On Archimedes Street Read Online Free PDF Page A

shaped. The golden hair on the forearms was an erotic touchstone for him. He imagined being in those same arms but facing his caresser. The friction was becoming increasingly titillating.
    Frenchy was hard, and he was sure Dutch could see. But he didn’t care. It was like jacking off, but with full-body strokes. He didn’t even need to scrunch his legs. They were moving the stick for him. He let himself relax into the delicious sensation, grateful Flip couldn’t see the front of his pants. Dutch was sneering at him, a glint in his eye. He looked down at Frenchy’s crotch.
    “Faster, Flip! ‘O, most wicked speed to post; O, most wicked speed to post….’”
    Dutch’s gaze was evilly on his. If they kept it up, he was going to come, and Dutch, and only Dutch, knew it. Damn him. Dutch angled himself so Frenchy’s crotch lightly brushed Dutch’s hard thigh. This tiny bit of extra friction was going to send him over the top. Frenchy kept his eyes open, but they were glazed and unseeing. “O, most wicked speed to post; O, most wicked speed to post…” again and again and again. His nipples were erect and almost painfully sensitive, and his heart raced against the hand on his chest. He finally couldn’t help himself. He realized he was about to come, and he tried to hide it by making his body rigid as he shot. Dutch smirked. His senses returned. Now Dutch will stop and step away, letting Say-Say and Thor see the hard evidence of my humiliation. I hate you, Dutch.
    But Dutch didn’t. He kept up the “O, most wicked speed to post” until the friction against the cloth became painful and his erection wilted.
    Dutch looked down with a knowing expression on his face. “Ooooo-kay! That’s enough!” He leaned down and whispered into Frenchy’s ear. “Got you good, you little sissy.”
    Thor picked him up off the pegs and set him on the ground.
    He had to make a dash for his garçonnière before everything became obvious. “I feel dizzy. I’m gonna lie down.”
    “Frenchy, are you okay?” Say-Say called after him worriedly. Ever since the leukemia, she’d fretted over the health of the neighbor boy, the child of her best friend. What a time poor Paule had had of it! But Frenchy was already gone.
    Later, as Flip was leaving, he stopped to thank his hostess. What she told him shocked and unsettled him.
    “He’s always been this way. Notional. Gets these wild ideas. But he’s so good, really. Just has an oddball sense of humor. He needs a friend, Flip. He really likes you; I can tell. Will you give him a chance? If you knew him, you’d know that he’s made out of glass. Don’t break him, please. Please, don’t break my beautiful son.”
    Flip didn’t know what to say or think.

Chapter 2
     
     
    E D HAD hit bottom. Sleeping rough in a French Quarter alley had not been a good idea, nor had getting so drunk he’d puked all over himself. Officer Ratto had made it plain that Ed had to get the fuck out of Orleans Parish and stay the fuck out.
    Thank God he’d been covered in his own puke when he was put in the drunk tank, because that had saved his ass from getting raped. Not that the drunk tank had been full of leering slobs with steel teeth like in jail flicks. Just sorry-ass, dejected losers like himself, or maybe much older versions of himself. It had been enough to scare him sober.
    He felt better now. Showered, shaved, fed, and clothed courtesy of the Little Sisters of the Poor, he stopped to pray at Saint Aloysius. As he knelt and bowed his head, he thrashed it out with God and the saints, rehearsing every turn and decision that had brought him to this sorry pass. Every one of those turns had been correct, he now saw—clearing out his bank account, leaving by night, ditching his car, and cutting up his driver’s license—each the logical and inevitable result of that first wrong turn—refusing to confront his precocious sixteen-year-old accuser. “But who would have taken my word over the word of