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The author “Chance” is me, “Larkin” This is an effort to re-compose my old roster into a new roster comprised old and new works, re-written and done with more careful editing. (omitting junk) I hope you will understand.

Please send comments to: larkin@tutanota.com...And I will respond

First published a year and a half ago under the title of “New York 1912” placed in the historical forum but a goodly number of people missed it. This gives me the opportunity to tidy it up and add to it here and there and restructure the ending.

This is a work of fiction. All disclaimers associated with homosexuality will apply without exception. There is reference to some drug use that is in character with the period but it is only incidental and not to proselytize. Persons portrayed in this story are fictitious or at best, coincidental.

Waiting for the Titanic

Part 8

The Excursion

I imagine myself a modern man but I am uneasy with the spark and flicker of the incandescent lights and to be honest, they scare me and now they are found all over the house. I am also not put at ease with the sputtering and periodic loud bangs coming from the new automobile parked in the rear horse stable. 

Peter is confident.  He has studied the manuals and has already taken it out for a ride.  To be fair, I was invited but declined the maiden voyage of our new, bright red, 1915 Marmon.  The first real excursion was to take place on Saturday so that all three of us could go.

Peter studied the maps and plotted all the petrol depots that were located along the Long Island Road Way.  Racing has been recently banned by the local inhabitants because of unintended collisions.  It was still cold so we filled the rear seat with blankets and extra clothing and food and bottles of wine. Billy and I would take turns sitting up front.  He liked the rear because there was so much space that he could almost roam from side to side constantly surveying the new and ever intriguing landscape.

As we crossed the bridge into Brooklyn I nudged Peter,  "Please don't go too fast."

"Don't worry Edmund."

"Remember to keep a look out for signs so that we don't get lost."

"Edmund, I brought all the maps with me."

I asked Peter, "Did you get your driving license?"  

"Stop your wool gathering Edmund! I'll get round to it.  No one really cares if you have a driving license or not."

"Peter, you're driving too fast!"

With that, He abruptly turned off to the side, out of the roadway and looking at me he angrily, said,  "Edmund, get in the back!"

When I got out and moved to the spacious rear, Billy climbed over the seat and sat next to Peter.  

Billy, ever enthusiastic, said,  "I'm the ship's navigator". 

Turning back on the road, he accelerated even faster than before.  I tried to relax and gradually I got used to seeing the countryside flying by.

According to Peter, Long Island has three drivable roads that go the length of the Island.  One on the Long Island Sound, to the North. One along the Atlantic sea shore on the South side  and the Long Island roadway down the center.  Peter looked for a side road to take him closer to the ocean.

He yelled back to me, "I've never seen the ocean before except once when I went to Coney Island on the BMT!" 

Listening to him brought back my own memories of Coney Island. The road opened up into a landscape of sand dunes bordered by the sea.  There were very large fashionable houses facing the sea that were sparsely placed here and there.  I was sure that many were owned by families living in my neighborhood in Manhattan.

There was a crook in the road and suddenly we were faced with a sand embankment that we hit straight on.  I was thrown up and landed into the forward seat just in time to see Billy flying completely out of the automobile and disappearing over the embankment.

I was horror struck and both of us jumped out and ran up to see Billy.  My heart was pounding.  Billy was dazed but appeared to be unhurt.  I realized more than ever how important Billy was to me.  Like any boy, he was resilient and once recovered, he became excited and couldn't stop talking about it.

"This is the first day and the automobile is ruined! I told you not to drive so fast."

After looking underneath the Marmon, Peter said, "I think the leaf spring is disengage.  The Catalog said that the repair people will go anywhere in the metropolitan area. 

"Peter we aren't in the metropolitan area anymore."

He surveyed the horizon. "We Have to find a telephone."

"Nobody lives here in the Winter!"

He turned, looked at me and calmly said. "Edmund, will you Shut the fuck up..."

Peter is barely 16 and he has taken charge of me, Billy and a broken automobile, and being stranded out in the middle of nowhere!

We started quibbling and began a pathetic trudge towards a large white house that happened to have a single auto parked out in front of a long drive way. Billy continued to be enthralled with his surrounding and when I think about It might be the first time he had ever been out of the city.

It took awhile but eventually the door opened. There stood a small middle aged man in a robe and slippers.

His voice had a strange, unrecognizable drawl to it "Yes, who shall I say is calling."

At first I thought it might be a butler on his day off.  Peter started to talk but I pushed him aside.  My name is Edmund Howell our automobile is broken and we are stranded is it possible to use your telephone?"

I offered him one of our bottles of wine as compensation.  He took it and read the label.  He opened the door wider allowing all three of us to enter. 

He extended his hand.  I'm Alfred Abbott and you have very good taste in wine, thank you very much. 

He appeared to be alone in a very large house. 

"Would you and your sons join me for dinner?  Please say yes."

"Yes, but do you have a telephone."

He ignored the question and started showing the boys and myself around the house.

"This is my family's Summer cottage and when they come up here, I go down to the city.  My family has exiled me to Siberia because I am an inebriant."  

I looked puzzled.  Mr. Abbott did not elaborate. 

"Mr. Abbott, do you have a telephone.  We are stranded here."

The strange man seemed to be getting along fine with Peter and Billy offering them chocolates from a large decorative box. 

After closing the box of chocolates that he had let the boys rifle through, he said, "Oh yes, a telephone,.. The lines were blown down  during the blizzard and haven't been repaired yet.  Please call me Alfie."

He put the box down and opened it so that the boys could continue feeding out of it. "Edmund, I am sorry but you are stuck here, possibly till the morning, but I would be so honored if you and these lovely boys have dinner with me and I will be happy to take you all back in the morning.  If you call the Marmon repair I am sure they will come out here and pick it up.  Edmund, you wouldn't have any more bottles of wine in you auto?  If you bring them we could chill them for later."

I sent Billy after them.

So there was someone else there.  It was a catch all, chauffer cook for Alfred.  Mr. Holloway, a large man in his 40's.  He was attractive but cheeky.  

He came up close to me and softly said, "Yes, I take care of Mr. Abbott and keep him from burning the house down."

I gave him an odd look.

He returned with another soft spoken but snarky comment. "How good of you to bring the wine. That should make me plenty of work by morning." 

Dinner was simple, meat and potatoes prepared by Mr. Holloway.

Alfie raised his glass. "I propose a toast to my guests and new friends!"

Barely one glass and Mr. Abbott was already showing signs of getting a little drunk. 

"To you Edmund and these two very beautiful boys."

Peter and Billy had gone back to eating chocolates.  

After dinner we went up to Mr. Abbott's bedroom suite that had its own lavishly decorated living room.

He lamented, "This is my prison cell."

He poured another glass of wine.  "No one cares about me as I waste away in this awful place."

I had to admit that Alfie was both overly dramatic and very amusing.  I took time looking over his book shelf.    

I looked at his bookshelf and it was filled with Edwardian works of literature.  I noticed a slim volume that looked almost hidden.  It was one of the Parisian homosexual pornographies .

"Alfie, you actually keep this out in the open?"

He was shocked that I had discovered it and tried to snatch it away from me. I pulled it back from his grasp.

"Alfie, Not to worry, I have the entire set and they are wonderful.

He seemed relieved but then added, "A friend left it here and I must return it."

"Well Alfie, these little paper books lit a fire inside of me and served to inspire my diaries which I continually add to.  I am recording only the dirty bits of my life.  Everything else is pointless twaddle."

Stepping back, he gave me a studied and appraising assessment. 

And then... I inadvertently opened Pandora's box.  "Not to worry Alfie, we are of like minds.  We are kindred spirits. You should be pleased."

He poured another glass of wine. "It's true  what they say about me, I am a black sheep without possibility of redemption.  I'm not really a bad person, I'm just peculiar,  and Edmund, you are the only one who truly understands me. You are my true friend."

I had to laugh at how inappropriate his statement was but we were his guests and I really didn't mind humoring him.  Billy came over  and cuddled up next to me.

Alfie went on."And your beautiful boys like Greek Gods. running naked in fields of nasturtium."

He up-ended his glass of wine and poured another.

The streetwise Peter, stood, arms folded assessing Alfie Abbott as if he might be a mark on the street, begging to be exploited.  I could see that the sight was absolutely thrilling him.

I thought I had better pull Peter aside.  "Peter, I know you know a mark when you see one but don't go stealing the silverware.  You currently have a good reputation, let's keep it that way."

He gave me a sly smile. "Leave it to me Edmund I'll take care of him."

Alfie's speech was only slightly slurred.  At the foot of Alfie's very large bed was an Elizabethan, carved chest.  Peter casually lifted the lid and looked inside. 

"Mr. Abbott, how do you explain all this."

A veil of guilt seem to spread over Alfie's face. "Oh no, I should have locked it, You shouldn't have looked in there. I'm so embarrassed."

Peter lifted the lid up all the way and Billy ran over and looked in it too.

Peter held up an ornate sculpture carved into the shape of an erected penis. 

It was smooth and supple. "Edmund, what do you call these things again?"

I said quietly, "It's called a dildo."

Alfie's hands were shaking and he poured another glass of wine.  "I-I-I don't know, someone must have left it here."

Not to think that we were tormenting our gracious host but he was play acting and provoking it as perverse theater and Peter was accommodating him.  I have to admit that it was a joy to watch him in action.  

He lifted out a skein of silk rope.  "I think I should tie your hands so that you do not escape."

Mr. Abbott held out his hands to be tied by Peter. "Yes, yes, tie me up and take me somewhere and execute me for that is what I deserve and nothing less."

Even Billy laughed as if it was comedy on the stage.  Peter instructed Alfie to undress and he complied without question.  Alfie was on a first name basis with all of us except Peter who he now called Sir.  This was unusual because he hadn't been instructed to do so which alluded to the fact that he had done this countless times before.

Briefly,  he emerged from his character long enough to ask Billy to open another bottle of wine.   Billy held it so Alfie  could drink from the bottle.  It was certainly a third of the bottle before it was ordered taken away by Peter.

Hands tied behind his back, kneeling on the rug, naked and erect,  Alfie presented a pathetic image of a tortured prisoner. 

Peter lorded over him in a way I had never seen before.  "If you want more wine, you must obey me."

Alfie groveled. "Yes sir, I will obey you only please don't make me do dirty and shameful acts."

Knowing Peter, this was asking for trouble and I could see that he was already erect in his pants.  If it wasn't for Billy laying at my side I might have been mad with Jealousy.

Peter was showing the prisoner his cock and large set of balls and demonstrated his jerk off techniques inches away from our host's face.  Once erect, he came up close but wouldn't let the prisoner actually touch him.

"Billy, more wine for the prisoner!"

This level of sadistic tendencies possessed by Peter was usually kept hidden from me and I found it startling.

"I jerk off at least twice a day and I need to do it now but you are in my way."  He was stroking right into Alfie's face.

The prisoner pleaded. "I know you are going to humiliate me, I know I am guilty and that I deserve it but, please don't do such a dirty thing to me. Please, please."

All of this begging was pure inspiration for Peter and he savored the very idea of what he was about to do. 

He was stroking hard, "Alfie, Please open your mouth."

 "Oh no, you wouldn't."

And he did.. I was riveted with Peter's skillful use of contempt.  "How do you like that, I've decorated your face."

He was laughing derisively, "See, you get what you deserve!"

Billy untied him and brought him a tea towel and followed it with the remaining half bottle of wine.  Alfie up-ended it and fell backward, passing out.  A few minutes later, he rose up briefly to vomit on the oriental rug.

Peter pulled me aside and said, “Did you see it?”

He was having difficult time containing himself. ”It was a jailhouse tattoo on his rear end.”

I shook my head, “No, I didn't see it.”

“It was crude and I could barely read it but it said, Coloreds Only”

I could only imagine..

The boys gorged themselves on more chocolates and we found another bedroom and slept till morning.

Please send comments to: larkin@tutanota.com...And I will respond