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THE FACIALIST: The Lambda Award Winner for Best Gay Erotica by Mykola Dementiuk – Sizzler Editions
Lambda Award Winner 2012
The Facialist
A Sexual Story of the Lower East Side
by Mykola Dementiuk
Chapter 13
I walked into the park, past the old Ukrainian men on Seventh Street sitting and chattering like old women.
Made my way to the Temprance Fountian near Ninth Street, that strange fountain covered with a concrete canopy and surrounded with four columns and. Faith, Hope, Charity, and Temperance were carved on each side as you walked around it.
But it was never filled with health water, just the remains of discarded soda cans, beer cans, cigarettes, cigar stubs, and a few vague rubbers that had lain there for many days if not weeks.
From the Fountain I could see the small, single-storied park offices on Ninth Street, with the candy shop in the center and restrooms on each side, Men's on one, Women's at the other.
Had Shelly ever been in the Women's Room? I shook my head, dismissing the foolish thought.
At the far end of the park on Tenth Street and Avenue B were various basketball courts, a place that Shosha used to come to.
A few men came in and out of the restroom, some looking nonchalant while a few appeared winded and beaten; I could just imagine what they were doing in the stalls.
I blushed angrily recalling the previous evening and almost getting locked in. I grimaced and walked across the sporting field but that did no good.
There were kids and teens playing, running, catching balls, throwing them and running around again.
But nowhere did I see Shelly, or someone of her shape or size. Every time I imagined it was her, on coming closer I grew disappointed when I realized it wasn't. I walked on...
Must have walked three or four times along the paths of the park, from Seventh Street to Tenth Street, from Avenues A and B until I knew she was nowhere around.
What an idiot! I thought. She's probably sitting in a comfortable fan-blown apartment while I'm pacing back and forth in the uncomfortable heat, just sweating my ass off!
I gritted my teeth. The day had darkened, with the winds picking up; raindrops were starting to fall. People were getting up from their benches and beginning to walk quickly out of the park.
I was near Tenth Street as the first heavy raindrops fell. I skirted up a pathway and made it out of the park. Raindrops increased as I darted across Tenth Street to the doorway of the Tompkins Square Public Library.
Behind me, thunder exploded and went crashing all around through the streets. Boy, I sure was lucky to have been so near to the library.
I looked at the people who had run for cover standing in the doorway; they stood huddled but continued their gossiping, laughing, and trying to protect themselves from the rain. I turned from them and climbed the three or four steps, entering the library.
Amazing, how peaceful and almost sleepy-like the place was...
Here was the abode of study, reading, and pursuing knowledge, but not with the wastefulness of the street outside.
Hush, silence! Admonished a librarian's voice deep in our subconscious that we recalled from our childhood days and which we meekly obeyed shutting ourselves up in the silent bookshelves around us.
I lowered my head and crept to the stacks, passing a few figures hunched and reading books at the tables.
New Books read a notice on a slim bookcase. A row of books, various new titles of the time stood before me. Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, Nightmare in Pink, Dame's Delight, I Never Promised You a Rose Garden, and on and on.
I thought of picking up a book but instead I walked around the stacks. There's gotta be something here to read, a mystery or a thriller?
Near a corner of the library, far from the peopled front, sat a figure with his head down and reading a book. Crouched over as he was, I couldn't make out his face, but there was something familiar about the way he sat, one foot atop the other, and that one tilted upwards, holding the two together.
My penis hardened; the way he sat was very feminine. He looked up. My God, it's Shelly!
I reddened, as he did, too. I shuffled to him. He nervously looked down, away from my face, then at me, and nervously whispered, "What are you doing here?"
I looked to the front, past a few rows of books. "Looking for you," I answered, trying to look him in the eye.
"Oh, c'mon, stop kidding."
I shook my head. "No fooling. I've been in the park looking for you, walking around the paths. I couldn't find you anywhere."
He looked at the librarian, sitting at the front desk, and touched my hand, "I was sitting here, reading."
We looked at each other, holding hands. His hand was warm and comforting; I was glad to be holding it. We had just met yesterday but it seemed as if we knew each other for ages. I suppose when you know person's secret sexual tastes, that's all that matters.
"What are you reading?" I whispered. We both looked in the direction in the direction of the librarian.
"A silly new book," he said, turning the book over so its spine could be seen. Sex and the Single Girl, Brown. He sighed, and said, "Meant for silly girls like me..."
"Must be exciting," I said, squeezing his hand.
"Girly stuff," he shrugged, shaking his head.
"So, what, you like it, don't you?" We looked at each other. I whispered, "We both like girly stuff, you and I. No..."
My penis was incredibly hard, as I'm sure his was too.
"That's why I read so much of their nonsense. I know girls like it, so I like it, too." He shrugged. "So where does that leave me? He looked at me and answered his own question. "In the library, reading their silly books, that's where..."
I smiled. "It's good place to come to," I looked towards the windows, "to get out of the rain."
"Oh, it's raining," he asked, also looking at the windows. "I wouldn't know," he shrugged, "I been here all morning." And he let go of my hand, stretched, yawned and giggled. "I'm just a silly girl," he whispered, looking at me, his eyes wide, desperate. "Too bad we can't go the Freddie's apartment," he added, rubbing his crotch.
"Freddie?" I looked at him, "he told me his name his name was Dickie." We were close to each other, his hand tapping mine, our fingers encircling each other. "He probably lied to you, too. Anyway, who knows what his real name is? I call him Big Dick after what he did to me..."
He threw off my hand, shut the book he was still holding and stared at me. "What?"
I tried to explain what occurred the previous evening but after some moments he shook his head.
"That's not true," he angrily said, "Freddie doesn't pick other sissy's; says they're crude and ugly. He's selective. You're confused over what happed in the park bathroom." And he angrily shook his head. "I know he wouldn't do that; he stays with us...girls," and he blushed. He stared at me a moment and narrowed his eyes. "You're stupid, and ugly, too. Now, get out of my way!"
He pushed me aside and walked away. "Shelly, wait..." I called after him, but he stormed to the front desk where he tossed his book onto it, and out of the library. The librarian looked at him rushing past, then at me standing in the stacks. She picked up his book, read the spine and looking quizzically from the book to me.
I knew Shelly couldn't wait to see Dickie, or Freddie, or whatever his name was. Aw, the hell with them both, I cursed, looked at the librarian and went outside into the wet but quicky drying streets. A glimmer of sunlight was already coming out.
Still, throughout my conversation with Shelly, my prick was explosively stiff. I hurried home where I knew I could jerk-off in peace.
Chapter 14
On First Avenue, a few blocks from my house, I saw my mother's friend, Mrs. Stetz, or Pani Stetz in Polish, the lady who once admitted some boys would look better dressed as girls.
She was carrying two overloaded grocery bags and looking winded and drained from the chore.
A few times, over the years, I had seen her stopping my mom, but always gushing and gossiping as my mother stood impatiently waiting to get away from her.
Always nosy and flirtatious Pani Stetz had it in for every man she met; she had been married three or four times --mom didn't really know-- but still had her stable of men just waiting to get in her front door.
"Stay away from bitch!" my father had one day said as we passed her on First Avenue. "She has some nerve calling herself a Pani, hah!"
But Pani Stetz saw me and immediately smiled in my direction. "Yoohoo, young man," she gushed. "I know your mother and father," and she blushed, "you remember me? Can you help me, won't you, sweetie?"
And one bag almost tumbled out of her arms, but she took a step, held the bag upwards and used her upper leg to support it. I hurried to her, and we saved the collapsing parcel.
Inadvertently, my hand brushed against her breast, and she seemed to swoon, her eyes slightly shutting as she bit her lower lip. But she opened her eyes, looking gratefully at me as I took the bag from her, while she clutched the other bag to her chest.
"Oh, you saved me, what can I do to thank you?" she trilled, as she cunningly winked one eye. "But we'll think of something, won't we, sweetie?"
We stood, adjusting the bags. "Walk me to my house," she quietly said, as she steadied herself from the bag, and once again winked.
I frowned. "Can't," I said, shaking my head. Have to get home, mom will be waiting." But I felt bad about mom's fictional waiting for me; hell, I knew no one was waiting.
"Oh, c'mon, it's just a few blocks from here, on Eleventh, not far at all, and you'll be helping me a lot." And again, she winked. "Plus, I'll make it worth your while, I wouldn't ask you for nothing, now, would I?"
I shrugged and carried her bag up the street. Her comment of making it worth my while had caught my attention; obviously she was going the pay me. But with what, one or two dimes, maybe even a quarter? That would be so neat!
We walked up First Avenue and turned on Eleventh Street, coming to a small apartment complex of two or three similar looking buildings, close to Second Avenue, which she had recently moved into.
"Okay," I said, as she pushed the door open, expecting her to take her bag. We looked at each other.
"But you must help me up, sweetie," she said, shaking her head. "Just two flights up," and she went ahead of me.
I winced but began following her up the stairs, looking at her swaying flowered skirt before me. Amazing how many different patterned fabrics women put on; a cornucopia of colors, all so beautiful, all so swishing and alluring.
We quickly reached the second floor, and she led me to her door, fumbling with the lock.
"This never works since I moved in," she said, shaking her head and setting her bag down. "I told the super many times that it's jammed or something, and he told me to jiggle it a few times. Jiggle, jiggle. Go jiggle yourself! I told him." And shaking her head she looked at me as the lock clicked. "Finally," she exclaimed, and kicked the door fully open with her foot, entering with me right behind her.
We set the bags on the table as she wiped her forehead.
"Matke Boze (Mother of God) is it hot, whew!" she clutched her blouse at her chest, fluffing it out for air. She clicked a fan on; it rotated on its base and stirred the air somewhat. "Have to get out of this," she said, quickly unbuttoning the front of her blouse and swinging it back on her shoulders, revealing a very fulsome bosom, a yellow bra hung about her chest.
I watched mesmerized; the moist, wet stickiness of her skin was enchanting. But being in her apartment was very weird. I had felt a similar strangeness in Dickie's apartment; that I'm in a place where I don't belong. Yet the aura here was charming and enticing, each object seeming to shyly say, But we haven't been introduced yet....and flitting their eyes downwards. It was tease, a flagrant, but blatant enticement. And I liked it!
Still, I was very confused. After having been with cunning Dickie and giggly Shelly, I still desperately hungered for each. But today, faced with being with Pani Stetz, I was drawn to her femininity, which she had exposed to me by taking off sweaty blouse. Man or woman? I no longer cared what I was but still I hated that in a few moments I would be forced to leave.
"Yeah, it sure is hot," I said. "Can I have some water?"
"Why, yes, certainly," she answered, turning to the sink. "Silly me..."
I turned red. That's exactly what Shelly had said in the library, silly me...
The water gurgled and spat out, as if taking its time before it gushed out. "Damn, nothing seems to work anymore," she said, shaking her head.
"Yeah," I nodded, "Just like the jiggling lock."
She grinned, "Exactly, just as the jiggling lock."
We both grinned and I drank the glass of tepid water she gave me but set it down on the kitchen table. Too warm, I thought, but she had turned and opened her purse.
"Aw, damn, I got no change," she said. "Just a few meager coins..." and she held out her hand with a few pennies, a nickel and dime. "I promised you more, didn't I?"
I frowned. "Yeah, well..."
"Oh, wait a minute. I hear someone's coming up the stairs," she said, and hurried to the doorway, where a woman was about to climb the upper stairs. "Lucia, do you have any change for my delivery boy? I'm all out. Pay you back later."
The woman glanced at me, frowned, but stepped aside and opened her own bag, pulling out a change purse. "How about two quarters? Sorry, but that's all I have."
"Perfect!" Pani Stetz exclaimed, beaming and smiling at me.
"Come here and say hello to Mrs. Stetz," the lady in the hallway said to a figure standing nearby. "I tell you, boys can be so impolite, nowadays."
I heard a footstep and looked up. My God, it was Shelly!
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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