By John Yager
The following story is a work of gay erotic fiction dealing with a sexual relationship between an adult man and a boy of high school age. If such stories are not to your liking or if you are not of legal age to read such stories in your jurisdiction, please exit now.
Again, special thanks to Andrew for his proofing and editorial assistance with this story. Any errors remain my own.
This is a work of fiction and in no way draws on the lives of any specific person or persons. Any similarity to actual persons or events is entirely coincidental.
This work is copyrighted by the author and may not be reproduced in any form without the specific written permission of the author. The story is assigned to the Nifty Archives under the terms of their submission agreement but it may not be copied or archived on any other site without the written permission of the author.
This is the fifth chapter of a story entitled Columbus Avenue, which is a sequel to the series entitled Montgomery Hall and runs concurrently with the series entitled Cutler House.
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Richard Halyard: Memorandum for Personal File.
In the usual run of things I don't see many prospective students. It used to be a significant part of my work as a member of the faculty and a member of the admissions committee. But in recent years much of that work has been turned over to a full time staff of specialists who make such evaluations. In truth, it has become a very specialized area. Our admissions staff is made up of experts. They can read between the lines of admissions forms and high school records.
But Timothy Arnold was a special case. Not only was he among our highest scoring applicants, but he was also applying for early admission after completing only his junior year of high school.
There was another aspect of Mr. Arnold's application which helped to land it on my desk. He is the protégé of Martin Cutler, who is a close personal friend as well as my attorney. Martin and young Mister Arnold were due to arrive at my house about five o'clock yesterday afternoon. I had wanted to keep the interview as informal as possible and had suggested they come for tea. Living alone, as I do, it is always rather pleasant to have company, especially on a beautiful autumn Sunday, and I did go to some lengths to make the event memorable. My garden is still quite presentable with the chrysanthemums and even a few late blooming roses. I had some cold meats and had even made a cake, a mix of course, but still rather nice. I anticipated them arriving in time for a walk around my little garden while the tea brewed. I was quite looking forward to the visit.
Martin, of course, has been the object of my sexual fantasies since I first met him five years ago. He and I have never been more than friends, quel dommage, but one can dream. He is certainly one of the most beautiful men I have ever met. I am sure he is more than just appealing to every woman and to many men in his life.
The first time I met Martin I had gone into New York for an appointment arranged by the attorney I had used here in New Haven when I bought this house. Langley, my local attorney had said he was not the person I needed to talk to regarding copyright law and publishing contracts. He had suggested Martin Cutler, whom he knew professionally as one of the best in the rather specialized field of intellectual property law. I had made the appointment but had not talked to Martin directly by phone. His secretary, a pleasant and very professional young woman, had scheduled the meeting and given me directions to the offices of his firm.
When I arrived at the offices I was surprised by the size of the place. It is a very large firm. I was directed by a receptionist to follow the corridor on my right to its end and identify myself to Mr. Cutler's secretary who occupied the desk in the waiting area I would find there.
When I reached the office, I spoke to the young lady in question and had just taken a seat when a strikingly handsome man came into the reception area from the inner offices. It was Cutler, of course, but I didn't know that at the time. My first assumption was that he was an actor or perhaps a professional model, perhaps a fellow client of the firm. He appeared to be about ten years younger than me and about my height. I must say, regrettably, that I outweighed him by a good thirty pounds. It was immediately apparent that his body, beneath his conservative, well cut suit, was muscular and very fit. He moved with the grace of an athlete. But it wasn't just his striking good looks which fascinated me. There was something more, something less definable, a kind of animal magnetism which caused everyone in that waiting room to stare at him, myself included.
This strikingly handsome man spoke with the secretary and then turned towards me. He spoke to her again and then came over to where I was sitting.
"Dr. Halyard?" He said as he extended his hand.
"Yes." I had some difficulty even speaking that one word. His physical presence had that strong an effect on me.
"I'm Martin Cutler. I understand you're here to see me."
"Yes," I said again, still not fully able to speak with any certainty.
"Well, come into my office and let's see what we can do for you." Martin was patient with me, waiting while I fumbled for my overcoat and briefcase. I later realized, after I had known him some time and been with him on several social occasions, that he so often has the effect on people that he had on me, that he has developed a tolerant and a very generous attitude toward us ordinary mortals.
"Mary," he said as we approached the secretary's desk, "take Dr. Halyard's coat, please."
She did so and came with us as I followed Cutler, blindly and mute, into his spacious corner office with its breathtaking view of central Manhattan.
"Dr. Halyard," Mary said as I moved to the sofa Cutler indicated, "would you like coffee?"
"Um, yes, please," I managed. My senses were gradually returning but I instinctively knew that having something to drink would hasten the process.
She left with my overcoat and Cutler took a seat opposite me.
"I spoke with Roger Langley. He gave me the background, Dr. Halyard. I understand you've had a book accepted for publication by Markham."
"Well, congratulations. That's a very good firm. I'm sure they will do a very good job for you."
"I've been told they are generally quite reliable."
"Yes. They bring out very few scholarly books but when they accept one it's generally because they feel it is especially timely and especially well written. And they always do an excellent job with promotion."
There was a moment of silence while Mary returned with a tray which she placed on the low mahogany table between myself and Cutler. On it were a large pot, white porcelain cups and saucers, a basin of sugar and a small jug of cream. There were also some quite nice linen napkins, silver spoons and a small plate of sweets. This was not the usual office crockery by any means.
"Thank you, Mary," Cutler said. "Just leave the tray."
Cutler poured, asked me if I used sugar or milk, and passed the cup across to me. When he had poured coffee for himself, he went on. "I understand you've been offered a contract and you wish for me to review it."
"Well, yes," I said, my speaking abilities gradually returning. "It's a little more complicated than that." Cutler was sitting back in a dark green leather chair, his legs crossed and his arms resting on the chair's upholstered arms. Why was it that no matter how he moved or sat, he seemed to take a natural pose, as if his body was incapable of an ungraceful gesture? Even in his relaxed position, he seemed to radiate a kind of sensual energy. The green leather and the dark wood of the walls behind him contrasted with his glowing skin and golden hair.
"Why don't you just start at the beginning and tell me about it."
"Well, to start with," I said, "it is not just a contract to publish this book. It's a contract for three books, this one and two additional volumes on the same subject which I am to write over the next three years."
"I see. Well, that isn't all that unusual."
"No, not in itself, but I must be sure that I don't violate my standing with the university. I'd love to do the additional books but I certainly don't want to compromise my academic status."
"I see. That shouldn't be difficult to determine. Have you brought along a copy of the Markham contract and a copy of your employment contract from the university?"
"Yes, as well as a copy of my resident visa. I'm not an American citizen."
"I've lived in the States for years but I've never gotten around to completing the naturalization process. I don't think it's a problem but it's best to be sure." I finished the excellent coffee and placed the empty cup and saucer on the table between us. Then, lifting my briefcase to my lap, I withdrew the documents and handed them across to Cutler.
"I'll review these and get back to you within a few days, a week at the most. Would you like more coffee?"
"Oh, no, thank you."
"Is there anything else?"
"I don't think so."
"Well, then." He pressed a button in the table at his side and within seconds Mary appeared. "I think Dr. Halyard is leaving, Mary. Will you please get his coat?"
Cutler shook my hand again as he saw me out and I went on my way. It was our first of many meetings and one I will always remember. His work for me was excellent and the few changes he proposed in the Markham contract resulted in a significant increase in my earnings. My concerns over any academic conflict of interest I might have with the university proved to be groundless. My superiors were, in fact, quite pleased by my books. The issue of my visa status was also irrelevant. Because I had a Green Card and permission to work, it made no difference at all that I also published. In any case, it was good to be sure. The greatest benefit of my trepidation was meeting Martin. Over the last five years we have become friends. I wish I could say our relationship had become more personal, even intimate, but I didn't expect that and it has not happened.
But yesterday, as I remembered that and later meetings with Cutler, I couldn't help wonder about this young man he was bringing for me to meet and interview. Cutler is in his mid thirties, although I must say, he seems a good bit younger. He could have any woman and probably any man he wanted, yet he had told me in our phone conversation that this youth had captured his heart. I was very curious to meet the boy who had swept Martin Cutler off his feet.
I should also say that during our first meetings I would never have guessed that Cutler was Gay. During our third meeting, over dinner at a lovely little restaurant near his office, he had, in the most tactful way, let me know that he was curious about my own sexuality. I have never hidden my sexual orientation. It is known by my superiors at the university and, while I never flaunt it, I never attempt to hide it. I was open with Martin. He asked me if I was in a relationship and I told him that I was not. From everything he had said I assumed he was a straight man who was anxious to let me know that he was accepting and even supportive of my sexuality. You can therefore imagine my surprise when he went on to talk about himself.
"My interest isn't just academic, Richard," he had said. By then we were on a first name basis, although he had not yet begun to call me Dick. Nor was I yet calling him Marty, as I now do. After a pause he said, "I might just as well tell you that I'm gay as well."
"Really! I would never have guessed."
"Well, you would guess if you met some of my friends. That's actually why I asked about your orientation. I'm planning a little party for a week from Saturday evening and was hoping you'd come. There will be several people there I'd like you to meet."
So from that point onwards our friendship took a new and most pleasant turn. Martin invited me to his apartment on many occasions and his parties were, without exception, quite interesting and quite entertaining. He had a special knack of bringing people of different backgrounds together to their mutual enjoyment.
I should also say that visiting Martin Cutler's home gave me further insight into his personality and even his family background. He lives in a fine old building on Columbus Avenue, just behind the Museum of Natural History. The building itself is impressive but when you enter Martin's apartment it is like stepping into another world. It is a world of old money, position and a kind of inherited aristocratic taste.
When Martin called three weeks ago I at first assumed that he was planning another of his little parties.
"I want to bring someone up to meet you, Dick."
"Certainly, Marty," I'd said. "Is this just social?"
"No, not just social. It need not be social at all if you prefer to keep it on a more professional level."
"I don't understand."
"I believe if you check your applications for next year you'll find one from a Timothy Arnold of Greenwood, Mississippi. He's rather special to me and I thought I'd bring him to meet you. I want your advice."
"My advice, Martin? Is the young man a relative of yours?"
"No, not a relative. I guess I'd better just come out and tell you, Dick." There was a discernible edge to his voice which I had not heard before. It was obvious, even over the telephone. "He's my lover. Has been since last summer."
"My, my, Martin. Are we robbing the cradle?"
Martin chuckled. "Probably, and I might just as well tell you that I intend to continue to do so."
"This sounds rather serious."
Our telephone conversation ended on that somewhat cryptic note. The next day I went to the admissions office to find Mr. Arnold's file. There is a sort of natural selection at universities like Yale. Only the best students tend to apply, so Timothy Arnold's academic record did not surprise me. It was excellent, of course, and I was also impressed by his athletic accomplishments and his involvement with various extracurricular activities. All of that indicated that he would be an excellent student and a welcome addition to our student body. I looked at his date of birth and verified that he would be entering university at seventeen, if admitted as he had requested without completing his senior year of high school.
It was clear that we would want him. We tend to get a fair number of early admissions and by and large they do well. They are over-achievers, of course, but intelligent, often brilliant over-achievers. Timothy had actually taken all the courses needed for a high school diploma and all those needed as prerequisites for university admission. If needs be, he could certainly take the GED and be done with it. I was sure our admissions staff would not require him to do so.
What did catch me completely off guard were the photographs of the boy. From the official school picture attached to the admissions questionnaire, it was obvious that he was strikingly handsome. Going through the file with some care, I found several news clippings about him which contained other images. Most of these were reports on his high school athletic career. There were photographs of him in full football regalia.
Shoulder pads under a loose fitting jersey and a helmet with face guard gave little idea of the body beneath such attire, but his upper arms, visible in those photos, exhibited the hard mass and defined muscle you would not expect even a high school football star to possess. Further back in the file I found two separate news clippings dealing with his wins at swim meets. Both of these pieces contained photographs of him in the briefest of swim wear. His body, as I suspected, was spectacular! It combined the grace of a swimmer with mass and definition which could only have come from disciplined weight training.
But beyond Timothy's incredible good looks, I was struck by one other thing. He looks so much like Martin Cutler that he could pass for his son or younger brother. Was there a relationship here Marty had not yet admitted to me? Could Timothy be his son, the product of some youthful dalliance? Perhaps they were uncle and nephew; that might explain it.
Cutler had been frank in telling me that he and Timothy were lovers. The difference in their ages was certainly reason for concern. Was it possible that this was an incestuous relationship as well? I mean, my god, the boy won't even be seventeen for another six months and he is less than half Martin's age! What can Cutler be thinking of?
All these thoughts had rattled around in my head on Sunday afternoon as I waited for their arrival. I took the cake I'd baked on Saturday out of the fridge and iced it. Then I went back to Timothy's folder, which I'd left on the table by my reading chair. I felt a little guilty opening it again to look at the photos of him in Speedos, but I did so anyway. The boy was luscious! I ran my eyes over the image, noting again his sculpted chest and rippling abdomen, his heavily muscled shoulders and arms and the defined muscles of his legs. I couldn't help noticing, even though I felt a little ashamed of myself, the prominent bulge of his crotch. No wonder Marty had fallen for him. Lust, at least, was natural. Love was another matter.
Promptly at five o'clock, Marty's car pulled up in front of my house. I had been watching through my front window and followed their progress as they got out of the car and walked up to my door. They were nearly the same height. Marty was perhaps an inch of so taller than the boy. They both wore well cut slacks and crew neck sweaters. Just a hint of Oxford cloth indicated that they wore conservative dress shirts beneath the sweaters and, I suspected, no ties. They were truly a very handsome couple. I watched how they moved together with easy familiarity. The boy moved with the ease and grace one would expect from a somewhat older man.
I was at the door before Monty could ring the chimes and opened it to welcome them.
"Hello, Marty," I said. "This must be Mister Arnold."
"Hello, Dick. Yes, this is Timothy. Timothy, this is Dr. Halyard."
"Hello, Sir," Timothy said, "Thank you for seeing us today."
"Come in, come in," I stammered, showing them into the hall.
"It's my pleasure to meet you, Timothy," I said, "entirely my pleasure. Please, come and sit down."
We went into the living room where they chose to sit side by side on my sofa.
"I've told Tim all about you, Dick. I hope you don't mind."
"Certainly not. It's better to cut through to the real issues at hand."
"Well, I'll let Tim speak for himself, Dick, but I did want to be sure you understand that he hasn't really decided yet which university he wants to attend. At this point we're just looking over the options."
"I understand perfectly. I do think, however, that you couldn't do better, Timothy, than to come to us."
"I realize that, sir."
"Well, why don't I just go for a stroll, Dick," Marty said. "I know you two need to talk without me around and I need to stretch my legs after the drive."
"Why don't you take a look at my garden, Marty? It is still beautiful and deserves a look."
With that Cutler excused himself, leaving the boy and me alone.
"I read your file with keen interest, Timothy," I began. "You have a very impressive record and I know we would be pleased to welcome you here."
"Thank you, sir."
"I rather wondered if you could tell me a little about your objectives, academic and otherwise."
"Martin said I could be completely frank with you, Dr. Halyard."
"Absolutely, completely frank."
"Than I guess I should start by saying that my academic goals are to complete a pre-law degree and go on to law school as quickly as possible."
"Entering university at seventeen is quite an impressive step in that direction."
"I also hope to finish my undergraduate degree as quickly as possible."
"Well, young man, don't hurry along so fast, take time to enjoy your youth. Adult life will be there waiting for you when you complete your education."
"Martin said he'd told you we are lovers, Dr. Halyard."
"Yes. Yes, he did."
"Then perhaps you can understand why I want to complete my education as soon as possible and begin to contribute to our life together. I don't want to be dependent on Martin any longer than absolutely necessary."
"I can understand that, young man, but I'm sure Martin would not want you to take less than full advantage of your educational opportunities."
"No, I'm sure you're right. It's more my wish, though, than his."
We were both silent for a few moments while I contemplated this phenomenal young man. His striking good looks mirrored Martin's in almost every way, the relaxed pose of an athlete at rest, the glowing skin and golden hair, the same animal magnetism. He was beautiful and he knew it. But, like Martin, there seemed to be no guile in him. He made no overt attempt to use his natural beauty and superb mind to manipulate. It occurred to me that as attorneys both Martin and this boy would be formidable.
"Would you feel comfortable telling me more about your relationship with Martin?"
"What would like to know?"
"I gather you regard yourselves as a couple. Is that correct?"
"I've known Martin for five years. He has had several male friends during that time. I've never heard him refer to any of them in the manner he refers to you, Timothy. I must assume this is a serious relationship."
"Yes, Dr. Halyard. I believe Martin and I will be a couple for as long as we both live."
"That's a rather emphatic statement, young man."
"Yes, sir, I know. But you have to understand that we have fully committed to it, to our relationship, and to each other."
"You are still rather young to make such a commitment. There must be other people who have some responsibilities here."
"You mean my parents and Martin's family."
"Yes, among others. There is also the question of the State. You are not yet of legal age."
"We have my parents' blessing, Dr. Halyard. Both Mississippi and New York allow for a man to marry at my age with his parents' permission. The law has not been applied to same sex unions but heterosexual marriage is generally seen as the only appropriate model."
"Well, yes, but....."
"Yes, Dr. Halyard?"
"How shall I say this? Do you assume you are irrevocably homosexual? Wouldn't courts, should courts ever play a part in such a situation, suggest that you are, perhaps, too young to make such a decision?"
"Martin told me that you are also gay, Dr. Halyard."
"Yes. I've never attempted to hide my sexuality."
"At what age did you know you were gay, sir?"
"Well, I see your point, yes. I suppose by the time I was your age, although I didn't really come to terms with it for another two or three years."
"But you don't think it was the result of some decision, conscious or unconscious, on your part?"
"No, certainly not."
"Well then. I suppose if I were asked to explain my understanding of my own sexuality, I would just say it was simply a question of recognition of a fact, not a question of choice. And as a fact, it has nothing to do with my age."
"I must say, young man, that you have an understanding of yourself I wish I'd had at your age."
"I think it's a question of time, sir. My generation has had the benefit of the progress you and earlier generations have won for yourselves and for us. I know, sir, that I and all young gay people who stop to think about it are very grateful."
"Have you two finished?" Martin called from the garden door.
"I think we have, Martin," I said. "I must say, you have quite a find here!"
"Thank you, Dick. I agree wholeheartedly."
The rest of our time together was given over to pleasant conversation. They were complimentary about my little repast and flattered me by insisting that the three of us take a tour of my garden. Martin had seen it already but Timothy was especially surprised by my use made of the rather limited space. I was amazed that he could identify every rose in my garden, some of which I consider quite rare.
During our remaining time together, before they left to drive back into New York, I kept seeing subtle signs of their relationship. Before they left I had to concede, at least to myself, that they were, indeed, a couple, strikingly handsome couple.
To be continued.