I’ll show you my hideout.” Farragut followed him across the grounds to an abandoned water tower. “Well, I’m Jody,” said the stranger brightly, “and I know you’re Farragut but so long as you ain’t homosexual I don’t care what your name is. They were not allowed to speak in the shower, but the stranger, soaping his left shoulder, spread out his palm so that Farragut could read there, written in indelible ink: “Meet me later.” When they had dressed they met at the door. He wore around his neck a simple and elegant gold cross. They had met in the shower, where Farragut had noticed a slight young man with black hair smiling at him. Jody scored at 140 and claimed he had never done so badly. The scores were supposed to be secret, but for a package of cigarettes Tiny told him he had flunked out with 112. He took the test with twentyfour other men, counting blocks and racking his memory for the hypotenuse of the isosceles triangle. In the army this had kept him from any position of command and had saved his life. He had never tested over 119 and had once gone as low as 101. When the time came, Farragut and the others went down to the parole board room to take the intelligence quotient test. The bounteous education of unfortunate convicts was always good for some space in the paper. They guessed that the Fiduciary University was either newborn or on the skids and had resorted to Falconer for publicity. Only five men in cellblock F applied for the course in banking.
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Continue Reading Japanese free classic gay short stories, free gay short stories, gay japanese fiction, gay japanese literature, gay samurais, gay short stories, japanese literature, queer fiction 2 Comments No one ever came by even for brief visits. A spotted Pekinese was his only other companion. His only companion day in and day out was an old man of about the same age, his partner in games of go. Living there was this masterless samurai who in his youth had lost hope of ever regaining official status in a lord’s service and now lived day to day selling his various personal belongings. A crow perched on one end of the dipping stick, a strange sight indeed with its faded tail and wing feathers! In the yard he grew summer chrysanthemums in pots. There was a twisted pine under the eaves and trumpet vines bloomed there in lovely profusion. The meager dwelling where he had quietly lived for many years was situated before a temple gate in Yanaka.
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The owner sold calligraphy manuals done in the style of the Ōhashi school, but his was an old-fashioned hand that few admired, so it proved to be an undependable source of income. “Hemorrhoid Medicine Sold Here Cures All Woes.” This handwritten sign hung outside a tiny shop with a sliding paper door and hanging reed blinds. Women, viewing cherry blossoms, scattered with a broom. The eccentric who kept his natural hairline from birth. As he travelled to Richard’s house to keep their appointment, he realized to his pleasure that he felt decidedly randy.Īge advances, but the heart remains young, The challenge of like to like had been part of his experience but not lately, and the possibility of sparking off a new relationship of this kind could not have been more welcome. The history of Richard’s achievements suggested he might well be Paul’s equal in these respects, and this was appealing to Paul who had long ago dismissed the idea that gay lovers had to be respectively active and passive for sex to go well. This made him very positive in outlook and strong in manner. There was nothing strange in this, for, if he had been late in identifying himself as gay, his eventual acceptance had been without reservations. Paul, however, merely regarded it as an intriguing prospect. The prospect of meeting such a man would be daunting to some. He had been noted for his involvement in gay liberation a decade ago, long before Paul had started to come to terms with his own sexuality. Quite the contrary, in fact, for this stranger was a figure from the past. Yet Paul felt able already to build up a picture in his mind because the name announced on the telephone had not been unfamiliar. Their contact to date had been limited to a single, quite short, telephone conversation. Not that he knew Richard, the man he was about to meet, the man who had placed the gay ad to which he had replied. And in all probability that was equally true of Richard. Paul knew that he possessed none of the characteristics of the gay male stereotype.