MY SUMMER OF SEX WITH COWBOY
Chapter 49
By Donny Mumford
Yeah, blowing Gordon was stupid of me, especially after that hot sex I had with Dickie. While that is true, Gordon's dick looked like Bruce's, plus he said 'please,' and I don't hear that word very often. Jeez, though, Dickie's got all the bells and whistles that bring on enough sexy submissiveness to rock my world, and I don't even like him. I like how he gets the job done professionally, though, and his paddling technique sets things up perfectly for what comes next.
Common sense tells me Dickie doesn't have many, if any, customers who put out the money I do, which is why I knew he'd readily accept my apology for throwing him out of the hotel room. And then, yeah, my humble apology was a factor in my increased submissiveness this morning. Actually, I should be embarrassed, but I'm not. No one knows about it except Dickie, and what do I care what he thinks?
Jeez, though, I've paid a lot of money to male prostitutes this summer when, previously, I never paid for a single one, never even considered it. And, I've had this thought a couple of times already, but it's true that Richard, as big a prick as he is, did me a huge favor that night he dominated me and taught me my true sexual nature. Because of that, I've had the best sex of my life this summer. Wow, what a summer it's been traveling with Cowboy... and none of this would have happened if he wasn't with me, and he hadn't met Lee. Life is funny like that, ya know?
Well, I'm on my way to have breakfast and see Bruce. The pussy boy sex I'm having with Dickie is sexy/hot but pales compared to my sex with Bruce. The funny thing is, I don't feel especially submissive during sex with Bruce. Not recently, I don't, and that's because now we're having lovers' sex. I don't need to feel especially submissive with my lover's sex, apparently. It's all new to me. And, sure, Bruce knows I'm paying pussy boys during the day, but he also knows I'll stop when he and I begin having sex more than once a day. Twice a day with him might do it, but he's only recently discovered he wants to have sex with me at all, so it will probably take a while for him to want to do it more often. Meanwhile, this arrangement ain't bad!
Of course, the other factor is, individuals' have different sex drives, and maybe Bruce will never want to have sex more frequently... so what then? That's a good question, one I'll deal with later if necessary. For now, Bruce and I are copacetic with how it's going between us. I'm more than copacetic; I'm thrilled that Bruce feels he loves me. It's complicated, of course, life is complicated...
After parking and paying, I walk up the ramp to the boardwalk feeling awesome. I'm light on my feet and as contended as can be. Contentment is not necessarily fulfillment of everything I want, but the realization of what I already have. I mean, it's ten-after-eight, and I'm already set up for the day ready to be cool with Bruce, and knowing we're going to have lover's sex tonight.
Hmm, I see the rental booth over the beachside railing but can't tell if Markie's there yet. I don't think they open until nine anyway. At the cafe, there's a short line of people waiting for an available seat inside. It's the weekend crowd, that's what has caused this backup on a Saturday morning. I stand behind a man and woman holding hands. They appear to be in their forties and still holding hands after probably being married fifteen years. I'm guessing they're married because the man has a wedding band on the proper finger. Huh, holding hands is sweet. Yeah, but Bruce probably isn't the holding-hands type. That's too bad because that seems a very intimately sexy thing to do.
In front of the couple holding hands are the two gay swisher boys I saw on the beach yesterday. They appear to be about Bruce's age or younger; one is short and blond-headed with a somewhat supercilious expression on his face, and the other one is a tall, light-skinned African American, neither of them especially cute, but they're cute together. They're not holding hands, but the way they're standing too close together, the way they keep finding reasons to touch each other, their heads close together whispering, then giggling; it all screams, hey everybody, we're gay boyfriends. Ya don't need gaydar to recognize that.
In front of them, is a mother/father combo with two teenage kids, a boy around fifteen and a girl who looks sort of like the boy but maybe two years younger. Both kids are frowning and looking as if they'd like to be someplace else, preferably with creatures in their tribe, meaning kids their age. Then, those four are ushered into the cafe. As that happens, a man and woman senior citizens'-age get in line behind me. The woman taps my arm and says, "Excuse me, young man, is this line moving quickly. Have you been waiting long?" The man makes a snorting sound as if he's annoyed she asked me that.
Smiling, I say, "I got here a minute before ago, and already four people in line got served," then the two swishing gay boys go in, and I add, "There go two more." She said, "Thank you, we drove down from Philly this morning, and we..." The man interrupts, "He doesn't care when we drove down here, or where we drove down here from... for God's sake, Mary!" She pats my arm, mumbling, "Thank you." I want to pop that old guy on his too-large nose, but spending a day in jail would likely be the result of that.
Then, the hand-holding couple and I are inside. I get seated at a small table against the wall with Bruce coming right over. He pours me coffee, saying, "My, my, you're looking pleased this morning." I go, "It's you, Bruce. You make me happy." He goes, "Uh-huh, and I feel the same way about you. Um, whaddya going to have for breakfast?"
Without looking at the menu and enjoying his comment immensely, I go, "Oh, that's nice. Let's see, I'll have two fried eggs over easy, a slice of ham, home fries, and white toast." As he scratches something on the little pad in his hand, he mutters, "Okay, number 8 with white. Coming up, Zach," and off he goes. Hmm, these boardwalk shops are much deeper than this dining room, so this shop could be twice as big if someone wanted it to be bigger. The kitchen is open along the side opposite where I'm sitting, so half this place isn't being utilized.
Yeah, maybe it could be turned into a dining room with a cool enough atmosphere that casino patrons would come here for dinner. After buying this place, though, it would take a lot of expensive renovations to turn it into a dining destination. And, I think I read that restaurants are the number one failure of all new business types in the world. Amateurs think they can run a successful restaurant until they try doing it and find out the zillion details they didn't know about. Buying this joint is a loser idea, but I need to let Bruce come to that conclusion himself. Maybe I can help him by getting some facts about it from Google. I need to do it cleverly, though, plus have an alternative business plan we can work together.
Glancing around the room, I see Bruce laughing about something with customers at a table near the front. He's smiling and laughing, and, gee, he's changed so much, so quickly--my hat's off to him. Surprisingly fast, my breakfast is served. I go, "That was fast," and Bruce says, "Yes, sir. The chef is a genius." I mumble, "Well, what a good and loyal waiter you are. Would you care to have dinner with my sister tonight?" He snickers, "Sorry, my boyfriend would be disappointed if I did that, so, no." I go, "Boyfriend? Oh, so you're a fag, huh?" He laughs out loud and hurries off to do his job.
Well, the chef is fast but he's not a genius. My fried eggs are over hard, not over easy. Not that I'd complain to the nice waiter. I eat quickly because I don't particularly appreciate eating alone. Then, hard egg yolks or not, I tip the shit out of my waiter, wave at him, and then I'm on my way to the car, where I get a towel and sunscreen. Going down the beach, I'm feeling terrific, sexually satisfied, and almost giddy about everything.
At the rental booth, two teenage girls are waiting as Markie opens the rental stand. He's mumbling, "We don't open for fifteen minutes, but I'll take care of you just as soon as I get set up here." One of the girls, the one who would be a super-cute boy, says, "Thank you." The other girl, who wouldn't make a super-cute boy, and who needs to skip lunch for about a year, says, "Just hand us two chairs now." as she holds a ten-dollar bill out.
I say to the overweight girl, "I'm sorry for your hearing problem. Obviously, you didn't hear him say he'd help you when he's done setting up." Markie glances over and grins at me but doesn't say anything. The hefty chick, about seventeen, I'd guess, goes, "Nobody's talking to you." I go, "If not me, then who are you talking to?" The cute girl, who looks younger than hefty, says to the hefty girl, "Sissy, please don't start up..." I smile brightly at them.
Markie finishes taking inventory, writes something on a clipboard, and says, "Two beach chairs, right?" Sissy snootily says, "That's what I just said," and the other girl goes, "Plus an umbrella, please." Sissy shoots daggers at me as I smile and say, "Have a nice day."
Getting back from dealing with the girls' umbrella, Markie again does his cute grin, saying, "I set them up as far away from your spot on the beach as they'd let me." Smiling at him, I'm like, "Good, thanks, Markie! Um, where ya been the last two days? I missed you, dude." He walks behind the counter, then says, "You're the most smiling person I've ever run into. What's up with that?" I go, "It's my boyfriend. He's responsible for that. How's your b/f doing?" Markie mumbles, "None of your business." I go, "That good, huh?" He puts one of the new chairs out for me, asking, "Umbrella?" I smirk, "Yes, but doesn't your boyfriend need me to beat anyone up?" Picking through the umbrellas, he chooses a newish one, saying, "Nope! The homophobes are leaving us alone now that we've got you as our bodyguard."
He puts the umbrella on his skinny shoulder and starts walking. I catch up to him, saying, "So, your hair has grown out nicely from that horrendous haircut the boyfriend gave you a month ago, huh?" He mutters, "Is that supposed to be a pick upline?" I laugh, "Yeah, it's my best one. So, where have you been the last two days?" As he twists the umbrella into the sand, he mumbles, "I needed to drive my old man to work and back until my mom could do it again, not that it's any of your business. Um, the stand's owner, Mr. Grayson, was here running things." I give him ten bucks, saying, "Yeah, I know, but he's grumpy, and I prefer your grumpiness to his." He snickers, "I'm not grumpy to you."
Rubbing his head, I'm like, "How much tip did those girls give you?" He rolls his eyes, "What do you think?" I go, "That much, huh?" He says, "Yep, zip." As I open the beach chair, I watch him walk away. Wow, cute ass on that kid!
Oh, man, I feel good. Well, it is a rather weak sun this morning, which is understandable this early, but that will get better. Hmm, there aren't many people on the beach yet, which I appreciate. After this weekend, there are only two weekends left before Labor Day, so it's getting close to decision time for me. Hmm, Bruce will be working at the cafe through September, but I'll need a plan work-wise for him and me after that. I might take a chance on seeing dear old dad. He'll have a job for us in the firm. Well, hell yeah! That's what I'll do, and why didn't I think of that earlier?
Then I suppose the gay thing will come up then. He's known I'm gay for years, of course, although we've never discussed it directly. I suppose I'll need to do that now because of Bruce. It won't be Mac who will set me up with a job anyway. He'll tell me to talk with Jo-Jo Sale in New York about a job. Hell, Jo Jo basically runs Mac's whole enterprise now and JoJo loves me. He's my Godfather. He invited Ronny and me to join him in Key West last spring. Then Ronny was killed and, at the funeral, JoJo and I didn't talk much. Cowboy and I did spend some time in Key West, although not with JoJo. Since then, he's sent me a few texts, but I've been vague about what I'm doing. He hasn't pried because he knows Ronny and I were super close and I'd need time to get over... that.
Yeah, I'll think about this job situation some more. It has possibilities, although Mac wants me to go to law school first and foremost. I'm not smart enough for that, though, and even if I was, I don't want to do it for a hundred reasons, and now Bruce is one more reason because he couldn't do it.
Yeah, Bruce, Jeez, he looked cute this morning. He's like Markie in that when he smiles or grins, that's when his cuteness shines through, and, unlike Markie, Bruce has been doing a lot of smiling and grinning lately. Hmm, I wonder if Mac ever mentioned to JoJo about me being gay? They became friends years and years ago when they were getting their MBA degrees at Wharton. Yeah, Mac had to have mentioned that minor fact to JoJo, although he, like my old man, has never said a word about it to me. As I've said ten times, life is complicated, but this is another topic I'm putting on the back burner to think more about later. I want to enjoy how good I'm feeling this morning and especially how excited I am about Bruce and me. Wow, this morning he said I make him happy.
After spending an hour or so fantasizing about what a fabulous life Bruce and I will have together, I do a leisurely swim. Then, while walking up the beach to my chair, I see the gay swishy young guys giggling as they try spreading their beach blanket, hampered greatly by a strong breeze coming off the Atlantic.
"Need some help, guys?" I ask as I walk up to them. The tall one gives me a girlie pose, a hand on his hip, as he lisps, "Well, aren't you sweet. Yes, take a corner on Henry's side; I can handle this side because of my wide wingspan." Supercilious Henry goes, "Are you a lifeguard or something?" Nodding, I go, "Yes, um, the 'or something part,'" and I take a corner of the blanket from him. The three of us pull the blanket flat on the sand.
Henry goes, "I suppose now you want to lie in the middle with Antoine and I on either side of you." Antoine says, "Don't pay any attention to him. It's windy, huh?" I nod, "Yep," and walk up to my chair. They lie on the blanket as the breeze blows up one side of it, and I hear, "Shit!" as they spread out their arms and legs, giggling, looking uncomfortable. The wind dies down for now, and they roll together to the middle of the blanket, then Henry is on his side doing something on Antoine's face with his finger.
Looking away from them, I wonder what percentage of Nature or nurture causes some of us gays to be, well, kind of girlie-acting like Henry and Antoine, while others like Bruce and me are straight-acting, or what is accepted as normal-acting. On the other hand, those two probably feel they're normal. Puzzling...
The sun is hot now, so I move my chair under the umbrella and check my cell phone... it's ten-thirty. Well, I should be seeing Lee and Cowboy any minute. I hear giggling from Henry and realize that occasionally Lee and even Cowboy will break out with a gay affectation or two. I've noticed it from Cowboy when he's been with Lee. Yeah, I never noticed it before, not that I care one way or the other. It's just that guys like Antoine and Henry have a tougher time in this 'straight' oriented world we're all living in.
A little later, I hear from behind me Lee chattering away as he and Cowboy walk down the beach towards me. He's chattering about one of the boy's favorite topics, Cosmology. A combination of physics and astrophysics. He's saying, "No, you're wrong, Cowboy. There are 120 billion galaxies in the observable Universe." Cowboy goes, "Well, no shit! I'm talking about when telescope technology in space improves. Then they'll probably discover 10 times that number. There's probably ninety percent of the Universe that modern technology is unable to view." I turn around and say, "Keep it down, you two. There could be for-real astrophysics around here who will know you're both full of it." Cowboy goes, "Hi, Zach. Lee thinks he knows it all." Lee sets his chair down and hugs my shoulders, saying, "I pretty much do know about the Universe, Zach. It's been my hobby since I was eight."
Cowboy sets his chair next to Lee's, the arms touching, and then says, "Well, it is a wicked interesting topic. What's the furthest galaxy, Lee?" He says, "That would be galaxy MAGSO 647-JD at 13.3 billion light-years away. It's relatively new and much smaller than our Milky Way." Cowboy says, "A hundred and twenty billion galaxies and many of them are huge. Our Milky Way is a medium-size galaxy, but if we set off the fastest spaceship we presently have at 35,000 miles an hour, it would need to roar through space at top speed for two billion years to reach the other side of our galaxy." I'm like, "Wow, we'd probably all be dead by then." He goes, "No shit, Einstein. Oh, by the way, Zach, did you know there's been research done as to why men's penis heads are larger than the penis shaft?" I'm like, "Huh? That's a helluva change of topic. Um, for real... someone did a study about that?"
Cowboy goes, "Yeah, a few studies. The American government did one in 2020. It was a $180,000 study that concluded that the larger head was provided by natural selection to give the man more pleasure to ensure, ya know, procreation or some such shit. Before that, the French government
did a three-year $250,000 study concluding the enlarged head was for womens' increased pleasure." Lee goes, "Yep, and then there was an Irish group who were unsatisfied with those conclusions and had a study of their own. After two weeks and $75.46 spent for pints of Guinness, they concluded the larger heads was to keep a man's fist from flying off the end and hitting himself in the face."
They're both laughing at their own joke as I shake my head, mumbling, "I knew that was an 'effing joke after you said five words," then I chuckle too, mimicking jerking off with my hand flying up, hitting my forehead. They simmer down, and Cowboy tells me how the Ferris wheel got stuck last night with Lee and him at the very top, and Lee had to take a piss wicked bad and how he, Cowboy, kept tickling Lee, getting him laughing, trying to make him pee his pants. Lee tells his side of the story, and then he goes on to tell me how Cowboy turned white and almost threw up on the Tilt-a-Whirl, and Cowboy tells his version... and so on. They're very entertaining.
Then I'm thinking how Bruce and I, for very different reasons, couldn't even imagine doing any of that silly childish stuff when we were nineteen, but we would probably have been better off if we had. Of course, the boys were acting immature for their ages last night, but they didn't care... they were having fun, not hurting anyone, and not hurting themselves.
Later, they get up to take a dip in the ocean; on the way, they stop to talk to Henry and Antoine. I don't know who initiated the conversation, probably Cowboy, but after a couple of minutes of talking, the other two get up and all four of them go in for a swim. I walk up to the street and buy five cold water bottles from a vendor who only charges $3.00 a bottle. Swell...
After a fifteen-minute swim, the guys come out of the water and drag Antoine's and Henry's blanket up to where we have our chairs and umbrella set up. Cowboy says, "You already met these guys, Zach. Can you believe they're from Key West, and yet they come up here to vacation?" I mutter, "Wow," and Henry goes, "We stop at all the spots up the east coast that have amusement parks and boardwalks. Key West doesn't have any."
As I nod at the bottles of water, for something to say, I go, "And, um, what is it you two do? For work, I mean." Henry puts his arm around the back of Antoine's neck, saying, "You sound like my parents. Um, we don't do anything. We're going into our junior year at Florida State University." I'm like, "Oh, college students." They look older, but they're actually closer to Cowboy's age than Bruce's.
Lee says, "Thanks for the water, Zach," and the other three mutter thanks as they all grab a bottle, then Henry says, "Antoine and I almost had heart attacks when we saw Cowboy here. Whoa, he's gorgeous!" Cowboy finishes his bottle of water, mumbling, "Yeah, everybody says that, Henry." Lee goes, "You two keep your hands to yourself 'cause Cowboy belongs to me. Doncha, Cowboy?" Cowboy says, "Totally. Yeah, Lee's my man!"
Whatever. They talk about Ocean City, Maryland, comparing those amusement rides with ones on The Steel Pier and other places as I lose interest and maybe feel a little bit jealous of their youthfulness. Henry is the size of Lee, meaning short and slim; he has longish blond hair and big blue eyes, but, as I said, he's not cute at all. His face is all angles with a pointy nose, chin, and cheekbones. Antoine is maybe six feet tall, an inch or so shorter than Bruce and Cowboy, and stockier. He has a short African American hairdo and nice facial features, but he's not cute either. He's nice-looking but probably was cute as a younger teenager. It's funny that size-wise, Antoine and Henry resemble Cowboy and Lee, with the smaller one in each case the boss.
Looking away from the boys, I try to develop a solid plan for talking to my old man about the future, but I can't make myself commit to a specific timetable for when I might do that. If Bruce were less conscientious, less responsible, my life would be easier 'cause it's better when he's with me deciding stuff for us. No, it's not even that so much as I simply like him being with me. We could travel around doing shit together if he didn't insist on working. Haha, that sounds so fucked up of me. What do you expect, though? I'm a trust fund asshole. I graduated from Yale, then four years as a Navy Seal so, ya know, I was doing something worthwhile then. For the past three months, I've been drifting aimlessly but having the time of my life.
Cowboy and Lee are great kids, but we don't have a helluva lot in common. Amusement rides bore me, and I don't care about Solar System factoids... and they're nineteen for Christ's sakes! I'm twenty-eight and Bruce just turned twenty-three, although, in many ways, he's older than me. Lucky I met him too, or I'd probably have reenlisted in the Seals for lack of anything better to do. The possibility of going back to school for a law degree, as I said, has always been out of the fucking question, and working for the firm in a desk job has equally been so. Now, though, with Bruce... hmm.
Oh, fuck, look at that guy walking by! A hot-looking cute motherfucker walking by himself. I'm not the slightest bit horny, but if I was... What the hell? He's probably not gay, so I'm not missing out on anything.
Telling the guys, "I'm going for a walk," I head down the breach thinking about Bruce again. There's no way around it; I've got to think of a job we can work together because he's not happy unless he's paying his way. After fifteen minutes, I realize I'm ogling guys on the beach again, so I walk back on the boardwalk where there are fewer guys to gawk at. When I see Markie's rental booth, I take the next set of steps to the beach. Markie's busy with customers as I walk by, so I don't bother him.
I'm not horny, thanks to Dickie, and that's a blessing. Approaching the boys, I see Cowboy sitting on the blanket with Henry kneeling next to him, a hand behind Cowboy's head. What's he doing? I hear Lee's saying, "Wait, Henry! Um, that might detract from Cowboy's natural gorgeousness." Henry says, "Be quiet, Lee," and Antoine says, "Cowboy looks too macho without a little eye makeup. Wait until you see how he looks when Henry uses his eyelash curler and then adds mascara." Jesus!
When I sit down, Antoine asks me, "How was your walk?" I shrug, "It was okay, um, what's going on?" He moves his limp wrist on which he's wearing many thin metal bracelets, and, making a prissy face, he goes, "Henry's adding to Cowboy's beauty. He's an expert at applying just the proper amount of makeup. When we go to clubs drag, I look so hot. Don't I, Henry?" Henry mumbles, "Shut up, Antoine. I need to concentrate," and he uses a gadget to close on Cowboy's eyelashes. When Henry releases it, Cowboy's eyelashes now curve up dramatically. Lee giggles, "Ya know what? I'm starting to like this, Henry." Henry nods, mumbling, "And you're next, Lee," then he does Cowboy's other eyelash. Antoine is still sipping water from the bottle I bought an hour ago. He says, "Now mascara, right, Henry?"
Uh-huh, there are so many negative things I could say about this, all of them swirling around in my head, which is where I leave them by resisting the urge to say them out loud. Looking around, I don't see anyone paying attention to what's going on, so I'm not going to either. It's so like Cowboy, though. He goes along with nonsense just to see what it's like. It's none of my business anyway, as Markie reminds me of frequently.
They fuck around with the makeup bullshit for another ten minutes, and then when Henry is satisfied, Cowboy looks at me, fluttering his eyelashes, "What do you think, Zach?" I look over and say, "Hmm, I think you looked better without makeup." Cowboy goes, "Who has a mirror?" Henry goes into his 'murse' or man's purse that he probably calls his shoulder satchel and hands Cowboy a mirror. Cowboy laughs out loud, then says, "Holy shit, Henry. Now do my man, Lee. I can't wait to see him with makeup." Henry sternly says, "You're a cowgirl now! Okay, move your ass over so I can do Lee." Cowboy gets up and sits on his beach chair, mumbling, "You'll need to do us all over again after we shower." Henry says, "I can't wait to 'do' you for real, Cowgirl," leaving the double entendre hanging in the air.
I've had all I can take of this, so I ask, "Would you guys be interested in pizza?" That's pretty much a rhetorical question as I already knew the answer. Trudging up the sand to the boardwalk, I'm patting myself on the back for not saying anything negative to put a damper on their gay makeup party. During my days of bar pickups, I'd hook up with an occasional guy who was wearing some eye makeup, but I like guys, not girls. The closer to girls a guy looks, the less interest I have in him. That's just me, though, others feel differently, and that's okay too.
Waiting for two cheese pizzas, I spot my ex-pussy boy, Jon, walking the boards in his pussy boy gear. He's not approaching guys, just wandering around near the locker rooms, probably hoping for a past client to hire him. As I've said before, Jon and almost all pussy boys look like legal-age clean-cut teens. Many gay men want a gay man, though, emphasis on 'man,' so they're not interested in clean-cut teens, and then there are gay guys like me who are interested in them. That's the beauty of online dating; you can choose your type. Random bar or street cruising is a different ball game altogether. For one thing, how do you tell if a guy is gay? You can't tell from looking at Jon unless you make eye contact, and you're taking a chance there because if the guy is straight, that usually ends up with the guy asking snottily, "What the fuck are you looking at?" That, of course, leaves him open to some snotty retorts. It's a different ballgame, that's for sure.
Huh, Jon looks smaller than I remember him being, but he gave me my money's worth. It's nice not being horny or I'd be talking with Jon right now... haha. And, I'm pretty sure my choice of younger guys for sex partners is me trying to relive my prep school days when, other than this summer, I had my hottest sex. That's probably a pretty good guess. That, and me trying to make up for what I stupidly missed out on by being Ronny's flunkie, ironically thinking I was a badass. Ha, the joke was on me!
I passed the cafe going for the pizzas, and now I pass it again as I'm carrying the pizzas back to the steps to the beach. Both times passing the cafe, I wanted to go in and gawk at Bruce for a minute or two. Heh heh, he probably wouldn't like me doing that, though, so I won't. When I'm walking down the beach with the pizza boxes, Cowboy sees me and jogs up to meet me taking the boxes, saying, "Hey, thanks, Zach. Antoine bought big cups of Cokes for all of us." Nodding, I go, "Excellent."
Cowboy's still wearing the very noticeable eye makeup, his eyelashes curved, thick with mascara, and looking like shit, but I hold my tongue. As I walk to the chairs, I see Henry is just finishing Lee's makeup, and Lee asks me the same thing Cowboy asked. He calls out, "Hey, Zach, how do I look?" He's wearing the baseball cap Henry had on when I left for the pizzas. Henry has done a full face makeup for Lee. Eye makeup like Cowboys, plus pale lipstick and some blush on Lee's cheeks. It's starling, but to me, not in a good way. I grin, saying, "You look like a tough girl, but, um, you look good too, ya know?" Why bust his balls? He's looking at a mirror, mumbling, "I thought makeup would look better on Cowboy than me, but this is a hot gay look, Henry." Henry says bossily, "Give me the mirror. Tonight I'll pluck your eyebrows too, they're too thick."
Cowboy opens the pizza boxes as I say, "Thanks for the Coke, Antoine." He does something with his shoulders and head, saying sweetly, "Well, you couldn't be more welcome, handsome." Henry, who I'd already decided is the boss of Antoine, says to Lee, "Bring your boy, Cowboy, to the motel we're staying at, and I'll do both your makeups before we go on the rides." Lee picks up a pizza wedge, saying, "Okay, Henry, we'll be there. What time are we going to leave tomorrow for Wildwood." Henry says, "I haven't decided yet. I'll let you know tonight."
Uh-huh, Henry has apparently taken over being in charge of Cowboy and Lee too. Well, in charge of Lee as he's already in charge of Cowboy, who couldn't care less. As I said, Cowboy goes along with any and everything as long as it's fun. He's happily eating pizza and letting others decide. That's all fine and dandy, but those guys being made up like girls will attract the worst kind of attention on the boardwalk at night, and none of these guys are tough enough to do anything about it. I'll talk to Cowboy and Lee about that very thing at dinner.
Fortunately, a half-hour after eating the two pizzas, the boys go in for a swim, and ninety percent of their makeup gets washed off. Antoine and Henry remind me of that loser, Joe, and his boyfriend, Ricky, who also dominated Cowboy and put makeup on him, minus the curved eyelash ridiculousness. Fuck!
Now, after swimming, Antoine and Lee are on the beach blanket, giggling about something as Henry says to Cowboy, "How 'bout you joining the guys on the blanket so I can sit in your chair out of the sun." Cowboy goes, "Sure, Henry," and when he gets up, Henry gooses his ass, both of them smiling at that. Yep, Henry is another Ricky.
He settles in under the umbrella next to me, and, crossing his legs the way girls do it, then he taps my arm, saying, "Cowboy tells me you're his guardian this summer. Um, after his brother got himself killed and all." I go, "That's a boorish way of putting it." He looks confused, Huh?" I shake my head and add, "Cowboy's pulling your chain. I'm not his guardian; he doesn't need one." He goes, "Oh! Um, well, do you find me attractive? Just wondering 'cause I couldn't help notice you looking at me all the time." I snort out a laugh, then go, "You must have me confused with someone else, Henry. First of all, you're too young for me, and even if you weren't, sorry, but you're too, um... I don't think we'd hit it off. No offense intended. And, for the record, I've barely glanced at you."
He mutters, "No offense taken. So, if not me, what is your type? Would it be macho tough guys like yourself?" Shaking my head again, fighting off an urge to smack him, I go, "Not necessarily, um, it varies." He purses his lips as he hits my shoulder, murmuring, "Lee says I remind him of your boyfriend, Bruce. So I thought perhaps you'd be interested in you and me having a go at it. You're a bottom, right?"
Wow, he has a large set of balls! I grin, "No, um, no thanks." He says, "You say no now, but I've handled bigger boys than you, and you're missing out on a great time. My boy, Antoine, and I will only be here for two days. Monday morning, we'll be heading back to Florida to get ready for college, so you need to make up your mind quickly... think about it."
Grinning, I say, "Sure thing, Henry." He gets up, saying, "You know what? I can see in your eyes you want me to do you. Heh-heh, you'll come around, and when you do, it'll be just between you and me. Keep your mouth shut about it. It'll be our secret and all I need is ten minutes. Ten minutes with me, and you'll be following me to Florida... haha," and he rubs my head, adding, "And I like your boyish haircut." Oh, man, what an ego! And he said all that while exhibiting every gay affectation imaginable. Obviously, Henry misinterpreted what Lee said, and he's thinking Bruce is a swishy gay like he and Antoine. Wait'll Bruce gets here... Henry's in for a surprise.
Sure, I could easily have dumped dump on Henry, but what would be the point of that? He's arrogant, obnoxious, and too full of himself but I don't need to be like that too. Oh, Christ, though, what if I was super horny? I'd be susceptible to playing the submissive role with Henry because he's dominant, small, and young. It might be oddly fun, um, assuming I didn't bust out laughing at him. Hmm, something tells me I wouldn't be laughing.
He's on the blanket now talking about a gay club he and Antoine were at last night... the three guys listening to him as if he's their leader. Some guys, obnoxious or not, just ooze confidence and leadership qualities. Yeah, under different circumstances, Henry would make for a very different sub/dom experience, so I shouldn't be so smug about rejecting him. Now I'm wondering what kind of equipment he's got, so I look at his crotch. Yep, that's quite a bulge. I squirm in the chair... ten minutes, huh?
Then, I get another rub on my head, and this time it's Bruce doing the rubbing. Smiling, he goes, "Have you been missing me?" I smile back, saying, "Always, Bruce." He opens his beach chair, setting it up next to mine, saying, "A sexy hunk of a guy left me a monstrous tip this morning, so how about if I take you out for a boyfriend dinner tonight." I go, "Oh, wow, a date! Sure!" Then he goes, "Um, who are those two," pointing at the blanket. Shrugging, I'm like, "A couple of gay guys the boys hooked up with. They're, um, a bit on the swishy side of gay."
Bruce shrugs, "Nothing wrong with that," and I go, "No, not unless they're obnoxious as well. The blond is slightly annoying." Bruce turns to look at me, saying, "Whatever. Um, I was thinking about you and me. You know, after you left the cafe this morning. Ah, and, um, I kind of, well, I hated seeing you go. Haha, it's crazy, but I wanted to take you back to the supply room and fuck your brains out. You looked so sexy, and you're, um, you're so fucking nice, ya know?"
Holy shit! I goofily go, "Yeah, I pride myself on being nice, that's true." He laughs, then says, "Seriously, though, it was such a strange sensation seeing you walk out and me wanting to do that supply room thing with you, um, you being so nice and everything." I'm like, "Was it the big tip?" He laughs again, "No, I hadn't seen the tip yet." I go, "Do you think it's love?" He nods, "Yeah, I think so. That and me experiencing horniness for the first time in my life. I think that's what it was... I think I was horny for you."
Any thought I had of Henry evaporates, poof. This is awesome! I'm like, "I don't suppose we could sneak into the cafe's supply room, could we?" He grins, "No, probably not, but after I soak up some sun, perhaps we could leave the beach before Cowboy and Lee do. Maybe sneak in some early sex before dinner. You know, to alleviate my supposed horniness. See if that's what it was, anyhow." Nodding, I say, "Soak up some sun first, though, right?" He nods, "Uh-huh, for an hour perhaps." I go, "In that case, let's move our chairs out from under this umbrella." Nodding, he's like, "Good idea, Zach," and that's what we do.
Holy crap! We've been traveling a bumpy road to an uncertain destination for weeks now, and look where we've arrived at! Bruce says, "This is quite the..." but Henry gets off the blanket and interrupts, lisping, "You're Bruce, right? I see what Lee meant, saying you and I are alike." Bruce frowns, "And who are you?" Henry holds out his limp wristed hand, saying, "Henry Coyle." Nodding at the blanket, he adds, "And that's my boyfriend, Antoine Wheater. Cowboy introduced himself to us, and now we've bonded like girlfriends, and we're hanging out together." Shaking hands briefly, Bruce says, "I think you've been misinformed, Henry," then he calls over to Lee, "What have you been telling Henry about me, Lee?"
Lee gets up all smiles, "Just good things, Bruce. Why?" I go, "Henry thinks he and Bruce are alike." Lee snickers, "I just meant they're the same size and both a tad bossy, but in a good way." Bruce goes, "Are you wearing lipstick, Lee?" Lee's hand goes to his lips as he mumbles, "Most of it washed off in the water. Henry made up Cowboy and me." Henry says, "I've decided we're doing the Steel Pier partially in drag tonight." Bruce mutters, "That's a fuckin' terrible idea." Cowboy yells over, "I'm starting to think the same thing." Antoine goes, "Hey," and playfully gets Cowboy in a headlock, his many bracelets jangling, and he goes, "Ah, c'mon. It'll be fun."
Henry pushes Lee, mumbling, "He's not like me," and they go back to the blanket as Bruce rolls his eyes, muttering, "Jesus..." I go, "Yeah, I know, but whaddya gonna do? They're leaving Monday to go home." Shrugging, Bruce says, "Well, luckily we're not Cowboy's and Lee's parents, so... whatever." I'm like, "Oh, that's right, we're not, and thank God!" We both chuckle. Bruce rubs my shoulder, and mumbles, "Anyway, I've already got my hands full taking care of you, don't I?" Snickering, I go, "For sure, but let's talk more about what we'll be doing before going out to dinner tonight. What'd you have in mind for us, specifically, if you don't mind me asking?"
Grinning, Bruce goes, "Well, as I said, I'm thinking of fucking your brains out." Nodding, I mumble, "Oh, yeah, that'll work." Henry and Lee are sitting in Cowboy's and Lee's beach chairs now talking about who's boyfriend's hotter in bed, Henry saying, "No comparison, your Cowgirl is so much better looking than my Antoine it's not even funny, but other than that, there isn't any way he can be as sexy as Antoine is in bed. Just not possible..." Lee goes, "Maybe to you, but we're in love, Cowboy and me, so, to me, no one could be hotter in bed than Cowboy."
I roll my eyes at Bruce and ask, "How about a swim?" He nods and, as we walk to the ocean, Bruce grips the back of my neck, we step into the water and he snickers, then says, "I should have joined Henry's and Lee's discussion and told you to go wrestle with Antoine and Cowboy on the blanket. It'd be us three doms bragged about our submissive boyfriends." I go, "Yeah, and the three of you could buy dog collars and walk us on the boards showing us off, huh?" He laughs, "I'll suggest that to Lee and Henry." I go, "And don't forget the paddle." Walking deeper into the ocean, he says, "No, don't remind me about that. I hate myself for paddling you... I really do."
Hmm, I wonder if I can get Dickie to teach Bruce the correct sexy way to paddle my ass. Or, perhaps I won't do that, haha. Stopping in waist-deep water, I say, "Bruce, don't hate yourself for paddling my ass. I was complicit with the paddling. We were trying to outsmart Richard, remember?" He goes, "See how nice you are?" I go, "I know. I can't help myself... it's just the way I am." He laughs and hugs my shoulders, mumbling, "No dog collars! And, definitely no paddling." We continue wading out further to begin swimming where there are no people. The lifeguard stands in his booth waving at us and blowing his whistle but we ignore him and swim away.
It's not easy for me to swim as slowly as Bruce swims, but that's what I do and after a little more than two hundred yards, I nod back at the way we came, "Let's start back." He gasps and says, "I need to float for a couple of minutes first." I nod, and he asks, "Did we do a half mile?" I go, "Not quite.." It's closer to one-eighth of a mile, actually. As we float, I look in at the beach that's crowded with sunbathers now and wonder why people gravitate to beaches all over the world. Maybe it's that the water induces a mildly meditative state of calm and gentle awareness of... of what?
Bruce says, "I'm ready," and off we go, swimming back to where we started. The lifeguard has lost interest in us by the time we're walking up the beach to our chairs. Our four companions are walking to the chairs from the street holding snow cones of shaved ice and sweet syrup. We meet at the chairs and Cowboy asks, "Do you guys want one of these? I'll go back and get you one before the guy leaves." I shake my head, "Not for me, thanks," and Bruce goes, "No, thanks." Henry says, "We don't need lipstick now. Look, you all have red lips." Antoine says, "You've got lemon-flavored ice so your lips are yellow." For some reason, they all giggle at that.
Cowboy is like a chameleon in that he changes to fit in with his surroundings. In this case, mimicking the two swishy gay boys. He did the same thing in our early travels by acting like Rickie the days he hooked up and slept with him. And, Lee had a touch of girlishness in him, to begin with. Just a touch, though, before coming under the influence of these two, that is. Yeah, but I've come to think of Lee as my little brother, so he can do no wrong in my eyes, and I have even stronger feelings along those lines for Cowboy. The other two can take a hike, and the sooner the better.
After Bruce and I dry in the sun, he says, "Ready to go, Zach?" I'm like, "You bet, boss," and get right up. See, lately, Bruce has been asking if I'm ready to do this or that when before, he'd tell me when we're doing this or that. Either way, it's okay with me. Bruce says to Cowboy, and Lee, "We'll see you guys back at the house." Lee comes over and quietly asks, "Can we invite Henry and Antoine for dinner?" Bruce looks at me, then says, "I'm taking Zach out to dinner tonight," then he asks me, "What do you think?" I shrug, "If it's okay with Cowboy. I mean, he is a one-third partner in the apartment." Lee says, "We'll clean up afterward, thanks."
Bruce and I put our shirts on, step into our sandals, then take our chairs to the rental booth where I say, "Markie, dude, we saved you the trouble of collecting these chairs but we left the umbrella, so," and I slap a ten-dollar bill on the counter. He goes, "You don't need to do that, Zach." Ah-ha, that's the second time he's said my name! I grin, "Yes, I do," and I shoot him with my finger and thumb, mumbling, "See ya tomorrow, hotshot."
As we're getting in the car, Bruce says, "I'm excited, Zach. I've never felt like this before." I seriously mumble, "I can't put into words how happy you make me, so I won't even try." Driving out of the parking lot, he wistfully says, "So, this is what real life feels like."
I'm wicked happy for myself but even happier for Bruce. He's chatty during the twenty-minute drive to the apartment telling me cafe tales from today's experiences. Some of the things customers do and say that Bruce thinks are humorous would annoy the shit out of me. A job dealing with the public means dealing with some decent people as well as some humongous assholes. It doesn't appear to bother Bruce, but then, when compared to his previous dealings with the public, restaurant customers probably are cupcakes to him.
Inside the apartment, he asks, "Would you like to shower first?" I go, "Nope," and pull my polo shirt over my head. He takes off his T-shirt, looks at me, then we hug and our lips meet. Ahh, so nice, so sweet, so sexy. Like last night, I sense a hunger in Bruce's kissing. Even more so than last night, actually. What a wonderful thing it is to be desired. Bruce is always mentioning new experiences he's had since leaving his previous life, but I've experienced new things as well. I've never had a boyfriend before Bruce. I've never been in love before him either, and that's been both painful and spectacular. And now to be loved as well... astonishing and phenomenal!
Our bare, slightly salty-from-the-ocean naturally hairless torsos are tight together, our arms snuggly around one another and our mouths together with our tongues licking, we're sucking lips, and kissing, kissing, kissing and it's all enchantingly mind-blowing. Gasping, our lips slide apart and we breathe deeply still clinging to one another. Another deep breath, then recalling something from earlier today, I murmur, "How do you feel about boyfriends holding hands?" Moving his head back and taking his arms from around me, he takes my hand and we start walking to the bedroom. Squeezes my hand a little, he murmurs, "I think it's a really good thing to do."
In the bedroom, letting go of my hand, he picks up the lube tube from the bedside table, kicks off his sandals, and then drops his swimsuit. As I do the same, I stare at his fantastic seven-inch penis that's stiff like mine, stiff from our makeout. Smiling at me, Bruce raises his eyebrows and nods at the floor in front of him. As I drop to my knees, I'm shivering with desire for him. His hands are lightly on my head as I lean in and lick his salty-tasting cock, lick it from the large head up the seven inches to the root and across where his pubic hairs once were. It gives me goosebumps and I shiver again.
Slowly I lick all around Bruce's cock, then the inside of his thigh, his balls against my cheek. After forgetting to breathe, I finally gasp in a lung full of oxygen, then lick his balls as I hold his penis in my fingers feeling it get harder and harder. My cock is scary hard, throbbing against Bruce's leg. He goes, "Ummm," and he runs his fingers the wrong way back through my hair. It doesn't matter, though, because my hair is so short it sticks up whichever way Bruce rubs it.
Putting his hard cock in my mouth, I moan, "Mmmm," and suck the head, my tongue trying to wrap around it while my lips are sucking the shaft, then bobbing up and down on it as precum coats my tongue and my own precum drips onto the hardwood floor just missing the throw rug I'm kneeling on. Bruce moans again, then murmurs, "Feels so good. Ummm," then gently pushes my head away, "I'm going to cum, Zach."
I get one last suck on the swollen head before it slips past my lips. Sitting back on my ankles, my cock like a brick, so hard it's not moving at all and sticking straight out, I look up to grin at Bruce. He shakes his head, grinning back, mumbling, "Wow, that was close. Haha, I almost lost it that time... it felt really good." He offers his hand, I take hold of it and he helps pull me up as I say, "I didn't think you'd be a hand-holding boyfriend." He takes the cap off the lubricant, mumbling, "Well, neither did I, but, ta-da! I like it."
Twirling his finger for me to turn around, I'm like, "Oh, yeah," and turn around, then go, "Ah!" as his slippery finger slides inside me, the tight lips of my asshole offering very little resistants. My ass recognizing a friendly finger, I guess. Ooh, that feels good, and I stroke my iron boner. Bruce rubs the pad of his finger over my prostate, murmuring, "Smooth prostate." I go, "Is that a good thing, doctor?" He says, "Very," and I hear a clunk when he drops the lube tube on the bedside table. His left arm comes around my waist as the hard swollen head of his penis very tightly slides in past my sphincter muscle. There's a flare of pain, but it's the best, sexiest pain I've ever felt.
Now his right arm is around me too and he slowly pulls me onto his prodigious boner that slides tightly inside my rectum, the large hard head opening my insides wide as it moves, inch by inch until it totally impales me and my back is tight against Bruce's chest. The pain went along for the ride, but it's a beautiful version of pain with love as its co-pilot. The trip only took two or three seconds with Bruce murmuring, "Mmmm," and then we're as close to being 'whole' as we're likely to get. He rubs the side of his face against mine, my head goes back, as I sigh and my hands hold onto his wrists. Bruce tightens the hug and humps against my buttocks as the pain fades and the most perfect feeling of blissful serenity drifts over me. It is so wonderful that Bruce wanted to do what's been a fantasy dream of mine from shortly after meeting him. Yeah, it's all the more beautiful and perfect because Bruce thought about doing this with me all afternoon.
He sighs as I feel his big sex organ get harder and more swollen inside me. Moving his hips back, his hard boner retraces its inch by inch trip inside me going back the way it came. I feel a trillion vibrations of sexual pleasure screaming for joy, making me tremble all over. When the smooth hard head of his boner is distending the lips of my anus, I hold my breath, and then it's coming back inside me again and I shudder as Bruce murmurs, "Feel good? I hope it feels as good for you as it does for me." I nod my head but can't speak as the realization of this colossal good fortune explodes in my brain... Bruce has fallen in love with me. It's enough to blow my mind.
With the side of his face nuzzling against mine, his arms tight around me, our bodies tightly together, he begins long steady thrusting and the pleasure is beyond belief. My eyes close and I go on a magic carpet ride of sexual pleasure with my lover, and, as I said, we're as close to being whole as it's possible to be. Time slows down as I drift in a sea of pleasure, Bruce's long boner moving steadily back and forth inside my body activating every nerve ending it tightly passes. I'm almost in a coma of pleasure, both of us quietly moaning, "Umm, ooh, mmm."
I've no idea how long pleasure from my rectum and my throbbing petrified boner swarm over me, wave after waves of it like the endless waves that for billions of years splash on shorelines around the earth, but probably it's less than that when my climax decides to end this enraptured experience with the six or seven-second thrill of its own known as sexual climax. Bruce's killjoy climax is on the same schedule as mine. He grunts, sounding desperate, and begins thrusting harder and faster. He makes whining sounds of desperation as the "Slap, slap, slap," sounds of him smacking into my buttocks burst on the scene and we're both going, "Ah, ah, ah..." until BOOM! a tsunami of intense pleasure erupts, my hips hump as cum blows out my rock of a cock in a blistering fraction of a second taking my ability to breathe with it.
My mouth hangs open, I tremble all over, unable for a split second to recognize the power of towering pleasure generated from that orgasm, and then the sizzling pleasure spreads out from my hard penis making my toes curl and the roots of my hair sizzle. I gasp in some oxygen and shudder as the after-effects give me another fast thrill and only now do I realize Bruce is doing some shaking of his own.
As we both come down from the stratosphere, he murmurs, "Stunning... unbelievable," then pulls me over with him to flop backward on the bed, his dick coming out of my ass along with a lot of the semen he deposited in my bowels. I'm still dizzy and shivering a little in Bruce's arms. He chuckles quietly, then mumbles, "Jesus, that was unbelievable. I mean, to me it was." I'm still taking gulping deep breaths trying to remember how to speak. Our feet are on the floor, the side of my left leg against the bedside table. He relaxes his arms around me sounding concerned, asking, "Are you okay, Zach?"
Nodding my head, I gasp, "Uh-huh, yeah. Ah, that was the best, um, it was breathtaking sex, Bruce. Spectacular." He slides me off him and we both sit up as he says, "Wow, I was in some kind of zone or something. Jeez, so this is how sex should feel?" I'm nodding again as he adds, "I felt the difference last night, ya know? Then, when you left the cafe this morning, I wanted to feel that thing from last night again, and it was even better this afternoon!" He's excited, but so am I. It's that I'm still stunned this impossible dream has come true.
Initially, Bruce was crawling very slowly at accepting his change of lifestyle, perhaps not believing it was real. Everything accelerated though when he got a real job and was good at it. He started to believe maybe he could do it, started to accept the possibilities, started believing he could be better, started letting go of his pessimistic view of life and let himself feel. I'm a realist so, while he claims he's in love with me, there's a lot of gratefulness involved for me giving him the chance and the time to realize this is really happening. Believing in himself, he finally feels good about himself for perhaps the first time in his unfortunate previous life. What I'm thinking is, maybe he's confusing gratitude for love.
Hell, I don't know. Maybe being grateful is enough of a reason to fall in love. Grateful that someone loves you when for whatever reason you didn't think anyone would. Thinking you're too fat or too unattractive or too whatever. Then you find someone who loves you in spite of that and that's reason enough to love them back. I can't even explain why I fell in love with Bruce, so I'm sure as shit not able to know why he says he's in love with me. We couldn't have come from more different backgrounds and yet we're both equally fucked up in similar ways. The 'why' of love isn't all that important anyway, it's the fact of it that's important and for whatever reason, the fact is we think we're in love. That should be enough, so we'll roll with that.
Bruce puts his arm across my shoulders, and goes, "You're so quiet, Zach. What's up?" I go, "I'm kind of, um, shellshocked I guess. That was fantastic sex, but we've got cum all over the bedspread." He laughs out loud, then goes, "Hey, I'm supposed to be the one who says that," and he jostles me, adding, "Well, you do the laundry, so I suppose you're the one who should be concerned about messing the bedspread, right?"
He is in the best fucking mood ever! I snicker, mumbling, "Yeah, sure." He jostles me again, then takes his arm away and stands, saying, "C'mon, let's take a shower, and then you need to get this 'effing bedspread in the washing machine." He laughs again and pulls me up.
During the shower, bumping into one another as we're bathing, Bruce is ecstatic about our lover's sex, excited and bubbly while I'm reverent about it, marveling at it and hardly believing Bruce made this huge leap so abruptly. I'm not doubting his sincerity, but we're processing it differently, that's all.
He says, "Ya know, I'm anxious to see how our bedtime sex goes. That's only, what? Um, four hours from now. What do you think?" I go, "Jeez, it's hard to imagine you can ever top the sex we just had." He's like, "It wasn't just me, Zach. To me, you were the biggest reason we had that fabulous sex. Totally a mutual endeavor, at the very least. Hell, before you, I never cared for sex that much... it was a friggin' job. I didn't hate it, but I could have done without ninety percent of it. Very rarely I'd have a client about my age who I thought was kinda hot. But that was very rare."
We rinse off with Bruce putting his arms around me, asking, "You're still in love with me, right?" I snort, then say, "More than ever. You never need to wonder about that." He kisses me with water getting in both our mouths, which makes him laugh again. Damn, I need to shake off my dazed-with-amazement mood and join Bruce in his excited one. Getting out of the tub, I go, "Not to get all maudlin and corny on you, Bruce, but this has been the best, most perfect afternoon of my life. I thought last night was, but this afternoon tops that."
Passing a bath towel to me he says, "Thank you for saying that 'cause I feel exactly the same way." As we walk into the bedroom, I ask, "Where are we having dinner?" He says, "I'm taking you to our restaurant, and we're going to get a little bit drunk to celebrate us." I pull on a pair of underpants trying to think which one is 'our' restaurant. He says, "You just put on my underpants." I go, "Huh?" and look down, then mutter, "Oh, sorry." He goes, "That's okay. Um, you know the restaurant I'm talking about, don't you?" I say, as a question, "The little Italian one?" He goes, "Yeah, where we've eaten together before. Near that hotel, the one we stayed at." Nodding, I go, "Uh-huh, I knew which one you meant."
When we're just about ready to leave, Cowboy and Lee burst in the front door. Lee says, "You too look all dressed up." I ask, "Where are Joe and Ricky?" Cowboy says, "Henry didn't want to come. Um, and he's sort of like Rickie, don't ya think." I go, Really?" He nods, adding, "Yeah, but Antoine isn't as bland as Joe." Bruce asks, "Who are Joe and Rickie?" Cowboy tells them and Bruce goes, "Jesus, you two had quite the time traveling from Florida." Cowboy mutters, "It was a very cool time. Zach is my hero. He helped me get past, um, well never mind that." I give him a hug, muttering, "Actually, Cowboy is the hero. Everything that developed positively for me this summer never would have happened without him."
He goes, "Yeah, he's right," and we all chuckle at Cowboy's modesty deficiency. Bruce goes, "Well, it's time for our shot and beer." Lee goes, "Oh, no..." and Cowboy is like, "Yes, let's do it, then my main man is going to send me around the world." Lee mutters, "If I don't hurl from drinking the shot."
Lee doesn't hurl, instead, he mumbles, "Gastly, but I can handle it okay now." Cowboy goes, "You da man, Lee," and we go out on the balcony to finish our beers and three of us smoke cigarettes. I'm feeling different kinds of love for these guys. Romantic love for Bruce and brotherly-type love and friendship for Cowboy and Lee. I could almost burst with happiness. Bruce said... so this is what life is like, huh?" I've said that to myself any number of times recently.
Lee, waving his hand at the cigarette smoke, says, "Cowboy told me he doesn't want to do the drag-makeup thing tonight, so we're not doing it." I'm like, "Good thinking. I was going to try talking you out of it because you'd just be inviting an altercation on the boardwalk and nobody needs that." Cowboy goes, "And I've already sort of done the makeup thing with Ricky." Lee goes, "I've heard all I need to about this Ricky asshole." Bruce asks, "Um, so why aren't those two guys having dinner here?" Shaking his head, Lee goes, "We invited them, but when they found out we live twenty minutes from their hotel, Henry said fuck it." Oh, another good development!
After Cowboy finishes his beer and then Lee's, he flicks his cigarette butt off the balcony and says, "Oh boy, now my hot boyfriend is gonna send me to the moon." Lee puts his arm around Cowboy's waist, mumbling, "Or maybe further." Cowboy winks at me, I nod my head, flick my cigarette butt, then mutter, "You better not get pregnant 'cause I don't want to try explaining that to your parents." The boys do some snickering as off they go. Bruce and I exchange eye-rolls, then he goes, "Hungry?" Nodding, I say, "Yep, I'm ready."
It's a top-down pleasant drive to the restaurant. Bruce is recalling the two other times we ate at the little Italian place. He remembers details that seemed so routine to me I've forgotten them, but they seem important to Bruce so I'm like, "Oh, yes. That's right, I remember that." Gee, he doesn't take anything for granted.
It's seven o'clock when we walk inside the restaurant and get seated right away. This is okay but it's hardly a romantic spot with the big plate glass window along the front like you see in shops; a barbershop or UPS shop, or whatever. We're seated right next to the big window looking out at the sidewalk and parking meters. Bruce doesn't seem to notice as he excitedly says, "When you first took me to a restaurant I was very uncomfortable not knowing how I should behave, you know? It wasn't something I did, but it's great eating out at real restaurants. Before, I usually ate at sub shops or pizza joints, not fancy restaurants like this." Does he think this is fancy?
An overweight Italian-looking waitress, chewing gum, comes over and drops menus on the table, saying, "Hello fellows, what can I get you to drink?" Bruce says, "We'll have Manhattan's on the rocks." She snaps her gum and goes, "I'll need IDs." I'm like, "Seriously? I haven't been carded in three years." She says the bullshit line, "I need to card anyone who doesn't appear to be at least thirty, hun." It's Bruce who she's actually carding. When I met him I thought he was nineteen.
We show our licenses, which she barely glances at, then says, "Bourbon or rye for the Manhattans?" Bruce says, "Um, huh? Oh, I know what you mean, yeah, Jim Beam." She snaps her gum and says, "We don't have Jim Beam." Bruce frowns, then looks at me, and I go, "Wild Turkey then." She says, "Coming right up, hun," and off she goes. Bruce chuckles, "Do you see what I mean? I didn't know what to say." Shrugging, I go, "Who the fuck doesn't have Jim Beam?" He goes, "It must not be an Italian bourbon." I don't know if he's serious, so I pick up the menu, asking, "What'd you say we had last time we were here?" He says, "Chicken parm. It was the first time I've ever had it, and it was delicious, but I wanna try something different."
We look at the menu and Bruce asks, "Do you know what chicken piccata is?" I nod and tell him. He goes, "We'll have that," then he goes, "Oh, sorry. Um, I shouldn't order for you and I did it with the drinks." I go, "I like you ordering for me, and chicken piccata is a good choice." He grins, "You're so nice," and we chuckle about the 'nice' thing. He goes, "Let's get a starter," and he reads the menu, then he says, "Haha, Italian wedding soup. Is that too suggestive?" He likes chicken dishes obviously. I go, "Nope, it's just right. Basically chicken broth with round dumplings."
Our drinks arrive, Bruce orders two more and we give the gum-chewing waitress our order. She says, "You boys are easy. You both get the same thing, huh?" Bruce goes, "Just a coincidence," and, not really giving a shit, off she goes. Bruce lifts his glass, and says, "Thank you, Zach." I tap his glass saying, "Ditto, Bruce." Manhattans are basically all liquor, they're just bourbon and sweet vermouth with a cherry. This is a good one too, but small. Good thing Bruce ordered another.''
Bruce talks about buying the cafe and I slide in some facts I learned online, such as the unfortunate truth that sixty percent of new restaurants fail within the first year, of those that make it past the first year, eighty percent of those fail within five years, then reselling a failed restaurant isn't an easy thing to do. Finished our second Manhattans, Bruce goes, "That's startling. I had no idea. So, what are we going to do?" I tell him about my old man's varied businesses and about JoJo running them, and finish with, "And JoJo is my Godfather who thinks I walk on water." Bruce goes, "Okay then, we've got options. To hell with my cafe idea." I go, "No, it was a good idea, but risky." He goes, "There you go again, not embarrassing me... always being nice."
When our soup is served Bruce says, "We'll have a glass of, um, Italian wine with our entrees, please." She asks, "Which one?" Bruce looks at me and, wanting to keep the cost down since Bruce wants to pay, I go, "Ruffino Chanti Classico." She nods and scribbles something on her little pad, mumbling, "Good choice," and off she goes. If I ordered Mateus she would have said the same thing.
The soup is very good, then so is the chicken piccata! This place lacks a romantic atmosphere, but it has something better, an excellent chef. For dessert, we have cannolis with sweet ricotta cheese and pistachios. We're both very pleased with the dinner, and it cost less than eighty dollars including a tip. It's eight-thirty when we get back from the restaurant, both of us looking for a nightcap. No, not that kind of nightcap... the one we'll have in bed.
To be continued... donnymumford@outlook.com.
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