By Mickey S
If you are under age, or live in an area where reading stories that include sex between males is illegal, or if you're not into this type of story, please leave. This is a fictional story and all characters and events are a figment of the author's imagination. My thanks to Tim and Drew for all of their help. The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at NJMcMick@yahoo.com.
I spent most of Saturday as a tour guide for Livy once she finally got up at nine-ish. I fixed her a hearty farm breakfast of bacon, eggs and home fries and then showed her the farm, introducing her to the cows and the chickens. I let her (made her?) collect the eggs from the nests in the hen house. She was impressed by how large the farm was although at 107 acres I'd never thought of it as big.
I started the tour of the surrounding area by taking Livy up to the state park at High Point, about four miles north of the farm. She'd seen the obelisk monument from the house and had asked about it so I figured that was a good starting point. From there, the highest elevation in the state, she could look down on the whole area, getting a feel for it. On the way down into town I pointed out the cemetery where several generations of my family were buried and other exciting landmarks, like the feed store where I'd worked in high school.
We did a quick five minute tour of the borough of Sussex and then stopped at the supermarket for some shopping. I'd gone through most of what I'd bought earlier in the week and had to re-stock the kitchen for Dad's return. We ran into five people I knew in the store, which amazed Livy. She pointed out that she'd been shopping in the same store on her block in Manhattan for five years and never ran into anyone she knew. By the time we got back to the farm I was sure the local phone lines were buzzing with the news that not only was I back but I had a voluptuous, sophisticated girlfriend visiting from the city.
Later that afternoon I finally showed Livy how to milk a cow. For a lesbian she was surprisingly inept at handling an udder. She was quite impressed with my expertise, however, saying she'd never figured me for a tit man.
"You handle those nipples, or whatever you call them, quite well."
"They're teats. And I've been handling them, as you put it, since I was a little kid. That's one of the reasons I'm so popular with my clients. Some men have very sensitive nipples and I'm even better working them with my tongue than my hands."
"TMI, dear. So are these Jersey cows?"
"Only in the sense that I'm a Jersey boy. They're Holsteins, actually. They give more milk with less fat than other breeds."
"The milk I buy must come from Holsteins then. I always buy low-fat. What kind of cows make skim milk?"
"That's not exactly the way it works, Livy." I sighed. "I think I may have to take you on a tour of a dairy someday."
We also used our time in the barn to take some pictures for Dream Dates. Livy had already taken a few of me shirtless in my jeans, tossing feed to the chickens. Now she got some of me with the cows. I pulled the tractor out of the barn and she took some with me on it, the barn and silo in the background. There was a pair of overalls and a straw cowboy hat hanging on a hook in the barn and she suggested some pictures with me wearing them as well. As I stripped off my jeans she decided some nude shots would be a good idea.
"They won't use pictures like that on the web site. It may be an escort service but the site is pretty conservative, suggestive but not pornographic. You've seen the pictures they have on it."
"Nudity doesn't have to be pornographic. I'll make sure your floppy isn't showing. Now drop the boxers. I've seen it all before."
So I did as she asked and we repeated all of the earlier shots, this time with me just wearing the straw hat and my boots. The ones with the chickens were the most daring since I was out in the open yard in full view of the road, but fortunately no cars went by. In spite of the new subdivisions at either end of the road there still wasn't all that much traffic. I found the whole thing very erotic and had to really focus to keep from getting aroused. Livy would not have appreciated my floppy getting hard. I was relieved when she decided she had enough pics and I was able to get dressed again.
When we went back into the house there was a message on the answering machine to call Barbara.
"I've got some good news, Silas. I'm sending Teddy out to help you with Dad."
"Ted? How can he get away if you can't? Doesn't he work full-time?"
"Teddy, Junior. He'll be done with school this week so he can come out for the summer and help around the farm, baby-sit Dad when you have to go into the city and maybe even act as a buffer between you and Dad."
I tried to picture her older son from my last visit. He was a surly, stocky adolescent, a lot like his father who I'd never liked very much.
"Won't he be bored here, stranded on the farm with no friends?"
I didn't want to discourage her but I wanted to be sure she'd thought this through.
"He'll be fine, but you'll have to get cable TV and Internet access for him. He can't live without those."
"I was going to arrange for that for myself anyway."
"One other thing, though. We're going to have to pay him."
"He's sixteen, Silas. This was going to be his first summer working. Ted had arranged a job for him at the dealership, mainly just cleaning cars, but still it was a paying job. Don't worry, we're only talking minimum wage so it won't be too much for either of us."
"What about Dad? Shouldn't he be the one paying?"
"Yeah, but I'm not about to ask him and you probably don't want to either. You know how he is about money. Besides, you'd have to pay anyone you found to keep an eye on him while you were away anyhow."
I told Livy about the conversation while we made supper together.
"Is your nephew a hottie?"
"Oh, please, he was fourteen when I last saw him. I may not have many standards but kids and relatives are right at the top of my list of people I won't sleep with."
"I didn't mean sex, asshole, but it never hurts to have a little eye candy around."
"Well, he's definitely not that. He takes after his father, who I never found attractive in any way. Jake and Lisa, the two younger kids, are the cute ones. They take after my side of the family."
"Who says you don't have an ego?"
After dinner Livy and I took two snifters and the bottle of Remy out to the front porch and settled into the two rocking chairs. I poured us each a drink and we sipped and rocked.
"Isn't this great?" It was a beautiful clear evening. It wasn't quite dark but stars were already appearing in the sky.
"Yeah, if that bottle were a jug of moonshine and we had a couple of corncob pipes we could be Ma and Pa Kettle."
"C'mon Livy, you've got to admit this is heaven."
"You really love it here, don't you, Silas?"
"Sure, I grew up here. It's a part of me."
"That's been obvious all day. It's good to see you so enthusiastic about something. Maybe my theory about you is wrong."
"You have a theory about me?"
"Of course, as I'm sure you have several about me. You always blame your aimlessness on your ADD, assuming that quack you go to is right and you actually have it. But I've always thought that maybe your problem was a lack of passion."
"I'll bet several of my clients would beg to differ with you on that, my dear."
"I'm not talking about sexual energy."
"I know, but I still disagree. There are lots of things I've been very into, maybe too many things."
"Yeah, but only for a short time as evidenced by your various studies, your lack of vocational direction, even your lack of a romantic life. You're all over the place and don't stick with anything for any length of time. You remind me of the U2 song, I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For. Or, given that you're a gay man, Cher's version of the song would be more appropriate."
"At least I keep looking. While I used to love Mom's old Peggy Lee records, I haven't yet settled on Is That All There Is? as my theme song just yet."
"But what are you looking for? Do you have any idea? Sometimes I think you're the least self-aware person I know. You don't let anyone in to see who you really are and so even you don't know who you are."
"I'm not that bad. I think I've always been pretty open with you."
"Yes, but not with anyone else. Even you admit one of the reasons you don't assert yourself as an individual is that you're afraid people will see you as you've always seen your father. You'd rather just blend in and not be noticed, or at least be so agreeable no one could object to you. But the Silas I've grown to love over the years isn't at all like the man you describe your father to be. You're a great guy, bright, educated, caring, funny, sometimes a bit of a bitch, but then who isn't on occasion?"
"I know I've got to find myself, as they used to say in the sixties, and do it pretty soon. I realize I can't keep up this aimless life much longer. I'm surprised I'm still doing as well as I am as an escort at my age. Most of the other guys at the service are in their early to mid-twenties. Nobody wants an old whore, you know."
"I'm not trying to depress you, Silas, but it's time for you to grow up and decide what you want out of life. I'm beginning to think that staying here for a while may be a good thing for you. It's a chance for you to take a step back from your life and think about what's really important. Unfortunately, living in this isolation isn't going to do much for your love life though."
"Living in a gay ghetto for a dozen years hasn't exactly been the best for it either. I think I'm the only guy in Chelsea who hasn't had at least one serious boyfriend. If I spent any more time hanging out in the clubs I'd probably develop a serious drinking problem. But even in the cruisiest bars I never get hit on."
"I've seen you in clubs and you don't just send out the wrong signals, you usually send out no signals at all. You're a good-looking guy, Silas, but somehow you tend to blend into the crowd. You act like you're not looking for anything so no one realizes you're available."
"So now you're an expert on cruising?"
"Hey, I get lucky a lot more than you do. It couldn't hurt to take my advice."
The way my love life had been it couldn't hurt to take anyone's advice. Whatever I was doing on my own sure wasn't working.
Sunday morning we went to a local farm and garden center and bought seeds and small plants for the vegetable garden. Mom had always started the garden a few weeks earlier than this but it wasn't too late. I'd decided to plant only about a third of the garden. That would yield plenty of veggies for Dad and me and enough to put up in the fall as well.
Livy and I were just finishing up the planting in mid-afternoon when Uncle Frank and Aunt Mary dropped by. Supposedly they were there to drop off a casserole and pie she'd baked for Dad and me but I was sure they'd heard about Livy and had come by to check her out. We put the food in the refrigerator and I took out a pitcher of iced tea I'd made and poured glasses for Livy, Aunt Mary and me. Uncle Frank helped himself to the Jack Daniels. We all went out to sit on the front porch where they told me about their visit to the hospital the day before.
"He's not looking too good, Silas. Are you sure he should come home tomorrow?"
"It's not up to me. The doctors know a lot more about that than I do. But I'm sure he wants to get out of there and come home. I would imagine he's not a good patient."
"You know how independent he's always been." I would have used words like stubborn or ornery but Uncle Frank was Dad's best friend so you'd expect him to go with a gentler term. "It's got to be tough on him being told what he can and can't do."
"I'm going to try not to boss him around too much but he'll have to cooperate. As long as he takes care of himself and does what the doctor wants I won't have to tell him anything."
When Livy went into the house for the iced tea pitcher and bottle of whiskey, Uncle Frank smiled after her then gave me a thumbs up sign. Aunt Mary leaned toward me and also smiled.
"I like your girlfriend, Silas. She's sweet."
I wasn't sure anyone had accused Livy of being sweet before. I wanted to correct their take on our relationship but wasn't sure which way to go. I knew I'd have to come out to them sooner or later. It made me uncomfortable to let them go on assuming things about me that weren't true. But I wasn't sure this was the right time with Livy here. It suddenly occurred to me that Dad would probably be present at any future conversations with the Perrys so this might be my last chance to have a reasonable discussion with them. Livy returned with the drinks and I decided to go for it.
"Before you go any further and start planning our wedding, I think there's something you should know, folks."
I could see by the confused look on her face that Livy was wondering what had gone on in the two minutes she'd been in the house.
"Livy's not my girlfriend, just a friend. You see, I'm gay. Mom knew about it for a number of years but Dad found out just before I left home." Neither of them showed much of any kind of reaction. "You know what I'm talking about?"
"Of course we do," Uncle Frank growled. "We may be farmers but we're not dumb hicks."
"I know you're not but you didn't seem to be reacting."
"It's just a little bit of a surprise, dear. We weren't expecting that." Aunt Mary didn't actually act very surprised. Maybe Mom had said something to her long ago.
"I don't mean to force the issue on you but I thought you should know because you were always important in my life and we're going to be seeing a lot of each other now. Are you okay with it?"
"Well, I don't really understand it but I've seen male animals go after one another so I know it happens in nature." Uncle Frank seemed less at ease than Aunt Mary but still not antagonistic.
"Besides, our niece Sandra is gay. You remember her from high school don't you? Petite thing, long blonde hair?" I knew who Aunt Mary was talking about and when I thought about it for a minute I wasn't surprised to hear Sandy was gay. She'd been as shy and withdrawn as me in school.
"So this is what's behind the split with your father?" Uncle Frank asked doubtfully.
"Part of it. We never got along and I think this was just the final straw."
"Yeah, I'd guess it must be more than that. Sam has always been a live-and-let-live kind of guy."
I'm sure my astonishment showed.
"We are talking about the same Sam Willson, right?"
"Oh, I know what you mean, Silas. Sam's always had strong opinions and makes sure everyone knows them, but once he gets it out of his system he really doesn't care how others live, as long as they don't bother him."
"I suppose you could look at it that way but when it came to me he never seemed to 'get it out of his system' as you put it."
"That's because you matter more to him than anyone else. He's always wanted the best for you."
I couldn't agree with that statement but I really didn't want to get into it. I'd come out to a better reception than I'd hoped, so that was enough for me.
"Well, we've got to get back to the cows." Frank turned to Livy. "Are you staying out here for a while?"
"No, I've got to get back to the city. Silas is taking me home this evening."
"Well, we hope you come back again soon, girlfriend or not."
As they were leaving I heard Livy ask Aunt Mary, "So, this niece of yours, is she single?"
Livy and I cleaned up and then it was time to head back into the city. On the way she returned to our conversation from the night before.
"I think this is going to be good for you, Silas. While you always fit into the city well you've also seemed a bit like an observer there, not really a part of it. Out here you seem to be connected with what's around you."
"I don't know what you mean about being an observer. I take part in life in the city. I eat out, go to clubs, see shows and concerts."
"Yeah, but it's like you're just passing through, killing time until you decide what you really want."
"Back to that 'what do you want to be when you grow up?' question again. You're like a broken record."
"I don't mean to be. Tell you what, I won't bring it up again as long as you promise to use your time in the country to think about it."
"Not that it will stop you, but I promise."
We stopped by my apartment so I could pick up my mail and then give the key to the mailbox to Livy. As soon as I could get on the Internet I'd give the post office a temporary forwarding order but until then Livy had offered to do the forwarding.
I managed to find a place to park the truck on the street not far from my client's loft in Tribeca. I stepped off the elevator and knocked on his door. It was opened almost immediately by a wiry Italian in his late thirties.
"Right on time for your appointment, sir. What can I do for you today?"
"Just a shave, Mario."
"You know where the chair is." He stood aside and with a sweeping gesture of his arm he both invited me in and pointed to the old-fashioned barber's chair in one corner of the large room. "Make yourself comfortable."
While I took off my clothes he covered the chair with a plastic sheet and then began to sharpen a straight razor on the leather strop. I got into the chair and he adjusted it, lowering the back until I was lying flat. He pumped the lever which raised the chair up to a height where he could comfortably work on me. He then picked up a mug and started swirling a brush in it, working up a lather that he then spread on my chest. I didn't have more than a few hairs on my chest but he got them all. He then moved on to my arms, gently scraping away the golden fuzz on them.
He worked his way down my left leg and up my right, leaving not a hair behind. As he finished each section of my body he used a wet towel, then a dry one, to remove any remaining traces of soap. Then it was time for the piece-de-resistance, my faint treasure trail and the family jewels. This part always made me a little nervous. While I'd been through this several times with Mario and trusted him, having a sharp blade working over my favorite part of my anatomy was a bit disconcerting. I usually distracted myself by thinking of other things. Mario, not his real name, was an investment banker who worked for a hedge fund. He probably made more in a week than I'd made in my whole life. But his father and grandfather, both really named Mario, had been barbers and my client had grown up in their shop where he'd learned the trade and developed a fetish.
I smiled as I thought about a comment of Livy's the day before. When she was taking the nude photos she'd expressed surprise that I had neatly trimmed pubes. She said she thought it was the style for gay men to shave them. I'd been tempted to tell her of this upcoming date but had kept quiet. Once I gave her details of one date she'd want to know about them all.
By the time Mario had scraped away every last hair from my pubes I had a raging hardon. If everyone found being shaved as erotic an experience as I did it was no wonder it was so popular. Mario had me roll over, not an easy thing to do in a barber's chair, and he defoliated my dorsal side, ending by spreading my ass cheeks and swiping away the few stray hairs around my hole.
My dick was still as hard as steel when I turned back over. Mario raised the back of the seat somewhat so I could sit comfortably, reclining only slightly, and then dove down on my rigid penis. He probably hadn't learned his deep-throat technique in the barber shop but he was every bit as adept at it as he was the shaving. He was so good at swallowing my entire seven inches and then sucking the life out of me every time he pulled off that I could have come in no time, but I knew he enjoyed sucking so I held off as long as I could before exploding, shooting my load down his throat.
After he'd drained every last drop from me he stood up, licking his lips. He held a hand mirror in several positions so I could see my body from every angle.
"Everything to your satisfaction, sir?"
"Perfect as always, Mario."
As I drove home that night I thought of one thing I could thank Dad for. I would not be able to make it to what was always my sloppiest date. Usually the day after my grooming appointment with Mario, while my body was still smooth, I had a date with a food freak who liked to use my body as a plate. He'd spread all kinds of gooey food all over me and then eat it off. Karen would have to find another smooth escort for that job this time.
It was a little after nine when I got to the hospital the next morning. I stopped at the nurses' station and was relieved to find out Dr. Patel was on the floor but hadn't been to see Dad yet. I wasn't looking forward to spending time alone in the room with Dad but I wanted to be there when the doctor went over his discharge orders. Since the doctor would apparently be there in just a few moments I figured it was safe to go to Dad's room.
This time he wasn't in bed. He was sitting in a chair, already dressed, waiting to be released, staring at the floor in front of him. When he heard me he looked up and his face registered disappointment. I tried not to take it personally. I knew he was hoping it would be Dr. Patel coming in to discharge him. He looked back down at the floor without saying a word. I walked over to the window and looked out. Dressed, he didn't look as bad as he had the other day but his appearance still shocked me. After a minute I couldn't take the hostile silence.
"Look, Dad, there's no reason why we can't get along, even if neither of us likes the situation. After all, even the US and Soviet Union spoke to each other during the Cold War. Can we call a truce, or détente, or something?"
"I don't have a problem with that. Just don't think we're gonna be friends. Not unless you've changed a lot."
"Changed? What do you mean by that? Just tell me what you want out of me and I'll try to do it."
He slowly shook his head.
"Nope, same old Silas."
Dr. Patel chose that moment to enter the room so I couldn't ask Dad what he meant by that. It was just as well. I was afraid if we went any deeper into his opinion of me it would only make things worse.
The doctor first gave us each a list of medications he was prescribing and explained what they were and how to take them. There were two drugs to control blood pressure, one for cholesterol, and one for the heart failure. There was another to take in case he experienced angina and he also wanted Dad to take a baby aspirin every day. I couldn't remember ever seeing Dad take as much as a vitamin so I wasn't sure how well he'd deal with the pill regimen. He grumbled but listened without talking back. He saved that for when Dr. Patel handed us each a sheet of paper with dietary restrictions and suggestions on it.
"No way I can eat like this. No salt, no fat, no beef, no bacon, no dairy, no eggs, nothing fried. And who's gonna cook all this fish, chicken and vegetables?"
"Don't worry, Dad, I'll take care of the food. We'll work out something you'll like."
"Here's some information on our visiting nurse service." He gave us more paper. "They're expecting you to call this afternoon to set up an intake interview."
"I don't need any nurse. Once I get out of here and get home I'll be just fine."
"We have to monitor your medications and vital signs for a while, Mr. Willson. Your heart has sustained serious damage and all of this medication is new to you. We have to make sure you take it right and that it's doing the job."
"Don't worry, doctor, I'll call and make the arrangements."
Dad started to complain when an orderly brought in a wheelchair to take him downstairs but calmed down when he explained it was hospital policy for all patients to be wheeled out when being discharged. The orderly waited with Dad while I went to get the truck. Dad had a little trouble getting up into the truck but refused my help so I just stood there holding the door while he struggled. By the time I went back around the truck and got behind the wheel Dad was rifling through the glove compartment. He pulled out a pack of Winston's and pushed in the cigarette lighter.
"You've got to be kidding, Dad. Didn't you listen to the doctor at all? You have to quit smoking."
"I know smoking's no good for me, son. Every cigarette I've had for fifty-five years has been bad for me. But it's too late to do any good by quitting now. My heart and lungs just aren't getting the job done any more and quitting isn't going to change that or extend my life one extra day. Maybe if I'd quit ten or twenty years ago it would have made a difference but all it would do now is make me even crankier than I am and I don't think either one of us wants that.
I knew he had a point but I refused to give in to him. He lit the cigarette, took a deep drag and began to cough.
"How about we compromise? No smoking in the house. If you want a cigarette you can go out on the porch. That way you'll cut down a little and we'll both be able to breathe better."
"You're telling me I can't smoke in my own house?"
"Yeah, I am. As long as I'm living there with you it's my house, too, and I won't put up with it."
He was quiet a moment.
"You've got no right to make demands but just to show I'm not unreasonable I'll go along with it."
There was no further conversation on the forty-five minute trip home. I stopped at the drug store where Mom had had her prescriptions filled and dropped off the ones Dr. Patel had given us. It was going to take a while to fill them so that meant a trip back later.
At the house Dad still refused my help. He did use the cane for balance going up the walk, but complained that I was hovering.
"If I fall you're not gonna be able to catch me anyway, so just stay out of my way."
"You'd get less winded if you didn't do so much yapping, especially when you're walking."
Dad had to use the railing to pull himself up the two steps onto the porch but he made it. He did sit as soon as he got there though.
"This really stinks, Silas. I've been slowing down the last couple of years, getting winded if I tried to do much, but even two weeks ago I was going to the barn a few times a day, milking the cows, feeding the chickens. No heavy work but light chores. It wasn't a problem. Now it's like I got ten years older overnight."
"The doctor said your heart wasn't in good shape to begin with. That's why you were getting out of breath and feeling tired. But the heart attack did a lot of damage on top of that. You're just going to have to take things slowly. Do you want me to get you something to drink?"
"You don't have to wait on me. If I want something I'll get it myself." He got up and went into the house.
The rest of the day his mood was unpredictable but I finally figured him out, although I didn't understand it. If I tried to help he rebelled and got nasty. If I got mad at him and told him off he accepted it and pretty much did as he was told. His reactions were just the opposite of what I'd expect. I decided it was best to avoid him as much as possible by concentrating on chores, checking up on him occasionally.
The appointment I'd made with the nursing service was for ten the next morning so when a Jeep Wrangler pulled into the driveway a few minutes before that I assumed it was the nurse. Dad was in his bedroom so I rapped on the door and told him that the nurse had arrived. There was a knock on the front door just before I got to it. I was surprised to be greeted by the deep blue eyes and beaming smile of Declan Kelly, dressed in a form-fitting dark blue polo shirt and khakis.
"Declan! What brings you out here?"
"I'm here to see your father," he said, handing me a business card that read Declan Kelly, RN.
"You're a nurse! So that's your day job."
"Yup, and whenever I see the name of someone I know on our new patient list I turn on the charm to get the assignment."
Just looking at me with those beautiful eyes was all the charm I could handle. Any more and my knees would go weak.
"You gonna make the man stand on the porch all day? Ask him in." Dad had shuffled up behind me.
"Oh, yeah, c'mon in," I stammered. I stepped aside and he walked in carrying a small case.
"I've got a lot of paperwork to complete so it'd be best if we sat at a table."
Dad led the way into the dining room.
"You're walking pretty good, Mr. Willson. How do you feel?"
"Like shit, Declan. How'd you expect me to feel?"
"After what you've been through, like shit." Declan laughed. I just stared at him, mesmerized, unable to say anything. "Well, let's get to work."
He filled out an interminable questionnaire, asking Dad all kinds of questions about his medical history as well as that of his parents. I listened, not minding how long it took as long as I could enjoy the view of Declan across the table. After about half an hour he checked Dad's pulse, blood pressure and blood oxygen level then had him walk around the house until he was huffing and puffing and checked them again.
"How'd I do, Declan?"
"Not bad. Pulse up and oxygen down, both to be expected. Blood pressure steady so that means the medication is working. The doctor's ordered oxygen that will be delivered later today or tomorrow. It's only for you to use when you're feeling exhausted or having trouble breathing."
He explained he'd be coming back three times a week until he was sure Dad's medication was doing what it was supposed to. We set up a schedule starting the next morning and that was it. I got up and escorted him to the front door.
"See you tomorrow, Silas."
I managed to get a grunt of agreement out and then stood there and watched as he walked toward his car. His pants weren't tight but they hugged that beautiful round butt.
"Get your mind out of your pants," Dad grumbled as he walked past me to the living room. "You're not his type."
"Wh-what do you mean?" I was trying to play innocent about his first remark but wanted to know what he meant by the second. I followed him into the living room.
"You were practically drooling all through the interview. I'm sure Declan must have noticed but he's too polite to say anything. And while I don't really know what his type is, I am sure he likes girls. He was quite the ladies man until he got engaged a few years back."
"So he's married, then?" I felt like I had a large rock in my stomach.
"No, she broke it off. She must have been crazy to drop a good man like him."
"How do you know so much about him?" A feeling of relief washed over me. I knew it was silly- he was straight - but I liked the idea that he was still available.
"I've spent a lot of time drinking in the Blarney Stone and when it comes to gossip, old men in a bar are just as bad as old women over the back fence."