Porcupines - 1. Chapter 1 - Fishin'

Chapter 1 – Fishin’

“Don’t forget to wipe those bottles before you leave,” a woman’s voice called from around the corner. From the raspy, harsh sound of it, he knew who it was. “I don’t wanna hear people say they’re sticky.”

Dylan was filling ketchup bottles at his job, Sweet Nora’s, and his boss, Lynora Watley, was her usual “jovial” self. He grabbed a clean, wet towel and began polishing the stupid bottles when she came around the corner. Her white-gray hair was carefully done up in a backcomb style that had gone out in the 1970’s.

“I know you can’t wait to get out to your whoring around but that doesn’t mean the job’s finished,” she wagged her finger at him. Dylan blushed. To Lynora, going out for a couple of beers and dancing was “whoring around.” Well, maybe she was a little right when it came to his social plans but he wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction.

“I’m just having a fun night out. That doesn’t mean I’m going out to pick up just anyone,” he said smirking. “I do have standards.” She knew his modus operandi though. Dylan probably would be scouting the local talent for some action later. He just didn’t want to admit that to her. “I’m just meeting Kenny and Sarah for a drink and then a little hoedown action at the Rail.”

“I know what kind of “hoe” you’re down for Dylan,” she laughed. “Remember, you’re closing tomorrow night so don’t toss back too many.”

“You flatter me Nor. I’m not that big of a party animal and you know it.”

Dylan was tempted to say, “You should talk” to his boss, but she was more than that to him. She’d never had children, though she’d been married three times. Once she had off-handedly said the business was her baby. Dylan figured it was more like her staff were her children. She was stern and opinionated but when the chips were down, she was there for them. She certainly had been for Dylan over the past four years.

“You need to settle down with a nice boy,” she said for the umpteenth time. Ever since he’d starting working for Lynora, she’d made it her mission to set him up with a “nice boy.” Trouble was, Dylan wasn’t interested in “nice boys,” especially the kind she kept trying to push onto him. Every college age fratboy she met who was gay was “just perfect” for him. Why do straight people think all gay men are only interested in a pretty face? Most of the “nice boys” she’d introduced him to were as shallow as mud puddles and not terribly manly. Dylan liked real men. He wasn’t into the twink –of-the-month club. He wanted a real man of substance; unfortunately they are few and far between.

“I’m in no hurry to settle down,” Dylan said putting the last freshly wiped ketchup bottle on the rack. “I’m still young and want to sow some wild oats, as your generation says.” She just shook her head at the redhead.

“You ain’t that young Dylan. Besides, you’ve planted many a field of wild oats. Time to start plantin’ some of the domesticated type.” He just smiled at her. He was only 24. Dylan did want to meet someone special but it would have to be on his terms. He hoped tonight would be a good start. It was country night at the Rail and figured some nice cowboy would wanna lasso him and put his brand on Dylan’s rear. Not that he was into the kinky stuff, at all.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be fresh as a daisy tomorrow evening. You won’t even know I’d been out being a naughty boy,” the waiter quipped. She just grinned, shooing him off with both hands. He went in back, grabbed his backpack, and was out the door to go home and get ready for the evening.

The randy, young man stepped out into the bright, harsh lights of the mall. Sweet Nora’s is in the Eastdale Mall and it was pretty empty on this late summer afternoon. He started walking toward the glass doors past the Sunglass Hut when something distracted him. Two cute guys were standing close to each other by the kiosk. One was carefully placing a pair of sunglasses on the other’s face. His partner struck a pose and they both laughed. The infectious sound traveled across the mall to his ears. It was kinda sweet how they were so, Dylan thought, together. He smiled to himself and then, bang. He walked into the glass door.

“Here,” said a voice beside him. “Let me get that for you sir.” It was a mall guard, the one with the sallow complexion and bruised looking eyes. Dylan had seen him before, but only walking past the restaurant every once in a while. The guard startled the waiter.

“I can open the door myself,” Dylan muttered in a perturbed snarl.

“I’m sorry,” the guard said stepping back. His politeness was crisp, almost formal. He lowered his head and turned away. The twenty four year old continued out of the mall shaking his head. What a loser.

He headed home, ate a snack, and took a short nap. He was going to have fun tonight. He just knew it. He wanted to be well rested and ready to meet the man of his dreams, or at least someone hot. Someone real.

It was about ten thirty when he got to the Rail Station. It was country music night and while that wasn’t really Dylan’s favorite genre of music, he figured his future ex-husband would probably like such tunes. The crowd was pretty sparse as he got a Lite beer. He took a swig and it tasted cold and liberating. Dylan took the time to check out the buffet of men around him.

There were several older men, men in their forties and fifties dressed in jeans, western shirts and boots. They weren’t really his type of man. He saw a hunky cowboy a few stools down from him with short brown hair and a scruffy beard. He was also drinking a Lite beer and Dylan stared a bit, checking him out. Nicely proportional, though the guy had a little gut on him. Brown hair spilled from the vee in his shirt collar and in the low light of the bar it glistened, beckoning to the younger man. He was leaning on the bar and then looked out over the empty dance floor. Dylan followed his gaze to see what he was looking at. Nothing he could see.

Dylan looked over toward the corner and seated at a high top table was a guy with dark hair and wearing mirrored sunglasses. Since the bar was pretty dark except for some neon and pool table lights, he looked ridiculous. What kind of poser wears mirrored sunglasses to a dark bar? Ugh!

Sprinkled around the seating area were more men in t-shirts and ballcaps. Some were older but a few were his age. He wasn’t interested in twenty-somethings though. He wanted someone more mature without being grandpa bait. Dylan turned back to look at his cowboy down the bar. He looked even yummier now after seeing the unfortunate assortment of men at hand.

Dylan’s target took a long draw of his beer and motioned to the bartender who quickly twisted off the cap of another beer. The bartender set the beer down in front of the cowboy. Picking up the beer, he took a sip and turned toward him. He caught Dylan looking and smiled. The younger man grinned back at him and raised his bottle in return. Dylan took a drink. The cowboy took a drink. They watched each other and Dylan looked the man up and down. He especially looked down and liked what he saw. He figured he need to give him a little more line. Dylan looked away, acting as nonchalant as he could. Maybe that would get the guy’s full attention.

Hook, line, and sinker. The cowboy was coming around the stools toward Dylan.

Yeah!

As he got closer, Dylan saw the guy was bigger than he at first appeared. He had a barrel chest and big arms. Sure enough, a fricking thatch of hair spilled out of his collar and his forearms were heavily forested. Dylan began salivating.

“How’s it going partner?” he asked with a big shit-eating grin.

“How’s it goin’ yourself,” Dylan said and batted his eyes. Good Lord. Did he really say that? Was he becoming one of those nellie twinks he so despised? The cowboy didn’t seem to mind and openly checked out the younger man’s backside. Dylan could almost feel the heat of his gaze as he took inventory.

“I love redheads that are well put together,” he growled. “They got something special going on.”

Dylan didn’t consider himself a red-head. He thought of himself as more auburn than ginger but he wasn’t going to quibble with this hot man. Dylan just took another drink and his cowboy offered to buy him another beer. Dylan nodded his approval and the bartender came over and replenished him.

“So, you meeting anyone here?” he asked in a gravelly voice. “Someone as cute as you must have a boyfriend.”

“Nope. I’m here to meet you,” Dylan smiled and touched his hairy forearm. The hair was soft and thick. He felt like a real man. Dylan stroked his fur. He was beginning to act like the kind of whore Lynora had accused him of being. He felt really slutty, but in a good way.

“My name’s Vince,” he said reaching out and patted Dylan’s hand, the one that was pawing him so wantonly.

“I’m Dylan.”

“I’m glad I was here for you then,” he said and placed his other hand on the younger man’s bottom. He cupped Dylan’s ass and squeezed it lightly. “Now this needs some tender loving care.” Dylan practically cooed in response and touched him back, kneaded the cowboy’s thick arms.

“Oh yeah, this needs some special attention tonight I think.”

He blushed and turned breaking the cowboy’s contact with his plump hinny. Dylan faced him and stroked the hair tumbling out of his shirt. “I’m sure you could make it feel really good,” he said. He really was being a tramp but there was something about the way the older guy smelled that was getting to him. It had been a long time since he’d had a “date” and the other man’s presence was becoming intoxicating.

He sat down on a stool and gestured for Dylan to do the same. They started talking to each other. He wasn’t a cowboy but a high school counselor. Dylan told him he was an underemployed waiter with a degree in History and Anthropology. They mixed double entendre flirting with revelations about themselves. Vince liked Japanese food, country music concerts, and martial arts movies. They both liked classic cinema noir pictures and Italian food. It was an easy conversation and throughout getting familiar, he touched Dylan’s thighs. The younger guy touched his cowboy’s arms and face. Their stools kept getting closer and closer until legs were intertwined. All the while, they guzzled beers like water. Dylan began feeling a little tipsy. The cowboy was becoming more animated. Suddenly, it was after midnight, the witching hour. They agreed to go to the older man’s place.

As they stepped outside the bar, he took Dylan in a big bear hug and kissed him. Dylan shuddered and kissed him back. Tongues danced and Dylan felt the intense heat of his embrace. It felt secure, safe. He thought he’d won the lottery as he felt the hard bar of the other man’s excitement against his leg. Dylan’s own “hard bar” was pressing back against him. Dylan had to have him.

They got into the cowboy’s 4Runner and he started up the engine. Dylan placed his palm on his cowboy’s leg and finger walked it toward his crotch. The cowboy gasped as he got closer to his target.

“You better stop doing that or I’ll get us into a wreck,” he said grinning from ear to ear. Dylan kept his hands to himself during the drive, but it wasn’t going to be easy. He soon figured out that was a wise course of action.

Vince had drunk more than Dylan had. It was becoming increasingly obvious as he drove. He ran a red light. He swerved a bit. Dylan grasped his seatbelt shoulder strap as they careened their way to his condo about ten miles away from the Rail. It was sobering how badly he drove but they finally arrived safely. The younger man was relieved to get out and away from the deathmobile.

The two of them took thean elevator up to the fourth floor, the entire time their hands were groping each other. Dylan got his hands under Vince’s shirt and his fur was as luxurious as he’d hoped. He was a little chubby but underneath that were hard, heavy muscles. It felt divine.

Vince fumbled with the keys at his door. Before he got it unlocked, he turned and gave Dylan a passionate, urgent kiss. He moved into his embrace. “We need to take this inside,” he said breathlessly. They entered his home.

It was a beautiful space that had high ceilings and some nice, expensive looking furniture. Dylan didn’t have much time to look around before the guy took him into another bear hug. His scent enveloped the shorter man. Dylan breathed in his essence and got even hard again as a result.

“How about a little drink,” Vince said pulling away. Dylan said sure but it didn’t seem like he needed anything else. They were safe and sound though so Dylan figured why not. The older man went into the kitchen and returned with two big tumblers half full of amber liquid with a couple of ice cubes rattling around. He took a big swig. Dylan took a polite sip. Vince put down his drink and took Dylan into his arms again.

Passionately, they kissed, tongues wrestling and touching each other everywhere. The cowboy grabbed the younger man and pulled him even closer. Vince moaned into his mouth. Dylan gasped and leaned back into the other man’s arms. Their fingers searched each other, probing and caressing. It was hot.

Vince pulled Dylan by the shoulders as he backed to the leather sofa. He sat down dragging Dylan onto his lap. The waiter felt surrounded by the cowboy‘s warmth, his arms and fervent hands. Dylan straddled his cowboy’s thighs. Their tongues entwined and jousted deliciously. Dylan leaned back and placed his hands on either side of the older man’s face. Vince’s cheeks felt scruffy, ruff under his palms as Dylan kissed his nose tenderly. Vince sat back and groaned.

“Hand me my drink,” he said. “If I don’t take a little break I’m not gonna last much longer.”

“We don’t want that quite yet do we?” Dylan said getting off his lap and fetching his drink. Dylan took a sip of his drink. The cowboy palmed the tumbler and took a healthy gulp. “Let me get you more comfortable.” Dylan began unbuckling the cowboy’s belt and unbuttoning his jeans. Suddenly, the younger man became aware of his full bladder. He stopped kissing the man and started to get up.

“Let me just use your bathroom a sec,” Dylan purred.

The cowboy nodded and burped. He sat back, eyes closed, a look of drunken happiness on his face.

Dylan looked around, finding his bearings. “Where’s the...?” he started to ask.

“Down the hall, to the right,” Vince slurred and pointed toward a darkened space. Dylan scurried into the inky darkness. There was a little spark of light a short ways down on the right. He figured that must be the bathroom. He peeked inside and the faint light was coming from a little nightlight. ‘How cute,’ Dylan thought and fumbled for the light.

He started doing his business, chuckling to himself. What did his father say? You don’t buy beer, you just rent it. His father was such a joker. As he was going, he looked around the nice sized bathroom. There were prints of half-naked sailors and soldiers that looked like drawings from the fifties and sixties. His eyes began to survey more of his surroundings.

There was a book, dog-eared and laying on a little side table. It was titled, ‘Making Love Work.’ He looked over at the sink. In a little cup, two toothbrushes were nestled next to one another. “Probably just some ex’s,” he said as he finished and buttoned his jeans. Two kinds of toothpaste lay next to the little cup. There were two different deodorant sticks as well. “None of my business,” he said and started washing his hands.

Dylan looked in the mirror and didn’t like what he saw. “Vince invited me here. He wants to be with me,” but his words did little to convince the face staring back at him.

Bang, he heard the cowboy stumble outside the door. “Just come into the bedroom when you’re done,” Vince called to him, mangling the words. “He wants me here. He likes me and I like him,” Dylan argued to his image. “Probably just a former boyfriend.”

He’d promised himself he wouldn’t do this anymore. He was done with one night stands, pickups, drunken trysts in the night. But that was in the brave light of the day. This was his loneliness and need rearing its ugly head. That didn’t matter right now. The guy had a great job. They had things in common. It wasn’t like those other times. This guy really liked him. Dylan paused and let his mirrored image get clear again. He splashed cold water on his face and sighed. Yeah, he was gonna do this. This was right.

Dylan opened the door and turned off the bathroom light. The door across the hall was open, summoning him. Within that sanctuary, Vince was waiting for him. His cowboy wanted him and had brought him here. He’d invited him into his bed. Dylan walked across and entered the room.

He started taking off his shoes when he heard the snore. Another even louder one greeted him as he took off a sock. What was he doing here? The guy was passed out. Shit! He should just go home, but then he didn’t even have the guy’s number. Dylan decided what to do. He finished undressing and slipped into Vince’s bed wearing just his boxers. All he could hear were his snores. All he could see was darkness.

Dylan lay there on the bed and tried to go to sleep. His conscience wasn’t done yet. Sure, he was a single, grown man who just wanted some affection, but he couldn’t shake what he’d seen in the bathroom. Those two toothbrushes were lying together in the cup. It made his brain hurt and that meant he wasn’t going to fall asleep, at least not right away.

“He wants me here,” he whispered to the darkness. He turned and faced the open doorway.

Dylan’s eyes adjusted to the dark but it wasn’t totally black in the room. A curtain was open just a crack and a little silvery beam of light made the shadows grow thicker. He looked at the nightstand and saw a glint of something yellow. What was that? He tried closing his eyes but he knew what it was. He pretended it was an earring or something else, anything else.

It was a ring, a gold men’s wedding band. There was no getting that out of his head. It was in there and he couldn’t ignore it.

Dylan sighed and sat up, putting his feet on the floor. He reached over and grabbed the thing, the ring and it was heavy in his hand. Hell, it was feeling heavy in his heart. Too many times, Dylan had found himself sleeping with a married man. He couldn’t do it again. That was something he could no longer stomach.

Dylan shook his head hoping the toothbrushes and ring would rattle out from the effort. In those silvery shadows of the room he pulled on his clothing piece by piece, each one feeling more constricting. The beer he drank was now starting to get to his head. It felt like it was stuffed with cotton batting or even worse, guilt.

As he left the bedroom, he looked over at Vince, still snoring loudly with his mouth wide open. “Wonder what his name is?” Dylan whispered to the sleeping man. “Wonder if he knows about you and, well me?” Or whomever?

Dylan carefully locked the doorknob and pulled it shut as he left. The moon was looking at him, mocking him. The streetlights winked at him, laughing. He felt so empty, cheated, and alone. The tears he’d held back before started running as he trudged to the sidewalk.

The redhead slogged to the bus stop in another walk of shame.