Three Tales
For Your Enjoyment
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2011 Michael S. Wilson
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Table of Contents
The breeze blowing under a palm canopy did little to cool Gary’s heated disposition. His normally smooth features were flushed an angry red, his blonde hair unkempt. Marty had really pushed it this time, flirting with that cabana boy right in front of him. This was their anniversary trip – a special occasion. Not a time to be whoring around with the locals. Oh, Gary was going to suffer the consequences for this one. There could be no doubt.
“Gary – Hon. Please. I was just fooling around. Can’t a guy have a little fun?” Marty held up his hands in supplication, stretching his lean, 6 foot-tall physique upward. His mane of dark curls framed classic good looks, and came down halfway to his tanned, muscular shoulders. They were in a small private shelter outside of the hotel Boca Chica, on an exclusive strip of golden Acapulco beach. Stars and royalty frequented the area; they had seen Sinatra and his entourage just the other day. But these two could afford it – they were both trust fund boys. Even so, they did have to be a little discreet.
“Well, you might consider my feelings for once. And I wish you would keep the hand-waving toned down. We are out in public, you know,” said Gary, a bit shorter and heavier than Martin, with short, curly blonde hair.
“For what we are paying, I don’t give a damn, and neither should you. Now will you please forgive me this one indiscretion? Hell, I gave you that ring this morning!”
“Martin, let’s discuss this more in private. I don’t feel like arguing with you anymore. Hell, I need a drink.”
“Well, get it yourself. I’m going back to the room.”
“Try and behave yourself!”
Gary settled back down on his lounger, fuming, while Martin strode back to their shared room. The two thirty-something gay men had been travelling with each other for several years, enjoying the good life together.
On his way, Martin passed an attractive young guy wearing nothing but a towel. They looked at each other. Martin tried to smile, and said, “Maybe later. I’m in trouble now.”
He got back to the room, and once inside, locked the door and plopped down on the bed. Everything had been going so well. This was their anniversary trip, and Gary had bought him a ring. But his idea of a “loose” relationship was too hard for Gary to take at times. God knew, they both had to be discreet – morals charges in a foreign country, even Mexico, were not to be trifled with. Gary just had to realize what he was getting himself into, didn’t he? Even if it meant hurt feelings on occasion. But he was perfectly willing for Gary to do the same thing. Martin felt uncharacteristically tired today anyway. He felt his forehead, and it was burning hot. Time to take a nap. Martin soon dozed off, and had turbulent dreams.
Gary was sipping his drink with trembling hands. The ungrateful wretch was spoiling another trip. He thought for the umpteenth time of ending this friendship once and for all. But of course, it was much more than that. They had so much in common, it was uncanny.
Martin Sorenson’s parents had made a fortune in chemical stocks, and then had a tragic auto accident, leaving him a fortune. Gary Bricklast himself had a similar story, but his parents had built their own manufacturing concern, selling out to NCR. They held onto the stock, and bought more, selling at the perfect time. Gary would never have to apply for a job in his life.
The two met in a bar in Minneapolis. Each had suspected the other of being a con, out for their money. It was only when Martin had challenged him: “OK, Mary, you show me yours and I’ll show you mine!”
So Gary had fished out his wallet and showed Martin a wad of bills and travelers checks. It was a bold move, no question. When Martin had done the same, they both knew: neither was a fake or a con. From then on, they became nearly inseparable. If only Marty was not such a horny bastard! Gary decided it was time for a walk, so he got up and trundled off to the beach.
He was startled by some barking behind him. He turned and saw a big black Labrador, leaping and playing, followed by a fit-looking man with sunglasses on.
“Hey, sport – sorry about the dog.”
“I didn’t know they were allowed here,” retorted Gary.
“Allowed? I never knew there was a rule. But I do apologize for startling you. My name is Hansen,” said the man, extending his hand. Gary finally took it and shook.
“Um, sorry – it’s been a rough day today.”
“Unfortunate. A sharp guy like you, with all the women running around here – must be good territory. I’m assuming you are single?”
“Yes, I guess you could say that. How about you, Hansen?”
“Oh yeah, well, you know. Haven’t found the right one, you know.” Hansen looked down, then looked Gary up and down. He cracked a smile. Gary smiled back.
“A good looking man like yourself should not have much trouble there. At least I think so.”
Hansen got the hint. “Say, would you like to go somewhere more private and talk? My room is not too far away, if I may be so bold.”
Gary smiled. “You may. Please, lead the way, Hansen.”
The two headed back to Hansen’s room. Gary followed him in, and Hansen closed the door, locking it. They were on the same wavelength. Gary moved right up to Hansen, and said, “I really like what I see here…”
Hansen said, “I like this,” and groped Gary, upping the ante. Gary embraced Hansen, and planted a kiss on his lips.
Hansen kissed back, deeply. Then he began to stroke Gary’s chest, groin and thighs. Gary did likewise. They began to undo snaps and buttons.
“Sure glad I found you today…” mumbled Gary as they moved over to the bed.
“Oh, why is that? Because you were horny?”
“To prove I still have it.”
Hansen stopped what he was doing, and looked at Gary, now beside him on the bed.
“Do me a favor, hon. Stop talking? Please?”
“Hokay, I will.” Gary threw out his arms in mock surrender.
“Now that is more like it.”
Time passed, and the hot equatorial Sun moved across the sky.
After an hour of lovemaking, Gary finally took his leave. “As much as I dread it, I just have to get back. That so-and-so has all my stuff in the room, you know.”
“Okay. You know where I am. Toodles.”
“Where in the hell were you?” demanded Martin, face aflame.
“Now Martin, you of all people should be able to guess that,” said Gary, winking for effect.
“So you were out whoring around? With another guy?”
“As a matter of fact, yes, Martin. Two can play this game.”
“I can’t believe you would do this to me, after buying me that ring.” Tears began streaming down Martin’s face, and he sat heavily on the bed.
Gary sighed inwardly. Here we go. Martin just had to make this all about himself – again.
“So does this mean our friendship is over?” Martin sobbed.
“Do you want it to be over, Martin?”
“Well, no. Not really. We have too much in common. Don’t we?” Martin gave Gary that infuriating - and devastatingly effective - puppy-dog look.
“Yeah, I suppose we do. Neither one of us is like most of the street trash that hang out in the clubs. Us trust-fund pups need each other."
”As long as we don’t have to act like street trash, that is.” Martin had recovered his wit, as usual.
“What’s that supposed to mean?
“Think about it. Meantime, I’m hungry. Let’s go find someplace to eat, shall we?”
“Whatever you say, sweetums.”
“Don’t call me sweetums,” said Martin.
The two men sat down to a quiet dinner at an exclusive little spot in downtown Acapulco. Not much was said about what had transpired. They were equally guilty. What was there to say?
“That was delicious, Marty.”
“Yes, not bad I must admit. Say, let’s walk back to the hotel.”
“You sure? It’s been a long day.”
“Heck yes. It’s a gorgeous evening. We can walk off the meal.”
That settled it. The two settled their bill and tip, then ambled out of the place, and headed down a gradual incline towards the beach and hotel. They had not gone more than a block, when a man stepped out of the shadows.
“Look at the gringos. Fat and happy. But not for long. How do you say, this is a stickup?” The robber waved a large, ugly pistol at them.
Gary and Martin looked at each other, momentarily speechless. The man waved the pistol again. And Gary could not help himself.
“God, that thing looks as ugly as you do, mister!”
This caused Martin to burst out laughing, and Gary joined in. The would-be robber was perplexed, and flummoxed momentarily. Thinking quick, Gary pushed him hard, yelling, “Get out of here, you creep! We don’t want any!”
The man was off balance, and Gary was screaming, “Run, Marty!” But Marty needed no urging. They both sprinted down the street as fast as they could, expecting any minute to have a bullet hit them. But none did. Only the sound of vigorous cursing in Spanish and English. They ran and ran, reaching their hotel lobby before pausing to gasp for breath.
The solicitous man behind the hotel counter asked of the two, now laughing between gasps for air, if everything was alright, Senores.
Gary and Martin looked at each other.
“Alright? Alright! Couldn’t be better!” This set off another round of laughing.
“Please, Senores, we cannot have too much disturbance in the lobby like this.”
Gary, finally gaining control of himself, explained.
“You see, Sir, we stopped a robbery – with laughter. It was amazing.” Marty just nodded, trying to contain himself.
“Do you wish me to phone the policia?”
“No, no neccesita, Senor. Gracias. We will go to our room now. Muchas Gracias.”
“Buenas Noches then.”
Later, in their room, the two grinned at each other.
“We make on hell of a team, don’t we?” grinned Gary.
“Yeah, maybe we should do a comedy routine in Vegas.”
They settled in for the night. Marty decided to take a shower, and Invited Gary to join him. As They rinsed the sweat of the day off, they forgot about crime and jealousy. Other things had risen, and they lost themselves in the magic of the present.
It was now April, 1957, and the couple were soaking up some rays at La Manga Resort in the south of Spain.
“I loved those tunes they were playing last night,” said Marty drowsily.
“Yeah, me too. Bossa Nova and that new Rock stuff, with Bongoes and Maringes. What a gas.”
Marty leaned over and looked at Gary. “We’ll have to get out more often during these trips,”
“Oh, here we go. The poor child needs to be taken out more. Jeez, Hon, can’t you just relax once in a while?”
“Relaxing is boring. I need to get out and move. Besides, you admitted that you had a good time. That has to mean something.”
“It means nothing. Now leave me alone. I’m trying to read Breakfast at Tiffany’s and haven’t got past page 2.”
Marty reached over and groped Gary, massaging him.
“Will you please…”
“I always please,” Marty giggled.
Gary threw the book in an arc; it landed in the nearby swimming pool.
“Now look what you made me do. And there comes a worker bee.”
A dignified worker came over.
“Please, Senor, do not throw things into our swimming area…”
Gary glared at Marty, and murmured some apologies in his best broken Spanish. He managed to get the man settled down.
Marty just grinned, and said, “Well you didn’t have to throw a tantrum. I bet even Tiffany’s isn’t that bad
Later, in their suite facing the coast, Gary was staring out at the ocean.
“Beautiful as it is every year, despite your antics,” he said wistfully.
Marty came up behind him, and put his arms around him, brushing his neck with his lips.
“Mmmmm. You know, we haven’t been to Havana in a while. What say you we go there next month.”
“Well, we might have to if you keep acting up here.”
“Hey, I was not the one who threw Capote into the water!”
“Okay, but you made me do it,” said Gary, but he was smiling as he turned around and grabbed Martin, kissing him.