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Lolita Underage

(2011-11-22 08:33:33)





Related article: Date: Sun, 7 Oct 2007 09:39:09 -0700 From: qwb224gmail.com Subject: '52 Panhead ch 5'52 Panhead Chapter 5 We each had a big slice of Callie's apple pie with vanilla ice cream when we got home. As Evan dished it out, I went to my office and came back with the file folder of the Pan's drawings. He pulled his chair around next to mine and lifted the top sheet, my first rough sketches, for a closer look. These drawings looked the most like Evan; they'd been done while he was still fresh in my mind. I'd started out doodling one evening and ended up doing several small studies, mostly of him looking over his shoulder as he had when he'd left the garage the second time. I ate my pie slowly, watching him shuffle through the drawings. He looked at each sheet carefully, pausing now and then to study a particular detail. I'd done them in pencil on plain old copy paper, and I'm no Rembrandt, but he seemed entranced with them, paging slowly through the top five sheets until he reached the final one that I'd given the guy who painted the Pan's tank. He studied it for a bit before flipping back to the first page. He swallowed his last bite of pie, and then turned to me, holding my original sketch sheet in one hand. "Can I have this?" he asked, an odd expression Lolita Underage on his face, and I almost asked him about it, but I just nodded. He carefully rolled it up, securing it with a rubber band from my kitchen junk drawer. While I cleaned up, he went back to the bedroom to pack up his stuff. I followed him after a few minutes and stood watching him from the doorway. He was turned mostly away from me, sorting out an armful of clothes that we'd been tossing onto the chair all weekend. When he came to one of my shirts, he rubbed the fabric between his thumb and fingers for a moment, then brought it up and buried his face in it, breathing deeply. After a moment, he laid it across the back of the chair, smoothing it gently with his hand before jamming the rest of his stuff into his pack. He was looking down as he turned around and didn't see me until he was right on top of me. He stopped and glanced away, a little embarrassed, but I put a finger on his chin and turned him back to me, smiling my understanding. "You can take it if you leave one for me." He looked back at the shirt, tempted for a moment, then rolled his eyes and shook his head with a sheepish grin. "I think I can make it. Call me?" "Every night," I assured him. He sobered up at that and dropped his pack to hug me hard, pressing his face to mine. His breath was warm against my throat as he slid his hands to my butt to pull me tight against his crotch for a moment. I held the back of his neck with one hand, and ran the other slowly up and down the long muscles of his back, trying to imprint the feel of him into my hand, knowing I was going to miss him like crazy the next two weeks. Finally, he blew out a breath and stepped back from me. "Gotta go. Thanks for a really good weekend, the best in a long time." He kissed me briefly, grabbed his pack, and headed out the door. When we got to the garage, he walked slowly around the Pan, tipping his head now and then to get a good look at the tank while I watched him anxiously. Back when I'd had the paint job done, it had seemed like a great idea, a sort of homage to our one night of lust in this very garage. But now that he was actually looking at it, I was beginning to wonder if it came off like some kind of weirdo stalker thing. Evan squatted down for a closer look, tracing his finger slowly along the jaw line of his painted image. Finally, he stood and met my eyes, his face expressionless, and as he walked to me, my fingertips tingled in anticipation. I wasn't sure if he was gonna pop me one in the nose or what, but as he got closer, I could see that his eyes were dark with emotion. He walked right up to me until our foreheads met gently. He closed his eyes, nuzzling his face into mine, and his voice was ragged as he struggled through the words. "I don't know. what the fuck's goin' on here, but." He didn't finish the thought, just stood there as I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him to me. We hugged for several minutes, long enough for me to develop yet another Evan-induced hard-on. God, he was like walking Viagra to me. He chuckled as he bumped his crotch into mine. "That for me?" I snickered in return, and we stepped apart, the moment gone. He was silent as he quickly got his bike ready to go, and too soon, I was watching his tail lights recede into the darkness. I stayed at the shop for a while, puttering with stuff, then sitting on the workbench where it all began, remembering that first hot kiss. I replayed that night in my mind - the shock and pleasure of seeing him again, the incredibly strong physical attraction, the persistent and slightly spooky sensation that something more was at work. I really wasn't looking forward to going home to an empty house, but I had to work tomorrow, too, so I finally did, sitting out on the deck in the dark, bundled up in a warm coat with the dog curled next to me, my cell in my lap. I was dozing when it rang. "Hey." His voice was soft and low, and I closed my eyes, pretending that it was his warmth pressed to my leg instead of Chewy's. "I'm home okay." "Good. Sleep tight." Surprisingly, I slept pretty well, waking only once to pull his pillow to my chest, comforted by the lingering smell of him. I worked steadily, but Monday crept by. I went out at lunch and bought a huge water heater, arranging for it to be installed later in the week, thinking of all the things I could do to Evan in the shower, knowing the hot wouldn't run out. Tuesday and Wednesday were uneventful, the highlights being my nightly calls to Evan. We didn't talk much about us, just chatted about our day; he usually had a little story of something that had happened at work. Thursday he wasn't home till late, and I paced the living room until I reached him. I hated the knots of insecurity that churned around in my gut while I waited for him to get home, and I wondered if my decision to give this a shot was a wise one, but then I'd remember how good it had felt being with him and figured he was worth a little angst. I tried to keep the relief out of my voice when he finally answered, but he quickly volunteered that he'd been kept at the office by an unexpected meeting and late dinner with a big client. As we were saying goodbye, he started a sentence. "I." and my heart did a quick thump-thump. "I miss you. A lot." I closed my eyes, disappointed and relieved at the same time. "I miss you, too." We said goodnight, and I lay awake for a while, staring at the ceiling and thinking about us. Our weekend together had been better than any other three days of my life. Even the best parts of my previous relationship had been colored with the knowledge that I wanted it more than he did. With Evan, it seemed much more a mutual feeling, something we both wanted to happen. I hoped like hell that the next time I saw him, the feeling was still there; but two weeks seemed like a long time, and I was paranoid that he'd change his mind by then. I sighed deeply and rolled over, trying to get comfortable enough to fall asleep, but thinking about being with Evan had given me a hard-on I couldn't ignore, so I grabbed the lube and pushed myself partway up to lean against the head board. I stroked myself slowly at first, holding my cock loosely between my thumb and two middle fingers. As I stroked up, I let my index finger slide across the tip, circling my slit, then gliding down the sensitive underside. My left hand tugged at my balls, rolling and squeezing them gently, mimicking the way Evan had handled me. I kept it slow, working up to a mediocre orgasm that came in long, trembling spasms that exhausted me. I wiped up halfheartedly and passed out. Even jerking off wasn't much fun without Evan around. The weekend went by slowly, as I knew it would. Saturday morning I put in a couple hours at the gym, trying to work off the persistent ache in my chest, but although I worked myself into a lather, it didn't help much. After a shower and some lunch, I took a long ride on the Panhead, tempted to zoom down the freeway to Patterson, but headed west instead. The bar I stopped at probably had a few decent looking guys in it, but I could barely muster up the enthusiasm to order a beer, much less cruise the joint. As I munched some peanuts, I wondered at my mood. I'd just met the guy of my dreams - I should be happy. Instead I was lethargic and depressed. I knew part of it was that I had another six days to go before I could get my hands on Evan; but part of it was the increasingly uncomfortable thought that maybe I wasn't very likely boyfriend material. I'd been fucking around for a long time. That footloose lifestyle can change the way you think about things, making it difficult to apply the single-minded dedication that a solid relationship requires. And then there was that monogamy thing. I wondered if I'd be able to settle down with just one guy, even if that guy was Evan. It was a sobering thought, and I considered it glumly as I stared at the bowl of nuts in front of me. And what about Evan? Ten years was a long time. Ten years without a meaningful relationship might have damaged him, as well. I sighed. God, weren't we a pair? If something worked out between us, it'd be a fuckin' miracle. I finished my beer and was standing up to go when a guy sat down on the stool to my right. "Buy you another?" he asked. "No thanks." I said without making eye contact as I shrugged into my jacket and reached for my keys. "You sure?" His voice was friendly and just suggestive enough that I finally took a look at him. His jeans were tight, and his nipples raised two hard little nubs under his snug white t-shirt. About my height, slender, pretty; and barely old enough to be in the bar. He looked up at me then and gave me a shy smile, his brown eyes full of promise as he chewed on one side of his lower lip. Jeee-zuz. Not long ago I'd've sat my ass right back down on that barstool, drunk the boy's beer, and hustled him off to the nearest bathroom before he had time to change his mind. Now it just made me think about Evan. Fuck, I was gettin' old. I sat down next to him, but waved off the beer he signaled for. "Listen, kid." The boy's face tightened at 'kid' and he looked away. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm not very good company right now." He looked at me then, a sweet smile curving his mouth as he rested his hand on high on my leg, his little finger brushing my nuts. "Bet I could make you feel a whole lot better." My dick was interested, but my mind was full of Evan as I said, "No doubt, but." But what? I've got a boyfriend? Not hardly, after only two days. "But Lolita Underage I'm seeing someone." The boy looked pointedly past me at the empty barstool on my left, and then raised an eloquent eyebrow. "But he's not here, is he?" He shrugged. "No harm, no foul." I smiled at him as I shook my head and stood."God,you're young." His face shut down then, going from flirt to hustler in a split second. Gone was the pretty boy who'd tried to pick me up, and his voice was cold and rough when he said, "Wake up, asshole. He's probably out doin' somebody right now." I tipped his beer into his packed crotch, and left the bar. By then it was late afternoon and the ride home was chilly, but I felt great. I'd walked away from a sure thing back there, pretty much a first for me; maybe I'd make a decent boyfriend after all. I gunned the Pan out Lolita Underage of a turn, grinning inside my helmet. Evan called around seven to say that he wouldn't be home later and didn't want to miss my call. I bit my tongue to keep from asking him where he'd be, but he picked up something in my voice. "I've got a... family thing to go to. That's why I couldn't come up this weekend." "No problem," I said, but I couldn't help wondering if he was missing me like I was him. No wonder long distance relationships are such a bad idea - your mind has too much time alone to fuck you up. Sunday morning I installed a new video card in my game computer, then fired up Call of Duty 2 and stalked Nazis through the streets of Stalingrad while I ran a couple loads of laundry. Nothin' like blowing shit up to take your mind off your troubles. In the afternoon, I mowed Lolita Underage the lawn, trimmed the back hedge, and weeded the flower beds. Callie was a veteran gardener, and the first summer I'd lived here, after seeing how lame my front yard looked next to hers, I'd put in a big raised planter on either side of the front porch. We'd made a trip to the garden center, coming home with flats and six packs of perennials that Callie promised didn't require much care. I'd managed to kill a bunch of them before finding three or four that thrived under my black thumb, and now, in late spring several years later, it looked pretty damn good. After I mowed Callie's yard, I showered and then joined her for dinner on her back porch, watching the fireflies winking in the gloom of dusk as we ate home fried chicken and her wonderful German potato salad. When she came back from the kitchen with more iced tea, she asked, "Who's that good looking boy who visited last weekend?" "Evan," I mumbled around a mouthful of chicken. "Evan. That's a lovely name. How's he doing?" "I have no idea," I replied sourly, wishing she'd just drink her tea and leave it alone. After spending most of today wondering what Evan had been up to last night, I was back to being pessimistic about our chances, and beginning to wonder if maybe I was bipolar or something. Or maybe in love. Same difference, I think. "You like him, don't you? More than any of the others." Her voice was soft, and when I glanced up, she was gazing out across the dark, freshly-mown lawn, her hands resting in her lap, her expression pensive and a little sad. She'd never told me much about her past, but I knew she'd lost a fianc� in the early `60s and had never married. My irritation evaporated as I answered her honestly. "Yeah, a lot more than the others." As I said the words aloud, I realized how true they were. "More than anyone." She turned to me then, smiling. "Good. You've been lonely the past few months, staying down at that garage till all hours." I raised an eyebrow at her and she shrugged. "My arthritis keeps me up some nights. I see your lights on late." She paused for a moment before asking, "Does he like you?" Did Evan like me? I had to believe he did. We were good together in so many ways, so many of the little ways that can seem small at first, but that can wedge a relationship apart if they aren't right. Our comfortable silences, our kitchen domesticity, our easy intimacy in bed were all very good. I stared unseeingly at my plate as I recalled the feel of his hands on me, his deep, intense kisses, the utter contentment of lying quietly in his arms. I met Callie's eyes with a smile. "Yeah, he likes me." * * * Callie was big on old sayings, and I could just about hear her now. "There's no free lunch, Jeffery," she'd say. "Nothing good ever comes easy." That's what she'd have told me if she'd been there when Evan called at 4:30pm on Thursday to tell me he couldn't make it for the weekend. My stony silence told him how I felt about that bit of news. Neither of us spoke until he said softly, "I wanna come..... I miss you..... but I've got a last minute flight to Chicago early Sunday morning and I need to get to the dry cleaner's, do some laundry, all sorts of shit. I'm sorry." I didn't say a word. "Jeff. please say something." `Once burned - twice shy,' another Callie favorite, described me perfectly. I'd already been anxious about getting close to somebody again, and when I finally met someone I halfway trusted, this is what happened. "Fine, fuck it," I told him and closed my cell. Lolita Underage I yanked the fridge open, ripped the top off a beer with shaky hands, and chugged a few big gulps. "Fuck!" Chewy whined quietly under the table as I dragged out a chair and slumped into it, angry and disappointed - and hurt. Squeezing my eyes shut, I slowly dropped my head back to rest against the chair, tightening my belly against the pain. God, it hurt. You don't really remember how bad rejection was until it happened again. After a few minutes, Chew bumped his nose into my knee, and I slid my fingers through the fur of his neck, grateful for his small comfort. Five minutes passed while I finished the beer and started another. It was a little early to be poundin' down the brewskies, but fuck that, too. Fuck everything, especially a dark-haired, gray-eyed thief of hearts named Evan. When my cell rang again, I picked it up without looking at the display, hoping it was a telemarketer I could rip to shreds. "Yeah?" I snarled. "Jeff, don't hang up." Evan spoke quickly. "I just emailed you directions to my place. I'll leave work early tomorrow and be home around two. If you come then, we'll have a day and a half. I know it's not a whole weekend, and I'll have to do some errands, but..." I let the offer hang there while I gauged the sincerity in his voice. I really wanted to believe him. When he whispered, "Jeff, please," I could almost feel his breath on my cheek and that did it; I closed my eyes and gave in. "Two o'clock?" "Yeah." "All right," I agreed grudgingly. "Okay," Evan sighed, relief evident in his tone. "Okay, good. Call me back if the directions didn't come through, all right? See you then." "Yeah," I replied, then flipped the phone shut and put it down, staring at it until Chewy snuck out from under the table to go nudge at the back door. I had to get out of the house, so I clipped on his leash and headed down the block, walking off my mad, trying to let the hurt go. I'd agreed to go to Patterson, but I wasn't at all sure I'd actually do it. Evan's canceling of our plans had put a pretty big ding in the thin layer of confidence I'd managed to coat our budding relationship with. It was a wake-up call of the rudest kind, one I maybe shouldn't ignore. After an hour of pounding the pavement, I was still hurting but no longer angry, and I still hadn't decided what to do. I checked the puter when we got back to the house, finding a porno clip from a bar buddy, an ad for Viagra, and Evan's email. I watched the clip - two hot muscleheads doin' the nasty on a weight bench - deleted the ad, and, with a deep breath, finally opened the one from Evan. Jeff - I should have asked you to come here right away instead of just canceling on you. It seemed Lolita Underage like a long drive for a short visit, but then I remember that I drove it for just an hour with you - the hour that started all this. I'm really sorry. See you tomorrow at 2 - don't fuckin' be late! Evan xoxo Lolita Underage I was smiling by the time I finished reading it; smiling, but still undecided. I fixed dinner for Chewy and me - scrambled eggs, sausage and toast, and ate leaning against the kitchen counter. Chew knew the drill and sat in front of me, an expectant look on his furry face. Every third bite or so, I'd lob the contents of the fork into the air and he'd make a mad leap for the hunk of eggs or bite of sausage, snapping it neatly out of the air. After I cleaned up, it was only seven, so I tried to read for a while, but my mind kept circling around and around. Go? Don't go? Like some fucked up Monopoly game. By ten I gave up and went to bed where I dreamed of Evan. We were in the woods where I'd found him, but it was dark and strange. I was following him, but he got too far ahead and when I came to a fork in the trail, I wasn't sure which way to go. As I stood there looking to the right, straining to see him in the dim light, Evan appeared suddenly on my left, calling my name softly. When I turned, he held out a hand, but as I reached for it, the dream faded and I woke up. It was 2am, the dead of night, and the house was quiet except for Chewy snoring softly on the rug next to the bed. As I lay there thinking about the dream, it brought to mind the first stanza of a Robert Frost poem I'd memorized when I was young and confused about things. Its theme of making a difficult choice, of choosing which road to take, had resonated with me then.Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth;The poem goes on to express the mild regret that is part and parcel of a difficult decision - what would your life have been like if you'd chosen the other road? Was there some message in the dream that I was too dense to understand? I lay there for an hour tumbling it around in my mind, but no flashes of brilliant insight came along to explain things. I did finally fall back asleep knowing that I'd drive to Patterson tomorrow. I needed to see Evan.***Many thanks to David of Hope for editing chores.Thanks for reading. If you're enjoying Jeff and Evan, I'd sure like to hear from you. qwb224gmail.com
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