I'M OVERWHELMED ===============
Well the response to Part 10 was incredible, seems a lot of you really identified with what I thought was a relatively clumsy scene in the cemetery - I just couldn't get the words I wanted to use, maybe that's why it worked? Curtis's dialog maybe seemed more genuine? Who can say? Anyway, I decided to push on with Chapter 11, despite some bastard emailing me with a virus that rampaged across my hard drive. See the sacrifices I make for you?? Thanks for all your support and all your comments and suggestions and praise and so on - it's all appreciated and I do try to answer every single email (Over 1,000 now, and counting!). This chapter is dedicated to the one person who sent me criticism: "some people like to get straight to the banging"; to which I say - it took you TEN chapters to realize this was not that sort of story???? My solution? Read something else, don't bother me with your unnecessary whining! This chapter is shorter than intended, but I have to rush out, so the next one will pick it up when it gets posted. Sorry!
DISCLAIMER ==========
This is a work of fiction; any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental. The author asserts all legal and moral rights (copyright (c) 2000 - ardveche@hotmail.com) to this work and you may not copy it or transmit it in any way except in its entirety and with this disclaimer. This story features descriptions of sex between consenting (all over the legal age, at least in my jurisdiction they are) males:
- if such material is prohibited in your jurisdiction, please DO NOT READ ON, - if you're under the legal age to read such material, please DO NOT READ ON, - if you don't like, or are offended by such material, please DO NOT READ ON.
Now, if everyone who is still here is meant to be here, let's get on with it. All comments are welcome and gratefully received (email them to ardveche@hotmail.com or look me up on MSN Messenger).
NEW TO THIS STATE =================
Chapter 11 - Sunday Best
Curtis started the car and we pulled away from the cemetery and headed for home, we were both silent. When we got back to the house, Lois and my mom were chatting in the parlor so we hung out in the kitchen for a bit, talking about nothing much over a cup of coffee. I didn't know what to say to him, after the affecting moments we had just spent in the cemetery there seemed to be nothing I could say. Finally he stood up and drained his coffee.
"Gonna grab more matches from upstairs, then I think I'll head out back for some air and a smoke. Coming with?"
"Air and a smoke? Seems like a waste of time."
"Funny."
"Yeah, I'll come. Just let me finish this." I raised my cup.
"Sure, back in a minute." He left me alone in the kitchen with half a cup of coffee and my thoughts. Poetic, huh? I heard him trotting up the stairs and the distant sound of drawers being opened and closed. Eventually he returned to the kitchen, and shook the matches triumphantly as he entered the room, a goofy grin on his face.
"Well done."
"Thanks." His smile broadened, taking my sarcastic remark at face value.
"Did I ever tell you you're my hero?" I commented dryly.
"The wind beneath your wings, huh?"
"You're not clever."
"So you keep telling me." He reached out and messed up my hair as he walked towards the door.
"Scum!" I called at his back and was rewarded by a raised middle finger over his shoulder as the door swung to. "Asshole!" I called, but by that stage, there was no way he could have heard me. So I got to my feet and quit the warmth of the kitchen to follow him outside. At first I couldn't see him and then I saw a match flare by one of the fruit trees and wandered over to him.
"Hi." He took a deep draw on his cigarette, the light reflecting in his eyes was about the only part of his face I could see in the darkness.
"Hi, yourself." I sat on the low wall surrounding what Lois sometimes referred to as her 'orchard'. I became aware of an odd smell, and took a few tentative sniffs to try to identify it. "What's that smell?"
"Don't play dumb." His voice was low, and it was hard to place his tone, I thought maybe he was angry at me for something, but I couldn't be sure.
"Pot?"
"Bingo."
"Christ, my mom'll go crazy. And Lois!"
"Lois doesn't care. And your mom'll never know."
"What do you mean 'Lois doesn't care'?" I was puzzled by his certainty. He had known Lois for a few days only, who was he to tell me what my grandmother did and did not approve of. I was about to become righteously indignant when it struck me that I had known Lois for about as long and that he had spent more time with her recently than I had. So maybe he did know what she thought on the matter.
"We talked about it this afternoon." He said simply, confirming my thoughts.
"Oh."
"But, you know, if you really don't want me to, I won't smoke it." He took the joint from between his lips and stood looking at me in silence. Suddenly, I felt as though I was being somehow unreasonable, like there was something wrong in asking him to stop doing something illegal right there in front of me.
"It's your life."
"Don't be like that!"
"Like what?"
"All petulant at me. Just tell me; yes or no?"
"I don't know. I guess you probably shouldn't, but I don't know."
"Call that an answer?" He chuckled and dropped the butt, crushing it with the heel of his boot. "There. Happy?"
"Curtis..."
"Drop it. I think I need an early night." He made as thought to head back to the house and I grabbed his arm to stop him.
"Are we having an argument?" I was confused by his behavior.
"I don't know, are we?" And answers like that from him were not helping me. In fact, in addition to being confused, I was fast becoming angry. He could be so difficult. He shook my hand off his arm.
"It seems like it."
"Not to me." His tone was hard to gauge, and it was too dark to really see his face.
"Well it does to me, and I don't understand why."
"I said to drop it, Drew. You don't want me to smoke, I won't smoke. Simple."
"Then why do you sound so pissed about it, if it's that simple?" I demanded, perhaps more angrily than was really necessary.
"Jeez, you're hard to please." I wasn't sure, but I got the feeling that he was laughing at me. There was a short silence in which he stared intently at my face, which was set into a scowl and then he did actually laugh aloud.
"What?" He was making me more and more angry.
"You're cute when you're angry."
"Fuck you." I turned and stalked back towards the house. He didn't follow, and as I opened the screen door to go inside I could see again the glow of a cigarette under the trees. 'Fine', I thought. If he wanted to be a complete jerk there was nothing I could do about it, and it wasn't even worth my effort to try. I made myself a cup of coffee and headed upstairs to my room to listen to angry music. I don't know about you, but when I'm in a bad mood, I like to nurse it and make it last as long as possible. I was feeling pretty aggrieved, hard done by, and I wanted to wallow for a while in my own sense of outrage.
I needed to think about what was happening in my life. So much had changed in the course of the last week, I needed just to stop and sit down for a moment and try to get things straight in my mind. If that was possible. Now that I had time to consider the conversation in the garden I had no idea why I was even angry with him. Or if it was him I was angry with, or if it was me. I flopped back on my bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to order my thoughts. Did I mind him smoking? I don't know. I certainly didn't like the taste of smoke on him, but was it for me to try to make him stop? Was this even an issue worth getting angry over? Probably not. I turned the stereo off and sat up, feeling a little foolish I went back down the stairs and looked out the kitchen window.
Outside, it was pitch dark as I made my way to where I had last seen the tiny orange glow, tripping and stumbling more than once. A voice, tinged with amusement, came out of the darkness.
"Guerrilla warfare is not your calling, Drew."
"I guess not."
"Why'd you come back out?"
"Um. I guess, to apologize to you." I mumbled.
"For what? Having your own opinions? That's hardly a crime."
"Don't make this harder than it already is, okay? I'm sorry, I over-reacted and I don't even know why I was angry. So, well, I'm sorry, like I said."
"Apology accepted." Well, that had been easier than anticipated. I moved nearer to him, and sat to the left of him on the low wall. His arm slipped round my waist.
"Let's never argue, Curtis."
"Ha! Like that's gonna happen."
"Yeah, okay. But let's not argue about dumb stuff, okay?"
"Sure." He pulled me a little closer and I rested my head on his shoulder. "You know, I meant it, if you really want me to I'll flush the whole stash."
"No. You don't have to do that. I don't mind, I was just confused."
"About what?"
"Why now? I mean, weren't we having a good time?"
"You've lost me, man." He sounded genuinely puzzled.
"Why did you need to smoke? What were you trying to get away from?"
"I didn't NEED to, I wanted to. And I'm not trying to escape from anything, it relaxes me, that's all. Feels good. I was only going to smoke one joint anyway, not get totally spaced or anything, guess maybe this evening rattled me a bit more than I thought."
"Oh." I could maybe have been more communicative.
"And it makes me pretty horny, too." He squeezed me to him and laughed a short, low chuckle which I felt more than heard.
"Like that's necessary!"
"Fair point. At least when you're around."
"Flatterer."
"Hardly. You turn me on in a big way, Quinn."
"Sure. I think maybe that stuff's gone to your head, buddy."
"You shouldn't put yourself down, you know? You're a helluva guy, trust me, I have great taste in men." That remark, while very flattering, reminded me of the question I had backed down from the night before, I wanted to know more about Curtis's sexual history, but could think of no way to ask. And, at the same time, I was terrified of what that history might be, and that I might prove unequal to his expectations. I must have been pondering that for some time, as he squeezed me to him again and asked: "what are you thinking about?"
"You."
"Naturally." He took another long draw.
"Big head."
"I was thinking about last night."
"What about it?"
"How good it was." I could feel that he was about to speak, and knowing him it would probably have been some sort of lame joke, so I pressed on before he could interrupt me. "I guess you must've, you know, been with quite a few guys, huh?"
"Oh, is that what's bothering you?"
"Well, not bothering me, as such, I just wondered, 'cause you know, you're basically my first." A thought of Josh flickered through my mind, but I decided that he didn't really count, at least not by the narrow definition I was using. In every meaningful way, Curtis was my first. The first person I had felt such warmth for, the first person I had wanted to give pleasure to, you know?
"Basically, huh?" Damn, he'd noticed that word. He chuckled. "Tell all."
"Don't change the subject."
"Seems to me, its you changing the subject, not me. You want to know my history, surely I have a right to know yours too. Yes?"
I hesitated a moment before answering, and then seeing the truth of his statement, said, "Yes. I guess so."
"Okay, so you want me to go first?"
"Please."
"You're not going to like it, man. It's a long and sordid story."
"It is?" My stomach lurched at the thought of what I might be about to hear.
"Yeah. Well, I guess it starts when I was nine, and I was selling my ass on street corners for twenty bucks a time."
"What?" I was incredulous.
"Dummy." He punched my shoulder. "I'm kidding. You're my second, okay? And the first to pay me for it."
"Jeez. You sounded so serious."
"And you were so ready to believe it. What's up with that?" He didn't sound annoyed, but I could see where he might be, I decided that avoiding the question was probably the safest course of action.
"Who was he?"
"You sure you want to do this?" He took a final drag and crushed out the butt, letting the smoke out slowly while he waited for me to answer. I nodded, not trusting my voice, every horrible worst case scenario was rattling through my brain, I was thinking the utterly unthinkable; that it had been his dad. And then a thought, somehow more terrible, chased that out and I thought maybe it was Tyler. But, no, it couldn't be. Could it? He must have seen something on my face because he smiled at me and squeezed my hand. "Relax, dude, it's nothing to worry about."
"No?"
"No. It wasn't Tyler." He grinned. Shit. Was I that obvious?
"So, are you going to tell me who?" I realized as I said it, that maybe I should have denied thinking it was Tyler, but it was too late now, so I had to hope he'd let it go and continue with the story.
"Sure. Last summer, I was making a few extra bucks parking cars at the Country Club and there was this one guy who was home from college for the summer. His name was Boyd and we got to know each other. Simple as that. He was lonely, I was too and one thing just led to another. We kept in touch for a while, but I haven't heard from him in months."
"Oh. Is that who the letters are from?"
"Boyd?" He laughed. "He may have been a college boy but he could hardly write his own name, no, love letters weren't his style. Those are my mom and dad's."
"Oh. Why do you have them?"
"To remind me of how they used to be. Before the cancer, I mean."
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked."
"S'okay, change the subject, huh?"
"Sorry. Um, so how long were you and Boyd an item?" I was experiencing pangs of jealousy at the thought of my boyfriend having a relationship with another guy.
"An item? Hardly, Drew. It was just sex, we never dated, we never talked, we just screwed. Which was fun, but not what I'd call fulfilling."
"Really?"
"Really. I didn't have a hundredth of what I have with you with him. I felt nothing for him." He kissed me on the lips.
"Okay. Um, what did he look like?"
"Typical jock, six two, gorgeous, blond and blue eyed. The all American boy next door. But not too bright." He snorted.
"Not your type at all, huh?" I asked.
"No. More your type, I think." Ouch, that hurt. "My type is about five ten with brown hair and the deepest, most soulful, most beautiful eyes I've ever seen."
"Now I know you're high!" I laughed at him, he was so funny when he tried to be romantic, he just couldn't pull it off, but I was so glad we were talking.
"Not even close, I put the first one out, and the second was just a cigarette." He paused. "I love you too much to risk pissing you off." This was too much, I made a decision.
"And I love you too much to tell you what to do."
"So sweet." He kissed me again.
"Really. I mean it. And maybe I could try a little too?" I was hesitant, unsure of what I was about to do, but I wanted to show him that I wanted for him to be himself.
"You?"
"Me." I said with finality, my mind made up. "You sold me on it when it said it made you horny." He laughed at me.
"Okay. You're the boss, Mr. Quinn. But while I roll, you'd better talk, I want to hear all about your 'basically' first time." And he fit actions to words, fishing the tin from the pocket of his coat.
"Um. Nothing much to tell, really. The night before we left, this friend of mine from school came round and said that he had always wanted to be with me."
"Yeah, you have that effect." He muttered, concentrating on his deft fingers.
"Yeah, right! So we, um, we went outside and he, um, blew me."
"Cool." I thought he said.
"What?"
"Hmm? Nothing."
"Um, yeah, well that's it really. He went home, we left and came here and I haven't spoken to him since." Wow. That sounded pretty callous even to me.
"I hope you don't do that when you get tired of me." He looked up at me.
"I'll never get tired of you."
"Says you." He handed me the completed joint.
"It's true. Um, maybe you should light this, I've only smoked a couple of times before." I handed it back to him.
"Oh, Mr. Morality! The truth comes out now."
"I didn't inhale!"
"That's original." He joked, flicking his Zippo open.
"It's true. I choked every time."
"You know what a shotgun is?"
"I'm guessing you're not talking about firearms, right?"
"Spot on." He took a deep draw on the joint, and the end glowed fiercely as he got it started. He exhaled. "If you're not used to smoking, the smoke can be too rough for your lungs. With a shotgun, I inhale first and then exhale into your mouth. Understand?"
"I think so."
"Two things happen. First, the smoke gets filtered by my lungs before it gets to you, and second, we get to make out." He grinned.
"It's starting to sound better." I smiled back at him. "Let's do it." He took another short drag and leant in to place his lips against mine. I opened my mouth to him and breathed in slowly, savoring the sensations of the kiss, his free hand came to rest on the back of my neck. I felt smoke drifting into my mouth and allowed myself to inhale cautiously. Amazingly, I didn't cough or choke and I actually began to feel a slight, pleasurable, tingle (matched, of course, by the intense, pleasurable tingle of kissing him). He sat back, breaking the kiss, with a huge grin on his face.
"You tasted good." He said, finally.
"Thanks. That was pretty cool."
"How do you feel."
"Warm."
"More?"
"Sure." Now that we had embarked on this, I was starting to feel really relaxed and had quelled all my fears. Well, mostly. We repeated the process of long, slow, lingering kisses a few more times until the joint was almost done, and then he handed it to me again. I was feeling pleasantly buzzed, like I was mildly drunk but still very much in control.
"Try on your own now." He said to me.
"Aw! Spoilsport, I liked it the way we were doing it." He grinned at me and I raised the last of it to my lips, taking a tentative suck I found that I was able to handle the smoke without coughing, though I did feel the tickle of a cough as I inhaled more deeply. I let the smoke out slowly and crushed the butt.
"So?" He looked amused.
"What?"
"You okay?"
"I'm fine. I feel a little light-headed but in a good way. We should do this again. But not too often."
"Damn right. If you're going to waste that much!" He indicated the ruined remains of the joint I had crushed out. "Want some gum?"
"Why?"
"Minty fresh breath, Drew."
"Good point, okay." We sat in silence under the trees, with our arms around one another and just enjoyed the silence and the soft chewing sounds and slight rustles as we shifted position from time to time. It was wonderful. Finally, he sighed and with a soft grunt pushed himself to his feet. He held out his hands, and I took both of them and he helped me to my feet. The earlier argument was totally forgotten and I felt so happy to be with him. I leaned in and slid both my arms round him, pressing my lips against his cheek. He made a low, happy sound and held me close.
TO BE CONTINUED... ==================