The Jerk-Off
by Jack Lynch
Chapter 14
I Don't Know If I'm Ready.
Flat on his back, Dino stared at the ceiling mounted mirror over his bed. What a lucky guy! After a satisfied yawn, he looked at himself a little more critically, trying to suck his stomach in. Maybe I should cut back a bit on the Osso Buco , he thought, patting his tummy and watching it jiggle in the mirror. Although, giving it a second thought, it had tasted so damn good last night. A fabulous dinner at his favorite restaurant, Piero's. A joint richly decorated in dark wood, Italianate painted ceilings, with curved leather banquettes. A favorite of people like him, in the business.
Next to him, playfully feeding him his dinner, a true Bella Donna. Mamma Mia! Short blonde hair, cut in a crisp page boy. Narrow blue eyes, a small cute nose, thin lips. Silken skin, tea cup size tits with nipples so pointy and hard they could probably cut glass. Slender. And, then there was that ass. Round globes, perfectly firm. You could probably bounce quarters off of those cheeks. She must have known what kind of effect she was having, parading her derrière around like that, her thong showcasing what anyone, man or beast, would call perfection.
When he sidled up to her at the pool bar yesterday, he had no idea if he'd even have a chance.
"What'll ya have, sweetie?" he'd asked her.
His hopes were momentarily dashed when she turned her head, first icily looking him up and down, then giving him a smirk. She turned her head away for a moment, then back, stifling a smile with the back of her hand.
"I don't know, mister. What are you selling?" She placed the other hand on her hip, a brash, don't fuck with me look now on her face. God! That voice! Low and clear. A combination of Jane Fonda and Jamie Lee Curtis. Perfectly intoxicating.
She had a certain bitch quality that he found positively magnetic. She was annoyingly dismissive when she viewed his penthouse apartment at the Bellagio. Every other woman he'd ever brought up there had practically melted when they saw the opulence and the view. Not this one.
She looked around, shrugged, and asked, "You got anything to drink?"
While Dino was still recounting his good fortune, Claire Keesey was in the nearby bathroom, supposedly freshening up. Phone in hand, she pressed two buttons and her phone instantly connected to a secure government server. She thumbed in a one word message— contact .
Across the country, in Washington, D.C., a tech received the message, copied it to another server, and forwarded it up the food chain. SAC Wy Valdespino viewed the message on his computer's display and sat back in his chair with a satisfied smirk. He picked up his phone and punched in four numbers.
"We're in," he said when the Deputy Director answered.
"Thank you. I'll notify the Director," he responded in a quiet voice, barely above a whisper.
Valdespino sat back and looked at his notes on the Barzini investigation. It was true that they had a little party when they found out Orly Keogh had been disposed of. But, rather than taking a back seat in the investigation, they were secretly ratcheting up their efforts to nail Dino Barzini to a long list of offenses ranging from coercion and bribery to kidnapping and murder.
Not surprisingly, Dino's latest initiative was a foray into the trendy world of shoplifting. Gangs were already entrenched in several major cities, the most recent being the Twin Cities. The FBI hadn't had much luck cracking any other location, but Tookie kind of fell into their laps. Long story short, he had folded like a cheap suit or, in Tookie's case, like a cheap dress. Picked up by Minneapolis Vice for soliciting an undercover cop for sex. At the time, he was wearing a purple lamé dress, way too tight for his three-hundred-fifty-pound girth.
In the interrogation room, the cop stared warily at the buttons straining the front of Tookie's dress.
"One of those things pop off and you're gonna put somebody's eye out," he yelped.
His get-up also included a lime green wig with matching eyeliner. Combined with his kinky black goatee, he looked a half of a degree short of ridiculous.
It only took one little threat that they might leak his predicament to Mingo and he was theirs. Blubbering like a baby, Tookie told the cops Mingo would likely feed his nuts to some unsuspecting squirrel in the park. After he cut them off, of course. In spite of the fact that Mingo occasionally enjoyed having some boy's lips wrapped around his unit, he hated queers, especially someone like him who flirted with his own gender identity.
After an interrogation that could only be described as spirited, illegal of course, the cops learned about The Highs's connection to The Mafia, specifically the Barzini's. Since then, Tookie had loyally fed the Fibbies a constant stream of information. It was being collected, analyzed, and charted along with everything else about Dino and his boys. When it finally came down, it was really going to come down.
In the meantime, Orly's demise had certainly piqued the FBI's interest. Who did it and why were currently open questions, but the incident had a decidedly Barzini smell to it. Senior Agent Claire Keesey and her attractive assets, specifically her ass, had been deployed to get inside the Barzini gang and take a lookee look around.
Dickie Lee wound his way along the narrow beach, barefoot, his boat shoes under his arm. The water lapped softly against the shore. A small lake crab scuttled past his foot.
Linnie Lee was right where he figured she'd be at this time of the day, sitting at a small picnic table on her porch, just a few feet from the shore. As he approached, he could see her hand shaking slightly as she tipped a few drops of olive juice from a jar into her martini glass.
"I guess it was five o'clock somewhere, about three hours ago," Dickie Lee said as he walked up the steps.
Linnie Lee barely looked up.
"What do you want, dear brother?" she slurred in a sarcastic voice. She turned her gaze to study the one olive hanging out near the bottom of her glass.
"Linnie, Linnie, Linnie," Dickie Lee said, trying to sound mildly sympathetic. "Got some trouble with the law?" He slumped down into a deck chair across from her.
No response, other than a mild grunt.
"Too bad about your boy friend. I never took you for someone who was attracted to baldies," he chided.
"He wasn't my boy friend. I only ever talked to him the once."
"So, what was the deal with him, anyway?"
"I was gonna buy you guys out." She paused, "With his money, or somebody's money, I mean."
"And you were gonna get?"
"I was gonna get a bill taken care of."
"Jesus, Linnie! More gambling debt? How much?"
"It's up to around two and quarter now, I guess," she responded in a sullen voice.
Dickie Lee looked out in the distance, shaking his head in disgust.
"How about I take care of that loan for you?" A pause. "And spot you another two twenty-five so you can make a fresh start?"
"Where you gonna get that kind of money, Dickie Lee?"
"Gee, honey. You're not the only one who has backers."
"What do you get out of it?"
"I want your piece."
Hand shaking, Linnie Lee picked the glass up and took a large gulp of her drink.
"How quick can we get this done?"
"Quick."
Minutes later, Dickie Lee was back at his place.
"I got 'er done, Zoov!" he yelled into the phone.
"How much she go for?"
"Four-fifty!" Dickie Lee chuckled.
Arrangements were made. With Dickie Lee on hold, Zoov made a quick call, relayed the news, and clicked back to Dickie Lee with the information that papers and the money would be arriving the next day.
Dickie Lee was impressed, but his mind was on other things.
"You think you can get that Black kid over here so I can treat him to some dinner?"
"I bring him myself. Maybe a couple more of my boys."
"The more the merrier!" Dickie Lee sang out.
"What have you got for me?" Shamus asked, his phone on speaker as he stared at his laptop's display.
"Some interesting factoids, I guess," the tech responded. "If you're into factoids."
"Go on."
"There's forty-three people in the 612 area code having the first name, Clark."
"That's not an insurmountable number to look at."
"Just for the fun of it, I ran a list of all of those people who have the last name, Clark."
"Mmmm, yes. Good idea."
"Three-eighty," the tech said. "And then, just for shits and giggles, I did a search for people with the first names of either Clarkson or Clarkton."
"Never thought of that!"
"Just eight."
Shamus chuckled. "Send them all over, will ya?"
Moments later, the lists were in his inbox. While they were printing, he went back to the chapter summaries for his book. I wonder if there's enough butt-fucking between chapters eight and thirteen , he asked himself?
Dread, fear, excitement, and anticipation had been rolling around in the pit of his stomach all afternoon, barely interrupted even during a rousing game of one-on-one's with a couple of his teammates. At times C.O. could feel his cock thickening. He was afraid to look down for fear the outline of it against his shorts might give him away and he'd be taunted for popping a boner.
C.O. had never dared do anything with another guy, even though he'd known he was Gay for practically as long as he could remember. Even in elementary school, he developed mini-crushes on other boys. Thinking at first that his attraction was more like admiration, then his mind taking it a step further to idolatry and obsession. Confusion came when his leg knocked against someone or he gave another boy a side tickle, delighting in watching him giggle and squirm away. He felt a tingle but, beyond that, he had no clue what to do about it or what it meant.
Instead, he made every effort to impress other boys by using his athletic prowess. He worked hard at basketball, dribbled a ball everywhere he went, and was blessed with some decent height when he hit puberty. Then, all of a sudden, he got good and a lot taller. Once in awhile, another boy's admiration, sometimes jealousy, seemed to fall into another category. Either he was too naive to pick up the clues or, more than likely, there wasn't anything there.
He was hardly aware that Thayer even existed. But, his dipshit little cousin, Romey, just went on and on about him. When they encountered each other at the Ledecker barbecue, he was in a playful mood. It wasn't until he politely teased Thayer about the nickname Ten Ethyl had given him that something inside clicked.
A brief cuddle on the Wilson family's deck, one kiss, his first kiss, not nearly long enough, and C.O. was all in.
He leaned back, supporting himself with his arms, and stretched his legs out on the stone ledge just below the deserted cabin. Having arrived on Bird Island a few minutes earlier, C.O. gazed at the opposite shore—Ledecker Island. Golden hour, barely a breeze, the water softly lapping against rocks nearby, tall reeds waving softly.
Just minutes later, he heard the sound of an outboard as it throttled down and died. A bump against the dock on the other side of the island, and moments later, Thayer was sitting next to him.
At first, they just sat and talked. Then, with a sigh, C.O. took Thayer's hand. He tried to remain calm, even though his heart felt like it might pound right out of his chest. They entwined their fingers, twisting them together in an attempt to maximize the contact between them. Thayer looked down at his pale hand, smaller than C.O.'s.
They stared at each other for the longest time. C.O. was the first to speak, after he cleared his throat.
"There was ease in Casey's manner as he stepped into his place;there was pride in Casey's bearing and a smile on Casey's face.And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,no stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Casey at the bat."
Thayer broke into a high giggle.
"You memorized that?" he asked. He had an incredulous look on his face.
"Well, that part, anyway." C.O. chuckled himself, his eyes twinkling. "Took me most of the afternoon to get it down.
"Oh. My. God! Why?"
C.O. shrugged.
"I dunno. I guess I wanted to try to impress you with something."
"That is so sweet, I can't even stand it!" Without thinking, Thayer put his arm around C.O.'s shoulder and punched a kiss into the side of his head.
Thayer pulled away, shocked at his own boldness. C.O. turned to him, grabbing his forearm as if he was going to push him back. Instead, he pulled Thayer in. A split second later, their lips were melded together, tongues jammed down each other's throats.
When they finally paused to catch their breaths, Thayer had somehow gotten turned to the side so that he was laying partially across C.O.'s lap, in essence cradled in his arms.
"God, you're gorgeous!" C.O. gazed down at Thayer, his fingers lightly brushing the dark hair out of his eyes. They were so vivid, almost as if he was wearing eye makeup. Chocolate brown eyes surrounded by long eyelashes, so long and distinctive that, if C.O. took his time, he could probably count them. Full pink lips. A couple of pinpoint moles on the side of his head, near his left eye.
He brushed his fingers along Thayer's eyebrows eliciting a giggle.
"I just wanted to see if they were real," C.O. said. Crazy thick, comical in one sense, but so alluring in another. "They may be your finest feature, at least as far as I know right now."
Thayer blushed.
"You know what the girls call you, don't you?" C.O. asked, a smile forming on his face.
"Uh uh."
"Puppy."
"What?" Thayer gasped.
C.O. giggled. Then more seriously, "Can I?" He reached over and began to unbutton the top button of Thayer's shirt. C.O.'s heart leapt into his throat for a moment as a small frown came across Thayer's face.
"Okay," Thayer whispered.
Heart racing, C.O. slowly unbuttoned Thayer's shirt, fumbling on a couple of the buttons. Pearly white skin appeared, a shallow indentation between his breasts. Tiny pale nipples, the points firm to his touch. His breath was so sweet, as if he'd just eaten a spoonful of honey. Thayer put his hands behind his head as C.O. brushed the shirt back to expose his entire chest. He lightly tickled Thayer's armpits, eliciting a soft groan.
C.O.'s hand crept down onto Thayer's tummy, poking at his belly button, before it brushed along the waistband of his shorts. Thayer obediently sucked his stomach in to make it easier for C.O. to dip his fingers underneath. Almost immediately, he came in contact with the smooth head of Thayer's cock.
With one hand, C.O. tried to unbutton Thayer's shorts, his other hand supporting his body.
"Here, let me," Thayer said, reaching down to unbutton them himself. With a hand on either side of his hips, he nudged his shorts and boxers down, revealing his thick and throbbing member.
C.O. cupped Thayer's balls, instinctively bringing his hand up to smell his fingers. "Mmmm."
Returning his hand to Thayer's crotch, he pushed his thighs further apart before wrapping his fingers around the shaft. As he stroked him, Thayer began thrusting his hips up and down, his breath rasping in and out, his eyes alternately squeezed shut and open gazing up at the sky.
"Can I?"
The thrusting stopped for a second. They looked at each other.
Something came over Thayer at that moment. Confusion, maybe. He looked at C.O., a mix of fear and longing in his eyes.
"I dunno, C.O. I don't know if I'm ready." Ready for what? Thayer wasn't even sure, what.
"That's okay. Let's maybe take it slow," C.O. responded softly, a hint of disappointment in his voice. A bit of relief, too. He wasn't sure if he was ready, either.
"Would you, ah, just get me off?"
"Sure," he responded, a soft smile on his face.
When it was over and he'd cum buckets all over everything, his stomach and chest, C.O.'s hand, he held his forearm over his eyes.
You are literally a jerk-off , Thayer said to himself, feeling some level of regret and disappointment.
They lay together side-by-side in the tall grass for a few minutes. Finally, Thayer pulled himself up after swatting away a mosquito. It was almost dark.
"I'm getting eaten up out here," he muttered.
"I suppose," C.O. chuckled and then groaned as he pulled himself up.
Neither one of them noticed a small gap in the curtains covering the nearby cabin window. A pair of binoculars poked through, barely visible, trained on Ledecker Island. Alternately, he pulled his eyes away from the binocs to check out the two boys as they engaged in their own form of horny teenage sex.
He had no outward reaction. He had become an expert at never revealing his feelings, his true feelings, that is. Inside, he was making some cold calculations. It was doubtful the relationship between these two boys could be used for his benefit. But, if not their relationship, either one of them by themselves, might come in handy. You never know , he thought. In the meantime, they tickled a fantasy playing itself out in the inner recesses of his mind.
Returning his attention to Ledecker Island, his eyes swept the shoreline again. As expected, Louie Lee's place was dark. He smirked to himself, thinking about what kind of chaos must be going on at Dinwiddie Partners tonight.
One small light was on in Linnie Lee's place. She was home, for sure. He knew it because he observed her earlier leaving The Bar and Gas in her boat. And, the boat was now tied up next to her dock. Further down the shoreline, Dickie Lee's place was pretty lit up. Something was going on over there. A party, maybe. A couple of boats were tied up next to his dock.
As he observed the two boys walk around the side of the cabin toward their boats, he noticed a brighter light and movement across the lake. Then a couple of flashes accompanied by the delayed sounds of "pop pop," echoing off the water and shoreline. Was that a gun going off? Or, something else? Shadows were being cast by the bright light as people ran here and there. Now, he could see what was going on more clearly. A fire was burning, the people on the island working furiously to put it out. Smoke started furling up above the tree line as they got the better of it, the flames quickly receding.
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