Heres to You Mr Robinson (3 page)

“Debbie’s taken the kids away for the weekend, so I had a free night.”

I hopped into the vehicle, still unable to speak.

“Buckle up and we’ll be underway.”

I clicked my seatbelt into place and turned to stare at him. The first thing out of my mouth was the excruciatingly embarrassing, “You can’t be gay.”

He merely chuckled as he started the car. “This body says otherwise, Chiquita. How many straight guys you know built like me, eh?”

I knew it was a joke rather than conceit.

“But everyone thinks you’re married with kids.”

“Debbie’s my little sis. The kids are hers. She’s taken them to visit her asshole of a husband to see if there’s anything left to salvage of their relationship. She still loves the bastard. I don’t know what she sees in him. She’s better off staying with me so I can take care of them.”

“Stifles any chance of a relationship, or even sex,” I suggested.

“I’m over relationships. Big time.”

I filed that away for later because the bitter way he said it brooked no discussion at the moment.

“As for sex,” he continued. “A much over-rated commodity in my book.”

I’m such a klutz, my mouth is always flapping. “Easy for you to say. You’re gorgeous and can obviously have any man you want—”

“Then how come the man I wanted didn’t want me,” he snapped.

Change the subject, Jayson.

“All I’m saying is, I’m just starting out and I’m a bit on the homely side so sex is a really big deal for me at the moment. When I’m old and jaded like you are, then maybe I won’t care so much.”

He looked over at me and lifted my face toward him, keeping his other hand firmly on the wheel. If he was insulted he didn’t show it.

“Who told you that you were homely, kid?”

“Don’t ever call a grown man, kid, even in jest.”

“Sorry. I forget how sensitive you young guys are. When you’re my age you’d do anything to be called ‘kid’ again. And you didn’t answer the question.”

“Dunno what it’s like in your era, granddad, but we young
'
uns have this new-fangled invention in our log cabins. We call it a mirror,” I joked. “Shows us young folk what we really look like without fear or favour.”

He let my face go, saying simply, “Then your mirror is lying if it tells you you’re homely.”

That comment took my breath away and we spent the remainder of the journey in silence. The car park was crowded, not unusual for a Saturday night, and I saw Troy’s car was already here.

As we walked toward the bar, Mr. Robinson – shit, I still didn’t know his name – said, “Sorry about calling you a kid earlier. I’m not much good around young guys. Not my scene. All they have between their ears is party, drugs and loud music.” I went to interject. “Yeah, I know I shouldn’t tarnish all you young guys with the same brush but, well, experience has taught me otherwise.”

I would have to seriously reappraise my attraction to this man. “You know, Mr. Robinson, for someone who is so goddam physically perfect, you’re a real downer. Maybe you should get yourself a personality to go with the body.”

With that I strode away from him and into the bar where I was engulfed in a flurry of activity as the entire bar screamed “Surprise!”

I beamed at Troy and Vince who had draped a banner proclaiming ‘Welcome Home Jayson’ across a corner of the room, setting up party central around a number of the booths. Even patrons who didn’t know me joined in the revelry. I was backslapped and congratulated across the room to where Troy was beaming. I hugged him and Vince and was genuine in my thanks.

“What a nice welcome,” I choked.

“Where’s your date?” Vince asked.

“You mean the guy with the muscles and the fun bypass?” I said sarcastically.

Troy looked stricken. “You didn’t?”

I nodded that, yes, I had. “Both barrels”

Troy sighed. “Vince, go see if you can find him.”

He pulled me aside. “I told Vince we should have warned you. You’ll have to cut him some slack, Jay. He’s hurting. Short version is he was in a relationship for fifteen years. He and his boyfriend bought the house opposite you together and just before they were about to move in, the bastard boyfriend ran off with a younger man. That was less than six months ago. Since then he’s thrown all his energy into paying off the louse and helping his sister and her two kids through their messy problems.”

“You told me you didn’t know if he was gay.”

“Vince got the story out of him earlier today when he originally turned down our invitation to join our group tonight. This is his first time out since his break-up. It’s a big deal for him.”

The crowd hushed as Vince dragged the obviously reluctant Mr. Robinson into the bar. Patrons gaped or buzzed with gossip so that by the time he reached me half the men had claimed prior knowledge of his gayness or else maintained they had slept with him.

Vince shoved him in one side of the booth while Troy did the same to me from the other end. Mr. Robinson and I met in the centre, hemmed in by our two well-wishers.

“I think you two should talk,” Vince said.

“Be good,” Troy added.

“If you two promise not to move, we’ll be right back with drinks.”

He took our order, leaving us alone.

“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t know.”

“He told you?”

“Yep.”

“Shit.”

“That’s exactly what I feel like.”

He laughed.

“I can’t call you Mr. Robinson all night,” I said. “Sounds like I’m back in high school.”

“Where are my manners?” he said. “Oh, I remember. I left them with my personality.”

“Ouch.”

“Scott,” he said.

“Jayson.”

“I know. I knew your name the day you came home.”

“You stalking me?”

“I’m not the one staring through binoculars.”

“You saw me?” I reddened.

“The sun glints off the lens in the morning.”

“You must think I’m some sort of pervert.”

“That makes two of us then,” he said kindly. “I borrowed my nephew Ty’s telescope one night, he’s mad keen on astronomy, to see what you were up to. You know you can see straight through those flimsy curtains of yours at night when you have that little Snoopy lamp on beside your bed?”

“Oh, fuckin’ shit!”

“That’s a nice piece of meat you’re carrying.”

“You watched me jerk off?”

“There was nothing of interest on TV that night so…” he shrugged.

I smiled. “And what did you do?”

“Joined you, of course. You should see the hot expression you get on your face when you’re about to come.”

I snuggled up against him. “Maybe you’d like to see it up close and personal.”

I felt him tense. Disappointed, I moved away.

Troy brought our drinks over and I downed it in one gulp.

“Steady on,” Scott said. “If you get drunk too early, someone will take advantage of you.”

I stood up to go buy a second vodka and bitter lemon, sneering, “That’s what I was hoping.”

Okay, I was being a jerk, but the prospect of consummation with the man of my dreams was receding faster than the hairline on the older – much older – man who sidled up to me at the bar.

“This one’s on me,” he said, adding before I could refuse, “I work with your dad.”

I looked at him more closely. Attractive in a seedy sort of way. Body still in good nick. I arched an eyebrow.

“Of course, should anything occur between us I would be discretion itself,” he added.

“That goes double for me…”

“Nigel,” he said.

“Thank you, Nigel. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again before the night is through.”

I wandered off, flirting outrageously with anyone half attractive in the bar. I needed to get laid. Obviously, I had been fantasising over the wrong man. If I couldn’t have Mr. Perfect, I’d settle for Mr. Second Best. Or even lower down the scale if necessary. I should have stopped at three drinks but I didn’t. I was horny and I was obnoxious. I wandered back to Scott who was busy beating off a number of persistent admirers and plonked myself next to him. Troy shook his head in exasperation at my behaviour.

I didn’t care. Leaning over, I attempted to kiss Scott on the lips but he pulled away.

“I can’t,” he said.

“Am I that ugly?”

“Stop saying that. You’re not ugly at all. If I was twenty years younger…”

“I like older men. Just ask Troy.”

Troy nodded his agreement.

“I’m not ready for another commitment.”

“I’m not asking for a picket fence and three puppies. All I want is a fuck.”

Scott recoiled.

I stood up shakily and squeezed past Troy. I turned to the bar and in my loudest voice shrieked, “I’m not looking for a lifetime commitment. All I want is a fuck. What does a guy have to do to get a fuck around here?”

That brought them out of the woodwork. I headed to the toilet in embarrassment as well as to get away from Scott in case I lost my temper even further. I went into the nearest cubicle and sat fully dressed on the bowl. Foolishly I had neglected to lock the door. It was pushed open by none other than Nigel, dad’s work colleague, who took the opportunity to bolt the door behind me while attempting to disguise it with concern for my health.

“Are you feeling all right now?”

“Never felt better,” I lied.

“Good,” he said, lowering his fly. “I have an early start tomorrow so I thought this an opportune time to collect on my investment.”

He had his pants down around his ankles and was massaging his cock to its full potential before my brain even registered that his investment was the drink he’d bought me earlier.

“I knew you were a slut the moment I set eyes on you. I bet you suck like it’s second nature.”

I began to object, “Just a minute—” but I couldn’t finish as he slid his very eager prick into my mouth. I attempted to push him off but he held firm to the back of my head and was poking into my throat before I could stop him. The quick glimpse I’d had of his cock showed it to be far more prepossessing than the man it belonged to. If I could just blot him out and concentrate on the rather nice slab of meat filling my craw I might get through this without throwing up. Nigel wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

He kept up his barrage of slut talk even after I heard the toilet door open and someone enter the men’s room. It registered that the newcomer stopped close by the cubicle in which we were ensconced and was probably listening to our sexual activity.

“Suck it good slut. I’m sure you’ll have as many men as you want lined up to get a sample of your blow job skills. Oh, yeah, get your tongue round my knob, boy. I knew you’d be good, little fucker.”

It was turning me on, except Nigel’s whiny voice was not the one I wanted to hear saying these things to me. I don’t mind role playing a slut but I need someone much more aggressive and powerful than Nigel.

He let me come up for air, my lips spilling drool down my chin. I sucked it in. “Come on, Nigel, you can do better than that. Pound my slut face, choke me on your big, hard cock so I’ll never forget how good you are.”

“Good slut faggot boy! Suck it.”

I gagged, almost puking around the dick that filled my mouth. He was getting into it now and I held his flabby butt cheeks to keep him as far down my throat as I could so as not to taste his nasty seed when he blew. I used all my expertise to bring him off while his string of expletives became less coherent as he raced toward ejaculation. I heard the door open and our eavesdropper leave.

I took my mouth off and tried one last ruse, “Feed me, daddy. Feed me all your hot spunk.”

That did it. No sooner had he rammed as far into my gullet as he could possibly go he stood stock still, his body juddering as he shot his cock phlegm deep inside me. I tasted none of it, clearing my throat as he pulled out to keep it down. He wiped his residual jizz on my lips, pulled up his trousers, and then patted me on the head like a favoured pet. “We must do this again.”

I waited a few minutes before I staggered to my feet, making sure the door was securely fastened lest some other horny man decide I was easy prey, and then I made my uneasy way back to the bar. Flashing my ID, I ordered a double bourbon.

“Here, let me pay for that,” a deep resonant voice just near my left ear said, slapping a fifty on the counter.

That’s what you’ve got to do to get a fuck,
I thought.
Make a total fool of yourself in the town’s only gay bar. Still, if it works…

The barman scooped up the cash before I had a chance to say ‘no’. I turned to thank my benefactor.

“Get it into you before you make a bigger fool of yourself than you already have. Then I’m taking you home.”

“Promise,” I said, realising I was slurring my words.

I went to pick up the drink but Scott beat me to it, downing it in one gulp. He slammed the glass back on the counter and held the bar for a moment.