The Bookstore Clerk Read online

  He studied me, lowering his voice.

  “You like Jennings,” he said, then stared at me as I blushed. “He’s a pretty good man, isn’t he?”

  I nodded.

  “Good in bed?” he whispered, downing the last of the Napoleon and finishing his coffee.

  Again I blushed, but nodded again.

  “Better than any I ever had before.”

  He smiled and patted my hand.

  “I’m happy for you, in more ways then just one. It’s great to see your life changing. Anything could happen; you just have to be there.” He winked and we both got up to leave. I hurried back but he still had a half hour to kill. He went for the basement door so he could read his Spanish comic book. I smiled and went through the revolving doors into Doubleday’s.

  Coming up to the second floor, I instantly saw Miss Terri stepping into the elevator. I put my name tag back on my lapel and starting shelving books, keeping my eyes on Connie; something was up, I was sure of it. Connie was assisting her customers, but was keeping her eyes on me. I neared the shelves containing the X, Y, Z authors, not many, and looked at the nearby non-fiction paperbacks that Connie was in charge of. As soon as she saw me, her face filled with hatred and spite. She slammed a book down, two customers glancing at her, and went to the other side of her non-fiction section. I got out of there and hurried to the center of the fiction section. I hoped it would work out as long as we stayed apart.

  About an hour later, Timmy peered in to have a look.

  “Everything okay?” he asked, winking at me.

  “As good as it can be,” I answered, winking back at him.

  He nodded and went back downstairs. Connie glared viciously at me again. I shrugged and went on with my work, refilling the shelves with some best sellers, The Armies of the Night by Norman Mailer and Myra Breckenridge by Gore Vidal. I always blushed when someone bought the Vidal book, and someone seemed to be buying a copy every hour. I told myself that I would read it. The notion of cross-dressing intrigued me, enough so that every time I saw someone looking at the book, I felt my penis happily rising in a salute. Mailer’s Armies I stayed away from; military or angry demonstrations had nothing to do with me, and that’s for sure.

  I had my other break at three, and Maryann, another nonfiction clerk, also had her break then; we walked out together. She was my age, in her 20s, but the way she kept her hand up to her face clearly showed off her wedding ring.

  “Nice ring,” I said, looking at it.

  “Oh, this?” she blushed. “It’s my wedding ring.”

  “Yeah, I thought so,” I said, smiling at her.

  “You married?” she asked and blushed, as if she knew the answer; I also blushed.

  “Nope, got better things to do.”

  We were walking around the block and were on Madison Avenue.

  “Like what? Don’t you want a family?”

  “Sure I do, but there’s more to life than just a family.”

  Maryann snorted.

  “Yeah, like what?”

  “Like loving the person you’re with, that’s a family, there’s nothing greater than that.” We looked at each other. “Been married for long?”

  “Four months tomorrow,” she said.

  “Wow, nice,” I grinned at her.

  She looked at me.

  “What’s so nice about it?”

  “I don’t know, that you’re married, I guess?”

  She snorted.

  “A lot of good that does,” Maryann said sadly, shaking her head. “Guys have it so much easier, you know?”

  “We do? How do you see that?”

  “Guys can pick and chose who they want, we have to wait until a guy likes us but that doesn’t mean he won’t be cheating on us, because he will.” She nodded her head as if telling me a secret truth.

  “Oh, that’s crazy. Absurd, really. If you don’t like a guy, tell him ‘Goodbye, Jack, hit the road, buddy.’ And before you know it he will, anyway. What’s he going to do about it? Absolutely nothing!”

  We were back on 5th Avenue. She frowned and shook her head.

  “You think it’s that easy?” Maryann sighed as we passed through the revolving door, I passed after her. “Just wait till you’re married, then you’ll see.”

  We walked up the stairs.

  “How do you know I’m not living with someone? We can do without the legal crap. Life can be beautiful.” I winked at her and went back to my station.

  There weren’t that many full-time bookstore clerks. The majority were part-timers who were actors, dancers, or stand-up comedians trying to get a big break in the show-business world of Broadway. A few of the girl clerks asked me if I was an entertainer. I shook my head, “Nope,” and watched them walk away, annoyed by my response. I shrugged. I was in a better place, having Timmy. But Maryann was a puzzle to me, trying to appear happily married when she wasn’t, but still holding on to her dream. I suppose there were millions like her in New York City, struggling through their days and still spending their nights dreaming, but arguing bitterly with their spouse. I sighed. What could I do about it? Again, absolutely nothing! They were married and I wasn’t, at least not like them.

  As the afternoon drew near its close, the evening clerks appeared on the floor. A few, I noticed, were like Timmy and me, obviously homosexual men, actors and dreamers. I instantly felt close to them, but Timmy later told me, “You have to be careful. Just because they’re like us doesn’t mean they can be close to us. Man, they’ll eat you up and spit you out as easily as anybody else can. You have to watch it with foolish queers just as you have to watch it with bitter lesbians.” He shook his head. “But we have us,” he winked. “That’s more than enough.”

  Near 4:30 I saw Miss Terri on the floor, heading directly over to Connie, who was near the stairway, chatting with an evening clerk. Almost instantly you could feel the tension. The evening clerk instantly disappeared as Miss Terri said something to Connie, who lowered her head but said nothing. Miss Terri gripped her arm and forced to look up; she saw me looking at them. I turned away. Connie said something to Miss Terri, who listened. Then she came in my direction.

  “I’m very disappointed in you,” Miss Terri said. “The customer was here this afternoon for his book and we didn’t have it because you purposely sold it off. You made us look ridiculous. Do you take pleasure in doing that?” I looked at her. “Answer me!”

  “It’s not my fault he didn’t come sooner. Our policy is to hold the book for seven days, then it goes on the shelves again.”

  “It was not on the shelves because it was being held in the basement. It should have remained there until he picked it up!”

  I shook my head and shrugged.

  “A customer asked for the book. I called the stockroom and was told we have it. It came up and I sold it. Just doing my job.” I hesitated, then added, “Ma’am,” and I turned away and went back to my rows of books.

  My workday was over; I’d done pretty well, I thought. I removed my name tag, smiled at the remaining evening clerks and headed down the stairs, where I met Timmy about to come upstairs. We smiled at each other and he put his arm around my shoulder.

  “You did well, sport,” he winked at me. “I’m very proud.”

  I grinned back at him, wishing we could do more than just having his arm around me. Kissing would be nice, I thought, blushing. He removed his arm from my shoulder and we crossed busy 5th Avenue, making our way to Broadway and the subway.

  “Bet you’re tired,” he said on the subway. At that time of day it was packed.

  “Nope, I feel very much alive. The work didn’t take anything from me. I feel wonderful!”

  He laughed.

  “First-day excitement, that’s all it is. Wait a few days, then you’ll see. It’ll become a boring, tiresome affair,” he nodded.

  I grinned.

  “Sure hope not.”

  I glanced around the subway car. The majority of people were reading newspapers or pape
rback books; a few even held up hardcovers. I looked at Timmy reading, and I was happy. But where did this notion of his being my helper come from, because that’s what he certainly was—coming upon me in Times Square and taking me into his home. I wonder if people meet that way and somehow know that this person is someone they’ve just been dying to meet, just as that person was doing the same, dying to meet them as well. Do they feel it in the slowness of the subway train as it crawls uptown? Do they feel just how near their destiny is? Or do they just arrive at their stop, take their things and just get up and leave?

  I shook my head. We had come to the 86th Street stop.

  “Pardon me.” Timmy was beside me, pushing his way through the crowd. “Pardon.” I was right after him.

  When we got to the platform, Timmy was sweaty and wiping his brow.

  “It seems to be worsening, each day the crowd getting bigger and bigger. More people are moving uptown. It wasn’t like this just a few years ago.”

  We went up the subway stairs and were on Broadway.

  “No difference up here,” he continued, “but at least you can breathe up here.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, I don’t think the guy next to me had any deodorant on, the smell was pretty powerful.”

  “Hmm, I smelled that, thought it was you.”

  I laughed. “You like that smell?”

  “Only if it comes from you,” he winked and opened the front door.

  “I think it’s gross,” I squirmed and shook my head.

  “I agree; a little deodorant always helps.”

  We reached the second floor and saw Henry’s door was ajar.

  “Hmm, he must be back.” Timmy knocked on the halfopen door. “Henry, you in here?”

  We heard someone walking through the apartment; it was Henry, looking a little worn.

  “You’re back quickly.”

  Henry shrugged.

  “Jewish funerals: They’re done pretty fast.”

  Timmy cleared his throat.

  “This is Billy, I believe you’ve met?”

  We shook hands as Henry readjusted the skullcap he was wearing.

  “Yes, yes, we met. Didn’t know you’d ever have a roommate again.”

  Timmy smiled. “You mean, at my age?”

  Henry vehemently shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re still a very young man.” He winked at me. “Anyway, we’re almost the same age.”

  “Not as young as Billy is, eh?” He put his arm around my shoulder, winking at me, too. I blushed and looked down. “Again, our condolences.” Henry nodded and we went upstairs.

  “Seems like a nice man,” I said on the stairs. Timmy put his finger on his lips.

  “He can’t seem to get a roommate,” he whispered. “Every month he has someone else there,” he opened the door, “and they always argue and argue.” He shrugged. “Nothing I can do about that, is there?” He shut door. “As long as I have you, that’s all I need.”

  We were in each other’s arms. It was like we’d been waiting just for this moment. We fell on the bed, hugging and feeling each other up as we threw our clothes on the floor. I tried going down on him but he held me off. “Do it this way,” he said, turning me around and bending me forward, with him clutching my waist. I didn’t understand at first but felt his penis probe my asshole.

  “No, I can’t,” I said, quickly turning around. “I never did it like that, you know, getting it up the ass.”

  He fell on the bed. “Of course, I understand, just thought you did. There are many other things we can do to make us both happy.” I cuddled beside him, his arm around me, my head resting on his chest.

  “I want to learn,” I said, looking up at him. “I had never sucked anyone before you, but now I like it very much. Same with taking it from behind, you’ll have to teach me. Please teach me,” I said, staring at him. “I want so much to learn.” I lowered my eyes, gently rubbing the nipple at his chest.

  We kissed.

  “I think its best we bathe and get warmed up. That will loosen us up, getting rid of the cares and woes, don’t you agree?”

  I nodded.

  “Yes. Yes, I do,” I said, rubbing my hungry ass cheeks.

  Chapter 26 The hot tub was ready and I stepped in, easing down in the very warm water, its soothing comfort feeling lavish. Earlier, as we’d walked across the room, he had lovingly squeezed and tweaked my buttocks, even probing with a finger. He’d gotten a small jar of Vaseline from the medicine cabinet.

  “I haven’t used it since Danny was alive,” he said sadly. “Never thought I’d be using it again. It makes for a good insertion,” he said, and he winked.

  But I was no longer afraid; this was a man whom I loved and who loved me in return.

  “A pity I can’t step in with you,” he said, shaking his head. “The tub’s too small for that. But you wash up and get relaxed in the hot water, it will open you up and I’ll get in after you’re done, okay, sweetie?”

  I nodded, watching him leave. I took a small bar of soap and lathered myself, spending a little extra time on my backside, shoving the soap in and out and doing it over again. I don’t know if the soap fucked me or not—it entered slightly, but did it go deep enough? Still, I felt refreshed, clean and eager for anything, no matter how deep it went in, but I sure was ready.

  I walked into the bedroom, wiping my hair and feeling myself getting erect. Timmy set down the book he was reading, got up from the bed, and came over to me. Again he tweaked my ass, rubbing my buttocks and momentarily trying to insert his finger. I didn’t care what he was doing, even bending me over for better insertion.

  “Let me get in the tub,” he said, still rubbing my ass. “We’ll both feel renewed and refreshed.” He winked and went to the bathroom.

  “Hurry up,” I called after him. “I can’t wait.” Quietly I added, “Ass fucking, that’s what I’m going to get.”

  I shrugged, giggling, and finished wiping myself. I stood before the long mirror in front of his closet, tweaking and squeezing my buttocks. I turned around, holding them up high, and getting a better view of my asshole. Oh, God, right in my ass, what a lovely feeling that would be!

  I went to the bed and lay on it, looked at what he was reading. The Confessions of Nat Turner by William Styron. I didn’t open it. Too deep for me, that’s for sure. Thought about Connie and Miss Terri. What were they doing now? Arguing bitterly or tenderly caressing each other? I couldn’t imagine Miss Terri being tender. I shivered and shook my head. I doubted if Connie would be able to argue back. She’d probably stand there with her head lowered as Miss Terri spat venom at her.

  I turned over and lay on my chest, holding my ass up in the air, positioning it in various ways and craning my head to see what the best angle would be. Timmy came out, his eyes wide and staring at my round, eager buttocks.

  “Hmm, very lovely, I must say.” He licked his lips and got on the bed, lowering himself over me. He cooed in my ear about how lovely I was, all the while rubbing my asshole with Vaseline, trying to push himself in. Suddenly I panicked. I squirmed under him and twisted around to face him, falling onto my back.

  “I’m scared, very scared,” I mumbled. “And ashamed, too—”

  “Oh, bosh, don’t be. Just a natural reaction and fear of something new. I was the same many years ago, when it was my first time.”

  “You were?”

  “Uh huh,” he nodded. “And the big boy was very rough and crude in his drunkenness.” I saw he had gotten sad as he lay atop me.

  “Please tell me,” I whispered. “I want to know what it was like for you.”

  He looked at me.

  “Yes, I’ll tell you. We were just kids,” he said, slowly shaking his head. “It was in the 1940s and I so much wanted to be an adult. I used to hang out with the older boys. We lived outside of Pittsburgh, and most boys were in the Army. The boys I hung out with always had good times, but didn’t do anything rough. I think I was their mascot for a time and I felt good, good and
proud that I was accepted by them.”

  He still lay atop me but his hands were at my head, his fingers stroking my hair. I was beneath him, with my legs open as I felt his stiff penis pressed against mine.

  “I liked this one boy, Sidney, and I was sure he liked me, too. But one day he showed up drunk and wanted us all to go into the woods. The other boys refused, told him to go home and sleep it off, but Sidney said “fuck off,” and started staggering into the woods. I watched him disappear, nervously jumped up and ran after him. I caught up to him and he put his arm around me, shoulder to shoulder, and we staggered on.”

  My legs had gone around his thighs and my heels tapped gently against his buttocks. He looked at me.

  “You like that,” he asked. “Rubbing against my backside?”

  I nodded. “Same as you do, tweaking my ass,” I shrugged. “But tell me what happened in the woods.”

  “As we walked, he started talking about his old girlfriend, the one who just had gotten married to someone else. ‘I used to fuck her like a pig,’ he’d say ‘because she was one, who took it in the ass because she wanted to stay a virgin for husband that she’d meet one day.’ What a bunch of malarkey girls spread in those days.” He shook his head, “as I’m sure they’re still doing.”

  I had moved my legs, lifting them to his waist, and he readily put his arms under them, holding my legs braced behind my knees. I think the realization of what we had maneuvered ourselves into suddenly hit us that we were ripe for a fucking, an ass-fucking, just as a man did with a woman, or a man did with man, and I was playing the part of the woman.

  “And,” I asked, “what happened then?”

  I felt his penis prodding against my asshole; a look of wonder showed in his eyes.

  “Amazing, I have never done it this way before, it’s simply amazing.”

  I felt his penis struggling and pushing in against my tight, resistant asshole. I knew I had to be in a relaxed mood or it would never break through the stubborn, resistant sphincter, no matter how much Vaseline he’d used. But his penis probed and slowly pushed in.

  “In an instant he had my pants off, twisted me around and he entered me from the rear.” He stopped, as if marveling at what we were doing. “Amazing, simply amazing, that it could be like this, face to face.” He probed in a little more, man to man, ass to dick, deeper and deeper, playing the mating game! He was in me! “There was a little blood but he fucked me and staggered off into the woods. You could say I was growing up.”