Turning The Page

by Sam Elswit

  Suddenly, Thomas stopped. He stood stock-still, his eyes wide, looking positively horrified.

  "Wha...? What's wrong, babe? Are you gonna puke?" Alan chuckled, curling his finger under Thomas's chin.

  "No, no, nothing like that, but I'm supposed to be at work right now!" Thomas slapped his forehead. "I'm supposed to be at the Goldfish--"

  "Are you sure Stevie is gonna let you come back after that scene?" Alan said incredulously.

  "Yeah," Thomas snorted, "he'll let me come back as long as I want. He wants to fuck me so bad, and he likes to keep me around just in case I lose my mind one day and decide to actually let him. I would never, but the money for those gigs is real good and-- c'mon." Thomas grabbed Alan's hand. "You're coming with me."

  "I can't go back there!" Alan cried. "I broke a chair over the owner's back!"

  "He won't be there," Thomas said confidently. "He hates the crowds of college kids. I promise he won't be there. Just trust me baby. It'll be so much fuuun--"

  "All right," Alan sighed, hugging Thomas to his chest. "Fine, let's go."

  One very short cab ride brought them to Goldfish Bowl shortly thereafter. Thomas hurried in, dragging Alan behind him by the hand.

  "Oh, for fuck's sake," Thomas grumbled as they pushed through the crowded bar and saw that there was no one on stage, no one at the piano, no live entertainment at all! Some crappy pop music was being piped in over the PA.

  Thomas marched right up to the piano and sat down, letting his hands land with a clang.

  "Well well well, look who finally decided to grace us with his presence!" one of the waitresses called to him. "It's about damn time, Mozart!"

  "Hey, what can I say, you can't rush art!" Thomas called back, waving his hand dismissively. He cracked his knuckles and ran his fingers up and down the keys in a few warmup chords, then blanched. "Oh, shit."

  "What?"

  "I don't have my sheet music." Thomas buried his face in his hands."This is humiliating. Get here late, make a big scene, and then don't play anything?"

  "No, no, don't panic--" Alan said, rubbing Thomas's back soothingly. "Don't you have anything memorized?"

  "Look, I know I act all cocky and confident, babe, but--" Thomas sniffled, "the truth is, I have horrible stage fright!"

  "Aw, Thomas--"

  "I have dozens of songs committed to memory any other time of day, but when I take the seat up here, I forget every song ever. I can't even come up with titles. Alan, Alan, fuck--"

  "Don't panic, baby, please," Alan cooed, "that's fine. You can follow me?"

  "Huh?" Thomas was on the verge of hyperventilating. He looked up at Alan. "What d'you mean?"

  "I mean it's eighties night at the Goldfish Bowl," Alan said with a maniacal cackle. He cracked his own knuckles and pounded out some warmup chords, rolling his shoulders. "I learned lots of stuff by ear before I ever figured out how to read music. I bet I remember enough to get us through 'til last call--"

  "Oh my God, that's so fucking sexy," Thomas whispered, watching in awe as Alan launched into the opening chords of a cloying piano cover of Never Gonna Give You Up. At first, the crowd wasn't paying much attention, but within twenty seconds, almost every eye in the place was on the stage. Silence came over the crowd, then, someone started singing along. Then another, then another, soon the whole bar was laughing, dancing, singing along and clapping uproariously.

  Not a single classical or jazz standard was played that night. Until four in the morning, Alan and Thomas sat there, wringing sprightly covers of pop music from the shiny grand piano. The crowd was giddy with excitement as Alan bounced around from Take on Me to Beat It and even a little With or Without You and a clumsy but heartfelt Total Eclipse of the Heart. It was magical. It was electrifying. Soon Thomas lost all his stage fright and joined in, leading Alan into a set of more modern pop songs, which Alan improvised beautifully, all the old skills and tricks flooding his muscle memory. His fingers had a life of their own. Alan felt like he was just watching them from far away.

  By the end of the night, his face ached from smiling so much, but he could not stop smiling. The bartenders proclaimed this their most lucrative night in years, and begged Alan to come back next weekend, and he couldn't help but agree.

  "I've never felt so alive!" he cried, spinning around as they walked back to the apartment building. "God! Why did I wait all this time to start living!?"

  "Good question," Thomas said with a grin. "But I'm glad you decided to, anyway."

  "Same," Alan sighed.

  Thomas lived on the second floor, and Wendy on the fourth. Alan stopped with Thomas at the door to his apartment. Both men stood there in silence, trembling with longing and anticipation. Neither had the courage to speak (strangely enough, given their interlude on Wendy's kitchen floor just days before). Alan smiled and fidgeted. Thomas smiled and fumbled with his key which he dropped and both went to pick it up. Their hands touched. Alan pulled Thomas into his arms and kissed him fiercely, and as they were kissing, Thomas unlocked his door, opened it, and they fell inside.

  CHAPTER NINE

  As soon as the door clicked shut, every last shred of Alan's inhibition fell away.

  "I'm gonna fuck you so good," he growled at Thomas, pawing at the younger man's jacket. "You're not gonna know what hit you."

  "Ooh," Thomas gasped, arching his back and assisting only minimally as Alan tore his clothes off. He batted his lashes up at the older man. "I'm so small and innocent, don't be too rough with me, Daddy."

  "You can't fool me," Alan growled, roughly yanking Thomas's shirt up and over the younger man's head, so that his pale and bony torso was bare and ripe for the groping. Alan slid his hands over Thomas's slightly concave stomach, the slight protrusion of his ribs, the flatness of his pectorals punctuated by two bright pink nipples, the fragility of his collar bone, and finally, Alan's hands rested for a second at the base of Thomas's neck. Thomas's chest heaved and his member swelled as Alan's much larger, stronger hands met, and pressed ever so slightly against his windpipe. Thomas whimpered with longing, and Alan quickly pulled him in for a rough kiss, stripping off his own shirt between insistent thrusts of his tongue into Thomas's mouth.

  The feeling of Thomas's feather-light, shaking hands wandering over his torso made Alan's reptilian brain lit up like a bonfire. He snarled inarticulately and wrapped his arm around Thomas's tiny waist, forcing the boy to press against him, biting Thomas's neck.

  "Now everyone will know you belong to me," Alan murmured, licking the love bite he had left behind. He ran his tongue along Thomas's earlobe and whispered, "You like that, don't you, you little slut?"

  "Oh God yes," Thomas whispered, leaning his head back, exposing his neck to Alan. "I'm such a raunchy little skank, you have to mark me so I can't fuck anyone else-- oh!" Thomas exclaimed as Alan lifted him off his feet. He draped Thomas's skinny legs around his waist, and walked the young man over to the sofa. He gave Thomas's neck one last nibble, then threw the boy down on the couch, letting his tiny frame bounce, and Alan stripped off his own pants and boxers in one fluid motion.

  With his erect member dangling almost threateningly between his legs, he prowled over to Thomas and slowly but confidently removed the smaller man's jeans. He bent down and attacked Thomas's chest with a flurry of kisses and licks, lavishing his nipples with bites and suckling until Thomas was squirming and whimpering, bucking his hips up and whining, "Fuck me, Daddyyyy!"

  "You want me to fuck you?" Alan grabbed Thomas's member in his hand and gave it a squeeze, eliciting a tremulous moan from the tiny blond.

  "Y-y-yes--" Thomas whispered, shuddering as Alan tightened his hold ever so slightly.

  "Say it again," Alan growled, giving Thomas's member a little massage.

  "F-f-f.... Fuh-fuh-fuh-fuck me, Daddy!" Thomas wailed. "Please, Alan, I need your dick inside me now--"

  "I like hearing you beg," Alan said through a wicked grin. He gave his handful of Thomas's cock a playful shake. Thomas moaned, his hea
d thrashing from side to side. "You want to be fucked by this?" He slapped his own member against Thomas's lower belly.

  "Pleeeease," Thomas moaned, "I need it so bad, I've thought about you so much this week, all I want is your dick in my boy-pussy!"

  Alan's cock was twitching in response, thoroughly aroused and titillated by Thomas's writhing and moaning. He could feel himself dripping a little, and after all this buildup, Alan would feel so stupid if he came too fast. So he stalled some more, hoping to push Thomas closer to orgasm, so that they'd come together.

  "It's so hot when you beg me for my cock," Alan said, nuzzling his face against Thomas's heated cheek. "I can't wait to shove it into your tight little hole."

  "Please--" Thomas gasped, arching his back again, "unnnh!"

  That needy little moan was enough for Alan.

  Without another word, he let go of Thomas's member and flung the boy's skinny legs over his shoulders, lifting the boy's hips to expose his rosebud. It was already swollen and eager, waiting for him. Alan spit on his hand and lubricated himself, then, without any warning or foreplay, forced himself into Thomas's tight opening.

  Thomas bit back a scream of mingled ecstasy and pain, tears welling his eyes and a series of high, desperate moans escaping him as Alan started thrusting roughly inside of him. Thomas held on for dear life as Alan rocked his hips and plunged deeper inside of him with each thrust, until Thomas could feel the older man's sac brushing against his tailbone, which only made Thomas wail harder, and cum started leaking from his member and sliding down his belly.

  Seeing Thomas cum on himself sent Alan right over the edge. He held out for a few more brutal thrusts, making Thomas whine softly as his erection faded, then spilled his seed inside of the frail blond man, shaking all over as they collapsed together. He wrapped his arms around Thomas's waist and, without thinking, licked the semen off of his abdomen.

  "Did you really just do that?" Thomas breathed, his lashes low and his voice husky.

  "Which part?" Alan asked, grinning, clearly pleased with himself.

  "Licking the--... oh, never mind," Thomas laughed. "It was fucking hot."

  "Which part?" Alan asked again.

  "All of it," Thomas sighed dreamily. "That was so good. I've never been fucked like that in my life... Daddy."

  "Shit. I love it when you call me that," Alan grumbled. "I shouldn't like it 'cause I have a daughter, but I do."

  "Well I'm not your daughter, so it's fine," Thomas said with a tiny pout. "Don't be like that... Daddy."

  Alan winced. His dick was tender from the fast and rough session of lovemaking but it still twitched in response to Thomas's seductive voice. "You confuse me."

  "You confuse me, too," Thomas admitted. "I haven't dated anyone in ages, you know."

  "Really?" Alan lifted his head, resting his chin on Thomas's belly to look up at the younger man. "You're so sexy and beautiful and fun, babe, you could date anyone you wanted."

  "Well, I got hurt by an ex..." Thomas shrugged one shoulder. "It's a long story."

  "Tell me," Alan said, "we have time."

  "It's almost dawn--" Thomas laughed, but his words were cut off by a frantic pounding at his front door.

  Thomas sat bolt upright, startled, and the frantic pounding continued loudly. "Fuck," he grumbled, stumbling over his own feet as he tried to get his impractically tight pants back on. "I'm coming!" he cried as the hammering went on.

  "You already came," Alan snickered, stretching out languidly-- and nakedly-- on the sofa.

  Thomas opened the door and his face blanched upon seeing Wendy standing there, red-faced, shaking all over, her makeup smudged and her hair in disarray, tears streaming down her face. She'd been crying so hard for so long she had a glaze of snot on her nose and her eyes were swollen.

  Thomas panicked.

  "Wendy, what-- wha?"

  "I can't find my dad!" she bawled, burying her face in her hands. "I came home hours ago and I can't find him and we were supposed to watch Dexter and eat Chinese food and he's nowhere and he's not answering his phone and I've called everyone and looked everywhere and--"

  "Wendy!?" Without thinking, Alan leaped to his feet, his paternal brain triggered irresistibly by the sound of his precious baby girl weeping uncontrollably, crying for her Daddy. Her actual Daddy.

  Wendy choked and hiccuped, and lowered her hands from her face. Her jaw lowered and she was frozen in horror and shock upon seeing her naked dad in the living room of her crush's apartment. She stood there in numb shock. All was silent. All three held their breaths.

  "Wendy--" Alan said reproachfully, but she cut him off, her face screwed up in disgust and rage.

  "What the FUCK is wrong with you!?" she shrieked, stamping her foot so hard it shook the windows. "What-- the-- actual-- fuck--!"

  "Honey, please--" Alan stammered, scrambling for his pants, his face redder than it had ever been in his life, "Wendy, I-I--... I can explain--"

  "No wonder Mom threw you out! You fucking old perverted faggot!" Wendy hollered, her hands clenched into fists of rage as she railed at her father. "This is the most disgusting thing I've ever seen in my life, he's less than half your age, Dad! Fuck you! Fuck you both. Thomas, I thought you were my fucking friend!" She shoved Thomas's shoulder, then whirled and ran off down the hall, sobbing aloud some more.

  Thomas scrambled for his clothes as he heard Wendy retreating in the stairwell. Alan's eyes stung with tears as he got dressed, sick with guilt over what he'd done.

  "I never should've let you kiss me in the first place," he mumbled, dejectedly slipping into his tight pink tee shirt. "I look like such a fucking fool and now my only daughter will never talk to me again-- I knew something bad would happen if I ever came out--"

  "Shut up," Thomas snapped. "This is the worst time to feel sorry for yourself. You have to talk to Wendy."

  "I-I--... I don't... I don't know if I can," Alan stammered, biting his lip.

  "You can, and you will," Thomas said firmly. He grabbed Alan's hand and they marched up the stairs. "Let's go."

  They headed out into the stairwell and up to the top floor, assuming Wendy had gone home. Thomas knocked, and waited, and knocked, and waited. No answer. He huffed and knocked again.

  "Maybe she just needs some space--" Alan started to say, but the glare Thomas shot him was so cutting that the rest of the words died in his throat.

  They waited a while longer, then Alan tried the door knob. It was unlocked. He swung it open, then crept inside, carefully, sort of hunched over himself like a dog with its tail between its legs.

  "Wendy? Sweet pea? Please talk to me, honey..." He wandered through the apartment, skulking, poking his head in every room, but by the time Alan reached the bathroom, his heart was pounding. "She's not here, Thomas! Shit! Where do you think she went? I-- ugh." Alan's face contorted in pain and he clutched at his chest. "Not now..."

  "Alan, no!" Thomas cried, grabbing the bigger man's arm. "Oh my God, babe, are you okay?"

  "I'm--... I'm fine," Alan said through gritted teeth. "I'm fine. We have to go find Wendy. I'm fine. It's... p-passing." Just as he said passing, the pain returned full force, bringing him to sink to his knees, leaning against the wall with one hand. Thomas pawed at him helplessly.

  "I'll call an ambulance--"

  "NO!" Alan barked, grabbing the boy's arm. "I can't do that now, I have to find my daughter. I don't give a shit--"

  "Well you should!" Thomas cried. "You can apologize to Wendy later, after you've gotten some help! You shouldn't have left the hospital, I shouldn't have let you drink--"

  "You didn't let me do anything, I chose to, I'm a grown-ass man and--" Alan gasped and slumped against the wall, panting raggedly. "Fuck."

  "Wendy isn't gonna care about any of this, and you won't get a chance to talk to her if you're dead!" Thomas argued. He whipped his phone out of his pocket and dialed 911. "Hi, I need an ambulance."

  "No!" Alan grunted, but it was too late, and whatever was happenin
g to his heart had made him nearly delirious with pain, and stolen his voice, and made him feel as weak as a newborn kitten. He was still conscious and still breathing, but only barely. He closed his eyes and thunked his head against the wall as Thomas barked details to the emergency dispatch operator. "Wendy..."

  "Oh, Alan," Thomas sighed, hanging up the phone. "They'll be here soon."

  "Wendy?"

  "No, the paramedics-- you're not even making sense now."

  "No, life doesn't make sense," Alan grumbled, wincing as another wave of pain radiated from his chest and down his arm and up his neck. "I need to talk to her... I need to... talk... talk... Wendy..." Alan's body sagged against the wall, and he slumped to the floor, and the last thing he heard was Thomas crying his name.

  CHAPTER TEN

  "This is bullshit," Alan mumbled, rubbing his eyes as Thomas helped him sit up from the hospital bed. "I didn't even need to come."

  "Like hell you didn't!" Thomas countered angrily. "You passed out right in front of me."

  "My heart didn't stop, I would've been fine if we hadn't come."

  "Stop whining," Thomas grumbled, prodding him in the shoulder.

  "Here's your prescription. Why don't you try, oh, I don't know, actually taking it this time?" A surly nurse handed Alan a white paper bag. She had tended him just a day or so prior during his first heart attack episode. Alan flinched. "And no more drinking."

  "Yeah, I, uh... okay," he said, rubbing the back of his head. "Thanks."

  "Your dad's a real piece of work, you know that?" she said to Thomas.

  "Yeah, but he's my piece of work," Thomas cooed, hugging Alan's arm, not bothering to correct her. "Thank you for your help, miss."