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THE FACIALIST: The Lambda Award Winner for Best Gay Erotica by Mykola Dementiuk – Sizzler Editions
The Facialist
A Sexual Story of the Lower East Side
by Mykola Dementiuk
Chapter 17
At nine-thirty the next morning --I still had not mentioned to mom that I had seen Pani Stetz-- I sauntered along Second Avenue to Eleventh Street, where I could turn off to Pani Stetz's building.
I was happy as if I knew something no one else did, and I wanted to share it another, namely with Shelly
I thought of him many times as I sat and listened to the radio --we still didn't have a television in those days and most of our news and entertainment came from the radio. Mom liked the romances, I tended more to mysteries.
But now with Shelly in my thoughts I found myself thinking of him, more and more.
What was Shelly doing? I knew Dickey was at work or maybe even in the restrooms, but where was Shelly at that moment? Playing with his girlie toys --if he had any, which I'm sure he did-- or playing with his little dickie?
I blushed and grinned.
Hey, Big Dick and Little Dickie, I thought to myself, that's what I'll call them, my Two Dickie's. I giggled, red-faced and entered Pani Stetz's apartment building.
On the stairs I stopped to listen, hardly any noise. Probably all at work, I thought, must be deadly still when school starts up again.
At Pani Stetz's landing I peered up at Shelly's floor, he was up there somewhere I knew. But I smirked and rubbed my slightly hard crotch, bracing myself, I knocked at her door.
Almost instantly I heard call, "Just a minute, be right there..."
With Shelly upstairs and Pani Stetz right here, I had it made!
The front door opened and Pani Stetz stood before me.
"Come in, come in," she cheerily said. "Don't mind me, I just got up," and she made a pretend-yawn to made it appear more natural. Still, I had to question what the makeup on her face, or the eyeshadow was all about, I knew those take time. I meekly smiled and entered her apartment.
"Did you have your coffee?" she asked, holding a cup and taking a sip. "I always need mine first thing in the morning. I'll get you some," and she reached in a closet for a cup.
"No, no, thanks," I shook my head. "I'm okay."
She shrugged and went back to sipping her own coffee. She was wearing a short-sleeved pink blouse that was unbuttoned at the front, she put her cup down and seemed to sway around the room in her white pants.
Pants on a woman in the early 1960s were still risqué, a bit bold, but she wore them naturally as if trousers were a normal thing on a woman.
But under her pants, as if molded onto her skin, she had on nylons and a garter belt, it appeared, which was clearly visible under her sexy clothes.
My mouth dropped as I stared at it; she also looked down, blushed, and smiled at me.
"I have your...wench," she muttered, pointing to the kitchen table. "Or whatever you call it. This big thing..."
I wiped my brow. "Yeah, wrench," I stressed, turning to the kitchen table. It lay there, four or five inches long, as if ready and waiting to be picked up; I wondered where she had got it. I tried picking it up but dropped it back down.
"Wow, it's heavy," I said, amazed by its two, three-pound weight. She nodded.
"That's the same thing Stahsh said," she stressed, and set her cup down in the sink. "Heavy and big --he brought it over."
"Stahsh," I looked at her. "Who's Stahsh?"
I hated Polish names; they sound so uppity and superior especially when spoken by a Polish person, which Pani Stetz certainly was.
"My beau," she said, blushing, then by way of explanation. "My boyfriend, the man of the house, so he calls himself; that is if he moves in, which I don't think he will. But we'll see..."
I stood listening to her and frowning. Of course, she would have a boyfriend, I had hardly ever seen a woman without a man or boyfriend attached. But what about Dickie, he doesn't have a girlfriend, or does he, maybe it's Shelly, now being replaced by me?
I shook my head as if awakening.
"Guess, I'll get started..." though I really didn't know what to do.
"Listen, what do you think of these pants?" she asked, changing the subject and holding out her arms. "Can you see anything in them, I mean really, see?" And she slowly twirled around and looked back at me. "Tell me the truth..."
I stared open-mouthed. Her pants were white, but molded underneath were the knobs of a fabric which were nylons and a garter belt, protruding in her tight material.
"Yeah," I breathed, sweaty faced. "I can your...bumps, you know..."
"Huh, what bumps?" she asked, looking down at her legs. "You mean these girly things?" and she turned red.
The molding of her garter and nylons was certainly visible; it was clear what she had on underneath. I gripped the heavy wrench and leaned back on the sink, my own large bump pushing in my pants.
She looked down then cleared her throat.
"Well, I think I'd better change, though I don't know why," she said, shaking her head. "Anyway, Stahsh likes my clothes but when he comes by always tries to get them off." And she girlishly giggled but looked at me. "You get started, okay?" And she left the room.
I looked after her, still clutching the wrench. What a tease, she is playing me, that's for sure. I breathed out and rubbed my crotch. God did that feel good! When all I wanted was to lower my pants and give myself a nice stiff jerking-off, whump, whump, whump...
I shook my head and looked back at the sink. It was one of those new style sinks, unlike the old-fashioned kind I have at home, with those old pronged twistable taps which always dripped water anyway. But these now ones, in the fashionable apartments, shouldn't be dripping water, or should they?
I studied the strange faucet stinking up and out. Much like a stiff dick, I smirked then frowned, thinking of Dickie and how his dick shot into my face.
I shook my head and slightly gagged; the memory of someone's stiff dick was at times a repellent one. Repellent and abusive, while at other times, charming and enticing, which I seemed to like. Sometimes I craved and wanted it, while at others I didn't. Either way, my feelings were confused.
I dropped the wrench, making a horrible thudding noise that brought Pani Stetz rushing back into the room.
"My God, what was that?"
She had removed her pants and one nylon, and now stood before me with one nylon still weaving down her other leg. Pink panties were on her.
"Nothing," I mumbled, "dropped the wrench."
I bent down to pick it up when I saw her legs stepping towards me. I gazed at her bare leg, and I no longer cared. On my knees I reached up and clasped her legs, clutching the bare one and the nyloned leg, too. My eyes were closed but I was aware of lowering my zipper, clutching and stroking my penis and in an instant, barely three or four strokes, I felt the jism rushing upwards in my dick and exploding on her one nylon clad leg. God, what bliss!
But I dared to open my eyes, terrified over what had just occurred, but I was very afraid and embarrassed. Dollops of my scum glistened on her nylon clad leg.
God was I afraid, can she get pregnant in doing what we just did? Boy am I in deep trouble?!
But Pani Stetz stood there smirking down at me and shaking her head. She pulled herself away and handed me a towel.
"Wipe yourself..." she suggested. "Boy, are you fast!" and she shook her head.
I got up and wiped my wet limp penis. "Put it away," she said and stared at it. I could make out my scum easing down her bare leg to her foot.
"I'm very sorry," I said, zippering up, "Very sorry..." But what if she tells my mother...
She looked at me. "You have to use the bathroom?" she asked, now unhooking the garter that held her now-soiled nylon hose.
"No," I answered.
"You're sure, maybe you have to pee?"
I again shook my head. "No, I'm fine."
"Have it your way," she shrugged, studied me for a few moments, then blew me a kiss and walked out of the room.
Her fake blown kiss, which I'm sure it was, had me more confused than I already was.
Is she in love with me or what? Can it be possible I got her pregnant and now she expects to get married? Man, woman relations are damned weird. God, what if she breaks the news to my mother? I can't be the father, I'm only a kid, seventeen years old... Aw, Jesus, what a mess...
I again picked up the wrench; I had no idea what to do with it. I'm not a plumber!
I looked at the doorway where Pani Stetz had disappeared into and set the wrench down. I shook my head and walked slowly to the front door, opened it and slunk out of the apartment.
Chapter 18
I froze.
In the doorway to the building stood Shelly, biting his nails.
I opened the front door and nervously looked at him. Like me, he also was shy, quiet and worried about something.
"Hah, the delivery boy," he snidely blurted, "probably delivering stuff, like all delivery boys. Hah, gimme a break!" And he went back to chewing his nails.
I shrugged. "Just fixing her pipes," I boasted.
"Oh, yeah, how much did she pay you?"
I looked at him. "None of your business," I answered, glaring at him.
We were silent, just looking at each other. I shook my head.
"Why do you do that," I asked, "why do you bite your nails so much?"
He pulled his hand from his mouth.
"None of your damned business," he said, folding his arms.
We looked at each other, actually, glared at the other.
"Did you know," I said, "that Dickie sucks other guys in the bathroom in the park, maybe even little boys?"
Shely shrugged, "His names Freddie, I have no idea who Dickey is, but aren't you a little boy, too?" He spat out the little bit of nail he chewed but said, "Anyway, that's how we first met, in the bathroom. Where did you meet him?"
I blushed. "Also, in the restroom, but he followed me in the park. We said a few words, then we went to his place."
He stared at me; his eyes avid, hungry; I saw that calmness had returned.
"But you know," I continued, "he doesn't like you anymore. He said so. Plus, your time with him is almost up."
He fumed. "I don't care. I'm going to tell him you were in Mrs. Stetz's apartment," he said, crossing his arms. "Doesn't like his boys being with women, says they pollute us."
"Oh, big deal, tell him I got her pregnant, too." I grinned at him.
"Yeah, sure, sure," but he looked at me, incredulously, then said, "How did you do that?"
I shrugged. "Shot my spunk on her legs." I felt my cock stiffening. "It dribbled down to her foot." We were so close I could almost touch his arm, when he burst out laughing.
"That's stupid. You can't get a woman pregnant that way, not on her legs." He shook his head. "You're making it up, you're a filthy liar, too."
"Oh, yeah, why don't you ask her?"
He glared at me. "I will, but I'm not a lying jerk, like you are. You don't know anything about men or women. You don't even know how a woman gets pregnant, and it isn't by shooting spunk on her legs. That's ridiculous." He looked at me, shaking his head in scorn and ridicule. "A real klutz, that's what you are."
I stood there, red-faced and feeling rather silly yet also at the same time happy and relieved. So Pani Stetz wasn't pregnant as I imagined she was. Boy, that puts a different light on things, doesn't it? When I heard loud woman's steps descending the stairs --no mistaking whose they might be-- I wanted to run...but it was Shelly's mother.
"Are you ready?" complained Shelly, taking a step from the doorway.
"Why, hello, it's the young...delivery boy, isn't it?" said his mother. But there was a contemptuous sneer in her voice. "Going to Mrs. Stetz apartment, I take it?"
Shelly bitterly protested. "Mother, can we go?"
She made a face.
"Shelly, stop being such a baby," she said, looking at me and adjusting her gloves. She went up to Shelly and tried taking his hand, but he angrily put them both in his pockets, storming away from her.
I smiled after them and shook my own head.
So, she wasn't pregnant as I thought she was. Shelly was right, what a damned klutz!
I reopened the front door and ascended the stairs once again.
Why women take hours in getting ready, just look at Shelly with his mother; he was downstairs impatiently waiting for her, while she still was upstairs doing who the hell knows what...
I came to Pani Stetz's floor and slunk to her doorway. I'll just open her door and get back to work. She'll never know a thing... I grinned and turned the doorknob. The door was bolted shut. Damn, she closed it... She probably had come back, saw that I was gone and angrily locked the front door.
Damn, I'm a goner...
I slunk back downstairs.
More to come on the upper right...or you can read the eBook now, click here:
THE FACIALIST: The Lambda Award Winner for Best Gay Erotica by Mykola Dementiuk – Sizzler Editions
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