Snow flakes swirled around the car as Aunt Mildred and Uncle Harry boarded the yellow Studebaker last night for their trip to town. We huddled on the front porch waving as they pulled away. The night air was cold and the specks of snow sparked when they were caught in the beam of the headlights. I went to bed shortly after they left and slept as soundly as a baby nestled against George’s warm torso.
My eyes stayed shut until the unrelenting light of morning forced me to open them. Fuzzy lines of frost were geometrically etched across the surface of the bedroom window. My eyes focused, and I saw movement outside.
I pushed the pile of quilts and blankets aside to free my legs. My feet touched the stone cold floor boards, and I stepped quickly from the bed to the thick, hand-woven rag rug that covered the center of attic floor. As I lifted my body, George’s burly frame shifted but didn’t stir further. Snow covered the ground, trees, and out buildings. I stood at the window watching and listening to the wind blow snow and leaves around the yard.
This had been my world but now it was far too quiet and safe. I was born and grew up on the farm, but I didn’t belong here anymore. I knew that I belonged on the road with the circus.
I heard a clank of the pump handle in the kitchen, and the floor boards creaked as George stepped beside me. He peered out at the soft snowflakes floating to the ground.
“Whoa, look at all that snow, “he said. “Let’s get dressed and go outside. I’ve never seen so much snow.”
He pulled on his overalls and a flannel shirt.
“George, hold up on the boots. This snow requires special rubber boots.”
As we passed through the kitchen, I acknowledged Mother.
“Breakfast in 30 minutes. Your father’s in the barn.” That was Mother’s way. She acted as if I had never left home.
“We’ll be back in time,” I replied.
A puff of white feathery snow blew into the kitchen as I opened the back door.
“Boys, close that door.” She never looked up from the big wooden bowl that held the flour, baking power, and lard. Golden brown biscuits with the lightness of the snow would emerge from that great wooden bowl and our old wood-burning stove. They would be warm and waiting when we returned. Rubber boots stood in a big box outside the back door. With our identical overcoats, George and I sat on a narrow bench placed on the back porch for the purpose of putting foot coverings on and taking them off.
The fence posts that defined the yard wore white-caps, and George and I watched the perfect geometric flakes fall onto our navy coats. George experienced the snow in every way--eating it as it fell on his face, stomping it under his boots, and laughing as it puffed up around his legs with each step.
“Let’s help Father with the chores,” I said, moving toward the barn.
George dutifully followed me like a little brother. As we approached the barn, he stopped and looked at one of the hay wagons.
“What’s that?”
“What’s what?” I said snapped. “The wagon. Oh, the runners. It’s for snow.”
“Can we hitch to it? I want to take a ride.”
“There will be plenty of time for sleigh rides. The snow won’t go away anytime soon.”
After a delicious breakfast with plenty of the melt-in-your-mouth biscuits, we had the hay wagon with the runners hitched and loaded by ten. The snow fell harder as we let Beth and Star find their way through eight or nine inches of snow. As each giant hoof dropped to the ground, a cloud of white swirled up from their unshod feet. Their bodies were full and thick with chocolate winter coats, and the horses held their heads high as snow covered their manes.
Father said there were about forty head of cattle in the north field. The cows saw us coming and moved toward us. I threw broken bales off of the wagon, and George slowly moved Beth and Star along.
The next three days passed slowly. By the Wednesday afternoon, I thought that Saturday, my departure day, would never come. Mother sensed this.
“Seth, you and George want to go over to the Morrisons and get the sleigh? Mrs. Morrison insisted that we use it for the wedding if it snowed. Thad wants to have it when he and Laureen leave the church.”
“The church?” I said with surprise and scorn in my voice.
“Seth!” Mother said in a reprimanding tone. “Yes, the Methodist Church is where they’re being married.”
“Laureen hasn’t set foot in a church since she was ten. What caused her sudden conversion?”
Mother completely changed the subject. “Go onto Morrisons. Supper will be ready at five-thirty. We’re having fried chicken.”
George and I walked slowly over the moon lighted snow to the barn. Even though it was barely 4:30 the sun was gone and the moon had taken its place. We put the carriage harness on Beth and both Gorge and I sat astride her broad back. Once at Morrisons we were met by Will who saw us ride up. He seemed disappointed to see George riding behind me. He walked with us to their shed where we hitched to the sleigh. He confirmed with a nod that he was coming over Friday and Saturday to do chores. He spoke little but as George boarded the sleigh Will said, “Great to see you. You around long?”
“Will, I am off for Europe early next week to do some circus work.”
“Shit, I wish I could go someplace away from here.”
“That will happen soon enough,” I said in a brotherly way with my hand on his shoulder as I stepped up into the sleigh. I remembered our time together in my bedroom. He couldn’t know how he started my journey. I smiled at him as he watched the runners silently slip across the snow. I wondered what would happen to Will.
Back home Mother had fixed an entire meal of her sons’ favorite dishes: fried chicken, creamed corn, and okra and stewed tomatoes for Thad and mashed potatoes, gravy, and a big bowl of pickled beets for me. We ate ravenously and said little. The oil lamps flickered causing a golden glow to fall across Mother’s face as she nibbled and we consumed.
For dessert, Mother brought out a German chocolate cake. The meal was out of this world, and we told her so during and after the meal. We even offered to help her clean up, but she refused any help except clearing the table of dishes which we always did anyway.
The meal was Mother’s gift to her boys. She showed little affection or overt signs of love. This was how she showed us that she loved us. We lingered for while at the table, talking to Father about the farm and the wedding before excusing ourselves and waddling off to bed.
Three or four more inches of snow fell during the night. In the morning, we hitched Beth and Star to the snow roller and crushed a path from the shed, where the truck was stored, to the road. The crunching of the snow sounded like new shoes being broken in. Finally, the snow had stopped and the sun was breaking through the clouds.
The plan was for us to drive Beth on the sleigh. Thad would drive Mother and Father in the truck to Aunt Mildred’s house. If the truck had not arrived by eleven, we were supposed to ride out and find them. All of us had doubts about how the truck would perform in the snow, and we rigged chains for the wheels, hoping that would help.
I wanted nothing to go wrong at the farm that would negatively color Father’s feelings about Thad’s marriage to Laureen. I thought about Will. I knew that getting hay to the forty head of cattle alone was going to take effort. I encouraged him to bring a friend. I paid him two dollars, which his mother protested, but he readily took the two bills. I told Father about the arrangement. He questioned Will’s reliability, but I reassured him it would work out. If I had told him about the money, I would have had to listen to him badmouthing the youth of America for the next three days. I had already heard that speech and wanted to avoid it.
Father wanted to do chores on Thanksgiving morning himself because he knew that Will would not do them correctly. That was Father. Even though he left the farm physically, he never left it mentally. He never took a vacation. What seemed like a ball and chain to me was his pride and joy. He wanted no harm to come to his precious farm.
Father, Mother, and Thad drove into the driveway off Washington Street in Ft. Wayne at ten-thirty Thanksgiving morning. Mother stepped down from the truck and headed straight for the kitchen to join Aunt Mildred’s cook and housekeeper. Aunt Mildred greeted and then showed us to our rooms. George, Thad and I got the sun porch. Unlike the last time we stayed there, storm windows kept the wind out, but the room was quite cold.
Aunt Mildred assured us that there were plenty of blankets. We sat down on the beds. I began to tell George the story of my first night with the circus five and one-half months earlier. He asked many questions trying to understand all the details of that night.
“Show me where it happened,” he said.
“Why?” I asked laughingly.
“I want to see exactly where your career as a circus man started.” His choice of the word career surprised me. Until he said the word, I always thought of my job as just that and not a life long endeavor. George innocently put my job in long-term perspective, and the use of the word career was not lost on my brother. George finally convinced me to drive out to the site where I helped to rescue Wagon 88. Before we left the room Thad pulled me aside.
“Are you going to stay with the circus after you get back from Europe?”
“I don’t think they’d be sending me to Europe if they thought I was going to quit as soon as I returned.”
He pressed me. “I mean long-term. Five years?”
“Thad, I don’t know. I think I want to go to college. I’ll let you know when I know.”
Thanksgiving dinner at Aunt Mildred’s twenty-foot long mahogany table was unforgettable. The crisp linens were neatly arranged at every place, and, unlike the chairs in our house, all matched. The silver serving pieces sparkled with candlelight bouncing off the flat blades and crystal bowls. Each place was set with two forks, a knife, and three spoons. One spoon lay at the top of the white Haviland bone china dinner plates. I knew about the china because I had heard Mother talk about the service that she claimed was promised to her. It had belonged to their great grandmother, who had emigrated from England.
As we began to gather in the richly wallpapered dining room shortly after twelve-thirty, the gray of the day faded away with the joyous sounds of the family. Aunt Mildred entered the dining room carrying a giant turkey and brusquely admonished each of us to find a seat next to someone we did not know well. Our table of fifteen included George and our family, Aunt Mildred, Uncle Harry and their daughter, Eileen, who was home from college in the east; Laureen, her mother, father and younger sister; and Mr. and Mrs. Stine, Laureen’s grandparents from Cincinnati; and Laureen’s older sister and her husband. They lived near Chicago.
As I looked around the table, it occurred to me that everyone had an important job. Farmer, doctor, engineer, and grocery store owner. I was just a circus worker, and I began to wonder about my choice of work. Conversation turned to my European trip, which would begin in a little more than one week. The group, at least at my end of the table, wanted to know all the details--ship, destination, time abroad, and who I would be visiting. They wanted many more details than I could give.
The next twenty-four hours flew by. The wedding was Friday morning at eleven followed by a luncheon and reception at the church. I drove Thad and Laureen in the sleigh to catch their train to Chicago for their honeymoon. Everyone else went to Aunt Mildred’s for another party, and it was an open house for friends from town who weren’t at the wedding.
I stayed at the party until five-thirty but stayed clear of Uncle Harry’s punch, which took a toll on many of the guests. Mother became increasingly irritated by the party, and I heard her tell Father, who was talking to several of his brothers.
“Gert, I’ll get the truck .You tell’em thank you for me.”
They left a few minutes later and returned to the security of the farm. I took my leave but assured Aunt Mildred that I would return to sleep. She asked me about my appointment.
“I’m having dinner with Molly at the Harvey House Hotel.”
She gave smiling approval and turned back to bid another guest good-bye. I found George at a card table in the den playing checkers with one of my young cousins. When I told him I was leaving to meet Molly, he scowled and returned his attention to the game. I assured him I would be back.
I walked slowly across the shoveled walkway to the street. The snow had been rolled and several sleighs passed by with their brassy bells jingling. I stepped carefully around puddles that had formed during the afternoon. The idea of seeing Molly had seemed like a good one when I proposed it in a letter but didn’t hold much appeal tonight. We spoke briefly as we passed each other at the wedding this morning.
I stepped into the warm reception of the hotel. The flickering light of the chandelier and the wall sconces created a warm cocoon. A few people stood around the fireplace, but the room was otherwise empty.
“Seth,” Molly said softly.
I turned to find her dressed in a long maroon overcoat with fur collar trim, and I approached awkwardly not knowing whether to kiss her or shake her hand. Her arms then encircled me, and kissed me sweetly on the cheek. I winced just enough for her to notice as she drew away.
“Thad and Laureen gone?”
“Yes, they’re probably in Chicago by now.”
“I hope they’re happy together,” she said sarcastically.
“Why don’t we have some dinner? We walked side-by-side into the dining room, which was filled with many couples enjoying the beginning of the holiday season. We talked about the wedding, and things we had been doing. Then she asked me if I really liked the circus.
“Yes, I really love the excitement. The work never ends but neither does the changing and seeing new places. You know I leave for Europe soon.”
“What?” she sputtered.
“I thought you heard. I leave on December 7 for Europe to buy horses for the circus. I’ll be gone for several months,” I said matter-of-factly. “That is the kind of thing I get to do in the circus. You never know when they’re going to ask you to do something like this. Maybe someday they’ll think I can run the circus. Did I tell you Mr. Rudolph Valentino offered me a job working in the moving picture industry?”
Her face sank and the silence between us became awkward. Finally Molly asked. “Do you think you’ll ever come back to Flat Iron Creek?”
“I don’t know, I really don’t.”
I knew I was sitting with a frustrated woman wanting something she could not have. Me. I was not ready to settle down and was sure that I didn’t want to spend my life with tied only to Molly. We spoke little as we ate our meal until Molly said with tears in her eyes. “I want to leave Flat Iron Creek and go someplace, Chicago or St. Louis,” “Maybe I can do what I really want to do and write cookbooks. I love cooking and baking. My mother wants me to settle down and raise a family, but I’m not ready to do that. What do you think I should do?”
“How can I help you?” I said reluctantly.
She just sat quietly looking at me. My hands surrounded a white porcelain coffee cup as I nursed the liquid as the silence built between us again. The waiter brought the check, and I paid it. I stepped behind the chair to help Molly.
“Do we have to go home?”
“No.”
A young man with spectacles and sleeve garters sat on the stool in front of an Estey piano in the parlor and started to play the songs. I invited Molly to sit beside me on the sofa. She slipped her hand into mine as we sat and listened to him play ballads “Before the Storm,” “Deep River,” and “Moonlight and Dreams of You.” The piano player acknowledged the scattered applause.
Molly broke the silence.“Will you walk me to Bonnie’s? That’s where I’m staying.”
“Sure,” I said, somewhat relieved because I didn’t know how the evening was going to end. I dreaded the walk in the sloppy slush, but had no other alternative. When we walked onto the veranda, I spotted Mr. Byron with his sleigh taxi. Molly and I sat shoulder to shoulder with my left arm draped around her back to give her warmth. We stopped in from of a white clapboard house several blocks away and I walked her to the front door. Without thinking, I kissed her solidly on the lips and lingered there with her securely in my arms under a single light. She pulled her hand away.
“When you get done with the circus, I’ll be waiting for you.”
She turned and went inside. I firmly move my head from side to side knowing she was very likely going to be disappointed.
Mr. Byron dropped me at Aunt Mildred’s at nine-thirty. I joined them in the parlor to share a few thoughts of the day. George and I didn’t get in bed until midnight, but Saturday morning he was on a train at eight fifty-eight. George was so happy to have been included in our holiday that I figured that he would be somewhere in Kansas or Nebraska before he realized that the party was over.
When I returned the sleigh to the Morrisons, Will was there to help me push it into the shed. He stood close to me but didn’t say what I knew he wanted. I patted him on the back and gave him a brotherly hug. He watched as I walked toward our farm. It was so quiet and different than the last three days. I helped Father with chores on Sunday and Monday morning, but he was distracted. I sensed that he knew things were happening around him that he could not control, and he was uncomfortable.
I had time to think about the trip to Europe. I worried that I would be sea sick. On Monday afternoon, I drove the truck into Ft. Wayne after saying my good-byes to Mother and Father. I really didn’t know when I would see them again. They were both stoic and reserved at my leaving. I was to meet the newlyweds at the train station. Thad would bring the truck back to the farm the next day. Thad and Laureen planned to live in Muncie. Thad found a job working at a feed elevator. Laureen needed two years of college to get her teaching degree.
Thad told me emphatically that they would not have children for at least four years. He said Laureen made him that promise about children before she gave her consent to marry him, and I believed my horny brother would have promised anything to get in bed with her. She also made him go with her to a special women’s doctor to get lessons on how to avoid pregnancy.
Thad told Father he would be available for spring planting. In fact, he told the owner of the elevator that he planned to be away even before he started working. After I met their train, Thad drove Laureen to school. He thanked me for coming, wished me well and drove off toward Muncie. He didn’t ask me where I was going. My train to New York was Tuesday, and it was only four-thirty Monday afternoon.
The truck pulled away, and Laureen waved. The sidewalks were covered with snow, but the temperature was above freezing. I decided to make my way to Washington Street since I figured that Aunt Mildred was good for another night’s lodging. Before going two blocks, I heard a blast from a car horn and turned. Uncle Harry sat behind the wheel, smiled, and waved me to the car.
“Need a ride?”
“I was on my way to your house,” I said as I climbed into the passenger’s seat.
“Nobody home,” he responded.
“Where’s Aunt Mildred?”
“Indianapolis with her sister. Your aunt, Jeanette.”
“What’s wrong?”
“She’s been sick for a while, you know. Mildred just wanted to see the situation for herself. I guess there was talk of Jeanette at Thanksgiving. Mildred’ll be back in a couple of days. We gave Mrs. Manfred the week off since she did double duty last week.”
He took his foot off of the gas pedal, and the car slowed.
“How’s your leg?“He said as he passed the driveway to their house.
“We’re going to my office. You need to be checked over before you leave the country.”
I protested but he decided that I needed an examination. He asked me all kinds of questions about my body. I complained about a pain in my left side that occurred when I lifted anything heavy. “Let’s wait until we get to the office,” he said.
We pulled up in front of a small building on Main Street not two blocks from the spot where he picked me up. He unlocked the backdoor of the office and turned on the lights in the examining room. He told me to get undressed while he went to get my medical chart. I stripped to my union johns. I was chilled but sat on the edge of the examining table with the window shades up exposing me to whoever wanted to look.
Uncle pulled and pushed my leg until it hurt. He had me stand and examined everything from my ears to my toes. I dropped onto my back as he checked my abdomen, spending considerable time on my left side. He had me stand again and continued to push on my side until I cried out.
“It’s what I thought, ” he said. “Your left kidney is still bruised from the accident. It’s not permanent but its going to be tender for quite a while. Don’t get into any fights, or you could have permanent damage.”
He put his fingers between my legs and made me cough. My dick stiffened. His face showed interest.
“How’s your sex life?”
“Limited, very limited.” As soon as the words left my lips, he smiled.
“You still a virgin?”
“No, thank goodness.”
Uncle Harry finished the examination and pronounced me a sound specimen with specific reservations about my kidney and leg . He told me to get dressed.
“I’ll take you to supper before we go home. Maybe a little dessert, too.”
We got into the Studebaker with my rear end still feeling the effects of the internal examination. As we drove away from the office, I suspected that Uncle Harry had more than supper on his mind, but I wasn’t sure what it was.
The situation became clear. He decided that he would be a Victorian father for the son he never had. The Studebaker sent snow and slush spraying as we drove down Main Street. We turned onto an unmarked street that crossed the railroad tracks and finally onto a quiet, snow covered lane. We were a mile from Harsh’s Pond when we stopped. The unplowed road trailed off. The lights of the Studebaker touched the crests of the snowy ruts. We stopped in front of white clapboard house that needed painting. The front porch was covered with six inches of snow.
Uncle Harry said little driving to the house. He asked if I was hungry and that was about all. He gently pushed the front door open and motioned for me to precede him. We stepped into the house and were immediately greeted with a potpourri of smells--perfume, cigarette smoke, and food. We took off our overcoats and hung them on a hall tree with a beveled mirror in the center. Uncle Harry pushed aside the heavy damask curtain that separated the anteroom from the living room. Once inside, we were greeted by a Negro woman.
“Evenin’ Dr. Harry. Whose your friend?”
“My nephew. Miss Dawn, what’s for supper? We too late?”
“I hope not. Let me see.”
She stepped into the dining room. A strikingly beautiful woman with soft brunette hair came into the room. She wore a pale yellow silk gown open in the front revealing her well developed shape. Underneath she wore a short slip, maybe a size or two too small.
“Hello, Dr. Harry,” she said provocatively in our direction. “Introduce me to your young friend.”
“Delores,” he said in a reprimanding tone.
“Gentlemen, just in time. Come sit down,” Miss Dawn said.
We did and were graciously served a fine meal of macaroni and cheese with green beans. Two young girls introduced themselves and invited us into the parlor to listen to the Victrola after dinner. Carla took my hand and led the way into the front parlor. We sat side by side with her slender left leg gently rubbing my pant leg. She had a sweet look and spoke softly. Her eyes were milk chocolate and sad. Her skin was pure white. We only listened to the scratchy music coming from the great music horn for a few minutes before she firmly squeezed my hand to signal that it was time. I followed her upstairs. The bed, flanked by two small tables with lamps, was piled high with feather comforters. The space was warm and inviting. Carla was nice dessert but she didn’t interest me very much. I performed but felt I was going through the motions without any real feeling for this girl.
Uncle Harry and I left at ten. The Studebaker backed into the slotted ruts of the driveway without a noticeable slip. Once on Washington Street we drove home after Uncle Harry stopped at the hospital to check on a patient. I opened the garage door, and Uncle Harry inched the car inside.
When we were inside the house Uncle Harry lit several lamps but didn’t turn on the electric lights. He told me to put my bag down at the foot of the stairs and join him for a nightcap in the parlor. I suspected he wanted a report on my evening. I wasn’t really tired but told him I wanted to shower before bed. He acknowledged that there would be time for a shower before bed and asked what time my train left for New York.
“You can sleep late, no rush tomorrow,” he said. ”Follow me.”
I followed him across the polished hardwood floor that echoed with our footsteps. Harry lit another small kerosene lamp on a table that was up against the wall in the hall. He picked it up and carried it into the parlor. The room filled with soft, flickering light that was perfect for my taste. I just sat on the horsehair sofa situated to the right of the marble fireplace that was cold and dark. He moved to the opposite wall and removed a few books to reveal a bottle.
“Brandy, OK,” he said.
“Never had any.”
“Seth, there’s no prohibition in Europe.”
Even though I knew Canada didn’t have prohibition, I never thought about Europe. Uncle Harry poured a small amount of the liquid in the bottom of a large round glass and set it in front me.
“Wait, don’t drink, I’ll show you the proper way. You’ll need to know this for your trip.”
He left the room for a few minutes, and I was starring at the rich caramel liquid when he came back into the room wearing a dressing gown.
“Its only good for telling fortunes when you’ve had at least three shots. Pick it up like this.” He reached over and grasped his glass with both hands. He gently moved the glass in a counter clockwise direction. The liquor rose up on the side of the glass. He put his nose over the opening and sniffed.
“Beautiful,” he said, sipping a tiny amount. “Try it yourself, slowly. Experience the brandy. Look at it. Sniff it. Sip it.”
I did as I was instructed. The aroma was unique but the alcohol made my eyes water when I sniffed too deeply. I let my tongue touch the liquor as I raised the glass to my lips. It was strong but smooth. Uncle Harry described the virtues of brandy, but I really wasn’t listening. My mind had moved to the unknowns of my European trip.
“Seth, tell me about the night you went to Wallace Beery’s and saw Valentino.”
“That night was a dream, Uncle Harry.”
I became more focused and recounted in exact detail the events of the evening. He listened intently to every word and spoke only a couple of times, wanting more specifics. He puffed away on his cigar. The story seemed to satisfy him, and he finally suggested we go upstairs.
I reminded him of my desire to shower because I thought I would have few over the next several months. He asked if I minded if he kept me company. I didn’t because he seemed to want company. I dropped my clothes on a chair in my room and stepped naked across the cold floor boards of the hall to the bathroom. He followed in his dressing gown..
“Thought I’d clean the residue of the evening off of me,” he said smiling.
Uncle Harry was a forty-two and in good shape. His face was pleasant, and his gray hair thinned at the crown. His stomach protruded slightly over his belt line. He preceded me into the bathroom. As he turned away from me to turn the water on, I noticed a big scar on the back of his left thigh that ran from his knee up under his robe.
“Where’d the scar come from Harry?”
“None of your goddamn business.” He paused as I squirmed momentarily. “I’m kidding, and I like being called Harry. It means you think we’re friends.”
He paused and adjusted the water temperature.
“Get in. The scar is the reason that I’m an orthopedic doctor today.”
He went on to tell me how he had fallen out of a tree when he was eight years old. The fall resulted in a compound fracture with the bone protruding out the back of his leg. He told me about the year he spent on crutches. I wrapped in a towel around my waist and sat on the john until he finished with his shower.
He was rich, important, and lonely for male companionship. It was obvious that he was a man who wished he had sons. After showering I dried myself and may have lingered a little too long on my dick. He asked me with a puzzled looked, “Did you like your time with the young girl?”
I didn’t know quite what to say so I answered, “She was OK but I am not much interested in girls now. She was nice but…”
“You aren’t a virgin, you said?”
“No, but that was interesting because I was with a man and a woman when that happened.”
“Really?”
“It just happened.”
“Did you like doing the guy?”
“Yeah, but I think it was wrong. That is what I have always been told. But 'yes’ I liked it.” By this point Harry had his hand under his gown and was stroking himself. As I watched I felt myself stiffening. He stood up, dropped his gown and moved toward me. He grabbed my sack under my dick like he had done in the office. But this time he massaged the sack as I got harder and harder. His large dick was sticking straight up into the air.
“You up for some play time,” he said. “Follow me into the bedroom.” He was an attractive man and I couldn’t help but like what I saw. He pulled the chenille bed spread back followed by the sheet. He pulled me to him and sat on the edge. He put his hands on my butt cheeks and pulled me to him. His mouth took my balls first and slowly moved his mouth to my dick. It felt wonderful. He pulled me onto the bed and pushed my head toward his feet. His sticky dick was inches from my mouth so I did what I had done before and took it into my mouth. He was doing the same to me.
He stopped and let me continue sucking. “Seth, would you like to see what he feels like to have a dick inside of you.” I didn’t answer and he pushed me onto my back. He reached across the bed to a bedside table and pulled out a jar. As I watched he put Vasoline on my dick and made it very slippery. He did the same to himself. Finally, he lifted my legs onto his shoulders and I felt his hands rubbing salve over my butt hole. He slowly moved his dick head to my hole and gently pushed. “It will hurt but push out like you are going to the toilet.” It did hurt at first but I was fascinated by the sensation. He pushed and I felt his manhood slip inside me and the deeper he went the more exciting it was. He kept bumping something that was so sensitive it made me quiver whenever he touched it. Before long I knew I couldn’t hold off any longer and a stream of cum shot out on to my chest. He continued to go in and out and with a groan he let himself go inside of me.
After minutes he pulled himself off of me and put his arm under my head and pulled me close to him. I didn’t move because I didn’t know what to do. We fell asleep in his bed without any words being spoken.
Late in the night I heard the telephone ringing. After the third or fourth ring, I heard Uncle Harry’s voice. Soon I felt Harry’s hand on my shoulder.
“Seth, wake up. I need you to come with me. There’s been an accident.”
He and I showered together quickly without commenting about our sex. I dressed and stood at the back door before Harry appeared again.
He pushed the backdoor open, turned out the light, and headed for the Studebaker.
“The hospital called. There has been bad accident.”
“What kind of accident?”
“Train hit a truck carrying a bunch of people, kids, too,” he said. “Seth, you’re an extra pair of hands. Do exactly as you’re told.”
He pulled right up to the back door of the hospital, and I followed him inside. He put on a white coat.
“Put on these surgical scrub clothes. Don’t get your own clothes messed up. No time to clean them before you leave.”
He talked to another man as I emerged from the closet where I had slipped into the scrubs. The scene was chaotic. Negroes cried and screamed on stretchers. Nurses called to Harry and another man.
“Orderly over here,” a nurse shouted to me. “Over here. Cut the clothes off of this guy. Think he has a crushed chest. Be careful don’t move him much.”
I reached for some scissors. Blood seeped out of his mouth, and I became woozy.
That was the beginning of more than five hours of cutting, lifting, and helping. I saw Uncle Harry later when they sent me to the operating room with a patient. I looked at the guy’s eyes as I wheeled him down a hall not quite sure where I was going. I saw fear and pain in his eyes.
“Seth, over here. What do we have? Broken arm for sure, more important stuff inside.”
With all available hands, we lifted the big man onto the operating table. Harry and the other doctor stepped aside to talk.
“Miss James,” Harry said, “how many more?”
“None. The little girl died,” she said without emotion. I thought she should have been sad, but maybe she was too busy to be sad.
“OK, George, this is going to test you and me both. Miss James, get all the clamps and sponges you can find. We’re going to open him up, and its goin’ be messy. George, give him enough ether to do the job. Watch his eyes every second. Seth, sit by his head and keep talking to him. Watch his eyes. Tell us if they start to roll back. Don’t wait. Yell it out.”
Harry cut opened the chest cavity with a saw. Blood splashed and splattered everywhere. Blood ran into him as fast it was ran out of him. I yelled twice as the man’s eyes rolled back into his head. The other doctor put a cup over his mouth and nose and pumped on a balloon bag. Both times his eyes straightened out.
Uncle Harry put his hands inside the man’s chest. “George, we’ll have God to thank if this works.”
Three hours later, they stitched up the patient. He was alive, and the doctors walked out of the operating room leaving the nurses to continue to check pulse and blood pressure.
Harry went to check on other patients. He seemed quite sure that an older woman, probably a grandmother, would not make it. Later, we discovered that the sheriff and ambulance crew had not even brought five people to the hospital because they died at the scene of the accident
It was ten in the morning before I realized how hungry I was.
“Get your clothes,” Harry said. “We’re going. What time’s your train?”
“Four something,” I said. “I’m starving.”
“Let’s go home, clean up, and get some food.”
Uncle Harry said to a new nurse, “Sister, I’m going home; then to the cafe. Call if you need any help.”
She acknowledged him with a nod. We left and were in the car before he spoke again: “That’s my work, Seth. Admittedly not that intense everyday; but that’s what I do,” he smiled.
At home in the bathroom with his hand planted on my butt, he said, “Seth, you could be a great doctor. You have the right attitude for it. I watched you last night.”
I didn’t respond but I had to admit to myself I was excited by what I saw.
“But I’d have to go to college.”
“Right you are,” Harry said as he toweled off.
“Not now.”
“No, you’ve got a train to catch.”
Working with Harry had given me the happiness that I felt only when the last wagon was pulled onto the circus train. I let the warm water cascade over my tired muscles. I thought about last night with Harry. Then I thought about the victims. As I stepped out of the shower, I noticed that my dick was hard as I can ever remember it. Harry noticed too and spoke first.
“Found the work exciting I see.”
“Yeah, real exciting. Just look at me. More exciting than the woman I was with last night - even though that was pleasure. What we did was really fun. Can I ask you a question.”
“Yes, what is it?”
“When your dick was inside me it kept hitting something that was real exciting. What part of the body was that?
“Your prostate. It’s the organ than makes the white creamy liquid that comes out of you. It carries the semen.” It sounded so clinical when he said it. “Did you like what we did?”
“Yes, very much. I thank you for showing me.”
Just be careful there are diseases that happen just like when men and women have sex. He changed the subject and said, “A man’s work should be as pleasurable as sex. Just different. Hurry along I’m starving. Bring your things.”
Later in the afternoon, Harry patted my shoulder as he saw me off on the train to New York. He handed me a ticket. “This is your pay.”
As I reached out to shake hands, he pulled me to him with a bear hug and kissed me on the cheek. I had never been hugged or kissed by a man before. My Father never touched me and hugged me. He waved as I stepped into a Pullman car. “Come back;” Harry yelled. “we’ll talk European travels over a brandy.”