| |
|
Tony smiled lovingly at his sweetheart delivered his big speech. He remembered this afternoon, when Georgie had had a near breakdown about it.
“Guldarnnit, Tone! YOU’RE the one who knows lotsa big words! I wish my Daddy could do this! I wish Uncle Dick could take care of this. Oh, I wish YOU could do this insteada me!
Tony smiled. “You know I would if I could, honey. But I came to offer you support.”
Georgie looked into Tony’s eyes. “I know darlin, I know.”
It was amazing that a tragedy could produce something as wonderful as their newfound love. The night they got together was not too long after the attacks on America. After a state dinner, he and George had stayed up the whole evening, and while Tony enjoyed a sherry, and George a Coors Light, they talked about the weight of the world that was now on their shoulders. George was nowhere near as bright as Bill had been, but Tony was charmed by George’s cowboy, devil-may-care brattishness. Bill saw a world of complex political issues; George imagined the mess as a grand game of cowboys and indians, with their side the calvary come to save the womanfolk. There was something so manly, so inherently macho about his attitude that Tony found himself swelling with pride at his own manhood. He found himself wanting to be closer to it, to touch that. Perhaps, if he could just get close enough to touch… Tony, too, could get in touch with his own machissmo.
George left the room and returned, a fresh Coors in his hand and a cowboy hat perched atop his head. He smiled at Tony. “Whaddya say youn’ me make ourselves real comfortable? Ya wanna hear some real American music, Tone?”
Tony smiled politely back. “Why, sure, I’d love to.”
And with that, the “Bawitabawitabawita” sounds of “My name is Kid Rock” began to play. “This boy, he’s a real american. A simple boy. He’s a real cowboy – and he knows how to party.” George leaned in closer to Tony. “Do YOU know how to party, Tone?”
Tony could feel himself getting aroused, but he was nervous. Damn that British politesse! He urgently wanted to leave George in nothing but his cowboy hat and suspenders, but he just couldn’t bear the thought of making a fool of himself. Why couldn’t he be louder, more abrasive? Why couldn’t he be more like George?
And then George asked him, “remember what you said about standing shoulder to shoulder?”
Tony looked him earnestly. “Oh yes! And I meant it! I meant it! Every word!”
George began to pull of Tony’s blazer. “How would you like to see what that really feels like? Mmmmm. Let me feel your shoulder. “ He began unbuttoning Tony’s shirt. “Oh, they’re so soft. Do you want to feel my shoulder?”
At that, Tony could bear it no longer. He grabbed George and began kissing him passionately.
And so began a night that still made Tony shudder with pleasure when he thought of it. |
|
|
