This appeared in the Oz Zine "Contraband" and is posted with permission.
Archive to CKOS, EmCity and Den of Sin
If you liked this, please tell me. nicxf@softhome.net
My fic can be found at: http://denofsin.slashcity.net//nic/nicolepage.html
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me, they belong to Fontana/Levinson, Rysher, HBO and some other people.
Summary: Musings of Keller at the end of season II.
Comments: Big thanks to Gemma, Amy and Orithain who helped me work it out. HUGE thanks to Shug, who produced an awesome zine - without her we wouldn't have EmCity.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
OZ
First Time for Everything - NC-17
by Nicole S. (9/99)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It's an hour after lights out, and I'm standing here in my pod looking at Beecher's empty bunk. I've done this every night since...since the incident. He should be here, but he's not. And he's not here because of me.
I caress the blanket and the pillow, noticing the few golden strands that cling to it. I pick them up and hold them between my fingers, observing their silky softness. I sigh, put my head down on the pillow and breathe in deep. I can still smell him. I close my eyes and feel myself drift off but then I snap awake and stand.
I can't sleep. Not since it happened. Not since I double crossed him.
Thinking back, we should have just killed him; it would have hurt all of us less. But no, Vern with his flair for the dramatic had to break his arms and legs. Sorry, have *me* break his arms and legs (well most of them). Shit, did I really do that? I mean, I've done some pretty bad shit in my time, but I haven't done anything *that* bad to anyone before.
Okay, I've killed people...two as a matter of fact. But once you're dead, you're dead. With Toby, he's got years of pain ahead of him. Not just physical pain, either.
Not only did I fuck up his body, but I fucked up his mind. I seduced him, told him I loved him and made him believe that. Then told him I didn't love him and made him believe that too. I saw the hurt in his eyes, the disbelief when he realized the betrayal. Vern and I laughed at him, at his pain, while Metzger sniggered in the background. It didn't stop me, those blue eyes pleading with me, his voice screaming in anguish; it just made me work faster.
But what's that matter? The deed's been done, and I can go on with my life, right? Wrong. I stand here night after night looking at Beecher's...Toby's bed, wishing he was here, feeling... I can feel something...something kind of like remorse, but it doesn't come. It sits in the pit of my stomach and waits for me to acknowledge it, but I ignore it and hope it will go away.
I argue with myself, tell myself, 'Hell, anyone else in my situation would have done the same fucking thing! When your ass is on the line like that and it's eat or be eaten, you'd better bet your fucking life I'm going to be the first one to start feasting'.
I fucking owed Vern, and now I've done his dirty work and paid back my debt to him. Like I haven't been paying all along or something. Saving my ass in Lardner has been a long, hard road of sucking cock, getting fucked and other *odd jobs*, now this. Will it ever end? Only if one of us dies or gets paroled. And it ain't likely either of us are going to get paroled any time soon.
O'Reilly's been looking at me funny. I think he knows what I've done. Forgive me, brother, for I have sinned. But then again that could just be my own paranoia about getting caught. Goddamn but I hate getting caught. The truth'll come out only if Metzger blabs, and that isn't going to happen. Or Vern. Or me. And that certainly is *not* going to happen. I'm taking this secret to the grave.
I have to keep my emotions in check, make sure my façade doesn't corrode. I remain stoic and go about my business as if nothing's happened. I mingle with the others, do my job, play checkers, play cards, play the daily game that is Oz through the dreary monotonous haze.
When we started *Operation Toby*, I was excited. Sure I didn't mind seducing some high class drunken asshole - I wanted to do it - wanted to show some rich fuck what's what. Hell, I thought I'd even get my dick sucked in the process, get off once or twice.
Of course, Vern left out a few details, such as Toby was a fucking nut and was hard to crack. But then I got to know him and started to actually like the poor bastard despite everything I was telling myself. // He's a rich asshole. He's a goddamn *lawyer.* You're gonna just fuck him over anyway.// He knew things; he was smart; he had something about him that made me want to actually be his friend for some incredibly fucking strange reason.
I don't *like* people, certainly don't trust a whole lot of them either. But then, as I said, there was something about him that made me really laugh at his jokes and kinda *want* to help him unfuck himself. While fucking him up, of course. Sure, it was all an act to get Toby to trust me and love me so I could betray him. I kept telling myself that and believed it most of the time.
All the touching, the late night comfort when he woke screaming - no, I mean fucking *screaming* in the middle of the night - that was good. I liked pressing my body up against his and wrapping my arms around him to reassure him everything would be okay. I felt him respond, too. I could hear his breath catch in the back of his throat as he backed his ass into my crotch for those brief seconds before he pulled away.
His blue eyes would shine at me in the dim light of our pod after he had splashed his face with cold water. The droplets would trickle down his beard and land on his naked chest as I held out a dry t-shirt and pair of underwear for him. He had no fucking clue as to what was really going on. I'd put my arm around him and press our foreheads together and tell him we all had nightmares, to not have them would make us less than human. I told him nightmares showed remorse, and that was a good thing when you were up for parole. He'd take the dry clothing and climb back up onto his bunk and go back to sleep.
Yes, Operation Toby worked like a charm. Worked too well actually. I *wanted* an excuse to put my arm around him, to run my hand down his back to end where his spine curved to his ass. Subtle movements in a late night haze of nightmares and planned seduction. When I held him, I felt a tingle in my stomach and in my balls. I wanted more. I wanted *him*.
I'd lie there in my bunk, my hard cock aching and not being able to do a thing about it. God, I wanted to drag his ass off of his bed, bring him down to mine and fuck him silly, make him beg and cry and scream my name. Thinking about that just made me want to touch him more. Anything for contact, for that barest amount of friction. I couldn't jerk off - didn't want him to know I was actually a horny little bastard that couldn't keep himself restrained. No, I didn't want to frighten poor Toby - not after what Vern did to him. *Poor baby*.
Instead I clenched my balls between my legs and suffered. I just told myself that I was scoping out a new wife and relief would be on its way soon. Unfortunately, our wedding night would never come.
All the wrestling designed to drive him nuts drove me nuts as well. Our skin glistening with sweat sliding over each other, his hand on the upper part of my thigh, my hand squeezing his ass. It was all I could do to keep from humping him through my shorts. Then I had to shower with him. You don't want to know the things I thought about to keep from getting hard.
Time passed and he started to trust me - I couldn't believe it - it was working! He started to seek me out when we weren't in our pod to whisper little jokes into my ear. I could see his face brighten when he saw me, the smile on his face making his baby blue eyes glitter in the harsh light of Oz. // Don't go there, Chris. Keep it in check. Don't fall for those eyes.//
Then Bonnie told me about her impending marriage and I knew I had what I needed to push Operation Toby over the edge. Yeah, I didn't *want* to get drunk, but I thought Toby would sympathize with me, recognize my *weaknesses*, the same weaknesses he had; women breaking your heart, liquor, and fall right into my arms. And he did. See I'm not as dumb as I look.
Toby's lips felt good, even through the haze of the liquor - God did they feel good. The first time is always the sweetest time, and you know there's a first time for everything. My lips pressed to his, and my arms came around him as I backed him up to the washing machine. I was so excited that I could hardly breathe, and I forced myself to take large gasps of air as I kissed him. I wanted to fuck him right on top of that goddamn washing machine if I could. My dick was throbbing with anticipation, harder than it'd been in a long, long time. I grabbed for his pants and started fumbling drunkenly with the button as my tongue entered his mouth, searching, probing, wanting so much more. I could see him bent over, screaming my name as I buried myself in his ass, stroking hard, sweat pouring off of our bodies...but that didn't happen. The hacks came, and I ended up in the hole, and the rest, as they say, is history.
And now I can't sleep. Haven't slept in days, don't know when I'm gonna again. When I close my eyes, all I can hear is the *snap* of Toby's bones breaking as I told him the awful truth. *I never loved you.* SNAP. *Vern and I go way back.* SNAP.
Fuck, but which is the truth? Did I or didn't I? Love him, I mean. I wonder about that myself. I haven't loved anyone in a long time. Only really loved one man in my life, and that was so many years ago.
So I lie here, thinking about things, wondering how my life ended up floating on this black river of lust and violence. Dunno if I should be thinking about it all. Haven't thought about my life in years. Not the bad stuff anyway.
My mind is swimming with things I've done, people I've known, all brought on by this whole Toby thing. This has never happened before. I bury the truth and the pain of my life down in the pit of my stomach and let it fester until it stops gnawing at me from the inside. Now I have these images in my brain, things I don't want to dredge up. It's as if I'm Ebenezer Scrooge. I'm half expecting Rebadow to come floating through my pod door as the ghost of Christmas past or something.
I think of Bonnie...poor sweet Bonnie, who told me she was getting married again just to spite me. She told me not to bother looking her up when I got out again because she wouldn't be around. She wouldn't be waiting for me like she did before. I really did truly love her, and now she's going to be with someone else. Some guy who will never love her as much as I did...or steal from her, or cheat on her, or divorce her twice, or fuck with her head. I let out an audible sigh; I can't believe I'm dwelling on all this shit.
~~~~~~~~~~
I remember the first time I really noticed her, standing in her tight jeans and striped sweater with her Farrah Fawcett hair glowing in the sun. It was the end of the school year, and I was 16 and lived in a small, blue collar town. You know the kind of place where everyone worked at the mill or factory and didn't make all that much money. I was poor white trash, living on the wrong side of town, but then again, so was she.
That night, we ended up at the same party at Greg Askew's house. I was getting blitzed as usual, and I probably couldn't have remembered my name if you asked me. But God, I took one look at her and knew she was beautiful. I had seen her in school, when I went, hanging out with the other girls smoking out back. I'd pull up on my motorcycle and turn a few heads as I gunned the engine. Oh yeah, that got the girls looking at me.
So here she was talking to me at this party, laughing at my jokes, taking tokes off of my joint. I led her out into the back yard, and we sat on the picnic table and made out. After that night, we were joined at the hip. She'd sneak out at night to meet me a block away from her house and hop on the back of my bike. We'd drive out to look at the city and make out for awhile, then I'd drive her home. I'd go home and jerk off and think of her and her lips against mine and her tits. God, she had nice tits. She let me touch them, too. But that's as far as it went.
I decided, six weeks later, however, that I was sick of jerking off and tonight would be the night I finally got my rocks off. Yeah, I was a virgin up 'til then, save for the occasional hand job at a party. But that was before Bonnie. Before we ended up in the back of Drew MacDonald's parents' stationwagon parked in the garage.
I could still hear Kiss blaring from the house as I moved my lips down to hers, being as gentle as I possibly could, only knowing what to do from porno movies and accounts from other guys. I knew I had to take it slow; I knew I couldn't let my dick take charge.
Well, that lasted about a minute. Soon I was moving too fast, my hands squeezing her tits too hard, but I didn't care. I didn't care because I was finally going to get laid. I was going to get to stick my dick in something besides my hand, and if it didn't happen soon, I was going to come in my pants.
I kissed her hard and she kissed me back just as strong. My tongue entered her mouth and brutally foraged around, giving her cause to suck on it, like I knew she would. I moved my hand down lower and grabbed her crotch through her tight jeans. I could feel the heat there waiting for me, knowing it was wet and soft and God, it was going to be good.
I popped the button on her jeans with one hand while the other undid my own. I freed my cock first before it fucking exploded, then pulled down her pants. God, it was everything I imagined. With all the knowledge of a 16 year old virgin, I immediately tried to take the plunge and pressed the head of my cock up against her soft folds. I groaned. God, it felt great.
"Chris..."
My hands were on autopilot as I pulled back and dug for the condom packet out of my pocket (I at least knew *that* much).
"Chris!"
I fumbled with the wrapper and decided to use my teeth to open the sucker. I rolled it on my cock and positioned myself again, her legs over my shoulders in the back seat of this car. I was shaking with anticipation.
"CHRIS!!"
"What?"
I realized that she had been talking to me for some time. My voice cracked and I cleared my throat. My throbbing cock was poised at her entrance, and if I didn't get in there soon, it was going to be all over.
Suddenly, she scrambled up and dislodged her legs from my shoulders. Then she began to pull up her underwear and jeans.
"I can't," she said as she did up her shirt.
"Can't what?" She's fixing her fucking hair in the rearview mirror, and I'm sitting there, my dick leaking and throbbing and my brain swirling around and around.
"I promised I wouldn't."
I sat on the seat, my bare ass shivering against the cold faux leather.
"Promised who? We said tonight was the night, just like the Rod Stewart song, remember?" I took her face in my hands and kissed her. "Baby, I just want to show you how much I love you." // Now pull your fucking jeans off and let me fuck you for Christsakes!// I smiled at her and caressed her face and hoped this would break her out of the temporary insanity that she was obviously suffering from.
"I do love you, Chris."
// But.//
"But I can't have sex with you." She whispered *sex* like my Grandma used to whisper *cancer*.
This was not cool. For weeks I'd been waiting for this, and now it wasn't going to happen. I brought my hand up to my forehead and massaged my temple, "Why not?"
"I promised Jesus Christ I wouldn't. I promised in Church, in front of God that I'd wait until I was married."
I reached out to her again and tilted her head up to meet my gaze, "He won't mind, baby. How's he gonna know?"
Oh fuck, *wrong* thing to say. She practically sneered at me as she spoke.
"Chris Keller, if you loved me you'd respect that I have to wait." She quickly fixed her lipstick and reached for the door.
"I do, babe, but I'm suffering here. I love you so much that I need to show you in a physical way..."
She wasn't buying it. "I'm sorry, Chris. No. I'm going home." With that she got out of the car and slammed the door behind her and left me sitting there with my still hard dick covered by the condom and hanging out of my pants.
I sat there in disbelief. I could hear the party still going on at Drew's house, and I thought of everyone looking at her as she strode through the house too soon to have done anything. I put my head in my hands and literally screamed. Suddenly, there was a knock on the window beside me.
"Hey, Chris, how's it hanging?" The sound of laughter followed the sentence. "It's not really hanging, though is it?" More laughter.
I look up and see my friend Kenny ogling me. He's pointing to my crotch and laughing. I gave him the finger, pulled off the condom and tried to put myself back into my jeans without causing major damage. As painful as it was, I got out of the car and stood before him. His hand shot out and offered me a beer.
Had it been anyone else, I would have been totally embarrassed, but this was my best friend in the world and had been for ten years. When he moved in three doors down from me 10 years ago, I knew there was something special about this kid with the auburn hair and brown eyes. I knew he would be a guy you could count on, that you could trust. Soon enough, within hours, actually we were best friends and wreaking havoc on the neighbourhood. His mom called us the Terror Twins and told my Grandma, "Those boys are gonna be friends for life, I can feel it."
"Shut the fuck up, asshole." I punched him in the arm. "When did you get back, man?" I said as I slapped him on the shoulder. I smiled at him, and he smiled back. I left my hand on his shoulder for a second, squeezing the flesh underneath.
Kenny looked at me, his big brown eyes glowing in the dim light of the garage, he smiled slightly as he shrugged off my hand. "An hour ago. Ma's at work, and the whole town's talking about this party." He looked around, "Too bad it's a bust, though. Not like New York. They got the coolest parties, man."
Kenny went to New York every summer to visit his Dad. Kenny's Mom told him she wanted him to have a male influence in his life so she shipped him off every year. He mostly ended up running wild in the streets as his dad was a gambling alcoholic. We all knew it was just to get him out of the house and out of her hair for awhile.
The past few years, every time Kenny left for New York, he told me he'd be gone for good. He told me he was never going to come back to this fucked up town, he was going to get a job and make it big singing in some band or something. He was all talk, he'd spin tales and make up elaborate scenarios to impress people all the time, I was no different. He'd try to convince me that he'd actually make it big as some rock singer, he'd be famous, he'd blast off to New York without giving this place a backward glance. Thing was he always came home and always brushed off all his promises, like they weren't a big deal.
We left the garage and began to walk down the road toward home, no sense in standing around here anymore. "Party's awright."
He just snorted and continued to puff on his smoke.
Kenny had taught me a lot. Being a year older than me, he looked out for me. My old man fucked off when I was young, and Kenny was there to guide me through life. He taught me about motorcycles, taught me the facts of life, taught me about music, taught me how to take care of myself when no one else would. He also taught me how to steal. Alone, we could get what we wanted to survive - smokes, beer, money, records, but together we could boost half of the inventory on display at an electronics store *while* the store was open, in broad daylight without anyone noticing a thing.
"So, uh, who was that, anyway?" Kenny took a long drag on his cigarette then flicked the butt away.
"That was Bonnie. You remember Bonnie from school?"
"School? No, not really. She's got a nice rack on her."
"Yeah, they're pretty nice." I smiled and took a healthy swallow of my beer, "She said I'd have to marry her before I could fuck her."
He whistled. "That's harsh, man."
"Tell me about it." I walked down the lane sipping my beer, feeling my still hard cock rub against my jeans. This thing was never going to go down on its own, I was going to have to sneak off and take care of this.
"So are ya?"
"What?"
"Gonna marry her?"
I snorted, "No way, she'll come around."
"Yeah, just turn on that endless Keller charm."
I punched him in the arm, and we were silent for a minute before he started telling me all about his trip, about the records he bought, the clubs he went to, the people he hung out with. He always had a good time, always made some *connection* or other. He'd also come back with suitcases full of swag, stolen from the nudie shops and vendors in Times Square.
We walked together as he told his story, ending up at his house. We finished our beers and threw our empty beer cans through a sunroof of a car. Kenny's mom worked at the Stardust Lounge, staying most nights with some loser she'd pick up. Save for him, or me, Kenny's house was almost always empty.
His room was most of the basement, a musty smelling, sometimes damp place where we escaped most nights he was home. There was a small room that held a washing machine and dryer; the rest was Kenny's domain. A washroom was roughed in, the plumbing fixtures a collection of odds and ends. One of Kenny's mom's boyfriends tried to refinish the basement for him, but she dumped him long before he could complete the job. Two by fours framed the walls and a door hung in a space that would be logical if the drywall was up.
Kenny had decided to make his own walls with various rock posters tacked to the wood. His bed was in the corner beside a dresser and a desk beside it that was covered in clothes and clutter. There was also a weight set that was missing a few parts. This was separated from the rest of the basement by beaded fringe that hung down across the whole width of the basement. In the other part of the large room, there was an old couch and two leather chairs facing a large console type television and VCR.
The VCR was one of the first VHS units to come out. Kenny had heard about this thing and wanted it so bad, he just had to have it. So down to Patterson's electronics we went one sunny Tuesday afternoon, intent on leaving with this monstrosity. I had to distract Mr. Patterson while Kenny boosted the thing. The fucking thing was so heavy that he almost gave himself a goddamn hernia. He loaded it into a shopping cart and wheeled it home while I discussed record needles with Mr. Patterson for a good 20 minutes. When I got to Kenny's house, he was sitting in front of the television, frowning. Now he needed tapes. So back to Patterson's we went, and I had to distract Mr. Patterson *again* while Kenny boosted some movies.
I flopped down on the couch and made myself at home. I took off my leather jacket and turned on the TV, flipping around for a few minutes before settling on Saturday Night Live. I settled back on the couch and brushed my hair out of my eyes. My mom wanted me to cut my hair, telling me that my father wouldn't approve and we should look nice for when he came home. It had taken me a year to grow my hair this long, I wasn't cutting it now.
That was the thing about my Mom; she wasn't all there. When my dad took off, she didn't eat or take care of me or anything, and I had to go live with my grandma. She was in the hospital for a long time. Then when mom got out of the hospital, she came to live with us. Grandma had died a couple of years ago, and now it was just me and her. She was okay to live with, but she cleaned all the time so everything would be nice for when dad comes home. I kept telling her he wasn't coming home, that he was gone for good, but she wouldn't listen, so I just stopped telling her.
She worked for an accountant, helping him with his numbers, typing letters, getting him lunch, shit like that. She got me a job at the hardware store downtown. I didn't exactly want a job, but the money was cool, and it seemed to impress Bonnie (my cock was *still* fucking hard as a rock). A couple of weeks ago, I started stealing the tools from the hardware store and selling those on my own. I made twice as much as my wages.
Kenny came out of his *room* with a bottle of Jack Daniel's. "Goddamn, I swear I had a big bag of weed in my suitcase."
"You didn't leave it at your dad's, did you?"
"Shit, he's probably smoked it by now," Kenny grumbled as he sat down beside me. He tossed me a videotape. "Here, put this in for some excitement."
I put in the tape, and it turned out to be a porn flick about some big burly cop fucking some dude and his girlfriend up the ass with his billy club that's actually a dildo. Kenny was talking to me, I could hear him telling me about some chick he met, but I wasn't really paying attention. He was talking and talking, and I was watching this guy get it up the ass with this dildo. And not only was this guy getting it up the ass with a dildo, but it was making me hot, and I was wondering how that would feel. I nearly groaned out loud; that was the *last* thing I needed right then.
"We should do it, Chris. We should just fucking do it."
Suddenly I snapped back to reality.
"What?"
"We should do it. It's not like they earned that money."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Robbing the Credit Union that I've been telling you about for the past 20 minutes."
"We're gonna rob a Credit Union?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"For the money, nimrod. Why the fuck do you think?" I must have looked at him like he was retarded because his eyes narrowed, and he got this leer on his face, "You chicken, Keller?"
"No, I'm not fucking chicken."
"Then what's the problem? Like I said, the manager and other bosses are on that conference for three days. There's not going to be *anyone* who gives two shits about their job in that place. We go in with ski masks and these and come out rich men."
Kenny handed me a handgun. I looked at it and hefted the weight in my hand. Kenny held the same kind of gun in his own hand. "Where the hell did you get these?" I asked. I wasn't familiar with guns; I'd never shot one before in my life.
"A friend." He pointed his gun at a poster.
"I don't know how to use one of these."
"What's to know, you point and shoot."
"Is it loaded?"
"Course it's loaded. Why the hell would you have an unloaded gun?" He raised the gun again and pretended to shoot his television. The cop was now fucking the boyfriend up the ass with his cock, not the dildo, while the girlfriend was sucking the boyfriend's cock.
I breathed out slowly. "What're we using for a getaway car?"
"Your bike - it's easy to handle. We take the plate off, there's no way to trace it to you."
I looked at him as he lit a cigarette, I trusted him with my life; he was my best friend. If I didn't do this with him, he'd do it by himself and probably get caught or something. Plus, he'd get to keep all the money. And as much as this sounded like a stupid idea, I wanted to do this. "Okay, when do we ride?"
Two weeks later, I was screaming up the main drag, weaving in and out of traffic, narrowly keeping our asses alive. The fucking security guard shot at us as we hopped on my bike, and I didn't know if Kenny was shot, hell, I didn't know if I was shot. All I knew was that I was to keep riding until we lost the cops and got to our *hideout*. I looked behind me; there were no cops, and Kenny was okay. He was smiling at me, giving me this shit-eating grin telling me "We did it. We got away with all the fucking money!" His arms squeezed me tight as I gunned the motor and screamed down the street to our destination. It took all my strength to keep the bike on the road because the adrenaline rushing through my veins was making me jumpy.
I pulled into a small laneway and parked my bike around back of a run-down apartment building, making sure it was hidden by the dumpster and a few wooden pallets. We then went inside and ran upstairs to the apartment Kenny had *rented* a few months ago to stash some stereos. There was a mattress and a couch, but that was about it for furnishings. We ran to the windows and looked down at the street, ears ready to hear any sirens that had followed us. We waited 10-15 minutes for the cops to break down the door, holding our breath to hear better. We stared at each other but didn't see each other as we concentrated on the noise of the traffic outside. As for sirens, we didn't hear a thing.
Kenny arched his head back, thew his arms out to his sides and let out a scream. I leaned back against the wall because my knees were threatening to give way at any moment. This was so fucking exciting, so....exhilarating, that was the word. Fuck, it was unlike anything I'd ever felt before, and it was overwhelming me, and I was going to fucking pass out.
"We did it, man! We fucking did it! I told you it'd be easy." Kenny punched the air with his fist and kicked an empty box around the room.
I stood there, still leaning against the wall, and started laughing. Yeah, we fucking did it. Holy shit. I couldn't move. I was laughing so hard, and tears were streaming down my face, and I was shaking.
"I fucking shot the fucking guard. BAM BAM just like that and we got AWAY." Kenny kicked the box again before he stomped on it. "I fucking shot him, and he went down hard like that." He slapped his hands together and stomped on the box some more.
"You shot the guard?" I barely croaked, still laughing.
"Yeah, twice."
"Is he dead?"
"How the hell should I know?" Kenny kicked the box again and stomped on the floor. "We fucking did it!"
I stopped laughing and wiped the tears from my eyes. I didn't know Kenny had shot the guard. I thought we were the ones being shot at. This made things different. It was one thing to rob someone, but to shoot someone in the process...that was a whole other fucking thing. I suddenly felt weird; I kinda felt bad for that guard for some reason. I swallowed and breathed out and pushed the feeling down into my gut. If Kenny wasn't worried about it - and he did the shooting - then I wasn't gonna worry about it either.
My knees still felt weak, and I realized I was still shaking. I slumped down to the floor and took the gun out of the waistband of my jeans and laid it beside me. I watched Kenny pace for a few minutes before he noticed me sitting on the floor.
"You okay, man?" Kenny asked, nonchalant, lighting a cigarette. He stood over me, unzipped his jacket and brought out a white plastic bag. He then sat on the floor in front of me and carefully took the money out of the bag. God, it was beautiful.
"Yeah, I'm okay."
He gave me the cigarette while he flipped through the money. I took a long drag and tried to calm down, but I was still shivering. He counted it quickly then laughed and snorted.
"Check it out. That bitch didn't do it right." He flipped through the money and showed me how it went from ones to fives then back to ones again then tens then back to fives. "See, what they're taught to do is to place the marked bills in with the other bills, but she fucked it up, she did it backwards. So now we take this marked money and give it to a friend of mine who can exchange it for unmarked bills."
"Too fucking cool."
He took the cigarette back from me. "Too fucking cool. By this time tomorrow, you're gonna be three thousand bucks richer."
"Fuckin' A."
"Yeah, that's fuckin' A, baby." Kenny looked at me and ground the cigarette out into the floor then leaned forward. He hesitated, leaned back but then leaned forward again.
Suddenly his lips were pressed up against mine in a searing kiss, threatening to rip my lips right off. I felt a shock run through me as I realized what was happening. Kenny was fucking *kissing* me. What the hell?
He pulled back and looked at me, and I looked at him. I could feel my chest heaving, my breaths heavy, and I shivered as he licked his lower lip. He hesitated for a brief second then kissed me again. His arms came up around me and held me tight as his tongue probed forward.
I gasped for air and pulled away, allowing him to remove my leather jacket. He looked me in the eye, silently asking my permission, and I gave it. We moved over to the mattress that was covered by an old blanket, shedding our clothing along the way. My brain was screaming something at me, and I could hardly believe this was actually happening, but I let it anyway.
He moved over me, and I swear he could probably see my heart beating in my chest through my skin. He kissed me hungrily, his tongue entering my mouth again, playing with my own. I moved my hands up and down his back, digging my fingers in as I sucked on his tongue.
I was so fucking hard, and I could feel that he was too as he ground his cock into my hip. His hands were moving with practiced movements, skimming over my body, caressing the right places, and I thought, // Oh yeah, he's done this before//.
His mouth came off of mine and moved down to my neck, teeth nipping at the skin. I could hear someone moaning, and I realized that it was me. I was trying hard not to just lie there; I was moving my hands down and squeezing his ass, but it felt so damn good that my brain wouldn't let me do much more than that.
His fingers plucked at my nipples as his mouth moved down lower, sucking on the skin at my collarbone. The mark I was surely receiving on my body would raise questions from all that saw it. But I didn't care about that at the moment.
He shifted and rubbed our cocks together, making me gasp for breath. His mouth came back up to mine and lingered, nibbling on my lips as he settled his weight on top of me. I felt fluid leaking out of my cock to mingle with his own, leaving a sticky film on our bellies. His hips were moving, and he was rubbing against me, making this feel so damn good.
Kenny stopped moving for a minute and just lay there on top of me, kissing me. Then he got up and kissed a trail down my body, pausing to suck at a nipple, nibbling and biting the sensitive skin around it. I arched into his touch, sweat running down my face, letting out tiny whimpering sounds with every swipe of his tongue.
I saw him grin, but he didn't say anything as he moved lower down my body. His hands grabbed my hips and pulled me toward him. Then he took my cock in his mouth. I was sure time had stopped, and I was pretty sure my heart had stopped as he moved his mouth up and down. His tongue flicked across the tip, making every nerve ending in my body scream in delight.
I let out a whimper and a moan as his hand moved down to caress my balls. I was clutching at the blanket on top of the mattress, and I couldn't believe this was happening to me. Forget the fact that it was my best friend and he was a goddamn guy; no, I was concentrating on how good this felt. I spread my legs to give him better access to my balls as he'd pulled off my cock and begun bathing my sac with his tongue.
Something was pressing against my asshole, something was trying to gain entrance, and my mind went back to that movie I saw a couple of weeks ago with that guy who got fucked up the ass by that cop. I clenched and resisted. I didn't want to do this, did I? Have him fuck me like that? His mouth came over my cock again while one hand caressed my balls, and I lost all sense of resistance. I opened up to him, and his finger was suddenly inside me.
The pressure was building; I could feel tingling in my balls and the base of my spine and my stomach, and I was going to come soon. Suddenly, a bolt of lightening shot through me, and I was screaming, coming into his mouth, panting. Fuck, it felt like I was reliving every high I'd ever experienced all at once. His mouth came off my cock, and he jerked me with his hand, and I came all over my belly and chest, mind spinning. I lay there for a few minutes, oblivious to anything going on around me, still feeling the aftershocks of the orgasm travel through my body.
I lay there, boneless, watching Kenny slick up his rather impressive erection with the come on my chest. Then I was being flipped over on my belly, and my back was being massaged. His hands moved down, caressing, soothing until he got to my ass. He spread my legs far apart and moved his finger in and out again. I moaned into the dirty mattress; whatever he was doing back there felt great. He'd stroke a certain spot in my ass, and I'd jump with pleasure and feel my cock harden. Soon he was pushing inside me, his cock sweetly stretching me to accommodate his size.
Sweat was pouring off of me, and I could hear him breathing heavily. "Feels good," I managed to croak.
Kenny just moaned and leaned over me. His arms came around me, and I could feel his hot breath on the back of my neck as he slid in and out of my ass. I was hard again, and my cock was rubbing against the blanket, trapped under me, making my head spin some more. It didn't take long before he was grunting and cursing into my ear as he slammed into me. I came first onto the blanket, groaning something incoherent. Kenny wasn't far behind.
"Fuck. Fuck yeah. Fuck yeah, Chris."
I could feel him push into me a few times before he moaned and went stiff. Then he pumped a few more times and collapsed on top of me. I was as limp as spaghetti; I don't think an earthquake could have moved me. A few minutes later, he slid out of me and cleaned us up with a corner of the blanket. We lay there, dozing off beside each other, not holding each other for some reason. The only parts that touched each other were our ankles that were crossed over each other.
It was dark when he finally spoke. "We should go soon."
"Yeah."
"Don't want to do anything that would be suspicious. We should go home and pretend nothing happened."
I wasn't sure if he was talking about robbing the bank or the sex, but I assumed he meant both. I sat up and reached for my clothes, but he grabbed my arm and pulled me back to bed. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed me sweetly, his lips soft on my own.
"Come to New York with me."
I was shocked. If there was one thing Kenny was clear on, it was that his time in New York was his own. His mom offered to send me with him last year, but he made it totally known that he didn't want me to tag along. "Really?" I asked.
"Yeah, it'll be cool. You can be my roadie or something when I'm a big *rawk* star."
"Cool." I laughed nervously, unsure what to say.
"We'll leave tomorrow night. We'll take the train." He leaned over and caressed my cheek with the back of his hand.
I nodded at him, and he smiled at me, and then we got up and got dressed.
We rode home on my bike, Kenny's arms tight around me, just like yesterday but this time different. He nuzzled my ear with his lips and kissed my neck as I drove. It was pitch dark when we pulled up in back of his house, the lane almost devoid of light.
He took my chin in the palm of his hand and caressed my bottom lip with his thumb before he kissed me again. I closed my eyes and put all I had into that kiss, my heart dancing and leaping as his tongue brushed against my own. Then he pulled away and slapped a paper bag into my hand, said "See you tomorrow," and went inside his house.
I stood there for a minute and felt inside the bag and realized it was my cut of the money. Then I gunned the engine and went home, a huge smile on my face. I went to my room, undressed, crawled into bed and lay there grinning, not showering to keep his smell on me. God, I could still feel him inside me, moving. It was so surreal, I didn't know if it even really happened. God, I was hard just thinking about it. Then again, I was 16, when was I *not* hard?
I reached down and took care of myself quickly, wishing I had gone home with him, wishing I could feel his fist around my cock and his cock up my ass. God, if this was what I'd been missing, I didn't need Bonnie. I was going to move to New York with Kenny, and we were gonna live high on the hog for awhile, party, find a place to live. We could fuck all the time. I grinned and rolled over onto my side and hugged my pillow, smiling the whole time before I fell asleep.
The next day I was on cloud nine. I waltzed into the hardware store and gave Mr. Anderson my notice. He said he was sorry to see me go, but I had to work my last shift if I wanted to get paid. I didn't need the money, but I worked hard for that scratch and agreed. I wasn't expected at Kenny's until night, and the train didn't leave until 10; I had the time. I was fucking floating on air all day at work and couldn't wait to get home so I could go over to Kenny's house. As soon as I got home, I changed out of my uniform, packed my bag and sauntered up to Kenny's back door and opened it. I was just starting down the stairs when Kenny's mom called out.
"Chris? Chris is that you? C'mere hon."
"Hey, Mrs. Davies," I said as I took the three steps up to the kitchen.
"He's gone."
The words didn't stick in my brain. "What? Who?"
"Kenny."
"What do you mean?" It hit me like a ton of bricks as the words left my mouth. I knew exactly what she meant.
"He's not here, Chris. He took his shit and left early this morning. He said he was going to New York and never coming back." She took a drag of her cigarette, her long red nails gleaming in the kitchen light.
I didn't say anything, but I know I must have this look of shock on my face because she said, "I'm sorry, sweetie. I'll tell his father to tell him to call you if he sees him, okay?" She exhaled, blue smoke swirling up to the naked light bulb hanging from the dingy ceiling. "But I gotta tell you, I don't think he wants to be found. I only knew he was leaving because I came home when I did. I had to corner him to tell me where he was going."
She was still talking as I turned and walked down the broken steps and went home. He went to fucking New York? Without me. After...after...shit. I had to keep calm; this was not normal. Your best friend just didn't fuck you, ask you to go away with him, then leave town forever without you. It didn't happen.
I went home and sat in my room in a daze, listening to mom putter in the living room with the vacuum. I didn't tell her I was leaving; I figured I'd just call her when I got to New York. I was going to mail her some money as well. I unpacked my clothes, tears heavy in my eyes, too stupid to just go to the train station and get the fuck out of Dodge myself. Instead, I crawled into bed and lay there, staring at my ceiling until morning.
I'd think about that later, how I just should have left. I should have bolted down to that train station and gone to New York myself. Things might have turned out different if I had. Instead, I got sent to Lardner. When I got out, Bonnie didn't want me anymore, so a decade after Kenny left, I finally made my way to New York. By then, I was a jaded punk who robbed for a living, not just for recreation. Never did see Kenny...
~~~~~~~~~~
The bell rings and the lights come on, snapping me out of my dream. Was it a dream? Was I sleeping? I can't tell. The lights make me squint at my reflection in the mirror. I look like shit. I can still sort of see that 16-year-old boy in there, the one who was left with a sore ass and without a friend. Barely. No use feeling sorry for that boy, he's long gone.
I pee, wash my face and get dressed and wait for the door to open, ready to face another day in here doing the zombie dance with the others.
Is it worth it? All the pain, all the suffering for your ego, for love? I don't know. My pod door opens, and I walk out the door and get counted. I shuffle down to breakfast, get my food and sit down. Vern sees me and looks at me with unsympathetic eyes. I turn away and dig into to breakfast, not tasting the food, grateful to be finally too tired to think.
THE END