This is
a work of fiction. I love getting email
so if you would like to contact me you can at taarob@yahoo.com
or if you’d like to see some other things that I’ve
written you can go to my web site at http://www.mygaystories.com
.
The Good
Doctor
By Terry Audette
Chapter 18
“We can’t do this!!!!!!!”
“What? We’re
not doing anything. Besides nobodies gonna know!” He slid his hand down the back of my pants and was playing with my
butt. My libido was screaming YES
but my brain was screaming NO. I wanted
him in me, I wanted that feeling of possession of
belonging. I mean,
geez! Shouldn’t this be slowing down? It’s like we’re
having more sex all the time.
“Besides, I’m a doctor and I think that you really really need this.”
Yeah right……..like a prescription!
“Pete, that bitch Jane knows that we’re in here and there’s no
fucking way that she’s giving us time to fuck.”
Charlie seems to be paying big time attention
to Jane so maybe that’ll lead to her getting banged once in a while and she’ll
get off my case. Oh
god he’s kissing my neck! “Besides, why
are you so horny? We had sex this morning!”
He smiles at me and then kisses me again. “I don’t know, it’s crazy.” He nuzzles my neck and nibbles for a split
second on my ear. “I,” he rubs his eyes
and shakes his head slowly, “I think about you all the time. I think about you more than I did before,
before………..we were together…….crazy, it’s crazy.” The corners of his eyes get all crinkly and
are sexy as hell in a male outdoors kinda
way. Pete is tan and that really makes
his blue eyes pop while his blond hair is dropping down over his forehead. His voice is all rumbly
and makes me vibrate down to my toes.
Pete pulls his face away, smiles disappointedly and says. “It’s oooookay. I guess that I can always go and cure sick
people. I’ll go.” Go? Who the fuck said anything
about going?
“Oh! No……….I
mean………..don’t do that…………..I never got the chance to show you the
warehouse. I got a little office out
there too.” I kiss him. “No windows.”
-----------------------------
“Now listen to me!” She
grabs my arm.
“Mom, I am listening.” My
god the woman has got a grip like a vice!
“Eric, you’re not listening and I need someone to know this. When I’m dead
nobody’s gonna know how to make this sauce! You think that your father cares?”
“Mom, you’re not gonna die. Well, I mean, everyone dies but not for a
long long long time.”
She pointed her finger at me and wagged it back and forth. “The key is the stock. This is a true glaze. I didn’t just boil some beef bones for an
hour, this is an actual glaze and it’s the thing that gives the sauce its
life.” She actually thinks that I’m gonna make this?
“Twenty quarts of stock! That’s what you
start with. Start with! That’s just to
start! You boil that down, slowly,
lovingly to maybe a quart then even more slowly to two cups.” She puts her hands on her hips. “Eric, are you paying ANY attention at all?”
“Mom! I’m
listening to every word!” A lie. “I know that
this is important to you and it’s important to me too.” A lie. “I wanna be able to
pass this on to Jase.” A lie.
She gives me a doubtful look and then turns back to the stove. “Okay, the tomato is the dominant flavor but
you add one ladleful of the stock to the sauce. This big
ladle not the little ones.”
She goes on………….endlessly.
What DO I want to pass on to Jase? I want him to be honest, with himself and
with others. I want him to finish what
he starts, to understand that you can’t be a quitter. God, I want so much for him……..and
he’s gotta learn it from me. Shit! Like I’m up to that
job! Well……there’s
Pete too, he oughta be great at this…….and Jase actually listens to him.
Whack!!!
She’s banging her ladle on the counter. “Eric!! You’re not listening!”
“I heard it, Mom! Stock! You were
talking about stock!”
She leans against the counter her shoulders slumped forward and
stares at me over her glasses. “Five
minutes ago it was stock. For the last
two minutes it’s been meatballs. Will you concentrate??” She waves her hand at me and turns
disgustedly back to the counter.
“I use three kinds a meat in my meatballs, beef, veal and pork……….and they gotta be lean.”
Now this is heresy! “Mom,
since when do you believe in lean?”
“I don’t believe in lean……………necessarily. I do believe in healthy and there’s ways to make meatballs moist and still healthy. And…………as it happens
they taste better this way. The trick is
adding more of our stock to the ground meat.”
Beyond mom and positioned so that she can’t
see him in the family room is Jase. He’s sticking his
tongue out at me, and using his thumb and forefinger to make the loser
sign. Damn! I shoulda
never taught him that! I growl at him
with my eyes but he knows that I’m trapped and can’t
run after him. I make like a fake lunge
in his direction but he just laughs behind his hand. I try everything, my disappointed in him
look, my angry look, my I’m gonna
get you look, it all means nothing, he just laughs more. Little brat, I wonder if it’s
too late to sell him. No! I’m kidding! He’s my whole
fucking life, well a huge part of it anyway.
“Eric!” Mom is shaking her big spoon at me again. “Quit teasing Jason!” Me??? Fucking teasing him?? “You know………you’re
just like a little boy yourself, don’t you take anything seriously?” Oh God! Maybe she’ll jamb
that big spoon right into my head.
-----------------------------------
I scoop Jase up on the run, he wasn’t expecting it and he squeals. “So I’m a loser am I?” Mock
severity. He knows better than to
fall for this. His body is sooooo skinny and yet so vibrating with life. He twists and turns until he’s right side
up. His arms are around my neck and he
lets me hold him with perfect trust.
“I didn’t SAY that you were a loser, Dad.” Oh yeah! He’s all innocence
and endearing smiles now!
“Maybe you didn’t say it but that’s what you meant. You know, it’s
important to your grandmother that we be interested in this stuff. Understand?”
“You know how to make meatballs, Dad?”
“Meatballs? Ah…………..no. With your
grandma around I’ve never had to.” I
bury my nose in the crook of Jase’s neck and
inhale. Little kids always smell so
great, not sexy great or perfume great but puppy breath great. I carry Jase into
the living room and plop down on the sofa with him still in my arms.
“You know, at some point your grandma is gonna
get it that she’s not really making any inroads with me and at that point she’s
probably gonna drop me like a hot potato and turn her
attention to you.”
“Whadya mean, Dad?” Jase twists around
and straddles my waist. His knee crushes
my balls momentarily.
Geez I can understand that little girls might
not understand about crushing their father’s balls but it sure seems to me that
a little boy should understand it.
“Jaaaaaason! Son, don’t put you knee there.”
He ignores my pain. “Whadya mean when you say that about grandma, Dad?”
“Actually………………….I’m not sure.” Great! All fathers should be confused! I run my fingers through his hair and try to
get it into place. Funny, I don’t give a shit how I look but I do care how he
looks. “It’s just that at some point she
might figure she’s got a better chance of teaching you to cook and to generally
be perfect in every way.”
Jase puts his index finger into his mouth, chews
on it for a minute and glances around the room like
he’s trying to figure something out.
What’s he gonna do
with that wet finger? Oh right, his
dad’s shirt! Yuck! “But, Dad, I’m just little…………….I don’t know
how to cook.”
“That’s okay, Sweetheart, grandma will spend all the time that she
needs to spend making sure that you know everything that there is to know about
cooking…………..Italian cooking anyway.” No…………..she wouldn’t
do that. At least I don’t
think so. “Well, there may be a way
out.” I touch the tip of my finger to
his nose. “If she tries to teach you how
to cook ANYTHING, just tell her that you you’d be afraid that if you learned to
cook then you’d never get to see her anymore.”
I sighed. “That won’t stop her
but it might slow her down and make her think.”
He looked a little worried.
I kissed his forehead. “Don’t
worry. I won’t let anything bad
happen.” Yeah, right! Like I can stop all the shit in life that is gonna come down on his head one way
or another.
-----------------------------------------
“So you met his mom.” There
was more to Rose’s statement than just the statement.
“Yes, Rose and she’s very nice and noooo she doesn’t just work with crazy people.” I know exactly what this woman is thinking
and it’s never pretty.
“Sweetheart, I didn’t say anything about crazy people. Of course……..now
that you mention it……you are practically a member of the family and Irene has
gotta be enthused about having such an unusual specimen so handy. Maybe you’ll even
inspire a book or something. How’s about
“A Study of the Immature Male” that sounds like something you could make a
contribution to.” Damn this woman is a
bitch!
“Rose………..don’t you have some elderly sick
person that you wanna fire before they have a chance
to use that cheapass insurance that you supply to
your people?”
“Sweetheart, speaking of old sicko’s, and
please note the plural, how are Jane and Charlie
doing? Did I tell you that I saw them
splitting a happy meal when I stopped in to Micky D’s
for a cup of coffee?”
“No surprise, Rose! You can
practically smell the sex when they look at each other.” I would have called it disgusting but I was
not exactly totally in the clear on this subject myself.
“Well,” Rose said, “I probably shouldn’t make fun of them at least
they’re getting some which is more than I can say for myself.”
Gee, maybe being like a zillion years old is cramping her
style. “Rose, you oughta
try that new truck stop out on I94.
Sit on the hood of your car with a 12 pack of Miller Light and a big bag
of chips and ya just might pick yourself up a social life, especially if you go
in the evening when the light is low.” I
can be a bitch too.
------------------------------
Pete’s wet, I’m wet but Jase,
finally, is clean and dry. Jase’s bathroom is littered with
rubber animals for bath taking. We got
ducks, we got dinosaurs, we got boa constrictors, we
got dogs. I’m pulling his pajama bottoms
up and Pete is pulling his pajama top down and all the
while Jase is telling us about the little boy at his
daycare that puked in the wastebasket.
Jimmy, poor little guy, he’s probably the main
topic of conversation at thirty homes all over town. It’s weird and
certainly unfair but kids can be defined by incidents like that. The name Jimmy the Puker
could, cruelly, follow him for the rest of his life.
“Jase, I hope that you don’t call him
that.”
Jase puts his left foot on Pete’s bent knee while
he straightens the pajama feet. At the
same time he’s twisting his head around to talk to me.
“I wouldn’t do that, Dad.” He’s shaking his head.
“That wouldn’t be nice and besides I like him.” He leans back casually against Pete while I
brush his barely dry hair.
I look up and smile at Pete and say to Jase. “You look very
nice. You goin
to bed or……I look at my watch. You got like twenty minutes that you can
still watch television.”
He screams. “TV, Dad!” He pulls us both to the family room and gets
Pete and I to sit next each other while he climbs up
and sprawls over both of us. I glance at
Pete and notice that he’s got like this weird look on his face, like a really
emotional look but I can’t for the life of me figure out why. He sees me looking and I lift one eyebrow in
an unspoken question. He shakes his head
which either means that he doesn’t want to talk about it, it isn’t anything to
begin with, he doesn’t want to talk about it in front of Jase
or god only know what the fuck else.
Finally Jase skips off to
the safety of Alan’s big green paws and I turn to Pete.
“You okay?”