by Plakcy, Neil
“Where’s the jefe?” Camilo asked. “His car is here, but I don’t see him.”
“He had an accident last night,” I said. “Twisted his ankle when he was running. I had to drive him to the hospital and then home. He’s probably still knocked out.”
“Not completely.”
We all turned to see Walter in the doorway of the conference room. His hair was damp, and he was leaning on an elaborately carved wooden cane for support. I noticed that he was wearing his running shoes, with the right one unlaced, and under his pants leg I could make out the splint.
“Let’s make this quick,” Walter said, hobbling into the room. Adrian jumped up and offered him the chair closest to the door. Walter sank into it gratefully. Camilo passed him a cup of Cuban coffee, which Walter drank in one gulp.
We went around the table quickly. When we were finished, Walter said, “If I sound fuzzy, blame the painkillers. But I know I can count on you all to pick up the slack.” He turned to me. “Manny, I’m going to need your help to get around for a few days. Stay here for a few minutes, will you?”
“Sure, Walter.”
The rest of the guys filtered out. When we were alone, Walter said, “I appreciate what you did for me last night, even if I wasn’t gracious enough about it. The more I get to know you, the more I see what a good person you are.” He blew a breath out between his lips. “I need to get myself out of the mess I’m in with Dolores and her father. But as much as I can, I’m going to make you understand how I feel.”
“I already know,” I said.
“Then I can get to work.” He stood up without any help, grabbed his cane, and hobbled down the hall to his office.
I went back to my office and checked the schedule. Camilo had mentioned that the footers for warehouse four were due to be poured, and I wanted to make sure they were on target. I found him talking to Demetrio, the concrete superintendent.
I waited until they were done and Camilo approached me. “So, you were with the jefe last night.” He put his arm around my shoulder and steered me away from the building. The pressure was uncomfortable, but I wasn’t going to show him any weakness.
“Yeah, I was still working when he came back to the trailer after he hurt his ankle. There was nobody else around.”
“Convenient for you,” he said as we walked.
“What do you mean?”
He squeezed my shoulder hard. For a slim, wiry guy he had a lot of strength in his hand, and I struggled not to wince. “The jefe is not a maricón,” he said in a low voice. “You keep your hands off him.”
I pulled away from his grasp. There was no way Camilo could have known what had happened the night before, though he had a good enough imagination. “You’ve got a dirty mind, Camilo. All I did was drive Walter to the hospital, then back to his house. I may be gay, but I don’t have sex on my mind all the time.”
“I’m watching you, Manuelito,” he said. “You keep your filthy hands to yourself.”
I walked back to the trailer. What kind of twisted thing did Camilo have going on in his head? He was perceptive; I had done a lousy job of keeping my crush on Walter secret. But what made him think Walter would respond to me? And why the fuck was it his business to keep Walter away from me?
After our lunch meeting, Walter followed me to my office and closed the door. “I spoke to Dolores this morning,” he said. “I asked her to let me move back into our house until my ankle is strong enough that I can drive. I told her I’d need her to drive me to and from work.”
That would make Camilo happy, I thought. “I understand completely,” I said.
There was a glint in Walter’s eyes that I didn’t get. “No, you don’t. You’ve never been married, and you’ve never started divorce proceedings.”
He sat back in the chair across from my desk. “Dolores said that I was no longer welcome in her house. That if I needed some help, I ought to hire it.”
“What a bitch. Sorry, I realize she’s still technically your wife. But that’s mean.” I remembered her visit to the site the week before. “I thought she wanted to get back together with you.”
“Not after I shut her down the last time. I asked her where I was supposed to get the money to pay someone, when every penny I have is tied up in this project or going to pay her bills. She suggested in rather unkind terms that I force one of my employees to take care of me.”
I laughed. “You were worried she had someone spying on you. Now you’ve given her an explanation if I come over to your house.”
“More than just come over,” he said. “I said I needed someone to live with me for a week or two, and I only had one employee who was single and free. She said, ‘Then get him to be your nursemaid, because I’m sure as hell not doing it.’”
“You’re a very smart man, Mr. Loredo.”
“You bet.” He leaned forward. “And I’ve got a whole lot of horny stored up for you.”
I felt myself flush, and Walter laughed at my discomfort. “You think you’re the only one who can dish it out, Mr. Sexy Hips? You’ll see what I’ve got waiting for you.”
He stood up. “I can see this ankle’s going to be bothering me for a while.” He winked at me and walked out.
Late in the afternoon, he called me out to Estefani’s desk. “Manny, I want you to drive your car over to my house and leave it in the guest parking area. Estefani knows the way. She’s been there a few times. You can follow her, and she can bring you back here. If you’re going to drive me around, we’ll be more comfortable in my car.”
“Sure, boss,” I said. I followed Estefani’s car to Walter’s place, though I could have found my way on my own by then. After I parked, I slipped into the seat next to her and strapped myself in.
“This is really nice of you, to take care of Walter,” she said as she turned her car around. “He’s such a sweetheart, and his wife is a real ogre.”
“Ogress,” I said. “Like in Shrek? Shrek is an ogre and Fiona is an ogress.”
“Whatever. It is so mean of her not to let him go back to their house.” Her fancy manicure, bright red nails with rhinestones, glinted as she gripped the steering wheel. “I’ve been with Walter for two years, since back when he had an office in the Gables and he was trying to raise the money for this project. She used to come by and meet him for lunch sometimes.”
“What’s she like?” I tried to make sure my voice was casual, almost disinterested.
“Typical Cuban princess. Her daddy owns a manufacturing company and spoiled her rotten. I never saw her when she wasn’t wearing some designer clothes, loaded down with jewelry, and made up like a model. Always a snotty attitude, like her shit didn’t smell.”
“I wonder what Walter saw in her.”
“She is pretty,” Estefani admitted, turning neatly back onto Kendall Drive. “I’ll give her that. And Walter never had eyes for any other girl. Still doesn’t.” She sighed, and we drove the rest of the way in silence.
When we got to the trailer, I thanked her and went back to my office. Around five thirty, Walter came to my office door. “No more running for me for a while,” he said. “You ready to head out of here? I figured we’d go over to the Beach. You probably need to get some clothes. And I’m curious to see this fabulous apartment where you live.”
“Oh, um, sure.” That’s when it really sank in—I was going to be living with Walter. As in sharing his townhouse. And his bed.
I must have shown how happy I felt because Walter looked at me and laughed. When we walked out of the trailer, I scanned the lot for Camilo’s car. Already gone. That meant I didn’t have to worry about putting my arm around Walter’s shoulder as I helped him ease into the passenger seat.
It was slow going from the site to the highway, where three solid lanes of cars, trucks, and vans crept eastward. “I don’t usually leave this early,” I said. “I didn’t realize the traffic was so bad.”
“No rush,” Walter said, leaning back. His car drove so smoothly you couldn’t
feel any of the road’s roughness, and the seats were plush leather.
We drove for a little while, and then I said, “Please don’t think I’m pushing you, Walter, but I’d just like to get an idea of the timetable here. When do you think your divorce is going to be final?”
“Not until the warehouses are finished and I’ve paid off Heriberto’s loan,” he said. “Sorry, but that’s the way it’s going to play out. I won’t be able to get rid of Dolores until I get rid of her father.”
“He doesn’t want the two of you to divorce?” I asked.
“He wants what Dolores wants, and I can’t blame him for that. The problem is that Dolores doesn’t really know what she wants. One day she’s sashaying into my office shaking her booty, and the next she’s telling me to go F myself. Once the project is finished and I’ve paid him off, I’ll tell her that I’m gay and that there will never be a future for us, regardless of whatever little fantasies she has in her head.”
I didn’t look at him. “And you can’t do that now?”
“I can’t. She’d go crazy, and force Heriberto to demand his money right now. I don’t have it, and I can’t get it, in this economy. So I’d have to file for bankruptcy and everything would go down the toilet.”
We were both quiet until I turned off the causeway, into a neighborhood of low-rise buildings. Almost every one was either under construction or recently rehabbed. The street was crowded with Dumpsters and pickups. “Great neighborhood,” Walter said, looking around. “Lots of opportunities here.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty cool,” I said. “We’re lucky to have scored this apartment.”
The unit where my roommates and I lived came with two parking spaces in the garage, and I pulled into the one I used, then walked slowly to the elevator with Walter. He was leaning heavily on the cane, and I hovered around him in case he fell.
I slid my key card into the reader and punched in our floor. The elevator doors opened onto the small, carpeted lobby, and I led Walter into our apartment. “What a view,” he said, walking through the living room to the balcony.
“Yeah, it’s pretty awesome,” I said. “The units with ocean views are more expensive, but I like this better. You can see all the islands in the bay and the sunset reflecting off the towers downtown.”
Neither of my roommates were there, and I was relieved; I didn’t want to have to explain what was going on to them. I figured I’d just leave them a note.
I led Walter down the hall to my bedroom. The beige lacquer bed frame and matching dresser and nightstands were bland and institutional, and I was embarrassed that I hadn’t made my bed that morning.
“Nice,” he said. “Came furnished?”
“Yeah. Not my taste, but we’re trying not to trash the place.”
He settled down on my bed while I dug around for some clothes. I piled my Loredo shirts, boxers, jeans, and khakis on the bed next to him, then went to the bathroom to collect my toiletries.
When I returned, Walter was standing next to the bed, balancing on his cane, with my underwear drawer open. “You’re leaving all the best stuff behind,” he said, holding up a very skimpy pair of bikini briefs.
“Would you rather see me in my underwear or out of it?” I asked.
“I’d like to see you in these.” He held up a red satin jockstrap with the pouch in the shape of an elephant’s trunk, with googly eyes on either side of the long satin tube.
“Well, I’d hate to disappoint you.” I reached out for it.
“How about now?” he asked.
“You want me to put it on now?”
“We don’t have anything else to do this evening, do we?” His eyes glinted mischievously.
“You’re not going to turn into some kind of elderly sex machine, are you, Walter? Do I have to worry about you gobbling Viagra with your pain pills?”
His mouth dropped open. “I’m thirty-two years old, you little tease. I’ve never needed Viagra in my life. Not even with Dolores.”
There was a real dick-wilter, I thought. Bringing up the wife. But at least she was on her way out of the picture.
“Fine,” I said.
Walter leaned against the bureau as I untied my Docs and kicked them off, then pulled off my shirt and dropped my trousers and boxers. Naked, I reached for the elephant jock and stepped into it. I slipped my dick into the trunk and adjusted the straps over my ass.
Then I stalked across the room like a rooster, thrusting my hips forward so that the satin tube bounced up and down. Walter grabbed for me, and I slipped away. I ran out to the living room, and he hobbled after me with his cane. I waited for him in front of the sliding glass doors to the balcony, my dick hard and my hands on my ass.
The front door opened and Larry walked in. “Jesus, Manny, you never heard of putting a tie on the doorknob or something?”
I must have turned as red as the satin jockstrap. “Sorry!” I scrambled past him and Walter and back toward my room.
“I’m Walter,” I heard him say. “Pleased to meet you.”
“I’m Larry. Are you the—”
“Walter!” I called from my bedroom. “I’m waiting.”
“Probably,” Walter said.
He came back into the bedroom as I was pulling my pants on. “Don’t do that, Manny,” he said. “I was enjoying the view.”
I glared at him, but the hangdog look in his eyes was too much. I slipped the pants back down and said, “Is that all you want to do? Enjoy the view?”
“I want to do a lot more than that.” He knocked my bedroom door closed with his cane and opened his arms to me.
Never a Choirboy
I wanted to jump Walter, but I had to be careful of his bad ankle. So I leaned carefully into his embrace, offering my nearly naked body up to him, and we kissed. After a moment, he pulled back. “You know, you’re the first man I have ever kissed.”
“Really? Never kissed Chucho?”
“I tried once, but he pushed me away. Said that kissing was for maricóns.”
“And dick-sucking wasn’t?”
“Not in Chucho’s world.”
I began to unbutton his shirt. “Was he the first person you had sex with?”
“I was never a choirboy. I had sex for the first time with a girl when I was sixteen.”
“And a boy?”
“Depends on what you mean by sex. When I was fourteen and fifteen a couple of guys and I used to get together for circle jerks. But we never touched each other.”
I slipped the shirt off his shoulders. “And then?”
“You met Sal at the trailer, didn’t you?”
“Sal the banker?” I helped Walter sit down on the side of my bed and knelt down to slip off his expensive loafers.
He nodded. “Salvador Remedios. We went to this camp together, outside Ocala, when we were fifteen.”
I slipped his loafers off and ran my hands over his sock-covered feet, being very careful with the sprained ankle. “Oh, man,” he said. “That feels good.”
“So you and Sal, at camp,” I said as I slipped off his socks.
“We were both so horny,” he said. “You remember what fifteen was like, don’t you? Constant hard-ons and the only relief was your hand.”
“I volunteered to help my mom with laundry,” I said. “Because I started humping my mattress and I didn’t want her to see the messy sheets.”
He laughed. “I’ll bet you were a very naughty boy.”
I leaned over to kiss him. “Not half as naughty as I am now.” I unbuckled his belt, and he shivered with anticipation. Then I rolled his pant leg up and unhooked the ankle brace. When I stood up again, I said, “Lift your hips.”
He steadied himself on the bed with his hands and lifted his butt. I slipped his slacks down, careful as I tugged the fabric past his bad ankle.
I was still on my knees in front of him. I leaned down to lick his stiff dick through his shorts. He groaned again and ran his fingers through my hair.
I pulled back. “D
on’t stop the story. I want to hear all about you and Sal.”
“It wasn’t exactly the stuff of porn movies,” he said. “It was a Jesuit camp and very Spartan. Six bunks in our cabin, and the other four guys were headed for seminary.”
“No circle jerks after hours?” I asked. The pouch of his shorts was slick with my spit and his precum.
“No way. Sal and I snuck away one day when the other guys were at an orientation to monastic life. When we got to a clearing in the woods, I asked if he wanted to beat off.”
I tugged at the waistband of Walter’s briefs, and once again he lifted his body so I could slide them down. His stiff dick stood up once it was free of the fabric. It was beautiful—long and slim and well-formed, with a prominent vein down the center and a perfect mushroom cap.
“Go on,” I said as I swiped my tongue down Walter’s dick.
His dick throbbed, and he sighed with pleasure. “He said hell, yeah, and we opened up our shorts and pulled our dicks out. We sat down on the grass next to each other and started fisting ourselves.”
I wrapped my hand around his dick and started rubbing it up and down. “Like this?”
“Oh yeah; only it’s so much better when someone else does it,” he said.
“Who made the first move?” I asked, looking up at him. “You or Sal?”
He smiled, and there was a devilish gleam in his eyes. “Who do you think?”
“I think you were a horny bastard at fifteen, so you reached over to him first.”
“You’re wrong, then.” He leaned back on his hands and watched me work his dick. “Sal said, ‘You want to touch mine?’ and I reached over and grabbed myself a handful.”
“Like I said, you were a horny bastard.”
“I still am,” Walter said.
I was still wearing the elephant jock, though my precum had soaked through the fabric. I stood up and slipped it off. “Me too,” I said. “Let’s lie down together.”
I carefully lifted his legs as he turned sideways. As he rested against the pillows, I scrambled onto the bed next to him. “What was it like?” I asked. “Having another boy’s dick in your hand for the first time?”
