AGAINST THE LAW. (PART 1) by Ganymede


WARNING:

This story contains a graphic description of sexual acts between men and 
MINOR boys. I do not condone either incest or child abuse, however boy-love as 
described in this story is an entirely different matter.This is the first part 
of a multi-part story. I will post other parts as time permits.

If the subject of man/boy sex offends you, if this material is illegal 
in your place of residence, or if you are under the legal age for such 
material, do not read further! You have been warned! Read at your own risk!

The story is copyrighted under the pseudonym, Ganymede. A single copy 
has been placed in the Nifty archives. Feel free to post it to appropriate 
newsgroups or send it to your friends. If distributing my story for monetary 
gain, please contribute $50 to a charitable organization providing services 
for boys.

The story is fiction. Any resemblance to any individual, alive or 
dead, is unfortunate.


FINAL WARNING:

If you are under the age of 18, if this material is illegal in your 
place of residence, or if man-boy relationships aren't your thing, then exit 
now and save yourself from a life of sin!



AGAINST THE LAW. by Ganymede


Chapter 1. The Phone Call.

I woke up lonely. That's the problem with being a boy lover in the 
1990's. Most of the time I sleep alone. Thirty years earlier I could have 
concealed my unnatural lust for prepubescent boys by befriending a lad who 
needed an adult male in his life. If mere companionship was all I desired, 
it was a simple matter of leading a scout troop and taking a needy youngster 
under my wing, but not anymore. People have simply become too suspicious of 
single men hanging around young boys. Under most circumstances, the rewards do 
not justify the risk. Of course, there were exceptions, and my mind drifted to 
the hazy memory of the beautiful pre-teen boy I had met at the mall. How 
long ago had it been? Two weeks, maybe even three weeks had passed and I could 
still remember his high-pitched voice. The dark-headed beauty was ten or 
eleven years old. His hair was long, far too long for a boy. Curling locks 
almost reached his shoulders at the back of his neck, long enough to give me a 
moment's pause, until reason convinced me that his presence in the rest-room 
was proof of his maleness.

He was certainly nervous, but he was also excited. The thrill of 
exposing himself to a stranger was tempered by the fact that he was very 
frightened. He did not have to tell me that it was his first time, his age and 
uncertainty providing evidence enough. Nor did he have to communicate in words 
that he was eager. He trembled visibly as his fingers unfastened the metal 
clasp of his shorts. The glimpse I had of his perfect boy-sized sex lasted 
only a few seconds before he jerked his shorts up again. The view of his 
diminutive maleness was worth every cent of ten dollars. He was very different 
to the Mexican boys I frequented every winter at Cancun and other resorts. 
To my jaded eyes, he was the epitome of innocent youth. By contrast, the 
Mexican boys would go the whole distance for ten dollars and back up for 
more before it was time to leave the privacy of my bedroom and go back to 
the beach for another 'client'.

He did not tell me his name. Afterwards, I called him John, for John 
Doe, and I thought of him endlessly. I imagined his middle-class home, his 
bedroom with the scattered bric-a-brac of childhood, his precious 
belongings. I could not forget the brilliant white of his underpants as they 
appeared through the gap in his shorts. A moment later, as I gazed intently at 
him his bare flesh appeared. He was deliciously tanned all the way down to 
about two inches above the start of his pubis. There, paler skin, untouched by 
the sun, though still with a healthy glow merged into a stubby pink penis 
and a slightly darker, very wrinkled scrotum. How I longed to see more of 
his beautiful young body. 

The morning sun had entered my bedroom window before I moved. I 
stretched lazily, content to lie languidly between the cool sheets for a few 
more minutes. I heard the quiet splash of water in the atrium. It was inviting 
and the idea of a swim before work appealed to me, but not enough to lure me 
to my feet. Casually my hand stretched down and brushed over my morning 
erection. I was as stiff as a two inch by eight inch board, the same as any 
other morning. I wondered whether I had dreamed of 'John' as I had on other 
mornings before I woke up. I could not remember. I imagined him on his back 
with his legs lifted up in the air until his heels were behind his head. 
Like the Mexican boys in my hotel room he would be eager, splitting his 
small ass wide open to reveal a small pucker. I thought of his pretty face and 
his spiraling curls framed between his knees, his little penis softening 
rapidly as I sunk my thick manhood into him. Like the Mexican boys, his eyes 
would open wide with surprise and painful pleasure as I filled him slowly, 
taking my time until my shaft was inside him and his body accepted its 
violation. Then impaled in the hot tight tube of his rectum, I imagined 
starting to fuck him. He would cry at first, whimpering with pain as my 
penis forced its way over his pea-sized prostate. I fantasized that he would 
want me there, gritting his teeth and straining to relax his muscles to 
accommodate my pounding shaft. Minutes would pass before his muscular 
contractions ceased and he was loose enough, and then he would writhe and 
thrash from the throes of ecstasy deep in his bowels. As fantasies went, it 
was very enjoyable.

I began to masturbate, mixing free floating images of the naked dark-
skinned bodies I had already possessed with the smooth, bronzed body of a boy-
god who I had yet to touch. I imagined soft cries of delectable joy as he 
embraced me and held my penis captive in his taut rectum, growing increasingly 
loud until he was jerking in unison with me in the throes of ecstasy, then 
groaning as he obscenely squeezed the essence of life itself from my loins. 
When my cock spasmed, I dreamed that the boy shuddered violently with his 
second orgasm, even more intense than his first passage of invisible semen. By 
the time I got out of bed it was nearly eight o'clock and the sheets were 
moist with my sweat.



Thirty miles away, on the other side of town, in a different world, 
the boy was already on his way to school. Slightly different thoughts filled 
his head. They were not the carefree dreams of a normal ten-year-old boy. 
Already he had started to come to grips with what he was and the shameful 
desires that now came naturally to him.



The three miles and four left turns from the Lafayette Mall to 
Wildwood Trailer Park were etched so deeply into Phillip's mind that it seemed 
as if he could ride his bike without even thinking. The mall was across the 
road and nearly a half mile beyond his school. He went there nearly every 
afternoon after school for the last few weeks. Each time he hoped against 
all probability that he would meet the man again. Each time his hopes were 
dashed, but he still went back. His life had taken a different turn after that 
first time. He still shivered every time he thought about it and his 
excitement was enough to provoke goose flesh on normally very smooth skin. 
He thought about the man again as he rode his bike to school. He remembered 
the gentle smile of admiration, the penetrating stare at the flash of bare 
skin before he hurriedly pulled his shorts up again. His heart pounded, his 
face flushed with guilt, and he trembled with the thought of what would have 
happened had they been discovered in the rest-room. Even after he had 
started home he was filled with worry that someone had seen him expose himself 
to the man. But it was their secret, he convinced himself, and he secreted the 
twenty dollar bill away in a corner of the trailer behind a loose panel next 
to his bed. He did not understand why the man had made the bet, but it 
obviously pleased him to see the boy's penis because he given Phillip double 
the money he had originally offered without explaining why he had increased 
the stakes.

Phillip's legs moved with such mechanical precision that it seemed to 
the casual observers who watched him ride past that he was in another world. 
For the moment, he lived in a dream world that allowed escape from his 
otherwise dull life. But his thoughts were not focused on a pretend 
existence in a place far from where he lived, or even of fantastic animals 
or legions of ninja warriors that boys his age conquered with unchallenged 
bravery. He thought only of the feelings he had experienced that afternoon, 
and afterwards when he was alone in his bedroom, and his fertile imagination 
did the rest.

Knowing now, no longer wondering, Phillip was more certain than he had 
ever been that he was what no boy ever wanted to be. Despite his self 
loathing, beyond his desire to distance himself and resist the feelings, 
each time he remembered, he wanted to, indeed needed to grasp his genitals and 
discover the pleasure again. The sensations that resided within his young body 
were no longer foreign to him. But there was little privacy in his home during 
the day except in the bathroom, and even then any unnecessary delay there 
was quickly noted. It evoked a swift question from his mother about the 
frequency of his bowel movements. He needed to masturbate with increasing 
frequency and each time his fantasies were of the grey-headed man in the 
mall rest-room. There was no one to answer the threatening questions that 
loomed in his mind and pursued his thoughts until he was afraid to be by 
himself. He yielded to his desires with guilty anxiety, knowing that he was 
different to other boys and worrying about the reason why.



He replayed the scene again and again until he reached his school. It 
seemed that he could think of nothing else. Even when he awoke early, as he 
did every morning, the first thoughts in his head were of what he had done 
with the man. Sometimes he rubbed at himself until his penis was red and 
sore to touch. Still, nothing came out when the sensations peaked and his 
thighs jerked savagely in response to the pressure of a dry emission. What 
he knew about sex he had learned in the playground. He knew the dirty words, 
enough to fill a page but with barely understood meanings. He had heard the 
boys talk about the parts of a woman's anatomy and he had slowly realized that 
while curious about the opposite sex, a woman's vagina held no real interest 
for him. He studied his friends and decided who was better looking and who had 
the largest bulge. He felt awkward around one boy's father when he visited, 
suddenly aware of the man's curious looks that seemed to appraise him and find 
him of interest. The frequent playful hugs and dishevelling caress of his dark 
hair told Phillip than the man liked him, and he basked in that knowledge 
without ever questioning why his penis always became stiffer when he was 
touched. However, that touching was innocent and it was the other kind, the 
sort of touch he knew the man in the rest-room could give him if allowed the 
opportunity, that he so desperately desired. By the time he had placed his 
bike in the rack Phillip knew that he would go to the mall again that 
afternoon, just as he had gone every day of the previous week.





The phone rang as I started on my third cup of coffee for the morning. 
Normally it was after ten o'clock by the time I reached the stage of needing 
caffeine in such quantities. However, it had been a long night, with the 
prospect of an another to follow as I prepared my case for trial.

"Yeah," I grumped. "What is it?"

"Mr. Young, I have Dan Davis on the line. He's with Chace and Page."

"I know who he's with. What's he want?" I answered as I made a mental 
note to check the secretary pool for a receptionist who knew how to filter 
my calls through my secretary instead of directing them to me. And then I 
remembered that Ms. Verney was off for a few days. This person who dared to 
interrupt my thoughts was the temporary relief who had delusions of becoming a 
legal secretary. Little did she know how soon she would be looking for her 
next job.

"He wants to speak to you, Mr. Young."

"I imagine so, that's why he's calling I expect. But WHAT does he want?" 
I demanded as I tapped my pen angrily on the desk top. "For Christ's sake, 
woman," I breathed softly.

"Um, I don't know, Mr. Young. He didn't say. Should I just put him 
through to you. It sounds rather urgent."

All tits and no brains. Most of them were like that. They spent more 
time putting on makeup than doing their work. The old ones were competent in 
ways that younger women were not, but they were nothing to look at. That was 
the key role of the receptionist, that and answering general phone calls to 
the office.

"Yes, why don't you do that, Miss."

I heard the phone click and then the extended delay as she endeavored to 
make the connection with a caller who was lost somewhere in the telephone 
system, never to reemerge and talk to a real person again. I had time for 
two long drinks of coffee before Davis came on the line.

"Yes," I asked swiftly. "How can I help Chace and Page this morning?"

The sarcastic tone of my voice did not go unnoticed by the junior 
partner of the city's largest criminal law firm. Unlike the commercial law 
firms, with huge departments in tax and corporate law, criminal law firms 
tended to peak at about ten attorneys. C and P were up to thirty, although 
most of them were junior attorneys with only a few years behind them. Dan 
Davis already had a reputation as a go-getter who could win a case so long 
as he did not go up against the few good prosecutors in the state. I was not 
jealous of the size of C and P. My own firm won as many cases and we were less 
than one quarter of the size. Quality, not quantity was the key for a 
successful criminal law practice. 

"Do you have a few minutes?" he asked.

"For C and P? or Dan Davis?"

"Both! I have a case going to trial on Friday and I need some help. Bill 
Chace recommended you."

I chuckled. "Yeah, I bet he did. I don't do cases on short notice. I 
tend to loose them and I don't like to lose."

"I guess not. No one likes to loose. However, I'm not after you to get 
involved in this case directly. There's a related matter that I'd like your 
help on. There's um,... a conflict of interest, you might say."

"Okay!" I sighed. 

There was no easy or polite way to get rid of him without hearing him 
out. Besides, I still owed Chace a favor,... or did he owe me one? We had 
worked together on several cases, beginning with the Lawson bankruptcy. The 
bankruptcy began with the failure of Lawson's real estate development 
company and it quickly degenerated into criminal proceedings as the IRS 
stepped in to claim its share whether or not it was entitled to one. Then 
Lawson's wife sued for divorce to get her share of what ever property was 
left. Her claim, and the basis for the settlement was that she had 
discovered her husband of fifteen years fucking a young teenage girl, a 
thirteen-year-old to be precise. My involvement came when the prosecutor 
picked up on it and one thing led to another. Between C and P and my own firm, 
Lawson got off the rape-of-a-minor charge before it ever went to a jury and 
managed to protect the major portion of his wealth from the bankruptcy 
vultures.

"I'll keep it short, okay. Chace and Page is representing a doctor, he's 
a pediatrician actually. He was arrested in Lafayette Mall, over by Emerson."

"Yes, I know where Lafayette Mall is, Mr. Davis." I smiled. 

I would never forget Lafayette Mall and the gorgeous dark-headed boy 
in the men's rest-room. I had not dared to go back again after the third time, 
although I considered the possibility every afternoon between three-thirty and 
four o'clock. 

"Arrested for what?" I asked with growing interest.

"He is being charged with gross sexual imposition and er,... one or 
two other things."

"With a minor?" I prompted, knowing the answer before I asked the 
question. I took a quick breath and felt my heartbeat surge with building 
excitement. "Was this gross sexual imposition with a boy or a girl?"

"A boy. A ten-year-old, believe it or not. Fortunately, he's not one 
of his patients, but it's still disastrous for a pediatrician."

I smirked as I wondered whether my young friend of six weeks earlier had 
been in the men's rest-room again. For some reason, I knew the two boys were 
one and the same. Six weeks earlier he was completely innocent and 
inexperienced, but he still very interested. Some boys are like that even at 
ten years old. A lot of things could change in six weeks. However I looked 
at it, it seemed likely that John had been caught in the act. I wondered 
what he had done with the pediatrician to qualify for gross sexual imposition. 
Under state law, a lot of things qualified. I was instantly envious of a man 
who I had never met and I found my voice increasingly uncertain as I talked. 
Deep down, I wanted to be the pediatrician, to enjoy the same fruits of the 
beautiful young body that he had apparently tasted.

"Disastrous for anyone, pediatrician or not. But you'd think a doctor 
would be smart enough to take the kid somewhere safe. Where did the act in 
question occur? The toilets or out in the parking lot?" I asked brutally.

"The toilets. It turns out that there was a police undercover 
operation going on. Apparently Lafayette Mall has a problem with its toilets 
and kids hanging out there. I believe it was especially bad last year when 
school was out for the summer. The cops who made the arrest tell me it was 
fast turning into a brothel. Some of the queers were even coming from New 
York."

"It's probably not too good for business at the mall, either," I joked 
as I remembered that one of Lawson's real estate companies was the owner of 
the mall. It was one of the few assets that he had managed to hold on to 
during the bankruptcy, although why he had been able to do so when the rest of 
his enterprises were being devoured by creditors was beyond my recollection. 
It had something to do with a blind trust for his children or an offshore 
holding company.

"They were found in the handicapped stall in the men's john. It's a pity 
he didn't take the brat outside to his car instead of going into the rest-
room. The arresting officers found the kid with his pants down to his knees 
and his bare butt sticking out."

"Sounds like a no-contest plea, to me," I replied lightly as I 
wondered exactly what the boy had been doing with his pants at his knees. If 
he was the same boy, he had gone a long distance beyond simply flashing his 
dick at a man while he stood in front of the urinal. I waited for a few 
seconds and overheard Davis talking to someone in the background. I pictured 
the rest-room, easily recollecting the details from my own visit there. The 
tiles were cream-colored with a crimson stripe about halfway up the wall. 
There were dark blue partitions between the stalls. There was a handicapped 
toilet at the end of the row. The urinals were white with no dividers.

"That was our advice too. He bites the bullet, but then he kills his 
medical practice. Maybe the judge will hit him with a fine and probation 
because its a first time offence. However, we entered a plea of innocent,... 
that's what the client wanted."

I nodded silently, thoughtfully considering the options. Going to a jury 
trial was at the bottom of the list. When it came to the vote, juries were not 
very supportive of child molesters. "What do you want me to do?" I asked.

"The kid,... he needs an attorney too."

"The kid? Why?"

"He's in Pierce Hall. Child Welfare has ordered him kept there until 
this is over. We think the prosecutor in the other case, it's Turner by the 
way, has used his leverage with someone at Welfare to make it happen. Sure 
there are signs that the kid's mother is unfit, but not enough to keep him 
there under normal circumstances."

"That sounds typical," I acknowledged. "Though being half-naked in a 
public rest-room is hardly normal behavior for a ten-year-old boy." I chuckled 
as I realized what I had just said. Being half naked, at least with one's 
pants down, was perfectly normal if one was alone in the stall. "What's the 
deal with the prosecutor? Why is he after the kid?"

"He's prima facie evidence for the State. Apparently the cops screwed up 
the arrest. They came in about five minutes too late. The plan is to put the 
kid on the stand to tell what my client did to him," Davis answered.

"That's sounds like it ought to work," I suggested lightly. 

"I've managed to get the boy's mother to speak up. There is a hearing in 
Juvenile Court tomorrow morning. He's not being charged with anything other 
than delinquency. It's a hearing regarding his mother's fitness to be his 
legal guardian." Too late I sensed the problem he was dealing with. The boy 
was being held hostage.

"You want me to handle that, right? I get the junior back safe to his 
mommy and he won't have to say a word on the stand? Or if he does, it won't 
hurt your client."

I heard Davis laugh briefly. "Something like that. The doctor has 
pleaded innocent because he said he was merely examining the boy after he'd 
been injured. The story he tells me is that the kid was kicked in the groin by 
another boy just before he walked into the john. The boy was lying on the 
floor and was in a lot of pain."

"Then all the good doctor did was uphold his Hippocratic oath," I 
laughed. "Some story! He's caught with his hand between a kid's legs and he 
was just examining the equipment for signs of injury. I wonder whether the 
jury will buy it."

"Maybe they will if the kid tells the same story from the witness 
box," Davis suggested slowly. "By the way, the boy's name is Phillip Bradley." 
He hesitated. Again, I found myself wondering whether my John Doe was also 
Phillip Bradley. I had to find out. It was both difficult and easy to 
believe that the innocent little flasher who had raised my blood pressure to 
dangerous levels was the same boy who went into public rest-room for sex 
only a few weeks later. And then I realized my error. Perhaps it wasn't a 
matter of a few weeks, maybe only a few days because he had been 
incarcerated at Pierce Hall after the arrest.

"How long has the Bradley kid been in the slammer?"

"Oh,... a while now. A few weeks at least. That's part of the problem. 
>From what I've heard, he's scared to death!

"This kid, Davis, how good will he be on the stand?" I asked carefully.

"Okay, I think. Like I said, he's frightened now of course, but once 
he's out of Pierce he'll settle down quickly. He's a smart kid and he's as 
cute as they come. Long dark hair, big innocent eyes,... you know the 
Mediterranean look. The jury will love him. He's a very good-looking kid, 
you might even say he's too pretty to be a boy. He certainly needs a 
haircut. He even looks like a girl."

"And all he has to do is say he was kicked in the balls." I smiled.

 Phillip Bradley had to be the same boy. How many effeminate boys were 
there in Emerson? Mostly, there were blacks and Appalachians in that 
neighborhood, and gays were not tolerated. It was not the poorest part of 
town, but it was not far from it. At least people worked for a living there.

"That's your job. The State intends to put the Bradley kid on the 
stand on Friday. We need him on to be our side."

"Nothing like a surprise witness. I don't encourage my clients to 
perjure themselves," I responded. "If the boy says that's what happened, 
then I'll have to believe its true. However, I don't intend to suggest that he 
lie on the stand. And, let's be frank, it sounds pretty farfetched, doesn't 
it? What did the cops see?"

"A ten-year-old with his pants at his ankles, that's all. He may have 
had an erection at the time but they didn't see it. Anyway, it would have 
wilted pretty quickly when they barged in." Davis paused and then continued. 
"There is nothing that contradicts Phillip's story. One of the officers even 
admits to seeing a teenager leaving the toilets before my client went in. 
The boy was in there with him for more than ten minutes after that. They had 
more than enough time."

"More than enough time for what?" I asked suggestively. It was hard to 
imagine my dark-headed boy with his angel's face doing anything depraved. 
However, the guileless smile he gave me when he took my twenty dollars 
suggested otherwise.

Davis laughed. "I expect he sucked my client off, don't you? I 
wouldn't be surprised if the cops knocked the door down when he was getting 
ready to have the favor returned." 

"Okay," I said impatiently. I really did not want to hear about 
Phillip doing something like that. I wanted to think of him the way I had 
met him, the innocent, untried boy who was curious to learn.

"Give my secretary the facts, his mother's name and phone number and any 
other information you have on him. I'll look in on him this afternoon when I'm 
finished in court."

"We have the doctor's agreement about your bill. Your bill won't be 
included in ours. He's already paid a $5,000 non-refundable retainer just 
for you. That should be enough to cover any cost you might have. With that big 
a retainer, there might even be something leftover for the kid and his mom 
if you are interested."



I replaced the telephone and stretched back in my seat. The $5,000 
retainer was a bribe, pure and simple. My fee for an hour or two in court 
and coaching the boy was worth $1,000 at most. Did it really matter what the 
truth was any longer? If I had any doubts, the Simpson trial put an end to 
them. A lawyer's job was to do what ever it took to win his client's 
release. My job was to convince a ten-year-old 'cocksucker' to lie under oath. 
I had a mental image of the tiled wall of the men's rest-room at Lafayette 
Mall and the pretty boy who stood next to me at the urinal. I felt my pulse 
accelerate as I remembered my words. My glance at his bronzed arms and bare 
legs had lingered until I had to say something. He shook the last droplet from 
his small penis concealed between his fingers and was ready to close his 
zipper just as I spoke.

"I bet you ten bucks that nice tan of yours doesn't go all the way to 
your legs."

His head swivelled and I saw both shock and consternation that someone 
would not only address him in the anonymous privacy of a urinal, but that I 
would suggest something so naughty. He smiled slightly. From his clothes and 
worn out sneakers I suspected that ten dollars was worth much more to him than 
it was to me, but who could tell with kids today. For a second he was quiet, 
obviously considering the offer. His voice was very soft and it quivered 
with juvenile passion.

"Ten bucks?" he questioned. I nodded. "Just to see if I'm brown all 
over?" he asked uncertainly. I nodded again. He flushed and took a deep 
breath, readying himself to take flight. Ten dollars was a lot of money to 
him. "I'm not brown,... everywhere," he replied anxiously. "Okay?" I raised my 
eyebrows quizzically. Clearly, it was not enough to win. I needed proof. "I 
wear a swimming costume at the pool," he added.

I grinned at him again. "Show me," I said quietly.

He glanced around quickly, as if wondering whether this was a cruel 
trick or a trap of some kind. He swallowed and took another quick breath. 
His right hand closed to form a fist and I wondered whether he was going to 
hit me or run for help. He licked his bottom lip nervously. I smiled 
reassuringly and realized that I had seen that simple gesture a thousand times 
from nervous clients. Usually they did it before they lied to me. He shook his 
head and I shrugged nonchalantly in return.

It was a standoff but he still had taken no step towards putting the 
merchandise away and closing his zipper. I realized at that instant that he 
did not really understand why I wanted to see if he was brown all over, even 
when he had admitted that he was not. I smiled to myself. It was too easy, 
like taking candy from a baby. I should have felt like I was taking 
advantage of his innocence but the opportunity was more than I could resist.

"No one is going to know, if you show me," I suggested carefully.

I turned towards him, my own penis now safely concealed behind my 
trousers. I shrugged again as I opened my wallet and extracted a relatively 
crisp ten dollar bill.

"Ten bucks," I said in a voice that was barely a whisper. "If you show 
me."

I could feel his fear tempered by the thrill of exposing himself. 
There was only one reason why he lingered beside me. He wanted exactly what 
I wanted but he was scared stiff.

His hands moved quickly despite his nervousness. He glanced around again 
as he fumbled with the metal button at his waist. Then the front of his shorts 
parted and I glimpsed his white briefs. He risked a darting glimpse to see 
if I was watching and then his right hand jerked the elastic waistband 
downward. He stopped a few inches below his small plump scrotum and I gazed on 
his perfect boyhood. He was circumcised like me, with a fat, pink head. His 
was a short penis that was lifted up on the pillow of his ball-sack. That he 
was quickly becoming excited was also obvious as his penis began to stretch 
out. Before it expanded and began to lift upward, his hands dragged his 
underpants back up again. It had taken all of ten seconds. By the time he 
had closed his zipper my heart was going at high speed and I had removed 
another ten dollar bill from my wallet. At two dollars a second, Phillip 
Bradley was being paid at the same rate I billed my clients, not bad for 
someone who had only a fourth grade education.



My secretary brought me back to reality with a thud as she closed the 
door behind her. I gave her instructions to call the boy's mother and 
arrange for me to represent him at the hearing before I went back to working 
on another case. Time and time again I found my thoughts scattering as if 
blown in every direction. The source of my disturbance was Phillip and the 
mere thought of seeing him again before the day was finished was enough to 
make me sexually aroused. I ate lunch at my desk.



Chapter 2. Pierce Hall

It was almost five p.m. when I pulled up in the parking lot outside 
Pierce Hall. It was an unusual setting for a state institution for juvenile 
offenders. Some time in the recent past it had been a grade school. White 
flight to the suburbs had generated its demise and rather than turn the 
relatively new buildings over to the demolition company, the city had arranged 
for the state to take it over. I parked in a lot that was several times larger 
than needed judging by the half dozen cars parked there, walked to the 
building identified as the Administration center by a bold sign, and announced 
my desire to meet Phillip Bradley in my capacity as his lawyer. I had no 
doubts that I was the highest paid lawyer to ever grace the premises with 
his presence. Few kids, if any, who managed to visit Pierce Hall had parents 
with the wealth to pay my fees. Promptly, the director came out of the inner 
office with his hand extended in mock friendship. He was a clammy, rotund 
man with exceedingly bad breath and poor manners. He was exactly the type of 
person one would expect to find in the public service.

He began with a series of questions designed to find out why I was 
representing an indigent minor. Clearly, he had been primed by the state 
prosecutor, his own intelligence being insufficient for the task.

After a few minutes of banter, I framed my response as a demand to see 
my client as was his legal right. He backed off swiftly. Thrust and parry 
was finished. He led me down a long vinyl-tiled corridor, making loud clicks 
with his hard vinyl-soled shoes as he bustled along. Classrooms had been 
converted to living units and recreation areas. All told, Pierce Hall was a 
very pleasant place compared to some of the prisons I had gone into to meet my 
clients. However, this client was special, not only in my mind, but also in 
someone else's. Phillip Bradley was not assigned to one of the living units. 
Instead, he placed in a windowless room. At one time it probably had been a 
storage room. Now it was a musty cell, with the only lights being wire mesh-
encased fluorescent tubes. There was a cot in the corner and nothing else

He lay on his side with his face towards the dull grey wall. He appeared 
to be smaller and much thinner than I remembered him. His hair was dark and it 
glistened. He turned slightly as the two-inch thick solid door opened behind 
him. His recognition was instantaneous and I shook my head swiftly as I 
stood behind the director. 

"This is Phillip," the man said. "This is your NEW attorney, his name is 
Mr. Young."

"Hi Phillip," I cut in quickly. "I'm pleased to be meet you." The look 
on Phillip's face was memorable. He started to smile in what must have been 
the first time since he had come to the facility several weeks earlier. Hope 
blossomed as his dejection faded. I agreed with Dan Davis, he was far too 
beautiful to be a boy.

"What's he doing in solitary confinement?" I demanded. It was time to 
exercise my power.

The director's head spun as he turned to face me. "Uh,... well,... 
it's for his own safety. He hasn't been convicted yet. It's not safe for him 
to be with the other boys. Uh,... they might hurt him,... or something."

"I understand he hasn't even been charged with anything other than 
delinquency," I retorted swiftly. "Due process has a problem around this place 
I would say. He should never have come here in the first place. His mother 
is quite capable of taking care of him."

"His mother,... I was told she is,... er,... on drugs or an alcoholic or 
something. He's much safer here with us."

"She isn't," Phillip interrupted angrily. "That's a lie."

"I want you to know I plan to get you out as soon possible." I spoke 
gently to him and then turned to the Director. "As for you, I am considering 
filing an application for suit with the State. Given that he's a minor, they 
will almost certainly agree to it. Don't be surprised if you are named 
personally."

"I can see if another room is available," the Director said 
apologetically. "Does that help?"

I shrugged absently. "Is this okay until tomorrow?" I asked the 
youngster. He beamed happily and nodded his answer. He could see the light 
at the end of the tunnel. "Then forget it. Now, I need to talk with young 
Mr. Bradley in private if you don't mind."

"We have an interview room," the Director offered gratuitously.

"No thanks!" I shook my head. I wanted to talk to Phillip on his own 
turf and this dismal room was as close as I could get. I needed his confidence 
and trust. I didn't need the truth. I needed for him to believe in me. "This 
won't take very long," I added hopefully. 

He departed and locked the door behind him after instructing me to 
call for the guard down the corridor when I was finished with my interview. 
The boy and I stared at each other. No words passed between us for more than a 
minute as we studied the other and remembered. My dreams came back in a 
frantic rush of images of the precious boy standing in front of the urinal 
with his underpants pulled down below his immature penis to win his bet.

Slowly I moved to the side of the bed and sat down beside him. He 
shifted to the side and then came to a sitting position. He was the 
'Thinker' with his pretty head bowed down and supported by both hands. He 
was sad. 

"I went back again to find you," he mumbled as he breathed out. "I 
went back every day almost, but you never came.... I wanted you to be at the 
mall so badly."

I groaned inwardly. How could I have been so cruel? I wanted to say 
how sorry I was but I was now his lawyer. What had happened in the rest-room 
was now in the past. "I know most of what happened, Phillip. However, there 
are a few blanks I need you to fill in."

He nodded uncertainly. "I,... " he began nervously. "I,... I didn't mean 
to do anything bad." I could hear his despair and realized he was only a few 
seconds away from breaking into tears. "I went there because I was hoping 
I'd find you again," he muttered as his sobs became ever closer.

"Listen to me, Phillip!" I said gently as I placed one arm around his 
small shoulders protectively. It was an instinctive reaction to support a 
boy in turmoil. "I don't think you did anything bad," I continued. I needed to 
make him feel better. "You know, I went back the next two afternoons to find 
you," I admitted. My throat was suddenly very dry. "I would have gone more 
often but I can't get out of the office much before six o'clock." I took a 
deep breath, knowing that I was exposing my inner self to the child beside me. 
"And with the traffic and all, I couldn't get there until after seven. I 
knew you wouldn't be at the mall that late. I,... I'm sorry, Phillip. I really 
am."

He nodded and sniffed louder. With his head bent forward I could not see 
if he was crying. It certainly sounded like it. Lovingly my fingers stroked 
his shoulder. I felt supple skin and the firmness of bone and a trace of 
muscle and tendon. 

"I didn't go back for a few days,.... I guess I was too scared," he 
murmured.

I sighed, disbelieving that I was having this conversation with a boy 
who had existed as a memory in mind for six long weeks. "I guess we were 
both scared, Phillip," I said reassuringly.

"I can't help it," Phillip whined. "I try not to,... you know think 
about bad stuff only I can't stop myself."

I smiled as I breathed out. "For one thing, it isn't bad or wrong. 
Some men,... and boys too, are gay. That's the way it is. You can't help the 
way you are," I suggested gently. He turned slightly so that his beautiful 
eyes looked directly into mine. I glimpsed the frightened little boy within 
him before he turned away again. "We're the same," I said softly. "We can't 
help the way we feel."

"Are,... are you gay?" Phillip asked nervously.

I nodded. "In a way," I replied slowly. He turned back to look at me 
again, now curious as he tried to reason it out for himself. "I like boys 
instead of men." I added to see what his reaction was. Phillip's eyes met mine 
and I could see his interest was becoming more aroused. "I suppose that 
means I'm gay, but I don't think of myself as being gay."

He smiled slightly. "Boys?" he asked with a nervous swallow. I raised my 
eyebrows and returned the smile. I was fascinated by his curious gaze. 
"Why,... do you like boys?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I guess its because I think boys are the most 
beautiful and wonderful creatures on Earth. I really don't know. I've never 
thought about it. It's just the way I am. Maybe its because part of me 
didn't grow up properly. Sometimes I think I still want to be a boy."

"Yeah! It's a whole lotta lot of fun," Phillip said with a long sad 
sigh. His curiosity dissipated. "I hate myself!"

The despair in his young voice was very disturbing. I was at a momentary 
loss to understand what his problem was until I remembered the intense 
pressure that came from simply being different to one's peers. For a pre-
teen boy, being gay was the worst thing that could happen to him. A child 
who was not even beginning his teens, and already Phillip despised himself for 
a sexual orientation that had barely begun to manifest itself. What cruel 
vagary of nature caused him to be what he had become? At ten years old, I 
doubted that Phillip had even started to grasp the concept of sex, and then 
one day in a public rest-room, without any warning, unspeakable desires 
blossomed in his mind. His immature body responded instinctively and 
powerfully as nature had always intended. I nodded sympathetically as I 
tried to find reassuring words. For one who supposedly knows the real power of 
language, words failed me for the first time. I gave him a loving hug and felt 
my heart go out to him. He needed to be held and I left my arm draped over his 
thin shoulders. I was very aware of the veiled intimacy of the gesture. I 
wanted only to draw him into my warmth and shelter him from the self-
loathing that I knew he was feeling. The sense of merging with him, uniting 
our minds, bodies, and souls, gave me gooseflesh. As we sat in stony 
silence, I was captivated by the realization that I had never felt so close to 
another person in my entire life. It that depressing cell-like room, I 
discovered a kindred spirit, not unlike the boy who I had once been. His 
body warmth radiated against me until it seemed that we were one and the same, 
a single being whose purpose was to stand against a world that condemned us.



My secretary had gathered background information on Phillip Bradley 
and left the file on my desk before I went to court. I had memorized the brief 
details of the arrest and a young life that tottered on the edge of poverty. 
His mother was fourteen or fifteen when he was born. His father was unknown, 
or at least un-named in the records. He was an only child. County records 
showed that he had been raised on welfare. He was of well above average 
intelligence although he had experienced some difficulty in school. He had 
been on a low dosage of Ritalin since he was eight years old. This was the 
first time that he had been in trouble.

"Why were you put in solitary confinement?" I asked gently.

Phillip groaned and shuddered against me. "He said I was 
disgusting,... because I was queer,... that's why! He didn't want me hanging 
around the other boys staying here because,... He said I might do bad things 
with them."

"Who said that?" I demanded. "The Director?"

Phillip's head moved abruptly. "No! The other guy, he told Mister 
Bromley not to put me with the other boys because of it"

I smiled as I wondered. This was becoming interesting. "Was he a tall 
man, about my age?" It had to be the prosecutor, I reasoned. "With hair that 
is mostly grey, about like mine, but cut really short?"

"I guess. He asked me a lot of questions about what happened at the 
Mall. Every time I said something he acted like he didn't believe me. A few 
times he even said I was lying."

I nodded again. "What else did he say, Phillip?"

Instinctively, he licked his bottom lip. It was one of the signs that 
I had learned to recognize when clients were very worried about something they 
hadn't told me.

"Uh,..." he began. He glanced away and mumbled something under his 
breath.

"What did he say, Phillip? My job is to get you out of here. I can 
only do that if I know everything. You have to tell me so I can do my job."

"He,... he said I wouldn't get out of here unless I told what happened 
when I was in there. I could only go back to my mom if I did what he told me."

"Do you want to tell me what really happened, Phillip?" I asked 
casually.

He nodded quickly, giving me the impression that he wanted to get the 
weighty matter off his chest. "Like I told you already, I only went to the 
Mall because,... because I thought you'd be there," Phillip mumbled self-
consciously.

I swallowed guiltily and wondered whether he blamed me. From my 
perspective, it seemed that it was only right that he did so. "I'm sorry I 
wasn't there for you. I can try to make up for it by getting you out of this 
place. What happened?" I repeated.



Chapter 3.

I was not overjoyed by the prospect of putting my young client on the 
stand and I resolved to do my very best to keep him out of court, his own 
hearing notwithstanding. Phillip's story was not pleasant and it confirmed 
my worst fears, although it was not as bad as it might have been. He had 
gone to the mall to meet a man who he had last seen several weeks earlier, 
however his hope of renewing the acquaintance was fading. As a result, when 
the opportunity arose with another stranger, he took it. I was jealous and 
angry at myself for not going back to the mall one more time. Surely I would 
have met Phillip again and the unfortunate experience that had occurred 
might well have been avoided, or at least postponed. As he talked, his fear 
and shame gradually lessened and his nervousness evaporated. I already 
suspected that part of his problem was that he needed a father. He was at that 
age when a male role model was critical. Part of me longed to be the father 
that Phillip needed. The other part of me, against my better judgement, wanted 
to have him in my bed.

I realized as he talked that it was much more than fathering that 
Phillip needed. He was a lonely boy and the shameful desire that had slowly 
formed within him had grown until it was overpowering. There was little that 
he could do to resist the temptation when he was offered only what he wanted 
deep within his psyche. The forty dollars that the stranger offered was merely 
icing on the cake. Phillip did not have to admit to me that he would have gone 
into the cubicle even if the money was not offered. The good news was that 
there was also some truth to the story that the doctor had provided him aid 
after an older boy attacked him.

His hearing, or rather his mother's hearing to regain custody began at 
eleven o'clock the next morning. It was over before I was ready for my third 
cup of coffee for the day. Juvenile Court is considerably less formal than the 
State Superior Court. It was only my second or third appearance in as many 
years and the casual manner of the court was both disarming and gratifying.

After a brief review of the State's charge that Kathleen Bradley was 
unsuited to be Phillip's legal guardian, the Judge turned to me and raised his 
eyebrows with an unspoken question. I stood up and moved sideways toward the 
seated boy, placing myself close beside him in a protective stance. With his 
mother on the other side, he would feel safe. He looked up, met my eyes, and 
gave me a cheerful smile. It was unpracticed and I suddenly felt very proud of 
the boy beside me. No matter what I promised myself, when he left the court he 
would not go back to Pierce Hall.

"Your Honor, I move for dismissal of the case. There is ample evidence 
that this boy's mother is capable of providing adequate care and support of 
her son as required for legal guardianship."

I sparked the Judge's interest. He leaned forward, placing his elbows on 
the large mahogany desk and examined me with a quizzical look. 

"Perhaps you might reveal some of that evidence, Counsellor."

"I'd be pleased to. The Department of Child welfare has claimed that 
Kathleen is unemployed and without the funds to adequately support her minor 
child. Her employment status is irrelevant. Corey vs. Pennsylvania, LaFleur 
vs. Pennsylvania,..."

"Yes, I know the precedents. I wrote some of the opinions on the cases 
you are about to cite. However, this case goes beyond financial standing. 
There are other questions here that the Court must deal with."

"Yes, Your Honor. It is also alleged that Kathleen Bradley has three 
convictions for possession of illegal substances. There are as many 
decisions from this court to show that possession does not constitute 
grounds for being an unfit parent."

"Yes, Counsellor, I know about those too. However, if I may speak 
openly, the fact that the boy was arrested in a mall rest-room suggests that 
the problem before us is an issue that pertains to his moral upbringing and 
not his physical nourishment."

I took a deep breath. "That is not an issue here, Your Honor. However, 
since you have referred to it, perhaps I might expand on the subject." 

The Judge nodded swiftly. I glanced down at Phillip. There was nothing 
to lose. I wondered what his response would be when I lied. I wondered how 
much his mother knew. I wondered whether the Judge would believe me.

"On April 3rd, Phillip went to the men's rest-room at Lafayette Mall. He 
was accosted and physically attacked there by an older boy. Phillip believes 
this boy to be about fifteen years old. That boy accused him of being a 
prostitute. When my client denied that he was there for no other reason than 
to use the urinal for its intended purpose, the older boy assaulted him, 
specifically the youth kneed him in the groin. My client fell heavily to the 
floor and was still in considerable pain when another person entered."

I paused and waited for the interruption. I placed my hand on 
Phillip's shoulder and restrained him. A moment later the attorney at the 
other desk leaped to his feet.

"Your Honor, I object. If it please the Court, I move that the last 
statement be stricken from the record. Phillip Bradley has not been charged in 
the incident referred."

"No, Your Honor, he has not been charged. However, he has been held in 
custody since the incident occurred with the intention of securing his 
testimony as a witness for the State in a trial that is scheduled to begin 
later this week. The charge that his mother is unfit is a farce and intended 
only to keep the boy at Pierce Hall so that he testifies against Doctor Leon 
Chalmers."

"Your Honor, nothing of that case is relevant in this hearing."

"Your Honor, Phillip has been kept in solitary confinement since his 
arrest. He has seen his mother only two times in nearly a month."

"Your Honor, that's a gross exaggeration. It's only been three weeks and 
two days. And the fact is that his mother did not attempt to see him during 
that time."

"Your Honor, Kathleen Bradley has been trying desperately to get a job 
in the belief that she needed one in order to get her son back. She was told 
to do so by the state prosecutor for the case against Chalmers. In fact," I 
said with emphasis as I turned around to look to the rear of the room, "I find 
it very interesting that the Assistant DA happens to be sitting in the back 
row of this Courtroom at the present time."

"Enough!" The Judge said with exasperation. His eyes travelled to the 
rear of the courtroom and he sighed as he shook his head. "Sit down both of 
you. I won't have legal antics in my Court! Fill in the rest of the story, 
Phillip. Tell me about Doctor Chalmers and what happened in the toilet."

I sighed. The rest was up to Phillip.

"I hurt really bad, Sir. Uh, Your Honor, Sir. It was like it was on fire 
down there. I've been kicked there once before when I was playing soccer, 
but it never hurt like that. It was awful!"

The Judge nodded. "When Doctor Chalmers came in, were you still lying on 
the floor, Phillip?"

Phillip glanced up at me and I turned away. It would have to be his lie. 
He nodded slowly. "It felt like he busted them, Sir,... my balls, Your 
Honor. I felt like I was going to be sick. Then there was this guy standing 
over me and he asked me if I was okay. I couldn't speak,.... because I was 
crying." Again the Judge nodded. I could feel him becoming increasingly 
sympathetic to the beautiful dark boy with the startling large eyes. He 
radiated innocence. 

"Objection, Your Honor!" The attorney was met with a withering glare. "I 
object! He's,... he's,... he's,... not under oath."

"The boy is not on trial here!" I intervened. "But the truth is. Your 
Honor, this is obviously difficult for my client."

"I agree, Counsellor. But let's get this over with. Phillip tell me what 
happened then."

"Uh,... I guess he helped me up. I remember I nearly fell on the floor 
again so he had to hold me. I felt like I was going to throw up any second. My 
balls hurt like hell. I didn't know anything could feel that bad," he added 
for effect.

I sensed Phillip's head start to lift to find my support. Gently I 
squeezed his shoulder. He needed to do this by himself. "Then, he sort of 
helped me into one

of the cans, Sir." He took a deep breath. "It felt like I was bleeding 
down there!"

The Judge nodded severely and I smiled inwardly. Phillip was very 
believable by himself, but under even a slight cross examination he would 
break. "Go on, lad."

"He told me he was a doctor and asked if it was okay for him to see if I 
was badly hurt." Phillip grinned playfully. "It sure felt like I was at the 
time."

"I can imagine. It always hurts when you get kicked down there." The 
Judge returned the smile and glanced sideways, silencing the state's 
prosecutor.

"I felt a whole lot better when he took my shorts and undies down. At 
least I could see that I wasn't bleeding or nothing. He said the cool air 
helped too."

Phillip took a deep breath. "I guess it was about then that the cops 
kicked the door down.... I wasn't doing anything wrong. And the Doctor, all he 
was doing was trying to make me feel better and see if I was injured."

The Judge nodded. "Then what happened?"

"Um, well they took me into this room upstairs and they asked me a bunch 
of questions about why I was in the toilets and what the Doctor did to me. 
They made it sound like I done something bad,... like I was bad for just being 
there." He shifted uncomfortably. This part was true. It had been a long 
wrenching interview for a ten-year-old boy in his first brush with the law. 
"They called me a queer and stuff like that."

"What sort of questions?" the Judge asked carefully.

"Uh, they asked me if he sucked my thing." Phillip reddened on cue. 
"It was gross. They wanted to know if I sucked his thing as well.

"Your Honor," I interrupted. "Might I suggest you ask whether young 
Mr. Bradley was properly warned about his rights before the questions actually 
started."

"I object!"

"I bet you do!" I said loudly. "There is a clear violation of due 
process here! And even if they did read him the Miranda statement at some 
point during his interrogation, I doubt whether he even began to understand 
what his rights were when he was scared stiff." I paused for effect. "There is 
ample evidence that the child was frightened. The police report even 
mentions his nervous state and the need to go to the bathroom several times 
during the so-called interview."

The Judge's expression was serious. "Counsellor, you might have a point. 
In the case of Hakley vs. Penn. I said much the same thing about how the 
treatment accorded to the minor was sufficiently disturbing to prevent his 
full understanding of his rights. It sounds to me as though Phillip was 
treated in much the same fashion."

I smiled. It was a case that my best junior associate had turned up 
during last minute preparations at midnight. There was nothing better than 
confronting a Judge with one of his own cases, and I had not even mentioned it 
by name.

"Add that to the fact that Phillip was then taken to Pierce Hall and not 
allowed to speak to his mother for nearly ten hours," I suggested slyly. 
"And what we have is a traumatized child pressured by the State to give 
evidence so the prosecutor can get a child molestation conviction of a good 
samaritan." 

"Jesus, this is ridiculous. How does a damned pin-stripe lawyer get 
involved in a case like this?" breathed the State's attorney, himself barely 
out of a third-rate law school. He turned sharply as the Assistant DA loomed 
behind him. The expression on his face was of sheer anger at being outfoxed. 
His case was disappearing faster than the water down a toilet. They 
whispered together for nearly a minute as the Judge waited impatiently. It was 
a bad move on their part and I could barely restrain my smile as the seconds 
ticked past. Finally, the attorney turned to face the judge again. He was 
becoming increasingly nervous.

"Independent of whether there was some minor infraction of due 
process, it still leaves the matter of the fitness of Ms. Bradley to be the 
boy's guardian. She is currently unemployed, Your Honor and,..."

"I've already determined that Ms. Bradley's employment status is 
irrelevant to her ability to be legally responsible for her son," the Judge 
interrupted. "Do you have anything else for the Court to consider on the 
question of her fitness?"

"Uh,... well Your Honor, I am informed that an eviction notice exists, 
for er,... non payment of rent, and its been issued for her present 
abode,... effective a week from tomorrow, if I an not mistaken."

I seized the opportunity presented to me. "Your Honor, Kathleen 
Bradley is not unemployed. She has a job as my house cleaner and cook," I 
lied. I was becoming tired of playing games. "Admittedly, she started only 
yesterday, but she now has a job working for me. I can probably take care of 
the eviction problem as soon as I leave here," I added.

"Jesus Christ! I don't believe this!" the State Prosecutor snarled as he 
edged closer towards Phillip. "Object, for God's sake!"

"Object about what? Uh? There is still the problem of a ten-year-old boy 
hanging around the Mall rest-rooms, Your Honor. "

The Judge smiled slightly. "And what about Phillip's moral upbringing. 
He may have a point about Ms. Bradley's prior convictions for controlled 
substances."

I shrugged. "The case law says otherwise, Your Honor. Do I need to 
cite them?"

He smiled again and the corners of his eyes crinkled. "In my opinion, 
this boy needs the firm hand of discipline. A boy like Phillip needs a lot 
of guidance and nurturing as he grows up. The warning signs are quite clear in 
this instance. I have no doubts that young Mr. Bradley is headed for more 
trouble. It might sound sexist, but there are some things that a mother 
can't provide and a male role model is one of them. Without a father in the 
home to answer his questions and keep an eye out for him, his current troubles 
will be nothing."

I glanced down at Phillip's dark head. There was nothing I wanted more 
than to be Phillip's role model, although I suspected it was not quite in 
the way that the Judge intended.

"And if I agreed to keep an eye on him," I suggested cautiously.

The Judge nodded slightly as if expecting that I agree to doing even 
more as Phillip's 'role model'. 

"Hmmm,... assuming that a lawyer was able to provide some desirable 
characteristics of a role model, of course," I said flippantly. Someone 
laughed in the back of the room. "I would be able to provide some of the 
discipline and attention for Phillip that this Court believes that he is in 
need of, if that is what is required to get him out of Pierce Hall. However, I 
guess I would need to know the extent of my legal responsibility before I 
agreed to anything."

Again the Judge smiled, this time at the boy sitting next to me. I had 
the unmistakable feeling that they were plotting against me. "I have a 
reputation for unusual solutions, Mr. Young. What I have in mind is a 
temporary joint guardianship of Phillip until he turns sixteen. You would be 
responsible for him for at least the next six years."

"I presume fiscal responsible is implied by that as well, Your Honor."

The Judge leaned forward. "That would have to be your decision. The 
legal responsibility would that of a guardian who is there for him when he 
needs support. Essentially your job be one of making certain that Phillip 
has the appropriate guidance and emotional support. Unless you decided 
otherwise, the costs of raising him would still be his mother's 
responsibility."

"The only problem, Your Honor, would be that the Bradley's are on the 
other side of town. It's at least thirty miles from my place. It would be very 
difficult to provide the kind of support you suggest over the telephone."

He smiled wryly and shrugged. "The Court can hardly request you take the 
Bradleys in as house guests, but I would agree that driving thirty miles 
across town every day could get very tiring."

I nodded. Unless I was very mistaken, the Judge was a boy lover himself! 
Our eyes met and I thought I saw a look of recognition. There was no doubt 
in my mind as his eyes drifted sideways to the boy sitting beside me. He 
looked at Phillip with silent interest, as if mentally undressing me.

"Well," I began slowly, "I do have an apartment next to the garage. It's 
only one bedroom and a small sitting room, but it does have its own 
kitchenette and bathroom. Perhaps I can work something out for them to stay 
there." I paused for effect and then drove the point home. " But considering 
this sudden information about the forthcoming eviction notice that only the 
State's prosecutor seems to know about, I would begin to wonder about a 
conspiracy to force Phillip Bradley to take the stand in the Chalmers' trial."

"Touche," the Judge chuckled. He responded on cue. "What about it, 
counsellor? When did you find out about the eviction notice?"

"A better question might be when was it filed?" I added swiftly.

"Let me ask the questions please, Mr. Young!"

"Uh,... I believe it was filed a few days ago,.... uh,... no,... I 
um,... think it was yesterday."

"As soon as it was possible," I smirked. "Counting the days from the 
notice of Phillip's present hearing," I finished slyly.

"You're suggesting that the State took action to force this Court to 
decide that guardianship of Phillip by his mother was inappropriate?" There 
was a long pause. It was like watching someone turn switches on. "Thereby 
keeping the lad at Pierce Hall until he gave evidence at the Chalmers' trial."

I shrugged, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, although the implication 
was obvious. The Judge had to decide this one and take the appropriate 
stand. "The State has not charged Phillip Bradley in regard to the Chalmers 
arrest?"

"No, Your Honor!"

"Why? Wasn't there evidence of prostitution?" The Judge leaned forward 
on his oak desk and looked directly at the now uncomfortable attorney.

"Uh,... well the evidence apparently indicated,... that there was reason 
to believe,..."

"Answer the question, damn it!" The Judge hesitated and then sat back in 
his chair again. He was becoming increasingly angry. "No, don't waste your 
time! I'm going to presume that there is no evidence that Phillip was in the 
rest-room for an indecent act. He's already told me why he was there and I 
have no reason to disbelieve him. He's not on trial for that anyway because he 
hasn't been charged. It sounds as though the State has been using pressure 
tactics on a minor to force him to take the stand. I will NOT, AND I MEAN N-O-
T PUT UP WITH THIS! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?" he bellowed.

He half-closed his eyes and shook his head. There was a period of 
several long seconds. The sound of a pin dropping would have echoed through 
the stunned room.

"Never before,... not during my ten years in Juvenile Court have 
I,..." He stopped, thoughtfully musing on his options. "I am not going to 
lecture you on due process. Nor am I going to impose sanctions. It is the 
decision of this Court that Phillip Bradley be released immediately into the 
joint custody of his mother and Mr. Young!"

I stifled the peal of laughter that threatened to break from my 
throat. He was just getting warmed up. We were two boylovers united with a 
common purpose, Phillip's freedom and future happiness!

"Any effort to compel Phillip Bradley to appear in the Chalmers' trial 
is herewith estopped. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" He paused and then continued. "If 
I hear that he is subpoenaed, I will hold you in contempt. Not only has due 
process been violated here, but a minor's rights have been shockingly 
violated. In fact, I would not be surprised if Mr. Young filed suit for his 
client and even brought ethics charges against you! I'm sorely tempted to 
impose sanctions myself!"

Silence settled on the Court like a wet blanket. I could feel 
Phillip's shoulder trembling as he worried that the anger was displayed at 
him. He did not grasp the significance of what had occurred and would not 
until I explained it to him later.

"Judgment is entered accordingly! Mr. Young, I want to see you in 
chambers, forthwith. Be there in two minutes!"

The Judge rose. His black robe flowed as he walked from behind the bench 
and disappeared into the open doorway that led to his inner sanctum. I glanced 
down at Phillip. He was trembling as if he was going to break into tears. I 
was surprised. It seemed to me that he should be incredibly happy because I 
certainly was. I leaned down towards him.

"I have to go to see the judge for a few minutes so wait here with 
your mom. I'll be right back."

"Do I have to go back to that place?" he asked.

"No!" I grinned at him. "But the Judge said that you have to live at 
my place for a while. At least until we can find somewhere else for you and 
your mom to live if you don't like it there."

Tears turned to a beaming smile that spread across his face until he was 
consumed with happiness. The change was nothing short of a miracle. For the 
first time I noticed the brilliant white of his teeth. He could do commercials 
for toothpaste and not need an artificial sparkle. A shiver of excitement 
ran through as I imagined pressing my tongue between his full lips and 
touching his soft wet tongue before pushing into the cavern of his mouth. I 
hoped he liked to kiss for he certainly had the lips for it. I wanted to 
tell him he was sexy when he smiled but the proximity of his mother made me 
settle for an affectionate brush of my hand through his dark locks. 
Triumphantly, I strode from the courtroom to my assignment with the Judge. I 
had not suspected when I accepted the case, or even after meeting my young 
client that I was to become Phillip's benefactor, legal guardian, and 
hopefully his lover.



"Come in," the Judge answered as I knocked the scarred panels of a once-
grand oak door.

He followed me closely as I walked across to the upholstered leather 
chair before his massive desk. There was little comfort in the hard seat but 
it was intended to put its occupant at unrest. I studied him as we looked at 
each other. Up close, I thought he looked familiar but for the life of me, I 
could not place where I had seen him.

"He sure is one hell of a pretty boy, that Phillip, isn't he?" he 
smirked. "He has a gorgeous mouth. I wouldn't mind him sucking on my cock, 
that's for sure. You're a very lucky man, Mr. Young."

My mouth opened for a moment before I hastily closed it. "Uh,... my 
client,"

"Oh! For God's sake man, he's got faggot written all over him. You'll 
make him very happy. Once you get him in bed, he'll make you happy too, mark 
my words."

"Phillip is a beautiful boy," I acknowledged uncertainly while 
avoiding the candid observations of the other man about my sexual proclivities 
with under-aged boys. "I'm not certain about the rest of it."

"He's far too beautiful to be a boy, especially with those big sexy eyes 
of his. They just about melted my heart." The Judge laughed again. "Unless I'm 
very mistaken, he's going to keep you very busy and not just with blow jobs 
either."

"Uh, Your Honor,... I'm not certain that,..."

He laughed again. "I guarantee he'll suck you dry, turn around, and back 
up for more once he gets used to having your cock in his butt. Of course given 
his age it might take a few weeks." He paused and grinned crudely as he 
imagined the act of intercourse with a ten-year-old boy. "You know next time 
you stay at the Camillo, you should be more circumspect with the boys you take 
up to your bedroom. I know of at least one twelve-year-old you had in your 
room two years ago who could ruin you."

I swallowed. "I,... er,... I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm not certain of his name, but he had an ass that looked like it 
had been used all night. Wide open just about all the time, he probably 
never had a pucker from the time he turned eight. Now, let me think. If I 
remember correctly, his name was Juan, wasn't it? He was a horny little fucker 
too. Between the two of us I was surprised he could still walk. His ass was so 
stretched the sperm would run down his legs afterwards." The judge smirked 
at me knowingly. "And we both filled him up back there, didn't we?"

I had a mental image of Juan. Dark skin, dark hair, a sombre boy who 
took my penis into his rectum without complaint or joy. He did it because it 
was expected of him. It was a job, a means of subsisting without a mother or 
father, a way of living that few people appreciated. For a boylover who was 
denied an outlet for his passion in his own country, it was both fortunate and 
cost effective. He was no different to the many hundreds of other boys who 
frequented the rooms of American tourists in Southern Mexican hotels.

I smiled slightly. "Not from me it didn't," I said slyly.

"That sounds like a lie. It certainly isn't what Juan told me," the 
Judge admonished. "He said,... well it doesn't matter what he said, one look 
at the DNA from the semen in his ass would be prima facie evidence for a 
sodomy conviction."

My smile widened. "I don't get much fun out of playing Russian 
Roulette."

"Oh, I see! You used a rubber," the Judge laughed. "That's probably a 
very good idea with those boys. Only,..."

"Only what?" I asked.

"The first time I got him in bed, well,..." the Judge smirked, "he still 
had a man-sized load up his pretty brown butt. And if I think back, I'm almost 
positive I saw him hanging around with you earlier that day."

"It definitely wasn't mine," I grinned. "But young Juan was pretty busy. 
I always make a point of taking a few boxes of condoms with me when I go 
down there."

"Well you won't have to do that with young Bradley." He sat back and 
smiled. The corners of his eyes crinkled.

"Uh,..." I swallowed. He had spoken my thoughts aloud. "I don't think 
that will happen. I don't think he's like that," I added.

"I am," the Judge said confidently. "I must get a boy like him on my 
docket about every other month. Usually they're brought in here after 
they're arrested for prostitution. You'd be surprised many queer kids get 
started by sucking men's cocks in public toilets. All said, its a pretty sad 
state of affairs for a boy to come out of the closet like that. They may start 
off sucking but they all lose their cherries sooner or later. It's just a 
matter of time for Phillip."

I nodded in agreement. What happened to Phillip was no worse than the 
fate that awaited the Mexican boys who frequented the seedier hotels and 
even some of the better ones. I did not voice my concern. "I guess," I said 
obliquely.

"I must say, however, that this is the first time I have been able to 
give a young queer what he really wants,... and needs. You're a lucky man, Mr. 
Young. You have a treasure in that boy. And unless I'm very much mistaken, 
he's already developed quite an attachment to you. You ought to have several 
good years with him before he grows up. I suspect you're a lot like me. I 
really don't like my boys to have big hairy dicks."

"How can I thank you?" I asked. I doubted my sincerity as the words came 
out. It was difficult to find myself suddenly in debt to a judge because of 
a boy. I knew with certainty that there would eventually be a time when the 
debt was called in.

"You can't," the Judge replied. "Just love him, that's all. I've seen 
too many gay boys pass through my courtroom and I've never had the chance to 
really help them. I want next few years of Phillip's life to be happy ones. 
A sore butt is a small price to pay for what you can offer him. Well, he's 
waiting outside for you. What are you waiting for?"



Phillip and his mother had already left the courtroom when I emerged 
from the Judge's chambers. I found them waiting in the hall. Happiness was 
evident in Phillip's joy-filled face but not in his posture as he reclined 
against the dark oak wainscoting. I grinned at him as I came up. Then suddenly 
I realized that his casual stance reflected his newly found freedom. He was 
more relaxed than at any time I had seen him. He was a different boy to the 
high-strung youngster I had interviewed at Pierce Hall. He beamed at me. The 
Judge's words had either sunk in or finally been explained to him by his 
mother.

"Hi!" he exclaimed.

"Hi yourself!" I replied.

I smiled at his mother and wondered what was going through her mind as 
she confronted me with her suspicious eyes. After what she had heard in the 
courtroom, she would have few doubts about her son's innocence. He was no 
longer the chaste little boy. There was no doubt that he had been sexually 
active with a grown man.

"I don't have to go back to Pierce Hall again, do I?" Phillip asked 
uncertainly. "And I don't have to be a witness?"

"No more Pierce Hall, not now and never again. You're free to go! And no 
more court appearances for you either, Phillip. You're finished with all 
that."

"Mom said," he began and then stopped with a sideways glance at the 
woman beside him. Like her son, she was a slender woman. She had a small 
slender body that seemed almost that of a boy, albeit larger than her son 
and to my eyes, of far less beauty.

"What you said,... about Phillip and me,... about me being your house 
cleaner,... did you mean it?" she asked nervously.

"The job is yours if you want it, Ms. Bradley," I answered. "You don't 
have to say yes, but I do need someone to clean up my mess."

"That's nice of you. The other thing you said,.... about us living there 
with you,... did you mean that too?"

I smiled at Phillip, recognizing that he was waiting eagerly for my 
answer. I let him wait for a few more seconds. "Yes," I laughed as we made eye 
contact. "If you and your mom want to move into the apartment, it's okay by 
me."

Kathleen glanced quickly at Phillip from the corner of her eye. She 
shrugged nonchalantly. "It would be a bit awkward for us with only one 
bedroom."

"Hmmm,..." I mused. "Unless I'm mistaken the couch in the living room 
converts to a bed. Let's not worry about the sleeping arrangements until 
you've seen the place. How about we drive out there now and you can have a 
look?"

"Can we Mom?" Phillip asked happily.

"Uh?... Yeah,... I guess so,..." she answered thoughtfully. "It sounds 
as though we're going to have to find somewhere else to live in the near 
future anyway."

I chuckled as I watched Phillip's effervescent enthusiasm grow with 
every minute until he was literally bubbling with excitement. His big blue 
eyes sparkled as he grinned broadly. It was wonderful to see the torment and 
sadness evaporate as he anticipated what lay before him. At the same time I 
had a peculiar sense of deja vu, that the quick glances that he shared with 
his mother had a hidden meaning that somehow involved me.

We walked out of the building together. My "fun" car, a 1960 Jaguar 
XK150 with a 3.8 liter six-cylinder twin-cam engine, was parked only a few 
spaces from the front entry to the Courthouse. In more than a dozen years, 
it was the closest parking space I had found. The meter clicked to 0:00 as 
we walked up. A police officer was two cars away and moving rapidly towards 
the now-expired meter. He shrugged as his intended victim escaped. In more 
ways than one, this was turning out to be my lucky day.

"Man, this is truly awesome," Phillip enthused as he studied the 
bright red sports car.

The snout of the XK150 was extended several feet further than the engine 
required and gave an aura of power that exceeded the available horsepower. 
It was hardly a fast car by modern standards but it was a classic in every 
sense of the word. The wire wheels sparkled just like the day the car first 
left the factory in Coventry. It was a car for an automobile aficionado.

"Its incredible. I've never seen anything like this before. How fast 
does it go?" he continued as he stroked the front wheel arch lovingly with his 
fingertips. He was afraid of marring the lacquered sheen of the painted metal. 

"God knows!" I replied. "I've had it to 100 and the pedal was only about 
halfway down. With a car like this, you usually don't drive it too fast."

"Cool! Hey look at the dash! Man, this is way cool!"

I glanced at his mother and she returned a wry smile. I could tell 
that I had another devotee standing beside me. Her dark-headed angel danced 
around my car. He was so full of jubilant life that I could barely take my 
eyes away from him.

"If it's okay with you, maybe Phillip could ride in my car?" I 
suggested.

"I'm sure he'd like to. I guess if you waited here until I got my car 
from the lot," she said as she gestured to the parking area across the road, 
"I could follow you."

I opened the low-slung door and Phillip sat in the driver's seat and 
pretended that he was a race car driver. He needed only a cloth cap, scarf, 
and driving gloves to look the part of a young English lord on his way to 
cricket or rugby. It was a pity that he could barely see over the dashboard. I 
wished that I had a camera to capture the essence of boyhood. He made engine 
sounds, somewhere between the garbled cry of a crow and the purr of a 
kitten. I leaned over the door and placed the key in the ignition. My hand 
brushed his bare knee as I reached for the gearstick and made sure that it was 
in neutral. It was never a good idea to start a car without the clutch 
depressed but this was important.

"Go ahead and start it."

"Me? You want me to start it?"

"You might as well warm it up," I suggested. "Just don't take off down 
the block or that cop might take you down to Pierce Hall again for grand-theft 
auto."

Phillip gave me a dazzling smile and shook his head. "What do I do?"

"Turn the key. You'll hear the engine crank and when it starts let the 
key go."

I waited for the sound of metal grating as the starter ate the cogs 
out of the flywheel. Phillip tentatively touched the key and then his 
fingers closed around it. He stole a quick glance up at me to make certain 
that he was doing it properly. His fingers twisted. He jumped, letting it go 
as the starter cranked and the engine gurgled. I nodded reassuringly. He 
needed the boost to his self confidence and self esteem. He tried again. 
This time his hand was shaking nervously.

Even though he let the key go a second or two later it was long 
enough. The engine coughed, spluttered, and settled down to steady throaty 
growl.

"Give it a bit of gas," I instructed.

Phillip beamed and struggled to find the pedal at the far end of the 
deep footwell. "I can barely reach the pedals," he complained as he sank low 
in the brown leather seat. His shoe barely touched the gas pedal and the 
engine roared.

Instantly he straightened up in the seat and grasped the steering 
wheel with white knuckles. I started to laugh as I gazed down at the slender 
boy.

"What's so funny?" he demanded.

"You are!" I was surprised by the effect of the last few minutes on both 
his ego and libido. Unless I was very much mistaken, there was a pointed 
little projection in the crotch of his shorts. He was erect. I wondered 
whether he realized what had made itself visibly present. Just the thought 
of it was sufficient to sent my own penis into rapid inflation.

"What's so funny?" Phillip demanded again.

"You have a hard-on," I said quietly. "A stiffie," I added as he 
seemed not to understand. I lowered my voice. "Its sticking up in your 
shorts."

His eyes darted down. He blushed instantly. "Oh!" He glanced downward 
again. His erection was clearly visible as it pushed up into the folded 
cloth of his shorts. "Its always doing that," he admitted as much to himself 
as to me.

"I certainly hope so," I said conspiratorially.

I wondered how big his penis was when it was stiff. The momentary view I 
remembered was of a relatively short organ that was disproportionately thick 
giving it a fatness that belied the slimness of the rest of his body. I had 
often fantasized about its extended appearance. It would be a plump little 
thing, not big enough to give a girl any real pleasure but ideal for a 
boylover. Of course, there was a possibility that it was one of those 
penises that retracted into the groin when it was limp. Perhaps it was 
bigger than I imagined. Judging by the small but prominent bulge between his 
thin thighs, the jury was still out.

My thoughts were rudely interrupted by the sound of a horn. I looked 
up quickly, tearing my eyes away from the concealed object of my desire. 
Kathleen's car swung across the street and stopped just behind mine in a No 
Parking zone. 

"Better move over, Phillip. You might it hard to drive with that thing 
sticking up in your pants. If it gets any bigger you won't be able to see over 
it."

He laughed, rubbed his right hand swiftly over the tented shorts and 
felt the firmness underneath, and raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"It isn't THAT big but anyway I don't know how to drive," he smirked 
cheekily.

"Maybe you can play with junior instead," I teased as I scooted him over 
the transmission hump and into the adjoining seat. I slid into my seat and 
eased the car onto the road before opening the throttle. Nearly forty years 
old, in fact the same age as its driver, the red cat sprang forward with a 
blood-stirring, adrenaline-increasing roar. A few hundred feet further I 
backed off to let Kathleen catch up. My fun was just beginning but there was 
no point in abusing the car. Wire-spoked wheels were inadequate at absorbing 
wheel-spinning power. After that I drove sedately, more a senior citizen going 
to a mall than a lust-crazed boylover escorting a beautiful ten-year-old to 
his house for the first time.

After a few minutes, about the time it took his penis to subside, 
Phillip began to loosen up. He talked incessantly as I negotiated the busy 
roads that afternoon. Then finally we were on the freeway and headed out of 
the city. I opened the throttle up and the wind blew over us, buffeting our 
hair as the speedometer crept past seventy and hovered at the next tick-
mark. Minutes and miles flew by. It was impossible to talk above the roar of 
wind and the noise of the engine. I glanced at him frequently. He was intent 
on enjoying every precious second of the ride as if he was on a roller coaster 
at an amusement park and there was only a minute or two before the vehicle 
stopped. It was good to see him glowing with happiness. 

We were about three miles out of the city when I looked long and hard at 
Phillip again. I noticed that his expression had changed. Gone was the 
carefree youngster, replaced by a morose boy with a sullen face and moody 
eyes. 

"What's up?" I shouted.

He shrugged and looked away. I winced as I worried and wondered what was 
going through his young mind. Physically he was still a young boy. Although 
sexually immature with two or three years before the onset of puberty, 
Phillip's body had begun to awaken to preprogrammed desires. But inside, his 
emotional development lagged behind, as most boys tended to. Just from his 
skittish anxiety I sensed that he was experiencing turmoil. Within the last 
hour, not even considering the three weeks he had spent in Pierce Hall, he had 
been through experiences that would traumatize a much older, more worldly boy. 

Those recent events, unpleasant as they were, paled against the inner 
conflict he would undergo before he accepted his homosexuality. He needed my 
reassurance. He needed to know that he was loved and that my love was even 
stronger because he was gay. He needed to know that the sudden change that had 
entered into his life, was permanent if that was what he really wanted. He 
needed to know that the brief moment of instinctive desire he felt in the 
men's rest-room was not something he should be ashamed of, that his self-
loathing was something that would not happen again if I had anything to say 
about it. I casually moved my hand to the side, towards Phillip. I touched his 
leg just above his bare knee, an inch or two below the hem of his shorts. My 
fingertips grazed the brown skin of his roughened slightly scarred knee, a 
clear sign that he was boy. After a moment my hand slowly drifted around to 
rub beneath. There, the skin was much softer, and warm with a clammy 
moistness. He seemed to be frozen, barely breathing as I stroked him gently. I 
reduced speed and watched the needle drop slowly to just over sixty. The 
wind noise abated.

"It's okay!" I said. "It's all over and done with. You're with me now."

Phillip turned. Despite the continuing noise he had heard every word. He 
breathed out slowly and a faint smile appeared as his lips parted. 

"You promise?" he asked.

"You heard the Judge. He said I had to be your guardian until you turned 
sixteen."

"Yeah, I heard. But,..." He hesitated. "It doesn't mean shit!"

"What do you mean?" 

"It doesn't mean anything. All you have to do it make sure I stay out of 
trouble."

"Like staying out of mall rest-rooms?" I suggested.

"I s'pose. You can't stop me from doing that. If I want to. I can go 
wherever I want," he threatened. "You can't watch me every minute of the day."

"I know. I guess I'll have to keep you beside me all the time then." I 
glanced in the mirror. His mother was several hundred yards behind us. "Of 
course, if I keep junior happy, maybe you won't need to go back to the mall 
again, will you?"

Phillip's head jerked as he swivelled to look at me. "You mean,..."

"Of course that's what I mean, you dummy." I grinned. "I'm not only your 
legal guardian. I'm going to guard this with my life," I added as my hand 
settled over his groin and squeezed playfully. "If you want, we can be 
together from now on. You won't have to go back to the rest-room again. Unless 
you want to of course."

He blinked in shock. His eyes fluttered and I thought I could see 
tears against the pearly orbs of his eyes. His eyes closed, silently crying 
behind his translucent lids.

"I like you," he said slowly. "I,... don't want to go back there. I only 
went to find you. That other guy,... I couldn't help it. I wanted him to be 
you so badly. I nearly forgot what you looked like. Only I knew you were older 
so I pretended,..."

He sank into thoughtful silence, barely aware that my hand was 
lovingly caressing his crotch. No longer erect, and sheltered by both shorts 
and underpants, I could feel little of his sex organs other than a warm 
softness beneath my fingers and the slightly firmer roundess of his tiny 
glans. I interrupted his melancholy calm.

"I like you too, Phillip. I'm glad I finally met you again. I thought 
about you all the time. When the judge said I could be your guardian, I had to 
stop myself from doing cartwheels down the aisle."

Phillip grinned. "You're kinda old to be doing cartwheels," he 
admonished.

"Old is a state of mind, junior. That's why my last name is Young," I 
rebuked playfully. "And another thing, men who like boys tend to be young at 
heart. They do things that most grown-ups wouldn't do. Like this." I 
squeezed his penis through his shorts, paying particularly attention to the 
end where I knew it was the most sensitive. Phillip jumped slightly and 
partially closed his knees before relaxing back into the seat. His knees 
parted again, this time even further apart. It was a clear sign of his 
willingness to continue.

Phillip looked about him with guilty eyes, decided that there was enough 
privacy in the car, and smiled shyly. "You can,... if you want," he offered. 
He glanced down at my trespassing hand. "Anything you want," he added quietly

"I can,... do anything I want?"

He nodded. He took a quick breath before his lips pursed and then opened 
slightly as his pink tongue pushed through to lick away the dryness. It was 
a very simple act that was also very erotic.

"So long as you don't have a car wreck," he giggled.

"That eliminates a few things if I have to keep my eyes on the road 
and at least one hand on the wheel," I joked.

"You only need one hand," Phillip giggled. His eyes sparkled brightly as 
he enjoyed his first sexual innuendo. "To drive with," he added after a 
moment.

"Yeah right!" I squeezed on his little mound lovingly. 

Sill limp, the form of his penis was barely distinguishable. Again I was 
reminded by the stubby little penis I first observed in the mall rest-room. 
Had I been mistaken when I thought he was circumcised? There seemed to be 
mostly glans sitting atop a comparatively short penis. Under the cloth 
covering afforded by his shorts and underpants, I could feel nothing other 
than a soft plump warmth of a very small glans. He certainly was not well 
endowed like some of the Mexican boys I had been with over the years.

Phillip's first soft sigh came as I began to gently fondle him by paying 
deliberate attention to the sensitive tip. He had waited for so long, his mind 
in chaos as he grappled with his emerging desires. Like me, he had only a 
dim memory of a stranger's face for contentment. Like me, his hand had 
rubbed feverishly almost every night as he pictured that face.

"You like that, Phillip?" 

"Hmmmm,...." He sighed again. "You're making my thing get bigger again," 
he said shamelessly.

"I hope so. I like it when a boy enjoys himself. It feels especially 
nice when you have a big thing." I teased him as I felt the stiffness 
gradually increasing beneath my exploring fingers. 

I squeezed the tender little organ as it fattened, speeding it on the 
way to full erection. It was about the size of my thumb in both length and 
width. I placed them side by side, pushing my thumbnail into the soft puppy-
fat flesh over his pubic bone. My two fingers pressed down into the furrows 
between his scrotum and thighs.

"So does the tan go all the way down to your legs?" I asked playfully.

Phillip giggled. "How much is it worth to find out,... for sure?"

"Ten bucks! But not for a peek."

Phillip raised his eyebrows. "You gave me twenty last time, even 
though the bet was for ten. I guess you can look for ten bucks. You want me to 
take my pants off now,... here in the car?"

I shrugged absently. "No one is going to see you,.... except me that 
is and I'm paying to look."

For a few seconds, as Phillip considered my offer, I wondered whether he 
was really interested in the money. The idea that he was really a young 
prostitute had entered my mind several times, not only when I had first met 
him but again, when I heard that he was arrested in the rest-room committing 
an obscene act.

"I don't want the ten bucks, okay? I really didn't want it the first 
time either," he added as if he could read my innermost thoughts.

Without another word, Phillip's hands moved to his waist and deftly 
unfastened the metal clasp. He tugged the brass zipper down with a few jerks 
and then lifted his hips upward as he wriggled out of the tight blue denim. In 
a flash his shorts were mid way down his long slender thighs. He was not as 
brown as I remembered, but he had spent the last three weeks out of the sun. 
His underpants were plain white jockeys and I made an immediate decision to 
change that part of his attire as soon as possible. Still, I did not have to 
wait more than a few seconds before the white cloth was lifted to the side 
furthest from me. I gazed at Phillip junior for more time than was safe at 
sixty miles away. Whoever first coined the expressions 'treasure' and 
'family jewels' for a young boy's genitals could not have found a more 
accurate description for the sight that greeted me and held me enraptured.

What beauty! A ten-year-old boy's sex organs are true perfection in 
every sense of the word. Phillip's groin was without even a trace of soft 
downy fuzz and his testicles were still very small, free from the sudden 
growth that predicts puberty. They hung close to his body despite the fact 
that the scrotum was fully relaxed. The translucent silken skin formed thin 
delicate folds that were marbled by minute veins. What I observed of his 
maleness proved that first impressions were usually accurate even when they 
were the result of quick glimpses. Like me, Phillip was circumcised, but on 
his small appendage the scar from the operation was a joy to behold. It 
encircled the flared ridge of his turgid crimson glans and was pulled so 
tightly that the darker skin was burnished. With luck, it would bunch up 
behind the rounded head when his erection diminished and partially cover the 
lip reminiscent of delicately woven lace. I was reminded of a lollipop--
Phillip's penis was an "all-day-sucker".

"Can I touch it?" I asked. The nervous tremor in my voice was 
unmistakable. 

He giggled as his knees parted further, his offering made words 
unnecessary. He had spent many long nights dreaming of this moment once he had 
discovered the other important role of his boy-sized penis. Now he was about 
to begin the process of discovery again as he found out how much pleasure 
his body could give to another person.

My fingertips brushed over his lower belly, slightly trembling as they 
neared the sacred paler region of his groin. My finger touched his moist heat, 
tentatively stroking the junction of his penis and pubis. A soft sigh 
escaped his lips and my fingers were lured forward and onto the hot short 
shaft. Again, the boy-siren sighed and his penis flexed hungrily under my 
roving fingers. The heat seemed to flow into my hand, the entire energy of his 
body concentrated in three, very-throbbing inches of living flesh.

"Mmmmmm,..." Phillip moaned. His eyes were nearly closed in joyful bliss 
and his lips parted as he breathed deeply. "I wanted you so much."

"I'm here now, and from now on," I answered urgently as my heart began 
to beat faster from the thrill of touching his sacred flesh and the 
knowledge that he was giving himself to me.

My fingers slipped around the hard stalk until it was under my palm 
and my fingers pressed into the folds of his scrotum. His testicles felt 
even smaller than they looked. Each tiny marble-sized egg rolled under my 
probing fingers, escaping to the sides before I encircled them and brought 
them back to where I could exert the playful pressure that elicited moan after 
moan of unparalleled boy-pleasure.

"That feels soooooo good," Phillip purred contentedly. "I could do 
this all day long. It never feels this good when I do it myself," he added 
self-consciously.

"Can you climax yet?" I asked.

"Huh?"

"Can you get white stuff to come out of him?" I explained.

He shook his head. "The guy I met at the mall, the doctor,... he said 
I was probably going to mature in a few years. Most kids my age can't do it. 
You have to be mature before you can cum, you know," he added expertly.

"Oh!" I teased. "Well there's certainly no rush. I love you just the way 
you are."

The words, my words, came back to me in a rush. I had just told a ten-
year-old boy, the boy sitting only a few inches away, the boy whose penis 
was lying happily and securely under my gently caressing hand, I loved him. It 
was true. There was no response from Phillip. It was as if he did not hear 
my first words of endearment, so enraptured was he by my loving stimulation of 
his pre-teen genitals.

Four miles, little more than four minutes later, we exited the freeway 
and turned south on Highland Boulevard. With only a dividing line between us 
and oncoming vehicles, further exploration and pleasuring of Phillip's body 
was impossible. He straightened his front, covering his bare crotch with his 
shorts and underpants although leaving his zipper open for the occasional feel 
should the opportunity arise. The chance to touch him briefly did arise 
several times although there was no need for Phillip to rise to each occasion. 
Oh to be young again--the little wretch stayed as hard as steel the entire 
time.

Finally we cleared the last of the traffic. The next two miles were on 
winding roads through woods and open meadows, precisely the type of driving 
that the XK150 relished. We motored slowly, enjoying the wind in our hair 
and the moist heat that emanated from Phillip's groin. The sun danced across 
his bare pale skin as the trees passed overhead. It was a perfect day with a 
bright blue sky that heralded the onset on warmer weather as a front 
approached driving the previous days clouds into the east.

I slowed down as we approached the turnoff, taking my hand away from 
my new friend only to change to second gear. His small organ was still 
stiff, it had been the same way since we were on the freeway. Still, the 
tiny slit was bone dry, unlike my own rigid penis that was excreting copious 
amounts of pre-seminal fluid in my underpants.

"You better put junior away now," I teased.

He grinned cheekily, was about to ask why and thought the better of 
it. I smiled sideways at Phillip as I watched his small hands drag the front 
of his underpants up to cover his erection. As the last of the white cotton 
disappeared under the blue denim of his shorts I quickly lost interest and 
turned my attention back to negotiating the bends in the road with two hands 
on the wheel. He sat back, absorbing the sights of abundant nature. I imagined 
momentarily the place that he had called home in the Wildwood Trailer Park. 
Certainly, there would be no wild woods in that part of town, at least not the 
virgin forest that lay on both sides of the road as I entered my property. 
There would be endless rows of trailers, no further apart than the width of 
a car. It was a sad way to grow up, but especially for a boy with Phillip's 
charm and beauty.

My house was set well back from the road and was impossible to see. 
Few visitors ever noticed the carefully placed camera that recorded their 
entry to 10450 Sanford Lane. Like foreplay, the road twisted back and forth 
and provided glimpses of the white-stuccoed brick and glass cube among the 
trees. Then the road made a final twist, crossed the creek, and terminated 
behind the garage in a large circle, its center identified by a splashing 
fountain complete with a naked Cupid that the thoughtful architect had 
imported from Italy.

"Awe....some...." Phillip breathed out. His excitement had been building 
as we approached but he was totally unprepared for the sight that greeted him. 
"You live HERE?"

"Uh huh!" I admitted with pride.

There was only one problem with the house--I had been living there 
alone. It was a house that needed to be shared with someone else, ideally 
(at least in my mind) with a boy like Phillip. Without the presence of a 
rambunctious boy, the house was like a private art gallery. It needed 
Phillip's energy.

"This is cool!" He gazed around, taking in the woods and the motor 
court, then ogling the pristine modernist forms of the house. "You own 
this?" he asked in disbelief.

I shrugged and turned to meet his mother as she walked up to us. "You 
have a beautiful house," she acknowledged. "I didn't believe my eyes when I 
followed you up the drive. I felt like I was going through one of those 
Federal parks like down in the Smokies."

I smiled. "I bought it a few years ago from a real estate developer 
who was in some financial trouble at the time. It was a steal at the time. 
Well, come inside and look at the apartment," I offered.

I led the way with Phillip close on my heels. The apartment had a 
musty smell from being closed up for nearly four years. I had no need of a 
full-time maid and until now I had relied on a cleaning service that came once 
per week. I made a mental note to cancel the service if Kathleen worked out. I 
had no doubts about Phillip working out, it was his mother that I was 
worried about. However, as I discovered only a few seconds later, my fears 
were unfounded. 

"Phillip, what do you think? It's nice isn't it. But you know, if we 
moved in here it would mean you would have to change schools and all. You 
wouldn't be able to see your friends," she said.

"That's okay, Mom," he replied as he turned towards her, "I really 
love it here. I want to live here with Mr. Young."

She smirked as her eyes came to her son's middle. "Your fly is open, 
son."

"My wh.... Oh!" Phillip blushed crimson down the length of his slender 
neck.

"I can't imagine why it's open. You haven't been to the bathroom since 
we went into the courtroom," Kathleen laughed at her son's discomfiture.

Phillip's shame grew, his blush extending swiftly all the way to the 
tips of his delicately sculpted ears. "Well, I guess boys will be boys won't 
they, Mr. Young?" she added teasingly. "There's no reason not to display the 
merchandise."

I smiled weakly as I wondered what she suspected. Clearly she was 
alluding to Phillip's visit to the mall rest-room with her latter comment 
but the emphasis on the first sentence had been very deliberate. I sensed that 
she knew exactly why Phillip's zipper had been open. 

"I guess." I answered circumspectly.

"Why don't you look around outside for a while, Phillip," Kathleen said. 
"I'd like to talk to Mr. Young about a few things."

"Mom,..." Phillip whined.

For an instant he met his mother's eyes, observed that her statement was 
anything but a suggestion that he absent himself, and obediently departed with 
a casual shrug of his shoulders as he passed by me.

Kathleen waited until Phillip was outside and out of hearing. "He's 
growing up so fast. God, he can be such a handful. You know sometimes I 
don't know what to do with him. I want him to have the chances that I didn't 
have at his age."

I nodded. "A boy like Phillip deserves the best."

"The best? I'd settle for something better than living in a god-damn 
trailer. I've ruined my life but I don't want to ruin his as well."

"He's turning out okay," I said. "I don't think a parent could ask for a 
much more that a kid like Phillip, the incident in the mall rest-room aside. 
Every kid makes some mistakes growing up."

She smiled wryly. "There aren't many opportunities in Emerson. And 
even when an opportunity does comes up, sometimes you can't always take it."

"I guess that's true of most places, Kathleen. You have to take risks 
wherever you are," I answered carefully. "The question is whether the risk 
is worth the return. And sometimes you may not always know what the reward 
is going to be."

Kathleen hesitated and stepped back towards the wide expanse of glass of 
the window wall. She turned away as she looked towards the view. Even the 
apartment had a view of the woods that was superb. "Phillip's queer isn't he?"

"Er,... Um,... well,... he might be," I muttered.

"If he isn't already, then he's going to be sooner or later, isn't 
he?" she continued emphatically as if she already knew the answer.

"Maybe. It's hard to tell at his age," I hedged. I tried to counter my 
true feelings. "A lot of boys go through a stage when they are interested in 
their own sex. It's called latent homosexuality or something. I don't think 
that you could be sure if he likes boys more than girls for at least a few 
more years."

"When a ten-year-old boy goes into public toilets looking for men, I 
think his sexual inclinations are pretty straightforward, don't you?" Kathleen 
answered bitchily.

"Phillip can't help what he feels inside," I responded testily. "Just 
the same as either of us can't help what we feel inside. We are what we are."

"And you're a god-damn boy lover!" she retorted. "Why don't you admit 
it? You're after my son. I can tell just from the look on your face. I don't 
have to be a fancy lawyer to know what you were doing to him in your car. I 
guess I should be happy his cock wasn't still sticking out." 

I shrugged nonchalantly. There was no point in denying it. For several 
long seconds we faced each other in deafening silence. 

"I'm sorry," Kathleen began awkwardly. "I,... I don't know what I'm 
trying to say. I realize that you're trying to help us as well." She shook her 
head abruptly and took a deep breath as she decided. "I guess what I want to 
say is this. Phillip needs you, okay. You can give him things that he could 
only dream about otherwise. If the price he pays for that is sleeping with 
you, well maybe it isn't that high a price. I can't bear the thought of him 
being hurt, that's all. If he ends up being gay, I really don't care that 
much. From what I've seen so far, meeting you might be even be the best 
thing that happens to him."

"I do understand," I said meekly. "Over the last two days I've become 
very fond of Phillip. I'd never do anything to hurt him."

"But you do want to sleep with my son, don't you Mr. Young?" She asked 
the question without contempt and her sudden matter-of-fact attitude took me 
by surprise.

"He's a beautiful boy and I have a real place for him in my heart." I 
could not tell his mother that I loved him. I took a deep breath. "If the 
opportunity ever arose, it would be hard to say no."

Somewhere in the house a telephone rang. I studied Kathleen and observed 
indecision on her face before she looked away out into the woods. When she 
spoke her voice was no longer tense. I was reminded of a person talking 
about a dream but it was not a fantasy created by her mind.

"This isn't the first time I've been here, Mr. Young," she began softly. 
"I came to this house eleven years ago when it was just finished."

I swallowed as my brain was jolted, facts and thoughts colliding in a 
helter-skelter of unexpected information. I had no reason to think she was 
lying. I waited.

"I was only a few years older than Phillip. God, I wasn't even fifteen."

"You knew Chuck Lawson?" I asked uncertainly.

"Knew him? You might say that. He was the first man I slept with. I lost 
my virginity in his bedroom, the one overlooking the pool."

I nodded. I knew that bedroom well. It was the same place where I 
dreamed of making love to Kathleen's ten-year-old son.

"He brought me here one time when his wife was in the Caribbean or 
somewhere. God only knows why I came. At the time I thought we loved each 
other. He was good-looking, I guess, and with his money, I was swept away. I 
really thought I was in love with him." She sighed loudly and coughed slightly 
to clear her throat. "He wasn't very good in bed, maybe that was why he went 
for girls. His damned tool wasn't even that big but he certainly made a big 
deal about it. He got me drunk on champagne and then he fucked me until I 
was sore."

Her hair glistened in the afternoon sun. She was not nearly as dark as 
Phillip, and it would have been lighter in color twelve years ago. She would 
have been a stunningly beautiful girl, and like her son, probably looked 
younger several years than her age. If it was not for my predilection for 
boys, particularly for her son, I would have been very interested. She was a 
beautiful woman at 26.

"Lawson is a hypocrite of the highest order," I said absently, my eyes 
following Phillip as he ambled through the trees towards the creek. For a 
few seconds I fantasized, imagining him naked and in his primal state not 
unlike a young Indian boy. With his late spring tan he certainly had the 
skin coloring to be mistaken for a native. There was more than enough 
privacy for him to be able to go without clothes whenever he wanted. I 
looked forward to the heat of summer when he would be a delicious golden brown 
all the way from head to toe.

"Hypocrite? Yes, he is! He was too damned righteous to let me get an 
abortion, but not moral enough to stop himself from fucking the hell out of 
a fourteen year old." She shook her head angrily. "He paid me to have his 
baby, at least I should say that he paid my mother. Of course, with his wife 
back in town, I didn't get to see him very often. By the time she left for her 
next trip, I was no longer the cute kid. I had a huge belly and bastard lost 
interest in me."

I nodded understandingly, thinking of Phillip as a baby being inside the 
womb of this still slender young woman. Phillip was Lawson's son? He had 
even been conceived in my bedroom. Somewhere, someone had to be laughing.

"Some men can be pigs," I admitted. "We aren't all the same. Phillip 
is important to me, Kathleen. I want you to know that. I intend to do the 
right thing by him."

She turned slightly and regarded me thoughtfully. "Lawson even paid 
for Phillip afterwards too, until his divorce that is, and then the money 
ended. Phillip was about four when we had to move to the trailer park. I had 
such wonderful plans for him. I always wanted him to be a doctor or a lawyer 
or something like that when he grew up. I've just about given up hope."

"That's changed now, Kathleen," I said gently. "You have to trust me 
to take care of him. Being a boylover is a lot more than just having sex. 
And if you are worried about his future, it's not a problem. I plan on sending 
Phillip to Wilton Academy, it's a private school a few miles from here. I hear 
its very good."

"Is it a Catholic School?" she asked quickly. I shook my head. "Good! 
I wouldn't give Lawson the satisfaction of sending his son to one." She 
smirked. "In fact, you want to know something?" She didn't wait for me to 
answer her question. "I really shouldn't be all that surprised that Phillip is 
gay. Lawson was bi. He told me why once. When he was a boy one of the 
priests at his molested him. I didn't stop there. After I was pregnant with 
Phillip, he told me he did it with boys as well. It serves him right that 
his own son is queer."

"You hate him that much?" I asked. 

"You don't know the half of it. Before I got pregnant I was a straight-A 
student. I wanted to be a doctor and I ended up in a trailer. I managed to get 
my high-school diploma, but that's all. Maybe I'm wrong, but I blame Lawson 
for the way my life turned out. I was fourteen when he stuck his cock up me. I 
didn't know any better!"

"Does Phillip know who his father is?" I asked nervously. It was not a 
pleasant thought when I considered what I knew about Lawson's background and 
his way of doing business.

"Hardly! And by the way, I be perfectly happy if he never found out 
about the bastard." She laughed nervously. "Actually, I guess Phillip is the 
bastard isn't he? You better answer the telephone," she commented acidly as 
she considered her son's social stigma. "It sounds as if someone is trying 
to reach you. It hasn't stopped ringing since we arrived."

I nodded. I had heard the distant ringing as well, stopping only as 
the recorded message was replayed before it started again.

"I'll be right back. We have to decide where Phillip is going to 
sleep, there's not much room here for him."

Kathleen smiled. "I thought that was a foregone conclusion. He'll 
probably sleep with you, I expect. I guess I really don't have any objections, 
if that is what he wants and I imagine it is. You'll have a hard time 
fucking him if he's in here with me, won't you?"

"Even if he does, we'll still have to make arrangements for when his 
friends visit. There is a spare bedroom next to mine. It has a connecting door 
through the closet," I replied as my enthusiasm was tempered the stark reality 
of public perception. The world was not ready for a man and boy to live 
together openly, even if his mother was openly amenable to the situation. "I 
better go answer the phone before it breaks," I laughed.



I took the call in the hall, watching Phillip gamboling between the 
trees with innocent freedom as he explored his new world. He was quickly 
becoming at ease with his environment, exhibiting an adaptability that only 
children possess. He explored with natural curiosity, each rocky ledge the 
source of momentary fascination before he moved on to the next attraction. 
He could have lived there all of his life.

I picked up the receiver.

"God-damn, answer the phone!" a voice said angrily. "Not the fucking 
message again!"

"Fraid not," I said. "You have a real person this time."

"Young, is that you?"

"Yes! Who is this?"

"Roger Larkin! Judge Larkin! Your were in my courtroom earlier."

"Yes, Your Honor."

"Skip the 'HOnor' crap! Listen, this is important. I'm calling from a 
public telephone outside the building. All hell is about to break loose. The 
Prosecutor has gotten to an Appeals Court Judge. He was in my office with an 
arrest warrant for the kid and a writ from Appeals. It's an order for the 
boy to appear at the trial next week. He was able to get an order for 
Phillip to be returned to Pierce until the trial was over. I had no choice, 
I had to go along. There's nothing I can do at this stage. I can try sanctions 
but it would be a waste."

"Jesus!"

"Look, you have to get Phillip out of town for a few weeks. Once the 
trial is over, he'll be safe. They really aren't interested in prosecuting 
him."

I sighed. Phillip had reached the creek and was dropping pebbles into 
the crystal-clear water. Even from this distance I could see the afternoon sun 
glistening in his dark hair. He was the epitome of boyhood, innocent and 
worry-free. I could not bear the thought of him being returned to Pierce 
Hall and the dull-grey room where I had interviewed him.

"Consider him vanished from the face of the Earth," I said simply. 
"And thanks, Roger. I owe you twice now."

"That's okay! I was beginning to wonder whether you had him in bed 
already," the Judge laughed. "I kept on calling figuring it would probably 
take you about ten minutes or so before you came in his ass."

I laughed despite my panicked thoughts. "Not yet! Give me time to lube 
him up. He's no Juan, at least not yet. Listen, thanks again. I better get 
my ass in gear and get Phillip out of here."

I put the telephone down and stood quietly as I tried to think of the 
best course of action. Getting Phillip out of the state was the first step, 
but what I really needed to do was to take him out of the country. My mind 
spun as I considered the possibilities. Airlines were out of the question. 
Driving was also fraught with hazards because both of my vehicles were 
easily traced and recognizable. I grinned. I knew someone who owed me a favor. 
Talk about poetic justice!



I went back to the maid's apartment and explained the situation to 
Kathleen without telling her my solution. She nodded silently and breathed out 
slowly. 

"It's always the same," she observed dejectedly. "Just when I see the 
light at the end of the tunnel, it's turned off again."

I laughed. "It isn't as bad as that."

"Yes it is. You don't know what it's like to be a single mother and 
poor."

"Phillip can say what happened. The doctor will probably be found 
guilty. At worse, he'll serve a few years if this wasn't his first offence," I 
said slowly.

"And then what about my son?" Kathleen groaned. "He's feeling bad enough 
about this mess already. To have to tell other people that he wanted a man 
to play with his penis, that he wanted the man to suck his penis, what is that 
going to do to him?"

"There's only one solution," I suggested carefully. "Phillip has to 
disappear until the trial is over."

"I can take him to his Aunt's house. She lives in Georgia! He'll be safe 
there."

"They'll look there, Kathleen. The Prosecutor is out to get a conviction 
and I've seen him in action. The guy is anal! No one can know where he is!"

"I can take him somewhere else where they can't find him!" Kathleen 
protested.

I shook my head. "If you knew the Prosecutor, you'd understand. All he 
has to do is contact the FBI and report Phillip as being an important 
witness who was kidnapped and there will be a national alert. He's not above 
doing that!"

"Then what?"

"I have an idea." I smiled smugly. "However, you'll have to trust me. 
I can't tell you what I have in mind. I'll bring Phillip back in two or 
three weeks. Until then, you won't know where he is."

Kathleen shook her head abruptly. "No! Maybe I like you and I think 
you'll be good for Phillip. The thought of you fucking him doesn't even bother 
me that much. But for you to be alone with him for two or three weeks? Maybe I 
do have some trust in you but not that much. Why can't I go with you?"

I shrugged. "You could, I guess. But I need someone here to keep an 
eye on things. I'll behave myself, if that's what you are worried about," I 
suggested playfully. "I'll bring him back in as good a condition as I got him. 
You have my promise on it."

"I'm not worried about that. I expect you will have sex with my son 
sooner or later. Phillip can lose his virginity here or somewhere else. I'm 
not that naive! If you were playing with his cock in the car, as I'm certain 
you were, the rest of it will follow. Even losing his cherry, or whatever 
you call it when a boy is fucked for the first time, probably isn't that far 
off."

I smiled and wondered how correct her observations were. Only time would 
tell.

"Remember what I said, Kathleen. Boylove is a lot more than just 
having sex."

She smiled but gave me a look of exasperation. She knew what I was 
thinking. The untouched treasure concealed between Phillip's small buttocks 
was waiting to be plundered and we both knew I was going to be the pirate.

"Just be gentle with him," she said softly. "I suppose I'll have to 
trust you, won't I? There is nothing else I can do."

"Not really," I answered absently. "You have to trust me, I guess." I 
wondered what was going through her mind.

"He's growing up so fast," she added softly. She shook her head as if 
denying what she knew already. "He's going to be gay, I know he is. It'll be 
like a honeymoon, won't it? Just the two of you, alone," she added 
sarcastically.

I smiled. I had not thought of it quite like that. "In a way. I expect 
we'll have sex, Kathleen," I admitted.

"The thought of the two of you exchanging body fluids really doesn't 
bother me, you know," she smiled. "I suppose I'm beyond worrying about him."

I raised my eyebrows questioningly. What did she know that I 
apparently did not know? "From what I saw in the car, it's going to be a one-
way exchange for a for more years," I said obscurely.

"Uh? What? One-way?" She giggled. "You mean,... I thought,... isn't 
he,... well you know, sexually mature?"

I shook my head. "I seriously doubt it. His balls haven't dropped yet 
and there isn't a hair on him down there."

She smirked. "My son the little sex maniac! I found stains on his sheets 
so I thought,... he was but I guess I was wrong. He had a friend sleep over 
a few days earlier so,..."

"Boys will be boys," I laughed. "They experiment together. If one boy 
can shoot, you can be pretty sure he demonstrates his skill to his friends. At 
Phillip's age, if one boy can produce semen its likely to be a major social 
event."

Kathleen smiled. "But if Phillip isn't mature, does that mean, well that 
he won't want to have sex yet?" she asked hopefully.

I shrugged nonchalantly. "Having semen and having sex aren't necessarily 
related. But if he's playing around with his friends it's probably a good 
indication that he's ready to go further."

"Then I expect he'll certainly want to go further with you," Kathleen 
teased. "Personally, I can't blame him. I'd sleep with you myself, if you were 
interested. It's a pity I'm not a boy."

I nodded happily, cognizant that I had if not her full support, at least 
an approval in principle to me becoming her son's lover. I went outside to 
find Phillip. I was about to become a magician and he was going to vanish into 
thin air. It took only seconds before he fully understood the problem and 
was ready to leave with me. There was a period of several minutes while he 
said good-bye to his mother. We departed in her car after giving her the 
keys to move the Jaguar into the garage and instructions to call the rental 
company for a replacement. 



His mother's car was a junker, a Plymouth that had seen better days 
and needed a complete engine rebuild if it was going to see another thousand 
miles. It rattled and creaked, emitting a trail of hazy blue smoke as we raced 
down the drive and onto the road. I carried three thousand dollars in cash. It 
was my emergency supply of funds, carefully concealed in the safe in my 
closet, that I used for miscellaneous items necessary for a criminal law 
practice, namely bribes. Behind the seat was my travel bag, pre-packed with 
overnight essentials. Until we had a chance to visit a store, Phillip would 
have to survive with the clothes he wore and share my toothbrush. 

Phillip sat in silent thought as we drove along the same road we had 
travelled about twenty minutes earlier. Like me, any desire for sex play was 
distant in his mind. He confronted his future, a momentary happiness shattered 
by the need to flee in order to maintain his freedom. We were only minutes 
from the freeway when a police car hurtled past with its blue overhead 
lights flashing. I had no doubts where they were headed. I headed south on the 
freeway, away from the city and its so-called international airport. Still 
Phillip did not speak. He was hunched up, barely cognizant of the world 
passing by him, his expression glum as I moved from lane to lane to maintain 
my speed. Three exits down, ten miles and nearly twenty minutes from leaving 
my house, I got off the freeway again. Guessing that Phillip was as hungry 
as I was I pulled into a MacDonald's and ordered food and drinks for both of 
us at the take-out window. I parked, wolfed my late lunch, and hurried 
across the road to make a phone call to Roger Lawson.



Lawson kept his airplane at the municipal airport. It was a Learjet 31A, 
a twin-turbofan aircraft, able to traverse the U.S. with ease given its 
range of over 1,500 miles. We would have not only one refueling stop on the 
way to Texas but we would travel there in excess of 480 m.p.h. I planned a 
border crossing west of Galveston.

Lawson was visibly angry at being called away from other pursuits and 
jerked his thumb rudely at the open cabin door as he told us to board. I 
ignored his rudeness and imagined what he would say and do if he knew the 
beautiful boy who accompanied me was his own son. I expected that he 
reasoned Phillip was a child whose custody was being disputed in a divorce 
settlement, though such an assumption would surely be dismissed if he knew 
that I did not take divorce cases. He knew better than to ask questions. He 
also knew that after today the score would be equal and his debt would be 
eliminated. The pictures of him with a twelve-year-old girl in obscene sex 
acts had finally been destroyed.

One of the few joys of flying in a private plane from a municipal 
airport was that we were airborne in less than five minutes. Clearance for 
takeoff was a formality when there were no other airplanes on the runway. 
The other joy was that there was no record of who accompanied the pilot. But 
those joys were offset by a bumpy ride as we began the journey south.

The Learjet was a excellent plane, a corporate express that Lawson had 
acquired in a barely legal acquisition that newspapers reported in blind 
ignorance of the facts as a "timely merger". There was literally blood on 
the boardroom floor after Lawson had finished. However, business ethics were 
distant in my mind as they had been in his mind at the time. Lawson was 
interested only in making a profit where I was concerned only with the 
future of the boy beside me. 



Thoughts of right and wrong pursued me. Phillip was a ten-year-old 
boy, perhaps more experienced than his years would indicate, but certainly 
still a child. He sat across the aisle from me, grinned like a cheshire cat 
every time our eyes met, which was frequently, and turned his head away to 
gaze down at the earth 35,000 feet below. Two seats ahead of us, Lawson and 
the pilot were discussing altitude and fuel consumption. I doubted whether 
Phillip realized that the grey-haired man with the dark Florida suntan was his 
father. At first glance, the only trait he inherited was the ease with which 
he tanned, although there were a few features that were common to both of 
them. I smiled as I remembered the boy in the rest-room, his arms and legs 
already tanned a luscious golden brown and summer was still one month away.



Phillip was as happy as a boy could be, and his holiday had barely 
started. Hopefully, "honeymoon" would be an apt description of what transpired 
between us before we returned home. I dreamed about holding him close to me as 
we walked, drawing him into my embrace as I fondled the silky hair behind 
his ears, stroking his small ears and soft cheeks, holding him down until he 
giggled from my tickles, kissing his perfect mouth, finally taking him to 
bed and celebrating the love we shared. Despite what society thought of the 
union between a man and a boy, I instinctively knew that it would be 
entirely right for both of us. I dreamed of making love to him, guiding the 
inexperienced youngster in the discovery of his body's natural functions until 
he was an accomplished lover. I imagined his innocent curiosity tinged with 
lust, playful at first, becoming increasingly aroused as we engaged in 
foreplay. I would teach him about oral sex, that giving was as much fun as 
receiving, that being without semen was no handicap, that drinking mine was 
a special way of demonstrating love. The final act that brought man and boy 
together as one would happen too, I believed. I fantasized about entering 
his virgin body, using all the skill and patience I possessed to minimize 
his hurt. I reasoned that he would be tight, his untouched anus smaller and 
tighter than any Mexican boy I had penetrated. And yet, I knew that his 
small body would accommodate my penis although it would be a gradual and 
painful process.



Lawson clambered out of the pilot's seat and came back to sit in the 
seat in front of Phillip. 

"We're going to land outside Mobile, Alabama, for fuel," he said. I 
guess if your plan is to get you and the kid into Mexico you're going to 
want to end up in Texas somewhere near the border where its easy to cross over 
without any questions being asked about you and the boy."

"I didn't expect you to take us out of the States. Where did you say you 
were going on the flight-plan?" I asked.

"From Mobile we're headed south-west to Brownsville, but we can easily 
go inland and on over to Del Rio or Cotulla. I hear they're pretty quiet as 
border towns go," Lawson said. "We're cleared to fly over water so going 
either way is not a problem."

I smiled. I glanced at Phillip, thinking again about the fact that his 
father was sitting directly in front of him. Phillip grinned back at me. It 
was time for a change of plans. My first plan was to get to Mexico. I had no 
second plan.

"What if we head due south?" I asked casually.

"South from Mobile? I guess it'd take you to the Yucatan eventually."

"And south-east?"

"Uh,... Florida, somewhere around Tampa-St. Pete I guess."

"How about Key West? Is it further than Brownsville?"

"I reckon it's about the same distance from Mobile because we'd have 
to follow the coast. You'd be off the flight-plan well and truly."

I smiled and shrugged. 

"Okay, Key West it is! You must really want to get away from someone?" 
Lawson probed. "Who is the kid?"

"A friend," I answered with a playful slap of Phillip's knee. 

"Any friend of my lawyer is a friend of mine," Lawson said with 
amusement. "What say you go up front and get Mad Max to give you a flying 
lesson?"

Phillip looked at me expectantly and I nodded. He squeezed past my 
outstretched legs and carefully stepped towards the cockpit.

Lawson moved back into Phillip's now vacant seat. "He has the cutest ass 
I've ever seen," he said flatly. "Boy or girl, for that matter. Who is he?"

"He's a very good friend. In fact, he's a witness in a case not too 
different to yours. He has to disappear for a while or there's a certain 
pediatrician who's going to spend a few years behind bars for molesting a 
juvenile."

Lawson laughed and dropped his voice several notches as he said 
conspiratorially. "He's a hooker? Man, I didn't pick him for one."

"He's not!" I denied bluntly. "He made a mistake in a rest-room, 
that's all."

"That's a pity. I don't fuck too many boys, that's for sure, but I 
wouldn't waste any time getting in his butt. Now if he was a girl,..." he 
chuckled, "I'd take him right now, even with you watching. He's a real 
cutie, that's for sure. It's a pity he doesn't have a vagina instead of a dick 
between his legs."

I laughed with him. "There's nothing wrong with boy-pussy if you don't 
mind some crap on your cock."

"I was never all that keen on a tight ass," Lawson winked. "Even on a 
girl a tight pussy wears a bit thin at times. Of course the advantage with the 
back-door is it tends to stay stretched after a while. Then it is a 
different matter entirely."

"Well it certainly wouldn't be tight for very long with you around," I 
said with a laugh. "I guess my boy is safe around you if I don't leave him 
alone."

"No kid is safe around me, Young. You ought to know that by now. You got 
me off one charge already. With a butt like his I bet someone will be 
ploughing his shit-hole before long. He's got the look, you know what I 
mean, what I call 99 percent queer."

"What about the other one percent?"

Lawson smirked. "I'll leave that up to you." I shook my head. "Once he's 
had a man-sized cock deep in his guts you'll never be able to stop him from 
fucking his ass every chance he gets. It'll push him right over the edge. 
He'll never get his tool up a girl."

"I guess some boys are like that. It must be genetic," I said with cruel 
pleasure.

"I know the type. I admit I've mostly been with girls, but the boys I've 
had are that way too. I'm willing to bet that boy is the same once he's been 
laid a few times. It really doesn't matter if you fuck them in front or in 
their asses."

I nodded, silent but hopeful that Phillip's sex life would follow the 
predictable path that his own father had laid out for him.

"You want to take the kid to the islands and work on his all-over 
suntan?" Lawson smirked meaningfully. Is that why we're headed to Key West?" 
he asked.

"I don't know. A few weeks in the Bahamas sounds like fun." I 
shrugged. "I was planning to go down to Mexico."

Lawson smirked again. "Well, I know a nice place in the Caribbean. 
It's privately owned so it's real quiet. I know the owner. You might say he 
was a past business associate. He's got about half-a-dozen cabins there for 
his faggot friends. There's a nudie beach with a lot of privacy. You don't 
even have to go back in the jungle. You can do it right on the sand if you 
don't mind some grit on your cock."

"It sounds nice. I'm not sure I want to take Phillip to a gay resort."

"It is nice. But don't think of it like that. The average ages of the 
guests are fourteen and forty, if you get my drift. And for those who don't 
bring someone with them, it's especially nice. It's pretty poor down there 
so the Haitian kids have to work, if you know what I mean. Last time I was 
there I picked up a ten-year-old with a twelve-year-old brother. The little 
one was still a virgin but I took care of that the first night. The two of 
them darn near wore me out. The great thing is that you can get it up the boys 
whenever you want and no one will care."

"I thought boys weren't your thing," I observed.

Lawson shook his head. "I never turn down a good fuck. Like I said, it 
really doesn't mind if it goes in the front or the back. But you're not 
wrong about boys. I'm not fond of getting crap on the old cock. I always use a 
rubber with a boy. Besides, they sometimes bleed and I don't want the god-damn 
plague because I stuck it in an infected asshole."

I smiled and glanced at Phillip. He was ten and, from what I knew 
about him, he was still a virgin in all likelihood, events in the mall rest-
room notwithstanding. The probability of getting Aids from him was so 
infinitely small that it was nonexistent. I wondered whether he would wear 
me out as his father suggested. It was an interesting idea and a proposition 
that I would thoroughly test during the next few weeks. 

With the goal of frequent lovemaking, the plan to take him to a quiet 
beach on a private island somewhere in the Caribbean sounded even better 
than a tourist-frequented beach in the Yucatan. If I was by myself I would 
be going to a seedy hotel where the local boys dropped their shorts for a 
few dollars and gave you their assholes for the night for another ten. 

"Okay, then tell me about this place," I said with growing interest.

"It's about twenty miles from Haiti," Lawson said simply. "It's a dot on 
the map. It's a well kept secret. Access is by invitation only, so you have to 
know someone to get in the club."

"Okay," I chuckled. "Can I join?"

"Well, like I said, it's run by a friend of mine living down there. He's 
a doc, actually. Right now he goes by DeKoonig. Unlike your pediatrician, Karl 
had to leave the States. Maybe he needed a better lawyer," Lawson chortled. 
"Of course, the facts were pretty bad. The lad's mother caught him with his 
pants down in the examination room."

"Not much I could have done to help him from the sounds of things," I 
answered.

"Not when there's jizz all over the kid's belly and the kid was too 
young to do it himself," Lawson added with a crude laugh. "Anyway, the 
cabins are on the southern end of the island. It's about as far away from 
the moral hang-ups of the Christian conservatives in the States as you can get 
and still be in flying range of the mainland."

I nodded. "It sounds like you can even come alone?" I suggested.

"Hardly! I never cum alone when I'm down there," Lawson joked. 
"There's no shortage of boys. I guess the natives appreciate the cash, they 
keep trying to bring their sons to him, if you know what I mean," he guffawed. 
"Man, old Karl never had it so good while he lived here. Course, the boys 
are wasted if the tourists don't arrive by themselves. I never did have much 
of a taste for dark meat and these kids are the color of dark chocolate, but 
man can they fuck!"

"And DeKoonig likes young boys?" I asked.

"You better believe it. There's always one hanging around him. He 
keeps 'em stark naked," Lawson grinned. "Their assholes are about the same 
size as their mouths. Except for their teeth, you wouldn't know the fuckin' 
difference with your cock in either end. I don't know what he does to them but 
he must screw the heck out of them non stop."

"He sounds like quite a character," I said as I remembered some of the 
Mexican boys I had taken to bed. A boy's behind didn't get to be like that 
with occasional sex. It needed regular and frequent abuse to stretch the 
sphincter muscle and keep it loosened up.

"He is! He's really a nice guy when you get to know him. And it is a 
really beautiful spot. He has a spare cabin that he keeps for his special 
friends so you don't even have to worry about messing with the other guests if 
you don't want to. Like I said, it's real private!"

I nodded. I remembered what it was like when I brought a boy into a 
hotel with me for the night. Desk clerks tended to give a long stare when a 
single man was accompanied by a child who was not his own. In my experience 
they did nothing to acknowledge that I was taking a boy to my room, but it was 
still a huge risk. It was just a matter of time until I was reported to the 
police. The only problem was that I was not partial to dark chocolate.

"What about the political problems in Haiti," I asked. "Aren't they in 
some type of civil unrest right now?"

Lawson nodded. "That's actually another reason to go there. The cops are 
too busy chasing the malcontents to worry about us perverts, and there are 
hordes of hungry kids ready to cum with nowhere to go. Staying off the coast 
has another advantage too." he added slyly. He paused for a moment. "No one 
will know you're there. We can come in from the south and land at DeKoonig's 
place without anyone even knowing a plane landed. A lot of drugs used to go 
out through there even after Aristide took over. I think some of the guests 
are actually working for the CIA!"

I nodded again. I would postpone my decision until we left Mobile. 
Lawson stood up and clambered forward and into the pilot seat again. 



We didn't go to Mexico or Key West, although the idea of spending two 
weeks on a chartered boat in the Bahamas with Phillip was very tempting. 
From Mobile we headed south-west on our planned course, turning due south once 
we were out of radar range. More than a hundred miles out from the coast of 
Haiti we began a rapid descent from 30,000 feet to 500 feet and swung far to 
the south of the island. The waves looked very close. At low altitude the 
sense of speed is greatly amplified. Travelling at just over 480 knots, the 
next fifteen minutes were very disturbing until we crossed the narrow strip of 
beach and began to descend to a lower altitude as we passed over the tangled 
green foliage of the small island. We landed on a pock-marked road that served 
as a runway. Phillip and I had officially vanished as the plane disappeared 
from the radar.