CHAPTER TWO

LONELINESS

Open spaces

where no

tender thought

has passed.

closed spaces

filled with

grouping people

without faces.

empty spaces

waiting for

 frantic people

craving sex.

Tommy Frank felt clean and fresh for the first time in days. He had showered, after waiting in line for the longest of time and laundered his clothes that consisted of a Hooters T-shirt and jeans. Glancing at his battered Timex he noticed that it was only 4:25 p. m., early but still time to go to work.

I got a job! And I’ll be on my feet in no time. Tommy Frank thought as he hurried down the hallway of the youth hostel.

“Amigo,” Martinez called out as Tommy Frank passed his bunk room.

Damn, I wish he would leave me alone. He stared at me the whole time I was taking a shower. “Later, I got to get to work,” Tommy Franked called over his shoulder and quicken his already hurried steps.

The walk from the youth hostel to the restaurant was just a little over a block and a half. I feel so different from his morning. It is like I am a totally new person. I got a job and a couple of bucks . . . if only Mr. Wadkins would notice me. God, I could fall in love with him. Oh, could I.

Tommy Frank paused to read the menu posted in a podium beside the front door of the restaurant. He suddenly let out a whistle. Gee, how can anyone afford to eat in such a place. He shook his head. You could eat at Burger King for a week for the price of one meal here.

When Tommy Frank entered the restaurant a young man with a dark complexion and dressed in perfectly pressed expensive slacks and a silk shirt rushed up to him.

“Yes,” he asked rather snottily while giving Tommy Frank a disapproving look.

“I . . . I’m just coming to work. I’m the new dish washer,” Tommy Frank mumbled shyly suddenly intimidated by the young man’s elegance and arrogance.

“Oh, Havens! The help doesn’t come in the front door!” The man snorted with a look of horror on his face. “Oh, heavens go around to the side door,” the man added, shaking his head as he turned and stalked away.

Embarrassed, Tommy Frank back out the door and walked around to the right side of the building. Spotting a small door, he hesitatingly tried it. He tried the door. It opened to small room with pegs lining the walls on which were hung sweaters and scarfs and other odd and ends. Through a door less entry he could see into the kitchen. The scene inside resembled a fire ant bed that someone had poked with a stick. White uniformed men were hurrying back and forth.

Tommy Frank took a deep breath and stepped into the confusion. People went by him right and left but none seemed to even notice him. Finally, he spotted Mr. Wadkins near one of the black Garland stoves surrounded by white uniforms.

Threading through the kitchen chaos, Tommy Frank nervously made his way toward his new employer. He stopped outside the circle of hovering employees and peeked through the group at the over weight balding man. Mr. Wadkins’s darting blue eyes made Tommy Frank sighed as he dished out orders and directives. He had dreamed of such eyes on desperate lonely nights.

Tommy Frank signed again and shook his head. Mr. Wadkins will never take much notice of me. Even the waiter knows that I didn’t belong in such an elegant place as Artist Cafe. I’ll never forget the repulsive look on the waiter’s face. I saw myself in his eyes. I am nothing but a lowly, almost homeless dish washer and no one except those looking for quick sex are ever going to pay me any attention.

“I see you are on time . . . I do think it is about time you gave me your name,” a loud gentle voice called above the kitchen clamor.

It took Tommy Frank a moment to realized that Mr. Wadkins was addressing him.

“Ah . . . Sorry, Mr. Wadkins, I guess I did forget to give you my name. I am Tommy Frank Jones,” Tommy Frank said as his tan face turned red with embarrassment. Damn, I took money from him and didn’t even give him my name. That was dumb, really dumb.

“Well, Tommy Frank, welcome to Artist Cafe, the best restaurant in Key West. Just remember that keeping the dishes clean and ready is just as important as any creation that the kitchen thinks up or the service that we give our customer. Everything is important, everyone is important,” Mr. Wadkins said as he glanced around at this staff.

“Jesus!” Mr. Wadkins called out sharply as he spotted Jesus entering the service door and waved his hand for the Cuban to join them.

“Yes, Mr. Wadkins?” Jesus answered. He giggled while trying to hide his bloodshot eyes as he approached. He looked at Tommy Frank but wouldn’t look directly at his boss.

“Please show Tommy Frank how to work the dish washer and go through the routine with him,” Mr. Wadkins said almost sharply and seemed to have to force his smile.

“I’ll be glad to, Mr. Wadkins!” Jesus tried to sound energetic but failed.

“Tommy Frank, run along with Jesus and he’ll show you the ropes.” Mr. Wadkins smiled at him and the smile seemed genuine. “Later when it is not busy come by the office. I have some employment papers for you to fill out,” Mr. Wadkins added. As he spoke, he stared straight into Tommy Frank’s eyes without blinking.

Mr. Wadkins’ blue eyes made Tommy Frank weak kneed with their intensity. “Yes, Sir,” Tommy Frank somehow managed to mumble as he forced himself to turned and followed Jesus.

“Shit! I was hoping he was going to put me on as a waiter tonight. Fuck! Now I have to train a dish washer!” Jesus growled as he approached a corner of the kitchen with two stainless steal machines and shelf after shelf of glasses and flatware. “Did you see how he was looking at you,” The Cuban said rolling his eyes? “He can’t keep his eyes off a new piece of meat. I could kill the son of a bitch,” Jesus hissed between clinched teeth.

“Sorry, Jesus, I didn’t mean to be any trouble,” Tommy Frank said as a feeling of helplessness began to sweep over him. How can I ever get anywhere in Key West if a good-looking guy like Jesus couldn’t even get put on as a waiter. A country bumpkin like me will never be anything except a dish washer. Heck, I can hardly even read the menu there were so many French words. But Mr. Wadkins certainly did look at me like he was interested and that made Jesus mad. “Don’t worry about Mr. Wadkins, he’s not my type,” Tommy Frank said out loud as he thought, Man, is he my type. I give my right nut to go to bed with him.

“Hey, man, it isn’t your fault. It was just that I thought since Bruce had called in sick, I might get to replace him. The boss might fuck you, but he’ll never be really interested in someone like you, kid,” Jesus said as he grabbed an apron from a hook and handed it to Tommy Frank along with a pair of rubber gloves. “You are so green that you looked like you just stepped out of the tomato fields.”

“What’s wrong with this guy Bruce? He caught a cold or something?” Tommy Frank said ignoring Jesus remarks and trying at small talk.

Jesus stopped and stared at Tommy Frank for a second, “I keep forgetting that you are fresh off the bus. Bruce has full-blown aids.”

Tommy Frank’s mouth dropped open at the mention of aids.

  Jesus must have seen his shock cause his shook his head and added, “man almost everyone is Key West is positive! Keep than in mind and you might just live longer.”

“Really!” Tommy Frank asked, showing real astonishment.

Jesus rolled his eyes and shook his head again, “man you really come from the sticks. They will eat you alive here.”

“Any way I was telling you about Bruce. The guy is more that just the top waiter. He is just the most important waiter on the Rock. No body, but no body, can wait tables like Bruce,” Jesus explained with such enthusiasm that he waved his arms as he talked. “He is a legend. And he has been training me. I’m going to be the next legend on the Rock. People are going to be talking about me like they do him”

“I see,” Tommy Frank said nodding his head. I see that you are a little wacko. “Dishes are beginning to come in. How does these things work,” Tommy Frank ask, eager to start working.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were so eager to brown nose the boss. You really don’t have to, you know,” Jesus said then shrugged his shoulders. “Do it you way, farm boy.”

Jesus moved closer to one of the dishwasher. “Now this is how you put glasses in this fucking machine,” Jesus said as he angrily began filling the glass racks in the dishwasher.

Tommy Frank feared Jesus was going to break some of the glasses but remained silent as he watched the Cuban demonstrate how to stack silver wear and flat wear into the dishwasher.

Maybe I am infected with aids already, Tommy Frank thought as he watched Jesus. He mentally shrugged. What good was going through life without love. He had as soon be dead if he couldn’t make love to an older man. As bad as it had been when he had realized that Jim only wanted him for a quick fuck, he had still enjoyed the experience. And even for a brief time felt something kind to love for the older man. Until I find love, I need that feeling. Aids or no aids.

“O.K. it’s your turn. Do your job, Amigo,” Jesus called out. He closed the door of the first dishwasher. “And when they bring you big stuff, you wash it by hand in the sink. I ain’t showing you that.” He held up his arm to show his Rolex. “This thing is worth more that both of these fucking machines and all the dishes in this dump. And I ain’t going to get it wet for nobody.”

Tommy Frank begin loading the dishwasher just like Jesus had demonstrated.

“Hey, you are doing a great job,” Jesus said after watching Tommy Frank for only a few moments. “You were born for this type of work. You farm boys make the best workers while us city boys make the best lovers, especially us Latinos” he added and then laughed in a high pitched girlish giggle. “No need for me to stand over you. I got better things to do. I’m their right-hand man in the dinning room. And you watch, I’ll be a waiter before the week is out. Bet you,” he said giggling again. “Later, Farm Boy, and don’t call me if you get behind,” Jesus called out as he headed for the dinning room.

This isn’t a very glamorous job. It makes me feel like a scavenger/ Stop thinking that way and just do it. A job is a job, Tommy Frank told himself as Jesus strutted away.

A waiter that Tommy Frank hadn’t met brought a tray stacked with dirty dishes and buried himself in cleaning food from the dishes. Then before he finished with that tray another one arrived.

It seemed that no matter how fast he worked he was behind. Jesus and sometimes the waiters kept bring tray after tray of dishes. It was as thought they were trying to test Tommy Frank. Even when his arm grew so fatigued that he had to struggle to left a tray of dishes, Tommy Frank didn’t complain. He forced himself to move fast. Faster! Faster! Concentrate! He kept telling himself. The job so consumed him that Tommy Frank didn’t realize the pace of the arriving dirty dishes had slowed. Only when he reached for a tray and found nothing did he pause and look around the kitchen.

The cooks, he couldn’t tell which was top man, were talking and laughing among themselves in a more casual manner than earlier and seemed to be cleaning up and putting things into storage.

 Jesus strutted into the kitchen with a big smile and carrying a tray with only two cups and two saucers, “That’s it! Wash these and what they give you . . . ,” he said motioning over to the cooks, “. . . and you are finished for the night, Amigo,” he added and giggled.

Tommy Frank felt like yelling with relief but forced himself to keep quiet. He just nodded his head and started washing the things Jesus had brought him.

“Man, I scored tonight,” Jesus whispered. “Got talking with this old man from Chicago and he invited me to his room at the Reach.” Jesus giggled. “Man. He was wearing this diamond ring big enough to choke a horse. It’ll go good with my Rolex. The old man must be loaded.” Jesus reached down and grabbed his crotch. “Man. I’m loaded too! Catch you later, Farm Boy,” he said between giggles as he walked away.

He is really nothing but a hustler. At least that the way he acts. Tommy Frank shrugged. Maybe he is not a hustler. Maybe men just buy him things. I saw movies where men buy women gifts. Could be the same thing. Tommy Frank held up his ring hand. Would be nice to have a diamond ring or a Rolex. He shook his head. Stupid thing to think. I’m never going to get anything for free.

“Damn! I wish they would stop gabbing and finish up,” Tommy Frank thought as he waited for the cooks to give him the last utensils.

Finally a grossly fat red head waddled over carrying some stock pots. Tommy Frank expected the buttons of the man’s double breasted uniform to pop at any moment from the pressure of too much flesh stuffed inside.

“Here’s the last of the pots. Wash these and your night’s work is over. And you did a good job. I never had a dishwasher that could keep up the first night on the job,” the fat red head told him as he placed a stack of pots in the sink. He manage to brushed his hand against Tommy Frank’s ever so slightly as he let go of the pots. “I have been eyeing you all night. You are one handsome guy, but I bet you know that already,” he added in a high pitched voice. “How about going downtown with me for a drink when you finish up?”

“Are you the head cook?” Tommy Frank asked refusing to meet the fat man’s stare.

“Yea, I’m the head chef,” the fat man replied, his voice suddenly hard and unfriendly. He reached up and touched his white hat as though that should mean something to Tommy Frank. But when he didn’t get any response he added, “you can always tell the head chef by his hat because. He wears the tallest one.” Then he shook his head and walked away before Tommy Frank could reply.

Damn, I should be making friends not enemies, Tommy Frank thought as the chef walked away.

 By the time he removed the last load from the dish washer, Tommy Frank’s legs were trembling from fatigue. Even taking off the apron and rubber gloves as difficult he was so tired.

Then he suddenly remembered what Mr. Wadkins had said about coming by his office to sign papers. He is probably gone home already. I should have remembered and gone sooner. He is really going to think that I am a dumb farm boy, Tommy Frank though as he looked around the kitchen for Mr. Wadkins’s office. Damn! I don’t even know where the office is? Not wanting to open the wrong door, Tommy Frank finally forced himself to approach the head chef.

“Excuse me . . . Sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” Tommy Frank said awkward with embarrassment. For a moment he didn’t think the red head was going to answer.

“Mark. The name is Mark,” the fat man said as he removed his tall white hat. “Anything else?”

“Well, yes . . .,” Tommy Frank started

 “What is it?” Mark interrupted. “I don’t have all night.”

“Ah . . . Mr. Wadkins said I should come by and fill out some papers,” Tommy Frank mumbled.

“So?”

“I. . . I don’t know where the office is?”

“Through the door on the right at the far end of the kitchen,” Mark answered a little less gruffly.

“Do you think he is there or has he gone home?” Tommy Frank asked.

“Oh, he’s there. He is always the last one to leave the restaurant,” Mark said loosing up even more. “Nobody around here works as hard as Walt. I don’t see how he does it, especially now that Joe isn’t here,” he added shaking his head.

Tommy Frank wanted to ask who Joe was, he but didn’t. Probably one of the waiters, he thought.

“So?” Mark demanded. Yet, he no longer had that angry look. “Is there anything else you want from me or can I leave ”

Tommy Frank’s face suddenly turned scarlet. “Oh, sorry. No nothing, and thanks for showing me the way to the office.”

“Oh, don’t mind me, kid. I just don’t take rejection easily,” Mark added and actually smiled.

“Neither do I,” Tommy Frank mumbled walked toward the office.

Tommy Frank felt awkward entering Mr. Wadkins’s office. He knocked lightly on the door. I almost hope he’s not in. Damn, I like him. Never thought I would meet a man as handsome as him. Quit dreaming. He isn’t going to give me a second look. He is going to reject you like you did the fat man. He just needed a dishwasher, that’s all.

“Yes, come in.” Came the gentle yet masculine voice from within.

Tommy Frank took a deep breath he opened the door and stepped. inside he knew the answer.

“Sorry to bother you, Mr. Wadkins. Ah . . . but you asked me to come by to sign some papers.”

“Tommy Frank, come in!” The apparent enthusiasm in Mr. Wadkins’s voice surprised Tommy Frank.

“Hope I am not disturbing you?” Tommy Frank said for lack of anything else to say.

“Not at all. I was just going to call it a night! We did very well for this time of the year. I keep waiting for the public to grow tired of us but they keep coming back for more,” Mr. Wadkins said while fishing in a drawer of his desk for some papers. “I seem to spend all my time trying to think up new dishes to replace the ones falling out of favor,” he added as he finally found the forms that he needed. “Here fill these out and you are supposed to show me your driving license and social security card or something. Just show me you driving license.”

“Here,” Tommy Frank said, pulling his driving license out of his wallet.

“So you are from Alabama.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“What town?” Mr. Wadkins asked.

“Dothan. It is in the southeast corner.”

“Yes, I know Dothan. I drove through once on my way from Atlanta to Panama City Beach. You ever been to Panama City?” Mr. Wadkins asked.

Tommy Frank relaxed at the mention of Panama City. His memories of the white sandy beaches of Panama City were great. It had been there than he had his first homosexual encounter. He had been with Sammy McCalister and Jerry Strickland at the Hangout, a dance place and arcade along the beach. While Sammy and Jerry had been busy dancing with local girls, he had spotted a stout older man smoking a cigar.

He had walked over and stood next to the man not expecting anything to happen but just wanting to me near him. The man had surprised him by speaking to him almost immediately. After a long conversation he had asked Tommy Frank if he wanted to come to his motel for a while. Tommy Frank agreed although he had worried that his friends would miss him. That was the first time that someone had sucked his cock. Even though he had given the man his address and telephone number, Tommy Frank had never heard from him again.

“I used to spend a lot of time down at Panama City Beach. It was my hangout when I was in high school,” Tommy Frank said as old memories flashed through his mind.

“One of these days I am going to visit Panama City again. Key West doesn’t really have a nice beach,” Walt said, leaning back in his desk chair. “I love to lie on the beach. I usually go to Higgs Beach every Sunday. Monroe County Beach is nicer but there are too many tourists there for my liking. What beach do you go to, Tommy Frank?”

“Both . . . ah but I think I like Higgs Beach more,” Tommy Frank replied looking up from the forms he was laborious working over and trying to dig into the fuzzy memories of the first few days. He couldn’t remember much about Higgs Beach except for a pier and all the homeless. “I think I have answered all the questions.” He said, handing the forms back to Mr. Wadkins.

“Well, that’s out of the way. Do you need an advance on your pay now or can you wait until Monday when we usually give out checks?” Mr. Wadkins asked.

“Ah . . . I am kind of low on money,” Tommy Frank said and hanged his head slightly.

“Here, I just give you an advancement,” Mr. Wadkins said as he opened his wallet and pulled out three twenty-dollars bills.

Tommy Frank looked at the money. His eyes grew suddenly misty. He didn’t want to take the money. But the memory of sleeping in the swamp across from Monroe County Beach caused him to reach his trembling hand out for the money. “Thanks, Mr. Wadkins,” he mumbled and then cleared his throat. “Heck, you are being so nice to me . . .”

“Hey, I usually go out for a bite to eat before I go home, would you like to join me?” Mr. Wadkins butted in as he stood up. “Come along.”

Tommy Frank glanced down at his T-shirt and jeans. “I don’t know if I am dressed to go anywhere?” He answered sadly.

“Nonsense, T-shirts and jeans will get you into any establishment in Key West. How you act after you get inside is more important. I thought about going over to Louie’s Backyard they serve until midnight. Is that all right with you?”

“Ah . . . sure,” Tommy Frank said stunned that Mr. Wadkins would ask his approval. “I was never there. Where it is.”

“It’s not far. It is on a little side street next to the Reach. I believe the name of the street is Waddell,” Mr. Wadkins said walked out from behind his desk. “Oh, just a moment,” he added as he went back behind the desk and unlocked on of the desk draws. Tommy Frank watched as he counted out some money from a plain envelope. “Now, I am ready.”

Tommy Frank felt self conscious of the fact that he didn’t have much money and that Mr. Wadkins was evidently prepared to pay both their ways. He couldn’t remember anyone every spending money on him. His father had always bitched about having to give him lunch money while he was in school. He had to work cutting grass or other chores in the area to have any extra money. Ben hadn’t as much as bought him a hamburger at Mc Donalds. No one had ever treated him to a fancy restaurant.

“How do you like Key West so far, Tommy Frank?” Mr. Wadkins asked as they strolled side by side along Simonton Street.

“Ah . . . I like it although I really don’t know anyone here,” Tommy Frank answered as he moved even closer to his boss as turned down South Street. “I love the palm trees and the color of the water. Also I like knowing that it never freezes here in Key West. I have always wanted to live in a place where it doesn’t get cold,” Tommy Frank said carefully not wanting to say something that sounded dumb.

“Well, the locals think it gets plenty cold here in the winter. If the temperature of the water is below eighty, they will not go near it. I love the beaches in the winter in Key West. I like the water when it is a little cool.” Mr. Wadkins said as they turned onto South Street.

“Where are you from, Mr. Wadkins?” Tommy Frank asked.

“Humboldt, Iowa.”

“That’s where they grow potatoes, isn’t it?”

“No, corn, Idaho is famous for potatoes,” Mr. Wadkins answered. “But lots of people get the two states confused,” he added quickly when he saw Tommy Frank’s shoulders slump over slightly beside him.

How could I say something so dumb. “Yea, I get the two confused too,” Tommy Frank said lamely as he cursed himself silently. For the first time in his life he wished that he had paid more attention in geography class.

“I was right Louie’s is on Waddell Street,” Mr. Wadkins said pointing toward the street sign. “I wasn’t sure. I don’t ever notice the street signs anymore, haven’t for years.”

“How long have you lived here?” Tommy Frank asked.

“Moved here in sixty-nine. I was working for Harcourt, Brace and World publishing company in New York City and disagreed with the vice president and resigned. Came down here for a vacation and never left. Bought a little restaurant on Simonton Street and learned that I like cooking better than editing books. Been in the restaurant business ever since.”

“Wow. You must have gone to a good college to get a job with Harcourt. Harcourt published most of our books at my high school,” Tommy Frank said cheerfully. He smiled. “I . . . I always wanted to write a book myself?” He confided.

“What kind of book?”

“I started A Tarzan novel in the tenth grade” Tommy Frank replied. Damn here I go sounding dumb again. Mr. Wadkins isn’t interested in stupid Tarzan novels. “But never finished it.”

“Escape literature is sometimes great reading,” Mr. Wadkins surprised Tommy Frank by saying. “If you are interested in writing, you should try it again.”

“Yea, maybe I will.”

“They have some good writing courses at the junior college. You should look into going back to school,” Mr. Wadkins urged.

“Where did you go to school?”

“Grinell, in Iowa and then to the Harvard Business School,” came the soft answer.

Oh, shit, he must think I am a real dummy, Tommy Frank thought.

“Did you go to college, Tommy Frank?”

Gee, I love it when he says my name. He makes it sound like something special. “I only went to George C. Wallace Junior College for two quarters,” Tommy Frank admitted as though he was telling something terrible.

“You don’t have to go to college to become a writer. Just read a lot of books and learn from the authors. Writing is a an art like painting. You can teaching someone the techniques but not really how to write a good story. The author has to have something to say,” Mr. Wadkins told him as though he was a teacher speaking to an attentive student.

“Yea, I guess you are right. I guess I just have to start writing,” Tommy Frank agreed nodding his head.

“Well, here we are at Louie’s Backyard. I think you will like it,” Mr. Wadkins said as they climbed the steps to a fancy house the likes of which Tommy Frank had seen before in Key West but never expected to be invited inside.

“Good evening, Mr. Wadkins. How are you tonight?” Asked a middle-aged man dressed in dark coat and tie.

“Fine, Charles. Do you have a table out back?”

“For you, certainly, right this way,” the maitre d’ said as he glided gracefully across the room.

Tommy Frank couldn’t help noticing that most of the customers seated in the area around the grand piano dressed fancy. He felt so conspicuous in his T-shirt and jeans that he felt his face turning red. Luckily the patio area deserted except for a young man and woman sitting at the far corner..

“Here is a table with a nice view,” the maitre d’ said pulling out a chair from a table near the end of the patio.

Tommy Frank didn’t know what kind of view the maitre d’ was talking about until he got closer to the table. Then he saw the water lapping on a tiny beach under the illumination of several spot lights. Even thought the beach was no more than seven feet long, it looked spectacular.

Mr. Wadkins didn’t take the chair that the maitre d’ had pulled out. “Tommy Frank, why don’t you sit there so that you can get the best view,” he said gracefully.

“Thanks. Wow. It is so nice here. I just love looking at the water.”

“I enjoy the water view here at night,” Mr. Wadkins agreed. “It is so soothing after a hectic night at the restaurant.”

“This is really a great place Mr. Wadkins. Thanks a lot for bringing me here.”

“Please call me Walt.” Mr. Wadkins said and then turned to the maitre d’, “ Charles, I’ll take a perfect Rob Roy.”

“And what would your friend like, Sir,” the maitre d’ asked.

I can’t believe what I just heard. He said for me to call him Walt!

“Would you like something to drink,” Walt asked?

“Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. I was looking at the beach. I’ll take what you’re having Mr. . . . Walt,” Tommy Frank said as he looked across the table at Walt. Their eyes met. Tommy Frank stared intensely into the older man’s beautiful eyes. Please don’t get turned off by how dumb I am. Please like me!

“How do you like the youth hostel?” Walt asked after the maitre d’ left.

“It is so noisy. If it is anything at night like it is during the day, I don’t see how anyone gets any sleep.

“I sure that it is a really mixed group of people staying there.”

“Yea,” Tommy Frank answered. “Half then speak a foreign language. When they speak English I don’t even understand they sound so funny,” Tommy Frank said.

“Yes, European accents can be difficult to understand if you are not used to them,” Walt answered as he moved his head from side to side in time with the piano music floating lightly form the piano bar. “Ba, ba,” he sang in time with the beat.

A waiter, young, dark and good looking arrived with the drinks. “Good evening Mr. Wadkins.” he said placing Walk’s drink down first. Surprised to see you here on a week tonight.”

The waiter gave Tommy Frank his drink while looking at Mr. Wadkins the whole time.

Tommy Frank glanced at his drink. It looked like whisky with a twist of lemon floating in the glass to him. He waited until Walt lifted his glass before picking up his own.

“Well, cheers. I am glad that you came by looking for a job.,” Walt said as he touched his glass lightly to Tommy Frank’s.

“I don’t know what to say, Mr. . . . I mean Walt. No body has ever been as nice to me as you have. You . . . you are . . .”

“Would you like to order, now?” The waiter asked as he approached the table again.

“Yes, Jamie, and I think know what I’ll,” Walt said giving the handsome a bigger than normal smile.

“Our famous Louie’s Backyard baby back ribs?” The waiter asked but was already writing down the order.

“One of these days I am going to steal your recipe,” Walt joked in semi-serious tone.

“Mr. Wadkins, I don’t think I will ever see the day that you will steal anything for anybody,” the waiter answered.

“You know that I shouldn’t eat so much fat but no one makes barbecue like Louie’s,” Walt said to Tommy Frank.

“They sound good to me,” Tommy Frank said glancing up from the menu.

. “What would you like some more time, Sir?” The waiter said nodding his head toward Tommy Frank.

“No, I take the ribs too,” Tommy Frank answered. His mouth began to water thinking about barbecued ribs. “I haven’t made ribs at home for a long time,” he added looking over at Walt.

“Do you like to cook?” Walt asked.

“Anyone care for a salad,” the waiter asked.

“Not tonight, Jamie. I’ll have a hard enough time finishing the ribs,” Walt said cheerfully.

“No thanks,” Tommy Frank said. Why in the hell don’t you quit hovering around the table, he thought. “I not much for salads.”

“You said you made barbeque ribs at home. Do you like to cook?” Wale asked the question again.

“Sorry, I forget what we were talking about,” Tommy Frank said. “I always did a little cooking at home. My mother taught me how.”

“That’s nice,” Walk said lifting his glass again.

 “But I didn’t cock too often because it made my father mad. He always said it was something that only girls do,” Tommy Frank added.

“Your father sounds like some character,” Walt said as he held his glass as though to make a toast.

“Yea,” Tommy Frank said. If you only knew that whole story. “But he did like my ribs,” he added as he lifted his glass.

“What did you do up in Dothan,” Walt asked as he touched his glass light to Tommy Frank’s. Then he took a sip of his Perfect Rob Roy.

Seeing the older man drinking his drink, Tommy Frank He quickly took a big swallow. Big mistake! Tommy Frank suddenly found himself fighting to keep from throwing up. He had never tasted anything so terrible. It wasn’t whiskey it was scotch. Somehow he managed to keep the liquor down.

“Ummmm,” Tommy Frank cleared his throat. “I worked for my father. He has a big farm. I hate farm work. You are always getting dirty and sweaty.”

Jamie arrived with the ribs and made a big production out of serving them, at least it seemed so to Tommy Frank.

“If you need ANYTHING else just let me know, Mr. Wadkins,” the waiter said before finally leaving them alone again.

“They certainly smell good,” Walt said looking down at his plate. They really do a good presentation here. They are my main competition.”

Tommy Frank, afraid that he would do something incorrect, watched Mr. Wadkins and imitated his actions. The first taste of the ribs were disappointing. The sauce was nice but it needed honey and lots more pepper.

“Mmuuummm, they taste fantastic,” Walt exclaimed after a fork full.

“They are great,” Tommy Frank lied as he wiped barbecue sauce from his chin. “I do my ribs a little different, but these are really delicious.”

“I’m glad you like them,” Walt said and smiled.

Tommy Frank drank in the smile and flash one in return. He had to force himself to stop staring into Walt’s deep blue eyes. God, even though I don’t believe in you, please help me! Please make this man love me, Please, Tommy Frank sent a silent prayer and instantly felt stupid.

 He didn’t believe in God. He hadn’t since his father had taken him to see Oral Roberts and had him pray to restore the vision in Tommy Frank’s left eye. He had lost sight in his left eye after Jerry Strickland had shot him in the eye during a bb gun battle. He hadn’t told on Jerry. Tommy Frank had only told his father that he shot a telephone pole and the bb had bounced back and hit him in the eye. The lack of quick medical attention had caused the lost of vision, but Tommy Frank didn’t regret telling the lie. Jerry had been his best friend.

Tommy Frank had been nine when he met Oral Roberts. He remembered coming back from the tent meeting in which he had stood in a long line waiting for Oral Roberts to place his hand on his head and pray for him. When his turn came, Tommy Frank remembered how handsome the preacher had looked. He remembered that as Oral Roberts had moved up to him and ask, “Son, what is your problem?” he had pushed his hand toward the preacher’s crotch. He had touched the fabric of the preacher’s slacks and then pushed his hand farther until he touched soft forbidden flesh. In all the press of bodies, the preacher probably hadn’t noticed.

Tommy Frank would always recall the feeling he got when Oral Roberts had placed his hand on top of his head and said. “Lord, heal this young boy. HEAL HIM LORD!” It was as thought a current of electricity had flowed through his body. That night he had jacked his little cock off for the first time as he remembered the feel of Oral Robert’s soft man flesh.

 His vision had not been any better the next morning. From that day on he had known there was no God, but he didn’t tell anyone. Later in the seventh grade when he had learned about evolution, it only confirmed what he already knew.

“Would you like some desert?” Walt asked breaking into his flood of memories.

“No, thanks, I am full,” Tommy Frank answered. “Thanks again, Mr. Wadkins. It was really nice of you to invite me out to dinner. Ah . . . you are a really nice man,” Tommy Frank said as his eyes locked with the deep blue eyes of the man across the table from him.

“Well, why don’t we have Jamie call us a cab. I don’t know about you but I am ready to go home. It has been a long night and I am tired,” Walt said as he waved for the waiter.

Tommy Frank slumped over in his chair unconsciously, disappointed that the most wonderful night in his life would come to an end when Mr. Wadkins dropped him off at the youth hostel. I never knew that a man could be queer and so respectable, Tommy Frank thought as he remembered the glory holes at the Northside Mall.

He used to spend all day Saturday cruising the men’s toilet at the mall. Sometimes, he would have a good day and get to suck off a couple of old men, but usually all that visited the toilet were younger men and they never interested him. He had always felt cheap after sucking a man’s cock and having him rush out of the toilet afterwards as though Tommy Frank had suddenly grown horns. Sometimes they would mumble, “thanks” but what they really meant was “queer trash.”

Even worse had been the nights he had cruised older straight men in red neck bars until they got so drunk that they would go out to their car and pull out their cocks and let him suck them off. He had sucked so many beer/piss smelling cocks that he could get a hard on at the mere smell of beer.

Now, across the table sat a respectable man that was also gay. It was someone that he had thought that he would never meet.

“Your taxi is waiting?” Jamie said with slightly raised eyebrows as he approached their table. “And thank you Mr. Wadkins. I do hope to see you again and I hope the both of you have a nice evening.” He added as he picked up the check and several twenty-dollars bills.

“Good night, Jamie,” Walt replied. Then turning to Tommy Frank he asked, “Are you ready.”

Tommy Frank didn’t speak as he got up from the table.

“Those ribs are so rich. I swear after I eat them that I will never order them again. Then a week later I am craving them,” Walt said as they headed toward the piano bar. “Ba . . . ba,” he sang in time with the music.

Tommy Frank sighed as he followed behind Walt. Damn I don’t want to go back to that youth hostel, he thought they entered the piano bar.

“Walt!” The deep masculine voice cut through the music and the chatter of the piano bar.

Tommy Frank turned to see a short man of about thirty sitting at a table alone. Even from the distance, he could see the man’s rough angry red complexion. Yet, the man still had a handsomeness about him that even the bad complexion couldn’t completely destroy.

“Excuse me a second, Tommy Frank, while I say hello to Joe . . . an old friend of mine.” Walt said as he walked rather stiffly over to the table.

Joe! Mark had said something about Joe. Maybe that’s his love! Even as Tommy Frank thought it he knew it was true. He could see the tension pass between the two as Walt leaned over the table and spoke to the man in a low voice. Looks like I’ll have to walk home after all, Tommy Frank thought as he stood watching the two men locked in an intimately.

 Suddenly feeling self-conscious standing in the middle of the room, he moved over to the door. Then as the two men kept talking, Tommy Frank unable to stand the pain that watching them caused him, walked outside.

He breathed in the soft salty island air as he slowly descended the restaurant steps. He hadn’t thought about it, but he suddenly realized that he loved the island city. The mood of the people here was so different from what he was used to. He belonged here.

If only I hadn’t left home under such. How would he ever get someone like Mr. Wadkins . . . Walt to take him serious? He didn’t have money or even clothes. Even his parents didn’t want him. Tommy Frank shook his head, surely he wasn’t as stupid as the situation made him appear. He had always thought of himself as smart, but that notion was being sorely tested.

“Sorry, to keep you waiting.”

Tommy Frank turned and smiled when he was Walt hurrying down the steps. At least he is still going to give me a ride to the youth hostel. And I will see him at the restaurant tomorrow, Tommy Frank thought.

“I’ll tell you about Joe and myself in a moment. Let’s not keep the taxi driver waiting any longer,” Walt said as he took hold of Tommy Frank’s elbow and gave it a slight squeeze as he walked past. An electrical charge flashed through Tommy Frank just like it had when Oral Roberts had touched him in the healing line. Tommy Frank was practically walking on air as he followed Walt to the waiting taxi.

“Where will it be guys?” The driver asked in a cheerful British accent that had probably help him get bigger tips. “Home or to another night spot. Key West never sleeps if you know the right places to go,” he hinted.

“811 Olivia Street,” Walt said leaning forward.

“That’s over by the cemetery, isn’t it? Your a brave sole living by a cemetery,” the driver added seemingly wanting to start a conversation.

“Yes, driver,” Walt answered as he set back and turned toward Tommy Frank. “Joe and I lived together for ten years until last Spring when he found another friend, a rich doctor that bought the Curry House and asked Joe to manage it for him.”

“Does . . . does the doctor live in Key West,” Tommy Frank asked hopefully.

“No but he flies down to Key West every weekend from Miami. Tonight was the first time I have seen Joe out alone in a month. I will not talk to Joe when he is with his friend.”

“Oh,” Tommy Frank said.

“I can’t stand the guy. And it seems that his new friend and he are having their differences. Joe doesn’t like only seeing him on weekends.” Walt explained.

“Oh, I see,” Tommy Frank said but he didn’t see really. What is he trying to tell me? Is he interested in getting back with Joe? And why hadn’t he told the driver to drop him off at the youth hostel. Please, please let him invite me inside once we get to his house. Don’t let him send me on to the youth hostel in the cab, Tommy Frank wished.

“You’ll like my house. It is an old Conch house that I bought and remodeled when I first moved down to Key West.”

“What exactly is a Conch house?” Tommy Frank asked. “I have heard the termed used a lot but I don’t really know what it means.”

“Actually it is the local style of architecture. The houses are all build with Dade County pine. Mostly they are rather small. When I bought mine I didn’t have much money and property near the cemetery was cheap. I can afford to move now but I don’t want to.”

“But isn’t it rather creepy living next to the cemetery?” Tommy Frank asked.

“No, I like my house and the neighbors even though most of my friends think it’s tacky to be so near the cemetery.” Walt said as the taxi zipped through the narrow streets bordering the cemetery.

Tommy Frank tried to memorize the route but was lost soon after then turned off Simonton.

“Here we are gents,” the cab driver called out in his friendly British accent as he pulled in front of a nice white house. A motion detector must have activated the lights because a couple of spot light suddenly flared bright illuminating the beautifully landscaped if somewhat small yard.

“Here, Driver, keep the change,” Walt said, handing the driver some dills.

Tommy Frank felt awkward not offering to pay for his share of the cab, but he didn’t think Walt expected it of him. So he bit his tongue and kept silence.

“Thanks and you guys have a good even,” the driver called out as Mr. Wadkins got out.

Tommy Frank quickly slide over and follow the older man out of the cab. He isn’t sending me away! God, I owe you one. Damn, I can’t believe he likes me enough to bring me home.

“Now let’s see if I can find my key,” Walt said as he fumbled with key ring full of keys. “One of these days I am going to put it on a separate key ring so that I don’t have to search for it every night. . There it is.” He unlocked the door and pushed it open. “So come on in and make yourself at home, Tommy Frank.”

For Tommy Frank, it was like stepping an antique shop. Every where he looked he found himself looking at antiques. “Wow, it is beautiful,” Tommy Frank exclaimed as he mentally compared it with his parents’ old battered furniture that wasn’t good for anything but fire wood.

“Where did you find such nice pieces,” Tommy Frank asked as he glanced from antique to antique.

“It is mostly stuff from my mother and aunt.”

“Do you collect antiques?”

“No, but my mother and aunt did. They used to love driving to flea markets. I am not a collector but I just couldn’t bring myself to sell any of the pieces. I know how much they cherished them,” Walt said as he moved so close to Tommy Frank that Tommy Frank could feel his breath on his cheeks.

“I never saw so many antiques,” Tommy Frank said as he debated whether to try to kiss Mr. Wadkins or not.

“Do you want something to drink?” Walt asked.

Suddenly frightened that he was going to lose his chance. Tommy Frank leaned forward and kissed the older man squarely on the lips. The sensuous touching of their lips sprung forth desire in both of them. They reached for the other. As they hugged their kiss turned passionate, desperate. For the first time in his life Tommy Frank sensed someone else’s loneliness. How can he be lonely? He has everything, Tommy Frank thought as he returned passion for passion.

“I like you. Oh, man, do I like you.” Tommy Frank whispered while they embrace. He hugged the older man tight as though he feared he was going to suddenly lose him.

“And I like you, especially that big cock or yours,” Walt said as he reached down and touched the tip of his fingers lightly against the crotch of Tommy Frank’s jeans. He traced the outline of Tommy Frank’s massive cock and then begin massaging Tommy Frank’s crotch. “That’s the first thing I noticed about you,” he added pressing his hand hard against the growing bulge.

Walt took a deep breath and then pushed back breaking their embrace. “Now, how about that drink? I am going to have a scotch and water what will you have?.”

“I’ll have a scotch and water too,” Tommy Frank said after considering asking for a Budweiser but thinking it would only further prove that he was a red neck.

“Come along to the kitchen while I make drinks,” Walt said as he lead Tommy Frank down a narrow hallway.

Tommy Frank eyes sparkled at the sight of spectacular after spectacular pieces of furniture. However, his eyes sparkled even more when he looked at Walt’s back. He is like a dream come true. Damn, I am sure glad that I came to Key West.

The kitchen turned out to be small. Tommy Frank had expected something much more elaborate.

As Walt poured the scotch, Tommy Frank came up behind him and grabbed the older man from behind and hugged him. He planted a kiss on Walt’s neck before releasing him.

“Here we go,” Walt said breaking away from the embrace. He handed Tommy Frank a glass and then held his up to touch glasses.

“Cheers,” both said together and smiled at each other.

Tommy Frank took a little sip of the drink fearing that it would taste as bad as the Perfect Rob Roy had tasted. He was pleased to find it almost like drinking good cold ice water. Sure he could taste the scotch, but it wasn’t unpleasant.

“I might as well show you the rest of the house before I make you strip and show me that monster cock of yours,” Walt said as he lead Tommy Frank from the kitchen. After a quick tour of the den and TV room, they ended in the master bedroom with an antique four poster bed. “I don’t know about you but I am ready for action,” Walt said nonchalantly.

“Yea,” Tommy Frank answered as his heart began racing a mile an hour. God, I can’t wait to see him naked.

Walt placed his drink on the night stand and began to undress as he stared at Tommy Frank expectantly.

 Tommy Frank moved forward until he was only a couple of feet from Walt and began to undress with slow deliberately movements.

“Yes, stand close to me so that I can see that big bulge in your jeans. I have been dying to see what is between your legs all night. I even had a hard on during dinner thinking of your big cock,” Walt said in a strange low voice that reminded Tommy Frank of someone whispering secrets over the telephone. “Pull off your T-shirt first. I want to see your muscular chest,” Walt added in his whispering voice.

Tommy Frank skinned his T-shirt off over his head.

“Yes, what a body! Now stop and flex your muscles for me a little. Yes, that’s it! Beautiful, just beautiful,” Walk exclaimed as he hurriedly dropped his pants and then pulled his under wear down.

As Tommy Frank continued to pose as though he was a body builder, the older man reached down and took hold of his circumcised cock and began to wiggle it back and forth with one hand as he squeezed his large balls with his other hand. “Now show me your big cock,” Walt pleaded.

Tommy Frank kicked out of his sneakers and then unbuttoned his jeans and let them drop to the floor and almost in the same motion snatched down his jockey shorts. His huge, swollen cock popped up stiff and straight.

“My word! That’s one of the biggest cocks I have ever seen. It isn’t as long as Jesus’ cock but it is thicker,” Walt stood swinging his hard little cock back and forth as spoke in a strange voice as though the sight of Tommy Frank’s monster cock had thrown him into a sexual trance.

Completely naked now, Tommy Frank didn’t know what to do next. He was a little shaken that Walt had admitted to having sex with Jesus. But what do you expect? You think a good-looking man like him is going to sleep alone every night? Tommy Frank thought to himself as he watched Walt pounding away at his now hard cock.

Walt’s cock was short but fairly thick and nicely shaped.

“Masturbate.” Walt said making the words sound like soft moans of pleasure. “I want to watch you hand pump that monster cock of yours.”

Tommy Frank didn’t really need any urging to jack off. He was hot from watching the older man playing with himself. He began to slide his foreskin back and forth over the huge head of his swollen cock slowly. He like watching his own cockhead appear and then disappear as the foreskin covered it and then retracted.

“Do you like to fuck?” Walt asked. The obscene word seem so out of place coming from the gentle man that it shocked Tommy Frank.

“Yea,” Tommy Frank finally answered more because he knew that’s what Walt wanted him to say than for real desire.

“Will you open me up with that huge cock?”

“Yea, I ram it into you as deep as it will go,” Tommy Frank answered.

“Will you make me take it all even if you have to force it into me?” Walt said as he dropped to his knees and crawled forward on his all fours until Tommy Frank’s cockhead was practically touching his face. “Will you?”

Tommy Frank flinched as though he was somehow bothered by the scene, but he nodded his head and said, “Yes,” in a weak voice. Then in a more normal voice added, “I force you to take it. I’ll rape that beautiful asshole of yours.”

Spurred on by Tommy Frank’s words Walt attacked his long fat cock as thought it was something to be enjoyed quickly or it would disappear. Tommy Frank couldn’t believe how easily the older man swallowed his cock up to the fuzzy blond hair on his balls. No one had ever taken his cock so quickly down their throat. He has done this to a lot of big cocks, Tommy thought and felt something akin to despair sweep over him.

But the feeling vanished as he glanced down at the tanned body of the older man. This is what I want. I want someone that cares enough for me to do such things to me, Tommy Frank told himself as Walt moaned as he repeated pulled the huge cock out of his mouth only to swallow it quickly again.

“Now, I want you to fuck me!” Walt said as he stood up and spit some saliva on his fingers and reached behind himself and applied it to his own asshole.

“Yea, I’m ready,” Tommy Frank replied eagerly and it was true. He wanted to fuck Walt. I am going to make him mine, all mine.

 “I want you to use that huge cock on me with nothing but spit as grease,”Walt called out as he climbed onto the bed and lay on his back with his legs spread so wide that his asshole opened up. “Give it to me, Kid! Rape my tight ass pussy”

Tommy Frank looked into Walt’s deep blue eyes and got high off the desire he saw in them. In a frenzy of lust he hopped onto the bed and lifted Walt’s legs up to his shoulders. Then holding them high in the air with his body he directed his huge throbbing cock to Walt’s pulsing asshole.

He looked directly into Walt beautiful blue eyes as he pressed the head of his cock against the older man’s ass bud.

“Oh, it’s thicker than any cock I ever felt. Yes, open me up kid. Make me yours, make me all yours. I am your property. All your property,” Walt said in his sexy whispering voice.

“Your asshole is so hot,”Tommy Frank exclaimed, pushing his cockhead harder against Walt’s asshole. Hope I am doing this right. I don’t want him to know that I have never fucked a man before. He had tried once but the guy, an older farmer that live down the road from his parents, hadn’t been able to take his big cock. I wonder if Walt can take it, he thought as he pressed harder and harder on the swollen head of his long fat cock.

“Oh! Oh! Oh!,” Walt began to chant as Tommy Frank applied more and more pressure to his cockhead.

Slowly, Tommy Frank began to feel his cockhead slipping into the older man’s asshole. It felt great. He regretted that he hadn’t had a chance to fuck someone before. Then he remembered what Jesus had said about the two of them fucking some man’s brains out in the motel room. I wish I could remember that night. Sounds like it was a lot of fun, Tommy Frank thought, feeling his cockhead slide completely into Walt’s asshole.

“Yes, that’s it give it to me. Hurt me with that big cock. Make me your property. Make me all yours, make me lost!” Walt moaned in his whispering voice.

Tommy Frank pushed his cock farther into Walt’s fiery hot asshole. He moaned himself as his cock stretched open the older man’s asshole as he rammed it deeper and deeper into him.

“God, you are ripping me open. Oh me! Oh me!” Walt called out in a loud voice but he didn’t tell Tommy Frank to stop so he sent the rest of his cock into Walt’s hot asshole with one strong thrust.

“That’s it! You took it all!” Tommy Frank announced.

“Yes, I got a big long fat cock inside me. Now pump me full of cum, Kid. I want to feel your hot sperm squirting into my asshole. Jack me off as you fuck me! Make me cum at the same time that you empty your long cock into me,” Walt said.

Tommy Frank like the idea of jacking Walt’s cock as he fucked him. It wasn’t the easiest thing in the world to do but he did it. He began to hand pump the older man’s cock as he stroked his asshole with his long thick cock. Walt moan and grunted more than any man Tommy Frank had ever had sex with. The sounds turned Tommy Frank on more than what he already was. He began to fuck Walt’s asshole faster as he jerked his older man’s cut cock as fast as he could move his hand up and down.

“Never had it so good! Never, never, NEVER!” Walt called out.

His words caused Tommy Frank to past the point of no return. “I cuming! God, I am cuming!” Tommy Frank cried out as he moved his hand up and down Walt’s old cock as fast as it would move.

Suddenly white cum shot out from Walt’s cockhead striking Tommy Frank on the chest.

“Yes, I feel your hot semen!” Walt exclaimed. His rolled his eyes back in his head as cum continued to explode from his own cock. Another stream of cum flew against Tommy Frank’s chest and even as high as his chin.

Tommy Frank pumped Walt’s cock a few more times and let go and pulled his deflated member out of the older man’s hot asshole.

As Walt reached over and pulled a small towel from a draw in the night stand, Tommy Frank waited to be told to leave. He had once had sex with a man at the man’s house in Dothan. Almost immediately after both shot off, the man had said, “Thanks, I am sure that you will be wanting to go home, now.” It had been two o’clock at night and Tommy Frank had been ten miles from home without a car. Yet, the man hadn’t even offered to drive Tommy Frank home. Tommy Frank expected something like that to happen now.

Walt used the towel first to clean the cum off Tommy Frank and then to clean up his cock before using it on his ass. Tommy Frank watched as he older man cleaned his asshole without any sign of embarrassment. Then he tossed the dirty towel in a basket near the bed and lay down and patted the bed beside him indicating that Tommy Frank should also join him.

“Goodnight,” Walt called out when Tommy Frank moved into position beside him. Then he turned off the lamp.

“Goodnight, Walt,” Tommy Frank said as he cuddled up against the older man’s back. He reached his right arm across Walt body and hugged him as he pressed his face against Walt back. Tommy Frank kissed Walt lightly several times on the back. God, I love him.