Chapter Fifty-Eight - New Clothes
It was Lonnie who noticed first. “Racer, you can't wash your truck in good clothes. Here, try these shorts. What happened to the old shorts?”
“They were old; they, uh, fell apart.”
“Try these. Go change.”
The shorts he gave me were white polyester. They seemed sensible, waterproof, not too skimpy or tight, stretchy in the waist. I went back outside and Lonnie approved. I resumed washing the truck. “Stand back, Lonnie, the spray of this hose will get you.”
“No problem on a hot day like this.”
“Have to agree with you there.” It was hot and sunny; so I ran the stream of water over my heat and let it run down my body, cooling me off. “Virginia clay … The only thing worse is that red Georgia clay. The cinders on the track down there are thick and still that stuff just oozes up after a rain. It's a bitch to wash off. Gets everywhere.”
“Yeah ...” I don't think Lonnie heard a word I said. He was lost in some other world, watching me wash the truck and dreaming about life on another planet. “Yeah, well … don't stay too long in the sun,” he said, finally turning away and going into his place.
I finished up, dried the truck, and went inside to get cleaned up. I caught a look at myself in the bedroom mirror. The shorts weren't bad. They dried really fast. Nice fit. Who ever expected that from Lonnie? I'd have to find a way to repay him. Maybe I could ask Euie what he likes.
When I got to Tommy Lynn's, it was Tommy Lynn himself who took care of me, showing me the status of my portfolio, as he called it. A third real estate, a third debt, and a third stocks. The stocks weren't anything I'd heard of like Dominion Power or CSX Railroad; they were ETFs, some kind of made up stock that represented other stocks. I say represented because apparently there weren't any actual other stocks, just some New York company's promise to pay. I'm not one hundred percent comfortable with that, but Tommy Lynn said not to worry.
“Racer, there's a cash balance in your account, if you feel like spending some of it.”
“I'm good. I don't need anything right now, except maybe a new pair of shorts for washing my truck.”
“What you need is a new expensive girl friend … or boy friend … Somebody to spend money on. Trust me. It's fun.” He laughed in serious way, they way people do when they give you advice they wish they were following themselves.
“Right now I'm single, which is probably best since I travel so much.”
“The right person would travel with you,” he commented. “Seriously, get a check from George, Have a time for yourself. You can afford it.”
I went to the reception area to look for George or Euie or Mac. It occurred to me that Mac was new; maybe he can't write checks yet. “I'm the only one who can write checks,” George said when I found him. Mac was in the next room singing some song or other under his breath.
“Why the frowny face, George? Tommy Lynn and Mac seem up today.”
“That's because Tommy Lynn fucked Mac or vice versa or some damn thing. How much money do you want?”
“How much do I have?”
“Don't you READ your statements? Why do you think we send them?”
“George, you are hurting, aren't you?” I tried my best to sound sympathetic.
“Everybody fucks my boyfriends except me! That's why I'm pissed off.”
“I could be your pretend boyfriend. I like fucking you.”
“DON'T JOKE, RACER!” He looked up and his eyes were bloodshot. From drinking? Crying? Summer allergy?
“You want to come have lunch with me?” He said no to that and printed out a check that I had real idea what to do with. I decided getting a TV to replace the one B. J. took might be a good idea and went to the Subway to grab a sandwich. I said hey to Jared and ordered a chicken six-incher. He snorted at the term six-incher.
“I hear you put your twelve-incher into my boyfriend yesterday.” It sounded like he was challenging me to deny it.
“It's not twelve inches,” I answered. “D. J. said you two were kinda done.”
“Really? He said to me that I needed to step up my game.” Another challenge that I didn't get.
“I'm sorry. I didn't know that was an issue. I don't remember you having fidelity issues before.”
“That's because I was the one fucking around. I KNOW it doesn't mean anything when I do it; but D. J. gets all hung up over guys. Especially ones with big dicks. I tell him it's just an ass they're fuckin' but he says it's more than that.” He had to end the discussion because another customer came in.
“We had a couple of drinks. It seemed like a good idea ...” I told him in the way of an apology. He just glared back at me; and a glare from a redhead can be pretty menacing.
“Tube steak on toast,” the customer ordered with a satisfied grin. Jared's hot glare shifted from me to the new customer. “Jeez, don't you remember? Two nights ago?” the innocent voice followed up.
“Oh … right,” Jared said, sounding more or less dubious. “Twelve inch or six?”
“Gimme all you got!” came the boisterous reply.
“Right! Now I remember ...” Jared muttered with a sheepish glance at me.
I ate in the truck and drove to Gainesville where there was Best Buy. Got a fifty-incher with a promised delivery of that afternoon since the set was in stock and a truck was loading right then. Perfect. I drove home to wait and decided to polish the truck. It didn't need washing since the morning, but the shine was a little dull on the right side. I need to pay more attention to the right side because it's the one I seldom see. I worked myself into a sweat in no time; the perspiration was pouring down and I was tempted to get out the hose anyway. As I was almost finished I saw Mrs. Lucketts coming toward me.
“Racer, you are a scandal,” she said, semi-laughing a little nervously. “The old shorts were playfully lascivious, dear. These are pornographic! I have to insist you clothe yourself, hon. People can see you from the main street!” She pointed at two giggling school girls, who fled when they saw they had been noticed. I still didn't get her point. “Your shorts are utterly transparent!” she added.
“I'm almost finished.”
“Two minutes,” she insisted as she walked off.
I hurried with the rear fender and went inside before the shorts had a chance to dry. A check in the mirror said Mrs. Lucketts was right. I kept looking, thinking I looked pretty hot under the slightly blurring transparency of Lonnie's shorts. Is that normal for a dude to think he's hot? The longer I looked at myself the more my dick filled out. Alright, enough of that! I took a quick shower and toweled off; mostly dry, I lay down to cool my body. In the slight breeze my nipples perked up. That was a first. I touched them and immediately got a full erection. That was amazing! I guess I could have kept playing with myself. I had nothing else going on that day, but touching myself brought back thoughts of B. J. and the way he used to touch me and I GOTTA STOP thinking about him. A knock on the door brought me to my senses.
I scrambled into some clothes and let in the TV installer. Now I know all the stories about amorous cable guys and that, but this dude was no prize at all, except as a TV installer. A beer gut and a fat butt crack when he bent over - that doesn't hold my attention. In any case he was all business. He hooked up the set, cleaned up the packing material, and left me with a new remote in my hands and a bunch of paperwork I would never read. I pushed 'Power” and watched the set come to life. It showed a beer commercial, which reminded me I was time for my afternoon vodka. Well, maybe a little early. I briefly wondered if I should really be drinking alone; but, come on! One drink? I thought some more and decided to make it orange juice; it was barely five o'clock.
I sat on the porch sipping and watched Euie get out of his odd-looking car, one of those Asian space oddities. He waved and pointed to his passenger. A larger man emerged and it took me a minute to recognize Mac Bacon. Now that was a surprise. Maybe Lonnie likes groups.
“What are you drinking?” Euie yelled and grimaced when I told him. “Wait. We'll be right there.” It wasn't right away, but maybe twenty minutes later the two of them, much more casually dressed in shorts and t's, walked over with a pitcher and glasses. “Try this!” Euie said. He held the pitched ready to pour. It was slightly sweet, very smooth, and definitely alcoholic. “Charleston Light Dragoon Punch! Nice, huh? Got it out of Garden and Gun Magazine.” He sat on the floor opposite me. His dick was hanging out of the loose leg of his shorts. He had to know it.
“Euie, put that thing away!” Mac admonished. “We don't want Racer thinking we're total pervs.”
“Show him yours. He'll know he's got nothing to worry about,” Euie challenged and tugged at Mac's shorts; but the shorts stayed in place. “That's no fun. I thought you were wearing the stretchy ones. Which reminds me … Why aren't you wearing the white ones, Racer?”
“Mrs. Lucketts banned them. She said they turn transparent when they get wet.”
“Yeah. That's what Lonnie said. I bet George would like to see you in 'em.”
“About Lonnie … I thought you and he were ...”
“Fuck buddies; but ... when Lonnie's working late sometimes Mac comes over.”
“Euie and I are not fuck buddies,” Mac inserted. “We are co-workers.”
“Who fuck sometimes.” Euie rolled his eyes at Mac. “Racer, understands, Mac. He's not stupid.”
“I never said he was. I just thought we were going to keep that stuff quiet.” Mac sat on the floor next to me and sipped his drink.
Euie laughed and in the process spread his legs. His dick fell out of the shorts again. Mac and I watched him try to tuck in back in. It resisted being put away. He shifted across the porch and sat on my other side. He playfully lay his head on my shoulder. “This way you can't see. Mac, a refill please?”
“George is pissed,” I told them. “He says everybody fucks his boyfriends except him.”
“Well … since Mac got nailed by Tommy Lynn – AGAIN, thank you - I guess that's kind of true.”
“Euie makes me out to be the slut. I'd do George if he'd make a move. But he never does. He expects me to figure out what he wants.”
“Yeah, Racer. You're his friend. Tell him to show some interest. I get the feeling he wants to … but he doesn't. He adores you, you know. All you have to do is smile at him and he sighs for a week.” Euie thought for a second and continued. “First George was nuts about you, Racer, then me, then Mac, and meanwhile he and Tommy Lynn are sleeping together four nights a week and God knows what Tommy Lynn is doing the rest of the time. It can't be Mac every night. I tell you, if I weren't gay, I'd have been out of that place soooo fast … except I AM learning tons of good stuff.”
“Like how to open a condom without using your hands?” Mac suggested.
“Like investment strategy and financial vehicles!” Euie shot back. “And the condom thing ...” he added. “Without hands, it takes a partner,” he explained for my benefit. “Also,” he aimed at Mac, “I have learned the limits of my dick and your fat ass.” He poured himself another glass and amplified. “You see if I stick my dick in between Mac's cheeks, by the time I hit his hole I'm running out of hose, if you know what I mean.”
“I get it,” I told him.
“Now, George says YOU wouldn't have that problem.” Euie looked at me very earnestly.
“What do y'all talk about at work anyway?” That kind of talk would never occur in a NASCAR pit.
“No, you wouldn't have a problem.” I felt fingers touching my cock and turned to Mac, who was REAL close. So close we kissed. Lightly. Briefly. “I'm thinkin' you have hose to spare.”
Euie resumed. “So we were thinkin' … you know … maybe we could ...” Euie still had that earnest look in his eyes.
“This was really Euie's idea,” Mac said. “But not a bad one.” His hand stayed on my cock, which involuntarily flexed. “Is that a yes? It feels like a yes.” Mac licked the corner of my mouth. Was I drooling or something?
“The three of us?”
“We could go to Lonnie's or …”
“Let's go inside.” I was not only easy with this, I was eager. Euie was tugging on my shorts the minute we got inside. Mac pulled a condom out of his pocket and showed it to me.
“Want to learn how to open it without using your hands?” he asked.
Turns out it's not really that hard to do, except I giggled a little. Euie's blowjob was tickling.
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