Part 106

Something really weird was going on here. I was searching through my closet trying to choose what I'd wear for Jimothy's arrival. Me? In clothes? I figured he'd probably expect me to answer the front door totally nude -- but that would look way uncool if he were styling in something snazzy. I finally settled on a Nike t and baggy shorts, but no shoes. I liked to be barefooted, especially in summer. Besides, Paul said I had sexy feet. I wasn't quite sure how two plates of meat with ten toes could be sexy, but if that was my bud's opinion, it was good enough for me.

"Do I look OK, mom? Is my hair right?"

"You look just fine, Daniel. Are you sure you don't want to wear shoes?"

"Maybe I should compromise and wear one," I grinned. "I can't believe I'm so nervous, though. I don't get like this with other dudes. What if I say something lamo and he thinks I'm a nerd or whatever?"

"He's probably thinking the same thing and feeling the same way, Daniel. After a few minutes, I'm sure you'll be like old friends. Uh, there's the door now."

"Will you answer it, mom? I wanna be kinda casual -- y'know, like laidback, cool."

"He's your friend, Daniel. I think you should answer the door."

I placed my hand on the doorknob, took a deep breath, exhaled, and tried to will my heart to stop thumping like crazy. Whoa! In one second, I would be face to face with the legendary Jimothy.

"It's you!"

"Whaddayamean it's me? Of course it's me!"

"C'mon in, Paul. Jimothy's not here yet. And how come you're wearing shoes?"

"Mom says you gotta have respect for people when you meet them for the first time."

"Are you saying that I should be wearing shoes?"

"Not if you don't wanna. You could tell him you were just about to put 'em on when…"

"It's for you, Daniel," mom said, offering me the phone. "It's Jimothy."

"Yo! Where are you, man?"

"I dunno exactly. I'm in Tampa, but I can't find your street. I'm using a pay phone at the corner of Elsworth and Fig."

"You're here?"

"Well, I will be when you give me bloody directions. Where's your street?"

"It's right out front of our house." I placed my hand over the mouthpiece. "Hey, mom! It's Jimothy! He's here! Woohoo! Wow, dude, this is so cool! Oops! I'm talking to my hand. Are you still there Jimothy? How long will it take you to get here?"

"At this rate, all bloody day!"

"Huh? Oh! Sorry. Jeez, I wasn't thinking." Damn! I hadn't even met the dude and I'd already made a fool of myself. Anyway, I gave him the directions and figured he'd arrive in about ten minutes. "By the way, I'm not wearing shoes."

"Cool. I'll alert the media. See you in ten."

I hung up, then threw my arms in the air. "I blew it! I totally blew it! I got so damn excited, my brain went loopy. He's gonna think I'm totally dumb."

"It's OK, Daniel," Paul smiled, "I'll tell him it's only an act to get you sympathy."

"Thanks, pal. You're a real friend. NOT! I'm gonna go brush my teeth again."

Paul and I were standing in the drive as the blue Toyota Corolla nosed toward us and entered our yard. My stomach was alive with butterflies as I got my first glimpse of Jimothy behind the wheel. "Hi," I said, trying to act as cool as possible, then put my hand through the open driver's-side window just as he was opening the door. For a moment, there was a bit of confusion as to whether he should shake my hand or continue to exit the car. "Sorry, dude," I laughed in a vain attempt to hide my embarrassment. "You get out, then we'll shake." I'd blown it again. Fuck!

"My stuff's in the trunk. You guys wanna gimme a hand?"

As we unloaded the car, I got a good look at what Jimothy was wearing -- a blue, buttoned, short-sleeved shirt that was hanging over cream, baggy pants with cargo pockets, and brown, lace-up shoes. He looked totally stylish. All of a sudden, I felt like a fucking geek in my shorts and t, and bare feet.

"Mom," I yelled as the screen door banged shut, "meet my friend, Jimothy."

"Hi, Jimothy," she smiled, extending her hand. "I've heard so much about you -- and all of it good. Call me Nancy."

"You guys get aquainted while I take your stuff to my room," I suggested. "I'll put your bags and guitar on the bed. We can organize it later."

"Hang a sec, Daniel." Jimothy untied his laces, and removed his shoes and socks. "You wanna take these as well? It's been a long drive and my feet are all hot and… well... hot."

After Paul and I had put Jimothy's stuff in my room, and I'd snuck a quick sniff of Jimothy's shoes and socks, we went to the barbecue area where mom had arranged some glasses and a large bottle of Pepsi. "I'll leave you boys to chat," she smiled. "Dinner will be at seven. Greg and Andy will be home before then."

The convo see-sawed from Jimothy's questions about me to mine about him. But as we talked, I became more and more intrigued with his constant smile. I remembered one of his emails where he'd said that he smiled pretty much all the time, even when he didn't have anything in particular to smile about. It became increasingly obvious that there was something pretty special about this dude -- a kinda charisma that drew you to him like a magnet, and made you feel in awe of him -- not in a way that was intimidating, but in a way that was friendly and warm. I guessed that was the quality that made him an entertainer -- a guy who could cast a magic spell over an audience. Even Kyle had parked his canine butt alongside Jimothy's chair in preference to mine.

"How come you say 'bloody' a lot?"

"I dunno. Maybe it's 'cause I'm a fan of a lot of English bands and singers -- y'know, David Bowie and such. I love the British accent. It rules. By the way, your Florida weather's pretty bloody hot. I'd love a dip in your pool. Do you have a swimsuit I could borrow?"

"We usually skinny dip," Paul chirped, probably in the hope that he could get a good look at Jimothy's jewels. And he wasn't the only one.

"Would that be cool with Nancy?"

"Sure. All the guys who hang here swim in the buff. It's no biggie."

As we stripped, I tried not to make it obvious that I was sneaking the odd peek at our guest's bod -- but from what I could see, he was nicely built and had skin as smooth as a baby's butt. Normally, I wouldn't have been embarrassed about checking out a dude's goodies, but there was something about Jimothy that made me kinda nervous. Maybe it had something to do with his being a singer or whatever -- a dude who demanded more respect than usual. In any case, I didn't have the confidence to be my normal, uninhibited self -- and I'd noticed that Paul's behaviour was pretty reserved as well.

"So it's true," Jimothy smiled after he'd surfaced alongside me and flicked the water from his short-cropped, brown hair.

"What?"

"Your dick. It's bloody huge."

"You noticed?"

"That's a bit like asking the people of Pompeii if they'd noticed the eruption of Mt Vesuvius." He swam a few yards away, tumble turned and surfaced again beside me. "Can I tell you something, Daniel? I know it sounds kinda lamo but you scare me."

"Me?"

"Yeah. It's like I've read every chapter of your diary and I'm thinking like whoa! I'm gonna meet this guy in person! Do you realize how fucking scary that is?"

"No."

"I guess you're used to being you. But, for me, you've always been somebody I've admired from a distance. Wow! I still can't believe I'm actually here!"

"You wanna know something? That's the way I've always thought about you. You scare the hell outa me, too. And you know something else?" I asked as he ran his hands through his wet hair. "Your armpit's just like it was in the pic you sent me."

"Well, I figured I'd bring the same one with me," he cracked, then raised his left arm. "It's one of my fav armpits. I'm seriously thinking of entering it in an armpit competition." At that moment, it was like an instant transformation. Our fear had vanished; replaced by the sudden realization that we were just two guys whose admiration for each other had caused us unnecessary anxiety. "Wanna give me a hug, Daniel?"

Without answering, I threw my arms around his neck and held him tight. "You've got a boner. I can feel it."

"Yours isn't exactly hibernating, either."

"Hey!" Paul shouted. "What about me? Don't I get a hug?"

As the two guys embraced, the urge to be my usual outrageous self overpowered me. I hauled myself outa the pool and stood on the timber decking. "Hey, guys! Wanna see me dive?" They both turned to face me. Jimothy's eyes were as big as plates at the sight of my seven inches stabbing the warm, tropical air.

"Damn! That's bloody awesome!"

"I haven't dove yet."

"Whoa!" he gasped as he swam toward me. "Don't move! I was thinking about this on the drive down here. Jeez! I knew you'd be fucking incredible, but not this fucking incredible! Holy cow!"

"So you don't wanna see me dive?"

"Straight into my face! But not just yet! I wanna drool for a minute. Oh! How I wanna droooool! Damn, you're hot!"

"Jeez," Paul cracked, "he's not that fucking good! Once you get to know to him, like I do, he's just so so. Pretty lamo, actually."

"Fuck off, Paul. Let the dude salivate." As I watched Jimothy gawking at my bod, I suddenly realized what all that stage stuff was about. I was standing on my own stage, and in control of an audience. OK, so it was an audience of one, but it was still an audience, and a mighty important one. The feeling of elation was totally fucking wicked and, I guessed, similar to the satisfaction that he derived from being admired when he was performing. "Can I ask you something, Jimothy?"

"Huh?"

"Yoo hoo! It's me talking -- up here -- past my navel, then just above my chest. See? My mouth is moving."

"Oh, sorry, Daniel," he laughed. "I was kinda focused on something else."

"Do you get a boner when you sing?"

"That's not such a dumb question, Daniel. No, I don't get a hardon on stage 'cause I'm concentrating on singing and pleasing my audience. But, afterwards, when I'm still on a high from performing, yeah, I get kinda sexually stimulated just thinking about it."

"I can't wait to see you perform live at the mall tomorrow night. It's gonna be so damn rad!"

"I've got a feeling you're gonna get your own private performance before then," he grinned.

Greg and Andy arrived home as the sun was beginning to set. After I'd introduced everybody, Greg joined us in the pool. He was nude, but the activity was kept pretty low key. I'd already told Jimothy that Greg was straight, and to chill. That didn't stop Jimothy from eyeballing my bro, though. He was obviously impressed -- but that was understandable. Greg was one helluva good looking dude, and I was sure that my bro was aware of Jimothy's eyes exploring every inch of his shiny, bronzed skin. That was something Greg didn't mind -- in fact, even welcomed -- provided there was no threat to his personal space.

Dinner was a barbecue. During summer, we often ate outdoors in the cool of the evening. Jimothy, like the rest of us teens, was buck naked, but it seemed that he was no longer aware of it -- or, at least, not self conscious. In just one short afternoon, he'd become totally at ease with being nude in our company, which included mom and Andy. "Would you guys like a song?" he asked after we'd done the dishes and returned to the pergola to relax with a beer.

"Oh, Jimothy," mom said, "don't be putting yourself to any trouble on our account."

"Mom!" I wailed.

"It's no trouble, Nancy. I'd like to sing for you. Really."

"Well, if you're sure…" That's as far as mom had gotten when Jimothy's cute buns disappeared through the door on their way to my room where he would fetch his guitar. In a few moments he was back. "Hey, I've just realized something," he laughed, "I've never performed naked before. This is a first!"

Then something amazing happened… well, amazing to me. He positioned his fingers on the fret board, then ran his other hand over the strings of the Yamaha acoustic. A beautiful sound filled the air like magic. Jeez! How could a guy do that? It looked so damn easy, yet I knew that it wasn't. And it wasn't like seeing some dude on MTV. He was right there in our midst, and the sound was fucking real -- not coming through a pair of speakers. I was totally mesmerized.

As Jimothy strummed a few chords, he began his introduction to the song. "The lyrics to this song were written by an English guy named Bernie Taupin, and the music was written by his friend, Elton John. It's about a pretty special guy named... Daniel."

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