Never a dull moment around the boys of the District and its surrounds, Rory. Never a dull moment.
(That's the title of a vintage book, btw.)
(That's the title of a vintage book, btw.)
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In Praise of Hanes
- Thread starter EasyRory
- Start date
EasyRory
JUB Addict
Speaking of vintage, I recently read a P G Wodehouse story, A Damsel in Distress, from 1919. Not one of the Jeeves books, it was fresh and funny. Some things don't change.
This is a little more contemporary - 40's and 50's I suspect.
EasyRory
JUB Addict
Chapter Forty-Six
“What color range were you thinking about?” Sarah Felsen demanded when I got back to the lab.
“Huh?”
“Colors! For the rug, of course! Reds? Greens? Beiges? Blues are not so good, usually.”
I thought it over. “Green, I guess.”
“Good choice. Unusual, but not uncommon. What size?”
“Huh?”
“Size, Refo. Rugs come in sizes you know ...”
I've never been a size queen, but she had a point. “Big is always nice.”
She was very patient, obviously enjoying her superior attainments in rug selection. Finally she asked a pertinent question. “What's it for? Where are you going to put the rug?”
“In the bedroom. The floor is cold.”
“So you want two rugs … one for each side of the bed. I'm guessing five by eights, maybe?”
“The bed is against the wall. There is only one side ...”
“Change it. Pull it away from the wall – I'm assuming the room is big enough.”
“Well, right now it's almost half a barn ...” That clue really fished her in. She loved the idea of the barn makeover.
“Awesome. So green rugs to go with brown and gray tones … Awesome. Can I see the place? I'd love to watch a barn project proceed.” A familiar face appeared interrupting her.
“Woodie!” we both exclaimed. She was pleased to see him; I was appalled. He had matured since I last had seen him; he had gained a couple of pounds and projected a less awkward physical presence.
“Here's my proposal for the semester,” he said, placing a slim binder on Sarah's to-do pile. “They want us back at orientation.” With that and a polite nod to me he was gone.
“Yes …,” Sarah temporized. “He's doing a work-study semester here.” She tried to keep it professional but failed. “He doesn't know, Refo. And don't you tell him ANYTHING! Is that CLEAR?”
“Deep breaths, Sarah. Think about rugs ...”
“Fuck you!” she said and left for parts unknown.
Blessed silence reigned. I completed the first edit of my paper pretty pleased with its progress. I had managed to systematize my approach to the research results, but some of the figures needed work. There is an art to graphs; scale is just as important as the actual data. Gross manipulation of the proportions is cheating, of course; but a 'helpful' presentation is, well, helpful to the argument. The afternoon passed quickly. At about five-thirty, I began to think I'd be lucky to make it to the barn by eight, especially if the threatening weather turned to rain.
There were people who did two-hour commutes every day. They just took it as a fact-of-life, but it shouldn't be. Commuting sucks and I hated being a commuter. I needed to find some other way, but what? Maybe Krol Farms would pay me enough to afford a helicopter. Now there's a fantasy for you. It made Frank's call especially welcome.
“Reef, I'm in Falls Church leaving a client's office. Can we stay at your place tonight?”
“Can you leave your truck and take the Metro? It would be faster, Frank.” I wanted to see him right away. Physical demand? Emotional need? I don't know. I wanted to be near him right away.
“Merle's with me,” Frank explained.
“Pretend he's a seeing-eye dog.”
“A blind seeing-eye dog? I'll see you by seven,” Frank laughed.
“He's not blind,” I said to the dead phone, smiling at the vision of Merle on the subway. “He just looks blind, kind of ...” I wanted to kiss the phone for freeing me from the long drive into Virginia; instead I pocketed it and left the lab for home.
“Stan,” I said to my landlord. “Could I do one more night with the dog?”
“That skinny guy with the Delaware plates? I didn't think he was so bad. You've done worse.”
Stan obviously was paying more attention to comings and goings than I thought. “No, not him. The real dog. The one I thought I got rid of.”
“Well ...”
“Please? Just one more night.”
“Ok, I guess; but the skinny guy … is he … are you two ...” He didn't know how to ask me.
“No, we're not. He works for the same company I've been doing some work for. He just needed a place for the night.”
“I see ...Yeah, well … Ok ... It may be crowded, though ...”
I couldn't figure out what Stan meant until I entered my bedroom. “What the fuck?” I said to the lumps in my blanket.
“Refo ...” Carter groaned. Another head, Lucien's, popped up. I had plainly awakened them from a deep sleep.
“What are you doing here?”
“Sleeping … Sarah kept us busy last night,” Carter answered. “Actually she threw us out temporarily,” he added when he saw I wanted more from him.
“How long is temporarily?” I demanded.
“Until she can get Woodie used to the idea,” Carter replied.
Lucien looked at Carter impatiently. “Everybody doesn't have to know everything,” he hissed.
“Get Woodie used to the idea of what?” I asked distractedly. Lucien got out of bed and walked into the bathroom; naked, he was enough to distract anybody.
Carter watched me watching Lucien. “Now you see why I can't leave him alone,” he said. “Woodie needs to broaden his mind a bit.”
“And ...”
“Learn to accept the idea that we can all ...share, I guess is the word … share Sarah.”
“You and Sarah are a part of the deal, too?”
“I don't want any part of her, but it's the price I pay for keeping Lucien. If I want to fuck one, I have to … you know what I mean. I don't have to spell it out for you.”
“So who's fucking Woodie, exactly?”
“Yeah, well, there's the problem. Sarah wants everybody to be … compatible, but Woodie isn't down for that, exactly. Not yet, anyway … So Sarah is working on him and ...”
“And you?”
“I'm not down for it at all, but what choice do I have?”
“You could go back to Cleveland and raise cross-eyed dogs,” Lucien inserted. “There's always that choice.” He emerged from the bathroom and encountered trouble finding his clothes.
“You'd like that, wouldn't you?” Carter answered back testily. It sounded like a discussion they had had before.
“You know I wouldn't,” Lucien said, picking up an article of clothing from the floor.
“Woof!” Merle said, bounding into the room. He snatched Lucien's underwear out of his grasp and promptly returned to the living room. We could hear him growling and shaking himself, making sure the underwear was dead.
Carter chuckled. I laughed out loud. Even Lucien smiled. Frank didn't.
“You just never know who you'll find in Refo's bed,” he observed.
“Frank, you know Carter and Lucien ...” I tried to smooth things.
“I recognize them from their pictures,” he said evenly. ”Are you naked too?” he asked, glancing from Lucien to the blanket-covered Carter.
Carter's eyes widened in alarm. You wouldn't want to say the wrong thing to a pissed-off Frank. Dead silence followed.
“Just kidding!” Frank said, breaking the spell. “The traffic through this bedroom is interesting, though.”
“Refo, the dog is chewing up something … Whoa! Aren't you cutie!” Euie remarked to the naked Lucien. “Has everybody met Jeremy? He makes a wicked Negroni! I ought to know. I've sucked on a few.” Euie's laugh confirmed the effects of alcohol on speech patterns.
“Are we all getting naked? Or just some of us?” Jeremy asked, apparently willing to go either way.
The scene's complexity was increased by the appearance of Merle at the door. Shreds of Lucien's underwear hung from his mouth as he surveyed the proceedings.
“I'm going to make coffee,” I announced. “Then we're going to establish 'Refo's Rules of Order' for this place. And underwear is not on the menu.” I extracted the garment's remains from Merle's mouth.
“They were expensive,” the naked but thrifty Swiss complained, reaching for his jeans.
“I've got some called 'Every Day is Christmas',” Euie contributed. He pulled his pants down enough to display a flash of red. “Amazing what the price get for underwear in some stores.”
“You know I was saying just the same thing to my ex-lover, who left a bunch of really nice UnderArmor behind,” Jeremy said.
“I wear Hanes,” Carter explained, displaying gray boxer briefs as he got out of bed.
“Merle goes commando,” Frank chuckled.
“You people are crazy. I'm making coffee. And anyone who wants to drink it better be clothed.”
“Awwww, Refo.” “So harsh ...” “A real martinet...” “So who's fuckin' who tonight?”
That last question sounded like Jeremy, I thought. His voice was distinctive even in this crowd.
“What color range were you thinking about?” Sarah Felsen demanded when I got back to the lab.
“Huh?”
“Colors! For the rug, of course! Reds? Greens? Beiges? Blues are not so good, usually.”
I thought it over. “Green, I guess.”
“Good choice. Unusual, but not uncommon. What size?”
“Huh?”
“Size, Refo. Rugs come in sizes you know ...”
I've never been a size queen, but she had a point. “Big is always nice.”
She was very patient, obviously enjoying her superior attainments in rug selection. Finally she asked a pertinent question. “What's it for? Where are you going to put the rug?”
“In the bedroom. The floor is cold.”
“So you want two rugs … one for each side of the bed. I'm guessing five by eights, maybe?”
“The bed is against the wall. There is only one side ...”
“Change it. Pull it away from the wall – I'm assuming the room is big enough.”
“Well, right now it's almost half a barn ...” That clue really fished her in. She loved the idea of the barn makeover.
“Awesome. So green rugs to go with brown and gray tones … Awesome. Can I see the place? I'd love to watch a barn project proceed.” A familiar face appeared interrupting her.
“Woodie!” we both exclaimed. She was pleased to see him; I was appalled. He had matured since I last had seen him; he had gained a couple of pounds and projected a less awkward physical presence.
“Here's my proposal for the semester,” he said, placing a slim binder on Sarah's to-do pile. “They want us back at orientation.” With that and a polite nod to me he was gone.
“Yes …,” Sarah temporized. “He's doing a work-study semester here.” She tried to keep it professional but failed. “He doesn't know, Refo. And don't you tell him ANYTHING! Is that CLEAR?”
“Deep breaths, Sarah. Think about rugs ...”
“Fuck you!” she said and left for parts unknown.
Blessed silence reigned. I completed the first edit of my paper pretty pleased with its progress. I had managed to systematize my approach to the research results, but some of the figures needed work. There is an art to graphs; scale is just as important as the actual data. Gross manipulation of the proportions is cheating, of course; but a 'helpful' presentation is, well, helpful to the argument. The afternoon passed quickly. At about five-thirty, I began to think I'd be lucky to make it to the barn by eight, especially if the threatening weather turned to rain.
There were people who did two-hour commutes every day. They just took it as a fact-of-life, but it shouldn't be. Commuting sucks and I hated being a commuter. I needed to find some other way, but what? Maybe Krol Farms would pay me enough to afford a helicopter. Now there's a fantasy for you. It made Frank's call especially welcome.
“Reef, I'm in Falls Church leaving a client's office. Can we stay at your place tonight?”
“Can you leave your truck and take the Metro? It would be faster, Frank.” I wanted to see him right away. Physical demand? Emotional need? I don't know. I wanted to be near him right away.
“Merle's with me,” Frank explained.
“Pretend he's a seeing-eye dog.”
“A blind seeing-eye dog? I'll see you by seven,” Frank laughed.
“He's not blind,” I said to the dead phone, smiling at the vision of Merle on the subway. “He just looks blind, kind of ...” I wanted to kiss the phone for freeing me from the long drive into Virginia; instead I pocketed it and left the lab for home.
“Stan,” I said to my landlord. “Could I do one more night with the dog?”
“That skinny guy with the Delaware plates? I didn't think he was so bad. You've done worse.”
Stan obviously was paying more attention to comings and goings than I thought. “No, not him. The real dog. The one I thought I got rid of.”
“Well ...”
“Please? Just one more night.”
“Ok, I guess; but the skinny guy … is he … are you two ...” He didn't know how to ask me.
“No, we're not. He works for the same company I've been doing some work for. He just needed a place for the night.”
“I see ...Yeah, well … Ok ... It may be crowded, though ...”
I couldn't figure out what Stan meant until I entered my bedroom. “What the fuck?” I said to the lumps in my blanket.
“Refo ...” Carter groaned. Another head, Lucien's, popped up. I had plainly awakened them from a deep sleep.
“What are you doing here?”
“Sleeping … Sarah kept us busy last night,” Carter answered. “Actually she threw us out temporarily,” he added when he saw I wanted more from him.
“How long is temporarily?” I demanded.
“Until she can get Woodie used to the idea,” Carter replied.
Lucien looked at Carter impatiently. “Everybody doesn't have to know everything,” he hissed.
“Get Woodie used to the idea of what?” I asked distractedly. Lucien got out of bed and walked into the bathroom; naked, he was enough to distract anybody.
Carter watched me watching Lucien. “Now you see why I can't leave him alone,” he said. “Woodie needs to broaden his mind a bit.”
“And ...”
“Learn to accept the idea that we can all ...share, I guess is the word … share Sarah.”
“You and Sarah are a part of the deal, too?”
“I don't want any part of her, but it's the price I pay for keeping Lucien. If I want to fuck one, I have to … you know what I mean. I don't have to spell it out for you.”
“So who's fucking Woodie, exactly?”
“Yeah, well, there's the problem. Sarah wants everybody to be … compatible, but Woodie isn't down for that, exactly. Not yet, anyway … So Sarah is working on him and ...”
“And you?”
“I'm not down for it at all, but what choice do I have?”
“You could go back to Cleveland and raise cross-eyed dogs,” Lucien inserted. “There's always that choice.” He emerged from the bathroom and encountered trouble finding his clothes.
“You'd like that, wouldn't you?” Carter answered back testily. It sounded like a discussion they had had before.
“You know I wouldn't,” Lucien said, picking up an article of clothing from the floor.
“Woof!” Merle said, bounding into the room. He snatched Lucien's underwear out of his grasp and promptly returned to the living room. We could hear him growling and shaking himself, making sure the underwear was dead.
Carter chuckled. I laughed out loud. Even Lucien smiled. Frank didn't.
“You just never know who you'll find in Refo's bed,” he observed.
“Frank, you know Carter and Lucien ...” I tried to smooth things.
“I recognize them from their pictures,” he said evenly. ”Are you naked too?” he asked, glancing from Lucien to the blanket-covered Carter.
Carter's eyes widened in alarm. You wouldn't want to say the wrong thing to a pissed-off Frank. Dead silence followed.
“Just kidding!” Frank said, breaking the spell. “The traffic through this bedroom is interesting, though.”
“Refo, the dog is chewing up something … Whoa! Aren't you cutie!” Euie remarked to the naked Lucien. “Has everybody met Jeremy? He makes a wicked Negroni! I ought to know. I've sucked on a few.” Euie's laugh confirmed the effects of alcohol on speech patterns.
“Are we all getting naked? Or just some of us?” Jeremy asked, apparently willing to go either way.
The scene's complexity was increased by the appearance of Merle at the door. Shreds of Lucien's underwear hung from his mouth as he surveyed the proceedings.
“I'm going to make coffee,” I announced. “Then we're going to establish 'Refo's Rules of Order' for this place. And underwear is not on the menu.” I extracted the garment's remains from Merle's mouth.
“They were expensive,” the naked but thrifty Swiss complained, reaching for his jeans.
“I've got some called 'Every Day is Christmas',” Euie contributed. He pulled his pants down enough to display a flash of red. “Amazing what the price get for underwear in some stores.”
“You know I was saying just the same thing to my ex-lover, who left a bunch of really nice UnderArmor behind,” Jeremy said.
“I wear Hanes,” Carter explained, displaying gray boxer briefs as he got out of bed.
“Merle goes commando,” Frank chuckled.
“You people are crazy. I'm making coffee. And anyone who wants to drink it better be clothed.”
“Awwww, Refo.” “So harsh ...” “A real martinet...” “So who's fuckin' who tonight?”
That last question sounded like Jeremy, I thought. His voice was distinctive even in this crowd.
Gang Bang in Refo's apartment - except that Frank and Refo will be in the Bedroom with the dog, while everyone else fights for position in the living room, methinks.
You DO keep us hopping with the hot and playful partnerings.
You DO keep us hopping with the hot and playful partnerings.
EasyRory
JUB Addict
Thanks uncut702. The next chapter is dedicated to you.
- - - Updated - - -
Chapter Forty-Seven
I was only semi-awake when Frank whispered he was taking Merle back to the country. The room was beautifully cool with the window open and quiet. The rest of the household must still be asleep, I decided. I had to wonder if Frank and I were the only people who actually had jobs. After a few more moments of luxury in bed, spent thinking about Frank, I got up and hurried into a hot shower.
Last night was the first time in … how long? How long had it been since we went a whole night without sex? The amazing part was I felt just as good. Proximity wasn't totally satisfying, of course, but just being there, wherever Frank was, meant a lot of contentment.
Tip-toeing my way to the kitchen, I surveyed the scene in the living room. Carter and Lucien were on the air mattress, sleeping peacefully with Lucien's arm very possessively draped over Carter. That was new. And on the sofa there was Jeremy with Euie behind jammed in behind him. What? Wait! Euie didn't have a fuzzy mop of hair. I looked more closely at the hidden body. An eye opened.
“Yo, Refo,” the voice called softly.
“Jawan??? When did you get here? Never mind, I don't have time ...” I gulped some orange juice, swished it around like mouthwash, and wondered where the hell Euie had gone. Maybe back to Delaware, or into the arms of Arcuri, or up the chimney in his Christmas underwear like Santa Claus. I left the glass in the sink and got my coat. I needed to get to the lab early to work on my paper.
“Refo,” Stan whispered urgently from his part of the house, as I was about to exit our common front door.
“Stan, don't worry. The dog is gone.”
He shook his head dismissing that problem. “How often do you get tested for AIDS?”
“What?” What kind of question was that? And then I saw a flash of “Everyday is Christmas” underwear in Stan's hallway.
“Hey, Reef!” Euie called out brightly.
“You fucked Euie? I thought you were straight!” I whispered.
“Not exactly. How often?” Stan hissed urgently.
“Not exactly about the fucking or about being straight?” He just glared at me. “Not very often. Every few months. I can do it myself at work. You need a test?”
Before Stan could answer Euie joined him at the door in the red underpants and a t-shirt. “What's so important at this hour, huh?”
“Just talking about the dog, Euie. I'll see you after work, Stan.” I turned and left.
I shouldn't have rushed to work. Not only was the Mazda making expensive-sounding noises again, but a fiendish Sarah Felsen was already there, lying in wait, ready to gloat.
“ 'S up, oh creature of the night?” I greeted her.
“If you're referring to Woodie, he's a little problem, well, not so little, if you know what I mean. But you, Refo. You have bigger problems – MUCH bigger.” She leered ominously. My only consolation was the knowledge that every day she was growing older and pretty soon those lush boobs would be down around her knees and on that day she would need a steel-belted brassiere to hold them up.
“Do they even make steel-belted brassieres?” I wondered aloud.
“Hah!” She retorted reading my mind and pushing out her chest. “Check out the latest Nature in PubMed.” It sounded like a challenge.
I called up the data base and scanned the table of contents of the prestigious journal. My heart sank. A Japanese lab had published ahead of me. I scanned the abstract and then read it carefully. Their paper was so much more elegant than mine, more comprehensive, with better data, answering questions I hadn't even thought of yet and indicating paths for further inquiry. And you can bet the Japanese were already far down those paths.
“So, Refo, saggy tits are a minor matter compared to no professional future, wouldn't you say? God! And I almost married you.” Her used her cackling laugh, sounding like the Witch Hazel on MDMA.
Wouldn't you think an aborted pregnancy would make a person more compassionate? In Sarah Felsen's case it was embittering. Cue Woodie to come in at that moment all cow-eyed and worshipful. He headed directly for Sarah Felsen. I might as well not have been there.
“I can't find Carter; but I'll tell him today, Sarah. I promise. It won't be so bad. I can see that now. We can make it work.”
I watched him leave. “What sordid compromise have you forced him into?”
“A series of interdependencies among four adults, all leading to universal harmony,” she cooed.
“All leading to you, you mean.”
“Same thing, Refo. Same thing ...” She breezed out of the lab humming some tuneless hellish anthem.
She left me a mess. The critical wound wasn't just that I had been beaten into print - it was much worse; and if Sarah Felsen could figure it out, everybody else would see it, too. The fact was that Japanese paper was immeasurable better than mine was or ever would be, no matter how many revisions I went through, no matter how much extra data I appended, no matter how visionary my conclusions might be. My paper represented competent research; theirs was an almost sublime contribution to science.
I went to see my boss. “Arnold ...” I began.
“Perhaps you should call me Dr. Bloch,” he said. “The new clinical director is interested in putting a little distance between senior staff and fellows.”
“I'm not a fellow. I'm tenured, Dr. Bloch.”
“Really? Are you sure, Reno? Or is it Rollo?”
“How about Dr. Fitzjohn? Would that establish the right distance?” I shouldn't have said it. I knew it before the words were even uttered. This was not going well at all.
“Yes, I see. Well, what is it you NEED, Doctor?” He emphasized that fact I needed something, not him.
“I wanted to let you know that a lab in Japan has beaten me to print.”
“Oh, that. Yes, I knew, Dr. Takeda called last week to tell me.”
“And you never told me?”
“You weren't here, Doctor. There was 'something more pressing' you told my secretary.”
“There was, actually ...”
“So, is there anything else?”
There wasn't and I left. His secretary gave me a pitying look and a little smile. “At least he didn't call you Rocco again,” she consoled.
Glum would be painting my mood wildly better than it was. As I approached the coffee machine, I caught the tail end of an annoying conversation.
“So I figure it'll be ok, you know, … now and then. Sex is sex, right? It's all good, right?” a very uncertain Woodie said to Carter.
“No it isn't all good,” I butted in. “Compromise sex is about as good as this coffee machine.”
“I'm getting tea,” Carter said giving me a warning glance. “The tea is pretty good.”
“So you're gonna let Lucien and Carter fuck you so you can fuck Sarah? Is that the deal?” I said to Woodie.
“Fuck me? Who said anything about fuckin' me? Sarah said I'd be fuckin' them! ” Woodie was astonished.
“Well, the first time, maybe ...” Carter temporized.
“Nobody's fuckin' ME!” Woodie was adamant.
“Woodie, it's not that big a deal,” Carter suggested.
“IT IS! It's a HUGE deal!” Woodie sputtered briefly. “I'm talking to Sarah!”
“Sorry,” I said to Carter.
“I told Sarah it was a risky negotiation,” Carter shrugged. “Now Lucien will jump the track and Sarah is SO demanding ...”
“Carter …” I began. “Never mind – another time.” I wanted to ask him about how things were really going with Lucien, but the time didn't seem right. I punched double latte with milk and took the cup back to the lab. The cup's content proved to be some kind of ramen soup; but it tasted pretty good - too salty, perhaps, but probably better than the latte would have been.
“Not a word, Sarah,” I warned her as I entered the lab.
“Rugs,” she said. “Rugs … ok to talk rugs?” She pulled up next to me and opened a folder. “Look at these. Wouldn't they look great in a barn?” She was suddenly full of charm and it was working.
I had to admit any of the rugs she had selected would look great in Frank's bedroom. “What about Woodie? He's pissed?”
“Let's say you didn't help matters. But I can handle Woodie. And if he complains I'll smother him with my saggy boobs. Now, look at this Tabriz, Refo. You couldn't go wrong with this. The abstract floral is perfect for the country, don't you think?”
She was right. I ordered two five-by-eights from her cousin. I had to smile as I listened to her extract a commission. She didn't want cash, though; she accepted a small silk rug for her boudoir, as she called it. Spider's web would have been more accurate.
I spent the rest of the day trying to see if I could salvage something from my work. A supporting paper, amplifying the work of the Japanese was a possibility. It wouldn't make me famous, but people would know that my work was original if I could publish soon enough, not just a derivative spin-off from the Japanese paper.
I mapped out a couple of possible papers but still felt shitty. I left for the day a little sooner than I normally would have and wanted a shower and a drink before driving out to the barn. I could make it in time for a late dinner and bury my pain in the company of Frank and Merle. I chuckled to myself. And Merle? Had that goofy dog really wormed his way into my affections so quickly?
“Refo,” Stan hissed.
“Oh, Stan, right. You want to have a drink and we can talk?” He followed me upstairs and I poured a couple of single malts into the last clean glasses in the house. We sipped. He started his story slowly.
“Awesome photos, Refo.” Stan admired Carter and Lucien as depicted on my wall. “And Frank. I recognize him.”
“I thought you were straight, Stan.” Cut to the chase, I figured.
“Mmm, yeah. That wasn't working out so well. As in I was never getting laid. What's the point of being straight if all you do is jack off?” He sipped. “And here you were with hot boys running in and out all the time, getting way more sex in a week than I was in a year. The walls aren't very thick you know. And everybody up here was loving it. And I just got hornier and hornier every night, you know that feeling? No, I'd say you don't that feeling.” He chuckled again and sipped again. “This is good stuff.” He paused while deciding what to tell me. “So last night, when the guy with the Delaware plates was leaving, I stopped him and asked if he was driving to Delaware. We got a little chat going and well … he stayed over.”
“You had sex?”
“It was a lot easier than I thought it would be. Not too weird at all, really. And then, when it was over, I thought, what about precautions? We didn't use any.”
“Well, it's a fairly minimal risk if all you did was fuck him.” I waited for Stan's agreement that that was all they did. He didn't say anything. “So, uh, he fucked you?”
“We more or less did everything, Refo, except I don't think I'm into cocksucking at all.”
I nodded sympathetically. “It takes practice.”
“But what about disease?”
“Lesson one, Stan: You should have taken precautions. But Euie is new at this himself - plus he's a veterinarian. He's well aware of disease and risky behavior and stuff like that. I think you're safe with him; but still, if you're concerned, get tested. You'll have to wait a couple of weeks for the cheap test to be effective.”
“He's coming back this weekend. What should I do?”
“Stan, you dog, you ...” He actually blushed at my words and I'm pretty sure he's over fifty. “Talk to him about it. There's an RNA test that's effective after a week.” No need to bring up Euie's engagement, let Euie do that, I decided. We stood. Impulsively, Stan hugged me and then went downstairs. I felt good about the hug; simple human contact is amazingly restorative. It was the first time all day that I felt even a little bit good since reading the Japanese paper.
The drive to the barn went by quickly, probably because my mind was turning over a thousand things. Was Dr. Bloch pissed? We'll take that as given. How pissed? Was my tenure iron-tight? Since it involved the civil service, I had a feeling it wasn't. Government loopholes always have their own loopholes.
My phone buzzed a text message, but once I saw it wasn't from Frank I ignored it. I drove a little faster and listened to the hum of the Mazda. Was there a little ticking somewhere inside that hum? An expensive sounding ticking? Like a new transmission needed ticking? My ears played tag with the sound. Sometimes, I could count the ticks and sometimes I couldn't hear it at all. Maybe I could ask Butch about it.
Merle greeted me extravagantly, as if my mere presence had made his day. Dogs are nice to have around – good for the ego. Frank was even better. He picked me up off my feet and nearly squeezed the breath out of me.
“I have missed you all day, Reef. I just felt a vague absence, like I should have been near you. Did anything terrible happen?”
“Nope. Nothing,” I told him wondering how big a lie that would make. His smile in return told me it was no lie at all. Frank mattered more than any job trouble and Frank was here and Frank was fine. And thus there couldn't be any trouble. “You want an asparagus frittata?” I offered.
“Good. I was worried. Not sure why. Yes, to the frittata.” He hugged me again and kissed me. “Actually I was worried because of something Butch said. I guess he and Mike are having problems.”
“How can those two be having problems? With what?”
“Oh, you know, the usual things. Love, sex, and money.” Frank grinned at me.
I laughed but I had a feeling Frank was serious. “Well, they'll work it out, I guess. Love, sex, and money,” I mused. “That covers about everything … which reminds me. I got you a present today.”
“Really? What?”
“It's coming this weekend. You'll have to wait.”
I poured the eggs into the pan and relaxed while Frank came up behind me and kissed my neck. “You know I hate waiting.” He wrapped his arms around my waist and pushed his pelvis against me. I could feel every contour of his body.
“Frank, the eggs … Wait ...” But we didn't wait. About a half hour later Merle got the eggs for his dinner and I made a fresh batch for Frank. While we waited, I glanced at my phone. The text message I had ignored was still highlighted.
It was straightforward. “Interested in taking pix of pigs? Call M. Grimsby” A few simple English words, but I had no idea what it meant.
- - - Updated - - -
Chapter Forty-Seven
I was only semi-awake when Frank whispered he was taking Merle back to the country. The room was beautifully cool with the window open and quiet. The rest of the household must still be asleep, I decided. I had to wonder if Frank and I were the only people who actually had jobs. After a few more moments of luxury in bed, spent thinking about Frank, I got up and hurried into a hot shower.
Last night was the first time in … how long? How long had it been since we went a whole night without sex? The amazing part was I felt just as good. Proximity wasn't totally satisfying, of course, but just being there, wherever Frank was, meant a lot of contentment.
Tip-toeing my way to the kitchen, I surveyed the scene in the living room. Carter and Lucien were on the air mattress, sleeping peacefully with Lucien's arm very possessively draped over Carter. That was new. And on the sofa there was Jeremy with Euie behind jammed in behind him. What? Wait! Euie didn't have a fuzzy mop of hair. I looked more closely at the hidden body. An eye opened.
“Yo, Refo,” the voice called softly.
“Jawan??? When did you get here? Never mind, I don't have time ...” I gulped some orange juice, swished it around like mouthwash, and wondered where the hell Euie had gone. Maybe back to Delaware, or into the arms of Arcuri, or up the chimney in his Christmas underwear like Santa Claus. I left the glass in the sink and got my coat. I needed to get to the lab early to work on my paper.
“Refo,” Stan whispered urgently from his part of the house, as I was about to exit our common front door.
“Stan, don't worry. The dog is gone.”
He shook his head dismissing that problem. “How often do you get tested for AIDS?”
“What?” What kind of question was that? And then I saw a flash of “Everyday is Christmas” underwear in Stan's hallway.
“Hey, Reef!” Euie called out brightly.
“You fucked Euie? I thought you were straight!” I whispered.
“Not exactly. How often?” Stan hissed urgently.
“Not exactly about the fucking or about being straight?” He just glared at me. “Not very often. Every few months. I can do it myself at work. You need a test?”
Before Stan could answer Euie joined him at the door in the red underpants and a t-shirt. “What's so important at this hour, huh?”
“Just talking about the dog, Euie. I'll see you after work, Stan.” I turned and left.
I shouldn't have rushed to work. Not only was the Mazda making expensive-sounding noises again, but a fiendish Sarah Felsen was already there, lying in wait, ready to gloat.
“ 'S up, oh creature of the night?” I greeted her.
“If you're referring to Woodie, he's a little problem, well, not so little, if you know what I mean. But you, Refo. You have bigger problems – MUCH bigger.” She leered ominously. My only consolation was the knowledge that every day she was growing older and pretty soon those lush boobs would be down around her knees and on that day she would need a steel-belted brassiere to hold them up.
“Do they even make steel-belted brassieres?” I wondered aloud.
“Hah!” She retorted reading my mind and pushing out her chest. “Check out the latest Nature in PubMed.” It sounded like a challenge.
I called up the data base and scanned the table of contents of the prestigious journal. My heart sank. A Japanese lab had published ahead of me. I scanned the abstract and then read it carefully. Their paper was so much more elegant than mine, more comprehensive, with better data, answering questions I hadn't even thought of yet and indicating paths for further inquiry. And you can bet the Japanese were already far down those paths.
“So, Refo, saggy tits are a minor matter compared to no professional future, wouldn't you say? God! And I almost married you.” Her used her cackling laugh, sounding like the Witch Hazel on MDMA.
Wouldn't you think an aborted pregnancy would make a person more compassionate? In Sarah Felsen's case it was embittering. Cue Woodie to come in at that moment all cow-eyed and worshipful. He headed directly for Sarah Felsen. I might as well not have been there.
“I can't find Carter; but I'll tell him today, Sarah. I promise. It won't be so bad. I can see that now. We can make it work.”
I watched him leave. “What sordid compromise have you forced him into?”
“A series of interdependencies among four adults, all leading to universal harmony,” she cooed.
“All leading to you, you mean.”
“Same thing, Refo. Same thing ...” She breezed out of the lab humming some tuneless hellish anthem.
She left me a mess. The critical wound wasn't just that I had been beaten into print - it was much worse; and if Sarah Felsen could figure it out, everybody else would see it, too. The fact was that Japanese paper was immeasurable better than mine was or ever would be, no matter how many revisions I went through, no matter how much extra data I appended, no matter how visionary my conclusions might be. My paper represented competent research; theirs was an almost sublime contribution to science.
I went to see my boss. “Arnold ...” I began.
“Perhaps you should call me Dr. Bloch,” he said. “The new clinical director is interested in putting a little distance between senior staff and fellows.”
“I'm not a fellow. I'm tenured, Dr. Bloch.”
“Really? Are you sure, Reno? Or is it Rollo?”
“How about Dr. Fitzjohn? Would that establish the right distance?” I shouldn't have said it. I knew it before the words were even uttered. This was not going well at all.
“Yes, I see. Well, what is it you NEED, Doctor?” He emphasized that fact I needed something, not him.
“I wanted to let you know that a lab in Japan has beaten me to print.”
“Oh, that. Yes, I knew, Dr. Takeda called last week to tell me.”
“And you never told me?”
“You weren't here, Doctor. There was 'something more pressing' you told my secretary.”
“There was, actually ...”
“So, is there anything else?”
There wasn't and I left. His secretary gave me a pitying look and a little smile. “At least he didn't call you Rocco again,” she consoled.
Glum would be painting my mood wildly better than it was. As I approached the coffee machine, I caught the tail end of an annoying conversation.
“So I figure it'll be ok, you know, … now and then. Sex is sex, right? It's all good, right?” a very uncertain Woodie said to Carter.
“No it isn't all good,” I butted in. “Compromise sex is about as good as this coffee machine.”
“I'm getting tea,” Carter said giving me a warning glance. “The tea is pretty good.”
“So you're gonna let Lucien and Carter fuck you so you can fuck Sarah? Is that the deal?” I said to Woodie.
“Fuck me? Who said anything about fuckin' me? Sarah said I'd be fuckin' them! ” Woodie was astonished.
“Well, the first time, maybe ...” Carter temporized.
“Nobody's fuckin' ME!” Woodie was adamant.
“Woodie, it's not that big a deal,” Carter suggested.
“IT IS! It's a HUGE deal!” Woodie sputtered briefly. “I'm talking to Sarah!”
“Sorry,” I said to Carter.
“I told Sarah it was a risky negotiation,” Carter shrugged. “Now Lucien will jump the track and Sarah is SO demanding ...”
“Carter …” I began. “Never mind – another time.” I wanted to ask him about how things were really going with Lucien, but the time didn't seem right. I punched double latte with milk and took the cup back to the lab. The cup's content proved to be some kind of ramen soup; but it tasted pretty good - too salty, perhaps, but probably better than the latte would have been.
“Not a word, Sarah,” I warned her as I entered the lab.
“Rugs,” she said. “Rugs … ok to talk rugs?” She pulled up next to me and opened a folder. “Look at these. Wouldn't they look great in a barn?” She was suddenly full of charm and it was working.
I had to admit any of the rugs she had selected would look great in Frank's bedroom. “What about Woodie? He's pissed?”
“Let's say you didn't help matters. But I can handle Woodie. And if he complains I'll smother him with my saggy boobs. Now, look at this Tabriz, Refo. You couldn't go wrong with this. The abstract floral is perfect for the country, don't you think?”
She was right. I ordered two five-by-eights from her cousin. I had to smile as I listened to her extract a commission. She didn't want cash, though; she accepted a small silk rug for her boudoir, as she called it. Spider's web would have been more accurate.
I spent the rest of the day trying to see if I could salvage something from my work. A supporting paper, amplifying the work of the Japanese was a possibility. It wouldn't make me famous, but people would know that my work was original if I could publish soon enough, not just a derivative spin-off from the Japanese paper.
I mapped out a couple of possible papers but still felt shitty. I left for the day a little sooner than I normally would have and wanted a shower and a drink before driving out to the barn. I could make it in time for a late dinner and bury my pain in the company of Frank and Merle. I chuckled to myself. And Merle? Had that goofy dog really wormed his way into my affections so quickly?
“Refo,” Stan hissed.
“Oh, Stan, right. You want to have a drink and we can talk?” He followed me upstairs and I poured a couple of single malts into the last clean glasses in the house. We sipped. He started his story slowly.
“Awesome photos, Refo.” Stan admired Carter and Lucien as depicted on my wall. “And Frank. I recognize him.”
“I thought you were straight, Stan.” Cut to the chase, I figured.
“Mmm, yeah. That wasn't working out so well. As in I was never getting laid. What's the point of being straight if all you do is jack off?” He sipped. “And here you were with hot boys running in and out all the time, getting way more sex in a week than I was in a year. The walls aren't very thick you know. And everybody up here was loving it. And I just got hornier and hornier every night, you know that feeling? No, I'd say you don't that feeling.” He chuckled again and sipped again. “This is good stuff.” He paused while deciding what to tell me. “So last night, when the guy with the Delaware plates was leaving, I stopped him and asked if he was driving to Delaware. We got a little chat going and well … he stayed over.”
“You had sex?”
“It was a lot easier than I thought it would be. Not too weird at all, really. And then, when it was over, I thought, what about precautions? We didn't use any.”
“Well, it's a fairly minimal risk if all you did was fuck him.” I waited for Stan's agreement that that was all they did. He didn't say anything. “So, uh, he fucked you?”
“We more or less did everything, Refo, except I don't think I'm into cocksucking at all.”
I nodded sympathetically. “It takes practice.”
“But what about disease?”
“Lesson one, Stan: You should have taken precautions. But Euie is new at this himself - plus he's a veterinarian. He's well aware of disease and risky behavior and stuff like that. I think you're safe with him; but still, if you're concerned, get tested. You'll have to wait a couple of weeks for the cheap test to be effective.”
“He's coming back this weekend. What should I do?”
“Stan, you dog, you ...” He actually blushed at my words and I'm pretty sure he's over fifty. “Talk to him about it. There's an RNA test that's effective after a week.” No need to bring up Euie's engagement, let Euie do that, I decided. We stood. Impulsively, Stan hugged me and then went downstairs. I felt good about the hug; simple human contact is amazingly restorative. It was the first time all day that I felt even a little bit good since reading the Japanese paper.
The drive to the barn went by quickly, probably because my mind was turning over a thousand things. Was Dr. Bloch pissed? We'll take that as given. How pissed? Was my tenure iron-tight? Since it involved the civil service, I had a feeling it wasn't. Government loopholes always have their own loopholes.
My phone buzzed a text message, but once I saw it wasn't from Frank I ignored it. I drove a little faster and listened to the hum of the Mazda. Was there a little ticking somewhere inside that hum? An expensive sounding ticking? Like a new transmission needed ticking? My ears played tag with the sound. Sometimes, I could count the ticks and sometimes I couldn't hear it at all. Maybe I could ask Butch about it.
Merle greeted me extravagantly, as if my mere presence had made his day. Dogs are nice to have around – good for the ego. Frank was even better. He picked me up off my feet and nearly squeezed the breath out of me.
“I have missed you all day, Reef. I just felt a vague absence, like I should have been near you. Did anything terrible happen?”
“Nope. Nothing,” I told him wondering how big a lie that would make. His smile in return told me it was no lie at all. Frank mattered more than any job trouble and Frank was here and Frank was fine. And thus there couldn't be any trouble. “You want an asparagus frittata?” I offered.
“Good. I was worried. Not sure why. Yes, to the frittata.” He hugged me again and kissed me. “Actually I was worried because of something Butch said. I guess he and Mike are having problems.”
“How can those two be having problems? With what?”
“Oh, you know, the usual things. Love, sex, and money.” Frank grinned at me.
I laughed but I had a feeling Frank was serious. “Well, they'll work it out, I guess. Love, sex, and money,” I mused. “That covers about everything … which reminds me. I got you a present today.”
“Really? What?”
“It's coming this weekend. You'll have to wait.”
I poured the eggs into the pan and relaxed while Frank came up behind me and kissed my neck. “You know I hate waiting.” He wrapped his arms around my waist and pushed his pelvis against me. I could feel every contour of his body.
“Frank, the eggs … Wait ...” But we didn't wait. About a half hour later Merle got the eggs for his dinner and I made a fresh batch for Frank. While we waited, I glanced at my phone. The text message I had ignored was still highlighted.
It was straightforward. “Interested in taking pix of pigs? Call M. Grimsby” A few simple English words, but I had no idea what it meant.
Chickens to Pigs - his budding career as a professional photog for agribusiness, and a life in the country instead of the beltway?
The ever expanding circle of cum stain that surrounds Refo and company.
The ever expanding circle of cum stain that surrounds Refo and company.
EasyRory
JUB Addict
Chapter Forty-Eight
I woke at the crack of dawn, almost literally, as a sliver of light moved across the bed and onto my face. Frank was still asleep. I was positioned against the wall and tried my best not to wake him as I crawled over his body. As I straddled his body his eyes opened and he looked quickly around the room, seeing our shadows on the wall. He sat bolt upright.
“ T'is time, my friend, 'tis time ...” he declaimed and jumped out of bed. He grabbed a spare blanket to cover his nakedness.
“ 'Tis time?” I questioned.
“Pushkin,” was his answer as he left the room.
Pushkin? My hillbilly boyfriend knows Pushkin? I'm the one with the PhD and I barely know the name. The icy floor reminded me why I ordered the rugs. I used the bathroom and quickly dressed. I found Frank standing at his drawing board staring at a drawing of a barn. He had the blanket over his shoulders and was hopping from foot to foot. Then he grabbed a pen and began sketching rapidly. The blanket fell to the floor. The image of a frantic, naked artist brought to mind the worst aspects of French film.
He sketched rapidly on the front of the barn, overdrawing the hay loft doors with something oval. “We can replace the useless doors with a sun dial,” he said, as much to himself as to me. “Functional, decorative, and metaphorical … You inspired it, Refo, your shadow on the wall.”
I picked up the blanket and held it on his shoulders while he worked. “Can I get you something?”
“A pair of sox? The floor's cold.”
I added a sweat suit to the sox and returned with them to his office. By then he was checking his work while standing on a part of the blanket that wasn't wrapped around him. “Thanks,” he said hurrying into the warmer clothing. “The barn faces due south. It will be perfect for a sun dial; maybe it even had one at some point. There's no other reason for it to face that way. The lay of the land doesn't require it. Of course a sundial can be calibrated. It doesn't HAVE to face any precise direction. Southerly is good enough ... close enough.”
He had slipped his arm around my waist without looking at me. I knew he wasn't talking to me. He expressed his thinking aloud to include me. “Tell me about the Pushkin part.”
“Oh, that … Nuts, huh? 'Tis Time, My Friend' was a poem I liked. I had a Russian professor at Fairfax ...”
“You studied Russian?” Clearly, there was a lot I didn't know about Frank.
“No, the prof was Russian. He taught a basic 101 level world lit course. There were always stories about him, that he had been a spy and the CIA had turned him and that now he was living in witness protection in Strasburg. That kind of stuff. Anyway, he always ended every lecture with a short Pushkin poem. I liked the one about time and decided I would write a term paper on Pushkin. But the prof wouldn't let me. 'You have to read him in Russian,' he said. 'There aren't any good translations.' So, for about ten minutes, I considered taking Russian but then I decided to write about Edgar Allan Poe instead. Poe lived in Richmond when he was a kid.”
While he was explaining this, Frank had moved around to his favorite place, behind me, and was kissing my neck every few words. He stopped talking and we stood looking at different views of the barn in silence. I loved the intimacy of his closeness and the pressure of his body against me. “I want to fuck you,” he whispered and gave me a little squeeze. “But … 'tis time, my friend, 'tis time to go to work.”
As I drove into the city I went over my time with Frank. I could not think of a previous occasion when the pressures of reality had intruded into our sex life. He had never said no to me when I wanted sex and I never said no either. I couldn't even recall any postponement of pleasure by either of us. Our morning version of coitus interruptus, was the first time we had failed to let our desires run things. Frank had postponed it so beautifully, with his little poetry lesson and his kisses. I knew I'd spend the day anticipating the night.
“You look terrible,” Sarah Felsen said. “Hung over? I once knew a girl who called her hangovers 'the flu'. No one believed her, of course, but she felt it sounded better.”
And you look wonderful, yourself.” I hoped there was a hint of irony in my voice, but there wasn't. I was still glowing from being with Frank. Actually, Sarah did look a little haggard, but I didn't press it. I didn't need to. That day all I had to do was watch.
“Where's Woodie?” Carter demanded from the doorway without preliminaries.
“I think he and Lucien ...” Sarah whispered back.
“AND LUCIEN!” Carter shouted and left. I looked at Sarah for an explanation but she said nothing. She actually blushed and fumbled with things on her desk.
Within five minutes Carter returned. “It's YOUR fault.” He left again.
“Woodie has become something of a problem,” Sarah felt the need to tell me.
“Looks like I have my own problem.” There was a phone message politely asking me to see Dr. Bloch. I walked to my doom, while reviewing the facts of my research.
The reasearch had proceeded with Bloch's approval. It had gone well and reasonably fast. Yes, somebody with more dedication could have hustled it along faster; but I was way faster than a European lab would have been. A genius might have seen some of the wider issues the Japanese discussed; but genii are in short supply; and it was a cinch Bloch was no genius. He might have been a little more understanding.
That's where my thinking stood while I waited for the elevator. Lucien joined me. I nodded.
“Have you seen Woodie?” he asked with a dreamy look on his face.
“Popular lad, this day, is our Woodie,” I answered shaking my head no.
“What do you mean?”
“Carter and Sarah are looking for him, too.”
“Oh, no ...” The color drained from Lucien's face. He walked quickly away toward the stairs.
I rode the two floor up to Dr. Bloch's office and resumed my inner dialog. He should have been a lot more understanding. Bloch himself was no Nobelist in waiting. There were stories about botched research, an inappropriate and heatedly-denied relationship, even a hint of skullduggery in the circumstances of the death of Bloch's predecessor. Everybody joked that somewhere in his secretary's closet was a stained blue dress. It's not like Bloch was a paragon among scientific researchers. By the time I got to his office, I had worked up a head of steam.
“The news is not all bad,” he said, cooling my jets. “The Japanese appear to have a problem defending some of their research. Kohlmeier at the Karlsruhe Institute has accused them of fabrication. Do you know Jan-Dieter? Charming fellow. Handsome, too. Up your alley, eh? So, Reno, it would seem we have a slim chance to pull a rabbit out what's left of your hat, so to speak. Expedite your review and we'll try submitting your work 'in further explanation' of the Japanese fiasco.” A phone call absorbed his attention and I was dismissed with a casual wave.
My initial relief had worn off before I got to the elevator. Expediting my review was easier said than done. It would mean long hours of tedious work. Driving to Frank's would be impossible. The best temporization I could come up with was a determination to plot out the effort needed and lay out a timeline.
Back at my lab, Carter was pouting, Sarah was icily standoffish, and Lucien was relaxed and expansive, smiling to me as I came in.
“It's not my fault.” Lucien was broadly grinning.
“So you say,” Carter sneered.
“Sarah put him up to it,” Lucien said with a chuckle.
“But Sarah never figured he'd like it,” Sarah said self-referentially.
“I don't get complaints,” Lucien boasted and then stared at Carter. I pointed at a machine Lucien had been unable to repair. “Not about sex, Refo.”
“I'll complain then. How about a lack of sex?” There were glints of fire in Sarah's small dark eyes.
“It was exhausting pinning Woodie down, by the time that was over …” Lucien shrugged.
“Are we talking rape here?” I asked.
“Of course not. He loved it. Well, not at first, he needed a little persuasion at first, but later I swear he loved it.” Lucien was back to smiling.
“A little persuasion? It took all three of us to hold him down,” Sarah admitted.
“Don't want to know, don't want to know, DON'T WANT TO KNOW!” I said with rising volume. “I NEED TO WORK !” That shut the three of them up. “Take it to the cafeteria,” I said more quietly. I was amazed by my success; they left immediately, apparently for the cafeteria.
I pulled out graph paper and pens. I decided to avoid the Japanese errors I would need to recheck all my data and sources. Two weeks. Maybe replicate some test procedures. Another week, if it went well. Of course if it didn't … In twenty minutes time I produced a branching flow chart that at best ran six weeks to get my paper ready, and at worst it was nearly open ended – call it twenty weeks. I taped the sheets together and pinned then to a cork board in front of me. Daunting was the word for it.
“Refo?” came a timid voice. “Have you seen Sarah or Carter?”
“Woodie … haven't you been the busy little man?” More drama. I didn't need it.
“How much do you know?” he asked.
“Enough,” I answered.
“The part where they double fucked me?”
“That would be news - if I wanted to hear it ...”
“Yeah. Right. Sorry.” He paused. “What about Lucien? Have you seen him today?”
“I believe they're all in the cafeteria. Leave me out of whatever is going on, ok?”
“Sure, Refo,” he said, so changed from the arrogant kid I had met what seemed like forever ago in San Francisco. What had the threesome done to the poor kid? Some of it was obvious, but what permanent damage might they have done to him. He was only ...how old? I tried to remember and gave up. Not my problem, I told myself.
I texted Frank 'Gonna B L8' and pulled out all my data files. Around six-thirty I decided my productive hours were over. I went to my house to check on it. I was probably going to be using it a lot in the coming weeks. The place looked neglected to me, but not as bad as I had expected. The only surprise was Euie, sitting and drinking a glass of something dark.
“Euie.”
“Refo,” he acknowledged. “Care for a Chilean red? Arcuri says Chilean cabs are good sipping wines. I washed the glasses.”
“And how goes the engagement?” I asked. “Did you tell Stan?”
“It's off. So there's no need to tell Stan. Arcuri likes falling in love, he doesn't like being in love.”
“I'm sorry ...”
“Plus I caught him getting fucked by two bikers.”
“Ouch ...”
So I bought some wine, came here, and … started sipping.”
“Did you invite Stan?”
“I couldn't, Refo. I feel so ...”
I walked to the door, opened it and stamped a couple of times on the floor. “Stan, come on up for a drink.”
“No, Refo … I couldn't.” He started to get up, but displayed the effects of sipping for quite while. Stan, meanwhile, responded promptly.
I left them sipping together and drove out to the barn. “Frankie, bad news,” I said. That's a terrible opening to a conversation. I delayed while I got myself a drink considerably more powerful than a Chilean cab. I told Frank about my timeline.
“Reef, I lived at your house for a year, I can do it again for six weeks or twenty weeks or another year – as long as you're there. It's going to be winter here anyway. Not a bad time to be in the city.”
“This is home, Frank. That place in the city is just a house. This is where I want to live with you.”
“We'll be back. We have to see the apple trees blossom in the spring.” He hugged me. “You know, Pushkin wrote a fable about apple trees.”
A thumping distracted me. "What do we do about Merle?"
I woke at the crack of dawn, almost literally, as a sliver of light moved across the bed and onto my face. Frank was still asleep. I was positioned against the wall and tried my best not to wake him as I crawled over his body. As I straddled his body his eyes opened and he looked quickly around the room, seeing our shadows on the wall. He sat bolt upright.
“ T'is time, my friend, 'tis time ...” he declaimed and jumped out of bed. He grabbed a spare blanket to cover his nakedness.
“ 'Tis time?” I questioned.
“Pushkin,” was his answer as he left the room.
Pushkin? My hillbilly boyfriend knows Pushkin? I'm the one with the PhD and I barely know the name. The icy floor reminded me why I ordered the rugs. I used the bathroom and quickly dressed. I found Frank standing at his drawing board staring at a drawing of a barn. He had the blanket over his shoulders and was hopping from foot to foot. Then he grabbed a pen and began sketching rapidly. The blanket fell to the floor. The image of a frantic, naked artist brought to mind the worst aspects of French film.
He sketched rapidly on the front of the barn, overdrawing the hay loft doors with something oval. “We can replace the useless doors with a sun dial,” he said, as much to himself as to me. “Functional, decorative, and metaphorical … You inspired it, Refo, your shadow on the wall.”
I picked up the blanket and held it on his shoulders while he worked. “Can I get you something?”
“A pair of sox? The floor's cold.”
I added a sweat suit to the sox and returned with them to his office. By then he was checking his work while standing on a part of the blanket that wasn't wrapped around him. “Thanks,” he said hurrying into the warmer clothing. “The barn faces due south. It will be perfect for a sun dial; maybe it even had one at some point. There's no other reason for it to face that way. The lay of the land doesn't require it. Of course a sundial can be calibrated. It doesn't HAVE to face any precise direction. Southerly is good enough ... close enough.”
He had slipped his arm around my waist without looking at me. I knew he wasn't talking to me. He expressed his thinking aloud to include me. “Tell me about the Pushkin part.”
“Oh, that … Nuts, huh? 'Tis Time, My Friend' was a poem I liked. I had a Russian professor at Fairfax ...”
“You studied Russian?” Clearly, there was a lot I didn't know about Frank.
“No, the prof was Russian. He taught a basic 101 level world lit course. There were always stories about him, that he had been a spy and the CIA had turned him and that now he was living in witness protection in Strasburg. That kind of stuff. Anyway, he always ended every lecture with a short Pushkin poem. I liked the one about time and decided I would write a term paper on Pushkin. But the prof wouldn't let me. 'You have to read him in Russian,' he said. 'There aren't any good translations.' So, for about ten minutes, I considered taking Russian but then I decided to write about Edgar Allan Poe instead. Poe lived in Richmond when he was a kid.”
While he was explaining this, Frank had moved around to his favorite place, behind me, and was kissing my neck every few words. He stopped talking and we stood looking at different views of the barn in silence. I loved the intimacy of his closeness and the pressure of his body against me. “I want to fuck you,” he whispered and gave me a little squeeze. “But … 'tis time, my friend, 'tis time to go to work.”
As I drove into the city I went over my time with Frank. I could not think of a previous occasion when the pressures of reality had intruded into our sex life. He had never said no to me when I wanted sex and I never said no either. I couldn't even recall any postponement of pleasure by either of us. Our morning version of coitus interruptus, was the first time we had failed to let our desires run things. Frank had postponed it so beautifully, with his little poetry lesson and his kisses. I knew I'd spend the day anticipating the night.
“You look terrible,” Sarah Felsen said. “Hung over? I once knew a girl who called her hangovers 'the flu'. No one believed her, of course, but she felt it sounded better.”
And you look wonderful, yourself.” I hoped there was a hint of irony in my voice, but there wasn't. I was still glowing from being with Frank. Actually, Sarah did look a little haggard, but I didn't press it. I didn't need to. That day all I had to do was watch.
“Where's Woodie?” Carter demanded from the doorway without preliminaries.
“I think he and Lucien ...” Sarah whispered back.
“AND LUCIEN!” Carter shouted and left. I looked at Sarah for an explanation but she said nothing. She actually blushed and fumbled with things on her desk.
Within five minutes Carter returned. “It's YOUR fault.” He left again.
“Woodie has become something of a problem,” Sarah felt the need to tell me.
“Looks like I have my own problem.” There was a phone message politely asking me to see Dr. Bloch. I walked to my doom, while reviewing the facts of my research.
The reasearch had proceeded with Bloch's approval. It had gone well and reasonably fast. Yes, somebody with more dedication could have hustled it along faster; but I was way faster than a European lab would have been. A genius might have seen some of the wider issues the Japanese discussed; but genii are in short supply; and it was a cinch Bloch was no genius. He might have been a little more understanding.
That's where my thinking stood while I waited for the elevator. Lucien joined me. I nodded.
“Have you seen Woodie?” he asked with a dreamy look on his face.
“Popular lad, this day, is our Woodie,” I answered shaking my head no.
“What do you mean?”
“Carter and Sarah are looking for him, too.”
“Oh, no ...” The color drained from Lucien's face. He walked quickly away toward the stairs.
I rode the two floor up to Dr. Bloch's office and resumed my inner dialog. He should have been a lot more understanding. Bloch himself was no Nobelist in waiting. There were stories about botched research, an inappropriate and heatedly-denied relationship, even a hint of skullduggery in the circumstances of the death of Bloch's predecessor. Everybody joked that somewhere in his secretary's closet was a stained blue dress. It's not like Bloch was a paragon among scientific researchers. By the time I got to his office, I had worked up a head of steam.
“The news is not all bad,” he said, cooling my jets. “The Japanese appear to have a problem defending some of their research. Kohlmeier at the Karlsruhe Institute has accused them of fabrication. Do you know Jan-Dieter? Charming fellow. Handsome, too. Up your alley, eh? So, Reno, it would seem we have a slim chance to pull a rabbit out what's left of your hat, so to speak. Expedite your review and we'll try submitting your work 'in further explanation' of the Japanese fiasco.” A phone call absorbed his attention and I was dismissed with a casual wave.
My initial relief had worn off before I got to the elevator. Expediting my review was easier said than done. It would mean long hours of tedious work. Driving to Frank's would be impossible. The best temporization I could come up with was a determination to plot out the effort needed and lay out a timeline.
Back at my lab, Carter was pouting, Sarah was icily standoffish, and Lucien was relaxed and expansive, smiling to me as I came in.
“It's not my fault.” Lucien was broadly grinning.
“So you say,” Carter sneered.
“Sarah put him up to it,” Lucien said with a chuckle.
“But Sarah never figured he'd like it,” Sarah said self-referentially.
“I don't get complaints,” Lucien boasted and then stared at Carter. I pointed at a machine Lucien had been unable to repair. “Not about sex, Refo.”
“I'll complain then. How about a lack of sex?” There were glints of fire in Sarah's small dark eyes.
“It was exhausting pinning Woodie down, by the time that was over …” Lucien shrugged.
“Are we talking rape here?” I asked.
“Of course not. He loved it. Well, not at first, he needed a little persuasion at first, but later I swear he loved it.” Lucien was back to smiling.
“A little persuasion? It took all three of us to hold him down,” Sarah admitted.
“Don't want to know, don't want to know, DON'T WANT TO KNOW!” I said with rising volume. “I NEED TO WORK !” That shut the three of them up. “Take it to the cafeteria,” I said more quietly. I was amazed by my success; they left immediately, apparently for the cafeteria.
I pulled out graph paper and pens. I decided to avoid the Japanese errors I would need to recheck all my data and sources. Two weeks. Maybe replicate some test procedures. Another week, if it went well. Of course if it didn't … In twenty minutes time I produced a branching flow chart that at best ran six weeks to get my paper ready, and at worst it was nearly open ended – call it twenty weeks. I taped the sheets together and pinned then to a cork board in front of me. Daunting was the word for it.
“Refo?” came a timid voice. “Have you seen Sarah or Carter?”
“Woodie … haven't you been the busy little man?” More drama. I didn't need it.
“How much do you know?” he asked.
“Enough,” I answered.
“The part where they double fucked me?”
“That would be news - if I wanted to hear it ...”
“Yeah. Right. Sorry.” He paused. “What about Lucien? Have you seen him today?”
“I believe they're all in the cafeteria. Leave me out of whatever is going on, ok?”
“Sure, Refo,” he said, so changed from the arrogant kid I had met what seemed like forever ago in San Francisco. What had the threesome done to the poor kid? Some of it was obvious, but what permanent damage might they have done to him. He was only ...how old? I tried to remember and gave up. Not my problem, I told myself.
I texted Frank 'Gonna B L8' and pulled out all my data files. Around six-thirty I decided my productive hours were over. I went to my house to check on it. I was probably going to be using it a lot in the coming weeks. The place looked neglected to me, but not as bad as I had expected. The only surprise was Euie, sitting and drinking a glass of something dark.
“Euie.”
“Refo,” he acknowledged. “Care for a Chilean red? Arcuri says Chilean cabs are good sipping wines. I washed the glasses.”
“And how goes the engagement?” I asked. “Did you tell Stan?”
“It's off. So there's no need to tell Stan. Arcuri likes falling in love, he doesn't like being in love.”
“I'm sorry ...”
“Plus I caught him getting fucked by two bikers.”
“Ouch ...”
So I bought some wine, came here, and … started sipping.”
“Did you invite Stan?”
“I couldn't, Refo. I feel so ...”
I walked to the door, opened it and stamped a couple of times on the floor. “Stan, come on up for a drink.”
“No, Refo … I couldn't.” He started to get up, but displayed the effects of sipping for quite while. Stan, meanwhile, responded promptly.
I left them sipping together and drove out to the barn. “Frankie, bad news,” I said. That's a terrible opening to a conversation. I delayed while I got myself a drink considerably more powerful than a Chilean cab. I told Frank about my timeline.
“Reef, I lived at your house for a year, I can do it again for six weeks or twenty weeks or another year – as long as you're there. It's going to be winter here anyway. Not a bad time to be in the city.”
“This is home, Frank. That place in the city is just a house. This is where I want to live with you.”
“We'll be back. We have to see the apple trees blossom in the spring.” He hugged me. “You know, Pushkin wrote a fable about apple trees.”
A thumping distracted me. "What do we do about Merle?"
Rory,
Some more juggling of pieces up in the air. or in Woodies Ass.
And then there's poor Merle - who DID come to mind as our boys were having their domicile discussion.
Some more juggling of pieces up in the air. or in Woodies Ass.
And then there's poor Merle - who DID come to mind as our boys were having their domicile discussion.
EasyRory
JUB Addict
Don't know if I mentioned this before, but I have been thinking about Mike and Butch in this story being the main characters in my next. After consideration, I don't think I can make it work without violating one of JUB's rules about underage sexual activity.
Given Butch's age (19-20 in this story), it would be impossible to give him any history without talking about his under-18 life. The under-18 stuff wouldn't be featured and wouldn't have to be explicit, but I think it would have to be there or it wouldn't make a very interesting story.
So I've given up on that approach.
Given Butch's age (19-20 in this story), it would be impossible to give him any history without talking about his under-18 life. The under-18 stuff wouldn't be featured and wouldn't have to be explicit, but I think it would have to be there or it wouldn't make a very interesting story.
So I've given up on that approach.
We have great confidence in your abilities to craft a tail to engage and arouse.
EasyRory
JUB Addict
I dunno ... some of them are much more popular than others.
So, the readers just haven't found the full treasure trove - have I?!
EasyRory
JUB Addict
Chapter Forty-Nine
During a spare minute at work while waiting on the glacially slow printer, I took a deep breath and made the call.
“There is no Mister Grigsby,” a voice said. “Do you mean Marvellen?” Maybe I did.
“This is Marva Grigsby,” the next voice answered. She made it sound like Marvin.
“Miss Grigsby, this is Refo FitzJohn. You texted me about pigs?”
“Right. Thanks for callin' back. I'm puttin' you on a speaker because I like to walk while I talk. You like bacon?”
“Yes ...”
“That's a start! The trick is to make it sexy or at least cute … you know, fun. Guys want fun food, right? Your average guy wouldn't know a triglyceride from trichinosis, so we go for fun. How hard is that, right? Think you could do that?”
“I'm a pretty basic cook, Marva. You mean bacon-stuffed moon pies or something?”
“Linda Krol said you were smart.” She sounded very disappointed. “Bacon moon pies … whoa!” The sound of someone gagging came through the line.
“Are you alright?”
“That wasn't me. I can stomach anything. My partner Lex has a delicate stomach. Note: I didn't say small; I said delicate.”
She laughed uproariously, a real knee-slapper; and I heard a muttered “Fuck you” in the background. “That's just cruel, Marvin,” the voice continued. The voice said Marvin. Definitely Marvin.
“Ha HA. WOO! Yes. Hah!” Marvin coughed a couple times and continued. “Don't mind her; she's pregnant.”
So Marva or Marvin, take your pick, gave me directions to Pigs in Blankets Farms and we agreed on a Saturday afternoon meeting. Her place was closer to Richmond, so I said two PM. No sense making the day too taxing for the Mazda. I know there's no technical evidence for this, but I firmly believed the Mazda prefers a slow morning on Saturdays.
I collected a couple dozen sheets from the printer tray and looked at the tenth revision of my paper. I dreaded the prospect of reading it again. I gritted my teeth and went for a coffee. My coffee consumption was way down since the push to publish had begun.
A very genial Lucien, smiling broadly even, grabbed me and said, “On the third floor there is a secret coffee machine. It works perfectly. Come with me.”
“Lucien, if we're going down to three, we might as well go to the cafeteria and get real coffee.”
“Vertraut mir,” he said with a significant glance in the way Americans would say “Trust me.” I tried some idle chatter as we walked to the machine but his concentration was on something else. He pointed at the machine and then opened the closest office door. “Is the machine in good operating order today,” he asked the unseen office occupant and then turned back to me. “Now watch.”
On the far side of the coffee machine was a window in the wall opening onto a supply storage room. Inside were the usual unremarkable stacked shelves of various lab and office materials.
“What? So?” I fumbled with coins for the machine.
“Watch,” he insisted. A few seconds later a young man dressed in OR greens entered and began perusing the shelves. “Look at that!” Lucien hissed. The young man reached for a box on a high shelf and his smock rode up exposing skin and showing off his ass beautifully. His pants were thin cotton and draped clingingly over the swell of his ass. Obviously he wasn't wearing any underwear. He turned and teased us with a view of his gaping fly. Apparently he shaved his pubic hair. Lucien groaned at the sight.
“He knows we're watching,” I whispered.
“Of course he does.” Lucien took a deep breath. “I have to fuck him.” He reentered the office and I heard him call out, “Anyone here?” The young man, with a grin but without ever looking at me lowered some blinds and ended my view.
I returned to the lab and sipped my coffee. It was pretty good. The machine had worked as perfectly as Lucien had predicted. Sarah Felsen coughed. That meant she wanted to talk.
“Have you talked to your cousin? Are the rugs still on track for Saturday, Sarah?”
“Yes … That's what I wanted to talk to you about. Was your heart set on green? I mean, green can be a hard color to live with.”
“Hence mankind's universal fondness for trees and grass.”
“Refo!” she said in her let's-get-serious voice. “Beige and gold tones are so much more elegant, especially in a barn. They set off the textures of the wood, the darker colors. Green can be so … assertive.”
“And you would know about assertive.”
Once she detected my lack of argument she proceeded happily. “My cousin David said he'd give you an extra seven percent off for the color change.”
“Maybe I should get three.”
“Really?” Her excitement meant she must have wrung some huge compensation out of David. “I think he said he might have another.” She let that lie for a minute. “Although, it's slightly bigger, I believe. It would cost more.”
We dickered and she quoted ever changing prices, prices with this, without that. I settled on three of the smaller rugs and one big one. She gave me quite a good deal, I think, assuming the rugs were of a decent quality. It totaled way more than I had planned to spend, but the Krol payments were just sitting in my bank account. Might as well spend some of it.
“So, Sarah ...” She immediately became wary. “You and Lucien … and Carter?” She nodded. “And Woodie?” She nodded less enthusiastically. That's going how?”
“I don't know. I think maybe I'm overcompensating.” Her matter-of-factness surprised me.
“Overcompensating for what?”
“Oh … Neediness. Disappointment. Boredom, maybe.”
“Want to be really bored? So bored it will put fun back into your nights?” Strike while the iron is at least plugged in is my motto. “Would you read my paper?” Amazingly, she agreed; the rug deal must have been huge for her.
I got home at a fairly decent hour and found Frank and Merle playing on the floor. “Reef, watch this!” Frank balanced a dog biscuit on Merle's nose and said, “Wait ...wait.” Poor Merle looked even goofier than usual as he stared at the biscuit cross-eyed. “Ok! Ok!” Merle tossed the biscuit in the air and snatched it back with snap of his jaws followed by a lot of crunching.
“Nice. Did you talk to Stan about Merle?”
“Stan … um … Stan isn't so worried about dogs right now. Euie took him for a makeover. Now Stan is afraid to go out on the street. We're invited for a drink, if you want to go.”
We went. Stan opened the door for us and I said nothing about the frizzed hair. “Stan your face looks blotchy. What happened?”
“He's been scrubbing it with carborundum for a couple of hours, trying to get a little hint of makeup off,” Euie said to us. “Want a drink?” Euie offered and then he disappeared to make them.
“The hair, I think, is actually a good look.” Stan's usual dull brown with strands of gray was now a bright and curly auburn.
“I look like Bozo the Clown,” Stan groused. “I'll have another, Euie, if your pouring.” He called the drink order loudly to the kitchen. “You should see what he did to my pubes!” he whispered.
“Euie?” Frank asked.
“No, that fruitcake Arcuri! Euie doesn't even know. You could have warned me about this stuff, Refo.”
I shrugged. “I'm a virgin in the pube perming department, Stan.”
“Just what did he do to ….?” Frank's question was interrupted by Euie's drink delivery.
“Sazeracs,” Euie announced with pride.
“They're good,” Stan said. “I've had a few, in case you can't tell.”
“Stan, about the dog ...” I began. A whiskey-soaked Stan might be a dog-loving Stan.
“Fuck the dog!” Stan raised his glass. “Not literally, of course. Although nothing is a surprise any more.” He glanced rather fondly at Euie.
“He'll only be here sometimes - when I have to stay all week.”
“Heart-shaped pubic hair, that's what's weird. Dogs are perfectly normal.” Stan took a generous pull on his drink.
“I told him not to. I told him you wouldn't like it.” Euie tried to gauge the depth of Stan's feelings.
“The thing was … This is so fucking weird to talk about, guys.” Stan paused and then figured what the hell. “I got a stiffie while he was, uh, working on me.”
“I knew I should have stayed in the room,” Euie lamented.
“ 'S ok, Euie. You were picking out underwear.”
“Stanley, he didn't … Did he?”
“I didn't cum if that's what you mean.” Stan smiled and held up his glass. “Got another in that pitcher, Eustace?” Euie went to the kitchen.
“Who ever thought that at my age I be … learning new tricks?” Stan was now chuckling freely. “I almost came,” he whispered with a louche confidentiality. “That guy has a very talented mouth. He said he has a thing for older guys.”
“I have a thing for older guys, too,” Euie said, returning with a close to full pitcher. Just how much of Stan's confession he had heard was uncertain. “I should like older guys, being one myself.” He refreshed the four drinks.
“Uh, Refo … Frank … Can I ask: do you guys ever do it to each other? In the same night, I mean.” Stan asked looking at Frank and me. I felt my face redden.
“Stan! You can't ask things like that!” Euie was appalled.
“Look at Refo blush,” Frank almost giggled. “So I'll answer. Not all that often. We like to specialize. One thing one night; something else on another. Mostly. There are exceptions.”
“And fidelity,” Stan continued. “What about fidelity?”
“All righty-roo,” Euie almost screamed. “Enough truth or dare.”
“I haven't dared 'em to do anything,” Stan complained.
“No, you haven't; but I think we better walk the dog before your tolerance gets challenged.”
Merle was happy to go for a walk. He's always happy; it's in his genes. Half a block along the dark side street Frank gave me a kiss on the cheek. “You know, Stan had a good question. We've never talked about it. What about fidelity, Reef?”
I didn't know what to say. I was absolutely stunned by the question. “I love you, Frank. I'm not even tempted by anybody else.” I told him about Lucien and the young man at work. “A year ago, I'd have been in on that. Today … nothing.”
“Nothing? Not even a little chub?”
“Little chubs don't count, Frank.”
“Well, we agree on that much. That's a start. One step at a time.” Frank squeezed my hand. His words were soothing and very sexy. We walked in silence for a block watching Merle explore every walkway. Getting back home again with Frank and Merle felt perfect .
Soothing was the word for it. And sensuous, there was another accurate descriptor. And slow. And loving. We took our turns fucking each other. When I was on all fours feeling Frank in me and on me, I suddenly exploded, shooting with little warning. Immediately I heard Frank groan and felt him drive deeper into me. With barely an increase in tempo I felt his cock swell and come in me.
I felt totally relaxed. Work pressures were continents away. A man who loved me was intimately close. Who needs a little chub when bliss like this was all around?
During a spare minute at work while waiting on the glacially slow printer, I took a deep breath and made the call.
“There is no Mister Grigsby,” a voice said. “Do you mean Marvellen?” Maybe I did.
“This is Marva Grigsby,” the next voice answered. She made it sound like Marvin.
“Miss Grigsby, this is Refo FitzJohn. You texted me about pigs?”
“Right. Thanks for callin' back. I'm puttin' you on a speaker because I like to walk while I talk. You like bacon?”
“Yes ...”
“That's a start! The trick is to make it sexy or at least cute … you know, fun. Guys want fun food, right? Your average guy wouldn't know a triglyceride from trichinosis, so we go for fun. How hard is that, right? Think you could do that?”
“I'm a pretty basic cook, Marva. You mean bacon-stuffed moon pies or something?”
“Linda Krol said you were smart.” She sounded very disappointed. “Bacon moon pies … whoa!” The sound of someone gagging came through the line.
“Are you alright?”
“That wasn't me. I can stomach anything. My partner Lex has a delicate stomach. Note: I didn't say small; I said delicate.”
She laughed uproariously, a real knee-slapper; and I heard a muttered “Fuck you” in the background. “That's just cruel, Marvin,” the voice continued. The voice said Marvin. Definitely Marvin.
“Ha HA. WOO! Yes. Hah!” Marvin coughed a couple times and continued. “Don't mind her; she's pregnant.”
So Marva or Marvin, take your pick, gave me directions to Pigs in Blankets Farms and we agreed on a Saturday afternoon meeting. Her place was closer to Richmond, so I said two PM. No sense making the day too taxing for the Mazda. I know there's no technical evidence for this, but I firmly believed the Mazda prefers a slow morning on Saturdays.
I collected a couple dozen sheets from the printer tray and looked at the tenth revision of my paper. I dreaded the prospect of reading it again. I gritted my teeth and went for a coffee. My coffee consumption was way down since the push to publish had begun.
A very genial Lucien, smiling broadly even, grabbed me and said, “On the third floor there is a secret coffee machine. It works perfectly. Come with me.”
“Lucien, if we're going down to three, we might as well go to the cafeteria and get real coffee.”
“Vertraut mir,” he said with a significant glance in the way Americans would say “Trust me.” I tried some idle chatter as we walked to the machine but his concentration was on something else. He pointed at the machine and then opened the closest office door. “Is the machine in good operating order today,” he asked the unseen office occupant and then turned back to me. “Now watch.”
On the far side of the coffee machine was a window in the wall opening onto a supply storage room. Inside were the usual unremarkable stacked shelves of various lab and office materials.
“What? So?” I fumbled with coins for the machine.
“Watch,” he insisted. A few seconds later a young man dressed in OR greens entered and began perusing the shelves. “Look at that!” Lucien hissed. The young man reached for a box on a high shelf and his smock rode up exposing skin and showing off his ass beautifully. His pants were thin cotton and draped clingingly over the swell of his ass. Obviously he wasn't wearing any underwear. He turned and teased us with a view of his gaping fly. Apparently he shaved his pubic hair. Lucien groaned at the sight.
“He knows we're watching,” I whispered.
“Of course he does.” Lucien took a deep breath. “I have to fuck him.” He reentered the office and I heard him call out, “Anyone here?” The young man, with a grin but without ever looking at me lowered some blinds and ended my view.
I returned to the lab and sipped my coffee. It was pretty good. The machine had worked as perfectly as Lucien had predicted. Sarah Felsen coughed. That meant she wanted to talk.
“Have you talked to your cousin? Are the rugs still on track for Saturday, Sarah?”
“Yes … That's what I wanted to talk to you about. Was your heart set on green? I mean, green can be a hard color to live with.”
“Hence mankind's universal fondness for trees and grass.”
“Refo!” she said in her let's-get-serious voice. “Beige and gold tones are so much more elegant, especially in a barn. They set off the textures of the wood, the darker colors. Green can be so … assertive.”
“And you would know about assertive.”
Once she detected my lack of argument she proceeded happily. “My cousin David said he'd give you an extra seven percent off for the color change.”
“Maybe I should get three.”
“Really?” Her excitement meant she must have wrung some huge compensation out of David. “I think he said he might have another.” She let that lie for a minute. “Although, it's slightly bigger, I believe. It would cost more.”
We dickered and she quoted ever changing prices, prices with this, without that. I settled on three of the smaller rugs and one big one. She gave me quite a good deal, I think, assuming the rugs were of a decent quality. It totaled way more than I had planned to spend, but the Krol payments were just sitting in my bank account. Might as well spend some of it.
“So, Sarah ...” She immediately became wary. “You and Lucien … and Carter?” She nodded. “And Woodie?” She nodded less enthusiastically. That's going how?”
“I don't know. I think maybe I'm overcompensating.” Her matter-of-factness surprised me.
“Overcompensating for what?”
“Oh … Neediness. Disappointment. Boredom, maybe.”
“Want to be really bored? So bored it will put fun back into your nights?” Strike while the iron is at least plugged in is my motto. “Would you read my paper?” Amazingly, she agreed; the rug deal must have been huge for her.
I got home at a fairly decent hour and found Frank and Merle playing on the floor. “Reef, watch this!” Frank balanced a dog biscuit on Merle's nose and said, “Wait ...wait.” Poor Merle looked even goofier than usual as he stared at the biscuit cross-eyed. “Ok! Ok!” Merle tossed the biscuit in the air and snatched it back with snap of his jaws followed by a lot of crunching.
“Nice. Did you talk to Stan about Merle?”
“Stan … um … Stan isn't so worried about dogs right now. Euie took him for a makeover. Now Stan is afraid to go out on the street. We're invited for a drink, if you want to go.”
We went. Stan opened the door for us and I said nothing about the frizzed hair. “Stan your face looks blotchy. What happened?”
“He's been scrubbing it with carborundum for a couple of hours, trying to get a little hint of makeup off,” Euie said to us. “Want a drink?” Euie offered and then he disappeared to make them.
“The hair, I think, is actually a good look.” Stan's usual dull brown with strands of gray was now a bright and curly auburn.
“I look like Bozo the Clown,” Stan groused. “I'll have another, Euie, if your pouring.” He called the drink order loudly to the kitchen. “You should see what he did to my pubes!” he whispered.
“Euie?” Frank asked.
“No, that fruitcake Arcuri! Euie doesn't even know. You could have warned me about this stuff, Refo.”
I shrugged. “I'm a virgin in the pube perming department, Stan.”
“Just what did he do to ….?” Frank's question was interrupted by Euie's drink delivery.
“Sazeracs,” Euie announced with pride.
“They're good,” Stan said. “I've had a few, in case you can't tell.”
“Stan, about the dog ...” I began. A whiskey-soaked Stan might be a dog-loving Stan.
“Fuck the dog!” Stan raised his glass. “Not literally, of course. Although nothing is a surprise any more.” He glanced rather fondly at Euie.
“He'll only be here sometimes - when I have to stay all week.”
“Heart-shaped pubic hair, that's what's weird. Dogs are perfectly normal.” Stan took a generous pull on his drink.
“I told him not to. I told him you wouldn't like it.” Euie tried to gauge the depth of Stan's feelings.
“The thing was … This is so fucking weird to talk about, guys.” Stan paused and then figured what the hell. “I got a stiffie while he was, uh, working on me.”
“I knew I should have stayed in the room,” Euie lamented.
“ 'S ok, Euie. You were picking out underwear.”
“Stanley, he didn't … Did he?”
“I didn't cum if that's what you mean.” Stan smiled and held up his glass. “Got another in that pitcher, Eustace?” Euie went to the kitchen.
“Who ever thought that at my age I be … learning new tricks?” Stan was now chuckling freely. “I almost came,” he whispered with a louche confidentiality. “That guy has a very talented mouth. He said he has a thing for older guys.”
“I have a thing for older guys, too,” Euie said, returning with a close to full pitcher. Just how much of Stan's confession he had heard was uncertain. “I should like older guys, being one myself.” He refreshed the four drinks.
“Uh, Refo … Frank … Can I ask: do you guys ever do it to each other? In the same night, I mean.” Stan asked looking at Frank and me. I felt my face redden.
“Stan! You can't ask things like that!” Euie was appalled.
“Look at Refo blush,” Frank almost giggled. “So I'll answer. Not all that often. We like to specialize. One thing one night; something else on another. Mostly. There are exceptions.”
“And fidelity,” Stan continued. “What about fidelity?”
“All righty-roo,” Euie almost screamed. “Enough truth or dare.”
“I haven't dared 'em to do anything,” Stan complained.
“No, you haven't; but I think we better walk the dog before your tolerance gets challenged.”
Merle was happy to go for a walk. He's always happy; it's in his genes. Half a block along the dark side street Frank gave me a kiss on the cheek. “You know, Stan had a good question. We've never talked about it. What about fidelity, Reef?”
I didn't know what to say. I was absolutely stunned by the question. “I love you, Frank. I'm not even tempted by anybody else.” I told him about Lucien and the young man at work. “A year ago, I'd have been in on that. Today … nothing.”
“Nothing? Not even a little chub?”
“Little chubs don't count, Frank.”
“Well, we agree on that much. That's a start. One step at a time.” Frank squeezed my hand. His words were soothing and very sexy. We walked in silence for a block watching Merle explore every walkway. Getting back home again with Frank and Merle felt perfect .
Soothing was the word for it. And sensuous, there was another accurate descriptor. And slow. And loving. We took our turns fucking each other. When I was on all fours feeling Frank in me and on me, I suddenly exploded, shooting with little warning. Immediately I heard Frank groan and felt him drive deeper into me. With barely an increase in tempo I felt his cock swell and come in me.
I felt totally relaxed. Work pressures were continents away. A man who loved me was intimately close. Who needs a little chub when bliss like this was all around?
Very nice, Rory.
Very nice, indeed.
Very nice, indeed.