Here follows my first attempt at a story. Feedback will be appreciated. Fictional story with an age gap, albeit not one that would run afoul of the laws of most jurisdictions. Be warned that the steamy stuff won't appear until later chapters. Please support Nifty.
Beautiful Burglar Boy - Ch. 1 By Jeff Ennig
Though now it seems like several lifetimes ago, I still remember the day young Ollie came crashing into my life. I was in the basement of my cafe late one evening, after dark, working on closing the place down for the night, when I heard a crash from upstairs. "Shit, what did I do this time," I thought. Something expensive must've fallen and broken. Muttering to myself about what a careless moron I am for leaving some thing or other precariously placed upstairs, I closed the safe door, grabbed my keys so I wouldn't lock myself out of the basement office again, took up a box of supplies to restock, and trudged upstairs to survey the damage I'd caused.
As I reached the top of the stairs, I heard rattling and clanking, as though there were some creature frantically searching around for some hidden treasure. Trying my best to enter stealth mode, I slowly set the box of supplies down on the floor at the top of the stairs, gently clutched my rattling keys in my fist, with one key sticking out between my fingers for tactical advantage, focused on the volume of my breathing, and took one slow step at a time, landing each step toes first. As a kid, I loved to sneak out of my bedroom and roam the house at night, but with the floors and stairs creaking in certain spots, and my parents' room right across the hall, I had to learn to do my best cat impression, like a lion cub stalking my imaginary prey while avoiding waking the king of the pride lest he seek to steal my glory. I put those childhood skills to work now, as I sought to sneak up on whatever intruder was rustling around in the dark of my shop. I'm not the most physically imposing man, average really, with less-than-average build, as I never did acquire the discipline to lift weights and do that sort of thing. But I was tall enough, and more importantly experienced enough, to know how to create an authoritative presence that made people listen. From the sounds I was hearing, I could tell the intruder had found their way to the small refrigerators under the counter, and seemingly having relaxed into believing the coast was clear, was slowly pulling desired items out of the fridge. As I rounded the corner, approaching the end of the counter behind which the intruder was crouching, I quietly inhaled, tightened my diaphragm, and prepared to flip on the lights and let out a booming command to startle the intruder. I reached my hand for the light switch, flipped it on, ready to roar, when I momentarily lost my breath as I saw the most beautiful sight I'd seen in a long time.
He was bending over at the waist, rifling through the fridge, placing one thing after another on the floor next to him. My eyes quickly traveled up the pair of flawlessly sculpted athletic calves, to the hem of the loose-fitting basketball shorts, further up to where the shorts clung from the summer humidity to two taut, toned, perfectly shaped globes of muscle framed by a narrow set of hips. The most perfect butt I had ever seen. The instant I regained my breath, restoring my adrenaline-fueled readiness to assert my authority in the situation, he jumped back, shot up, and turned to face me, eyes wide with startled fright. His face was dirty, he looked tired and terrified, with an unkempt tangle of soft brown hair, and beads of sweat on his brow as he stared back at the trouble before him. But behind all of that was a face that was the consummate picture of the beauty of youth, like that carved by the scultpors of classical Antiquity or the great Renaissance masters. A gently chiseled jaw, smoothly angled nose, high cheekbones, flawless symmetry, soft and golden tanned skin, and mesmerizingly beautiful brown eyes. My aggression melted away, and as I looked at this youth of no more than nineteen, I found myself switching from lion defending my turf into the kind of stern parent mode I deploy on my nieces and nephews.
"What do you think you're doing, kid?" my voice boomed.
"Uh, um..." he stammered and took a half-step back, but didn't yet utter a word.
"Explain yourself!"
Once he seemed to gather his senses, he stood up straight, puffed out his chest, and huffed back "fuck you, mister! I don't have to tell you a goddamn thing!" He wasn't a big guy, maybe 5'7", so only a few inches shorter than me, but he certainly was in better shape and his athletic frame probably had a bit more strength than me, a 6'0" average-build 30-something with a faint bit of flab and mostly-neglected muscles. If we tussled, he'd have a pretty good chance of winning. But he didn't look like the type of person I always feared I'd encounter in a situation like this. He clearly wasn't a real bad ass, a hardened criminal, or even a tweaked-out junkie. He just looked like a scared kid who'd been caught doing something stupid.
Thinking on my feet on the white lies I could deploy to get this gorgeous creature to stay, I calmly but firmly replied, "This macho bravado thing you're doing here, kid, is not gonna serve you well in this situation. I just caught you robbing the place. I've called the cops, and the cops in our little town here know me well. They'll be here any minute. You have exactly sixty seconds to convince me why I should call them off. I suggest you drop the tough guy attitude and start talking."
He nervously shifted his weight from one foot to the other, seemingly trying to decide between bolting, fighting, or backing down. He must've decided I wasn't really a threat, but still to be taken seriously, because finally, exhaling loudly, he relented. "Ok, ok. I'm sorry, mister. I thought no one was here. I was, I was just..."
"You were trying to rob the place."
"No!" he shouted. Then, muttering, "Well, shit, yeah, I guess so. I just, well, fuck, okay, fine, I haven't eaten in two days, and I was fucking desperate, okay?" As he said these last words, his shoulders sank, his chest deflated, his head hung slightly downward, his knees bent slightly, he shuffled his feet a bit, and I could see the beginnings of a tear forming in each eye.
"I'm sure there's a sad story there, kid, but I'm not running a charity here, nor is this a pity party. How do I know you're not just some damn junkie lying his way into scoring another hit? Or some jerk who's too damn lazy to work and thinks he's entitled to take whatever he wants from others?"
"Fuck you, man! That ain't me! And I'm not a fucking kid, I turn 18 next week."
Great. That breathtakingly beautiful ass he's walking around with really should have a warning label on it. CAUTION: JAIL BAIT. I guess a week isn't such a long time. But still. "Sure. But that still makes you a kid in my book. And do I have to remind you again to check your damn attitude?"
"Ok, ok. Look, I've never done anything like this before. I really haven't eaten in two fucking days. I suppose I would've eaten sooner if I had been more ok with the idea of breaking in somewhere like this. I've got nowhere to go. I just don't know what the hell to do. Please, mister, please don't have me arrested."
"Well, it doesn't look like you've damaged anything here. And lucky for you, I have a soft spot for dumb kids. Tell you what, you stick around, put back everything you took out of the fridges, tell me more of your story, and I'll call off the cops and even fix you something to eat."
He looked a bit reluctant, unsure of my motives. But not really seeing any other good choices, he agreed. Once he finished putting back the mess he had made, I reached out to grab him by the shoulder and lead him over to a table where we could sit and talk. He recoiled slightly at my reach, and as my fingers dug into his shoulder, he winced in pain, totally out of proportion to how hard my grip was. Suddenly I noticed a few bruises on the kid, on his neck, arms, and even the faded remnants of a black eye. I decided not to ask about it right then, but did loosen my grip slightly. This beautiful Adonis had a hard protective shell around him that might take a while for me to crack through. I drew him past me, catching a dizzying whiff of the intoxicating scent of his teenage pheromones, and pulled out a chair for him to sit on. I reached over the counter to grab the house phone and proceeded to call my cell phone, knowing it was downstairs and set to silent. After a few seconds, I mocked my way through my half of a call to our town's police. "Yeah, hi Debbie, it's Jeff at Apollo Cafe again. It looks like a false alarm here. But when I was taking out the trash, I think I heard some kids being rowdy down the alleyway. Would you ask the guys to take a few passes by here tonight, just in case? Oh, and remind the lieutenant that I have a batch of his favorite cookies in the lineup tomorrow. Yeah, okay, thanks. Have a good night, hon."
The kid looked over at me a little confused, but either too shy or too scared to say anything. Reading the moment, I explained, "Sorry, kid, you had the bad luck of picking a cop's hangout for your first place to rob. I know all 23 cops in this bustling town, and all of them and their staff all love to hang out here. Even the mayor, county judges, and the sheriff stop in sometimes. I've called them off for now, but trust me, it's in your best interests not to mess with me." The cop's hangout part was true, even if my phone call wasn't.
"Fuck me. That's just fucking great. I'm screwed. What am I going to do?"
"Well, first thing's first, let's get some food in you so your brain can start working right and you can stop making stupid decisions and talking like a fool. Then once your brain is back on, you can stop swearing every other word. Cursing is like hot sauce. Great to sprinkle a little here and there, but use too much, and it's all you can taste." I went back in the kitchen, pulled out a couple leftover portions of the day's special (i.e. the stuff I'd need to throw out the next day), threw it in a pan and warmed it back up. I poured a little lemonade in a glass, put the food on a large plate, grabbed some utensils, and walked back out to the table where the burglarizing beauty sat sighing with his head in his hands. I set down the glass I held in my left hand, and still holding the plate and utensils in my right, I reached out to gently lift the kid's chin with my left. He again recoiled slightly at the touch. I looked down into his eyes, trying to display a soft and gentle demeanor. "Chin up, kid, here's some chow. Eat up."
As I set the plate down, the kid seized the utensils bundle from my hand, tore open the napkin, and began ravenously devouring the plate of food.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down there, kiddo. If you really haven't eaten in two days, it's not good for your stomach to be shoving food down your gullet like a goose gearing up for migration. I know you're hungry, but don't forget to chew your food first." Now that I was sitting down and more relaxed, I looked around the place again, and still didn't really notice any damage, apart from the steel pot I found on the kitchen floor that the kid must've knocked over earlier, alerting me from the basement to this presence. "I suppose you came in the back door, huh? I have a bad habit of leaving the darn thing unlocked while I'm closing up for the night. Small Midwestern town and all. Are you from around here? There may be over 25,000 people in Spartanville, but I'm good with faces, and feel like I know most of the town. And I'm pretty certain I've never seen your face before." I was careful not to put too much emphasis on "your face," lest I give away my burning attraction too soon and scare him off.
I barely got grunts in reply.
"Geez, you really are a teenager, grunts and all. Well, I'll just take that to mean you're new in town, mystery man." I've never been one to pepper people with intrusive questions. I prefer to give a few light promptings here and there, and sort of invite people to share when they're ready to do so. Still, I wanted to get at least a little more interaction out of this kid. Opportunities to be this close to someone so beautiful don't come along every day.
"Now that I've called off the cops and gotten you fed, how about you at least tell me your name, kid?"
"Ollie."
"Short for Oliver?"
"Hmph," he grunted, his face stuffed with food. My word, this kid looked gorgeous even with dirt on his face, a faded black eye, cheeks packed with grub, and bits of food and slobber dribbling down his masterfully sculpted chin. I knew I had to figure out how to get this kid to stick around.
"I'm guessing that's a yes. Well, nice to meet you, Ollie. Even if we did meet because you broke into my shop and started robbing the place. Name's Jeff, although I guess you heard me say that earlier."
"Mm," he grunted again, still wolfing down the food.
"We're not done talking yet, but I'm going to give you a couple minutes to finish eating while I check on a few things in the back. You better not try to go anywhere."
"I won't," he stammered, after making a hasty attempt to swallow his food before speaking, obviously still a little frightened in his predicament.
I ducked into the back room to check on my staff's storage cubbies. It had dawned on me that some of them tend to accumulate their tip money in their boxes, and I wanted to make sure this kid didn't steal any of that. I took a few quick peeks into the boxes, while keeping half an eye on the beauty sitting at the table. He probably thought I was just making sure he didn't run, but I also just couldn't stop looking at him. Once I was satisfied that the kid probably hadn't stolen any tip money from my people, I returned to the table, reassured that the kid really was just looking for food when he broke in. That helped me to think that beneath the shiny exterior, the kid might also be a fairly decent person. And that just made him even more irresistible.
"Ok, kiddo, good news. I'm starting to believe you really are just a hungry kid in trouble who made a mistake here. Assuming I'm right about you, tell me how you're going to make it up to me."
"I don't have any money, or anything to give you, mister."
"Call me Jeff. And you wouldn't be the first guy who doesn't have a dime to his name. You know there's a way around that, right? It's called work."
"I know what work is, Jeff," he retorted, in that know-it-all bluster adolescent boys excel at to cover up their ignorance.
Trying my best not to sound like a lecturer, I replied, "Maybe you do, Ollie. I guess that means you already understand that whatever it is you're running away from, you're not going to make it in the adult world on your own unless you work for it. You might find a self-serving politician or two who will lie and tell you otherwise, but the world doesn't owe you a thing. Here's your chance to prove you know how to take responsibility and be an adult. You come back here tomorrow morning, by 9 o'clock. I'll put you to work for a few hours so you can make up for tonight, and I'll even feed you again. Do we have a deal?"
"Yeah, I guess I can do that," he said, finishing up the last bite.
"I'm going out on a limb to trust that you want to be a man of your word here, Oliver. So prove me right and be here at 9 o'clock sharp. One last question. Since you're technically going to be one of my employees, for a day anyway, you should know it's my business policy to make my people my number one priority. You don't have to share anything you're not ready to share about your situation, but just tell me, do you have a place to stay tonight?"
"I'll manage."
"That's not really an answer. No shame in being temporarily down on your luck, kid. Most of us hit a snag or two in life. I'd offer to let you stay at my place, but I don't know that either of us has earned the other's trust quite yet. There's a church just a couple blocks away, run by friends of mine, who keep a few rooms available for temporary shelter, no questions asked. Would you be ok with it if I walked over there with you and got you set up there for the night?"
"Is it like some creepy church that will try to get me to be a part of their weird cult or something?"
"Haha, no, nothing like that. They're a bunch of Franciscan brothers, you know, the guys who walk around with brown robes and sandles and talk to birds. Kind of like old school Catholic hippies, I guess. Totally harmless, loving bunch of people, not the sort who seem as though they're looking to check off converts on their Jesus Bingo cards or something."
This got a little chuckle out of him. The first time I'd seen the hint of a smile, and it made me melt. I'd bet this Adonis could sink ships just by flashing a smile. "I guess that would be okay," he shrugged, doing his best impression of a disinterested teenage boy.
"Ok then, Ollie, grab your stuff and let's head over to that church." As he silently got up to follow me out the door, I noticed he didn't exactly have 'stuff' to grab, other than the clothes he had on him. I made sure not to call attention to that, and proceeded to set the alarm (careful not to let him see the code), open the door, lead him out ahead of me, close and lock up the shop behind me. I'd come back later for my phone and wallet. We walked the two blocks to the church in silence. It wasn't terribly late at night, but it was dark, and the only activity in town this time of night was a couple blocks the other way, where all the bars are. As we walked up to the back door of the church, I took Ollie gently by the shoulder, directing him to stand at my side, as I reached out to ring the doorbell. I kept my arm around him, firmly but reassuringly holding him around the shoulder, saying "Don't worry, I'll do the talking for you. I promise they don't bite, and they ask even fewer questions than I do."
The door opened, and a robe-and-sandals wearing friar about my age opened the door. "Well, hi Jeff. Good to see you again. What can we do for you?"
"Good evening, Brother James. I stumbled upon this young man here as I was closing up my shop for the night. Just a good kid in need of a place to stay the night. Do you have room?"
"Well, this young man must have someone up there looking out for him, because we just had a room open up this afternoon. Both of you, come on in so we don't let more of this summer heat inside." I gently ushered Ollie through the door, and we followed Brother James into the small lounge immediately inside. "Have a seat here while I go prepare the room. I'll be back in a couple minutes."
We sat in silence for a minute or so while I gazed at a painting of Mary and baby Jesus on the wall and Ollie self-consciously stared at his feet. Finally, doing his best to demonstrate his age by not looking up or making eye contact, Ollie mumbled, "Um, Jeff? Thanks for, you know..."
"You don't need to thank me, Ollie. Like I said, I've got a soft spot for kids like you. But I do expect you to show me the kind of man you really are and show up tomorrow morning."
This time, I got him to actually look up and make eye contact as he replied, "I will, sir."
Just then, Brother James came back into the room. Ollie and I stood up, and as Brother James approached Ollie, he looked into the kid's eyes with the kind of gaze a deeply spiritual man has that makes you feel as though he is peering deep into your soul. "What's your name, son?"
"Oliver."
"Oliver, you are most welcome to stay here tonight. Follow me, and I'll show you to your room. Good night, Jeff." He turned to walk toward the room, as Ollie followed along.
Ollie paused briefly to turn back toward me. "Good night, Jeff. I'll see you tomorrow at 9 o'clock."
"Good night, Ollie. And thank you Brother James."
As Ollie walked away, I savored the stunning view, his loose shorts continuing to cling to his amazing rear-end just right. That painting was now to my right, and from my peripheral vision, I felt Mary staring at me, making me think maybe I was being a little blasphemous to have my eyes glued to this kid's backside while standing in a church. But hey, why would God create such beauty if He didn't want it to be appreciated, right? I took the moment to draw myself a mental picture that could last, sighed contentedly, turned around and walked out into the night, saying a little prayer that I would get to see my beautiful burglar boy again.
TO BE CONTINUED...