Tim and the Corsair Chapter 1 This story concerns teenage gay males who are involved in sexual situations. If it is illegal for you to read such stories, or if you do not like to read such stories, please leave now.
This story is copyright 2006 by the author who retains all rights.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
This is my second submission to Nifty. This is a continuation of “Kiel’s Story” which was last posted on 7/24/06. It is not necessary to read “Kiel’s Story” to enjoy this, but it may help you understand where the character relationships started. Any comments or questions are welcome at: carl_holiday@att.net
A warm thank you goes out to all who’ve written. I appreciate knowing someone is actually reading this stuff. I try to respond to all, including flames, but time is precious and if I haven't answered your email, I apologize.
Tim and the Corsair
by Carl Holiday
Chapter 1 – The Big Red “I”
I have to go to school tomorrow after being away for nearly a month, but first Tim is taking me to meet his Uncle Jerry. We’re taking him to lunch down on the waterfront. Uncle Jerry was a Corsair pilot in WWII and was shot down after getting a bunch of medals “simply for being a damned good pilot.” He lost his right foot, left hand, and dick and balls. According to Tim he’s lucky to be alive. I’m a little nervous about meeting him.
We’re in Tim’s car. It’s a ’53 Ford Coupe. It has a bad case of skin cancer, but runs good. His dad had it overhauled, so Tim would have reliable wheels. Tim is four months older than me and got his license last summer; and, his parents gave him the car when he came home. They’re rich, but you’d never know it from the way Tim acts.
The first thing most people notice about Tim is that he looks like he’s maybe twelve or thirteen, not sixteen. He’s got a hormone problem and puberty is taking its time. We’ve known each other for only a few months, but we’re a lot closer because we both had the same best friend since attending Licton Springs Elementary, only we didn’t know about it until the very end. Stevie died in a horrible accident. I tried to kill myself because of it. Tim almost had a party because Stevie was forcing Tim to have sex with him. Like they say, there are always two sides to every story. Tim had a bad experience and I had a good one. Now, knowing what was happening to Tim has kind of forced me to reevaluate my friendship with Stevie.
“You’re awfully quiet today,” Tim said as the car did a little wiggle in its lane. Tim can’t talk and drive. He’s a killer on the tennis court, can swim like a fish, and sucks dick like a pro, but if you get him behind the wheel of a car don’t you dare say a word or you’re going to hear cars honking all over the place.
“Watch where you’re driving,” I said. “Listen to the radio. It’s a lot more interesting than my problems.”
“Are you going to be able to go tomorrow?”
“Yeah, just a little nervous. Not everyone gets to spend time in a shrink shop and come out without a big red “I” stapled to their forehead.”
“What red “I”?”
“Like the Scarlet Letter only this one stands for insane. Kids are going to find out.”
“You’re being paranoid. No one knows shit.”
“Someone knows and they’ll tell everyone. People are going to avoid me like the plague.”
“So, what? How many friends do you have at school?”
“Well, you, Monica, and maybe Mark, but you know I don’t want to be his friend. There was that other guy, but we won’t mention his name, okay?”
“No, we don’t say his name.”
His name was Kiel. He murdered his parents and older sister, nearly killed me, and brutally assaulted my five year old sister. I wanted Kiel to be my friend, but he was crazier than me, only no one knew until it was too late. I tried really hard being his friend, but now I kind of wish I’d left him alone. You just never know about some people.
I like Tim because he’s trying real hard to be my friend. He knows I have mental problems, but it doesn’t matter. He likes me no matter what’s wrong with me.
“There’s Uncle Jerry over there in front of his apartment building,” Tim said suddenly doing a U-turn in the middle of Columbia Way causing four lanes of cars to honk their horns.
“Nice trick. Did you father teach you?”
“Yeah, but don’t tell him. I don’t think I was supposed to learn that maneuver. You’re going to have to sit in the backseat. Uncle Jerry has to sit up front.”
When Tim stopped at the curb, I jumped out. Uncle Jerry was standing a few feet from me. He had to be in his early forties, but he looked a lot younger. His black hair was neatly trimmed short. His closely shaved face was more round than long, had a small nose, and his ears weren’t the same size. It sort of gave him a lopsided appearance. There was a hook where his left hand used to be. The right hand was missing the little finger. I was staring.
“It’s all right, son,” Uncle Jerry said. “If you think I look bad now, you should see me naked. Hi, my name is Jerry Chambers. You must be Geoff Johnson.”
I mumbled something incoherent and shook his hand. His grip was strong, firm. I hoped mine was acceptable.
“You’ve got a good looking boyfriend, Tim,” Uncle Jerry said after he closed the door. “Is he a good fuck or are you still bottoming?”
I stopped breathing and died. I wanted out of the car. Then Tim opened his mouth.
“I did it once, but I still have a short fuse,” Tim said, overadjusting the wiggle causing the car to nearly swerve out of its lane. More cars announced their disapproval of Tim’s poor driving skills. “I mostly suck him. All Geoff has to do is kiss me and I come. Sometimes I come when I’m sucking him. It’s pretty pathetic.”
“He likes being fucked then.”
“Oh, yeah, well you know what happened to him with Kiel.”
“That kid deserves to burn in Hell for twenty eternities. So, Geoff, you like a big dick up your ass?”
“Uh, yeah,” I mumbled, too shocked to say anything out loud. Who was this man? Tim’s uncle, his sex ed teacher, or some pervert?
“Well, I guess you’re kind ’a out of luck with the two of us. Right, Tim?”
“Boy, ain’t that the truth.”
Thank god nothing more was said until we were down on the waterfront looking for a place to park. I have three uncles and none of them are anything like Uncle Jerry. I was beginning to wonder what exactly was his relationship with Tim. Then I got out of the car and felt a hand on my ass.
“Nice ass, Geoff,” Uncle Jerry whispered in my ear. “I bet you’re a good fuck, too. You like it long and slow, or quick like Tim?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered. I wanted out of this. I wanted to walk uptown and catch a bus home, but Uncle Jerry had his arm around my waist.
“Come on, Uncle Jerry, quit trying to make out with my friend,” Tim said. “You’re going to scare him.”
“Oh, I’ve already scared him. I’m surprised he hasn’t pissed his pants.”
“Come on, Geoff, we’ll go get a table,” Tim said, pulling my arm. Uncle Jerry got in another quick feel on my ass before Tim pulled me away.
“He likes you,” Tim said.
“Sounds like he wants something,” I said, looking back at Uncle Jerry. He smiled and gave a little wave.
“Well, he can’t do anything. Just humor him, okay? Try to laugh it off, it’ll go a lot easier.”
“Are you mad at me?”
“God, Geoff, quit being so submissive. Slap his hand away from your ass if you don’t want him touching you. If you don’t stop him now, he’ll have your dick out of your pants quicker than you can say Christopher Columbus sailed the ocean blue.”
“And, what will he do with it?”
“Put it in his mouth and give you the best blow job you’ve ever had.”
“You’re kidding. Tell me you’re kidding.”
“Uncle Jerry doesn’t have a dick, okay? I told you that. When they stitched him together they made him look kind of like a woman, only he hates that. He’s kind of okay with not having a dick, but that slit between his legs embarrasses the hell out of him. He overcompensates by getting very sexual with my friends. He sucked Stevie. I was there when he did it, too. Stevie wouldn’t let me take him back.”
“What about Kiel?”
“Never had a chance to take Kiel to see Uncle Jerry.”
“What about you?”
“God, Geoff, what are you sick our something? No, wait, I’m sorry. That wasn’t being nice. No, Uncle Jerry hasn’t tried to do anything to me.”
“Family, huh?”
“Yeah, family, but he’ll do you if you’re not careful. Just tell him to stop and he’ll leave you alone.”
I do not like seafood. Fish is okay, sometimes, but clams, oysters, shrimp, and crabs are arthropods like insects and spiders. Insects of the sea. Imagine a big, juicy ant and you’ll know why I do not eat bugs of the sea. I ordered a hamburger. Tim had the Captain’s Plate, lots of different bugs. Uncle Jerry had sautéed prawns, big bugs in butter and garlic.
I did not like being in that restaurant with a sex fiend like Uncle Jerry. I couldn’t help imagining him with my dick in his mouth. I tried looking out the window at the waterfront, but it was November, raining, and cold. The seagulls were huddling together along the piers. What boats that were out were working boats, tugs, ferries, and a couple small freighters. No pleasure boats. It was the beginning of the gray drearies.
“Hey, Geoff, come to Earth and join the party,” Uncle Jerry said bumping my foot with his.
“Huh, oh, sorry,” I mumbled, not looking at him. I wanted to go home. There wasn’t anything there for me, but at least I wouldn’t have to be with this man.
“You ever go to the john here?” Uncle Jerry asked.
“Uh, no,” I said, not liking this line of conversation, either.
“Come on, I need to pee. They’ve got a guy in a tux in there who’ll wipe your ass for a buck. Come on, get your ass out of the booth. I’ll give him a twenty and he’ll lick yours with his big soggy tongue.”
I looked at Tim, but he only shrugged. Now was the time to put my foot down. I needed to do something about this man. So, I slid out and followed Uncle Jerry to the men’s room. I looked back at Tim. He shook his head and turned away.
“Hurry up, Geoff, I don’t want you peeing your pants, again,” Uncle Jerry said loud enough for a couple booths of people to hear. “God, kids these days.”
I think he thought he was being funny. I was very close to hating him, only I can’t hate someone, it’s not in me.
The restroom was huge, but there wasn’t a man in a tuxedo. There was a little kid standing in one of the stalls with his pants pulled down. The door was open showing his little bare ass. He was peeing.
“Come on, Geoff, back here,” Uncle Jerry said beckoning from the last stall.
All I had to do was turn and go back out the door. I didn’t have to follow Uncle Jerry. I didn’t have to do this. I locked the stall’s door and turned to see Uncle Jerry sitting on the toilet. There was quite a lot of room in there. He took hold of my hand and pulled me towards him. I shut my eyes, not wanting to watch.
The toilet flushed.
“Come on, let’s go,” Uncle Jerry said. “You thought I was going to suck your dick, didn’t you?”
“Uh, yeah,” I mumbled. He was standing close to me, close enough to kiss me.
“You’re a good kid and Tim’s been feeding you a line of bull, but here’s my phone number. Go on, take it. If you ever need to talk about shit, anything, give me a call. I’m not a bad guy. I’m not family. Okay?”
“Yeah, sure,” I said, taking the slip of paper and putting it in my wallet.
“I do know one thing, Geoff. You need to laugh more. Who’s your favorite comedian on television?”
“I don’t watch TV.”
“You don’t watch TV? What do you do? Jerk off all the time?”
“I read a lot.”
“Smart, huh?”
“I had to take the IQ test four times because I kept getting too high of a score and every time I took it the score kept getting higher. They finally figured out I was just getting good at taking the test.”
“Off the scale?”
“Almost.”
“Where are you going to college?”
“Harvard, maybe MIT, I guess.”
“Go to Columbia. It’s in New York.”
“I know where it is. I’ve been there.”
“I went there.”
We were back at the table. Tim was finishing his meal. He eats slowly, too slow.
“Are you good with math?”
“Sort of, I’m better at languages, and logic. My Uncle Walter wants me to go to USC, his alma mater. My mother wants me to go to Cornell, her father, my grandfather went there. I’ve got a few years to decide.”
“You could probably go now.”
“Yeah, but I couldn’t take Tim.”
“Take me where?” Tim asked. He looked like he hadn’t been listening, startled out of some teenage reverie. I hoped it was me he was thinking of, I don’t know what I’d do if he was thinking of someone else.
---------------------
It was raining. Drizzling, actually. Thick, drizzly fog. You can’t use an umbrella because it’s raining just as much horizontally as vertically. Pleasant shit. Mother and I were in Principal Jennings office, he was reading the letter from Doctor Randall. He was slowly shaking his head, not smiling, this wasn’t going well.
“I assume Geoff is on medication?” He asked.
“Yes, he takes a pill at breakfast and another at dinner,” Mother said. She was using her official voice, the one she uses with lawyers and salesmen.
“I’m not certain we can facilitate Geoff’s readmission,” Principal Jennings said. He wasn’t looking at either of us. “We have liability issues. With Geoff’s, uh, illness we would be concerned about the safety of the other students.”
“He’s not a danger to himself or others,” Mother said. She was still holding her ace. “That can be validated in court if you desire.”
“You see, I don’t know if I have the authority to allow Geoff back into our school,” he said. He was looking nervous, sweat was beading on his forehead.
“Call your lawyer,” Mother said.
“Why would I want to do that?”
“Because I’m serving you this court order,” Mother said, handing the principal a little document Doctor Randall gave her when I checked out of the psycho hospital. “We, Geoff’s psychiatrist, my lawyers, and I anticipated this. Call your lawyer Principal Jennings.”
“Uh, well, yes, I guess I’d better,” he said as he rose from his desk. “Geoff, I think it’s best if you go on to class. This is going to take some time and will probably end up in your favor, anyway. Mrs. Johnson, I’ll advise the school district.”
“Thank you, Mr. Jennings,” Mother said rising from her chair. “Geoff, now you call if you need anything. Okay?”
“Yes, Mother.”
Monica and Tim were waiting for me outside the principal’s office. I shrugged a greeting and walked out into the hall. I had the red “I” stapled to my forehead good and proper. It was only a matter of time before some student made something of my absence.
“Hey, Geoff, sorry about Kiel,” Stewy Martin said, walking past us toward the first floor boy’s restroom.
“Uh, thanks, I guess,” I said, wondering why, of all people, Stewy hadn’t made a big deal about my obvious absence.
“You missed the sophomore volleyball tournament,” Stewy said before at the corner. “You missed a good opportunity to demonstrate your athletic skills, again.”
“Oh, shut up, Stewy!”
“See, no one knows,” Tim said. “Now, go to your honors whatever class and get your missed assignments.”
“Okay.”
“Geoff? See you at the Fairy Table,” Monica said.
“Yeah, I’ll be there.”
They walked together toward the stairs. They’d be up on the third floor for the rest of the morning. I never ventured to such lofty heights. All my classes were a lot closer to the ground, smart kids didn’t have to climb stairs. Heck, most of us were too uncoordinated to carry books, walk up stairs, talk to whoever, and watch out for some muscle for brains bent on destruction of another honors student.
I turned and headed in Stewy’s direction. Pre-calc was the order of business for second period. Only I was too tired. I wanted sleep, lots of sleep. I damned near forgot to turn the corner and when I did, I saw him.
It was Sam from psycholand, my friend. The boy who liked me. The boy who seemed worse off than me. He was staring at me. He must have been waiting, but he didn’t go to North Park High. He didn’t belong here. He was supposed to be at the psycho hospital, I thought. He smiled.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. I walked over to him and his eyes went to the floor. “Why aren’t you at the hospital? What’s going on?”
“I ran away,” he whispered. He put his hands into his pockets. He was wearing khaki slacks, a bright red, orange, and yellow madras shirt, and penny loafers. He needed a shave, but smelled like he’d recently taken a bath. His blue eyes were bright, lively, which was so unlike him.
“Where are you staying? What’s going on?”
“I had to see you,” he said. “You left without saying goodbye. I miss you.”
I thought of Tim and what he’d say, but Sam intrigued me. He was so outside my normal, crazy life, I wanted to be with him.
“Can I see you tonight? I know where you live.”
“What?”
“I want to see you.”
“Why?”
“I like you.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, we’ll talk to night. Okay?”
“Yeah, you can come over, I guess.”
Then he walked out the door. He was skinny, but had a cute ass, what I could see of it through his loose slacks. But, what was he doing out of the hospital? I wondered if I should call Doctor Randall. If I was a good little boy, a tattletale, I’d do that. I decided to wait.
Kiel’s spot at the Fairy Table, our lunch table in the cafeteria, was occupied by a familiar looking boy who I wasn’t certain I knew. It was a face I’d seen before, maybe back in third or fourth grade, but I wasn’t sure. I sat down across from him. He smiled at me then turned to continue his conversation with Mark, Monica’s boyfriend.
“Hi, Geoff,” Mark said, looking up from a peanut butter and strawberry rhubarb jam sandwich. For as long as I’d known him that’s what he had for lunch. Mark was a tight end on the North Park football team.
“Hi,” I said, trying to remember who the other kid was. He was obviously older than the kid I might have known, but there were some points of recognition that were causing my mind to run through pictures of classmates at Licton Springs Elementary and Bruce Bigedic Middle School. His light blond hair was shorter, football short. He had more muscles, a thicker neck. He’d been working out. A splash of acne across his nose and cheeks was unnerving, but there was still something about him that made keep staring.
“I’m Dick Connor,” he said. There was something about his dull brown eyes that suddenly made me fear him. “I beat the shit out of you in fourth grade because you were such a smart ass about everything. That got me expelled from Licton Springs. I ended up at Thornton Meadows, then Samuel Gompers. I just transferred in from Crestline because of something someone said I’d done. I didn’t do it, but my parents thought it best I come here since it’s supposed to be my high school anyway. What the hell you sitting here for?”
“I always sit here,” I said, looking at Mark for some degree of help. He looked out the window at the bronze fairy in the atrium. That’s why the table is known as the Fairy Table. It takes a lot of guts to sit there. Who wants to be known as a fairy, unless you already are.
“Yeah, well, maybe you need to find a new table,” Dick said. “Did you hear me?”
“Yeah, sure,” I said. I stood up and picked up my tray. I didn’t know where to go. Tim was still in line. Monica hadn’t come in, yet. I didn’t know what to do.
“Are you still here?” Dick asked. He was flexing his hand into a fist. I remember the bloody nose, the black eye caused by that fist. I remember my aching gut when that fist slammed into my stomach.
“I’m going.”
“Then go!”
“I’m going.”
“Well, I think you need a little encouragement.”
He was up on his feet before I knew what was happening. A fist slammed into my face. I was on the floor, the tray of food on top of me.
“Richard Connor, I saw that,” Vice Principal Washington said. “Come with me.”
“He hit me first,” Dick said.
“Like hell he did. Are you coming nice or do I have to subdue you.” Vice Principal Washington had been in the Marines. He’d been trained to subdue. He was always pleasant. Asking if you wanted to be nice, then giving the subtle threat of being subdued. He was over six feet tall and built like the proverbial brick shithouse.
“Do you think you scare me, ni …?” Dick started to say before a black hand had him by the neck and was raising him off the floor. Vice Principal Washington was walking toward the office with a completely subdued Dick Connor before anyone else knew what was happening.
“Geoff Johnson, get yourself cleaned up and come to the office,” Vice Principal Washington said from the hall. The cafeteria was quiet enough for me to hear him. Then pandemonium broke out.
“Are you all right?” Mark asked, looking down at me from his seat at the table. He hadn’t lifted a finger to help. He wanted to be my friend. He was losing points.
“A lot you care,” I said, picking food off my shirt and slacks. My face hurt. I wanted to cry. I wanted to go find Sam. I wanted to be anywhere except in the same school as Dick Connor.
“Hey, he beat me up, too. And, didn’t Tim tell you about sitting at this table during lunch?”
“No.”
“Well, you brought it on yourself, that’s all I can say.”
I sat outside Vice Principal Washington’s office. A police car had arrived when I was in the restroom trying to clean chocolate pudding from my shirt. I needed to soak it in cold water, but all I could do was daub it with paper towels. Dick was brought out in handcuffs. One of the policemen looked at me and shook his head.
“You could’ve hit something better than a psycho,” he said. He seemed familiar, but I couldn’t be sure. I’d never had any run-ins with North Park police, but maybe they’d received something from Seattle to be on their guard against psycho Geoff Johnson.
“In here, Geoff,” Vice Principal Washington said. He closed the door behind me. “Have seat.”
The paddle was in the corner. It looked like an oar for a rowboat, with holes drilled in the face to reduce wind resistance. Maybe I was going to get a good talking to before getting a couple swats. Swats from Vice Principal Washington were famous at North Park. My older brother, Karl, received a total of six, but he’s always been a hard headed, stubborn bastard.
“I’m worried about you, Geoff. You let people walk all over you. I realize Mr. Connor is exceptional, but you could have done something to prevent the attack. Have you ever considered taking a self-defense class?”
“I’m not a fighter.”
“I’m not asking you to fight. I want you to learn how to defend yourself. I know you’re seeing Dr. Timothy Randall for your problems, so I’m going to talk to him about getting you into something like jujitsu, karate, or something like that. I think the mental aspects of the Eastern martial arts will help you, too. Geoff, you’re a good kid. I think we need to help you. Okay?”
“Sure, I guess.”
“Good, now I think it’s best you went home. Maybe we’ll have a better day tomorrow.”
He offered his hand and I shook it, trying to remember not to give him the dead fish my father always complained about.