Grease Monkey

I'll have to admit I was a naive kid. With no brothers and some rather Puritanical parents, I was unprepared for the changes my thirteen year old body was experiencing. Sure I knew where babies came from, but that was about it. I had never even seen my Dad without clothes since he kept his door and the bathroom door closed when he disrobed.

I used to like going with him to the Home Improvement Center on the weekends. Dad always had a project to keep him busy on the weekends. On that August weekend, the mission was to fix up the bathroom. First of all, Dad wanted to replace the shower curtain with a new glass door. He also wanted to make the linen closet deeper. Dad had drilled a hole in the back wall of that closet to confirm that there was only a plywood panel separating that closet from my bedroom closet. It would be easy, he said, to steal a few inches from my oversized closet so he could make the linen closet shelves deep enough to hold the bath towels.

While Dad browsed up and down the aisles, I took off and wandered around on my own. I often found myself in the aisle with the young buff construction guys. I was fascinated by the unselfconscious way they scratched their crotches or raised their bulky arms to reveal dark hairy armpits. When one of them would bend over to grab some screws from the bottom shelf, I'd imagine what his denim-clad butt would smell like if I got close enough. I was shocked by my own weird imagination and strangely excited by it.

On our way home Dad said, "Nick, we gotta stop for gas. The gauge is almost on empty. I'll stop in at Al's" "Sure, Dad," I didn't mind going to Al's Gulf Station, especially because I might catch a glimpse of Gianni, who was the son of the service station owner, Al. I remember thinking it was hard to believe Gianni and Al were related. Al was shaped like a beer keg, balding with stringy gray hair, had a slight limp and spoke with a vague Italian Accent. Gianni was perfect. Wavy brown hair, great white teeth and nicely built in his mechanics uniform. I used to think his name was Johnny, but staring at him from the back seat of the station wagon I would see the embroidered name on his work shirts: G I A N N I. I loved watching his beefy arms as he came so close to me to unscrew the gas cap. My eyes were glued to his greasy hands, with short fingernails with black lines of grease under them. Looking at him made me blush for what reason I could not imagine. Sometimes we'd made eye contact and he'd flash me those pearly whites. I was especially excited when, waiting for the tank to fill, he'd occasionally lean back on the gas pump, raise his arms up and fold his hands behind his head. Then he'd cross his legs at the ankles, causing the khaki work pants to form a prominent bulge at his groin. Dad's pants never did that.

This day was a lucky one for me. It was not Al, but Gianni who approached the car. Rolling down the window Dad said, "fillerup, please. Gianni is your father here?"
"Nope. But what can I do ya for, Mr. Roarke?"
"I really need a tune-up and I was hoping Al could squeeze me in on Tuesday."
"Sure thing, Mr Roarke. I'll check the book and make sure it's OK."
Walking away I noticed Gianni's work pants were kinda folded into the crack of his ass. Almost as if he could here what I was thinking, he reached his greasy had back and pulled out the wedgie.
When he returned to confirm the appointment, he asked my Dad, "Will you need me to drive Mrs. Roarke back when she drops off the car?"
"Yes please." In those days, most families were one-car families. Dad commuted on the train and mom kept the car to shop and take me to little league and stuff like that. Al Service Station was indeed big on service, so Al would let Gianni drive home his customers while they repaired their cars. Then when the car was ready, he'd pick them up and bring them back to the station.

So at 1 pm on Tuesday, Mom said her friend Gina was taking her to the beauty parlor. She'd be home by four, cause that's when Gianni would be picking her up to get our car after the tune-up.

At 2:30 the doorbell rang and there was Gianni flashing me that smile.
"Hey kid, go get your Mom, I got the car done early for her."
"Sorry, Gianni, she's not here now. She said you wouldn't be here til four and she's getting her hair cut with a friend of hers."
"FUCK." The smile turned into a grimace. "Sorry, kid. I figured she couldn't go nowhere without the car. I got a date in a little while and I finished early so I could go home and get ready. Shit, what am I gonna do. Can't be late for this date. This chick is sweet!"
"Why don't you come in and maybe I can call Mom up and she can come home."
"Yeah, OK." He took off his work shoes and left them outside by the door, saying "Don't wanna get no grease on your carpet."
While I tried to find the beauty parlor in the phone book, Gianni looked frustrated and said, "This ain't gonna work, kid. If she's in the middle of a haircut she can't just run out, and her friend's not going to leave in the middle, too. DAMN, fuckin idiot I am. It takes me a while to clean off all this grease after work and now I'm gonna have to wait here for another 45 minutes." He lifted up his big and dirty hands and I understood his predicament.
"I got an idea, Gianni"
"What, kid?"
"Look, we got a shower. . . With a new shower door I helped my Dad with on Sunday. At least you could clean up here."
"That's not a bad idea, squirt. But I still can't go home and get a change of clothes and still be at the train station to pick her up in time."
"Well, let me think. I'll bet I can find one of my Dad's shirts that will fit you. He'd never miss it. I'm not sure about the pants, though."
"OK, I'll do it, and if this works out, kid, I'll owe you big-time!"
Beaming with pride, and blushing from his smile, I showed him up to the bathroom. "Let me find some towels. We haven't finished with the linen closet that we're working on so there's no towels in here"

By the time I ran to the pile of towels on Dad's desk and returned to the bathroom, Gianni, had taken off most of his clothes and was wrestling his bikini briefs off his big feet. He was a breathtaking sight, as he bent over to yank off his socks. I stood frozen watching the most amazing body I had ever seen. Come to think of it, I don't think I've seen a finer specimen in the thirty years since then. When he was done, he turned toward me and I saw my first glimpse of adult cock.I am not embellishing when I say that it wasn't until years later, when I saw a picture of Michaelangelo's David that I realized the perfection of Gianni's naked body.
"What the fuck are you staring at kid. Do I got something you ain't seen before?"
"Yeah, kinda," I mumbled, regaining my senses, and bringing him the towels.
"OK kid, the show's over" he said and pushed me out of the bathroom and shut the door. I went back to my bedroom, not sure what to do next, but then instinctively reaching down my pants to touch myself.

"Nick, Hey NICK!!!!" It was Gianni. He actually knew my name, he had only called me "Kid" before.
"Can you come here, kid?" he shouted. Hearing him shout, I realized I could hear the sound coming not from my bedroom door, but from my closet. I guess the hole Dad had drilled from the linen closet made the sound travel. That's when I realized I could probably see into the bathroom through that hole. But I had to go and find out what Gianni needed.

I knocked politely on the bathroom door.
"Open it kid, didn't you hear me calling you?"
"What is it Gianni?" He had opened the shower door a few inches and stood looking at me, soaking wet with water dripping down his fine smooth pecs, his nipples, down his washboard stomach, disappearing into a forest of curly pubic hair only to reappear on that remarkable purple banana that swung between the grease monkey's thighs. It seemed like hours were passing and he still hadn't told me what he had called me for.
"Okay, Nick, I can see you're enjoying the view, but would you mind seeing if your Dad has some hand cleaner to help get some of this grease off me."
"Yeah, he's got that! it's down at his workbench!" I could not take my eyes from this adonis.
"Will you get it or do you want me to take my wet ass out of the shower and find it myself?"
"OH, OH yeah!"I tore down the stairs to get the can from the workbench. All the while excited to go back to my room and check out the view from the hole in my closet wall. When I returned to the shower only Gianni's open hand came out of the shower. "OK, get outta here now kid" he said as he snatched the can from my hands.