Chapter 12

WHEN I ENTERED MY MOTHER'S HOME, I saw that damned Alfie lying on the sofa having a drink. He looked as if he thought he owned the place. Anger returned to me, and I strode over to him quickly.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I barked.

He smiled. "Just having a drink. Your mother is taking a nap and Mr. LeBlanc, as you call him-I used to call him uncle, by the way-is taking a shower." He smiled again and took a sip of his drink, putting the glass down on the cocktail table. "How are you, my dear chap?"

"What do you mean, Mr. LeBlanc is taking a shower. He's ill. Isn't he in a hospital?" It occurred to me then that Abbie hadn't said her father was in a hospital. She hadn't said where he was.

"A hospital? Why should he be in a hospital."

"Because he's supposed to be very ill."

"He's been drinking a lot and doesn't eat much, but he certainly isn't ill, old fellow."

"Abbie said he's very ill, damn it."

Alfie sat up straight. "My dear chap, your wife, Abbie, will lie about anything. I daresay she thought you weren't paying any ... I beg your pardon ... enough attention to her, so she tried to create sympathy for herself by telling you he was ill. It's an old female trick, you know."

"I don't believe you," I said hotly.

He waved a hand at the stairs. "There he is, in person. Take a look and see for yourself."

I glanced at the stairs and saw Mr. LeBlanc coming down them. He looked thin and dissipated, but not ill. I swore harshly. He came all the way down the stairs, nodded curtly to me and went to the phone. I watched him as he spoke over it and saw him hang up. He came back to where the two of us were.

Speaking to Alfie and not me, he said, "I have to go downtown. Perhaps you'll be good enough to entertain Robert, Alfie."

Alfie smirked. "I'll certainly try."

Mr. LeBlanc turned to me. "Your mother didn't sleep last night. She's napping. Please don't awaken her for a while." Saying this, he nodded to us and walked out the front door before I could say a word.

Alfie gave his blonde head a toss and laughed. "I say, this strikes me oddly. He's asking me to entertain you in your own home."

"I don't live here any more," I said coldly.

"Oh, my dear chap. You don't have to pretend with me. I know how you feel about your mother. Everyone does."

"Is that so?" I barked. "Well, maybe you're wrong, buster."

He got to his feet hurriedly. "Oh, dear, did I say something wrong? I've offended you, haven't I?"

"Spit it out. I asked you a question when I first came in. I'll repeat it. What the hell are you doing here?"

"My uncle, that is, Mr. LeBlanc, asked me over." He paused and tapped his teeth with his finger. "May I ask you something?"

"I don't know. What is it you want to know?"

He raised his brows, sighed and sat down on the sofa. "You aren't getting along with Abbie very well, are you?"

"That's my business, not yours."

"Come now, Robert. Let's don't be offensive toward one another. Let's be friends."

I glanced up at the mezzine to see if my mother was in view. She wasn't. I swore to myself, picked up a bottle of whiskey, taking care to choose one that hadn't previously been opened, and poured myself a drink. I carried it across the room and stood looking out a window and sipping the whiskey.

"Are you hard up, Robert?" he called over, his voice sounding strange.

I turned around slowly and faced him. "What?"

He got up and moved partway across the room, all the while eying me intently. "Please don't be offended at what I'm about to say, but I remember that first time I met you ... you let me cornhole you, and I enjoyed it very much. However, corning a man isn't my bag. I like to ... receive, not give. If you're hard up for a piece, I'd be glad to allow you to...."

"Knock it off, Alfie boy," I said harshly. "Don't go on the make for me."

"I can't help it, Robert. You're such a handsome chap. You make me very hot."

"Go someplace else and be hot," I snapped. "I'm not interested."

He turned around and went back to the sofa and lay down on it, never taking his eyes off me. "I can't leave, Robert. Mr. LeBlanc would be furious if I did."

"Tough."

"Please forgive me for propositioning you, Robert. You must understand that I can't help it."

"Okay, you can't help it."

"Come over here, will you, Robert? I want to show you something."

Reluctantly, I walked over near him, and when I was about ten feet from him, he unzipped his pants and took out his prong. It was hard.

"Put it away!" I snapped. "What the hell's wrong with you?"

"Don't I have a pretty one, Robert. Just look at it. I dare you to look at it."

"I think," I said slowly, "that you have the idea that I'm a latent homosexual. I'm not. So put it away before I toss you out on your ear."

He replaced his prick in his pants, zipped himself up, and laughed nervously. "You mean that didn't excite you at all, Robert?"

"No."

"How strange it must be to be normal," he murmured. "I can't conceive of anyone not liking it." He emphasized the last word.

"Everyone has his own hang-up," I said absently, and walked away from him. I glanced up at the mezzanine again.

"Why do you keep looking up there?" he wanted to know. "Your mother is taking a nap."

"If I want to look up there, I will, buster. Don't ask so many questions. I'm not in the mood for answering them."

"Did you come to make your mother, Robert?" he asked, disregarding what I'd just said.

"Shut up, damn it."

"Very well. I'm only trying to be of help to you."

"What makes you think I need help from you?"

"I can tell," he said, smiling at me. "I know when a person is having a bad time of it."

I took a drink. "You might as well save your breath. I won't give you what you want."

"I'm perfectly willing to wait."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He laughed. "Oh, you'll find out."

"You know something? You're getting me angry."

"Please don't be angry with me, Robert. I have to make my pitch, you know. However would I get any cocks in my mouth if I didn't try?"

"Why don't you stick to guys who go for it? Why pick on me?"

"You're handy, Robert, and besides, you're very sexy and good-looking."

I sucked in my breath and tried to control my temper. I was close to beating the hell out of this fag, but I knew that this was more than likely what he wanted me to do, among other things. I turned away from him, glanced up the stairs again, set my glass down and walked out of the room. Going to the bathroom wasn't necessary, but at least it would get me away from him for a while. I started to urinate and was astonished when my penis became hard. I couldn't urinate, so I tucked my hardon back in my pants and washed my hands, trying to get my mind off things in general. I wondered if his sex talk had done this to me.

"Forget it," I muttered. "Don't even think about that bastard."

"My, what a pretty one," Alfie said from behind me. "How exciting to see that I've given you a hard-on."

I whirled about quickly and angrily. "What the hell do you mean sneaking up behind me? You're getting too goddamned bold. Just about one more move from you and I'm going to lay one on you." He laughed. "Delightful thought. Why don't I you? I'd love it dear boy."

I growled something and brushed past him and j returned to the living room, my blood boiling now. I He followed me and stood off to one side of the room, his dick out of his pants.

"Look at me," he smirked. "I dare you to look at me.

I looked at him. "You're out of your mind," I said. "What are you on, whiskey, pot or what?"

"Nothing, dear boy. I'm just hot for you. I want to suck you off, baby."

"You son of a bitch!" I yelled. "You want to get yourself killed, then keep this up."

"Go ahead. Abuse me. I told you. I'd love to be beaten up by you, handsome boy."

I gave my head a shake. "How the hell do I handle you? You beat anything I ever saw."

He laughed. "Why don't you let me? Then you won't be bothered by it any longer."

"No thanks."

"Please?" His eyes were beseeching me now. "No, goddamn it. How many times do I have to tell you?"

"I could show you a simply marvelous time, Robert."

"I wish you'd get out of here." I was trembling all over now. "I don't know how long I can keep my temper."

"Don't keep it, baby. Get mad at me, beat me up. After you beat me up, I'd be happy to gratify you otherwise, too."

He came closer to me, stuck out his jaw invitingly, and I couldn't restrain myself. I hit him as hard as I could, and he nearly did a flip-flop as he hit the floor. He lay there with a dazed grin on his face, and I couldn't help noticing that his dick was leaking. The sap was pouring out of him and shooting up into the air two or three feet. I turned my gaze away from him, feeling sick to my stomach, but oddly fascinated by such a perverse thing.

"Oh, baby!" he cried drunkenly. "How perfectly wonderful. I love you for that." He got to his feet, staggered and lunged toward me, but I sidestepped him and moved away. "Baby," he repeated. "Hit me again, please." His dick was still spraying sap, and now it was running down the front of his pants and striking the carpet.

I felt like grabbing him and heaving him out into the street, but I didn't want to touch him. He fell down again but got back to his feet, and I saw that his mouth was bleeding now, something I hadn't noticed before.

"Baby," he muttered. "I love you, baby. Let me take you ... please."

"Get lost!" I yelled, and started for the front door. I tripped over a hassock, and before I could get up he had thrown himself on top of me and was spraying his juice on my pants. Again I wanted to throw up. I managed to knock him aside and get to my feet, but he, too, got to his feet, and I saw his eyes were almost closed now with passion.

"Baby," he mumbled, "Alfie's got hot pants for you."

"You crazy son of a bitch. Are you asking me to kill you?" I yelled at him.

He lunged at me again and this time caught hold of my arm. I knocked him aside in disgust, and at the same time I heard a voice.

"ROBERT!"

I glanced up quickly and saw my mother standing on the mezzanine. "Catch this," she called down, and threw something black and shiny to me. I caught it and saw it was a gun. "Kill that bastard, Robert."

I looked at her in horror. "W-What?"

"I said, kill that bastard. He's wrecked my home and marriage. Kill him!"

I looked at the gun, my mind confused. I glanced up again at my mother.

"Kill that cocksucker!" she screamed at me. "If you don't, you're no son of mine!"

I stared at the gun again, my mind growing more and more confused.

"Kill him! We'll tell the police he was trespassmg.

I lifted the gun, hardly knowing what I was doing.

"Don't do it," Alfie begged, a look of terror in his eyes. "Please don't do it. I'll leave. Please don't do as she says."

"KILL THAT LOUSY COCKSUCKER!"

The words, the command, seemed to reverberate throughout the room. I glanced down at the gun in my hand once again.

"Please!" Alfie cried, his tone really strange sounding now. "Please ... don't ... do ... it ... Robert ... please?"

"Kill him," my mother intoned.

I raised the gun and fired without even realizing what I was doing. Alfie slumped to the floor, and I dropped the gun and looked at the blood oozing out of his chest.

"That's a good boy, Robert," my mother called down to me. "You did the right thing. He was trying to ruin you, too, just as he did Mr. LeBlanc. You did the right thing."

I nodded, my mind totally in a daze now. "Yes, I did the right thing, Mother," I muttered in a monotone. "He was trying to ruin me."

"You may come upstairs now, Robert, and make love to me. I know that's what you've come for."

"Yes, Mother," I said numbly. "That's what I came for."

"Come up, dear. Come up and love your mother. Mother is very hot for you, dear, just as she always has been."

I nodded numbly and headed for the stairs.

"That's right, Robert dear. Come up the stairs to me. Mother will love you as no one else ever will."

I was at the top of the stairs now, and she took my hand and led me into her bedroom. She lay down on the bed and spread her legs far apart. She was wearing only a negligee, with nothing underneath it. She grinned at me oddly.

"Get on top of me, Robert. You must hurry or you'll be late for school, dear."

"Mother," I mumbled. "What're you saying?" I went closer to her and looked into her dark eyes. They were wild and glassy. "What's the matter with you, Mother?"

"Nothing, dear. I'm just so hot for my dear boy."

"You said something about me going to school," I faltered. "What did that mean?"

"Get on top of me, dear. You mustn't be late for school." She began to writhe her hips about in a grotesque manner.

I studied her eyes. It dawned on me then. She was stark, raving mad, and I'd killed a man because she had ordered me to do so.

"Get on top of me and gratify me, dear," she muttered thickly. "And be sure to come straight home from school."

I left the room, raced down the stairs, yanked open the front door and started running down the street. I've been running ever since.