Golden Boy Two-Volume Set

by Claire Thompson

  “Oh no you don’t, buddy! You’re not getting out of it that easy. It’s only four-thirty, anyway. You can take the subway instead of walking and still be there in plenty of time if you leave at five. Don’t give me that crap. I know where you live.” She laughed and Johnny grinned sheepishly back at her.

  “Okay, okay, fair’s fair, I guess,” Johnny said, admitting defeat. “But my story isn’t very interesting. No trauma, no fireworks. Not much of anything really, if you want to know.”

  “No, the first time is always special, even if it sucks. And it usually sucks. It’s a rite of passage. It’s important because it’s a first. It’s a beginning—one way of marking your entrance into the adult world.”

  “Aren’t we the philosopher all of the sudden,” Johnny said lightly.

  “No, it isn’t sudden.” Amanda lifted her chin haughtily and then laughed. “Now, get on with it. Spill your guts. Share with your best girl. First question—was it with a guy or a girl.”

  “Amanda!” Johnny was shocked, but then grinned, realizing she must be kidding. As she tapped her foot in an exaggerated gesture of impatience he said, “Okay. Her name was Mary Ann Schmidt and she was the prettiest little thing in twelfth grade. She was petite, like barely five feet, but she was very athletic and strong. She was super quiet and I really liked her because she didn’t have her nose in the air or strut around the hallways like so many of the girls did, looking down at any guy who wasn’t an athlete or president of the student council.

  “We both ran track at the time, and I’d see her a lot after school running. We got friendly and I guess we sort of started going out, at least she told her friends we were going out, and she would call me on the phone and stuff, so I guess we were. It wasn’t as fun once we were officially dating. I mean, she wasn’t as easy to be around. Things started to matter too much, if you know what I mean. She expected stuff. She wanted me to take her to the prom and stuff like that.”

  “Did you?”

  “Well sure. I had to take someone, didn’t I? At least she liked me. Anyway, that’s when it happened.”

  “After the prom? Typical.” Amanda nodded knowingly. Johnny knew she hadn’t gone to the prom, knew she wouldn’t have been caught dead going to a prom, but for Johnny, it had never occurred to him this was even an option. He had always done what was expected of him, at home and in school, and now in his work and his whole dreary life.

  Sighing a little he went on. “Yeah, I guess. A couple of kids had actually gotten hotel rooms for after the party. One of them was Mary Ann’s cousin’s boyfriend Larry. He told us we could have the room after he and Paige, Mary Ann’s cousin, were ‘done’ with it.”

  “Eww,” Amanda interjected. “Nasty, sticky boy come all over the sheets!”

  Johnny blushed a little and said, “Shut up. Anyway. Mary Ann had been hinting for a while she thought it was high time we had sex. She didn’t say that. She said, ‘make love’. I mean, we’d been kissing and stuff, and I’d feel her up in the car, but she obviously wanted more.”

  “Obviously,” Amanda said, staring pointedly at Johnny’s crotch. He threw the couch cushion at her.

  “I remember her saying, ‘We’re seventeen years old, Johnny Wilson. We’ll never be this young and free again. This is the best time of our lives.’”

  “Jesus,” Amanda interjected. “Thank god she was wrong!”

  Johnny laughed. “Quit interrupting. I’m trying to tell you about my first time.”

  “Okay, sorry,” Amanda said. “Let’s hear how Johnny boy lost his cherry.”

  Johnny glared at her a moment and then continued. “Well, my parents thought I was going to the predawn breakfast thing arranged by our church for after the prom, so they were blissfully unaware of what their boy was doing. Since Paige had to be home earlier than we did, we decided to take Larry up on his generous offer, though I had to give him twenty bucks for it. But anyway, we went to the room. I remember it was a pretty crummy little dump with bare brick walls and an old sagging bed, but I don’t think most people who came there came for the décor.

  “She went in the bathroom and took off her prom gown and came out in this little negligee thing. I took off my hideous powder blue rented tuxedo and we, uh, did it.” He looked at Amanda and then at his watch.

  “Oh, come on,” Amanda persisted. “You can do better than that! Details, J. I want details.”

  “Jeez, Amanda, why do you want to hear this?”

  “Hey, fair’s fair. And anyway, best friends share their secrets, right?” She smiled at Johnny, and he felt his heart warm with affection.

  “Okay. Well, um—” Johnny looked out the window again “—she was scared and I was nervous. She had this sponge thingy for birth control she stuck up in herself and then she spread her legs and said to go ahead. I had no idea what I was doing. I kissed her and stuff, and rubbed my cock on her thigh till I was hard enough. I couldn’t get it in at first. I was afraid of hurting her.” He turned helplessly toward Amanda.

  “But you did?”

  “Yeah, eventually. I had to go real slow because she kept saying I was hurting her. It wasn’t the sexiest scenario in the world for maintaining an erection.” He grinned, and Amanda wrinkled her nose. “I did finally manage to, uh, penetrate. She kind of moaned and stuff and I came inside of her and that was that, I guess.”

  “So yours was about as romantic as mine, huh?” Amanda grinned.

  “I told you it wasn’t very sexy. Somehow it never is.”

  “What never is?”

  Johnny stood up. “Look, I really do have to go. Don’t forget we’re going to the movies next Wednesday. Say hi to Marlon for me.” Before she could answer, Johnny was out the door.

  ~*~

  Johnny stared unseeingly out the window into the darkness of the subway tunnel as he was hurtled toward his parents’ neighborhood. He hadn’t thought about Mary Ann Schmidt in years. Or that terrible first time. He guessed in retrospect it hadn’t been that bad. Amanda was right—the first time usually sucked because neither person knew what they were doing.

  What really troubled Johnny was the realization sex had never been that great. He knew he was good-looking, he knew girls found him sexy and desirable, but somehow, the experience always left him flat and lonely. As if something were missing.

  Was it just that he hadn’t found the right woman? Did the right woman exist for him? What was wrong with him? Both his brothers seemed happy enough with their wives. Even his mom and dad, for all that his dad was a bully sometimes, seemed to have some kind of physical affection for one another. They still hugged and exchanged a kiss when he left for the garage each day and when he returned at night.

  Was Johnny himself the problem? Was he broken somehow? Less than a man? He’d had three girlfriends since Mary Ann, and casually dated from time to time in between. But not once had his heart pounded with passion, like in the classic novels he’d read in the library, or even the romance novels in the book aisle at the supermarket. Not once had he pined for a woman, dreamed of her, plotted ways to make her his own.

  Was he just a cold person? Two of his girlfriends had said he was. He didn’t feel cold. He thought of his nieces and nephews and smiled. He knew he would die for each and every one of them, and for his mom and for Billy too, if it came down to it. And even for Amanda. Maybe especially for Amanda.

  Yet he didn’t feel the romance. In fact, maybe he had only allowed himself to get so close to Amanda precisely because she was no threat. She wouldn’t pressure him to get sexual with her. He was safe with her, quite literally. So that was the crux—sex.

  And yet, Johnny liked sex. At least he liked to come. His own right hand was his best lover, he supposed, smiling a little ruefully into the dark. Was sex with other people just vastly overrated? Somehow, he doubted it. Books, movies, even his friends—they all talked about “true love” and the earth moving during sex when the match was right. No, the problem must lie with him. He had a problem. But he had to de
fine it before he could solve it.

  ~*~

  “Hey, J!” Amanda said breathlessly into the phone. Johnny smiled. He liked how Amanda called him “J” sometimes. It made him feel special, like she knew him in a way no one else did. “Marlon wants to take me to this cool club. It’s called DeSoto’s and it’s like impossible to get into without knowing someone. She met this hot chick at her club who gave her three invitations for tonight! Marlon’s off work so we’re going and I thought maybe you’d like to go too? I know you’ve been in such a funk lately. It would be fun! You could watch us dykes and faggots and have a good old time.” She laughed and continued. “You could wear those black jeans you have that make even me want to fondle that hot little package of yours. What do you say? Wanna go? It’s super hot, the hottest spot going in Manhattan right now for those in the know.”

  Johnny looked around his efficiency apartment, with its futon couch, which also served as his bed, its kitchenette and the tiny bathroom opening off the single room. He glanced at the DVD he’d rented, some action flick that offered the promise of a little diversion for a few hours.

  A gay bar? Why not? Something different at any rate. His family would die if they knew he was going. Well, why shouldn’t he go? It was a free country and he was a grown man. He could go where he wanted when he wanted and it was nobody’s business but his own.

  “Sure,” he said. “I’ll wear those jeans and make all the queers drool.”

  “That’s the spirit! Meet us here and we’ll go together into the city.”

  ~*~

  DeSoto’s was dark and crowded, the walls painted red, the place screaming sex and who knew what else. The music was jazzy and subdued and incense was burning, giving Johnny a slight headache.

  Amanda was dressed in white, a sexy little dress that was rare for her, as she usually wore long, loose clothing that obscured her figure. Tonight her small breasts were clearly outlined against the clinging fabric. She looked delicate and feminine next to her lover, dressed in a black pantsuit, with a dark purple vest. Marlon was big-boned and tall and despite her mannish haircut and masculine style, she also looked amazingly hot. She had her arm protectively around Amanda, who snuggled up into her shoulder.

  “You’re looking good tonight, Johnny,” Marlon said in a low whiskey voice. “The guys will eat you alive if you let them.” She winked conspiratorially. Johnny was wearing his black jeans, which were cut close to his body, showing the muscular curve of his buttocks and the bulge between his legs, drawing the eye down long, strong legs encased in black denim. He wore black work boots and a white T-shirt of thick, fine cotton that hugged the rounded muscles in his shoulders and chest.

  They were seated around a high table on tall stools, each nursing a beer. Johnny felt at once nervous and excited. Just the act of being in such a taboo place felt thrilling, almost dangerous. He was hyperaware of the men and women near them, his senses alert, on the ready for something unexpected.

  “Marlon! That you, girl?” The voice was definitely male but the last few words came out so high as to be almost a squeal. A tall, thin man with bright orange hair cut very short appeared at their table.

  “Ginger! Where you been hanging? I haven’t seen you at my club in ages.”

  “Oh,” Ginger said, as he squeezed himself between Marlon and Amanda so he faced Johnny. Johnny saw his pierced ear, a silver earring hanging down in the shape of a handcuff. Ginger was dressed in a black leather vest unzipped midway at his smooth, pale chest. He wore matching black leather pants so tight they could have been painted on. “Eric and I have been hanging at Cavern. It is so hot. Oh. My. God. You would not believe what goes on there. Eric is my dangerous, sexy man. He makes me do all sorts of naughty things when we’re there. I just blush to think about it, much less say it out loud.”

  While Johnny stared, Ginger threw back his head and laughed, the sound tinkling down a scale as if he’d practiced it for perfect pitch. Ginger didn’t act embarrassed about whatever it was this Eric person was “making” him do at Cavern, whatever that was.

  Sobering, Ginger tilted his head slightly, appraising Johnny. “And who is this gorgeous creature you’ve brought along tonight? And where”—he now addressed Johnny directly—“have you been hiding all my life?”

  Johnny felt his face heat. He began to stammer something inane. Amanda came to his rescue. “Ginger Crane. Meet Johnny Wilson. Johnny, meet Ginger. Ginger is what you’d call a flaming queen. He’s Eric Méndez’s latest little pet.”

  Instead of being insulted at this description, as Johnny would have expected, Ginger just laughed. He extended his hand and Johnny automatically extended his own. As they shook, Johnny noted Ginger’s grip was firm, and he realized he’d expected some kind of limp-wristed offering.

  “Pleased to meet you,” Ginger said. “I know Manhattan is huge, but this community of ours is fairly small. Why haven’t I seen you around before?”

  “Oh,” again Amanda interceded. Johnny still hadn’t said a word. “Johnny’s new to the scene. Just an observer at the moment.”

  “Oh, is he? An observer, hmm? Checking out the wild side? Stepping out from your humdrum little world to gaggle at the faggots?” Ginger’s expression had become a sneer.

  Johnny felt the heat spreading down his throat, his gut clenching. He started to protest, though what Ginger said was largely true. Again Amanda spoke before he could. “Shut up, Ginger. Give a guy a break, huh? Where are your manners anyway?”

  But Ginger had already turned away. “Oh, there’s Eric. My Master won’t like to see me flirting with a sweet little thing like you, Johnny.” His tone was sarcastic, though it didn’t stop him from licking his lips as he looked Johnny up and down. “At least not without his express permission. Ta-ta! Later, Marlon darling. Bye, Amanda.”

  Ginger whirled away from them as Johnny stared after him. “What did you mean by, ‘at the moment’, Amanda? And what did he mean by his master? Last I checked, this was a free country, no slaves allowed.”

  “Oh don’t act so naïve, Johnny cakes,” Marlon interjected. “He was talking about D/s. You know, dominance and submission. BDSM. Bondage, sadomasochism. Surely you’ve heard of it, even a prudish, repressed, sheltered Brooklynite like yourself.”

  Johnny pursed his lips with indignation. Who was this dyke to call him prude and repressed? Wasn’t he here in a gay bar with two lesbians, for heaven’s sake? He felt confused and agitated. Sadomasochism? Whips and chains? Masters and slaves? Johnny’s mouth felt dry and he was lightheaded. It must be the beer—he must be a little drunk.

  But his body said otherwise. He felt his cock rising, pressing against the zipper of his jeans. The words bondage, submission, master, slave…somehow, they had bypassed his careful, controlled thoughts and moved right to his cock and balls. He was responding physically to something he rarely dared imagine and certainly had never voiced, not even to himself.

  Alone in the dark, his right hand massaging his erect shaft, his balls cradled in the left, his eyes closed, images would sometimes flit through Johnny’s head. Half articulated thoughts, pictures, ideas…himself naked and chained, a whip striking him from behind, the hand wielding it distinctly masculine, the fingers long and strong wrapped around a leather handle…

  “Johnny, you okay?” Amanda leaned over the small table, putting her hand over Johnny’s. “You look flushed and sweaty. It is kind of hot in here. You want to go outside a few minutes and get some air?”

  “I don’t know.” Johnny took a deep breath. “I’m okay, I think. Maybe I had too much to drink.” He spoke uncertainly. He felt something like fear prickling along the back of his neck. He felt as if he were on dangerous ground, but he didn’t yet understand where the danger lay.

  “I think that’s a good idea, Mandy. Why don’t you take our boy outside to the courtyard? That way you can get back inside without having to stand in line again. I see some friends I want to say hi to. We’ll meet back at the bar in a bit, okay?” She bent dow
n, lightly kissing Amanda’s lips.

  Amanda nodded and stood too. “Come on, Johnny. Let’s get some air.” Johnny followed his friend out to a long, narrow courtyard lined with trees hung with little white lights that sparkled like stars. Small wrought iron tables were set about, all of them occupied. People also stood along the walls of the courtyard, which was actually just the narrow space between two buildings. Almost everyone was smoking, as no smoking was allowed in the bar.

  Amanda found a space for them against the brick façade of the building. Johnny felt his head clearing. Whatever strange thing had taken hold of him in there was letting him be, at least for the moment. They stood quietly together, watching the crowd of people milling around them. Amanda began her usual game of describing the life story of various individuals.

  “See that guy there? He’s married and a traffic court judge by day, but by night he comes here, cruising for hot guys who will let him suck them off in the alley or the men’s bathroom.” Johnny looked to see who she was talking about. The man in question was about fifty-five, with gray hair worn a little too long. He was wearing a button-down shirt, unbuttoned to his belly, revealing several thick gold chains nestled in a thicket of curling gray chest hair.

  The man he was talking to was small and dark, and seemed to be earnestly interested in whatever the man was saying. “That’s his personal valet Juan. He scopes out the bars and clubs for our hero, offering young boys money to let his boss suck them off. He gets a commission, of course. Wifey thinks they’re out buying hardware at the home improvement store or attending Rotary Club meetings or whatever it is men like him do.”

  Johnny laughed. He took a long drink of his beer. “This is quite a scene, Amanda. What makes this particular club so exclusive? Doesn’t seem all that different from the bars I go to, except here the girls like the girls and the boys like the boys.”

  “Oh nothing really. Just that it’s the hot spot for this month. So all the coolest types hang here. Next month it will be somewhere else and DeSoto’s will be passé.”