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    PeterGay
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

The Gay Ghost - 3. Chapter 3

The Date - I

 

"Charlie! Charlie! Wake up!"

"No. Why?"

"Open your eyes. It's late."

"Eh? What?"

"Get up!"

"Who are you?!"

"It's me, Paul. Get up, it's nine o'clock already."

"Paul? What are you doing here? I didn't call you?" I turned to the other side.

"C'mon. You want to go to the beach, don't you? It's late. Get up!"

"How do you know...? Oh, yes... I know."

"You'll get used to it. You'll get used to having me around."

"I'm afraid so. What time is it?"

"It's nine o'clock."

"Oh, Christ."

"That's a compliment, but the name is Paul. Don't get us confused."

"That's impossible." I smiled as I tried to pull the covers over my head.

"Don't go back to sleep. You lazy...! It's a beautiful day out there." He continued to shake me by the shoulder.

"Okay, okay!" I sat on the bed. I rubbed my eyes, yawned.

"Get up! Let's go!"

I looked at him. "Are you coming with me?"

"Of course. Don't be selfish. I want to see those beautiful bodies walking up and down the boardwalk, too."

"For a spirit you're awfully horny."

"Ha, ha! Spirit and all, I still can watch, can't I?"

"I guess so." I said with my eyes barely open. "I hope I have time to clean up and have a cup of coffee. Or are you in a great rush? Eh?"

"No, no, no. Take your time. Besides, a cup of coffee would feel good this bright morning."

"Don't they feed you where ever it is you come from?" I said while getting out of bed.

"Don't be cheap. A cup of coffee won't break you."

He slapped my behind as I walked past him on my way to the bathroom.

"I haven't told you yet, have I?..." Paul looked at me up and down.

"No. What?"

"You have a nice body, too, you shouldn't waste it. You should find someone to love it."

"You're not going to start that all over again, are you?" I said with a mouth full of tooth paste.

"No, no... I just wanted you to know."

"Good. Besides, This body has been loved many, many times."

"That's not the kind of love I am talking about, and you know it..."

"Yeah, well... Why don't you make yourself useful and go make the coffee? By now you know where things are in the kitchen, don't you?"

"I know where the pots and pans are. Just think of the place where the coffee is... In the cabinet above the sink."

"Yes."

"It seems our telepathic powers may turn out to be more practical than I ever thought."

I smiled as I followed him into the kitchen.

"Do you have an extra swimsuit?!" He turned and shouted in my face.

"Oops! Sorry," he apologized. "I thought you were still in the bathroom."

"Yes, I have an extra..." I whispered sticking my finger in my ear as if trying to clear the leftover resonance. "...A bathing suit? What on earth do you...? Maybe I shouldn't ask."

"We ARE going to the beach, aren't WE?"

"Yeah, yeah. I know..." I though it would be better to stop asking any more questions. "Yes, I have a bathing suit for you." I smiled and I resigned myself to accept his idiosyncrasies.

 

It was a warm summer day and the beach was crowded. All those beautiful men passing by in their bikinis -- we didn't have enough eyes to see them all.

"Its a gorgeous day, isn't it?" I asked.

'Don't talk.'

"Why not?"

'Think. Don't talk.'

"Oh!... I mean..." 'Oh!'

He laughed.

'You're making fun of me.'

'You'll get used to it. I know thinking doesn't come easy for you...'

"Watch it!"

'Think!... You'll get used to it.'

'Be nice.'

'I'm always nice.'

'Are you sure I'm the only one who can see you?'

'Absolutely.'

'How come that guy, in the electric blue speedo, was staring so intensely in your direction?'

'He could be an angel too.'

"Angel?!"

'Ssssh!'

"Angel...?" I whispered.

'Ssssh!'

'I thought you were a ghost. Don't give me this angel stuff now. Okay?'

'Ghost. Angel. Same thing.'

'I give up.'

'That's okay. Some day you'll understand.'

'Yeah. Really!...'"Anyway. I mean..." 'Anyway. Angel or no angel that guy kept looking at you.'

'It wasn't at me he was staring at.'

'Oh... No?'

'No.'

'Come to think about it...' I pondered.

'Yeees?'

'Hush!... Answer this: What'd happen if someone wants to lay down in the space you are sitting on?'

'Oh, you'll see -- or rather, you won't see. By the time you realize what's going on, he'd already be in Wisconsin.' Paul laughed.

'C'mon, you're supposed to find someone for me, not chase him away.'

'I'll chase everybody away from you today.'

'Why?!'

'Today's not a favorable day. Not for you, anyway.'

'What do you mean? I won't get lucky?'

'Oh, you could; but not with the right one.'

'I thought you said it was going to be an important day for me!'

'It is! But not for dates.'

'C'mon, if not for dates... Ey! Look!'

'Not him!'

'He's cute, and he's smiling at me.'

'No Charlie! He's not what he looks! Turn away...!'

'Shut up!'

'Oh no! It's too late. You'll be sorry... Charlie!'

"Hi." This six foot, dark, hairy hunk said.

"Hi." I answered.

'Buzz off!'

'Shut up!'"How are you today?"

"Fine. May I sit down?" He pointed to the spot where Paul was laying down.

"No!..." I shouted. "I mean... yes, over here, please." I pointed to the other side. "I forgot my glasses and I don't see very well with my right eye. I'm sorry."

'You liar.'

"It's okay," he moved to my left. "I'll be fine over here."

'He's getting bald.'

'Go away!' "It's a beautiful day. Isn't it?"

'Yes, yes. It is a beautiful day.' Paul mimicked.

"Yes it is," the hunk answered. "I was all by myself in my apartment and I thought: there must be a handsome guy waiting for me at the beach. And here you are." He tucked his right hand under his left elbow, his left hand waving freely in a manner that reminded me of Truman Capote.

'Ha, ha, ha!...'

'Quit laughing!'

'...He's a girl.'

"Eh, yes. Thank you... It's beautiful out here," I repeated myself.

Awkward silence.

'I told you.'

"And... What is your name?" He asked with an inflection in his voice that reminded me of... Divine!

'Divine Truman,' Paul laughed. 'Tell him your name is Richard.'

"...Richard...!"

'You don't need to ask for his.'

"Nice meeting you, Richard." He extended his hand palm down, almost flaccid. "My name is Gunfred, you can call me Gun. It's a strange name, I know; but I like it, it's..."

'Ridiculous.'

"... different. Don't you think so?"

'No.'

'Please, Paul.' "Yes. I... think so."

More silence.

He started to wave his left hand again -- Capote style, minus the class that distinguished the witty writer. "I don't live far from here, a few blocks East on Briar Street. Do you live around?"

'In Timbuktoo. Tell him you live in Oak Park.'

"In Oak Park..."

'You came to meet some friends.'

"I am... waiting for some friends."

"How nice. Maybe all of you can come over to my place." Both his hands now waving in circular motions as a sign of excitement.

'They are straight.'

"I don't think that'll be possible," I said.

"Why not? I have room for everyone."

"They... are straight. I don't think they'll quite enjoy it."

"I see... But you can come over with me, couldn't you?"

"I have to wait for them. They'll be here any moment now."

"Can I see you later tonight?" His right hand tucked one more time, his head resting on the left hand with the index finger pointing up.

'Tell him you have syphilis.'

"I have... something to do tonight." 'Quit laughing!' "I'd better see you some other day."

"Well... Here is my phone number." With extreme dexterity, as in a magic act, he pulled a business card out of thin air. "You can call me any time you want."

"Fine. Thank you."

"Don't loose it."

'Burn it.'

"I won't."

"When do you think you can call me?"

'Next year.'

"Next... I don't know. Next week... maybe."

"Okay. I'll be waiting."

"Bye now."

"Bye."

'Ha, ha, ha! Ha, ha, ha!'

'Stop that! It wasn't funny... Paul!'

Silence.

I couldn't help it either. I started to laugh aloud.

'You see what you did to me?' I asked as soon as I was able to breath normally.

'I didn't do it! I warned you; but you are too much of a stubborn hard-head.'

'And marble-size brain, too. I know.'

'Ha, ha! You are learning... At least now you are convinced that today is not your day. Right?'

'Well, one individual does not a bad day make.... '

Paul gave me the super-evil eye.

'Okay, okay. It is not a good day for cruising. What time is it, anyway?'

'One-thirty,' he answered.

'Lets go.'

'What?'

'Lets go!' I insisted.

'We just got here!'

'I need to go to the store.'

'You don't need any more clothes.'

'How...?! Ah! Yes... Well, this time you read me wrong. I Need a new pair of pants.'

"And a shirt.'

'And a shirt, too. Yes.'

'Oh, well. As you wish.'

 

We went home so I could take a shower and get ready to go shopping. Afterwards, we walked along Michigan Avenue until we got to the shopping center at Water Tower Place. We walked into Marshall Field's.

"May I help you?"

'Don't get smart.' I said. 'Let me browse around.'

'I didn't say anything.' Paul looked at me.

'Eh?' "Ah! No... I mean... Yes! I am looking for a pair of pants, 30 waist, black."

"Dressing pants?" Asked the gay-looking clerk.

"Casual." I answered.

"They are here, the 30 waist size are on this shelf. You might find something you like on that circular rack, too."

"Thank you. I'll look here first."

"If you find something you like, I'll be at the register. Please, take your time."

"Yes, thank you."

I looked around and then went to the circular rack.

"Excuse me, Sir... Paul!"

'Don't talk!'

"I beg your pardon?" Said an old lady standing next to Paul. "My name is Pauline... Mizz Pauline." She raised her nose an inch or so and turned away. "Hm!"

"Sorry lady," I apologized. 'You see what you've done! Where did you get those pants? And that shirt?'

'I borrowed them.'

'What?!'

'I borrowed them from Mr. Field! Don't worry, I'll take them back tomorrow... maybe.'

'Please Paul, don't do that to me again, or I'll send you back on the pretext of a malfunction.'

'Sorry no refunds.'

'Anything would be better.'

'Stop talking like that or I'll vanish.'

'No! Stay here... Help me choose a pair of pants.'

'Do you like mine?'

'As a matter of fact, yes. Where did you find them?'

'Over here. Come with me.'

 

I walked out of the store with three pairs of pants, four shirts, a scarf, and a pair of shoes -- two weeks worth of savings. I guess I felt guilty for bringing such a customer with me.

We were, or I was, hungry and decided to go for a snack to a coffee shop near by.

'I assume you are not going to eat anything. Are you?'

'Why not?'

'It will look rather funny, don't you think? One customer, two plates.'

'Nothing wrong with that.'

'Are you serious?'

'Yes! The worst that could happen is that they throw you out for being such a queer.'

'What do you mean?!'

'I said: queer, as in weird -- you know? Not as in queen, which is obvious.'

'It's not obvious! Besides, you must think I am a millionaire. Where am I going to get the money to support all your whims?'

'Cheap, cheap, cheap Charlie! Always thinking about money... I've already thought about that. look!'

'Paul! Where did you get all that money?!'

'Haven't you heard about the First National Bank?'

'Paul...! How...?!'

'While you were trying those pants you bought.'

'You don't expect me to accept...'

'Why not? They won't miss one hundred little dollars.'

'One hundred! That's stealing!'

'They don't need it. They'll be on this side soon, anyway... I'm doing it to help you, Charlie.'

'Yeah, really.'

'I know you have enough to pay for your needs, but not to support me. And I can't work. Who'd hire a goofy ghost?'

'Are you allowed to do that?'

'As long as I use it to stick around you, yes. I have to guide you. You know.'

'Such a guide. Such an example you are!'

'Lets have dinner here.'

'Where?'

'Here!'

'The Ritz Carlton?! Are you crazy? Your one hundred dollars won't do but for the tip!'

'Should I go for more?'

'No!... We better go to the market. I'll cook something at home... What's that you're thinking?... Oh, no!... We'll cook from scratch, like everyone else. Don't you turn into a male 'Bewitched'. Please!... And a gay one to boot.'

'Okay, okay!' Paul finally accepted. 'Lets go to the market. But if I don't like your food I'll quit!'

'You'll quit!!'

'I still have a taste for good food, you know?'

'You'll have to eat whatever I can cook.'

'And that's not much. I quit!'

'I wish, but I know you won't!... How do you know about my cooking...?'

'I saw you cooking soon after you moved: Scrambled eggs!'

'I did it just to try the stove.'

'I know. But you didn't have to burn them just to try the stove.'

'I didn't!'

'You did. And you over salted them.'

'How do you kno...w ?'

'Ha, ha, ha!'

This time I fixed tuna salad sandwiches -- he wasn't very impressed either. But I didn't have any other choice: I am not good at cooking, and I wasn't going to risk myself to be thrown out of a restaurant for being a... a peculiar person. So, tuna was the meal for the evening.

He already had me in trouble for handing me the cans and boxes of food at the grocery store. Floating Vegetables!

"You'll have to go to the bar tomorrow, Sunday." Paul said after we finished our meal.

"I have to?"

"Yes. I want you to meet someone."

"What do you mean? A friend of yours?"

"No, no, no. Someone, anyone. From this side, of course."

"That's better. One from YOUR side is bad enough."

"Don't get funny with me... It is time for me to go to work, and for you to get acquainted with some good people."

"That'll be up to me."

"I can help."

"I don't need help."

"Yes you do."

"Paul."

"I am going to help you."

"C'mon. Don't you think I can find my own dates?"

"Like the one at the beach, eh?"

"That was... a minor mistake."

"You didn't believe me, minor mistake. You can't deny how helpful I can be. I won't force you, I'll just let you know who wants you and you decide whether to talk to him or not."

"Do I have any other alternative?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Is there a way I can get rid of you?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Wouldn't there be a chance that, maybe, you'll have something else to do?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Not even if you...?"

"I'm afraid not!"

"Will you stick by me all night?"

"I'm afraid... Don't get smart with me, kid."

Copyright © 2011 PeterGay; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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