stop
onto the highway. At once, I hit the stop button, pretty sure that if I watched
any more, I'd probably start jerking off, and I was determined not to open that
giant economy-size jar of Vaseline till Clark and I were in bed together again.
I spent
the next morning working on the inventory while Clay sat at his desk and paid
bills. During lunch hour, I made a bank deposit, picked up a prescription, and
stopped to get an application for a driver's license. When I got back, he asked
me for his first cigarette of the day.
As I lit
his Marlboro, he nodded and announced, "I called your mother while you
were out."
"How
did it go?"
He smiled
that lecherous smile of his. "Let's just say, Clark'll be here tomorrow."
"Clay...
How did you manage that?"
He blew a
smoke ring. "How does your cell phone work?"
"I
haven't tried it yet."
"Better
find out. What movie did you watch last night?"
"Uh...
I don't remember the title."
"No
lies, buddy. Of course you remember."
"I...
I'd never seen porn before."
"What'd
you think?"
"It
was... compelling."
He
tousled my hair. "I've got a doctor's appointment. Find something to do. I'll
be back in time for 'Jeopardy.'" At the door, he stopped. "You ever
gonna tell me the title?"
I could
barely get the words out. "Rest Stop Blowjobs."
"Oh.
One of my faves ."
He exited
on a paroxysm of laughter.
After I
stopped dying, I sat there in the office for a long time trying to decipher
exactly what he had just told me. I needed to discuss it with Clark. Checking
the time, I got out my cell phone. My cell phone. The call was answered on the first ring.
"'Bout
time."
"Clark!"
"It just
came. Tell Uncle Clay I love it."
"Where
are you?"
"In
the kitchen, but its okay. Mom's not here."
"What
did she say about the cell phone?"
"She
was already gone shopping when it came."
"What're
you gonna tell her?"
"I
dunno." He giggled. "Maybe the truth."
We talked
for over an hour, catching up, covering every single detail of the last few
days that we could remember. After Clark gave me a graphic description of Go-To
Guy's performance in the woods, he asked me, "If you let someone go down
on you, does that make you queer?" After I waxed eloquent on the joys of
Clay's pornography collection, I asked him, "If you go down on someone,
does that make you queer?" We talked about blowjobs for a long
time.
"I
don't think I could get into blowjobs," I said. "Well, except with
you, maybe"
"I
was just about to say, that's pretty much the way I feel, too. Yeah, only with
you, for sure."
"I
don't think it counts..."
"... if you do it with your brother."
"Well,
of course not. That wouldn't be..."
"... queer."
"Exactly!"
"Oh,
shit! Mom's back. Better go. See you tomorrow. You'll recognize me, I'll be the
one with the raging hard-on."
"No, that'll be me! And hey, ditto, ditto, ditto."
"Ditto, ditto, ditto"
The bus
pulled in right on time the next evening, and Clark was the first one off. I
broke away from Clay and Lily and raced to embrace him. We hugged as if we hadn't
seen each other in years, pressing so close that we seemed to meld into one
body, and yes, we had matching erections. I hoped no one could see the bulges
in our jeans, and I was glad I'd had the foresight to wear Clark's jockstrap.
That seemed to keep my goods in check. Of course, I knew he was wearing mine,
too, for precisely the same reason. God, we do think alike. We came this close
to kissing right there in the Greyhound depot, but somehow managed not to.
After all, Clay was videotaping the entire reunion.
"I'm
gonna suck your dick tonight," Clark whispered in my ear. "You know
that, don't you?"
I shifted
to find his ear. "Not before I suck yours."
"Maybe
we can find a way to do it at the same time."
In honor
of Clark's arrival, Clay took us out to a fancy French restaurant. You know,
white tablecloths, menus with tassels, a cocktail pianist, and more silverware
than we'd ever seen in our life. Clark and I sat
onto the highway. At once, I hit the stop button, pretty sure that if I watched
any more, I'd probably start jerking off, and I was determined not to open that
giant economy-size jar of Vaseline till Clark and I were in bed together again.
I spent
the next morning working on the inventory while Clay sat at his desk and paid
bills. During lunch hour, I made a bank deposit, picked up a prescription, and
stopped to get an application for a driver's license. When I got back, he asked
me for his first cigarette of the day.
As I lit
his Marlboro, he nodded and announced, "I called your mother while you
were out."
"How
did it go?"
He smiled
that lecherous smile of his. "Let's just say, Clark'll be here tomorrow."
"Clay...
How did you manage that?"
He blew a
smoke ring. "How does your cell phone work?"
"I
haven't tried it yet."
"Better
find out. What movie did you watch last night?"
"Uh...
I don't remember the title."
"No
lies, buddy. Of course you remember."
"I...
I'd never seen porn before."
"What'd
you think?"
"It
was... compelling."
He
tousled my hair. "I've got a doctor's appointment. Find something to do. I'll
be back in time for 'Jeopardy.'" At the door, he stopped. "You ever
gonna tell me the title?"
I could
barely get the words out. "Rest Stop Blowjobs."
"Oh.
One of my faves ."
He exited
on a paroxysm of laughter.
After I
stopped dying, I sat there in the office for a long time trying to decipher
exactly what he had just told me. I needed to discuss it with Clark. Checking
the time, I got out my cell phone. My cell phone. The call was answered on the first ring.
"'Bout
time."
"Clark!"
"It just
came. Tell Uncle Clay I love it."
"Where
are you?"
"In
the kitchen, but its okay. Mom's not here."
"What
did she say about the cell phone?"
"She
was already gone shopping when it came."
"What're
you gonna tell her?"
"I
dunno." He giggled. "Maybe the truth."
We talked
for over an hour, catching up, covering every single detail of the last few
days that we could remember. After Clark gave me a graphic description of Go-To
Guy's performance in the woods, he asked me, "If you let someone go down
on you, does that make you queer?" After I waxed eloquent on the joys of
Clay's pornography collection, I asked him, "If you go down on someone,
does that make you queer?" We talked about blowjobs for a long
time.
"I
don't think I could get into blowjobs," I said. "Well, except with
you, maybe"
"I
was just about to say, that's pretty much the way I feel, too. Yeah, only with
you, for sure."
"I
don't think it counts..."
"... if you do it with your brother."
"Well,
of course not. That wouldn't be..."
"... queer."
"Exactly!"
"Oh,
shit! Mom's back. Better go. See you tomorrow. You'll recognize me, I'll be the
one with the raging hard-on."
"No, that'll be me! And hey, ditto, ditto, ditto."
"Ditto, ditto, ditto"
The bus
pulled in right on time the next evening, and Clark was the first one off. I
broke away from Clay and Lily and raced to embrace him. We hugged as if we hadn't
seen each other in years, pressing so close that we seemed to meld into one
body, and yes, we had matching erections. I hoped no one could see the bulges
in our jeans, and I was glad I'd had the foresight to wear Clark's jockstrap.
That seemed to keep my goods in check. Of course, I knew he was wearing mine,
too, for precisely the same reason. God, we do think alike. We came this close
to kissing right there in the Greyhound depot, but somehow managed not to.
After all, Clay was videotaping the entire reunion.
"I'm
gonna suck your dick tonight," Clark whispered in my ear. "You know
that, don't you?"
I shifted
to find his ear. "Not before I suck yours."
"Maybe
we can find a way to do it at the same time."
In honor
of Clark's arrival, Clay took us out to a fancy French restaurant. You know,
white tablecloths, menus with tassels, a cocktail pianist, and more silverware
than we'd ever seen in our life. Clark and I sat
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