"The Enchanted Cottage" -- Part 13
In from the storm.
Las Encantadas Estate, Erie, Pa., October 2006
Slam!
Justin woke with a start as the front door banged open and the storm -- and a stormy Brian -- blew into the room.
"Goddamnittohellmotherfuckingsonofabitch!"
"Brian!" Justin leapt off the sofa. "Wh... what happened? You're drenched!"
"No kidding!" Brian was dripping water all over the hardwood floor. He was also holding a tattered umbrella limply in his hand. "Jesus Christ! Piss on this fucking thing!" He threw the umbrella across the room and then began pulling off his soaking clothes.
"What happened to your umbrella?" asked Justin, his eyes wide.
"The wind got it on the walk back from the garage!" Brian wiped his face with his sopping shirt. "A perfect end to a perfect fucking evening!"
Justin ran to Brian's bathroom and took a large towel out of the linen cupboard. Brian walked into the bedroom as Justin came out and snatched the towel away.
"Let m... me help you," said Justin.
"I can dry myself, Sunshine," Brian sniffed. He dabbed at his chest and arms, but he was still soaking the carpet.
"You're doing a lousy job," Justin returned. He picked up Brian's discarded shirt. "This is a mess. It's all m... muddy. And so are your jeans."
"I fell coming down the fucking path in the dark." Brian peeled off his jeans and kicked them aside. "I think I ruined my fucking Prada boots!"
"Oh." Justin was suddenly very aware that Brian was standing in front of him, wet and completely naked. "C... can I get your robe?"
Brian started to say something rude, but then he stopped. "Yes. Please. It's hanging on the hook in the bathroom."
"I know. I m... mean, I just saw it there."
Justin got the robe and handed it to Brian, then he began collecting the rest of the wet clothing from the floor.
"You don't have to do that," said Brian. "You're not my maid."
"I don't m... mind. They'll need to be washed. Or dry cleaned. I'll ask Mrs. Minnett about her c... cleaner."
Brian grabbed Justin's arm. "I said you don't have to do that. You aren't the fucking maid! It's my own goddamn fault if my clothes are fucked up."
Justin stared into Brian's dark green eyes. Even with his robe on, he was still almost naked, and although he was wet with the rain, his body radiated heat. "I... I'll just put them in the h... hamper."
Justin went into the bathroom and put the jeans into the laundry basket. He tried to rinse the shirt out in the sink, but it was a hopeless cause.
"You w... want some hot tea?" Justin asked when he came out.
Brian was sitting on the edge of the bed, running his fingers through his damp hair. "No. I'm fine."
"It'll heat you up. You don't w... want to catch pneumonia."
Brian barked a laugh. "Now you sound like my mother! No -- erase that. My mother wouldn't give a shit if I caught pneumonia. She'd probably say it was God's punishment for going out in a hurricane, looking for dick!"
Justin drew a deep breath. "Is th... that what you were d... doing? Looking for d... dick?"
"Why else would I go out in this fucked up weather?" Brian shook his head. "That's how horny I am. Pathetic, isn't it?"
Justin thought about the hook-up sites on Brian's computer. "Where did you g... go? A b... bar?"
"No," Brian said wearily. "I avoid bars. Even the darkest, most depressing dives are still full of judgmental assholes. I went to a rest area off Interstate 90. The guy said he'd meet me there. It was pouring and the men's room was little more than an outhouse -- and the roof was leaking! The guy was some fucking closet case. He was jumpy as hell. And then... when he really looked at me... he hiked! Fucking jerk! There's nothing wrong with my dick! Nothing at all! It's as good as it ever was. But no one wants to know that. No one wants to..." Brian covered his face with his hands. "I might as well cut off my remaining ball and have done with the whole thing! Then I won't care anymore."
Justin sat on the bed next to Brian. "R... remaining ball?"
"I only have one," Brian explained. "The other is plastic."
Justin was shocked. "P... plastic?"
Brian closed his eyes. "I had cancer two years ago and they removed it. I should have followed my instincts back them -- a one-way ticket to Ibiza, party my ass off, and then end it all. I would have gone out in a fucking blaze of glory! Instead..." He opened his eyes and saw Justin gazing at him. "Instead of becoming a fucking shadow of what I was. Going out with a whimper, instead of a bang."
"I didn't know," Justin said. "I mean, about the cancer. Mrs. Minnett didn't tell me."
"That's because she doesn't know. Almost no one knows. The only people I told were Michael, Theodore, a guy I worked with at Vangard, and Gardner, who needed to know why I was taking time off when I was sick from the radiation. Lindsay still doesn't know, so she couldn't have told Mrs. Minnett."
Justin blinked. "Why d...didn't you tell her? Isn't she your son's mother?"
Brian nodded. "Yes, but I didn't want her hovering over me like some mother hen, trying to take care of me. Michael knowing was bad enough. And now only three people know -- Michael, Gardner... and you."
"What about the guy at work?"
"He's dead," Brian said flatly. "So he won't be saying anything to anyone."
"Oh." Justin looked away. A guy named Theodore. He knew some of Brian's friends had died in the bombing, but he didn't know their names. "I'm sorry."
"For what? It isn't your fucking problem!" Brian stood up and began pacing back and forth. "I'm such a fucking idiot! This was the worst idea ever! I never should have come here! At least if I were in the Pitts I could order up a hustler. Hustlers are the best, you know? They'll even let a freak like me fuck them -- if they get paid enough!"
Justin swallowed. "I'll d... do it," he said in a small voice. "And you don't have to pay me."
Brian halted in his tracks. "You'll do what?"
"You can f... fuck me. I've n... never done it before, b... but I can learn. I w... want to. I'm almost 24 years old and I'm sick of being a... a... a virgin."
Justin began to pull his tee shirt over his head.
"No," said Brian. "Stop that!"
Justin stopped. "D... don't you want to f... fuck me? Is it because I'm a... a gimp? With my f... fucked up hand and b... bad leg? And m... m... my mashed brain? Are you afraid I'll have a seizure? Or am I th... that disgusting? Would it be beneath you to fuck a b... babbling idiot?"
"No," Brian whispered. "I don't think you're disgusting at all. And I was an asshole to call you that. I say things without thinking. Without really knowing what I'm talking about. I've apologized for it -- and I almost never apologize. But when I'm wrong, I say so. I was wrong."
"Then why not?" Justin demanded. He clenched his right hand tightly and his cock stirred inside his cargo pants. "If you f... fuck me, then you won't have to g... go out in the rain to find someone. I'm r... right here!"
"That's the problem!" Brian shouted in despair. "You're right here! I see you every day -- and I want to fuck you! Want to grab you and toss you on the bed and fuck your ass until you scream! But I won't. I can't."
"Wh... why not?" Justin pleaded.
"Because you deserve better than me, that's why!" said Brian. "I don't fuck people I care about. I don't fuck anyone I give a damn for. Because I'm bad news -- always have been and always will be. Before... the incident I was the king of Liberty Avenue! I could get any guy I wanted. And I wanted plenty of them. But not as people. They were fucks. Tricks. Tight asses and hot mouths. That's the way I liked it and that's the way I kept it. And now..." Brian shuddered. "Now I can't even get a fat fuck in a pick-up truck to suck me off. And I don't blame the guy -- I wouldn't want to fuck me either. So how can I allow you to be some kind of sacrificial lamb? The ultimate pity fuck! Because you feel sorry for me? No way!"
"But I w... want to!" Justin insisted. "And it's not out of p... pity! I swear!"
Brian took Justin's hand and pulled him to his feet. "Go back to your room and go to sleep. I'll be fine. And I'm going to give you some advice that no one who knows me will ever believe I said. Wait, kid. Wait until you find someone you really love. Someone who'll give you a memory you'll cherish for the rest of your fucking life. Don't settle for anything less. Because that's what you deserve -- to make love with someone you love. Now -- go to bed. And forget we ever had this conversation."
He pushed Justin out the door and shut it. Then he went into the bathroom and washed his face. The covered up mirror stared back at him, mockingly.
The rain was still pounding hard against the cottage. Brian looked out the window, cursing himself. You stupid fuck! Now you'll really have to leave here. Or you'll have to send Justin away. Because there's no way you can stay in this cottage with him another day. No fucking way!
Brian turned out the lights and got into bed. For once he wasn't drunk. He cupped his balls in his right hand, feeling the plastic one. It felt hard and false, like his heart.
The bedroom door creaked open and a figure crept across the room. Sat on the bed. Pulled back the covers.
"What are you doing? I said to go to bed," said Brian.
"I... I am," said Justin, getting in beside him.
"Didn't you hear what I told you?" Brian huffed. "About only fucking someone you were in love with?"
"Yes," said Justin. He ran his hand down Brian's long body and found his erection, grasping it firmly. "And th... that's exactly what I'm doing."
***
Las Encantadas Estate, Erie, Pa., October 2006
Slam!
Justin woke with a start as the front door banged open and the storm -- and a stormy Brian -- blew into the room.
"Goddamnittohellmotherfuckingsonofabitch!"
"Brian!" Justin leapt off the sofa. "Wh... what happened? You're drenched!"
"No kidding!" Brian was dripping water all over the hardwood floor. He was also holding a tattered umbrella limply in his hand. "Jesus Christ! Piss on this fucking thing!" He threw the umbrella across the room and then began pulling off his soaking clothes.
"What happened to your umbrella?" asked Justin, his eyes wide.
"The wind got it on the walk back from the garage!" Brian wiped his face with his sopping shirt. "A perfect end to a perfect fucking evening!"
Justin ran to Brian's bathroom and took a large towel out of the linen cupboard. Brian walked into the bedroom as Justin came out and snatched the towel away.
"Let m... me help you," said Justin.
"I can dry myself, Sunshine," Brian sniffed. He dabbed at his chest and arms, but he was still soaking the carpet.
"You're doing a lousy job," Justin returned. He picked up Brian's discarded shirt. "This is a mess. It's all m... muddy. And so are your jeans."
"I fell coming down the fucking path in the dark." Brian peeled off his jeans and kicked them aside. "I think I ruined my fucking Prada boots!"
"Oh." Justin was suddenly very aware that Brian was standing in front of him, wet and completely naked. "C... can I get your robe?"
Brian started to say something rude, but then he stopped. "Yes. Please. It's hanging on the hook in the bathroom."
"I know. I m... mean, I just saw it there."
Justin got the robe and handed it to Brian, then he began collecting the rest of the wet clothing from the floor.
"You don't have to do that," said Brian. "You're not my maid."
"I don't m... mind. They'll need to be washed. Or dry cleaned. I'll ask Mrs. Minnett about her c... cleaner."
Brian grabbed Justin's arm. "I said you don't have to do that. You aren't the fucking maid! It's my own goddamn fault if my clothes are fucked up."
Justin stared into Brian's dark green eyes. Even with his robe on, he was still almost naked, and although he was wet with the rain, his body radiated heat. "I... I'll just put them in the h... hamper."
Justin went into the bathroom and put the jeans into the laundry basket. He tried to rinse the shirt out in the sink, but it was a hopeless cause.
"You w... want some hot tea?" Justin asked when he came out.
Brian was sitting on the edge of the bed, running his fingers through his damp hair. "No. I'm fine."
"It'll heat you up. You don't w... want to catch pneumonia."
Brian barked a laugh. "Now you sound like my mother! No -- erase that. My mother wouldn't give a shit if I caught pneumonia. She'd probably say it was God's punishment for going out in a hurricane, looking for dick!"
Justin drew a deep breath. "Is th... that what you were d... doing? Looking for d... dick?"
"Why else would I go out in this fucked up weather?" Brian shook his head. "That's how horny I am. Pathetic, isn't it?"
Justin thought about the hook-up sites on Brian's computer. "Where did you g... go? A b... bar?"
"No," Brian said wearily. "I avoid bars. Even the darkest, most depressing dives are still full of judgmental assholes. I went to a rest area off Interstate 90. The guy said he'd meet me there. It was pouring and the men's room was little more than an outhouse -- and the roof was leaking! The guy was some fucking closet case. He was jumpy as hell. And then... when he really looked at me... he hiked! Fucking jerk! There's nothing wrong with my dick! Nothing at all! It's as good as it ever was. But no one wants to know that. No one wants to..." Brian covered his face with his hands. "I might as well cut off my remaining ball and have done with the whole thing! Then I won't care anymore."
Justin sat on the bed next to Brian. "R... remaining ball?"
"I only have one," Brian explained. "The other is plastic."
Justin was shocked. "P... plastic?"
Brian closed his eyes. "I had cancer two years ago and they removed it. I should have followed my instincts back them -- a one-way ticket to Ibiza, party my ass off, and then end it all. I would have gone out in a fucking blaze of glory! Instead..." He opened his eyes and saw Justin gazing at him. "Instead of becoming a fucking shadow of what I was. Going out with a whimper, instead of a bang."
"I didn't know," Justin said. "I mean, about the cancer. Mrs. Minnett didn't tell me."
"That's because she doesn't know. Almost no one knows. The only people I told were Michael, Theodore, a guy I worked with at Vangard, and Gardner, who needed to know why I was taking time off when I was sick from the radiation. Lindsay still doesn't know, so she couldn't have told Mrs. Minnett."
Justin blinked. "Why d...didn't you tell her? Isn't she your son's mother?"
Brian nodded. "Yes, but I didn't want her hovering over me like some mother hen, trying to take care of me. Michael knowing was bad enough. And now only three people know -- Michael, Gardner... and you."
"What about the guy at work?"
"He's dead," Brian said flatly. "So he won't be saying anything to anyone."
"Oh." Justin looked away. A guy named Theodore. He knew some of Brian's friends had died in the bombing, but he didn't know their names. "I'm sorry."
"For what? It isn't your fucking problem!" Brian stood up and began pacing back and forth. "I'm such a fucking idiot! This was the worst idea ever! I never should have come here! At least if I were in the Pitts I could order up a hustler. Hustlers are the best, you know? They'll even let a freak like me fuck them -- if they get paid enough!"
Justin swallowed. "I'll d... do it," he said in a small voice. "And you don't have to pay me."
Brian halted in his tracks. "You'll do what?"
"You can f... fuck me. I've n... never done it before, b... but I can learn. I w... want to. I'm almost 24 years old and I'm sick of being a... a... a virgin."
Justin began to pull his tee shirt over his head.
"No," said Brian. "Stop that!"
Justin stopped. "D... don't you want to f... fuck me? Is it because I'm a... a gimp? With my f... fucked up hand and b... bad leg? And m... m... my mashed brain? Are you afraid I'll have a seizure? Or am I th... that disgusting? Would it be beneath you to fuck a b... babbling idiot?"
"No," Brian whispered. "I don't think you're disgusting at all. And I was an asshole to call you that. I say things without thinking. Without really knowing what I'm talking about. I've apologized for it -- and I almost never apologize. But when I'm wrong, I say so. I was wrong."
"Then why not?" Justin demanded. He clenched his right hand tightly and his cock stirred inside his cargo pants. "If you f... fuck me, then you won't have to g... go out in the rain to find someone. I'm r... right here!"
"That's the problem!" Brian shouted in despair. "You're right here! I see you every day -- and I want to fuck you! Want to grab you and toss you on the bed and fuck your ass until you scream! But I won't. I can't."
"Wh... why not?" Justin pleaded.
"Because you deserve better than me, that's why!" said Brian. "I don't fuck people I care about. I don't fuck anyone I give a damn for. Because I'm bad news -- always have been and always will be. Before... the incident I was the king of Liberty Avenue! I could get any guy I wanted. And I wanted plenty of them. But not as people. They were fucks. Tricks. Tight asses and hot mouths. That's the way I liked it and that's the way I kept it. And now..." Brian shuddered. "Now I can't even get a fat fuck in a pick-up truck to suck me off. And I don't blame the guy -- I wouldn't want to fuck me either. So how can I allow you to be some kind of sacrificial lamb? The ultimate pity fuck! Because you feel sorry for me? No way!"
"But I w... want to!" Justin insisted. "And it's not out of p... pity! I swear!"
Brian took Justin's hand and pulled him to his feet. "Go back to your room and go to sleep. I'll be fine. And I'm going to give you some advice that no one who knows me will ever believe I said. Wait, kid. Wait until you find someone you really love. Someone who'll give you a memory you'll cherish for the rest of your fucking life. Don't settle for anything less. Because that's what you deserve -- to make love with someone you love. Now -- go to bed. And forget we ever had this conversation."
He pushed Justin out the door and shut it. Then he went into the bathroom and washed his face. The covered up mirror stared back at him, mockingly.
The rain was still pounding hard against the cottage. Brian looked out the window, cursing himself. You stupid fuck! Now you'll really have to leave here. Or you'll have to send Justin away. Because there's no way you can stay in this cottage with him another day. No fucking way!
Brian turned out the lights and got into bed. For once he wasn't drunk. He cupped his balls in his right hand, feeling the plastic one. It felt hard and false, like his heart.
The bedroom door creaked open and a figure crept across the room. Sat on the bed. Pulled back the covers.
"What are you doing? I said to go to bed," said Brian.
"I... I am," said Justin, getting in beside him.
"Didn't you hear what I told you?" Brian huffed. "About only fucking someone you were in love with?"
"Yes," said Justin. He ran his hand down Brian's long body and found his erection, grasping it firmly. "And th... that's exactly what I'm doing."
***