JOHN DARLING'S COMA
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
After dinner, John and Gary take a walk, talking, joking around, and smoking until Gary's yawning finally convinced them to return to the hotel and go to their room. After ten minutes in the bathroom, they undressed, getting ready for bed. Gary murmured, "Sorry for cutting off tonight's activities, Darling, but I'm exhausted and will probably be asleep two minutes after getting in bed. Please, don't take offense; it's not you. It's because I've been up since five o'clock this morning."
"No problem, Gary... just sleeping with you again will be a treat for me."
Earlier, John suggested they sleep naked, but Gary ignored that. He always wears underpants in bed, and that's what he has on getting in bed now. John makes a face but gets in bed wearing underpants, mumbling, "See, Gary, I do what you do."
"Uh-huh. I want to wish you another belated happy birthday as well as thanking you for being here with me. You've reinvigorated me, Darling."
John turns the light out, then gets in bed, murmuring, "Thanks, it's my pleasure being here," and then he moves against Gary's body, making Gary smile at the feel of him in the dark. He put his arm over John, murmuring, "And, um, one last thing. Please, do not get up with me in the morning. The first thing I do when getting up is study for an hour, then shower and get dressed to meet Rick Carter at the cafe for take-out coffee, and then he drives us to the training center. I've got this routine down pat, and it works for me, so..."
"Yeah, okay, I understand, Gary. I'll stay out of the way. Goodnight. And, seriously, I'm thrilled to be sleeping with you."
Gary grinned and hugged John, who mumbled his last words of the night, "If I didn't recognize your familiar sexy scent, I'd be lost because this doesn't feel like the body of my boyfriend Gary Thomas; it feels better. I think I already love you."
"Stop it! Go to sleep."
The feel of Gary's body was slimmer but not taut; it still felt loose, but much less loose than the last time John had his body next to Gary's. John snuggled happily against this latest version of Gary, and, yep, John got the same hard-on from this skinnier version that he got from the fatter one. Nice!
John thought about tonight's activities and was surprised by all the kissing Gary had done earlier. That was out of character for him, but even so, John knew that changes in Gary would NOT extend to having sex before sleeping. Andy, plus John's old roommate, Brian, wouldn't think of sleeping with John without first having sex, but then, they're like John... hornily oversexed.
Thinking of Brian made John think, 'Goddammit, I need to stop putting off contacting Brian. I should at least text him and let him know I'm not dead, and tell him... um, tell him what else?'
It scares him a little thinking about that, his mind having different thoughts about Brian at different times. Maybe he feels slightly guilty, or... Yeah, maybe, but what could or should he say to Brian?
Uncomfortable thinking about that, John thinks about current events, such as the way Andy is horny like him. Having sex before sleeping together is taken for granted by Andy and John. Gary doesn't think like that, obviously; he has a lower sex drive, one that's probably more along normally accepted lines. Probably...
Moving the side of his head to Gary's shoulder, John tells himself that he'll get used to his boyfriend's lower sex drive. Everything will be as Gary wants it. That's what John tells himself he wants as he drifts off to sleep, fooling himself.
Saturday morning, the five o'clock alarm goes off, and Gary mutters, "Fuck," and then disentangles himself from John, who mutters, "No, don't go. Stay in bed..."
That's all John remembers about the five o'clock wake-up when, at nine-fifteen, he opens his eyes again and, for three seconds, he was like, "What the fuck? This is not... What?" Then, "Oh yeah, I'm with Gary in Montana."
He pulls Gary's pillow over to hug it and then inhales Gary's faint scent. Or, maybe John is just imagining he's smelling John's scent on the pillow.
Smiling, he turns over, bringing Gary's pillow with him, and then, thinking about last night, he smiles even wider and, as he does too often, John speaks out loud to himself, "That was definitely a fun, sexy night." He thinks about Gary fucking twice last night... but wait! That wouldn't qualify as a low sex drive, would it? No, of course not!
Huh, maybe Gary will be the one to change to a mostly horny status. Wouldn't that be something?" Until now, John had never given that possibility a chance of happening, but why not? They're really hot for one another, and who cares why that is; it just is.
With thoughts of Gary in his head, John eventually realized he was hungry, as he always is nowadays, but more than even his hunger was his horniness. What?
How odd that he'd be horny! Especially considering the two fucks with Gary last night. That was one extra sex act than he'd had any single day since Gary left for Montana. Frowning, John asks himself out loud, "Is that right? Only one fuck a day, and some days no 'partner' sex at all?"
Since Gary left, John can't remember a day getting fucked twice, but he remembers some days when his only sex was with his hand. None of these thoughts eases the fact that he's horny... and hungry.
It's mind-numbingly annoying and frustrating that he should be horny after last night, so he grumpily lies there in bed. Then, angry with himself again, he starts thinking, 'I need to be more of a positive thinker! Last night, sleeping with Gary was very special, so I shouldn't be thinking about negative things, like being unrealistically horny this morning. Gary's thinner body felt so good, but yet, at the same time, I almost missed the softer, fatter version. Isn't that odd? No, it's not odd because I became very intrigued with Gary in his fat mode. Still, I like his slimmer body better. Either version of Gary is fine by me when you get right down to it."
Sleeping with another boy has become second nature and a much-preferred way of sleeping for John Darling. He got into the habit when he and his Duke roommate Brian slept together in each other's arms for two years. In each other's arms, as much from necessity as sexually because of the smallness of their dorm beds. Since then, John simply hasn't slept well by himself. He remembers he and Brian, sleeping together in one of the two dorm beds for two weeks, would then switch to the other dorm bed and, thereby, extend the need to change the sheets to once a month, if that often. It makes John grin thinking back to those innocent days at Duke with Brian. Grunge was a favorite theme during their sophomore and junior years.
And even before that, as a primer to sleeping with another boy, Dickie Marshall and John also slept together. They didn't do that often, only as childhood best buds during sleepovers at each other's houses, although they never got sexual about it. Not that they minded sleeping against one another, either. It was a pleasant memory for John. As boys, they wrestled for the thrill of bodily contact without ever realizing that bodily contact was the primary reason they wrestled so much.
One time, John's Dad, being a prick, after making a dismissive sniff sound disapproving of all the playful wrestling the boys did, said, "Tell me something. You two are wrestling all the time, so how come neither of you ever tried out for your school's wrestling team? And did either of you ever wonder why you're always wrestling?
John frowned and muttered, "What?" That was years ago, though.
Even though he wasn't tired, John finally dozed off again in the comfort of the good bed and the quiet of the hotel room. Sleeping, he slipped into the world of dreams with his past and current favorite boys.
Wait a second here; can you even be considered a 'boy' at age twenty-two? How about at twenty-four, like Gary? Hell, yeah, ya can! Jeez, seventy-year-old men consider forty-year-old men... boys. Eighty-year-old men call other eighty-year-old men 'boys.' In the old folk's home, when seeing his old cronies, the spry eighty-year-old asks, 'How are you boys doing this morning?' Whatever...
John woke up again at eleven, feeling groggy and less rested than when he woke up at the earlier times. He muttered, "I'm going to piss the bed if I don't get out of it and have a good piss in the toilet."
Rolling out of bed, he goes into the bathroom wearing his new 'medium size' men's underpants, groping his junk. After his piss, he remembered Gary saying he took a shower every morning, so even though he and Gary had a bath and then a shower together last night, John turned on the shower, dropped his underpants, and got in the tub to shower again.
After an eight-minute shower, which he dried with another fluffy towel, he heard someone moving around in the bedroom. With his heart pounding in his chest, he peeked out of a slightly opened bathroom door and heard, "Oh, Senor, I do not know you here. I go," and out she went.
Muttering, "Motherfucking housekeeping... that was awkward," he notices the halfway made-up bed and the abandoned vacuum cleaner. Rolling his eyes, he wraps a towel around his waist and comes out to first put a ten-dollar bill on his pillow that's still on the bed as a tip, then quickly gets dressed.
Dressed, he spots Gary's cowboy hat on the desk, remembering Gary didn't have it on last night when they met. Gary doesn't wear it to the training facility, so John will wear it because he forgot his cool cowboy hat back in Cheyenne. He has on jeans and a western shirt, then pulls on his sneakers instead of boots. Wearing Gary's hoodie winter coat, he's also been wearing; John peeks out the door.
Two housekeeper women are speaking Spanish very fast. Muttering, "This blows..." John leaves the room, putting on Gary's cowboy hat on. The two women stop talking and look at him. He smiles and says, "Sorry, um, no problem. It's all good." Both women nod and say, "Si, okay..."
Walking to the elevator, he remembers reading something about Montana's population being only one-point-one million for the entire state, of which eighty-five percent were white, less than one percent were black, four percent were Hispanic, and he forgets the American Indian percentage. Anyway, at four percent of the population, why does the housekeeping staff appear to be comprised of mostly Hispanic women?
John mumbles to himself, "That question will get me in trouble if I ask it. Maybe I'll mind my own business regarding ethnicity."
In the hotel cafe, with only two other customers in there at this off-hour, a youngish waitress with big tits comes right over to flirt with John. When he says he'd like breakfast, she somehow wiggles as she's standing still, saying, "I'm so sorry, cowboy, but we stop serving breakfast at eleven."
John blushes as she grins at him, staring him in the face, the tip of her tongue showing. She teases him as if she isn't going to give him a lunch menu, starting to put it down and then pulling it back, saying, "Do you want a lunch menu? Oh, maybe not."
John frowns, shaking his head, but she finally puts the menu gently next to him anyway and says, "You're so cute; I shouldn't tease you, but it's true that you're too late for breakfast. Oversleep, did you?" She picks up Gary's cowboy hat that John had put on the counter seat to his right. She plops it on John's head and says, "Omigod, how cute!"
Flustered, John forces a chuckle, takes off the hat, and asks, "Is the main hotel restaurant still serving breakfast?"
Gloria, the twenty-one-year-old waitress with the big jugs, says, "No, honey, sorry. They don't open until five-thirty with the supper menu."
"Supper? You call dinner supper, that's, um...?"
She pats John's head, muttering, "Well, where you from, honey?"
"What?"
She grins, "I grew up on a farm in Missouri, and we had supper six nights a week and then dinner on Sunday nights, didn't you? No? Oh, you're a rich boy, ain't-cha?"
With sweat breaking out on his forehead, John nods, "Yeah, I am rich, and I want breakfast, so I'll..." and he stands up, "See if KFC is still serving breakfast, um, excuse me, if you don't mind..."
Gloria is grinning, blocking his way, saying, "I don't know any KFC restaurants around here, sweetheart, but I get off work at two o'clock; I could show you around town." John slips by her. Touching John's arm, she's still grinning, murmuring, "Or we could get drunk on rum and Cokes at a dive bar I know..."
"Oh, no. Sorry, I couldn't get drunk; my boyfriend would be mad at me if I did, um, so..." and he strides toward the door, hearing a female voice saying, "Jesus, Gloria, did you scare away another cute cus..." and he's safely in the large lobby heading for the door at the main entrance. Outside, he curses quietly, "Goddammit! Nice going, shithead making a fool of yourself. Jesus!"
Luckily, he has Gary's cowboy hat on and Gary's hoodie winter coat because when he sees the traffic signal blink, 'WALK,' he stomps across the street with no idea where he's going, but at least he's dressed for the forty-degree weather.
Still angry at himself, he pulls out his box of Marlboro and stops to cup his hand around the BIC lighter's small flame, lighting his cigarette, then making a face, he tosses the cigarette in the gutter, muttering, "Stale as shit!"
Walking on, he drops the week-old Marlboro box in a trash bin and sees a convenience store on the next block--Market Street's first store. He goes in to buy a fresh box of Marlboro red. John only smokes between zero and five cigarettes a day, so the last few in the box usually end up stale and harsh as hell.
He's calmed down a lot since the big tit waitress embarrassed him, so he doesn't light up one of his fresh cigarettes yet; instead, he takes a deep breath and unexpectedly bursts out with a laugh, laughing at himself for allowing big tits to torment him. He redeemed a little bit of 'face' by telling her that his BOYFRIEND would be mad if he got drunk. Not much of a comeback, but better than nothing. Shaking his head, he muttered, "You're an idiot, Darling.
"What'd you call me?" asked a burly man about forty years old or thereabouts who had just gotten out of his car.
John says, "What? Called you? I didn't call you anything. I didn't even see you getting out of your car. I was sort of, jokingly, chastising myself if that's any of your business. It has nothing whatsoever to do with you. Get over yourself, okay?"
He stopped talking then because he realized that when he said each sentence, he was leaning toward the man, saying each one louder than the one before it. The man was leaning back, muttering, "Okay, okay... lighten up, dude."
Working off his frustration of acting like a pussy with the waitress, John way over did this encounter with the man. With his heart pounding hard again, a block from the man, John takes out the box of Marlboro and lights one, thinking, 'Why the hell couldn't I have been that assertive with the waitress? Holy shit, though, what got into me with that guy? I sounded like a crazy person on drugs. The whole thing was my fault in the first place for talking out loud to myself.'
Exhaling smoke, he snickered, thinking, 'Gary's been a good influence on me. That man could kick my ass up and down the block, but somehow, he was intimidated because I stood up for myself, acting crazy. Hmm, some people go through life acting crazy-assertive like that and bullying their way into getting whatever they want.'
Yeah, but John can't fool himself, not with this. He realizes he doesn't have what it takes to be anywhere near that assertive on a regular basis, and he can hardly believe he did it that time. He again had the thought that he needed to be with someone, have a boyfriend with him because, on his own, crazy shit happens. Meanwhile, he's still starving... and horny.
He continues to walk on the same street, Market Street, figuring he'll be able to find his way back to the hotel as long as he stays on this street. The problem is, even though the street is named 'market' so far, the only 'market' he's come across is the convenience store. Flicking the cigarette butt into the street, he waits for a traffic light to change as he looks down the crossing street, Tenth Street, seeing there are stores on Tenth Street.
When he's got the green light, he crosses the street and walks down Tenth Street. Halfway down the block is a Chick-fil-A restaurant. John mutters, "Well, okay..."
Inside, there are three people ahead of him in line. It's ten minutes until noon, so it'll be getting busier here very soon as it is lunchtime for the workers of Billings, Montana. Looking at the menu on the wall, by habit now, he's going to order the highest-calorie items. When it's his turn at the counter, he orders two servings of Cool Wraps at 660 calories each, a strawberry milkshake at 590 calories, and a fudge brownie at 370 calories.
Eating his lunch in the restaurant, he watched the place fill up quickly, and the line to the counter was now out the door. He's feeling fortunate to come in when he did. The food is always excellent in a Chick-fil-A restaurant, but there isn't a Chick-fil-A located conveniently back home in Cheyenne. Starting on the second order of Cool Wrap, he takes out his phone to use the calculator format to add the calories. Hmm, he mutters, "Well, okay. This lunch is 2280 calories, but I missed breakfast, so that's not too bad."
A chunky girl with a weird hairdo that includes shaving one side of her head, sitting at the next small table to John's, says, "You're too young to have dementia, and I'm pretty sure you weren't talking to me, but I heard you, and I'm shocked that a person as slim as you can eat all that food. I'm wondering, if you don't mind, did I hear you correctly? You said 2280 calories?"
Determined not to let this chunky girl intimidate him the way big tits did, John stays calm and asks, "I don't know. Do you know if a menswear shop exists in this area? I'm just visiting Billings, and I need to buy jeans."
A tall guy with hair to his shoulders, about the chunky girl's age, which is maybe twenty, sits at her table asking, "Who's this?"
As John is sucking the last of the milkshake through a straw, making the annoying sound sucking on dredges, the Chunky girl nods at John and says to her tall drink of water boyfriend, "This guy just ate a 2280-calorie lunch because he missed breakfast."
John bites into the brownie, asking again, "Do either of you know of a men's clothing store or a mall around here?"
The long-haired drink of water guy says, "There's a mall a few miles off Austin Highway, but other than that, I don't know of a men's clothing store."
Finished the brownie, John gets up, says, "Thanks," and stands in line to buy a Dr Pepper... another 180 calories. Milkshakes do not quench your thirst, but they are delicious.
Sucking Dr Pepper through a straw, he starts to walk out when the long drink of water guy with the woman's hairdo says, "Hey, dude." John stops and looks at the guy, who says, "Two blocks down on Tenth, there's a bus stop. That bus runs every twenty minutes and goes to the Downtown Mall, among other places."
Saluting the guy with his can of Dr Pepper, John says, "Thanks a lot! Seriously, that's a big help."
Tall drink of water shrugs, and John walks out of Chick-fil-A thinking, 'Yeah, the way I just handled the chunky girl and then her tall drink of water boyfriend is how a twenty-two-year-old guy handles talking with strangers. That, plus the way I handled the man getting out of his car, pretty much makes up for that cute big-tits bitch of a waitress embarrassing me!'
The bus stop is exactly where that guy said it was. Three women were not talking to each other, so three strangers were waiting at the bus stop. One of them looked at John and smiled, so he smiled back, and then the four of them waited in silence. It wasn't a long wait, though. The bus came to a stop in front of them in four minutes. John thought, 'After a rocky start to the day, things are starting to work out for me.'
It was only two bus stops and fifteen minutes to the bus stop closest to the Downtown Mall. Looking out the bus window, frowning, like, hmm? John saw that the mall was almost a mile from the closest entrance. With his hand on his hat, pushing it down and holding it there, John walks off the bus into a stiff, cold breeze and heads toward the main mall entrance.
Twelve minutes later, as he approached the mall's front entrance, a good-looking middle-aged man wearing a suit and an overcoat walked inside and held the door for John, who said, "Thank you." The man nodded and went on his way.
John was relieved that a stranger was content ignoring him, as most strangers seemed to take an unnatural interest in him. Another good thing is that John was already where he wanted to be because the first department store inside the mall entrance was Dilliard's, and when he walked into Dilliard's, the first department straight ahead was the Polo Ralph Lauren department.
John muttered, "Preppy," entering that department. Immediately, he was accosted by an overly eager salesman about sixty years old. Okay, he was not accosted, but John didn't even get to the first display of long-sleeve, button-down shirts when this man was there saying, "Good afternoon, Son. What can I help you with?"
"Oh, um, that's okay. I'm just, you know, browsing." The man was almost inside John's personal space, too close to him for sure. It was awkward, so for something to say, John muttered, "Oh, um, anything on sale?"
"Of course. This way, please," and the salesman lightly touched John's elbow, getting him moving. John walked with the guy, but he was so pissed off at himself for regressing back into his lack-of-confidence shell. He knew he couldn't keep up the aggressive behavior, and now some asshole salesman has the upper hand. Dammit!
The salesman stops at a large display of items on sale, but all of it is clothing for summer wear. John, trying to regain his confidence, says, "No, I'm not interested in summer stuff." The salesman holds out his hand, inviting John to step to the left, where there's a big display of long-sleeve button-down Polo shirts and sweaters with the little polo player logo on some but not others.
John, trying to climb back onto equal ground with the aggressive salesman, asks, "How come some shirts are missing the little polo player logo, and others have it?"
"You're much too young to remember this, Son, but Polo brand clothing was once considered very 'preppy.' But since the term and, um, the concept of preppy went out of style, Polo began removing the logo."
"What? Out of style? What are you talking about? I'm very preppy, and I can't imagine why you'd claim preppy went out of style. Is this your first week working in the clothing department?" John was on a roll now, and he's got the salesman flustered.
The salesman tries walking back the statement that preppy is out of style, "I misspoke! You're correct, of course. As you see, many shirts have the logo, and it's still incredibly popular, but it's not referred to as 'preppy' as often as was the case some years ago; that's all I meant."
"Huh, well, what is it? Is it still preppy if you buy the shirt without the logo, or what?"
The salesman looked as if he'd swallowed something unpleasant. Then, looking past John, he said, "I'm so sorry, excuse me, young man. That woman customer just waved at me. I'll see what she wants and be right back to assist you."
John did a noncommittal little shrug and refrained from saying what he wanted to say, which was, "Please, don't come back to assist me and stop calling me son. In fact, please leave me alone." He didn't say any of that, though.
Instead, he fell in love with Ralph Lauren's men's clothing and began accumulating items to purchase. Whenever the option was Polo logo or none, he took the ones with the little polo player logo, muttering, "I'm a preppy motherfucker; that's what I am." Nobody heard him say that, so nobody took offense, which they probably would have had someone heard him because people are thin-skinned and defensive, many with inferiority complexes, assuming the worst kind of behavior from their fellow humans.
John took his time picking out four Solid Oxford Long-Sleeve Button-down Collar shirts, two white and two pale blue. All of the shirts are medium-sized and cost $125 each. He added two tan slim-fit stretch chino pants to those four shirts, both with 32-inch waists, one with a 32-inch length and the other 34-inch length. They are $115 each. Obviously, half of everything he's buying is for Gary.
What else? A pair for Gary and a pair for himself of Hampton Relaxed straight jeans, the same sizes as the chino pants, also at $115 each. He liked the Cotton Jersey Long-sleeve pale green Hoodie, so two of those were $69.50 each. Then, two pale pink Slim-Fit Solid Stretch Long-Sleeve woven shirts at $125 each. John was snickering and wondering what Gary would have to say about them dressing alike. They could wear the exact same thing some days... if they wanted to.
The pile of clothing was heavy by now, but he added two Reversible Leather belts, 32-inch at $79.50 each, and struggled to get everything to the register, where a woman said, "Oh my goodness. You've made my day, my week. Let me help you with those," and she sets everything on the counter. John assumes she is referring to making some kind of quota in sales commission. He's pretty sure about that because at the register next to the nice saleslady's register was the over-eager sixty-year-old salesman ringing up a T-shirt for the woman he'd left John for.
John tries not to smile at the thought of the salesman passing up the commission for all his items. Daggers are coming from the overly eager salesman's eyes. If looks could kill, John and the saleslady would both be so dead...
The nice, smiley saleslady is unaware of that as she carefully folds everything. When she has it all rung up and in two very nice shopping bags with handles, she says, "That'll be fifteen hundred and ten dollars. Will that be a check, cash, or credit card?"
John passed his credit card to Judith, the saleslady's name on her badge, and she smiled so happily; John was glad she was getting the commission. After ringing up the $20 T-shirt sale, the salesman gave John the deadeye stare for another three or four seconds, then stomped off to accost a woman who had just picked up one of the Polo shirts. John couldn't tell if the lady had a shirt with the Polo logo or not.
That is all the shopping John wants to do, and now he has two bags of clothes to carry wherever he goes. Clothes are heavier than you think, so he isn't excited about walking almost a mile back to the bus stop and then a couple of miles back to the hotel carrying two bags of clothes, assuming he even knew the way back to the hotel from Chick-fil-A or the bus stop. Hmm, maybe there's a better way. So, what to do?
Looking at an artist's rendition of the Downtown Mall's layout that's on the wall outside Dilliard's department store, John saw the large arrow pointing to the entrance "THIS IS WHERE YOU ARE."
Well, no shit. It's the main entrance, so that was no help, but what helped were the words "TRANSPORTATION" on the opposite side of the layout, meaning the opposite side of the mall. John mutters, "I'll take a cab."
He lugs his clothes purchases through the main wide Mall corridor to the opposite end and goes outside. To the left were three Yellow Cabs. He mumbles, "Awesome," and walks to where the cabs are parked. The cab driver, for the first cab, jumped out and held open the door for the back seat. When John gets to him, the cab driver asks, "Where ya going, buddy?"
John tells him and the driver, a big, scary-looking man of about forty with tattoos on his neck and comical ears that stood straight out from the side of his shaved head, like two car doors opened to the max, mutters, "That's a haul from here. No problem, though."
John couldn't imagine why there would be a problem, but he let it slide. Then, he began to think there was a problem because the cab driver did not follow the bus's route, which was obviously the most direct route. Instead, he took a more or less sightseeing route to the hotel that took forty minutes and racked up a $63.89 fare.
Getting out of the cab, John asks, "How'd you know I was a tourist and wanted to see every street in Billings?"
"What are you talking about? Was that a wisecrack, kid? That's sixty-three, eighty-nine, plus tip."
Getting out, John mutters, "Yeah, yeah," and then, through the driver's window, gives the driver four twenties, and the guy says, Thanks," and drives away. Watching the cab as it turns a corner, John entertains himself, saying, "Sure, keep the thirteen dollars for your tip."
Acknowledging that he'd won a couple of encounters with fellow humans today but probably lost more than he won, including the taxi driver loss, John shook his head, muttering, "Gary wouldn't let that fucker get away with that, um, that robbery, basically," and walked into the hotel lobby. Two people, maybe a husband and wife, stood at the elevators' bank when John joined them.
Nobody said anything, so maybe it wasn't a husband and wife, not that it mattered one way or the other to John. The three of them got on the next car going up. Everyone pressed a button for their floor, and then all three looked at the little lighted numbers above the doors change, one, two, three, four at each floor they were passing. The none-talking man and woman stayed in the car when John got off, and Gary's room was only two doors down. Convenient.
John dropped one of the shopping bags at Gary's room and used the duplicate card/key Gary had given him to unlock the door. Inside, he let out a long exhale, glad to be safely back where he had started.
"Whew, I made it," he muttered to himself, then dropped both shopping bags and sat in the room's only armchair, thinking, "It wasn't a totally successful venture, but I eventually got done what I set out to do; I had a great lunch, and, yeah, I was looking for breakfast, but the lunch was really good, and then I bought clothes that fit the new Gary and me. Of course, since I always worry about something, I'm now wondering if Gary will be pissed off or pleased that I bought clothes for him. Hmm, what's my best guess?'
Laying his head back on the chair's headrest, he mutters, "Thinking positively, Gary will love all the things I bought for him. I mean, why wouldn't he?"
Looking at his phone he sees it's almost four o'clock, so at least an hour and a half to kill before Gary gets here. John stands and walks around the room, noticing that the horniness has again taken over his mind.
He dumps all his Polo purchases from the shopping bags onto the double bed they didn't sleep in. Everything he bought has a number of tags on it that need to be removed. John separates his stuff from Gary's and looks at the tags on his pair of jeans. "Hmm, " he mutters, "I need a scissor or knife, neither of which I have."
Going into the bathroom, after moving things around in Gary's toiletry kit, he pulls out a little scissor and mumbles, "Perfect..."
Back in the bedroom, he takes a can of Bud Light from the room's minibar, snaps the tab, takes a swallow, and then gets to work taking the tags off all the clothing, cutting off tags in between swallowing bitter beer. That takes fifteen annoying minutes, but then he envisions an even more annoying chore. The clothes have wrinkles from being folded on display for weeks and maybe months, so they need ironing. John looks in the closet and sees what he expected: an iron and ironing board.
Sighing, he sets that up and waits for the iron to get hot, and then starts ironing the clothes, quickly realizing it's a steam iron that needs water. He gets a paper cup of water from the bathroom, fills the iron, and soon, steam comes out. John can thank his roommate Brian for his skill with an iron. Brian made John do any and all ironing that either of them needed to have done, which wasn't much, but doing both their ironing over two years added up to a good ironing experience.
After ironing Gary's pants and shirts and hanging them on hangers, John got another beer, then ironed his stuff and hung it up. Looking at all the hangers full of ironed new clothes, John nodded and muttered, "I had fun today, and fifteen minutes or so from now, Gary will be here."
Making a commitment to himself that he will not be the one suggesting sex, although he wants to get right in bed with Gary. No matter, though, he'll wait for Gary to suggest it.
Still, he needs to be prepared in case Gary suggests sex right away, so John goes in the bathroom and washes up, brushing his teeth and using mouthwash to hide the beer breath. Combing his hair the best he can, he squints, looking at himself in the mirror, then changes his shirt and puts on Gary's cowboy hat and coat, then goes down to the lobby and outside for a smoke, which now means he has ashtray breath. Fuck!
When he's done taking care of his nicotine fix, he goes back inside to wait for Gary there.
Walking around, John has a nervous anticipation that makes no sense, but he's got it anyway. Maybe it's a kind of excitement, but that doesn't make any more sense than nervous anticipation. In his preteen years, John got a dog he fell in love with named Beagle because it was a beagle named by five-year-old John Darling, his parents rolling their eyes.
Anyway, John and Beagle were together a lot, and John was the one who fed Beagle, so the dog belonged to his master, John, in Beagle's mind. Yep, young John was Beagle's master, and when the master went off to first grade, Beagle couldn't wait for his return and almost jumped out of his skin when he saw Johnny get off the school bus and start walking up the front walk.
Right now, waiting for Gary, John feels like Beagle must have felt waiting to see his master get off the school bus. John was determined not to make squeaky sounds, jumping up on Gary the way Beagle did when he walked in the front door years ago. Thinking that, he felt his eyes stinging because Beagle died at age thirteen of neurological reasons four years ago, and John still isn't totally over that love affair.
He stepped into the hotel's gift shop and bought spearmint gum to chew, covering his ashtray breath, not that Gary wasn't a smoker, but just to be safe. With his hands in his pockets, Gary's cowboy hat jauntily on the back of John's head, he wanders around the lobby, chewing gum and attracting attention. A young man dressed like a bellhop, his hand on a luggage cart, asked John, "Do you need help with anything? I'll be happy to help you."
John's slightly startled initial expression turns to a pleasant smile when it registers in his brain that this young bellhop is a cute guy about his size and age. The bellhop uniform is boldly old-fashioned but somehow adds to this guy's cuteness, like he's dressing up for Halloween or something. John says, "Hi! Um, I'm curious about why you think I need help. Haha, I probably need lots of help, but not the kind you mean, so..."
The bellhop cuts him off, "With luggage. Can I help you with luggage! I wondered if you were looking for help with your luggage since you're sort of lurking near this room where we hold luggage for guests who checked out today's checkout time, eleven o'clock, but left their luggage with us until later in the day."
Nodding, John walked over to the bellhop and read his name tag, saying, "Phillip, I'm never this forward, but I've got to ask: do you know what you and I have in common?"
Phillip says, "Yes, I do. We're both better looking than ninety to ninety-nine percent of humans currently living on the planet Earth." He said that with a straight face, then added, "And I may be just a percentage point or two ahead of you."
When John breaks out with a big grin, both of them laugh, and then John mutters, "Oh, man, that struck me as so fucking funny, but true, too." Then both snickered some more, and Phillip muttered, "Yeah, true for all the good it's done me. I'm a fucking bellhop."
John says, "Not that it's any of my business, but are you gay by any chance?"
"God, no! Please don't tell me you are."
John mutters, "Okay, I won't," and they both look over when Gary says, "Darling, don't bother the pretty bellhop." They all chuckle until Gary and John kiss on the lips. Phillip stops chucking and mutters, "Gross me out!" pushing his cart away.
Gary goes, "Was it something I said?" and puts his arm across John's shoulder, murmuring, "Actually, all kidding aside, he was a cute motherfucker, but his beauty was pale compared to yours."
Grinning, John goes, "What? Um, I didn't hear all that."
"Yes, you did. C'mon, let's get a drink. I'm about up to my eyeballs with this computer shit I'm learning."
They get moving in the direction of the hotel lounge, which is one of three bars in the hotel; this one is on the lobby floor. Gary added, "I thought about you all day, Johnny. And let me tell you, that's NEVER happened to me before. I've never thought about anybody for as long an hour, for that matter., never mind all friggin' day! You're that special, Darling?"
As they walk into a dark bar with subtle country music playing, barely audible, John says, "My hearing isn't great; what was all that you said, Gary?"
They sit at the bar, Gary saying, "You heard me. Listen, I'll bet a hundred bucks you wanted to find out if that cute motherfucking bellhop was gay. Didn't you?"
"What? NO!"
"C'mon, bro, is he gay?"
"No, at least he said he's not. He's basically homophobic, from what I could tell. What a waste, though, ya know? He could be a big deal on our team."
Then, John holds Gary's hand, and, sounding serious, he murmurs, "I think I might be in love with you, Gary. I mean it. All day I thought about you and even if the bellhop were gay, I'd drop him in a second for you."
Shrugging, "Ya know, that's sweet of you to say, Johnny, but I'm pretty sure it's too soon for talk of love. I'm super flattered, though. I'm at the stage of our relationship, astonished at how special I think you are. I've never said that about anyone else."
A female bartender with way more dyed blond hair than made any sense finally stops her emphatic discussion with a man at the far end of the bar. An argument of some kind, but walking toward Gary and John, she has a huge phony smile. Then, saying to Gary, nodding at John, "Sorry, but your son will need to wait at a table. No underage children are allowed to sit at the bar."
As she grins to let them know she's joking, Gary and John frown like, 'You can't be serious with that corny shit...' That has no effect on her, though. Seeing their confusion, she does a phony laugh and says to John, "I'm teasing you, although you do look awfully young. Do you have a photo ID, Hon? Sorry, but rules and all..."
Her name tag read, "Sidney," and as John showed his driver's license to her, Gary said, "Sidney, two draft beers, please. Whatever is on tap is fine."
Not acknowledging that she heard Gary, Sidney shook her head like she couldn't believe what she was seeing, saying to John, "Yours is the best license photo ID I've ever seen in twelve years of bartending. Of course, the photographer had a lot to work with." Then, looking surprised because she had just realized something, she pointed at John, asking, "Hey, you look like Phillip. Are you and he related?"
"Who's Phillip?"
Sidney says, "One of the bellhops." Then to Gary, "Two draft beers coming up, Hon."
The guys smirked at one another, and Gary said, "I'm simply not used to all the attention you get, Darling. I'm not surprised by it or anything, and I'm only on the peripheral of it, but it still takes some getting used to."
"What are you talking about? My photo ID is a good picture; other than that, I, we, and whatever aren't attracting any unusual attention."
Sidney says, "Here ya go, fellas; two draft beers." Then she reaches under that bar, comes up with a bowl of peanuts, adding, "Compliments of the house. Enjoy," and goes right back to the other end of the bar to argue with the man again.
Gary takes two big swallows of beer, then mutters, "You're used to the attention, so you don't notice it as much as I do. You don't think it's unusual. I'll get used to it in time, I suppose."
As Gary's guzzling more beer, John taps his arm and tells him, "I bought some clothes with appropriate sizing for us today."
"Get the hell out of here! You bought me clothes?"
Shrugging, John goes, "Well, I needed pants with a larger waist. I'd bought a couple, and they fit so well, I got more, and while I was at it, I got you some stuff too."
Gary finishes his beer and says, "Thanks, bro! How much do I owe you?"
"Nothing! What? Let me treat my boyfriend to a few things, jeez! We're boyfriends, and, Jesus, I've been wearing your clothes since moving in with you. And that reminds me, what's half the apartment's rent? I owe you for that."
Gary sort of waves at Sidney, who sees him and clicks on her phony smile, walking down the bar towards the guys as two people come into the bar and sit a few bar stools away while another group of three more guys come in. The worker bees' work day is done, and they need booze to get over another unpleasant day of taking shit from those individuals the workers feel superior to but somehow must be subservient to.
"Two more drafts?" Sidney asks Gary?
He nods, "Yes, please," and then he says to John, "I'm excited to see what you bought me. Um, and your half the rent is six hundred dollars, plus let's round it off to six-fifty to include utilities."
Nodding, John mutters, "Sure, okay," and then thinks, 'Gee, I just spent over seven hundred dollars on Gary's stuff and told him I'd pay for it, and then he says I owe him money for half the rent when I've only been there a little over two weeks.'
It only takes John a second to realize he doesn't need to give a shit about money. As they drink the second draft beer, John describes in detail the clothes he bought for Gary, who seems overwhelmed by John's generosity. He says, "My Mom and Dad struggled with money problems through my teenage years until Dad finally got his auto repair business up and running. Once that started working, things got sweet, and now, as you know, Dad's got two garages making money, plus you're in on the latest venture of detailing cars, meaning cleaning the hell out of them, as you know only too well. Right?"
"I like working, as I've told you before, but my boss is no picnic."
Nodding Gary, mumbles, "Old man, Sylvester, huh? Yeah, nobody except Dad is all that happy about Walter."
John is squirmy with horniness, especially sitting right next to Gary, who arouses him without Gary even being aware of John's horniness. Gary asks, "What do you think about having dinner here again tonight? It was okay last night, didn't you think?"
"Oh, dinner, um, sure. I was wondering if you might want to go up to the room first, though," he said, taking a deep breath and trying to exhale it quietly, but it came out making a stuttering sound.
Gary frowned, asking, "Are you okay, Darling?"
Nodding, John mumbles, 'Yes, I'm fine. Do you want to see your new clothes and clean up before dinner? I'd like to kiss you and hug you a little. Jeez, I'm sorry, but you get me. Ah, haha, I don't know.'
"Oh, gee, no, it's me who is sorry, Johnny. I'm so insensitive to your needs. You didn't fly to Montana to have a hotel dinner. We should eat at a fancy upscale restaurant."
Shaking his head, John's about to say he doesn't care where they eat, but Gary's grinning, then affectionately squeezing the back of John's neck, murmuring, "But that's after we have some yummy sex. It's not just you, Baby. I want to do it too, so c'mon, let's go," and he drops a twenty and a ten on the bar, grinning and mumbling, "That'll go on my expense account."
John's eyes are big and shiny and sting a little bit, too, because he loves the way Gary handled that. First joking and then being affectionate. It made John feel like a kid being cared for by an amazing, mature, adored authority figure. It's a gooey, sexy feeling even though John knows he needs to outgrow groveling in his favored submissive role in sexual situations.
Gary asks, "Ready, Darling?"
Nodding and gulping, John says, "Yep," and feels an intense love for Gary. He turns his head to casually wipe his eyes with the coat he picks up off the bar stool next to him, where he dropped it twenty minutes ago. John mutters, "Let's go, Daddy."
Gary snickers, not realizing the effect he has on John, then says, "Don't let anybody hear you call me that, but between us, it's cool. I'll be your daddy, little boy. Haha," and he hugs John, dragging him off the stool, and they walk out of the lounge/bar, John inconspicuously wiping his eyes again, murmuring, "I think I love you, Gary." Laughing, Gary puts his arm across John's shoulders, "Of course you do. God, you're a lot of fun!" He shakes John a little, adding, "I'm getting all horned up for you. Goddamn, you might be too much for me to handle."
"No, you can handle it easily, Gary! You can handle me!"
Stopping at the bank of elevators, Gary whispers, "Ah, don't let everyone know our business, okay? Don't say shit like that when strangers can join our conversation, ya know?"
"Oh, sure. I know I have a problem of blurting shit out even when I'm alone. I'll work on that."
Gary looks at the people around them waiting for an elevator car, wanting to tell John that he's still talking out loud, telling these strangers his business even as he's saying he knows he does that and shouldn't. Oh, fuck, Gary figures he'll wait until they're in the room to mention that to John. He grins to himself because John Darling is just so fucking cute, so earnest about things that it makes Gary wonder why should he care that John's clueless about the things he is earnest about.
Meanwhile, when they're outside the room, John is very fidgety and anxious for Gary to unlock the door. Then, inside, Gary starts to say something but is cut off by John's mouth on his. They kiss, and Gary staggers a few steps backward at John's aggressiveness. The cowboy hat comes off John's head, dropping to the floor behind him as he backs Gary against the closet door, their tongues sliding together, John making a low animal sound of arousal.
Gasping, Gary turns his head, then mutters out of breath, "Wait a second, stop, Jesus... whew."
John rubs his nose against Gary's, murmuring, "I need my boyfriend to make love to me. It's very arousing being with you. C'mon, Gary, please..."
"Hey! What the hell? I want to do that, too, John! You don't need to say please. That makes it sound as if I'm into some form of psychological abuse on you. It's a mutual craving... I want sex with you as much as you want it with me."
Backing up a step, John mutters, "I doubt that, but I feel stupid now. You must think I'm a sex maniac. God, I don't know what got into me."
Doing a minor shrug, Gary murmurs, "That's okay, Darling. No problem, I'm flattered, actually. You're awesome for my ego." Then, to lighten the mood a little, Gary smiles and says, "Is it the loss of weight? Maybe I better not lose anymore, huh?"
Grinning, still feeling foolish, John mutters, "It's, um, I don't know. It's you! You've put me under a spell of some kind. Um, should I get the dildo and cock ring?"
"Oh, um... It's looking more and more as if you and I are going to be the real deal, long-term and all that, so we need to work out how to have sex without the sex toys. That is how you wanted to do it in the first place. I need to listen more closely to you, and I will."
"No, you don't need to Gary. I like doing everything your way. I'm not the 'leader' type."
Chuckling, Gary gives John a hug, mumbling, "Not the leadership type, huh? Goddamn, I'm enthralled with you. Ah, we definitely do need the lubricant, though."
John says, "Well, yeah," and goes into the bathroom, saying over his shoulder, "I borrowed the scissors from your toiletry kit."
Ignoring John's remark about scissors, Gary has just noticed the closet with all the neatly ironed clothes. Walking to the closet, he touches a few things, shaking his head in amazement, calling out, "Darling, what the fuck? You must have spent a thousand bucks on these Ralph Lauren Polo clothes."
Carrying the tube of K-Y lube, John mumbles, "It was fifteen hundred and something dollars, but I love the style of all that stuff. Yours starts here," and he spreads the coat hangers apart, separating Gary's matching clothes and John's.
Gary sputters, "I thought you'd gotten us some jeans from Target or someplace like that. Holy shit, Johnny. I can't afford clothes like these."
John's leaning against Gary, who is used to that by now, and puts an arm around John as John murmurs, "You don't have to be able to afford these clothes, Gary... they're already paid for."
Gary squeezes John, muttering, "You know what I meant," and John says, "I was thinking we could set up a schedule and dress the same every day. What do you think about that?"
Laughing out loud, Gary mutters, "Probably, I won't do that," and he squeezes John again, kissing him on the mouth, adding, "I might fall in love with you."
"Your whiskers are scratchy."
"I'll shave right after I fuck you. Okay?"
"Uh-huh."
To be continued... donnymumford@outlook.com
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