"Rocky Mountain High""
Jbalancier9@yahoo.com
Frankie Siligato, was born in the Bronx, grew up in the Flatbush section of New York, and educated with bullshit and street smarts for personality. He now lived in Colorado finding himself staring out the large glass windows of the city bus traversing 17th street.
As the bus roared down the street, Frankie reflected back to a year ago while still living in the Bronx. Here is what he was thinking...
"Frankie, what's in Colorado, that's so special," yelled Grace Belmonte from the open downstairs window, as Frankie skipped down the brown stone steps on to the street.
"I gotta date, with a gorgeous putana (slut)." Frankie yelled back, with his Brooklyn accent.
"You men are all alike. I know what you do with your crazy sex. What's, there's no whores in the Bronx good enough for you?" she yelled so half the neighborhood could hear.
The Italian stallion threw his hands in the air and shouted, "stronza "(bitch), and kept on walking."
Frankie stood out, in a crowd. He had impressive black hair, dark eyes, and satin smooth skin. Some black hair peeked from the top button on his shirt. He had a typical Mediterranean body with sun soaked skin and hairy legs. His crotch was downright delicious, and folks took notice.
His persona bubbled with a bold element of hotness, schooled in street smarts. It didn't take much dreaming for his naked body to be sweating on top of you, because Frankie was gay, and was always on top.
Yes, sure, Frankie was gay; however, he strutted around giving the impression that he fucked women in the neighborhood. As long as he talked saying, bidda-boom, and pussy, he was an okay guy. The Italians, never saw through his disguise. He would tell them something he overheard or simply made up, believing people would never know the difference, however, most of them did know the difference, but went along with his irresponsible game. "Vaffanculo - (fuck it)" the man liked sex.
His current boyfriend, Rocco Bonaduchi, moved to Denver and talked Frankie into joining him. What a dumb ass joke that turned out to be. (Frankie's words, not mine)
After being together for two months, Rocco took off for California, where all the spiteful faggots play, "truth or dare." So much for love, still Frankie believed that love was out there somewhere.
After Rocco, took the `faggot freight' to the Pacific, he became sensible when it came to love. For the first time, since his Brooklyn days of getting blowjobs behind dumpsters and fucking dudes in the ass, he was a real gentleman.
The bus kept stopping then starting, causing Frankie to pause about the past. He was a changed man, since coming to Colorado, appearing gentle, but still swearing in Italian. He had a "husky / hungry" appearance, on the surface; but here he was, planning on going from zero to hero.
Frankie liked an Italian café called "Angie's on 17th street and went there often for lunch. They served Italian food and excellent pizza. The café, with outside garden dining, catered to professionals and the lunchtime crowd including some hot looking gay men, making the menu something to drool over besides pasta.
Standing and looking for a vacant table were two seniors, Irving Brenner, and Stanley Gross. Frankie knew them from a temp job eight months ago. They began talking and commenting on how elegant, the garden looked for Angie's outdoor café.
"Are you here by your lonesome? asked Irving Brenner.
"It looks that way but I'm not staying. The tables on the patio are filling up with couples and I do not want to take one. Just for myself. I can come back later. What the fuck, it's always something."
"Come back! – don't be crazy, sit with us. The gay crowd will think we have a stud for a threesome. That should put envy on their faces," commented Stanley, laughing. Their conversation was short-lived however, when Barry, a remarkable gay waiter, came to take their order. Gosh, he was good looking.
"Hello Frankie, good to see you," said Barry. "What can I get everybody?" he asked.
"How about naked," babbled Frankie, realizing he sounded like an idiot, after wanting to leave behind the Bronx, and behave.
"Naked is not on the menu," replied Barry making a joke to calm the situation. Actually, Frankie intrigued Barry, dripping with his cocky masculine power. Their eyes locked on one another just for a second, but that second was powerful. After Barry walked away, Frankie said, "I'm going to marry that man."
"Yeah, sure, of course you are," said Stanley, laughing at him.
Please remember Nifty – thank you.