Parking Lot Part Seven -- Another Jack

Wednesday was another busy one, with the railroad again bringing us an afternoon spot – 11 railcars filled with Buicks and Cadillacs. Despite running my ass off all day long, I had managed to see Jack coming in and out of the ramp. Apparently, he had recovered from our all-nighter. 

We finally finished up around 7pm, giving me a 12-hour shift and seven hours overtime for the week. Good. People who buy expensive beds, railings and mirrors for playtime need extra money to support their habits. 

I had to rush home, shower, have dinner and tidy up before Jack’s arrival. Promptly at 8pm I heard a knock. When I looked through the hole, I initially thought it was some sort of salesman or religious peddler, as the man on the other side was dressed in a dark suit and had slicked down hair, but soon I recognized the visitor as Jack.

I let him. He was carrying a large plastic sack and had one arm behind his back. I immediately got excited at the sight of a sack, hoping maybe that Gary was setting us up for another greased wrestling match – a three-way wrestling match, but before I could question him, Jack presented me with a gift. 

“Hi, Kenny. This is for you.”

His hidden arm produced a single red rose. Then he reached into the sack to extract a box of chocolates, which were also given to me.

“Wow, Jack! Thanks a bunch. You shouldn’t have.”

“Oh, it’s nothing much.”

I sniffed on the rose. “Mmm, sweet. Let me put this in some water.”

Taking the rose and candy to the kitchen, I silently cracked up. What a corn ball! Dressed to the nines, bringing me a red rose and box of chocolates, Jack Tolsen had come a-courtin’ his favorite cock sucker.
Putting the rose into a tall glass and opening the box, I returned with them to the living room.

“Have a seat, Jack. You want something to drink?”

“Not now. Maybe later.”

We both sat on the couch at opposite ends, while I put my gifts on the coffee table.

“Here, have a chocolate. You sure look nice, Jack.”

A familiar aroma filled the air, but I couldn’t quite figure it out. As we both munched on our pieces of candy, I leaned towards him to smell his cologne.

“What’s that you’re wearing? After shave?”

“Oh, I put on some Old Spice.”

I had to look away to hide my smile. How typical. I felt like I was in some sort of time warp – perhaps a 1950's television series. At this point, I figured his hair must be fancied up with BrylCreem or the like. What else would fit the mood?

Now, with that being said, I must put all sarcasm aside. 

Say what you will about Old Spice – it’s old fashioned, passe and for squares, but whether I want to admit it or not, it is a purely masculine aroma and for me, a real turn on. 

Plus, this 1950's feel he was putting me in was also rather stimulating. In the United States, this was a glorious era. All the World War II veterans were back home, making babies and building their lives.

The country had been on the winning side of the most important conflict the human race had undergone up to that time. With the world conquered and prosperity available to all, this was a romantic period filled with innocence and unrestricted opportunity. Plus, it was the age of unbridled masculine dominance. These men were the heads of the households with no questions asked and the world belonged to them. 
This is the image we have of that decade and, whether this was the reality or not, just the idea of it makes a person wish he could live it. At that moment, Jack had taken me there and this put a boner in my jeans. 

“Hey, Kenny. Look what else I got.”

He proceeded to remove items from his sack. First came two boxes.

“Now you’re talking, Jack. Red Wings!......and Wolverines!”

“Yep. Look, these are brown. I wore them today.”

He was like a kid in a toy store, as he brought out the first pair of work shoes. They were proudly displayed for me and every detail of their construction and features was thoroughly explained. Jack beamed with pride, eventually showing me the second pair, along with another long, boring lesson in the fine art of shoe manufacturing.

“Wow, Jack. That’s just what you needed. Your feet deserve the best. Now, put some mink oil on them and they’ll last for years.”

He reached in the sack and pulled out a can of mink oil. “That’s just what the salesman told me to do.”

“Smart shoe clerk.”

“Yeah. Lookee here. Here’s your socks back, washed and clean. Plus, I got new socks, too. Feel how thick these socks are, Kenny.”

“Those are really nice. Looks like you bought the store. 

“You were right. I should have done this long ago. My feet felt so good today, it was almost like a whole new world.”

Gee, this was real exciting. Jack had obviously gone the extra mile for me (actually for himself), but I was ready to move on.
“Is that a new suit, too?”

“No. This is one of my Sunday go to church suits. I just wanted to look nice for you.”

“You look real nice, but I think you’d look even better without it.”

“What do you mean?”

Just like the 1950's – the age of innocence – poor Jack was clueless. I scooted over towards him and loosened his tie.

Jack smiled, as he recognized what I was getting at. “Oh.”

I started to unbutton his shirt when suddenly, Jack lunged forward and drove me down onto the couch, promptly laying on top of me to plant kisses all over my face and forehead. Guess the courtship period was mercifully over.

“Come on, Jack. Let’s go to the bedroom and get comfortable.”

I think we broke the record for stripping down, but I was first in bed. Jack got naked, then excused himself and went to the bathroom, where I could hear him piss and run water in the sink, apparently making sure no body parts smelled bad. He wasn’t about to incur my wrath over this issue again.