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The temerity of these children to think that they can watch Jerry without him being aware of every move they make is as amusing as it is irritating. Charley is not at all discreet as he peeks out his window. And he’s surely not thinking clearly if he didn’t realize Jerry would immediately know he was the one who called the cops. And he’s very, very dense if he thought for one second that it wouldn’t be obvious he was going to try something stupid as soon as he thought Jerry was gone.
Jerry parks at the end of the cul-de-sac and then swiftly returns home, creeping in through the back. The smell of Charley’s sweat and fear lingers in the doorway. The house is almost as dark and quiet as he left it; Charley is doing his best to be cautious, but Jerry can immediately sense him over at the foot of the stairs. His heart is hammering in his chest, and it pulses through Jerry, makes his teeth itch to descend. He crosses the short distance from the kitchen to the foyer silently, and takes just a second to admire Charley’s pale, frightened face craned up to try to pierce the shadows of the second floor before he grabs him from behind.
Charley yelps and struggles, but there’s no contest. It’s easy enough too for Jerry to pretend he hasn’t recognized Charley yet, to be a little rough like he’s caught a would-be burglar. Jerry gets one arm around his waist and uses the other to cradle Charley’s sweet, vulnerable throat in the crook of his elbow. Jerry’s pressed right up against him, and Charley’s quite obviously too freaked out to realize it just yet. It gives Jerry the opportunity to appreciate how warm he is, to snug his hips to the curve of Charley’s ass as his cock stiffens.
“What have we here?” Jerry murmurs darkly.
“Sorry! I was just-I was just,” Charley splutters, wriggling in Jerry’s arms, “Look it was just a stupid – I didn’t mean-” He’s panting harshly, hands coming up defensively to try to ease the pressure on his neck. He’s so alive and scared that Jerry’s having trouble controlling himself. He wants to bury his claws in Charley’s belly and feel how soft and wet he is there on the inside.
But he reigns it in and settles for lightly rubbing at Charley’s t-shirt right above his jeans instead. “Well,” he says, feigning surprised realization. “Looking for something, Charley?”
Charley hesitates and swallows. Jerry can feel it against his skin where he’s still pushing on Charley’s Adam’s apple. “What’d you do to her?” Charley says. Such a brave boy, Jerry thinks, even with his voice gone meek and shaky – so brave and foolish to come to his home and ask him a question like that.
Jerry tightens his hold and smirks. “Do I really need to explain that to you, guy?”
“Yes,” Charley snaps, and then almost immediately, the words shriveling into a whisper, “No, I mean, not that – but where’s Doris?”
Jerry leans in closer, feels all the fine tremors running up and down Charley’s body, and butts his head gently against Charley’s temple. “We both got what we wanted; we were done, and she went home.” Charley’s so, so tense. It makes Jerry want to touch him more, to see exactly how wound up he can get.
“No, I—” Charley stops, realizing he’s said too much. His pulse increases. It makes Jerry feel almost a little drunk, high on the extremity of Charley’s emotions.
Jerry smiles. It’s funny when they make it easy for him. “Were you watching?” he asks like a concerned parent. He’s always loved a challenge, but after four hundred years he often has to make his own; humans are so simple and immortality can be so dull. He sees it all laid out before him – he could have Charley in every way possible, and there’s nothing Charley could do about it, but that would be so predictable, so crude. While most of the time Jerry sees no reason not to act on every instinct, to take whatever or whomever he wants, he’s so used to people being willfully blind to his existence that first Ed, and now Charley—this is quite a novelty for him. He hasn’t decided exactly what he’s going to do with Charley in the long run, but the anticipation smolders in his stomach, the knowledge that this boy’s going to be his – he wants to make it memorable somehow.
So even though Jerry has him here, he’s not going to kill him, not going to bite him yet, not going to use any of his influence to keep him under his sway, and he knows that will only make it all the sweeter when he finally does rip Charley’s throat open and paints himself in the boy’s blood.
“Were you trying to watch me give it to Doris?” he says, his tone low with dark insinuation. “Wanted to see how a real man does it, huh?” He’s loosened his grip on Charley’s throat so his arm is now a band across Charley’s shoulders. Charley’s still clinging to his forearm, though he’s no longer trying to pull away. The scent curling off of him is exquisite. ‘Neglect,’ he’d called it, when what he really meant was ‘needy little boy who could use someone to take him properly in hand.’
Charley shakes his head frantically. It’s subtle, but he’s rounding his shoulders, pushing the curve of his spine up against Jerry’s chest—survival instincts at play, a submissive appeal to an alpha.
Jerry can’t help but respond to the gesture, however unconscious it is, with a slight adjustment until, really, he’s got Charley in a hug more than anything else. He’s still far from done tormenting him, though, so he noses right above Charley’s ear and says, “No? Well maybe we should go over and see what Jane thinks of all this.” Charley’s quivering. He’s clearly not sure what to do with his hands, but he keeps his head down like he knows not to bare his throat to Jerry, and that’s—oh, that’s good. “We’ll have a heart-to-heart about this,” Jerry continues, practically crooning, “and then she’ll break down and tell me all about how hard it’s been raising you alone, and I’ll offer her a shoulder to cry on, and, well, you know how that goes…” He pauses, lets the air get heavy, and then, “You better get used to the idea of me being your new daddy.”
The noise that comes out of Charley’s mouth is mostly horrified, but a little like hysterical laughter too. He’s gone back to squirming. “My mom would never go for you,” Charley hisses. Jerry enjoys the futile struggle, enjoys the way Charley’s inadvertently rubbing against him, getting him more turned on.
He chuckles, keeping his grip deceivingly loose to make it all the more frustrating for Charley that he can’t break free. “What’s the matter, Charley? Got a little bit of an Oedipal complex? Or maybe you’re a little jealous? It’s okay, you’re pretty too.” He kisses Charley’s cheek with a soft smack at that. Charley freezes. Sure that he’s listening closely, Jerry says, serious now, “You’re really kidding yourself, guy, if you think your mom’s not hot for me, but I’ll give you a choice: I can either drag you back home, where Jane is sure to invite me in, or we can go upstairs and talk about this like adults.”
“Let go of me,” Charley says, his voice flat and grim. He’s maybe even more enticing now that he’s mad.
“Okay,” Jerry smiles easily, immediately releasing him. Charley turns and takes a step back, but before he can get any farther, Jerry grasps his shoulders. He tips his head until Charley reluctantly meets his eyes. “It’s time for you to be a man, Charley” Jerry says. “You broke into my house, you got caught, and now you need to face up to it.” He likes the spark of resentment that gets him, temporarily burning through Charley’s fear. This whole game has already been pushing Jerry’s buttons, but it’s that look that makes him move his hands up to Charley’s face and pull him into a kiss.
The thing about Charley is that while most boys his age have this stench of perpetual horniness clinging to them, with him it’s something more refined. Jerry’s had centuries to sharpen his senses, and the waves Charley puts off are all about inviting another person in. And then, because he’s still a child, he’s shocked when anyone takes him up on it, so insecure that he’s stunned stupid as Jerry licks slowly into his mouth.
For a moment it’s just Charley accepting with perfect passivity. Jerry coaxes his mouth open a little wider and deepens the kiss, his thumbs stroking either side of his jaw. Then Charley makes a distressed sound and he tries to arch his head away, but he’s also—poor sex-deprived teen that he is—humping his hips against Jerry’s thigh with tiny, spasmodic jerks.
When Jerry pulls away Charley’s mouth is red and wet with spit. For a second all Jerry can think about is how it looks like that plump bottom lip would burst like a runny egg yolk with just the right amount of pressure. Jerry smirks at the thought and fits his hand around the bulge of Charley’s crotch. He rubs him through the denim and Charley reflexively grabs his biceps, alternately pushing at him and squeezing tighter. “Oh God, oh fuck,” Charley breathes. Jerry can smell how petrified he is, but his cock is so hard under Jerry’s hand. Jerry himself is so keyed up on this kid that he can feel—practically see in his mind how the arteries are dilating, filling and swelling his dick up with blood. Jerry’s pretty much drooling at the pretty mental picture, but all he does his touch his mouth to Charley’s neck and lave his tongue against the pulse point there.
Charley ducks and nudges Jerry’s face up so they’re kissing again. It makes something like amused affection curl through him because his boy’s smart to try to keep him away from his throat without fighting him – not that he could do anything about it if Jerry did decide he was done playing, but he still gets points for effort. He’s maybe a little too enthusiastic about demonstrating his approval, or Charley really is just that desperate, because when he tightens his fingers around the outline of Charley’s dick Charley’s face scrunches up and he gasps, “Shit,”
Jerry stills to forestall any premature ejaculation interrupting his fun, but keeps his hand on Charley’s crotch so reason is firmly tilted in his favor. Charley blinks up at him, eyes gone a little glassy, practically vibrating with how ready he is to come. “Go upstairs,” Jerry says, using his palm against Charley’s groin to push him back a step towards the staircase. He watches it war in Charley’s face, and it’s – Jerry is sure that as much as it’s his desire, it’s also partly the stubborn, misguided belief that he can still be a hero that makes him grimace and do what he’s told.
He stumbles up the steps, so nervous that Jerry has to catch him when he almost slips and all but frog-march him into the little-used bedroom. He’s blathering the whole time about how he should go home – he’s got homework, and it’s a school night; Jerry ignores him and then kisses him again to shut him up. The inside of his mouth is so very warm, and he’s a bit more pliable now, more responsive. Jerry can feel the frantic beating of Charley’s heart all the way down to his bones.
“Okay, Charley,” he says hoarsely, tugging Charley’s hand to his cock, “Time to pay the piper.” Charley’s eyes dart up to his face, big and startled. When Jerry lets his wrist go Charley squeezes him gently, curious and reluctant both, and isn’t that a delicious combination.
“I don’t-I’m not—” he breathes, barely audible.
Jerry puts a heavy hand on the back of his neck and rests their foreheads together. He uses his free hand to slowly and deliberately undo the button of his jeans and slide the zipper down. Charley stares, entranced. The look of fear he gets when he realizes that Jerry doesn’t have anything on under his pants is a rush. His fingers twitch, but he doesn’t resist when Jerry guides him to his dick, just licks his lips and exhales shakily when he’s touching Jerry’s bare skin. “But you’re going to, aren’t you?” Jerry says, practically cajoling, even though the warm, slightly sticky palm around him makes him want to be anything but patient.
Grim determination suddenly flashes across Charley’s face, and then his hand is gripping Jerry too tight, and his knee rams up into his balls. Even with his lesser strength it makes Jerry double over, in so much pain that his face twists demonically. Luckily, Charley misses that because he’s already taken off down the hall.
As intense as the pain is, it’s still only fleeting. Jerry’s old enough that that kind of superficial damage heals almost instantly. Poor Charley is clattering down the steps, probably telling himself that if he can just make it to his house that he’s safe as soon as he’s inside. Jerry lets him get to the bottom of the stairs, lets him see the front door and have that tiny scrap of hope before he grabs him, slings him over his shoulder, and carries him kicking and flailing back upstairs.
“The fuck?” Charley spits, beating his fists against Jerry’s back.
If Charley wants to change the game, Jerry can play this too. It is perhaps more rote, but still has its considerable pleasures. He calmly deposits Charley onto the bed facing away from him, one hand closing around both of the boy’s thin wrists. He whips his belt from his jeans, which are still hanging loose and open, and uses it to bind Charley’s hands. After mulling it over briefly, Jerry decides not to gag him, but he does take off his t-shirt to use as a makeshift blindfold because when the time comes, Jerry wants Charley to know he wasn’t under any spell. Charley makes a frightened noise when his eyes are covered. “I wish this wasn’t necessary, buddy,” Jerry says, ruffling his hair, “but you’re just not willing to listen to reason.”
Charley makes a futile attempt to kick free. Jerry shakes his head ruefully and moves to the side of the bed, yanking Charley’s legs around until he’s seated on the edge of the mattress. Jerry leans over him and clamps down on his thighs with a bruising grip, “See Charley,” he says, “I’m not an animal. Whatever you think I am, whatever you think I did to Doris– I could do it to you right now and you’d be helpless, kiddo.” He pauses and strokes Charley’s cheek. Charley jerks his head away, but Jerry just rubs his shoulder instead. “But that’s not what I’m about, and that’s not what either of us has to get out of tonight.” He palms Charley’s crotch and Charley squeaks, his hips jerking up and his erection rapidly returning. Teenagers, Jerry thinks fondly.
Charley has no idea, or maybe he does—a little sliver of one, but Jerry’s hall of rooms is right there if he wanted to stick Charley in one and drain him slowly, really take his time at it. Or, he could drag Charley to the basement and let him meet the family, give Adam and Ed a little present. If only Charley knew how lucky he was, how grateful he should be.
“I know what you want,” Jerry whispers against Charley’s lips. He sees exactly when Charley realizes he’s being offered an out. His heart thuds and his mouth twists, but the scent of his arousal, dirty and heady, doesn’t weaken. He wants—Jerry can practically taste how bad Charley wants to ask if Jerry’s going to kill him, but he’s also clever enough to recognize he’s supposed to keep up the pretense of not knowing anything, so he just has to wait and see. As much as Jerry’s a fan of old-fashioned torture, this is pretty good too.
“This is so fucked,” Charley moans, but he leans in and kisses Jerry, capitulating so prettily. That, and the fact that Charley is still terrified with the whisper of what Jerry really is already tickling at the back of his mind, when so many don’t know to be scared until it’s too late - it doesn’t make Jerry want his blood any less, but it quiets something in him, changes the game yet again.
He pushes Charley down onto his back and crawls on top of him. Charley frowns at the discomfort of his arms trapped beneath him and tries to roll over, but Jerry pins him easily. “Yeah, could tell right away you were dying for it,” Jerry murmurs smugly. He’s had countless sweet young things over the years, boys and girls who were dizzy with newfound sexual power, who thought they’d already tasted everything life had to offer and knew what they wanted, but Charley is fresh, untouched, a flavor Jerry doesn’t help himself to all that often anymore-not like this anyway, not usually for anything more than a meal.
“Shut up,” Charley snaps, his face red. He’s straining to rub himself against Jerry’s hip, looking absolutely furious about how turned on he is. There’s something so ludicrous about Charley ordering him to do anything while bound and blind that it's immensely entertaining. Jerry slithers down the bed and takes off Charley’s absurdly expensive sneakers, and then strips him completely below the waist. He leaves the rest, liking the particularly debauched picture it makes, though he does ruck Charley’s shirt up so he can lick his stomach. There’s so much skin for him to touch, and Charley’s being good now, though he’s still very much on edge, head craned up to try and gauge what Jerry’s going to do next even though he can’t see.
Jerry licks the crease of his pelvis, tasting the salty fear on Charley’s skin. The overwhelmingly human scent of him has Jerry nuzzling against his cock, wanting to feel the heat against his cheek. Charley’s head falls back and he makes a series of bitten-off noises. Jerry moves on though, paying special attention to the femoral artery. If he just tore him open right there, the blood would come gushing out faster than he could even swallow. It would fill him up completely, sate all his hunger. He wonders if Charley knows his anatomy, or if his head’s gotten too cloudy for him to notice exactly where Jerry’s mouth is. Admiring all the pale skin he’s got to play with, Jerry decides he’s going to mark him for the stunt he pulled earlier and he pushes Charley’s legs farther apart. He picks a spot on Charley’s inner thigh and sucks there, hard. He can feel the capillaries bursting, blood building up beneath the surface, but he doesn’t break the skin.
Charley kicks helplessly against the sharp sting of it. “Oh fucking - Jesus,” he whimpers, “Shit, are you giving me a hickey?”
Jerry rumbles, amused, and presses two vicious fingers against the new bruise, making Charley keen and causing more blood to pool under the skin. “Is that what the kids are calling it?” he responds, sarcastic. Before he turns him (and that’s swiftly becoming a when, not an if), Jerry’s going to brand him – give him a mark that will never heal, somewhere nice and obvious where he wouldn’t need a mirror to see it and, yeah, he likes that plan.
He glances up to see that Charley is rubbing his face against the pillow, trying to dislodge the blindfold. “Uh uh,” Jerry admonishes and rolls over, bringing Charley up to sit straddled over his lap. The lean muscles in Charley’s thighs clench as he’s thrown off balance. The new position gives Jerry a nice view of Charley’s cock curved up against his belly, and of his throat—two obscene slashes of flesh compared to his still-covered chest and arms. He ruts his own erection up against Charley’s ass. Charley winces as the open zipper of Jerry’s jeans catches his skin, but Jerry’s got him firmly by the hips and just tilts him slightly for a better angle, his cock riding smoothly against the cleft of his buttocks. Charley’s body doesn’t seem to know how to react to that, straining away even as his dick twitches enticingly and his cheeks go bright red—a stunned virgin sort of response. Jerry grins.
“Tell me what’s going to happen here, Charley,” he says, his voice low. He adjusts his hold on Charley again so he can reach around with one hand and thumb the head of his cock right against Charley’s entrance.
“What?” Charley stutters, jerking forward as much as Jerry’s grip allows.
Jerry strokes with his thumb, feels the tiny hole try to clench closed. “Tell me what we’re going to do now,” he repeats.
Charley goes tense all over, silent for a long moment, until Jerry presses the tip of his finger in as a warning. “I can’t” he whines then, anguished.
“Gonna be your first, isn’t that right? Huh, guy?” Jerry prompts, his tone getting firmer. That sets off another round of writhing. He has to know he’s no match for Jerry at this point, and with his eyes covered he really has no idea what he’s doing. “I’m going to be your first because I can see how ready you are,” he continues, bringing his hand around to touch Charley’s dick, give it a few encouraging strokes from base to tip that make Charley start panting and precum leak out over his knuckles. God, Jerry hasn’t played with his food like this in decades. He’s so caught up in it that his hands shift into talons without his intention. It makes him feel even more like he’s got some tender prey in his clutches.
He reaches behind Charley again and scratches a clawed nail threateningly right under his tailbone, then more carefully at the rim of his hole and feels Charley try to hitch away, smells his fear spike as he quavers, “Don’t.” Jerry wonders if he can picture what it looks like—if he knows something’s not right about the touch.
“No?” he says in mock surprise. “You that anxious for my cock? All ready for it?” Despite the shield of the blindfold, Charley still turns his head away, embarrassed. Jerry likes that; he’s going to miss it when it’s gone. He digs the nail in just a little to see Charley flinch. The hurt noise that the boy makes is a pleasant bonus, so sweet that Jerry knocks him over and has him on his knees so fast that Charley doesn’t even time to gasp, his shoulders thumping down on the mattress, mouth open and gaping as he tries to catch his breath. Jerry doesn’t give him a chance, just spreads his cheeks and presses his face between them. It’s not his blood – and it’s so hard, so hard not to bite when there’s a feast in front of him like this (there’s time for that later, he tells himself), but the taste of him there is still intoxicating – sweaty fear and dirty human boy. Charley’s making sounds like a wounded animal, panicked and helpless, but oh, he’s so turned on by this; it assails all of Jerry’s senses.
There are a few tears tracking down from under the shirt over Charley’s eyes, and his trapped hands are flexing, reaching at nothing. Jerry takes his time taking Charley apart, licks until his rim is damp and loosened enough that he can get one blunt, dry human finger inside him, and then he drags down a little and keeps licking, trying to push his tongue in. Charley is so tight, so very untried, but Jerry has the advantage of knowing exactly how to apply his strength to wear that ring of muscle out so he can get a second finger in, and how to make the stretching good so that Charley will ache for what comes next.
Jerry’s so ready to fuck him, and he knows a boy like Charley doesn’t really want a choice in this situation, wants to be overwhelmed so it just has to happen (which is why he hasn’t sealed the deal with his girlfriend yet, Jerry is sure). And even though Jerry can give him that, he still doesn’t want to make it too easy for him. He sits up and gropes at the nightstand for lube with his free hand and then leisurely strokes himself slick. “What do you want” he asks, two fingers still thrusting smoothly. Each time they push in Charley’s back arches and his hands clench into fists. Jerry pauses with his fingers right against Charley’s prostate and nudges there.
Charley bites his lip. “Untie me?” he says unsteadily.
Jerry chuckles. “Try again, kiddo.” He slides his fingers out. Goosebumps prickle Charley’s skin, and his hole flexes, spit-shiny and suddenly empty. Jerry can’t resist pressing his tongue flat there and licking a broad stripe.
“Let me come,” Charley chokes out like it’s killing him
“I will, Charley,” Jerry soothes, fingers briefly dipping back in, “but I’m also going to fuck you like a bitch; I think that’s fair, don’t you?” Charley nods obediently with his face hidden in the bedding, but Jerry doesn’t want to give him that escape, so he stretches back out and brings Charley up on his lap again. He pushes Charley to kneel up, then kicks his own jeans off and plants his feet on the mattress and steadies his dick. “Glad we’re agreed,” he smirks, and starts pushing inside. Once the head’s in, he keeps one hand on Charley’s hip to help work him down. He puts the other on Charley’s throat and squeezes to muffle the noises Charley wants to make at the discomfort. Jerry can feel his heartbeat, the veins that are so close to the surface, and how easy it’d be to crush his windpipe and snap his neck. He reminds himself he’s got Doris to snack on, that no matter how tempting it is he doesn’t need to feed right now. Charley falls forward, gasping and coughing, and Jerry hooks a figure around the knot at his wrists and pulls his arms back to keep him firmly seated on his dick.
The feel of him around Jerry’s cock is exhilarating—Charley’s pulse is so strong here and there’s so much heat gripping him. It’s not nearly as hard or rough as it could be in this position, but that’s okay—it’s still good to hold Charley up and fuck into him, exactly on the line of how much this skinny boy can take. Even with his eyes hidden, Jerry can tell how tortured his expression is. He likes that, just like he likes knowing he’s taking something from Charley. It doesn’t seem like something that should quicken him anymore—this clichéd deflowering of a virgin, but it’s the most intense he’s felt about sex in ages—and from just the feeling of owning this kid.
Jerry laughs hoarsely when Charley starts trying to grind back, to move with him even though he’s still sniffling a little bit. “Yeah, take it,” he grunts, lengthening out the thrusts, making Charley hitch and clench with each firm rub over his prostate. He takes Charley’s cock in hand, tracing the veins along the shaft appreciatively, and then jerking him off until Charley cries out and shoots. Jerry licks some of it off his hand. The taste of Charley’s reluctance is there, twinned intimately with Jerry’s own victory.
Charley goes slack, all wrung out. His muscles are still pulsing weakly around Jerry’s cock, but it’s so much easier to slam into him now. Jerry comes inside of him, and it’s the moment where he should surge up and sink his teeth into Charley’s throat, but all he does is bury himself balls deep and let Charley milk his orgasm out of him.
He pushes Charley off of him when he’s done. Anger rips through him because he’s not fully satisfied; it’s not really finished—Charley’s still alive, Jerry hasn’t fed, hasn’t tasted everything he has to give. He’s sure his eyes have gone completely black and his mouth is dry with how desperate he is to drink from Charley, but he’s also not ready for it to be over. Charley curls in on himself on the bed, the smell of fear overtaking everything else again.
Jerry stands and pulls his pants back on and then goes down to the kitchen to get himself back under control. He grabs one of the beers Charley gave him earlier, and after a couple minutes, goes back upstairs where he finds that Charley has managed to get himself up onto his knees.
“Jerry?” he whispers uncertainly, cocking his head towards the doorway. Jerry considers the boy for a moment. He’s flushed so sweet all over, still blind and now reeking of the drying semen he’d stained his shirt with. Jerry wants to put him on his stomach and eat him out again, wants to see his cum dripping out of that stretched hole. He wants to tear Charley’s heart out and eat it, or dig out his eyeballs and pop them in his mouth like grapes, and he could—he could do anything he wanted; he could keep Charley here forever, but instead he just goes over and cups Charley’s chin in his hand and tips the bottle to his lips and gives the boy a few mouthfuls of beer. Charley struggles to swallow, sputtering a little. Because—because Jerry’s learned that sometimes delaying gratification is worth it, that it sometimes helps the time pass, and when the outcome is already determined, why not?
He hauls Charley off the bed and sets him on his feet and then pulls the makeshift blindfold free. Despite the dimness of the room Charley still winces and blinks rapidly at the sudden change. He focuses his eyes somewhere in the vicinity of Jerry’s sternum, looking like he wants to be held, but also like he wants to run.
Jerry unties Charley’s wrists, but keeps them pinned behind his back. “Look at me,” he says. Charley does, peering up from under his lashes. He seems like he’s in disbelief, maybe, that he’s still alive. “You’re going to go home now,” Jerry murmurs, only now letting a little bit of the thrall out, “and you’re not going to tell anyone about this, are you, guy? Because you love your mom and your little girlfriend, and you’re their only protection?” Charley’s eyes go watery with anger and hurt. “And because you wanted it, and you liked it” Jerry adds, and Charley’s expression flutters. He nods hesitantly and Jerry leads him by the arm to the front door.
He gives a cheerful wave as Charley trips over his feet down the step to the yard and then walks stiffly across the short distance back to his house. “Have a good night, sport,” he calls, “come visit anytime.” Charley glances back at him once before he disappears inside, and he looks so lost that Jerry just has to grin. He closes the door and heads back upstairs. He’s worked up quite an appetite.