Adventures in the Bookstore: Mark Longstreet

All my life, the old mall had a bookstore in it. It was one of those little stores, but it still had most of the stuff I wanted. To be honest, though, as a kid, it was more a case of buying what I found than finding what I wanted. Still, it seemed like they always had some sci-fi/fantasy novel that looked good, and they carried the AD&D (Advanced Dungeons and Dragons) stuff.

It wasn’t until I was in my twenties that I realized what I was missing. On a trip to Dallas, I saw a huge bookstore and went in. Not only did they have a vast selection of books, but they had music. And they actually had more classical than rock.

Now, I’m a rock music fan. To be honest, I like the best of everything and even listen to a little rap now and again, but my preference is for rock. Still, classical music and Broadway can be great, and this store had as much or more of those than they did rock, and I was able to find things I’d never dreamed of (couldn’t afford them right then, but I found them, darn it!).

It wasn’t until late 1992, just in time for Christmas shopping, that one of the Big-Box Bookstores opened in Bransom (there are two major U.S. chains, but they’re the same thing in most ways, so we’ll avoid naming names). I loved that store.

I always carried some books at Magicat’s, but it was primarily a few of the D&D related novels and those that were either super-heroes or by major comic writers. Later, in 1995, when my space and budget both expanded incredibly, I put in a sci-fi/fantasy selection, and ended up with the largest selection of ‘genre’ books in town, but in 1992, I had to depend on the mall store.

When BBB (Big Box Bookstore) opened, I was in love. A lot of it was the atmosphere (it sure wasn’t the coffee shop, since I never bought anything there where they hadn’t burned the milk), but there were three specific reasons.

First, there was the selection. Even though I carried books, so could and did order anything I wanted, I didn’t know everything that was coming, which made it hard. It was by browsing around BBB that I discovered some of my favorite authors. And that’s just in the genre; there was even more in the stuff I didn‘t carry. I found tons of Sherlock Holmes novels that didn’t really sound like Holmes, if you had just seen the names in a list. There were also things that appealed to my more esoteric interests (like number theory and astro-physics), that I didn’t want to buy without browsing.

The second reason I loved the place was a little less high brow but really came back to their selection of books. They had sections for sexuality, homosexual studies, and photography.

The sexuality section didn’t interest me that much (at least not directly). It was almost all ‘straight’ stuff. While some of it was illustrated, the guys mostly looked like they were from porn flicks and had big builds and hairy chests—nothing at all like the smooth, slender, boyish guys I prefer.

The homosexual studies section didn’t have any illustrated books that I can remember, but it did have something besides ‘studies’—it had stories. I remember one book called something like First Times, which was just what it sounds like, and it kept me happy for a number of evenings.

The photography section, though… that was something special. I’m not sure when the internet really became open to the public, but I didn’t find it until late 1995, so it was still another three years after this place opened. While there were a lot of books about photography and how to do it, there were also collections of photographs. Most of them were just stuff, but I remember a book called Underworld by Kelly Klein. It was a collection of photographs of people in underclothes, but there were a few great pictures of boys in briefs. They also carried collections by Sally Mann and Robert Mapplethorpe, which had a few nude boys. They were incredible to me back then (they were also very expensive, even for someone who owned his own store). I didn’t buy many of them, but did get one or two. I’d often go in during the day, while it was slow, just so I could check a few of those out.

If the second reason I liked this store was a little pervy, the third reason was really bad. I learned about it almost accidentally, though.

I’d run into a young friend of mine named Craig. He was a regular at the comic store. He was in sixth grade at the time, but I think he was still eleven. He was in an advanced reading class and had to do a lot of book reports on top of his regular work. He’d talked to me and had already done a comic collection and a comic related novel, but now his teacher wanted him to do some other stuff. Since I knew his reading tastes and knew a lot of books, I was helping him find some books for future reports.

Craig and I were talking about the difference in The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings when he started looking a little antsy or bored. I finally asked if he was okay.

"Yeah, but I gotta take a leak."

"Good," I replied. "I do too, but I didn’t want to just leave you here. It’s back here, isn’t it?"

Craig and I put the books down and walked around the corner to the rest room.

The thing you have to know about this place is, they had a theme they liked and they stuck to it. Everything that wasn’t wood was dark green with a bit of white. Even in the bathroom, the upper part of the walls was white, and the lower parts were covered by a dark green tile.

When you walked into the men’s room, there was a zigzag turn for privacy, then the sinks. Next, was a small privacy partition and a urinal. Finally, there were two stalls: one was normal size and the last was a handicap stall with a baby changing station.

Craig stepped up to the urinal, and I went into the first stall. These didn’t have full walls but raised partitions that were bracketed to the walls, so there was a little space between partition and wall. I have to admit that I was curious, so I leaned forward, not really expecting to be able to have enough angle to see anything, and I was right. What I did have, though, with that shiny new dark green tile was a very good reflective surface.

Leaning forward, I saw that Craig already had his fly spread and was able to watch him pull the front of his briefs down. Because of the dark green tile, the color was a little off, and because the tiles weren’t huge, the image was broken by grout, but it was still a decent view, and since I was in a stall, I wasn’t having to worry about how obvious I was being.

Craig had a nice little hang. I wasn’t expecting much because he was only eleven and wasn’t close to five foot yet, but while his sac was still pretty tight up to his legs, his balls had definitely started to swell. That wasn’t what interested me most, though. His little peter was still as thin as any little boy’s, but it must have already been more than three inches long, even soft as he was. That’s a pretty unusual growth pattern, since most boys either start to fill out at the same time they start to lengthen or fill out first. Of course, I guess it’s possible that Craig had always been that long and was just going to have the option of a career in porn.



The sci-fi/fantasy section was just before the restrooms, so it was natural for me to spend a lot of time there. I didn’t hang out in the bathroom or stalk cute boys, but if I happened to notice a real cutie headed that way, I’d probably try to check him out. Along the way, I made an even more interesting discovery.

I wasn’t going after someone in particular this time but actually needed to relieve myself. There was an old guy at the urinal, and the handicapped stall was occupied, so I stepped into the center again. I had no desire to check to the left but tried looking to the right, just to see if it worked both ways. It did.

The guy in the other stall was pretty young, but definitely an adult, so probably college age. I couldn’t see all the details, but he was reasonably nice looking, though a little mature to be my type. It was also very easy to see that he was leaning back, holding a book in his left hand and doing wrist exercises with his right. I couldn’t help but watch the entire show, all the way through his fumbling the book down and grabbing a wad of toilet paper. I guess an explosive climax was too much to hope for.

Well, that kind of action was a lot rarer than seeing a cute kid taking a leak, but I did start to watch the sexuality section. If I saw a cute young guy sneaking a book out of there and heading towards the bathroom, I’d usually make time to follow.



That wasn’t the kind of action I caught one night in March of ‘94, though. This was the week before Spring Break started, and Steve was stuck home with a bout of tonsillitis. He was pretty much over it but obviously still pretty worn out from the high temperature, so I was letting him stay home one more day. On the other hand, he was growing a bit restless with the enforced bed rest, so I was trying to find a new book and some puzzles to keep him occupied.

I was browsing the mystery section, trying to remember which Sherlock Holmes novels Steve had read, when I glanced across the store and saw a real cutie at the audio books. The way the two sides of the store were laid out weren’t quite lined up, so I was a bit behind him. I wasn’t close enough to get a great look, but some things were obvious. He was wearing overalls, but with a long sleeved dress shirt, which was a pretty weird combination. He had thick, slightly long hair and was tall, but lean. He looked boyish, but between the angle and distance, I couldn’t get a good look at his face.

I was about to go back to my shopping when the kid did the shoplifter’s bop. He was standing close to the shelf, then suddenly his head jerked ninety degrees left, then ninety right, before picking something up from the shelf and walking away. As a retailer, I had little doubt what was going on. While I never mention this to the kids I catch, the biggest mistake most of them make is drawing attention to themselves while trying to make sure they’re not being watched.

There’s no question the boy was headed straight for the restroom, so I put down the book I’d already selected and followed him. I hung back just a bit, and when he turned the corner and went into the bathroom, I was able to catch the door, so he didn’t even know he wasn’t alone in there. I stood at the bend, right next to the door, and listened while he went into one of the stalls, then went around. He was in the handicapped stall, which had the baby changing station and a small trashcan for diapers.

I stooped down and saw he’d undone his overalls and had taken a seat. I stood there, wondering what the best thing to do now was. I could hear him ripping open the packaging, then heard a sound like he was skimming through the pages of a book. After a couple of minutes, I heard a little jingling that sounded like he must have been fastening his overalls, then the lid of the garbage can, and the door to the stall opened. The boy nearly jumped when he saw me.

"Oh! Um, hi."

"Hello," I replied.

He was a good looking kid, but very boyish, and I revised his age downwards to middle school from the high school student I’d been expecting.

Standing under the light, he was more a dark blond than brown, I think. His hair was parted vaguely on the right and hung down over his forehead. He had clear, pale skin, full red lips, and a straight nose. The light was behind him, so I couldn’t quite tell whether his eyes were blue or gray. His cheeks were a little too full for his build, and I was willing to bet they’d never been touched by a razor. In other words, he was every bit as cute as I’d first thought, and maybe a bit more.

"Excuse me," he said, as he edged past me. The entrance to the regular stall was perpendicular to the door to the handicapped stall, so the two of them and the wall made a little nook. As he tried to step past me I reached up and slid a finger into the strap of his overalls.

"Actually, son, I was wondering if you could explain something to me."

He looked nervous, but nodded, and didn’t resist as I pulled him back into the stall. I’m not sure why he didn’t yell or run. Maybe it was because I was acting official. Maybe it’s because I was wearing my regular work uniform of khaki slacks and a button down shirt, which only needed a tie and name badge for me to look like I worked there. Maybe it was just his guilty conscience. For whatever reason, he passively followed me back into the stall and went pale when I stepped to the garbage can.

"I was wondering if you could tell me how this," I said, pointing down as I flipped the lid up, "ended up in here and where the rest of it went."

The boy suddenly looked sick and defeated. He reached into his overalls and pulled out a couple of cassette tapes. He tried to hand them to me, but I wouldn’t take them.

"How old are you?"

"Twelve."

Wow. He was pretty good sized for twelve. He must have been at least 5’5", though he was fairly slender.

"I’d think a twelve-year old would know it’s wrong to steal."

He blushed. "I’m sorry."

"I’m sure you are…. Sorry you got caught, at least. Is that all you took?"

He nodded, so I asked him about the pages I’d heard rifling. He denied it. I didn’t really care. I was hoping for a chance to strip search him and maybe get a spanking story before I let him go. Fate intervened.

Before I could even suggest a search, the bathroom door opened again, and a voice said, "Mark?"

I gestured questioningly, and he nodded.

The door to the stall wasn’t closed, but had swung partway shut. I pushed it open.

"Is this yours?" I asked the man. The man had the same nose and lips as the boy, so it wasn’t hard to guess they were father and son. The man was a little taller than me, but much sturdier than his son, and pretty definitely older than me.

"What’s going on here?" he asked, obviously nonplussed at finding his son in a bathroom stall with a strange man, or maybe just at my nonchalance at being caught in that situation.

"Your son was just explaining to me how that," I said, pointing at the tape, "ended up tucked into his overalls."

The man suddenly looked upset. "Is that true, Mark?"

To his credit, the boy admitted it. I think he was more humiliated at being caught than anything.

The man turned back to me.

"My name’s James Longstreet. I guess you’ve already met my son," he added, gesturing at the boy. "Do you work here?"

"No, sir. My name’s Jack Wells. I own Magicat’s comics over by the university. I saw your son pick up that package and head back here. Owning my own store, I have experience at spotting shoplifters, and I was hoping to catch your son before he did anything and warn him off."

"Well, thank you for your concern. I guess we’ll have to go ahead and buy it now. Didn’t I tell you that you couldn’t get this right now, Mark?"

"But I wanted it for my trip next week, Dad," he protested. He winced a bit, so I think he might have understood how spoiled he sounded.

"Well, that’s not a concern anymore. I don’t think you’ll be going on the trip."

The boy’s eyes suddenly went wide and watery, and his face went pale. "But Dad…."

"Don’t even argue with me right now, Mark. We’re going to have to buy this now since you’ve opened it, and I don’t want to talk about it with you until I’ve had a chance to talk with your mother. In the meantime.…"

"Excuse me, Mr. Longstreet," I interrupted.

"Yes, sir," he replied, turning to me, and I explained about the other noise I’d heard.

"Did you take something else, Mark?

"No, sir," he said, trying to sound as piteous as possible.

His father turned back to me. "I don’t think he’d lie about it."

I shrugged but couldn’t help adding, "That’s true, but when you first walked in, you didn’t believe he’d be shoplifting, either."

"That’s true. Well, it’s easy enough to check. Get your overalls off, Mark."

"Here?"

"Here, now, and fast, young man."

Mark blushed an alarmingly bright shade of red, but started unfastening the straps, while his father turned to me.

"Mark’s my youngest son. I don’t know what came over him. He’s always been a great student and my best behaved. I had to spank him some when he was little, but that was just boy stuff. He hasn’t been in any real trouble in a while. Both his big brothers kept getting in trouble long past when they were his age, and they’ve both had quite a few sessions with my belt. I’ve never had to do that with Mark, but I think it’s obviously time he had a taste of it. Maybe I’ve been too easy with him."

Mark had been trying to lose himself in the mechanics of undressing, but when he heard that, I thought he was going to toss up. His mouth opened, but he was apparently too upset to say anything.

"Shirt too," his dad said, as he took the overalls from his son. He ran his hands through the pockets, then folded out the table on the baby changing station and dropped the overalls there. By the time he was finished, Mark was standing in just a pair of green and white checked boxers.

"There’s nothing here," James told me.

I knew I’d heard something, and honestly had a pretty good idea of what it had been, since I’d not seen Mark bring anything else back with him. I tried to look puzzled for a second, then held up a finger.

"I think I might know what it was."

I picked up the cassette box, opened it, removed the tape, then pulled out the ‘liner notes’ which were in a small book format. I ran my fingers along the edges, which made a distinct riffling sound, since the pages were rather small and tight.

"Did you look through this, Mark?"

He nodded, looking a bit relieved that we’d answered the question. His father nodded, then turned back to the boy, who looked at the ground, and I took the time to examine him.

His whole body was as smooth and clear and pale as his face, and it was lean, but just a little soft, suggesting his build owed more to genetics than exercise. Dad dropped the shirt on top of the overalls, then unbuckled his belt.

"You’re going to get plenty of this at home, but I want you to know exactly what’s coming so you can think about it while we’re paying for that tape with the money that was supposed to be for your trip. Drop your boxers and turn around."

Now Mark was staring at me in fear. "But, Dad…."

"If you didn’t want this to happen, you shouldn’t have tried to commit a crime. And get it straight, Mark; shoplifting is a crime. People can go to jail for it. Isn’t that right, Mr. Wells?"

"Yes, sir, it is," I affirmed, not adding that it had to be over fifty dollars to be more than a ticket. I saw no need to confuse the lesson that the boy was learning.

Under his father’s glare, Mark shoved his boxers down his thighs, almost to his knees. As soon as they were down, he threw his hands over his privates, quickly enough that I barely caught a glimpse, though not so quickly that I couldn’t tell he was definitely not a little boy.

"Now, turn around and put your hands on that wall."

Mark did as he was instructed, obviously a bit relieved to take his pride and joy off exhibit.

As soon as Mark was in position, his dad folded the belt over and cracked it down across the middle of his son’s cheeks. Mark shrieked as the belt smacked into his butt, then made a noise that might have been a mix between him sobbing and breathing fast and deep in an effort not to break down and cry. The line started paler than the surrounding buttocks, then blood rushed back in, painting it very red.

"That’s just so you know how it feels. You’re going to be getting a lot more of those when we get home. Now get dressed."

Mark took a second to rub, then bent over to retrieve his boxers, which had fallen to his ankles. His legs were spread a bit, so it was obvious his balls were loose and pretty well sized.

"Mark," his father said, in a slightly more congenial voice (meaning more like ice cold than arctic). The boy turned at the hips to face his father.

"I want you to know that I’m very upset with you right now and very disappointed in you, but I still love you. I know that hurts. I had more strappings from your grandpa than I’ve given both your brothers; but I’m going to do it to you because I love you and want to be sure you never do something like this again. Understand?"

The boy nodded. His eyes, which had been red and watery started to overflow and he turned the rest of the way, so he could lean into his father’s spread arms.

As he turned, I had a couple of seconds to see that the boy wasn’t very long, but his penis wasn’t as thin as the rest of him. He had a very loose circumcision, and the skin was just starting to darken, which seemed to match the few dark, curly hairs that were just starting to sprout above the base.



I did see Mark again. It must have been a few months later in the summer of ‘94 when I was at work in the comic store. I think I was working on a display when my part-timer called, "Jack, I’m on the phone. Can you show this guy where the Star Wars stuff is?"

"Sure," I assured him, standing and straightening. The customer in question must have seen me and already been coming over because he was right behind me when I turned. We were both quiet a minute.

"Hello, Mark. How are you?"

The poor kid’s eyes were wide and he’d gone even paler than normal before entering turbo-blush mode, but he finally managed to stammer out a reply. "Fine, thank you."

"Did you get to go on your trip?"

He licked his lips but finally nodded.

"Mom convinced Dad it was educational, but I had to pay for the tape out of my allowance so I’d have enough spending money. Dad didn’t let me keep it, though," he added, ruefully. He was quiet for a minute, then added, "We went to San Antonio and saw the Alamo and Sea World."

"Well, that must have been a good time. So, what can I do for you today? Star Wars?"

"Yeah, my aunt gave me a gift certificate for here. She said you have a lot of Star Wars stuff, and that there’s a new Dark Empire series."

"There sure is. C’mon, we have all that stuff on a display, right over here."

"Oh, Mark," I added over my shoulder, as he followed me in that direction, "you don’t mind if I search you before you go, do you?"

He nearly panicked before I smiled and assured him I was kidding.

Would you believe he turned into a regular customer and still comes in on a regular basis? But I never caught him shoplifting again.





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