San Francisco
Part 13

After Spencer's amazing recital, we each grabbed a Corona and headed for the deck in the fading light of day. Bugsy was sprawled out on the redwood flooring like some expensive rug, while Spencer was telling me about the plans he had for the beach house. He was obviously a real "hands-on" dude, and loved doing all the work himself, with help from Willie. "I love working on it, Daniel. It's much more than just a house to me. It's family."

"What are you studying at college?"

"I'm in my second year as a business major."

"Oh, no! So you're gonna be a suit?"

"We're a farming family -- cotton, olives, viticulture -- so I'll mostly be in jeans and boots after I graduate. We're also a sailing family. My dad's got a 35' sloop. We often go sailing together."

"Jeez," I said, shaking my head, "you make me feel like I've got nothing worth saying."

"You're staying at the Inter-Continental, aren't you? That's pretty impressive. And you come from Florida. You've been to South Africa and Rotterdam. You met Kostik in Miami. You've got a whole bunch of cool friends. What more do you want?"

"And, besides, you're an eleven," Willie smiled with a sparkle in his eye.

"I'm just not very sophisticated."

"You're a very natural and likable person, Daniel," Spencer resumed. "That's what matters most. Sophistication can wait."

"That street you were talking about... Castro Street. What's it like?"

"Not my scene... nor Willie's. But we do go there occasionally. We've had supper a couple of times at Nirvana; a trendy noodle house with the cutest possible staff. And I mean cute! You'd get a job there in a second, Daniel."

"Serving noodles? No thanks."

"Actually, the food's great... very international. The menu is sorta Californian Burmese, with dishes like Kamikaze Steak Noodles. One of my favs. Yum! Steak Rangoon. Amazing Tiger Prawns with lemon grass."

"See what I mean? I've never even heard of stuff like that."

"And they've got this awesome Sea Bass with spicy curry... and great grilled chicken."

"You'd love it, Daniel," Willie interjected. "The cooks are mainly Latinos, and they work in an open kitchen. You can see the flames rising up from sizzling woks."

"What's a wok?"

"You mean you haven't heard of good ol' wok and woll? Just joking. It's like a frypan only bowl-shaped. It's used for Chinese-style stir-fries. Anyway, it's wicked to see all the cooking happening, and to smell all the fragrant aromas drifting around the restaurant. Gets your juices flowing the moment you walk through the door."

"Latinos cooking Chinese?"

"The owners and some of the waiters are Asian. The rest of the staff are all colors. They all wear black jeans and black ts with "Nirvana" emblazoned across the chest."

"Yeah," Spencer enthused, "Arthur's my fav. He's a fantastic bartender there... comes from Martinique... gorgeous bod and killer smile."

"Like yours?"

"Better. He's a black guy who grew up in Hawaii. Also spent some time in London and Amsterdam. Very bright dude, and charming. Slightly British accent... and fluent in several languages."

"Fuck."

"Not sure about that one."

"Huh? Oh, yeah... sorry. No, what I mean is that I'm suddenly surrounded by all this... I dunno... classy stuff. I'd feel like a total dork if I went to Nirvana."

"You wouldn't look like a dork, though," Willie chuckled. "They'd be all over you like a rash. Guaranteed."

"Don't get the wrong idea, Daniel," Spencer continued. "On Castro almost everyone you see is gay, but they represent only a small percent of the total gay population in SF. Most of us are like me and Willie, minding our business, most of the time. But if you're the type who wants to be flamboyant you can strut your stuff on Castro whenever you want."

"I saw a couple of guys like that on the streetcar this morning. Looked like they did all their fashion shopping in a fucking hardware store. They were cool guys, though."

"A lot different to Tampa, huh?" Willie smiled. "A bit of a culture shock?"

"Yeah, but it's OK. Y'know? Like an education kinda thingy. Anyway, all this talk about food's got me hungry as hell. So are we gonna go to Nirvana?"

"Not unless you want to," Spencer answered. "I can rustle up something here. Barbecued steak sound OK?"

"Cool. Maybe I can talk Pop into taking me to Nirvana before we leave SF."

"Might look a bit suss. A teen and an old guy."

"Oh... hmmm. Well, maybe you can come with us."

"Two teens and an old guy?"

"He could be our dad or something."

"Yeah, right. People's minds don't work that way, Daniel. People prefer to think the worst. We're all guilty until proven innocent. They'd automatically assume that Pop was your sugar daddy."

"No prob. I'll tell everybody that you're my sugar."

Before Spencer had gotten to his feet -- momentarily wiping the grin off my face -- I leapt off the deck and sprinted down the backyard, giggling my fucking tits off. I was doing pretty well, sidestepping him, ducking and weaving -- woohoo! -- but an excited, barking Bugsy decided to get involved in the game. The dog ran in front of me, and sent me sprawling toward the grass, where I arrived with a thud. Damn! A split second later, Spencer was sitting on the small of my back, and pinning my arms to the ground.

"What was that you said?"

"Get off me, you bully!"

"What was that about my being your sugar?"

"Pick on someone your own size!"

"Hey, Willie! You wanna pee on Daniel while he's down?"

"Sure."

I lifted my head and saw Willie's beaming face coming toward me. His right hand was unbuttoning the fly of his shorts as he walked. By the time he'd reached me, his menacing semi was dangling just a few feet above my face.

"Don't you fucking dare!"

"Why not? You pissed on me."

"So did Spencer... so piss on him!"

"Maybe I'll piss on both of you."

And with that, Spencer released his grip on me, and bolted like a startled gazelle toward the deck. Meantime, I'd managed to roll away from Willie just in time to see his stream of piss hit the grass where I'd been a prisoner only a second beforehand. Then he raised his cock to gain extra distance, but I quickly rolled further away. He was guffawing so much, his piss was snaking in all directions. Finally, as he squirted the last of his jets, he called me a wuss.

Spencer was still giggling like crazy as I arrived back at the deck. "What are you laughing at?" I demanded.

"You. You should've seen the look of sheer terror on your face, Daniel. Cracked me up totally!"

"Yeah? Well you didn't waste any time getting outa the fucking way. Anyway, two against one ain't fair. Not even one against one. You guys are bigger than me. Bullies! So what's for dinner? I'm starving."

Spencer gave me the job of peeling and slicing the onions while he and Willie prepared a salsa sauce, and steamed some small potatoes in a saucepan. Then Spencer fired up the natural gas barbecue, and oiled the hotplate in readiness for the steaks.

"What are you gonna feed Bugsy?"

"Some dry dog food mixed with a bit of fresh meat. He needs the dry food for his teeth."

"Glad I'm not a dog. Ew! I can see why you're a homebody, though, and why your buds like to hang here. This is a great house, Spencer... wicked. And it looks kinda homely and welcoming with that yellow light coming through the door and windows. I've got a bud whose dad's in real estate, and he said they often take pics of houses late in the day with the light showing through the windows. Makes 'em look more inviting to buyers."

"You haven't mentioned your dad."

"He died when I was five. I've got a neat step dad now, though, and a totally cool step bro. My step bro's Eurasian -- part Filipino on his mom's side. Awesome looking dude. He's straight, but he lets me blow him. Actually, he can't get enough."

"Isn't that kinda incestuous?" Spencer asked as a cloud of deliciously aromatic smoke rose from the hotplate after the steaks and sliced onions had begun to sizzle.

"Greg and I are not blood related. Y'know? Anyway, I was blowing him even before my mom and his dad got married. He's got the coolest bod, man. Bronze colored, with wicked definition. And a face to die for. Cute like you wouldn't believe. Hey! I'd better stop talking about him 'cause I'm getting horny as hell."

"You want a blow job?" Willie offered as he checked the tent in my shorts.

Spencer was turning the steaks when he told Willie to chill. "Dinner's almost ready, you sex maniac."

"OK, so this'll be an entree."

"Control yourself, Willie... make it dessert."

"Yeah, Willie," I agreed. "Besides, you tried to piss on me and I'm still mad at you."

"Why?" he laughed, "'cause I missed?"

"Har-de-fucking-har. Anyway, I'd better take a piss before dinner. Back in a sec."

"How come you're not gonna piss over the side of the deck?"

"'Cause Spencer's cooking. I've got manners, dude... and decorum!" :-P

"Yeah, right," Willie cracked as I disappeared into the house. "And don't forget to wash your hands!"

There was something totally lamo and uninspiring about pissing into a white, ceramic toilet bowl. It was a bit like cumming onto a tissue after jacking off. What was the point? Seemed like a waste if there was no one else there to enjoy it. Hmmm. Maybe I should have pissed over the side of the deck after all. Willie probably wanted to gawk at my semi. Oh, well, he could gawk later.

As I washed my hands, I thought about how cool it would be to own a beach house like Spencer's. The dude didn't know how lucky he was. Or maybe he did. He was the kinda guy who liked his independence, which probably explained why he enjoyed windsurfing and sailing. Just him and the elements. Freedom and space. At the same time, he liked to share his fortunate life with his friends, and enjoyed their company.

When I arrived back at the barbecue, the piping hot steaks were ready to serve, topped with salsa sauce and fried onions. The potatoes were split down the center, before a daub of sour cream, a sprinkling of chopped chives, and a dash of ground pepper were added. Three fresh bottles of Corona with wedges of lime already inserted into their necks also adorned the table.

"Wow! This is totally wicked!" I said after I'd chewed and swallowed my first mouthful. "So damn tender!" Then I noticed Bugsy giving me the evil eye.

"Don't worry about Bugsy. He'll give you the sads until you give in. Just don't give in."

"But I feel guilty eating in front of him like this."

"He knows that. Dogs ain't dumb."

"I bet if I threw this steak like I did with the stick today at the beach, he wouldn't be in such a big hurry to bring it back."

That cracked us all up big time, then we went ahead and ate our meal despite Bugsy's persistent sads.

The convo was pretty interesting as we compared notes. Not all Spencer's and Willie's friends were gay. "The most guys I've had in my bed at the one time was four," Spencer casually remarked.

"And you all had sex?"

"It kinda happens when you're all naked under the covers," he grinned, flashing that brilliant smile of his. "Some of the guys say they're bi... but, hey, they could be just making excuses. They weren't exactly shy in bed."

"Are you gay?" Willie asked of me.

"Dunno for sure. I guess I'm like you guys. Y'know... just a normal, regular guy who fucks other guys," I cracked, and sent everybody into hysterics.

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