Historic Costumes

I smiled, remembering when I was the same way once myself. Before my years with men that taught me the way of us ... of men like myself. Like, Scotty. Still smiling, I placed my ale on the table and stood in front of him.

"It's alright. I don't mind shy uncertainty. So long as you're sure of yourself. Sure of what you want." I bit my lip imagining what he would look like in bed, that boyish face with wise eyes. "Do you know what you want, Scotty?"

"You."

"You're sure? I'm too flattered to ..."

Then he was kissing me.

Normally I expect hesitant kisses that become more assured, but he did the reverse. He grabbed me, kissed me, and then began to slack off like he was embarrassed by his own impulsiveness. I caught him before he could stop and kissed him back, showing him without words that I was more than willing to feel his lips on mine.

His hands on me.

We stumbled then, me hitting my hip on the table, sending a cascade of empty bottles rolling. I laughed at his eagerness now that he was receiving a confident response from me.

"Bedroom?" He began to pull me, making me laugh even harder. "Easy. There is no rush; I'm not going to run off and leave you, Scotty. I never leave the feast early."

His bedroom was what I would expect from a man his age. A mess. But then I can't say mine, at the moment, is any better for my dozen more years on this earth. But then, I didn't come here for the décor. And it really didn't distract me from the man doing his best to pull me out my clothes, kiss me, and get me directed onto his bed all at the same time.

I grinned at his eagerness, something I hadn't encountered since I was about his age myself. With a laugh, I tumbled onto the mattress him on top of me.

Okay, alright. He wants to play like this, we can play like this.

The next few minutes were a laughing wrestle to see who was not so much stronger, but less willing to give in. Sitting up a bit, I slid my pants off under my hips and then went to work tugging at his jeans. I ignored a whimper-like sound when his cock popped free and I took it in my hand, giving him a squeeze.

Then it was I who I nearly jumped out my skin when I felt his hand touch my stomach and move south. Where his hunting fingers found and then closed around my cock I couldn't help the moan. My mouth covered his, seeking again that soft feisty tongue that I so hoped was going to feel just as wonderful in other uses than just kissing. Not that it was bad when used to make these kisses all the hotter.

Then he was whispering by my ear, asking me if I enjoyed this and that. If I didn't like something he promised not to try and talk me into do it.

Silly boy, I was born in that briar patch.

Turning around, I laid down beside him, pulling Scotty to me when he turned on his side. I took his cock into my mouth, feeling him placing kisses on the head of mine at the same time. Then as I felt the warmth of his mouth sliding down me I let my mouth do the same. Feeling the soft veins compressing under my lips and the warm head brushing the top of my mouth I sucked on him.

Taking him as a little deeper I began a slow massage, hoping to encourage him in the same direction. I could have chuckled at the ferocity with which he went after me. A starving man presented with food wouldn't stuff his mouth faster.

Or choke as quickly.

He finally got the idea after that. And I settled in to make him appreciate the slow approach. To take your time and savor what the warmth, taste, and silky texture sliding over your tongue can do for your own pleasure. I placed a hand on his ass and pulled him to me making him give a little hunch of his hips that I then mimicked.

He startled me with a finger caressing my pucker, but I can't say I minded. And he moaned a hot breathe down the length of me when I ran my thumb across his wrinkled rose. Soft teasing.

Scotty pulled his mouth from me. "Gene? There is lube and condoms in the drawer there. Please?"

I nodded, released his cock and patted his ass--just hard enough to be called a spank--as I slid out of the bed. I took the time to get the last of my clothes off. God damn, trying to fuck in socks. I opened the drawer and grinned to find a bottle of Gun Oil lube, laying on its side between two butt plugs and a box of gold-wrapper Durex.

I enjoyed his eyes on me as I was rolling the condom down me, then I was knee walking back onto the bed next to him. I straddled his thighs and looked down at his blond-down covered ass cheeks. I enjoying the way his lower back dimples, and the nice play of those trim muscles along his spine, as he shifted a bit under me. Pulling his cheek open, I let a few drops of the Gun Oil drop on his asshole. I put a good dollop on the head of me, on top of the condom's reservoir, then set the bottle aside.

Scotty wiggled under me when I placed myself over him, eager for me. I felt the divot under the head of me when I moved and knew I was right where I wanted to be.

"Are you going to sing for me, Scotty?"

"Oh, god yes." He moaned as I pushed into him.

"Good, let me hear you. I like that."

Angling myself up with thrusts of my hips, I let the end of me caress along his prostate, trying to show this overeager young man that it doesn't have to be balls deep and last to the finish line takes the booby prize. Long slow strokes, about half my length, letting the head give him pleasure even as I enjoyed the tight muscle contractions pulsing around me.

And oh, how he began to sing for me. Low throaty moans, little pleas for more, little begging cries when I gave him that. I let my weight rest on him more and more, till my chest was sliding along his back.

"Gene ..."

"Yes, lover?"

"I ... I ...."

With a grin, I let my fingers tangle in his hair and lifted his head from the pillow pulling him to me, making him gasp. "I know. Let it build. There is no rush, let it build."

Scotty clawed at the sheets bunching them in his fingers. Then he had pulled the fitted sheet loose and was digging his hands into the pillow top mattress; low moans began to give way to a sharper cries as I was fucking him with harder pops of my hips. Driving myself now towards my own need to cum, even as I felt Scotty getting closer and closer to his own.

I suddenly felt I had guided him along long enough. With a buck of my hips, I made him cry out my name. Whether he meant it as a plea to be more gentle, or a begging cry to fuck him harder, I didn't know or even really care at that second.

I felt all my air pulled from my chest and then I heard the sound I was making, echoed as I felt his whole body locked up under me. There was a total demand, from even the smallest cell in me, to not allow a second of this feeling pass by unnoticed. I felt spasm after spasm shoot cum from my cock into Scotty. He was crying under me, panting for air, and then he dropped boneless to the bed, simply exhausted and craving air.

I rested on him for a moment then slid to the side to lie panting.

"I ... I came," he said with a wonder that was comical. "I've never done that like that before. I've always had to finish myself off after my partner has cum in me."

I looked at him for a moment. "Then you have been with either some inexperienced or more likely, some completely shitty guys then." I took his hand, closing my fingers into his. "The topbottom cum at the same time. I promise you if you had cum first, I would have stopped. And if I had come first I would have made sure you got off. That's some twisted crap."

He nodded, then took a deep breath. "Want another beer?"

"Yeah. That would be nice. But you know what? I think it's breakfast time more than drinking time. How about we get a shower, then go get something to eat. Then maybe come back here, get seem sleep, and possibly do this again before I have to go to work, and you have to go to the play?"

"That sounds like a wonderful plan. But I still want that beer."

"Yeah." I took my own deep, lung-expanding breath, "Me, too."

** ** ** ** ** ** **

There was a very high probability that I would murder my tailor, slash assistant, Julian before Halloween night was over. Very, very high. He somehow could tell by looking at me that I had gotten laid, and from that point on him and his, too-smart-for-its-own-fuckin'-good, phone had become a nuisance.

First, it was '70s porn music. Very bad porn music. Then he got really creative.

~"Rollin' Rollin' Rollin' Though the streams are swollen ..."~

"JULIAN! Enough!"

With a chuckle, he went into the back for more fabric. But I knew it wasn't over. This was going to be a very long night here in my shop. I picked up on cutting shears, muttering under my breath. "Maybe I could make him into a Jack-o-Lantern and stick him out front."

"Hey, Gene has you seen any ... latex tubing? I'm sure we had some around here somewhere."

Yep. Murder most foul.

"I'll be out in fifteen with good behavior. And what the hell, the sex is too my taste anyway." I spun my scissors on my thumb. My phone buzzed saving a tailor's life.

[I'm in trouble, Gene]

Seeing Scotty's text, I flipped up the screen to get at my keypad.

{I wore a condom, It's not mine I swear}

The phone buzzed almost immediately.

[Funny. I've lost my voice!]

{Damn ...}

[Yeah]

I sat back in my chair, blinking. What could I do? I don't know any miracle cure for laryngitis. I began to tap the plastic handle of my scissors on my lips, an old habit of mine. I must have looked seriously worried because Julian walked in, with something no doubt witty to say, and stopped dead in his tracks.

"What's up?" He set down a bolt of blue crush velvet.

I held up the phone. "Scotty lost his voice." I shook my head. "The guy I was with last night and this morning. He is in a play and he has the lead, but now he has no voice. What the hell can I do about that?"

"Well, if I was still kidding with you, I would mention the vocal benefits rumors of semen, but you look too serious for that."

My phone buzzed.

[Gene?]

{I'm here. Thinking}

[Explains the smell of smoke.]

{Lol. What can I do to help?}

The phone sat silent for a moment.

[Come to the theater. Don't want to face director alone]

I swallowed, letting my brain focus on the emotions behind such a plea and trying to figure what they could mean for me long term.

{Sure}

[BTRN 10]

"Okay, I don't know this text," I said puzzled, I began to type back asking.

Julian looked over my shoulder and translated it from text geek to Ren Faire geek. "Be there in ten. Basically, he's not too far away and coming here. Damn, he must have heard the same rumors I have."

I gave him a look that nearly set off the sprinklers.

Chuckling, he went back to his workstation.

"He wants me to go to the theater with him so he doesn't have to face the director alone." Again I was tapping my scissor handles, but now I had added my patented rocking back and forth to the habitual movement. "All his friends are there, the guys we drank and partied with last night, but he wants me there."

"And that worries you?" He asked.

"A little."

Looking outside, I saw Scotty's car pull into the strip mall's parking lot. His headlights lit the front of the shop for a moment before he shut them off. Then he was out the car and coming inside before I could get my coat from off the back of my chair.

He gave Julian a wave then walked over to me, his fingers flying on his phone.

[Sorry to have to ask this, we just met, but I'm worried about the next show]

"I understand." I looked over at the man I was going to have to bury if he didn't get that smirk off his face. "Can you manage to not burn down the shop till I get back?"

"Oh, to hell with that, I'm going to see the play." At my raised hand, he pointed back at me. "We haven't had a call in an hour! People either have their costumes or have already taken them off for the night. Time to live a little, Gene."

Oh, yeah ... I am going to strangle him. There was no other choice.

I sighed.

"Let's see a play."

** ** ** ** ** ** **

"WELL, THANK CHRIST! I was beginning to wonder just what else could go wrong, and what the fuck might have happened to you too!"

"Ah, that must be Philip Ross, the director," I said behind my hand to Julian.

"So? Where the hell have you been? You have to get your makeup and costume done, and" He looked at his watch. "You just barely have time."

It was painful to watch Scotty bring his hand to his throat and then try to say a word and not a sound appear. Possibly even more painful was the look of stark terror that passed over the director's face. It was there for a second then Mr. Ross just shook himself into a spitting rage and sent his baseball cap flying across the backstage. He then kicked a prop piece that was less than movable and cussed the pain.

"JUST, FUCKIN' PERFECT!"

"Take it easy, Philip." I recognized Carol, the wardrobe director, trying to calm him down. "We will make it work."

"How will we make it work? My lead has no voice, and his only understudy is in the hospital! How, Carol? How!"

My phone buzzed at my hip. And I looked down to find it was Scotty. Looking up at him he had his phone out and was texting to me like mad. He pointed to my phone.

"Ah ... Scotty wants to know what happened to ... Eddie?"

The director gave me a looked then saw my phone in my hand and Scotty's phone in his. "Oh, that a great idea, we'll text the whole play!" He stormed off.

Carol looked at the departing back, shaking her head. Then she looked at Scotty. "Eddie wrecked his bike. He's alright but his ribs are bruised, and his wrist is broken. They are keeping him overnight. They think he could have a minor concussion."

Again my phone.

[So what are we going to do?]

I repeated that for him, but he only got a shrug for an answer. Before I could ask anything I saw Mr. Ross coming back at a stalking walk, his phone at his ear. He was having a blistering conversation with someone, hung up and started to dial again.

"I know twenty people than can sing this part and not fucking one of them will answer their god damned phones!" He made a motion like he was going to strangle his phone, then left a message, as heated as the last one.

"Gene, can sing it."

I turned around to see the premature gray Javert standing behind me. My drinking buddy from last night flashed me a grin.

"Gene? Who the fuck is Gene?" asked Philip Ross, looking at the man who was now number two on my must choke-to-death-and-bury list.

Javert pointed at me. "I heard him last night. His voice is nearly as good as Scotty's and better than Eddie's." He flashed me a grin. "Besides, he looks the part more than both of them."

Suddenly, all eyes were on me.

"You can sing the part?" Ross took a deep breath and held it like he was about to jump into cold water.

I began to frantically shake my head, even as Scotty, Julian, and Javert were all three nodding.

"No. No way I can't...."

Julian's hand appeared over my mouth!

"He sings in the shop all the time. I know I've heard him sing the entire song list from Les Misérables a dozen times, today alone. He can do it."

"He won't fit the Jean Valjean costume," said Carol, my now Most Blessed Saint Carol, savior of my life and health. "I might could put something together ... but it won't look right."

She pointed to the costume on the rolling rack nearby.

"We have a nearly identical costume in our shop," said Julian next to me, while I mouthed mumbling denials. He walked over looked at the costume and then nodded. "Yeah, I know we have this."

I did too. And I knew it would fit me. Perfectly.

Mr. Ross looked at me, let out that breath he had taken. "Fine. Get ... Gene ... into makeup."

"Wait! Wait, I ..."

My phone bussed.

[The show must go on. Please?]

I looked up at the pleading look in Scotty's eyes. Then at the half-made-up zombie faces of the rest of the cast, that had been quietly gathering to listen in to this conversation. Looking around, it was the children that did it. Those normal looking children, so happy yesterday when they rushed out into the crowd to beg for candy. Little Fantine was in costume and the look on her face broke my heart.

Who could refuse that face?

"Sure."

** ** ** ** ** ** **

"Oh, I am so going to be sick," I muttered under my breath. I looked around me at the other convicts. They were all so very cool, collective, and eager to get this show going. I alone wanted the curtain to never rise. "Oh, this was a mistake."

"Suck it up, 24601."

I looked at the hideous zombie face of Inspector Javert. He was looking at me with contempt. Then he grinned with malice. "Maybe with you playing the part I'll even get the applause, that I deserve ... 24601."

The curtain began to rise.

"My name is Jean Valjean!" I told him with a smile.

~"Look down, Look down ...'~