The Bookstore Clerk
Page 7
“Oh, yes,” I cried brokenly. “Oh, God, Jesus, yes, fuck me!”
He had broken through and stared at me. His eyes were wide and surprised and he was pumping within me. He ejaculated, I was sure of it; it felt wonderful, his seed spilling within me, a splash, a gush that was saturating me and made me feel encapsulated in wonderment that it was him and what he was doing to me. Oh, God, did I feel a man! I opened my tired eyes and sought out his tongue and mouth with my own, wanting him inside of me forever. We kissed open-mouthed; our saliva ran. We were wet down below, saturated above, freed to love each other. I ejaculated, my semen spitting out on his belly and quickly smearing our flesh in our satisfied pleasure.
His penis relaxed and came out, but it felt like something in me was hurrying to replace it, the scum once again brewing and boiling, like water or cream was in me, getting ready for eruption. His semen flowed out of my ass—it was part of my biological response to his body. And I loved it!
He collapsed exhausted by my side, panting. I was spent and tired also—needless to say, an ass-fucking takes a lot out of you. Still, it’s a wonderful feeling of rejuvenation once the fear and confusion are gone.
“Did you like it?” he asked, breathing heavily.
“Uh huh, made me feel a part of you and for a moment we were one, even better than doing sixty nine. It was wonderful!”
I pushed myself up on my elbows and looked at him. We kissed.
“Billy, you were wonderful!”
“So were you, daddy,” I said shyly. “So were you.” I snuggled into his chest.
Chapter 27 Weeks passed. Sometimes the work was dull and boring, other times busy and explosive. You never knew when a customer was going to ask for a book. It was impossible to say when it would happen; sometimes a filled bookstore with customers, reading, turning pages, and not one question, at other times you’d be inundated by requests about certain titles. Do you have the novel by Graham Greene, or Saul Bellow, or John Updike? Yes, ma’am; no, sir. By the end of the month I pretty well knew every fiction title in stock.
Connie and Miss Terri were still antagonistic toward me— Connie a little less so, Miss Terri more so. I began to feel that Miss Terri’s hatred of men was a natural, inborn emotion, that she could do nothing about it. After one month I was called into Miss Terri’s office. She sat with pen in hand and paper before her.
“I’m signing your paper,” she said, scribbling her name. “Your probation is over. You are now officially a Floor Clerk. That will be all.”
“Thank you,” I said, smiling at her. “Thank you very much.” She looked me but didn’t say anything. I left but I was very ecstatic. They were letting me stay; I had made the grade!
Timmy was also smiling when I returned to work. “I knew they would give it to you. They couldn’t refuse keeping you; you had too many friends on your side.”
Later that evening, as we talked about Connie and Miss Terri, he told me about the roles they played.
“In relationships,” he said, “one will take a woman’s part and one will take a man’s, no matter what sex they are; the world goes around like that.”
I pondered this.
“So you’d say I was the woman in our relationship?”
“If you want to be. But it really doesn’t matter. You can play both parts, man and woman, be whichever you want to be. Sometimes I don’t even know which you are, which I am. And it’s wonderful not knowing; each day is a discovery.” He shook his head. “Don’t ever change, keep probing, keep asking; keep getting underneath things to find out what they really are. Hold that perennial question in you, always keep asking, Is this what life is all about? You’ll find out the majority of people haven’t the slightest clue.” Again he shook his head and laughed. “Hell, sometimes I don’t even know.”
I looked at him, my eyes moistening.
“You’re my sweet bookstore clerk,” he said, his arms about me.
We fell together. That’s what I’d always wanted to be, a bookstore clerk.
THE END
ABOUT MYKOLA DEMENTIUK A Ukrainian born in West Germany, Mykola (Mick) Dementiuk grew up and survived on New York's tough Lower East Side streets, which are now a bare echo of what they once were. He is the author of Holy Communion (Lambda Awards Winner 2010/Bisexual Fiction), Vienna Dolorosa, Times Queer, and 100 Whores. His other writings in e-book are Dee Dee Day, Variety, The Spice of Life, Murder in Times Square, Times Square…in Brooklyn?, Queers of Central Park, A Sucker for the Circus, Times Square Cutie and Stallers, More Tales of Times Square Cuties, and On the Prowl. Visit his website at mykoladementiuk.com for more information.
ABOUT JMS BOOKS LLC JMS Books LLC is a small electronic press specializing in gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender fiction (including erotica, romance, and young adult), as well as popular and literary fiction, nonfiction, and poetry. While our preference is for GLBT stories, we accept stories containing any and all sexualities, as well as general fiction without a romantic subplot. Visit our site at jms-books.com for our latest releases and submission guidelines!