Copyright 2003 by Nicholas6996@hotmail.com
This is a fictional story of loving between friends, young and old. If you don't like friendship, don't read it. If you don't like love, I'm sorry for you. If you are not old enough to legally read this, find your friend and have him read it to you.
Stocking Stuffer Part 17 Spring Break Part 7
Soon my Tiger was hanging on my arm wiping about a half gallon of dribbles on my shoulder. I knew he was getting tired, I could see it in his eyes. "Hey, Tiger, let's get you home and to bed. Big spelling test tomorrow!" I announced. He groaned and rolled his eyes and taking my hand led the way to the car. I watched as Tommy took out his own set of keys and climbed into the drivers seat of Brian's minivan. My brain just groaned thinking that that would be my Stephy wanting to drive in just a few short years. I wondered at all the trial and tribulations Brian had gone through to get Tommy to this age with such a wonderful personality and kind heart. I hoped my Steph would be able to grow up just like him.
As we got in, I leaned over and buckled Steph up and gave him a big hug.
"What's that for?" he asked.
"Just 'cause I love you!" I sniffled back.
Steph reached over and put his hand on my thigh and kept it touching me all the way home.
We kept the appointment with the tailor after school. Brian was there in his full Store Manager regalia. I couldn't imagine having to wear a suit and tie every day, but Brian looked very good in what must have been a $1,000 Italian masterpiece. He carried the air of authority and the assurance of a man who commanded respect. The department manager in the men's department clearly deferred to that authority, but glowed with pride as Brian allowed him to run the fitting. It was fascinating watching the master in authority clearly give permission for excellence, and then watch the others carry out the process with flawless precision. My tailor took me to the left side mirror and dais and began to help me disrobe to begin the measuring process. At the other mirrors, Stephy had everyone's undivided and uninterrupted attention.
The little imp who had barely ever been clothes shopping in his life walked into the palatial fitting rooms as if he was the Tsarevich reincarnate. He may have walked in in tennis shoes, jeans and a polo shirt, but his proud bearing and his shining smiles made it seem he had arrived amid gold brocades and polished silks. As his tailor lead him to the raised fitting platform, he turned, beamed at me and told the room that he was going with his Dad to a very important publishing party and that he wanted to look his best so I'd be proud of him.
God, I was so proud right then I thought I'd burst. I gazed across at him and melted into the love I could see broadcast directly at my heart. My tailor silently produced an impeccable silk hanky and sighed as he watched me dab the tears from the corners of my eyes.
The room hushed and time seemed to stand still as we all watched Steph begin to undress. This was no striptease, there was no erotic overtone, but I don't think anyone even breathed. Steph stood there like a boy god and commanded our homage without a hint of any emotion or motivation beyond radiant love and innocence. No Venus ever rose from the sea in her abalone scallop shell, no Botticelli cherub winged against the rooftop heavens, no Gainsborough youth stood so self assured in such perfection. His slender arms crossed his chest and stomach with perfect fingers grasping opposite sides of his shirt tail, then effortlessly his arms rose and wrist passing wrist he revealed his torso. It was like a curtain drawn up revealing a frighteningly beautiful sunrise designed only by nature herself. His hip bones were first, jutting just above the unbelted loops of his jeans. I'd never noticed before, but the winking accent of the rivets on his jeans led the eye up toward those precious points of bone. Then the natural taper inward of his waist continued drawing the eye upward as his navel first winked them peeked from under the shirt. His crossing wrists at this point commanded the eyes to center, then separate as the shirt raised farther and the twin areolae of his golden nipples asserted their dominance of his bright white chest. The symmetry of their placement, the stiffness of their semi-erect nubs, the upward curving thrust of the ribs beneath and the striking hollow of the sternum in between first grabbed the eyes, then led them onward, upward as the curtain of the shirt continued on its path.
Those eyes so obedient to the trail blazed up this alabaster vision now seemed to cry in agony. Which way to go? What line to follow? Which perfect path now demands their caress? To the right and left strong lines lead outward along the collarbones. The determined thrust outward, half again as far apart as the hip bones brought a balance, a perfect ratio, a magical visual interplay of points and lines and curves and circles. But between those lines a deeper set hollow drew the eye inward; inward and then along the tendons of the neck upward again, across the smooth expanse of throat unmarred by yet undeveloped vocal box. Upward now with the inverted vee of the shirt's retreating neckline. Upward still across the chin to the hint of lips, the tiniest splash of ruby red rising from the sculpted marble and then a moments hesitation, a straining on the fabric of the shirt, a barely visible pursing of those hinted lips and a sudden release of all the brilliance in a thousand suns. The face, fully formed, radiantly shedding love and light bedazzled as it burst from behind the rising curtain.
I hear the sudden gasp of inhaled breath. I feel the stillness of the room. I fall helplessly into the gravity hole of those eyes as Steph enfolded me in his gaze.
The shirt, forgotten now falls softly by his feet but grabs again at eyes by dint of motion. Those feet then do a tiny dance, a pirouette of sorts, a private minuet and suddenly the shoes are moved aside, the ankle high socks seeming to fall away beneath the nuzzle of a toe first right then left. I watch the unparalleled beauty as first the right toes curl around the just shed sock and lift it like a precious pearl and place it in the open mouth of its brother shoe. I marvel as the left toes then repeat the tiny passion play and gift their shoe with brother sock.
Involuntarily my eyes jump back the full length of my god's body and once again we meet across the universe of love. A simple motion of his hands and now my eyes are riveted to his sleek fingers meeting once again in the center of his body, at the center of my life. This time there are no inward gasps of breath, there is no long and winding trail. He simply unbuttons his jeans and lets them fall to puddle at his ankles. The whole room sighs as he steps back one tiny step and draws his hands aside. The shimmering blue of the tiniest of silken bikini briefs sets off the radiant whiteness of the Carrara marble of the statute he has so graciously allowed us to glimpse, to behold, to worship.
With an audible murmur of something like a long forgotten prayer to the boy god, the tailors turned their attention to their appointed task. I hardly noticed the tailor moving, measuring, notating the statistics of my own body as I see across the room what looks like adult acolytes in ritual dance and prostration to my boy god. Steph's eyes never left mine across the room as we sent love like some charged particle through the air. Amidst the measurements and then the slipping on of this or that piece of cloth, the twisting round and standing this way, then that way as pins were set, the quiet murmurs of the tailors marked almost a litany of praise as undertone in the room. We had a private fitting, so no one entered this domain so clearly claimed by the vision across the room.
Then a low, awe filled "WOW!" from the back of the room and I heard Mikey's voice quietly affirm, "I told you he'd look hot in those Tommy." and Stephy turned his gaze from me. If possible, his face softened and then brightened even more as he saw Tommy and Mikey with Scotty and Gene at the back of the room.
Sensing the turning of their god's attention, the tailors magically finished their task in just moments and I watched fascinated as the one directing Stephy's fitting seemed to invisibly dress the boy back in the clothes he'd set aside. I watched what seemed the actuality of the worship as the clothes were offered, donned and adjusted. Then Steph was stepping down from his dais and the god was set aside. Skipping across the room and dancing in a hugged embrace of all his friends my boy was back to normal. I prayed the immortality I had glimpsed would stay with him forever.
We all left with promises of a final approval fitting for a week away. Brian, with a shining boy under each arm, imperially inspected the room and his assembled managers and tailors and pronounced, "Excellent job gentlemen, you have done the store proud." I could see the pride swell in the men and I could feel the power Brian had received by so publicly bestowing his praise.
We all headed to our cars and met again at Donatello's. The boys of course were off to the video games. Tommy swelled with his own enhanced pride as Brian poured him a beer along with one for each of us.
"So," Brian said. "What did you think of Steph's briefs?"
Before I could even answer, Tommy was giggling like a school boy and Brian looked at him and nodded permission. The story came streaming out. "Mikey told me he went with Dad to the store this morning and followed his morning tour through all the departments. He was surprised by all the glitzy things on the floor, but even more so by the stockrooms and areas behind the floor. When they got to the buyers area one of the boys buyers was just opening a package from a prospective vendor." He paused and looked at Brian who was beaming with his own pride at Tommy. Smiling even more broadly, Tommy continued, "She's a nice lady and I've always liked her. She must have liked Mikey because she called him over and asked him to look at the things in the package and tell her what he thought. He'd gone over and seen a t shirt that was pretty cool and a jacket that was terrible. He told her and then she reached in and found that pair of bikinis. Holding them she asked Mikey if he would buy and wear those. He said he blushed like mad, but told her they looked too big. As she started to put them away he told her had a friend that would love them though and she laughed and handed them to him saying, "Well, make your friend happy today!" Then he pestered Dad the whole rest of the day until they went and got a little box and a card and made a little present. They stopped by your house and put it on the doorstep for Steph when he came home from school."
Suddenly Steph was at my shoulder grinning and continued the story. "Yeah I saw it there when I got home and ran inside to my room. I thought you'd left me something Nick. But when I opened it and saw the card from Mikey is was so surprised. He called ME his savior and hoped I'd like his little gift. Well I tried 'em on and they felt so nice and looked so cool I just kept them on. It was so nice of him, but YOU really saved him Nick. You were the one that found him first and helped us with our plan. I Love You!" and he was draped around my neck. The rest of the boys had appeared from deep inside their electronic adventures and the table was covered in hugging Dads and boys. Then magically, there was pizza.
The next few days were a blur of activity. Steph of course had school and the Skills Tests. I was writing like a mad man during the day and running around like one every evening. Steph was like a well trained research assistant making lists and pouring over web sites. His lists were things to do and things to see and things to take and things to buy to bring home. Somehow we managed to make it through the appointed tasks and soon the final fitting time arrived.
This couldn't have been more different than the first public worshiping of the god boy. This time Tommy and Mikey and Scotty were there from the beginning and as we entered the fitting room they split off to the changing room on the right and my tailor led me to the rooms on the left. It was a flurry of motion for me, trying first pants, then frilly shirt, then cumberbund. There was a panic as shirt studs were lost then found and then clear and patient directions on how to tie the tie. I didn't move from my little room, I didn't see my Steph, I didn't have time to even think about what was happening on his side of the common areas. Then suddenly the tailors were done with me, I was being pushed out, a hanging bag of clothes was pressed into my hands and I found myself almost unceremoniously tossed out of the fitting rooms back on the main floor of the mens department. Before I had a chance to think, the boys were spilling out the doorway right behind me. They were a hooting pack of giggling prepubescents barely under the control of Tommy. You could see in his every motion he was torn between whether he was one of them, or one of us. I think he sighed with relief as he quickly turned control, what little was possible, over to me. Since Brian and Gene had another hour or so to work, I took the writhing horde with me and we made short work of the entire food court. Stephy demanded we visit the Cookie Factory and there seemed some hidden boyish ritual of saluting each other and then saluting Mike with chocolate chip covered grins.
Finally it was Friday noon and our entire tribe was meeting at the airport ticket counter. The boys were perfectly behaved although you could see the excitement and anticipation in the eyes. As I checked us in the harried counter clerk suddenly looked up from her computer screen and with a slight shrug she seemed to manage to shift some tension from her body. "Oh, Mr. Nick!" she glowed. "My son loves your books I have to get them for him first thing! I'm so glad you'll be flying with us. It's pleasure to have you. I hope your flight is as enjoyable as you make your books for my boy."
I couldn't even sputter a thanks when Steph piped up at my shoulder, "Hi, I'm Nick's boy. What's your boy's name? We're going to a book signing for Dad's new book and I bet we could get you a special signed copy? Don't you think so Dad?"
"Yes, Steph. That's very thoughtful, we can bring one back with us next week." I said looking first at Steph and then the ticket agent.
She beamed now with pleasure and as she finished checking us in she made a note of her boy's name and her name so I could leave the book for her as we left the plane. Handing me the boarding passes, she called over another agent and turned her station over to them. "Since you are all in first class for the trip, let me take you to the Voyagers Club. I'm sure your wait will be more pleasant there."
I could tell that Gene and Brian were impressed by the service, but I just grinned. They hadn't seen anything yet. When my publisher did something like a publication party at a convention, they did it right!
Comments to email@example.com