orangetoughguy | log post II

[Freddy's been waiting all night. The dinner they were going to have together (tacos) he had to eat alone. The movie they could have watched together (Rambo) he's watching with a toucan. The buzzard's ten for ten so far in catching his grapes, who knew such a huge bill could be so quick.]

You're really on the ball, buddy.

[Unlike some people who aren't around. He can't be mad at Larry, not completely, showing up or even calling him would be too obvious. But he also knows the old man likes to show a lady a good time so he wouldn't be so callous as to bail out only a half hour into the venture. What are those strippers doing, he wonders, would any of them be bold enough to give the old man a lap dance? Girls at mens clubs do it for lady patrons all the time. Just thinking about it makes Freddy huff. He tosses another grape at Sam who catches it in midair without a hitch.]

Think you can fit a phone in there? [When was the last time he got a message from Larry from the club? Hmph.]

[The network device has been in the old man's hand for a majority of the evening. To check the time and give what updates he can. Being at this kind of a bar it makes him anxious. All this time he's been able to fill out and dip into more confident territories with Freddy, as bold as it's been it's been a very private exploration.

Another message is in order. PING!]

Should be leaving soon.

[Oh look, a message from that one guy. Freddy gives it a look before replying. PING!]

OK.

[Got anything to say Sam? He looks over at the bird. Yeah didn't think so fff.]

[Okay sure doesn't feel like it's okay. He didn't even type out the whole damn word. Larry lights himself up another cigarette and thinks over whether or not to respond. ...This might be a bigger deal than he hoped it would be. Woah, cowboy. How can you expect it to be nothing much though. What if the kid wanted to go?

Huff of a sigh. PING!]

Want me to pick up anything on the way?

[He's thinking food or smokes. Maybe booze but in the context it might not be a good idea to send...which is something he considers after the message goes out.]

[Pick up anything on the way he says.]

No. I ate.

[E-e-e-ee-e-e-e. The toucan hops to sit on the kid's shoulder and stare down at the device like he can stare at Larry through it.]

[That may as well just be no. They say you can't tell shit from these network devices well, the old man is getting some kind of a feeling. Maybe it's because it's far more clipped than Freddy's standard way of communicating.

Should he type sorry? Nah. Wait now. Nothin' is more off putting than an apology over the phone or in a letter. He'll be there soon.

The network device stays at hand anyway. Homeward bound!]

[What, no reply? That's almost as bad as an apology in this kid's mind but maybe he's just overreacting. Yeah Newendyke, have you considered that? After all you're not exactly Joe Public around here, can you blame Larry for going out on his own? They go out on their own sometimes, nothing doing. Right.

The toucan hops to the kid's other side to continue watching the movie. Watching and learning, this bird.]

[No reply for now. They say their goodbyes and pleasantries. The old man then sends out the next message. PING!]

Be there in about ten.

[He shouldn't feel bad about it. Freddy goes out places, sees people. Hell, he still sees that dick now and then doesn't he? It's nothing and nothing. Except the old man's damn sure that they don't go to any nudie bars. Another cigarette now.]

[While that dick's never taken him to a nudie bar Freddy can't say that dick's never invited him to one. Sure a cabaret of Indonesian exoticism in the tradition of Mata Hari isn't the typical nudie bar...it's still a nudie bar. He never told Larry that did he?]

OK.

[Nevertheless the kid is home and waiting. Huff huff. Come on Newendyke don't get mad just because you're not as public as you'd like to be. That's the problem ain't it?]

[Why no, no he didn't hear about that. In his head it'd still be some kind of an illicit invite. One that sure isn't Vegas grade entertainment like they saw but in the same league.

Keys jingle as he unlocks the door. The old man wore a suit, a work standard nothing special at all. It doesn't surprise him that the kid is there, the TV is on and the bird is watching.]

Hey.

Hey.

[Freddy waves from the couch but he keeps his caramel greens glued to the screen. It's the buzzard who turns his beaky face at Lawrence Dimick and croaks. Surprise, the bird can mimic machine gun fire. Er-r-rr-re-r-er. The things you learn from Rambo.]

[Woah. Wait. Hey. He wanted to watch Rambo. Well, Freddy wanted to watch it too right? And the old man had plans. ....Yep.]

Hey to you too Sam.

[Since he's the most talkative. Larry takes off his blazer and puts it over his arm.]

How far in are you?

[The movie that is. He's coming around to join the beaky duo.]

It's almost done but you can start it over when we're through.

['We' being the boy and the bird.]

Ain't you tired? Worn out? Broke?

Would you catch it again?

[With this motherfucker right beside you? Larry puts his feet up and loosens his tie. That's a weird line of questioning, kid.]

I'm a little tired from the whole day. Not worn out and certainly not broke.

So what you didn't have fun? Not up to your standards? Tell me all about it.

[Freddy turns in his seat to face Larry next to him. He's on all fours now but it looks nothing like what he did the other night. He may or may not maul him right then and there. Who knows. These green eyes aren't telling. The toucan's giving him a beady look too.]

Well...

[Don't. Smile. Larry. He rubs the side of his mouth with his thumb and tilts it to one side to distort any beginning of a grin.]

Not as different as a titty bar, the crowd sure's different. Felt like I stuck out like a sore thumb. So uh...wasn't no walk in the park. But uh I wasn't rushing off to the John or nothing.

[Brown eyes set on him, on all fours could be predatory.]

[Don't think he can't detect a smile wanting to pop up.]

What the women weren't all over you because you weren't asking for tips?

[See Freddy knows the difference between a male nudie bar for girls and a male nudie bar for boys. The former presents the biggest pool of candidates within Lawrence Dimick's known interests. Freddy knows that too.]

Anybody treat you to a lap dance?

Women weren't all over me because I was there with another woman...and all the other men folk were greased up, in the buff and moving like Mexican jumping beans.

[Also they were younger on average. This one guy looked like he might have had a few more years on him. All the flashing lights it's hard to tell.

...is this question a test? Larry tilts his head to one side in a manner that Sam usually does for a good stare down.]

No, sir.

[Freddy stares at Larry as only a toucan can. Hrm. He wouldn't lie to him, not over something trivial like this. Though he smells like a strip club he doesn't smell like he's been stripped. Now the question is...why?]

I find that hard to believe.

[The women or the men not being all over him? Both. Who wouldn't want to get their hands on one Larry Dimick? Maybe Freddy's just past the phase where twenty-somethings cringe at the thought of forty-pluses (unless said forty-plus gent has lots of money and decent good looks). Huh, in Freddy's opinion Larry satisfies both criteria. So why not? Very curious indeed. Oh wait, maybe this is a word game.]

Did you get one for free? [It's all in the details. He's crawling over the old man's lap now.] Just a little bumping and grinding?

[Uh oh. It wasn't a complete lie but it's too fucking late now. Too fucking late. Larry licks his lips.]

Angie got one. And uh the fella dipped over my way for awhile. Not a whole song.

[That's a yes, Freddy. He swallows and now gets to look up at the man perched on him.]

[Now these eyes are narrowing again.]

Tricky. Real tricky. Did you think I wasn't gonna get the truth out of you? [He's a cop you know.] Sam.

[Talk about authoritative, or maybe the beak and the buzzard already worked out a plan but hop hop and in the toucan goes, tucked up cozy in his cage. Freddy meanwhile starts moving his hips to a silent rhythm...with Stallone still punishing ass in the background.]

So what'd he do to you? [Anything like what the kid's doing now?]

Oh shit. [The physical response is almost automatic. All that visual stimulation and tension, playing the cool guy and not getting wound up....]

C'mon now, baby. Not much to talk about.

[Again he licks his lips and wonders if he's gonna be allowed to lay hands on the kid.]

Just...rubbing up on me and [the um is a groan] really working his whole body into the motion. He kept lookin' at me.

[Like he knew something.]

We got shit to talk about.

[Accusations like "You went without me." and "You didn't even invite me." could fly around here but Freddy doesn't want to be a jealous girlfriend--er, guy, however he doesn't want to let Larry off the hook so easily either. The old man should already know why the kid might feel overlooked or whatever it is he's trying to express by grinding on his lap. Yep. Stellar communication here Newendyke.]

Yeah? How? Was he better lookin'? ["Than me."] The kind of beefed up body who fucks housewives and office girls and maybe a little cock on the side.

[Remember the rules, Lawrence Dimick, you're not supposed to put your hands on the dancer.]

I'm sorry.

[And he means it. Desperate little pants are pushing upward, maybe brushing Freddy's face.]

It wasn't an easy decision.

[But he made it any way with zero conversation. Great job, Dimick.]

Muscled, flexible and moved somethin' like a snake. He was all tanned and had a big forehead.

[No hands? Not even to sit flat and chaste on his thighs?]

He shaved. [Everywhere the eye could see.]

Sorry huh?

[Does his panting smell like booze? At least the old man isn't drunk so that counts for something. Doesn't mean the kid's gonna stop with the movement, not even after the apology he knows is sincere. Larry's so fucking good to him. He climbs off his lap only to turn so his back is to him. Off goes his own shirt and then he's crouching dangerously close, his ass right where it should be if he wanted to sit on Larry's dick.]

Is that what you like, a smooth guy? [Unlike this freckled kid who's smooth only in some places.] Was he younger? Foreign?

[Off goes his belt.]

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