The Pool Boy

by R. W. Clinger

  I didn’t play with him anymore and got to my point, “I want to see you at the pool in the morning. Ten sharp. If you’re not there, I’ll finish what I started on your neck. Trust me, I mean business.”

  He nodded. Terror locked in his eyes, consternation maybe, or embarrassment, I wasn’t sure. Not that it mattered. I had scared the living hell out of him, and meant to.

  “What for?” he asked, shivering across the room.

  I stood, sort of chuckled and sneered at him, felt power fill me, pleased that he understood my position of strength and control over him. “There’s some business we have to take care of, young man. Just some business.”

  “What kind of business?”

  I stood from the bed, walked to the door, turned its brass knob, and focused my attention to him one last time. Before leaving, I told him, “That will have to remain privileged information until morning.”

  He said nothing. Quiet.

  I swear…he started to cry.

  * * * *

  In the hallway, upon my exit, the pool boy popped his head out of his room, looking disheveled and sleepy, half-drunk perhaps, and asked, “What’s going on?”

  I smiled and pointed to Katz’s room behind me. “He had a nightmare. I’ve calmed him down. Everything’s fine. Go back to bed, Tacoma.”

  The pool boy listened, slipped back into his room at the end of the hallway. I didn’t see him until the next morning, when he saved my life.

  * * * *

  Thereafter, I slid into my office and settled at my writing desk. I didn’t work on The Next Fall, though. Instead, I spent the next two hours and Googled everything I could about Katz Strong from West End, Pennsylvania.

  Everything.

  Everything.

  Chapter 51: Rendezvous

  The next morning, ten A.M. on the dot. I walked through the grassy yard. My bare feet picked up the thick dew mixed with the morning-warm sunshine and I made a right onto the narrow cobblestone pathway and followed it to the East Garden and the pool. In my right hand was an eight by eleven-size manila envelope. Ignoring the tranquil beauty of the August morning, ignoring the fresh heat of the day and bird calls in the treetops, I confidently moved forward on a mission, unnerved and preoccupied with a sense of getting a job done, wanting to confront Katz Strong about his sexual escapade with the pool boy the night before.

  As expected, Katz was waiting for me. He sat in one of the Adirondack chairs, smoking a cigarette by the pool. His legs were spread and he was shirtless, only wore navy blue boxers snug against his legs and nothing else.

  The pool boy wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

  I sat across from his sweaty-slick body in my own Adirondack, did not cross my legs like I usually did. Instead, I propped the manila envelope on my lap and said, “Good morning, Katz.”

  He grumbled, “Morning.”

  “I’m glad you made the right decision to meet with me,” I said sarcastically.

  He smelled of the night before: margaritas, guy-sex, heavy perspiration. He looked unshaven and had mussed hair, and his breath reeked of spoiled mayonnaise.

  He exhaled a plume of smoke and flicked ashes on the cement patio at his feet. “What’s up your ass, Fine? What the fuck do you want with me?”

  I sneered at him and said nothing in return. In my mind, I could still see a motion picture of his action with the pool boy from last night: Tacoma on the back of Katz’s motorcycle and the two of them riding away; his naked body against Tacoma’s naked body; Katz’s bare chest touching Tacoma’s chest; his lips connecting with Tacoma’s cock-slit. Because of those visions, I wanted to punch him in the face, or maybe drown him in the pool, try to choke him to death again…something violent and merciless and bloody and uncharacteristic.

  “Did you hear me, Robert?”

  “I did hear you. Do you think you can come into my home and run the place? Do you think you can just take things that don’t belong to you?”

  “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

  “Watch your language, Katz. That’s a perfect example of what I’m talking about. You have no respect for this house, this estate, me, or even yourself for that matter.” I stared at his hairy chest, hard nipples, and the cigarette hanging between his two fingers on his right hand. A gap in his boxers sported a very long, uncut cock that was limp, something I found horrifying and poison to my eyes.

  “You’re a fucking crazy queen, you know that?”

  “And you’re ridiculous and stupid and a toad, Katz Strong. Do you have any idea what you’ve done around here? Do you know what damage you’ve caused in the short hours you’ve spent here?”

  He looked unfazed by my comments; par for the course from a spoiled, rich brat. “I don’t have to take this shit. I can walk out of here right now. Fuck this bullshit! And fuck you! I’m going to get Tacoma and leave.”

  I paused for sanity’s sake, keeping my composure, maintaining my sense and sensibility. I looked over at the shimmering and dancing blue-blue water in the pool, thought it stunning, and then I looked back at the unwanted guest. “It’s simple, if you want to know the truth. You’ll have to leave. You can’t stay here. I won’t permit it. You’ve done enough damage around here for the two of us. Using Tacoma as a fuck toy, and dishonoring my home and me. I think it would be best if you left immediately. But Tacoma isn’t leaving with you. He’s staying here with me. He doesn’t belong to you and isn’t your property. You won’t be taking him with you.”

  He looked pissed and became wide-eyed, frazzled. He tossed his cigarette into the pool. “What are you talking about?”

  “It’s simple. You pack your knapsack, jump on your Harley, and away you go. Don’t come back. How much easier can it be?”

  “If I go…Tacoma goes with me.”

  I didn’t doubt him. After what I had seen the night before, body twisted with body, two erections, pointed nipples, sweat and saliva mixing, I feared that Strong was right, he had the potential to take Tacoma with him, something I didn’t want to see happen. I was willing to do anything to keep the pool boy at my side. Anything. “Don’t threaten me, young man. I don’t take lightly to that. Tacoma is staying here. He’s my employee and he isn’t going anywhere.”

  “Fuck you!” Katz stood, pushed his deflated and long cock back into place, hiding it in his boxers, ran a hand through his mussed hair, and began walking away through the yard, closing in on the rising, cobblestone pathway that led back to the house…and the pool boy.

  I called out to him, “Before you leave, Katz, I have something I want you to see! And if you don’t want to see it, I’ll just tell you what I have on my lap! But I can surely say that you’ll be interested in it! Trust me! Just trust me!”

  I gained his attention and he returned to the edge of the pool, just a few feet away from the pathway. Facing me, obviously pissed, he abruptly asked, “What?”

  “Let me just say a few things before you leave. I know you’re one of these hotshot guys who think they’re God’s gift to men. A tough guy. A bad boy. Completely charming. A stud. You like to swing your dick left and right. You like to show your body off. You think you’re good looking, don’t you? You’re a guy who hangs around with a posse of young men. A bunch of young men who you fuck, spreading your seed around on all of them, and inside them. Come here and there. Lots of it. Spray everywhere. Isn’t that the truth, Katz?”

  “What are you getting at, Fine? Get to your fucking point.”

  “It’s a small town, Mr. Strong, that’s what I’m saying. And you get around. I could cause more damage in your filthy little world than you may have caused in mine. Why don’t you tell me about a guy named Jonah Mencha, Katz? Do you know him? Do you?”

  “Fuck you!” he hollered at me, hands on his hips. Outrage flared in his eyes.

  “Well, I know him. And I know you do too. After doing some homework on you. Yes, I do. You can thank the internet for that. Facebook and Instagram and Twitter. You may think I’m a fucking i
diot, but I know how to use social media, you little motherfucker. Mencha is your boyfriend. The two of you pal around West End and fuck each other all the time. You’ve been involved since last October and…”

  “Fuck off!”

  I stood and moved by the pool, next to him with the envelope in my right hand. He stepped up to me, pissed out of his mind, furious. Face to face, I went off on him, “How will you explain your sex adventure last night to your boyfriend? How is Jonah going to feel about you fucking another man up the ass? How will he handle it when he learns that you screwed my pool boy? Where is that going to leave you in this little town? How is Jonah Mencha, twenty-three-years-old, a physical fitness trainer at Par’s Athletic Club going to feel that you betrayed him? Do you think he will approve of your slutty behavior? Do you think he will enjoy seeing the pictures of you with your dick in the pool boy’s asshole? Do you think he’s going to love seeing Tacoma’s cock in your mouth? What do you say, Katz Strong? Tell me. I want to know. Because I have all the pictures and proof right here. Right here.” I slapped the manila envelope against my left palm once, twice, and three times. “Tell me, Katz. Because I really want to know. How is Jonah going to react to you fucking around behind his back?”

  Huffing like a bull, he snatched the envelope out of my hand and ripped it open. He pulled out a stack of colored pictures that told a graphic story of his sexual romp with Tacoma from the night before.

  “Isn’t it a pity how we can ruin our relationships sometimes, Mr. Strong?”

  One of the photos fell on the cement near our feet. I could see it clearly: Tacoma hunched over on his bed, ass spread open, Katz Strong positioned behind the pool boy, Katz’s fingers spreading Tacoma’s guy-hole open, his mouth near the asshole and his tongue sticking out, the point of it touching the pool boy’s private sliver.

  I told him, “Jonah’s going to love that shot. Don’t you think?”

  “Fuck you!” Katz screamed at the top of his lungs, raging with anger, blazing eyes, pursed lips, and a tight jaw. “Fuck you, queen!” He took the photos and the envelope and tossed them into the pool. Then he bent over and snatched up the one that had fallen to the ground next to our feet and crumpled it into a ball, and whizzed it into the pool with the others. He grabbed my neck, squeezed my esophagus with his right palm, began to press oxygen out of me little by little, and threatened me, “I will kill you, queen! I will fucking kill you! Don’t think I won’t! You’re not going to ruin my relationship and life! I won’t let you!”

  I tried to catch my breath, gasped, “There are more photos on my computer…”

  “Fucking old faggot!” He pressed harder and harder on my throat with his hand, choking me.

  My eyes felt as if they were sinking into the back of my head. My tongue lolled to the side of my opened mouth. I think I turned an awkward shade of gray or white when he finally released his hand from my neck. I coughed and choked on fresh air, huffed and puffed for breath.

  “You’re an asshole, Robert. Nothing but an old faggot and asshole. Don’t even think of trying to blackmail me with pictures. Don’t fucking play games with me.”

  I can’t remember him picking me up with his muscular frame and throwing me into the pool. I can’t remember much of the next few minutes in the pool. I can’t remember craving oxygen, needing air, dying or drowning or being murdered by him. I can’t remember any of it. I can remember blueness, though…liquid-blue mixed with the taste of chlorine…and wet photos floating around my sinking body like tiny corpses…pictures of young men kissing, hugging, licking, smiling, and fucking on a familiar bed. I can remember pictures of Tacoma’s dick being sucked, and a picture of a dick being pressed into an asshole, and a picture of the pool boy cringing as he was being violated by a cock…and…and I saw blackness. Nothing but pure blackness. Blackness. Blackness.

  Chapter 52: Survival

  Tacoma pulled me out of the pool, pumped my chest clear of water by using CPR, and filled my lungs with air. He saved me on that wicked morning from Katz’s tyranny. I spat up water and felt my head spin.

  Above me I listened to Tacoma, “Breathe, God damn you! Breathe. Just fucking breathe. That’s all I want. That’s all I need. Just breathe. Because if you don’t, I’ll die.”

  During those seconds (or minutes, I’m not even clear to this day how much time passed) as Tacoma pumped my chest with his palms, placed his lips over my lips, and pushed water away from my eyes and mouth, and away from my nose, I believed I had passed into a dreamlike state of bliss where there were chiseled mermen—My life was always about mermen, wasn’t it? I thought so. Always.—circled my body, kissed my shoulders and inner thighs, grazed my arms and toes, and every other part of my body. They were absolutely gorgeous men that surrounded my failing body, and helped me swim to the surface of some far away and deep, blue-blue pool, assisting me to safety, and nearby fresh air, holding me above their god-like and chiseled bodies that I could worship on a Sunday morning like Jesus, manipulating my skin and…

  Tacoma said above me, in my face, “You’re fine now. I’ve helped you. I’ve saved you, Robert. Everything is going to be fine.”

  All I really recall is choking on water and the strong and burning flavor of chlorine at the back of my throat. As I came to, I gasped as fresh air struck my lungs. I blinked a number of times and kept my eyes from rolling into the rear of my skull. In the distance, the bright ball of the August sun blinded me with its yellow-red-orange fire. But that didn’t seem to matter since the pool boy came to my rescue and hung over me, chin next to my chin, his breath inside my mouth, cheeks touching, and our lips placed so close together.

  “Robert, you’re alive. You’re breathing on your own.”

  And I was, being held by the pool boy, next to him, in his arms, intoxicated by him. Death had slipped by me. I survived thanks to Tacoma. And the young man was with me again. All mine. Mine. Always.

  Chapter 53: Apology

  Later that day.

  “I’m sorry. That should’ve never happened. I should’ve kept Katz away from here,” Tacoma told me, interrupting my work.

  I sat in my office writing, readers perched on the end of my slim nose. Bach played in the background, relaxing me. I took my glasses off and placed them down on the wooden desk in front of me, pressed the bridge of my nose with two fingertips, and closed my eyes. “He’s gone now, young man. He left right after he pushed me into the pool. There’s nothing to worry about.”

  He had tears in his eyes. They turned glassy and wet. He wiped the back of his right hand across them, began to sniffle, needing a Kleenex; I didn’t offer him one. “I’ve broken every rule here, haven’t I? You have so few rules and I’ve disregarded all of them.”

  I nodded and sighed, pulled fingers away from my nose. “Yes, you have. I suppose rules are made to be broken, though, aren’t they? It’s how we learn things. It’s how we grow as humans.”

  A tear rolled out of his right eye and down his cheek. He wiped it away with one of his palms. “You’re going to ask me to leave, aren’t you?”

  I shook my head. “Never. I’ve grown attached to you. What’s done is done. Katz has left. I couldn’t have him here. He’s far too dangerous.”

  “I deserve a punishment of sorts.”

  I shook my head again. “I’m not your drill sergeant in the Navy. I’m not your father. There’s no need for any type of punishment. We’ve both learned a lesson.”

  There was a high-back leather chair to the left of my desk. He found it and sat down, slumped into it with a great sigh. He looked shunned, ashamed and embarrassed; the complete opposite of how I really felt about him. “You don’t have to forgive me, Robert, for what has happened. I deserve to be treated badly by you.”

  “Please, stop. You’re being overdramatic. But you’re right, I haven’t forgiven you yet.”

  “I know that.”

  “I still have to absorb most of it, to tell you the truth.”

  Tacoma rushed to add. “I was jus
t saying that you don’t have to forgive me for Katz’s short visit. I understand that I was in the wrong for inviting him here, having him spend a couple of nights and all…and everything else that happened. It’s unforgivable about our drinking and coming in so late, and other things.”

  “You state your case quite clearly, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” he said, nodded.

  “You’re very honest, aren’t you?”

  “I try to be.”

  “And it shows.”

  A heavy silence hung between us. The silence stretched for a minute, two minutes, more than five minutes. I stared from Tacoma to the manuscript’s pages in front of me on the desk. Neither of us said anything to each other during that time.

  Eventually he broke the silence and asked, “Can I ask you a question, Robert?”

  I didn’t look at him, keeping my view on The Next Fall. “Yes. If you must.”

  “Why were you jealous of Katz sleeping with me?”

  My head lifted and I stared directly at him with an opened mouth. How shocking that moment was for me. How absurd. How crippling for me. How real and necessary to hear. “I really don’t know why. Is there a plausible answer? Maybe. Maybe not. I just know that you’re easy to look at. I can’t quit thinking of you when you’re not around. I don’t know if that makes any sense to you or not, but it’s the truth. All of it. Every word.”

  “I think if I were you, Robert, I would have asked me to pack my bags and leave. Any person in their right mind wouldn’t have a young man like me around. I’m too dangerous…too misled like Katz.”

  “But you’re nothing like Katz. You’ll never be like him.”