dontravis.com blog post #290
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| Courtesy of Wikimedia common |
Enough of the school teaching thing. This week, let’s get back to some hot flash fiction. Don’t know where the following story came from, but it sort of wrote itself, so I suspect it's from some suppressed recollections from my past. Does it remind you of anything in yours?
*****
WHAT’S IN A NAME?
Mirrian-Webster defines corker as something exceptional. If so, Aaiden Corker was aptly named. That described him right down to his toenails, and believe me, I’d seen him right down to those bare toenails. Not like I would have preferred to see him, you understand, but in the locker room at the pool or in the showers after a game of golf. To me, he was walking perfection. Handsome. Built. Bold. Smart. Considerate. And—unfortunately—totally heterosexual. I was so consumed by living on his fringes that I’d even looked up the meaning of his first name. Aaiden. English meaning a fiery young man. Nailed it!
I had an unusual Christian name, too, although my family name of Smith was about as common as you can get. My first name was kinda symbolic, as well. Eban was likewise English and meant stone. And that’s the way I got around Aaiden… rock hard. My mind went sort of flinty, too. My tongue might as well have been stone because it didn’t function very well in his presence. If you get the idea I was awed by Aaiden, you’d be right.
The summer after we graduated Rainsville High—me as valedictorian and Aaiden as salutatorian—I attended a scout camp in the mountains in the northern part of the state. To my delight—and terror—Aaiden was there, as well. I almost packed up and went home when I found he shared a bungalow with me and four other guys. But he made it easy, taking the time to talk to me like I was a regular guy, not a tongue-tied idiot. Before long, I could say “good morning” and “good afternoon” without stuttering.
Halfway through the camp, the scoutmasters sent us on field trips, one of which was overnight. I enjoyed the walk among the fragrant pines and spruce and along ridges that opened to vast vistas across broad canyons. Jays and other birds flitted among the branches and chirped at us as we passed. I fed a chipmunk scraps from my mess kit before scouring the stainless-steel vessel with sand.
Twilight found us on a flat piece of ground near the peak of a mountain at about 11,000 feet. It had been a glorious day, and I’d not given thought to sleeping arrangements. So I was surprised to find myself helping set up a two-man tent and horrifically thrilled that Aaiden was pounding pegs into the stony earth right beside me. We would share the tent. Wow!
He was so casual about it that I soon put aside my apprehension and enjoyed his company. He really was a great guy… in addition to being handsome and sexy and totally desirable. Later, when we turned in, I watched out of the corners of my eyes as my tentmate stripped to his skivvies—black Haines briefs—and slipped into his sleeping bag. He did it in a hurry, not because he was shy, but because at this altitude, the nights were cold even in the summer. I wondered if he eyed my plain white jockeys as I crawled into my own bag.
“Brrr,” Aaiden said. “Shoulda brought PJs.”
“Yeah, they should have warned us.” I bit down on my tongue after that pedestrian reply.
To my delight, we spent a few minutes talking about the day’s hike and a couple of the counselors before he doused the flashlight and settled down for the night. It took me a long time to go to sleep. I kept fighting the urge to reach across the couple of feet that separated us to make sure he was really there. If nothing else, I could always say I spent the night with Aiden Corker. Let them make of that what they will.
I wasn’t really asleep. It was too cold for that, but I was in a stupor when a hand shook my shoulder.
“D-damn, Eban, I’m freezing. How about you?”
“Cold. Uncomfortable. But not freezing.”
“Your fart bag must be better than mine. Can I crawl in with you? I’ll put my bag over the top of us.”
My mouth went dry as I nodded my head before realizing he couldn’t see me. “Y-yeah. Sure.”
Then Aaiden Corker, my idol, my wet dream, unzipped my bag, told me to turn on my side, and crawled into bed with me. I barely noticed how cold his flesh was, all I knew was that Aaiden’s chest pressed flush against my back and Aaiden’s basket was shoved against my butt.
“Better,” he pronounced after a moment. “You all right?”
I wasn’t. A vital part of me was mimicking the English meaning of my first name, and my sphincter was twitching like crazy. But I swallowed hard and mumbled, “Yeah.”
“Kinda close quarters, isn’t it?” he remarked as he settled himself more comfortably, which involved pressing his package against me. Was it my imagination, or was something taking place down there? Whoops. Not my imagination.
“You know,” he said, putting his arm around me and pulling me closer. “I’ve wondered what this would be like since we were both sophomores.”
I didn’t have to do a thing while Aaiden lived up to his name. A fiery young man!
*****
Does this leave you casting around in your memory for something similar? I certainly hope so.
Now my mantra: Keep on reading. Keep on writing. And keep on submitting your work to publishers and agents. You have something to say… so say it.
By the way, I understand fellow author Mark Wildyr has decided to purloin the mantra for his website, as well. That’s okay. I encourage anyone and everyone to adopt it. It’s so true!
If you would like to drop me a line, my personal links follow:
Facebook: Don Travis
Twitter: @dontravis3
Here are some buy links to City of Rocks, my most recent book.
The next book in the BJ Vinson Mystery Series, The Lovely Pines is scheduled for release on August 28 of this year. Abaddon’s Locusts follows on January 22, 2019. AND I have recently signed a contract for the sixth book in the series called THE VOXLIGHTNER SCANDAL. Publication date as yet undetermined.
See you next week.
Don
New Posts are published at 6:00 a.m. each Thursday.
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