One Moonlit Night - 17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

“To the right, to the right!..No, release the steering wheel!..No, don’t take your hands off of it. Let it slide through your hands back to the starting position...give it some gas...don’t floor it!..slow down a little...gentle with the brake, don’t slam it on!..Watch out for that light standard!..Turn, turn...Scott, don’t forget to use your turn signal.” Poor Uncle Phil was about ready to check himself into the nearest psychiatric hospital for agreeing to teach Scotty and me to drive. I actually was quite good, but Scotty, well let’s just say, ‘menace of the road’ would be a compliment. Uncle Phil and I were baffled, because for someone who could read complicated music, while using both right and left hands to plunk 88 little keys and use three foot pedals on a piano all simultaneously, he couldn’t seem to coordinate them all in order to drive. Scotty would indignantly respond, “Well if music came out of the darned thing, maybe I wouldn’t have so much trouble.”

Two weeks later, despite his difficulties, both Scotty and I proudly waved our driver’s licenses as we heralded the passing of our exam. Uncle Phil had a nervous but congratulatory smile on his face. He even allowed Scotty to drive us home from the Motor Vehicle Department. I did offer Uncle Phil a blindfold. He bravely refused. Scotty said I could walk home if I wanted. “And miss the thrill of lifetime,” I retorted. “It’ll be a cross between the haunted house and roller coaster ride at Hershey Amusement Park.” Not amused, Scotty harrumphed and headed home.

Scotty’s and my birthday were approaching and most importantly, our first anniversary; I wanted to do something special with him. I talked with my mom about borrowing her car to take a trip. I thought of camping, which Scotty and I both liked, but it didn’t have that romantic appeal to me. I really wanted it to be special. I called Uncle Vince and Uncle Chris to see if they had any ideas and they suggested driving up the coast and renting a small bungalow or staying at a bread and breakfast near the ocean. They had gay friends who had a small B & B along the coast near Rockport, Massachusetts and they would be happy to contact them. My mom was concerned with me driving that distance, only having a driver’s license for a short period. She told me she would think about it. Not what an anxious teenager wants to hear. Being a little upset with my mother I went over to Junior and Shelby’s and moaned and whined. They listened attentively but knew there wasn’t much they could say or do and they seemed to feel my mother had a legitimate concern. Failing to get any support, I moped all the way home. I thought about asking Uncle Phil if I could use one of their cars, but knew my mom would be very upset by my attempt to go around her. I could then be certain she wouldn’t allow me to go. I was resigned to doing the next best thing: being the most attentive and fawning son I could possibly be. The time was approaching when I’d have to make reservations and I again asked my mom about using her car. The answer was ‘no’. Every mean thought and word flooded my mind, but I couldn’t bring myself to say them. As angry as I was, I could not or would not purposely hurt my mother. I did stomp off to my room and slam the door, however. And she went down a rung or two on the-most-wonderful-mom-in-the-world-ladder.

Scotty and I always celebrated our birthdays together. Mine was July 9th and his was July 11th. As depressed as I was for not getting my way, I found it difficult to be miserable at our party. Uncle Vince and Chris came and they brought Nanna with them. Scotty and I invited a few of our friends, among them Bobby and Chris, Michelle, Gordon, Billy Farmer, Stan and his mother and girlfriend, Jennifer. A shocker was that Shelby’s parents made an appearance. We had a great time despite my let down. Scotty and I once again gave Junior the heebee-jeebees, as we both had gotten one another bicycles, unbeknownst to each other. Scotty had told me he thought he needed to get more exercise so as a consolation prize, in lieu of a romantic getaway, I bought him a nice ten-speed mountain bike: he the same for me. We once again, as at Christmas time, made a haul in the gift department. Mr. and Mrs. Connors gave us each $200. Money to teenagers is always an appropriate gift—we don’t care if it is a convenient ‘out’ for the gift giver. My mother handed me a small package along with a card, gave me a kiss and wished me happy birthday. I opened the package and inside were keys—keys to her car. Thinking she had reconsidered I became very excited. She then instructed me to read the card.

Happy Birthday my 17 year old.

I am signing the Honda over to you on Monday. The answer is still, ‘no’ to driving up the coast—I’m sorry. Sebastian, I would worry. So please placate your old mom, until you have more driving experience, by being patient with me. You’re all I have.

Love Always,

Mom

I grabbed her and gave her a hug and kiss. She regained her rungs on the ladder.

The Connors and our friends left the party as the sun started to go down. Everyone had a great time playing party games and stuffing themselves on hamburgers and hot dogs. We convinced Nanna, Uncle Vincent and Uncle Chris to stay over instead of driving back that evening. I reminded my uncle of his advancing years and that he probably shouldn’t be driving this late at night. He grabbed me, took me over his knee, and proceeded to give me a few swats. We were all sitting in the backyard as it was a beautiful warm night and quietly chatted. The fireflies were flickering and we heard sounds of an owl hooting for a mate. Then my mother said, “My, my, what is this?” As she picked up an envelope saying, “Oh, it has yours and Scotty’s names on it. It must have been overlooked because it’s so small.”

She then handed it to Scotty and me. I let Scotty open it and his mouth went agape. “Oh, my God, oh my God—look Bash!” Inside were reservations and a brochure to the Shanty by the Sea Bread and Breakfast Inn for a three-night stay. I looked at my mother disbelievingly. “But you said…”

“I said you couldn’t drive that distance. I didn’t say you couldn’t go.”

Well another round of hugs ensued and I realized I was going to have to get a taller ladder. She then went on to explain that she had inadvertently intercepted a call from Uncle Vince when he called to see if I still planned to take Scotty on a romantic rendezvous. She and he, along with Junior and Shelby, hatched a plan. Junior said he was thinking of taking Shelby on a mini-romantic getaway, and they knew of my desires, so they planned on us accompanying them. Uncle Vince made reservations at his friends’ establishment and Junior made reservations at a hotel about a mile down the road for him and Shelby. I told my mom she was mean and sneaky, but I loved her anyway and hoped she’d forgive me for being such a brat toward her. She did.

At seven o’clock the following Friday morning, as we were headed to the highway, Junior pulled to the side of the road, turned to me and said, “Okay, kiddo, you drive as I’m gonna’ take the old woman into the back seat and smooch.” I hesitated, thinking of my mom. Junior noticed and said, “Don’t worry, I talked with Tracy and she is okay with it. She just didn’t want you driving, essentially alone, with Mr. How-did-he-get-a-license?” indicating Scotty. Scotty, gasped in feigned hurt at his brother’s abasing remark. Scotty would admit he still didn’t feel very confident about driving—especially on a busy highway going a long distance. Scotty and I moved to the front and we took off for our romantic rendezvous.

Charles “Chuck” Steiner and his partner, Isaiah Feldstein were the amiable and gregarious proprietors of the Shanty by Sea Bread and Breakfast Inn. It was a three-story old captain’s house. The first floor had three guest rooms, kitchen, dining area, and large lounging area with overstuffed sofas and chairs and a grand piano. A huge fireplace made of slabs of granite took up a major portion of one wall. There were numerous pictures on the wall, many depicting the inn as it once was and the transition to how it stood presently after its renovation. There was a dark wood paneling and hardwood floors throughout, and large braided rugs placed beneath the furniture. The second floor had four spacious guestrooms, one with a full bath and an additional full bath shared by the other guests. The third floor was Chuck and Isaiah’s suite. The second floor also had a partial wrap around balcony where a wonderful view could be had of the bucolic rolling hills and the ocean. The inn was very beautiful and had an ambiance of comfort and warmth.

Standing on the raised deck at the back of the inn, Scotty and I marveled at the view of the beautiful garden with its flagstone walkways and padded wrought iron benches placed for either a gathering of folks and a few for those whom might like a little privacy. There was a miniature replica of the Mannaken Pis fountain of Brussels placed centrally in the flower-strewn garden. As Scotty and I were taking in the beauty of the back garden, Chuck came up to us and asked, “Does it remind you of someplace?”

“Well, it sort of reminds me of my Uncle Vincent and Uncle Chris’ garden,” I replied.

“That’s not surprising,” Chuck responded, “as it was your Uncle Chris who designed it. It probably is, other than the ocean view, the biggest draw for people staying here. In fact, I think my guests spend more time out here than on the beach. Oh, I came to tell you dinner will be served in another two hours. The dress is very casual. I know you boys have been on the road for quite a few hours so let me know if you’d like a snack to tide you over until then.” We thanked him and told him we had stopped for a quick bite so didn’t require anything and could wait until dinner.

Returning to our room, the ever neat and tidy Scotty had to unpack and put everything away as I would have left it in the bags and grabbed what I wanted, ignoring wrinkles. Being satisfied that everything was in its place, Scotty and I set about to explore our surroundings. We headed down thirty some feet of wooden steps that lead to over two hundred or so yards of beautiful sandy beach. It was very private as high cliffs of jagged rock formed a crescent around the beach area, the opposing tips jutting out into the ocean, creating a cove. Though it was the latter part of July, there was a refreshing and cooling breeze. Scotty thought coming here at night would be romantic—if my plans went as I wanted, I’d fulfill that desire for him. He stated he was glad we thought to bring along sweatshirts, as it would probably be a little chilly. Our arms wrapped around each other, we gazed at the tide as it ebbed and rose. It was one of those moments, when all was right with life and the world, and I was sharing it with the love of my life.

Dinner was served family-style on a large heavy oaken table. It was a convivial affair. There were, other than Scotty and I, four male couples, a lesbian couple, and a single man who related to the group, that his partner of eight years had passed away after battling AIDS for two and a half years. He explained the inn was one of their favorite vacation spots and he found solace returning here. He, Jim, despite his loss, was not maudlin and joked and teased much of our stay. To my amazement, all but one couple knew who Scotty was and had attended his performance in Boston. He was lavished with praise and was asked if he would mind playing something one of the nights he was there. Scotty, of course, said it would be his pleasure. I did have a moment of selfishness interrupt my thoughts—this was my time, our time. Once again, I had to remind myself that I was not the only person who recognized his loving and talented qualities and sometimes it meant sharing that part of him.

As we were chatting away in the lounge after a delicious dinner, the sky turned very dark and huge banks of steel gray clouds rolled in, accompanied with loud claps of thunder and brilliant streaks of lightning. I found it lent to the romantic feelings I was having; others found it frightening. A few times the lights flickered off and on and Isaiah assured everyone they had an emergency generator should the electricity fail. Scotty turned to me and whispered that maybe it would be a good time to play something, as perhaps it would put those whom were a little unsettled at ease. I smiled and nodded my agreement.

Scotty, gave me a peck on my lips, went over to the piano and started to play Claire de Lune. The room became quiet and all became enraptured by his playing. Not one startled or frightened look because of the thunder and lightning was apparent. All surrendered their attentions to Scotty’s beautiful playing. Completing the piece, he made his way back to me before the mesmerized people realized it was over. They then stood and honored him with a round of applause. Scotty smiled and graciously thanked them.

With maybe the exception of his practices, Scotty rarely played the piano. He didn’t play. It was as though the Greek Muse, Euterpe, took possession of his body and he became a part of the instrument he loved. So even performing this small piece, along with a long day on the road, drained him somewhat. He took me by the hand, telling the small appreciative audience it had been a long day and that we were going to hit the sack. They again thanked him and bid us a pleasant good night.

In our comfy room with its king size bed and plush down comforter, I slowly undressed my beautiful lover. Took him in my arms and while gently kissing him, placed him in the bed. I undressed and joined him. With the thunder roaring and the lightning flashing and the drumming sounds of the pouring rain, I made love to amorèdella mia vite.

I awoke the next morning and the sun was bathing our room in its golden glow. I disentangled myself from my sweet boyfriend, got up, and pulled the heavy drapes closed so Scotty would not awaken. I donned a pair of sweats, slipped on some sandals, and went to relieve my aching bladder, then headed downstairs. I didn’t pay attention to what time it was, but most of the other guests were up and outside in the garden enjoying coffee or tea. I grabbed myself a cup of coffee and sought out either Chuck or Isaiah to see if it would be possible to prepare a tray so that I might serve Scotty in bed. They were more than happy to fulfill my request. They said breakfast was informal and that they served until 9:30. It was about 8:00 clock when I made my request; I thanked them and said I would return around 9:00.

I chatted with the other guests for about an hour and blushed listening to them tell me what a cute couple we were. They again expressed how beautiful Scotty’s playing was and their enjoyment of it. I, after a few more pleasantries, excused myself to serve my main attraction breakfast in our room.

Arriving in our room, I placed the breakfast tray on the bureau, drew the curtains to let the sun brighten the room, and opened the double doors leading to the balcony. A gentle sea breeze with the warm rays of the sun greeted me. Scotty stirred and then opened his eyes and gave me one of his wonderful smiles.

“Mornin’ babe, what time is it?” He inquired.

Leaning over and giving him a peck on the lips, I answered, “Oh, about 9:40, why don’t you go pee and I’ll set breakfast up out on the balcony?”

Once the morning bathroom necessities were completed, he came out on the balcony and gave a gaping yawn and stretch. He remarked on what a beautiful morning it was and how verdant the hills looked after the rain from last night’s storm. We made small talk and planned a few things to do that day leaving much to spontaneity. After all, we were on vacation—we were here to relax.

After a leisurely breakfast, we agreed to forego taking a shower. The sun was becoming warmer so we decided to grab our bathing suits, towels and most importantly, sun screen, then go wander along the beach, maybe swim and sun bathe. Taking the breakfast tray back down to the kitchen, we told Isaiah our plans. He went to the small walk-in refrigeration unit and pulled out a picnic basket, informing us of its contents. He then fastened to it a red and white checkered tablecloth to complete the picnic basket ensemble. Smiling he told us to have a good time and that dinner was served between 5:30 and 6:00.

The scenery that afternoon was as from a poem. The sky was a brilliant blue, the ocean a beautiful sea green with its foaming white caps kissing and crashing onto the fine golden sand. The sun’s rays bathed us in its warmth. Scotty and I meandered along the beach for some time collecting shells and building sand castles: only to watch the sea reclaim those moments later. We frolicked at the water’s edge, chasing and attacking the incoming waves. We both agreed one does not swim in the ocean: one does battle with the waves. Eventually, feeling pangs of hunger, we broke into the picnic cache. It was a feast; Southern fried chicken, potato salad, carrot and celery sticks, blueberry pie, and a bottle of sparkling cider. It also contained stoneware plates, flatware, and fluted wine glasses. We spread the checkered tablecloth and dined on our sumptuous feast. After having our fill, we lay together holding one another and mindlessly stroking each other’s body. We eventually dozed for a bit, and when we awoke from our brief nap, packed up and slowly made our way back to the inn.

Arriving back at the bed and breakfast, Terry and Bob, a couple for 12 years, were lounging on the porch reading. They nodded a salutation and smiled. After returning the picnic basket and extending our thanks, we went and took a nice hot shower attending to each other’s bodies. Feeling somewhat rejuvenated from the sea battling and beach gamboling we playfully wrestled in our plush bed. Wrestling became lovemaking and I wanted Scotty in me. It was unhurried. It was sensual. It was wonderful. I was certainly glad we had a towel on the bed as I spewed copious amounts of my milky liquid. As did Scotty, however, his went where no damage could be done to the comforter. Then came the part to our lovemaking I enjoyed the most, the holding, cuddling, and gentle kisses with my wonderful Scotty lying on top of me as I stroked his smooth slender body. If there was no heaven above; then this was it.

After discovering that Chuck was a retired chef from a very swank and well-known restaurant in New York, we were no longer surprised at the delicious fare that he served. That night, being served from a small wrought iron cauldron placed in the center of the oak wood table, was the most delicious ciopino Scotty or I ever tasted. Poor Shirley was envious as she was highly allergic to shellfish, but did enjoy the wonderful salad specially prepared for her. Accompanying the feast was freshly made French bread slathered with garlic butter and sprinkled with parsley. I made the remark the repast ‘was to die for’ and Shirley said, from the aroma and presentation, she was almost tempted to find out. After having our fill and complimenting the chef effusively, we removed our bibs that looked as though we had been through an epic battle and retired to the garden. The adults imbibed their cognacs; while Scotty and I sipped tasty whipped cream topped coffee mochas. Stuffed and barely capable of moving Scotty and I snuggle together enjoying the chatter and taking in the softly lit sights of the garden. Harry, another of the guests, brought his guitar and softly began to play a set of very beautiful Spanish melodies. His playing put the crowning touch on the mood of the evening.

***[ ]***

Again, the next morning I served my wonderful lover breakfast on the balcony. He stated he could get use to this attentiveness I was providing, as he ran his hand over my sweat pant-clad butt. “The breakfast or the butt,” I asked.

“Hmmmmm, tough choice,” he replied arching his brow. “Could I have both please, kind sir?”

Kissing his delectable lips, I told him I’d think about it and he lovingly slapped my butt. I then excused myself to go to the bathroom and told him not to flee. I actually had a surprise for him and hoped he did remain on the balcony.

Upon my return, Scotty, with a surprised look on his face and tears welling up in his eyes, took the bouquet of red roses I handed him as I wished him happy anniversary. Hugging me and giving me a kiss, said, “Sebastian Sean Cocchetti, well—well, they’re beautiful, and so are you.” Truth be known he was probably shocked I remembered. He usually had to remind me of my mom’s and other’s birthdays as they neared.

“Hold on a sec,” he said has as he released me from his hug and he raced into our room. Coming back onto the balcony, he handed me an envelope. “I was going to save this for later, but…” I opened the envelope to find it held a beautiful card, along with his written sentiments of love and four box seat tickets to a Philadelphia Phillies ball game. “Oh, my God—oh, shit, Scotty, box seats! Thank you, oh, God this is wonderful. Thank you so much, babe.” I then added, “Oh, and how do you like your eggs in the morning?” And pulled him into a hug.

“Like I like you—over easy,” he teased.

A few minutes later, that’s what he got.

Following our lovemaking, we again went to the beach with another tasty picnic lunch provided by Chuck. We played and sunbathed until late afternoon. Upon our return we were surprised with the presence of Junior and Shelby. Well, it wasn’t a surprise to me as it was part of my continuing plan.

“We were just checking up to see if you two burned the inn down yet,” Junior said.

We introduced them to the guests and Chuck and Isaiah, where upon they invited them to join us for dinner. Scotty and I both stated they’d regret it if they didn’t accept the invite, as they would be in for one of the greatest meals of their life. In that case they both stated, they had better stay.

That night’s feast was delicious seafood bisque, spinach salad and the main course, a rack of lamb, potatoes Diane, al dente fresh string beans and carrots. Shelby and Junior praised the chef as they patted their protruding stomachs. We all then adjourned to the back garden and, as before, the cognac was enjoyed by those of age, while Scotty and I imbibed our mochas. During the course of our conversation, the garden lights went out and Isaiah and Chuck came down the stairs with a beautiful cake with a solitary candle glowing. Everyone took up singing Happy Anniversary, as I pulled Scotty into me and gave him a prolonged and loving kiss.

A bottle of champagne was uncorked and Scotty and I enjoyed two glasses of the tasty bubbly. Junior, after see how giddy we got from our imbibing, said he was glad we weren’t driving, though for Scotty, there probably wouldn’t be much of a difference; adding, it might even improve his driving. We all laughed. Well, except for Scotty who smacked his brother and me. He cautioned us to watch our backs, as retribution was a coming.

It was a wonderful evening and as we all prepared to retire, Junior said he and Shelby would be by the next day around 1:00 to head back home. They both reiterated their thanks to Chuck and Isaiah for the delicious dinner and headed back to their hotel.

Scotty and I, slightly tipsy, managed our way up the stairs to our bedroom and tumble into our comfortable bed. Scotty lay on top of me and as I caressed him, he fell asleep. A few hours later I awoke to a wonderful sensation. Scotty was tenderly giving me oral stimulation. It did not take me long to climax. Scotty then returned to laying on me and I asked if I could return the favor and he said ‘no,’ he was sleepy. He smilingly said he awoke and wanted a late night snack. Then he kissed me and fell back to sleep. I lay there listening to the guy I so deeply loved, softly snore and gave thanks for being fortunate to have this diminutive sweet towhead as my life partner.