Mark Wildyr's Blog, page 7

Cute as a Bug���s Ear (Part Two of Two Parts)

 Markwildyr.com, Post #208

 

Image Courtesy of freeimages.com:

 

In part one, we learned of the murders of five individuals in various cities of the United States. The murders had several things in common: The victims were all handsome men involved in the jewelry trade in some manner, and they had all been involved in gay sex at the time of their deaths��� apparently acting as ���bottoms.��� Additionally, they had all been strangled to death.

 

Last time, Chuck had just pointed out that anyone in the big Hardwig salesroom might be the killer. Ran had not reacted to that revelation well at all. Let���s see what happens next.

 

* * * * *

            CUTE AS A BUG���S EAR

Three days later, Chuck turned down another invitation from Ran for dinner and drinks. There wasn���t any reason for it; he wasn���t tied up that night, but it seemed safer to decline.

Despite turning his friend down, Chuck had one of his rare urges. He tried calling Athena, but got her answering service. So he threw on a jacket and took a bus to a popular bar across town. The place was active, but ���cute��� wasn���t doing it tonight. Either that or else, he was just too particular about a companion. He left and tried another bar down the street, one Ran liked to patronize. If he ran into the guy, he���d come up with some excuse.

He walked the block to the bar and stepped inside, but changed his mind and went to a nearby bus stop. It was deserted. The night had turned rainy and cold. He checked his watch. Crap. He���d missed the last bus. As he dithered over whether to call a taxi or start hiking, a dark car pulled to a stop in front of him. A Chevy of some sort.

���Miss your bus?��� the driver asked.

Chuck bent down to look into the lowered window, but the light was too poor to make out anything but the silhouette of a man. ���Yeah, but I���m going back to the bar and get a buddy to give me a lift.���

���No need. I���ll take you wherever you want to go. To the moon and back, if you want.��� A leer hid somewhere in that voice.

���No thanks.��� Chuck turned and walked down the street in the opposite direction from the way the man���s vehicle was headed. The bar was back down the street, but the predator���s car was still sitting at the bus stop, so Chuck kept walking. After a half a block, he thought he heard a noise behind him��� a shout, maybe. He turned and saw the shadow of a man thrown by a streetlamp. A shiver ran down his back. Was someone following him?

He lengthened his steps and headed straight for the Belvedere three blocks down the street. At least there would be people there. Trying to keep from breaking out into a run, he made for the hotel. But the guy was gaining on him. Now he could hear footsteps on the pavement behind him.

By the time he reached the revolving door to the hotel, they were close. He pushed through the heavy door and snatched a look. The man, he couldn���t see who, was entering the hotel, as well. Instead of going to the bar as his shadow would expect, he made for the elevator bank.

The doors opened, and Chuck made it into the car as he caught a glimpse of someone running for the elevator. He punched a random button and the doors closed. The elevator began moving. As it ascended, he considered his situation. He had no room key, once he exited the elevator, he���d have no place to go. Didn���t matter. All his pursuer���if that���s what it actually was���could do was watch to see what floor he exited. By the time the man followed him up, he could be halfway back to the lobby via the stairwell.

The car stopped at the fifth floor. Damn, he should have gone higher. Nonetheless he stepped out. Then he took too long trying to decide on whether or not to call up another elevator or actually run down the stairs. Maybe he should have simply stayed in the car and punched a button to a higher floor.

As he hesitated, the elevator to the right of where he stood pinged, signaling the arrival of another car. Hurriedly, he took off down the deserted corridor. Spotting the door to a broom closet, he opened it and dashed inside. Closing the door softly, he shrank back in the darkness, praying whoever exited that arriving elevator hadn���t seen him. Barely daring to breathe, he heard muffled footsteps in the hallway. They paused in front of the closet and then went on down the corridor. In moments, they returned and paused. The door handle rattled as someone grasped it. The door opened, and a male figure stood silhouetted against the light from the corridor.

���Chuck, is that you?���

Ran! Ran Billows.

���I���ve been trying to catch up with you for blocks, man. Saw someone stop for you at the bus stop. Guess that spooked you, otherwise, why would you be holed up in a broom closet at the Belvedere?���

Chuck gave an audible sigh. ���Yeah, that guy spooked me good. He was looking for a pick-up. And when I saw somebody behind me, I reacted to the moment and panicked.���

���Hell, I yelled at you, but you just kept on going.���

���Sorry, the murders have me on edge.���

���Yeah. Everybody. Thought you were tied up tonight.���

���Was,��� Chuck lied, ���but I finished early. Stopped at the bar, but didn���t see you.���

���I was there. Saw you come in and leave. That���s when the chase started.���

Chuck laughed. ���And we ended up in a hotel broom closet in the dark.���

���There oughta be a light in here somewhere.���

He heard Ran fumbling for a switch. A minute later, a bulb flooded the small space with light.

���And you found it.���

���Yeah, but I dunno why we didn���t just open the door and get outa here.���

Chuck drew a breath. ���Give me a minute to recover. My heart���s still pounding.��� He drew a flask from his jacket. ���Maybe this will help.��� He unscrewed the cap and tilted the flask. A moment later, he swiped his mouth. ���You need a bracer?���

Ran grinned. ���I guess this proves you can drink in a broom closet as readily as you can drink in a bar.��� He upended the flask and took a healthy drink. ���Wow, what was that?��� he gasped. ���It has a kick.���

���Special brew I concocted. Have another slug.���

Obediently, Ran took another healthy draw.

Chuck took off his jacket and hung it on a peg on the wall before unbuttoning his shirt.

���What��� what the hell��� you doing?��� Ran staggered against the wall.

���You���re feeling it, aren���t you? Why don���t you take off your shirt and get comfortable?���

���Wha���s happenin���?���

���What���s happening is I���m going to do what that predator offered to do for me. I���m going to send you to the moon.���

Ran tried to talk but had difficulty. Finally, he squeezed words from his voice box. ���Y-you, Chuck? You���re the one? You���.��� He slid down the wall to the floor.

Chuck calmly worked the buttons to Ran���s shirt, feeling the soft flesh covering the firm muscles of the man���s torso. Ran stared at him helplessly. Awake and aware��� but helpless.

Chuck took his time, enjoying himself. For three long years he���d eyed Ran, admiring his handsome features and sculpted body. He���d often gazed at Ran���s full basket and fantasized over what it would look like��� feel like. The man���s zipper gave way, and now he knew. As full and exciting as he���d dreamed.

He pushed Ran flat on the floor and tugged his britches down. Fantastic. He grew breathless as he entered his unwilling lover. Ran made strangled noises when Chuck went to work completing the fantasy he���d built in his mind for so long. Ran made an effort to talk, but Chuck shushed him.

���I���ll��� uh, answer your questions. I didn���t take a drink, just faked it, so I���m not going to pass out.��� He hunched hard. ���Unless it���s from ecstasy from making love to you. Oh, man, you have a great ass!��� He paused to pay attention to his building pleasure. ���I���ve��� uh, oh ��� I���ve been thinking of this from the first time I laid eyes on you. You were my dream, Ran. But unapproachable. I knew that from the beginning.���

He paused to thrust deeper. ���Took me years to figure out how��� oh! How to achieve my dream. Tried it out on five other guys to make sure��� sure���. Wow, that was a sweet spot! Make sure it worked. Then the problem was to get you alone without anyone knowing we were together. But you gave me a hand when you followed me.:

Chuck���s voice died as the greatest orgasm of his life claimed him. He bucked as it went on and on for an extraordinary length of time. Finally, he dropped against Ran���s naked back, enjoying he warmth and intimacy. After a long period of simply lying body to body while he recovered, he sighed and withdrew.

���Now comes the part I don���t like,��� he said with an apologetic tone in his voice. ���But there���s no way around it. After all, I not only made mad, passionate love to you, but I confessed everything. Oh, I know what you���re thinking. They���ll catch me because I���m leaving DNA behind. But don���t worry. Nobody has my DNA. And DNA���s no good unless you have someone to compare it to. Anyway, that���s the way it���s been in the past.��� He pulled Ran���s belt from his trousers. ���Sorry, guy But I want you to know you were the best. I mean it. That���s not just talk, that���s truth, man.

He snaked the leather belt around Ran���s head and began pulling.

* * * *

Well, was the ending a surprise or not? Since we were in Chuck���s head, I tried not to give him thoughts or reactions that were inappropriate, but which wouldn���t give away the ending. When he started at something he heard or a chill ran down his back, that was appropriate because he knew the truth and certain thoughts or actions would make him react.

 

So tell me, dear readers, did I accomplish my task? Let me know.

Please friend this site. Apparently, that matters in the internet world.

 

JMS Books advises that The Victor and the Vanquished has now been published as a print book. The same is true of all the books in the Cut Hand series (5 of them) and Charlie Blackbear.

 

My contact information is provided below in case anyone wants to drop me a line:

Website and blog: markwildyr.com

Email: markwildyr@aol.com

Facebook: www.facebook.com/mark.wildyr

Twitter: @markwildyr

Now my mantra: Keep on reading. Keep on writing. You have something to say, so say it!

See you later.

 

 

Mark

 

New posts the first and third Thursday of the month at 6:00 a.m., US Mountain time.

Cute as a Bug’s Ear (Part Two of Two Parts)

 Markwildyr.com, Post #208

 

Image Courtesy of freeimages.com:

 

In part one, we learned of the murders of five individuals in various cities of the United States. The murders had several things in common: The victims were all handsome men involved in the jewelry trade in some manner, and they had all been involved in gay sex at the time of their deaths… apparently acting as “bottoms.” Additionally, they had all been strangled to death.

 

Last time, Chuck had just pointed out that anyone in the big Hardwig salesroom might be the killer. Ran had not reacted to that revelation well at all. Let’s see what happens next.

 

* * * * *

            CUTE AS A BUG’S EAR

Three days later, Chuck turned down another invitation from Ran for dinner and drinks. There wasn’t any reason for it; he wasn’t tied up that night, but it seemed safer to decline.

Despite turning his friend down, Chuck had one of his rare urges. He tried calling Athena, but got her answering service. So he threw on a jacket and took a bus to a popular bar across town. The place was active, but “cute” wasn’t doing it tonight. Either that or else, he was just too particular about a companion. He left and tried another bar down the street, one Ran liked to patronize. If he ran into the guy, he’d come up with some excuse.

He walked the block to the bar and stepped inside, but changed his mind and went to a nearby bus stop. It was deserted. The night had turned rainy and cold. He checked his watch. Crap. He’d missed the last bus. As he dithered over whether to call a taxi or start hiking, a dark car pulled to a stop in front of him. A Chevy of some sort.

“Miss your bus?” the driver asked.

Chuck bent down to look into the lowered window, but the light was too poor to make out anything but the silhouette of a man. “Yeah, but I’m going back to the bar and get a buddy to give me a lift.”

“No need. I’ll take you wherever you want to go. To the moon and back, if you want.” A leer hid somewhere in that voice.

“No thanks.” Chuck turned and walked down the street in the opposite direction from the way the man’s vehicle was headed. The bar was back down the street, but the predator’s car was still sitting at the bus stop, so Chuck kept walking. After a half a block, he thought he heard a noise behind him… a shout, maybe. He turned and saw the shadow of a man thrown by a streetlamp. A shiver ran down his back. Was someone following him?

He lengthened his steps and headed straight for the Belvedere three blocks down the street. At least there would be people there. Trying to keep from breaking out into a run, he made for the hotel. But the guy was gaining on him. Now he could hear footsteps on the pavement behind him.

By the time he reached the revolving door to the hotel, they were close. He pushed through the heavy door and snatched a look. The man, he couldn’t see who, was entering the hotel, as well. Instead of going to the bar as his shadow would expect, he made for the elevator bank.

The doors opened, and Chuck made it into the car as he caught a glimpse of someone running for the elevator. He punched a random button and the doors closed. The elevator began moving. As it ascended, he considered his situation. He had no room key, once he exited the elevator, he’d have no place to go. Didn’t matter. All his pursuer—if that’s what it actually was—could do was watch to see what floor he exited. By the time the man followed him up, he could be halfway back to the lobby via the stairwell.

The car stopped at the fifth floor. Damn, he should have gone higher. Nonetheless he stepped out. Then he took too long trying to decide on whether or not to call up another elevator or actually run down the stairs. Maybe he should have simply stayed in the car and punched a button to a higher floor.

As he hesitated, the elevator to the right of where he stood pinged, signaling the arrival of another car. Hurriedly, he took off down the deserted corridor. Spotting the door to a broom closet, he opened it and dashed inside. Closing the door softly, he shrank back in the darkness, praying whoever exited that arriving elevator hadn’t seen him. Barely daring to breathe, he heard muffled footsteps in the hallway. They paused in front of the closet and then went on down the corridor. In moments, they returned and paused. The door handle rattled as someone grasped it. The door opened, and a male figure stood silhouetted against the light from the corridor.

“Chuck, is that you?”

Ran! Ran Billows.

“I’ve been trying to catch up with you for blocks, man. Saw someone stop for you at the bus stop. Guess that spooked you, otherwise, why would you be holed up in a broom closet at the Belvedere?”

Chuck gave an audible sigh. “Yeah, that guy spooked me good. He was looking for a pick-up. And when I saw somebody behind me, I reacted to the moment and panicked.”

“Hell, I yelled at you, but you just kept on going.”

“Sorry, the murders have me on edge.”

“Yeah. Everybody. Thought you were tied up tonight.”

“Was,” Chuck lied, “but I finished early. Stopped at the bar, but didn’t see you.”

“I was there. Saw you come in and leave. That’s when the chase started.”

Chuck laughed. “And we ended up in a hotel broom closet in the dark.”

“There oughta be a light in here somewhere.”

He heard Ran fumbling for a switch. A minute later, a bulb flooded the small space with light.

“And you found it.”

“Yeah, but I dunno why we didn’t just open the door and get outa here.”

Chuck drew a breath. “Give me a minute to recover. My heart’s still pounding.” He drew a flask from his jacket. “Maybe this will help.” He unscrewed the cap and tilted the flask. A moment later, he swiped his mouth. “You need a bracer?”

Ran grinned. “I guess this proves you can drink in a broom closet as readily as you can drink in a bar.” He upended the flask and took a healthy drink. “Wow, what was that?” he gasped. “It has a kick.”

“Special brew I concocted. Have another slug.”

Obediently, Ran took another healthy draw.

Chuck took off his jacket and hung it on a peg on the wall before unbuttoning his shirt.

“What… what the hell… you doing?” Ran staggered against the wall.

“You’re feeling it, aren’t you? Why don’t you take off your shirt and get comfortable?”

“Wha’s happenin’?”

“What’s happening is I’m going to do what that predator offered to do for me. I’m going to send you to the moon.”

Ran tried to talk but had difficulty. Finally, he squeezed words from his voice box. “Y-you, Chuck? You’re the one? You….” He slid down the wall to the floor.

Chuck calmly worked the buttons to Ran’s shirt, feeling the soft flesh covering the firm muscles of the man’s torso. Ran stared at him helplessly. Awake and aware… but helpless.

Chuck took his time, enjoying himself. For three long years he’d eyed Ran, admiring his handsome features and sculpted body. He’d often gazed at Ran’s full basket and fantasized over what it would look like… feel like. The man’s zipper gave way, and now he knew. As full and exciting as he’d dreamed.

He pushed Ran flat on the floor and tugged his britches down. Fantastic. He grew breathless as he entered his unwilling lover. Ran made strangled noises when Chuck went to work completing the fantasy he’d built in his mind for so long. Ran made an effort to talk, but Chuck shushed him.

“I’ll… uh, answer your questions. I didn’t take a drink, just faked it, so I’m not going to pass out.” He hunched hard. “Unless it’s from ecstasy from making love to you. Oh, man, you have a great ass!” He paused to pay attention to his building pleasure. “I’ve… uh, oh … I’ve been thinking of this from the first time I laid eyes on you. You were my dream, Ran. But unapproachable. I knew that from the beginning.”

He paused to thrust deeper. “Took me years to figure out how… oh! How to achieve my dream. Tried it out on five other guys to make sure… sure…. Wow, that was a sweet spot! Make sure it worked. Then the problem was to get you alone without anyone knowing we were together. But you gave me a hand when you followed me.:

Chuck’s voice died as the greatest orgasm of his life claimed him. He bucked as it went on and on for an extraordinary length of time. Finally, he dropped against Ran’s naked back, enjoying he warmth and intimacy. After a long period of simply lying body to body while he recovered, he sighed and withdrew.

“Now comes the part I don’t like,” he said with an apologetic tone in his voice. “But there’s no way around it. After all, I not only made mad, passionate love to you, but I confessed everything. Oh, I know what you’re thinking. They’ll catch me because I’m leaving DNA behind. But don’t worry. Nobody has my DNA. And DNA’s no good unless you have someone to compare it to. Anyway, that’s the way it’s been in the past.” He pulled Ran’s belt from his trousers. “Sorry, guy But I want you to know you were the best. I mean it. That’s not just talk, that’s truth, man.

He snaked the leather belt around Ran’s head and began pulling.

* * * *

Well, was the ending a surprise or not? Since we were in Chuck’s head, I tried not to give him thoughts or reactions that were inappropriate, but which wouldn’t give away the ending. When he started at something he heard or a chill ran down his back, that was appropriate because he knew the truth and certain thoughts or actions would make him react.

 

So tell me, dear readers, did I accomplish my task? Let me know.

Please friend this site. Apparently, that matters in the internet world.

 

JMS Books advises that The Victor and the Vanquished has now been published as a print book. The same is true of all the books in the Cut Hand series (5 of them) and Charlie Blackbear.

 

My contact information is provided below in case anyone wants to drop me a line:

Website and blog: markwildyr.com

Email: markwildyr@aol.com

Facebook: www.facebook.com/mark.wildyr

Twitter: @markwildyr

Now my mantra: Keep on reading. Keep on writing. You have something to say, so say it!

See you later.

 

 

Mark

 

New posts the first and third Thursday of the month at 6:00 a.m., US Mountain time.

Cute as a Bug���s Ear (Part One of Two Parts)

Markwildyr.com, Post #207

Image Courtesy of freeimages.com:

Hope everyone had a great holiday season and is now ready to get back into the groove��� or the rut, whichever applies.

Let���s try a two-part story today.

* * * * *

            CUTE AS A BUG���S EAR

Cute as a bug���s ear. He���d heard that all his life. Not handsome, but cute as a bug���s ear. That description bothered him as a teenager, but now he���d come to terms with it. Possibly because ���cute��� got him about as many sexual partners as he could handle. Of course, he didn���t have a very active libido, so perhaps he was giving the ���cute��� thing too much credit. But when he did feel the urge, he always went on the hunt. Athena, his boss���s secretary had been his last conquest��� until today. He closed the hotel door firmly behind him and headed for the elevator, feeling himself almost purr. The experience had been spectacular. His loins tickled at the recollection.

Once out on the street, he caught a bus and headed straight for his office downtown, where he sat at his desk in the bullpen and wrote up his orders. It had been a good day all round. In fact, his life could be described that way.  He signed off on his last order and sat back to contemplate that thought.

Charles Rigsby Lewison���Chuck to his coworkers and friends, and Chucky to certain others���was twenty-five, happily single, and a three-year employee of the Hardwig Wholesale Jewelry Company, recently transferred from accounting to a sales desk. He grinned wryly. Maybe that ���cute thing��� was a blessing in more ways than one. Overly handsome salesmen often seemed a threat to customers, whereas cute ones were tolerated and even sought out. Pleasant enough to be around without seeming to be a threat. Or that was his assessment, anyway.

���Hey, Chuck,��� have a good day?���

He turned at the sound of his closest neighbor, Ranson Billows. Ran had the desk in the corner nearest Chuck���s own.

���Decent.��� He downplayed things. Ran was one of those pretty boys Chuck figured sparked caution with customers. ���You?���

���Not bad. You wanna have a bite to eat and hit the bar later?���

���Sorry. Have a date.���

���She have a sister?���

���Yeah, older and married. But I could ask���.���

���No, thanks,��� Ran said. ���Another time.���

Actually, Chuck was wishing he could find a way out of this evening���s engagement with Athena. She was a good lay, but nothing compared to this afternoon���s experience. He���d already had his ashes hauled today��� spectacularly so. He didn���t need another session. But he was caught.

****

The next morning, Chuck arrived at the office a little worse for the wear. He���d been unable to get out of last night���s date, and Athena had been her usual demanding self. A cup of the office���s strong coffee perked him up enough to catch the gist of conversations going on around him. They were all similar.

Ran came over to his desk. ���Did you hear?���

Yeah, he���d heard it ever since he stepped in the room, but he played dumb to let Ran think he was telling it to one of the uninformed.

���Murder last night at the Bright Star.���

The Bright Star was one of the city���s better hotels. The one where he���d had his assignation yesterday, as a matter of fact. Chuck shrugged. ���So? This town has its share of killings.���

���But this one hits close to home. One of our customers. Tilletson from Philadelphia. In town yesterday to do some buying.���

Chuck frowned. ���I know him.���

���We all do. You remember three months ago when that California buyer got himself killed downtown?���

���Yeah. Was that at the Star?���

Ran shook his head. ���No, the Riverview. But he was in the business and died the same way.���

���How was that?���

���Strangled. From behind.���

Chuck shook his head. ���Tilletson was a pretty muscular fellow. Be hard to strangle him, I���d guess.���

Ran frowned. ���Yeah. That���s true. He wouldn���t just lie there and let somebody choke him to death. Something���s missing. But he was naked and apparently having sex. Weird kind of sex, or so I hear.���

Before they could pursue the matter further, their boss stepped out of his office and called for attention. Athena stood beside him looking a great deal perkier than Chuck felt.

���Fellas,��� Bill Bley started. He called all of them ���fellas,��� even though there were a couple of women salespersons among them. ���We all heard the news about Mr. Tilletson���s murder last night. I���ve just spoken with a friend of mine down at police headquarters, and he reminded me that a jeweler from Fresno was similarly killed three months back. We all knew this, but what we didn���t know was that their have been two other killings of a similar manner, one in Chicago, and the other in Atlanta.���

Bill glanced around the room. ���That���s not enough for the police to reach any firm conclusions, but it is for me. Someone���s preying on people in our trade. And that means every one of you is at risk. When you go out on your calls, be super aware of what���s going on around you. Report anything suspicious.���

���Other than them being in the jewelry business, what ties the killings together?��� someone asked from across the room.

���Were all of them men,��� one of the saleswomen asked.

Bill managed to look embarrassed. ���Well, other than being in the jewelry business and being murdered, they were all in indelicate situations.���

���Meaning?��� Ran asked.

���Well��� ah, meaning they were all naked and had been engaged in sexual acts. Unnatural sexual acts. They���d been acting as��� well, as bottoms, I think the expression is in gay circles. And to answer your question, Louann, yes. All the victims were male.���

Ran spoke up. ���I knew Tilletson, we all did. He wasn���t gay!���

Murmurs ran around the room. The opinion on that wasn���t unanimous. Chuck figured there was some of that prejudice going on. Tilletson had been one of those handsome guys. And these days, who knew what about whom? Chuck remembered the time the butchest guy in college had tried to corner him in the boy���s rest room.

****

Over the next week, an air of tension settled over the salespeople at Hardwig. The anxiety heightened with the report of a fifth victim dying under similar circumstances in Denver.

Ran put it best. ���Damn, Chuck, I feel like a killer���s dogging my footsteps. I���ve been to everyone of those cities. So have you. So have most of us.���

���Yeah, but at least, none of us were in Denver recently.���

���That doesn���t mean anything. I understand that killing took place last May.���

A chill ran down Chuck���s back. ���You know what that means, don���t you?���

���What?���

���Someone in this room could be the killer.���

���Jeez��� don���t say that, man.���

���Why not? It���s true.���

Chuck wished he���d kept his mouth shut. Ran retreated deeper into gloom and apparently told others, because the atmosphere in the big room went south.

* * * *

Murder, so foul���s afoot. Will it reach out and touch Chuck and Ran and the Hardwig crew? We���ll see in next week���s conclusion.

 

Please friend this site. Apparently, that matters in the internet world.

 

JMS Books advises that The Victor and the Vanquished has now been published as a print book. The same is true of all the books in the Cut Hand series (5 of them) and Charlie Blackbear.

 

My contact information is provided below in case anyone wants to drop me a line:

Website and blog: markwildyr.com

Email: markwildyr@aol.com

Facebook: www.facebook.com/mark.wildyr

Twitter: @markwildyr

Now my mantra: Keep on reading. Keep on writing. You have something to say, so say it!

See you later.

 

 

Mark

 

New posts the first and third Thursday of the month at 6:00 a.m., US Mountain time. 

Cute as a Bug’s Ear (Part One of Two Parts)

Markwildyr.com, Post #207

Image Courtesy of freeimages.com:

Hope everyone had a great holiday season and is now ready to get back into the groove… or the rut, whichever applies.

Let’s try a two-part story today.

* * * * *

            CUTE AS A BUG’S EAR

Cute as a bug’s ear. He’d heard that all his life. Not handsome, but cute as a bug’s ear. That description bothered him as a teenager, but now he’d come to terms with it. Possibly because “cute” got him about as many sexual partners as he could handle. Of course, he didn’t have a very active libido, so perhaps he was giving the “cute” thing too much credit. But when he did feel the urge, he always went on the hunt. Athena, his boss’s secretary had been his last conquest… until today. He closed the hotel door firmly behind him and headed for the elevator, feeling himself almost purr. The experience had been spectacular. His loins tickled at the recollection.

Once out on the street, he caught a bus and headed straight for his office downtown, where he sat at his desk in the bullpen and wrote up his orders. It had been a good day all round. In fact, his life could be described that way.  He signed off on his last order and sat back to contemplate that thought.

Charles Rigsby Lewison—Chuck to his coworkers and friends, and Chucky to certain others—was twenty-five, happily single, and a three-year employee of the Hardwig Wholesale Jewelry Company, recently transferred from accounting to a sales desk. He grinned wryly. Maybe that “cute thing” was a blessing in more ways than one. Overly handsome salesmen often seemed a threat to customers, whereas cute ones were tolerated and even sought out. Pleasant enough to be around without seeming to be a threat. Or that was his assessment, anyway.

“Hey, Chuck,” have a good day?”

He turned at the sound of his closest neighbor, Ranson Billows. Ran had the desk in the corner nearest Chuck’s own.

“Decent.” He downplayed things. Ran was one of those pretty boys Chuck figured sparked caution with customers. “You?”

“Not bad. You wanna have a bite to eat and hit the bar later?”

“Sorry. Have a date.”

“She have a sister?”

“Yeah, older and married. But I could ask….”

“No, thanks,” Ran said. “Another time.”

Actually, Chuck was wishing he could find a way out of this evening’s engagement with Athena. She was a good lay, but nothing compared to this afternoon’s experience. He’d already had his ashes hauled today… spectacularly so. He didn’t need another session. But he was caught.

****

The next morning, Chuck arrived at the office a little worse for the wear. He’d been unable to get out of last night’s date, and Athena had been her usual demanding self. A cup of the office’s strong coffee perked him up enough to catch the gist of conversations going on around him. They were all similar.

Ran came over to his desk. “Did you hear?”

Yeah, he’d heard it ever since he stepped in the room, but he played dumb to let Ran think he was telling it to one of the uninformed.

“Murder last night at the Bright Star.”

The Bright Star was one of the city’s better hotels. The one where he’d had his assignation yesterday, as a matter of fact. Chuck shrugged. “So? This town has its share of killings.”

“But this one hits close to home. One of our customers. Tilletson from Philadelphia. In town yesterday to do some buying.”

Chuck frowned. “I know him.”

“We all do. You remember three months ago when that California buyer got himself killed downtown?”

“Yeah. Was that at the Star?”

Ran shook his head. “No, the Riverview. But he was in the business and died the same way.”

“How was that?”

“Strangled. From behind.”

Chuck shook his head. “Tilletson was a pretty muscular fellow. Be hard to strangle him, I’d guess.”

Ran frowned. “Yeah. That’s true. He wouldn’t just lie there and let somebody choke him to death. Something’s missing. But he was naked and apparently having sex. Weird kind of sex, or so I hear.”

Before they could pursue the matter further, their boss stepped out of his office and called for attention. Athena stood beside him looking a great deal perkier than Chuck felt.

“Fellas,” Bill Bley started. He called all of them “fellas,” even though there were a couple of women salespersons among them. “We all heard the news about Mr. Tilletson’s murder last night. I’ve just spoken with a friend of mine down at police headquarters, and he reminded me that a jeweler from Fresno was similarly killed three months back. We all knew this, but what we didn’t know was that their have been two other killings of a similar manner, one in Chicago, and the other in Atlanta.”

Bill glanced around the room. “That’s not enough for the police to reach any firm conclusions, but it is for me. Someone’s preying on people in our trade. And that means every one of you is at risk. When you go out on your calls, be super aware of what’s going on around you. Report anything suspicious.”

“Other than them being in the jewelry business, what ties the killings together?” someone asked from across the room.

“Were all of them men,” one of the saleswomen asked.

Bill managed to look embarrassed. “Well, other than being in the jewelry business and being murdered, they were all in indelicate situations.”

“Meaning?” Ran asked.

“Well… ah, meaning they were all naked and had been engaged in sexual acts. Unnatural sexual acts. They’d been acting as… well, as bottoms, I think the expression is in gay circles. And to answer your question, Louann, yes. All the victims were male.”

Ran spoke up. “I knew Tilletson, we all did. He wasn’t gay!”

Murmurs ran around the room. The opinion on that wasn’t unanimous. Chuck figured there was some of that prejudice going on. Tilletson had been one of those handsome guys. And these days, who knew what about whom? Chuck remembered the time the butchest guy in college had tried to corner him in the boy’s rest room.

****

Over the next week, an air of tension settled over the salespeople at Hardwig. The anxiety heightened with the report of a fifth victim dying under similar circumstances in Denver.

Ran put it best. “Damn, Chuck, I feel like a killer’s dogging my footsteps. I’ve been to everyone of those cities. So have you. So have most of us.”

“Yeah, but at least, none of us were in Denver recently.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. I understand that killing took place last May.”

A chill ran down Chuck’s back. “You know what that means, don’t you?”

“What?”

“Someone in this room could be the killer.”

“Jeez… don’t say that, man.”

“Why not? It’s true.”

Chuck wished he’d kept his mouth shut. Ran retreated deeper into gloom and apparently told others, because the atmosphere in the big room went south.

* * * *

Murder, so foul’s afoot. Will it reach out and touch Chuck and Ran and the Hardwig crew? We’ll see in next week’s conclusion.

 

Please friend this site. Apparently, that matters in the internet world.

 

JMS Books advises that The Victor and the Vanquished has now been published as a print book. The same is true of all the books in the Cut Hand series (5 of them) and Charlie Blackbear.

 

My contact information is provided below in case anyone wants to drop me a line:

Website and blog: markwildyr.com

Email: markwildyr@aol.com

Facebook: www.facebook.com/mark.wildyr

Twitter: @markwildyr

Now my mantra: Keep on reading. Keep on writing. You have something to say, so say it!

See you later.

 

 

Mark

 

New posts the first and third Thursday of the month at 6:00 a.m., US Mountain time. 

Best Wishes for the Holiday Season

Markwildyr.com, Post #206

Image Courtesy of 4freephotos.com:

Thanks, guys, for our favorable comments on Nothing but the Best.

* * * * *

                 MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A     HAPPY HOLIDAY           SEASON

I’d like to sneak in an extra post this month to wish everyone a Merry Christmas or a Happy Holiday Season, whichever is appropriate to you, the reader. And here’s hoping that 2022 is a better year for us all.

 I r

ecommend that you

read Don Travis’ post for December 23 at dontravis.com. He has a little flash fiction piece for his readers.

* * * *

I’ll be back on my regular schedule of the first and third posting beginning on January 6.

 

Please friend this site. Apparently, that matters in the internet world.

 

JMS Books advises that The Victor and the Vanquished has now been published as a print book. The same is true of all the books in the Cut Hand series (5 of them), and Charlie Blackbear.

 M

y contact information is provided below in case anyone wants to drop me a line:

Website and blog: markwildyr.com

Email: markwildyr@aol.com

Facebook: www.facebook.com/mark.wildyr

Twitter: @markwildyr

Now my mantra: Keep on reading. Keep on writing. You have something to say, so say it!

See you later.

 

 

Mark

 

New posts the first and third Thursday of the month at 6:00 a.m., US Mountain time.

Nothing But the Best (Part 3 of 3 Parts)

 Markwildyr.com, Post #205

 

Image Courtesy of inequality.org

 

Well, Willie has made his plans. He’s tried it with a girl and with a good-looking dude named Birch, and now he’s ready to tackle his friend Yancy (AKA Nothin’). But he has no idea how to do that. Let’s watch him blunder around and figure it out.

* * * * *

NOTHING BUT THE BEST

I ran across Nothin’ in the library the next day and threw my books on the table opposite his. “Back in a minute,” I said before heading into the stacks and getting the reference book I needed. He was still scribbling in his notebook when I got back.

How you doing?” he asked when I plopped into a chair.

“Tolerable. You?”

He grimaced. “Amy and I are on the outs.”

My heart raced. “Permanent?”

“Naw.” He threw down his ballpoint and rubbed his eyes. “Don’t think so. She wants me to go home with her next weekend, but I don’t think I’m ready for that. Not yet.”

“So tell her no, and go with me.”

“Go with you where?”

“That caught me off base, making me scramble for an answer. “Tennis team’s going to Hobart next Saturday. Come and watch a civilized sport for a change. There’s enough room on the bus.”

“Nah. I’d rather drive myself.”

“Want company?” I asked, hoping I didn’t sound too anxious.

“You’re serious about this?”

I shrugged. “Any port in a storm. Gets you outa seeing the maybe-future-in-laws.”

“Yeah, and I wouldn’t have to lie to her. I can say I’m driving you to the match.”

Wow! That easy, huh? Then I glanced over his shoulder and caught Birch standing in the doorway looking around uncertainly. I saw the moment he focused on me and gave a little shake of my head. Could he see it from there?

Apparently not, he came over and claimed the seat beside me. “Hi, guys.”

He got a glum “hi” from me and nothing from Nothin’.

As soon as Birch’s butt was in the seat, Nothin’ stood. “What time’s the match on Saturday?”

“Starts at ten,” I said.

“How about we meet for breakfast at eight, and we’ll drive over afterward.”

“Good enough.”

He tossed a “See ya” at the table and left. I watched his bewitching, macho walk all the way to the door.”

“What’s up?” Birch wanted to know.

“We’re going to the matches in Hobart, Saturday.”

“On the bus?”

I shook my head. “Driving over in his car.”

“Oh.” I heard the disappointment in his voice, but he recovered. “My roomie’s going to a concert with his girl on Thursday. So we’ll have the room.”

“No thanks, guy. That was just a one-time thing.”

“Come on, you enjoyed the hell out of it.”

“Pleasant. But not for a steady diet.”

“Maybe not, but it’ll serve as a snack now and then.”

Might as well keep my options open. “I’ll keep it in mind. Gotta run.”

****

After a sleepless night, I arrived at breakfast early and found Nothin’ already there. But this was a different Nothin’. Down, man, down. He was all but blubbering. Well, that’s an exaggeration, but he was blue. Wasn’t sure I wanted to be locked up in a car with him for half an hour.

“What is it, bro?” I asked.

He gave me a long look, and I wasn’t certain he’d even heard my question, much less answer it. At length, he did.

“Amy, man. She broke it off when I wouldn’t go home with her.”

“Aw, man, I’m sorry if I—”

He waved an arm. “Naw. I wasn’t gonna go anyway. You just gave me the excuse. Told her I’d promised you a ride.” He cut me off at the pass as I started to offer to release him from his promise. “I’m caught now. I gotta go through with it. Let’s grab some grub and get started.”

Things improved as we ate but went downhill in the car. He started out saying how he’d miss her. How she was sweet and thoughtful and caring.

“Then why didn’t you go home with her?”

He paused to think over his answer. “Not ready to be tied down yet. It’s going too fast. I might get there one day, but not right now. Now probably won’t have the chance.”

And then he took me by surprise. He started off by admitting the thing he’d miss the most was—to put it semi-politely—was the nookie.

“She was great, man. Best girl in bed I’ve ever had. She knew how to grab my attention. As he described some of their sessions, it sure grabbed my attention, I can tell you. My britches were poking out so far, he’d have to be blind not to see. I did my best to cover things, but it was getting hard to do.

He swerved right down a farm road. “Man, I’m in no shape for this. You’ll have to drive, okay?”

“Y-yeah, sure.”

He pulled into a little copse of locusts and shut off the motor. When he got out to exchange seats, I went around the front of the car while he went around the other way. Otherwise, he’d see my condition for sure. As I slid my butt into the driver’s seat, I realized I’d thrown away a great opportunity.

I reached for the key as he got in the passenger’s seat. It wasn’t there.

“Hey, man,” I said. “The key!”

“Huh?”

“You took the key.”

“Oh. Let me have a minute to get ahold of myself, okay? Really appreciate you being here for me.”

Out of pure empathy—not lust—I reached out and grasped his bicep. But the warmth of the touch, the firmness and shape of the muscle soon took care of that. He didn’t shake me off, so I left my hand where it was and let it burn.

“Sure. Glad to.” I swallowed hard. “Really.”

He half reclined his seat, tearing my grip loose. I quickly reached over and put my other hand on his chest. He took a deep breath but didn’t brush me away. My fingertips felt charred.

He covered his eyes with his left hand and kept mumbling about Amy this and Amy that. I just took advantage of the moment and laser-scanned his fascinating torso, his six-pac, and his groin. From what he’d mumbled, she’d done all sorts of things to that groin. I was taken by surprise when my hand slid down his chest to his abs. He didn’t flinch, merely kept mumbling about Amy.

Wasn’t any way I was going to stop now. Not unless he put up a fight. I had a little trouble with his belt, but he still didn’t react. Now just a button and a zipper stood between me and my goal. Now just a zipper. And now…. I slipped my hand inside his jeans and felt the warmth and the bulk of what lay below. I glanced at him, but his arm still covered his eyes. His handsome lips were parted a bit, moving slightly. Was he still moaning about Amy?

Suddenly incensed—at what, I don’t know—I pulled down his shorts and exposed him. Big, halfway firm. I grasped him and felt him grow.

“Oh, Amy…” The words were faint, uncertain.

Determined to make him stop caterwauling about her.” I lowered my head and went to work. I felt his body jerk, and knew he was back from wherever he’d been? What would happen now? I kept on working at something I’d never done before, calling on my experience with Birth for tips. I rolled my tongue around the end… something I’d liked when Birch did it… and earned a loud “Oh… Willie!”

He put his hands on either side of my head, not to jerk me away, to push me down on him. I nearly suffocated but did what he wanted. It seemed to go on forever, his increasingly excited expressions of extasy driving me onward. Just as I thought my jaws would break or lock up or something, he gave a gigantic thrust with his hips and howled so loud it startled me. Then he filled me to over-capacity with a warm, not unpleasant emission. This guy could cum! I remember that thought even as I tried to keep from strangling. As long as it took him to get there, it took almost as long to work his way through his orgasm. Finally, he went limp, and I came up, uncertain what kind of reception I’d find.

He dropped a hand on my arm. “Sorry man to be such a bummer. But you sure brought me out of it. Thanks.” He tossed me the key as he went about stuffing himself back inside his pants. “You drive, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.”

I was a little dizzy at the way things had happened so abruptly and—well, so matter-of-factly. Almost like I didn’t have anything to do with it. What did the guy think of me after I’d gobbled him down? Wasn’t what I had in mind. I blinked. What had I had in mind? Not that, but heck, you can’t get any more personal than that. It was unsettling, but I’d accomplished my purpose, sort of. I’d measure it against the other experiences later.

No one said much for the rest of the short trip. Nothin’ knew everybody as school, so he went about making each member of the tennis team—and the coaches—feel special before the matches got underway. I sort of expected my recent experience to throw me off my game, but I took my sets, and we won the match.

I was surprised when Nothin’ was still around by the time I went inside to shower and flabbergasted to find him still waiting when I came out dressed in fresh clothes. I figured he knew what I was thinking when he hung onto the glance I gave him and winked.

“Thought I’d run off and leave you to ride the bus back, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“No way, man. I want some more of what we had, and maybe do a little experimenting. I’d almost given up on getting together with you. You’re so damned unapproachable, but I knew it’d happen sooner or later. You know me…nothing but the best.”

“And that’s me?” I asked.

“He aimed a finger at me. “That’s you, Willie. That’s you.”

 

* * * *

Willie lands the big fish! Or to be more precise, the big fish landed Willie. But that’s all right too. Wonder what all happened on that ride back home? Bet it took longer than the ride to Hobart.

 

Please friend this site. Apparently, that matters in the internet world.

 JMS Books has now published the following Mark Wildyr books in print copy: Cut Hand, River Otter, Echoes of the Flute, Medicine Hair, and Wastelakapi... Beloved. They have published

 Charlie Blackbear The Victor and the Vanquished as ebooks.

 

My contact information is provided below in case anyone wants to drop me a line:

Website and blog: markwildyr.com

Email: markwildyr@aol.com

Facebook: www.facebook.com/mark.wildyr

Twitter: @markwildyr

Now my mantra: Keep on reading. Keep on writing. You have something to say, so say it!

See you later.

 

 

Mark

 

New posts the first and third Thursday of the month at 6:00 a.m., US Mountain time.

Nothing But the Best (Part 2 of 3 Parts)

 Markwildyr.com, Post #204

 

Image Courtesy of inequality.org

 

Only one comment out there since the last post, and readership keeps on plunging. I’d like to think it’s my clumsiness with key words and lack of Google support and an absolute misunderstanding of follow.it, but it could well be my stories are stale. Nonetheless, I’ll go ahead and finish this one.

 

Last time William (AKA Willie) recognizes he’s hankering for his bud Yancy (AKA Nothin’) more than he was a girl. After that blockbuster, he decides he’d better find out for sure. Let’s see what his plan is.

 

* * * * *

NOTHING BUT THE BEST

Armed with my new-found revelation about myself, I figured I needed a plan to see if I’d identified my problem or if I was just whistlin’ Dixie. And what it came down to in my mind was comparisons. So I used that to figure out my plan of action.

The first thing to do was test my reasoning about girls. As I’ve already indicated, I’ve made it with a couple of them, and they’d let me know that I was welcome again… although the fact I hadn’t taken either of them up on it for six months or so might mitigate that ready availability.

Bessy Sue was my selection because she liked to titillate the guys and then—except for one or two of them—pull back when the crucial time came. She’d done that to me, backing away and then capitulating. To be honest, that was probably what landed me. Got me curious.

I caught her coming out of English class and fell into step beside her.

“Hi, what’s cooking,” was my brilliant opening gambit.

“Well, hello, handsome. Haven’t seen much of you lately.”

Aha! There was my opening. “Certainly not as much as you saw a couple of months back.”

She turned and x-rayed me from head to foot. “A couple of months? More like six.”

I’m sure I blushed. “Well, things got busy, you know. Tennis season and all.”

She smirked. “You afraid I’ll sap your strength?” Bessy Sue stopped on a dime, making me come back to her. “Maybe that’s what I oughta do and then go bet on the other guy.”

“Any time, kiddo,” I said… getting in deeper than I’d intended. But so far, our talk wasn’t producing any results.

“I’m free tonight,” she said. “But only if you take me to dinner… and I don’t mean at MacDonald’s.”

“How about Hatfield’s,” I said, naming a semi-ritzy joint not far from campus.

“Pick me up at six. You do remember my dorm, don’t you?”

She was being sarcastic, but the truth was, I didn’t remember. Nonetheless, I could find out easy enough. “Like it was yesterday,” I crooned in her ear. Pretty suave, even if I do say so myself.

The steak and lobster dinner at Hatfield’s was delicious, the time afterward with Bessy Sue, simply an endurance match. I went back to my place still trying to catch my breath. Good thing I didn’t have a match tomorrow, or she’d have bet against me for sure.

****

A freshman by the name of Birchfield was the next step in my social experiment. No kidding, his name was Birchfield—Birchfield Hastings—but everyone called him Birch. I’d heard vague rumors about him. Rumors weren’t quite right. Just suspicions. The way he went up at the end of a sentence when it wasn’t called for. Or his gestures. Not a limp wrist, but something close. Anyhow, he played tennis, as well, and was a fair hand at it. After a game one day, he’d tried to get friendly, but I had other things on my mind at the time and kinda brushed it off. Come to think of it, that was right around the time I was getting it on with Bessy Sue. Damn, time flies when you’re not paying attention.

Actually, I ran into Nothin’ before I saw Birch. We saw one another at the library and did some studying together before heading for the Student Union Building for a burger and fries. He was so damned handsome and… and fetching sitting opposite me talking and eating that I about trashed my program and broached the subject right then. I knew for fact he’d gotten a dozen girls on campus, but he looked so fucking innocent it about tore my heart out thinking things like I was thinking about him,

 But I’m nothing if not deliberate and disciplined, so I curtailed my urge to make a move. Nonetheless, I sure had fun sitting there reminiscing about our time as next-door neighbors, me getting hard as a rock. It was okay because the table was sheltering me at the time.

****

Two days later, Birch was batting the ball against a practice wall when I arrived at the courts. He accepted my challenge, and we squared off for a game of singles. His game had improved since the last time we’d played, and I had a little trouble putting him away, but I managed.

He handled my complements on his play in his usual “aw, shucks” manner. To keep something going, I gave him a few pointers on what I perceived to be weaknesses. We even went back to the practice wall with me standing behind him and correcting his backhand swing. Occasionally my groin brushed his butt. Was that too subtle? Nope. I saw from the glances he darted at me he’d noticed. Thereafter, he’d sorta thrust his butt out so the contact was a little firmer.

When a couple of others showed up to practice, I looked him squarely in his blue eyes and asked a one-word question.

“Where?”

He didn’t even blink. “My room. My roommate’s gone for the weekend.”

It was that easy. I barely got the door closed behind us before he turned and walked into me. I hadn’t known that guys kissed, but I guess they do. At any rate, we did. And that wasn’t all we did. I can’t say the world moved, but the bed… and I think his room… certainly did. That bed squeaked and squalled and beat up against the wall, lending buoyancy to our gymnastics.

When I staggered back to my dorm later, I had no trouble giving this experience a better mark than my bout with Bessy Sue. Way better! The problem was going to be to convince Birch it was a one-time thing. Well, provided it turned out that way, that is.

I was prepared to measure things now, but landing Nothin’ wasn’t going to be as easy as simply crooking my finger. My two yardsticks thus far and been willing… no, eager participants. Yancy Charles Yates might have to be convinced. And I had no idea how to do that.

* * * *

So far Willie’s (maybe I should say William's since he hates that nickname) accomplished part one and part two of his plan, but the harder one is yet to come. How will Nothin’ react to an approach? Can Willie figure out an approach? If so, will he have the nerve to go through with it? We’ll see next time.

 

Please friend this site. Apparently, that matters in the internet world.

 

As indicated on the last post, Charlie Blackbear has been published as an ebook by JMS Books.

 

My contact information is provided below in case anyone wants to drop me a line:

Website and blog: markwildyr.com

Email: markwildyr@aol.com

Facebook: www.facebook.com/mark.wildyr

Twitter: @markwildyr

Now my mantra: Keep on reading. Keep on writing. You have something to say, so say it!

See you later.

 

 

Mark

 

New posts the first and third Thursday of the month at 6:00 a.m., US Mountain time.

Nothing But the Best (Part 1 of 3 Parts)

Markwildyr.com, Post #203

 

Image Courtesy of inequality.org

 

Hope you enjoyed Joseph and Jose’s little story. Got a few comments, but readership’s still falling off. I’ve gotta figure out that followit situation.

 

Here’s our next little story. Hope you enjoy it.

 

* * * * *

NOTHING BUT THE BEST

 

How did Yancy Charles Yates earn the sobriquet of “Nothin’?” That takes some ’splaining, as my next-door neighbor used to say. Yancy wasn’t born with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth, but somewhere in our early years he acquired one. Except that it was gold… or possibly platinum. But that wasn’t enough. He was a cute kid, a fetching youngster, and a drop-dead handsome youth. Want some more? He wasn’t spoiled rotten. No, he was faultlessly polite and thoughtful to everybody. More? Awesome jock and genuine brain. He sent sports records and grade levels soaring so high they likely wouldn’t be broken for years.

The guy had nothing but the best. Sooo… everyone started calling him that. He’d show up, and everybody’d yell, “Nothing but the Best’s here.” Well, you know us kids. That soon became “Nothing But,” and deteriorated from there to simply “Nothin’. The campus joke was that whenever Yancy showed up, somebody’d ask, “What’s up, Nothin’?”

He’d always reply, “Nothin’.”

I always thought there was more than one way to interpret that.

Now that’s outta the way, I gotta tell you a little about me. William’s the name, but guess what that morphed into? You got it, “Willie.” Hate it, absolutely hate it, but your contemporaries don’t ask you what you want to be called, they just dub you this or that… or Willie. My family’s well off, but not in the Yates’ league. I made the honor roll but didn’t set records. I do okay on the soccer field and tennis court, but I sure can’t claim hero status the way Nothin’ does on the basketball court or gridiron.

But there’s one thing where he really leaves me in the dust. The girls I can claim to conquer. Oh, I get my share of dates. Never go stag unless it’s by choice. The problem is, I can’t hang onto them. I just don’t get serious about one. For a couple of years, some pretty dishy gals worked on landing the elusive Willie Walls, but after a while they gave up. Now my dates are just casual. They’re not the problem. I am. To tell the truth, if I wasn’t expected to show up with a date, I wouldn’t. For a long time, I couldn’t figure out what the problem was. Then one day, it hit me. I’d rather be with Nothin’ than with any of them. We used to be buddies. Lived on the same block for years until my folks moved into a big house, and his moved into an even bigger one. Strayed a little since then, but I still considered him a bud and assumed he did too.

Even after I arrived at the conclusion I preferred his company, I didn’t figure it out. Not right away. You know, a guy can be smart as a whip about facts and figures but dumber’n crap about himself. And I was so dumb, I couldn’t even use the euphemism, I wasn’t dumber’n crap. I was dumber’n shit.

I didn’t really face up to it until one day one of the in-girls sashayed by and somebody in our group dropped his voice and said, “Man, wouldn’t you like to see her in flagrante?”

“That means in the act, dumbass,” I said. “I think you mean au naturel. Without clothes.”

“Yeah, that's what I mean. Nothing at all!”

I clearly remember my reaction… unstated, thank God. Naw, I’d rather see Nothin’. I was struck dumb, and I think the guys figured I’d had a stroke or something. In a way, I had. I was stroked right in the head by a bolt of lightning. Where did that come from? I’d seen Nothin’ in the all-together lots of times. But that was in the gym lockers or pool dressing rooms with other guys flipping towels and making jokes. It was all so impersonal. But that’s not what I was talking about inside my head. I was talking to me about intimacy. Intimacy with Yancy Charles Yates, aka Nothin’. Lord have mercy! In that moment, it all fell into place. I was hankering for Nothin’!

Now that I had discovered my problem, what was I going to do about it? Probably nothing—nothing with a small N.

But was that practical? It explained so much about me to me. Like why when some of us guy sat around talking smut, I’d get so worked up I sometimes had to hide my condition. Why I wasn’t getting anywhere with girls. While I wasn’t a virgin, I wasn’t a cocksman. I mean, it was all right when I got it off, but the earth sure as hell didn’t move like some guys talk about. Take it or leave it. How many guys feel that way?

That was when the second bolt of lightning hit. If I wasn’t interested in girls and was interested in Nothin’, did that mean I might be interested in other guys? Was I… well, you know? Oh crap!

 

* * * *

Did the revelation arrive like this for any of you? I’d be interested in hearing what you have to say about it.

 

Please friend this site. Apparently, that matters in the internet world.

As indicated on the last post, Charlie Blackbear has been published as an ebook by JMS Books. Likewise, print books for Wastelakapi and Cut Hand are now available.

 

My contact information is provided below in case anyone wants to drop me a line:

Website and blog: markwildyr.com

Email: markwildyr@aol.com

Facebook: www.facebook.com/mark.wildyr

Twitter: @markwildyr

Now my mantra: Keep on reading. Keep on writing. You have something to say, so say it!

See you later.

 

 

Mark

 

New posts the first and third Thursday of the month at 6:00 a.m., US Mountain time.

Nothing But the Best (Part 1 of 2 Parts)

Markwildyr.com, Post #203

 

Image Courtesy of inequality.org

 

Hope you enjoyed Joseph and Jose’s little story. Got a few comments, but readership’s still falling off. I’ve gotta figure out that followit situation.

 

Here’s our next little story. Hope you enjoy it.

 

* * * * *

NOTHING BUT THE BEST

 

How did Yancy Charles Yates earn the sobriquet of “Nothin’?” That takes some ’splaining, as my next-door neighbor used to say. Yancy wasn’t born with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth, but somewhere in our early years he acquired one. Except that it was gold… or possibly platinum. But that wasn’t enough. He was a cute kid, a fetching youngster, and a drop-dead handsome youth. Want some more? He wasn’t spoiled rotten. No, he was faultlessly polite and thoughtful to everybody. More? Awesome jock and genuine brain. He sent sports records and grade levels soaring so high they likely wouldn’t be broken for years.

The guy had nothing but the best. Sooo… everyone started calling him that. He’d show up, and everybody’d yell, “Nothing but the Best’s here.” Well, you know us kids. That soon became “Nothing But,” and deteriorated from there to simply “Nothin’. The campus joke was that whenever Yancy showed up, somebody’d ask, “What’s up, Nothin’?”

He’d always reply, “Nothin’.”

I always thought there was more than one way to interpret that.

Now that’s outta the way, I gotta tell you a little about me. William’s the name, but guess what that morphed into? You got it, “Willie.” Hate it, absolutely hate it, but your contemporaries don’t ask you what you want to be called, they just dub you this or that… or Willie. My family’s well off, but not in the Yates’ league. I made the honor roll but didn’t set records. I do okay on the soccer field and tennis court, but I sure can’t claim hero status the way Nothin’ does on the basketball court or gridiron.

But there’s one thing where he really leaves me in the dust. The girls I can claim to conquer. Oh, I get my share of dates. Never go stag unless it’s by choice. The problem is, I can’t hang onto them. I just don’t get serious about one. For a couple of years, some pretty dishy gals worked on landing the elusive Willie Walls, but after a while they gave up. Now my dates are just casual. They’re not the problem. I am. To tell the truth, if I wasn’t expected to show up with a date, I wouldn’t. For a long time, I couldn’t figure out what the problem was. Then one day, it hit me. I’d rather be with Nothin’ than with any of them. We used to be buddies. Lived on the same block for years until my folks moved into a big house, and his moved into an even bigger one. Strayed a little since then, but I still considered him a bud and assumed he did too.

Even after I arrived at the conclusion I preferred his company, I didn’t figure it out. Not right away. You know, a guy can be smart as a whip about facts and figures but dumber’n crap about himself. And I was so dumb, I couldn’t even use the euphemism, I wasn’t dumber’n crap. I was dumber’n shit.

I didn’t really face up to it until one day one of the in-girls sashayed by and somebody in our group dropped his voice and said, “Man, wouldn’t you like to see her in flagrante?”

“That means in the act, dumbass,” I said. “I think you mean au naturel. Without clothes.”

“Yeah, that's what I mean. Nothing at all!”

I clearly remember my reaction… unstated, thank God. Naw, I’d rather see Nothin’. I was struck dumb, and I think the guys figured I’d had a stroke or something. In a way, I had. I was stroked right in the head by a bolt of lightning. Where did that come from? I’d seen Nothin’ in the all-together lots of times. But that was in the gym lockers or pool dressing rooms with other guys flipping towels and making jokes. It was all so impersonal. But that’s not what I was talking about inside my head. I was talking to me about intimacy. Intimacy with Yancy Charles Yates, aka Nothin’. Lord have mercy! In that moment, it all fell into place. I was hankering for Nothin’!

Now that I had discovered my problem, what was I going to do about it? Probably nothing—nothing with a small N.

But was that practical? It explained so much about me to me. Like why when some of us guy sat around talking smut, I’d get so worked up I sometimes had to hide my condition. Why I wasn’t getting anywhere with girls. While I wasn’t a virgin, I wasn’t a cocksman. I mean, it was all right when I got it off, but the earth sure as hell didn’t move like some guys talk about. Take it or leave it. How many guys feel that way?

That was when the second bolt of lightning hit. If I wasn’t interested in girls and was interested in Nothin’, did that mean I might be interested in other guys? Was I… well, you know? Oh crap!

 

* * * *

Did the revelation arrive like this for any of you? I’d be interested in hearing what you have to say about it.

 

Please friend this site. Apparently, that matters in the internet world.

As indicated on the last post, Charlie Blackbear has been published as an ebook by JMS Books. Likewise, print books for Wastelakapi and Cut Hand are now available.

 

My contact information is provided below in case anyone wants to drop me a line:

Website and blog: markwildyr.com

Email: markwildyr@aol.com

Facebook: www.facebook.com/mark.wildyr

Twitter: @markwildyr

Now my mantra: Keep on reading. Keep on writing. You have something to say, so say it!

See you later.

 

 

Mark

 

New posts the first and third Thursday of the month at 6:00 a.m., US Mountain time.

Joseph and Jose (Part 2 of 2 parts)

 Markwildyr.com, Post #202

Image Courtesy of Twitter

 

According to the last post, it appears the new kid in town has come to the aid of Joseph. I hope it was in time, Joe seemed on the point of freezing when he finally found the rude shack and was taken in by the newcomer. Let’s see what happens.

 

* * * * *

JOSEPH AND JOSE

                                                             

I came back from wherever I was enough to realize my teeth weren’t chattering, although I was still cold. Except for my back. My back was warm and cozy. That’s when I figured out the Mexican kid was snuggled up against me to lend his body warmth to me.

“T-thanks,” I stuttered. “You saved my bacon.”

“What you doing out here falling in the creek?”

“Hunting. What’re you doing out here in your underwear?”

That set him to laughing so hard I realized we were flesh to flesh, although he probably had on his skivvies. Even so, he sorta poked me in the but with each guffaw.

“I built this place so I could come out and meditate. I keep it real warm so I can strip down. Helps me get into the mood.” He laughed again, poking me a little more. “But my back gets cold, so I just turn around and put my back to the fire sometimes. What’s your name?

“Joseph. Joseph Hardin.”

“Me too. Jose. That’s Joseph in Spanish. Jose Martinez.”

“They call me Joe,” I added.

“Me too. Jose. It’s the same. But maybe I oughta shorten it like you do. You can call me Ho.”

We both laughed at that, and the poking got a little harder.

I tried to make a joke of it “You realize we’re two necked dudes laying back to front, don’t you?”

“I got a little more modesty than you. I got my shorts on.”

“Well, you’re the one that took mine off. What do you say to that?”

“That I oughta get up and go turn your clothes to dry the other side.”

I got chilled again when he got up. I watched as he carefully laid a log on the dwindling fire before going to tend to my clothes. I’d been right. The guy was slender, but he had muscles.

He turned and caught me eyeballing him. “What?” he said.

Trying to be cool, I said the first thing I thought of. “You’ve seen mine. Gonna show me yours?”

I hadn’t expected him to take me seriously, but he rolled his jockeys down and stepped out of them. ”Good to see you gringos built just like la gente.”

I took that to mean we were built alike. Then the next dumb thing came out of me. “Some bigger’n others.”

He spread his legs suggestively. “You wanna measure, come on.”

So I wandered straight into deep water. “No good measuring them this way.”

“When you right, you right,” Jose said as he grasped himself.

In for a nickel; in for a dime. I stood in front of him. Had him by half a head, so this is one I oughta win… easy. I grabbed myself and pumped away. Strangely, I wasn’t a bit cold now.

There was just the sound of two guys whacking for a minute before he spoke again. “I don’t get my biggest when I’m doing myself.”

“Your problem.”

“Hey, you wanna be fair, don’t you?” He held out his hands and thrust his hips forward again.

I took the bait and grabbed him. He was already decent-sized. Then I felt his hand on me and did a little more growing, myself.

We were both panting when he spoke again. “You wanna know how I really get it big?”

I didn’t answer, but he showed me anyway. After another half hour, we were both sprawled on the blankets gasping for breath.

“N-never did measure,” I managed to say.

“Have… have to do it next time,” Jose answered.

 

* * * *

Well, well, well. Who would have imagined. Anything close to this (minus the life-threatening aspect) ever happen to you? Tell me about it.

 

Please friend this site. Apparently, that matters in the internet world.

 

As indicated on the last post, Charlie Blackbear has been published as an ebook by JMS Books.

 

My contact information is provided below in case anyone wants to drop me a line:

Website and blog: markwildyr.com

Email: markwildyr@aol.com

Facebook: www.facebook.com/mark.wildyr

Twitter: @markwildyr

Now my mantra: Keep on reading. Keep on writing. You have something to say, so say it!

See you later.

 

 

Mark

 

New posts the first and third Thursday of the month at 6:00 a.m., US Mountain time.