by Jay Bell
Language Lessons © 2011 Jay Bell
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without permission.
Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. If you do steal this book, at least have the decency to leave a nice review or recommend it to a friend with more cash to spare. ;)
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or events is purely coincidental. They are productions of the author's fevered imagination and used fictitiously.
Cover art by Andreas Bell
www.andreasbell.com
Language Lessons
By Jay Bell
Clothes make the man. Whoever didn’t believe that simply wasn’t dressing right. Joey smirked at this thought as he traded his navy blue dress shirt for one that was pink and hugged his waist a bit tighter. His fingers nimbly took care of the buttons as he considered how even a different shirt could make him feel like a new person.
He had first discovered this phenomenon as a child while playing dress-up in his father’s clothes. To Joey, it was as if he had stolen the crown from the king, the lightning bolt from Zeus. Dressed in an ill-fitting suit jacket and business shirt with sleeves twice as long as his arm, he had felt transformed into a powerful grownup. This discovery had somewhat stripped away his father’s mystique, but the lesson had been worth the shattered illusion. As soon as Joey was old enough to escape the primary-colored nightmare that was children’s fashion, he had taken to wearing slacks, ties, and sometimes even suits.
While in school he often toned this down. His sense of fashion attracted less attention in high school than it had in junior high, but it still made him a target. Now, on the first day of summer vacation, Joey was free to make himself the man he wanted others to think he was. There was no need to check his hair as he walked to the window. He had already spent twenty minutes making sure his dark locks were perfectly styled, before a sudden desire for a different hue had urged him to change shirts.
Now all he had left to do was wait, but that shouldn’t take long. Joey flicked his wrist and checked his watch. A little past ten in the morning. He adjusted the blinds so he could better see the house across the street. Just a few years ago, he had found many excuses to glance up the long, concrete driveway, all in the hopes of seeing Bradley Tucker.
Ever since Joey had learned the joys of masturbation, Bradley had been his constant imaginary partner. Bradley was every bit the quintessential jock, at least by all appearances. As far as Joey knew, he wasn’t on any teams in school. Instead Bradley was one of those genetically gifted bastards who never worked out but had bulging ox muscles anyway.
Joey had never spoken to Bradley. Not once, which wasn’t as pathetic as it sounded since there was a four-year age difference between them. A twelve-year-old has nothing to offer someone who is sixteen, and after two years of Joey’s unrequited lust, Bradley had moved to college. Joey had simply moved on and was a different person now, since sex was no longer a fantasy. Occasionally he would pull Bradley out of the spank bank for old time’s sake, but mostly Joey hadn’t thought of him much.
Until last week, when Bradley’s beat-up Ford Escort filled the driveway again. Back from college for a visit, Joey surmised. That very same morning, Joey spotted the big lug standing outside, wearing a bored expression while the family dog did its business. The long forgotten lust reignited in Joey, but now, at least according to the rainbow sticker on the back of Bradley’s car, there was something he could do about it.
People were like clockwork. Sluggish clockwork desperately in need of oiling and maintenance, maybe, but still reliable. Most people did roughly the same thing at roughly the same time every day, even if they weren’t aware of it. Bradley was no exception. Soon enough, he strode barefoot out of the house, the fat family dog following behind like an earthbound balloon bobbing along at the end of its string.
Bradley was wearing terrible logo-emblazed sweatpants and a matching T-shirt, the kind every college managed to sell to their already financially burdened students. Half his hair was smooshed, the rest sticking up, as if he had just rolled out of bed. This suited Joey just fine. Just because he demanded impeccable hygiene and uncompromising style from himself, didn’t mean the men he found attractive need do the same. Maybe it was that old “opposites attract” adage, or maybe it was because the sloppier the other person dressed, the sharper it made Joey feel. Then again, Bradley could probably wear an old potato sack and still ooze sex appeal.
His target absentmindedly scratched at his package, reminding Joey that he was there for a reason. Checking to make sure his tie was immaculate—something he could do by touch alone—Joey danced down the stairs and stepped out the front door. He didn’t look at Bradley as he headed for the mailbox. Instead he considered the sky, smiling at the nice weather and glancing down the street as if he might be expecting visitors at any moment. Then he turned his back on Bradley to check the mail, but of course it was too early for a delivery. Only after he had shut the mailbox did he glance around, casually doing a double take as if he had only noticed Bradley standing there watching him.
“Oh, hello,” Joey said, walking across the street in a few short strides. Like a predator, he kept his gaze locked on Bradley’s green eyes that complemented his short golden hair so well. He couldn’t let the bronze skin or sprinkling of country boy freckles—nor the fantasies of rolling around in a hayloft that these physical characteristics brought to mind—distract him. Joey reached his hand out as he neared. “I think we used to go to school together. I’m Joseph. Joseph Cooper.”
This was something else he always did. “Joseph” just sounded so much more adult, and he liked very much for people to mistake him as such. Just last week, an old lady at the grocery store mistook him for an employee there. When he explained that he was the store manager, which of course he wasn’t, she didn’t even blink an eye.
“Brad,” Bradley replied, perhaps having adopted a similar strategy some years ago. He accepted Joey’s hand. Not a single callous marred his palms. He probably sat around all day stuffing chips into his mouth, but still had a physique that would make Hercules envious. Bradley’s brow furrowed. “Sorry, I don’t think I remember you.”
“I don’t believe we had any classes together,” Joey said. “I just remember you from the bus all those years ago.” He laughed as if this false memory was embarrassing, and Bradley joined him, showing off his perfect white teeth.
The conversation lulled, the silence filled only by the chirping of birds and a lawnmower off in the distance.
“Nice day for it,” Joey said.
“Nice day for what?” Bradley asked.
“Oh, I could think of a few things.” Joey let his eyes wander over Bradley’s body, which had only improved over the years. The muscular arms, the thick fingers, and the hint of skin just visible between the shirt and sweatpants. He took it all in without disguising his interest, before returning his eyes to Bradley’s innocent emeralds and giving him a crooked grin. “So,” he asked, “your place or mine?”
A number of expressions played across Bradley’s face, starting with confusion, followed by skepticism and amusement before settling on lust. Joey smiled encouragingly.
“Why not?” Bradley beamed. “No one’s home at my place. Let’s go.”
Joey said a quick ‘thank you’ to any gods who might be listening. He couldn’t remember any of their names, but he knew a lot of the old ones dealt in fertility. He followed Bradley up the drive to the front door, looking over his prize and trying t
o subdue the reaction in his pants until they were out of public view.
Bradley held the door open for him, as if they were on a date and stepping into a ritzy restaurant. Joey’s laughter was curtailed by the strange feeling of entering a house he had seen countless times from the outside, but never from the inside. That there were rooms full of furniture, knick-knacks, different scents, and history felt like a conjuring trick. All of this had been in plain view the entire time, but only now did the magician allow Joey to see it all.
“Uh, do you want a drink or something?” Bradley asked, obviously unsure how to proceed.
“I really don’t.” Didn’t a hot guy like Bradley get propositioned all the time? Joey had imagined this would be routine for him, but obviously he needed to take the lead. “Where’s your bedroom?”
“Down here,” Bradley said, as if relieved that they shared the same idea.
At the bottom of the carpeted stairs was a door. Behind it was a furnished basement that functioned as a bedroom, but Joey barely looked it over. As soon as the door was closed, he pressed Bradley up against it and began kissing him. Bradley was only surprised for a moment before his lips and other parts of him responded.
Sweatpants may be generous to expanding waistlines, but they do have other perks. When Joey stepped back and looked down, he found the fabric straining against the impressive rod beneath. The pants looked ready to rip through, so Joey reached for the waistband. Bradley’s hands were there first as he unceremoniously pulled down his pants and ripped off his shirt. Then he kicked the sweatpants off and strode over to the bed, flopping onto his back.
So that’s how it would be! Joey started unbuttoning his shirt while looking down at the bed. Bradley had one arm behind his head and a cocky grin on his face. His heavy muscles and thick torso prompted Joey to sigh as he moved his eyes down to the cock that was proportionate to the rest of the body. In other words, huge.
Joey carefully hung his shirt over the back of a chair and stepped out of his shoes. He took his time undoing his pants, facing Bradley and letting him watch. When Joey was finally nude, he crawled into the space left by Bradley’s spread legs. Joey didn’t mind a selfish lover. He was just as happy to serve as he was to be serviced. He took his time, enjoying how animated Bradley was, writhing and moaning as Joey went down on him.
By the time Bradley came he was bucking like a bronco, Joey holding on tight while keeping his fist pumping until the air was filled with the most glorious of explosions. Then he added to the mess by straddling Bradley’s hips and shooting his own load all over the awe-inspiring chest and abs.
Everyone has a system for cleaning up, and after they had panted a few minutes, Bradley revealed his. He groped around with one huge paw, searching blind over the bed’s edge until he found an old shirt on the floor. He used this to wipe his torso clean before flopping back onto the mattress, the springs groaning under his weight. Then Joey nestled against him, resting his head on one meaty deltoid.
“I never thought I’d say this again,” Bradley chuckled, “but I’m so glad my parents aren’t home.”
“You were a little loud,” Joey said, before reading further into the statement. “So were you sneaking a lot of action behind your parents’ backs when you lived here?”
“Oh, yeah. Well, not a lot, but there was this one guy.”
“Do tell, and don’t leave out the details.”
“I don’t know if I should,” Bradley said, but Joey could feel the boastful grin in his voice. “Then again, it’s not like any of us are in high school anymore. Do you remember Scott Hammond?”
“Nope.”
“Well, he was only a sophomore.”
“Oh, a younger guy,” Joey said, pleased with himself for passing as older.
“Yeah. I only had a semester left until graduation when the office noticed I hadn’t taken my language elective yet. Most people get that over with in the first couple of years, but I didn’t, so I took Spanish. There was some lame project we had to do, one of those things where you have to stand in front of the class. Scott and I were paired up, and we agreed to meet after school. The first time we met up, all we did was joke around. The second time too, if I remember right. Scott always cracked me up. Anyway, time was running out so we finally focused on the assignment the third night. One of the things we had to explain were the different words for love in Spanish.”
Joey gave his memory a jog. “Amar, encantar, and gustar?”
Bradley shrugged. “Something like that. I remember one is for things you like, another could be a friend or family member, and one you only say if you really, really mean it.”
“Te amo.”
“Yeah, that’s the one. Anyway, we sort of debated what the different kinds of love were before our immaturity kicked in and we made it all dirty. One word for sleeping with someone you only kind of like, another for sleeping with a friend or family member.” Bradley’s chest rumbled with laughter. “Man, we were so dumb. Eventually we started talking about how bad we wanted to get laid. I don’t remember how we got there exactly, but I told Scott he could blow me. I said it like an insult, but it was totally an invitation, too.”
Joey pushed himself up on one elbow so he could watch Bradley’s face as he told the rest of the story. “Then what?”
“Then he dared me to whip it out.” Bradley grinned. “I have nothing to be ashamed of, so I did. He fell right down on his knees and went to work. That was my first time. I mean, I’d been with girls, but who counts that?”
Joey laughed and reached down, not at all surprised to find that Bradley was hard again. “So I’m guessing you studied a lot of Spanish together from then on.”
“Yeah! Every opportunity we got. We never made a big deal out of it or put a label on anything. I think we were both worried about scaring the other one off.”
“So did you ever tell him?”
“What?”
“Te amo.”
Bradley’s ox chest rose and sank again. “No. I went off to college in Michigan, and he was still a couple of years behind, so there wasn’t any way we could really be together. I met my first boyfriend pretty soon after that, and I knew I could be open with him, so I sort of lost myself in that relationship. Never stopped thinking about Scott, though. It’s messed up how we lost touch. We were close.”
“You could always look him up again.”
“Nah, I’m sure he’s moved on. Probably has someone by now.”
Bradley chewed his lip, and Joey let him dream of the past for a while before he got bored. He turned Bradley’s head toward his and kissed him, but it wasn’t the same as before. The big guy’s heart just wasn’t in it anymore, which was fine. Joey wasn’t the sort for puppy dog crushes, and if he had a jealous bone in his body, he hadn’t found it yet.
Instead he found himself fascinated by the hold this Scott Hammond still had on Bradley after all these years. Maybe that’s what love was like. So far the emotion had escaped Joey. He loved the thrill of the hunt, and he couldn’t get enough sex, but he had yet to meet the right person to keep him allured physically and engaged intellectually. That Scott Hammond still haunted someone as smoking hot as Bradley was interesting. Maybe he was different from the others.
* * * * *
“Honey, I’m home!”
Joey always said this when he came home, and his mom always laughed as if it were still funny. He could smell something being fried, probably grilled cheese, and his stomach rumbled in response. After checking his hair in the hallway mirror, he ran into the kitchen to find that his nose had been right, with the added bonus of tomato soup.
“Just in time for lunch,” his mom said with her back toward him. “Where were you? It’s not like you to go out so early.”
When he didn’t answer right away she turned around, her brown eyes reading him like no one else could. “Joey!” she said. “I can’t believe you!”
“What?” Joey laughed as he took a seat.
“You know what!”
She didn’t say anything more until the steaming food was on the table and she was sitting across from him. She blew a strand of dark hair out of her face and considered him again. “Your father would be spinning in his grave if he knew what you got up to.”
“He’s not dead, so stop talking about him that way,” Joey said.
“He might as well be dead, considering how little support he pays. Who was it this time?”
Joey dunked a corner of his grilled cheese in the soup. “Just some guy,” he said before taking a bite.
“Some guy you’ll never see again or bring around the house?”
He shrugged.
“You know I want better for you,” his mother continued, her food forgotten. “If you would just slow down and let people get to know you, then I have no doubt that they would fall in love with you. You’re turning seventeen in a few months, and you’ve never had a boyfriend or been on a date. Does that sound right to you?”
“Plenty of people my age have never had a boyfriend. Besides, I leave all the dating to you.” His mom was always looking for Mr. Right, and had left behind a long line of boyfriends in her quest. While he admired her persistence, he didn’t find the game at all appealing. Except the way Bradley had described it had been kind of charming. “Speaking of which, what happened with that mechanic you went to dinner with. Any potential?”
His mom smiled and took the bait. For the rest of lunch, she focused on her own love life instead of Joey’s. He scarfed his meal and promised her that he would do the dishes right after he checked his email. The truth was, he had some cyberstalking to do. He took the stairs two at a time as he ran to his room and booted up his computer.
Online social networking was a funny thing. At some point in history, society had decided it was perfectly acceptable to throw open the doors on privacy and tell the world absolutely everything that you were doing, from the mundane to the miraculous. More often than not, the information shared was trivial, but at times it could be useful.
