Joe the Welder

Joe the Welder 4

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• This is a work of fiction; people, places, and events are all made up by me.

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Now, on to the story.....(And feel free to read the previous chapters first to get the details on the characters!)

Joe The Welder

Chapter 4

It's now Wednesday—3 days since that great Sunday morn when Joe and I first had sexual contact and no word from him. I'd called him Sunday night to let him know I'd enjoyed it all, hoped he did too, and I'd heard nothing from him. I'm starting to worry if this is a bad sign.

He called just as I was leaving the office for the day a little after 6 pm. “Hey, buddy! Sorry I haven't gotten back with ya before now. They called me in Sunday afternoon to cover a shift for a sick coworker, and then changed my shift schedule on Monday. I worked Sunday night till 4 am Monday morn, then was back at the job Monday morn at 8. By the time I got home I was so tired, I just hit the sack. Pulled a double on Tuesday, and then regular shift today. I need a drink!”

“Come on, buy ya a beer at Main Street Bar.” Yup, that's the place we met, and I knew even if he was half brain dead, he'd find the place—after all he's still learning the town.

I got there first, and by the time I walked up to the bar, my scotch and soda was waiting for me. (I told ya Frank the bartender was good!). I threw my smokes, lighter, and phone on the bar, reached across, and shook his hand. “Thanks, man. You do a great job here!”

“Glad ya enjoy it, Rex. Where's Joe?”

Huh? He's asking about Joe and me?

“Uh.....he's on his way, just getting off work.”

“Good! I'm glad.” And he beamed.

“Yup, he's a good guy.”

Long pause, and Frank looked me squarely in the eye. “I'm glad ya'll hooked up, and hope you're making this your home bar.”

Wait.....what?

“Look,” he continued, “I saw how he looked at you when you first met. It's kinda like the way my kid looks at his 3rd grade teacher, the same kind of crush. He's got it bad for you. And don't know exactly where you stand on it, Rex, but he's a good man, and if ya'll can make it work, good on you. And,” he leaned in conspiratorially, “you're both always welcome here. Just don't have a make out session—not sure our other customers would handle it....they might be jealous!” And he laughed.

So, Frank recognizes something going on between us, and he's cool with it. Nice. Just hope Joe is as cool with being recognized.

“Speak of the devil...Joe, how ya doing, buddy?” Frank stuck out his hand and shook Joe's. “I'll have your beer in a sec.”

Joe sat next to me, looking tired.

“How's it going, Joe. I've been worried about ya.”

He beamed that smile at me, and chuckled. “Glad to know ya cared.”

“I do—and I wanna talk about it. Whenever you're ready. I gotta piss first....be right back.”

I left the bar. When I came back, Joe and Frank the bartender are chatting in hushed tones. As I got back up to my stool, Frank went to take care of another customer, and Joe flashed his trademarked million dollar smile at me, and suddenly seemed less tired.

“He knows.” Joe is still smiling.

“I know. He told me when I got here. What do YOU think about that?”

“I'm cool with it. Liking that I didn't hafta announce it. I'm thinking thru it all, but you and me, we got it good.”

He used that phrase again, and I had to agree—it was good. And it was all falling into place. Very comfortably so. So, I went with the next questions.

“So you're ok with everything from Sunday? No regrets or second thoughts?”

“Man, I'm ready to do all that again, and anything else you come up with! Fucking loved it all! I've never had any sex like that with any woman, and I was really, really glad you were the one you showed it all to me. I'm still thinking thru the other stuff.” And then he blushed. Merely adorable.

Other stuff? What's he thinking about?

“Well, there's lots more to show, Joe, and we can be as mild or wild as you can handle. Besides, you know I can be, uh.....energetic during sex. And I want to talk about the other stuff, as you call it, whenever you're ready.”

“Yeah, loved the way you worked on my nuts and tits, and eating my ass was incredible—never had ANYTHING like that before! I'm up for anything you can dish out. I trust you.”

So, options for sex play are open......this is getting better. And I'm sitting there, thinking of all the kinky things Joe and I could be doing, and wondering exactly what other stuff was in his head when my spidey sense starts dinging. And it's getting louder, even though I've said nothing that would have triggered it.

The back door of the bar slams open. Brandon, Joe's worthless nephew, red-faced, huffing, barely able to stand. He covers the 30 feet from the door to us in moments, unsteadily. He's obviously been drinking. “What are you doing in here......with HIM?” sneering at Joe as he points at me.

And then, it's like slow motion kicks in, and I watch his hand knot into a fist and he pulls his arm up and back, starting to throw a punch at me. Another arm appears between me and the oncoming fist. It's Joe.

“Brandon, what the fuck are you doing?!? Stop this shit NOW!” Joe is yelling, the bar is frozen, Brandon's forearm in Joe's rock solid grip. Magically, Frank appears on the other side, flames in his eyes, and shoves Brandon back. In a low growl, he mutters, “Get the fuck out of my bar—don't bother coming back.....EVER.”

Brandon looks like he's been bitch-slapped, shocked at the reaction of both Joe and the bartender. “I'm outta here.......but this isn't over with, Joe!” And with that he staggers to the door.

Frank goes back behind the bar, and Joe and I turn back to our drinks.

“What's up with that, Joe? How'd he know anything about you and me? And thanks for intercepting the punch; I don't think Frank would appreciate me doing a throwdown in his bar.”

He laughed.

“Brandon went to Norma Jean's Sunday night drinking and talked with that bitch that wanted to fuck me. She'd asked if I were still seeing that guy—you--and he's been calling me 3 times a day bitching and cussing about it all. I'm ok with him, though......he'll never change, and he stays too drunk to do too much.”

Ok. I don't know what to say to that, so I stay quiet for a moment.

“Joe, what other stuff you thinking? Can I help?”

He pulls out a little-boy-lost look, and looks at his drink.

In a whisper, “I love the sex. It's the other stuff, mostly the way you make me feel. Never felt like that over a guy, and it's different. Not bad, just....... different. And totally unexpected. Guess I'm wrestling over whether I'm gay or bi or.....” and his voice fades off.

“Look, Joe, you don't hafta put a label on it now or ever. As long as you're happy, I'm happy. And, if I can help ya think things through, I promise I'll try to be as honest and objective as I can.”

He looks and grins big. “I knew that, but it's great to hear ya say it. And I appreciate it. Part of what I'm wrestling with is how much I like it when you take charge. Loved it when you took over after I'd finished doing you, and I just had to take and enjoy what you were doing. I've always been the aggressor with women, so that's a BIG switch for me.”

Fuckin hot. I'd already pretty much figured that Joe was mostly bottom, and now to see a submissive side coming out—shit, it just keeps getting better and better! He's gonna discover how much of a dom top I really am.

“Want another beer? Or wanna go grab a burger across the street?”

“Aw, Rex. Why not both?” The big grin on Joe's face was back.

We ordered another round, talked about our jobs, and made general small talk. I learned more about Joe. His mom was a former elementary school teacher, retired. Now on a walker due to her crippling rhumatoid arthritis. She had help coming in daily to keep her house clean and cook some of the meals. Joe and his sister were both supposed to help pay for that, since her teacher's pension wasn't enough, but his sis—Brandon's mom—was as much of a flake as Brandon, so it pretty much fell on Joe to cover it all. He wasn't complaining, but it explained a lot about his desperate need for a job when he first moved here. I was impressed that he was able to cover his own expenses, save, and pay for his mom's help.

Joe's dad died 20 or so years ago. Joe had a great relationship with him, and they were really close, with Joe's dad taking him out for his first “legal” beer, and hanging out in the bar together. He delivered mail back when many mailmen still walked from house to house, and was killed when a student driver lost control of the car he was training in, and ran across the sidewalk hitting Joe's dad. Even worse, it was Joe's best friend's younger brother driving. Really sad—in one fell swoop, Joe lost his childhood best friend (due to the awkward situation of best friend's brother) and lost his best friend dad. Joe had just started college, but quit and went to a vo-tech school so he could get a job quickly and help out at home. That's where he'd learned to weld.

I had to choke back tears.

Joe looked at me, then smiled a flat smile. “Yeah, it was tough times for a while, but, if I hadn't learned to weld, I'd never have met you.” Wow. Now I really WAS about to cry. Too damn romantic.

“Let's go get burger's, buddy. I'll even pay for 'em!” Joe's grin was back.

“Let's do it. But you're coming over Saturday night to my place. I'll throw some steaks on the grill—and you need to plan on staying over. May have some other fun stuff to show ya.” I gave him a wink and evil grin.

“It's a date, Rex!”

(Chapter 5 next week.)