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Rory's Stories
- Thread starter EasyRory
- Start date
Rory,
You always have multiple scenarios working at the same time.
Darren, Morrie, Nicky - poor, poor Nicky. With an older model TT.
Then back to California with Alex and Heiko. And the fuckhead Irishman.
And, who is this Mario, next door, getting his rocks off to the boys banging each other?
A new member of the cast and crew? Does he play lacrosse?
You always have multiple scenarios working at the same time.
Darren, Morrie, Nicky - poor, poor Nicky. With an older model TT.
Then back to California with Alex and Heiko. And the fuckhead Irishman.
And, who is this Mario, next door, getting his rocks off to the boys banging each other?
A new member of the cast and crew? Does he play lacrosse?
EasyRory
JUB Addict
Session Sixty-Five
Darren got home from New York and was greeted by Carolyn and Monica..”Darren, we saw such cute pictures of you and that gorgeous girl you are working with.” Carolyn gave him a little salute in greeting.
“Oh, thanks. I guess you'll be seeing more of us, depending on what TV shows you watch. Sports and the soaps; that's what they have picked to reach Zara's customers.” He unpacked and went to see his brother next door.
“Hey, killer. Z's not here; he's shooting some ads in the city. How was your trip?” Eric asked.
“I ended up staying with Tanyeli again. No cameras this time, just a quiet night. I don't know what's up with her.”
“She's lonesome. She likes cute guys. You're cute and available. Does it have to be complicated?”
“You think I'm cute?” Darren asked. Eric had never paid him an explicit compliment before.
“I'm in love with your brother who looks just like you. Of course I think your cute. More than cute. Rakishly handsome. Devilishly hot. A sexy package. Why are you fishing for praise?”
“I don't know, Eric. Everything seems too good right now. I'm waiting for the earthquake, the big one. Every time I think I can trust people, something wrecks everything.”
“Save your money and be nice to Rory. He's your fallback.”
“He's a lot more than that. I'd be happy working for him full time. His team is the greatest bunch of people. But the modeling thing is a lot of cash and everybody telling me how great I am and … I mentioned the money, right?”
“That stuff can evaporate overnight. That's why I said save your money.” Eric shifted the conversation. “You know your grandfather is super proud of you and Z? He's got a scrapbook.”
“Really? How come my father is such a shit?”
“Fathers and sons... it's hard to figure out the friction. I had a ton of trouble, too. My mother, in a sober moment years ago, said to remember that sons take it more seriously than the fathers do. One of these days, he'll be willing to forget the bad times; make sure you are, too.... Which reminds me, speaking of bad times ... How life with the two women?”
“It's fine. I don't know your mother very well yet - I've been away a lot since she moved in; but Carolyn is perfect. She never criticizes, but she's always got a little piece of really good advice she throws out. Most of the time she understands what's on my mind better than I do.”
“She's amazing that way. I hope my mother picks up on it. Carolyn pretty much got Z to finish college when he was starting to think he'd never do it.”
Eric would make a great father, Darren thought. “I'm going to see Rory. Tell Z I want to talk to him. Zara's making us out to be rivals. I don't want him thinking that was my idea.”
Tim went to the Santa Rita County Jail to question Josh. “I can't believe they're holding you. I'm even a little surprised they charged you.” Tim let some of the age-old friction between prosecutors and police show. “What I'd like you to do is think about what you saw. Is there anything you can tell me about the guy you saw shoot Dorrance. Don't rush. Try to picture it in your head. Let the whole scene replay.”
“He was a little shorter than Ted. I told you about the scars. T shaped, thin, white maybe scars on both hands. T so that he could read it if he held his hands out. Upside down to anybody else. The top of the T was wide. He had a scraggly beard. Dark. So he wasn't blond or red-headed. I didn't see his eyes clearly. He sounded Anglo, definitely not black or Asian. His accent sounded local, but not a surfer-stoner type. Wait. He had on a plaid wool cap, the kind hunters wear. I couldn't tell the color, maybe red with darker stripes making the plaid. I can see him in my mind and he's otherwise a just a dark blob. That's all.”
“Nothing else? Picture him again.”
“Ok, a ring. Must have been on his right hand, the gun was in his left. The ring was on his ring finger but not a wedding band, not a school ring either, too small for that. Maybe something that would have an initial on it.”
“Ok, so he's probably left handed as well. That's something. You doing ok here?”
“I'll survive.” No sense telling him he sex is fabulous, Josh decided.
Daegan stayed away from the room until the library closed. He went back not knowing what to expect. The shock of seeing Heiko and Alex was still fresh in his head. That horny bastard probably talked little Alex into lying down and then raped him or something, Daegan thought, just like he tries with me all the time. And Alex couldn't defend himself, poor kid. I need to move out, that's what I should do. Maybe I could swap roommates with somebody. Or just move out. I can't take all this pressure and sex obsession. Why can't Heiko drink a Guinness or six and jack off like normal guys? He has to make everything a great fuck session. I can understand a blow job now and then, but ...
He got to the door and after a brief hesitation walked in. The room was dark. Heiko was sitting reading by the light of just his desk lamp. His bed was neatly made and showed no signs of the earlier savagery. “Rapist,” Daegan said.
“Bullshit. It was nothing like that.”
“You couldn't get me so you had to force yourself on little Alex.”
“Daegan, you're wrong. I'm telling you ...”
“Lucky you're not telling it to the campus cops. Alex has always been so nice to you. And you go and fuck a little boy.”
Heiko raised his voice. “He's not a little boy. He's as big as you are, if you took the trouble to notice anything. His cock is even bigger. And I didn't fuck him. He fucked me. And he was damn good at it. He was unbelievable. A hundred times better than you, asshole.”
Daegan was stunned.
Heiko continued, no longer shouting. “A thousand times better. He could give you lessons. The touch of his hand is hotter than anything you've ever done, you selfish prick.”
“I don't believe you,” Daegan said with disgust.
“He made me come twice. Half the time I don't come at all with you. But you don't even notice that, do you? You have no idea what I feel. You just want to fuck something and go to sleep.”
“Bullshit.”
“I'm done, Daegan. Tired of being a toy you use for masturbation.”
They studied in silence. Daegan still didn't believe a word Heiko said, not a single word; their relationship festered until the video came out.
Mario couldn't believe what he had heard through the thin wall. Man, I gotta meet this Alex! He pictured his ideal Stanford man. Clean-cut, Anglo, tall, slim, hot, with a dick that wouldn't quit. Blond? No, not important. We'd be roommates and he'd take lots of showers. He pictured his ideal guy wearing just a towel around his waist. Going to the shower. No, better yet coming back from the shower. Hair damp. That old towel, used hundreds of times, is wet and clinging to the curves of his tight ass. The long use has worn it thin. You can even see the darkness of the cleavage right through the cloth. It shows off his bulge in the front. Circumcised, of course; it's so obvious to see. The whole head of his cock is outlined in detail by the thinning terry cloth. Oh baby, let that towel drop and bend over a little for me. He might taste a little soapy, but that wouldn't matter. Let me put my tongue …
Ah, fuck! He came all over the place again. Mario wiped up with his underwear and went back to dreaming. Alex, is that you in the towel? He sighed aloud. Getting a single room was a mistake … Oh, man, I so need to get laid … Fat chance of that happening … He felt his limp dick, squeezed it gently, and spread his legs. He felt down farther, it felt so good to press on his asshole. He imagined it was the phantom Alex doing it, pressing on him with his hard cock. I'd let him do anything he wanted, Mario told himself, anything. Maybe it doesn't feel that great, the virgin young man pondered. How would I know? I gotta find out somehow; I will find out, he promised himself.
The video changed things for a lot of people. Bradley went home to San Luis Obispo for a long weekend and decided he would be cheerful about enduring a family dinner. His parents, his Vroman grandmother, his older brother and his wife, and a younger brother. There seemed to be some tension but there was always something going on under the surface. Things were going along smoothly, Bradley thought, until he said something about a fraternity hot dog eating contest. His mother burst into tears and ran from the table. His father looked at him and told him to be gone before he got back. His older brother called him a pervert and his younger brother giggled and left the room. Then Grandmother said, “Bradley, dear, if you make any more movies, could you pick a stage name?” She picked up a few dishes and went to the kitchen. His sister-in-law was the only one who made sense of the scene.
“I guess you haven't seen yourself on the Internet. Search on your name and you'll see what everybody's all excited about. It looked to me like you were enjoying yourself, but the rest of them think you've destroyed the family name of something. Your Dad's been the worst. Even the dog has been hiding from him. You probably should think about going back to school or staying with a friend or something.”
“But … What video?”
He drove nonstop back to Palo Alto and fired up his laptop. Searching on 'Bradley Vroman' turned up an entry 'Son of Back Flip Fuck.” Alex had warned him but nothing could have prepared him for what he watched. Bradley was horrified right from the opening credits. The cast titles listed the usual connection of silly porn names and then said “Introducing Bradley Vroman.” His first mistake came back to him; he had asked for explicit credit in anything he did.
The video contained several scenes but importantly it included the scene Alex predicted. The editing was brilliant. The scene was artistic and sometimes surreal, a cascade of images showing Alex fucking the daylights out of Bradley in fantasy shots of multiple penetrations, thrustings, and passionate kissing, and a enough orgasms to fill a swimming pool Then with total realism, there was a cut that showed Bradley's face screwed up in pain. Cut to concern on Alex's face. “Oh … did I hurt you?” Cut to Bradleys tear-stained face, silently shaking his head no. Cut to Bradley on the bottom of a missionary coupling pulling Alex slowly into a deep kiss as they resume fucking. It was an arresting vignette of pain, concern, surrender, and need. Bradley felt his cock stirring as he watched.
“But that wasn't what happened,” Bradley screamed at the laptop. He remembered the events. The look of pain was Bradley groaning at one of Andrew's pathetic, punning jokes. “Did I hurt you?” was Alex talking to Chris's cat after he stepped on its tail. The tears were Bradley pouring a bottle of water on my head and shaking it off. The kiss? Well, Bradley admitted the kiss was real. Then he remembered his saying ok to Chris's request that he let Alex put his cock in 'just a little”. And there was that time that Alex slipped and went a little deeper. And then there was the whole of the cocksucking session that was shown as Alex's fantasy while he was fucking. The cocksucking was real; oh, yes, very real.
The video was seductive and seemed to be so realistic. It portrayed Bradley getting nailed and loving it. It made Alex look angelic and Bradley look first needy and then voracious.
The viewers comments reflected total acceptance of the video's scenario. “Wow! That Bradley dude is such a cum-guzzler.” “I'd fuck him and he'd beg for more.” “I met him. In real life, he's a screaming queen.” “Man, how loose do you think that asshole is by now?” “Braddie-poo! What a total slut!” “He used to escort in Chicago cheap. I nailed him twice.”
There were more. Sometimes they were complimentary. “Hot fuck. I think they're really in love.” “Nice body.” “Two nice bodies.” “Man that dick musta hit the right button. The dude is totally blissed out.” “Wish I'd been the bottom.”
He punched his phone. “Alex?”
“Sounds like you've seen the video. You in your room? I'll be right over.”
Alex was as good as his word; he was at the door in six and a half minutes. “I warned you.”
“Jeez Louise, Alex. That video is nothing like what we did.”
“It's accurate as to what we felt, though. You said you wouldn't have minded if we had fucked.”
“But it's destroyed me. My family threw me out. What are people here going to think? My real name in the titles.”
“Some of them will think you're pretty hot. I think you are. Look at it objectively, you conveyed a lot of passion.”
“You think I'm hot? Who cares what you think?”
“Well, you did. The kissing and the cocksucking was all you. I thought it was real. It felt real to me, like you were doing it for me. Chris wasn't saying a thing. He just took the pictures. You directed that part of the scene.”
“But you kept telling me it was the drugs.”
“Well, ok, maybe it was partly the drugs, but I was trying to cheer you up. Your real name, though … that's tough. Maybe you could change it.”
Bradley's phone buzzed. He glanced at the text message. “Cheryl wants to know if she can be in the next vid.”
“See,” Alex answered. “Things may not be so bad after all.”
“But the video shows me really liking it. How to I cover that up?”
“I thought you did really like it. A lot of straight guys do gay porn. They physically like the sex; it's just not their first choice … if they had a choice.”
“Do you really believe that? … See? You hesitated. You don't believe a word of that.”
“All I know is I liked it. I don't know really what other porn actors think,” Alex confessed and stopped trying to offer advice.
Bradley looked at Alex with the same concern Alex had shown in the video. “Why am I feeling sorry for you. I'm the one whose life is over.” He put his arm around Alex's shoulders and felt the barely resistible and magnetic pull he had felt in the studio. He backed away and still felt the alarming urge. He moved to the chair by his desk.
“If there's anything I can do to help ...” Alex offered.
“Get me another job? I think I'm on my own now. A couple of those Zara shows would get me through this last semester.” Bradley pounded on the desk. “How did I fuck things up?”
“I shouldn't have told you about the porn business.”
“Nobody forced me to do anything. Well, the drugs … that was low down … but it's my fault when you get right down to it.”
Alex answered his phone. “Oh, hi … Yes … I'm with him right now … Not a good idea, Andrew … Ok, I'll ask.” Alex covered the phone and looked at miserable Bradley. “You want to be a greeter at a semi-gay bar this weekend?”
“Semi-gay? What does that mean? It will only semi-wreck whatever's left of my reputation ?”
“Sounds like a no, Andrew,” Alex said into the phone. “I'll do it, if one of us is enough.”
“Wait. How much?” Bradley asked.
“Two hundred apiece,” Alex relayed.
“Three hundred. Both of us together are worth more,” Bradley countered.
Alex handed Bradley the phone. Andrew was full of soothing, ingratiating bullshit. “I love working with clients like you. Always reasonable. You're such a sweetie... and going far, believe me. We'll bill you as Bad Brad, the Stanford Grad. You like?”
Darren got home from New York and was greeted by Carolyn and Monica..”Darren, we saw such cute pictures of you and that gorgeous girl you are working with.” Carolyn gave him a little salute in greeting.
“Oh, thanks. I guess you'll be seeing more of us, depending on what TV shows you watch. Sports and the soaps; that's what they have picked to reach Zara's customers.” He unpacked and went to see his brother next door.
“Hey, killer. Z's not here; he's shooting some ads in the city. How was your trip?” Eric asked.
“I ended up staying with Tanyeli again. No cameras this time, just a quiet night. I don't know what's up with her.”
“She's lonesome. She likes cute guys. You're cute and available. Does it have to be complicated?”
“You think I'm cute?” Darren asked. Eric had never paid him an explicit compliment before.
“I'm in love with your brother who looks just like you. Of course I think your cute. More than cute. Rakishly handsome. Devilishly hot. A sexy package. Why are you fishing for praise?”
“I don't know, Eric. Everything seems too good right now. I'm waiting for the earthquake, the big one. Every time I think I can trust people, something wrecks everything.”
“Save your money and be nice to Rory. He's your fallback.”
“He's a lot more than that. I'd be happy working for him full time. His team is the greatest bunch of people. But the modeling thing is a lot of cash and everybody telling me how great I am and … I mentioned the money, right?”
“That stuff can evaporate overnight. That's why I said save your money.” Eric shifted the conversation. “You know your grandfather is super proud of you and Z? He's got a scrapbook.”
“Really? How come my father is such a shit?”
“Fathers and sons... it's hard to figure out the friction. I had a ton of trouble, too. My mother, in a sober moment years ago, said to remember that sons take it more seriously than the fathers do. One of these days, he'll be willing to forget the bad times; make sure you are, too.... Which reminds me, speaking of bad times ... How life with the two women?”
“It's fine. I don't know your mother very well yet - I've been away a lot since she moved in; but Carolyn is perfect. She never criticizes, but she's always got a little piece of really good advice she throws out. Most of the time she understands what's on my mind better than I do.”
“She's amazing that way. I hope my mother picks up on it. Carolyn pretty much got Z to finish college when he was starting to think he'd never do it.”
Eric would make a great father, Darren thought. “I'm going to see Rory. Tell Z I want to talk to him. Zara's making us out to be rivals. I don't want him thinking that was my idea.”
Tim went to the Santa Rita County Jail to question Josh. “I can't believe they're holding you. I'm even a little surprised they charged you.” Tim let some of the age-old friction between prosecutors and police show. “What I'd like you to do is think about what you saw. Is there anything you can tell me about the guy you saw shoot Dorrance. Don't rush. Try to picture it in your head. Let the whole scene replay.”
“He was a little shorter than Ted. I told you about the scars. T shaped, thin, white maybe scars on both hands. T so that he could read it if he held his hands out. Upside down to anybody else. The top of the T was wide. He had a scraggly beard. Dark. So he wasn't blond or red-headed. I didn't see his eyes clearly. He sounded Anglo, definitely not black or Asian. His accent sounded local, but not a surfer-stoner type. Wait. He had on a plaid wool cap, the kind hunters wear. I couldn't tell the color, maybe red with darker stripes making the plaid. I can see him in my mind and he's otherwise a just a dark blob. That's all.”
“Nothing else? Picture him again.”
“Ok, a ring. Must have been on his right hand, the gun was in his left. The ring was on his ring finger but not a wedding band, not a school ring either, too small for that. Maybe something that would have an initial on it.”
“Ok, so he's probably left handed as well. That's something. You doing ok here?”
“I'll survive.” No sense telling him he sex is fabulous, Josh decided.
Daegan stayed away from the room until the library closed. He went back not knowing what to expect. The shock of seeing Heiko and Alex was still fresh in his head. That horny bastard probably talked little Alex into lying down and then raped him or something, Daegan thought, just like he tries with me all the time. And Alex couldn't defend himself, poor kid. I need to move out, that's what I should do. Maybe I could swap roommates with somebody. Or just move out. I can't take all this pressure and sex obsession. Why can't Heiko drink a Guinness or six and jack off like normal guys? He has to make everything a great fuck session. I can understand a blow job now and then, but ...
He got to the door and after a brief hesitation walked in. The room was dark. Heiko was sitting reading by the light of just his desk lamp. His bed was neatly made and showed no signs of the earlier savagery. “Rapist,” Daegan said.
“Bullshit. It was nothing like that.”
“You couldn't get me so you had to force yourself on little Alex.”
“Daegan, you're wrong. I'm telling you ...”
“Lucky you're not telling it to the campus cops. Alex has always been so nice to you. And you go and fuck a little boy.”
Heiko raised his voice. “He's not a little boy. He's as big as you are, if you took the trouble to notice anything. His cock is even bigger. And I didn't fuck him. He fucked me. And he was damn good at it. He was unbelievable. A hundred times better than you, asshole.”
Daegan was stunned.
Heiko continued, no longer shouting. “A thousand times better. He could give you lessons. The touch of his hand is hotter than anything you've ever done, you selfish prick.”
“I don't believe you,” Daegan said with disgust.
“He made me come twice. Half the time I don't come at all with you. But you don't even notice that, do you? You have no idea what I feel. You just want to fuck something and go to sleep.”
“Bullshit.”
“I'm done, Daegan. Tired of being a toy you use for masturbation.”
They studied in silence. Daegan still didn't believe a word Heiko said, not a single word; their relationship festered until the video came out.
Mario couldn't believe what he had heard through the thin wall. Man, I gotta meet this Alex! He pictured his ideal Stanford man. Clean-cut, Anglo, tall, slim, hot, with a dick that wouldn't quit. Blond? No, not important. We'd be roommates and he'd take lots of showers. He pictured his ideal guy wearing just a towel around his waist. Going to the shower. No, better yet coming back from the shower. Hair damp. That old towel, used hundreds of times, is wet and clinging to the curves of his tight ass. The long use has worn it thin. You can even see the darkness of the cleavage right through the cloth. It shows off his bulge in the front. Circumcised, of course; it's so obvious to see. The whole head of his cock is outlined in detail by the thinning terry cloth. Oh baby, let that towel drop and bend over a little for me. He might taste a little soapy, but that wouldn't matter. Let me put my tongue …
Ah, fuck! He came all over the place again. Mario wiped up with his underwear and went back to dreaming. Alex, is that you in the towel? He sighed aloud. Getting a single room was a mistake … Oh, man, I so need to get laid … Fat chance of that happening … He felt his limp dick, squeezed it gently, and spread his legs. He felt down farther, it felt so good to press on his asshole. He imagined it was the phantom Alex doing it, pressing on him with his hard cock. I'd let him do anything he wanted, Mario told himself, anything. Maybe it doesn't feel that great, the virgin young man pondered. How would I know? I gotta find out somehow; I will find out, he promised himself.
The video changed things for a lot of people. Bradley went home to San Luis Obispo for a long weekend and decided he would be cheerful about enduring a family dinner. His parents, his Vroman grandmother, his older brother and his wife, and a younger brother. There seemed to be some tension but there was always something going on under the surface. Things were going along smoothly, Bradley thought, until he said something about a fraternity hot dog eating contest. His mother burst into tears and ran from the table. His father looked at him and told him to be gone before he got back. His older brother called him a pervert and his younger brother giggled and left the room. Then Grandmother said, “Bradley, dear, if you make any more movies, could you pick a stage name?” She picked up a few dishes and went to the kitchen. His sister-in-law was the only one who made sense of the scene.
“I guess you haven't seen yourself on the Internet. Search on your name and you'll see what everybody's all excited about. It looked to me like you were enjoying yourself, but the rest of them think you've destroyed the family name of something. Your Dad's been the worst. Even the dog has been hiding from him. You probably should think about going back to school or staying with a friend or something.”
“But … What video?”
He drove nonstop back to Palo Alto and fired up his laptop. Searching on 'Bradley Vroman' turned up an entry 'Son of Back Flip Fuck.” Alex had warned him but nothing could have prepared him for what he watched. Bradley was horrified right from the opening credits. The cast titles listed the usual connection of silly porn names and then said “Introducing Bradley Vroman.” His first mistake came back to him; he had asked for explicit credit in anything he did.
The video contained several scenes but importantly it included the scene Alex predicted. The editing was brilliant. The scene was artistic and sometimes surreal, a cascade of images showing Alex fucking the daylights out of Bradley in fantasy shots of multiple penetrations, thrustings, and passionate kissing, and a enough orgasms to fill a swimming pool Then with total realism, there was a cut that showed Bradley's face screwed up in pain. Cut to concern on Alex's face. “Oh … did I hurt you?” Cut to Bradleys tear-stained face, silently shaking his head no. Cut to Bradley on the bottom of a missionary coupling pulling Alex slowly into a deep kiss as they resume fucking. It was an arresting vignette of pain, concern, surrender, and need. Bradley felt his cock stirring as he watched.
“But that wasn't what happened,” Bradley screamed at the laptop. He remembered the events. The look of pain was Bradley groaning at one of Andrew's pathetic, punning jokes. “Did I hurt you?” was Alex talking to Chris's cat after he stepped on its tail. The tears were Bradley pouring a bottle of water on my head and shaking it off. The kiss? Well, Bradley admitted the kiss was real. Then he remembered his saying ok to Chris's request that he let Alex put his cock in 'just a little”. And there was that time that Alex slipped and went a little deeper. And then there was the whole of the cocksucking session that was shown as Alex's fantasy while he was fucking. The cocksucking was real; oh, yes, very real.
The video was seductive and seemed to be so realistic. It portrayed Bradley getting nailed and loving it. It made Alex look angelic and Bradley look first needy and then voracious.
The viewers comments reflected total acceptance of the video's scenario. “Wow! That Bradley dude is such a cum-guzzler.” “I'd fuck him and he'd beg for more.” “I met him. In real life, he's a screaming queen.” “Man, how loose do you think that asshole is by now?” “Braddie-poo! What a total slut!” “He used to escort in Chicago cheap. I nailed him twice.”
There were more. Sometimes they were complimentary. “Hot fuck. I think they're really in love.” “Nice body.” “Two nice bodies.” “Man that dick musta hit the right button. The dude is totally blissed out.” “Wish I'd been the bottom.”
He punched his phone. “Alex?”
“Sounds like you've seen the video. You in your room? I'll be right over.”
Alex was as good as his word; he was at the door in six and a half minutes. “I warned you.”
“Jeez Louise, Alex. That video is nothing like what we did.”
“It's accurate as to what we felt, though. You said you wouldn't have minded if we had fucked.”
“But it's destroyed me. My family threw me out. What are people here going to think? My real name in the titles.”
“Some of them will think you're pretty hot. I think you are. Look at it objectively, you conveyed a lot of passion.”
“You think I'm hot? Who cares what you think?”
“Well, you did. The kissing and the cocksucking was all you. I thought it was real. It felt real to me, like you were doing it for me. Chris wasn't saying a thing. He just took the pictures. You directed that part of the scene.”
“But you kept telling me it was the drugs.”
“Well, ok, maybe it was partly the drugs, but I was trying to cheer you up. Your real name, though … that's tough. Maybe you could change it.”
Bradley's phone buzzed. He glanced at the text message. “Cheryl wants to know if she can be in the next vid.”
“See,” Alex answered. “Things may not be so bad after all.”
“But the video shows me really liking it. How to I cover that up?”
“I thought you did really like it. A lot of straight guys do gay porn. They physically like the sex; it's just not their first choice … if they had a choice.”
“Do you really believe that? … See? You hesitated. You don't believe a word of that.”
“All I know is I liked it. I don't know really what other porn actors think,” Alex confessed and stopped trying to offer advice.
Bradley looked at Alex with the same concern Alex had shown in the video. “Why am I feeling sorry for you. I'm the one whose life is over.” He put his arm around Alex's shoulders and felt the barely resistible and magnetic pull he had felt in the studio. He backed away and still felt the alarming urge. He moved to the chair by his desk.
“If there's anything I can do to help ...” Alex offered.
“Get me another job? I think I'm on my own now. A couple of those Zara shows would get me through this last semester.” Bradley pounded on the desk. “How did I fuck things up?”
“I shouldn't have told you about the porn business.”
“Nobody forced me to do anything. Well, the drugs … that was low down … but it's my fault when you get right down to it.”
Alex answered his phone. “Oh, hi … Yes … I'm with him right now … Not a good idea, Andrew … Ok, I'll ask.” Alex covered the phone and looked at miserable Bradley. “You want to be a greeter at a semi-gay bar this weekend?”
“Semi-gay? What does that mean? It will only semi-wreck whatever's left of my reputation ?”
“Sounds like a no, Andrew,” Alex said into the phone. “I'll do it, if one of us is enough.”
“Wait. How much?” Bradley asked.
“Two hundred apiece,” Alex relayed.
“Three hundred. Both of us together are worth more,” Bradley countered.
Alex handed Bradley the phone. Andrew was full of soothing, ingratiating bullshit. “I love working with clients like you. Always reasonable. You're such a sweetie... and going far, believe me. We'll bill you as Bad Brad, the Stanford Grad. You like?”
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Thank you that made me come.
Rory,
A whirlwind of activity, again.
Darren gets home, greeted by the ladies, then has a good chat with Eric.
Tim questioned our poor sap in Ted's murder.
Our Stanford boys are on the outs - with our Irish PUTZ still not getting it, and our Deutsch nobility getting fed up to the max.
(And, the mysterious gumba in the single next door!)
And, the shit hits the fan for our boy Brad. With always working the angles Andrew.
Very intriguing, indeed.
A whirlwind of activity, again.
Darren gets home, greeted by the ladies, then has a good chat with Eric.
Tim questioned our poor sap in Ted's murder.
Our Stanford boys are on the outs - with our Irish PUTZ still not getting it, and our Deutsch nobility getting fed up to the max.
(And, the mysterious gumba in the single next door!)
And, the shit hits the fan for our boy Brad. With always working the angles Andrew.
Very intriguing, indeed.
EasyRory
JUB Addict
Session Sixty-Six
Josh was getting used to jail. The noise at night - the screaming was the hardest part. The number of crazy people in jail far exceeds the tiny number who get off on insanity pleas. This place is full of semi-functional whackos who hear voices, who feel compelled to do things, who are detached from any form of reality, Josh thought. It made Berkeley's academic battles look like polite confusion in a benign Bedlam.
Roger was a motorcycle mechanic. He judged people mainly on whether they would choose a Suzuki over a Kawasaki. The Suzuki fan he saw as a possible friend; the Kawasaki owner was raw meat. “Kawasaki riders were born to get fucked,” was his considered opinion. People with no opinion on the Suzuki-Kawasaki matter, people like Josh, who had said “Damned if I know,” left him speechless but willing to explore. Versatility comes in many forms.
Josh's end of the nightly sex had been getting more interesting. Roger was still very passive when bottoming but no longer feigned sleep. Missionary style became his preference and he perceptively and considerately held onto Josh to prevent any falls out of bed. He wouldn't kiss him ever; but he came close a couple of times. There was an almost-kiss, a brushing of Roger's lips against Josh's throat one night and a couple of nights before Josh thought Roger had actually planted one on his shoulder. It may have been his imagination.
Roger continued to reject any discussion of their relationship. Josh imprudently told his cellmate that he was glad to have Roger for a cellmate. “That's a mistake,” Roger said. “we're not going to be here long. You can't count on anything in jail; that's part of what makes it so hard to take.” Josh tried to say it would be nice while it lasted, but Roger again stated, “It doesn't help to overanalyse things.”
So or a short while they lapsed into a routine that was disrupted as soon as it got comfortable. Roger's boss was found to have been systematically cheating all his employees for years and the case against Roger was dropped. Of course he was guilty of assault and battery; but under the circumstances it wasn't worth a trial with a sympathetic jury.
So one afternoon Roger was released. “See me when you get out,” he told Josh. “Try motorcycle shops around the airport. I'll be in one of them.”
When you get out sounded so much better than if. Josh wished him luck and kept things impersonal. He stayed and Roger left and he missed Roger terribly. Those eleven shared couplings over two weeks had developed a bond that was intensified by the susceptibility of youth, the distortion of time in jail, and plain old desperation.
Bradley wasn't desperate but his head became a mire of mental quicksand of his own making. The meet-and-greet session was at Istanbulla's and the pay included a kicker for crowd numbers, which were overwhelming. The trouble began when he and Alex were given mikes for an impromptu question and answer session.
The first questioner began, “That video was so impowering for me. You convinced me to let my boy friend ..you know … fuck me for the first time. Was that really your first time in the video, too?”
Alex blurted, “Not mine.” His grin got laughs.
“It was my first time for anything, with a guy, that is,” Bradley answered.
The next questioner was more probing, “You portrayed the passion of bottoming so well. I can't believe it was your first. You don't get that good overnight.”
“Well, I had been drugged,” Alex said. “I got a dose of E and didn't know it.”
Andrew quickly grabbed Alex's mike and interjected, “No, you didn't. I just said that to get you in the mood. There were no drugs. I'm not crazy. You could sue me if I actually gave you drugs.”
No drugs! Bradley's mind felt the pull of the quicksand. His own belief in his mental innocence depended on Andrew's having drugged him. No drugs meant everything was real. No drugs meant he wanted it all to happen. No drugs meant …
Bradley had a hard time focusing on the following questions until he heard Alex tell a questioner, “Of course we like each other. Don't we, Brad?” Bradley nodded dumbly.
The questioner pursued it. “I think it was all acting and editing. Let's see a kiss.”
Bradley braced himself but Andrew stepped in. “These young men are professionals. You want to see action, you'll have to pay. In fact, Istanbulla is worried that this Q&A is cutting into her bar tabs too much. But before we go, let's hear applause if you want to see another video.” The clapping, cheering , and whistling lasted a good minute.
Bradley and Alex joined the crowd and let their fans talk. The most common comment was like the first questioner's. The video had made people's love, relationship, sex life, or just life in general better by showing two men who convinced every viewer that they loved each other.
Of course, as was to be expected, there were a few outright offers of cash for sex; but they were easy to refuse. Either the amount or the propositioner was uninteresting. Except for one. The guy was not bad and the cash was $10,000. Alex laughed it off immediately, but Bradley was intrigued. He told himself his interest was academic, but the idea was planted in his head.
The night ended with a showing of the video on a jumbo screen. Bradley was driving back to Stanford with Andrew's $300 and Istanbulla's $250 tip in his pocket. “That's a lot of money for no sex at all. How much do you think we could have made if we ...”
“Ask Andrew. He probably has a number for anything you can think of. You really feel like driving all the way back to Palo Alto? If you want we could stay at my parent's house in Alameda.”
Bradley was tired and agreed. The hour was late enough that the thirty minute trip to Alameda sounded a lot better than ninety back to Palo Alto. Apparently Alex's parents hadn't seen the video; their greeting was friendly and unguarded. They were going to Truckee in the morning to check out a cabin on the south shore of Lake Tahoe and maybe get in a little trout fishing. The noise of their departure was what woke Alex the next morning.
“Wake up. Let's go for a run.” Alex proposed. A groggy but willing Bradley responded. Both boys were soon wide awake, pounding down the beach, and wishing the sun were a little higher in the sky.
“Alex,” hailed a voice.
“Rory, Tim,” Alex puffed, breathing hard. “This is Bradley a friend from school. Bradley, these guys taught me lacrosse.”
“Some more of the team is farther down the beach. If you're here this afternoon let's play,” Rory invited.
As Rory predicted, they next met Eric and Z, also out running. Alex greeted them and continued running south. Almost at Otis, they reversed course and headed back north. At Park Street they slowed to a walk.
“Don't you remember Z from the Zara show?” Alex asked.
“Right! I thought I had seen him before.”
“And Darren, his brother, lives here, too. It's the best looking lacrosse team in the country.”
They got back to Alex's house and took some microwaved instant coffee to the hot tub. The heat of the water and the coffee combined with the cold air perfectly as they sipped and soaked.
“So this is how you got that body,” Bradley commented.
“This is the easy part, the fun part. The lacrosse scrimmage is a pretty demanding workout. Do you want to stay and play this afternoon?”
“Sure. Meanwhile, what are we going to do about the video?”
“Not much we can do. It's out there and ...”
“No,” Bradley said. “I mean … I mean the part about Andrew not drugging us.”
“Does it matter? What's done is done.” Alex was being practical.
“It matters because it means … well, it means … I've been thinking, and it means ...”
“Just say it, Bradley. We've got nothing left to hide from each other.”
“It means I wanted to do what we did. I think I already knew that, even before Andrew said anything; but it means … I didn't just want sex, I wanted you.”
“You sure?”
“I think so, I'm …” Bradley began tentatively but then concluded, “Oh, hell yes, I'm sure. All I've been thinking about was that video ever since we made it.” Bradley made an awkward attempt to kiss Alex; their heads bumped and Bradley's erection ended up briefly poking into some part of Alex. “Now I'm embarrassed. That was such a dorky move. You're always the smooth operator and I'm the klutz.”
“There's a few million video viewers who don't think that at all, Brad.”
“I even like it when you call me Brad. I don't let anybody else call me that.”
“Grab your clothes and follow me.” Alex's invitation let to a couple of towels and his bed. “Now, remember how we get over embarrassment?” Alex pushed Bradley back onto the pillows and took the lead. Starting with a simple kiss he proceeded to reenact their video, more slowly, more carefully, and much more thoroughly than the studio simulation had been.
“Don't tease me, put it in, please, put it in,” Bradley asked.
“You're not ready yet,” Alex suggested. “First I want to ...”
“Just fuck me! Now! I want it now!” Bradley pulled Alex by the hips fully into his ass and then howled. “AAAHHH! GOD! OH SHIT!” Bradley went rigid and Alex pulled back a little while the overeager young man got used to a Real Cock in his ass instead of the virtual cock of his recent dreams.
“Easy, Brad, easy. Deep breaths. Relax. We don't have to do this.”
“Yes, we do. Yes, we do.” Tears ran down Bradley's cheeks as he insisted the penetration continue. “I want you.”
Alex gently began thrusting motions, not really fucking, just applying the pressure of pulling and pushing to Bradley's tight gripping ass. As soon as Bradley began to feel at ease with that, Alex increased the scope of his motion and the friction began. Bradley reached between them and felt his cock streaming precum. Alex thrust deeply and Bradley, mentally unprepared for the sensations, began cuming. It was the start of a long session. From nine in the morning until three in the afternoon there was time to try almost everything. Almost, because by the time Alex invited Bradley to top him, Bradley was too wiped out to make the attempt.
“I'm done. You made me cum so much, I won't be able to get it up for weeks.”
“Twice.” Alex gave him two kisses. “You came exactly twice. So what did you think?”
“Three times. Do you really have to ask? That was so much better than I expected. After the first painful part, I mean. Is it always like that?”
“I'm not sure. I'm not really all that experienced.”
“Which is way more experience than I have.”
“My friend Gareth said a little pain is always part of it, but it doesn't have to be much, if the top guy is doing his job right.”
“I'm so glad we did this, Alex. Aside from the sex, that video seems like something totally different now. I can understand some of the comments people made. You are the best teacher I could have had.”
“Want to hit the hot tub again? The lax game will be starting in about an hour.”
“Oh, shit. I forgot. Can I walk alright?” Bradley tried and was surprised when his legs operated normally. “So different. I feel so different. My first time with a girl was sort of an accomplishment. I felt all Yeah! I did it! With you, I feel … I can't explain.”
“It's the difference between fucking and getting fucked. The satisfactions aren't even close to the same. At least that's what I think,” Alex said.
At the park Rory explained that Tim would be delayed. He got a call from the Emeryville police. “He and Neil said they'd be along later. So let's play.”
They had enough players for a five-four split on the teams. The play was ragged but the fun wasn't and the scoring was high. Nobody wanted to defend; everybody was attacking. Except for Bradley. He was a click or two out of focus, concentrating more on his newly expanded awareness of the beauty of men's bodies in motion.
Tim and Neil arrived as the scrimmage was winding down. “I think we caught ourselves a killer.” Neil was pumped with excitement. “The guys in Emeryville rounded up some derelicts from Marina Park and one matched all the specs.”
After showers and clean clothes, the players reassembled in Z's kitchen to hear the story of the druggie with T scars on his hands. Neil said he confessed the minute he was caught but it was before he was given his rights, and the Emeryville police weren't aware of the crime; so the guy had to confess again, which he did, over and over. From the police point of view, the trouble was he was a total fruitcake, a mortally dangerous one, but hopelessly unconvictable.
“He'll end up at Napa State Hospital, getting better drugs than he was getting on the street,” Tim shrugged. “And Darren's old friend Josh will be back on the loose, a whole lot smarter than he started out being.”
“Is it announcement time?” Mark asked. All heads snapped to his direction. “Laurie and I are getting married.” After the congratulations were over, Mark continued, “Luke knew this would probably happen sooner or later and he encouraged me. I know it's kind of fast and I wouldn't be doing it so soon if it weren't Laurie. All I can say is our first born will be called Luke, even if it's a girl.” Mark looked at Larry and said, “We'll wait until the arena football season is over, so Cal can be here.”
“I promise you Andrew will knit something appropriate and will not attempt to sign Luke to a contract until he or she is at least eighteen years old,” Seth joked.
“Ok,” Z said. “The Racho Peralta burgers are ready. Load a plate and come to the grill. We have only ninety-five pounds more to eat.”
“More Meat to Eat. Sounds like a porn flick,” Eric noted.
As they walked back to Alex's house, Bradley tried to hold Alex's hand, but Alex resisted. “It's Alameda, a little propriety, please. We do it all here, we just don't flaunt it.”
When they got to the house Alex asked if Bradley wanted to go back to Palo Alto. Bradley said he'd be happy to spend another night here or they could stay in his apartment. “Anyplace that includes you in my bed.”
“Bradley, don't be getting too involved, here, after one night.”
“Alex you're the best sex with the best man I've ever known. I love you.”
“You don't really. It's just the sex talking. It's new and I admit it was great, but ...”
Bradley kissed him and things progressed rapidly. They did make it to the bedroom but not to the bed. The floor was more than good enough, although the cum stains on the rug might need a little work in the morning.
“I want to be naked with you all the time. First you claimed it was the drugs talking. Then you said it's the sex talking. And I say it's me talking. I love you Alex.”
“It's something for sure, but don't call it love yet. Ok, Brad? Let's not make too much of this.”
“Love you, love you, love you.” Bradley punctuated his kisses with declarations totally ignoring Alex's request. “I can't be halfway about it. It's like having your cock halfway in me. Can't do that. All or nothing, Alex.”
Bradley was a sexy young man. He was not just good-looking, there was a charm that was part of his personality. Being with Bradley meant Alex got the full concentration. It was a powerful and captivating focus and Alex was no more immune than the soprano section of the girls' choir had been. They moved to the bed and Bradley was ready for more before Alex was.
“You want to sleep?” Bradley asked.
“Mmmm, no ... not exactly. Let's call it your turn, Brad. Show me what you got.”
Josh was getting used to jail. The noise at night - the screaming was the hardest part. The number of crazy people in jail far exceeds the tiny number who get off on insanity pleas. This place is full of semi-functional whackos who hear voices, who feel compelled to do things, who are detached from any form of reality, Josh thought. It made Berkeley's academic battles look like polite confusion in a benign Bedlam.
Roger was a motorcycle mechanic. He judged people mainly on whether they would choose a Suzuki over a Kawasaki. The Suzuki fan he saw as a possible friend; the Kawasaki owner was raw meat. “Kawasaki riders were born to get fucked,” was his considered opinion. People with no opinion on the Suzuki-Kawasaki matter, people like Josh, who had said “Damned if I know,” left him speechless but willing to explore. Versatility comes in many forms.
Josh's end of the nightly sex had been getting more interesting. Roger was still very passive when bottoming but no longer feigned sleep. Missionary style became his preference and he perceptively and considerately held onto Josh to prevent any falls out of bed. He wouldn't kiss him ever; but he came close a couple of times. There was an almost-kiss, a brushing of Roger's lips against Josh's throat one night and a couple of nights before Josh thought Roger had actually planted one on his shoulder. It may have been his imagination.
Roger continued to reject any discussion of their relationship. Josh imprudently told his cellmate that he was glad to have Roger for a cellmate. “That's a mistake,” Roger said. “we're not going to be here long. You can't count on anything in jail; that's part of what makes it so hard to take.” Josh tried to say it would be nice while it lasted, but Roger again stated, “It doesn't help to overanalyse things.”
So or a short while they lapsed into a routine that was disrupted as soon as it got comfortable. Roger's boss was found to have been systematically cheating all his employees for years and the case against Roger was dropped. Of course he was guilty of assault and battery; but under the circumstances it wasn't worth a trial with a sympathetic jury.
So one afternoon Roger was released. “See me when you get out,” he told Josh. “Try motorcycle shops around the airport. I'll be in one of them.”
When you get out sounded so much better than if. Josh wished him luck and kept things impersonal. He stayed and Roger left and he missed Roger terribly. Those eleven shared couplings over two weeks had developed a bond that was intensified by the susceptibility of youth, the distortion of time in jail, and plain old desperation.
Bradley wasn't desperate but his head became a mire of mental quicksand of his own making. The meet-and-greet session was at Istanbulla's and the pay included a kicker for crowd numbers, which were overwhelming. The trouble began when he and Alex were given mikes for an impromptu question and answer session.
The first questioner began, “That video was so impowering for me. You convinced me to let my boy friend ..you know … fuck me for the first time. Was that really your first time in the video, too?”
Alex blurted, “Not mine.” His grin got laughs.
“It was my first time for anything, with a guy, that is,” Bradley answered.
The next questioner was more probing, “You portrayed the passion of bottoming so well. I can't believe it was your first. You don't get that good overnight.”
“Well, I had been drugged,” Alex said. “I got a dose of E and didn't know it.”
Andrew quickly grabbed Alex's mike and interjected, “No, you didn't. I just said that to get you in the mood. There were no drugs. I'm not crazy. You could sue me if I actually gave you drugs.”
No drugs! Bradley's mind felt the pull of the quicksand. His own belief in his mental innocence depended on Andrew's having drugged him. No drugs meant everything was real. No drugs meant he wanted it all to happen. No drugs meant …
Bradley had a hard time focusing on the following questions until he heard Alex tell a questioner, “Of course we like each other. Don't we, Brad?” Bradley nodded dumbly.
The questioner pursued it. “I think it was all acting and editing. Let's see a kiss.”
Bradley braced himself but Andrew stepped in. “These young men are professionals. You want to see action, you'll have to pay. In fact, Istanbulla is worried that this Q&A is cutting into her bar tabs too much. But before we go, let's hear applause if you want to see another video.” The clapping, cheering , and whistling lasted a good minute.
Bradley and Alex joined the crowd and let their fans talk. The most common comment was like the first questioner's. The video had made people's love, relationship, sex life, or just life in general better by showing two men who convinced every viewer that they loved each other.
Of course, as was to be expected, there were a few outright offers of cash for sex; but they were easy to refuse. Either the amount or the propositioner was uninteresting. Except for one. The guy was not bad and the cash was $10,000. Alex laughed it off immediately, but Bradley was intrigued. He told himself his interest was academic, but the idea was planted in his head.
The night ended with a showing of the video on a jumbo screen. Bradley was driving back to Stanford with Andrew's $300 and Istanbulla's $250 tip in his pocket. “That's a lot of money for no sex at all. How much do you think we could have made if we ...”
“Ask Andrew. He probably has a number for anything you can think of. You really feel like driving all the way back to Palo Alto? If you want we could stay at my parent's house in Alameda.”
Bradley was tired and agreed. The hour was late enough that the thirty minute trip to Alameda sounded a lot better than ninety back to Palo Alto. Apparently Alex's parents hadn't seen the video; their greeting was friendly and unguarded. They were going to Truckee in the morning to check out a cabin on the south shore of Lake Tahoe and maybe get in a little trout fishing. The noise of their departure was what woke Alex the next morning.
“Wake up. Let's go for a run.” Alex proposed. A groggy but willing Bradley responded. Both boys were soon wide awake, pounding down the beach, and wishing the sun were a little higher in the sky.
“Alex,” hailed a voice.
“Rory, Tim,” Alex puffed, breathing hard. “This is Bradley a friend from school. Bradley, these guys taught me lacrosse.”
“Some more of the team is farther down the beach. If you're here this afternoon let's play,” Rory invited.
As Rory predicted, they next met Eric and Z, also out running. Alex greeted them and continued running south. Almost at Otis, they reversed course and headed back north. At Park Street they slowed to a walk.
“Don't you remember Z from the Zara show?” Alex asked.
“Right! I thought I had seen him before.”
“And Darren, his brother, lives here, too. It's the best looking lacrosse team in the country.”
They got back to Alex's house and took some microwaved instant coffee to the hot tub. The heat of the water and the coffee combined with the cold air perfectly as they sipped and soaked.
“So this is how you got that body,” Bradley commented.
“This is the easy part, the fun part. The lacrosse scrimmage is a pretty demanding workout. Do you want to stay and play this afternoon?”
“Sure. Meanwhile, what are we going to do about the video?”
“Not much we can do. It's out there and ...”
“No,” Bradley said. “I mean … I mean the part about Andrew not drugging us.”
“Does it matter? What's done is done.” Alex was being practical.
“It matters because it means … well, it means … I've been thinking, and it means ...”
“Just say it, Bradley. We've got nothing left to hide from each other.”
“It means I wanted to do what we did. I think I already knew that, even before Andrew said anything; but it means … I didn't just want sex, I wanted you.”
“You sure?”
“I think so, I'm …” Bradley began tentatively but then concluded, “Oh, hell yes, I'm sure. All I've been thinking about was that video ever since we made it.” Bradley made an awkward attempt to kiss Alex; their heads bumped and Bradley's erection ended up briefly poking into some part of Alex. “Now I'm embarrassed. That was such a dorky move. You're always the smooth operator and I'm the klutz.”
“There's a few million video viewers who don't think that at all, Brad.”
“I even like it when you call me Brad. I don't let anybody else call me that.”
“Grab your clothes and follow me.” Alex's invitation let to a couple of towels and his bed. “Now, remember how we get over embarrassment?” Alex pushed Bradley back onto the pillows and took the lead. Starting with a simple kiss he proceeded to reenact their video, more slowly, more carefully, and much more thoroughly than the studio simulation had been.
“Don't tease me, put it in, please, put it in,” Bradley asked.
“You're not ready yet,” Alex suggested. “First I want to ...”
“Just fuck me! Now! I want it now!” Bradley pulled Alex by the hips fully into his ass and then howled. “AAAHHH! GOD! OH SHIT!” Bradley went rigid and Alex pulled back a little while the overeager young man got used to a Real Cock in his ass instead of the virtual cock of his recent dreams.
“Easy, Brad, easy. Deep breaths. Relax. We don't have to do this.”
“Yes, we do. Yes, we do.” Tears ran down Bradley's cheeks as he insisted the penetration continue. “I want you.”
Alex gently began thrusting motions, not really fucking, just applying the pressure of pulling and pushing to Bradley's tight gripping ass. As soon as Bradley began to feel at ease with that, Alex increased the scope of his motion and the friction began. Bradley reached between them and felt his cock streaming precum. Alex thrust deeply and Bradley, mentally unprepared for the sensations, began cuming. It was the start of a long session. From nine in the morning until three in the afternoon there was time to try almost everything. Almost, because by the time Alex invited Bradley to top him, Bradley was too wiped out to make the attempt.
“I'm done. You made me cum so much, I won't be able to get it up for weeks.”
“Twice.” Alex gave him two kisses. “You came exactly twice. So what did you think?”
“Three times. Do you really have to ask? That was so much better than I expected. After the first painful part, I mean. Is it always like that?”
“I'm not sure. I'm not really all that experienced.”
“Which is way more experience than I have.”
“My friend Gareth said a little pain is always part of it, but it doesn't have to be much, if the top guy is doing his job right.”
“I'm so glad we did this, Alex. Aside from the sex, that video seems like something totally different now. I can understand some of the comments people made. You are the best teacher I could have had.”
“Want to hit the hot tub again? The lax game will be starting in about an hour.”
“Oh, shit. I forgot. Can I walk alright?” Bradley tried and was surprised when his legs operated normally. “So different. I feel so different. My first time with a girl was sort of an accomplishment. I felt all Yeah! I did it! With you, I feel … I can't explain.”
“It's the difference between fucking and getting fucked. The satisfactions aren't even close to the same. At least that's what I think,” Alex said.
At the park Rory explained that Tim would be delayed. He got a call from the Emeryville police. “He and Neil said they'd be along later. So let's play.”
They had enough players for a five-four split on the teams. The play was ragged but the fun wasn't and the scoring was high. Nobody wanted to defend; everybody was attacking. Except for Bradley. He was a click or two out of focus, concentrating more on his newly expanded awareness of the beauty of men's bodies in motion.
Tim and Neil arrived as the scrimmage was winding down. “I think we caught ourselves a killer.” Neil was pumped with excitement. “The guys in Emeryville rounded up some derelicts from Marina Park and one matched all the specs.”
After showers and clean clothes, the players reassembled in Z's kitchen to hear the story of the druggie with T scars on his hands. Neil said he confessed the minute he was caught but it was before he was given his rights, and the Emeryville police weren't aware of the crime; so the guy had to confess again, which he did, over and over. From the police point of view, the trouble was he was a total fruitcake, a mortally dangerous one, but hopelessly unconvictable.
“He'll end up at Napa State Hospital, getting better drugs than he was getting on the street,” Tim shrugged. “And Darren's old friend Josh will be back on the loose, a whole lot smarter than he started out being.”
“Is it announcement time?” Mark asked. All heads snapped to his direction. “Laurie and I are getting married.” After the congratulations were over, Mark continued, “Luke knew this would probably happen sooner or later and he encouraged me. I know it's kind of fast and I wouldn't be doing it so soon if it weren't Laurie. All I can say is our first born will be called Luke, even if it's a girl.” Mark looked at Larry and said, “We'll wait until the arena football season is over, so Cal can be here.”
“I promise you Andrew will knit something appropriate and will not attempt to sign Luke to a contract until he or she is at least eighteen years old,” Seth joked.
“Ok,” Z said. “The Racho Peralta burgers are ready. Load a plate and come to the grill. We have only ninety-five pounds more to eat.”
“More Meat to Eat. Sounds like a porn flick,” Eric noted.
As they walked back to Alex's house, Bradley tried to hold Alex's hand, but Alex resisted. “It's Alameda, a little propriety, please. We do it all here, we just don't flaunt it.”
When they got to the house Alex asked if Bradley wanted to go back to Palo Alto. Bradley said he'd be happy to spend another night here or they could stay in his apartment. “Anyplace that includes you in my bed.”
“Bradley, don't be getting too involved, here, after one night.”
“Alex you're the best sex with the best man I've ever known. I love you.”
“You don't really. It's just the sex talking. It's new and I admit it was great, but ...”
Bradley kissed him and things progressed rapidly. They did make it to the bedroom but not to the bed. The floor was more than good enough, although the cum stains on the rug might need a little work in the morning.
“I want to be naked with you all the time. First you claimed it was the drugs talking. Then you said it's the sex talking. And I say it's me talking. I love you Alex.”
“It's something for sure, but don't call it love yet. Ok, Brad? Let's not make too much of this.”
“Love you, love you, love you.” Bradley punctuated his kisses with declarations totally ignoring Alex's request. “I can't be halfway about it. It's like having your cock halfway in me. Can't do that. All or nothing, Alex.”
Bradley was a sexy young man. He was not just good-looking, there was a charm that was part of his personality. Being with Bradley meant Alex got the full concentration. It was a powerful and captivating focus and Alex was no more immune than the soprano section of the girls' choir had been. They moved to the bed and Bradley was ready for more before Alex was.
“You want to sleep?” Bradley asked.
“Mmmm, no ... not exactly. Let's call it your turn, Brad. Show me what you got.”
EasyRory said:
Gotta love your closing lines, Rory.
Great update.
Josh & Roger - 11 nights of the 14.
Roger's sprung, now it looks like Josh will be out, too.
Maybe their Jailhouse "Romance????" stands a chance of surviving the cell out in the free world? It will be interesting to see.
And the up close and personal with Alex and Brad - Oh so Up Close and Personal, lol.
And wedding bells in the office, too.
Your usual whirlwind of activity.
EasyRory
JUB Addict
I have received the criticism from a non-JUB source that I use too many commas. The conclusion I take from that is that I write too many inverted sentences.
So I am trying to eliminate commas and perhaps write simpler sentences without getting into a Dick and Jane mode.
Any comments from the readers here?
So I am trying to eliminate commas and perhaps write simpler sentences without getting into a Dick and Jane mode.
Any comments from the readers here?
You carry on dialogues among your characters - you have more complex sentence structures. That's not a bad thing.
Your grammar is good, you use punctuation to help clarify the sentence pacing - those are good things.
Methinks someone is too busy wanking to read a story.
No complaints from this quarter.
And, I could be VERY exacting, if I chose to.
Just ask Auto.
Or eJ Michaels.
Your grammar is good, you use punctuation to help clarify the sentence pacing - those are good things.
Methinks someone is too busy wanking to read a story.
No complaints from this quarter.
And, I could be VERY exacting, if I chose to.
Just ask Auto.
Or eJ Michaels.
EasyRory
JUB Addict
Session Sixty-Seven
Getting out of jail is like graduating from a repressive but predictable version of hell to utter chaos. First it feels good and then oddly it doesn't. Josh didn't want to go home, although that was an option. His parents would be welcoming in an I-told-you-so way; but he knew their reproaches would be constant. He went to his old apartment and found that Jordan had moved and somebody else lived there. A cheap hotel would be better than living in his car, but when you have little money and no job, no hotel is cheap enough. Roger's look-me-up offer seemed worth a try. He went to a public library and looked for motorcycle shops near the airport. Suzuki of Oakland on MacArthur was a place to start.
The head of the repair department had heard of Roger and had seen him once recently. “I have taken him on – he's that good a mechanic; but I didn't have an opening. Let me see if I still have the number he left. Hmmm … Here it is.”
Josh dialed the 510 area code number and got a recording. “If you want a Suzuki repaired, come to 2960 Main Street in Alameda. You'll find me. If you need a Kawasaki repaired, good luck.”
The address on Main was on the north end of the island near the old Navy Base. It was a nondescript building that had once been part of the Kaiser Shipyard. Most of the property had been converted into a winery that trucked in wholesale grapes to produce overpriced plonk. 2960 was a large building that had been subdivided into bays used by a variety of small industrial businesses. Over one bay was a hand drawn sign that depicted a cycle and read Mechanical Miracles. The interior was a surreal arrangement of motorcycle fragments and parts in an open area on the left. Tools and lubricants tended to be on the right. The only subdivision was a tarpaulin screening off a section in the rear.
“Roger?” Josh called out.
Roger emerged from behind the tarp. He bent Josh over the seat of the cleanest bike in the place, a GSX-R1000, and fucked him. Pulling his coveralls up, he said, “I heard you were out. I've been waiting.”
“I didn't know if you would ...”
“I missed you,” Roger said simply. “You want to eat something?” Josh nodded and they climbed on an older Katana 750. “Sit close. I want to feel your body against me.”
Josh put on a helmet and snuggled up to Roger, feeling the welcome warmth of a familiar human body. They ate in an inexpensive Vietnamese place on Webster. The food and service were as great as the price was cheap. After the first course, a one-way conversation began. Roger explained that the shop represented everything he had. Some of the parts were left over in his old garage; the consumable supplies represented his investment of almost every dime he had.
“I need to repair a few bikes so I can stock more parts. I have to ask for part payment before I can do any work and a lot of people don't want to pay in advance. It's hand to mouth right now. But things will get better. People know I do good work and working alone this way I can't get in fights with anybody.”
They mounted the bike for the ride back to the shop and Roger made another request. “Hold me around the waist? I like having you back there. That's right. Closer. Right up against my butt.”
When they got back to the shop, Roger fucked Josh again. They lay in a cot behind the tarp this time. When it was over, it was Josh's turn. As Josh entered Roger's ass, Roger pulled him close and kissed him. He gave him a real kiss for the first time ever and then repeated his earlier remark, “I missed you a lot.”
“Show me what you got” was Alex's prelude to disappointment. Bradley's first time fucking a guy revealed inexperience, insensitivity, and an physical ineptitude that went beyond what Alex expected based on Bradley's reputation with girls. He knew it would be quick, but he hadn't expected to be treated like part of the furniture.
“How did I do?” asked a proud and beaming Bradley when it was over. His cock was still hard.
“You look like you did fine. Your question should have been how I did? Did I like it? Did I cum?” Alex tried not to be too critical.
“Yes. Ok. How did you like it?” Alex didn't answer and they kissed a little until Bradley figured it out. “You saying it sucked, huh? And not in any kind of good way.” Alex still didn't say anything. “Damn. I so didn't want to suck at this. I wanted to be perfect for you, Alex. I love you.”
Alex smiled. He genuinely liked Bradley and found him appealingly sexy, but this love business had to stop. “You don't love me. You're just excited about discovering this new kind of sex that turned out to be really hot. That's what your feeling.” Alex could hear Gareth telling him almost the same thing not so long ago. “I don't want to hurt you; but that's what you're feeling.”
“I don't know what makes you the expert on what I'm feeling.” Bradley was very hurt both by his failure as a physical lover and by his rejection as a romantic one. The sopranos had never treated him with Alex's clinical detachment.
Alex offered him some hope. “The sex will get better if you want it to.”
“Tonight? … Please?” Bradley asked.
“I'll meet you after classes and we can see what my homework looks like. Meet me at Heiko's room, ok?”
Neil was running along the beach. He arrived early for the lacrosse scrimmage and took advantage of the time. Tim's remark about his weight stung and he was paying attention to his diet. Those tasty and always available doughnuts, he concluded, destroyed more policemen than criminals did. He saw Darren running ahead of him. He is incredibly good looking, Neil thought; and then he flushed from embarrassment at the thought. But I don't have any physical desire for him. It should be reasonable just to accept the fact he's probably the most handsome man I know. Except maybe Rory, he's hot, too; Tim's a lucky guy. And Z, he's almost a copy of Darren; and he and Eric are perfect together. And God damn it, there's nothing wrong with me thinking stuff like this. They're decent guys and that's all there is to it. He got to the park and joined Tim, Rory, and Darren. He did his best not to stare at Rory and Darren.
Fortunately Jerry was the next to arrive and had brought along some of the equipment ahead of Eric and Z. Neil was grateful for the excuse to move around, practicing passes with reliably heterosexual Jerry. And then he realized he had had more sex with Jerry in the room than with any one girl ever. Disturbing thoughts wouldn't go away.
“What's gotten into Neil?” Rory asked.
“I kidded him about gaining weight and I think he's a little self-conscious around hunks like you,” Tim said, winking at his lover. “He has lost a few pounds, though.”
Eric and Z arrived and Seth and Tom followed. “I wonder if the fact most of us are couples is bothering him,” Rory suggested to Tim and then asked Larry if he had heard from Cal.
Mark arrived and had brought Laurie with him. She had a special kiss for Eric, greeted her old friends and met some new ones. Jerry, the forthright Midwesterner, was immediately in awe and told her how pretty she looked. Naturally, she took a major liking to Jerry.
“That's a beautiful ring, Laurie. We were all happy to hear the good news,” Rory told her.
Laurie played goal tender and showed her skills to advantage; Cal wasn't the only one in her family with athletic ability. Her clingy jersey gave everyone a good idea of Mark's good fortune.
Laurie's participation inspired Neil to ask Jerry if maybe they should invite their nurse friends to join the game next time. It wouldn't hurt to butch things up a little, he thought to himself and then realized that before he met Andrew he had never heard the term 'butch up'. It's like I'm turning gay without the benefit of all the good sex, he thought and then his mind recoiled again. Good sex! My God! What am I thinking about? Preoccupied, he completely missed a pass from Jerry and cost his side a goal.
At the end of the game Neil went alone to meet some friends in San Leandro at a sports bar. He arrived first and waited at the bar sipping a Bud Lite and resisting the honey nuts. For the first time in his life that he knew of, he was hit on by a guy. The man sitting next to him opened with, “You're in good shape. What gym do you belong to?”
“We have a workout room where I work and I play in a pick up lacrosse game,” Neil responded. The guy checked him out again, looking up and down his body. Neil wasn't certain but he felt a clammy nagging and undeniable air of prurient interest in his questioner. Fortunately his friends arrived and he moved to their table putting the incident out of his mind.
After the game Mark and Laurie changed and then went to enjoy Z's cooking. They took along a champagne bottle and explained that it goes with everything. Z insisted that it didn't go with his version of spicy and acidic tuna, so they saved it for dessert. In between courses Mark pulled Eric aside and whispered that a certain Mexican company had paid ten thousand against his mortgage.
“We could lower the payments on the balance or just let it pay off early. Whatever you want,” Mark offered. “It was an electronic transfer from a big Mexican bank. Tony must be doing alright.”
Eric was surprised by how much the news of Tony's payment cheered him and the champagne was doubly welcome. “See? There you go,” Z told him later, “There's no reason to worry about money. We'll do fine. You won't have to keep working full time when you go back to school.”
“Z, it's only two night courses at Berkeley.”
“That's just this semester, Doctor.” Z knew and Eric knew what might lie ahead: three years of drudgery at the minimum; Eric had not yet made his decision. “I love you, Eric, and I love what you're doing.” Z's encouragement was making Eric's choice easier.
Darren was in the kitchen finishing drying the dishes when Z came in to join him. “I'm almost done, Z. You don't need to help.”
“What's got into you? Buying groceries. Helping in the kitchen. You could have used the dishwasher.”
“I don't know very many ways to show you I'm glad to be your brother and live next door and have you looking out for me. Also I don't know how to operate the dishwasher.”
“What's brought this on? You don't owe me anything.”
“One of life's lessons, I guess. I'm trying to learn to show appreciation when people are nice to me. Plus I think somebody loves me.”
"Well, what's wrong with that?"
"It's complicated," Darren sighed.
Bradley knocked at the door of Room 212 and Daegan opened it. “Hi, I'm Bradley and Alex asked me to meet him here. Is it ok if I wait?”
“Come in,” Daegan invited.
“I'm Heiko. We saw you at the Zara show with Alex.” Heiko omitted any reference to the now infamous video. “You were good. Must have sold a bunch of those thongs.”
“You probably saw the video, too,” Bradley said, getting the subject out into the open.
“What video?” Heiko pretended ignorance, but that didn't work.
“I thought it was beautiful,” Daegan said. Heiko nodded.
Bradley was still nervous and said, “Thanks. Alex should be here any minute. I'll just read, if that's ok.”
In Room 211 Mario could not believe his luck. Both of them! In the next room! He hurried to put into place his plan which depended on Bradley and Alex walking past the door to his room. It was reasonable to assume they would. Passing his room was the logical way to leave the building. He resumed listening.
Within minutes Alex arrived and Bradley looked up from his book. Any idiot could see the love in his eyes when he saw Alex. Daegan and Heiko were not idiots. “Hey, everybody,” Alex greeted. “You've met Bradley?”
“Yes, and we approve,” Heiko said.
“Approve of what?” Alex asked. Without waiting for any elaboration from Heiko he said to Bradley, “Ready to go to the library?” Bradley nodded dumbly and rose to leave.
Mario readied himself.
“We'll go with you,” Daegan said. They all paused at the door to let an enormous guy who must have been a basketball player pass by in the hall.
The guy passed and looked at the door to Room 211; he saw the sign. “Scientific test! Please open door!” With a glance back to the foursome at the door of Room 212, he shrugged and opened the door.
Braced against the kind of stretch cords used to faster cargo to roof racks, Mario shot through the air out the door and into the arms of the very tall young man. He fell back against the opposite wall and then onto the floor with Mario on top of him. Mario was out cold.
The young man effortlessly picked up Mario and carried him into his room. “He's ok; he's waking up,” he told Daegan and closed the door. He knelt by the bed and looked at Mario.
Mario's eyes fluttered and then opened. “¿Eres tú mi ángel de la guarda?”
“Am I your what?”
“My guardian angel,” Mario translated.
“No, I'm LeJohn Griffin.”
“You look like an angel,” groggy Mario said, still not sure if he was awake.
LeJohn smiled. No one had told him anything like that since his grandmother got her new glasses.
Getting out of jail is like graduating from a repressive but predictable version of hell to utter chaos. First it feels good and then oddly it doesn't. Josh didn't want to go home, although that was an option. His parents would be welcoming in an I-told-you-so way; but he knew their reproaches would be constant. He went to his old apartment and found that Jordan had moved and somebody else lived there. A cheap hotel would be better than living in his car, but when you have little money and no job, no hotel is cheap enough. Roger's look-me-up offer seemed worth a try. He went to a public library and looked for motorcycle shops near the airport. Suzuki of Oakland on MacArthur was a place to start.
The head of the repair department had heard of Roger and had seen him once recently. “I have taken him on – he's that good a mechanic; but I didn't have an opening. Let me see if I still have the number he left. Hmmm … Here it is.”
Josh dialed the 510 area code number and got a recording. “If you want a Suzuki repaired, come to 2960 Main Street in Alameda. You'll find me. If you need a Kawasaki repaired, good luck.”
The address on Main was on the north end of the island near the old Navy Base. It was a nondescript building that had once been part of the Kaiser Shipyard. Most of the property had been converted into a winery that trucked in wholesale grapes to produce overpriced plonk. 2960 was a large building that had been subdivided into bays used by a variety of small industrial businesses. Over one bay was a hand drawn sign that depicted a cycle and read Mechanical Miracles. The interior was a surreal arrangement of motorcycle fragments and parts in an open area on the left. Tools and lubricants tended to be on the right. The only subdivision was a tarpaulin screening off a section in the rear.
“Roger?” Josh called out.
Roger emerged from behind the tarp. He bent Josh over the seat of the cleanest bike in the place, a GSX-R1000, and fucked him. Pulling his coveralls up, he said, “I heard you were out. I've been waiting.”
“I didn't know if you would ...”
“I missed you,” Roger said simply. “You want to eat something?” Josh nodded and they climbed on an older Katana 750. “Sit close. I want to feel your body against me.”
Josh put on a helmet and snuggled up to Roger, feeling the welcome warmth of a familiar human body. They ate in an inexpensive Vietnamese place on Webster. The food and service were as great as the price was cheap. After the first course, a one-way conversation began. Roger explained that the shop represented everything he had. Some of the parts were left over in his old garage; the consumable supplies represented his investment of almost every dime he had.
“I need to repair a few bikes so I can stock more parts. I have to ask for part payment before I can do any work and a lot of people don't want to pay in advance. It's hand to mouth right now. But things will get better. People know I do good work and working alone this way I can't get in fights with anybody.”
They mounted the bike for the ride back to the shop and Roger made another request. “Hold me around the waist? I like having you back there. That's right. Closer. Right up against my butt.”
When they got back to the shop, Roger fucked Josh again. They lay in a cot behind the tarp this time. When it was over, it was Josh's turn. As Josh entered Roger's ass, Roger pulled him close and kissed him. He gave him a real kiss for the first time ever and then repeated his earlier remark, “I missed you a lot.”
“Show me what you got” was Alex's prelude to disappointment. Bradley's first time fucking a guy revealed inexperience, insensitivity, and an physical ineptitude that went beyond what Alex expected based on Bradley's reputation with girls. He knew it would be quick, but he hadn't expected to be treated like part of the furniture.
“How did I do?” asked a proud and beaming Bradley when it was over. His cock was still hard.
“You look like you did fine. Your question should have been how I did? Did I like it? Did I cum?” Alex tried not to be too critical.
“Yes. Ok. How did you like it?” Alex didn't answer and they kissed a little until Bradley figured it out. “You saying it sucked, huh? And not in any kind of good way.” Alex still didn't say anything. “Damn. I so didn't want to suck at this. I wanted to be perfect for you, Alex. I love you.”
Alex smiled. He genuinely liked Bradley and found him appealingly sexy, but this love business had to stop. “You don't love me. You're just excited about discovering this new kind of sex that turned out to be really hot. That's what your feeling.” Alex could hear Gareth telling him almost the same thing not so long ago. “I don't want to hurt you; but that's what you're feeling.”
“I don't know what makes you the expert on what I'm feeling.” Bradley was very hurt both by his failure as a physical lover and by his rejection as a romantic one. The sopranos had never treated him with Alex's clinical detachment.
Alex offered him some hope. “The sex will get better if you want it to.”
“Tonight? … Please?” Bradley asked.
“I'll meet you after classes and we can see what my homework looks like. Meet me at Heiko's room, ok?”
Neil was running along the beach. He arrived early for the lacrosse scrimmage and took advantage of the time. Tim's remark about his weight stung and he was paying attention to his diet. Those tasty and always available doughnuts, he concluded, destroyed more policemen than criminals did. He saw Darren running ahead of him. He is incredibly good looking, Neil thought; and then he flushed from embarrassment at the thought. But I don't have any physical desire for him. It should be reasonable just to accept the fact he's probably the most handsome man I know. Except maybe Rory, he's hot, too; Tim's a lucky guy. And Z, he's almost a copy of Darren; and he and Eric are perfect together. And God damn it, there's nothing wrong with me thinking stuff like this. They're decent guys and that's all there is to it. He got to the park and joined Tim, Rory, and Darren. He did his best not to stare at Rory and Darren.
Fortunately Jerry was the next to arrive and had brought along some of the equipment ahead of Eric and Z. Neil was grateful for the excuse to move around, practicing passes with reliably heterosexual Jerry. And then he realized he had had more sex with Jerry in the room than with any one girl ever. Disturbing thoughts wouldn't go away.
“What's gotten into Neil?” Rory asked.
“I kidded him about gaining weight and I think he's a little self-conscious around hunks like you,” Tim said, winking at his lover. “He has lost a few pounds, though.”
Eric and Z arrived and Seth and Tom followed. “I wonder if the fact most of us are couples is bothering him,” Rory suggested to Tim and then asked Larry if he had heard from Cal.
Mark arrived and had brought Laurie with him. She had a special kiss for Eric, greeted her old friends and met some new ones. Jerry, the forthright Midwesterner, was immediately in awe and told her how pretty she looked. Naturally, she took a major liking to Jerry.
“That's a beautiful ring, Laurie. We were all happy to hear the good news,” Rory told her.
Laurie played goal tender and showed her skills to advantage; Cal wasn't the only one in her family with athletic ability. Her clingy jersey gave everyone a good idea of Mark's good fortune.
Laurie's participation inspired Neil to ask Jerry if maybe they should invite their nurse friends to join the game next time. It wouldn't hurt to butch things up a little, he thought to himself and then realized that before he met Andrew he had never heard the term 'butch up'. It's like I'm turning gay without the benefit of all the good sex, he thought and then his mind recoiled again. Good sex! My God! What am I thinking about? Preoccupied, he completely missed a pass from Jerry and cost his side a goal.
At the end of the game Neil went alone to meet some friends in San Leandro at a sports bar. He arrived first and waited at the bar sipping a Bud Lite and resisting the honey nuts. For the first time in his life that he knew of, he was hit on by a guy. The man sitting next to him opened with, “You're in good shape. What gym do you belong to?”
“We have a workout room where I work and I play in a pick up lacrosse game,” Neil responded. The guy checked him out again, looking up and down his body. Neil wasn't certain but he felt a clammy nagging and undeniable air of prurient interest in his questioner. Fortunately his friends arrived and he moved to their table putting the incident out of his mind.
After the game Mark and Laurie changed and then went to enjoy Z's cooking. They took along a champagne bottle and explained that it goes with everything. Z insisted that it didn't go with his version of spicy and acidic tuna, so they saved it for dessert. In between courses Mark pulled Eric aside and whispered that a certain Mexican company had paid ten thousand against his mortgage.
“We could lower the payments on the balance or just let it pay off early. Whatever you want,” Mark offered. “It was an electronic transfer from a big Mexican bank. Tony must be doing alright.”
Eric was surprised by how much the news of Tony's payment cheered him and the champagne was doubly welcome. “See? There you go,” Z told him later, “There's no reason to worry about money. We'll do fine. You won't have to keep working full time when you go back to school.”
“Z, it's only two night courses at Berkeley.”
“That's just this semester, Doctor.” Z knew and Eric knew what might lie ahead: three years of drudgery at the minimum; Eric had not yet made his decision. “I love you, Eric, and I love what you're doing.” Z's encouragement was making Eric's choice easier.
Darren was in the kitchen finishing drying the dishes when Z came in to join him. “I'm almost done, Z. You don't need to help.”
“What's got into you? Buying groceries. Helping in the kitchen. You could have used the dishwasher.”
“I don't know very many ways to show you I'm glad to be your brother and live next door and have you looking out for me. Also I don't know how to operate the dishwasher.”
“What's brought this on? You don't owe me anything.”
“One of life's lessons, I guess. I'm trying to learn to show appreciation when people are nice to me. Plus I think somebody loves me.”
"Well, what's wrong with that?"
"It's complicated," Darren sighed.
Bradley knocked at the door of Room 212 and Daegan opened it. “Hi, I'm Bradley and Alex asked me to meet him here. Is it ok if I wait?”
“Come in,” Daegan invited.
“I'm Heiko. We saw you at the Zara show with Alex.” Heiko omitted any reference to the now infamous video. “You were good. Must have sold a bunch of those thongs.”
“You probably saw the video, too,” Bradley said, getting the subject out into the open.
“What video?” Heiko pretended ignorance, but that didn't work.
“I thought it was beautiful,” Daegan said. Heiko nodded.
Bradley was still nervous and said, “Thanks. Alex should be here any minute. I'll just read, if that's ok.”
In Room 211 Mario could not believe his luck. Both of them! In the next room! He hurried to put into place his plan which depended on Bradley and Alex walking past the door to his room. It was reasonable to assume they would. Passing his room was the logical way to leave the building. He resumed listening.
Within minutes Alex arrived and Bradley looked up from his book. Any idiot could see the love in his eyes when he saw Alex. Daegan and Heiko were not idiots. “Hey, everybody,” Alex greeted. “You've met Bradley?”
“Yes, and we approve,” Heiko said.
“Approve of what?” Alex asked. Without waiting for any elaboration from Heiko he said to Bradley, “Ready to go to the library?” Bradley nodded dumbly and rose to leave.
Mario readied himself.
“We'll go with you,” Daegan said. They all paused at the door to let an enormous guy who must have been a basketball player pass by in the hall.
The guy passed and looked at the door to Room 211; he saw the sign. “Scientific test! Please open door!” With a glance back to the foursome at the door of Room 212, he shrugged and opened the door.
Braced against the kind of stretch cords used to faster cargo to roof racks, Mario shot through the air out the door and into the arms of the very tall young man. He fell back against the opposite wall and then onto the floor with Mario on top of him. Mario was out cold.
The young man effortlessly picked up Mario and carried him into his room. “He's ok; he's waking up,” he told Daegan and closed the door. He knelt by the bed and looked at Mario.
Mario's eyes fluttered and then opened. “¿Eres tú mi ángel de la guarda?”
“Am I your what?”
“My guardian angel,” Mario translated.
“No, I'm LeJohn Griffin.”
“You look like an angel,” groggy Mario said, still not sure if he was awake.
LeJohn smiled. No one had told him anything like that since his grandmother got her new glasses.
Rory,
It took all day for me to get a chance to read your chapter - but it was well worth it!
Thank you for continuing to share your literary skills with us.
I SO want to visit the gang.
It took all day for me to get a chance to read your chapter - but it was well worth it!
Thank you for continuing to share your literary skills with us.
I SO want to visit the gang.
EasyRory
JUB Addict
Session Sixty-Eight
The phone connection was very good. “Darren, it's Nicky.”
“Where are you? Should I meet Morrie somewhere?”
“New York ... I guess ... If you want ... We were both fired.”
“But … Where are you?”
“SFO. My company credit card is no good and this is as far as I could get on Morrie's ticket and the money I had. Flying in the back of the plane for most of a day sucks.”
“Welcome to the world. I'll be right there.”
The afternoon traffic on the San Mateo Bridge was the rush hour equivalent of the back of the plane. It sucked and 'right there” turned into an hour and ten minutes. What was worse, there was a huge crowd at the international arrivals building. Darren couldn't find Nicky amid all the exotic alien plumage as he slowly drove around the confusing roadways. On his third circle Nicky flagged him down.
Nicky was out of uniform. No more business suit. Aside from looking tired, he was a changed man. A touchingly young, very handsome, and very different person. Darren stopped and was again reminded of the Audi's impracticality. The trunk could barely contain Nicky's single bag.
“Out of the blue,” Nicky explained. “The call came in Singapore. Morrie was fired. The company wants to take a 'new direction' as they called it. Oh, by the way, tell Nicky he's fired, too, they said. They wouldn't even buy us a ticket home. Morrie bought me a ticket this far and went back to New York by himself.”
“Why didn't you go with him?”
“Why would I? Plus the situation was uncomfortable. He would still treat me like a half-employee, half-lover and I wouldn't get paid either way.”
“Half-lover?”
“Minus the sex part. He was very intimate in every other way. He would kiss me sometimes and talk about the days when we ...” Nicky didn't finish the sentence. He looked very vulnerable; Darren had never seen him at a loss. Nicky had always been in charge of every situation. Well, maybe not that day with the cow; but that was surprise, not vulnerability.
“What are you going to do?”
“I don't know,” Nicky said. “Beyond hoping there is an end to this gazillion mile long bridge we're on, I don't know.”
“You want to stay with two old ladies and me while you figure it out?”
“Oh man, I'd love to. I can't even think after that flight. A nap would be so great. A nap with you would be even better.”
“The old ladies aren't ready for that,” Darren chuckled.
After a brief introduction to Carolyn and Monica, Nicky went to bed in Seth's old room and slept from early evening until well into the next morning.
Josh completed his morning errand and returned to the motorcycle shop. Roger was working on the GSX-R1000; he looked up, smiled, and went back to installing new shocks. Josh took a closer look around the large jumbled work area. He cleared a space on a shelf and began pulling cans and jars of lubricants out of the chaos and putting them onto the shelf.
“What are you doing?”
“I'm organizing your stuff. You'll be able to work faster if you don't have to spend days searching for everything. Your genius is machinery. Mine is cataloging.” Josh went back to work; he decided for the moment that alphabetical order was as good as any. He felt Roger come up behind him and wondered if a sudden fuck was his immediate prospect. It turned out to be a hug and a kiss on the neck.
“Here. For you. Something else.” Josh fished into his pocket and pulled out a roll of bills and some coins, the result of his morning trip to the bank. “It's twenty-eight hundred fifty-three dollars and seventy cents. It's all I have, except my car. You can buy something you need for the shop.”
“Would it be ok if I make a list and you handle the buying? Rick at Oakland Suzuki is a source and then, if it doesn't have to be original, the usual auto parts places.” Roger wrote down a couple dozen items and went back to work. He listened to Josh on the phone and felt good about his decision.
“Rick, we're going to be a good, regular customer; but I need a better price than that. You should give me ten percent off just for paying cash. Ok, twelve, but when our volume goes over a couple thousand a month, it should be fifteen, at least.” Josh finished the call and marked four items off the list.
Roger called to him, “You're going to overanalyze everything aren't you?”
“Yes. That's me. I can't help it.”
Roger mumbled something.
“What?”
Roger yelled, “I said I love you.”
“Of course you do,” Josh said. “I had already figured that out. I love you, too ... Hello, is this Advance Auto Parts? Wholesale department? This is Josh at Mechanical Miracles in Alameda. I need prices on a few things ...”
At the end of the day Roger analyzed the situation. He was uncomfortable doing so. “You love me and you have given me everything you have?”
“Yes, but don't overanalyze it, Roger. It's not helpful.”
The next day in the shop, because doing it with the motorcycles was so sexy, Roger fucked Josh; but not that night, not the night their partnership began. That night he was pure unspoken love and Josh took every advantage.
Darren was numb. It was so unexpected. Rory announced that Tom would be going to Washington to open their Smithsonian project office. It was only a six-month assignment, but six months seemed like forever to someone Darren's age. He cornered Tom and spoke quietly.
“I like having you around. You always help me. I'm going to be lost without you.”
“Darren, thanks, I like working with you, too. But you don't need me any more. You're completely competent on your own with maybe a nickel's help from Rory and Cyril. Heiko and Jerry both like working for you ...”
“They work with me, not for me.”
“Are you kidding? You're the boss. There's no mistake about that. And you're good at it.”
“What about you and Seth?”
“That's going to need work. He's really great, but Andrew provided some kind of glue and it's not the same without him in the mix. Seth is … he's a dream lover, but he misses Andrew, too. They have a connection. Six months will answer a lot of questions, I think.”
“Does anybody mind if I kiss Tom good-bye?” Darren asked the office.
“I think we were all planning to do that,” Bernice said without looking up. Jerry looked slightly alarmed at the prospect, but not completely unwilling.
Mid-morning Nicky woke at last feeling better, almost completely refreshed. Bewilderment was still his state of mind, however; his abrupt termination had caught him completely unprepared. He thought back to his predecessor's advice about always keeping your resume up to date and wished he had followed it. Resume? He questioned himself. I was my boss's sex toy for a while and then cleaned up his old messes and helped him create new ones. I'm very good at that; but how many job openings call for that skill set?
“Good morning,” Carolyn greeted him. “You look a hundred percent better. Would you like a little breakfast? I have juice, toast, and coffee ready. Or would you like tea? Or maybe some schnapps to get the blood flowing again?” She offered the schnapps with comical gusto.
Nicky was charmed and answered a polite no to the schnapps and a grateful yes to the rest. He found Carolyn a perfect listener and poured out his tale, omitting only the juicy parts about Morrie and Darren. “So I hope you don't mind a stranger walking in on you. Darren was so great offering me your extra bed.”
Carolyn paused. “You're not a stranger any more.” She paused again, watching Nicky sip the coffee. “And you're in love with him … Darren, I mean,” she said.
Nicky froze and then saw the friendly, accepting smile. “Is it obvious?”
“Maybe to an old busybody like me. Probably not to others.”
“I've actually told Darren ... more or less; but he thinks I'm joking.”
“That's fine as long as he thinks you're laughing; it's not so good if he's the one laughing.”
“Carolyn, I don't think you're a busybody. Just way more perceptive than other people.”
Nicky's phone buzzed and Carolyn began clearing his dishes away. “Hello, Morrie?”
“Nicky, my sweet boy, are you in San Francisco?”
“Yes, I'm staying with Darren.”
“Good. How are you fixed?”
“Money you mean? Essentially penniless.” Moorie scoffed at that. “Ok, I've got some savings and the place in Rockaway is paid for.”
“Terrible time to have to sell. Although, Rockaway! Oy! Nicky, dear boy, I warned you.”
“It's not some bombed-out slum, Morrie. It's a decent working class neighborhood with a few rough edges and it's on the water. Park Avenue has a few rough edges, too, you know.” The unemployed Nicky let his annoyance show. “What are you going to do?” he asked Morrie without emotion.
“I have something arranged with American Eagle Outfitters. There's no room for you at the moment. Maybe in a few months. Their overhead budget is a lot lower than Zara's.”
“Are you moving to Pittsburgh?”
“Are you kidding? They have New York offices. They're cheap bastards; but they're not as narrow minded in Pittsburgh as the Spanish.” Morrie paused, “Sweet Nicky. You know I always love a little bit the people I've ever loved at all. That includes you. Darren, too … And Nicky?”
“What, Morrie?”
“Tell that boy you love him.”
“You knew, too?” Nicky was exasperated.
“Why do you think I kept throwing you two together? Of course I knew.”
“You're one of a kind, Morrie. I'll never forget you.”
“You bet you won't. There will be more. We're not done yet.” Morrie clicked off.
There were no complications at all in Room 211. From the minute Mario's eyes opened it was love at first sight, although it took a while for Mario and LeJohn to realize it. “You look like an angel,” made it all click. That one sentence spoke to both boys' sense of inadequacy and gave them an unbreakable bond.
Mario felt that his Central American ancestors had seriously short-changed him in the gene department. His lack of stature and looks, at least of the sort of looks currently considered handsome, overcame any positive thoughts he may have had about himself. There were many positives including very superior intelligence and a tautly fit body; but they were always overlooked in his own estimation. The sad part was they were often overlooked by others as well. Although his academic accomplishments were great, he hid his body under some of the least flattering clothes on the planet. Clothes don't make the man, but they improve on what he has made of himself. In Mario's case, the clothes were wasting their time.
LeJohn was the youngest of five brothers and was the butt of all their jokes, pranks, and needlings. The worst part of this treatment was another genetic shackle. LeJohn had a small penis. His brothers didn't. They never let him forget it. As a result, he was repressed sexually, afraid to expose himself to further ridicule by revealing his shortcoming to others. He was, however, a very agile and adept basketball player, good enough that no one felt a need to comment on his shyness in the locker room. His modest endowment was exposed, showered, and reclothed as quickly as possible. Mario's “You look like an angel” made his heart explode and the rest irrelevant.
LeJohn left Room 211 after he decided that Mario was awake, functioning, and uninjured; but he couldn't stay away. He returned a couple of hours later.
“I wanted to check on you. Make sure you're still ok. The coach is always warning us about the after effects of injuries.”
“I pretty sure I'm ok. I feel normal.”
“Was the scientific experiment a success?”
“Sort of. I guess I need to work on my weight calculation.”
“You speak Spanish? I'm having a time of it with my Spanish course.”
“Es possible que te puedo ayudar.”
It was indeed possible that Mario could help LeJohn. They never spoke English again.
They started with a child's game. This is my forehead. This is my nose. This is my ear. This is my elbow. “What is this?” LeJohn asked.
“This is my penis,” Mario giggled.
“That sounds medical. What do boys call it?” LeJohn asked and Mario rattled off the Spanish equivalents of cock, dick, peter, tally whacker, joy stick, baby maker, and so on. There are as many names in Spanish as in English. They proceeded to testiculos, cojones, huevos, and another dozen variants.
“Cum is an easy one” Mario explained. “It's leche. Ok, let's vary it. This is my eyebrow. That is your eyebrow.” He touched first his own eyebrow and then LeJohn's. LeJohn was embarrassed by the intimacy.
“Hispanic families are very touchy and affectionate,” Mario explained. “Parents are always fussing with their children. Lots of kisses. Nothing weird or kinky; we're just a lot more physical than Anglos are. Kisses between fathers and sons, or brothers are perfectly normal. Men especially are more demonstrative, at least within the family. With outsiders we are more formal, much more formal than the Anglos are.”
“Black women are touchy; men not so much. Am I an outsider?” LeJohn asked.
“No,” Mario laughed, “You will be my brother.”
“No,” LeJohn corrected him. “I'm your angel.”
Mario laughed and kissed him on the cheek. It was a brief kiss, just a peck really. “Now, back to the game. Your turn.”
“This is my knee. That is your knee.” LeJohn said touching first his own knee and then Mario's.
They covered a lot of body parts but never got around to 'this is my penis', although it occurred to both of them. Mario didn't want to risk alienating his wonderful new friend and LeJohn didn't want to draw any attention to his handicap.
“Good night, friend,” LeJohn said, saying amigo.”
“No, somos hermanos.” This time Mario supplied the correction. We are brothers.
After LeJohn left Mario heard Daegan and Heiko return to the room next door. He fell asleep without listening to them.
If he had listened he would have had a long wait for the first words. They went to bed quietly and turned the lights out. Minutes passed. They both lay awake feeling the ache. Heiko had made his choice known; Daegan would have to be the one to make the concession. He got up, dropped his boxers, and crossed to Heiko's bed. “I love you, Heiko,” he said as he crawled in.
They lay quietly, spoon fashion, not sure of what to do next. Daegan felt the warmth of Heiko's body up against his own. He took Heiko's hand and began sucking on his fingers in a very sensual way. He could feel Heiko's growing erection rising up against his ass.
It was Heiko's turn to compromise. “Roll over, Daegan. I'll give you a blow job,” he offered.
Daegan kissed a couple more fingers and licked Heiko's thumb. “I'm good, Heiko. Why don't you take advantage of what's available?”
Daegan came near to regretting his choice. It hurt. Heiko was a big young man and getting fucked by him hurt a lot. But Heiko was gentle, didn't go for full penetration, and told his lover beautiful things in a language Daegan didn't understand. Dispite the alien words, Heiko's meaning was unmistakable. Daegan felt loved and fulfilled and very sore. When it was over the pain diminished, but the love and the fulfillment remained.
“What changed your mind?” Heiko asked.
“You did. You mean as much to me as Alex does to Bradley.”
“So Alex and Bradley changed your mind.”
“No. They're just an example. You are the reason.”
The phone connection was very good. “Darren, it's Nicky.”
“Where are you? Should I meet Morrie somewhere?”
“New York ... I guess ... If you want ... We were both fired.”
“But … Where are you?”
“SFO. My company credit card is no good and this is as far as I could get on Morrie's ticket and the money I had. Flying in the back of the plane for most of a day sucks.”
“Welcome to the world. I'll be right there.”
The afternoon traffic on the San Mateo Bridge was the rush hour equivalent of the back of the plane. It sucked and 'right there” turned into an hour and ten minutes. What was worse, there was a huge crowd at the international arrivals building. Darren couldn't find Nicky amid all the exotic alien plumage as he slowly drove around the confusing roadways. On his third circle Nicky flagged him down.
Nicky was out of uniform. No more business suit. Aside from looking tired, he was a changed man. A touchingly young, very handsome, and very different person. Darren stopped and was again reminded of the Audi's impracticality. The trunk could barely contain Nicky's single bag.
“Out of the blue,” Nicky explained. “The call came in Singapore. Morrie was fired. The company wants to take a 'new direction' as they called it. Oh, by the way, tell Nicky he's fired, too, they said. They wouldn't even buy us a ticket home. Morrie bought me a ticket this far and went back to New York by himself.”
“Why didn't you go with him?”
“Why would I? Plus the situation was uncomfortable. He would still treat me like a half-employee, half-lover and I wouldn't get paid either way.”
“Half-lover?”
“Minus the sex part. He was very intimate in every other way. He would kiss me sometimes and talk about the days when we ...” Nicky didn't finish the sentence. He looked very vulnerable; Darren had never seen him at a loss. Nicky had always been in charge of every situation. Well, maybe not that day with the cow; but that was surprise, not vulnerability.
“What are you going to do?”
“I don't know,” Nicky said. “Beyond hoping there is an end to this gazillion mile long bridge we're on, I don't know.”
“You want to stay with two old ladies and me while you figure it out?”
“Oh man, I'd love to. I can't even think after that flight. A nap would be so great. A nap with you would be even better.”
“The old ladies aren't ready for that,” Darren chuckled.
After a brief introduction to Carolyn and Monica, Nicky went to bed in Seth's old room and slept from early evening until well into the next morning.
Josh completed his morning errand and returned to the motorcycle shop. Roger was working on the GSX-R1000; he looked up, smiled, and went back to installing new shocks. Josh took a closer look around the large jumbled work area. He cleared a space on a shelf and began pulling cans and jars of lubricants out of the chaos and putting them onto the shelf.
“What are you doing?”
“I'm organizing your stuff. You'll be able to work faster if you don't have to spend days searching for everything. Your genius is machinery. Mine is cataloging.” Josh went back to work; he decided for the moment that alphabetical order was as good as any. He felt Roger come up behind him and wondered if a sudden fuck was his immediate prospect. It turned out to be a hug and a kiss on the neck.
“Here. For you. Something else.” Josh fished into his pocket and pulled out a roll of bills and some coins, the result of his morning trip to the bank. “It's twenty-eight hundred fifty-three dollars and seventy cents. It's all I have, except my car. You can buy something you need for the shop.”
“Would it be ok if I make a list and you handle the buying? Rick at Oakland Suzuki is a source and then, if it doesn't have to be original, the usual auto parts places.” Roger wrote down a couple dozen items and went back to work. He listened to Josh on the phone and felt good about his decision.
“Rick, we're going to be a good, regular customer; but I need a better price than that. You should give me ten percent off just for paying cash. Ok, twelve, but when our volume goes over a couple thousand a month, it should be fifteen, at least.” Josh finished the call and marked four items off the list.
Roger called to him, “You're going to overanalyze everything aren't you?”
“Yes. That's me. I can't help it.”
Roger mumbled something.
“What?”
Roger yelled, “I said I love you.”
“Of course you do,” Josh said. “I had already figured that out. I love you, too ... Hello, is this Advance Auto Parts? Wholesale department? This is Josh at Mechanical Miracles in Alameda. I need prices on a few things ...”
At the end of the day Roger analyzed the situation. He was uncomfortable doing so. “You love me and you have given me everything you have?”
“Yes, but don't overanalyze it, Roger. It's not helpful.”
The next day in the shop, because doing it with the motorcycles was so sexy, Roger fucked Josh; but not that night, not the night their partnership began. That night he was pure unspoken love and Josh took every advantage.
Darren was numb. It was so unexpected. Rory announced that Tom would be going to Washington to open their Smithsonian project office. It was only a six-month assignment, but six months seemed like forever to someone Darren's age. He cornered Tom and spoke quietly.
“I like having you around. You always help me. I'm going to be lost without you.”
“Darren, thanks, I like working with you, too. But you don't need me any more. You're completely competent on your own with maybe a nickel's help from Rory and Cyril. Heiko and Jerry both like working for you ...”
“They work with me, not for me.”
“Are you kidding? You're the boss. There's no mistake about that. And you're good at it.”
“What about you and Seth?”
“That's going to need work. He's really great, but Andrew provided some kind of glue and it's not the same without him in the mix. Seth is … he's a dream lover, but he misses Andrew, too. They have a connection. Six months will answer a lot of questions, I think.”
“Does anybody mind if I kiss Tom good-bye?” Darren asked the office.
“I think we were all planning to do that,” Bernice said without looking up. Jerry looked slightly alarmed at the prospect, but not completely unwilling.
Mid-morning Nicky woke at last feeling better, almost completely refreshed. Bewilderment was still his state of mind, however; his abrupt termination had caught him completely unprepared. He thought back to his predecessor's advice about always keeping your resume up to date and wished he had followed it. Resume? He questioned himself. I was my boss's sex toy for a while and then cleaned up his old messes and helped him create new ones. I'm very good at that; but how many job openings call for that skill set?
“Good morning,” Carolyn greeted him. “You look a hundred percent better. Would you like a little breakfast? I have juice, toast, and coffee ready. Or would you like tea? Or maybe some schnapps to get the blood flowing again?” She offered the schnapps with comical gusto.
Nicky was charmed and answered a polite no to the schnapps and a grateful yes to the rest. He found Carolyn a perfect listener and poured out his tale, omitting only the juicy parts about Morrie and Darren. “So I hope you don't mind a stranger walking in on you. Darren was so great offering me your extra bed.”
Carolyn paused. “You're not a stranger any more.” She paused again, watching Nicky sip the coffee. “And you're in love with him … Darren, I mean,” she said.
Nicky froze and then saw the friendly, accepting smile. “Is it obvious?”
“Maybe to an old busybody like me. Probably not to others.”
“I've actually told Darren ... more or less; but he thinks I'm joking.”
“That's fine as long as he thinks you're laughing; it's not so good if he's the one laughing.”
“Carolyn, I don't think you're a busybody. Just way more perceptive than other people.”
Nicky's phone buzzed and Carolyn began clearing his dishes away. “Hello, Morrie?”
“Nicky, my sweet boy, are you in San Francisco?”
“Yes, I'm staying with Darren.”
“Good. How are you fixed?”
“Money you mean? Essentially penniless.” Moorie scoffed at that. “Ok, I've got some savings and the place in Rockaway is paid for.”
“Terrible time to have to sell. Although, Rockaway! Oy! Nicky, dear boy, I warned you.”
“It's not some bombed-out slum, Morrie. It's a decent working class neighborhood with a few rough edges and it's on the water. Park Avenue has a few rough edges, too, you know.” The unemployed Nicky let his annoyance show. “What are you going to do?” he asked Morrie without emotion.
“I have something arranged with American Eagle Outfitters. There's no room for you at the moment. Maybe in a few months. Their overhead budget is a lot lower than Zara's.”
“Are you moving to Pittsburgh?”
“Are you kidding? They have New York offices. They're cheap bastards; but they're not as narrow minded in Pittsburgh as the Spanish.” Morrie paused, “Sweet Nicky. You know I always love a little bit the people I've ever loved at all. That includes you. Darren, too … And Nicky?”
“What, Morrie?”
“Tell that boy you love him.”
“You knew, too?” Nicky was exasperated.
“Why do you think I kept throwing you two together? Of course I knew.”
“You're one of a kind, Morrie. I'll never forget you.”
“You bet you won't. There will be more. We're not done yet.” Morrie clicked off.
There were no complications at all in Room 211. From the minute Mario's eyes opened it was love at first sight, although it took a while for Mario and LeJohn to realize it. “You look like an angel,” made it all click. That one sentence spoke to both boys' sense of inadequacy and gave them an unbreakable bond.
Mario felt that his Central American ancestors had seriously short-changed him in the gene department. His lack of stature and looks, at least of the sort of looks currently considered handsome, overcame any positive thoughts he may have had about himself. There were many positives including very superior intelligence and a tautly fit body; but they were always overlooked in his own estimation. The sad part was they were often overlooked by others as well. Although his academic accomplishments were great, he hid his body under some of the least flattering clothes on the planet. Clothes don't make the man, but they improve on what he has made of himself. In Mario's case, the clothes were wasting their time.
LeJohn was the youngest of five brothers and was the butt of all their jokes, pranks, and needlings. The worst part of this treatment was another genetic shackle. LeJohn had a small penis. His brothers didn't. They never let him forget it. As a result, he was repressed sexually, afraid to expose himself to further ridicule by revealing his shortcoming to others. He was, however, a very agile and adept basketball player, good enough that no one felt a need to comment on his shyness in the locker room. His modest endowment was exposed, showered, and reclothed as quickly as possible. Mario's “You look like an angel” made his heart explode and the rest irrelevant.
LeJohn left Room 211 after he decided that Mario was awake, functioning, and uninjured; but he couldn't stay away. He returned a couple of hours later.
“I wanted to check on you. Make sure you're still ok. The coach is always warning us about the after effects of injuries.”
“I pretty sure I'm ok. I feel normal.”
“Was the scientific experiment a success?”
“Sort of. I guess I need to work on my weight calculation.”
“You speak Spanish? I'm having a time of it with my Spanish course.”
“Es possible que te puedo ayudar.”
It was indeed possible that Mario could help LeJohn. They never spoke English again.
They started with a child's game. This is my forehead. This is my nose. This is my ear. This is my elbow. “What is this?” LeJohn asked.
“This is my penis,” Mario giggled.
“That sounds medical. What do boys call it?” LeJohn asked and Mario rattled off the Spanish equivalents of cock, dick, peter, tally whacker, joy stick, baby maker, and so on. There are as many names in Spanish as in English. They proceeded to testiculos, cojones, huevos, and another dozen variants.
“Cum is an easy one” Mario explained. “It's leche. Ok, let's vary it. This is my eyebrow. That is your eyebrow.” He touched first his own eyebrow and then LeJohn's. LeJohn was embarrassed by the intimacy.
“Hispanic families are very touchy and affectionate,” Mario explained. “Parents are always fussing with their children. Lots of kisses. Nothing weird or kinky; we're just a lot more physical than Anglos are. Kisses between fathers and sons, or brothers are perfectly normal. Men especially are more demonstrative, at least within the family. With outsiders we are more formal, much more formal than the Anglos are.”
“Black women are touchy; men not so much. Am I an outsider?” LeJohn asked.
“No,” Mario laughed, “You will be my brother.”
“No,” LeJohn corrected him. “I'm your angel.”
Mario laughed and kissed him on the cheek. It was a brief kiss, just a peck really. “Now, back to the game. Your turn.”
“This is my knee. That is your knee.” LeJohn said touching first his own knee and then Mario's.
They covered a lot of body parts but never got around to 'this is my penis', although it occurred to both of them. Mario didn't want to risk alienating his wonderful new friend and LeJohn didn't want to draw any attention to his handicap.
“Good night, friend,” LeJohn said, saying amigo.”
“No, somos hermanos.” This time Mario supplied the correction. We are brothers.
After LeJohn left Mario heard Daegan and Heiko return to the room next door. He fell asleep without listening to them.
If he had listened he would have had a long wait for the first words. They went to bed quietly and turned the lights out. Minutes passed. They both lay awake feeling the ache. Heiko had made his choice known; Daegan would have to be the one to make the concession. He got up, dropped his boxers, and crossed to Heiko's bed. “I love you, Heiko,” he said as he crawled in.
They lay quietly, spoon fashion, not sure of what to do next. Daegan felt the warmth of Heiko's body up against his own. He took Heiko's hand and began sucking on his fingers in a very sensual way. He could feel Heiko's growing erection rising up against his ass.
It was Heiko's turn to compromise. “Roll over, Daegan. I'll give you a blow job,” he offered.
Daegan kissed a couple more fingers and licked Heiko's thumb. “I'm good, Heiko. Why don't you take advantage of what's available?”
Daegan came near to regretting his choice. It hurt. Heiko was a big young man and getting fucked by him hurt a lot. But Heiko was gentle, didn't go for full penetration, and told his lover beautiful things in a language Daegan didn't understand. Dispite the alien words, Heiko's meaning was unmistakable. Daegan felt loved and fulfilled and very sore. When it was over the pain diminished, but the love and the fulfillment remained.
“What changed your mind?” Heiko asked.
“You did. You mean as much to me as Alex does to Bradley.”
“So Alex and Bradley changed your mind.”
“No. They're just an example. You are the reason.”
Rory,
I agree w/ Rocabar. It was a crashing espisode - the Spaniards not even paying for their trips home - that's rough. Zara didn't like the image that was being portrayed? They didn't like the revenue they were generating?
AEO, instead, eh? And Nicky is in Alameda, able to explore the relationship and love that he really wants.
Meanwhile, back at the office - Tom is headed East for six months.
The dynamics are all getting mixed up, again - you're good at that, lol. But, life is, too.
Thanks, Rory.
I agree w/ Rocabar. It was a crashing espisode - the Spaniards not even paying for their trips home - that's rough. Zara didn't like the image that was being portrayed? They didn't like the revenue they were generating?
AEO, instead, eh? And Nicky is in Alameda, able to explore the relationship and love that he really wants.
Meanwhile, back at the office - Tom is headed East for six months.
The dynamics are all getting mixed up, again - you're good at that, lol. But, life is, too.
Thanks, Rory.
EasyRory
JUB Addict
Session Sixty-Nine
Alex was at a loss for what to do about Bradley. The sex was great but he was not feeling the love. At least, he wasn't feeling as much as Bradley was. Alex wondered if the old joke was coming true, that Bradley would follow him for life with a mattress strapped to his back. Alex was looking for a way to end things, but the sex … oh my, the sex was very good.
Bradley did not share and was not even aware of Alex's perceptions. The few times a week he and Alex got together were magic, of course; the sex was spectacular. It did bother him that he kept telling Alex of his love without any reciprocity, but he couldn't help it. When you've just come so hard you can't walk straight, what else are you going to say?
To Bradley's surprise, the video didn't hurt his reputation with the sopranos at all. In fact, they were more than eager to resample the goods. His experiences with Alex had given him some understanding of sex from a woman's point of view and his performance was far better than it had been. If anything, his reputation was enhanced among the cognoscenti. 'Bradley goes where others only come' was the whisper. Nobody was exactly sure what that meant, but it sounded clever and gave a hint of oral pleasures. In fact, Bradley wasn't much of an oral artist, but he had become a very good fucker; so it balanced out. Even some of the more masculine altos were starting to think that a walk on the wild side with Bradley might not be a bad way to spend an idle evening.
Most amazingly, in Andrew's clever hands the notorious sex video was producing a stream of income. There was no question that Bradley could support himself for his last semester as an undergraduate. 'Bad Brad the Stanford Grad', briefly at risk, was about to become fact.
Alex considered the circumstances. Bradley is smart … and funny, too. He can always make me laugh. And he's good looking. He has never neglected being my academic mentor. He's not a pest; he's really very sweet. It's just that … that … that we keep replaying the damn video. Scene for scene. Not the way it was shot. The way it was edited. He wants to relive something that never happened. Over and over. And somewhere along the way, maybe once a semester, I'd like to get fucked for a change.
Boring into Bradley was becoming just plain boring. Can the exquisite really be boring? Wittgenstein probably has an answer, Alex thought, reaching for his text while he waited for Bradley's arrival. The text seemed to suggest that it would be Alex who was boring, not the exquisite Bradley. Well, that sucks, thought Alex.
Bradley interrupted further contemplation. “Heiko and Daegan want to go skydiving.”
“Right now? At night?”
“Flashlights.” Bradley supplied the concept and waited a beat or two. “No, not now. Saturday. You want to?” Without pausing, Bradley scooped Alex up and kissed him breathless. “Is your roommate gone for long?” Bradley asked as he opened one of Alex's buttons.
“My poor roommate is afraid to set foot in his own room. He's afraid I'll make a video with him in it.”
Speaking of videos, have you talked to Andrew?” Alex shook his head and Bradley continued. “He has an idea that we should make another one.” Bradley had Alex's shirt almost off and paused to lick a nipple. “He thinks I should do the fucking this time. Chris can use stuff he's already shot for most of the set up. We'd only have to shoot the actual sex. Think you could handle it? Want to practice?”
Darren got home and found Nicky entertaining Carolyn and Monica in the kitchen. The room smelled marvelous. He was making Braciole a la Jersey City, as he called it.
“Z will be envious. He almost burned their house down trying to make that. He threw the pan away.” Darren giggled at the memory of one of Z's very rare failures.
“Why don't we invite them for dinner?” Carolyn asked.
“And Rory and Tim?” Darren suggested.
“If you've got the plates, I've got the beef,” Nicky said to Carolyn.
“Dinner for eight! I haven't done that in years! Yes, let's!” Carolyn and Monica busied themselves with dishes, silver, and crystal.
“I'm almost done cooking; then it has to sit for a couple hours. Then I warm it up, zap the pasta and we eat.”
“That leaves time for some lacrosse,” Darren said.
“Carolyn, Monica, all you're allowed to do is set the table and sip a schnapps. Darren and I will do the rest. All the rest. Do not lift a finger. Ok?” Carolyn and Monica became permanent members of Nicky's fan club.
With the braciole resting, Nicky and Darren went to change and Monica sighed, “Why couldn't my husbands have been like him? A little bit like him? Even a teeny, tiny bit like him?”
Carolyn smiled, then chuckled, and then laughed, wondering where she had put the silver polish since she last used it a hundred years ago. “Eric's a lot like him, Monica.”
Seth was no more prepared for Tom's move to Washington than Darren had been and Seth had a lot more at stake. “I know it hasn't been the same since Andrew left, but I do love you, Tom.” It was only four in the afternoon, but they were lying in bed wrapped up in each other.
“I know you do. I can feel it whenever we're together like this. I love you, too, baby. I want to keep your cock hard. I want to make you come. I love it when you come.”
“Then love me, stay with me. Please don't go.” Seth's hot tears mixed with his kisses and his legs wrapped possessively around Tom.
“I'll come back. You can visit. Six months isn't forever.” Tom's words were no consolation to Seth. Their physical union had a bittersweet flavor that made the coming separation harder to face. “We're going to spend the whole night making love like this. It will be at least two months before you know I'm gone.”
In fact they only spent an hour in bed. They needed a temporary change of scene and their energy expenditure on the lacrosse field helped dull the pain of Tom's pending departure. Seth knew he was not going to talk Tom out of going, but he had to try. Deep inside there was some detached part of Seth that enjoyed both watching and playing in the drama of their breakup. It hurt but a big part of the hurt was the uncertainty resulting from the end of something comfortably and familiar. Andrew will understand when I tell him, even if I can't explain it, Seth thought. And who ... I mean wow! … Who is that beautiful guy Darren brought today?
That pretty much echoed Neil's thoughts. Where do all these guys come from? he wondered, one better looking than the next. He noticed that a small group of people had begun gathering regularly to watch their play. There aren't that many lacrosse fans in the whole fucking state. I know what they're looking at, he decided. Rory came up to Neil to whisper some strategy and their bodies brushed in casual intimacy. Neil could see some of the crowd gulp in envy; the poor devils should be so lucky. Neil's play was exceptionally good that day. He enjoyed knowing he was putting on a little show for the small but appreciative audience. What the hell? I doesn't hurt me and it's a cheap thrill for a few folks, he told himself.
At the conclusion of play, Neil and Jerry left to meet their nurses and Seth and Tom left to resume their farewell fucking. The rest of the crowd went home to change for dinner with Carolyn and Monica. The dinner was a great success.
Z envied Nicky's skill with the braciole and said he wanted to watch the next time he made it. Eric was fun and funny and made his mother proud. Carolyn enjoyed her schnapps and Monica enjoyed not drinking anything. Darren played attentive host and felt completely relaxed in a very rare way. Tim recounted the murder wrap up and Rory explained Tom's Washington plans. Nicky seemed to say nothing and yet was everybody's favorite new friend. When it was over the guests went happily home while Nicky and Darren cleaned up. With the last wine glass and silver spoon dried and put away, they sighed and needed another shower.
“I smell like tomato sauce,” Nicky laughed.
“Not a bad smell at all,” Darren answered.
Wearing just towels, they met in the bathroom as Nicky finished his shower and Darren prepared for his. “Thanks for letting me stay,” Nicky said. He kissed Darren with considerably more than his usual fraternal affection and went to his room.
Other couples on the island speculated. “Nicky is crazy about Darren,” Tim told Rory. “I don't want the boys to hear but I hope Nicky's heart doesn't get broken,” Monica whispered to Carolyn as they headed to their rooms. “Your brother has a huge fan,” Eric said to Z.
Rory, Carolyn, and Z nodded in agreement.
Larry missed the dinner because he was in Boise, watching the Cleveland Gladiators practice. He wore a Raiders hat, but figured nobody would care. “What do you think of the left side of the offensive line?” he asked another spectator on the fence.
“Coming along. I've been concentrating on the backs.”
“I don't think those guys recognize the value of patterns. The right side does, but not the left. I think playing patterns could make up for their lack of size.”
“Good observation. Do you follow the team?”
“One of the backs and I helped coach a high school team last season. I'm just here to cheer for him.”
“Which one?”
“Cal Rockridge.”
They lasped into silence and continued to watch. “See,” Larry burst out, unable to contain himself. “The left tackle is playing all alone.”
“Nice catch. I see what you mean.”
“You're a fan, too?” Larry asked.
“I'm the owner,” the other man answered.
“Oh, shit,” Larry groaned. “Me and my big mouth.”
“You know, it's good to hear from somebody I'm not paying to kiss my ass. Especially since your observation was correct.”
Cal came out of the locker room after practice. His eyes bugged out when he saw Larry chatting with the owner as if they were old friends. “Larry! Er, good evening, sir,” he said to the pair.
“What are you doing?” Cal asked when the owner left. “He wants you to sit with him tomorrow?”
“Yes, he said he likes talking to people he doesn't pay. We chatted a bit about the offensive line. And then he said ... ”
“That's my Larry,” Cal grinned and eagerly pulled Larry along the corridor until they found a niche. He grabbed his chatty lover and embraced him hard enough to hear his spine pop like knuckles being cracked. He looked into his eyes and his grin got bigger and bigger. Then he gently took Larry face into his hands and kissed him. “We better get a room, huh?” Cal proposed. Larry tried to catch his breath. “Fortunately, I already have a room,” Cal continued. “If we run, we can get there quicker. Come on.”
It was a four-block foot race to Cal's room. They were both winded. It didn't matter. They were naked in a flash and hugging so hard they might have shared a single body. Larry knew Cal's preference for abstinence the night before games so he asked, “ You want to wait until tomorrow?”
“Nooooo, it's still the afternoon,” Cal said. He pinned his lover to the bed and began making love to every inch of him. After a brief you-fuck-me-first duel, Larry lay on his back and welcomed the complete attention of his beautiful running back lover. “You've lost weight!” he remarked.
“They were trying me as a power back, but now they want to see if I can trade a few pounds for more speed.”
“Oh, baby ...” Larry sighed. “That's the same cock. You feel just right. In me. On me. Over me. Part of me. Always. Always. Fuck me. Cal, fuck me.” The rhythm of Larry's speech matched Cal's thrusts.
“Sweet Larry.” Cal exploded with a series of bursts was sad when it was over. “I already miss you and you're not even gone. I hate these separations, Larry. I want you all the time.”
“Don't get all gloomy. For the next forty-eight hours, you have me all the time. Let's not waste it.”
“I'm sorry. Just seeing you today gave me such a lift. I don't want to be some Debbie Downer. You're right; we have two more nights.” Cal snuggled up to Larry so that they enjoyed maximum skin contact with as many parts touching as possible.
“How can I catch you up on the gossip if you keep kissing me?” Larry asked. “There. That's bett … mmmffgh.” Larry decided kissing was much better than Alameda gossip; but eventually he squeezed in, “Your sister's going to marry Mark.”
That stopped Cal. “Really? She didn't call.” The more he thought about it the better he liked the idea. “Mark. Well, that's great. Do they know when?”
“I don't think so. They talked about waiting until after your season is over. Maybe that's why she hasn't called you yet.”
Cal resumed kissing select parts of Larry eventually getting to his cock. Cal was a good cocksucker and soon had Larry panting hard, right on the verge. He stopped, “We could call her!”
“Cal, focus! I'm really close.”
Cal grinned and changed focus again, kissing Larry on the lips, ignoring his pulsing cock. “How close? Tell me how close?”
“Cal! Jeez!” After one more kiss, Cal got down to business and soon had Larry squirming and pumping his hips as he filled his mouth with come.
“Mmmm, my protein shake.”
“You're so unpredictable,” Larry panted trying to keep Cal off his cock which was always super sensitive right after orgasm.
“You love it.”
“Yes, but you will pay.” Larry grabbed Cal's ass and Cal sighed. He loved Larry's method of making him pay. It didn't happen right away though; it happened after the pizza.
Cal had had a long day at practice and Larry a long day traveling. With both of them full and getting tired, the payment was demanded by Larry and rendered by Cal and at ten o'clock they fell asleep holding each other. They had grown used to sleeping alone and soon separated in the bed, lying side by side. Still later, without fully waking up, they got back together and shared a kiss before sleeping soundly.
Larry woke first holding Cal's hand against his chest. He looked at his sleeping lover and wanted to kiss him. He restrained himself and let Cal sleep, but he couldn't leave him completely alone. He drew back the sheet and blew lightly on Cal's cock until it rose up hard. That put a smile on Cal's face; he stirred and gave a quiet groan. Larry backed away. “I hope you're dreaming of me, you beautiful man” he whispered as he went for a shower.
LeJohn was doing more than dreaming about Mario. He was hugging him and wouldn't let go. If asked, Mario would admit that he wasn't struggling very hard, but LeJohn was determined. The problem was he didn't know what to do next. LeJohn wanted to do more but the idea of gay sex never occurred to him.
There is a real homophobia among many American black men. One psychologist theorized that it developed in the days of slavery because there had been no equivalent social taboo in the native cultures of West Africa before arrival of the 19th century Christian missionaries. The years of American slavery represented a time when black family stability was almost meaningless and men often outnumbered available women by large numbers. It was theorized that in those circumstances homosexuality was inevitable and fairly widespread in a large portion of the male slave population, but it was an act of desperation, furtive and denied by the participants. This practiced aversion continued to the present day.
LeJohn had never thought of himself as homosexual. His sense of repression created an asexuality behind which he avoided the entire issue of sex. In his own head he was straight, although he had never pursued contact with women. At the same time he had never been tempted by men. He masturbated no more than was necessary to stay sane and fantasized about masturbation while doing so. At the moment all he knew was Mario was a wiggling bundle of human warmth and it was fun to hold him while he struggled.
Finally Mario stopped struggling and LeJohn stopped hugging. The wrestling had started over a pack of Spanish vocabulary flash cards Mario had made. LeJohn was tired of the Spanish lesson and grabbed the cards. Mario wanted them back. The erotic appeal of the ensuing struggle was lost on LeJohn but very apparent to Mario. He stopped struggling when he became afraid his erection would be obvious.
“Ok,” Mario said, “No more Spanish lessons today.”
“Good,” LeJohn answered. His Spanish was becoming much better than his one word answer would indicate. “I have basketball practice anyway.”
“Later, my brother,” Mario said and bent forward to give LeJohn a now customary kiss on the cheek. It landed on LeJohn's mouth. Soft full lips on soft full lips. Mario pulled back and tried to be off hand.
“Do brothers kiss on the lips?” Le John asked.
“Sometimes. Not usually,” Mario answered and they made no more of it.
Over the next hour, Mario tortured himself. I was so clumsy. Why did I have to do that? Did he kiss me back a little? I think I could feel him kiss me back a little. No. I must be dreaming. He would never do that. He's almost an Anglo. I'll be lucky to ever see him again. Stupid.
LeJohn didn't torture himself at all. What a great custom, he thought. We should all do that. He could still feel the light pressure of Mario's lips on his own. After practice he went back to Mario's room and knocked. Mario answered the door and got a light kiss hello from LeJohn. On the lips.
“Want to go to dinner?”
Mario was ready instantly and they walked to the student cafeteria together. Mario at five feet five inches and LeJohn at six feet seven drew a lot of looks. Their height difference was huge and comical to some; but the boys were wrapped up in their Spanish conversation talking about their favorite foods and didn't notice the attention they drew. Mario did notice LeJohn's beautiful amber-colored eyes and LeJohn noticed how Mario's cheerfulness shined in his expression, something he never saw in his brothers. As they waked back they came to LeJohn's dorm first. With both standing, a kiss was impossible. A touch on Mario's shoulder and a date for the next Spanish lesson was the best LeJohn could do.
Mario walked the rest of the way daydreaming of his friend. He walked right into Alex who was on his way to see Daegan and Heiko about skydiving.
“You're the guy who shot out of the door the other day.”
“Did you see that?”
“It was amazing. If you worked on your form a little, you'd look like a superhero,” Alex joked. “I'm Alex.”
“I know,” Mario answered.
“Oh ... You've seen the video too?” Alex had learned to be wary of people's reactions.
“Forget I said that. I'm Mario.”
“I'm thinking of going skydiving with the guys who live next door to you. Maybe you can give us some tips on landing,” Alex joked.
“Tip one. Arrange for LeJohn to catch you.”
Alex gave Mario a big grin, a very winning look that was melting hearts these days.
Mario took in the look. He recalled his repeated viewings of the video that had left him with his tongue hanging out. He could easily picture Alex naked, but there wasn't much of a choice. LeJohn is so much hotter, he decided.
Alex was at a loss for what to do about Bradley. The sex was great but he was not feeling the love. At least, he wasn't feeling as much as Bradley was. Alex wondered if the old joke was coming true, that Bradley would follow him for life with a mattress strapped to his back. Alex was looking for a way to end things, but the sex … oh my, the sex was very good.
Bradley did not share and was not even aware of Alex's perceptions. The few times a week he and Alex got together were magic, of course; the sex was spectacular. It did bother him that he kept telling Alex of his love without any reciprocity, but he couldn't help it. When you've just come so hard you can't walk straight, what else are you going to say?
To Bradley's surprise, the video didn't hurt his reputation with the sopranos at all. In fact, they were more than eager to resample the goods. His experiences with Alex had given him some understanding of sex from a woman's point of view and his performance was far better than it had been. If anything, his reputation was enhanced among the cognoscenti. 'Bradley goes where others only come' was the whisper. Nobody was exactly sure what that meant, but it sounded clever and gave a hint of oral pleasures. In fact, Bradley wasn't much of an oral artist, but he had become a very good fucker; so it balanced out. Even some of the more masculine altos were starting to think that a walk on the wild side with Bradley might not be a bad way to spend an idle evening.
Most amazingly, in Andrew's clever hands the notorious sex video was producing a stream of income. There was no question that Bradley could support himself for his last semester as an undergraduate. 'Bad Brad the Stanford Grad', briefly at risk, was about to become fact.
Alex considered the circumstances. Bradley is smart … and funny, too. He can always make me laugh. And he's good looking. He has never neglected being my academic mentor. He's not a pest; he's really very sweet. It's just that … that … that we keep replaying the damn video. Scene for scene. Not the way it was shot. The way it was edited. He wants to relive something that never happened. Over and over. And somewhere along the way, maybe once a semester, I'd like to get fucked for a change.
Boring into Bradley was becoming just plain boring. Can the exquisite really be boring? Wittgenstein probably has an answer, Alex thought, reaching for his text while he waited for Bradley's arrival. The text seemed to suggest that it would be Alex who was boring, not the exquisite Bradley. Well, that sucks, thought Alex.
Bradley interrupted further contemplation. “Heiko and Daegan want to go skydiving.”
“Right now? At night?”
“Flashlights.” Bradley supplied the concept and waited a beat or two. “No, not now. Saturday. You want to?” Without pausing, Bradley scooped Alex up and kissed him breathless. “Is your roommate gone for long?” Bradley asked as he opened one of Alex's buttons.
“My poor roommate is afraid to set foot in his own room. He's afraid I'll make a video with him in it.”
Speaking of videos, have you talked to Andrew?” Alex shook his head and Bradley continued. “He has an idea that we should make another one.” Bradley had Alex's shirt almost off and paused to lick a nipple. “He thinks I should do the fucking this time. Chris can use stuff he's already shot for most of the set up. We'd only have to shoot the actual sex. Think you could handle it? Want to practice?”
Darren got home and found Nicky entertaining Carolyn and Monica in the kitchen. The room smelled marvelous. He was making Braciole a la Jersey City, as he called it.
“Z will be envious. He almost burned their house down trying to make that. He threw the pan away.” Darren giggled at the memory of one of Z's very rare failures.
“Why don't we invite them for dinner?” Carolyn asked.
“And Rory and Tim?” Darren suggested.
“If you've got the plates, I've got the beef,” Nicky said to Carolyn.
“Dinner for eight! I haven't done that in years! Yes, let's!” Carolyn and Monica busied themselves with dishes, silver, and crystal.
“I'm almost done cooking; then it has to sit for a couple hours. Then I warm it up, zap the pasta and we eat.”
“That leaves time for some lacrosse,” Darren said.
“Carolyn, Monica, all you're allowed to do is set the table and sip a schnapps. Darren and I will do the rest. All the rest. Do not lift a finger. Ok?” Carolyn and Monica became permanent members of Nicky's fan club.
With the braciole resting, Nicky and Darren went to change and Monica sighed, “Why couldn't my husbands have been like him? A little bit like him? Even a teeny, tiny bit like him?”
Carolyn smiled, then chuckled, and then laughed, wondering where she had put the silver polish since she last used it a hundred years ago. “Eric's a lot like him, Monica.”
Seth was no more prepared for Tom's move to Washington than Darren had been and Seth had a lot more at stake. “I know it hasn't been the same since Andrew left, but I do love you, Tom.” It was only four in the afternoon, but they were lying in bed wrapped up in each other.
“I know you do. I can feel it whenever we're together like this. I love you, too, baby. I want to keep your cock hard. I want to make you come. I love it when you come.”
“Then love me, stay with me. Please don't go.” Seth's hot tears mixed with his kisses and his legs wrapped possessively around Tom.
“I'll come back. You can visit. Six months isn't forever.” Tom's words were no consolation to Seth. Their physical union had a bittersweet flavor that made the coming separation harder to face. “We're going to spend the whole night making love like this. It will be at least two months before you know I'm gone.”
In fact they only spent an hour in bed. They needed a temporary change of scene and their energy expenditure on the lacrosse field helped dull the pain of Tom's pending departure. Seth knew he was not going to talk Tom out of going, but he had to try. Deep inside there was some detached part of Seth that enjoyed both watching and playing in the drama of their breakup. It hurt but a big part of the hurt was the uncertainty resulting from the end of something comfortably and familiar. Andrew will understand when I tell him, even if I can't explain it, Seth thought. And who ... I mean wow! … Who is that beautiful guy Darren brought today?
That pretty much echoed Neil's thoughts. Where do all these guys come from? he wondered, one better looking than the next. He noticed that a small group of people had begun gathering regularly to watch their play. There aren't that many lacrosse fans in the whole fucking state. I know what they're looking at, he decided. Rory came up to Neil to whisper some strategy and their bodies brushed in casual intimacy. Neil could see some of the crowd gulp in envy; the poor devils should be so lucky. Neil's play was exceptionally good that day. He enjoyed knowing he was putting on a little show for the small but appreciative audience. What the hell? I doesn't hurt me and it's a cheap thrill for a few folks, he told himself.
At the conclusion of play, Neil and Jerry left to meet their nurses and Seth and Tom left to resume their farewell fucking. The rest of the crowd went home to change for dinner with Carolyn and Monica. The dinner was a great success.
Z envied Nicky's skill with the braciole and said he wanted to watch the next time he made it. Eric was fun and funny and made his mother proud. Carolyn enjoyed her schnapps and Monica enjoyed not drinking anything. Darren played attentive host and felt completely relaxed in a very rare way. Tim recounted the murder wrap up and Rory explained Tom's Washington plans. Nicky seemed to say nothing and yet was everybody's favorite new friend. When it was over the guests went happily home while Nicky and Darren cleaned up. With the last wine glass and silver spoon dried and put away, they sighed and needed another shower.
“I smell like tomato sauce,” Nicky laughed.
“Not a bad smell at all,” Darren answered.
Wearing just towels, they met in the bathroom as Nicky finished his shower and Darren prepared for his. “Thanks for letting me stay,” Nicky said. He kissed Darren with considerably more than his usual fraternal affection and went to his room.
Other couples on the island speculated. “Nicky is crazy about Darren,” Tim told Rory. “I don't want the boys to hear but I hope Nicky's heart doesn't get broken,” Monica whispered to Carolyn as they headed to their rooms. “Your brother has a huge fan,” Eric said to Z.
Rory, Carolyn, and Z nodded in agreement.
Larry missed the dinner because he was in Boise, watching the Cleveland Gladiators practice. He wore a Raiders hat, but figured nobody would care. “What do you think of the left side of the offensive line?” he asked another spectator on the fence.
“Coming along. I've been concentrating on the backs.”
“I don't think those guys recognize the value of patterns. The right side does, but not the left. I think playing patterns could make up for their lack of size.”
“Good observation. Do you follow the team?”
“One of the backs and I helped coach a high school team last season. I'm just here to cheer for him.”
“Which one?”
“Cal Rockridge.”
They lasped into silence and continued to watch. “See,” Larry burst out, unable to contain himself. “The left tackle is playing all alone.”
“Nice catch. I see what you mean.”
“You're a fan, too?” Larry asked.
“I'm the owner,” the other man answered.
“Oh, shit,” Larry groaned. “Me and my big mouth.”
“You know, it's good to hear from somebody I'm not paying to kiss my ass. Especially since your observation was correct.”
Cal came out of the locker room after practice. His eyes bugged out when he saw Larry chatting with the owner as if they were old friends. “Larry! Er, good evening, sir,” he said to the pair.
“What are you doing?” Cal asked when the owner left. “He wants you to sit with him tomorrow?”
“Yes, he said he likes talking to people he doesn't pay. We chatted a bit about the offensive line. And then he said ... ”
“That's my Larry,” Cal grinned and eagerly pulled Larry along the corridor until they found a niche. He grabbed his chatty lover and embraced him hard enough to hear his spine pop like knuckles being cracked. He looked into his eyes and his grin got bigger and bigger. Then he gently took Larry face into his hands and kissed him. “We better get a room, huh?” Cal proposed. Larry tried to catch his breath. “Fortunately, I already have a room,” Cal continued. “If we run, we can get there quicker. Come on.”
It was a four-block foot race to Cal's room. They were both winded. It didn't matter. They were naked in a flash and hugging so hard they might have shared a single body. Larry knew Cal's preference for abstinence the night before games so he asked, “ You want to wait until tomorrow?”
“Nooooo, it's still the afternoon,” Cal said. He pinned his lover to the bed and began making love to every inch of him. After a brief you-fuck-me-first duel, Larry lay on his back and welcomed the complete attention of his beautiful running back lover. “You've lost weight!” he remarked.
“They were trying me as a power back, but now they want to see if I can trade a few pounds for more speed.”
“Oh, baby ...” Larry sighed. “That's the same cock. You feel just right. In me. On me. Over me. Part of me. Always. Always. Fuck me. Cal, fuck me.” The rhythm of Larry's speech matched Cal's thrusts.
“Sweet Larry.” Cal exploded with a series of bursts was sad when it was over. “I already miss you and you're not even gone. I hate these separations, Larry. I want you all the time.”
“Don't get all gloomy. For the next forty-eight hours, you have me all the time. Let's not waste it.”
“I'm sorry. Just seeing you today gave me such a lift. I don't want to be some Debbie Downer. You're right; we have two more nights.” Cal snuggled up to Larry so that they enjoyed maximum skin contact with as many parts touching as possible.
“How can I catch you up on the gossip if you keep kissing me?” Larry asked. “There. That's bett … mmmffgh.” Larry decided kissing was much better than Alameda gossip; but eventually he squeezed in, “Your sister's going to marry Mark.”
That stopped Cal. “Really? She didn't call.” The more he thought about it the better he liked the idea. “Mark. Well, that's great. Do they know when?”
“I don't think so. They talked about waiting until after your season is over. Maybe that's why she hasn't called you yet.”
Cal resumed kissing select parts of Larry eventually getting to his cock. Cal was a good cocksucker and soon had Larry panting hard, right on the verge. He stopped, “We could call her!”
“Cal, focus! I'm really close.”
Cal grinned and changed focus again, kissing Larry on the lips, ignoring his pulsing cock. “How close? Tell me how close?”
“Cal! Jeez!” After one more kiss, Cal got down to business and soon had Larry squirming and pumping his hips as he filled his mouth with come.
“Mmmm, my protein shake.”
“You're so unpredictable,” Larry panted trying to keep Cal off his cock which was always super sensitive right after orgasm.
“You love it.”
“Yes, but you will pay.” Larry grabbed Cal's ass and Cal sighed. He loved Larry's method of making him pay. It didn't happen right away though; it happened after the pizza.
Cal had had a long day at practice and Larry a long day traveling. With both of them full and getting tired, the payment was demanded by Larry and rendered by Cal and at ten o'clock they fell asleep holding each other. They had grown used to sleeping alone and soon separated in the bed, lying side by side. Still later, without fully waking up, they got back together and shared a kiss before sleeping soundly.
Larry woke first holding Cal's hand against his chest. He looked at his sleeping lover and wanted to kiss him. He restrained himself and let Cal sleep, but he couldn't leave him completely alone. He drew back the sheet and blew lightly on Cal's cock until it rose up hard. That put a smile on Cal's face; he stirred and gave a quiet groan. Larry backed away. “I hope you're dreaming of me, you beautiful man” he whispered as he went for a shower.
LeJohn was doing more than dreaming about Mario. He was hugging him and wouldn't let go. If asked, Mario would admit that he wasn't struggling very hard, but LeJohn was determined. The problem was he didn't know what to do next. LeJohn wanted to do more but the idea of gay sex never occurred to him.
There is a real homophobia among many American black men. One psychologist theorized that it developed in the days of slavery because there had been no equivalent social taboo in the native cultures of West Africa before arrival of the 19th century Christian missionaries. The years of American slavery represented a time when black family stability was almost meaningless and men often outnumbered available women by large numbers. It was theorized that in those circumstances homosexuality was inevitable and fairly widespread in a large portion of the male slave population, but it was an act of desperation, furtive and denied by the participants. This practiced aversion continued to the present day.
LeJohn had never thought of himself as homosexual. His sense of repression created an asexuality behind which he avoided the entire issue of sex. In his own head he was straight, although he had never pursued contact with women. At the same time he had never been tempted by men. He masturbated no more than was necessary to stay sane and fantasized about masturbation while doing so. At the moment all he knew was Mario was a wiggling bundle of human warmth and it was fun to hold him while he struggled.
Finally Mario stopped struggling and LeJohn stopped hugging. The wrestling had started over a pack of Spanish vocabulary flash cards Mario had made. LeJohn was tired of the Spanish lesson and grabbed the cards. Mario wanted them back. The erotic appeal of the ensuing struggle was lost on LeJohn but very apparent to Mario. He stopped struggling when he became afraid his erection would be obvious.
“Ok,” Mario said, “No more Spanish lessons today.”
“Good,” LeJohn answered. His Spanish was becoming much better than his one word answer would indicate. “I have basketball practice anyway.”
“Later, my brother,” Mario said and bent forward to give LeJohn a now customary kiss on the cheek. It landed on LeJohn's mouth. Soft full lips on soft full lips. Mario pulled back and tried to be off hand.
“Do brothers kiss on the lips?” Le John asked.
“Sometimes. Not usually,” Mario answered and they made no more of it.
Over the next hour, Mario tortured himself. I was so clumsy. Why did I have to do that? Did he kiss me back a little? I think I could feel him kiss me back a little. No. I must be dreaming. He would never do that. He's almost an Anglo. I'll be lucky to ever see him again. Stupid.
LeJohn didn't torture himself at all. What a great custom, he thought. We should all do that. He could still feel the light pressure of Mario's lips on his own. After practice he went back to Mario's room and knocked. Mario answered the door and got a light kiss hello from LeJohn. On the lips.
“Want to go to dinner?”
Mario was ready instantly and they walked to the student cafeteria together. Mario at five feet five inches and LeJohn at six feet seven drew a lot of looks. Their height difference was huge and comical to some; but the boys were wrapped up in their Spanish conversation talking about their favorite foods and didn't notice the attention they drew. Mario did notice LeJohn's beautiful amber-colored eyes and LeJohn noticed how Mario's cheerfulness shined in his expression, something he never saw in his brothers. As they waked back they came to LeJohn's dorm first. With both standing, a kiss was impossible. A touch on Mario's shoulder and a date for the next Spanish lesson was the best LeJohn could do.
Mario walked the rest of the way daydreaming of his friend. He walked right into Alex who was on his way to see Daegan and Heiko about skydiving.
“You're the guy who shot out of the door the other day.”
“Did you see that?”
“It was amazing. If you worked on your form a little, you'd look like a superhero,” Alex joked. “I'm Alex.”
“I know,” Mario answered.
“Oh ... You've seen the video too?” Alex had learned to be wary of people's reactions.
“Forget I said that. I'm Mario.”
“I'm thinking of going skydiving with the guys who live next door to you. Maybe you can give us some tips on landing,” Alex joked.
“Tip one. Arrange for LeJohn to catch you.”
Alex gave Mario a big grin, a very winning look that was melting hearts these days.
Mario took in the look. He recalled his repeated viewings of the video that had left him with his tongue hanging out. He could easily picture Alex naked, but there wasn't much of a choice. LeJohn is so much hotter, he decided.
Rory,
Another fun filled chapter.
The Braciole dinner sounded wonderful - and revealing to all of the participants.
Will Nicky and Darren connect completely? What will Nicky do - become a chef?
Who else needs a personal assistant? Can he join the modeling group?
Bradley - what are we going to do with you? Alex - can you get beyond everything and fall for this guy who loves you?
Cal and Larry and a weekend of earnest passion - and a bit of candid commentary to the owner of Cal's team - Ooops! Or, maybe not.
Then there're the boys in the dorm - and that whole crazy mixed up scenario.
And Mario - horny cute Mario - and an awakening Lejohn.
Tom headed out East to DC - definitely has some people upset - and who can blame them - they're going to miss their "engine", lol.
A great installment, Rory.
Thanks, as always, for sharing your talents with us.
Another fun filled chapter.
The Braciole dinner sounded wonderful - and revealing to all of the participants.
Will Nicky and Darren connect completely? What will Nicky do - become a chef?
Who else needs a personal assistant? Can he join the modeling group?
Bradley - what are we going to do with you? Alex - can you get beyond everything and fall for this guy who loves you?
Cal and Larry and a weekend of earnest passion - and a bit of candid commentary to the owner of Cal's team - Ooops! Or, maybe not.
Then there're the boys in the dorm - and that whole crazy mixed up scenario.
And Mario - horny cute Mario - and an awakening Lejohn.
Tom headed out East to DC - definitely has some people upset - and who can blame them - they're going to miss their "engine", lol.
A great installment, Rory.
Thanks, as always, for sharing your talents with us.
EasyRory
JUB Addict
Session Seventy
Tom was as good as his promise. He spent the night fucking Seth in every way possible except for a brief half-hour when it was Seth's turn. Finally they rested. Seth lay still and silent with tears on his cheeks.
“Aw, baby … Don't cry Seth. It's not the end of the world.”
“No, but it's probably the end of us. And I want you to know that there will never be anybody like you in my life again. You're unique, Tom. I've never known anybody as innocent and loving as you. I know it's crazy to call somebody in a threesome innocent, but you are. When you love somebody, it's absolute, nothing phony, nothing made up. You're all in, nothing held back. You take people absolutely as they are and see the best in them. You are completely unselfish. You ...”
“I'm not unselfish. I just like making people come. It gets me off better than coming myself. I see that look on your face right before you bust and it makes me cum, too.” He changed the subject. “Are you going to stay in the apartment?”
“No, I guess I'll move back to the office. It will save lots of time.”
“With Andrew? Are you going to ...”
“I don't think so. Not as lovers, anyway.”
“Seth, if I get fired in two weeks can I come back to you?”
“Two weeks. Two years. You'll always be welcome.” Seth got up and took a shower. When he came out of the bathroom, there was a difference, hard to pinpoint but unmistakable. Seth looked a little taller and much more independent. Things had already changed.
Rory drove Tom to the airport, filling the trip with a discussion of the project “You're going do great things.” he wound up his pep talk as they arrived.
“I hope so, Rory. I'll do my best.” Tom didn't tell Rory that Brent was giving a welcome to Washington party for him the next night. Tom grabbed his bag out of Rory's hand and walked to the Virgin America check-in desk. I may be new in Washington, but I'm no virgin, he told himself. Dumb name for an airline. Unforgettable; but dumb.
The thing about Washington, the truth that challenges new arrivals is that nothing is ever certain, no victory is ever final, and no one is your friend for long. This may reflect the underlying pettiness of the place, the often smarmy people, or even just some alien mineral in the water. Some people learn this quickly and to others it's instinctual; the saddest cases never learn it at all, no matter how many punches in the gut they take. Harry Truman said, “If you want a friend in Washington, get a dog.” Tom waited for Flight 84 to be called and felt around in his pocket, fingering the little black Scottish terrier on the key chain Seth had given him.
Leaving Seth had left his dick sore and his heart warm. Their relationship would have ended no matter what he did; but it had ended well, with mutual regard, a lingering love, and memories that would be polished and preserved over their lifetimes.
As the small Airbus climbed into the sky, for a moment Tom could see Alameda directly across the Bay. Shabby here and there, rough in places - I love that little island, he thought. I'm coming back, he promised himself. Everybody who moves to Washington makes that promise. Sometimes they keep it.
The morning after Nicky's braciole he woke with the bit in his teeth. Darren could overhear a lot of it, the plane reservation, the call to Morrie's old secretary, and the plan to pick up his stuff at the office.
“What are you going to do in New York, Nicky?” Darren asked, and Nicky recounted the plans Darren had heard him make.
“But that's all dealing with the past. What are you going to do next?
Nicky struggled for an answer. “Well, I'm going to get my resume together … and plan where to send it … and check my contacts … and ...”
“You could do all that stuff here. Why don't you stay? For a while at least.”
“But my house ...”
“Is it going to fall down in the next week or two?”
“Well, no, but … there's my car ...”
“Sitting under six inches of dust. It is going get completely buried in the next week or two?”
“No … but I need to be in New York.”
“Why?”
“I need to work. I hate being idle.”
“Cancel the flight and get dressed. I have work for you. A different kind. It will clear your head. Recenter you. Improve your karma. Enhance your aura. All that California stuff. You could use some. And you still haven't been to Santa Cruz.”
On the road south, Nicky listened to the engine. “I think your TT runs better than mine.”
“Duh! I drive mine. It likes being driven.”
“So why am I doing this? Whatever it is I'm doing ...”
“You will analyze our project. You will see incongruities and inefficiencies that others miss. And if you don't, at least you'll get to see some nice art and meet some interesting people.”
Darren introduced Nicky as a consultant from New York. Von Allmen was more impressed after Darren assured him he wouldn't be billed for Nicky's time. Nicky in turn was impressed by Heiko who showed him around the museum and the project.
Heiko was operating in his Teutonic mode, super efficient and single-minded, apparently unaware of the admiring glances he drew as they walked around the center. Nicky didn't miss them and noticed he drew a few looks also. There was a buzz that followed them.
“O-m-g, you should see this new one!” the receptionist hissed into his cell. “Will they be working in the Asian collection this week?” lisped another. “It's not like I have a chance, but they're so nice to have around,” said a gravelly voice damaged by years of cigarettes.
Darren's enterprise had attracted the special attention of a number of staff from the day they arrived. Memories of the unfortunate disgrace and removal of Gabriel ensured that most keep their distance, but looking never hurt. Rory's admonitions to be polite and compliment the customer were reinterpreted by Darren to mean a hint of flirting was ok, but no more than a hint.
“Mr. Harrison, would it be alright with you if I show Nicky the back room?” got Heiko instant approval. It didn't matter that Mr. Harrison had no approval authority. A phone call followed. “He called me 'Mr. Harrison' in that cute accent! Oh, I could eat him alive,” Mr. Harrison whispered to another lonely staffer who whispered back, “What about Nicky? Did you meet him? Mark said Nicky has got to be packing one that's a foot long.”
Nicky was very aware of the buzz and mentioned it to Darren mid-morning.
“Yeah, they like us alright,” Darren acknowledged. “I figure there's no harm. Well, there was that one time ...” Darren told Nicky a vivid version of poor Gabriel's story and Nicky could barely keep from shreeking laughter in the middle of a busy Native American room. They went to the coffee shop for lunch where Von Allmen saw them and sat down.
“How do you like our little museum, Mr. ...”
“Afragola, but call me Nicky, please, Dr. von Allmen. Do you know what struck me? I just came from Singapore where I saw a collection of Chinese Stone Age pottery. There is an amazing similarity in color, shape, and design – or is the word decoration? - with your Native American pottery. Is there a connection? Or is all primitive art similar?”
“Yes and no, to be precise.” Dr. von Allmen laughed at his little joke. “And there are doctoral dissertations to support both answers.”
“I was wondering if it would be useful to link the collections by those characteristics to find more such patterns. The computer could make those searches almost instantaneous.”
“Darren, could you do that?”
“Oh, sure. We'd need your staff's discipline in defining terms, but, programmatically, it would be easy and cheap to do. We're doing something similar for the Smithsonian. It would be great to have commonality.”
“Could you draw up a specification and cost for that task? I'll show it to the board. Emphasize the Smithsonian connection,” Dr. von Allmen winked.
“He likes you,” Nicky said after the doctor had left.
“I try to keep him happy.”
“If you try any harder, he'll ask you to move in.”
“I don't think so. I think he's more … proud of me, like a successful student.”
“No wonder it always seemed like you could take or leave Zara. You like this, don't you.”
“I love it.”
“And everybody seems to love you, in a respectful way, I mean.”
“I'm sorry you didn't get to meet Tom,” Darren said. “He left for the Smithsonian project this morning.” As usual Darren ducked a compliment by complimenting someone else.
Rory was happy to hear about the potential contract add-on. “Congratulations, Darren. You've done it again.”
“It was Nicky's idea. He sold it to Dr. von Allmen. I just agreed to write it up.”
“Is he always this way? That is so not true. He took my random blob of a thought and turned it into a salalbe concept and then sealed the deal,” Nicky protested.
“Well, congratulations and thanks to both of you, then. Is this big enough for a Chevy's celebration, Darren?”
“No, this is more like a small bottle of wine idea, but there's enough braciole for another dinner.”
“Good. We can do it at my place, it's our turn to have people over. Bernice? Cyril? You want to come?”
Bernice looked like a broomstick with three soccer balls stuck on. The baby was still a couple months away and her figure was changing daily, rarely in a good way, although Cyril had confided that the blossoming boobs were a nice addition. Most days the pregnant Bernice looked more bilious than blissful. So Rory got a no from Bernice and Cyril.
LeJohn arrived for his Spanish lesson thinking that Spanish was the highlight of his day. The height difference was a constant obstacle. Instead of giving Mario a little kiss it was another head bump. “Wait. Let me try that again.” LeJohn went out and came in again. This time he picked up Mario so their faces were even and kissed him. The kiss-hug combo gave Mario a chubby but LeJohn didn't notice.
“Ok,” the lesson began, “Tell me something you're ashamed of,” Mario asked.
“People think LeJohn is some version of LeBron. They think I made it up.”
“Doesn't count. That's other people's problem, not yours. I want something really embarrassing. Like with me. I'm ashamed of being so short and ugly.” Mario tried to be lighthearted about it, but LeJohn knew Mario wasn't joking and it hurt, just like … he stopped short.
“My penis is small.”
Mario didn't know how to answer that. LeJohn was breathing hard, searching Mario's face for signs of ridicule. One mistake and LeJohn would bolt.
“I don't believe it. Show me.”
“Show you?”
“Yes, don't think about it. Show me,” Mario demanded. “Right now.”
LeJohn stood and held his breath as he pulled his shorts down.
Mario scrutinized what hung in front of him. LeJohn shifted his weight from foot to foot as embarrassed as he had ever been. “I'm embarrassed,” he said. “Estoy embarazada.”
Mario laughed and spoke English. “You just told me you are pregnant. It's 'Me da vergüenza' in Spanish. Pull your shorts up. Your penis is not small. It's normal and it's beautiful. It just looks small because the rest of you is so big. I bet it's bigger than average when you get hard.”
“It's beautiful?” LeJohn asked, not sure whose penis Mario had in mind.
“Yes, absolutely; but I'm still short and ugly. Tell me something really embarrassing.”
“I always thought it was small. My brothers told me it was small and it's a lot smaller than theirs.”
“It probably was when you were eight years old. Have you checked lately?”
“No … I … I've always stayed away from naked guys. Are you sure? Let me see yours.”
Mario showed him and LeJohn hung his head. “I should have known. You are much bigger than me.”
“I'm not. It just looks bigger because I'm so fucking short.” Mario hoped he was correct, because, short or not, he did have a good sized dick.
They ended up comparing dicks like kids and it wasn't easy because of the height difference. LeJohn stood up and his dick was almost in Mario's mouth.
“What is this? You want a blow job?” Mario asked, laughing. If LeJohn hadn't been black he would have been red.
They sat down and compared. It was a close match.
“See, you are bigger,” LeJohn said, pleased that the difference wasn't much.
“A millimeter, maybe,” Mario countered.
LeJohn stood to pull his shorts up and again his dick was almost in Mario's mouth.
“If you want a blow job, just say so. You don't have to keep waving that monster cock in my face,” Mario challenged.
LeJohn wasn't sure. “You're kidding, right?”
Mario stood and pulled his pants up. “What do you think?” He walked to the window.
For his first time in his life, LeJohn felt the stirings of an erection in response to another person and quickly pulled his shorts up. He breathed more easily when he heard Mario start naming sports items. At basketball practice that afternoon LeJohn took his time and looked around the locker room. He was not a giant among men, but his penis was not the smallest either. At least three guys looked smaller.
Normal. Ordinario or común, in Spanish, he decided. ¿Como te gusta mi pinga? How do you like my cock? He walked to the showers carrying his towel and letting his dick swing freely.
“Of course you can live here, sweetie. You own half the lease ... half the company,” Andrew told Seth.
“No sex, Andrew.” Seth laid out his terms.
“No, of course not.” Andrew agreed readily and began a phone call. He clicked off and looked at Seth, who was going over a contract. “We always did have a good time, though.”
“No sex, Andrew.” Seth was adamant, but Andrew''s cock felt so good as it slid into him ten minutes later that he could only sigh and spread his legs a little wider.
“It won't happen often, I promise, Seth. But we have such a good time. It would be wrong to waste that. Just lie still. I'll get you a towel.”
The morals of a snake ... Seth shook his head, feeling the cum on his belly start to dry; and I'm stuck with him whether I like it or not. The thing is I do like it.
Andrew returned with a small towel. Gently and carefully he wiped Seth off, finishing with a smile. “I talked to Bradley about a 'Part Two' video. He didn't say no. Could you work on Alex? You're better at dealing with him. Somehow, I don't think he trusts me.”
Tom was as good as his promise. He spent the night fucking Seth in every way possible except for a brief half-hour when it was Seth's turn. Finally they rested. Seth lay still and silent with tears on his cheeks.
“Aw, baby … Don't cry Seth. It's not the end of the world.”
“No, but it's probably the end of us. And I want you to know that there will never be anybody like you in my life again. You're unique, Tom. I've never known anybody as innocent and loving as you. I know it's crazy to call somebody in a threesome innocent, but you are. When you love somebody, it's absolute, nothing phony, nothing made up. You're all in, nothing held back. You take people absolutely as they are and see the best in them. You are completely unselfish. You ...”
“I'm not unselfish. I just like making people come. It gets me off better than coming myself. I see that look on your face right before you bust and it makes me cum, too.” He changed the subject. “Are you going to stay in the apartment?”
“No, I guess I'll move back to the office. It will save lots of time.”
“With Andrew? Are you going to ...”
“I don't think so. Not as lovers, anyway.”
“Seth, if I get fired in two weeks can I come back to you?”
“Two weeks. Two years. You'll always be welcome.” Seth got up and took a shower. When he came out of the bathroom, there was a difference, hard to pinpoint but unmistakable. Seth looked a little taller and much more independent. Things had already changed.
Rory drove Tom to the airport, filling the trip with a discussion of the project “You're going do great things.” he wound up his pep talk as they arrived.
“I hope so, Rory. I'll do my best.” Tom didn't tell Rory that Brent was giving a welcome to Washington party for him the next night. Tom grabbed his bag out of Rory's hand and walked to the Virgin America check-in desk. I may be new in Washington, but I'm no virgin, he told himself. Dumb name for an airline. Unforgettable; but dumb.
The thing about Washington, the truth that challenges new arrivals is that nothing is ever certain, no victory is ever final, and no one is your friend for long. This may reflect the underlying pettiness of the place, the often smarmy people, or even just some alien mineral in the water. Some people learn this quickly and to others it's instinctual; the saddest cases never learn it at all, no matter how many punches in the gut they take. Harry Truman said, “If you want a friend in Washington, get a dog.” Tom waited for Flight 84 to be called and felt around in his pocket, fingering the little black Scottish terrier on the key chain Seth had given him.
Leaving Seth had left his dick sore and his heart warm. Their relationship would have ended no matter what he did; but it had ended well, with mutual regard, a lingering love, and memories that would be polished and preserved over their lifetimes.
As the small Airbus climbed into the sky, for a moment Tom could see Alameda directly across the Bay. Shabby here and there, rough in places - I love that little island, he thought. I'm coming back, he promised himself. Everybody who moves to Washington makes that promise. Sometimes they keep it.
The morning after Nicky's braciole he woke with the bit in his teeth. Darren could overhear a lot of it, the plane reservation, the call to Morrie's old secretary, and the plan to pick up his stuff at the office.
“What are you going to do in New York, Nicky?” Darren asked, and Nicky recounted the plans Darren had heard him make.
“But that's all dealing with the past. What are you going to do next?
Nicky struggled for an answer. “Well, I'm going to get my resume together … and plan where to send it … and check my contacts … and ...”
“You could do all that stuff here. Why don't you stay? For a while at least.”
“But my house ...”
“Is it going to fall down in the next week or two?”
“Well, no, but … there's my car ...”
“Sitting under six inches of dust. It is going get completely buried in the next week or two?”
“No … but I need to be in New York.”
“Why?”
“I need to work. I hate being idle.”
“Cancel the flight and get dressed. I have work for you. A different kind. It will clear your head. Recenter you. Improve your karma. Enhance your aura. All that California stuff. You could use some. And you still haven't been to Santa Cruz.”
On the road south, Nicky listened to the engine. “I think your TT runs better than mine.”
“Duh! I drive mine. It likes being driven.”
“So why am I doing this? Whatever it is I'm doing ...”
“You will analyze our project. You will see incongruities and inefficiencies that others miss. And if you don't, at least you'll get to see some nice art and meet some interesting people.”
Darren introduced Nicky as a consultant from New York. Von Allmen was more impressed after Darren assured him he wouldn't be billed for Nicky's time. Nicky in turn was impressed by Heiko who showed him around the museum and the project.
Heiko was operating in his Teutonic mode, super efficient and single-minded, apparently unaware of the admiring glances he drew as they walked around the center. Nicky didn't miss them and noticed he drew a few looks also. There was a buzz that followed them.
“O-m-g, you should see this new one!” the receptionist hissed into his cell. “Will they be working in the Asian collection this week?” lisped another. “It's not like I have a chance, but they're so nice to have around,” said a gravelly voice damaged by years of cigarettes.
Darren's enterprise had attracted the special attention of a number of staff from the day they arrived. Memories of the unfortunate disgrace and removal of Gabriel ensured that most keep their distance, but looking never hurt. Rory's admonitions to be polite and compliment the customer were reinterpreted by Darren to mean a hint of flirting was ok, but no more than a hint.
“Mr. Harrison, would it be alright with you if I show Nicky the back room?” got Heiko instant approval. It didn't matter that Mr. Harrison had no approval authority. A phone call followed. “He called me 'Mr. Harrison' in that cute accent! Oh, I could eat him alive,” Mr. Harrison whispered to another lonely staffer who whispered back, “What about Nicky? Did you meet him? Mark said Nicky has got to be packing one that's a foot long.”
Nicky was very aware of the buzz and mentioned it to Darren mid-morning.
“Yeah, they like us alright,” Darren acknowledged. “I figure there's no harm. Well, there was that one time ...” Darren told Nicky a vivid version of poor Gabriel's story and Nicky could barely keep from shreeking laughter in the middle of a busy Native American room. They went to the coffee shop for lunch where Von Allmen saw them and sat down.
“How do you like our little museum, Mr. ...”
“Afragola, but call me Nicky, please, Dr. von Allmen. Do you know what struck me? I just came from Singapore where I saw a collection of Chinese Stone Age pottery. There is an amazing similarity in color, shape, and design – or is the word decoration? - with your Native American pottery. Is there a connection? Or is all primitive art similar?”
“Yes and no, to be precise.” Dr. von Allmen laughed at his little joke. “And there are doctoral dissertations to support both answers.”
“I was wondering if it would be useful to link the collections by those characteristics to find more such patterns. The computer could make those searches almost instantaneous.”
“Darren, could you do that?”
“Oh, sure. We'd need your staff's discipline in defining terms, but, programmatically, it would be easy and cheap to do. We're doing something similar for the Smithsonian. It would be great to have commonality.”
“Could you draw up a specification and cost for that task? I'll show it to the board. Emphasize the Smithsonian connection,” Dr. von Allmen winked.
“He likes you,” Nicky said after the doctor had left.
“I try to keep him happy.”
“If you try any harder, he'll ask you to move in.”
“I don't think so. I think he's more … proud of me, like a successful student.”
“No wonder it always seemed like you could take or leave Zara. You like this, don't you.”
“I love it.”
“And everybody seems to love you, in a respectful way, I mean.”
“I'm sorry you didn't get to meet Tom,” Darren said. “He left for the Smithsonian project this morning.” As usual Darren ducked a compliment by complimenting someone else.
Rory was happy to hear about the potential contract add-on. “Congratulations, Darren. You've done it again.”
“It was Nicky's idea. He sold it to Dr. von Allmen. I just agreed to write it up.”
“Is he always this way? That is so not true. He took my random blob of a thought and turned it into a salalbe concept and then sealed the deal,” Nicky protested.
“Well, congratulations and thanks to both of you, then. Is this big enough for a Chevy's celebration, Darren?”
“No, this is more like a small bottle of wine idea, but there's enough braciole for another dinner.”
“Good. We can do it at my place, it's our turn to have people over. Bernice? Cyril? You want to come?”
Bernice looked like a broomstick with three soccer balls stuck on. The baby was still a couple months away and her figure was changing daily, rarely in a good way, although Cyril had confided that the blossoming boobs were a nice addition. Most days the pregnant Bernice looked more bilious than blissful. So Rory got a no from Bernice and Cyril.
LeJohn arrived for his Spanish lesson thinking that Spanish was the highlight of his day. The height difference was a constant obstacle. Instead of giving Mario a little kiss it was another head bump. “Wait. Let me try that again.” LeJohn went out and came in again. This time he picked up Mario so their faces were even and kissed him. The kiss-hug combo gave Mario a chubby but LeJohn didn't notice.
“Ok,” the lesson began, “Tell me something you're ashamed of,” Mario asked.
“People think LeJohn is some version of LeBron. They think I made it up.”
“Doesn't count. That's other people's problem, not yours. I want something really embarrassing. Like with me. I'm ashamed of being so short and ugly.” Mario tried to be lighthearted about it, but LeJohn knew Mario wasn't joking and it hurt, just like … he stopped short.
“My penis is small.”
Mario didn't know how to answer that. LeJohn was breathing hard, searching Mario's face for signs of ridicule. One mistake and LeJohn would bolt.
“I don't believe it. Show me.”
“Show you?”
“Yes, don't think about it. Show me,” Mario demanded. “Right now.”
LeJohn stood and held his breath as he pulled his shorts down.
Mario scrutinized what hung in front of him. LeJohn shifted his weight from foot to foot as embarrassed as he had ever been. “I'm embarrassed,” he said. “Estoy embarazada.”
Mario laughed and spoke English. “You just told me you are pregnant. It's 'Me da vergüenza' in Spanish. Pull your shorts up. Your penis is not small. It's normal and it's beautiful. It just looks small because the rest of you is so big. I bet it's bigger than average when you get hard.”
“It's beautiful?” LeJohn asked, not sure whose penis Mario had in mind.
“Yes, absolutely; but I'm still short and ugly. Tell me something really embarrassing.”
“I always thought it was small. My brothers told me it was small and it's a lot smaller than theirs.”
“It probably was when you were eight years old. Have you checked lately?”
“No … I … I've always stayed away from naked guys. Are you sure? Let me see yours.”
Mario showed him and LeJohn hung his head. “I should have known. You are much bigger than me.”
“I'm not. It just looks bigger because I'm so fucking short.” Mario hoped he was correct, because, short or not, he did have a good sized dick.
They ended up comparing dicks like kids and it wasn't easy because of the height difference. LeJohn stood up and his dick was almost in Mario's mouth.
“What is this? You want a blow job?” Mario asked, laughing. If LeJohn hadn't been black he would have been red.
They sat down and compared. It was a close match.
“See, you are bigger,” LeJohn said, pleased that the difference wasn't much.
“A millimeter, maybe,” Mario countered.
LeJohn stood to pull his shorts up and again his dick was almost in Mario's mouth.
“If you want a blow job, just say so. You don't have to keep waving that monster cock in my face,” Mario challenged.
LeJohn wasn't sure. “You're kidding, right?”
Mario stood and pulled his pants up. “What do you think?” He walked to the window.
For his first time in his life, LeJohn felt the stirings of an erection in response to another person and quickly pulled his shorts up. He breathed more easily when he heard Mario start naming sports items. At basketball practice that afternoon LeJohn took his time and looked around the locker room. He was not a giant among men, but his penis was not the smallest either. At least three guys looked smaller.
Normal. Ordinario or común, in Spanish, he decided. ¿Como te gusta mi pinga? How do you like my cock? He walked to the showers carrying his towel and letting his dick swing freely.
“Of course you can live here, sweetie. You own half the lease ... half the company,” Andrew told Seth.
“No sex, Andrew.” Seth laid out his terms.
“No, of course not.” Andrew agreed readily and began a phone call. He clicked off and looked at Seth, who was going over a contract. “We always did have a good time, though.”
“No sex, Andrew.” Seth was adamant, but Andrew''s cock felt so good as it slid into him ten minutes later that he could only sigh and spread his legs a little wider.
“It won't happen often, I promise, Seth. But we have such a good time. It would be wrong to waste that. Just lie still. I'll get you a towel.”
The morals of a snake ... Seth shook his head, feeling the cum on his belly start to dry; and I'm stuck with him whether I like it or not. The thing is I do like it.
Andrew returned with a small towel. Gently and carefully he wiped Seth off, finishing with a smile. “I talked to Bradley about a 'Part Two' video. He didn't say no. Could you work on Alex? You're better at dealing with him. Somehow, I don't think he trusts me.”
Andrew, I don't think too many people trust trust you, they just know you, and what to expect.
Tom is off to DC, land of false fronts and alternate agendas.
Meanwhile, back at Stanford, a wee bit more billable work, thanks to Nicky's observations and Darren's sales abilities.
Maybe this working class NY neighborhood will have a house for sale in the near future, and a cross country road trip. NY to SF, possibly by way of DC - it's a relatively short detour to stop and say hi to Tom, afterall.
Meanwhile, Mario advances the bet to LeJohn just a wee willie winkie bit, lol.
Braciole, take two, new venue for the night . . .
Lots of continuing interest. Are you going to make us a bit more schizophrenic and follow Tom in DC, or is he just going to be like Cal, the occasional recurring character from afar for awhile?
I know, stay tuned for further details.
EasyRory
JUB Addict
Session Seventy-One
“Why so glum, Darren?” Z was making dinner and Darren was moping so obviously his chin was almost on the floor. “Will Nicky be here for dinner?”
“Nicky caught a red-eye to New York last night.”
Z waited for Darren to tell him more but no more was forthcoming. So Z pushed. “That's a shame. I thought he was going to stay for a while. Did he get a job offer?”
They were interrupted by Eric's arrival. “News? Ready for news?” Eric was about to explode; instead he swung Z around the room in his arms.
“You got in? Yes?” Z kissed his lover. “Yes, you got in!”
“Clare says I'll get my BS in May and UCSF said I start medical school in June.”
Z and Darren were full of praise and well wishes for Eric who accepted them with modest grace after he got just a few self-congratulatory fist pumps out of the way. He failed to notice Darren's actual mood until Darren spoke.
“You know … I think I'll go to bed early. I'm really tired today.” It was just after seven o'clock, nowhere close to bed time even if Darren had spent the day working in a salt mine.
After Darren's departure Eric looked at Z in wonder. “Nicky left last night,” Z explained.
Darren tiptoed up to his room, avoiding Monica and Carolyn, and flopped on the bed. He replayed the God-damned trip to Santa Cruz in his head. It started so well. It was a pretty day, still warm after an afternoon at the Cantor Center. They drove south for a seafood dinner in Monterrey and stopped to walk along the ocean at Salinas River Beach. The waves were huge and even Nicky decided he wanted to try surfing.
“I've never been tempted in New York, even on those six days a year when the waves are big enough,” he told Darren. “It's totally different here.” They watch a few late-day surfers in wet suits come ashore and pack up their boards.
They walked and talked about the Stanford project. Nicky even threw out the idea of working for Levi Strauss. “I have a contact there who is encouraging. Of course that all depends on one thing.”
“What's that?” asked Darren, who thought it was a terrific idea.
“Well, actually several things. Wrapping up my business in New York comes first. Finding a place to live here won't be easy. And I need to get Morrie's ok.” He paused and said, “ I talked to Morrie. He said to tell you I love you.” Nicky held his breath, waiting for Darren's reaction.
“I know,” Darren said. “He tells me that now and then. I'm not sure why he does, but it makes me feel less like a whore.”
“No, Darren. I love you. Not Morrie. Me ... I love you.”
“Yeah, I know,” Darren chuckled. “And you've always been good about boosting my ego, too.”
Nicky held Darren by the arms, “I'm not saying, ha-ha, I love you. I'm telling you with all my heart, I love you.” Nicky decided to make it clearer. “I love you and I want to live with you. Have sex with you. Spend every day with you. Being with you makes me happier than I've ever been.” Nicky shouted into the wind and frightened a sea gull. “I LOVE YOU, DARREN ALVA.” He attempted to kiss Darren, but Darren backed away.
“Nicky ...” Darren began.
“Fuck,” Nicky muttered. “Fuck, fuck , fuck it all. If you can't say 'I love you, too,' I don't want to hear it.”
“I'm not ...”
“Let's go, let's go back to the house,” Nicky demanded.
It wasn't a short drive back; the trip would take well over an hour. It was against traffic and quick until they got to through San Jose, but then the traffic slowed – to a crawl in Milpitas. There was plenty of time for Darren to explain that he was caught off guard.
“I'm not telling you no, Nicky. You want to have sex? I'll do that any time you want, any way you want. I'll stop the car right now.” Darren put his hand on Nicky's thigh to emphasize his meaning, but Nicky pulled it away.
The rest of the trip was torture. Every time Darren tried to explain, Nicky said he didn't want to hear. Finally Nicky said he wouldn't bother Darren any more.
“You're not a bother; you'll never be a bother, Nicky. You're always bright, and interesting, and fun, except right now. I'm so sorry I said anything. I should have just let you kiss me.”
“I don't want to 'just kiss you'. I want us to be in love … and kiss each other.”
“I could try. Give me a little time. This is new,” Darren offered,but Nicky just looked out the window at the stream of semi's in the next lane of the 880 as they approached the exit. Forty-five minutes later, Nicky got into a cab to the airport.
Darren lay on his narrow bed thinking. I disappointed Seth. I disappointed Tom. I probably did everything wrong with Heiko. And now, Nicky. What's wrong with me? Any one of those guys was a prize and I fucked it up every time. Because I don't know what love is? Everybody else seems able to figure it out. Why can't I? I wish Nicky were here. I'd do it differently.
In the same twilight hour, LeJohn and Mario were walking through the park on the peninsula's ridgeline. Mario walked on the upslope and LeJohn beneath him, making them see almost eye-to-eye. The fog bank moved closer and closer off the ocean until fingers of fog appeared like wisps in the trees and still it came on, rushing over the hills, drawn by the temperature inversion.
“I can't believe how lucky I was to catch you when you tried to put yourself in orbit,” LeJohn said. It was an appreciation Mario had heard before; but he loved hearing it from LeJohn every time.
“It couldn't have worked out better if I had aimed,” Mario said. “First you caught me. Now I'd do anything for you.”
LeJohn got a devilish grin. “Yeah? What about those times you joked about giving me a blow job?”
“Here's the deal,” Mario proposed. “When we're sitting on a cloud in heaven, just the two of us, mostly naked in those short robes, with nothing to do, no harps to play, and our wings are tired, I'll give you a blow job. That's a promise, LeJohn. La más grande chupada.” A big blow job was Mario's commitment.
They walked farther into more fog. “You know, right here? This is kind of like heaven,” LeJohn said with a twinkle in his eye.
“And the fog is getting thick, like a cloud,” Mario added.
“No harps in sight,” LeJohn sighed.
“And my wings would be tired, if I had any,” Mario whispered and held his breath. He looked at his best friend, his near-brother, and eagerly responded to LeJohn's kiss. They kissed for a while and then some more. LeJohn put Mario's hand on his cock to demonstrate his readiness, but when Mario showed his willingness to begin, LeJohn stopped him.
“It's too cold; it's too wet; and we're on a slippery hill. I bet it would be a lot better if we tried this in your bed … naked … after some more of this kissing”
“Why didn't I think of that?” Mario asked. They walked silently with hastening steps back to Mario's room, pausing only when no one was around for another kiss.
“I bet you didn't think of this either,” Le John told Mario as he stripped him bare and led off the night of sword-swallowing. Nothing disappointed them; their love and enthusiasm made up of for an understandable lack of skill. After their first exchange, LeJohn couldn't contain himself. “I hope everybody can be as happy as I am right now.” He licked his lips clean of cum and kissed Mario, no longer his brother, but now his lover.
Darren got out of bed at nine. He could hear the television playing downstairs for Carolyn and Monica. He looked out his window, unable to sleep. He saw Roger and Josh drive their bikes slowly down San Antonio and then just past his house accelerate with a roar to make the light at Park Street. They had no idea what a difference that rush to make the green would have for Darren. For one thing he got no sleep at all as he accelerated through that night.
Early the next morning Darren pounded on the door of the little house, waking a couple neighbors. He yelled, “I AM GONNA LOVE YOU, NICKY, LIKE YOU”VE NEVER BEEN LOVED BEFORE. I AM GOING TO STAY WITH YOU AND FUCK YOU AND ...”
“Jeez, Darren!” Nicky opened the door and only his kiss could shut Darren up. “My neighbors are straight.”
“I”M NOT TRYING TO FUCK YOUR NEIGHBORS. I WANT YOU.”
“Get inside. You got me.”
“I'M NEVER LETTING YOU GO AGAIN. I'M ...”
Nicky put his hand over Darren's mouth, silencing him. He took his hand away to see Darren's reaction.
“I LOVE YOU, NICKY. I...” Nicky recovered Darren's mouth. Darren began nibbling on his fingers.
“Are you hungry? Just shake your head,” Nicky said, keeping his hand in place. Darren shook his head no. “Did you bring a bag?” Darren shook his head no again. “That's not very practical,” Nicky observed. Darren shook his head again. “But you love me?” Darren shook his head yes. “Are you going to keep yelling?”
A couple of hundred miles south in a neighborhood called Cleveland Park, in northwest Washington, Tom got up and began his day. Tom had thought - had hoped that he could stay with Brent but Brent had made other arrangements. He was living in a small apartment that was part of the old carriage house on a large estate. The apartment was perfectly adequate, very nicely furnished, in fact; and there were other tenants judging by various noises he heard.
Brent had warned that Washington weather was tricky and Tom wasn't sure what clothes to wear in early spring for his first day of work. So he went outside in a bathrobe to sample the weather. Suit jacket but no coat, he decided. As he turned to go back in, a young man emerged from the door.
“Hi, I'm Matt,” he introduced himself. He was wearing makeup, quite a lot of makeup for seven in the morning.
Another head appeared, this one without make up. “I'm Mike.”
Tom looked from one to the other. “Twins!”
“That's what everybody calls us. Can't imagine why.” Minus the makeup, they were identical.
Tom introduced himself to the twins, incredibly hot twins, looking at him as if every possibility was up for consideration. He squeezed his thumb against a fingernail. This was real. A broad smile spread across his face.
Matt explained his makeup saying he was going to the dress rehearsal of a play. “It's a tiny theatre, no dressing rooms.”
Mike invited Tom to have coffee. “Just go up on the porch. I'll be right there.”
Tom climbed the outdoor stairs to the roof of the two-story garage and saw a weathered wooden sign at the top. “Warning: Nude Beach. Clothing optional beyond this point.” He kept his bathrobe on and wondered what Mike would wear. He pushed aside the nagging thought that he needed to be at work at nine-thirty. That was more than two hours away.
There is no question that there are many places besides Alameda where genetic, social, and climatic diversities mix and produce interesting lives, where ecology in its broadest sense stirs the people pot. The world is a big place and, while Elgar's strains seldom remind us anymore, the land of hope and glory lies all around. Almost anywhere runaways can find homes; wasted lives can be made productive; and damaged and hurt people can find solace if not always love. It happens every day.
A close examination of events in the little house in Rockaway and the old garage in Washington will probably produce more remarkable tales of love and greed, satisfaction and broken hearts; but all those tales will benefit from the lessons learned and passed down by our two heroes from that small island in San Francisco Bay.
“Why so glum, Darren?” Z was making dinner and Darren was moping so obviously his chin was almost on the floor. “Will Nicky be here for dinner?”
“Nicky caught a red-eye to New York last night.”
Z waited for Darren to tell him more but no more was forthcoming. So Z pushed. “That's a shame. I thought he was going to stay for a while. Did he get a job offer?”
They were interrupted by Eric's arrival. “News? Ready for news?” Eric was about to explode; instead he swung Z around the room in his arms.
“You got in? Yes?” Z kissed his lover. “Yes, you got in!”
“Clare says I'll get my BS in May and UCSF said I start medical school in June.”
Z and Darren were full of praise and well wishes for Eric who accepted them with modest grace after he got just a few self-congratulatory fist pumps out of the way. He failed to notice Darren's actual mood until Darren spoke.
“You know … I think I'll go to bed early. I'm really tired today.” It was just after seven o'clock, nowhere close to bed time even if Darren had spent the day working in a salt mine.
After Darren's departure Eric looked at Z in wonder. “Nicky left last night,” Z explained.
Darren tiptoed up to his room, avoiding Monica and Carolyn, and flopped on the bed. He replayed the God-damned trip to Santa Cruz in his head. It started so well. It was a pretty day, still warm after an afternoon at the Cantor Center. They drove south for a seafood dinner in Monterrey and stopped to walk along the ocean at Salinas River Beach. The waves were huge and even Nicky decided he wanted to try surfing.
“I've never been tempted in New York, even on those six days a year when the waves are big enough,” he told Darren. “It's totally different here.” They watch a few late-day surfers in wet suits come ashore and pack up their boards.
They walked and talked about the Stanford project. Nicky even threw out the idea of working for Levi Strauss. “I have a contact there who is encouraging. Of course that all depends on one thing.”
“What's that?” asked Darren, who thought it was a terrific idea.
“Well, actually several things. Wrapping up my business in New York comes first. Finding a place to live here won't be easy. And I need to get Morrie's ok.” He paused and said, “ I talked to Morrie. He said to tell you I love you.” Nicky held his breath, waiting for Darren's reaction.
“I know,” Darren said. “He tells me that now and then. I'm not sure why he does, but it makes me feel less like a whore.”
“No, Darren. I love you. Not Morrie. Me ... I love you.”
“Yeah, I know,” Darren chuckled. “And you've always been good about boosting my ego, too.”
Nicky held Darren by the arms, “I'm not saying, ha-ha, I love you. I'm telling you with all my heart, I love you.” Nicky decided to make it clearer. “I love you and I want to live with you. Have sex with you. Spend every day with you. Being with you makes me happier than I've ever been.” Nicky shouted into the wind and frightened a sea gull. “I LOVE YOU, DARREN ALVA.” He attempted to kiss Darren, but Darren backed away.
“Nicky ...” Darren began.
“Fuck,” Nicky muttered. “Fuck, fuck , fuck it all. If you can't say 'I love you, too,' I don't want to hear it.”
“I'm not ...”
“Let's go, let's go back to the house,” Nicky demanded.
It wasn't a short drive back; the trip would take well over an hour. It was against traffic and quick until they got to through San Jose, but then the traffic slowed – to a crawl in Milpitas. There was plenty of time for Darren to explain that he was caught off guard.
“I'm not telling you no, Nicky. You want to have sex? I'll do that any time you want, any way you want. I'll stop the car right now.” Darren put his hand on Nicky's thigh to emphasize his meaning, but Nicky pulled it away.
The rest of the trip was torture. Every time Darren tried to explain, Nicky said he didn't want to hear. Finally Nicky said he wouldn't bother Darren any more.
“You're not a bother; you'll never be a bother, Nicky. You're always bright, and interesting, and fun, except right now. I'm so sorry I said anything. I should have just let you kiss me.”
“I don't want to 'just kiss you'. I want us to be in love … and kiss each other.”
“I could try. Give me a little time. This is new,” Darren offered,but Nicky just looked out the window at the stream of semi's in the next lane of the 880 as they approached the exit. Forty-five minutes later, Nicky got into a cab to the airport.
Darren lay on his narrow bed thinking. I disappointed Seth. I disappointed Tom. I probably did everything wrong with Heiko. And now, Nicky. What's wrong with me? Any one of those guys was a prize and I fucked it up every time. Because I don't know what love is? Everybody else seems able to figure it out. Why can't I? I wish Nicky were here. I'd do it differently.
In the same twilight hour, LeJohn and Mario were walking through the park on the peninsula's ridgeline. Mario walked on the upslope and LeJohn beneath him, making them see almost eye-to-eye. The fog bank moved closer and closer off the ocean until fingers of fog appeared like wisps in the trees and still it came on, rushing over the hills, drawn by the temperature inversion.
“I can't believe how lucky I was to catch you when you tried to put yourself in orbit,” LeJohn said. It was an appreciation Mario had heard before; but he loved hearing it from LeJohn every time.
“It couldn't have worked out better if I had aimed,” Mario said. “First you caught me. Now I'd do anything for you.”
LeJohn got a devilish grin. “Yeah? What about those times you joked about giving me a blow job?”
“Here's the deal,” Mario proposed. “When we're sitting on a cloud in heaven, just the two of us, mostly naked in those short robes, with nothing to do, no harps to play, and our wings are tired, I'll give you a blow job. That's a promise, LeJohn. La más grande chupada.” A big blow job was Mario's commitment.
They walked farther into more fog. “You know, right here? This is kind of like heaven,” LeJohn said with a twinkle in his eye.
“And the fog is getting thick, like a cloud,” Mario added.
“No harps in sight,” LeJohn sighed.
“And my wings would be tired, if I had any,” Mario whispered and held his breath. He looked at his best friend, his near-brother, and eagerly responded to LeJohn's kiss. They kissed for a while and then some more. LeJohn put Mario's hand on his cock to demonstrate his readiness, but when Mario showed his willingness to begin, LeJohn stopped him.
“It's too cold; it's too wet; and we're on a slippery hill. I bet it would be a lot better if we tried this in your bed … naked … after some more of this kissing”
“Why didn't I think of that?” Mario asked. They walked silently with hastening steps back to Mario's room, pausing only when no one was around for another kiss.
“I bet you didn't think of this either,” Le John told Mario as he stripped him bare and led off the night of sword-swallowing. Nothing disappointed them; their love and enthusiasm made up of for an understandable lack of skill. After their first exchange, LeJohn couldn't contain himself. “I hope everybody can be as happy as I am right now.” He licked his lips clean of cum and kissed Mario, no longer his brother, but now his lover.
Darren got out of bed at nine. He could hear the television playing downstairs for Carolyn and Monica. He looked out his window, unable to sleep. He saw Roger and Josh drive their bikes slowly down San Antonio and then just past his house accelerate with a roar to make the light at Park Street. They had no idea what a difference that rush to make the green would have for Darren. For one thing he got no sleep at all as he accelerated through that night.
Early the next morning Darren pounded on the door of the little house, waking a couple neighbors. He yelled, “I AM GONNA LOVE YOU, NICKY, LIKE YOU”VE NEVER BEEN LOVED BEFORE. I AM GOING TO STAY WITH YOU AND FUCK YOU AND ...”
“Jeez, Darren!” Nicky opened the door and only his kiss could shut Darren up. “My neighbors are straight.”
“I”M NOT TRYING TO FUCK YOUR NEIGHBORS. I WANT YOU.”
“Get inside. You got me.”
“I'M NEVER LETTING YOU GO AGAIN. I'M ...”
Nicky put his hand over Darren's mouth, silencing him. He took his hand away to see Darren's reaction.
“I LOVE YOU, NICKY. I...” Nicky recovered Darren's mouth. Darren began nibbling on his fingers.
“Are you hungry? Just shake your head,” Nicky said, keeping his hand in place. Darren shook his head no. “Did you bring a bag?” Darren shook his head no again. “That's not very practical,” Nicky observed. Darren shook his head again. “But you love me?” Darren shook his head yes. “Are you going to keep yelling?”
A couple of hundred miles south in a neighborhood called Cleveland Park, in northwest Washington, Tom got up and began his day. Tom had thought - had hoped that he could stay with Brent but Brent had made other arrangements. He was living in a small apartment that was part of the old carriage house on a large estate. The apartment was perfectly adequate, very nicely furnished, in fact; and there were other tenants judging by various noises he heard.
Brent had warned that Washington weather was tricky and Tom wasn't sure what clothes to wear in early spring for his first day of work. So he went outside in a bathrobe to sample the weather. Suit jacket but no coat, he decided. As he turned to go back in, a young man emerged from the door.
“Hi, I'm Matt,” he introduced himself. He was wearing makeup, quite a lot of makeup for seven in the morning.
Another head appeared, this one without make up. “I'm Mike.”
Tom looked from one to the other. “Twins!”
“That's what everybody calls us. Can't imagine why.” Minus the makeup, they were identical.
Tom introduced himself to the twins, incredibly hot twins, looking at him as if every possibility was up for consideration. He squeezed his thumb against a fingernail. This was real. A broad smile spread across his face.
Matt explained his makeup saying he was going to the dress rehearsal of a play. “It's a tiny theatre, no dressing rooms.”
Mike invited Tom to have coffee. “Just go up on the porch. I'll be right there.”
Tom climbed the outdoor stairs to the roof of the two-story garage and saw a weathered wooden sign at the top. “Warning: Nude Beach. Clothing optional beyond this point.” He kept his bathrobe on and wondered what Mike would wear. He pushed aside the nagging thought that he needed to be at work at nine-thirty. That was more than two hours away.
There is no question that there are many places besides Alameda where genetic, social, and climatic diversities mix and produce interesting lives, where ecology in its broadest sense stirs the people pot. The world is a big place and, while Elgar's strains seldom remind us anymore, the land of hope and glory lies all around. Almost anywhere runaways can find homes; wasted lives can be made productive; and damaged and hurt people can find solace if not always love. It happens every day.
A close examination of events in the little house in Rockaway and the old garage in Washington will probably produce more remarkable tales of love and greed, satisfaction and broken hearts; but all those tales will benefit from the lessons learned and passed down by our two heroes from that small island in San Francisco Bay.
