Monkey Suits by Jim Provenzano Read Free Book Online Page A

Just saying it gets me hard. Makes ya wish ya’d taken another language in college.” Rick patted Lee’s butt, took a tray and left.

    “Okay, boys. Let’s go.” Sid clapped his hands, pushing a full tray at Lee. “Now get some adults this time. They’re the ones payin’ for the food.”

    “Right.” Once again entering the hall, he was immediately surrounded by hands and faces, each grabbing at his tray. To overcome a sudden claustrophobic panic, he merely stood, awaiting their approach. He gazed over to a far hall. A large tree of life, sculpted in metal, filled an entire wall, its branches reaching out and up. Names on small brass plaques marked the generations of benefactors. He felt a twinge of envy, seeing this clear symbol of community. What sort of family tree did he have? Parents in Indiana, a brother in LA, a few cousins, aunts and uncles sprinkled throughout Wisconsin. Where was his family? Just the mention of the word by sanctimonious TV politicians often brought a surge of confusion and resentment. The term had so often been used as a weapon, poised against him and his kind, the un-family.

    On his retreat with the empty tray, Lee spied a half-full bottle of champagne sitting on a cart. He glanced both ways, poured some in a glass, and gulped it before moving on. It was tepid, but it still tasted sweet.

    Rick cornered him in the kitchen hallway near their changing room. “If I have to say, ‘Of course, it’s kosher,’ one more time, I’m gonna scream.”

    Lee smiled, tickled by Rick’s attention and crude humor. “Why not just do a little runway.” Lee affected a model’s sashay. “Try it. It’s kosher. Try it. It’s kosher.”

    Rick furled his brow. “What do I look like, a supermarket taste tester?”

    “No,” Lee smirked. “But from what I saw before, you look like your testes taste super.”

    They burst into guffaws. Lee started to head off, but Rick pulled him back by his shoulder. “C’mere.” He quickly led Lee back into the classroom, dark except for the dusk light spilling through the window. The door closed behind them.

    “I’ll show you what tastes super.” He clutched Lee’s crotch. They nudged close together. Rick’s thick lips pressed against Lee’s mouth. They kissed deeply, their tongues dancing. Lee’s hand reached down to Rick’s pants.

    “Jeez, you’re hard as a rock,” he whispered as Rick’s penis pressed against his pants.

    “Ya wanna suck it?”

    “Not here!”

    “Lemme suck you.” Rick dropped to his knees and swiftly unzipped Lee’s pants. After his fingers dug through his boxers and released it, Rick’s lips surrounded his cock.

    “Isn’t this sacrilegious or something?” Lee whispered, his knees buckling from the pleasure. The empty tray, dangling from his hand, clanked softly against the door.

    Rick released Lee’s cock from his mouth with a slurping sound and looked up. “Why? You’re circumcised.”

    Maybe it was the Elvis impersonator that did it. It could have been the conga dancer in spandex pants and pink ruffled sleeves or his busty, frizzy-haired dancing partner swirling to “Got To Be Real” that sent Marcos reeling from the dining room. Or was it the glassy-eyed joy in the eyes of the adults, for whose amusement the acts had obviously been hired, since the children had long ago given up watching the show, and instead raced around the rickety dessert carts of waxy kosher chocolate and non-dairy eclairs? Perhaps noticing the thick pile of gift envelopes swiftly trade hands from the young boy of honor to his father’s coat pocket had forced Marcos to escape. Maybe it was just the food.

    Whatever the reason, he stood on the dark loading dock behind a dumpster, pissed, lit a cigarette and took a much-needed break. His own introduction to manhood had hardly been such a celebrated affair.

    At fourteen Marcos was forced to become the ‘man of the family.’ His parents had raised a good Catholic crop of kids in