John
Woolfrey 1914
words
1729
Rue de la Visitation
Montreal,
Quebec, Canada
H2L
3C3
(514)
597-2189
Vespasiennes
Copyright 2005 by Raymond John Woolfrey
From East of the Big Q,
a collection of gay short stories about Montreal
Listen to this story recorded live at Zeke’s Gallery
What am I doing here? What if somebody sees me? They’ll know why I’m here for sure.
That’s paranoid, I guess, but still.
Sure is hot out. Some guys have no shirts
on. Wow!
How’m I gonna find it, anyway? How’ll I
know? My sister’s friend did say Dominion Square[1],
didn’t he, when he told her that story? And he was talking about sex and men,
wasn’t he? Hope I’m not wrong. After all, he is an adult. He oughtta know. And
he is in the theatre—he’s even kinda effeminate, with that little scarf around
his neck.
I can’t sit on this bench forever, though.
But I’ve been dying to know where to find it for so long. I hope something
happens soon—before I change my mind. I’m shaking, I’m so nervous.
I would have to take the
Côte-des-Neiges bus after school where Gary Friedman could see me waiting for
it. And he would have to ask me where I was going. What do you care, I
wanted to say, after he wouldn’t go to that movie with me. Maybe he’s not like
me after all.
Aw, I’m fed up with guys my own age
anyway. I can never figure out whether they’re like me or not. Besides, it’s
too dangerous. I don’t want everybody to call me even more names.
’Sides—I like men! It’s okay to fool
around with Bobby Harrison in his attic, but he’s got a boy’s body still—he
doesn’t even shave yet. And then he’s always talking about girls—which ones are
“stacked,” who he felt up—or fingered, and how he wants to see Jeanny Murray’s
boobs. Ugh.
No, I wanna grownup man with hair on his
chest and stubble on his face. Someone like Mr Couture across the street. Oh
man, he turns me on. Especially when he wears that raccoon coat and smiles at
me when nobody’s looking—and then he looks just a little longer than he should.
I’d love it if he’d pick me up in his Camaro naked under that fur coat. I’d
kiss his handsome face with that big moustache and two-day-old stubble, and
then I’d crawl inside that fur coat to get at the dark, brown hair I see at the
top of his shirt.
Or that construction worker I pass on the
way to school every day, the one with the T-shirt that’s too short— Whenever I
see that line of hair running up his stomach, it feels like the area just below
my stomach is gonna explode! And he’s always staring at me too.
But all I ever do is jerk off thinking
about that line of hair and Mr Couture’s stubble. What can I do about it? I
could never go up to them— I could get into so much trouble!
Well, that’s why I’m here— To do something
about it.
So how does this work, anyway? I can’t
tell. Maybe that guy lying in the sun without his shirt on—he turns me
on, but he hasn’t budged the whole time. Besides, he’s with a lady. And that
guy with the hairy legs going by— He doesn’t even see me. There was that guy
with the short black hair who walked past a couple of times and looked at me—he
seemed okay and interested, but I haven’t seen him for a while. Oh, I wish
everybody had to wear some kind of sign saying what they liked.
I gotta pee.
I guess I’ll go in that public washroom
they got here. Let’s see, where is it— Oh, just there, near the horses. Vespasiennes. I wonder what that means?
It sure looks like a washroom.
It smells worse than the horses in here.
Nobody around. Guess I’ll use the urinal.
Ah, that feels good.
Oh-oh. Here comes somebody. Usually I
can’t pee with somebody else there, but I’m already going, and I drank a lotta
Coke and stuff.
Hey, what’s he doing? He’s just shaking
his thing, like you do when you finish going. But he didn’t even go yet!
Well, I’m done. But that man’s still
shaking his thing, flopping it. Wait—it’s getting bigger. Wow! Is he doing it
on purpose? In a public washroom? Man, it’s getting even bigger. Oh no, he sees
me looking, and now he’s looking at me. He’s turning a bit, like he wants to
show me more of it. I better not look at him. Shit, now I’m getting a boner.
What if somebody sees it? I better get outta here.
Whew— That was weird!
Guess I’ll walk around the square some
more. I gotta find someone— I just gotta. Ooh, he looks nice, the guy with the
black beard. Aw, he isn’t even looking at me.
What am I gonna do? Guess I’ll sit down.
That sure was weird, that guy in the
washroom. Why’d he do that? It must have had something to do with sex.
But if it did, why didn’t he just say something like that guy at the bus stop
last year? He was creepy— I sure didn’t want to go home with him! And
the guy in the washroom was kind of old and scrawny. But his thing kept getting
bigger. I’m getting a boner again just thinking about it. Ouch. It’s pulling my
pubic hair. I’ll just shift around a bit. Hope nobody notices it.
Huh? That guy’s smiling and talking to me.
Oh no, it’s the guy from the washroom! I don’t understand what he’s saying. He
speaks really joually[2].
“Pardon?”
“ ’ow are you?”
“Fine, thank you.”
“What are you doing ’ere?”
“Oh, I came to sit down for a bit.”
“You come from a long way?”
“No. Just the other side of the mountain.”
“Do you go to school?”
“Yes. I’m in grade eleven.” I don’t want
him to know I’m only fifteen.
“You wan’ to come wit’ me? We’ll ’ave a
good time!”
What does he mean, have a good time? What
would we do? If he’s talking about what I think he’s talking about, this isn’t
what I had in mind at all. I’ll just ignore him.
“Come on, we’ll ’ave fun. I live jus’ on de
nex’ street. Come on!”
I don’t know. He doesn’t look mean or
anything. And what if nobody else comes along? Besides, I have to get back for
supper before six-thirty. And what about what he was doing at the urinals? I’m
getting a boner again thinking about it I can’t help it. I never saw a grown
man’s thing get hard before. It’s not my fault.
“Eh? What you t’ink?”
He’s smiling still. I think he really
likes me. I wouldn’t want to hurt his feelings. And if I don’t go with him,
maybe I won’t meet anybody else.
“Come jus’ for a minute.”
Well, maybe just for a minute, then. I
might even have time to find someone really sexy afterward.
“Okay, just for a minute.”
Boy, I’m really shaking now. I’m really
gonna do it, even if it’s not exactly what I had in mind. But I don’t have to
tell anybody about this. Nobody’s gonna know except me.
I
wonder what kind of place this is. It looks sort of like a hotel, and sort of
like somebody’s house.
Why’s he talking to that lady? I’ll bet
she knows why I’m here. Maybe I should go.
What a big staircase. Ugh, the carpet is
really dirty and smelly.
Now he’s unlocking a door.
“Come in! Come in!”
Shit, what am I doing? I’m really shaking.
What a weird place. He’s got everything in
here—a fridge, a little stove with two of those funny curly elements, a sink, a
wardrobe and a bed. All in this room. This is where he lives? In just one room?
It’s smelly, too. But the window’s open. Think I’ll sit on the windowsill.
Shit, he’s closing the door. Ugh, even he smells.
“Would you lahk some Pepsi?”
“No thanks.” I want to get this over with.
“You are very pretty wit’ your blon’
’air.”
I kinda like him touching me down there.
Oh-oh— Here comes my boner.
“Oh, dat’s nahss.”
Oh, wow. He’s opening my fly and pulling
out my thing!
“Ah. Dis is very nahss.”
He’s touching my boner— I feel like I’m
gonna spurt soon. But I can’t let him think I’m a baby.
“This is my first time.” Shit, my voice
cracked. I don’t believe it— He’s taking out his teeth! Now he’s putting
my boner in his mouth. Gross! But it feels good— Oh wow—here it comes! Ugh,
he’s swallowing it. I wanna get outta here. Look at him smiling without his
teeth. Ger-ross!
“Would you like to do dat to me?”
Oh, super gross! “No, thank you.” I gotta
get my thing back in my pants and go. Yuk. It’s all slimy now.
“Will you come to see me again?”
“Okay.” I don’t want to hurt his feelings,
but I sure don’t want to come back here!
“An’ take dis.”
A two-dollar bill? What’s that for? “Thank
you. Bye.” Let me outta here!
This
bus ride’s taking forever. Ugh, I can smell that man’s stink on me—I can’t wait
to wash it off. It’s a good thing I took the Park Avenue bus—there’s nobody on
it I know, and some of the people on it are pretty smelly themselves. I wouldn’t
want anybody to smell that man’s stink on me. I wonder why he gave me two
dollars. I guess ’cause I’m a kid, and adults give money to kids sometimes.
“I’m
home!” Everybody’s out on the patio. Good.
“It’s about time. We’re eating in ten
minutes!” I know she can’t see me with the sun on the screen.
“Hi, Dooby.” Stupid dog—stop sniffing me!
I’ll sneak upstairs and into the shower before anybody might else can smell me.
Gotta
scrub this stink off. The soap smells nice; it feels good to get all clean
again. Aaah.
Funny. I’m washing off this old guy’s
stink after he put my boner in his mouth, and here I am in this pink bathroom.
Everything’s pink: the tub, the towels, the polka-dot shower curtain, the Dial soap.
It’s all so prim and proper. Even the sky outside is pink from the sunset.
And in a minute I gotta go down and eat
supper with the rest and act as though nothing happened. They’ll ask me what I
did today, and I’ll talk about school. How could I tell anybody about what I
did today, let alone my family? Everything will seem so normal. Except me, now.
I did something really different today. Really different. I never get into
trouble. I’ve always been such a good boy—I don’t even smoke. But look what I did
today!
Feels good to step out, good to get rid of
that stink! Wait. I can still smell something, though. Not stink— It smells
like … something male, I guess— Grown-up man?
Well, that guy wasn’t perfect. I feel
kinda sorry for him—living in that little room. He really seemed to like me.
And he wasn’t mean. And I did it: I finally had sex with a grownup man. Next
time I’ll do it with a really sexy guy, somebody like Mr Couture or the
construction worker.
Even if that guy was gross, I’m not gonna
regret this. Ever. And next time …