Lucilene was on a pious task. She was double-checking her son's notebook from english class. That Bernardo kid had really hit a nerve on her. Pretentious little shit. She had her cellphone in her hands to translate the words written in the notebook. She wanted to find another curse word. Some may say she had too much time in her hands, but she didn't feel like that. She had worked like a log during her lifetime and built a small empire. Her house had three floors and was considered a mansion by the neighboors.
She enjoyed being the boss as much as she enjoyed her free time. She had it coming. No one deserved it more than her. Sure, she would stop by the clothing factory, but only to check on the personel's work. Workers need a leadership image to keep them motivated to impress you. It was pure power, and she loved it. The only place she sometime felt powerless was, curiously enough, in her own home. Towards her husband and, especially, her kid. Jordan was a mystery. He was so feminine that it felt like she had a daughter instead of a boy. She worried about that. His father didn't hide his disappointment to his child, he thinks they need to be brought up sternly and with discipline. He didn't like things far from the normal pattern. And, boy, was Jordan far from normal. More than Lucilene could even understand. She was now done with checking his homework. All good. Damn. Maria, the maid that had been with them since Jordan was first born, enters the spaceful living room. "Lunch's on the table." she announced, and Lucilene checked her wrist watch. "Has Jordan arrived?" "Yes, he's in his bedroom. Do you want me to get him?" "No, no, I'll go, thanks Maria."
She stands up and climbs the stairs towards Jordan's bedroom. She opens the door and the boy made a quick movement and put something under his pillows. "Don't you knock? What if I was bare naked?" he asks, offput by the situation. It was almost as he was busted spanking one out.
"Please. How many times have I seen you naked? And, by the way, the house is mine. I'll knock when I want to knock." She tries to see what he's hidden under the pillow but pretends to have seen nothing. That was a recurring move for her regarding Jordan. Turning the blind eye and all. She wasn't ready for him, but she was trying to get there.
"I'll come down soon." he says, staring at her, who doesn't move. He opens his eyes wide. "Well, can I?" he says. She didn't believe in giving space to teenagers. It was a dangerous action. But she left him be. Jordan was a curious-looking fella. He was of slim build, very effeminate and with rosy cheeks. I mean, he was pink. His face was very white and his cheeks looked like they had blush on it, but naturally. He dyed his hair to natural-red, a color he loved, and wore tight clothes. His bedroom was big, with a single bed, a big wooden wardrobe that filled an entire wall and a computer desk. He was brainstorming ideas for a performance at school. He wanted it to be a landmark on the school's history. And that was indeed going to happen. He climbed down the stairs and entered the dining room. The menu was rice, beans and steak with onions. Lots of onions. Those little pieces that stick in the meat, you know? Jordan hated onions. Trully, the word is hatred. His mother always seemed oblivious of that fact so he got tired of sharing it with her. It was of no use. As she said, the house was hers. The plates, the cluttery, the fucking food on the table. She always made it clear. He sat down and served himself, trying to pick the small onion pieces off his meat. His dad was in his warehouse playing guitar. It was sad, Jordan thought. Someone who clearly wanted to be a musician but the need for money led him to the business path. Jordan would never do that. He might be young, but it was made clear throughout stories told on books, movies and TV that the path of money-seeking is filled with frustrated expectations. He already had money, and estates and possessions. Inherited, of course. The road was free for him. But that led to more questioning and few answers. What to be? Who to be? Where to be? He felt lost. And it was about time to decide or he would lose momentum on the growing up race. You know, the race. Finish school and then look for another school and get a job and then work and study and then find a partner, another school, some children and dying. He wasn't sure he was a proper candidate for the race. He wasn't competitive. He didn't want to be king. He preferred the image of the joker. He just wanted to be himself. And that would take work and nerve, he knew.
It was friday. Jordan loved fridays. No better day for mischief. Really, he adored it. He was done eating and his mother left the house for her usual visiting of the factories. He and Maria only, but it's like he was alone. Maria loved and respected him, and also kept his secrets. She was more of a mother to him than Lucilene ever was in that factor. He went back to his bedroom, locked the door and put on some music. His ritual was to listen "Femme Fatale" by The Velvet Underground on repeat. The song starts and so does him. "Here she comes, you better watch your step..."
He takes the wig from under his pillow. Red-haired, of course, but a darker red than his own. He goes to the floor and takes a box from under his bed. He takes the corset-like girdle and gets naked, putting it on. It was a black fabric. He then takes from the box his jewelry and make-up. He sits down on the computer table facing a small mirror and starts transforming. He didn't like too much make up, only a little around the eyes and the lipstick. His skin was fair and very well taken care of, thank you very much. He had to fix his wig tight with some hair clips because Diogo liked pulling his hair. They had been doing this for a some years now. He worked with his father and spent some nights there, sleeping on Jordan's room. Playtime was only natural. Jordan was about 12 years old at the time, and there was no dressing up back then. Fun takes work. He receives a text. It's Diogo saying he was on his way. He didn't need to leave the room because Maria always opened the door for him. He smeers some vanilla cream on his body and turns off the music, unlocks the door and lies on the bed face down with his butt elevated in the air. That's how Diogo liked to be greeted. The doorbell rang and Jordan immediately got a hard on. Waiting with his butt lifted gave him a feeling of power. He knew just the right tilting of the ass to allure the male specimen. The door opens and there he is, his hood cap on and his simple clothing. Shaved hair, brunette and the right amount of hot. He closes the door and faces the bed, not saying anything. He slaps Jordan's white butt hard and starts pressing his fingers on his butthole through the girdle. He then starts kissing it gently, putting the fabric of the girdle aside and licking Jordan's asshole, who moans in pleasure. Diogo takes his pants off and his dick is huge and dark and very hard. He starts paintbrushing Jordan's asshole and spits on his cock, putting the head first to Jordan's pleasure. Another loud slap on his butt. He starts biting the buttcheeks and pressing them, inserting his entire dick in the boy.
He starts fucking Jordan and pulling his wig back, a fast thrusting and moans.
--
Felipe And Bill's First Kiss – The Gatekeeper
"Who the fuck is George Jones?" Kevin asked at the breakfast table. His description was only that he was pretty, but his rudeness turned him to an ugly fella. Bill shrugged and smiled. "Are you kidding? You don't know? He was the star of that show they filmed here, 'Ennui' something." Kevin had seen bits of the show. "Oh, that faggotry." Bill was chipped off by that. "Do you have to be such an asshole all of the time?"
"Careful, boy."
Bill let it go. He wasn't going to argue with his father again. Kevin gave him that look. His wife popped out of the outside kitchen. They lived in a nearby sort of farm beside Good Hope. "The Jones started this damn city, Kevin. Don't you read? It's on the signs." She said as she sat down and swallowed the slice of cheese she was holding.
The land they lived had open space between the outside kitchen where they had their meals, in front of the big house. Beside the lot there was a fenced area that kept the goats they had.
Bill finished his coffee and went outside near the goats to smoke some cigarettes while listening to the Bjork's album Felipe had recommended. It was her debut album and he was fairly enjoying it. Right beside the goat area there was a small cathedral built by the City Hall of Good Hope. It was quaint, kind of baroque, but always locked. Bill sent Felipe a message regarding some other tune they had disussed at school.
It was Sunday morning. He had a fucking essay to do due the next day. "The Main Facts Leading to Napolean's Fall". Shit. Felipe had basically sent his own version for him to get inspired by and maybe structure his text in a similar fashion. He was very talented, Felipe. Of course Bill knew Lipe had a crush on him. It was the first time he had noticed that a boy was hung up on him. It felt kind of… hot. Felipe had a nice bubble butt and always smelled like watermelon. At his core, he was a music man, plus his guitar and books. Once, Bill was at Santo Antonio Square and ran into Felipe. Bill was having an Açaí bowl and they sat down at the square and had an immense conversation. It was funny seeing Felipe outside of the school. It seemed they never ran out of topics to discuss. That was cool.
Bill's mates had started to become boring. They kept on talking about sports and chicks and, fine, Bill also liked sports and chicks but… it gets old. They knew each other for far too long for Bill to just discard them, but sometimes he wished he could disappear. Actually, his mates could disappear.
Smoking a joint by the goats since he saw Kevin leaving for the city, Bill kind of introspected into his life. There was a void. Was he just being a teenager? The joint felt alright and Bill only smoked half of it and sat down at the church's sidewalk, going through his phone. Felipe had a cool profile picture on social media. He was wearing a black cap, his red cheeks (it seemed he put on blush!) glistening. Cute smile. It was… hot. Bill sent him a message and lit a cigarette, sighing. He was halfway through it when the phone beeped. A smile. Of course Felipe had sent him a song along his greeting. "Heart Skipped a Beat" by a band called The XX. Bill had never heard it. It was good, and old.
He finished the cigarette and went inside. His mom was wathing TV still eating her cheese.
"You reek of nicotine." Bill sat beside her and kissed her head. "You look beautiful." He said smiling. She smiled as well and he sliced off a piece of her blue cheese and sipped a bit of her wine. "Why do you always look so goddam pretty?" he asked and she smoked a cigarette he had just given her. "Don't you charm me, William. Did you do your essay already? Remember to mention Waterloo. Abba did, so."
"I get the charming from you, of course. That loser only gave me his eyes. And some ugly beatings." William said pointing at a scar in his veiny arm. "Don't start with that again." She said, drinking and eating. "He's still violent with you, mom. I can't be here all of the time. Divorce his ass." She paused the TV. "He loves me. He's never been physical and does love me. And you. Stop antagonizing him. He's your father."
"He's just a loser, mom. Just a loser." Bill said, kissing her again and leaving for his bedroom. A poster of "Django Libre" stared at his big bed and spaceful room. His portrait of Papa Legba faced his mirror and his copy of "Howl" by Ginsberg was on top of his computer desk. He took his essay notebook from his bag, opened his mini-fridge taking a Coke, drinking it while he sat down at the desk to do the godddam forsaken paper gnawing. He glanced at Felipe's handwriting, It was thin and concise, delicate. Shit, he had forgotten to answer him. Where the hell had he put his phone on? Another sip of the coke. He told Felipe that it was funny to know that the Portuguese king was the only monarch that contradicted Napoeleon, fleeing to Brazil and leaving his entire people behind to perish by the hands of the French emperor. Felipe laughed at the insight in an audio where he talked about the Mad Queen and Carlota Joaquina. His voice was… hot. Bill took his pants off, laid in bed – half hard already – and clicked on Felipe's photo, fondling his dick remembering in Felipe's back in the lockerrooom, zooming in the boy's photo and masturbating. He didn't last two minutes and came. He reached for the cleenex on his bedside table and cleaned it off, taking another sip of the coke and lighting another cigarette. Some beeps, another audio and in ten minutes later the essay was done.
--
There was going to be a June Party at Bill's and he invited the entire class. Felipe was glad to be included. For the past week Bill had been giving him a lot of attention, even sitting with him during the intervals.
"Vacation, Lipe. Two weeks. Ah, man, I dream of the day I'll escape. To fuck off from this hellmouth. I think I'll go to Argentina first or maybe rent a bike and Che Guevera the hell out of the southern countries." Bill said touching his own hair. The way he did that was arousing to Felipe. "I know why Argentina first. Ennui." Felipe said. "No, man. Well, of course, but I researched online and there's no Hostel Fiesta there."
"He had to change the name, of course."
"I wouldn't. But I ain't no artist." Bill said and Felipe knew how to replied. "I like your paintings." And Bill just nodded. "You're gonna meet my goats. At the party, I mean. Hey, we're friends, right?" That took Felipe off guard. "Of course. Why?"
"That girl that follows you around. The one with the long hair. Tammy. She likes you. Why have you never… you know?"
How could Bill ask him that? Why?
"You know why." He said.
"Well, I guess, yeah, but I don't know. You could be bi. They exist, you know."
"Yeah. Unfortunately, I'm not. I haven't ever even… forget it."
"What? Had sex? That's okay, buddy. Lots of people here haven't. They're all talk."
"No. Kissed, I mean." Felipe said, blushing. Adorable. Then Bill just kind of looked at him in a weird way. Then, he kissed his cheek. Felipe flustered and got hard at the same time.
"We'll fix that. At the party. I'll find a charming boy to kiss you." The alarm rang and they went upstairs. Rodolpho was teaching. Bill was sitting by Felipe. "He's totally baked."
"How do you know?"
"It takes one." Bill smirked.
"The essays were… okay. If you have a question about the grade or correction, wait for the end of the class. Today we'll review the French Revolution and the rising of the emperor. Book page 321. Pair up, please. No, Nilo, you can't do it alone. Sit with Jordan. You may start." And they did.
It was weird the way Bill had taken an affection towards Lipe. The gay boy even wrote a song, but didn't show Bill yet. It wasn't time. It was called "Your Kiss". Ridiculous, of course.
--
They were at the party. Bill's mom had really infested time on the decoration and the goodies.
"Have you ever tasted Quentão?" Bill asked Felipe shortly after he arrived, who nodded in the negative. "You're gonna like it. It's cachaça with sliced fruits and lots of ginger." Felipe took a sip of it. The taste of ginger lingered on the throat and it felt very hot, strong and delicious. "Hmm!"
"It's the ginger. Come on, get up, I'm going to introduce you to my goats." Bill said and Felipe quickly got up. As they walked past the people drinking, singing and staring, Felipe got anxious. He felt he was going to be set up with someone because of the kiss remark.
The night was dark and you could barely see the churh, let along the goats. But you could hear them. Meeeh. Bill lit a cigarette.
"You know, lots of people consider the goat to be a symbol of the Eshu. Do you know what that means?"
"Kind of, yes. The protector of souls and the crossroads, right?"
"Among other things, but yes. They open the path ahead. Come here; Closer to me." What? Felipe's heart was pounding.
"I wrote a song, Bill…"
"Stop talking." Bill ordered and the boy did so. "Hold my hands. Forget about the party. Forget about school. Forget about music. This is going to taste like booze and cigarettes."
Bill, holding Felipe's trembling hands, neared his own nose to Lipe's, slightly toching it. First, he kissed Felipe's neck and grabbed his fat butt. Felipe could feel Bill's hard cock up against his. Then… it did taste like cigarettes.
They didn't know, but someone else was watching. Meeeh.