by
Part 6: The Young American - II
I didn't take Ciggy's declaration of love too seriously. That was my way. After all, my tricks uttered all kinds of affirmations and avowals in the heat of the fuck. If they were about to bust a nut down my throat, their utterances were just designed to ratchet up the eroticism; declarations of love borne of the urgency to unload their fuckwad as deep into my boycunt as possible. It was kackminded to take their vocalizations at face value.
But that is not to say that I didn't enjoy being with Ciggy. I did. He was very pleasant. What I liked about Ciggy in particular was that he seemed to value closeness and intimacy, and he was very good at being affectionate without it ever turning into anything sexual. You see, he couldn't fuck me. His encounter with me didn't revolve around him seeking to fuck my little ass or bust his wad all over me. Indeed, that was what made him special. The very fact that he was incapable of even getting an erection allowed me to appreciate all the things that were usually peripheral to the sexual act, the things that were usually relegated to secondary importance, like hugging, kissing or just simply lying there together.
He had paid to spend the night with me, so that's what he did. After our shared shower, we laid on my bed just yammering, with our hair still wet. He chewed another couple of sticks of gum, then eventually fell asleep. We were both laying on top of my bed naked, and he had dozed off with one arm at his side, and the other around my shoulders. I was lying next to him on my side, way down with my head on his chest. I quite enjoyed resting my head on his smooth chest, beneath which I could detect the perfect pattern of his ribs. The rise and fall of his breathing induced a strange kind of peaceful lull that was almost rocking me to sleep. I glanced up and noticed that he was very still and his eyes had gently closed. And that was how I slept with him, in the protective embrace of this handsome, softly spoken young American.
In the morning, when the early dawn sunlight was just starting to penetrate the dusty sackcloth over the window that passed as a makeshift blind, I decided to get up. Quietly, I sat up and loosened his arm from around my shoulder, and gently placed it back down on the bed by his side. He stirred a little, but didn't wake up. I decided to go into the next room so I wouldn't wake him up. I felt like pottering about for a bit. I went over to the writing desk and saw that Ciggy had left his knapsack on the chair. I went to lift it off and realized it was quite heavy. There was something quite hard and cumbersome in there. So I looked inside. It seemed the knapsack was full of tools. There was a claw hammer, a wrench, some pliers and a pair of wire cutters. The largest item of all was a rather fearsome looking set of bolt cutters, with quite a long handle. I wondered what he did with all this stuff. In the bottom of the bag was a little cashbox with a hammered metal finish and a handle in the lid. It sounded like it was full of stuff, metal objects, something like coins. It was pretty weighty. This strange collection of objects aroused my curiosity. I had naturally assumed he was just another mercenary, so I didn't really understand what he was doing with all these tools.
As the sun rose and morning arrived properly, I went and brought us both some breakfast from the kitchen. I nipped down the passageway and grabbed some fresh croissants and a little pot of coffee and brought them into my room for us to share. I spread everything out on the bed and when he woke up he had a nice surprise. He rose up, still naked, and we sat there across from each other, cross-legged on the bed, and shared the spoils. He simply smiled and poured the coffee into two tin mugs. That was what I liked about Ciggy - he was easy to be with. It required no effort to be in his presence. He was just a very nice guy.
So we ate, munching on the still warm croissants, talking about everything and nothing. Then, when it came time for him to go, he dressed slowly and forlornly. I watched him as he pulled on his camouflage tunic, did up his belt with the holstered pistol, and slung his heavy knapsack over one shoulder. I could hear the tools inside clanging together as he did so. That saddened me a little. Tell the truth, I was kinda sorry to see him go.
As he turned towards the door, he suddenly stopped, as though he'd forgotten something.
'Are you doing anything today?' he asked.
I hesitated, caught a little off guard.
'I have nothing planned,' I said, 'Why?'
'Let me take you out,' he suddenly enthused.
I flashed him an uncertain grin. I didn't know what he meant.
'Spend the day with me,' he said.
I didn't know what to say. I wasn't very good at spontaneity, especially when it involved venturing outside the compound, but I had to admit his proposal had an air of excitement to it.
'C'mon, let me take you out for the day. My treat.'
'Gee, I dunno,' I said, more than a little apprehensive, 'I don't go out much these days.'
'Pity,' he said, 'We could have a real good time.'
'Last time I went out I was kidnapped,' I said, remembering how the KAPO militiamen had detained me and beat me and did all manner of horrific things to me. They were maniacs, I swear, every one of them.
'I'll look after you,' he said, with a knowing smile, 'You'll be safe with me.'
He meant it too. He seemed so confident and I already felt safe with him. It wasn't a hard decision really. To save me from the unwelcome task of having to see him go, I agreed. I agreed because I wanted to spend more time with him, and I wasn't ready to let him go just yet.
Ciggy stood and watched as I got dressed. I pulled out some clean clothes and he seemed to enjoy watching me put them on. I slipped into clean boxer briefs and then pulled on my knee length cargo shorts and a fresh polo shirt. I quickly ran my fingers through my shaggy hair to smooth it down, as though that was all the grooming I needed, and presented myself to him. He smiled admiringly.
'I almost can't recognize you with your clothes on,' he chuckled.
It was the first time he had seen me dressed. We walked out together. What I liked was that he put an affectionate arm around my shoulders as he led me downstairs and outside into the parking lot. Sitting there, in the dusty courtyard outside that passed as a parking lot for the Club, was a black Jeep Wrangler. It was the only car in the lot. I understood immediately why he had brought his knapsack inside with him - the soft top was removed so the vehicle was totally open to the elements and there was no trunk.
Ciggy watched my reaction.
'You like it?' he asked.
'Yeh, it's great,' I said, beaming.
'Jump in,' said Ciggy, pulling the passenger door open.
So I climbed in, negotiating the high step up into the vehicle. Ciggy slung the knapsack into the narrow space behind the passenger seat and then he climbed in next to me. He reached over and opened the glove box and took out a little pack of gum. He withdrew two sticks of gum and put one between my lips. I accepted it with a smile. Then he stuck the other in his mouth. There was a pair of sunglasses in the glove-box which he also took and, using both hands, he carefully put them on me. He looked over at me wearing his sunglasses and he seemed to be admiring me. I liked wearing his sunglasses, and I was flattered that he wanted me to wear them. It was such an affectionate gesture and I liked the way Ciggy did things for me.
Turning to the controls, Ciggy fired up the engine, and he gunned it a couple of times. It growled under the hood of the tiny car, and he seemed to get real pleasure from the sound it made.
'Now hold on tight,' he said, with a grin, 'you're gonna get a real rollercoaster ride.'
He wasn't kidding. The little car moved off with a jolt, and he swerved it tightly through the gate of the parking lot, weaving between the metal posts with only inches to spare. Once into the road, Ciggy put his foot down and we left the hotel behind at great speed. There was virtually no other traffic on the roads. There were very few civilian cars, mainly because the supply of gasoline was so restricted. So the only vehicles we passed were the distinctive white vehicles of UNVERO, sometimes Humvees, sometimes open trucks, the odd APC. There was a low-loader with tanks on it, and even a very long missile launcher. Everywhere was the feeling of confrontation and war. The UN was supposed to be keeping the peace and monitoring the truce in Verolino. Supposedly it was protected against invasion by the UN mandate. But the fact that the UN were a prime target for the rebel militias, who didn't recognize the mandate in any case, also made the UN presence something of a liability.
Leaving the compound of the hotel for the first time in many weeks, I'd almost forgotten what the outside world looked like. Not that it was very inspiring of course. There was still a lot of shell damaged and demolished buildings. Soon we were travelling at high speed over open roads, where the odd house-front or porch flashed by. I sat there in the open car, which was quite high off the ground, giving me a feeling of detachment. With Ciggy's confident hands at the wheel, I felt quite invulnerable. Every now and then we would pass a house that had been burned out and had been left as an empty shell. Even those that were still intact had the tell-tale signs of heavy shelling, that had gouged pockmarks into the brickwork. That was the problem with Verolino. The signs of war were never far away. Everywhere you went there were reminders of conflict and death and destruction.
Presently, we entered a village that seemed almost deserted. The irregular and random little villas that lined both sides of the bare highway were quite spaced out from each other and set well back from the road. This village itself seemed to have been spared the ravages of war and actually looked quite intact. There were ribbons of smoke rising from the odd chimney, and even washing hanging on the clothes lines, as though life was carrying on very much the same as before.
Ciggy slowed down as we entered the village, negotiating a few narrow, twisting lanes, heading straight for what seemed like the center of the village. The road eventually led out into a flat, open area, like a little piazza. There were a lot of people around. The piazza was surrounded by tall, imposing buildings that looked very old. At the far end was a church, and looked to be the tallest building for miles around. Along one side of the piazza there were a few market stalls with awnings thrown loosely over them to provide some shade, and some dejected market traders were selling some sorry looking fruits and vegetables. A lot of would-be purchasers were ambling about, gingerly fingering the produce. Ciggy slowed right down and maneuvered the open car through the center of the little marketplace, negotiating the crowds of oblivious pedestrians. I felt very privileged sitting there gliding through this little sea of people that was milling around us.
'We're here,' Ciggy announced, impatiently sounding the horn a few times.
'Where are we?' I asked, looking around a little disorientated.
Ciggy didn't bother answering me. We scythed through the crowd and he stopped the Jeep at the end of the marketplace, just by the broad, flat steps of the church and jumped out. I was more than a little ruffled by Ciggy's erratic driving style, so somewhat relieved to get out and step back onto terra firma. Because the car was so high off the ground, I realized that you tended to feel the twists and turns a lot more, and got thrown around a lot. Something to do with the vehicle's center of gravity, I figured.
Ciggy just took my hand, and pulled me away. He didn't seem at all concerned about being seen with me, and him openly holding hands with a 12 year old boy wasn't going to cause any consternation. This was Verolino, after all.
Next to the church was a little parade of shops. One was a café which had an open forecourt. There were a few round tables with brightly colored parasols. Ciggy pulled up one of the metal chairs for me, and he left me sitting at one of the tables while he went straight inside. I could see him chatting animatedly with the proprietor. They shook hands and greeted each other loudly and enthusiastically. It seemed they knew each other. I could see the proprietor, an older man with wiry grey hair and a long apron, glance over towards me approvingly.
Ciggy came and sat down and handed me a laminated menu.
'Here,' he said, 'what will you have to drink?'
'You mean I can order anything I like?' I asked.
'Yup,' Ciggy nodded, 'Or let me order something for you.'
Looking over the menu, there was some fascinating and delicious sounding stuff on it. It was inconceivable to me that even in this state of war, when so many basic things were in short supply, there was still some semblance of normality in Verolino.
I noticed that, instead of sitting down opposite me, on the other side of the table, Ciggy pulled up a chair right next to me, so that we were both on one side of the table looking out into the piazza. I quite liked the way he stayed so close to me.
Ciggy ordered me a big milky drink. It was cool and frothy and came in a tall flared glass with a long bendy straw.
'What is it?' I asked, as it was placed before me, amazed at how big it was.
'It's a milkshake,' said Ciggy.
'Oh,' I said, impressed, 'I've read about these.'
Ciggy laughed.
'You've READ about them?' he exclaimed, 'But you've never HAD one?'
I shook my head, almost embarrassed by my ignorance. I took a long draw of the drink through the straw. It was very sweet and delicious. Ciggy seemed to enjoy watching me drink it. Every now and then Ciggy would take a sip of his coffee from a big round cup, which looked almost as big as a soup bowl, and he would glance over at me and just smile affectionately.
When I had polished off most of the milkshake, I found I could get no more through the straw. Frustratingly, it wasn't long enough to reach the very bottom of the tall glass, so I discarded the straw and tipped the glass to my lips and drank what was left. That left me with a little white moustache on my top lip. I could see my reflection in the polished steel of the table top. Ciggy thought that was funny, and he lovingly leaned over and wiped my lips with his fingers. That seemed like such a caring and affectionate gesture, and as I sat there with him, I wondered if this is what normal 12 year old boys did. I wondered if this is what it felt like to be taken out by a father or an older brother and whether this is how my life should have been. I wondered if 12 year old boys really were meant to be fucked by older men, instead of just being looked after by them, and whether they were meant to drink Black Deaths instead of milkshakes. I liked sitting there with Ciggy, shaded by the big parasol, watching the passers by, still wearing his sunglasses. I don't know why, but in Ciggy's presence I didn't feel so grown up anymore. I just felt like a little boy.
As we sat there, I could see Ciggy casting a wary and watchful eye on the Jeep, which was only a short distance away from where we sat, probably because his knapsack was still in there. It wasn't until then that I was curious enough to probe Ciggy about what he did with all that stuff, so I asked him about the tools in his knapsack.
'What do you use them for?' I asked.
He watched me for a moment before answering, clearly contemplating an appropriate response.
'I collect up people's jewelry,' he said, fixing me with an intense stare, 'Gold rings, earrings, chains, bracelets, anything they won't be needing anymore.'
'You mean they just GIVE you their jewelry?' I asked, puzzled.
Again he laughed.
'Hardly,' he said, somewhat amused, 'they're dead.'
I blinked, not sure if I'd heard him right.
'You mean, you rob the bodies of the dead?'
'Well I can't very well ask permission,' he countered, with a laugh.
I stopped still and regarded him with a slight air of suspicion. He evidently noted my change of expression.
'Don't look so horrified,' he said, 'I just recycle their accessories. Pity to let them go to waste. If it wasn't me, it would be somebody else.'
'So why do you need the tools?' I asked, still intrigued.
'Some things are not that easy to remove,' he explained.
'You cut the rings off people's fingers?' I asked, horrified.
'Nah!' he said, in a derogatory tone, 'That would be silly. If I can't get their rings off I just cut their fingers off.'
I stared at him for a good few seconds, trying to reconcile the realization of how this beautiful, pleasant, baby-faced young man had more or less admitted to being something akin to a grave-robber. But I decided not to judge him. We all did things that were maybe anathema to some. I didn't like it when people judged me, so I resolved not to do it to him. These were troubled times and I knew we all just had to do what we needed to do to survive.
'What are you going to do with it?' was all I could think to ask.
'That lil bundle o' treasure is gonna be my ticket outta here,' he said, 'I'm gonna sell it on the black market and buy a seat on that transporter. Then I'll be outta this hell-hole for good.'
'Will you go back to Kansas?' I asked.
'Yup. I've got it all worked out,' he enthused, leaning towards me, 'I'm gonna get that transporter to the Incirlik airbase in Turkey, then I'll buy myself a seat on a regular scheduled flight back to the US.'
As his enthusiasm trailed off, there was silence. He watched me for a few seconds, cocking his head admiringly as we both assimilated what he had just said.
'Does that shock you lil man?'
'A little,' I said, 'But I know how it is.'
He looked reassured.
'Sure you do,' he said, and he stroked my head in a very affectionate and sympathetic way.
I noticed how he rested his arm along the back of my chair, almost as though he was placing it protectively around me, and as he sat next to me he stared at me quite intensely. It was exactly the same look he had given me when we stepped out of the shower last night.
'What?' I said, a little unnerved by his staring at such close proximity.
'I dunno Cloud,' he said, 'When I look at you, it just makes me wanna…'
I waited.
'Wanna what?'
'…do things to you,' he concluded.
We both burst out laughing. It was meant as a compliment, but it was easy to see the irony of his remark, bearing in mind he was impotent. Actually, I thought it was quite quaint that he was able to laugh about it. We both allowed ourselves a gentle, rolling laughter that went on for a good few minutes, and when it was over, he turned to me again and put a hand under my chin, turning my face towards him.
'Y' know Cloud, I've lost count of the number of times you've made me laugh today.'
I stared up at him, genuinely touched, and there was a moment of seriousness where our eyes met and I saw, just for a split second, right into this young man's soul. I saw him for what he really was - just a very nice guy - and I remember thinking that it was one of the nicest things anyone had ever said to me.
There were lots of moments like that on the day I spent with Ciggy. The nicest was when he took me out into the surrounding countryside and brought a picnic along. Before we left the café, Ciggy had the proprietor prepare a little package of goodies for our lunch, and he carefully placed the wrapped bundle in the back of the Jeep. Then we drove for ages, through narrow winding rural roads where we hardly encountered another vehicle. We were so far out into the countryside there was nothing but endless fields, trees and hedgerows. Our journey down these deserted little roads was punctuated only by the odd hare darting across the road.
Ciggy eventually pulled the Jeep off the road and into a meadow, and we were both jiggled about in our seats as the car negotiated the bumps in the terrain. He halted the car under the shade of a copse that was well away from the road. Here, he decided we would stop for lunch. Totally in his care, I watched him as he unloaded everything from the car. He spread out a little tarpaulin on the ground and set about placing the food at the center. He had even thought to bring plates and cutlery, which he had borrowed from the café. There was plenty of food and even a bottle of red wine. The café proprietor had thoughtfully uncorked it and stuck the cork back into the bottle for him.
When everything was laid out temptingly on the tarpaulin, Ciggy looked at me expectantly.
'It's ready,' he announced.
I looked at him, not sure what to do.
'What is it?' I asked.
'It's a picnic,' he replied.
'Oh,' I said.
'Don't tell me, you've READ about them?' he laughed, alluding to my relative unworldliness in such matters.
I smiled sheepishly. He wasn't far from the truth. I had never had a picnic.
So we both sat cross-legged on the tarpaulin and he served me with a piece of chicken breast that looked like it had been flavored with something that made it look reddish-brown. There was also a salad with a mayonnaise dressing. He had even poured me a little red wine into a small tumbler.
'What is this?' I asked.
'Paprika chicken and Russian salad,' he said, 'It's mixing nationalities a bit, but I've kept it European.'
I didn't know what he was talking about. I only knew the chicken tasted good.
I ate a lot that afternoon. The food was delicious. And I'm pretty sure I had more than one tumbler of wine. It was difficult to tell because Ciggy kept topping it up. Later, when I was sated and happy, and slightly tipsy from the wine, I stretched out on the grass enjoying the sunshine, appreciating the silence and the solitude. Here we were in the middle of nowhere, the noise and smoke and oppressively hot atmosphere of the Club behind us, nothing but birdsong to break the silence. There were no reminders of the war. It all seemed so far away it could almost have been a different country.
When Ciggy had finished clearing away the remnants of our picnic, he came to lie down with me on the cool grass. He had taken his shirt off, so that he was sitting there in just his tight black pants, no doubt eager to soak up some sunshine. Because of that, to lend some solidarity to his gesture, I decided to take my shirt off too. It was such a warm, sunny day, I wanted to get the full effect. I was so used to being inside, it would be good to feel the sun on my skin. This was the first time in ages that I had ventured beyond the walls of the hotel, and I was determined to exploit my good fortune.
Ciggy affectionately scooted closer to me, seeing I was now shirtless, and he smiled. I knew he liked looking at me. I liked him looking at me. His eyes roved over every contour of my body, as though he was appreciating a fine piece of art, and that made me feel good. He ran an admiring hand over my chest and tummy as I was lying there. His palms stroked my bare skin in a warm and appreciative way, and I knew he was enjoying the feel of me, just like last night when I had played with his dick and he still had the impetus to feel me up, even though he didn't have a hard-on. It felt good. I liked being felt up like that. Then he leaned over and planted a single little kiss right in the centre of my tummy, a short and sweet token of his affection. He scooted down, so that he could lie next to me and rested his head on my tummy. I found that extremely arousing.
You can probably guess what happened next. Yup, Little Cloud stood up to attention. My irrepressible little dick was hard and trying to poke through my cargo shorts, begging for attention. Ciggy's head was right down there, blocking my view, and his big mop of black curls felt soft and downy on my skin. Without warning, and completely unbidden by me, he softly laid a palm over my aching erection, and pressed slowly and sensuously, sending little volts of electricity all through me. The first feeling of pressure against an unbridled erection was heavenly. I moaned softly and squirmed about a bit in the grass. Ciggy squeezed my dick through the fabric of my shorts and, without saying anything, popped the button and opened the front of my pants. Burrowing his hands under the elastic of my boxer briefs, he took out my stiff little dick. I laid there staring up at the sky, and let him do what he wanted. He played with my dick for ages, gently rolling the skin up and down, pinching the head lightly, jacking it softly in his fingertips. It was all just foreplay. I was so horned up I desperately wanted him to jerk it so I could feel the exquisite pleasure of being able to shed my load at someone else's expense. It was always nicer to have somebody else's hand around it.
Ciggy did better than that. With his black hair still brushing my tummy, he closed in and I felt him envelop my little dick in his mouth. I melted with pleasure, and instinctively held onto his head as he sucked. He knew what he was doing. I could feel him pursing his lips around my shaft, bobbing his head on it, and at the same time using his tongue to bring me off. I could feel the slight roughness of his tongue flicking across the sensitive head of my dick, held in place by his lips, captive to the ecstasy being infused into it. I was aware that this act was for me and me alone. It was for my pleasure that he was sacrificing this moment. That made it not only infinitely satisfying - that it was my own dick being pleasured for a change - but also that he wanted to do this for me, and was willingly sucking my dick and balls into his pretty mouth. It was a beautiful moment, because I knew his little blowjob was a token of his affection for me.
It only took a couple of minutes of this almost unbearable pleasure and I was ready to blow. My breaths quickened, and so did his bobbing on my shaft. As I neared orgasm, he tightened the seal in his mouth, creating a vacuum of warm, wetness for my dick, and I knew I was crossing the Rubicon. I was on a collision course with the ultimate pleasure. When my orgasm hit, I couldn't feel my dick. It was buried deep in Ciggy's head. I doubled up in pleasure and pain, and my dick exploded in the most uncompromising way, powerfully pumping my kiddiespunk into Ciggy's willing mouth. He gnawed on it roughly even whilst it was urgently spitting out my meager little load, and he sucked down every drop. It felt like he was drawing the spunkload right out of me, as though his powerful suction was siphoning it from way down in my little hairless balls and for a long few seconds I floated about in a sea of pure bliss. Fuck, it was fantastic.
As I came down from that cum, spent and breathless, Ciggy let my dick go, abandoning my now yielding and slightly wounded little soldier. It fell limply back against my abdomen, wet with his spit, and feeling a little sensitive. He raised his head and slowly turned to look at me, a mischievous smile spreading across his face. I smiled back in gratitude and contentment.
With Ciggy close to me, my libido for the moment sated, I felt safe and happy. The afternoon heat and the wine made me very drowsy. I was so at peace, I felt like going to sleep. I closed my eyes and I think I fell into a really deep sleep, the kind of sleep that was restful and carefree, unfettered by the usual rigors and obligations of my life, and was characterized instead by a feeling of being totally trouble free. With Ciggy right there next to me, I think I slept more peacefully that afternoon than I had done in years.
When I woke up again, I found we were both lying in the grass, staring up at the blue sky. We were enjoying an idyllic moment, when suddenly something caught my eye in the distance. It was the dark silhouette of an aircraft flying very low and very fast just above the horizon.
'Tankbuster!' I announced.
Ciggy looked up, from where his head had been lying on my bare tummy, and he flashed me a somewhat bemused expression.
'Tankbuster,' I said again, pointing towards the horizon.
Ciggy looked and he just caught sight of the jet as it came closer.
'A10 Thunderbolt,' I said.
Ciggy turned back to me, with a hand shielding his eyes from the glare of the afternoon sun.
'You sure?' he asked.
'Of course,' I replied, 'I see them all the time.'
I did too. I recognized all the coalition aircraft, and most of the rebel ones as well. The A10 was quite unique, with its squared wingtips, double tailfins and those particularly distinctive rear-mounted engines.
'Then it's one of ours,' he said, 'Probably enforcing the no-fly zone.'
He was right. It had US Air Force markings. We both watched it for a few moments, both of us tracking it as it zipped across our horizon at great speed and disappeared into the distance. Then when it was gone, Ciggy looked back at me.
'Y'know, you're quite a clever kid,' he said.
Ordinarily, I didn't like being called a kid. Usually it was a word people used to belittle me, to emphasize my unworldliness and make me feel small. But it was different when Ciggy said it. When Ciggy said it, it was a compliment and a term of affection.
'You remind me so much of Allie.'
'Who's Allie?'
Ciggy looked at me, but made no attempt to reply, almost as though he hadn't anticipated that I would ask him that.
'Allie was my lil brother,' he said, and he turned away, looking down, as though it touched off some painful recollection.
He sighed gently, staring down at the grass for a bit, and then looked back up at me.
'Allie is no longer with us,' he said, sadly.
'What happened to him?' I asked.
'He drowned,' said Ciggy, plainly.
I thought he was going to leave it there and say no more. But he didn't. He continued.
'It was about two years ago now. Just before the war kicked off. I took him to the lake one day. We did that a lot. Camping out under the stars, just Allie and me. He was a great kid. We were very close. We had a great day shooting and fishing, like we always did. I was cooking over the campfire, and Allie decided he wanted to go swimming. He loved diving down under the surface, fishing for stones. He was a really good diver too. He was always showing off for me. I could watch Allie for hours. But he was diving down amongst the rocks and got his foot caught. I couldn't save him. I tried and tried, but his foot was stuck and by the time I managed to pull him free he was gone. I laid him down on the edge of the lake and he was lifeless. I can still remember his perfect body, lying there looking so peaceful. Like he was asleep. Just like he was asleep. But I couldn't revive him. I tried. He was a beautiful kid too. Just lying there, looking like he was gonna wake up any minute. But he never did.'
Ciggy's words trailed off and he looked at me. I wondered how much this young man must have trusted me to share something so personal with me. His story touched something deep inside me, the way he said it, the way he talked so wistfully of this little boy who was his brother. I looked at him and I actually didn't mind letting him see the tears in my eyes. He smiled sympathetically.
'Its okay Cloud,' he said softly, 'Don't cry lil man.'
And with that he leaned over and hugged me. He sniffed too, and I could detect that even he was having trouble holding back the tears. In that moment, as he held me in his embrace, comforting me, it struck me that I had never been held like that by a guy before - being hugged with real affection and in a non-sexual way. It was odd. Odd, but nice.
'Funny,' he said, as he held me tightly against him, his chin on my shoulder, 'That's what I used to call Allie. Lil man.'
Then he broke his embrace and leaned back, still holding onto me, but looking earnestly into my eyes.
'You're my lil man now,' he said, with a smile.
I thought that was nice - not that he was thinking of me as a replacement for his dead little brother - but that he should think me worthy of that very same term of endearment.
'He would have been your age now if he was still alive. Heh, I think you'd have liked him. You and Allie would have been great friends.'
The way he talked about Allie, made him seem so real, it was almost as though I knew him. I pondered for a few moments about this little brother of his and I was curious about their relationship and how much they shared together, and I was suddenly very intrigued. I was tempted to ask him, at the risk of perhaps sounding impertinent.
'Ciggy?'
'Hmm?'
'What went on between you and Allie?'
'What do you mean?'
'Well,' I said, 'You obviously loved him…'
'Yeah?'
'And I know you like shota boys…' I went on.
He interrupted me with a laugh.
'You wanna know if he put out for me?' he interjected, amused, 'Sure he did. All the time. Allie and I were at it like rabbits. In fact, that was the last time I ever… well, you know.'
'So that's it!' I announced triumphantly, as the mystery of this young man gradually began to resolve itself in my mind.
Ciggy was nodding slowly.
'Yeah, it's true,' he conceded, 'I've never been able to get it up since the accident. I guess I blamed myself.'
'It wasn't your fault,' I said, aware that I was stating the obvious, 'You didn't know that was gonna happen.'
'I know,' he conceded, 'But it still felt like I'd killed him. I took Allie to the lake, and I wasn't able to save him. Pity. He was the best thing in my life. The only good thing in my life. I damn near went off the rails after Allie died. I just couldn't take it. That was why I left. They must have hated me.'
'Who?'
'My folks,' he said, 'Haven't spoken to them in two years. Maybe if I go back with something to show for it, they'll take me back. The prodigal son returns. 'Cept I doubt they'll kill the fattened calf for me.'
'Trying to buy their forgiveness?' I remarked.
He stared at me a little taken aback. It was a quote I read somewhere.
'If you wanna call it that,' he acceded, 'All I know is I gotta have enough to set myself up when I get back. Otherwise, what's the point of all this?'
I didn't say anything. I was still a little ambivalent about his revelations.
'I just can't wait to be on that transporter,' he said, alluding back to the plans he had espoused earlier.
Then he paused and thought for a moment, taking on a more hopeful expression.
'Come with me Cloud,' he said suddenly.
It was quite unexpected.
'What?'
'Come with me,' he said again.
I was completely unprepared for this.
'Come on Cloud, what are you doing here? Let me take you away from all this.'
'All what? A place where I'm looked after, have enough to eat and a roof over my head?'
'But why settle for the bare minimum? There's more to life than this,' and as he said it, he held his arms out and made a sweeping gesture, encompassing the imagined devastation around us.
I had to admit, it didn't seem like much when he put it in those terms.
He tried appealing to me.
'Are you worried about putting out? Gonna miss getting your ass rooted every night? You wanna get fucked that bad? Okay, I'll see a doctor. I'll pay for the best damn cock-doc money can buy. I'll get my cock fixed just for you.'
I could see from his expression that he was serious too. I looked into his warm brown eyes and I could see, in that one instance, despite the horrors and complications inherent in this young man, that he was in fact offering me a lifeline. More than that, he was extending a hand of friendship and of love. Tell the truth, as we sat there in that meadow, with the remnants of our picnic on the grass, I saw a spark of possibility in his proposal. In that one instance, I had no doubt that he could be a worthy and benevolent lover, and one that I could definitely see myself falling for in quite an unequivocal way.
'But this is where my friends are. Everyone that loves me is here,' I said.
'They don't love you!' he scoffed, 'The only thing they love is that god-given ass of yours.'
'So?' I remarked, dismissively, 'It works for me.'
'But for how long? You know that the UN is gonna pull outta here any day now. When the UN boys go, Verolino is gonna become a hell hole like the rest of Europe. You think anyone is gonna PAY to fuck your pretty lil butt then? You'll be fair game for anybody with a dick. They'll rip your lil ass to shreds soon as look at you.'
'What about the ceasefire?' I asked him, with a ray of hope.
'Ceasefire!' he sneered, 'What ceasefire? It never lasts. It's been broken so many times it's become a running joke.'
It was a compelling argument. We all knew Verolino was doomed. We were all on borrowed time.
'But it's gotta get better some time,' I pleaded, hoping to inject a note of optimism.
'Why?' he demanded, 'Why has it gotta get better? Don't you see what's going on around you? They don't want peace. They just wanna destroy each other. They wanna wipe each other out and they don't care if the rest of the world burns down while they do it.'
'Yeah, but what would they want with me?'
He regarded me with a scowl.
'You really want me to answer that?' he said.
He took a deep breath.
'This is no way to survive,' he went on, 'You're still young Cloud. What about the rest of your life? What about the future?'
Sitting there in that meadow, not at all sure where we were, totally in Ciggy's hands, I looked around, and wondered just how much longer all this was going to be here. Was it really possible that the UN were going to pull out and leave us all to the mercy of the KAPO's and the other rebel militias? What would become of us all if they did?
Needless to say, I left Ciggy's invitation hanging in the air. He didn't press me. He put it out there and left it, and neither of us said any more about it. We just enjoyed what was left of our time together and we chatted amiably for the rest of the afternoon. Then Ciggy said we had to leave before it got dark. There was a curfew at nightfall and it wouldn't do for us to be stopped by UNVERO.
Later, when he dropped me off outside the club, Ciggy gathered me in his arms and kissed me ever so lovingly on the lips. I was starting to get used to his gestures of affection. He stood in the dim light of the parking lot and looked down into my eyes, his arms clutching me to him tightly and he giggled, vaguely amused by some thought that had just come into his head.
'What?' I asked, curious.
'Cloud Nine,' he laughed, remembering my joke of last night.
I smiled sheepishly. Last night seemed such a long time ago now.
'Did you enjoy yourself today Cloud Nine?'
I nodded, closing my eyes contentedly.
'Good,' he said, 'So did I. Thank you for spending the day with me.'
Then he kissed me once more on the forehead, and released me. He left me standing by the side door of the club, the music already thudding away inside, and he jumped back into the Jeep and started it up. He spun the wheels as he drove off, sending a little cloud of dust up into the air, and then just as the Jeep exited the gate he called out to me, without looking back.
'I love you Cloud Nine!'
His words echoed out into the night, over the roar of the Jeep, and he was gone.
Elated, but already missing him, I went back into the club. But I wasn't going to work this evening. I didn't want to spoil the memory of my wonderful day. I wanted to preserve it intact. So I went upstairs to my room, hoping to get an early night. After my wonderfully exhausting day with Ciggy, I realized there was still so much more for me to see in this world - so much more to see and experience. Maybe Ciggy COULD take me away from all this. Maybe I SHOULD grasp his offer and get on that transporter with him.
* * * * * *