The Bookstore Clerk (7 page)

“It was not on the shelves because it was being held in the basement. It should have remained there until he picked it up!”
I shook my head and shrugged.
“A customer asked for the book. I called the stockroom and was told we have it. It came up and I sold it. Just doing my job.” I hesitated, then added, “Ma’am,” and I turned away and went back to my rows of books.
My workday was over; I’d done pretty well, I thought. I removed my name tag, smiled at the remaining evening clerks and headed down the stairs, where I met Timmy about to come upstairs. We smiled at each other and he put his arm around my shoulder.
“You did well, sport,” he winked at me. “I’m very proud.”
I grinned back at him, wishing we could do more than just having his arm around me. Kissing would be nice, I thought, blushing. He removed his arm from my shoulder and we crossed busy 5
^th
Avenue, making our way to Broadway and the subway.
“Bet you’re tired,” he said on the subway. At that time of day it was packed.
“Nope, I feel very much alive. The work didn’t take anything from me. I feel wonderful!”
He laughed.
“First-day excitement, that’s all it is. Wait a few days, then you’ll see. It’ll become a boring, tiresome affair,” he nodded.
I grinned.
“Sure hope not.”
I glanced around the subway car. The majority of people were reading newspapers or paperback books; a few even held up hardcovers. I looked at Timmy reading, and I was happy. But where did this notion of his being my helper come from, because that’s what he certainly was—coming upon me in Times Square and taking me into his home. I wonder if people meet that way and somehow know that this person is someone they’ve just been dying to meet, just as that person was doing the same, dying to meet them as well. Do they feel it in the slowness of the subway train as it crawls uptown? Do they feel just how near their destiny is? Or do they just arrive at their stop, take their things and just get up and leave?
I shook my head. We had come to the 86
^th
Street stop.
“Pardon me.” Timmy was beside me, pushing his way through the crowd. “Pardon.” I was right after him.
When we got to the platform, Timmy was sweaty and wiping his brow.
“It seems to be worsening, each day the crowd getting bigger and bigger. More people are moving uptown. It wasn’t like this just a few years ago.”
We went up the subway stairs and were on Broadway.
“No difference up here,” he continued, “but at least you can
breathe
up here.”
I nodded. “Yeah, I don’t think the guy next to me had any deodorant on, the smell was pretty powerful.”
“Hmm, I smelled that, thought it was you.”
I laughed. “You like that smell?”
“Only if it comes from you,” he winked and opened the front door.
“I think it’s gross,” I squirmed and shook my head.
“I agree; a little deodorant always helps.”
We reached the second floor and saw Henry’s door was ajar.
“Hmm, he must be back.” Timmy knocked on the halfopen door. “Henry, you in here?”
We heard someone walking through the apartment; it was Henry, looking a little worn.
“You’re back quickly.”
Henry shrugged.
“Jewish funerals: They’re done pretty fast.”
Timmy cleared his throat.
“This is Billy, I believe you’ve met?”
We shook hands as Henry readjusted the skullcap he was wearing.
“Yes, yes, we met. Didn’t know you’d ever have a roommate again.”
Timmy smiled. “You mean, at my age?”
Henry vehemently shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re still a very young man.” He winked at me. “Anyway, we’re almost the same age.”
“Not as young as Billy is, eh?” He put his arm around my shoulder, winking at me, too. I blushed and looked down. “Again, our condolences.” Henry nodded and we went upstairs.
“Seems like a nice man,” I said on the stairs. Timmy put his finger on his lips.
“He can’t seem to get a roommate,” he whispered. “Every month he has someone else there,” he opened the door, “and they always argue and argue.” He shrugged. “Nothing I can do about that, is there?” He shut door. “As long as I have you, that’s all I need.”
We were in each other’s arms. It was like we’d been waiting just for this moment. We fell on the bed, hugging and feeling each other up as we threw our clothes on the floor. I tried going down on him but he held me off. “Do it this way,” he said, turning me around and bending me forward, with him clutching my waist. I didn’t understand at first but felt his penis probe my asshole.
“No, I can’t,” I said, quickly turning around. “I never did it like that, you know, getting it up the ass.”
He fell on the bed. “Of course, I understand, just thought you did. There are many other things we can do to make us both happy.” I cuddled beside him, his arm around me, my head resting on his chest.
“I want to learn,” I said, looking up at him. “I had never sucked anyone before you, but now I like it very much. Same with taking it from behind, you’ll have to teach me. Please teach me,” I said, staring at him. “I want so much to learn.” I lowered my eyes, gently rubbing the nipple at his chest.
We kissed.
“I think its best we bathe and get warmed up. That will loosen us up, getting rid of the cares and woes, don’t you agree?”
I nodded.
“Yes. Yes, I do,” I said, rubbing my hungry ass cheeks.

The hot tub was ready and I stepped in, easing down in the very warm water, its soothing comfort feeling lavish. Earlier, as we’d walked across the room, he had lovingly squeezed and tweaked my buttocks, even probing with a finger. He’d gotten a small jar of Vaseline from the medicine cabinet.

“I haven’t used it since Danny was alive,” he said sadly. “Never thought I’d be using it again. It makes for a good insertion,” he said, and he winked.

But I was no longer afraid; this was a man whom I loved and who loved me in return.
“A pity I can’t step in with you,” he said, shaking his head. “The tub’s too small for that. But you wash up and get relaxed in the hot water, it will open you up and I’ll get in after you’re done, okay, sweetie?”
I nodded, watching him leave. I took a small bar of soap and lathered myself, spending a little extra time on my backside, shoving the soap in and out and doing it over again. I don’t know if the soap fucked me or not—it entered slightly, but did it go deep enough? Still, I felt refreshed, clean and eager for anything, no matter how deep it went in, but I sure was ready.
I walked into the bedroom, wiping my hair and feeling myself getting erect. Timmy set down the book he was reading, got up from the bed, and came over to me. Again he tweaked my ass, rubbing my buttocks and momentarily trying to insert his finger. I didn’t care what he was doing, even bending me over for better insertion.
“Let me get in the tub,” he said, still rubbing my ass. “We’ll both feel renewed and refreshed.” He winked and went to the bathroom.
“Hurry up,” I called after him. “I can’t wait.” Quietly I added, “Ass fucking, that’s what I’m going to get.”
I shrugged, giggling, and finished wiping myself. I stood before the long mirror in front of his closet, tweaking and squeezing my buttocks. I turned around, holding them up high, and getting a better view of my asshole. Oh, God, right in my ass, what a lovely feeling that would be!
I went to the bed and lay on it, looked at what he was reading.
The Confessions of Nat Turner
by William Styron. I didn’t open it. Too deep for me, that’s for sure. Thought about Connie and Miss Terri. What were they doing now? Arguing bitterly or tenderly caressing each other? I couldn’t imagine Miss Terri being tender. I shivered and shook my head. I doubted if Connie would be able to argue back. She’d probably stand there with her head lowered as Miss Terri spat venom at her.
I turned over and lay on my chest, holding my ass up in the air, positioning it in various ways and craning my head to see what the best angle would be. Timmy came out, his eyes wide and staring at my round, eager buttocks.
“Hmm, very lovely, I must say.” He licked his lips and got on the bed, lowering himself over me. He cooed in my ear about how lovely I was, all the while rubbing my asshole with Vaseline, trying to push himself in. Suddenly I panicked. I squirmed under him and twisted around to face him, falling onto my back.
“I’m scared, very scared,” I mumbled. “And ashamed, too—”
“Oh, bosh, don’t be. Just a natural reaction and fear of something new. I was the same many years ago, when it was my first time.”
“You were?”
“Uh huh,” he nodded. “And the big boy was very rough and crude in his drunkenness.” I saw he had gotten sad as he lay atop me.
“Please tell me,” I whispered. “I want to know what it was like for you.”
He looked at me.
“Yes, I’ll tell you. We were just kids,” he said, slowly shaking his head. “It was in the 1940s and I so much wanted to be an adult. I used to hang out with the older boys. We lived outside of Pittsburgh, and most boys were in the Army. The boys I hung out with always had good times, but didn’t do anything rough. I think I was their mascot for a time and I felt good, good and proud that I was accepted by them.”
He still lay atop me but his hands were at my head, his fingers stroking my hair. I was beneath him, with my legs open as I felt his stiff penis pressed against mine.
“I liked this one boy, Sidney, and I was sure he liked me, too. But one day he showed up drunk and wanted us all to go into the woods. The other boys refused, told him to go home and sleep it off, but Sidney said “fuck off,” and started staggering into the woods. I watched him disappear, nervously jumped up and ran after him. I caught up to him and he put his arm around me, shoulder to shoulder, and we staggered on.”
My legs had gone around his thighs and my heels tapped gently against his buttocks. He looked at me.
“You like that,” he asked. “Rubbing against my backside?”
I nodded. “Same as you do, tweaking my ass,” I shrugged. “But tell me what happened in the woods.”
“As we walked, he started talking about his old girlfriend, the one who just had gotten married to someone else. ‘I used to fuck her like a pig,’ he’d say ‘because she was one, who took it in the ass because she wanted to stay a virgin for husband that she’d meet one day.’ What a bunch of malarkey girls spread in those days.” He shook his head, “as I’m sure they’re still doing.”
I had moved my legs, lifting them to his waist, and he readily put his arms under them, holding my legs braced behind my knees. I think the realization of what we had maneuvered ourselves into suddenly hit us that we were ripe for a fucking, an ass-fucking, just as a man did with a woman, or a man did with man, and I was playing the part of the woman.
“And,” I asked, “what happened then?”
I felt his penis prodding against my asshole; a look of wonder showed in his eyes.
“Amazing, I have never done it this way before, it’s simply amazing.”
I felt his penis struggling and pushing in against my tight, resistant asshole. I knew I had to be in a relaxed mood or it would never break through the stubborn, resistant sphincter, no matter how much Vaseline he’d used. But his penis probed and slowly pushed in.
“In an instant he had my pants off, twisted me around and he entered me from the rear.” He stopped, as if marveling at what we were doing. “Amazing, simply amazing, that it could be like this, face to face.” He probed in a little more, man to man, ass to dick, deeper and deeper, playing the
mating game!
He was in me! “There was a little blood but he fucked me and staggered off into the woods. You could say I was growing up.”
“Oh, yes,” I cried brokenly. “Oh, God, Jesus, yes, fuck me!”
He had broken through and stared at me. His eyes were wide and surprised and he was pumping within me. He ejaculated, I was sure of it; it felt wonderful, his seed spilling within me, a splash, a gush that was saturating me and made me feel encapsulated in wonderment that it was him and what he was doing to me. Oh, God, did I feel a man! I opened my tired eyes and sought out his tongue and mouth with my own, wanting him inside of me forever. We kissed open-mouthed; our saliva ran. We were wet down below, saturated above, freed to love each other. I ejaculated, my semen spitting out on his belly and quickly smearing our flesh in our satisfied pleasure.
His penis relaxed and came out, but it felt like something in me was hurrying to replace it, the scum once again brewing and boiling, like water or cream was in me, getting ready for eruption. His semen flowed out of my ass—it was part of my biological response to his body. And I loved it!
He collapsed exhausted by my side, panting. I was spent and tired also—needless to say, an ass-fucking takes a lot out of you. Still, it’s a wonderful feeling of rejuvenation once the fear and confusion are gone.
“Did you like it?” he asked, breathing heavily.
“Uh huh, made me feel a part of you and for a moment we were one, even better than doing sixty nine. It was wonderful!”
I pushed myself up on my elbows and looked at him. We kissed.
“Billy, you were wonderful!”
“So were you, daddy,” I said shyly. “So were you.” I snuggled into his chest.

Weeks passed. Sometimes the work was dull and boring, other times busy and explosive. You never knew when a customer was going to ask for a book. It was impossible to say when it would happen; sometimes a filled bookstore with customers, reading, turning pages, and not one question, at other times you’d be inundated by requests about certain titles.
Do you have the novel by Graham Greene, or Saul Bellow, or John Updike? Yes, ma’am; no, sir.
By the end of the month I pretty well knew every fiction title in stock.

Connie and Miss Terri were still antagonistic toward me— Connie a little less so, Miss Terri more so. I began to feel that Miss Terri’s hatred of men was a natural, inborn emotion, that she could do nothing about it. After one month I was called into Miss Terri’s office. She sat with pen in hand and paper before her.

“I’m signing your paper,” she said, scribbling her name. “Your probation is over. You are now officially a Floor Clerk. That will be all.”

“Thank you,” I said, smiling at her. “Thank you very much.” She looked me but didn’t say anything. I left but I was very ecstatic. They were letting me stay; I had made the grade!

“I knew they would give it to you. They couldn’t refuse keeping you; you had too many friends on your side.”
Later that evening, as we talked about Connie and Miss Terri, he told me about the roles they played.
“In relationships,” he said, “one will take a woman’s part and one will take a man’s, no matter what sex they are; the world goes around like that.”
I pondered this.
“So you’d say I was the woman in our relationship?”
“If you want to be. But it really doesn’t matter. You can play
both parts
, man and woman, be whichever you want to be. Sometimes I don’t even know which you are, which
I
am. And it’s wonderful not knowing; each day is a discovery.” He shook his head. “Don’t ever change, keep probing, keep asking; keep getting underneath things to find out what they
really
are. Hold that perennial question in you, always keep asking,
Is this what life is all about?
You’ll find out the majority of people haven’t the slightest clue.” Again he shook his head and laughed. “Hell, sometimes I don’t even know.”
I looked at him, my eyes moistening.
“You’re my sweet bookstore clerk,” he said, his arms about me.
We fell together. That’s what I’d always wanted to be, a bookstore clerk.