Date: Sun, 4 May 2008 11:02:54 -0700 (PDT)
From: Ted M <mpls_ted@yahoo.com>
Subject: Taking Mark's Virginity:  What's In a Name? Part 2

I know everything about him, everything.

He's an amazing kisser. He laces his left boot first every time. He's super
smart. Also he makes good red sauce for lasagna and pasta, not like Mom's
but it's still really good. He puts in too much garlic, though.  But I'm
training him on that.

So, yeah, I know everything about Vin ... but only since the day I moved
in. I can piece together about six years before that and some details from
the ten years before that. Then there's this sea of fog blocking the years
and then there's Malcolm towering above the fog and then nothing.

And it's not the Darth question that is making me wonder, because I've
been, you know, totally wondering for years.

HOLY SHIT. Darth Vader!

I kind of snap back to right now and I'm still naked and tied to a
hydraulic lift! HOLY SHIT, I'M NAKED IN VIN'S GARAGE!

Okay, well, THAT shouldn't freak me out. I've been naked in his garage
before. This one time, we --

"What do you know about Vin?" Darth repeats. He leans closer so I can feel
his breath on my ear, these regular warm breezes that are very close to my
head and it makes me squirm.

"I know he can kick your ass, you Star Wars wannabee." I tell him.

He chuckles. I hear a scraping sound and must be a metal folding chair
being dragged on the concrete floor closer to me. It's like a toaster
screaming. I can hear the metallic creak when he finally sits in it.

"Do you know where your boyfriend graduated high school?" asks Darth.

No. I don't know that.

"He didn't. Dropped out of high school. Freshman year." Says Darth. "Got
his GED at some point but that's it."

I didn't know that Vin never finished high school. I didn't know that.

"Do you know his first job in the twin cities?" he says again darkly. "It
wasn't as a mechanic."

Nope. I don't know that one either.

I am sure I'm twitching or making some sort of body reaction because he
chuckles again.

"Boy, you sure don't know much."

I do not like this man. I do not like him with his voice that does not have
kindness in it.

"Let's start with something easier. How about his name. What's your
boyfriend's name?"

I get confused by his question.

"Vin Vanbly." Says Darth, spitting out the words. "Does that sound at
all...made up to you? VIN VANBLY? Sounds sort of fake, doesn't it, little
naked man?"

I am not going to listen to this asshole talk crap about Vin. I'm not going
to. Fuck him.

So I start remembering.

I fell in love with his handwriting first. Well, that was when I knew it
was love. I just read his stupid napkin note in Romero's. My body was sore,
my ass was filled up with two loads of VinJizz and my face smelled like
armpit.

And that fucker tricked me with a note.

He knew I'd be watching him from the truck. So he wrote a note to me and
put it next to him and started chomping his pizza. And he knew that it
would drive me crazy. He knew it!

And I stumbled inside, my heart pounding `cause I was sure someone would
see me walking crooked and then say, 'Hey what's up with that guy -- does
he have two loads of cum in his butt or what?'

But nobody said that.

I sat next to Vin and when I read the note that he left for me, I saw his
block letters and nothing mattered then. I stopped wondering why I let him
put all his sticky sperm in my ass and started thinking, `it's good that
he's in me, inside me. It's where he belongs.' And I kept rereading the
words on the note and it all made sense and this Beatles song started
playing in my heart, the one that Patty used to sing.

And I thought, `Oh, I guess this is love.'

Which was ironic because Vin was explaining how there are several kinds of
love and I wanted to contradict him and tell him that sometimes the "in
love" love didn't take any time, suddenly your heart just explodes into a
Beatles song when you don't even like the Beatles because they're way
overrated, just a Baby Boomer fetish really. But I kept rereading the words
on the napkin note and my heart was pounding and I keep thinking, `So this
is how love is. Huh.'

It was like a new color was in the room, a color with no name. And I
couldn't do anything but stare at it and say, "Huh. How about that."

But he was Vin talking, so I just ate my pizza and was in amazement because
I was in love.

In love!

"Kid?" says Darth. "I expect you to answer when I ask you a question."

I lick my lips because they're dry -- oh wait, they're not exactly
dry. They're just coated with this cool icky asparagus sperm from
Gator. But I haven't spoken in a while, so I need to lick them to
speak. Ewww.

"I wasn't listening." I tell him, as calmly as possible. "You get kind of
wordy, so I tuned out."

"My apologies for being boring." He says, and his hand is suddenly hovering
over my exposed nut sack. I can feel the heat from his hand. "Please allow
me repeat myself."

HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!

"I was inquiring about Vin."

"Whaddyou wanna know?" I kind of slur out so it won't sound like stammering
or nervous.

"We're curious about his real name. Because you know, it's not Vin."

I shudder because the hand just stroked my testicle.

HOLY SHIT!

"It's weird," he sighs, "because the sign out front says `Vincent's
Garage."

"Yeah," I try to say calmly. "That's TOTALLY weird for guy named Vincent."

He chuckles.

And despite the fact that he's stroking my nuts with a light touch, there's
no kindness! I hate his touch, I hate him. Vin has totally spoiled me with
love and I am cringing because HOLY SHIT.

"We agree," he says. "That this is not unusual for a man called Vin to have
a garage -- two garages, it seems -- named Vincent's garage. That would not
be odd, then, at all."

"It's not odd..." says Darth slowly, "if your boyfriend's name was
Vincent. Yes, then it would be normal, kid. But the thing is, your
boyfriend's name isn't Vincent. I guess that's why we all thought it was a
little on the weird."

Vin opened this one, the one on Franklin Ave. because unofficially, most of
the ex-cons shack up in a poor part of St. Paul and they couldn't get to
work in Minneapolis all the time. So he started a second garage to make
sure they could work. There's this older dude, who runs this location. His
name is Dirk. A long time ago, Dirk did some murder but that was decades
ago and now at the garage he's like every ex-con's Dad. Well that, but
better than all their real fathers combined. Vin calls him King Dirk, the
Planter of Wonders.

"So who's Vincent?" he asks in a low voice. "And who is Vin? You ever
wonder about that, kid?"

Ah, I got it. Darth totally squashes the vowels in everything he says, but
mostly in the word `kid,' which I have heard twice now. He's from Chicago,
this guy. Where Vin used to live.

I knew this was about Chicago. I thought that earlier.

I am trying to be perfectly still and not react. I wasn't expecting this,
this questioning. I wasn't really thinking about Vin and his real name.

"Did you ever wonder," he says right there again and he's so close that the
words vibrate my ear. "Why there are so many ex-cons around your boyfriend?
So many guys who did hard time? That ever make you curious?"

Oh, please. Like that crap would scare me. I'm not afraid at all.

Come back, Vin.

The buzzing in my ear is gone and there's cool air rushing around me from
his moving away. He's a foot, two feet, three feet away.

I unclench. Relax.

Oh thank god -- thank god. I thought he was going to punch my nutters.

I totally sag my whole body, totally and utterly, and try to remember to
breathe and to keep listening to Darth Vador's quiet, quiet footsteps. I
hope he still has that rock in the bottom of his shoe.

I can't tell how close he is, he's totally off the radar and it's totally
quiet.

Quiet?

But I didn't hear a door open or a walkie-talkie fuzz leave the room or
anything. I suppose he could have gone into the office, but you'd think I
would have heard something.

Maybe he's standing near me, real near. But quiet and watching.

My head goes up like a deer.

Hold my breath.

Listen.

Malcolm, help me out, man. Help me. What would Malcolm do?

Listen, he's telling me. Pay attention to what's coming up, the spaces
between the quiet.

No problem.

I'm good at noticing things. I always have been.

I remember when Vin came to see me that first weekend and we had this big
fight before he left the motel, which was my fault because I didn't
understand yet, that you could trust something this big, you could totally
trust it. I just saw him leaving and the future hadn't opened up yet.

And we had a big drama and then it was cool. It was fine. But as he was
leaving I was standing in the doorway wearing only my jeans and he went to
his rental truck and stood at it, turned around and saw me in the doorway.

His jaw dropped. I mean, he's normally the king of subtlety, but this was
like a cartoon face and I knew, I KNEW that for some weirdo reason he was
totally vulnerable and soft right at that minute. That's when I knew he was
trainable.

That felt good. Because while I love it when he's in charge, sometimes I
should be in charge of certain things when it comes to us.

And I also knew in that moment of his cartoon face that if I said to him,
"Vin, I'll call you tomorrow," he would have nodded and gotten in the truck
and his dumb three week rule would have been like a balloon with the air
whizzing out of it.

But I figured that if he really felt taking three weeks apart was
important, I guess I could respect his wishes. Even if they were
stupid. He's the boss and often he's really right about stuff like this.

"Three weeks?" I grumbled and said to him.

"Three weeks." He replied and his voice was completely even-steven because
I don't even think it registered with him that he made a goon-dog face.

And after he drove away from our motel, I plopped back down on the bed to
think. Three weeks wasn't much time. I'd have to see about transferring
credits to the U of M or some other big college in the twin cities. And I'd
have to quit my job and oh yeah, come out to my family and tell them I'm
moving to Minnesota to be with my new 40-year-old lover who, gosh, was just
about eight years younger than Dad. Huh.

Yeah, I could do that by Thursday.

I really hoped they would be okay with it, but you know what? I wouldn't
have much time to get overly weepy about it. I had a big couple weeks ahead
of me. I had to start saying goodbye; I had a lot of friends. And I wanted
a day to spend with Patty. Oh, that would suck, living away from visiting
her regularly. Well, Vin would help me figure that out.

So I hopped off the bed and started heading home, because, man, three weeks
wasn't much time. I immediately read the napkin note he left for me and I
smiled because oh HELL yes did he take my virginity with a vengeance! But I
wasn't going to spend the next three weeks missing him.

I had too much to do.

When I showed up on his doorstep the day after the three weeks ended, he
looked at me and my small U-Haul trailer with yearbooks and clothes and
mementos I pretty much wasn't going to use ever again and it just about
knocked him over. I was mad at him by that point because it sure would have
been nice to chat with him while I was packing things up or while I was
saying goodbye to Patty or, you know, if I wanted to hear his sexy, dirty
voice.

So I was kinda pissed by that point and I wouldn't let him kiss me. I was
totally being a brat. "Why don't we wait three more weeks before we kiss?"
I snarked at him with my arms crossed on his couch. "And then another three
weeks before we take off our shirts?"

That made him a little crazy.

Oh man, that night we fucked and it was instantly in the Top 5.

Definitely.

He was all over me and I was all over him and it was so crazy and raw and
we stayed up all night and then he took me with him to his favorite bench
to watch the sunrise. And I thought, wow, this is weird. I'm watching the
sun come up with the man I'm going to be with the rest of my life. It's
beginning right now.

On the morning after the dawn we were lying in bed, exhausted and a little
sore and my butt had this throbbing sensation that I would come to kind of
think of as regular with Vin. We were going to fall asleep this way with my
head on his hairy chest and sunlight streaming in and me keep trying to
snuggle closer and closer so we could fall asleep in this rocking love.

"You know that you can't just pack up your stuff and move in with someone
like this." Vin said right before drifting off.

"Oh I know." I said, because yeah, it's totally crazy. You can't do crazy
shit like that.

"Good." He said and kissed the top of my head, but it was only a half-kiss
because he was fading fast.

"How did you know," I kinda slurred the words because I was mostly
asleep. "It was me?"

But he knew what I meant.

His voice was fading out and I could tell he was just as asleep as
me. "King Fladimir said...you were coming...for me."

Clearly we were both out of our minds, that rickety bridge between reality
and dreams. But I never asked him that question again, because even though
he was asleep I kind of liked the answer he gave me. A king said I was
coming and so he waited for me.

When we finally got out of bed, we ordered a pizza and unpacked my stuff.

I stayed.

I swear, I'm totally listening for sounds in the garage at the same time
I'm thinking these thoughts but I can't hear anything. Not a thing. A car
drove by once, but that was it.

I collapse. This is exhausting work, this waiting, anticipating, listening.

I wouldn't have liked being a cop. Stupid Malcolm.

We were cautious when we met for the first time, me and Malcolm. Vin was
totally nervous because he wanted me to like Malcolm and he wanted Malcolm
to approve. Malcolm and I were totally polite and I bet he could tell I was
nervous. In fact, I know he could. Because he started doing things to make
me relax, just being cool, and then I knew that he liked me because if he
didn't he wouldn't have made the effort.

I'm breathing heavy and this listening is hard work. I hate that there are
no sounds right now. They're not going to just leave me here, are they?

"His name." says the Darth voice and he's about six or seven feet away.

I was right. He was standing there watching me. Creepy.

"Just tell us his real name. We just want to confirm a few things."

Several smart-ass remarks come to mind, but I know that probably the best
thing to do is let him keep talking and maybe he'll reveal something.

"Or maybe you don't know his real name." Darth suggests. "Maybe he hasn't
told you. Maybe he doesn't love you as much as you think he does."

Oh, now THAT was a low blow.

"You ass." I blurt out. "You should NOT have said that."

He's quiet for a moment.

"He loves me." I tell Darth Vader.

He's walking again, walking in a wide circle around me. I can hear the
stone in his shoe scuffle every four paces or so.

"He juggles bananas for me." I say loud and I know how stupid it
sounds. "Vin knows I think it's hilarious to watch the bananas flip around
like that and so he juggles them, sometimes four of them until they go
flying out of control. He broke a lamp once."

Darth Vader snickers.

But you have to understand how love is in the small things. It's in the
every day. Vin juggles bananas for me. When I was training Romero not to
run off with our shoes, I explained to him how Vin and I loved each other
and how he shouldn't be afraid of us kissing. Vin thought it was crazy but
when I asked him to, he looked Romero in the eyes and said, 'It's all true,
kiddo. Don't be afraid.' And he wasn't ironic, he was doing it serious
because it was important to me. Vin teaches me some of his mojo, which is
cool.

And the night I was sick with food poisoning from some bad shrimp, he sat
next to my side of the bed all night, wide awake and whenever I opened my
eyes he was staring at me with this grief because he couldn't do anything
about it.

That was the first time I saw the grief-boy hiding behind Vin's eyes.

"So he loves you." Says Darth. "Let's find out how much."

He turns away and I hear the walkie talkie go off.

"Where is he now?" says Darth and he's walking away swiftly now because he
probably doesn't want me to hear the answer. "Is he at the gay club?"

I keep telling myself that it's stupid for me to be afraid, it's just
stupid. But that doesn't seem to help any. So I decide to think about our
life together and things we've done. Spirit babies that we made.

Once I told Vin I wanted to see him in a tuxedo, that it would be really
sexy for him to be all dressed up like that.

"Oh really?" he said and he got the naughty smile on his face. I blushed
bright red because I knew I was going to get fucked by my man in a tuxedo.

Four months later, we went to the big HRC fundraiser dinner in Foshay
Tower, this old stone building downtown and it was completely swank. All
the guys were in black tuxedos with bright cummerbunds and bow ties like
they were mating birds trying to impress each other. The women were in
really gorgeous ball gowns and I felt like I was rich. We made friends with
this awesome lesbian couple at our table and we hung out with them after
dinner. We slow danced, me and Vin, and we kissed when we danced and I
thought that it was like a music video or something because it seemed
perfect.

Then he took my hand and half-dragged me out of the ballroom into this
gleaming, polished hallway. And down the hall to a locked room where he
proceeded to pick the lock in about 15 seconds and suddenly we were both
inside.

That's when he attacked me and ravaged me. I was giggling and laughing
because he was so skillful with his hands, all over me at once. It was like
getting pawed by three guys at once. I swear he had one hand on the back of
my head, another along my chin and another stroking my lower back.  And
then my pants were down and he sucked my cock!

Oh boy.

Vin can suck dick. Of course, he had been teasing me all day because he
likes to do that, so I was pretty much hard all evening, having to wear
wearing a super tight jockstrap to keep my dick from boinging out against
my rented pants.

And it didn't take long for him to milk it out of me, all my jism. I came
so hard! I fell forward right on his back and I made this crazy loud, "OH!"
that was like a balloon popping and I was totally exhausted because it had
been like...you know...nine hours of teasing or more.

Vin didn't say anything, he just quickly pulled up my pants and fixed me up
while I swayed in a post-cum drunkenness. I always see colors funny when he
does that.

Then he took my hand and pulled me down the hallway again, our feet
clacking against the polished granite and I guess I was going too slow for
him because he stopped and crouched down which is code for me to jump on,
so I laughed and I did -- I love to ride him piggy back! So Vin jogged us
into the ballroom with me on his back, and people were laughing with us
`cause he was so goofy, it was just me and Vin having a blast.

Then he deposited me on the dance floor and whirled around so suddenly I
was right in his arms and his lips found mine. And his big Vin hand was on
the back of my neck, massaging it tightly - which I always love - and when
I opened my mouth it was flooded with my own sperm. Yeah. He had saved
it. And I kept my eyes open while we kissed because how often does your
super hot Nordic boyfriend in a tuxedo push sperm into your mouth while
there's 200 elegant people slow dancing next to you?

I just about passed out.

Later, Vin fucked me on the 27th floor's outdoor observatory overlooking
the Minneapolis. Yeah, that was locked too, but Vin managed to pick that
one as well. One of his handy skills leftover from his Chicago years.

He chased me around the windy stone deck until I relented and then he
picked the side with the most city visible and without words he fucked me
against the side of the building so I could see the lights of downtown
Minneapolis with him in the foreground in his classic black-tie tuxedo,
grunting and staring me down.

That was Tuxedo Night.

Sometimes, I name them, the special nights.

I told Kevin about that night and how it was one of the greatest nights of
my life so far.

Kevin listened carefully throughout the whole story and when it was done,
he said, "I think Vin might have a rooftop fetish."



It helps to think of these nights, it gives me strength. So while Darth was
on the walkie talkie I thought of Vin in a tuxedo, my very own James Bond
with a hard pecker.

"Well, kid," says Darth from about two car lengths away. His dark words are
echoing all over the place. "He knows you were there, at the club. He found
your car in the parking lot 'cause my dumb-ass buddy didn't slam your trunk
shut. So your pal, `Vin' knows something is up."

He's walking towards me again.

"He's not going to do something stupid, is he? We know he's stupid, but not
THAT kind of stupid, is he kid?"

I won't answer. You don't get to talk crap about Vin.

"Actually, this might be good." Says Darth. "If he comes here. This could
be good. Because we're old friends from Chicago. Well, we think so at
least. But he didn't go by Vin back then, so we're not 100% sure. And we'd
like to say hello, you know, as old friends who knew each other once."

I'm listening for more voices in the room, but I'm not hearing any.

What happened to Gator?

"I wonder," says Darth, and now he's right next to me again, and I can feel
the heat from his hand on my balls again.

HOLY SHIT!

"I wonder if we should wait and say hello to Vin ourselves...or just leave
him a token of our esteem. To let him know, you know, that we were here. Do
you think he'll come over here, kid? Think to look for you in his own
garage? Or will you get found by the first ex-con to arrive in the
morning?"

That makes me fight. I start straining and pushing against the duct tape
and I don't care if I fall off the hydraulic lift because I don't want to
spend all night here, lying on a plank waiting for Dirk or Thomas to show
up in the morning, come in and find me hoarse from yelling Vin's name.

But suddenly, there are two voices quietly talking across the room. I stop
fighting. My head jerks up because I didn't hear anybody even come in! Have
they been there the whole time? HOLY SHIT! Who else is seeing me naked and
tied up? HOLY SHIT!

Did they watch Gator fuck my mouth and cum on my face? Oh my god, I didn't
even think about an actual audience to that, with me spitting cum out of my
lips and it drooling into the work area below me.

"Shut up." Darth snaps in the direction of the voices. "I told you guys to
keep your fuckin' mouths shut. Not for you guys to decide who goes first."

HOLY SHIT!

The talking has stopped but that hasn't apparently made Darth happy because
I can hear him take off and jog over in that direction. The clicking under
his one shoe makes a sound that lets me know he's moving quickly.

Oh man...I can't take much more of this. I can't take this tension and all
this stuff.

So I think of the first spirit baby we named, me and Vin.

It was Fried Chicken night.

Vin got it into his head that he wanted to make us fried chicken even
though he hadn't made it for years and years, but he scrunched up his face
and studied the Betty Crocker cookbook and it seemed easy enough, while I
teased him and made us a blueberry pie for dessert. I totally kick ass at
making pies now, I'm so good at it.

Vin loves pie.

So he had to make the whole batter from scratch because once he gets it
into his head to do a thing, he does it all the way, and he burned himself
on the oil in the pan and I had to coax him to put his burned thumb and
index finger in a cup of ice because he wouldn't stop fiddling with the
chicken, which was awful by the way, because he thought baking powder and
baking soda were the same thing. Or something like that - it was
horrible. I tried to eat a piece to make him feel better, but even he kept
spitting it out and then we just started laughing our asses off. Oh, and he
burned the chicken while trying to mash the potatoes at the same time.

We both had extra helpings of pie.

Normally, though, he's a pretty good cook.

After dinner I studied against him on the couch and Vin watched Law & Order
when he should have been doing his accounting books for the garage (which I
reminded him of that and he grunted) and later Malcolm called and then
Fredi called and I answered email from my Mom and my older brother. Before
bed, we walked the dogs together and we held hands, which when I first
moved to Minneapolis I didn't know you could do in the Midwest, but yeah,
you can.

All in all, it was a pretty unremarkable night.

In bed, I teased him about the chicken and I kissed his blistering thumb.

(I still can't hear anything but Darth chewing out the other two guys.)

And the giggling turned to sexy talk and pretty soon I was on my back and
my legs were wrapped around my man's waist and his chubby dick was inside
me, oh was he inside me and we both smelled like chicken because the whole
house did.

And he stared at me and I stared back at him and suddenly the whole night
was so ... so ordinary but every single detail was important and sparking
alive and I was trying to file them all in my head. In case some day, I
ever needed to remember how good life could be.

"This is our life." Said Vin.

I started to cry because he was right, this is us, this is our life and I
was so happy he found me and I found him and he kept humping me with these
slow, luxurious strokes, stroking my insides and this was our life, with
dirty dishes in the sink and the nasty burned chicken stinking up our
kitchen.

When I stopped crying, which was only a little bit anyway, I said to him,
"Do you ever wish we could make a baby, you and me?"

Vin frowned at me as if he didn't understand.

"A baby." I repeated.

He kept frowning at me, all puzzled, and never stopped his dick from
slow-fucking me. "But we do. Every time."

I twisted his ear, which I do sometimes.

"Oh, you mean a physical baby." He said, pretending to get me at
last. "No. Don't want one of those. Too much poopy."

I laughed. "What kind of baby were you talking about?"

"Spirit babies, of course." He whispered and kissed my lips.

He pulled me up so that his legs could slide under me and with some of his
skillful maneuvering and a few extra bounces, nudged his dick into me ever
deeper. By then I was sitting in his lap and his arms wrapped around my
back, all the support that I ever need.

I gasped when he got a little deeper and so he bounced on his butt to the
side of the bed so that his dick got deeper into me, and he could see my
face surprised over and over.

"Spirit babies," Vin continued once he was positioned on the side so he
could use his powerful legs to rock me back and forth, "are made by two men
in love."

I was still reeling a little bit from the bouncing across the bed so I
couldn't ask him to go on. But he did.

"We create this thing out of nothing, this love of ours." He started
rasping his voice and he knows it makes me crazy. I love his voice.

"It's love," He drawled slowly," that brings it alive, this baby, this
force of nature and it travels through me, shoots right out of my purple
cock head when it spurts into you and it mingles inside you, swimming
around, a million possible spirit babies until it marinates inside you
Marky, and it's time to be born."

I squirmed and groaned which made my insides tighten around his dick, my
man's cock, and this is Vin at his best, loving me like this, making me his
with his sticky dick, making my insides wet and making a home for himself.

"It's love..." he whispered and kissed my neck, "...and when it's ready,
our spirit baby rises out of you and flies to where it's needed the most."

"Where?" I gasped because the story and the sex are always intertwined for
me when he does this, he makes sex the story and the story is the sex.

"Well, last week we made a gay soul for a baby getting born in
Philadelphia."

I grabbed his neck and pulled myself into him, my Vin because I didn't want
him to see me cry again so soon.

"And then there was a little gay baby we made in Miami for a couple that
thought they were infertile. We did that one and next week they're going to
be joyful when they find out she's pregnant. Huh. I wonder how many gay
souls we made, flying to pregnant parents around the world."

I started to lap his neck in these short little strokes because I have
learned a few things about what turns him on as well. He's not the only one
good at seduction in our house.

"And sometimes," he groaned, "our spirit babies go to hospital rooms to sit
with anguished people waiting for news from the surgery. Last July in the
back yard we made a spirit baby that drew a stray cat to this old Hispanic
guy in Portland Oregon who needed something to love."

I loved my man all over again for the first time, the Beatles song playing,
and the color with no name. He was whispering his love into my ear while
tipping us both physically closer to the explosion. I did not think I could
possibly love him more.

"Where do you suppose," he said slowly, "tonight's spirit baby will go?"

I didn't answer him because I thought it was, you know, rhetorical. But he
jabbed me a little harder with his dick and I bounced up against his chest
and gasped and then I knew he wanted me to answer.

"OH." I said a second time. "Atlanta."

It just totally came out.

"Why? What for?"

"There's a...guy and he's 24. And he's never been with a man before. And
he's scared."

"What's his name?" asked Vin and he starts stroking my dick real lightly
because he's getting closer and he wants me to nut real close to when he
does.

"Darrell." I answered because it seemed like the truth. "And he's nervous
about meeting someone he chatted with online."

"Go on." Said Vin and I am totally feeling his cock get harder.

When Vin gets close to shooting sometimes, he starts slowing down because
he wants me to feel the first blast, so he slows his cock down so the only
motion for a split second is that purple head of his quivering, just a
little and he has trained my butt to notice these things, these subtle
changes, and he trained me to feel him, to know when it's going to explode.

"And our spirit baby is the courage he needs to get out of his car and go
into the coffee house."

"Yesssss..." Vin whispered.

He gripped my neck even tighter. Then he juiced me.

Vin came up my butt, his fat quivering head pissing out all of his sperm
babies inside me and he put just enough pressure on my hard dick that I
came too but he squeezed my dick head tightly so that it shot harder
through me, more forcefully and when I opened my mouth to cry out, he used
his thick calloused hand to push me into him, so his big tongue was fucking
my mouth while his penis kept spitting its goop inside me. I had to
concentrate real hard to keep sucking his tongue and milking his boner
because I was almost overwhelmed by the smell of chicken and sex and the
smell of our bed and his taste and this was a Wednesday, just a Wednesday
night.

Who would have thought after a night like Fried Chicken Night that that
there could be trouble between us?



Uh oh. I let my guard drop remembering that night. Now my penis is hard and
pointing straight down and I hope they can't see it and think that it's
from being tied up like this, naked in Vin's garage while they're
watching. I want to explain that it's from remembering Fried Chicken Night.

Darth's voice is quiet and so are the other voices and he's still far away,
so I have a minute or two to make myself get soft. I have to get soft.

So I think about Vin trying to be all sexy one night and suggesting that I
may want to sleep with other guys and maybe that would be hot. Wouldn't I
like that?

But it wasn't hot, not to me.

And his teasing about it wasn't sexy, there was something wrong with the
way he was saying it. The tone was off.

Every now and then when we were out doing one of his practice exercises in
public, watching people, studying them, he would remind me to find the
truth and not what was true. We would go to the mall or a park and guess
which people were in love and which ones were close to breaking up. Or who
had given up in life, or who was excited to be alive. Vin taught me how to
pay attention to the small things, the jerks of the head and the way hands
moved, stuff I already sort of half knew unconsciously. But it was awesome
to understand how I knew things that I already knew - why I instantly liked
someone or felt that someone was dangerous.

He said that this is how Malcolm trained him. They would go hang out in a
bar in Chicago and watch.

And so it wasn't hard for me to figure out that Vin didn't think it was
'hot' for me to sleep with someone else. If he DID think it was hot...I
dunno, maybe I would consider it. I might have even done it if it really
turned him on, even if I didn't really want it for myself.  But he didn't
think it was sexy. His voice had this overly casual tone, this subtle worry
that was buried three layers deep.

A few months later, he laughingly suggested I should sleep with Kevin. Oh
man, did I get mad.

I wouldn't talk to him for hours and he kept staring at me with questions
in his eyes.

How could he not know? How could he not understand?

Fried Chicken Night! Tuxedo Night! The October Campout! Second Christmas
Eve! The B- Test Night! Why couldn't he understand how much I am his and
that he is mine? Kevin is totally hot and he's got like a super huge dick,
but he's not Vin!

And after a few hours of my glaring at him, Vin seemed to calm down and he
said he was sorry.

I felt better because I thought it was settled. But seconds later when I
sat in his lap with my arms around his neck, I could hear his heart beating
faster and I knew.

Vin was afraid. And Vin does not like to be afraid.



That's when I began to understand that the grief-boy I had seen in his
eyes.

`You'll leave me too, right? Eventually?' his heart would pound against
mine. I could hear it only a few nights a year - mostly around his birthday
- when he thought I was asleep and he had this grief, this lonely kind of
feeling go racing through him and he bled his love like a kid clutching his
head even though it's his shins that got banged up.

And those lonely nights when Vin bled his love, I cupped his balls and
nuzzled into him, under his chin and while I pretended to sleep. My heart
beat stronger for him on those nights because that's what he needed. And
silently I would say, 'Come back to me.'



"Hey." Darth whispers into my ear and I SCREAM in response.

I didn't hear him come over!

There's a slight metallic pinging and bouncing on the floor near me.

"I had a screw stuck to the bottom of my shoe." Darth says to me.

I'm panting and my heart is pounding! HOLY FUCKING SHIT!

"Ever had something inside you that you didn't want there?" Darth says
softly.

There is no kindness in his voice! NO KINDNESS!

I scream again as loud as I can, scream out, "VIIIIIIIIIIIIIN!"

Darth chuckles. "He's still a bit far to hear you. But maybe he's on his
way. Maybe."

"He called out the calvary, I'll give you that, kid. There's a real pretty
boy who apparently joined him in the St. Paul parking lot. And Pretty Boy
brought a friend. Gosh, do you think they're gonna save you?"

I hate this voice.

"It's like the gay Hardy Boys out there, looking for clues."

"But thing is," he continues. "this wasn't supposed to be that big a
deal. We just wanted to deliver a business proposition to Vin. Or, you
know, whoever he thinks he is now."

I can't breathe anymore. He got so fucking close and I didn't even know it!

I need to think about Malcolm to help me calm down! What would Malcolm d---

HOLY SHIT HIS HAND IS ON MY LEG!

"So we were thinking that it might be a good thing if we did business
again. Just like the old days."

"Get your FUCKING HAND OFF ME!" I cry out and I totally mean it.

Darth's hand runs up my leg right to my butt.

"It's weird to think of Vin tapping this ass every night." He says
casually. "We didn't know Vin was a butt pirate back then. It's cool,
buddy. Queers are cool. We just didn't know. Huh."

"FUCK YOU!" I scream and I am getting close to losing it.

"So we have a message for Vin. We were hoping you could deliver it."

I am panting heavy because there's really nothing left to do. I can do
this. I can do this.

"We think it's a waste of resources, that he's not being smart, just using
his garages to just fix up cars."

Darth's hand is still on my ass and I want him to move it. But if I ask him
or yell at him, he won't. So I just grit my teeth and remember that half of
me is built up by Vin's love and that I can handle anything.

"Think of how much money we could make. All of us." Darth says softly. "And
it's perfect. He's got a successful business, so he doesn't actually NEED
more money, 'cause when a mechanic's shop is not making money, that's a big
red flag to cops. And he's got all these ex-cons working here already, so
his employees already have contacts and know how to play stupid if Vin were
to start a side business."

No. Not drugs.

Vin won't let that happen. Not after he has worked so hard to make them
kings. Or make them remember they're kings. No way. Five of his mechanics,
no six, have king names. He said they had to `endure trials' to get theirs
back; to earn back the name, the name that was theirs but forgotten.

Kevin has one. Malcolm has one. Greg does and so does Joel, the mechanic
who quit and moved to Seattle because when he remembered his king name, he
also remembered that he loved the ocean.

Kevin's Roger has his king name.

A year or more ago, Roger's Mom died of long-time cancer, and they were
close, so Roger took it hard. Like give-up kinda hard. After three full
months of Roger just limping through his life, Vin took Roger out for a
night, just the two of them.

Kevin and I waited up all night.

It's cool - we all knew it wasn't sexual, like it was with Kevin. But we
were worried about Roger and Kevin didn't want to be alone. And even though
we knew they weren't coming home that night, I kept whispering to Vin to
come back. I can't help it; that's what my heart does.

When they came home around noon the next day, Roger had a king name. Roger
was wearing a different shirt, an expensive white one with shiny silver
stripes and Roger looked exhausted, but better than the horrible gray that
we had all watched nervously for months.

After Roger, I was worried because Vin still hadn't told me my king
name. So I asked him.

"I don't know it." He said and he seemed genuinely surprised. "I can't tell
yet. I don't know why."

I was totally sad by this news because maybe -- maybe he didn't think of me
as a king.

"That's not it." He said to me, reading my thoughts or maybe just reading
my face.

He put his thumb on my lower lip and strummed it a little while he looked
at me with love.

"Not knowing your king name can't stop you from being a king. The name
doesn't make it true."

He looked at me to make sure I understood.

"A name doesn't define you or make you something you're not. The name is
true but not the truth, Mark."

Yeah, okay. I figured he was right. But I wish he knew what mine was. I
just wish he knew.

"I'll tell you your king name when it gets clear to me. I promise."

I nodded. I know he will. I know.



"Fine." I say through gritted teeth. "I'll tell Vin your message."

"Oh no." says Darth, creaking into the metal chair near me. "No, no...that
wasn't the message we wanted you to deliver. Those were just the words."

There's silence for a moment as I listen for further instructions but Darth
doesn't have any.

I hear the chair creak as he gets up and I guess he's walking away because
there's this little air current that sends chills across my thighs and I
get goose bumps but I can't hear him walking any more!

Then the outside door clatters open, the metal door in front. He went
outside. Gator was outside too from the far door. Maybe they are conferring
right now.

I can't hear the other guys talking low but I didn't hear them leave
either. Are they there? Are they gone?

I don't care. I have to make the most of this. Malcolm would.

So I start fighting this, struggling. If I can get my wrists free, I can
take off the blindfold and I can figure out how to get off these planks
without breaking my neck.

That's when the walkie talkie goes off. HOLY SHIT!

"You there?" says a voice? "Yo. Jim?"

I stop struggling. Listen!

"He's on the move. Vin's on the move. (pause) You guys hear that?"

I start fighting again, fighting harder.

I can beat this. I can beat this.

I am a king, even if he doesn't know my name yet.

"Guys? What the fuck?" says the voice again. "Fucking answer me!"

Come back to me, Vin! Come back!

Then, the far door opens.

I perk up.

After two loud clacks of those damn alligator boots, I know who it is.

He's coming towards me.

Goddam it, Malcolm! Why wouldn't you tell me?

I insisted that we throw a party for Malcolm when he visited last summer
because I wanted our friends to meet Vin's family. It was totally fun and
Vin got a little drunk and so did I. The mechanics were playing drinking
games in the back yard and throwing a football at each other's crotches.

I was hanging out with Malcolm on the screened porch, and I was drunk
enough to ask him why Vin never talked to me about Chicago.

Malcolm turned it around and asked me why I thought Vin never brought it
up.

"Because he's ashamed." I said a little loudly.

"True." said Malcolm and he nodded at me in a serious way.

"And he thinks it will make me love him less."

"True." said Malcolm.

"And because he's an idiot."

I was a little drunk you know.

"True." said Malcolm and he smiled.

Gator's footsteps are getting closer. He's walking slow and loudly. He
wants me to hear him.

"So what are you going to do about that?" asked Malcolm just as another
mechanic got nailed in the nuts. There was laughing and hooting and Fredi
cheered. She has pretty good aim.

"Wait." I blurted out. "Until he tells me. When he's finally ready."

Malcolm looked at me seriously, very seriously. "He loves you."

"I know." I said and that's all that we said about that.

But there was a lesson there from Malcolm, which was to trust the love, to
trust it all the way, even when it was super hard to trust. To trust the
Fried Chicken Nights.

Malcolm is pretty smart that way.

Gator is standing in front of me and I am shaking.

I can't help it.

I am being strong, Malcolm. I'm being strong.

I expected, I don't know...to get whipped or something, but Gator sits down
heavily in the metal chair. There's a fumbling sound, a whooooooshing, and
then a noise on the floor near my head that totally startles me, like soft
wood chucked. It's on the floor under my head, the ker-thunking of ... of a
boot. Hitting the floor.

HOLY SHIT!

COME BACK, VIN! COME BACK TO ME!

Then the other boot hits the floor!

Then the worst sound of all, which is Gator unzipping his pants. As his
pants quietly drop to the floor there's a dim plink of a belt buckle on the
cement garage floor.

HOLY SHIT!

"I'm the message." He hisses at me.

NO!

It's not him!

It's not HIM!

HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLYSHITHOLY --

This can't happen. It can't.

He pulls apart my butt cheeks and he hocks a big goober, right at my butt,
right on it! And his thumb traces the liquid around my -

"NNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" I scream as loud as I can.

But that thumb is back there and it's poking around my anus and I'm about
to get fucked by someone other than Him.

It's not Vin! It's not Vin!

And that's when I screech it out, screaming out his name, His name at the
top of my lungs, yelling his name as loud as I can.

His real name.

The name he almost never uses.


***

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