Dermot II - Chapter 1 - The Mall

     

Dermot woke up early on Saturday morning.  This was the day he would leave the hospital, which had been his home for the past three weeks, his only home since being thrown out by Uncle Steve more than nine months earlier.  Even Nurse Hoffman could not dampen his enthusiasm this morning.  He was going to be living with Lando!  Well, there was Lando’s family, too, but they definitely took a back seat in Dermot’s imagination of what life would be like from here on.  The forefront of his imagination was totally dominated by the figure of Lando, the beautiful boy who had walked into his life and turned everything upside down.  Until the day Lando appeared, life had been something to struggle through, to endure.  Now, it was beginning to look like, to feel like, something to enjoy.  Dermot had not felt this good since his mother became seriously ill more than six years earlier.

 

Breakfast went by without even being noticed.  Unusually for a Saturday, Dr. Shipley made an appearance as soon as Dermot had finished his early repast.

 

“Well, Dermot, it looks like we’ll finally be getting rid of you,” the physician kidded.

 

“I know I’ve been a pain in the butt, and I can’t say I’m sorry to be leaving,” Dermot replied, “but I really appreciate all you guys have done for me.”

 

“Fact is, I’ll kind of miss seeing you each morning.  You’ve become something of a pet around here, you know,” the doctor informed the boy.

 

“That goes for me, too,” said Dr. Rygalski.  “Oh, and Jerry sends his best wishes.  He says he’ll miss my stories of my favorite patient.”

 

“You tell your little brother to hang in there,” Dermot responded.  “One of these days, we’ll get together and plot against you.”

 

Dr. Rygalski gave a convincing impression of stark terror.  “If that happens, the world will never be the same again,” she predicted.

 

Dermot was sent up to be x-rayed again, and had a session with his physical therapist, who left with him a detailed program of exercises to make sure his leg healed properly, and he regained full use of his wrist.  Returning to his room he found Walt Lyle in consultation with Dr. Shipley.  Then, the world brightened still further as Lando danced into the room, once again announcing his presence with a happy “Hi, boyfriend!”

 

Dr. Shipley, Dr. Rygalski, and Walt Lyle laughed at Lando’s exuberance, and, even though Nurse Hoffman pursed her lips in disapproval, the room brightened.  “Hi, yourself, boyfriend!” Dermot returned.

 

Dr. Shipley gave Dermot his last examination, a thorough one which seemed to take forever.  He was provided with the kind of casts which strapped on, so he could be more comfortable, especially when sleeping, and could change clothes more easily.  The results of his x-rays were examined and explained in detail, both to Dermot and to Walt Lyle, who, Dermot suddenly realized, was now his legal guardian, accepting responsibility for him like the father he had lost.  Once the examination was complete, Dr. Shipley and Mr. Lyle went into conference mode, while Dermot was told to dress.

 

Dress!  He had not been out of hospital gowns in three weeks!  While on the street, Dermot considered himself a pretty sharp dresser.  Almost none of the clothing he had worn when he had been ejected from Uncle Steve’s house remained.  Somehow, he managed to clothe himself, partly with items purchased from the thrift stores with income from his hustling, and partly with things lifted from stores while no one was looking.  But, when he was handed his bundle of garments on that Saturday morning, he was surprised to find just how tawdry it all looked.  Nothing fit properly, for one thing.  It was either too tight or too loose, or just the wrong shape.  And the colors all were washed out, faded.  The only thing which made donning these garments a pleasure rather than a pain was the presence of Lando.  As their elders conferred, Lando helped Dermot remove his hospital g own, and then whistled at his nude body.

 

“Hey, looks like I’m getting a hot boyfriend,” Lando kidded.

 

Dermot turned red.  He had stripped often enough for customers, but this was different.  He really cared what Lando thought about him, and he thought he looked pretty lame, with a cast around his chest, and not being able to use his left leg or right wrist, and all white and pale from the winter weather and his time in the hospital.  Besides, his physique was not all that impressive.  He was thin, unhealthily thin, not only from his time on the streets, but from the meager diet his uncle had prescribed for everyone except himself and cousin Zach, who was given special consideration because he needed to keep his strength up as a member of the football team.  Dermot also had red hair, which was now growing out in a totally unruly manner, and his face was spattered with freckles.  None of this had ever struck him as hot.  How many teen idols were redheads?  Dermot thought he looked entirely too much like what he was, namely working class Irish.  Never before had he thought he was hot.  But, when he noticed that Lando was giving him a thorough scan while handing him his clothes, he began to get hard.  Here he was, for the first time, entirely naked in the presence of this beautiful boy who called him boyfriend.  He had not even realized it when he stripped.  The critical moment had passed without the proper band playing and fireworks.  Dermot looked at Lando, and realized that the other boy had not missed the moment at all.  Lando was looking at him with something like hunger, like a wolf who had just seen a tasty lamb.

 

Dermot could not help it.  Seeing Lando’s lust caused him to get hard.  Totally embarrassed, he found himself frozen, unable to continue dressing, unable to ignore the eyes which took in every inch of his body, and fastened on his crotch.  With a mind of its own, Dermot’s cock rose to greet Lando, stretching to its full six and a half inches.  Not bad for an almost sixteen year old.  It had earned Dermot his keep for many months.  Now, it was like the headlight shining in the eyes of the deer.  Lando seemed unable to take his eyes away from it, and as long as Lando stared, Dermot could not continue dressing, much less get his equipment under control.

 

“Do you need help dressing?”

 

The sharp voice of Nurse Hoffman cut through the moment, bringing both boys back to the present.

 

“No.  I’m fine,” Dermot insisted, as he quickly deflated.

 

He grabbed the underwear next to him, and pulled them on, with Lando helping with his leg.  Then he donned the shirt, jeans, socks, and shoes he had been wearing the night he had been assaulted and sent into the hospital.  They had been carefully washed by the hospital, of course, but somehow they looked different, and much less impressive, than Dermot remembered.  Dermot was embarrassed to have Lando see him in this poor ensemble, although his boyfriend made no comment as he helped him dress.  Over the leg of his jeans, his cast was strapped on tightly, and another attached to his right wrist.

 

The discussions completed, and the final scrap of paper signed, it was time to leave the hospital.  Nurse Hoffman insisted that he had to leave in a wheel chair, despite Dermot’s insistence that he could do just fine with the crutches supplied him.  An orderly appeared with a chair, and, rather than prolong the process by arguing, Dermot allowed himself to be wheeled out to the entrance.  He was accompanied by Mr. Lyle, but Lando had disappeared a few minutes before, while he was struggling with the wheel chair.  Then, as they perched on the sidewalk at the hospital entrance, a golden chariot roared around the corner and came to a halt before them.  A grinning Lando popped out of the driver’s side, and rushed around to open the passenger door.  Just as he promised, Lando was driving his Mustang, and was going to give Dermot a ride.

 

Amid several warnings about safe driving, Walt Lyle released Dermot to his lover.  As Dermot settled into his seat, and looked at the boy getting into the driver’s seat, he realized that they were, indeed, lovers, even though they had not as yet done anything more physical than kissing.  The lust he had seen in Lando’s eyes while he was naked was something Dermot had experienced before from his customers, but the love he now saw in Lando’s eyes as he laughed at him was something entirely new.  No customer had ever looked at him like this.  Lando leaned over, and, as though by magic, as naturally as iron is drawn to a magnet, Dermot responded.  Their lips met.  There were bands playing after all, and fireworks, and stars twinkling in the heavens, and banners flying.

 

BEEP!!!

 

There was also a vehicle behind them wanting to pull through the drop off area in front of the hospital door.

 

Flushed, the boys separated, and Lando released the brake.  They were off!

 

Dermot was not familiar with the route they were taking.  “Where are we going?” he asked.

 

“To the mall,” Lando responded, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.  “I can’t have my boyfriend looking like a reject from the Salvation Army.”

 

“Gee thanks,” Dermot pouted.

 

“Just the clothes.  The boy inside is totally acceptable anywhere,” Lando assured him.

 

“Which mall?”

 

“Oxbridge.”

 

That was one Dermot had never visited, locate in a more exclusive part of town, and boasting stores like Aeropostale, Calvin Klein, and Tommy Hilfinger.

 

“Hey, no need to over do it.  Walmart will be fine.”

 

“No way, Jose!  I am going to dress you the way you deserve, and you’re not going to deprive me of the pleasure,” Lando insisted.

 

“Don’t get carried away.”

 

“I have every intention of getting carried away.  And I plan to use the little plastic card I have in my wallet until it melts from the heat,” Lando laughed.

 

“You have your own credit card?” Dermot asked.

 

“Well, it has my name on it, but Dad pays the bills,” Lando admitted.  “But he told me to make sure you got some nice clothes as a birthday present.”

 

Dermot settled into the comfortable bucket seat of the Mustang, and contemplated getting nice clothes.  Not just ordinary nice, but cool nice.  He had dreamed of that more than once over the years, but never really expected it to happen.  He was still enjoying the thought when Lando pulled into the parking lot in front of the main entrance to Oxbridge Mall.  It was just on ten o’clock, so all the stores should be open on this Saturday morning.

 

The two boys enjoyed a frenzy of shopping.  Naturally, with Dermot’s leg and wrist in a cast, Lando had to help him actually try on clothes, which led to some intimate touches, and a good deal of giggling.  By eleven-thirty, they had devastated three stores, and were in one of the more ordinary outlets searching for just the right kinds of jeans.  At their entrance, they were greeted by a nice looking young man, but he was shunted aside by a rather pushy female clerk.  Ignoring this, the boys began to try on jeans.  Lando insisted on at least one pair of tight fitting jeans, but Dermot protested that he was too thin, and intended to fill out.

 

“Not a problem,” Lando insisted.  “When you become the Hulk, we’ll just get you another pair which fit.”

 

This whole attitude was a revelation to Dermot, who had always had to be very conscious of getting clothing which would last and serve many purposes.  They snagged three possible styles, and retreated to the dressing rooms.  Amid considerable racy comment and much giggling, Lando assisted Dermot to remove his leg cast and try on the jeans.  The second pair was both comfortable and showed off Dermot’s package in a way which left Lando mesmerized.  He caressed Dermot’s privates, not even pretending it was an accidental brush, and in a husky voice said, “I think these will do.”

 

Dermot laughed.  “If you keep that up, we’ll have to buy this pair, since I will have soiled them so they cannot be returned.”

 

“You keep that pair on,” Lando instructed.  “Heads will turn as we walk down the mall.”

 

“Won’t that make you jealous?” Dermot teased.

 

“No way.  I know you’re mine.”

 

Lando leaned in, about to kiss his boyfriend, when suddenly the curtain to the dressing room was pulled back, and a strident voice demanded, “What kind of perversion is going on in here?  The sign clearly says one person at a time in the dressing rooms.”

 

“What are you suggesting?” an angry Lando demanded.

 

“Well, it looks pretty obvious to me,” the pushy female clerk insisted.  “We have to keep a sharp lookout for deviants like you, but this is a respectable establishment.”

 

“My friend needs help ....”

 

“Not that kind of help in here.”

 

While Lando was dealing with the clerk, Dermot assessed the situation.  The clerk was an older woman, probably in her fifties, stout, frumpy, with greying hair and unattractive glasses on a chain around her neck.  She was the sort of clerk Dermot had avoided when he was trying to supplement his wardrobe during his street time.  He found her intimidating, but Lando obviously did not.

 

When Dermot’s attention returned to the altercation between the clerk and his boyfriend, he found Lando an entirely different person than he had experienced before.  Here was the Prince of the Blood Royal, ticking off an impertinent peon.

 

“Madam, I find your insinuations offensive and intrusive.  I demand that you summon the manager at once.”

 

“I am perfectly capable ....”

 

“At once!”

 

To Dermot’s amazement, the clerk backed down.  She retreated, followed closely by Lando, leaving Dermot without his cast, so he could not take part in the procession.  He need not have worried.  Two minutes later footsteps returned.  With a grand gesture, Lando swept aside the curtain.

 

“As even an idiot can easily see, my friend has a cast on leg and wrist, and is in need of assistance when trying on your garments.  Your clerk ...”  The word was enunciated so as to give the impression that she was something like gum sticking on the bottom of one’s shoe.  “... chose to place a lurid interpretation on that assistance.  Here,” Lando said, producing his credit card, “you can see that I am Roland Cartwright Lyle.  Perhaps you have heard of my father, Walter Marcus Lyle IV.”  The names rolled off his tongue like a cannonade.  “We have never been subjected to this like of harassment when shopping here before.  Perhaps we should look elsewhere in the future.”

 

“On no, sir!  I’m sure there was a mistake.  Mrs. Stringer surely did not mean to imply ....”

 

“She most assuredly did.  She was quite clear on what she meant to imply.  I will do no business with her, and if you want our continued patronage, I will not see her as we complete our business.  There was a very polite young man who greeted us when we arrived, but this intolerable harpy dismissed him in an insulting manner.  We will deal with him.”

 

“Yea, sir.  That will be fine, sir.  We certainly wish to accommodate you and your family.  I assure you, we all have the highest regard for Mr. Lyle,” the manager insisted.

 

“Yes, yes, yes.  May we finish out fitting without further interruption now?” Lando dismissed him.

 

“Of course, sir.”

 

Lando peremptorily pulled the curtain closed.  He waited, facing away from Dermot.  The footsteps of the manager receded.  Lando turned around, and burst out laughing.

 

“Boy!” Dermot said, “remind me never to tick you off!”

 

“Don’t worry, boyfriend.  There’s no way you could get my dander up like that pretentious and prejudiced clerk or that smarmy manager.  You’re genuine, but they’re just cardboard.  Let’s finish up here and grab some lunch.”

 

“Lunch!  You mean I get to eat real food, too!  Wow, that’s too much for one day!” Dermot exaggerated, putting on a devoted puppy expression.

 

“Cut the crap, boyfriend,” Lando demanded.

 

“Yes, Your Lordship.  Yes sir.  Whatever you say, sir.”

 

Lando punched Dermot in his left shoulder – hard.

 

“Ow!  You’re taking advantage of an invalid!”

 

“That was your good shoulder, idiot!  You should be glad it wasn’t your mouth, after that obnoxious imitation of that obsequious manager.”

 

“You’re right.  Lunch!”

 

The boys completed their purchases, assisted by the young male clerk, and departed to the food court.  Dermot’s mouth watered from the smells while they were still several stores away.

 

“Real food!  Real food!” he chanted, as they approached, to the delight of Lando, who was almost bent double with laughter.

 

Lando helped Dermot get settled at a table, and then they looked around at the offerings of the various food outlets.  Dermot decided on pizza and Coke, so Lando went off to make the purchase.

 

While he was waiting, Dermot looked around, enjoying the feeling of well-being that came from being out of the hospital, and in the company of Lando.  As he gazed around, with no particular focus, he became aware that he was being observed.  Looking more closely, he located a middle aged man with a woman, who seemed unable to take his eyes off Dermot.  Those eyes were filled with apprehension.  It took a few moments, but Dermot finally placed him as a trick he had serviced about two months ago, and again a week later.  Looking at him now, it was pretty clear that the john was about to shit his pants with fear that Dermot would out him to the woman, presumably his wife, who accompanied him.  Dermot recalled that the man had paid, and even included a nice tip, and had demanded nothing humiliating or harmful.  So, he had no reason to cause trouble.  He looked away, seeking out Lando at the Pizza Hut counter.  When next he looked in the other direction, the man was gone.  This raised an unexpected issue.  Dermot might be recognized by other former customers, who would not be so reluctant to acknowledge the past.

 

When Lando returned, Dermot described his recent experience.  They discussed it briefly, but could come to no conclusion.  Lando suggested, “When we get home, we can ask Dad about this.”  That seemed both comforting and frightening to Dermot, but it was the best they could do.  Somehow, while they were discussing this matter, their pizza had disappeared, so Lando returned to the counter for a second helping.  Dermot reveled in the knowledge that he could have seconds if he wanted.

 

The last store visited after lunch was an exclusive men’s store.  Lando insisted that Dermot needed a suit and dress shoes for special occasions.  Dermot was reluctant, because in his mind a suit was associated with attending the pentecostal church his Uncle Steve belonged to, but no sooner had they entered and caught the attention of a clerk than he knew this was something different.  No cheap, ill-fitting suit off the rack was intended.  The clerk, and elderly man, recognized Lando and greeted him by name.  He was helpful without being obsequious.  Dermot had the unique experience of being measured for the first time, with tsk-tsk-ing about his thin frame, and subtle comments about letting out the seams when he put on some weight.  Lando vetoed Dermot’s first two choices of pattern, finally approving a nice brown tweedy pattern.  Shoes were fitted, with appropriate socks.  The white athletic socks Dermot was wearing were unceremoniously removed by Lando, and replaced with muted browns as well.  Then, Dermot tried walking in the shoes chosen for him by his boyfriend.  It was a bit awkward because of the crutches, but the shoes actually felt comfortable, contrary to what Dermot expected.  The shoes and socks were paid for, as was a dress shirt, tie, and belt, but the suit would have to be called for when it had been altered to fit.  This was an entirely new shopping experience for Dermot.

 

It was about two in the afternoon when the boys made their way back to Lando’s Mustang.  Dermot expressed his appreciation, but Lando insisted that he had enjoyed it was much as he.  “I can be really bossy sometimes.  You don’t have to do everything I say, you know,” Lando informed him.