June
Kevin
As they walked along, Kevin told Mark things that he had never told anyone. To have a gay man to listen to him gave Kevin his first real chance to release stuff he had bottled up.
“I’m not boring you with all this?” Kevin asked.
“Not at all. Shep never suspected you had the hots for him?”
“I sure as hell hope not. If I thought he knew, I don’t know if I could face him. I was the son he never had and …”
“You think it would disappoint him? If he cares for you it might not matter at all.”
“Not on the East Coast.” Kevin didn’t have the words to explain his fear.
“You have a big little world in front of you.”
They stopped at street lights and Mark waved to a couple of guys on the opposite corner.
“This bed and breakfast is pretty decent.” Mark stopped at a large, three-story, red-brick house with an extensive front garden. “The Inn Ing is owned by Miss Ing Thing. You might have missed the dozens of posters we passed for her big show tonight.”
“Missing thing?”
“Robert Ing. Miss – Ing – Thing. A stage name. Big money from the Pacific Rim or some such. She’s not a bad sort. I’ll wait here.” Mark sat on a bench under a tree in the garden.
The steps were a little tacky from a recent coat of deep green paint. He rang the bell. The door wasn’t locked. He pushed it open.
“Hello?” He called out to be heard over the clamour of dance music and television chatter.
“In here.” A voice came from a side room. “I hope you’ve brought the …” An Asian man on a chair caught sight of him. “Well, sweetness, what can I do for you?”
The man wore a ballooning blue satin dress that reminded Kevin of Gone With the Wind. Another man knelt with a glue gun to fasten fabric roses to the hem.
“I was … uh … looking for a room.”
“Honey, you are in luck.” The man in the dress hopped down with a firm grip on the hoop hem to keep it off the ground. “I ordinarily wear a pair of eighty-three inch platforms to keep this from trailing. We kicked out an American couple this morning. This place is strictly no smoking. They knew that when we booked them and they can complain to all the fucking embassies they want. I will not have smoking in my house. Even I have to go outside to smoke. You don’t smoke do you? One look at that skin of yours tells me you don’t. You don’t shave yet either do you. Ha ha. A little joke. My, but you are young. Do your parents know you’re here? Do you have a note from Gramma? Will that be cash? I’m a little bit wired, as they say, for more than sound. Clark!” He took a breath. “I’m Robert Ing, your host and hostess. Clark! Where is he? Bad help is hard to find. Oh right, he’s clearing out after those ugly Americans. Philip, be a dear. Put that gun down and register this young man. You are in luck, as we were totally booked till I had to single-handedly toss those Yanks out.”
“Uh … thank you …” Kevin slipped off his runner and took out his credit card.
“Dad know you have this?” Robert passed the card through the scanner. “Just for tonight?”
“It’s mine! And yes, just for tonight.”
“A young man of means. You’ll go far. Philip, see if 224 is ready. It has a darling view of the back yard. We’ll be having drinks out there around six tonight, if you’d care to join us. Please do. There’s nothing like a fresh face to set off a garden party. You’ll get an exclusive sneak peek at my costumes for the parade tomorrow.”
Philip took Kevin up to the room. It was simple, spare and crisp. Shades of blue. A big bed, a tiny dresser and washroom. Kevin dropped his backpack on the bed, splashed water on his face, locked the door and went downstairs. To his relief, Mark was still outside.
“Must be a mad house in there. Robert sees herself as the unofficial Queen of Toronto. Ignoring the fact that there are several other pretenders to that throne.”
“Yes he .. I mean she … did seem … wired for more than sound.”
Mark’s apartment was compact. It had little mottoes over the light switches. On the fridge one read “HALT: Are You Too Horny Angry Lonely or Tired?”
Mark handed him a beer and had a can of pop can for himself.
“I’m merely horny.” Mark laughed.
“I’m not taking your last one?”
“I … uh … don’t drink. No booze, no drugs. You don’t mind.”
“Why would I mind?”
“Many guys are more interested in drugs.”
Kevin sat on the sofa. “Not this guy.”
“I keep beer in the fridge just to offer … like … asking someone up for a beer makes more sense than, say, asking them up for a diet coke.” Mark sat beside him and put his pop on the coffee table.
Kevin put his beer next to it and draped his arms across the back of the couch and let his knees fall apart. Mark ran his hand along Kevin’s thigh. Kevin put his hand on Mark’s head and brought their mouths together.
He kissed a man for the first time. A man who kissed him back, wanted him. One of Kevin’s fears was that men would have no interest in his body and would use him to get themselves off. Men who did that weren’t really queers.
His tongue darted in Mark’s mouth as Mark’s tongue did the same in his. He liked the way Mark’s hands moved over his body, rolled his t-shirt up, opened his belt buckle, unzipped his fly and touched his pubic hair then cock.
He tried to mirror what Mark did. Their quick frantic movements came to a stop once Mark’s mouth found his cock. Kevin slumped to allow more of his cock to fill Mark’s mouth. His leg jerked and kicked the coffee table. Drinks spilt to the floor.
“Shit!” He tried to get up.
“Don’t worry I’ve cleaned up worse spills, and if this is really your first blow job, I want to enjoy every drop.”
Mark pushed him back and worked Kevin’s shorts and underwear down. Kevin pushed his runners off and got out of his shorts.
Mark slid to the floor and made Kevin lie on the couch. He parted Kevin’s legs and licked his balls before he returned to suck. With one hand Mark played with himself. The other he slipped under to tease Kevin’s butt.
Kevin breathed in gulps, rubbed Mark’s shoulders as he rocked into his mouth. As Mark’s thumb twitched his butt, he tried to drive it in while he drove his cock deeper into Mark’s throat.
Kevin was lifted out of himself, of his sense of who he was. His come rocketed into Mark’s mouth.
Mark didn’t move away as he tried to swallow it. He took his mouth away and spat some of the come into his hand, smeared it on to his own cock. He leaned back to jerk till small beads of sperm appeared on the head.
“Whew!” Mark slumped. “That’s what I call taking a load off.”
Kevin merged with the sofa, heavy and light at the same time. He dropped one hand down to cup the Mark’s calf. “Wow! That was …”
Mark stood, kissed Kevin. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
A man, this man, had touched him, had wanted him sexually, had accepted him sexually, and he wanted to thank him, to love him.
“I better get this cleaned up.”
“Don’t bother. You run along. Maybe we’ll run into each other over the weekend.”
Kevin put his clothes on. Had he done something wrong?
Mark went to door. “That was great. You got a nice cock. We’ll have to do this again sometime. Don’t forget I know where you’re staying.” He opened the door. “The elevator is around that corner.” He kissed Kevin on the mouth. Kevin held him. Mark pushed away. “Now scoot and have a great weekend.”
Kevin didn’t remember what Mark’s cock looked like, what it felt like. His own was sticky in his underwear. On the way down he hoped the sinking sensation was the elevator.
David
David had to flush twice to get the condom to disappear. When he had followed his impulse to invite Yves up for sex, he didn’t intend it go so far. When he saw Mark with the young man who had stopped his heart at Rainbow Books, it caught him off guard. He was familiar enough with Mark’s sexual habits to be certain they weren’t together to take the air.
Aware of Mark’s yen for Yves, David jumped at the chance to bed him. Now he had to let Mark know. What was the point if the person one wanted to suffer didn’t know?
Once the condom was gone, David stepped into the shower. He was grateful that Yves had his own life to attend to. Once they had finished there was no awkward ruse to get him out of the apartment.
The touch of Yves’ hands on his flesh was something he had never experienced before. Warm and cool at the same time, with an energy that penetrated him right to the bone. He wanted to rest wrapped in Yves arms for hours.
As he rubbed the soap over his body, he tingled where Yves’ hands had been. If it weren’t for those hands, he wouldn’t have let Yves fuck him. Yves had the perfect cock for that though. Smallish head wrapped tight in foreskin atop a thick solid shaft. That smallness made the initial entry easier.
He soaped his butt and relished the memory, and anticipated when he could recount it to Mark. They’d have to have coffee soon.
Out of the shower, he walked to the living room as he dried, his naked body in full view of anyone in the opposite apartment complex who happened to look. The buzzer rang.
“Who is it?”
“Who do you think, darling, Pizza Palace?”
“Robert?”
“Right first try. I’m here for my final fitting.”
“You are early.”
“I know. I know. I can’t wait.”
David buzzed him in. He put on loose linen pants and a clean t-shirt. The dress was done enough for Robert. There was no such thing as finished, but it was ready to wear.
A quick rap and he opened the door. Robert flew in.
“I couldn’t wait. The big blue-balls gown is wonderful. I should have used steel for the hoops. The rosettes make it hard to take your eyes off it. David, they were a stroke of genius.”
“Who sewed them on for you?”
“Honey, no one but you can stitch my garments. I had Philip glue them on. Hot glue gun for the last three hours. His poor little fingers have no prints left.”
David grimaced at the vision of glue on his gown. That wouldn’t happen with this one. He lifted off the black crepe draped over it.
“Ta da.”
“Oh David!” Robert sat stunned on the arm of the couch. “It is really too too much. The collar, those fucking beads.”
“Whiskers on kittens?”
“Doll, you have outdone yourself this time. I was afraid all your wonderful energy was going to Miss Seizure.” Miss Seizure was Robert’s affectionate name for his favourite rival, Tisu Trauma. He said it with the remorseless hiss of a cat about to bite.
“How did …” David was ashamed that Robert knew he had worked for the enemy.
“She couldn’t wait to tell me. Don’t worry babe, as long as you whip up your most scrumptious creations for me, I don’t give a flying fuck what Seizure wears.” As he undressed, Robert inched toward the corner that held Tisu’s shrouded gown.
“Careful.” David steered him away. “You don’t want to get claw marks on that without an audience, do you?”
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License
TOpoet 