Unexpected Guest © David Lee, 2015
Disclaimer: This is piece of gay romantic writing and, as such, involves physical love between consenting adults. If reading this type of story is illegal for you, please go to another site. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy this fictional account. If you do, please let me know @ dlee169@hotmail.com. If you put the title in the subject line, it will help me to rescue your email from the spam folder if it ends up there.
I will attempt to post new chapters toward the end of each week until the whole novella is complete. I anticipate that it will run about 13 to 14 chapters. If you wish to receive notification when a new chapter is up, I can add your address to my list. Don't forget to contribute to Nifty if you can. Please help this free service to continue.
Thanks,
David
Unexpected Guest
Chapter 1
On an unusually warm March afternoon, Shelby sat on the deck at the back of his house sipping a glass of decent red wine when he heard the doorbell ring. He figured it was probably a salesman or a candidate running for the recently vacated city council seat courting his vote, so he nearly didn't get up to answer it. At the end of a long, busy week he wanted to relax undisturbed. But the buzzing persisted until he couldn't stand it any longer.
Resigned to his fate, he got up and went through the house to confront the person who was insistently trying to get his attention. On his doorstep he saw a young man with a backpack. He assumed it was a kid selling something for school.
"Hi, are you Shelby Stern?" the kid asked.
"I'm Shelby Stein. Why did you call me that?" he asked, wondering what this boy knew.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought the White Pages must be wrong about your last name because everything else fits the profile of a guy who writes erotic stories for Nifty in the high school section."
"Are you trying to get someone in trouble for polluting young minds? You know there are various disclaimers about not reading erotic tales if you're under age. I've never intended to lead anyone astray!"
"Ah, so it is you! There were enough hints in your author's notes over the last couple of years for me to put together a profile. This is not a very big town you know, and you're the only guy that fits. In fact, you're the only one I could find in the area with that unusual first name."
"Okay, you got me; now what?"
"I hoped you'd be able to help me find a place to stay. It's my 18th birthday and the present from my parents was to kick their no-good fag son out first thing this morning."
"Are you serious?"
"Completely. Here, you can see my date of birth on my driver's license."
Shelby took the proffered card and studied it carefully. Today, the young man had become an adult.
"Well, Dalton, why don't you come in and join me for a drink?"
Dalton's eyes widened as he wondered what he'd gotten himself into.
"Um, I'm too young to drink, but thanks anyway."
"Surely you're old enough for a glass of lemonade or iced tea!" Shelby grinned broadly. "Did you think I was going to get you drunk and entice you into my bed?"
"I'm sorry, but it did cross my mind momentarily," Dalton admitted, blushing.
"You alluded to my stories on Nifty. Have you read any of them?"
"Every single word you've ever posted; and I love them all!
"Then you must know that I'm not the kind of person who would get a cute young guy drunk in order to take advantage of him."
"Yeah, you don't project that kind of persona at all," Dalton agreed. "But in real life, you have to be very careful."
"Indeed you do. How do I know you're not some misguided do-gooder trying to set me up?"
"I'm not that kind of person either," Dalton said with emotion. "I'm at my wits end and I have nowhere to turn. I've been afraid that something like this might happen with my parents and that's why I did my detective work ahead of time to find you. Since we live in the same town, I thought maybe you could fix me up with a good foster family, like people in your stories do. I'm sorry I bothered you; I'll go."
"Whoa, hold on a minute. I'm not turning you away. Come on in and tell me about yourself. You seem to know everything about me and I know nothing about you."
"Yeah, you do. I'm `Sammy,' the kid who emails you every week."
"But Sammy's supposed to have been 18 two years ago."
"Well, I fudged a little on the calendar. I told you my birthday was March 20th, which it is, but I lied about the year."
"Your parents threw you out this morning, right?"
"Yeah, my mother sent me packing the very first thing. I didn't have time to get anything but my school stuff and my jacket. I was lucky that I put my laptop in my backpack last night."
"Have you eaten today?"
"Not much, sir."
"Cut out the `sir' crap and let me make you a sandwich to tide you over until dinner. Can you smell it cooking?"
"It's making my mouth water! I think it might be something my grandmother made when she visited many years ago."
"Not likely; it's Boeuf Bourguignon."
"Yes, that's a French stew otherwise known as Beef Burgundy because English-speaking people call the region by that name since they have a difficult time with pronouncing the `gn' sound in words."
"How do you know that, smarty?" Shelby laughed.
"Ma grand-mère, elle est d'origine française! Actually, she's French Canadian, but speaks almost no English."
"Would she give you a home?"
"Possibly, if I had the means or the desire to go to Canada. Are you trying to get rid of me?"
"I'm running through the list of possible people like the characters in my stories do. Is there really no one?"
"None I can think of, and believe me I wracked my brain. Coming here was a long-shot, and one I didn't really plan on using until today."
"What story would your parents give me if I called them?" Shelby asked as he handed Dalton a pastrami on rye sandwich.
"Probably what I've told you. They make no bones about the fact that having a gay son is unacceptable and that they owe me nothing. Mother likes everything neat and it its place. My orientation doesn't fit the conventional mode."
Shelby looked up the Davis' number in the phone book. It wasn't that Dalton's story sounded fishy, but he wanted to make sure he wasn't going to be talking to someone posing as his parents for whatever reason.
"Davis residence, this is Mary."
"My name is Shelby and I was wondering if I could talk to your son, Dalton."
"He doesn't live here anymore. Goodbye."
"Wait, can you tell me how I can get in touch with him?"
"I have no idea and I couldn't care less!"
CLICK.
Shelby turned to see tears streaming down Dalton's face. The phone had been on "speaker" and he'd heard both sides of the conversation.
"Sorry, I didn't think she could hurt me anymore," Dalton sniffled.
Shelby went over to Dalton's chair and put his hands on the boy's shoulders, massaging them lightly with his finger tips. Dalton arose and turned toward Shelby hesitatingly until Shelby wrapped him in his arms. Then the boy sobbed in earnest. Only after Dalton was cried out did Shelby continue with dinner preparations.
"Would you mind setting the table while I put the bread in to heat? You'll find the flatware in the first drawer on the left and the plates are in the cupboard right above it. We'll need small ones for the bread and medium ones for the salad as well as dinner plates."
Dalton made himself useful by doing as Shelby requested, and then filling two tall glasses with ice and water from the dispenser in the freezer door of the side by side refrigerator. Shelby was pleased to see him heading in without being told what else to do.
Their dinner was a casual but gourmet affair featuring slices of a fresh French baguette with a good, firm crust and a lettuce salad to complement the French stew.
"That was an awesome dinner. You're as good a cook as my grandmother."
"I'm glad you liked it. Are you sure you don't want a third helping?"
"No, I'm fine. I've already made a pig of myself."
"So, you have literally nothing but the clothes on your back?" Shelby said as they were tidying up after eating.
"I have my gym stuff in my locker at school, but that's it."
"Well, I guess we'd better go to Kohl's and find you some things to wear to tide you over until we can see about getting your clothes. We can stop at Wal-Mart for toiletries."
"We could just go to Wal-Mart because things are cheaper there. I don't have a lot of cash to spare and I don't want you spending your money on me."
"As you wish, Dalton. I'll give you some bucks to spend on whatever you decide. You may want to make a list and prioritize. You might not need a coat until next winter, but you'll need something for the chilly days yet this spring."
"That's really kind! You ARE like the caring adults in your stories. Why don't I start with a few essentials and wait until I'm with a foster family to get winter things?"
"I don't know of any foster families who take 18 year olds. You're considered an adult and on your own regardless of the fact you're still in high school."
"I guess I'll have to drop out and get a better-paying job."
"Nope, not getting your diploma is not an option while you're under my roof."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Probably what you're thinking; I'm a sucker for a nice kid in trouble. You can live with me for the time being. We'll have to see how things work out."
"Thanks," Dalton said softly in a voice choked with tears.
Shelby saw that Dalton was choosing wisely to make the money stretch. His purchases amounted to a pair of inexpensive jeans, two pullover shirts, a six-pack of string bikini underwear, and an eight-pack of black socks.
When they went to the toiletries aisle, Shelby said that he had plenty of shampoo and soap at home. He also had a supply of toothpaste and toothbrushes from his dental visits that were still in their original packaging because he used a rechargeable one. He suggested that Dalton choose his favorite deodorant, shaving cream, and razors if he needed them.
When it was all rung up at the register, the total was far less than the money Shelby had given him to spend.
"Uh, here's your change,"
"No, it's your change. You'll need some money for incidentals. By the way, do you have a lunch ticket?"
"No, my mother is so organized that she made sure there would be just enough money to get me through the week until the day she cut me loose. When I went to get my lunch at school, my account came up empty and I was ashamed to borrow because I didn't know how I'd pay it back. I had a few dollars on me, but I didn't know how long I'd have to stretch it out until I get paid again."
"That's terrible! I think we'll stop by your parents' house right now on the way home and demand that they give you your clothes at least."
"I don't know, it could get ugly; my dad's a big guy and he may be drinking pretty heavily because it IS Friday night."
"Don't worry; I can handle myself. If you read my profile notes in depth, you know I have martial arts training."
"Really? I figured that was a little embroidering like me being two years older than I really am."
"Nope, I'm for real."
"If we DO get some of my stuff, we can take this back and get a refund."
"Nah, you can use the jeans and shirts, and you'd better keep the underwear for sure. I have a feeling some boy is going to appreciate your cute little butt in them."
Dalton grinned and blushed.
Mary Davis opened the door and saw only a stranger on the porch because Dalton had stayed out of sight behind one of the arborvitaes which flanked the steps.
"Yes, what do you want?" was her terse question.
"I'm here to collect Dalton's things."
"How do you know about them and what makes you think I'm going to give them to you?"
"I have a friend on the police force whose number is on my speed dial and he can be here in 10 minutes if you refuse."
"Roy, there's a man here demanding Dalton's crap. Come out and take care of this!"
Her husband charged out of the house like an angry bison, fists cocked to deliver a punch. He was face-down on the porch floor before he knew what had happened.
"Let him up or I'll call the police!" Mary screamed.
"Please do. Then he can explain why he attached me with no provocation or warning."
"It's your word against ours, stupid!"
"No Mommy dearest, it's our word plus the video on Shelby's cell phone against your word."
"Where the hell did you come from?"
"I'm hoping it was the stork because the alternative disgusts me! If you're talking about right now, I've been behind the tree all this time. Now let me in to get my things."
"Your shit is all bagged up for the Goodwill."
"Since, by your own words it's Dalton's property, I suggest you bring it out here and HE can decide what he wants to keep and what goes to charity."
"And what if I don't?"
"Your husband and I will be spending a long chilly night on this porch unless we call my friend at the police department."
"Okay, let Roy up first."
"Not a chance! He'll remain where he is until we get everything. Dalton, please check each bag to see that it's all there. I don't want to have to make another trip, and don't forget your bike if you have one."
Roy Davis yelled and spat at Shelby until the latter applied a little more pressure on the man's arm, calmly telling him to settle down unless he wanted his shoulder dislocated. Even in his inebriated state, the man had enough sense to do as he was told. Most likely the pain had a way of cutting through the alcohol-induced fog.
When Dalton had crammed the many bags into the back of Shelby's SUV and secured his bicycle on the rack, he announced that he was ready to leave. Shelby whispered something in Roy's ear and then jumped up to join Dalton in the car. Roy did not get up until they were out of sight.
It wasn't difficult to inventory Dalton's possessions because his mother had taped lists of the contents on the side of each trash bag. She had been planning to request a receipt for tax purposes and she wanted to be credited for the whole lot. She had even washed up what Dalton had worn the day before so that everything of his would be out of her house and gone forever.
"You were smart to go over there tonight," Dalton remarked. "By tomorrow morning it would all have been at the Goodwill. She tends to leave her donations on Saturday mornings on the way home from the health club at 9:00. Doing it all in one trip saves gas. She could drop it off on the way, but no one would be there to give her the tax receipt."
"I'm glad too. I'm also happy that you warned me about your father so we could be ready to video his attack. That was our ace in the hole."
"What did you say to him to keep him from going after you when you let go of him?"
"I really shouldn't tell you."
"Ah, come on; I won't tell anyone."
"Okay, I said if he made any move I'd come back and ravage his sorry ass with a beer bottle until he shot his load."
"Funny! He'd probably like it if the bottle was full. Then he could get his alcohol from both ends at once," Dalton giggled. "I heard you could get drunk a little faster that way."
"It really surprises me that he's like that. I wouldn't think he'd fit in your mother's tidy little world."
"He doesn't really, but she made him that way. She emasculated him a long time ago. I'll bet you the price of a Dairy Queen that she'll throw him out next. Actually I feel a little sorry for him, not a LOT, but some."
"He does seem rather pathetic. It was kind of sad to see him lying there while she shrieked at him as we left.
Would you like a snack while we relax a bit before going to bed?" Shel asked as they headed in the back door.
"Sure, but I should shower first if we're going to bed," Dalton grinned.
"That's not how I meant it, smarty!"
"I just repeated your words, Sir," Dalton replied feigning innocence.
"Go get your shower and come down to the kitchen when you're done," Shelby said, playfully swatting him on the butt.
"Child abuse, child abuse," Dalton giggled.
"I saw your license, remember? You're an adult today, so you have no case!"
Shelby was at the counter cutting up an apple and washing grapes when he heard Dalton thunder down the stairs. It was going to be pleasant having the sound of a lively dude in his too-quiet house.
When he turned around, his eyes widened perceptibly. There was Dalton, dressed only in a red string bikini, filling it out nicely in all the right places.
"Damn!"
"You like?"
"Yeah, I like it too much. You'd better put on some pants before I get ideas and make a fool of myself. I'm not having sex with you young man."
"I'm the one who's making a fool of myself, I guess," Dalton said quietly. "I'm sorry if I displeased you, but I'd really thought you might want me."
"Son, how could any warm-blooded gay man not want you, but I'm five years older than you are."
"I know our age difference, but you said in one of your end-of-chapter comments that you had a former roommate who's married to a guy 17 years older and they're happy."
"Yeah, that's true. Chuck IS that much younger than Tom and they've been together six years and counting."
"So your roommate must have been about my age when they met."
"Pretty close; Chuck was a freshman at the university and moved in with Tom the next year. We all thought Tom was just his sugar daddy, but it did turn out to be genuine love."
"See!"
"Here, sit down and eat. We can argue better on a full stomach."
"Yes, Daddy, Sir."
"Dalton, I'm gonna have to teach you some manners."
"Oh please do. I need a strong hand sometimes."
"Dalton, please be serious! We can't jump right in bed on first meeting like in some of the stories on Nifty. We don't even know each other."
"Yes we do. We've talked by email every week for the past two years, sometimes a lot more. Couldn't you tell that `Sam' was in love with you? At times you seemed close to telling him - me, that my love was returned."
"I've felt kinda guilty about how much I cared for `Sam' and I admit I'm feeling really confused right now."
"Look Shelby, please forgive me for throwing myself at you. I should have known that you probably don't want to mess around with a dumb kid. I promise I'll be good. Could I at least sleep with you tonight? I'll put on a pair of boxers instead of this naughty underwear and I promise not to do anything sexual. It's my birthday and just need to feel like someone cares."
"I do care! Put on a shirt and some jeans. We're going to Perkins and buy a birthday cake. I didn't even think! I'm sorry. We're gonna celebrate this important milestone in your life."
"You don't have to do that, and the fruit will go to waste."
"Yeah, I do. I'm sorry I talked down to you, calling you `son' and all. You're an adult and you deserve my respect. I'll put the grapes in the fridge and we can chew on the apple pieces on the way."
"Thanks! I'll go get dressed, and I'll try to act like I'm more mature."