Date: Sun, 26 Mar 2017 17:07:46 -0400
From: The Paternal Watcher <mfvb@protonmail.com>
Subject: Coffee shop boys, chapter 1

Working weekday mornings, Gary had come to detest the customers of the
coffee shop. He knew each one of them by face and by drink order, and there
wasn't one person on line that he wouldn't have throttled if he thought he
could get away with it. A couple more weeks of these fur-wrapped snobs
treating him like a servant, and he would either get fired for speaking his
mind, or arrested for giving in to his baser urges. Then, he'd be a
29-year-old unemployed guy living with his parents, which sometimes he
thought couldn't be worse. Luckily, a new manager trainee took over the
opening shift to learn the ropes, and Gary's schedule went from mornings to
afternoons.

Starting at two in the afternoon was much, much different. The high-powered
attorneys and bankers got their drinks first thing in the morning, and
their stroller-pushing wives, dripping with diamonds, used the shop to chat
a couple hours later. By the time Gary got there Monday afternoon, they'd
all cleared out.

"So when's the first rush going to hit?" he asked Max, the supervisor on
duty, as they smoked a cigarette out back.

Max looked at his watch. "High school kids start showing up about 2:30 or
3," he said in his gravelly voice. "Then we'll be cleaning this fuckin'
yard until closing. They're slobs."

"Are they as rude as their parents?" Gary asked in a half-whisper, not sure
if he should even voice his fear.

Max laughed. "You're working nights now, none of us are into the corporate
bullshit like on mornings. Don't be afraid to say what you think about
those assholes." As Gary smiled his acknowledgement, Max continued, "The
kids are mostly nicer, but they're used to people picking up after
them. They grow up with maids and don't have a clue."

Gary shrugged. "It's bound to be better," he said.

As Max predicted, the first kids started trickling in soon after the final
bell. The day was hot and most of them wanted frozen drinks, so Gary found
himself working the blender pretty steadily for the next hour or so. Some
people disliked the noisy monster, but he had learned that customers
couldn't talk to him over the machine, so they couldn't piss him off,
either. He often volunteered for blender duty.

When the first surge died down, Max sent him out back to clean up. "Get
used to the yard," he said, "because you're gonna spend a lot of time out
there on this shift."

The yard was fenced in, so the only way in or out was through the
store. Gary brought a bucket of warm bleach water and a rag with him, and
started wiping down empty tables and tossing empty cups in the trash. Max
was right about the mess -- in some cases, the kids would leave a table
covered in trash even when the garbage can was close enough to reach
without getting up.

He didn't mind, though. The day was hot and sunny, and the yard was filled
with the happy voices of teens relaxing. The chatter was a joyful hum in
his ears as he went about his work, but as he was picking up some napkins
on the ground, a remark from an adjacent table caused him to look up.

"How come girls don't like to suck dick?" a boy's voice asked. He was
sitting with three girls, and one of them caught Gary's reaction and
shrieked with laughter. The others turned to see what had gotten her
started, and the boy blushed a bit as he realized he'd been overheard by an
adult.

Gary laughed, too, and said, "You're not gonna change their mind that way!"
before turning to start on the next table. All four of the kids laughed
again.

"So how am I going to get my dick sucked?" the boy asked, full of bravado.

Looking back and smiling, Gary replied, "That's a professional secret. If I
told you that in front of your friends, we'd both be shit out of luck."
With a wink, he moved on with his work, figuring it might take the teens a
few minutes to understand what he meant by that.

It was a couple days later that the same kid came in with a friend, and
Gary made them both steaming mochas. "It doesn't make up for what you're
not getting," he told the boy with a wink, "but we don't sell that here."

He laughed, blushed, and said, "Shut up!" with a smile. He and his friend,
who was slightly taller and more muscular, were whispering together and
looking back at me as they headed outside.

The following Monday was a holiday, which gave Gary mixed feelings. He got
paid time and a half for working, but he had to work on a holiday. Soon
after his shift started at one, though, the kid came in and ordered a
drink. "Have you seen my friend Pete?" he asked.

"The one you were with the last time we talked?" Gary asked, and the kid
nodded. "Not today, but now I know who he is. If he comes in, what's your
name? I can tell him you're here."

"Oh, I'm Michael," he said with a smile. "And my friend's name it Pete."

"Yeah, you said that like two seconds ago," Gary replied.

He furrowed his brow as he remembered back, then smacked his head and said,
"Oh, right." Lowering his voice conspiratorially to a whisper, he
explained, "I'm a little high."

Gary laughed. "Sounds like you should get a job here when you're old
enough, you'll fit right in."

Smiling, he said, "Well anyway, thanks again. Talk to you later. . . "

". . . Gary," Gary finished.

"Gary. Yeah. Thanks."

About ten minutes later, Pete came through the door, but Gary almost didn't
recognize him. His hair, which was dark brown and had been growing almost
into a pompadour, was now bleached blond and moussed into spikes. "You're
Pete, right?" Gary asked, and couldn't resist adding, "or is it Ponyboy?"

He smiled like it wasn't a new joke. Obviously kids were still reading The
Outsiders in school, or at least watching the movie. "What's up?" he asked.

"Your friend Mike was looking for you," Gary said. "He's out back."

Pete nodded. "It's Michael," he said automatically, then added almost for
himself, "He's probably psyching himself up for another show." In response
to my quizzical look, he lowered his voice and said, "Michael's got the
biggest dick in our school, and he's always whipping it out to show
people."

Gary laughed, shaking his head as if he didn't care what those crazy kids
were up to. "Have fun with that," he said. "But if he doesn't stop at just
showing, you guys can bus your own damn table."

Pete's face contorted through a series of emotions. He looked puzzled for a
moment, but then realized what kind of mess Gary was talking about, and his
eyes went wide with surprise (revealing whites that were very, very red),
the turning into slits as he burst out laughing. "You're cool," he said,
and went out back, his shoulders still shaking a bit from the giggles.

As casually as he could, Gary filled up a bucket with warm bleach solution
and grabbed a rag. If this little kid was into exhibitionism, he thought,
there's no reason I shouldn't be in the audience. "I'm going to clean up
the yard," he said to his coworker, who nodded listlessly. He entered the
yard as quietly as he could, taking time not to let the door slam, and
started wiping down tables. There were about eight kids gathered near an
old maple that grew near the middle of the space, next to a table.

Gary moved to a second and then third table as the kids just chatted, doing
his best not to pay attention to them. For their part, none of them reacted
to his presence at all; servants were invisible in their world. When he got
to the fourth table, which was just a few feet from the group, he heard a
little sound that got his attention, like a collective intake of breath. He
looked to see Michael, now leaning against the tree, proudly displaying his
hard cock to the others. In the blink of an eye, it was back in his pants,
fly zipped, but then Michael noticed Gary standing there, his rag frozen in
mid-wipe, and smiled. The show resulted in some laughter, and then the kids
started breaking up into smaller groups. Two grabbed their book bags and
left. Michael walked over to Gary.

"Enjoy the show?" he asked, pride filling his half-changed voice.

Gary offered an upturned thumb. "I think I finally understand your
problem," he said, keeping his face serious.

"What's that?" the boy asked, his face showing that he wasn't sure where
this was going.

Gary lowered his own voice. "Girls take a look at that monster and think,
'no way is that going inside of any part of me.' Any girl your age would be
scared to suck your dick."

"That's so not fair," Michael replied. "I thought having a big dick was
supposed to be a good thing."

"Well it is to some people, but if you want head, you need to find someone
who won't be scared. Either someone who's seen plenty that size -- and yeah
it's big for a kid, but not like world's biggest -- or someone who will
take it on as a challenge."

The suggestion that his penis wasn't the Colossus of Rhodes seemed to take
Michael down a peg or two, but he wasn't entirely deterred. "Who is like
that?" he asked.

"You might not like the answer," Gary replied, then continued after a
pregnant pause. "Most adults who suck dick will have seen one as impressive
as yours," he said, trying to build the kid's ego back up a bit. "The ones
who will take it as a challenge, though, are probably gonna be dudes." With
that, he picked up his bucket and rag, and turned to head back inside
without waiting for Michael's reaction. I'll let him think about that, Gary
thought to himself.

About half an hour later, Gary was working the espresso bar when he saw
Michael again. He and Pete were headed for the door, but when Pete ducked
into the bathroom, Michael sidled up to the side of the counter around the
corner from the customer line.

"You're weird," he said, without preamble.

"Could be," Gary replied.

"There's no way I would do that," Michael told him.

"Didn't say you would. Did you want to order a drink?"

Michael rolled his eyes, affecting exasperation. "Whatever," he said and,
spying Pete, he left with the bottled blond boy in tow.

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