On Archimedes Street (36 page)

“I would not have proposed this enterprise otherwise, Mr. Racy. I bathed a mere fortnight ago.

“Where, then, shall we pursue this occupation, Bigley, with the least opportunity for discovery by prying eyes?

“Bigley took his friend by the arm and strolled toward the coach house, which sheltered a curricle, phaeton, and barouche box. ‘We shall remain safely unobserved in the barouche box.’

“Are you certain, sir, that we shall not be molested there?

“I have every intention, sir, of being molested, and of molesting in return.

“As Bigley stepped onto the footplate of the carriage, Racy allowed his hand to stray.

“You are aptly named, Mr. Bigley. Very well, then. After you.

“Then Dick yanked Rod’s hands over his head and held them captive in his strong grip. Although shorter than Rod, Dick was the stronger, and he used his knees to pin the bigger man’s upper arms to the mattress as he loomed over his face.”

“Wait. What happened to Bigley and Racy? I
liked
them.”

“The barouche box was a time machine,” Dutch whispered, “and it teleported them to their present-day incarnations, Dick Bigley and Rod Racy, currently naked and sweaty in a seedy motel in Mobile, Alabama. Besides, talking nineteenth-century is some tedious, hard shit. And don’t interrupt again.

“‘Oh, no. I don’t
do
that, and I’m not about to start now. Get off.’ Rod struggled in Dick’s grip.

“I’ll get off, all right, don’t you worry. After I sit on your face. I eat your ass all the time, Rod. Do you think you’re too good to eat mine?” Dutch slipped a hand under the blanket on Flip’s lap. “Yeah, now you’re
definitely
gonna eat mine. You don’t have any choice. You’re trapped, and I’m going to make you. I’m gonna grind it right into your face.”

Flip listened to Dutch’s salacious whispers with growing interest. This was exactly what he’d been fantasizing about doing to Dutch, and here was Dutch outlining how the scene would play itself out. He’d had his thighs clenched against Dutch’s probing fingers, but he relaxed them and let Dutch start to stroke softly under the blanket. He made no objection when Dutch nimbly worked the zipper down and drew out his cock. The risk of being found out heightened the erotic rush the story was fueling.

He brought his lips near Dutch’s ear. “I don’t want to shoot all over the seat.”

“We’ll use one of these fine cloth napkins so conveniently provided by Ted,” Dutch whispered back. “Besides, I’m sure they steam-clean the upholstery to receive the next round of first-class twats.”

“You’re a first-class twat, all right,” Flip whispered in return.

“Haw! Haw! Haw!” Dutch boomed at full volume. Ted and the first-class passengers swiveled their heads toward them in comic synchronicity. “Dick just made a funny,” Dutch explained sheepishly.

They remained the object of occasional and pointed stares, during which Dutch pushed the penis down between Flip’s thighs, but he continued slowly circling his index finger and thumb around the glans, which was by now leaking. He withdrew his hand, and Flip quickly reached down to flatten the tent pole. Dutch brought his fingers to his nose. “Wish I had a foreskin.” Then he brought his fingertips to his mouth and discreetly applied a liberal amount of saliva.

“Where were we? Oh yeah,” Dutch resumed his undercover manipulations.

“No, don’t make me; please don’t make me.

“But Dick brought his knees to either side of Rod’s ears. ‘Fuck me with your nose,’ he grunted, as he squatted over Rod’s face.

“‘No, no,’ said Rod, but the breaths of the protestations on Dick’s lowering behind only inflamed him and spurred him on.”

Flip was hard and held his body stiffly still, trying to squelch the impulse to writhe against Dutch’s fingers.

“‘Yes, yes,’ said Dick. Rod twisted his face to escape the cage of Dick’s buttocks, but his efforts simply drove his nose farther into the cleft. He held his breath until he couldn’t any longer.”

Dutch was gauging how much longer he had to spin this story out to push Flip to the brink. He guessed not much from the state of the cock.

“Suddenly, Rod surrendered. He realized it was hopeless, and he decided to let himself experience what was happening to him. To his surprise, he realized that he enjoyed the sensation of being held down and dominated. His pecker certainly wasn’t complaining. And he decided that active participation would probably hasten this thing to its conclusion. So he moved his nose in a counterclockwise circle, since Dick was currently grinding his ass onto his face in a clockwise motion.

“‘That’s right! Nose it up in there!’

“He was growing accustomed to the scent, which originally had been overpoweringly sweaty. He reached out tentatively with the tip of his tongue.

“‘Do it! Lick it! Tongue-fuck it!’”

He’d better wrap this up, Dutch decided. Flip was breathing shallowly through pursed lips, trying not to pant. He reached with his free hand to get a napkin at the ready beneath the blanket.

“And then Rod was going crazy, rubbing his face into Dick’s ass and tonguing it as deeply as he could. It was intoxicating. He couldn’t get enough.

“‘Okay, that’s good. You’ve had enough of an ass feast.’ Dick lifted his rear off Rod’s face and positioned himself over Rod’s now brick-hard and slimed dick. ‘Now get used to being used like the dildo you are.’

“With those words, Dick impaled himself with a groan and started riding up and down for the finish. After a few minutes of delicious friction, Rod let out a guttural grunt, ‘Uuunnnhhh!’, and flooded Dick’s hole.

“‘Now I’m gonna spooge right on your assy face,’ said Dick as he lifted his cum-filled ass off the huge member.”

Dutch felt the beginning of a twitch in the shaft. He did two things in quick succession. First, he pressed the Flight Attendant button. Next, he knocked over what was left of Flip’s beer. Flip startled in alarm, but he couldn’t suppress the impending ejaculation.

“‘You might want to close your eyes,’ said Dick, ‘if you don’t want jit there. But then again, you might want to open them if you wanna see me shoot.’ And then he came….”

Flip shot wordlessly into the napkin that Dutch had swaddled around his cockhead.

“… in great big ribbons across Rod’s nose and lips. The End.”

“Yes? Can I help you?” Ted reached for the illuminated Attendant button to turn it off. Then he grew wide-eyed at the tented blanket. Flip pushed his cock down and clenched his thighs around it.

“We’ve had a little accident. This Dick is always spilling. So clumsy. Fortunately, Dick had already drunk most of his beer.”

Dutch handed Ted the beer-soaked napkin, then the other one, which was faintly redolent of spunk and cock. Flip closed his eyes and felt the flush rise in hot waves to his face. Then he opened his eyes. Ted took the first napkin and then, tentatively, the second. He disappeared to wherever it is that attendants disappear to.

“Are you out of your mind? He could have me arrested!” Flip hissed in a whisper.

“Oh, live a little, Flabbott,” Dutch whispered back. “He’s about to pop out of his blue-serge steward pants. He’s practically creaming himself. Wanna bet that he locks himself into the tourist-cabin john with that napkin? We just made his day.”

“I’ll take that bet. But—win or lose—I get to be Dick when we get to the hotel.”

“You’re already a dick. Haw-haw-haw. And okay, you can be Dick. But only if you jog on the treadmill of the hotel gym for an hour beforehand and get it nice and sweaty. After all, Racy got a full two weeks of Bigley’s eau de apocrine. I get only a few hours’ worth. Not fair.”

After they taxied to the gate, the blue-haired gnome in 2A rose on her stick legs and gave Dutch her card. “Young man, I remember when traveling was a true luxury, not like today, when airports bring cattle drives to mind. However, never in my traveling days have I been so thoroughly entertained during a flight. Wish the Austen part had gone on a bit longer, though, as much as I enjoyed Rod and Dick. Present that card to the maître d’ at Esplanade. The chef is my son. Be sure to call ahead and make a reservation. They get busy. The least I can do is to treat you to a good meal.”

Flip reddened with embarrassment, but Dutch bowed smoothly and kissed the liver-spotted hand. “Madam, you are a lady of great discernment and exquisite taste.”

Chapter 49

“W
HAT
WRONG
,
Special Ed? Look like you got the zin-zin.”

Things were a little awkward between them. The sex had dwindled off, until finally, by unspoken agreement, they had stopped it altogether. “What are the san-san?”

“The zin-zin like a cross ’tween the blues and the blahs, like when you feelin’ down and somethin’ else goin’ on, like a col’ or a hangovah.”

“I was just thinking about my old life, and everything that was wrong with it, and the few things that were right with it.”

“How long you let this go on? Hidin’ out here like a outlaw! You ain’t done nothin’ wrong. You wastin’ yo’self. You know what you got? It gol’, Special Ed, gol’! Diamon’s! What you got you don’t jes’ t’row away, jes’ ’cuz some sixteen-year-ol’—’scuse my French—little twat wanna get in your pants. You know the good you could do in this worl’? You toin my life ’roun’, Special Ed. An’ now you hidin’ in my kitchen. For what?”

“What am I supposed to do, Elwood? Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I should have stayed and contested her story. And maybe I would have landed in prison with a twenty-five-year sentence and a sign hanging around my neck—sexual predator—for the rest of my life. But my running from her charges sealed my fate. Everyone thinks I’m guilty.”

“But you din’t do nothin’. You nebber touch her! She sure woodana sent you to jail for the res’ of your life for somethin’ you din’t do?”

“Adolescents and children don’t have a fully developed moral sense, Elwood. To her, the shame of being caught in that lie would have outweighed the guilt of locking me away unfairly and throwing away the key. And the young have such an overblown sense of dignity and self-importance. Admitting that she came on to me and then lied about what happened would have crushed and humiliated her. And there’s nothing worse to the young than humiliation.”

“Well, mebbe you right dere.” Elwood still bore the scars of childhood humiliations at the hands of his teachers.

“Besides, maybe I deserve this. Maybe I’m guilty after all.”

“What you sayin’? That you fuck her after all?”

“No. That I fucked a student.”

“You suck some little boy’s Vy-ee-na saus’ge? You nebber.”

“No. I sucked yours.”

“Is dat all? Dat different. We din’t start out wit’ you teachin’ me.”

“Well, actually, we kinda did. At least pretty near the beginning.”

“An’ we ain’t doin’ it no more.”

“No.”

“Why dat, Special Ed? I like it at the beginnin’. An’ you love it, waterin’ ovah it. An’ den, it jes’ got kinda creepy, you know?”

“It’s called ‘incest taboo.’ When a relationship starts to take on the characteristics of brother/sister, say, people don’t feel comfortable anymore. And little by little, we have become mentor/disciple, uncle/nephew, something like that.”

“Guess you right. I kinda got useta gettin’ it reg’lar, dough. Get horny now alla the time. Actual, got my eye on someone. Woodja mine, Special Ed?”

“Maybe a little, but of course we both deserve a life. You know, when I first stepped into this house and saw the picture of Mother Cabrini, I felt she had guided me here. And now I think I was right. I was led here to be your teacher, not your lover. You’re an amazing man, Elwood. You’ll make such a difference in so many lives.”

“Mother 
Cabrini
? Aw, nah! Don’t tell me dat. You woise than MeeMaw was, prayin’ an’ alla dat mumbo-jumbo. You s’pose to be
edjicated
, Special Ed. How you possible b’lieve in alla dat crap? It like Sanna Claus an’ the Easta Rabbit what lay colored eggs. Din’t need readin’, an’ writin’, an’ sums to figger dat out. You ebber see this Mother, or a angel, or anythin’ like dat? Dey speak to you, like from a cloud? It jes’ common sense!”

“Well, a lot of people believe—”

“Yeah, like my iggerant cuzzin LaNasa. Dat’s who you keepin’ company wit’.”

“This is something you don’t change people’s minds about.”

“Whatebber. But here’s what gonna happen. We goin’ on a road trip. To Mississippi.”

“Why Mississippi?”

“’Cuz it enudder state. An’ you so worry police gonna trace your call if you call your folks. An’ Lawsony like the waves in Gulfport, doncha Lawsony?”

Larceny set his tail into rotary motion and pawed the air.

“Also, we buy a dispos’ble phone at the Smart-Mart wit’ jes’ a hour’s time on it. Seen it onna the TV. It how the terra’ist blow shit up an’ nobody trace dem. Woik for you too. If your Maw say you still on the lam, you stay an’ take ovah the tree bid’ness an’ we figger out how to change your ’dentity. If not, you go back to teachin’, Special Ed. You can’t be hidin’ alla your life behin’ a tree. We gotta get you back teachin’.”

“What about you? Are you going to quit the tree business? You already spend most of your time studying, either with me or your tutor.”

“Not what I wanna do no more, but gotta keep at it a little ’til I figger out what I gonna do. My tutor she say I can pass the GED now. And den community college. Wanna keep loinin’. And bin talkin’ to a lady from the school board. I make instruction videos, she say.”

I
T
HAD
been a day for visits. First Dutch and his friend. During that visit, Paule accidentally overheard an exchange between her son and Dutch that dumbfounded her. Dutch was apparently engaged in a relationship with his roommate, and apparently something had happened between Dutch and her son, though it was clearly not love.

Then Mr. Twardowski, with an affecting gift. An antique set of woodworking tools from the early nineteenth century, in a beautiful walnut box lined in dark-blue velvet. Obviously, Frenchy had opened up to him about his ambition to become a luthier.