An excerpt from the short story "Gay Keith" by Scott Edgecombe it was midnight when I put out my smoke, popped an altoid in my mouth, whispering 'sign of a sensitive lover', and made my way up the stairs to his second floor apartment. Gay Keith opened the door to his candle-lit, ikea-esque, one-bedroom bachelor pad in a hotel bathrobe.
He was about a foot shorter than me, lean in stature, and obviously coming down from something.
He asked for the pantyhose, walked me to the couch and then disappeared to his bedroom to change…apparently we’d be starting on the couch. Here I was, a small town hockey playing canuck kid, taking my clothes off in Gay Keith’s living room, alone, and about to find out without a question, whether or not I was gay.