Robby got a hardon from me massaging him, and I'm thinking: Oh my god, what should I do now? No need for me to do anything, though, because he jumped up like someone had stuck a pin in his ass and said, "Whew, that felt good, Dylan. It loosened up my muscles; I've been so tense lately." He's keeping his back to me, pretending to do something with his sneakers. I was taken aback for a second by the abrupt end to the massage, but he must have felt panic that he sprung a boner.
This is a very encouraging development, though. Then, the horn indicated the work day had begun. We wandered out to our pickup truck and then it was a sweaty day with temperatures in the mid-nineties. It was so hot and humid that we ate lunch in the cab of the air-conditioned pick-up truck in three shifts. I feared Joel would be in the cab with me when it was my turn, but Toby ensured it was him and me. He ate a big lunch without closing his mouth, making wet mouth sounds, and asking me probing questions about the girls in my life.
He told me he was sure I had a hot sex life. Of course, he was fishing, but my answers were vague and probably frustrating to the poor man. I answered sincerely, though, and soon, it became a fun game of avoiding a direct answer to his questions. He finally said, lisping, "You are such an enigma, Dylan, but I'll bet you're making someone happy." I got the impression his gaydar had sensed I could be gay, although he wasn't positive. Toby is a nice guy, so I made sure not to mock him, but I also didn't want to come out to him. I'm only out to a couple of guys.
We were hot, sweaty, and beaten up from the heat that day, so much so that Robby and I skipped the massages after work. Monday night, Chubby was smiling and joking as we made our dinner. He said, "Rickie told this joke at lunch. And, heh, heh, it's pretty good." His joke: Arthur's doctor tells him the severe headaches he's experienced for years can be cured, but it requires castration. The doctor discovered that Arthur had a rare condition; his testicles pressed against his spine, causing terrible headaches. After searching for months for an alternative cure, Arthur very reluctantly agreed to have his testicles removed.
He left the hospital without a headache for the first time in twenty years, saw a men's clothing store, and decided to buy a new suit with his newfound freedom from pain. The tailor eyed Arthur briefly and said, "Size 44 long." Then he said, "Sleeve 34, neck 16 1/2." Arthur's amazed that a quick glance is all the tailor needs to determine accurate sizes. The tailor says, "I've been in the business sixty years and know my sizes." Arthur also wanted underwear, so the tailor said, "Size 36." Arthur mumbled, "Ah ha... gotcha there. I've worn size 34 since I was 18 years old." The tailor shakes his head and says, "No, you can't wear size 34. That size would press your testicles up against the base of your spine and give you one hell of a headache!"
I wasn't expecting the punch line, so I got a good burst of laughter. Chubby, unlike Willie, doesn't laugh at his own joke; he tells jokes with a deadpan expression, which struck me as funny, too. Chubby goes, "Hey, it's not that great of a joke. I could tell you anything, and you'd laugh just because I told it." I said, "Well, sure, but that was funny."
It was wonderful to see Chubby in a good mood again. He and Rickie worked out all their differences. I may find out what the differences were someday. We watched the Red Sox after dinner on the recliner together, but there wasn't much bodily contact. I rubbed Chubby's buzzed head and tried to pull him over next to me, but he said, "We're outgrowing that stuff, Dylan. Remember?" I said, "I don't want to outgrow it!" Chubby jokes about that by saying, "Wah, wah, wah, my best bro misses his cuddles." Chubby hugged me tightly, hopped off the recliner, and got us a Coke to share. At least we're still sharing stuff.
Tuesday morning at work, as I headed for the locker room, Joel called me over. He looked serious as always, but for the first time, I also realized how young he looked. He was a couple of years older than me, and while he looked older than that, he was pretty young. He has a freaky muscular body, though, especially his arms. I mumbled, "Morning, Joel," and he wiggled his finger for me to come over to the alcove he was standing in. Oh, fuck, he'd been waiting for me. I took the four steps over to him as he stared at me with this tough-guy look. He says, "Okay, I like that haircut." He ran his fingers through my hair with one hand and held my shoulder with the other. I stood straight, my hands behind me, as I do for the Marine.
I admit that he scares me. Joel made some weird face that may have been his idea of a concerned expression and said, "You won't be able to spend this weekend with me. I've other plans, but I can take you on for the weekend after this one." With my nuts shriveling to pea size, I said respectfully, "Joel, I appreciate you taking an interest in me, but I need to be honest and tell you that the interest is not reciprocal. I'm sorry. No disrespect intended."
He changed his expression to a pissed-off frown and, quick as a snake, his hand dropped off my shoulder to get a hold on my left arm and yanked me against his iron-hard body so hard the gum I was chewing flew out of my mouth. I thought the wind was knocked out of me, too, but a huge air intake got me breathing again. He snarled, "What the fuck does reciprocal have to do with it?"
For a second, I didn't understand. I frowned and then mumbled, "Huh? What do you mean?" His lip curled; a vein throbbed in his forehead. He is unhinged and dangerous. From some faint nod, I decided he didn't know what the word meant, but I wouldn't embarrass him, or he might break my neck. With my heart pounding out of my chest, I said, as calmly as I could, "Please let go of my arm, Joel. I must have given you the wrong impression, but not on purpose. I'm sorry. It's just that I can't return your interest in me. I can't return your feelings because I have no feelings for you. As I said, I'm sorry if I unintentionally mislead you into thinking I had an interest in a relationship with you. As I've repeatedly said, I mean no disrespect at all. I'd like to be your friend at work, but that's all."
His mouth was open, and a saliva strand connected his top front tooth with a bottom tooth; it arched out as his exhale blew past it. Nice teeth, by the way. I was returning his stare but not in a challenging manner. I'm not as nuts as he is. He closed his mouth, wiped his hand across his lips, and mumbled. "You have been waving your twat at me, giving me those bedroom eyes, always looking for me on the job, and you're saying I'm imagining all that? Is that it, punk? Is that what you're saying?" I whispered, "I didn't do any of those things. You've misinterpreted my behavior. I wasn't intentionally doing any of it."
He let go of my arm and said, "I don't know what you're babbling about, and neither do you. You're fucked up in the head. But, whatever, you still need somebody to straighten you out and teach you how to act. You're subconsciously begging for help, and I'm going to be that person to teach you right from wrong. It ain't going to be this weekend, though. It'll be the weekend after, as I already said, and you fucking better have yourself prepared for a rough start."
He looked at me hard for a few seconds, me at a loss as to how I could make it any plainer for him, then his other hand flew up and smacked the back of my head, "WHACK!" Stars swarmed around my eyes; I blinked rapidly as he walked away. My knees were shaky, and I wanted to pee my pants. He actually believes I'm coming on to him. Talk about delusional. I leaned against the wall, thinking he was still dangerous, but the supposed weekend for his re-education program planned for me was put off for another week. That's a relief! It's also another week closer to the end of my involvement with that madman. Only a month until school starts, and then I'll be safely working in Stop and Shop, bagging groceries and saying, have a nice day to everyone.
Robbie was disappointed I got to the locker room so late, but after that fun play time with Joel, I had to go into a stall in the lavatory and sit on the toilet seat until my breathing and heartbeat returned to normal. Joel is one scary mother-fucker. Robby and I did quick massages, and when he was doing mine, he leaned down so the sides of our faces touched like we do sometimes. He said, "I have something wicked important to tell you after work, Dylan. Please try to return to my locker as soon as we leave the job sight. I'm depending on you, Dylan."
I told him, "Sure. What's it all about? Dodger screwing up again?" He said, "Later, I got to work up the courage first." He was very uptight, and I was worried there might be some problem with his home life or something. What could it be? Naturally, it would be my dream come true if he was going to tell me he's gay and has a crush on me, and could he suck my dick or something like that, but I'm more realistic. That's a fantasy, and Robby and I need to deal with some real-life problems. I'll help in any way he wants me to, of course, but I don't think I'm good at solving problems. My best strategy is to put the problem off as long as possible and hope it works itself out or, better yet, it just goes away somehow, like the Jake Rollins thing worked itself out.
It wasn't as hot today on the job, so the lawn work was easier than yesterday. We ate in the shade of a big old oak tree, and the nice breeze helped. Joel sat beside me, and even though he never said a word or touched me, it wasn't the most relaxed lunch I'd ever had. Toby was bitching about IRS deductions from his pay. After a two-minute sermon about the evils of income tax, he lisped, "You put those two words together: "the" and "IRS" and it spells theirs. That says it all."
Robby said, "Raffie Devers hit another walk-off home run last night. Did you see it?" Toby mumbles, "Who did what?" And I saw Robby biting his lip not to laugh. Toby isn't into sports too much. I told everyone Chubby's joke about the guy who got castrated unnecessarily, and all the guys got a good laugh except Joel, who muttered, "I'd have castrated that fucking doctor if it happened to me." Toby lisped, "It's a joke, Joel; no one would ever get castrated because they had a headache," he laughed and pushed Joel's shoulder. Joel smiled self-consciously and said, "I knew that, Toby. I was joking." For once, Joel seemed normal.
By the time we were unloading the pick-up at the end of the day, the skies opened up, and it rained hard, as it does in the summer. I thought about the block party Willie and I were supposed to be at tonight and how they'll need to postpone it because of this rain. Then I remembered that Willie was sick so we couldn't go anyway. I was more than a little disappointed. I already missed Saturday's date night and now Tuesday's date night, and that sucks! Willie was taking up more and more of my contemplating time of late.
Gee, yeah. I thought about him a lot, and it always came back to the special way he treats me and the way he fucks me. I love the make-outs, too, but it's the way he fucks me that's nuclear hot! I've been getting boners just thinking about him, and I love the tight ball he gets us into after sex. He wraps me up so tightly I can hardly move. I guess it's his control thing to a certain degree, showing me he's stronger than me and, therefore, dominant. That's true, although the word, dominant, is such a small part of everything about Willie and me. Anyway, I love him.
Thinking about all that, I'm dumping grass clipping into the large bin from the barrels on the truck; Robby says, "I'll see you at my locker, Dylan." I nod, "Yeah, sure, Robby." but I'd forgotten about that problem he wanted to tell me. Curious, I hurried up, finished with the grass clippings, said goodnight to Toby and the boys, and then hurried into the locker room. I saw how red his face was and how nervous he was, rubbing his fingers together and tapping his foot. What the hell is going on? Now I was anxious that maybe Dodger had confessed some of his and my sexy play together, but to who?
I walked right up to Robby and said, "Does this have anything to do with Dodger?" I was taking the offensive. He goes, "Dodger? No, nothing to do with Dodger. It has to do with us two, you and me. Well, mostly me, I guess." Too startled to react sensibly, I mutter, "Us?" He looked away and said, real fast, "Don't hate me, and please don't tell anybody, but I'm gay, and I have a wicked crush on you." His face got even redder, so I was sure this wasn't a joke, although I did look around for the college kids, thinking it would be like them to put Robby up, but I knew that wasn't it!
I couldn't think of anything to say, so I coughed a few times and then came up with this, "Why would I hate you? Huh?" Not too cool of me, and he wouldn't look at me, and then he said, "I can't breathe, I can't breathe," he sounded panicky, so I stepped to him and grabbed his shoulders to shake him. "It'll be okay, Robby. It's alright," and I hugged him as best I could; his body was like a thick steel wire. He hesitated, then wrapped his arms around me and asked, "What will be okay?" I said as matter-of-factly as if I was telling him I'm five feet, ten inches tall, "I'm gay too. We're a couple of wickedly cute gay boys."
Robby muttered quietly, "Oh, thank God. I prayed it would work out, but I wouldn't even let myself hope you'd be gay, too. I just hoped you'd be my friend, sharing my secret and helping me discuss things. It's so lonely being gay all alone." Mrs. Dickers called over to Robby that they were ready to take off for home. Hee ignored that and asked me, "After dinner, can I come over and talk about this? I'm so relieved and excited, Dylan. I can't believe it!" I said, "Sure, Robby, but what about Dodger?" He asks, "What about him? Whaddaya mean?" I was half meaning, are you and Dodger gay together? Because of his response, though, I ask, "Did you tell him?"
He shakes his head, "No, but he'd want to come with me. He can play video games; we'll have some time to talk. Hey, you're coming over tomorrow night for the Wednesday barbecue, right?" Again, Mrs. Dickers calls for Robby. I mumble, "Right, I'll see you tonight. and we'll talk." We were both acting unsure of ourselves. Robby took my hand and kissed it, saying, "Thank you, Dylan, thank you!" and he was gone.
Holy shit! Sitting on the bench before Robby's locker, I forced my mind to blank. Too many loud thoughts roared in my head, all trying to get my attention simultaneously. I heard the janitorial staff bumbling around in the offices, but other than that, I just stared at Robby's locker. I'd already missed my bus, so I had a while before the next one. I let myself believe that Omigod, Robby Dickers, is gay, and he has a wild crush on me!
Then, it occurs to me it's Tuesday night, my date night with Willie, except he's sick. Damn, if Willie was well, I wouldn't have been able to follow up on Robby's suggestion we get together tonight. Hmm, my life is going to be getting complicated. I mean, do I tell Robby I have a boyfriend who I love? Do I mention Robby to Willie? Yeah, well, I've got some things to think about, but for right now, I call Chubby's cell to tell him I missed my bus.
This is really unexpected! Sure, I dreamed of Robby being gay, but I always put it in the fantasy category. In my mind, it was never a real possibility, until recently. The massages should have been the give-a-way. No two teenage boys would massage each other like that unless something was going on in their heads sexually. That's so obvious to me now. So, why didn't I see it sooner? Robby obviously saw it earlier, which gave him the courage to take a chance of being honest about his gayness.
Wow, jerking off the last year or two, I fantasized about maybe being gay and some mystery boy fucking me, but that is so far from actually doing something with another male. That's when you're 'out' as the saying goes. Out to yourself, I mean... yourself and the other guy. Whatever!
Walking from the bus stop to my condo, I was so elated about the possibilities in Robby's surprise announcement that I jumped in the air, pumped my fist and yelled, "Yes!" Then I heard a girl's voice say, "What a geek." Glancing over my shoulder, I see two girls giggling behind me about a half block away. One of them jumps three inches off the sidewall, "Yes..."
I turned at the next block and walked four blocks out of my way to get away from them. That put damper on my mood, but only momentarily, and going into Chubby's condo I was in my usual after work, positive frame of mind. Chubby was in his new after work smiling and cheerful frame of mind. I've got to find out what he's doing for that dickhead Rickie.
To be continued...
