Southern California in the late eighties was good and bad.
Waves of crack rolled through every section of the population causing new funerary trends and memorial services without end. AIDS devastated communities and woke people up to the fact that the line between gay and straight wasn’t so clear and moved more often than the tides. Strange schemes and liaisons came to the fore educating the world further on the how confused and evil humans can be.
But, hey – the weather was perfect and the playground of Tijuana was a quick trip on the trolley, Black’s Beach was always open and the Padres were doing okay.
During that same time, I held a great job – plenty of work in the educational field before ‘balloon payment’ loans hit – then the housing market collapsed, along with the county revenues. Cuts were looming in all county services – the school district began tightening their belts and reducing the staff but they kept me on as one of the newer employees.
The bar scene changed in my favorite haunts – the violence against the gay community increased and a small but potent group of neighbors began patrolling the areas around the bars and hang-outs gathering information to quell the hate crimes.
My sex life halted all together. Well, there were a few enticing, heated moments, and I let them pass to keep myself established in a pricey and employment-dicey area. Maybe it was the generalized anxiety in a military town, but I felt as though things were running a little too fast and loose for the working chumps like me.
* * *
“Fast and loose” happened in the parking lot of the public school where I worked. A couple of the high school students decided to get high during lunch and turn some wheelies in the parking lot to impress the girls. The tail end of the car spun around and hit me as I went to my car for lunch. I only remember waking to see an EMT sweating over my head and pushing on my chest.
Insurance forms. Pain.
Doctors. Pain.
Hospitals. Pain.
Surgery. Pain.
Therapy. Pain.
Lawyers. A necessary pain in the butt.
Disability. Pain.
Weak as a new-born kitten, on too many meds and sick most of my days, I stayed just that way after the settlement was completed two years later. My once trim body was lumpier now, sported a small paunch and my handsome, squared face was pudgy making me look older. One of the medications caused my dark, thick wavy hair to thin. Damn! I wasn’t ready for all that, and I was still among the living with a few extra pieces of metal slipped into my spine.
* * *
An old friend, Faith kept in contact through that major life disruption. We’d gone to college together – met in classes. She dropped out her sophomore year so very bored yet did well despite her lack of Greek mythology. Faith was from a very wealthy family who supported her in her freelance music career. Although Faith was a mediocre singer, she could play the piano well and got plenty of gigs up and down the coast – mostly lounges, women’s retreats, new age events and small ‘alternative’ festivals.
Ever-faithful Faith called me every week. She was into herbal treatments, ayurvedic whatever and brought herbs and vitamins along with fresh fruit on Saturday afternoons. She kept coming when my other friends abandoned me. Sometimes she brought her son, a funny kid who wanted to jump on the bed and tell me about his days. The kid even touched along my scars and felt the heads of the screws. I told him I was bionic, “Superhuman now, so watch out!” Then I tickled him hard.
He was like a cricket, chirping and jumping around looking at everything – nosy little fart at seven years old – already a handful and a half. The kid told me he wanted me to call him Geronimo, of all things; his mother let him pick his names as he grew. I believe he was born ‘Edward, the first beloved grandchild who will inherit all the money.’ He let me call him ‘Ger.’
Being around that capricious little spirit always made me smile. Best medicine in the world for a heavily-medicated man on the edge of severe depression – starting a new lifestyle and trying to avoid the walker and wheelchair.
* * *
It was a Wednesday when Faith called and asked if I had too much pain to help her with her son. “Pete’s on assignment this weekend in Riverside and I’m going to Santa Barbara to work a club. Could you come and watch Ger? He got into some nettles up in Alpine. Nothing serious.”
Faith had kept an eye on my progress – she checked the labels of my medications and how many I’d taken during the week, encouraging me to reduce them as soon as I could. I started cutting them in half, then I took them only as needed. That helped lift my depression and shortened my day naps – I actually started cleaning up and puttering around the house and even walked down to the library every week. Soon, I was chatting with neighbors in the hallway and my world slowly began change colors from ‘hospital pastel’ to a fuller palette of life.
Friendship or wisdom, that was an invaluable nudge she gave me that improved my life – that and her chirpy son. Maybe I needed to feel needed by someone and regain a crumb of self-respect. Mostly, I felt indebted for all of her attention during my convalescence. “Sure. But you have to answer if I call. I don’t know much about kids and nettles – I’m a Math teacher not a medic.”
“I’ll answer. But he’s past the worst of it, and he takes care of himself for the most part. Come by early on Friday – you can meet Peter.”
* * *
Packing a light bag full of pill bottles and a change of underwear, I caught the 113A and got off near their three micro-bedroom house on the edge of an old neighborhood and started walking through the subdivision built in the fifties when no one needed much space. It was only a couple of blocks, and the day was cool and bright.
“This might be fun—I could teach the kid Black Jack.” I thought as I walked to the door. “Kids need to understand how to calculate their odds to make good decisions.”
All the windows and the door stood open at the house, so I walked in, remembering that Faith was a little flaky; all organic, natural foods, and free-form parenting – very open and liberal. Faith didn’t seem to be into a lot of material things, only the necessities for her career and was generous with giving away what she didn’t need. But she could afford that philosophy, still receiving a generous allowance from her daddy.
The house was a half-mess. Clothes strewn here and there, kitchen was a wreck of dirty dishes, but not so much furniture – a baby grand stood proudly in the middle of the living/dining area and a bank of electronics along the wall; couch, table, chairs and not much else.
Once inside I spoke up. “Hey! Glen’s here!” I hit a few keys on the piano.
A man came out of the hallway wrapped in just a towel. “I’m Pete. Thanks for coming to help with the kid.”
“Yeah. Where’s the little guy?”
“Back yard. You’re the one who was in the accident – glad you’re doing okay.”
We talked for a few minutes and exchanged phone numbers while he stood there groping himself through the towel. “Just the kind of guy Faith would pick.” I thought. He had a red beard and long, pale golden hair and the guy was huge – tall, big-boned like a Nordic god. He was the opposite of Faith who had the petite body of an adolescent girl with dark, thick hair.
Before he went to dress, “By the way Glen, we have a renter in the garage – gal named Julie. She has kitchen and bath privileges. Don’t let her roam around, she’ll eat everything and take all Faith’s recording equipment – but she’s usually gone on weekends.”
“Okay.” I wondered about that, but I figured I’d call him if there was a problem.
He left about thirty minutes later after stuffing all kinds of technical equipment in his mini-van to document some speakers at a conference on linguistics.
* * *
Out in the back yard, I found Ger in a teepee-shaped affair made from dried cornstalks. Corn had been planted in a four-foot diameter circle – after the harvest of what looked like popcorn, the dried stalks were tied at the top. Ingenious.
“Ger! What’s up?” I hollered.
“You’re here!” He came hustling out from between the stalks in a pair of dirty shorts.
“My mom said you were going to spoil me the rest of the way rotten.”
“Yeah, but you have to spoil me, too. I can’t run and jump like you do.” I said. “Anything special you want to do this weekend?”
“We can go to the park… Um, ride my bike in the alley – Mom got three movies. But we can do anything you want – like go down to the school and play footy on Saturday. They have snow cones at the baseball field. We could go to the arcade in Mission Valley or the zoo, or the beach – that’d be great!” He knew his world well.
He chattered on about his favorite activities and I couldn’t believe how the kid glimmered with health – seven years old! Self-possessed, I think they call it and he stood there bright-eyed and barefooted, naked to the waist, dark hair shaggy and studded with twigs and grass articulating his pathways. His hands and face were dusty and his knees were grimy. My kind of boy!
I saw he had a micro-convoy of tiny metal cars inside the cornstalk hide-away and a ramp he’d made with rocks and twigs. Feet were dark with dirt and he was grinning as he explained how he’d rather be skating, but he took the wheels off and couldn’t get them back on the way he wanted.
I nodded, “How’s the skin problem? Do you need some medicine?” I asked.
“It’s okay.” He pushed his shorts down and showed me a small pink patch near his navel, “Almost gone.” I squatted looking closer—not much to see. Then, back to his cars inside the cornstalks. Seemed he only had a very light rash, and he wasn’t scratching. I’d look for some kind of ointment to put on it later.
“I’m going in to look around in the kitchen. Want something special for dinner?”
“Burgers and fries – can I have a pop?”
“What about the brown rice and endive? Your mom probably wants you to eat something healthy.”
“Please? Mom never lets me have anything good.” He grinned and shot me a coy look. “I got my own money and she won’t know…” He looked at me from under his thick, straight eyelashes.
“Okay, burgers and fries. I’m going in to put my stuff away. Come inside when you’re hungry.” The kid was slick, or maybe I was a pushover.
It took him about two minutes to buzz through the house with his box of toy cars and get his shoes on. I picked up a boy-sized tee shirt draped over a doorknob and snapped the crumbs off of it, “No shirt, no burger.”
He pulled it on while I closed up the house and locked all the doors except the back door in case the renter came in, though I hadn’t seen her. “You see Julie today?”
“It’s Friday – she’s gettin’ stoned with her boyfriends.”
Well, that was an enlightening comment. Taking a chance on Julie coming back before we did, we began walking the four blocks to the local burger joint. The little cricket devoured his food and most of my fries before I refilled our cups and we left for home. All along the way, he told me about the people he’d seen in the houses and their pets – I let him run ahead and run back, walk along the top of the retaining walls.
After a grease-laden dinner, and all the sugar-induced activity, I figured he’d be tired soon and go to sleep early. In the house, I began gathering up the flotsam of life starting a load of laundry and straightened up the kitchen, then took the trash out while Ger found his movies and brought pillows and blankets, a little slower and quieter with every step.
A minor verbal scuffle ensued when I took him to the bathroom to shower and brush. I conceded to a shower in the morning. I held firm with a tube of Faith’s licorice toothpaste in hand. We had to brush together, but that was accomplished quickly.
Licorice toothpaste? Yuk!
* * *
On the couch, the little bugger lay his head on my lap. We watched a cartoon musical with some snappy songs about a lion. Then the second movie, an historical drama about pioneering. Yeah, maybe I was nodding off, not a lot of action around whittling and washboards. Historical micro-conflicts occurred during the ‘pre-deodorant’ times – not my favorite period.
My eyelids became heavy, but snapped open when I heard footsteps on the patio and the back door slammed open. Ger didn’t move, emitting unbroken snores.
A wild-eyed woman with disheveled blue hair came in the backdoor, breathless and ran in front of us, “Gotta pee.” She stared at me for a moment as she passed.
“Must be Julie…” I thought, and hoped she’d filch the licorice toothpaste.
In the bathroom, I heard her open the old rusted medicine cabinet and curse a few words and slam it shut as she left. Stepping quickly, she went to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.
“Did you bring something to heat up?” I asked and put Ger’s head down on the couch, covering him.
“Get off my butt! You don’t live here.” She volleyed back.
When I went into the kitchen, I turned the light on to see that the long tee shirt she had tied in a knot over her hip sported a large blotch with what looked like blood across the front. A few spots dotted her arms and neck. I detected a whiff of raw meat.
“Is that blood on your shirt?” I asked – this was more than strange. “What happened? Are you okay?”
Julie stared at me for a moment – I could see her considering an answer through a drugged haze.
“Uh… A dog got hit in traffic; I picked him up and carried him to the esplanade.” She turned back to her scrounging in the refrigerator.
That explanation was a little too odd, so I grabbed an apple and a banana off the counter and handed them to her, “Time to go sleep it off.” I pointed at the back door and gave her a hard look. As she passed, I noticed she didn’t smell like dog, and there wasn’t any dog hair on her shirt. She smelled like blood and the bitter stench of meth and alcohol. Her eyes were bloodshot and she gave me a hard look at me as she left.
Didn’t want to know any more about Julie. I had a kid in my charge and wouldn’t tolerate any erratic behavior around him. So, I locked the back door after she left.
Back on the couch with Ger, I texted Pete and Faith telling them what happened and how I’d handled the affair. Then I got back up and locked all the doors and windows – Julie’d have to relieve herself in the yard and use the garden hose if she needed water that weekend. No responses from Pete or Faith.
Ger was sleeping deeply. I decided to snuggle in behind him not knowing what would happen next – thinking Julie could have someone with her for the evening and possibly cause a scene. I turned the light out and found a warm place behind the kid, pulling him close to me.
An unexpected reaction heated my groin, I was hot and full within seconds of feeling his rounded cheeks encased in the thin, stretchy material of his shorts. Slipping my sweat pants off with as little movement as possible, I enjoyed the feel of his short, warm cleft on the underside of my shaft. After several libido-numbed years on sedatives, the boy’s body felt good and I rubbed, barely hunching – only moving a quarter of an inch or so.
“This is my friend’s son!” I stopped – trying to calculate how many of my brain cells my medication had damaged. “Well he’s asleep, never the wiser.” Shifted my position and paused, then pushed my hips away a little, but the kid grabbed my hand!
“This.” He mumbled and shoved my fingers under the elastic band of his shorts to his package. Perplexing and exciting that I was invited to rub his very short, smooth stake; I obliged immediately.
Touching him carefully and lightly I found his rigid rod only slightly longer than the end of my thumb with a veil of a foreskin, then I gently found his tiny sac and squeezed. Such tiny testicles! Each minute egg was only slightly larger than my pain medication capsules. His foreskin was so soft and thin, I could hardly feel it. Ger’s hips jerked, and he breathed hard several times.
I was so aroused, my other hand went to my shaft and I tried pushing my anxious erection downward, wiping a trail of pre-cum on the kid’s shorts and scooched downward putting my erection between his legs. Hurriedly I focused again on taking the smooth, warm and silky penis between one finger and my thumb. His cocklet was simply an atom compared to the size of the universe, but it was the center of my world for those moments. He was breathing quickly with an occasional “nnng.”
With some fast calculations, I figured I was twenty-nine, and the kid was seven, so he would get about a quarter of my orgasm – 4.1428th to be exact, but his brain and body hadn’t fully developed so I became curious… Rubbing faster, he hunched once, snorted then, “Enough.”
Well, the kid felt something unquantifiable and very brief. Fractions or percentages won’t work in this situation; too many variables. I dozed off after several slightly licentious, but what felt like were normal male thoughts.
* * *
The next morning, I started washing a week of dirty dishes then found some oatmeal and raisins. As I read the instructions for whole-grain, non-instant oatmeal I watched a shiny black Mercedes with darkly tinted windows pull in the drive. Julie ran out of her apartment in a halter, sandals and a pair of very short shorts. Damn, she was skinny. Thankfully, she got in the car and left.
Well, that eliminated a lot of worry for me, Ger and I could play where we pleased and not have to worry about any chemically-induced interruption. I especially didn’t want him to see that bloodied outfit she wore the previous night.
Ger was still asleep, so I went to shower, and shave. The water felt good, though the tub boasted a thick matte finish of soap scum. With the warm water on my face, I began washing and felt hot water on the back of my leg. Turning around, there was Ger peeing on my calf and grinning.
“Get outta here!” I told him.
“No. Dad lets me shower with him and we always pee together.” Ger grabbed the soap and shoved me on the thigh. “Short people in front.” That knocked my morning jerk off out of my mind. I rinsed and got out quickly.
I shaved with a naked boy sitting on the toilet seat watching. I gave him some shaving cream to play with on the side of the sink. He made a fanciful row of animals, singing some of the phrases from the movie he’d watched. Glad I did the laundry the night before – I found him a clean pair of briefs and took him to the table for his oatmeal while I dressed.
“Did you like the movie last night – the one about the pioneers?” I asked.
“I was asleep. Can we watch tonight?”
“Sure.” I was curious. “By the way, does your dad rub your penis?”
“Sure. Mom and Dad and I sleep together – that’s how they used to put me to sleep before they got noisy.” He grinned.
“Noise happens…” I looked away realizing Faith was more liberal than I imagined.
* * *
We had a great day together, and I finally got a text message from Peter telling me he called Julie and told her to leave – she had to be packed and gone before he got home on Sunday.
“Ain’t that the shits?’ I shook my head. ‘Now, I’m going to have to put up with a moving truck and a bunch of guys led by an angry, evicted speed-freak.’ I texted Peter and asked him if he really wanted to evict her so abruptly.
“If you can pay her back rent, she’s probably good for a hot spin or two.” That was his reply! His personal relations weren’t my business, and I didn’t want to know any more.
The day went well enough on the play structure in the back yard and watching Ger ride his bike up and down the alley – no garbage trucks or deliveries on the weekends. Didn’t see Julie or anyone else Sunday, which was fine with me.
Late that evening, Peter took me home. I didn’t say anything about Julie; he didn’t either.
* * *
Being an educator and following the rules, I called Faith and ratted-out Ger. “He wanted me to rub his cock…” I explained the incident on the couch, sans my arousal.
She laughed! “That’s how Ger and Pete bond. I hope it didn’t upset you.”
“Nah, but it kind of surprised me. Just letting you know – don’t want the kid to try it with the wrong guy. Know what I mean?”
“Sure, but I don’t want him growing up to be inhibited about his body’s natural functions – I keep an eye on who he’s with.”
We talked for a while, and I asked about Julie, “Did she move out?”
“Yeah, it was sticky for a while – she was angry but called her friends with an old van and, well, she didn’t have much. I’m glad she’s gone – too much of a wild card with her and always wanting to pay her rent with drugs or something she couldn’t fence.”
* * *
Through the next several weeks, I occasionally babysat Ger for a few hours here and there. Sometimes I had dinner with Faith and Peter. We knocked back a few beers in the backyard when they weren’t working. Felt good to get out of the house and get back into the swing of life. The dinners Faith cooked usually sucked – just couldn’t get into her nutritional groove alongside her. Ger often balked at the menu as well, but we struggled through our meals of quinoa and collard greens with ‘yummy’ nutritional yeast dusted on the top.
A few days after our last dinner, Faith called and asked me to come stay the weekend again. She and Pete were taking a trip to Point Reyes in Morin County – she wanted to conceive her next child there.
No, I didn’t want to hear how she’d taken her vaginal temperature, and all the signs of ovulation, but she told me anyway. She said it was her unborn child’s spiritual juncture with mortal form. Whatever. I didn’t mind at all taking care of my favorite imp.
This time, Pete would leave me his van. I figured Ger and I could go down to the taco shop and the park but I hesitated about the zoo and the beach – too many people and I wasn’t back in top form yet.
* * *
That Friday, I came over with my bag and met a somewhat disgruntled Pete led by Faith to her van. He looked like he was being roped into something he didn’t fully agree to.
What did I care about their escapades between the sheets and their all-natural family planning? I got to cuddle with Ger undisturbed – Julie was long gone.
As Faith and Peter pulled out the drive – I immediately suggested that we go to the park. That got a great response, but another scuffle with shoes, socks and tee shirt.
We had a great time Friday evening. Ger made me push him on the swings then he puttered around on the soccer field with a few boys, and we stopped at the Mexican food joint on the way home for tacos and burritos. Back at the house we got ready to watch movies and relax.
No problem in the shower – he jumped in with me and I washed him down good with him giggling the entire time. He actually enjoyed my hands on his skin and hiked his leg up to the side of the tub so I could scrub in his most sensitive areas. Brushing wasn’t a problem either – I brought my own toothpaste. We both like mint.
I got the blanket and pillows, my salivary glands in overdrive and not over the full-length cartoon about a crab-fish friendship. On the couch, we snuggled together, me behind Ger again and remote in hand when he jumped up and came back quickly with a bottle.
“What’s this?” He handed a small bottle to me.
“Avocado oil. It’s all natural.” Ger shucked his briefs and got under the blanket with me. Well, that didn’t need any further explanation.
We started the movie, and I oiled his skinny, strait chest feeling his butt pressed into my rigid shaft. My fingers couldn’t get enough of his tiny sac – he liked me to squeeze and pull his tiny nuts, then press my fingertip between them. I was hard and oozing.
With two fingers, I grabbed his twig and stroked – opening and closing his tiny foreskin over his glans, then grabbing and squeezing his boy shaft in my fist. He enjoyed the squeezing combined with strokes. This time his hips hunched a few times before he enjoyed his brief orgasm.
My hand continued stroking, exploring his buttocks then further between his legs.
Yeah, that was the best cartoon ever when Ger lifted his leg to my thigh allowing me to oil that sweet, tender ridge running from the base of his penis to his hot, tight pucker. He didn’t even mind my fingers oiling his anus and rubbing there for quite a while.
No way would I allow the boy to become an inhibited, repressed slug not appreciating his natural bodily functions!
* * *
The next morning, we put our oatmeal in coffee cups and ate on the patio, discussing what we wanted to do.
“Let’s get naked and turn the hose on us!” He was finished his oatmeal and started dancing around on the patio in his briefs bouncing a small ball on the planks.
“We’ll save that for when it’s hot this afternoon. Let’s go to the library first, then the park, and get some junk for lunch – how about that? You want Mexican again? I love machaca burritos.”
Didn’t need to get the kid dressed – he was off in a flash. While he was dressing, I cleaned the kitchen then started a load of laundry – from the looks of the place no one could have had any clean clothes. Maybe they used the old air freshener trick. I could tolerate their mess for my evening reward.
At the library, I got a popular video about an extreme peach – better than pioneering. Ger met some of his friends from school on the parking lot of the park and they immediately stripped to the waist, shoes thrown aside and flew to the slides and swings.
Seemed like their moms were Faith’s friends from the rather liberal attachment-parenting group. Obviously, none of these children were inhibited about much. Some of the group played in only their underwear. Several toddlers played nearby completely naked and oblivious to the stares from other families. I joined the mothers at the side of the play area under the shade of a thick stand of eucalyptus; they gave me all kinds of strange parenting tips.
When a spat broke out on the slide, the mothers turned their heads, “Let them work out their own relationships.” I nodded, but kept an eye on Ger. Had to keep him in the best mood for my nocturnal entertainment.
Several of the moms went with us to the Mexican food place and we shared big burritos and iced tea. Sitting under a canopy beside the restaurant with the gaggle of nursing moms was delightful. I kinda liked that – strong, beautiful children raised at their mothers’ teats. Some of the kids were almost five years old and still nursing. I only grinned seeing the mothers weren’t ageist with their body’s natural functions.
* * *
Finally, we got back home and Ger ran for his bike. I followed him to the alley with an old aluminum tubing and plastic web lawn chair and sat outside the gate of their six-foot cedar fence and watched him ride up and down the long block, gliding down the short rise then pumping red-faced back toward me.
The alley was one, dirt-lane wide with a four-foot easement on each side where people sat their trash, recycling containers and junk they left out for the pickers. When a car came down the alley, Ger knew to go to the side and wait for it to pass then he could get back on his bike. He’d been good about it so far, still I watched.
I sat watching him wait at the bottom of the slope when an old white Econoline van pulled in the alley – looked like some pickers searching for anything that might be worth a few bucks. Recycled copper and aluminum prices were up, so was glass.
Ger pulled his bike near the fence to let the van pass, standing by several trash cans. The van moved slowly approaching Ger. The passenger door opened, and a man got out. I figured he was going to check the trashcans, but he didn’t – looked like he was speaking to Ger. Ger’s face looked up at him – then he looked my way and pointed at me.
It took about half a second for the man to grab Ger and toss him into the van. I jumped up! “Hey! Stop!”
Grabbed the lawn chair and ran toward the van screaming. As it approached me, I threw the lawn chair toward the grill of the van, hoping it would pop a hole in the radiator or get caught and flatten a tire, then have to stop, but it didn’t!
It speeded up. Damn!
Crossing the alley as it neared, I jumped at door latch—hoping to pull Ger out. But that didn’t happen. The van stopped suddenly, screeching the tires on the dusty lane. The driver got out, cool and completely unruffled. Walked around to me as I tugged on the door of the passenger side. Turned me by my shoulders and cold cocked me. Just like that! He knocked me down in the powdery dirt and weeds. My nose was bleeding, but I wasn’t in too much pain, not yet. Adrenaline kept me alert, I tried to leave, but his left hand still held me by my shoulder.
“Him, too!” The passenger called out. The passenger and another man quickly dragged me to the side door and tossed me in the back with Ger.
From there, it was a fiasco of bodies, I struggled to grab Ger and get him toward the back door, maybe I could open it with my foot and jump out with him. But there was another man in the back who had already duct-taped Ger’s arms to his sides. The passenger and the man in the back held me down and started taping me but not without a struggle as the van shot out of the alley.
Ger and I started screaming. Several filthy shop rags were stuffed in our mouths and secured with torn strips. They stripped my tee shirt off my chest, cut it in half and tied it over our heads – couldn’t see a thing.
Concentrating on the sway of the van I tried to get a fix on where we were going. The driver and his cohorts played rock music for about an hour, I smelled weed and pee and some strange chemicals I couldn’t identify. I felt dampness at my groin – Ger must have had an accident in the melee of being bound and gagged – that accounted for the smell of urine. But the other smells weren’t from any place I could pinpoint – but they were a wretched mix; filthy bodies and chemicals.
I could feel Ger’s soft skin on my thigh. He moved around sometimes, so he must be okay after our abrupt removal and rough treatment.
Sure, I thought about kidnapping – but who’d want me? I’d only be extra baggage – that gave me a chill. I could understand taking the boy, yet he didn’t look special – no blazer with a school insignia; no slick haircut or jewelry. Living in an old house without a maid to keep it and a ragged old guy babysitting him – we didn’t look like we were worth a flip! Was this a kidnapping? Maybe we were being sex trafficked; but why was I taken? Would they harvest my kidney or liver?
My phone was in my pocket – maybe Faith or Peter would call. They could get the state cops into action—that Amber Alert thing. But they hadn’t called, in fact no one had called.
Noticing the change in the air that blew through the windows of the van changed, it was becoming hotter and dryer – I realized we were on our way to the desert. When I heard the tires slow their whine on the asphalt, and felt the van turn to the right, I knew we had to be around fifty to seventy miles outside the suburbs. Then the van slowed to crawl along a rutted and I suspected a dirt road. Rocks hit the oil pan and under carriage often.
Dust flew in from the windows and the scent of piñon at sunset.
The van stopped and the three men got out, talking softly among themselves and wandered off. They’d left us alone, and we couldn’t do anything… I started humming – that was all I could do and tried my best to remember some of the songs from the cartoons we’d watched together – it didn’t help.
* * *
Ger and I lay tied, gagged and blinded for another hour I guessed. The air was cooler around us, though the floor of the van was still warm. The sun had set – no more light could filter through the cotton knit tied over our heads.
Finally, we heard footsteps coming toward the van and the door squeal open. The men didn’t say anything, but I felt Ger’s body being pulled toward the open door and he was taken away; muffled screams and then several slaps followed by Ger’s stifled whines.
The footsteps walked across gravel until I couldn’t hear them anymore.
It was much cooler when the footsteps returned to the van. The door squeaked opened again and I felt a tug at my ankles and the duct tape stripped then they stood me to walk between two men that stunk as if they hadn’t bathed in days – smelling like something metallic and I detected stale beer on them. Odd smells – sick smells but the sweet smell of the desert plants. The ground was still giving off heat, and the breeze was much cooler. I was hustled between them and found myself shoved inside a door, then pushed inside and down seven narrow wooden steps into some place that smelled like sawdust and machine oil. The air was still around me.
Soft, short grunts came from my left – must be Ger. Still standing, I felt the tip of a knife blade under my shorts, cutting the material away, then the shirt came off my head.
The men mumbled to each other – I couldn’t understand them. One laughed and flicked the point of the knife on my foreskin; a rush of sweat oozed from my entire body. Ger’s clothes were cut off him quickly and the two men inspected his tiny pecker which had almost receded into his belly looking like he had two navels.
Another person came down the stairs bumping something along the way – it was an old straight-backed chair – ancient wooden chair, chipped and battered with a canvas sling where a woven seat had been. I was shoved backward into the wooden chair that swayed when I sat on it.
I looked around to see the three skinny, stinking men who’d grabbed us when they flipped on the single, bare lightbulb hanging above. Each wore a baseball hat and had tied a bandana on the lower part of his face. One wiry guy had what looked like a fuzzy, grayed jailhouse tattoo peeking out from under his shirtsleeve. It read “Bad Ass,” but someone had cut five scars onto it so it read, “Bad A$$.” His knuckles sported grayed, fuzzy letters I couldn’t make out.
One had a knife, the other a gun. The nasty-looking guy with the gun pointed it at me and signaled the others to free my hands. The barrel was in my face. Sure, I stayed still – I couldn’t let anything happen that would leave Ger alone with this crew. They retied me onto the chair, my arms behind the back of the chair and my knees spread, my calves and ankles tied to the front legs of the chair, then my torso and neck tied to the back of the chair. Still gagged, but now I could see what was going on.
The other man walked underneath the bare bulb and showed the men what was in my pockets – wallet, phone, keys and a half-eaten bag of peach-flavored jelly candies. Damn if he didn’t start eating my candy with his filthy fingers. Hoped he got sick.
Then, they brought Ger, stripped naked and tied him on my lap, strapping his arms to his sides and legs along mine with his knees splayed widely.
One of the scraggly men fiddled with my phone for a while until he could take a photo.
The other squatted in front of me and held a knife at Ger’s balls. That tiny, tender sac that I’d oiled and stroked. I froze thinking he might slip with the blade.
They’d left the gag in Ger’s mouth, but he was squirming and grunting on my lap. I felt the cleft of his ass rubbing against my groin. Dammit! I started getting hard in the middle of a kidnapping with guns and knives – shit! With my glans sticking to the side of Ger’s balls, and the point of the knife lifting Ger’s foreskin, the guys laughed and snapped several pics.
“Castration works faster than a finger or a toe.” One of them muttered and glanced at my face. “We take one ball at a time, but usually the cash appears instantly. Like hitting the jackpot, just a quarter inch cut on the bottom. Just one drop of blood….”
I saw them send the photos to Faith, giggling and snorting all the while. Then they followed the photo with a text. I wondered if Faith and Peter had their phones on while their yet-to-be-conceived child was meandering toward earth. Somebody tell that baby not to come to this mortal realm!
Our captors went upstairs, shutting the light off and leaving Ger and me strapped together in the hard, wooden chair with only moonlight from a small, high window. My eyes began adjusting to the dark and I was able to see a few details around the room.
* * *
Not much later, we heard a car horn outside, tires on the rocky land and footsteps on the floor above us. A woman’s voice was shrieking, “He’s not the dad – he’s just some guy… He’s the fucking babysitter! You weren’t supposed to get him – didn’t I tell you what his dad looks like?”
“Julie’s voice!” Though I’d not heard much from her, there was a high-pitched cussing and scuffling upstairs. Sounded like her, and sure sounded like she was brain-squeezing on amphetamines again.
“Shit, I already called Doc – he’ll be here tomorrow at noon. They won’t care about that ape, only the kid!” She screamed. “Can’t you do anything right?”
“The kid looks like him – dark hair and all.” A male voice responded while the woman’s voice continued cursing and demeaning the intelligence of the men. “I thought we’d ask for double the ransom…”
Another male voice jumped in the conversation, “Hey, you were going to let me cut ‘em! I brought my straight razor and soldering iron.”
“Soldering iron? You gonna re-wire them first?” Julie screamed, “Complete some kind of circuit?”
“Just in case I have to close a bleeder. Cloterize the wound – you know… Don’t want ‘em bleeding out.”
“Cloterize? I’d cauterize your ass but you’re full of shit already…” I heard things being thrown around and more footsteps above us; fists slapping against flesh – full-fledged knock-down, drag-out fight going on above us.
“Get outta here – you fucked up everything.” Julie was yelling and I heard more footsteps and bodies hitting the walls. She was probably shoving them toward the door.
The third male voice spoke up. “We took the guy because he looked like the kid – easy mistake, but we’ll fix it.”
“That’s because his mom is dark. Crap! You just fucked-off your cut!”
“We can leave his body on the desert – south of the springs where we put that other guy…” The man with the soldering iron said and I remembered they had a gun. Breaking glass and heavy objects hit the floor. I heard a few things hit the wall and more footsteps for a while, then the smell of alcohol and weed as the door slammed shut. Our addicted kidnappers obviously got things wrong – they wanted Peter and Ger or just Ger.
Rock music started up after I heard the old van start and drive away, spraying gravel as it left suddenly.
* * *
The small, limp body strapped to me had relaxed, Ger was dozing. In the stark, dim light I studied the area closely for anything to help us get out of this situation. Figuring I had several hours while our hosts sharpened their cerebral cortices with chemicals, I began a systematic review of every bit of trash and junk close by.
Smells of grease and graphite filled the space alongside my sweat. There was a workbench with tools scattered about, but it was ten feet away. Hedge clippers and pruning shears hung on the wall, well out of reach. The room wasn’t finished – no drywall so the spaces between the studs were converted to shelves here and there holding old cans of paint remover and odd jars of nails or screws.
I examined each nook and cranny the best I could from my perspective and espied a small bit of metal on an improvised ledge nearby. It was in the shadows – I could barely make it out, but it appeared to be a device I’d seen in a used military supply shop. I’d only seen one in my lifetime, but remembered it clearly—simple design, stripped of any elaboration. Clever tool.
Maybe it was simply hopeful imagining, but it was close and it was metal. It looked like small folding metal can-opener that soldiers used to carry during the war to end all wars – just two small pieces of steel held by a swiveling brad. Unfolded, it was almost two inches long, but long enough, I hoped. If it was one of those antiquated openers, it had a short half-inch blade – sharp enough to cut tin, and possibly keen enough to saw through the ropes binding Ger and me.
Tensing all the muscles in my legs and arms, I found a little slack in the rope – these guys were too cheap or lazy to cut the rough sisal cords for every binding. Every good scout knows the longer the length of rope the more slack it carries when tied. I kept wiggling and loosening the knots slightly with each tensing – but only by fractions of an inch.
Leaning forward, I folded Ger’s body tightly, but I was able to balance myself and move closer to the wall by slightly lifting the chair. Inching along by leaning and lifting the chair in small increments, I neared the wall as quietly as I could. Ger, it seemed was almost helping me by relaxing his body and doubling himself without resistance.
Nearing the ledge, I turned the chair to get my hand close enough. “Almost… Don’t slip up now, old man – this is a long shot, and maybe the only shot. One in at least one-hundred thousand to one…” I calculated.
The old chair squeaked and groaned lightly and I was dripping with sweat, sticking Ger’s skin to mine. Carefully and slowly I leaned back close enough to put my thumb on the small metal device and dragged it to the edge of the two-by-four and into my palm. Luckily, I didn’t find a scorpion or a spider as my fingers examined the can-opener and I tried opening the blade, pushing through years of rust but I had an adrenaline rush, or maybe that was our odds changing through a celestial spark.
The music above us droned on, but the footsteps quieted. But I didn’t stop moving the chair back to the original place, in case our captors returned. When I heard a knocking above us, I froze for a moment. Then, I recognized the sound of a headboard beating its primal rhythm on a bedroom wall. Julie and one of the men were upstairs goin’ at it.
That let me know I had a least an hour to work on cutting us free while the partiers were engaged, then they’d probably sleep.
* * *
Whoever was upstairs didn’t bother to use the toilet – or maybe the old abode didn’t have running water – either way, I stayed perfectly quiet as I listened to a male leave the house and whiz on the side of the building, watching as his feet stumbled past the small window over the workbench. Now, I was sure that there was at least one male with Julie upstairs. Good information – then, did he have a gun?
One small strand of tightly wound hemp at a time, I began scraping the rope loose. Still dripping sweat, I kept short sawing movements going. Finally, I felt one rope loosened, and I felt the binding relax around my wrists and Ger. I drew a deep breath through my nose – the only piece of rope I could cut was the right one. A few minutes later, I was pulling loops and knots loose until Ger fell forward away from me.
“Be very quiet.” I took off his gag and finished loosening and pulling the ropes away. As I wound the rope around between the crook of my thumb and my forearm making a skein of sisal and we looked at each other’s naked bodies in the dim light. It was that moment I felt a wave of protective feelings for him – he seemed so small. Now, I had to focus on getting us out of this basement and to some place safe – but where?
Grabbing the shreds of our tee shirts and stuffing some of the rags inside our shoes, I looked around the room. We had to get out of that basement. Then, I grabbed a book of matches I’d seen on the workbench and tucked the can opener inside the cardboard cover, the bundle of rope and motioned for Ger to follow me.
Instead of using the creaky stairs, I shoved him through the small window and followed him to find ourselves under a clear, starlit sky in cold air. I kissed his sweet lips and saw tears streak down his cheeks in the dim light, then I put my index finger over his lips telling him to stay quiet.
We walked away from the house on the rough ground until we were on the other side of an old broken down and rusted hulk of a pick-up truck. As I tied his shoes on him and inspected him for any breaks or bleeding. “Do you hurt anywhere, like inside your body or on your head?” I whispered into his ear. I didn’t know if he’d been hit or kicked after he’d been taken out of the van.
He shook his head, trembling but okay. I knew he was thirsty and probably hungry. With the strip of cloth from his gag, I tied it around his hips and found a way to cover his package with one of the rags from his mouth.
* * *
Looking around the horizons, there was a distant glow behind the foothills – that might be El Cajon. Then I found Venus and figured we were about three or four days walk, but that would be impossible in the heat of the desert with no food or water. I looked down at Ger who had his arms around my bare leg and his head on my hip. He’d never make it, and I couldn’t carry him that far.
Without enough cloth to cover myself, I tied a rag around my cock and balls and tried to cover my privates. We were mostly covered, but only in the front; and we had shoes.
* * *
How to get help? Burning the house down might work, but that was iffy. We could be shot while we waited for the fire department came – but I wasn’t sure if there was a fire department out here. I climbed on top of the pick-up truck to scan the horizon for a highway – any kind of lights close by – a road or highway with a few headlights.
Nothing but more darkness. I figured we were at least seventeen miles from any kind of help, and I wasn’t about to go into the house where the two were sleeping – too risky. I stepped back down, assessing what transportation we did have available. Maybe a bike or, I’d steal a car. Then I saw exactly what we needed – a Mercedes. Had to wonder if that was the same car that pulled in the drive at Ger’s house… Hmmm.
Crouching down, “We’re going to get in the trunk of that black Mercedes. We’ll have to stay very quiet and still until we get back into town. Can you do that? Can you be brave and stay quiet like a mouse? Really, really quiet and still for a long time?”
He looked at me and nodded. Pinching the skin on the back of his hand, I saw he wasn’t too dehydrated yet – his smooth skin flattened out again almost immediately.
We approached the Mercedes, and I saw it was left unlocked – but I was sweating again hoping there wouldn’t be any kind of alarm or beeping when I opened the door. All was quiet as I opened the door. Before I touched anything on the dash, I lit a match and searched for the lever that would pop the trunk open and pulled it.
The lid of the trunk slowly rose. It was a dangerous move, because I didn’t know what was in there, but I lit another match and saw only a tool kit and a few empty plastic shopping bags. I took the bags out and knotted them together to shore my loincloth affair and looked down at Ger.
“Do you know I love you?” I whispered and picked him up grabbing his ribcage. As I lifted him into the trunk, “It’s gonna get hot as hell, probably, but I’ll be right beside you. We gotta get back to town where someone can help us.”
He kissed my cheek as our faces passed. “Are we going to die?”
“When we’re old, sure. For right now, we’re going to stay quiet and get away from these people.”
“They’re Julie’s friends. I’ve seen them before – they came to help her move.”
“Don’t say that again until you see your parents or the police. We don’t know who our friends are.” Tossing the rope in the trunk I scanned the area again.
I lit another match to see where the handle was to open the trunk before I pulled it down. The can opener I tucked into the book of matches and kept them in a fold of the plastic bag. Complete darkness enveloped Ger and me as we lay a thin carpet, both of us in concentric positions. I snuggled as far back as I could toward the over the rear axle hoping there wasn’t much change in the lines of the car. But if the owner was as stoned as the others were last night, I doubt if he’d notice.
* * *
Ger and I were comfortable enough through next several hours, but we could tell when the sun rose. The trunk sealed snugly and the small space warmed quickly, but we stayed still, listening for someone to approach the car.
Ger’s body became extremely relaxed when the air super-heated. I was alert and heard footsteps nearing the car – just one person. There were pauses and I felt the car shake as they sat in the driver’s seat and turned on the radio and air conditioner. Then, I heard him on his cell phone, but I couldn’t make out the conversation. I was sure no one had been to the basement yet to check on their hostages or all hell would have broken loose already. “Doc” wasn’t coming till noon.
Amazingly, we drove off! Down the dirt road to the highway and drove for quite a distance, but I couldn’t tell if we were going east or west – I’d gotten turned around somewhere, and probably was dehydrated. Then I recognized the slowing and swerve of an on-ramp then the driver cruised a smooth road rapidly. This guy must have been going eighty-five or ninety miles an hour with the radio on smooth jazz. My stomach felt funny when he was on the downhill.
About forty-five minutes later, he slowed, exited the freeway and made a few brief stops. He was somewhere with stop signs or traffic lights. I could hear the engines of other vehicles close by then he slowed and made a hard turn then began driving very slowly and made another sharp turn. Then another, seemed like there were no other cars around.
Couldn’t tell if he was at a residence, a strip mall, gas station but he came to a full stop. Ger was awake, but his body was limp. I covered his face with my hand to feel if his eyes were open. His eyelashes fluttered against my palm and his lips kissed the heel of my hand. Pulling him hard against me, I kissed his hair, then moved my hand to his sweet package and squeezed his kit gently.
After the driver shut the door, I counted his steps until I couldn’t hear them. Thirty-three steps – about a hundred yards away and not slowing down so I mentally counted out another two minutes. My fingers felt for the latch to open the trunk, and I pulled on it. Nothing. Shit! We could die in this trunk.
I pulled on the latch again and a shot of light blinded me, but I kept the lid low until I knew where we were. Ger and I scooted toward the slit of sunlight and we peered out. Parking lot – hundreds of cars in rows all around us – we didn’t see any people close by.
Slowly, I let the trunk open and found we were on several acres of asphalt in front of a casino – we were on a local Native American reservation west of town! I’d visited this casino before – great buffet.
Grabbing the rope, Ger and I slipped out and started walking away from the casino entrance toward a small trailer on the back of the lot, “Security.” We slinked and sneaked between the cars moving toward the trailer. Someone in there would help us with a phone and a cup of water. Before we could get to the trailer, I heard the crackle of a walkie-talkie and the hum of a small engine.
“Hey! You two! Stop where you are.” The uniformed man called to us from his golf cart about ten feet away using a bullhorn. We stopped, turned and smiled at him. An armed guard was a welcomed sight! Ger and I stood, both smiling and striding quickly toward his golf-cart transport.
He got out and looked us up and down, then noticed the rope. “Going to a lynching paleface?” He snickered at the plastic bags which had now drooped in the heat and weren’t holding my rags against my groin very closely anymore.
“You two related?” He examined Ger closely.
“Officer, I’m an instructor and this is the son of my friend – I was babysitting him when we were snatched. We need water and help contacting his parents.”
“Ah! Another member of the Minnie-nookie tribe. We get several a month.” He pulled his radio out and muttered something about being sick and tired of the pervs and dealers running to the reservation thinking they’d be sheltered. Then he called for a car and took my rope and matchbook. The can opener fell out and he examined it carefully. “What the fuck is this?”
“It’s an old can opener. I used it to cut the ropes off us.” I noticed that his waist must have been three times his inseam – Officer Ruiz was damn well-fed. “We’re hungry – haven’t eaten for a long time…”
“We’ll see if we can’t find you a can of beans so you can show us how this can opener works – you jerk.” He tucked the opener back into the matchbook and stuck it in his shirt pocket.
As we got into the back seat of the reservation’s police car, I whispered to Ger to be quiet and not say anything until Faith and Peter came. “That’s it! Coach your little boyfriend so you can get off light – I know your kind!”
Then the two big brutes called for a nurse on their radio, they wanted a rape kit done on Ger.
This was getting way out of hand, “You can call his parents and ask them. He was left in my care and we were thrown into a van and driven to the desert – kidnapped! It’s true! We want to talk to the state police fast, one of the guy’s in the casino now.”
“No can do. We got procedures.” One of them said and the rest of the ride was in silence.
* * *
When we got to the security trailer at the far end of the lot, I asked them to give us water. Ger drank several chilled bottles and the guys gave him part of their lunches until the casino sent over a box of snacks, sandwiches and sodas. I had to keep refilling the four-ounce paper cone from the water jug. These guys had me pegged as a perv, pimp or john or all of them. Innocent till proven guilty – my ass!
The young man acting as clerk took a number of photos of both of us. Wouldn’t you know, within minutes the rest of the security and reservation police had to come by and check out our loin cloths and then they asked Ger his name.
“Geronimo.” He was stuffing his face with chips and discovering a distinct attraction to anything with mayonnaise.
The group fell silent with serious looks on their faces then stared at me. “Geronimo?”
“It’s really Edward. Let’s call his parents. May I use your phone?” I figured I’d call Peter’s workplace and ask them for his cell but it was Sunday – they were closed. Maybe I could call one of the clubs where Faith performed….
“And where’s your phone Mr. Hoochiecoo?” He flicked a corner of my plastic bag with the antenna on his radio.
“It’s where we were held while we were kidnapped. If you put a fire under your butts and check the GPS while the battery’s still charged you’ll find the people who kidnapped us. Damn, didn’t anyone issue a missing person’s report or an Amber Alert for the boy?”
“Let’s see some ID.” The gruffest of the police asked, like I had a pocket to carry a wallet.
“Name’s Glen.” I started, “It’s with my phone out in the desert where we were being held.” They didn’t believe me. “Where they cut our clothes off us and tied us up.”
“With this rope?” He held my skein of rope up.
“Yeah.” My voice was shaky. This was getting stickier by the moment.
“Why did you take the rope they tied you with?” His big, bushy black eyebrows knitted together as he asked.
“In case we needed to… Well, I like ropes, tying knots and all – you never know when you’ll need some rope, like to lasso something or whip someone. Like, maybe, uh – in self-defense. I was a scout – I got a wilderness badge to prove it!”
“Boy scout, huh?” He turned to the man at the desk, “Get the kid a tee shirt from the casino and bring a sheet for this guy.” He looked at me hard, “That big, hairy butt of his and all that plastic flapping around is weirding me out.”
He jerked me by the arm and walked me back to a very small cell. Toilet, sink and eighteen-inch wide cot and an eighteen-inch walk space then locked the barred door behind me. I could hear them chattering in the front office with Ger. They were treating him much better than me, and he sang like a nightingale. He chirped out about Julie and the mean men who threw him in the van and slapped him around. He even recounted the point of the knife at his balls.
“It felt like they were going to put something sharp right here.” At that point he probably showed the police where the knifepoint touched him, my uninhibited little sprite was enjoying all the attention from the louts. The police cooed and continued questioning him as they offered him cookies, chips and soda. Ger was in junk food heaven and it only expanded and fueled his performance.
They asked him if I brought him to the reservation for any reason – were we going on a ‘play date’ with someone in the area.
“Glen said we had to go back to town so we sneaked in the trunk of a car – it belonged to one of Julie’s friends. Some guy drove us out here and we waited till he was gone and got out. It was really hot, but Glen said we you guys would help us. Got some more cheesy puffs?”
“What does this guy look like – the guy that drove you here?” One asked.
“I don’t know. We didn’t see him. We had to be really, really quiet, or they’d tie us up and be mean again.” I heard another bag of chips crinkling and the pop of another soda being opened. “Are there more little catsup buckets?”
Someone must have gotten on the radio in the middle of this fiasco, maybe a missing person’s report came in. The clerk came back, tossed a crumpled sheet at me and left. After a thorough sniffing, it seemed clean enough. Tying two corners together I slung it on over my shoulder – it draped to give me the air of an ancient philosopher with a rabbit at his neck, but it covered more of me. I kept the loincloth affair for some personal dignity.
There was noise from down the hall and the old trailer shook with a number of people entering the front office. Things started snapping into high gear when the state police came into the security office. Six of them arrived.
* * *
They weren’t much help, in fact – they were checking the state perv list for me.
“Look, the guy that’s driving that black Mercedes with the tinted windows – he’s part of this whole kidnapping thing. Can’t you check the license plate and go arrest him. He’s probably still in the casino.” I yelled from my cage.
One of the troopers approached me, “We’ll run this investigation for you, Mr. -” He looked at my garb and grinned, “Julius Caesar or would it be Brutus today? Why don’t you just sit back and relax?” The state police had a more sinister sense of humor.
Knowing I kept all my contact information on my phone, I told them to ask Ger to call his parents, and I gave them the name of the street and area of town where Faith lived. Couldn’t remember the exact address, but I described the house. “I could find it on the computer – or I’ll draw you a map. You need to get hold of Faith and Peter – they’ll explain everything.” I thought for a moment, “or call his grandpa, he’ll straighten this out.”
“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go.” They escorted me to a state car and put Ger in another and we left for a low-slung adobe building outside of town where I perp-walked into the building handcuffed as part of the plastic bags fluttered from the side of my drape.
I didn’t see my imp. “Where’s Ger?” I asked as I was escorted behind the front desk.
“Getting greedy or getting scared?” Was all the officer said.
Oh, that was mean. I wouldn’t bend to their intimidation, I’d done nothing wrong.
* * *
No cell, I was in an interrogation room and sweating hard. The more I tried to help myself, the worse I made this predicament. As soon as a suited man came in, I asked for an attorney.
“Why? Is there some reason you need to protect yourself? You haven’t been charged with anything.” He was smooth, cool and smiling as he unlocked my handcuffs – handsome middle-aged man in an expensive suit. He said he was an investigator, “Just gathering information.”
“Why was I cuffed? What are you thinking?”
“Self-harm. We even protect guys going to toga parties.”
“I’m free to leave?”
“Sure.”
“Take me back to Ger’s house.”
“Be glad to, after a few questions.” I smelled a whiff of expensive cologne.
Damn! A pinch play – but I’d never be able to hitchhike in a sheet and sneakers – we were about fifteen, maybe twenty miles from town and I didn’t have my bus pass.
“I’ll tell you everything you want if you’ll check for an Amber Alert and tell me if Ger’s been reported missing. Where is he? Who’s taking care of him?”
“Let’s get some information first…” He pulled a gold pen from his suit pocket and flipped open a folder with a legal pad.
“I want a lawyer.”
“That could take several hours…”
“Okay, what do you want to know?” For the second time I gave all my basic information to another person who thought I was some kind of perv – wait! Maybe they thought I was one of the kidnappers!
* * *
After explaining about the kidnapping, giving as much detail as I could, I stopped when we got to the security trailer at the casino. “I guess you know the rest of that.”
“About the rope, and there was a small metal device inside a matchbook.”
I wasn’t going to try to explain that again, it only made things worse. “Hell, I don’t know why I grabbed those things – at the time I thought they might help somehow. We used the matches to check for the latch to open the trunk from inside.”
He leaned back and touched his fingertips together in a thoughtful pose, “Now, Glen, my friend – we know you’re gay.” He cocked his head at an earnest angle. “Got nothing against gay men – nothing at all. Even got several on the force now. Nice guys from what I hear.” He paused. “Gay comes in a lot of flavors, if you know what I mean…”
How did they know I’m gay? What did that have to do with anything? I was admitting to nothing personal, only helping Ger.
He assumed the high ground, “Yeah, you guys got the daddy bears, the bear cubs, the spinners, the gym brutes – all kinds of gay men out there. Have you ever heard of a twink, or a pouf?” He leaned forward and stared at me lifting his eyebrow.
I shook my head and looked away. “I want to be taken home, or I want a lawyer right now. Not sure what you think’s going on, but I just took a kid out of a dangerous situation and I won’t be insulted. We could have been killed.” Sure, I remembered touching Ger and burned my face with guilt; my lips remained shut about that.
“The kid said you told him you loved him.”
“I do love the kid. Ger’s mother is an old friend, I love her too.”
The man smirked at me. “Do you know what pederasty is?”
“Lawyer or leave – now!” I said and stared at him as my shopping bags crinkled when I shifted.
* * *
He left me alone in the room and locked the door. Because one of the walls was mirrored, I figured I was being watched. But as I sat there, I considered what I would do next – first, I had to find out where Ger was and if he was okay. Then, I’d call friends to find a lawyer – maybe the LGBTQ center would send one to help me. Nah – they wouldn’t want to be associated with anything close to potential child abuse…
The man came back with another officer and handed me a crumpled jumpsuit – the kind prisoner’s wear. I looked at his face. “Am I being arrested?”
“It’s the only thing we could find, Socrates. Put it on.”
“Where’s Ger? Is he alright?”
“He’s here. His parents are coming.”
“Can I see him?”
“Why?”
“I want to make sure he’s alright, I’m still responsible for him till his parents come.”
* * *
Damned humiliating to have to undress in front of those guys, but I found the plastic had caused my skin to sweat in personal places and I smelled over-ripe, but I smiled through it and filled the room with my stench. Slipping myself into the jumpsuit and I rolled the pants legs up, “Is voyeurism one of the requirements for joining the force?” I asked.
“Of course.” The investigator said and gave a half grin, “We get to watch everything.” He wiggled his eyebrows.
“Yeah, well suck my sacks!” I told him and dropped my loincloth and bags on his shoes as I passed by them to the hallway. The guys escorted me out of the room to the lobby.
There was Ger in a leotard and his sneakers. “What’s this?” I sat near him, looking at his little package straining underneath the stretchy material.
“That officer lady said I could have this – she had it in her car for her kid. I think I need dance classes.” There was a bag of chips and a cola on an end table close by, but I needed to check for trauma – I know I was traumatized!
“You feeling alright? Are you scared? Did you start crying?”
He was still dancing around and thinking for a moment. “Yeah, I’m scared – don’t tell Mom I ate all the chips and I had four cokes and lots of cookies. She’s gonna yell if she finds out.”
“You’re not upset about the men taking you and tying us up?” He crawled up on my lap and hugged my neck.
“No. Those guys were so stupid! You take good care of me.” That deserved a hug and a kiss. I held him close in his black leotard and saw he was tiring. He put his head on my shoulder, and I leaned my head back against the wall as we sat in a plastic chair. We closed our eyes. I hadn’t realized how exhausted I was.
* * *
No one bothered us as we dozed in the lobby for a few moments. Soon we heard a horn beeping on the parking lot. In rushed Peter and Faith with frantic looks on their faces. Faith grabbed Ger and hugged him, Peter approached me.
“Nice junk. Did you get nicked or cut, uh, down there?”
“What?”
“Those guys sent photos. Were you cut?”
I shook my head. “We got out before anything bad happened.”
“Faith’s dad is sending his attorney. We have to wait for him and wrap this up before we can leave. But the old man said to take you and Ger to a hospital and get an exam on the way. Don’t want any problems.”
“As far as I know, Ger is alright. I’m rattled but I’ll be okay. Are we going to be safe? Where is the man who drove the Mercedes? What about Julie and those guys in the old Econoline? Do I need to buy a gun? They got my wallet and phone – everything. They know where I live.”
“Don’t know yet. Let’s wait and see what the attorney says – he’s been talking to the top brass.”
Wasn’t too long before Faith’s dad and the attorney rolled in entered the lobby wearing gray three-piece suits and taking charge. Faith, Peter, Ger and I waited in the lobby then we were called back to the meeting room with them and that impudent investigator and several troopers.
Ger was asleep on Peter’s lap while the investigator spoke with our attorney. Seems Julie had already jumped the border. The men in the old Econoline van were being held in the downtown jail – picked up on a public urination charge. They’d hit their third strikes!
“Thanks for the information about his tattoo – it nailed him.” The investigator told me.
“What about the guy in the Mercedes?” I asked. “Did you pick him up at the casino?”
“We watched him on the security cameras – and sent his photos to the other agencies. He’s being tracked now.” The investigator looked at Faith’s dad. I had to wonder why.
“Did you find the place they took us? I want my phone and my wallet back. All my personal information…”
“We’ve sent our crime scene crew out there searching for the place. They’ll find it – you know everything is evidence now – covered with fingerprints, DNA. The DA’s office has a page on their website to help you recovering your ID. You and the boy are the only two who can identify these guys and you’ll have to testify in court, so don’t leave San Diego County without notifying us.”
“We only saw the guys who kidnapped us…” I said and shook my head. “Only briefly.”
“You’re all we have so far.” That damned investigator gave me a slow, catty smile.
Faith had a lot of questions about Julie and the men in the van. I hadn’t seen Julie only heard her and explained about the soldering iron and that she’d called someone named Doc who was going to remove our testicles, “They said it got them the cash faster than a finger or a toe.”
After a few more technicalities, the officials and the lawyer seemed satisfied that things were settled for the time being. Peter and Faith told them they were planning to move and rent their house. I was still shocked at the turn of events and wondered about my own security. Living alone with a disability I figured I needed a gun, maybe a security system – hard to do on limited income. Maybe I could rig up some tin cans over the front door as an alarm and attack any intruder with my old cast iron skillet, throw my dictionary….
As we left, the investigator who’d interviewed me pulled me aside, “You know – about all that gay business – it’s part of my job. We had to know if you were in on the kidnapping or something else.”
“Yeah, well, I hope you enjoyed sniffing my loincloth.” That was the nastiest thing I could think of with so many people close by.
“Made my day.” He grinned and walked away, the snide bastard.
* * *
Peter and Faith sat in the front of their van, and I held Ger’s head on my lap while he snored – he was worn out after sugar and caffeine rushes. But we didn’t go to my apartment. Faith’s father said he wanted us to stay with him until they found the guy in the Mercedes. We stopped at Ger’s pediatrician’s office for a quick exam where the doctor took photos of our wrists and legs where the rope had chaffed our skin, and photos of our genitals only revealing we were unscathed. The doctor was quick with me, Ger seemed to take longer – I imagined he was charming the older man during his exam.
Over dinner, the truth spilled out. The guy in the Mercedes had worked for Faith’s dad and was embezzling to feed his addictions – drugs, sex and gambling. He must have met Julie through the network of dealers and users. After Julie’s eviction, they’d cut a deal to split the ransom and deal together as a team. The embezzling was reported and the investigation turned up the drug use, that’s why the guy was already on the PD’s radar. Faith’s dad felt as though he owed me for saving the beloved grandson and we discussed our security but I was exhausted and went to bed early.
The next day Faith’s dad had his secretary help me reconstruct my identification and notify my bank canceling my credit cards and such. She called a personal shopper with my measurements and told her to get three outfits, “California cool – and hustle! He can’t stay in a bathrobe all day.”
Within the hour I was in slacks and a knit shirt with canvas loafers. Then, she personally took me in her car to a nearby women’s salon and told me to stay quiet while she spoke with her personal stylist and I got a haircut and a shave in a small private booth. Neither women spoke, but I could hear the music and laughter in the other parts of the salon. We left through the back door, the same way we come in.
That felt good, but the secretary and the stylist were so slick with keeping me under wraps I had to suspect if they’d done this before. Hmmm – I wondered how much they were paid to ‘forget.’
* * *
Back at Faith’s parents’ house I went back to bed, feeling more relaxed and secure in my surroundings and didn’t wake up until almost ten that night. Faith and her father were in the den – he was chastising her about her lax parenting, and how it got her into this trouble. “You almost lost your son! I’ve got plans for that boy.”
Ger seemed to like laying his head on men’s laps and having them stroke his cocklet. Damn, if he hadn’t wrangled his granddad into the same thing I’d done! That made me a little jealous, but how could I be upset when I heard him make those little orgasmic sounds? I went back upstairs with a stubborn hard on and took a quick shower.
The next day I slept in until Ger came to wake me with kisses – he’d put the leotard back on because it rubbed his kit. I was still a little miffed, though. “Did I see your granddad stroking your cock last night?”
“Yeah, he likes that, and he showed me how to suck his dick too. He says I’m the best in the whole world, and maybe the galaxy!” He was sneaking his hands under the sheets to my morning rocket-cock.
Pulling him close to me, I kissed him, “I’m so glad we’re safe. You were so brave.”
“Of course!” He answered and let my hands run all over his sweet body.
“Do you think about boys or girls? Do you think you might be gay?”
“Hmmm…” He cocked his head, “I like men, but I like boys and girls. Dad says I’m tutti-fruity.”
“Tutti-fruity? What does that mean?”
“Mom and Dad made me a label of my own. Tutti-fruity – you know! I think it’s like spermoni ice cream with all the different fruit chips in it.
“Mmmm, yes. Spermoni – I like that too.” I had to chuckle, “If you like men, that’s okay. Just be careful – some of them are mean, like the ones that threw us in that nasty van.”
“Mom said I could only kiss men who love me.” He was losing interest in my warnings.
“How do you know if they love you?”
“I just know it.” He was wiggling around, not wanting to discuss this any further, so I let him rub himself on me though his leotard. His fingers played in my chest hair and he rubbed his fingers along my morning stubble, examining my body as his curiosity led him while I pondered my lust for Italian ice cream with candied fruit chunks.
He followed me to the shower and let me scrub him again, and then he put his leotard back on and went to pick out a green shirt and khaki pants from me. “Look like a tree today!”
Downstairs, Faith gave him whole wheat pasta with goat cheese for breakfast – I had bacon and eggs and let him slip a few bites when she wasn’t looking.
While Faith went to pick up my meds, I called the lawyer we met yesterday. He hadn’t received any information about the capture of the man in the Mercedes; that left me feeling somewhat ungrounded – though living in a mini-mansion with a maid was great, I wanted to go home – I needed the comfort of my old routines. Then I remembered my old routines were gone forever – my head was someone’s bullseye now. Suddenly depression and pain came roaring back – I went back to bed.
Faith came in and told me to come down to the pool; they were swimming and having wine and cheese.
“Shit.” I’d gained weight and didn’t have a suit. “Forgot my speedo!”
“Don’t need any trunks – just the guys this afternoon. I’m leaving for the mall—new phones for you and Ger.”
“Thanks, I forgot about that.” I went downstairs to find Peter, Dad and Ger in the pool – all naked. So, I stripped down and went into the steps the pool with a tall, icy cup of sangria on the ledge nearby. Granddad was tossing short, brightly colored rods into the pool for Peter and Ger to retrieve.
I couldn’t join in the fun, and my meds were kicking in along with the alcohol. Floating around in the water getting drunk, stoned and more depressed by the moment, I felt worse. In the back of my mind I was thinking about the press, interviews and reporters when the kidnapping hit the news if I survived that long.
Missed my old life—working, out to the bars on the weekends, visiting Tijuana every several weeks with friends. Now, I faced a potential onslaught of strangers prying into my life for an event I had little control over… They’d call me a ‘disabled school teacher.’ My fat face and thin hair would light up every screen across the US for several days. Life was sucking big time; maybe I should grow my beard out. Could I hide behind a handlebar moustache? Nah. I had to tough this out one moment at a time. I went back upstairs, wishing I could cry, but I was too stoned.
* * *
Ger came in and woke me for dinner, “Lawyer coming tonight – he always brings those black cakes, get up!”
“Black cakes?” I mumbled.
“Black chocolate with cherry pudding inside.” Ger said, sneaking under the covers with me. “Mom says you have to get up – she says it’s important.”
I snuggled against him and kissed his hair thinking that it would be nice to be married and wake up with a warm body against me every morning, though Ger’s squirmy body was best way to wake up. Maybe I’d find a nervous Asian guy… “Okay booger. Tell Faith I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
“Glen, are you lonely?” He asked before he left the room.
“Why are you asking?” Odd question from the boy.
“Because I’m lonely for my friends and school, and my bike…” His brow furrowed, “And my backyard. It makes me feel funny – like parts are missing inside me.”
“Yeah, I got some holes inside me, too.”
“Will it go away?”
“Sure, we’ll find some new things to fill the places where the old things left. It feels different but could be better.” He came back to kiss my cheek, then jumped up on the bed and made mattress-earthquakes until I got up and stumbled to the shower.
* * *
Downstairs was noisy with people, the attorney brought his family and I met Faith’s mother, a beautiful, gracious woman who’d just returned from Vancouver after she got the news.
The lawyer’s wife was obviously a trophy and brought their three young children. Second family; business must be good.
Peter dismissed the staff for the evening and was grilling steaks on the patio by the pool, roasted corn on the cob, and vegetables. Faith’s parents opened wine and handed out organic soda pops to the four wet children that flew around the yard with a soccer ball.
Faith put on some recorded music and we sat eating, watching the kids in the pool as the night settled around us. The eerie light of the pool made their naked bodies like specters moving through the water—the music was soft and the evening was easy. When all the slippery little fish finally got tired, they ate and went to the den under the guise of watching a movie. They’d be asleep within minutes.
The adults simply moved closer to the pool with several more bottles of wine, enjoying the night air. I finally relaxed and felt comfortable with myself for a while when Faith’s mother asked me to tell her what happened.
Maybe it was the wine talking, or maybe I needed the attention – either way, I spun my tale; Julie’s bloody clothing, the eviction, the lawn chair, the tattoos, the ‘cloterizing’ with a soldering iron. They laughed about that part, to my amazement.
Faith’s father knew what the can opener was about and described how his father had brought one home when he left the service. “Never could get the damned thing to work – guess I wasn’t hungry enough.”
After that, I explained the fiasco with the loincloths and the rope that happened on the reservation, then the investigator and finding Ger in a leotard. It was a surreal story; I was truthful. I finked on Ger again and explained that the cops treated him too well, but there wasn’t any organic food in the vending machines. “Salt, sugar, grease and neon-colored food. Sorry, Faith.”
She just shrugged, “He survived – thanks to you.”
That’s when Peter explained what they did when they got the photos of Ger and me, naked, with the knife at our genitals. “They asked for seven million. We called for help immediately, but we didn’t call the cops. We called Edward Senior first – not for the money, but how we should handle the situation. I sent the text message to the cops later, but I knew we had more problems than money when we read their message, “July sez 7milun. 1 day or 2 tenticuls”
The lawyer whipped his phone out and showed everyone the photos of Ger and me in our loincloths. The women were howling with laughter; the guys glanced at the photo, then my groin.
“You didn’t send these out to anyone, did you?” I asked.
“Not me, but don’t count on the troopers being discrete.” That ticked me off, but what could I do? I only hoped they’d cropped out our faces.
The group laughed often through the evening, but it gave me context – I realized that Ger and I were caught in an idiotic drama that would have fizzled under Julie’s management – but we’d gotten out alive. Close call.
* * *
Faith spoke up, “Peter – you ought to make a video about the kidnapping.”
“Hold up on the video!” The lawyer said and looked at me. “You know it may take a while but the feds are hot on the trail of that guy in the Mercedes – he’s probably shooting for a position further up in the cartel. The jerk has connections or family in the business. Julie tried making some kind of a deal as a runner with a Central American group. They don’t expect her to last long – she snorts all her profits.”
“So Ger and I are minnows caught in a shiver of sharks?” I asked.
“Well,” He paused thinking of how he would explain the next part, “When they catch the guy and bring down all his contacts, we’ll know a lot more about all the full scope of the cartel’s reach. Kidnapping, abduction, coercion, all that will be added to the list of charges. Important to show a human element to the court – that these guys consider loss of human life just another strategy in their business deals.
“When a kid is involved, especially a cute one like Ger, that doubles or triples our odds of getting these guys put away for life. The cartel recently got into human trafficking….
“You’ll get your fifteen minutes of fame, but I’m working to keep Ger out of the press – you two still aren’t safe and may never be. Cartels are just monied gangs – they have long memories for anyone who’s wronged them. All of you need to keep yourselves under wraps for now, and I’ll ask about the protection program. This is going to be big when it hits – Interpol is in on it. You and Ger are the link that led us to find this guy and open more investigations for more charges. You’re marked men now.”
If I wasn’t half-crocked I would have kept my mouth shut, “Wait, I don’t want fifteen minutes of fame and to be honest, I haven’t felt safe since I ran down the alleyway with the lawn chair.” I wasn’t in such a good mood anymore. “Word travels in jail, you know—where the hell are we going to hide?”
The attorney looked at Faith’s parents, “Remember that house I took in payment – about six years ago. Won’t sell after that case hit the media. Even the sheiks won’t touch it.” He leaned forward, “It’s secured to the max and the perfect place for Faith and Peter. House out back for staff – Glen could take it and we wouldn’t have to worry about their safety. I’ll get the local gendarmes to put the perimeter security on their code-red computer.”
I got up to get the bottle of wine and refresh everyone’s glasses when Peter came alongside me, “Great idea – documentary of a kidnapping – could you write that up? Get some comments from Ger – though I don’t think he realized how serious the situation was. But this could be a great vid on how crime butts into people’s lives.” He thought for a moment. “Sorry about all that shit with Julie – really didn’t mean for all this to happen.”
“Well, it happened and it could have had a tragic ending.” I sighed, “Do you really want to make a video and bring any more problems to Ger and your family?”
“We’ll change things up enough on film to hide your identities. But it’s a good story – funny and so tragic at the same time. Those loincloths were a great idea. Recycling message to the max!”
That comment flummoxed me for a moment, didn’t he realize he’d almost lost his first-born? “I’ll need my computer.”
“We’ll go over to your apartment tomorrow. Just don’t tell Faith or her parents.”
* * *
Holy fuck! I never expected what Peter and I found when we entered my apartment.
My whole place was shredded! The computer was smashed and smelled as if someone peed on it. Rotting trash was thrown all over the furniture. All my clothes were on the scattered on the floor. My bookshelves were emptied and everything was doused with bleach and cleaning fluids from the kitchen. Someone took a razor to my work clothes and my $129 suit – no real loss there, but what a mess!
When Peter saw the wreck of my home, he just told me to get a few of the most sentimental items while he called the police. Then, he started taking pictures while I left my home with a shoebox containing my teaching license, my graduation certificate, scout manual and wilderness badge from years ago and a few handmade mementos my students gave me. Everything else was ruined; I was too stunned to cry.
Peter and I stopped by the local discount electronics store and he bought a laptop with several thumb drives and we went back to Faith’s parents’ house. I could only sit in the van with my shoebox on my lap trying to recoup some composure.
As we pulled in the driveway of the house, tears stung my eyes. Just to see that stately old brick home, covered in ivy where several generations had grown up made me more melancholy. I’d never have anything like that. Fat, queer disabled guy living in hiding from uneducated fools protecting their freedom to terrorize. There weren’t any heroes in this scenario and there weren’t going to be any – only a trail of victims staggering through unmarked graves.
* * *
Ger had to check out my new computer and I let him play games for a while, but he was bored. He enjoyed more physical activity – fast movements and lots of noise, so we went to the pool. Though I was still shocked about my apartment, my only real home, I didn’t mention it and tried to enjoy water and sunshine with my tanned, naked little stickleback.
We sat on the steps of the pool then raced to the other end in a kind of tag. Out of breath, I held on to the side of the pool while Ger came and wrapped his arms around my neck and his legs around my waist.
“You can touch me now.” He said and grinned.
“I can? Thanks.” I chuckled at his unsophisticated but clear request and fondled his little shaft in the sunshine. Since Grandfather and Peter all seemed to be in on this, and I was ‘bonding’ with my friend I didn’t feel one mote of guilt or shame as I watched the boy grin and close his eyes.
Sneaking my finger to his hot, tight ass, I abruptly shoved my little finger inside him while the rest of my hand held a small white butt cheek.
“Ow!”
“Shhh. There’s a place just inside,” I felt around in his hot, tight hole, “When it feels good, grab your dick and rub.” Our eyes met, and I grinned, finding the little lumps inside him. Ger’s jaw dropped and his eyes blanked, “Rub, honey, stroke your dick.”
He did and his body convulsed gently a few times. I pulled my finger out and pushed him away into the water laughing all the while.
When his head came back above the water he was grinning, “I like that!”
“I bet you do.” We swam to the steps and got out. “I’m going to take a nap, wanna come with?” We toweled off, wrapped ourselves and ran up the stairs to my room.
As we were rinsing the chlorine off, Peter stepped into the bathroom and stripped. He joined us, “Hey, tutti-fruity, wanna have some fun this afternoon?”
“Can I wear my leotard?” Ger stroked along his father’s dark red sac. Couldn’t help but notice that Peter shaved his entire groin and balls. The right side of his groin sported a slick Asian tattoo of a green dragon.
“Sure, we’re taking Glen out this afternoon; he’s been in a funk.”
“Is funk like fuck?” Ger’s fingertip traced along a line of the tail of the dragon.
“No. Fucks feel good; funks feel bad.” Peter stated. That was enough explanation.
“Okay.” I had to pull him back to rinse his hair, but he was off like a shot.
Peter leaned over and tugged my foreskin, surprising me, but I continued washing. “How about going down to the Runway this afternoon? We’ll take the Ger to the beach and jog for a while.”
The Runway is a gay club near the beach. I’d only been there a few times, and the last time I was there, it was too loud and crowded. “Ger can’t come in – they serve alcohol.” I reminded Peter.
“We’ll sit on the patio out back.” He winked at me. “We need some privacy.”
I’d come to accept liberal families and attachment parenting, but I was curious about why Peter and I would need privacy in a gay bar. How could things get stranger?
* * *
I followed Peter in his van, and we dropped it off a cheap car-painting business and replaced the tags before we left. Peter figured to save some money on security that way and still have a way for him to get back and forth to work. Faith already had a new car, gifted by her parents.
In Grandmother’s BMW, we parked behind the Runway and slipped in through the back gate to the patio. A few other men sat in the shade of the canopy sipping beer and having a late lunch. An overhead fan stirred a small breeze and someone had recently hosed the concrete floor making it cool and moist. This was refreshing and I felt fairly comfortable among the potted palms and ficus.
Usually the wait crew was comprised of students. Not this afternoon – One of the swishiest, queenliest transvestite I’d ever seen strutted to our table with her order pad and a pen stuck in her orange beehive.
“Hey, Pete – brought your friends today?” She said, and stared at Ger. Damn, if she didn’t fall in love with Ger before she asked for our order. Ger stared, not sure what was going on with this woman or man – his puzzlement was amusing.
Peter ordered us some exotic sandwich with sprouts, fries. We got a pitcher and I looked at Ger, “Whatcha want, boo?”
He looked around, unable to decide – the menu was too long and the woman that sounded like a man still had him mesmerized. “I know what this beauty wants. How about the mini-salad and an extreme-sundae?” The waitress suggested.
You know how that went.
* * *
Peter got down to business quickly. “For the first time since Ger was born, one of the guys at work asked me how he was doing. Another gal asked me if I was having any problems at home. Making me nervous, maybe I’m paranoid but I have to find another job in a hurry.”
I just listened, I had my small disability check, and I figured I’d go on the food dole and lean on Mexico’s rice and bean subsidies. Maybe I’d get some other benefits where I could find them and find another subsidized apartment in the barrio. “You’re going to leave your job? Haven’t you been with the same documentation company for about ten years?”
“Yeah. But since the kidnapping I’m feeling strange. Can’t quite pinpoint it, but things are spinning out of control too fast to suit me.”
A pitcher of beer and two frozen mugs came to the table then lunch arrived smelling great. Ger got a quarter slice of tomato with a one-inch square of lettuce on the top and two drops of Russian dressing along with a three-scoop chocolate sundae with strawberries and a Mt. Everest of whipped cream.
“Now, let me see you eat your vegetables first!” Our waitress stated, giving Ger a wink.
She looked at me, “Beautiful boy – absolutely charming!”
I pointed to Peter, “His son.”
“Coulda fooled me.” She said and prissed back to the bar.
* * *
Peter’s conversation was interesting. He wanted to take our kidnapping story and springboard himself into the growing cadre of independent filmmakers. He wanted to use the same kind of style from an old movie, ‘Performance.’
“We’ll get the movie tonight – it’s kind of rough, but when you described that basement you were in, and then the can opener and all, it reminded me of the scenes in that movie – gritty, raw – then you got a hard-on with Ger on your lap and the knife at your slit. I think I could break into the big time quick with this.”
“What do I get out of this?”
“Faith’s Dad is all over my butt about security. So, first thing I need is for you to move into the new place with us. You can take the house out back – I owe you that for all this mess Julie started.”
“What do I get out of this?” There had to be more.
“Got to work up that story for me… And there’s something else that’s gonna be tough.”
“What do I get out of this?” I was going through my second beer.
“Well, once I get the story adapted, I’ll hire a lighting technician, sound crew… I’ll be in production full time, but still working my regular job so I can borrow their equipment on the weekends. When I’m halfway through filming and editing, I’ll quit my job and start promotions. Right now, I’ve got two investors – don’t worry, I only told them I got a great script, didn’t use any names or anything.”
“I really can’t handle lighting or sound or anything like that – so what do I get out of this?”
He stalled for a moment, “I need you to kind of take over some of my responsibilities at home – with Faith and Ger. Granddad’s breathing down my neck, he thinks I’m slacking off again. You know what I mean?” He looked away for a moment, “You get security and our lawyer’s advice for taking some of the load off me at home.”
“I don’t want any of your personal responsibilities with Faith – she’s my friend and I want things to stay the way they are between us. But make a list of what you want me to do. I want to look over first—see if it aligns the compensation you’re going to mention.”
He hemmed and hawed about compensation.
“So, this means you’ll be gone most of the time filming, am I right?” I smelled a rat.
“Yeah, I’ll be shooting across the border – cheaper production over there, then the promotions in LA and New York – maybe France. That’ll come later.”
While we were chatting, the waitress played Argentine music and was teaching Ger to tango. Two men from the other table joined them and one man held Ger up against his chest – cheek to cheek with arms outstretched and hands joined, they strode through the bar and returned in reverse positions to our applause.
Peter and I finished our pitcher while the dancing continued in front of us with Ger teaching the waitress a popular Latin hand-dance. I got some great photos, and the waitress asked me to send her some, “So I can get your phone number, darling.”
That was a shock! But I sent her the best photo of herself and the other man, thanking her for giving the boy special attention and the customized menu. I kept the photos of Ger for myself – no sharing those!
Peter and I jogged along the damp sand with Ger running ahead and finding odd shells and scaring the sandpipers away. After two miles of sweating along the shore, we headed for the BMW figuring the van would be a new, shiny dark burgundy red by then.
The ninety-nine-dollar paint job was good enough to hide the dusty, scratched blue paint for a while, and we both felt somewhat better. The entire trip home I was wondering what all would be on his list of responsibilities – I wonder if he’d say anything about Ger and me.
Peter seemed somewhat uncentered at times, and I felt this was some kind of set-up, but couldn’t figure it out and didn’t want to upset Faith by asking her – I needed the security they offered me, at least until I found out about the protection program.
* * *
That evening, I made an outline of the kidnapping with Peter’s encouragement. “Write as much detail as you can – it’s okay to make up some stuff… Don’t have to give it a fancy ending or anything – get the series of events with details down. Put some thoughts in there – like why you did this or that and what you felt at different times. That can opener thing was great! Were you really a scout?” He chattered on.
“Yes.” I was getting put-out with people questioning my childhood experiences. “Why don’t you go work up that budget with my compensation?”
* * *
Through the evening, I noted everything I could remember and made marks to come back to some of them – they needed more fleshing out. Every minute detail I could remember came back, especially where Ger was and what I imagined was happening to him. Never realized how much I depended on my sense of smell and the temperature changes – strange how those things came into play.
As I recalled each turn of events, my mind could see how the odds shifted – we were taken off guard in the alley. No doubt about that – the odds were so slim of being kidnapped yet we were. But the plan faltered by sheer stupidity or greed and our odds of escape improved when the man in the Mercedes brought drugs and the party started. The wild cards had always been our captors’ drug use and Ger’s self-control, but my boy had done a great job being quiet and still.
As I recalled the events on the casino parking lot, I got a text message. A photo of a tall, slender middle-aged man appeared on my phone and I figured it was a wrong number. But it wasn’t. It was the waitress, sans all the makeup and orange hairdo. The photo was captioned “Wayl.”
A few moments later a photo of a flyer for a drag show appeared, “I’m a star! Wanna see me shine?” It advertised a drag show on Thursday night in two weeks down near the border in a small, rented club. Then, I saw the cost; $50/ person, $75/couple. Out of my price range!
“You have me confused with someone else. Thanks for the flyer.” He must have been thinking of Peter, the Nordic god with perfect teeth.
* * *
I turned off my phone and wandered down the hallway wondering why everything was so quiet. Peter, Ger and Grandpa were in the pool. Stripping, I got into the water, still warm from the afternoon sun. “Where’re the gals tonight?”
“They left this afternoon and said they’ll be home Saturday – probably up in LA shopping.” Granddad said. “Would you mind watching Ger for a while? Peter and I have some things to discuss.”
“Sure.” Ger was already on my lap fingering my package.
While they walked into the house, Grandpa grabbed Peter’s butt and gave him a good squeeze – I thought I saw them kissing before they went upstairs. Didn’t give it another thought. Not my family; not my business and I sure didn’t want to know any more. Maybe I was too sexually conservative, but playing both sides of the fence… and with family? Well, it looked like it would get too complicated for me.
My complication was already asking me to tickle his butt again.
“You liked that?” I leaned back against the side of the pool and spread his legs, ensconcing him at my groin. Reaching around his slender hips, I spread his cheeks and asked him to rub my erection for me while I fondled his cleft from his tiny ball sac to his tight hole.
Both his hands gripped my erection tightly, and he made long slow strokes until only my glans was sticking up above the water. His little spike was hard, dancing around in the swirling water. I shifted him to the side, just enough to get a good view of his tool kit.
“Tonight, we’re going to feel good together, okay?”
He nodded, “Hurry up! Do it again.”
Instead of being dominated by a tyke, I simply began pulling on his little nuts – squeezing and massaging – a very thorough manual examination, then I watched his dark pink glans hide and peek out of his foreskin as I pulled it back and forth. Finally, he caught on that this was a two-person event and began rubbing his fingers through my chest hair.
“Pinch my nipples.” I told him and kept one hand stroking his cleft while I gently pinched his nipples. He liked that, but not as much as my ring finger entering his tight hole.
“Do you remember what to do when you start to feel good?”
“Rub my cock.” He was breathing harder.
“This time,” I whispered, “Lean over on my chest and rub your cock against my erection.” My finger pushed deeper inside him, and I gave him a few strokes in his ass. His hips hunched in response, and I felt that tightness happen in my groin and a heavy need to release rose through my torso. Wouldn’t take much longer, and I anticipated his tender cock and balls pressing against my erection, then my hot, thick cum between our chests.
I must have moaned when my fingertip touched his glands – tiny knots inside his heat – just a bit bigger than knots in jute twine. They were very distinct, and so sensitive. Ger’s hips flinched and he started humping against my groin. His breath hot near my clavicle made me tremble.
That tiny nail shot its dry load, and I put my hand on his back and humped against him until I felt the heat rising through my erection and pushed him back away. I continued stroking myself, “Watch.”
I stroked out several pressured spurts and smiled, “It’s beautiful when a man cums.” My body shook several times until I could contain the rushes of pleasure. Ger watched, then leaned over and licked the tip of my penis, still held firm in my hand. I watched his tongue tickle lightly along my slit while he looked up at me. Then, he kissed the last few drops out of me while I flinched several times.
Leaned my head back with a deep sigh and saw a million stars twinkling above us, but I had to chuckle when I remembered the waitress inviting me to a drag show.
“I’m a star….” Completely whimsical, frivolous life compared to mine.
* * *
Peter and Granddad were still in their ‘two-dick discussion’ so I took Ger with me to my bedroom, turned on the computer for him to play games.
We showered, but Ger was tired and wanted to watch a movie, so we went to the den and ate waffles with peanut butter while I checked my phone. There were several more incoming messages from Wayl. He implied that I must have self-esteem issues because he was very selective about dating – “You’re the one who looked like he should be the father of that little elf you brought… Dark men are delicious, hirsute is heavenly.” Then there were several more photos of him in drag – various looks and styles; sultry, sporty, schoolgirl…
If I wasn’t disabled, and was in better shape… I needed a haircut and a manicure, maybe a girdle… Dang it, I did have self-esteem issues. I tried to think of my fuck-worthy qualifications but I could only come up with being a college graduate, licensed teacher and I was a scout – but I was no longer working and wasn’t a scout anymore. No way could I tell anyone about the kidnapping or my new-found proclivity.
Peter and Granddad came down later and had a glass of wine with us, smiling and looking very relaxed. “We’re moving Friday night – going to the house with all the security. Okay?”
“I’d like to see that list first.” I reminded him.
“I’ll have it ready for you tomorrow.” He got up to get snacks while Granddad explained that we’d wait until around midnight to move. He’d rent an unmarked van to haul the few things we had.
“The house is fully furnished with the best. You won’t need anything but what you have now, and I’ll make sure the security system is working.”
“What happened in the house? Why hasn’t it sold?”
“Trafficking. The guys ran the place like a retail outlet. Seems there was a lot of sampling and kinky stuff, but they trafficked in almost anything a person could want. Even had a cryogenic system for eggs and sperm, but let’s not discuss it anymore. Faith likes the place, and I like the security system. Glad you’re going with them – you’ve got more sense than Peter and Faith put together.”
When we were all together, I suggested that Ger be encouraged to change his name again. “I’m thinking of changing my name to Abbot. That’s my middle name, but I thought maybe Grayson Abbot. You like that?”
“A little stodgy, don’t you think?” Peter said. “You look like an Antonio.” Then he winked at me.
That felt weird. But it all came to an end, Peter wanted us to watch ‘Performance.’ The movie was strange, but I was interested in the story, and the scenes were tense and gritty. Yeah, some of those sets showed the same grime and filth as the back of that awful van and the basement. When the movie finished, I carried Ger up to bed with me. The guys were snoring, sprawled out on the long sofas.
When I had Ger settled in, I slipped between the sheets and opened my phone again, reviewing the photos Wayl sent. Nice looking man – obviously arched his eyebrows, but he had a distinguished face when he was in mufti. Deep-set brown eyes and light brown hair. Didn’t look like he had much of a beard but he had very attractive broad shoulders and smooth, skin. Had to wonder if he was born with his full lips.
Ger woke up and had to go pee. When he came back, he leaned toward me, scooting himself along my side, and looked at the photos on the phone.
“Who’s that?” He asked.
“Remember the dancing waitress that gave you that tiny salad and a big sundae? That’s him. His name is Wayl – must be something like Waylon or Wylie.”
“I liked him. Why was he wearing a dress and a wig?”
“He’s an actor. He’s doing his art – performing as a woman. That’s a drag show—when people dress up like the other gender and sing or dance. Kinda like that talent show on the tele.”
Ger’s tiny finger touched the screen full of photos and enlarged the flyer. He read it quickly. “I probably need to see that. Will you take me?”
“No, they’re selling alcohol – no kids allowed.”
“Can I go watch before they have alcohol?”
“Let’s see if you’ll like it first.” I found a drag show video and showed him the dancing and the pop music lip-syncs, then I looked over and saw he was asleep.
* * *
Faith and her mother returned from LA with swollen faces and strangely colored hair; plastic surgery and makeovers in tandem. They both looked Asian for a while until the inflamation waned. I thought they looked fine before, but I understood the strategy – Faith wanted a disguise.
Maybe I needed a jowlectomy – a little silicone or Botox. Lipo! I needed liposuction!
* * *
We moved in the night, like refugees, to our own place. More privacy and much more space for the four of us.
The list that Peter gave me was the household chores that Faith couldn’t handle alone; taking the trash out and lifting it to the dumpster, cleaning the pool and heavier chores. Granddad told me that staff gossip, so it could get out to the wrong people about our new location and Faith was pregnant again. She’d need someone in the house with her and help her keep it. I could handle that for a five-room house with all the amenities. Compensation would be 50% of all gross upon completion and indefinitely.
The one thing Peter hadn’t considered was Ger’s education in his list of my “investments.” Ger would have to be home schooled until things were cleared up in the courts; probably afterward as well. I looked forward helping with that, but I knew he was missing a lot of socialization and friendships. Remembering how he missed his usual routines, I demanded a bike and a pair of inline skates for the kid, figuring he could bike or skate up and down the driveway. No more bike riding up and down an alley!
* * *
Wayl was hot on my case. He kept sending me reminders about the drag show until I spoke with Peter and asked if we could all go for a few minutes before the show and let Ger watch the performers get dressed.
“You and Faith can get out for a while, and I’ll take Ger to the back to see the performers putting on their makeup and all that. We’ll leave before the show starts.”
They agreed. We took a night off and went out before the action started. I texted Wayl and told him to expect Ger and me.
“So glad you changed your mind! Found some self-esteem?”
Yeah, I had a sprout of self-esteem. I’d lost three inches from my waist and got another haircut and trimmed my nails. Started using hand lotion and ordered myself a pink polo shirt to show off my tan. Best of all – I got off my meds and was using a hit or two off a blunt to help with the pain, and partially calmed my anxieties and conservative ‘school teacher’ nature.
* * *
Ger wore his leotard and sneakers the evening of the drag show. The sneakers seemed to have grown pompoms on the laces, and I was beyond caring that he looked more like a ballerina than a boy. With his hand in mine as we left the car, “Stay with me. Mom and Dad are going to check out the piano—they’ll be in the bar. Remember the law about kids and alcohol—we can’t stay very long.”
“I know! I wanna see the fancy men—the fancy ladies!” He jumped around excited about seeing some strange magic. Inside, I escorted Ger to the bar and asked where the performers were, and we left down a dark hallway into a noisy crowded dressing room. Music blared and laughter greeted us as we opened the door.
Ger and I were greeted by all the performers in every state of dress or undress. Wayl came to hug us and took Ger’s hand and kissed it, “My princess-in-waiting!” To my surprise, he gave me a side-hug and a kiss on my cheek. I blushed furiously, bewildered – I’d been out of the game too long.
I stood to the side, enjoying the men around me tucking their packages neatly between their legs. Lots of unusual underwear, strapping and a half-acre of elastic in that room. Actors were busy at the makeup tables applying heavy pancake makeup over their shadows. Silicone pads were labeled with strange names, stacked here and there. Was that guy using anti-perspirant on his face?
Ger was jazzed, asking them about this and that… One of the older queens dabbed lip gloss and blush on my sprite and he beamed, demanding I take a photo of them. The costumes were hanging nearby – a fifteen-foot row of glittery sequined sheaths and satiny billows – tiaras and glitz of every kind hung off each hanger. Ger’s small hands lightly touched the slippery fabrics and rough, glittery trims. There was a line of stiletto heels in astounding colors and heights. I was amazed; Ger was enraptured – he fell in love with the finery.
I sidled beside Wayl when Ger was talking with a queen who was trying to get the seams on his stockings strait, “Is someone going to record the show? We have to leave, and I want Ger to see the talent.”
“You can stay as my guests, but I understand. Wanna come over to my place on Sunday? We’ll have a video party.”
“Let me check with his parents first.”
“No, I meant you. Just you and me. Adults only!”
I was buffaloed, and on the spot. “Let me get back with you.” I just had another convulsive spasm of low self-esteem.
* * *
On the way home, Peter asked me if my friend Wayl was hot for me.
“I don’t know. I wanted Ger to see how the theatre worked.”
He chortled and Faith said it would be okay to date, but best not to have anyone know where we lived. Our depositions would be coming up, and she wanted to make sure Ger was safe.
That night, alone in my new home I felt empty; alone. Ger was in the house with his parents, and I was thinking about Wayl, or anyone, really. Yeah, I lived a high-life in a sense, but an extremely lonely life for this reticent fag. Maybe some glitter from backstage had worked its way into my briefs. I decided to text Wayl.
“I wanna see the video. Send info.”
Within a few moments I had his address. “Piña coladas at 7?”
“Sounds good.”
* * *
Faith let me borrow her car and I arrived in my pink polo and chinos, brushed and clean for an enjoyable evening. As I parked the car, I thought for several moments.
Just what the hell was I doing?
Should tell the guy I’m on disability? I’d been off work for over two years and had no hope to teach again. That always makes a man a real jewel of a lay and any man who had ‘fucking an unemployed gimp’ on his bucket list wasn’t my kind of guy.
How do I explain I’m a glorified housekeeper for a not-yet-famous filmmaker? That’s gonna score points big time in California where everyone has a screenplay and housekeepers are usually undocumented and non-English speakers. Then, how would I tell him I really can’t date publicly because I thwarted a kidnapping, inadvertently unraveling an international drug cartel? Might as well say I’m a terrorist.
My fuckability rating was in negative numbers. This wouldn’t be fair – not even to have a friendship with this guy. Not fair to me, either.
Turned the car around and went straight home. Didn’t hear from Wayl anymore, though I texted an apology.
* * *
Peter stuck to his plan after I wrote all I could remember of the beginning of the end of my major life event. For several weeks I was on the phone with the screenplay writer or someone who said he was. That boosted my ego by the diameter of a pixel – he liked my writing.
I abbreviated Peter’s list of my duties and posted an informal schedule on the refrigerator. Before long Faith, Ger and I had a routine of home-school classes, exercise and chores.
Autumn Halliday became Faith’s new stage name to go along with her new face. She set up a new website wanting to go back out in the clubs and festivals with her auburn hair and a rather exotic new look. That became difficult with her belly swelling with her second child.
She did land a gig at a very small new-age church out past Otay Mesa. Not much, but a second start.
We all went together to the church. Ger was able to enjoy being around some children for a few hours a week. Sitting outside the small chapel in a strip mall, I enjoyed seeing a horizon instead of the high walls around the house. That job petered out – most of the congregation were dedicated but undocumented and there was another crackdown on immigrants.
Online, I learned how to keep the palms and bougainvillea, the poinsettias and the lawn in top form. Ger and I expanded one of the flowerbeds and planted arugula and sunflowers. Through cleaning the pool and all the yard work, I lost more weight – but the real reason was because I was becoming apathetic. Feeling stuck in a glorified prison while life was passing by at seventy-five miles an hour – and toward our day in court. Considering that situation destroyed my appetite despite my medical mota.
Depression hit hard – I lost hope. Couldn’t imagine what my life would be after testifying in court, and avoided thinking about my future, I had Ger and Faith—they seemed to depend on me more by the day.
It didn’t help when I noticed my Ger had become sullen and quiet as well. I knew he missed his friends and playing with groups of kids. Even Faith, became quiet and more pensive. We only saw Peter a few hours a week, sometimes he didn’t come home for several days at a time – I trusted he was working hard and fast on his big chance at celebrity though I had some doubts.
Faith and I tried online yoga classes on the tele, exercise routines, board games, comedies and even installed low-flow devices in the kitchen and bathrooms but we couldn’t lift the depression that was weighted down by our anxiety. Faith and I didn’t mention it, but it was clear we’d be in court about the same time the new baby would arrive.
* * *
Assuming the leadership role, I decided to call the lawyer and ask what we could do. Counseling was out – I was paranoid about our information leaking out, and counselors have to keep notes.
“Faith, I’m calling the lawyer on speaker. There’s got to be some help. Maybe we could talk to some people who’ve been through this before, but we’re all getting edgy and low. I don’t know about you, but Ger’s changed. I’m concerned for all of us.” Never thought I’d be in this position, but we were tied together in this matter, in these moments.
The lawyer called us back immediately, “I’m going to call the feds and ask them to send someone over. They have a team of agents – they might help. They’ll help you define what you need; we’ll work from there.” He paused, “Faith, have you been for your check-ups?”
“Not yet.”
“Okay, I’ll text you with the name of agents who’ll be visiting you. Do you want me to come over when they visit?”
“I think we can handle this, but I’ll record just in case.” I told him, “We’ll let you know what happens.” For some reason, I felt lighter after that conversation – like seeing rain clouds in the distance during a drought.
* * *
We got the text message, and I set up a tape recorder on my computer in the corner of the living room. Within the hour I was asking the ID of the person in the car before I opened the metal gate to the drive. A stock, black government car with tinted windows drove in and I went out to meet agents Ruth and Matt. They shook my hand and followed me inside with their laptops in hand.
While Faith brought iced drinks, Ruth noted how nice the house was – “Just beautiful.”
“Gilded cage, my dear.” I said. Ruth didn’t understand. Matt did, though and began asking about the reason we’d called.
I waited for Faith and Ger to come into the room. They sat quietly while I explained, “You know Ger, the boy, and I were kidnapped. Faith and her husband Peter were supposed to pay a ransom, but we escaped. That was almost about five months ago. Maybe we’re going stir crazy, maybe it’s paranoia, but we’re starting to – well the anxiety and tension are rattling us. Faith needs a check-up, she’s pregnant. I feel like Ger needs more friends his age in his life and I’m keeping my end of this bargain, but it’s getting to me—we can’t go on like this.”
Matt shook his head, “Do you know when you’ll go to court?”
“Haven’t heard a word, and it doesn’t matter. We need some help now, today. We’ve tried to lift our spirits every way we can think of—I don’t want anything to happen, we’re so close to court and stopping these guys.”
“Where’s Peter?” Ruth asked.
“He’s double shifting to keep us here.” Faith answered.
I could only shake my head. “We’re in an unhealthy holding pattern.” Wasn’t sure about Peter being stressed, but he must be with a pregnant wife and two full-time jobs.
Ruth asked to speak to Faith in the kitchen. They left Ger and me with Matt.
“Hard to make friends right now, eh?” He asked Ger.
“It makes me lonely because we can’t go to the park or anything. But I like the puzzles and the nature videos for classes.” That was all he said – he was no longer my capricious spirit, but a downtrodden boy with an empty life.
“Okay.” Matt said.
Ger moved to my lap and his arms went around my neck. “Everything keeps changing and getting weird. I don’t know where I am sometimes.” He said softly.
Matt nodded. “I understand that. Do you know I was like you are now?”
“Really? You got kidnapped?”
“I wasn’t kidnapped, but I had to stay alone in a small space for a long time. Would it be alright if I came over and we talk about how to make things better for you?”
“Yeah, I guess.” Ger leaned his head against my chest. I was grateful, my boy could get some help.
“You’re a counselor?” I asked.
“Studied child psychology—UNAM.” Matt had studied abroad; I was curious about his confinement.
“You were held…” I began.
“Trafficked. But enough about me. Let’s see what else Ger needs.” He looked at Ger. “Would you like to go out? Have you ever been to Dizzyworld?”
Ger looked up at me – he’d come to look to me for permission. “We’ll see. Let’s find out when first.” Ger’s head went back to my chest. “We’ve been through a lot together, I feel protective…”
“I understand.” Matt said. “And how about you, Glen. Do you feel like you might need counseling? Medication?”
“Not sure what I need. Is it common for people in our positions to become so – well, so depressed?”
“Perfectly normal – we see it happen before every big case. Thanks for calling.” He opened his laptop. “I’m going to suggest that your lawyer and our office get in touch with you to give you the specifics. Knowing what you’re going to have to do and when will reduce your anxiety. I can get some meds if you need.”
“I need some more medical marijuana, but I don’t want any anti-depressants. My back problems and the pain are causing part of my problem. Faith and I both need to see a doctor, and I wouldn’t mind if Ger got his annual exam either.”
Matt nodded his head and made a note. “How about your socialization – Ger needs some friends his age – I’ll see what we can do about that. But what about you?”
“Matt, I’m a gay man.” I began without hesitancy, “Don’t think it would be fair to anyone who would want to be my friend – I’m a ticking time bomb in some ways. After court, I’ll be the center of the bull’s eye. Not fair to anyone who would befriend me.”
Matt pressed his lips together tightly and looked to the ceiling. “Let me think about that. But there’s always a way if we can find the right people to help.” He looked directly at me, “You know what they call this condition? It’s called ‘captive strain,’ and it happens before a breakdown which usually occurs the day before testimony. If you just had a place to get away for a while, think about something else. There’s probably some kind of support group at the LGBTQ center – have you looked there?”
“Matt, my nightmare is that I’m the victim of a drive-by. Not going to put myself out there to make more victims in or around the center. That would leave Faith and Ger completely alone.”
He just stared at me. “Right.”
* * *
Peter came through the hallway. “Lawyer called and said there were people coming…”
“This is Peter, Ger’s father and Faith’s husband. Peter, this is Matt. He’s here from the…”
“I’m Matt Flores from the Drug Interdiction Agency. Your lawyer asked us to come and help prep everyone for court. We’re here today to see how we can help. Hope you don’t mind us visiting while you were out.”
“Glad you’re here. I’ve had to work two jobs since we moved in. It’s been a financial strain, but secure here.”
“Stress happens. Do you think you might need some help or counseling? We’ve got a lot invested in this case, and we want to make sure everyone’s ready.”
Peter glanced at me; I stood, taking Ger with me. He seemed to want some privacy with Matt. In the kitchen, I found Faith and Ruth chattering about their births and parenting. “Are you going to be able to get Faith an exam? What about a midwife?” I asked.
“All worked out!” Ruth said. “Midwife is coming with a nurse practitioner to give everyone a checkup.”
Faith was grinning. “I’m birthing here – out by the pool.”
I smiled but carried Ger out by the pool and lay back on a chaise lounge with him still clinging to me. “It’s gonna get better.”
“I hope so.”
Then, my eyes stung as I felt his tears on my chest. Something had to change soon.
* * *
Dinner began quietly that night. I broke the silence.
“Okay. What’s going on? I asked for my meds, but I had to turn down any socializing and Ger – well it looks like he might get some counseling and a trip to Dizzyworld if you agree to it. Faith – do you know when the midwife and the nurse will come?”
“Well…” Faith began, “Ruth is arranging that for us, and I’m going to go online to a new mother support group – the best part is having my baby here, at home.”
“Sounds good, and that guy Matt says he’s going to get us the information on the case and when we have to prepare ourselves for depositions and testimony – all that. I feel a lot better about things now.” I took a sip of tea. “Peter, how about you? Did you get any help? It would be good if you could be around when we get closer to the birth.”
“Matt’s looking into some financial assistance, but I’m heavy into the filming now. Don’t know if it’s enough to help…” His voice trailed off, “…equipment and all…”
That left me feeling odd, but I suggested that I should move into the main house, “Just in case Faith needs me.”
Peter just nodded, but I felt stronger knowing I’d at least helped us forward by a few inches. We finished our meal feeling a little more comfortable, and Ger took Peter outside to show him our work in the sunflower garden. Faith went upstairs to elevate her swollen feet.
I saved the recording of the conversations in the living room and took my computer back to my place and listened. Nothing new, but Peter was hedging with Matt – I supposed he didn’t want Matt to know about the kind of video he was making. Peter told Matt he was taking on editing and filming work for other videographers. He hadn’t told me or Faith about that… I wondered what was up with him.
After forwarding the tape to the attorney, I went to bed and heard Peter leave before midnight.
* * *
Peter continued pulling double shifts though didn’t give me any updates on the progress of the video. Faith was more upbeat with the online support group. Ger and I called the attorney and requested all the questions that would be asked so we could prepare ourselves.
For a treat, Ger and I went online and he bought new clothes and costumes. I had a stash of funds because I had no expenses. Ger ordered ballet slippers and dancewear, I didn’t mind, in fact I ordered several full-length mirrors for his room.
When Matt came to talk to Ger, they had to go to his room to see his new ‘dance studio.’ This guy Matt was cool, and affectionate – listening and giving the boy a squeeze occasionally. Ger lit up when he visited and Matt kept things casual and easy between them – no ‘therapy speak.’
A midwife started coming to the house. Every two weeks she came to take Faith’s vitals and check the baby’s heartbeat. I was pulled into the birth because Peter was seldom home. The midwife was a knowledgeable, older gal. She gave me the videos and all the information I’d need to know to support Faith. Ger watched them with me. He’d be a part of this event as well. Why did I suspect Peter wouldn’t be there?
Had to wonder why I wasn’t getting any kind of assistance, and I have to admit, things were changing, we had more purpose in our lives and weren’t so isolated. Ruth and Matt brought news every week about how the feds were coming along with the case, and what we needed to think about and how to stay on track during depositions. That relieved a lot of stress, though Matt was always vague about the detail.
* * *
Ruth and Matt came through the gate one afternoon and went to the trunk of their car before they came in the house. They carried one large suitcase each as they approached the door. When I went to meet them, I asked, “Are you moving in with us? Is there a threat?”
“No. Grab that box and bring it. We brought some goodies.” They laughed all the way to the door, joking between themselves. Ruth took one of the big suitcases to the kitchen immediately and began speaking with Faith.
“Let’s take this box to Ger’s room.” We went upstairs with Ger dragging the box. Of course, the little bug was curious and had the box open in a flash. His mouth fell open as he dug through the leotards and tights – several sizes and all brightly colored. There was a tutu with tiny bells on it and headbands with flowers and bows. He was in costume heaven.
“What’s all this?” I was delighted, but unsure why he was bringing obviously feminine attire to Ger.
“I have two daughters – they’ve grown out of these years ago. My wife was going to donate them to charity when I remembered Ger telling me about the night you went to some kind of performance. That really made an impression on him.”
“Are you saying you think he might be transgender or something?”
“No, he’s a kid who’s comfortable with all kinds of clothes – that’s all. I wouldn’t worry about any of that – he’s very comfortable as a boy. Don’t you think?”
Chuckling and watching Ger, I was glad that I’d pressed for that short outing. “He is that.”
“Get dressed Ger. Going to Granddad’s with the lawyer and all the kids.” Matt told him. “Pool party!”
Ger dug through the box for something purple to wear, but he stopped when he got to the bottom of the box. “What’s this for?” He held up a slick plastic bag with a zipper—inside was a shirt and a small tie, slacks and socks.
On the side of the bed, Matt pulled Ger between his legs. “You and Glen are going to speak to some lawyers in a few weeks. You’ll go into a big room with a big table for everyone to sit around, and your lawyer will sit right beside you. This is your costume for that meeting. I hope you like the colors.”
“Are you going to be there too?”
“No, but there will be several lawyers who can help you if you need. Glen will talk to the guys after you, I’ll be waiting outside – we’ll get ice cream while Glen’s in his meeting.”
“My mom and dad – they’re going to be there?”
“No. They have to stay home. Can you tell the people what happened to you when you were kidnapped?”
“Again? Why are they going to ask me again? Is this the part where they try to trick me?”
“Well, there’s some rakes in the bunch, but you’ll have plenty of people there who’ll run interference for you. There are things to say to protect yourself if they make you feel afraid or upset, repeat after me, ‘I forgot.’”
“I forgot.”
“I don’t know.”
“I don’t know.”
Then Matt furrowed his brow, “Gimme a break, I’m just a kid!”
Ger laughed, but Matt was serious. “That’s your protection, so say it again and look serious. C’mon, you may have to be an actor for a few minutes.”
“Gimme a break, I’m just a kid.” Ger repeated halfheartedly.
“Say it like you mean it. You don’t have to yell – look the guy in the eye and tell him… Trust me, when you tell them to give you a break, they’ll all back off.”
They practiced for a while, and I heard laughter from downstairs where the women were talking. I went to my room to ready myself for a trip to the grandfather’s house and thank the lawyer for helping us.
Ruth brought maternity wear for Faith, and some baby equipment – a layette and several boxes of small diapers. They were doing their woman thing and talking about labor and delivery.
We got in the car and went to the attorney’s house – I was able to thank the lawyer and give Faith’s parents a hug. Matt pulled me away and we went back to the car. “No pool party for you.”
Once we were in the car again, I thanked him for helping Ger. “We all look forward to you coming – you’ve made a big difference, especially with Ger. He’s still lonely, but there’s light on the horizon now.”
“Part of the job.”
“Is there something we need to talk about?”
“Tonight, we’re going over to the Surf Side for a few moments, then back to the house – thought you might like to tie a few on since I’m driving – consider it R and R. I’m not gay, but I hear I’m good company.”
Well, that was a nice thought. An outing for me, but didn’t he know I wasn’t much of a drinker? Immediately, I thought I was going to get my tongue loosened and pumped for more information. It was a night out, and he was driving, so I thought I could pump some info from him as well.
* * *
The Surf Side is an old restaurant at the bottom of the cliffs north of town – view of the ocean, excellent food, and the bar had earned a reputation as a meat market for the young and upcoming female executives. They met the “old money” guys and mortgage bankers there.
We pulled in and went to the bar, got a good seat near the window. Matt ordered a beer, “On me tonight. Whatever you want.”
“Piña Colada.” I felt a twinge of guilt remembering Wayl but smiled and looked out to the sea – boats were passing in the sunset. The conversations were hushed and a piano player was playing softly. This was the early crowd.
“Wow! Check out that gal in the blue leather miniskirt at the bar – the one with the short fuzzy jacket. She looks too young to be here…” Matt said and pulled out his phone to snap a photo.
I looked toward the bar – sure enough there was a blonde hottie that looked around fifteen, maybe sixteen. I had to stare at the guy she was with – couldn’t quite place him. He was leaning against the old rosewood bar stroking along the slender thigh of the gal, obviously showing off his heavily-eyelashed Lolita. Wasn’t looking at her, but at him. His body language, his suit, the shape of the man’s jaw—it seemed so familiar and not in a comfortable way.
“Wait here.” I grabbed my glass and went to the bar for a closer inspection. Standing behind him, I asked the barkeep for more ice. Then, I smelled that expensive cologne. I stepped back a little to make sure and saw a slight bulge under the arm of his suit jacket as he reached for his drink. He was the investigator from the trooper’s office – the one I told to suck the sacks! All his insults and indignities rolled back inside my head.
I turned to walk away and he glanced over his shoulder. We stared at each other for a moment – he was trying to place me, but my face had changed – I’d lost weight. I turned and went back to the table, keeping him in my peripheral vision. He pulled his wallet out and handed his date a couple of bills. She pulled out her phone and made a call, then left.
“You know him?” Matt asked as I sat down.
“Yeah, you might know him as well. He’s the investigator that insulted me at the state trooper’s office after we left the casino.”
He sauntered over to our table, “How you been doing Mr. Nero? Life treating you any better these days?”
I motioned for him to sit, hoping for an apology. “Good enough. This is Matt.”
They nodded, “Name’s William Blackhawk. Nice to meetcha, call me Bill.” There was almost a smile dancing around the corners of his mouth. I couldn’t ask to see his ID, so I just nodded but suspected Blackhawk wasn’t his real name; found a sudden fondness for the name.
Matt rubbed his index finger on his chin giving me a sign. I took it to mean not to tell Bill that he was an agent. “So,” I leaned back, “Looks like life has been treating you pretty well – hot date.”
“Lots of ways to pay a fine.” He chortled and winked, grinning as he lifted his bourbon and water.
I only nodded.
“So, Matt – you’re a friend of – what is your name? I remember you didn’t have a pocket for your wallet…” He grinned.
“Glen – I was taking care of Geronimo.”
His face lit up, “Yeah, Glen. That kid was a firecracker – how’s he doing?”
“Good. Pretty good.” Nodded, watching the bastard closely.
“Matt – got a great friend here, real hero. You know that?”
“No. But he’s a good guy – hell of a swimmer. We were on the team at SDSU.” Matt lied like a champ. The innocuous chitchat continued into our second drinks; Blackhawk was probably on his fifth for the evening.
When Matt excused himself, Blackhawk leaned over and told me he’d heard through the grapevine I was going to testify against the cartel. “Living in the lap of luxury they say. The old man’s paying the bills, you got access to pussy and the little sissy boy – enjoy it while you can. As soon as you walk out of the courtroom, you’ll need a burial policy.”
Hadn’t thought I might need a burial policy and never considered making a will. I didn’t have anything or anyone to leave it to.
“You know, Blackfinger,” I began with a lifted eyebrow, “Your interview included some nasty insults – I’m sure the gay community wouldn’t like hearing about your profiling gay men pedophiles. Check your stats. By the way – how old was your date or was that Mrs. Blackflicker?”
His face reddened—but he didn’t say anything,
Matt returned, “Another round?”
Finally, he spoke, “Law enforcement is an arm of the courts—consider it a pre-screening, call it a check and balance system through the processing.” Bill mumbled like he knew what he was saying.
We dropped our conversation when Matt brought up the high tides – and they were. “Phase of the moon…” He commented. “But we better get back to the gals.” Matt stood, my cue that this was over.
Smiling amiably, “Nice meeting you again daddy Blackfairy – I mean Mr. Blackfinker.” I gave him back one of his cheesy grins. After perfunctory handshakes we left. When we got in the car, Matt circled the parking lot and parked again.
“Did you forget something?”
“No. Let’s wait for a minute. Get the weather on the radio.” I fiddled around on the dashboard while he watched the parking lot. Blackhawk left a few moments later, scanning the parking lot before he jumped in a shiny new black Corvette and left. Matt snapped some photos of Blackhawk.
“Do you know that guy?” I asked.
“Know of him.” He said. “Forget we met him.”
“He’s under investigation?” I asked – suspecting he’d gone rogue.
No answer. That was as good as a ‘yes’
“What was it you wanted to tell me tonight?”
“Stick with the information you gave to the troopers. No additional information. Be brief in the deposition – but no opinions and no additional information. Use the same phrases I taught Ger if they try to trip you up. Won’t be much longer now… Leave the kid and Faith a few printed photos and write a letter telling them you love them. When it happens, it’s going to happen fast. You may not have another chance.”
* * *
We picked up Ger and Faith and went home, thanking Matt for an evening out of the house. When Ger got in the house, he exploded like a verbal bomb telling me everything he’d eaten, and about the big blow-up animals in the pool. Faith was in high spirits as well – she’d gotten to play the piano and sing. She was able to visit with her mom and the other young mother.
Ger fell asleep quickly and I lay him on my bed in the guest room – his room was a mess with costumes strewn all over. Faith checked the security system and we were down for the night.
Still unsettled about Bill Blackhawk, I couldn’t sleep, and pulled Ger close. He wasn’t aware of the waves of corruption that kept erupting around the kidnapping. I figured he didn’t need to know. I wondered who I could trust in this mess – and I had to lean on Matt for now.
Stroking my hands along the sleeping boy, I could see he’d grown. His legs were longer and we had to order new shoes online for him. Pulling him against me, I smelled a little boy sweat and kissed his neck. “Just a little longer, my love.”
He turned against me, his face on my chest, his legs wrestling with the sheet, “Hug me tight.” When I pressed him against me, my hand on his back, I squeezed a few tears from my own eyes. Damn, our lives were a mess – but we had a moment now and then. Things stayed pretty much the same for the next several weeks though we saw Peter maybe once every two weeks, if that.
* * *
The lawyer’s family took Ger to Dizzyworld for the day. He came home and fell on the couch to sleep. Faith, was singing as she moved around the house, I actually cleaned the gutters. Life was calm; the calm before the storm.
In Ger’s room we organized his costumes, but mostly I made him try them on – we’d save the smaller costumes for the baby. He made me take a picture of each one that he tried on as we thinned down his theatrical wardrobe then ate lunch by the pool. Since Faith had been ordering all our food online, things were a little more normal. Egg salad with sprouts on whole wheat was okay—baked tortilla chips are always awful.
After Ger and I ‘watered’ the sunflowers, Faith asked him to nurse for a while. She sat on the chaise lounge and he sat on her lap. She held him close while he suckled – I didn’t say anything. This was something Peter used to do before Ger was born; gratefully it wasn’t on my list of duties. Faith said it helped relieve the pressure. That pressure meant the birth would happen soon.
While Ger nursed I asked about the midwife, “You’re not going to wait till the last minute to call, are you? Got to give Peter time to get here and what am I going to do if you have to go to the hospital?”
“Get my wallet, I’ve got my ID in there, and my father’s insurance card, just in case. The midwife will take me to Sunset Hills.”
“Sunset Hills is a drug rehab place—unacceptable!”
“They have a private room at the back and a doctor on staff all the time – plenty of nurses—the feds keep it ready anyone they’re hiding.”
Nodding, “Okay. By the way, I haven’t seen Peter for almost a week now. Is he okay?”
“He called the other night – still in Las Playas in production and going to work from there.”
“Tell him to come back, I have a feeling it won’t be much longer.”
“I know, I can feel the changes – the baby’s lower – aiming toward the birth canal. Maybe the next several days.”
It was good to see my boy getting affection from his mom, but I went in and reviewed signs and symptoms of impending birth and what would be expected from me, paying close attention to the indicators of problems. I calculated this would happen over the weekend.
As I was watching the video, Ger came in. “Will you swim with me?”
“You want your butt tickled?” He grinned and nodded.
“I need to check on Faith, and we’ll go to your bedroom – need to finish packing.”
On the patio, Faith was sleeping soundly. I went upstairs and got my computer bringing it to Ger’s room. Online I found some videos of dance recitals and kids in their dance outfits. We lay on the bed for a while and watched, “See that little girl with that frilly stuff. Don’t you have one of those tutu things?”
He jumped up and the piles of costumes started flying around the room, “Here.”
“Take all your clothes off and put on the tutu and one of those crowns. Dance for me.” I found some music while he undressed, and he handed me a stretchy headband with a flower to wear. It was small, but I fit it on my forehead with the pink petals hanging between my eyebrows.
Laying against his headboard I watched him twirl and spin, his tiny rod bouncing under the pink netting, he was grinning as his limber spine curved and bent dramatically with the music. The muscles in his legs and arms tensed, almost defined, and he pointed his toes and kicked his legs giving me peeks at the place between his legs and the thready pink ridge I loved to caress.
His shadow played across the floor behind him as the afternoon sun streamed in glistening on the thin layer of moisture on his skin. He glowed – dark hair flashing around his head as he spun. My eyes began to burn as I remembered him being taped, gagged and blinded. The filthy rags forced between his sweet lips; the tip of the knife at his almost sheer foreskin. My heart ached, I wanted him as my son and that sudden thought brought a thick, dark feeling inside me – I’d never have a son. All the classrooms of students wouldn’t be enough – they couldn’t make up for my Ger.
When the music stopped, I applauded, “Bravo! Bravo!”
Ger jumped on my lap grinning and I held him against me – his skin was moist with sweat sticking to mine as he straddled my lap. “Now you can tickle my butt.”
“Let me hold you till you catch your breath.” My hands caressed every part of him, my chest jerking – this boy had kept his easy grace despite all we’d been through. I lifted his torso over my head, his hair curtained his tanned face and he smiled at me, limp but still breathing fast. “I love you.”
“I know.” He grinned, “Tickle my butt!”
“Kiss me first.” Lowering his sweet face to mine, he kissed my lips and I squeezed him against me – for those brief moments, my world was solid, calm and sure.
He rubbed his stiff little rod on my groin and settled his face at my neck, “I love you Glen.”
“I know, I don’t tickle just any boy’s butt.”
Reaching behind him, I untied his tutu and turned him on his back, pressing him underneath me, and felt my erection gaining girth. Pulling his tutu off, I pressed my face against his chest licking and sniffing. I moved downward, needing to taste his skin, and inhale his boy-musk. Pushing his legs open, I felt his fingers in my hair. Couldn’t hold myself back, but took his entire package in my mouth, and sucked, running my tongue over every tiny wrinkle and along his sweet shaft. Sucking, sucking like I could take him inside me, every part of him.
Glancing at the night table, I saw a small cylinder – looked like lipstick, but I grabbed it and popped off the lid. The smell of pineapple filled the air around us. It was some kind of lip gloss. It had a fine sheen, probably some glittery stuff. Wonder where he got it and had to think he swiped it months ago when we’d gone to meet Wayl.
I screwed the waxy cylinder forward and began rubbing it on Ger’s hot hole. He lifted his knees, holding them tightly against his chest, grunting softly. Biting and sucking softly, he lifted his butt higher, wanting more. I pushed the slippery cylinder inside him.
“Tickle my butt, hurry up!”
I didn’t. Instead, I ran the gloss upward toward his sac, lubricating his short perineum generously, then tossed it aside. This time, I used my index finger, rubbing and pressing into his hot hole. Ger’s breathing sped, he was making soft moans. His fingertips pressed into my scalp.
At my first knuckle, he reminded me to hurry. I didn’t, but just sucked and rubbed my tongue along his frenulum feeling the tiny, taught string. My tongue explored his little slit and my other hand went to his tiny balls – I’d better check to see if they were still sensitive. Oh, yeah – they were.
Twisting my finger inside him, I pressed it as far as possible, exploring his heat and imagining my cock that deep inside him. Fucking him slowly, I felt his feet on my shoulders and his body tremble.
Then, just for the treasure of giving him a surprise when he was enjoying his bliss, I began biting, sucking his tender rod, I finger fucked him rapidly, making every stroke press along his miniscule glands. His hips responded and he pulled my hair.
“Ah! Ah!”
A few more sucks, a few more strokes and his body tensed. His knees pressed against my head and I felt two tiny spasms of orgasm around my finger. Shit, I couldn’t stop myself; my cum rushed up my rod and out in several spurts, spotting his tutu and the designer bed spread, and didn’t care.
As his body relaxed, I took him in my arms. His eyes were closed. “Did you steal that lip gloss from one of the performers when you met Wayl?”
He didn’t open his eyes, but grinned. “Maybe.”
“Not a good thing to start stealing. Ask for what you want.”
“Do I have to give it back? I like it – it smells like tutti-fruity.”
I grinned thinking about some queen using the tube of gloss after it was in Ger’s butt.
“We’ll see…” I had to kiss him several times, and he kissed my face with those sweet, tiny red lips.
That whole day went well after our shared entertainment. We got his room cleaned up and packed, and I told him he’d have to sleep with me or Faith until we left. He stopped and looked at me when I said “left.”
“We won’t be here much longer. That’s all I know.”
* * *
We took the mirrors to my room and shut the door to his room forever. I went through the house gathering all the laundry, tossing a large ball of linens down the stairs, straightened the beds upstairs and came back down.
Packing up my few things was easy, Ger pulled the one suitcase with my shoebox and a few clothes to the settee – I’d live out of my suitcase. Then he went out to skate on the driveway.
Faith was out watching Ger but came in the house with beads of sweat on her forehead as I made salad for dinner. As the evening moved forward, I finished the laundry and vacuumed the house, readying to clean the pool. Faith began pacing the hallways and the yard.
“You okay?” I had to ask.
“I called the midwife. Supposed to call her back in an hour.” She said calmly.
“Did you call Peter?”
“Yeah. He didn’t answer, so I texted him, then I emailed him.” It had been over a week since I’d seen Peter, I supposed he called Faith.
Riding on the afternoon bliss, I screwed up my courage and took a photo of the lip gloss Ger’d filched and sent it to Wayl. “Is this yours?”
No answer, I wondered if he would even remember me.
* * *
The next few days were bittersweet. Fortunately, Faith had a false alarm, but the birth would be soon. Big-brother-to-be was excited, rubbing Faith’s belly hoping for a sister so they could share clothes. I’ll admit I was somewhat curious about how this birth would go after reviewing all the videos.
We’d seen a few brief snippets on the news about the drug cartel being infiltrated and raided by drug enforcement agents from several nations and Interpol. They only came on from time to time, and I’d called the lawyer. He only said to be ready for depositions and to write out a victim impact statement for myself, then he asked me to help Faith and Ger write one.
Maybe we wouldn’t have to go to court – “Could I just submit a written account of what happened instead of dragging Ger and me through depos?”
“You can bring your notes, but probably can’t use them. There’s a lot at stake with these convictions so they’re going to try every trick they can turn.”
“Do you know when yet?”
“Should be within the next ten days, maybe two weeks. Matt will contact you and I’ll be with you but I can’t say much.”
“You know Faith’s about to have the baby. Could you ask your wife or Faith’s mom call her? That always picks up her spirits.”
“There’s been some, well, – disagreements between Faith’s parents. But I’ll ask my wife to call.” Before he hung up, he thanked me for taking care of Faith and Ger, “Despite all the family problems.”
I didn’t ask, couldn’t handle any more bad news.
* * *
That Wednesday, Faith was grouchy and didn’t want to talk to anyone or eat. She did drink four fruit smoothies but bitched about the ice. Not really knowing what to do, I grabbed her around the shoulders, “Mamacita, would you please have this baby for us? We want our old Faith back – we love her when she’s not grumping about frozen water!”
“I’m worried about Peter…”
Wasn’t anything I could do about that. “Hey! You got two experts here to help you, and,” I put Ger’s hand on her belly with mine. “We want this baby tonight – tomorrow at the latest. Time to show up and suit up little Melody!”
“Melody! That’s cute!” Ger liked the name, too.
“Put some music on and let’s sing our way through this in the pool!”
Corny plan, but it was an old classroom trick to get kids distracted and later refocus. We spent the rest of the day in the pool, and it seemed to relieve the stress on Faith’s back. She called the midwife later that evening while I made oatmeal cookies from a recipe Ger found on a video site. Cookies and fruit for dinner, then a movie, but Faith’s feet were very swollen and she had a few contractions. Her back hurt and I mentally went down the ‘impending birth’ checklist again.
“Melody’s on her way.” I told her, and Ger sat up and went to his mom, rubbing her feet.
Immediately I hosed down the patio and brought all the towels and basket full of things for the birth, then I went and opened the layette, taking the soft blanket and a tiny diaper. I was ready.
No, none of this was on the list Peter gave me, but what else could I do? No decent human could stress this situation further – that wouldn’t help anyone. Finding a CD Faith had made, I put it on and we sang as we paced the yard until the midwife came. Forwarding a few photos to Peter, I told him we were down to a few hours. “Get home! Your second child is almost here.”
No response, as usual. But I got a text message a few moments later. It was Wayl – “That’s my pineapple lip slicker – I wondered where it went! You can keep it alongside your self-esteem – if you happen to find it, boy.”
“Boy?” Ouch!
* * *
The birth went well – no moaning or screaming or cursing, but a lot of straining and grunting when the baby’s head stretched its way through Faith’s body. That had to hurt, and she was looking forward to the baby in her arms. We all squatted along with Faith on the patio and she let Ger feel the head of the child as it was emerging. She asked me, but I told her I had to get ready for the afterbirth and went to the garage to find some kind of container. All the bodily fluids and tissues made me goosey.
When I came back, Ger had his face contorted into a frown, and I looked at Faith. “It’s a boy.” She said.
I had to laugh, and she offered the little bundle to me. Damn! I was that small at one time myself. He was so light, a little over six pounds, and so red! But he had a head full of dark hair and it seemed his genitals were oversized for such a small body. Handing him back, “Well, maybe Mel, but probably not Melody.”
“Call my dad, tell him I want the paperwork.” That was an odd request, but I sent him a message with a photo of Faith, Ger, the midwife and the new baby she would name Edward. Her father and both her sons all named Edward? Three Edwards in the family seemed like too many, but it wasn’t my position to say anything. Where was Peter in this naming scheme?
“I’m going to call him Bee-bee.” I said. “We can wear yellow and black.”
“I’m going to call him Tyrannosaurus Rex.” Ger said, “He’s going to be big and fierce.”
“Rex! That sounds good!” The midwife commented.
We called him Rex, but his name was Edward.
The midwife waited around for a while to make sure the bleeding slowed, and the baby was doing well, then went online and registered the birth. Faith didn’t give the name of the father, I figured she was royally pissed with Peter.
Ger and I made gazpacho with crackers and cheese. We fluffed the chaise lounge comfortable for Faith and the baby while we ate dinner together on the patio. That didn’t go as bad as I thought, and I was grateful we were all safe and healthy.
* * *
Two days later we still hadn’t heard from Peter, but I got a call from Matt.
Bad news. The reason we hadn’t heard from Peter was because he was dead—been dead for several days. His ID and phone were found in the desert along with some of his equipment; his body had been dumped near the border in a dry ravine.
“Let’s give Faith a few days to recuperate. Just keep on doing what you’re doing. I’ll bring Ruth on Monday and we’ll give her the news. Okay?”
“What happened?”
“Don’t know all the details yet. They’re still going over the scene and the evidence they found.” Matt said.
I didn’t believe he didn’t know what happened. “Okay. Have you heard when Ger and I need to be deposed or go to court?”
“Should be soon. I’ll try to get that information for you before we meet on Monday.”
With that load on my mind, I decided to keep everyone busy. Couldn’t make them happy, but we cleaned and made a place for little Rex in the den alongside a pallet on the couch for Faith. I didn’t want her on the stairs with the baby, and she laughed saying she never felt better. I didn’t want to take any chances. Having everyone close when I knew the odds of blocking us from squealing on the cartel were increasing calmed me. I had nothing other than my wits to defend us.
I refocused on getting all of us ready to move; leave forever. After depositions and court, we’d be split up and go into the protection program with new identities – probably move to different cities.
Sure, I thought about Ger and his future. New school, new friends, new house; he’d manage, I was sure. All the love and care I’d invested in him would come to nothing. That stung. But I put on a good face and continued compacting things the best I could for our impending diaspora by thinking, “new baby bringing a new start.” Maybe I was preparing myself for the sudden loss of my Ger.
He slept with Faith on the couch, sometimes nursing alongside his new brother. I slept in the lounger and did the diaper changes. Never thought I’d be doing that but seems like babies get you into their routine quickly. Rex wasn’t a crier or a screamer, but a prodder and a grunter. He was calm and happy when he wasn’t sleeping. It may seem odd, but I enjoyed cleaning him and talking to him while his tummy was full. He’d smile at me and I could see he was doing well, wiggling and waving his arms and legs for a few moments. It seemed to help Faith as well – we were all close and the house was peaceful.
After everyone was asleep, I worked on my victim’s impact statement. Making an outline I listed all the opportunities that had been taken from me. Rehabilitation, physical therapy, potential part-time work, return to the mainstream of life. The loss of my home and personal items I listed briefly. Then I described the mental stressors, then the damage done to my relationships, though Faith and I had come through as closer friends – it was Ger I alluded to saying that the people I loved were ripped from my heart forever.
I forwarded this to Faith as an idea what hers might look like and went to bed with damp eyes.
* * *
On Monday Matt and Ruth came and dropped the bad news about Peter. No one cried.
No, I didn’t miss Peter – he hadn’t been there much. As I looked back on our relationship, there wasn’t any ‘bro bonding.’ Never trusted him, and he seemed like his passion in life didn’t coincide with the role he’d chosen – there was the incident with Faith’s father. Then I remembered Faith’s naming ritual and the paperwork Granddad brought over after the birth of Rex. Strange.
My sorrows were about losing Ger. He’d been at my side constantly for these past months – over a year, and in my bed almost every night. We swam every afternoon and, yes, a lot of ‘butt tickling’ occurred. It was the physical closeness and easy love we shared that I’d miss.
Matt and Ruth stayed into the evening, talking with Faith. Matt came out to the pool later and gave me the warning signs of post-natal depression. “She’s facing a future alone with two children. I’m sure her father will help, probably get her a nanny, but her world is going to be very different, very soon.” He looked at Ger, “You’re going to talk to the lawyers on Wednesday – Glen and I will be waiting for you, but you have to go in and be brave.” He reminded Ger about what to say and told him to wear his new clothes.
Then he looked at me. “Are you ready?”
I could only nod. Ger would vanish from my life. My old friend Faith would be gone and this family that had become somewhat mine would be erased entirely in a few moments. Seemed like the responsibility I’d taken on pressed me toward some fulfilment – I’d miss caring for people I loved.
* * *
Until we got Matt’s phone call Faith and I carefully kept the tele on channels without any news knowing it would only upset us.
Matt did call on Tuesday, and I laid out our clothes for the next day; the deposition. Faith didn’t have much baby equipment – and I packed her bag and a smaller one with diapers and wipes; one-piece stretch outfits. Ger and I packed his play clothes and costumes. We were ready that night, sleeping in our oldest clothes to toss in the trash as we readied to leave each other and this house forever.
Quickly, I noted a Faith’s email address, and Wayl’s phone number – just in case. Other than that, there was no one. My family had abandoned me by silence after I came out while I was in high school. I couldn’t follow their expected plans; I was out of the entire community I’d grown up in and known all my life. I’d lost my gay friends and co-workers through my accident. Now, I’d lost everyone I’d gathered around me for the third time in my life.
Wednesday, Ruth took Faith and Rex in her car – we’d already said out goodbyes. Ger and I rode with Matt to a small office building in Lemon Grove and were escorted into a waiting area. Ger was taken into the library with ten men and three women representing different clients and the feds. Ger went in first holding the hand of our lawyer, glanced at me before he went into the room.
Matt waited with me in the lobby for over an hour, explaining that Peter had been involved with creating porn with several under-aged Latinos; he’d tried to sell the videos online and was ambushed by a gang wanting a cut. That made me glad that Faith and Ger were out of that mess.
Then Ger came out of the library grinning. The lawyers trailed out behind him. They all had their poker faces on. “I was great!” He said. “I told them to gimme a break, just like Matt said and they shut up!”
“You’re always great, my love.” Hugging him between my knees, “Are you finished?”
“Yep. You’re next.” He said. I couldn’t kiss him, but I wanted to.
* * *
When the lawyers resumed their stations in the library, I went in with my folder of notes in hand. I was told to put them aside. The grilling started after I identified myself. By this time, and facing a bleak future, I was resigned to repeating myself and had slipped my wilderness badge into my pocket to help explain the rope business. A few of the attorneys smiled as they passed it around. We were in the library for four hours with only one break – the feds wanted me to finish and get out of Dodge as quickly as possible.
In the car, Matt told Ger that he would take him back to his mother, and I was going to a hotel for the rest of the week. We sat in the backseat, holding hands. “You know I love you and I always will. We won’t be together again, but we’ll be in each other’s heart – right?” Ger and I were both in tears as Matt let me out in front of a taco shop telling me to get lunch – he’d be back in twenty minutes.
He was back soon without Ger, and with a resigned look on his face. “I always hate this part.”
“Give me an idea what’s going to happen next.” I said, drinking the rest of my tea.
“Same thing that’s happening with Faith, Ger and the baby.” He ordered a cola. “Six weeks in a hotel, then on to your new home. While you’re in the hotel, we’re hoping that some of the cartel will sell-out and sing for a lesser sentence. Then, we’ll go on to trial with whomever wants to face the judge.” He ordered a burrito to go.
“Then what?” I asked. “This is going to court, one way or another. Am I going to have to testify?”
“The kidnapping is a small part of a larger case, but it’s important. The feds always have the money laundering and drug trafficking to fall back on – but they’re pushing to keep you out of court and use your statement. You did a good job. As soon as we find out if you’ll be testifying, you’re going to get your different look and a new life.”
He drove me to Escondido to a pastel pink stucco hotel and took me inside. “There’s a café across the street and here’s a credit card to use. Get what you want; enjoy yourself for a month and a half.” He stared at me as my eyes welled with tears. “No contact with anyone other than me. Let me have your phone.”
He handed me a very basic phone with only calls and text messages available. “If it gets rough, and it will, call me. I’ll send someone out.”
That’s when I understood why he hated this part – I imagined he’d left people to their own suicides. “I’ll call first.”
“Good.” He turned to leave but stopped. “You were incredible with Ger and Faith. Thanks for helping them through all this. It’s been a pleasure knowing you – if you weren’t in the program, I’d like to know you as a friend.”
Sincere words and sad message.
* * *
Six empty weeks with only cable television and my computer to keep me company. Went swimming a few times, but it wasn’t as fun alone. Long walks through the eucalyptus groves in the evening helped a little and I tried focusing on my future – clean start and all that, but my mind kept going back to Ger, Faith and Rex. The only thing I could feel toward Peter was anger and some satisfaction that he’d gotten his just rewards. Then, there was Faith’s parents – what a mess! I had to shove that thought aside – what I thought about their relationships was definitely sick.
Every Friday I called Matt for an update with the legal proceedings. Finally, on a Monday he called me and told me to pack. “Up the coast tomorrow morning – I’ll be by at six. It’s all over in San Diego for you.”
We left early and stopped outside LA for breakfast and went on to Santa Barbara – another hotel room in another pink stucco hotel. Matt told me to unpack and get back in the car, we had to go to the doctor. “For your touch-up.”
Entering through another back door, Matt escorted me to an exam room in a medical office, “They’ll do it this afternoon; you’ll stay overnight and we’ll get you back to the hotel tomorrow if there’s no complications.”
What could I say? Facial alteration would give me some freedom.
The doctor came in, smiling and donned a white coat. “Let’s see here – oh, you have beautiful skin.” She eyed my face, then grabbed my arm and pulled several vials of blood and took them out of the office returning almost immediately. She lifted my face to the light and felt along my cheek bones.
“Do I have any choice in what you’ll do?” I asked.
“Not really, we’re going to very gently change your features as much as possible with the least amount of surgery. Is there something special you want?” She asked, making a few notes, then taking a picture with her cell phone.
“The excess skin along the jaw could go. I’ve lost a lot of weight.”
She only nodded, and made a drawing while Matt tried to see what she was doing. She shot him a look and he backed off grinning.
“Laser hair removal around your eyebrows, and re-shape the hairline; I’m giving you a widow’s peak…” She looked at my ears. “Gonna tighten up some skin with a small scar inside your sideburns and behind your ears. And I think heighten your cheekbones – just slip in a little silicone to give you a more French look.”
“Can you show me what I’ll look like?”
She hit a few buttons on her cell phone and showed me a slightly different man. He looked okay. “Could you put a cleft in my chin?”
“Not sure about that. Let me see how things work out.” She winked, but I’m going to suggest you try a beard. I’d prefer you didn’t shave for a week.”
“How long will it take to heal?”
“I’ll load you with antibiotics and you’ll need to eat very lightly but often, drink lots of water and exercise moderately to keep your metabolism working out the changes. Stay out of the sun for the rest of the week and use sun block after that.” She thought for a minute, “Should see the swelling go down in about ten days. I’m going to see you again in a few days, but call Matt if there’s bleeding, swelling or fever. I’ll be over immediately. Do not call 9-1-1.”
Within a few moments I was escorted down the hall, undressed and given pain killers and a nose tube for the gas. Then, my hairline was altered and my eyebrows and forehead felt the laser – I fell asleep to the smell of singed hair.
* * *
Several hours later, Matt shook my shoulder, “You alright?”
It took a few minutes, but I woke up on a leatherette couch with a sheet over me, still in the hospital gown. Matt brought food – pozole and hot tortillas.
We ate together at a small cabinet. “Stay here tonight – I’m going back to San Ysidro. I’m handing you off to another agent – Rudy. He’ll be here in the morning.”
“Thanks for all you did.” I said, sipping my soup. “By the way – what ever happened to William Blackfeather – if that was his real name.”
“Scoggins? He’s still with the state – just not working for ‘em anymore. Got shot out of the saddle.” Matt smirked and nodded his head.
I nodded, relieved about that.
* * *
The next few days flew past. I slept often, then got up and took the antibiotics, and checked for swelling and fever. At night, I walked several miles and started seeing the swelling come down and my skin return to its normal color. Yeah, I had a hot-looking cleft in my chin but I wondered what it would attract at the bars. Rudy came by once a day to check on me and sent a photo to the doctor. Rudy wasn’t as friendly as Matt, but he didn’t know me well either.
After ten days, he took me to the doctor’s office again – seven at night, but we went in and the doctor was waiting for us. She took a photo, “Got your new name yet?”
“Randolph Aaron Stein.” Rudy answered and handed me a brown envelope. “Here’s all your paperwork.”
After the doctor removed the tiny staples, she smiled. “Enjoy your new face – it’s going to get you the date you want.” She gave me another tube of ointment that was supposed to keep the scarring to a minimum and a small pallet of makeup to cover the minute spots and bruises until they faded.
We left for the hotel, and I packed my bag yet again, feeling a little better. At least I was presentable though sexy and masculine weren’t in my part of my presentation – I was still too paranoid to want any attention.
Rudy sat at the gray Formica table and pulled out a map of the US. “Time to make a decision about where you want to start your life over.” He pushed a sixty-three thousand dollar check across the map. “Open a bank account immediately when you get there.”
He pulled out his phone and checked a few messages. “Okay, we got several locations that we consider safe.” He pointed to Lubbock, Texas first. I looked it up on my computer.
“Nah. Too hot.”
Then, he suggested Columbus, Ohio—in a suburb. It seemed alright; very small school district scattered across a large county. More school bus drivers than librarians.
“Rochester, New York. You might like that.” He offered. It looked okay – university town. Some potential there; bitter cold winters though.
“Anything else?” I asked.
“Kind of out of the way, but Long Beach – Washington state. Very small town – built around an old train depot; draws a lot of tourists. You’ll have to reapply for your teaching license but you got a degree in the envelope and a clean record. Your birth certificate shows you were born in Oklahoma and the places you’ve lived and worked are all in the paperwork. Study it on your way.”
“There’s only three-hundred students in the Long Beach Elementary School…” I researched Long Beach further. “Will I still receive my disability income?”
“Yeah, they’ve held the checks while we changed your identity but don’t worry about the start-up money, we made it work with your benefits. Your checks will start again when you send your new address. It’s in the paperwork, you have a check-list.”
Sixty-three thousand plus the cash I had on hand. I figured that might buy me a small place in a damp coastal town. “Let’s go with Long Beach – being near the ocean would be good.”
“Yeah. That would be my choice as well. Maybe you could become the principal of the school one day.” Smiling, I reviewed the paperwork inside the envelope. We packed up and left for the bus station.
Good bye, paradise. Hello Long Beach, Washington State.
* * *
Took several days, but I kept my head in a magazine or memorizing my new history until I arrived in front of the old Tinker Hotel. The town smelled like the ocean. I got a single room and tossed my bag inside then went out to main drag enjoying the moist air on my skin – yep, I asked for directions to the bank within the hour. People were friendly, not nosy – seemed they were accustomed to strangers and welcomed travelers.
In the café in the old train depot, I went for coffee every morning until I got my bearings. An old man came in every day at the same time, and we struck up a conversation. He had been born in the area and knew all the dirt as well as the news – there wasn’t much of either.
Every Friday we reviewed the real estate listings and found a few cottages and houses. We went to visit them in his 1973 Volvo Sport Wagon. Peculiar car, but dependable. Most of the cabins and bungalows them were too far from town, off the main roads. We went and met the sellers, agents and neighbors.
When people asked me why a young man chose to live in such an out of the way place, I told them that I only had one life and that peace, quiet and geoduck were my priorities. That always got a laugh but most citizens shook their head in agreement.
There were a couple of gay bars in town. I avoided them until I could get myself established and have a place to bring a date. Maybe I needed to work on my self-esteem and become accustomed to my new face. Getting a place was first and I didn’t want to throw all my cash into real estate. So, getting a job was in order; maybe I could tutor for a while.
My bud, the old man Paul was a rough old buzzard, but he opened his home to me after several months of searching for decent habitation near town. I rented a room with him; month-to-month, casual contract. That worked out well for both of us. He warned me about the gossips and trouble makers, and I was able to help with the chores he didn’t like doing – like grocery shopping and keeping the yard trimmed and laundry.
Paul had a metal detector and he showed me how to sweep across the sand at the beach looking for coins or bits of something valuable. I doubted I would find anything, but we enjoyed our walks and came home with pockets full of old bottle caps and trash. We found a few interesting things, but mostly I enjoyed the peace of waves lapping the shore and the sea bird’s cries at sunrise.
* * *
Through the winter, we hunkered down for the cooler weather. Paul was a great cook, and for the first time in years, someone cooked real man-food for me and we played dominos at night. I showed him the internet and he’d make a list during the day to research at night. Some of the old coins he’d found years ago turned out to bring in cash, and he was delighted.
We used those funds to go into Seattle. Steps at Pike Street Market were off limits for him due to his arthritis, but we lunched near the docks and drove up the Columbia River Gorge to an old WPA lodge. I got a good photo of him in front of the moss-covered stone work. Good time for him, and it kept my mind off my empty life.
* * *
Through our first year together we developed a strong respect and admiration for each other. I learned he was from a very stoic family – the complete opposite from Faith and her attachment parenting. It was almost painful for him to show any emotion except about the city council decisions and county politics.
We struck an odd balance in the house – often I took the lead in opening discussions and pressing for decisions. We did need a new washer and dryer. The old porch was rotting – that discussion took weeks. Paul reviewed every detail of every estimate as though an estimate was gospel truth. When he did make a decision, it was usually very good. A month later we had a new back porch and I chipped in for the washer and dryer – or else it would have taken several more months.
When I reminded Paul we didn’t have to go to the washeteria any longer, he only nodded but and slipped me a check for the appliances. Though he didn’t smile, he had a beer; that was an indication of his self-satisfaction and his world was right.
* * *
As spring came, we saw a few houses come on the market, but we were comfortable and waited until the school semester ended to see who would move. Paul was becoming anxious and I didn’t understand why, though I asked. I figured it was the anniversary of a death, or some tragic event in his life. Summers were my time of remembrances and mourning.
The reason for Paul’s changed nature was strange—seemed to be my fault. It all came tumbling out one night after the evening news. The Seattle LGBTQ made an announcement about the upcoming parade on the news and the street closures.
“I’m going into Seattle for the weekend, enjoy the parade and the festival.” I announced. Sure, I blushed – talking about anything related to sex with Paul was off-limits. He left the room if a tampon commercial came on the tele; a condom discussion on a talk show sent him into a silent tizzy for several days.
“I know you’re a homosexual.” He said from behind the newspaper. “You never talk about women or want to date any. You go to the gay bar. Nadine from the café calls me when you go in.” He said.
“Yep, that would be me going into a gay bar and ordering a cold one. This is going to be a big event in Seattle, wanna come along?”
“Hmmm.” I heard him from behind the newspaper. I’d expected a resounding “No.”
I continued sorting and folding the laundry.
After about five minutes, “I’ll go to the parade with you. Haven’t been to anything but the kite festival for years.” He said.
I was stunned by those comments volleyed from behind the front page; couldn’t say a word I was so baffled. He wanted to go to a big, loud gay event? “Really?”
“Sure.” He said, resolutely from somewhere on the third page of the paper.
“Are you gay?” I pushed the paper down to see his face.
“Of course not. For years I felt like I was some strange bird, and I’d always be alone. And here we are – we live together and get along fine. Maybe I love you in a very paternal way, I guess. Don’t have any lust at my age but I love you for taking time to appreciate my ways – I have a deep – well, a deep admiration, I guess, for you. Doesn’t that count as a relationship worth being proud of?”
“Paul, it’s a parade for people who love people of the same sex. Are you suggesting we join the Unitarian contingent? They’re famous for indecision. And what’s this ‘at my age’ mean? Remember who does the laundry around here – if you want to keep your lustful secrets, then rinse your own boxers out.”
“A parade—too much for my joints!” That was an easy dodge, but the man had just taken one of the biggest steps forward in his life – he almost admitted love. A controversial love at that. He loved me in some distant, peculiar way by what he said. Though he’d always accepted my often hesitant but loving gestures, I couldn’t push Paul for any more than he was willing to give.
Grinning, “Okay old man, let’s dress like two strange birds and bring our lawn chairs – we’ll get a good place on the curb early, fill the thermos with prune juice and load up on chondroitin capsules before we leave the house. It’ll be fun.”
From that night forward, we painted and glued two old baseball hats into what looked like birds. “Bluebirds of happiness.” I heard him mutter one night as he used tweezers to glue shiny black sequin bird-eyes on our hats. I’d never seen Paul so excited about anything and he was smiling, proud of his work.
“Paul, when we get back, I’m going online to study to get my teaching certification and apply at the school district.” I told him the night before we left.
“That’s good. A young man needs to make his way. Will your back be strong enough?”
“I think so. Are you going to be alright while I’m gone during the days?” Gee, I sounded like his wife – a wife without any conjugal action.
“Probably. I’d like to see you working – you have a good mind and an education. It’ll be good for both of us. I like children and I always loved school.”
* * *
The two strange birds made their appearance at the parade and wandered around the festival having a great time. Paul brought his knapsack to gather brochures and keychains. He was like that.
I had to bite my tongue when it happened, but poor Paul was dumbstruck when a man hit on him or a twink flirted. He wasn’t ready for that and began stuttering; blushed furiously. I took a few photos and told him to say he was nested in Long Beach. The distance was enough to deter further complications, but his head full of shiny, gray hair and distinguished air drew a lot of attention. He was a lanky man and moved slowly and gracefully – mostly due to his arthritis, but he had his flair.
We ate at a popular gay bar and Paul ordered a pitcher of beer – unusual act for him, and he wanted to celebrate. He seemed comfortable with the crowd in the gay bar and enjoyed a short performance by several of the drag queens lip-syncing popular songs.
In our hotel room that night, Paul fell asleep in his tee shirt and hat. Taking his shoes off, I promised myself that next year we’d plan a more exacting schedule with less walking. When I lifted his backpack, I found out why he was so tired – it weighed about six pounds – he must have gotten one of every brochure offered.
In the other bed, I went on a national hook-up site and looked for Wayl. I wasn’t sure if I should but since I’d changed and lived so far, I decided to respond to his skimpy profile. Just like he’d told me, he was fussy and said so. “No riff-raff, no one-nighters.” Cropping a photo of me and Paul, I responded to his posting with a picture of me in my goofy hat and tee shirt. “Aren’t you a star?”
No response.
* * *
It took Paul almost a week to get over the excitement of the parade – he read, questioned and critiqued every brochure and information page he’d picked up, all six pounds of them. We went online and found photos of ourselves on the Pride Seattle website and beamed. That was the first time I ever enjoyed such a big gay event and I stopped, “Ger would have loved that.” I thought and my eyes stung.
Paul and I both used medical marijuana and started our day with several hits, then coffee and toast. After that we walked to the beach with the metal detector. That morning was the same. We found a few coins and some junk and were walking back to the house when we saw a man walking toward us on the beach but paid him no mind – probably a beachcomber looking for driftwood or shells. He wore a suit with his jacket slung over his shoulder and his shirtsleeves rolled up to his forearms. As we got closer, he came straight toward us. I stared at him as he studied my face.
“Randolph Stein?”
“Yes.” It was Matt – I almost hugged him but stopped, he could bear bad news. “Good to see you. This is my friend Paul. We’re looking for our big break – gold doubloons. Paul, this is Matt, an old friend.” Matt joined us as we walked back to the house.
“Is everything okay?” I asked as we stepped onto the porch. Paul went to make coffee.
Matt’s face was serious. “I hate to have to tell you this – but I wouldn’t let them send anyone else.” He turned away toward the sea. “Faith and her father are dead.” He handed me an envelope.
I plopped down into one of the old metal chairs in disbelief. “Where’s Ger? What happened?”
“Read the papers.” The envelope was thick with reports, legal wording regarding Ger and his conservatorship. Upon a brief review, it looked like the deaths had been carefully planned and Faith wanted me to take Ger. “Where’s the baby, Rex?”
“Faith’s mother is going to raise the baby, but Faith wanted you to take Ger.”
“What did the investigation turn up?”
“An argument between Faith and her father… She got his gun out and shot him in the head, then turned the gun on herself.” He said and looked away. “She was pregnant again.”
“Matt, I suspect that the boys are Faith’s father’s, did he…?” Couldn’t help but be blunt.
Matt didn’t look at me, “Probably. We didn’t check and it wouldn’t change anything.”
“Where is Ger?”
“He’s with Ruth now, in the old Tinker. God, he was so angry. It was hard on him – he cried for days—hard keeping him calm till we got things in order and flew here.”
“C’mon.” I stood and went in the house. Without revealing much about my past, I only said that an old college friend had passed and asked me to care for one of her sons, “Paul, can we make room for him here – with us?”
Paul poured coffee, and turned to the table where we sat, “Well, how big is he? What’s the child like? Is he rambunctious?” Paul was caught off guard, but didn’t go ballistic, he became intensely curious.
“He’s in fourth or fifth grade, and he’s got the whole beach to play on if he gets rambunctious.” I looked at him. “He’s been through some very hard times, so much… He may have some problems.”
“How serious are his problems?” Paul asked. “What kind?”
I looked at Matt. “The kind of problems when you lose your parents – he’s grieving in his way. Come into town for lunch at the café, you can meet him and see for yourself.” With that Matt got up and left.
Paul and I drank our coffee, I explained that Ger was once a very open, creative boy, athletic and loving, “I haven’t seen him in a couple of years, but he was always a good boy. If it’s too much, I’ll take the boy and we’ll find a place on the east side.”
Paul went and dug around on the porch in the recycling for a while, then went to the living room to read some old newspapers. At eleven, we went down to the café. Ger was waiting outside, watching for me. When I got out of the car, he had to stare, studying my new face. I smiled and opened my arms. “I love you. I missed you.” My tears streamed seeing him, holding him again.
“I know.” He said into my belly. “I missed you. Mom’s dead – she killed Granddad.”
“Yes, yes.” I pulled him hard against me, “Are you okay?”
“I have to take pills, but they won’t bring Mom back.” Ger looked up at Paul.
“This is my friend Paul. He’s teaching me to use the metal detector.”
“Did you find buried treasure?”
“He’ll explain about the coins over lunch.”
Ger seemed to glow as he sat on my lap and spoke with Paul – I think Ger had enough of talking about his mom and all his problems. I got more information from Matt and Ruth about the arrangements. Ger had inherited quite a bit of money, and that couldn’t bring Faith back either. He was a very wealthy young man without a home or parents. They explained that I may have to take Rex in a few years – Faith’s mother was an older woman and wasn’t sure if she could keep up with a young man and stated she wanted the brothers to be together eventually.
“Ger, do you want to live here with Paul and me? It’s not so exciting but we live near the beach. You’ll have to go to public school.”
He only nodded while he and Paul shared a small mountain of French fries with several kinds of sauces and cheese dip. Paul was telling him how we made ourselves into birds and marched in a parade – Ger was transfixed. “You made your own costumes and everything without me?”
“Well, we’ll have to go again next year!” Paul said and ate the fry from Ger’s finger! I’d never seen anything near a playful side to this old “paternal” geezer.
Matt and Ruth stood, and I followed them out to put Ger’s bag in Paul’s car. “Give Faith’s mother my number and tell her to bring Rex any time. We’ll make a place for the little guy.”
We had a great lunch – kind of a celebration. Two strange birds suddenly had a family, and my boy was where he always belonged – with me.
* * *
You know my boy slept with me that night after a lot of attention from Paul all afternoon on the beach. I put Ger in bed after our shower. Sure, I kissed him, stroked him and lapped every inch of him rubbing my face against his skin until I heard him snoring softly.
At midnight Paul was still up; the light was on in the living room. I went to ask him if everything was alright. “Are you okay? Why are you up so late?”
He had the scissors in one hand and a handful of newspaper scraps in the other. “I saw this ad several months ago–look.”
“Raise the Roof,” it read. A local construction company added a second floor on older homes. “Let’s do this. We could have double the space and you’d never be able to afford a place near the beach for the boy. Couldn’t have him grow up in an apartment building with rats and cock-uh-roaches all over the place.”
“Rats and cock-uh-roaches?’ Was that an attempt to discourage me from leaving? My strange bird still couldn’t just ask about my leaving – that might lead to a discussion on an emotion.
“Let’s think about it first, I’ve got funds for a cottage. Ger has a younger brother – about a year old now. He’s living with his grandmother; she may be bringing him. Don’t know when, but probably before he starts school.”
“A little brother?” Paul’s eyes glimmered, “Really – what’s his name?”
“Rex.”
“Rex. Fine name. Royal name.” I could hear some rusty gears spinning in his head. I didn’t need to tell him that both boys were named Edward, and all the issues around that yet. As we sat enjoying the end of a wonderful day, Paul asked me for some personal information, “Your boy – he said something about tickling his, uh – his rear end this afternoon in the car. Does he ask for a spanking? I won’t do spank or hit a child.”
I started laughing. Ger’s penchant for older men was still strong – he was going to be fine. “No, Paul. Let’s go to the bedroom, I’ll show you.”
Yep, I took the reins in the situation and followed Paul into his bedroom for the first time since I’d moved in. Laying down beside him, I took Paul in my arms, “Relax Paul. Act like you’re in a movie about a hospital. Consider this a libido check – I’ll be the doctor.”
Tenderly and very slowly, I kissed his neck and stroked along his chest and arms, kissing my way down his body. He resisted often, and I continued, holding him down by his arms and forcing, yes, forcing a little foreplay on the strange bird. Paul and I hadn’t been intimate unless a quick side-hug is sexual. That’s all he was able to offer me, and the time was right, his responses were undecided.
“This is wrong. You’re making me very uncomfortable.” Paul snorted.
“You want to know how to tickle a butt or not? Ger prefers affection from older men. When he feels like you love him, he asks for affection. It’s what he wants – it’s a bonding thing; very loving.”
“He prefers older men? Where’d he learn that?”
“Just like you, I guess, he was born a strange little bird. Just go with it and love him – he’s telling you what he wants and it won’t hurt you to learn a new trick, you old dog.”
“This may be a problem in the morning – sexual regret, remorse and all. I read about it in a pamphlet we got at the parade. It can have dire consequences – last a for years and ruin your life.”
“Did you get a brochure on sensual gratitude, erotic ecstasy? You’re not going to ruin anything, only learn how to love my boy.”
His head nodded and he sighed. I kissed his lips, “You are a strange bird, but a loving bird, Paul. We won’t be sorry – well, I won’t.” Digging through his nightstand drawer, I handed him the oldest jar of petroleum jelly in the world and told him to grease his pole.
“No need. I’m not hard.” He said and handed it back.
Handed it back, “You will be in a minute.” I licked along his shaft, and it began filling, then I moved to suck his balls, then behind them. Paul’s package was quite to my liking, nicely shaped full glans, cut and big, heavy balls. His scent alone made me hard as I kissed and licked. Took a few shaky moments before he lifted his hips for more. Finally a positive response, I teased and loved, flicked and hummed—in complete admiration for his courage to respond.
It took quite a bit of convincing for Paul to let me stick my greasy finger up his butt, but I asked him to relax or I’d have to find another older guy to love my Ger. That threat worked, and his erection was full and thick, leaking heavily. When I saw that, I felt that need to be filled, to be rubbed, to be held and kissed. Wait, I had to wait for mine.
“When it starts to feel good, start stroking.” I whispered.
“It feels good now.” His voice was shaky, and his hand was firmly stoking.
That was my cue to get to his glands before he shot off. The pad of my middle finger found the lumps under the wall of his rectum; he gasped. Pressing my face into his gray pubes, I breathed his musk and began rubbing with a light touch, then more firmly knowing how good it felt to me.
Paul’s body trembled and he shook making odd ‘ooh’ sounds. “I could love this.”
His hips tightened and his thigh muscles flinched. Pre-cum started pouring out his slit, making clicking sounds around his corona. I felt his hand on the back of my head and I rubbed inside him slightly harder.
For the first time since I’d known him, he said the word “love.”
“Oh! It’s so…” Shortly, “Now! I can’t stop it!” I didn’t move, just kept rubbing in his heat until his body jerked and shuddered underneath my face. Then, I felt a few droplets of his cum as it spurted out, his hips hunched again and again. When I smelled his semen, I smiled.
Carefully pulling my finger out of him, I rubbed his pucker gently and looked up at him. His eyes were closed, so I moved upward and licked some of his gift off his chest, “The most beautiful thing in the world – when a man cums.”
He opened his eyes just a bit, and watched me licking his cum. His finger came to a blob, and he took it to his mouth. “Ew!”
“It’s a gift – you’re the only one who makes this flavor – spermoni de Paul.”
“Spermoni? You mean like ice cream? Spumoni?”
“That’s what Ger calls it. Spermoni.”
He lay his head back on the pillow and chuckled. “I love that boy.”
“I know.” Not a shadow of remorse or regret colored Paul’s words. That night he pulled me against him and kissed me. Not a side hug or cheek kiss – a somewhat tentative but stronger expression of masculine love.
* * *
The next morning Paul wanted to take Ger to the doctor, “Get him off those meds, nothing wrong with our boy! Now where’s that bottle they gave you?”
Ger pointed to the tiny orange bottle on the table, grinned and popped more waffles in the toaster and scooped the knife into the peanut butter jar. He felt at home already; it warmed my heart.
“When was the last time you had a checkup, Ger?” I asked.
“When the nurse came before Rex was born. I think. After you left we didn’t go out anymore at all. No one came to visit.” He stood still, remembering.
Paul sat down with his coffee and patted his knee. “That’s gonna change this morning. We’ve got friends all over town.”
I went into Ger’s bag and found an envelope with his paperwork and didn’t find any medical information but remembered that Faith didn’t want her children to have any vaccinations. “Do you know the doctor?” I asked Paul who was combing Ger’s hair and pulling it into a ponytail, rubbing his lips on Ger’s neck, kissing.
“Old friend of mine.”
“Tell him that Ger needs the full round of vaccines, and a school checkup.” I pulled out my wallet and handed Paul two hundred dollars. “Then, we need to get him ready for school – he’ll need supplies and all.”
Paul refused the cash, “We’ll work it out later. Let’s go squirt.” Paul wrapped Ger’s waffle sandwich in a paper towel and grabbed his keys.
“Wait! Ger, let’s talk.” I explained that ‘tutti-fruity’ wasn’t the clinic’s business. “People here think children are not intuitive, so don’t say anything about it to the doctor.”
“I know.” He grinned.
“I don’t care what the doctor says or does – he doesn’t love you like we do. Don’t go climbing on his lap or kissing him.”
Ger grinned, “You’re not coming?”
“Studying for my certification test next week. I submitted the paperwork for teaching at your school. Go with Paul, he’ll take good care of you.”
“I know.” But I had to pull him back and hand him his shoes before they left the porch.
After they left I realized I now had a son, and what looked more like a real family by the moment. Then I remembered I had another one on the way.
* * *
That night we all slept on Paul’s bed with him, cuddling close with Paul in the middle. I brought my phone and showed Ger our ‘strange bird’ costumes and the parade.
“Can I go next year and dress like a bird?” Ger asked.
“Wait, I’ve been thinking…. Paul shot back, surprising Ger and me. “Someone’ll snatch you away!”
“Paul, he loves dressing up. We’ll keep him close.” Suddenly the image of Ger being pulled into a van came to my mind. “Let’s march with the parents and their kids – maybe Paul can get some kind of electric cart to ride in. Rex may be here.”
Ger grumbled, but I knew Paul was right. Ger had a sexual power that he wasn’t fully aware of, and I needed to guard that power until he could control it.
Paul turned to hold Ger, and I spooned behind my lover, my erection at his cleft. I heard him kiss Ger and tell him he loved him. As Ger drifted off, I became erect and rubbed myself against Paul, stroking him from his balls to his ass. Finally, I felt him pushing back, “Yes.”
Kissing his neck, I oiled his hole and gently began pressing against him. He didn’t pull away but made a soft humming sound. Reaching around him, I found him hard and dripping.
“You figure you might be gay yet?” I whispered.
“Looks like it, but I don’t know – I’ll have to get some more information…” He grunted and shoved his hips to my groin. “I like the feel of your body, I like the feeling of this. Never had much in my life. I don’t think I’m gay, though… I don’t want all the men, just you, so I’m Randified, okay?”
“Whatever. This is going to feel a little uncomfortable. I’ll go slow. Try to relax and a little later, you’re going to feel filled with love.” He nodded and held onto Ger’s sleeping body. “Push back against me – help me inside you.” I pushed. We kept pushing against each other until my glans became captured inside him.
“This is uncomfortable.” He said softly.
“Relax. In a few minutes you won’t be able to get enough.”
“Have you done this to Ger?” Why was Paul’s mind wandering?
“As far as I know, he’s a virgin.”
Paul pushed against me. “This is what gay men do?”
“Often… Focus Paul, this is the good part.” At a snail’s speed, I entered him completely and must have hit his sweet spot immediately.
A few moments later, he grunted and pushed back at me, “More.” Picking up speed, I saw that when I shoved into him, my motion pushed his erection between Ger’s legs. It had been a long time for me, and I couldn’t last more than twenty or so strokes, but Paul was anxious, with his butt asking for more. He kept tightening his anus around me causing me some frustration – I wanted this to last.
“This is for you.” I felt the heat rising up through my erection and out my glans, two, three, four, five… Wonderful release, and my body went into freefall through clouds of bliss. I smelled Paul’s semen and he grabbed the sheet and wiped his blessing off my boy. Both of us were panting hard for a few moments in the dark stillness of the room.
Early the next morning we went to the porch with our coffee, waiting for Ger to get up while we read the news. From behind the newspaper again, “I love you.”
“Think you might be gay now?” I whispered and thumped the newspaper.
“I’m the same as I was yesterday. By the way, am I supposed to feel kind of goosey and greasy this morning? Feels loose back there.”
I could only snicker, “Could be your sexual remorse.”
“Not remorse—none of that here.”
* * *
Faith’s mother brought Rex the next year and left the country immediately. She said Rex was looking more like his father every day – she couldn’t stand the boy’s face. Didn’t say anything about daddies or Edwards, they were smart, strong boys. That old wound needed to heal, though I doubted it ever would for her.
Rex’ arrival caused a white-hot streak of jealousy between Ger and his brother. I took Ger in my tiny bedroom and let Rex stay with Paul. That gave Paul and Rex more time together and they became a pair soon. Paul took on his tiny roommate without problem. Rex didn’t have a choice but began responding to Paul’s gentle attention and soft-spoken ways, the tiny boy needed stability, unconditional love and attention. More than needed it, he was desperate—moody and clingy. Unfortunately, at two and a half, poor Rex sucked his thumb and was still in diapers – he seemed to have a lot of accidents which upset his grandmother.
Lucky we lived on the beach, Paul and Rex pulled their peckers out and whizzed in the sand dunes or at the edge of the yard until the issue resolved itself by getting closer to the commode every day. They went to the bathroom together after breakfast, both reading while they waited, Paul on the john and Rex on his little potty chair. Funniest thing I’d ever seen. Then they started locking the door so I couldn’t enjoy that scene.
Paul had the thumb-sucking habit broken within ten days by giving Rex a dollar to carry in his right, (thumb of choice) hand and holding the Rex’ left hand as they walked up and down the beach, and through town. If Rex kept the dollar all day, they went for ice cream where Rex bought his own cone. In bed, Paul told Rex he couldn’t go to sleep – he had to suck Rex’ thumb and they assumed some odd positions with Rex on Paul’s chest, but they did. Well, the boy had to help out his friend.
* * *
Life got better for all of us. I passed my certifications, got a half-way decent job teaching and earned the respect of the community. Women fawned over me thinking I needed a step-mother for our boys. I had everything I wanted and needed at home – my own older man to love me, and my two boys who kept us busy enough to keep us from griping about meaningless things.
Turns out I was as tutti-fruity as Ger, and as for Paul, I was never sure. He’d grown up in a different time – different mores, different social values—different names for things. Seemed to me he was gay, but then he may have simply responded to me for affection or finally allowed himself to love someone – he became more ‘Randified’ by the day.
* * *
We added a second floor the next summer, one large room and a bath. Ger called dibs on it for his dance studio. I bought mirrors for him, and he kept his costumes orderly and but refused poor Rex’ entry, unless I enforced the rules about keeping an open house. My rules didn’t work until I removed all the bedroom doors.
Ger was still in my bed every night being possessive – took him another year to grow into his role of older brother. Paul bought them bunk beds and put them in upstairs – things calmed down when Ger’s costume phase passed as he became more interested in school activities and sports. Paul bought Rex a train with all the tracks and little buildings – everything. They enjoyed that for hours.
When Rex turned four, Paul took him to a pre-school program every day so he could learn his numbers and colors. They went out early every morning to do a little metal detecting on the beach and sang songs they learned in the pre-school classes. Who would have known the old man would be such a good parent? I would never have guessed but our little Rex was more outspoken, more assertive and, yes, mouthy.
Oh yeah, Paul was so proud of Rex. They went to the barber shop every month for a trim together. Though I thought their hair was way too short, it was a social affair for them – including ice cream and a walk on the boardwalk to visit friends in the different shops. Rex finally got the attention he needed to make the change from confused, frightened baby to full-fledged boy.
Paul and I earned a lot of respect for raising two boys; between his retirement and my salary, we had plenty of what we needed. I’ll admit I was in some ways afraid of the incredible amounts of money the boys had and kept it invested for them. But it was something about Faith’s father – all the money and thinking he could buy anything he wanted. A wealthy pervert is a dangerous thing, and I wanted my boys to take a different perspective on their money; we lived on my income and Paul’s pension. So, we saved for our trips to Seattle to march in the parade, but we preferred Portland. We even bought a mini-van for our trips.
The van came in handy when Paul and I became scout leaders and we gladly accepted boys and girls along with teens and parents – our community was so small we couldn’t be picky, and we became a mismatched, unorganized scout ‘troop.’ Paul added on another room downstairs big enough for a ping-pong table and we even had a fireplace. I had a big-screen television put in so we could watch the instructional videos and gave lectures on knot-tying. Campouts were easy – we walked to the beach and collected wood for our bonfires and dug for clams to cook.
* * *
As the boys grew, we started going into Portland once a month on Saturdays for Ger’s music lessons, the other Saturdays, he had a consult over the computer. Needless to say, he sang like his mother and was very good.
Rex and Paul were a lot alike – patient, methodical, slow to react and thoughtful. A very different boy – not as capricious as Ger, but a serious boy concerned about nature and the environment; we had to watch his ‘recycling’ stash, and he never objected when we took the it to the bins in town.
He and Paul loved each other dearly. Paul doted on the boy without mercy which taught Rex to go to Paul when he wanted something special. We had to cut that out. Paul was a pushover and I somehow assumed the role of decider and enforcer in the house. Eventually, our lives fell into very comfortable patterns; our temperaments adjusted to each other with plenty of love. We’d all made some big changes in our lives – more than most people ever have to make, but we’d done it and done it well.
* * *
One afternoon Paul and I were upstairs replacing the washer in the bathroom sink when he decided to exercise his “Randification.” He pulled out his penis and warmed some lotion in his hands to give me one of his slow, gentle fucks. Sure, I dropped trou, but told him to hurry – the boys would be back from the beach soon.
Leaning over the sink, I took him and warned, “Hard and fast old man! Don’t make me wait!”
“Don’t order me around – spontaneous sex can be very meaningful, I read it in the newsletter from the cent…”
“Shift gears. Haven’t you ever read about a quickie!”
He muttered a few strange sounds and finally picked up speed telling me he loved me, thanking me for everything – taking the trash out, keeping the scout dues in order, buying the new raspberry-smelling dish soap… “All the thoughtful little things you do for me—putting the new laces in the boys’ shoes.”
“I don’t need a greeting card – I need spermoni! Give it up!” My hand was stroking my rod as his balls slapped between my legs. “Deeper, hurry!” Precum running into the sink, this was getting good. Could have been the pressured time frame.
I heard a chuckle from the door – there stood Ger and Rex grinning. “Go, Paul!” Ger said. Balancing myself on one foot, I lifted the other and nudged the door shut, but it swung back open and the boys walked in. Paul didn’t stop, he was going full-bore into his orgasm. I had to wonder if he was getting off to being watched – my poor, limp penis was hit with parental-embarrassment; this was supposed to be our private business.
Rex stood beside Paul and touched his balls as they swung against my cleft giving our bodies a close visual examination. Ger stood watching, still grinning. What could I say? I couldn’t stop. Paul had taken so long to come to the point to initiate intimacy with me, I didn’t want to suppress that. As Rex’ small hand stroked Paul’s balls, he looked up at Paul’s face, “You’re so big.”
That was all it took. Paul began moaning and I felt his hot load filling me. Holding me by my hips, he was deep inside me and moved his rod with his hips as he spurted his hot load. I loved that and I clenched my ass around his shaft.
We stayed like that for a few moments, the smell of musky men and spunk filled the bathroom while I wondered how to explain this to the boys. Maybe I didn’t need to explain much, but I mulled it over – not so angry as half-satisfied sexually and half-challenged by the leadership situation.
Paul leaned over and kissed my back as his dick fell out of my butt. “Go downstairs and let us clean up, boys. We’ll start dinner in a few minutes.” He said calmly between heated breaths. They didn’t leave. Paul and I took them into the shower with us and gave them a good scrubbing.
Ger asked me if Paul hurt me.
“Uh, no. I like it. Usually men do that in private so they can focus on the feelings that hold their hearts together. It’s like recharging your love batteries. Forget about it, just a battery recharging.” That felt like a good enough explanation in the moment.
Rex enjoyed that shower and sat on the side of the tub on Paul’s lap getting dried off. Beautiful to see them together in a loving embrace. Ger, on the other hand, was twelve and had his own ideas, he winked at me. “Recharging your love batteries, huh? Looks like a great big butt-tickle to me.” I thought I heard him snickering as he went downstairs
* * *
We made sandwiches for dinner and I took everyone to the porch for ice cream and fruit as the sun set. Paul had Rex on his lap, Ger was sitting on the steps. Feeling the need to explain our sex in the bathroom further, I began, “Boys, you know when men make love, or recharge their batteries – well… It’s a private act… An intimate, close act that’s…”
Paul raised his hand, like one of my students. “Professor, can we please enjoy our sunset and ice cream?”
“They need to know about these things…” I continued, “Paul and I don’t want you to grow up not understanding your natural bodily functions. That’s how Faith raised Ger, and I think it’s a good idea. Boys need to know what’s happening in their briefs.”
“When men put their bodies together like Paul and I do sometimes…” My sermon began.
“Randy, you’re making things too complicated.” Paul told me. “Boys, people love each other in lots of ways. Did you know that?”
“I know you love me.” Rex told him.
“Well, the way we love each other in our home it’s just us being kind, gentle. Randy is saying everyone’s different kind of love, well, it’s not our business and our love isn’t anyone else’s business either. Our love is private, just for us. Understand?”
The boys nodded. He grabbed Rex’ hand and off they went to brush their teeth.
* * *
Ger’d been quiet all evening, and I figured he was about ready to ask for more than a butt tickling tonight; he was a sensual and highly curious boy. He was ready, probably, but was he big enough? At almost thirteen he was about average – his head came to my shoulder but he was a light-weight like his mom.
When we were finally in bed Ger asked why I didn’t sleep with Paul. “I was possessive about you when you first came. Maybe we need a great big bed now.”
Ger snuggled close and kissed my neck, “Are you going to love me the way you do to Paul? I have sperm now, so that makes me ready.”
“Oh, it does? You think you’re ready for my cock? Let’s see.” I pulled him on my chest and felt his stiff four inches pushing against my belly as I reached for the lotion. “We’re going to try four fingers, that should be about right. What do you think?”
“Hurry up!”
I didn’t hurry – I don’t know why he was always ordering me like that, but youth is impatient. I lubed and rubbed and slowly worked my fingers into his tight hole, gently and examining him as I went. He was so hot, I was erect. “Close your legs, cross them at your knees, I’m gonna cum.”
After a few quick humps, I was scooping my cum off his butt, rubbing it inside him while he moaned and humped.
Two fingers inside him had him stretched tight, and I simply kept them inside him, pulling and pushing very slowly. “Your first time needs to be special, we’ll work up to this. Can you wait for a while?”
“Not a year, but a little while. Maybe two days.” He moved aside, leaving a short streak of boy-cum across my belly.
Every night that week I stretched his anus gently and told him what to expect. “It’s going to feel uncomfortable until you’re filled, then you won’t want to stop. Probably get hard and cum before you’re ready.”
“I’m always ready.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen you in the hallways at school carrying your books in front of your jeans.”
* * *
Speaking with Paul, I let him know that I wanted him with Ger and me on Saturday night,
“Really? His first time – are you sure?” Paul asked.
“Probably.” I explained how I’d been helping Ger’s body become relaxed.
“Let me do it.” Paul whispered. “You’re too ‘teachy,’ always instructing and explaining too much – this needs to be more loving than a classroom lecture. It has to progress in its own time, in its own way.”
“Well, aren’t you the expert on technique now. I’m not ‘teachy.’ You’d put the kid to sleep before he gets any action.”
“I’ll do it and make it more like a loving rite of passage than you could.” His voice was so steady and his expression so self-assured I had to agree. “I’ve read about these things. You’re too teachy!”
“Since when did I get ‘teachy?’ You never complained about it before.”
“Selective hearing – like I have to use when you call me your favorite old fart! That really chaps me.”
“Are you picking an argument?” I’d never seen him so testy.
“What on earth would we argue about? Our lives are perfect and you know it.”
Complete shutdown of that conversation.
* * *
Saturday night came, I bathed Rex and took him to the den to watch movies until he fell asleep. Paul took Ger upstairs – I couldn’t hear much with Rex’ movie playing, but little brother fell asleep soon enough and I covered him and left his movie going.
In my bedroom, I powdered the sheets and lit several candles as I reviewed my intimate behaviors for ‘teachiness.’ Maybe he wanted more of my decision-making duties… Nah.
Waiting for them, I remembered the first time I’d touched Ger, I recalled my surprise and enjoyment. Seems the boy had helped my self-esteem, after all the surgery and pain someone wanted me. Ger wanted me to touch him when I hadn’t had a loving touch in years. When I became possessive about him, my need for him drove me to keep him safe – despite all the threats and craziness. Then all his family problems. Maybe I’d been more than a convenient butt-tickler for him.
They came into the bedroom, both naked and Paul carrying a small basket full of odd things. Sitting in the old wooden rocking chair, Paul patted his lap, “We have to celebrate – now find the little glasses and pour us a drink.” Ger reached into the basket and pulled out a bottle of peppermint schnapps, and found three small glasses, filling them. Ger was delighted with that, we didn’t keep alcohol in the house.
“Now, we toast Ger into his manhood.” Paul lifted his glass. I watched them sipping and slugged mine.
“There’s a present for you in the basket.” Paul whispered as he took several drops of the minty drink on his fingertip and nudged Ger’s knees apart, applying the liquid to the boy’s scrotum and behind his balls. Ger looked at Paul’s face as he rubbed gently and the peppermint warmed his skin, “Open your gift, my little sweetheart.”
Ger found a small gift box wrapped in gold paper and tied with a white ribbon. Inside the box were several condoms and a long, slender tube of lubricant. Paul explained about condoms and sizes and talked about HIV and diseases; picking the right partner, “Seems like you have excellent taste in men…” Then, he said the slender bottle of lube was special. He was going to put the nozzle end into Ger’s butt and squeeze, “I want you to feel comfortable while I love you.”
Ger whispered something to him, and Paul smiled, “That would be wonderful – I’d love that.” He rocked Ger like a child and they had a few more shots of schnapps whispering back and forth, chuckling and smiling. Paul’s fingers were playing on Ger’s nipples, giving him a few sparks of extra arousal. They had another glass of schnapps.
“It’s time. Now tell me if you want to be on your belly or on your back?” They were whispering, I couldn’t hear, but Paul nodded. “Okay. Now do you feel my erection under your sweet ass?”
Ger nodded.
“Do you know I won’t hurt you? Do you trust me?”
“Yeah.” Ger was smiling.
“Are you sure you’re ready?”
“I know it’s going to hurt a little first, but I want to.” Then he grabbed Paul around the neck and kissed him on the lips.
This wasn’t the first time I’d watched Ger working an older man, and he was seducing Paul to beat the band. But Paul was meeting him on every move. Paul never talked to me like that! I felt a flicker of jealousy, but Paul was a gentle, slow lover – something I probably couldn’t accomplish with Ger; I was dripping and salivating seeing their naked bodies touching and the tenderness of their kisses.
Paul sat Ger on the side of the bed and kneeled between the boy’s legs, putting Ger’s slender feet on his shoulders and began licking the minty flavor from the tender skin under his balls, then he shoved Ger’s knees back and began kissing and licking along Ger’s cleft. Ger was cooing and lifting his butt for more.
When Ger’s hand went to his rod, Paul stopped and squeezed Ger’s balls. “Wait for me!”
“I can cum again.” Ger whispered.
“No. Hold yourself back, I’m going to lick every little drop you give me. You’re a young man now, not a loose cannon.” Paul’s hand went for the lube, and he slowly inserted the blunt, pointed tip into Ger and squeezed. Then he applied plenty to Ger’s anus and began probing him with two fingers. “So warm, my love. I’m going to give you what you want.”
I’ll have to admit that Paul was a smooth talker when he was in the mood and I suspected romance novels somewhere on his past reading lists. Then, he stood readying to penetrate my boy for the first time.
“Oh, we have to wait a minute.” Paul’s penis drooped – he looked at his groin with disgust.
I grabbed the lube and greased Paul’s rod with one hand and found the ribbon from Ger’s gift with the other. Sucking his glans, I stroked and felt his erection growing, then quickly tied the ribbon around his scrotum and rod with a quick double-overhand and kissed his full, shiny glans.
Leaning over the boy, Paul kissed his neck, then his nipples and positioned himself for entry. “I love you, Ger.”
They were off to a slow start, with Ger grabbing his knees and pulling himself as open as wide he could. “Hurry up.”
Paul only smiled, shoved his thumbs in the boy’s ass and pulled his anus open, slipping his dark wine-colored head in, and shoved once. That was so incredibly arousing. I could almost feel the heat of the tiny rectum around my glans. They both made strange noises as they accepted each other’s new sensations.
Ger was breathing fast, and a tear glimmered from the corner of his eye. Standing beside and behind Paul, I took a palmful of lube and rubbed it in my lover’s cleft and roughly stroked his pucker. Kissing his neck as I inserted my finger, he gasped. Now, we both looked down at Ger’s open body, his tender package and his proud penis fully erect.
Ger gave us a half-smile, “Nnng.”
Pulling my finger out of Paul, I pushed my erection inside him and he moaned as I entered. I stood still while Paul slowly pumped into Ger and stroked himself along my rod at the same time. Wasn’t long before he couldn’t wait any longer. I reached around him and tugged the knot free and he only pumped deeper into Ger. Ger’s eyes blinked as his slit shot out two drops of young cum onto his face.
No way I could hold back with two men I loved ejaculating so close – too beautiful. Grabbing Paul’s hips, I humped until my cum was squishing out around my erection dripping down my thighs and I felt as though someone pulled the plug on my balls; completely emptied.
Hearing footsteps in the hallway, I pulled back and slipped my briefs on and took Rex to the bathroom, then to Paul’s bed where we cuddled. Not long afterward, I heard the bed in my room hitting the wall and knew Ger was doing more than tickling Paul’s butt. They spent a long time in the bathroom, and I smelled peppermint schnapps again before I fell asleep with Rex next to me.
The next morning, Ger didn’t wake till late, but came to the kitchen with a grin. He and Paul made their breakfast while I took Rex out to look for coins on the beach. The two bluebirds were back at it in my bedroom when we returned, so Rex and I gathered driftwood in his little red wagon then went to the playground.
* * *
Through the years I knew the odds of my boys being gay were slim. To my amazement, they were comfortable in their bodies and happy with their lives despite or because of the bluebirds flutterings through their lives. They both dated and married, finished college and found their happiness with wives and families.
Even after our beloved Paul passed, the boys came every summer with their children. Never a word about Paul and I and the love we made together in our old home on the beach. They came back for the parades with me driving the electric cart hauling the youngest children – that was something Paul was extremely proud of doing through the years when Rex was young. Even after they were in junior and senior high school, they rode their bikes alongside Paul’s rainbow decorated cart in the gay parents’ contingent.
My Ger lived in Hollywood working as a sound technician for the most popular vocalists and Rex, well – he worked for the government and kept most of the details of his professional life to himself. He’d become a mathematician and worked abroad often. I suspected he was into computer security at the embassies.
Though the thought of contacting Wayl came up through the years – I didn’t chance it. After all I’d been through I didn’t want to disturb the incredible way my life had unfolded. Wayl would be a reminder of the brutal interruption in my life – but he’d given me the gift of hope – a moment of hope that against all odds, I might find love.
Life had given me more than I could ever had imagined and more love than most humans could ever know if they’d lived several lifetimes. This old, balding math teacher looked back over his life and realized that people come forward offering gifts in their own ways – in the ways they were able. Offering the gifts of themselves can be daunting and many never find the courage, much less accept the treasures from another.
Call it tutti-fruity, Randified or gay; paternal – call it friendship, or appreciation, or like Faith did – make up your own label, but it’s about bearing a gift. If you’re lucky, someone may bring the gift of love behind their label.
Wrapped in gold paper and tied in a white ribbon or from behind a newspaper, a gift is nothing until its opened, accepted and cherished between the giver and receiver. Unspoken and unseen bonds of belonging form in those precious moments. Sweet moments of offering and accepting love happened to me in my darkest and loneliest moments – and love was what this shattered soul needed until he could love himself again.
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