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"BRIARWOOD"
aka "Whence Cometh My Help"
R.S.V.
A dramatic saga
by
Ritch Christopher
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BOOK ONE
Chapter Three
For:
"wherever you go, I will go,
wherever you live. I will live.
Your people shall be my people.
and your God, my God.
Wherever you die, I will die
and there I will be buried"
That was the charge and the commitment Cliff undertook in accepting his first parish, St. Genesius, in Briarwood. He had had many other offers but this little church of 350+ people was about the largest sized flock he cared to feed. Cliff took the offer with the agreement that the church would use the standard 1928 mass. The newer one was entirely too modern and, to him, bordered on sacrilege, leaving out the majestic drama that Henry the Eighth had set forth when he broke away from the pope in order to condone his divorces and lifestyle. That's why Cliff was drawn to the church in the first place...the church that recognized other lifestyles that were doomed for eternal damnation in the Southern Baptist Church. If a married couple was better off being divorced, then so be it! If a guy was born gay. so be it! No one would be punished for trying to live a better life, if that was the way it was meant to be.
Cliff hoped that the Anglican Church would turn a forgiving eye on all the sexual encounters and discretions he had committed in college and in seminary, because now he would have to assume his role as leader. No more cavorting, no more catching quickies in the choir loft. He would be expected to be the holy leader...the shepherd...the one all the members of the faith would look up to for leadership, comfort, and moral example. It was just going to be more than difficult for him to change his ways so drastically. He had been very lucky in hiding his petty misdeeds and leaving no immoral clues which would lead to him. He realized that he was not alone. Most of his fellow priest-candidates at seminary felt the same and were just as guilty of misdeeds as he. Only Cliff was not afraid to voice them among his peers. This too would have to change if Cliff was to create an image of spirituality for his congregation. That wouldn't stop him from looking or fantasizing in his bed at night. In this respect, Cliff was in the majority of his classmates in that he had been ordained as a gay priest, even though they didn't attach the adjective. He was sure, if most people heard him talking this way, they would be shocked and ready to damn his soul, but they'd never really taken a good look at any man they respect who is wearing the backward collar.
Cliff arrived in Briarwood on a Monday, giving his plenty of time to prepare to celebrate his first mass the following Sunday. He met with the choirmaster, the organist and the vocal ensemble on Wednesday evening. Adolph, the choirmaster, was an obese little guy with a great sibilant lisp. He was the kind of guy you wouldn't want your son to walk across a parking lot with. The choir consisted of sixteen so-called singers...four sopranos, four altos, two tenors, four baritones and two basses. Twelve of the sixteen were borderline seniors citizens with the usual customary blue hair. Of the remaining four, two, one tenor and one baritone, were both in their early 20's. The tenor was blonde, baby faced, blue eyed, and with no indication of a beard. He could easily have passed for 13 or 14. The baritone was another story. Why he chose to join this group could baffle even Ripley. This guy could have played leads in Hollywood, either in movies or TV. His name was Rob Hawley and, at one time, in high school or college. perhaps, had aspirations of going to New York to be a Broadway star. He had a big blaring musical-comedy singing voice which didn't really blend in with the warbles of the other croakers. Timmy Donahue, the cherubic looking tenor, was Irish through and through. He was a typical "Danny Boy" tenor whose upper register could drown out 14 of his fellow 16 choir members (except for Rob, of course). In spite of the appearance of age difference, they were only six months apart...both being 24, just four years younger than Cliff. They were also the first two Cliff wanted in his close circle of supporters.
When being interviewed for the position, Chris stressed that he was high on ceremony but low on formality. He didn't want anyone using his last name. He wanted to be known to everyone as just plain old 'Father Cliff', a lead he had taken from Father Kent. It earned respect while encouraging camaraderie and friendship...a hop, skip and a jump away from total trust.
The rectory was small with six rooms including two bedrooms, a house quite large enough to house a single rector. The furniture was just plain old; no matter how many times they called it antique, it was old...probably donated pieces one step above what was normally given to the Salvation Army. The church, though, was charming with wealthy parishioners having contributed a stained glass window each to honor a deceased member of his family. Each pair of large windows depicting the stations of the cross was beautifully followed by one of seven more, the seven representing the sacraments. The altar was subtly illuminated by shadow lighting worthy of Hollywood, its design the work of the director of the local community theatre. A huge crucifix hung from two cables stretched from the ceiling, the cross itself suspended directly above the main altar in a way that reminded Cliff of the sword of Damocles.
It was Cliff's desire to get to know as many of his flock as quickly as possible, so he posted an announcement on the church bulletin board out front that the church would be open for confessions all afternoon on Saturday. This was a good way to get to know a lot about one's fold, for he had learned that in small community parishes, when people came to confess. not only did they give explicit details, they also seemed eager to name names, which made it difficult at times to fit the penance with the sin. A priest often felt the futility of saying. "Go and sin no more", because one knew damned well if they had enjoyed what they had done wrong, they were bound to do it again...(If it feels good,...etc.).
In retrospect, Cliff felt he should have advertised an all-day confession---the line of sinners was longer than he ever expected. The confessees surely seemed have a lot to get off their chests. One time, about 3:30, Cliff had to stop to pee and light a quick cigarette in the bathroom. During the afternoon, he'd heard all of the seven deadly sins confessed to except murder, unless he counted one man who had poisoned his neighbor's pit bull. Let's just say the new priest learned a great deal about adulterous thoughts in word and very much in deed. And then there was the woman had stolen another woman's prize recipe and had entered it in the Woman's Day competition for the best pea soup.
Cliff had seen both the two choir members, Rob and Timmy, waiting their turns and couldn't wait to hear about their misdemeanors. But the next person to enter the booth was a man around thirty years of age, a man of such physical beauty Cliff almost gasped. The screen which divided them had wooden slits placed so that Cliff could see him, but he couldn't see Cliff. The young man had short curly black hair, olive skin, and blue eyes that would defy Paul Newman's or Steve McQueen's. His voice was resonant, not denoting any graphic local identity. He was the focus of Cliff's complete attention as he spoke,
"Father, give me thy blessing," he began.
To which Cliff replied, "The Lord be with thy heart and lips that thou mayest humbly and faithfully confess thy sins."
"I confess to you, Father, that I have sinned exceedingly in thought, word, and deed, through my fault, my own fault, my most grievous fault and especially since my last confession. I accuse myself of the following sins: Father, I am a victim of my own transgressions. My sins are so tangled and interwoven, I hardly know where to begin. I've done many rotten things in my life, but I'm involved in such a sordid situation now, my only thoughts are of suicide or maybe murder."
This was the kind of confession Cliff had seen in movies or read about in a good Andrew Greeley novel but hoped that he would never have to personally absolve, as the details unfolded.
"You see, Father, I've always used my looks to their best advantage. I could sell an air-conditioner to an igloo dweller. I've never met the woman, young or old, that I couldn't get into bed. I've worked many jobs where rich dowagers paid me plenty for sexual favors. A few months ago, I was working as a tennis pro at the country club and this beautiful but aging socialite hired me to give her a few lessons. At the time, my Lexus was about to be repossessed and after a few dinner dates and way too many cocktails, this rich bitch---excuse me, Father---offered to pay off the balance $22,000 dollars I still owed on the car. I thought I could give her a few rolls in the hay and work off my debt. The day I paid off the bank in full, I was invited to her house for a 'special' dinner. She put on a spread that would rival Prince Ranier in Monaco...Dom Perignon champagne...broiled European pheasant...caviar from Kiev...the works! The evening wore on and I started making my play for her. She acted coy, but took my hand and led me to an upstairs bedroom. Everything was going just as I expected until she opened the bedroom door. Seated on the round king-sized bed, clad in silk pajamas, was her 14 year old son. I stood there stunned as she revealed the terms for my repayment. Her son was gay and I had been hired to be his sex slave. I naturally refused, but she became quite adamant about the necessity of my fulfilling my contract and if I didn't, she would call her brother, who just happens to be a District Court judge and tell him that I had molested her son. Father, I was trapped. I couldn't pay back the loan and I risked imprisonment if I refused to pleasure her heir. The last thing she said as she left me in the room with him was, 'Kenny does not like to be disappointed...if you fail to satisfy him, you'll regret it.' The kid asked me to take off my clothes and for the next three hours he poked, prodded, sucked, licked and fucked every inch and hole in my body, I hoped beyond all hope that he was satisfied and I could leave while I still had a few scraps of self-respect left. When I did leave him and went downstairs, I found the old hag waiting for me. It was then that she asked when I would move in. It turned out that I was to be a permanent fixture until my debt was paid. I didn't know what the going hourly rate was for being a teenager's whore, but I knew it would take a long, long time before he grew tired of me. I can't go to the authorities, I have no recourse or plan. I don't know how to get out of my dilemma, short of suicide, unless I should decide to kill either or both of them first."
Cliff wanted to shout, "Good God Almighty!!" but restrained himself.
"I know you can't spiel off the usual, 'Go, my son, and sin no more' I have to go and keep sinning unless I want to spend the next 25 years in prison."
Cliff thought a long time before answering.
"It's not customary for a priest to put an absolution on 'hold'. but I'm afraid I have no choice. I want to take your situation under advisement and see what, if anything, I can do to help you escape from this entrapment. I only ask that you blot out the suicidal ideation, and the murder, of course, and let's see what I can come up with. No problem is too great to be solved. This one can be solved, too. The answer is just not obvious to us right now. But I think between the two you us, we can resolve this without resorting to things that would put your soul in eternal danger."
"Father, just say you'll pray for me...I need help."
"I'll pray for you night and day until we get this situation settled. Do you mind if I ask your name?"
"It's Troy, Father, Troy Wilkinson."
"Troy, is there any way you can get away tomorrow night for a little while?"
"It's possible. I tell them sometimes I have to go see my father on Sunday and don't get back until late. It's like my only night off."
"Does your father live nearby?"
"No, he's dead or at least that's what I tell everyone. Actually, he's sick in a nursing home with Alzheimer's. I lie about his death so that I can find time for myself."
"Why don't you come to Evening Vespers tomorrow night at 7:00 and afterwards we'll go over to the rectory and get a quick bite and we can sit and talk this whole thing out"
"I'll do all I can to make it. I just don't want to arouse their suspicions."
"I'll pray for you, Troy, and try not to worry about it yourself. Let's us worry together."
"Thanks, Father."
Cliff might as well put up a 'closed for repairs' sign on the confessional booth because mentally he was gone for the rest of the day, as his thoughts remained focused entirely on Troy's situation.
After two other moderate 'go through the motions' confessions, the next to enter was Rob, the baritone.
"...I accuse myself of the following sins: Father, I am basically a good person. I was a good student making straight "A"'s in high school. I was popular, played the lead in my high school production of "Man of La Mancha", went on to college, got a BA in theater and music, did the normal things, joined a fraternity, again played leads in theatrical productions. I had dreams of going to New York and attending the American Academy of Dramatic Arts and, one day, becoming the next Richard Kiley or Alfred Drake. Instead I now have a position as a career placement counselor. In college I met this local girl and we dated steadily and then just before graduation, she told me she was pregnant. I wasn't ready for marriage, nor did I love her enough to marry her. I offered to pay for an abortion, but she wouldn't hear of it. So to save both our families the embarrassment, I agreed to marry her. It was more like blackmail, I guess. I resented her so much that I vowed to her that if we went through with the wedding, I would NEVER sleep with her or have sex with her EVER again. I kept that promise. I married her and after five months together her pregnancy didn't begin to 'show'. I became very suspicious only to learn she was NOT, nor ever had been, pregnant. She had lied only to 'trap' me as her husband. And so we live together in a state of pretense for the sake of our families. I swear to you I have not as much as touched her since she told me about the 'baby'.
"That's not my biggest problem. It was my third year of college when, one drunken night at the frat house, I went into the back room and did some post-adolescent sexual experimenting with a couple of my fraternity brothers. I was 21 years old and that's when I realized deep inside that I was gay. My parents are both Lutheran and in their particular church, being gay is a sin against God and the church. I could never reveal my true nature to my father. He would have had me evaluated for therapy. So, to keep up appearances, I continued dating showy frosh girls to protect my familial devotion and self-respect. But occasionally, when I could find the time for a brief interlude, I would grab any chance to have a quick tryst with a guy, if only for fifteen minutes. I'm not effeminate nor do I think like a woman, but I feel like the 'real me' is trapped inside and will never have the chance to know the happiness that I seek."
"Do you still look for men to have these 'brief encounters'?"
"I wouldn't really call them encounters. The only sex I have is with strangers in the dark, never knowing their names nor seeing their faces. Just outside the city limits, there is this adult video store and about once every two months, when I feel my testicles are about to turn blue, I sneak out there and get my rocks off through a glory hole. Neither of her parents or mine believe in divorce. So what do I do, live to be a ripe old age and hope that I outlive her or just pack a few clothes and run away and assume a new identity? I accuse myself of hating my wife and often wishing she were dead."
'Goddamn! Did all these parishioners have to come on the same day?' Cliff thought to himself. He still had another dozen confessions to hear and was already weighted down with problems these people had been suppressing for years, but suddenly they all wanted their problems and their sins solved and forgiven in one day. Maybe he should tear out the confessional booth rebuild it so that the confessee had a couch to lie on and Cliff could charge them an offering by the hour.
"Rob, these things which disturb you just didn't happen over night. You've had them on and off for years, I will absolve you of your thoughts and deeds, but this is a problem I'm sure we can work out. If you're free, say next Tuesday night around 7:30, can you drop by the rectory and we can have a drink and sit and talk like two men. You and I can both be freer then and somehow, we WILL work out something. Be prepared to stay a couple of hours, if you can. The world has seen many others before you with the same story and I'm sure there'll be many more to come. And many, many of them found a way to freedom and happiness without resorting to drastic measures.
Now may the Lord grant thee absolution and remission of all thy sins, space for amendment of life and the grace and comfort of the world to come. Go in peace for your sin hath been put away."
Jesus Christ! This was only Cliff's first day in his new parish and he was ready for the looney bin. With all he had heard since noon, if he could charge by the sin, the church could build a new rectory with a swimming pool. Cliff could already see he had to stock a bar at home. Where was little Timmy and what did he have to confess? (as if Cliff didn't already suspect!).
"...I accuse myself of the following sins: Father, I can no longer go on leading the life that I have. I am 23 years old, graduated just last year with a degree in music and I got a job as band and orchestra director at the high school where my dad is principal. I love my job and I love my students, but lately, Father, I have become so attracted to them that I desire them sexually. I often have to leave the bandroom and go into a booth in the bathroom and masturbate to curtail the urges I feel."
Cliff HAD to ask the question, "Are these female students or male students or both?"
"Male students...boys...guys...men...males with penises. All my life I knew I liked the male sex but in all my life, I've never had ONE experience. I've lived at home all my life with my mom and dad. They didn't disapprove of my dating as long as she was a Christian and had high moral values. I've never even felt up a girl. Every year when they cast the Christmas pageant, I'm afraid to volunteer, afraid that they will type-cast me as the Virgin Mary. That's what I call myself every time I look at myself in a mirror while shaving or brushing my teeth or combing my hair.
Father, these urges are growing stronger and stronger. I sometimes feel I won't be able to control myself and I want to jump a little trumpet or trombone player and rip his jeans off and bury my head in his crotch. I know if I ever tried anything, not only I would suffer, but my father would lose his job as well, plus I'd be tarred and feathered and hanged from the nearest tree."
"Are you parents members here at the church?"
"Heavens, no, father. They're Southern Baptists!"
At last, a compatriot with whom Cliff could sympathize!
"Tim, you are too rational to do anything foolish. I know you would go to any lengths to keep from forcing yourself on some underage student. You should be concerned if your urges are growing beyond control. May I ask if you are only attracted to younger people or have you considered trying to find a partner your age or older?"
"Father, pardon my being so crass, but sometimes I get so horny I would try to have sex with the statue of George Washington which sits on the front lawn at the school."
"Tim, I'm new to the area as you know, but do you know if there are any gay bars in Briarwood?"
"There's a couple, but can you imagine what would happen if I were caught or even seen in one of them? My students' parents would ride me out of town on a rail."
"I want to talk to you about this in length, somewhere else, not just in confession. I want you to pray about this and continue suppressing your 'urges'. If it helps. go in the bathroom and masturbate before you go to school and if you feel like you have a strong impulse that you can't control, then go into some private place and 'get off' again, at noon, on a regular basis. I don't want to see you getting into trouble before we find some solution." Then an idea occurred to Cliff. "Are you free to come by the rectory, say Tuesday night around 8:00?"
"I think so."
"Good, then I'll expect you then. Be prepared to stay a couple of hours while we talk. And now I grant you absolution and remission of all thy sins, space for amendment of life and the grace and comfort of the world to come. Go in peace for your sins have been put away."
It was six o'clock. He was starving and desperately wanted a drink but Cliff knew he couldn't imbibe; he had a 7:30 meeting with two young boys, Jason and Tony, who were to serve as acolytes at tomorrow's masses. Cliff wanted a dress rehearsal so that everything would flow without a hitch.
Around 7:15, the two boys arrived, They could have passed for brothers...light brown hair...medium build, average height and weight and both looked too innocently bright-eyed for two seventeen year-old kids. They arrived together in Jason's car. Cliff was soon to learn that the parents of both boys had been friends long before either of the two boys had been born...the same year on the same month, but three days apart, Tony being the older. As infants, they played together in the same playpen and had grown up side by side, almost like twins. They had been inseparable since birth. They were cute and fun and each, singularly, could be the image of the All-American boy. They had both served the church as acolytes for two years and were well educated in their duties. The two reminded Cliff so much of Roger and himself when they were that age. He also wondered if the two of them were playing the same 'games' Roger and he had at their age? (Probably, if they were THAT close).
The faux mass went without a glitch and Cliff invited them to go out for a burger, as he still hadn't eaten, but they declined, saying they had plans to see a 10:00 PM movie at the multiplex.
For the first time in hours, Cliff was alone in the peaceful solitude of his sanctuary. One could almost feel the vibrations coming from the confessees' side of the confessional. A lot of woes had been poured out in there today, and it would take hours for Cliff to absorb it all and settle down. He walked down to the first pew and pulled out the kneeling bench and knelt. He didn't pray. He just looked at the altar and the hanging life-sized crucifix overhead and tried to capture a feeling of tranquility and serenity to soothe any doubts and indecisions. This was to be his new home, good, bad, or indifferent, and he had chosen to accept the church, its people and their problems. For a person who had lived a life void of irresponsibility, Cliff had challenged himself more than he could ever imagine.
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There were three services on Sunday morning. The first was just a eucharistic mass...no sermon...no music. Only six or eight parishioners attended. At the 9:30 service, they celebrated the communion with a sermon. Those who wanted to go to the lake or play golf usually attended this one. At 11:00, they pulled out all the stops...mass, sermon, choir, organ, a full change of colorful vestments, and censors swinging with jasmine smoke.
There were over 200 people there for Cliff's 'opening day' to review, approve or criticize. It was a tough house to play to...until they got accustomed to the new rector. Jason and Tony did their duties like clockwork. Cliff had chosen Psalm 121 as the text for his sermon..."I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help". He was in safe territory as far as text was concerned, and the congregation presumed he was begging them for help. Cliff didn't want to show favoritism on his first Sunday, so he refused all invitations for Sunday dinner.
The one invitation that he wanted to accept came from this attractive blonde lady, in her early 40's, who was seated in a pew with a very good-looking youth, who appeared to be 14 or 15 years old, who was, in turn, sitting next to Troy. As Cliff delivered his sermon, his eyes kept bouncing to each one of them, trying assess the situation, and, in the back of Cliff's mind, he kept wondering if Troy's problem COULD be solved, civilly?
Several times Cliff almost lost his train of thought and speech as his eyes locked on Troy's. There was something about this young guy that Cliff couldn't explain. Cliff wanted to just gaze at him and adore him. No boy or guy in his past had ever affected him this way. Was he attracted to Troy sexually? Cliff would be stupid to deny it, but if Troy was straight, locked into a gay situation where he felt trapped, he might refuse Cliff's help....PLUS, since Troy's 'employer' was Cliff's biggest financial donor, Cliff had to be extra careful in drawing attention to his interest in Troy by tangling himself into web of woe.
After the service, Cliff made his way to the front door to shake hands and meet all those whom he hadn't absolved the day before. He played the role of innocence as he took Troy's hand and introduced himself as if they were meeting for the first time. But the moment Cliff felt Troy's hand clasped in his, a wave of excitement crossed over his head and made his spine tingle. Cliff was very attracted to him, but had no way of knowing if the feeling was mutual. Cliff hoped and prayed more than ever that Troy would keep their prearranged meeting later that evening.
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Somehow Troy managed and was able to attend the Evening Vespers without the accompaniment of the other two. He was there...sitting in the fifth pew. Cliff didn't remember one word of the service as his thoughts were all focused on the young man. Then Cliff gave the benediction and everyone left except Troy.
"Have you eaten dinner?" Cliff asked him.
"No."
"Would you like to go out for a bite or would you like to come over to the rectory and see if we can make a supper out of some of the covered dishes the ladies of the church bestowed on me this week?"
"I think it's probably better if we aren't seen in public or in a restaurant since I'm suppose to be visiting my father."
"Fair enough. Let me turn out the lights and lock the doors. You can drive on over and wait for me at my house. I'll only be a minute behind you."
Cliff feared he would get a speeding ticket as his drove his car at the same speed his heart and mind were racing. He parked in the drive and walked toward the young man waiting for him. Cliff unlocked the front door and invited his guest in. He led Troy to the kitchen and began to unload the refrigerator shelves which were crammed with ham, chicken, carrot salads and the like.
Cliff didn't feel Troy approach from behind as Cliff bent over to reach the bottom shelf, but when he arose and turned, he found Troy standing about six inches from Cliff. His body was blocking Cliff's and his eyes were transfixed, staring into his new priest's surprised eyes. Cliff stood there for a moment motionless, not knowing what Troy's next move would be. Troy took the bowl of potato salad from Cliff's hands and placed it on the table behind him without moving his stance. Troy put his hands up to Cliff's cheeks, cupping his face, and quietly said, "I'm sorry, Father." With the unwarranted apology spoken, Troy leaned forward with his head tilting just slightly and pressed his lips on Cliff's, whose body went weak. Cliff had to slowly grab the refrigerator handle to steady himself.
Every desire and all the lust Cliff had felt for Troy since the first time he looked into Troy's eyes had just been reciprocated in the tenderest kiss Cliff had ever felt. Cliff didn't want to draw back, but at the same time he was afraid to respond to Troy. He didn't want to show how totally overcome he was with excitement. Cliff would let Troy make the next move if he so desired. Troy kissed him again and held it for about 15 seconds before he withdrew.
"Did I shock you?" Troy finally asked quietly.
"No." Cliff's voice seemed an echo of Troy's soft whisper.
"Did I offend you?"
"No."
"Well, were you surprised?"
"To say the least, yes."
"I don't know what compelled me to do that. I hope if you were offended you will forgive me for being so forward. I don't know if a man kissing you is against your moral standards...but since yesterday afternoon, when I left you at the church...kissing you has been uppermost in my mind. I've never kissed a man before. I never met a man before that I wanted to kiss, and now as I stand here, totally embarrassed, I have no idea why I wanted to kiss you."
"Don't be embarrassed. You see, if you hadn't made the first move, I probably would have."
"Then you ARE gay, as I hoped?" Troy asked.
"Yes, I'm a gay man trapped in a clerical collar."
"I thought so...well, I guess I hoped so. The only simple explanation I can offer you right now is...well, you know what I having to do to pay my debt...Well, for weeks, I've been indulging myself while the young master gets his jollies playing with my naked body...but after a while I started to enjoy the pleasure he was giving me...not everything...just some things. At night when the lights were out and he wanted me to perform oral sex on him, I began to wonder what it would be like with someone closer to my own age. I mean, I've had intercourse with so many girls and women, I've at times even found myself bored with it. But this kid...this boy...taught me things, made me feel certain things no woman has ever brought to the surface. I then started doubting myself because I started enjoying it, that maybe I was really 'bi' or something...and then yesterday...talking with you...You were the first ray of hope I've had in my life for a long time...and I wanted to thank you somehow. Hell, I'll admit it...I wanted to pleasure you...if I thought I could get away with it. While I'm putting my cards on the table, I'll go ahead and say I had a nice jerk-off session in the bathroom last night, thinking about you."
"How far had you thought to go with me?" Cliff asked cautiously.
"As far as you would let me...that is, if you were agreeable. Heck, I took a big chance...if you had been straight and I kissed you...I don't know what I would have done out of shame and guilt."
"Troy?"
"Yes."
"Would you like to spend the night here with me?"
"Right now? More than anything in the world!"
"I can't think of anything in the world I would rather do, either."
"You may have to teach me a few things...I mean, you're my first real man."
"I'll take that into account. If I go too far or too fast, let me know when to stop. I've been known to be notorious in the bedroom."
"You've had a lot of action, have you?"
"A bit. I've been with a lot of guys with whom I've had a lot of different kinds of sex...but this may be a challenge to me."
"Why's that?"
"It's confession time for me, now...you see, with those other guys, I've never felt the way that I'm feeling with you now...You're the first guy in a long, long time I've wanted to make love with...not just engage in straight sex."
"Are you trying to tell me that you're feeling what I'm feeling?"
"If you're feeling what I'm feeling then the answer may well be 'yes'. Why don't we go into the bedroom, take off our clothes, get into bed and find out just what the two of us are actually feeing?"
"Can I undress you?" Troy asked.
"Only if you let me return the gesture."
"I have four buttons, a belt buckle and a zipper for you to play with."
"Lights on or off?"
"Off...let's do it your way...let's not have sex...let's lie in the dark and see what happens."
Only moments later, they were both nude and Cliff was lying on top of Troy, his lips softly on Troy's, insisting, suggesting...waiting for Troy to invite Cliff's tongue to meet his. Troy got the idea and opened his lips and Cliff's tongue slid in to explore the mysteries of the orifice. The breath which Troy exhaled into Cliff's mouth was both hot and sweet...with a tinge of spearmint, Cliff was hoping Troy would find his breath fresh for all he had tasted was the wine from communion. Cliff's hunger for love had dissipated his hunger for nourishment.
Their hands were busy gliding over the other's body, exploring unknown territories.
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(To be continued in "Briarwood" chapter four.)