An Officer and His Gentleman (8 page)

Chance stood and put them on slowly. They were a little too large, but he said, "Perfect fit." He wrapped his arms around Brody's waist and rested his head against his chest. "I'm glad I came over tonight. I almost chickened out."
"I'm glad you did, too, baby," he said. He slipped both hands down the back of Chance's pants and squeezed his ass again, and then he lowered his head and kissed him on the mouth. When his tongue found Chance's tongue, he closed his eyes and pressed two fingers against Chance's anus. The tip of his middle finger started to slip inside the small, tight opening.
Chance was ready to arch his back and spread his legs so Brody could go deeper. He wanted Brody to bang his ass. But he stepped back and said, "I'd better get going. It's late."
"When can I see you again?" Brody asked.
"My boss is a real prick sometimes," he said. "Come in between five and six. He takes long naps." He leaned forward and kissed him on the lips, then grabbed his blazer from the floor and jogged down the steps in his bare feet. He turned back once to smile and wave. Brody was standing on the top step, leaning back a little, naked from the waist down with his hands on his hips and his thin, hairy legs spread apart. Chance started to jog, and when he reached the car it occurred to him that for the first time in ages, he was whistling.
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The next morning, Chance was up before dawn and working in the kitchen on the special for the day. Though he normally wore jeans and a white T-shirt, that morning he decided he'd wear Brody's dirty sweatpants all day. He'd slept with them on his pillow all night, and he'd covered his face with them and jerked off right before his morning shower. He wanted to wear them in public, too; it made him feel naughty and sexy. Wearing the pants, he could feel Brody against his naked body when he smiled and talked to customers who never would have imagined he'd actually been with a man as hot and sexy and wonderful as Brody.

On Sundays he liked to prepare something extra special for the customers. So he designed an original recipe, in only a matter of minutes, for decadent chocolate pound cakes baked in tube pans, with luscious red raspberries and large chunks of dark chocolate. The secret that made this pound cake stand out from all others was that he prepared a special raspberry glaze that had to be applied to the cake as soon as it came from the oven. He actually poured it over the hot cakes while they were still in the baking pans so they would absorb the sweet glaze completely. Most people would have thought a cake is just a cake; they would have said, just mix it all together and shove it into the oven. But that's not how Chance thought. A cake was a work of love; it had to taste rich and soft and have the right amount of sweetness, and the finished product had to shine and gleam, like a brand-new car you couldn't wait to drive. He even coated each raspberry with dark cocoa so they wouldn't sink to the bottom of the pans while the cakes were baking. But more than that, each slice had to have at least four berries and four chunks of chocolate.

When Dan came down a few minutes before eight, the cakes were wrapped and displayed in the wooden bowl in three different ways. There were whole cakes priced at twenty-five dollars each, there were half-cakes for twelvefifty, and there were individually wrapped slices of cake priced at four dollars each for customers like Mrs. Dolan, who thought buying an entire cake was a waste for someone alone. They were wrapped in clear plastic, and the polish from the glaze and the way they had risen to perfect rounds on top almost made them look artificial. Dan picked up a slice and stared at the price, then shook his head and mumbled something incoherent. But he didn't argue with Chance that morning because he knew anything made of chocolate would be sold out before the end of the day. But he did say, "If the whole cakes don't sell, cut them all up into slices and sell them like that. We make more money that way."

Chance nodded, but he knew the whole cakes would sell, too. A lot of the customers entertained weekend family or friends on Sundays and they liked being able to buy a whole cake for dessert. Betty Shack had purchased one of his lemon blueberry pound cakes once on a Sunday for her family, and she'd whispered to Chance, as if she knew a state secret, "I'm going to lie and tell them I baked it myself." Then she'd clutched her bamboo purse and laughed. He'd smiled and whispered to her, "Go ahead. If anyone asks, I'll tell them you made it yourself. I'll swear to it." She'd smiled and tapped him on the arm—she liked being naughty, too.

"I'm going out to the barn to see if those squirrels came back last night," Dan said. He was on his way out the back door, crossing past the checkout area. But he stopped short and stared at Chance's sweatpants. "What's with the baggy pants,
you
?"

Chance felt his face flush. He looked down at the sweatpants and said, "All my jeans are in the laundry and I won't have time to wash them until tomorrow." It hadn't occurred to him that Dan would notice the pants. He never commented on what he wore.

The old man shrugged his shoulders. "They don't even fit. It looks like you don't even have an ass. I don't like them." Then he raised his hands and cupped them, as if he were holding an invisible watermelon. "I like to watch that ass when you walk around and now I have nothing to see."

"Don't worry," Chance said, "My ass will be back tomorrow."
By three o'clock that afternoon, all that remained of the cakes in the wooden bowl were three individual slices. One woman on her way back to the city bought two whole cakes— one to eat later that day and one to freeze for a later date. She said she'd started with one slice to eat in the car, but when she opened the plastic wrapping and bit into the cake, her mouth started to water and she got that sharp pain on the side of her face when something tastes wonderful. She ate the slice, licked her fingers clean, and went back into the market for more. She said it was the best cake she'd ever had: soft and moist and layered perfectly with different flavors. Chance just smiled and told her it would last for months in the freezer if she wrapped it well.
The day passed quickly because the market was busy, and the old man had been out of sight the entire time, which was unusual for him. Sarah was off on Sundays, but the woman who filled in for her told Chance, "He's probably having too much fun torturing the squirrels." Then she laughed and slapped the counter hard. Dan hated her because she had long, greasy graying hair that fell to her shoulders in clumps, her underarms smelled like cooked meatloaf, and she loved to gossip. There were things he didn't want anyone to know, especially when it came to his arrangement with Chance. But she was honest and always there on time.
Dan finally came loping through the back door a little past four o'clock. He was smiling and there seemed to be a lilt in his voice. "I got those little
bastardos
," he said, "I knew it. This morning when I checked the traps, there they were, five of them, and they all had bushy orange tails. I knew they were coming back."
Chance was turning over the potato salad so it would look fresh. "What did you do with them?" He bit his bottom lip, hoping the old man hadn't done anything cruel.
"I drove them to Newark!" Dan shouted. He was still smiling and patting himself on the chest.
"All the way to Newark?"
"I let them go in the cemetery," he said, "They like the cemetery. There are plenty of trees with nuts."
Chance wished he could take
him
to the cemetery, too. But all he said was, "That's good. I'm glad they're gone."
"Oh, I'm still setting the traps tonight, just to be sure," he said, "but I don't think I'm gonna see any more for a long time." Then he looked into the wooden bowl and saw that all the cakes had been sold. "They're all gone?" He scratched the back of his head and smiled. "You did good. You can watch that Food Network all night tonight if you want."
Chance jerked his head back. He knew how much Dan hated the Food Network. He must have been feeling really good that day.
"I'm going up for my nap now," Dan said. When he crossed the market toward the back staircase, he lowered his head as he passed the cash register so he wouldn't have to say anything to the cashier he hated. He had no idea she lifted her arm and gave him the middle finger before winking at Chance.
After Dan went upstairs, the market traffic started to slow and there wasn't much to do. By four-thirty, Chance told the part-time cashier she could go home early and he'd handle things until he closed at five. He wasn't smiling much that afternoon, and when he grabbed the broom to sweep, he gripped the handle so hard his knuckles turned white. He'd been expecting Brody to stop by, and it didn't look like it was going to happen now. He was beginning to think the previous night on Brody's veranda had been nothing more than a booty call.
He slammed the broom into a corner next to the cash register and kicked the trash can a few times. But just as he was about to lock up for the night, the front door opened and in walked Brody. He was out of breath, holding a small, thin paper bag. "Man, I'm glad you're still open," he said, "I drove that big old Cadillac faster than it's been driven in years to get here on time."
Chance took a deep breath and forced a smile. "I just figured you were busy, or that you had other plans. You're not obligated to show up here for anything." He wanted to sound light and breezy, but it came off more like hurt and disappointed.
"Ah, but I got you a little present today, baby," Brody said. He crossed toward the counter and pulled a DVD from the bag. "It's that movie you told me about. The one where your mother named you after the guy named Chance." He shrugged his shoulders and smiled. "I figured that if you're named after a guy in a movie, the least you can do is watch it."
Chance took the DVD and stared at the front cover for a moment, but he knew he would not be able to watch it any time soon: Dan didn't own a DVD player. "This is nice. Thanks." His voice became soft and calm and he looked up and said, "I have to lock the door so no one comes in. We close at five on Sundays and there are people who will come in anyway if the door's not locked." He pressed his palms on the counter and hopped over to the other side. When he crossed toward the front door, he purposely brushed against Brody's arm in a playful way.
He was sure that Brody stared at his ass while he locked up. "You're wearing my sweatpants, I see. I hope you at least had time to wash them first. They really did smell awful."
He locked the door and pulled down the shade. Then he turned around and said, "Nope. I left them as dirty as they were last night."
Brody's eyes became wide and excited, and he started rocking on the balls of his feet. If he'd had a tail, it would have been wagging. "I like that," he said. And then he asked, "Are we alone?"
Chance nodded yes. "Follow me."
He led him back to the kitchen area behind the deli counter. He knew it was safe; the old man was upstairs for the rest of the day. When they were in the back, he slowly removed his clothes while Brody stood there and watched. Then he hopped up onto a tall wooden butcher block table and sat there with his naked legs wide open. Brody wore a tight black T-shirt and olive green jeans. He walked to the butcher block and stood between Chance's legs; his lips were pressed together and his eyebrows were furrowed. When he leaned forward and started kissing Chance's neck, Chance wrapped his legs around his waist and his arms around his shoulders. His head went back and he opened his mouth, and Brody shoved his tongue inside and started sucking his tongue. Then Brody grabbed his ass with both hands and lifted him off the counter. His right hand slowly inched to the middle of Chance's ass and he started to work his middle and index fingers inside. Chance arched his back and held Brody's shoulders tighter. When the fingers were all the way in, he closed his eyes and rubbed his face against Brody's five o'clock shadow.
Brody whispered, "Can I go inside? All I want to do is bend you over and nail you, baby. I can't stop thinking about fucking that ass."
Chance held his breath for a second. Brody's fingers felt so great up his ass. "I don't want the first time to be in here. Not in the back room of a smelly kitchen."
Brody started to work his fingers in and out. "Please, baby, I gotta get some of this. I'm dying to get in there."
His fingers felt really good. He started to buck and rotate his ass slowly against the movement of Brody's fingerfucking. But he said, "No. Not here. I want to do it too, but I want it to be special." The fact that Brody was so eager to get inside made him smile, but he wasn't teasing. He really did want it to be special.
But the begging was nice.
Brody removed his fingers and slowly lowered Chance to the floor by pressing on his shoulders. Chance went down on his knees and reached to unbutton Brody's jeans. When he pulled down his zipper, Brody's rock-solid penis popped out and hit him on the lips. "Close your eyes and don't be mad. I'm still going to take good care of you today," he said. Then he opened his mouth wide and swallowed him all the way to the back of his throat. Brody's hips bucked forward and he grabbed Chance's ears. Chance started to suck, then swallowed. Brody still tasted salty and smelled like watereddown vinegar. He was so excited, there were already drops of pre-come oozing from the opening. Chance's cheekbones indented and his head moved back and forth. He started to breathe through his nose and saliva dripped down his chin.
"Are you my little slut?" Brody asked. "Are you my cocksucking slut?"
Chance smiled, then with the huge cock in his mouth, nodded yes.
"You like big dirty dick, don't you? You want me to fuck that mouth like a pussy?" Brody asked.
Chance nodded yes again.
"I know you do ... you love sucking cock. I've got a huge load for you today, baby. Suck that cock dry, baby."
Chance moaned and sucked harder.
"You want a facial, baby?" Brody asked. "You want me to jerk my big, fat dirty dick off all over your face?" He began to buck his hips more rapidly.
Chance nodded yes. He did want it. He placed his left palm on Brody's thigh for support and started to jerk his own penis with his right hand. While he continued to suck, Brody controlled the rhythm by holding his head and jerking it back and forth. He was strong and rough, and Chance relaxed all his neck muscles so Brody could move his head in any direction. He felt like a human flesh-light toy ... if his lips hadn't been puckered and his tongue hadn't been pressed so tightly to the bottom of Brody's penis, he would have smiled. When Brody's penis hit the back of Chance's throat, Brody moaned and sighed each time.
A few minutes later, Brody pulled out of his mouth and said, "I'm gonna jerk off all over your face now. Open your mouth and beg for it, baby."
Chance opened his mouth all the way and stuck out his tongue. Brody then reached down with his left hand and started to tug the shaft while the head was only inches from his open mouth. The jerking became more intense. Chance's lips puffed out and the tip of his tongue curled up. He knew Brody was about to climax and he didn't want to waste a drop of juice that came from between Brody's hairy legs. And in no time, Brody jerked a thick stream of nectar into Chance's mouth. He took it all. Some of it landed on his lips and he licked them dry. As he gulped and swallowed, he closed his eyes and deposited his own creamy puddle onto the wooden floor boards.
He was learning that Brody wasn't one of those guys who put their dicks away the minute after they come, and that he liked standing there watching Chance suck out the last drops while he penis became flaccid and floppy. He even whispered, "Baby, you've got the best cocksucking lips in the world."
When Chance finally let it slip out of his mouth, Brody helped him up to his feet and said, "I'm taking you to dinner tonight. Get dressed, baby." Then he shoved his penis back into his pants and zipped up his jeans. "And after dinner, I'm going to fuck your brains out."
Chance frowned;. There was no way he could sneak out on a date, not with Dan Pratta upstairs. "I can't. I have plans." He pulled on the sweatpants and reached down for his socks. His voice became solid and even, and slightly cold. He knew he had to tell Brody everything about his living situation with the old man, but it didn't feel like the right time or place.
Brody said, "Okay. How about tomorrow?" He was still smiling, but not as wide as he had been a moment earlier.
"Tomorrow's bad too." He pulled his shirt over his head and reached for his shoes. He knew he sounded too abrupt, like he was trying to get rid of Brody.
Brody stopped smiling and his voice became deep and throaty. "I don't get you. We have this great time last night and today, and now it feels like you're blowing me off again. I don't get it, man. I thought this was more than just getting off."
"I'm not blowing you off. I just don't have time is all." He stopped what he was doing and stared at Brody for a moment. He shrugged his shoulders and raised his hands.
"Then
fucking
make time," Brody shouted. His eyes were wide and a thick vein in his forehead looked about ready to explode. He sounded like an officer giving an order to an enlisted man.
Chance looked up at him and tilted his head. Brody had become almost belligerent. He sounded worse than the old man, giving him orders and telling him what to do all the time. It occurred to Chance that he was already in one abusive situation, and that he didn't need to start another one with Brody, a guy who, for all Chance knew, was only in town temporarily, and one he'd never see again when summer was over. If Brody's mother died Monday, he'd be gone Tuesday.
"I don't think I like your tone," Chance said. "It's mean and uncalled for. And I don't think we know each other well enough for you to speak to me like that. Sounds like you might have a few control issues. How do you know I don't have a date with someone else tonight?"
Well, he probably should not have mentioned a date with someone else.
Brody's eyebrows went up and his head jerked back. "You know, maybe I'd better leave right now so you can get ready for your date. Are you going to tell
him
you just sucked me off? Are you going to suck him off next?"
"That's none of your damn business," Chance said. He clenched his fists and turned away. Brody calling him a slut and talking dirty during sex was one thing, but in this context, it was uncalled for. "Besides, I didn't say I actually did have a date with another guy. I just said I could have one. You don't know."
"I'm starting to think this whole thing is a big mistake, and that all you're doing is playing games. You're really pissing me off. I don't need this, man." Brody slammed his fist on the wooden chopping block as hard as he could. His face tightened and he bit his bottom lip.
Chance jumped back and pressed his palm to his throat. His knees felt shaky. The old man may have been verbally abusive, but he'd never been abusive in a violent way. "You know what? Maybe you
should
leave."
Brody shook his head and threw his hands in the air, then sighed and said, "I don't need this. This is bullshit, man. I'm out of here. I'll see you around. Have fun on your date tonight."
He took a deep breath as Brody stormed out of the kitchen. But when he heard the front door unlock and then slam shut, his stomach clenched so hard he had to grab the butcher block for support.
That night he passed on dinner and rested naked on the sofa from seven o'clock until midnight, watching the Food Network. The fight with Brody kept repeating in his head. He kept grinding his teeth and changing positions because he couldn't get comfortable on the sofa. The old man hated the Food Network, so he read the newspaper. He also drank another bottle of wine and five cans of beer. By nine, he was so drunk he didn't even bother to grab Chance's ass. He just rose from his chair and staggered into his bedroom without even saying goodnight. Sundays were like this: Dan always celebrated the end of another long week by drinking a little extra booze. When Chance heard the old man fart in the bedroom, he closed his eyes and shook his head.