Bodies of Work

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Jacksonville, FL

BOB WAS WAITING for me at the Omni when I drove up to the marquee. He got in the car, and I said, “Did you get enough sleep?”

“For now.”

“Good, then let’s enjoy lunch.”

I took him to the European Street Café, which wasn’t my favorite restaurant, but it had a large gay clientele, and I thought he might enjoy the atmosphere. We were seated side by side on a banquette, enjoying our lunch and conversation, when I glanced toward the entrance and saw a familiar face waiting in line. I leaned over and whispered in Bob’s ear, “See the nerdy-looking guy wearing glasses? He’s near the head of the line at the door.”

“Yes.”

“I’m going to do something totally out of character for me. Watch his reaction for me as best you can. I’ll explain later.”

“Okay.”

That being said, I began to nuzzle Bob’s neck a bit and leaned over for an ostensibly impulsive kiss or two. Then I took his hand and pressed it to my mouth for a minute. Putting my lips to his ear, I said, “What did he do during all of that?”

Bob pitched his voice very low and said, “His eyes got as big as saucers, and his jaw sort of dropped. He certainly looked unhappy.”

“Good. This guy has been sort of stalking me at the YMCA. Maybe my little display will give him a hint that I’m not available.”

“Stalking you how?”

Our heads were very close together, so we could speak as softly as possible, and I explained.

“Oh, that poor, sad, pathetic little man. You almost have to feel sorry for him.”

“Almost, but not quite.”

We finished our lunch, and Bob said, “Want to put on an encore performance for your little friend?”

“Sure.”

“Put your arm around me, and let’s walk out of here as though we’re joined at the hip.”

“That sounds like fun.”

We made our way to the cashier, paid the check, and went out to the car.

When I was behind the wheel, I said, “I don’t usually approve of public displays of affection, but that was certainly in a worthwhile cause.”

“I wonder if it worked?”

“Time will tell. I expect I’ll find out next time Mike and I go to the Y.”

“I don’t have to be at the club until four, what would you like to do now?”

“How about I take you home and show you my etchings?”

“Talk about tired old lines.”

“Was that a yes or a no?”

He reached over and began to caress me through my trousers. “What do you think?”

At the house, I took him on a quick tour, which ended in my bedroom. We undressed each other slowly and painstakingly, stopping for an occasional tease along the way. Stretched out full length on the bed, we were pressed as close together as possible, our erections stabbing each other.

“This is a nice way to spend an afternoon,” I said.

“It’d be even nicer if you did what you do so well.”

I rolled him over on his back and crawled between his legs.

“Exactly.”

I reached over to the nightstand, retrieved a condom, and rolled it in place. I knew, after the last two nights, that he didn’t require any preliminary stretching to get ready to receive me, so I raised his legs to my shoulders, found my target, and gently thrust all the way in.

“God, that feels so good,” he said.

“That it does.”

“Are you going to talk about it, or do it?”

Later, I stretched out on my side and watched him for a minute.

“Penny for your thoughts,” he said.

“That wouldn’t be much of a bargain at the moment. My mind is pretty much blank. A while ago I was about to tell you that I believe in reciprocity, if you wanted to switch roles.”

“Why would I do that? It couldn’t possibly be any better than this.”

“I won’t argue, but the offer is open.”

We talked for a bit, and he offered to come to the house after that night’s performance, so I drove him to the club and back to familiarize him with the streets, dropping him off at the Omni afterward. I returned to the house, changed clothes, and started working on the roof. I beavered steadily away at the project until hunger drove me to the kitchen. I made a sandwich and took it and a can of Coke back to the roof, stopping only to hook up the floodlights.

A bit later I heard a car pull up in the front driveway but paid no attention, thinking that Mike had probably come home. A minute or two later, I was shocked to hear a familiar gruff voice say, “Looking good, George, are you planning to quit your day job?”

I turned to see Captain Bridges standing at the top of the ladder.

“Hi, Captain. What’s up?”

“Not much. Sarah and I were in the neighborhood, so I thought I’d stop by for a minute.”

“Boss, I’ve never known you to do anything quite so spontaneous as ‘just stopping by’. Let me finish this shingle and I’ll be right down.”

He climbed back down without bothering to answer, and I put the last two nails in the current shingle and followed him. I found the captain and his wife standing by the ladder when I descended.

“Hi, Sarah,” I said. “It’s been too long. Won’t you come in for a minute?”

“We can’t stay, George,” the captain said.

“Sure we can, Henry,” she said. “I haven’t had a chance to visit with this young man in months. Not since the last Policeman’s Ball, in fact.”

I opened the kitchen door and led them through to the den. “Give me a minute to wash my hands,” I said, “and I’ll be right with you.”

In the kitchen, I did a quick wash and looked in the fridge. I grabbed a half-empty bottle of Pinot Grigio and carried it to the den, where I took three wineglasses from a shelf. I handed each of them a glass of wine and took one for myself.

“Okay, boss, once again, I’ll ask you. What’s up?”

“For one thing, we were actually in the area. We had an early dinner at Biscottis.”

“One of my favorite places.”

“Ours too,” Sarah said.

“I stand rebuked about the boss being spontaneous.”

“And,” the captain said, “I wanted to give you a heads-up about tomorrow.”

“This has something to do with the murder at Riverplace Tower, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, it does. I wasn’t expecting any pressure on this one, but the victim’s brother is screaming bloody murder, no pun intended, wanting justice.”

“What about the wife?”

“That’s what’s so odd. As far as I know, she hasn’t even tried to contact the department.”

“Does the brother have friends in high places?”

“Not that high, but high enough to make him slightly more equal than other pigs, to paraphrase Orwell.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“What you usually do. Give it your best shot. At the same time, be very aware that people may be looking over your shoulder and second-guessing every move.”

“I can tell you one thing: it wasn’t a robbery.”

“How do you know?” he said.

“Intuition. It just doesn’t ‘feel’ like a robbery, despite the missing wallet, watch, and ring.”

“I’ll accept that, given that you have the best track record I’ve ever seen when it comes to intuition. So what are you going to do?”

“The usual. Find out who benefits from this man’s death and follow the money, but very quietly and as much behind the scenes as possible.”

“Good.”

“Henry, are you through?” Sarah said.

“I’ve said my piece, dear, if that’s what you mean.”

“Good, because I want to see what George has done with this house since the last time we were here. How about the fifty-cent tour?”

“If you’ll pardon the mess, of course.”

I gave them a thorough tour, showing all of the various things I’d done to improve the house and explaining what I still had planned for it. Back in the den, we made ourselves comfortable with our glasses after I’d refilled them.

“You’ve done an amazing job with this house,” she said, “and what mess were you talking about? Everything seemed to be as neat as could be. I don’t think I’ve ever told you this, but I was quite familiar with this house as a girl and young woman.”

“You’re still a young woman.”

“I’m much too old to be impressed by flattery, George, but thank you. Anyway, my parents knew the couple that lived here back in the day, and we visited them quite often. You’ve taken a very ordinary old bungalow and turned it into something special.”

“Thanks. It’s still very much a work in progress, but the hardest part is over.”

“What was the hardest part?” Captain Bridges said.

“Rewiring. It was hard because I took the city’s homeowner’s test and did it myself. When I bought this place, there was only one electrical outlet in each room, and the light switches were the old-fashioned push-button kind. I had an electrical contractor run a new two hundred amp service from the street to a new breaker panel, and I did the rest.”

“That sounds like real work,” he said.

“Boss, you have no idea. I spent months crawling around in a very dusty attic, drilling holes through studs and partitions. Some of the wiring I found in the attic was fairly recent but so jury-rigged it’s a wonder the house hadn’t burned down long ago. Believe it or not, I actually found a heavy-duty extension cord being used to run power to one of the newest outlets in the house. It was really scary. I’m happy to say that although most of the original wiring is still in the walls, absolutely none of it is in use. Everything is new and up to code. I’ll tell you something else—there isn’t enough money in the world to make me do that for a living.”

We’d finished our wine by that time, and they left, but not before Sarah made me promise to visit them soon. I went outside and pulled the plug on the lights, then came back in and took a long, hot shower. Freshly showered and changed, I made myself a grilled chicken salad for supper. Then I cleaned up the kitchen, poured another glass of wine, and settled down in a recliner with a book. I must have dozed off, because I was awakened by the doorbell. I took a swallow from the wineglass, hurried to the front door, and let Bob in.

“Hi,” I said, giving him a quick kiss once he was inside. “How was the performance tonight?”

“Same old, same old. Been there, done that. It never changes.”

“You sound as though you’re bored with it.”

“Not really, but sometimes I get tired of dragging my ass from city to city and baring my artistic soul to mostly drunken strangers.”

“That sounds very cynical.”

“It’s a living, but it doesn’t allow much time for permanence in my life.”

“It must be really hard on your love life.”

“Love life? I don’t have a love life as such—I have a s*x life. Every so often, I meet somebody like you and have a really wonderful time for a few nights, but that’s as good as it’s ever going to get.”

“Would you like something to drink?” I said, feeling a need to change the subject.

“What did I taste on you just now?”

“Pinot Grigio.”

“That would be wonderful. You don’t find that sort of thing in most of the clubs.”

We took our wineglasses to the den. “I don’t mean to pry,” I said, “but is the money worth what you have to put up with and give up?”

“Unfortunately, it is. You have no idea how good it can be, once you have a reputation. If I finally manage to get noticed like Jim Bailey did, the sky’s the limit.”

“That sounds like a worthwhile goal.”

“It is, most of the time. Right now, what I need is a shower.”

I led him to the back of the house, and laid out fresh towels. He’d brought a small canvas bag into the house with him, and I saw that it contained clean clothes. I left him in the bathroom and went to my bedroom to turn down the covers. After that, I secured the house and turned off the lights, leaving only a night-light in the hallway. When he emerged from the bathroom, I was reclining in the bed, propped on pillows. He set the bag of clothes on a chair, climbed on the bed, and sat on me, straddling my torso. Reaching behind his back, he found my p***s and stroked it to attention. “Condom,” he said.

I reached into the top drawer of the nightstand and retrieved one, split the foil, removed the condom, and handed it to him. He took it and, without even looking, rolled it in place. Then he amazed me by raising up just enough to position himself over my erection, guiding it to the target, then he simply sat down on it. The sensation was amazing.

“Ever watch Six Feet Under?” he said as he bounced gently up and down on my erection.

“Sure. It used to be one of my favorite shows.”

“Remember the episode with the porn star?”

“Who could forget that one, what with the cans of cat food propping up her t**s in the coffin?”

“Do you remember what she said when David Fisher asked her about love?”

“Yes, I do. She said, ‘Honey, I loved every man I ever f****d, while I was f*****g him’.”

“Love me that way, George. Love me while you’re f*****g me. I know it’s not real, but I want to escape from reality for a while.”

I reached up and kissed him; then I flipped him over on his back without dislodging my erection. When I had his ankles over my shoulders, I did what he wanted me to do. When I went a little too fast, he said, “Slow down. Make it last as long as you can.”

I did as he asked, watching his face intently. His eyes seemed to go out of focus, and I knew that he was in another place for the time being. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, he came back to reality and said, “Now, George. Do it now.”

I didn’t have to ask what. I simply pounded as hard and as deep as I could, as fast as I could. I’d been holding myself on edge for so long by that time that it didn’t take long for both of us.

Later, as we cuddled in the afterglow, he said, “Thank you, George. That was just what I needed. I have to leave tomorrow for a gig downstate, but I can live on the memory of this for a long time.”

“You’re welcome. Not to sound trite, but it was good for me too.”

I turned out the lights, and we went to sleep. The next morning, when I woke up, I went to the kitchen and started coffee. We sort of had an unspoken agreement that the memory of the previous evening would only be sullied by early-morning s*x today. Not knowing what time Mike had come in the night before, I chose not to bother him. Back in my bedroom, I touched Bob on the shoulder, saying, “Time to wake up, sleeping beauty.”

“What?”

“It’s time to get up. Remember, you agreed to go to the Y with me this morning before I go to work and you return to the Omni.”

He sat up in the bed. “Give me a minute.”

“I have coffee ready in the kitchen. I’ll wait there.”

I took my gym bag to the kitchen and sat down with my coffee. A few minutes later, Bob joined me. We’d just finished our coffee when Mike literally staggered naked into the kitchen.

“Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in. Forgot to put your pants on, did you?”

“Shut up so I can die in peace. Coffee?”

“Sit down and I’ll get it for you.” I poured a cup and handed it to him.

He sat down and said, “Sorry, I didn’t know you had company, but if you don’t look under the table, you won’t have to see my magnificent organ.”

“Seen one, seen ‘em all,” Bob said.

“Bob,” I said, “this bedraggled human is my roommate and best friend Mike. Mike, meet Bob.”

“Hi, Mike, good to meet you,” Bob said.

Mike grunted an unenthusiastic “Hi” in answer.

“You’ll have to excuse Mike,” I said. “He spent most of yesterday afternoon, and evidently most of last night, playing with a pair of extremely athletic and enthusiastic twins.”

“You left out ‘totally insatiable’,” Mike said, “not to mention the fact that they’re somewhat younger than me.”

I looked at him closely. “Jesus, Mike, have you been rolling in an anthill?” I took an even closer look. “Holy s**t, those are love bites, aren’t they?” His body was a mass of little telltale bruises.

“I’ve got them in places you wouldn’t believe.”

“When you play, you have to pay.”

“God knows, I played… and now I’m paying.”

“Was it worth it?”

“Oh, yes. In spades. They did things I only ever read about in books. Very dirty books, to be precise.”

“Spare us the gory details,” I said, and chuckled. “We’re going to the Y, but in two cars, so I can go to work and Bob can go to his hotel.”

“I think I’ll pass today and go back to bed. I don’t think I could face the Nautilus machines, and God knows I couldn’t run around the block, let alone four or five miles.”

“Your call.”

We went to our cars and headed for Riverside Avenue.