With two white shirts and a couple of light blue ones (Timmy had ties I could use), we happily left the store.
“Come back quickly,” said a merry Philip. “We’ll have a new order in about a week’s time.” We waved goodbye through the window and we walked home to 85th Street.
“I thought I’d be wearing one of yours,” I said as we went in the building and climbed the stairs.
“Today’s rush put a damper on that. But it’s a new job, demands a new suit,” he smiled and opened the apartment door. In an instant, with the door shutting behind us, we both were on each other. He was pushing me toward the bedroom as we struggled out of our clothes and pressed our nakedness into each other. I lay back onto the bed and he jumped on next to me, on his hands and knees, licking my cock and fondling my balls. I shot my jism first, thick heady scum shooting onto his forehead and eyelids, and dripping past his nose. I didn’t hesitate. I kissed him, smearing my face in my own scum. I wasn’t repelled but licked it up readily. In about two, three minutes he shot off but it was weak and tired, as if there was no appetite remaining. He shivered once or twice then collapsed on the bed. He was spent.
“I’m sorry,” he finally said, looking away.
I sat up. “Sorry about what?”
“That I take so long to ejaculate.”
“Oh, don’t be silly. ‘Oh, bosh,’ as you always say. I enjoyed sucking you that much longer and savoring every moment while I was doing it. Your cock is just ideal for that,” I winked and again kissed him.
When we finally broke I got out of bed and hung the suit up.
“You got Miss Terri very mad this afternoon,” I said. “Wonder what she’ll do?”
“Oh, bosh on them both, her and that slut Connie. She doesn’t know how to dress properly. Always wearing such out-of style clothes. It reminds me of what women wore in World War II. Simply ridiculous. Terri sets her up to look like that, like an old crone so that she won’t look more attractive than Terri. Holds her under lock and key, that’s what lesbians do.”
“But queers don’t?”
“Of course not, we’re more liberal in our manly view, while women are just plain women. They’re old fashioned, not worth a dime, if you ask me.”
I didn’t care for his judgmental, outdated view; I tried changing the subject.
“So you think nothing’s going to happen tomorrow?”
Timmy studied me.
“If anything does, they’ll both be booted out of Doubleday’s. You can be sure Mr. Simmons had a stern talk with Terri. She’ll be quiet after today’s debacle.”
I marveled. So Mr. Simmons was one of us, too, a queer. Small world, indeed. I beamed at Timmy.
He lay on the bed, nodding his head, and I kept getting harder looking at his half-stiff penis. I couldn’t help it, I went down on him, sucking his dick as if I had all the time in the world, drenching him in my saliva, savoring and salivating. He exploded; I moved off and got a beautiful but weak dollop right in my face. It was exquisitely divine! I loved his cum on me, rubbing it on my face and brow, smoothing it on my skin until it had vanished in my pores. Oh, God, what a beautiful man he was, and I loved him very deeply. We fell asleep holding each other.
Chapter 20 When I woke next morning, I felt edgy and tense. My nerves were shot. Nothing was going right. The new suit, which had seemed perfect the day before, now took on a shabby, drablooking appearance; in the suit I looked like a joke, a fake. Not a businessman but a fraud. Not a bookstore clerk but a stupid schoolkid entering kindergarten. Ready to be shamed and insulted at any moment.
“This is stupid,” I flared. “I don’t want to go.” I collapsed in a chair, rubbing my head and face.
“Oh, bosh, stop that. You have to go. This is what you’ve been dreaming of, being a bookstore clerk. Well, young man, that day is here! Hold your head high. Get up out of that chair. Don’t let your dreams fade like this. Be a man!”
I put my hands down, looking at him.
“But I still feel ridiculous.”
“Of course you do, you’re wearing new clothes and taking on a new role in your life. You’re not sure of yourself, but after you assist two or three customers it will all fall into place. Think of it, getting a book by Hemingway or Faulkner, Dostoyevsky or Tolstoy, or any other author. That’s what the customer is looking for, and you will be there to help them find it. It’s a marvelous feeling and, when you do that, you’ll know what you were meant to be in life, a bookstore clerk.”
He was right; that had been my dream ever since I’d started working in bookstores, and now it was going to come true. I was going to be just what I had always wanted to be, a bookstore clerk. I stood up.
“I’m ready. Let’s go.”
His eyes watered and he kissed me. I melted for a moment but gripped myself, and we happily went to the subway.
“Who is this bosh you always mention, some kind of God?” I asked.
He laughed.
“Just an expression. I don’t know when it came into use, the 1800s I suppose. It really means nonsense, or fiddlesticks, or it’s ridiculous. ‘Oh, bosh’ is a way of saying “get a hold of yourself,” you see?”
I reddened but whispered, “Or I’ll get a hold of you, instead,” I grinned. “‘Oh, bosh.’ I like that.”
He smiled but also reddened and cleared his throat; we got off the subway and walked to Doubleday’s. I felt proud but nervous, too.
In front of the store, I saw Danny smoking a cigarette and watching the people hurrying past. He stood there like always, which I’m sure meant he was feeling superior to everyone who walked by. I lowered my head but instantly Danny recognized me.
“Oh, Jesus, what a jerk, you look ridiculous!” He exploded in loud laughter and catcalls. “A real asshole is what you are. Who’s going to believe you’re a bookstore clerk, more like a bookstore jerk is what you are.”
Mr. Jennings was right in front of him.
“What do you mean by insulting our new bookstore clerk?” he flared back. “And out here in the open, too. This is certainly grounds for dismissal. You’ll find out in a few minutes what the management intends to do about this.”
He turned, pushing me toward the revolving door and following me. I looked back at Danny. He was biting his lower lip and watching us. What an asshole he could be, I thought and entered the revolving door.
Elderly Mrs. Petersen, another bookstore clerk, was right in front of us. She’d been associated with many 5th Avenue bookstores over the years, Brentano’s, Scribner’s, Marlboro’s, etc. Now she was in charge of the children’s section of Doubleday’s.
“My, my, don’t we look elegant,” she said, looking me up and down and squeezing my hand. “Knock ’em dead, fella,” and she winked at me.
I turned red.
“I will, Mrs. Petersen, I certainly will.”
We went up the front stairway to the paperback section on the second floor. From there I saw Danny come in and make his way back to the basement stairs. Timmy didn’t say anything, but I knew he would soon be going upstairs to discuss Danny’s intransigence. It was about time someone did something about him.
Connie was on the second floor, arranging a few books. She turned away as we approached. We came up to her.
“Billy will be starting this morning,” Timmy said. “Show him the ropes.” He looked at me and Connie, then turned and walked away. Connie made a face, sighed, and set her armful of books on a bookshelf.
“You’ll be in charge of fiction paperbacks,” she cleared her throat. “That’s toward the rear; non-fiction is kept at the front of the store, facing the avenue.”
We walked through the aisles and I saw a few clerks eyeing me curiously. Todd, a clerk who was a few years older than me, gripped my hand and said, “Welcome aboard, kiddo,” and he winked. “Just ignore the ones with bad mouths, they all have something negative to say. Do your job and to hell with the rest.”
But while he was talking to me, he was sneering directly at Connie
, who had her head down. I grinned and nodded at Todd. “Thanks, it’s good to be here.”
“Glad you got out of the basement,” he said and went back to getting his shelves in order.
Connie escorted me to the fiction paperback section.
“You’ll be working here. It will get busy by the late morning, but you can never tell. You have lunch at 12:30, half an hour, then at 3:00, another half an hour. Is that clear?”
I nodded and saw Miss Terri coming up the aisle. Connie turned from her and started to straighten some shelves.
“Your probation starts this morning,” a stern Miss Terri said. “You have four weeks to prove your worth and every little mistake will be noted down. Connie will keep her eyes on you, is that understood?”
I nodded. “Yes, ma’am,” I said, before I remembered that she bitterly disliked the term. A stern look swept over her face but she didn’t say anything. She turned and walked away. I looked at Connie. For the few moments that Miss Terri had been there, Connie had seemed frightened and unsure of herself, but once she’d gone, Connie’d breathed out, sort of a relief that nothing bad had happened. Connie was actually afraid of her, I realized. What kind of relationship were they in, anyway? I blinked at her.
“Walk through the aisles,” said Connie. “Familiarize yourself with where everything is. I’ll be close by.” And she walked back to the paperback non-fiction section. That bitch Miss Terri keeps the reins tight over her, I thought; I was certain of that. The store opened for the day.
Chapter 21 I heard the first customers come in and in a few moments some were climbing the stairs to the second floor. My instructions were not to hinder them, but just to be available should the need arise. I wore a name tag on my lapel which said “Doubleday’s,” with my name typed underneath. I steeled myself as the first customer hurried down the aisle. He said something to Connie, who pointed him in my direction.
“Where’s that book about airports by Joe Haley?” “You mean Airport by Arthur Hailey?” I asked. “Right there beside you.”
Row upon row of the best sellers were right beside him.
“Oh, yeah, here it is,” picking up the book, flipping a few pages. “Hey, thanks,” he said. “Pay here or downstairs?”
“Right this way, sir,” said Connie, appearing out of nowhere. “The cash register is right here,” and she led him to a register in the middle of the second floor.
I breathed out. Wow, my first customer! That was easy enough and seemed to go very well. I smiled. I saw Connie, who seemed to be smiling to herself.
I looked away and turned to a man roaming the aisles.
“Do you have the book Cocksure?” he blushed. “Can’t seem to find it…”
It rang a bell.
“That’s by the author, what was his name?” I said, trying to remember.
“Mordecai Richler.”
“That’s right, Mordecai Richler, should be right here.” We went to the R shelves to see if the book was there or out of stock.
“Let me call the stockroom, they might have a copy.” Interesting title, I was thinking, when Ramos picked up the phone downstairs.
“Stock,” he said.
“I need Cocksure by Mordecai Richler.” And I spelled the last name. “Do we have it?”
I could just imagine Ramos leering into the phone as I blushed and looked at the customer.
“Interesting title, don’t you think?” he said.
“Yeah, please just check the stock.”
“Writers will come up with anything,” I shrugged, waiting for Ramos to return, “just as long as they can sell their books.”
“Oh, are you a writer, too? I can imagine the charming stories you must write. Are they hard, you know, to write, those things?” and he blinked at me.
And just the way he spoke, putting an emphasis on the word hard, with his eyes fluttering, made me realize how easy and nice it was to be with people, especially queer people like him. I blinked my eyes and Ramos answered.
“Yes, baby, we have some cock for you, Cocksure coming up.” I could just imagine Ramos smiling, rubbing himself and thinking of me. I put the phone down and nodded at the customer.
“Should be right up,” I winked at him and he winked back at me.
“Lovely,” he said. “I like a little cock for breakfast, don’t you agree?” and he winked again. “Breakfast, supper, and dinner, makes my mouth water.” I was feeling myself growing hard; I blushed.
The dumbwaiter came up and I cleared my throat and retrieved the copy. It had an orange cover with a drawing of a rooster. I gave to him.
“Here you are, sir, Cocksure.”
He grabbed the book, holding it and caressing it, smiling at me all the time.
“Oh, I will be, you can be sure of that,” he said as he went to the cash register, still fluttering his eyelashes at me. Connie smirked but didn’t say anything; she was red with
embarrassment. I smiled to myself.
But every hour or so Timmy would come up for a moment to see how I was doing. I told him about the Cocksure customer.
“Yes, I know, he often comes here for a purchase, was downstairs loudly showing a copy off, simply repeating the title every chance he got.” He smiled and looked at me. “But you’re okay?” I nodded and went to assist another customer. He went back downstairs.
Near noontime Miss Terri stormed out of the elevator. She saw Connie chatting and smiling with another female customer. Their eyes met and in an instant her merriness changed into despair. Even the customer noticed the abrupt change and walked away, looking confused. Connie lowered her head and started aligning the shelved books. Miss Terri came up to her with her arms akimbo. I was too far to hear her, but Connie looked my way and said something to her. Miss Terri answered loudly.
“Oh, really? We’ll see about that.” She turned and stalked toward me. There was silence on the second floor. “Who gave you the right to sell that book?” she hissed. “It was being held for a special customer.” She stalked to the elevator and rang for it.
I cringed. What in the hell was she talking about, what book? Timmy came rushing up the stairs; Connie was running up behind him. I was stunned. Had she gone to get him? I saw Miss Terri’s lips purse; she also saw exactly what had occurred. Damn, Connie was going to get it, that’s for sure.
The elevator opened and Miss Terri stormed in, fuming and gesturing at Connie to follow her. Connie turned her head away and stood, looking at Timmy. The elevator closed its doors. We all heard, “Bitch!” through the shut doors.
Two other female clerks left their posts and came to us.
“Oh, Connie, are you all right?” asked one. She had her arm around Connie and was patting her shoulder.
“I never could see what you saw in her,” said the other. “She’s evil.”
Timmy and I drifted back to the fiction aisles.
“What book was she talking about,” I asked. “I sold ten or fifteen titles, and everyone seemed pleased.”
Timmy shrugged.
“Probably that Cocksure book, but who knows? I’m sure we’ll be hearing about that this afternoon.” He looked at his watch. “Take lunch now,” he nodded. “I’ll be on the floor.” It was almost 12:30. He pulled me to an empty aisle and held my hand. “You did marvelously. I’m proud of you.” And his mouth slightly opened to meet my lips but then he shook his head, whispered, “Later,” and went back downstairs. I saw Connie and the two bookstore clerks return to their positions. I went up to Connie, who looked very frightened.
“I’ll go and have lunch now, if that’s okay with you.”
As if coming to, Connie looked at me.
“Yes, go to lunch, half an hour, you have another break at three.”
I nodded and went to the back stairs, heading down to the basement.
I thought I’d catch Ramos—I knew he took lunch around that time. But I heard loud voices from below. It was Miss Terri screaming.
“You had no right; there was a Hold stick
er on it. You’re responsible.”
“Bullshit!” Ramos answered. “A Hold sticker holds the book for one week. The sticker was dated two weeks ago so I took it off and sent it up. It’s not my fault your customer came a week late.”
So they were talking about Cocksure, I grinned. He was right, absolutely goddamned right! One week for a Hold sticker, then the book went up for sale again. I could feel Miss Terri’s frustration but there was nothing she could do about it. I went down to the basement. Miss Terri looked like she wanted to spit on me but pounded back up the stairs.
Ramos saw me and did a double take.
“Eh, muchacho, just look at you.” He made me turn around and show the suit off to the other smiling stockroom boys. “Elegante,” he muttered in Spanish. “Very nice suit.” A few of the work crew looked, shrugged and went back to their jobs. I quickly noticed Danny was not around.
“You have lunch?” I asked Ramos.
He studied my face.
“You want to eat with me?”
“Why not, we can talk, you know?”
“Very nice,” he said as we headed up the stairs.
We both agreed to have something at Dark Mocha, around the block. Not exactly a lunch place, but it had different coffees and pastries. I got a regular house coffee and a donut while Ramos wanted a dark Spanish coffee and a rich Napoleon pastry. It was nice to sit here in the afternoon with a nice man.
“How you like what they did with Danny,” he said, sipping his bitter Spanish coffee and diving into the Napoleon. “They booted him out. Good riddance, I say.”
“They what?” I said, nearly dropping my donut. “You’re kidding!”
He shook his head and slowly sipped his coffee.
“He was fired for ‘too much cursing,’ but everybody knows he calls everyone a faggot, even the bosses. Bet you that’s the last we’ll see of him.”
“Wow,” I said, shaking my head. “That’s good. I disliked that guy a hell of a lot.”
“Me too; everybody did.”
“You weren’t the only one.” I looked at wall clock hanging in the restaurant. “Still have ten minutes left,” I said, finishing my coffee and donut.
The Bookstore Clerk Page 5
