Sander said. "Because we all can see that you're not
yourself. You've been different to the family, and you even
yelled at Johnnie when he took you to the store..." Jannik
dissolved into deep sobs and jumped up and hugged me
tightly, crying into my shoulder. At the moment he was
inconsolable. Sander met my eyes and nodded, indicating
that we should just let him cry himself out.
"I'm so sorry Johnnie... I never want you angry with
me! I won't do it again!"
"No worries, Superman. It's not even a thought. I
love you so much, Jan. You know that."
That triggered another wave, but now it was all out
in the open and now the only way to go was up.
Sander stood behind his brother and gently placed
his hands on his shoulders. The tenderness between the
two of them was to be envied. No two brothers loved and
cared for each other like the Hansen boys. And despite
their current age difference, they were best friends. In ten
years time it will be beautiful to see what their relationship
grows into.
"Jannik Mads, we have an idea if you'll think about
it. Do you want to hear?" Pokey asked. Jannik replied by
reaching for Sander's hand and squeezing it tightly.
"There's a lady that we've talked with who can
make things better. She wants to help you, and we'd love if
you would see what she has to say," Sander explained.
"Will you go see her?"
"Is she another psycho, like the one you and me
goes to sometimes, Pokey? Does it help you from when—
you know..." Jannik asked, referring to Sander's many
sessions after his failed attempt to take his own life.
"Psychologist. She's a doctor who knows how to
make things good again for you," I said. "And she's very
nice, just like the one you went with me to see."
"Am I crazy, guys? Do I lose my brains?"
"No! No way, man! Your more sane than any of us.
Smarter, too! But what happens when our car acts funny
and doesn't run so good?" Sander asked.
"You fix it." Jannik replied.
"So, it's just like that." I said. "You just need a little
tune-up to get things back to how they should be. That's
all."
Jannik collected himself, wiping the tears away
with the back of his hand. After a little bit of silence, the
hustle of the Market was broken by Jannik's determined
decision.
"I will do it, boys. Anything that will help get rid of
this, I will do. Happy."
Hope filled the rest of the day, as well as on the
ride home. When we pulled in the drive, a figure stood in
the pasture, transfixed by a setting sun playing with the
high cirrus clouds coming in from the Baltic. It was
Torben, so alone in his thoughts. The direction the clouds
were arriving from indicated that a major change in the
weather was on deck. I didn't mention it to my family, but
I saw it as an omen. I could only hope it was a good one.
Chapter 15
t took three weeks before an appointment opened
up at the clinic, but when one finally did we got
I Jannik there right on time.
He'd asked that we not tell his mom and dad until
he had a chance to gauge the whole thing. While there's
really no stigma in Denmark concerning matters of mental
health—the people view going to a shrink as no different
than seeing another kind of doctor if you have a broken
leg—still, Jannik was at the age where he felt defined by
what his peers at school and in the neighborhood thought
of him. Best he never give them any ammunition, he
reasoned.
Sander and I agreed to respect his request to a
point. Once we felt that this was the right course of action
to take, we'd decided to let Niels and Magda in on it, and
we would pass along Jannik's feelings about not letting
anyone else know his business. Neither of us thought that
would be an issue.
The Hansens raised great kids. They had always
allowed their children a great degree of self determination,
and they would know that whatever we would do with
Jannik, it would be what's best for him.
"What will she ask me?" Jannik wondered. "Will
she hook me up to a machine or something?"
"I don't think so," I told him. "I think she just wants
to talk with you and find out how you feel about things."
you can do that will help you," Sander added.
"Like what?"
"We'll find out, won't we, Cracker Jack?"
"Will you be there too?" Jannik asked.
"Maybe just for all of us to get to know each other,
but this is your meeting. This is for Jannik Mads Hansen
and nobody else," Sander said, as I stopped the car in the
overflow car park.
"You guys get out here and walk across the street to
her office, and I'll find a better place and meet you inside,"
I said.
The Hansen brothers hopped out, and my heart
swelled when Jannik took his big brother's hand. Their
sweetness showed by the gracious and natural way that
Sander allowed the boy the comfort of holding onto him.
He knew what a big event this was in his brother's life.
"HELLO, I'M JANNIK HANSEN and I am here to see the
doctor. She is called Helle Sørensen, and the time is now
that I have the appointment," Jannik stated with surety. "I
have my medical card and my person number if you need
these things.
"Is he your son?" the receptionist asked Sander.
Jannik burst out laughing and slapped his brother on the
back. "Hello, Daddy!" he joked.
"Uhmm, no. Uh, do I look old or something? he's
my little brother."
"I'm sorry!" she apologized. "It's just that—oh, I
guess it's been a long day."
"I saw there's an eye doctor next door if that will
help," Jannik teased. Sander bopped him on the head with
a knuckle and reminded him to be polite; he wasn't
helping the situation.
"You can't blame me," Jannik said as they sat down
on the rigid sofa. "I'm crazy, remember? I can't be held in
any trouble for my actions."
"You have it all figured out, don't you Mr.
Hansen?" Sander smiled. "But just remember, I'm the one
who says if we go to get a pizza to take home afterwards."
"Yes sir."
The extremely loud clock on the wall above their
heads gave off a particularly annoying combination of
ticking, along with an underlying hum. Jannik stared
straight ahead at the tropical fish loping about the office
aquarium.
"Uh oh," Jannik said under his breath.
"What is it?"
"You know that time I was at your confirmation at
the church, and I started to laugh and I couldn't stop?
"Yes. And you'd better stop. This isn't funny. You
can't laugh here," Sander told him. "I mean it."
First came the shaking shoulders moving up and
down. Then the kid looked at the w
all to his left, a septic
yellowish color that was about as appealing as the droopy
fern plopped onto the children's play table in the opposite
corner, Legos covered in eight layers of grubby hands and
kid spit. A Thomas the Tank Engine had been jammed rear
first into the planter. He was going to lose it any second.
"Stop it! I mean it!" Sander hissed.
"The more—that you—" His belly hurt, he was
trying so hard to curb the laughter building up inside of
him.
"Jannik!"
"I'm—fuck! I'm trying, but you don't make it easy!
Where's Johnnie?—I think he parked the car in France..."
he said, the laughter poised to erupt at any second,
"...where they don't wear underpants!" And that was the
camel's straw. Both broke out in peals of laughter, which
proved very embarrassing, I was later told.
"What's so funny?" I asked upon entering the
waiting room. They just shook their heads and tried to
shush themselves. Thank goodness the doctor arrived
from her office to collect Jannik.
"I think you have to be Jannik," she said to him,
offering her hand to shake his. "Good grip there. And who
are these guys?" she asked.
"Never seen either of them. They both look like
trouble waiting to happen, I think," he grinned.
"I'm Sander Lars Hansen. I'm his brother. And this
is Johnnie Allen. He's my boyfriend."
"Helle Sørensen. Mind if I borrow Mister Jannik for
a little while?" she smiled. "Is that okay with you,
handsome?"
"Oh, yes. It's why I am here, so let's get the show on
the road, I think."
They disappeared down the hall and I took the seat
where Jannik sat. "He's nervous," I said. "It takes guts for a
little guy like him to do this."
"Yeah. I hope she helps him," Sander sighed.
"Did yours help you?"
"Oh yes. But I still have times that are not so good,
you know? Since we are together it doesn't happen so
much, but there are times that I wonder why...why
anything, yeah?"
"We all have our shit. That's for damn sure. But
same here; since I met you—and I'm going back to the
beginning, even before we became us—I've felt better.
More secure, anyway. Thing is, he doesn't have a Johnnie
or a Sander like we have each other, so it'll be different for
him," I said.
"What would have happened if we never found
each other?" Sander asked. "I can't even think of it."
"Don't think I haven't wondered that a million
times. I still think it's a miracle that I fly six-thousand miles
and get off the train at the wrong station, and stumble onto
the apartment listing for Emma's building, then meet
Emil—who's Georg's brother—who then brings you into
the picture. That kinda shit ain't by accident, Pokey. It just
can't be," I explained. "I think when you were born, and
when I was born, it was just a matter of time and we'd find
each other."
"I love you, tall man with yellow hair," Sander said,
giving my thigh an affectionate squeeze.
"I love you, Pokey Hansen, Man of My Dreams."
We sat shoulder to shoulder; soon our breathing
was in sync.
So, uh, here's the thing, and I've done personal
research on the subject on numerous occasions. And as a
result of this self-funded study, this is what I've
discovered. Horniness is a multi-step process that begins
the first instant that your mind jumps from whatever the
matter is at hand, to a quick jolt of erotic thought. Then
you immediately return to whatever the previous activity
is.
Maybe you're at work talking with the boss and—
zing! —horny thought. Then you're back in Limp Dick
Land
while
he
blathers
on
about
quarterly
whatchamafucks. Half an hour later: Zing! again! Then at
about the twenty minute mark. The seventeen minute
mark: There's another one! Zing! Until finally, for the final
six-and-a-half minutes—which ironically corresponds to
the length of your dick—you change course and take care
of business.
"Pokey?"
"Johnnie?"
"Uhmm... By any chance do you have to go use the
bathroom?"
"No, I already—" And the light bulb went off in his
very naughty noggin. "Come to think of it, I could use a
piss."
"Me too." And we both left the sofa in the direction
of the hallway men's room. The best bet was the disabled
one because it was a good-sized room and it had a lock on
the door.
"Darkroom?" Sander asked, kicking off his shoes
and yanking off his shirt.
"Fuck yeah!"
I switched off the light and it was a race to get
naked. I felt his warm body knock against mine, and his
already
hard
cock
brushed
against
my
thigh.
"Whoa! You're ready for action!" I whispered. Then
I dropped on my knees, my clothes and Sander's jacket as a
barrier against the frigid tile floor. Believe me when I say
that the floor was the only frigid thing in the room.
I breathed him in, my lips caressing his thick cock,
his warmth pressed against my face.
I massaged his ass and he took the cue to face fuck
me. I just held my mouth at the perfect height, my lips and
tongue as a barrier against my teeth, my mouth filled with
saliva, so he could make things happen the way he wanted
to. I would just be the still receptacle, providing him
immense pleasure as I got to feel him moving that
beautiful part of him in and out, in and out...
"Fuck, Johnnie! This is fucking great!" he
stammered, thrusting his heated cock faster and faster,
deeper, and then holding it in as long as he could stand it.
Then, as he would quickly pull back to begin another
thrust, I would tense my lips just the slightest so he would
feel a stronger pressure on the sensitive foreskin and
underside of his cock.
Fuck! .... Oh my God, how do you fucking do this? "
he whispered to me in extreme pleasure. "I don't want to
cum too quick, but..."
"Go ahead!" I spoke, then tapping his ass to
indicate that it was fine. He damn well didn't have to
always think about me. This was for him. Besides, I was
happy as could be, with his incredible cock working my
mouth while I furiously jacked my own stiff dick. I wasn't
too far away myself.
"Johnnie... My God, Johnnie... I'm gonna cum...
Sorry! I'm gonna cum!" he told me. I just nodded my head
without missing a beat.
My cock was ready to deliver as well, so all in all,
this little visit to the toilet was proving very productive.
My swimmers were ready to jump off the high dive, and
Sander's were already on their way. I could feel his cock
stiffen and pump, stiffen and pump, and then a moment
later my mouth and throat were filled with his wonderful
load. Once again, Sander Lars Hansen became a part of
me, and the itchy saltiness of him oozing down the back of
my throat was such a fucking turn-on that when I came, it
landed all over his kneecap.
"Aaaggghhh! Oh, fucking awesome!" I exclaimed,
as he quickly moved his knee to my face and neck, rubbing
my load all over me. The sweet/savory smell of our cum
was the signal that heartbeats would soon slow, and we'd
have to turn the light back on to find our clothes. But I've
got to say, for a less-than-ten-minute-quickie, this was one
fine notch on our sex belts!
"Close your eyes before I turn on the lights," I
warned him. "It's gonna be really bright after our cool little
darkroom!"
"Okay, Johnnie! I'm ready! Flick that fucker!"
Sander laughed. And I did. And, fuck, was it bright.
We gathered our clothes and wiped up the stray
swimmers, and did a quick onceover in the mirror for the
hair and the reddened cheeks, took a breath, and opened
the door.
"It's about fucking time, you perverts!" said the
gray-haired octogenarian gentleman planted in his
wheelchair. "I gotta go!!!"
"Oh, damn, we're so sorry, sir!" Sander declared.
"Can we help you at all?"
"You ain't getting a piece of this ass, kid! Clausen
don't swing that way!" he grumbled, as he bumped and
rolled himself into the bathroom. "Oh, for fuck's sake, it
smells like teen spirit in here! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! It's all you
kids ever wanna do! You never get enough!"
He let the door shut and made sure we heard the
slide and click of the door lock. "Go home, you cocksucks!"
We headed back to the waiting room with the
biggest grins ever, the two cocksucks doing all they could
to keep from busting out in some very inappropriate
laughter.
Chapter 16
annik shuffled uncomfortably in the black,
obviously IKEA sofa that was arranged diagonally
J across the center of Dr. Helle Sørensen's sparse
office.
Every wall, surface, the flooring, even the ceiling
was covered in a shade of flat, dead green. The kind of
green palette similar to what I term as Martha Stewart
Green. That ghastly, institutional green that is found
painted in places like the interior of school buses, mental