The Three Nipple Problem

A simple, distracted glance would just register as another American guy in his twenties when Pedro Álvaro Hinojosa de la Cruz passed by. That was what Pedro was, after all, born and raised in Seaford, Delaware. An American who didn’t learn to speak English until kindergarten.

He inherited the low cheekbones of his mother and the white skin of his father. The thick, straight Mayan hair the three of them shared had been dyed blond. It would take a certain kind of eye to identify who he actually was in, and  the most impolite of stares instead of a mere glance to tell that Pedro’s name might not be Pete as he usually introduced himself. Such an eye, motivated and intrigued by its own biases and affiliations, would notice that Pedro’s skin would become golden under the summer sun instead of the unhealthy pink of many blonds. Pedro could feel these gazes lingering on him at the beach and would ignore them. The gaze that Pedro sought as he strolled along the sidewalk of Rehoboth Avenue, after a day of work as a bookkeeper in a hotel, was not from those that would scan his features as if they could sniff something amiss--there was nothing off with him-- but from those that would park their view/focus their gaze on his bubbly ass, his muscular forearms, his six-pack when he was shirtless. The things that made him a hot stud at the beach.

Being hot is being different, and it took Pedro years to accept that, especially because he used to be a person who never liked to stand out. In high school he decided to go by Pete, and it took his mom smacking him with her sandals several times to make him answer again to Pedro. Nonetheless, Pete remained for those who were not family. Coming out, years later, was comparatively easier, even if it stung when his father passive-aggressively said that he was proud that Pedro was gay but not a maricón.

In fact, Pedro was masculine. And hot. And on that afternoon, he was also horny, and so were all these male eyes basking on him as he strolled down Rehoboth Beach’s boardwalk as if he owned it. He let them watch without paying attention. Pedro knew that the real business he came for was not at the boardwalk, but closer to where it ended, at the stretch called Poodle Beach. That’s where top dog Pedro would hunt for his puppy du soir. Usually, he went for other built, masculine guys, but Pedro was in the mood for something different this evening. Less rough, silent, and quick. More talky, less business. That’s when he spotted Travis. He didn’t know his name then, but that would change. He decided on the spot that he would invite that twink to dinner and take his time with him. Pedro liked Travis so much that he introduced himself to him as Pedro instead of Pete.

###

Breezewood was one of the few residential developments of Rehoboth Beach that was still affordable for rent during the summer for non-wealthy locals like Pedro. Composed mostly of mobile homes and white, blue-collar denizens, Pedro and his housemate stood out in Breezewood, as they occupied a compact two-bedroom house. Their residency on those grounds was only possible because Pedro’s housemate had roughed up a neighbor and his biker friends one day when they tried to convey their displeasure over living next to the two men.

João Barbosa Pinto was the perfect housemate. A hulking Brazilian immigrant who made a living out of teaching Jiu-jitsu –under the table since João was undocumented. He always paid the rent, and the fact that João shared Pedro’s sexual orientation was a plus. There were differences between the two men, though. Pedro was a cocky top who would spend up to an hour grooming himself to look like he was the kind of butch man who was too macho to groom himself but still looked great. João was a meaty avalanche of testosterone and bravado clad in sweat pants in the winter and gym shorts in the summer who would relentlessly try to tap Pedro’s ass even if both were tops by default.  They met after barely avoiding a fistfight over coveting the same big-bottomed twink during leather night at Diego's. And even though that was just a few short years ago, they were  best friends.

That night, when Pedro slowly opened his bedroom door and tried to sneak out into the dim hallway, there wasn’t much of his cocky self left in him. He crept through the corridor doing his best not to attract the attention of whatever danger he had left in his bedroom, his careful jittery steps leading him to the safety of his housemate João’s closed bedroom door. And then, suddenly, a few rushed steps could be heard just before a pair of legs wrapped around Pedro’s waist: Travis, his lay that night, leapt on his back.

“Come on, Travis. I need to hit the john,” pleaded Pedro.

“Can I go with you?” Travis demanded showering Pedro’s neck with smooches.

“Well… I mean—”

“Don’t worry, it’s not like I’m into scat.”

“I didn’t think—”

“But if you are, I can tag along.”

“I’m not into scat,” asserted Pedro, “Could you… get off my back now?”

Travis obliged and Pedro turned to face the smaller man with a forced, nervous smile.

“Why don’t you get dressed, Travis? We don’t want to be late to your… thing, right?”

Travis lunged toward Pedro and kissed him passionately. For a moment, Pedro squirmed, but after a few seconds he responded to the kiss. Pedro liked Travis. Pedro was afraid of Travis. The two statements were not contradictory.

Pedro walked to the open bathroom door while Travis returned to his bedroom. The two waved at each other under the threshold of their respective doorways for a moment before turning and closing the doors in synch. For a moment, nothing moved in the dim hallway. And then, the bathroom door opened, which was followed by Pedro sticking his head out, scanning the hallway, and only daring to move when he was sure that the space was clear of Travis’ presence.

Pedro didn’t waste time and darted toward João’s bedroom door, opening it, rushing in, and closing it behind him forcefully, yet quietly as if his housemate’s room was the last safe spot in the house. Posters on the walls featuring MMA wrestlers hinted at João’s enthusiasm for martial arts and veiled homoeroticism. João was perched by his desk, shirtless, while having what seems to be a webcam session with the nerdiest of men.

“I need your help!” said Pedro.

“Who’s that, João?” asked the frowning man from the computer screen.

“He’s my housemate; relax, Noah,” explained João.

“Wow, does your housemate get to waltz into your room in just his boxers often?”

“It’s not what you think—”

Before João could finish, the screen turned black and displayed the message “Noah disconnected.”

“Nice job, Pedro!” said a now sullen João, “Now that pipsqueak is gonna ghost me till he’s thirsty again.”

“You can do better.”

“Keep dreaming, DREAMer and come back when you can give me a green card.”

“Again, I’m not a DREAMer and you are not my type. I’m a top too.”

“Being a top is like being a lady, if you need to tell people you are, you aren’t.”

“That’s transphobic… I think. And stop interrupting me. I need your help.”

“Sure. Pants down, butt up.”

“With my date! Who is in my room right now!”

“Ah. Condoms are in the second drawer. Poppers in the third, handcuffs in—"

“No… It’s not… Okay, let me explain. I met this guy at Poodle Beach—"

“You meet lots of guys at Poodle Beach. Your room is like a freaking revolving door for bottoms desperate enough to go beneath their league.”

“Well, I’m kinda tired of just hooking up.. So, I actually took this guy for dinner, you know. Real thing, with tablecloth and shit. His name is Travis. He intrigued me because he said that he was not interested in just hooking up; he was looking for his best and last date.”

“Let me guess, he’s into scat or some gross shit like that?”

“No! I mean… Maybe. But it doesn’t matter, I wanted to see where it went, you know? It’s not easy to find someone who’s in it just for what’s in my pants. He wanted a real date. Food, movie—"

“And then… cock.”

“Well, it did end in my bedroom.”

“Do you want me to call him an Uber?”

“No! Because it was the best date and fuck in my life! He’s so awesome, man! I don’t even know where to start. When we were having dinner, he—"

“Skip to the part that matters.”

“Hmm, okay. In bed I discovered that… he has three… nipples. I know, it’s weird, and useless, but you know when we do that… fidgeting thing, and in my case I did with three fingers and—”

“Three nipples is nothing. Did I tell you I have three balls?”

“BS.”

“Fondle them.”

Pedro was intrigued and, for a moment, he raised his hand and almost touched João’s crotch.

“No,” said Pedro, as he retreated his hand, sensing the trap.

“Your loss. And for your issue with the shrimp, the solution is simple. Go for seconds tomorrow. Dessert after tomorrow. If you are still not full, he’s a keeper.”

“That’s the problem. He… says that he won’t be around after tonight.”

“Oh, damn! Is he like dying and you were like his Make-a-Wish trip to Disneyland?

“No, he’s not dying. He said that… he’s been hearing voices.”

“Like—"

“In his head. Voices in his head. He said that the voices are aliens telling him that they want to take him to space.”

“That’s a bit crazy, but manageable. I once dated a super preppy guy who talked to his shoes. He yelled to his Ferragamos once because he stepped on some dog shit—"

“Travis wants me to go with him to the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night, where the aliens are gonna come for him.”

João suddenly snatched a baseball bat from underneath his bed and stomped to the door.

“That’s it! That guy is ICE and he’s gonna send you to a concentration camp or something! I’ll deal with—”

“Stop, João. I’m an American citizen! Also, he’s not ICE! He’s a really cool guy who really gets me but… has that issue going on.”

“Okay then,” said João as he lowered the bat with a shrug. A long, awkward silence followed.

“But it’s like… a big issue,” said Pedro, thinking aloud.

“I’m not sure what you want me to say. You keep bringing home lay after lay, night after night, and all I see is you getting more and more miserable. At the end of the day, we all grow tired of fooling around and want to settle down, but not in the same way. I’d rather stick with someone boring, the type who has a Linkedin account, you know? I guess that’s not your case and you kinda prefer the weirdos.”

“He thinks aliens are gonna come for him tonight, João!”

“Well, when they don’t come he could use a shoulder to cry on..”

“What if he switches to serial-killer mode when the aliens don’t show up?”

“Then just shoot him between the eyes,” instructed João after picking a gun from behind a lamp and handing it to Pedro. “After you shoot, scrub it to get your fingerprints off it and leave the gun with the body; I filed off the serial number.”

“Why the hell do we have a gun at home?”

“This is America.”

“I’m not gonna shoot anybody!”

“Got you covered, fam!” said João as he picked a taser from behind the same lamp and offered it to Pedro.

###

A Prius-C rolled into Cape Henlopen State Park, passing by one of the secluded admission booths that, somehow, didn’t have a park ranger turning away evening visitors.

“You know that the park is closed at night, right, Travis?” asked Pedro. Travis was attentively studying a gps map.

“It’s okay,” answered Travis, “The aliens told me that two of the park rangers on night shift are out sick.

“So… they just… talk to you?”

“Yeah, in my head.”

“Are they talking to you right now?”

“No, it’s usually when I’m alone. They gave me all the directions I needed.”

“Well, that’s nice. It’s cool. Like, Joan d’Arc shit.”

“Not really, it’s not like God is my head, that’d be crazy.”

“Totally crazy.”

“Right?”

“Absolutely bonkers, insane--clinically speaking.”

“Stop the car, we are here.”

Pedro parked by the edge of the narrow park road, even though there was nothing but forest in the area.

“Are you sure it’s here?”

“Well, from here we hike,” said Travis as he grabbed his bag from the back seat and leaped out of the car, “Come on!”

###

The two men marched through the woods in silence for several minutes, a determined Travis walking ahead with a flashlight in one hand and his GPS in the other. A concerned Pedro followed behind, João’s words echoing in his mind. Did he like Travis and wanted more than sex with him because he was weird? Yes, but this was beyond a little eccentricity. Pedro decided that the best way to deal with Travis’ delusion was to defuse it, using the skills he was more confident about. He approached Travis from behind a put his two hands on Travis’s shoulders, making the smaller man halt.

“You know, this park has a nice cruising scene. During the day, I mean.”

“Not now, Pedro, we need to reach the meeting point.”

“We could pretend that we are two guys cruising,” whispered Pedro, “Do you come here often?”

Travis untangled himself from Pedro’s grasp and turned a half-amused, half-exasperated face to the bigger man.

“That’s super cute and I would usually be super into it, but let’s stay on mission, okay?”

And with that, Travis resumed his march. Pedro was despondent, in part because the little role-play he had started had worked too well on him, and in part because he was realizing that Travis was beyond help. He considered walking back to his car and driving home but remembered that he hadn’t thought to bring a flashlight. He had no choice but to follow, and this  irritated him because he was not a follower.

The two men walked for another twenty minutes, the march turning into a trudge as the trees thinned, replaced by a sandy soil that sloped upward. Once they reached the top of the dune, Travis finally halted.

“This is the spot,” informed Travis.

Pedro didn’t pay much attention as he was taken aback by the scenery in front of him. The dune was at the end of a small peninsula separating Delaware Bay on his right and the Atlantic Ocean on his left. The cloudless sky revealed a myriad of stars and the lights of Cape May, New Jersey on the horizon, the waters reflecting the silver light of a full moon. Pedro had lived all his life in Delaware, and he had never seen something so beautiful. After the moment of astonishment ebbed, Pedro realized why:

“This is a part of the park that is a preserve for mating birds. I’ve never been here.”

“I’ll mind my steps for eggs.”

“It’s not mating season.”

Pedro turned his attention from the scenery to Travis and was about to add “Lucky we’re not birds,” but found the smaller man focused on his watch.

“They’ll be here in forty-three minutes,” muttered Travis more to himself than to Pedro.

“You gotta relax,” said Pedro tentatively opening his backpack, and producing a bottle of wine, “You don’t want to meet… these aliens… like, a bundle of nerves, right?”

“I don’t want to meet them drunk either.”

Pedro sat down on the sand, frustrated. But then, to his surprise, Travis joined him, sitting at his side.

“Sorry if I’ve been blunt since we left your place,” said Travis, “But I want you to know that I’m really grateful that you are here with me. It’s been a little scary since I started hearing these voices, but it’s been… lonely too, which is even worse. Not everyone would believe me. As a matter of fact, you are the first one who has.”

“Right.”

“I’ll miss you I wish I had met you earlier.”

“Me too.”

“This whole thing with the voices… As scary and isolating it was, it also made me feel special. I never felt special… Maybe it’s the issue with being the youngest of five brothers of an Irish family in Philly, who drew the short straw by being gay. Oh man, I only keep talking about myself. I’ll stop here.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Thanks for being such a good listener. You make me feel special--and not because of the voices.”

Pedro frowned for a moment because the last thing he would describe himself as was a good listener. But then he realized that this is what made Travis so attractive to him and so invested in this date even though they’ d just met.. Travis was open with his vulnerabilities and fears, so unlike any other man Pedro had met. He found those struggles relatable, even though they were so different, and felt he could allow himself to open up too. If Pedro did that with another date, he’d only scare them away. Most of them just wanted first and foremost to get laid by a mostly silent himbo. If he did it with his best friend, João, he would be subjected to relentless mockery. Not with Travis. Pedro hadn’t shared a thing about himself with him, but he hoped to at some point. Once this nonsense about going to space was behind them, he would tell Travis about being Pedro and Pete. About not wanting to be singled out and, at the same time, having the very same need Travis had to be special, somehow, to someone at least. He had so much to say that he hadn’t said to anyone, including to himself. He would talk, and he would listen and then they would kiss, and fuck again and then talk some more until they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

Travis leaned over Pedro and kissed him on the lips. Pedro embraced him and kissed him back, harder. This. Yes, this. This was the reason he was putting him up with the craziness. And he would for sure use the forty-three minutes he had left to enjoy it before all hell broke loose. Travis would be facing a rough wake-up call. Pedro was going to hug him so tight when that happened.

###

Pedro watched Travis pacing nervously back and forth on the dune, sometimes halting briefly to scan the night sky just to resume his pacing until he stopped again. After every five stops, Travis would turn a distraught face to Pedro and say, “They are late!” Pedro would answer with a shrug. The seventh time Travis did that, Pedro finally dared to say something:

“Maybe they are stuck in a traffic jam or something?”

“They were supposed to be here at 1:57 a.m., it’s almost 3 now!”

“I don’t know what to say, Travis. Have you considered that maybe the voices were just… voices?”

“They were real!”

“Like I said, lots of cool people listened to voices in their head. I mentioned Joan d’Arc but there was also… Joan d’Arc… and—”

“Oh my god, you think I’m batshit crazy!”

“Of course not!”

“Then why are you pointing this taser at me?”

“Oh, this? Sorry, thought it was a flashlight.”

“You never believed me.”

“I like you, Travis. It’s weird, we just clicked on the spot; that never happens to me. Then when I saw you had three nipples, I was a little grossed out at first, but then I found how hot it was and—”

“Fuck off.”

“Look, yes, like it or not, I care about you, that’s why I’m here. Because I knew you would have a hard time. Now that we know the voices are just in your head, we can take you to a doctor. A head doctor, I mean. Your nipples are fine.”

“Get out of here.”

“What?”

“I’m done with you.”

“I won’t go back without you.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“You don’t understand, I can’t go back without you.”

“I don’t care; you need to—”

“It’s dark out there and I don’t have a flashlight.”

“Ah… Okay, you can take mine, I won’t be needing it.”

“Travis—”

“I’m really done with you—."

“Travis, I—”

“Stop arguing with me Pedro and—”

“Travis, look!” said a flabbergasted Pedro as he pointed behind Travis, who turned back and witnessed what seemed to be a green shiny dot in the night sky growing more and more, as it approached until it loomed over the two men-- a flying saucer almost as big as the dune they were standing on.

“Holy shit, it was real.”

“Who’s crazy now, Pedro?”

“Come on, be a good winner, I was wrong, you were right and—”

“And I’m not mad. I liked that you made time for me in my last moments on this planet, even though it was for the wrong reasons.”

Suddenly, a purple beam of light struck Travis, who slowly rose towards the flying saucer.

“I will always remember you, Pedro!” said an exhilarated Travis as he continued to rise, “I will cherish the memories of our brief time together, and as the future ambassador of humanity amid the extraterrestrial civilizations, I promise— Ouch!”

Travis’s speech was cut short as he reached the flying saucer and banged his head against the rim of the opening and was drawn inside. The purple light disappeared, and the flying saucer quickly darted away, first toward the horizon and then up to the stars. Pedro stayed in humbled and mesmerized silence for a couple of minutes, before murmuring  to himself:

“Good luck, Travis. I hope you find happiness wherever you are in the galaxy right now.”

He turned on his heels and was ready to climb down the dune when he halted:

"Fuck. Little shit kept the flashlight."

###

The two aliens looked like a pair of giant green amoebas and three yellow globes that served as eyes drifted through their slick skin. Dozens of tentacles protruded from their amorphous bodies to operate the saucer’s levers and buttons..

“You really had to make a stop at Grojegar 7 before our appointment with the human, didn’t you?” asked the alien on the left in the telepathic waves his species used for communication. 

 “What can I say? I was craving nachos.”

“Yeah, you and half of Galactic Quadrant 38. Rush hour to the jump portal was crazy. Glad the human was still there and didn’t leave.”

“We are gonna make a fortune with him at the space zoo. No one’s got a human with three nipples yet!”

THE END