Date: Thu, 14 Sep 2000 11:38:27 -0700
From: Desert Guys <jg.ps@gte.net>
Subject: Jim and Jimmy chapter 15

Jim and Jimmy
A novel by Greg Bowden
jg.ps@gte.net

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

"He told me to be happy and to love someone."


By October the conversion of the warehouse to condominiums was progressing
nicely. David had come up with some very innovative ideas and had designed
each unit so that it was different from all the others. He'd also
recommended a contractor he liked and who would do as he wanted and not try
to cut corners. "These places won't be for everybody," David had said to
Jimmy, "but they will reek of quality. Quality always costs more but the
people we're building them for can always tell quality."

Jimmy and David were spending more and more time together, both on the
condos and socially. Jimmy had stopped going to the back room bars and sex
clubs, in fact he'd pretty much given up sex. As he had when he was a
teenager, he even stopped jacking off for a while but then he began to have
wet dreams. The dreams were always the same: he was having sex with
someone, usually some man he'd seen that day, on the street or in an
elevator or somewhere. All the time they were having sex there was another
man, one who's face he couldn't see, watching them, urging them on. When
the man under him came, Jimmy was never ready, no matter how hard he
tried. Then the faceless man would reach out and touch him, setting off an
intense orgasm.

When he woke Jimmy knew that the faceless man was Doug. All the longing and
pain would come back then, to haunt him for days afterward. After several
weeks of the dream he began to masturbate again, hoping to stave it off. It
worked and, to his surprise, he began to feel some pleasure in doing it,
too.

One evening just after Thanksgiving Jimmy and David went to dinner together
after a long meeting with the condo contractor. As they were finishing
their main course Jimmy mentioned that he'd had a letter from his
father. "I told you about Shareff's daughter and how he felt about her
being close by, didn't I? Well, he's solved the problem. They bought an
island damn near half way around the world from her. How's that for
avoiding someone?"

David laughed. "Better than I could do. Where is it?"

"Off Barbados, in the Caribbean. It's called Clear Harbor. I think maybe I
saw it once, when Doug and I were on that cruise." It was still hard even
to say Doug's name but sometimes he forced himself to do it, hoping it
would get easier.

"Must be quite a spread if it's anything like that place in Turkey you told
me about."

"Not really. Dad says the old house has been torn down. I got the
impression they'll be building from scratch. I mean, they have to have
servants quarters, don't they?" He paused for a moment, thinking. "Hey, why
not you?"

"Why not me what? You want dessert?" The waiter was hovering with dessert
menus.

"Of course I want dessert. It's my only vice." He waived the menu away and
ordered chocolate mousse pie with raspberry sauce. David ordered the apple
tart which Jimmy insisted he have with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.

"Yea, I think you're just the one to do it." Jimmy poured the last of the
wine in their glasses.

"Jimmy, will you stop talking to me like we're in constant telepathic
communication? I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

"Clear Harbor. You're just the man to design it."

David snorted. "Sure. Your zillionaire-whatever he is, father-in-law?
Whatever. This guy is going to hire me to design his little beach cottage?
Somehow I doubt it, not with I.M.Pey still alive."

"Nonsense. You're as good as that Pey guy." He sat back so the waiter could
serve the dessert and coffee. "Look, will you at least talk to them? Show
them what you've done?"

David sighed and tasted his apple tart. "You were right, it's better with
the ice cream." He had to admit that the idea of doing a house in the
Caribbean intrigued him. He was sure there'd be a lot of problems to solve
but, with the right owner, the design possibilities were endless. He was
also sure that Mr. Agizz was not about to pick an unknown designer, no
matter what his lover's son said.

A week later David had a visit from two men who seemed very knowledgeable
about his work and wished to discuss it in detail with him. Two weeks after
that he was sipping champagne in the first class cabin of a 747 bound for
Istanbul. "I still can't believe how fast this all happened," he said to
Jimmy who was sitting beside him, sipping a very dry martini. "For that
matter, I'm not sure I can believe it happened at all."

"Believe it, David. They really like the stuff you've done. Shareff almost
came on himself when he saw that bathroom down at the lake. Now relax. It's
a very long flight."

Shareff sent his small plane to take them from Istanbul to the little
airport Jim had built and Ishmael and the Rolls met them there. Jimmy
wondered if Ishmael, who was flowering into a very beautiful man, was still
shaved smooth.

Dalton met them at the door to the house. "How nice to have you with us
again, sir," he said, taking their bags from Ishmael. "Will you and
Mr. Langford be..." Jimmy shook his head. "Very good, sir. I've put you in
the gray room if that's satisfactory? Mr. Langford will be in the blue
room, just next door. Now I believe your father and Mr. Agizz are waiting
for you on the terrace."

It was a typical December day on the Aegean, sunny and fairly warm if you
stayed out of the wind. They found Jim and Shareff in a sheltered area
where they could watch the sea.

Shareff came forward and hugged Jimmy. "It is good to have you with us." He
turned to David and held out his hand. "Mr. Langford. It is so good of you
to come at such short notice. We do appreciate it. Come, join us."

Jimmy was hugging his dad. "It's good to see you," he whispered in his
ear. "I love you."

They spent the afternoon with small talk and after an early dinner Jimmy
and David went to bed, tired from the long flight. For once Jimmy went
right to sleep, not even opening his book. It took David a while longer. He
stood at his window for a long time, looking past a small wedge of garden
and out to the sea beyond, wondering what was in store for him. He was
surprised when there was a knock on his door but he welcomed the brandy
Ishmael brought to him. He also welcomed Ishmael.

The next morning was spent touring the house and gardens. "We don't want a
copy of this," Shareff said, indicating the house around them, "but it may
help you to see how we live here." David was a little overwhelmed. It was
going to be a bigger project than he had ever expected.

After lunch, while Shareff and David sat on the terrace discussing
architecture, Jimmy and his dad went for a walk. "Are you happy about this
island thing?" Jimmy asked, taking his dad's hand.

"Yes. Very." They walked in silence for a bit, enjoying being close. When
they reached the top of a small knoll Jim turned and looked back at the
house. "It's a beautiful place, Jimmy, but it's Shareff's. He built it and
no matter what I do to put my stamp on it, it's still... his. Clear Harbor
will be ours."

"But Clear Harbor will be a beach place, won't it? Just a place to get away
to?"

"I don't think so, Jimmy." He laughed. "Not as long as Marta and Anton are
living in Ankara anyway." He turned and they started down the low
hill. "But beyond that, we've found that we both like the tropics,
especially in winter. Today is lovely but often it storms and is very
cold. Neither of us likes that." He squeezed Jimmy's hand. "It happens when
you get old."

"Yea, I've noticed what a doddering old man you've become. A doddering old
man with a gorgeous ass and legs to die for. Not to mention the other
stuff." Jimmy made a playful grab for his father's crotch.

"Hey, careful there. We'll scare the sheep."

"More likely the shepherds." He took his dad's hand again and they walked
on, lost in thought.

"Are you okay?" Jim asked after a while. "Are you getting along?"

"As well as can be expected, I guess. I read a lot. I eat pretty well when
I remember. I work hard. I like that, working."

"Do you... feel things? Have you..."

Jimmy cut him off. "No. I'm not so good at that, feeling things. But I get
along." He smiled; sadly, Jim thought. "Really. I'm doing fine."

They walked back to the house in silence.

"Well," Shareff said to Jimmy when they returned, "your friend here has
just told me that several of my ideas are poppycock." David blanched but
Shareff laughed. "He was quite right, of course. I've come to like him
quite a lot." He turned to David. "Now that James is here, tell us what you
might build for us on our little island."

David looked up and shook his head. "I have no idea, sir. So much depends
on the site, what's there already and how the land lays. I'd have to see
it..."

Shareff was suddenly excited. "You shall. Tomorrow. It is the perfect
excuse. Please excuse me, I must find Dalton." Before he could stand, as if
by magic, Dalton appeared with a tray of warm hors d'oeuvres and a bottle
of wine.

"How does he do that?" Jimmy whispered to his father.

"I don't know," his father whispered back. "But he does it all the time."

"Dalton, we will go to Clear Harbor tomorrow. Please see to the
arrangements. We will stay at the beach club. Oh yes, and please call Miss
Marta and express our regrets at not being able to attend her party."

"Yes, sir," Dalton said with just the barest hint of a smile. "I'm sure
she'll understand that the press of business sometimes cannot be avoided."

They flew to Istanbul where they boarded Shareff's 727. From there they
flew to Dakar for refueling and then across the Atlantic to Barbados where
they had a light supper at the club and fell into bed. The next day the
club provided a boat for the forty minute run to Clear Harbor.

"It's beautiful," David said, as they approached the island. "And much
larger than I imagined."

They spent the morning exploring. At noon a boat came from the club and a
buffet lunch was set up on a low cliff, overlooking the beach. They were
served by waiters who wore white gloves.

"This is it," David said after lunch, standing where the buffet tables had
been. "This is where the house goes." He found the pad he'd brought and
began to sketch, drawing in strong, sure lines. Jim and Shareff stood
behind him, looking over his shoulder and smiling, now and again nodding to
each other.

When the boat came back to pick them up, there was not a blank page in
David's pad. The next day they went back, armed with more pads and two
cameras. Jimmy took pictures of everything, from every conceivable angle,
while David continued his sketching. Shareff and Jim disappeared for a
while and came back looking disheveled and radiant. David and Jimmy both
envied them but for different reasons.

On the plane home Jimmy looked at some of David's drawings. It was going to
be quite a house, more like a compound, really, and would nestle into the
land, like it had grown there. "What's this?" Jimmy asked, pointing to a
large building set a little apart from the main house.

"That's yours," David said. "They both said they hoped you'd spend a lot of
time there with them and they asked me to work in a place for you. That's
it."

"It's awfully big, isn't it?"

"Well, I envisioned it as a sort of suite. See, here's your bedroom and
this is a sitting room. There's also a little kitchen, assorted storage
areas... Oh, and of course a bathroom."

Jimmy looked at it again. "Make the bedroom bigger and no walls here," he
pointed, "and here. Make that glass. And put the bathroom outside like you
did at the penthouse."

"You still like to pee among the flowers, huh? Well, we all have our little
quirks I guess. Sure, I can put the bathroom outside although you'll
probably need something inside, too, in case of hurricane."

Jimmy signaled the steward for another drink. "What're yours?"

David looked at him. "You're doing it again, the telepathy thing. I have no
idea..."

"Quirks. You said we all have them; what're yours?"

"I only have one, at least only one major one."

The steward brought Jimmy's drink. "I think I'd better have one of those
too, please," David said to the steward. To Jimmy's questioning look he
said, "I like to fuck in public." He held up his hand. "Don't ask because
I'm not going to say anything more about it."

In late February, after an exchange of drawings and plans, David signed a
contract with Shareff and Jim to design the house at Clear Harbor. Shareff
said he would take care of the contracting side--actually it was one of his
companies that would do most of the work--but David would have the ultimate
authority over what was done and the materials that were used. Pulled off
well, the project would make David's reputation.

In contrast to his excitement over the Clear Harbor project, David was
becoming more and more concerned about Jimmy. Over the past weeks he'd seen
Jimmy become uncommunicative and almost lethargic which just wasn't like
him. Jimmy seemed to be slipping into himself--to the point that he didn't
seem to care about anything anymore and he couldn't concentrate on anything
for more than just a minute or two. Finally he became so concerned that he
called Jim and Shareff. Jim took the next plane out.

They went to the lake, Jimmy protesting that he had work to do but going
anyway, because it was easier than not going. Jim found him distracted and
vague, almost as though he was not really there, as though he'd gone away
somewhere and his body was on autopilot.

When it came time to go to bed Jimmy said he dreamt a lot and was restless
so he would sleep on the sofa downstairs. Jim would have none of it. He
took Jimmy to bed with him and held him in his arms, wanting to make his
son feel safe. Jimmy did dream though, violent dreams from which he woke
several times in a cold sweat. He talked in his sleep too, but it was all
garble and Jim couldn't make out any of it except for Doug's name. Jimmy
grew hard several times during the night and once Jim thought he was having
a wet dream by the way he groaned and thrust out his hips but nothing came
of it. Jim cried silently for the boy's pain.

In the morning they were both drained. After a silent breakfast Jimmy took
a bottle of wine out of the refrigerator and poured himself a glass. At his
father's questioning look he said, "I have a lot of problems, I know, but
this isn't one of them." He contemplated the glass and then drained it. "It
might be better if it was."

He took the bottle and his glass and swam out to the anchored float where
he sat naked in the warm spring sun and stared across the lake, his legs
dangling in the cool water. He sat that way for three hours, until Jim swam
out to him with the paddle board.

"I brought you some sandwiches," he said, handing Jimmy a platter covered
with a damp cloth. "And another bottle of wine." He turned and swam away.

Jimmy sat, staring across the lake, drinking the wine. After a while he ate
the sandwiches, too, but mostly he just sat and stared.

And then he began to cry, his shoulders shaking and tears running freely
down his face, dropping into the lake. Jim could see him from the house and
knew he was crying but he wouldn't allow himself to go to him. But it hurt,
seeing his son out there, alone, crying like a lost puppy.

Jimmy came in a little after four, cold and exhausted. He looked at his
father. "Please, could we go... to bed? I... I need to go to bed. I'm
cold."

They went upstairs and Jim took him in his arms again and rocked him like a
baby.

"He's gone," Jimmy said after a while, tears running down his cheeks
again. "I'm going to miss him, but he's gone. He told me to be happy and to
love someone." He turned his head and kissed his dad. "I love you. He knows
that. But he meant..." Jimmy was finally getting warm. "I love him. I
always will... But that's not..." He lost track and fell asleep.

Jim cried too, silent tears of joy. It was over, he thought to himself. It
was finally over. They both slept, for a long time.

When they woke the sun was well up. Jimmy stretched and felt like a heavy
weight had been lifted away from him. He gently touched his dad's cheek and
then kissed him, feeling his teeth with his tongue.

I'm so glad you're back, son. So very glad. I have missed you."

"So have I. It's... I don't know. It's past. Thank you for loving me." He
nipped at his father's mustache and breathed in his father's breath. "It's
good to be alive again."

Jim's eyes were bright with tears as he held his son in his arms. They
kissed again, for a long time, and Jim felt his son grow hard against his
belly. That brought almost more joy than he could handle.

When Jimmy entered his father he cried out with pleasure. "Oh, God, I had
forgotten how good you feel." He tried to be slow but couldn't help
himself, the pleasure drove him in until he was resting himself against his
father's flesh and the bubble was expanding uncontrollably. He began to
move, making the bubble grow within him and pushing his father towards his
own edge. It took only a minute or two and then they fell, together, into
the long, slow release of pleasure.

They did it again, thirty minutes later, in the shower and then once more,
after breakfast, on the anchored float. Out on the float Jimmy began to
laugh and suddenly the satyr was back, loving and loving the loving. Jim
thought his heart might burst with happiness.

They spent three more days, none of it clothed and most of it in one bed or
another. They slept in the bed Jimmy and Doug had slept in and then made
love all over it, thanking Doug for the love and joy he'd brought them for
so long. Then they went downstairs and drank a toast to him, to Doug, to
their lover.

And they remembered: that first time when Jimmy had sent Doug, with a note
inviting Jim to try and seduce him. The Christmas Doug and Jimmy had given
themselves to Jim, wrapped in cellophane and with bows on their dicks. The
Fourth of July the three of them had blown each other on the anchored
float, under the fireworks. They remembered it all and they laughed and
they cried and they made love to each other. Mostly, in the end, they made
love to each other.

After Jim flew back to Turkey, via Clear Harbor, Jimmy threw a party. He
invited his eight closest friends, the men who had stood by him most
conspicuously. It was a catered affair, with caviar and lobster and
champagne and eight waiters, all eight of them naked except for torn
athletic shirts, jock straps and white gym socks.

At each place there was a small wrapped package containing a red enamel box
in the shape of a heart. On the top of each box was painted the words
"Thank You" and inside: "You may have saved my life".

After the salad and before the dessert Jimmy stood and looked around at the
group. "I'm going to make a speech and you're going to listen, no matter
how much it embarrasses all of us. And if you don't listen, I'll send all
the waiters home." He looked around, making eye contact with each one of
them. "Thanks guys," he said in a quiet voice. "Thanks for sticking by me
these last eighteen months, thanks for calling again after I turned down
your invitations and thanks for covering for me and for not having me
committed. Doug," he held up his hand at the sudden flurry, asking for
silence. "My beloved Doug is gone and I've finally made my peace with it. I
loved that man and we had nine good years together but now he's gone and
it's time to move on. And that's what I'm able to do now, thanks to your
help." He blinked back tears. "End of speech." He sat down.

During dessert Jimmy stood again and rapped on his wine glass for
silence. "This isn't a speech," he said, a laugh in his voice. "We've had
enough of speeches tonight. I just wanted you to know, though, that the
waiters are on duty through ten o'clock tomorrow morning. You may wish to
consider breakfast in bed."

When they'd all left, some with a waiter in tow, some alone, he found
himself with two waiters left over. He waived at the kitchen. "You guys
want to do the dishes?"

"We don't do dishes," one of them, a big beefy blond, said, pulling his
athletic shirt off. "Sorry," the other one said, pulling his shirt off
too. "We do do hosts, though." They led him into the bedroom, undressed
him, and essentially did to him what he and Doug had done to Ishmael that
first time in Turkey. Then, after an hour's sleep, they did it again, with
some variations, and then once more, in the morning.

-----------------
To be continued.

As always, your comments, ideas and criticisms will be very much appreciated.
Greg
jg.ps@gte.net