Willard Strong looked out through the peephole of his apartment, chuckling to himself when he saw who had knocked on the door, and while he wasn't really surprised to see the young man out there he was a bit shocked to see how little time Bobby McDonald wasted before coming back for more.
Less than 24 hours earlier the lad had emerged from the old man's apartment quite different that he had been when he entered the modest dwelling an hour before. The kid had come in there thinking he was doing the old guy a favor by running an errand to the store for him, but what he got in return as appreciation was something young Bobby not only hadn't expected but had never experienced before by anyone male or female, young or old.
"Wait for it," Willard said to himself as he watched Bobby fidgeting on the other side of the door, trying to decide whether or not to knock again while Willard - well over three times the age of his eighteen year old neighbor but almost as anxious - waited as long as he dared before answering the knock.
"Oh - Bobby!" Willard Strong said after he opened the door, acting like he was surprised to see the lad, and when Bobby saw that he must have woken up this neighbor because he was glad only in a t-shirt and boxer shorts he got even more flustered.
"Uh - sorry Mr. Strong," Bobby mumbled, his occasional stuttering problem becoming more apparent as he tried to both apologize and explain why he was there. "Didn't mean to - uh - wake you up."
"Oh I was up already," Willard replied, and after a pause added, "Nice to see you again Bobby. What brings you here on the beautiful morning? Did you forget something yesterday?"
"Uh no," Bobby said as he shuffled his feet while looking around to make sure nobody was watching him. "I was just wondering if you - you know - needed anything? Stuff at the store or anything?"
"I don't think so," Willard said as he pretended to think about the question while looking at the cartoon character on the lad's t-shirt and trying to figure out who the hell these Super Mario Brothers were. "Nice of you to stop by to check on me though."
"Oh," Bobby said as his foot pawed at the door mat in front of the old man's door, and after Willard felt the lad had suffered enough, continued.
"Would you like to come in?" Willard asked, and the boy's Adam's apple bounced wildly before he nodded and stepped in quickly like Willard was going to change his mind if he delayed. "It's such a nice day and I'm sure you and your friends have a lot of stuff planned now that summer vacation has started."
"No," Bobby said as he entered the apartment. "I had fun with you yesterday, talking and stuff."
"I sensed that," Willard said, although he knew damn well that it wasn't the talking that brought Bobby back, it was the other "stuff".
Strange that the lad had managed to go 18 years without having his cock sucked, Willard had thought, because although the skinny and awkward kid was very awkward socially and had a bit of a speech impediment, he wasn't all that bad looking.
Bobby was rather intelligent as well, although his nervousness made that fact difficult to detect at first. What Bobby was most of all was naive, but he had learned a little the day before and now that he had returned to Willard's lair, the retired widower wanted to expand the soon-to-be college freshman's education.
As the two went into the kitchen Willard wondered whether he had ever been as naive and confused as Bobby was. Willard had been 18 back in 1940, 49 years ago, and that world was much different than the world of 1988, but Willard admitted that he was pretty lost back then himself until and alder man took him under his wing.
Just paying it forward, Willard thought while justifying what he had done yesterday to Bobby as well as what he wanted to do now and in the future. That was what Bobby wanted as well, even if the lad didn't know it yet, and after he poured his company a glass of orange juice Willard decided to put Bobby even more on the defensive.
"I'm just curious," Willard mused aloud as they sat at the kitchen table. "After you left here yesterday, did you run and tell your friends all about what happened?"
"Me?" Bobby asked, and as he shook his head so hard it must have hurt he mumbled, "No sir. I would never do anything like that. Besides, I don't have many friends anyway."
Willard had sensed that after watching the young man come and go, with most of the other kids that got off the bus with him in front of the apartment complex grouping off without Bobby, and it was probably that loneliness that made him so eager for a friend.
"I assume that you didn't say anything to your mother either," Willard asked, even though he knew the answer before he asked the question.
Bobby lived with his mother in this run-down apartment complex, and apparently his old man divorced his mother which explained why Bobby was kind of a Momma's boy although the lad had bristled the day before when Willard had suggested that he should ask his mother if it was okay to run errands for a stranger.
"I'm a man and can do what I want," Bobby had announced, thrusting out his chest and announcing that his mother couldn't tell him what to do anymore, of course that was when that chest was covered by a shirt and his shorts weren't in a bunch on Willard's floor.
"So exactly what is it that brings you back here?" Willard finally asked as Bobby sipped his juice and stared at the floor space between them.
"Nothing to do," Bobby said, and offered to leave if he was being a pain.
"No, you're fine. I like the company," Willard said, and it was amusing that he had remained fully dressed all yesterday afternoon, unlike how he was there in the kitchen. "Would you feel more comfortable if I got some clothes on? You caught me a little by surprise here this morning."
"No," Bobby said and then shrugged his shoulders while nodding down. "I was just staring at your legs."
"Not what they used to be I'm afraid," Willard said with a twinge of regret about his spindly limbs.
"No, they're neat," Bobby said. "Really hairy."
"That so?" Willard replied as he reached down and ran his hand over the sliver and black fur on his calves. "Back when I was young they were a lot hairier. Guess when I got old a lot of his fell off, like on my head."
"My Dad had hairy legs too," Bobby said in a sad voice. "Always hoped mine would get like that too."
"Give it time," Willard responded as he looked at the light down at the inside of Bobby's legs, which were even skinnier than his own, and he was tempted to tell Bobby that he liked him just the way it was but held his tongue. "So Bobby, are you going to tell me why you're here? Why you really came back?"