Chaz does have great marketing sense.
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Country Cousins
- Thread starter EasyRory
- Start date
Rickrock
JUB Addict
I just caught up with the last three chapters and I am smiling. Mike and Otis and Tyler tickled me. Then the conversation between Vickie and Renee and this last chapter was interesting too. Thanks.
EasyRory
JUB Addict
Chapter Forty - Vince
“What a day!” I said to Paul as we drove back to my apartment.
“The Flash is a real trip!”
“He's cute though, in his own way.”
“Cute?” Paul queried. “He's … he's ...”
“Come on, he's cute. That curly black hair? And his eyes … I can't even guess what color they are.”
“When he can focus them,” Paul said indifferently.
“Sometimes they're blue, sometimes they look green or gray. And he has a nice dick. Admit it, Paul. The Flash cute as fuck!”
“When did you see his dick?” Paul's eyes were bigger than I had ever seen them.
“In the kitchen. He flashed me.” I chuckled at the memory.
“He …! What did you do?”
“I flashed him back. I think he liked that.”
“I know a man named Freud who would love to talk to you.” Paul made a disgusted noise.
“I was surprised. It wasn't sexy at all. It was like he just wanted to show me a part of himself that he felt was important. Nothing hidden, you know? Kind of like animals. They don't wear clothes. They have no secrets. It's all right out there.”
“Right out there, huh? What's a 'nice' dick anyway?”
“You have a nice dick,” I told him, hoping to ease his annoyance. “Nice size, nice girth, you know … it's nice!”
“What about his?”
“His penis, he always sounds so formal talking about it, his PENIS has an … I don't know … an 'I'm ready' look to it. Not ready-for-me, exactly, but ready … willing … you just know he'd be sweet in bed if he liked you. Generous. No hold backs.”
“And you know all this from one quick peek?” Could Paul be little jealous?
“The human brain recognizes genitalia in a lot of detail instantly,” I told him.
“Where did you learn that? Looking at hundreds of dicks?” He was absolutely huffy.
The rest of the trip it seemed like he sulked. We stopped at the drug store before closing so I could check my schedule and then went home. “I work all mornings next week,” I told him and he just grunted. Moody again. And it had been such a great day, never mind the rain, I thought.
We got in bed and I reached to turn out the light. Paul liked sex, if we were going to have any, in complete darkness. I felt his hand on my waist.
“Leave it on,” he said and looked at me as I lay back on the pillow. He looked hard at me and then he kissed me. “What?” I asked when he pulled away. He didn't answer, just kissed me again. His hands went to my face, to my neck, stroking gently as he kissed me again.
“Do you like that?” he asked as he looked at me.
“Very much,” I told him. I pulled him to me but he resisted.
“Your eyes are green. Very handsome,” he said and then kissed me again. “In case you think I don't notice these things.”
I let him blow me and, yes, he was getting better at it. No gagging or coughing. Pretty nice action; in fact, he was turning me on. “Don't come,” he told me, “We're not done yet.” He continued sucking slowly up and down, playing with my balls the way I like, and pressing on that great little area between your balls and your asshole.
“I'm close, Paul,” I told him. He didn't stop. “Really close,” I said urgently. He stopped and moved to my asshole. He'd never done that before – rimmed me, I mean. It was a nice interlude between almost coming in his mouth and the feel of his cock pressing on me. He entered me with confidence, slowly, so it didn't hurt, but fully. I always liked the feel of his cock in me, he just didn't fuck me often enough, probably because he liked me to take the lead in what we did and he'd get all embarrassed if I said “Fuck me.” I didn't need to give him any direction tonight. He was doing just fine on his own. At one point I grimaced – a twinge of pain. He almost pulled out.
“No, I like it when you fuck me,” I told him. “It's ok if you hurt me a little.”
“I don't want to hurt you,” he said before kissing me.
“It's ok. I like it when you hurt me a little.” Whoa! Did I just say that? I guess I did. I guess I do.
He resumed slowly. I reached for his face and pulled him down to kiss me. He was as eager as I was. A thought came to me. I wet my thumbs and rubbed his nipples, gently pushing around the quickly-forming nubs. Boing! He fucked me frantically and came fast.
“My God!” He was still spurting. “What did you do?” He kept pumping furiously, and only gradually slowed down. And then he stopped abruptly and pulled out. I winced from the emptiness.
“Baby,” he kissed me. “I'm sorry. I had to pull out; I couldn't take any more. My dick was so ...” More kisses were followed by a return of sanity. He asked, “What did you do? Nipples? Really? It was awesome. It was like electricity.” He straddled my pelvis and leaned down to kiss me some more.
There's such a good feeling after sex, at least I feel it; it comes when I know I've done a good job. And I knew I sent Paul places he'd never been before. It was as good as coming myself. I felt total comfort with his dead weight on top of me. For a while anyway. Eventually … you know … I tried to push him to the side.
“No you don't!” he said, pinning my arms. “We're not done yet. You haven't come yet.”
“That's ok. I don't need to come every time.” and then “Oooo!” when I felt his slickened hand lubing my cock. I don't know where his choreographic skills came from, but effortlessly he moved onto my cock. I felt it slide into his asshole. “You don't like it after you've come,” I reminded him.
“I want you in me,” was my answer. No discussion. He began moving slowly up and down. Soon I was joining him, thrusting against his downward push, trying not to pop out when he lifted up again. I did pop out when I rolled him over. I heard his little ouch and then his aah as I slide back in. I like fucking a guy and I like missionary best because I can kiss him. Tonight, Paul wanted my kisses. He clutched at my body and pulled me against him. He firm hands grabbed my ass and pulled on every thrust. Suddenly he sobbed and said, “I'm coming! … Again!” as if he couldn't believe what was happening. One more stroke and I joined him in spastic hunching, almost eating his face with kisses.
What was there to say after that? We lay against each other. Occasional kisses said what we felt. He'd kiss me and then lie back. I knew he wanted to talk, but he stayed quiet. Then I'd kiss him and again he'd say nothing. Only sighs and touches kept us connected. At last I kissed him firmly and commanded, “Say it.”
“I want to live with you.” He took a deep breath and waited for me to react.
“Pretty much you do live with me, when you're here.”
“No, I mean, yes, I do, but I want to live with you officially, like someone asks and I say 'We live together.' Like we're in a relationship. Can we do that?”
“Who are you going to tell?”
“Everybody. Ok?”
“Ok. Tell 'em,” I said. He wanted to say more, but he didn't. I was tired but I could still tell he was lying there thinking. I could feel the tenseness in his body. It didn't keep me from falling asleep. When I woke the next morning he sat on a chair looking at me, waiting for me to wake up. “Morning,” I said with eyes-just-open hoarseness.
“I love you,” he said. “I thought about it and I'm ninety-nine percent sure I love you.”
“You're straight,” I challenged.
“I see a pretty girl and my dick gets hard. But I don't want to live with her. I want to live with you.”
“You sure? How do you know?”
“It's not supposed to work like this. You're supposed to say 'I love you too', not grill me on my motives.” I just stared at him. “Alright, al-fuckin'-right. You're beautiful. The sex is great. You're nice to me. You're smart. You're sexy. I can't give up sex with you. You're nice to Girl Scouts and small animals. And I love the sex. And I've never felt like this before. And someday, when your hair grows back ...”
“Shut up. Come here.” I held out my arms and he jumped into them. “I love you, too.” He struggled out of my grasp and fiddled with his phone. He's really good at one-handed typing. “What are you doing?” He showed me the text.
“GUNNA B L8”
An hour later we walked out to the parking lot. My landlady lived on the first floor and saw up coming down the stairs. “You two look chipper today.”
Paul leaned his head in my direction and said, “I love him.”
Her face registered a cascade of emotion changing rapidly from disbelief to shock to delight and a big grin. “It's a wonderful feeling,” she proposed.
“The best,” Paul answered.
“Come to dinner? We'll celebrate. About six-thirty?”
“Love to,” I told her.
“That makes it official, I guess,” Paul said and practiced stating his new status. “This is my boyfriend ... who I live with ... who I love. Sounds nice, doesn't it?”
“Sounds gushy, Paul, especially coming from a straight guy.”
“Fuck you, Vince.”
“I hope so; in fact, I'm counting on it.”
“What a day!” I said to Paul as we drove back to my apartment.
“The Flash is a real trip!”
“He's cute though, in his own way.”
“Cute?” Paul queried. “He's … he's ...”
“Come on, he's cute. That curly black hair? And his eyes … I can't even guess what color they are.”
“When he can focus them,” Paul said indifferently.
“Sometimes they're blue, sometimes they look green or gray. And he has a nice dick. Admit it, Paul. The Flash cute as fuck!”
“When did you see his dick?” Paul's eyes were bigger than I had ever seen them.
“In the kitchen. He flashed me.” I chuckled at the memory.
“He …! What did you do?”
“I flashed him back. I think he liked that.”
“I know a man named Freud who would love to talk to you.” Paul made a disgusted noise.
“I was surprised. It wasn't sexy at all. It was like he just wanted to show me a part of himself that he felt was important. Nothing hidden, you know? Kind of like animals. They don't wear clothes. They have no secrets. It's all right out there.”
“Right out there, huh? What's a 'nice' dick anyway?”
“You have a nice dick,” I told him, hoping to ease his annoyance. “Nice size, nice girth, you know … it's nice!”
“What about his?”
“His penis, he always sounds so formal talking about it, his PENIS has an … I don't know … an 'I'm ready' look to it. Not ready-for-me, exactly, but ready … willing … you just know he'd be sweet in bed if he liked you. Generous. No hold backs.”
“And you know all this from one quick peek?” Could Paul be little jealous?
“The human brain recognizes genitalia in a lot of detail instantly,” I told him.
“Where did you learn that? Looking at hundreds of dicks?” He was absolutely huffy.
The rest of the trip it seemed like he sulked. We stopped at the drug store before closing so I could check my schedule and then went home. “I work all mornings next week,” I told him and he just grunted. Moody again. And it had been such a great day, never mind the rain, I thought.
We got in bed and I reached to turn out the light. Paul liked sex, if we were going to have any, in complete darkness. I felt his hand on my waist.
“Leave it on,” he said and looked at me as I lay back on the pillow. He looked hard at me and then he kissed me. “What?” I asked when he pulled away. He didn't answer, just kissed me again. His hands went to my face, to my neck, stroking gently as he kissed me again.
“Do you like that?” he asked as he looked at me.
“Very much,” I told him. I pulled him to me but he resisted.
“Your eyes are green. Very handsome,” he said and then kissed me again. “In case you think I don't notice these things.”
I let him blow me and, yes, he was getting better at it. No gagging or coughing. Pretty nice action; in fact, he was turning me on. “Don't come,” he told me, “We're not done yet.” He continued sucking slowly up and down, playing with my balls the way I like, and pressing on that great little area between your balls and your asshole.
“I'm close, Paul,” I told him. He didn't stop. “Really close,” I said urgently. He stopped and moved to my asshole. He'd never done that before – rimmed me, I mean. It was a nice interlude between almost coming in his mouth and the feel of his cock pressing on me. He entered me with confidence, slowly, so it didn't hurt, but fully. I always liked the feel of his cock in me, he just didn't fuck me often enough, probably because he liked me to take the lead in what we did and he'd get all embarrassed if I said “Fuck me.” I didn't need to give him any direction tonight. He was doing just fine on his own. At one point I grimaced – a twinge of pain. He almost pulled out.
“No, I like it when you fuck me,” I told him. “It's ok if you hurt me a little.”
“I don't want to hurt you,” he said before kissing me.
“It's ok. I like it when you hurt me a little.” Whoa! Did I just say that? I guess I did. I guess I do.
He resumed slowly. I reached for his face and pulled him down to kiss me. He was as eager as I was. A thought came to me. I wet my thumbs and rubbed his nipples, gently pushing around the quickly-forming nubs. Boing! He fucked me frantically and came fast.
“My God!” He was still spurting. “What did you do?” He kept pumping furiously, and only gradually slowed down. And then he stopped abruptly and pulled out. I winced from the emptiness.
“Baby,” he kissed me. “I'm sorry. I had to pull out; I couldn't take any more. My dick was so ...” More kisses were followed by a return of sanity. He asked, “What did you do? Nipples? Really? It was awesome. It was like electricity.” He straddled my pelvis and leaned down to kiss me some more.
There's such a good feeling after sex, at least I feel it; it comes when I know I've done a good job. And I knew I sent Paul places he'd never been before. It was as good as coming myself. I felt total comfort with his dead weight on top of me. For a while anyway. Eventually … you know … I tried to push him to the side.
“No you don't!” he said, pinning my arms. “We're not done yet. You haven't come yet.”
“That's ok. I don't need to come every time.” and then “Oooo!” when I felt his slickened hand lubing my cock. I don't know where his choreographic skills came from, but effortlessly he moved onto my cock. I felt it slide into his asshole. “You don't like it after you've come,” I reminded him.
“I want you in me,” was my answer. No discussion. He began moving slowly up and down. Soon I was joining him, thrusting against his downward push, trying not to pop out when he lifted up again. I did pop out when I rolled him over. I heard his little ouch and then his aah as I slide back in. I like fucking a guy and I like missionary best because I can kiss him. Tonight, Paul wanted my kisses. He clutched at my body and pulled me against him. He firm hands grabbed my ass and pulled on every thrust. Suddenly he sobbed and said, “I'm coming! … Again!” as if he couldn't believe what was happening. One more stroke and I joined him in spastic hunching, almost eating his face with kisses.
What was there to say after that? We lay against each other. Occasional kisses said what we felt. He'd kiss me and then lie back. I knew he wanted to talk, but he stayed quiet. Then I'd kiss him and again he'd say nothing. Only sighs and touches kept us connected. At last I kissed him firmly and commanded, “Say it.”
“I want to live with you.” He took a deep breath and waited for me to react.
“Pretty much you do live with me, when you're here.”
“No, I mean, yes, I do, but I want to live with you officially, like someone asks and I say 'We live together.' Like we're in a relationship. Can we do that?”
“Who are you going to tell?”
“Everybody. Ok?”
“Ok. Tell 'em,” I said. He wanted to say more, but he didn't. I was tired but I could still tell he was lying there thinking. I could feel the tenseness in his body. It didn't keep me from falling asleep. When I woke the next morning he sat on a chair looking at me, waiting for me to wake up. “Morning,” I said with eyes-just-open hoarseness.
“I love you,” he said. “I thought about it and I'm ninety-nine percent sure I love you.”
“You're straight,” I challenged.
“I see a pretty girl and my dick gets hard. But I don't want to live with her. I want to live with you.”
“You sure? How do you know?”
“It's not supposed to work like this. You're supposed to say 'I love you too', not grill me on my motives.” I just stared at him. “Alright, al-fuckin'-right. You're beautiful. The sex is great. You're nice to me. You're smart. You're sexy. I can't give up sex with you. You're nice to Girl Scouts and small animals. And I love the sex. And I've never felt like this before. And someday, when your hair grows back ...”
“Shut up. Come here.” I held out my arms and he jumped into them. “I love you, too.” He struggled out of my grasp and fiddled with his phone. He's really good at one-handed typing. “What are you doing?” He showed me the text.
“GUNNA B L8”
An hour later we walked out to the parking lot. My landlady lived on the first floor and saw up coming down the stairs. “You two look chipper today.”
Paul leaned his head in my direction and said, “I love him.”
Her face registered a cascade of emotion changing rapidly from disbelief to shock to delight and a big grin. “It's a wonderful feeling,” she proposed.
“The best,” Paul answered.
“Come to dinner? We'll celebrate. About six-thirty?”
“Love to,” I told her.
“That makes it official, I guess,” Paul said and practiced stating his new status. “This is my boyfriend ... who I live with ... who I love. Sounds nice, doesn't it?”
“Sounds gushy, Paul, especially coming from a straight guy.”
“Fuck you, Vince.”
“I hope so; in fact, I'm counting on it.”
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Awesome! Sounds like the landlady is more than "on board", too! 
Given our initial intro. to Vince, I'm absolutely Thrilled things have turned out so well for him and Paul!
Or ... have they?
MORE, Please!
Keep Smilin'!!
Chaz
Given our initial intro. to Vince, I'm absolutely Thrilled things have turned out so well for him and Paul!
Or ... have they?
MORE, Please!
Keep Smilin'!!
Chaz
Craiger
JUB Addict
Romantic and funny all at the same time. Congratulations to Vince and Paul and may their love be everlasting......How sweet of the landlady to offer a celebratory dinner. Awesome chapter, Rory.
Craiger
Craiger
Rory,
I thoroughly enjoyed this when it popped up in my inbox today.
It gave me a great JUB installment to tide me over until I got home late tonight.
We can hope that Vince and Paul are going to become one of the "old married couples" of your story lines.
Thanks for the great read - and I'm looking forward to even more.
I thoroughly enjoyed this when it popped up in my inbox today.
It gave me a great JUB installment to tide me over until I got home late tonight.
We can hope that Vince and Paul are going to become one of the "old married couples" of your story lines.
Thanks for the great read - and I'm looking forward to even more.
EasyRory
JUB Addict
Mmmmm ... usually I try to keep the timeline in my stories more or less in synch with what's going on outside my window. Gotta say it's hard to write about summertime pastoral frolics when it's SNOWING outside.
Rory, you have such a fantastic talent in grasping and displaying all these varied and unique personalities. I am just in awe at every chapter I read. I can't wait for the next ones and am never disappointed in being blown away by your writing. Keep up the great work. You are totally amazing.
EasyRory
JUB Addict
Wow, thanks, big cannon
EasyRory
JUB Addict
Chapter Forty-One - Mike
It was over too soon, the long week with Roy back from school. And to make things worse, he had to spend a few days with his parents at, and this is what he told me, a place he no longer thinks of as home. I already miss him and he's sitting right next to me as we drive back to Williamsburg. He's sitting close enough our thighs are touching and now and then he rests his hand on my leg and gives me a little squeeze.
“Do your parents still believe you're doing a term paper on Mike's business?” asked Tyler, riding shotgun, the reason Roy was sitting so close. “That's the world's longest term paper project.”
“I told them it's a continuing study - that I'm looking at the marketing aspects now. Christmas, after they've paid for the last semester, I'm telling them that the project has turned into a long-term arrangement. In fact I'm going to tell them everything.”
“If you want to tell them now, I'll pay for your school,” I told him, not really sure if I could afford to do that.
“They owe me. I've been a model kid. Plus, they can afford it and I'm the last in line,” he said. He squeezed my thigh to make his point and left his hand on my leg. He's giving me the start of a hard-on and we still have a hundred and fifty miles to go. I covered his hand with mine and gently removed it. He put it back again.
“Everybody seems to like The Flash,” Tyler said, trying not to look at what Roy's hand was doing to me.
“He's awesome!” Roy responded. “Are you and The Flash a thing? You know … a thing? Refo said it's so cute when every night before he goes to bed he says, 'I want to sleep with Tyler now.'”
“I told Refo he's not talking about sex. He means it literally. He's tired and he wants to go to sleep. He likes having me there because he think he sleeps better when I am.”
“So you don't … uh ...”
“We don't. The amazing part is he hugs and kisses me on and off all night. He sleeps great – I'm awake half the night. But it's not sex. It's like I'm a Raggety Andy doll; I'm a talisman or something for him. The night ends; he jumps up smiling; and I'm grumpy with aching balls from being hard all night.”
“I'm gonna have aching balls if you keep messin' with me,” I told Roy.
Roy ignored me and followed up on the Tyler-Flash thing. “But you suck his dick. What's that about?”
“That's when I'm drawing him. He's naked and he's always getting hard. He lets me suck it to make it go down. And then I draw some more and then I suck some more. It's exhausting, plus not getting much sleep at night.”
“Wow! And I thought you were having fun!”
“I am. He's awesome. I could draw him forever. He doesn't like being touched, but he says I touch him with my eyes and it feels good. And ...” Tyler decided he was saying too much and fell silent.
“And what?” Roy insisted. “You can't leave me hangin?”
“And he gives me hand jobs some times. He's fascinated by the … the mechanics of male orgasms. He describes every physical step in the process. You know … play by playt action. Getting hard … balls getting tight ... Now the tube on the bottom of your penis is all puffed out … That kind of stuff.”
“So you are having sex. But not really ... no fuckin', huh?”
“He cannot comprehend the idea of men fucking. Why would you do that, he says. He just can't comprehend that it might feel good. He drives me crazy and then he spends all night kissin' me. He's has some experience with women but he doesn't talk about it. I think that means he doesn't understand what happened. I think he ignores what doesn't make sense to him, like what doesn't make sense isn't real – it doesn't really happen. I think … Listen to me. I've only known him a week and a day.”
“He's staying with Refo. I guess he likes Refo.”
“He does, but he worships Mike. He thinks you're a god or something, Mike.”
“I am. Didn't Roy tell you?” Tyler was sounding a little frantic. I tried to lighten things, which didn't work. It just shut Tyler up. “I've had some talks with him. Made a couple suggestions, that's all.”
“He's thinking about them. He thinks you understand him better than anybody else he's ever known. 'How does he understand all this?' he asked me. 'I never understand anything other people are thinking.' He looks on you the way I looked on my first art teacher. You're his hero.”
That was pretty heavy I thought. It took Roy to successfully change the mood. “So what about your art? Where's that going?”
“I left a bunch of stuff with Refo. All drawings of Otis. He said he knows a dealer in Washington. He's going to get an opinion. School, I'm lately thinking, is a waste of time. I'm not into art history, which is what all the courses boil down to, even the so-called technique stuff. I just want to draw. Paint, maybe. I should be in a studio not a university.”
“How come we've never talked like this before? I feel like I know you a hundred times better after an hour in this truck and we've been roommates almost a year.”
“I kinda had a little crush on you,” Tyler laughed. “I could barely say hello without goin' weak in the knees. Otis has displaced those feelings. I can talk now.”
“So you're gonna be all Chatty Cathy now? I liked you quiet. I could study.”
That got an honest laugh out of Tyler. “You can study and I can get some sleep.”
I dropped them off with the promise I'd be back in time for a late lunch. While they got resettled I went back to the store on Duke of Gloucester Street and entered with the repaired chair in hand. “Hello!” I called out on a quiet, tourist-free Monday.
“Oh, Mister ...” She groped for my name.
“Mike Pierce,” I reminded her. “Here's the chair. I made some repairs ...”
She gasped. “It's perfect! It's just perfect!”
“No, it isn't. I had to make some infill segments, so I made them a slightly different color. That way you can tell the authentic from the Mike-Pierce-imitation parts.”
“It's hardly noticeable.” We walked to a stronger light. “Oh, I see what you mean.” She ran her hand over the spindles and spokes and almost cooed. “I can't feel a seam at all!”
“Yes. So you can actually sit in it without snagging your clothes, but still you can see the extent of the repairs. Restorers do that with sculpture restored from fragments, I thought it might work with furniture. Also, the chair really won't take a lot of abuse – I mean somebody my size shouldn't sit in it. It's a lady's chair.”
“It always was. For the boudoir. I can definitely sell it. Evan!” she called out. “Come look!”
“Mr. Pierce?” A woman came from another part of the store. “I'm Amanda Kellam from Virginia Beach. Do you do restorations?”
“What do you want, Lula?” someone said.
“Hush a minute, Evan.”
“Not normally, Mrs. Kellam, but in this case I did.”
Evan didn't hush. “The chair!” He grabbed it in his hands and examined every inch.
“Miss Kellam, but call me Amanda. I have the remains of a dining room from my grandmother and a few of the chairs are damaged and a few others are missing. It's a wonderful old set. Is that something you would do, Mr. Pierce?”
“The work is superb, Mr. Pierce.” Evan said reverently.
“Called me Mike.”
“Mike” said Amanda and Evan in unison.
“I might could, Amanda. I should probably take a look at the set.”
I'm gay and I know it and there isn't going to be any more sex with my clients, but Amanda Kellam was fascinating. I'm pretty sure she was used to getting what she wanted. And I'm here to tell you , she could have me if she wanted. Professionally, of course.
She gave me her card and I gave her Frank's with my phone number written in. She remarked on Rockingham County and said she enjoyed the mountains and I told her I enjoyed the beach. We both probably lied. “So will you come and see me in the morning?”
Later I told Roy about the offer and said I'd need to spend the night. He was happy about that although I'm not sure Tyler was. Tyler was already trying to take a nap and groaned when he heard I'd be there.
“First I get hugged and kissed but not fucked for a week, now I have to listen to you two all night long?” He put his head under his pillow and moaned. Roy and I stayed in a Red Roof Inn out by I-64, which was fine. Sex with Roy is great anyplace, even in a noisy motel.
In the morning I went to the address Amanda had given me. I noticed that Virginia Beach seemed to be full of a lot of things named Kellam, the largest being a high school.
I found the house easily. It was substantial and well off the road, but fairly modern – not at all what I had expected. I rang the bell and waited for Amanda.
“Mr. Pierce? I'm Trudy, Miss Kellam's assistant. She's sorry she can't be here and asked me to show you the dining room set.”
I was disappointed not to see Amanda herself, but Trudy was competent and efficient. I looked at the furniture which was in a large garage behind the house. “Would Miss Kellam want the furniture just restored to working order or refinished to look new as well. Some folks don't want the wood refinished.”
“She trusts your taste and leaves that up to you.”
“I'll do one chair and show her the result. If she likes it, then we'll know how to proceed.” I drove home looking like a real hillbilly with the back of my truck full of old furniture.
It was over too soon, the long week with Roy back from school. And to make things worse, he had to spend a few days with his parents at, and this is what he told me, a place he no longer thinks of as home. I already miss him and he's sitting right next to me as we drive back to Williamsburg. He's sitting close enough our thighs are touching and now and then he rests his hand on my leg and gives me a little squeeze.
“Do your parents still believe you're doing a term paper on Mike's business?” asked Tyler, riding shotgun, the reason Roy was sitting so close. “That's the world's longest term paper project.”
“I told them it's a continuing study - that I'm looking at the marketing aspects now. Christmas, after they've paid for the last semester, I'm telling them that the project has turned into a long-term arrangement. In fact I'm going to tell them everything.”
“If you want to tell them now, I'll pay for your school,” I told him, not really sure if I could afford to do that.
“They owe me. I've been a model kid. Plus, they can afford it and I'm the last in line,” he said. He squeezed my thigh to make his point and left his hand on my leg. He's giving me the start of a hard-on and we still have a hundred and fifty miles to go. I covered his hand with mine and gently removed it. He put it back again.
“Everybody seems to like The Flash,” Tyler said, trying not to look at what Roy's hand was doing to me.
“He's awesome!” Roy responded. “Are you and The Flash a thing? You know … a thing? Refo said it's so cute when every night before he goes to bed he says, 'I want to sleep with Tyler now.'”
“I told Refo he's not talking about sex. He means it literally. He's tired and he wants to go to sleep. He likes having me there because he think he sleeps better when I am.”
“So you don't … uh ...”
“We don't. The amazing part is he hugs and kisses me on and off all night. He sleeps great – I'm awake half the night. But it's not sex. It's like I'm a Raggety Andy doll; I'm a talisman or something for him. The night ends; he jumps up smiling; and I'm grumpy with aching balls from being hard all night.”
“I'm gonna have aching balls if you keep messin' with me,” I told Roy.
Roy ignored me and followed up on the Tyler-Flash thing. “But you suck his dick. What's that about?”
“That's when I'm drawing him. He's naked and he's always getting hard. He lets me suck it to make it go down. And then I draw some more and then I suck some more. It's exhausting, plus not getting much sleep at night.”
“Wow! And I thought you were having fun!”
“I am. He's awesome. I could draw him forever. He doesn't like being touched, but he says I touch him with my eyes and it feels good. And ...” Tyler decided he was saying too much and fell silent.
“And what?” Roy insisted. “You can't leave me hangin?”
“And he gives me hand jobs some times. He's fascinated by the … the mechanics of male orgasms. He describes every physical step in the process. You know … play by playt action. Getting hard … balls getting tight ... Now the tube on the bottom of your penis is all puffed out … That kind of stuff.”
“So you are having sex. But not really ... no fuckin', huh?”
“He cannot comprehend the idea of men fucking. Why would you do that, he says. He just can't comprehend that it might feel good. He drives me crazy and then he spends all night kissin' me. He's has some experience with women but he doesn't talk about it. I think that means he doesn't understand what happened. I think he ignores what doesn't make sense to him, like what doesn't make sense isn't real – it doesn't really happen. I think … Listen to me. I've only known him a week and a day.”
“He's staying with Refo. I guess he likes Refo.”
“He does, but he worships Mike. He thinks you're a god or something, Mike.”
“I am. Didn't Roy tell you?” Tyler was sounding a little frantic. I tried to lighten things, which didn't work. It just shut Tyler up. “I've had some talks with him. Made a couple suggestions, that's all.”
“He's thinking about them. He thinks you understand him better than anybody else he's ever known. 'How does he understand all this?' he asked me. 'I never understand anything other people are thinking.' He looks on you the way I looked on my first art teacher. You're his hero.”
That was pretty heavy I thought. It took Roy to successfully change the mood. “So what about your art? Where's that going?”
“I left a bunch of stuff with Refo. All drawings of Otis. He said he knows a dealer in Washington. He's going to get an opinion. School, I'm lately thinking, is a waste of time. I'm not into art history, which is what all the courses boil down to, even the so-called technique stuff. I just want to draw. Paint, maybe. I should be in a studio not a university.”
“How come we've never talked like this before? I feel like I know you a hundred times better after an hour in this truck and we've been roommates almost a year.”
“I kinda had a little crush on you,” Tyler laughed. “I could barely say hello without goin' weak in the knees. Otis has displaced those feelings. I can talk now.”
“So you're gonna be all Chatty Cathy now? I liked you quiet. I could study.”
That got an honest laugh out of Tyler. “You can study and I can get some sleep.”
I dropped them off with the promise I'd be back in time for a late lunch. While they got resettled I went back to the store on Duke of Gloucester Street and entered with the repaired chair in hand. “Hello!” I called out on a quiet, tourist-free Monday.
“Oh, Mister ...” She groped for my name.
“Mike Pierce,” I reminded her. “Here's the chair. I made some repairs ...”
She gasped. “It's perfect! It's just perfect!”
“No, it isn't. I had to make some infill segments, so I made them a slightly different color. That way you can tell the authentic from the Mike-Pierce-imitation parts.”
“It's hardly noticeable.” We walked to a stronger light. “Oh, I see what you mean.” She ran her hand over the spindles and spokes and almost cooed. “I can't feel a seam at all!”
“Yes. So you can actually sit in it without snagging your clothes, but still you can see the extent of the repairs. Restorers do that with sculpture restored from fragments, I thought it might work with furniture. Also, the chair really won't take a lot of abuse – I mean somebody my size shouldn't sit in it. It's a lady's chair.”
“It always was. For the boudoir. I can definitely sell it. Evan!” she called out. “Come look!”
“Mr. Pierce?” A woman came from another part of the store. “I'm Amanda Kellam from Virginia Beach. Do you do restorations?”
“What do you want, Lula?” someone said.
“Hush a minute, Evan.”
“Not normally, Mrs. Kellam, but in this case I did.”
Evan didn't hush. “The chair!” He grabbed it in his hands and examined every inch.
“Miss Kellam, but call me Amanda. I have the remains of a dining room from my grandmother and a few of the chairs are damaged and a few others are missing. It's a wonderful old set. Is that something you would do, Mr. Pierce?”
“The work is superb, Mr. Pierce.” Evan said reverently.
“Called me Mike.”
“Mike” said Amanda and Evan in unison.
“I might could, Amanda. I should probably take a look at the set.”
I'm gay and I know it and there isn't going to be any more sex with my clients, but Amanda Kellam was fascinating. I'm pretty sure she was used to getting what she wanted. And I'm here to tell you , she could have me if she wanted. Professionally, of course.
She gave me her card and I gave her Frank's with my phone number written in. She remarked on Rockingham County and said she enjoyed the mountains and I told her I enjoyed the beach. We both probably lied. “So will you come and see me in the morning?”
Later I told Roy about the offer and said I'd need to spend the night. He was happy about that although I'm not sure Tyler was. Tyler was already trying to take a nap and groaned when he heard I'd be there.
“First I get hugged and kissed but not fucked for a week, now I have to listen to you two all night long?” He put his head under his pillow and moaned. Roy and I stayed in a Red Roof Inn out by I-64, which was fine. Sex with Roy is great anyplace, even in a noisy motel.
In the morning I went to the address Amanda had given me. I noticed that Virginia Beach seemed to be full of a lot of things named Kellam, the largest being a high school.
I found the house easily. It was substantial and well off the road, but fairly modern – not at all what I had expected. I rang the bell and waited for Amanda.
“Mr. Pierce? I'm Trudy, Miss Kellam's assistant. She's sorry she can't be here and asked me to show you the dining room set.”
I was disappointed not to see Amanda herself, but Trudy was competent and efficient. I looked at the furniture which was in a large garage behind the house. “Would Miss Kellam want the furniture just restored to working order or refinished to look new as well. Some folks don't want the wood refinished.”
“She trusts your taste and leaves that up to you.”
“I'll do one chair and show her the result. If she likes it, then we'll know how to proceed.” I drove home looking like a real hillbilly with the back of my truck full of old furniture.
A most enjoyable lunch time read.
Mike gets a reprieve from losing Roy for a bit, and Tyler gets a decent night's sleep.
The true confessions of what has and hasn't been happening - it's not always what we think.
And, Mike may be gay, but he appreciates a fine female.
His artisan craftsmanship looks like it is going to build him a very lucrative business.
Mike gets a reprieve from losing Roy for a bit, and Tyler gets a decent night's sleep.
The true confessions of what has and hasn't been happening - it's not always what we think.
And, Mike may be gay, but he appreciates a fine female.
His artisan craftsmanship looks like it is going to build him a very lucrative business.
Craiger
JUB Addict
What a generous offer Mike made to Roy in paying for his schooling. And, since Mike is beginning to make a name for himself with his restoration abilities, he may well be able to accomplish such a plan. Fortunately though, Roy's parents have the where with all to continue that obligation.
Hopefully Tyler continues his education and finds the means to educate Otis in the pleasures of male sexuality. My feeling is Tyler will succeed. He has found "The Flash" and his world is a bit more complete. And obviously Otis is happy with the arrangement.
You have such great insight and understanding of people, cultures and internal working of each characters minds, Rory. There is a complete story behind every one of them. Thanks!
Craiger
Hopefully Tyler continues his education and finds the means to educate Otis in the pleasures of male sexuality. My feeling is Tyler will succeed. He has found "The Flash" and his world is a bit more complete. And obviously Otis is happy with the arrangement.
You have such great insight and understanding of people, cultures and internal working of each characters minds, Rory. There is a complete story behind every one of them. Thanks!
Craiger
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I have to agree with all that "Don", and "Craiger" have already said!
I find myself not only delighted with the content, but also your literary skills in vividly delivering it!
In other words ... MORE, Please!
Keep Smilin'!!
Chaz
I find myself not only delighted with the content, but also your literary skills in vividly delivering it!
In other words ... MORE, Please!
Keep Smilin'!!
Chaz
EasyRory
JUB Addict
Chapter Forty-Two - Refo
I thought Tyler's drawings of Otis went beyond breathtaking; they were both beautiful and thoughtful. The combination of the dull sienna paper and the charcoal gave the images a haunting quality, one or two removes from reality, a difference that effectively dimmed the raw sexuality of Otis. Unfortunately, one of Washington's best art experts didn't agree.
“The Post would call them exploitation, Refo. They're roast me alive if I showed them in the gallery,” Brent Michaels said with a frown.
“I don't know,” Charles Donovan added. “The new critic for the City Paper would approve. I bet he'd even buy a few. To Brent's point, though, we need an angle, a hook, something else ...” Charles use of “we” encouraged Refo, it sounded as if he was already invested ego if not money in the proposal.
“So what could that hook be?” Brent mused. As a former head curator and director of one of the Smithsonian's museums, he could be trusted to know. “Let's have lunch and think about it.”
Once, and not that long ago, having lunch with Brent would have meant something approaching grand; but after the scandal that cost him his high-visibility job things were simpler. They went to the DGS Delicatessen on Connecticut off DuPont Circle, which was not exactly slumming; but it was light-years away from the Four Seasons Grillroom where Brent once had a regular table.
The atmosphere was a little hustle-bustle for quiet conversation but the food was good. I had the Benedictberg, a combo of poached eggs, salmon, and potato pancakes and decided I needed to learn how to make it, it was that good. But the food wasn't all. I admired a couple of large-format early twentieth-century photographs of old District Grocery Stores, familiarly called DGS, where the deli got its name.
“That's it!” Brent said.
“Is this a 'eureka' moment?” Charles asked with a smile.
“Refo, you're a more than competent photographer. What if you took some photographs of the same model and we could juxtapose them in a joint exhibition? Do you know the model? Would he be available?” Brent's sudden enthusiasm was infectious.
“He lives in my barn at the moment. He might do it. It wouldn't hurt to ask?”
“He lives with you! What does Frank say about that?” Charles asked.
“He does. Oh, you know Frank, he's sooo not jealous. I could probably have sex with a stranger in the back of his truck – with him driving - and he'd pass it off as a modest mid-life crisis or something.” Brent and Charles smiled at each other, not over my lame joke, over something private.
“We're married, you know.”
“I didn't know! When?”
“Well, if you'd come into the city more often …” Charles scolded. “Three months and eleven days ago, to be precise. It was your friend Charlie that convinced us.”
Brent intervened. “Back to the photographs for a minute. I don't want to tell you your business, but a common thread of some kind … as if the drawings and the photos are two takes on the same thing. Which they would be, of course. But I think if a connection were very visible … something to tie the two visions together, other than just the obvious use of the same model … Well, that's something for you to think about, Refo. You're the artist. Did you know a little gallery on S Street showed some of your chickens?”
“What! Really?”
“They weren't try to sell them; they were used as an illustration of technique. The ingenious way you used blues.”
“I had to. That was the breed! Blue Hens!”
Brent laughed. “I'll tell the gallery owner. He's been crediting you with Warhol-like genius for color.”
Ahh, genius … as if! It was fun being back in Washington where more happens in a minute than Rockingham County sees in a year; but speed is always relative. My need to get clear of the city was making me drive faster than I normally would. It was producing a tension in my shoulders. Relief came with distance; the closer I got to home the slower I drove, the more I relaxed, and the better I felt. And the sight of Frank's truck just infused me with either peaceful excitement or excited peace. Who could be sure?
“What?” He questioned my eager hug.
“I love you,” I told him and gave him my special fuck-me kiss on the neck. “Are we alone?”
“Everybody's at Mike's,” Frank confirmed. “They won't be home for an hour I'd guess.”
“An hour isn't enough, but it's a start.” I fumbled with Frank's belt and couldn't get it open. He picked me up and carried me into the bedroom, saying that somebody might get home early.
Frank's beautiful. Not everybody would say that, but he really is. His body is so lean and taut. I think maybe he's gained a half a pound total in the four years I've known him and I suspect that was in his dick. He got us naked and gave me his little smile, not the big one, which means he's laughing at me, but his little one, which says he's still a little in awe of me, which is amazing considering what an asshole I was in the beginning. I think it makes our sex better now, though; it definitely makes me more appreciative of his persistence, his constancy. And he's so good at making me come.
“I can't believe what a shit I was to you when ...” I was still breathless from coming.
“You didn't mean to be. You just didn't love me then.”
“You always loved me? Even then?”
“Always, from the minute I met you.”
I don't know if I can ever make it up to him for the pain I caused. I was such a slut with other guys and he just waited for me, never criticized, rarely complained. I try to make it up, though, and he makes it so easy to love him now.
We heard Sarah Felsen and Will come in and groaned to each other at the interrruption. “More later,” I whispered.
“Refo, where the fuck are you?” Sarah asked in a shrill screech.
“Sweetie, take it easy. You think we're alone?” Will countered.
“Sweetie? He called her sweetie?” I whispered to Frank.
“We shouldn't be listening,” Frank whispered back.
“Will, stop,” Sarah said.
“I can't. I want you all the time.”
“Will!” Sarah said with greater urgency.
“You have beautiful body. I want to see it right now.”
“Guys are so CONCRETE! Why can't you be a little more ethereal?” Sarah groaned. Frank had to kiss me to keep me from giggling.
“I told you I love you. See? Here's the proof!”
“Willis, pull your pants up and GET into the bedroom.”
“Not til you say you love me.” A pause. “Say it, Sadie Lin ...”
She heaved a huge sigh of exasperation and then things went silent. Suddenly, “Someone's coming! Will, grab out shoes.”
First we heard only a flurry of activity followed by, “Merle, aren't you glad we ran back?” It was Otis's voice and Merle's panting. “Iwish you could talk. That way I would know for sure what you are thinking. Really? I guess you are right. You do talk, you just don't use words.” There was a pause. “Will! Do you like flashing? Sometimes I wear just shoes, too.”
“Uh, right … Sorry ...” Quick footsteps, presumably Will exiting.
“We live in a zoo!” Frank whispered.
“Yeah, but I like the animals,” I told him.
Frank went out into the big room while I finished dressing. I listened to him talk to Merle and Otis both and they happily responded. It sounded like there were three people out there, one who didn't say much. See why I like having a house full?
I joined them. “I took Tyler's drawings to an art dealer today,” I explained.
“The ones of me?” Otis asked with intense interest.
“Yes, he thinks they could be in an exhibition.”
“So lots of people would look at them? The Flash would like that.”
“Yes, but the dealer thought we need something more. To enhance interest. Academic interest. Critics' and experts' interest.”
“What is more?” Otis asked.
“More would be photographs of you showing another side of your personality.”
“Naked photographs?” Otis asked.
“They wouldn't have to be, but they could be. If you want to. It's all up to you.”
“Refo, are you sure?” Frank asked; his skepticism came through loud and clear.
“It's up to Otis. He knows I'm only talking about photographs. Nothing else.”
“And people would look at the photographs, too? Lots of people?” Otis questioned.
“Yes.”
“The Flash wants to show them his body. He likes people to look at him.” It was a strange comment. Otis seemed to be more aware of The Flash and increasingly regarded him as a distinct personality.
The next morning Otis and Merle went out for their morning romp after Frank, Sarah Felsen, and Will had left for the day. They returned in a half hour, pretty much ignored me, and drank water together. Then Otis went into his room.
“What's up, Merle?” I asked and my dog looked at me and slowly fanned the air with his tail. “I guess that means I don't know,” I told him and he wagged his tail a little faster.
“Ok,” Otis said. He stood naked in the door. “Where is your camera? The Flash is ready for pictures.”
“Are you sure, Otis?”
“I'm The Flash. I like it when people look at me,” he answered.
I thought Tyler's drawings of Otis went beyond breathtaking; they were both beautiful and thoughtful. The combination of the dull sienna paper and the charcoal gave the images a haunting quality, one or two removes from reality, a difference that effectively dimmed the raw sexuality of Otis. Unfortunately, one of Washington's best art experts didn't agree.
“The Post would call them exploitation, Refo. They're roast me alive if I showed them in the gallery,” Brent Michaels said with a frown.
“I don't know,” Charles Donovan added. “The new critic for the City Paper would approve. I bet he'd even buy a few. To Brent's point, though, we need an angle, a hook, something else ...” Charles use of “we” encouraged Refo, it sounded as if he was already invested ego if not money in the proposal.
“So what could that hook be?” Brent mused. As a former head curator and director of one of the Smithsonian's museums, he could be trusted to know. “Let's have lunch and think about it.”
Once, and not that long ago, having lunch with Brent would have meant something approaching grand; but after the scandal that cost him his high-visibility job things were simpler. They went to the DGS Delicatessen on Connecticut off DuPont Circle, which was not exactly slumming; but it was light-years away from the Four Seasons Grillroom where Brent once had a regular table.
The atmosphere was a little hustle-bustle for quiet conversation but the food was good. I had the Benedictberg, a combo of poached eggs, salmon, and potato pancakes and decided I needed to learn how to make it, it was that good. But the food wasn't all. I admired a couple of large-format early twentieth-century photographs of old District Grocery Stores, familiarly called DGS, where the deli got its name.
“That's it!” Brent said.
“Is this a 'eureka' moment?” Charles asked with a smile.
“Refo, you're a more than competent photographer. What if you took some photographs of the same model and we could juxtapose them in a joint exhibition? Do you know the model? Would he be available?” Brent's sudden enthusiasm was infectious.
“He lives in my barn at the moment. He might do it. It wouldn't hurt to ask?”
“He lives with you! What does Frank say about that?” Charles asked.
“He does. Oh, you know Frank, he's sooo not jealous. I could probably have sex with a stranger in the back of his truck – with him driving - and he'd pass it off as a modest mid-life crisis or something.” Brent and Charles smiled at each other, not over my lame joke, over something private.
“We're married, you know.”
“I didn't know! When?”
“Well, if you'd come into the city more often …” Charles scolded. “Three months and eleven days ago, to be precise. It was your friend Charlie that convinced us.”
Brent intervened. “Back to the photographs for a minute. I don't want to tell you your business, but a common thread of some kind … as if the drawings and the photos are two takes on the same thing. Which they would be, of course. But I think if a connection were very visible … something to tie the two visions together, other than just the obvious use of the same model … Well, that's something for you to think about, Refo. You're the artist. Did you know a little gallery on S Street showed some of your chickens?”
“What! Really?”
“They weren't try to sell them; they were used as an illustration of technique. The ingenious way you used blues.”
“I had to. That was the breed! Blue Hens!”
Brent laughed. “I'll tell the gallery owner. He's been crediting you with Warhol-like genius for color.”
Ahh, genius … as if! It was fun being back in Washington where more happens in a minute than Rockingham County sees in a year; but speed is always relative. My need to get clear of the city was making me drive faster than I normally would. It was producing a tension in my shoulders. Relief came with distance; the closer I got to home the slower I drove, the more I relaxed, and the better I felt. And the sight of Frank's truck just infused me with either peaceful excitement or excited peace. Who could be sure?
“What?” He questioned my eager hug.
“I love you,” I told him and gave him my special fuck-me kiss on the neck. “Are we alone?”
“Everybody's at Mike's,” Frank confirmed. “They won't be home for an hour I'd guess.”
“An hour isn't enough, but it's a start.” I fumbled with Frank's belt and couldn't get it open. He picked me up and carried me into the bedroom, saying that somebody might get home early.
Frank's beautiful. Not everybody would say that, but he really is. His body is so lean and taut. I think maybe he's gained a half a pound total in the four years I've known him and I suspect that was in his dick. He got us naked and gave me his little smile, not the big one, which means he's laughing at me, but his little one, which says he's still a little in awe of me, which is amazing considering what an asshole I was in the beginning. I think it makes our sex better now, though; it definitely makes me more appreciative of his persistence, his constancy. And he's so good at making me come.
“I can't believe what a shit I was to you when ...” I was still breathless from coming.
“You didn't mean to be. You just didn't love me then.”
“You always loved me? Even then?”
“Always, from the minute I met you.”
I don't know if I can ever make it up to him for the pain I caused. I was such a slut with other guys and he just waited for me, never criticized, rarely complained. I try to make it up, though, and he makes it so easy to love him now.
We heard Sarah Felsen and Will come in and groaned to each other at the interrruption. “More later,” I whispered.
“Refo, where the fuck are you?” Sarah asked in a shrill screech.
“Sweetie, take it easy. You think we're alone?” Will countered.
“Sweetie? He called her sweetie?” I whispered to Frank.
“We shouldn't be listening,” Frank whispered back.
“Will, stop,” Sarah said.
“I can't. I want you all the time.”
“Will!” Sarah said with greater urgency.
“You have beautiful body. I want to see it right now.”
“Guys are so CONCRETE! Why can't you be a little more ethereal?” Sarah groaned. Frank had to kiss me to keep me from giggling.
“I told you I love you. See? Here's the proof!”
“Willis, pull your pants up and GET into the bedroom.”
“Not til you say you love me.” A pause. “Say it, Sadie Lin ...”
She heaved a huge sigh of exasperation and then things went silent. Suddenly, “Someone's coming! Will, grab out shoes.”
First we heard only a flurry of activity followed by, “Merle, aren't you glad we ran back?” It was Otis's voice and Merle's panting. “Iwish you could talk. That way I would know for sure what you are thinking. Really? I guess you are right. You do talk, you just don't use words.” There was a pause. “Will! Do you like flashing? Sometimes I wear just shoes, too.”
“Uh, right … Sorry ...” Quick footsteps, presumably Will exiting.
“We live in a zoo!” Frank whispered.
“Yeah, but I like the animals,” I told him.
Frank went out into the big room while I finished dressing. I listened to him talk to Merle and Otis both and they happily responded. It sounded like there were three people out there, one who didn't say much. See why I like having a house full?
I joined them. “I took Tyler's drawings to an art dealer today,” I explained.
“The ones of me?” Otis asked with intense interest.
“Yes, he thinks they could be in an exhibition.”
“So lots of people would look at them? The Flash would like that.”
“Yes, but the dealer thought we need something more. To enhance interest. Academic interest. Critics' and experts' interest.”
“What is more?” Otis asked.
“More would be photographs of you showing another side of your personality.”
“Naked photographs?” Otis asked.
“They wouldn't have to be, but they could be. If you want to. It's all up to you.”
“Refo, are you sure?” Frank asked; his skepticism came through loud and clear.
“It's up to Otis. He knows I'm only talking about photographs. Nothing else.”
“And people would look at the photographs, too? Lots of people?” Otis questioned.
“Yes.”
“The Flash wants to show them his body. He likes people to look at him.” It was a strange comment. Otis seemed to be more aware of The Flash and increasingly regarded him as a distinct personality.
The next morning Otis and Merle went out for their morning romp after Frank, Sarah Felsen, and Will had left for the day. They returned in a half hour, pretty much ignored me, and drank water together. Then Otis went into his room.
“What's up, Merle?” I asked and my dog looked at me and slowly fanned the air with his tail. “I guess that means I don't know,” I told him and he wagged his tail a little faster.
“Ok,” Otis said. He stood naked in the door. “Where is your camera? The Flash is ready for pictures.”
“Are you sure, Otis?”
“I'm The Flash. I like it when people look at me,” he answered.
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Wow! I'm liking the zoo, and the animals in it, too! 
It will be interesting to see (hear) the results of Tyler's sketches paired with Refo's photos.
I've gotta give The Flash, and YOU, lot's of credit!
Keep Smilin'!!
Chaz
It will be interesting to see (hear) the results of Tyler's sketches paired with Refo's photos.
I've gotta give The Flash, and YOU, lot's of credit!
Keep Smilin'!!
Chaz
Rory,
An intriguing installment - but so many of your chapters are any more.
Otis v. The Flash - that could be scary.
Refo's photgraphic prowess - artful nudes of The Flash to counterpoint the sketches - will there be an online gallery of all for those of us not in the immediate area of our Nation's Capitol?
A little trip down memory lane with the art gallery - have to dig into my cranial recesses to flesh out that story.
An intriguing installment - but so many of your chapters are any more.
Otis v. The Flash - that could be scary.
Refo's photgraphic prowess - artful nudes of The Flash to counterpoint the sketches - will there be an online gallery of all for those of us not in the immediate area of our Nation's Capitol?
A little trip down memory lane with the art gallery - have to dig into my cranial recesses to flesh out that story.
Craiger
JUB Addict
I also like the animals in this particular zoo. Brent hit on an excellent way to intrigue the gallery owners and critics alike. The Flash will be famous and his ability to show his body legally will be displayed all over town. Otis, on the other hand... I'm beginning to wonder if there are more personalities waiting to burst forth. Fun and interesting chapter, Rory.
Craiger
Craiger
EasyRory
JUB Addict
Brent and Charles were minor characters in "Change at Gallery Place." They seem to fit in here again.
Brent's fifty-ish, a former Washington wunderkind and pretty boy, who is still in pretty good shape. After being fired from his job in disgrace over a very controversial show, Brent was very depressed; Charles helped pull him out of it. Brent realized that Charles was not the love of his life, but was probably as close to it as he was ever going to find - he has come to appreciate him more and more, enough to marry him.
Charles is much younger - just out of school the last time we saw him - so maybe he's 25 by now, probably too serious for a young man, but he loves Brent. It's not clear to me how satisfied Charles really is in Brent's professional shadow; he may be more ambitious than anybody including himself knows.
Is that enough of a reminder? Change at Gallery Place was such a mess of a tale; I figured I ought to save you the trouble of having to reread any of it.
LoL. Great Synopsis. You should have included the link for everyone after that robust self-salesmanship on the story!