Talk to Me (Revised)

[Toon]

NOTE: I am revisiting and rewriting a tale I'd posted a while back that was removed because of it's violent/ death-oriented content. It was certainly not intentional, but it disturbed a number of members and I was reprimanded. It has always bugged me that I'd put so much work into that story only to fuck up the ending. I resubmit this revised version that will hopefully make amends for my previous bad judgement. THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION

1990

I'm Joey. I tried to go by 'Joe' as I got older, but I guess I looked too much like a 'Joey' to be shed of that name. Whatever. I was 22 back then and still pretty pissed that Dukakis had lost the election. I lived in cozy little apartment near the company I worked for. It was a medium-sized city with a decimated downtown. 'White Flight' had left our once thriving city streets empty. This was no big deal to me because I'd never seen the 'glory days' when beautiful restaurants, jazz clubs and department stores thrived. I'd only known that section as decayed. The city council was making an effort to revitalize downtown by trying to build pricey lofts and office space. I kept track of the firs and starts of these efforts in the morning paper. One story that caught mt eye was about a little park near the bus station that was reportedly the scene of all kinds of unseemly activity (drug dealing, gay stuff and plain old vagrancy.  The whole park would have been dozed over if not for the fact that it was WW 1 memorial, with statues of random generals. The lost souls who ended up there were spared. For now.

This was also the time period when I realized I'd always be gay. For the longest time I thought I could break it like a bad habit by just not thinking about men. Of course that didn't work. I gave up efforts to cure myself and just surrendered to porn. There was an adult book store on Pennsylvania Street where I bought magazines and video tapes. I really loved the older pre-condom stuff. I developed a preference for certain scenes and certain performers. I liked 'em big, brawny and mean. Dick size didn't even matter to me as much as the way it was used. Jon Vincent was my favorite. Man! He always fucked his bottoms with no tenderness and a lot of verbal abuse. I had a type, an ideal. Even though I had no experience with gay men or even sex of any kind. I basically beat off a lot. 

There was too many lofts and not enough tenants according to the paper. Landlords were panicked and cutting rent across the board. Maybe I'd check a few of them out on the first weekend of April. The streets down there were set up in a very schizophrenic way. Some of them would change from two-way to one-way without much warning. They'd curve and change names as well. So I was lost. I never found the Bradford Building, but I did find the legendary park that had made the news so often. I decided it wouldn't hurt to just drive through it, It was a mild, sunny day and nobody would try to carjack my old clunker. It was nice and better maintained than you'd imagine. Lots of parked cars were everywhere. Most of them were empty, but a few of them contained a solitary driver. I saw a few young guys were wandering around like tourists, but others were lurking among the trees and bushes. I could pretty much guess the kind of stuff going on there. I hadn't arrived at a point where I could even imagine doing anything like that. I couldn't conquer my fears any more than I could my sexuality. Oh well.

On the way home, I saw a little bar with a lavender neon triangle in the window. It was called 'Soaks' or 'Soakies' or something like that. I knew there were gay bars in the city but never driven by one before. OK. Here was one of them. I doubt I'd ever be able to step foot in the place, but who knows? Well, I  knew by 9 o'clock that night. I'd go. It would be adventure for the year.There was very little chance I'd find my ideal there or anywhere, but this needed to be done. 

It was only 8 PM on a Saturday night, but it felt like I'd been getting myself ready for days already. Some aunt had given me a bottle of wine for graduation last year and I decided it was time to open it. Yuck! I would never be one of those 'wine people'. I drained about half of it before I felt I could leave the apartment. Maybe the whole bottle was needed because I still thought I might chicken out. It was like the time I took a public speaking class and just had to force myself to stand in front of my high school peers and act like it was the normal thing in the world. I did it back then so I could do it now. 

It was called "Soaks" and it was the only open business on the whole block. The whole front of the place was plate glass which indicated it had been some kind of retail shop in the old days. But it looked friendly and safe...but a little filthy. OK. At least was plenty of close parking on the street and coins in the meter weren't required after 6. I sat and waited in the car for a good fifteen seconds. The key was to just go in and pretend I'd been here a million times before. 

The first thing I noticed when I entered was the bartender. He was a very tall guy in his late 30's/early 40's. He had some blondish-gray  stubble and a severely receding hairline. His arms were very long. Marfan Syndrome. Abraham Lincoln had it - a genetic thing I remembered from biology class. The second thing I noticed was the sparse crowd. The guys sitting at the bar were in their 60's and 70's. The dudes in the back were all young, tattooed and looked fresh out of prison. Mr. Marfan stopped me before I got five steps inside.

"You got I.D.?"

"Sure do." My face showed that I wasn't the least bit pissed off. I just fished it out of my wallet and handed it to him.

"Oh. You're just barely legal -- don't blame me. It seems like a hundred years since I was asked for I.D."

"No big deal." I tried not to study him like he was a slide being shown in anatomy class.

"First time here?" I took a seat at the bar where there were empty stools on either side of me. I was still easing into this. "New visitors get a free beer."

"Cool." He handed me a can of Miller Lite. A can. I assumed all bars served beer in bottles but I guess not. 

"Let me know when you need another. I own the place so you don't gotta tip."

I almost said 'cool' again but caught myself in time. "Do you have a pinball machine here?"

"Yeah, but it's out of order. Sorry. There's one of them touch-screen games right over there at the bar." I looked and saw what he was talking about, but there was a really drunk - almost comatose- old guy next to it. No. Not now.

"Not much of a crowd for Saturday night." I sucked (and still suck) at small talk.

"Take a good look because this is as crowded as it gets. I'm James by the way." He offered up his crazy long hand to shake. My own hand felt like a child's as I shook it.

"I'm Joey. Or Joe. Whatever's easiest to remember."

"Oh you'll be easy to remember. You just move into one of the lofts across the street?"

"No. I'm thinking about lofts, but I'm still in midtown right now."

"Can I ask why you're even in this place?"

"I saw it earlier and thought I'd check it out."

He noticed that I kept glancing over at the game. "You can play that. Don't mind Drucker. He's harmless. Need some quarters?"

"Nope. I'm good for now." Years of dorm and apartment living had made me hoard quarters like they were made of gold. I sauntered over to the empty seat in front of the machine as if it was routine. I felt James looking at me. Sure enough, the nodding drunk guy next to me didn't even notice my presence. He smelled like my grandpa. Scotch. 

The crowd started to thin even more. I was waiting for somebody to approach me, but none of the did. My Jon Vincent was at some other bar tonight. That was okay. I was kicking ass at the trivia games. My initials spelled out 'J.A.T.' and I had the highest score in every category except sports. James came by and handed me another beer. "Tonight is a '2 for 1' special." It was a still in a can. but it was cold. Right after I ran out of quarters and was trying to figure out if I should leave or not, Drucker fell backwards and landed on the floor with a thud. 

"SHIT! James! Call an ambulance!"

He looked a little annoyed. "No no. This happens every night. I call him a cab and charge it to his tab." I wasn't so sure. He was on the floor. I knelt down and tried talking to him.

"Can you open your eyes? Can you speak? Just breathe, OK?" His eyes fluttered open. 

"It's Charlie Sheen! I can't believe it!" 

Uh. "No. Are you able to stand?"

"I'll stand up if you kiss me, Charlie." No way was my first kiss going to be with a drunk, toothless old fart. And then he was out cold again. James walked from behind the bar in no great hurry.

"Can you help me lift him up and get him out to the sidewalk?" No. Yes. It's not anything I'd ever counted on doing, but there was really no way I could say 'no' at this point. It wasn't so difficult to lift him with James' help but getting him dragged to the door was a bit more of a challenge. By the time we got him out to the street, the cab was already there. We poured him into the backseat and stood there for a few seconds before returning to the bar.

"This happens every night?"

"Pretty much. Sometimes I convince him to toddle home before he gets to that state." The place was empty now and it was barely even 11.

"Glad I could help."

"Well you earned a free shot, Joey. What would you like?"

"Whatever. I'm not picky." Truth was I didn't know anything about hard liquor. I knew it came in brown or clear.

"Here. Top shelf whiskey. I might as well use it all before the city shuts me down for good. That'll be fine with me because I own the whole building. I'll make enough to retire and go live on a beach somewhere." That sounded nice. "Hey -- want to hear some music?"

"Sure." The shot was harsh but it went down easy enough. I think I actually even liked it.

"I've got a bunch of mix tapes from the 80's. That's probably something you'd appreciate." Oh, it was. The bar may have been in sorry shape, but the stereo/speaker system was very decent.  The opening sounds of 'Ghost Busters' came spilling out from the walls. Nice.

I asked for another beer and insisted on paying for it this time. He lowered the volume a bit and emerged from behind the bar to come join me. He brought my beer and a whole bottle of that expensive whiskey. OK. This night had been full of the unexpected. James sat his lanky frame next to me. "I need to get off my feet for a little. We'll sit here in the VIP section. You mind?" 

"Of course not."

"So is this really the first gay bar you've ever been in?" Did I tell me him that or did he just know? 

"Yeah. My diary was getting pretty boring, so I thought I'd add a little something new to it." He chuckled and poured us two more shots.

"Most cute young guys like you usually go to dance clubs or the gym to meet men." 

"I always imagine places like that as being full of people who know how to be there already. They have their own secret handshakes and inside jokes. I...I don't feel welcome."

"You think too much, Joey. Have another shot." James spun his stool around to face me and, when I didn't do the same, he turned me around too. I noticed how roughed up his jeans were. He'd worn two holes right over his bony kneecaps. There were some leg hairs visible and it was incredibly sexy somehow. Most of my porn favorites were shaved and waxed within an inch of their lives. 

The whiskey was starting to loosen my tongue and so I spoke about my particular tastes when it came to men and sex. I just came right out and admitted that I liked aggressive, verbal tops who were verbal. It's like I was reading a diary entry out loud.

James nodded. "So what do you do?"

"I just started at Plexico -- in the I.T. department."

"No. What do you do when your dick gets hard? Just stay at home and beat off?" Id never felt so pathetic. I helped myself to another shot.

"Well...I guess so.'

"I'm sorry -- that was harsh. You're probably smart to go that route for now." I looked in his dark hazel/brown eyes. He was kind. I couldn't help but reach down and touch his exposed knees. Warm skin and bone. "Rapture" by Blondie played next. I was instantly a 13 year old again. 

  Face to face, dance cheek to cheek/ One to one/ man to man/ Toe to toe/ Don't move too slow...

Remember being that age? When music said so much and spoke to you in code. James returned my touch with his own. He stroked my hair with his skinny fingers. And then we were kissing. Warm, wet, whiskey-flavored lips and a touch or two of our tongues. Wow. Dear Diary....

"One more shot, Joey. After that, I'll have to call you a cab. Two more, and you'll have to come upstairs and spend the night." 

"Upstairs?"

"My apartment is on the second floor. It's kind of a mess, but I wasn't expecting Charlie Sheen to show up tonight."

"Oh, you heard that? I've never been compared to an actor before. Poor Drucker."

"He's lived quite a life." James poured me another shot. And then another one. I wondered how long it would take for my stomach to start protesting. He was just taking sips from the bottle now. 

"Will you please kiss me again?" He obliged and it was a little more intense this time. The Bangles' 'Eternal Flame' began. Timing. I made a decision right then to just let James take over and direct the rest of the night. 

"For future reference - you don't have to ask. One more shot and I'll lock up and we can go upstairs." I downed it as he secured the door and register, set the alarm and tossed our shot glasses into a sink behind the bar. He shut off some of the lights and then led me to a door at the back which he unlocked. "Careful. These stairs are a little dangerous." He was for sure right about that. It was a steep climb and the steps were narrow. I couldn't imagine a guy with such long feet going up and down these every day. At the top of the stairs was a dimly lit hallway. It was very dark and retro...like a scene from some David Lynch movie. 

The inside of his apartment was nice, if a little unorganized. "Have a seat. Can you a beer or a Coke or something? Oh wait, I drank the last Coke this morning."

"Beer's fine." He brought two cold bottles over to the couch and sat down next to me. Maybe it was my imagination or the booze, but I swear I could feel heat coming off of his body. Possibly he was running a fever.

He put a long arm around me. "Where we we?" Then we were kissing again and this time it felt like he was consuming my whole face. We were both breathing deeply. The smell of lust combined with alcohol fumes. His tongue darted into my right ear which made me rock hard. I'd know from that point on that my ears were a weakness that any man could take advantage of. "I can give you what you've been looking for. Almost. I can't fuck you without a condom. I've got AIDS. I'd love to give you everything else, though."

"Yes." I imagined the ways I could convince him to change his mind about the rubber. He stood up and started to strip with his back turned to me. He was so skinny, but also had some muscle definition in his legs. His butt looked a little odd -- like all the fat had been sucked out of it, leaving all the skin to just hang. He turned around and I saw his boner jutting straight out. It was a nice length, but kind of skinny... like the rest of him. 

"Take off your clothes, dumb faggot!" He noticed my mixed reaction. "You wanted verbal abuse, right? Or was that just a bluff?"

I got out of my clothes in record time. "Good boy. Now get on the floor and crawl over to me. Now!" I did as told. It was as erotic as I could have ever imagined. "Stay! Now suck on this dick like your life depended on it...because it just might." He had a pocketknife in his left hand that I hadn't noticed before. Shit! He was good at this! His pointy cock was sizzling hot against my lips. I worked my tongue over the purple head and savored the subtle flavors and textures. Then he held the blade against the top of my ear. "If I feel any teeth, I'll cut your goddamn ear off. Think I'm kidding?" I felt the sharp blade press down a little. I don't think he broke the skin, but this was maybe going a little too far. Still, I loved having that hot boner in my mouth and performed what I thought was an excellent blowjob despite the fact that it was my first time. James must have liked what I was doing because he folded up the knife and let it drop to the floor.  "Yeah. You got an AIDS dick your mouth, stupid fag. I can feel my oily, filthy precum leaking down your goddamn throat. Like that? Of course you do -- you're a fuckin' perv. "

I thought I'd shoot my own load right there and then. "Sit there and savor the taste of HIV. I'll be right back. DON'T MOVE." I didn't. He came back with a bottle of baby oil and a wrapped condom. I was running out of time to talk him out of being 'safe'. "You're lucky, you dumb fuck. This is my last one. You better hope it doesn't break or I'll be flooding your guts with disease. Get on your hands and knees like a dog. Yeah. Like that. Good boy. Look at the floor and don't move." I heard him unwrap the condom and squirt some of the oil on himself. In seconds, he was working those greasy fingers up into my rectum. It was rough and so unromantic -- which was fine with me. I would be experienced after tonight, braver. "Stupid, tight virgin ass. You better pray this rubber is strong. It's going to take some work...and you aren't even worth it. Dumb fag."

It started to happen. The solid, swollen head of his sheathed penis was suddenly inside of me. The fantasy shattered into pieces for me. Too much pain. What we'd already done was enough. 
"NO! Stop!"

"Nobody said you could speak, asshole. Hold on. It feels nice in there....yeah!!!" He worked deeper inside of me...and it didn't stop hurting until it suddenly did. He kept up the abusive language..and that's probably what made me loosen up more. "There you go, boy. There's just a layer of latex...thinner than a human hair keeping you protected from millions of AIDS babies. Think about that, faggot." I did, but what I was thinking is that I wish he really were going to breed me good and proper. "Your ride is almost over...I'm gonna ....FUCK!" He stopped and pulled out of me. "Goddamn rubber broke." His voice and tone went back to normal. "Sorry, Joey. We can beat off together if you want. Shit. The thing was probably too old."

"No. Go back in. You can pull out when you need to shoot."

"That won't work. I can't. Won't." I stayed put and pushed my ass toward him a little. It was subtle, but my intentions should have been crystal clear. They were.

"OK. But just for a few seconds.. We can't play around with....Ahhhh!" He had pushed back inside. The nerve endings on his dick must have been dancing because he stayed longer than a few seconds...and went back all the way to down his nuts. He resumed the pace but not the hot talk. I knew and James probably knew I knew what was about to happen. "NO! I ...."

It happened.

He hadn't really made much of an effort to pull out, and I guess that made him upset - with both of us. He sat down on the floor next to me and started sobbing. "No. I'm so sorry. So SO sorry. I can't take it back." We held each other for several minutes. "Are you mad at me, Joey?" His face was streaked with tears. 

"Not at all. I'm the one to blame...I wanted it."

"I know, but.... I just ruined your life."

"That's not certain. It's all up to nature now." He stopped crying and looked at me in the most tender way. 

"Will you stay the night with me?" I did just that.

I went back to Soaks almost every night. I'd built up some upper torso muscles from lifting Drucker off the floor regularly. I might have even started a little bit of a drinking problem. Sometimes James and I had sex and sometimes he just didn't feel well enough. One night he came right out and told me not to come back again. "The city finally bought me out. Bad timing, though. I'm headed into a hospice on Sunday. It's the end, Joey. I don't want you see me like that. Please don't forget me."

"Never."

And that was the last time I saw him. I'd had all my fantasies fulfilled - which can be very satisfying unless you start developing even darker  desires.

END

 

 

 

[bjbottom]

Much better ending .....