This story is a follow up to On Track, which was posted by Nifty (many thanks, by the way) as installment VI of the If Only series, included in their Gay - College section. The last prior installment was posted on September 4, 2007. (I have been busy in the office...sorry.) So if this is put in a new section, you know where to look for the prequel. You might actually enjoy this story more by having an acquaintance with the major characters. Or not. Your call.
Also, if you enjoy this, you will find some of my early biographical stuff in the Beginnings series in the Gay - Young Friends section, last posted July 19, 2007.
As always, sex with minors is inappropriate and illegal. No matter how fucking hot.
I had not intended to spend much of Phillip's party doing him. Or his sister for that matter. In fact, I had not really planned on doing much of anything other than showing up, sitting by the pool and drinking iced tea, and possibly falling asleep with a belly full of pasta salad.
Oh, well. Done is done. And if certain people ever learned that I had given Phillip a blow job, and then screwed his sister ten minutes later, done would be a perfect description for me.
A morbid curiosity led me to research Phillip's family. Looking up the only Mazzarino at his address, I saw Paul Mazzarino. Vice-president of a construction firm. Not good, but not bad. But as I continued my digging, I got the bad news. Paul's uncle was a gentleman named Vincent Mazzarino. It was a name I knew from more than a few court proceedings. Usually indictments that never quite made it to trial because of a shortage of witnesses.
Oops. Although it was the rainy season in Belize, at least I might be alive to complain.
I was sitting in my office, as I had most of the day, trying to figure out my options. About 11:00 my receptionist buzzed me.
"A Mr. Messina here to see you."
My friend Tony.
"Send him in, and see if he wants some coffee."
"He already has his coffee, and is on his way back."
Tony knew the way. He was to all extents and purposes a lifelong friend. His wife Liz and daughter Tracy were like family to me. And he was a large and prompt paying client.
The door to my office swung open and Tony stepped in and dropped into his favorite chair without breaking stride. I greeted very few of my clients from behind my desk, and Tony certainly was not one. I settled into one of the other overstuffed chairs I had in the office to see what Tony had on his mind.
"You still taking on new clients?"
"In general, it depends. A friend of yours, no problem."
"This might be somewhere in the middle. I can't say he's a friend, but as your friend I think it's someone you might want to consider."
"Would I know him?"
"You'd know of him, since you read the same papers I do."
"Some famous son of New Jersey I take it. I didn't know you knew Springsteen or Bon Jovi."
"Not the entertainment section. Try A-3, or A-1 above the fold."
"Politician?"
"Businessman."
"Trump?"
"You're getting colder."
"Give me one more hint and then we can go grab lunch."
"His grand-nephew was on your track team."
"Hurdles, I suppose."
"You know of whom I speak."
"As you said, I know of him. Do I want to know what happened to the former counsel of record?"
"Still above ground with all vital signs normal, as far as I know."
"And how did I come to the attention of Mr. Mazzarino?"
"You are a very popular person with the Mazzarino family at this time. Your name came up in connection with a somewhat specialized task."
"That task being?"
"Mr. Mazzarino would like to discuss that with you in person. It is his understanding that if he has you retained as an attorney the discussion can be somewhat wide-ranging."
"Attorney-client privilege is fairly broad, but not necessarily all-encompassing. But I can handle that."
"So you're on board."
"Sure. Let's get some lunch now."
"Good idea. I'll drive."
The thoughts that had been racing through my head earlier were now all but replaced by a new and more portentious set. If Tony was visiting me on behalf of Vincent Mazzarino, his business interests were, let's say, broader than even I had been aware of.
Or, Tony was being leaned on to set me up. Word of my encounters with the younger Mazzarinos had gotten to the wrong people and once we got into the car Tony was not exactly going to head to the nearest Wendy's.
"We gonna unwrap the entrees?"
"You always said the cheese on the wrapper was the best part, but we're gonna do a sit-down today."
As Tony drove, I could tell we were going off the beaten path for the Applebee's and Chili's of the world. However, since the docks and auto salvage yards were in the other direction, I was less apprehensive than I might otherwise have been.
We ended up in a mixed commercial area that had seen its better days a decade or so earlier. Tony parked the car in front of what appeared from the awning to be a bar or café. As I got out, two rather formidable gentlemen stepped out from under the awning and starting moving toward me.
Tony waved them off.
"It's o.k. We're expected."
I looked at Tony.
"Valet parking?"
"Nah. Can't find jackets that fit through the shoulders. But I think the car is safe where it is."
"I wasn't worried about the car."
"We're not going to have to stop at the dry cleaners on the way back to your office are we?"
"At this point, no."
"Hey, you're fine. Just remember, no sudden moves around Mr. Mazzarino like his last attorney."
"You told me..."
"You are so easy. Just relax."
We went inside the café. The lighting, to use the term loosely, was on the subdued side. Had Tony not known where we were going, I would have walked into every piece of furniture in the place.
We made our way to the back of the restaurant, where a gray-haired gentlemen sat by himself behind a plate of spaghetti and the Daily News.
Tony introduced us.
"Mr. Mazzarino, my friend Pete Vogel. Pete, Vincent Mazzarino."
"Sir."
"Please, Pete, Vincent."
"Yes, sir, ah, Vincent."
"Sit please."
Tony and I sat down and two plates appeared in front of us along with a small bottle of red wine for Tony and a carafe of water for me.
"Tony says you like Italian food."
"He made dinner every Sunday night when we were in college. It was a good feed for the money."
"I'm hurt," said Tony. "Are you suggesting that the appeal of my cuisine was based on economics.?"
"Not at all. Once I built up an immunity I found it quite tasty. And it certainly beat what we got at Camp Lejeune."
"You were in the service together." It was a statement, not a question.
"Semper Fi."
"What did you do?"
I wanted to give Tony a look out of the corner of my eye, but I had no doubt it would not be lost on Mr. Mazzarino.
I took a deep breath. Oh well...
"I was a member of a scout sniper team."
"Do I know the other member?"
"I expect so."
Tony spoke up. "We never deployed, and during those times we never deployed, we never reached out and touched someone."
"Especially not in the Middle East or Central America."
"That's good," said Vincent. "Violent people make me nervous."
"You won't have a problem with us, Mr. Mazzarino. Tony thinks `one shot, one kill' is some sort of drinking game."
I had long since reached the point of wondering what I had been summoned for, but I also knew that when Vincent Mazzarino was ready to tell me he would.
That time came shortly.
"I wasn't able to make Phillip's party last spring. I would like to thank you for all the work you did with him. He was so proud when he showed me his medal."
"Having an athlete like Phillip is the best reward you get as a coach. They don't come along every day."
"There is a problem with Phillip right now, though."
"I'm sorry to hear that Mr. Maz...Vincent."
"Nothing like a problem problem. More of a family issue."
I was thinking that under ordinary circumstances this might be a good time to bug out. Cops will tell you that that family disputes get more officers killed than drug raids.
I figured that since at this point I was still alive, I could play along. "Is there some way I can help?"
"Possibly. Tony, can you explain to Pete the circumstances here?"
Tony leaned forward.
"It's your own fault," he began.
"Tony!"
"Just teasing, Mr. Mazzarino. Pete here turned Phillip into a state caliber track athlete, and now he wants to try basketball."
"That's great," I said. "He has a lot of physical talent."
"Unfortunately," replied Tony, "he is somewhat lacking in what you might refer to as basic basketball skills. Dribbling, passing, shooting, the like."
"Those can be taught."
"Correct. And given your success in teaching Phillip to hurdle, I suggested to Paul that there would be no telling what you could do in a sport you actually knew something about."
"I can't guarantee results, but I'd be willing to spend the time."
"Which gets us to the problem," Vincent interjected.
I looked at Tony.
"Paul is afraid that Phillip has already taken too much of your time. He doesn't want to impose further."
Vincent jumped back in the conversation.
"What Tony means to say is that my nephew does not like feeling obligated to people. He doesn't want to ask for your help, and has made it clear to Phillip that he is not to ask either."
"But, if I were to figure out a way to introduce the subject in a way that Paul could not object to..."
"If you could figure out how to do that, Mr. Vogel, then I would be in your debt."
Holy fucking shit. Forty-five minutes earlier I had figured I could be bound for the Pine Barrens.
"I will do my utmost, Mr. Mazzarino."
"No one could ask for more then. Good luck."
Tony and I sat speechless for much of the ride back to my office.
"Tony, we definitely need to figure out how to pull this off."
"Pete, it's not like we're gonna get whacked if we don't."
"I'm relieved, but damn..."
"I know. But we gotta get through to Paul somehow. I'm sure Phillip would jump at the chance."
"We need to think of a way to set this up so that Paul thinks he is doing me a favor."
We rode in silence the rest of the way back to my office.
Tony spoke up.
"My house this weekend."
"Say what?"
"I'll see if Phillip and his family can come over for a cookout. We have a basketball court."
"Yeah, but you said it was defective. Something about the rim getting in the way of your shot."
"You want I should tell Vincent you didn't like the spaghetti?"
"Not necessary. Just let me know. We can work out the details."
Tony called me the next morning.
"Saturday afternoon. We're going to get together with Paul and his family and one or two other couples just to divert suspicion. Bring your tennis shoes."
"They don't call them that any more. But I'll see you there."
It managed to rain all day Thursday and Friday and I half-expected our scheming to be nipped in the bud, but Saturday was glorious.
I had planned on arriving unfashionably early, but still was one of the late comers.
"I said late lunch, not early breakfast," Tony observed.
"Sorry, there was an ambulance, I couldn't resist."
"I hope your name was spelled right on your business card."
"This batch it was. I had to tell them two `t's' in attorney, though."
"Well, counselor, dinner is served."
I recognized a few people besides Tony. Neither Phillip nor his sister Kelly were anywhere in sight. I hadn't seen either of them since our trysts in Phillip's bedroom, and was wondering how I, and they, would react.
In their absence, I started with their dad.
"I hope you're here to help Tony with the grill."
"As I recall you just had the pasta salad at my house."
"True. It's just that it takes Tony so long to grow his eyebrows back when he sets the gas too high."
"The secret of assembling a grill is to make sure you put the knobs on right."
"He never did like reading instructions."
"Who never liked reading instructions?"
"Hi, Tony."
"We certainly weren't talking about you, Tony," Paul offered.
"Nope," I added. "We were just wondering in the most general possible terms where the nearest fire station was."
"Not necessary. I plan on keeping these eyebrows for awhile."
"Liz will be pleased...speaking of whom I should go pay my respects to the hostess."
"Hmmm..."
"What?"
"I'm not sure now is a good time, but maybe it couldn't hurt."
"'S wrong?"
"Her and Tracy are having a spat. Apparel-related."
"Afraid I'm not much of a fashionista, Tony."
"Maybe lack of apparel-related is more like it. She saw Tracy's swim suit and sent her upstairs to put on a t-shirt. Tracy is still pouting in her room."
"See what you have to look forward to Paul. The joys of being the parent of a teen."
"Tell me about it. Kelly acts like she's 11 going on 31 sometimes. Too bad all the good convents are full."
"Tony if you think I should just lay low that's fine."
"Nah, go ahead. If Liz wants you out of the way she'll give you the message."
"Fools rush in..."
I had spent enough time visiting the Messina household that I did not require directions to the kitchen.
"Knock, knock. Fabio here, I seem to have mislaid my pectorals."
"Hi, Pete."
"What gave me away?"
"Fabio never knocks."
"Good point. I hear there's trouble in River City."
"Tony briefed you."
"Sort of. Something about a t-shirt."
"Tracy was wearing something that was inappropriate considering we have guests over. I sent her upstairs to either put on a t-shirt or a different swim suit. They probably heard the door slam in Albany."
"Hasn't come out, I take it."
"Nope. Kelly is up there trying to talk some sense into her."
"Kelly?"
"I know, not the likeliest of choices. She might listen to you."
"Liz, if she is indecently dressed, I'm not sure I should be chatting her up in her bedroom."
"Pete, you've changed her diapers."
"Not for awhile."
"Pete, please try. I don't want her spending the afternoon up there."
"Aye-aye, skipper."
"Oh, Pete..."
"Oh, Liz..."
"She doesn't know who Fabio is."
"That's o.k. I was going to try Justin Timberlake."
"I believe it's Zac Efron now."
"Who?"
"Just see what you can do, please."
I headed up the stairs and knocked on the door.
"Who is it?"
"I don't know, but it's not Justin Timberlake or Zac Efron. Does the name Fabio ring any bells?"
"Uncle Pete!"
I closed my eyes as Tracy opened the door.
"Uncle Pete, what are you doing?"
"I was told you were somewhat indecent. Do you have your t shirt on?"
"There is nothing wrong with this top."
"Your mom thinks otherwise."
"What do you think?"
"I think I want to keep my eyes closed in case your mother is right."
"O.k., I'll make a deal with you. If you think I shouldn't wear it, I'll put something else on."
"Deal."
I opened my eyes and managed – barely – to maintain my composure.
As Liz recalled correctly, I had known Tracy since Day 1, and done my share of quasi-parenting from time to time. But this was definitely not the same person.
Tracy was wearing a top that managed to have some boob hanging out virtually everywhere. Besides the cleavage in front, there was so little material that she was hanging out the sides as well.
"Say something, Uncle Pete."
"Shit, Tracy."
"Does that mean you like it?"
"Tracy, it means you really need to put some clothes on."
"You don't like it?"
"Tracy, if it were anyone else but you I would say it is as hot as hot gets. But I..."
"You don't think I'm hot?"
"Tracy, you're like family, I can't think you're hot."
Kelly had been sitting quietly, enjoying my discomfort.
"Pete, do you mean if I wore it it would be hot?"
"Shit and double shit. I am outnumbered and outflanked."
"Tracy, I think your Uncle Pete is somewhat conflicted."
"What do you think we should do about that, Kelly?"
I bolted from the room before I could find out. I stopped by the kitchen to grab a glass of iced tea, it being too early for a double Manhattan. That and I didn't drink."
"How did it go, Pete?"
I was trying to formulate an answer, when...
"Hi, Mom."
Tracy had come down the stairs shortly after me, and was wearing a pair of gym shorts over a one-piece racing suit. There was almost no back, but the front went up to and over her collarbones.
"I see Pete talked some sense into you."
"The sense was already there, Liz, or the talk would not have mattered."
"The golden-tongued attorney," Liz smiled. "Now get your ass out of my kitchen."
Kelly had come down the stairs with Tracy.
"Golden tongued, that sounds interesting," she smiled.
"What makes me think your interest has nothing to do with oratory?"
"Probably because I don't know what oratory is. But I do know that last time I made you cum, and next time is your turn...Mr. Golden Tongue."
Kelly left to join Tracy. I wondered if I was going to survive long enough to see a basketball, let alone try to put one over on Phillip's dad. Which reminded me, I had yet to see Phillip.
Sometimes in life you just have to let things come to you. I figured if I sat down, nursed my iced tea, and tried to divert my thoughts from Kelly and – God! – Tracy, I could pull myself together.
It is, as they say, great when a plan comes together. I had no sooner pulled up a chair at one of the awning-covered patio tables then Phillip came running over.
"Coach Pete."
"Runner Phillip, how you?"
"Very glad to see you."
"Am I supposed to be able to look somewhere and tell for sure?"
"Hah! If I start thinking about that I'll have to explain to my dad why I had to jump in the pool before I ate."
"Let's think about something else then. There will be time enough for the pool later."
"Cool, you gonna do me in the pool?"
"When did you start being difficult, Phillip? Are you channeling Kelly?"
"You want to do her in the pool, too?"
"Phillip!"
"Sorry, Coach, you're just fun to tease."
"All is forgiven. I hear you're gonna be a basketball star now, too."
"I can't talk about that."
"You can talk about us getting it on but you can't talk about hoops? I thought I was the conflicted one."
"I'd really like to play, but I'm really not very good."
"Well then practice. It worked in track, it will work in basketball."
"I don't know what to practice, or how to practice. I go out to try to shoot and dribble and stuff and never get any better."
"Well, that is certainly correct."
"What do you mean?"
"Practicing without direction merely reinforces all your bad habits and poor techniques, no offense. The more you practice that way the harder it is to get better because you train yourself to do things wrong."
"I'd like you to help me, Tony says you're really good, but..."
"Ending a sentence with a conjunction leads to a lack of clarity of expression, Mr. Mazzarino."
"Please don't tell anybody I told you this, but my dad didn't want me to ask you."
"I pissed your dad off somehow?"
"No. In his world that would leave him in your debt even further. He said enough is enough."
"He said that like in a mad way or something?"
"No, I don't think so. He sounded sort of sad actually. He's not the sort of person who likes to owe other people."
"So I hear. But you're allowed to play, right?"
"Yeah."
"You got shoes?"
"Probably in the trunk."
"By an incredible coincidence I believe I brought a pair myself. You think your dad would get mad if we had a game of horse before lunch?"
"Let's find out."
I met Phillip on the court...or rather in the driveway...a few minutes later. I had located a couple of balls in the garage and tossed one of them to Phillip.
"Let me know when you're warmed up. Then you can kiss your lunch money goodbye."
I started with layups from the right, then the left. After about 5 of each I moved out and started with jumpers from 6 to 8 feet on either side. Then I moved out a few feet farther and took some shots off the glass. Phillip, meanwhile, seemed to be attempting to knock the backboard off the garage from about 20 feet away.
"Ready when you are, Phillip."
"Let's go. Who shoots first?"
"The court is yours."
Phillip took his ball and moved about 17 feet away from the basket. He hit the front of the rim with his shot. The ball skipped off the rim, off the backboard and was en route to the grill before Phillip ran it down.
"My shot now. Free throw."
I set up what I estimated 15 feet to be – for some reason Tony did not have an official court painted on his driveway – and squaring my shoulders, placing my right foot slightly in front of my left, right hand behind the ball, index finger centered, thumb and little finger of my left hand along the mid-line of the ball and rotated 90 degrees from my right hand, right elbow dropped to the right knee and then lift and release with the right arm extended and the wrist flexed drained the free throw in considerably less time than it takes to describe it.
"Your turn, Phillip."
I watched Phillip's right elbow come out, left hand move behind the ball, and right foot behind his left foot. I did not need to see the result.
"That's H. Now we go baseline."
A 12 footer from the baseline produced O.
A banked in 10 footer from the right side was R.
A high school range three pointer was S.
We never got to E because after Phillip's attempt at a 3 pointer hit the garage door he ran off the court and into the house.
I took a quick look at Paul and saw one very unhappy parental unit. I just managed to catch Tony's eye and gave a nod of my head towards Paul. Tony caught on and moved to intercept him as I ran over.
"Paul. I don't want to interfere with family stuff, but maybe I kind of set him off. Can you give me 5 minutes?"
"Hell yes, Paul," Tony added. "It's not like you don't know where he lives. You can always kill him later."
"Please, Paul. As a favor?"
"He has to answer, Pete."
"I'm not saying he doesn't, Paul. I'm just asking for a deferral."
"Five minutes then."
I didn't bother to say thanks. I ran into the house and caught Liz's eye.
"Upstairs again," she directed.
I ran by Tracy's room where she and Kelly were doing something hair-related.
"Phillip up here?"
"I think he went in the bathroom. Maybe the spare bedroom. I couldn't tell which door slammed."
"Thanks."
The door to the bathroom was open. One door at the end of the hall was shut. I tried a knock.
"Phillip, you in there by any chance?"
"Yeah."
"May I come in?"
"I didn't lock it."
Taking the liberty to interpret that as an affirmative response, I opened the door. Phillip was sitting on the edge of the bed, still obviously frustrated from our game.
"Phillip, I'm sorry."
"Why are you sorry? That's almost dumb."
"I was trying to, I don't know, kind of demonstrate stuff. You said how your dad was and all and I wanted to help you without directly doing it. I maybe could have said something, or tried something else, different."
Phillip laughed. An encouraging sign.
"That sounds more fucked up than my shooting."
I almost said `that would have to be pretty well fucked up then' but didn't want to undo what progress I may have made.
"My life is a history of fucked up personal relationships, Phillip. Welcome to the club."
Phillip laughed again.
"Phillip, we need to go back downstairs. I strongly recommend that you very contritely apologize to your host and your dad as soon as you can."
"But I..."
"Phillip, trust me on this. Please."
"O.K. But it will cost you."
"Phillip, your dad gave me 5 minutes. I don't have time to..."
"No. Not that. Not now, anyway," Phillip grinned. "Just a kiss."
Ordinarily just a kiss is never that, but with Phillip's dad probably watching the second hand, this would have to be just that.
We stepped toward each other, and I place my hand behind Phillip's head. I moved him toward me, and as our lips met I could feel his separate, as did mine. He was the aggressor, his tongue entered my mouth and I began to suck on it. It was clearly a new experience for him.
He took my left hand and placed it on his crotch, and then started to squeeze me.
"Phillip. Later. Please."
"O.K. Tease."
"Get downstairs, Phillip. Pronto."
Phillip and I headed downstairs. I was about 107% sure that Kelly's eyes were following us as we went down the hall. I wondered what her silence was going to cost me this time. Based on her tongue-related comment earlier in the afternoon, I could guess.
Phillip went up to Tony first.
"Mr. Messina, I'm sorry I acted like that. I showed disrespect to you as my host."
Tony looked for a second like he was working up to a smart-assed reply, but then seemed to think better of it.
"Apology accepted, Phillip. We can't always control our emotions. What we can control is how we act afterward. I respect someone who steps up and acts like a man under those circumstances."
That was far more grandiloquent than Tony ever was, but he had put Paul somewhat in a corner.
"Father, I'm sorry. I embarrassed the family."
Paul was clearly groping for a response. I jumped in.
"My fault, too, Paul."
"How the hell it that, Pete?"
"I tried to be too clever. I wanted to help Phillip with his shot but thought I would just try to do it by example. I should have spent the time just teaching him, as opposed to showing him up."
Paul was quiet again. "Phillip, go see if anyone needs any help in the kitchen."
Phillip was clever enough to know that this meant get the hell out of here while the men have a discussion, and nearly disappeared into thin air.
We all waited for Paul to speak.
"Pete, Tony, you know I love my kid. You both know how proud I am of what he did this spring."
Tony and I waited.
"But I can't ask Pete to spend more time with him. He has a life, too."
It was a measure of the seriousness of the moment that Tony didn't jump in with `no he doesn't, Paul.'
"Paul," I said, "I'm the one that's asking. Phillip has a world of physical tools but limited basketball skills. There's nothing a coach finds more frustrating than wasted potential. I would be in your debt if you would allow me to spend just a little time with him."
"Just a little time is how much?"
Tony jumped in.
"They have tryouts when school starts. That's a couple of months from now. How `bout we give the old pro here a month to see if he can make any progress?"
I looked at Paul.
"And who determines if he has?" Paul challenged.
"You," I answered. "This is a family thing more than a basketball thing. You're the dad, you make the call."
Paul was quiet again. Longer this time.
"We can do it a month and then take another look at it then."
"Thank you, Paul."
"Good decision, Paul," added Tony. "It'll give Pete something to do besides stay home and rearrange his sock drawer. You know, Paul, Pete doesn't know shit about being a dad, but I'm thinking if you told Phillip..."
Paul spoke without the usual pause.
"Fine. I sent him to the kitchen, I think."
"Correct."
Paul headed in to the house.
"I'll tell Vincent tomorrow. He will be pleased."
"There is the matter of a practice venue and equipment."
"St. Joseph's rec center will be at your disposal. And I think a case of basketballs recently fell off the back of a truck."
"Inflated on impact, no doubt."
"Damnedest thing I ever saw."
"Were we maybe jumping the gun a little bit?"
"Vincent asked me the same thing when I told him we needed to make practice arrangements. I've seen you in action for too many years."
At that time Phillip came out of the house. Fortunately he was walking at a controlled pace, so I didn't have to try to flag him down before he did something unseemly. At least in public.
"My dad says it's o.k. to help me with basketball."
"That's what I hear."
"That's great."
"Let's hope so."
"Tony. Come here." Liz was calling from the kitchen.
"Excuse me, gentlemen. I am being summoned."
"Don't use that word around attorneys, Tony, it gives us hives."
Tony laughed and headed into the house.
I looked at Phillip again.
"The time we spend together has got to be basketball first, right?"
"But not basketball exclusively, right?"
"No. There'll be time for us."
"As in time for sex?"
"As in time for as much sex as possible. Consistent with getting your jump shot to drop."
"I guess I better work hard on my jump shot so you can work on my hard on."
"Have I ever told you you're incorrigible?"
"No. Is that a good thing?"
"In the case of sex, yes. I'll let you know when we can practice. In the mean time I'm going to see what the kitchen crisis is."
Phillip and I walked into the kitchen. Tony was getting ready to head out the door with his car keys in his hand.
"Can you take the grill, Pete? I gotta run to the store. We thought we had some frozen pizza for the kids, but Tracy and some of her friends must have gotten into it."
"If I may offer a suggestion, why don't you maintain the grill, and I'll just run out and get some pizza from Alessandro's."
"You don't mind?"
"Nah. My luck I'd ruin about $100 worth of steaks while you were gone. I'm better at carrying cardboard boxes."
"Fine by me."
"Can I go with you, Uncle Pete?"
Tracy had apparently been listening in from the stairs.
"I'm not to say, Tracy, but I think you have company."
"It's o.k. Kelly was going to go into the pool. We won't be that long."
"Ask your mom or dad. I can't give permission."
"It's o.k., Pete," Tony agreed. "Just don't let her fill up on cannoli while you're waiting for the pizza."
"Shotgun," yelled Tracy and practically flew into my car through the window.
"Seatbelt, Tracy."
"Yes, mother."
We pulled out of the cul-de-sac and picked up the main drag toward the strip mall where Alessandro's was located.
"Uncle Pete."
"Niece Tracy."
"Don't you like my boobs?"
"I thought this trip was pizza-related."
"Will you answer my question?"
"Tracy, you are the closest thing I will ever have to a daughter. You are not allowed to have boobs. Or anything else, either."
"You mean like a pussy or an ass?"
"Tracy, I don't mean to go all grownup on you but what is with you today?"
"Kelly told me."
"Kelly told you...?"
"That you guys fucked at her house."
"Oh shit."
"You did? Really? You fucked Kelly?"
"Yes, Tracy, I did."
"So you fucked her but won't even look at my boobs?"
"Tracy it's different."
"You think she's prettier?"
"No. You're way..."
"Say it."
"You are much hotter, Tracy."
"So if I'm hotter, how come you wouldn't fuck me then?"
"Because."
"That's not an answer."
"O.K. Here's your answer, Tracy. You are totally hot. If you were anyone else other than Tracy Messina I wouldn't hesitate to fuck your brains out on the spot. And probably if I were anyone else but me I'd be fucking you regardless. But we are who we are. That's the best answer you're going to get."
"Will you do one thing for me then, Uncle Pete?"
"What, Trace?"
"Will you just look at my boobs?"
Oh, damn.
"If I do, will we be able to go get our pizza?"
"Promise."
"All right."
There was a small community park on the way to Alessandro's. Because it was nearly devoid of amenities, it was usually devoid of visitors. I pulled into the parking lot beside an unused pavilion.
"O.k., Tracy, showtime."
She smiled at me as she reached her arms across her chest and grabbed a shoulder strap in each hand. As she pulled the straps down her breasts emerged.
They were exquisite. Somewhat more than an a cup, with still puffy nipples, they were far more developed than Kelly's. I had to remind myself to breath.
"What do you think?"
"I think I have never seen a better set of boobs, Tracy. But just what were you wearing in your bedroom?"
"Hah. That was a top that Kelly had outgrown. That's why I was sticking out all over the place."
"I wondered. Now will you pull that back up so we can proceed?"
"One more thing?"
"One more thing?"
"Yeah. I want you to touch them."
Oh my God.
"Tracy..."
"Please."
"Just this once."
"That's fine, Pete."
I was apparently being too deliberate for Tracy because before I could act...and subconsciously I was probably holding out hope of getting struck by a meteor before I had to...she reached over and took my hands and placed them on her boobs.
"What do you think, Uncle Pete?"
"I don't know, Tracy. This is not a situation where thinking gets you anyway."
"Are they just right, firm but not hard?"
"You want me to verbalize, I take it. That wasn't in the agreement, Tracy."
"Hah, don't go all lawyer on me, Uncle Pete."
"They are as perfect to the touch as to the sight. How's that?"
"That's the nicest thing I have ever heard."
Without warning, Tracy leaned over and gave me a kiss. Not that peck on the cheek I was used to from her, but full frontal on the lips.
My brain was screaming "Get the fuck out of here!", but no one was listening.
I met Tracy's kiss and began to slowly squeeze her young boobs, cupping them from the bottom and then squeezing until only her nipples were left within my grasp. At that point I took her nips between my thumb and forefinger and gave a slight twist and pull.
Tracy gasped.
"Did that hurt?"
"Oh my God no. Please don't stop."
As if it would have made any sense at that point anyway.
Tracy and I resumed our liplock. Had I been capable of thought at that point, I would have been unable to remember a hotter kiss, from any age or gender.
"Tracy, slide your shorts off."
Tracy didn't say a word. She raised her hips and slid her shorts off. I leaned over and took one of her nipples in my mouth.
I was momentarily worried that Tracy was going to hyperventilate. She was almost shaking.
"You o.k., Trace?"
"Oh...this is the most...most...wonderful..."
"So I should keep going then?"
I didn't give her time to answer, but resumed sucking her boobs while I slipped my index finger inside her swimsuit. She was soaking wet, and it took no time at all to find her clit.
Tracy was ready, in no uncertain terms. I moved my finger from the bottom of her slit all the way to her clit. She arched her hips to meet my touch. I repeated the movement a couple more times, and then figured it was time to give her some relief.
I kept the pressure on her clit with my finger until I could get a sense of her own rhythm, and then met her thrusts with more and more pressure. As she got ready to come, I kissed her again.
Tracy broke off our kiss and buried her head in my shoulder as she came. She kept her head on my should for a few moments as her breathing returned to – near – normal.
"Oh my God, Uncle Pete. I've never felt anything like that."
"You're probably not supposed to, you know."
"I mean when I do myself, it's not even like that."
"At the risk of overanalyzing, you may be one of those people who enjoys something like that more when they're not completely in control of the situation."
"I wish we could do that again."
"We have a deal, Tracy."
"I know. I was just wishing."
"You know what I wish?"
"What, Pete?"
"I wish you would get your clothes back on before Alessandro wonders what we've been doing."
Tracy reluctantly pulled her suit up – and, in point of fact, I was sorry to see her boobs go, too – and slid back into her shorts. I pulled out of the park and back on the trail to Alessandro's. Tracy slid over to the middle of the seat and leaned against my shoulder. I put an arm around her and pulled her closer.
We were getting within a few blocks of the restaurant. I leaned over and kissed the top of her head.
"Time to appear chaste, Tracy. Give it your best shot."
"I love you, Pete."
"You too, Trace."
We drove the rest of the way to Alessandro's in silence. It was not the sort of silence that usually kicks in when familiarity has grown to disinterest, but the kind of silence that comes when a situation is so absolutely perfect that no possible verbalization could improve it.
Perfect now, but God only knew what when I got Tracy back home. I had developed a reasonably effective poker face from being in front of judges, juries, detectives, and other actors in the criminal justice arena. But how do you go back to your best friend after having made out with his underaged daughter on a pizza run? I had no choice, but I also had no clue.
I was still distracted when we walked into Alessandro's. It was mostly a carryout restaurant, with a few booths along the window. Had I been paying attention things might have been different.
As it was, I did not give a thought to the two nervous young men standing by the counter, or the even more nervous owner behind the counter. My mistake.
"Take your wallet out and lay it on the counter."
I looked over my shoulder and one of the men displayed a handgun inside his coat. It was a revolver, a .32 from my quick glance.
"Turn the fuck around and put your wallet down."
"Uncle Pete..."
"Easy, Tracy. These gentlemen want money."
"Maybe. And maybe we'll take some carryout along to party with."
That was their mistake. I knew Alessandro was prepared for these situations, and must have been caught off guard. I also knew that a .32 revolver had its limitations.
"Tracy, DOWN!"
Like most firefights, this one took longer to describe than to occur.
As Tracy dropped to the floor – good girl – I turned to engage the man with the .32. Not quite quick enough. He couldn't get it out to get a shot off, but still caught me on the side of the head with the barrel. As I went down, I managed to execute a leg sweep and took him to the floor with me.
His partner turned his head to see what was going on. Not a good idea. Alessandro kept a shotgun under the cash register. Loaded. Before he could turn back to see what Alessandro was doing, he was on his way across the restaurant propelled by two shotgun blasts.
The roar of the shotgun provided me with the edge I needed. I was able to get my weight on my opponent's arm and pin his weapon to the floor. With his right arm pinned, his left arm was no match for the "one inch punch" to his throat. His expiration was not as spectacular as his partner's, but its equal in effectiveness.
I looked for Tracy.
"You o.k., kid?"
"Pete, you're bleeding."
"I know that, Tracy. Are you alright?"
"Pete, were they talking about..."
"I wasn't going to wait to find out, Trace. Get my cell phone out and call your dad. I'm getting a little dizzy."
Tracy took the phone out of my pocket. Although Tony was obviously on top of my speed dial list, Tracy punched in the number.
"Hand it over, please."
Tony came on the line.
"Pete, where the fuck are you? I thought you were going to drive to a restaurant, not build one."
"A little problem, Tony. I find myself a material witness at a crime scene."
"You what? Tracy..."
"Tracy is alright, Tony. She's fine. But you need to come and get her."
I never heard Tony's reply. In fact, the last thing I heard was Tracy saying "Pete" as things faded to black.
I woke up in a very white room...no, hardly there, a hospital...surrounded by flowers.
"See, Liz, I told you his head was not a vital organ."
"Tony, you're..."
"Incorrigible, he knows that, Liz."
"Welcome back to the living, counselor."
"How long?"
"The nurse didn't have time to measure."
"TONY!"
"Not long. Apparently you had a minimum of a Grade III concussion. They kept you under for awhile. They said you should have passed out immediately."
"I had something I had to do first."
"I saw the tape on the security cam. Gunny Mitchell would have been proud."
"Someone you know from the service, no doubt" interjected Liz.
"Self-defense instructor," I explained.
"He and Pete had a great relationship. How many of your ribs did he break?"
"Just two."
"He broke two of your ribs?"
"I was getting frustrated in class. I couldn't get a hand on him."
"So Bruce Lee here sells out and lands a shot to the side of Gunny's head and takes a knee to the ribcage in return. Pete is laying on the ground and Gunny says was that worth it, boy?' and Pete yells SIR, YES SIR!' When the medics got there Gunny says `give that boy a smooth ride, we may make a Marine out of him yet.'"
"Pete..."
"Yeah, Liz."
"Tracy said those two said something...about her."
"Maybe. They probably weren't talking about a 16 inch thin crust with anchovies."
"I'm glad you were there."
"Were they able to get an i.d. on that pair, Tony?"
"Yeah. From their rap sheets, they weren't talking about anchovies."
"Good riddance then."
"Agreed. But the representatives of local law enforcement still want to talk to you. The tape is pretty clear, though. They just need to finish their paperwork. There's a uniform in the hall who's ready when you are."
"Fine. Let's get it over with."
"There is, however, someone else in the hall."
"She'll be pissed. We never did get the pizza."
"Idiot."
Liz opened the door and Tracy flew in.
"Uncle Pete. You look terrible."
"Thanks, sweetie, do I know you?"
I may have sold the post-concussion syndrome too well. Tracy looked stricken.
"Daddy?"
"Well, Tracy, they said his brain scan was negative and I guess they were right."
"Stop it both of you!" Liz ordered.
"Hi, Trace. How you doin?"
"Oh, Pete..."
A determined hugger is apparently not deterred by a roomful of medical equipment.
"Trace, I think those things are supposed to stay attached. We don't want the nurses thinking I've flatlined."
"I'm sorry. I was worried."
"I'll be fine."
"He'll be finer sooner Tracy if we leave him alone for awhile," said Liz.
"I'll come by as soon as I get out, Tracy, promise."
"You better."
Tony and I watched as Tracy and Liz left the room.
"So who were those two fucks anyway?"
"Locals. Long record. No known associations. They won't be missed."
"Good. It might have been touchy if they had friends and were out freelancing."
"I noticed you didn't take long to disregard that possibility."
"Touchy doesn't mean I gave a fuck. Not with Tracy involved."
"We owe you, Pete."
"Just doing my civic duty, Tony. Let's get this statement stuff out of the way so I can get some more drugs."
Officer Antonacci was brief and to the point. Since my statement was corroborated by the tape, it was mostly a formality.
As he reached the door, however, he turned.
"I saw the tape. That was nice work. You keep that up people are going to be more careful with their lawyer jokes."
I laughed.
"What's so funny?"
"Before you got here my friend was saying that if the last thing you do in life isn't fucking a hot chick, pistol-whipping a lawyer has to be a close second."
Antonacci laughed. "If he wasn't your friend I would he was seriously fucked."
"Don't worry, everyone else does. Have a good day, officer."
"You, too, Mr. Vogel."
Apparently the hospital was having utilization issues because it they wanted to keep me two days before I was discharged. I took the news well.
"If you think I'm spending the next two days pissing in a stainless steel pan you are seriously mistaken."
"Mr. Vogel, the doctor says you are allowed some limited mobility. If you can make it back and forth to the bathroom without assistance you do not have to use a bed pan."
"Good for both of us. I was going to have carryout chili smuggled in until..."
"Even nurses can have too much information, Mr. Vogel, we understand."
My extended stay corresponded to a move from ICU to a private room. Most of the flowers seemed to follow me. As I got steadier on my feet...so I lied to the nurses, I'm a lawyer...I got up to read the cards. Mostly clients, Tony, of course, and several Mazzarinos.
Phillip, Kelly and Paul were among my first visitors.
Paul was Paul.
"I told the kids you needed rest, not company. They paid as much attention as usual."
"I appreciate all of those sentiments, Paul. It's a hell of a way to spend the weekend. How did the steaks come out, by the way?"
"Tony left them as soon as you called. They got a Viking funeral."
"I seem to have screwed up his party."
"Don't be stupid," Paul said in his Voice of Doom. Then he laughed, "Tony's parties usually get screwed up somehow. This was merely one of the more unusual episodes."
"Does it hurt where he hit you?" asked Kelly.
"Not if I take a pill the size of a football every two hours like they tell me to."
Phillip was quiet, even by his own standards.
"Daddy, I'm hungry, can we run to the cafeteria?"
"Kelly, we just got here, you want to leave already?"
"No, I just want to get some food. Phillip can keep Pete company."
"This seems kind of rude, Pete..."
"No problem, Paul. Kids gotta eat."
As Paul and Kelly left the room, Phillip's solemn expression changed into a wicked grin.
"Sometimes I hate my sister, but she can be helpful."
"Why do I wonder just how hungry Kelly actually was?"
"Don't wonder. Just lay there and let me show you how much I've missed you. Do you have one of those hospital gowns on under there?"
"I believe so."
"Good."
Phillip moved his chair to the far side of the bed. He reached under the sheet until he found my cock.
"He's already getting hard. Is that for me or for Kelly?"
"Why don't we just say for you and see where it leads?"
"Good answer."
Phillip's head disappeared under the sheet. I could feel his mouth as it sought out my cock. He very gently took the end, what much have been about an inch, inch and a half or so, in his mouth, and started to stroke the rest.
I had no idea how long the lines in the cafeteria were going to be, but figured that with the nurses rounds beginning shortly, I wasn't going to have the time I would have liked to savor Phillip's blow job. I started to arch my hips in time with the bobbing of his head. I was closer than I had thought.
"Phillip, now."
He pulled his head back just a little, and was able to take most of my load without coughing or gagging. As his head emerged from under the sheet, there were little droplets of cum on his chin.
"Kleenex on the stand, Phillip."
He wiped his face off and tossed the tissue in one of the omnipresent waste baskets.
"What do you think?"
"I think we're more than even for me doing you in your bedroom, Phillip."
"Which means you owe me, right?"
"You could say that."
"Good. I expect to collect."
"It will be our mutual pleasure. But why don't you grab me one of those blankets over there right now? I want to make sure I don't display any evidence of our activity when your dad and Kelly get back."
Phillip complied and we made small talk for the next 10 minutes or so until the nurse came in to get my order for dinner. As she was leaving, Paul and Kelly came in.
"How was the chow?"
Kelly made a face.
"The young don't realize that institutional food is an acquired taste."
"How can you mess up a hamburger?" asked Kelly.
"She thinks that was beef, doesn't she, Paul?"
"Ewwwwwww, gross."
Phillip just laughed.
"Guys," said Paul," we need to go and let Pete get his rest."
"That's probably a good idea," I added, honestly. "You can always come back tomorrow. Kelly can give the cafeteria a second chance."
"Ewwwwwww. Never."
"See you, Coach," said Phillip.
"Pete."
"Paul."
The Mazzarinos left and I had about a nanosecond of privacy when Kelly came back in.
"I told my dad there was something I wanted to tell you, so he said hurry."
"And...?"
"Now you owe me more."
"How's that?"
"I really wasn't hungry, I just wanted you and Phillip to be alone."
"He kind of hinted about that."
"Did you wonder about how he learned to give blow jobs?"
"You don't..."
"Like I said, you owe me. Later, Pete."
To be continued...Nifty willing. Comments, positive, negative, and otherwise (?) are always appreciated. Happy New Year! STDL