"Harvard Comes To Montana" - Chapter Twenty-Five
By Griz
umgriz@protonmail.com
Hi, JozeFriends;
Y'ever have those days when the morning is going well, and then someone says something that throws all the balance off? It's easier to react to someone who is intentionally being a dick than it is with someone who is just having a bad day, and said the wrong thing at the wrong time.
Happens in Montana all the time. There's a reason for it. Clear and transparent communication from the start. Stuff gets misunderstood. But sometimes, bigger, better things come out of those moments, and it turns out the first thing helped in getting the second thing resolved.
Well, anyway; tell me your thoughts, Boys;
Happy Last Day of the last February we will have the rest of this Winter.
Always Glad To Help;
Griz
*** The following story is a work of erotic fiction. If you are under the age of 18 or if this type of fiction is prohibited in the location where you are reading this, do not read any further.
All characters and names are creations of the author. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
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I had probably excommunicated exponential multiples of billions of sperm cells from my tender, quivering, mercy-begging balls since Monday night, but I was committed to giving them the attention they were lacking. Finally, they had to wait no longer to cough up more pecker phlegm. They were so done, and so was I. Done. For now.....
We were caught `in flagrante delicto' by the otherwise-perfunctory housekeeper who just wanted to do her job. She did not go to work that day with the hope of finding my boyfriend and me in a circumstance and position we could never begin to explain away. Or perhaps repeat, really. We found out how creative and flexible we could be.
Marc had marked me. Maybe now for the fifth time. You know, just to be sure. `Better safe than sorry' is quoted regularly, and in breeding my butt, the phrase is applied just as often and aptly as cum in my colon. And I was gonna make sure it would be often, damnit.
I would not be denied my own coagulated contribution to clogging up the wastewater treatment plant at the edge of town, so after quietly and politely (you know how I do)explaining that to Marc, he resumed un-tenderly tenderizing my rump roast until I could do just that. And yet again, I didn't need to touch my dick to achieve that goal. Marc managed that all on his handsome own. Just overnight, I was forgetting what Paco felt like in my hands (Polish).
All I had to do was look at him, both of us nodding our heads in unison like we were at a Lauryn Hill concert. His own factory-installed battering ram un-gently nudged my prostate into joining the party, and did it ever, for what felt like forever. God, that was beyond my wildest dreams, and mostly because Marc was enjoying this as much as I was.
"Jozef. You are so fuckin' tight, Babe. I didn't know this could feel so incredible."
"Me, too. Kiss me, Boyfriend. My mouth misses yours."
Marc actually growled and got a feral look in his eyes. OH, yeah. That'll work. He took me, he marked me, and now he looked like he was gonna drag me off to a cave. Fuck. Go all vampire' or werewolf', and mark me on the outside, too. Just do it. HARD. We can call downstairs and have Band-Aids sent up. I didn't care. Have Anna bring `em; we can at least introduce ourselves this time.
I wasn't being submissive; Marc knew what I wanted, how I wanted it and when. Others on the 20th Floor probably did, too. That's their problem. If they wanted peace and quiet, they should've just stayed home, or gone further East on I-90 to Dickinson, South Dakota.
Hotels there are the quietest on the planet. Nothing happens in those motel rooms, despite the hint in the name: Dick-In". Of course, thinking I'm so clever, if I owned a roadside motel, I'd call it the Dick Inn'. Enough of that: Marc was calling my name, and I'll be danged if I don't cum when I'm called.
"JOZEF! NOWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!"
I did the Sheraton's maintenance department a favor by re-sealing all that tile underneath the shower head. Afterward, and hoping we were securely alone, I returned the massaging shower head to its original position. The temperature and pressure were perfect.
Marc wrapped his arms around me, enfolding my chest into them. We stood up straight and I rested the back of my head on Marc's forehead. Is this how it was going to be for the rest of our lives? Each orgasm, whether pure, animal lust-induced or gentle love-making (like we just did.....heh.), would build upon the last?
Inconceivable!
How was I going to survive that? Would I manage to live longer than eighteen years? What would my headstone read?
`He Lost His Virginity And His Mind Soon Followed'?
`Always Welcome In The Earth's Embrace---But Not At The Sheraton'?
`The Air No Longer Smells Like Cum'?
Well, whatever happened to me would not be determined by abstinence, that's for sure. We had decent health insurance through the farm business. I might need serious surgical help. Considering how much action my alimentary canal got at both ends so far, I could probably get another scholarship or two. Jozef Wojtowicz, lab specimen for future physicians studying "The Potential Pathology Of Perpetual Parties in `Pound Town'", by Dr Gai-Ping Boip Hoosey.
Hell, I'd read that study about myself, myself.
We got finally cleaned up, all the time smiling like the silly, over-sexed lovebirds we obviously now were. It took two big bath towels to dry Marc, and really, he still wasn't dry. It's like when you shampoo wall-to-wall deep-pile carpet; no matter how many times you go back over it to suck the water out, you never really get it dry. You just have to say, `fuck it', aim every fan you have at it and go out and clean the barn for three hours.
I, on the other hand, and much to my chagrin and dismay, can get desert-dry with a washcloth. Polish folks spent centuries fighting Germans or Russians, and we just never had time---or we forgot---to expand the gene pool with men from, say, Scotland. Or women from Bulgaria. Even hairy people from North Dakota might've helped us after we emigrated. Fucking a watermelon could've resulted in us having even less hairy skin, so that was out. Meh. We'll think of something, someday.
As I walked out of the bathroom, I turned my head as much as I could to look at my retreating reflection in the mirror. Marc was finishing up his grooming, and just looked curiously at me.
"Babe, what are you doing?"
"Trying to see if Tom was right."
"Right about what?"
"If I walk funny now....."
Marc Snort
"Nah, too soon. I read it takes anywhere from forty-nine to fifty successful, multi-gasmic bottomings to have one's gait altered significantly. Has something to do with calcium redistribution and pelvic trauma, I guess. We'll keep going, but maybe in October, you might want to consider yoga or something.....or you could just stop walking. I know! I could look online for the Billings Hoveround store, if you'd like to go test-drive one while we're here. Or just get on Bolt and never get off again."
"Marc, you're so helpful. Now let me help you: Stop talking, or you're never going to get off again."
"Uh-oh.....did we just have our first fight, Babe?"
"I think so.....what's the protocol? How long are we supposed to wait? `Make-Up Sex' now, or after breakfast?"
"Let's discuss it AT breakfast, and give the housekeeper's replacement, if anyone new dares to come in here, an opportunity to finish the job."
"Boyfriend, that's a capital idea. I know a good breakfast place on 26th. It's like a high-class Empire Cafe. Real menus you can hold, big omelettes on the plates, but pleasant, little voices on the waitstaff. Can't guarantee they won't want to ravish you like Lu, or....."
".....'or'?"
"Well, Perry and The Boys at Jason's....."
"Okay, sit with me. Babe, you've hinted before about that. I told you I would make all the time in the world for you to discuss whatever you want. The corollary for that: I get to discuss stuff, too. I'm sensing some sensitivity to other people looking at me, whether in private or in public. Am I wrong about that?"
"No....."
"Am I doing something----anything----that you feel attracts attention to me?"
"Not on purpose. You're just.....what people want to see. But it's not like I want you to wear a burka AND stay inside to avoid natural attention. I'm sorry, Marc.....I know I'm ruining this day, and on two empty stomachs, too. I'll stop."
"Jozef, please believe me when I tell you this: I have eyes for only you, and I care only for what your eyes see in me. This isn't going to `stop' before or after breakfast. Babe, talk with me."
"You're a unicorn, Marc; wherever we are, wherever we go, everyone is drawn to you. You're so.....beautiful. I don't blame you for that; heck, 99% of the time, I just wear a smile and think, `Heh.....I caught you lookin' at him, but I caught him on the highway. He's mine."
The morning had taken a turn, and one I hadn't suspected was possible or necessary. Yeah, I had stuff to figure out, but I didn't mean to involve Marc. Ironically, he was the reason I had stuff to figure out. Not entirely on his own, though. Still, here we were, and there we went.
"Jozef, you're exactly right: I'm yours. Only. You are beautiful to me. I left a career and a home in Cambridge so I could have you in my life, and be in yours, because you have all the beauty my life was lacking. What you say is nice and generous to me, and it matters only to me that YOU say that, and YOU think that. I will not always look like this, but the man inside me isn't going to change, too."
"Fuck.....now I just feel so childish. What a childish moron."
"There's nothing childish or moronic about you, Babe. I would not be here if that were true. Do you know how fast I have to think when you and I are talking, even about little, mundane stuff, just to catch up with you? My mind reels. The biggest relief I had Tuesday of last week was you telling me you planned on farming your family's land for the rest of your life."
"Farmers turn you on?"
"One does."
"How many have you met.....you can't exactly grade on the bell curve after meeting only me."
"There are no other farmers, Babe. Just you. For me."
"Marc.....I'm sorry."
I was about to be as wet as I was when I was in the shower.
"Nope. No apologies. Not now. Sit down, Jozef."
We sat on the end of the bed, slightly facing each other. The window and the Sun were behind me. Marc's face was illuminated the way George Hurrell or Ansel Adams could only dream of capturing. Of course guys----everyone----looked at him. They'd never see him as I had at that moment, though. It'd even be lost to Eternity for me, the moment the Sun moved, or Marc did.
"Marc....."
"Can I get a `Boyfriend' once and again, please? I am your boyfriend. And I have every intention of being your boyfriend throughout this conversation and well beyond."
I laughed, though my eyes were red and swollen. I had a hard time looking at him, though. I felt.....dumb. Embarrassed. Small. This was the first talk' I'd ever had with anyone, and just my luck, it came along with my boyfriend. Because' of my boyfriend, really; and yet it was me so busy being the Effect to his Cause that I was struggling to make sense of this.
"`Boyfriend'.....there. Um, yeah. I'm not really used to thinking I'm unintelligent, but god, I feel so dumb right now. I don't know how to talk with you about this."
"Jozef, this is all I want to talk about until they kick us out of the room and out of Billings. There are other reasons you are feeling dumb, I suspect; we both know you should apply to both U of M and MENSA. Maybe not in that order, too.
Truly: if you told me you wanted to enroll at Harvard, I'd be scared to death of that intelligence you possess, and having to answer your questions in front of an entire class. Heck, I'D be the one with questions for you, because I'm kinda thinking you know history I don't, and yeah, that from the guy with his name on three books. Which by comparison with any you'd write would make mine seem like nursery rhymes, fairy tales and Aesop's Fables."
I giggled barely and smiled a little, too.
"You have jokes, Marc."
"On the rare occasion. Your beautiful, creative, lightning-fast intelligent mind, that sense of humor that comes from I don't know where, and not exactly finally, your stud farm boy handsome masculine Polish perfection? I would probably switch careers and go into the Harvard School of Medicine and try to clone you."
"Nah, the universe can't handle more than one of me."
"One's all I need, Babe. Just one I want. The original."
I sighed. He was saying some great stuff, but why was I sinking lower? This made no sense, and I am good for making sense out of anything.
"Jozef, Can we find what's up with why you're not entirely, absolutely convinced I'm yours 100%? Yeah, 99% is nice----but it's not 100%. The difference between those two numbers in this case is as vast as the difference between 1 and 100. We both have work to do, Babe; I need you at 100% certainty that nothing anyone can think in any capacity of me will be returned, or even acknowledged.
Because when you're with me, public or private, no other man exists. I really, really want you to see me looking at you, regardless who looks at me, because what you'll see? A man who loves you, is in love with you, and who stands on what he said to you in the Empire Cafe two Sundays ago. You remember?"
"Umm.....not exactly....."
"I said that if we walked in together, Lu Barney wouldn't even know I was there."
"Yeah.....you did say that, Boyfriend. But she did see you, and I knew before we walked in how she'd be."
"Well, yeah, but isn't she that way with everyone? Isn't that part of her charm? She couldn't have been charming enough from now until the end of Time to turn my head from you. Even after knowing you only half an hour and until I left town, you were the only man there I wanted to think about, Jozef. I'll admit, I MIGHT have been flirting with Lu, just a little....."
"WHAT??"
"I thought if she liked what she saw, I might get a free breakfast out of it."
"Are you serious?! You're NOT being serious right now! Are you?"
"Well, once you and I were in a place with enough lights, I saw that.....monster.....in your Levis. It only stood to reason that you didn't have room for your wallet, too. I didn't have mine; just my ID. Seemed neither of us was carrying any money, but I was hungry, so I had to have a contingency plan. I'd have got her to put your breakfast on my check, too. I'm generous that way. Now. Answer your question yourself, Babe."
Suddenly, my insecurity---or a lot of it---was gone. Tears formed in my eyes, and all I could think to do was launch all 6'1", 211# of at Marc and wrap my arms around his neck and cry on his shoulder. Tears of embarrassment and immaturity from my left eye, tears of gratitude and peace from my right.
Marc just held on to me, pulling me as close as he could. I knew the morning I met Marc that I was communicating with a truly unique man. I KNEW the way a seventeen-year-old knows everything, at some point we'd have `The Big Moment' that we did, and I would gladly and willingly share my entire self with him, time and time again. That's just what I---we---did, the night we got to town.
What I did not know, though.....was just how young and immature I still was, on at least an emotional basis, and that the following morning, I'd have a bit of a collapse of my Fergus County Teen Farmer Self-Esteem and Arrogant Conceit. A two-for-one sale on Significant First Experiences in a hotel room in Billings, Montana.
On reflection, both then and now, I think that was exactly the right place for it to happen, to lose a substantial part of that 1% insecurity, in the same place I gave my virginity to Marc at the height of making love. Both of those moments were---and remain---of monumental importance to me, every moment of my life that has followed the first Tuesday in August.
The night before, I trusted a man, specifically Marc, with something I'd kept safe from any other man. It was a trust that seemed to be different from the trust we were just dealing with. Same man as the night before, so why not the same trust the following morning?
Because Beautiful People want to be with Beautiful People, and everyone knows that, and they get what they want. I have Marc now, but will he want to stay with me if he sees Beautiful Options who'll make sure he knows they're looking at him?
What goes up, must come down. Spinnin' wheel goes round and `round (sing it with me!).'
The thought of Marc leaving, and for someone else who could satisfy him more than I could, was slicing me up inside, and it hadn't even happened. We were at nine days, not nine years. I was behaving like a perpetual letter to Dear Abby. Some chemical must've been firing off in my brain, either too much or not enough.
I was not Beautiful. That was arguable, of course. I attracted attention, but I wasn't looking for it. Some people wanted more than just the smile from me, but they were mutual, throw-away fun and orgasms. None of `em were more than exercise. And then, I got Marc, and he got me. No other man existed for me, and I was, at that moment, 99.3% sure no other man, some Beautiful Option somewhere, could turn Marc's eyes away from mine. Making a little progress with that number, but.....
Those other seven-tenths of that one percent.....well, that was me not being Beautiful on the inside. And that was not Marc's fault. That was me being seventeen years old, stupid as fuck and still soooo wet behind the ears in understanding the confounding complexities of Love and Trust.
The insecurity of losing a father a week ago, an oldest brother dying nine years ago and then soon after him, my middle brother left the farm, all of that, individually and combined, translated perfectly-exactly to the insecurity of gaining a man I was committed to, and who said he was committed to me----but still, a man who might also leave my life. The threat of future loss was not any easier to live with than the loss recently realized.
Marc said we both had work to do to get me to 100%. He was willing to help me shoulder this burden. Okay, so maybe then we climbed to 99.4%, because in all the time I'd known Marc Taylor, if he said he was going to do something with me, he did. That tiny, infinitesimal track record moved me closer to a much-needed sigh of relief. Marc had already been doing work with me to get me to 100%. He didn't know it, and I'd just realized it.
Now it was my obligation to get to work. Not on farming, not on school, not on Aleksy's and Eva's relationship and future. Only on Marc's and mine. Okay, AND my big guy and my little guy, too.
I was young, and yes, for part of that morning I was stupid and feeling ridiculously lost, but in that hotel room in Billings, Marc and I experienced two Significant Firsts together. Maybe we could drive home to Fergus County with my insides just as, or almost as, neat and tidy for the future as that room would be.
Marc released his hold on me. What the....? He had tears in his eyes, too. Oh, no.....what did I just do??
"Marc.....oh, my gosh. You're crying. Why are you crying??"
"Because, Babe, I just learned something about my man that most couples have to wait and agonize about for a long time to get. Knowledge builds the strongest foundations. It's true of History---which is exactly why I pursued it---and it's true of everything else. We build foundations on solid ground, not sinking sand. And we build trust, understanding and love on the foundation of knowing the person we choose.
I know these were fifteen or so minutes were very uncomfortable for you. We talked and listened to each other. And in the past moment of us just holding onto each other, I was feeling so happy that I am with you, and happy that we had an opportunity to be transparent and vulnerable with each other. We are waaaay ahead of schedule, Babe.
No couple gets a standardized agenda, but you and I both know that communication makes or breaks everything else in a committed relationship. My tears are of joy. Little bit of relief, too. You, Jozef, and I are going to be just fine.
I can't imagine being with anyone else, and I can't now imagine the life I was going to lead back East. Neither of those prospects could fulfill me like you do, like this does. One last thing----I can't really imagine a great life for you without me in it, particularly since you've had the nine-days-long opportunity to sample the goods."
I couldn't either. It just seemed that I was trying to imagine it, and that insecurity was unfair to both of us.
"Marc, I have stuff to work on. There are some.....deeper issues I'm realizing, from stuff going on when I was a kid....."
"You're still....."
"Don't say it!"
"Well, then; you say something."
"I love you."
"I love you, Babe."
I think we both stopped crying, but we didn't stop our embrace. And we didn't move when we felt a serious rumble.
"Marc....."
"Yeah, I felt that."
"This is serious....."
"We'll be okay, Babe."
"But..... there's always another that follows right behind, and sometimes that's the one that's really big."
"Then we should get out of the building, now. Before that happens. Another one of those could shake all these bricks right to the ground."
"Damn, I....."
And then we felt it. And it was longer and stronger than the first one. Oh, fuck.
"Boyfriend, Marc....."
"No time to waste, Babe; everything else can wait."
"We need to get at least something on. Hurry!"
We pulled on underwear, socks, jeans and shirts.
I turned to Marc and pulled his face to mine, my hands not letting him go.
"Just in case, Boyfriend.
"Babe.....another....."
Well, despite all this action, I could not refuse him. Another kiss, and then I pulled back and looked him in the eyes.
"Marc, I need to know something before we try to avoid disaster. Was that your stomach that growled, or was it mine?"
"It was the hungrier stomach, but I think they're both only going to keep shaking this place. Think we should enact emergency rescue procedures and help them?"
"It's the right thing to do. `Help those who can't help themselves'."
"There could be thousands more just like them, suffering this very moment."
"Then we should get over to that luxe version of The Empire on 26th before there's a rush on the place."
Yeah, Marc was right. We had communication working with us, rather than the lack of communication working against us. And we knew, like I think we always knew, even from that Sunday in July, that we could get a laugh or two out of each other. We got a few more just now, when they were needed. I didn't see us ever being bored. We'd just have to keep Costco-sized lube and laughs with us at all times.
Marc and I checked ourselves and each other in the mirror and walked out to catch the elevator downstairs. As I pulled the door closed behind us, I frowned a little. Marc noticed.
"What's up?"
"I'm just thinking.....we should've hung the "Do Not Disturb" thing on the door last night, but really, it would've been nice for that screaming housekeeper to do it, too, when she ran out of the room."
Marc just smiled at me and shook his head. We got downstairs to the lobby. Another couple were there, talking with an employee. The front desk was not busy, and there was a man looking like he shopped at Jason's, too. His name tag indicated he was the general manager. I motioned at Marc with my head to stop at the counter with me.
"Yes, may I help you?"
"Hi. I actually want to do the helping. Or the amending. But certainly the apologizing. I'm Jozef Wojtowicz and this is Marc Taylor. We're in....."
"Suite 2020."
"Mr Abrams, I'm sorry."
"Thank you. Please know that wasn't the first time that has happened, or something very similar to it."
"I honestly thought I had locked the door."
"I have no doubt you did, Mr Wojtowicz. Neither Anna heard the shower on your side of the door, nor did you hear the knock for Housekeeping on her side. It was just unfortunate miscommunication, and I'm sure Joni Mitchell could write another verse to `Both Sides Now', all about it. Well, perhaps not ALL about it....."
Marc laughed and said he'd explain the reference later.
"Will.....Anna.....be all right?"
"She will be."
"Are we.....and the hotel all right?"
"Most assuredly. For as long as you're a guest here, though, the knocks on your door will be louder. Anna might use an air horn."
"So she's not quitting?"
"No, Mr Wojtowicz. She's bragging. Now. Is there anything else I can help you with to make your stay with us more pleasant?"
Marc and I just looked at each other, and then at the general manager, Mr Abrams. We all smiled broadly, but said nothing. We walked out the lobby to the sidewalk, found our bearings and headed in the direction of breakfast. It was only 9:00AM, and we were not expected at Jason's until 10. An hour for a non-rushed breakfast was just right.
I asked Marc if he would wait outside the cafe with me for a moment. I wanted to call the farm and check in. He was all for that, and I saw in his eyes and smile two messages right at me. One, of course, and I hope everything is going well'; and Two, I'm surprised you haven't called hourly since we left to make sure Harvest is being finished to your exact expectations'.
"Well, if it isn't my youngest! Hello, Honey. Everything all right?"
"It is, Mom. Everything is most definitely on the track to 100% all right. How's life on Farm W?"
"Barely managing in your absence, of course. I think the entire county is going to collapse, actually. The bank failed. Vehicles won't start. No one wants anything from Eva but instant coffee, and not even some room for cream. Don't be away too much longer, Jozef. Hysteria and catastrophe will consume everyone and everything."
"HAHAHA!!! I know it has only been one day, but damn!"
"There'll be a 50¢ coin on top of the fridge, just waiting for you. Four days. Miguel says he's sorry they missed you, but they hoped you'd keep them in mind for next year."
"`Us' in mind."
"`Us' IS you, Jozef. No one thinks about this place like you do, for now or one hundred years in the future. You're gonna take over eventually; get used to it now. Figure out how you're gonna manage this place and get your education so you can think about this place for two hundred years in the future. I know you won't sleep completely until you have all the kids in the 10th Generation named, and probably their marriages arranged, too. Don't tell me I'm wrong! I know you!"
Marc had been listening to the conversation with me. We both laughed.
"Hey, Marie; you're not wrong! I don't think Jozef has thought of anything but the farm since we left!"
"Oh, I hope THAT'S not true! If it is, you need to up your game, Marc....."
"MOM!"
"MARIE!"
"HAHAHA! You boys are the best. Aleksy is with Eva, so I'd better get back to the Boy Chores That Boys Seem To Want To Avoid. I'll send you the Costco list."
"Thanks, Mom. Oh.....what's this about Marc's interview being in an open school board meeting? Public and everything."
"What?!"
"Yeah, WHAT?!"
I told them both what Tom told me. Mom was reacting considerably more than Marc. I don't think he knew what some of the folks in town were now wanting Lewistown to join what was going on in other parts of the country. I saw some of it my Senior year. Concerned Citizens' were frothing at the mouth about the Spring Musical, a silly, musical version of The Princess And The Pea', entitled----most scandously and controversially----`Once Upon A Mattress'.
Letters to the editor were filled with vitriol and unintended hilarity. Some of the arguments about the production were ludicrous: Sure, we let them put on this play NOW, but what'll be next? A musical version of Caligula'?' What I loved about that one: just how did the writer of that letter know anything about the movie (or the historic emperor)? And when did she like it before she didn't like it anymore?
I also thought the `Mattress' scandal was a narrow-minded assumption of teenagers and where they like to fuck. Heck, I just learned today that it can be done vertically in a shower, too. That was so creative..... What's THAT play going to be called? "Sodomizin' In The Rain"? Really, folks. Breathe.
Mom knew nothing about the interview being held during an open meeting. Seemed to her and me that it was something determined while Marc and I had been away. Mom was suspangry. Suspicious and angry. Deadly combination in the mind of a mom of a teenager.
"Gonna make some calls. I smell rats, and not the ones in the basement of Ware's. Marc, as of a few months ago, I do not have any voice in the Lewistown Public School District, officially----but if there's a meeting, I'll be there. This has got to be a first....."
"Mom, Tom's mom told him. Maybe check with her, too."
"Good idea. See you boys tomorrow."
Click.
When Mom's done talking, everyone's done talking. I looked at Marc. I expected him to be red-faced and feeling threatened. He was not. He actually had the very slightest, barely-there, hint-and-whisper smile on his face. Okay, I was with him in the hotel room when we figured stuff out about me; now we're together on a city street. Was this going to be a similar opportunity about him? Why was my boyfriend smiling, when any other candidate would be at least slightly freaked out about an unprecedented job interview in front of the citizens?
I pulled the door open and Marc walked through. A pleasant waitress saw us and smiled and said we could sit wherever we wanted. On Marc's dick! Oh, and can I have a 7-Up? With vanilla ice creams! We took a booth in a corner. The breakfast rush was mostly over. Big windows gave us a nice view of the big public park across the street. Quiet contemporary music was playing on speakers. The same waitress came with menus and two glasses of ice water. She was pleasant and friendly.
"Hi; welcome! I'm Phyllis. Nice to meet you boys! The special today is probably the most perfect mound of corned beef hash I've ever seen. We also have some nice waffles and pancakes, but my favorite here is the eggs benny. We make our own hollandaise."
I felt another aftershock.
"You got me at `hollandaise', Phyllis. May I get avocado and a tomato on mine?"
"Darlin', I can drag it through the garden for ya; whatever you want! How about you, Hon?"
Phyllis looked at Marc. I followed her eyes to his. Yeah, there's still that sixth-tenths thing to deal with, but not that moment; Phyllis just looked pleasant, but also like she was ready to get off of her feet. My man just smiled back.
"Corn Flakes, please. With lots of Hollandaise."
I just laughed, but Phyllis actually had begun to write it on her order book. All three of us laughed, more at her than at what Marc asked for.
"Um, OR.....if you liked that hash, then I'll try it. No fried eggs on it, though."
"Fresh fruit instead?"
"Thanks! Yeah! But not on the hash, like the eggs would be.....please....."
"Says the man who wanted Hollandaise on his Corn Flakes.....okay, fruit on the side. Now. What're you boys drinking?"
Cum! Marc's! By the gallon! And if I can't swallow anymore, just flip me on my head and fill me from that end! CumCumCum! Or.....
Phyllis smiled at me.
"You want milk, Darlin'? You look like you're a growing boy!"
"Heh.....he certainly can be....."
I could've kicked Marc. Or dragged him out of there and back to the hotel room. And of course, joking or not, Paco heard him and decided to yawn, stretch and take notice. Damnit.
"Um, actually, may I have iced tea, if it's real? Not the instant concentrate stuff?"
"Real, genuine brewed tea, made a day ahead so it's nice and cold. And how about you?"
"V-8, if you have it."
"My favorites, Boys. On their way. You want the newspaper while you wait?"
Who still offers a newspaper to customers in a diner? All the Phyllises in Montana. Well, not all. Over 50? Oh, yeah. We both shook our heads `no' politely, and she smiled and scooted off, Billings' own Mildred Pierce. Why do I say that? Because the back page of the menu had a photo of Phyllis, and a short biography.
According to this, she had her only job there, over fifty years, and had saved all her tips to buy it from the previous owner. Wellll.....it makes good copy, but tips in Montana are still pocket change. Time and Reality stand still in the Big Sky State, in a few regards. I knew Marc or I would leave something big enough to at least buy Phyllis cushiony inserts for her shoes.
"Marc....."
"Yeah, Babe?"
"What's going through your head, about the interview tomorrow?"
He smiled and reached his hands across the table, grasping mine. Ahhh.....a little Downtown Billings PDA. Heck, yeah.
"What's going through my head.....first, that I have the most amazing, beautiful boyfriend in the state. Second, that I love him for not only his intelligence, humor, kindness to people, ability to bend his big Polish dick like a pretzel to get it into his Levis, and also because I can tell he's concerned about me, because Third, I have an interview tomorrow; but regardless of which way it goes, I'm not leaving. I'm staying with my Stud Teen Farm Boy. And.....if I have my way at all......IN my Stud Teen Farm Boy, too. Often."
My vision was curiously distorted, and Marc's face was all wavy. Oh, yeah; that happens when you get tears in your eyes because six-tenths became three-tenths, all in the course of fifteens seconds and one answer. I had to reluctantly let go of his hands so I could get that paper napkin up to my face before Phyllis got back.
Well, THAT didn't work out as planned. Yeah, I managed the napkin, but not the timing. She was back with our drinks.
"Iced Tea, and V-8. Both in cute, old-fashioned glasses, for a cute couple who do old-fashioned sweet things in my diner. Oh, don't be too bothered; I keep my eyes and ears open in this place. Might get a good stock tip, or see a dress that I couldn't get into without thirty years tryin' and thirty pounds ago.
Look, Boys; I can tell you're gonna be together a lot longer than just to sit here and eat breakfast. Seen all kinds of love in here, over fifty years of it. I know I'll see you boys in here again, together. But YOU----if you're gonna make him cry like that, tell me so I can bring ya extra napkins with your drinks!"
Marc and I were too speechless to respond. We just stared at Phyllis.
"Oh, go on and laugh now. You know I'm right!"
With that, she smiled and took off for the counter to greet new people.
"Sit anywhere you like----oh, except that section over there. I'm workin' this after-rush alone, and it's still a lotta distance to cover!"
Phyllis just gave Marc and me privacy. This time it was my turn. I shot my hands out to hold Marc's. He smiled that huge, maybe-Greek, maybe-not, perfect smile of his at me. I thought perhaps Phyllis wasn't making an observation as much as she was commanding Marc and me to come back together, a cute couple to a cute diner.
Cute. Us. Heck, yeah.
"Marc, you're not stressing about the interview tomorrow?"
"Not at all. One of the areas I feel a school district can make improvements is in transparency. So, start with Lewistown's district. Let everyone know not only about the candidate, but about the school board members, themselves. This has been proven in history time and time again: People will tell a lot more about themselves by their questions than they'll ever learn from the answers they get."
"Hadn't thought about it that way....."
"That's because, my Stud Teen Babe, I know where your mind is. Already at 4:30PM Wednesday, which is about when the interview should end."
"Oh? Reading minds now?"
"Nope. Reading your face. You are concerned for me. You're not even cautiously optimistic about the interview. I think what you're thinking is that I need to think about a Plan B if I don't get hired to be the superintendent."
"Wow.....you said `transparency for the school district', and yet you just read me like the newspaper Phyllis offered. How am I gonna surprise you on anniversaries?"
"Well, I'd say with a puppy, but that'd be a little redundant. I'm sure you'll think of something. I like the way you think, though."
"So.....is it all right to ask if you have a `Plan B'?"
"It is all right to ask me anything you want to ask, Babe. Can I just say one thing first, though? It's a follow-up to what I said about learning about the person by the question they ask."
"Uh-oh....."
"Nope. Don't go there. Here's the thing, Jozef. I told you before we talked with Marie that I'm not going anywhere. I moved here, and I plan to stay here. Well, Fergus County, certainly not Billings, but you get it. You still have just an atom or two of doubt and distrust. I told you we'd work on that together. Cute couples do that, I've heard: They do `Sweet things for each other'. So: how about this? Before you ask your question, or rather than asking it now, wait until 4:30 tomorrow."
Damnit, yeah, he can read me. I'm never going to get away with anything with this guy. No romantic anniversary trips to exotic Miles City, I guess. Well, he said I'd think of something; might as well start now.
Breakfast came, and we came for it.
"I don't want to take back anything but empty plates to the dishwasher. Damned old thing is always in a grumpy mood if folks don't clean their plates. Okay, Boys; dig in, and holler if you need something. I'll be back with water and iced tea, though. Darlin', you want more V-8?"
"No, thank you, Phyllis. This all looks incredible."
"And I'm fine with this still-full glass of tea. But thank you."
"You boys enjoy, then. And by the way, Marc....."
WHAT?! HOW??!
".....what you did.....was brave. I'd like to think every man in Montana was as brave, but knowing you're here, well, that's still good. Thank you. And YOU, ya handsome blondie; what's your name?"
"Jozef, Ma'am."
"Looks like you can take might fine care of yourself, but I think you two can take care of each other. Make sure you do that. And clean your plates, dangit! I want that old witch off my back for the rest of the day!"
We laughed, and lo and behold, both Marc's and my vision got a little wavy again. And further `lo and behold', Phyllis had snuck us some extra napkins. She was right, though; we could take care of each other, and I'm sure we'd do that.
Marc and I bowed our heads for reflection and gratitude. Beneath the table, we wrapped our legs and feet around each other as much as we could. Breakfast was incredible, and we shared with each other. Yeah, the whole `airplanes coming in for a landing' thing. Because if you're gonna miss Harvest, give your cherry away for the first and last time you can and to only the man you love, have a little nervous breakdown, scare hotel staff, endure The Billings Inquisition in a furniture store and pure textile sculpture in a clothing store, do it as a cute couple.
Do it right. For as long as you can. Seventy years is a nice, round figure.
My favorite, though?
100%.