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'Druschba' means Friendship

English Edition 

 

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Text Copyright ©Reg Dixon 2021 All rights reserved.

 

No reprint or other use is permitted without the written permission of the author.

This story is fictitious. Any resemblances to persons living or deceased are purely coincidental. Existing places and locations are part of the fictional story.

Contact: regdixon.autor@gmail.com

Website: regdixon.com

 

 Blurb:

Gregory Burton happened to have a Russian grandmother and speaks a smattering of Russian. That's enough for his boss to send him for a joint venture from Alaska to Siberia. Greg is an engineer. Pipeline maintenance is his job. He is brilliant at it at home at the Alaska Pipeline and he'd be brilliant in Russia. But he is also gay and Russia is not a good place for people of his kind. 

He expects anything but he doesn't expect at all to meet the love of his life just there at the police station of Irkustk Siberia.

"Forbidden male love in the realm of the Russian bear!
The engineer from Alaska who needs to go Russia for a project,
plans to put his sex on hold on Siberian ice and
to just focus on the task in front of him. Few moments alone with
a Russian policeman will bring his life into turmoil.
The stakes are high. Who will have to pay the price?"

 

1.Chapter

 

"Where do you want to send me! To Russia? You're not serious Martin, are you?"

Greg almost couldn't believe it. His boss, Martin Brooks, manager of the 'Alaska Pipe Secure Company' was not kidding. "We made a deal with the Russians. They have some trouble with radical environmentalists and major oil losses from leaks and faulty pumps. We are the best in maintenance and renewal of pumps and pipeline sections, so they asked us for help. They want a consultant for a few weeks to build a fast maintenance team like ours. You speak the Russian language and you are free and unattached. They pay a pretty penny, you know.
I surely won't mind a few weeks abroad when the money's irresistible, so what's your problem, Greg?"

Gregory Burton shook his head. "Forget it, Martin. I'm not going to Mordor."

"What's the point Greg? Your grandma was Russian. You speak the language. At least a little bit. You know the culture and be able to read Cyrillic to some extent, and you're also the best engineer for this kind of assignment. What's your problem?"

Gregory took a deep breath.

Douglas was his problem, but that was none of Martin's business.

The thing with Douglas was complicated. They couldn't get away from each other, even though sometimes they didn't meet for months. Alaska is a vast country, and you'd think it would be fairly easy to stay out of each other's way. But so far, Greg and Douglas had still ended up in bed, breathless and ravenous, every time they met again at some job. However, Douglas Hames wasn't the reason Greg was so against going to Russia.

"I can't go to the Russians. They hate my kind."

His voice was quiet and his posture revealed that the big man was uncomfortable talking about it. Martin knew that Gregory was gay. He had worked exclusively with men himself long enough on secluded construction sites on the Alaska Pipeline to know what it was like. There were those who just stuck it out. And those who helped themselves with alcohol or pills. Some of the men comforted each other a little in the loneliness without ever saying a word about it and returned home to their wives after the assignment. Some, however, only learned in the wilderness to appreciate the love that only a man can give a man.

Martin loved big breasts, but he also accepted that others got hot from something else entirely. However, Martin Brooks kept a very close separation between work and personal life. He snorted. "I don't give a shit about that! Work is work. Pipeline is pipeline, no matter where, and anyway, surely you can go a few weeks without sex!"

Martin didn't want to argue. He wasn’t about to let that opportunity for a big deal slip and he didn't see a problem at all, either. Besides, he was clearly in the driver's seat and Greg knew it.

He loved his work and he was proud of it. Of course, he was flattered to be chosen for such an assignment, but he wasn't very comfortable with the idea of going to a country that so consistently disregarded human rights and was as harsh and unforgiving with homosexuals as he had heard about Russia.

Surely it would go for a few weeks without sex. Even for a few months if need be. Greg wasn't spoiled, as far as that was concerned. He didn't have a steady partner, and if he was honest with himself, he had to admit that his life was too erratic for a steady partnership. He had been vagabonding along the Alaska pipeline for years. Always from one maintenance to the next. A life among men, always interrupted only briefly by the few office days he spent at the company's headquarters in Valdez.

The teams of welders, fitters and electricians were often together for long periods of time, and Greg was respected and accepted as an engineer. Occasionally, rarely enough, a hot night would result.

He had been friends with some of the men for years.

The only one who held a special position was Douglas, but even he was not interested in a steady relationship. They both had been friends for a long time and for some time they had been fuck buddies with the same preferences.

Douglas loved his wife and his two sons. That he also loved Greg, somehow, was never mentioned and never would.

Gregory knew from the first moment that Douglas wasn't gay. Probably not even bisexual. He only did it with his sweet, soft, round wife and with Greg, who was the opposite of soft, round and sweet.

Douglas really and truly loved Erin, his wife, and never let there be any doubt about it. His urge for man-sex with Greg was, for him, like having an appetite for something to eat that he couldn't get with his wife. There was a deep friendship between the two men, but also an inexplicable, animalistic attraction.

They had spent an icy night together in the wilderness long time ago when Douglas had to make an emergency landing of his transport helicopter in a storm. Gregory had slipped his hand under Douglas's shirt that night because the desire for warm male skin was stronger than the common sense that told him not to burn his fingers on a married man. He hoped that his bedfellow was fast asleep. That wasn't the case. Douglas had turned and kissed Greg. Wild, hungry, and wonderful. He had been full of lust and insatiable greed for Greg.

That stormy night, Douglas Hames finally got what he had long desired.

They didn't really talk later about what that was or how it was going to go. Douglas had only breathlessly whispered, "That was great. Let's do that more often."

And Gregory had asked, "But how do you imagine it!"

The answer left him speechless. "Like, right now baby. Wild, hard and loud ... I've wanted you to do that for so long. I knew you were into men, but I didn't think I had a chance with you. Because of Erin and the boys."

Oddly enough, that night hadn't changed their friendship. They met from time to time and only occasionally Greg visited his friend at home.

Only when he had business in Valdez for a few days, for once. But when they did see each other, it was always special to Greg. Douglas meant something to him.

They only had sex when they met far from home, somewhere, because work demanded it. Douglas was a helicopter pilot. His company also transported cargo for Greg's company.

Their strange relationship caused him remorse and was ultimately morally indefensible. Greg was increasingly uncomfortable with it.

He knew Erin and the two sons she had with Douglas. He liked her and the kids, and he didn't want to hurt any of them. He could still somehow justify to himself the slip-on Storm Night back then, but this uneasy game between the two of them had been going on for too long now. Eventually someone would notice something, and Greg didn't want to be the cause of a divorce. Especially since Douglas didn't want to live with him anyway.

Doug just needed something sometimes that Erin didn't have, and he was macho and ego enough to take it where he could get it without risking being judged for it. By the weekend, maybe there would be a chance to see Douglas and maybe, finally, to bring some order to this mess.

Today, however, Greg first met his parents and siblings, who had been looking forward to this evening for weeks. Greg had a few days of work in the company office before the next assignment on the Alaska Pipeline. Almost 1300 km wanted to be inspected and maintained regularly. However, it was now almost looking like the next assignment would be in Russia. Martin wanted to discuss the details of the assignment after the weekend, and he certainly expected a commitment for it then.

 

Tonight, however, was the big Birthday party of Harold Burton, Greg's father. The whole family and friends were invited! And because it was rare for Greg to meet all his siblings and their families, he was really looking forward to the party. Sure, they kept up with each other on the net, but it was much nicer to see them all in person.

Gregory pushed aside the thoughts of Douglas and Russia and headed for his home, which was located on the far outskirts of Valdez.

It was a small house by local standards, with only two bedrooms, but it had a large lot all around and was comfortably and cosily furnished. Greg had bought it from an old lady who had moved to Anchorage to be with her children. It was an old, solid, compact wooden house that had defied the elements for decades. The purchase price, renovations and new furnishings had drained all his savings, but now it was his house, and even though he spent many weeks a year on the pipeline, he liked having a fixed point to come home to.

Of course, Martin, his boss, was right. He could pretty much use the money the job in Russia would bring in his bank account.

Maybe it should just be looked at from the financial side. A few weeks would pass quickly and be done. And maybe they could squeeze in a little vacation in Europe on the way back.

While the hot water rushed into the bathtub, Greg wrapped the birthday present for his father. Harold Burton had been retired for a year. Since then, he had been busy doing the two thing’s men loved best since time immemorial: Hunting and fishing. Harold had an office job in Valdez city government until a year ago and often missed the outdoors. Now he enjoyed the wilderness. To fish for salmon, his wife Emily sometimes accompanied him.

Greg knew his father's preferences, and he knew the clerk at the gun store.

Now he grinned to himself, hoping he had picked out the right gift. Of course, the wrapping didn't really prevent easy guesses as to what was inside the package.

Tying the ribbon shut, Greg grabbed a cold beer and headed for the luxuriously sized bathtub with it.

No one who saw Gregory Burton in safety gear with hard hat and gloves working on the pipeline had any idea how meticulously he cared for his body. Both hands and feet were lovingly manicured and pedicured. The face got a wet shave with lots of lather and the dark blond hair was trimmed to 4 mm with a dry razor, the pubic hair as well. Which he wondered if this measure would be noticed by anyone anytime soon.

He didn't care. He felt good after an hour of grooming and two bottles of beer. If there had been a little more time, Greg would also have liked to heat up the small sauna that he had built last summer, together with his eldest brother Harold Jr, in the garden, against the wall of the house next to the veranda. A cherished luxury, for cold days. There were more than enough of those, even though Valdez was pretty far south in the country.

 

"Hey, Greg! Come on in my boy! Good to see you! How are you doing?"

Harold Burton pulled his youngest into his arms. Greg towered over his father by half a head, but Harold was much sturdier and more compactly built than his son.

"Hi, Dad! And Happy Birthday!"

Greg returned the hug without letting go of the gift in his hand.

"Thank you, son! But you shouldn't have bought anything! I already have everything!"

"Well, in that case, I guess I can take it back to 'GUNS'N BAIT'."

A broad grin accompanied the sentence.

"Oh, maybe I'll take it ..."

Harold beamed and from the kitchen Emily called out, "Aren't you even going to say hello to your old mother?"

"You'll never get old, Mom!"

Emily held out her cheek for him to kiss without stopping to stir in the pot of fish soup. The aroma was beguiling, and Greg was instantly ravenous.

"I'm glad you're here already. Harold Jr. and Susan are playing with the girls. Richard came alone. Bella had to stay home with the little one. He has a fever. Probably just a new little tooth. I'm sure Cynthia will be here soon too. David still must work. But he will come a little later. It's so nice to have you all here again!"

His mother looked happy. So did his father! He had unwrapped his present and was flipping through the rifle's instruction manual when Greg came into the living room.

The house quickly filled with neighbours and friends and Emily beamed with joy all evening. She was a gregarious woman and loved having all her loved ones around and providing plenty of good food. She succeeded, as always. The evening ended on a humid note and Greg had to promise to come for lunch the next day. Emily accompanied her youngest to the door. "Greg, my darling. You've been so quiet tonight. Are you worried?"

"No, Mom. I'm just tired. Martin was exhausting today. I just hate office work. Besides, it's getting late."

That was true, and Emily didn't ask further.

As Greg turned into his driveway, he saw Doug's pickup truck parked in front of his house. Douglas sat on the steps outside the front door in the darkness and slowly got up as Greg got out of the truck.

Middle-of-the-night visits were not common. Greg was worried. "Hey, did you get kicked out of your house and need to find a warm place to spend the night?"

"Is that the proper way to greet an old friend you haven't seen in five weeks?"

Greg opened the door to let Douglas in.

"I don't think that's such a good idea. Let's go up to the lake, okay?"

Greg somehow didn't understand what the problem was, but he closed the door again and said, "Whatever you want. But I can't drive anymore. It was my dad's birthday. Getting home was illegal enough as it was."

Douglas got in his car, Greg got in, and they drove out of town in silence. After ten minutes, Doug launched into a strange confession. "Erin saw me."

He swallowed and Greg was about to ask something when Douglas continued, "I was watching porn on my computer and she was suddenly behind me."

"Yeah, so? It's not like your wife is a little girl!"

"It wasn't porn with women ..."

"Oh."

"One of the guys looked like you and she saw that right away."

Greg's stomach churned. Douglas continued speaking, "Of course I closed the page right away, but she had seen enough to make a real scene. She was crying and screaming and demanding an explanation. And I gave it to her."

Greg's dinner wanted out of him again. "Oh, God, Doug! Stop the car! Now! I'm gonna puke!"

He jumped out of the car into the nearest bushes and spit back out everything he had eaten and drunk. Douglas was considerate enough not to follow him and just wait in the dark car until Greg returned and sank deep into the passenger seat. He found a piece of gum in his jacket and muttered, "And you couldn't tell me this at my house, but had to swing me through the mountains to do it?"

"Sorry. I didn't think about the birthday. Got a little off track."

"When was the circus, then?"

"Last week." Douglas took a deep breath. "And since then, I've been thinking about how I'm going to tell you ..." He didn't complete the sentence. They reached the lakeshore. The water glistened in the starlight. There was a large rock above the shore. During the day there was a great view of the Valdez Glacier and the surrounding mountains, but now at night all they could see was the glitter of the stars in the water and inky black silhouettes of the trees on the shore. For a long while they sat on a ledge of cold stone and were silent. The air was clear and cool, the sky velvety black and full of stars. Greg would have liked to lean on Douglas, but he clearly felt, that those days were over. If he was honest with himself, that had been to be expected. Greg had expected and dreaded this conversation. Only it wasn't him who started it.

He waited patiently for his friend to finally come out with the whole truth. The pleasant buzz he'd brought home from the party had faded, and his queasy stomach was joined by a dull headache.

Douglas swallowed once, twice, then began to speak softly, "I'm not so good at talking about feelings."

Greg growled softly in confirmation.

Who was good at talking about feelings!

Men in Alaska didn't talk much at all, and when they did, it was about the really important things. How big the last salmon was, how much the new motor for the boat cost, or in Douglas' case, the spare part for the helicopter. Men had feelings, of course, but they were nobody's business.

"I know. Now speak up."

"Greg, I'm sorry! I'm a pig. I love my wife, but I'm also hot for you. And if we can't meet for ages, I'm going to watch movies on the Internet with this guy who could be your twin."

Douglas grinned darkly. "Well, not quite. Your dick is nicer."

He immediately turned serious again. "Erin made a mad screech, 'What is this?! Why am I looking at this?! And so on. And so on.

Well, and then I ..."

Greg drew the cold air noisily into his lungs and Douglas hurried on, "I told her that someone in Anchorage had told me that my best friend was doing gay porn. Which, of course, I would have doubted and now just wanted to convince myself that it wasn't true and that you weren't at all ..."

Greg swallowed. "You really are a pig, you know that!!! Lying like that! Then what did she say?" "Not much. She didn't even know you were gay and now she doesn't want to see you at our house. Because of the boys. And I think it's better if we don't see each other anymore. To ... fuck, I mean."

"But you still talk to me, or what?!" 

The cat was out of the bag! It hurt. A hit between the eyes. Greg swallowed, then said rather curtly, "It's clear that many still have a problem with it, but I didn't think your wife was a homophobe."

He tried to remain calm, but his words sounded bitter. "So well. You've saved your marriage, and I can accept Martin's offer without a guilty conscience."

"Greg ..." "Let it go, Doug. It was obvious this couldn't go on much longer, right? YOU can't have it all."

In his mind he completed the sentence, "And I can't have you. I knew it before, and I should have just left it alone.

Douglas put his hand on Greg's shoulder. "Hey, I'm sorry ... really ..."

Greg stood up. He longed to feel Douglas despite himself, and he would have loved to snuggle up to him and engage in what would no doubt be a wild, loud, and certainly in retrospect, very painful goodbye act, but it hurt enough as it was.

"Come on. Let's go. Or do I have to walk home?"

"Weirdo!"

Greg tried to get his thoughts in order. Douglas, looking intently down the narrow road, drove back to Valdez. Only after they had almost reached the city did he ask, "What offer did Martin make you?"

"He wants to send me abroad."

"To the North Wests?" "No, to Russia."

"Russia? And what are you supposed to do there?"

"They want help building a maintenance force like we have. You know, when too much oil goes into the taiga because the pipe leaks, the oligarchs don't like it. And protests by radical environmentalists aren't too popular in Russia either."

Douglas heard the sharp undertone and knew Greg was hurt. Even though he had acted so cool and confident earlier. Doug had known his friend long enough to know how much he had hit him.

He liked Greg. And he loved their sex, but his family was more important to him in the end. He had made up his mind, and somehow, he was glad he had.

Greg had remained calm. Douglas hadn't known what the reaction would be to the end of their, whatever relationship it had been, and was now relieved that Gregory Burton was here with him in the car and not stinking angry and alone, trudging through the wilderness. He struggled to keep his tone calm. "So, you want to go to Russia?"

Greg thought for a moment. "I didn't want to until a few hours ago, but now I think it would be good. The farther away, the better!"

He took a few deep breaths and then whispered, "Maybe it won't hurt so much if I'm away from here for a while."

Douglas wasn't sure if that whisper was meant for his ears. He didn't answer it. Greg lived on the outskirts of town. Doug pulled up in front of his house and before he could turn off the engine, Greg jumped out of the car, slammed the door, and left without another word. Douglas kind of expected him to turn around again, but Greg just disappeared behind the front door. For a brief moment, Doug fought the urgent need to run after him and undo everything that had been said, but his head remained stronger than his emotions this time. He drove home, fervently hoping that Greg would understand it all.
If not right now. But maybe someday.

 

 

 

2.Chapter

Greg was even basically okay with not seeing Douglas anymore, but it hurt to pay the price for their stolen time.

He fervently hoped that nothing had changed in their friendship that couldn't be fixed by a little distance. Erin wasn't stupid. It was possible that she was homophobic. But maybe she had just sensed that there was more than her husband had admitted. Greg poured himself a big glass of bourbon, downed it all at once and went to bed.

Sleep was out of reach, but he tried to calm down his rotten feelings with factual arguments. It didn't change the fact that he had the best sex of his life with Douglas. Which he had to admit to himself, was just sex from the beginning. Great sex, but just sex. Gregory had never met anyone where it was more than friendship plus sex. Mostly just either or.

In Alaska, it is hard to find a wife. To find a male partner, almost impossible. Still macho country. Hard work, hard, long winters, hunting, fishing, drinking, roughhousing, wilderness. There were no clubs and no scene to speak of, except for few places in Anchorage.

But if you love nature in the North, with its extreme climate, wild landscapes, and endless skies over the mountains, you feel free, free, and independent. No club scene and no big city life could lure Greg away from Alaska.

His grandfather had been stranded in Valdez after World War II, with his young wife from Russia. He had sailed on a Navy destroyer as a young cadet during the last years of the war and later container ships for many years. He had seen all the world, but he always came back home to his wife and son in Valdez, Alaska.

His wife had fled Russia for Alaska by very circuitous routes after the war ended. She had changed her name from Ekaterina to Catherine and given her husband one son. Harold, Greg's father. The Burton family was firmly rooted in Alaska, and Harold and Emily still lived in the house where Harold had grown up. Greg's grandfather had built it with his own hands. Neither Greg nor his siblings had ever seriously considered leaving Alaska for good. Greg had gone to college in Seattle, but he was always homesick and sometimes couldn't wait to finally breathe the cold, crisp air of the North again. He had few, very fuzzy memories of his grandfather, but many, very fond memories of his grandmother. As a child Greg had called her Babu, and in his mind he still called her that. He wondered if she would have liked her grandson to go to the land of her youth. To the country from which she had fled, after the Second World War, from the regime of Joseph Stalin.

Greg had learned to speak a little Russian and read Cyrillic from his grandmother. He was the only one of his siblings who had an aptitude for languages.

She had often cooked for the children and watched them when Emily worked. Greg was the youngest and undisputedly his grandmother's favourite. She had told him countless fairy tales and songs, cooked, and baked with him. Her warmth of heart was inexhaustible and so was her store of incredibly delicious recipes.

His grandmother was also the first to realize that Greg would never give his parents grandchildren. He would never forget the day she said to him in her charming accent, "Gregory, don't be sad. That's just the way life is. One is like this, another is different. Everyone has to find his own way."

He was sixteen years old and had come out to his parents that day. And as you would expect, his father had been deeply disappointed, and his mother had cried. It had taken months for the youngest son to look his parents in the eye again and for the relationship to slowly return to normal. It had been his Russian grandmother with her big heart who had picked him up. The same grandmother who did not tolerate bad table manners or swear words at all.

Greg slipped into a restless half-sleep as he tried to think about what he actually knew specifically about his grandparents. His last thought was, you’ll have to ask Dad about it tomorrow at lunch. Then he fell asleep. The next morning, raindrops drummed Gregory out of sleep. The day was grey. He had a headache and the remnants of an unpleasant dream flitted through his mind. Greg couldn't really remember it, but he felt sad and lonely. There was no reason for that. He himself wanted to end things with Douglas. Now Doug had just cleared the table, and everything should be fine. But it wasn't. Greg needed a hot shower and two large cups of black coffee to figure out why he felt so bad. He liked Douglas, still did.

Undeniably, the night Doug had pitched Erin that absurd story had not been one of his brightest moments, but Greg could picture the situation and Doug's panic when Erin showed up, so vividly that he almost had to laugh: Doug in front of the computer, a juicy gay porn on the screen, his hand down his open pants, headphones on his ears, and his mind as far away as it could be! Yes, it was, quite unpleasant to be found like that by your wife! And exactly there was the sore point. Greg never had a partner who cared what he did, who he slept with, when he was sad or happy. He had never missed that until today either, but now he felt something important was missing in his life. The one person who would choose him, who would choose Greg. Who cared about being with him. He had never expected that from Douglas, but still it hurts that Doug had sided so clearly with his wife Erin.

Tomorrow Greg would talk to Martin about Russia and the thought of being away for a few weeks or months didn't seem as unpleasant to him now as it had a few hours ago. Surely it was good to sink his teeth into a new, challenging job for some time.

Sunday family lunches were always dear to Emily, Greg's mother, when they were all kids. Now the siblings took turns with their parents on Sundays, and Greg always enjoyed coming to his parents' house when he was in Valdez.

Today at noon, Cynthia, his sister, and her husband David were also at the table. David worked at Valdez Port, at the end of the Trans-Alaska Pipeline, as a loadmaster. He filled huge oil tankers with crude oil. Since the catastrophe of 1989, when the 'Exxon Valdez' had run aground on Bligh Reef in Prince William Sound off southern Alaska, leaking and causing an environmental disaster of unbelievable proportions, awareness of the environment and the safety of oil shipments had increased immensely. Especially in the port of Valdez.

By now, even in the far reaches of Alaska, it was considered very important not to poison the environment with oil. Greg's company had a big part in that with its maintenance work and overhauls.

It didn't last long and Greg, his father Harold and David were involved in a lively discussion about the job in Russia, which was, after all, about spills and environmental protection. Harold was against going to Russia. He still saw the Russians as the old nemesis who could not be trusted. David saw it as a chance to learn something new and see a little of the world. Greg came to the decision to first get a very thorough briefing on the mission and its details, and only then make up his mind. After afternoon tea, Cynthia and David said goodbye and Greg asked his father about his grandparents. He was eager to know more about his Babushka's escape and how his grandparents had met.

He only knew that she had fled across the Arctic Ocean, but nothing concrete of her origins. He didn't know very much about his grandfather either. Not where he had been born and where he had gone to school or what exactly he had done in the war.

Harold gave him only very evasive information. Gregory wasn't sure if his father didn't want to talk about it, or if he didn't know these things himself because his parents hadn't talked to him about it. When Harold was a kid, the cold war was still pretty hot and maybe his parents just wanted to protect him.

Greg didn't probe. He knew from painful experience that it would have no effect at all. His mother had not joined in the discussion, but as Greg was about to leave them, she said to him, "Think twice, son, about whether you really want to go to the Russians. You'll have to deny yourself; you realize that don't you?"

Emily never talked to Greg about his sexuality.

She had noted his outing at the time, but then never said another word about it. Nor did she ask him about his love life. So, this question came as a bit of a surprise to Greg now, but he answered her naturally. "I'll think it over, Mom. After all, it's mostly about work. For vacation, I'd go somewhere else."

The look on her face told him that she'd rather not think too hard about what Greg would do on a vacation, although she tried hard to smile. "All right. You can tell us what happens next, then."

"I will."