The Pool Boy Read online

  I spooned his body against my body. An S-shape on my bed, man against man. His breathing was soft and quiet. Tacoma stuck to me with ease, sweat-slicked and warm. His back was connected to my front as if we were intended to be together that way. I positioned my cock between his legs, nestling it there, and held my left arm over his chest. I cupped one of his firm pecs. Two fingers collapsed around one of his firm nipples. I breathed ever so lightly on the nape of his neck.

  Smoke filled the bedroom as he enjoyed his cigarette. I didn’t mind. Any other time I would have, but not that night with him. Romance makes a man do the craziest things.

  “Are you happy?”

  “Yes.”

  “What do you make of all this between us?”

  “Of what?”

  “Us. Summertime. The pool boy and the author.”

  “I don’t know. Am I supposed to make something of it…of us?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Like what?”

  “Guy with guy…sleeping together. You know what I mean.”

  He inhaled on his cigarette, exhaled. A plume of blue-gray smoke swirled within the bedroom and lifted to the ceiling. “I suppose I do.”

  “Tell me what you think of us.”

  He whispered, “I think your little escapade of watching me this summer has finally paid off.”

  I froze next to him, swallowed saliva in the back of my throat, and became wide-eyed. “What do you mean?”

  “Your cameras and spying. You have finally won me over. I’ve broken down. The game is over. You’ve gotten what you’ve wanted. You’ve won.”

  “The cameras? What do you mean by the cameras?” I asked. My voice cracked, nervous.

  “I know about your antics, Robert. You don’t have to hide your games anymore. I’ve always known about your cameras and your secret room next to your study.”

  “How do you know?”

  He puffed his cigarette again. Smoke lifted inside the bedroom, twisted and twirled. “Katz told me. He said you had photographs of us fucking.”

  “Katz?”

  “Yes. He told me how you were going to blackmail him with the pics.”

  “Did you know he had a boyfriend?”

  “Yes. It didn’t bother me. He’s been with Jonah for a while now. Jonah and I don’t really get along. We’ve been fighting over Katz for years now. He wins. I win. He wins. Whatever. It’s an ongoing thing among the three of us that ends up nowhere. I don’t know why I waste my time.”

  “I didn’t realize that, Tacoma.”

  “Katz always has more than one boyfriend. He’s like Rose. Not that any of that matters now. Whatever.” He took another puff on his cigarette, exhaled. “For the record, here and now, is it true that you have cameras all over the house, Robert?”

  I was quiet for a second, two seconds, gulped more saliva down the back of my throat, felt nervous, like a worm, a foe, a piece of shit, and wondered if he was going to become pissed at me to learn the truth. “Yes. Everywhere. Over two dozen.”

  “I figured as much,” he said, motionless in front of me. “For the record, I would probably have cameras on my estate if I owned one.”

  “You’re not angry at me?” I whispered.

  “At first I was, when Katz told me, but then I thought why should I be? It’s your property. You make the rules. The more I thought about it, I became flattered by the idea if you really want to know the truth. Watching me, admiring me, and taking pictures of me. You’ve really fallen for me, Robert. All of me.”

  I didn’t answer him, just listened.

  He stubbed out his cigarette and placed the ashtray on the floor by the bed. Then he turned over and faced me, drew a hand down and along my left cheek, “I mean, think about it. How many guys will spend their entire summer watching a pool boy swim, bathe, walk, eat…everything? You’ve had a hard dick for me for over two months. You’ve watched my every move most of the summer. You’ve fallen in love with me, Robert. It’s been a game to you. I’ve been your plaything. You can’t say I haven’t.”

  Again, I said nothing. Stayed motionless next to him. Listened.

  “I must say I was a little surprised to learn that you had a camera in my bedroom, and my private bathroom. That was a bit ballsy. But whatever. If that’s what turned you on, so be it. I didn’t care. Soap in the shower. Pissing. Every guy has their sexual vices.”

  Silence on my part. Nothing. I continued to listen to him.

  “But I thought about it after your argument with Katz. I was flattered by you spying on me. I loved the idea that you watched me all summer long. Into me. Adoring me. Falling for me day after day after day.”

  “Why?” I whispered.

  “Because you care about me, Robert.”

  “I do care about you.”

  “And maybe. Just maybe I’ve been watching you this summer, too. Did you ever think about that?”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you. I do have a thing for older men. My own sexual vice. A daddy complex, I guess you could say.”

  “That’s not possible. You weren’t watching me,” I responded, felt his fingertips against my lips, then my chin and neck. He pinched one of my nipples.

  “Anything’s possible when you put your mind to it, Robert. Anything at all. Didn’t you tell me that once this summer?”

  “I did.”

  “Then believe me. I’ve been watching you all summer, too.”

  I tried to smile, but didn’t. “I’m too old for you, pool boy. You’re playing with me.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not, though,” he answered, dragged his lips over mine, parted them, slipped his tongue inside, and kissed me hard, and then harder. When he stopped, he pulled away and said, “But I’m not playing with you. I like you, Robert. I like that you’re older than me. And I don’t care about the cameras everywhere. I don’t give a shit about your spying and watching me, even when I take a piss. I’m just glad that you’ve fallen for me, and that you care for me. Sometimes that’s all a guy needs. Honestly, that’s all a guy ever needs. And that’s what you’ve given me, which has made me happy. Truly happy. So thanks for that this summer. I’ve never felt that way before. Never.”

  Chapter 69: We Were Together

  For the next few days we spent every breathing moment together: swimming, dining, exercising, reading, walking, and talking. We digested each other like cannibals or boyfriends or life-companions. Tacoma made me the happiest man in the world. We bicycled, hiked, and even rowed together on the lake. We sunbathed by the pool. We captured fireflies together in Mason jars during the evening hours and made wishes with every catch, setting the insects free only moments later. We showered together after making love. And for the next few days, at the end of that heated and humid and sticky and relentless August, I fell in love again and again with Kent Tacoma. Everything I had dreamed, lusted after, breathed and desired, had come true with him.

  Tacoma was mine. Finally. We were together.

  Chapter 70: This Seems Right

  There was something I had to do, for my sake only. I found the tiny door that led into the secret Hardy Boys room with the hidden monitors, computer, desk, and single seat. Once inside, I sat down and made myself comfortable, fired up the computer and answered its key questions:

  Password: nipple-ring72

  View Camera Number: 21

  Spare Bedroom 1—Second Floor: yes

  Second Password: the-pool boy72

  Confirm: yes

  Zoom In: yes

  Percentage: 70

  Mouse Accessible: yes

  I observed Tacoma as he pulled his swimsuit up and around his narrow waist, tugging it against his hips and ball sack. He readjusted his cock, grabbed his swimming towel, and exited the room, headed for the pool.

  I leaned forward and moved fingers to the control unit hanging on the wall underneath the desk, flipped the red power switch to off. A blip! and beep! Then the room flashed with silver-white light, like reflections on the pool from the hot sun,
like a lightning storm, or Fourth of July fireworks. Standing now in front of the monitoring screens, motionless, the monitors had all gone black, completely off.

  Studying the screens, I whispered to myself, “This seems right, Robert, for the very first time.”

  I turned and slipped out of the secret room, and headed towards the pool to be with Tacoma and the sun before he had to sadly leave.

  Chapter 71: Blind

  August something. I can’t remember the day or date. I fell asleep in the sun next to Tacoma, singeing my skin. We were holding hands, talking. I can’t remember closing my eyes and drifting off and into a mid-afternoon dream:

  We swim underneath the blue-blue water, diving together, spinning in circles and twirls. The water is icy cold, nipple-freezing cold, and I presume we are somewhere close to the Northern Atlantic, near Greenland maybe. I hold the pool boy’s hand within my own, swim and dive, careen through the chilly water. There are vast, sunken ships in the water beneath us, broken into large pieces. Icy chunks float around us languidly. Lying at the sandy bottom of the ocean, around the ships, I see bent monocles and shattered hourglasses, broken mirrors and crumpled lanterns in the blue-silver light of the afternoon. At one point I turn my head and see a sad Tacoma next to me.

  He hears me think: What is this, Tacoma?

  He answers within my mind: Debris.

  It’s over between us, isn’t it? Everything is temporary. Isn’t it? The end has finally come.

  Yes, he says in my mind, pulls away from my hand and swims to the surface, leaving me alone in the depths of the cold, Northern Atlantic waters, to swim on my own, to find safety again, someplace deep in the water among the shipwrecks and…

  When I woke from the dream I had some sunburn on my face and chest and legs; a light sting. Tacoma was not anywhere to be found around me, had left me in the August heat to burn. I looked to my left and right for him, but he was nowhere to be found. Then I looked into the sun, wishing to blind myself.

  Half of me had had hoped to see him there like the ball of fire in the sky, like Icarus, but he wasn’t. My view turned to the pool. Maybe he was underwater, swimming. I didn’t see him, though. Instead, I saw circles of red, yellow, and orange floating about my vision, believing I was blind. Lost. Confused. Without the pool boy at my side.

  Debris.

  It was over between us.

  The end had finally come.

  Chapter 72: Shivering

  August 28. Post-midnight, when the moon became sleepy, out of touch, alone. I was tucked into bed with Tacoma. He was tangled in my arms. Both of us were naked. I stared into the vast, dark and empty blankness, felt his chest slowly rise and fall under my touch: his smooth pecs, pointed nipples, navel, and broad shoulders. Still mine for the moment.

  I wanted to listen to the darkness, but he said, “I have to leave.”

  “Yes, I know. It has to be. I’ve come to learn that lovers never stay together for very long.”

  “Classes start the second week of September.”

  “Yes. You’ve told me this a few times. I’m not hard of hearing yet. I’m only thirty-six.”

  “You expected this, didn’t you, Robert? Our parting. Me going away. The end of summertime.”

  “Yes. But I didn’t think it would sting as much. I honestly told myself it wouldn’t. Unfortunately it does.”

  I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t cry, held him against my naked body, and wondered if he could feel me shivering in the room’s unstoppable and declining coldness, even though the room was close to eighty-nine degrees.

  I believed he could.

  Chapter 73: Packing

  Tears collected in my eyes as Tacoma packed his bags. I tried to convince myself to speak with him about staying, that he could live with me for as long as he liked, or wanted, or needed to, but to no avail, something within my mind said: Let him go, Robert. He has to live his own life. You can’t trap him here in West End. He’s too young for you. He has the rest of his life ahead of him. College and education call for him. Let him go.

  He packed socks, Boxer Joe’s, jeans, shorts, and sandals. He stuffed everything into his Navy satchel. He pushed cigarette packs into his bag, two lighters, suntan lotion, a toothbrush, sticks of deodorant, paperbacks, and other items that he would need in California at UCLA. At one point on that rainy afternoon in late August, with bursts of thunder and lightning in the distance, with a wind that twirled over the lake and created harmless spigots, when the humidity was thick and heavy, and when my clothes felt as if they were sticking to me like an extra skin, I asked, “Can I help you pack?”

  “Yes,” he said in a somber tone. “I’d like that.”

  So I stood beside him and breathed him in for a single moment, relishing his summer perspiration of boy mixed with man. He smelled of freshly eaten melons and raspberry ice cream, an intoxicating and smooth aroma that I found enjoyable. I reached down to the bed and into a pile of his unfolded clothes, picked up the swimsuit he wore most of the summer. I held the tiny piece of navy material in both hands, kept still and silent, couldn’t breathe or move. I became a statue, like David or St. Sebastian. Motionless in time and space.

  “You can keep that if you want, Robert.”

  “I couldn’t.” I began to fold the swimsuit into three portions, overlapping sides into its middle.

  “Really, I mean it. There’s very little I could ever give you. It seems appropriate for you to keep it.”

  “Because?” I asked, kept hold of the now bunched up swimsuit in one hand, pressing the nylon Speedo into my right fist.

  “I was the pool boy after all. Your pool boy,” he whispered. “Please, keep it.”

  I smiled, kissed his cheek, drew two available fingers across his lips, and felt tears sting the corners of my eyes. “You will always be the pool boy, Tacoma. I don’t think anyone will ever replace you.”

  “And you need a souvenir of this summer. Take the swimsuit. It is yours. For keeps.” He pushed the remaining clothes inside his satchel and pulled its strings and clasp and buckle closed, carried it out and into the hallway, and then down the stairs to the foyer.

  I followed him down the stairwell where I had fired the Colt .45 at Rose Dublin and almost killed her. “When is your cab coming?”

  “Not very long. In a few minutes.”

  “Do you need anything? Water for the ride? Something to read on the plane? A snack to eat on your travels? Anything?”

  “No. Nothing. Thank you, though.”

  “There has to be something, Tacoma.”

  He moved down the stairs, one by one, slowly. Wind and rain started to beat against the lakeside house. The storm grew louder, angry. “Nothing. I’m really not high maintenance. You’ve learned that.”

  So true. He was so easy going. Honestly, he only needed a pool and the sun and lotion for his skin so he wouldn’t burn. And summertime. That’s all he needed. “How sensible, I guess,” I told him.

  “I guess,” he replied, and we waited together for his cab to arrive in the foyer, near the front door, face to face.

  Quiet now.

  Chapter 74: Rain

  Cool rain blew in through the opened screen door in the foyer and decorated the marble floor. A chilly wind brushed against my arms and legs. The terrible day offered dullness and lacked sunshine. Tacoma stood and faced me, waiting for his cab. He thumbed his cell phone, checking where his cab was, and eventually tucked it away. “My ride is almost here.”

  His swimsuit was snug in my left back pocket, balled there. I pulled an envelope out of my right pocket and passed it to him. “I think you’ll need this. It’s not much, but it’ll assist.”

  The envelope was filled with many hundreds and fifties, over four thousand dollars. He opened it, quickly thumbed the money, and shook his head. “I can’t take this.”

  “You have to. California is very expensive. Besides, it’s your pay for this summer.”

  “It’s too much. I won’t take it.” He tried to give me
the wad of cash back.

  I refused to take the envelope. “Never, Tacoma. You earned that money. All of it. I intend on sending you more later when you write. Snail mail, of course. I hate email.”

  He smiled, leaned into me, and kissed my cheek, my lips, and my neck. I became woozy. “You’re an old fool.”

  “Yes, you could say that. A thirty-six-year-old fool who likes you.”

  “You’ve been too kind to me all summer long, Robert.”

  “It doesn’t matter about my kindness. I want you to be safe in the months to come in California. Someone has to look out for you. The money will help you.” I couldn’t help myself, leaned into his muscled body and hugged him, held him close, and breathed him in; he still smelled of the pool’s chlorine.

  Again, he kissed me, this time on one cheek, and then my other cheek, just as Rose had often done.

  “Dammit,” I whispered, pulled away, stung by his lips.

  He was surprised, asked, “What is it?”

  “I forgot something. Just a second. Hold on. I know your cab is coming, but I left something for you in my study. I won’t be a minute.” I spun around and bolted to my study. Once there, I picked up a wrapped box the size of a laptop computer from my desk. The gift was thin and decorated in navy paper and a light blue bow the color of the summer sky on an afternoon day. I dashed back to the foyer where Tacoma stood and presented the gift to him, somewhat out of breath. “Here you go. It’s something to remind you of this summer.”

  He slipped the envelope of money into one of his back pockets and took the somewhat heavy (less than three pounds) box, and commented on how nicely it was wrapped. “You shouldn’t have done this. The cash is more than enough.”

  “Of course I should have. Don’t be ridiculous. Open the gift.”

  He removed the navy paper and bow, and found a black box inside. He pulled the smaller, paper box out and opened it, peeled away the white tissue paper inside. I watched him remove a brown, leather bound book inside by Danielle Silver. He picked the book out and flipped through its gold-gilded pages with a smile on his face.