An Officer and His Gentleman (13 page)

But he did finally pull out, and Chance went into the bathroom to clean up. It was a small green room with an old rust-stained sink that had two different faucets for hot and cold water, a toilet with a pull chain, and a tin shower stall that looked a bit rickety. When he emerged, Brody was under the covers and he was sitting up in bed waiting for him. He patted the left side and said, "Get under the covers so I can hold you."
Chance smiled, then reached down to take off the high heels.
"Ah ... can you leave the shoes on for a while?"
Chance nodded his head and crossed to the other side of the bed. When he was under the covers and his head was resting on Brody's chest, he lifted his right leg and put it between Brody's legs so the heel of one shoe would rub against his leg. "How's that?"
Brody closed his eyes and sighed. "Nice, baby. When I wake up, I'm gonna nail you to the bed the next time."
Chance woke up at five the next morning, with Brody snoring on top of him and white high heels still on his feet. He lifted his legs under the covers and reached down to hold Brody's dick. He only had to squeeze it a few times to get him hard, and it only took a minute or so after that for Brody to be inside him, bucking hard. He remained flat on his back this time, with his legs up, and bent so far back his knees were practically touching his chin. Brody kicked off all the covers and placed both large hands on either side of his shoulders. He went in fast and started bucking up and down, grunting and moaning like an animal. And he didn't just buck his hips this time—it felt like he was doing push-ups on top of him.
They both came fast that morning, with their mouths locked together. When Brody fell on top of him, he crossed his feet at the ankles and rested the high heels on the small of Brody's back. Then he said, "I have to get back. I have to make a special for the day and open the market."
Brody had pinned him to the bed with his dick still inside, pumping his ass slowly. "Thanks for wearing the high heels. It's really hot, baby."
"Can we get together again this weekend?"
Brody sighed. "Probably on Sunday night. I have this thing to do on Saturday. I promised my mother I'd go out with this girl she knows. Because she's dying, she wants to take one more shot at seeing me find the right woman to settle down with. I only agreed to do it to keep her from getting all upset. I'm sorry. Trust me, this girl is no one I'd ever be interested in. But it's something I have to do."
Chance spread his legs a little wider and ran his hands lightly over Brody's shoulders. He was still inside, but he knew it would pop out at any minute. "It's okay. I'll sneak out on Sunday night when the old man's asleep." Then Brody's dick slid all the way out.
A few minutes later, when he kissed Chance goodbye at the door, Brody grabbed his waist and said, "I think I'm going to get you a pair of bright red high heels for Sunday."
Chance wasn't sure if he was serious or not, so he grabbed his dick and said, "Only if you're a good boy." Then he left him standing in the doorway, semi-erect.
The old man returned from Maryland that afternoon with a gigantic grin and a spring in his step. The squirrels had been set free on a remote tract of land near Virginia, and he knew he'd never see them again. He was so certain of this, he pounded his fist on the counter and stomped his right foot. And he was in such a good mood the rest of the week that he actually gave Chance a twenty-dollar bill when he asked if he could go to The Island with Sarah on Saturday night. Sarah's boyfriend, Mike, was away for the weekend and they decided to just hang out together that night. Chance was frustrated because he couldn't see Brody, and he was on the verge of biting his fingernails worrying about whether or not he'd be selected in the recipe contest on the Food Network. The following Monday, they were going to choose the finalists for the competition, and he wanted it so desperately that he couldn't sleep at night. At least he'd be able to see Brody on Sunday night. It occurred to him that being satisfied by Brody's big dick was the best sedative he'd ever known.
The weather had turned on Saturday morning from hot and humid to dry and very cool. The hills of northwest New Jersey were almost a thousand feet above sea level, and when it got cold in the Lakeland area during the summer, the temperature could drop well below sixty degrees at night. Neither Chance nor Sarah had thought ahead and brought jackets, so after they walked around The Island a few times, they decided to go into the bar at the pier to warm up with a few drinks. It was crowded that night, and they were lucky to find two empty seats at the bar.
Chance ordered a cup of black coffee with a shot of vodka, and Sarah ordered her usual bottle of beer. She laughed hard when a drunk, middle-aged guy with a white baseball cap put his arm around Chance's shoulders and offered to buy him another drink. And she nearly fell off her stool when Chance politely refused and the guy reached down and squeezed his thigh. Chance didn't respond; he refused to even make eye contact. He knew that if he ignored the guy, he'd disappear eventually.
But while he was staring straight ahead, trying to get rid of the annoying man, he noticed a familiar face standing near the pool table. He reached over and grabbed Sarah's arm and whispered, "
Brody
is over there. And he's talking with some guy." The other guy was very young, with reddish brown hair and a bump in the middle of his nose that made it resemble a parrot's beak.
"I thought he was going on some bogus date tonight," she said. Then she turned and saw him standing there, too. His head was facing the floor and when he slowly raised his arm to drink his beer he stumbled a few times. The guy with whom he was talking was smiling and waving his arms, and he kept touching Brody on the shoulder in an overly familiar manner. "It's probably just an old friend," she said. But she was frowning, and she tapped her bottom lip with her index finger.
Chance leaned back so Brody wouldn't see him. The young guy Brody was talking to whispered something in his ear. The next thing Chance saw was Brody and the guy crossing toward the exit door. Brody held his beer and walked slowly, staring at the floor to be sure he wouldn't bump into anything and fall. The guy held his elbow and guided him so he wouldn't knock into anyone.
"C'mon," Chance said, "I want to follow them outside."
Sarah quickly finished her beer with a few swallows and popped another stick of gum into her mouth. They followed them out of the bar, toward the main exit, and then out to the dark parking lot. Brody almost tripped over a rock, but the guy reached out before he fell. Brody started to laugh, and then he reached down and squeezed the guy's ass a few times. Chance pressed his lips together tightly; he shoved his hands into his pockets and clenched his fists. Sarah's eyes were wide and she started to rub her palms together.
The dark Cadillac was parked way out back, almost hidden behind a large weeping willow. When Brody and the guy reached the car, they went to the back, near the trunk, where they could hide next to overgrown shrubbery. But Chance could see everything they were doing. The young guy unbuttoned Brody's pants and pulled down his zipper. He reached into the opening and pulled out his cock. It was still soft and it flopped against his jeans. Brody's eyes were only half open and he had to lean back against the car for support. Then the guy disappeared; he went down between the cars and all they could see was Brody standing there, still slugging back the beer.
"Oh my God!!" Sarah said. She was staring at Brody's limp penis—his dick, when soft, was the size most dicks get when they were erect. "If he's that large when it's soft, I can't even imagine how large it is when he's got wood. It's a wonder you can even walk after being with him."
Chance ignored her. He clenched his fists again and he sniffed back a few times because he didn't want to start crying. "It's big because his brain is in his dick," he said.
Then Chance stepped forward and walked up to the car parked next to Brody's Cadillac. When he cleared his throat and coughed, Brody looked up and saw him standing there. Sarah was right behind him, chewing her gum violently and rocking on the balls of her feet. The only thing Sarah loved more than big dick was a good fight.
At first Brody didn't recognize him; he was so drunk he could barely see the guy about to suck his penis. But then he blinked a few times, jerked his head, and stared back at Chance. When the magnitude of the situation finally registered, he shook his head and asked, "What are you doing here?" He stepped back, as if he'd become instantly sober, and pulled up his zipper.
The guy who on his knees and ready to open his mouth said, "Hey, what the fuck?"
"Get out of here," Brody told him. He buttoned his jeans and crossed to the front of the car.
Chance straightened his shoulders and said, "No. I don't want to interrupt you boys. We're going home. You have a good life, Brody. I'll see y'around." He turned, grabbed Sarah by the arm, and headed to his car.
"Have a good life? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Brody shouted. He left the other guy standing next to his car and followed them.
When he reached Chance's side, he grabbed his elbow. "Stop. Don't leave like this."
But it was too late for that. Chance jerked away and said, "Leave me alone. You said you had a bogus date, and here you are getting sucked off by some ugly dude with a hook nose. You're a liar." He started walking faster. Poor Sarah had to hold her tits and jog to keep up the pace.
"I
did
have a date," Brody shouted, "But it ended early and I got a little depressed, and I came here for a drink. I swear I didn't plan this. I'm sorry ... please don't leave like this. I made a mistake. I had too much to drink and that guy came on to me."
"Well, you could have said no," Chance shouted. "You could have said, 'Sorry, I'm involved with someone and I can't do this.' But no, you just get drunk, let that whore pull down your zipper, and spread your legs."
"Men are pigs," Sarah shouted. "All they care about is one thing." Her hands were on her hips and she nodded her head up and down.
Both Brody and Chance stopped and stared at her for a second. Then Chance started walking fast again. Brody could have pointed out that Chance had been more than willing to let three strange guys tag his ass on the boat that night. But that wasn't the same; they'd both agreed to do that together. This time, Brody was sneaking around behind Chance's back.
When they reached Chance's car, Brody was still pleading for forgiveness. He made a fist with his left hand and started punching the palm of his right hand. But Chance and Sarah got into the car and slammed the doors shut. Chance pulled away, leaving Brody there waving his arms in a cloud of dust. Chance gripped the steering wheel tightly as the car screeched and swerved. When they rounded a corner near the exit road, the rear end fishtailed a few times. Sarah's eyes were still wide and her lips were pressed together tightly. This was the sort of drama one didn't see every day.
"Are you going to forgive him?" she asked, when they were on Lakeside Drive and the car wasn't swerving anymore.
He clenched the steering wheel with both hands and locked his teeth together. Then he said, "I've been kicked in the ass enough in my life so far. I don't need it from him, too."
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Early on Sunday morning, Chance went down to the barn to see if there were any squirrels in cages. The traps were empty, and he went back into the market and started to prepare a special brownie recipe for the wooden bowl display. His eyes were still puffy from crying, and both legs felt heavy from not sleeping. The brownie recipe was simple to prepare: a surprisingly rich blend of three kinds of chocolate—that you could easily buy at any supermarket—all tossed together in one large mixing bowl with regular brownie ingredients. Almost too simple for him to have the audacity to charge two dollars and fifty cents for each individual bar.

After he placed them in the oven, he opened the front door and situated the open sign on the sidewalk outside the front steps. The sky was bright blue and the sun was shining in his face. It was warmer, and they were predicting a long heat wave for the end of the week. When he looked across the street with his hand over his eyebrows, he saw a large black Cadillac parked on the side of the road. Brody stared at him through the open window. His eyes were wide and innocent and his face was covered with five o'clock shadow. Chance's heart skipped a beat, and he almost took a step forward. But then he stopped, turned around, and went back into the market. He didn't go out front again, but he kept looking out the front window all day long, peeking beyond the rows of pretzel sticks and cheese puffs. Brody didn't leave until three o'clock that afternoon.

He was parked there again on Monday morning. So Chance made Sarah put the open sign outside when she came in at nine. She looked across the road and smiled at Brody. He smiled back, and then she shrugged her shoulders. When she came back into the market Chance was standing behind the register. She said, "I hope you know what you're doing. If I had a guy like Brody camping out front for me, I'd be begging
his
forgiveness."

Chance smiled and shook his head. He wasn't sure if she meant that Brody cared enough to camp outside the market to beg his forgiveness, or because he had a large penis; with Sarah, you never knew. But it didn't matter anyway. "I can't trust him anymore," he told her. It had occurred to him a few times, mostly during the night when he tossed and turned, that maybe he was being too hard on Brody and that he should just forget about his little indiscretion. And then he'd remember the lump he felt in his stomach when he saw the other guy pull down Brody's zipper in the parking lot. He couldn't forget the sharp pain in his chest when he saw the guy going down between Brody's legs.

On Tuesday morning, while he was preparing small hand pies as the special of the day, Sarah came clopping into the market wearing a pink terry bathrobe and white fluffy bed slippers. She came in through the side door of the kitchen. Though her hair was pulled back in a dreadful ponytail and her eyes were still puffy with sleep, her voice was animated and she was smiling.

"Why are you here at this time of day?" he asked. No one but the squirrels got up with Chance. "Are you sleepwalking?" His voice was low and his movements were swift and awkward. He knew they'd selected the recipe winners on Monday and he hadn't heard a thing.