Chapter Twelve
Hoping Darleen is not with Frankie, I bring the lunch along with me, and ring Frankie's doorbell. Oh, the pretty woman who answered the door looked like Frankie's older sister, except he didn't have an older sister. A second look, and I realized it was Frankie's mother. She was young -looking and I saw who Frankie got his bright red hair from. It looked better on Frankie.
She smiled and said, "You must be Oliver. Oh my, aren't you the cutest thing? My goodness, um, Frankie's in the backyard on the chaise lounge, sitting in the shade. He was getting cabin fever in his room."
I thanked her and followed her through their small house and out the back screen door. She said, "He's sitting behind that shrub in front of the garage." He's hidden from view, and it's the damnest thing, but I felt nervous about seeing him, but no Darleen, so that's awesome! He was looking in my direction when I walked around the flowering shrub. I suppose he'd heard the back door slam. The second our eyes met he gave me the warmest smile I think I've ever gotten from anyone. He looked pale, which showed off his bright red hair and, behind his round eyeglasses, his dark blue eyes. Omigod, I love him!
Like walking in a trance, I'm admiring Frankie's rosy red lips, milk-white teeth, cute nose, and chin, and his dimples: the perfect picture of a young guy. Frankie was shirtless, showing off his hairless skinny chest and arms, which is very much like mine. It was fairly hot, and he was wearing only a pair of cut-off jeans, which had been cut off way up at the crotch, so his legs looked long with perfectly shaped calf muscles and just a sprinkling of short, light hairs on the lower portion of his legs. He looked good enough to eat or at least lick and suck from his big toe to the tip of his flat-top red hair.
My heart thumped in my chest, heavy and fast. As I said, I'm madly in love with Frankie Nerney.
Walking over, I was smiling back at him as hard as I could. Frankie said, "Wha'cha got there, Oliver?" I handed him my lunch, and he said, "Thanks, Dude." He opened the bag, took out the sandwich, unwrapped it, and took a big bite. With a mouthful of chicken salad sandwich, he said, "This is the best get-well present I've ever gotten." Small pieces of chicken flew out of his mouth as he talked.
I had to laugh because everything is over-the-top with Frankie and the other thing is, I've never seen anybody eat as much and stay so thin. We talked about work while Frankie ate everything in my lunch bag. As he was finishing the second of two vanilla cupcakes, with a big grin on his face and vanilla icing shining on his teeth, he held out his hand for the Snapple drink. When I handed him the bottle, Frankie took hold of my wrist and pulled me down toward him. Frankie cupped the back of my neck with his right hand and pulled my head down, then kissed my mouth. A happy tear ran down my face as our tongues slid together, and we shared a sloppy kiss like on the loading dock. Plus, I shared the last taste of that second vanilla cupcake.
After a thirty-second make-out, Frankie said, "Thanks for my present, Oliver. It was delicious." I looked right into his big blue eyes, thinking, "So, are you delicious, Frankie. His eyeglass lenses were misted over from the heat of our kiss. I had to sit down on the edge of the chaise lounge or faint. As I've said a number of times, I never know what to expect from Frankie. All I managed to say was, "You couldn't be more welcome, Frankie. I've missed you!"
It was awkward sitting on the edge of this loveseat thing, so I stumbled up and, to break out of the awkwardness, I asked if we could grab a smoke somewhere. Frankie loved that idea because he hadn't had a smoke in five days. He didn't want his Mom seeing him smoke because her lecture about the evils of cigarettes had been heard too many times already.
As he stood, Frankie grunted and held his right side, and felt at the back side of his left knee, grimacing as we walked. "Let's go inside the garage, Oliver. We'll sneak a smoke in there like I used to do when I was twelve years old. Ha ha."
Their garage had too much junk in it to park a car in. It was more like a storage area. Frankie sat on an old canvas director's chair and groaned again. "This fucking incision still hurts like hell," he said while extending his left leg straight out. Hmm, there is something odd about this, but I don't know what it is.
We smoked and talked about Frankie's operation. Then, during our second cigarette, Frankie got up gingerly and limped over to stand in front of me. With his cigarette dangling from the side of his mouth and his eye squinted closed from the smoke, he took my hand and said, "Wait till you feel this," and he pushed my hand down inside his cut-offs. Huh, he wasn't wearing underpants. I felt smooth skin all around his cock and balls. The skin is as smooth as a baby's bottom.
Frankie told me that some old guy shaved him before the operation and the old guy did a lot of dick and nut grabbing while he was at it, too. "It was gross, Oliver, but a nurse had already shot me up with something, and I was getting too woozy to say anything."
That made me think of the time when using a pair of scissors, I'd cut most of Frankie's red pubic hairs off so I could locate the five-inch splinter he'd gotten from the old loading dock. I'd opened and closed those sharp scissors time and time again, making sure to hold onto his cock and move it clear of my barbering. Frankie didn't think that was gross.
Frankie was still talking, "I bet that old bastard sucked me off after I was knocked out. What do you think, Oliver?" I shook my head a little, groped my boner, and gulped at the thought of the last time I sucked Frankie off. The old guy was the last thing Frankie remembered until he woke up the next day. He explained how fast, how surreal, the entire experience of the burst appendix and the trip to the hospital and the operation and everything. While he told me all about it, I continued to rub his crotch because my boner was painfully stretching my underpants.
Done his story, he took a drag of his cigarette and pulled my hand out of his pants. Exhaling a lot of smoke in my face, Frankie said, "I've got to sit down, Oliver." He sat on my lap facing me, one of his legs on either side of my knees and wrapped one arm around my neck to pull me in for a kiss while at the same time taking off his glasses and setting them on a pile of newspapers. I gasped at the added weight on my sore bum but soon forgot all about that.
I could smell Frankie's unique, natural scent, and my heartbeat accelerated dramatically. For his first kiss, we both had cigarette smoke in our lungs and as we kissed, it drifted out the corners of our lips. During another kiss, Frankie blew smoke into my mouth, and I inhaled it and blew that same smoke out my nose. Neither of us said anything; we were used to goofing around with each other, doing nutty things, and kissy things, too.
We dropped the cigarette butts on the cement floor and really went at our make-out and spit-swapping. Frankie kept his arm tight around my neck and my face pressed tight with his face. Our mixed spit soon spread around our mouths and chins, and we rubbed our slippery noses together and licked each other's teeth and tongues and lips and ears and necks. Frankie lapped his wet tongue up the hairs at the top of my forehead until they were soaked enough that they almost stood up in a long-hair imitation of the way Frankie's much shorter hairs are up all over his head.
We grunted like a couple of wild animals, and after licking each other's faces, we always returned back to the kissing. I felt my balls tighten up a number of times and I tried to hold back from climaxing, but I finally couldn't stop the incredible feeling, so spectacular the world stopped turning. I had both my arms wrapped around Frankie's back when a hard stream of cum shot out of my boner like a strong beer piss! That's how long and hard the stream of cum was. I almost passed out from the sensations. My body froze in place, while cum seemingly screamed out of my boner on its own. Yeah, it felt like a scream of unimaginable pleasure.
What a sensation it is to spontaneously climax. A truly unbelievably fantastic experience, but it leaves me feeling slightly sick to my stomach, too. Only for a few seconds, though. I had to take fast, panting breaths as sweat popped out on my forehead and then a wave of shivers, and then came those fantastic after-climax effects moving out from my groin in all directions, my body shuddering.
Frankie smiled through our kiss when I was climaxing, humping my crotch up off the chair with all my moans and shivers of ecstasy. As soon as I calmed down, Frankie undid the snap on his cut-offs, and he pulled my hand to his big, dripping boner, and I jerked him off. It didn't take much for him to shoot a lot of cum onto my T-shirt, all around my chest and belly. Frankie was gasping from his climax, and then groaning in pain from his incision in the next breath.
We both calmed down after a bit and Frankie rested his chin on my shoulder and quietly said, "I've been missing you, too, Oliver."
I couldn't speak yet, so I just nodded, and Frankie slowly got off my lap and laughed because, once again, I was covered in both cum blasts. I said, "How am I going to walk through your house covered in cum? Look at the front of my pants." We got into a laugh-a-thon frame of mind, like the old days. Frankie laughed, then groaned from the pain in his side again. He was in more pain than he let on. Something wasn't right, but I couldn't put my finger on it.
Later Frankie dug up an old Pittsburgh Pirates T-shirt that was much too big for me, but it did cover all the wet cum spots. We laughed at how stupid I looked in that old raggedy, XXL T-shirt. When Frankie put his glasses back on, he seemed serious, "Let's get some fresh air, Oliver."
We left the hot garage, and I was feeling good, but a little apprehensive, too, and I don't know why. Frankie had that serious look on his face and it seemed like he was going to tell me something, but shook his head, and he didn't say anything. Back at his seat, behind the flowering shrub, Frankie grimaced and grabbed at his knee when sitting down. He had a bandage taped on the underside of his knee that I hadn't noticed before.
"What happened to the back of your knee, Frankie?" He looked away and again, shook his head slightly. When he looked back over at me, he had tears in his eyes. Brushing his eyes with the back of his hand he said, "I don't want to ruin our reunion, Oliver. It's nothing." He seemed so different from just a couple of minutes earlier, I felt fear for a second, so I murmured, "Please tell me, Frankie. I'm worried about you."
Frankie took a deep breath and then mumbled, "You're really the only best friend I've ever had, Oliver. I mean, except for Darleen, all these many, many years. She always said that she was my best friend, and to tell you the truth, that's getting pretty goddamn old by now. I hate like hell dropping all this dumb stuff on you, Oliver, but I've got to tell somebody, and I trust you more than anybody else to keep my secrets."
I'm thinking, what the fuck? Frankie went on to tell me, "First off, because of the appendectomy, I can't work, so right away Darleen's family assumes I'll be going with them to their summer vacation spot this Friday. It's the same shore spot you went to this summer, Wildwood, New Jersey. They'll stay there right up till the day before we have to come back to register for our college classes."
I nod, and he says, "Oliver, I don't want to go to the shore with them, but I have to because I don't want to hurt their feelings and because somehow, somewhere, I've got to start breaking the news to Darleen that I don't love her."
This was fabulous news for me, but I had no inkling of it, so I'm speechless again. I sucked a lot of air into my lungs and then let it out slowly and quietly, making sure I heard him correctly. Frankie was oblivious to my reaction, mumbling, "I have no fucking idea how I'm going to go about explaining this to Darleen, but maybe I'll get lucky, and something will develop or occur to me in Wildwood. At the very least, I need to lay the groundwork for breaking up with her. Oliver, you were right, I don't think I ever loved her."
His eyes filled up again, and he said, "She's been running my life for years, and I'm sick to death of it." I nodded as if I understood and agreed with everything he said, but it was all so unexpected it was difficult for me to absorb it. From my viewpoint, this news was fabulous, and it took a conscious effort not to break out with a huge smile or maybe a cheer with some applause. I didn't dare say or do anything like that because it was a major problem for Frankie. Not some trivial matter at all!
Frankie is a sweet guy, and he wouldn't like me dumping on or making fun of Darleen. As I was secretly feeling good about this turn of events, Frankie dropped the bombshell on me. He told me about the very serious and dangerous problem he had. Darleen was one thing, but this was the kind of problem that made me remember how life can suck if you're not very careful or wicked lucky. Frankie hadn't been careful or lucky with this. This one had to do with the money he owed Fallon.
Since he hasn't been able to work for Fallon the past week, reducing his debt, the debt increased because Fallon added on interest which Frankie called 'vig,' Plus, Frankie will be in Wildwood, unable to work anything off his debt the rest of the summer. He said, "I'll owe Fallon over two thousand dollars by the time college starts and it will then start going up five percent each week until I pay him back."
Two thousand was the original amount of the debt, and Frankie's been paying that crook, Fallon, most of what he earned all summer, and the debt is back to the original amount. What the fuck?
As he continued, tears of fear and frustration began rolling down his face. This was the first time I'd seen Frankie cry, and it was breaking my heart. He wasn't boo-hooing or anything like that, just the waterworks, but still very out of character for him, so I suspected that there was more to this situation. I had to concentrate on what Frankie was telling me because of his low voice. "When I called Fallon to tell him I'd had the operation he was pissed off, of course. No chance he'd give a shit about me, he cared only about himself and his money. I hate to think what he'd have made me do if I was with him when I told him."
I touched Frankie's arm, trying to be supportive. Frankie went on, "As I said, he was pissed off, and that's when he reminded me about weekly 'vig' that had to be paid weekly. He also decided that my debt was getting to what he called a dangerous level. He said I'd have to go out on what he called dates with men every college weekend. You know, with queer old men, and do whatever they wanted me to do. Fallon said that's the way I would work off the money I owed him. He wasn't merely suggesting this, he was telling me how it was going to be if I wanted to continue enjoying life with the living."
I could barely hear him say, "I told Fallon to go fuck himself, which made me feel good at the time. This all happened last night, Oliver, and then fifteen minutes later, I got your call, and reality started to set in for me. I was upset talking to you because you made me realize everything was for real. I knew how dangerous Fallon is and I was afraid you might be here when something bad happened and you'd get hurt."
After pausing to work up the courage to continue, Frankie said, "Fallon has a vicious temper, and I knew he didn't take lightly someone who owed him two thousand dollars telling him to go fuck himself." His hand was shaking, and he stopped talking again. He stretched his left leg out in front of him again and said, "Ouch, dammit, that hurts."
In a resigned voice, "That fucking Fallon sent two guys to see me while my parents were at work. Those two scum bags came right into my house and right up to my room. I couldn't believe it! They didn't even ring the bell. Just picked the lock and came right in."
He hiccupped a few times and then said, "Big, ugly, older men smoking cigars. I was petrified. They smacked my face, ripped off my PJs, and jerked me around like I was a fucking rag doll. That tore out a few stitches in my incision and hurt like mad. Then the fat one held me down while the other one burned under my leg, behind my knee, with his cigar until I passed out in pain."
When I came to, the fat guy said next time, they'd burn the head of my dick. At the time, I was screaming that didn't sound human. They waited, and eventually, I promised to do whatever Fallon wanted. Oliver, they were going to keep burning me till I promised."
I felt faint, unaware that things like this could happen outside of the movies, and to someone I know. Frankie said he put ice on the burn after the goons left. Then, disinfectant spray and the bandage, but it's burning like fire right now. Burns are a bitch.
Frankie's shoulders were shaking now, and he was crying silently with lots of tears. I was shaking like a leaf myself, but I hugged Frankie. I felt afraid for him, and for me, too, I guess. I'm not sure why I was scared for me. Mostly I felt a fit of murderous anger and rage, an iceberg of hate toward Fallon and those sub-human pieces of shit that had hurt Frankie. Red rage flashed through me, but I felt impotent and weak. What could I do to make them pay? Maybe nothing myself, but all of a sudden, I knew how I could protect Frankie from future dealings with them.
Hugging Frankie's shoulders, I said, "Fuck them, Frankie. You're not going on any dates with any old homo queer guys. Next week, I'll be in Seattle with my brother, and the first thing I'm doing is asking him to give me the two thousand dollars. He'll do it without asking why I need it. We need to do is get Fallon out of your life."
"Do you really think he'll give it to you, Oliver?" I squeeze him, "Yes, my brother makes a lot of money, he loves me, and he'll give me the money, no problem. It's not charity, Frankie. It's a loan that you can repay whenever. Twenty years from now, or thirty; whenever you want."
We hugged each other real tight. I wish I were stronger, but I was scared seeing him like this, but happy to give him hope. It took a while for him to get calmed down, Wiping his eyes, he said, "What I'd really like to do is kill that son of a bitch. He's made me do things with him that I can't even say out loud. I'm so ashamed and humiliated. Yeah, I want to kill that motherfucker!"
He was getting it all out of his system, I guess, and when the tears dried up, he muttered, almost to himself, "I feel like a pussy doing all this crying and carrying on." He looked into my eyes now and said, "Promise you won't tell the guys at work, Oliver."
I wasn't telling anybody anything, but I agreed with Frankie about one thing: I wanted to kill Fallon, too. He dropped his arms from around me and sat up, saying, "When I saw you walking toward me a little while ago, it brightened my world so much, Oliver! So much so that I was able to forget all my troubles and share kisses and stuff with you. Then reality overwhelmed me again, but you've given me strength and hope. Nobody has ever had a better best friend."
I was touched by his sincerity and proud I could do something positive for him. The money won't mean anything to Christain, while it means everything, even his life, to Frankie. We grinned at each other, and I told him I needed to start heading home. It was almost an hour's drive from here.
Frankie stood and said, "I lov, ah, you know, Oliver. I can't thank you enough." I nodded, mumbling, "I know," and we walked around a hedge and out to where my car was parked. So, I didn't need to go back through his house covered in cum or even wearing that stupid T-shirt. I pulled off the T-shirt and handed it to Frankie. Standing beside the Mini, Frankie told me that Darleen's family had lived in the house on his right but that they'd moved away a few years ago. He said, "When her Father started making big bucks selling insurance, they moved to a better neighborhood."
I drove home with the top down, feeling good that Frankie and I had our plans. We would meet at his school, West Chester University, and I'd give him the money to pay off Fallon. I had the car, so I was going to his school ten days from now. I wouldn't see him again until then, which sucks. Yeah, but I guess I better get used to not seeing him for at least a couple of weeks at a time because we'll be living at different colleges, and it was uncertain how often I'd be able to make the trip from the city to see him. We both understood that.
I basked in the knowledge that Frankie was beginning the process of dumping Darleen. The way she'd been manipulating his life amounted to emotional blackmail. I got home safely, and Frankie called me that night. He didn't come out and say it, but he was looking for reassurance that I could get the money. The thought of those two thugs returning had Frankie scared to death. I did everything I could to put his mind at ease, and before we hung up, he did seem calmer and even a little cocky about what he was going to say when he threw that money at Fallon. I liked Frankie acting cocky again.
Thursday, Pete was back at work after his day off, and seeing him brightened my spirits. He was bubbly and wanted to give me another 'Ricky special' fuck, but I was a little out of sorts because of Frankie's dangerous situation and begged off. Then, Friday was a cook-out/Bar-B-Q day in the company's parking lot. It was a farewell to the summer staff. There were too many people milling around all day for Pete and me to feel comfortable sneaking in a fuck. On the plus side though, all the summer staff personnel received a two hundred dollars bonus, which was super. Pete and I said goodbye without any real emotion. We liked each other, but mostly, we were sex buddies for a couple of days.
Everyone was very friendly to me, saying their goodbyes. Rocky said I had an automatic spot on the loading dock team next summer, and Mr. Brittle told me, "Frankie, I don't believe I've ever heard of anyone recovering from an operation as fast as you did. That shows what a loyal employee you are." I thanked him and smiled at Rocky. Ultimately, I wouldn't have hated the job even if Frankie hadn't been there because most people were great. Frankie, being there had made it a very, very special experience for me, to say the least.
I drove home and called Frankie, hoping he had yet to leave for Wildwood. His mom said he left a couple of hours ago and that he seemed much better after my visit on Wednesday, so she thanked me, "Whatever it was you said to Frankie, it sure picked up his spirits." After that, my thoughts turned to Seattle, Washington. I'd never flown before, and it was exciting thinking about it. Christian had given me a first-class ticket so that was going to be extra fun pretending to be rich.
My parents were not pleased that I was springing a surprise visit on Christian, but I made them promise not to ruin my surprise. I expect he'll make a big fuss over me. We're closer than most brothers and more affectionate toward one another than most brothers, too. Well, we've been through hell together. Christian was the main reason I managed to survive the death of my best childhood, and he got me through the guilt I had of being partially responsible. So, Christian and I have been kissing brothers for much of my younger life. Big deal, that's the way we are.
Dad said I wouldn't need to check a suitcase, just put my 'carry-on' bag in the overhead storage. Christian can buy me a sports coat if he wants to take me to a fancy restaurant or something. I should tell Dad that nobody gets dressed up nowadays. I'm excited and anxious to see my brother. I know, at times, I can get too mushy about how much he means to me and how much I love him, but it is what it is. Mostly, I'm just wicked excited about seeing him tomorrow!
The next day was the big one. Christain had arranged for a limo to drive me to the airport where my plane took on time. Because of the time change, I'm leaving at three o'clock in the afternoon and arriving in Seattle around six o'clock in the evening. I'm taking a chance that Christian doesn't have plans to go out tonight or, worse, that he'll already be out. If he's out, I have a key to his condo, and I'll let myself in and do some snooping around. My number one priority is getting the money for Frankie out of the way. Then, I want to come out as gay to Christian. I know he'll be supportive, and I'll feel relief knowing I'm being honest with him. number
The plane ride was long but very comfortable. There were big seats, and the cabin attendants were polite. My flight attendant was a middle-aged man who acted significantly affected and made me think that he was almost certainly gay. Our eyes met for a second, and I had the feeling he knew I was gay, too, even though I can't imagine how he would. The food was not special at all, and the movie sucked, so everything wasn't perfect. I fell asleep after eating and woke up when the plane bumped down on the runway in Seattle, Washington. My heart went thump, thump, thump with anticipation.
I'm here, and now all I had to do was get to Christian's condo, which was almost an hour's drive from the airport. I knew how to do that, too. Christian had sent me a limo voucher from the company he works for. I hand the Seattle limo company driver and tell him the address. It's as simple as that. Now, how do I find the Seattle limo driver to give the voucher to? Ask somebody, dummy. That's what I did, and in a short time I felt wicked cool, sitting in the back of a stretch limo with people referring to me as "Sir." Hot shit! This is fun!
It was raining, but I didn't get wet until the limo driver dropped me off in front of Christian's condo. All the condos had private entrances off the street. They looked like a block of attached three-story homes with brick fronts and decorative black shutters. There was a fancy-looking black, wrought iron fence separating each small front yard and big, heavy-looking front doors with oversized brass fixtures. It all was very expensive looking, with manicured lawns and gardens and the street lamps lighting up the brick sidewalks, although brand new, looked like they were gas lamps from the seventeenth century.
I hustled up the short front walk and rang the bell at number 707. Almost immediately, the door opened, and the top of a man's head peaked around from behind the door. He said, "Oh my God! C'mon, hurry up and get in here before you get soaked. You know you're early, right?" I'd never seen this man before, but it was Christian's address, so maybe this guy was a co-worker or a friend. I stepped inside, and the man closed the large front door. I was standing on an Oriental rug in a big foyer with a huge chandelier hanging from about twenty feet above my head. A wide staircase was directly ahead of me.
The man stood in front of me with his hands on his hips. He was about six feet, six inches tall, huge, and very muscular, like a bodybuilder, except with a lot of body hair. He was barefoot, wearing only a leather thong. His head was shaved like a Marine in bootcamp and he had piercings in each nipple, in each earlobe, and on the side of each nostril. I stared with my mouth hanging open.
He turned his head and called, "You're going to owe Felix a big tip for sending us this one, Chrisy! This twink is special, and right up your alley, too."
I said, "Huh?" and I heard my brother's voice shout back, "He's early. Do you want to get him undressed, and you do him first while I take a shower, or do you want me to skip my shower?"
Something is very wrong.
To be continued...
