DANCING ON THE TUNDRA by Bert McKenzie Copyright 2010
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any real person alive or dead is coincidental and unintentional.
CHAPTER III
By the time they were seniors, life seemed to have settled down for Terry and Paula. The boys in his class no longer teased Terry, their minds seemingly too preoccupied with sports and the opposite sex. None of the underclassmen would dare talk back to a senior, so he was left alone to develop his interests without a continual distraction of daily misery. On the other hand, Paula who had always been a loner was now in a stable relationship. She and Jim Ragsdale had gone steady for just over two years. They both seemed content in the situation although at times Terry could notice an underlying tension when they were around. But he thought nothing of this.
Jim developed a mild friendship with Terry. They never socialized or "hung out" together during school hours, and rarely even spoke to each other in the halls. This was undoubtedly more to protect Jim's social standing than for any other reason. But some times after school Jim and Paula would give Terry a ride home in Jim's truck. On a few rare occasions Jim offered Terry rides home when Paula wasn't along. Then there were a few Saturdays when Jim picked Terry up and the two of them went out to play tennis. True to his long standing ability to be uncoordinated in such games, Terry was a mess on the court. The sessions were comprised of Jim serving and Terry chasing the ball, or Terry serving, Jim returning and Terry chasing the ball. But throughout these frustrating games Jim remained patient and calm. Meanwhile Terry got a good workout and perhaps even improved a little. Before winter set in he was able to return about a third of Jim's volleys when the balls came near him and he didn't have to run for them.
Terry's mother decided in his freshman year that what he needed to help him with his social skills was dance lessons, so she enrolled him in Mrs. Taget's School of Ballet, Tap and Jazz which met after school and on weekends. At first Terry hated it. He felt that being the only boy in a dance school gave his classmates all the more reason to pick on him and call him a sissy. Besides this, he was terrible. He had a good sense of balance and natural rhythm, but his lack of coordination made him appear gangly and awkward. But by his senior year he had surpassed all of the other students in Mrs. Taget's classes and was helping her teach the little kids. These classes also seemed to help him gain confidence to audition for the school plays and musicals for his last three high school years, his senior year winning the lead. What little coordination he attained in his tennis matches with Jim he was sure resulted from his dance classes.
Finally, in late fall Mrs. Taget approached Terry to ask if he was interested in dancing in a show at Holy Lady College. The college was a Catholic school for girls and had to import boys from other locations to play male characters in their productions. In this particular show which was primarily a dance recital for the girls, their choreographer wanted some male figures to lend support. When contacted, Mrs. Taget suggested Terry. He was only seventeen, but mature looking for his age with dark blond hair, an open, winning smile below crystal blue eyes and a well formed, if thin physique.
Mrs. Taget was also aware of how good Terry looked in tights. She would occasionally wish that she were years younger. She frequently worried about the boy in a maternal way. He seemed friendly enough with the girls in her classes, but she noticed he was always alone. She thought such a handsome, likeable boy should have several girlfriends, but Terry never got a second look from the girls and never spoke of dates or girls in general. Mrs. Taget had an unspoken fear that Terry might be different from other boys, 'special' as she called it. She knew if this were the case there was nothing she could do but pity him. She had several male friends who were 'special' when she was a professional dancer with the Rockettes many years ago. She knew how hard it was for these people to live in a world that was more hostile than indifferent.
"How will I ever get out to Lady?" Terry asked his friend during study hall as he told Paula about the offer to dance in their show. "I really want this but I just don't see how. Mom won't help out and Dad will never let me drive the car."
"Can't you ride your bike?" the girl asked.
"On the highway after dark? You think my folks are going to agree to that?"
"I've got another idea," Paula suggested after a moment of silent thought. "Maybe Jim can take you."
"Paula, it's a month of rehearsals, every night except Saturday and Sunday. Jim won't want to drive me out there and pick me up every night."
"Well he could do it at first and then maybe you can find someone else in the cast to give you rides after that."
"Well, maybe," Terry agreed hesitantly. He knew that Holy Lady was primarily a boarding school, but there might be other locals in the show who could give him a lift.
The bell rang ending the school day. "We'll meet you in the parking lot," Paula said as she gathered up her books. "I'll ask Jim. He'll do it for me."
Ten minutes later Terry was climbing into the primer colored truck's front seat. There was plenty of room as Paula scooted over against her boyfriend. The truck pulled out of the parking lot with a squeal of rubber on cement. "Jim, Terry wants to ask you a favor," Paula said abruptly as they drove up the street.
Terry blushed and poked his friend in the ribs with an elbow. "I thought you were going to ask him," he whispered to her in anger.
"Well somebody ask me," Jim replied as he reached down to shift gears with a grinding jerk. "What's up?"
"Ask him," Paula mouthed soundlessly.
"Well . . . Paula thought that maybe you might consider. . . only if you don't mind and didn't have any other plans . . . I mean, you don't have to but . . ."
"Oh Jesus, Terry," the girl finally growled, then turned to her boyfriend. "He wants to do this show out at Holy Lady and he needs a ride there."
The boy never took his eyes from the road as he turned onto Elm Street. "Sure, be glad to. When is it?"
"Well . . ." Terry began slowly.
"Every night except Saturday and Sunday for the next month," Paula supplied.
The truck screeched to a halt in the middle of the street, throwing Paula and Terry forward into the windshield. "You want me to drive you clear out to Lady every night?" Jim asked angrily as he glared at Terry who was rubbing his forehead.
"It was Paula's idea," the boy said as he sat back in the seat.
"Well he needs a ride and you've got wheels," Paula said angrily. Her head hurt where she banged it into the hard glass.
"Who's gonna pay for the gas? How's he gonna get home? You expect me to do this every night?"
Paula was angry because her boyfriend was not responding in the manner she expected. "Terry will chip in for gas. I just thought this would be a nice way for you to get out of the house each night. Then maybe we could go to the library or something."
Slowly a grin crept across the boy's face. "Well, okay," he agreed and started up the truck again. "But this is gonna cost you. You're gonna owe me big time for this one, both of you." Minutes later Terry was on the phone to Mrs. Taget telling her he could do the show.
Rehearsals had gone very well. Terry was quite popular with the college girls and performed well in the show, doing everything the choreographer/director asked of him. When he wasn't on stage he had ample time to sit in the wings and do his homework. Best of all, his days were full, too full to be unhappy. After school he had classes with Mrs. Taget and helped out at her studio to pay for lessons and earn a little extra spending money. Then he ran home for a quick bite before Jim pulled up in front of the house to drive Terry to rehearsal. At 9:30 when he got out of rehearsal Jim and Paula would be patiently waiting in the truck just outside of the auditorium. They frequently stopped somewhere for a coke and then headed home. The full routine kept Terry busy and happy.
Then came Halloween weekend. Halloween itself fell on Friday and there was a costume dance being held in the gym that night. Paula managed to talk Jim into giving Terry a ride to his rehearsal before picking her up for the dance. They both would meet Terry at 9:30 and take him back with them to the school. "I hate dances," he protested when Paula came up with the suggestion.
"The boy wonder who's been taking dance classes for four years and is starring in a college dance recital doesn't like to dance," she teased.
"That's different," Terry grouched. "Besides, I don't have a costume."
"What are you going to wear in the show next week?" Paula asked.
"Those costumes belong to the Holy Lady drama department," he protested. "I can't steal them."
"You're only going to borrow it for one night," Paula explained. "And you will too, or you'll be walking home."
"You wouldn't . . ."
She smiled broadly. "If you're not wearing a costume when we come to pick you up after rehearsal Friday night we're driving off and leaving you. I swear."
Friday finally arrived and Terry sat on the front porch in nervous anticipation. He wore his dance belt and tights under his jeans as always and carried a gym bag with him. He planned to stuff one of his costumes in the bag after rehearsal so he could smuggle it out of the college theatre building. He was lost in thought, trying to picture how he was going to pull off the caper when the truck horn jolted him back to reality. "Come on, Tutti, let's go," Jim shouted from the cab.
Terry grabbed his bag and bolted down the steps to the street. He opened the passenger door and prepared to slide into the truck when he was stopped by what he saw. Smiling at him from behind the steering wheel was an incredibly handsome swashbuckling pirate. Jim was wearing tight pants with flared bottoms stuffed into high topped riding boots, and a white ruffled long sleeve shirt that was unbuttoned down to his navel. The outfit was completed by a fake hook that protruded from the end of his right sleeve, a red bandanna tied over his head and a black eye patch. "What do you think?" he asked with a grin.
The classmate Terry had known for years, Paula's boyfriend was gone. He had been transformed as if by magic into an incredible, dashing, sexy man. For a moment Terry was almost frightened to climb into the truck. His mother's admonition to not go anywhere with strangers made him pause. Then the beautiful man opened his mouth and his classmate's voice came out, destroying the fragile image like a brick through a storefront window. "Well . . . how do I look?"
"Beautiful . . ."
"What?" Jim asked, his lip curling into a half sneer.
"I mean great. You look great."
"Well get in. I want to get you out to the college and get back. Paula said she had a real surprise for me. What's she going as?"
"I don't know," Terry admitted. "She wouldn't tell me. She said she wanted to surprise you and knew I had a big mouth."
Jim chuckled softly as he reached down to bang the stick shift into third with his hook. Terry felt his mouth go dry and his forehead break out in a cold sweat. He wasn't sure what was wrong, but he'd never felt this way before. Ever since opening the truck door and seeing Jim dressed that way, he felt disconnected with the rest of the world. His heart was pounding so loudly he was sure Jim could hear it over the sound of the engine. The tiny cab filled with the scent of the after shave Jim was wearing and it seemed to make the air thick, smothering Terry. As Jim made a sharp right turn Terry slid across the seat, sliding against his friend's body. He could feel the hard muscles rippling in the biceps under the puffy sleeve of the pirate shirt. Terry glanced over at the open area in front, exposing Jim's bare chest, and felt his body respond sexually. The dance belt suddenly felt too tight and confining under his jeans. "Sorry," Terry mumbled as he pulled away, back to his side of the seat.
He suddenly realized that Jim had been talking. He tried to pull himself out of the haze and focus on those words. " . . . said you both owed me big time for all this driving, and tonight I'm gonna collect."
"What?" Terry asked, trying to make sense of what he just heard.
"That's her surprise," Jim said with a rakish smile. "She's gonna pay me back for this big favor of driving you to Lady every night."
"Oh," Terry replied. He wasn't really sure what Jim was talking about.
"So you got a date tonight?" Sally asked. She was one of the college girls helping with the show. She and Terry were sitting in the back of the house while the last number was being paraded on stage before the director gave them notes and let them go. Sally was short and stocky with long, curly blond hair. She had an easy going, generous personality and had attempted to take Terry under her wing, introducing him to the other performers and tech crew in the college theatre.
"A date? No," Terry said quickly.
"I thought your high school was having a dance tonight. Aren't you going?"
"Well, maybe with some friends," Terry admitted. "I'm supposed to be wearing a costume, but I don't really have anything . . ."
"Why don't you wear your costume from the beginning of Act II?" Sally suddenly suggested. "You really looked good in it when everyone tried stuff on last night, and I could help you with some makeup."
"But . . . but that belongs to the college."
"I'll ask Joan," Sally said, meaning the director. "I'm sure she won't mind if you take care of it and bring it back Monday night." The number ended and Joan called everyone down front for notes. Afterwards the performers all went to change out of their rehearsal leotards and tights, back into their street clothes. Terry noticed the chunky blond chatting with the director as he headed downstairs to the men's dressing room.
The two other guys threw on jeans and departed without even going downstairs, so Terry had the big dressing room all to himself. He slipped off his brown leotard and then looked at himself critically in the full length mirror in the corner. He wasn't unattractive, and the past several years of dance classes had done a lot to sculpt his body, but he still didn't like what he saw. His chest didn't seem as muscular as he would have liked. When he stretched he could count his ribs. When he relaxed his body seemed to take on a soft, round, almost feminine quality that revolted him. Why couldn't he look like Jim Ragsdale? He again thought of Jim in the pirate costume, and again felt a stirring in his groin. Terry quickly banished the thought and tugged his tights down to the floor.
Terry was bent over, pulling the tights off over his ankle when he heard a wolf-whistle behind him. He nearly fell down yanking the tight off and turning around. His dance belt had given the observer a perfect view of his almost bare behind. There in the doorway stood Sally, arms folded across her chest and a big grin on her face. Terry blushed and held the tights in front of him as if trying to hide behind them. "Relax," the girl said as she stepped to a big metal cabinet on one wall. "I've got five brothers. I've seen it all." She opened the cabinet and rifled through several containers, making selections. "Sit down in front of one of the mirrors. I'll be right with you." Terry sat on the plastic chair, wincing for a moment as the cold plastic made contact with his bare buttocks. He slumped forward, folding his hands over his crotch in an attempt to cover himself. The dance belt seemed all too little as the girl sat down next to him.
Sally quickly put him at ease, telling him stories about her brothers and growing up on the farm. She tilted his face back and began working on him with several grease sticks and some colored makeup pencils. In minutes she was applying a layer of powder to 'fix' the job, then told him to get dressed. She handed him the blue and silver tights from his costume and waited as he slipped them on. Sally then assisted him into the leotard, pulling it out so it wouldn't smear the makeup job on his face. She then grabbed a can of spray and a brush and worked on his hair. He heard a sound like a salt shaker being used and realized she was applying glitter with the hair spray. "Done," she said triumphantly. "What do you think?"
"My God!" Terry exclaimed as he looked at the stranger in the mirror. "It's . . . it's . . ."
"It's beautiful," she said, beaming proudly at her creation. The costume was for a ballet number from Saint-Sa ns' "Carnival of Animals." Terry and a girl played a fish couple. The eerie quality of a beautiful creature of the water looked back at him from the mirror. The blues and slivers of the costume shimmered like scales of a fish, accentuated by the pastel blue makeup on his face. His blond hair was swept back, streaked with silver and flecked with sparkling glitter. Thin wisps of aquamarine chiffon floated in the air like fins from the leg and arm seams of the costume. The leotard was made of a material that was a deep azure at the bottom and gradually faded to a sheer transparent nylon as it climbed up his torso showing Terry's masculine chest to best advantage and creating the illusion that he was a man magically transformed into a fish.
"God, you are really sexy looking in that," Sally commented as she looked at him with a critical eye. Terry smiled shyly and ducked his head. "Don't do that," she commanded, gently reaching out and lifting his chin. "Remember, you're no longer Terry Michaelson of Bishop Benton High. You're the aquatic fish god of the ocean. Keep your shoulders back, your chest out and your head held high. Be proud."
"Thanks," Terry said, then quickly grabbed her for an impetuous hug.
Sally returned the embrace, then slowly pulled him back to arms length. "Now go knock 'em dead," she smiled.
He grabbed his gym bag with his regular clothes in it, then dashed out the door and up the steps. As soon as he stepped out of the building and onto the dark campus, Terry spotted the pickup. With a light, excited step he ran toward it, thinking of how surprised Paula and Jim were going to be. Terry reached the truck and yanked the door to see only Jim sitting there, the eye patch and bandanna gone. "Hi," Terry said sliding into the cab. "Where's Paula."
"Fuck the bitch," Jim said sullenly and slammed the truck into gear with lots of grinding sounds.
"What happened?"
Jim turned and looked at Terry for the first time. His eyes had a glazed expression and Terry could smell the sour aroma of beer. "What the fuck are you supposed to be?" Jim asked.
"A . . . a fish," Terry said softly, slumping down in his seat. "What happened to Paula."
"Dammit, if I wanted to go to the dance with a guy I could go with you," Jim said cryptically as he swerved to miss a tree by the side of the road. The rest of the journey was in silence.
In a little while they pulled into the school parking lot, Jim banging the truck into the bumper of another car in the next stall. Terry quickly jumped out, but Jim just sat quietly. "You coming?" Terry asked.
"In a while," the boy replied without moving. "I ain't walking in with you looking like that, Tutti."
Terry left his bag in the truck and headed into the school. At the door of the gym he showed his ID card which he carried in the tight sleeve of the leotard. The gym was dimly lit with glowing pumpkins and blue light bulbs. It was also packed with kids in all sorts of costumes, home made and store bought. The collapsible bleachers were pushed up against the walls to make room for a refreshment table. Folding chairs were lined up around the sides of the gym and there were several large groups of people scattered in strategic locations. A knot of boys stood by the doors to the locker rooms, a group of girls gathered by the hallway to the restrooms, and a delegation of teachers hovered close to the refreshments, no doubt to keep an eye on the punch bowl. A local rock group stood on a makeshift stage under one of the basketball hoops, blaring their music at hypersonic volumes to a small group of enthusiastic dancers in the middle of the court.
As Terry looked around several people wandered past him. Some of the guys gave him strange looks, and he drew some giggles from the girls. One of the guys in his theatre class walked by and Terry stopped him. "Have you seen Paula?" he asked.
"Terry?" Ben said in astonishment. "Wow, I dig your costume, man." Ben reached out to feel his arm. "That's groovy. You can show your tits and Father Joe can't say anything 'cause you got a shirt on."
"Where's Paula?"
"Hunh? Over there." Ben pointed across the gym to where a strange looking boy in a leather jacket stood alone.
"Where?"
Ben pointed again. "That's him. James Dean."
Terry shrugged his shoulders and started across the floor to the stranger. As he walked by a group of guys, he drew a number of whistles. "Hey, Tinker Bell, where's the other fairies?" Bart Smith yelled, but Terry kept his head up and continued on.
As he drew close to the stranger he realized it was Paula. She was wearing a white t-shirt, tight jeans and a leather jacket, but what completed the picture was her hair. She had cut off the long black locks and had them greased back into a boyish style. There was a striking resemblance to James Dean. She slouched against the wall in a characteristic pose, needing only a cigarette dangling from her lower lip to complete the picture. She looked up as her friend approached. "Terry?"
"What did you do to your hair?" he asked.
"Cut it. What did you do to . . . your whole body?" Terry shrugged his shoulders. "Jim hated my costume," she said after a pause. "I thought he'd be surprised. He said he liked James Dean movies. We were here for about twenty minutes, then he snuck off with Mike Myers. He wouldn't even dance with me." For a moment Terry thought she might cry, but she looked more angry than hurt. "How did you get here anyway?" she asked, changing the subject.
"He picked me up," Terry confessed. "I think he's been drinking."
"Where is he?"
"In the parking lot."
Paula purposefully started across the gym, Terry following behind. They were almost to the door when Bart Smith and some of his friends noticed them. "Hey, it's Tutti!" Smith yelled. "Who's your boyfriend, Tutti?" Terry slumped, keeping his head down and walking faster for the door. Someone stepped close and pinched him on the hip. Another hand quickly reached out to grab one of his nipples through the sheer fabric. He was suddenly surrounded by a group of senior boys, taunting and jeering, making fun of his costume, his makeup, his hair.
Just as another hand grabbed his buttocks, the boys began to fly apart. Terry was instantly alone, watching Paula pound on Bart Smith with both fists. She had the boy on his back on the gym floor and she pommeled him as she straddled his chest. Suddenly the two were pulled apart by Coach McPherson and Father Joseph. The priest instantly turned to Terry who stood nearby. "I think you and this other ruffian had better leave," he said. "That costume is not appropriate to attend a school dance, and I don't think you should bring guests from other schools who pick fights. Coach if you'll please escort these two boys out of here."
McPherson gave Paula a rough shove toward the door and then reached over to grab Terry by the shoulder. "Come on, Tinker Bell. You and your little 'girl friend' are leaving." As the three of them exited through the side doors McPherson gave Terry and Paula each a violent shove into the parking lot. "Damn sick perverts," he growled.
Rather than upset, Paula seemed excited. "They didn't know who I was! They really thought I was a guy!"
"Let's get out of here," Terry said and grabbed his friend's hand, pulling her toward Jim's truck.
Once there they found Jim still sitting behind the wheel, drinking a can of beer. He turned his head and looked at them through an intoxicated haze. "I better drive," Paula said.
"Like hell you will, bitch," Jim shouted angrily as he sat up, tossing the half empty can out the window. "I don't even want you in my truck."
"How are we gonna get home?" Terry asked. The prospect of walking home in the dark, dressed like the two of them were did not appeal to him.
"Climb in, little buddy," Jim said to Terry. Paula stepped back, letting her friend climb in first. Jim started up the truck as Paula was about to climb in too. "No!" he shouted angrily. "Not you." The girl stepped back in stunned surprise. "I want a girl, not a guy. He looks more like a girl than you do." Jim then slammed the truck into reverse and it jerked back into the lot, almost knocking Paula down with the open door.
"Jim, I think we ought to . . ."
"Shut up," the driver said. He leaned over and fell across Terry's lap as he reached out and yanked the passenger door shut. He then struggled to sit back up, freely using Terry's body to push against. Once seated again behind the wheel he jerked the gear shift and popped the clutch, screeching out of the parking lot and leaving Paula far behind.
They drove off into the dark. Terry tried to talk to Jim, get him to stop or slow down, but the driver ignored his requests. As they turned onto a dark rural highway, Jim reached over and put his arm around Terry, pulling him close. "You're my good little buddy, ain't you?" Jim slurred.
"Yes, Jim," Terry replied. He was terribly frightened by the whole situation, and yet he felt a strange thrill to be pressed so closely against the real life body he had imagined in his fantasies.
Soon the truck turned and they bounced over a country lane, then turned again and came to a stop. "Okay, here we are," Jim said as he opened the door and staggered out, pulling his shirt off.
"Where?" Terry asked, climbing out of the cab. He suddenly saw that they were parked just inside a cemetery, large grey stones standing up all around them.
"Eternal Hope," Jim said as he leaned against a nearby tombstone. "This was where I planned to bring Paula tonight. Her surprise was she was going to pay me back for my favor. I gotta take a leak." He suddenly unzipped his fly and began to urinate on a nearby grave.
"I think maybe we better go back," Terry said. He was feeling more uncomfortably by the minute, and being alone with a sexy drunk in a cemetery at night wasn't helping matters.
"But you owe me big time, too," Jim said, his words still slurred by the alcohol. Come 'ere." Terry stepped closer to his friend. "I'm gonna get paid back tonight one way or the other," Jim said as he grabbed Terry by the back of the neck. "Kneel, little buddy."
Terry was really scared now, not knowing what his friend was trying to tell him. The pressure on his shoulder slowly forced him to the damp earth at Jim's feet. He looked up and realized Jim had not fastened his pants back. His penis rose in front of Terry's face. "Kiss it, little buddy. You know you want to. Now it's time to pay me back for all those rides. Kiss it nice and make it feel real good." Terry tried to back away, but Jim reached down and grabbed his head with both hands forcing his face into Jim's crotch. "That's it, Tutti. Your mouth or her cunt, makes no difference. Do it good and I might let you do it again." The tears streaked the makeup as they ran down Terry's cheeks. He was sobbing and gagging at the same time as his friend raped him. In the back of his mind, he felt he deserved this because of all the times he had masturbated to Jim's image. He knew he was only getting his just reward and even the tundra couldn't save him now. He knew his life would never be the same again.