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    William King
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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.

Rompecabezas. - 3. Chapter 3 - Waiting.

[Second Edition]

It was no less hot when I woke up, but the sun had moved further west and a few hours had passed. I noticed a bathroom at the end of the hall when I arrived so I decided to go freshen up, but taking my bag with me just to be safe. After all, I had everything I owned in that little bag, it wasn’t much, but still I didn’t want to lose it. Worse, and it had already happened, is to lose your passport, then you pretty much have no alternative other than to head to the capital to do what’s required to get a replacement.

I hated this place, the dirt and the intense heat. I stumbled along the corridor feeling groggy, it was difficult to sleep and hard to wake up. I was in a permanent state of semi-conscious drowsiness. As I approached the bathroom and opened the door I heard running water, someone was already in the shower. There was no privacy in the small bathroom, a wall was all that separated the shower from the dirty cracked washbasin. I looked at myself in what remained of the old mirror, somebody stared back at me, but I wasn’t certain who that person was.

The water stopped and the boy they called John, Jabez, appeared from behind the wall. I looked at him standing there, tiny drops of water trickling down his brown skin and evaporating fast. He was thin, you could easily see the outline of his ribs. His short black hair curled over his forehead, he looked back at me and grinned. He was very cute, this boy.

He turned around, looking back over his shoulder at me. He wanted me to follow him, and I was unable to resist. I discarded my pants and joined him in the shower, leaning across him I turned the water on. Our bodies touched, skin against skin, the cool water washed over us. I let all the dirt wash away. He took a bar of soap, his touch was very gentle as he began to lather the soap over my shoulders, my chest and back. Of course I saw he was hard, he had not invited me into the shower without wanting me, which was kind of nice.

His soapy hands finally glided down to my own erection and just as gently he soaped my manhood which responded to his touch. After a moment I took the bar of soap out of his hands and I in turn lathered soap all over his body. I let my hands touch his penis and slide around and underneath to cup his balls. Then my hands went around his back, gripping his buttocks and sliding into the crack between. I inserted a soapy finger into his ass, he moved and looked up at me. He sighed as I twisted my finger around, his eyes said everything, there was no need for words.

I had been on the road for what seemed like a very long time, days merged together until all sense of time passing evaporated, just as everything evaporated in the searing heat. During all that time I had had no sex and now I gave myself to it completely. With both hands resting on his tiny shoulders, I turned him to face away from me. I took hold of my manhood and placed it at the spot where my finger had been. I guided my penis to that secret entrance and pushed it into him. The boy leaned forward and groaned. I pushed deeper, he pressed his hands against the wall, palms spread upwards. I covered his hands with mine. His small hands disappeared entirely beneath my own.

I started to move my hips to glide in and out of his ass as I listened to his little groans and whimpers. My hands went to his hips as I rhythmically pumped my cock into him, then around his thin waist to play with his erection and to cup and fondle his testicles. All the time I was pushing in and out, never ceasing as I caressed his body and played with him. The tension from those past days began to build until I had no control and thrust and thrust, burying my cock in him as my balls bounced off his ass. He moaned a long humming like sound as I exploded inside him. Remaining there, pushing gently, I felt his ass contract several times, squeezing my cock and draining every last drop of semen as he shot a milky white trail into the wall of the shower.

I hugged him very tightly, I turned him to face me and I kissed his lips, my tongue probing deep into his mouth.

*****

It was time to see if the truck I was to take had arrived, I went down the stairs and crossed the bar. There were a few more people than earlier, maybe seven or so. I didn’t pay too much attention, but went straight over to the barman to ask if the truck for Chiapas had arrived.

I had to find El Cuervo de Plata. Chiapas would be the last truck stop, I had been travelling far too long, it was becoming more and more difficult. I sensed the changes that happened when I slept were becoming more frequent and impossible to control. I needed to hurry, because if I switched again during my sleep I wasn’t certain I would find myself back here.

Things could, however, conspire to keep you in one place. I was not surprised when the barman told me the truck would arrive very late and would not leave until the morning. He asked me if I wanted to keep my room for the night. I said I did and that I would eat later. Then he surprised me again. I should not really have been surprised, I already knew he was a magician, a man who could read people. I suppose being a barman he had a lot of time to practice and hone his skills, especially with different people passing through here every day. He asked me if he should send John to my room, I hesitated a moment, then nodded. He grinned, and I paid him.

It occurred to me that I didn’t know the barman’s name, which normally wouldn’t matter, except when the barman was a magician and he was in your circle. I would ask John tonight. I sat down at an empty table and looked around at the others in the room. As I was doing this I also thought about the boy they called John, but whose name was Jabez, I realised he was probably a helper and that he could aid me in my search.

The colourful ladies were nowhere to be seen, the other occupants in the room mostly looked like drab travellers. The two men I had overheard earlier were still there. Two new men that were in fact looking very similar to the first two, sat together at a table. They both wore crumpled worn suits, one had a small brown case standing on the floor next to his seat.

Between these tables was an interesting group, two men in black suits and a well dressed lady. She wore elegant clothes of a mostly pale blue colour. She had a rather flamboyant hat with a peacock feather, and one of her gloved hands held a silk fan with which she attempted to cool herself. It was not at all usual to see a group of well-dressed people in a truck stop bar room. It was totally incongruous, there had to be something significant here. When a part of the scene you are looking at doesn’t seem to fit, it could mean there was a breach, a leaking from one structure to another. There were many signs to watch for, nothing should ever be taken for granted.

The barman brought me a cool beer. You see he already knew me, after less than a day. He asked if I would eat now, or later, and I said that now would be fine. Before he left I beckoned him closer with a wave of the hand, and he leaned forward over the table. I smelt the odour of cigarette smoke mixed with some cheap scented perfume. I saw the trace of an old stain on the sleeve of his jacket, something that had never been quite washed clean. “Make sure you give John a meal,” I whispered to him. “He is way too thin, and that can be unattractive.”

He smiled his crooked yellow teethed smile. I knew he was thinking that what I said was true, and I was sure he would make sure the boy was fed. I knew how his mind worked. This barman could read people, but so could I. A healthier looking boy was easier to sell to his customers than a thin underfed wretch. It occurred to me as the barman left that I would have to take Jabez with me. I could see no other choice, he was a helper and a messenger. I was bound to free him, he had already attached himself to me.

*****

The meal was a dismal affair consisting of a bowl of soup, the colour of which matched the dirty yellow walls of the room. It tasted of nothing. Water with no flavour and an occasional bean, or piece of vegetable. There was a main dish that was not much better, but was at least filling and consistent. The bread I didn’t touch, it was so hard you could break your teeth on it.

I thought about staying to drink another beer, and watch the table with the elegant people. But I didn’t, I went upstairs to my room. It was still light outside, still unbelievably hot. I took off my clothes and lay down naked on the bed. I hadn’t propped the chair under the door handle because I knew Jabez would arrive.

Despite my intention to stay awake and despite the heat, I still managed to unintentionally drift into sleep, to be woken by a quiet taping at the door. I hauled myself up off the bed, turned the key in the lock and opened the door just enough to look out. It was of course the boy I saw standing there. I opened the door, let him in, then closed it behind him, turned the key and fetched the chair to wedge the door shut.

All the time he must have been watching me, he stood with his back against the window. Now it was dark outside. I realised at that moment I was naked, but I paid no attention to the fact. “I fell asleep,” I told him. “Come to bed with me. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

I went back to lie on the bed and listened as he got undressed. He joined me laying naked next to me, side by side on the bed. “Would you like me to do something?” He asked, sounding uncertain about the situation.

“No Jabez, just sleep please.”

He curled into a ball on his side facing away from me towards the edge of the bed. I turned to face him and cuddled up next to him. I let my hand stroke his hair, then I wrapped my arm over him, and we fell asleep like that.


---

Copyright © 2018 William King; 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.
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This is wonderful .... slow, hypnotic, are there fans overhead stirring the heated air? The cool, not cold, cool beer ... all these words, simple in themselves, you use to bring this world alive. I love it!

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On 10/21/2016 08:25 PM, Mikiesboy said:

This is wonderful .... slow, hypnotic, are there fans overhead stirring the heated air? The cool, not cold, cool beer ... all these words, simple in themselves, you use to bring this world alive. I love it!

I'm embarrassed, your comments are so nice, so encouraging especially so because this story is a departure from my two previous books, a different genre and a big challenge.

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Some quotes from this chapter:

 

"…changes that happened when I slept…"

 

"…part of the scene you were looking at…"

 

"…leaking from one structure to another…"

 

"…a helper and a messenger…"

 

So this traveler is a seeker, but of what, and why is his landscape so surreal? Naturally, I will read on to find out.

 

The way it ended made me think the man and boy were experiencing first contact. So what then was the opening shower scene? A fantasy; another dreamscape foray? I don’t know, but I am intrigued.

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On 11/10/2016 05:11 AM, AC Benus said:

Some quotes from this chapter:

 

"…changes that happened when I slept…"

 

"…part of the scene you were looking at…"

 

"…leaking from one structure to another…"

 

"…a helper and a messenger…"

 

So this traveler is a seeker, but of what, and why is his landscape so surreal? Naturally, I will read on to find out.

 

The way it ended made me think the man and boy were experiencing first contact. So what then was the opening shower scene? A fantasy; another dreamscape foray? I don’t know, but I am intrigued.

The story develops in a sometimes confusing fashion, but it was not the first contact with the boy. The boy is someone he needs to save/protect.

 

There is a logic to why the landscape is surreal, you may have an idea as the story develops, you will certainly find out before it's over.

 

Thank you for reading and for your review comments.

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Interestingly, I am briefly reminded of Patrick McGoohan's old TV show, The Prisoner. Not because of any similarity in plot, but rather because that show also held the viewer captive in a dream. You never knew if what you saw was as real as it seemed, or if it meant what it looked like it meant. I haven't seen the show since I was a teen, and that was in reruns on PBS. That show is likely as old as I am.
That it has stuck with me, though, is a sign of the impact it had for me. Any story that operates along the lines that reality is flexible leaves much to the imagination of the reader. So I am enjoying seeing the inside of my own head through your eyes, as it were. :)

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