“Bike Ride,” VII
The knock of the maid woke Erwin up the following morning around 11 – complete with the biggest hangover of his life – and after two alka seltzers he walked up to the beach, casually searching for, yet not wanting to find Vic and his friend.
It was another sunny, breezy July day in May and Sebastian was littered with men, the best looking ones making sure to instinctively stand up like erect dicks and swagger and stroke their abs or lather lotion over their chests as they chatted with their buddies or on their cell-phones or bobbed in the waves, all just to be desperately noticed among the sea of attractive clones, desired, lusted after, even ridiculed.
Anything but be ignored.
Erwin was trying his best to concentrate on distracting himself with the Sunday paper when he felt a hand on his shoulder from behind. He turned. It was the kid – Ben – from the night before. Tight little hairless body, more a boy’s than a man’s, with nipples-in-training, Batman sunglasses and a blazing white bikini that might as well have been Handi-wrap. The kid crouched down next to his chair so whatever was between his legs only hung more.
“Well, Daddy, why didn’t you come back last night? Don’t you love me anymore?” quipped Ben with a toothy smile as white as his suit.
“I was supposed to meet a friend – but in the end he didn’t show,” said Erwin apologetically. “So did you find the love of your life last night?”
“No,” said Ben softly, his mouth two inches from Erwin’s face. “I was waiting for you.”
Erwin returned to the Business section of the Sun Sentinel. “And the next thing you gonna tell me is you come cheap – daytime rate, fifty bucks a half hour.”
Ben rose up and began laughing.
“Thanks for the compliment, but I ain’t no hustler. No, just a boring store clerk from Boston down here for some R and R.”
“Boston, you don’t sound Boston.”
“I grew up outside Phoenix with my aunt – moved to Boston with my very first lover about a year ago – a guy that looked a lot like you – but it didn’t click.”
“Oh, what happened?”
“Things? Like what?”
“Just things, that’s all. Actually I’m thinking of moving here.”
“I’m sure this town is in short supply of store clerks,” said Erwin, putting down his paper. ”So Ben, what do you want from me?”
“To pick up where we left off,” said Ben energetically. “You’re a top, right?”
Erwin had never fucked in his life – not even Dorothy.
“Sure, my guest house is just two blocks over.”
Ben grinned, gesturing with his chin. “I’m right across the street.”
Young guys with boy bodies weren’t Erwin’s first choice but the kid was all of twenty and here was a chance to try something new.
The door of the room had barely closed behind them when the kid tossed off his bikini – more illusion than reality thought Erwin when he saw the small package – then pulled Erwin’s baggy swimsuit to the floor, knelt down and began sucking him like he was in some kind of race against time.
“Slow down,” said Erwin, gently pushing him away. “I like it slow.”
The kid complied and so did Mother Nature.
“Nice daddy dick,” said the kid between licks. Gently grabbing Erwin by the root of his cock, the kid led him to the bed, lay back and threw his legs up onto Erwin’s broad shoulders. Then he leaned over, retrieved the tube of KY from the edge of the bed and threw it between his crotch, the cap aimed right at his hairless butt hole. Erwin was about to reach for the tube when the kid pulled away.
“Wait –” said Ben, scanning the room.
“What, looking for a condom?” asked Erwin politely.
“No man, no way – but there’s something else –” and he strained to reach a small duffle bag that was lying on the side of the bed. Rummaging through it a second, he pulled out an orange plastic syringe.
Ben held the offering out to Erwin.
“I want you to do it,” he said like a five year old anticipating some carnival ride.
“I – I can’t – I don’t – I’ve never -” stammered Erwin.
“O.K.,” clipped Ben, still grinning, who without a moment’s hesitation, stuck the needle into his arm. Erwin looked away, trying to hide his surprise but wondering whether it was time to grab his swimsuit. He heard the syringe hit the floor.
“All right, daddy,” said Ben throwing his silky smooth legs once again over Erwin’s shoulders, as he grabbed those hairy nipples and tugged. “Now, I want you to fuck me, fuck me good and hard, and keep fucking me until that Daddy dick of yours falls off.”
Forty five minutes later, a limp, sweaty Erwin left an equally drenched Ben, who was contemplating his duffle bag’s dildo collection as Erwin closed the door. Erwin returned to the beach. No Vic and friend. But as he cut through the small lot across the street, he saw Vic’s bike was there after all, in the same handicapped space he had used the day before. Only this time accompanying the handicapped card was what appeared to be a parking ticket. With no one around, Erwin pulled the ticket around so he could read it.
“Handicap Pass expired,” was scribbled at the bottom in classic almost indecipherable cop-ez. Erwin thought a moment about returning to the beach, then continued walking on.
That night, his last night in Fort Lauderdale, Erwin went for dinner at Teddie’s Kitchen, a small quiet restaurant with fake fine art on its velvet wallpapered walls. There were only about ten men in the place, and as he waited for his chicken cutlets, a plain but pleasant looking bald-headed guy, late fifties, early sixties guessed Erwin, kept staring back at him with a faint, bemused smile on his face. The guy used the moment as the waiter came with Erwin’s light beer to get up and come over.
“Are you waiting for someone?” asked the short, slight man.
“No, said Erwin, just as benignly pleasant.
“Would you mind if I joined you? I hate eating alone.”
Erwin gestured to the empty chair across from him.
“I was supposed to meet a friend for dinner,” said the guy, sitting down, “but, last minute, he called and said he wasn’t feeling well.”
Suddenly, the man bowed his head. “No, that’s not it at all. Why should I lie to you? I guess you can say I got – got stood up.”
“So what happened?” said Erwin.
“I belong to the Christian Brothers,” said the guy whose name was Mel, “a dating service for older Christian men. There’s a newsletter, mailed discretely of course, where we post descriptions and our likes and dislikes, and if you’re interested in someone, you exchange pictures and letters and sometimes you even actually meet.”
“Kinda quaint,” said Erwin. “No internet?”
“Oh, no,” said Mel, “all snail-mail as the kids call it. Most of our members are not too comfortable using computers or phones.”
“And –” prompted Erwin.
“Well, this guy – he’s retired down here now from Great Falls, Montana – he and I had been corresponding for the past couple of months. He’s a retired teacher like me – I’m from Omaha.”
“I’m from Chicago,” interjected Erwin.
“You’re a big city boy,” said Mel with a light smile. “We – we’re just country bumpkins I’m afraid.”
“So what happened?”
“Well, I decided to come down on a vacation and Quentin – that’s his name – Quentin suggested we meet here for dinner – a nice quiet place, not a lot of people – it was going to be our first, face-to-face meeting. I even spoke to him on the phone earlier this afternoon. Everything was set.”
Mel’s iced tea arrived.
“But I guess he had cold feet, or maybe he passed by the restaurant and didn’t like what he saw. It’s not that I sent him an old picture or lied in my description –“
“It could be he was intimidated by you,” said Erwin. “Maybe he was the one who wasn’t honest.”
“You know, I never thought about it that way,” replied Mel, suddenly sounding relieved. “Thanks for making me feel better.”
“But you are going to call him, and tell him off, aren’t you?” added Erwin.
“Well, I don’t know whether I can – or I should – ”
“Don’t let anybody shit on you,” said Erwin grabbing a hard hold on his Bud Light. “I don’t care if they look like Rock Hudson in his prime.”
“Would you – would you like some company tonight?” asked Mel meekly.
“I’m afraid my flight leaves tomorrow morning at 6,” said Erwin, thinking quickly. “I need to get to the airport at 4 when they’re just milking the cows.”
“Well,” said Mel, hiding his visible disappointment in a laugh. “I know something about milking cows, that’s for sure.”
He took a couple of quick swigs of his iced tea then got up and tossed three dollars on the table.
“You know, I’m not as hungry as I thought I was. It was good talking to you. Enjoy your meal.” And then he smiled that faint smile one last time and, head up, walked out onto the street.
Erwin realized he wasn’t hungry either. But it was too late. His chicken cutlets had arrived.
Next: The Call