Author's note:

Here's the eighth part of the story. Hope you enjoy it.

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Choosing a Stepfather

by “Brad Gillespie” and “Tucson Daddy”

Chapter 8:

Jeff — Part 2

Arriving home, he parked the car and entered the house. Connie greeted him very warmly, kissing him deeply. Things were going to get hot shortly. His recent visit with Steve left him less than horny,but he'd build up to it later. Handing him a glass of wine, she led him to the couch, where they sat down together. Connie placed her feet under herself and rested her arm on his shoulder. “So wife-like,” he thought, smiling. Connie let him tell of his first day back at classes, then told him about her job interviews. “I really liked Susan,” she gushed. “Interviewing with her was more like talking to a sister than someone who might be my boss.”

“I hope you get the job then,” said Bob.

“Oh, and I got you an appointment with my friend, George, a therapist and old friend.”

He blinked, surprised. “What for?” he asked.

Connie looked concerned. “You were thrashing about again last night. You never did that before we were married. I think the pressure of a new married life, the heavy load of classes you'll be taking. Just someone to talk about things in confidence to and I won't nag you about,” she said, then smiled. “I love you too much to want this midnight dancing to continue. Not good for either of our mental healths.”

“I'm so sorry, honey,” he said sincerely. “Isn't it overreaction to think I'm in need of therapy?”

“I checked your class schedule. You have a slack day on Thursday, so you're seeing him then at 2 PM.”

He was silent, thinking, “A therapist. Sounded creepy. Like he was going nuts. He really didn't need this, but it wasn't worth an argument. Just see the guy, talk for awhile, and leave. Nothing more.” Then he said to her, “OK. I'll see George, whatever it takes to make you happy.”

Relief washed over her face. “Thank you.” Laying her head on his shoulder, she sighed and said, “Honey, everything is so good. This year is going to be just great.”

Bob's law classes were both interesting and challenging. The professors would raise legal questions that seemed on the surface to have a straightforward answer. Yet when the class debated it, the conclusion showed that law is very complex and they had much to learn. He was deeply into his books and study groups.

Not only because of his classes, but his job. He was tentatively considering leaving it. The pay wasn't so great, but it was fun to work with customers in solving their problems.

Then there was Jeff. He still had the card Jeff's father had left at the shop; the one with his number on it. He reached idly into his pocket to pull it out again and re-read the number. He decided this really wasn't what he wanted to get involved in. Wadding it up, he was about to send it flying into the trash can in the study room. Still he hesitated, wondering, his innate curiosity raised its head, and an urge came over him. What did he have to lose? He could always walk away from the situation, if it wasn't what he wanted. “Why not?” he asked himself, but self wasn't good with answers. Instead he dialed. When it rang for the sixth time with no machine pick up, he was ready to hang up.

“Hello, Ryan speaking,” said a strong masculine voice.

“Hello,” he said. “This is Bob from the computer shop. Am I speaking with Jeff's dad?”

“Oh, yes. Of course. I'd almost given up that you would call,” he said. “I'm relieved to hear your voice.”

“They told me you wanted to talk with me. What is it about?” he asked.

“It's about Jeff. He's been working on his project and having some difficulty. You're not at the shop any more so…”

“Perhaps a misunderstanding,” said Bob interrupting. “I'm not working as many hours since classes began.”

“I see. He was very disappointed. I'll let him know.”

“I'll be in the shop in two days. He can come in then,” replied Bob.

“I wonder,” said Ryan, “Would it be possible to talk with you in person rather than by phone?”

Puzzled, Bob answered, “Yes, I suppose. When?”

“Would tomorrow be OK?”

Bob checked his schedule and saw a window of time. “Yes, how about 3 PM?”

“Could you come to my home?” Ryan asked.

“Sure. What's your address?”

Ryan gave him his home address, and they chatted a bit more before hanging up. Bob carefully jotted down the address and time. He was so busy, if he didn't make notes about everything, he'd surely forget something important. Then he continued home to be with his bride again.

Traffic was light this time of day, so he pulled into their garage 20 minutes later. Getting out of the car as the garage door lowered, he went through the door into the laundry room, then into the kitchen. He heard Connie talking on the phone. She sounded excited. Walking quietly to the door and peering around the corner. Connie was standing, holding her phone, and walking in a circle.

“Yes! Yes! Goodness yes.” She stopped to listen then began again. “Tomorrow at 9 AM? Yes. I'll be there. Oh, thank you, Susan. Thank you.” She hung up, held the phone to her chest, and grinned while repeating, “Yes, yes!” The smile on her face was priceless, as though she'd won the lottery.

Stepping back away from the door, he returned to open, then close, the door to the laundry room. He called out, “Hello!” The sound of running feet came to him and Connie appeared from around the corner, squealing in delight. “Honey! You'll never guess!” she all but shouted.

“OK, I'm guessing you won the lottery, based on your grin,” he laughed.

She threw herself into his arms. “I got the job!” She was bouncing up and down so hard he could barely keep his arms around her.

“That's wonderful. Is it the job where you interviewed with Susan, what's her name, uhm, Blair?”

“Yes. Susan herself called me. I'm to start…”

“Tomorrow at 9 AM,” he finished.

Her smile faded. “How did you know?” she asked, crestfallen that he already knew all about it.

“That's the time I have always been asked to show up. Welcome to the business world,” he told her. “Am I right?”

She began bouncing again. “Yes, tomorrow at 9 AM. I'll be in a real job with real responsibility. And I'm going to be the best employee they've ever had.”

“Her enthusiasm was amazing,” Bob was thinking. “One second she's down because she thinks I was stealing her thunder. A second later, she's back to her old self.”

“I guess that calls for a celebration then,” he said. She was clapping and going on, nearly delirious with satisfaction at having been chosen.

“Yes! Let's!” she said, rushing back into his arms.

“Where?” he made the mistake of asking.

“The Bamboo Club, a real nice place. Just right for us. Now that we'll have a real income…,” her eyes grew wide and she stopped talking. She put her hand over her mouth. “I mean, now that I'll have a salary. Not that you aren't taking good care of me.”

He hugged her, kissed her to calm and quiet her, then laughed and said, “Don't you worry. I know what you mean. Tripling our monthly income is a real salary. Not a part-time, low-paying job. I love you, honey.”

Pulling away from him, she went to the wine cabinet to pull out the most expensive bottle they had. “Let's have a celebration right now.” Heading to the kitchen cabinet where the bottle opener was kept, she pulled it out and commenced an attack on the bottle. He watched her doing this, for he loved seeing her in motion. She never jerked or yanked, but rather seemed to move with a fluidity. A minute later, the bottle was open and she was pouring wine into two large glasses.

“Hey, easy, woman,” he objected. “I want to be sober when we drive to the restaurant.”

She giggled and eased up. “You're right, honey. Is this the right amount?”

“Perfect,” he said, walking over the the counter to take one glass and raise his in a toast. They touched them together with a clink. “Good luck in your new life as a business lady,” he said.

“Thank you!” she replied.

Taking their wine to the living room, they sat down on the couch side-by-side. “I'm so happy for you. I know you liked the company, and Susan sounds like a good lady to work for.”

They continued chatting about the prospects of her new job and his day in class. Some time later, they drove over to the Bamboo Club, where they spent a happy hour dining on succulent food and good wine. In the past when Bob had brought a date here, his bank account felt the results. Usually such a show of opulence made a girl think kindly toward an intimate way to say thank you. Sometimes not. In Connie's case, it was out of love and the desire to act like real people with a real life that her income would allow.

When they arrived home, the night was still young, but the wine made Connie weary, so an early bedtime was for her. Bob contemplated, but only briefly, joining her in bed. She wasn't drunk, simply tired. Wine did that to her. The excitement of a new beginning, and being busy, helped. So Bob went into the living room to sit and read. The wine did have an effect, albeit delayed, so that he was soon dropping the book onto his lap. “OK, time for bed,” he told himself. Since Connie was sleeping, he quietly disrobed. Placing his pants neatly on a chair, he removed and hung up his shirt. In the bathroom, he brushed and flossed his teeth, then, yawning, he got into bed, turned out the light, and soon was very soundly asleep.

Then the dream began. He and Dave had just come into his bedroom. The house was quiet. As Dave kissed him and he kissed back, the door to his room flew open with a bang. His father was standing there — a grin on his face. But it wasn't a grin of happiness, rather one that a wolf might wear. “What the fuck you doin', boy?” Bob jerked away from Dave, in terror of his father. “Nothin', dad. I'm not doing anything!” His father stepped into the room, a belt in his hand. “You're a damned queer, aren't you!” he shouted.

“No! I'm not a… a… quee…” he started to say.

“Then what's your fag of a friend doing to you?”

Bob looked down horrified. Dave was sucking his cock.

The last thing he felt was the belt hitting him.

“Bob! Bob!” he felt hands shaking him awake. ''My God! Are you all right?”

“Huh? What?” he said, still feeling the sting of the belt across his butt.

“You were crying out and thrashing about,” said Connie, her eyes wide. “I am so worried about you.”

Bob's heart was pounding as he recalled his dream, now fading rapidly. A moment later, it was gone; only a vague feeling of panic remained.

When Connie tried to find out what his dream was about, he could honestly tell her he didn't know. She didn't believe him, thinking he was concealing the problem to keep her from worrying.

“Promise me you are going to keep that appointment with George on Thursday,” she begged.

No longer wanting to simply please Connie, Bob was really convinced he should visit George. Maybe find out what those dreams were about. “Honey, I do want to see him, I need to know why I'm having these night terrors. I promise.”

With that promise confirmed, Connie lay cuddled in Bob's arms, and gradually she drifted off to sleep again. Bob didn't. It was like he was in a quiz show with two doors to choose between. One would lead to a grand prize, while the other led to something unpleasant. He worried and wondered, but had a nagging feeling that something might be behind the second door. The one he was never able to open. Perhaps the Terror lurked there. Finally he did drift off to sleep, but not a pleasant one.

He woke early, in spite of his poor rest. Connie slept on, so he went to take a shower. When he came out, she was still asleep, although in a different position. Pulling on a robe, he went into the kitchen to make coffee.

He mentally took note of his schedule today, and thought about meeting with Jeff's dad, Ryan. What could be on his mind?

The coffee finished perking, and he poured some into a cup. Walking into the living room, he turned on the TV to watch the news, but he didn't watch much. “Why do people think of this as useful news? It's all about hype and spin.” He turned off the set, and was about to return to the kitchen to find some cereal for breakfast, when he heard the bedroom door open and Connie appeared.

“Good morning, honey,” he greeted her.

“Hi, babe,” she said, walking to him and putting her arms around him. “Sleep well?”

“Not well,” he answered.

“Me neither.”

“Tomorrow I see George. Maybe I'll get to the bottom of this.”

“And today I begin my job!” she said, perking up.

Bob took a cup off the rack, poured coffee into it, then handed it to her.

“Thanks, honey.” She gave him a perfunctory kiss.

The digital clock showed 6:23. “What are you eating for breakfast?”

“Dry cereal. Want some?”

“Get me a bowl too, would you? I'll bring the cereal and milk.” They met a moment later at the table, and sat down. Connie poured dry flakes into her bowl and splashed milk on them. Bob was cutting up a banana into his.

“Want some?” She slid her bowl to him where he cut up the rest of the banana, dropping the slices into it. They ate in silence, each with their own thoughts. His bowl empty, he took it to the sink, where he rinsed it out, then put it into the dishwasher. “I'm going to study. My first class isn't till 10.”

Connie finished her cereal and drank the rest of the milk straight from the bowl. Using a spoon for that would take too long. After placing hers in the dishwasher, she went off to the bedroom to get ready. In the shower, rubbing body wash over herself, she wished Bob were with her. Is this the way the next three years would be? Nearly separate lives? She lightly touched her nipples, feeling them stiffen. “Mmm…,” she fantasized that her fingers were Bob's. She felt arousal, and dropped one hand between her legs, parting the lips, and slipped two fingers in, slowly massaging her clit. Her passion rose, and her fingers stroked over and over until, with a gasp, she came, stepping back to rest against the shower wall. She recovered after a moment, rinsed off, and got out to towel dry.

She came out with the towel around her hair and sat to do her makeup. Amazing what a little color appropriately placed can do for a woman's appearance! Then came her panties, bra, and hose, followed by her superstructure of blouse, skirt and shoes. Selecting a few pieces of subdued jewelry, similar to those she'd noticed Susan wearing, she was ready to go. It was only an hour before she had to be there. The room where Bob was studying was quiet. Checking on him, she smiled. Poor baby, he had fallen asleep on his text. “He'll wake up in plenty of time,” she thought, leaving him as she found him.

When Bob awoke, it was 9:10. Connie had gone, and he needed to get dressed. College is anything but formal. Since the weather was decently warm, he chose shorts and a t-shirt, and the California look of wearing sneakers without socks. Loading his notebooks into his briefcase, he was off. The drive to campus was only 15 minutes. He'd walk it if he had more time.

The classes went fast. It was the kind of atmosphere Bob liked. Legal thinking about past judgments was just the thing he thrived on. By 2, he was done and headed toward the parking area. Finding his car, he got in and drove off. The address Ryan had given him was in a part of town he was unfamiliar with, one of the nicer neighborhoods. Finding the street was easy, and he drove slowly along until he found the house number. Turning into the drive, he parked next to a silver Lexus, got out, and went to the door.

It was answered by a man dressed as casually as he. “Come in, Bob. I'm Ryan. Glad we could get together like this. Would you like something to drink?”

“Thank you. Water with ice would be fine.” He accompanied Ryan into the kitchen, where he selected two glasses and filled them both with water from his purifier. As Bob stood there, he glanced out the window at the pool, to see Jeff and another boy his own age. They were naked! Two 13-year-olds, bronzed by the sun, with blond hair. Beautiful smooth bodies, exactly proportioned. The picture of boy perfection.

Bob's mouth went dry as he stared at this lovely scene.

Ryan came up next to him and stared at them too. He put his hand on Bob's shoulder and said in a low husky voice, “Pretty things, aren't they?” It wasn't a question.

“Yes,” Bob said with a quiver in his voice. The sight of these two young beauties was having an extraordinary effect on him.

“Wouldn't you like to go out there, and run your hand over Jeff's back?”

“Uh huh,” said Bob.

“And how about running your hand down that smooth back with such soft skin?”

“Oh yeah,” Bob answered.

“And that lovely bottom!”

Bob could barely get the words out, “Oh, that too!”

“Imagine being alone with Jeff, just as he is, naked. You'd like that, wouldn't you?”

“More than anything,” Bob heard himself saying.

“It could happen, but it's up to you.”

The boys suddenly ran off, out of sight. Bob closed his eyes, the memory of them standing on the pool deck only, what, eight feet away from him, was as clear and real as though they were still there. He turned to Ryan, “What do you mean? It could happen? How is it up to me?”

“Here's your water,” Ryan said, handing it to him.

“Thanks,” replied Bob, taking the water.

“Let's go to the other room. It's more comfortable than standing.” Bob followed him into the living room, where he sat on the couch, while Ryan took the chair to the left.

“You've got quite a bulge there,” observed Ryan. “You liked what you saw.”

“I'll admit that I like to see boys, naked boys, that's all,” said Bob. “You were saying I could, ah… do all that. It's up to me. Please explain.”

“I'll be blunt, Jeff believes he is gay.”

“Ryan, let's just stop right here!” Bob said, holding up his hand. “Two things: What makes you think I'm gay? And how can he know that he's gay?”

“What makes me think you are was by your response back there, in the kitchen.” He tilted his head in that direction. “You were all but drooling, as you watched those naked boys.”

“I'm not gay. I'm married and love my wife, not to mention most other women I see,” he explained, a lop-sided grin on his face. “I'm bisexual.”

“Same-o, same-o,” parried Ryan.

“How can he, at 13, know he's gay? At his age, he should be thinking about what he wants to be when he grows up, not choosing his sexual orientation.”

“Sure,” said Ryan, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. “You sound like some lawyer.”

“Thanks, I am in law school. But go on.”

“OK, Mr. Lawyer, for one, he's never expressed an interest in girls. Puberty is hitting most boys by age 12; not my son.”

“Well, puberty depends on lots of things.”

“I was shooting cum when I was 11, and my friends were all over the moon about girls. Sheri this and Myra that. Tit size and whether they had a nice butt. All I wanted to do was see boy cocks when I showered after P. E.”

“Yeah,” said Bob, “There's lots of that going around.”

“And another thing. I want my son safe. So I snoop. I look around his room, checking all the places I used to hide my pot when I was his age. The only thing I found of any interest was a magazine of gay men. You know, with pictures of them kissing, sucking cocks, and fucking.”

Bob was nodding his head. The evidence was piling up.

“Finally, I checked his history file. Went out to a few of the sites. All gay! So what do you think now?”

“Queer as can be,” confirmed Bob.

“Yeah,” grinned Ryan. “Definitely queer.”

“So what do you want me to do?”

“Don't know, maybe you can talk some sense to him. He's played with one other boy in the neighborhood. Now this one, you saw him by the pool. That's the extent of his gay sexual experiences. He knows what's out there.”

“As his father, I want to keep him safe. From predators, you know. If Jeff is determined to walk the gay path, he needs a strong man in his life who can help him. Be a big brother to teach him.”

“Ryan, you're his father, aren't you?” Bob asked.

He nodded.

“Then why can't you?”

“Because I am his father. It would be wrong for me to help him know the gay world the way he wants.”

“You mean this big brother would have sex with him?” asked Bob incredulously.

“Of course! You'd be perfect, Bob. He likes you. Likes you a lot. He respects you because you're on his technical level. Not like me, who he sees as just another dumb adult like his science teachers. You've shown him some real attention. A few of the right words, and he'll be yours. Based on your reaction when you saw him naked, you'd like what he has to offer a man like you.”

“What's the catch?”

“Catch? There is none. You promise to take care of my son, help him to know and understand that, sure, sex is fun and exciting, but there are men out there who want to take advantage of him. Maybe even hurt him. Explain that unless he knows a man as well as he knows you, he stays away from him.”

“I go to law school. Not a lot of time to explain much to Jeff.”

“Yes, I know. But you only need to spend a few hours a week with him. Encourage him to find new partners of his own age.”

“I'm at the shop tomorrow. Have him come by so I can talk to him face-to-face.”

“Thank you.”

“Who is the other boy?”

“My brother's son, Kyle. I'm doing for him what I would like you to do for Jeff.”

After that exchange, they shook hands and he was outside in his car, having concluded one of the oddest contracts in the world. He was going to spend some intimate time with a hot young teen. Life just seemed to be getting better and better. He drove home with a sense of elation. But on the down side, he needed to get those reading assignments done. Plus he had a group tonight.