Derek & I
Copyright ã 2003
By Lee Mariner
* * * * * * * * * * * *
This is
an adult fantasy depicting homosexual acts. If you are not of
legal age
in your locality to be reading this story or should you not approve of
such
material, please leave.
The author copyrights this work. It may not be copied, reproduced
or
posted on any web site without the specific written permission of
the
author. All Rights are reserved.
Editing and proofing has been done by Scottie MacGregor.
mariner23502@hotmail.com
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Chapter #36
I guess I should not be surprised by Derek's sudden changes or
decisions, but he
caught me off-guard when he suddenly wants to buy a new
car. We had
only briefly discussed the need for something other than my truck, but
we had
not reached a mutual conclusion as to make or model. Even though I knew
he did
not need my permission to buy anything he wanted. I guess deep inside
of me, I
was a little chagrined at the idea of his being wealthy and even though
he said we shared
alike, it was still his, not ours. A very small voice was whispering in
my ear,
"Get over it, give him time unless you want to lose him."
It was difficult to 'get over it', even though I knew that I was being
foolish,
and when we reached the truck, I looked back at my mother,
standing in the
utility room doorway appearing to be as nonplused as I was. When she
saw me
looking, she smiled as she turned to go back inside, throwing her arms
up into the air waving as she disappeared throught the doorway.
I felt the excitement generated by Derek's enthusiasm as we got into
the truck
but instead of turning the ignition on, I turned sideways and
said,
"I know you mentioned getting another car, D, and believe me, I'm all
for
it. But, do you have any idea what you want?
"I think I do," he answered, giving me one of his innocent pixie
looks, his blue eyes twinkling impishly. "Chevrolet has come out
with a
new car named Monte Carlo. I've seen pictures of
them in
magazines and one passed us the other day when we were out shopping
with Morgan. They've got a sort of sports car look but they are bigger
- not all
squatty. I think they are neat looking," he finished,
breathlessly.
The intensness of his fervor was unusual, and I was surprised that he
would
show any interest in cars. He hadn't given any indication that he
was
except for the small off-handed comment he had made about my
truck. I had
to admit though, he had picked a good one. The new Chevrolet was
supposed
to be the hottest thing on the market, and I could tell from the look
on his face
he wanted one. I didn't want to seem that inspired by his
enthusiasm but
there was an excitement he always created within me that would
not be
that easy to suppress.
"Yeah," I said, glancing at him as I inhaled nervously, swallowing an
accumulation of saliva as I tried nonchalantly starting the trucks
engine. "I' saw one in the parking lot the other day when, Dad
and I
went bowling."
"What did you think about it?" he asked excitedly, moving closer, and
pulling one leg up on the seat as he faced me.
"We didn't look at it, that close Derek. I saw it parked at the
bowling alley with some other cars, but it was getting dark, and we
didn't want
to be late," I said. Fearing that I had strung the
teasing
out to far, I quickly added, "We can run over to Scholtskys
Chevrolet
on Brandywine if you want to look at them, they probably have a few on
display."
§
Schlotskys was the
largest dealership of the many on
Brandywine Blvd. It was said that Norman Schlotsky, who had
immigrated
from Poland in the early nineteen-hundreds, had bought the land for his
dealership outside of the city anticipating city growth outside of it's
original boundaries.
When we drove onto the lot there were several salesman milling in front
ot the
main showroom doors. None of them seemed anxious to greet us as
most car
salesmen do, and as I was looking for a place to park, Derek said, "I
think the truck with teenagers inside is the reason no one moved."
"Probably," I agreed as we parked and dismounted from the
truck, not at all surprised by his astute observation.
Plastic flags strung over the rows of shiny new Chevrolets flapped and
rattled
in a stiff breeze. The selection of cars seemed endless but,
there didn't
seem to be any Monte Carlo models visible on the lot. Derek and I
milled
around, looking into windows, checking the price tags. When I
turned to
say something, I saw a middle aged man approaching us. He was
well-groomed, and
dressed in
an expensive suit. I caught myself wondering if he did his shopping
at
Hoffmeyers.
"Good morning, I'm Harold Caplin," he said as he approached.
"What can I do for you young
gentleman?" he asked, his face wreathed in a brilliant
teeth revealing smile. "Are you looking to trade the truck
in?
We can give you a good deal on an early vintage model Ford."
"We..." Derek started to say, and then in a panic, I cut him off
saying, "Not this time, we aren't, Mr. Caplin, we're just looking."
"We are," Derek continued, throwing me an angry glare. " looking
for one of the new Monte Carlo's but, I don't see any on the lot."
"Ho, boy, you go right to the top don't you?" Caplin said, his smile
seemingly chiseled on his face. "They are selling so fast that we
have a hard time keeping them on display. There is a new shipment in
'new car
prep', but if you want to see one up close and personal, we do have two
beauties sitting on
the main
showroom floor."
"Are they for sale," I asked, feeling stupid after blurting out
the words.
"Everything on this lot is for sale, Mr...Mr..."
"Marks, and this is Derek Kingsley," I answered quickly, nodding my
head in Derek's direction.
"Nice meeting you and Mr. Kingsley," Caplin replied, still smiling
and not hesitating as he asked, "Who is interested in a new car?"
"We both are, Mr. Caplin," Derek said quickly.
"Two cars!" Caplin exclaimed, stopping suddenly as he was reaching for
the showroom door handle.
"No..., not two, just one," Derek said, glancing at me
with a twinkle in his eyes as, reaching past a seemingly
dumbfounded car
salesman, he flung the door to the showroom open.
Caplin had not exaggerated. There were two gleaming Monte Carlos
sitting
on either side of a beautiful fire-engine red, Corvette
two-seater sports car. Derek stood stock still, looking at the
Corvette, and
glanced at me, his eyes gleaming. I felt a knot of panic gathering in
the
middle of my chest at the sternum. Inhaling deeply, I mouthed the
words
"no way." A wave of relief flooded over me when winking, he
grinned and turned to what I would have considered as the Corvettes
counter-part, the Monte Carlo. The Monte Carlo we were looking at
was two
doors but, built to carry four people. Unfortunately, the two
passengers in the
rear might have felt like they were in a sardine can.
It's lines were smooth and tapered unhindered by excessive
chrome.
Headlights, running lights, and tail lights were receded into the cars
front
and rear fenders, visible only by narrow chrome fittings. Door
handles
were hidden within the door and the slant of the windscreen gave the
car a
rakish, aerodynamic appearance. The radio antenna was centered at the
front edge
of the hardtop roof and slanted to the rear of the car.
"Gee, Larry," Derek exclaimed, breathing almost reverently, his hands
hovering over the high gloss fender as if undecided whether he should
touch it
or not. "She has everything anyone would want."
"And then some," Caplin injected before I could voice an
opinion. "There is a 360 horsepower, Turbo-jet V-8 under
the
hood, and she has a Turbo Hydramatic Transmission, automatic level
control,
rear wheel skirts, 15 inch chrome wheel covers, and a lot of other
stuff,"
he said, rattling off the cars attributes. "That car sitting
right
there will set some buyer back over five-thousand not including title
and
taxes.
"We'll take it," Derek said, running his fingers over the
highly polished hod and fender, looking inquisitively at me as he did.
"If you are you sure its what you want, D, it's all right with me," I
said softly, glancing at Caplin who was standing with one hand on the
door
panic-bar, slack-jawed, a look of disbelief in his eyes.
"But...,but, you haven't looked at any of the other cars on the lot,"
Caplin finally managed to say, moving hesitantly from the door toward
us.
"I know that, but, we don't have to Mr. Caplin?" Derek replied.
"We wanted a Monte Carlo, and this is it."
§
It was amusing how
quickly the atmosphere changed when
Derek produced the checkbook that the bank had provided, and
announced he
was paying cash for the car. Caplin was flabbergasted and at first
seemed in a
dilemma as to what he should do. He suddenly beat a
hasty
retreat into another area of the building, reappearing with a gentleman
who
introduced himself as Charles Keonig, the General Manager.
I could see that Derek was becoming a little irritated at being
questioned again but, he drew in a deep breath and re-stated what he
wanted and
how he was going to pay for it.
It didn't surprise me when Mr. Keonig replied, "You will forgive our
skepticism but, it is not that often that we have a young man make such
a
pronouncement, and I am sure you will understand we will have to verify
the
information you've given and your check."
"Absolutely," Derek responded. "It might save some time if
you called Henry Masters, Vice-President of Heritage Bank and Trust; he
handles
all of my finances."
Keonig and Caplin excused themselves, and while they were gone Derek
and I
investigated the Monte Carlo closer than we had done initially.
We were
both sitting in the car admiring the instrument panel and interior
appointments
when they returned. Both men practically fell over themselves in
accomplishing the sale including the trade-in of my pickup truck.
Derek
objected at first but, my contention was that we wouldn't be needing
it.
Inside of me, the real reason was that by including my truck, it gave
me
inclusion in the purchase of a car that would be ours.
Derek insisted that his name and mine be on the title, and
registration, and
the insurance and license from the pickup were transferred to the Monte
Carlo.
Mr. Keonig assured us that new insurance and registration documents
would be
forthcoming within ten days to two weeks.
While we were in Mr. Keonig's office signing papers, the car had been
removed
from the showroom floor and was being detailed. It sparkled like
a dark
blue diamond when Mr. Caplin drove it up to the front of the
dealership.
After a few pleasantries, Mr. Keonig give Derek an envelope containing
the
papers of the sale including the title and registration. I started to
open the
passenger door to get in but, Derek, pulling me back, said, "you
drive."
§
I didn't stop to
think that Derek did not have a drivers
permit, but when we pulled off of the car lot onto Brandywine, he slid
across
the dark maroon leather of the seat, and said, 'You'll have to
teach me
how to drive."
"That won't be very difficult, D, not with these automatic
transmissions," I said. "All you will need to learn is the
manual, how to steer and judge distances when you're trying to park or
following someone."
"That does not
sound very difficult," he responded.
"Some people pick it up right away, D, but, there are others that
are so nervous they sometimes freeze behind the wheel."
"I never thought of it as being that difficult," he responded
thoughtfully.
"Most don't, but all we need some weekend, is a large empty parking lot
where you can practice," I said; resisting the urge to test the
powerful
360-Horsepower V-8 engine. "The first thing to do, is to get a drivers
manual so you can learn the rules of the road and take the test for a
temporary
learner's permit."
"All of that sounds complicated," he replied. "When can we
start?" he asked anxiously.
"Not until Monday when the Department of Motor Vehicles office
opens," I answered, reveling in the looks of envy and admiration of
other
drivers as we passed them.
"That gives us the rest of today and tomorrow to break the car in,"
he said; the coquettish tone in his voice distracting me for a moment.
"Ugh huh," I responded, grinning at him. "Do you want to have
lunch at Sonics after we stop and show Dad the car?"
"I guess we could; but, I was thinking it would be nice if we picked up
what we want at Sonics, and had a
picnic
in DeVoe Park," he suggested in answer to my question.
"I don't see why not," I replied, a strong tingling feeling prominent
in the depths of my groin.
§