more pleasure than they’ve ever experienced before. And more. I will make the old men feel like they are still players in the games of love and sex. I will give them back some part of their youth, or at least the illusion of it. And they will give me the money I need to sustain my temporal disguise, my ‘human’ needs. And the young men and the men on the very cusp of middle age? The ones like you, Robert? I give to them also—the kind of sensations I gave you tonight. But I take more from them than I give, as you can see now. I take their youth, their vitality, their energy in sex and everything else. Through them, through you, I will live on and on, Robert, never aging, never losing the love of live.”
He laughed and it startled Merriman to see his own mouth part and his teeth show in vivid contrast to his tanned cheeks. “And when I’ve gotten all I can get from Atlanta, I’ll move on to some other place thronging with beautiful young men. Until then, I will be Robert Merriman for awhile, until I have taken all I can from you. Thank you again, Robert. You can rest assured of what you have done for me, this bit of contribution you have made to eternity, and you can die with it as well.”
Robert—for it was Robert now, not Ronnie, not Cole—leaned over to kiss Merriman. Then something occurred to him. “Oh yes. Ronnie. You were curious about Ronnie Antonelli. And you were right, of course. There. That’s him.”
He pointed to a troll standing some four or five men to Merriman’s left. Gone was the handsome face, the lithe physique, all replaced by wrinkles and white hair, warts and varicose veins. Merriman’s doppelganger turned back to him, smiled deeply, and whispered, “Good night, Robert. Good night, sweet prince,” and turned away a last time, moving slowly past theline of moaning, beseeching old men—if men they still were—and when he got past that troll that had once been the young and handsome Ronnie Antonelli, the decayed, decrepit, erstwhile youth reached out with a withered arm and cried, “Robert, it’s me. Ronnie! Ronnie Antonelli. You remember me, don’t you? I don’t know what’s happened. I don’t know what’s going on. Please don’t go. Please. I need you, Robert. I need you!”
The End of the Earth
by Jen Bluekissed
“I can’t just leave you here,” I said to Rodolfo as I caressed his muscled abs while he bent over. His straight black hair draped the side of his face as he positioned himself. “If you’re not feeling well enough to sail, then I’ll nurse you back to health,” I said. He lay on his back on our hostel’s bed, his hand knotted in a fist over his stomach.
“No. You’re going. I know you want to help me, Carlos, but we paid a lot of money for our spots on the sailboat. Enjoy it. Staying here won’t help my stomachache.” Rodolfo turned away from me. As he moved his eyes to his new wedding ring, he fidgeted with it, slowly spinning it on the ring finger of his right hand. “I know you want to be a good husband, but I insist you have some fun. Listening to me retch isn’t how you should have to spend the first full day of our honeymoon.”
I cuddled up beside him. With one hand on his chest, I kissed his tanned shoulder. The white tank top revealed the perfect place for a tender kiss. “And you shouldn’t spend the first full day of our honeymoon alone, either.” Rodolfo’s body wasn’t as warm as I had expected. Any time he normally fell ill, my long time partner-now-husband ran a fever. “It was the
pulpo gallego
, wasn’t it?” I said as I repeated the kiss over his shoulder blade.
“
Sí, mi marido
,” he said while adjusting his body into the fetal position. “Leave me alone. Really, you won’t be able to help.”
Rodolfo’s parents were originally from Santiago de Compostela, Spain, but they immigrated to the U.S. before he was born. Because I was a Spanish citizen, we were allowed to marry with full rights under Spanish
He laughed and it startled Merriman to see his own mouth part and his teeth show in vivid contrast to his tanned cheeks. “And when I’ve gotten all I can get from Atlanta, I’ll move on to some other place thronging with beautiful young men. Until then, I will be Robert Merriman for awhile, until I have taken all I can from you. Thank you again, Robert. You can rest assured of what you have done for me, this bit of contribution you have made to eternity, and you can die with it as well.”
Robert—for it was Robert now, not Ronnie, not Cole—leaned over to kiss Merriman. Then something occurred to him. “Oh yes. Ronnie. You were curious about Ronnie Antonelli. And you were right, of course. There. That’s him.”
He pointed to a troll standing some four or five men to Merriman’s left. Gone was the handsome face, the lithe physique, all replaced by wrinkles and white hair, warts and varicose veins. Merriman’s doppelganger turned back to him, smiled deeply, and whispered, “Good night, Robert. Good night, sweet prince,” and turned away a last time, moving slowly past theline of moaning, beseeching old men—if men they still were—and when he got past that troll that had once been the young and handsome Ronnie Antonelli, the decayed, decrepit, erstwhile youth reached out with a withered arm and cried, “Robert, it’s me. Ronnie! Ronnie Antonelli. You remember me, don’t you? I don’t know what’s happened. I don’t know what’s going on. Please don’t go. Please. I need you, Robert. I need you!”
The End of the Earth
by Jen Bluekissed
“I can’t just leave you here,” I said to Rodolfo as I caressed his muscled abs while he bent over. His straight black hair draped the side of his face as he positioned himself. “If you’re not feeling well enough to sail, then I’ll nurse you back to health,” I said. He lay on his back on our hostel’s bed, his hand knotted in a fist over his stomach.
“No. You’re going. I know you want to help me, Carlos, but we paid a lot of money for our spots on the sailboat. Enjoy it. Staying here won’t help my stomachache.” Rodolfo turned away from me. As he moved his eyes to his new wedding ring, he fidgeted with it, slowly spinning it on the ring finger of his right hand. “I know you want to be a good husband, but I insist you have some fun. Listening to me retch isn’t how you should have to spend the first full day of our honeymoon.”
I cuddled up beside him. With one hand on his chest, I kissed his tanned shoulder. The white tank top revealed the perfect place for a tender kiss. “And you shouldn’t spend the first full day of our honeymoon alone, either.” Rodolfo’s body wasn’t as warm as I had expected. Any time he normally fell ill, my long time partner-now-husband ran a fever. “It was the
pulpo gallego
, wasn’t it?” I said as I repeated the kiss over his shoulder blade.
“
Sí, mi marido
,” he said while adjusting his body into the fetal position. “Leave me alone. Really, you won’t be able to help.”
Rodolfo’s parents were originally from Santiago de Compostela, Spain, but they immigrated to the U.S. before he was born. Because I was a Spanish citizen, we were allowed to marry with full rights under Spanish
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