Turning Idolator - Chapter 5

Chapter Five: Pink, White, Green and Charlotte

It was a glorious day. Old women and fags would agree. There was dancing light on the rooves and weathercocks; and a shimmering ripple out to sea. Commercial Street was in its late afternoon mode, with well toned strollers, rippling muscles and perfect tans. These were much admired by the aging queens on the verandah of the White Swan Hotel as they lifted their Martinis in tribute to the parade of flesh. They were not alone in their grandstanding. Sprakie was perched across the street on the Porch of the Pink Swallow Inn. Asleep on the porch was Charlotte, a very ancient Sheepdog, the prize of the Pink Swallow's owners. Charlotte was rarely awake these days, sleeping between meals and grunting to those well wishers who patted his belly in humble homage. Sprakie woke the creature and held its head in his lap, giving it a powerful scrubbing.

"What a beautiful, shirts off day, in the neighborhood," he said scratching Charlotte's nose. "Oh, you old thing. How many teasers have you seen on this porch throughout the years? How much funsies over there in the corner? How many drunks puking in the fuchsias? Oh, you old tired thing. I guess we all get there some day; but not Sprakie. But look at the old trolls on the porch at the White Swan."

Sprakie stood and caught their eyes. He waved.

"Hi senior citizens! Pinkies up. Martinis down. If you like me, I'm yours. In your dreams - cattle!"

A particularly fine young specimen walked down Commercial Street with his girlfriend clutching his arm.

"Ooo, look at Mr. No-underwear," said Sprakie to no one in particular. "Mmmm. MMMM. Leaves nothing to the imagination. Woah! What's he doing with Miss Barbie doll? Such a waste of man-flesh! These breeders shouldn't come and flaunt their wares at this end of the street. That's it, sweetie; hold on to your man. Ah! Look the White Swan guys stop and look. Now what do we have here?"

Another couple passed in the opposite direct.

"You're a cute one. Do you come here often? Hands-hands - I know where those hands have been - And those lips are meant for more than sucking up the frappes."

Sprakie continued to flirt with all the boyz passing on Commercial Street. The White Swan crowd hung over the railings to see the spectacular parade. There was a large crowd of nimble men coming from the Boatslip Lounge.

"The T-Dance must be getting out," said Sprakie. "Look at the bevy coming this way."

This bevy included Phil, who strolled up the stairs and sat next to Charlotte.

"Philip dearest," said Sprakie, "couldn't find Green Shorts-Guy?"

"Didn't look," said Phil.

"Didn't look? Mama didn't bring you up like that. Where were you? Old man Tom left here a while ago. I guess he's in search of rejuvenation cream. Come tell Mama where you were."

"I walked down to the Coast Guard station," said Phil.

"Always love a man in uniform! And they're such hunks down there. And don't believe that they're all straight. Why else do you think they got stationed in P'Town. I mean, how many straight bars are in this village, missy. There isn't even one for the heterosexual fag-gawkers that come every Saturday to report home about 'those queers holding hands in public, you'd never believe.'"

Sprakie did not notice any change in Phil's spirits, so he spun around and jumped off the porch, scaring Charlotte into rolling over.

"Really," said Sprakie, "it fries my ass to be a museum piece for a batch of tourists who come for nothing but to see how the other 10% live. Then, they really don't see what they could be seeing. I mean, when you go to the zoo, you see the mating habits of the lions. We should conduct a Trollop tour though the town and include a view - under the boardwalk. Can you imagine, Jesus Marie."

"Ladies and Gentleman," he said with very dignified British accent, "on your right is the famous Boatslip Lounge, where the fags come and dance each afternoon and arrange for after hour fucking. Then, I direct your attention to the left, where we have a prime example of the sexual proclivity of the modern hamosexual; in this case an average orghee of five men. I refer you to your tour guide, match the picktures to the appropriate sexuel act and you will soon see the importance of this life-style" (yeech) "in keeping the population explosion in check! Videos are available at the trolley stop."

Phil chuckled. Sprakie gave him a hug.

"See hon, you can laugh in the face of adversity. And look, the queens at the White Swan are looking at us. Wave to them."

They both waved.

"It's good for their old spirit," said Sprakie, "these ancient members of our species. But, I ask you; when Tom winds up on the porch of the White Swan, will you be still here waving to him from the porch of the Pink Swallow."

"That's not funny or fair," said Phil.

"But true. Hon, it's not working out. You know it. You're a free spirit. You're like me."

"I'm not like you. Who could bear two of you?"

"I'll take that as a compliment," said Sprakie, "I mean, we enjoy life, sex, showing off and a need for variety. Tom is nice - I can't deny that - but, he's so set in his ways and inflexible. I mean, doesn't sex with just one man get boring?"

"I've never had bad sex with Tom," said Phil. "But what aggravates me is his constant attention to improving me. I mean I like that, but I can't constantly hear it."

"Never try to live your life to someone else's expectations. If we did that, we'd all still be in the closet."

"Well, I love the man," said Phil.

"You really, really like him, you mean."

"I think it's love - but, I'm not sure what kind of love. He really pissed me off before; not over Green-Shorts Guy. He accused me of looking at him as a replacement for my father."

"Well, there could be some truth to that," said Sprakie.

"I know; and that's what's making me afraid. I would never sleep with my father."

"I'm gonna puke here. Listen, Sprakie is about to tell you something really important. You are looking at this relationship subject through heterosexual eyes. You can have a relationship - but you know it must be open. We don't have marriage. We don't have babies and college educations to worry about. We just need to be sexually compatible and be able to respect each other; and maybe be within a light year of each other's age."

"It all comes back to that," said Phil. "It never bothered me until now."

Flo came onto the porch. Charlotte stirred and moved to a different corner.

"Sush!" said Sprakie. "Here's Creepyman."

"I can't stand him," said Phil. "He's always around us. He comes to the apartment in the middle of the night; and Tom always lets him in; and Flo talks to the wee hours of the morning."

"Well," said Sprakie loud and nelly, "my dearest sister, I think that you need to lie down, now that the room is vermin free."

Phil shook his head, kissed Sprakie and took his suggestion being only too happy to be somewhere else away from Flo.

"Hey, Florian," said Sprakie, "did you see the old queens on the porch of the White Swan. It's cocktail hour. You don't want to miss it do you?"

"Can't you be civil?" said Flo.

"Wait," said Sprakie seeing a particularly lovely man with glistening muscles and a tight tee-shirt and shorts. "Pinch my ass with a lobster, look at that basket. I could slobber on that in a flash."

They both oogled together. While they were thus focused, Tom returned. With him, in tow was another man, an equally beautiful sight to behold, who was even better formed and wore green shorts. Flo and Sprakie's jaws dropped to see Tom.

"Well Thomas Dye," said Sprakie putting on a Southern drawl, "you shouldn't have?"

"I haven't!" said Tom. "He's not yours."

"Tee," said Flo, "what's the meaning of this?"

"Well," said Sprakie, "don't be rude, introduce us to this god in green shorts."

"Oh, Arthur . . ." said Tom.

"Alan," corrected Green Shorts Guy.

"Sorry, Alan this is Sprakie and my friend, Florian."

Sprakie kissed Alan’s hand.

"What a pleasure," said Sprakie. "Y'all come over here and sip a bit of cognac with us girls, before you retire for the evenin'. You say no. Aw, what a pity; and I do so like gentleman callers, don't you Floiran, honey."

"Cut the shit, Sprakie," said Tom. "He's always clowning around."

Sprakie took Green Shorts Guy around the waist and managed to get his hands around his crotch.

"Why, why what do we have here? A basket of fine fruits, ripe for the pickin' and plump for the stuffin'."

"Arthur . . ." said Tom.

"Alan," corrected Green Shorts Guy.

"I mean Alan, why don't you wait for me in the foyer."

With Arthur/Alan out of the way, Flo got seriously miffed.

"Tee you're an asshole and no better than they are. And, by the way, Phil is in the room, so you probably better go off under the boardwalk."

"Oh, good," said Tom. "I didn't bring him back for me."

"Oh, you liberal sweetheart," said Sprakie. "You brought a truce gift for Phil."

"No, Green Shorts Guy . ."

"Arthur . . . " said Sprakie.

"Alan," said Flo.

"Whatever, he's for Phil and I. I have been too stuffy and traditional. I haven't allowed him any variety or any for myself; and who the fuck am I to allow or disallow anything. So, this bit of flesh is not a gift. He's something for us to share. So, if you guys wouldn't mind staying away from us for the rest of the day, I'd take it as a personal kindness."

Tom entered the Inn leaving Sprakie unusually quiet and Flo generally sulky.

"I can't believe this," said Flo.

"What can't you believe! Eh, creepy guy."

"Stop calling me that!"

"Well you're creepy. You're always lurking around and bothering Tom."

"You mean, bothering you and Phil," said Flo. "Tom and I have been friends for years. We lived together."

"You did - and you haven't ever gotten used to him living with someone else."

"Look who's talking. You miss your little Phil, just as much."

"Just as much," said Sprakie. "You admit it then."

They came face to face.

"That I loved Tom?" said Flo. "I'll admit that."

"Loved? Love - present tense," said Sprakie.

"I'll admit that too - and you should admit you love Phil."

"Please. I can have any man on earth for a wink."

"Any man, but one!"

Sprakie, caught by surprise, was genuinely upset, his cheeks flaring red with anger.

"You bastard. You shouldn't fuck around in territory you don't know."

"But I do know," said Flo, "you're fucking around in the same territory. We're fucking around together."

"Jesus Marie."

"Stop with the Jesus Marie already. I hate when you say it."

"Jesus Marie! Jesus Marie! Jesus Marie!"

Flo violently grabbed Sprakie.

"I'll fucking rip your head off, you little bitchy slut."

"Oh," said Sprakie running around the porch, "The man's physical. Help me, oh Help me. Maybe someone at the White Swan can come over and take you on. Maybe one of the older ones. Jesus Marie."

Flo caught Sprakie and shook him to the ground. There they wrestle, first Flo on top, then Sprakie, then Flo . . in any event, Charlotte moved again. Then Sprakie broke free and ran to a corner of the porch. Flo caught him again. Once in his clutches, their violence struck the core and wrestling turned to kissing and passionate embraces. They slide downward out of view as pants dropped and hands groped. The White Swan crowd nearly fell off the railing. One even ran to get his camera.

"You see," said Flo making his first ascent, "you can get any man in the world for a wink."

"Jesus Marie!!"

Next Chapter

Turning Idolator

		Chapter Five: Pink, White, Green and Charlotte It was a glorious day. Old women and fags would agree. There was dancing light on the rooves and weathercocks; and a shimmering ripple out to sea. Commercial Street was in its late afternoon mode, with well toned strollers, rippling muscles and perfect tans. These were much admired by the aging queens on the verandah of the White Swan Hotel as they lifted their Martinis in tribute to the parade of flesh. They were not alone in their grandstanding. Sprakie was perched across the street on the Porch of the Pink Swallow Inn. Asleep on the porch was Charlotte, a very ancient Sheepdog, the prize of the Pink Swallow's owners. Charlotte was rarely awake these days, sleeping between meals and grunting to those well wishers who patted his belly in humble homage. Sprakie woke the creature and held its head in his lap, giving it a powerful scrubbing. "What a beautiful, shirts off day, in the neighborhood," he said scratching Charlotte's nose. "Oh, you old thing. How many teasers have you seen on this porch throughout the years? How much funsies over there in the corner? How many drunks puking in the fuchsias? Oh, you old tired thing. I guess we all get there some day; but not Sprakie. But look at the old trolls on the porch at the White Swan." Sprakie stood and caught their eyes. He waved. "Hi senior citizens! Pinkies up. Martinis down. If you like me, I'm yours. In your dreams - cattle!" A particularly fine young specimen walked down Commercial Street with his girlfriend clutching his arm. "Ooo, look at Mr. No-underwear," said Sprakie to no one in particular. "Mmmm. MMMM. Leaves nothing to the imagination. Woah! What's he doing with Miss Barbie doll? Such a waste of man-flesh! These breeders shouldn't come and flaunt their wares at this end of the street. That's it, sweetie; hold on to your man. Ah! Look the White Swan guys stop and look. Now what do we have here?" Another couple passed in the opposite direct. "You're a cute one. Do you come here often? Hands-hands - I know where those hands have been - And those lips are meant for more than sucking up the frappes." Sprakie continued to flirt with all the boyz passing on Commercial Street. The White Swan crowd hung over the railings to see the spectacular parade. There was a large crowd of nimble men coming from the Boatslip Lounge. "The T-Dance must be getting out," said Sprakie. "Look at the bevy coming this way." This bevy included Phil, who strolled up the stairs and sat next to Charlotte. "Philip dearest," said Sprakie, "couldn't find Green Shorts-Guy?" "Didn't look," said Phil. "Didn't look? Mama didn't bring you up like that. Where were you? Old man Tom left here a while ago. I guess he's in search of rejuvenation cream. Come tell Mama where you were." "I walked down to the Coast Guard station," said Phil. "Always love a man in uniform! And they're such hunks down there. And don't believe that they're all straight. Why else do you think they got stationed in P'Town. I mean, how many straight bars are in this village, missy. There isn't even one for the heterosexual fag-gawkers that come every Saturday to report home about 'those queers holding hands in public, you'd never believe.'" Sprakie did not notice any change in Phil's spirits, so he spun around and jumped off the porch, scaring Charlotte into rolling over. "Really," said Sprakie, "it fries my ass to be a museum piece for a batch of tourists who come for nothing but to see how the other 10% live. Then, they really don't see what they could be seeing. I mean, when you go to the zoo, you see the mating habits of the lions. We should conduct a Trollop tour though the town and include a view - under the boardwalk. Can you imagine, Jesus Marie." "Ladies and Gentleman," he said with very dignified British accent, "on your right is the famous Boatslip Lounge, where the fags come and dance each afternoon and arrange for after hour fucking. Then, I direct your attention to the left, where we have a prime example of the sexual proclivity of the modern hamosexual; in this case an average orghee of five men. I refer you to your tour guide, match the picktures to the appropriate sexuel act and you will soon see the importance of this life-style" (yeech) "in keeping the population explosion in check! Videos are available at the trolley stop." Phil chuckled. Sprakie gave him a hug. "See hon, you can laugh in the face of adversity. And look, the queens at the White Swan are looking at us. Wave to them." They both waved. "It's good for their old spirit," said Sprakie, "these ancient members of our species. But, I ask you; when Tom winds up on the porch of the White Swan, will you be still here waving to him from the porch of the Pink Swallow." "That's not funny or fair," said Phil. "But true. Hon, it's not working out. You know it. You're a free spirit. You're like me." "I'm not like you. Who could bear two of you?" "I'll take that as a compliment," said Sprakie, "I mean, we enjoy life, sex, showing off and a need for variety. Tom is nice - I can't deny that - but, he's so set in his ways and inflexible. I mean, doesn't sex with just one man get boring?" "I've never had bad sex with Tom," said Phil. "But what aggravates me is his constant attention to improving me. I mean I like that, but I can't constantly hear it." "Never try to live your life to someone else's expectations. If we did that, we'd all still be in the closet." "Well, I love the man," said Phil. "You really, really like him, you mean." "I think it's love - but, I'm not sure what kind of love. He really pissed me off before; not over Green-Shorts Guy. He accused me of looking at him as a replacement for my father." "Well, there could be some truth to that," said Sprakie. "I know; and that's what's making me afraid. I would never sleep with my father." "I'm gonna puke here. Listen, Sprakie is about to tell you something really important. You are looking at this relationship subject through heterosexual eyes. You can have a relationship - but you know it must be open. We don't have marriage. We don't have babies and college educations to worry about. We just need to be sexually compatible and be able to respect each other; and maybe be within a light year of each other's age." "It all comes back to that," said Phil. "It never bothered me until now." Flo came onto the porch. Charlotte stirred and moved to a different corner. "Sush!" said Sprakie. "Here's Creepyman." "I can't stand him," said Phil. "He's always around us. He comes to the apartment in the middle of the night; and Tom always lets him in; and Flo talks to the wee hours of the morning." "Well," said Sprakie loud and nelly, "my dearest sister, I think that you need to lie down, now that the room is vermin free." Phil shook his head, kissed Sprakie and took his suggestion being only too happy to be somewhere else away from Flo. "Hey, Florian," said Sprakie, "did you see the old queens on the porch of the White Swan. It's cocktail hour. You don't want to miss it do you?" "Can't you be civil?" said Flo. "Wait," said Sprakie seeing a particularly lovely man with glistening muscles and a tight tee-shirt and shorts. "Pinch my ass with a lobster, look at that basket. I could slobber on that in a flash." They both oogled together. While they were thus focused, Tom returned. With him, in tow was another man, an equally beautiful sight to behold, who was even better formed and wore green shorts. Flo and Sprakie's jaws dropped to see Tom. "Well Thomas Dye," said Sprakie putting on a Southern drawl, "you shouldn't have?" "I haven't!" said Tom. "He's not yours." "Tee," said Flo, "what's the meaning of this?" "Well," said Sprakie, "don't be rude, introduce us to this god in green shorts." "Oh, Arthur . . ." said Tom. "Alan," corrected Green Shorts Guy. "Sorry, Alan this is Sprakie and my friend, Florian." Sprakie kissed Alan’s hand. "What a pleasure," said Sprakie. "Y'all come over here and sip a bit of cognac with us girls, before you retire for the evenin'. You say no. Aw, what a pity; and I do so like gentleman callers, don't you Floiran, honey." "Cut the shit, Sprakie," said Tom. "He's always clowning around." Sprakie took Green Shorts Guy around the waist and managed to get his hands around his crotch. "Why, why what do we have here? A basket of fine fruits, ripe for the pickin' and plump for the stuffin'." "Arthur . . ." said Tom. "Alan," corrected Green Shorts Guy. "I mean Alan, why don't you wait for me in the foyer." With Arthur/Alan out of the way, Flo got seriously miffed. "Tee you're an asshole and no better than they are. And, by the way, Phil is in the room, so you probably better go off under the boardwalk." "Oh, good," said Tom. "I didn't bring him back for me." "Oh, you liberal sweetheart," said Sprakie. "You brought a truce gift for Phil." "No, Green Shorts Guy . ." "Arthur . . . " said Sprakie. "Alan," said Flo. "Whatever, he's for Phil and I. I have been too stuffy and traditional. I haven't allowed him any variety or any for myself; and who the fuck am I to allow or disallow anything. So, this bit of flesh is not a gift. He's something for us to share. So, if you guys wouldn't mind staying away from us for the rest of the day, I'd take it as a personal kindness." Tom entered the Inn leaving Sprakie unusually quiet and Flo generally sulky. "I can't believe this," said Flo. "What can't you believe! Eh, creepy guy." "Stop calling me that!" "Well you're creepy. You're always lurking around and bothering Tom." "You mean, bothering you and Phil," said Flo. "Tom and I have been friends for years. We lived together." "You did - and you haven't ever gotten used to him living with someone else." "Look who's talking. You miss your little Phil, just as much." "Just as much," said Sprakie. "You admit it then." They came face to face. "That I loved Tom?" said Flo. "I'll admit that." "Loved? Love - present tense," said Sprakie. "I'll admit that too - and you should admit you love Phil." "Please. I can have any man on earth for a wink." "Any man, but one!" Sprakie, caught by surprise, was genuinely upset, his cheeks flaring red with anger. "You bastard. You shouldn't fuck around in territory you don't know." "But I do know," said Flo, "you're fucking around in the same territory. We're fucking around together." "Jesus Marie." "Stop with the Jesus Marie already. I hate when you say it." "Jesus Marie! Jesus Marie! Jesus Marie!" Flo violently grabbed Sprakie. "I'll fucking rip your head off, you little bitchy slut." "Oh," said Sprakie running around the porch, "The man's physical. Help me, oh Help me. Maybe someone at the White Swan can come over and take you on. Maybe one of the older ones. Jesus Marie." Flo caught Sprakie and shook him to the ground. There they wrestle, first Flo on top, then Sprakie, then Flo . . in any event, Charlotte moved again. Then Sprakie broke free and ran to a corner of the porch. Flo caught him again. Once in his clutches, their violence struck the core and wrestling turned to kissing and passionate embraces. They slide downward out of view as pants dropped and hands groped. The White Swan crowd nearly fell off the railing. One even ran to get his camera. "You see," said Flo making his first ascent, "you can get any man in the world for a wink." "Jesus Marie!!" Next Chapter