Chapter 11

A Day at the Zoo

It was about a 40-minute drive to get to the museum and our conversations ranged over a number of topics, mostly sexually tinged.  When was your first time?  How many girlfriends have I had?  How many boyfriends have you had?  Have you ever skinny-dipped before (his question)?  I was a bit surprised to hear he was sexually active at age 14 at summer camp with “a really hot lifeguard.”  The lifeguard was older and straight, but it was an all boys’ camp, so Parker had a captive audience.  It occurred to me that he was a boy who usually got what he wanted.  Not that he was spoiled or anything like that, but rather he could charm the pants off of just about anybody…including me…literally.

Of course, he asked frequently if I was going to tell him where we were going.  I told him it would ruin the surprise.  “I hate surprises,” he said.

“Like when I licked your fingers in the theater?” I asked.

“Or more like when I opened your underwear for the first time.  Now THAT was a surprise!” he added.

“OK.  Did you hate those surprises?” I asked.  “Nooooooo,” he said a little like a child being taught a lesson.

“Then you just hate bad surprises like any normal person would,” I said.  “So just chill.  We’ll be there in a few minutes.”

When we showed up at the museum, he looked puzzled.  “Here?” he asked looking at the entrance as if he needed some sort of prior approval to enter.

“Yup,” I said placing my hand on the back of his neck steering him toward the doors as we walked.  “We’re gonna get you some cul-cha,” I said in a mock aristocratic voice.

He was wearing a pair of white-framed sunglasses on our walk from the car to the museum.  He looked really good in them, like some sort of actor or rock star.  I told him to keep them on inside the museum as we went to the booth to buy the tickets.  We both bought our own tickets and got a map to find our way around.

Rather than wait 30 minutes for the next tour, we set out on our own and joined a tour already in progress.  No one seemed to notice that we were interlopers.  When the tour ended, we circled back around on our own to catch the parts that we missed.

We had so much fun at the museum like we were in our own world.  I saw a few people along the way sneaking peeks at Parker, giving him that “I know he’s someone famous, I just can’t place it” look.  He was a living work of art and people noticed...or maybe it was the sunglasses…or maybe it was just my imagination.

We went around two rooms looking at a variety of paintings and describing to each other how they made us feel.  At one point I was looking at a very large painting and Parker had moved on to the next one standing beside a middle-aged women.  They were both admiring a painting entitled Rape of Europa by Titian.  He described to her how it made him feel as we had been doing.  And the woman began telling him about the symbolism and themes depicted in that painting.  He began asking her really intelligent questions, so I was careful to hang back just within earshot so as not to interrupt the exchange.

They went on to the next painting and the next.  She would describe what was depicted in the scene, and he would ask questions.  She was really good at answering his questions and explaining a little bit about the painters.  He then asked, “You certainly know a lot about paintings.  Do you work here?”

She laughed and told him she actually worked at the Museum of Fine Arts as a paintings conservator.  It was her day off, so she was taking a look at some of the pieces they had at this museum.  She said that most of these pieces were priceless and Boston was very lucky to have such a unique collection in the city.  “Mrs. Gardner, who passed away in the 1920s, was one of the foremost female patrons of the arts and amassed a remarkable collection, which we are seeing here in what used to be her home.”

“She lived here with all of these paintings?  Wow!  Did you hear that?” he said turning around to me.

“Yes, pretty amazing, huh?” I replied.

She looked at her watch and said, “Well, time’s up for me.  I’ve got to get going.  I hope you enjoy the rest of your visit here.”

“Thanks for being such a wealth of information.  You certainly heightened the enjoyment of my museum experience,” Parker said.  “Oh, and good luck at your museum.”

“You should come and visit sometime.  We have a lot of remarkable pieces there, too,” she added.

“Yeah.  We will, right?” he said looking at me.

“I think we could manage that,” I said in response.

We ventured on and looked at more paintings in more rooms wondering what it would have been like to live there.  Then Parker pushed me into an alcove out of view of the public and kissed me long and full on the lips.

“Wow, that was a museum-quality kiss,” I said in a hushed tone.

“Well, here’s another one for later,” he said as his lips locked with mine once again.

“We’d better stop or I’m going to have a museum-quality boner,” I said after our lips parted.  “I doubt they’d want me walking around here with that.”

“Hmm you’re right.  I think that is one piece I’d like to keep in my private collection,” he replied as he took hold of my arm and pulled me back into the main hallway.

We walked and found ourselves on a balcony overlooking the courtyard.  While we were looking down from above, Parker’s sunglasses fell off his face and landed on some kind of tree below and got stuck there.

“Oh crap!” he stifled a yell.

I assessed the situation and said, “Come with me, Sir.  I believe I can assist you.”

We quickly walked down the stairs to the courtyard.

“Now which tree committed the offense, Sir,” I began.

“That one right there,” he said pointing and playing along.

“I see.  If you could, please position yourself under the glasses to catch them,” I instructed.

I scanned the area and when no one was looking I gave the tree a quick shake.  The glasses slid down a bit.

“One more!” Parker whispered.

I repeated the process and Parker caught the sunglasses when they dropped.

He rushed over to me and said “My hero!” and gave me a peck on the cheek.  A few fellow patrons were watching the scene unfold and gave a golf clap at the end.  I took a quick bow and whispered, “Let’s get the hell out of here before they arrest me for manhandling their tree!”

“Sir, I thought you worked here,” Parker replied.

“No, I actually work at the Museum of Fine Arts.  We have a lot of remarkable trees there, too,” I said as I whisked him away.

We were hungry so we found our way to the café in the museum and sat down for a bite to eat.  Our waitress was a pretty girl maybe 18 or 19 years old.  She was really flirty toward us, especially Parker.  When she walked away to put in our order, I posed a question.

“That waitress was really pretty and I think she digs you,” I began.  “If she offered to have sex with you straight up, would you do it just so you could experience it once with a girl?”

“Yeah, she seems nice, but sex with a girl?  I’d rather fuck a dead donkey,” he declared.

“Oh c’mon, she’s much better looking than a dead donkey,” I shot back.

“Well, all I know is I wouldn’t be able to get it up for either,” he replied.  “What about you? Would you do it?”

Uh oh, I should have seen that one coming.  I had to tread lightly here.

“That would all depend.  If I was single, probably.  If I was taken, definitely not.  If I like someone enough to be in a relationship, that person would have to be very special to me.  I would never screw that up by cheating,” I tried.

“Well, that’s good that you’re not a cheater.  Neither am I,” he added.

At that point, the drinks arrived, which gave me a chance to ponder.  Were WE in a “relationship?”  No, right?  We were just dating.  I was still free to see whoever I wanted… but so was he.  I didn’t like the thought of that.  I knew if I wanted to make things less temporary, I would have to make a move soon…not today necessarily, but soon.  But did I want to make things less temporary?

We ate our designer sandwiches and our conversation circled back to the museum, our experience there, the stolen masterpieces that were conspicuously missing, and Parker imitating the tour guide who pronounced his “R”s as “W”s and called Parker “young man.”  I once again listened politely and smiled while I admired the parts of his face as he spoke.

After eating, we walked the museum a little more and departed when they announced that they were closing soon.  We exited through the doors we came in and retraced our steps back to the car.  I opened the passenger door first to let Parker in.

“You’re such a gentleman,” Parker said and he deftly slid into the seat and reached over to pop open my door.

“So did you enjoy your day at the zoo, young man?” I smirked as I started the car.

“Yeah, I’ve never been to the zoo before,” he replied.




© 2014 Rip Skor