Plaquemines Parish

By: Pee Jay
(© 2009 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

Chapter 1

When Dad died, everything changed. It came very unexpectedly as he was considered young at thirty-six years of age. He had a congenital heart problem, and being poor as we were, he had no resources to call upon. He was born with a hole in his heart and it finally got the better of him.

Mom couldn't support the two of us on her income. She worked cleaning other people's homes; they called her 'the cleaning lady'. Yup, that was my Mom, the cleaning lady, and I loved her. Between rent for the apartment and the normal ongoing expenses, she was sinking fast. She had to do something soon before we ended up on the street.

The situation was wearing her down; she looked tired and haggard. She was doing her best and it wasn't good enough. She tried to be cheerful but it was easy to see through. She was worried and stressed out. It was a hard thing for me to watch, but at sixteen years of age, there was precious little I could do; my heart went out to her.

I offered to get a job but she wouldn't hear of it. She said my job was school, and that was the end of the discussion. She was strong-willed and determined that I get the best education possible, and I didn't let her down when grades came out.

One evening after we finished dinner and the dishes, she asked me to sit down at the table for a talk. She had that dire look on her face and it caused me to worry about what she had on her mind. When I looked at her directly, I saw lines of concern and fatigue that weren't there a short while ago. It was a shame since she was such a beautiful woman; it made me feel helpless.

"Honey, we can't stay here much longer. We're getting behind on everything and sooner, rather than later, it's going to catch up with us."

"Where are we going to go, Mom?"

I had no idea. This was the only place I had ever known. Sure, we moved a few times but always stayed in the same area. I was scared but did my best to keep it hidden. Mom had enough to worry about without me acting like an insecure little kid, even if I did feel that way.

"We have some savings that your father and I managed to set aside and your father's car has been sold. With that, we can afford to relocate."

Now I was worried. I didn't know any other place than this run-down side of town we lived our whole life in. Well, that I had lived my whole life in anyway. I knew I was looking somewhat scared because I was. The unknown was terrifying. I sat there waiting and afraid to ask the obvious question. I really didn't want to hear the answer.

"Go ahead, Mom," I said twirling the saltshaker with my fingers.

"We're going to Louisiana, honey."

"Louisiana? Why there?"

I knew Mom was from Louisiana and a long line of Cajuns, but why go there? She had only been back once and that was for her mother's funeral last year. Her father had drowned many years ago when she was about my age.

"Maybe you aren't aware of it, but my mother left me the house she lived in. It's been sitting vacant since she passed away. I considered selling it but that would only put off our problem, not solve it, and it's not worth much at that. We'll save a lot of money by not having to pay rent."

And that was it, subject closed, end of conversation. We were going to Buras, Louisiana. Of all the unheard-of, god-forsaken, insignificant places on Earth, we were going to Buras, Louisiana! I couldn't even tell my friends; they would laugh at me. They would probably say something like, 'You won't need shoes there,' or maybe, 'You'll fit right in.' God, it was depressing. Mom made the decision and I had no choice but to accept it. Like it or not, we were going to Louisiana. I had a sinking feeling overcome me.

It made sense in a strange kind of way; after all, we lived like modern day Joads so why not round it out with a road trip and a car full of possessions. It did seem to fit … Ma Joad and Val Joad hit the road … except we were going to Louisiana not California. God, I was determined to do something about our situation someday; it was pathetic and pitiful.

In less than a month, we were gone. School let out for the summer and I did eventually tell a couple friends where we were going. Jim was good about it and felt sorry for me. He hated to see me go as much as I hated to leave. We were best friends and did everything together. When we said goodbye we both got choked up and hugged each other, unable to speak for fear of breaking down.

Mom rented a small trailer and we packed our most valuable and necessary belongings inside. The rest of our stuff that wouldn't fit, we left behind in the apartment. Mom said the management company would dispose of it sparing us the aggravation and expense. And to be perfectly honest, it wasn't worth much in the first place.

We left the keys on the kitchen counter and pulled the front door closed. To my surprise, I didn't get emotional. We climbed in the car and drove away, neither one of us having anything to say.

The drive south wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. When we crossed into Illinois from Wisconsin we saw the 'Welcome To Illinois' sign and the gravity of the situation hit me. I looked at Mom and she gave a quick glance back.

"Are you okay?"

I had to think, "Yeah, I suppose so. It's just that sign. It makes it so real. I wonder if I'll ever see anyone I know again."

"It won't take you long to make new friends, honey. Until then you have me. I'll be your friend," then she squeezed my hand.

"You already are, Mom, and don't be so corny." That got a rise out of her. She laughed in the way that only parents do at their kids and it was a little irritating.

We alternated driving duties and navigating and enjoyed being on the road, just the two of us. Me and my mom on the road; we were road warriors! It was kind of funny but I couldn't think of a better person to be with under the circumstances.

The last night we decided to splurge on dinner. Instead of having fast food, we went to a sit-down restaurant. We were over-nighting in Little Rock, Arkansas, and our motel was in a dense commercial area with a nice selection of eating establishments. We chose an Italian one within walking distance so we wouldn't have to move the car and trailer. Mom ordered a bottle of their cheapest wine and we got buzzed with the meal. It was fun. We were laughing at inane things and making fun of the patrons, generally enjoying each other's company.

I told her about the road warrior idea and explained how we were a lot like the Joads and she got a kick out of it. She was in a good mood and it was great to see her enjoy herself. It seemed like ages since I had seen her giddy and light-hearted. Seeing her like that was enough to make my day; she was long overdue to enjoy herself.

Mom caught me staring at her and smiled. I noticed those lines were disappearing faster than they appeared. She looked great. I could see the relief she was feeling and was happy for her; she deserved it.

The next day, it took another eight hours of driving to make it to Buras in Plaquemines Parish; they may as well have named it `Poorman's Parish'. The last couple of hours we spent driving on two lane roads and that slowed us down a lot. We ate in town before driving the last few miles to the house; it was on a country road that dead-ended at the water.

My heart sank when we pulled up in front of the old house. It was awful. I don't know what I was expecting but it sure wasn't this. I should have taken my clue from town; it was pretty run down itself. The place would be more accurately described as a shack; I was going to live in a shack! How had our lives come down to this? What did we do to deserve it? Would there ever be a way out of here? The tears welled up in my eyes and flowed down my cheeks. I couldn't help it; there was no stopping them.

Anyone who ever shed sad tears knows that it's a silent affair. There are no sobs, no shaking, no noise whatsoever; just tears and disappointment; I had plenty of both and let them go.

Mom came around to the passenger side of the car to comfort me and I held her tight as I soaked her blouse. She felt warm and secure—just what I needed.

"Mom, how are we supposed to live here? It's a shack."

"We'll be fine honey. You'll see. I grew up here. It's not so bad."

"I knew you were poor but I had no idea it was like this."

"The price is right and it beats no shack at all. Come on, honey, we can't stay out here all night."

I dried my face on the sleeves of my T-shirt and walked inside with her arm around my shoulder. I was frustrated with myself. I wanted so much to be strong and I was acting like a crybaby feeling sorry for myself. I couldn't help it though; the place was so tattered and run down it was depressing. I resolved that from now on I would act like a big boy, like a man. If Mom could face it, so could I. I wouldn't let her down again; she was trying her best and needed support, not an immature, emotional sixteen-year-old to worry about.

The next morning I woke up to the smell of bacon and eggs. After relieving myself in the bathroom, I went into the kitchen and inhaled deeply. I gave Mom a good morning hug and she kissed me. I was starting to not like her kissing me but that morning I welcomed it.

"Mom, how do you flush the toilet?"

"Pull the chain that hangs from the tank on the wall."

Geez, who the hell would have figured that out? So I did without making any snide or sarcastic comments. If this were home, then I had better start liking it or at least getting used to it.

"It smells good in here. When did you go grocery shopping?"

"This morning before you got up; there's juice in the fridge and the coffee is ready."

I poured a juice for both of us and poured a cup of coffee for myself. I sat at the table and took a piece of toast to go with the coffee.

"Mom, this coffee tastes horrible" as soon as I said it I got mad at myself. 'I am not going to complain; remember that,' I told myself.

"I know. I forgot to buy water in town so I had to make it from well water. It won't hurt you; it's just a little on the brackish side."

I drank my coffee and told myself that it tasted good, hoping I would get used to it. We had a nice chat over breakfast. When we finished, I went outside to unload the trailer, while Mom cleaned up. When I finished she went into town to return the trailer. I went on an exploring mission to inspect the grounds around our little shack.

The surrounding area was forest-like with grayish-green Spanish Moss hanging from boughs and branches. It was eerily beautiful and I couldn't help but notice how different the landscape was from home. The large trees formed a canopy overhead so that very little direct sun light made its way to the ground. The bugs in the trees were making some kind of screeching sound and the birds made strange hoots and howls overhead.

There was a swing hanging from a large tree limb behind our shack, far enough away that the house was out of sight. I sat in the swing and set it in motion. The tree limb was so massive it showed no sign of yielding under the stress. I plied the swing for several minutes savoring the serenity and isolation and the unfamiliar exotic sounds.

After awhile, I stopped the ritual to and fro motion and waited until the swing came to rest. I listened to the sounds of nature. It was an eerie medley of bugs and birds and God knows what, wolves or cougars for all I knew. Maybe it was snakes and alligators, too, who knew what kind of shit was around here; an escaped convict maybe. I was starting to scare myself so I made my way back to the house glancing side to side out of the corner of my eye as I walked.

Mom pulled up to the front porch as I was coming around from the back of our humble abode.

"Mom, is there anything dangerous in the woods back there?"

"Like what, Val?"

"I don't know; that's why I'm asking."

"There's some poisonous snakes that's about it. They're few and far between and brilliantly colored, very easy to spot. The harmless ones are dull and you might not even notice them. Why do you ask?"

"I found a swing hanging from a branch and I was sitting there listening to the strange sounds. I started thinking and freaked myself out. I don't know about this place, Mom; the moss on the trees, the sounds, the smells—it's all so foreign. Kinda scary, if you catch my drift."

Mom laughed. It was familiar territory for her, "My father, your grandfather, made that swing. Did you like it?"

"I did. The only thing was the unfamiliar surroundings. Like I said, it freaked me out. I didn't know if there's wolves or what in dem dar woods." I was trying to sound like a hic making her laugh.

"You're okay in dem dar woods, boy. I'm going to put our things away and clean up. Why don't you walk to the end of the road? There's a marina down there."

"I'm not a boy, Mom!"

"As you wish, my Dear."

Jesus Christ! That woman can piss a saint off at times, and I'm a saint having come this far. Why does she say shit like that? Man, I could choke her at times if I didn't love her so much. Sometimes I think she knows what she's doing. Dammit! She can push buttons like a pro.

"Okay, Mom, I'm going to walk to the end of the road and check it out. I'll be back in a while."

"Bye, sweetie; be careful," she said as she entered our version of a home.

Shit, she did it again! She said that on purpose; I'm sure of it. She's deliberately trying to bait me; it's not going to work this time. I'm going to let it go. I'm not her little boy or her sweetie, though, dammit!

I walked down the dirt road toward the water, contemplating Mom's comments. Was it her intention to be motherly? Or was she trying to be assertive and exercise her role as a parent? Nope, she already had that. I couldn't, for the life of me, figure out why she kept doing that, even after I asked her not to. I decided I was not going to complain; things could be worse; I'm not an orphan; at least I have a Mom. And I sure don't want to hurt her feelings but “Grrrr,” that bugs the crap out of me.

I walked toward the water at the end of the road. It was hot and humid like every summer day in southern Louisiana. I took my shirt off and tucked it into my cutoffs at the small of my back. It was about a half mile to the end of the road. When I made it there, the pier stretched along the shoreline with a large building in the center, bisecting its length. The building was whitewashed with contrasting trim. It didn't blend with the surroundings at all; it was obtuse and announced itself boldly. It was out of step with the landscape.

I turned to the right when I reached the pier. I walked a short distance and sat on the edge of the dock. When I dangled my feet over the edge, they were a good distance above the water. It was calm and peaceful so I lay on my back with my hands behind my head and closed my eyes. The sun was penetrating my eyelids making strange images. I sat up to have one more look around and lay back down resting my head on my hands.

The sun and humidity made for a hot day and I wished that I had a bathing suit with me. I was in my own world as I lay there sunbathing. I was contemplating how I could help Mom. I wanted to get a summer job. I didn't want to be a burden to her; she had enough weight to carry. I wanted to help out, be part of the solution.

I thought about our situation; things could be worse. I smiled as I lay there. ‘This isn't all bad,’ I thought to myself. ‘I'm not starving; I'm warm and safe; yup, things could be much worse.’

I was getting sweaty so I stood up and walked to the end of the pier. There was no one around so I removed my cutoffs. In my underwear, I dove into the water. It was a bold move for me, a city boy, but I did it and felt refreshingly cooler. It lowered my body temperature several degrees.

When I surfaced I couldn't find a way out. The banks around the marina were steep; very unusual for southern Louisiana. Maybe that's why the big boats were at the marina, the water was deep. I could only guess. I swam to the middle of the marina where the building was and climbed the ladder to the pier.

I made my way back to my T-shirt and cutoffs then sat down. I looked around and seemed to be alone, so I took my underwear off and wrung them out over the water and laid them on the pier. I quickly pulled my shorts on and surveyed the area; my display had gone un-noticed—so far as I knew—I was grateful for that. I put my hands behind my head and eased back on the pier, soaking in the sun and warmth it had to offer.

I spent an inordinate amount of time between sleep and semi-consciousness, enjoying nothing and everything before I was drawn out of my listless state by the screeching gulls overhead. I opened my eyes, and temporarily blinded by the sun, sat upright.

The sun had blanched my vision and it took several minutes to re-acclimate to the daylight. There was some form of competition going on. The gulls seemed to be vying for breadcrumbs strewn across the pier. I watched them dive and swoop for some time before I decided it was time to go.

I stuffed my underwear in my front pocket and tucked my T-shirt into the back of my shorts. I slipped my sandals on and walked down the pier when curiosity got the better of me. I wanted to check out the marina building so I timidly approached the side door.

When I entered, I was beholden to a most amazing dining room. The interior was plush and lavish beyond anything I had ever seen. The kind of place I could only imagine existed. The tables were covered with white tablecloths and candles, flowers and real silverware; you could tell by the luster of the metal. Ornate chandeliers were suspended overhead for illumination. The carpeting was regal red with a floral pattern that contrasted with the white tablecloths; it all looked so magnificent I was awed not to mention speechless. ‘My God’, I thought, ‘this has to be some kind of fancy place’. ‘Only rich people can afford to eat here’.

"Hey, young man, what brings you here?" a voice boomed.

I turned sideways to look. He was a lot older and dressed in a black-and-white waiter’s outfit. He had a condescending look and spoke loudly; I felt like he was looking down his nose at me.

"I just moved here," I eked out.

The older guy smiled, "I meant, what brings you in here? I saw you swimming earlier."

"I just wanted to see what was inside the big building, that's all. I just moved here."

"You said that. Where did you move here from?" the old guy asked.

"We moved here from Wisconsin. I'm looking for a job." I wasn't sure what made me say that.

"We need a dishwasher. You think you could do that?"

"I think so. I have to ask my mother if it's okay. Can I give my answer tomorrow?"

I was ready to take the job on the spot if he hesitated. Hell, I had no friends and what else would I do? I wanted to help Mom, too; I didn't want to be a burden.

"You'll have to wear clothes when you work here," he said smiling.

I looked down at myself and was reminded that my shirt was off. I pulled my shirt from behind me and sloughed into it saying, "I'll be sure to be properly clothed. Are you the owner?"

"No, I'm the maitre d' and manager. My name is Charlie," he said extending his hand.

"I'm Val," I said as I took his hand shaking it firmly. I wanted to make a good impression.

"Nice to meet you, Val."

"Same here. What time do you want me to come to work tomorrow?"

"Don't you have to ask your mother?"

"Yeah, but I know she'll be fine with it. It's more formality than anything. So she'll feel like she's in charge. You know?"

Charlie laughed and told me to be there at three in the afternoon. I would work until midnight more or less depending on business. He told me I would get minimum wage and I tried unsuccessfully to get him to go higher. I thanked him and left for what was now home.

I thought my initial opinion of him was wrong. He seemed like a nice older guy. After all, he did give me a job, and it was close enough that I could walk. That was good since we only had the one car and I had to leave my bike in Wisconsin.

When I got home, Mom was almost done cleaning the place. There was a lot of dust and cobwebs that accumulated since granny died.

"Mom, I got a job. I start tomorrow at three in the afternoon."

"That's great, honey. Where are you working?"

"Mom, honey is what bees make." Grrrrr. She did it again.

She stopped cleaning the kitchen floor and gave me a weird look. Maybe she got the message this time. She stood up and smiled then patted my shoulder. I felt bad for having said it, so I added,

"Sorry. I got a job at the marina washing dishes. It doesn't pay much but it's a job."

"That's great, Val. I'm proud of you, and it's so close. I know you'll do a good job for them."

I assured her that I would give it my best. I changed into a clean pair of shorts and got a clean pair of underwear. I opted to go shirtless since the heat of the day was so stifling. I was bored so I decided to check out the shed and see what kind of stuff was in there. I was hoping no snakes were in there hiding; I hated snakes.

The shed didn't have much to offer. There were shovels, hoes, a wheelbarrow, and hoses; mostly gardening stuff. There was an old trunk in the back corner that caught my eye. I started moving some of the hand tools out of the way that were leaning against the wheelbarrow. When I took the wheelbarrow by the grips, a huge black spider the size of my hand descended on my arm.

I let out an ear-piercing scream and ran out of the shed terrified. I didn't stop running until I was in front of the house stopping to catch my breath. I was bent over panting, mostly from fright, when Mom opened the screen door with a grin on her face.

"What's wrong, Val?" She was smiling. No, she was grinning; there was a difference. The grin was mocking me.

"I just saw the world's biggest spider in the shed. It landed on my arm..."

Before I could finish, a big black Cicada landed on my shoulder. I freaked out and screamed as I brushed at my shoulder leaping backward, shaking my arms and head.

Mom started laughing hilariously as she bent over with one hand covering her breast. I didn't think it was very funny; it scared the livin’ crap out of me.

My face got hotter than I thought it could. The heat was already stifling. I felt stupid, especially after shooing the bug away with a girl-like scream. I walked toward the shed like nothing had happened and kicked the door closed, like a man I hoped. I wouldn't be going back in there anytime soon.

The next day I was up at the crack of dawn. There was only one television station and it was pretty bad so I went to bed early. I was excited about starting my new job. After making my bed, I set my clothes out for work. I chose a clean pair of jeans and my best T-shirt.

Mom had gone into town after breakfast to look for work. I whiled away the time outside around the house. It was another scorcher of a day. By the time early afternoon arrived, I was a sweaty sticky mess. A quick dip in the gulf before work sounded mighty enticing. I called Charlie and told him what I wanted to do and asked if there was a place to change clothes. He said I could use the bathroom so I was good to go.

The gulf did prove to be refreshing. I spent some time at the end of the pier taking sun and watching the buzz around the marina. There were quite a few more boats docked than the previous day.

I was on my back with my hands behind my head when I heard the rumble of boat engines approaching. I sat up and watched a good size craft ply its way toward my end of the pier. It was one of the bigger ones around the marina. I wasn't sure if it was a yacht but it was certainly bigger than anything I had ever seen.

As I watched the boat navigate the waters of the marina, I could easily observe the people on deck. There was a guy about my age in a bathing suit, he was beautiful. Oops; that didn't sound right. The guy couldn't be beautiful; girls are beautiful. He was, um, well he was, he looked good. That's it, the guy looked good. I couldn't figure out why I was intrigued with him. I let the thought pass, although my eyes wouldn't let him go.

They were far enough away that I could check him out without anyone being aware of what I was doing. The guy was gorgeous and graceful as he moved and was looking at the pier in my direction. Oh my God! I didn't just think that did I? Gorgeous? How can I say a guy is gorgeous? That's too weird or sick or whatever; but I couldn't stop staring. I didn't know why, but I was feeling something strange and getting excited, and liking the feeling a whole lot! I imagined pressing my hardness against him and a gasp of air escaped me. I wasn't sure what was coming over me and feeling guilty as hell about it, and good, all at the same time.

I had similar urges before when I was with Jim. I fooled around with him once, back home, and I was sure we weren't queer; we were just having fun. I was pretty sure of that. But the dude on the boat was too much; I had never been aroused by a guy before; it was an extraordinary and frightening sensation. I shivered from what I was feeling. How odd it was to shiver on a hot, humid day like this, but shiver I did.

There was something else that seemed to have a grip on me—a kind of hold. I was consumed with his image and likeness, his presence, and his body; yes, it was his body. I was ashamed of myself and the sick thoughts I was harboring. I must be sick to think of things like that. I'm so glad no one can read my mind. Whew.

I wanted to leave for work but I was fully erect and forced to wait it out. What a predicament. Here I was unable to move because of my erection and not able to deflate because the cause of it was getting closer! How the hell am I going to get out of this? I wasn't entirely sure I really wanted to.

I rolled over on my stomach to wait it out. If I didn't look at him, maybe I could force him out of my mind. I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep, but it wasn't working. My penis felt harder than the pier; it was aching for release, and I wanted to release it on him. I couldn't believe it; I wanted to cream on him! I have to be sick. Who else besides a sicko would think of something like that?

I tried thinking about naked girls but I couldn't seem to conjure the image. How was I supposed to picture naked girls when the object of my desire was so close? Dammit, I didn't want to think those thoughts. What was this guy doing to me? What was I doing to myself?

I wanted to get out of there and distance myself from my thoughts. I didn't want to be late for work, either; not on my first day! I tried to think. If I carried my backpack with my clothes in front of me, I could hide that thing with a sick mind of its own. So I set the plan in motion. I pulled my backpack in front of me and stood up. My tool was stuck in the netting inside my bathing suit and forced itself outward. All I could do was reach down and free it and I did so as discreetly as possible. I slipped my sandals on, sauntered down the pier toward the restaurant, and went inside.

Charlie told me where the bathroom was so I went to change into my work clothes. He also told me not to come inside again without a shirt. I entered one of the stalls in the bathroom and locked the door. Whew, I sighed in relief, I made it! Man, I must be one sick SOB. I thought it must be because I don't have a girlfriend. If I had a girlfriend, that wouldn't happen; I would be thinking about her and not some guy. That would probably be something I should look into when school got under way this fall.

Someone else entered the bathroom but I gave it no mind; I was safe. I pulled my bathing suit off and my erection was standing proud at full mast as hard as it had ever been. I stroked it a few times and it felt great. I wanted to jerk off so bad it ached; I knew it was a dumb idea considering my whereabouts. I pushed my hips forward as though the dude on the boat were standing in front of me. I pretended I was rubbing it against him and noticed a wet spot at the tip. I was pleased with the look and size of my erection. I was proud of myself.

As I dressed, I eventually softened then left the stall. I stopped at the vanity to comb my hair and splash my face. When I dried my face off looking into the mirror, I noticed someone's head above the toilet partition next to the one I was in. To my horror, it was the dude from the boat! He was standing on the toilet looking over the partition at me when I was changing!

I freaked out. I grabbed my backpack and ran out of the bathroom with my face on fire. When I found Charlie in the dining room, I stumbled as I put on the brakes. He gave me a strange look, and I knew exactly why. I was panting and my face was some kind of shade of crimson.

"You okay, Val?"

"Yeah. I was afraid I was going to be late on my first day."

That was all I could come up with on short notice to justify my condition. I hoped he believed me, and it seemed to fly.

"Put your things in your locker in the kitchen and bring a cart back with you. Take the dirty dishes from the waitress stands and ask Marla what to do with them."

"Okay, Charlie," I said as I turned in the direction of the kitchen.

Marla assigned me a locker, and I put my things inside. She gave me a white apron and told me where to find a cart; I found it and headed for the dining room.

For lunch, the waiters and waitresses did their own bussing and the dishwasher picked up the dirty dishes at their stations. For the evening meal, there were busboys to do the dirty work for the waiters while the dishwasher stayed in the kitchen. There were no women allowed to work in the dining room after four in the afternoon, which seemed strange to me.

There were three waitress stands in the dining room so I began make my rounds. The last one was near the front of the room. When I got there, the guy from the bathroom was waiting to be seated with his parents. He grinned at me and I looked away as my face grew warm. I hurried to gather the dirty dishes and get out of there. I was getting hard again but this time I had an apron to hide behind. I couldn't understand what it was about the guy that excited me, and I hated myself at the thought of it.

Marla showed me the procedure and I began washing dishes. I couldn't get that guy out of my head. My dick was hard again. His dark hair and complexion were definitely Cajun and his brown eyes were as warm as the Louisiana sun. His muscles were well defined and I longed to caress them.

The little path of hair between his belly button and swimsuit was the same color leading me to picture his naked crotch. The fine hair on his chest and hint of hair in his pits and on his legs was more than I could handle. I wanted to pop at the thought of his naked body; it was all too much and yet gloriously irreverent. God! I guess I am sick … or maybe gay. No, I'm not gay; I can't be because nothing happened.

Eventually, my dick softened up. It had been hard, off and on, for most of the night, and was a little on the sore side from rubbing against my clothing and the stainless steel sink I was hunched over. At closing time, Charlie thanked me for doing a good job and encouraged me to keep up the good work. I thanked him and left for the night. Outside on the deck, I noticed the boat was still there that brought my fantasy and my crotch noticed as well. I would have a great jerk off session tonight even if I was some kind of sicko.

The next morning, Mom told me she found a job. She would be working in a cannery where they processed seafood. I asked her exactly what she would be doing. She said cleaning whatever seafood the trawlers or shrimp boats brought in. She would be gutting and filleting fish, extracting the meat from shellfish getting them ready for processing. It sounded like a lousy job to be honest but she seemed okay with it.

A couple more days passed and it was Friday. I had kept up the same routine and pined from near and far for my fantasy. Somehow, the thought of it didn't shame me anymore; I liked the feeling it gave me even if it were only a fantasy and maybe a little perverted. It had become apparent that there was some interest on his part as well. There had been too many incidents to chalk it off to coincidence. Whether it was an exchange on the pier or in the restaurant, there were casual glances and a lot of leering. I knew there was something going on; it was stimulating and fun all at the same time. I was feeling a lot less guilty and a lot more stimulation.

Of course, I couldn't wait to get back down to the marina every day and continue my lop-sided love affair. I was pretty sure it wasn't a normal guy thing but it was floating my boat! I decided I didn't have to be ashamed if no one knew about it. I had plenty to think about when I went to bed, that's for sure. I had given the bathroom incident some consideration. It wasn't all bad. I rather liked being the subject of my own private voyeur, and my voyeur was hotter than Tabasco sauce! Oh, God! Did I really think that?

I couldn't stand the anticipation any longer, I went to the pier early that day. The slip that held my 'dream boat' was abandoned. I was so crushed and crestfallen I felt like dropping to the pier in a pile of emptiness and despair. Why had I set my expectations so high? I don't know why I thought he would be there. He was like all the rest of the customers, an itinerant vacationer. This wasn't his home. How could it be, he was rich, his family had a big boat. I sat down to wallow in disappointment and self-pity.

I tried to lift myself out of my melancholy state but wasn't having much luck. I did some extra swimming and ventured away from the pier further than I ever had. It was on the scary side but hell, I was hoping a shark would put me out of my misery.

I was back on the pier in my usual sun worshiping position when I felt shade on my face. I sat up and took a minute to adjust my eyes. It was Charlie.

"Hey, Charlie, how you doing?" I said squinting at him with my hand shading my eyes.

"Good; do you want to buss tonight?"

"Yeah sure, who’s going to do the dishes?"

"Marla can handle them. Do you know how?"

"Yeah, keep the water glasses and coffee cups full, remove empty plates and don't reach in front of the customer, make your presence little known. That about it?"

"You have to serve the food when it's ready, speak only when spoken to. When you're not busy stay out of sight and mind as much as possible, okay?"

The busboys doubled as servers at our restaurant.

"Yeah, sure; will you keep an eye on me just in case?"

"You can count on that" he said then turned to go.

I was excited about the change in my status. The waiters shared their tips with the busboys-servers. I would be making more money; at least something good happened today. I rolled over on my stomach and rested my head on my arms to bask some more in the warm sun.

When I thought the time was right I made my way to the restaurant taking care to put my T-shirt on. Charlie gave me a new uniform then I changed in the bathroom. I liked the uniform; it was nicer than any clothes I had at home, and Marla told me I looked handsome in it; that made me feel good. She was a sweetheart, the grandmotherly type.

One of the other guys was mad that I was promoted so fast. He said he was there for months before he got the job; he made a comment about poor white trash and it hurt a lot; it struck a nerve. I pretended to ignore it. I told him timing was everything, and laughed. If someone hadn't quit, I'd still be washing dishes. We set the dining room up for the evening. We were expecting to be busy; it was Friday night.

The evening was proceeding smoothly and the jerk that made the comment was watching me closely. I didn't know his name and I really didn't care; why can't people be nice to each other? If it were the other way around, I would be happy for him—not sneering and jealous. It didn't concern him anyway, he should mind his own damn business. At one point, I gave him a coy smile and hoped it irked the shit out of him.

We were busy but not so busy we couldn't keep up and do a good job. About 8:30 or so, it happened; in walked my heartthrob with his parents and they waited for Charlie to seat them. I was as nervous as could be. I was having trouble not looking at him and he was following me around the room with his eyes, I could feel it. And the worst part of all, Charlie seated them in my section! There he was, the boy of my dreams sitting in my section! I was doomed.

I did my best to be professional but I couldn't hide my hand shaking as I filled his water glass. He sat opposite his parents and his mother noticed it. As I stood next to him I thought I might faint, I felt weak and excited and … hell, I don't know what I was feeling; it was all new to me. I moved to her side of the table and filled her glass first, then the father’s glass. I beat a path out of there to compose myself.

I kept an eye on their water glasses as I tended the other tables; they didn't order coffee so I didn't have to worry about that. Every time I looked at the table, HE was looking back. It only served to make me all the more jittery. When their food order was ready, I served the parents first. When I came back with his meal, he rubbed my thigh with the hand he had under the tablecloth. I almost gasped out loud. I started swelling up immediately. I wanted to rub my hardness on him so bad. I left their table heading for obscurity.

My penis was so hard I knew it was showing. The uniforms weren't tight but they were snug enough to announce bulges, and mine was long past the bulging stage. I took a couple minutes to 'freshen up' in the bathroom. I was a hormonal mess.

Kris, one of the waiters, came in the bathroom. When I looked at him, he had a big shitty grin on his face.

"What are you laughing at?" I asked him.

"Why don't you just give him your phone number?" He pissed me off with that 'know-it-all' grin of his.

"What? What are you talking about?"

"The guy at table twenty-two for fuck sake. The one you can't stop looking at. The one that can't stop looking at you that one."

"You're crazy. You don't know what the hell you're talking about" I said then turned to leave in a huff.

I had to get back in there; I knew I was screwing up big time.

That little burst of angst was enough to subdue my one-eyed-trouser-bass. Oh, shit! That's what he ordered for his meal—bass! Wait a minute; did I want to feed him my bass? How screwed up am I?

And that's not funny! I was having the biggest problem in recent memory, maybe even ever.

I swung back into action and caught up quickly. Charlie was watching me with a scowl on his face; I smiled at him and kept up the pace. He seemed to be okay after a while.

I could feel HIM looking at me, and I resisted the urge to look. Sooner or later, I would have to give in to do my job. I noticed my waiter taking their dessert order and waited for him to leave to clear their table. I didn't want him to touch me again, well actually I did, so I stood a little further away when I took his plate. I didn't want to get hard again; it was too much of an ordeal. I still couldn't understand how one guy’s touch could do that. I was pretty sure at this point that I was gay or bi, but give me a break; I don't have an on-off switch or anything.

I kept up just fine with everything the rest of the evening. When my beauty left, he looked me square in the eyes and smiled. He was standing behind his parents, the chicken-shit. I very nearly wilted but managed to forge ahead. I was getting better at handling my emotions, or so I thought.

There was only one table of drunks left, so Charlie raised the lights and we started clearing the dining room to send them the message.

Charlie approached me and asked what had happened when 'dream boat' arrived. Of course, he didn't say that or know it, but that was the moment he was referring to. I told him that it got a little warm in the dining room and I had to go to the bathroom. He was okay with my explanation and his observation was duly noted; he knew I understood.

I retrieved my clothes from my locker then we all bade each other good night and left for home. Kris cornered me on the deck outside the restaurant wanting to know if I got 'his' phone number, I told him to buzz off. He persisted until I finally told him, no. He laughed saying he didn't think poor-white-faggot-trash like me stood a chance with him.

I was sick at the stark realization that he might be right. I hated the sound of the word ‘faggot’ and its perverted connotation, but could I honestly deny it? Was there any truth to it? However he chose to phrase it, was it, in fact, true? I wanted to crawl under the deck with the cruel reality that Kris laid on me. How could I entertain the thought of being with him? I was living in a shack. I was poor white trash like Kris said. As much as it hurt, I had to admit it. It was disheartening.

I undid my bow tie, unbuttoned my shirt, and pulled it out of my pants. The restaurant was air-conditioned but outside; the night was muggy and warm. I sat on a bench to relax before 'going home', or 'going shack', or whatever you want to call it; either way, it was depressing.

The moon was bright and the water glistened with its reflection. Maybe I was a poor kid, but I didn't feel poor at this place in time. I felt like my life was going good in spite of all that had happened. I had a great mom—maybe the best—a lousy house; I couldn't have everything, a good job and someone to dream about. It was good enough for me and I relished the thought. Screw Kris with his high and mighty attitude. It doesn't matter if you're rich or poor. What matters is how you are when you're rich or poor. Screw Kris. He lives here, too. I wonder what his shack looks like?

With the beauty of nature before me and the thoughts that had just swept through my mind, I thanked God for what I had. I was truly happy; well, maybe it was contentment, but close enough for me. I appreciated what he did for me and I thanked him.

Charlie was locking the side door when he spied me sitting outside. He came out and sat down next to me.

"How's it going, Val?"

"It's good, Charlie." I paused for a moment. "I'm one of the lucky ones."

Charlie smiled, "Why do you say that?"

"Because it's true, I have the best mom in the world, a job and...I don't know...it's just true. I'm lucky, Charlie."

"You're a good kid, Val. You're young, you have a good head, and you’re fortunate to have the looks to go with it." He hesitated for a moment. "Don't let him get away without trying," he said softly and elbowed me with a breaking grin.

I raised my hands and lowered them along with my head in surrender. If Kris and Charlie picked up on it, then screw it. I was exposed. It wasn't a secret any longer. Shit. When the hell does it start getting easier? I just found out myself, more or less. I was over-processed for the night; I felt tired.

"I don't have much to say about it, Charlie. I'm dirt poor; Kris called me poor-white-faggot-trash."

"Don't listen to him. He takes up time and space and that's about the best thing you can say about him. You're holding the cards, Val. You may be the best thing he ever comes across. Don't sell yourself short. Are you willing to give up without trying?"

"I don't know, Charlie. No one knows I'm gay; hell, I just admitted it to myself and here you come across with all this. Then Kris starts asking questions tonight. I'm tired, I'm going home."

"Okay, Val, but realize this—you're your own architect in life. If you don't do it for yourself, no one else will."

"Thanks, Charlie, I'll remember that." The conversation over, Charlie went inside, and went about closing.

I stretched out on the bench, my shirt open and hands behind my head leaning on the backrest. It was a nice evening; I listened to the sounds of the night. It was kind of eerie and I thought about the walk home alone. I realized I was hungry; I hadn't eaten all day.

A voice behind me said, "Hey".

I lurched forward at the intruder’s unexpected presence. I turned to see who was there. It was him! I couldn't believe my eyes. My wildest fantasy was standing there; there, in all his magnificence and beauty. And he was talking to me of all people, poor little ol’ me. I wasn't tensed up at all; a strange tranquility overtook me. It was uncanny.

"Hi," I said, unsure of myself and what else to say.

"Can I sit with you?"

"Yeah, it's a nice night," I said. I wasn't uptight. My emotions had been spent over the course of the evening; I was tired and calm.

He sat down next to me and said, "Do you mind?"

"No, not at all; help yourself," then I went silent. I didn't get aroused, I was emotionally and physically spent. He had drained me earlier, along with Kris and the fast pace of work.

We sat in silence, venturing a glance or two at each other every so often.

He ran his fingers through my hair and I leaned my head backward into his hand.

He said, "The highlights in your hair look nice on you."

"Thank you," I said. I wasn't sure what he was talking about but I was happy that he liked something about me.

I was lost, mesmerized by his touch. He was the most handsome guy I had ever seen. I felt weak and stimulated at the same time. I wanted to lie down with him and experience all of him. He was enchanting.

I looked at those brown eyes with the long lashes above his high cheekbones and fell in, hopelessly under his charm. I was as malleable as warm dough. I was his for the taking, and more than willing.

"You're beautiful. You know that?" He paused for a moment. "May I kiss you?'

"No, yes, and you don't have to ask." I felt like I should pinch myself.

He wanted to kiss me! This boy I had been fawning over for days wanted to kiss me! I never kissed anybody and now he wanted to kiss me. I released a drawn-out sigh.

He scooted closer as I turned to face him. We leaned toward each other and kissed. When I pulled away, I looked him in the eyes; they were twinkling like the shimmering water in the moonlight. We kissed and touched each other for some time; touching his face and body was like nothing I had ever known. It was heavenly.

We eased back on the bench gazing at the water, occasionally making eye and lip contact. Everything was just as I would have ordered it given the opportunity. I stroked his forearm with my hand, feeling the fine hairs and smooth skin; he was heaven on Earth, and I shivered again.

He looked at me and grinned, "What's your name, anyway?"

We both had a laugh at the irony of his question. After all the tension and posturing of the last few days, we didn't so much as know each other's name.

The restaurant lights went out leaving us alone in the moonlight. I realized that Charlie may have done some eavesdropping; I felt a surge of embarrassment. I thought it might be hard to face him tomorrow.

"I'm Val."

"Nice to meet you, Val; I'm Dave."

"The pleasure is all mine, Dave; I'm sure," I said with a touch of sarcasm trying to diffuse the anxiety welling up inside me.

He smiled and we turned our gaze to the gulf and the lapping water at the shoreline. He had taken my hand and it felt so good, so romantic, so right to be there with him at his side. I wanted to caress and feel him, but I resisted. I was afraid of something and not quite sure of what it was.

"I should get going. I still have a bit of a walk to get home," I said.

I was getting nervous and not sure of what to do.

"I'll walk you home, okay?"

I tensed up instantly and sat upright. I didn't want him to see where I lived. No way would he want to be with me if he saw our dumpy little shack. It would be much too embarrassing; I would die if he saw it.

"That's okay. It's late and your parents will worry."

"It's no problem. They don't care. They went to bed hours ago. Besides, the waves breaking against the boat make enough noise to hide footsteps."

"No, I'll walk alone. It gives me time to think." Damn! I was hoping that would do it. I just simply cannot let him see where I live. I'd never be able to look him in the eye again.

"Okay, if you insist. Would you like to go fishing in the morning? We leave around eight. Say ‘yes’; okay? It'll be fun."

"I don't know. I have to work at three in the afternoon and I noticed you didn't come back till after three today. I don't have any fishing gear either."

"We have everything you need. As far as getting back before three, that's not a problem. Mom and Dad were looking at a house in Grand Isle today, that's why we were late coming back."

"Tell you what. If it's okay with my mother, I'll be here at eight. Otherwise, you'll know she said ‘no.’ Okay?"

"Sounds good."

We both stood up then he placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Good night, good looking," he said then kissed me.

"Good night," I said, unable to return his compliment. I felt strange and I don't know why. It was too much for one night. And to tell a guy that he's good looking, it was too much for me. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't do it.

As I walked away, I looked over my shoulder to see him doing the same with a grin on his face. It was too much to resist so I returned his smile; God, he was gorgeous and sexy and sweet and beautiful and delicious and...I ran out of words. I was left with the feeling of...what was I feeling? Was I infatuated? Was it a onetime thing? I never had these feelings before; was it because someone showed interest in me? I wasn't sure.

As I walked home, I wondered if I would go fishing with him in the morning. I was certain Mom wouldn't care, she would be at work; in fact she would be happy for me. How could I possibly associate myself with him, he was out of my league. Hell, my uniform was the best clothing I had; that should tell me something; shouldn't it? And how long would it be until he found out where I lived and dumped me? Then what happens when he goes home; I'll be left behind, nothing more than a passing fancy, and broken hearted!

Should I or shouldn't I? I really want to. I was a bundle of contradicting emotions, I couldn't sort it out.

As I made my way home, my thoughts were a swirling cauldron of hope, apprehension, desire, self-doubt, longing, and denial. I was an emotional tinderbox waiting for a spark to ignite, unaware that my fuse had been lit.

To be continued...

I would like to acknowledge Wayne for his help in keeping me focused or on track, and Chris for his help in editing and proof-reading.

Posted: 10/02/09