The Making of a Gigolo [1] - Tilly Johnson

By Robert Lubrican

Bobby just went to return a book he had borrowed. The drain in the kitchen was plugged, and her husband was no plumber. So Bobby fixed that while he was there. Tilly's husband couldn't meet some of her other needs either, and Bobby saw to them too.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert Lubrican
• Release date: Mar 21, 2020

Robert Lubrican

I grew up in the fifties and sixties, and that is reflected in my books quite often. I spent twenty years in law enforcement, and traveled the world, which also can be seen in my books and stories. While the genre I write in is technically called erotic romance, what I actually write are stories with a plot, which include sexual behavior on the part of the characters. That is because most people's lives include sex and erotic gratification. And, since most people wonder about lifestyles that are sometimes called taboo, or forbidden, I write about them, occasionally too. I believe that two consenting adults know more about their own happiness than anyone else, and that even if they are mistaken, they have the right to make their own choices. I also believe that love is the key to making choices that will not turn out to be mistakes.Many of my ideas involve coming of age, which usually takes place in the early to mid teens. Publishing standards, however, require that all characters in the published version of the book be over 18. That's not realistic, but it's just the way things are. If you purchase one of my books and would like to have the original version, unedited for age, send a copy of your receipt to [e-mail] and I'll happily provide you with a copy of the original at no additional cost. It is not illegal to write or possess such versions. It's just unpopular with certain special interest groups who desire to restrict your freedom.

Book preview

Prologue

Bobby was two, in 1951, when his father went off to fight in a police action that would eventually be called the Korean war. Bobby didn't know that, of course. He was only two. He barely knew his name. Remembering Mamma was not a problem, because she was still there, on the farm, where they lived. Dada was a concept that grew mistier, and less firm, as months turned into years, and the face that went with that name also became misty and vague.

There was another male face, as time went on. He was called Joe by Mamma, and he had a big smile and strong hands. While Bobby didn't know why Joe was there, or from whence he came, Joe sometimes played with him, and told the most amazing stories.

Bobby had no way of knowing that Joe was one of the last of a dying breed of men who, in earlier years, had been called Hoboes. He went from farm to farm, looking for work, at least enough to entitle him to a meal, and perhaps, if he was lucky, a place to get out of the weather for the night. Bobby wouldn't have cared that Joe was nineteen years old, and had been classified as feeble-minded by the doctors who examined the thousands of recruits who were sent to a far off peninsula, where death stalked every street, valley and hill. Those doctors decided that Joe wasn't suitable for Army life, and turned him away. Bobby wouldn't have understood that when Joe's father died, in another far off place, across an ocean so vast that Bobby wouldn't have been able to conceive of it, Joe's mother had decided she was no longer able to care for him. She abandoned him at a train station, where he thought he was waiting to take a train to see his grandparents. Joe sat, not knowing which train to get on, until someone came and chased him away with a stick.

Joe's mother had taken him to the big city, where the train depot was, and, when he was chased away from there, he hid for a while, not knowing what to do. Knowing he was supposed to get on a train, he waited until night time, and climbed up into a car that was empty. When the train started up, he rode, until he was found, and beaten again, this time with fists and a short, black, flat thing that hurt a great deal when it hit his head.

That was how Joe ended up in the middle of the country, far away from his home on the Eastern Seaboard.

Joe, however, wasn't nearly as feeble-minded as the doctors had