Do Unto Others

PART 3

In several discussions about our future together, Jason would imply or explicitly suggest that we forego the abstinence that I had imposed on our relationship. In each case I remained firm in my reluctance although it was increasingly difficult to do so because my resolve was fading. One reason was, frankly, lust; I yearned to enjoy the pleasures of sex, something that I had always wanted but loving a willing and eager partner significantly elevated my hunger for sex. Another was more deep-seated; I wanted to strengthen our connection through intimacy. Yet another was that my diminishing doubts about whether Jason had the emotional maturity to commit to a permanent relationship. Arguing against relaxing my resolve was the potential risk of harming Jason and the very real risk being discovered and jeopardizing my career. The push and pull recurrently dominated my thinking.

In late January, the beginning of Jason's second semester of his sophomore year, circumstances would unexpectedly change and threaten to destroy my resolve.

Jason stopped by my house late one Saturday afternoon, which was not unusual and was always welcome. However, his mood was unusual. Instead of an enthusiastic greeting, he said, "Jerry. I've got a problem. Can we talk?"

I invited him in as I grew increasingly concerned that he seemed more despondent than merely upset. We sat at the kitchen table (where we had had many serious discussions with this one promising to be another). I asked him what the problem was and he explained while becoming more distraught.

His father, who had been out of work for almost a year, had had no success in securing employment. He had been the manager in a local accounting firm that was bought by a larger, regional firm. In the reorganization, half the local employees were laid off, Jason's father among them. He had hoped to find another job within commuting distance and had several interviews but no job offers. He expanded his search after finally accepting the fact that relocation, which both he and his wife found unappealing, was the only option. That much I already knew.

Jason's explanation began with the fact that his father had received an attractive offer from a large company three hundred miles away in Seattle and had accepted it. He broke the news to Jason the previous evening. Jason's first reaction was relief that his father had found a job, a very good job. But that was immediately replaced with concern and then worry about school. His father suggested transferring to another college and argued that he could now afford the tuition and other school expenses.

"I don't know what to do, Jerry," he said as tears began to form in his eyes. I don't want to leave you. And I can't tell my parents that. They'd want to know why. If I tell them that I'm gay and in love with you ... I just don't want to think about what they would do -- probably throw me out of the house or refuse to pay for the rest of my college. At a minimum, it would hurt them deeply and damage or completely destroy my relationship with them. I don't want that because I love them. I want to stay here. Finish school here. When I graduate, we can be together but I can't stand the thought of moving and losing you. And don't tell me I wouldn't! I know that if we separate now, there's a good chance that we'll never get back together. So you see my dilemma. I don't want to move and change schools but there's no way to avoid it."

Although he fought bravely to stem his tears, he lost the battle and broke down crying.

I moved into a chair next to his, put my arm over his shoulder, and said, "We'll figure something out, Jason." I had no ideas; all I had was hope that we could resolve the dilemma.

He buried his head into my shoulder and sobbed. I felt like crying as well, mostly because the one I loved was in such pain. We hugged each other for several minutes while Jason regained control and I tried vainly to come up with a solution to his problem. No, not `his' problem, but ours! We were a couple; he was an integral part of my life; his problem was my problem.

"First of all, Jason, let me ask a question. Perhaps then I can suggest what we can do. And I mean `we' because I don't want you to move away any more than you want to. When does your dad want to move?"

"He starts work a week from now but will live in a furnished apartment until he can sell our house, pack up, and move. In the meantime, he'll be looking for a house in Seattle to buy. I don't know how long that will take. Our house might sell right away or it might be on the market for months. My mom has talked about quitting her job, putting our furniture in storage, and leaving the empty house to the realtor. Dad wants her to join him right away so they can look for a new house together. That could mean there's not much time."

"No," I agreed. "That would not be much time. It seems to make sense to me that you finish the semester here even if your parents move right away. I think they would agree to that. One possibility is that you could stay in your house while it's for sale. That might buy us more time to come up with a plan. I doubt you could find space in the dorm at school in the middle of the term -- I understand there's already a long waiting list -- so that's not a possibility. Finding a suitable apartment for you here would be difficult and a lot of extra expense. But whether your mom moves right away or not, it would seem that you'll be here for the rest of the school year. The only unknown is where you will live if the house is sold before then."

We both had the same thought but he voiced it first although hesitantly. "I could maybe ... that is if it's okay with you ... stay with you. And before you object, let me assure you I wouldn't share your bed. I'll sleep on the couch and behave myself."

"Not the best idea, Jason. I want to help you and I WILL help you but we agreed that we must be extremely careful not to arouse suspicion. At least until it is safer. Right now, you're still my student. To a lot of nosey people, it would create a false impression. That might cause even bigger problems."

Jason look disappointed but said, "I suppose you're right. And who knows what might happen. I don't know if I could stand trying to sleep knowing you're in the next room. God, Jerry! I want you so much!"

"I want you just as much, my love. But we'll just have to think of some other way. I know it's hard -- and I don't mean your penis! -- but we'll have to tough it out for a while longer."

"It is hard," Jason grinned. "And I do mean my penis." He laughed and I was pleased to see that his mood had improved enough to joke.

We talked for another half hour in which we explored several options, concluding that, for the time being, the best option was to wait and see ... wait until his parents decided what they were going to do and hope that Jason could live in his house until the end of the school year or until the house was sold.

Then Jason had an idea. "My parents already have a good opinion of you because of the help you've given me in school. Suppose we somehow arrange a way for them to meet you. I know they would like you even more. Then, if it comes to that, they would feel much better about my moving in with you.

I was still troubled by the prospect of Jason's moving in with me but had to admit that, as a contingency plan, his idea made sense. "Okay," I said. "The most desirable option is for you to live in your house until at least the end of the school year. Perhaps by then, we'll have a plan for you to finish school here and avoid the appearance of inappropriate behavior. Let me know how you would like to introduce me to your parents."

His broad grin was a stark contrast to the way he had arrived. I had given him hope. I had given us both hope. But could we figure out a way to ensure he stayed here in school for another two years?

We shared a kiss before he left in a much better mood than when he arrived.

Jason called me that evening to suggest that we invent an excuse for me to meet his parents soon because his dad was leaving within a day or two to find an apartment. "It'll have to be tomorrow," Jason said. "And I have a plan. Before dad got laid off, we would have brunch every Sunday morning after church. To celebrate his new job, he says we're going to do it again tomorrow. I was thinking that if you just happened to stop by at the same time, I could introduce you to them. With luck, they'll even invite you to join us rather than eating alone. That will give everybody a chance to get better acquainted. Do you think it will work? Are you willing?"

"Sounds reasonable enough, Jason. What time should I be there?"

"Usually just before eleven. Maybe you could wait in the parking lot until you see us arrive. We'll be in a white Honda Accord. If you come in right after us, and happen to mention that you're alone, I'm thinking dad will invite you to join us at our table."

"Sounds like you've got the script all worked out," I joked.

"Not really. We'll have to ad lib a lot of it. But I'm sure it will turn out all right. Gotta go now. See ya tomorrow. Love ya. Bye."

As Jason had predicted, the brunch was a success. Mr. and Mrs. Hendricks were exceptionally friendly and insisted that I join them. They were as profuse in their appreciation for what I had done for Jason as I was in praising his intelligence, motivation, and attitude. I managed to slip in a few comments that would possibly support his completing a degree at the college. For example: "I look forward to sitting with the faculty and seeing Jason graduate with high honors." I couldn't be sure, however, that those statements made any impact.

No mention was made of the family's impending move and I certainly didn't want to bring up the subject because I thought I wasn't supposed to know about it. Jason slipped it into the conversation with impeccable timing. "Dad just got a terrific job in Seattle. Somebody finally recognized his talent."

"That's wonderful," I enthused. "Congratulations."

"Yes," his father said. "I'm going up to Seattle this week to find an apartment. Linda will come with me and stay a few days to get the lay of the land. I start work the following week. I'm hoping to sell my house here right away so Linda and Jason can join me."

"Oh!" I said, trying not to show too much concern. "How soon will that be?"

"The sooner the better," Mr. Hendricks replied.

"Would that be before the end of the school year?" I asked.

Mr. Hendricks frowned. "We have to work that out ... if it happens that soon."

I paused, pretending to think deeply when, in fact, I knew exactly what I was going to say. I hadn't even been able to tell Jason. "Forgive my boldness for offering advice when it's not asked for but I think it would be a mistake to pull Jason out of school in the middle of the term. He would lose a full semester's credits. Not to mention the tuition he's worked so hard to earn. Moreover, another college may not honor the credits from all the courses he has completed here. That could delay his graduation by as much as a full year."

Mrs. Hendricks joined in, "But where would he stay until the end of the school year? Who would look out for him?"

"Well," I replied. "Let me think a minute." I didn't have to think but had to appear as though I did. "Here's an idea. He could stay with me. He would have to bunk on the sofa-bed in the living room. It won't be as convenient and comfortable as what he has now but it will allow him to finish the school year. And I'll look after him, make sure he does his homework, doesn't stay out late at night or get into trouble ... although knowing Jason as well as I do, he won't need any supervision. As I said before, he's bright and responsible -- a rare combination for his generation, which, by the way, is a credit to you both for raising such an admirable son."

Jason's parents seemed pleased and grateful for the offer. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that Jason was fighting to contain his elation. I hoped his parents didn't notice that.

After a moment's reflection, Mr. Hendricks said, "That is extraordinarily generous of you, Dr. Collins. And, if I may say, highly unusual. I must ask you a question that's been on my mind since you began helping my son. Why are you doing this?"

"That's a fair question, Mr. Hendricks. And there's a simple answer. Number one, I see the extraordinary potential in a young scholar who, given the opportunity, is bound to become a success in his career and in his life. Number two is more personal. I benefitted from the help of many people to get where I am today and I promised myself to pay that debt by helping others. I'm not a very religious man but I firmly believe in the Golden Rule: Do unto others."

Both of Jason's parents looked stunned, which confused me until his father said, "How odd you should say that. That was the theme of the pastor's sermon in church this morning."

Mrs. Hendricks turned to her husband and said, "I think we've resolved one of the concerns in our move, dear." Turning to me, she added, "I can't thank you enough. God bless you."

"We've forgotten something," I said with mock alarm. I had everyone's full attention. "We haven't heard from Jason. I think he has every right to accept or not accept the invitation."

Jason's beaming smile and enthusiastic response ("Thanks, Dr. Collins") was exactly the response I expected. I wanted, with my inclusion of him, to send a message to one I loved: we're partners and you are important.' I also wanted to send a message to his parents: their son is a young adult who deserves the freedom to make his own decisions.'

Jason exceeded my already high regard for his intelligence by sending two messages with one statement, "I promise to behave myself and not be any trouble to you." His parents heard that he would be responsible. I heard that he would not pressure me for premature sex.

As I left the restaurant, I couldn't believe that everything had turned out so well. I'm sure Jason felt the same way. He and I had manipulated the situation and the conversation. I had told the truth -- not the whole truth but I felt no guilt. The day would surely come when Jason and I would have to tell his parents the whole truth but we had plenty of time to plan how to do that with minimal pain.

The following week, I made an appointment to speak to the Department Chairman.

I began the discussion by saying, "Bob, I have a potentially delicate situation that may or may not happen and I felt I should give you a heads up." He listened as I explained why Jason might be moving into my house for at least the remainder of the semester. I concluded with, "I know it's unusual but it's the only way to ensure that Jason completes the semester. Do you have a problem with that?"

His hesitation in answering concerned me as much as the worried expression on his face. Finally, he said, "Obviously, Jerry, I must evaluate the situation in light of the allegations that were previously made about your relationship with the young man. Therefore, I am compelled to ask a very personal question and I would appreciate a completely honest answer. Exactly what is the nature of your relationship to Jason Hendricks?"

He stared at me. I suddenly realized that I had squirmed, which could have been proof enough that the relationship was more than I had admitted. I faced an agonizing dilemma: to lie (with little chance of successfully exonerating myself) or come out to him (something I had, over many years, resisted to the point of it being second nature).

My hesitation must have gone on longer than I realized because he said impatiently, "Well?"

"You've asked for the truth. I'll tell you the truth although it is painful to do so. I love Jason. Not as a student, not like a son or brother, but as someone I want to spend my life with. He has repeatedly expressed the same kind of love for me. Yes, both he and I are gay. However, let me add, with complete honesty, that there has been no sexual contact between us. None at all. Nor will there be as long as he's a student in this college and I'm on the faculty. In return for my honesty, I'd like to ask a favor, one that I hope you are able to grant. Aside from Jason, you're the only person who knows that I'm gay or the nature of my relationship to him ... a very chaste relationship, I must emphasize. I hope you will do me the favor of keeping the secret."

I couldn't interpret his expression, which boosted my anxiety level. His next question boosted it further: "Chaste? You mean that?"

"Absolutely. We kiss. Rarely and always in private. He wants more. I want more. But I've been firm in my insistence that there be no sex. He has come to accept that. And it hasn't diminished our love for each other."

"And if he moves into your house?"

"The rules will not change. There will be no sex."

"Maybe I shouldn't," he said, "but I believe you. And I respect you even more. For your abstinence and for your honesty. I expect you to let me know if the situation changes."

"Count on it," I replied, still not sure of what he would or would not do with the information.

"Now," he said. "The official conversation is over. But I want to say more to you as a valued member of the department and, I hope, as a friend." A broad smile erupted on his face for the first time in our meeting. "You're going to make a splendid couple and I wish you nothing but happiness."

The heavy burden of anxiety lifted off me. I was so relieved and happy I almost cried. All I could manage to say was "Thank you."

I stood to leave. He also stood and walked with me to the door. "Just one more thing," he said. "You said you had additional information about Charlie Thompson's sudden resignation. I don't suppose you'd be willing to share that with me?"

"Well, he's gone now so I don't suppose there's any harm in telling you. He attempted a sexual assault on Jason. I must point out that it was unexpected and totally unwelcome. He was the aggressor and Jason was -- or could have been -- the victim. I also had documentation of his threats against both me and Jason. He chose to leave rather than face the consequences of his inexcusable behavior."

"I see," he mused. "I rather expected it involved Jason. But I don't think I want to know your role in how it turned out. But let me just say before you leave ... as long as we're talking unofficially as friends ... Jason will be a Junior next year, taking upper level courses taught by senior faculty. That means he won't be your student and ... well ... perhaps I've said enough."

"Thank you again, Bob. I'll just say that I plan to continue mentoring a promising young man."

Three weeks later, the Hendrick's house was sold, Mrs. Hendricks moved to Seattle to join her husband, and Jason moved in with me. I was prepared. I had moved my computer and desk, my files, and my books into the living room, which became very crowded. I bought a bed, night stand, and small desk with a chair to put in the second bedroom that had been my office and was to be his bedroom. He protested that he was causing me trouble and expense but I explained that he needed a private room not only for personal space but to ward against the possibility, however remote, that someone would visit and become suspicious -- or worse, trigger an investigation into our living arrangement. Jason's parents insisted on sending money to me roughly equivalent to room and board at the college but I declined. Eventually, however, I had to compromise on a nominal amount to pay for the extra groceries.

It worked out quite well. We were both delighted to spend time together even though he was busy with homework and I busied myself with research or grading student work. The only disappointment was bedtime. Each of us wanted to share one bed, to express our love for each other, and experience -- for the first time -- the joy of sexual union. Jason was very good about respecting my prohibition of sex. He never asked for it, never implied a suggestion, nor even hinted that he wanted to do more than occasional kissing. Frequently, however, I read longing and disappointment in his face as we parted, each to our own bedroom. I had similar feelings. Being with him for prolonged periods on a daily basis was a joy but being without him at night was torture. On multiple occasions, I barely succeeded in controlling my urges.

Another trying time for me was when Jason went to Todd's house in the evening. I knew they were good friends. I accepted the explanation that they would be studying or `hanging out' but the memory of what appeared to be a more serious attachment -- for which there was no conclusive proof -- bothered me. If I refused him sex, would he secretly get it elsewhere? I was not completely successful in convincing myself that he had a right to have a friend and had to remind myself to trust him.

One evening when he came home from Todd's house, I casually asked, "Have a good time?"

"Yeah," he said exuberantly. "We got the chemistry assignment done and had time left to play a video game -- Alien Invasion. It was fun but I'm not sure I want a game system. It could become addictive. Okay if I get some milk and cookies? Do you want anything?"

"Sure," I said. "Bring me some. You can tell me about your day as we snack."

He finished his milk and cookies in record time and immediately snuggled up against me. Putting aside my own snack, I wrapped an arm over his shoulders.

We sat quietly for a time before I had the courage to say, "You like Todd a lot, don't you."

"Yeah. He's cool."

A few moments later, he sat bolt upright, looked at me seriously, and said, "Are you upset that I spend time with him?"

"No, Jason. You have a right to have friends."

"Come on, Jerry. Be honest with me. I remember the first time you talked to me about Todd. Do you? You said it was okay if I got a little sex on the side while waiting for you. Are you worried that I would cheat on you? I thought I made it clear before that I would never do that." He sounded decidedly indignant.

"I remember," I said. "And I trust you. I guess it's just that I miss you when you're not here. I miss you even more since you came to stay with me. And I worry. I worry about refusing to have sex with you. I worry that I'm being unfair to you. I'm being silly. Please forgive me."

"I know you want to as much as I do but I understand your reasons. You have to believe me. I will still be a virgin when we finally do have sex."

"Come here, my love," I said as I pulled him into a passionate kiss that he returned with equal vigor.

We snuggled for a time. I was ashamed of worrying about his friendship with Todd and letting myself get jealous for no justifiable reason.

"It's late," I said. "But I want to tell you something before we go to our separate bedrooms. When I told the Department Chair that you might be moving in, he asked me point blank about my relationship with you. I had to be honest and tell him that we're gay and in love."

`YOU DIDN'T!" he exclaimed in panic.

"Hold on. He promised to keep the secret and I'm confident he will. I also told him, quite emphatically, that there had been no sex and there wouldn't be as long as you were a student and I was on the faculty. He said we would be a great couple and he wished us happiness. Now here's the interesting part. As I was leaving, he said that next year, as a junior, you would be in upper level classes and I would not be your teacher. He couldn't say it outright but the meaning was clear. After this semester, when you're no longer in any of my classes, we're free to do what we want."

"REALLY?" he almost screamed. "You really mean it? We can finally be a real couple?"

"It's true, my love. We'll still have to be very careful but not when we're alone in the house ... or in bed. Can you wait a few more weeks?"

Jason attacked me with a breath-robbing hug and buried his head into my shoulder. "I love you more every day, Jerry. I can't wait. I mean yes, I can wait. I mean ... oh shit! You know what I mean. I love you!"

The remainder of the semester passed slowly for both of us because we both were eager to complete our partnership. Strangely, Jason was spending less time with Todd even though I encouraged him to do so. His response: "Todd's a friend. I like him. But I won't be his friend when he finds out I'm gay. He hates fags almost as much as my parents do. So what's the point of even trying to keep him as my friend?" I suggested that he enjoy the friendship for as long as possible and he eventually saw the logic in that and he stopped making excuses to Todd for not visiting.

Through a series of telephone conversations with his parents, Jason was able to convince them that it would be unwise to transfer schools and he should complete his degree here. The compromise they reached was that he would spend holidays and at least part of the summer with them in Seattle. In a separate conversation with his parents, I asked if it would be all right to take him with me on vacation, including fishing in the Gulf of Mexico, as soon as school let out in June. After some persuasion and a promise that Jason would call them every few days (as he was already conscientiously doing), they agreed. They asked how much money to send for his expenses and I assured them the incremental expense would be minimal and that I wanted to do it as a reward for his helping me with the housework.

Having won their approval, I said, "Oh. One other favor. I'd like it to be a surprise. I'd like to tell him after final exam week so he can concentrate on his course work." They thought that was a good idea and promised not to say anything to Jason.

Anticipating the possible problems that living with Jason might cause at school, I started making plans. With Jason's help the previous summer, my house and yard were in far better condition than when I moved in. That, I reasoned, could turn a tidy profit by selling the house. I was right. My realtor listed the house for a third more than I had paid for it. I then found a somewhat larger house in a small town about 20 miles from campus -- far enough away, I thought, that my sharing an address with Jason would not sound any alarms within the college. Jason understood my reasoning but was not sure about living in a small town.

"You won't miss Todd?" I asked one evening over supper.

He glared at me but said, "Sure I will. I'll have to find another jerk-buddy."

I glared back at him but then saw him smile so I laughed, "You'll have me. What more could you want?"

"I don't know," he said pensively. "You know you'll be on probation until you prove you're up to the task."

I put on a hurt look and replied, "I guess that's okay ... as long as the probationary period lasts for ... oh ... let's say fifty years."

"Deal!" he exclaimed and we both laughed.

I was lucky. My house sold in less than a month and we were able to move into the new house over Spring Break. I turned in my change of address form to the college and to the department chair, who read it and said, "Another change in your life, I see. Will you still be hosting Jason?"

"Yes. I don't know how well he'll adapt to a small town but I'm quite sure he'll get used to it."

Bob looked at me for a moment and said, "Yes, I think you'll find that town rather isolated and not the sort of place that appeals to everyone. But I can see that it's appropriate for you and Jason, which leads to a question. Forgive me, but I must ask. How are you two getting along? Mind you, I only ask in case there are any questions from ... well ... from some puritan on campus and you need me to defend you."

"Except for the change of address, there has been no change since we last talked about it. And there won't be. For a while."

"Right. Jason will be a junior next year," he said with a knowing grin.

"And no longer a student of mine," I replied. There was no loss of meaning in either of our veiled comments. We both were referring to the tacit understanding that sex might be overlooked as soon as Jason was not in any of my classes.

"That brings up another question. Since Jason is a resident in my home, however temporarily, I'd like to avoid any unwarranted questions about the grade he receives in my class. Would you be willing to grade his final exam, review his earlier scores, and confirm that his course grade is not biased?"

"Of course!" he said. "And congratulations for thinking of it. It's another example of the caution that you have exercised ... and will continue to exercise."

"I understand your meaning," I replied. "You have my thanks for the help and my promise that you won't be disappointed."

"Good! Very good!" he said. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"No. But thanks again," I said and returned to my office.

When the second semester's grades were posted on the college's computer system, I was not surprised to see that Jason had pulled down a straight A and won a spot (again) on the Dean's List. That evening, however, he was anything but happy.

"Why the sad face?" I asked over supper. "You should be proud and happy over your GPA and that you won't have to spend every waking moment studying."

"Sure," he said in a voice tinged with sarcasm. "Now I get to spend the whole summer in Seattle. And you'll be here. That'll be fucking great, won't it?"

Ignoring his profanity, I said thoughtfully, "Maybe not."

He gave me a confused look. Still in a funk, he said, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, I thought you might like to go on vacation with me to Mississippi. We can do some fishing in the Gulf, take some side trips to New Orleans for a few days and ..."

"My parents wouldn't stand for that," he said defiantly.

"They've already agreed to it," I said.

"They did? You've talked to them? They said it was all right?"

"Yes, and they agreed to let me surprise you."

He leapt from his chair and flew into my arms to give me another breath-stopping hug that lasted a long time. I felt his tears drip onto my neck as I hugged him back. I didn't think either of us had been happier. But even greater happiness lay ahead.

I broke the hug, looked at his tear-stained face, and said, "It will be more than a vacation, my love. It will be our honeymoon."

He looked startled. Then confused. Then he said, "Does that mean..."

"Yes," I grinned at him. "It means exactly what you think. It means that you ... I should say we ... don't have to wait any longer. Starting tonight, we will be true partners. That is, if you're still willing to love, honor, and cherish `till death do us part."

"Here's my answer," he exclaimed and kissed me almost ferociously.

Finally able to break the kiss, I said, "Let's leave the supper dishes until morning. I led him down the hall, picked him up, and carried him over the threshold of my bedroom.

PART 4

I was thrilled that Jason and I could, at last, fully join together. Our emotional and spiritual bond had formed long ago but it had not been complete. We had opened our minds and souls to each other but now we would be giving our bodies to each other as well. We were about to become not two lovers but a single, inseparable pair ... a couple ... two halves of a whole ... devoted partners in every meaningful way. Months of denial and impatient waiting only intensified the anticipation of our ultimate union. It would be a night of total commitment, an experience we had both yearned for, and one that would be permanently etched in our memory to remind us of the absolute joy of giving and receiving the ultimate expression of love.

Having symbolically carried him across the threshold of my bedroom, I laid him on my bed. I sat next to him, delighting in his broad smile. "Jason my love," I said. "We're about to unite as one. We'll be explorers in an enchanted land. Neither of us has taken the path that lies before us. I'm sure -- at least for tonight -- we'll be in a glorious territory, full of thrills and satisfaction. But there may also be some difficulties and dangers ahead of us. Are you sure you're willing to face them together, to live you life with me in a gay partnership?"

"Absolutely," he replied. "It's what I want more than anything."

"I'm also sure. Never more sure of anything. And never more grateful. But we're novices at what we're about to do . We've heard about gay sex, maybe read about it, but everything will be new and wonderful as we experience it. There are only two rules we must remember. Whatever we want to do ... or say ... or feel ... is all right. Rule two is important. If either of us doesn't want to do something, we must say so and the other must honor the request. Can we agree on those rules?"

"Of course."

"Now, there's something I would like to do. In appreciation of your understanding and patience waiting for this moment, I would like to relax, to enjoy the moment, and to let me fulfill your dreams. I want to take you to the heights of ecstasy. Later, if you want, you can do whatever you want to me. May I do to you what I've been longing to do?"

"Yes. Please. Love me however you want to."

I kissed him, not passionately but tenderly. I removed his tee shirt. I had seen his bare chest many times as he walked to the bathroom in the morning or from the bathroom at night. And admired the firm muscles that formed the base of nipples that seemed to beg for stimulation. I admired his flat stomach that disappeared into his trousers or pajama bottoms. This was different. I could not only see and admire; I could now touch ... feel ... and caress, which I began to do with overwhelming effect on me. "You're beautiful, my love," I said. "As beautiful on the outside as you are on the inside." And he was! There was only a sprinkling of fine hair on his sculpted chest with most of it encircling his dark nipples. There was more hair on his legs -- I had noticed that whenever he wore short pants. It testified to his maturity and masculinity.

After a few minutes of massaging his torso and suckling on his responsive nipples, I removed his shoes and socks and started to unfasten his belt. Jason interrupted me. "Jerry, you said I should let you do what you wanted. Can I ask something of you?"

"Yes. What is it?"

"I'd like to see you naked, too."

"Of course. I apologize for not thinking of that."

I stood and undressed while Jason watched intently. When I lowered my boxers and revealed my rigid hard-on, he gasped. "Better than I imagined it," he muttered to himself as much as to me. I stood for a moment to let him visually examine my equipment that would, before long, belong to him as much as to me.

I returned to lavish my attention on Jason -- being mindful, whenever possible, to keep my manhood within his view. I removed his trousers, exposing a sizable bulge in his briefs. The contours of his erect penis were obvious. And inviting. As I prepared to remove his briefs, I grew nervous. I don't to this day know why. Perhaps it was a subconscious thought that I was the first to be doing this to an extremely desirable virgin and I feared that I was not worthy of the honor or might not be able to meet his expectations. But my eagerness to give him pleasure kept me going.

I lowered and removed his briefs. My heart began to pound as I saw what Jason was offering to share, to admire, to fondle, and -- I reminded myself -- to use as a means of giving my lover the ecstatic pleasure of sexual gratification. He was uncut, a rarity in today's western culture but the envy of many gay men because of the heightened stimulation the foreskin provided. The tip of his cockhead peeked seductively from the clinging foreskin that surrounded it. I ran my fingers through his thick bush of black pubic hair. I cradled his pendulous ball sack and tenderly played with the orbs that were full of youthful seed soon to be released -- for his erotic pleasure and into my hungry mouth. I was then I noticed a glistening string of precum extending from the tip of his cock down to a small puddle above his pubic hair. Lust trumped my plan to prolong the foreplay and to heighten his arousal. I bent down and licked it up from his lower abdomen and from the tip of his cock. At the moment my tongue touched the tip of his throbbing rod, his body convulsed. He bucked his hips, forcing his manhood into my mouth. And he screamed, "OH, GOD!"

For an instant, I was concerned that his reaction signaled pain or fear but when he grabbed the back of my head and pulled it downward into his crotch, forcing much of his shaft into my mouth, I realized that his reaction was an uncontrollable reflex, triggered by a wonderful experience of consuming pleasure. With one hand fondling his balls, the other stroking the base of his cock, and my mouth and tongue roaming all over the engorged cockhead, I did my best to bring him to a climax. It was a surprisingly short time before he yelled, "I gonna shoot! NOW!"

I tightened my lips around the geyser that would soon fill my mouth with his seed. It took some effort because he was writhing vigorously, gripping the bed cover beneath him, and bucking his hips furiously. Then, I was rewarded with several volleys of hot cream that blasted against the back of my throat. I had to swallow frantically so as not to lose a single drop of the precious nectar.

I held him tightly after his orgasm with our naked bodies pressed together and merging into one. I was extraordinarily pleased that Jason had so thoroughly enjoyed his first oral sex. My enjoyment in tasting his manhood was, I thought, nearly equal to his. I found myself regretting that I had insisted that we wait so long. The joy of making love to Jason, the delight in his gratification, and the bliss in a simple act of cuddling together, was as close as any mortal can come to paradise.

When he seemed to have recovered, I asked, "Was it what you expected?"

He looked me in the eye and said sincerely, "No. It was unbelievably better. I loved you before, Jerry, but I love you infinitely more now."

We kissed and hugged for a while. Then he asked, "My turn?"

I rolled over on my back. Jason eagerly took control, essentially repeating what I had done to -- or, rather, for -- him. The most satisfying orgasm of my life propelled me into an orbit of ecstasy followed by a free-fall of overwhelming satisfaction.

We embraced. We kissed. We basked in the glow of fulfillment. We had shared our bodies in a loving act with the sensual pleasure accenting both the significance and the joy of completing our union. We had exchanged our precious seed so that a part of us would forever be a part of the other.

Twice more before we fell asleep in each other's arms after midnight we repeated the ritual bonding, each time with more foreplay and less ejaculate but each time with renewed satisfaction that, after a frustrating and often stressful wait, we were at last bonded emotionally, spiritually, and physically. Multiple times before we fell asleep, we reaffirmed our love and our unassailable commitment to love, honor, and cherish till death do us part.'

Just before dawn, I awoke with a start from a dream and sat bolt upright, fully awake, in a cold sweat. In the dream, as before, Jason and I were cuddling naked in bed. As before, my father appeared in the doorway. Unlike before, however, he was smiling.

My abrupt movement had awakened Jason who asked, "What's the matter, Jerry." You look scared or something."

"Just a bad dream, my love. Nothing to be concerned about. I'm sorry I woke you up."

"I'm not," he said with a devilish grin. "As long as we're both awake ... and it's too soon to get up ... I thought ..."

"Great idea!" I exclaimed as I pounced on him and began making love again.

Two weeks later, we landed at Hawkins Field airport in Jackson, Mississippi. I picked up my rental car and we headed down I-55 toward McComb. As I turned east on State Route 44 toward my parents' farm, Jason was growing increasingly nervous over meeting my parents. My best efforts at calming him down seemed to make no difference. I pulled off the highway into the parking lot of a roadside diner and stopped the car. I turned toward him and reminded him of our many conversations before leaving on vacation. "They're sure to like you, Jason. They may not show it; they don't often demonstrate their feelings. Don't let that bother you. Just be yourself. I predict that before supper is over, you'll be more at ease. Besides, what's the worst that could happen? I can't imagine it happening but let's say they don't like you and you don't like them. We'll only be there for two days."

"That's not the worst," he said morosely. "What if they suspect we're gay lovers? You've told me how they hate homosexuals. I don't mind them hating me but I don't want them to hate you. You're their son."

"They won't! I've already convinced them that you're just one of my former students who is traveling with me because it's no fun to vacation alone. As long as we're careful around them, you have nothing to worry about." His mood didn't seem to improve so I tried another approach. "Of course, we don't have to be careful at night in the motel, do we?"

He grinned. That was a good sign and perhaps the most I could hope for.

My parents were, as I knew they would be, hospitable; that's one of the core values in the rural deep-south. By the middle of the next day, Jason was more comfortable and even got my father communicating in more than single syllables by asking all kinds of questions about farming and showing a genuine interest in the answers. My mother was a mother; she repeatedly asked why we couldn't stay longer, if I was sure I was well, and when I would marry and have children. Still a slave to the sense of responsibility to nurture here children, she prepared a sack of food for us when we left. I suppose we were fortunate that none of my siblings were there. Like me, they had all gotten away from the farm to take a job -- and a husband or a wife -- in one city or another. I suspected that their exposure to a diverse population in urban areas might have made them curious if not suspicious of Jason's accompanying me.

On the drive to New Orleans for three days of sight-seeing, Jason commented on the marked change in me. "To your parents," he observed, "You're still a little boy. That's not surprising. My parents are the same way; they treat me like I was still in high school. But you even acted like a dependent child sometimes. You weren't as thoughtful and confident as I know you are. Even your accent got more pronounced. I don't think I would have fallen in love with you as quickly that way."

I laughed. "You know what they say. You can take the boy from the farm but you can't take the farm from the boy. I suppose I'll always have a little farm boy in me."

"Well," he mused, "You sure hide it well ... just like you hid your sexual interests. I'm just glad you let your gayness show enough to bring us together."

After nearly two weeks of sight-seeing, deep sea fishing, parasailing, and intense love-making at night in the motel, we returned home. A week after that, I put Jason on a plane for Seattle to visit his parents for two weeks.

I picked him up at the airport on his return from Seattle. Upon seeing me in the baggage claim area, he broke into a run toward me, wrapped his arms around me, and held me tight. I was delighted to have my Jason back but his public display of affection worried me. I broke away from his embrace and said in a voice that could be heard by at least people near us, "Good to see you, too, little brother!"

He looked perplexed for a moment before he realized what he had done and why I called him little brother. But he was able to recover quickly. "It's been a long time, bro."

As soon as we loaded his luggage in the trunk and got in the car, he said, "I'm sorry, Jerry. I was just so happy to see you that I forgot. Are you mad at me?"

"No," I said with a smile to underscore my reply. "I understand. In fact, you don't know how close I came to kissing you right there in front of God and everybody."

He chuckled, "You can do that and a lot more when we get home!"

"So, how was your stay with your parents?" I asked as I pulled out of the parking garage.

His cheerful attitude evaporated. "Boring! Lonely! And that was the best part!"

"What do you mean by that?" I asked, confused.

He looked at me and asked, "Can we talk about it later? Maybe after we get home? And go to bed for a while? I missed you so much, Jerry. All I want to do right now is show you how much I missed you."

It was fairly clear that there was something about his stay in Seattle that bothered him, perhaps a lot. But I honored his request to postpone discussing it.

We spent most of three hours in bed, first with an energetic, vigorous, and extremely erotic reunion and then a period of blissful relaxation. It would be hard to say which of us was more grateful to be back together again. We went out to eat supper and returned home about eight in the evening. Yes, home! Our house on the outskirts of a small town was OUR home.

We were sitting on the sofa in the living room when I dared to ask, "Want to tell me about your stay in Seattle?"

Jason thought for a moment and then related a disturbing story. "The first week or so was okay. I was glad to see my parents again because I do love them and missed them. But it began to get on my nerves. It was the little things, mostly. They were fussing over me and treating me like a little boy, telling me, It's bedtime, dear' or Eat your vegetables; there'll good for you' or No, you can't borrow the car but I'll take you wherever you want to go.' They would ask me about school and I'd tell them about some of my classes but they would get this blank look like they didn't understand what I was saying and then they would change the subject. That part, I can understand; biology, chemistry, and physics can be confusing. But it added to my impression that -- to them -- I was still a child and incapable of mature thought. Or being responsible and independent. I guess that primed me for one night at supper. Dad launched into one of his tirades about queers. One of his employees is gay and dad was hurling insults like the guy was subhuman. I tolerated it as long as I could but when he said, I thank God you're not one of those goddamn degenerates, Jason.' I lost it. I shouldn't have but I did. I told him Don't be too sure, dad.' While he glared at me, I regretted losing my cool. I was going to try to cover my tracks by pointing out that there are lots of people you would never suspect of being gay and are fine human beings. But I didn't have the chance. He laughed and resumed his vicious attack on gays. Then I made the biggest mistake of my life. But I was furious. I said, If you hate gays so much, dad, then you hate me because I'm gay. Didn't you ever wonder why I never dated girls in high school? No, you didn't. You were too wrapped up in your job and too busy working on church projects. I'm sorry to disappoint you, dad, but your son is gay ... or ... as you would say, one of those goddamn queers.' I ran into the guest room where I was staying. I was still mad at what my dad was saying ... not mad at him -- he's still my dad ... but mad at what he said. I must have cried for twenty minutes because I was sure that my dad not only hated gays but hated me as well. I had blown it all because I couldn't control my temper."

Jason, in telling of his experience and reliving the episode, started to tear up. I put my arm around him, held him tightly, and said, "Don't be too hard on yourself, Jason. There's only so much a person can stand before he breaks. I'm not sure I would have tolerated his abuse as long as you did."

"It gets worse," he said. "Later that evening, he knocked on the door and came in without my saying anything. He said he was sorry if he offended me. IF? There was no if' about it! He told me I would grow out of it. That was the final straw - - treating me like a little kid again. He wanted me to pray with him. I told him, No! If you want to pray, go ahead. It won't do any good. You might as well pray for me to be a girl or an Olympic athlete, or something I'm not because nothing can change what I am.' Okay,' he said. If you don't believe in repentance and God's power to heal sinners, you can see a psychiatrist.' It was going from bad to worse, Jerry. I shouted, `No! I'm not sick. I don't need to be cured! I am what God made me! I'm going to stay the way God made me! If you can't accept that, I'm sorry!' I screwed up big time, Jerry. My dad offended me, belittled me, made me lose my temper. But I disappointed him and probably destroyed his love for me. I wish I could go back and relive that night and make it come out differently."

Jason broke down into sobs as I continued to hold him tightly. There was nothing I could say at that point; he had to drain himself of grief and guilt.

"How did your mother handle it all?" I asked.

"She didn't say anything malicious or insulting toward gays but in more polite words and by nodding in agreement with dad, she expressed the same disapproval of gays. The next day, she asked me, `Are you sure, dear?' and I calmly told her that I was absolutely sure. She acted like I had punched her in the stomach and walked away. For the next couple of days, my parents and I hardly spoke to each other. That icy coexistence hurt me as much as dad's bigotry. I'm sure I hurt them even more. And I suppose I'm going to have to live with that."

"I'm sorry, Jason, for the way things turned out. But I think I understand how you felt at the time and how you feel now. I'll say it again. Don't be too hard on yourself. It's not the way either of us would want them to find out but eventually they probably would have anyway so their disappointment couldn't be prevented - - only delayed."

"There's just one thing I'm proud of, Jerry. I didn't tell them about us, about how we love each other, and about what we do together. I wanted to. I wanted to tell them how much we love each other and are committed to each other. I wanted to convince them that it was love and not just sex. There's a huge difference. But I kept you out of it. They probably suspect but they can't be sure."

"Thank you," I said. "At some point, we'll probably have to tell them but let's worry about that later. Right now, what I want and what I think you need is some quiet time in bed. Just us. Let's enjoy being together."

He grinned. "You're still horny after this afternoon?"

I grinned back. "I'm always horny when you're around. For that matter, I get horny thinking about you when you're not around. But what I had in mind was just peaceful cuddling where we can hold each other."

"But if something comes up?" he asked.

"Mmmm," I replied. "Something? Whatever could you be talking about?"

He stood with his devilish grin broadening and led me into our bedroom.

Jason periodically fell into a funk over the damage he felt he had done and the bleak outlook for a restoration of a relationship with his parents. He tried a few times to phone them but they were polite at best and decidedly cool toward him. After a few calls trying to repair the damage, he gave up. It was then he started to worry about paying tuition. I assured him that I would pay the tuition if his parents didn't but that seemed to upset him more. Even pointing out that we were a couple -- even though we were not legally married -- and that many married people gladly paid for their spouse's education didn't diminish his resistance to letting me help.

Late one afternoon, he got an email from his father. In a rather formal way it said that his tuition for the coming year had been paid but that he would have to earn money for his dorm room and meals in the college cafeteria. He called it up on the computer and asked me to read it.

"What do you think, Jerry? Is that good news or bad news? He's paid my tuition but it seems he's cutting me out of his life by not providing living expenses."

"Here's my guess, Jason. Paying your tuition means that you're still his son ... a son who he wants to be successful in life. It may even mean that beneath his disappointment there's something inside of him that still loves you. As for not paying living expenses, one interpretation is that he's finally recognized that you've grown up and are capable of supporting yourself as an adult."

"Nice try," Jason said dismissively. "But congratulations for putting a positive spin on it."

"Positive spin?" I asked. "I think not! I'm just suggesting one interpretation. If you want to put a negative spin on it, that's your choice. You can decide whether to feel miserable or to pick up the pieces and get on with your life. You can look back to what once was and may not ever be again or you can look forward to the future and prepare for it. Let me know what you decide."

I walked out of the room. I had been harsh, perhaps too harsh. I couldn't decide whether I had made a mistake or done Jason a favor. One thing I did know, however. Jason was still grieving over what he chose to believe was the loss of his parents' love. Somehow I would have to be patient and help him through the crisis.

Half an hour later, he walked into the living room where I was pretending to read. (I was actually trying to think of some way to help Jason.)

"Are you mad at me, Jerry?"

"No, my love. I'm concerned. I understand how you feel and I'm at a total loss as to how to help you cope."

"You sounded mad. I don't want to lose your love, too."

"Come here and sit down," I said patting the sofa beside me. I put my arm around him and gave him a tender kiss. "Remember the phrase in the traditional marriage vows? In sickness and health? What that means to me is that we have to stick together. Through thick and thin. Each of us must support the other whenever problems arise. We both must shoulder the responsibility of solving problems whether it's a problem for both of us or for just one of us. That's what I want to do. I want to preserve the love we have for each other. I'm not mad at you, Jason. I'm just frustrated that I can't help because you're torturing yourself. Sure, you may -- or may not -- have lost something that meant a lot to you -- your relationship with your family. There's an old prayer. I don't know the source but I think it fits our situation. And I do mean OUR situation. `God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change those I can, and wisdom to know the difference.' I give you credit for courage and wisdom. Can you work on the serenity a little?"

"I'll try," he said as he snuggled more closely into me.

"That's all I ask. Well ... maybe one more thing. Don't bottle up your feelings. Keep talking to me. I want to know anything that bothers you. Did you know that sadness and happiness are contagious? It's true! There are little micro- organisms. Science hasn't seen them yet because they're part of the dark matter that fills the universe. They float from one person to another infecting them with sadness or happiness. The real problem comes when they ..."

Jason sat upright and punched my shoulder. "You're making this all up!" he exclaimed through his laughter.

"Not so!" I shot back. "We've just experienced what they can do. You laughed. The happy micro-organisms were stimulated by your laughter and they infused my body so now I'm happier."

He snuggled back into me and said, "That's one reason why I love you. Not only do you think of me first but you have a knack for making me see myself. And I forgive you for telling a lie about fictitious micro-organisms."

"I NEVER lie! They are not fictitious. They're real and ..."

Before I could finish, Jason straddled my legs and pounded my chest yelling, "Liar, liar!"

I grabbed his wrists and pushed him back. "Let me demonstrate a part of that little prayer -- the part about changing the things we can -- things like your beating on me." I pulled him into me and gave him a very long, very deep throated kiss. When we broke the kiss, I said, "I mentioned the sad bugs and the happy bugs. Let me tell you about the love bugs. Did you feel them infecting you when we kissed?"

He chuckled and said, "No. What I felt was my cock swelling."

Jason was less moody after that or at least he did what he could to hide it from me. The return to school in September kept him occupied and we fell into a routine that always included a discussion over supper of our day's events. Things were going smoothly ... until the week of Thanksgiving. Jason was eager for the short break from school but the prospect of spending the holiday away from his family, for the first time in his life, weighed heavily on him. I suggested a short get-away from Wednesday night through Sunday and that seemed to lift his spirits if only a little.

When we returned from the mini-vacation, there was a message on the answering machine among a few others. It was from Jason's father: "Hi, Jason. I couldn't let Thanksgiving pass without telling you how much we miss you at the table. I hope you are enjoying the holiday and hope you can visit over Christmas. I promise to behave myself. We both miss you and love you and want to see you. Oh, another thing, please tell Dr. Collins he's welcome to come with you. The more the merrier. Call us when you can."

Jason was beside himself and couldn't talk fast enough when he rattled off his reaction. "Did you hear that, Jerry? He said he loves me! Is that great or what? Do you suppose he's really accepted the fact that he has a gay son? Or was he just trying to be a model father when he said he'd behave himself? And what did he mean by `behave myself'? Has he really changed his mind?"

"One question at a time, Jason. Please." I grinned.

"Okay. Hold on a minute." He punched the replay button to listen again. When it finished, he seized me in a bear hug, exclaiming, "I'm so happy! I've got you ... I've got my family back. They've even invited you. This is wonderful."

We had a long discussion about the phone call and its probable significance. It was very clear that Jason wanted to visit his parents at Christmas and I agreed that he should. However, I said, "I'm pleased that they invited me but -- let me throw this out only as a question for you to consider -- would it be better for you to go alone and make it a family affair? Would my presence interfere with the reconciliation?"

He thought for a moment, just as I expected he would, and then said, "No. One: I wouldn't feel right leaving you here alone. Two: it would be a chance for them to get to know you better and see what a wonderful person you are. Three: whether they know it or not, you're a member of the family ... kind of like a son-in-law. Four: things are less likely to get ugly with you there. And five: if things do get ugly, you can help me control my temper. Now, tell me what you think."

"I think your quick analysis and logic is admirable. Are you sure that's what you want?"

"Then it's settled!" he said gleefully. "I'm gonna call dad right now and say we'll be there."

"One more question before you do, Jason. How many bedrooms in their house?"

"Three," he said and immediately frowned. "I guess we'll have to sleep separately for a few days."

I pretended to pout for dramatic effect and then broke into a smile to say, "We'll just have to make up for it when we get home."

"Count on it!" he exclaimed and reached for the phone.

The three days we spent in Seattle over Christmas went surprisingly well. Jason became irritated on several occasions when he thought he was being treated as a child but I reminded him that was inevitable; we're always children to our parents. I also reminded him that he witnessed it when we visited my parents.

We had some private time during the day -- to do some Christmas shopping, for example -- in which Jason enthused about his parents' friendly attitude toward him. Bedtime was the hardest part of the visit for me. I didn't realize until then how much it meant to me to fall asleep with our arms around each other. He told me that he felt the same way.

Mrs. Hendricks fixed a spectacular brunch on the day we were to drive home. At the end of the meal, Mr. Hendricks said to Jason, "I want you to know, son, that I'm very proud of you, especially for your accomplishments in college. More importantly, I want you to know that I love you. I haven't shown it as much as I should and we've had our moments of ... ah ... disagreement. The last time you were here..." He hesitated and glanced over at me. "Well, I want to apologize. Believe me, I'm sorry."

Sensing that Mr. Hendricks was uncomfortable saying what he wanted to say with me in the room, I said, "If you'll excuse me, I have some last-minute packing."

Jason immediately said, "You don't have to leave, Jerry." Then, looking at his father, he continued, "Jerry knows I'm gay, dad. And he knows what happened here last summer. In fact, he's the one who helped me through my misery when I thought you no longer loved me. Without him, I would have been a nut case."

Mr. Hendricks seemed shocked that his tirade, his apparent rejection of Jason, and his months of aloofness that followed had been shared outside the family. But he eventually turned to me and said, "Thank you, Jerry. It seems you've been like a second father to Jason ... beginning with your help in assuring his continued schooling and guiding him through a troubled time. I can never thank you enough."

"Perhaps you should be thanking yourself ... and your wife," I replied. "Because you've raised a truly fine young man. You have a fine son and the credit is largely yours. It's been nothing but a privilege and a pleasure to help and to see your son become an adult on the threshold of greatness."

As we left the house for the drive home, I thanked my hosts for the invitation and for the exceptional hospitality. They both said I would be welcome any time. Jason then hugged his mother who, I could tell, was on the brink of tears. For what appeared to be an awkward moment, he looked at his father. Then, he grasped him in a bear hug. The man looked embarrassed and uncomfortable at first but returned the hug. Jason later told me it was the first time they had indulged in any physical show of affection since he was a toddler.

Jason chattered incessantly for the first half hour of the drive home. He was still amazed at the contrast between this visit and the last. He could hardly believe how well this visit had turned out. At one point, he enthused, "Did you hear him Jerry? He said he loves me! He probably still hates gays but he loves me. Isn't that amazing?"

I just smiled at him and said, "Remember when I told you about the sad bugs and the happy bugs? Well, the happy bugs are swarming all over me and that makes me almost as happy as you are."

EPILOG

Jason received a prestigious internship with a biotech firm during the summer after his junior year and part-time throughout his senior year. He graduated summa cum laude and went to work for the firm full-time while pursuing an MBA part-time. I was promoted to full professor on tenure track.

Although some neighbors and some co-workers might suspect the true nature of our relationship, we haven't felt the need to "go public" with the information. Jason's parents no doubt know the truth but neither they nor we have talked openly about it. My parents, I'm sure, are blissfully unaware that their youngest son is `living in sin.' To the outside world we are good friends who share a house. In the privacy of our home, however, we share not just a house and an interest in biology but joyfully share a bed. Our love has grown stronger. Our times of intimacy have become less frequent but even more meaningful.

What began as no more than helping a promising student stay in school as a way of balancing the scales after I had been helped by so many people resulted in my receiving the gift of love.