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Running away was a fucking good idea. You bet it was. Frisco was the place to be. School was ridiculous and the old asshole told me to leave anyway. Who cares if he meant it or not? It was right after he slapped me for pointing out that if he could fuck that slut from work then maybe I should be able to go to the fucking college I wanted to go to. I didn't even call her a slut, although that's exactly what she was. Elizabeth Ann. Give me a break. Blow job Betty, me and my sister called her. I saw her once. She was a slut par excellence with her big soft ass jiggling in her synthetic white lab tech pants and her penciled in eyebrows and that sassy little fuck me grin she gave Pops. I bet he gave her a cum aperitif in some closet while I was reading about the hippies in Time Magazine in his office. I'll get to the hippies later.
That slap was no little pat either. My jaw hurt for a week. But I didn't give a shit. The old fucker and Cunt Trail City and Jackoffson High School were miles and miles behind me by then. It only took me half an hour to stuff some clothes in my knapsack and dig out my fifty bucks. I left a note to my mom trying to explain things, telling her not to worry and I'd be in touch. Then all I had to do was stroll down to the main highway and stick out my thumb. The middle of April was a good time to go. It wasn't too hot yet. When I got to Indiana I turned left and my next ride took me all the way to Missouri. It rained and blew pretty hard in Kansas but my poncho kept me from getting soaked above the knees. The weirdest ride was that drunken black guy who picked me up outside of Salina. I shouldn't have gotten in but I'd been waiting a long time and it was getting dark. It wasn't that the guy was unfriendly but he started calling me Jesus Christ, showed me a gun he had in the glove compartment, was screaming at other drivers and weaving through traffic at eighty plus. After that I felt OK about standing in the dark and watching the cars whoosh by and ignore me.
A trucker picked me up about midnight and it was pretty much smooth sailing the rest of the way. Three rides took me to the California border and I had to wait there a couple hours. Then some hippies picked me up in their VW bus. Damn if two of them weren't doing it in the back when I got in. Loud. The dude driving passed me a J but naturally it just put me to sleep. Six hours later I was across the street from Tillie's and they were flashing me peace signs aloha.
It was early afternoon and Tillie wasn't home yet. I sat down on her step and took a deep breath. Car exhaust, sea breeze and something else. I don't know what. I always loved this town. Before we moved to Kentucky when I was eight we lived across the Bay in Oakland and almost every Sunday went to Grandma's house in the Mission for dinner. Tillie was aways there, sometimes with her crazy friend Josephine or the pretty one Dorrie or someone else weird and wonderful. Grandma made stuff like borscht and chicken with fried potato latkes, maybe her amazing matzo ball soup. She always had some soda as she called it in the frig for us kids, Ginger Ale most likely. Ellen and I would play with toys Grandma kept special for us while the adults talked or watched shows like Ernie Kovacs or What's My Line? on the tiny black and white TV in the living room. Grandma's third husband Morris and my dad would watch baseball or the fights. Morris was a burly, gravel-voiced old Jewish guy who smoked nasty cigars that made my nose itch but I kind of liked them anyway. Morris, though not overtly friendly in any way, seemed to accept my existence so he was all right with me too.
We often got dressed up and went out on the town to eat in some neat restaurant in Chinatown or at Fisherman's Wharf, maybe go to a movie at a fancy theater downtown or just stroll the crowded streets in the evening with all the other denizens. We always dressed up and I felt very cool and sophisticated in my suit and tie and matching tie-clip and cuff links. Sometimes Mom would wear her chinchilla wrap and red lipstick. She'd order a couple very dry martinis and let me and Ellen have the olives. She let us have a sip too but it tasted like the worst medicine you ever had to choke down. We'd ride the electric buses with the lines overhead or maybe a cable car, feed the pigeons at the Legion of Honor, go to the zoo or be amazed at the weird fish in the Aquarium.
It all ended when Dad got in trouble with the medical board and the law for dipping into the morphine at the hospital. After a court ordered month at a rehab in Texas we had to move where he could get a license again, a place not many doctors wanted to be, specifically a crap-ass little town in Kentucky. There we all learned first hand about rednecks and bible bangers and how the Civil War wasn't over yet. Even when Dad started to make money again he managed to wreck things by fucking that lab tech. Nobody could tell Dad what to do. He was the big fucking boss of the world. I'd been thinking about my escape for over a year and finally I got my chance.
“Get the hell out of my house, you little bastard!” It was just what I wanted to hear.
Just a few months before that a friend of mine named Phil got me to thinking about Frisco again. He was my best and only friend except for Edna, my English teach. He graduated a year before me and I only saw him when he came home from college. “Insane, wild, far out.” Those were the words he used to describe the Frisco. Different was all I wanted. Different than Kentucky, sweating your ass off half the year with a bunch of crackers and debutantes running the show. Tillie was Dad's sister and she knew what a prick he could be. I figured she'd let me stay with her 'til I got on my feet. She'd always been pretty good to me.
I laid down on her step with my backpack for a pillow. I thought about all the things I wanted to do. Go to the zoo again, see the big ships at the Embarcadero, the boats and their catches down at Fisherman's wharf, the Golden Gate Bridge. Maybe I'd meet some groovy chick who looked like Michelle Phillips. She'd be working in one of those shops Phil told me about with the posters and the pipes and the beads. I'd be checking out the table with the massage oils. I'd pick the one up I'd seen advertised in Playboy. “Warms and Lubricates.” I'd look up and the girl would be watching me with a little smile on her face.
“How's this work?”
“Want to try it out?” She stood up.
“Wouldn't mind.”
“C'mon back here.” She walked over to some beaded curtains covering a doorway and parted them as she looked back at me. I followed her. Inside was a mattress on the floor covered with an East India print. The room was hazy and smelled like incense and pot. The walls were painted all kinds of swirls of colors that seemed to vibrate as some sitar music played on the stereo. Another girl, a gorgeous redhead, sat in a big easy chair with a J between her fingers.
“Take over for me, will ya, Jasmine?” said the blond.
The red-haired girl stood up and smiled and passed through the curtain into the store. The blond plopped down on the mattress.
“Here. Take your shirt off.”
I obliged and sat down next to her.
“Lie down.” She put some of the oil on her hands. She ran them up and down my spine. I began to relax.
“You have a good structure,” she said. “Are you a Libra?”
“Cancer.”
“That was my second guess!”
She dug her fingers in and I felt an electric tingle from the souls of my feet through my butt, climbing my spine up into my neck. I let out a long sigh.
“That's it. What's your name, Brother?”
“Jim.”
“That's a slave name. I'll call you Oak. Because you're so strong.”
Her hands gently squeezed my neck. All the tension was leaving me. I felt great.
“I'm Mountain Flower but you can call me Flow.”
She reached around to my belt buckle and undid it. She unzipped my pants and pulled them off.
“This'll make it easier.”
She lightly brushed my right ass cheek with her fingertips. My dick jumped. I heard a rustle of cloth. I looked up just in time to see her lift her dress above her head and off. She was naked and beautiful.
She lay down next to me and lightly kissed my ear.
“Cancers always open my heart chakra.”
I turned towards her and we wrapped our arms around each other. I was stiff against her. She reached down and squeezed me lightly with her oily hand as we kissed. I pressed my lips hard against hers and...
“Jim!” I opened my eyes and jumped up. It was Tillie. “Jesus Christ! You scared the shit out of me!”
“Sorry. I guess I fell asleep.”
“What in God's name are you doing here?”
“I hitched.”
“From Kentucky?” She looked at me wide eyed.
“Yeah.”
“Why didn't you call me or something?” She fumbled in her purse and then put a key in the door and opened it. The room was dark inside and she flipped on the light.
“I just couldn't take it anymore. I had to get out of there.”
“Didn't you pass by a phone booth between here and Kentucky?” She threw her keys down on a table and took her coat off. She had on a purple leotard top and a loose dark skirt that came above her knees. She was pretty attractive for someone pushing forty, long dark hair, sexy Jewish eyes, good sized boobs, really nice legs and butt. “Jesus Christ!” She went to a cupboard in the kitchen part of the efficiency and took out a bottle of wine and a large glass. She poured the red liquid up to the top of it and lit a cigarette and plopped into a chair. “Jesus!”
I stood there nervously.
“Well sit down for Christ's sake.” She took a long pull of the wine and yanked her shoes off.
I sat down on the couch and put my backpack on the floor.
“Dad was...”
“That asshole! That son of a bitch!” She took a big drag on her cigarette and blew the smoke out hard. “Does he know you're here?”
“He told me to leave.”
She picked up the phone and started to dial.
“You're not going to call him are you?” I felt that thing in my throat like when I was a kid about to cry.
She looked at me as she held the phone to her ear.
“Hi. Listen I can't make it tonight.”
A pause.
“Something has come up goddammit!”
She took another drag from her cigarette.
“It's none of your fucking business!”
Another pause.
“Well then kiss my ass!”
She slammed the phone down.
“Jesus Christ! Men are all alike!” She put the cigarette into an ash tray and stood up. “Are you hungry?” She walked back into the kitchen.
“Yeah.”
“You're starving aren't you?” She rummaged through the cupboard.
“Well...”
“Oh shit what's the use! I'm out of everything.” She came back to her chair and sat down again, taking another big gulp of the wine.
She looked at me funny for a moment. “So you hitchhiked all the way from Kentucky?”
I grinned. “Yeah.”
“You idiot!” Was she trying not to smile? “And you figured I'd put you up.”
“I'm going to get a job.”
“And then your own apartment?”
“Yeah.”
“You and all the other fucking hippies. You have any idea what it's like getting a job now?”
“Well I can work in a gas station or something. I did it last summer.”
She tilted her head back and laughed. “Oh you poor little lamb.” She picked up her left foot and rubbed it. “We'll have to go out to eat.”
“I'm sorry.”
“That's OK. I don't want to cook.” She rubbed the other foot. “You better like Italian food.”
“That'd be great.”
She pulled a pair of sandals out of a closet and slipped her stockinged feet into them “OK.” She looked in a mirror and flicked some strands of hair out of her eyes and then picked up her purse and keys. “Let's go.”
It was early evening and the city seemed to be gearing up for it. I could see a lot of people in their cars were dressed up and probably on their way to some romantic rendezvous. The sun would still be up if you could see it through the clouds. I felt very happy. This was all going to turn out really well.
As we walked down the steep sidewalk I told Tille about life in Central City, Dad's rages, Mom's pills, the booze, the scenes, the fights, the broken furniture. She listened quietly, asked a question here and there, let out a few choice expletives. I loved every second of it. Not only did I finally have someone who would listen and understand all the bullshit but the air was fresh and clear and the city around us was humming with excitement and possibilities.
As we sat in the restaurant, Tillie and I drifted to happier memories from when I was a kid, reading Mad Magazine together on the bus home from some outing, a climb to the top of Coit Tower in the fog, a Giants baseball game, watching Mays or McCovey hit them out of the park. “Now those are the real men,” she always used to say. When our dinner came she let me have a glass of Chianti and no one asked how old I was. It made me feel like a real person at last instead of a fugitive.
When we got back to the apartment she fixed up the couch for me. Maybe it was the wine but she looked pretty good to me in her nightgown and robe. When I got in bed and turned out the light I half wished she'd come and get in bed with me. After I jerked off I drifted to sleep, dreaming of riding horses on the beach. Sometimes they'd gallop so fast they'd take off into the air and you could sail over the city. Other people seemed to be riding winged horses around me. They smiled and waved and then everyone watched as a giant tidal wave formed in the distance. It crashed before us but we took off and rode far beyond the city over the vast ocean under a sky filled with stars.

Description
Running away was a fucking good idea. You bet it was. Frisco was the place to be. School was ridiculous and the old asshole told me to leave anyway. Who cares if he meant it or not? It was right after he slapped me for pointing out that if he could fuck that slut from work then maybe I should be able to go to the fucking college I wanted to go to. I didn't even call her a slut, although that's exactly what she was. Elizabeth Ann. Give me a break. Blow job Betty, me and my sister called her. I saw her once. She was a slut par excellence with her big soft ass jiggling in her synthetic white lab tech pants and her penciled in eyebrows and that sassy little fuck me grin she gave Pops. I bet he gave her a cum aperitif in some closet while I was reading about the hippies in Time Magazine in his office. I'll get to the hippies later.
That slap was no little pat either. My jaw hurt for a week. But I didn't give a shit. The old fucker and Cunt Trail City and Jackoffson High School were miles and miles behind me by then. It only took me half an hour to stuff some clothes in my knapsack and dig out my fifty bucks. I left a note to my mom trying to explain things, telling her not to worry and I'd be in touch. Then all I had to do was stroll down to the main highway and stick out my thumb. The middle of April was a good time to go. It wasn't too hot yet. When I got to Indiana I turned left and my next ride took me all the way to Missouri. It rained and blew pretty hard in Kansas but my poncho kept me from getting soaked above the knees. The weirdest ride was that drunken black guy who picked me up outside of Salina. I shouldn't have gotten in but I'd been waiting a long time and it was getting dark. It wasn't that the guy was unfriendly but he started calling me Jesus Christ, showed me a gun he had in the glove compartment, was screaming at other drivers and weaving through traffic at eighty plus. After that I felt OK about standing in the dark and watching the cars whoosh by and ignore me.
A trucker picked me up about midnight and it was pretty much smooth sailing the rest of the way. Three rides took me to the California border and I had to wait there a couple hours. Then some hippies picked me up in their VW bus. Damn if two of them weren't doing it in the back when I got in. Loud. The dude driving passed me a J but naturally it just put me to sleep. Six hours later I was across the street from Tillie's and they were flashing me peace signs aloha.
It was early afternoon and Tillie wasn't home yet. I sat down on her step and took a deep breath. Car exhaust, sea breeze and something else. I don't know what. I always loved this town. Before we moved to Kentucky when I was eight we lived across the Bay in Oakland and almost every Sunday went to Grandma's house in the Mission for dinner. Tillie was aways there, sometimes with her crazy friend Josephine or the pretty one Dorrie or someone else weird and wonderful. Grandma made stuff like borscht and chicken with fried potato latkes, maybe her amazing matzo ball soup. She always had some soda as she called it in the frig for us kids, Ginger Ale most likely. Ellen and I would play with toys Grandma kept special for us while the adults talked or watched shows like Ernie Kovacs or What's My Line? on the tiny black and white TV in the living room. Grandma's third husband Morris and my dad would watch baseball or the fights. Morris was a burly, gravel-voiced old Jewish guy who smoked nasty cigars that made my nose itch but I kind of liked them anyway. Morris, though not overtly friendly in any way, seemed to accept my existence so he was all right with me too.
We often got dressed up and went out on the town to eat in some neat restaurant in Chinatown or at Fisherman's Wharf, maybe go to a movie at a fancy theater downtown or just stroll the crowded streets in the evening with all the other denizens. We always dressed up and I felt very cool and sophisticated in my suit and tie and matching tie-clip and cuff links. Sometimes Mom would wear her chinchilla wrap and red lipstick. She'd order a couple very dry martinis and let me and Ellen have the olives. She let us have a sip too but it tasted like the worst medicine you ever had to choke down. We'd ride the electric buses with the lines overhead or maybe a cable car, feed the pigeons at the Legion of Honor, go to the zoo or be amazed at the weird fish in the Aquarium.
It all ended when Dad got in trouble with the medical board and the law for dipping into the morphine at the hospital. After a court ordered month at a rehab in Texas we had to move where he could get a license again, a place not many doctors wanted to be, specifically a crap-ass little town in Kentucky. There we all learned first hand about rednecks and bible bangers and how the Civil War wasn't over yet. Even when Dad started to make money again he managed to wreck things by fucking that lab tech. Nobody could tell Dad what to do. He was the big fucking boss of the world. I'd been thinking about my escape for over a year and finally I got my chance.
“Get the hell out of my house, you little bastard!” It was just what I wanted to hear.
Just a few months before that a friend of mine named Phil got me to thinking about Frisco again. He was my best and only friend except for Edna, my English teach. He graduated a year before me and I only saw him when he came home from college. “Insane, wild, far out.” Those were the words he used to describe the Frisco. Different was all I wanted. Different than Kentucky, sweating your ass off half the year with a bunch of crackers and debutantes running the show. Tillie was Dad's sister and she knew what a prick he could be. I figured she'd let me stay with her 'til I got on my feet. She'd always been pretty good to me.
I laid down on her step with my backpack for a pillow. I thought about all the things I wanted to do. Go to the zoo again, see the big ships at the Embarcadero, the boats and their catches down at Fisherman's wharf, the Golden Gate Bridge. Maybe I'd meet some groovy chick who looked like Michelle Phillips. She'd be working in one of those shops Phil told me about with the posters and the pipes and the beads. I'd be checking out the table with the massage oils. I'd pick the one up I'd seen advertised in Playboy. “Warms and Lubricates.” I'd look up and the girl would be watching me with a little smile on her face.
“How's this work?”
“Want to try it out?” She stood up.
“Wouldn't mind.”
“C'mon back here.” She walked over to some beaded curtains covering a doorway and parted them as she looked back at me. I followed her. Inside was a mattress on the floor covered with an East India print. The room was hazy and smelled like incense and pot. The walls were painted all kinds of swirls of colors that seemed to vibrate as some sitar music played on the stereo. Another girl, a gorgeous redhead, sat in a big easy chair with a J between her fingers.
“Take over for me, will ya, Jasmine?” said the blond.
The red-haired girl stood up and smiled and passed through the curtain into the store. The blond plopped down on the mattress.
“Here. Take your shirt off.”
I obliged and sat down next to her.
“Lie down.” She put some of the oil on her hands. She ran them up and down my spine. I began to relax.
“You have a good structure,” she said. “Are you a Libra?”
“Cancer.”
“That was my second guess!”
She dug her fingers in and I felt an electric tingle from the souls of my feet through my butt, climbing my spine up into my neck. I let out a long sigh.
“That's it. What's your name, Brother?”
“Jim.”
“That's a slave name. I'll call you Oak. Because you're so strong.”
Her hands gently squeezed my neck. All the tension was leaving me. I felt great.
“I'm Mountain Flower but you can call me Flow.”
She reached around to my belt buckle and undid it. She unzipped my pants and pulled them off.
“This'll make it easier.”
She lightly brushed my right ass cheek with her fingertips. My dick jumped. I heard a rustle of cloth. I looked up just in time to see her lift her dress above her head and off. She was naked and beautiful.
She lay down next to me and lightly kissed my ear.
“Cancers always open my heart chakra.”
I turned towards her and we wrapped our arms around each other. I was stiff against her. She reached down and squeezed me lightly with her oily hand as we kissed. I pressed my lips hard against hers and...
“Jim!” I opened my eyes and jumped up. It was Tillie. “Jesus Christ! You scared the shit out of me!”
“Sorry. I guess I fell asleep.”
“What in God's name are you doing here?”
“I hitched.”
“From Kentucky?” She looked at me wide eyed.
“Yeah.”
“Why didn't you call me or something?” She fumbled in her purse and then put a key in the door and opened it. The room was dark inside and she flipped on the light.
“I just couldn't take it anymore. I had to get out of there.”
“Didn't you pass by a phone booth between here and Kentucky?” She threw her keys down on a table and took her coat off. She had on a purple leotard top and a loose dark skirt that came above her knees. She was pretty attractive for someone pushing forty, long dark hair, sexy Jewish eyes, good sized boobs, really nice legs and butt. “Jesus Christ!” She went to a cupboard in the kitchen part of the efficiency and took out a bottle of wine and a large glass. She poured the red liquid up to the top of it and lit a cigarette and plopped into a chair. “Jesus!”
I stood there nervously.
“Well sit down for Christ's sake.” She took a long pull of the wine and yanked her shoes off.
I sat down on the couch and put my backpack on the floor.
“Dad was...”
“That asshole! That son of a bitch!” She took a big drag on her cigarette and blew the smoke out hard. “Does he know you're here?”
“He told me to leave.”
She picked up the phone and started to dial.
“You're not going to call him are you?” I felt that thing in my throat like when I was a kid about to cry.
She looked at me as she held the phone to her ear.
“Hi. Listen I can't make it tonight.”
A pause.
“Something has come up goddammit!”
She took another drag from her cigarette.
“It's none of your fucking business!”
Another pause.
“Well then kiss my ass!”
She slammed the phone down.
“Jesus Christ! Men are all alike!” She put the cigarette into an ash tray and stood up. “Are you hungry?” She walked back into the kitchen.
“Yeah.”
“You're starving aren't you?” She rummaged through the cupboard.
“Well...”
“Oh shit what's the use! I'm out of everything.” She came back to her chair and sat down again, taking another big gulp of the wine.
She looked at me funny for a moment. “So you hitchhiked all the way from Kentucky?”
I grinned. “Yeah.”
“You idiot!” Was she trying not to smile? “And you figured I'd put you up.”
“I'm going to get a job.”
“And then your own apartment?”
“Yeah.”
“You and all the other fucking hippies. You have any idea what it's like getting a job now?”
“Well I can work in a gas station or something. I did it last summer.”
She tilted her head back and laughed. “Oh you poor little lamb.” She picked up her left foot and rubbed it. “We'll have to go out to eat.”
“I'm sorry.”
“That's OK. I don't want to cook.” She rubbed the other foot. “You better like Italian food.”
“That'd be great.”
She pulled a pair of sandals out of a closet and slipped her stockinged feet into them “OK.” She looked in a mirror and flicked some strands of hair out of her eyes and then picked up her purse and keys. “Let's go.”
It was early evening and the city seemed to be gearing up for it. I could see a lot of people in their cars were dressed up and probably on their way to some romantic rendezvous. The sun would still be up if you could see it through the clouds. I felt very happy. This was all going to turn out really well.
As we walked down the steep sidewalk I told Tille about life in Central City, Dad's rages, Mom's pills, the booze, the scenes, the fights, the broken furniture. She listened quietly, asked a question here and there, let out a few choice expletives. I loved every second of it. Not only did I finally have someone who would listen and understand all the bullshit but the air was fresh and clear and the city around us was humming with excitement and possibilities.
As we sat in the restaurant, Tillie and I drifted to happier memories from when I was a kid, reading Mad Magazine together on the bus home from some outing, a climb to the top of Coit Tower in the fog, a Giants baseball game, watching Mays or McCovey hit them out of the park. “Now those are the real men,” she always used to say. When our dinner came she let me have a glass of Chianti and no one asked how old I was. It made me feel like a real person at last instead of a fugitive.
When we got back to the apartment she fixed up the couch for me. Maybe it was the wine but she looked pretty good to me in her nightgown and robe. When I got in bed and turned out the light I half wished she'd come and get in bed with me. After I jerked off I drifted to sleep, dreaming of riding horses on the beach. Sometimes they'd gallop so fast they'd take off into the air and you could sail over the city. Other people seemed to be riding winged horses around me. They smiled and waved and then everyone watched as a giant tidal wave formed in the distance. It crashed before us but we took off and rode far beyond the city over the vast ocean under a sky filled with stars.