In the Shadow of Our Lives

All the usual disclaimers apply. I always love to hear what you think so shoot me your thoughts @ phantomscorpio77@gmail.com.

In the Shadows of Our Lives -- On Broken Wings III Confusion Rolls In [Here I Go Again]

Friday night it's just Neil, Tania, and me until Nat shows up at Tania's with her fraternal twin brother Jackie and his friend Wayne. It's a pretty good night I guess, once Train arrives we watch Sleepy Hollow and I secretly lust over Johnny Depp. Nat is real friendly towards me, and at some point it becomes apparent to me that the night might be a set-up for me to get together with her. I clued in when Tania nudged Nat, and shortly thereafter her hand is on my leg and she's squeezing my thigh and hiding her eyes behind my shoulders at the scary moments.

Talking with Nat after the movie I find out that she and Tim actually are good friends and they have been neighbours since his family moved to our area of Houston. Sort of your Peter Parker -- Mary-Jane Watson thingy. Only they are really friends, not just neighbours like Spidey and his girl were. Beyond that I assume Tim, Neil, Jackie, and Wayne are all friends because they are all on like one or two baseball teams together. Train on the other hand I haven't seen outside of school since Tania's Valentine's Day party.

Still, it's the whole Tim/Nat thing that has confused me lately until I found this out, because I thought Tim wanted her and was chatting her up at the beach earlier in the week. So not knowing that they were just friends when Nat was trying to lean against me during the creepy parts of the movie, I was doubly uncomfortable. First it was the proximity of her body to mine, and second it was that I was worried that allowing her the contact was breaking the male code with Tim.

One of my traits is that I always read a situation. My art teacher, Mrs. Rosser, is totally into astrology. She had me pegged for a Scorpio about three days into my first year with her because of the way she watched me watch the room and take in all the details others miss, then continue to watch relentlessly. She says that's part of what make Scorpio's great artists as well as detectives, except we are frustrated artists because we are perfectionists a little too much. We are always working problems out in our heads, often merely for the challenge. We also never reveal our hand and based on our ability to read situations, once ready, we strike with amazing accuracy.

So I blame it on my astral sign, but out of the corner of my eyes I can see Jackie stare at me. I don't let him know that I've picked up on this, but store it away to figure out later. I wanted to point out to him that as if I have any control over his sister, but still I didn't want to let on that I was catching his stares. If he thinks I'm a threat to his sister he also must think I am straight. No need to correct that. Then again, he may be trying to asses my reaction to her, which may lead him to conclude I didn't pop a boner over her. I am not about to tell him that if I were forced to choose between what's between his legs and hers that it would be him all the way. I also notice that Neil and Tania are all gooey eyed again, but really, when aren't they lately?

Nat lets us all know she is going out for a smoke and yanks my arm, less than subtly suggesting I need to go outside too. Outside with her she comes right out with it, "Jon, do you like me?"

Her forwardness catches me off guard. This is difficult. Formulating a cop-out I plead, "No offence Nat but I don't even know you."

Not missing a beat she says, "that's true. But, do you want to get to know me better?"

I'm stuck deeper in this than I can manage to figure a way out of, so I tell her, "I've never really dated any girl. Yeah, I would have to get to know you more before I could decide such a thing."

Yes, both my feet and possibly one or both of hers are now in my mouth. It's a big suck-hole at the moment, which is rather impressive in and of itself, given the crap I'm also spewing out of it. Adding to the load of crap I'm trying to sell, I explain my life schedule with school and two part time jobs.

Nat stops me and says, "it's O.K. Jon. It was Tim's idea, because he thinks we are a good match."

I rely on my practiced poker face to not give away the hurt, shock, and anger I feel when without skipping a beat she asks me, "Or is it that you like boys?"

Woah. She isn't even really joking.

She tells me, "Tim has mentioned things about you and says you're not gay. But that it is what people are saying about you around school and whatnot. That you go for the boys. Especially after you showed up to school to school Wednesday wearing his shirt and jeans.

She grabs a hold of the Manager jeans I'm wearing, a little too close to my crotch for comfort, "The girls know these jean. The fact that they maybe looked better on you didn't go un-noticed."

I try to protest, "Yeah whatever. So I wore Tim's stuff? I got too drunk at the beach and never made it home that night. And no, don't take that to mean something happened between us. Tim's not gay, I'm not gay, none of us are! Before me, kids at school have said that about Tim and Neil, and they both have girlfriends. Well, Tim and Jenna broke up a while back, but still. And how about Paul Hunter? You're friends with him. I've heard he and your brother are gay too, but Paul has a daughter and I don't recall Jackie being the mother!"

I fail to add that as for the jeans, I too have lusted after Tim in them. The triple x's down the fly and the x's stitched all way round the back pockets look great on him. His waist is 2 inches bigger than mine, so when I cinch the waist they hang off me differently and I myself am impressed at how defined my package is in them. I've measured myself, and enough searches on the internet have assured me that I am safely in the range of average. I'd love to have a 7 inch hanger that grows to 9 or 10 inches like every guy boasts to have, but I'm more than happy with what I have. Only in Tim's jeans, looking down right now in my completely flaccid state, I like what I see bunched up better than in my jeans. That's why I'm wearing them right now. I wouldn't steal them from him, but Tim may just have to lend these to me from time to time.

We're outside alone, so there's no need to be discreet, but Nat looks both ways anyhow. She lowers her voice as she informs me, "Well, while Tim's doesn't think so, I think based on what I've heard from him alone that you must be gay. Some things about you don't add up unless you are gay."

"Or just private about what girls I like and shy about doing anything about it," I counter.

I want her to shut up and just go away, but she puts a hand on my shoulder and leans in to me. I cough at the second hand smoke exhaling through her nostrils as she also tells me, "Well, I'll give you that. You are quiet and very private. Still, you don't have to make any excuses. You can just say no to dating me."

I'm embarrassed, and mixed up. I don't hardly know her, like hell I'm telling her the answer to my sexuality. As for dating her? Ewww. I'd never be able to fake it.

But still, being discovered, or outed makes me act strange. Inside I want to tell her not to tell Tim incase I've misjudged him and he ends up beating me or something. Outwardly I try my best to just laugh it off and act like it's no big deal. What bothers me most afterwards is the way I act in the sense that I cling to her like my puppy does to me after he's done something shameful, like peeing in the house or chewing a corner of the duvet on my bed to shreds. It's the longest hour and a half of my life until she leaves with Wayne and her brother. I do my best to avoid her by catching up with Train, and after he leaves I strike up a conversation with her brother who in almost 3 years of school together I have never talked with, just so I didn't have to feel awkward with Nat.

When I first got to Tania's I figured that because Tim wasn't with us that he would have been with Nat. But when she showed up tonight it squashed that idea. All night I keep wondering where that tricky dog is. Walking home from Tania's it finally dawns on me. I guess in my preoccupation with Chris and my lusting over Paul Hunter this week I totally forgot that Tim's family was going away to a cousin's wedding in New Orleans for the weekend. He did say `see you Monday' at Friday's lunch break after all before taking the afternoon off. I feel totally stupid when it finally dawns on me. Thankfully I never voiced my question and thereby avoided looking as stupid as I now feel!

When I get home Candace is in my room, sitting on my bed. The girls never go into my room. Only Ma ever goes into my room. The deal is I keep it clean, leave the door open when I'm not in it and no one else goes in it. So to see Candace sitting on my bed, petting Bandit breaks the rules.

"You're looking almost dateable tonight," She says as I crowd into my room.

I want to ask her what the hell she's doing in my room, but instead I ask, "To what do I owe the pleasure? Ma mad at me and you're sparing my ass?"

Candace laughs, "Sheesh Moody, just take a compliment, O.K? Na, Ma's cool with you. Neil Anderson just called for you. I didn't think you were home but I checked. Your door was closed over and I heard snoring but it turned out to be Bandit here."

"Ah. Cool. Thanks," I say as I peel off my shirt and reach for my undershirt that I wear around the house.

Candace woots, "Seriously Moody. Whenever you want to stop living life as a monk you're a catch."

I roll my eyes at her, "So says my sister. Thanks Candy but I don't ask about your love life, leave mine alone."

"Chill. I'm just saying you have a lot to offer. You're not a jerk like all the guys I know," She states.

"Maybe you're right, I got hit on tonight. Natalie Wilson, if you know her. But I don't like her, and I really think Tim's got a thing for her, and I thought she did for him. Maybe it his jeans," I mumble.

I sit down on my bed beside Candace as Bandit enjoys my bed and has his head on my pillow. Classic. I toss my shirt out the door and it lands half in, half out of my hamper beside the washer. I toss the undershirt behind me on the bed and push Bandit so I can lean back on my bed.

Candace asks, "Tim likes her?"

I joke, "Is that jealousy in your voice Candy?"

"Pshaw! As if! Your friends are too young and tender for me. Speaking of which, I should go so you can give Neil a call back," Candace says as she tosses the phone at me.

As she gets up to leave I tease her, "FYI Candy, Tim and Nat are just friends, nothing more. He's on the market!"

I give Neil a call. His brother Matt answers and gets him for me, "Farrows!"

I answer in kind, "Mr. Anderson. What's up?"

"Nat was all over you tonight, huh? Don't mind her. She's chasing at least 3 guys right now and wanted to prove you're gay. We're all over it for you, Tania's telling her to lay off. Just so you know though, that girl from the Beach Bash? Her name's Brittany and you went to a movie with her last night. Jackie's a good friend, but that doesn't stop me from saying that his sister can eat you up and spit you out. So just go with it if it comes up," Neil explains.

I'm a little upset, "Uh thanks. But I don't need any help. Just because I choose to be single doesn't make me gay for fuck's sake. I'm far from the only guy in school that doesn't have a girlfriend. And Nat Wilson? She's too forward for me. You know I'm not so smooth with girls but I'll manage to get one on my own time. You guys don't have to lie for me."

"Yessum, boss. I'll tell Tania to let it slide. It's late dude, give yourself some love and get to bed. Later."

"You too Neil," I say.

He can't help but point out before hanging up, "I don't have to spank the monkey when I have Tania."

I sleep fitfully as my stomach has turned to acid from the events of the night. While I lie awake in bed sometime Saturday morning Tim keeps popping up in my head. I use a toy I picked up and practice safe sex with him. Safe, as in he's hundreds of miles away, and I have to close my eyes to picture his sweaty, naked, sexy body pumping into mine, adding to the sensations that I wish really were him making love to me. Instead it's only rubber, and putting a condom on it doesn't make it the real deal any more than my wishes do. But damn, in my head? He has all the right moves and brings me to premature orgasms every time. Maybe one day, when he's good and drunk he'll actually give me the thrill of my lifetime, or what he'd consider a pity fuck. Yeah, I'll pencil that into my datebook for the day after it's discovered that polka-dot elephants and flying pigs cause Hell to freeze over.

Tim being away at least paves the way for me to see Chris Sunday morning while not having to make up an excuse to him and have Nat psychoanalyze it. Yeah Sundays! Lately my Sunday mornings are usually devoted to playing Grand Theft Auto or Final Fantasy with Tim. At least he doesn't try to get me to play real baseball with him and a group from school after the first time 3 weeks ago! That proved disastrous on two counts. I suck for starters, and I can't keep my eyes from gravitating to the guys crotches. I have no idea what the score of the game was, or how many balls I didn't catch, but I could give statistics on who was going au natural (me) and who was wearing a cup (every other guy). I can also tell you who looked yummy and who I wouldn't touch with a 10 foot pole. Of the 14 other guys, I'd do 5, maybe 6 of them, and jerked off afterwards with only Tim in my mind. Man, I wish he could be gay!

But back to baseball, real baseball that is, If I hadn't embarrassed myself so badly playing I might have risked playing again with them for the eroticism. But I might embarrass myself that way too because let's face it, it's obvious when a guy is fixated on the other guy's crotches in a sport where they all wear skimpy pants. And then if a guy is wearing loose-fitting shorts, jogging pants, or tear-aways it becomes even more of a stare while you look for the goods. Except for the fat and ugly guys, and the already hairy guys, like Neil. Nice guy, but damn Neil, shave your furry stomach and chest already and get Tania to tackle that jungle on your back! Obviously I don't even care to waste time checking the hairy guy's goods out.

So anyhow, Tim usually plays ball with the guys Saturday mornings instead after driving me to the work at the mall. It is such a boyfriend thing to do, if anyone knew he did this for me they'd be all over it. Just like my eyes are all secretly over his crotch when he drives me. After I'm up Sundays we do the game system thing or fool around in his pool or mine until I have to go to work at the restaurant, which he also often drives me to. He is the perfect boyfriend, he just doesn't know it.

But damn, while I do everything in my power to not think of Tim sexually, as hot as he is sitting in his bucket seat in his car, clad in a huge cup and tight pinstripe pants; I get hard every time he adjusts or scratches. It seems baseball players do it so often that they have no qualms about just doing it wherever and whenever necessary. Like, say for a seemingly exaggeratedly long span of time at a red light, or an overly frequent amount of times while driving. I swear, if Tim doesn't unconsciously adjust almost every time after shifting gears then I'm not gay. And if you didn't know quite well that I am gay, the fact that I notice every time Tim's hand goes there might give it away!

At least when Daniel played baseball with the guys a while back for a couple weeks he didn't embarrass himself based simply on his natural ability and athleticism. Me? Yeah the solo hand pump action is my only real sport I'm good at right now, and for the foreseeable future!

As I work at the music store and then the restaurant Saturday I increasingly feel a knot growing in my stomach. That is, in addition to the somersaults it's been doing since Nat cornered me last night. I'm the senior busser on tonight, so amongst out little union I get to be the one that helps get doors for customers and hangs out with the hostesses to set up party tables as needed and what not. Of course I have to help actually bus tables when a lot get up, but my manager Tripp likes a busser to always be handy for the hostesses.

So while opening the doors for customers I get mad butterflies in my stomach when Chris comes in for dinner with his family. They are a cute, typical family; a mom, a dad, a son and a daughter. I can't tell who is older by appearance, his sister or him. I say hello to his family and nod to him as they come in. I'm sure I catch his sister asking if `that's him' in reference to me. I don't have any pull at the restaurant, but I always flirt back and forth with the girl that takes names for the waiting list. She's older but calls me her cutie-petootie, so I ask her if she can squeeze them in quicker. She says that she can't, in case any customers overhear my question, but I notice that she in fact seats them in well less than half the time they should have waited.

Chris seemed to watch me very closely, and when a hostess and I go to do our routine bathroom checks he is there before I'm done. There is another older man in the washroom so Chris contains himself to a simple `hi' and a million dollar smile. Of course while I wipe the counter dry and check the soap levels I do check his ass out in the mirror as he stands at the urinal. Not bad, not bad at all, even if his dress pants are a little form-less. After shaking it and zipping up he says he'll call me tonight and is gone before I can argue.

I can't explain it, it's not like I have any expectations or premonitions about Chris. And again for the record, no I am not actively on the market for a boyfriend! With that said I can't figure why I am getting butterflies in my stomach. The whole night they just seem to keep me company no matter what I am doing. Why does my mind completely go to mush around him?

I race home as fast as public transit can get me there and wait for the phone. It rings just shortly after midnight. Chris asks me if I can meet him out front of the restaurant tomorrow morning at 9:00 a.m. Not thinking of what I might have to do in the morning, I hastily agree to meet him there. I'm not going to be able to sleep well again tonight, so instead I figure it's a good time to catch my journal up.

).:.(<<

April 6, 2000. Dear Journal:

It's well past midnight. A thick fog has rolled in, lifting my spirits. It is here where I feel most alive; somewhere in between the darkness and the light is where I am happiest. It's where I belong, shrouded from all that might see. Just me. Like a dim street lamp that one can only see when almost directly beneath it, and yet it casts not enough glow as to reveal itself for those who don't look for it. That street lamp is me. I'm here but I'm hidden in the fog, behind some branches on the wrong side of the street where most people pass me by without notice.

I like it this way. I dream of my freedom on nights like this.

Chris called like promised. I had the ringer off so that it wouldn't wake the house, but I watched for it to light up seemingly forever. I need desperately to get a cell phone, but I digress. I don't want a new boyfriend. I'm sure that's where this is headed. With Chris that is. I mean yeah, I want a boyfriend and I want to love and be loved. Don't we all? But I'm not ready to give love to someone new yet, or be loved by someone new. Plus, in my head at least, I get all of that from Tim minus the sex. I have fallen so hard for him and his straight ass has no clue thankfully. I think I love him. For everything he does for me he is my straight Daniel. Heck, he's even better than Daniel because when he does things for me he thinks we're just friends and that he has nothing to hide. Thus we have more direct contact than Daniel and I ever dared. Now I don't even know what my heart wants.

Daniel? I still love that little guy. Lives in St. Louis. Can't have him.

Tim? I've developed strong feeling for him. Truth be told, he turns me on a lot more than Daniel. His face, his eyes, his smile, his scent, his pecks, his biceps, his abs, his bulge, his butt. They all get my top ranking in the school. He's caring and considerate, and beyond open minded. Still, I know girls excite him and I don't. Can't have him.

Paul Hunter? All those qualities I mentioned about Tim? He gives Tim a run for his money in most of them. In fact I like his butt better in pinstripes than Tim's. I haven't seen the rest of his body. Can't have him. He's straight.

Nat? Uh, she's a girl. 'Nuff said.

So that leaves Chris. What If I don't ever love him? I mean, it's not necessarily going to go that way at all. It's just hopeful thinking that it will even be a relationship, let alone a good one. We may talk and he might find he hates me or I might find I can't stand him. What do I know of him really other than an awesome smile? He is good looking, but yet he never stood out to me at the restaurant for all the times he's supposedly stalked me there. But here I go again; critically overanalyzing something that hasn't yet even had a chance to happen.

I'll tell you journal, I like it here tonight, sitting at the computer in the laundry room between my actual bedroom and the kitchen, right beside the warmth of the dryer as my work uniform dries. With the door closed to the kitchen I can make this an extension of my incredibly small room. I'd roll the computer desk into my actual room like I usually do, but my room doesn't have a window and I'd rather look out into the hidden abyss tonight. Looking out the window into the deep shroud of fog I assess my life and my worth.

Yes, safe in my home at 2:00 a.m. where no one else can affect me; I can surf the net, I can look at porn and do my thing masked under the squeaking of the dryer. Or like now, I can just simply relate my cruddy life to you, Journal, as I download a ballad that Ozzy Osborne did with Lita Ford (If I Close My Eyes Forever). I am currently also listening to Def Leppard's new Euphoria CD, and flipping through the liner notes. Slightly off topic Journal, but I gotta say Rick Savage looks good in the liner pictures! And yeah for headphones! What a great invention! No longer watching for the phone I can create my own sullen world with them on and no one's the wiser.

I'll tell you about Chris's first phone call. Luckily I answered the phone. I pretended like I was talking to Tim in case anyone overheard what I was saying. I put the same limitations on the conversation as I would with anyone. Nothing sexual, nothing revealing. Just in case anyone might hear. Larry was over for dinner that night. Candace and Lacey were washing the dishes after dinner, while Larry and Mom, and Scott and Deanna waited on them to finish so that they could play cribbage.

Feeling incredibly on the spot there in the kitchen, during the one minute conversation we had I think my voice cracked 3 times. It was the usual `hi, how are you' fluff, and then I quickly brushed him off, telling him I was busy getting ready to go out for the night and he'd have to call another time. I thought that I had pushed him away. I mean let's face it, again I tell you I'm not really in the market for a new boyfriend. I can't see how I could ever be happy with Chris when I had been so happy with Daniel. Tim more than fills most of that void now. And still I feel guilty; it's great to feel wanted by someone. That was Thursday, two nights after the Beach Bash. The one good thing that came out of that debacle of a phone call was that Larry whispered to Mom that a young boy might need his own phone in a house full of women. Go Larry!

Honestly Journal, I didn't mean to come off that blunt with Chris. For what it's worth he seems like a really nice guy. Is it maybe jealousy I wonder? He is out, no question about that. He doesn't seem to get harassed about it, he has friends that look like they accept him for who he is. What's more is that they really know who he is.

Why did he have to go and develop a crush on me? Should I be mad, maybe? After all, I was with Daniel when he first started liking me. And almost a year of liking me? He's honestly been watching me for that long? Heck, that's got to go right back to when Daniel and I got jobs at the restaurant. Should I be flattered? I guess. Why then was I so short with him when he called you ask Journal?

No, no you don't ask, so I'll tell you. Duh! I'm a straight boy remember? Yeah, tits and ass! Pussy! Yum, yum, yum! I'm pretty sure that's still what my family think I like. Shhhh! Remember? I'm not gay! Only Larry knows for sure and he's never led on any different. So when Chris calls me it's hard to talk without being overheard because the one and only phone in my house is kept in the kitchen. Thus it makes most topics off limits when he is asking me things. I've explained it, and he understands, but then he forgets in the moment and presses me anyway. He apologizes, remembering what it was like being closeted, only to slip up again. Plus he has the advantage of his own phone and phone line, presumably in his own room.

Chris called again the next day, on Friday. Mom answered the phone, told me there was `a someone' on the phone for me. She gave me a coy little smile, one that says I'm on to you. Bette Midler's song, The Rose was playing on the radio. Mom winked at me and mock danced away to it.

I'll give him credit, Chris is tenacious. He wanted to do something that night, but I had to let him down because I had plans with my small group of friends. He sounded defeated when he replied that it was O.K. Somehow he again managed to reduce me to an emotionally-distraught, hopeless romantic. It gave me a lump in my throat, to cause him hurt, so I quickly suggested getting together Sunday before my shift at the restaurant. He jumped on the opportunity like a fat kid on a Smartie! By the time I was hanging up the phone I was smiling despite myself as Jennifer Rush's The Power of Love played on the radio. Mom was grinning back at me. She didn't say anything, she just winked at me again. I guess things are just starting to heat up between her and Larry because she's on a cloud. Either that or she's appropriated my stash of weed.

I'll have to check on that...brb Journal...nope, it's all still there minus what I just burned when I let Bandit out.

Now that my new Def Leppard CD is over its shelved and I am listening to Power Ballads online through Iceberg Radio. So far Stephen Tyler of Aerosmith sang sweetly to his Angel', Kansas was just strumming out Dust In The Wind', and Damn Yankees questioned if they could be taken `High Enough' before that. It's like this all the time for me. I can identify with too many songs and find meaning in them. Way too many songs in fact that I can dwell upon; finding sadness in them. But lately I don't just hear the sadness in the songs anymore, I mostly hear the hope instead. And yet for no reason in particular while I listen, I cry now, here alone in the middle of this foggy night. Bittersweet tears I suppose?

I'm somewhat nervous Journal. I don't know why. Is my anxiety somehow that below my still tightly guarded feelings of loss I actually might want a relationship? Am I kidding myself? Why do I keep going along with things and play into Chris' hand? I mean I could have just told his friend I wasn't interested and left it at that. But then I saw him. There he was, a gay boy who didn't give a shit who knows about his sexuality. Like it's nothing. So brave, so courageous. He was standing in a group of normal people, presumably his friends, and they were acting totally normal to him. He seemed so confident and sure of himself, having fun there at the beach.

I've just nodded off through Dream Weaver I believe. Now Cinderella is letting me know that we Don't Know What You Got (Till It's Gone)'. O.K. That does it. Again, I'm crying now. The guitar solo seemed so inspiring when I was with Daniel and now it seems so hollow and lonely. Of course I attach these emotions to the songs. Still, all it takes to reduce me to tears over Daniel is a simple song. The Scorpions' Send Me An Angel' is followed up by Toto's I'll Be Over You'. After Night Ranger's Sister Christian' plays Queensryche's Silient Lucidity' raises the question if it's all just a dream before paving the way for Def Leppard's Have You Ever Wanted Someone So Bad'. Then Europe's `Carrie' comes on, which questions if maybe we'll meet again, somewhere, somehow. I sing along to the song in my head, tears flowing freely down my face. I've had it.

Something drew me to him. And then I saw how gentle and vulnerable he is too, like myself, when I went over with his friend and she told him. Seeing his face, his reaction at her news, my heart cried out for him because I know what it feels like. Well not exactly, his momentary loss and sadness pale in comparison to mine, but I still know what he instantly felt. O.K. Yes. I want to get to know him. I want to be accepted. I want a friend who knows I'm queer and it doesn't matter to. In fact I guess you could say that I want his life. But do I want him? Hmmm. I don't know how or why, but yes.

There. There it is. I want to be with Chris. He wants to be with me. I don't know him and I am so fucking unbelievably nervous. What if he meets me and doesn't like me. What if he doesn't want to be with me because I am a closet case? What if he outs me? He sounds gay, really. Will hanging out with him give me away to people too? But can I learn his confidence? Can I steal his self worth? Haha. Why am I such a looser? Most importantly, am I now afraid to love and be loved?

I need to kick this depression. That's got to be what it is. Trying to change my mood I switch to the 80's Hair Bands channel but that doesn't last long as Bon Jovi's Wanted Dead Or Alive' gives way to Tesla's Love Song'. Finally an uplifting song. It's both that and melancholy, but I see the up side. Off goes the computer as Traci Guns starts the intro guitar riff into L.A. Guns' `Never Enough'. Not that I don't love L.A. Guns, but because I am fucked up beyond belief on emotions, and a little green I smoked not too long ago, having tormented myself with song after song.

And on top of that I am meeting Chris in 6 hours now and I just don't even want to think about it. Wish me luck Journal,

Jon.

).:.(<<

I grab my copy of George R.R. Martin's A Clash of Kings'. I loved his first book in the series called A Game of Thrones', and am completely albeit secretly, lost in the realm of this author's imagination while I wait on Robert Jordon's next installment of The Wheel of Time and Stephen King's next offering to The Dark Tower, if and when he ever gets around to it again.

By 4:00 a.m. I put another 50 page dent into the book while frequently nodding off, but I still have yet to manage to fall asleep. I give up on the book because I can't recall what I've just read, and try to sleep. It's got to be closing on 5:00 a.m. when I start to fitfully sleep. By 7:20 I am sick and tired of waking up every 10 minutes or so, so I get out of bed and head for the flush. Once I've relieved my bladder I head to the kitchen and grab some juice before grabbing my uniform from the dryer and deciding on what the hell I should wear for my (date?) with Chris.

I know it's perverted but I masturbate in the shower this morning as I really need to settle my anxiety. I do get afforded a lot of privacy at home, but still it's the only place I get enough guaranteed privacy during the daytime to get a quick one off before anyone gets suspicious as to what the hell I'm up to. Looking at my body as the water cascades over me I wish I had a treasure trail. I personally think they are so sexy, but I guess being basically smooth works too. After shaving my sac and crack so the only hair down there is a patch above my dick, I get right down to business under the running water. If I don't I'm liable to shoot off in my shorts with Chris today! I've been exploring myself more lately, trying to add a physical aspect to my mental image of Daniel and now Tim inside me, like I sometimes did with a wine bottle in bed. A few weeks back I got off the bus on the way home from the restaurant and braved an adult shop. The guy behind the counter was so awkward when I walked up to the counter with a Super Ballsy Cock that he didn't say a word other than give me the total. I'm sure he knew I would be picturing guys like Tim when I use the toy, maybe that's why he couldn't find his voice to ID me.

That image in my head of Tim? That's what I really want. I know I haven't experienced it with a girl, and I've only actually bottomed once for that matter, but there can be no better feeling than the way two guys hips connect. With Daniel lying down on my bed, as deep inside me as he could go, it was so incredible the way the front of his hips pressed against my butt and hips. The sex was uncomfortable at best, but after moving up and down on him only a few times I was in ecstasy. It hardly took any jerking on my part to make myself spray all over him. And right then as I tensed up I could feel his body spasm and his hips thrust up hard against me as he filled the condom. We were almost in sync with each other.

I cried; it was all too much. With him still solid inside me I leaned forward and made out madly with him. I professed my love for him then, quoting Cheap Trick's `The Flame' telling him he was the first and wherever he goes I'll be with him. That feeling is what I have silently longed for since. Yes, of course the emotional bliss, but also the physical connection that was created in the presence of that emotional part. In that moment I wished I could have remained forever connected to him physically; it just felt so right.

So I've showered, have my work uniform in a gym bag over my shoulder, and am about to head out the door to catch the bus. I've picked out a pair of light tan cargo's and a damn expensive white, red and black Quicksilver shirt. I've gone with a fresh new pair of red 2(x)ist sports briefs that were to be a match for the pair I planned on giving Daniel for Valentine's day. I choose white ankle socks because I only have a single pair of grey, red and black runners for shoes aside from my dress shoes and work shoes. I labour over styling my hair so that it's `just so' and spray myself with too much Polo Sport. Maybe I should bring that and my deodorant with me because I am sweating! Then, being me, I peel off my cargo's and grab Tim's jeans from a pile on the dryer. I'll have to wash then for a third time, but they get me noticed... so damn it I'm pressing them into service!

As soon as I get off the bus I see Chris just down the street parked in front of the restaurant, by the road. From the distance, maybe 300 feet, he looks quite good. My breath hitches momentarily, my already racing heart is in my throat and I have mad butterflies in my stomach. Last chance to bail out. No, he's smiling at me. He's seen me already. Well here I am, here goes! I walk as casually as possible around his Jeep. I fumble getting into it, the lack of a door throwing me off.

"Nice wheels," I compliment.

"Yeah, I hoped you'd like them. My Dad's probably going to give me one soon because I keep harassing him to bring this one home from the dealership. My Mom hates it, says it's not safe," he replies through an absolutely beaming smile.

He reaches over to kiss me. I don't lean towards him, fuck that, I'm not `out'! The radio is playing. Duran Duran's Ordinary World leads into a pop/dance song called One For Sorrow, by a British group named Steps. I've heard the song before, but at the moment here in Chris's car it really moves me. Fuck, thoughts of Daniel are making my eyes well up a bit. Not enough for tears, but still, I hide them as I apologize for not kissing him by trying on his sunglasses that were on my seat.

"Don't worry. I didn't think. I'm the one that should be sorry for trying that in front of your work," Chris corrects me, before asking, "So what do you want to do?"

I say, "I dunno. It's your big plan. What did you have in mind?"

A big, and I mean hugely big grin flashes in response.

Defensive, feeling on the spot I snap back in response, "We're not going there Chris. Not today. Look, I'm really nervous about all of this. Can we just get going somewhere so that someone from work doesn't see me?"

"Not to worry stud. I don't fuck on the first date so chillax. I was just teasing. You asked what I had in mind, and fucking you is all I've had in mind since I first saw you. I can hold off a bit longer. But I do want to have my way with your gorgeous body sooner than later!" He says it as it is.

Shifting in my seat as he starts to back out of the parking spot I notice a few X-Man comics in a bag behind his seat. I've seen a few at Tim's; his brothers Sam and Will are rabid X-Men and Spiderman fans respectively. I've been intrigued by them, but I don't pick one up to look at because Tim shows no interest in them. So how can I then? In a different element here, knowing that they must belong to Chris, I pick them up to look at. The first one has a Japanamation cover of Iceman and some chick. Fuck, is it stupid that I think Iceman actually looks hot? It is a comic after all! Man, I know it's spring and all, but really? A cartoon drawing gets my blood flowing?

Chris is slightly red in the cheeks at my discovery. He's actually cute when I see him up close. To break the moment he suggests, "How about we swing by my place this afternoon. I don't want to go there just yet until my family goes to the church fundraiser brunch though. Maybe we can go catch a matinee or something?"

"I dunno. The malls aren't open and I can't think of any place that shows matinees this early in the morning. Why aren't you with your family at church?" I argue.

"My parents go out of guilt to my grandparents, but they feel that I shouldn't have to be subjected to a religion that denounces and admonishes me," he informs before whining, "Well what do you want to do then?"

"Hmm. How about breakfast somewhere," I offer, my mind so in a fog somehow that I can't recall if I even ate this morning.

Seeing a billboard up ahead, in unison we both say "Denny's." So Denny's it is.

It's only a block away from my work, so we have to turn around to go to it because we've already passed it.

Focusing on the dashboard of the Jeep because I don't particularly like the lack of a door beside me, it dawns on me who Chris might be. Milner. As in the son of either Dom or Mitch Milner of the Milner Auto Mall dealership. Those two guys do their own commercials and I can see a resemblance with Chris.

So I ask him, "Does your Dad own the dealership?"

He sheepishly replies, "Yeah, sorta. He and Uncle Mitch mostly took over for Grandpa after he retired a couple years ago."

"So you're Chris Milner then?" I state the obvious.

He rebuffs me, "Yeah, and you're Jon Farrrows. It doesn't change things right?"

"No. I guess not. But now I'm embarrassed." I offer.

"Embarrassed? Why?"

"Well you probably live in a huge mansion in one of those gated communities and I live in the slums." I explain.

"Jon. It doesn't matter to me. Where you live doesn't change who you are." He says, I guess with sincerity.

O.K. Wait a minute. Is this banter or is this totally honest. I don't really know. Do I drop my guard and be open and honest like I want to, or do I protect myself and see how it plays out, giving him holes to see through, but not fully exposing myself. What does it matter though? I'm not sure I'm good enough to pull either off!

Well here goes, rebuffing him I say, "Easy for you to say. So why do you like me anyway, you just think I'm cute and want to screw me and move onto another conquest?"

Ouch. Is this what hurt looks like on his face? It must be. His beaming smile is replaced by ever so slightly trembling lips. His bright eyes are suddenly plain, the corners narrowed as if unconsciously wincing.

I can catch a hint of hurt in his voice when he answers, "That's not how it is at all Jon. If I never get to have sex with you I'd be fine. I mean, well, I don't know. Sure, I get all horny over you and want to fuck your brains out, but if I can't I'll live just fine. I don't know. I'm sure I sound silly, but from the first time I saw you it was weird, you know? I just had to know you somehow, if you can understand."

Yes, I know what that's like, and yes, I get it, I really get it. For the first time in my life I am momentarily in sync with another person. Chris is feeling as completely insecure and unsure as me. He doesn't have a master plan, he doesn't even have the next move planned out. He is just a more expressive and obviously gay teenage male than me. But he isn't the super confident, what's-it-matter-to-you, proud queer I thought he was. He is just a normal guy, with normal feelings and desires, only the fact that he is obviously gay has made him comfortable with his sexuality while I still try to hide mine at all costs.

"Shit, Chris. I'm sorry. I look at you and I think because you are out that you are more than me. You know? Like I feel totally nervous around you. I guess I'm intimidated by you."

"By me? HA! Capital h. Capital a. Exclamation! No one's intimidated by me!"

"Well you intimidate me. You're gay and people know. You still have friends and even straight ones. Maybe you don't see it but that makes you like a god, or a superhero or something."

We mutually feel awkward now. Chris had parked a couple minutes ago, so to avoid the subject from getting any further he undoes his seat belt, quickly squeezes my hand after looking for anyone watching, and hops out of the jeep. "Let's go in, alright?"

It feels strange going to breakfast with Chris. During our wait to be seated, it feels like because we know that we're on a date that everyone around knows too. I tell myself that we look like any two guys, no one gives a shit one way or the other. But when the seater asks us if it's just the two of us she says so in a knowing voice. She looks us up and down, smiles and the tone in her voice gives her bigotry away. At least that's the inflection I think I notice. Chris doesn't follow her, so I stay with him.

"Did you see her smirk and roll her eyes to the other girl?" He loudly asks me.

The girl taking names looks our way and asks, "Is everything O.K.?"

"Well, no Liz," Chris says after looking at her nametag, "everything's not O.K. Tell Wendy to drop the attitude." And with that Chris turns and heads for the door. I can only follow suit.

At the door a manager opens the door for us and asks how everything was. Chris says we decided not to wait.

Ignoring the situation Chris asks, "So. Where to now?"

Looking across the road both our eyes settle on the friendly golden arches so we walk across to McDonalds.

Breakfast there is quick, we don't really talk much because we are both nervous and in a really crowded restaurant. Chris of course insists on paying for me and I feel somewhat mad at that, again I feel inferior and poor. I have money, I can pay for myself thank you very much. Why does he have to be a dick and insist? I guess he's doing it in a chivalrous way, but still it's a slap to my pride.

Waiting until I finish the last bite of my pancake breakfast Chris asks, "So. What now?"

Full of great ideas I offer my best as we gather our garbage and pick up our drinks to head outside, "Well, I don't know. What do you want to do?"

"Kiss you. Feel those soft shiny red lips of yours." He says with a nervous laugh.

"Right here?" I ask.

He affirms "No, I wouldn't put you on the spot here."

"Why not?" I boldly question as I deposit the garbage from our trays.

"Yeah right. Whatever." Chris brushes me off.

In the hour we've spent together I feel alive with Chris I've discover. I feel somehow completely emboldened by him. So I counter, "Why not? Right here. Just a quick one?"

"Yeah right," he laughs, choking on some orange juice that he must have snorted into his nose.

O.K. The moment has passed. I'm completely chickening out now anyhow so we let the moment pass as we reach the doors.

Stopping dead in his tracks and suddenly turning and heading away from the doors Chris announces, "I have to go to the washroom, come with me."

So I follow him to the washroom. He does his thing at the urinal and then washes his hands. I of course try to check him out, but get nothing. So I stare at his ass as he dries his hands under the dryer. It's becoming a regular thing for me to check his ass out in public washrooms it seems!

The room is momentarily empty except for us so Chris turns with his trademark grin and plants the quickest, most gentle peck on me. About to ask what the hell he's doing, my lips are open as we connect. Chris kisses my teeth. We both laugh nervously. Hearing the outer door to the washroom opening I speedily lean in to him and plant a real peck on his lips and pull away before the new person enters through the second washroom door. Heading out of the place we are both beaming with smiles. As corny as the thought is I can't help but think that at least it's a place where smiles are free!

Why does everything in me feel so good suddenly?

Hopping in the Jeep Chris again asks me, "So any bright ideas?"

"Nope, none." I say in dismay. I don't want this to go down this way. I want to get to know him suddenly. Like really get to know him and be close to him unlike an hour ago where I was mildly curious about what he was like and what it would be like to be like him.

He offers a solution, "O.K. Well how about we swing by my place? It's not the best idea, and you might feel completely uneasy, so if you do just say so. But at least we can be a bit relaxed rather than feel like we have to do something and like everyone is watching us?"

Hmm. What to do? Just as my Mom seems to be lately, I'm on a fucking cloud. A nice bright, soft, fluffy cloud that I don't want to get off of. I fully hear what he says, I fully understand what he says, I even think that he's completely sincere in his reasoning and not just trying to get me into his bed. But it's again like I'm on autopilot. Only this time, with Chris my autopilot is pushing me forward rather than pulling me back like it did with Daniel. I hear my response and almost wonder who said it, "Sure. I'd like that."

"O.K." Big breath, Chris seems nervous now. How good it feels to realize that he's going through the exact same insecurities as me! He cautions me, "Now look. I'm not trying to show off or anything, O.K. You have to understand that. My house is big and I don't want you to hate me for it or think anything about me at all because of it. It's my parent's house, not mine. I'm just a seventeen year old kid who lives there with them. Got it?"

"Uh, yeah, sure."

Chris squeezes my hand again before backing out of the parking spot.

We drive for a couple minutes before he comes up to an immaculately treed street. After passing a few dozen really nice houses on each side of the street a boulevard starts in the middle of the street and widens to a picturesque park. Not a kids park with swings and sea-saws, but an adults park with a fountain and a pagoda.

Halfway through the park, on the right hand side of the split Chris turns into a tree covered driveway. Passing under about a dozen trees on both sides the driveway opens up and a massive three level house is revealed. I had caught a glimpse of the imposing size, it's manicured flower beds and grass before we turn into the laneway and was impressed. Now seeing it, I can understand the disclaimer he had given me prior. I gasp.

"Yeah. This is my home. It really not that big, just old and stately. It's actually my Grandparent's but we've lived here since they retired to Boca Raton a few years back. Don't hate me for it O.K.?"

"Chris, this is amazing. It's so huge." I gape.

"Not that huge, you'll see. My parents have to be gone now, how about we hit the pool?"

I could protest that I don't have anything for the pool but that's obvious to both of us. At least I think so, which I also think is another reason he even offered it. So I just agree, "Sure, sounds cool."

That sets off his gift to gab, "Sweet! Do you want to skinny dip or can I at least see you naked when you change? I have tons of Speedos and some awesome ones that should fit you perfectly. You look like you're the same build as me, I'm guessing you're between 5'10" and 6'. I'm 150 lbs, so you're probably the same. Just one unmentionable measurement that I can only leave for discovery. Or if you're modest I have lifeguard shorts too that would look hot on you; show off you're wicked tan!"

My heart is pounding in my throat, my hands are sweaty, my shirt is soaked in the armpits. But I am curious too, "What the Hell, show me what you got. Where's your room?"

Pointing to the right hand side of the house he says, "It's a corner apartment, sort of. I have a bedroom in the front corner over there on the top floor and a couple rooms that join it."

Chris walks me purposely in through the garage entrance, impressive enough in itself that eight cars can park in it. It looks like it used to be an old coach house. We walk down rich wood floors and corridors to a grand staircase in the back corner of the house that boasts a view of the whole back yard through it's many paneled windows. The top floor is equally as impressive as the part of the main floor that I saw as we walk down the hallway to his rooms. His rooms are a slight contradiction to the rest of the house. Everything in the house is so formal and tasteful, and then his rooms looks like any other teenagers room, except much bigger. He has posters of rock bands, a guitar and drums, and a trophy shelf. He has clothes on the floor, and plates and glasses by his computer and his T.V. and game consoles. He leads me to the bedroom toward the front of the house, which has poster upon poster of an Australian swimmer named Ian Thorpe. Some are very homoerotic the way he has them collaged on his wall.

Stating the obvious I comment, "So, you're into swimming."

"Yeah, you could say that. My parents tried to get me into rowing when they made me go to private school but I prefer swimming and diving. Except the coaches of one don't like you to do the other and I don't know what I like more." As he saying this he's toeing off his shoes and then pulling his shirt off and tossing it onto a dresser. Looking at me he pauses and then slides open a dresser drawer and offers, "Sorry. I forgot my manners. If you want to change in another room I totally understand I guess. So did you want the shorts or the Speedo?"

"Well the way you raise you eyebrow at the Speedo I guess I'll go with that. I've never worn one before though, so don't stare or I'll probably pee myself in your pool." I tried to laugh it off. Problem is my little friend currently is pointing directly north in Tim's jeans as I stare at his shorts sitting below a white underwear band that also is sitting low on his exposed hips. Chris is completely smooth, no hair even on his legs or arms and I can see that as low as his shorts are sitting that there certainly is no treasure trail either.

He fishes out a navy blue Speedo with white and red stars and stripes designs on it. Handing it to me he holds my hand, pulls me towards him and kisses me. He reaches into his drawer again and pulls out a thin white jockstrap. We start kissing pretty passionately and next thing I notice his hand is rubbing the jockstrap over my borrowed pants along the length of the shaft of my dick. We stumble-walk over to the bed, keeping our lips locked the whole time. My face feels flush, I know my cheeks are burning red like when I get embarrassed. Thing is though, I'm not embarrassed. At least I don't think so.

My hand has slipped under the waistband of his briefs, and now is exploring Chris's member. It feels slightly longer than mine, and as it gets more aroused I judge it to be at least as thick as mine. His free hand moves from the back of my neck to my chest and he firmly pushes me onto the bed. I want this to happen. A split second decision has given me the green light rather than saying that I don't want this. I just want it to be gentle. I want Chris to go down on me and make love to me. He certainly has a talent for the way he's getting my body excited. I'm guessing he has a lot more experience than me.

Chris peels off my shirt, unfastens my belt and has my pants at my knees deftly, almost maintaining our kissing the whole way. I fumble with his shorts for a while until he hooks his thumbs under the waistband and shucks them with style. Oh geez, yeah he is well enough endowed. As long as mine and super smooth; the wet, pulsating tip of his penis is staring at me, having escaped the waistband of his odd briefs as he has me lying back on his bed. He is straddling me and as I look for signs of a tan line I see nothing.

I flip upright into a sitting position and as he kneels upright I hook an arm around his waist and he falls over onto his side on the bed. I want his dick so bad I'm shaking. Just as I'm about to engulf it into my mouth for the first tentative time Chris puts the breaks on, "Jon, stop. I'm ready for this, but are you?"

"Oh fuck yeah, Chris. You're too good to pass up on. I knew that the moment I saw you, and you're extremely nice to boot. I want to make you happy Chris. Let me?"

"You're so sweet Jon. I'd love for you to, I only wanted to make sure you were cool with it because of what you said earlier about not going here today."

"I wasn't comfortable with you then."

"And you are now?"

"Not really," I laugh.

Chris laughs back until I touch the tip of his beautiful tool with my tongue. Then he gasps. We're on our sides, our faces buried in each other's crotches. I can smell his soap, I can smell the man musk on his briefs. And now I can taste the smooth, clean flesh as it searches out the back of my mouth.

Chris slips my jeans the rest of the way off and then grabs at the pouch of my 2(x)ist sports briefs, slipping the pouch off to the side of my dick. I want to see and taste all of Chris so I try to slip his briefs off. They are Armani boxer-briefs, with really short legs and a really nice ribbed pattern to them. (trunks he later corrects me) But I am clumsy as usual so Chris raises his hips, slips them down to his knees, and then off. Again, he does so with grace. I grab them from his hand and use the soft material to rub the globes of his ass with as I try with my all to swallow Chris to the base. When a finger slips in between his cheeks I discover that he is entirely smooth. The only hair on his whole body is his short light golden blonde top, his eyelashes, and his trimmed eyebrows.

He touches me in a way indicating that he wants me to lift my hips up. I do as he motions for me to. Plop, my dick is now totally free from the underwear and he is slipping them down my legs and hooking them free of my feet. As he does so he bottoms out in my mouth and his sac is briefly directly under my nose. There is a slightly tangy smell, and his legs are moist in the folds between them and his sac. As his attention starts to focus on my swollen member I leave his alone and start tonguing this newly exposed area around his ball sac. His moans and wild thrashing instantly tell me that I have found a good spot for him. My nose is nearly in his bud as he repositions his top leg to allow me maximum access. He is going wild, deep throating me and exploring my ass crack with a finger when I start to lick the area of skin directly behind his sac. I work this area alternately, while letting my tongue discover his bud in between, my hand jacking his dick all the while.

I don't think I am giving him near the pleasure that he is giving me when he warns me, "Step off Jon, I'm gonna blow! I'm about to cum!"

Like that bother's me! Duh! That's the whole idea, silly! So I continue on and suddenly my tongue is forced out of his bud forcefully and I get rewarded with a few warm splashes on my neck and chest. I'm nearing orgasm myself when he pulls off to warn me, and then again when he reaches orgasm and stops his attention on my dick.

"Oh, man! Thank you, Jon!" He pants, "Are you close?"

"I was, but I've lost it." I inform him.

Chris twists me on my back in response and starts favouring me the way I had just done to him. I start jacking off as his tongue whips me back into the throws of ecstasy. He senses I am starting to get close so he stops and slides up my torso. Sucking up all of his load that he can off of me he returns to my bud and forces it and his tongue in as far as my body will allow. I am thrashing, my hips and legs are bucking but still after a few mini orgasms I can't climax. Chris's tongue is quickly replaced with not one but two wiggling fingers and his mouth takes me to the base again, resting his nose in my bush every time he bobs down on me. Fuck yeah! That does it.

"Oh Chris! I'm gonna cum!" I warn.

Chris backs off on the deep throating, keeping the tip of me still in his warm mouth and uses his free hand to jack me off while his other hand is double penetrating me and his thumb is massaging the area behind my balls. It's the second time this morning I cum, and as Chris captures my seed I feel faint. Like a pro he slips his fingers out of me while I am still shooting so that I don't feel discomfort after. Once I'm done he slinks his now slick body up my equally sweaty body and presents my mouth with the gift he just captured. We make out for a little while, both swallowing my load. We then snuggle our now spent bodies together as we regain our breaths. Man, we smell, but what a smell! I think I could get used to him real easily.

Fumbling around Chris finds the swimmer's jock and the Speedo he'd previously offered me and says, "Let's go for a swim, Sexy."

As my euphoria fades, I've got mad butterflies in my stomach again. Ah fuck! Fuck, fuck, FUCK! What have I just done?

[to be continued]