This
story concerns teenage gay males who are involved in sexual
situations. If it is illegal for you to read such stories, or if you do
not like to read such stories, please leave now.
This story is copyright 2006 by the author who retains all rights.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents
either are the product of the author's imagination or are used
fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is
entirely coincidental.
This is my second submission to Nifty. This is a continuation of
“Kiel’s Story” which was last posted on 7/24/06. It is not necessary to
read “Kiel’s Story” before reading this, but it may help you understand
where the character relationships started. Any comments or questions
are welcome at: carl_holiday@att.net
A warm thank you goes out to all who’ve written. I appreciate knowing
someone is actually reading this stuff. I try to respond to all,
including flames, but time is precious in my life, so if I didn’t
answer yours, please accept my apology.
Tim and the Corsair
by Carl Holiday
Chapter 15 – Welcome to Sunny LA
Until
I went down to California to spend three weeks with my Uncle Walter, I
had
never been in an airplane. Dad, of course, flew all the time when he
was selling
pipe, but the rest of us were relegated to ground transportation.
Mother,
Sally, and an unusually passive Johnny took me to the airport.
Johnny
was upset about me getting to leave for three weeks, when he, Scott,
and the
new kid, a strange, ugly, schizo named Arnold, had to stay home. I
think the
only thing that saved us on the drive was Johnny’s new meds that kept
him sort
of subdued all the time. He was never happy, but never sad, either. He
was
accompanying us simply because he wouldn’t be a problem. He couldn’t be
a
problem. I kind of felt sorry for him.
What
the other three boys didn’t know was that Doctor Randall was trying to
figure
out how to get me out of the group home environment on a permanent
basis. As
far as he was concerned, I was practically over whatever it was that
made me
want to kill myself. The dark ogre had been defeated. I figured the
easiest
solution was to find another house for the group home and allow our
house to
revert back to a regular home for Mother, Doctor Randall, Sally and me;
except,
no one seemed to be working in that direction. All the effort seemed to
be
directed toward getting me out. Even Mother seemed to be okay with the
idea.
Sally, of course, was oblivious to anything.
What
I didn’t know, at the time, was that Uncle Walter was in on the act,
too. It
seemed my three week adventure in Movieland was to be a sort of test to
see
whether I was compatible with Uncle Walter’s lifestyle, which included
extended
trips out of town where I would be required to fend for myself, for the
most
part. He did have a butler of some sort who took care of a lot of
things like
my airplane ticket, which was one way. If I wasn’t such a pushover, I
might
have questioned that.
Mother
and Sally were kind of teary eyed when they said there goodbyes.
Johnny, on the
other hand, just kind of hung his head down, staring at the floor. I
wanted to
kiss him, but all I could do was give him a chaste hug and whisper in
his ear,
“I’ll be back in three weeks and we’ll do something. Just us. Okay?”
He
looked at me, but the sparkle wasn’t in his eyes anymore. There was
half of a
smile and he kind of nodded, but it was so slight I wasn’t sure. I
could have
sworn the old Johnny was still in there, somewhere trying to get out.
“Come
back,” he said, as a little tear dribbled down his cheek. I brushed it
away
with my finger and turned away from him.
I
showed my boarding pass to the ticket agent and walk down the ramp to
the
airplane. My adventure had begun.
I
had a window seat in first class, but since I’d never flown before I
didn’t
have a clue what I was missing back in coach. The stewardess, who
looked like
she might have been only a couple years older than me, asked what I
wanted to
drink. Something about her demeanor suggested she was more than ready
to kneel
down in front of me and give me the blowjob of my life. It was her
hands that
betrayed her, though. She worked for a living. She used those hands a
lot and
they were definitely a lot older than her face.
“How
much is a Coke?” I asked.
“It’s
free,” she said. “Have you ever flown before?”
“No,
this is my first time.”
“You’re
not nervous, are you?”
I
could imagine a scared, little kid being nervous about being enclosed
in a long
metal tube for an extended period of time. I read about airplanes. I
knew all
the physics about flying. I also knew that a two hundred fifty pound
man could
be sucked out one of those little windows if it accidentally broke. I
was less
than a hundred twenty.
“No,
I’m not nervous about flying. Could I have some water?”
“Sure.”
All
I could think about was being in LA for three weeks with Uncle Walter.
It was
hard to imagine what it would be like to live with a man who was just
as queer
as me. I didn’t suspect he had orgies because he was too business-like.
On the
other hand, maybe he had a boyfriend, someone young, in college, cute,
who was
secretly planning to seduce me. We’d spend three weeks at Uncle
Walter’s beach
house in Malibu, which he never told me about, but I assumed
he had
because he was in the movie business and that’s what you were supposed
to have.
Or, maybe, just lounge out by the pool while Uncle Walter’s butler, or
whatever
he was, served us Cokes and rolled joints for us.
I
didn’t think Uncle Walter was the type to smoke marijuana, though. He
seemed
more the scotch and soda kind of person; maybe rye whiskey with a
splash of
spring water.
What
I didn’t know was what I was going to do. Three weeks in a house in a
city I
wasn’t familiar with; and, during the summer. Where was I going to meet
other
kids? I certainly hoped I wasn’t going to be put to work. I was too
smart to be
expected to do manual labor beyond cleaning my room, or giving another
guy a demonstration
on how well I used my hands. I was beginning to dread going down there.
And,
then, the plane started down the runway. There’s that moment when the
world
drops out from under you and the plane takes off. That critical moment
when an
untightened screw, a missing bolt, or some other kind of screwup sends
the
plane careening down the runway as it bursts into a raging ball of fire.
The
plane took off.
When
I got off the plane in LA I wasn’t looking for Uncle Walter. I was
looking for
movie stars. Since I didn’t watch television enough to know who was
staring in
what, I was placing all my hopes on seeing a movie star, but there
weren’t any.
Actually, there wasn’t even an Uncle Walter. There was a man, though.
He was
older, like maybe sixty or something. Grandfatherly he wasn’t, more
like
distinguished, like a butler. I walked towards him, but a little girl
got there
first and he picked her up and kissed her on the cheek.
“Geoff?
Geoff Johnson?” A voice asked at my shoulder. I turned and saw a
tanned, blond
haired, man in a light gray suit probably not more than thirty, I
guess. He was
maybe six feet tall, taller than me, of course. Green eyes. I’d never
met
anyone with green eyes before, but this guy had green eyes. His face
was
angular, but his hair was nearly down to his shoulders.
“Yes?”
“I’m
Bertrand, Mr. Johnson’s assistant. I’ve come to fetch you.”
“You’re
British.”
“No,
I’m not.”
And,
he turned and walked away. I followed. Well, he certainly sounded
British, or
at least what I expected British to sound like. One thing, though, he
had a
cute ass and his shoulders were broad. I was beginning to wonder how he
assisted Uncle Walter.
We
retrieved my luggage, but he had a skycap take care of it. There wasn’t
that
much and I could’ve carried it, but I guess that wasn’t done. We got
into a
cab, Bertrand sitting on the driver’s side and me on the other. He gave
the
address and no more words were spoken the whole trip. He seemed
standoffish,
pompous, maybe. Like going to the airport to get me wasn’t something on
his
list of duties.
I
was trying to pay attention to which way the driver was going, but
after we
passed Sunset Boulevard Bertrand started talking.
“I’m
from Dunedin on the South Island of New Zealand,
originally. My
parents moved all of us to York, in England, to be close to my
grandmother who was
dying. I guess
there was some inheritance mother was expecting. I was at Cambridge
when Walter met me in London. I’d come down to visit a friend and we
sort
of
bumped into one another in Harrads buying shirts, I think. I’ve been
with
Walter for nearly ten years, now.”
“So,
that makes you his?”
“Assistant.”
“Okay.”
Boyfriend
was my guess, but maybe he was Uncle Walter’s assistant. I didn’t know
Uncle
Walter at all, since he and my father never spoke. But, Bertrand
certainly
looked like a boyfriend. I certainly was ready to make him my boyfriend.
Uncle
Walter’s house had a wrought iron gate, but it was already open. The
house
didn’t look all that big from the street side, but after the cab left
and I had
to tote my own bags, the house started to get bigger. We went in the
front door
and Bertrand stopped.
“You
will use the side entrance from now on,” he said. “The front door is
for
guests. If you have friends over, they will use the side entrance, too.
If not,
you will instruct them accordingly.”
“You
don’t like me, do you?” I asked. He was too cold, too formal. He
certainly gave
off a “don’t touch me” feeling.
“It
is not my place to like you or not like you,” Bertrand said. “You are
Walter’s
nephew, therefore, you are family. Whatever your relationship with
Walter is,
it is not my concern.”
Well,
maybe, he wasn’t Uncle Walter’s boyfriend.
We
were standing in the foyer and it was the kind of foyer you think about
when
you’re trying to imagine what a foyer might look like. It was probably
as big
as our living room and the floor was some kind of polished rock, kind
of pink,
white, and gaudy. The walls had paintings, abstract I think, certainly
not
paintings I would have put up.
“Your
room is upstairs,” Bertrand said, turning and starting up the staircase
that
seemed out of some Busby Berkeley movie. I expected a bevy of
ballerinas to
come bounding down, but they didn’t. Bertrand still had a cute ass,
though, and
I decided I’d follow it anywhere.
At
the top of the stairs two hallways went off in opposite directions. I
looked
over the railing and determined a head first fall just might do it. You
get
that way when you’ve been on suicide watch, looking for ways to do it
yourself.
You kind of get the ability to judge heights. The only problem with
this one
was there wasn’t enough height to get vertical before hitting the cold
stone
below. You’d hurt a lot, then probably die, but you’d hurt a lot.
Suiciders
aren’t looking for agony, they’re in agony already. They’re looking for
quick
relief.
“Was
there something?” Walter asked.
“No,
just admiring the view,” I said. He looked at me then shook his head.
He was
definitely an adult, no sense of humor.
“Your
bedroom is this way,” he said, heading off toward the right.
“What’s
in the other direction?”
“Your
uncle and I have our suites on that side of the house. You have no
business
going that way.”
And,
a very unwelcome to you, too.
“This
is your room,” Bertrand said, opening a door halfway down the hall.
“Walter
decided you’d do better with the morning sun.”
First
of all, there wasn’t a bed. That was the first thing I noticed. Then I
noticed
the room was about as big as our house. There was a pool table in the
middle of
it. A couple of black leather sofas and a television along the left
side, a
fireplace and French doors leading out to a balcony on the far side, a
bar with
stools and a refrigerator on the right side along with double doors
which led
into the bedroom. I could see myself living here for the rest of my
life,
except I’d have to get rid of Bertrand.
The
bedroom was big, not as big as the other room, but still big. The bed
had to be
at least a king. Plenty of room for lots of boys. But, it was the
mirrors that
threw me off. The closets had mirrors. There was a mirror above the
bed. There
were mirrors on the walls.
But,
it was the painting that stopped my heart. It was a portrait, sort of.
The two
boys, well, not really boys, but certainly not adults, were naked. Not
nude,
naked. There’s a difference. They were very much wrapped up in what
they were
doing and it wasn’t building model airplanes or picking raspberries. I
couldn't
see any genitals, but I knew they were there. That was as obvious as
hell. I
swallowed.
“You
have orgies here?” I asked. It certainly looked like a room where you’d
want to
have an orgy.
“No,
oh the painting, that’s one of Walter’s. Do you like it?”
“Uncle
Walter painted that?”
“Yes.
Does it bother you?”
I
heard the condescension in his voice. I’m a real queer, you’re only a
boy, from
the sticks, besides.
“No,
I’m not used to seeing art like that.”
“If
it bothers you too much, I might be able to find something more to your
liking.
Bambi, maybe.”
“Look,
I like it, okay? I’ll jerk off looking at it the whole time I’m here.
Okay?
That’s what you want, right?”
Okay,
I was a little mad, no a whole lot mad. This pompous ass, it was still
cute,
though, was making me mad.
He
stared at me for a moment then slowly walked the few steps that
separated us
and brushed my cheek with the back of his fingers. He was smiling.
“Walter
said you were queer, but I didn’t believe him. Your bedroom is this
way.”
I
followed him back out into the hallway and we headed toward the other
end of
the house.
“If
you bring any friends to the house, they can use the television and
pool table,
but the other room will be locked. If you want to have a tryst, use
your
bedroom.”
“Where
do I find friends around here?”
“I
believe Walter is arranging that.”
My
bedroom was a bedroom. The bed was probably a queen, snicker, snicker.
And,
there weren’t a lot of mirrors. It had its own bathroom which was about
as big
as my bedroom at home. The bathtub was almost big enough to swim in.
The shower
stall had room for four boys, not that I intended on having four boys
in my
shower, but there was room for them. The toilet was in its own little
room.
Everything was polished rock. A geologist’s dream bathroom, certainly
not my
dream bathroom.
The
bedroom had two paintings, naked guys doing naked things to each other.
There
was a French door leading out to a small balcony, high enough to take
care of
business if I was so inclined, which I wasn’t, anymore.
“I
like it, I guess,” I said. “Are all the paintings of naked guys?”
“Don’t
you like nudes?”
“Oh,
I like nudes, but those guys are naked.”
“Oh,
yes, I suppose you’re right. Do you want something different?”
“No,
if I don’t meet anyone, I can always jerk off looking at the paintings.
Kind of
like an in-home dirty magazine.”
“It’s
meant to be art.”
“Hi!
I’m Brian.” He was a tad shorter than me with wavy, sun bleached brown
hair
barely touching his ears, rosy cheeks, a thickening of peach fuzz on
his upper
lip, a practiced smile, and hands that were too big for the rest of his
body.
He may have been cute when he was ten, but adolescence was tearing his
good
looks to shreds.
“I’m
Geoff,” I said holding out my hand, which was ignored.
“I
guess I’m supposed to hang out with you while you’re visiting sunny
LA,” Brian
said. He hadn’t made a move to come inside. Frankly, he looked bored.
He was
wearing a short-sleeved white shirt, khakis, and brown penny loafers,
definitely not my idea of hanging out attire, which was blue jeans, a
t-shirt,
and broken in black high-tops.
“Yeah,
my uncle said you were coming by this morning. So, what do you have in
mind?”
“Well,
I guess we could go over to my place so I can dress down a bit.”
“Sure,
let’s go.”
When
Uncle Walter came home from a dinner engagement the previous evening he
seemed
really excited that he’d arranged to have a television star hang out
with me
during my stay.
“I
don’t watch that much television,” I said. We were out by the pool.
Bertrand
brought us iced tea and disappeared.
“You
haven’t seen Treasure
Island?” Uncle
Walter asked. His eyes sparkled in the late
evening light.
“Oh,
that kiddy show Sally watches. Yeah, I’ve seen it a couple times. So,
my new
friend is on that show?”
“Brian
DeBree plays Jed.”
“Oh,
the big kid with the weird smile. I always thought his named was
pronounced
Deb-ree.” I’d seen it a couple times when Sally needed watching. Built
in
babysitter has to watch what baby wants.
“Yeah,
the smile,” Uncle Walter said. He looked liked he’d swallowed a lemon
seed.
“Anyway, his agent owes me a favor. The kid is supposed to be nice away
from
the camera, a real down-home American kid.”
Brian
was driving a suped-up ’57 yellow Chevy coupe that he drove like a
tractor. We
didn’t talk all the way to his house, which was down the hill from our
place
then left a little bit. Basically, he drove busy street to busy street,
when a
few side streets might have shortened the trip by a couple miles. His
house was
a family home, a three-bedroom rambler. I imagined there was a mother,
father,
Brian, a little brother, and maybe an older sister. There was a cocker
spaniel
inside. She looked old, tired, and worn out.
“I’ll
be right back,” Brian said, leaving me in the foyer. There didn’t seem
to be
anyone else at home, which was confirmed in a few minutes when he came
back
without any clothes on. He went into the living room and was rummaging
through
a stack of magazines. There wasn’t a break in his tan, but his ass was
flabby.
It kind of hung from his hips like a heavy curtain. His dick on the
other hand
wasn’t anything to write home about, but definitely had a certain
appeal, maybe
too much appeal for me.
“You
like it?” Brian asked, standing in front of me, his dick perking up.
“Why don’t
you suck it?”
“Sure,
why not,” I said. I could’ve said no. I could’ve said I didn’t suck
cock on a
first date, but it had been a few days since Scott and I had spent some
time
together. I knelt down and got the silly thing going.
Then
the phone rang.
“I’ve
got to get that, it might be my agent,” Brian said, pulling his swollen
dick
out of my mouth. “Oh, come on, you can do it while I talk on the phone.”
I
followed like the puppy dog I was. I had him in my mouth before he
picked up
the receiver.
“Hey,
this is Brian … Oh, hi, yeah, haven’t talked in a while … No, been busy
trying
to get on that new Walter Johnson project … You are? … Well, his nephew
is
sucking my dick right now … Would I kid you? … No, a real pushover …
Yeah, good
tongue action … Why don’t you and your brothers come over? … No, but I
bet you
can fuck him … No, he’s easy.”
I
pulled off. I might have been a pushover, but I was not easy. And, who
asked me
if I wanted some stranger’s dick up my ass.
“Wait,
I’ve got to go,” Brian said. “Something’s come up.”
I
stood up and headed for the door.
“Hey,
you’re not done,” Brian said.
“Yeah,
I am. Call him back and offer your own ass. Fucker!”
I
walked out the door and when I reached the sidewalk, turned right,
which is the
way I thought we’d come. After two blocks I came to a busy street and
crossed
at the light. I figured all I had to do was head west and up hill and
I’d
eventually come to a street I recognized from yesterday.
After
walking for about a couple hours, or so, I came to a busier street.
There was a
payphone on the corner. Time to call Bertrand for a rescue. Luckily, I
had my
dime. My mother always told me, “Never leave the house without a dime
in your
pocket.” When in doubt, call.
“Johnson
residence.”
“Bertrand?
This is Geoff.”
“Is
something wrong? Where are you?”
“Brian’s
an asshole.”
“I
could’ve told you that. Where are you?”
“I
don’t know. It’s a big, busy street. Lots of cars. Uh, I’m looking at
an
Italian restaurant across the street. Mama something, pizza …”
“Is
there a street sign?”
“Yeah,
Santa
Monica Boulevard
and King’s Road.”
“There’s
a small café, I think it’s behind you on your left?”
Glancing
to my left there was a blue neon sign. “Yeah, Jimmy’s Place.”
“Go
in there and I’ll be down within the hour. You know, you could’ve
picked a
better part of town to get lost in.”
“But,
I prefer pizza.”
“Don’t
go in the pizza place. You’re much too young for Mama’s.”
“Serve
liquor, huh?”
“Yes,
but it’s not the liquor. Just go in Jimmy’s.”
He
hung up. I wanted a pizza, but I guess I’d have to settle for a
hamburger.
Jimmy’s was a diner out of the Thirties or Forties, lots of chrome with
booths
across the front under the smoke stained window facing the street.
There was a
counter with black upholstered, chrome trimmed stools. There was a sour
smell
of old grease. All the booths were full. The stools at the counter were
empty,
so I sat at the one next to the cash register.
Ever
have that feeling all eyes were looking at you? That’s was what I felt
like as
soon as I sat down. I glanced around and there were only men in the
place,
except for the waitress who was walking over to me.
“Got
any money, honey?” She asked. Only, up close she looked more like a he.
She
reminded me of Darling who definitely didn’t do a very good job of
looking like
a she.
“Yeah,
I’d like ah, um …”
“Here,
look at a menu,” she said, pulling a piece of paper from behind the
salt,
pepper, and sugar holder on the other side of the counter. Her name tag
had
“Sugar” engraved on it. She was wearing a loose, frilly top like
Darling always
wore, the kind that emphasized nothing, especially the lack of breasts.
Her
blond wig reminded me of Marilyn Monroe in Some Like it Hot. There
was
too much makeup, but there wasn’t a hint of beard. Actually, there
wasn’t a
hint of facial hair, smooth as a baby’s bottom. The hands, though, were
a dead
giveaway. Those were guy hands, strong, muscular, and probably used to
jacking
off on a regular basis.
“You’re
staring,” Sugar said.
“Oh,
sorry, you remind me of someone back home,” I said, trying to figure
out
whether a BLT with chips sounded better than a Hamburger Deluxe with
fries.
They didn’t have Coke, it was the other shit. I’d have to settle for
Seven-up.
“And,
where is home?”
“Up
north of Seattle, I’ll have the, uh, Hot Roast Beef Sandwich.”
“No,
you’re more the Grilled Cheese type.” There were a couple chuckles from
the
booths. “You’re staring, again. Didn’t your mother ever tell you it
wasn’t
polite to stare?”
“Yeah,
but you look a lot like Darling. I just never believed …”
She
looked like she’d seen a knifing out on the sidewalk behind me. “You
know
Darling?”
“Yeah,
I said that.” I looked behind me, but there wasn’t anyone outside.
“Wait
a minute, let me get a good look at you.” She came out from behind the
counter
and said, “Stand up, kid. Go on, get off the stool and let me look at
you.”
I
did as she asked, even turned around because she probably needed to see
my ass
for confirmation of my identity. Knowing Darling, she definitely needed
to see
my ass.
When
I turned back to face her, she had the biggest smile I’d ever seen.
“Well, I’ll
be damned! You’re Geoff, aren’t you?”
Sitting
back down on the stool, I said. “Yeah, you know Darling?”
“We’re
practically sisters! But what are you doing here? You’re not on one of
your
crazy binges, again?”
I
shrugged a little. “No, I’m down here visiting my uncle and kind of got
lost so
his assistant told me to come in here and he’d come and get me. What
was weird
was he said I was too young for the pizza place across the street.”
“Oh,
honey, you’re definitely too young for pizza.” There were some
more
chuckles from the booths. “So, honey, what was this assistant’s name?
Is she
cute?”
“Bertrand.
Am I missing something here?”
“Bertie!
Then you’re the nephew we’ve all been hearing about.” She turned toward
the
kitchen and yelled, “Jimmy! Set the kid up with today’s special.”
Turning back
to me she smiled softy. Her hand lightly touched my wrist. “So, Geoff
Johnson
how do you like sunny LA?”
“Not
too well, so far,” I said, frowning. “My uncle set me up with a kid to
hang out
with, but he turned out to be a jerk.”
“Your
uncle is a producer. He probably called Casting to see if they had an
extra kid
hanging around.”
“He
called the kid’s agent. Something about a favor.”
“This
town runs on favors, honey. You want to hang with some real kids? I’ve
got a
couple nephews myself that might be interested in getting to know you.”
“That’d
be great.”
Bertrand
walked in and everyone stopped talking. He walked straight up to Sugar
and they
did that fake kissy-and-huggy thing with their faces. I couldn’t help
noticing
Sugar’s hand went right into Bertrand’s crotch. I was beginning to
think this
might be some kind of everyday queer hangout or something. I glanced
out the
window wondering what was going on over at the pizza place and why I
was too
young to be there.
My
meal showed up. Sugar and Bertrand were talking, so I started eating.
In
between bites, I started glancing around the place, but I couldn’t tell
if any
of the other patrons were queers. I heard a few slightly effeminate
voices, but
that didn’t confirm anything, either. But, Sugar and Bertrand were
certainly
queer. Then, suddenly, unexpectedly, a hand crossed my ass. I turned
and the
guy smiled. It wasn’t a leer, but there was a tinge of lust in the
eyes. I
looked over at Sugar and Bertrand.
“What’s
wrong, honey?” Sugar asked, taking the man’s money. I felt his friend
walk
behind me. He didn’t touch me, but I definitely felt him.
“Do
you have a booth I can sit in? I feel like a chicken on display at the
butcher’s.”
I
know my face turned red when everyone, including the cook, started
laughing, but
what was the joke? I hated not knowing what I said that was so funny.
They just
kept laughing.
When
the laughter finally died down to an occasional giggle, Sugar helped me
move me
to the empty booth. She smiled, “You’re so young and so cute!”
But
I still didn’t know what was so funny. I was going to have to ask
Bertrand what
the joke was because suddenly the subdued atmosphere came alive. It was
like
I’d turned a switch and the movie started.
The
nephews turned out to be seventeen year old, Ruben, and fifteen year
old, Rick.
Ortega was their last name. I thought I could practice my Spanish
skills with
them, but Rick said, “We’re from Illinois, Peoria, Illinois. The last
person in our family to speak
Spanish was
our grandfather.”
Ruben
was taller than me, over six feet at least, muscular like a
quarterback, but
didn’t act like a jock. His face was more round than long and his smile
was
natural. He had a California tan and straight black hair like mine, but
his was
long and pulled back into a ponytail that hung past his shoulders.
Rick
was Ruben’s opposite. He was like me in many ways, not too tall,
slender, neatly
trimmed straight black hair, thin sensitive lips. His hands looked like
they’d
feel good caressing my naked body. The bulge in his jeans wasn’t too
obvious,
yet invited exploration. His ass was cuter than Johnny’s and Scott’s
put
together, not as cute as Tim’s, but very close.
“Come
on in,” I said, leading them into the kitchen. “Could I get you
something, a
soda, ice tea, juice, water, I think we even have some imported water,
whatever
that is?”
“No,
I’m fine,” Ruben said, sliding into the dinette.
I
looked at Rick, but he just shrugged and sat opposite his brother.
“What’d
you guys have in mind to do?” I asked, trying to keep my eyes off Rick,
but
knowing full well they were zeroed in on his crotch looking for some
sign of
what was hidden beneath the denim.
“You’re
the guy from out of town, what do you want to do?” Ruben asked.
“I don’t
know, how about the beach?”
“Mama
won’t let us go to the beach, she says that’s where the pushers and
junkies
hang out,” Ruben said.
“Well,
I don’t want to do the touristy shit,” I said.
“Good,
we’ve been to Disneyland too many times,” Rick said.
“What
do you guys normally do?” I asked. Rick just sat there, looking cuter
than
hell. I wanted to go over and sit next to him and lock my lips to his.
“Hang
out mostly,” Rick said, shrugging and staring at the table.
“Shoot
hoops when we get the chance,” Ruben said. “Or, go over to Julie’s to
use their
pool. She’s my girlfriend. You got a backboard?”
“I
don’t think so, but we can look,” I said, heading toward the door. They
came
along like a couple of puppies. I went out to the driveway and followed
it
around the house. I’d never been back this way, so I didn’t know what
to
expect. The driveway expanded into a wide circle of asphalt. There was
a four
car garage that seemed to have an upstairs room, or something. But,
there was
no sign of a backboard.
“Damn,
four cars,” Rick said, practically whispering. “What does your uncle
drive?”
“I
don’t know if he owns any cars,” I said. “I’ve only been here two days.
Come
on, let’s see what’s in the back.”
The
two puppies followed me into what I thought was the back yard. It
turned out to
be a garden with lots of shrubs and flowers and stone paths, but at the
bottom
of the hill there was a pool and a sports court with a tennis net and
two
backboards.
“I
don’t think we have a basketball,” I said.
“Oh,
we got balls,” Rick said, suddenly blushing and turning his face away.
“Yeah,
we got balls, but Mama sends Ricky with me so I don’t use mine. Right
little
brother?”
“Yeah,
we don’t want you getting Julie pregnant, like she’d let you do her.
She’s so
Catholic, she dreams of becoming a nun, like Jennifer Jones.”
“She’s
not that bad,” Ruben said.
“Who’s
your girlfriend?” I asked, looking at Rick.
“He
hasn’t got a girlfriend, he’s a fag,” Ruben said. He sneered it like it
had two
or three “a’s”, like faaag. Rick kind of hung his head and walked away.
After a
few yards, he took off running. I could’ve sworn it sounded like he was
crying.
Maybe that’s why Sugar wanted her nephews to meet me.
“Don’t
worry about him, he’ll be back after he’s cried like a baby for a
while,” Ruben
said. You could almost hear the disgust in his voice, like he was
ashamed of
his brother. “So, what’s your girlfriend’s name?”
“Tim,”
I said, looking directly at him.
“That’s
a guy’s name.”
“Exactly.”
His eyes did the “I’m not going to look at you” routine.
“Then
you’re like …”
“Exactly,
like Rick. So, I suppose you’ll be wanting to leave.”
“No,
hey, look it’s cool,” Ruben said looking away from me. “It’s just that
Ricky
needs protecting because the guys don’t understand him, but if you’re
queer,
too, well that makes it okay, you know? Come on, let’s go get my
basketball and
we’ll stop and get Julie, too. Then you can hang with Ricky while me
and Julie
get it on, you know? You got any chips and snacks around here?”
“I’ll
have to ask Bertrand,” I said, following Ruben back up to the house. I
still
didn’t know what to make of the way he said Rick was a fag. It sounded
like he
was disgusted, but suddenly it’s all different because I’m queer, too.
Now, all
I had to do was to get Rick to open up and maybe we could get it on as
his
brother said.
“Now,
that guy is definitely a homo.”
“You
know Bertrand?”
“Yeah,
he and my uncle Stefan are like together all the time. I’ll wait out
here and
you can go in. No, I’ll be out in my car.”
“Then
your uncle Stefan is the waitress at Jimmy’s?”
“Yeah,
I mean that’s just too weird, you know?”
“She’s
kind of nice.”
“No,
hey, you queers are something else. A man dressed up like a girl,
that’s just
too weird. I mean she’s, I mean he’s, see you got me doing it. He’s
cool and
all, but acting like a girl is just strange.”
“Do
me a favor and don’t tell Ricky about me, okay?”
“You
call him Ricky and he’ll slug you. Yeah, you queers, you guys are just
too
weird.”
I
went into the house and began to search for Bertrand. Since I wasn’t
certain
what he did exactly, I had no idea where to find him. So, I just
started going
room to room, hoping I’d eventually find him, but after two doors, I
found his
office where he was working at a typewriter. He looked up when I opened
the
door.
“Don’t
you believe in knocking?” he asked. He didn’t have a shirt on. I
couldn’t see
any chest hair, but there were a lot of tanned muscles.
“I
didn’t know where you were,” I said. “I can’t go around the house
knocking on
every closed door, can I?”
“What
do you want?” It sound like he was mad at me, again.
“I’m
sorry for barging in on you, but do we have any chips and dip, or
crackers, or
something like that?”
“No.”
“Well,
can I get some?”
“Sure.”
“I
don’t have a lot of money.”
“Walter
didn’t talk about that, either?”
“No.”
“Okay,
come with me and I’ll get you some.” He stood up and he was naked. He
was
half-hard, too. Being particularly interested in nice, long, uncut
dicks, it
was love at first sight. “Oh, sorry, let me get my robe.”
“You
don’t have to on my account.” My eyes were locked on that beautiful
piece of
man flesh. I wanted my lips around it.
“Well,
I’m not going to have you ogling.”
“Sorry,”
I gasped, suddenly unable to breathe and talk at the same time. “It
looks so,
uh, nice, delicious.”
“Get
away from me little boy.” He put on a baby blue terrycloth robe and
tied it
with a double bow. His cock was still evident, tenting the front of the
robe.
“Were
you working on anything important?”
“It’s
a book I’m writing,” he said, heading for the door.
“You’re
a writer?” I asked. I’d never met a writer before, hurrying to catch
up. “Do
you have anything published?”
“Yeah,
six novels so far,” Bertrand said, he was heading upstairs. He had nice
legs,
too. His feet looked liked they were used to being without shoes. “But,
nothing
you’d read.”
“What
do you mean, I read lots of things.”
“Not
my stuff.”
“How
do you know?” I took my eyes off him. I couldn’t ogle and walk up
stairs at the
same time.
“You’re
still a little boy. Little boys don’t read my books.”
“I’m
not a little boy,” I almost yelled. “I’m sixteen years old.”
“You’re
still too young to read my books. You can’t even buy them.”
“I
could read them in a library. What’s your last name?”
“My
books aren’t in libraries,” Bertrand said as he opened the door to his
bedroom.
I followed him in. It was very neat and tidy. There was a latex dildo
on his
nightstand next to a bottle of lube. “I write porn, okay?”
“Yeah,
sure, okay,” I said, staring at the dildo. It was fairly realistic
looking and
even had what looked like a half of a scrotum with two huge testicles.
“Here’s
a fifty, that should do you for a week or so,” Bertrand said, but I
wasn’t
listening. My ass was quivering in anticipation of having that thing up
inside
me. “Geoff, here’s your money. What the fuck? Oh, shit!”
He
went over to his bed and put the dildo in the nightstand drawer.
“Geoff?
Hey! Geoff!” He was nudging my shoulder.
“What?
Huh? Oh, yeah, uh, sorry. You were saying? Something about pornography.”
“Here’s
your money, now go away,” he said, but my mind was still trying to
figure out a
way to get that thing into my bedroom.
“Huh?
What?”
“Geoff,
like you said, you’re only sixteen,” he said, grabbing my hand and
putting the
fifty in it. He was close to me, very close, close enough for me to
reach out
and touch the lump under his robe.
“Can
I ask you something personal?” I could smell him. It was a fresh scent,
full of
lavender.
“What?”
“You
and my uncle, what is it you do?” His face was smooth, freshly shaved.
“I’m
his personal assistant.”
“You
said that.” His nostrils flared when he breathed.
“I
take care of his personal business, like giving you money to go buy
things.”
“Yeah,
but …” His eyes sparkled.
“We
stopped having sex eight years ago,” he said, almost like he was
telling me a
secret. “We get along a lot better when sex isn’t cluttering up our
relationship. Okay?”
“Yeah,
thanks, I was just wondering,” I said. He was closer now. I don’t know
if I
moved toward him or he moved toward me, but there were only inches
between us.
I was looking down at his toenails, they were trimmed and looked
polished. I
felt his hand lift my chin. He kissed me lightly, his soft lips barely
touching
mine.
“Now,
go with your friends,” he said, stepping away from me. “You know,
Geoff, you are
okay. A few years older and, well, you’d be a lot more okay.”
“Thanks,
I guess.” I didn’t want to leave, but really didn’t have much choice as
he was
practically pushing me out the door. At the top of the stairs I
stopped, and
said, “Can we talk sometime?”
“Sure,
maybe later tonight, okay?” Bertrand said, we were close, again. Then
he
smiled. “Go on, your friends are probably wondering if you’re coming at
all. Oh,
and get some hamburger, hot dogs, buns, oh, and a cabbage, too. I’ll
make some
coleslaw. Wait, I don’t think we have any pickles, either. I’ll start
up the
barbecue for lunch, okay?”
“Sure,
thanks.”
Maybe
Bertrand and I were going to be friends after all.
When
I got out to the car—it was a white over green ’56 Buick Roadmaster in
need of
body work—Ricky was sitting in the backseat. I climbed in with him and
he gave
me a questioning look.
“We’re
going to get Julie, right?” I said, smiling. He looked away. His eyes
were red
and puffy from crying. “She’s going to need to sit up front with Ruben.”
“What
took you?” Ruben asked, pulling up to the turnaround in front of the
garage.
“We were beginning to wonder.”
“We
had to talk. I got a fifty. We need to get chips, dip, hamburger, a
cabbage,
hot dogs, buns, pickles, and whatever else you guys want. Bertrand said
he’d fix
lunch for us.”
“Well,
then we definitely need to get Julie first,” Ruben said. “Girls are
better at
grocery shopping than boys. Now, you two in the back, I don’t want no
kissing.”
“Ruben,
shut up!” Ricky exclaimed. He blushed and turned away from me.
“Hey,
Ricky, it’ll be okay,” I said placing my hand on his shoulder. He
flinched, but
didn’t try to get my hand away from him.
“A
lot you know,” he said. “Everybody says it’ll be okay, but none of you
understand.”
“I
understand.”
“No
you don’t. You’re just saying that to make me feel good.”
“No,
I understand. I do. I know what it’s like to get shoved up against a
locker at
school. I know what it’s like to have a stupid fucker grab the collar
of my
shirt and threaten to punch my lights out. I know what it’s like to
have some
asshole spit in my face. I know what it’s like to be called homo,
queer, fag,
pervert, and things that don’t even make sense. I know what it’s like
to have a
friend’s parents say I can’t be with him anymore because they’re afraid
what I
have might be catching. I know what it’s like when a father stops
talking to
you because he’s disgusted at what you are. And, you know what?”
“What?”
He was staring at me as what I’d just said started to sink in.
“I
know what its like to find out there’s at least one other boy in the
world who
is like me.” I smiled and caressed the back of his neck.
“You
guys aren’t kissing are you?” Ruben asked looking in the rearview
mirror.
“Ruben,
please,” Ricky said. He looked at me. Then his eyes went away.
I
was going to have to do something about Ruben’s insensitivity or give
Ricky
some pointers on good comebacks like, “Yes, and Geoff almost swallowed
my
tongue,” or, “No, but Geoff has his hand in my pants.”
I
took my hand away from Ricky’s neck and moved it down between us. He
placed his
hand on mine, but didn’t look at me. I settled for holding hands. I
didn’t want
to scare him off with a bunch of sex talk or touchy-feely shit. He was
too
innocent and fresh. I was falling for him and I couldn’t help it. I
wanted to
press my lips against his, but that would definitely scare him off.
When
we pulled up in front of Julie’s house, Ricky let go of my hand.
“I’ll
be right back,” Ruben said. “I don’t want to come back and see you guys
kissing.”
“I
never kiss on a first date,” I said. “Suck cock, now that’s a different
story.
Of course, we’ll have to strip to really get into it. So, if you see a
bare
foot sticking up, keep Julie back or she’ll get impure thoughts.”
Ruben
looked at me like he really believed me. I smiled.
“You
fucking queers are too weird,” he said before turning and walking up to
Julie’s
house.
“Feels
good when you get them,” I said. I looked at Ricky, but he was staring
at his
shoes.
“I’ve
never done anything with another boy,” he whispered. “I don’t know what
to do.”
“Do
you think you like me?” I asked. He was so nice I didn’t want to go too
fast or
he’d balk and runaway.
“Yeah,
but I don’t know what to do about it.”
“Would
it be okay with you if I helped you out?” He was scared, but I wasn’t
quite
certain what he was scared about.
“Like
what?”
“Like
you sleep over with me tonight and we talk about things,” I said. I had
no
intention of talking about anything other than what he should do with
his
tongue when we started kissing, or where he should put his hands when
we
started kissing. I figured kissing was a good place to start.
“Mama
won’t allow it,” Ricky said.
“How
do you know if you haven’t asked her yet?”
“I
can’t ask her,” he said turning his face away from me. “Then she’ll
know.”
“How
about if I talk to her? I can be awfully persuasive. I can be nice and
sweet,
too.”
He
turned back to me. He looked like a scared little boy who had broken
the
neighbor’s window and has to go tell Mama. He was biting his lower lip,
trying
to force himself not to start crying.
“Okay,
you win,” I said placing my hand on his thigh just above the knee.
“We’ll just
spend some time together today. If you come back tomorrow, we can spend
more
time together.”
“Move
over, here comes Ruben and Julie,” he said pushing my hand away.
I
sat back and watched Ruben and a young girl, who couldn’t have been
much older
than Ricky, walk toward the car. Ruben’s hand kept trying to get behind
her,
while she kept batting it away. She was smiling, though. It was just a
game
they played. She was slender, very slender, but not skinny. She had
nice legs,
tanned. Her hips were slender, too. Not baby making hips. Either her
blouse was
very loose or she had small breasts, I couldn’t tell, even when she
open the
door and knelt on her seat, looking back at us.
Her
brown hair was short, almost cut like a boy’s. Her eyebrows were too
big for
her face. Her nose was small, perky. Her lips were full, good for
sucking cock,
but sloppy for kissing. She had a nice smile.
“Where’d
you find your twin brother, Ricky?” She asked. “Hi! I’m Julie. You must
be
Geoff.”
I
took her hand and held it, looking into her eyes. She was a lesbian. I
don’t
think either Ruben or Ricky knew, but I knew. It was as plain as day.
She was
using Ruben to be safe. She wasn’t devout or chaste. She didn’t want
his dick
anywhere outside of his pants.
“Hi,
nice to meet you,” I said. I meant it, too. “Did you bring your
swimsuit or are
you just coming over for the sun?”
“I
don’t swim,” she said. “It’s not that I can’t. I just don’t. Okay?”
“No
problem, I hardly going swimming either.”
Ruben
got in and I guess we were heading for the Ortega house. I sat back and
looked
over at Ricky. He was looking out his window. I reached over and took
his hand
in mine. He didn’t try to pull away, but he didn’t look at me. I hoped
I hadn’t
pushed too hard, I hoped I didn’t scare him away.
The
Ortega house was a three bedroom rambler out of Anywhere, America.
Except for the palm trees, we could’ve been
on a
residential street in North
Park, Minneapolis, Buffalo,
or anywhere else. Street, sidewalk, front yard, and then house, it was
so
ordinary. I was kind of glad Uncle Walter had a huge house in the
hills. I
followed Ricky into the house. His mother was watching a soap opera and
she smiled
when he kissed her cheek.
“Hi,
I’m Geoff Johnson,” I said, standing close to the end of the sofa where
she was
sitting. Her hand was soft in mine, a mother’s hand.
“Nice
to meet you, Geoff,” she said. Her voice was from back east somewhere,
further
east than Illinois, New
England maybe. Her hair was
dark, but then there was little light in the living room, other than
the
television. “You’re Walter Johnson’s nephew.”
“Yes,
I’m down here for a few weeks for a visit,” I said. The room smelled of
onions.
There was dust on the furniture. There was a glass of something on the
end
table close to her. I wanted it to be iced tea, but the glass was too
short for
iced tea. It was the right size for liquor, though.
“My
younger brother, Stefan, said you’re from up north. How do you like
sunny LA?”
“I
haven’t seen much of it, yet.”
“Ricky?
Where are your manners? Where’d you get off to?”
“I’m
getting my swim trunks, Mama,” he yelled from somewhere in the house.
“Ricky
is a special boy,” she said. Her voice was soft, barely audible over
the TV.
“He has trouble making friends. A lot of boys don’t like him, most
really. Will
you try to be nice to him?”
“I
know how it is,” I said, wondering if I should sit down somewhere or
keep
standing. She looked up at me. She knew he was queer. “Yeah, me, too.”
She
smiled and nodded her head. “Stefan said you’re a nice, gentle boy. I
can see
that in you.”
“I
won’t do anything to hurt Ricky,” I said. “He’s a good boy. You’ve done
a good
job raising him. I hope I can be a good friend for him. I don’t have
many close
friends, either. It’s kind of hard.”
I
couldn’t think straight. She was so understanding. Ricky came out
wearing
cut-offs, a white t-shirt, and white high-tops. I was falling for him.
I knew
it and I couldn’t help it.
“I
can’t believe how you two look so much alike,” she said.
“Mama,
Geoff asked if I could sleep over at his house,” Ricky said as he came
up
beside me. “Please?”
“Make
sure you take your toothbrush,” she said. She smiled at me when he ran
back to
the hall.
Ricky
was not much help carrying the groceries into the house, putting them
on
shelves in the pantry or refrigerator, or staying out of the way so
that the
rest of us could get the job done. He was floating on cloud nine
because Mama
said he could sleep over with me. Only, he didn’t know why and I wasn’t
about
to tell him she knew he was queer.
When
everything was in its place, I told Bertrand I’d help with lunch when
he was
ready to start and then pointed Julie and Ruben out the back door.
“Ricky and I
have to go upstairs to put on our swim trunks, we’ll be down shortly.”
Ricky
was standing at the door holding his overnight bag. He looked like
someone
who’d missed his bus and was hoping there’d be an extra run just for
him. He
was anxious and excited.
“Come
on, Ricky, we’ll go up the back stairs,” I said as I opened the door to
the
laundry room. “Come on, Ricky, it’s this way.”
He
was so excited I was afraid I was going to have to pull him by the hand
to get
him to move. Then Bertrand went to him and whispered something in his
ear.
Ricky looked at me and smiled. Then he hurried over to where I was
standing.
“Okay,
I’m ready,” he said, following behind me as I wound my way around the
washer,
dryer, chest freezers—why there were three I had no idea—and a myriad
of tables
covered with all sorts of laundry, including a number of items only
women wore.
I immediately thought of Darling, then Sugar came to mind, but I
totally
dismissed Uncle Walter. Bertrand on the other hand did have long hair
and he
did spend, according to Ruben, a lot of time with Sugar.
“Ready
for what?” I asked, finally getting to the door to the stairs. In an
earlier
era, these stairs would have been used by the help, but we used them
simply to
avoid the long walk out to the foyer, then going up the Busby Berkeley
staircase.
“For
whatever you had in mind,” Ricky said. He sounded too eager.
“I
planned on changing into my swimming trunks.”
“Oh,
I thought, no, that’s stupid, we hardly know each other.”
“For
what?”
“You’re
going to laugh at me. I won’t say it.”
“Sex?
Were you thinking I’m taking you up to my room so we can have sex?”
“Well,
yeah, isn’t that what this is all about?”
I
was beginning to wonder if this kid had any idea what it meant to be
queer. It
certainly wasn’t all about sex, as far as I was concerned. Well, maybe,
sometimes, but not all the time.
“Look,
Ricky, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me,” I said turning
to him
when I reach the landing for our floor. “Yeah, I like having sex with
boys, but
you’re a virgin. You have absolutely no idea what I like to do. And,
you
haven’t done anything, so you don’t know what you like or don’t like.”
“I
like you,” he said pushing me back as he came up onto the landing. “I
like you,
okay? There I said it.”
He
was looking at me, waiting.
“I
like you, too,” I said. “But that doesn’t mean we have to go into my
bedroom
and have sex. Can’t we get to know one another first? Can’t we at least
do
something other than throw ourselves onto my bed and act like rabid
bunnies?”
“Rabid
bunnies?”
“You
know what I mean.”
I
opened my door and my eyes immediately went to the painting opposite
the closet
doors. The two boys still hadn’t started fucking, but I knew they were
close to
doing something. Then I turned to Ricky, but he seemed oblivious to
either of
the paintings.
“Where
should I put my bag?”
“Over
there on the sofa should be fine.”
“Where
am I going to sleep?” There was a hint of trepidation in his voice,
like he
didn’t want to hear what I was about to say.
“In
the bed, of course.”
“With
you?”
“God,
Ricky, you were all hot to get naked and to amazing things to my body,
but
you’re afraid to sleep with me?”
“Well,
I’ve never slept with another boy.”
“You’ve
never kissed another boy, either. Come on, let’s get into our swimming
trunks.”
I
started to strip. There was a pool out there and I wanted to get in it.
That
didn’t mean I wanted to swim. Cannonballing into the pool was a lot
more fun
that working up a sweat swimming back and forth and getting nowhere.
After I
slipped my briefs to the floor, I turned to Ricky. He was staring at me.
“Haven’t
you undressed in front of another boy before?” I asked. I wasn’t about
to wait
for an answer. I was on a mission of personal pleasure. I went over to
the
dresser and pulled out my two swim trunks. “Which one do you think I
should
wear? The red one or the blue.”
“With
your lily white skin, you’d better stick with the blue. Don’t you get
any sun
up where you live?”
“No,
it rains, mostly. Up until the Fourth of July, most people are plagued
with
moss growing between their toes because it’s so wet all the time.”
“You’re
a card. You know that.”
“I
try and sometimes it helps to be funny.”
Ricky
looked at me then pulled off his t-shirt. He had muscles where I had
only skin and
they were nicely tanned. He slipped off his shoes, then looked at me,
again.
“Are
you going to watch me undress?”
“You
watched me.”
“You’re
giving me that eye.”
“What
eye?”
“You
know, the eye guys give you in gym.”
“Look
at me, I don’t have any muscles, my dick is pathetically small, and my
ass is,
well, it is kind of cute, don’t you think?”
“You’re
funny.”
“Yeah,
and you have a nice dick,” I said as the cut-offs and briefs hit the
floor. Another
fine example of natural selection, at least seven inches of tender boy
flesh
all the way down to the uncut end, a lush crop of curly black pubes at
the end
of a dark line descending from his navel, and two large reservoirs of
tasty boy
juice hanging seductively in a dark pouch of crinkly skin. I wanted to
get
down on my knees and worship the god of sex and accept his sacrifice of
unborn
babies.
He
looked at me and smiled, then I saw his eyes go past to the painting
behind me.
His dick boned up quickly. He sort of stumbled and I rushed to him.
Those two behind
me were especially hot because both their faces were buried into a
place I
wanted to explore on Ricky.
“They’re,
uh, um …”
“Naked.”
“Yeah,
uh, can I use your, uh, bathroom,” he said trying to push his way
around me.
“Wait,
Ricky,” I said, trying to grab him before he got away. I got a wrist
and held
on. I could see fear in his eyes. For all the bravado he had earlier,
he was
suddenly scared that something might actually happen, something that he
wasn’t
prepared to deal with.
“Come
here and sit with me on the bed,” I said trying to pull him away from
the
bathroom door. I was not about to let him go in there and take care of
something he wanted me to have only minutes earlier. “Come on, I’m not
going to
bite you, yet.”
His
dick was throbbing to the beat of his heart. It was calling me to give
it
pleasure dicks had sought since before time began. My mouth filled with
spit in
anticipation of taking that beautiful thing down my throat.
“Now
you can’t see either painting, right?”
“There’s
another one?”
“Oh,
god, Ricky, you’re so unobservant. No, don’t turn to look at it. I want
you to
shut your eyes and lie back on the bed. That’s it. Now, put your hands
behind
your head and don’t open your eyes until I say so. Okay?”
“Okay.
What are you going to do?” His voice was barely audible.
“Make
you feel good,” I said lowering my lips to his. They had been there
only a
moment before I felt his body shudder under me and something hot
splattered
against the side of my face. I turned to look and got a wad right
between the
eyes. Three more bursts spewed out onto his chest and abdomen. “You
little
devil, you did that on purpose.”
He
smiled at me and sort of giggled. My thumbs went for his ribs. I was
going to
tickle him until he peed. Coming on me like that was not going to go
unpunished; except, Ricky was a lot stronger and must have taken
wrestling
because before I knew what was happening I was on my back with him
straddling
me, forcing my arms onto the bedspread.
“Don’t
mess with Ricky,” he said. “Now, what?”
“I
don’t know,” I said, smiling. “You’re the one sitting on my dick.”
“Ooh,
is that what this is?” He moved forward and back rubbing himself
against me. A
couple more times and we wouldn’t have to worry about me, either. “You
know, I
bet if I move forward just a little more and then kind of scoot back.
Yeah,
your thing knows where to go doesn’t it?”
“We
don’t have any lube,” I said trying to picture in my mind what was
about to
happen.
“Did
you look in the drawer?” he asked. He leaned over and opened the
nightstand
drawer. “What’s this? And, this tube of stuff?”
He
held up a box that had a clear cellophane window. Inside was a dildo,
almost
exactly like Bertrand’s. The tube was what we needed.
“That’s
lube, put it on my dick and it’ll go inside you easier,” I said trying
to
breathe while Ricky straddled me. He was small, but surprisingly heavy,
too;
or, was he just pressing down because he was so excited.
He
squirted some of the stuff onto his finger and began daubing it onto my
dick.
God, it felt good. It felt, too good. About the time he went around the
rim of
the glans the third time I knew I couldn’t hold back. My body tightened
and Geoff’s
good stuff spewed out onto my bare chest and tummy. (I didn’t have an
abdomen.
Abdomen implies abs. I didn’t have abs, therefore, I didn’t have an
abdomen.)
“Oh,
man, you did it, too,” Ricky said falling down onto the bed beside me.
“I guess
this means we’re meant for one another.”
“Does
it?”
“I
think so because I do like you. You make me laugh.”
“I
like you, too.” I rolled onto my side and kissed him. He smiled and we
didn’t
go anywhere or do anything except talk until Bertrand called on the
intercom
saying it was time to fix lunch.
Later
that night while Ricky was watching something totally stupid on
television, I
went in search of Uncle Walter and Bertrand. I’d been in that house
only two and
a half days and I still hadn’t been everywhere. There were so many
rooms it
reminded me of the mansion on the Beverly Hillbillies, which I
didn’t
watch that much, but enough to know Uncle Walter’s house
wasn’t that big.
It still had a lot of unexplored territory, though.
Following
the sound of voices, I found them out on the patio drinking a dark red
wine. I
almost laughed out loud when I saw Uncle Walter wearing blue jeans and
a
t-shirt. There are some people that were never meant to wear blue
jeans. His
middle-aged paunch looked so silly sitting there in front of him like
he had a
small melon stuck in his pants.
“Uncle
Walter, can I talk to you for a moment?” I asked. I sat down on the
edge of a wrought
iron chaise longue upholstered in blue, green, and white flowery
cotton. There
was a light scent of flowers in the air.
“Bertrand,
pour him a small glass of wine,” he said. “If you’re going to be with
us,
you’re going to have to learn how to drink wine.”
“But
I’m not old enough,” I said as Bertrand poured barely a shot of wine
into a
small tumbler then added about the same amount of water.
“Bull!
Kids your age are drinking this stuff all over Europe,”
Uncle Walter said. “Plus, you’re having only that much and if you don’t
drink
it before you leave, well it isn’t going with you.”
I
took a small sip. It had a sharp metallic taste.
“Yep,
he doesn’t like it either,” Uncle Walter said. “Now, what does my
favorite
nephew want?”
“Do
I have to go home after three weeks?” I was thinking of Ricky lounging
on one
of the black leather sofas upstairs. I’d had the best day of my life
with him
and I didn’t want to think I was going to lose him.
“Well,
it’s a little early to be discussing that, but no you don’t have to
leave.”
I
looked at him and then remembered the one-way airline ticket. “Is there
something going on that I should know about?”
“Like
what?”
“Is
this some kind of test, or something? I mean, is my living here with
you guys
this summer supposed to have something to do with Doctor Randall trying
to find
me someplace to live outside the group home?”
“Geoff,
you’re too smart for your own good. Yes, this is a test.”
“I
thought so.” You can fool a kid some of the time, but you can’t fool a
kid all
the time. Eventually, we start putting two and two together. They send
us to
school and then they’re surprised when we start figuring out what’s
going on.
“You’ve
fallen in love, again? What happened to the boyfriend? Tim wasn’t it?”
“I
don’t think I’ll ever see him, again.”
And,
I truly didn’t. It’d been too long. I could hope for the best, but I
wasn’t
going to pine away for someone who, in all likelihood was never going
to come
back. I had to move on, but I did, still, have the Corsair to remember
him. I
still had that.
“Do
you have a driver’s license?” Uncle Walter asked.
“No,
crazy boys don’t get to drive.”
“Bertrand,
call Reginald down at the garage tomorrow. I want Geoff to learn
everything he
can about a car. And, which car? He certainly won’t be driving the Benz
or the
Ferrari, but what about the Roadster? It certainly would make him the
envy of
every girl on campus, wouldn’t it?”
“Don’t
ask me about girls,” Bertrand said.
“Well,
don’t look at me, either,” I said. “I don’t know what girls like.”
“Yes,
I think Geoff will drive the Roadster,” Uncle Walter said. “And,
Bertrand, find
out what’s the best driving school. I don’t want you ferrying him all
over when
he can do it himself.”
“Yes,
sir,” Bertrand said.
I
looked at him and he just shrugged. He really was Uncle Walter’s
assistant.
“Can
I ask another question? Yesterday, when we were at Jimmy’s …”
“What
were you doing down there?” Uncle Walter asked. He looked shocked and
angry,
like I’d done something horribly wrong.
“That
kid you arranged for me was an asshole, so I left him and tried to find
my way
home. I sort of ended up on Santa Monica
Boulevard.”
“Well,
at least you were heading in the right direction. But, what were you
doing in
Jimmy’s?”
“Bertrand
told me to go in there. I wanted to go to the pizza place across the
street,
but he said I was too young. What was that all about? And, what was so
funny
when I said I felt like a chicken on display at the butcher’s?”
Uncle
Walter literally spewed a mouthful of wine across patio at me. Then he
started
guffawing like a donkey in heat. Bertrand was smiling so hard, trying
to stifle
laughing, too. He looked at me with puppy dog eyes.
“What’s
so funny?”
“You!
That’s what’s so funny,” Uncle Walter said as he finally started to
calm down.
“Did he really say that?”
“Yes,
brought the house down,” Bertrand said, looking at me and smiling. “He
certainly made an impression on the noontime crowd.”
“I
wish I’d have been there.”
“But,
what’s so funny?” I asked.
“Geoff,
dear, a chicken is a young boy like you,” Uncle Walter said. “And, you
saying
you felt like one must have been something to hear.”
“Like
me? What makes me a chicken?”
“Geoff,
think about yourself,” Bertrand said. “What makes you different from
all the
other boys?”
“I’m
queer. Oh, you mean, oh, that is funny. No wonder they were laughing at
me.
Kind of makes me feel embarrassed.”
“Never,
ever feel embarrassed about who you are,” Uncle Walter said. “You’re
smart and
you’re young, a little naïve, but that will change with time. And,
you’re too
young to go into that pizza place. Guys don’t go there for pizza.”
“Sex?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ve
heard about places like that,” I said. “There’s a bowling alley up near
where I
live that has a reputation as a place to get a blowjob, if you’re so
inclined.
I’ve always been kind of scared about going there.”
“As
well you should. You’re too young to be hanging around places like
that. Now,
do I need to find you another boy to be your friend?”
“No,
I’ve got Ricky,” I said. “He’s spending the night.”
“Ricky?
Bertrand who is this Ricky fellow?”
“Do
you remember Ruben Ortega from the Treasure Islandcast?”
“Yes,
nice boy, I’m surprised I haven’t seen more of him, but who is Ricky?”
“His
brother, he’s about Geoff’s age.”
“Wait
a minute, do you mean to tell me you have a friend somewhere in this
house
unattended?”
“Yeah,
why?” I answered. He sounded angry. He looked angrier. “He’s upstairs
in the
lounge watching TV.”
“Oh,
good, I was afraid he might be wandering around,” Uncle Walter said.
“That
electronic babysitter was the best invention America
ever came up with. Sucks their little minds
in and
holds them tight. You can go now. Bertrand and I need to discuss some
things.”
“Yes,
sir,” I said. I’d been dismissed. My uncle, the movie producer, simply
dismissed me. I got up, looking at my nearly full glass of wine. He was
right
about that, I hadn’t finished it. Bertrand got up and walked with me
back into
the house.
“Do
you boys need anything?” he asked. “I can make some popcorn. There
should be
some sodas in the refrigerator up there.”
“No,
thank you,” I said. “He just dismissed me like I was some kind of
employee.”
“He
probably thinks you are, but that’s just the way he is. You’ll get used
to it.”
He
kissed me, again. It was like Mother and I kissed. He held me close to
him and
I kind of felt like he loved me. Maybe we were going to be friends.