This story is fiction. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. These stories have as their main character a sexually active gay teenager. If this is offensive to you, or if it is illegal in your area, or if you are under age, please leave now.
Constructive criticism is welcome on my e-mail.
Dermot Chapter 5, Two Lyles
Dermot did not feel like eating lunch. He knew he had given away way too much information to Sgt. Flaherty with his reaction to the name Uncle Steve. He was not sure whether the sergeant would be able to trace him from that bit, but he knew he had not fooled the policeman with his pretense that it was just the joke about being an uncle named Steve that freaked him out. Then, there was what Mrs. Harper said about worms. That still bothered him. Dermot worried rather than ate.
After his unsatisfactory lunch, Nurse Bailey was back to check up on him again. He decided to check out his information. After all, they may be playing psychological games with him, just to get him rattled so he would spill more information. And, he ruefully admitted to himself, it had worked.
"Nurse, can I ask you something?"
"You can ask. Maybe I'll answer," she responded. It was near the end of a long shift, and she was not in the mood for more of Dermot's adolescent bad manners.
"Is it true that I had worms when I came in here?"
That question took her by surprise. "I don't know. If you did, I'm sure you were treated for it. Is it important?"
"I'd really like to know. Is there any way you could check it out for me? I'd ask Dr. Shipley, but I guess he's gone for the day."
"Yes," she replied. "Except when he's on ER duty, he goes to his private practice after making his rounds in the morning. As far as I know, there's no reason not to tell you about your condition. Let me check your file." She looked at his chart hooked to the foot of his bed, then left the room.
About five minutes later, Nurse Bailey returned. "Yes, when you were admitted you were found to have worms. Fortunately, not tape worms or something equally difficult, but just the kind you find in rotting food. Most likely, you ate something that had larvae in it, and they hatched inside you."
Dermot was definitely squirming. This was grossing him out. The idea of having worms inside him made him feel nauseous. Somehow, from that time on, he knew that he would have to find some way to avoid the life he had been leading before. That gave him much to ponder. Of all the options Mrs. Harper mentioned, a foster home seemed the most promising, but who would want a boy who was gay, and who had been hustling his ass for months? Nothing seemed really to fit his situation.
To avoid thinking about it, he returned to his mystery story. This gal Dorothy Sayers wrote well. It took him a while to get into the story, though. Studying the information at the beginning of the book, he determined that the story was written (or at least first published) in 1928, so it wasn't exactly a period piece. The Peters book had been written about people who lived a long time before the book was written, but Sayers was writing about her own times. Was that better or worse? Do we understand our own times better than some historic period, or are we too involved in it to get a true picture? At this point, Dermot had no idea about the solution to the mystery, but he found the character of George Fentiman intriguing. Shell shock in World War I. Have to check that out some how. Is the way Sayers depicts George accurate? Have to ask Doc Shipley. Such musings made the early afternoon slip away painlessly.
It was after three when Dermot heard those jaunty footsteps in the corridor again, and looked up to welcome Lando. That boy seemed to smile almost all the time. It made Dermot feel better just to see him.
"Hi, Dermot."
"Hi, yourself. What's up?"
"Just got out of school. I've got to begin with an apology. I don't have ROMEO AND JULIET with me. Mom had trouble getting me out of bed this morning, and I rushed off to school without it."
"That's it, you fucking idiot. Blame it on your mother," Dermot responded. His words were harsh, but he was grinning as he said them, so Lando knew from the outset that they were on solid ground.
"I'll bring it tomorrow, I promise. Mea culpa."
"What's that?"
"What's what?"
"The Mia cupa bit?"
"Mea culpa, birdbrain. It's Latin. Means 'my fault.' Thought everybody knew that."
"Never studied any Latin."
"Still, you run across it lots of places."
"Okay, I'm a total idiot. What other sunshine have you come to sprinkle on my life?"
"That," Lando immediately noted, "is a mixed metaphor. Sunshine doesn't sprinkle. Rain sprinkles, maybe. Sunshine beams, or shines, or ...."
"Yeah, sunshine shines. What kind of critic are you anyway?" Dermot complained. "If you can't do any better than that, I'll have to get a better one."
"Mea culpa," Lando repeated, with a sparkle in his eye.
Dermot threw his pillow at him. Lando ducked. Laughing, he retrieved the pillow, then took a seat next to Dermot's bed.
"So, how 're you getting along?" he asked.
"So so. I made a big mistake this morning," Dermot admitted.
"You? Make a mistake? Impossible! What kind of idiocy did you pull?"
"Turns out Sgt. Flaherty's first name is Steve. He was kind of joking, and called himself Uncle Steve, and I lost it. I mean, I totally freaked out. He knows I have an Uncle Steve now. The man is not stupid."
Lando considered his response. "You know, sooner or later they'll find out. If they keep poking, I mean. Your only hope is that they catch the guys who beat you up soon, and then decide to drop any other matters."
"Maybe. Sgt. Flaherty said they had a couple of leads."
"Even if they find your assailants, that still doesn't solve the problem of what will happen with you when you're released from the hospital," Lando pointed out.
"Yeah, I know. I had another visitor this morning. A Mrs. Harper from Social Services. Turns out she's Dr. Shipley's sister, and I ticked her off, too."
"Brilliant, bozo!"
"Thanks a lot. Like I don't know that. Anyway, before I screwed up, she told me about a couple of options. Like this place called Boys Haven."
"Yeah. I know about that. Been there."
"You? What were you doing in Boys Haven?"
"Not IN Boys Haven, exactly. Went out with Dad. He's on the Board. Got to meet some of the boys. There was this really cute guy named Corney," Lando said with a smirk.
"You're shitting me. Nobody is named Corney," Dermot asserted.
"Well, actually, he was named Cornelius. If you were named Cornelius, what would you be called?"
"I wouldn't be named Cornelius in the first place if I had any say about it. If I had a name like that, I think I'd opt for Butch, or Skip, or Sonny."
"Maybe. But this guy was called Corney. And he was cute."
"Letch."
Lando grinned. He continued, "We talked while my dad was doing some business. From what he told me, it's a pretty decent place."
"Yeah, but it's Catholic ... oh, shit! I forgot, you are too." Dermot anguished.
"True. You'll just have to overcome your prejudices."
"I've got damn good reasons for my prejudices," Dermot insisted. "Besides, how can you be gay and Catholic? Aren't you afraid of going to hell?"
"Not really. Not any more. Back a few years ago, when I first came to grips with being gay, it was a real problem for me, but I talked it over with my dad and Father Schiller, and I kind of worked it out."
"You talked it over with your dad? You mean he knows?"
"Oh yeah. Dad definitely knows. So does my mom, and my older brother. I'm not sure about Emily. She's kind of young for such things," Lando said reflectively.
"I can't imagine telling an adult I'm gay. I mean, a family member, or something, you know," Dermot wondered.
"From what you told me yesterday, I can see why. But not everybody is like your Uncle Steve."
"How did your dad take it?"
"Well, he was not exactly overjoyed. We talked a lot, over a period of a couple of months. I went to him first, you know. Then, he sent me to talk to Father Schiller, and I saw a psychologist for two or three months, and I talked with Dad about what they said, and came to the conclusion I really was gay, not just horny or going through some phase like puberty or something. And, like I said, we kind of worked it out with being Catholic, and so Dad just said something like, [Lando adopted a deep voice to mimic his father] 'Well, Lando, I guess that's the way God wanted you, so who am I to complain. I love you, and I'll be here whenever you need me.' That was good to know, 'cause I had a few rough times at school, and like that, you know."
Dermot giggled at Lando's impression of his father. "I guess. But, man, that's awesome! I always wondered what my dad would have said, if he had lived, you know. I always kind of figured it was good that he never knew, 'cause that way I could always remember him in a good way. I kind of thought if he found out I was gay, he might have thrown me out, like Uncle Steve did."
"Naw, man. Not your dad. Don't think that. Like I said, not everybody is a horse's ass like your Uncle Steve."
"Maybe you're right. That's something to think about. I like that idea."
"Dad says to tell you he's sorry he neglected you yesterday, and he'll be around this evening after dinner," Lando reported.
"Do you think it's safe for me to tell your dad about me being gay?"
"Oh, he knows. I told him."
"You did?"
"Well, that wasn't one of the things you asked me not to mention. All you said was not to say anything about your uncle or cousin. And I didn't."
"What else did you tell your dad?" Dermot wanted to know.
"Um, let's see. I told him about your haircut. And about ROMEO AND JULIET. And how you like history and wanted to be a history teacher. And about wanting to watch the movie with me and admire Romeo's ass."
"You didn't!"
Lando giggled. "Actually, I did. Dad kind of squirmed about that. He was kind of cute."
"You're a total pervert. I think you get off thinking about your father," Dermot joshed.
"Not really," Lando replied seriously. "I mean, I admire my dad a lot, and I really love him. He's always been there when I needed it. Like when I was struggling with my sexual identity. And I wish he were home more, and we could do more things together. And Dad's pretty hot, for an old guy. But, geesh! He's my dad. I kind of think doing anything sexual with him would ruin the whole thing. You have a dirty mind, Dermot."
"Yeah, I guess I do. I'm sorry. Since my only real human contacts for the past nine months have been sexual ones, I guess I really do have a twisted outlook. I ... Yuck. What you said made me think of how I would feel about sex with my dad. I'm sorry I said that. It made me feel gross when I thought of that."
"Okay. We can agree that that's definitely off limits, okay. Let's change the subject."
"Like yesterday. How was school?" Dermot asked.
"Good. I like school pretty much. I have some good friends at school. In fact, I'm going to be hanging out after dinner with a bunch of friends."
"Oh, ho! Something hot?"
"No, pervert! Just hanging out. In fact, most of the people I'll see this evening are definitely straight."
"You've got straight friends?"
"Yes. Definitely. I've got female friends, too. Most of my male friends are straight. There are more straight guys out there than gays. Some of these guys have been my friends since like forever."
"Do they know you're gay?"
Lando thought about that. "Well, I never made a public announcement, you know. Some how, it never occurred to me to ask the Principal for a few minutes on the public address system. I told two guys I've known forever, 'cause they kept on me about getting a girlfriend. And I told my best female friend, 'cause she kept trying to fix me up with some of her friends. I'm not real sure whether the others know or not. If they ask, though, I'll tell them."
Dermot wondered at Lando's self assurance, his comfort with himself. "I don't have any friends," he said quietly.
"Yes you do. I'm your friend," Lando replied softly but definitely.
Dermot grinned. "Thanks. Um, you never had anyone hassle you at school?"
"I didn't say that. There have been a few unpleasant incidents. Another of my friends that I told, you know, won't have anything to do with me now. He just avoids me. And one of the guys on the JROTC rifle team found out somehow, and makes it his business to make anti-gay remarks. It's against school rules, but he never does it when there's a teacher around."
"Yeah, we had rules about tolerance and diversity, too, but I don't think anyone took them seriously."
"At Baltimore, you can get expelled for serious violations of those rules, but they have to catch you at it."
"Hey, I just thought of something I've always wondered about. How come you guys' school is named for a city?"
"It's not, dum dum. It's named for George Calvert, Lord Baltimore. I thought you were interested in history."
"Oh, yeah. Founded Maryland. Named for Jesus's mother. Catholic colony. I just never made the connection."
"Your history stinks. George had the idea, but died before the colony got started. Maryland was named for Queen Henrietta Maria, not for the Blessed Mother. And it was never a Catholic colony, if by that you mean the Catholic Church was made official or anything, or most of the settlers were Catholic."
"You're kidding! I always heard it my way!"
"Maybe you always heard it that way, but it's still wrong. Now I know what I'll bring along with the movie tomorrow. There's a book about this. I forgot the title, but we have it at home, and my history teacher talked about this earlier this year, when we were doing the colonial period in our American History class."
"Sounds good. I do like reading about history. And I don't mind learning new things at all, even if they do conflict with what I thought I knew."
"Good man." Then Lando looked at his watch. "Sorry, Dermot, but I've got to go. Got to take my sister to the store to get something for a party she's going to tomorrow, and then dinner and all. But Dad will be in to see you later, and I'll be back tomorrow. With the movie and book."
"Thanks for coming by, Lando. You've given me a lot to think about. Especially about your dad, and all. I appreciate it."
Dermot opened THE UNPLEASANTNESS AT THE BELLONA CLUB, the mystery by Dorothy Sayers, to the place where he had left off before, but he never got past the first paragraph. His mind was too busy digesting the information he had received from Lando. It must be great to have parents, and parents who accepted who you were, even if, as Lando said, his dad was not overjoyed at finding that his son was gay. The important thing was, he knew, and he accepted it. Dermot daydreamed about having his own father back, and being accepted. It gave him a warm feeling, so much that he was almost hugging himself, thinking about his father hugging him.
This pleasant episode was shattered by the arrival of little Nurse Chandravari, who informed him that it was almost time for his dinner. He wrinkled his nose, which made her giggle in a tinkling sort of way. Dermot needed to go to the bathroom, and he needed Nurse Chandravari to help him out of bed and into a wheel chair. When they arrived across his room at the entrance to the bathroom, however, he firmly rejected her attempt to help him any further. He could make it from there today. She was to stay put unless he yelled or she heard a loud thud, as though he had fallen. It was embarrassing enough to have had that dratted sponge bath. Maybe he could do that for himself as well next time.
As Dermot sat on the toilet (he could not stand unless he did so on one foot, which did not seem like a good idea), he began thinking about Lando coming out to his father again. As he did, he found himself getting hard. When he noticed that, it occurred to him that he had not cum in a week, the longest he had gone in a very long time. Of course, he was unconscious for three days, but still ....
Scooting back on the toilet so he could reach his cock, Dermot used his left hand to begin giving himself a little relief. This is so damn awkward, he thought, but still, he felt the necessity pressing on him. He stroked himself, grateful that his assailants had not been able to damage what he called his working gear. It did not take long to get totally hard, but then he seemed to reach a plateau, and not be able to move on. He knew he could not stay in there forever. He began stroking almost frantically. It would be so not cool if the nurse came in while he was engaged in pleasuring himself.
I wonder, he thought, if Lando ever has this problem, or if he is getting off with one of his gay friends. At the thought of Lando, the image of the boy took shape in his mind, with that magical smile of his. That did it. Dermot began to cum, shooting load after load of hot sperm into the toilet bowl. He almost passed out with the intensity of the orgasm.
Although he was unaware of it, he must have made some kind of noise as well, because Nurse Chandravari knocked loudly on the door, demanding, "Are you all right Mr. Dermot? Are you all right?"
"Yeah. I'll just be another minute," Dermot managed between ragged breaths.
Slowly, his breathing returned to normal. He cleaned himself up, leveraged himself back into his wheel chair, and flushed. Then he made his way over to the sink. There he stood up, holding on to the edge of the sink, so he was able to wash his hands, and even get a look at himself in a mirror. He looked red in the face. Even redder because of the white bandages. Oh, well, can't delay any longer. He sat back down, turned his wheel chair around, and pushed a button, which opened the door. Nurse Chandravari was standing right there, obviously pleased that he had not fallen in.
Dermot managed to get back into bed with only minimal help from the nurse. However, she insisted on taking his temperature, saying he looked flushed. That only made him more so. His dinner was set before him, but his attention was not on that. Rather, he was focused on what had happened in the restroom. He could not remember ever having an orgasm as powerful as that one. He could not honestly dismiss it as a consequence of his unwonted celibacy for the past week, either. It was the image of Lando which pulled his trigger. But just what did that mean? He told Lando if he ever had a really great sexual experience, he would tell him, but he could not tell him about this. That would be too blush making.
Without realizing it, Dermot had finished his dinner. He was still musing on the related subjects of Lando and his late father - related in his mind, anyway. Then he became aware of footsteps in the corridor again. Mr. Lyle entered his room.
"Hello, Dermot. Sorry I couldn't get by to see you yesterday. How are you?"
"Okay, I guess. You don't have to come see me, you know."
"Oh, but I want to see you. I enjoy your company," Mr. Lyle asserted.
Dermot smiled. "Yeah, I know. Lando told me you were trying to figure me out. It ain't going to be easy. I haven't figured me out yet, and I've been working on it for years."
Walt Lyle smiled. "Lando told me about his visits with you. He also told me you told him some stuff he could not repeat."
Dermot chuckled. "I'm just giving my age peer a boost in the Sweeps."
"Huh? What's that about?"
"Lando said if he came home with more information about me than you did, he won the Dermot Sweepstakes, so I figured I'd give him a little edge. We harassed teens have got to stick together."
Walt laughed. "Harassed teens, huh? More like it's you teens harassing us poor parents. I take it you and Lando got on pretty well."
"Yeah," Dermot confirmed. "We hit it off right away. Lando told me he's gay, too. It is so cool he can be open about that with you."
"Lando told me you were gay, but I kind of figured that anyway, or at least were having sex with men, from what we might call circumstantial evidence at the time I found you. And, as you and Lando are about the same age, I thought you might get along with each other."
"He told me he was sent to worm information out of me," Dermot chuckled.
"Oh, he told you that, did he? Fine spy he makes," Walt Lyle complained.
"He did tell you some of the other stuff we talked about, according to what he told me this afternoon."
"Yes, he did. He mentioned your interest in history. I'll make sure you have plenty of reading along those lines. When I asked him whether he had discovered anything about your family, he clammed up, so I'm assuming that's what you told him not to share."
"Un-huh."
"I'm going to make a guess here, and maybe you'll tell me whether I'm in the right ball park. You came out to your ... wouldn't be father. I got the distinct impression from my last visit that your father had been killed in the war. Well, mother, or whoever you were living with. And you were not well received. Maybe thrown out, or made so unhappy you ran away."
Dermot was looking distinctly uncomfortable during this recitation.
"As your lawyer, I can tell you a few things. If you were thrown out, we can take some kind of action. Your legal guardian is responsible for you until you're eighteen. But, if you ran away, that's a different story. It's illegal to assist a run-away. What's wrong?"
Dermot was squirming and looking very uneasy by this time.
Very seriously, he said, "I didn't run away. But, I tell you this - and I mean it as seriously as I can - if you do find where I came from, and send me back, I'll kill myself."
Walt Lyle knew better than to ignore a statement like this, or to try to dismiss it with a blithe statement like, 'Oh, you don't really mean that.' He studied Dermot for a moment, and convinced himself that Dermot did mean it.
"It must have been hell," he said quietly.
"There are parts of it I did not tell Lando. I don't want to even think about it. But I will NOT go back. You can count on that," Dermot said with determination.
"I can see that you mean it, Dermot. I don't know what we can work out, but I will see to it that you do not go back to where you came from, and you will not go back out on the streets. I promise," Walt said.
Dermot studied him in turn. "I think you mean it. But I don't know what to do. Mrs. Harper, the woman from Social Services, said something about a foster home, but nobody would want a gay guy who's been selling his ass for months."
"You might be surprised," Walt said. "Don't run yourself down. I know, and I suspect Mrs. Harper knows, you were not out on the streets because you want to be. But we'll have to look into all the options."
"You've been really great, Mr. Lyle. Not just calling 9-1-1 and all, but coming to see me, and sending Lando, too. I appreciate it."
"I think Lando is enjoying his role in all this, too. I certainly did not have to pressure him to get him to come visit you. I understand he's coming back tomorrow with a film version of ROMEO AND JULIET and John Krugler's book on the Lords Baltimore."
"He couldn't remember the title or author of the book, but that sounds right. But, there's something I thought of this morning I want to ask you about, if we can change the topic, here."
"Sure. What's on your mind?" Walt agreed.
"I told Sgt. Flaherty that I remembered one of the guys, when they were beating on me, calling me the appellant, and then saying 'motion denied.' That's lawyer talk, right?" Dermot enquired.
"It's legal jargon. That doesn't necessarily mean the guy was a lawyer. You could pick it up watching some of those courtroom dramas on television."
"Yeah, but he could be a lawyer, or maybe a law student at the University," Dermot insisted.
"Yes, he could. Do you have any other reason for thinking so?"
"Nothing I can put my finger on. But there was something about the way those guys talked. They were educated. They were not off the streets, even though they used a lot of street language, and tried to sound tough. But it was like something they had rehearsed, not the way they always talked."
"Maybe trying to disguise the way they usually spoke," Walt suggested.
"Maybe. I just don't know."
"You say you told Sgt. Flaherty about this?"
"Yeah. This morning."
"I'll speak to him. And, if you think of anything else, be sure to let us know."
"I will, and thanks, Mr. Lyle," Dermot promised.
Walt Lyle got up to leave, saying he would be back soon. Dermot watched him go, and wondered whether Lando would be listening in when he consulted with Sgt. Flaherty this time.