Date: Mon, 4 Sep 2000 14:04:23 -0700
From: Desert Guys <jg.ps@gte.net>
Subject: Jim and Jimmy, Chapter Fourteen

Jim and Jimmy
A novel by Greg Bowden
jg.ps@gte.net

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
It was as if he'd disappeared from his own life.


The time gods set a rather stately pace for the next couple of years. Jimmy
found he had to hire three more associates to handle the business he was
generating and of course that meant Doug had to hire another bookkeeper and
then an assistant, mostly to handle the paperwork for the warehouse.

Jim finished his city and was awarded a medal of achievement by the Turkish
government. He toyed with the idea of moving to Chicago but decided not to
after spending a week there trying to figure out the office politics. On
his fifty-ninth birthday he threw in the towel and simply retired. Shareff
couldn't have been happier.

That August, the French Prime Minister was turned out and Shareff had to go
to Paris to keep his daughter from killing him so Jim went to the lake for
a couple of weeks. Jimmy met him at the airport and they drove down to the
lake together. Poor Doug was trapped in a contract negotiation and couldn't
get there until that evening.

As soon as they were inside the screen porch Jim took hold of his son and
pulled him close. "Oh, Jimmy, it's been so long," he said, kissing him
deeply.

"Since March," Jimmy whispered against his father's mouth. "We've missed
you."

They went upstairs, into Jim's room, and undressed each other with great
delight. Then Jim slowly entered his son, pressing his cock gently in, both
of them savoring its slow progress. When he was fully inside they lay
quietly for a time, cherishing each other, loving each other. Jimmy stroked
the hair on the arms that held him and felt the bubble of pleasure
beginning to expand inside him. Just lying there, not moving, he knew...

"Dad?"

"It's okay. Just be still, let it have you."

They were silent again, for quite a long time. An outside observer might
have thought they'd dozed off but only because he wouldn't have been able
to feel what they were feeling. And then it came, unbidden but not
unwelcome. Jimmy was first, his grip tightening on his father's arms and
then a long sigh as the bubble burst in slow motion inside him. His first
spasm took his father over the edge with him.

They hung on to each other, basking in the warm afterglow of their pleasure
until it began to grow dark outside and it was time to start dinner. It was
hot on the lower floor of the house, away from the air-conditioning in the
bedrooms, so they didn't bother to dress. Besides, Doug always loved it
when he was greeted by naked men. Jim did put on an apron though, since he
was in charge of the fried potatoes.

When they heard the car door slam Jimmy went out to help carry stuff
in. The knock on the door to the screen porch told him Doug had his arms
full so he pulled it open but it wasn't Doug standing there, it was a man
in a State Police uniform. They were equally surprised to see one another.

"Mr. Keith?" The policeman looked him up and down in the dim light and then
consulted a small spiral notebook. "Mr. Jimmy Keith?"

In that instant Jimmy knew. He didn't know how, but he knew. "Yes, I'm
Jimmy Keith."

"May I..."

"Oh, yes, come in." He was already going numb.

The policeman stepped into the porch, trying to ignore the fact that Jimmy
was naked.

"Dougie?" Jim came to the doorway and froze when he saw the
policeman. "What..." His executive self took over and he stepped
purposefully into the room. "My name is James Keith, officer. Is there a
problem?"

"Yes, sir, there is." He looked from one to the other of them. "There's
been an accident, out on the interstate." He looked at his notebook again.

"It's Doug," Jimmy whispered. "Isn't it?"

"Douglas Barber, yes sir. He... he evidently swerved to miss something in
the road and hit a bridge abutment. He was driving awfully fast."

"Is he..." Even Jim couldn't bring himself to say it.

"Yes, sir, I'm afraid he was killed instantly. We found his wallet, getting
him out of... He had this address in it, and Mr. Keith's name. I... I'm
sorry. Was he..."

"He was my son's business partner, officer. He was on his way to... be with
us."

Jimmy didn't hear much else. He slowly sank to the floor and hugged his
arms around himself, as though he were cold.

The policeman told Jim that there was nothing they needed to do just
then. Doug's body would be taken to the morgue at the county seat and his
car, or what there was left of it, would be hauled into the village. He
asked that they come and identify Doug the next day, or as soon as they
could manage it. Then he left, leaving them alone, without Doug, forever.

Jim sat on the floor next to Jimmy and held him for a long time. When his
muscles began to cramp he got Jimmy to stand and then led him up to bed
where he lay beside him and held him for the rest of the night.

Jim woke to find Jimmy getting dressed. "I have to see him," Jimmy said,
his voice curiously flat.

Jim wasn't at all sure he'd be able to look at the... Even in his mind it
was hard to think of Doug as just a body. Nevertheless he had to go with
Jimmy. Before all else, including his own grief for Doug, he was Jimmy's
father and Jimmy was his focus.

It was worse than Jim ever could have imagined. The cold white room, the
casual, uncaring attendant, the smell, all conspired against him and he
finally had to leave, barely making it to the parking lot before his
stomach rebelled and emptied itself of its meager contents.

Jimmy stood ramrod straight and didn't flinch when they lowered the sheet
covering the body. Doug looked almost like he was asleep, serene and
without a care until you noticed the outline under the sheet which showed
that there was very little left of him below the belly. Jimmy identified
him, signed some papers and agreed to the recommended undertaker who would
cremate the remains.

They drove back to the lake in silence, Jimmy at the wheel. "I have to go
back to the city," he said without inflection. "There's a lot to do."

"I'll go with you."

"No. Please. It...  I...  No."

When they got to the house Jim called Paris and, after getting the third
degree from Marta, was allowed to talk to Shareff. Shareff said he could be
there in under twelve hours but Jim told him no. He needed some time alone
at the lake. Shareff understood, or thought he did.

Jimmy was sitting in his car when Jim got off the phone. "Please let me
come with you Jimmy. I don't think you should be alone, driving all the way
back to the..."

Jimmy shook his head. "No, I'm fine. Really I am. I... I just need to... I
don't know." He started the engine.

"Call me here, when you get home? Please."

Jimmy nodded and drove off.

Jim went back into the house and spent a couple of hours wandering from
room to room, touching things, looking for some essence of Doug;
remembering. After Jimmy's call he found a bottle of champagne, packed it
in ice and took it out to the anchored float where he drank it, toasting
Doug with each glass. Then he went back to the house, curled up in Doug and
Jimmy's bed and cried.

When Jimmy got home he parked the car on the street and rode the freight
elevator up to the penthouse so no one from the office would see him. Once
inside, it took him a minute to understand why he was there; when he did he
went into the bedroom, removed and carefully hung up his clothes and
crawled into the bed he and Doug had shared for so many years. He lay in
the center of the bed, staring up at the rafters for a long time and then
he slept. It was dark outside when he woke, crying.

He turned onto his stomach and beat on the bed, his fists clenched. "Why,
Dougie?" he howled into Doug's pillow. "Why did you have to go? I love you
so much." He bit down on the pillow to keep from screaming and then
screamed anyway. No one came to comfort him; Doug was gone.

Some time later he got up and found one of Doug's tee shirts in the laundry
hamper; he took it to bed with him and curled into a fetal position, the
shirt under his cheek, Doug's scent in his nostrils.

He was up with the first light of dawn. He carefully stripped the bed and
then burned the linens, along with Doug's tee shirt. When they were reduced
to nothing but ashes he remade the bed with fresh linen. He would never
sleep in it again.

He made coffee, showered, shaved and dressed. When he was ready he went
back into the bathroom garden and stared at himself in the mirror for a
long time. "You can do this," he said aloud to the image in the
mirror. "You have to. If you don't you'll die." Then he rang for the
passenger elevator and rode down to his office.

More than a year later, when he was able to think about it, he found he had
no clear memory of that time just after Doug's death. There were little
flashes: Doug's secretary, tears streaming down her face; a crowd of people
in some sort of church or chapel; Shareff holding his dad, brushing the
hair out of his eyes; ashes floating on the lake, slowly mixing with the
water and dissolving away into nothing. Curiously, in all of these brief
memories there were none of himself. It was as if he'd disappeared from his
own life.

The first clear memory was of his dad, in mid-October. They were at the
lake, in Jim's bed, holding one another. Jimmy wanted desperately to make
love to his dad, to be inside him, but he couldn't. For almost a year and a
half after that he couldn't get hard with his dad; for a long time he
couldn't get hard with anyone.

Shareff called in early December to insist that Jimmy come to Turkey for
the Christmas holidays but Jimmy refused; then Jim got on the phone and
threatened to come to the States instead. Jimmy gave in because he knew
he'd never make it through a Christmas at the lake.

Jim and Shareff met him at the airport in Istanbul. They stayed in Istanbul
for a couple of days of sightseeing and shopping and on the last day Jimmy
managed to get himself lost in the vastness of the Grand Bazaar. Finally,
in desperation, he paid one of the shop boys to lead him back to the
entrance; on the way the boy offered his sister for only a slight
additional charge but Jimmy declined. The boy then nodded wisely and
offered himself. Jimmy declined that also.

When they got to the street where Jim and Shareff were waiting Jimmy gave
the boy a tip. "I don't suppose she'll get it," he said, placing two coins
in the boy's hand, "but one of those is for your sister."

The boy looked at him as if he were crazy. "What'd she do?"

"Same as you: nothing. But give it to her anyway. Now get out of here." The
boy turned and ran off through the maze of stalls, shaking his head at the
crazy ways of Americans.

"What was that all about?" Shareff asked.

"Nothing much. He tried to sell me his sister and when I wasn't interested
he tried to sell me himself. An entrepreneur like that should be
rewarded. Besides, give him a few years and he's going to be one hell of a
handsome lad."

"Are you perhaps interested in a handsome lad?" Shareff asked quite
seriously. "There is a club where I could take you..."

"No." Jimmy's voice was a little too loud. "No, thank you," he said more
quietly. "Maybe someday..."

Shareff nodded and put his arm around Jimmy's shoulders. "I understand; it
is too soon. You will tell me when you are ready."

They left Istanbul by air and landed at the small airport Jim had built as
part of his city. Ishmael met them with the Rolls. "May I add my greeting
to that of Mr. Agizz and your father?" he said when he helped Jimmy into
the car. "It is good to see you here again."

When they got to the house Dalton personally saw to Jimmy's unpacking. "May
I say, sir, how sorry I am about Mr. Barber. He was a most kind gentleman
to serve."

"Thank you." It was all Jimmy trusted himself to say.

It began to rain that evening and the rain turned into a full fledged storm
by the next day. After lunch Shareff excused himself, saying he had some
correspondence he had to attend to, leaving Jimmy and his dad to fend for
themselves. They went to a small sitting room where Dalton had lit a fire
and which had a fine view of the sea. They sprawled out on a couch and
looked out at the storm for a long time.

"Dad?" Jimmy put his hand in his father's. "I...  I'm sorry about leaving
you like that. I know you loved him too and grieved for him but...  I had
to. I had to be... " He couldn't finish.

Jim intertwined his fingers with Jimmy's. "It was easier for me. I had
Shareff. He is very good with me."

They sat in silence for a time, listening to the storm. "I miss him so
much. For a while I thought I'd die too."

The fire crackled on the hearth, throwing warmth into the room. Jim kissed
the hand he held. "You won't. It was his time, not yours. I miss him too."

"I know. He wasn't just mine. He was ours. But I can't seem to let go."

"Give it time, son. You will, you'll have to. You won't stop loving him,
you'll never do that, but you will have to give him up."

Jimmy sighed deeply. "I know. But not yet."

That night, Christmas Eve, Ishmael knocked on his door as he was getting
ready for bed. He carried a brandy on a silver tray which he held out to
Jimmy. "For Christmas," he said, closing the door behind him.

"Thank you, Ishmael, you are very kind." Jimmy felt oddly vulnerable
wearing only a tee shirt and Doug's sapphire blue silk shorts. He reached
for his trousers.

"No, please, let me." Misunderstanding, Ishmael took the trousers from him
and carefully hung them in the closet, adjusting the creases so they would
hang perfectly. He turned back to Jimmy and rocked nervously back and forth
on the balls of his feet, unsure of what he was doing. "I
am... sorry... for you," he said finally. "It must be... difficult. If..."
He fumbled with his belt buckle, "You are lonely?" The question hung in the
air like an actual thing, like a caged animal waiting to be released.

Jimmy stepped forward and embraced Ishmael, hugging him close. "Thank
you. You are... No, not yet. There hasn't been enough time."

Ishmael kissed him on the lips. "You will tell me when you are ready," he
said, sounding for all the world like Shareff.

Jimmy stepped back. "Yes, I will tell you." Before he could say anything
else Ishmael was gone.

Back home he cruised the bars and sometimes even the streets, looking for a
man who could excite him enough to make him hard but no matter how
attractive the man, it didn't work. Sometimes, if the man was gentle and
kind, Jimmy would turn over and invite the man inside him but it was
nothing more than accommodation; he took no pleasure from it. The man was
never Doug.

He was not completely impotent though, far from it. When he was alone he
masturbated incessantly, sometimes in marathon sessions that lasted for
hours and ended only when his dick was raw from the friction. He would make
himself come three or four times a night sometimes, crying out with joyless
spurtings, hardly pausing before beginning again. His dick worked well
enough when he was alone although it gave him no real pleasure.

It was during this time that he decided to sell the warehouse. The
insurance had paid off the mortgage and the place was suddenly worth a lot
of money to him. More importantly, he hated it. He called David Langford
and David agreed to look at the place again, this time with an eye to
converting the whole thing into condos. With the buildings across the river
now torn down and replaced with a park and low-rise shopping and
entertainment complex, luxury condos would fetch a handsome price.

It was about this time too that Jimmy moved KBK out of the warehouse and
into a high-rise office building in the center of town. He justified the
move by saying the office should be closer to their clients. He also moved
himself, into a brand new apartment on the thirty-seventh floor of a
building two blocks from his new offices. He didn't bother to justify that
move to anyone.

He took very little from the penthouse when he moved. He did take the
marble torso his dad had given them and he took his clothes of course, and
all of Doug's underwear which he'd recently taken to wearing. Everything
else he sent to storage except for the bed, which he had destroyed.

He didn't sleep well during that period and spent sixteen or eighteen hours
a day in the office. Then he discovered the bars with back rooms. He'd
stopped at a new bar one night and, after three or four drinks went looking
for the rest room. He saw several men go through a door at the back of the
place so he followed them. It turned out to be the men's room all right but
it clearly wasn't the rest room; it was a good sized room, almost
completely dark and heady with the smell of men and sex. He became hard
before the first hand had reached out of the darkness to fondle him. The
hand undid his fly and dug out his cock and then someone whispered in his
ear, "Man, that's a nice one." There was a little flurry of movement and
someone took him in their mouth. He came before they'd sucked him all the
way in.

He went to the bar every night that week and spent the whole time in the
back room. Some of the men there told him about some other bars that had
back rooms too, and he went to them, filling his nights with anonymous
sex. It wasn't love but it felt good and he thought that to be more than he
was entitled to.

Jimmy managed to tear himself away from the back rooms--and a couple of sex
clubs he'd discovered--to meet his father at the lake for the Fourth of
July. Jim, when he first saw Jimmy at the airport, thought he looked
tried--almost haggard--but he didn't say anything. It was obvious that
Jimmy was still having a hard time with Doug's death.

On the other hand, Jimmy thought his dad looked marvelous. He was tan and
fit and obviously happy. Shareff, standing beside him, looked just as good
and, if anything, happier; no one would ever dream that they were sixty
years old.

"We can only stay until the eighth," Jim said on the way to the lake. "We
have to be in Paris on the ninth."

"That idiot son-in-law of mine managed to get himself appointed ambassador
to Turkey. Or rather Marta managed to get him appointed. Turkey! Can you
imagine? She'll be at the house every week, making things over, changing
everything." He shook his head. "I'll probably loose Dalton over her. He
won't put up with interference in his household."

Jim twisted around in the seat. "Poor Shareff, it can't be that bad, can
it?"

"You don't know her like I do, James. It's that bad and worse. She takes
over everything she sees. God how I wish I'd had sons."

Jim patted Jimmy on the leg. "I will say, a son can be a great joy."

Jimmy returned the pat. "Yea, after they get over being a pain in the ass."

Jim winked at his son. "I admit you've been a pain sometimes Jimmy, but
you've never been a pain there."

Jimmy was facing forward so Shareff didn't see the color rise in his
cheeks.

That night, with Shareff sleeping in Jim's bed, Jimmy should have slept in
his room, the one he'd shared for so long with Doug, but he couldn't bring
himself to do it; he made up the sofa on the screen porch. Ever since he
began to sleep alone--he never allowed himself to think of it as 'since
Doug died'--he'd had trouble getting to sleep. Even when he was exhausted
after a long night in the back rooms of the bars he couldn't get to sleep
easily so he'd taken to reading before he went to bed. Reading had the
added advantage of often putting him to sleep in his chair so he didn't
have to go to bed at all.

At first light, Jim, always an early riser, went downstairs to make coffee
and found Jimmy asleep with a book in his lap. The sheet and pillow laid
out on the sofa told the rest of the story. He went into the kitchen with a
heavy heart; his son, his lover, was in pain and he didn't know how to help
him.

The smell of the coffee woke Jimmy and he went in to see who was up. He
found his dad in the kitchen, his back to the door, watching the coffee
drip into the pot. Jimmy stood silently for a moment, looking at his
father. If anything, he thought, his father looked better naked than he did
in clothes. His back was straight and strong and his ass rounded and firm
looking--and it still dimpled when he moved. His legs were good too, with
firm thighs and thick, rounded calves. His skin was a smooth, even tan, the
result of being naked in the sun much of the time.

Jimmy made a noise, letting his father know he was there so he wouldn't be
startled. "Coffee ready?" he asked when Jim turned around.

They took their coffee outside and walked along the lake hand in hand,
Jimmy in his shorts and tee shirt from the night before, Jim naked.

"You're eventually going to have to sleep up there, you know," Jim said not
looking at Jimmy.

"I know. I will. Just... not yet."

"The longer you wait, the harder it's going to be."

"I guess. You want to swim? I'll race you to the float." Jimmy threw off
his shorts and shirt and dashed into the water. As soon as it was deep
enough he dived and swam for as long as he could under water where it was
cool and dark. His dad was waiting when he got to the float, hanging onto
the rope ladder.

Jimmy put his arms around Jim's neck and kissed him. Jim slipped his arms
through the ladder and pulled Jimmy close. "I hate to see you hurting like
this," Jim said through the kiss.

"It's getting better," Jimmy said, wrapping his legs around his dad. "Every
day."

Jim's body responded to the kiss and he felt his dick rise up. Jimmy felt
it too. He lowered his legs, trapping it between them, his balls resting on
it. He let go of the ladder with one hand and found a nipple, causing his
dad to buck forward with the pleasure of it.

"Jimmy, are you sure..." Jimmy's tongue pushed into his mouth and cut him
off. Jim didn't quite know what to do. Jimmy had taken control, was moving
himself back and forth on Jim's cock and pushing him slowly up that
mountain of pleasure. It was almost like that first time except... Jim
could feel Jimmy's cock brush against his belly and he knew it was soft and
drawn up in itself. He wanted to cry for the boy but he knew Jimmy would
hate that.

Jimmy began to whisper in Jim's ear, describing Jim's dick and telling him
how it felt, thrusting between his thighs. In spite of himself Jim began to
respond.

"You're going to make me come, son." Jim could feel it, snaking up from his
balls.

"I want to make you come, dad. I love you." Jimmy pressed his legs together
tighter.

Jim growled and kissed Jimmy, his darting tongue mimicking the spasms in
his dick as it shot a load of cum between Jimmy's legs. The pleasure was
there but diminished by the pain he knew his son felt.

They climbed up on the float and lay in the early morning sun, letting it
dry them. "There's Shareff," Jimmy said after a while, waiving. Jim called
to him and asked him to bring the coffee out.

"Have you told him?" Jimmy asked, watching Shareff go back into the house.

"Not yet. It hasn't... come up."

"Don't. There's no real point in it." Jimmy's face bore no trace of
expression.

Jim didn't know what to say so he said nothing. They watched in silence as
Shareff loaded the coffee thermos and mugs onto the paddle board and swam
out to them.

The three of them sat cross-legged in the sun and talked and ate the little
pastries Shareff had brought out to go with the coffee. Somehow Shareff got
off on the subject of his daughter again.

"If she's so bad, why does he stay with her?" Jimmy asked.

Shareff grinned wickedly. "Because he likes it."

"He likes it?" Jim shook his head as though in disbelief.

"Yes. I know this because I had him investigated." He shrugged. "When you
are rich and your daughter is neither as beautiful nor as charming as she
might be, you are naturally curious about the man who wishes to marry
her. So it was with Anton. I had a man see what he was all about."

Jimmy refilled their coffee cups. "And?"

"And he is very much like all men except for one little thing: he used to
visit a woman, a very high priced woman, who would make him do things to
her and then would spank him when he did not please her." Shareff grinned
again, obviously enjoying the story. "My man saw him once, afterwards, in
the shower at his club. His ass was quite red and bruised and it obviously
pained him greatly but on his face was a look of bliss."

"So now Marta beats him up?"

"Not with a paddle or whip; he still visits a professional for that, thank
God. But with her tongue, yes, she beats him. And when he doesn't do as she
wishes she punishes him, she locks him out of the bedroom and ridicules him
in front of the servants. For some reason this drives him to make greater
achievements. I am told she once called him impotent and disinterested in
women and that afterward he made love to her for most of the night, with a
great deal of noise." He looked at Jim and laughed. "Can you imagine her,
making love with noise?"

Jim laughed too. "No Shareff, I can't quite manage that one."

Shareff turned serious. "Well, she is my daughter but I will not have her
beating me with her tongue. And in my own house, too."

"What're you going to do, lock the doors?" Jimmy asked.

Shareff moved to sit behind Jim, straddling him with his legs and putting
his arms around him. "No, of course I cannot do that. But, with James' kind
permission, we can go away. We shall find a new place to live while Anton
is in Ankara."

Jim twisted his head around and kissed Shareff on the cheek. "We shall live
wherever you wish. Just so long as Ozala comes along to cook." Ozala ran
the kitchen at Shareff's house in Turkey and Jim had fallen in love with
her cooking.

"I would imagine Ozala would accompany us, as would Dalton and perhaps
Ishmael."

Jimmy was glad for Ishmael. He'd been quite touched by him at Christmas.

Two days later, saying good bye at the airport, Shareff hugged Jimmy and
whispered quickly in his ear, "Please be careful. Your fathers love you."

-------------
As always, comments, suggestions and criticisms will be gratefully received.

Greg
jg.ps@gte.net