Date: Fri, 21 Feb 2003 15:24:09 +1030 From: andrew staker Subject: "Lolito" chapter 9 LOLITO Chapter 9 1:1 In the beginning, Mr W greeted me. "Good morning Peter! I see you're dressed and ready." 2 And I daresay I was. Brad was wearing a cream-coloured shirt and soft trousers: a softness I surreptitiously investigated in the moving car. Exit car, enter modest, bricked, circa 1960s RC church building. 3 I tried not to betray my foreignness to the gathering. Mass began. 1:4 A godly priest, heavyset and wearing ceremonial garb, flanked by wispy altar boys, guided us through it. 5 "The Lord be with you" "And also with you" reflected many times. 6 He read a Psalm (I think it was Ps. lxix) then a story from Matthew's Gospel. 1:7 Eventually the wine and bread were blessed. Then the sheep lined up and received the Body (corpus) and Blood (vinum) of Christ (Iesus Nazarenus Rex Iudaeorum). I stayed like a fool in the pew. 8 When that part was over, Mr W sped in my ear: "Why didn't you get up?" 1:9 "I'm not sure I'm Catholic." His frame shook slightly. I discarded his sentiments and returned to recalling Brad's pretty head touched by the priest while eating the holy Pringle. 10 It was quite a long ordeal, so after the "Go in peace..." and "Thanks be to God" 11 I thought we'd leave. 12 But husband and wife talked amongst themselves, looking at their kids and at me. 2:1 Then Mrs Winckelmann disappeared. He came to me. 2 He explained his dilemma. Would I attend Sunday school with his kids? 3 Well, not kids... just kid. 4 "Katie is too old... she's been Confirmed." 2:5 "But aren't I too old, too?" I asked confusedly. 2:6 He looked at his approaching wife. 7 Winckelmann (Mrs) said: "It's okay..." 2:8 He said: "Will you attend Sunday school with our son?" I overlooked his overbearing attitude. 9 I would be with Brad. They would be without Brad. 10 I assented. Confirmed. 11 "We'll pick you up around lunchtime." They went, Katie looking back once. 2:12 A pie-plump woman beckoned us enter a room. 3:1 Assembled boys and girls, no older than twelve or whatever, stared at us, at me especially. 2 Mrs O'Kay said: "Now boys and girls, these are Peter and Brad, visiting our group. 3 Please make them welcome." Smile. 4 She smiled; I (tried to) smile. A collective, paedic, droned 'Hello Peeeeter and Braaaad' followed. 5 Little girls with pony-tails and thick glasses, cute boys with sneakers, runny noses and the stuffy smell of summer feet all amalgamated on the due-for-a-clean carpet. 3:6 "Today we're going to look at one of the commandments, the one that says that you should honour your mum and your dad. 7 It's an important one. Can anyone tell me why?" the teacher of Christ said. 8 A few timid hands rose. She picked a chubby, freckly girl. "Yes Magda?" 3:9 "Um... because we belong to them?" 3:10 "Interesting answer. What about you Len?" 3:11 Len, a curious little Asian boy, not younger than Brad, responded: 12 "Because we are a symbol of their love and they love us and we can show them our love by showing them honour?" 4:1 "Very good!" Mrs O'Kay commended. "So we see that our parents are those who love us, and care for us. 2 We have to love them as much as they love us." 4:3 "What about when they don't let us watch Pikachu on the TV?" said Outburst Child. 4:4 "Because," Mrs O'Kay said, "the yellow daemon in those cartoons would harm your heart and mind. 5 So they are protecting you." Ahhh. Makes sense. Agape. 4:6 "Now boys and girls. 7 I want you to make a poster of you, your parents and God. 8 How you all live together? Okay?" 4:8 "Yes Mrs O'Kay!" we all enthused. 4:9 Me make a poster? How demeaning. But Brad bought into it. He was zipping hither and thither, to and fro, gathering this and that. Naturally I didn't make a stupid poster. I sat and watched. 10 Little Len and Brad started talking. They seemed to have much in common, because the liveliness of their discussion increased. 11 At one point, Brad poured spirits in the Asian boy's ear whilst they both looked at me. 12 A sly face they both wore afterward. It only compounded my discomfort. 5:1 Mrs O'Kay came back, carrying with her the sinful smell of cigarettes. "Okay children. 2 How are we all going? Ready to discuss your poster? Good!" 5:3 So the room of twelve youngsters formed a circle. 4 There were yellow-crayoned figures, brown-crayoned figures and all else. 5 There were cats and dogs. God assumed the shape of Jesus, always white and Roman. 6 "This is me and dad and mum and my brother Tom and my sister Jenny and my grandma and my grandpa and my uncle and auntie and cousin and cousin and other cousin and my fish and my parrot and..." she trailed off. 7 The brother (the only stick figure I bothered to inspect) was a redhead. 8 Never seen one of those up close. 5:9 Then some girls and boys talked about theirs. Magda spoke, then Len. The Asian boy didn't have any brothers or sisters, or pets. 10 And his God was a simple yellow halo. 11 He had that reserved dignity which Europe either dismisses or unsuccessfully replicates. 12 Then Brad. He said: "This is my mum and dad. Then there's my sister... she's holding a mobile phone. 6:1 Plus my cat. I left him at home. And this is Peter." 2 To my gross unease, he had depicted me naked, walking like a dog on the sand. "He and I play at the beach." 6:3 For an X reason I got a hard-on and my face started to sear. I covered my crotch and zoomed to the toilet. 4 I sat inside the cubicle, wanting to sob but not being able. The little prick had betrayed me, had betrayed us. There was no us anymore. 6:5 I heard someone enter the toilet, approach my cubicle and knock. 6 "Peter?" the tender boy-voice tested. 7 "It's me. Are you okay?" Lolito asked. 8 After a while of my non-reply, he urged: "Open the door." 6:9 Of course I relented! He came in. He hugged me, his boy-hand moving up through my hair. 10 He whispered: "Have you been crying?" I nodded no. 11 He said no more. His hands played with my ears, then the hair at the back of my head. 12 His hands were on my chest, playing with my erecting nipples. 7:1 Poor little Lolito, what was I doing to you? 7:2 He pushed the door and urged me sit down. He traced light lines across my face, looking at me. His eyes and my eyes. 3 His lips and mine. His tongue, mine. I couldn't help it. Though I had seen his young torso before, I unbuttoned his shirt. 4 My hands trembled, feeling the body warmth radiate from smooth teenage skin. 7:5 An angelic--from above--laugh, at first ethereal, became flesh. I looked. FUCK! That bloody Asian boy, Len, was watching from the cubicle next to us. 6 "What the fuck?" I exploded. I pushed Brad off, got up. 7 I grabbed him by the shirt collar and accosted him physically. "What you think I am? A piece of shit? 8 Play with me like that?" 7:9 He burst out crying. Boys of twelve years cry like girls of six years. My brain was asphyxiating. Air, aer, oxygen! 10 Len had scampered off by now. Lolito sobbing violently faded from my ear. I ran and ran. 11 The kirk: no more visible, forevermore remembered. 7:12 I eventually navigated to a bus stop whence I could get home. Feeling hungry, I bought a meat pie with tomato sauce. The crisp crust and steaming warmth filled me right up. It's best not to think about the contents. 8:1 Bus came, I got on, it left; gear-change crunch. 8:2 In the mailbox, surprise surprise, were advertisements only. One was for the bike-shop. There we were, Brad and I, brothers in arms, advertising Drosselmeir Stromboli's bicycles. 3 Quite a saucy pose I sported. Had Brad really been that close to me during the shoot? 4 I had the urge to go and show him. But I remembered his act of betrayal. 8:5 So instead I telephoned my mother and spoke to her whilst looking sadly upon the picture. "Bike brothers like to ride" the caption read. 6 It was quite funny. Mum was fine, but like most mothers, she could tell by my voice that something was up. I faked an ailment: Achilles heel or some such. 8:7 Time to sleep. A day at church, under the awe-inspiring weight of God, had worn me out. A dream, surreal ex definitio. 8 I saw Brad and that Asian kid. Len. They were staring down on me. 9 Phosphorescent halos around their heads, spitting on me. Pointing skinny boyish hands. 10 I struggle to look up. Their shirts dissolve off their bodies. Naked, smooth, twelve-year-olds. Taunting me. 11 They move together, Sistine Chapel vision, moulding into a lustful mass of heated nudity. He's mine you hear, mine! Leave Lolito Len! 12 Now I am drowned in white human fluid, but it's no longer saliva. I choke. I choke on their essence of their boyhood pleasure. I choke. 9:1 I wake. I need to swim, I thought. Get my head cleared. So I got my bathing suit on and headed for the water. 2 Chaste nature, omnipresent. Baptise me. I stepped in. I felt my head cool as it went underneath. 3 Breathe in deep. Breathe the breath of life. I may not be able to walk on water, but I can sure as hell play in it. 9:4 "Peter! Peter!" shouted Brad. I realised I missed him so much, I would forgive him anything. 5 "I'm sorry, I really am!" he said, tears not yet dried up. "When you left, I cried and cried. I even punched Len." 9:6 "What?" I laughed slightly. 9:7 "Yeah, gave him a real good black eye." I guess he was trying to impress me. "Can... can I hug you?" 8 I nodded. He did. 9 "Now I'm all wet!" he protested playfully. 9:10 "It's Maslin beach! Clothes are out of place here...!" 9:11 "Well... after that sign," he pointed. 9:12 "Indeed." 10:1 "Let's go there," he urged. But of course! 2 When we got into the nude section, he said: "Look." I looked at his backpack. 3 "I got a surprise for you. Now let's get naked." Well, we were in the nude section. So we walked along, flopping balls and cocks. Naturally, I flopped a fair bit more. 4 But judging by the way things were, he'd catch up in a few years... even exceed me. "I'm so happy you don't hate me!" 10:5 We headed south, to that portion of the beach where men with men seemed to hang out. He searched around and found an alcove in the rock. 6 There was sand underneath and the shade was pleasant. We sat down, I following him with no resistance. 7 "Now," he said. "You didn't do a picture for Mrs O'Kay." 10:8 "Well, it was stupid..." I reasoned. 10:9 "Yeah, it was pretty fucked," he smiled. "So," he reached into his backpack, "I got this for you." He extracted an old circular biscuit tin. 10 The wind teased his soft hair. He opened it. "Body paint!" 10:11 "What?" I was taken aback. 10:12 "You can paint a picture!" 11:1 "On you?" I asked. 11:2 "Yep. Front?" he rolled onto his back. "Or back?" he rolled onto his front. 11:3 "If I do it on the back, you won't see," I said. 11:4 "So it's the front then!" and he smiled. 11:5 "Okay." 11:6 "Remember Peter... you, your parents and God. Got that?" he checked. 11:7 So there he lay, on the soft sand, soft bo(d)y. Limp pubescent penis, rare pubes, oscillating abdomen. 8 He closed his eyes. This could have been Eden. I started making lines on my scrumptious canvas. 11:9 "It's hard with brushes," I said. 11:10 "We used our fingers at Sunday school," he remarked. 11:11 And so did I, mixing red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet. Lines and circles. I put red on his little nipples. 12 They reacted to my finger's presence. I drew a black stick figure with white halo: Christ. 12:1 Then Mumsie, and Auntie. And of course Brad. He was yellow. With blue shorts. 2 A stick-figure corroboree. His body heat dried the paint. 12:3 "Ready!" I announced. He stretched and looked. 12:4 "It's nice. And it's mine!" he smiled. "Can I paint you?" he asked. 12:5 Pretty soon I was lying on my stomach, his fingers running up and down, left and right across my back. 6 I could feel his dextrous fingers working, blending, drawing. Suddenly I felt the cool paint land on my left buttock. 7 His hand joined it. He massaged the paint around. He then put a palm print on my right cheek. 12:8 "Done!" he said. Damn bad timing. His delicate hand movements had produced an erection, which dug into the sand. 9 "Now get up." I don't know why. Enclosed in that space with naked Brad, the logic of lust took over. I couldn't handle abstinence. 10 So I did as he urged. I got up. My cock joined in. "Wow!" the boy exclaimed. "It's huge...!" 12:11 "Well, it's... it's a penis..." I humbled. 12:12 "Yeah... but when mine gets hard... it's not..." and he got shy. 13:1 "So when does sweet little Brad get hard?" I asked. 13:2 "Um..." he giggled. "When I'm watching movies..." 13:3 "And then what?" I asked. 13:4 "It goes down, right?" he said. 13:5 "But nothing more?" I was getting confused. 13:6 "No..." he said. Pause. I thought. He had his eyes fixed on my penis. "Can I... could I... touch it?" he cautioned. 7 I repositioned myself, making my semi-stiff cock more accessible. His hand grabbed it. 8 I moaned. "It feels so wide and hot!" he said. 13:9 His little member was inflating. It rose to full mast. "You must like that," I jokingly said. "Look!" I told him. 10 He checked. Half embarrassed, he attempted to apologise. 11 "So how often do you wank?" 13:12 "What's wank? I hear boys at school say it..." Brad said. 14:1 I laughed, shifting my body a bit. 2 "You're telling me you haven't wanked before?" I urged. 14:3 "Shut up! Don't make fun of me!" he revolted. 14:4 "Okay... wanking is when you rub your dick up and down, and it feels good. Like this," I said, skilfully demonstrating on my shaft. 5 "And you rub and rub, and it feels better an'... bet-ter." 14:7 Brad tried his hand. After a few abortions, he really got going. His eyes and breathing churned erratically, his skinny body tensing, his pale boyfeet digging into the sand. I watched eagerly. He came to the climax, emitting thick, clear fluid. It was his first ejaculation. 7 He flung himself back onto the sand. The paint on this upper body had run, the face of my Jesus now a mere chroma-blotch. 14:8 "Nothing ever feels that good!" he exclaimed after a while. "Thanks so much!" and he immediately hugged me. 9 "Let's go swim!" he suggested. Euphoric, we ran along the sand. He screamed ecstatically, expanding his lungs and chest. 10 He dove in and out of the waves, his smile unassailable. 11 His behaviour reminded me of my discovery of masturbation. 12 It was as if I had discovered something that had always been there and that required no one else and nothing else. Just my cock, my hand and me. 15:1 That sense of power, the power to create pleasure within oneself, was uplifting. 15:2 As if from nowhere, a grotesque figure appeared on the beach. A profusion of hair, a muddied, stained shroud enveloped it. It walked pontifically, as if haggard age delayed its movements. 3 Brad sided close to me, asking cautiously what it was. "I have no idea," I confessed. 15:4 Its sepulchre mouth opened, whence a rotten tongue profaned. It finally saw us. 5 "You Judas! Jew'd-ass... Jewarse. Fuck ya! Lick me, prick me, dick me, shitfuck..." upon which hysterical, discordant laughter filled the beach. 6 Bathers, by now distracted by the figure, were gathering. 7 "Dontcha look at me, ya cunt! Unsex me here!" and it lunged toward us. 15:8 But after a stumble, the shroud was torn, exposing some saggy tits. She got up, sand in her mouth and greasy hair. 9 "I'll kill ya..." 15:10 By now the mobile phones were ringing. Police, police, police. I overhead one man: "Yes... she sounds like that person on the news," he said. 11 "Yes, greying hair, and a off her nut!" he giggled dismissively. 15:12 After an amusing police incident (well, the ingredients: nude bathers on a nude beach, escaped mental patient, ambisexual, plus a group of four policemen, two of whom were nervous young trainees) 16:1 Brad and I headed home to watch the news. 16:2 "There it is!" he yelled, sitting on the blue couch. 3 And so it was. 4 Our news story came up. We could see ourselves. 16:5 The newsreader: "A bizarre police encounter at Maslin Beach earlier today, 6 after a much-sought escaped mental patient, 7 now dubbed Mary the Mad Virgin, was finally found and eventually arrested. 8 She is currently in hospital care at Flinders Medical Centre. 9 Sun lovers say it was an unusual excitement." 10 Cut to Brad, my Brad, on TV: 11 "Yeah... I was scared, but the police came. 12 She was really weird..." and he played with his hair, eyes moving from lens. 17:1 Next news story. 17:2 "O, I remembered something," I said. 3 I walked over and handed him the bike ad. 17:4 "Wow!" he exclaimed. 5 "I'm famous! On this, and on TV!" 6 And the slender boy, slenderly danced to the sound of his own proud jubilation. 7 "Today's a good day!" he yelled. 17:8 "Let's go for a bike ride," I suggested, "to celebrate Stromboli's bikes!" 9 He didn't make a verbal response. 10 He flew out the door, across the road. 11 "I guess that's a Yes," I trailed off. 17:12 He exited his house, bike ready. Shorts, t-shirt, white socks in sport shoes. And we rode off, unable to stop the mighty sun from setting. Today had been a revelation.