Date: Thu, 26 Dec 2002 11:35:04 +0000 From: guess who? Subject: Anthony's Orgasms 2 "ANTHONY'S ORGASMS" by Bambino Author's disclaimer: The following a work of fiction. All characters are fictitious; any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Any descriptions of adults and minors engaged in sexual activities are imaginary and bear no relation to real events. The subject matter of this story is pure fantasy and is not intended as a representation of the author's lifestyle or ideology. As a work of literature this story is protected under the First Amendment to the Constitution of the United States of America. The author retains the copyright on this work. Distribution or posting of this work without the author's permission is a violation of that copyright. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ CHAPTER TWO Howard had told himself not to be surprised if Anthony didn't make their rendezvous, and he wasn't. Surprised no, but -- alas -- disappointed yes. But by 3:35, loitering around in front of Hotgames, rubbernecking at every approaching figure with a look of poignant expectancy, Howard felt like a fool and decided to give up the ghost. Over the span of the previous half-hour the hope that the boy were simply characteristically tardy had gradually leaked away, leaving in its place a kind of melancholy residue. Howard forced himself to face facts: clearly the boy wasn't going to show up. And it was probably for the best. Having swallowed this bitter pill, Howard turned around to leave and there he was. "Sup," Anthony said brightly. "It's you," he said haltingly. "I thought you'd stood me up." "Nah... my mom wouldn't let me leave!" "Oh... I guess you got away anyway?" "Yeah, finally her boyfriend came and picked her up." "I see." "So I got here as quick as I could." "Glad you made it. So... want to help me pick out some games?" "Aiight!" Howard followed him into the store. Today Anthony's gear was heavier and less revealing than it had been the other day. He wore the usual baggy, oversize jeans which to Howard more resembled a duffel bag, with the left leg rolled up. His sneakers (size 7, Howard guessed) looked like spaceships, and had lights in the heels which flickered every time Anthony took a step. The muscleman tank top had been replaced with a pullover, also several sizes too big. Howard sighed... gone were the days when boys proudly displayed their bodies in tight shorts, midriff shirts, mesh jerseys... "Ohhh!" breathed Anthony fervently, coming to a display rack. "This one just came out! It's the bomb!" As Anthony turned his head Howard noticed that the boy's thug ensemble was accented with a new affectation: a small gold earring glinted at his left earlobe. The ornament, which should have looked outrageous on a boy so young and small, merely emphasized Anthony's unique brand of rakish sophistication. More baubles, thought Howard. What is it about these ghetto boys and costume jewelry? They like anything that glitters, just like crows... Twenty minutes later the pair crossed the mall parking lot, Howard darting nervous glances over both shoulders every few steps. "Are you sure it's okay with your mom to come over? I mean I wouldn't want anybody to think you'd run away or anything..." "Nah, it's cool," Anthony reassured him with his urban streetwise self-possession. "She gets home late from her boyfriend's if she don't spend the night with him." "Nobody else at home checks up on you?" "There ain't nobody else at home. Just me and my mom." "No brothers or sisters?" "I got a big sister -- well, she's a half-sister, she lives with her dad." "All right... just making sure. Here we are." "Ohhh!" Anthony said again, gawking at Howard's car. "You got a Lexus? Daaaaamn, you rich, huh?" Howard laughed. "Hardly. It's an old clunker." "Yeah, right." The drive was a test of nerves. Howard kept lookout in the rear-view mirror for any familiar cars. As they neared his neighborhood he felt the butterflies in his stomach turn to vampire bats, screeching and flapping around in his guts... Get ahold of yourself, he thought bracingly, you're not guilty of anything yet! Anthony was blithely unperturbed, as if jumping into the car of a strange man he had met only yesterday, and going home with him, were nothing to inspire trepidation. He was far more preoccupied with Howard's hi-fi system, which regrettably lacked a CD player, depriving him of playing the hip-hop CD he had produced from one of the many pockets of his pants. Howard gave silent thanks that his ears were thus spared abuse, but also jotted down a mental note: Portable CD player for Anthony's birthday. "So how old are you, Anthony?" "Twelve." "Oh yeah? When do you become a teen?" "November 18th." "Ahh... Scorpio, eh?" "Yup." Howard had neither interest nor credence in astrology, but he allowed himself to wonder whether this beautiful boy would evince the Scorpio traits in bed... Would he be determined, forceful, passionate, ruthless in his pursuit of satisfaction? Howard's loins joined his viscera in stirring... The streets began to climb, the suburb becoming more manicured. Neat lawns and picket fences swam by; at last they arrived at the cul-de-sac where Howard's brick-fronted house stood at the back of a lovingly tended garden. "Here we are, kiddo." Anthony gaped anew. "This is where you live?" "Uh-huh." "This is your house? For real?" "Yeah." "See, I told you'z rich." "Rich is relative. Compared to Bill Gates, I'm striving after every last crumb. Compared to some Patagonian aborigine, I'm doing okay." "Compared to me you're rich," Anthony said simply. "I get my clothes at K-Mart." Mental note, thought Howard: take Anthony shopping at the Gap. Then he scratched it out and appended: Wait a while on that -- looks too suspicious. "Welcome to my humble abode," said Howard as they entered. Anthony ahhed and oohed, then took a running jump at one of the huge beanbag chairs in the center of the living room. He sank into it, sighing blissfully. "So where's your Playstation?" the boy asked. "In the den downstairs," said Howard. "I haven't set it up yet -- it's been waiting for you to come alive." "Cool!" Fifteen minutes later Anthony sat cross-legged before the wide-screen TV in Howard's den, careening through a high-speed video landscape obliterating everything in sight with a chain gun. Howard, sitting back on the sofa with a bottle of grapefruit cocktail in hand, watched with eyes going slightly strabic. A simple formula for happiness, he thought. He'll be at this for hours... No wonder parents approve of this stuff -- it's the perfect babysitter. Howard attempted to engage his juvenescent guest in conversation, and for a while they carried on a fragmented dialogue. Howard learned what he already suspected about the boy's life. His mental log kept up its note-taking. Broken home. Lives with scatty, promiscuous mother. Father unknown or else forgotten. Half-sister virtually a stranger. Anthony already delinquent in school, in danger of flunking 7th grade. Suspended every other month for this or that, seems to regard "Juvy"with a blend of fear and romantic curiosity. Boys who have been to "Juvy" wear their terms as a badge of merit. Mother drinks. Substances too? "So why were you suspended from school, Anthony?" Howard ventured. "This time?" "Yeah, I guess." "Cuz of something I said to a girl." Anthony's adept fingers clicked and pummeled the game controller, never missing a lick. "Oh...? What did you say?" "I axed her what cup size she wears. Daaaamn, he shot me -- you saw that?" "And they suspended you for that?" "Yup." "Jesus." Oh, to be a teenage girl... what easy rewards life would bring. "Sucks, huh?" "Sure does. Got a girlfriend?" "Nah." Whew. "Haven't met Ms. Right yet?" "Girls are too expensive." So are boys. "I see your point." "You gotta pay for the movie, buy them food, everything! Check this part out right here, I'ma bust out the flame thrower." "So I guess for now you're dating Rosy Palm and her five sisters, huh?" Watch it, pal. "Huh?" There was no turning back; he had to go through with it. "Aw, you know... Rosy Palm. Look." Anthony turned and Howard help up his hand. "Rose Palm, and her five sisters... one-two-three-four-five." "Oh..." Anthony said, as understanding dawned. He laughed uneasily, turned back to the TV screen. Shit, thought Howard. Game over. "You got a girlfriend?" asked Anthony. "Nope." "Married?" "Nope." "How come?" Howard grinned. "Well, if I'm rich, like you say, then that's why. I get to keep it all for myself." "How you mean?" "No wife or kids to support. Just me." "Ohhh... Heh! So you wanna learn how to play?" "Ahh... well, I'm kinda tired right now. I'll just watch you do it. Next time you can show me, and we'll play doubles." "Okay. You got a computer too, huh?" "Sure do." "After this lemme go on the internet, I know some mad porno sites." Howard choked on his grapefruit cocktail. "You aiight?" asked Anthony. "Y -- " sputtered Howard, hacking for breath. "Yeah... I'm fine... just went down the wrong way." "So... will you let me?" Oh God help me. "Gee, Anthony... you know I could get in serious trouble for that." "How?" the boy's voice was disparaging, ironic. "If anybody found out I was having you over, looking up porn on my computer..." "Like who's gonna find out?" "I dunno... if you told someone about it and it got around..." "Who am I gonna tell?" "Who knows -- one of your friends?" Anthony clicked his tongue against his teeth sarcastically. "Well I have no problem with it personally, and it sounds like you've been there before... but it'll have to be next time, because my internet service is down. I'm changing providers and I'll be back online in a few days." "Damn." Anthony sounded genuinely disappointed. You dumb fuck, thought Howard furiously. This might be your last and only chance! It had been a good excuse, but the real reason was more awkward. Howard's computer desktop was cluttered with porn of another type, which he suspected was not the variety Anthony had in mind. Conceivably, he could excuse himself for a few minutes while Anthony played, clean up his file structure to make it reasonably child-proof, but his office was also a mess and it would mean clearing a path... I gotta get him out of here before I jump his little bones. "It's getting late anyway," said Howard in an apologetic tone. "Next time, you can come over earlier, and have the whole day to surf the net, okay kiddo?" "Thanks." "Sure." "You're cool." Howard gulped. He didn't often associate the word with himself. "Thanks... so are you, Anthony." Forty-five minutes later Howard deposited Anthony back at the mall. "So you've got my phone number," Howard told him. "Call me if you want to come over again next weekend. Call me anytime, night or day." "Okay." "Be good." "Okay. Thanks." "You're welcome. Be careful getting home." "I live right around the block." "See you next week." "Bye. Thanks for letting me come over and play." "Anytime. Bye." "Bye." Anthony took Howard's hand through the motions of his special handshake, the choreography of which still eluded Howard. "Next time," said Howard, smiling ruefully, "you'll have to teach me how to do that too." _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ (To be continued...) The author welcomes feedback: spunkmachine@hotmail.com