Date: Sat, 16 May 1998 15:26:59 EDT
From: DavisTrell <DavisTrell@aol.com>
Subject: The Twelve Monkeys
The Twelve Monkeys
by davistrell@aol.com
In Puerto Vallarta there are huts with thatched roofs open to the
air, a jacuzzi, gilt sand, waves that lick, breaking the azure ocean,
washing, eternally washing, always in motion. Spectacular sunsets, sangria
and tequila, blood orange. They don't show up in the photographs, the
brilliancy of the colors or the depth of the emotion.
Splishing and splashing. Lap, lap, lapping; I came down here to
Mexico, to get away from Mister Right. Becoming a pain in the ass, and not
on account of his cocksize. Yes, money's at the source of all evil, right!
Specially if you're the one with the stolen credit card. The bill
is five thousand dollars, HE's gone on a spree. I can afford it, but that's
not the point. He was a copywriter, at the ad agency Rancid & Blather, not
the agency's real name of course. But he is fired.
Anthony, called Ant, was into ACT-up, and taken as my guest, to the
mayor's meeting; used 'queer' as if the word was familiar in polite
conversation. The mayor was nonplussed; didn't faze him. That's why he's
the mayor, I suppose. Anthony managed to mess up, more times, and I didn't
want to be overprotective, but we left, me blaming all on a teensy weensy
too much champagne. Torn jeans so you can see his purple underwear, and a
black T-short with a Garamond "Q", that announces to the world he is, and
for that matter, what I am too.The tuxedoed supervisorst, and the society
ladies, waved goodbye as I left, and I wonder how long it would take for
them to start gossiping. Ant's spiky hair sticking through the yellow
bandana,laughed as we left, down the stone stairs, and the stone steps, and
even the stone lions were furious.
We argued in the car, over the Bridge, the Bay looked beautiful,
and we got home. Juanita the maid, had made the place, look it would pass a
mother's inspection. She'd left for the day, so the place was empty. Apart
from my expensive bric-a-brac.
Under the Keith Haring painting, we spooled on the hardwood floor.
I was still angry but some how that mood had shifted into another. The
trees still visible, as the sky was still up, but starting to cast twight
shadows. The window that leads to the balcony was open, as per
instructions, and you could hear the world outside, but it seemed far away.
I turned on the overhanging lamp, as the sky had turned ultramarinish
mauve, and soon the shadows would engulf us, till the moon did its duty,
providing its nocturnal coldness when skin turns to white, and bodies turn
into snakes.
"You want me, want me badly don't you?" says Ant, as he yawns, and
flicks on late Nite TV. My hand up his Queer T-shirt, running the tip of my
toungue along the cartilage at the back of his ear, then down his belly
then under his jeans, in the confines of his briefs, my fingertips find the
hairs that are lead to his penis, slightly hard, as my fingers and thumb,
touch and grasp, as I commence the nightly ritual.
"God help me, I want you...and badly..."
"Even if I fucked up in front of your friends..."
"It was a charity affair, they weren't friends..."
Goddam, he's prettier when he's pouty.
"And you're not queer...."
"Loving you is the queerest thing I've done."
I feel like I was dragged into court, and defending Oscar Wilde,
all over again. But this time we'll win.
"You're so full of shit..."
Anthony can be cruel, and doesn't mean to be kind.He doesn't reject
my touches, but he ignores my wandering hand, and gives no acceptance. He
surfed the TV. Lay in front of me, let me stroke his chest through the open
shirt. But as I pull off his jeans, its just the fluorescent screen that he
stares at. But he helps me somewhat, till his bottom half is quite naked.
Bleached platinum hair, hair looks like it's struggles. Skin as
white as a detergent ad claims. But all he hears is the Late Night Talk on
the TV, but the funny animals don't say much.
"Look at him, " says Ant, suddenly attentive. A star of some
reknown, at the start of what looks like a promising career. "Queer as a
two dollar bill. Look at him, all the little girls, think he's gonna fall
for one of them. We all know he's in bed with a lawyer, rich and fat, and
is kept on a leash. Fuckin' hypocrite queer."
"I wish you wouldn't use that word."
"Well it's what you are, are you ashamed. Let the mayor see what
your hand is doing on my cock. Got any weed?"
Yes, Juanita, has replenished the box, and the pipe cleaner and the
pipe, shinier than polished porcelain.I pass him the box, and gives me a
hit.
A scrawny super-model shows up to be interviewed, and as the host
warmly thanks her, Ant gets bored with the TV, and lets me, stroke him as
he inhales, and stars enter the bedroom.
I have Durers and Holbein etchings on the wall. Very expensive,
both the Dance of Death, peasants dancing with skeletons. Lucky I got them
when I did, as you know, they're all in demand now, but if I see another
AIDS poster use them, I'll, I'll...Ant's started to suck on my dick, all it
needs is to get him stoned, and he forgives me, forgive me Ant, forgive my
trespasses. As I forgive yours.
He took a another hit, and I joined him. He undid my pants, felt to
see how hard I was, and started to undress me. He's a littl effeminate,
can't hide it doesn't want to. His hair is blonde, but shorn and Spiky on
top, an earring, and a trace of mascara on the eyes.But his body still has
that boyish athleticism still. He's all of twenty two, and I'm early
thirties or so. We do Cutting-edge advertising, I interviewed him
personally. First thing he offered was to suck my cock. I declined, in my
office, looked through the folio, he asked was he hired, I said he was, we
discussed money, and he was shown to his cube.
Several meetings, we 'positioned' the agency, and how to get new
accounts, win awards, we needed a new approach. He was silent in most of
these, but when his copy came back, it had a meat in it, that the others'
lacked.
"Bite me!" He'd add, to my corrections.
We ignored each other in the elevator, in the corridors, by the
coffee machine, by the Men's room, in the cafeteria, down by the mainframe
buried in the vault, and mostly we avoided each other when thrust alone.
Apart from business, saw little of him. One night working later, heard a
rap on the door of my office. It was Anthony.
"You're here late..." he said as he sauntered in. The window glass
black, just the lights on the water, from the ships that silently tread
throught the night.
"It's the Pillfridge account, last minute changes. They want to
tone your line down."
"What's wrong with it?"
"too wordy..."
All had gone home, even the Chilean cleaners, the lights in the
floor were off, save mine. Just the Lamp on the teak desk. Littered with
laser-paper print-outs, doodles, ideas.
"lemme see.... shit, you've taken all the balls out"
"I had to, the client has the last word..."
"No wonder you lasted so long in the business..."
"I'm sorry, but you'll see, I didn't change much..."
"Yeh, shift a few commas, and earn the big bucks..."
Through the expansive window, in the remnants of a scarlet
embroidered sunset, lay Alcatraz, looking remote and forlorn. Needing
company.
"Can I buy you dinner? Farsino's will be closing, but they'll stay
open for us...if I call down."
Just across the street, Farsino's sign was out, and only a couple
of drunks at the bar.
"Hi, there," I said to Walden, an account guy, and someone from
Media planning. They seemed to move away, and said goodnight to the
bartender, who was cashing up, and they signed their tabs and slunk out.
Pablo, the waiter, came over. All beams and smiles, as he sat us at
the back table.
"I'm afraid, all we have left is the chicken..."
"Chicken will be fine, and you can recommend the wine, Pablo. Ok ,
with you Anthony?"
"Yeh, chicken. Seems appropriate, but call me Ant, though, can't
stand it, the full name."
"Hope you enjoy the food here, it's very good. Ant." Using that
name cropping for the very first time.
The waiter brought the wine.
"Very good, Pablo. Busy?"
"A good day, sir. We had Alain Carstairs, he seemed to be pleased
with the new menu. Said he'll give us three stars in his review. He had the
rabbit, I'm so sorry it's all gone. I would have valued your opinion, sir."
"There'll be other days, and rabbits breed, well like rabbits
breed.."
"Not one of Oscar Wilde's best. Look at him slinking away,
Subservient maggot, the cock sucking faggot, he was almost crawling up your
ass.."
Pablo fortunately had returned to the kitchen.
"How are you settling in? The City must be fun, I remember when I
arrived, so many new places, so much excitement, do you have a nice
apartment?"
"Yeh, on the Haight."
"Room mate?"
"None of your fucking business."
The chicken arrived, and Pablo, gave me a wink.
Ant riposted with an attractive scowl.
"This is Pork, the other white meat..."
"I'm so sorry, ...sir, but the chicken, how might I say...seemed
inappropriate...But it's very good, I'm sure sir will like it..."
Anthony dug in, and I did the same, but with better table manners.
Across the street, I could see the poster, in the window of the
tourist agency, and I could still make out the words, "Come to MEXICO, the
sunnier, the better."
I didn't book a hotel in advance, just stepped onto the clouds on a
United American, not long enough for a movie. Hadn't brought the Laptop.
Left no messages. I wanted to be alone. I stared out the window, just blue
sea, and an azure sky. You could die out there, and no one would see you.
At the airport, I stepped into the first taxi, said I needed a
hotel.
Away from the concrete tombs, they call them, where the tourists
stay. I gave him twenty, and the twenty minute drive, through the sunset
shrouded streets.The lights in the town blazed, and the sound of the music,
even the cabbie was drumming rustacados on the windshield.The cab bounced
on the cobblestone streets, and on the cement that was the bandstand, I
guess, a mariarchi band were still playing and the gay couples walked with
a blisterigly beautiful sunset setting over the flat placid ocean.I'll like
it here I can tell, already.
He pulled up in a darker part of the town, but still at beachside.
"Welcome to the Twelve Monkeys senor."
And there they were all twenty of them, monkeys with questionmark
tails, hugging their wooden frame, painted on the sign. Palm trees made a
roof and you could still see the stars out.
Not a hotel. I had chosen the taxi wisely. Fourteen chalets, a
pool, and a bar still open.
A senora, long past her bedtime, gave a fat smile, and took my
passport, and showed me which and what to fill in, making emphatic stabs
with her pen. She yelled for a Pablito, and a nine year old boy, came out
of the shadows, of the hut, that was where the visitors sign in or out.
The dusky boy took my bag, I signed the books, was given a key, and
followed the sundarkened Indian boy to the small house. Room for one bed, a
bathroom, white walled, and a fan, that didn't seem to be making too much
noise. And a crucifix. The bags brought in, I gave the boy, a dollar.
"Gracias, Senor, will that be all?"
"I can still get a drink, at the bar?"
"Oh, Buenas Noches, senor, they'll be open for three more hours,
or till the last customer has left..."
He left, as I unpacked. Put a fresh shirt on. The other cabins,
sorry chalets, were interspesed at a discreet distance protected by palm
trees, but all of the lights were out. I walked over the soft ground the
sandy path, to the bar by the pool.
"Senor?"
A man who looked as if he could be Pablo's cousin, and probably
was, eager to please me.
"Red wine, just a glass."
"Si, senor. Tequila?"
He poured two glasses. It was quiet at the small bar, just a large
elderly man, with his large elderly wife, with a primrose summer frock,
that concealed more than it revealed thankfully, about sixty, and she was
looking at me. I raised my glass, and they both returned the gesture, I
swallowed the tequila, a sharp trickle, while they resumed talking about
whatever it was, my arrival had interrupted. A soft guitar somewhere
playing. And the last rays of the sunset, as the sea, dark and broody, took
a dying smile.
I got up, and walked, to the pool. No one in. Calm, and restful.
I never felt more alone.
"Buenas Noches, senor, I see you have settled in, and admiring
the pool. We have taken the piranas out. If you care for a midnight
swim, please be our guest."
A nineteen year old male, a dusky maiden, stepped from shadow, of a
palm tree. dressed in green shirt, white pants, emphatic against the olive
dark skin. That's what a winsome smile is!. I had always wondered what that
meant, and now I know!
He sauntered toward me, with slow steps, tossing his black hair
back occasionally.
"Me illarmo...sorry, ...call me Nando, short for Hernando. Hernando
Basquilia. My mother owns the 12 monkeys, she is embarrassed by her
English, so I meet the guests. We are so glad you made your stay in Puerto
Vallarta...how you say, ...in our hands. Your room is to your comfort. The
fan none too loud? It is a most beautiful night, is it not, senor?"
He walked over, toward me, the short sleeves, the stong brown arms,
the long legs, calves poking out, he caught my eye wandering, over his
supple form. I'm in advertising, so heaven forgive me
"No, everything is perfect, my bedroom, the view, the moon...?"
"And the tequila?"
"Better than they import back home..."
"Tequila not a traveller..."
He made moves like a diver does, those excersises they call warming
up, just before the big leap.I could just watch, but I thought I'd better
say something. Something SENSIBLE.
"But you, you have been to America? Your english, well, you know,
you don't need me to say.."
"Yes, I have been to America, Maryland. To study theology. I am to
be a priest."
Cold water down the spine in moonlight, would've scratched me
better.
Nando, you are so perfect, just, the opposite of Anthony; sorry,
Ant.
I watched the bartender leave, as Nando sat on his haunches, and
all I could do was to tear at a thumbnail. He has a smile of a choir-boy
who's just itching to be thrown out of the choir.
"At the moment of course I am just a novice. This is the last
summer before I take my final vows...."
---
"So a price of a meal, you get to suck my cock? If they'd had the
rabbit, I'd've had to let you in my ass?" Ant took a bite from the other
white meat, rather renaissance fashion. He was insolent, but I hope I was
at his age. I was beginning to like the boy.
As I signed the visa receipt, watching Pablo's raised eyebrow, I
added extra tip, from my wallet, so it was 'real money' rather than
nebulous tip the restaurant's call euphemistically 'service'. accountant.
"Why, thank you sir. Please let us have the pleasure of your
company again soon.."
"Yeh, but don't bring your friend." said Ant, pulling the t-shirt,
so the big pink Q was easier to read under the drab black vest, with frayed
edges, it's the grunge look, the one that takes fashion notes from Bus
graffitti. An urban demographic with no automobiles.
We entered doen the steps, to the parking garage, lit in film noir,
just the clack, clacking, walking sounds reverberating with suspense.
We reached to the car; the agency had to buy four to win the
account; I got the bronze one.
"You'll ride me home after? After I cum on the white leatherette in
the backseat?."
"Get in Ant, in the front. Shut up for a while. My ears hurt."
All the way, down through Cow Hollow, all along Lombard, we passed
the midnight softball, on Chrissy Field, way down toward the Bridge. World
Famous, red-orange not gold, over the Golden Gate reaching out to Marin.
Ant was quiet, but I didn't stop him as he stroked my thigh.
No music, just cars passing, a sprinkling of rain on the
wind-shield, trickling tiny tears.
I accelerated through the rainbow tunnel, bright and tired, hearing
the squeal of tires, echoing accompanied by whoops, and shouts, from those
cars with the windows down.
"Your palce is like an eagle's nest on a mountain top." said Ant,
not content with my thigh, was energising my cock.
"Never thought of it, like that, but it's true. The houses and
pines, sort of hide that, and the others, join into one spine. But mountain
is right. But hardly a castle. No ivory tower, modest, but admittedly
expensive. But you'll see.We'll be there in three minutes,"
"And you'll have me out in ten, that the idea?"
"No little Ant, you'll be there a lttle longer than that. I'll
shower with you in the morning, take you to breakfast, and get you to work,
at the usual time..."
"Yeh, but I bet we won't enter the building together, scared of
wagging tongues, in the agency."
"This is the only tongue you should be afraid of," and I showed how
long mine was. Longer than some men's tools are, so I've been told.
---
I had to make sure a crew wasnt there, shooting us for a Tacos
commercial.
"I didn't bring any swimwear..."
"You are asking permission to swim naked? This is Mexico, Senor,
not America. Of course, you may. In fact, it's such a hot night, I will
join you. A man is seen best naked; don't you concur?"
Nando's hair was not so long, but black as raven wings. He
unbuttoned the thin green cotton shirt, no stains in the armpits, and the
tight white pants, flared at the calves, his sandals flipped off, and he
bent, thumbs in the waistband, and his butt revealed by soft moonshine.
The bar closed its light and the elderly couple, waddled off, arm
in arm, to their chalet, not before the old lady blew a kiss to Nando, for
goodnight.
"The Albequerques, from New Mexico. They keep coming back." The
zippers on bananas dont come down so easily as Nando peeled down his pants,
and wore no underwear,as I learned later, pants are washed daily. and often
not worn at all.
The revealed cock dangled between his legs, browner than the rest
of him, and no tan-line. The tangle of black hair, under his firm belly,
the sunken navel, and chest, would grace any cabin calendar on a gay
cruiseship. He waited while I stripped. Was he watching me? I had nothing
to be ashamed of. And something of which to be proud. The gymnasium is
provided, free of charge, I've used the weights, and kept in shape. Not
like Ant, who excersises not, and is soft, but still keeps his boyish
frame, still attractive, but no need to think of him now.
"That's better, now you're free, you can swim. But first go to the
bar, bring back two glasses, and a bottle of Tequila, one that's been
opened, its not locked, I have that responsibility."
Nando sat on the side of the pool dipped his legs in the water,
breaking the moon into a thosand rippling shards.
"Go, go mister Gringo, you've looked at me long enough."
I returned with the essentials and two limes. I poured out two
glasses, and tried not to disturb, the drowned sleeping worm at the bottom
of the thick glass bottle.
He threw his drink back, and rubbed his lithe chest, licked his
lips.
"Hot drinks in a hot climate; Iced beer in Minnesota?
"Contradictions abound don't you think?" He indicated I should dramatically
drink.
I threw back my Tequila, I was looking for love not contradictions.
I joined him, sitting, and too dangled my legs in the cool water. I know
what I need to do next, but wonder if in Mexico, it would be considered
impolite. Well, it was worth a try. I placed my fingers on his hand. But he
didn't pull it away.
"If you know what I'd been through recently...I dont really want to
swim. What would you say, if I were to wonder, if you'd care to escort the
Tequila back to my chalet. I haven't had chance to test the bed..."
He looked back with those handsome brown eyes.
"You one of those men that wishes sex with men, no? And I attract
you. So much is evident. You have produced a noble erection. But I must
disappoint, senor. I am to be priest, remember. "
You dont look so, priestly, more like one of the devil's angels.
"One more tequila, por favor," he said with a toothpaste Ad smile,
as he proffered his glass.
"We can be friends, can't we, Nando?"
"Yes but careful, no accidental 'touches' or I will leave. Salud."
"This place is a true wonderment, so beautiful, peaceful and
calm. But of course you were brought up here." I said, merely of something
to say, as what I wanted to say had been placed off-limits.
"The cathedral of Puerto Vallarta, goes back to the turn of the
century. When I was but a bawling infant I was dedicated, by mama with
great pride to the Virgin of Guadalupe, she had been lain barren by her
feckless husband, my father, and she swore then,if she conceived I was to
be a priest.
She lay me on the altar and splashed me with Holy Water in the
presence of the Bishop. Then she had seven more sons.They will be garage
mechanics, or to California, to be field hands. You do understsnd,
senor?"
He positively beamed in the moonlight, and swiveled his arms raised, his
hands held behind his head, and his abdomen muscles swayed, as he turned
toward me, away, then back again. I held my hands together on my knees as
if holding a prayer book. He let out a sigh, as if his excersise had tired
him. His penis, totally unaware of my prescence.
"What will you do in confession, when a young man is there, and
says Father, I have a grievous sin. I have had carnal knowledge of my
brother?"
"I will ask if the masturbation was mutual, if fellatio had
occurred, and had he transgressed so far as sodomitic intercourse. I would
give appropriate number of Ave Marias, and Nunc Dimmittus, and the Lord's
prayer. And the obligatory lecture from Leviticus."
I'm protestant, I have never been to confession.
---
We turned down Jack's lane, I opened the garage, we used the door
that leads to the hall. Ant stopped to admire himself in the gilt mirror.
His peroxide bleached hair, he adjusted a few tufts. He saw the bronze
satyr, on the hall stand. From Herculaneum, originally.
"What? Do you rub him off for luck?", chuckled Ant, "He looks
rather tarnished round the cock. You've almost wore the bronze off."
Ant followed me cautiously as he took it all in. A large room,
with two walls, with a few paintings, just glass, the others, looking out
down through the wooded hill away from the ocean but still on huge body of
water, the Bay. Partly emerging from one window was the slatted balcony,
where if brave you can see the Bay even more intimately and the the
thousand feet drop or so, down below, to sea-level
"Can I get you anything. Juanita the maid always replenishes the
refrigerator, with fresh vegetables and the like."
"Any ice-cream? Anything but that Breyer's! I may write their copy
but I'm not eating their mashed potatoes."
"No, we have gourmet gelato, or honey-ripple, praline and Aereo
cookies. Help yourself. We do have spoons!"
He'd dipped in his two gun fingers, and was licking the spillage as
if my cock was already in his mouth. He investigated the none-freezer part
of the fridge, bending so to show his twin basket-balled ass. Little
threads hung from the tight ridged seams.
"No fucking hamburger. You a vegan as well as a queer?"
"Homosexual, as I prefer."
"That's just old latin, for a butt-surfer, ass-bandit, cock-sucker,
why don't you call yourself what you are. You hired me, you read my
resume, you saw what I wrote, in the sex box, I just didn't tick it off,
let the snoopy bastards, know."
"A simple 'yes' would have sufficed. Come sit with me, bring your
icecream, but dont spill it on the afghan; Juanita will have a paroxysm."
I moved to the oyster sofa, calmly waiting while he finished
eating. Wiping his mouth, with the back of his hand. Soon, I will have the
ice-cream, taste too. With my finger, I indicated, him to come over, where
I was sitting. and turned the coil lampstand, and used it as a spotlight.
Anthony peeled down the yellow T-shirt, and unfastened the belt, and the
black jeans slipped down, he stepped out the legs, turned around, and
slowly realed the pink peaches, from out of the purple-tigerskin briefs,
till he was fully exposed under the naked white-light's glare.
He did so, so perfunctorily, I need a little more romance.
"Let's go out onto the balcony? You'll like the view..."
We stood out, out on the dark shining water, just like the first
two did, who stood on that hill over there, and saw what we saw, and if
they too would celebrate, as I will.
"Whats down there, then, out on the water, little light, boats?"
"Fireflies dancing on water" It was a warm night, no fog rolling
in, I held my arm around him, and he seemed perfectly happy with my hand
round his waist.
I turned Ant away from the view, held him into my body.
"Time to taste whatever ice-cream flavor you guzzled down"
"Boy flavor. Yeh, I'll give you a taste, boss."
While I held him by his buttocks, I tried the flavor that Brayer's
will never pin down. His skin had little pricks of gooseflesh, so thought
it best to take him inside. He lay on the oyster sofa, sprawled, his legs
opened wide.
I went to a bureau, and pulled out a pearl-handled comb.
I went over and sat on the only cushion, that was available.
Ant looked at the comb, an antique, not cheap, that they say once
belonged to Abraham Lincoln's lover.
"Let me comb your hair. You're a little untidy."
"Hey this is the look, Im even thinking of shaving it all off."
"It's not that hair I refer to."
The teeth of the comb ran through his pubic hair, and at every
brush-stroke, his cock got that little bit harder.
A simple implement. But the greatest of aids to seduction
---
As we walked to the chalet, Nando carried, the tequila, two finger
hold on the glasses, while I held my clothes over my arm, like a waiter.
"Tonight, mister gringo, we will pray, before you sleep, and in the
morning, we shall play tennis."
We entered the sparse room, with Indian rugs hung on the wall. A
simple taciturn bedframe, and a mattress, light brownm with an Inca
reminder, that not all had died. A place where a copy writer might die.
"Goodnight, senor. it has been a most pleasant evening."
"Do you really need to go...?'
He waited at the doorway, brown and delightfully naked, but
hesitated, most indecisive.
"Very well, gringo, but only to pray. We will pray together, kneel
together at the foot of the bed, before...the crucifix....it's gone!"
"Perhaps, the maid is cleaning it..."
---
No need for curtains, the greeny boughs allowed enough of the
mysterious moonlight that seeped in, through the tall glass windows. My
bedroom, and I lay on the pomegranite patterened sheet, and lay on my side
of the bed.
Anthony turned on the bedside light, and opened the drawer, where I
kept the essentials. Perks of advertising, though I can easily afford them,
I avoid having to buy the products with the outlandish names.
And Ant had discovered them, and rummaged through them, as if
looking for a bargain in a yard-sale.
"You got Ramseses Sheik condoms, Osiris, nice package, whats this,
penile lubricant, Oily Joe? That your idea for a name?
Then there's 'Ilium', for the slender size man....
Whats this? 'Rub-da' stuff', oh a lubricant...whats these jelly
things, look like a refuge from a Phish concert, oh I see, they're cocks!
What else you got stashed in here? President Clinton's lookalike dildo?"
I actually enjoyed him looking as I ran my hand over his flanks and
bare buttocks. But felt obligated to explain, as I had a hand in the
designs, a little left over moonlighting, for a private client, aquired
when I too was a junior copywriter.
"Just concepts, I'm not proud...they sell..."
But Ant dragged out the entire drawer, and spilled the contents
over us, and like a magpie, grabbed at every item, then carelessy cast
aside, as he searched, robbing the nest of the novelties.
"Wow, check out these red colored condoms, Rusty Blasters, cool
enough for Wired. I like the Lightning Flashes..."
"Will you put one on, or pass one over and shut up?"
Made feel like my authority was something worthwhile, when he
promptly stopped talking, and brushed off the paranephelia. All was left
was my erect cock standing up.
"So this is what all the fuss is about. What, seven inches,
tops..the guys in the mailroom, have a pool riding on that..." He saw my
face," I'm JOKING, man! What I always liked about you, was you had a sense
of humor..."
Anthony came round, the long way round the bed, and hopped on me
like a jockey ready for her first gymkhana. The ones, where you, chase over
fences, and steeples, and if you're lucky you, dont fall off.
He sat on me, my dick curved on his ass crack. He leaned over, and
whispered in my ear.
"This'll be the first time...you gotta be gentle...all the rest was
bullshit...but you better be good, or I ain't coming back again.."
A threat or a promise? It turned out to be both.
My hands reached to his up-ended buttocks, let his knees sink wide,
let our cocks rub together, like seal-pups, getting aquainted.
"All that talk...well you sounded..so experienced..."
"...well cocksucking, but well, never brave enough for the 'Rusty
Blaster', but there's something about wealth of this place, is just a pure
hard-on turn-on..."
"I can't tell when you're lying..."
"When I say ouch, you'll know that its hurting...."
I lay him down on the bed, like an empty dress, the rough toy, that
the ones I was always not allowed to play with. His slender shaft, in my
hand, a cupid arrow, and that smile that would make a greeting card green
with envy. First I'll kiss him, then I'll suck him, and when he's ready,
I'll fuck him and not give a damn if he says ouch or not.
---
We knelt by the bed, like an older brother, and younger giving
thanks to god and running through the family names, as if they were still
familiar. He had a big family, apparently as noislessly his lips spelled
out the name that he was asking forgiveness for.
He crossed himself across his bare breast, first a a finger
touching his forehead, then his navel, left sholder, then right, finishing
at the pit of his throat, and a final flourishing reverential bow. To an
absent Jesus. The one I'd slipped in the dresser drawer earlier.
"What did you pray for Senor?"
"Hopefully for the same as you did." That made Nando bow his head
again but not without first giving me a blushing mischevious smile. But he
raised up, to go. I turned grabbed onto his firmly but gently, and pushed
my tongue in between, the butt-crack, and he didn't atempt to pull off.
"You are tempation, senor," he turned around and I could clearly
see his cock was hard. We both turned to the wall, to the pale silhoutte,
where the crucifix, used to be, but now, hidden from sight.
Nando put both his brown hands on my head, and guided, onto his
shaft, and I tasted,as he slipped the brown cock, while my lips rolled back
his silky foreskin. Nando, closed his eyes, lolled his head back, and his
hips in my hands started their humping.
"You will buy me a sombreo, and Poncho at the FleaMarket
tommorrow. All the tourists go there.Fine baubles, Indian Bead jewellry,
sandals and thin cotton pants. Miy mama is a part owner, I will teach you
to love Mexico..."
He pushed me up, and onto the bed, we lay so I could suck his cock,
and he held my long shaft, and rubbed his lips on the head, and a tongue,
guided my maleness in his mouth. And to the sound of lap, lapping, cresting
waves, held each other in a sinous bobbing of heads, as the early morning
sea-gulls cawed for the fishes to wake up, and be swallowed.
His skin wine dark, his black angel hair tousled on the pillow.
"You have brought precautions, senor?"
Its then that I kissed him, hard on his mouth, his body arched up,
against mine. Then he gave in, and my black hearted fingers, did their
work. And I showed him the Rusty Blasters.
---
"You're so heavy...all your bigness...go on, Mr advertising man,
try to crush me.."
Anthony seemed small under me, the underside of his thighs,
flattened under my torso, knees crooked over my shoulders, making a halo
with his feet around my head. As I pushed inside him, I felt his heels
crush my hair, and on the outstroke felt him sigh momentarily till I pushed
in again, Pulling and pushing faster, and harder and quickly and faster,
and harder till sweat bathed him, my cock punching into him, delivering
mighty blows, and the energised smile as finally he felt me cum inside
him. His sphincter, clamped arond the condom sheath, as wanting to feel as
much as the latex allowed.I withdrew, slowly from inside him, till the
condom tip, was visible, full of whiteness, and I pulled it off slowly,
trapped the opening ring under the bedside lamps heavy base.and spread my
fingers over his ejaculation spilt on his belly. I got a paper napkin, and
wiped him, turned him over, and tongued his rosebud hole as if I was still
fucking him. Bright and dark like the rainbow tunnel, only thirty or so,
minutes before I'd penetrated, and my windows were dowm , and I too felt
like yelling.
After about a three week period of casual dates, and more sex than
I had known before, and no ugly words in the Agency, I let him move in. He
doesn't need his own room. And I even let him choose his side of the bed.
I've even gotten him to wear suits, white ones, with silk linings. He got
promoted, and all down to his own endeavors.
To bed, he came eagerly, but waited only after the latenight talk
shows, but he stopped 'outing' his fellow travellers.
But then the disaster, in the offfice, I got the Visa bill. I'd
overspent $5000, and as I keep track of my purchases, I called Anthony in,
and promptly fired him. The lame protestations, fell ill on my ear.
---
Down in Mexico, I came into Nando, for the third night on the warm
night, that had slipped unnoticed into morning.
My cock, ejaculsting in the sheath, held tightly inside the warm
cave, where in primitive times, were the only place to worship.
Nando rolled me over, covering me with licks and kisses.
"So much for the priest hood, I think I should apologise to your
mother, she'll be mad, but she'll have to confess to another brother."
"Not priest, senor, civil engineer, you must have misheard. I
will build bridges, between America and Mexico...."
But you said..."
"Yes, indeed, I went to Maryland, but stress and torque tension
strengths, of metal stuctures, was what I studied..."
"But..what about not 'touching'...I feel like a fool now..."
"No dupe, senor, it is 'trust' I was testing, if you had touched
me, a without first having my permission, I would have walked away, it is
the true meaning of machismo, it is honor, and you indeed you are a man of
machismo..."
Nando's smile infuriated me, so with limp cock, drained now, I try to fuck
him again, and as our hips ground into each other, neither came, but it was
the best fuck of the evening.
Each night he came into my chalet, and each morning, left with the
dawn. We went round the sights of Puerto Vallarta, and I purchased
souvenirs, and fine meals.
Then late one evening, I happened to see him, flirting with another
fool of a tourist. I listened, and heard Nando say he was to be a priest,
and saw the Mexican youth undo the touris's fly, and commenced to give the
tourist the sacrament, while the tourist moaned, and said how beautiful it
was down here in Old Mexico.
I left in the morning, Nando put my bag in the taxi, and I didn't
look around, to see if he was waving as the taxi drew off.
---
But I felt replenished on the plane, on the way back, lost in
thought. Deplaned, and went through the airport corridors, and at the
exit, who should be there but the brute, Anthony.
He ran through the crowd of waiting friends for the arrivals, some
may have been sweethearts. There were kisses and hugs, and gifts of
pinatas, and straw sombreros. As I got through the gate Anthony broached
me, and I couldnt avoid him, weighted down with baggage and luggage.
"The cops. They found out...how it was done. They'd found the
hacker ring that had got your credit card number from your computer..."
"It wasn't you?"
"It was never me. But I guess you had cause not to believe me. I
was wild. But poor, and honest, that's me."
He hugged me, and we walked out, to the lot, where the cars waited
patiently for their masters.
"You drive, Ant. Its the least I can do."
"You look rested. And horny I hope. By the way we won the cruise
line account, whattaya say we accept their offer, take a few days off. I
feel like going down to Mexico. I've never been."
I have. But we won't stay at the Twelve Monkeys, I think.