CHAPTER 3
One load flew right past Bobby’s face. But Bobby wasn’t finished. He kept his dick in, kept working Mitch, harder, harder, harder.
‘Stop. Please stop. Ohhh, please stop.’
Bobby pulled out and pulled off the rubber and grabbed his dick and at the same time did an internal hold-back technique, making his come re- circulate within him, creating the intense internal vibration that took him to a total ecstasy that lasted and lasted and lasted…
Some time later, as he came down from his passion, he was aware of Mitch struggling to get the rope off. The knots couldn’t be untied by just anyone. You had to know what you were doing. Bobby knelt down and very gently freed Mitch’s cock and balls, then the knot holding the rope around his neck.
They lay next to each other, each lost in their after time. After a while, Mitch said, ‘Got a beer?’ Like it had just been some kind of routine sex. Hadn’t he made any impression on this guy?
Bobby whirled on Mitch, pushing him down and sitting on his chest, jamming his knees into him so hard Mitch could hardly breathe. ‘Were you scared of me?’ said Bobby.
Mitch, completely stunned by this, said nothing.
‘Were you?’ said Bobby. ‘Were you?’ The rage was building in him. He bent toward Mitch’s face, thinking of terrible things he could do to this guy, really painful, crippling things. Finally, Mitch said, ‘Yeah, man. You scared me. You’re scaring me now.’
‘OK,’ said Bobby, after a beat, ‘OK.’ The rage was ebbing away. ‘Come on. Let’s get that beer. You want a shower?’
‘Sure,’ said Mitch. He seemed a little wary. What would Bobby do next? ‘It’s all right now,’ said Bobby. ‘Come on.’
Later, after their showers, as they were drinking their beers, Bobby asked Mitch if he was OK.
‘That was intense,’ said Mitch. ‘No one ever handled me like that before.’ ‘You like it?’ asked Bobby.
‘I dunno. Kinda rough. Yeah, I guess. How come you got so crazy?’
Bobby just shrugged, but he knew it was a good question. What was he so mad about? Mitch hadn’t done anything wrong. What did he want from these guys?
Bobby and Mitch became regular fuck buddies after, but they never had a scene quite like their first because Bobby was afraid he might go too far out of control and into a kind of frenzy. He had to control himself, he had to make this anger of his go away. Then something very special happened to Bobby Lo.
It was a Sunday morning. Bobby was lying alone in bed, thinking about Mitch, about that chest, those legs, that hard white ass. His dick was hard. But he had agreed to help his sister by driving his nephew Laurence downtown, to Union Station, to an exhibit they were having, something about Los Angeles’ Old Chinatown. Laurence was doing a report on it for school.
On the way there, Laurence explained that the Chinese used to live where Union Station was now. Back in 1939, to clear the site for the station, Chinatown was torn down and moved up the hill. Nearly 50 years later, during the excavations for the new subway, the workers had dug up remnants of the original Chinatown. That’s what the exhibit was about. ‘How come your whole class isn’t going?’ asked Bobby.
‘It’s for extra credit.’
‘Wouldn’t you like be at the beach on a beautiful day like this? I could take us there.’
Laurence laughed and said no. He knew his Uncle Bobby was only teasing … well, half-teasing.
Then Bobby asked, ‘Why do you need extra credit? You’re an A student. Did you get in trouble or something?’
‘No!’ said Laurence. ‘I want to do this. It’s my heritage project. I like history.’ Then he gave Bobby directions. ‘Turn off at Alameda Street.’
‘Yes, Master.’
Laurence was a fat kid with glasses. Sometimes Bobby wished he could do something for him, get him in shape, but he had to admit that Laurence didn’t seem to mind being who he was.
It was cool in the long, high-ceilinged waiting room of the station. Display cases and panels had been set up here and Laurence set off on a systematic examination of everything, taking notes and photos. Bobby bought a lemonade, drank it, idled, looked outside at the courtyard, then began looking at the exhibits: bowls; packets of herbs; fragments of patterned cloth; a collection of bone hair pins. Some of these things were very old and Bobby understood they deserved respect, but they meant nothing to him. One panel depicted an anti-Chinese riot back in the 1890s with drawings of white men carrying torches and clubs and pistols, burning the place to the ground, terrifying the people. Bobby’s blood boiled, his body tightened. He hated it when people were helpless. But this had happened a long time ago.
And here were photographs from a later period … a few from the early 1900s, more from the 1920s and 30s. Nothing dramatic. The shops, the shacks, the mostly mud streets … a few old cars and trucks … and the people. The people drew him in. Immigrants and the children of immigrants, many descended from the Chinese brought here to build the first railroads long, long ago.
There were formal portraits and snapshots of street life. Old people, small, with taut drawn skin … broad shouldered men unloading a cart … a professional man, perhaps a teacher or a doctor, impeccably dressed with a starched collar and the pomaded hair of the 20s … a mother posing proudly with her children, one bold, the other shy. And all of them long gone. Well, some of the children might still be around, very old people themselves by now. It was another world. Bobby didn’t feel tied to it or them in any way. He shook the very thought away.
Laurence, finally finished, came over and stood by Bobby. But when Bobby turned and looked at him, Laurence stepped back in shock.
‘What is it?’ demanded Bobby. ‘What are you staring at?’
‘Uncle,’ said Laurence, peering up at him, ‘Uncle, you’re crying.’
When Bobby got home that night, after dinner with his sister, Mitch called and asked about coming over.
Bobby really didn’t feel like doing anything, but Mitch said he was in the neighbourhood, so Bobby let him come. The big guy hadn’t been in the house for more than a minute before he was rubbing his hands over Bobby’s chest, working his nipples. Bobby pulled away.
‘What’s a matter?’ asked Mitch. ‘You OK, bud?’
‘Yeah, I’m OK. You want something to drink?’ He headed for the kitchen. Mitch ambled after him.
‘I’ll take a Coke or something.’
‘I don’t have Coke,’ said Bobby. ‘How long have you been coming here, Mitch? Have I ever had Coke?’
‘Whatever,’ said Mitch.
‘I got some beers here.’
‘Nah,’ said Mitch. ‘What’s up with you? Bummer day?’
‘No,’ said Bobby, ‘it was a good day.’ He tried to tell Mitch a little about the exhibit. The big guy really wasn’t interested.
Bobby asked him what he’d done with his day.
‘Washed the car, then beached it. Cruised around. Nothing. Wanna mess around?’
‘I can smell the ocean on you,’ said Bobby.
‘I showered.’
‘You just rinsed. No soap. I like it.’
He wished Mitch would leave. He needed to think. Something had happened to him today and he didn’t know what it was. Despite himself, though, his cock was getting hard. He couldn’t help it. He had a lot of animal in him, he supposed. Maybe he just wasn’t a very evolved person. Still in one of his earliest human lifetimes. Maybe he’d be punished next time, maybe he’d be reborn as a pig or a goat.
‘You wanna fuck or what?’ said Mitch.
‘My body does.’
‘Your body is you.’
‘No, it’s not,’ said Bobby. ‘No, it’s not.’ He pushed Mitch away. ‘I don’t want to be just a fucking animal.’ Suddenly he was afraid, really afraid that he would become an animal. He would stop being a person. Maybe he wasn’t a person now, just an animal in a person’s body.
Mitch had no idea what was going on. ‘You want to just hang out or what?’ ‘I gotta go,’ said Bobby.
He got in the car without a plan, but with the first turn he made he was headed downtown, back to Union Station, and soon he found himself studying the panels displaying the old photographs of the people who had once lived here. He felt he could stare at them for the rest of his life, he was totally absorbed … until a voice next to him said, ‘We have family all around us.’
There was a man standing right next to him. Usually no one could get near Bobby without his being aware of it. The man was Asian, probably Chinese. There was grey in his hair and some lines in his face, but his body seemed that of a young man, supple and strong. His smile was kindly.
‘What?’ said Bobby.
‘Our family is all around us, always. The living and those who have passed on. Do you believe that?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Bobby. ‘Maybe.’
‘Why have you come back here?’ asked the man.
‘How do you know I was here before? I didn’t see you.’
‘Would you take a walk with me?’ said the man.
‘All right,’ said Bobby. He wondered what this guy wanted. He didn’t think this was a come-on.
They walked out of the Station and up a slope Bobby hadn’t noticed before. And where was the parking lot? It should be just over there, to the left. A mist was closing in, unusual for this time of year. They went further. Shouldn’t they have come to the old Post Office building by now and the train yards? But there was only grass and brush and a few trees. ‘Something’s going on,’ said Bobby.
The man smiled. ‘Something’s always going on. We just don’t always see it.’
In the distance, there was a small fire and the outline of some shacks. Suddenly Bobby was frightened. ‘I don’t think we should go there,’ he said. He was sure they had gone back in time, to the first Chinese settlement here, the original Chinatown.
‘You’re right about that,’ said the man. ‘If you go that far, you won’t be going home tonight.’
‘Who are you?’ asked Bobby.
The man seemed amused. ‘You don’t recognise me?’
Bobby looked closely at him. The man was a stranger but somehow, yes, familiar. ‘Are we related?’ he asked.
The man took Bobby in his arms. Bobby, who was strong as steel and quick as a bird, was helpless. And then he realised he was so glad to be embraced by this man who was father, brother, lover. Deeply content, he rested his head on the man’s shoulder and slept in perfect peace.
Bobby was in his car, parked in the lot outside the station. He felt completely refreshed. He was not at all surprised by what had happened. He accepted it.
The next day, he took Mitch to dinner. At the restaurant, near the end of the meal, he told him he didn’t think they should get together any more.
‘Yeah … well, too bad,’ said Mitch. ‘It’s been fun.’ He seemed to take it pretty well, no big deal, but when he said he was going to use the bathroom, he left the restaurant.
Bobby was sorry if he’d hurt Mitch. He didn’t want to hurt anyone ever again.
The end of DOMINATED BY HIM,
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