NOTE: Since the vignette below, entirely a work of fiction, includes discussion of sex between adult males, minors may not read it. So don?t. The story is copyrighted by the author, Park517@aol.com, who welcomes readers? comments.
ENTER LAUGHING
"God, what does he see in that ghoul? Walter's so elegant. I mean, he's so sort of Fred Astaire. But then, that Jake. No left ear, only two fingers fused together on his left hand, those burn scars and the wonky eye. And he acted like a boor. Gays don't belch. Well, maybe in Japan or China. Do they have gays in China? Of course, they do. M. Butterfly, right? But I bet they cover their mouths. Where do you suppose he was brought up? A trailer park. The kind that tornados aim at. Isn't it weird how those pitiful places get torn apart so often? God just doesn't like trailer trash. That's the message, isn't it?"
"I'm going to get your favorite ball gag, Dorothy, if you don't unbabble on your own. I knew I shouldn't have let you have that second snifter. You're free-associating, and that may be fine with your shrink. By the way how do you pay his bill? But your motor mouth doesn't get the dishes rinsed. And that's the last time I'm going to have a separate salad plate. Just because your grandmother did it that way in Mt. Kisco when the Rockefellers came over does not oblige us to put the big pot in the little pot when we have my dealer and his boyfriend for supper."
"Blow jobs. If you must know."
"Not now. Not until this kitchen is ship-shape."
"Blow jobs is how I pay Dr. Edelman. My therapy for his. It's all very clinical. Nothing for you to get jealous about."
"Oh, baby, come here. I'm not jealous. But you should have asked me."
"For a cock-sucking pass? Like recess? You can just be so controlling, Liam. I bet you'd like to put a ring in my nose to go with the one in the left nipple."
"It looks so good on you, Stu. You're a David, even in cargo pants and a sweat shirt, but when you're in me and that gold circle is bouncing up and down on your sweaty chest, you are beyond beautiful. You are mesmerizing. And I want to pay your doctor bills. It's what people do for people they love."
"You do love me? It isn't just that none of your friends have a boy like me to parade around at openings? Sometimes I see that superior glow of yours when guys see me and then see that I'm with you. It makes me feel like a collectible, not a lover."
"Is that what Dr. Edelman has got you thinking? The bastard! Let me come along to your next session. I'll update him on doctor-patient ethics. Stu, I love you. I loved you before I even met you. That night at the Carlyle when you spilled a drink on Kitty Hart and started crying and shouting that you weren't meant to be a waiter. You were so noble and yes, so incredibly handsome that I decided you were the man I'd always dreamed about. And I tracked you down and seduced you, and that was six years ago next month.
"Stu, every day I love you more. Yes, I love having a gorgeous man to show off. But even more, I love to wake up in the dark and hear you breathing next to me. I can't see you or your beautiful face and body then, but what I feel has nothing to do with your looks and everything to do with your soul, your warmth, your nobility.
"Something like that, I imagine, explains why Walter and Jake are together. They grew up in the same, small town somewhere, enlisted in the Marines right out of school together and were caught together in the same firefight in the Iraqi desert when we liberated Kuwait. Jake was wounded then. Badly. Walter saved him. Maybe they were in love before, but they've been in love ever since."
"Oh."
"Yeah, I agree. Oh. So you see, Stu, love doesn't make any sense, but it's still the strongest thing there is. Leave the dishes. We'll finish in the morning. Right now, I want to hear you breathing in our bed in the dark."
"Just breathing?"
"Maybe some panting and growling and moaning first, but the most important part is the breathing."
"Let's walk, babe. Okay? It's a nice night, and you need to cool down. I'm really sorry you didn't like them. Liam, at least. I agree that Stu is kind of hard to take - body by Michelangelo, brain by Wal-Mart - but Liam is a really serious talent, not to mention a fine cook. And you shut Stu up when he started raving about Hillary. That crack that she is just like John Kerry but less feminine. It broke me up. I don't know how you can be so smart and so funny at the same time, but it's one of the infinity of reasons for loving you."
"If you love me, why can't you tell people the truth about us? You fed Liam the Marine con, didn't you? I could tell by the way he looked at you as if you were Mother Teresa with a seven-inch cock. You know, Wally, someday that hokey story is going to bite you in the ass. What if some real Marine asks what our unit was? Or, God forbid, one of your Newport, prep-school conquests turns up and talks about your parents' stately home. I just don't get it. What's wrong with telling the truth?"
"You really want my clients asking why I was doing 90 days of community service as an orderly in that hospital? Or what if your agent finds out that you'd done the Richard Pryor, free-basing stunt, which, of course, was why, with the bandages covering all of you except your ass and dick, you were singing when I brought you the bedpan. And mine is nearly eight inches, as you damn well know."
"Maybe Liam doesn't. There must be at least one genius in your stable you haven't fucked while he was bent over your desk signing away 50 percent of himself. Shit, Wally, I didn't mean that. Forgive me? I should never drink and talk at the same time. The addictive personality strikes again. I really am sorry."
"It's okay, sweetheart. Lover, we do this ego wrestling all the time. And then we get in the shower together, and everything is all right. I think the pattern was set the first time I gave you a sponge bath and got all tangled up in your catheter tubing. You thought it was hilarious, and I thought I'd be sent back to court and from there straight to Rikers Island. And instead I fell in love with you."
"Yeah. When Nurse Ratched stood there and instructed you in the mysteries of inserting catheters into penises. Admit it, you fell in love with my small but perfectly formed urinary tract."
"That, too. Goes without saying. But it was your voice and the laughter in it that hooked me. Maybe just the fact that you could sing and laugh. I would have been suicidal. And you could make fun of me and of yourself. Jake, Jake, you're so strong, so tough, and so full of wisdom and humor. Let's take a cab the rest of the way. I need to get naked with you."
"What's the matter with Central Park? It's dark in there. I used to think it was the only place I'd ever have sex again. And Mother Teresa, you did save me. We both know it. You saw me through rehab. You found the blind singing coach. You got me the first voice-over gigs. You remade me, and I love you. Not just because you gave me a new life or because you're so incredible in bed. No, you really are proud of me and proud to be with me. You can't know what that means."
"Where's a taxi when you really need one? In the movies, they pull right up on cue."
"Not yet, Walter Breckinridge Foster. I haven't finished. I love you because from the very first night I spent in your bedroom, you've taken our clothes off and left the lights on. You're the strong one. You can look at me and not wince. I can't. When I shave, I see myself in the mirror and I still flinch. After all these years. You'd think I'd be used to it, wouldn't you?"
"Don't talk any more, Jake. Let's go back to laughing. At last, there's a cab."
"Okay, lover. Okay. But please, do one more thing for me. Let me grow a beard again. So I don't make people like Liam and Stu cringe. And so that I won't have to shave anymore. It's just getting so hard to go on laughing."