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Well, finally got this thing started. Hope you guys like it, more installments to follow.
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© December, 2000
Chris Carr
It was the incessant bouncing that eventually made him look up. Bounce… bounce… bounce. Probably wouldn't have ever noticed him otherwise as the earphones from his new CD player were blasting Li'l Kim.
Bounce… bounce… bounce…
Appreciating the youth's solid form, August paused, crossing his legs.
Bounce… bounce… bounce…
Under other conditions, August probably would've found the bouncing annoying. His heart still fluttering, however, he'd never found a basketball so enthralling.
Momentarily, the bouncing stopped and in a brief, breathtaking instant, the boy glanced up at August, his captivating gray eyes holding him. August was just about to smile when, his bus pulled up.
Unseen wrinkles on his black body shirt of sudden interest, he lingered, smoothing them out. When he looked up, he noticed the boy was looking at him but wasn't boarding the bus.
His bus pass in hand, he waited until the last possible minute, finally relinquishing and sprinting up the stairs of the bus. Settling in a window seat, he noticed the boy was still at the stop, idly bouncing his basketball below.
As the bus pulled off, the boy glanced up at August one last time.
I.
It had been a hectic day and August was happy to be going home. As the full city bus rambled along, he pondered his empty refrigerator. Did he want to stop at the corner market and do a little shopping or just stop at the Burger King and call it a day?
His cousin Charles had told him on several occasions to avoid recklessly spending money at fast food joints but he was tired. Man, how he hated his job. Three years of constant harassment at the hand of ignorant, testosterone laden employees had really taken its toll and today was no exception. Taunts, barbs, and a constant litany of faggot references and jokes, each told with a leering sarcasm that August knew was directed at him, were a daily experience.
Exiting the bus, he stopped at the Burger King resigning himself to another lecture from his pesky cousin. As he waited on his order, perusing the boys entering and exiting the burger stand, he pondered his encounter that morning.
Trade.
So elusive, yet so alluring. Always casting a wary eye his way, fanning the flames of his desire. But what did the looks mean? Curiosity? Disdain? And why was he forever drawing them?
His order came and as he took a seat at one of the hard metal tables, a couple of youths entered. Regarding them a bit too long, August heard one of them mutter, "faggot," under his breath. Looking away, he quietly munched on his fries.
Like most boys, he'd had his early explorations. Wrestling matches with the boy next door that always resulted in suggestive positions, his dick erect as he held the boy's arms pinned to the grass. Show and tell games behind the tool shed. No big thing, it was what guys did. Until his friends grew out of it.
"Don't do that shit no more," they'd mumble, pushing August away. By his freshman year, high school, his "uniqueness" proved perplexing.
He wasn't good at sports, hated gym and couldn't understand why his male counterparts turned goofy around girls. Girls made good friends and for that he had plenty but, going ga-ga over them? The naked bodies parading around the locker room after P.E.? Now that was a different thing.
Eventually, one of the jocks on the football team who noticed the way he'd stare in the locker room approached him and he had his first, full blown sexual experience with a guy. Several closeted, confused boys later and there was no denying his attraction.
Finishing his cold fries, August gathered his backpack and started his adventurous trip home. There was always plenty of trade, carousing about his neighborhood and he never knew what he'd see. Striving to draw as little attention to himself possible, he walked swiftly and with purpose.
A group of boys were playing basketball in front of one building, their chests bare, sweat glistening on their sinuous torsos. It wasn't until one of them glared at him, a look of disgust etching his youthful face, August realized he was staring.
Furious for being so careless, he scurried away. Rounding his block, he noticed a figure sitting in front of his building. Shocked, he clamped a hand over his mouth, suppressing a gasp and barreled for the front gate.
Keys in hand, he rushed past the youth. As he fumbled with the key to open his security gate, the young man snorted,
"Nigga, how you gon' play me?"
August ignored him, still fumbling with the key.
"Oh, it's like that, huh?" he assailed. Standing he approached August, mischievously persisting, "Nigga, you know I didn't mean nothin'."
The lock finally cooperative, August opened it, the rough neck hot in pursuit. Sprinting up a flight of stairs, he stopped at his door and fumbled with another key.
"August," the youth impugned, staring at him, "Why you trippin'?"
Opening his door, August motioned to enter, but was prohibited, the young man grabbing his arm. Turning him around he fumed,
"Nigga you need to quit trippin'!"
"Why'd you say it, Juice?" August snapped.
"Why you trippin'?" Juice countered.
"I got to go," August insisted, prying Juice's hand from his arm.
Juice stared at him, dumbfounded as he turned to close the door. August hesitated and Juice lowering his head muttered,
"I didn't mean it."
"But why'd you say it?" August huffed.
"'Cause! You saw who I was with, nigga. Stonie stupid, man. I was just… Com'on August, quit fuckin' 'round. You know you want it."
Glancing around the landing, Juice looked back at August, a fiendish grin on his face. Stepping into the open door, he looked around again. His movements so slight, they were hardly noticeable, he deftly reached out and groped the youth. To his delight, his hand discovered August's excited state.
Pushing his way inside, he nipped at the youth's neck, closing the door behind them. Whimpering in frustration, August pushed him away.
"My bad," Juice begrudged, hugging the boy close to him.
A smile creeping upon his face, August whimpered again as Juice pushed him against the wall, suckling his neck. Reducing him to a mass of quivering flesh, Juice released him, his wild eyes boring into him. Ripping his pants open, he thrust his prong forward, his eyes a demanding force.
"Best ta get on this," he glowered, pulling August's head toward his stiff member.
His arms bare thanks to his sleeveless T-shirt, August shivered. The weather was changing and soon there'd be long, rainy nights, perfect for what he craved. He'd arrived early at his stop, his trip through the disappointingly quiet neighborhood unrewarding. Rubbing his arms to warm himself, he sat, retrieving his CD player from his backpack and popping the earphones on.
He was a little sore, no small thanks to Juice, but damn if it wasn't worth it. Make up sex was always the best and Juice's nasty comment at the Burger King the day before needed a lot of making up.
From the corner of his eye he noticed a boy approaching and he looked like trouble. About 17 or 18, the ruffian's pants sagged off his slender hips as he walked. He was tall, and reedy, his ebony skin smooth.
Summarizing the thug's homely features, August grappled with conflicting feelings of aversion and attraction, the thug's harsh features and full lips drawing him. As the boy came closer, however, August became concerned.
Casually observing the street about him, he played down his surging fear, humming nervously along with Mary J. Blige's "Missing you." At 7:30 in the morning, the hood was a relatively quiet place. Other than the cars zipping by, no doubt on their way to work, little to nothing was happening.
Checking the boy's advance again, he observed him angling for his bus stop. Oh shit, August panicked. Maybe he was just a tweaker, out bumming for quarters.
The boy stopped short of the bus stop and stared at him. Distressed, August looked down but the boy remained, staring silently. His heart racing, August waited, hoping against hope the thug would move on.
There was movement again, causing August's heart to leap in his chest. Mary was crooning "Everything" in his ear now, but he hardly heard it. His head still down, he saw the boy's dirty tennis shoes move into his peripheral vision, just off to his right. The punk was standing over him.
His heart pounding in his ears, he continued staring at the ground waiting for the inevitable. Chancing another glance, he noticed the boy's shoes stepping away and looked up to see why. The boy was looking to August's left causing him to follow his gaze.
Standing defiantly to his left was the cute boy from the morning before. His cool gray eyes glaring at August's would-be-assailant, he calmly bounced his basketball. The crack-head sized the boy up, then relented, walking on.
Grateful, August sat up, smiling at the boy.
"Hi," he greeted, removing his earphones.
"'Sup," the boy returned, bouncing his ball.
"August," August said, reaching his hand out.
"Vincent."
Vincent shook his hand firmly, then returned to bouncing his ball. Turning his CD player off, August tucked it in his backpack. Vincent observed him, his bouncing basketball a steady rhythm on the pavement.
"Goin' to school?" August posited.
"Naw, my homey's."
Nodding, August gazed at him, helpless. Aware he was staring, he pried himself away, looking up the street, searching in vain for his bus. Another breeze caressed his arms and he wondered should he have worn something warmer.
"You stay 'round here?" August petitioned.
"On Edgewood," Vincent said, holding his basketball now. "I've seen you around," he volunteered, bouncing his ball twice.
"You have?"
"Yeah. You stay in that apartment on Dalton, don't you?"
"Yeah."
"You be with Juice."
"Yeah."
"Yeah," Vincent echoed, bouncing his ball again. Bounce… bounce… bounce… silence.
Silence?
He was staring at him again.
"You goin' to school?"
"School?" August chuckled. "How old you think I am?"
"18?"
"I'm 22."
Vincent observed him quietly, then bounced his ball again.
"I'm goin' to work," August announced.
"Oh yeah, where you work?" Bounce… bounce..
"A&M auto supply." Bounce… bounce…
"Auto supply?"
"Yeah… why, what's wrong with a auto supply store?"
"Nothing…. it's just… So… you gots yo' own apartment?"
"Yeah."
"Thought you was stayin' with yo' moms or something," Vincent explained.
A rumbling beneath his feet signaled August’s approaching bus. Slinging his backpack over his shoulders he glanced at the boy, departing for the open door of the bus.
"A’ight be atcha," Vincent said.
"'K," August smiled, boarding the bus. As the day before, he watched out the window until the boy was out of sight.
He didn't see Vincent for some time, eventually dismissing it as another chance, meeting. He'd seen it several times, Juice included. Like ships passing in the night, some boy or man would enter his life, briefly charming him then move on. Sometimes he'd know when or where they went and sometimes he didn't.
Exiting his bus, he walked home, happy he'd fixed the big pot of spaghetti the night before. His cousin would be proud. Speaking of which, he hadn't seen Charles in some time. Maybe he'd call him when he got home, see what the latest dish was.
"You late," a voice stated, startling him. Clutching his thumping heart, August stilled himself.
"Where'd you come from?"
"Was sittin' there at the Quick 'N Split," Vincent said, pointing at the corner market. "You didn't see me?"
"No," August said, wondering how he'd missed him.
"You late," Vincent repeated.
"I missed my bus."
His ever present basketball missing, Vincent seemed almost naked without it. His bright white athletic shoes paralleling August's worn Saucony's, they walked. Surprised the boy followed, August ventured this more than he'd thought.
"You gay?" Vincent blurted, spoiling the fantasy.
"Um… why you ask?"
"Just cause."
"But what makes you think I am?"
"Way you dress, your hair always so perfect and the way you walk."
"The way I walk? What's wrong with the way I walk?"
Vincent said nothing, increasing August’s anxiety as they walked. "Just ain't like a playa," he eventually nonplussed, glancing up at him.
"So that make me gay?" August countered.
Retreating to his silence again, Vincent solemnly walked.
"Ain't nothing to me, b," He ceded.
"Well, since you asked…yeah," August surrendered a few minutes later.
Nearing his apartment, he paused.
"You goin' home?" He chanced.
"Naw… just chillin'."
"Wanna come inside?" August said, opening the gate to his building.
"'S'cool."
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