Work Text:
Dear Slash Abbey II
by Susan
What's the beginning of eternity, the end of time, and space, the beginning of the end, and the end of every place?
^^^^^^
Dear Slash Abbey
c/o The Denver Rainbow
"Out and About"
Thursday, May 23, 2002
Section 4, Page 6
Dear Miz Abbey, uh... Slash Abbey!
Howdy! I read your kolu...uh, column all the time, and would appreciate your timely answer. I'll call myself Kevin. I surely do need some good advice, and I think you're the gal that can find a solution to my problem.
Let me give you a little back history here, okay? I'm in love with this terrific man that I'm gonna call "Eddie" (not his real name). He's real educated, as smart as a whup, while I learned my lessons in the school of hard knocks. Got an I.Q. up to yonder on him! He's so talented it's uncanny: ain't no card game invented he can't beat your pants off ever time. He can speak what you call fluent in three or four languages 'sides English. He can give Miss Manners lessons in dee uh... decorum. He knows wines, fashion and goremay, um, gourmet food, and he could sell a drownin' man a bottle of water.
Man alive, he can dress up real pretty, and sang? Oh, ain't nothing better than hearin' this beautiful man sangin' for me of a Sunday afternoon. There's this one song he wrote for me, goes:
An angel kisses me in the night
Reaching, turns out the light
Takes my hand, touching me
In the shadows, now we're free
Just sends shivers up and down my spine, him singin' sort of whispering low while brushing my hair.
We been together 'bout five months now, though we worked together a few years before we ever went out, just the two of us, on a real date. We're in the security business. We're not out as a gay couple except to our closest friends; they seem to accept our relationship with whole hearts--they're some magnificent friends.
Eddie, well, he's what you call a mite eccentric. Me, I'm just a plain cowboy, I know guns, hunting, horses and I thought for sure I knew all about the ways of a man making love to a man, but this 'un's strange.
Ya see, Miz Abbey, Eddie's got this thing about bein' poor. His mama didn't raise the poor feller right, she's a greedy bitch (let me write you one day about the goll durnedest interfering mother-in-law from hell!), drillin' it into my baby's sweet head that making, keeping, stealing, contriving, and marrying for money is the be-all, end-all of life! He married me, though, and I'm 'bout as poor as ole Job's turkey.
My darlin' Eddie's somewhat cantankerous and a prickly man, but so lovin' to me. He don't believe in going to bed mad and upset, real patient with me when I get irritated about my dyslexia and he don't ever criticize me, ever, in front of our team-mates. I believe him when he tells me that I can always trust him because he will always be truthful to me. I sure do love him, Miz Abbey, why, the man just told me this morning after kissing me awake, that the joy of his life is knowing that we'll grow old together.
But you see here, he's a little funny, now tell me what you think, Ma'am:
Last January, after our committment ceremony, we went back to his townhouse, got into the bedroom, but before we celebrated, you know, our weddin' night and all, he went over to his dresser, opened up a drawer, and took out this big manila envelope. He says to me, then, "Kevin, everytime we're intimate (that's his way of saying having sex, Miz Abbey) I want you to put a dollar inside this envelope."
My eyes sort of bugged out at that, and I couldn't speak for a minute, so fearful I was for my sanity. I said, "Ez..uh...Eddie, now wait just a dern minute. I thank you're an angel on earth, God help me, you got the silkiest chestnut hair, and softest skin, when I'm inside you--"
Well, Miz Abbey, he clutched me to him, his head pillowed on my neck, his warm breath on my face, and then I commenced to complimentin' him on his charms.
Dear Lord, the man smelled of fresh meadows, and was as refreshing and welcome in summertime as a tinklin' brook in a forest glade. His laughter was sweeter than blushing ripe peaches, and his body always welcoming him with delight, arching and straining and thrumming with joyfulness when he thrust deep inside him or laved the paleness of this thighs. And when Ez.. ur.. Eddie's velvet tongue swirled over his nipples, suckling, or begun tracing the quivering tender flesh of his belly and dipping into his navel, well, Miz Abbey--
He makes me feel cherished. I love that word, don't you?
Well, he kissed me three times, on my eyelids and my lips, and then says, "Kevin, either before or after we're intimate, please take a dollar bill from your wallet, and put it in the drawer."
Well, I was gettin' flustered, and I try to never lose my temper with Ez..uh Eddie, but I was beginnin' to think he was expecting me to pay him for the intimacy... oh hell, sex! I ain't never done so in my life, Dear Miz Abbey! Ez, uh.. Eddie, well, to put it all out in the open, I've only been with one other person before in my whole life, and she... she didn't ask me for no money, but she sure used me...
Finally I took the bull by the horns and said, "No damn way! Why are you doin' this?" But before I could spout off (let me tell you I was pissed) about paying for his favors, he kissed me again.
"No, now listen, honey," he said, "This isn't what you think...," he cleared his throat, "...I meant by asking you for payment. You see, this means we'll get 'twice' the fun... from making love. You choose a date, our anniversary or your birthday, and we'll spend this money on something lavish or exciting, or whatever... (one of Mother's ideas, he mumbled)... and you can decide since it's your money."
Well, I shook my head, then nodded, then bending and planting my feet, I picked him up in my arms and placed him gently on the coverlet, began to tug at his collar button, before the little scamp says, "Un uh, one dollar, please."
Now, Miz Abbey, I grunted, raised myself up with no arguments, freed my wallet from my tightened pants, and let a dollar float into that drawer, then slammed it shut.
We then proceeded onto the honeymoon.
Okay, it's been five months since our weddin' night, but I been keepin' my own accounts, Abbey, and I should've had 216 damn dollars (we once did the wild thang seven times on the twenty-eighth of February, that cost me a whole $7, and I chucked in fifty cents, coz Ez, uh, Eddie made me come (can you say that in the newspaper?) wth my clothes on, while watching him wash dishes...he was just wearin' an apron at the time, nuttin' else... and he has to bend over to put the skillet...well back to business.
And, so, I counted the money last night, he says it's mine, and I was thinking of buying him a six months anniversary present, don't know what yet, but I found only $152 in there!
Now, the whole problem finally is this, Miz Abbey, should I come right out and say, Ez, uh, Eddie, I know you took some of that money, or should I just try and forget about it, and before you ask, I know I didn't make a mistake totalling it up, none fell out on the floor, or got caught behind the drawer, and nobody's broken into our house.
He's never lied to me, and I know he isn't a thief, but something... what should I do? Yours,
Doubting in Denver
E-mail address for feedback: susgreer@webtv.net