*** LEGAL STUFF This material includes graphic accounts of sexual activity between teenage males. It is intended only for individuals over 18 years of age who are not offended by nor legally prohibited from reading such material. This and all other chapters of the Tyler's Prom series are copyrighted by the author and may be reproduced and distributed without alteration provided that such distributions are made only to members of the intended audience and no profit is made by such distribution.
*** PERSONAL STUFF Sorry to have taken so long with this chapter. Provided you still want me to continue I will try to do better in the future. I owe a lot of thanks for those who have helped me on this story, including Ryan for his suggestions, TJ, for not only proofreading the story (any errors are mine) but for putting up with the ramblings of a lunatic the last couple of months, and, of course, to Scott. An overdue thank you also to Marc for proofing the last chapter. And now, on with the show.
"28 all," Scott said. "Next basket wins."
We had been playing for nearly three hours and this was the closest I had come to taking a game from him, but I had at least succeeded in making his chest heave, expanding his incredible pecs, and causing the sweat to pour off his body. We could have been playing in the air-conditioned youth center where it was nice and cool instead of outside under the scorching August sun, but that would have meant sharing the court with at least a half dozen other guys and we preferred having each other to ourselves. Chances are at the center we would have ended up playing on the same team and what was the point of playing ball with your boyfriend if you couldn't make a little body contact?
Even though I was taller, Scott outweighed me by 25 pounds and he used his superior muscle to back me in close to the goal and then as I prepared to defend against his usual power move to the basket he surprised me by pivoting away from me and arching a fadeaway just over my outstretched left hand and through the net. ---Oh well, I guess there are worse things than losing a game of one-on-one to the best player in the conference.---
We leaned against each other for a while trying to catch our breath. Even as exhausted as I was I still got a thrill from the feel of his bare skin against mine. "You're getting better," he said.
"I don't know," I panted, "I think I'm just wearing you down. You want to play another?"
"No, I've had enough for a while," he said.
"Want to get something to eat?" I asked.
As he shook his head slowly he got a strangely bashful look in his big brown eyes.
"I smiled broadly at the now-familiar expression. "You want to just go back to the house for a while?"
He smiled back and nodded, still not speaking. Scott might have been reluctant to pursue our relationship initially, but now that he was committed to it his sexual appetite was almost insatiable. It was not quite noon and this would be our third time today, fourth if you counted one a.m. as part of today. At this rate we might set a personal record.
He drove the short distance to his house quickly and I thought I noticed his hand trembling as he unlocked the door. I was overwhelmed at the thought that I could inspire such excitement in anyone, let alone Scott.
"Do you want a Coke or something?" he asked as we walked inside.
"Later," I said.
He took me by the hand and led me downstairs, but instead of taking me to his bedroom he led me to the bathroom. He started a nice warm shower and we quickly got undressed and climbed in. He used the soap and his bare hands to lather my entire body, saving all the best parts for last. As he began stroking my rigid cock with his soapy hands, my knees began to buckle and I leaned against him for support. This only served to encourage him and he increased the speed and intensity of his strokes. I was ready to come in seconds but I didn't want it to be over so soon. I slid down Scott's body and onto my knees in front of him. He handed me the bar of soap and I quickly washed his gorgeous dick, taking time to look at it closely - for the hundredth time - before taking it into my mouth. I was impressed by how similar it was to my own, not that I had never actually seen mine at this angle, of course. We were both uncircumcised, a little over seven inches long, and without a lot of pubic hair. Scott insisted that my dick was a little longer than his, but his was definitely thicker. I loved the way it tickled the roof of my mouth as he slid it back and forth. I still had the bar of soap in my hands as I sucked him, so I began using it on his legs, working my way up his thighs and finally onto his ass. I massaged both tight buttocks firmly for a while then worked the soap between them, rubbing it back and forth across his rosebud. The soap slipped from my hand as he began bucking wildly, thrusting his cock deep into my mouth. As his body began to stiffen and his thrusts became more irregular I used my fingers to continue what I had started with the soap. As I massaged the entrance which had been so tight moments before it began to loosen up and I was surprised when my index finger found its way in, seemingly all by itself. At that moment Scott let out a resounding cry of passion and exploded into my mouth, unloading shot after shot of hot cum into my throat. When I was certain that my man was completely satisfied, I stood up and embraced him tightly, enjoying the feel of his softening member against my own, which was still rock hard.
He held me tightly for a minute, then began to turn in my embrace. I want to feel you inside my body, Ty, " he said, almost in a whisper.
"Are you sure?" I asked. So far we had taken care of each other orally and had discovered any number of other ways of giving and getting pleasure, but we had not "gone all the way"," as we referred to it. We were past any moral scruples, or at least as far past them as we were going to get given our upbringing, but there was still a fear that once we crossed this threshold, there would be no going back. And course, in my case at least, there was a certain amount of fear of physical pain. I knew that Scott would never hurt me intentionally, but as much as I loved his dick, that thing was huge. At least it seemed that way when I considered having it rammed up inside of me.
"I'm sure I want you, Ty. If you're not ready to have me inside you, I can wait, but right now I need you to make love to me. Please." I felt guilty for not being eager to give Scott what he was giving me, but I honestly couldn't have denied him any request, especially one made with such love. He was still well-lubricated from the soap and my cock was wet from both the shower that was still pouring down over us and the precum that had been leaking out for the last several minutes. Still it took a little maneuvering to get ourselves into the right position, and for Scotty to relax enough for me to enter him. I went as slowly as I could bear, wanting desperately not to hurt him, but quickly being overcome by my own renewed lust. I'm not sure that anything will ever match the sheer ecstasy of one of Scott's slow, sensual blowjobs when he really has the time to do it the way he likes, but the intensity of being enveloped by Scott's body, held and gripped in the sweet, firm embrace of his ass, was incredible, especially this first time. Ever since that day the smell of Scott's hair combined with a little hint of Ivory soap can get me fully erect in seconds. It took no more than a few thrusts before I could feel my balls beginning to churn, but the strength was quickly leaving my legs. For a minute I thought I was not going to be able to finish but just then Scott seemed to relax his body a little more and began to thrust himself backward into me, taking even more of my throbbing dick into him. Immediately I began to erupt, lunging into him violently, no longer able to think about sparing him any pain, not able to think about anything at all, barely able even to maintain consciousness in the midst of the most overpowering orgasm of my young life.
Scott groaned a little, but continued to meet my thrusts until finally the fire inside me subsided enough that I was able to regain control of myself and withdraw from him.
As soon as I regained the power of speech I began apologizing. "Don't'," Scott insisted. "Don't ever apologize for that. That was the most incredible experience of my life."
"But I was afraid I hurt you," I said, a little embarrassed now. Obviously I had overestimated my own size and strength.
"You did, a little," he said, "I'll probably be sore later, too, but it was worth it. You were a part of me, Tyler. You were in my body the way you've always been in my heart. I wouldn't have thought that it was possible to love you any more than I already did, but I do now. Thank you."
The slight embarrassment I had felt a moment before was now increased to astronomical levels. The love of my life had just given me the greatest gift he had to offer and now he was thanking me. And worst of all, I knew I still couldn't bring myself to give it back to him. The incredible loss of control I had felt had left me with a keen awareness of just how vulnerable Scott had made himself to me. Not just physically, but emotionally, as well. I wasn't sure why, but I was still unable to give myself so completely to Scott. I knew that it had nothing to do with a lack of love, but I also knew that whatever it was it seemed completely beyond my control. I found myself on the verge of tears as I tried to find a way to explain this to him, but he didn't seem to need any such explanation. He simply turned off the water and got out of the shower. As I got out behind him he wrapped a towel around me and began to dry me off, slowly at first but then more vigorously. In moments we were wrestling around naked on the bathroom floor. All feelings of insecurity were quickly discarded as I was caught up in Scott's playful enthusiasm.
After lunch we spent the rest of the afternoon lying together on Scott's bed. The TV was on but we weren't really watching it. Scott was propped up on several pillows and I laid at an angle to him with my head resting on his chest and shoulder. Scott held me loosely with his right hand while my left rested on his thigh. It occurred to me that if I had to spend eternity in one moment it would be this one. Sex with Scott was incredible, the joy of sharing our bodies, discovering new ways to satisfy each other, the indescribable thrill of bringing the person you love to orgasm, and of course the ecstasy of my own sexual fulfillment. But these were my favorite times, being close to the love of my life afterward. When we were alone and quiet like this I could read his thoughts, share his emotions, almost feel the blood coursing through his veins. You may not believe it, but I knew the exact moment when he would speak and essentially what he would say.
"These past few weeks have been the best time of my life."
"Me, too," I agreed, "I didn't know a person could be so happy."
"I didn't know if I'd ever be happy again," Scott said. "Now I can't seem to wipe the smile off my face. Even when you're not here I feel good because I'm always either looking forward to the next time I get to see you or I'm remembering what we did the last time we were together."
"Speaking of which," I sighed, "what happens next week?" We had spent at least part of almost every day together the last several weeks and nearly half the nights, but that was all going to come to an end. My birthday was only six days away, Labor Day was the next day, and school started the day after that. Since we went to different schools and my weekends were tied up at work, our time together was going to be cut back severely.
"It's going to be tough to take, but it's not like we won't see each other at all," he said.
"Maybe not, but I've gotten addicted to being with you and I'm not sure a fix once a week or so is going to be enough."
"We'll see each other more than that," he promised. "We can go out at least once or twice a week and I'll come see you at the radio station whenever Mom isn't keeping me too busy at the shop. And I'll call every day. Besides, in some ways it's better that we won't be together at school."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, we've been able to be by ourselves most of the time this summer, but if I had to see you every day at school in front of a bunch of people I'm not sure I could keep my hands off you. The first time I gave you a kiss or put my hand on your butt without thinking we'd be busted." Scott and I had never really talked about the need to keep our relationship secret. In our environment it was just something that was understood.
"You might be right about that part of it. I can just picture myself walking up to you in the hallway and saying `I love you' before I remembered where we were." I laughed at the mental image of Jackie's face if she overheard something like that. "And I'm not so possessive that I've got to have you with me every second. I just need to know that I'm still going to be in your heart and on your mind - that you won't forget me when I'm not around all the time."
"Ty, I thought you understood. All those things I said that night when we decided to be together, they weren't just for the summer or for a year or two, they're forever. If I didn't see you for fifty years, there wouldn't be one day when I didn't think about you and how much I love you."
No doubt about it, when this boy aimed for my heart he hit the bulls' eye every time. I didn't even trust myself to speak for a minute or two after that. Between Ricky and Scott I'd already cried more in the last three months than I had in the past six years and I didn't want to start again now so I just rolled over and hugged him, burying my face in his chest. When I trusted my eyes again I raised up on one elbow and looked at his beautiful face. I wondered for the thousandth time what in the world he saw in me. It's not that I was ugly or anything, but I had an altogether average-looking face that was always adorned with a few pimples and I was far too skinny. Scott, on the other hand, had jaw-dropping good looks. His dark brown eyes seemed to be able to look right through a person. His hair was just a little lighter shade of brown and always perfect. And that body. Without being overly large, every muscle was perfectly defined, as though some Greek sculptor had somehow managed to create his masterpiece from flesh and blood instead of marble. I knew at least a dozen girls with steady boyfriends who would have dropped their guys in a second for one date with him and yet here he was telling me how much he loved me. The word lucky' is inadequate to describe the way I felt. I felt lucky to have had Scott as my best friend for the last ten years. To have him as my boyfriend and to hear him say I love you,' I felt blessed. Whatever anyone else might think of our love, I felt in my heart it was a gift from God.
"Let's talk about something better," Scott said. "We've still got a week left. What are we going to do with it?"
"You're still going to Fayetteville with us Thursday, aren't you?" I asked. Mountain Pine and Sycamore were so small that the only choices for shopping were Wal-Mart and a few little shops like the one Scott's mom owned, so the annual week-before-school-starts trip to Fayetteville had become a family tradition.
"Wouldn't miss it. I get to have you in the back seat for an hour each way," Scott said.
"Yeah, but Mom and Kevin will be in the front seat so we have to behave like good little straight boys," I reminded him.
"I'll keep my seat belt buckled and my hands to myself but I can't promise you all my thoughts will be pure," he laughed.
"I hope not," I said, "and I hope we can act out some of your fantasies as soon as we get back. Oh, and I almost forgot that I promised to help Mom get her classroom ready tomorrow. I hope you don't mind."
"No, I think Mom's going to want me to help her in the shop most of the day anyway. But if you can spend the night tomorrow night we could spend all day at the lake Wednesday. I really want to take the boat out one last time before summer's over."
"Sounds great," I said, "what do you want to do Friday?"
"I don't care. What do you want to do?" he asked.
"You'll think it's silly," I said.
"No, I won't, I promise."
"I want to go to the Labor Day rodeo."
"Really? I mean, it's not silly, but it's different." It wasn't like we lived out in the wild west or anything, but a lot of the kids in our area were wannabe cowboy-types - `goat-ropers' we called them - but Scott and I had never been part of that crowd.
"When I was a kid, before Mom and Dad got divorced," ---I'm nearly a grown man now, I really need to stop keeping track of time that way--- "we used to go to rodeos about every other weekend. I'd ride Po around the arena before the show. Dad had even started teaching me how to rope." Po was a big Bay gelding Dad had bought when I was three years old. His real name was Arapaho but `Po' was the best I could do at three and the shorter version had stuck. Despite his size Po was extremely gentle and seemed to be able to sense a young or inexperienced rider and take extra care. Since Dad preferred a more spirited animal Po had eventually become my horse. Scott had even ridden him a couple of times himself.
"Whatever happened to your horse?" Scott asked.
"After the divorce" ---There I go again--- "Dad sold him to some dude ranch."
"River Valley?"
"Must have been. It's the only one around here. They need calm gentle horses that the tourists can ride."
"That's too bad," Scott said. "Okay, so we'll go to the rodeo Friday night."
"Great," I said, surprised that he had agreed so easily. "This is my weekend to stay at Dad's house so I guess I'll be there from the time I get off work Saturday until time for church Sunday night." Since I had to work Sunday mornings Mom expected me to be at Sunday evening services every week. In fact, though, I probably would have gone even if she hadn't made it mandatory. "Mom's planning on having a bunch of relatives over afterwards for a little birthday party. She offered to let me have a party with my friends instead but since this is probably my last birthday at home I knew she really wanted it to be family. You're welcome of course. Mom considers you her third son."
"That's cool. What do you want for your birthday?" he asked.
"Nothing," I said. "We've never gotten each other birthday presents before and if I know you, you'd get something expensive or sentimental and it would be like showing up with a big sign saying, `Hey Everybody, I'm in love with Tyler!' Besides, all I really want is to be able to spend the day with you, but that's not possible, so there's really nothing else I need."
"Okay, but what about Monday? Is your mom planning a Labor Day picnic or anything?"
"No. That's the day before school and if I know her she'll be frantically trying to pull things together." After - well, you know - Mom finished her last two years of college in just over a year and now she taught third grade at Mountain Pine Elementary. I was very proud of her.
"Good," Scott said, "then we can spend the whole day together Monday. Don't worry, Ty, we'll have enough fun in the next week to get us through all the time we'll have to be apart until Christmas break."
We did have a lot of fun but by Friday it seemed like the time was passing much too quickly. Scott and I went to the rodeo as planned and he actually seemed to have a good time. He had only been to a rodeo once before in his life and I'm sure he couldn't have cared less but he listened patiently while I explained everything from what the hazer was for in steer wrestling to why one bull rider scored more points than another. That night was the first time all week that one of us didn't sleep over at the other's house and I missed the feel of his body next to mine even more than the sex. I tossed and turned and by the time my alarm clock went off at five a.m. I had gotten a total of about two hours sleep, mostly in brief intervals. I hit the snooze button and rolled over but it seemed like only ten seconds later that it started blaring again. The big red numbers said 5:09, though, so I got up and stumbled toward the shower.
"I love my job. I love my job. I love my job," I kept reminding myself as I started the water and got undressed. What kid my age wouldn't want to be a disc jockey - correction `radio personality'? I was a local celebrity, I got to play whatever I wanted as long as I stayed within the light rock/adult contemporary format, and I got paid fifty cents an hour above the minimum wage. It was worth the sacrifice.
"I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job," I said between clinched teeth as the steaming hot water shocked my body to life. What teenage boy in his right mind would willingly commit himself to getting up before the crack of dawn every weekend morning to go sit alone in a room and play music that his own mother wouldn't mind hearing?
At that moment I would have given serious consideration to quitting except that Scott had asked me to play a song for him this morning.
"What do you want to hear?" I had asked.
"I don't care, just play something special," he had said. "As long as I know you're playing it for me."
That was Wednesday and I had spent the last three days trying to decide what to play. I was enough of a romantic that I could relate half the songs I heard to Scott and I but we didn't have one special song of our own. I wanted whatever I played to tell Scott how wonderful he was and how he made my life worth living.
I was still trying to decide what to play for him as I drove to the station when it occurred to me that, since we hadn't chosen a song together, he would have no way of knowing which one was for him. I had told him to be sure and listen between eight and nine o'clock but even with time for commercials and a news break I would still play at least a dozen songs during that hour. I guess I could call him and tell him it was coming, but somehow it seemed like that would ruin it. As soon as I got to work I started digging through the station's entire collection of music, old and new. They were organized by artists and I started with the A's. It was 7:30 and I was up to the J's by the time I found a song that would say what I wanted and just happened to provided a solution to my other problem at the same time.
Once I found the song I didn't want to wait any longer than I had to so when the network newscast ended at 8:04 I quickly cut the satellite feed and turned on my mike. "It's a beautiful morning at KMTP, Mountain Pine," I said. "I had a special request earlier from someone who wanted me to play a special song, and since I think you're such a special person" ...subtlety was obviously not my strongest suit... "here's `Your Song'." I turned off the microphone and wished I could have been holding Scott in my arms as Elton John sang:
It's a little bit funny, this feelin' inside.
I'm not one of those who can easily hide.
I don't have much money but, boy if I did
I'd buy a big house where we both could live.
If I was a sculptor, but then again no,
Or a man who makes potions in the traveling show,
I know it's not much but it's the best I can do
My gift is my song and this one's for you.
And you can tell everybody, this is your song.
It may be quite simple but now that it's done
I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind that I put
down into words
How wonderful life is while you're in the world.
Dad wasn't home when I got to his house that afternoon and I was still exhausted from the lack of sleep the night before so I stretched out on the couch to take a nap. I had just closed my eyes when I heard the front door open.
"Wake up, Ty-boy, you can't sleep your life away, we've got work do be doing."
"Huh?" I grumbled, rubbing my eyes.
"Get up," Dad said, sounding a little irritated. "I've got a crew putting in overtime up at Stephen's Creek today. I just came back here to get you. Come on, a little work's not going to hurt you any." Dad was a building contractor and every once in a while he'd get on this kick about how I needed to learn to do something useful and I'd have to spend the next couple of days driving nails or mixing cement until I inevitably screwed something up badly enough to make him get mad and tell me to get lost. I admit I hated the work but I hated disappointing him even more.
"But, Dad, I already worked all morning," I protested, knowing it was useless. Dad was completely unimpressed by my debating ability.
"Oh, please, you call that work? You wouldn't know real work if it jumped up and bit your skinny little ass." I realized that I had another 28 hours or so with Dad and from the way things had started off they could either be merely unpleasant or downright miserable. I quickly decided to give up the fight and go along. Sometimes Dad and I actually had fun on our weekends together but those times were getting to be fewer and further between. I hated myself for being jealous of Kevin, but I could definitely relate to Jacob, always knowing that Esau was his father's favorite.
When we got to the site Dad introduced me to a couple of the newer men, telling them that I was one of those guys that was going to make a living with my head instead of my hands, but that he wanted me to know how to work anyway just in case I fell and bruised my brain. As if to remind himself of his little joke he made me wear a hardhat despite the fact that I worked on the roof all afternoon and the only thing likely to fall on my head was bird crap.
Overall it was a thoroughly miserable day. I was fighting to keep my eyes open and at the same time honestly trying to do a halfway decent job nailing in shingles. I knew I wasn't going fast enough to be much help, but I at least didn't want someone else to have to come along behind me and redo what little work I was getting done. I must have done better than I thought because for once Dad didn't criticize.
"Hurry up, Ty," he said as I walked slowly toward his pickup truck. "Let's go home and get cleaned up and eat a bite and then I've got a little birthday present for you. I'm taking you with me to the Horseshoe Club tonight." The Horseshoe Club was basically an old-fashioned honky-tonk with a bar and Country Western dancing. That was Dad's idea of a night on the town. I didn't think he was serious about taking me, though.
"Yeah, and then we'll fly to Vegas and hit the casinos," I said.
"No, I'm serious, son. We'll have a good time."
"But Dad, I'm only 17, and I don't even look that old," I said.
"Nonsense," he insisted, "you look as old as I did when I was 25. Besides they never check anybody's ID."
Again, there was no point in arguing. I just assumed that I would be carded and turned away at the door and the whole ordeal would be over before it began, but just as Dad had said no one was checking at the door and the waitress didn't even blink when Dad ordered beers for both of us.
From the time I was eight or nine Dad would let me have a taste of his beer. It made Mom mad but he told her it was good for me because that way I wouldn't feel like I needed to go out drinking to rebel. I guess it must have worked because I never had any desire to get drunk and I hated the taste of beer. I sipped at the bottle of Bud while Dad scanned the crowded room, occasionally shouting to some good ol' boy he knew or whistling at some woman he might have known or might not have. Before I knew it he was calling for the waitress to bring him another beer and asking me if I was done with mine yet.
"Not quite," I said, trying not to make a face while I took another sip.
He drained the second one faster than the first and sat it down hard on the table. "Looks like you've got some catching up to do, boy. I'll be back in a little while." With that he got up and crossed the room to sit in a booth across from a couple of chain-smoking, beer-guzzling women trying their best to look 29. By the time the waitress came by to pick up the empty bottles he had hit the dance floor.
At least the waitress was kind of good-looking. She was tall and blonde with hazel eyes that were pretty despite a touch of redness. The name tag on her uniform identified her as Marley. She couldn't have been more than 25 years old. When she noticed that my beer was still half full she asked if maybe I'd rather have a soft drink. ---Are you kidding, I'd almost rather have a glass of horse piss.--- I didn't actually say it but the expression on my face must have conveyed the message. I'm sure I must have looked as pathetic as I felt.
"Aw, cheer up, Sport," she said with a smile. She walked away and came back shortly with the soda and a nearly full bottle of Bacardi. Very carefully she poured exactly one drop of the Bacardi into the glass. "Now when Daddy comes back, just tell him you switched to Coke and rum," she said.
I figured Dad would see right through this little ruse, but when he finally did come back to the table he looked at the bottle and said, "Rum and Coke, huh? A little tame but I guess you gotta start somewhere." He pointed out one of the younger women in the club and told me I should ask her to dance.
"I don't know," I said.
"What do you mean, you don't know?" he asked. "You know you want some of that. Come on, I'll bet she'll dance with you. Who knows, she might even do more than that."
"I'm not very good at talking to girls I don't know," I said. ---Heck, I can't even talk to most of the girls I do know. Then again, I don't really need to anymore, either.---
"That's why you need the practice," he insisted, practically dragging me out of my chair. When he was sure I was headed in the right direction he took off to find a dance partner of his own.
I stood at the young lady's table with my hands in my pocket for an eternity before she looked up. "Would you like to dance?" I mumbled.
She pursed her lips and creased her brow as though it were the most difficult question she had ever been asked. "Guess so," she said without enthusiasm. She was not completely unattractive, but she was no raving beauty, either. Her flaming red hair was obviously an accomplishment of modern chemistry and she wore too much makeup, but she had a good figure and long legs that contrasted nicely with her short skirt. We danced without speaking for a while until I realized I hadn't even introduced myself.
"I'm Tyler Fox," I said.
"Jen," she said, as if that explained it all. "Tyler Fox, why does that name sound familiar?"
I brightened up for the first time all night. Obviously she was a fan. "I'm on the radio," I said proudly. "KMTP. Weekend mornings."
"No, I never listen to that station and I don't get up early on weekends." She was not at all impressed and my bubble had effectively been burst. "I've met a Troy Fox in here before. You related to him?" she asked.
"Yeah, he's my dad," I said.
"Your dad?" she asked incredulously.
"Uh-huh."
"What are you, like fifteen?" she asked.
"Seventeen," I said, insulted.
"Well thanks for the dance, then, but I don't do minors," she said and walked away, leaving me standing on the dance floor alone as the music wound down.
I went into the bathroom and sat in a stall longer than I could have reasonably explained. I now had a strong suspicion that getting drunk wasn't the only first-time experience Dad had in mind for me tonight. I wanted this night to be over with. I wanted to go home. Most of all I wanted Scott.
When I finally came out of the restroom Marley met me at the table with two glasses of Coke and another bottle of Bacardi, this one almost half empty. The first had mysteriously disappeared.
"I'm taking my break now. Mind if I sit here a while?" she asked. I pulled a chair out for her before I sit down, wondering if Dad had sent her.
"Are you having a good time?" she asked. I gave her a sickly smile by way of reply and she laughed, not like she was laughing at me, but more like she sympathized with my plight. "Well, don't worry, honey, it's not like you're the first boy whose Daddy ever brought him in here against his will. I see it all the time. You know, he probably thinks this is a special treat, bringing you here. I bet it's your birthday or something."
"I'll be seventeen tomorrow," I confirmed.
"Well you are just a puppy, aren't you?" I should have been offended by that, but she made it sound like a compliment. "Try not to be too hard on him. Your Daddy is a good ol' boy, and I mean that in a nice way, but he doesn't understand that you wouldn't like a place like this. You don't drink, you don't like to dance, at least not to this kind of music, and for whatever reason you're not interested in picking up a woman. Maybe you've got a girlfriend you think you're really in love with, or maybe you're a virgin and you don't want your first time to be with an older woman your Daddy helped you pick up in a bar," she paused for a barely perceptible moment, "or maybe you don't even like girls."
--- God, is it written on my forehead? --- I wondered, and then I realized that it probably hadn't been until just now.
"Don't worry, sugar, I was just kiddin'," she said, but the little smile she added said differently. I was really going to have to work on this.
"Now, there's two ways we can get you through this," she said.
Just then I looked up and saw Dad on the dance floor with a short blonde girl that had to be closer to my age than his. He looked up and gave me a sly smile and a wink as though we shared some mischievous secret. ---Good Lord, he thinks I'm hitting on the waitress. --- It took me a minute to re-focus on what Marley was saying.
"...tell the manager and he'll have to come around and check your ID and kick you out. Of course, your Daddy's liable to blow a gasket and then Chuck will call the cops."
"Doesn't sound like much of a plan," I said. "What else ya got?"
"I'll come around to your table whenever your Daddy's here and you show me those cute dimples like you think I'm the prettiest thing you ever saw and I'll make sure this bottle of rum is empty by the end of the night without him finding out it's not going in your glass. I may even get a friend to dance a couple of dances with you, and then when I get off at eleven you tell Daddy I'm giving you a ride home. Just make sure you act like we're not going straight home. He'll be thrilled."
I was almost as excited at the idea of deceiving my father as I was about the prospect of getting out of there in another couple of hours. Between her looks and her devious little mind Marley was quickly becoming someone I could fall in love with. It took less than a second for that thought to be replaced in my mind with an image of Scott's beautiful face and I immediately felt as guilty as if I had actually cheated on him. It made the next two hours seem like ten, but we did manage to pull off our little charade. I guess Dad was wrong when he said drama class was a waste of time.
We were parked in Dad's driveway before it occurred to me to ask Marley why she had done all this.
"I told you, I've seen this kind of thing before," she said. She paused for several seconds, but just when I decided this was going to be all the explanation I would get she took a deep breath and continued. "I'm not just talking about rednecks bringing their sons into the club. I mean I've seen a sweet, sensitive boy who's just a little different from the other guys trying real hard not to let his father down and not to fall apart in the process." Her eyes were filling up with tears and I could see she was fighting to keep her composure. "My little brother's just three years older than you. He's been out in California for over a year now and I'm the only one in the family that even talks to him anymore. I guess you remind me of him."
"How did you know?" I asked. I knew I didn't have to explain what I meant anymore than she had to explain why her family had disowned her brother.
"I didn't at first. I really do see a lot of young guys in there with their Daddies and I always try to be nice to them. I think I'm getting a reputation for going after the young ones, but it's not like that. I don't know why I made that crack about you not liking girls but as soon as I did I saw this look of pure terror flash across your face. I'd seen that same look in Steve's eyes before he got so good at covering up and I knew I had to offer what little help I could. I just wish I could have helped him."
"Thanks. I'm sure it helps a lot just to know there's still one person in his family who cares." Impulsively I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. There were no more guilty feelings now, and no need for them. "He's lucky to have you for a sister," I said.
She smiled weakly. "He's lucky just to be alive..." she trailed off as though unwilling to complete the thought. Something told me I didn't want to hear the rest of it anyway, so I quickly thanked her again for everything and got out of the truck.
I didn't sleep much that night, either. I kept thinking about the things Marley had said and about what it must have been like for her brother, what it would be like for me if people found out. I also worried about how easily Marley had read my face. I had to make sure that didn't happen again. I was determined that no one else would find out. Naturally I didn't want to face the consequences of people knowing I was gay, but there was more to it than that. I guess I'm a hopeless romantic, but I liked the idea that there was a part of my soul that was known only to Scott in the same way that my body was his alone.
These thoughts were still on my mind the next morning as I tried not to fall asleep on the job at the radio station. A little before eight I looked through the CD's for the soundtrack from City of Angels. It was a great movie with a lot of good music. Sara McLachlan's "Angel" was probably my favorite song at the moment, but the track I wanted was "Iris" by the Goo Goo Dolls. There was a message in that song - obviously not the one the artist intended - but one I could still hear and I wanted Scott to hear it, too.
"KMTP plays all the best from the Sixties to today," I said. It sounded lame but it was the station's latest slogan and I tried to keep the boss happy. "And here's another special song from the movie City of Angels'." I tried to emphasize the word special' without sounding too ridiculous. In all likelihood Scott wasn't even listening and if he was he probably wouldn't understand, but I told myself that his heart would hear and I turned up the volume on the in-studio monitor to drive everything from my head except the lyrics.
And I'd give up forever to touch you
Cause I know that you feel me somehow.
You're the closest to heaven that I've ever been
And I don't want to go home right now.
When all I can taste is this moment
And all I can breathe is your life,
And sooner or later it's over,
I just don't want to miss you tonight.
And I don't want the world to see me
Cause I don't think that they'd understand.
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am.
When I got back to Dad's that afternoon he had cooked a meal fit for a king. He had always been a good cook when he wanted to be and for whatever reason he wanted to be today. He kept grinning at me and patting me on the shoulder like we were old friends who hadn't seen each other in a while. I hadn't seen him in such a good mood in a long time.
---The old man must have gotten lucky last night.--- I hadn't heard him come in and I had been awake for at least a couple of hours after Marley left. ---You idiot!"--- the voice in my head screamed ---he's not happy because he got lucky, he's happy because you did!---
With remarkable timing Dad smiled at me again and winked. "That little Marley's pretty hot, huh?"
"Yeah, she's cute," I said, trying to sound like I had no idea what he was talking about.
"She kind of likes a guy like you, ya know, still kind of soft around the edges and wet behind the ears. Just don't go thinking you've fallen in love with her or anything. You know you're not the first guy she's offered a ride home to."
I felt dirty letting him talk and think like this when Marley had been so nice to me, but I was aware that this was exactly what she had expected him to think and setting him straight would defeat the whole purpose of her efforts.
After lunch Dad told me I should just watch TV or something while he did the dishes. This kind of generosity was not typical of my father so I decided to take advantage of it while it lasted. Now, I know most guys my age would prefer MTV or Baywatch, but being the atypical teen I was I watched a show called Investigative Reports. They were doing a story on the Matthew Shepard murder, focusing on the motivation behind the crime. From what I could tell it looked like the whole thing probably started off as a simple robbery, but it also seemed clear that the reason robbery turned into murder, especially such a vicious murder, was because his attackers hated him for being gay. The program was almost over when Dad came into the room.
"Looks to me like they did him a favor," he said.
"What?"
"That queer," he said. "It looks to me like they did him a favor. Somebody oughtta put `em all out of their misery."
Just the night before I had recognized the need to keep a calm exterior and already my ability to do that was being tested to the limits. I smiled a little to hide the fact that I was gritting my teeth. I didn't speak and I wondered if Dad had noticed that I wasn't breathing either. If he had doubled up his fist and punched me in the stomach I wouldn't have felt much different. But I kept it all inside.
When I finally regained a small amount of composure I told Dad I was tired and wanted to take a nap. I said something about not getting much sleep the night before and Dad gave me another one of those winks that was beginning to make me feel nauseated.
Much to my surprise I actually did go to sleep, but I didn't get much rest. I kept having the most horrible dreams. The first one didn't seem to make much sense. I was sitting in front of a computer working on something. I'm not sure what it was but somehow I knew it was brilliant - the kind of thing that would change the world. And then Dad came up to me and put a hardhat on my head. Suddenly my mind went blank and the keyboard quit working. I would take the hat off and everything would be back to normal, but then Dad would put it back on again and say, "Careful, you wouldn't want to bruise your brain."
The next was worse. Scott and I were both tied to fenceposts, naked, while two guys in black hoods hit us with hammers. I couldn't see my Dad but I could hear his voice in my head saying, "Somebody has to put you out of your misery."
The last was the worst of all. Marley was lying naked on one of the tables in the Horseshoe Club and I was standing over her with my pants down around my ankles. Everyone in the place had stopped to watch us and Dad was standing beside me saying. "Happy birthday, Ty-boy. Go ahead and fuck her. It'll be good for you." I woke up with this image in my brain, filled with self-disgust as I realized my dick was hard.
I was more tired than I had ever been in my life but I fought to keep from going back to sleep. As soon as I thought I could I got up and told Dad it was time for me to go. He mumbled good-bye and barely looked up from the television. At some point I had decided that this would be the last weekend I would spend at my father's house and as I walked out the door I wondered if he would even care.
The sanctuary was nearly empty when I got to church. I went to the altar and kneeled to pray. This was not something I normally did but I felt that if I didn't find some way to empty my heart it would explode. I needed to pray for so much - for protection, for understanding, for relief, for forgiveness - but no matter what I started praying for I always came back to one thing - thanking God for giving me Scott and for the fact that he loved me. As I got up from the altar I knew that there was no going back. I could no longer even consider living without Scott and I knew that this wasn't wrong, and if it was, God could forgive me even if no one else could.
I was almost back to my usual pew before I noticed that Mom and Kevin had come in. They only came to evening worship when I had been at Dad's for the weekend and it made me feel good to think they couldn't wait another hour to see me. They both gave me hugs and wished me a happy birthday. Mom asked what I had been praying about but I just shrugged it off and she didn't push.
Uncle Mike and Aunt Val followed us home from church and within a half-hour an assortment of relatives had arrived. I was already opening presents when Scott got there and it took an enormous act of will not to give him a big hug and kiss in front of the whole family. I couldn't believe how much I missed him after only two days apart.
The little party was as much an excuse for the adults to get together as it was a celebration for me, which was fine since I wasn't in much of a mood to celebrate anyway. Scott and Kevin and I played video games along with my cousin Jay. I had too much on my mind to play very well, even Kevin was beating me most of the time, but I didn't care. All I was really trying to do was pass the time until I could finally be alone with Scott again.
Luckily for me I was just about the only night owl in the family and by ten o'clock everyone was gone. Almost as soon as the last relatives were out the door I told Mom that I was worn out - it was true - and Scott and I retreated to my room. When the door was safely locked behind us Scott opened the gym bag he had brought his extra clothes in and pulled out an envelope.
I would have been so much more than happy with a Hallmark card with one of those mushy poems inside, but Scott again exceeded all expectations. The card said simply "For The One I Love" on the outside and inside there was no pre-printed verse, only Scott's own handwriting.
"You are my heart, my soul, my breath, and my life.
Your love is the most special gift, the most precious of all my many
blessings.
Grace' means unmerited favor.' I can't imagine anything I could
possibly have done to deserve your love, so I accept it thankfully as
an act of grace from you and from God.
Always know I love you.
Scott."
For someone who loved to talk as much as I did, words seemed to be failing me a lot lately. Even if I could have found the right thing to say, the lump in my throat was too big to have let it out. I just turned to Scott and put my arms around him, allowing him to hold me while I kissed him his soft lips. That kiss was perhaps the most passionate we had shared yet, but it had nothing to do with sex or lust. It simply told Scott I loved him more clearly than a million words could have explained.
"I love you, Scott Knight," I said, "but I'll never understand you. I'm glad you love me, but I'll never know why and I certainly will never understand why you think you're so lucky to have me."
Scott didn't answer but the look of sincere bewilderment on his face was perhaps the nicest compliment he had ever given me.
"You surely can't be that blind," I said. "You're the sweetest, funniest, most intelligent, wonderful human being I have ever known and on top of that you're also the handsomest man on the planet."
"You sound to me like you're describing yourself," Scott said.
"Please, Scott, think about it. Every girl I know wants to be my `friend,' but they all want you to be their boyfriend, or their husband, even. Surely you've figured out by now how gorgeous you are," I said. "I look like day-old road kill next to you."
"Tyler, don't say things like that," Scott said in a scolding tone. "You're talking about the man I love. And you are beautiful. When I look at your face I feel like I'm looking at an angel. I'd walk barefoot across broken glass to see you smile. And your eyes," he said, "do you ever wonder why I like to go to the lake so much?"
"I don't know, I just thought you liked to fish," I said.
"Ty, I wouldn't mind if I never caught another fish in my life. I like the lake because when it's a really clear day, like it was Wednesday, the water is the exact same shade of blue as your eyes. A guy could drown in your eyes and not even care."
Personally, I thought Scott must be delusional, but I knew he meant what he was saying so I just prayed that his clouded mind would never clear.
"On top of that, you are also the most beautiful person on the inside. I've never known anyone else like you. I don't think you have an unkind or hateful bone in your body," he said.
"Who would I hate?" I asked.
"I don't know," he hesitated. "Ty, I'm not saying you should or anything, but most guys would probably hate your father for treating you the way he has."
I was stunned. Of course, Dad really had treated me like crap the last several years, not to mention ruining my life by leaving Mom and Kevin and I, but until now I it was like I thought all of this had happened in a closet where no one could see it but me.
"I can't hate my dad," I said quietly. "I know things haven't been so great between us lately, but it wasn't always that way. Dad taught me how to swim and ride a horse. He put up a goal in the backyard and spent an entire weekend putting in an asphalt court for me even though he hated basketball. I can still remember when I was about four or five he would carry me to bed every night and tickle me with his beard when he tucked me in. I don't hate him, I just miss him."
We got undressed and crawled under the covers. Scott told me to roll over so he could give me a backrub and began working two days of tension out of my neck and shoulders. "Now will you tell me what's been bothering you," he said. "I know you're tired but there's something else, isn't there?"
"Why does he hate me, Scott?" I whispered.
Scott put his arms around me and pulled me back toward him. "He doesn't hate you, Ty. He doesn't even know who you are. I'm the one who knows you, and I love you."
"You heard the song?" I asked.
"I heard it like it was your own voice," he said.
"Scotty."
"Yeah?"
"I want you."
"You've got me, babe. I'm not going anywhere," he said.
"No, I mean I want you in me. I want you to make love to me."
"Are you sure?" he asked. "I want to, but not until you're sure you're ready."
"I've never been more sure of anything in my life."
Scott made love to me slowly and gently. In the end he began to lose control, just as I had with him, but by then any thoughts of pain or fear were no longer important. The only thing that mattered was letting Scott know how much I loved him and having him become a part of me.
When it was over, Scott got up and put his shorts and T-shirt back on. He still wasn't comfortable sleeping in the buff, but I didn't mind. His T-shirts always had a fresh, just-from-the-dryer smell and I laid my head on his chest and inhaled deeply, then fell soundly asleep for the first time in days.
I awoke like sleeping beauty, being kissed back to life by my very own Prince Charming. It was 7:30 and I felt like I could sleep for at least four more hours but it was our last day together so I gathered as much energy as I could muster and got out of bed. Scott seemed to be even more energetic than usual and for just a second I resented him for it, but he was so cute, like a kid getting ready to go to the circus, and before long his enthusiasm was beginning to rub off on me.
"Mom's taking Kevin with her to the school today for some last minute preparations, so we can just hang around here if you want or we can go to the lake or the youth center, or whatever you want," I said.
"I've already made plans," he said with a big smile. He obviously had a surprise up his sleeve, but I wasn't going to let him get the best of me.
"Oh, well, then," I said. "I hope you have fun. I guess I'll see you next weekend maybe."
"No, you big giraffe, I made plans for us. The two of us. Together," he said. He had a pained expression on his face but I knew he knew I wasn't really that dense.
"Okay, okay," I laughed. "What have you got?"
"You'll see," he said. "You're going to love it."
Scott had driven about ten miles out of Mountain Pine and stopped, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. We were heading in the general direction of the lake, but he had left the main road a while back. "Do you trust me?" he asked.
"Not for a minute," I laughed.
"Ty, I'm serious, do you trust me?" he asked again.
"Of course I trust you. You don't really have to ask, do you?"
"No. I just wanted to hear you say the words," he said. Then he reached behind the seat and pulled out a strip of cloth about a yard long and six inches wide. "Since you trust me, I want you to put this around your eyes."
"What for?" I asked.
"No questions, Tyler, you trust me, remember? If you don't put this on you'll figure out where we're going and I want you to be surprised when we get there. Just do it for me, babe, please." Once again he had said the magic words. I would do anything for him.
We drove for what seemed like another ten miles. At first I tried to keep track of where we were headed but my sense of direction was poor enough when I could see. Finally I felt the car begin to slow as we rounded what seemed to be several extremely sharp curves. I had decided Scott had probably found some secluded spot on the lake where we could be alone, but it occurred to me that we weren't heading downhill as we would have to be to get to any point on the water.
Finally the car stopped and Scott removed the blindfold. I looked around for a while, trying to blink away the brightness of the sun. The surroundings were not immediately familiar. We were in a mostly wooded area. The lake was just visible in the distance off to the west. There was an old-fashioned split-rail fence in front of us with a gate open wide across the road. I looked up and saw the sign over the gate. "River Valley Dude Ranch - Ya'll Come."
"I called last week to see if they still had a big bay gelding that had been here for about five years. They said they did and they also had a little black mare that they promised was gentle enough for someone that barely knew how to ride at all. I rented them out for the day."
It was the second nicest gift I had ever been given.
*** Well, there it is. What do you think? Is it worth the trouble for me to continue? I hope to put at least two or three more chapters between here and the prom. I know that's a crazy way to write a story, but no one ever accused me of sanity. Contact me at tyfox84@hotmail.com. I appreciate any feedback and always try to answer my mail. Love and Prayers to all of you. Ty.