Ambush

The following fictional story deals with sex among males. If you are offended by such material, are too young, or reside in an area where it is not allowed, depart. Though not observed in this story, care enough about yourself and humankind to practice safe sex.

The author retains all rights. No reproductions or links to other sites are allowed without the author's consent.

EBradley33@Excite.com

Chapter 14

Treasures, Triangles and Tribulations

Today was the day Susan, Troy and I were taking Jeremy shopping. Immediately after classes, the trio planned to pick me up for a trip to the big, trendy department store in the city's upscale mall. I had an account there, so I thought that would be a good place to start our shopping.

My eagerness for the trip owed not just to being in the company of three special people, not just to its being my first real outing since the accident, but chiefly to what the adventure could mean to Jeremy. I was hoping it would boost his self-esteem, pull him out of that negative stance he'd taken because he believed people looked down on him. He'd never heal until he let go of the burden of his past.

"Well, Evan, you ought to take a lesson out of your own mouth," that imperious interior voice observed. "Oh, it's back," I thought. "The first I've heard it since the accident. 'I'm doing much better,'" I defended myself.

The belief that Jeremy would break out of the past and develop rapidly as a stable, well-adjusted person had charged my thinking lately. The catalyst wouldn't be Jeremy's acquiring a wardrobe although that would help his self-image. The transformational effect would come from having three people who obviously cared a great deal for him working to present him at his best. ........ I putzed around the house, loading and running the dishwasher, doing laundry, making a grocery list, figuring out a harness system to drag the full laundry basket into my bed--and feeling more than a little ridiculous doing so--so that I could sit in a chair and fold the laundry. After putting the laundry away, I phoned Club Eleven to make loose reservations since I didn't know exactly what time our shopping would be completed. These activities were followed by what I was beginning to think of as "mental circuits" through the rooms, getting some exercise but actually using the time to think.

I remembered Robert's observation during the second ambush that the wrong kind of guy could hurt me 60 different ways. Then I started reliving my surrender to Tim, the pleasure of giving up power to the right man. How ironic: I believed maintaining control was the ultimate weapon against being hurt, but I had learned that surrendering control to the right person could lead to ultimate fulfillment and pleasure.

I had surrendered to Kenny and Robert through that amazing mythic dynamic in the Pride's relationships. The details of the ambush contributed some of the mythic energy, I supposed, but it arose chiefly from the three of us, from what we offered and gave up to each other in that special situation. Nothing mythic existed with Tim yet. While we had sealed a bond with each other, there didn't seem to be that much mythic in our relationship. But my surrender to Tim had been deeper. H-m-m-m-m-m. I needed to ponder the differences among the surrenders. However, my line of thought zipped down another avenue.

I had told my students that keeping the magic alive was a key to a successful relationship. Was there magic in Tim's and my relationship? Yes, but it was so newly formed that it was not what it was going to be. Certainly Tim's and my surrender to each other was probably out of the ordinary. What was the magic with Kenny and Robert? It surely had begun with Kenny's surrendering himself to Robert. But it included their ambushing me and my ready acceptance of roles that began forming during that first ambush. What did Robert contribute?"

"And what about Jeremy? He seemed painfully alone. I could almost feel his wanting connections, wanting to belong. Who deserved magic more than he?

Exercise completed, I thought perhaps I should nap a bit to prepare for the afternoon's and evening's outing. ........ The appointed hour arrived with Jeremy and Troy bursting through the door and Jeremy's warbling, "Oh Dad. Oh Pop, Prophet, Taskmaster! Your son's next to naked. Climb in the chariot so that we can clothe him at the nearest oasis. A camel caravan has just arrived. Even now its merchants are spreading finery on the desert sands. The matchmaker awaits but my receiving the proper duds before making a marriage proposition to the family of a beautiful virgin."

I heard Troy snicker. I crutched out into the living room. Looking at Troy, I asked, "What's he gotten high on?"

"I don't know," Troy replied. I saw him chewing on rubber he pulled off his Nikes."

"No, No. This is not a sneaker-sole high. I'm high on Papa Evan."

My brow wrinkled. Where was the "dad" stuff coming from? "I'm ready."

"Good," Jeremy said. "Another virgin awaits in the chariot." Troy blushed profusely. Jeremy looked at him. "Ooops," Jeremy said to Troy. "I should have known a man with your attributes would move fast." Troy's blush deepened--if that were possible.

"Son-n-n-n-n-n," I drew out the reference to shift the focus off poor Troy, "why don't you change your line of conversation before this poor boy keels over due to the blood rushing to his face. Let's try the weather."

"Oh, it's steamy, passionately steamy, creating a sheen of sweat over virile bodies twisting and sliding erotically over each other." Troy punched Jeremy in the arm. I laughed.

Jeremy looked at Troy. "Sorry, man. I'm just so excited. No one has ever done anything like this for me before. My parents never took me shopping for anything. Rarely, a pair of jeans or a pair or socks would show up lying on my bed. After that, it was Nikes at Christmas and maybe a shirt on my birthday. I think my dad thought that if they took me shopping, a lust for possessions would take me over, which he couldn't afford." Jeremy walked over and hugged Troy, who hugged him back.

We locked the front door and moved to the car where Susan was waiting in the back seat. I knew my place. As Troy helped me into the back seat, Susan and I said hello, passed that special look of understanding and esteem between us. The ride to the mall was filled with Jeremy's chatter. He was high on good feelings. I was loving every second of it.

Once in the department store's huge men's/young men's section, we got down to business. I started by observing to Jeremy, "I think it's time to leave the open-shirt-over-a-tee-with-jeans look at home for the evenings and weekends. Why don't you pick a dozen pullovers, five pairs of jeans and five pairs of Dockers for a slightly dressier look? Does this plan suit?" I asked Jeremy.

He looked a little dazed. "All that? I thought you meant a couple of pairs of jeans and shirts. Maybe some socks and briefs."

"If we are going to do it, let's do it right. Okay?"

"Cool."

"Then we need to look at a suit and a sport coat and a pair of slacks, some dress socks, shoes, ties, dress shirts, and underwear." I think the list boggled his mind, for he just stared back.

"I need to ask Susan's advice about the dress clothes, so why don't you and Troy head over there to the sports section, and we'll scout the dress clothes. Since you have more choices to make, we'll finish before you do, so we'll come over and join you. Okay?"

"It's a plan," Jeremy said.

As they walked off, Susan put her arm around my waist. "Now what's on your mind, Evan?"

"Funny, I didn't feel you reading my mind." Susan smiled in response. We started moving over to the racks of suits. "I was thinking that you, with your manifold network among the feminine pulchritude, could hook Jeremy up with a nice young woman."

"Oh, I know several right now who would be interested in dating Jeremy."

"I knew you wouldn't let us down. Susan, I don't want to run the show, but Jeremy may need a little jump-start. I probably don't need to tell you that he views himself as a second-class citizen. To make matters worse, he spends his time thinking about other people's seeing him this way. I think he would be more comfortable starting out and be less likely to overcompensate and flounder if he were to double-date with you and Troy, assuming that that's an agreeable situation to you two."

"Oh, that'd be fun. You and I have both noticed, Evan, that Jeremy and Troy are fast becoming buddies, close buddies. We'll set something up for this weekend."

"I'm glad you came along. I'm counting on your perspective when we choose these clothes. Let's keep an eye toward what will make Jeremy attractive to others, maybe even give him a classy look. Maybe you can arrange to get his hair cut so that it brings out his best features. It's rather looking like a mop now. If I suggest it, he will probably bridle at it. But if you suggest it, he'll follow you like a puppy dog. I'll pay for it, of course. No, on second thought, I'll just give him some money to have it done. Would it be a good idea to have it done before the date?"

Susan laughed. "Boy, Evan, you are throwing yourself into this remake of Jeremy."

"Is it too much?" I asked, concerned that I was overdoing it.

"No," she smiled. "It can't do anything more than what you originally planned: encourage Jeremy to take a new look at himself and his prospects.

We finally picked out an olive wool suit that Susan said would actually bring out the coloring in Jeremy's face and look good with his brown hair. I thought the classic navy blue blazer and banker's gray slacks would be an additional good choice. Susan picked out white, blue, and clay dress shirts with classy ties that would create a knockout look. I spotted a brown sport coat that would look great with the olive suit slacks. "Christmas, maybe," I thought.

Susan and I wandered over to Troy and Jeremy. I could tell Jeremy was looking at the price tags before he made his choices, so I stopped to finger some ties while I whispered what was happening to Susan. "I really want us to make him look great, Susan. So when we get to their choices, look at what's there and pull out what won't really look good on him. I don't want these choices run by the price tag."

She smiled. "Okay."

When we joined the fellas, Susan looked through the pile of pullovers they had made, looking up at Jeremy occasionally. Then she pulled out about five of them. "Let's look some more guys before we settle on these."

"Listen to her, man. Susan's great at this," Troy said to Jeremy.

Susan swung into action while Troy came over, put his arm around my waist, and gently eased me over so that I was leaning on him. I looked up at him. "Thanks, Troy."

There were those dimples smiling back at me. "I'm still your man, Evan."

As we watched, Susan picked out other pullovers, occasionally holding them up to Jeremy and studying them. His eyes were wide as he watched her work the clothing expertly. Then she picked up a pile and motioned for Jeremy to pick up the others and walked over to the chinos section, picking out slacks to go with the pullovers. Troy and I followed. At this point an attractive young sales associate asked if she could help us. She and Susan hit it off immediately, and they stated talking about what we wanted. We three men knew our places; we retreated into the background.

Finally, we had all the sports clothes, including new underwear, sleeping jams, and a bathrobe, piled up at a cash register. As it was all being rung up, I noticed Jeremy wandering over to a case of men's wristwatches and looking at them. As Susan, Troy and I visited, Jeremy ranged down the full case, came back to look at watches in one section, looked over at Troy, who joined him, looking down at a particular watch. Jeremy was pointing down, so I wandered over on my crutches. Jeremy straightened up when I came over.

"What are you looking at?"

"Oh, nothing," said Jeremy. I turned and looked at Susan. That's all it took. She called Jeremy over. As Troy started to go, I placed a hand on his arm. "Quick, which watch caught Jeremy's eye?"

Troy glanced at me. "That one." He'd pointed at a gold wristwatch, rather on the elegant side. "Troy, you and Susan lead Jeremy over to try on his dress clothes. I want to get that watch for a surprise gift." Without another word, he moved off. As the three of them moved away, I motioned to the young clerk to come over. "Please put this watch on my account, but put it in a small sack and give it to me. I don't want Jeremy to know I have purchased it."

Smiling, she agreed. After the final signing of all the charge slips, the young clerk invited us back. "This has been so much fun. I just wish I could see Jeremy in all his finery."

"Perhaps you shall," I said as I took my leave to join the others in the dress clothes section. Jeremy liked everything chosen. I watched him with delight as he caressed the sleeve of the wool suit. It suddenly occurred to me that he probably had never owned a suit. He tried on the clothes, which fit perfectly. Everything about him fit the sizes. I was amazed that fittings were unnecessary. Lucky guy! I always needed alterations. "It's because you're so short in the britches," observed that interior voice. I was becoming annoyed with it.

In no time at all, Troy, Jeremy, and Susan were loaded with sacks of clothing. Trekking off to the car, we put all the purchases in the trunk since dinner awaited us. We drove to Club Eleven. It was a wonderfully atmospheric restaurant catering to casual tastes, so it was just right for us that evening.

We had a wonderful meal. I could tell that Susan, Troy and Jeremy were drawing closer, becoming fast friends. "Jeremy, would you doing me a favor?" Susan asked.

"Name it," he said instantly.

"Would you go with me to a hair salon so that we could have a man I know look at your hair. With all these new clothes, I think a somewhat different cut would really do the clothes justice."

"What would it cost? I don't have a lot of money."

"It will cost what you have in your pocket. And I'll see that it's enough." I turned to Susan. "What will it cost?" They all laughed.

"My dad always gave me a kind of bowl cut. I knew it made me look dorky, but everybody thought I was a dork anyway," Jeremy explained.

Susan, Troy and I traded glances, all agreeing wordlessly that we were going to move Jeremy past that kind of thinking. "Several women of my acquaintance consider you cute, Jeremy," Susan responded. "Once you're sporting a new cut, they'll find you stunning." Jeremy looked surprised, wanting to believe Susan but not quite daring to do so. He'd believe once he saw himself in a mirror.

At one point, Jeremy excused himself to visit the restroom. While he was gone, Susan turned to Troy. "Let's ask Jeremy to double with us this weekend. I'd like to ask Melanie Simpson to be Jeremy's date."

Troy gazed at her, his eyes twinkling, dimples flashing. "Jeremy hasn't got a chance with you two planning his life." We made protesting noises. "Of course it's okay. And I know you two. You want ME to ask Jeremy to double. Was there a man more set up than poor Jeremy?" We all laughed.

Jeremy had no more than returned to the table when Troy asked, "Susan and I are having so much fun with you that we would like you and a date to double with us this Saturday night. How about it? You game?" Jeremy looked at me. I smiled encouragingly.

Shyly, he said, "I'm not dating now. I have no one to ask."

"Actually," Susan stepped in smoothly, "I wanted to fix up a friend of mine, Melanie Simpson, with a date. She's between men now. You would be helping us out, Jeremy, because she's a good friend of ours."

"She's special, man," Troy chimed in.

Jeremy thought a minute. "Well, I could try out some of these new clothes, I guess. What do I do if she swoons the moment she sees me all decked out?"

"Thank your lucky stars," Troy observed dryly.

Jeremy stuck his tongue out at Troy.

"Okay. I guess I can help you out." Susan, Troy and I smiled quietly at each other. Master plotters, we!

We had finished dinner, I'd paid the bill, and we were making our way in leisurely fashion across the Club Eleven parking lot. I was bringing up the rear since I was feeling a little washed out. I wasn't used to being on my feet as much as I had been the last several hours. But I was alive! It had been fun watching Jeremy's eyes grow bigger and bigger. I heard giggling up ahead. The group had stopped, looking off to its left. As I joined them, I looked left too. Sitting the front seat of a parked car, a senior, Lisa Wemberley, was in a tight clinch with a fellow. Lisa was a stacked blond, intelligent, kind. "My! Necking in a restaurant parking lot," I thought. "They must have it bad."

Just then Lisa opened her eyes, spotted Susan, and waved while breaking the clinch. Jeremy made a "Wo-wo" sound, and the fellow looked up, smiling--until he saw me. At that moment, my eyes locked with those of Robert Martin. ....... On the drive back home, I was mute as a stone. My synapses were firing wildly with all the possibilities that lay ahead for Kenny. He was too puppyishly ardent for him to have agreed to Robert's dating a woman, which meant Kenny didn't know that Robert was seeing Lisa. I imagined Robert had chosen Club Eleven because it wasn't some place high school kids went unless they were in the company of their parents. He thought he was safe.

Make no mistake about it: Kenny WOULD hear. In less than a week students in the high school would be whispering about the new couple. What would Kenny's reaction be when he heard? If Robert told him first, perhaps it wouldn't seem a betrayal. But if Kenny heard about it from others, there was no way he wouldn't regard it as just that. In any case, I knew Kenny's reaction would not be good. I also knew if Robert hadn't told him by now, he probably never would.

I was staring out the window pensively, biting my bottom lip, facing the dark night, now seemingly lit by garish neon lights from signs advertising businesses by which Troy's car was flying. I was staring so intently that one would have thought that I was waiting for the night to deliver some answers.

Of course, Susan picked up on my mood change. She may even have watched carefully Robert's and my reaction to each other. Robert had stared at me stonily. I think my mouth was agape. As the group moved on, I followed, looking back one more time at Robert, scowling. Why was I feeling a little sick at my stomach? I knew what it was: it felt as though something beautiful had been sullied, desecrated. Damn! I'd bet this was not going to work out well.

On the drive home, Troy and Jeremy were visiting nonstop as they had taken to doing recently. I looked up to see Susan studying me. I looked down at my hands. "Robert and Kenny?" she asked so quietly that it wasn't audible in the front seat. I shook my head in the affirmative. "You're worried about Kenny?" Again I shook my head.

"You didn't know," I asked. She shook her head in the negative. That meant Robert and Lisa had just started dating, for Susan was so plugged into networks that she would be among the first to hear the news making its way through the school. Susan and I remained silent until we reached home.

Susan and Troy helped Jeremy carry the bags of clothes to his bedroom. I dropped my jacket in my bedroom and moved out to the living room. Troy and Susan sat for a brief time while Susan and Jeremy worked out details of their visit to the salon, and then the three worked out initial logistics for Saturday's double date. Then Troy and Susan took their leave with our sincere thanks for their help. Laughing, they offered their services for another shopping spree the next week since it was so much fun. I pulled out my wallet, allowing it to flop open as though it were lifeless. We had a good laugh. "We killed Evan's wallet," Troy crowed. They expressed their gratitude for dinner along with a request for the four of us to reprise the occasion. Then they were on their way.

Jeremy and I spent about half an hour locating proper hangers for his new clothes, removing sales tags, stacking the pants and shirts for the laundry. "Do you work tomorrow?" I asked.

"No, we're limited to working only so many hours a week."

"Good. I have a few errands with which I need help. May we run those after school? We'll drop these dress clothes by the cleaners then too."

"They're new. What do they need cleaning for?"

"Trust me. You want them cleaned."

"Okay."

"Hey, snag us a couple of cokes and let's sit in the sunroom. While you do that, I'm going to wash a new pullover, slacks, socks, and underwear for you to wear to school tomorrow." I picked out the clothes and started them through a washing cycle.

On the way to the sunroom, I grabbed the sack with the wristwatch. When Jeremy sat down, I handed him the sack. He looked at me oddly, then pulled out the watch. His eyes grew large. "Evan, you shouldn't have. You've spent so much money on me today."

"Put it on," I said quietly. As he did, his eyes lit up. He was one happy fella.

"It looks good. Makes your forearm appear more muscular. Draws attention to your attractive hands." They were attractive, on the large side but with slim fingers. One might even call them elegant.

"I never had a wristwatch, so I always had to monitor my time carefully," he said. "Why?" he asked, looking at me intently.

"It's just Poetic Justice balancing your account," I replied with a smile. "I know you'll never understand it, so you have to trust me when I tell you that allowing me to do these things for you is healing me." I saw the flinch in his eyes.

"I'm not talking about the accident, Jeremy, when I mention healing. I've had problem areas in my life that you don't know about. You and Tim are helping those heal. You are moving me on to something else good. That watch is a big thank you for helping me."

I saw that mischievous glint in his eyes. "What do I get if I help you by waxing your car."

"A sack of peanuts."

"Well, that hardly seems anywhere close to Poetic Justice."

"It makes monkeys happy." He flipped me the bird.

I smiled: "Poetic Justice works in mysterious ways." He snickered. We sat in companionable silence for a bit.

"You know, Evan, kind of a strange but nice thing happened today."

"Tell me about it."

"Before English class started, Kenny Walters asked me if I had a minute to talk after lunch. I told him I did, so we decided to meet in the library. When we found each other in the library, he showed me a really great sketch he had made of me. Let me show you." He hopped up, running off to his bedroom, returning moments later with a piece of sketch paper in his hand. He handed it to me. It was quite good. As Kenny had explained to me several nights earlier, a mischievous gleam drew one's gaze to Jeremy's eyes, and his smile was bright, attractive, as was his visage.

But I saw too the hint of sadness at the corners of Jeremy's mouth, the hint that Kenny had mentioned. I wondered if the sadness would be there now if Kenny were to sketch Jeremy again. I might ask Kenny what he thought about that. I might be short-sightedly assuming that the sadness was due to Jeremy's home life when it could be due to something else. I hoped not.

Then I remembered Robert and Lisa. This might not be the best time to pursue the point with Kenny. At the same instant it occurred to me that my request could also be a good diversionary tactic to point Kenny away from the pain he would be feeling to a recovery experience.

"This sketch is good!" I exclaimed. "He's made you look so attractive, smoothed out your ugliness."

"Bastard! I look so good that one glance at this sketch would put a babe into heat mode!"

I snorted in derision. "You're so subtle, Jeremy. However did you come by that ability?" I'd never seen it on Jeremy before: a grin that boldly invited one to eat excrement. I roared with laughter. "But this sketch is good. What are you going to do with it?"

"Keep it because I've never had anyone sketch me and because Kenny did the sketch."

"Now I know the nice part. What's the strange part?"

"Kenny started asking me about how I was feeling, how my life was going, what I liked to do in my free time. We must have talked for almost half an hour. We visited as though we had been buddies for years. It felt good. I think it did for Kenny too. Then he asked if we could hang together one evening, maybe go to a mall or movie. Of course I agreed."

"I'm missing what the strange part is."

Jeremy looked at me for a minute as though I were an idiot who couldn't see the significance of the circumstances he had just set out. "What's strange is that Kenny would want to be friends with me, would want to hang out. Usually he and Robert Martin run around together."

"Why wouldn't he want to be your bud? Maybe he needs more than just Robert as a friend." Oh, did I ever KNOW that Kenny was going to need friends when he found out about Robert and Lisa. I just hoped friends would be enough.

"Most people need more than just one friend, you know. Maybe he wants a friend in one of his classes or around his own age." Again, he looked at me as though I were being deliberately obtuse.

"Jeremy, you must not be so quick to ALWAYS see yourself as the one who needs friends. I know for a fact that Kenny has his down days. He may have circumstances in his life of which others are unaware. You know how kids are: they can be dying inside but never let anyone see. Look at your home life. How many of your classmates knew you had such difficulties?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I was too ashamed to tell anyone about it."

"My point exactly."

"If you always frame conversations in the 'Jeremy is a second-class citizen' mode, then you are going to be blind to others' needs. They may be crying for help while you are obsessing about how low-class they think you are. I know you Jeremy: if someone needed help, it would tie you in knots to withhold that help. You've been so starved for people's recognition that you are more than ready to understand their need for someone to take an interest in them. Helping others is a profound contribution to the quality of their lives, especially their sense of hope. You'll never make that contribution if you are not open so that you can hear those cries for help. But you can't be open to others as long as you are focused on yourself. Would you want to miss an opportunity to help someone just because you were hung up on your own problems?"

"No."

"Your great challenge now is to stop living in the past so that you can live into the future. To throw off your old baggage so that you can help others. It isn't easy. No matter how much we may loathe that old baggage, it was part of us for a LONG time; in our minds it defined us. We think we can't exist apart from who we were. At that point, that baggage, that former self-image, becomes a prison of our own making. In your case, that is the same history that told you that you are nothing.

"So you think Kenny might want me as a friend?"

"Who sought whom out?"

Jeremy thought for a moment, a smile kindling in the corners of his mouth. "It would be great, Evan. To have Kenny as a buddy," he spoke softly.

"That's the choice he was offering you, Jeremy. All you have to do is accept."

"But how will I know how to help someone--say Kenny--if he comes to me with a problem?"

"Excellent question, my man. You will not immediately know, so you rely on one of three processes. First, listen to this person--Kenny, for example. Allow what he tells you to fill your mind as air fills a balloon. Remember: if one stops the flow of air into the balloon, then the balloon--in this instance, your perception of the situation being related to you by Kenny--is less than you need for it to be. And, yes, my smart- aleck friend, for I know what you are thinking--only rarely will you take on too much air and explode."

He laughed because I had anticipated his smart-ass reply.

"As your perception enlarges, so does your skill in recognizing possibilities. Then suggest those possibilities, allowing Kenny to select among them."

"What if he doesn't choose the correct possibility?"

"You won't always know what the correct possibility for Kenny is. You will more likely know what the correct one IS NOT. That's called Definition by Negation, by the way, which is the opposite of Definition by Synonymous Statement, telling Kenny what HIS correct option IS. Sometimes its best to start with the IS NOT as a means of reaching the IS. Socrates taught us that--pardon my indulging in a teachable moment." He smiled.

"That's why Kenny must chose," I continued. "He has a vested interest in making his own choice work. He does not have a vested interest in a choice imposed on him by someone else."

"The second process for helping another occurs if Kenny is not talking, so there is nothing to hear. In this instance, you become Kenny, but here's the challenge. It isn't Jeremy pretending to be Kenny. It's Jeremy transforming into Kenny. For this to happen, you momentarily step out of Jeremy and into Kenny. You will know this has happened when you feel a shift in your feelings, which accompanies a shift in your perception. When you feel what Kenny is feeling, even if not to the same degree, then you can start recognizing possibilities, for you will not have left your orientation to the larger helping task or your good judgment behind when you move into Kenny's emotional field. The second process for helping others requires more time than the first."

"But if he won't tell me what his problem is, how can I know what to feel?"

"Good question. You are not only with me, but you're ahead of me. You begin with the cues on the surface of his behavior: the disposition of his mouth, eyes, face, shoulders, arms, voice, overall body. As you begin to fit into those, they will usually lead you to the next level. You can begin to prompt replies from Kenny by verbalizing what you are feeling about what you are experiencing, which usually elicits remarks from him. These remarks lead to his talking about his situation. If all else fails, you turn to the third process--help the person identify someone with whom he would feel comfortable and to whom he can talk."

"Good . . . that's good, Evan. Now I want to practice. Will you be my trial subject?"

I laughed. "No, but you won't wait for one long Jeremy. Troubled people are all around you. And you need to start with a genuine instance. But I'm happy you have just reacted as you have. You possess leadership abilities, Jeremy. They are powered by your wanting to make others feel good."

I paused in thought. "An interesting distinction just popped into my mind. The nice thing is that you will be a different kind of leader than Troy. I'm not putting Troy down, by the way. You're both being leaders of different sorts explains why you two are hitting it off. You are both leaders, but your powers complement rather than challenge each other."

"You're right," Jeremy exclaimed. "I just never realized it fully until now. Troy and I can even see this in each other's eyes. Kind of like you and Susan. Imagine: we were in your classroom together all this time but never tumbled to this link between us."

"Troy's power base is more traditional, the lead male of physical prowess and ability."

"Ouch," Jeremy said, overdramatically wincing. "I feel put down."

"Bull!" I shot back. "Your leadership can be the more powerful with people. People's reaction to Troy's role as leader is essentially external-- they recognize his role. They may follow without ever letting him in. But their reaction to you will be internal. You are the light-bringer; you bring warmth, care and concern--healing. They will want to let you in."

Ah-oh. I saw the tears forming in his eyes. I knew he was thinking about the accident. Before I could react, he threw himself out of his chair and at my feet with his head in my lap, quietly sobbing. My first reaction was to shush him, but I realized immediately that his weeping was proper. Again, I used my hands to make soothing circles across his back. He needed to work out the conflict between his power base and his shoving me. Only then would he move past it. But he would be the wiser for having done it. And he would begin to change--so rapidly that I probably wouldn't be able to keep up with him.

Eventually, his sobs subsided. He rose on his knees, looking at me for the longest time. Then Jeremy stood up, leaned down and picked me up as though I were a child. He was stronger than I imagined. He looked into my eyes. "This won't be a habit with us, Evan. It won't interfere with you and Tim," he said as he started carrying me to his bedroom.

To say I was astonished would be an understatement. I realized that his choice of his bedroom instead of mine meant he was asserting himself, his will, however benignly. "I need this, Evan. Please don't stop me. Deep down, I know I need this." I gulped.

He laid me on his bed. "When stuff was bad at home, I would leave in a huff. One place where I always felt good was school. You see, I'd found a way to get into the school without tripping an alarm. I'd just go there, hunker down somewhere, usually in the gym area--lots of big, empty spaces and shadows--and think about my life. One night I kept hearing faint noises. So I silently crept around, checking them out. I traced the noises to the exercise room. I peeked around the door. There were these three guys in there." Now it was my turn for my eyes to widen. "Two were tied up, and this tall guy was fucking the other two. While he fucked one guy, the bound guys were kissing. Everyone was into it and getting off on it; I could tell."

I turned my head to look away. He sat on the side of the bed, turning my face toward him. "I was so turned on that when Robert fucked you, Evan, I creamed my pants. I wanted to be there with Robert, Kenny, and you. As so often in my life, I felt shut out. I thought if three guys could be with me in this intensely sexual way, I would really be okay."

"You never said anything," I observed quietly.

"How could I say anything? How does one open such a discussion like THAT? You turn me on, Evan. You always have. You turn me on everywhere--my mind, my body, my heart--yeah, I'll grudgingly admit it--my soul. And now you have rescued me in much the same way you tell me I can rescue others. Please give me this gift, Evan. Please seal the vision you have given me."

Wow! This talk had that ritualistic ring again.

He stood, pulling his shirt off, his tee over his head. He unfastened his jeans, allowing them to fall. He pushed his frayed jockeys down his legs, pulling off his Nikes and his socks. Then he stood. His shoulders were wide, but not as wide as Tim's. He had nicely defined pecs. He had more muscles in his arms than I would have imagined. No hair on his chest. His nipples were quarter-size, chocolate-colored circles just at the bottom of his pecs, and the nipples were already hard. He had no treasure trail, but his long cock rested in a profuse bed of pubic hair. His dick bulged out in the middle, and the head was an attractive bell shape. His balls, swinging slightly, were held loosely in a hair-covered sack. His legs were long and muscled, rather like a runner's. He looked good!

Then he gently reached down, taking off my tennis shoes and socks. He unfastened the button on my shorts, sliding them carefully down my legs, over the splint. The same with my briefs. He leaned down, giving the head of my hard cock a lick while resting his right hand above the splint and running his left hand up my leg. Then he dived below my cock into my balls, sniffing around there, moaning quietly, licking my ball sac. Then he gently pushed my legs up a little and apart as he licked my perineum, stopping to sniff along the way.

He arose, bending over me and kissing me so gently, so sweetly. I could feel tears falling from his cheeks on my cheeks while his tongue slowly entered my mouth, sliding lightly over mine. He broke the kiss, moving back, looking deeply into my eyes. "I love you, Evan. It's all mixed up now with everything else I'm feeling for everyone, but I love you. I don't know exactly how it is that I love you. No, that's not it. I mean I don't know what our roles are even as I know I love you. But I feel saved. I feel so quiet, at peace inside. You didn't do it. I made it happen. But I couldn't have done it without your being present in me. I'll get it straightened out in my head, and I know we will have a couple of conversations about what is going to happen now," he smiled, "but the good stuff wouldn't have happened without you." He bent down, kissing me passionately this time.

When we broke the kiss, I said, "Slide up here on my chest. I want to taste you." He rose, walking toward me on his knees. He sat down lightly on my chest. If I hadn't had cracked ribs, it would have felt great. As it was, I could live with it a while. I placed one hand under Jeremy's balls, gently rubbing his bag. I ran my hand softly over his cock, feeling its seven-inch heft. I leaned forward and licked the underside a few times. His musk was spicy, making my cock harden even more. He tightened up, a little gasp escaping his mouth. I ran my tongue around the head of his cock. Then I moved it into my mouth. I could feel little trembles. I think Jeremy had never had a man's mouth on his cock before. I moved down until it touched the back of my throat. As I pulled off, I set up a strong suction. I'd pull back an inch, move forward a half inch, then pull off another inch, varying the suction all the while. I could hear an occasional whimper escape his throat. I moved a finger back along his perineum and back to his pucker, gently running the tip of my finger around the circle while going back down on him again.

"Evan, I'm going to cum if you continue. But I want to fuck you. Please? I've never fucked anyone, Evan. I creamed my pants when Robert fucked you because that's what I wanted to do--fuck you."

"Okay." To allow him to cool down a little, I had him scoot between my legs, putting lube on his fingers and explaining how he should prepare me. He was doing extremely well, for I was turned on big time. I told him so. He smiled proudly. He was concentrating as his first finger plunged into my hole. By the third finger, he was smiling, for I was making appreciative noises.

I had him hand me the lube while I prepared his cock. I had fun with the preparations. I ever so slowly slicked the lube over and down his cock, over and around and around and around the head, down and even over his balls. He was whimpering.

"Evan, please don't make me cum yet."

With a smile, I desisted. "I just want you to know, Jeremy, how desirable you are. You've got the stuff, Stud."

Smiling cockily, he gently placed pillows under my ass. Then he moved up so that the head of his cock was bumping my hole. He gently broke past the muscle ring, pausing, as I suggested, to allow for some adjustment. Then he slowly pushed into me. When he hit bottom, I could feel his ball bag gently caressing me.

Jeremy sort of lay, sort of raised himself above me on his hands as he pumped into my ass so gently and so slowly, just like his kisses. I knew he was struggling to control himself, to draw it out as long as possible. He was looking at me intently. I reached up and began tweaking his nipples. He groaned, closing his eyes in ecstasy. Then I began to periodically clamp down on his cock with my ass muscles, milking his cock as he pulled out. I could feel his trembling increase.

Little fragmented whimpers broke out of his mouth. "I knew . . . it would be . . . good, Evan, . . . but never . . . this good," he gasped.

His cock was making a regular pass over my prostate, but it was also heating up my ass channel. I could feel the heat moving into my cock and my balls, increasing the tingling in my cock. I was going to shoot without touching myself.

It must have been quite a contortion, but Jeremy managed to lean down to kiss me without allowing his full weight to rest on my ribs. His kiss was so sweet, so gentle. He was sending all sorts of messages to me, and I was taking delivery on every one of them. Suddenly, he sped up, pushing in more forcefully. I focused on him, feeling the tingling waves in my cock and balls increase. All of a sudden he jammed into me as far as he could, his cock enlarged as he pumped his cum into me. Then my cock shot cum out over my stomach. Our orgasm seemed to go on and on. Slowly, he sank down on me, kissing me gently. We lay like that for minutes.

Oh boy. Robert and Kenny and Lisa. Tim and Evan and Jeremy. Triangles. Problems.

(To be continued)