dontravis.com blog post #535
Tod’s a goner, isn’t he? Head over heels in love with the dreamiest fellow he’s ever laid eyes on. So how’s he going to handle it? Or is it even something he can handle? Read on and find out.
****
BAUD
YOUNGFELLOW
Baud proved
to be such a great guy to work with that I almost regretted having carnal
designs on him. Almost. He didn’t put up with slacking or carelessness on the
job, but that didn’t matter. I was so anxious to please this guy I earned
compliments most of the time. It wasn’t long before he made me feel like a
buddy… a special pal.
We didn’t
socialize, like run around together, but I got an occasional invitation to stay
afterward and sit on the porch with a glass of tea or a soda. I wouldn’t have
minded one of the beers he kept in the fridge, but he didn’t offer, and I
didn’t ask. When he discovered I played chess, our socializing expanded a bit.
I went over most Saturday mornings, not to work, but to play chess. Then we
started tossing the football around or trying to burn one another’s hands off
by hard throwing a baseball. Yeah, I was a special bud. I’d made it to that
stage, but hadn’t figured out how to take it to the next.
Then one
Saturday morning, he cut our time together short.
“Gonna have
to quit early,” he said. “Myra’s coming over to cook me a dinner.”
My heart
plunged.
He leaned
in and winked at me. “You know how it is, you gotta pay them some attention or
the whole neighborhood talks.”
My heart
came right back up again, and I beamed. “I know.”
“You have a
steady girl?” he asked.
Time to
show him I wasn’t a kid. “Naw. Love ’em and leave ’em, that’s me.”
“That’s the
spirit,” he said with a grin. “I better head off to the shower now.”
Gee, I
needed a shower too. Wonder if he’d let me use his… at the same time he was in
it? My britches filled out a little in the front at that thought.
I peddled
home assessing the situation. He remembered my name from the first time I’d met
him. Who does that? Someone who’s interested in remembering, that’s who.
He came to
me to offer a job, I didn’t go to him. And at the same time, he’d called me a
man. Great.
As my
employer, he paid very well. Maybe a tad too well, like he really wanted me to
hang around.
We sought
one another’s company after work and on Saturday mornings. He was older’n me,
and could have bummed around with somebody his own age, but no—he picked me.
He was not
only a great guy, but he was touchy-feely too. He was always laying a hand on
my shoulder, and boy, did that feel good. Got so I did the same thing. When I walked
over to ask him a question, I’d put my hand on his shoulder. And he didn’t
shrug it off.
And after
the weather warned a bit, I’d asked him if he minded if I shucked my shirt to
work, he’d said that was a good idea and stripped his off, just about causing
me to swoon. I really liked putting my hand on his shoulder and touching naked
flesh.
Not only
that, but when he’d been explaining something to me about the job—we were
working in the dining room now—he’d laid his arm across my shoulders. My knees
sagged a little at his touch, but I recovered. Of course, he removed it after a
minute, but it was long enough to make my britches bloom. And I’m pretty sure
he saw my condition before I turned away.
Damnation!
Why did I turn away? That had been my opportunity, and I’d blown it. The word
“blown” just about caused me to pedal off into a ditch, but I recovered at the
last minute. I made it home without disaster striking, and hopped into the
shower. The mental image of Baude in his shower, soaping up and enjoying the feel
of water sluicing off his naked flesh put me back in a condition. One I took
care of with those delicious mind pictures playing before my eyes. I groaned so
loud at the end I was afraid Mom heard me from the kitchen. As I was gasping
and recovering from my efforts, I resolved to bring things to a head the next
time I saw Baud. Crap, that wouldn’t be until Monday. Wonder if he’d mind if I
came over Sunday afternoon.
Naw. We
were buds. He wouldn’t mind that. That’s what I’d do after church… and ruin all
the preacher’s good works of the morning. I snickered at the thought.
****
Sticking to
my determination, I grabbed the bike and pedaled over to Baud’s, rehearsing how
I was going to approach things.
Hey man,
you’re sexy as hell, and I get a hard-on every time I see you. I’m tired of
jerking off in the shower. How about we get it on.
Naw. Too
crude. Needed to be suave… you know, like a man.
Hey,
guy, you get my pheromones in an uproar. Let’s go upstairs to the bedroom.
Well, the “pheromone”
part was sophisticated enough, but it still wasn’t right.
And so it
went until I arrived at his house, still without the right approach. Have to
play it by ear. Maybe he’d give me an opening… or proposition me!
He took a
long time answering the door, and when he did, he about bowled me over. All he
had on were his trousers. His hair, tousled, bare chested, barefooted. The
sexiest I’d ever seen him. Even the bare feet.
He ran a hand
through his hair. Wow! Talk about manly. “Hi, Tod, what’s up.”
I played it
cool. “Wasn’t doing anything, so thought I’d come over to play a game of chess…
or something.” I kinda bore down on the “… or something.” Would that be enough?
He kinda
glanced behind him for a second. “Sorry, guy. I’m otherwise occupied.”
“Oh.”
Then I
heard the last thing I wanted to hear. A voice calling from upstairs. A female
voice. Pretty sure it was Elena Garcia’s voice. “Who is it, Baud?”
He turned
and yelled. “Friend of mine. I’ll be up in a minute.” He faced me again and
smiled. “Sorry about that. Maybe we can get in a game after we finish work
tomorrow.”
I don’t
know what my expression was at the moment, but I’d probably let my feelings
show. At the very least, I blushed. “Sure. Shoulda called first. Sorry.”
That
bicycle ride back to the house was the longest ride I’d ever made. For some
reason, my legs were so exhausted I had trouble pedaling.
****
I seriously
considered not going to work the next morning. Don’t know if I was more
disappointed or more embarrassed. But there was plenty of both, I can tell you.
In the end, I rode over, and the ride was sure shorter than the one home
yesterday. I got there before I wanted.
Baud walked
out of the house as I came up the steps and tossed me a Coke. “Let’s talk.” He
planted his fascinating butt on the top step. I flopped beside him. He took a
drink of his own soda—he preferred Dr. Pepper—and set the bottle on the steps
between his legs. He acted uncertain for a minute. Was he going to fire me?
Tell me to buzz off?
“Tod with
one d,” he started in a halfway joking way. “I think I misled you.” He
faced me and speared me with those tiger’s eyes. “Do you know why I hired you?”
I swallowed
hard. “Uh-uh.”
“To
explain, I have to tell you a story. I grew up in a house with my mother and
father and my brother. My younger brother. His name was Steven. I was five
years old when he was born, and I resented the hell out of him. It was a drag
having him around. As a baby, when he cried, he got all the attention. When he
was up and walking, he followed me everywhere. Pissed me to no end. “
Baud
stretched his legs and let them dangle down the steps. “But you know what? When
I was thirteen, I came down with the measles. A bad case of them. My mom told
him to stay away from me or else he’d catch them too. But every night, he’d
sneak into my room and crawl up in bed with me. When Mom or Dad caught him,
they’d scold him. You know what he said?”
I shook my
head.
“I’d rather
have the measles than stay away from Baudy. That was his name for me. Can you
imagine that? Well, he got them all right, in spades. After that, he had a
brother, not a brat who always tried to shoo him off. We got close. Real close.
Like brothers oughta be.”
“What
happened?” I asked.
He looked
at me with a strange look in his eyes. “He died when I was eighteen. Went on a
hike with some friends. They were climbing a bluff when part of it gave away.
He didn’t fall all that far, but he hit a rock at the base of the cliff… and
died.”
“Geez, I’m sorry,
Baud.”
“I decided
to stay in La Rosa the moment I saw you standing at the side of the Bentley the
day I first arrived. I saw Stevie. Or someone who resembled him enough to let
me pretend it was him.”
I swallowed
hard, gulped aloud, probably.
“And when
we started working together, the bond became stronger. You’re a good guy, Tod,
just like he was. You’re pleasant and likeable and handsome. Just like Stevie. So
I took a great deal of pleasure in your company and started treating you like I
treated my brother. And… and….” He fell silent and studied the half-empty coke
bottle between his legs. “And I misled you. Made you think my interest was something
else.”
“I’m… I’m
sorry.” I screwed up the courage to ask, “How…how’d you know.”
“Man, it
was written all over your face when Elena called out. Not your fault. Mine. I
saw it happening but didn’t know how to stop it without just cutting you loose,
and I didn’t wanta do that.” He shrugged before taking a slug of his drink. “I
shoulda just had this talk with you so you’d understand. Sorry.”
“Me too.”
He slapped
a leg and looked at me. “So are we all right now?”
“Yeah, all
right,” I lied.
Well, maybe
I hadn’t actually lied. I’d always wanted an older brother.
C’est
la vie! Or
as they say around here, ¡Por así es la vida! How about it? Can Tod with
one d accept Baud as a brother rather than a lover? My personal opinion
is that his shower is going to continue to get some action until he finds
someone of his own.
Now
my mantra: Keep on reading and keep on writing. You have something to say…
so say it!
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