Markwildyr.com,Post #255

Image Courtesyof Amazon:

 

Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah toone and all. Please enjoy the holiday season but be careful, there are a lot ofcrazies out there.

 

During this busy time of year, I’dintended to publish a repost for this week. But Layton and the white-vined parkbench he’d stumbled onto in last post prompted so many memories from yore, Icouldn’t let it go. Hope you enjoy the second story.

 

* * * *

ANARMY BRAT AND A WHITE-VINED PARK BENCH

My name’s Layton Dunelton, andI’m one confused son of a gun. An army brat, I had traveled blamed near allover the world by the time I reached age eighteen. But I’d never seen anythinglike what I saw when I arrived at Harthbrow Academy for my senior year in highschool. It started off last Monday after school was over for the day. I’m ahiker—and a loner, by the way—and went to this park near my house after I’dseen some graffiti in the boy’s room about a white park bench.

Don’t know if I was lookingfor that bench or not, but I spotted it in a little secluded glen screened fromthe rest of the park by some trees. All the message said was, “Meet you at thewhite vine tonight at eight.” Anyway, my curiosity got the better of me, and Isat at another bench not far away. Dunno why, wasn’t anywhere close to eighto’clock. Heck, it was the middle of the afternoon. And I didn’t even know whenthe note was put on the wall.

But I figured things out rightfast when a guy sat down on the white bench and got picked up by another guy. Lookedlike college students. They moved back in the trees and started making out. Guessthey were too involved in what they were doing to notice me, but I sure got aneyeful when one dropped his britches. They left before things got too heatedup, heading for somewhere more private, I guess. But as they left, one of them,a really handsome guy with dark, curly hair noticed me and gave me a grin and athumbs-up behind his buddy’s back.

What was even stranger was I’dnever even thought about fooling around with guys, but what I’d seen about setme on fire. I even went back at eight that night to see if anyone answered thenote, but nobody showed, and I felt creepy sitting in the dark watching thatempty, white-vined park bench.

I tried not to give the parkmuch thought the rest of the week, but the following Monday afternoon, I wentto the head and saw that graffiti again. Somebody’d added the word “Wow!” belowit. That’s all it took to start my imagination racing again, so I left schoolafter last class and headed straight for the park.

Once I got there, I wondered whatthe hell I was doing. There were some kids playing a ball game way down thegreen, but nobody was at the path running in front of the white bench. Or onthe other bench farther back in the trees where I’d watched last Monday.

On impulse, I sat down on thewhite bench and spread my legs like I’d seen the guy do the other day. But as soonas I saw someone approaching, I closed them like I needed to protect my manhoodor something.

After a few uncomfortableminutes, I decided sitting on this hookup bench and spreading my legs to bait atrap wasn’t for me. I stood to leave, but froze when I saw that samedark-headed college kid striding this way on long, athletic legs. Panicked, Ididn’t know whether to sit down or run away. And I had to do one or the otherbecause my knees went weak.

When I saw him turn his headto look at two girls walking down the path on the other side of the green, Iwhipped around the bench and took refuge on the other seat deeper in the trees.Maybe he wouldn’t notice me. Like last time.

I sat still as a marble statueas he approached the white bench. Was he going to sit down? Was he meeting hisfriend again? Would I see them move deeper in the trees and drop their trousers?Would….

Upon reaching the white bench,he stretched languidly, hiking his short shirt up and giving me a flash ofbrown midriff. Wow, he was built. Athletic, I mean. Not like a wrestler; morelike a runner or a swimmer. Long, hard muscles.

I saw the instant he spottedme. He paused, flashed a smile… and headed my way. My insides shriveled. God!Would he recognize me as the peeping Tom kid? Before I had time to react, hestood in front of me.

“Hello. Wondered if I’d seeyou again.”

Oh, crap! He recognized me.

“I came back a couple of timeslast week hoping I’d see you,” he went on.

He wanted to see me?

He indicated the bench. “Mindif I join you?”

“Y-yeah, sure.” Crap, I probablysounded like a ten-year-old.

He sat beside me on the smallbench with our thighs touching… scorching my flesh.

He offered a hand. “My name’sKen.”

“Uh….” I verbally stumbled asI accepted his firm grip. Seemed like there was heat in that touch too. “Layton.”

“Good to meet you, Layton.”

“W-why did you want to see me?”Gee, he must think I stuttered.

“Wanted to get your take onwhat you saw Monday.”

 

*.*.*.*.

Uh-oh, is thecollege guy fishing around to see what Layton saw a week ago? Should Laytonconfess he’d gotten an eyeful or play dumb? Would Ken be pissed if he’d seentoo much? College boy had been dogged about finding Layton again. What did hewant? To make sure the kid kept his mouth shut? Or maybe something else. Let’ssee next post.

 

JMSBooks hascontracted with me for another short story anthology for publication inFebruary of next year. This one is a series of related stories about CurtHuntinghawk and his running buddy Grover Whitedeer. It’s called Huntinghawk,An Anthology. Let you know when I get a firm publication date.

 

My contactinformation is provided below in case anyone wants to drop me a line:

Website and blog: markwildyr.com

Email:markwildyr@aol.com

Facebook:www.facebook.com/mark.wildyr

X: @markwildyr

Now mymantra: Keep on reading. Keep on writing.You have something to say, so say it! (Don Travis keeps reminding me I stole it from him, but he didn’tcopyright it. His bad.)

 

See you later.

 

 

Mark

 

New posts the first and third Thursday of the month at6:00 a.m., US Mountain time.