Date: Sat, 21 May 2016 01:32:37 +0000 (UTC)
From: hankbrookscc@comcast.net
Subject: The Manitenance Man   Short Story

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			    The Maintenance Man


				 Part One


I came to Los Angeles with the same dreams, hopes and aspirations, as
thousands had come before me.  Everyone at home thought that I was crazy to
buck the odds.  My dad was the worst.  He was ready to disown me for
leaving home.  He was the owner and proprietor of a large hardware store in
our blue collar town, and it did very well.  He wanted me to take it over,
so he could retire, and I would be financially sound.

I was really tempted, but I am gay, and I needed to get away to a place
where I didn't have to hide my sexuality.  What better place than
Hollywood, CA?  I really thought I had an edge on all the other aspiring
actors, who went there in vain; and I could really make it in Tinsel Town.
This is no time to be humble.  I am very talented.  I can sing, dance, and
act.  I starred in almost every high school musical during my four-year
gig.  Well, actually, I only had second lead in my freshman year.  I played
Lt. Cable in South Pacific.

Being even less humble, I want to tell you that I am one good looking dude.
I stand six feet, two inches tall.  I work out at a local gym at least four
evenings a week, and I am very toned and muscular.  My hair is a dark
blond, my eyes are hazel, and I have a small, rather pugged nose.  That
would make me look like a kid, but I have a strong, square chin with a
cleft, which more than offsets the youthful look.  And let me not forget my
greatest feature.  I have a cute dimple in each cheek.  They only pop out,
or maybe I should say cave in, when I smile, so I smile a lot.

I am only going to describe my other assets because I am gay, and you are
probably interested.  Not only do I believe that I can make it in
Hollywood, but I don't think I'll have problems in the sex department,
either.  Hopefully, one day, I want to make it in the love department also,
but not yet.  I have lots of time, and I want to have lots of sex before I
say I do.  Here goes: My cock is big for my height.  I am circumcised, and
my flaccid cock is a good six inches long.  It is also wider around than
the average, and it grows to eight and a half inches when I'm aroused.
Unfortunately, thus far, I have only been aroused when I was whacking off
in the bathroom.  I hope to remedy all that in Hollywood.

I had looked up YMCA facilities on line, and I booked a room, in advance,
in West Hollywood on Schrader Boulevard.  I hoped to find a job and an
apartment quickly, so that I could make my stay at the Y, a short one.

I even had an agent.  I had sent a head shot to several agents, who were
also listed on line.  Every one of them wrote back that they wanted to
represent me.  I chose one based on the professionalism and appearance of
his website.  I know that's not smart, but I had no other yard stick.

I lost my virginity my very first night at the Y, while I was taking a
shower.  There were four stalls available, but I was alone.  Half way
through my shower, a nice looking man came into the room.  He must have
been somewhere between sixty-five and seventy years old, I reckoned.  We
nodded at each other, and he began to soap himself up.  All of a sudden, he
said to me, "Wanna have some fun?"  I was so surprised, I remained mute.
He took my silence as a yes, and he walked over to me.  He fell to his
knees and proceeded to give me a blow job.  He was certainly an expert, and
I unloaded into his mouth rather quickly.

He stood up and resumed showering.  "Would you like me to do that to you?"
I asked.  I had dreamed of sucking cock all my life, and his age did not
bother me at all.

"No thanks," he said.  "I'm seventy-five years old.  I don't get hard
anymore, and since I had my prostate removed, I don't ejaculate any more,
either.  It was my pleasure to service you."  He wrapped a towel around
himself and left.  I enjoyed the experience, but it was far from the first
time rapture I had fantasized all my life.  Well, it was a start.

 After a few days, I zeroed in on the neighborhood I wanted to live in, and
started both my job and my apartment hunting.  The job was easier, and that
surprised me.  With my background and knowledge of tools, I got a job as a
retail clerk at a Home Depot.  It was in a neighborhood I was familiar
with; very blue collar.  The store was a busy one, and far from the YMCA I
was staying at.  Thank God, my dad gave me a present when I left home, a
two-year-old Chevy Malibu.

Now that I had a steady income, the apartment hunting became easier.  I
expanded my search to include apartments, which were two to three hundred
dollars a month more than I initially looked for.  I searched on line, of
course.  That was the modern way.  I didn't rush.  The Y was comfortable
and cheap enough.

 During my first week in L.A. I got my courage up, and visited a gay bar
not too far from the Y.  I was hit on several times, but don't ask me why,
I politely refused.  In spite of that, I had a very sociable evening, and I
couldn't figure out why I didn't allow myself to connect with anyone.  I
reckoned that my problem might be that I was too nervous, and I vowed to be
braver in the future.  In fact, the next night, a guy who had hit on me the
night before, hit on me again.

"Is there something wrong with me?" he asked.

 "Hell no.  You're very handsome," I smiled at him.  "It's just that I'm a
virgin and I'm scared."

 "Please," he pleaded, "come home with me, and I'll give you a premiere
you'll never forget."

The guy, whose name I don't remember (maybe I never got it), taught me to
suck, rim and fuck that night.  He was good, and I was grateful.  I thanked
him and started to dress.

 "Will we see each other again?" he asked hopefully.

 "Sure," I said, and left.  The next night I went to a different bar in
order not to run into him again.  In fact, I made the rounds, and scored
every night, but I wasn't going to allow myself to get involved just yet.

At one of the bars, I picked up a gay newspaper.  It was free.  I looked at
it when I got back to my room, and was excited to find a section with
apartments for rent.  Most of them were in West Hollywood.  I figured this
would be ideal.  I called the one I thought looked most interesting, but it
was already rented.  I called my second choice, and the place was still
available.  It was a furnished, one-bedroom apartment in a sixplex.  A very
young voice said to me that I could come over early the following morning
to see the apartment.

"I own the building," he said.  "I do all the maintenance.  I'm also the
super, so I'm always in the building somewhere.  When you get here, knock
on apartment 1A.  The available apartment is 1B, across the hall from me.
There are two apartments on each floor, six altogether."

I couldn't wait to see the man who went with that sexy voice.  I knocked on
his door, and I wasn't disappointed.  Manuel (Manny) Fuego was a Latin God.
He was stunningly handsome, but very unkempt.  His jeans were torn and
dirty and his face was smudged.  I wondered why he had advertised in the
gay press.  This guy looked as straight as a steel rod, as far as I was
concerned.  He wiped his hands on a dirty towel, and stuck it out for me to
shake.

 "Nice to meet you Mr. Davis," he said.  I was so young I had hardly ever
been called Mr. by anyone.

 "Please," I said, "call me Clark."  My unthinking parents had named me
Clarence, after one of my great-grandfathers.  I hated that name, and I
certainly didn't look like a "Clarence."  I became Clark, the minute I
crossed the city line.

 Manny showed me the apartment, and I fell in love with it.  I never
expected the furniture to be so new, and in such good condition.  The
kitchen cabinets were loaded with pots, pans, and dishes.  The linen closet
was stacked.  The place was move-in ready, and I didn't have to buy a
thing, except food.  I signed a one-year lease, and gave Manny first
month's rent and a security deposit.

That evening, I loaded my car with my stuff, checked out of the Y, and
occupied my first apartment.  I was just hanging away the last of my
belongings, when I heard a knock at my door.  I opened it and there stood
Manny.  He was fresh showered, I could tell.  His clothes were clean and
skimpy; jeans, a tank top, and sandals.  From the bulge in his tight
fitting jeans, I was sure that he was going commando.  He had two beers in
his hand.

"I hope you don't mind," he said.  "I came over to initiate your
apartment."  He held up the two beers to symbolize the baptism.

 "Sure," I said.  "Come right in."

We sat on the sofa and Manny unscrewed the bottle caps.  "Cheers," he said,
and he took a sip.

"Do you mind having some company tonight.  Let's get to know each other,"

I raised my bottle to let him know that it was all right with me.  We
chatted a little, but when we both finished our beers, he left.

The apartment may have looked perfect, but unfortunately it had a lot of
plumbing and a few electrical problems.  I had leaky faucets, a toilet that
only flushed occasionally, and light switches which needed changing.  Every
time I discovered a new problem, I called Manny, and he rushed right over
to fix it.

Each time he came over, we would have a beer, and chat.  After a while we
just visited each other in the evening, when we were both free, without the
need for repairs.  We hung out together more and more, and we became really
good friends.

Let me tell you what was happening to me after I moved into my new
apartment.  My agent was terrific.  He got me a small role, practically a
walk-on, in a movie.  I guess I got noticed, because the casting director
tested me for second lead in a romantic comedy.  He asked me to come over
to his house to discuss the possibility of my getting the role.  When I got
there, I was quickly seduced (quite readily).  He kept telling me how
beautiful my cock was, and I told him the same thing about his cock.  I got
the part.

The main character in the movie was a suave city boy, always on the prowl.
My character was his cousin who came to visit him.  The cousin was
seemingly a naïve country bumpkin, but he actually taught the main
character a thing or two.  I didn't arrive until half way through the
movie, but my part was pretty meaty after that.

By that time, I had quit Home Depot.  I was auditioning for several more
films, and I seemed to be wanted.  I knew that my career was moving
forward.  Also I could now afford a real apartment, complete with my own
furniture.  I told Manny that I would be moving out when my lease was up in
just a few weeks.  His face clouded over, and he looked so unhappy.

 "Don't be sad," I told him.  "We'll still be friends."  That did not make
him feel any better.  He ran from my apartment.

When the day came for my departure, I was able to load all my personal
stuff in my car.  Nothing in the apartment belonged to me.  I was taking a
last look around to make sure that I had not missed anything, when Manny
came in without knocking.  He was holding two bottles of beer.

"We started with a beer," he said sadly.  "Let's close it with a beer."

We sat on the sofa and began to drink.  "I'm going to miss you," Manny said
forlornly.

 "Nonsense.  We'll still be friends."

 "Yeah, but we'll have to make appointments.  We won't be dropping in on
each other like we do now."

He was right of course, and I had nothing more to say, so I just finished
my beer quickly.  The atmosphere was very awkward, and I wanted to leave as
soon as possible.

 "Don't I get a farewell hug?" Manny asked.  He stood up and opened his
arms for me.  I took him up on his offer, and suddenly this brawny guy
wrapped his arms around me.  I did the same to him.  When I thought it was
enough, I tried to disengage myself, but Manny only held me closer.  I felt
his cock pushing against me.  It was very hard.

 "What are you doing?" I asked.  He didn't answer.  He just held me closer,
and he put his cheek against mine.  He was crying.

 "Don't you know how much I love you?" he asked.

I was stunned.  Sure, we were friends, maybe even best friends, but I had
never thought in terms of love.  Manny placed his lips on mine and started
to kiss me.  It felt so good.  There was very little kissing during my
frequent one night stands.  I began to kiss him back.  I was feeling
pleasures I had never experienced before.

We kissed harder and harder.  We were both dry humping each other, and we
both came in our pants.  After we came, we both cried.  "I love you too," I
whispered in his ear.

Our tears turned to laughter.  "I can't go home now," I said, "until you
lend me a pair of pants."

"You are home," Manny said.  "Move into my apartment."

"I can't," I whimpered.  "I signed a nine-month lease.  I didn't want to go
too far out in time, unless my acting career really took off."

 "Then I'll move in with you, and rent out my apartment.  I'll come here
every day to do my duties, just as if I had a regular job."

"I don't know if that will work or not, but let's give it a try."  I smiled
at Manny, and we resumed hugging ourselves really hard.  The cum in my
pants was really uncomfortable.  I suggested we wash up and change.

"And after that," Manny asked.  "Your place or mine?"

 "We're here," I cried lustfully.  Make love with me on the floor, on the
sofa, in the bed.  I don't care where.  Just do it."

The first thing we did was remove our wet pants, and we were naked in a
flash.  Then Manny handed me a pleasant surprise.  He fell to his knees and
started slurping up what cum remained on my pubic area.  When he had
swallowed every last drop, he began to suck my cock.  I had been sucked
many times before, but never by the man I loved.  The electricity spreading
through my body was heating me up from head to toe, but I was shivering at
the same time.  I tried to stop myself from cumming.  I thought it would be
easy.  After all, I had just cum moments ago.  I was wrong.  I couldn't
stop my orgasm from happening.  I came in Manny's mouth, and he swallowed
all of it.

 After I came, we continued our marathon hugging and kissing session.
After I felt that I was sufficiently recovered from two back to back
orgasms, I started to move down to do the same to Manny, but he stopped me.

 "Please," he begged, "let me fuck you"

 "Yes," I said, "of course."

 "We'll have to go to my place for some lube," he said.  I noticed he
didn't mention anything about condoms, and I could care less.  The moment I
realized that I didn't care if he entered me bareback, I realized how much
I really did love him.  I couldn't imagine why it took me so long to
realize it.

We ran naked across the hall to Manny's apartment.  He laid me gently on
his bed, and got a jar of Vaseline from his bathroom.  "Lie on your back,"
he instructed me.

I thought he would grease up my ass and his cock, and go for it, but I was
wrong again.  Manny began to rim me until I was writhing and whimpering in
ecstasy.  Only then did he grease my ass (over greased it, I thought), and
he did not neglect his cock either.  His cock was magnificent.  It wasn't
as long as mine, and it wasn't cut, but as wide as I was, he was wider.  I
shuddered when I saw it, but I would not stop him from entering me.  No
wonder he had used so much Vaseline.

We were so greased up, he entered me rather easily.  I wrapped my legs
around his waist, and pulled him in even further.  Neither of us had made a
move, but Manny yelled out, "Fuck, I'm cumming."  Only then did he start to
pump, and pump hard.  When I felt his seed wending its way up my gut, I
cried out with joy.

 Manny lay on top of me.  He was so still I had to listen hard to make sure
that he was still breathing.  At last, he whispered, "I love you, Clark."

The next day, Manny loaded his personal stuff into his car and moved into
my new apartment with me.  He left his old apartment furnished, and rented
it out that way in less than a week.  He posted a notice in the front
lobby.

       Tenants: If you have an emergency, and need to reach me, my
telephone number is 302-555-6262.  If it is not an emergency, I will be in
the building from 9 to 5 on Mondays to Fridays, to take care of ALL your
maintenance needs.  Manuel Fuego.

 Manny brought out the man in me.  We made love every night, and we both
came every night.  Sometimes I even came twice in one night.  I didn't know
that I had it in me, and he said the same.

The night I got the lead in a romantic comedy, we celebrated with sex.
Manny gave me a treat (or so he thought).  He did all the work, as I lay
passive.  I did what he asked to keep him happy, but the truth is that I am
happiest, when I am doing the work, and making him happy.

I hope he knows that.


				 Part Two

			     (Two Years Later)


My name is Manny Fuego.  I own a six-unit apartment building in West
Hollywood.  I do all the repairs and maintenance myself, so the rents
support me comfortably.  None of the apartments are ever empty for more
than a week.  Most of the tenants are gay men, who find the location of the
building to be ideal for them.

I, myself, am gay.  My partner, Clark, and I are madly in love.  I know in
my heart that will never change.  We will always love each other.  I
sincerely believe that we are soulmates.  Clark is a great actor, and he
has become a movie idol.  His good looks, and exceptional talent, have
given him a meteoric rise in the film industry.  The problem is that Clark
believed that he must remain in the closet to preserve his career.  I named
off a string of famous actors, who were out and proud, but I couldn't
change his mind.

As a result, I never go anywhere with him.  He has to make many public
appearances, and I have to remain out of sight.  He even attended The
Academy Awards ceremony, with a beautiful young starlet on his arm.  I
watched on television as he was interviewed entering the theater, and my
heart was broken.  It got worse for me, when a famous actor walked The Red
Carpet, with his husband.

On the rare nights when he was home, we made love slowly and passionately.
We assured each other how deeply we loved one another.  Unfortunately, he
was rarely home.

 There were times when he left me to do location shots outside of the
L.A. area.  Those times were particularly sad for me.  I thought about
visiting any of the number of gay bars in West Hollywood, but I couldn't
bear the thought of cheating on Clark.  I couldn't even imagine being
intimate with anyone else.  Did Clark cheat on me?  God knows, he had
plenty of opportunities.  I asked him once, point blank, if he ever cheated
on location.  He started to cry.

 "Never, never," he said.  "I love you too much."  I wanted to believe him.

 Finally, I confronted him.  "We can't go on like this," I said.  He opened
his mouth to speak, and I told him not to say anything until I was
finished.  He closed his mouth, and looked at me fearfully.

"I don't know if you are aware or not, but you have completely shut me out
of your life.  I can't go on like this.  I know that most of the parties
and events you attend are obligatory, but there are many I could go with
you, if you would come out of the closet.  I'm afraid this is an ultimatum,
Clark.  I'm tired of sitting home alone almost every night of the week.
One of my apartments is becoming available at the end of the month, and I'm
going to move back.  I should say, I'm going to move back home. It's not
like we have a home together here."

 Clark stared at me.  His eyes were disbelieving what I said.  Suddenly he
jumped up and tried to embrace me.  He started to scream, "Please don't
leave me.  I'll die if you do.  Stay!  Give me time to work it out.  I'll
talk to my agent about it.  He'll be able to advise me."

"Why not just ask the press to attend our wedding."

"No, I need time to think.  I believe I should come out gradually; a hint,
here and there; you going places with me.  When the time is right, and
someone asks me point blank, I'll come out."

"How much time is time to work it out?" I asked snidely.

"I don't know," he whimpered.  "I promise it won't be long.  Just don't
leave me.  Make love to me," Clark said, and he started to strip right in
the living room.  Even though it is difficult to live with Clark, I was
easily seduced into an evening of impassioned love making.  We both came
more than once, in our mouths and in our asses.  Every time one of us came,
he yelled, "I love you."

In the morning I was thinking rationally again.  I laid down an ultimatum.

 "Clark," I said as sternly as I could.  "I can afford to leave that
apartment unrented for two months.  There are two weeks left to this month.
I'll give you until the end of this month and the following two, to decide
what to do.  If you make a decision, which is right for you, and wrong for
me, I'll understand.  I love you, and your happiness trumps all my other
needs."

 Clark began to cry.  He did not comment on my ultimatum, but he kept
whimpering, "Please don't leave me."  I could only wonder if he loved me
enough to come out of the closet.

Two days later he said to me, "I've decided on how to come out."  I was
flabbergasted.  He hadn't even prefaced it by saying that he was coming
out.  He made it a fait accompli.

I got excited.  "Yes," I said too eagerly.  "Tell me."

 "I've been invited to The Met Gala in New York.  I want you to walk The
Red Carpet with me.  We'll wear matching tuxedos, and when the paparazzi
ask me who you are, I'll say, `My fiancé...my future husband.'  My
current movie will be wrapped up by then, and I don't start the next one
until after The Gala.  I'm excited about it.  It's not a romantic comedy.
I'm going to be an action hero."  He grinned broadly at me.

I couldn't believe what he had just said.  I was speechless, but I was more
than able to hold him in my arms, and suck his tongue until it hurt.

When The Gala was over, and the world learned that Clark Davis, the macho
matinee idol, was gay and engaged to be married, his studio got the usual
hate mail, but the vast majority of the mail was positive.  Surprisingly,
the paparazzi were the group most supportive.  In gratitude, whenever they
bombarded us, we gave them plenty of pictures, and even mugged for the
camera.  One of them was always sure to ask when we were getting married.
We hadn't really talked about, but we figured it was time to set a date,
and to decide how we were going to do it.

The only family I had was a grandfather in Argentina, and he was too frail
to make the trip.  Clark informed me that his parents said they loved him,
but they would never attend his same sex wedding, so we decided on a small
reception with just a few good friends in attendance.  I invited nobody,
and Clark invited his agent.

We honeymooned in Argentina, so I could show Clark the humble roots I had
come from, and most importantly, I wanted him to meet my grandfather before
it was too late.  Even in Argentina, Clark was recognized, and more than a
few fans asked for his autograph.

I was so much happier now that Clark and I could go places together.  We
ate out a couple or three nights a week, and I attended other Red Carpet
events with him.  My greatest thrill was attending The Academy Awards with
him, and walking The Red Carpet holding hands.  Even though he was not
nominated for anything, he was a presenter.

 Clark's career expanded when his agent convinced him to cut a music album.
He had a spectacular voice which was not being exploited in his movies.
The album was moderately successful, but it vastly increased his fan base.

 Everything changed in our lives, but one thing remained constant, our
love.  No matter how busy we both were, we always made time to make love
with each other.  Clark told me that his greatest pleasure was not his
fame.  It was when he was sucking my cock, or entertaining it up his ass.
I told him that it was the same for me.

One evening, after a very intense, and completely satisfying, love making
session, Clark wondered out loud if anyone would have the guts to make a
movie about the love affair and marriage of a gay couple.

"I'd want to star in it," he said, and I wouldn't mind if you were my
co-star."

I broke out laughing.  "I can't act," I said adamantly.

 "Don't worry.  I'll teach you.  Anyway, without acting, think how
authentic our love scenes would be."

 After thinking about it for a moment I suggested that maybe we could
produce the film ourselves with hidden cameras around the house.

 "That would be porn," Clark said.  "But maybe, just maybe, we could make
the film independently.  Clark fell asleep that night with much to think
about, and with a goal in mind.  The film would probably never be made, but
we had something to plan and ponder.