Mama was a Preacher Chapter Six Onward Christian Soldiers Copyright 1996 AUTHOR22@aol.com All rights reserved. The week after the song-fest was spent organizing, organizing everything. Incoming mail had been heavy. The new format presenting, as separate broadcasts, both Mama's and Ray's sermons had more than doubled the response. A week had gone by before Harry and Steven had time to listen to the tapes from the fest. At first, they were just monitoring the entire series of tapes; 14 in all. As they did so, they kept getting drawn back into the recordings. It was difficult to break away, to do other things. When they got to the part we wanted to use for the album, they couldn't believe what they were experiencing. According to Harry it was just like being there. The energy, the power, the "feeling" were all there. The boys recognized that their listening to the album was couched in a setting of the entire series of tapes, the entire song-fest. The album, by it's self might not be as powerful. Ray wanted everyone to be present for the first playback of the album, as an album. Since the Wisers were busy running KLRA until midnight, our conference was set for one o'clock in the morning. Chairs were moved into the larger of the two studios. Steven was at the control board. Ray was seated in the center, flanked by Mama and Ruth. Peter, Jackie, Jerry, and me were sitting in the second row. We were all tired. The day had been a taxing one, starting at 6 AM. Now it was past one. I slouched in my chair, leaned back and closed my eyes. Steven rolled the tape. The frilly sounds of Jackie's intro to "Beautiful Isle of Somewhere," were relaxing, and quite beautiful. Peter's voice merged with the frill, then continued to dominance. The chorus was perfect. Harry had done a beautiful job of balancing the microphones as the congregation contributed to the performance. "All Things Bright and Beautiful", followed. Even though we had done it a hundred times before, it was exciting. And there was something else. You could feel the power start to build. I sat up in my chair. The "thing" was there. No question about it, I could feel it in my bones. It had been captured on tape. The number closed. You could hear the audience in the background. Then there was silence, about five seconds of silence. A startling note drove into your brain. I could see myself as I had jumped from the platform in that final number. The entire scene, from the leap off of the stage to that explosive touch of Mary-Lou paraded through my mind as my memory guided my thoughts, repeating that mercuric event. Was it just me? Did it hit me this hard because I had been part of it? I glanced at Jerry. His face was flushed. Jackie was grinning from ear to ear. No doubt about it, everyone in the room had been touched by the album. No, not touched, had been hammered over head, and pushed to the edge of reality, then dragged down the road to fulfillment. Ray gasped. "That is the most powerful recording I have ever heard." No one could believe the effect it had on them. "Steven, the first thing tomorrow morning I want you and Harry to make 36 copies of that. I want that aired on all of our stations next Sunday night in place of my sermon." He looked at mama. "Sister, why don't you and I work on a sermon to follow that recording. Oh thank you Jesus! Thank you, thank you, thank you." ------------------ As the month of August approached, the subject of school in California had resurfaced. The distribution of the transcriptions had been delayed, due to a shortage of fresh disks. Jerry wanted to visit Crabtree before leaving for school, and had written a letter to his mother. He had received two letters. Both addressed to him care of the ministry. One was from his mother the other from his brother Todd. He and I were alone sitting on our bed. He opened the one from his mother and read it aloud. "Dear Son: We have been listening to you and Johnny on the radio, and are very proud of you. The news about your going to that expensive school in California is just wonderful. Things have not been going smoothly here. Todd and papa got into an argument, so Todd is now living down in Clinton. Other than that it's just the same old routine. Even though I miss you terribly, I don't think now is the time for you to come for a visit. The whole family sends its love, especially papa and Marjory. Love, Ma." He opened the letter from Todd and read it to me. "Hey little brother, how are things going with the rich and famous? You are quite the talk of the town. Almost every day you hear someone talk about you and Johnny. Mom probably wrote to you that I moved into Clinton, but I doubt if she told you I had moved in with Patsy. She still works at the Blue Bell Cafe. And she wont shut up about how good of a fuck you were. And, little brother, that has caused a major scandal here and in Crabtree. The story got out about my birthday present to you. It got back to Pa and he blew a fuse. So I'd suggest you skip coming home till next summer. In the meantime maybe I can save enough money to come visit you in Los Angeles. Love ... and I miss you, you little fucker. Todd." "I can't make a move without steppin in shit." His eager smile as he had began to read the first letter had been replaced with a look of sadness. I could see tears starting to form in his eyes. I jumped up off the bed, pushed him down, jumped on top of him. Holding him under me I began kissing him. "Fuck the whole world. I love you, and you love me. We don't need any one else, we've got each other." His arms went around me, hugging me tightly against his body. I began kissing away the tears that were now a torrent flowing down his cheeks. A smile began to form as his wet eyes met mine. "Don't ever leave me Johnny. I don't think I could stand to live without you." --------------- Monday, the 17th of August was suddenly on the calendar. The day of departure had come. Jackie had instructions to find a manufacturer for the recordings. It was high on his list of things to do. We packed all of our clothes and possessions into the Rumble seat of the Model "A". Kissed everyone good bye, lied about writing every day, and headed west. Our route took us through Fort Smith. We couldn't resist the temptation to make a stop at KWHN. In the intervening years the station had changed management. Nickdemon still owned the station, but there had been four program directors since Howard Harvey. It was early evening when we passed through Oklahoma City. We passed a bill board touting the pleasures of "The Sands Motel" in Broken Arrow. The picture of the swimming pool was enticing. The Sands also had a AAA rated Restaurant. Jackie checked us in as Jerry and I investigate the pool. The cool water was inviting. However, we had not eaten since we left Little Rock. Food won out in the battle of "Whats' next?" The restaurant was a disappointment. The service was terrible, the food was cold, the brown gravy had a skin on it. We were no longer hungry when we left the establishment, so it had served its purpose. Jerry pointed out a "Waffle House" restaurant down the street. We'd have breakfast there before departing for Albuquerque. This was the first night the three of us had ever been by ourselves. I could feel the love that we shared for each other. It was like a warm breeze on a cool night. It was not demanding. It was not lustful. It was the out and out pleasure of being in the company of someone about whom you really cared. Jackie still kept extra swimming trunks in the back of the Ford. I must have grown a lot since that first night at the motel in Little Rock. Those same trunks were as tight as a drum. You could see my cock as it laid vertically pointing toward my naval. I was bending over trying to tuck my scrotum inside of the leg opening, when I was shoved from behind and landed face down on the bed. Jerry turned me over and sat on my chest, nibbling at my lips. Jackie had lifted my legs and tugged the shorts to my ankles. My rod had been instant. He bent over and enveloped my head with a slurping sound. Moments later his face was next to ours. We didn't kiss, but we did share each others breath. We didn't fondle, but we shared each other perspiration. "Ok you guys, I'm going to the car and bring in all the trunks I've got. Can't have you running around in public buck naked." He started toward the door. "I'll be back in just a second so don't start something you can't finish." The door closed behind him. "Ain't love grand?" "So Jerry, who do you love the most, me or Jackie." His look was sly. "If you have to ask then I love him more." "Fucker. You made me promise that I would never leave you, and I won't. But there is room in my heart for Jackie." "Yeah I know. Me too. But it isn't the same. He's more like a good buddy that shares my every secret. But you. You are my reason for getting up in the morning. You are my reason for taking my next breath." He had moved from sitting on my chest to laying full length on my body. I could feel the pulse of his hard cock. I could feel every muscle in his body. As with that first night under the platform, my finger tips explored, and saw parts of his body hidden from my view. The world could not get any better than it was right then. Jackie came back with two pairs of trunks that were so large that my dick was falling out of the legs. Jerry's weren't much better. "You guys gotta wear your Jockey shorts under there. We need to get you some decent swim wear before we get to California. For more than an hour we attacked each other under water. Our tag playing and wrestling became too personal, too intimate. Each of us knew it, yet we could not restrain ourselves. It was too easy to caress bottoms, grope crotches, let lips press against the others; all in the name of sport. Our playing was too close to how we really felt, too close to what we wanted to accomplish in the privacy of our room. We didn't need the facade of play. Total privacy was just a few feet away. We retired to our room, and flung our wet clothing into the shower, simultaneously landing in each others arms on the bed. Jackie had gained the middle position, laying on his back. Jerry was on his right, head on his shoulder. I was on the left. Jerry's eyes met mine; our souls linked in an almost audible thump. Jackie's arms were around our shoulders, holding us close. He turned and kissed Jerry's ear, then mine. The next morning Jerry was sitting on my chest. "Come on. I'm hungry, let's get some food." Jackie stirred. His eye lids fluttered open. "What time is it?" "I don't know. But I'm hungry." Jackie's dick was at full attention. I motioned for Jerry to play with his balls, while I grasped his shaft with both hands. "Don't start something you can't finish." I laughed. "Ha! This shouldn't take more than 30 seconds." And it didn't. Breakfast at the Waffle House was great. We devoured every crumb of food they put on our plate. We were on the road by seven-thirty. We continued westward. Jackie had mentioned the Carlsbad Caverns in New Mexico. Visiting it would be about 300 miles out of our way, so we abandoned the idea in favor of a stop off in Las Vegas The highway across Oklahoma, and Texas is mostly desert. We drove all day stopping only for gas and a couple of sandwiches. The five hundred miles took more than 14 hours. The Model "A" was not built for speed. We checked into a tiny motel on the west side of Albuquerque at 10 o'clock. The manager had just turned on the "No Vacancy" sign as we entered her office. She had only one room. It had only one bed; a double. Jackie said "Guess it will have to do." We showered, taking turns washing each others back. We were too tired for anything but sleep. We were practically on top of each other. Sleep was almost instant. The next morning I woke with Jerry wrapped around me. Jackie was asleep on the floor. I pinched Jerry's nose closed so he would have to breath through his mouth. As it opened I stuck my tongue in, putting my fingers at the sides of his jaw so he could not close his mouth. My lips closed around his, as my lungs pumped air into his. My attack startled him into consciousness. Defensively he pushed my head away, then sunk his teeth into my neck, sucking heavily, sucking long enough to leave a mouth shaped bruise high on the side of my neck. He had branded me as his property. No rustling allowed. We had skipped dinner. We found a pancake house west of the city. All you can eat for $2.95. We wiped them out. Las Vegas was our destination for tonight. It was more than 500 miles away; 400 of it westward, and 100 north. The land was not flat; there were mountains to be crossed. It would be another long, hard drive. We didn't make it, and settled for another small motel in Kingman Arizona, a hundred miles short. We were on the road again by six, and in the outskirts of Las Vegas by nine. Las Vegas was not the magnificent sprawling resort area that it is today. The Flamingo Hotel was under construction several miles from the city. All of the action was within a few square blocks centering on Fremont Street. As we drove down the main street we were amazed at the gaudiness of the town. Bright Marquee's resembling those on movie theaters advertised that every thing was FREE. People were walking down the streets with bottles of beer in their hands. Gamblers were huddled around Crap tables that bordered the side walk. A continuous clanging cacophony of the sounds of coins being disgorged by slot machines blanketed all other sounds. Our heads were stuck out the windows trying to see all that there was to see. Jerry pointed to a building ahead and to the right. "Look, there's a Hotel." A huge neon sign proclaimed it to be the California Hotel. Jackie turned right on to a side street, paralleling the hotel. A ramp led into the building. Another sign said, "Free Parking." The front desk was hidden in a forest of One Arm Bandits. A husky woman was standing behind the counter filing her finger nails, a bored expression upon her face. She looked up when Jackie asked, "Have any vacancies?" The bored expression evaporated. "Nothin but, honey. Whatcha' want." "Whatcha' got?" "For you baby, more than you could handle." She cut the laugh, back to business. "Room is Twelve-Fifty. Just you and the kids?" He nodded. My attention was drawn to the action at the card tables, but the conversation at the desk didn't escape me any more than it did Jerry. Jackie was filling out the registration form. The woman continued her charade, "For Twelve-Fifty, you otta ditch the kiddies, and get a room of your own." There was no bell boy. It was just as well, as we had no luggage. Jackie asked about a place to eat. The desk clerk handed him a stack of brochures advertising great places, great food, all you can eat. Buffets that could feed an army, yet cost under $3.00. Our room key said we were on the 6th floor. Only one of the two elevators was working, and it seemed to take for ever. Eventually it arrived disgorging a middle aged cowboy; tall, thin, wearing a western hat and pointed toe black boots. He was puffing a cigar. A trail of compressed cigar smoke followed his exit. The room had two double beds, a good sized shower, and another sign offering to double the value of your first bet on roulette. Air conditioning made the room comfortable while outside the temperature was in the low one hundreds. A second placard said that if we stopped by the promotion center we would be given a book of free coupons, and a free coffee cup bearing the "California Hotel" insignia. We stopped at the front desk and asked where the promotion center was. The same woman pointed around the corner. The promotion center, while hidden from the front desk, was an extension of it. Our desk clerk now became the promotion clerk, giving Jackie three mugs and three books of coupons. The top coupon in the book was a two for one at their buffet. Lighted signs hung from the ceiling pointing the viewer to everything except the exit. The buffet was on the second floor. There were ten people ahead of us waiting for the buffet to open. It was 10:30, it opened at 11:00. The line was on a balcony overlooking the players on the first floor. There was a mixture of boredom and excitement coming from below as we looked down on people playing Black Jack, Craps, and Roulette. All of the Black Jack players looked bored, and that included the dealer. There was a lot of excitement coming from the Crap table. The players eagerly mouthed sentiments like "Bring Home the Bacon", "New Shoes for Baby", and "Seven come eleven". The dealers loudly proclaimed a winner, barely taking note of those who lost. At the roulette table the excitement came in waves. You could feel the tension building when the ball was spinning in the wheel, then climax as the ball fell towards the center bouncing around before finally coming to rest. A bored expression soon replaced the one of interest while the dealer fiddled with the stacks of chips, and evened everything up like he was preparing for a inspection. Jerry asked Jackie to explain how the games worked. The Black Jack had something to do with getting as close to 21 points as you could. His explanation of Craps was too complicated to follow. I had the impression that he really didn't know either. Roulette was easy to understand. 36 Numbers, with bets which paid off 36 to one. Also groups of numbers, Red and Black, and Even and Odd. They paid off evenly. Then another group where the numbers were divided in groups of twelve: one through twelve, thirteen through twenty four, and twenty five through thirty six. Each of those paid off two to one. I remarked, "One-Two-Three," referring to Jackie's theory of "the thing". The food line finally started moving. The check for the three of us was just six dollars plus the coupon. There was lots and lots of food. Fresh and canned fruit, all chilled and resting on a bed of ice. At least a half dozen kinds of salad were displayed. A sign said "Help your self to as much as you can eat, but eat all you take." Below that in red letters it said, "No take outs". On a different counter were all kinds of hot foods: Pork Chops, Fish, Roast Beef, Roast Turkey, Spaghetti, Stir Fry, and Swiss Steak. I had loaded my platter with the fruit and salad. There was a separate section that had help yourself drinks: Coca Cola, Root Beer, Seven-Up, Coffee, Tea, and Milk. Jerry and I each had six plates of food. Jackie had only three. Then there was desert. Pies: apple, peach, apricot, cherry, banana cream, chocolate, and coconut. I had never seen so much food in one place. It made the pot luck dinners at the revival meetings look skimpy. We were so stuffed, that we could hardly move. Even walking down the stairs to the first floor was uncomfortable. An excitement gripped me as we walked past the tables. We paused for a moment at the Roulette wheel. "Jackie, put a buck on the Red." He pulled out one of the coupon books, extracted the double the bet coupon, and laid it together with a dollar bill on red. The dealer spun the wheel. I could feel an unknown tension grasping at my stomach. The whirling sound of the ball, shifted to a plunking, bouncing sound. It looked like it was going to settle into 1 Black. Then ricocheted into a Red pocket on the other side of the wheel. The dealer replaced the Bill and Coupon with 4 Chips. Jackie pulled out the second book and tore out the double your bet coupon. A large man wearing a gold badge tapped Jackie on the shoulder. "No one under 21 is allowed at the tables." He was gazing in our direction. Jackie stuffed the chips and the coupon into his pocket, and we exited the hotel. All along the street there was nothing but open doors and gambling tables or slot machines. It was exciting. Jerry suggested that we go back to the California and use the other two coupons. He and I would go to the balcony where we had waited in line for the buffet. It was decided that what ever simultaneously flashed into our minds would be the bet. We would signal Black by scratching our noses, Red by scratching the left ear, Even would be hand in the left pocket. Odd would be hand in the right pocket. If the signals were different, then we'd skip the bet. Jackie looked up as we leaned over the railing. The dealer was stacking chips. I put my hand in my right pocket. Jerry was scratching his nose. The wheel spun, the ball bounced. It landed in Green 00. I scratched my left ear, Jerry scratched his balls. Jackie shrugged his shoulders and left the table to join us on the balcony. We added two more signals. Number of extended fingers on the right hand would signal first twelve, second twelve, or third twelve. He returned to the table. This time both Jerry and I had our hands in our right pockets. Jackie must have agreed as he placed all four chips and a double the bet coupon on Odd. The dealer was taking his time, stacking chips. Finally, he spun the wheel, added the ball. We could hear the ball clattering towards a final destination even up on the balcony. I squeezed Jerry's hand in anticipation. Again the ball bounced. Seven was the number. Odd. We won. The dealer scooped off the bets from the loosing spots, then began laying out chips in payment for the ones still on the board. We now had 16 bucks. "Let's go for one of the 3 twelves," I whispered to Jerry. We both extended two fingers. Jackie laid the 16 chips on the space labeled 13 thru 24. I could feel my heart pound as the ball bounced around the wheel. It landed on 8, and bounced across to 14. We now had 48 dollars. He reached into his pocket, extracted the last double your bet coupon, waved it in our direction. Simultaneously we extended three fingers. The bet was laid, the wheel spun, my hand was squeezing Jerry's in hopeful anticipation. The ball settled into 32. I couldn't believe my eyes. "Let's go for a single number." Jerry nodded his head in agreement. "You take a number, and then I'll take one. We'll add them together and that will be it OK?" "Three!" Jerry said "Four." We both extended seven fingers. Jackie look puzzled. We pointed toward the center of the board. He pointed at the seven space. We shook our heads "Yes." This time the dealer took forever to get his work space in order. Then the pit boss started talking to him. All the while we were busy multiplying the bet by 36. We had two hundred and eighty eight dollars riding on seven. Jerry said, "What are we going to do with morn' a thousand dollars?" I said something about his arithmetic wasn't very good. We started to debate what the payoff would be. The wheel finally spun, some one had moved in front of the wheel, we couldn't see what was happening. Suddenly there was a yelp from below that could have been heard all the way to Little Rock. It sounded like Jackie, but we couldn't see what was happening. Finally that someone moved and we could see. The dealer was laying stacks and stacks of chips in front of him. But they were strange looking chips. They appeared to be red, with gold and silver stripes on them. Someone handed Jackie a bucket to put his chips in. The bucket was full, and he was now stuffing the chips into his pockets. Another coin bucket was put on the table, and the rest of the chips disappeared into it. He moved from the table toward the cashiers cage. There were six people in front of him. The time seemed to stretch out into eternity. Finally he placed the two buckets on the counter, and began unloading the chips from his pockets. We could see the girl count out ten bills, pause, count out three more from a different drawer, three more from still another drawer, and finally four more. "See I was right. Morn'a thousand dollars. Those first ten bills must have been hundreds." We scurried down from the balcony, and met Jackie at the elevator. "How much?" Jerry asked his voice laced with exhilaration. Jackie put his fingers to his lips, "Shush. We'll talk about it in the room." Now it was the elevator that seemed to take forever. We were in the room. The door was closed. Jackie laid our winnings on the bed. Well, let me tell you a secret. If you are a 15 year old youngster from the hills of Arkansas, and have never seen a thousand dollar bill, those extra zeros are mind-boggling. "Ten thousand three hundred and sixty eight dollars." Jerry was practically screaming in joy. "That's morn' three thousand each. Whatever are we a gonna do with that much money." Jackie handed each of us three one thousand dollars bills, and a one hundred. We both passed the larger bills back to him asking that he keep it till we needed it for something important. Looking back, it seems odd that we were content with the money, that we didn't want to go back to the tables to become rich. Providence had stepped in allowing us to keep our winnings. The excitement of being a winner had passed. Again we left the hotel, walking westward on Fremont Street. There didn't seem to be much else to do other than gamble and eat. We had over indulged in both. The walk was pleasant, but short. The sun had begun to set, the air was no longer in the lower one hundreds. A comforting feeling of well being had replaced the gnawing feeling of a full heart. Jerry left us for a few minutes; he had seen something in a shop that struck his fancy. He had more than a hundred dollars in his pocket. More money than he ever had possessed in his life. He returned, and pushed himself between us. His arms flopped across our shoulders, "So what do you think?" The smell of new clothing filled my nostrils. I looked at him. He was wearing tight western Levi's, a brilliant blue satin cowboy shirt, and black riding boots. My eyes had started at his feet and moved upward, finally climbing to the top of his head which was framed in the most handsome cowboy hat that I had ever seen. My heart leapt in joy. The only thing that I wanted to do was drag him into our room, take all of those clothes from that beautiful body, and show him just how much I loved him. And that is exactly what I did. Jackie had left us alone. We were stilling laying nakedly side by side, our passions having been exorcised. He moved down toward his new Levis, my foot caught them first and kicked them beyond his reach. "I wasn't gonna put them on. I got somethn' for you." He walked over to his pants, and pulled something from one of the pockets. Tossed the pants far from the bed, and laid on top of me. His eyes looked deeply into mine. His lips were brushing mine as he spoke. "Johnny," he paused. His lips took a purchase on mine. His soul was in that kiss. I could feel the pace of his heart increase. His taste was sweet and tasty. "Johnny, I love the hell out of you." He sat up, resting on my stomach, his limp dick resting in my belly button. He was holding a small package wrapped in white paper. He unfolded it. "This is for you. And you ain't never to take it off." It was a small gold cross. In the center was a tiny red stone, with what appeared to be diamonds at each of the four ends. "Raise your head." I did as I was told and he fastened the gold chain around my neck. I reached up putting my hands behind his neck pulling him back down so that our lips were again touching. "So do you like the new outfit?" "Yeah, but I like you better in the one you've got on." I kissed his bare shoulder, hugging him tightly to my chest. ---------------- That night we splurged. Jackie had found a restaurant that specialized in lobster, and we took a taxi. The maitre d' escorted us to a dimly lit table in a back corner of the room. A waiter appeared shortly asking what we would like to drink. We declined drinks. He left leaving us with a menu. I noticed the lobster was priced by the ounce. The waiter spoke with an accent that Jackie said ws French. Jackie insisted that we each have a Maine lobster. The waiter returned, the lobster and Champagne were ordered. The waiter started to say something about the champagne, but Jackie put a ten dollar bill on his tray, and the waiter said "Yes, sir. A bottle of our best." Chateau Rothschild Grand Premier Cru 1944. He returned carrying a silver bucket containing crushed ice and a bottle with a red and gold label. An strangely-shaped stemmed glass was placed at each setting. The waiter withdrew the bottle displaying the label to each of us. Jackie shook his head apparently agreeing that this is what we ordered. A cork was secured in a gold colored metallic foil, and further locked into position by a wire binding. He untwisted the wire and removed it. He then draped the bottle in a white linen napkin, grasped the hidden cork, and turned it. A loud pop followed. At the same time the cork seemed to bounce upward into the napkin. With a deft turn of his hand the top of the bottle was exposed. He leaned forward and poured a small amount of the liquid into Jackie's glass. You could see a stream of tiny bubbles rise upward from the bottom of the glass. Jackie moved the glass to his lips, tasted it, and remarked "Very good." The waiter then filled the other two glasses before adding more to the first glass. Another waiter arrived pushing a cart. He made a salad within our view. The lettuce was tossed, tomatoes were added, along with cheese, and an oil and vinegar dressing. The taste of the salad changed the taste of the champagne which at first had been a little sour. It now tasted neither sour or sweet, just tingly. The first waiter returned and tied bibs around our necks. "To protect the young gentlemen." The salad cart had been replaced with another holding three bowls of melted butter, 3 silver nut crackers, and 3 plates hidden beneath silver covers. The three nut crackers were laid along side of our knifes, the bowls of butter were placed to the back of the salad plates. Then with a flare the three salad plates were replaced by the platters which had been hidden under the silver covers; the boiled Maine Lobster. Jackie had picked up one of the nut crackers applying it to a shell covered claw. He squeezed it slightly, and the armor popped open. We followed suite with the same results. Using a little fork I extracted a piece of the white meat. It looked tender, but small. The smell was different and enticing. Following Jackie's lead I dipped the Lobster into the butter, then placed it in my mouth. It was delicious. The satiny taste of the butter drew my attention to the bubbly champagne. The wine cut through the satiny feeling in my mouth complementing the flavor of the butter and meat. The two went together like lovers destined for eternity. My senses were satiated. My heart was full. My taste buds teased to the point of saturation. My being was totally immersed in pleasure. Each sense had been totally satisfied. I was in love with the decadent pleasures of life. The check came; it was astronomical, but that day we could afford it. It had been another full day, full of new adventures. Our streak of luck at the tables. Jerry's new clothes. The gold cross with the ruby stone. The bedroom play. The lobster and Champagne. It was time for sleep. Tomorrow it would be on to Los Angeles. Jerry and I had crawled into bed. Jackie came out of the shower and started to lay down in the other one. "Come on now. We want you over here." Jerry had moved against the wall making room for him between the two of us. He clicked off the light and joined us. We assumed our most favorite of positions. Jackie on his back, Jerry and I laying in his arms, heads on his shoulders, facing each other. Jerry stuck his tongue out, and flicked it, taunting me to partake of his flesh. I met his challenge. Our tongues touched and coaxed us to draw even closer. We had almost forgotten our mentor as we lay there in his arms. Our naked bodies touched his from cheek to toe. Our organs were not at attention. This was devotion, not passion. Our dicks had not yet fallen off. But deep down inside we knew that even our lustful side was welcomed in the heart of the other. We slept. The next morning we played our "start the day routine", and had Jackie up and ready to leave the bed within two minutes. Playfully he said, "What a great way to start the day." Jerry looked across Jackie's chest. Our eyes met, and locked. "What am I, Shredded Wheat? Don't I get any?" I laughed. "Nope. I'm keeping you horny till later." He moved across Jackie and sat on my stomach, his prick literally pulsing. My hand went around it's shaft. Frolicsomly I rubbed it's length and was instantly rewarded with a full ejaculation that landed on my nose and mouth. "Fucker!" I started to lick his stickiness from my lips, but his tongue again met mine. His lips covered mine. He relaxed the pressure, "Did I ever tell you just how much I love you?" "Yeah, about 30 seconds ago." I wiped some of his sperm from my cheek and onto his. His mouth returned to mine. Then just as suddenly as it had begun, he sprang from on top of me to the floor. While I was showering they messed up the other bed. We had to erase any clue that might lead strangers to a correct assessment of our relationship. It was past eight o'clock by the time we had checked out of the hotel. The next leg of our trip would take us through a little truck stop town by the name of Barstow, then on to San Bernardino, and finally Los Angeles. The distance was about 350 miles. That was shorter than each of the previous legs. However, it was mostly through desert, and up mountains. The Model "A", was a solid vehicle. We had only one problem and that was at the crest of a mountain, where the radiator started to boil over. We rested just before the crest, letting the engine cool down, then coasted about 12 miles into a service station in Baker, California. We added water and oil, filled the tank with gas, and proceeded westward on our trek. It was close to four in the afternoon when we entered the Los Angeles City Limits on Route 66. We had intersected highway 101, and continued into Los Angeles. "I want to show you kids something." Jackie had turned at a road sign which said Echo Park. "My grandmother used to bring me to church here." We paralleled a park containing a small lake. It was just a short distance to the northern end. We turned left, and then right. "See that large white building." He pointed toward a large structure that had a big dome. On top of the dome was a Cross. Next to the dome was a radio tower. "That's where I first got interested in music. And that's where I first learned about the 'Thing." At Sunset Boulevard we made a left. A small motel was on the left side of Sunset. An archway led into a court yard. "We are going to stay here tonight. I want to show you a bit of Christian church history ... California style." We left the car parked in front of our room, and walked back a block, then down to the mysterious building. "That's Angelus Temple. Ever heard of it?" We shook our heads, "No." "Well that church was built by a preacher lady who knew how to harness 'The Thing' like no one I've yet to meet." We crossed the street to the front entrance, and walked into a long hallway which ran along the entire front of the building. Along the inner wall of the hallway were several long glass cases which contained crutches, braces, and even wheel chairs. "Sister Aimee could heal the sick, with just a touch of her hand." We had passed through a set of double doors and into a large auditorium. You could see four aisles with seats on both sides. At the end of the room was a large stage. I looked behind me and saw that there was also a balcony which stretched almost to the top of the dome. "See that ramp." Jackie pointed to a long walkway which extended from just below the balcony, sweeping along the right wall all the way to the stage. "That's where she would enter. She didn't have a spot light on her, yet when she entered that door, everyone knew she was there. She wore a long white dress, with a white cape. As she moved down the ramp the cape would fan out behind her, and of course every eye in the place followed her movement to the stage. She even had her own radio station," he pointed up to the top of the balcony. You could see red lights on the radio transmitter. "They were the first gospel station in the United States. They shared a frequency with another station. KRKD had to leave the air at seven every evening when Sister Aimee's station went on. There was a boom which extended from the curtains behind the stage with a microphone which could follow her as she moved." We had walked further down the aisle. "She had a flair for the dramatic. You think your Mama's idea of sermon and music intermixed was unique. No way. Aimee did that in the 1920's. She called them Cantatas. When I was about 10, a dog had bitten my hand. Grandma brought me to a healing service. Anyone who needed healing stood in a line. As each person reached the head of the line they would move out on to the stage. Grandma insisted that I get in the line. A church worker had her fill out a form which told about what needed to be healed. I was nervous as could be when it was my turn. I moved from the darkness of the line onto the bright stage. I remember being so close to her that I could smell her sweat. She looked down into my eyes, then glanced at the piece of paper. She remarked something stupid about god and dog bites. She looked back at me, touched my forehead, and that's all I remember, except a flash of white light in my mind. I couldn't have been unconscious for more than five seconds, because I remember one of the workers laying me flat on my back. I tried to get up, but the worker insisted that I stay put. We turned and moved back up the aisle, and exited the building. As we walked toward the motel Jackie continued, "That's where I first learned about the power of the mind. I had always wanted to re-experience that, to try and get a handle on what it was and how it worked. But until that night with you in Macon I never even came close to it. Yet, at 15 you have made it happen twice. Not as good as Aimee McPherson, but when you get to be her age I'd bet you will be even better than she was." I asked, "What happened to her?" "She died of an over dose of sleeping pills. The newspapers tried to make everyone think it was suicide. But I'd bet that she needed them to come down from the hype of an evening on stage." It was now past seven. We were hungry. We drove further west on Sunset looking for a place to eat. I spotted something strange. It didn't really look like a restaurant, but a sign said it was. The building had a small dome in the center and golden spires on either side. The building seemed to be part of an entrance way into a well maintained garden. At the rear of the garden was another single story white building which closed off the rear. Golden letters were placed vertically on one of the spires, "S.R.F". "What's that." I pointed toward the building. "I haven't the faintest," was Jackie's reply. "Let's eat there." Jerry echoed my sentiments. "Yeah, that looks interesting. Boy, I'm hungry, I could eat a horse." Jackie turned left at the next intersection, then around a block, and parked in front of the SRF. The front of the restaurant was glass, and you could see the diners sitting at tables. The waitresses were dressed in long, flimsy things that Jackie said were called sari's. The woman who seated us looked like she was in her late fifties. Her hair was gray and neatly brushed. Under the Sari was a simple flower patterned dress in blue and white. As she handed us a menu, she said, "The Lentil Curry is very good tonight." The restaurant was vegetarian; they served no meat. We elected to follow her advice. The diner included a tea made from mint leaves. There was honey on the table if you wanted to sweeten it. At the end she brought us each a tiny slice of a layered pastry containing nuts and honey. The food was good. The bill was far less than we had expected to pay. Afterward we continued further west. We crossed Vine Street, and Jackie pointed out the NBC Radio Studios. At Highland we noticed a large building across the street and on the right. A sign said this was Hollywood High School. A boy, about our age was standing on the corner, his thumb out. His jeans were so tight you could see his cock. He smiled until he focused on Jerry and I, then put his hand onto his dick, and moved his hips toward us. "What was that all about." I asked. "He's a hustler. A whore. He's selling his dick." Both Jerry and I glanced at each other in wonderment. Then turned to look back at the boy, who had again put his thumb out. He had a nice looking butt. At the next light we made a right, and drove up to Hollywood Boulevard, then another right driving down the main street of film-city. We passed Graumans Chinese Theater. We wanted to stop and look at the hand prints of the stars that had been made in the cement of the court yard, but there were too many people. The city part of Hollywood was very short. We again crossed Vine street, and drove back to our motel. Jackie was tired, and wanted to go to bed. I had an odd feeling, and wanted to return to Angelus Temple. Jerry accompanied me. We entered the same front door as we had earlier. There was a stairway that led up to the balcony area where the radio station was located. There was a chain across the stairs with a sign that said "No admittance". I disregarded the sign, ducked under it and continued up the stairs. Jerry followed. At the top I looked to my right and saw a room that I presumed contained the Radio Transmitter. Looking behind me I could see a glass-enclosed studio with a grand piano. We walked further northward. There was a window that overlooked the auditorium. As I gazed into the dimly lit room I could visualize the woman in white sweeping down that ramp toward the stage. A chill came over me; it was as though the ghost of some ancient power was haunting the place. A man came out of the transmitter room walking toward us. I could tell that he was going to throw us out. My eyes met his, for just a moment. He stopped, turned around and reentered the room. "Let's get out of here. This place gives me the willies." My body was shaking from the feeling. "You cold or somethin'?" I told Jerry that I wasn't. We hurried from the building. The warmer outside air made us feel better. We walked further away from the motel, toward the park with the little lake. It was quite dark. The park had a row of lamp posts lighting one of the paths. We headed down it. We made a turn, and came up short. There was a young guy pinning an older man to the ground. Another guy was standing by. The old guy was hollering something. "Hey what are you doing there." Jerry shouted. The older guy that was just standing there yelled, "Beat it kid, we're just busting a fucking queer." The guy flashed a badge at us. We turned, and walked back to the motel. Jackie was in bed but not asleep. We told him about what happened in the park. We went to bed. Jerry was cuddled around me; one of my favorite positions. Safe and secure in his arms. Within moments he was fast asleep, but not so for me. My sleep was fitful. I could not get the image of Sister Aimee floating down that ramp out of my mind. Some how Sister Aimee and the Queer from the park linked together, and I woke in a sweat. Jerry's cock was stiff and between my legs. His presence was reassuring. Yet when sleep returned my mind insisted on revisiting Angelus Temple. Saturday morning we slept til almost noon. Check out was no later than twelve, so we hurriedly dressed, got our things together, and left. Our plan for the day was mostly to sight see. The school wouldn't be open til Monday. But the school was on the list of places we wanted to look at. Friday night we had noticed a pancake house across from Hollywood High School, and had even then decided that was where we were going to have breakfast. Even though it was early afternoon the place was busy, and we had to wait in line for almost twenty minutes. We were seated in a booth with a view of Sunset Boulevard. Across the aisle from us there were two guys seated. The older man caught my attention. He was very distinguished looking. He had dark hair, and a mustache. He was dressed in a light tan suit. Across from him, and facing me was the young hustler we had seen the previous evening. His eyes met mine. There was no recognition. I whispered to Jerry. He turned and looked. This time the kid gave us a big smile and a wink. We both blushed. The kid said something to his companion. The man laid a twenty dollar bill on the table which the kid stuffed into his pocket. The boy then got up, walked past us with a smile on his lips. He stopped at our table, turned to look through the window. His cock was hard, and was practically resting on our table. I was tempted to move my fingers just an inch or two and touch that thing. He looked down into my eyes, gave me another wink, and proceeded out of the restaurant. He crossed Sunset and stood in the same spot we had seen him the previous night, thumb extended. Jackie left the table for a minute to use the pay phone. When he returned he said he'd been able to reach his friend Don MacMillan at his home. We were to meet him at the school in half an hour. We drove east on Sunset, and turned south on Vermont. At third street we made a left, driving east to Westmoreland. We turned left again and parked in front of a red brick, ivy covered building. The sign said "Westmont College", below that it also said "Cutler Academy". The front door was ajar. We entered. A portly man in his late forties came out of a doorway on the right. "Hey Jackie! It is good to see you." The man rushed forward, throwing his arms around Jackie. "Its been too long." He backed away, then again took him into his arms. "You look really great." Again he backed away and said, "Come on into my office." The room was large for an office; about twenty feet on each side. It was heavily carpeted. There was a baby grand piano against the left wall. The man seated himself behind the desk, and motioned for us to take the three chairs in front of and at the side of his desk. His gaze moved from Jackie to me, and then to Jerry. "So these are the two boys we've been hearing on the radio." Jerry and I looked quizzically at each other. "I broadcast a Bible study on a local station." The man pointed toward a microphone sitting on the side of his desk. "Our station carries the Revival Hour." He paused, then looked at Jackie, "By the way there is an urgent telephone call for you from Little Rock." He handed Jackie a slip of paper. Then he continued, "You've cut it pretty close. You know school starts Monday. We've got to get the boys tested, and assigned. Also, on Monday they need to meet their house parents, get bed assignments, and prepare for classes." He again turned to Jackie, "Where are you staying." Jackie explained that he was going to enroll and UCLA, and would try and find a small apartment near there. MacMillan suggested that he use the telephone in the next office to call Ray. After Jackie had closed the door behind him, MacMillan told us that our album had been broadcast on their station last Sunday. He had heard it and thought that it was "the best". Jackie returned. "Ray wants me to find a manufacturer as quickly as I can. The Song-Fest transcription was released last weekend. They have orders for more than a thousand." Don MacMillan looked questionaly at Jackie. "What do you need." Jackie explained the problem. MacMillan knew a fellow who ran a school for Broadcasters; The Don Martin School of Radio Arts & Sciences. The guy's name was Howard Townsend. He knew everybody, and if anyone was likely to know where we could make the best deal for getting the records pressed, it would be him. Don picked up the phone, dialed a number. "Is Howard available, this is Don MacMillan." Again, a pause. Townsend agreed to meet with Jackie later that afternoon. "Be there at four." MacMillan jotted an address on a sheet of paper and handed it to Jackie. "The school is located just below Hollywood Boulevard, and a block east of Highland." He looked over the top of his spectacles at the two of us, but directed his next remark to Jackie, "Be careful down there, that's a pretty strange area." He didn't need to explain. We had already been exposed to it. The image of the kid with his hard dick resting on our table would not leave me alone. We drove away from the school, and into Hollywood. We were again on Sunset Boulevard, at Highland we turned right. I couldn't stop myself from looking to where the little hustler had been standing. I felt a combination of disappointment and relief to note that he was not there. Jackie found a parking spot directly in front of the school. We waited in the car while he disappeared through the front door. At least a half hour went by. We decide to explore Hollywood on foot, and left a note on the dash that we would be back soon. It was only two blocks to the Chinese Theater. There were no tourists, we had the place to ourselves. We strolled along the slabs, pointing out famous names like Clark Gable, John Wayne, and Betty Grable. Jackie was sitting in the car when we returned. "See anything worthwhile?" We told him about the hand prints in the cement. Howard Townsend had been a great help. Capitol Records was the only place that really knew how to press the new LP format records. He gave him the name of someone to contact the first thing Monday morning. The question of where we were going to spend the night was discussed. I didn't want to return to the motel on Sunset. There were some hotels in Hollywood, but they were too expensive. We drove around a while. Jerry spotted a two story wooden building on Santa Monica Boulevard west of La Cienega. It didn't look expensive. Jackie returned from the motel office with a room key in his hand. We were on the second floor. It was close to six o'clock. There didn't seem to be anyone around. There had been an Italian Restaurant on a side street close to the Don Martin School. We drove back there. A sign told us the place was called Michels. It had a strong smell of Lasagna and freshly baked bread. A woman of indeterminate age seated us at a table covered with a red checkered cloth. There were globes of glass containing lit candles. Above us, were empty wine bottles suspended from the ceiling. We looked over the menu. Jerry ordered pizza, Jackie and I had the Lasagna. Freshly baked bread was put on the table while we waited for our dinner. Jackie ordered a glass of red wine which we craftily shared. The taste was almost velvety, and went very well with the hot bread. The waitress looked surprised at the empty wine glass when she brought the lasagna and pizza. "Another glass?" Jackie shook his head no. We returned to the motel. My mood was still strange. I had a feeling deep inside of me that would not be still. Jerry and Jackie were in bed. "I'm going for a walk." Jerry looked surprised. Jackie said, "Be careful. This isn't Arkansas." I stood on the second story balcony, looking out at Santa Monica Boulevard. There was a low stone wall along the far side of the hotel. Someone was sitting on the wall, facing the street, legs dangling. I moved toward the figure. As I drew closer I recognized him. It was the hustler from Sunset Boulevard. He heard me approach and turned. This time he recognized me. "Hey, how ya doin'." I didn't know what to say, and just stood there. "Cat got yer tongue?" I could feel my face turn red. Finally, I said, "What are you doing here?" He didn't answer the question. "I'm Danny. What's yours." "Johnny." "Hey, I know you, you're the one from the Pan Cake House this morning." I felt awkward. Then he continued. "Come on, sit up here with me." Still I hesitated. He stuck his hand inside of his tight jeans, and adjusted a very rigid, and very visible cock. "Come on, I promise I won't bite." Then he added, "At least not at first." He put out his hand, pulling me up along side of him on to the wall. "My date didn't show up." I looked at him questioningly, "Yeah, you saw him this mornin'. The dude in the tan suit. Good guy. We go out about three times a week. Good money, and all he want's to do is suck my cock." I could feel the blood rushing back to my face. "If he doesn't show up why don't you and I do somethin'." My body was responding to his closeness. My cock was rock hard, and I knew it was just as visible as was his. He reached over and took my hand placing it on his throbbing member. I knew I should return to the room, but I could not. I squeezed the hot tube, and it responded in a jerking motion. Danny reached over and grasped mine. "Hey, I'd like to put that thing in my mouth." In response I squeezed his even tighter. Again, it throbbed. It was as though it had a life of its own. "Do you make a lot of money?" He shook his head, "No. But some of my sugar daddies live in big houses up there." He pointed up toward the hills behind Hollywood. He looked at me closer, and said "I'd love to suck you dry. ... No charge." We were still groping each other. I wanted to go with him. I wanted to see that covered thing uncovered. "Let's go up to my room. Stu ain't gonna show." "You staying here?" "Yeah, 108." Just then a long, low, red sports car pulled up front. Danny jumped off the wall. "Business before pleasure." He opened the passenger door, disappearing into the darkness. The car sped down Santa Monica, and out of sight, the deep throaty vocal of its foreign muffler continued to proclaim its existence. Something strange was happening to me. I loved to sleep in Jerry's arms, yet visions of Sister Aimee floating down the ramp, intermingled with the beating the cops gave to that old man in Echo Park, and now the strong desire I felt to see the little hustler naked in my bed, kept picking at me. Back in our room I stripped naked. My cock was hard and rigid as I slipped into bed next to Jerry. Unconsciously he turned toward me wrapping me in his arms. His hand automatically moved down grasping my hot tool. He bit the back of my shoulder, and moaned something about loving to touch me. Nevertheless he continued to sleep. I lay there awake. Wondering about room 108, fantasizing about the hot raw sex that could have been going on there. At six o'clock I got out of bed, and dressed, and slipped out of the room. I walked down stairs and knocked on 108. There was no answer. The boy had not returned from his date. I walked out to the wall, and hoisted myself up on to it, legs dangling as had Danny's. An approaching car slowed down, and then stopped. "Hey Kid, need a ride." I shook my head, "No." and practically ran to the safety of our room.