JOHN DARLING'S COMA
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Thursday morning, John wakes up at the sound of his phone's alarm; it's six A.M. He sits up in bed and calls Gary, who answers the second ring, "Good morning, Darling. Thanks for calling, but I can't talk for more than a minute. A fellow student is picking me up to get to the training center early so we can quiz each other on some complicated computer shit from class yesterday. Sorry about that, but how are you?"
"I'm good, Gary, but I miss you. It feels like a long time since I've been with you." Then he gets an idea and says, "Oh, wait. I want to weigh myself and report to you my progress," and he gets out of bed and pads into the bathroom. Standing on the scale, he excitedly said, "Holy shit! I weigh 153, but that's before I a morning crap, so..." He said that in a thick, juicy lisp, so they both laughed.
Gary says, "Damn, you're getting fat, and I'm getting skinny. It's a weird thing, but I'm not even hungry anymore. I hardly eat anything, jogging three miles during lunch hour, and I don't know how much, but I'm losing my fat! Haha, you won't recognize me."
"Oh, man! I can't wait to see you, but don't lose any more weight, Gary! I'm crazy about you as you were."
Gary says, "Jeez, Darling, that's so nice of you, and, jeez, I didn't expect to miss you this much. Um, but I already told you that, didn't I? Anyway, I'm seriously proud of you. All of this is surprising me, you and me, I mean and everything. Surprising me in a wonderful way. You're a special boyfriend, ain'tcha, pretty boy?"
"That's right, I'm special, Gary. Um, is it this weekend I can visit you?"
"Haha, you know damn well it's a week from this coming Saturday, and I'm looking forward to that as much as you, but I gotta go now. Anthony just texted that he's waiting for me in the lobby. I'll talk to you tomorrow, pretty boy. Bye..."
John didn't bother saying 'bye' because Gary had already ended the connection. Without thinking about doing it, John grabbed his dick and squeezed, thinking, 'It's getting to be a serious thing between Gary and me. Neither one of us expected it would get serious, and neither of us understands it, but it feels real to me. Damn, feels good too."
He doesn't have work today, so he takes a piss while thinking about taking a shit, then doesn't. Instead, he pads back to the bedroom, gets in bed, and, not horny, feeling good about things, smiling, goes back to sleep. When he's awake again, it's nine-thirty. Yawning, he turns over onto his stomach and daydreams about sucking Gary's fatter-than-makes-any-sense penis. Grinning, he practices opening his mouth as wide as he can a few times, then reaches under himself to pull on his dick.
Sure, he'd like to get fucked right now; he slept naked as if he might have sex in the morning. Haha, sex with himself is more like it. The important thing John notices is that he isn't climbing the walls horny.
That's a change for him, so he wonders about that. That guy at the college dorm, George, fucking him last night was good but far from spectacular. Andy fucks him much better than George or Clarence. It's not that George and Clarence suck at fucking, not at all. It's more the fact that John, while he doesn't dislike either of those guys, doesn't like them in any special way. The same thing applies to that cute kid, William, at the gay club. He fucked John in the men's room, which was pretty cool, but nothing special when compared to Gary fucking him or how much he likes Andy doing it.
So yeah, as he concluded yesterday, the degree he likes his tops has a lot to do with how much he likes their sex together. Still, the worse fuck he ever had was pretty damn good. The worst one was either that one and only time Dickie fucked him and Andy at the same time or, no, it was that time with the little friend of Andy's who drove a hearse. He forgets the five-foot-tall kid's name, but the kid fucked three guys, Andy, another kid, and John, at the same time. Haha, and the guy was not only wicked short, but he also had a very short penis. Holy shit, haha!
Sure, John Darling loves taking a hard cock up his ass. He's enjoyed all the tops in his life; it's just that none of his other random tops was as good as Andy fucking him or, for that matter, Brian O'Neal fucking him during his Junior year at Duke University. And now, better than all the rest, is the best dominant top of all; John's best fucks ever are from fat Gary Thomas. Hugging Gary's pillow, John asks out loud, "Why is that?"
He thought about that, thought about why Gary had become so important to him, but finally had to give up trying to pinpoint one specific reason for Gary being his best top... ever. Gary is a dominant, confident guy with a very fat cock, and he knows how to use it. That's an excellent basis for a great top, but there's something else, too. That mysterious 'something' is what makes Gary better than all the rest. That 'something' is what John can't identify.
Thinking about Gary gets John squirming on the bed, clenching his rectum and buttocks muscles and getting his hard cock throbbing. Then he thinks about Gary losing twenty-five or thirty pounds and not qualifying any longer as 'fat' Gary. Oddly, John wasn't sure he'd like Gary losing too much weight; he liked him being fat when John first met him. What? That's weird...
Gary's been working at losing weight the entire time he's been John's boyfriend, which hasn't been that long... a little over three weeks, or is it a month? It's been special, and John thinks about how handsome Gary is under his thick, stiff, black-as-night beard. He kept his beard short at about an inch long, but John doesn't care for facial hair, especially when it's as prominent as Gary's lumberjack beard.
Flipping over on his back, John squeezes his boner and visualizes the last time Gary fucked him. He groans and changes his mind about using the dildo. He says aloud, "Gary expects me to wear that. It's for both our benefits."
Yes, using the dildo when jerking off will benefit both because when Gary's back fucking John using the dildo when jerking off will keep John's anus used to open stupidly wide to accommodate Gary's fatter-than-makes-any-sense boner. It'll keep John's anus used to intrusions with a prodigious girth.
John strokes his boner twice, then gets out of bed and gets the dildo from the top shelf in the bedroom closet, then gets the K-Y tube from the bedside table and hops back in bed excited to do this. Lubing his asshole, finger fucking himself for a minute, groaning, and feeling his dick throb. Then, with a gasp, he pulls his finger out and twists in the dildo, doing it the way Gary does it. Twist, twist, twist as his anus opens wider and wider, the dildo getting fatter and fatter the further it goes inside him.
When it begins getting very uncomfortable, John marks the spot with his index finger and pulls the dildo out. Looking at it, he frowns. Fuck! His finger marks the circumference of the dildo when it starts hurting at four inches. John mutters, "What?" Four inches isn't even at the average circumference for a male erection, which is a circumference of four and a little more than a half inch, and Gary is bigger than average!
The average male erection is a little over five inches long with a circumference of about four and a half inches; a tad more than that, actually. Gary's boner is the other way around in that it's more like four inches long and five and a half inches around. It's fat!
John mutters aloud, "I've got to spend more time with this dildo." With his dick turning flaccid, John forces himself to put up with the hurt, twisting the dildo in as far as he can stand it, but he never gets it into the five-inch circumference mark, never mind five and a half. It hurts too much. Again, speaking aloud, John asks, "So how am I able not only to stand Gary's five-and-a-half-inch circumference boner, but love how it feels inside me, and yet I can't, no matter how hard I try, stand even a five-inch circumference dildo inside me?
Whaaat?
Determined to jerk off, lying on his side, he reaches back, screwing the dildo up his well-lubricated ass almost to the five inches mark. Taking a few deep breaths, not daring to move except to stroke his cock, he strokes it, sensations mounting and mounting until he's not thinking about the dildo but pretends it's Gary fucking him, and soon his eyes scrunch closed as he strokes, strokes his boner... "AHH!" cum shoots out his hard boner to streak across the sheets.
"Oh, oh, " reaching back, he pulls the dildo out an inch, relaxes, moaning, "Umm," and then pulls the dildo out entirely and rolls over on his stomach, thinking how fucked up that was. After lying there for a while, John takes a deep breath, then mutters, "I've got to take a shit," and that's what he does... "Ahhh..."
Wiping his ass, John thinks, 'Maybe Gary's boner isn't as big around as we thought it was.'
After washing his hands, he goes back into the bedroom and begins pulling the sheets off the bed. Dropping the sperm-soiled sheets in the laundry basket, he makes up the bed with fresh linens, then washes the dildo, thinking, 'I'll use the dildo regularly. It probably won't help, but it couldn't hurt, right?' I won't overdo it.'
Not especially pleased with the dildo-jerk-off; still, amazingly, it doesn't motivate John to think about getting fucked. That is unusual for him because, since he came out of his coma, John has been a fuck-slut, fucking as often as he could find a willing partner. He says, "What's up with that?"
Again, he isn't giving a thought to a 'top' who maybe will fuck him, and this is a new development. As he thought earlier, it might have something to do with the fact that his sex partner 'tops' other than Gary Thomas hasn't compared with sex with Gary. BO Clarence and unremarkable George simply can't compare to Gary. Sure, the one time that Andy gave John a pity fuck was great. However, he has refused to do it with John again because he's being loyal to Dickie.
Then John smiles, thinking about the Purple Club and the eighteen-year-old, cuter-than-shit William with the seven-inch boner who fucked him in the Club's lavatory's toilet stall. Damn, John is more likely to go back to the club than search out the other tops he had, except he isn't doing that either... He's too enthralled by Gary Thomas.
John's most surprising sexual omission is his not giving a thought of flying to Durham, North Carolina, to be with his old roommate, Brian O'Neal. Brian was an excellent 'top' for John, but John mysteriously lacked any sense of urgency to see him. When he thought of that, it startled him! What?
Anyway, while brushing his teeth, John tries thinking about something other than sex. Not being able to think of what to do today gives him that lonely feeling again, and his eyes sting as he feels sorry for himself again, but he shakes his head and mutters, "Grow up Darling!"
Getting dressed, he decides he'll drive to his parents' house to see if Andy wants to do something. It won't be sex, but John wants companionship more than sex if he can even believe he honestly feels like that, but it's true, he does. He isn't calling Andy to see if he wants to do something because it'll be too easy for Andy to say no.
Andy might try to avoid John because John has been known to nag for Andy to fuck him, and Andy doesn't want to do that but doesn't have much willpower. He doesn't need to worry, though, because John isn't going to nag him from now on. John will need to prove to Andy that there'll be no nagging. The only way to prove it is to be with Andy and don't nag him. That's John's plan.
Hell, he was fucked last night and jerked off this morning. "I'm not a sex maniac. I don't need to be fucked ten times a day. I'll show Andy and Gary I'm normal or close to normal," he muttered all that out loud with a grin, as he wasn't sure he believed it himself... yet.
He's probably fooling himself, but he remembers Gary inferring how odd it is that John couldn't go a couple of weeks without having sex. It's as if there's something wrong with him because of that, so John is going to prove to himself and Gary and everybody that he can go a while without being fucked, and be okay with it.
And again, speaking aloud, he mutters, "Before I do anything else, I need to keep my promise to exercise and lift weights. I'm starting to feel good after doing that."
He does the exercises perfectly, the way Gary showed him, doing them as if Gary is watching. Sit-ups, push-ups, and squats. After that, he promises himself to increase the repetition for each exercise, adding ten to each exercise on Monday. Then, with an eye roll, because he doesn't like doing this, he drags the free weight from the hall closet, sighs, and then lifts for a half hour. As he did with the exercises, he does the lifting correctly, promising himself he'll increase the weights for each weight lifting exercise on Monday, too.
Shaking his head, grinning again, he mutters, "Most people would do the exercises and so forth BEFORE showering. You're different, Darling. Numbnuts!"
After washing up in the bathroom, feeling very hungry, he gets in his pickup truck and drives to Burger King for a two-thousand-calorie breakfast and has no problem eating every part of it; then, on the way to his house, he stops at a Dunkin' for two medium coffees and four iced donuts: two strawberry frosted and two chocolate frosted. The coffee and donuts will be his reason for coming unannounced to visit Andy. You know, I was in the neighborhood, and bullshit, bullshit, bullshit... blah, blah, blah.
At the Cheyenne house, John carries the bag of breakfast goodies to the front door and rings the bell. He now feels nervous just showing up like this. Andy answers the door and smiles brightly, saying, "Darling! It's so nice of you to drop by." He leans over and gives John a quick kiss, then points at the bag, asking, "Um, what do you have there, honey?"
Smiling, John says, "I drove by that Dunkin' on Blossom Street and thought I'd treat you to a morning snack. It's Dunkin' coffees and donuts. Can I come in? I don't want to intrude or anything."
"What the fuck? Haha, oh my goodness, what are you talking about, sweetheart? This is your house! You can't intrude on your own house. I'm the one intruding, although with your blessings, and I love you for it. Of course, come in! Jesus!"
John nods, "Oh, okay," and he goes inside where Andy lisps, "Omigod, this is a treat. Let me see what's in the bag," and he takes it, opens it, and says, "Ooh! I love frosted Dunkin's donuts. Let's go in the kitchen, Johnny."
This is turning out great! John excitedly says, "Sure, um, I hope I'm not interrupting anything you were doing. Ah, how was the concert last night?"
"Sit at the table, Johnny, and, no, you're not interrupting anything. I was just combing out my new permanent and putting some subtle makeup on, the kind that Dickie likes me to wear."
Nodding, John says, "Your hair looks nice. Very girlie..."
Andy's getting small dishes out of a cabinet, then puts two donuts on each dish, saying, "Dickie said I was beautiful when he first saw my new hair permanent, all curly and everything. We all know I'm not beautiful, but that was nice to hear just the same. He's such a romantic. Um, so what are doing today, Darling?"
Then, before John can answer with another lie, Andy wants to be the perfect hostess, asking, "Do you want a China cup for your coffee?"
Shaking his head, John says, "You're getting very domestic, I see. Um, no thanks for the cup. I'll drink my coffee from the cardboard cup Dunkin' put it in. And I don't have any plans for today that couldn't be changed, but listen to this..." and he tells Andy about his extra workday, working Wednesdays now."
Pouring his coffee into a China cup, Andy says, "Well, congratulations, Darling! Dickie told me all about that last night, and I think he's being such a good boss to you by having a couple of beers with you after work. Oh, my goodness, though, Dickie loves your friendship, so don't think he's just improving employee morale. He still enjoys your friendship."
"Whaat?"
Andy sips some coffee, then says, "Dickie told me some of the incidences growing up with you when you'd get in trouble or get lost or something, and Dickie needed to get you out of all the jams you'd get in. It's so sweet the way he looked out for you... blah, blah, blah..."
John gobbles his two donuts and drinks his coffee, listening to Andy describing how fabulous Dickie is. "Dickie is so proud of how he took care of you, and I know how excellent it can feel. Hell, I loved taking care of you, too. That was the best thing I've ever done, actually, and now fate is rewarding me. I'd never have met Dickie if not for taking care of you... nursing you, ya know?"
Eyeing the strawberry frosted donut on Andy's plate, John mutters, "You were fantastic taking care of me after my coma, Andy. Um, aren't you going to eat that donut?"
Andy pushes the plate toward John, "No, you can have it. I'm allergic to berries, although it's probably artificial flavoring. Anyway, because of you, I get to be Dickie Marshall's boyfriend and bottom boy. I don't want to brag, but I've never been," his eyes are wide, and he looks around as if someone is trying to overhear their conversation, which is ridiculous. Andy makes an exaggerated girlie-facial expression with fingers to his lips, whispering, lisping juicily, "I've never been fucked as good as Dickie does it. That's between us girls, Johnny."
John swallows a mouthful of the last super sweet strawberry frosted donut, mumbling, "Um, who would I tell?"
"You've lived here all your life, so you must know a lot of guys."
Swallowing the last of the donut, John shakes his head, "No, not really," and then tells Andy about how Gary fucks him better than anyone, "Andy, you're the second best; Gary is the best, obviously. I don't know what I'd have done without you, though."
"My pleasure, Johnny. Um, why is Gary the best, though? If you don't mind me asking."
"What? Oh, um, Gary somehow takes anal intercourse to levels of erotica I never knew existed, and let me tell you, not to brag or anything, but my ex-roommate was pretty good too, but he isn't in the same, blah, blah, blah..."
Andy's like, "Seriously? Well, my Dickie can blah, blah, blah..." as they try out-bragging about their boyfriends.
Andy stands to clear the table, acting feminine, lisping, "Let me clear these dirty dishes, sweetheart. I try to keep my kitchen emasculate."
John drinks the last of his coffee and pushes the paper Dunkin' cup toward Andy as Andy tells him, "I'm making dinner for Dickie again tonight," then pointing to a bouquet of flowers, "My man brings flowers when he's eating with me."
"Oh, can I come, too?"
Andy looks as if he's in pain, saying, "Oh, Johnny, I know this is your house and everything, but Dickie usually spends the night with me. If you were here too, it would be awkward for you, ya know?"
John shrugs, "No, I wouldn't mind, but I don't want to ruin the evening for you two."
"Thanks, Johnny. Hey, do you want to have lunch with me? I'll make up your pretty face, and I know another restaurant in Fort Collins that we'll definitely fit in with the other gay patrons. It's a Vegan restaurant, but some of the food is good."
Johnny's nodding his head, "Yeah, great! I'd like to eat some vegan food, Andy."
"Well, come upstairs with me, and I'll make you even more beautiful than you already are."
Following Andy upstairs, John says, "No, that's okay. You don't need to bother, but thanks."
Ignoring John's protest, Andy guides him into the bedroom John had slept in the past fifteen years that now Andy and Dickie claim as their own. Andy has John sit at the desk that used to be his, lisping, "I plucked your eyebrows perfectly, Johnny. Has anyone mentioned anything about them?"
"My eyebrows? Um, no, nobody noticed, I guess. Um, what's that smell?"
"Oh, bought one of those air fresheners that squirt out every minute or so. It's because the bedroom smelled like ass after Dickie fucks me a couple of times before going to sleep."
"What?"
"And he was supposed to ask you if it's alright for us to paint our bedroom. Dickie wants to paint our bedroom dark red. He said that is a sexy color."
Noticing the expression on John's face, Andy's like, "Oh, like I said, we'd ask you if it's okay."
"Yeah, it's okay. Dark red sounds really cool for a bedroom."
Standing next to John, who is sitting in the desk chair, Andy hugs around John's neck, kisses him, then says, "You're the sweetest, most perfect friend, Johnny. I love you!" They kiss, John's arms going around Andy as their tongues slide together. Gasping for oxygen, John murmurs, "Fuck me, Andy..."
Pulling away, Andy says, "C'mon, Darling, we promised not to do that anymore. We've got boyfriends we're loyal to, right? We're awesome friends who love each other as awesome friends, so kissing is okay. We're kissing gay friends, and it might be alright if you wanted to blow me. That's sex, of course, but I think...."
"No, you're right, Andy. Anyway, I'm not nagging. No, um, having you and Dickie as my two best friends is a blessing. I do not want to fuck that up, and I'm flying to Wyoming a week from Saturday to see Gary. We're both looking forward to that, and I want a clear conscience for that, so thanks for reminding me about, you know, not fucking."
Andy mumbles, "No more talk about that, then," and he runs a comb through John's hair, asking, "What the hell did you put in your hair? It won't move."
John touches his hair, "It's a hair gel that dries stiff. It's to keep the bangs up in front and the hair combed forward and down on top. Don't you like it?"
"Actually, it's cuter than baby kittens, except it's a hairdo for twelve-year-old boys, not twenty-two-year-old guys."
"I won't be twenty-two for another two weeks. Wait a second! I'm turning twenty-two on the Saturday I'll be in Montana! Holy shit, I should bring a birthday cake with me."
"Get up, baby, and I'll shampoo the gel from your hair." John gets up and goes with Andy as Andy says, "Well, Dickie and I want to celebrate your birthday, too."
"Oh, fuck, Gary will have a shit fit if the three of us pop in on him."
Inside the hall bathroom, Andy says, "Lean over the sink, sweetie." John does that, and Andy cups handfuls of water to wet John's hair, saying, "I didn't mean we'd go to Montana with you. Jeez, Johnny, get a clue! I meant the Friday before we'll have a birthday dinner at my, um, here, at your house. You know, if it's okay with you."
Then he uses the plastic glass for rinsing out after brushing his teeth to fill up and pour on John's head, who says, "Oh, uh-huh, I'd like that. Thanks."
They don't talk as Andy shampoos John's hair, uses the bathroom glass to pour glass after glass of water on John's head, rinses out the shampoo, and then dries John's hair with the hairdryer from under the sink that John occasionally used when he lived here prior to his accident and coma. This entire process was to get John's bangs to lie on his forehead, hoping it looked slightly girlie to go with the subtle makeup Andy planned on doing for John's beautiful face.
Combing John's bangs down, Andy mumbles, "Whoever cut your hair after I cut it fucked up your bangs, but I'll fluff them, and they'll have that casual I-don't-give-a-fuck look. That'll look sexy on you, Johnny. It'd never work for me but for you... Uh-huh."
John, looking in the mirror over the sink, mutters, "It looks silly, but..."
Andy pulls on John's arm, "C'mon back to the bedroom," and in the bedroom, Andy puts his Red Sox baseball cap on John's head backward, covering most of his head except the fucked-up bangs in front. John nods, "Oh, it doesn't look so bad now. It's kind of cool."
With John sitting on the desk chair again, Andy uses a touch of eyebrow pencil, and before John can complain, Andy drops the pencil and wraps his arms around John's neck, getting into a wild, out-of-control make-out lasting three or four minutes, both guys groping the other and ending with a fumbled attempt by John to pull Andy's zipper down.
Then, making a face, Andy's annoyed that John fumbled at getting his zipper down, so Andy pulled it down and fished out his firm cock that John immediately bent over and sucked into his mouth. Then dropping to his knees off the desk chair, John sucks, licks, and hums on Andy's cock until it's a raging boner, throbby and leaking precum.
John somehow gets his hard cock out and strokes it as he covers his teeth and goes down on Andy's iron boner. Andy moans, messing John's hair, the baseball cap knocked off. The third time John goes down on Andy's boner that's pointing straight up, Andy's hard cock head goes into John's throat very tightly, then again, and again as the guys squeal together and blow their climax loads. Andy's load goes down John's throat, and John's cum shot hits Andy's jeans on his left leg's knee. A big splat of gooey cum.
Backing off Andy's hard penis, John gulps Andy's cum load, swallowing, then swallowing again, having a little trouble getting it all down because it's so gooey and creamy, but the third swallow clears the cum from his throat. John sits back on his heels, taking deep breaths, feeling dizzy but good. Both of them had an excellent orgasm, and that made John feel good. Obviously, John has always liked climaxing with his good friend and nurse, Andy Salsbury.
Andy is waving his hand near his face, fanning himself, saying, "Oh, boy, that was awesomely random, Johnny. Whoa, though, you really should give me a heads up, hee-hee, no pun intended, whenever you plan to attack my penis like that, not that it wasn't delightful because it was."
Standing, John mutters, "Oh, I thought it was you who attacked me, not that that's a problem. It felt good, Andy, and I'm sorry I made a mess on your jeans."
Andy looks down and mutters, "Balls," and, looking up, "I didn't know you did that, but no problem. I've got another pair of pants."
Putting his dick back in his pants, smiling at how good it feels nestled in the cool, silky girlie panties; John says, "Just so you know, Andy, my boyfriend Gary considers sucking cock as 'having sex.' "
Andy snorts out, "No shit..." He laughs so hard he's bending over, his arms holding his stomach."
John's grinning, not sure what's so funny, asking his favorite question, "What?"
Tears in his eyes, Andy's laughter dies out, and, smiling at John, he says, "Of course, blowjobs are sex acts. You are so funny sometimes, Johnny."
John isn't grinning now, saying, "Don't fucking make fun of me, okay? I never said it wasn't a sex act. It's just, um, that old white president way back in history didn't think blowjobs were 'having sex.' I read it online, and I think the guy is still alive, probably having none-sex regularly, even at his advanced age."
Taking a deep breath, Andy says, "Sit in the chair, Darling. Um, honey, I don't know what the fuck you're talking about. Some president, I guess, but listen! I was NOT making fun of you! It was your friendly, funny way of saying that Gary said blowjobs were sex acts. It struck me funny, is all. Don't be so sensitive."
"I am not sensitive, Andy!"
"Okay, okay. Listen to me! Johnny, there are very few people in this world who love you as much as I do. Never forget that. In fact, I've never had a friend I loved as much as I love you."
"What about Dickie?"
"Oh, Johnny, now you're mixing up loving a friend and being in love. I'm not in love yet, but I'm getting there with Dickie. And the other thing is I don't know Dickie well enough to love him as a friend. In time... maybe that too."
"Oh, okay, then. I liked hearing that part about loving me more than anybody and all that. And, except for Dickie Marshall, who you just referenced, I can say the same thing about you, meaning, except for him, except for me loving Dickie more than you, I love you best as a friend."
Picking up the eyebrow pencil, Andy mumbles, "Second best, right? Um, this conversation is giving me a headache."
"Yeah, me too."
Andy holds John's head steady with his left hand and squints, his face close to John's as he carefully draws a line in each of John's eyebrows. That little addition, then an added touch of eye shadow, now John's eyes scream... ladies' makeup!
And when Andy uses the eyebrow curler or whatever it's called, John's curved eyelashes and his eye makeup scream 'Drag Queen!'
Andy, his face close to John's, carefully adds pale lipstick to John's lips, murmuring, "I've barely made you up, Johnny, but you look gorgeous. It's mostly your natural looks, obviously, but the touches of makeup I've added, plus the 'I don't give a fuck' look of your bangs, elevate your beauty, you lucky bastard you. I'm wicked jealous."
John mumbles, "I'm used to hearing you say 'wicked' this and 'wicked' that, but nobody in Wyoming ever says that. Just so you know..."
"Whaat?"
Frowning, John picks up the handheld mirror and gawks at himself, mumbling, "I look like one of those guys who look like a woman in a gay show."
Andy mumbles, "If you mean like a RuPaul drag queen dinner show, you don't look anything like those guys. Gawd! All the trouble I go through, and you dump on my efforts."
"Is Ru the guy's first name?"
Andy breathes noisily through his nose, then sounding exasperated, "What difference does it make, sweetheart? You look beautiful; let's leave it at that."
John shrugs, "I appreciate everything you do for me, Andy, I really do. It's just that I personally think I look better without makeup, although, yeah, it's fun fucking around with it. Everything is fun when I'm doing it with you, but going out in the real world looking like this, um, not that there is anything wrong with that, but it's a bit of a problem for me; that's all I'm saying..."
Andy's applying eyebrow pencil much more noticeably on his own eyebrows, mumbling, "Stop your complaining, Darling. Sit there and be quiet while I do this."
John sits, grinning and groping his junk, liking Andy's tone of voice. "Well, Andy, I didn't mean to complain."
"I know, Johnny, but just sit there while I finish, okay?" Looking over at John, Andy smiles and adds, "My sweetest, best buddy ever."
"Um, nah, I'm not going to sit here watching you put makeup on. I'll be outside smoking a cigarette."
"You can smoke in here, Johnny."
"What? Oh, I said it was alright, didn't I? Um, but I meant only in the basement bar area. I'll be outside."
Andy stops applying makeup and says to Johnny, "Gary is not doing a good job taking care of you! You used to do what you were told, but now instead, you're more likely to give back talk."
John has his box of Marlboro red in his hand, standing and saying, "Hey, I do what Gary tells me when it makes sense, but he isn't fixated on me doing what I'm told like you are. And, no offense intended, Andy, but Gary's better for me than anybody else. That doesn't mean I don't love and appreciate everything you've done for me."
"Okay, I'm ALWAYS thinking what's best for you, Johnny. Nobody else is like that, no matter what you may think. Just saying..."
John walks out of the bedroom, saying, "Yes, uh-huh, but I'm beginning to realize I know what's best for me, Andy, but, as I said, I appreciate everything you've done for me. Next to Dickie, I've never had a better friend than you."
Yelling after John, Andy calls out, "You don't realize how affected your thinking is from all the trauma you've been through. I'm going to have a tough talk with Gary about how he's letting you down."
John stopped on the stairs so he could hear the end of Andy's rant. It made John smile and feel good that Andy still cared about him so much, but he couldn't think of what to say in response, so he didn't say anything.
Then, outside, he lights a cigarette, feeling a little pissed off that Gary's not here to stick up for him. Exhaling, he says out loud, "Hey, dummy! You just stuck up for yourself! That's even better."
Hmm, is John's first indication of self-confidence a good development or a misguided one?
To be continued... donnymumford@outlook.com
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