Postcards From the Ledge (and Other Extraordinary Folk): Postcards From the Ledge ~ Part B

Ken Painter By Ken Painter, 6th Dec 2014 | Follow this author | RSS Feed | Short URL
Posted in Wikinut>Writing>General Fiction

Join me in a stroll through an eclectic collection of short stories filled with gay and straight characters in the mid-Michigan communities of Lansing and East Lansing and surrounding areas as they laugh, love, and find their lives intertwined in inexplicable ways. (Some of the stories - not all - contain softcore male/male sex scenes, and some of the material contained has been previously published on Wikinut by this author and have been modified from it's original form.)


Rollie walks through the door at precisely 5:20 p.m. to find the make-up flowers from Byerly’s, a dozen long-stemmed white roses which are my favorite, arranged in a crystal vase on the dining table accenting it perfectly. However, he doesn’t have a chance to notice them until after I let him come up for air after releasing him from our embrace and full-on deep throat liplock which lasts God knows how long. Who times these things anyway? The point is Rollie doesn’t make it more than two feet from the entry door before I attack him with The Make-up Kiss, and we come up for air laughing, smiling, and almost gooing, and then he goes to smell the roses.

Step Two, Rollie strides into the study to check out the corkboard where he pulls out the stickpin to gingerly read my fake suicide note, his monthly message. “I fell for you a long, long time ago, and it was forever,” he reads out loud, and I hear him get a catch in his throat as his voice becomes thick. “I’ve loved you long and hard, and I always will. Thank you for putting up with my monthlies. Happy 6th anniversary, Rollie! Your beloved, Abbot.” He turns to look at me with tears welling in his eyes. “Come here, you.”

I walk over slowly into his embrace and his wonderful musk.

“Do you have any idea how much I cherish you?” He whispers in my ear.

“I think I kind of get the picture,” I reply, but I know he can’t see my satisfied smile because my lips are resting on his shoulder though I believe he can probably hear it in my voice.

We must have been standing that way in that warmest of embraces for a full five minutes not saying anything just lost in the warmth and security of the moment until I finally break the trance.

“Turn the card over, Rollie,” I gently offer.

We finally break the embrace, and he looks at the other side, and his eyes go wide.

“Oh wow! I was just thinking about The Gardens today oddly enough. It came to mind when I saw the white roses at the florist’s. We must be on a wavelength today or something!”

"Or something,” I say with a twinkle in my eyes. “What do you have planned for this evening, Hon?”

“Well, we have reservations at The Fondue Place in a little bit, and then I might have some tricks up my sleeve. Are you almost ready to go?”

“Ooo, The Fondue Place! We love dipping things into things, don’t we? Yup, just let me grab a couple of things and I’m ready.”

Five minutes later we’re in the car and about to begin a lovely evening of beyond dinner I don’t know what.

An Evening to Remember

This man, my Rollie, is my man, my knight in shining armor I think to myself as we begin to polish off the chocolate fondue plate for our dessert, dipping the huge strawberries into the thick, rich chocolate and serving it to one another after it is served to us by our gorgeous black-haired, blue-eyed, college-aged, perfectly-built waiter. (Okay, Rollie and I are perfect mates for each other well Rollie’s a perfect mate, the jury’s still out on me, but we aren’t dead, and every time the waiter leaves our table we’re giggling about him behind his back just like two high school boys. Some men can be too perfect looking.)

So upon exiting the restaurant, Rollie kidnaps me in the front seat of our car.

“Where’re we going now, Hon?”

“Some place special,” and he looks over at me riding shotgun with a huge grin and a twinkle in his eye.

Ten minutes later finds us on the north side of the Michigan State University campus, and I’m beginning to get a sneaky hunch though I’m not saying anything. I figure we’re still on this wavelength we’d been working on.

Rollie finds a convenient parking spot on a side street, and we get out and begin to walk in a familiar direction. And I know, but I don’t say. I just smile at him and take his hand. We’re just going to stroll down Memory Lane. In the evening twilight. And it is perfect.

A fifteen minute stroll later brings us to our magical spot, the MSU Botanical Gardens, and this being June it still isn’t yet dark, and the roses are in bloom, and, my God, they’re magnificent! And the air is full, just laden, saturated with the smell, the full sensuous scent of roses! And the color! Wow! How beautiful they are in the twilight. I’ll bet they are fabulous at high noon! Rollie and I stroll among the various beds, and when we come to the white roses we stop. He grabs me and whirls me around embracing me in his arms, almost lifting me off the walkway into his kiss so forceful is this embrace, so needy, so emphatic! It’s like Rollie is saying to me ‘Take this, my love, and please never doubt my love.’ The only problem is, we both know how damaged I am, and Rollie embraced that fact a long time ago with my monthly letting off steam like a pressure cooker does.

When we come up for air a few moments later, I look beseechingly into his eyes and ask, “Can we sit down somewhere for a moment? You just knocked me off my feet, big guy.”

“Sure thing,” and he takes me by the hand leading me over to a sculpted marble bench.

While I know the answer to the question before I ask it, some special insecurity deep inside screams to me that I need to hear it spoken just then, and so I ask as I take his hand in mine and look so seriously into his steel-blue eyes, “Rollie, why do you put up with my monthly shit? I mean I’m really such a lunatic!” And my voice breaks down on the last part as I turn away from him in shame when I think about the complete ass I’d made of myself in the bedroom that very morning and every full moon we’d known each other for going on a decade now. Actually, if I cared to dig deep enough, some of those scenes were much, much worse than this morning’s.

Rollie gently caresses my face with his right hand and turns it back to look into his solemn visage. He wants me to be able to hang onto his every word. “Ab, I want you to hear me, and hear me very clearly. First you know that I love you, and that means I love and accept all of you in your entirety, and I wouldn’t change a thing. I really wouldn’t. I’ve come to accept this part of you, this monthly thing on the full moon as something in my mind as rather delightfully eccentric. But let’s face it, Ab, the whole world is messed up in one way or another, gay or straight, though the gay community may be just a little more damaged, and what happened with you from your mom during your childhood and we’re not gonna relive that ever again has damaged you perhaps a little more than some, but you’ve survived! And I love you all the more for it!”

I put my head on Rollie’s shoulder just like I did all those year’s ago and cry, and he saves me again that night like he did when we were back in college. It’s been a lot of years since we had replayed this scene. My, my how the years have passed, and we have needed this jump start again. Rollie just keeps running his hand through my hair and kissing my forehead and rubbing my cheek gently with the back of his fingers and eventually my whimpering passes. Fortunately we have the gardens all to ourselves this evening and my silly sentimentality passes in but a few minutes more allowing us to get up and walk back to the car hand in hand.

Every Afterglow is Different

Resting my head in the crook of Rollie’s arm in our queen-size bed after the most dizzying, gratifying sex imaginable later that evening and after kissing me for something like the thousandth time this night, Rollie looks at me with a wicked little grin and says “God I love your beautiful ass.” Of course, he’s kind of rubbing it gently as he’s saying this which only punctuates the compliment.

“Well, thank you sir. It comes as part of the package. Can’t do anything about it. I was born with it. But I love you and all of you, especially that dipping stick you’ve got!”

“Well, it’s easy to dip you with because of that cute ass of yours.” And then he gives me this positively devilish grin. “But then I guess Mick seems to agree with me. Thinks I’m the luckiest guy on Earth.”

The world stops for me in this moment as I stare at Rollie‘s huge shit-eating grin. “That rascal lied to me!” I look incredulously at Rollie who is absolutely beside himself as he begins to laugh so hard! Tears come to his eyes as I blush.

“It’s not funny,” I protest to him although I’m smiling at him while he laughs so uncontrollably I think he may never stop. Rollie is holding both arms across his belly.

“I’m sorry, Ab, I really am, it’s just that when he told me his pacemaker skipped a beat it made me so proud, and then I got this mental picture of him lying dead on the floor of his apartment from seeing you bare-assed, and, well . . . you know . . . what a way to go!”

“Yeah, I guess it is,” and I start laughing. “You mean, you don’t mind that I accidentally flashed the poor old guy?”

“Hell no, Babe! You really don’t have any idea how gorgeous you really are! You can flash the whole neighborhood, the whole damn world for all I care! You are that fucking beautiful, hot, sensuous.” Rollie places both of his hands on my face to make certain that I am getting the point of what he’s saying. “Yes, you, Abbot, YOU! You are that hot guy! Anybody can look, just nobody can touch but me. Probably not a good idea to turn the ledge into too much of a sideshow though. And I don’t think it’s a really good idea to kill Mick.”

We are both laughing uncontrollably by then, but eventually the laughter dies down, and we fall into a soft, contented embrace and then the spoon position falling asleep as only two people so deeply in tune as Rollie and I are really are.

Where Love Is

Where Love Is

By Abbot Goddard

His arms are my haven, my raiment, my god
His lips my protection from parching and thirst
His voice is the music of wandering gypsies
Joyfully searching for love unrehearsed
Each day a new challenge that sets unrelenting
A pathway uncut toward a song not yet heard
But knowing his passion and truth are worth finding
I press on where love is not a four letter word

I dig for the truth of his words like a treasure
Buried ‘neath fields and the grasses of time
His life lies remote, but I know I may find him
Like layers unsearched by the masses sublime
And so my course charts on the strangest of days
The sun has not set, and the wind has not stirred
That far off horizon in twilight I’m seeing
That one heart where love is not a four letter word
Yet beats strong where love is not a four letter word

(Written by Abbot at Michigan State University in response to an assignment for his freshmen English Composition 101 class long before he met Rollie.)

~ (This concludes the 1st story of "Postcards From the Ledge (and Other Extraordinary Folk). Next up: "Some Men Go Crazy" ~ the 2nd story in this set.

Link to "Some Men Go Crazy" . . . Here

Link to Part A of this story . . . Here


Fiction, Fictional Stories, Gay Community, Gay Couples, Gay Experience, Gay Lesbian And Bisexual, Gays, Lgbt, Short Fiction, Short Stories

Meet the author

author avatar Ken Painter
Retired Chicago public school teacher. Singer, songwriter, musician, author, & opinionated old curmudgeon. Married to my husband & living in Colorado, USA. Also a father & grandfather.

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author avatar Retired
7th Dec 2014 (#)

very very nice stories

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