Vintage Toys For Lucky Boys

Vintage Toys for Lucky Boys * G.R. Richards

M AX wasn’t at all what Randy expected of an antiques dealer. Even the shop front blew his mind. When Randy thought antiques, he thought rocking chairs and doilies, not classic movie posters and littledolly-wets-her-pants. Thinking back, it’s not like Max even sounded old on the phone. Randy just assumed he was old because of his profession. He came to the shop expecting to meet with some old dude in a bow tie, but how could he complain when Max turned out to be young and incredibly buff? “I’ve got a seller in the back right now,” Max called out as Randy kicked snow from his boots. “I’ll be with you in two minutes.” “No problem,” Randy replied. His voice sounded way too high. It was embarrassing. He pushed it down and tried again. “No problem. I’m early anyway.” Max nodded and rushed back into the room at the rear of the shop. As Randy looked around, flipping though vintage bumper stickers and counting the Felix clocks, he felt a hell of a lot more nervous than he had on the way over. He had such trouble interacting with cute guys now. He never used to. A woman in a hippie skirt and plastic jewelery stepped out of the back room. Flipping her long brown hair behind her shoulder, she called out, “Okay, well I’m outta here. Thanks, Max!” “Thank you,” he called out with a low chuckle. 2

Vintage Toys for Lucky Boys * G.R. Richards She threw her head back, laughing as she walked past Randy. She didn’t take a second look at him, which was always a relief. “Bye bye, beefcake!” “See you next week, draft-dodger,” Max teased as he returned to the shop floor. Looking Randy up and down with a broad smile on his lips, he tapped the glass counter. “Come and show me what you’ve got.” Show me what you’ve got? Clinging to his shoebox, Randy felt like a kid trying to sneak a pet rat past his parents. He couldn’t bring himself to look a smoking hot guy like Max in the eye. His lungs seemed to rattle as he walked over. He felt like his gait wasn’t wide enough, but he was afraid of knocking something off a shelf and having to pay for it. Money was tight; that’s why he was there. When he set his shoebox down on the counter, he accidentally looked up. Max was squinting at him like he’d done something wrong. “I can give you an appraisal, but, just so you know, I can’t buy anything without a parent’s permission.” A wave of relief came over him. Apparently, this cute shop owner liked to joke around with all his customers. Fine. Randy knew how young he looked. He laughed along, even if it was at his own expense. “Yeah, very funny, man.” Max smirked and tilted his head slightly, but he wasn’t laughing. “No, I mean I can’t purchase goods from anyone under eighteen.” As relief brewed humiliation, Randy chuckled nervously. He might as well have taken his box and gone straight home, but that deep, commanding voice in the back of his mind told him, Don’t pack it in! Be a man, Randy! “No worries there. I’m probably older than you are.”

3

Vintage Toys for Lucky Boys * G.R. Richards Laughing, Max leaned back on the stool behind the counter and ran a large hand through short bleached hair. “I seriously doubt that.” When he smiled, his eyes glinted like tinsel on a Christmas tree. He challenged Randy, “Go on, then. How old are you?” “Thirty-two.” “No way,” Max said, crossing his huge arms in front of his black T-shirt. His laughter wasn’t mean-spirited, just incredulous. But, hey, if Randy were in his shoes, he wouldn’t believe it either. “Yeah way, man. How old are you?” he asked, feeling somewhat like an impudent teenager. Why did he ask? What did he care? “Thirty-eight,” Max admitted. Randy shook his head when he realized he’d been staring at Max’s chest, with its gorgeous, surging muscles amply visible under his tight cotton T. He didn’t know what to say next. All he could think to do was tear the guy’s clothes from his flesh, but moves like that tended not to be socially acceptable. Certainly not in antiques shop. “So, what have we got here?” Max finally asked, removing the top from the shoebox. An awed smile broke across his lips as he gazed inside. “Sweet! I wish I saw more of these babies. Where did you get them?” Caught up in Max’s giddiness, he replied, “My old boyfriend gave them to me for Christmas about four years ago.” Randy gasped when he realized what he’d just said. Girlfriend. He meant to say girlfriend, even if that was a lie. When Max looked up from the shoebox, everything seemed to happen in slow motion. His eyebrows cocked in positions of definite interest. His eyes were ice blue without seeming cold. “Nice boyfriend.” 4

Vintage Toys for Lucky Boys * G.R. Richards “Yeah,” Randy agreed. The words came racing past his tongue. He had no idea where they came from or why they were so insistent. “Yeah, Brent was a really nice guy. He broke up with me; I didn’t break up with him. We’d still be together if it was up to me, but, you know, these things happen. We’re actually just getting back to being good friends again now. Anyway, before he dumped me, he gave me all these toys. For Christmas. I said that already, didn’t I? I did. I know. Sorry, I’m talking too much. I’ll shut up now.” Max sat with a huge smirk on his face and his back impeccably straight. Randy still couldn’t get over how huge his arms were. They looked like two great big snow-white cocks. “You know, I saw this thing on TV, on a science show,” Randy started up again. Why the hell was he still talking? He tried to stop himself, but no use. In fact, the more resonance he developed in his voice, the more he enjoyed listening to himself speak. Even if he had nothing relevant or even interesting to say. Like right now. “Do you know where the word muscle comes from? It’s from the Greek….” “That sounds about right,” Max interrupted with a deep chuckle. Thinking back, Randy said, “Actually, maybe it’s from Latin. One or the other. Anyway, the word muscle comes from the word for mouse, because they thought writhing muscles looked like little mice running around under your skin.” Max flexed his biceps and in seconds Randy’s packer was wet with lube. He could feel it drooling down Mr. Limpy as Max turned his fists in and out. Mice the size of raccoons raced back and forth under his white flesh. Randy had to wonder how much of his arousal was attraction and how much was jealousy. Fuck, he’d give anything— anything—to look like Max. Why couldn’t he be a tall, hot muscle-god? It didn’t seem to matter what Randy lifted, he never put on muscle like 5

Vintage Toys for Lucky Boys * G.R. Richards that. And he was starting out with a distinct disadvantage. “It does look like mice, doesn’t it?” Max replied, interrupting Randy’s unachievable reverie of throat-fucking the muscle hunk. “Yeah, entomology’s funny,” Randy said. He didn’t want to, but he felt himself pressing up against the glass case. He was so damn juicedup, he let himself writhe a bit against his silicon piece. It felt so good. “Etymology,” Max corrected. “Huh?” It’s not that he liked to get off on his own packer, especially not in public, but Max’s ripped body made him horny as hell. Max stretched his arms far out like a witch on the rack. His muscles twinged as he extended his fingers before bringing them back in and shaking them out. “Etymology is the study of word origins,” he said. “Entomology is the study of insects.” “Oh,” Randy replied. He could feel his face turning red from embarrassment, and that made him feel like an even bigger fuck-up. “It’s a common mistake,” Max went on. “People are always mixing up those two words.” Brains and brawn? Randy was becoming seriously interested in this guy. If he offered him the big bucks for his box of toys, Randy might have to proposition him on the spot. “So, what do you think? Are they worth anything?” “Worth anything?” Max chuckled, picking one of the wind-up toys out of the box and setting it on the glass countertop. “Where did your boyfriend say he got these from?” “I think he said they were German,” Randy replied, picking up his favorite of the little toys—a weird-looking gnome guy with a toadstool 6

Vintage Toys for Lucky Boys * G.R. Richards for a hat. “Yeah, they’re German. That’s a definite.” Setting the gnome dude down on the countertop, he wound the key and the little guy’s arms and legs flailed like an epileptic troll. “His grandfather brought them home after the war. World War Two. That was long before Brent was born, obviously.” Randy trapped the gnome in his hands before it could throw itself off the counter. “Brent was pretty pissed when his grandpa died and only left him a shoebox of toys. They were really close.” Max laughed, throwing his head back and clapping his hands. “Some inheritance!” “Yeah, that’s what Brent said.” “No, I mean it,” Max went on. “Zero sarcasm here. If my grandfather left me a box of pre-war Schuco wind-ups, I’d have opened up my business years sooner.” A thrill of a chill went down Randy’s spine. “So, you’re saying they’re worth a lot?” When Max dug into the shoebox, he smiled like Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland. He lined up seven of the strange little men side by side on the counter. “I guess you know who these guys are.” Randy picked up the first gnome, armed with a pickaxe, and wound him up. As he chopped a path across the counter, Randy said, “They always reminded me of, like, a cult of murderous leprechauns or something. Don’t you think they look sort of evil?” “No,” Max scoffed. Using a toothpick-like pointer, he drew attention to its pink painted-on lips. “Look at that darling little face. He’s smiling at you! How could you think he was evil?” 7

Vintage Toys for Lucky Boys * G.R. Richards It seemed odd for a man with so many muscles to use a word like darling. Randy smirked. “I don’t trust people who seem happy. I figure they must either be really stupid or have something up their sleeves.” “That’s too bad,” Max replied. His expression was pitying, like he took him a little too seriously. Although, Randy meant what he said. Smiley faces bugged the shit out of him. “All right, I’ll give you a hint. What if I told you this set was missing one figure?” With a shrug, Randy said, “Dude, I have no clue. Brent never mentioned what they were supposed to be.” Max sighed, shaking his head. He wasn’t going to give up until Randy figured it out. “Just one figure,” he went on like a grade-school teacher. “A female figure. Seven little men and….” “Snow White!” Of course! He felt like a total moron not guessing it right off the bat. “Snow White and the seven dwarves.” “Am I right in thinking you don’t have Snow White anywhere?” Thinking back through the years, Randy tried to visualize the shelf in Brent’s bedroom where he’d put them after his grandfather died. “No, I don’t remember ever seeing a Snow White. What about all those other little ones in there?” he asked, pulling a fuzzy rabbit from the shoebox. “Oh, those are nothing,” Max replied, waving the rabbit away. Randy put it back in the box. “The animals are a hundred. They all run okay, right?” “Yeah,” Randy said, though he’d never actually played with them. When Max bent forward to turn the keys on each of the seven dwarves, his intense man-scent smacked Randy in the face. It was a physical aroma, raw but clean, like a hot, soapy shower at the gym. Once that scent invaded his lungs, he didn’t want to breathe out. He 8

Vintage Toys for Lucky Boys * G.R. Richards wanted to keep it inside him forever. A slight wave of guilt passed through him when he realized he was selling off Brent’s inheritance. Was it really awful of him to get rid of the lot for… wait, how much? A hundred bucks just for the animals? He didn’t think he’d get that for the whole shoebox. “If you had the Snow White, I could hook you up with a buyer who’d give you ten for them all. It’s too bad. He won’t purchase an incomplete set.” Randy mulled the words over, but couldn’t make sense of them. “Give me ten… ten what?” “Ten thousand,” Max replied without looking up from the last of the gnomes. Was this place in the twilight zone or something? It was a box of toys, for Christ’s sake! With a pronounced gulp, Randy squeaked a syllable and then stopped to push his voice back down. For someone who didn’t want to seem like a total moron, he was doing a mighty fine job of it. “Ten thousand dollars?” Max looked him up and down with a forgiving smirk. “Remember, that would be if you had the full set, which you don’t.” He must have been thinking, Not another one of these schmucks! What does he think this is, Antiques Roadshow? “That missing Snow White’s going to cost you. I can offer five thousand.” If he’d been sitting, Randy would have fallen off his chair. As it was, he grasped the counter to stay upright. This had to be a joke. Someone was setting him up. There was no other explanation. A bunch of stupid toys couldn’t possibly be worth so much. Randy was utterly at a loss for words, which seemed to make Max think he’d caused offense. “Oh, I’m sorry. I always assume 9

Vintage Toys for Lucky Boys * G.R. Richards everybody wants to sell. Were you just looking for an evaluation?” “No!” Randy cried. He clutched at his chest, but of course he couldn’t feel his heartbeat under so many bulky layers of clothing. “No, I definitely want to sell. Jeez, I was just hoping for enough to get my mom a cordless drill for Christmas. With fifty-one hundred, I could fill a workshop.” Winding his way through the animals, Max asked, “Fifty-one? Your math’s off, little dude.” Counting up the “cheap” toys, he said, “At one hundred a piece over here, you’ve got a good sixty-five coming to you, if you’re sure you want to sell.” “Oh, I do, I do,” Randy said, suppressing the urge to do his happy dance all around the shop. This must be what brides felt like on their wedding days—like they were set for life. “Good,” Max replied, so calmly Randy wanted to shake him. Kiss him? Maybe. “Honestly, there’s not much to these little guys, but with the holidays coming people will snap them up like nobody’s business.” Kiss him? Definitely. Reaching across the counter, Randy grabbed Max by the scruff of his thick neck. Everything went slow-mo as he leaned in for the kill. When his eager lips came within two centimetres of Max’s, the muscle-god turned his head downwards while Randy was still moving forward. He smacked Randy’s chin with his nose, causing him to look down just as his chest met the lineup of toys. In one swift motion, Max put his hands out to guard the wind-up windfall, but in the process his built forearm met Randy’s chest. He’d never moved so fast in his life. In fact, Randy could hardly fathom how he’d managed to get from one end of the shop to the other—without breaking anything—in about three seconds. All he 10

Vintage Toys for Lucky Boys * G.R. Richards knew was that he couldn’t catch his breath. His whole body seemed to be shaking as he shielded his chest with his arms, staring with alarm at a very still antiques dealer. When Max spoke up, Randy was sure he knew everything. “I’m really sorry, man. I didn’t mean to…” he chuckled nervously. Was that a nervous chuckle? Or was Randy reading too much into it, as usual? “Just protecting your treasures.” It seemed like ages before he could breathe again. How could Max possibly have felt anything? He couldn’t have. Randy was bound tight as the foot of a Chinese empress. God, what a terrible comparison. Why would he think a thing like that? He must have picked it up online somewhere, from one of those forum-lurking degenerates. Why was everybody an ass-face except him? He shook his head. “Sorry. I’m just a little jumpy. I don’t get as much sleep as I should these days.” Max placed each toy gently back inside the shoebox before grabbing a photocopied form and his checkbook from the back counter. A checkbook? Damn it. He figured it would be two hundred bucks tops for the shoebox. He’d get a couple fifties and be on his way. He’d have to think on his feet now. “So, if we’ve got a deal, I’ll just get your personal information, and we can finish up our transaction.” Transaction. Trans-action. God, he knew. He knew everything. Randy could feel the sweat trickling down his pits and wetting his binder. But how could he take off with sixty five hundred hanging in the balance? He was overreacting, as usual. How could Max possibly know? “Name?” “Randy,” he replied softly. Max chuckled as he leaned over the form. “I know your first 11

Vintage Toys for Lucky Boys * G.R. Richards name. What’s your last name?” “Oh,” he hesitated. He cleared his throat and tried to hit a deeper pitch, but his alarm raised it up and up. “It’s Venner. V-e-n-n-e-r.” “Address?” Randy sounded like a girl when he replied, and that made him hate the process. It almost made him hate Max for asking the questions, but not quite. There was something about Max that seemed really accepting. He walked a little closer to the back of the shop, so that he reached the counter just as Max announced, “All right, now all I need to see is a piece of photo ID, and I can write you a check.” The sweat that had all but evaporated came back like a tidal wave. Randy went corpse-cold. How could he get around showing ID? He didn’t want to leave without a check in hand. The price seemed too good to be true. He pushed his voice down. “Actually, funny story. I don’t actually have any photo ID. I don’t drive, so no license, and I don’t travel, so no passport.” He tried to sound smooth as he chuckled, but he knew he was coming across as criminally nervous. “Okay,” Max said with an understanding nod. “Well, legally, I do need to collect personal information and see ID in order to make the purchase. Do you have, like a student card and a credit card, or a… I don’t know. What’s in your wallet? ” A sense of desperation overcame Randy as he realized he’d never get his hands on the money for his mom’s Christmas gift. The last thing he wanted to seem was argumentative, but a sense of irritation built like a volcano in him until he burst with, “Why do you need to see my ID? I don’t get that. What, you don’t believe Brent gave that stuff to me? You think I stole it or something? Is that what this is all about? Because I am not a crook.”

12

Vintage Toys for Lucky Boys * G.R. Richards Dammit! He didn’t mean to throw a Nixon quote in there, but it certainly colored Max’s reaction. Instead of getting all self-righteous, he just laughed. “Yeah, man, I know, but that’s the law and I have to follow it. For all I know, you could be an undercover cop looking to bust me.” His kind gaze softened Randy to the point where he couldn’t bear to argue. But what could he say? If he claimed he’d left his wallet at home, Max would just tell him to go and get it. Anywhere else, he’d have been long gone, but there was something encouraging in Max’s demeanor. The more he looked him in the eye, the more Randy thought this might be a safe place. His friendly gaze sparked the image of the hippie woman leaving the shop as he’d arrived. She was very tall, with broad shoulders. Max had called her a draft-dodger, hadn’t he? Vietnam was way before his time, of course, but even Randy knew only men were drafted to war. Only men would have come up to Canada to dodge the draft. In an ultra-casual motion, Max picked up his toothpick-pointerthing. He tapped at the plastic sign indicating which credit cards his shop accepted. Behind the sign, on the old-school cash register was a sticker that made Randy’s heart jump. At the top of the decal was a rainbow flag, and on the bottom there was a familiar pink triangle containing the transgender symbol of a Mars arrow, a Venus cross, and a combination of the two all joined by a central ring. In the middle were the words “Friendly Space.” Randy stared at the sticker. On the one hand, it was a clear indication Max had read him. Why else would he have uncovered the sticker? If boys could cry, he would have cried. Instead, he bit his lip and suppressed the hurt. And, God, did it ever hurt when someone could tell he was FTM. On the other hand, he had to feel indebted to Max for his class. Instead of just calling him out, he’d displayed some subtlety. He’d 13

Vintage Toys for Lucky Boys * G.R. Richards given Randy the opportunity to disclose or not to disclose. He had a choice, and the gentle and encouraging look in Max’s eye made the whole situation a little easier to handle. Not that it was easy easy; he wondered if he was being set up, but couldn’t bring himself to believe any trans-basher would have that friendly space sticker up in his shop. His mind showed him a slide show of every negative situation that could arise out of disclosing, but in his heart he knew Max was a good person. He knew Max wouldn’t hurt him. Wiping his sweating hands on his cargo pants, he grabbed for his wallet and slid out his folded-up passport.

Surname/Nom: VENNER Given Names/Prénoms: JENNIFER ANN Nationality/Nationalité: CANADIAN/CANADIENNE Date of Birth/Date de naissance: 24 APR / AVR 1977 Sex/Sexe: F

He held his breath as he handed it over to Max. Somewhat ashamed and somewhat bashful, he said, “I haven’t changed it yet.” Max took a look to confirm and then passed the ID back to Randy. His voice was smooth and receptive when he asked, “Why not?” As quick as he could, Randy folded it up and shoved it back in his wallet. “I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “Just… everything costs money, you know?” Nodding, Max said, “One hundred and thirty seven dollars, last time I checked.”

14

Vintage Toys for Lucky Boys * G.R. Richards Randy looked straight up at him, trying not to seem too shocked. It was just a really random figure to know with such precision. “Yeah.” “I have an ex who’s trans,” he said. Randy felt a smile growing across his cheeks as Max walked toward the back room. He offered an inviting nod and went on, “I still have strong ties to the community. Want to sit down for a coffee? I know how hard it is to find allies in the big bad world.” “Sure!” Randy cried before thoughts of rat poison and Arsenic and Old Lace clouded his vision. Why did he have to be so suspicious of everyone? Because there were people out there who could and would do him real harm, given the opportunity. He had to protect himself. The back room might have once looked spacious—like on blueprints—but was now overrun with boxes and stuff. In its own era, before houses on this street had been converted to shops and offices, this room had probably been the kitchen of a family home. Back in the corner, there was a vintage fridge. The dingy window looked out onto a snow-covered garden. From the trellises and structures, he could tell it was extensive in the growing season. “I’m not much of a gardener,” Max explained. “When I bought this house, it came with so much land in the back that I rented out gardening plots to apartment-dwellers up the street.” “That’s a good idea,” Randy said, pondering what he might possibly be able to rent out. Probably nothing. “Yeah, and they say money doesn’t grow on trees.” Randy smiled as Max retrieved two mugs from the cupboard. One was shaped like the Roadrunner’s head. The other was pinkybeige with a penis growing out the side for a handle. He thought he should find that one funny, but it seemed inexplicably jarring. “I’ll take the Roadrunner,” he said. “Unless it’s yours.” 15

Vintage Toys for Lucky Boys * G.R. Richards “Well, they’re all mine now,” Max replied, pouring out two cups of coffee. “The handles on these novelty mugs break off like nothing. Lots of people will come into the shop, they’re looking at a mug, and the handle just comes off in their hands. I glue them back on, but the value is so low I just end up stocking my kitchen with them. I’ve got more mugs than I can handle. Cream and sugar?” “Black is good for me,” Randy replied. Max handed him the Roadrunner, laughing, “Once you go black….” “Yeah,” he chuckled. When Max offered him a seat at the table by the window, he sat in the one padded vintage chair that wasn’t piled sky-high with papers and crap. It felt so cozy to be sitting in a warm kitchen with Max. “Hey, I can just picture that cock snapping off in some guy’s hand. He must have gone beet red.” Topping the penis mug with cream from the fridge, Max nodded toward the window. “No, this little guy was a gift from one of my gardeners, Mrs. Pham. Older lady, but she just loves me.” Picking up a pile of file folders from one of the kitchen chairs, he looked all around for somewhere to put it. There were already masses of papers everywhere, so he tossed it on the floor. “All summer she was trying to set me up with her granddaughter, saying, ‘If Huong is going to date white boys, I should be able to choose which ones.’” “Oh no,” Randy chuckled, sipping his coffee. Very gourmet. Good stuff. “Yeah,” Max said with a giving smile. “And I kept making my excuses, but this lovely woman had tunnel vision: I was going to date her granddaughter. That was that. So one day, I finally had to say, ‘You know, Huong sounds lovely, but I’m gay. I date men.’”

16

Vintage Toys for Lucky Boys * G.R. Richards When Max paused to sip from his penis mug, Randy asked, “What did she say?” He placed the mug down on the 1950s gold-specked tabletop, smiling as he swallowed. “She didn’t say anything at the time. She just kept on gardening with a scowl on her face. I thought she’d pack up her magic beans and never come back to my garden.” “Did she?” Taking another sip, Max nodded. “After the weekend, she came back with this thing. Found it at a flea market, she said, and thought of me right away. ‘Because you like the boys’. It was hilarious. She was just glowing, with this impish look on her face. It was great.” “Yeah,” he agreed. “Sometimes people really surprise you. That was like my mom when I sort of came out to her.” When he said those words, came out, he looked down into his coffee, but when he’d finished his sentence he looked up to find Max nodding. “I mean, she probably sort of had a sense for a long time. We still live together and everything, so there’s a lot of interaction there. And, you know, a lot of the ‘guy stuff’ I grew up doing was right there alongside my mom. All the sports and the fixing stuff around the house, you know? I learned all that from her. So she understood, when I told her how I felt. I guess I knew she’d understand and that’s why I was so okay with talking about it. I wasn’t even all that surprised when she said she’d had some of those same feelings, just not so strong as me, I guess.” “Sounds like a good mom you’ve got there,” Max replied, absently running his fingertips along the penis-handle on his mug. “Yeah,” he said. He couldn’t keep himself from smiling at the thought of her acceptance. “She’s really great. That’s why I decided to sell those toys Brent gave me. I wanted to get her something incredible for Christmas. Bagging groceries for a living, you know, the 17

Vintage Toys for Lucky Boys * G.R. Richards money’s tight.” “I hear that,” Max replied. When he got up and walked to the counter for a top-up, Randy realized his Roadrunner was still almost full up. He took another sip. “Try being an entrepreneur. You spend the first few years of your business working fourteen-hour days seven days a week and still owing everybody else money. You kiss your social life goodbye when you take on a business, that’s for sure. I’m only at the point now where I could even consider either taking on staff or finding a good guy.” “Unless the staffer and the guy were the same person,” Randy cut in. “Then every workday would be like a date night. God, wouldn’t that be awesome?” It was only after he’d said it that it struck him how he sounded. A little like, You can hire me and date me. How’s about it? Max must have thought he was totally desperate. But Max seemed to be mulling over something altogether different as he fixed his coffee with cream. “So, how do they pay you at your work, if you haven’t changed your ID yet?” The question made Randy nervous… or embarrassed… or something like that. He didn’t want to answer. He didn’t answer. Max returned to the table. Sitting across from Randy, he asked very casually, “Do you still identify girl at work?” Ashamed. That was the name of the feeling Randy had tapped. “I pretty much dress the same, except I don’t bind. It would just be so weird because I’ve been working at the same supermarket since high school. I’ve known some of those people for like fifteen years, and they all call me Jen. It was one thing explaining the whole situation to my mom. I don’t want to have to explain myself to a hundred other people. I don’t want to go to work fearing for my safety, you know?” “I know,” Max said right away. “Oh, you’re preaching to the choir, 18

Vintage Toys for Lucky Boys * G.R. Richards man. But, I tell you, once my ex—his name was Jack—once he started on T and really got chin-deep into the whole thing, he became so much more comfortable in his own skin. It works wonders, having that piece of ID with your chosen name on it and having those hormones coursing through your body.” “It all just seems so huge, you know?” Randy said. “The hormones, the ID, the telling everybody I’m a guy now, and then surgeries if I go that far. I definitely want top surgery, but I don’t know about bottom. It’s dangerous, I hear, and sure I’d have a penis, but it wouldn’t work. And everything’s got a price tag on it.” Max nodded. “Well, you know, some things are covered by Medicare, but you’re right—not everything. And, hey, you’re sixty-five hundred dollars richer today, remember. Go ask your friend Brent what other toys he’s got squirreled away. Maybe we can put a few more dollars in your many pockets,” he chuckled, pointing his penis mug down at Randy’s cargo pants. But Randy was off in fairyland. “How did your guy, Jack, get through it all?” “With my help,” Max replied. He laughed, shaking his head. “That sounded way too self-congratulatory, but you know what I mean: it helps to have friends you can rely on. Yes, Jack lost some friends along the way, but he gained others through a social support group downtown. He was lucky to work with a doctor who really understood trans folks. I’m not saying he was shooting sunshine out his ass every day of the week, but his transition was smoother than some peoples’.” With a surge of jealousy toward this unknown Jack, Randy said, “Wow, I wish I had someone like you in my life.” “Well,” Max began, shrugging his deliciously huge shoulders. He looked out the window. It had started snowing again outside. “I know 19

Vintage Toys for Lucky Boys * G.R. Richards we just met, and I don’t want you to feel like I’m taking up a cause here, but if you want my support, you’ve got it.” When Max reached his hand across the table, Randy was overcome with an emotion that could only be described as love. Christ, he couldn’t be falling for this guy. Why, when he’d only be rejected? But, then, there was Max’s palm face-up on the table. Maybe it wasn’t an offer of marriage, but it was obviously an offer of something. Now Randy didn’t know if he ought to shake it, slap it, or slip his own hand into it. He stared at that palm until it reached up, grabbed his arm, and shook him. “Okay, fine,” Max laughed. “I’ll take my support and give it to some other trans guy in need.” “No,” Randy cried. He sounded so whiny. Pushing his voice down, he said, “No, I want your help. I need someone who knows the ropes, because I really do want to push forward.” Setting his Roadrunner mug down on the table, he reached over to place his hand on Max’s. “There’s so much I don’t know, and you know how it is out in the world of guys: you always need to be the best. You can’t falter or ask questions. You always need to be in command, be authoritative.” “You don’t have to,” Max countered, flipping his palm around until they were holding hands. “There are all different ways of expressing masculinity. Look at me—I play with dolls for a living— and do you think anyone would ever accuse me of not being a man?” “Hell, no,” Randy replied, eyeing his great chest. “But look at your muscles. That’s what gives you the Olympic edge.” Max shrugged like they weren’t a big deal. “Once we get you on T, you’ll put them on like wildfire.” “Is that what happened with your Jack?” A reflective smile melted across Max’s lips as he gazed out to the 20

Vintage Toys for Lucky Boys * G.R. Richards back garden. He slipped his hand out of Randy’s. “The testosterone changed Jack in more ways than one, but that was okay. He was becoming more himself.” Throughout the pregnant pause that followed, Randy drank his coffee and watched Max’s face as he escaped to the land of memory. Finally, Max continued, “I won’t say the T turned him straight, but it really brought to the fore a newfound love of boobies and pussies and all things related to skirt-chasing. It was hard for me, at first. I felt like I’d helped him so much along the way and suddenly he was leaving me high and dry. But, you know, we all experience our progressions in life, and I guess that was Jack’s.” Randy stared into his coffee for a while, wondering if the same thing would happen to him. He didn’t think so. He hoped not. If he was going to be attracted to girls, wouldn’t he have been there already? “Most of the trans guys I chat with online say they went through a period of seeing themselves as butch dykes before realizing they were trans. That never happened for me. I never liked girls. I didn’t even like being friends with girls when I was a kid.” “Oh, I played with the girls when I was a kid,” Max said. “My mom thought it was cute. My father hated it.” “Nope, no girls for me. Even when I was in high school, I hung out with the boys. But at that point, I didn’t really know how I fit in with them yet. I was pretty slutty. I liked it though, because I felt… I don’t know… it’s hard to describe,” Randy said, thinking back through the years. “At the time, I kind of saw them as gay for sleeping with me. I liked to take it from behind and picture myself as a kind of a twink bottom with a totally flat chest taking it up the ass. I mean, I was pretty flat-chested anyway, so it wasn’t much of a stretch, but I remember feeling like I was initiating all these ‘straight’ guys into a different world. But, you know, we’re all so immature in high school. Now I can’t even imagine what I’d do in bed with a guy.” 21

Vintage Toys for Lucky Boys * G.R. Richards Max’s eyebrows seemed to rise for a split-second before he could get them under control. “Can’t you?” Randy looked back at him with a crooked grin. “Why? Do you have any suggestions?” “Absolutely,” he said with a proud smile. “First off, you need to know where your no zones are. I mean, you need to be able to communicate to your partner where you aren’t comfortable being touched.” “Oh, that’s easy,” Randy said, picking up his coffee. “Everywhere.” “Well, that narrows it down,” Max laughed. “By everywhere, is it safe to assume you mean your chest and your…” When he paused to clear his throat, Randy chuckled. The bashfulness seemed so uncharacteristic. “Lower parts?” Randy nodded. “Yeah.” He brought the Roadrunner mug to his mouth before deciding he really didn’t feel like any more coffee. “It’s weird. It’s like I want a boyfriend, but I don’t go for it because… I don’t know….” “You want a guy who sees you as a guy,” Max suggested. “Yeah, exactly.” “But you know you’ll have to disclose soon enough, and you’re afraid he’ll stop seeing you for who you are.” “Exactly!” Randy cried. He couldn’t believe there was someone out in the world who understood him so well after knowing him for only half an hour or so. There was an instant spark, an instant affinity, and he wondered with all his heart if Max saw it too. “And on the offchance I found a guy who saw me as a guy, what are the chances he would be able to respect my need not to fuck? It just seems like that could never happen, you know? And I don’t want to be the trans guy 22

Vintage Toys for Lucky Boys * G.R. Richards who runs around sucking every cock on the block. Anyone can hand out blowjobs. I need to know a guy respects who I am, you know?” With a caring smile, Max said, “Oh, I understand completely, little man.” Max looked him straight in the eye with a gaze of absolute honesty before saying, “I mean it. I understand what you’re going through.” This time, Randy held out his hand, setting his mug off to the side. Max placed a much larger palm on top of his and left it there. His smile was so open and giving, Randy wanted to jump him on the spot. Of course, the body he pictured doing the jumping had no boobs and no pussy. It was a guy’s body—flat where it ought to be, and protruding in one particular place. What he wouldn’t give to feel Max suck his cock… the cock he didn’t have. And that was exactly the reason he didn’t like thinking about sex. “You know,” Max said, observing the obvious sadness in Randy’s face. “Sex doesn’t have to mean one man fucking another man.” He brought Randy’s hand close to his mouth and slowly kissed each knuckle. Randy thought his heart would explode if his throbbing lowers didn’t get there first. “Sex can be anything from a lusting gaze, to calling a guy up and telling him what you’re going to do to him when you get together, to….” Looking up at Randy, Max flattened out his fingers. “Have you ever considered how many body parts guys and girls both have? I mean, even cocks and clits have the same origins in the womb.” “Yeah,” Randy considered. How could all this possibly be happening? What exactly was happening? “But how does that help me now?” When Max ran his fingers along Randy’s, he just about jumped out of his skin. It felt so damn good, being touched like that. But what 23

Vintage Toys for Lucky Boys * G.R. Richards felt best of all was knowing Max knew his secret and still saw him as a guy, through and through. “Well,” Max said, bringing Randy’s fingers close to his pouty pink lips. “Everybody has fingers. And I happen to have firsthand knowledge of how great it feels they come in contact with a warm mouth and a fierce tongue.” “Oh,” Randy panted, absolutely breathless. His mind was a mess. He couldn’t think what to say. “Has anybody ever sucked your fingers, Randy?” His whole body throbbed like a hard cock, not just at the mention of finger-sucking, but on hearing his name spoken by that gorgeous set of lips. “No, never.” “Do you want me to?” Max offered. His smile was so accepting, and so giving, Randy couldn’t have said no if he wanted to. “Please, yes,” he moaned as Max slipped the tip of his index finger into his coffee-hot mouth. He nearly flattened himself on the 1950s kitchen table as Max sucked his finger all the way in, right to the knuckle. The warm, pulsing sensation of his tongue made Randy ooze with juice. Max was about the hottest guy he’d ever seen, and there on the other side of the table he was slipping Randy’s middle finger into his mouth. Sliding his gorgeous lips all the way to the knuckles of those two fingers, he slid his tongue between them. When Max licked that crease between finger one and finger two, Randy couldn’t contain himself. God, yes. Suck it! “You like that, do you?” Max asked, grinning even with two fingers in his mouth. “Fuck, yeah,” he roared, clawing at the table. “Give to me.” Max sucked his fingertips, running his bottom teeth against the pads. It was the warmth and the wetness that made it so good. 24

Vintage Toys for Lucky Boys * G.R. Richards “Should we go for three?” “Fuck, yeah!” Randy repeated. He was too consumed by pleasure to think up something original to say. But there was enough originality in this whole situation to make up for it. Wrapping his mouth around three fingertips, Max slid his tongue down their underbellies. That strong slab of hot flesh undulated, rising up and around his wet fingers. It felt so incredibly good, Randy couldn’t keep himself from moving his hand in and out of Max’s receptive mouth. He couldn’t get over the hot sensation of firm fingers penetrating a gorgeous guy. He’d never experienced anything like it before, like he was giving it to Max and Max was gladly taking it. Even so, he knew Max had ultimate control over the situation. All he had to do was stop and leave Randy high and dry. Max held Randy’s hand in both of his and took his pinky into his mouth. Four fingers got their due in that warm, wet hot tub of an opening. Max was a godsend. Nobody else could have shown him this kind of pleasure without disrespecting his identity. But, then, the disrespect would have negated the pleasure anyway. With Max, his body went wild until he was writhing in his chair. More than that, he realized he was growling and panting and moaning—wearing all the vocal accoutrements of the highly orgasmic. The more Max sucked his fingers, the harder it became to keep himself from shouting, “Fuck, yes! God that’s good. That feels so good!” In the distance, a set of bells jangled, and it took a few seconds before Randy realized someone had entered the shop. Sliding wet fingers from an incredibly hot mouth, Max pressed Randy’s hands between his and said, “I’m sorry. I totally lost track of the time. Will you stay right here while I deal with this appraisal?” Randy nodded, his mouth hanging wide open. Where would he 25

Vintage Toys for Lucky Boys * G.R. Richards go after such an intense happening? Though, as Max went into the shop, he did get up to wash the hot saliva from his hands. He listened in on their conversation. The seller’s voice was jarring. He was glad to be hiding in another room. “Guess business isn’t going too well for you, eh?” she jabbed at him. Max’s voice hardened a tad. “Why do you say that?” She cackled in response. “No customers!” “I guess your vast powers of perception didn’t enable you to make out the closed sign in the window,” he replied. “Mondays, I only do appraisals and appointments. The shop will be open tomorrow, and you can see for yourself all the customers I get in here.” Listening to their conversation, Randy felt irritated on Max’s behalf. He hated the condescending way that woman talked to him. Empathy. God, he really was falling for Max, wasn’t he? But he judged, from the way Max looked him in the eye through the whole fingersucking thing, that he felt the same way. “God, I just wanted to punch her,” Randy said, coming out into the shop after the woman left. “Yeah,” Max considered, “but punching people is seriously bad for business.” Stretching out his arm, he pulled Randy in close for a side-by-side hug. “What really got me is that she’s kind of right. People don’t want to shop in bricks-and-mortar stores anymore; they want to buy stuff online. I wouldn’t even know how to start expanding my business.” “Seriously?” Randy asked. He thought every relatively young person now bought and sold stuff online. He’d done both about a million times. “I could set you up easy. Want me to?” Max looked at him with a nearly blank expression. “You know 26

Vintage Toys for Lucky Boys * G.R. Richards how to do all that stuff?” “Dude, everybody knows how to do that stuff.” “I don’t,” Max admitted. With a forgiving chuckle, Randy said, “Okay, everybody but you. Are you registered with a shipping company?” “No….” “Okay, I’ll get you set up with a business account. That’s the first step. Then I’ll just have to create a website for you….” “You know how to do that?” Max asked, still with an air of disbelief. “It all seems so complicated.” Randy shook his head. “Trust me, it isn’t. We’ll set you up on auction sites and… oh God, what else? I’ll look into other avenues.” He realized his heart was hopping in his chest just like it had when Max took his fingers in hand. He’d never been so excited about the prospect of helping someone’s business. A pearly smile streaked across Max’s face. “Do you think you can get all this going in time for the Christmas rush? I can’t even imagine the money we’d make.” “It’ll be a lot of work, but yeah,” Randy said. His heart was racing. “Wait… we?” “Well, yeah. Of course,” Max replied. He was beaming with excitement too. Randy could tell by the look in his eyes. “You think I’m looking for slave laborers? No way. I need a web guy, and I’ll pay you what you’re worth. Can you start right away?” He couldn’t believe the whirlwind of happenings. In one day, he’d gone from grocery girl to web guy. The excitement was overwhelming, like an ice cream headache coupled with a sugar high. “Yeah,” Randy 27

Vintage Toys for Lucky Boys * G.R. Richards gushed. “I mean, I’ll have to quit the supermarket, but I can work with you around my shifts until my two weeks’ notice is up.” Max gave him an approving nod. “I like a man with professional integrity. Very classy.” Looking up into Max’s gorgeous face and caring eyes, Randy couldn’t control his appetite. He took a chance. Standing up on his toes, he kissed the muscle-god-slash-antiques-dealer full-on. He’d already met Max’s mouth, but not like this. Randy always considered kissing the most intimate act in existence. To put his head in someone’s hands and his tongue in someone’s mouth seemed so private, he could never kiss in public. Max leaned down as their hot tongues mingled, only breaking away to say, “Wow.” “Wow,” Randy repeated. His heart was definitely about to explode. Max leaned against the glass case. “You’re a good kisser. That made me weak in the knees.” Randy smiled, standing upright and erect. “So are you.” They stood at the back of the shop, gazing at each other like a pair of grade-school boys who’d put a tack on the teacher’s chair. They were in on something, and in on it together. “Oh,” Max said, shaking his head out of dreamland and back to business. “I still need to write you a check.” “That’s right,” Randy recalled. With a sigh, Max said, “Now, tell me, who should I make it out to?” Tricky. After all the encouragement and offers of long-standing support, Randy really wanted to speed up his transition. First thing was first: he’d change his name. Officially. “How about this,” Randy 28

Vintage Toys for Lucky Boys * G.R. Richards said. “Make out one check to Jennifer. It should be enough to cover the one hundred and thirty seven dollar name change and a really great Christmas gift for my mom. Make out the rest to Randy. That way I can’t cash it until I’ve changed my papers and my accounts.” “Great idea,” Max said, writing them out. “That way you know you’ve got a big, fat check waiting as your reward.” “Exactly,” Randy replied, watching him work. He couldn’t believe all the papers everywhere. Picking up the page with his girl name and address on it, he asked, “Wait, do you not enter any of this information into a database or anything?” Max shot him a sheepish grin and shrugged. “If you want to take on that task, you’re welcome to it.” “I just don’t know how you can stay organized without a computer,” Randy chuckled as Max handed him the checks. “If you want to get me organized, you’re welcome to that task too.” Randy laughed out loud as he considered the word, “Organized. Organ-ized….” Catching his drift, Max smiled. “If you ever want me to organ-ize you, just say the word.” “If any man does, it’ll be you,” Randy said, inching toward the front door. It wasn’t idle flirtation, either. He really meant it. “Anyway, man, I’m going to take off and quit my job. I’ve never gone there bound, but I guess I’m feeling extra confident. Today’s a new beginning, and it’s all thanks to you.” “Aw, shucks,” Max replied in mock-bashfulness. “I’m a minor player.” 29

Vintage Toys for Lucky Boys * G.R. Richards “No, man, I’m serious,” Randy went on. “I just came here looking for money to buy my mom a great Christmas gift. You’ve given me the money to buy a new life and a job where I can work as myself.” Taking Randy by the arms, Max squeezed his growing biceps. “You forgot the most important part.” Randy took a hopeful breath in. “Oh, yeah?” “Yeah,” Max replied, leaning in to plant a hot kiss on his lips. “I’ll give you support. I’ll give you encouragement. I’ll give you a hand to hold and lips to kiss and so much more, if that’s what you want.” He couldn’t move, except to say, “I do.” With a chuckle, Max said, “Christmas came early this year, huh?” Randy nodded. “I’d better write Santa a nice thank you letter. He brought me the one gift I never thought I could have—a great, gorgeous guy who understands me inside and out.” Giving Max’s hand a firm squeeze, Randy made his way out of the shop. Sure, some people on the bus stared at him, but he was confident they were just jealous of his mile-wide smile.

30

Got Mistletoe Madness?

The Dreamspinner Press 2009 Advent Calendar is available at http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com.

There’s a reason guys growl for G.R. RICHARDS erotica. You would never know it by the love of public television documentaries and great food in high end restaurants, but G.R. pens some of the world’s steamiest guy-on-guy stories. G.R. is no stranger to a bed damp with sweat or the sweetness of bodies pressed against each other. Next time you feel the urge, pour yourself a glass of fine red wine, play some sultry background music, and join G.R. Richards in a world where all the guys get to play… and all the rest get to watch. Visit G.R.’s web site at http://www.grrichards.webs.com.

Vintage Toys for Lucky Boys ©Copyright G.R. Richards, 2009 Published by Dreamspinner Press 4760 Preston Road Suite 244-149 Frisco, TX 75034 http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. Cover Art by Paul Richmond http://www.paulrichmondstudio.com Cover Design by Mara McKennen This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the publisher. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press at: 4760 Preston Road, Suite 244-149, Frisco, TX 75034 http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ Released in the United States of America December 2009 eBook Edition eBook ISBN: 978-1-61581-330-8