Silken Web
by Ivor Slipper
Chapter 2
The water was starting to feel cold as he moved in the bath, so Brandon gingerly hauled himself out and stood on the tile floor to grab a towel. It hurt as he bent over to pull the plug and let the water run out. Then he dried himself, gently patting into the area between his legs, while doing so taking frequent glances at the towel to see how badly it was stained. By the time he'd finished there was some blood on it, but not so much that he considered he needed to ditch the towel, which might cause problems if his Pa noticed it was missing. Instead he gathered up some other laundry and put it all in the washing machine and set it to work. He went back to his bedroom, pulled on a pair of sweat pants and a sports shirt, tube socks and trainers. Once dressed he went back to the kitchen and found a black sack into which he dumped the remnants of the silk briefs and stockings, together with the mini-skirt, blouse and finally the blonde wig. Picking up his car keys from his nightstand with one hand and with the black sack in the other he left the apartment. He was going to see Doctor Rawlings and the sack would be tossed into the first dumpster he came across in town. Brandon had decided that his female life was over.
Doc Rawlings had a look at his ass and without asking any questions could tell what had happened. However, he assured Brandon that the damage was not very severe and no hospital treatment would be needed. Instead he handed him some cream to ease the pain from a small stock of samples a drug company representative had given him. Brandon was grateful for that as it would save him the potential embarrassment of having to get a prescription filled at the pharmacy. He also warned him that for the next few days taking a shit was going to be painful and finally suggested that in the future he should ensure his boyfriend used lubrication and took things more gently. Brandon felt like saying that there wasn't ever going to be a next time, but for sure there wasn't going to be any sort of next time ever again with Chuck.
After he left the Doc's he walked past the bank where his Ma worked, but as he'd anticipated, he didn't see her. A few doors further down the block was a barber's shop, and making a spur of the moment decision he went in, emerging a half hour or so later with a buzz cut in place of his golden slightly curly hair. He'd looked at himself after it was done and rather liked what he saw; maybe, he thought to himself, he could start doing some weight training to add some muscle to his body. He was never going to change his basic appearance, but he could at least make himself appear a little less girlish.
The Doc had been right – taking his first shit the next day almost had him screaming, but that slowly got easier as the days passed. By the time three weeks had elapsed, the physical scars had healed, but the mental ones remained. At least Chuck had kept his distance and also kept his mouth shut it seemed.
Brandon had a job working as a server at one of the diners in town. He'd struggled a bit during the first few days after Chuck had violated him, but he needed the money so had to keep working. About a month later, late morning, a young man came in and sat down at one of Brandon's tables. Brandon walked over, coffee pot in hand, offered to pour and then asked,
"Is there anything I can get you this morning, Mr Dawkins?"
The young man looked up with a startled expression on his face.
"How did you know my name?"
Brandon smiled,
"It's okay. I'm not a mind reader; your name and picture are on the card that's on the cord round your neck."
Mr. Dawkins, blushed, grabbed at it, gave it a glance as if to check it really was him, pulled the cord over his neck, and then said,
"Oh Lord, I'm supposed to take this off whenever I leave the bank. I've only been there a couple of weeks and I'm not used to everything as yet."
"I've heard St Louis Trust & Savings is a good place to work – at least that's what my Ma says. But, can I get you anything, sir?"
"I think we can dispense with the 'Sir' Brandon. I'm only on a short break, but a doughnut would be good."
"Coming right up, Mr Dawkins – Sir."
Brandon added the sir deliberately and with a big smile, feeling some sort of pleasant vibes coming his way from the young man. When he returned a couple of minutes later, he took a good look at his customer. He was about the same height as himself, but more solidly built. He'd also had a buzz cut, but it was evidently a couple of weeks old and his black hair was now about a couple of inches long. He had a pleasant face, with grey eyes slightly hidden behind a pair of metal framed glasses. He was dressed for business with a pair of black oxford shoes, grey pants, short sleeve white shirt and a regulation striped tie.
Mr Dawkins did indeed only stay for a short while, but he was back again the next day and the one after that which was a Friday. Brandon was working on the Saturday and didn't expect to see Dawkins until the Monday, but around the time the lunch rush was ending, he appeared and made for one of the tables Brandon served.
Brandon arrived with the coffee.
"Didn't expect to see you today, Mr Dawkins; doughnut as usual?"
"Brandon, do you think it would break the rules if you called me Mark? And today I need something more substantial; what do you recommend?"
Brandon felt something inside when he heard the first sentence, but it wasn't in his groin.
"The chef cooks a mean lasagne – and if you've still got room afterwards, his lemon meringue pie is pretty good too."
Mark indicated that he'd go with Brandon's recommendations. That day the diner wasn't very busy and there was the chance for the two to exchange a few sentences as Brandon delivered the food and took away the plates. When the last of the crockery was removed, Mark asked for his bill and when it arrived he pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and started to count out some bills. As he did so he looked at Brandon and said,
"This could be a big mistake, but what time do you finish?"
Brandon immediately blushed. He'd made up his mind after Chuck that he was going to change his life and stop being the town cocksucker. Now he was being offered…..what? Mark had seemed like a decent young man and Brandon guessed he was only a couple of years older than him. Should he or shouldn't he?
As if sensing his uncertainty, Mark added,
"Look, I only moved to town a couple of weeks back. I don't know anyone and the weekends get a bit lonely. Just wondered if you might like going to the movies or bowling?"
"Or both?" replied Brandon, amazing himself that those words had escaped his lips.
Mark chuckled. "Why not? There's plenty of the day left."
"I finish at four. If you want to, come back then and we'll go bowling."
"See ya then," said Mark as he stood up and walked out of the diner. Brandon watched him go. He looked different today, dressed in a pair of tight fitting blue denims that hugged a very well formed butt, a short sleeve check sports shirt and, while the footwear was still black, today it was a pair of Vans.
Brandon drew in a deep breath. Was he about to commit another error or was this going to be something different, or was it just someone lonely seeking company? No doubt he'd know more in a few hours.
Just before 4pm Brandon spotted Mark standing on the sidewalk outside the diner, so he'd obviously meant what he'd said. They walked to the bowling alley without saying much to each other. Brandon wasn't a sporty type but he did enjoy bowling although he wasn't better than average. He feared that Mark might be a demon, but as it turned out they were about as good as each other. Having enjoyed the first game they played a second and by now were beginning to talk to each other. When the second game was complete and having won one each they had to go for a decider. A bet was made that the loser would pay for a soda and burger afterwards which Brandon ended up buying. While they sat with their food Mark revealed that he'd worked for the bank in another town but had been offered promotion to move here. He wavered about taking it as it meant moving away from living with his parents and leaving his friends, but had finally decided if he didn't take the offer he was unlikely to be offered a promotion again. So now he had a small apartment, a new job and no friends. Brandon could sympathise about having no friends, but suspected there wasn't much chance of him getting a new job and zero prospect of him getting an apartment of his own.
After leaving the bowling alley they made tracks for the cinema and enjoyed watching Never Go Back although Mark who had evidently read the book pointed out that having Tom Cruise play the part of Jack Reacher didn't strike him as being the best piece of casting from Hollywood. When the left the cinema they headed back to where Brandon had left his car. As they were walking along the sidewalk Brandon suddenly felt Mark's arm go round his waist and pull the pair of them together. Startled, he exclaimed,
"What the fuck did you do that for?"
"Look behind you, Brandon. You were about to walk into that fire hydrant."
Brandon looked over his shoulder and it was true. He'd been lost in thought and could have had a nasty injury had not Mark pulled him out of harm's way.
"Oh, thanks, Mark. That could have been painful. Sorry for swearing at you."
"Yeah, well just don't make a habit of it."
Brandon had enjoyed the few hours he'd spent with Mark. It had felt like for once he was with someone on equal terms. He made a decision.
"What you doing tomorrow?"
"Nothing, I guess."
"How about I come pick you up and we go for a drive? Show you some of the country round here."
"That'd be great. What time?"
"How does elevenish suit you?"
"Fine with me. See you then."
"Better tell me where you live, I guess."
Mark laughed and gave Brandon the details. They said goodnight to each other and Brandon drove home feeling better than he had for a long time.
The next day Brandon drove them out to a nearby lake. It was possible there to hire a boat and the pair had fun in a rowing boat for a couple of hours before returning to dry land. After getting something to eat, they stretched out on the grass. Although they'd only known each other for a short time, they each felt at ease in the other's company, and as the afternoon wore on Brandon told Mark some of his history, but without going into any real detail of his sexual exploits. Mark was similarly somewhat cautious in what he said. There had been a comfortable silence between them for a few minutes when Mark asked,
"You've not got any real close friends then, or a girlfriend?"
Brandon wondered where this was going, but responded,
"Nope. I was never with the 'in' crowd at school and there isn't a girl. What about you?"
Mark hesitated and Brandon sensed he was trying to prepare a suitable reply.
"No girlfriends. I did have one friend I thought was special, but……….."
He tailed off. Brandon wondered if he should let the moment pass or seize it. Something made him decide to seize it.
"But, what?"
Now there was an even longer silence.
"Aw shit, Brandon. I might just be about to lose my only friend in this town if I tell you."
Realisation flooded in on Brandon.
"You're gay, aren't you? So am I so you won't lose me. I could be like a limpet."
Mark let out a noise that was a cross between a deep sigh and a laugh.
"No, not a limpet, but you might turn out to be Barnacle Brandon, I guess."
Brandon roared with laughter – something he had almost forgotten how to do.
When he'd recovered he said,
"That's quite a thought, but I don't want to be called that in public."
"Deal. But while we're being honest with each other, there's something I haven't told you. There was another reason why I took this promotion."
Again Mark paused, but this time Brandon just sat and waited and after a minute or so Mark spoke again.
"Like I said, I had this friend I thought was special. We'd been doing things together for years. I thought we were right for each other and then suddenly he gets a girlfriend, cuts me dead and tells the world at large that I'm a fag and tried to go down on him when we'd been sucking each other's dicks for years. I couldn't stay in town after that."
The pair had been lying on their back on the grass. Now Brandon rolled onto his side and joined his hand with Mark's.
He plucked up his courage.
"If we're gonna be friends, then you need to know about me."
Now Mark rolled to face Brandon.
"You don't have to tell me anything, Brandon."
"Yes, I do. I've got a reputation around town as a cocksucker. 'If you want the best blow job go see Brandon' was the word at school. It was the way I survived, but a few weeks back someone fucked me. I'd never done that before and I didn't want it, but he did it. I'm telling you because I don't know if I'll ever want to do that again."
Having got that far, Brandon broke down and the tears started to flow. He didn't realise it initially, but Mark took him into a hug and then proceeded to stroke his back until the tears dried up.
By now the best of the day had passed, and once Brandon was fully recovered, they went and got a drink and a snack. As they walked back towards where the car had been parked, Brandon let his right hand find Mark's left until they had to separate to get into the car. On the journey back Mark let his left hand find Brandon's thigh and was pleased when there was no initial objection and then Brandon placed his right hand on top of it.
When they drew up outside Mark's apartment block, the hands stayed as they were for a couple of minutes until Mark spoke.
"Do you wanna come up and see my little apartment?"
Brandon disengaged his hand, took the key from the ignition and opened his door.
"Let's go see!"
They walked up a couple of flights of stairs before Mark opened the door to his apartment. As he told Brandon – it wasn't big. A small kitchen could be seen beyond the room they were immediately in on crossing the threshold. Brandon could see two more doors which he presumed must be a bathroom and bedroom.
"I think it's cool. At least it's yours. Maybe one day I'll get something similar."
They stood slightly awkwardly side by side, neither knowing what to say.
"Do you want a beer?" offered Mark.
"If I have one I won't be able to drive."
"Mmm. Have two and stay the night?" proffered Mark.
"Is that what you say to all your boyfriends?"
Brandon said that and immediately regretted opening his big mouth.
"No, only the ones I really want to stay."
Brandon breathed a sigh of relief that was so big he felt sure it was audible in the apartment below.
"Best go get 'em then."
Mark disappeared into the kitchen and returned smiling and holding two cold bottles of Bud. Giving one to Brandon, he sat on the settee and Brandon sat beside him. They sipped in unison; as they did so their fingers intertwined. The silence was pleasurable but Mark broke it after a couple of minutes to go into the kitchen again, returning with a bowl of chips that he placed on a small table in front of where they sat. Now they sipped and munched until the bottles were empty.
"Do you really want the second?" asked Mark almost in a whisper.
"They say the second taste better than the first."
"Never heard that one, but let's find out,"
Mark said as he got up and went to the kitchen returning with two more bottles. These were sipped more slowly than the first bottle, neither of them apparently being anxious to finish first but at last two empty bottles were placed on the table.
Mark took off his glasses and stood up; Brandon stood too, noticing properly the color of Mark's striking eyes. Mark leant forward and planted a small peck on Brandon's lips. Brandon couldn't recall being kissed by anyone other than his Ma – kissing wasn't required when giving a blow job. It felt nice and he gave Mark one in return. Mark pulled Brandon close and kissed him again, this time managing to insert his tongue between Brandon's lips. The tongue was accepted and soon Brandon's found its way into Mark's mouth. Brandon felt a stirring in his groin followed by the feeling of Mark's hardness pressing into him.
Taking Brandon by the hand Mark led him to the bedroom.
Now it seemed neither was quite sure what to do until Mark pulled Brandon close and whispered in his ear,
"If you just want to lie on the bed fully clothed, that's alright with me."
Brandon was almost brought to tears again by those words. How different Mark was to Chuck, he thought. He heeled one of his trainers off; Mark did the same. He heeled the other off and Mark again did the same. He sat on the bed and pulled off a sock. Mark sat beside him and did the same. He took off the other sock and again Mark followed. Now he stood up and pulled his sports shirt over his head. This time Mark was virtually pulling his off at the same time. Having tossed his shirt on the floor Mark pulled Brandon into a hug, kissed him and let his hands run gently over his chest and back. Brandon wriggled and sighed with pleasure at the sensations he was feeling. When the touch of Mark's hands became almost too much to bear, he undid his belt and the top button of his jeans before sitting back on the bed and pulling down the zip. Mark was sat alongside him, replicating every move he made. Brandon raised his butt and pushed his jeans down before extricating his feet from them, leaving himself in just a pair of Fruit of the Loom black boxer briefs. By the time he'd finished doing that, he saw Mark alongside him now clad only in a pair of white CK boxer briefs.
Once again Mark embraced and kissed him. Brandon could see that Mark was hard and a spot of pre-cum was visible on his white briefs. Brandon knew that he was also leaking. Mark whispered into his ear once more.
"Brandon, you decide what we do now; as little or as much as you want."
Brandon realized for the first time in his life what it felt like to have someone, apart from his Ma, who really cared for, maybe even loved, him. He knew that this was so different to anything he had experienced previously in his life.
He broke away from the embrace, smiled at Mark and very deliberately pushed Mark's briefs down rapidly, followed by his own before climbing into the bed. Once there he lay on his back and stretched out his arms towards Mark saying,
"Do you wanna test my barnacleness?"
Mark grinned down at him.
"We could end up really stuck together by morning."
I sure hope so Brandon said to himself as Mark slowly and gently lowered himself to lie on top. Once settled there Brandon wrapped his arms around his soon to be lover and opened his mouth so their tongues could begin their dance.
Authors deserve your feedback. It's the only payment they get. If you go to the top of the page you will find the author's name. Click that and you can email the author easily.* Please take a few moments, if you liked the story, to say so.
[For those who use webmail, or whose regular email client opens when they want to use webmail instead: Please right click the author's name. A menu will open in which you can copy the email address (it goes directly to your clipboard without having the courtesy of mentioning that to you) to paste into your webmail system (Hotmail, Gmail, Yahoo etc). Each browser is subtly different, each Webmail system is different, or we'd give fuller instructions here. We trust you to know how to use your own system. Note: If the email address pastes or arrives with %40 in the middle, replace that weird set of characters with an @ sign.]
* Some browsers may require a right click instead
