The Bookstore Clerk by Mykola Dementiuk Read Free Book Online Page B

reached the store. “He makes all my suits. It does take a while to have a suit made, but Philip always comes through with just what you need, like suits when you’re in a hurry and can’t wait.”
We went into the large corner store—“Philip’s” read the sign in the front—and Philip instantly recognized Timmy and rushed over to him.
“Mr. Jennings, what a pleasure! You were here just last week, is anything wrong with your purchase?”
“Not at all, Philip, the sweater and neckties were ideal, but I have a special request for you.” He explained what he needed, a suit for me and in a hurry, too, because I had to wear it tomorrow morning.
“But Mr. Jennings,” said Philip, looking at me, “you know that’s no problem.” By then he had removed the measuring tape from around his neck and was taking all kind of measurements. He immediately found a suit just for me! I was stunned; I didn’t expect such speedy service. A navy-colored John F. Kennedy imitation suit and, even though I’m short, it was an ideal fit. I even felt presidential in it.
“Perfect!” said Philip. “Never before has there been a customer just made for this suit. This suit is you, that’s for sure,” he said, and he nodded repeatedly.
With two white shirts and a couple of light blue ones (Timmy had ties I could use), we happily left the store.
“Come back quickly,” said a merry Philip. “We’ll have a new order in about a week’s time.” We waved goodbye through the window and we walked home to 85 th Street.
“I thought I’d be wearing one of yours,” I said as we went in the building and climbed the stairs.
“Today’s rush put a damper on that. But it’s a new job, demands a new suit,” he smiled and opened the apartment door. In an instant, with the door shutting behind us, we both were on each other. He was pushing me toward the bedroom as we struggled out of our clothes and pressed our nakedness into each other. I lay back onto the bed and he jumped on next to me, on his hands and knees, licking my cock and fondling my balls. I shot my jism first, thick heady scum shooting onto his forehead and eyelids, and dripping past his nose. I didn’t hesitate. I kissed him, smearing my face in my own scum. I wasn’t repelled but licked it up readily. In about two, three minutes he shot off but it was weak and tired, as if there was no appetite remaining. He shivered once or twice then collapsed on the bed. He was spent.
“I’m sorry,” he finally said, looking away.
I sat up. “Sorry about what?”
“That I take so long to ejaculate.”
“Oh, don’t be silly. ‘Oh, bosh,’ as you always say. I enjoyed sucking you that much longer and savoring every moment while I was doing it. Your cock is just ideal for that,” I winked and again kissed him.
When we finally broke I got out of bed and hung the suit up.
“You got Miss Terri very mad this afternoon,” I said. “Wonder what she’ll do?”
“Oh, bosh on them both, her and that slut Connie. She doesn’t know how to dress properly. Always wearing such out-of style clothes. It reminds me of what women wore in World War II. Simply ridiculous. Terri sets her up to look like that, like an old crone so that she won’t look more attractive than Terri. Holds her under lock and key, that’s what lesbians do.”
“But queers don’t?”
“Of course not, we’re more liberal in our manly view, while women are just plain women. They’re old fashioned, not worth a dime, if you ask me.”
I didn’t care for his judgmental, outdated view; I tried changing the subject.
“So you think nothing’s going to happen tomorrow?”
Timmy studied me.
“If anything does, they’ll both be booted out of Doubleday’s. You can be sure Mr. Simmons had a stern talk with Terri. She’ll be quiet after today’s debacle.”
I marveled. So Mr. Simmons was one of us, too, a queer. Small world, indeed. I beamed at Timmy.
He lay on the bed, nodding his head, and I kept getting harder looking