Happy Halloween

Neither of us say much on our way to my place. We reach Cubatão Street, which is unusually quiet and dark tonight. My overwrought imagination has the better of me—I hear his heavy black leather boots stomping the pavement in cadences. I smile and think of him as my executioner, taking me to be slaughtered—after all, it’s Halloween night!

We pause at the gates to enter my building. A couple of teens by the stairs stop chatting and stare at Valter. The doorman discreetly calls me aside and hands me the mail.

“Are you all right, Mr. Nakamura?” He smiles and gives a stern look at Valter, who waits for me by the short flight of stairs.

“Oh, yes!” Just then I realize Mr. Souto’s concern for my safety and suspicion of my visitor. “He’s a friend, and he likes Halloween, Mr. Souto. That’s all!” I then join Valter.

“You live in a big building, Ken.” The rubber soles of his boots squeak as he walks on the polished stone floor. Ms Silva and Ms Vieira turn to us and smile. Thank God we’ve already passed them—these older ladies are the gossip of this condo.

Under the light of the main hall, I can see him better. Surely he looks scary and threatening.

“I live in that back tower. There are over two thousand people living in this condo.” He nods. As we enter the elevator, two teen girls rush in to catch the same elevator. They naturally turn to Valter.

“Are you going to a Halloween party, sir?”

“No, I’m coming back from the Zombie Walk. I came here to visit my friend.” He smiles.

“Is that scar on your face and ear real or are they make-up?”

“Don’t you see they’re real, moron!” The other girl says.

“Yes, it was an accident when I feel off a horse--barbed wire can be very dangerous.”

“Oh, God!” They say. He looks down. I look through the panel and sigh in relief, as they’re going to get off on the eighteenth floor, just below us.

“Good night and have fun!” They smile.

“Bye, girls! And happy Halloween!” We say.

We then get off on the nineteenth floor. I take out my key and the neighbor at the end of the hall opens her door. Her children peek out.

“Look, it’s Jason!” A boy in a ghost costume says.

“Hi, kids! Would you like some candies?” I say.

“Sorry my kids disturbed you. Good night!” The neighbor slams the door shut.

“Oh, well.” I shrug my shoulders. “Welcome to my kitchenette, dear! It’s quite small, like I told you on the chat.” Valter enters and looks around.

“That’s not too bad. I like it. I’d like to live in a place like this one if I could afford it.” He smiles.

“Sit down, dear. You must be tired from standing and posing for pictures at the exit of the subway station.” I pull a chair and he sits. He looks even bigger when he’s sitting on a chair! Perhaps it’s his big legs and arms, or it’s just my small chair.

“Thanks, Ken.” He takes off his biker’s leather gloves; I see more scars on his large hands, where the hair does not cover them.

“Those I got when I feel off my bike, in case you’re wondering, Ken.” I turn to him.

“I’m sorry, Valter. I didn’t mean to stare at your scars.” He stands up and puts his hands on my shoulders.

“Chill. I’m used to being scrutinized, looked upon, and being spoken of all the time.” He forces a sad smile and looks down.

“Perhaps you’d like to wash the paint off first, dear. I know how it feels to have paint on your face.”

“You do?”

“Yes, dear. I teach kids and have participated in many school events wearing my clown costume.”

“A clown costume.” He chuckles.

“Yep! It’s just part of the job. I’ll show you the bathroom and get us something to drink.”

“Water is fine, thanks.” He moves to the bathroom and doesn’t close the door. I hear the loud tap and the watery noise of him splashing water around. Men can be so sloppy sometimes!

I bring two large glasses to the small stone-top table. One with water, and the other one is empty. I place the jug on the table and fill my glass halfway.

“I never thought it would be that hard to remove facial paint.” He joins me and drinks his water.

“Let me help you with that, dear. It takes practice to do that in a painless manner.” I go to the bathroom to pick up some cotton balls and moist tissue. Needless to say, the sink is a mess of black dye all over the white counter. I rinse it and dry my hands. I open a drawer and take out some cotton balls and a plastic sachet of moist tissue.

“I’m sorry about the mess I made on your counter, Ken.”

“That’s all right, dear. Now, allow me to wipe away the remaining black paint from around your eyes.”

“Sure.” He folds his arms and waits. I take the moist perfumed tissue and rub it gently around his eyes.

“Yes, close your eyes, dear.” I gently rub around his eye and the paint comes off easily. Then I dry his skin with a cotton ball.

“Wow, you’re very gentle with your perfumed delicate hand, my friend.” He smiles.

“Thanks, dear. Now, let me do your other eye.” He looks at the black cotton balls.

“You’re very good at cleaning my skin, my friend.” He closes his other eye and I repeat the same operation.

“Done!” I smile.

“Thanks, Ken. I really appreciate it.” Just then, we hear the neighbor’s kids in the hall.

“Dear, put your mask back on. I’ll get some candies for the kids!” Valter puts it on and waits for me by the door. I tear open a large bag of chocolate candies. Then we meet the kids in the hall.

“Hi, kids! What do you say when you wish to get candies?”

“Trick or treat!” Valter distributes the candies among the kids. They get excited with their chocolate candies.

“Thanks, sir!”

“My name is Valter!”

“Thanks, Valter!” They all go to the next-door neighbor and ring the doorbell. We close the door and laugh.

“Now, Valter, feel yourself at home. I’m going to shower, for I really need it. I’m all sweaty for I’ve been away all day,” I bite my lips.

“Ken, take your time. I’m sure you weren’t expecting me to,” he looks down.

“That’s all right, dear. Honestly, I’m very happy to see you in person.” He looks at me.

“You do?” I stroke his face and smile.

“Yes, dear. Listen, if you want, you can also take a quick shower here. Well, what do you think?” He smiles.

“That would be nice. Are we going to shower together?” He grins.

“All right. Why not?”

“A-are you sure you don’t mind showering with a big furry man like me?”

“No worries, dear! But there is an important rule here!” I smile.

“I know, no sex in the bathroom.” He grins.

“No, dear! We can’t make too much noise in the bathroom. You know, the walls are thin and the neighbors, they like to talk about other people’s lives and intimacy, you know.” He chuckles.

“All, right. I promise I won’t sing with my tenor’s voice in the shower.” We move to the bathroom.

“Were you serious when you said you were going to sing in the shower, dear?” Valter begins to sing Figaro and I place my hand over his mouth. We both laugh.

Without wasting time, I take off my white T-shirt, drop my navy blue cotton shorts, and take off my white briefs. He licks his lips and smiles. I face him and fold my arms, as if waiting for his turn.

He smiles and removes his Jason costume slowly. First, he removes his long-sleeved thick shirt. I notice his drenched undershirt, which is straining to contain his big furry pecs and bulky upper body. He didn’t lie about his being strong and big. Second, he takes it off, and I notice the forest of armpit hair, his muscular back and big arms, all covered in a mat of hair. Third, he unbuckles his belt and undoes his button. Lastly, he drops his pants, revealing his white briefs, hardly holding his family jewels and slanted cock pressed hard against the overstretched fabric. Just then I notice his black socks, which has a couple of holes.

“I’m sorry, but my socks are smelly.” He whispers.

“Don’t worry, dear. I’ll put them by the window, along with your boots to air out.”

He then drops his briefs, disclosing his proud long fat uncut cock. I admire his big low hanging balls. I invite him under the cold water and he smiles.

His big arms envelop me and I feel his enormous body take over me. He is this massive beast, charging against me with his animal passion. We kiss and I feel his tongue invading my mouth. I run my hand over his muscular furry back and feel his big scars. Big mistake! He freezes and backs off a step away.

“I’ve got some more scars all over my back, Ken.” His once pulsing and rock-hard cock becomes soft. “I-I’m like a real freak, covered in scars and branding marks.” He looks down and covers his sex with his big hands.

“Valter, dear, look at me.” I stroke his face. He lifts his face and I look squarely in his eyes. “Do you let me wash you, dear? Do you let me touch you?” He nods. “All right, dear.” I stroke his face. He looks down again. I lift his chin and he nods.

“Go ahead, Ken.” He looks at me as if he could see through me. I touch his face, his lips, and he holds my hand, and kisses it.

“I’ll start washing your hair, Valter.” He nods. I keep eye contact with him and instinctively grab my transparent shampoo bottle. “Close your eyes for me, please.” I apply a good amount of shampoo in my cupped hand and apply it to his short hair. As I massage his scalp, I notice a big lump, several scars all over his head, and a few bald patches. “Come under the water, dear.” He rinses and opens his eyes, looking closely at me. He then smiles shyly.

“I like your shampoo, Ken. It smells of lavender, and summer, like the ocean.”

“Now, I’ll wash your body, dear. Allow me, please.”

“You don’t have to ask me, Ken.” I take the pink soap bar, which smells of roses, and rub it over his bull’s muscular neck and find more scars. As I slide it over his strong back, chest, and belly, I find more scars! He has a big horizontal scar under his belly button. As I soap his buttocks, I can hardly believe it—hot iron branding marks on both furry cheeks! His muscular furry legs are no different. I follow a big scar running down his entire right thigh. Two big horizontal scars on his left thigh. His calves are no different.

“Now you know what I really look like, Ken. That photo,” he looks down, “was taken on the beach three years ago.”

“Valter, I hope you forgive me for making you go through this. I never meant to do you any harm. I’m sorry, dear.” He smiles.

“It had to happen, Ken. But I never thought it would hurt so badly.” I stroke his face and drop the soap bar. His eyes widen and he backs up another step away. I pick it up and take a sponge.

“Valter, dear,” I hand him the sponge, “perhaps you’d like to finish the shower on your own. I can wait for you outside.” He puts his soap hand on my shoulder.

“No, Ken.” He looks in my eyes. “I’m enjoying this. It’s just that, it’s been such a long time since I’ve had, someone take care of me, and making the effort to understand my fears and traumas.”

“All right, dear. But I want you to tell me how you feel. If you don’t feel comfortable, you tell me and I’ll stop.” He nods and smiles.

I take the sponge and gently rub his entire body, feeling every inch of his muscles and, yes, scars.

“You can wash your own glans, dear.” I blush. He takes the soap bar and washes his glans himself.

“C-can I wash you too, Ken?” He looks down. I take his chin and lift it up.

“Yes, dear.”

“I-I promise I won’t break you. I’ll be very careful, for you’re like an angel. He starts by washing my hair. I close my eyes and hear him opening the shampoo bottle, squirting shampoo on the palm of his big hand, and, surprise! How gentle and smoothly his movement are. I feel his thick fingers travel and rub all over my scalp. He takes my hair and combs it with his fingers, playing with the foam. He rinses my hair and I open my eyes.

“That was a great experience, dear. I’d feel glad to have a big man like you washing my hair all the time.” We smile.

“Now, it’s time for me to wash your body, my angel.” He now proceeds with the soap bar. As he rubs me, I smile and kiss him. He doesn’t look squarely in my eyes. “Your limbs are so smooth and delicate.” He runs his hands around my arms, smooth chest, smooth buttocks. I turn around and he runs his big hand over my back, down my spine, and over my buttocks. “You’re a god! Your body has been sculpted in the purest marble, and yet you speak and move.”

“And I’m also Asian, dear.” He runs the soap bar down to my legs. He kneels down and touches my feet. Then he slowly and gently scrubs my body. “You’ve forgotten to wash my glans, dear.” I smile. He blushes completely.

“C-can I really touch you, babe?” Without waiting for confirmation, he takes my cock and pulls back the foreskin and washes the glans thoroughly. Then he pulls it back on.

“Shall we dry, dear.” He nods.

“Can you dry my body, babe?”

“I think I’m spoiling you, dear!”

“I’m a man who likes being spoiled, especially by a handsome angel like you.” I dry his short hair and feel more comfortable touching him now. He smiles and raises his big arms as I dry his furry armpits. I rub his back and kiss his scars. He chuckles and laughs.

“Oh, God! I never thought I was ticklish!”

“I’m sorry, dear.”

“That’s all right. Now, kiss my ass, boy!” We look into each other’s eyes. “I-I’m sorry, Ken. I didn’t mean it that way. I’m sorry.” I place a finger to his lips. I dry his buttocks and genitals, and kiss his branding marks on his furry buttocks. I finish by drying his big feet.

“Done, dear!” He remains still and looking in my eyes.

“You’ve kissed my scars, like you were worshiping me. You treated me as if I were an individual worth of love. You showed compassion and so much love, Ken. And this feels good inside, here.” He touches his heart.

“You deserve all the love in the world, dear. Hey, wait, I’m still wet! You’ve got to dry me first, then we can kiss!”

He dries my hair first. He takes his time drying it with much care and patience. Then he runs the towel all over my body. I turn around and I can even feel his own cock rub against my buttocks. But I remain indifferent, giving him all the time in the world.

When we’re done, we walk back to the living room and I assemble my sofa bed. He likes this ingenious device. I tell him this is what you do when you live in a tiny place. He helps me put the sheets and pillows on the bed. Then he simply collapses on my bed, naked and proud of his furry body. In the meantime, I take his smelly socks and boots to air out by my kitchen window. I also hang his clothes with hangers in my tiny laundry area.

“I’m really sorry I lied to you, Ken. I-I didn’t want you to know I was this stitched up and sewn monster. Perhaps I should go now.”

“I’d really like you to stay, dear.” I join him on the sofa-bed and keep a short distance between us. He shakes his head.

“Ken, though it’s very hard for me, I need to open up with you. You deserve to know the truth. I don’t want to hide behind these ugly scars anymore. I’ll tell you everything. And I’ll understand if you let me go through that door. I won’t ruin your life because of a scumbag like me.” I take his hand and kiss it.

“Dear, you only tell me what you feel like speaking. Don’t be forced to explain yourself to me. You have the right to your privacy, dear.”

“I know, babe. But, before I even dream of hoping for a future between us, I need to come clean before you. Please, babe, give me that opportunity. And when I finish telling you my story, you can decide. And I’ll surely abide to your decision.”

“All right, dear. You can tell me your story. I’m here to listen to you.”

“Yes. But I warn you, my angel. You’ll never look at me the same way after I finish with my story. You’d be glad to send me away afterwards.”

“Then try me, dear. I’m all ears and want to listen to you.” He then lies on his back and bites his lips.

“You already know how I ended up in jail, throwing away my career as an officer in the gutter.” He looks up to the ceiling to an indistinct point, hands joined over his chest. I can feel his body heat from where I am, leaning to my side.

“Yes, dear, go on, please.”

“I’ve always been a very competitive kid. My dad, who was also an officer, frequently encouraged and pushed me to win: races at school, swimming in the club, and judo at the community center. As a teen, I was already revered and respected by my peers and even teachers, for my physical abilities and intellectual faculty. Besides, I could have any girl I wanted, and my life was a lot of fun then—to the eyes of others. But deep within me, such pressures ended up stifling the real me. At home, my old man hoped that I’d make a career as an officer, and being promoted as a chief of police. My peers envied me for taking the most beautiful girl at the school and small town. In my university years, I bottled up my feelings and true identity. I wanted to succeed in life no matter what it took me. I did a major in business and a minor in physical education. After my graduation, I landed in a job as a cop. For nearly fourteen years, I wore my uniform with pride. My old man died of a stroke when I was thirty. A year later, I lost my mother to cancer. I then inherited their small house and dad’s old car.” He smiles and turns to me. “I hope I’m not boring you to tears with endless biography, my friend?”

“Oh, no, dear! Quite on the contrary! Go on, dear!”

“I’ve always followed the commands of my superiors and obeyed them. I’m very proud to say that I’ve never accepted bribers nor was involved in anything illegal during my career. I was afraid of tarnishing my officer’s badge. I suppose I was a puzzle among my friends, who succeeded in their careers and some even entered politics. My sister wished me to enter into a more stable relationship, which in her mind, would help me keep focused and on the right track. She went as far as introduce me to a friend, who also lived in São Paulo. Gláucia was pretty, intelligent, and also very ambitious. She was always supportive of my career and encouraged me to enter the world of politics. I declined and at times, we quarreled, but always made up afterwards. Back then, my friends, always threw lavish parties with much caviar and champagne. Gláucia would comment about their country-houses, swimming pools, imported cars, jewels, vacation trips to The Maldives Islands, Cancún, Paris. She’d spend the whole day admiring their fine crystals, large swimming pool, barbecue area, guest house, and army of maids. When we’d drive back home, she’d comment about the high and mighty life; then, inevitably she’d compare them to our simple life. I tried to dismiss it as unimportant, and she suggested we took some time away from the other. At last, on a following weekend, my best friend Raposo was throwing another of his lavish parties. He was celebrating his third divorce with the same woman. He had connections and was a popular politician. It got very late at night and we were drunk like a skunk. He handed me a gun and we were trying to prove to one another who had the better aim at shooting at the neighbor’s coconut tree. I guess there were no coconuts to shoot at. Needless to say, the police was called; but before that, Raposo and I had a heart-to-heart conversation and he, during our drinking debauchery, spilled the beans and disclosed to me that a colleague, Otacílio, was taking Gláucia out for boat rides and diners out. This man, who also worked for the police, always competed with me and made a point of showing me how stupid I was for being poor and having an old car and still living in my folks’ old house. Never in my wildest dreams had I suspected Gláucia was keeping an affair with this jerk. He was a married man and had three boys at the time. Well, as I fired Raposo’s gun at the tree, I hoped it was Otacílio! When the police arrived, guess who was dispatched to check on us. I fired the gun at their car. Raposo told me to stop and took my gun away. Otacílio and his mate came and arrested me. I punched his face and hurdled all kinds on insults against him and his honor. I even challenged him for a fight, knowing fully well that he was a coward. He remained calm and simply handcuffed me. He spoke quietly with Raposo and they nodded. Raposo then made a phone call and shook hands with that scumbag. In the back of the police car, he didn’t take me directly to the police station as I was expecting. Instead, he drove by a dark area I couldn’t recognize. We entered an abandoned dark deposit, surrounded by high walls, like a fortress. To my surprise, I saw a lady in black with a mask, filming us. Only later, did I recognize my girlfriend behind that mask. She held a camera and seemed to be enjoying what they were doing to me. Otacílio changed his clothes and also put on a mask. “Strip this faggot!” Three large men in black came and removed my handcuff. I fought hard against them to run away, but felt punches and kicks and fell. “Don’t hurt the bitch! I want to fuck his cunt and make him bleed for me! I want him awake to feel what a real man can do to his sorry ass! I know what he likes, and that’s not a cunt, but offer his cunt to other men!” He laughed. I tried to protest and they all laughed at me. I was stark naked when he fucked my ass without mercy. He just shoved in at once, ripping my ass raw. I felt the blood oozing down my legs. I was being filmed while Otacílio jeered and called me names. I cried and begged him to stop, for he was ripping my insides apart. I then passed out and he threw a bucket of cold water on my face. I saw him, his partner, and Gláucia go away. As expected, when the officers collected me to the real police station, everything had been staged for my arrest. And Raposo, that scumbag had plotted it all along with the others! A week later, the verdict came in record time: two years in prison, my immediate dismissal from the police force, confiscation of all my uniform, police badge, and guns. As the police car was taking me to prison, they made a detour to that same spot I was raped once. “Deal with him. But don’t kill this man. Make sure he has some visible marks all over himself so he’ll always remember who’s on top of things here.” They entered the place, and delivered me to a group of men in black. Otacílio and his men withdrew and drove away. One man turned and took from the fire a hot-iron brander, used for animals. The other one played loud music. “We’re going to turn you inside-out, bitch! We’re going to brandish your sorry ass first, you cumdump!” They really meant business. Two men held me, while a third brought the hot-iron brander. “Both his ass cheeks!” I screamed and felt the smell of my own burnt flesh sizzling; I remember shitting myself before passing out. After hours of operation at the hospital, people said that I looked like a living Frankenstein, a patched up rag-doll. It was a miracle I didn’t lose my eyesight. Other than that, there were a couple of things about me: both broken arms; none of my ribs were left intact; seven broken fingers; a broken jaw and twelve broken teeth, countless clean cuts all over my body—they joked and said they played tic-tac-toe with sharp blades on my flesh; and the two blazing brander marks on each butt cheek. They had to use a stapler to keep the skin together while sewing me in one piece. They were quite sure my hair would never grow back on my head because of the cut and burnt scars. I think they assembled their team of medical students doing residency to patch me up and make me look human again. After five months in intensive medical care, physiotherapy, counseling, religious prayer groups, witchcraft, you name it—and I came out looking like this! They delivered me to my sister to keep as a pet. They said I could still speak, though like a baby and blink my eyes, which was more than a miracle, in my case. Well, gone was the house, dad’s car, all my savings, everything that could be sold and converted into cash to keep me barely living like a house pet. To this day, even the underwear I wear, belongs to my brother-in-law. After being released from the hospital, and making adaptations at my sister’s place, I was finally handed in to jail to serve my time. There I began to exercise, walk around, communicate with others, and even help around. Several times I got a visit from Otacílio’s attorney. He gave me friendly warnings to not meddle nor attempt any further communication with the law enforcement. In turn, I’d receive a life pension of $2,400, which I promptly refused. While in jail, I kept myself busy: I participated in bible studies, which impressed the authorities and got me special privileges; read much from the library; exercised in their gym; and did all sorts of jobs that could bring me cash—I coached some people in body building, I wrote appeal letters for some, I cut hair--saving everything I could, so that I wouldn’t have to depend on my sister, ever again. When I finally got on probation, I took out the money I saved and rented out a place for myself. It was something a little better than living on the streets and a bit smaller than this place, though darker, dingier, stuffier, and smelling like a cesspool. You get the picture! I have a cot to sleep on, a small sink, an old fridge that I’ve picked from the trash and fixed it, a small folding chair, and a small folding table, like the ones you find in those filthy snack bars around. The job I have is tough, for I fix motors, engines, and substitute parts for trucks and vans. What I earn is barely enough to keep the wolves away from my door.” He stops his narrative and smiles.

“You’re a true survivor, dear.” I smile. He strokes my face and coughs.

“This is my life, my angel.”

“Let me offer something for you to drink. Then we can think of dinner.” We both get up from my bed and go to the small kitchen. Just then I realize we’re both in our underwear. I think it’s funny to see two men in underwear and walking barefeet at my place.

“Water is fine, Ken.” He drinks and sits by the table.

“Help yourself to some candies, dear. Dinner will take a bit to be prepared.” He takes a chocolate candy and eats it whole.

“Ken, when you’ve been through the things I have in life, everything is special and has a value.” He stands up. “Perhaps I should be going, Ken. You don’t have to spend anything more on a man like me. Like I said, I have no future ahead of me. No one would ever hire me. I just got the job as a mechanic, because the assistant broke a leg. Soon I’ll be again looking for a job, probably as a waiter, janitor, or whatever I can get.” He looks out the window. “I got a used computer and have it hooked up to the internet. Oh, boy, can you believe me that, some men, from my sister’s church, have offered me money to, use the webcam.” He looks down. “I suppose when I run out of alternatives,” he shakes his head. “Maybe Otacílio and the others were right. I’m just a faggot and should earn my living by offering to others my ass for cash.”

“Or perhaps you should accept the help of a friend in finding a new job, in a new city, say, in a much bigger city.” I take his hand and squeeze it.

“My sister has already suggested that for me, my friend. The church that she goes to has a partnership with lot of NGOs that have social programs. They even have a program for former convicts who are looking for jobs.” He looks down.

“And why haven’t you accepted it, dear?”

“Because, I’m scared, Ken.” He turns away and looks towards the city lights. I join him and put my hand on his shoulder, and stroke his head.

“I used to be scared too, dear. We all know big cities are dangerous to live in. I lived with my Auntie for about two weeks before trying out my luck here.”

“You’re very brave, Ken.”

“I try to do my best, dear.” I look around my tiny apartment and smile as I see the lush red roses in a vase. “I know that what I have is very simple; and I also earn very little as a language teacher, dear, just enough to pay my bills. But I’m happy here.”

“I’m scared of people, Ken.” He turns to me. “I’m scared of being, betrayed again. I-I suppose back then I had to pay the price. I had betrayed Gláucia, promising her the world, but not truly loving her. I was scared to come out. Back then, as an officer, coming out would mean, ending my career in disgrace.” He smiles sadly. “I haven’t succeeded in keeping it, after all. I guess I’ve always fooled myself and others, making everybody believe I was someone special, that I would make it big in the world.” He turns to me. “You saw what they did to me, to make me understand I’m but filth and trash. No one would become interested in even coming close to me. Once they learn about my past, they’d avoid me as if I had leprosy, Ken.” His tears begin to fall. “Our correspondence through the internet, gave me, hope.” He looks at me. “I knew you were real. I knew you had feelings. That’s why I had to put everything at stake, for I knew you would listen to my tale, from the beginning until the end. And that’s what convinced me to come and, well, I’m here, aren’t I?”

“I’m sorry I sent you that cold message, dear.” He wipes my tears, and smiles.

“I knew it wasn’t like you to do it, Ken. I knew you cared about me. I knew you were different. I knew only you could face a monster and touch his heart, and make him feel alive again.”

“Now that I’ve touched your heart, Mr. Right, how about helping me prepare something for us to eat? You’re a big man and needs a lot of calories to keep running.”

“Sure.” He smiles. “I just wish I still had my job as a cop. This way I’d take you out for dinner in my car.” I stroke his face.

“I think having you over at my place, and cooking in our underwear is much more exciting, dear.” He looks at himself.

“Geez, and I’m not even wearing a fresh pair.” He blushes. I hand him an apron. “Thanks, Ken. That’s better.”

“How about making a nice spaghetti?”

“Sounds good to me, babe.”

“Valter, I’m glad I found you in this city.”

“And now I believe there’s a God. My sister always talks about Him at her church. Before coming to São Paulo, for the big Zombie Walk downtown, I prayed that a miracle would take place. And aren’t I at your place? God, I love you!” We kiss and I smile.

“Not now, dear! Let me feed you dinner first. Then we can, see how the evening goes.” He smiles.

Our simple spaghetti dinner is delicious. I have to take out the large crystal vase with the roses to my desk to make room for us. Valter tells me his fishing, swimming, driving stories. I tell him of my trips to the countryside: visiting my parents on their farm; taking incredible walks alongside the long winding gravel road; bathing under the gold hue of a sunset over the sea of dry wheat plantation; swimming under the cold crystal water of a waterfall.

We have some vanilla ice-cream with canned peaches. Valter just loves this simple dessert and has three peaches himself.

“I wish I could take you out for a drive in the country, Ken. Holambra is a beautiful city. I like it especially at night. I like to roam about, alone.”

“Tell you what, I’ll take you to the rooftop of this building.” He smiles. We get dressed and I take his hand. We lock the apartment and walk up to the elevator. We get off on the twentieth floor. Then we take two flights of stairs, open the first fire door, then another and walk past a dark hall.

“Oh, hi there! Don’t mind us and keep on doing what you were doing!” Valter says. We finally open the last door and feel the wind on our faces. I take his hand and guide him around some pipes and low steps.

“Watch your step, dear.” We find other couples kissing.

“Hey, that’s even better than having dinner at Terraço Itália Restaurant!” We lean against the wall and watch the city lights.

“That’s 23 de Maio Freeway. That’s Paulista Avenue. Over there you can see the Obelisk and Ibirapuera Park, which is the most famous park in São Paulo, dear.”

“So, that’s the park we’ve going to visit tomorrow, babe.” I turn to him. “You’re taking me there, aren’t you? Didn’t you say you were planning to spend the entire Sunday with me? I’m only leaving the city at six P.M. tomorrow at Tietê Bus Terminal.”

“I don’t have any other plans in mind but to have you all to myself tomorrow, dear.” He turns to me and kneels down.

“Ken, I’m a poor man, and you know it. I don’t have money to buy you a real ring. But I have this medal with a small cross. It belonged to my grandma. My mother inherited it and meant for my sister to have it. When my sister gave it to me, she said, “When you meet the right girl for your heart, you’ll know it. Then, you shall present your necklace as a gift to her as a token of your unconditional love. I think she meant Gláucia, but in my heart, I knew that one day,” he smiles and takes it off and hands it to me. “You’re he, my love! You’re my angel!”

“Put it on me, dear, please.” He puts it around my neck. “Thank you, Valter.” We kiss.

Parting is always hard, but it’s necessary. He climbs down the flight of stairs, opens the gate, and turns to me. We wave to each other and he disappears into the night.

On the following day, while sipping my cup of coffee, I listen to Edu on the phone and admire my red roses. He is obviously surprised to hear about yesterday’s turn of events. At the end of the call, he tells me to have a great Sunday with Mr. Right, and also to be careful; he also tells me to call him later tonight for an update. The moment I put the phone down, it rings again. I smile and answer it.

“Hello, Valter?”

“Is this Ken? This is Yoko, you aunt!” Geez, I apologize to her and she says it’s ok. “Listen, I tried to call you all day yesterday but you never answered the phone. Did you get my message, dear?” Just then I remember I had disconnected the phone yesterday. “But that’s ok, dear. Listen there’s a celebration at my church today and everybody is going to bring a friend or a relative. I’d hate to go there by myself. Would you like to come with me, dear?” I end up accepting, and even tell Auntie I’m bringing a friend along. We agree to meet at ten at Jabaquara Subway Station, near Habib’s Arabian Restaurant.

Geez, I just hope Valter won’t mind my change of plans. Poor man, I promised him we’d spend all day together, to get to know one another better. But I also couldn’t let Auntie down, poor thing--she’s a widow and has no kids. I know that her nephews and nieces live close by her big old house. But she’s confessed to me they hardly ever visit her. I think Uncle used to be a painter and a carpenter, while Auntie was a clerk at the bank. I think that as she retired from the bank, she took up a teaching job for grade one; it was an old dream of hers. She taught this group until she was close to seventy.

As I am doing my dishes, the intercom rings. The doorman announces Valter at the gate. I tell him to let him in. I dry my hands and think of what we could take to our picnic at the park in the afternoon: ham and cheese sandwiches, some chips, some apples and grapes. Luckily the fruits were on sale when I bought them. The doorbell rings.

“Good morning, Ken!”

“Hi, dear, come in!” Just then my neighbor peeks out and slams her door shut again.

As I close my door, we chuckle. Valter is wearing a nice navy blue Polo shirt, obviously a bit too tight for him. He’s also wearing the same pants he wore yesterday—dark green cotton ones. He’s also holding a small backpack. Poor man, he doesn’t seem to own much or he likes to travel light, or both.

“I thought of you all the time, Ken.” He puts his backpack on the floor. I admire his face and run my hand over his scar. “Do I look scarier to you during the day?”

“You look more humane, more tangible now, dear. Last night it felt like a dream, and I even doubted if you were real.” I touch the necklace he gave me. “But today, as I felt this necklace around my neck, I smiled and knew that you were real.” We kiss on the mouth.

“I’m real, babe.”

“Can you take off your Polo shirt, dear?” He grins and takes it off, disclosing his solid muscles and much body hair.

“I thought you’d never ask, babe.”

“Great! Now I can sew the small hole under the armpit, dear.”

“But before you do any sewing for me, let me kiss you, babe.” He takes me in his arms and we kiss again. He guides my hand over his bulge and rock-hard cock. We strip and I put his clothes on a chair, to not get them wrinkled. His briefs can hardly contain his pulsing cock.

“Let me take care of your cock, Valter!”

“Yeah, last night I felt horny while sleeping in my sister’s sofa. I couldn’t touch myself, for someone could hear me, because they live in a small house. So, I’ve got a big load stored for you, babe!” I waste no time and pull down his briefs, releasing his long fat cock.

The tip, with the hooded large mushroom head, is already oozing precum. I lick it clean and pull his foreskin. He moans and begs me to empty his load for him. As I lick the head of his cock clean, I run my hands over his solid firm hairy buttocks. I feel the scars and use my nails and take firm hold of my man.

“Yeah, feel them! Feel my scars! Oh, fuck! You’ve got a throat to die for! Yeah, keep my cock there! Fuck! This feels amazing! I haven’t felt it for years!” I waste no time and grab his large low hanging balls too and suck and fit each in my mouth. “Yeah, suck my big balls!” I go back to his cock and force it all the way down my throat and keep it there. “Fuck! Fuck! Ken! I’m going to cum! FUUUCK!” He shouts and empties his first big load for me. I gulp every single drop and lick his cock clean. Suddenly, we hear the neighbor’s loud music. We then look at each other and chuckle. “Let me kiss you, babe! I want to feel the taste of my cum in your mouth.” We kiss and he takes a condom from his pants’ pocket.

“I’ll get the Vaseline bottle, dear.”

“I’m putting my condom on, babe. I’m clean and don’t have any STDs.”

“In this case, you don’t have to wear it, dear.” He grins and takes me in his arms again.

“Valter, come closer to the light. I want to see you.” I open the curtain and let his naked furry muscular body bathe in the sun.

“I even have some scars deep inside my butthole too.” He spreads the cheeks of his buttocks, and discloses the deep scar. “Also near my balls. By a miracle, the doctors could save them. They said one of the balls was hanging loose and was almost torn apart.” I move my hand over his back, armpits, and legs. Then I feel his furry pecs, belly, belly-button, and the protruding scar below it. “Jesus, I-I’m actually enjoying you inspecting my body. You’re not a doctor, but someone who cares about me. I’ve never felt this comfortable being totally naked in broad daylight with someone. I’ve always felt conscious and deeply hurt, my love.” I stroke his face and we kiss. Then I look into his dark brown eyes and grin.

“Fuck me, big daddy!” He squints his eyes.

“I hope you know that you’re playing with fire, my boy!”

“I do, big daddy.” I turn around and rub my ass against his rock-hard throbbing cock.

“Fuck! What a hot ass you have, boy! Big daddy can’t hold it any longer!” He slaps my ass and to my delight, he rims me with his thick hairy finger.

“Oh, daddy! Put lots of lube for your boy, please!”

“You’re going to beg for more after we’re done, my boy!”

Without wasting time, he inserts his finger all the way in and twists it. I moan and ask for the real thing instead. I tell him I’m tired of toys. I beg him to use his big throbbing cock instead. In no time, he pushes the large mushroom head of his cock right inside my ass with no mercy. I like a real man with an attitude!

“You like it rough, don’t you, boy?”

“Ouch! Yeah, daddy! I’ll do everything for you! Fuck my ass, daddy!” He shoves his cock in and I cry in pain. I bite my teeth and smile as I feel his big balls already banging against me. Geez, that was a fast entrance! If I don’t bleed, it’s going to be a miracle.

“Oh, boy! Oh, my sweet boy! Big daddy is going to cum!” He thrusts his cock like a piston, and speeds up his pace. “Oh, fuck! YESSS! OHHH MY BOY AHHH!” I feel my insides burning and also being flooded with his hot semen. His throbbing cock never stops releasing more cum. As he is about to pull out, I stop him.

“No, big daddy! I haven’t had enough of your big cock yet.”

“But my boy, I don’t know if I have the strength to fuck your ass again!” He protests, but I can tell his cock is still semi-erect. He just needs a little nudge.

“Big daddy, give me another load! I want to feel if a scumbag like you, totally covered in ugly scars can score again like a real man! I know you’ve been branded to be a bitch of somebody else! I know your sorry ass belongs to somebody else. But can’t you make a little effort and fuck me again, like a real man? Aren’t you tired of being looked down upon by Raposo and Otacílio? I bet that their cocks are bigger and harder, and much more powerful than yours! No wonder Gláucia cheated on you with Otacílio! Who would want to settle with a faggot whose sorry branded ass is for everybody’s taking? No wonder you’ve been raped and beaten like a bum, like a scumbag that you are!” Needless to say, he’s livid and paralyzed with anger. His cock has already hardened to the bursting point. It has worked!

“Bitch! How dare you?” He snarls. “How dare you say those things to my face! How dare you say what those bastards did to my ass! Let met show you who’s the real man here! I’ll show you what big daddy can do to your ass, my boy! You’ve asked for it, boy!” I begin to regret for having a big tongue. Now he’s going to bust my ass and rip me to pieces! I just hope he won’t kill me, so that we can still attend Auntie’s church service later.

“Go for my ass, big daddy! Prove to me that you’re not an extinct cold volcano! Prove to me that you can perform, even after being branded and all patched up, like a queer Frankenstein!”

“Fuck! This feels amazing! Oh, fuck! I haven’t felt like this in ages! Oh, fuck! This is a thousand times better than jacking off in bed or in the shower! I’d beat my meat twice or even three times a day thinking of that rape scene. Thinking of how good it was to be raped by my master, being branded by those men who were more muscular and proud than me. Oh, fuck! Yeah! Big daddy is now going to cum! FUUUCK! JESUS! YESSS!” He shouts and floods me again with his cum. This time I feel it oozing down my legs. He keeps on thrusting me, while more cum keeps oozing down. He finally stops, pulls out, and turns to me. “Fuck you! I love you, Ken!” We hug and I feel his sweaty body locked against mine. He gets on his knees and then kisses my feet.

“Shall we take a shower, daddy.” He stands up slowly, feeling exhausted. He grins and strokes my face.

“Yeah, my boy. Big daddy needs to take a shower now. Shall we go then?”

“You know the rules in this bathroom, big daddy!”

“I’m so exhausted, you can even pin me against the wall and fuck my ass raw and I wouldn’t be able to defend myself or utter a cry, my boy.” We shower and wash each other. Then we dry and get dressed.

“You were amazing, daddy.” He grins.

“Did I hurt you, my boy?”

“I can still walk, though slowly.” He hugs me and strokes my hair.

“Oh, Ken! I’m so sorry, babe! I’m such a big ass! I keep forgetting I’m a big man and can hurt others. Do you forgive me, babe?” He looks into my eyes, like a tame giant beast. I smile.

“Only if you kiss me, big daddy.” We kiss.

“I’ll do anything for you, my boy! I’ll clean the house for you, I’ll cook for you. Just ask your big daddy, and he’ll do anything for his sweet boy.” I grin.

“Oh, really, dear!” I tell him to come along with me to visit my Auntie.

“But are you sure you can walk to the subway station, my love? I can easily carry you on my back, if you want. You seem to be quite light, my love.” He looks concerned.

“I’m fine, dear. Jesus! Look at the time! It’s ten past nine already! We’ve got to hurry up!” As he puts on his socks, pants, and shoes, I quickly sew the small hole under his armpit.

“This is my brother-in-law’s Polo shirt. Definitely my right size is XL now.”

“There! Let’s hurry up, dear! We can’t leave my Auntie waiting!” We get the keys, wallet, and I suggest Valter take his backpack along, in case we don’t return to the house.

The interval between trains takes longer on Sundays. But once we get on the wagon, we get to Jabaquara Station in no time. I show Valter the way around the chaotic tunnels, escalator, and exits at this station. Then on the surface, I point to an old beige Mercedes.

“Believe me daddy! That car used to be white when I first saw Auntie driving it, I think.” He looks puzzled.

“Really? Geez, so it must be quite old then!”

“Hi, Auntie, dear! How are you?”

“Get in the car, boy!” Valter turns to me and grins. “You said you’d bring a friend not a body guard along, Jesus!”

“You’re looking good, Auntie!”

“Haven’t you just crossed a red traffic light?” Valter comments.

“Yes, it was, officer! But I’m an older lady, and I’m late for church!” She grins.

“Auntie, dear! How did you know Valter used to be an officer?”

“I used to date some of them before your uncle forced me to marry him.” We turn to her.

“Did Uncle Shigeru really do that, Auntie?”

“Of course not! I saw that conceited asshole in this brand new car and said, it’s got to be him!” She smiles. “Some of those officers I’ve dated have even entered politics and today are big shots in the government.” She stops the car and we get off.

As we enter the crowded church, all eyes are turned to us. The pastor stops speaking for a moment until we’re properly seated near the front. Valter, I’m sure, must be mad at me for having brought him here of all places.

“Mrs. Nakamura,” the pastor says.

“It’s Ms Nakamura, Pastor Lima!” She snaps. Dead silence. The pastor corrects himself and asks Auntie to introduce us to the church. “This is my nephew Ken and his cop boyfriend.” My cheeks burn and I don’t have the heart to look at Valter.

“Welcome Ken and,” he smiles.

“Valter, sir, I mean, Pastor Lina.” Valter smiles. He looks fine to me, and even more composed.

At the end of the service, we greet the beaming and sweating pastor, his short chubby wife, and a couple of people.

Back to Auntie’s house, we have a traditional Japanese lunch.

“Auntie, dear, your nishime is just right. I’d just add a bit of soy sauce, to balance with the sweetness.” I smile.

“You’re just like your mother, Ken!” She adds soy sauce.

“I’ve had this dish before, Ms. Nakumura.”

“Call me Auntie, Valter.” He nods. “So, you’re used to eating bamboo shoots, gobo roots, fish sausages, sticky taro potatoes, tender konbu kelp!” He nods. She then turns to me. “By the way, how did you meet Mr. Scarface, Ken?”

“Auntie! What a thing to say! You’ll end up hurting his feelings!”

“Ken and I met online, Auntie.” He smiles.

“You met that man on the internet, Ken! What if he’s a wanted criminal, Ken? Not that he doesn’t look like one. Well, and does your mother know anything about this?”

“I was going to tell her later, Auntie.”

“In which police station are you working for, officer?” We surely haven’t got a good start for our lunch.

Valter, in his measured calmness, lays the whole truth before Auntie, without sparing or leaving out a single detail. She doesn’t show any emotion and listens attentively. God knows what she has in mind when her mouth is shut. At the end of his tale, she puts down her chopticks. Valter uses them masterfully, to my surprise.

“So, how come you haven’t fought back, officer?”

“But I,” Valter looks down.

“There are no buts, officer! Listen up, give me two weeks and I’ll set everything straight with you and your buddies in the countryside. I know some important people in politics that can do that for me. And believe me, they wouldn’t dare say no to me! Besides, I hate to see my nephew being engaged to someone who’s been badly treated and abused by the law.”

“Thank you, Auntie.” We finish our lunch and we offer to do the dishes. In the meantime, she prepares several bundles of goodies for us to take along.

“These are for you.” She hands me a nice basket, which Valter helps me carry. “I’ll drive you anywhere you want. Shall we go now? I’ve got some important calls to make later.” She checks her gold watch.

Auntie drops us off at the gate of Ibirapuera Park. I kiss her and Valter shakes her hand.

“You’ll get you job back, and your criminal record cleared, officer.”

“I-I really don’t know what to say, Auntie.”

“You just take good care of my nephew, and don’t worry about the rest. And be happy, both of you! Sayonara!”

She drives away and we turn to each other. I shrug my shoulders and he kisses me.

“Jesus, are you sure Auntie was a bank clerk and a teacher and not an army general, my love?” We chuckle and walk towards the lake. He picks a nice spot on the grassy area under a good shade. I notice it’s a cherry tree; they’re fully covered in lush dark green leaves.

“Too bad those cherry trees don’t produce any fruit, my love.” He is leaning against the tree, legs stretched. I lean against him and feel his big arms around me.

“But they produce lovely blossoms, dear!

“And when is that, my love? I’ve always dreamed of seeing them, like in the movies.”

“They’ll blossom again next year, in July, dear.” He kisses my head.

“Next year,” he kisses my head and brings me closer to him. “It seems so far away, my love. I wish so much I could take care of you, live together, and spend the seasons by your side, my angel.” I smile and kiss his arm.

“It can still be done, dear. We just need to be patient.”

“I’ve always been so patient, my love. But now that daddy has found his boy, how is he going to live, being separated and living in another city, and so far away from here? And what is worse, I haven’t got a penny to my name.”

“We’ve got to have faith, dear. Remember, Auntie said she’ll contact her big shots to help you.” He kisses my head.

“I don’t know about that, my love. In any case, I promise to you that I’ll try to find a good job, save money, and buy a nice house for us to move in. Then we’ll be able to travel. I’ll take you to your folk’s farm; they’ll get to know me, and you’ll feel proud of me. Then we’d take walks along those endless gravel roads, and soak in the golden hue of a sunset, in a dry wheat field. We’d feel the breeze of freedom and happiness.”

We get at Tietê Bus Terminal at ten to six P.M.

Valter pretends that his Cometa Bus to Campinas City is not by the platform, just waiting for him. He says that once in Campinas Bus Terminal, he has to wait for almost one hour to take his next bus to Holambra City. Then about one hour later, he should arrive in his city. If all goes well, before ten P.M., he should be home. I hand him some of the goodies Auntie prepared for us. He puts it in his backpack.

“Valter, the driver has already called everybody to board the bus, dear.” He looks downcast.

“Ken, I’m really bad at parting. But I want you to know that, I’m thankful to you for having given me hope again.” He hugs me tightly.

“I’ll wait for you, dear. We shall see each other again soon. Oh, Valter, my dear sweet officer!”

“Be brave, my love. And pray for me. Goodbye!”

“Goodbye!”

He boards the bus and the door closes slowly. By the little window, I see his dear face once more, framed against glass and metal. He waves and blows kisses. I wave and also blow kisses.

“Until we meet again, dear officer…”