This story has a degree of sexually-explicit behaviour between men. If you are offended by such powerfully emotional things, aren't at least 18, are from a locality proscribing such material, please don't read any further.
This is totally a product of my fevered brain, so please don't think you recognise someone as a real person, cause you'd be wrong. The same goes for the places. In this story, you'll find smart people practicing safer sex and some not. The author recommends that you always make the smart choice and use a condom. Eroticize it.
The author retains all rights. No reproductions or links to other sites are allowed without the author's consent.
Note: This story is not intended to be the lube merchant's best friend. It may take some getting used to, but if you stay with me, you may get a bit of the 'bodice ripper' and a bit of the 'storke story' to boot. I just hope it's different enough from other things you've read to give you at least a modicum of amusement.
Almost any writer wants to know that people are affected in some way by his work. Please send any comments you may have to R. V. Picard at corbin75408@earthlink.net
Special thanks go the three mentors who's encouragement and empowerment have allowed me to share this with you by sharing themselves.
Thank you Sara, Tim and Patrick!
Chapter One
"Well you see, Your Honor, I was not yet 43, the chicken wasn't at all vexed about it, and General Motors doesn't care one way or the other."
As soon as the punch line left my mouth, the room spiraled down into a silence equal in magnitude to that which must have been present in Great Seti I's tomb prior to its entrance being breeched after many thousands of years. Within the space of that chasm of silence, the glaciers slid down the globe, had their way with the continents and receded to their present day positions of beauty and grandeur; the Himalayas lifted and weathered; the Great Wall of China was built and I died a thousand deaths of embarrassment because I thought no one would laugh.
Imagine then, my joy when Ash erupted a single projectile giggle into the very heart of that leaden silence. The effect of this eructation of suppressed mirth was like the firing of some shared neuron in hive-brained insects, causing fundamental and raucous laughter to possess everyone present. Guffaws descended upon them. It was as if the Holy Spirit blithely and hurriedly handed out what he thought was the gift of tongues but found, in his haste, he had picked up the Laff Bag instead.
Folks, these people were pissing themselves with laughter. It wasn't of my doing, even though I had told the joke. I can never tell them right, but this time . . . THIS time, it had worked. Quite frankly, I was astounded and relieved at their quite unexpected reaction. The most I had expected were a few politic chuckles and a rather too quick change of subject. What's the expression? Past experience doth make fools of us all . . . or that's blood under the bridge or something like that.
It was Joe. It's always Joe. When Joe's around, I rise. When Joe is near, I'm more than the various pieces that have, for some years now, made up the person know to my little section of the cosmos as Pete. Peter Ulysses Dorn, if you must have the whole truth.
Before we go any further let's just beard this particular lion in its den, then, shall we? Thanks to my wonderful and otherwise completely loving and supportive grandmother, I was, in my nascent months, given the nickname Pud which I considered to be a consumetly cruel and unnatural burden to hang upon an innocent baby. Never mind the wellspring of tenderness which first spawned that appellation. Obviously, she and my family didn't care one whit about the torture which came to me in later years because of that ill-considered name. Both Peter and Pud were used as the basis for unceasing sexual innuendo and ribbing as I grew. Everyone did it: my folks and relations, the preacher, the barber, everyone. I could see it coming in the flash of an eye or the lilt of a chin. Yip, here it comes. Get ready for the double entendre. This one's gonna be a real pip!
"Well Mr. Dorn, it's been nice visiting with you and your little Peter."
"Peeeeeeet . . . errrrrr? What'ca doin'? Pullin' yer pud?" Bwaaahahahahahahahaha!
Ah yes. All were so relentlessly witty, all were sure they were the very first humans to have the scathingly brilliant idea to make light of my name. Exasperation very quickly became my constant companion.
Now, I consider myself to be a man with a gentle nature, but it comes hard won, let me assure you. For many years, I built layer upon layer of emotional defenses until the resulting edifice could have withstood a sustained siege with no problem at all. Just like the inhabitants of besieged castles, I was secure within myself. My walls were impenetrable. The resources within those lovingly constructed walls were sufficient to sustain me for quite a long while indeed. Those resources, in fact, sustained me for years.
Please understand that my collection of defenses were not just in response to a little teasing about my name. My childhood was peppered with incident. I'll save the gory details until some soggy night by the fire, some night more appropriate to either a comedy of errors or a horror story; I can adjust to which ever you're in the mood for at the time. Just believe me when I convey to you that, as far as incident is concerned, my life has contained an embarrassment of riches. Had I been able to choose those things which befell me, as some of the world's religions believe, I doubt my choices would have resulted in such walls being erected around my feelings.
So, I think you begin to get the picture. I'm a man, my own man. I've learned to protect my emotions and be content within myself. I survived what was, to others eyes and in truth, a fairly idyllic boyhood and armed with a bright mind, a strong constitution and an invincible will, I eased into manhood with an outward projection of surety, strength and competence. Success in my chosen profession as viewed by those `other eyes' seemed to have been conferred, but had, in reality, been carefully planned and constructed, by me, for my protection and comfort. It's a shame it was all so empty. Half the joy of drinking a noble wine is in the sharing of it with someone who has the capacity to enjoy it as much as you do. A fellow commentator upon the virtues of the vintage, a fellow romantic who can speak to the art that caused this miracle of taste to happen.
It was Joe. It's always been Joe. When Joe's around, I rise. When Joe's around, I can tell jokes, I don't burn the eggs or break their yolks when I turn them, doors close with only one try and my soul soars. We don't complete each other. Rather, we enhance and magnify each other. Our chemistry is elemental. Combined, we are the Grail, the missing element from the periodic table of elements in nature.
When I was a kid, I just knew he'd be there one day. This was a knowledge based on the bedrock of faith. I've always believed that a person is graced with faith. It's not my belief that it can be achieved and striven for. It either is given you or you lack it. I had it where Joe was concerned or I probably would have led a really miserable existence.
I didn't have a sense of what his name would be or his physical stature or his intelligence or indeed anything regarding anything about him other than that he would assuredly be male. It's my belief that my orientation was set when I was a zygote! My love could be none other than male.
And so it was, on a cool May night, in a quiet corner of a dark restaurant, that a really bad joke which was in imminent danger of bombing, unaccountably ignited like tinder touched by a windborne firebrand. The flames of laughter flashed around our tight little evening party and utterly consumed all the oxygen in the room. `I' wasn't laughing. I was in extremis tying to gulp in precious air. I couldn't breath for the very good reason that here he stood. He was looking directly at me. I might as well have had a javelin piercing my chest and pinning me to my chair. I KNEW him. We had never seen each other before but naturally I would have known he was there even had I been blind. His presence seeped into my being and exchanged an unknowable essence with my own spirit.
To those enjoying a tumultuous laugh, time must have skittered by and what by any actual clock would have been merely seconds, seemed to Joe and me to be elongated, languid hours of peace. Tranquility and recognition were our harbor and joy was the wind which pushed us toward each other.
He came to me. I rose into his rock solid loving gaze. Our right hands levitated toward each other and these opposite poles of touch's sense sealed themselves together. The potential that was us became flesh.
"Vivienne? Will you please stop the damn chortling and introduce us?" he asked my chum Vivvy.
"Joseph William Smith, please meet Peter Ulysses Dorn." she gasped between giggles.
The world cracked open when he smiled at me and a new entity was born. That new entity was us; we.
"Hi Peter, I'm Joe."
"Yes, of course you are. You have to be. Joe, I'm Pete."
Having said that, what little oxygen was left in my lungs was at last expended and always having been one to know when and how to make an exit to best effect, I immediately fainted like a movie queen and spilled my red wine in a phenomenally beautiful arc down the front of his white linen suit.