DYLAN'S JUNIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE
Chapter 31
by Donny Mumford
Frankie's text is succinct and straightforward. Even though Robby just read it, I read it out loud, "Yes and yes. Beth and I would like to talk with you today?" Rob raises his eyebrows and shrugs, muttering, "Yep, that's exactly what it said when I read it." Shaking my head, I mumble, "So it means: yes, she's pregnant and yes, it's you. I guess that Lee-person used a good condom." Rob mutters, "That was always a long-shot." Well, whatever... I was actually hoping for Lee to come through for us. I wanted the long-shot to come in so we'd be outta this soap opera completely. Rob mutters, "Fuck me!" and he sits at the kitchen bar. Looking at the text on Rob's cellphone again, I say, "Well, obviously Frankie's told Beth, like we suggested.
Huh, now I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not."
As I'm handing Rob his cellphone, he asks, "Should we have the talk with them now, do you think?" I go, "Yeah, let's get it over with." With his elbows on the bar and his cellphone held up between his hands, Rob uses his rapidly moving thumbs to send Frankie a text. As he types each word, he says it out loud, 'Come- on- over- and- we'll- talk.' Then he says to me, "We can talk until we're blue in the face, but what is there to talk about that we haven't already discussed?" I mumble, "We won't know until we hear what's on Frankie's mind." Rob mumbles, "With Beth chirping in her ear who knows what she'll come up with." Standing next to him at the bar, I squeeze his shoulder, quietly saying, "Whatever she has on her mind, you need to know what it is. After our talk with the girls, let's you and me go out and get drunk." He shakes his head, "Nah, I don't want to deal with a hangover tomorrow. Not with this shit hanging over my head." Oh great, let's sit around pouting and moping all day. I don't say that, but Rob's week-long gloominess is getting old.
The girls buzz at the back door and Rob pushes the button allowing them entrance. Thirty seconds later there's a quiet, "Tap, tap," on the door and he opens it, mumbling, "C'mon in," then, "How you feeling, Frankie?" She says, "Okay so far, and thank you for asking." Beth says, "Hello to you two.
Let's get this out of the way right from the start: I'm here so you boys don't gang-up on Frankie again like you did last Monday." I mutter, "That's bullshit. We didn't gang up on anybody." Frankie says, "Beth, please! I never said they ganged-up on me. Can we talk civilly?" Beth points her thumb at me, saying, "I'll see to it that this one keeps his two-cents to himself."
I say, "Who the hell are you to tell me..." and Frankie's like, "Beth! You and Dylan can go down the hall and yell at each other if that's what you want to do. Rob and I are going to exchange a couple of ideas in a civil manner. Right, Rob?" He goes, "Sure," and Beth glares at me. Apparently Beth's determined that I'm the bad guy. I mutter, "Why all the anger, Beth? Your time of the month?" and she shakes her head at me, dismissively, saying, "Do you even realize how crude that is considering what we need to talk about today? You're such a shit." Beth goes, "Please!" so I don't get to respond to that cunt, Beth. Probably a good thing too because she's kinda right about my unfortunate reference to her period considering Frankie missed her's weeks ago. I wasn't thinking when I blurted that out.
Rob asks, "Can I get you girls something to drink? A soda, coffee, or..."
They shake their heads and we all, one by one, sit around the kitchen table. Frankie says, "Okay, I'm really sorry, Rob, but you are the one," and she hands him a computer printout. He glances at it as she adds, "Since we now know definitively that you are the, um, one, do you have any new ideas or opinions since we last talked?" He goes, "I guess not." She looks at Beth, "We didn't think you would. Okay, here's the deal: Beth is strongly of the opinion I should abort the pregnancy and never let my folks or anyone else know about it. I hate the idea with every fiber of my being, but there simply aren't many options. What do you think about that, Rob?" He mumbles, "I'm against abortion on general principles, not necessarily religious ones, but it's your body, Frankie. Your decision carries much more weight than mine." I mutter, "Or Beth's, for that matter." Beth glares at me. Frankie sighs, then says, "If you and I were lovers, Rob, I wouldn't even consider doing it, but we're not. You and the pretty boy over there," nodding at me as I sit opposite Robby, "are the only lovers in the room, so Beth's right.
Unless you can give me a compelling reason not to... you know, I'm going to do it." Beth says, "And you'll pay half, Rob." He doesn't even look at her, so she adds, "And if you ask me," I mumble, "Which no one has." She glares at me again, finishing her thought, "I feel, since Frankie needs to suffer through the procedure, Rob should pay for all of it." Rob's hanging his head, mumbling, "Not that it's any of your fucking business, Beth, but I'll pay for it, that is... if it has to be done." Frankie's incredulous, shouting, "What do you mean, IF it has to be done. What choice do I have?" He shrugs, mumbling, "There's two choices."
Nobody says anything to that obvious remark and within seconds the silence begins roaring in my ears, so I finally say, "This is very brave of you, Frankie. And, for what it's worth, it's the only way you two will be able to get back to leading normal lives." All three of them frown at me, so I go, "Yeah, um, time will heal the wounds associated with this unpleasant choice. Plus, dealing with this on your own is sparing your parents a lot of anguish, when you think about it. Sparing yourself a lot of anguish too, for that matter." Frankie nods her head, "Dylan's right. I considered what it'd be like telling my parents, and the thought of letting them down this way would break my heart." Beth says, "There's also the fact that you and Rob are adults and shouldn't need to go running to mommy and daddy when something unpleasant needs to be dealt with." Frankie goes, "No shit, Beth! Do you need to put it in such a crude way though?" Beth goes, "Well, I'm upset too, Frankie. It doesn't just effect you and Rob, ya know." I go, "For once in her life Beth is right. More importantly though, no one else ever needs to know. And I'm not inferring you've committed something unheard of, because you haven't. This situation happens all too often. But still, this has nothing to do with anyone else, so it's none of anyone else's business." Beth goes, "Is it okay with you, Dylan, if Frankie tells her doctor about it, Mister Obvious?" I go, 'Fuck you, Beth!" And Rob says, "Beth, if you dump on Dylan one more fucking time, you'll need to leave. You don't know what you're talking about anyway." Frankie goes, "You're all giving me a headache.
We'll make a pact to take this incident to the grave with us. Okay, Rob?" Rob murmurs, "Of course."
That was a bit overly dramatic considering over a million abortions are performed each year in the United States alone, but to Rob and, especially Frankie, their's is the only one they're thinking about. I get that. Rob asks, "So that's it then? It's decided?" Frankie says, "Unless you have a better idea, yes it's decided. Before I did anything though I wanted to run it past you." Rob mumbles, "Thank you, I only wish to God I had something insightful to add, but I don't. I feel very bad for you, Frankie, and I will pay for the whole thing. Um, do you know how much it'll cost?" Frankie shrugs, "No, not really," and Beth say, "Anywhere up to $1500." Rob repeats, "Fifteen hundred dollars, huh?" I'm thinking, Jesus! We're in another no-talking, dead-end zone and again the silence is quickly mounting, so I go, "Well, um, this is all a damn shame, but I want to say I think you're being very brave, Frankie." Beth goes, "You already said that," and Rob snaps-out, "Do you need to be such a bitch, Beth?" Then, Frankie says, calmer, "Dylan's being very sweet." Beth mutters, "He's a sweetie alright." Rob goes, "Fuck you, Beth! You're not helping anything with your snarky comments. Why don't you get the hell outta here!" Frankie stands, saying, "The sooner I do this the better for... well, for all of us. I've been Googling about fetuses and apparently at six weeks the fetus inside me is about the size of a lentil bean; at the most it's a quarter inch in size.
If that's any comfort to you, Rob. I know you're against abortion, but..."
and she shrugs, then adds, "I'm getting the procedure done as early as possible next week." Rob reaches over and pats Frankie's arm, saying, "Thanks for telling me about the size. I picture in my head... well, never mind.
Um, can I come with you?" She goes, "It'd be better if you don't, but thanks for offering." Beth stands now too, saying, "Rob, you and I will handle the money. Can you get the cash by next week?" He mutters, "Yeah, of course, whatever. I'll withdrawal the money at the ATM in Stop & Shop." Frankie says, "That's generous of you, Rob. I'll put whatever it cost on my debit card and you can reimburse me, but it won't be nearly $1500.00." The girls never took their coats off, so when Rob and I stand, the girls drift with Rob toward the door.
The vibes coming off the four of us I'd imagine would be similar to ones after we'd just conspired to bring down the government, or something as nefarious as that. It's like we all feel guilty for being a part of the abortion decision. And, actually I do feel guilty, but I think it's the only sensible option when everything's considered. At the door Rob touches Frankie's arm, muttering, "I'm sorry about everything, Frankie. If there's anything I can do to help, like drive you, or do something afterward, or whatever just let me know." Frankie says, "Thank you, Rob, but I think the best thing for me, for both of us, would be if we don't see too much of each other for a while, and I mean no offense by that. It's just that seeing you will remind me of, you know... Anyway I'll eventually get over it, probably." He says again, "I'm sorry, Frankie," like he did something wrong. He didn't do a fucking thing wrong! And I'm not just taking his side; I'm being perfectly
objective.
The door closes and Rob looks at me shaking his head, murmuring, "It's sad. The whole fucking thing is sad and I feel awful about it." I nod, patting his shoulder. Then, for the next hour or so there's more moping around the apartment with almost nothing to say. After Rob's increased the gloom factor sufficiently, he sighs, then mumbles, "Guess I'll go over and make the first abortion withdrawal. Maximum withdrawal at Bank of America is five-hundred-dollars every twenty-four hours." I say, "I'll come with you, Rob. I need to shop for this weekend's groceries." He sighs, then shrugs, "Would you drive, babe? I just don't..." I go, "Sure, um," then trying to sound up-beat, I go, "Let's invite Golden for dinner tonight." He shakes his head, "Nah, I'm not up for company." Overreacting much, Rob? Not that I'd say that to him. I'll be supportive within reason, but if I do too much supporting there will come a point where I'm enabling him to wallow in self-pity or guilt, or whatever the fuck it is he wallowing in. I'm going to need to shake him out of it at some point.
In the pickup, as I'm waiting for the light at the exit from the apartment complex, I say, "It's a terribly unfortunate situation and a hard decision was made; the only sensibly one I might add, but continuing to dwell on it doesn't do anyone any good." The light changes and I drive onto route 114 as Rob mutters, "Yeah, I know what you're saying, Dylan, and you're right, but let me feel like shit about this for a few days at least, okay? I'll work through it and eventually accept the inevitable. I know that shit happens, and all that other psycho babble." I ask, "What exactly is it you're working through? It's pretty cut and dry." He says, "I've got conflicting and troubling concerns, Dylan. Isn't it obvious?" I say, "Humor me and explain it to me so that a six-year-old would understand it." He looks at me, "Well for one thing, I can't believe how stupid I've been with the whole Frankie connection, and I mean right from the start. I allowed myself to be flattered and led around too much by her. So I'm not feeling too good about myself in that regard, and I'm not feeling too good about her either. I don't want to blame it all on Frankie though, it isn't all her fault, but she kept encouraging me. It's like, between Frankie and me we created a conspiracy of dunces scenario; one that led us down this path. So I'm pissed at her, while at the same time I feel bad for her. I'm royally pissed-off at myself too, and I need time to somehow rationalize a lessening of the stupidity and guilt I'm feeling." I nod my head, murmuring, "Sure, Rob. Jeez, I didn't expect you'd be able to articulate it so clearly. Um, of course I'll give you your space for a while, then I'll help with the rationalizing because this is mostly not your fault. Not compared to the sneakiness of the girls and their giant egos making that bet." He goes, "Not now though. It's too soon to start rationalizing," and I say, "Right, later on we'll work on that."
Inside Stop & Shop Rob goes to the ATM and I get a shopping basket. After withdrawing five hundred dollars, he grumpily walks next me as I shop for provisions with almost no conversation between us. Back at the apartment I text everyone that there's no card game tonight. It looks like Rob and I are in for the rest of the day, as well as, tonight. There's almost no talking while I give him his space as I nearly go insane listening to him do deep sighs every two minutes. We watch TV and eat sandwiches for dinner.
Obviously he's not in the mood for sex Friday night or Saturday morning. Then, after coffee and a blueberry muffin for breakfast, we put on our winter jackets to have a smoke on the balcony. It's a bright blue day with temperature in the low forties. Nice morning for this late in November. The married neighbor who occasionally plays poker with us walks out the back door with his wife and, looking up at us, they both wave and smile as the man yells something. Whatever it was he yelled makes him and his wife grin. We can't make-out what he said but we both wave and sort of smile as if we heard him.
They get in a Volvo station wagon and drive off, as I ask, "Rob, are we getting haircuts today?" He sighs, and says, "Yeah, we should I guess. Would you text Golden?" I go, "Sure, but you've got to do something really important for me." Looking at me, he goes, "Of course, what is it, Dylan?" I go, "I'm going to stick something very sharp in my eardrum if you don't stop sighing." He chuckles and gives my shoulders a hug, mumbling, "You've had enough of my 'whoa-is-me' sighing routine, huh?" I nod, "Yes, it's causing my brain to seize-up and it feels like a needle is going in the back of my head where my spine connects with my brain stem, and that happens with every sigh you take; it's quite painful." He goes, "Noted... no more sighing." That sort of loosens him up a little.
We finish our smokes. Then, as soon as we get inside Rob's phone beeps. He talks for a few seconds, then says, "Dylan, would you mind If I head out to do some batting practice with Golden? The indoor batting cage is always available to the team and I'd like to work up a sweat hitting baseballs...
get my mind on something I love doing." I'm like, "Absolutely! What a great idea! Anyway Steve Church wants a haircut today so I'll do that while you're batting baseballs." He's already wearing his coat, so he heads for the door, saying, "Thanks, babe. Don't bother texting Golden, I'll check with him
about our haircuts while we're at the batting cage, then text you." Jeez, his mood really perks-up anticipating a baseball activity; great idea, Golden! Of course Golden has no idea about the pregnancy, but he's come up with a really good temporary solution for Rob's moodiness.
When Rob takes off I text Steve and he texts back saying he'll be right over. Then I get an idea and text him right back, "Ask your roommate if he'd like a haircut." I've tried reaching out to Ryan but, while he's cordial, he seems flat-lined socially. It's those meds he's taking. Ryan isn't motivated to do too much of anything except eat, do the college work, and hang out in his dorm playing XBOX games. Glad I never got hooked on the XBOX mania myself. Steve texts back, "Yeah, Ryan's coming too. See you in 10." Wow, that's unexpected! I thought Ryan would blow-off the offer. Damn, I feel a little excited. Funny, but just saying Ryan's name makes me feel funny. Our sexual history together was monumental of course, and I do miss our sub/dom sex more than I even admit to myself, but what can I do if he's not interested in doing it? Nothing, that's what. He won't be returning to Merrimack after finals week; well, after Christmas break actually, so this is the end of him and I can hardly believe it. This semester has flown by without me seeing much of Ryan except for the Friday morning class we have together.
He's usually friendly, but there's no hello kiss like he used to give me.
The time I tried giving him a kiss 'hello' he turned his cheek, mumbling, "No, don't, Dylan." Sitting next to him in class I often get aroused thinking of our many, many sexy exploits together, and then sneak some sideward glances at his sexy self.
A kid from Marietta, Jeff Bell, and I seem to be the only two guys on earth who recognize something special in Ryan. Jeff actually emailed me a few weeks ago asking if I've noticed a change in Ryan. I emailed him back being vague, saying Ryan's definitely more reserved than I can ever recall him being in the past. I wasn't sure whether to mention the meds or not, and then Jeff mentioned them in a text and we both agreed Ryan's better off without them. We were texting back and forth for a ten or twelve-day period, mostly about Ryan. I think we each were trying to impress the other with how much Ryan liked us... one more than the other. Sort of a competition I guess. It surprised me how close Jeff's and Ryan's relationship became after I left Georgia. From what I gleaned reading between the lines Jeff took my place, and Ryan was quite controlling of him; maybe even more so than with me.
For some weird reason I felt jealous about that and was pissed at Ryan for replacing me so easily. Jeff and I joked about Ryan's barbering and we both alluded to the sex that followed. Jeff actually bragged about how submissive Ryan could make him feel, but in a really good way. I guess we're kind of alike in that regard. I stopped texting, well I tampered off the texting, then finally stopped when it was obvious how important Jeff had become to Ryan. Or maybe Jeff was embellishing the hell out of his stories. Another reason I stopped texting was Jeff was getting into unnecessarily graphic details of his and Ryan's sex last summer.
Jeff's texts motivated me to suggest to Ryan, weeks ago, that we try some sub/dom sex again in his dorm after class. He was very nice about it saying he'd love to, and how much he missed it, but he simply didn't feel right while on his medication program. He'd be a lousy sex partner, in other words. Turned down once, I haven't suggested it since. He's determined to get his own apartment the first of the year and, according to his parents, the meds are required before that will happen. When he has the apartment he'll probably stick it to his parents and stop taking everything. Jeff texted one-time sort of bragging he'd be Ryan's roommate next semester. No shit, they're going to the same university. I could have been Ryan's roommate if I wanted to be. What Jeff doesn't seem to get is he's second choice. Still, heh heh, I kinda wish it was one of the other goofy-looking Marietta boys Ryan replaced me with. Jeff's actually quite desirable. Yeah, in hindsight, I made a mistake not getting it on with Jeff more than that one-time last summer.
Oh well, Steve and Ryan will be here for haircuts any minute now so I better stop this daydreaming and get things set-up. Wow though, it sure is a relief thinking about something other than the pregnancy. As I get the professional barber equipment out I'm surprised to find I'm feeling oddly nervous about being with Ryan. I mean, outside of a classroom. I'm glad Steve's going to be here too. As I'm having that thought the back door buzzer goes off and I buzz them in, then check myself out quickly in the mirror over the sofa. Oh forget about it! My hair is beginning to look like shit. That stupid SuperCut regular haircut grows out weirdly. A knock at the door and when I open it I see only Ryan. A tentative frown breaks out on my face as he goes, "Hey, Dylan. Um, Steve took the Mini to the book store for some things. Blue books or something. How ya doing?" I close the door and hug Ryan, saying, "I'm good. How 'bout you?" His body's stiff but he squeezes back slightly, not harder or softer than a greeting for anyone he knows.
He goes, "I'm just starting to get over a cold, which is why I missed yesterday's class. I don't think I'm contagious now though and, well, I really wanted to get out of the dorm, so thanks for thinking of me." I go, "I think of you a lot, Ryan. We're awesome friends." Actually, truth be known, I can go a week at a time without giving him a thought. Should I feel guilty about that? He says, "Yeah, ha, good friends, that's us, Dylan. Um, where are you doing the haircuts?" Everything he says is in a monotone. I say, "Help me push the kitchen table over." We do that and I pull a kitchen barstool away from the bar and pat the seat. Ryan takes off his shirt and sits on the stool as I plug in the clippers. Grinning, I give his shoulders a hug mumbling, "I've missed doing this for you, Ryan." He goes, "Aww, thanks. I guess you've been missing me the last couple of months like we've both been here, but not like we used to be, um, here," and he chuckles, adding, "We're here, but we're not." I murmur, "I'm not sure I get what you mean by that." He runs his fingers through his hair, ignoring that, saying instead, "Remember when I asked you what I could do with my hair after Felix and I got haircuts?" I do, and at the time I said something like, 'There's nothing you can do with it after that sucky SuperCuts haircut' Something like that.
Nodding my head, I go, "Yeah, I remember," and he says, "Well that was my last haircut. It's like two months so obviously my hair is much too long."
Actually my hair is unruly too and it's odd Ryan doesn't mention that or, God forbid, he starts nagging me to let him give me his specialty haircut.
Damn, I didn't even think of that possibility until this very second.
Since he's obviously not going to explain his 'We're here but not here' comment, I drop it too, asking, "What kind of haircut would you like?" He says, "Whichever haircut you think I look best with." I'm like, "Which one is that?" and he says, "You decide." It pisses me off that guys don't know what they want. How the fuck do I know what they'll like. I can do that with Chubby, but that's about it. I ask, "Do you want preppy maybe, or shorter than that, or longer?" He sort of flaps his palms up, muttering, "That's for you to decide." I fake a chuckle, "So you won't give me a hint, huh?" In his monotone voice, he says, "I don't really care, Dylan. These meds, ya know. I'm sorry for being such a bore, really." I go, "No, ha, you really shouldn't put yourself down like that." Then, being upbeat, I say, "It's nice seeing you," and I give his shoulders a hug. Huh, his scent is gone. Where are his pheromones? Ryan says, "You're nice to say that. Thank you," and he reaches a hand up... for me to squeeze, I guess. I hold his hand for two seconds and, believe it or not, my dick moves a little. Letting go of his hand, I take a comb and run it though his hair, saying, "Like I've always told you, Ryan, you have awesome hair. It's fun cutting hair like yours." He shrugs, and I say, "But first you need a scalp massage for old times sake."
Putting the comb down I begin rubbing my fingers through his clean hair, then massage his scalp as he lulls his head back, going, "Mmmm, that's nice.
Feels good being pampered by you again, Dylan. I miss the way you were always trying to please me back home. That was special." I don't remember 'always trying to please him'. And I'm mystified as to where his sexy scent got to. It's probably another horrible side-effect from the meds. My fingers work their way down the back of his head to his neck, then his shoulders with Ryan's body becoming very relaxed. Only now by comparison do I realize how tense he was when he first arrived.
After about two minutes he says, "Dylan, thank you for all your little attempts to be affectionate today. Heh heh, I almost got my first boner in a week." I hug around his neck and then squeeze the back of his neck. He shudders like he got chills, then says, "Emphasis on the almost aspect of getting a hard-on, ha ha. It's the meds preventing erections, babe, certainly not you. I must say though, it's very reassuring, and does my ego good, that you still obviously have a thing for me. I've missed you fawning all over me." I go, "Sure, Ryan, I've still got a thing for you and I'll probably always have it to some degree, but I've never fawned all over you." He snorts,
"I can't imagine what you'd call it then. Hey, I liked it, I wasn't criticizing." Could he be delirious? While I'm attaching a guide to the clippers, he says, "It's reassuring to me that you still can't seem to help openly showing how arouse you get around me, and your sexual desire, as always, shows-up in your eyes. And yeah, maybe it sounds like I'm bragging, but it's so obvious how you get aroused being around me and like touching me." I go, "Yeah, I'd say that qualifies as bragging alright, heh heh, but a lot of that stuff you're claiming is, um, from fantasy-land I'm afraid. It's probably the meds." He ignores everything I said, and goes, "You've been more than a little infatuated with me, baby, and yet you still defer to your first love. I'm left with memories and fantasies of what might have been. And not just for me either; you've lost out too whether you admit it to yourself or not." I go, "Ya know what? This is probably too deep a conversation for us to have now, don't you think, Ryan? I mean considering you're on all your various medications and all that." He shrugs, "You're right, but you're the one who's been teasing and flirting with me from the minute I got here. Anyway, um, are you planning on doing my haircut sometime today, or... just saying." I'm thinking, 'What a ginormice ego you have!' muttering, "Yes, boss. Do the haircut today. I got it." He actually chuckles a little, mumbling, "You loved me being your boss too." My-my, someone is thinking highly of themselves today.
Not wanted any part of furthering this egomaniac's conversation, I get to doing his haircut. I'll give him a very good preppy haircut. One that's the opposite of the last one he got at SuperCuts. "Ryan, I'm giving you a really preppy haircut that I think you'll look very handsomely cute with." He goes. "Well okay then. I like the sound of that, baby." That's the second time he's used the word 'baby' and both times it's sounded odd coming from him, although I did get used to hearing it from him in Georgia. Using the clippers with various attachments I taper his neck's hairline and around his ears on the sides, but most of the cutting is done with scissors over comb for this haircut. Then on top I comb up his longish hair, catch a batch between my forefinger and middle finger of my left hand and close the scissors with a subtle, 'Scrunch,' sound as the scissors cut through that batch of hair. This is repeated maybe twenty times before the top blends perfectly with the sides and back. After outlining around and behind his ears with the trimmer-clippers I wet a comb and comb his hair with a part and a small pompadour in front. Passing him the handheld mirror, I'm like, "I think it looks very good on you, Ryan." He goes, "Beautiful job, Dylan, thanks!" Well sure, I love to hear compliments, but then... who doesn't? I'm brushing hair clipping off his shoulders, noticing his taut skin against the palm of my hands, as I'm saying, "Ryan, I've always been the one who has needed to ask; so just for the record, so you can't say I never asked. I'm coming right out and asking you to do your fantastic sub/dom sex with me one last time before you leave. Not today, but a day of your choosing."
He turns to look me in the eyes, and tells me the same thing he told me a month ago, "Of course we'd both like doing that, Dylan, but I'm presently not capable of doing you justice. And anyway, you had your chance at me way back at the beginning of the semester. You weren't interested then, so...
you blew it. But listen! Believe it or not, I'll give you another chance.
Not here at Merrimack though. I checked on this and you have spring break the same time we have it, so visit me at my apartment over spring break and I'll make up for lost time between us. You, me, and Jeff will break sexual world-records. Okay?"
Quite a proposition, except for one word. Well, one name too many is what it actually was. Plus, I'll probably be working for Rob during spring break. I should come right out and say it's not possible, but under much different circumstances I'd actually like to do that... even with Jeff as an equal partner. Like I said, he's the cutest of all the Marietta boys and kind of sexy. We're not living under different circumstances however, so what I find myself saying is, "I'm not sure how I can make that happen, Ryan, but thank you for the invitation." He starts telling me, in a voice more animated than his usual monotone, about the apartment he's getting and how he'll recreate for me the relationship we had last summer. I roll my eyes at his pretentious claims of providing me what I need. That's his assumption: that I'm currently not getting what I need from him, meaning Rob. A knock at the door interrupts Ryan's pompous bull-shit. He flips his hand back towards me, saying, "I know you're trying to extend contact with me, but that's enough combing of my hair, Dylan." He stands and, putting his shirt on, says, "Spend spring break with me, Dylan, and we'll both be better for it."
Without commenting, I go over and open the door. Steve Church comes in, asking, "Whassup, guys." Then he goes, "Nice haircut, Rye! Oh, I got our blue books and the other shit I needed. All that stuff is in your Mini." Then he gives me the quick one-arm hug, briefly clasping my right hand instead of a handshake. That's Pony's greeting too.
Ryan goes, "Thanks, Stevie. Look guys, I'm gonna run over and get the Mini filled-up at the gas station. I'll be back in ten minutes or so. Can I get you anything while I'm out?" We shake our heads with Steve saying, "Nope, I'm good." As for me, I'm staring at Ryan... surprised at my earlier reaction to him. I mean when he first took his shirt off and while cutting his hair, that plus the combination of sexual memories of Ryan and me, with him right here, plus my haircut fetish, conspired to get my dick feel funny.
That is until he talked too much about how awesome he thinks he is, and how much he thinks I need him. I'm like, "Yeah, okay, Ryan, we'll be here." Ryan goes out the door as I take a deep breath wondering why I'm still attracted to him at all.
Steve's just standing here with a goofy grin. He finally says, "Did I miss something?" I shake my head, "Nah, it was nice seeing Ryan, that's all.
Here, take a seat." He goes, "Without my shirt, right?" I nod and he takes his shirt off. Then, holding his shirt, he goes, "It's none of my business, and I don't know what happened between you two, but the first couple of weeks of the semester I thought you two were really cool as an, um, couple I guess is the term. The way you looked up to my roomie, and the way he had this almost casual way of being the 'man' and you were his, um, I don't know, submissive something, um, submissive 'bottom', is that right? Bottom? You gay guys have your terminology that I'm unfamiliar with... heh heh." I'm staring at him like he's from Mars. I don't recall acting that way with Ryan, especially when Steve was around. He's grinning, saying, "I'll tell you something, Dylan; something I'll deny I ever said on a stack of Bibles if I must, but you two were so sexy together. Ya know, I almost asked Ryan to give it a go with me. I mean after you stopped coming around. You two were really, um, I want to say hot, but I thought it was cool too the way you acted towards him. I wanted to try being submissive like you were with him.
Just to try it. Something I've never experienced... like that, ya know?" I'm still staring dumbfounded at him. He sees my expression so he gets real serious now as he pats my shoulder, saying, "Oh! I'm sorry, Dylan, did I say the wrong thing? I know you guys broke-up or whatever you call it. I didn't mean to bring up..." and I finally find my tongue, "No, no, Steve, No problem. At least not like that. I just don't remember me acting remotely the way you described, but, ha ha, you were there, weren't you? It obviously looked that way to you, huh?" He says, "Sort of, but mostly it's things Ryan told me about the summer you spent with him." Oh... now I see. Ryan embellishing what a hot shit he was and how I was his submissive boy trying really hard to please him. Get real! What an ass Ryan is for telling tales about me.
Steve, probably confused, nods his head a couple of times then sits on the stool tossing his shirt on a kitchen chair, mumbling, "I probably misunderstood. I was just making conversation I thought you'd be interested in, but I really am sorry if I misspoke about, um, whatever." Wow, I don't know what to say to all that, so I try for conversation-light. "So, you considered trying the other side of the street by acting submissive while Ryan fucked you, huh? Are you gonna share that with your girlfriend?" He chuckles, "No, no, it never got nearly that far! I said, I almost asked him. And anyway, get this: my girlfriend calls me gay every other day, so she probably wouldn't be shocked if I did tell her, which I've no intention of doing," and he does a nervous fake laugh. I go, "You're kidding. She calls you gay?"
and he says, "No seriously, I'm not mister macho, but I ain't gay either..."
and we say together, "Not that there's anything wrong with that." A good couple of chuckles seems to get things back on track, so I ask, "What about your haircut?" He goes, "I liked that preppy number you did for Ryan, but can
you give me the same haircut I got from you last time. I'd be most appreciative, although please say 'no' if I lose my mind and offer you money." I snort out a laugh, muttering, "I'll try not taking your money, um, in the unlikely event you offer any." We both chuckle as I'm thinking back to his first haircut. Yeah, I copied the SuperCut regular haircut he had before.
Steve's another haircut-clueless, albeit happy in his ignorance, regular guy.
He's average looking about an inch or so taller than Ryan, and about two inches shorter than me. Steve's most noteworthy feature is his sexy mouth.
Nice lips and super white teeth. His mouth and tongue are pink and clean-looking. Regular brown hair and a fairly developed beard that he doesn't shave regularly. I don't think it's a style statement so much as he's lazy in that regard. Nice agreeable personality, but he tends to say things you're not expecting, like the time he told me he likes looking at guys' penises.
Yeah, he claims the variety and sizes are amazing, and he once saw a boy in high school with a two-inch dick. I surprised him by telling him about Tim, without mentioning his name because Ryan knows Timmy from Marietta better than I do. It's like this: Steve doesn't have a filter between what he thinks and what comes out of his mouth, as an example his bizarre ramblings about me and Ryan two minutes ago.
As I'm cutting the hair at the sides and back of his head to a uniform half-inch, I ask, "Have you seen any interesting penises lately." He goes, "Nah, there isn't much in the way of interesting dicks on our floor. I've made it a point to shower at different times on different days to share a shower with most of the guys on the floor. The most interesting penis I've seen so far is Ryan's. Wow, he's got a biggie." I go, "I know that for sure,"
and he asks, "Do you mind me asking if he gets all of it up your ass?" I shrug, "Yeah, I do mind. Um, I really don't like discussing personal matters like that. You understand, I'm sure." He hesitantly asks, "Um, generally speaking, could someone take all of Ryan's cock orally?" I chuckle, "Have you been looking at gay sex videos again, Steve?" He says, "NO! I just wondered is all." Done with the sides and back of his head, I ask, "Do you want some off the top?" He nods, "Yes, could you like make it half as long?" I go "Sure."
I'm using a comb, scissors, and my fingers to cut the hair on top of his head as he asks, "Um, would you ever suck my dick? Heh heh." I mumble, "Probably not, Steve," and he nods like he expected that answer, then goes, "I asked Ryan and he said, 'No' too, and he told me not to ask again... heh heh." Cutting off about an inch and a half of hair all over the top of his head, I ask, "Why do you want a guy to suck you off?" He says, "Because no guy ever has, and I'm wondering if a gay guy does it better than my girlfriend." I go, "Oh, I'm sure we gay guys do it better. Um, I wouldn't imagine you've ever sucked another guy's cock, so why didn't you ask me if you could suck mine?" He laughs, "Funny that I never thought of it that way. It's just seeing you and Ryan; two openly gay guys that got me trying to picture in my head the sucking and fucking you guys get to do." He asks again, just to make sure I guess, "So, you really wouldn't consider sucking my cock even if I let you?" I snort out a laugh, "No, sorry, Steve, but I'd let you suck mine." He goes, "No offense, but I'm mostly interested in the other way around." No shit! As I'm using the trimming clippers outlining around and behind his ears there's a buzz from the back door. I finish the last of the trimmer clippers by squaring off the hairline at the back of his neck, and then hit the buzzer button letting Ryan in the building. Brushing the hair off Steve's shoulders, he goes, "Seriously, Dylan, would you keep our cock sucking conversation between you and me?" I go, "Definitely, Steve," then I go, "Well, there's your haircut, same as last time." He gets up brushing his lap, saying, "Thanks, man, you're a really good barber." I go over to the door and have it opened as Ryan's walking towards me down the hall. His hair is exactly like I combed it before he left, so he must like the way it looks. We casually bump fists as he says, "Hey, Dylan," then, "All done Steve?" I answer for him, "Yep, he's done. Hey, would you guys like a beer or a soda?" Ryan says, "No thanks, I need to study my balls off for the finals coming up in a few weeks." Steve's got his shirt back on, saying, "Yeah, me too."
Steve puts his coat on and stands next to Ryan, and there you have it: the good haircut and the other one. Steve needs to use the bathroom so I tell him where it is, then fish for compliments, asking, "So, do you like the haircut okay, Ryan?" He nods, "Yes, you're a really talented barber." I say, "I can't do the fade haircut as well as you though." Then scream in my head, 'Are you fucking crazy?' Why would you bait Ryan into suggesting he give me his specialty haircut? I'm insane! But Ryan's shaking his head, mumbling, "Fuck, I don't even know how I do that to be honest about it. It just happened accidentally and I kept doing the same thing each time I gave you boys haircuts." I ask, "Did Tim keep coming for haircuts after I left?" He says, "Yeah, him and Jeff. Why wouldn't they?" I shrug, "No reason, I guess."
Ryan goes, "I'd like to think you're unaware you're doing this, Dylan, but you're flirting with me again; taunting me, some might say." I go, "I'm sorry! I didn't realize that, and I actually don't think I was. It was just a fishing expedition for compliments about the haircut I gave you. Plus, you know about my haircut fetish. There aren't many guys I can talk 'haircutting' with, ya know?" He pats my cheek, like I'm nine years old, saying, "I know you want it badly, and how much you miss it, baby. Come to Marietta during spring break, like I told you to, and I'll take care of all your desires for you, but for now," and he pinches my nose, "I'm still pissed-off at you. Yes, as cute as you are, I'm still pissed off." Oh man, he can still royally piss me off too, and what the fuck is he's pissed-off at me about? Take another pill, dude! Steve comes back, asking, "Ready to go, roomie?" I walk out with then quietly asking Ryan, "What in God's name do you have to be pissed-off at me about?" He says, "You know very well, Dylan because I told you months ago.
It's simple, I'm pissed at you because everything I taught you in Marietta you discarded as soon as you left." I'm like, "Oh yeah? Everything you taught me about what? What the fuck do you think you taught me?" We're going down the steps now as he says, "I taught you how to behave around me, for one thing. I mean, behave and know your place as my submissive, um, I would have said lover, but you reject that notion. More accurately I could have said my submissive 'boy', which you were, but that would hurt your fragile feelings. " I'm like, "What the fuck are you talking about?" Steve opens the door to the parking lot looking back at us still standing three steps from the bottom, "You coming, Ryan, or what?" Then he goes, "Thanks again for the haircut, Dylan!" Ryan walks down the last couple of steps, saying, "Yeah, thanks, Dylan," and he's out the door. Standing here, staring at the door, I say out loud, "What a dick!" Going back up the steps I'm trying to be fair looking at things through Ryan's eyes. Trying to understand his perspective: okay maybe I was too flattering to him at times. Or was I? Shit, I can't remember saying anything to make him think I was taunting him or flirting with him. So maybe it's not you, Dylan... maybe he's just plain nuts, to use a professional psychiatric term.
In the apartment I realize I didn't even ask them to help me clean up the hair on the floor. Well, no good turn goes unpunished. As I get the dustpan and brush out of the utility closet I'm still trying to remember what I said or did to give Ryan the right to accuse me of teasing, flirting, and taunting him. When did being nice to someone, someone who's going through a fucked-up period in their life, become teasing or flirting? I don't fucking think so! Asshole! I know one thing, and it's for sure, poor Ryan is delusional about his so-called training me how to behave around him. First of all, it's preposterous for him to think someone needs to behave a certain way around him. Okay, I did things his way in Georgia, but I was his houseguest and I worked for him during the day. I was at a disadvantage until I left Georgia, and that's the crux of the matter: I left Georgia and left behind Ryan's perceived authority over me. I wouldn't be submissive to him at college and he took to his meds because of it. Yeah, it's coming back to me now.
Feeling sorry for him, I tried being extra nice today and he pulls that bull-shit move of patting my cheek and saying he'll take care of all my desires during spring break. The balls! The ego he must have! Delusional doesn't
begin to cover it.
Dumping the hair in the trash, I've got admit at least I enjoyed doing the
haircuts. And Steve! Ha ha, he's mighty curious about gay sex for a straight guy who has had the same girlfriend for like four years now. Hey, maybe that's why he's curious; it's getting boring for him. Well, I'm not going to let Ryan put me in a bad mood. Sure, I could really go for a random hard-and-dominant fuck from an attractive guy who knows how to do it as well as Ryan. There's nothing new about that; nothing new since I've been interested in that the entirety of my sexual history. It's been a while since I've participated in a good sub/dom sexual experience, and I'd really like to get that itch scratched, so Ryan didn't need to be clairvoyant to see that.
His flaw though is misreading how desperate I am to do it with him. It's a good thing he didn't hold his breath waiting for me to come crawling to him for sub/dom sex these past weeks. The closest I came to that was simply asking if he wanted to do it. He said he couldn't and I dropped the subject.
He assumes after our time together in Marietta that I'd be nagging him for our form of sex constantly, and since that hasn't happened he's been in a deep funk. Hell, most days I never even think of him. It would shatter his ego for sure if he knew that. Yeah, but why am I spending so much time convincing myself of all this? I can't win with him. It's a lost cause and the chance of me spending spring break with him is so low as to be nonexistent.
Ryan's up and down roller coaster ride through life can't possibly be mentally healthy; more like a ticking time bomb that'll eventually explode.
Yeah, and it's not as if I haven't wondered about his inconsistencies over the
past two-plus years, but now the addition of his medications puts a new light on things. The entire basis of our relationship, from my point of view,
has been sex; sub/dom sex specifically. That's been to varying degrees very attractive to me. The pinnacle of that interest was during my freshman year. It was highest then, but now, compared to my attraction to it then, I fairly easily was able to reject the offer of it from Ryan. I'm referring to the beginning of the semester this year. It was my refusal to get his haircut that put an end to our sexual relationship. I refused to get the same haircut I'd had all during the last semester of sophomore year, and then through the first half of last summer. That's how diminished the attraction of his sub/dom sex had become. I rejected it over a haircut dispute. My attraction to sub/dom sex hasn't gone up in smoke, however; I've got the itch pretty bad right now, but not bad enough to give in to any demands of Ryan's. That Marietta haircut acted as a metaphor of him being dominant. Bottom line: trying to understand him will drive a person batty.
Well, at least these musings got my mind off the pregnancy subject. It's still hovering around though, and when my cellphone rings and I see Rob's caller ID it all comes rushing back to me. I say, "Hi, Rob, what's up?" He says, "I'm bringing a pizza home for our lunch and then we'll head over to Golden's dorm for haircuts." I nod, not that he can see me do it, and ask, "How'd the batting practice go?" He's excited now, "Awesome, babe. It was really great taking out some of my frustration in the batting cage. I got some sweet swings in today too, so I feel pretty good about that." We click off with me hoping his good spirits carry over to the rest of the day. Okay, haircuts at Golden's, where I'm not going to say one fucking word about his haircutting. Funny how insignificant a haircut seems when compared to Frankie and Rob's pregnancy problems, or Ryan's disturbing persona.
Rob comes into the apartment a half hour after later carrying a large pizza box that I take from him, saying, "I've preheated the over. I'll put four slices in to start us off." Rob takes off his backpack and coat, then comes over to me in the kitchen and hugs me from behind. "I'm sorry I've been such a sad-sack all week, Dylan. Thanks for putting up with me." I turn around in his arms and kiss him quickly on the lips, "No problem, Rob. We stick together and look out for each other." He smiles, letting go of me, asking, "Why not reheat the pizza in the microwave, babe? It'd be faster." As I'm putting pizza slices on the oven's rack, I go, "And soggier. I like crispy crust. When I pick up a slice of pizza I don't like it to droop over." He goes, "You always know what's best when it comes to food," then, "Um, any further word from the girls?" Shaking my head, "No, thank God. Frankie said she doesn't want to see you, for a while anyhow. I hope you meant a long while, Frankie." Rob goes, "Aw, she's okay."
As he's getting two Cokes from the refrigerator, he mumbles, "Except for, you know, the pregnancy, I liked her hanging around with us sometimes." I go, "That's like a reporter asking Mrs. Lincoln, 'Except for that, how'd you like the play?'" Robby chuckles, then drinks some soda, and says, "How about how bitchy Beth was?" I go, "Let's not rehash that meeting." He goes, "You're right. I didn't think of it once while Golden and I were taking turns in the batting cage." I say, "We need to get out. Go someplace tonight that gets your mind off Frankie's situation." He sighs and I give him a look.
Rob shrugs, "Sorry about sighing. Um, Golden says there's a beer party at one of those old houses along route 114. He said six freshman rented the house for both semesters instead of staying in a dorm." I ask, "You wanna go to the party?" He shakes his head, "No, I don't. You should go though. I'm staying in because it doesn't seem right to party while Frankie's got that procedure hanging over her head just a couple of days from now." Using a spatula, I'm carefully removing each slice of pizza from the oven, saying, "Nah, I'll stay in with you." Picking up a slice of pizza Rob bites off the point of the slice and yells, "Fuck! I burnt the roof of my mouth. Goddammit, that sucks!" Taking an exasperated deep breath, I'm putting four more slices in the oven, mumbling, "It just came out of the oven, Rob! Give it a minute to get below 400 degrees."
He drops the pizza slice on the kitchen bar and goes over to turn on the CD player. 'Walk the Moon's first CD blasts out of the player. Rob turns it down, asking, "Are you going to give Golden a hard time about your haircut?" I go, "No! You and I talked this out last time." He picks up the pizza, mumbling, "Good! And thank you." We finish the whole pizza drinking Cokes but not talking much, so thank God the CD player's on. Rob would probably appreciate some time alone so I am going to that party tonight. Putting the pizza crusts in the empty pizza box, I say, "Maybe I will get out tonight and give you some peace and quiet." He frowns, "I know I'm being a pain-in-the-ass, Dylan, and I'm sorry. I'll be better, I promise, but yes, get out and have some shots and beers for me. I'll feel better about things if I know I'm not dragging you down in the dumps with me. It's just that this is a pretty big deal. I, um, never expected to have a kid, um, the normal way, so...." I hug his shoulders, "I think I understand, Rob. I love you," and I kiss his cheek. We hug tightly for a couple of second, then he says, "Let's get our coats on and walk over to Golden's dorm."
I've been doing his haircuts for three years, until this year. I miss doing it too, but he feels this is supporting Golden, who he's mentoring, as Rob reminds me regularly. I like Golden and now that his short beard hides his ass-chin he's a pretty good looking kid too, but he's straight, and only nineteen to boot. Believe me I waste no time fantasizing about buddy-sex with him. When we get out of the pickup it's windy as we walk to Golden's dorm. I put up the hood of my sweatshirt that I usually wear under my coat.
I'm half wondering if Rob told Golden about Frankie, but I don't want to bring up the subject. I'm also not sure if Golden's still dating Beth, but don't want to ask about that for the same reason I'm not asking Rob if he told Golden about the, um, troubles. I glance at Rob and he grins back at me.
God, that makes me feel good! Just seeing his grin is encouraging so I bump against his side and Rob puts his arm across my shoulders for a squeeze, then we walk the rest of the way with his arm dropping to go around my waist.
Inside the dorm room we see they've pushed both the beds out of the way and there are guys sitting on them, some of those guys have already had their
haircut, but they hang around anyway. It's a baseball team bull-shit session basically. I'm the only one here who isn't on the team. Mostly freshman and sophomores, except for Rob and one guy I recognize from the team last year, Bill Spears, a relief pitcher. There's a lot of fist bumping between Rob and the guys, then he joins the conversation as I sit on the floor with my back against the wall like last time. I don't mind this now that I've resigned myself to joining the crowd, regular haircut-wise I mean. Frankly I'm glad not to join the baseball conversation because I like watching the haircutting. My haircut fetish enjoys the sound of the barber clippers buzzing and I like watching Golden cutting off lots of hair, seemingly without paying a lot of attention to what he's doing. It doesn't take much 'paying-attention' doing the cookie-cutter haircuts Golden does. No one seems to notice or mind these haircuts, so why should I? I do of course, but fuck it...
it's only a haircut.
A cute youngish looking guy I've never seen before is sitting in the barber's chair now. The barber's chair is Golden's desk chair and the cute kid is obviously a freshman. I hear Golden say, "So, Dickie, you're finally going to let me cut your hair, huh?" Dickie has longish brown hair in a nondescript style. He says, "My teammates told me that Golden Summers is the team barber and so, yep, here I am." Without asking how he wants his hair cut, Golden runs the clippers up the back of Dickie's head and lots of three-inch-long brown hair falls away from his head. It gives my dick a treat, but I'm just noticing something. That's not a half-inch guide on the clippers.
It's either a number 2 or 3 guide. Probably 3, which is three-eighth of an inch. Last time he used a number 4 guide, or a half-inch guide. Huh. By the time Golden's finished fucking up Dickie's hair I've got a nice boner in my pants. There's always a bright side to everything. Every cloud has a silver lining.
Next a tall string bean of a guy with a gown-out buzz cut sits in the barber chair. Golden's putting a cape around the guy, saying, "The half inch guide shit-the-bed on me an hour ago, Jones, so you're getting a three-eighth inch buzz this time." Jones says, "I don't give a shit, Summers, as long as it's free." Actually, with the three-eighth-inch guide, Golden's squaring off at the back doesn't look as blocky. What difference does an eight-inch
make, you may ask? All I can tell you is it's definitely noticeable to me,
but probably not to most. As he's doing the buzz cut on string bean I contemplate getting a buzz myself, but decide not to. I'm still enjoying having hair to comb and I like the waviness of my hair now that it's like four-inches-long.
Halfway through Jones's the clippers start stuttering. Golden's like, "What the fuck?" and he shakes the clippers, then tries again. The clipper works for a minute, then starts making a racket. Golden's like, "Dylan, do you know anything about clippers, like how they work? This thing might be on its last legs." I get up and go over to look at his clippers. "Um, see this screw? Try tightening it a little. I'm just guessing here because my clippers don't have this screw." He gets a dime and tightens it a little. The clippers work for another minute, almost until he finishes this kid's buzz cut, but not quite. We fiddle with the clippers some more and he finally gives up on it and does a decent job using the trimming clipper to finish the buzz cut. He goes, "That it for haircuts guys. My clipper is fucked!" You don't say! Ha ha! Patting me on the back, Golden goes, "Thanks for helping." Rob gets up, saying, "Dylan, lend Golden your clippers," and I'm about to say okay, but Golden says, "Nah, fuck it. I'm done today. You two look okay. I'll catch you in three or four weeks." Robby shrugs looking at me, like 'Is this okay with you?' I go, 'Yah, we can go a few weeks more, Rob." Golden pats Rob's back saying, "My mother will send another set of clipper. My good ones. No sweat." Rob nods, muttering, "Yeah, okay," then he's slapping hands with a couple of guys, saying to a stocky guy, "See you tomorrow afternoon. We'll look at film and you'll see what I mean." Golden asks, "Yo, Dylan, can you give me and a couple of my friends a ride to the party?" I'm like, "Dude, yeah. Text me when you're ready to go." He says, "We'll be doing some pre-training so a little on the late side, okay?" I go, "Of course. Text me."
There isn't a mirror anywhere in the room which is probably by design, but my head feels good with my hair still on it. I'm putting my hood, then zippering up my coat walking outside, with Robby saying, "I'm glad you're going out tonight, babe, and it's nice of you to give Golden and the boys a ride to the party." I'm like, "It's nice of you to let me use your pickup," and he goes, "What's mine is yours, you know that, Dylan."
Back in the apartment Rob and I spend a good two hours reviewing for the up-coming final exams. I knew everything we reviewed before we reviewed it, so I'm feeling pretty fuckin' cocky about the finals. After that we watch a college football game lying together on the couch and it's making me horny. After about an hour I give him the 'look' and he says, "I'm really sorry, baby, I love you so much but I'm just not feeling it now. Are you mad at me?" I go, "Noooo, I understand, Rob. Jeez, I can go a couple of days without having sex. I'm not a sex fiend ya know." He kisses the side of my neck saying, "We'll do awesome reunion sex all day Sunday." I nod, and lie my head back on his shoulder thinking, 'Maybe I'll jerk off'.
A little after five o'clock, I'm like, "Yo, Rob, how about my famous chili for tonight's dinner. How's that sound? We'll have it with a salad, and we have that crusty French bread in the freezer that I can defrost." He says, "You know what, I'm not hungry now, but your chili takes a couple of hours to simmer, so yeah, that sounds good, babe. Thanks." I like cooking and since we're not going to be screwing it'll give me something to do. Lots of ingredients in a good chili, so I get to it while Robby falls asleep on the sofa. As I'm dicing onion, green pepper, carrots, and celery I try putting myself in Robby's shoes. How would I feel about a girl having an abortion after I'd gotten her pregnant? It's very difficult to imagine because I can't visualize myself having sex with a girl. Not any more than a guy like Golden could visualize having sex with a guy. The brain is very complicated, which is like calling the Grand Canyon a large hole. Rob's and Frankie's potential baby is presently a quarter-inch in size and... No, for innumerable reasons it's too complex a circumstance and I can't put myself in Robby's shoes. Not in this situation. Instead of thinking about that, I think about some hot sub/dom sex with a mystery man about my age who's not about to take any shit from his submissive sex partner, who in my fantasy is moi.
After he's spanked my ass hard, he'll casually ask, 'What's your name again, pussy boy?' I'll say, 'It's Dylan Newman, sir'. Ha ha ha! Fat chance. Or, more likely my sub/dom sex days are behind me forever... sigh.
We eat around seven o'clock. The chili isn't too hot and spicy this time.
Rob says it's perfect, but then that's what he said about the overly-seasoned chili I made last time. As we're cleaning up the kitchen I ask if he's sure he won't come to the party with me, and he says, "I'm positive, Dylan, but I hope it's a good one for your sake. Have fun, get drunk enough for both of us, but don't crash the truck." Then he smiles and hugs me, murmuring, "If you do crash the truck, don't you get hurt doing it. Fuck the truck!" I go, "Okay, Rob, I'll even force some shots down thinking of you." He snorts a laugh, muttering, "Better you than me, babe. Hey, tomorrow I'll baby you through your hangover. I'll bring you cold drinks and give you a long bath, pampering you until you're feeling better." Now I snort out a laugh, saying, "Yes, daddy, take care of me." Actually that sounds nice.
Taking a shower and now I don't even feel like going out; not without Robby. Yeah, but I promised the guys a ride to the party so I guess I'll have to go. When I walk into the living room I see Robby's watching a movie on AMC, the cable channel that has, believe it not, more commercials than the commercial networks. I'm dressed for warmth instead of worrying about looking party-ready-cool. That's because my heart's not really in a party frame of mind. Rob says, "You look good, Dylan. What time are you leaving?" I go, "Golden is supposed to text me when he and his boys are ready to go." Robby says, "Is our running mate, Daryl, going too?" Hmmm, I didn't think of him. I say, "I don't know. I'll text him."
Texting Daryl about the party gets a text right back asking me to pick him up. Well, okay! We can crowd one more person in the pickup, and at least now I'll have my favorite sophomore buddy to hang out with at the party, and maybe we can even find some place to fuck... ha ha. Yeah, I'm horny, but with Daryl I'm the 'top'. What I really need is a tough dominant guy to take charge and spank, then fuck my ass hard. Damn I'm up for something like that! I know, it's certainly not for everyone, but a walk on the wild-side rocks my boat occasionally. Or something like that. Fat chance I'll run into anyone up to the task though. Or is tonight my lucky night....
After a while I get fidgety, checking my watch wondering what time Golden will call. At eight-thirty I tell Rob, "I'm going to pick-up Daryl and do some pre-party drinking at Tracy's. I'm tired of waiting for Golden's call."
Rob's like, "You're still giving him a ride though, right?" I nod, "Of course. He can text me while I'm at Tracy's and I'll pick him and his boys up and give 'em a ride to the party. They're on their own getting back though." Rob waves from his prone position on the sofa, "Have fun, babe." I go, "It won't be any fun without you. I wish I never told those guys I'd give them a ride." Robby holds his arms out, so I go over for a hug and a kiss. Rob says, "I love you. Be safe." Then I'm on my way to... whatever.
to be continued.... Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com donnymumford@outlook.com
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Hoping some readers may be interested, there are books of mine published and available on Amazon.com. Anyone who has Kindle can download them for next to nothing. The books are usually around ten dollars. They are about a 19 year old gay boy (Oliver) who has a far different life than Dylan's. And there is a new book, 'Mike, his Bike and Me'. Please at least check them out by typing my name on Amazon.com. Information about the story in the books can be found in some detail there. Thank you.
Donny Mumford
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