Something About Sammy. Blaine Sims
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100% of all net profits donated!
50% to the National Alliance on Mental Illness.
50% to the National Suicide Prevention Hotline
Disclaimer
Warning: This book contains explicit, vulgar language and expressions of feelings a person may find objectionable.
Characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events and places is coincidental.
Introduction
The mind is our most powerful tool, capable of the ability to create or destroy. Love, as beautiful and magical as it is, can damage and taint the most logical mind. One’s emotions can become overwhelmed, corroding their sanity enough to alter the individual beyond repair. The rational brain becomes plagued with irrational thought once passion and affection ignite. These feelings can evolve into extreme obsession, more so when combined with uncharacteristic sexual attraction.
Blaine Sims
Prologue
After moving, I busied myself getting organized, bought things for the apartment, worked on updating my resume, purchased a new car, and went to Rusty’s every day.
During a telephone call with my dear friend Angel, it dawned on me my whole reason for having moved to Bluewater Springs was to be with Cody, his new bride, and my granddaughter.
Angel said, “I’ve wondered how long it would be before you to realized!”
I can’t bring forth the first time I set eyes on Sammy. The thing is, something hit me. I’m reminded of the song by Lobo, ‘I’d Love You to Want Me.’
I found him intriguing, even mystifying. He reminded me of Cody, but differences existed. Though I didn’t know him at all, the strangest and most overwhelming sensation of love, caring, and concern swept over me. There was something else…
Chapter One
“Grief never ends, but it changes. It’s a passage, not a place to stay. Grief is not a sign of weakness, nor a lack of faith …it is the price of love.” — Unknown.
I yearned for my son, friends left behind, the lodge, and security of my job — pining for the familiarity accustomed to in every facet of my life.
At prior times in Bluewater Springs, whether to see Cody, go to a concert or both, I visited local bars and restaurants in my spare time. In the beginning, I frequented a small bar called ‘A Spot.’ Not far from the motel I stayed; it’s now closed.
I remember on a trip in November 2014, I visited another bar west of the motel. I can’t recall the first time, but I’m sure I ventured in at least once prior. It’s called Rusty’s.
Far from being a dirty, disgusting joint, cigarette smoke permeated every nook and cranny. To the older adult in me, it’s damp, dark, drab, and dreary. I wear a jacket, no matter the outdoor temperature, to ward off the chill rodents and bugs shun.
A strange fetal connection, a link of sorts to a years-gone-by familiar, cozy place, enwombs me. I took a liking to the main daytime bartender, a lady around my age named Allison.
She poured shots like a swashbuckling pirate and stocked beer bottles on ice with a thrust that would make an offensive guard proud. I returned numerous times. Although I would be in town for several days, I stopped in the afternoon, and near always on a weekday.
After moving, I busied myself getting organized, bought things for the apartment, worked on updating my resume, purchased a new car, and went to Rusty’s every day. I don't recall having seen him during those times.
Since I moved out of a one-room abode, I owned little in the way of furniture. A 55-inch ultra-high definition curved television made inclusion on my shopping list. Dozens of trips to Wal-Mart and other stores loaded me with bedding, dishware, cookware, photo, certificate frames, lamps, a chair, a desk, and other items.
For what I anticipated to be management-level employment interviews, I needed dress suits, shirts, and ties. The salespeople at the local Men’s Wearhouse beamed when they saw me approach!
In reference to my vehicle purchase, there is a humorous story. On the day I bought it, I carried no intention of doing so. I set out to buy a Lazy Boy dual recliner. On my way, I approached a dealership and stopped to browse. I drove away in a brand-new car! My recliner purchase didn’t happen until a week later.
During a telephone call with my dear friend Angel, it dawned on me my whole reason for having moved to Bluewater Springs was to be with Cody, his new bride, and my granddaughter.
“I’ve wondered how long it would be before you to realized,” Angel said.
I can’t bring forth the first time I set eyes on Sammy. The thing is, something hit me. I’m reminded of the song by Lobo, “I’d Love You to Want Me.” I found him intriguing, even mystifying.
He reminded me of my son, but differences existed. Though I didn’t know him at all, the strangest and most overwhelming sensation of love, caring, and concern swept over me.
There was something else.
I felt a powerful sexual attraction. I considered this a bombshell and deemed both feelings incomprehensible. I’ve never felt attracted to a guy! What the fuck? Had I turned gay?
If so, I would have handled it with less grief. I’ve not engaged in sex for close to thirty years. Unable to participate in intercourse or sexual activity, far too many years have passed. I’ve had intimate relations with four women.
I recognize and appreciate physical beauty, cuteness, handsomeness, etc., in both males and females, yet have no interest in sex with the person. As strange as this sounds, in mentioning those I’ve consummated sex with, I never felt a sexual attraction to anyone --- until him.
It was not about sex. Still, I had no idea the whole affair would become a saga I never experienced. He's decades younger than me. At the time, I wasn’t privy to his age. I'm a terrible judge of age, weight, height, and distance.
Sammy’s overall features are by no means stunning, nor effeminate in appearance. A clean and well-proportioned male with piercing blue eyes, straight brown hair, and radiant white teeth, his typical attire is casual, neat, and appropriate.
I’ve never taken a survey, but I’ll venture most individuals consider him to be average or above in the looks department. Females describe him as “… a cutie.” Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, and in my eyes, he’s exquisite.
I found it fascinating he could sit for hours playing games on his phone. As time passed, I noticed others gravitated toward him. Male and female, almost all older. They said hello, exchanged brief chat, and followed with a half hug.
Most of them were regulars. I noticed people I had not seen before, but they knew him, and the same pattern acted out.
When these people congregated, the life of the party revolved around him, though he appeared far removed. Yes, he engaged in brief conversation. A member of his clique spoke a few words, and he said a few in return. He always returned to his phone game.
He preferred sitting with females. Of the regulars, they were older, mid-thirties and into the fifties. It’s as if a harem surrounded him.
And geez, can he drink! Pitchers of beer and shot after shot without showing