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Russian Lolitas

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Related article: Eleven-and-a-half: A Fantasy Of Great Length by Ray WilderChapter 34: FlashbackThis is a work of fiction. All the characters, events and locations portrayed in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to real persons, events or locations is purely coincidental.Copyright � 1996. All rights, implicit or implied, except for distribution by this archive and personal use by the individual downloading the file, are reserved. Inquiries regarding publishing rights for this book should be directed to: raywildaol.com======================================== Arnold's eyes flashed open and he turned his head in the direction of the voice. "Ed!" He was so happy to see the other boy he grabbed him in a hug and kissed him quickly on the cheek. "I guess the trains don't run very frequently from here." "Five have left since I got here." "You need money for a ticket?" "Got one." "Did you leave something in the car?" "Got it all right here." "Need a place to crash tonight?" "You could say that. Thanks." The two boys sat there and looked at each other until the train arrived. They grabbed their gear and hopped on, deciding to ride on the upper level so they could see better. Ed had been into the city on several occasions and was able to inform Arnold of the various major landmarks. He even showed him where he thought his friends would be living. All during the trip not a single mention was made of Ed's change of heart or Russian Lolitas his reconsideration of his position. When they arrived downtown Arnold called the people he was to stay with. A bright, musical voice, filled with joy, answered the phone. "Hello?" "Is this Mary?" "Yes?" "This is Arnold." "Hi. Welcome to town. Where are you?" "I'm down town at the train station." "Which one?" "Which one? I don't know. There's more than one?" "Small town boy, huh? Where did you come in from?" Arnold told her the name of the place the Patterson's lived. "David's office isn't too far from there. He's working late tonight. I'll give him a call and let him know you're there. Call me back in about Russian Lolitas five minutes and I'll tell you what to do." "Thanks. Oh, by the way, I've got a friend with me. . ." "Sure, bring 'em along." "Uh, yeah. Right. Thanks. I'll call you back in fifteen. Bye." "Bye. Stay out of trouble down there." She hung up. "What'd she say?" "I have to call her back in five minutes." "I mean about me." "Oh, she said to bring you along. She sounded like she was expecting it." "Thanks for asking. I just got this image of me sitting around the lobby of the "Y" with a bunch of tired old men while you were pumping it up with a bunch of sexy people and thought 'why should he have all the fun?'" "Are you interested in getting into body building? You've got a real good start, some great natural attributes." "Thanks. Your natural attributes are pretty impressive, too." "I'm not talking about our cocks. You should get into a gym and work that body of yours. You'd be looking very, very good in just a few months." "Speaking of looking good, what was going on in that car back at the train station? She looked very good." "That was Suzanne Patterson. They've got a big house with a basement full of exercise equipment. I mean the real stuff. Industrial strength. Suzanne took me down and I got to try out a little of it." "Looks like she got to try out a little of you, too. I would have figured you finished for the day after that little reception we got at the filling station." "I thought the same thing. In fact, we hit it off real bad when I first arrived. After a little while, though, something clicked between us." "What happened. You gonna tell me what the two of you did? I still want to know what happened in that motel room last night with those two people you talked about." "I don't tell stories out of school. Maybe you'll read about it in my memoirs." "You gonna write a book? Man. I bet it would be so hot they wouldn't even let it into my town. Lemme know when you get around to writing it. I'll read it to check it for accuracy. Just don't forget to change my name." "Why? You ashamed of me?" "No. I just don't want my ol' man comin' around and kickin' my ass again." "Ed, I'm not a violent person, but have you ever considered standing up to your father?" "You mean fightin' back?" "Yeah, if it came to that." "Nope. Never thought about it. How can you hit your ol' man?" "How can he hit his son?" "Huh? Yeah. Right." "If he's not going to treat Russian Lolitas you like his son, why should you treat him like your father. Besides, your legal now. He can't touch you. You're free." "Free. . ." The concept churned around in his brain and the sudden feeling of liberation made him jump for joy. He whooped and hollered, punched a couple of public lockers, slightly denting one of the doors, grabbed an old drunk who was walking by and started to dance with him (the old man seemed more suited for a slow waltz than Ed's jubilant celebration dance, but enjoyed the sudden burst of spontaneity, even asking Ed for some spare change which Ed promptly gave him), and then grabbed Arnold and gave him a big hug. Arnold held him away at arm's length, looked straight into his eyes and said, "Don't tell me you've never considered being rid of your father." "It never occurred to me. He's my pa." "For the last three years, that's all I ever thought of. I couldn't wait until I graduated from school so I could leave home. I dreamed of being rid of him." "Yeah. I dreamed of that, too. But he's still your pa. He didn't die, did he?" "Nope. I'm just through with him, that's all." "Well, now me, too." He looked around the train station and noticed a couple of women sitting on a bench in the waiting area. "Hey, Arnie. Looks like we're attracting some attention. Over there." "Yeah, no thanks to your giving dancing lessons to winos. Perhaps their fathers own stock in a locker company." "Well, now they know we know that they know. Looks like they're coming over." "Probably undercover cops. You're busted, man." The two boys waited as the women approached them. Something told Arnold they were not there just for a social visit. He told Ed this. "Hookers?" "I don't know, Ed. They look pretty business like. I'm not in the mood for another encounter. Don't encourage them, okay?" "I'm kind of drained, myself. Tell 'em we're lovers." Arnold shot Ed a look of surprise, but figured that, should the need arise, he wouldn't be telling a lie. The women finally closed the gap between them and the closer one, a blond with very expensive clothing and a bit too much make-up, spoke first. "You two good-looking studs have something to celebrate?" Ed nudged Arnold into response. "Just happy to be here, ma'am. We've had a long trip." "Where you boys in from?" "Down south." "Out west," they responded simultaneously. "Can't decide?" "Not the case, ma'am. I'm from out west, he's from down south." Arnold thought he'd take the advantage by asking the next question. "Are you from around here?" "Not originally, no." "My name's Arnold. What's yours?" "Megan." "And your friend?" "Clara." "Are you waiting for a train?" "No, we're the welcome wagon," she said, sarcasm dripping in her voice. As the boys had thought. Arnold talked fast to keep the ball in his court. "You waiting for someone to arrive?" "Yeah, you two." Whoops. Quick. Change the subject. "I guess you see a lot of people come through here, huh?" "Uh, yeah, it's Russian Lolitas a busy place." "I'm kind of partial to people watching myself. I like to just kick back and let the crowd flow by, trying to guess what different people are doing. Why they're going the direction they're going. What they want from the people they're talking to." The last was said pointedly. "What are you? Some kind of shrink?" "No, Megan. I'm just a new arrival in town talking to a couple of friendly folks who bothered to come over and chat with us while I wait to call my friend back. By the way. Sorry to be so rude. This is my friend, Ed. Ed, this is Megan and this is Clara." "Howdy, Megan. Howdy Clara. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. It sure is a lovely train station you have here." "Yeah, just peachy. You boy's going to a special school or something?" "No ma'am. Both of us just graduated from high school. I have no immediate plans for further education, myself. What about you, Ed?" "Gosh, Arnie. I hadn't really considered the possibility. Perhaps a couple of months here in the city will present some career opportunities from which I might choose." Megan looked suspiciously back and forth between the two young men. Clara, behind her, was having trouble stifling a laugh. The two boys looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders innocently. "What the hell's going on here? You two a comedy act or something?" "No ma'am. I'm just a new arrival in. . ." "Jesus, Mary and Joseph. C'mon, Clara. Let's leave these two bozos alone. You got a real good act, Arnold. If you didn't want to talk to us in the first place, you could have just said so." "And if I had, would you have believed me? Besides, I don't mind talking to you, at all. I just wanted to avoid any further arrangements. I tried to do that without offending you. I'm sorry if we wasted your time." Clara moved in to her friend's side and took her arm. "Chill out, Megan. I'd say that, considering the way most people treat us, these two boys have been down right nice to us. You two boys okay? You need any help?" "We have to call our friend back in a minute or two and find out where to meet him. Thanks for the offer, though." "Well, if there's anything we can do, just let us know. And it looks to me like you two can do a lot." "Next time we're in town. . ." The two women strolled to the front of the station and rode the escalator down and out of sight. Arnold turned back to the phone, dropped another quarter in and dialed Mary's number again. It was busy. "You handled that pretty good, Arnie. That was really smooth." "I just didn't want to hurt their feelings. I know most people look at me and see sex. Sometimes it's fun, sometimes it's a problem, sometimes it hurts. I just wanted to let them know I didn't see them the same way. Line's busy. Mary must still be talking to David." "What do your friends do?" "Mary designs clothes. David's into some kind of environmental stuff; I don't know. But they both compete on the amateur level. Singles and couples." "What does that mean?" "Amateur is their standing, they don't win any money. Singles is singles. Couples means they pose together." "You mean they get on stage and flex their muscles and stuff?" "Haven't you ever seen a body building contest?" "I saw one of them on the sports channel. Those guys were big. I even saw some ladies. They were big, too." "Well, that's what Mary and David do, only together." "Man, if I was on stage with someone that looked as good as some of those folks I'd have to wear a cast iron jock to keep my hard-on down." "I know what you mean. I'm not sure how they do it. I get pretty turned on when I see a good looking body, too. I guess you just get used to having lots of muscles and sexy people around and then it doesn't bother you anymore. I gotta tell ya, tho', I'd hate to get to the point where I wasn't interested enough to not get an erection. There's nothing better than a couple of armfuls of rock hard muscle." "Arnie, shut-up. I'm starting to get uncomfortable here." "What's the matter? You leave your cast iron jock strap at home?" "Very funny. See how you like it, having to walk around town with a guy who has a boner sticking out. You've got a pair of pants on. I've only got these gym shorts. With nothing on underneath." "Why don't you duck into the men's room and slip into something a little less comfortable. I'll try Mary again." "Great. Watch my stuff." He dove into his bag, grabbed a pair of jeans and headed for the opposite side of the lobby. Arnold tried the number again and got through. "Hi, Mary. It's Arnold again." "Hi. I just got off the phone with David. He says he's just about wrapped things up there and Russian Lolitas he can meet you in front of the station in fifteen minutes. Where are you now?" "We're on the level with all the trains." "Great. Take the escalator down to the street level. Wait Russian Lolitas directly out side, in front of the building. David will pull up in front. Do you have much luggage?" "We've each got a bag and a knapsack. Is the car small?" "I don't think there'll be a problem. He's got the big car. Just get out front and David will be there, okay?" "Great. Thanks. For everything." "Sure. Oh, by the way. Sam says hi." Arnold was stunned. The reference to Sam was as powerful as if she had just come up the escalator before him. "Arnold? Hello?" "Ah, thanks. When did you talk to her?" "She called the night before last. She wanted to know if you'd gotten in yet." "Where is she?" "Home." "Home." "Out west. We've talked a lot about you." "She's a very special person." "She says the same about you. What's your friend's name? " "Ed." "Ed. Great. I'm looking forward to meeting you both." "Likewise. This is very kind of you." "Sam's recommendation goes far with us. Now you'd better get out front so you don't miss David. I'll see you soon, okay?" "Okay. Bye." He hung up. His head felt light. Sam. Damn, he was going to cry. He missed her so. He wanted her so. He sniffed back a tear and opened the pouch of his knapsack to put his telephone book back and saw the envelope the Patterson's had given him. He ripped it open and nearly choked. Inside were three one-hundred dollar bills. For unloading a car? These folks were loaded. Had she known what would transpire that afternoon? Of course, the other possibility was that Suzanne had increased the value of the contents when she went in to get the envelope. Arnold thought about the two women they had talked to earlier. Twice, today, Arnold had received payment for sexual favors. Gas and a car wash and a big tip. He wasn't exactly sure he was happy about it. But three hundred dollars was three hundred dollars. He stashed the money in his wallet and put it back in his knapsack. Ed was just heading out of the men's room with the strangest look on his face. He kind of ambled across the wide floor and when he got to Arnold he just stood there, staring at him. "What's up, Ed?" "You're not going to believe what happened in that men's room, there." "What do you mean?" "I went into one of the stalls to change my pants and no sooner do I get my shorts off then I notice a hole in the divider between my stall and the next one over. And sticking out of that hole is a Russian Lolitas big, fat cock." "What?" "No shit. Some guy in the next stall is poking his dong through the hole. I just stared at it for a moment and then I hear this voice. 'You gonna suck it or not?' he says. I didn't know what to say. I said, 'No, thanks.' Then he says 'All right, stick yours through and let me.' Just like that. Doesn't know who I am, I don't know him and he's telling me to stick my cock through a hole in the shithouse wall." "And?" "He was real good." "You did it?" "Yeah. I mean, hell. How could I pass up an offer like that?" "He could have had a knife or something." "I hadn't thought of that. Holy Shit. Man. That was a dumb thing to do, wasn't it?" "Not what I would have done." "Well, he trusted me. He had his dick through the hole first. Big one, too. Fat. Yours wouldn't have fit." "Well, I'm glad I've got an excuse. David's going to meet us outside in a couple of minutes. Grab your gear and let's hit the road." The two boys gathered up their belongings and headed down the escalator. "Who was this guy, anyway?" "Don't know. Never saw him. By the time I got my pants on he had split. You see anyone come out of there just before me?" "I wasn't watching. I was, ah, preoccupied. On the phone." "Kind of kinky, actually. A hole, a mouth, a blow-job. Just about the best one I've ever had. Second best one, today." "Fill'er up!" "Check the oil." "Need a lube job, mister?" "Check under the hood." "Looks like you're inflated properly." "Nice dip stick, buddy." "I bet you say that to all the boys." "Only if their stick dips low enough." "This is getting stupid." "You started it." "Oh, sure. It's all my Russian Lolitas fault." "Yup." "Fine. Be that way. See if I invite you along next time I go to the gas station. Humph!" "Humph?" "Humph!" "Well, humph to you!" "And double-humph to you, too!" "And triple. . ." "Okay, you win. Sheesh. Can't even humph a guy anymore without having to take a self-defense course. Mary said to wait out front for David. I forgot to ask how we'll recognize him." "You mean you don't know these people?" "Nope. They're friends of a friend. I told you that." "Yeah, but I thought you'd met theses folks before. I mean, they're giving you a place to stay, letting you bring home a perfect stranger. Trusting folks." "You don't know my friend. I guess if she says I'm all right, then I'm all right." "Yeah, but what about me?" "What about you? I obviously have great taste." "Thanks." "Don't mention it. Just don't embarrass me by knocking any holes in the bathroom wall, okay?" "I'll try and control myself." The street in front of the train station was a one way, so Arnold started looking off for a car he thought might be David's. After a few minutes he realized how stupid that was; he didn't have the slightest idea what he would be looking for, and so he turned back to Ed who had been very quiet. "Arnie?" "Yeah, Ed?" "What kind of place is this we're going to?" "All I know is that they have an apartment in the basement of their house. It has it's own entrance and phone and bathroom and kitchen and stuff. I think there must be a stairs that goes down there because they use it as a rec room when it's not occupied." "You know how many bedrooms it's got?" "Nope. You worried about something?" "Not worried. Just wondering. I'm not a very good sofa sleeper. Hell, the truth is, I don't sleep very well alone." "What did you do at home?" "I shared a bed with my little brother." "You got a brother?" "I got. . . had. . . three brothers and two sister." "Had?" "Yeah." "Sorry. Big family." "Small house. We'd curl up together. It was kind of like sleeping with a teddy bear that wet the bed." "That must have been a pain in the butt." "I got real good at waking up and moving real quick. Actually, I had to sleep with him. It was the only thing that kept my ol' man from killing him. Or so I thought." "What's he gonna do, now that you're gone?" "He doesn't have to worry about that anymore." "What do you mean, Ed?" "He died about a month ago. Pa says I let him crawl out the bedroom window. There was a screen on Russian Lolitas the bedroom window. Someone big pushed that screen out." "Oh, shit. Ed. Oh, man. Oh, God. Why didn't you tell me this before?" "Christ, Arnie. When? How? Why? You pick me up and drive me here, offer me hope, have sex with me, and then I run away from it all. You got enough problems Russian Lolitas of your own. You don't need mine, too." Arnold grabbed Ed's shoulders and shook him severely. He forced him to look straight into his eyes Russian Lolitas and said, "Ed, you need me. That's not a brag. You need me. Or someone. You need love. I'm here. I'll help. We're going to both get real strong and healthy here. If you need to sleep with me, then sleep with me. If you need love, I'll give it to you. Sex? No problem. We're going to help each other here. You got that? Together. Right?" "What the fuck, Arnie? What the hell's going on here? Who are you? What are you, man? You scare me, you know that? What am I supposed to do? I can't go home, I don't want to be alone, I'm scared, but I don't know where else to go." "What are you afraid of?" "You!" "Me?" "Yeah. You. Your head is in a different place, Arnie. You got this. . . this. . . thing. You make it all look so different. I'm used to corn. Corn grows up, you cut it, eat it, feed it to the cows, sell it, plant it, it grows up and you cut it again. That's all I know. I get with you and suddenly there's all this other shit. Feelings. Powerful feelings. You make me look where I don't want to. I didn't want to talk about my brother. I didn't want to tell you. But how could I not? You ask, I talk. You care, I talk. You give, I take. I've never had that before. I don't know what the rules are here." Arnold looked into Ed's eyes. He waited. Nothing he could say was going to answer Ed's questions. Only Ed was going to be able to see how this was all tied together. He let the other boy sort things out as he formulated his thoughts. "I guess I'm just used to a different kind of people. Corn people. They're used to being cut down. They're used to being ground up. Just don't think about it. We'll plant a new crop next year and it'll all be better. Nothing exists past this year's harvest. In fact, nothing exists but this year's harvest. Don't get to like it too much 'cause you're just going to have to cut it down. Love don't pay the bills, corn does. Love just makes babies and that's good if they'll help with the harvest, but they grow up and move away and that don't bring the corn into the silo, so don't love them, either. And if you can't afford the baby, you hate it. You don't love the baby 'cause maybe you have to drop it out the bedroom window one night when you get drunk enough so you can convince yourself you don't remember the next morning." Ed was really crying, now. The words were just pouring out of his head and all kinds of thoughts and memories that hadn't added up before were starting to come together and the answers he was seeing were really scaring him. "Why are you making me think all these things, Arnie? Why can't I just come here to the city, get a blow-job in a men's room, live in the "Y" and earn some spare change with my dick? Why, all of a sudden, why does that seem like such a dumb thing to do? I've been dreaming about doing this for years. I had it all figured out. And then I get in the car with you, your big dick making mine seem so small, and all of a sudden the whole world doesn't want my dick, 'cuz it's only nine inches long. Now I have to try something else. Now I have to think. What the fuck you have to go and make me think for, Arnie. My dick was plenty big until you came along. Fuck you. And your big dick. Fuckin' freak. Your fuckin' donkey dick and your fuckin' muscles and your fuckin' gorgeous face and your fuckin' weird head. What the fuck am I supposed to do now, huh?" Arnold tried very hard not to be hurt by what Ed was saying. He tried to remember what the boy was going through, what he was trying to figure out. It all seemed like such a good idea at the time. Just grab the kid's collar, pull him up out of the sea he was drowning in and throw a nice, heavy blanket of compassion over him. The rest would work itself out. But the drowning man doesn't always want to be saved. Maybe, when the water is pouring down his throat and the end seems too real, a life raft looks like a real good idea. But after he's out of the water, shivering and coughing, he still has to deal with the reason he jumped overboard in the first place. Arnold tried to reason all that, but he couldn't get over the feeling of being kicked in the nuts when Ed started calling him names. A freak. Was he right? A sexual oddity? A toy to be bought, played with, thrown away? Is that what Sam had done? Is that what Mr. Ridell had done? Certainly that was what his parents had done. Had he been bought by the Patterson's? What about Jennifer at the gas station? No doubt about it. She had gotten her big dick, he had gotten a free tank of gas. His whole world began to cave in on him. He wanted to hit Ed, hard. He wanted to ram his fist down the boy's throat. He thought about the power in his huge arms. One blow from that piston of muscle, sinew, and bone would bust the other boy's head right open. He felt his fist clench. He felt the bicep flex and the muscles around his shoulder blade contract as he cocked his arm back for the blow. His teeth were gritted so hard his jaw was trembling. All around his field of vision, the world turned blood red. His sight narrowed down to a spot on the side of Ed's head, just below the cheekbone. He watched as fear spread slowly over Ed's face as he realized what was about to happen. Fear. . . and something else. A resignation. He had jumped into the ocean, had been saved, against his will, and now was about to have the whole thing taken care of for him. Ed's whole body suddenly went slack. He stood there and watched as the huge arm rocketed towards his head. He didn't duck, he didn't try to avoid the collision which he knew would kill him. This was the fate he had been programmed to accept. If his father couldn't push him out of the bedroom window, then maybe this powerful rocket of muscle could. Time dilated. The next three-tenths of a second seemed to take about a minute. Never before had Ed been able to study an event with such attention to detail. He was especially attracted to the small scar on the ring finger of the fist that was slowly moving towards him. He tried to guess where that had come from. It seemed such an odd place for a scar, on the top of the ring finger. Almost as though someone had drawn a knife across the finger in an attempt to cut it off. He remembered the rest of Arnold's body as he had seen it back at the filling station. It had been perfect. Not a mark on it. No blemishes, no stitches, no scrapes or cuts. So why did he have this one scar on this one finger. He waited until the fist was closer to his face, and then gave the scar another look. It cut straight across the top of the knuckle, perpendicular to the finger, and then made a slight jag toward the fingertip, as though it had been done in haste, the blade pulling away at the last minute before completing the amputation. Someone had tried to cut his finger off. Now who the hell would do that to someone as nice as the guy who was about to ram his fist through the side of his head because he had said so many cruel, unbearable things to him when the guy had only been trying to help oh my God what have I done I've gone and fucked up the only thing that was good about today about the rest of my life and now I have to make this guy so pissed at me that he can't do anything else but bust my head wide open with his fist and I remember him telling me that he wasn't a violent person and here he is being violent and I guess I did that too and he'll have to live the rest of his life knowing what he did to me even though it wasn't his fault. "SORRY!" The fist flew past the side of Ed's head, grazing the cheekbone and scraping the ear. He heard what sounded like a sonic boom as Arnold released all his tension in a loud, ear-shattering roar. The momentum of his thrown punch carried his body into Ed's and the two boys collided. Arnold flung both his arms around Ed, both to regain his balance and because he couldn't think of anything else to do except hug the boy. They were both crying very hard, now, and several passersby had stopped to witness the unusual event. The physical part of the confrontation had happened so quickly (to them) they were completely unaware how close they had come to witnessing a homicide. To them, they just saw these two boys yelling at each other and then one of them threw his arms around the other and they cried and made up. Ed had no idea of the perplexity of Arnold's thoughts just prior to the attack. As far as he knew, at least at this moment, everything was all better. But Arnold now had to get through some tough thinking. He had proven to himself that his life was wrong, that he was wrong, that everything he had turned his beliefs to was wrong. It would take hours of intense thought and concentration to put things back in perspective again. The most immediate item Arnold had to work out was Ed. No matter what had prompted him to say those things to him, he had said them. They would not be easily undone. Arnold would wait until they reached the apartment, but he felt he had to deal with these things as soon as possible. "Arnold?" He pulled himself off of Ed and turned around. Standing before him was a man in a very expensive suit. His face was all sharp angles and taut skin; his neck thick and muscular, sloping down and out to wide shoulders ending in huge, round deltoids. Apparently the suit was specially tailored to fit his huge body because, although his arms and chest were heavily muscled, the jacket fell smoothly down over the massive contours of his physique. His eyes were deep, rich, brown pools, eagerly taking in the scene around him. He swept his gaze over Arnold and Ed and, although it didn't take a genius to figure out that something was very wrong here as both boys were crying, he was able to discern that a very important cusp had been attained seconds before his arrival. He discerned that, although the other boy seemed the one in need of long term support, it was the one he had identified as Arnold from his friend, Sam's, incredibly accurate and detailed description as being the one in immediate need of nurturing. The boy was devastated. He wrapped his own huge arms around Arnold's chest and hugged him powerfully. He then put his mouth next to Arnold's ear and whispered into it, "Sam misses you very much." Arnold didn't know what to do. He was now completely confused, but the confusion served to defuse the focus on his own doubts. He let the tensions in his body go and rested his weight against the warm, powerful man whose arms were enfolding his soul. David looked over Arnold's shoulder to the other boy. "I'm David. You must be Arnold's friend." "Not so sure about that, right now. My name's Ed. I think we need to get off the street." "My car's over at the curb. You want to throw your stuff in the trunk? I'll get our friend into the car." Ed picked up the bags that had been strewn around the sidewalk during their confrontation and carried them to the back of the car. David walked with his arm around Arnold to the passenger side and opened the front door. Arnold sat down on the seat and David flipped open the glove compartment and pushed a button that opened the trunk. He helped Ed find room to put the bags in; the trunk was filled with books and papers and folders and a gym bag and several free weights and magazines and stacks of photos. The photos were of David and a woman, both of them in posing outfits. Their bodies were oiled and tanned and ripped with veins and muscles. Ed took one of the photos and studied it carefully. Even in his agitated state, he couldn't help but be attracted by the pure sexual power of the two people in the photograph. The front of David's posing trunks showed him to be very well-hung. The woman, whom Ed assumed to be Mary, was equally as well-built, her breasts hard and firm and round, barely contained by the top she had Russian Lolitas on. They both were holding the same pose, their muscles detailed as though someone had carved them in marble, using the opportunity to make each curve and bulge and shape as sexually attractive as possible. He glanced back at the man standing next to him. This was him. This man standing beside him was the huge, incredible hunk of sex in the picture. David was mildly amused at Ed's reaction, his dropped-jaw stare, his obvious physical attraction to David and Mary's body. He was used to it, even enjoyed it; the youth was attractive and had an untamed sexuality that promised great power and intensity if properly channeled. But in the mean time, there was a serious something that needed tending to. David had felt it the moment Arnold had fallen into his arms. Critical damage had been done here and both these boys were going to need serious nurturing in a hurry before the wound was allowed to fester and become irreparable. "You can keep that, if you want." "Thanks." "Come on, let's get out of here." David closed the trunk and then went around to the driver's side and got in. Ed climbed into the back seat. The car was spacious, heavily upholstered, luxurious. As the doors closed, the sounds of the city were blocked out. They were in a womb. The only sound was Arnold's heavy breathing. He was just getting his emotions under control. David waited for a moment before starting the car. He wanted to give the boys a chance to make contact again before being distracted by the passing scenery. He looked back at Ed, whom he now figured had instigated the incident. Something would have to be said soon, or else too many ego issues would begin to build up. The problem was that Arnold was the one who would be sensitive enough to know what to say. Ed was obviously still a pup. Ed saw David glance back at him and knew he should say something. He didn't know what. He wanted to put a hand on Arnold's shoulder, but was afraid of it being rejected. A whole raft of thoughts crossed his mind, but each, on their own, seemed inadequate at best, and at worst, would only precipitate another incident, probably more damaging than the first. He became more and more frustrated as he sensed this moment of healing slipping from him. This was not his way. You didn't heal things like this, you just plowed it under and planted another crop. The last one was only fertilizer for the next, it had no other function. If this year's crop didn't go, there was always next year. Now, here was a different kind of crop. This wasn't corn, it was oak trees. Slow growing, long to come of age, but eternal, rugged, strong, thick and secure. But the nurturing had to be there. What do you say to an oak? How do you heal a limb which has been severed? What was the one thing that could fix this wound? Ed was at a loss. Nothing in his life had prepared him for a moment like this. Was it that the words he knew he needed were not available to him? No, that wasn't really true. They were there, he just didn't know how to use them. "I'm sorry, Arnie. I'm so sorry." This was as close as he could come. For now.
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