(Author note: Hope you enjoy this series. The content will escalate slowly. Lottery fantasy meets bully-revenge fantasy meets BDSM. Feel free to send comments/feedback. My gmail is above. Thanks!)
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33 Ways To Apologize
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And there he stood in the doorway. Eddie Buonaro. Eddie fucking Buonaro.
Big Mike was with me. Mike, and his friend Jeremy, who helped me out with role playing. Jeremy played the part of Eddie, and Mike guided me. They had all this instinctual sense about how to be dominant over somebody else. It was interesting how they had to keep pausing, explaining, correcting me. But we worked on it. I practiced. I got better. Maybe 20% better. Maybe enough for right now.
Eddie looked damn good as ever. That was the cause of the trouble, when the trouble started. Eastfield High School, Fall 2008, the start of our freshman year. I kept trying to hide and downplay my raging attraction toward other boys, but it was difficult. Some of the guys in my school were very good looking, and sometimes my eyes would just stare at them for a moment too long. Eddie was in my class and he was HOT. Eddie had, and still has, unusually deep dark eyes with long black eyelashes, thick wavy dark hair, sensual lips, perfect Mediterranean/Italian skin, and a solid muscular body. On top of all that he has a sort of composed panther-like energy about him. Like he is at ease, but he could turn dangerous at any instant. And it happened, he turned more and more dangerous. One day at school Eddie accused me of staring at him "like some kind of fuckin homo", and it was true, and in response to the accusation my face turned red as a beet, and in that moment I became his #1 target. And it got worse and worse over the next three years.
Eddie was here in my doorway -- well, not my doorway, the doorway of the house out in the wood, out in Millway. The place was a secluded country/woods type of house that I rented for the weekend. Renting: that was one of Michelle's main pieces of advice. "Don't buy what you can borrow, not until you know what you want. Just pay for the experience of stuff, instead of owning it." Michelle is age 50 and she's my main financial advisor. She's one of like a dozen people I pay now, to help me hold my shit together.
Me, I'm age 20 and you might have heard about me in the news last year. You definitely heard about me if you're from my hometown, Eastfield, MA. "JACKPOT SPLIT! LOCAL BOY TAKES HALF", the headlines screamed. The jackpot that rose and rose and rose with no winners until some 19-year-old high school dropout from Massachusetts and some 85-year-old great grandmother from Florida suddenly found ourselves the two winners of the 3rd largest lottery prize ever: $588 million. Thanks, PowerBall!
So Eddie was here to apologize. Because he wanted $1,000 cash. Because I offered him $1,000 cash if he'd do it. Because $1,000 cash is nothing to me, it would be like a nickel to you, because it's literally 00.0006% of $171 million. That's the lump sum payout I got. Which is why I had to hire Michelle to help me sort it out, make not-stupid decisions, and try to stay sane. You try being a confused, scared, gay high school dropout one day, and a mega-mega-millionaire the next. It does fuck with your head, I can attest to that.
Mike had coached me, he said that first moment is very important. You need to establish a pattern where you tell him what to do, and he does it. Mike said it won't always go according to plan, if the guy didn't sign up to be dominated, but you can do your best to set it up: set the pattern and take it where it can be taken.
So I did that. I stood and just looked into Eddie's eyes for two long seconds. Fuck, he was still so handsome, now right here in front of me in his black spring jacket and baggy jeans and Adidas high-tops. Funny, too, I was now an inch taller than Eddie. He grew tall and strong faster than most kids, but now we are 20 and I'm still growing taller. And growing stronger. And I stared into his eyes without any fear, and I stayed on point. It was amazing to me that I was able to stay "in character" as the one in charge, and not show any fear of Eddie. Because here are five things I could have thought about, but didn't:
(1) The time in gym class, dodgeball, when I got hit early and was out on the sidelines, not paying attention, and when the gym teacher wasn't looking, Eddie whipped the ball into my face as hard as possible, and my glasses went flying and blood spurted everywhere out of my nose.
(2) The time Eddie and his friends caught me in the stairwell and cornered me, and his friend Connor said they were going to shove a long knife up my ass and then slit my throat with it if they ever got hold of me alone outside of school. Connor had a track record of torturing and killing animals, including somebody?s cat.
(3) The time they did catch me alone outside of school, a place and time where it seemed like nobody else was around, but they didn't have a knife, so they just beat me up and kicked me and stomped on me for a few minutes until my screams were heard by someone who lived nearby. She stayed with me until the ambulance came. The blood looked bad but the real problems, hours later, turned out to be that I had a serious concussion and a badly damaged kidney. I had to have an operation on my skull that night. I still have to get regular checkups for my kidney function.
(4) The time another kid texted me and said "eddie asked hows your mom". That afternoon my mom opened the mail at home and got a note that read "Say goodbye to your faggot ass son, because he's dead meat."
(5) The time my mom and I met with the school administrators for the last time, and mom left in tears (again), and I decided to stop going to high school. I actually decided to stop living, but fortunately I told some friends about that and they got me to talk to a therapist, and I never actually attempted suicide. But that moment right after dropping out, anything could have happened. I thought my life was over.
I didn't think about any of that. I just stood tall, looked into Eddie's eyes, and remembered to keep my voice steady, simple. "Declarative: you SAY what's gonna happen next", Mike told me. Ok. Declarative.
"Come In", I said steadily, my eyes still locked onto Eddie's. God, he was good looking. And he and his friends almost destroyed me. I turned around and walked away slowly. To my surprise, he followed me. He stopped - "Who the fuck is this?"
Big Mike, 6'4" and 225 pounds of muscle, was leaning against the living room archway. I'll say more later about Mike and our relationship, but basically Mike was being paid $2K (double what Eddie would get) to just be there with me, stay overnight with me afterward - and to step in if Eddie tried to hurt me in any way.
And that's what I said, when I turned around to see a shocked Eddie staring menacingly at Mike and back at me. "This is Mike. He's here in case you try anything." I paused. "You're here to apologize and that's it."
Mike just stood there, chill and huge and calm. I love Mike so much. An hour earlier he was just holding me in bed, so big and warm, his massive shoulders and arms wrapped around me and his low deep voice saying "You can do this. You're ready."
Eddie said nothing. His big dark eyes registered major unease. Here to apologize. Ok, let's get to it.
I said, "here, have a seat." I motioned to a chair at right-angle to the large leather sofa. This was Mike and Jeremy's idea: "Put him somewhere that is less, or lower, than where you are." The chair slung low, but Eddie did what I said, he sat down in it. I stood before him for a long moment, looking down into his handsome face. He averted his eyes, looked downward, and I stared into the waves of his thick black-brown hair as I sat down onto the sofa.
It happened so fast. Eddie said slowly, "I'm sorry." He didn't even look directly into my eyes, but he did look at me, sort of, and he did say it. Plain and clear.
I said, "Thank you." I said, "Mike", and Mike reached into his pocket and handed me an white envelope thick with cash. I handed it to Eddie. Eddie reached out and took the envelope. I stood up. Eddie looked up at me, his lips parted softly, his big dark eyes unsure what to do next. I told him. "You can go now." I left the room. I went into the bedroom and closed the door.
Mike told me that Eddie just stood right up and walked out quick with the envelope in his hand. Didn't even close the door behind him. A moment later I heard his car starting, and pulling out, and that was that.
Except it wasn't.
It was only the first of what turned out to be 33 ways to apologize.