Date: Fri, 21 Dec 2001 14:36:21
From: Ganymede
Subject: Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy, Act V

The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy, ACT V, by Ganymede


WARNING:


This story contains graphic descriptions of sexual acts
between men and MINOR boys. It is not true! The story is not
intended to promote illegal acts against minors. I do not
condone child abuse, however the love of boys is a different
matter. Despite the prevalent attitudes of western society,
men have loved boys throughout recorded history. It is my goal
to help readers appreciate that love can exist between men
and boys. If the subject of man/boy love 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!

By downloading this story:

"... you implicitly declare and affirm under penalties of
perjury that you are not a minor or in the company of a
minor and are entitled to have access to material intended
for mature, responsible members of society capable of making
decisions about the content of documents they wish to read...."

Any similarity to individuals, living or dead, is entirely
accidental. The sexual acts described in the story are the
result of my imagination. I have not performed these acts, and
I do not encourage others to perform them with minors.

The story is copyrighted under the pseudonym, Ganymede. Copies
have been placed in two archives for your enjoyment.
The story cannot be used to derive monetary gain. The story
cannot be placed in archives that require payment for access, or
printed and distributed in any form that requires payment either
directly or indirectly.



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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!



The Sugar Plum Fairy, ACT V, by Ganymede

Dedicated to another's friend, a boy who wanted to dance.


OVERTURE

Alesha danced. For once, he danced because he was happy, not
because he had to practice. He was happy with the progress that
he had made in little more than a single day. He had worked on
the Russian Sailors' Dance almost without a break so that it had
become like any other dance. He knew the steps and their order,
and by the time he finally stopped repeating them, he was able to
do the entire four minutes of the dance with considerable
precision. Although few people in the audience would know it, it
was a dance that demanded defined and exacting movement, each
step coordinated closely with the rest. He had danced from dawn
to late in the afternoon, stopping only for a hurried lunch.

Almost from the very first day that Alesha had moved into
Mr. Beaufort's house on 78th Street, the cook had been zealous to
ensure that his unusual dietary needs were at least filled with
appetizing food. However, the day being Saturday, she had been
given the day off. Instead, Mr. Beaufort himself, had prepared a
meal for Alesha and taken it to the attic. They had dined in his
'private room', spreading Roquefort cheese, pate, herring in sour
cream, smoked oysters, and crackers out on the table. It was a
picnic, but indoors. Alesha had eaten a few crackers and some
cheese, but he had giggled almost non-stop. Unlike the night
before, their conversation was entirely devoid of anything even
remotely to do with sex.

Alesha turned off the CD player and went to the bar to begin
a series of stretching exercises designed to prevent his muscles
from aching later on. For a moment, he glanced at the boy in the
mirror. His thin face was flushed and tired. His curling hair was
in a wild disarray, sweaty and no longer golden brown, but matted
and much darker. His eyes were clear, sublime, startlingly blue,
generously revealing a hint of the person within. And his lips,
full and passionately red, yet through from some quirk of nature
they had been shaped too much like a girl's lips for comfort.
With each deep breath, his nostrils flared. If anything his
slightly upturned nose, like his ears, was much too small, he
decided.

Alesha studied that reflection with critical analysis,
seeing himself as if for the very first time. Was the boy who
gazed back at him good-looking? What did Mr. Beaufort think of
him? Alesha had never thought of himself as attractive in any
way, although he had often heard comments that suggested that he
was as handsome as any other boy. How often had he heard his
mother say that for most dancers, beauty was only skin-deep? It
was the personality within the dancer's body, those compelling
characteristics of a single-minded purpose that counted for it
all. There were lots of very good dancers, all struggling to
achieve the success demanded by their overpowering egos, but only
those few who were prepared to sacrifice everything ever reached
the top. He would never become any better unless he practiced
harder. She had said such things again and again, until he grew
tired of hearing what a dancer's sacrifice entailed, until he
considered himself to have no other value.

Alesha's self-denigration came not because he failed to
appreciate the qualities that created human beauty. He had always
known that his mother was very beautiful, yet for himself he had
rejected the very possibility of anything but dancing. His ego
had been shattered long ago. He had accepted a single purpose for
his life, and that was to dance.

Drearily, he lifted his right leg and twisting it, wedged
his foot between the bar and mirror. His calf muscles were
stretched, the long ligaments pulled tight. He lifted up onto the
toes of his left foot and stretched. He stretched until his leg
ached, until the tendons trembled, until his calf muscle knotted,
until he had to close his eyes and clench his jaws. Up and down.
Up and down. Again and again. He never resented his mother's
insistence that he practice. For as long as he could remember, he
practiced until he was too tired to stand.



In that silent attic room, Mrs. Borland's penetrating voice
from the previous day's class in Variations filled his ears. The
advanced students had been at the bar, going through the five
basic motions for what seemed the thousandth time that day. She
counted off the steps, never stopping even when all of the
students were exhausted.

"One,... Two,.... Three,... Four,... Five,.... One,....
Two,...Three,.... Four,... Five,.... One,..."

To Alesha's mind it was also a monotonous drone, but he
obeyed the voice within him to perfect each step. His mother's
voice was always there. Every time he moved he did so with every
skill he possessed. He lived to dance. That was what she wanted
for him.

Again and again, Mrs. Borland kept the students at it,
making individual comments under her breath while they followed
closely. A dozen slender bodies moving simultaneously. Alesha
could tell from the subdued tone of her voice that she was far
from happy.

"You have such ugly legs! Stop this instant, all of you. You
will do better," she had said ominously.

When her voice was low, it portended punishment for all.
Several of the students sighed. The threat of being kept back was
implied.

"Marsha! You are a cow! Brianna, don't smile. You're no
better. Your legs are barely exhibiting any grace. Gail, you're
clumping like you're wearing boots! For the last time, please do
the motions as a dancer! begin! One,... Two,... Three,...
Four,... Stop! What's the point if you do it without feeling?"

It was then that she had turned to the boy who was second
from the end. Alesha realized what was coming before the first
words were out of her mouth. It was the way she looked at him,
approvingly, as if he was the only person on the bar. From the
time that he had entered the Junior program at the Academy, he
had often been required to demonstrate the art of movement. He
did not relish the attention lavished upon him. No less than ten
girls glared at him with something between contempt and anger.
Resigned to always have less skill than Alesha, the other boy in
the advanced class simply ignored him.

"Alesha! It would please me for you to show the class how
you do it."

As she counted, Alesha went through the basic motions by
himself. Each one was a trial of expression. The first motion was
a single step from Giselle, a memory of his mother's pas de deux.
The second step was taken from a scene of Sleeping Beauty, a
performance that he had seen in London three years ago. The
third, fourth, and fifth motions all had precedents within
Alesha's mind from other ballets that he had seen. Accordingly,
he did not simply go through the motions. Each step was an
exercise in conveying feeling.

She stopped counting, and gazed at the slender boy who
already possessed more talent than other boys who were six years
his senior. His skill was often a subject of discussion among the
teachers, but this? She was impressed, but not amused by what he
did. Finally, after all five motions had been completed two
times, she interrupted him.

"Thank you, Alesha! That's exactly how your motions must be
done," she announced to the other students. "With feeling. True
beauty comes only when you dance from the heart." She paused for
a few moments. "Alesha, you are dismissed for today. However, in
future please remember to dance as a boy and not a girl."

The other students snickered and Alesha's face turned to
crimson. He could not understand why he had danced en pointe. He
reasoned to himself that he had done it only to show the teacher
that he could do whatever ten girls could do. Yet, it did not
begin to explain the whim that made him rise up upon his toes.
The heat in his face was matched by the warmth that spread
outward from his groin. He dared not glance down. For some reason
he did not understand, dancing en pointe always made that part of
him become very hard.

He could still hear their peels of laughter behind his back
even when he halfway down the corridor. Had the girls seen what
had risen up between his legs? Would he be teased about it the
following Monday? Was it worse than a boy dancing en pointe?
Sometimes, he smarted from their taunts for days, yet despite
their claims to the contrary, he did not think that he was
superior.



For a dancer like Alesha Yaroshenko, bowel movements usually
came quickly and very easily. Both diet and constant exercise
played a role. Only when he was daunted by a coming performance,
did he have to strain or take something to aid the passage
through his system. That afternoon, as often happened after a
prolonged practice, he suddenly felt a growing urge to empty
himself. It was an urge that had become increasingly demanding
during the last few minutes. He carefully extricated his foot
from the bar and winced when he put his weight upon both legs. A
moment later, he walked from studio into the change room, drew
the straps of his leotard down his arms, squirmed until it was
past his bottom, and quickly sat down upon the toilet.

It needed very little effort, and with excretion came an
immediate feeling of relief. Never before had he been aware of
the sensation of something passing through him, yet this time, he
sighed aloud. He would not have called it satisfying, yet it was
nothing less than that. He sat perfectly still, barely cognizant
of how he felt. Empty, yet wanting fullness back. A single
thought, a question, filled his mind. Had Roland been joking when
he said 'it feels like defecating in reverse'? Only Roland had
not said 'defecating'. Alesha shivered. 'It' was what he did not
really understand, although he had pretended otherwise with a
worldly knowing smirk. 'It' was sex, what men did to boys like
him. He knew parts of it, the mechanics of the act. Although it
seemed more unlikely than undesirable, his mother had said that a
man's penis would fit inside his bottom. He closed his eyes,
mindful of a lingering awareness within him.

Alesha strained down, holding his breath, hoping to push
more out, trying to repeat that all-too-fast sensation that had
happened a minute earlier. Nothing happened.

He tried again, even though he realized he was wasting time.
Absently, he stood and flushed and watched the coil circulate one
time around the white porcelain bowl. Strangely, he had never
noticed how thick and long it was. Yet, as he gazed with curious
visceral eyes, instinctively making an analogy to something he
barely grasped, it went away. In its absence, questions came
quickly to his churning mind, and merging with memories of the
night before, provided a startling insight. He had felt Sheldon's
penis as hard as iron, pushing against his back. Was it that
thick? That long? Of course, it stood to reason that if a man's
penis was smaller it had to fit inside him. But Alesha did not
need to compare the two to know that one was so much bigger than
the other. And even though Sheldon's penis had seemed huge, was
it necessarily impossible? Alesha trembled. Was that why it felt
like 'defecating in reverse'?

Alesha did not wipe! Instead, he used the bidet, the French
device that he had never used before. Mr. Beaufort had joked
about it with him, even demonstrated how the controls worked. He
said it was an hygienic necessity rather than a luxury, and for
the French, it was as normal as brushing one's teeth. Indeed, he
had laughed and said that for getting that part of his body
ready, the bidet was as good as taking a bath. 'Ready'. Had Mr.
Beaufort said 'ready'? Alesha had thought nothing of it at the
time. Yet now, as he sat there, pushing the button to adjust the
temperature of the water to above his body-temperature, he could
not remember. Ready for what? It certainly felt very nice.

After squirting lukewarm over his bottom and genitals, the
water pressure faded to a trickle and then stopped. What next?
There was a bottle of amber-colored soap on a wrought iron and
ceramic stand. Carefully, Alesha pumped the end, filling his
other cupped hand. He reached beneath his legs. The soap was
colder, yet not uncomfortable. Giggling, he applied some to his
genitals. He did not stop there. That was not the part that
needed cleaning.

He could not stop smiling as he washed his bottom. For the
first time in his life, Alesha touched his anus without disgust.
It felt strange at first. Tentative. Uncertain. Gradually become
used to it. He discovered that place between his small firm
cheeks was very sensitive. It was disturbingly delicious when his
finger pressed against the wrinkled entrance. With the foamy
soap, it was slippery enough that his finger penetrated right
away, no further than the first joint, but far enough that he
could feel it lodged within his anus. There he stopped, realizing
what he had done, and not at all certain what he should do next.
His anus tightened, pulling inwards, curiously inviting. Almost
hungry.

His inhibition took control. Quickly, Alesha jerked his
finger away. He breathed out, deeply, emptying his lungs in the
hope that the quandary he had confronted would vanish. His heart
was racing, bounding with excitement. It had been nothing short
of wonderful. He lifted his hand up, and with an perplexing,
inquisitive frown, studied his finger. It was soapy from the
first joint down. The tip was clean. The need grew stronger
inside him, increasing exponentially, becoming a gnawing, nagging
desire to replicate the feelings that had come so suddenly from
nowhere, from somewhere that was supposed to be dirty and
disgusting. Alesha resisted for as long as possible, two or three
seconds. His hand darted back down between his slender legs, his
finger extended. It plunged inside as if he had no control of his
own hand. He shuddered, pushing upward, sliding in a film of
soap, breaching the sanctity of his virgin bowels, swiftly going
beyond his second joint, pushing resolutely until his knuckle was
compressed between his cheeks.

"Jebat!" he gasped softly.

Jebat! Pronounced 'yee-bat', was 'fuck' in Russian. It was a word
that his Polish friend, AD, had taught him. Alesha knew better than
to use the word around his mother, yet occassionally he had heard
her whisper it under her breath when things went wrong.

He closed his eyes tightly. His legs twitched. His anus
tightened, reflexively closing up to protect what no longer
needed protection. Alesha felt the muscle anxiously clamping
around his embedded finger, trying to push it out. He did what
came naturally. He forced his body to relax. He breathed slowly,
concentrating on the strange tingling, the rippling spasms,
wondering why his heart was throbbing. His only regret was that
he would have to stop before too long in order to get dressed to
go to the party. His only thoughts were of what had happened on
the 86th floor of the Empire State Building. For a moment, just a
few seconds before he had what Mr. Beaufort called an 'orgasm',
there had been a different feeling. It hurt terribly, right at
the very end of his penis. However, it was a feeling that was so
intense, so incredibly overwhelming, that it seemed that
something had burst deep within his body.



ACT V, Scene I

The house was barely visible as we approached. I could see
the top of a white chimney and what appeared to be a frame of
some kind. Another bend, and the dense cluster of evergreens that
had concealed the house from view suddenly parted. Revealed among
the trees was a stunning vista of an articulated, pure white
cube. What was not white was glass, enormous sheets of glass.
Dewon stopped the car beside a path and hurried around to open my
door. Alesha and I climbed out and stretched our legs. The drive
from New York City had taken the best part of two hours.

Alesha smiled, gazing from side to side. The house
overlooked the upper reaches of Long Island Sound from the
Connecticut coast. The fading light was barely enough to
illuminate the view, but it was spectacular. The land dropped
sharply to a rocky shoreline and a small, very private cove.

I had to look hard to discern the front door, and even then
it was difficult to find. Had we not been following the path, I
expect we might never have found the front door. Even as I lifted
my hand about to knock, the door opened. Marius Eisenberg
appeared. He smiled warmed, placing his hands apart as if to
suggest surprise.

"Hello my dears," he began in a falsetto voice.

It was difficult not to laugh, but I managed to contain my
amusement with only a friendly smile. Alesha stared in amazement.
Certainly, he had seen men in wigs and costume on stage, but
never one like this. Marius was dressed in haut couture, a see-
through gown of purple and gray panne, velvet and delicate
embroidered lace. There was elaborate floral-patterned lacing on
the front of the bodice with lace overlay panels that extended
down the sleeves and the skirt. The ensemble was completed with a
scattering of amethyst rhinestones. Marius wore make-up, a
brilliant red lipstick and very dark eye-shadow. His wig was
barely discernible from not being real. And his red underwear,
women's bikini panties and a brassiere, so brazenly displayed
beneath the nearly transparent cloth? I quickly averted my eyes
before I had a chance to see. Alesha continued to stare for
several moments.

"Hello Maria," I replied, drawing attention to myself,
extending my hand for a 'limp-wrist' shake.

The hand I touched was soft and moist, without a man's
strength. His eyes lit up, visibly appreciative of my acceptance
of his affectations.

"I'm so pleased you could come, Sheldon. And Alesha too? I'm
so excited. It's simply a pleasure to see him again. My, but
you're so beautiful this evening, Alesha. He is so daring, isn't
he Ramona?"

Ramon was standing behind Marius, looking for all the world
like a ten-year-old girl. I couldn't help thinking of the old
adage, 'like father, like son', for Ramon was attired similarly,
though far less formally. He wore a crushed-panne, narrow-waist
dress with elbow-length sleeves. Like Marius, it had its share of
rhinestones, but in his case they formed a jeweled neckline. It
was a flattering skirt in a lavender hue that complemented what
Marius was wearing. His hair had been moussed so that the top of
his head was plumed. Had his hair been longer he could easily
have been mistaken for a girl, even without the benefit of makeup
which he had yet to apply.

"Hi Lesha," Ramon giggled.

"Uh,... hi Ramon,...ah," Alesha answered nervously.
"Ramona," he said more distinctly.

"You're the first ones to arrive, and right on time too,"
Marius tittered. "Well, my dears, don't just stand there. Come on
in," he continued, gesturing.

We entered into a vast foyer, a space that was made even
even more dramatic by glimpses though many layers of white planar
walls that were intermittently pierced with windows to the
outdoors or openings to adjacent spaces. Indeed, the views beyond
the house were carefully framed and intensified to become simply
awe-inspiring.

"Wow!" Alesha murmured.

There was a fire blazing in the huge white-painted brick
fireplace, the chimney pushing through to the outside as it
ascended the full height of the three-storey living room. The
walls of glass were alive with subtle reflections, highlights of
light, the panorama that lay on the other side. Even though I had
been inside the house several times before it still had the same
effect of taking away my breath. Just being there was an
experience that could never be forgotten.

Marius Eisenberg was not about to be self-deprecating.

"It sounds like someone is impressed," he said gleefully,
his voice resuming a more manly tone for a moment.

"Yes Sir," Alesha answered in awe. He stopped himself,
suddenly realizing what he had said.

"You can call me Marius if you don't feel comfortable with
Maria," he simpered with a casual glance to me. I shrugged.

Alesha swallowed nervously. "Um,... Mr. Beaufort said you
designed it yourself,... Maria."

"Yes, I did, dear boy.

"It's beautiful," Alesha added thoughtfully. "It's like a
stage set."

"Indeed it is. I had that very much in mind. Now what would
we like to drink? Sheldon, a cock-tail perhaps?" he smirked,
deliberately glancing at Alesha.

I chuckled. "Not that kind. At least not yet," I remarked.

"Some champagne then? I have half-dozen bottles of Dom that
are nicely chilled and ready to be opened?"

The cuvée Dom Pérignon, that two-year fermentation of pinot
noir and chardonnay from the Abbaye de Hautvilliers, was not my
preference when it came to sparkling wine. One had to wonder why
the good man and his widow, Clicquot, saw fit to spoil a
perfectly good fermentation with a second just to get a 'fizz'.
It was also over-priced, exactly what one would expect from Moët
and Chandon. They had the world convinced that only Dom Pérignon
would do for special occasions. I would rather have had a bottle
of Veuve Cliquot La Grande Dame. Anyone who appreciated
vinification and the sheer complexity of the blend of eight
Grands Crus, would understand why.

"That would be nice," I answered gracefully.

"And some for our darling Alesha too?" Marius inquired with
a sly smile. "Just a little, Sheldon? Something to get him in the
mood for later on?"

I shrugged. "If he wants some I don't see why not?"

"Alesha, will you help Ramona in the bar?" Marius asked.
"Let's have glasses all around and we can toast."

While the boys were gone, Marius and I discussed his recent
trip to Mexico to see Ramon's mother about her son's visa status,
a problem of increasing importance given that her work permit had
expired. To make matters worse, she had even raised the
possibility of his adopting her second eldest son, an eight-year-
old boy named Enrique. Marius had rejected the suggestion
outright. He was afraid of making Ramon jealous, his declaration
to the contrary.

They returned, each carefully carrying two long-stemmed
champagne glasses that were filled to within a quarter of an inch
of the brim.

"Wonderful," Marius tittered. "Now, what shall we toast to?"

"To boys, Maria?" I suggested with a smirk. "Always to
boys."

"But not just any boys," Marius corrected. "To our two
sweeties. To Ramona and Alesha."

"We can't toast ourselves, can we Ramona?" Alesha giggled.

"I suppose not," Marius admitted. "To gay boys who know what
they want and aren't afraid to do it."

I watched Alesha as he sipped his champagne. Like most
Europeans, he had been introduced to wine at an early age,
however he still gave the compulsory giggle when the bubbles
tickled his nose. He licked his lips. The vintage was 1992, an
exceptional harvest, and clearly present in the wine's bouquet.

"Ramona, you had better run upstairs and finished getting
dressed. The others will be here shortly, I expect," Marius
observed.

He gave a flourish to rearrange his dress so that the pleats
in the sides were where they were supposed to be.

"Lesha, come with me," Ramon said invitingly.

Alesha glanced to me for permission, which I gave promptly
with a smile. He beamed. They headed off, their heads together,
whispering in collusion as only pre-teen boys can when they are
plotting something or sharing secrets.

"Goodness me, they are so delightful together, aren't they?"
Marius commented. His falsetto voice had returned. "Alesha has
lots of flair, but without that gorgeous tie-dye shirt he doesn't
look nearly as fem as the last time I saw him. I'm sure I fell
hopelessly in love with him last Friday."

"He chose the shirt for tonight himself, Maria," I explained
with a smile.

"I just love the way it shows his nipples," Marius smirked.
"A spandex camisole for boys? Where on earth did you find it,
Sheldon?"

"I didn't. Actually it's something my mother acquired. She
collected ballet clothes. Alesha's been trying some of them on,"
I added.

"How delightful! And dresses too, I hope. Oh, I am so
excited. Some of those ballet costumes are simply divine," he
said with an exaggerated gesture of his hand.

I smiled again and gave him a quick version of finding
Alesha in the Attic, dancing as the Sugar Plum Fairy.

"The poor little darling. He must be so confused still.
Which way do you think he'll swing, Sheldon? Camp or butch?"

I shrugged. "Right now, I wouldn't want to take bets. I
think he's still a long way from finding out who he is."

"Oh, I do hope he goes campy like Ramona. Of course, butch
is a lot easier for a boy. There's no doubt about it. Julian's
boy has it made compared to what Ramona's going to have to go
through when he's older. I'm not looking to forward to it. It's
so easy for boys to turn bitchy when people are mean to them."

"I guess I'm taking a wait and see approach," I replied
calmly. "I'm not going to push Alesha one way or the other."

"But you won't stop him from trying my way, will you
Sheldon? I know being a trannie is extreme, but it is so
important to be able to express oneself," Marius asked hopefully.
"Oh, but I would have loved to have seen him dressed up as a
fairy. He must have been absolutely gorgeous."

I laughed. "He was very embarrassed at first, Maria, but we
had a long talk about it. I think he got the point that I won't
reject him no matter what he does."

"I'm glad. You said exactly the right thing, I think. So
many boys have a hard time with being fem. I know I did. I used
to steal my sister's clothes from the laundry and take them into
the back room in the basement. Sometimes I was so scared it was
all I could not to pee."

"You're not the only one. Alesha told me that he used to
wear his mother's clothes around the apartment," I commented. "He
would worry that she'd come home early and find him."

"The poor thing. My, most people have absolutely no idea
what it's like for a gay boy, do they?" Marius commented, shaking
his head with despair.

I smiled weakly.

"They're so worried about perverts abusing children that
they miss what's right under their noses. Most gay boys want it
just as much as we do. What's the old saying about it takes two
to tango? We're not all pedophiles out to take advantage of an
innocent child."

I agreed. "What are you going to do about Ramona now that
Miranda is back in Mexico, Maria?" I asked to shift the subject
to a topic that was less fraught with difficult issues, at least
for me.

"I really don't know. I've talked to my lawyer about
adopting Ramona, but you know how that goes."

"The world would be a lot better off without lawyers. A lot
of money spent and still no guarantees," I sneered. "Well, as you
know, Maria, I wish you the best of luck. In my opinion, Ramona
couldn't have a better mother."

Marius smiled. "You're so sweet to say that, Sheldon." he
paused. "I hear you have wonderful plans for Alesha."

"Plans?"

"To keep him with you. Julian said something about him
living with you, even going to Paris with you this summer? How on
earth did you manage that?"

"His mother obtained a position in Texas. She needed a
patron to care for Alesha and I happened to be available."

"You're his patron? How absolutely wonderful! And he really
is going to live with you from now on?" Marius exclaimed.

"Until his mother wants him back," I replied vaguely.

Marius chuckled, momentarily stepping away from his other
personality. "Do you want the name of my lawyer?"

"I don't think it will come to that," I replied, sipping
some of the champagne.

"I do hope not, Sheldon, for you sake. Your little dancer is
simply the most wonderful boy I think I've ever seen."

Marius smiled, hesitating for a few seconds before he
continued on. His voice lowered, gaining an octave, but still not
manly.

"Tell me dear, have you and he,..."

"Not yet!"

"Well, I won't ask why not, but I'm so surprised. He's such
a minx."

I gave Marius a cold look, hoping that he would let the
subject drop.

"You mean you haven't even started to loosen him up?"

"No! I thought I'd wait until he was legal for that."

"For Heaven's sake!" Marius exclaimed. "Really? You're
joking?" He smiled then. "Of course you are. It took months you
know, to get Ramona ready. The poor thing was so tight."

"I'm prepared to wait," I said emphatically. "There's no
rush,..."

"Goodness, just look at the time," Marius interjected. "We'd
better go up and make sure they're getting ready."

He winked, a certain sign that a surprise was in store for
me.

ACT V Scene II

Marius led the way to the stairs, and then with a finger
pressed to his lips, continued along the balcony to the third or
fourth door to look into a room that was obviously his bedroom.
However, it was anything but a master's domain. While the rest of
the house was stark white and glass cubic extrapolations with
chrome and leather furniture intended to meet the expectations of
modern architecture, the main bedroom stood in direct contrast.
It was, in a word, Rococo. There was no white at all, the closest
color being a pink-peach-hue that reminded me of the skin color
employed by Fraggonard. Indeed, the ceiling was painted tromp
l'oeil, a fluid and spontaneous scene of voluptuous boys
frolicking as the sun caressed their soft naked skin amid lush
foliage. The pastel shades, the boys' floating grace and happy
gestures contributed to the sense of pleasure for pleasure's
sake. It was deliciously sensual, both in style and in subject.

On the walls; very large, elaborate gilt-framed mirrors
reflected back and forth until the eye became dizzy with carnal
delight. The furniture was similarly overstated, with abundant
marbled and gold-leaf finishes. Alesha was sitting on a chair in
front of Ramon. He was holding his hands up with his outstretched
fingers hanging down. I saw only his head and shoulders and for a
few moments I did not notice anything different about him. It was
only the black clothes, a pair of jazz pants and a skimpy
stretchy top, lying on the king-sized bed that finally got my
attention.

"Now, what are our two darlings up to now," Marius asked.

I followed him into the room, aware that this room, more
than any other in the house, reflected Marius' true nature. It
was nothing less than a temple to the love of boys.

Ramon giggled. Alesha, startled by the interruption, spun
around. Yet, seeing me, he smiled slightly, uncertainly,
hopefully. He stood up slowly. It was my turn to be surprised. He
wasn't naked, but he was not all that far from it. He was dressed
in black leather. His vest barely came together in the front with
a simple bow-tied lace midway between his navel and his nipples.
His tight shorts showed the full length of his thighs and
emphasized the tiny bulge in front. They were laced not only on
both sides from the hip downwards, but in the front, revealing a
hint of what was underneath. When he turned around with a
graceful pirouette, I saw the crossing laces and the pink of bare
skin in the rear as well.

"Well, look at you," I chuckled. "Where on earth did you get
those, Alesha?"

"They're Ramona's. He loaned them to me," Alesha answered
shyly. "Do you like them, Mr. Beaufort?"

"Yes. Very much."

I had to swallow. Then, I took a deep, long breath. I felt
very strange inside, as if I was gazing at someone else, a person
who I barely knew, yet who had a tremendous power over me. This
was a very different side to Alesha. Despite what should have
been butch attire and completely out of character for him, he
really had not changed beyond the clothes. He was still the same
boy, that curious combination of boy and girl who had made my
heart beat faster from the first moment I had seen him sitting on
a bench awaiting his turn to compete for one of the scholarships
that bore my family name.

I stared, and Alesha returned my gaze with a bemused
expression that left me wondering once again what was going
through his mind. It was impossible to look away. My heart raced.
Even the simple act of breathing had come to a complete
cessation. Without thinking about each breath, I would been
asphyxiated. I had to keep looking, swallowing, trying to take in
the minimally dressed beauty who was standing right before me.
Beside me, Marius said something. He swirled past, fluttering his
hands, commenting on Ramona's eyes. He needed something darker.
Never before had I felt such an sensation of being overwhelmed.
There was magic in those sensual Russian eyes. The same eyes
sparkled with merriment, clearly appreciating his own reflection
in the mirrors.

"Do you think I'm sexy now, Mr. Beaufort?" Alesha said
softly, a hint of a lisp, his eyelids fluttering in a feminine
manner.

I did not believe what I had heard. Not at first. Not later.
The question raised again, this time not simply curious but
latent with lust. It was as much out of character as the clothes
he wore. From Roland certainly, even Ramon, who I knew to be a
little minx. But Alesha? His tongue touched his upper lip,
slipping from side to side before it darted back in inside. My
heart pounded. I could not answer. He had been far too direct. It
wasn't him speaking. I could not say what I wanted with someone
else present. Not like this, with a transvestite and his junior
smirking with self-satisfied amusement. Ramon had put him up to
it.

"Won't you get cold wearing that, Alesha?" I muttered.

"You'll have to keep me warm then, won't you?" Alesha
giggled teasingly.

I felt a hot surge. It was followed immediately by a cold
chill. I resented being there even as I felt my penis growing.

"Oooh, I like the sound of that," Marius snickered
gleefully.

Ramon giggled. "I did his nails too. Show them, Lesha."

Shyly, Alesha held out his androgynous hands. His
fingernails had been painted blue to match his eyes. His smile
was enigmatic, sensuous, but otherwise incomprehensible to me.
His eyelids flickered in the same feminine manner that I had
observed the night before as we walked around the observation
deck of the Empire State Building. Our eyes met. Was he thinking
the same thoughts that I had? I wanted to be somewhere else.

"You bought the clothes for Ramona?" I asked, hoping to
escape from what had become a dilemma.

Marius nodded. "Actually, I had them specially made for him
when I was in Mexico. Just to see. You know what it's like at the
club. Of course, I should have known better. Leather really
doesn't suit Ramona at all I'm afraid."

It was difficult to imagine Ramon wearing anything other
than a dress, like the one he had on, or fancy slacks and a
halter top.

"But I do like leather on some boys," Marius added
cryptically as he walked to the dresser. "Ramona, come here dear
and let me finish your make-up."

Obediently, Ramon turned around. He faced an elaborate arch-
shaped mirror that was behind a Louis XVI Style, gilded console
table, its pink and white marble top serving as a repository of
an array of make-up tubes, bottles, and jars. I had seen a
similar table auctioned at Sotheby's for nearly twenty-thousand
dollars. If anything, this table had even more ornamentation of
scrolled leaves and flowers.

Marius selected from among several dozen lipsticks until he
found a color that he liked.

"I think Primrose for tonight, Ramona. Perhaps I'll mix in a
little Tuscany to bring out the shape. You do look so charming in
the right tone of red."

Alesha smiled slightly. When Marius used his falsetto voice
it was very easy to be amused. I shook my head slightly,
cautioning him. Not that I was afraid Alesha would say anything
deliberately hurtful, because I was confident that he wouldn't,
but I knew that Marius was very sensitive about using the right
make-up. It was important him, part of his personae.

Ramon pursed his lips and tilted his head up. Expertly,
Marius went to work continuing the transformation of a ten-year-
old Mexican boy into an exotic maiden of indeterminate age. Like
Alesha, Ramon was beautiful, although in a very different way.
His Mediterranean complexion, his nearly black hair, his large
moody eyes, all combined to convey a dark sensuality that was
very arousing.

"There! That's much better," Marius said with self-satisfied
admiration of his own precise annulment of Ramon's gender.

All that remained of the 'boy' was the length of his hair,
and within a few months even that vestige of masculinity would be
gone. Ramon beamed. With a few deft strokes of the brush, Marius
applied flecks of glitter to Ramon's cheeks and eyebrows. The
effect was just as startling as the careful lengthening of his
eyebrows.

Meanwhile, Alesha had come over to stand beside me.
Constantly, my eyes travelled up and down his lean lithe body.
Seeing him dressed in leather was having an effect. My self-
control was being tested to the limit. His bottom was
particularly inviting, slightly pinched cheeks, twin globes
emphasized by a deep seam and shiny black leather. My hand
dropped down onto Alesha's buttocks and I patted him gently.

"Maybe we should leave, Ramona, and let our two lovebirds go
to it. It won't be the first time a boy's lost his cherry on this
bed will it, Ramona?" Marius said pointedly.

Playfully, I slapped the firm mounds with my hand. "Not
tonight."

"Well, it's time we went to greet the rest of our guests,
Ramona," Marius announced in his now-familiar voice. He smirked
at me. "Sheldon, if you plan on being with your darling Alesha
for a while, there's some K-Y in the drawer beside the bed."

"I don't think we'll be needing that, Maria," I rebuked
lightheartedly.

I held my hand out, inviting Alesha to take hold. He smiled
nervously. His eyes flickered back and forth, glancing at the man
and boy who now looked as feminine as any mother and her
daughter. He watched them leave.

"Weird," he murmured to himself.

"Marius and Ramon?"

"Huh? Yes. Don't you think so?"

He was struggling to understand, yet not even beginning to
make the inherent correlations with himself and me. I didn't
answer. There were some things Alesha would have to discover for
himself. After a few seconds, his small hand touched mine. His
fingers found their way onto my palm, his thumb brushing mine. We
started to walk.

"What's K-Y?"

"A type of lubricant," I answered simply.

"What's it lubricate?"

"Your body,... it's used when you have sex, Alesha. A man's
penis needs to be slippery for it to go inside you."

"Oh."

I gazed down, my eyes going from head to toe and back again.
I liked the black leather vest and shorts. I had always enjoyed
my trips to Germany, watching blond-headed boys in lederhosen,
yet those leather shorts were intended for a very different
purpose. While no smaller in size, the shorts that Alesha wore
had lacing that was an aphrodisiac to me. The scant tight clothes
suited him in a way I had never expected. It hid the parts that
needed hiding and revealed the rest of his body in a way that
could only be called erotic. I thought of a wild cat, prowling
for a mate. That was Alesha dressed in leather. Perhaps my mother
was correct. Clothes made the person after all.



ACT V Scene III

There was a spectacular gastronomy of food arranged on the
dining room table. The terrine of goose foie gras received my
immediate attention. I was careful not to place too much on the
first crisp cracker which was destined for the boy beside me. His
eyes sparkled when I held it up to him.

"It's foie gras, Alesha," I explained. "Quite tasty. It
might be a little strong for you, but I think you'll like it."

I did not mention that it was made from 100 percent pure
goose liver. Alesha smiled and silently nibbled on the piece of
toast. His expression was interesting to observe. Clearly, he had
never tasted anything like it before.

"It tastes a lot like the chicken pate stuff my mother
buys," he said, elegantly licking his lips. "But this is better."

By then I had downed two or three pieces myself and it was
time to move along. There was a tray of charcuteries and one of
fancy saucissons, most of which I managed to resist, at least
until I spied the Jambon de Bayonne, which some would argue was
the best ham specialty in all of France.

"You've had caviar, of course," I said as I directed Alesha
to continue on. "What you had last night was Beluga. This is
Osetra. It's still a sturgeon, but it's smaller and the caviar is
a different color."

"It was black at the restaurant," Alesha replied. "This is
sort of brown and the eggs are much smaller."

"You're very observant," I chuckled. "There's a third kind
which comes from the Sevruga and is even smaller."

"Does it taste different?" Alesha asked. He sounded hopeful.

"Too salty for you?" I teased.

Alesha smiled, ever shy.

"Last night you said your mother took you to the Caspian
sea?" I asked.

"Yes. I don't remember very much about it. She said when I
was little I used to swim naked."

I spooned some of the caviar onto a triangular slice of
toast. I offered it to Alesha. He quickly shook his head.

"Try some of the duck prosciutto," I suggested.

"I'd rather have some of the smoked salmon," Alesha
murmured. "My mother used to buy it when we first arrived,...
before,..."

"Before the accident?" I prompted.

He nodded briefly. He swallowed and sighed loudly. "She's
getting a lot better though, Mr. Beaufort," he added with a hope-
filled voice. "When she comes back from Texas she'll be able to
solo again."

I did not reply beyond an equally hopeful smile. What Alesha
did not know was that I had asked Julian to let me know the
doctor's prognosis for his mother. It was not good. She would be
lucky to be able to dance for a few more years. She had more than
sufficient skill to become a teacher at the Academy and I had
suggested to Julian that he should arrange to make that happen.

With his immediate hunger satisfied, Alesha wandered off to
find Ramon. His bottom, so delightfully sheathed in shiny black
leather, like every time I saw it looked good enough to eat.

My taste was not piqued by the salmon. Only Norwegian or
Irish salmon was worthy of the name. This was Canadian, and
probably farm-raised at that. It was the only item on the table
whose quality Marius' caterer had failed to appreciate. I sampled
the truffle mousse and found it to my liking.

"Eating again, Sheldon?"

I turned, still working on a thick slice of Moulard duck, a
hybrid cross of female Pekin and a male Muscovy duck. It had been
sauted in a sauce equal to anything that a true Gascon chef could
do.

"I didn't know you were a duck aficionado," Julian
continued. "Boys yes, duck no. You're a man of many surprises."

"Ah," I said smacking my lips. "But you see, I pretend it's
a thigh of boy."

Julian laughed unconvincingly. "How are you this evening,
Sheldon?"

"Fine. And yourself?"

"Okay."

I studied Julian for a few seconds. "Is there something
bothering you."

He looked blank, then he shrugged nervously. He breathed out
slowly.

"Oh, I don't know." He sighed loudly. "You know how it is,
Sheldon. Once they start getting older,...."

"Did you have a fight with Roland?"

Julian shrugged again. "I wouldn't exactly call it fight,...
It was more of a disagreement."

"About what?" I asked. Julian winced. "Do you want to talk
about it?"

"Hm,... Yes,... I suppose I do." He sighed again. "It's hard
to believe but Rollie wants me to start using a condom, Sheldon."

"Oh!"

"I've never used a rubber with him before. I mean I didn't
have to for obvious reasons. Then, right out of the blue, last
night,... when we got back from the club,.... I had his booty all
greased up and ready to go. Just when I was about to boink him he
said he wanted me to put one on. We ended up with a college fuck
and a mess on the sheets instead."

I nodded understandingly, or what I thought showed some
compassion. I knew what Julian was thinking, what he was worrying
about. Some gay boys were fickle. Indeed, at one time or another
most boys went through a stage. It usually happened when they
were well into puberty. Hormones caused them to be capricious,
temperamental, volatile. For some boys it went beyond flirting.
The temptation was simply more than they could handle. After all,
they were at their sexual prime and desired by all. I was
surprised that Roland was fickle. He had never struck me as being
the kind of boy who was promiscuous. No wonder Julian was
distressed.

"Did you ask him why?"

"Of course. Not right then, naturally. I wanted to ask him
if he'd been with someone else. I know he would have denied it. I
was so upset. Anyway, this morning I asked him about it and he
said his teacher was talking about it in his health class, the
need to be careful and about how dangerous it was to have
unprotected sex, especially for gays."

"Well, that's certainly true."

"Of course it is. I've told him exactly the same thing as
well. We all need to be very careful, but it's never made a
difference until last night. I've never liked using a rubber and
there was no need because I was his first and only. I told him he
didn't need protection from me, at least not like that."

"And?" I prompted again.

"He said I didn't need protection from him either, but it
would still be safer. Sheldon, he said it would be safer for me.
Damn! You know what that means, don't you?"

"What?" I asked patiently. There was no point in jumping to
conclusions.

"He's either fucking with someone else or else he's going
to."

"Maybe," I ventured. "There is another explanation, Julian,"
I suggested.

"What? If he thinks I'm fucking another boy, he's crazy."

"It wouldn't be the first time a boy got an idea like that
into his head, Julian. Boys can be awfully jealous of their men
too. However, I was thinking of something else."

"Such as?" Julian asked nervously.

"He's telling the truth," I answered simply.

"I don't follow."

I smiled. "Maybe I'm wrong, Julian, but everything I've seen
so far leads me to believe that the two of you are in head-over-
heels in love."

"That's what I thought too, until yesterday that is."

"Did he meet someone at the club? Another boy perhaps?" I
asked patiently.

"No. Rollie was with me the entire time. In fact, he was all
over me. He had his hand in my pants most of the night. The
little bugger got me to come twice."

"Hm,... I wonder what that means," I posed sarcastically.
"Is it possible he's beginning to realize what it means to really
love someone?" I smiled. "What it would mean to him if you
weren't there? If you want my opinion, Roland is worried about
losing you."

"Oh!" Julian exclaimed. "Oh, for Heaven's sake! I'm so mad!"
he laughed. "He even licked the spunk off his fingers after he
got me off at the club. I can't believe this. I've spent the
entire day and all of last night going through hell. For a while,
I even thought Rollie might have been interested in you,... You
of all people. How wrong could I be?"

"Am I that bad, Julian?" I said, suddenly disgruntled.

"I didn't mean it like th-" Julian froze, his mouth agape,
unable to finish the word. "Oh,... Oh my!"

I glanced over my shoulder. Julian was staring at Alesha and
Roland. The 'leather lace-up boys' had returned together. In
addition to the lace-up vest, Roland was wearing the black
leather chaps he had mentioned when we were at Appleboys. They
were loosely laced, on both sides all the way from hip to ankle,
revealing triangles of pale skin on the outside of his thigh and
leg. Like cowboy chaps, the real ones, there was no seat.
Roland's nicely rounded bottom was exposed for all the world to
see, its shape enhanced by the diagonal straps that held the
chaps in place. His bottom looked plump and inviting, the kind of
bottom that was guaranteed to make any gay man drool. While I
gazed longingly at Roland's smooth boyish buttocks, Julian stared
fixedly at Alesha who was certainly no less entrancing in his
tight shorts and meager vest.

"My God, he's off-the scale gorgeous. But leather, Sheldon?"
Julian admired effusively. "I thought you weren't into it."

"I'm a recent convert," I admitted ruefully. "Actually,
those are Ramon's clothes, but after tonight I think I'm going to
get some for Alesha."

"You should! What a fabulous body, and what a lovely way to
show it off! He's so incredibly sexy. And those legs of his are
to die for! I warned you he was going to be a little minx, didn't
I? Maybe I should be worrying about Rollie after all?"

I smiled appreciatively. Standing beside Roland, rubbing his
finger back and forth across his lips, it was difficult to
conceive of Alesha as being anything but a young homosexual boy
in the process of coming out. But a 'minx'? A 'minx' with all of
the attendant overtones of uninhibited sexuality. Was that really
Alesha? A boy who would much rather dance than do anything else.
Was he going to be promiscuous? I hoped not. I would not be able
to survive the heart break.

"'Minx'?" I said snidely.

Julian smirked. "Well, I could have called him a vixen
because he's so 'foxy'. He's not really a minx either, but it's
the best I could come up with."

"I must admit that I think of him as something of a cat," I
said with amusement.

"A lynx without the ears. A cheetah is too big for him and
not nearly graceful enough," Julian laughed. "Of course, neither
is a lynx, for that matter."

For no reason at all that I could discern beyond the desire
to make me aware that he realized he was being observed, Alesha
raised his hand and waved at me. He was too far away to hear what
we were saying, yet he sensed that we were talking about him. I
waved back. He smiled and raised his eyebrows, making a surprised
but obviously happy face.

"They make quite a pair, don't they?" Julian continued
proudly.

"Yes, they do," I agreed.

"If Alesha wanted to have sex with Rollie, would you let
him?"

"I thought you were worried about Roland wanting to use a
condom," I remarked cynically.

I had not denied the possibility, but at the same time, I
silently rejected it out of hand. Not that it was improbable,
because gay boys often played around, but because I could not
countenance the possibility of losing Alesha to someone else.

Julian laughed. "Well, if there was any boy who I'd be
agreeable to Rollie fucking, Alesha's the only one."

Before I could compose a response to that, Marius escorted
the last of his guests to meet us. I had been introduced to
Elliot Allen perhaps a year or two ago, but the setting was a
special fund-raiser ball for the arts in general. He was the
master of ceremonies at that elaborate event, an ideal choice for
he possessed both bearing and distinguished presence, and he had
sufficient worldly experience to fascinate his audience of
wealthy donors.

"Mr. Beaufort, it's a great pleasure to meet you again,
although under somewhat different circumstances," Elliot
announced with a smirk as we shook hands.

"Sheldon, please," I offered warmly. "May I call you
Elliot?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

"It seems that introductions aren't needed here," Marius
snickered. I didn't realize you knew each other. Elliot's only
joined the club recently."

"I saw him there last week," I said.

The last time that I had seen the boy who was standing
beside Elliot, I had assumed him to be about thirteen or
fourteen. Closer, and in much better light, I revised my
estimate. He was certainly no older than twelve. However, he was
a lanky boy, and very tall for his age. At first glance, there
was very little about him to imply that his sexual orientation
was different to the majority of boys. His clothes were 'normal',
the latest fashion from one of the specialty retailers for young
males. He carried a gym bag in his hand. He was good looking, a
lot like his father, with a prominent jaw and high cheek bones.
His dark-brown hair was cut short in an athletic style. He looked
not only as if he played a lot of basketball, but he was very
good at it.

"This is Matthew," Elliot began. "You already know Marius
and Julian, of course, but you haven't met Mr. Beaufort yet, have
you?"

"Hello Matthew," I acknowledged.

The boy shook hands stiffly, standing close to his father.

"Well go say hi to the others and then get changed," Elliot
said to him. "His mother was home when we left to come here," he
said ambiguously.

A moment later Matt had joined the other boys for a few
moments before leaving to change his clothes. I thought about
calling Alesha over for him to meet Matthew's father, however
there would be other opportunities later in the evening.

"He's your's, I take it?" Elliot remarked. He was looking at
Alesha.

"I'm sorry," I replied absently. I did not like the
implication of ownership. "Who's mine?"

"The doll baby with Rollie? I saw him dancing at the club
last week so I sent Matt over to find out who he was," Elliot
continued. "The boys were calling him 'Alice'," he smirked.

"His name is Alesha," I said primly.

"He's one beautiful boy, that's for sure. I read in the
Sunday paper that he's an excellent dancer."

I nodded. Alesha and the new fellowship had been covered in
the Sunday edition of the New York Times six days earlier. The
page was prominently displayed in Alesha's bedroom. Part of me
was exceedingly proud of Alesha, the rest of me was worried sick
about the media attention. There were a lot of crazy people in
New York. I had made a point of warning Dewon to be extra
careful. For good reason, Alesha did not know that Dewon carried
a 10mm Glock-29 pistol.

"He's Russian. From Kiev or somewhere, isn't he?" Elliot
pursued with a reporter's instincts.

"Kiev is in the Ukraine," I corrected.

"Oh! yes, I suppose it is. With my job, I should know things
like that."

I smiled. "Don't worry. I got it wrong too. The last time I
was in Kiev was when it was all part of the Soviet Union. Alesha
had to explain it to me." I turned to Julian. "I took him to the
Russian Tea Room last night because I thought he might enjoy it.
It wasn't exactly a mistake, but it wasn't far from it."

"Why, was he patriotic?" Julian chortled. "Or has he been
saying 'nyet' instead of 'da'."

"So far most of what I've heard from him is 'pozhalusta' and
'spasibo'. He's very polite compared to American boys. Actually,
he speaks Ukrainian interchangeably with Russian so he had the
waiter fit to be tied. He was very amusing last night."

"Flirting was he?" Julian asked teasingly.

"Not at all. I'm sure our waiter saw him groping me under
the table," I admitted.

"Oh, that's all!" Julian raised an eyebrow. "About time!"

"You're in love," Elliot remarked with a smirk.

"Me?"

"Yes, you are, Sheldon," Julian agreed. "He's all you ever
talk about. Alesha this and Alesha that."

"I don't!" I denied hotly. "Besides you're no better with
Roland."

"Now, now," Marius interjected. "Let's not fight over our
darlings. Who wants some more champagne?"

We filled our glasses and toasted 'to boys' again. The
conversation followed a predictable path. We talked about other
men and boys. Were Leigh and Antonio de Fratelli going to get
'married' by a real priest? Was Trevor Crenshaw going to have a
'coming out' party for Nikola? Where was the best place in new
York City to buy clothes for boys? Why did boys prefer boxers
over briefs? And there a lengthy and very personalized discourse
on lubricants that lasted all of ten-minutes--the lubricant that
was.

"So what do you use, Elliot?" Julian asked boldly. "K-Y or
Vaseline?"

Elliot chuckled. "You expect me to answer that? It's
tantamount to admitting to incest with my son."

"Then you haven't had him?" Julian baited.

"I presume 'had' is intended in the biblical sense," I asked
slyly.

"Is there any other?" Julian quipped

"Not that I'm aware off."

"Well, have you HAD him?" Julian persisted.

"Let me think about that for a moment."

Marius giggled. "You have to think about it, dearie?"

Elliot smirked. "Let's just say Matt might not be a virgin.
Of course, from the look of Roland's butt in those chaps he's
wearing I'd say he wasn't either."

"Ah! You'd be one-hundred-percent right and you haven't even
looked between his cheeks," Julian laughed. "Is it still incest
when you fuck your nephew, or does it have to be with your son?"
he asked, glancing at Elliot.

"Elliot, you don't have to answer that," Marius said
gleefully.

Julian laughed. "Don't worry! I'd be willing to bet the farm
there's only one virgin here tonight. Isn't that right, Sheldon?"

He regarded me with amusement. I shrugged. "Like I told you,
Julian, there's no rush. He's only just turned eleven."

"I rectified Ramona at nine," Marius admitted with a
giggle. "On her birthday, too. My special present, you might say.
When did you and Roland start, Julian?"

"Precisely? Hm,... it was a bit more than two years ago, so
he was eleven. September the 23rd, at seven p.m. We came home
from a baseball game, the Mets and the Red Sox, I think, although
my mind really wasn't on the game. His mother wasn't picking him
up until nine. It lasted nearly all of the two hours," Julian
said fondly.

"Two hours? You cruel, cruel man. The poor thing must have
been so sore," Marius tittered.

Julian ignored the jibe. "Okay, now it's your turn to spill
the beans, Elliot."

"Me?"

"Yes, you," Marius said in a teasing voice. "And we want all
of the dirty details, don't we boys? It isn't everyday we have a
father and son affair to talk about."

"Um,..."

Elliot was uncertain. Like the rest of us, he had been
drinking steadily since he had arrived. The boys were nowhere to
be seen, although the loud sounds of laughter and the occasional
shrieks of victory or impending doom that came from an adjoining
room could be reasonably interpreted to mean that they were busy
playing Nintendo.

Finally, Elliot sighed. "This doesn't leave this room?" he
demanded seriously.

We nodded.

"It started a long while ago," he ventured softly. "I don't
remember exactly when it happened. My wife was away, that I do
remember, and Matt was sleeping in my room. He had only just
turned eight. His birthday was a few weeks earlier I think."

"Go on," Julian prompted, rubbing his hands together
gleefully. "Get to the good bits."

Elliot gave him a sour look. "I loved him,... I loved him an
awful lot, only it wasn't the way I was supposed to love him, you
understand... I couldn't help it. I loved him as a boy, as well
as being my son." He paused. "It's different when he's your son."

"Different how?" I asked seriously.

"The amount of time you get to spend together for one thing.
You know everything about him,... You see I realized he was gay a
few years earlier. Even when he was three or four Matt would
stare at my penis. If we were alone, he would play with it while
we were lying on the couch watching tv."

"Just call me Ace," Roland shrieked at the top of his voice.
"Crash and burn, babe!"

We heard laughter that lasted for nearly a minute until the
boys resumed their game.

"We used to cuddle together at night. I used to get into his
bed and a read a book with him until he fell asleep. He'd always
put his hand on me. He liked making it stiff, I suppose.... He
was so beautiful that night. We'd been in the jacuzzi together
and he kept rubbing himself against me the whole time so I knew
he was interested.... I thought he was asleep," Elliot said
quietly. "I couldn't help myself."

"You didn't?" Julian asked. He smirked. "You did! You did it
while he was asleep!"

"Um,..." Elliot was glum. "The thing is that I really didn't
mean to." He paused, guiltily staring at the floor. "I couldn't
stop myself. I'd been playing with him back there for quite a
while, you see. It was mostly a game. Whenever we wrestled I'd
make a point of tickling his butt and putting my finger against
his hole. Matt would try to get me to tickle him there even when
we were lying on the couch so I knew he liked it."

"Tickle where," Marius teased, pretending a degree of
innocence that was clearly unwarranted considering his attire.

Still, I smiled as did Elliot, although his much greater
amusement probably stemmed from something that had happened and
he had just then recollected.

"For Heaven's sake, Maria," Julian rebuked. "Where every boy
is ticklish when he's given half a chance. I've never met a boy
who doesn't like a finger up his ass."

"Oh there," Marius said with an exaggerated gesture.

"Anyway, it was getting so I could get one finger in quite
far without much effort at all. I could get it in deep enough to
feel,... well, around his prostate. He liked that a lot. He
wasn't too keen on two, but he always let me do it after he was
relaxed."

"What boy doesn't?" Julian laughed.

"Well,... so naturally he loosened up very quickly after I
had gotten that far. I'd always wanted to try it. You know how it
is,... It's what guys do. So while he was asleep I started
rubbing it against his hole. I used spit at first, but after a
while it was way too dry so I got some of the hand lotion from
the bathroom."

"Not quite as good as K-Y, but it'll do in a pinch if
there's nothing else around," Julian interjected. He smirked
gleefully. "The only problem I've ever had with Rollie was a
little flatulence afterwards."

"I really didn't intend for it to go inside," Elliot
continued solemnly, missing the joke entirely. "It felt so nice
and he was sleeping so soundly,.... I guess I just pushed a
little bit harder one time. It sort of popped inside. The next
thing I knew I could feel his ring clamped around my cock head,
and the most incredible heat. I had no idea it would feel like
that. It was like I was going to cum any second."

"Ah, the infamous 'cum in the bum' as soon as you start
packing fudge," Julian laughed. "Been there, done that. If I had
a dollar for every time I came quickly, I'd be as rich as
Sheldon."

I gave him a look that was intended to express my distaste.
Julian shrugged it off. He was too inebriated to care. There
would be more insults before the night was out, although none of
them would be premeditated or calculated to cause distress. At
that moment, there was another round of laughter from the room
where the boys were. I meandered across to the dining table and
picked up several slices of the Jambon. It was very good.

"It sounds like the boys are having fun," I observed, hoping
to relieve the uncomfortable silence that had started when I
left.

"We've come this far so now you have to tell us all of it,
Elliot," Marius pleaded gleefully. "You got the head in okay.
Then what happened?"

Elliot ran his hand through his graying hair. He smiled,
remembering.

"Damn, but it felt so good. It was my first time in a boy
as well. Like I said, I didn't know anything could feel that
good. I had to keep doing it. He wasn't very tight so I started
humping very gently. I couldn't have stopped by that point even
if my wife walked in. I was so hard that every time I moved, it
went in a little bit further. Before I knew it, I was in nearly
all the way and his chute was loosening up nicely. He wasn't
nearly as tight as I expected."

"And he was eight?" Marius asked with a lewd smirk.

"He was big for his age, but I'm pretty big myself," Elliot
guffawed.

"At least where it counts for boys," Julian snickered.

"I'm sure it was easier because he was sleeping," Elliot
commented. "He was more relaxed or something like that, I expect.
I don't think it could have happened otherwise."

"Did he stay asleep?" I mused, despite my inherent aversion
to doing such a thing.

For me, sex was about love and mutual pleasuring. From my
very first experience with Martin, I concluded that even if a boy
did not take the lead by requesting sex or doing whatever was
needed to arouse the man, at the very least he should be
agreeable to the idea. To do anything else was nothing but abuse
in my opinion.

Elliot smiled fondly. "Ah,... Finally, we come to the crux
of the matter. Yes, Sheldon. He woke up, of course."

"And?" Julian prompted.

"As I said, I was too far gone to stop. And Matt, well let's
just say that he had been awake for a while before I realized it.
He was obviously enjoying it. He started humping back at me.
About a minute later we had our first orgasm together. I had
never come that much before. It just kept spurting and spurting
into him."

"I'm impressed," Julian remarked.

"Needless to say I felt terrible about what happened,"
Elliot continued. "I loved him so much, much more than a father
should love his son. I used to think I loved Matt more than any
person could love someone. I knew at the time that I had done a
horrible thing," he said sadly, shaking his head. "I didn't sleep
at all that night. I taken advantage of him. I thought a lot
about killing myself. I couldn't bear to look at him the next
day. But the funny thing was that Matt was happier than I'd ever
seen him."

"Does that sound familiar, or what?" Julian chuckled. "It
took a while I imagine, but the next time he initiated, right?"

"How did you know?" Elliot asked curiously.

"I know boys," Julian winked. "However, if you must know,
it's not all that unusual, especially when the boy doesn't have
any guilt about it. Once they're used to it, most gay boys are
into it, even if they're immature. I've always said that's
nature's way for them so all they're really doing is following
their instincts."

"How so?"

"Well, unlike their straight friends, a gay boy can easily
get laid whenever the urge arises. He doesn't have to worry about
getting pregnant."

"That's Matt all right," Elliot admitted with a grin. "When
my wife's away, it's all he wants to do. He's perpetually horny."

We laughed. From my recollection, Martin had been no
different.

"And are we going to have a deflowering party in the
morning, Sheldon?" Marius teased, glancing at me.

I shook my head, finishing off the slices of ham.

Julian laughed. "I wouldn't take bets on it. The night's a
long way from being over. The way Alesha's dressed, I'd be
surprised if he still had his cherry when he wakes up tomorrow.
I'm sure I couldn't control myself if we were alone."

"I think that I can control myself," I rebuked.

Disinterested in furthering the conversation on a topic that
did little but depress me, I strolled away, heading to the dining
table once again. I took a clean plate and loaded it with a dozen
crostini and crackers, a slab of foie gras, and a good sized
portion of the Beluga. I refilled my glass and went to find
Alesha. At parties like this, I often found it more enjoyable to
be with the boys.

There is an old saying that says that eavesdroppers never
hear good things about themselves. I had not intended to overhear
the conversation, yet when I came closer, the few words that I
heard got my attention and stopped me from entering the room. I
remained out of sight, but well within hearing. Matthew and
Roland were comparing notes, a subject that was inherently
entertaining, and under different circumstances might have
provided some amusing tales to share with Elliot and Julian. Had
I known that I was going to be brought into the conversation, I
would have been quick to retreat.

"So how often do you get it, Matt?" Roland demanded.

"Right now it's mostly on the weekends, because she's home,"
Matthew answered morosely. "Sometimes Dad sneaks into my room in
the mornings while she's still asleep, or we go out to the
garage."

"That's it?" When he didn't answer, Roland taunted him. "So
you get it like how often? Maybe twice a week if you're lucky?"

"Get what twice a week?" Alesha asked curiously.

The other boys giggled. Ramon leaned close and whispered in
Alesha's ear.

"Oh!" Alesha said bashfully.

"I take it that fuzzy-nuts here is still a virgin," Matthew
said disparagingly.

"It won't be long before he isn't," Roland interrupted.

"I hope he's small for your sake."

"Huh? Who's small? I don't get it," Alesha muttered.

"Not who! I'm talking about his dick, you dummy," Matthew
chortled. "If his dick's half as fat as he is, it's going to hurt
like hell."

"Matt, there's no need to scare him," Roland reproached. "It
isn't that bad, Alesha. It hurts for a few minutes, that's all.
Like I told you at the Club, it feels like you're taking a big
poop, but in reverse."

"What I meant was it's weird. I don't know why you'd ever
want sex with a guy like that," Matt said suddenly.

Matthew's voice grated on my ears. It was already breaking.
Although it still possessed the endearing treble that made boys
so enjoyable to listen to, the telltale sound of puberty was
there when it was least expected. It would not be a boy's voice
much longer.

"Why not?" Alesha asked timidly.

"Geez. Go figure. With your looks you could do so much
better."

"Don't be a shit, Matt!"

"I'm not. I'm just saying what everyone else knows. He's
fat. Man, when he gets on top of a skinny runt like you, he's
going to squash you as flat as a pancake."

"Stop being an ass-hole," Roland said heatedly. "No one's
making fun of you."

"That's because there's nothing to make fun off," Matt
retorted. He laughed. "You've got to be a chubby chaser, Alesha.
I guess it takes all types. I mean why else would anyone want to
fuck with a guy like that? I'm surprised you can find his cock
under that belly of his. He even smells disgusting."

"He doesn't!" Alesha denied angrily.

"Come on, Alesha. Let's go watch a movie," Ramon suggested.

"Why are you being mean, Matt?"

"I'm not. I just trying to figure out what you see in him,
that's all. You're off-the-scale cute. You could have almost any
man you wanted, and you end up getting stuck with him. What do
you see in him anyway?" Matt taunted gleefully.

"Huh?"

"Does he turn you on?"

"Huh?" Alesha murmured nervously

"I guess you must like something soft to hold onto?"

"What?"

"He means a lot of older guys have trouble getting hard-
ons," Roland explained.

"Huh?" Again, Alesha's voice, increasingly uncertain.

"You don't know what a hard-on is?"

"Yes, I know," Alesha retorted.

"I bet he doesn't get one without popping a couple of Viagra
first," Matt joked. "Okay, so why do you like him."

"He's nice to me," Alesha answered quietly. "He's,... well
he's kewl. He's my friend."

"Jesus. And you want him in your ass because he's nice to
you?"

"Shut up, Matt!" Roland said irritably. "If you must know,
it's not his choice. His mother set it up."

"Hah, I thought it was something like that," Matt said
triumphantly. "Dad said he was richer than Croesus. Does he pay
your mom a lot?"

"Huh?" Alesha sounded nervous.

"Just ignore him, Alesha," Roland counseled. "Why are you
being such a creep?"

"I'm not. I'm sorry if I was being rude. But you've got to
admit that it's weird. Alesha's like a really slinky kid and he's
getting it off with him. It's like having sex with a hippo. You
couldn't pay me enough to let him in my butt."

"He doesn't pay my mom anything," Alesha said hotly.

"Then why did Rollie say she set it up?"

"I don't know. I mean, well, she did,... set it up I mean.
He's my patron," Alesha explained awkwardly.

"Your what?"

"My patron," Alesha repeated louder.

"Like as in customer?" Matt guffawed. "Whooohooo. We know
what that means, don't we guys? For fifty bucks it's ouchie,
ouchie, stick it up the tooshie, or should I say boy-pussy."

Alesha sighed loudly. "No. I meant patron as in a patron of
the arts. Mr. Beaufort runs a foundation that supports ballet."

"And Alesha's a really great dancer, so Mr. Beaufort
supports him too," Roland added confidently.

Matt laughed loudly. "And pigs can fly. What have you done
with him so far?"

Alesha sighed. "Nothing!"

"Nothing? You mean he hasn't even played with your dick?"
Matt asked gleefully. He did not wait to Alesha to answer. "Of
course, the big question is whether you've played with his?"

"Um,... well, yeah, I guess I have."

"When?"

"Like last night."

Three boys laughed. "So what happened?" Roland demanded.

"I played his peenie while we were in the restaurant."

"Ooooohhhh," Matt and Ramon teased together.

"Only it's not called a peenie," Matt jeered. "It's like
calling it a wiener. You don't do that unless you're a baby. It's
cock, or dick, or a prick, or meat, or,..."

"That's enough, Matt. I think he gets the point. It's cool,
Alesha. You've got to tell us everything that  happened, okay?"
Roland demanded gleefully.

"I told you already," Alesha replied hastily. "I did it
first. Then, Mr. Beaufort played with mine for a while,...."

"There's nothing to be ashamed off, Alesha. We're all gay
and we've all done it before."

"Yeah," Ramon giggled. "Come on, tell us."

"We went up to the top of the Empire State Building," Alesha
said reluctantly.

"And?"

"Um,... after a while he stuck his hand down my pants."

"He felt your dick? Cool! Did anyone see you?"

"I don't thinks so."

"Big fucking thrill. He felt you up. Is that all that
happened?" Matt teased.

"On the way home,...." Alesha began nervously.

"Yes?"

"I, um,... well, I took my clothes off,... in the back of
the car."

"Whoooo-oooohhhh. Naked in the Big Apple," Matt laughed.
"What did he do?"

Alesha didn't answer for a few moments. "He played with it
again and we talked about stuff," he answered uncertainly.

"He played with your dick?" Roland chortled. "In the limo?
Couldn't the chaffeur see?"

"No!" Alesha retorted. "There's like a really thick curtain
you pull across."

"Did he suck you too?" Ramon asked gleefully.

"Yes, I mean no! He didn't do that. He just played with it
and explained some sex stuff to me."

"But you wanted him to suck it, didn't you?" Matt taunted.
"Or did you chicken out?"

"Yes, I guess," Alesha said awkwardly. "I mean,.... I don't
know. I suppose so."

"When he wants to stick it in your ass, you're going to get
squashed trying to keep him happy, Alesha."

"Get off his case, Matt!" Roland admonished.

"Okay, I will. I just think it's gross, doing that with a
fat guy."

"Well, it's none of your business," Alesha retorted. "I
don't know what your problem is, Matt, but you can't solve it by
picking on me."

"I'm sorry, okay?" Matt said sulkily.

"Yeah, real sorry," Roland said cynically.

"I am. You guys are so lucky."

"Us? Why?"

"You don't know what it's like."

"Like what's like?" Roland jeered.

"I love my mom and all, but she's always watching me like a
hawk. She knows something's going on between me and Dad. She just
doesn't know what. Dad's worried she's going to find out. I can't
even kiss him good night any more because she said I was too
old."



ACT V, Scene IV

I backed away, realizing that the conversation had taken a
different turn. I was depressed as I wandered through the main
floor of the house, exploring on my own. It was soon apparent
that Marius had the same appreciation of fine art that I did,
although his collection came from a very different era. It was
entirely in keeping with the modern design of the house.

I was surprised to find two Andy Warhol sketches in the
guest bathroom. One was a drawing of a naked youth with an
erection, the other a close-up of what appeared to be the same
penis, but limp. Like most boy-lovers, Marius had found a way to
communicate his obsession to anyone who was interested in the
same thing. In my case, it consisted of a Von Gloeden photograph
of two naked boys embracing beside an enormous clay vase on a
terraced hillside in Taormina, Sicily.

Finally, needing to be alone to think, I found a comfortable
seat on the terrace and settled back to enjoy the food and
champagne. Was I that fat that people made fun of me behind my
back? My weight had crept up over the years, although I had never
been svelte. I had grown up in bizarre surroundings without a
father and with a mother who believed, or at least conveyed to
me, that boys were supposed to be stocky. Girls were thin,
sylphlike creatures with willowy bodies that nature intended for
dancing. There was always an abundance of food in the house, and
in New York City, not a lot of opportunities for a boy to
exercise.

The sky darkened, becoming mauve, then indigo, then finally
black. On the distant horizon I could see a lighter sky above the
distant city. A cool breeze lifted up from the water, chilling my
hands enough that I placed them in my pockets. I felt no
compunction about going back inside. I inhaled the pine-scented
air and absorbed the peaceful setting while I dwelled on thoughts
about Alesha, about my life, about how little time I had left. In
a few weeks I would be fifty six. My life was already more three-
quarters over. At the rate I was going, I would be lucky to reach
seventy or seventy-five. Surrounded by forest, I heard the
scraping and rustling of wild animals, sounds that one never
heard in New York or Paris.

"What are you doing out here, Mr. Beaufort?"

It was Alesha, his voice soft, curious, ever endearing. I
looked over my shoulder. He had approached to within a few feet
and I had not heard him. He was just as beautiful as I continued
to remember him. His lean long legs were a delight to look at. I
smiled weakly, feeling more than a little bit jealous of his
youth.

"Just thinking, that's all Alesha."

"It's nice here," he said wistfully.

"Yes, it is."

"It's different to the city. It's so peaceful."

I nodded. I sighed. "I think I would get bored though."

"Probably," Alesha agreed.

"No muggings," I added. "I'd miss getting mugged. I wouldn't
know what to do if I wasn't always watching behind my back."

Alesha giggled. "Have you really been mugged?"

"Yes. Three times in the last two years. It's getting to be
something of a habit."

"Oh!" Alesha sounded worried.

"Don't worry. I've stopped carrying cash so now I just hand
my wallet over and tell them to get lost."

Alesha smiled uncertainly, not at all convinced that my
light-hearted comments were as amusing as I intended them to be.
He stepped forward, approaching until his hand dropped onto the
back of the chair, an Italian stainless-steel and canvas creation
that belonged in the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I liked having
Alesha close to me. He made me feel wanted. I reached behind and
placed my hand on top of his, rubbing gently.

"We'll be in Paris in a few weeks," I observed. "Are you
excited?"

"Right now I'm too worried about the solo for the graduation
to think about anything else, Mr. Beaufort. I don't know why they
had to go and change it to the Russian Sailors' Dance."

"Especially when you're from the Ukraine."

We both laughed. I patted the side of the chair and moved to
the side so that Alesha could sit down next to me. Gently, I
stoked his back, making sure to keep my fingers over the leather
of his vest. It did not seem right to touch his bare skin, not
without getting his approval first. Alesha shivered.

"Don't worry about it, Alesha. You'll give a performance to
make everyone sit up in their seats. I know you will. Are you
cold?"

"A bit."

"You probably should go back inside. What are the other boys
doing?"

"They were playing video games until I came out here."

"You're not interested in that sort of thing very much are
you, Alesha?" I asked.

He shrugged. "It's okay, I suppose. I'm just not very good
at it."

"Would you like a Nintendo or whatever it is that boys play
for your own?"

"I guess. Only it would be a waste because I wouldn't get to
play it very often." He sighed. "Mama's right when she says being
a dancer is pretty much a full time job."

"From what I've seen from you so far, that's certainly true.
All you ever do is dance, dance, dance," I teased.

"I do other stuff as well," Alesha said defensively.

"Such as?"

"Hm,... I let you take me to fun places," Alesha suggested.

"That's only because I want to show you off."

"So? I don't mind being showed off. I had a lot of fun at
the Russian Tea Room."

"So did I," I mused. "It was almost as much fun as later on
at the Empire State Building."

Alesha grinned and inclined his head towards the house.
"They want to play charades."

"I take it that you don't?"

"I've never played," Alesha admitted soulfully. "They were
trying to teach me what do before I came out to get you. They
want to play boys against men."

"Then, I guess we had better go back inside and join the
party," I replied. "Alesha?"

"Yes."

"Don't rush through life. Take your time and enjoy being
young."

"Okay," he murmured vaguely.

I sighed. He would never understand until he was much older
and then it would be too late. Boys always grew up too fast.



ACT V Scene V



The game lasted for more than an hour, the under fourteen-
year-olds soundly defeating the men. Needless to say, their
victory was not accomplished without a great deal of cheating,
including heated whispering among the junior team and hand
signals from the boys that included attempts to spell the words
out. Unless the boys were making the titles up, there were dozens
of television shows that we had never heard of. They assured us
that the shows were all on Nickelodeon.

"Now that we've been thrashed at charades, what's next?" I
laughed.

"How about,..." Roland smirked at Julian, ".... Truth or
Dare?"

Julian grimaced at what was obviously an inside joke.

"I'm game," Marius giggled. "But absolutely no dares that
divide up pairs, unless it's just for the boys, and then we have
veto power."

"Okay," Elliot agreed. ""You must swear to tell the truth,
the whole truth, and nothing but the truth!"

"So help me God," Julian added.

"This isn't a religious experience, Julian, and anything I
say definitely won't be admissible in court," Elliot laughed.
"And one more thing in that regard. Everything that happens
remains confidential. It isn't Washington; there absolutely
should be no leaks."

"Other than that, anything goes I hope?" Julian laughed.

"Yes. Are we agreed?"

"How are we going to keep score?" Matt asked sheepishly.

"Easy. There are no points for telling the truth, just for
dares. The person who gives the dare gets to score it. If he
cheats, then we'll all know and get him when it's his turn. The
team with the most points wins," Elliot explained. He winked at
me and Julian.

"Okay, that's fair. Only this time the boys have to play
with their men," Roland said pointedly, as if there was
disagreement on the question. "Otherwise we might not want to do
some of the dares."

"I hope there aren't any other rules. I'm getting so
confused," Marius said flippantly.

We laughed. I glanced at Alesha, who had managed to squeeze
onto the Modernist cube-shaped couch between me and Julian, with
Roland on Julian's other side. His leg was pressed against mine,
and I placed my arm around his shoulders and pulled him close to
me. It took a minute to work out how we were going to take turns.
We settled on rolling dice, one white and one red. The couple
with the highest total would ask questions of the couple with the
lowest, with the boys being red and men being white to decide who
asked and who answered.

The boys rolled. On the first roll, Alesha and I scored a
very safe eight; Julian and Roland, five; Marius and Ramon,
seven; and Elliot and Matt, ten. Matt's red dice was six. he
smirked at Julian.

"How often do you fuck him?" Matt blurted out.

Julian's eyes took on bug-sized proportions. The rest of us
laughed. Even Alesha.

"A lot," Julian quipped. "You went straight for the jugular,
didn't you?" he winked at Matt.

"Not enough!" Matt exclaimed. He was grinning from ear to
ear. "You have to elaborate, Julian."

"What with dates, places, and times?"

"Every day? Twice a day? Never on school nights?" Marius
interjected.

"Okay," Julian pretended to grumble. "How often do I fuck
Rollie? Let's see. Every night for starters. We always do it
right before we go to sleep. Sometimes I nail his ass when we
wake up, but that's usually only on the weekends. Is that enough
for a truth?"

Matt nodded. We moved to round two. Again, Alesha and I were
safe. Marius and Ramon had the high score and Matt and Elliot had
the low score. Ramon, smirking, had to ask his question of Matt.

"What's your favorite position?"

"On top," Matt chortled.

"In your dreams bum-boy," Elliot laughed. "He likes any
position where I can get it in nice and deep."

"It's not your question," Marius pointed out. "Matt has to
answer it."

"Okay.... I have to think about this a bit first," Matt
giggled. "Hm, my favorite position? I think I like doing it
standing up more than when I'm lying down."

"Ooohhhh, is that because he likes to play leap frog, or
because it opens his ass up more," Marius snickered.

Matt glowered at him, but didn't respond. One glance at his
expression was enough to show he was plotting revenge.

"Is that enough?" he grumbled. "Or do you need specifics,
like how far my legs are apart, or how far he puts it in?"

Ramon shrugged, not particularly interested in pursuing the
matter. Marius was stroking Ramon's thigh, sliding his hand under
the dress until Ramon closed his legs. Alesha and I lost round
three. Julian won the right to question me. I glared at him,
silently warning him not to go too far.

"How does Alesha look nude?"

"Huh?"

"You heard me, Sheldon. You have to describe the important
details."

"Unless I take a dare," I answered.

"Your choice," Julian laughed. "You never know. The dare
might be to take his clothes off," he smirked.

I glanced at Alesha. He had scrunched down in his seat as
soon as he heard the question, his face quickly reddening. I took
a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Okay. Um,... well,... let me think about this,... He's
beautiful; very, very beautiful."

"Ooooohhhh," Marius tittered.

"Not enough! Not nearly enough! Details, Mr. Beaufort, lots
and lots of details."

"Okay," I answered impatiently.

Alesha wasn't cowering, but he was not far from it. He was
definitely embarassed, which seemed out-of-place given how he was
dressed. The leather shorts and vest were very revealing.

"Well, you can see a lot of him already," I began boldly.
"What you can't see is just as wonderful."

"That's obvious," Julian chided. "Let's take it a piece at a
time. You can start by telling us about his butt."

"It's small.... And very firm,.... pinched in the sides, so
it's not rounded like Roland's butt is," I added with a smirk.

Roland laughed, stood up, and turned around. He mooned us,
not needing to drop his pants to do it. When he sat down again,
and the laughter had subsided, Julian nodded for me to continue.

"Let's move on to the other important part."

"Um,... It's about as big as my finger and he isn't
circumcised," I said quickly. "Is that enough?"

"I'll let it go this time, but you'll have to do better next
time."

"I owe you one for that, Julian," I said with a tone that
was somewhere between being grateful and sarcastic.

Round four was an opportunity for Julian to have revenge on
Matt. He went straight to the heart of the matter.

"Have you ever watched your dad fuck your mother?"

Matt blushed. He swallowed. He didn't answer.

"Truth or dare?" Julian prodded.

"Dare."

"Okay! Dare it is."

Julian rubbed his hands together and then cracked his
knuckled. Roland whispered something in his ear. Julian nodded.
This was going to be good.

"I dare you," he began seriously. He was having difficulty
not to burst into laughter. "To put your cock in your Dad's
champagne."

"That's all?" Matt said caustically.

Julian smiled. He had saved the best for last. "Then your
dad either has to lick it off your dick or you have to pee in the
glass."

"Does that mean I have to drink it?" Elliot asked.

"Only if he pees in it," Roland jeered.

"He won't, will he?" Alesha whispered urgently.

Matt stood up and ceremoniously began to unfasten his
zipper. He pushed his pants down out of the way. he was wearing a
leather and chain G-string, the sort of assemblage that could be
purchased in just about any one of the gay boutiques in the
Village. It consisted of a black harness strap a few inches below
his waist and two around his thighs, the center of which was a
chain pouch. To my eyes, it had an absurd, lurid appearance on
such a young boy and did little to excite me. Matt's shirt was
similarly

"Wow!" Roland shouted. "That's hot with a capital 'H'! Now
we know what you're into, Matt!"

"A little bondage with your son, Elliot?" Marius giggled.
"How sweet!"

Matt smirked and reached through the opening between two
chains to extricate his half-erect penis. It was an imposing
sight, at least five inches long with a reddish helmet-shaped
head. When he was sexually mature he would be very well endowed.
Solemnly, he stepped forward, straddling his father's legs. His
testicles were also large and hung low, bulging through the gaps
in the chain. They had the fullness of a boy who was well into
puberty.

Elliot's eyes were as wide as anyone else's, although his
son's genitalia was undoubtedly very familiar to him. Matt's
penis swayed before his father's face, getting stiffer. It was
already noticeably longer. Alesha was staring. He swallowed
nervously, making his tiny Adam's apple bob up and down several
times. Slowly, Elliot lifted his half-full champagne glass higher
and outward until it was right beneath Matt's slowly hardening
penis. Using both hands, the boy pushed the crimson end down,
submerging the large head. For a moment, he stayed there,
wriggling his penis back and forth in the long-stemmed crystal
glass, bathing his sex in champagne. Perhaps the cold champagne
kept his penis from attaining full erection.

"Okay," Julian said. He sounded excited. "Your choice,
Elliot, drink or lick?"

"This doesn't leave this room," Elliot demanded.

He licked his lips instinctively, although it was unclear
which option he was savoring in his mind.

"It isn't Dad's choice," Matt exclaimed. "It's mine."

We watched in absolute silence as Matt waited patiently for
the flow to begin. Alesha shifted closer to me if that was
possible. I hugged him gently while we witnessed was almost a
liturgical ritual. Suddenly, the level in the champagne glass
began to rise. It darkened slightly, beginning at the bottom.
Matt grasped his penis tightly to stem the flow of urine and
backed away.

"Don't drink, Dad! I'll be right back," he laughed. "I have
to get rid of the rest of it."

"Matt peed in it, because there's more in the glass now,"
Alesha observed in a whispered voice. "Is he really going to
drink it?"

Matt ran back into the room, the chain clinking, still
closing his zipper. He flounced back onto the couch next to his
father, leaned over and sniffed at the glass.

"I can't smell it, Dad. It looks the same. I bet it even
tastes the same," he said gleefully.

"Disgusting waste of good champagne," Elliot growled. "Just
wait until I get you in bed, son. You'll be sorry."

Matt raised his eyebrows, and answered with a peal of
laughter.

"Go on Dad, drink it!" he said insistently. "It's no
different to me drinking your jizz."

"The hell it is!"

Again all of us laughed. Even Alesha.

"He's got you by the balls, Elliot. It's only fair. Just
think of it as Chateau Cockette du Garcon, Vintage 2001," I
chuckled.

"What the hell!"

Elliot lifted the glass, closing his eyes. It was nearly the
same color as Dom Perignon, a little darker, more like the color
of some of the cheap Californian champagnes, and probably with an
equivalent taste. Certainly, it could be no worse than some of
the champagne that was served at receptions and fund-raising
balls. Nevertheless, Elliot made a wry face after he swallowed.
He glanced around his audience. Deliberately, he smacked his
lips, before replacing the glass on the table.

"That's worth every bit of nine points," Julian laughed. "I
just wish I had a camera."

"Okay, let's roll," Roland shouted.

The boys took turns, calling out the totals of the two dice
until winners and losers had been decided. It was Alesha's turn
to ask a question of Marius.

"What should I ask him,... I mean her?" Alesha whispered
urgently.

"I don't know," I whispered back.

"Um, okay,... I think I have one," Alesha muttered.
"Okay,... So, ah, when you dress like a girl, do you still have
sex like a boy?"

"Is that a question for me or Ramona?" Marius giggled.

Alesha glanced at me self-consciously. He shrugged.

"Um, for you I suppose, Maria."

"How sweet? So you want to know what sort of things I do
with Ramona?"

Alesha shrugged again. "Ah, um,... well,... yes, I guess."

"He's so delightful!" Marius simpered. "And he's curious as
well. I'm so happy he's interested in the other options." He
regarded me with amusement. "Of course, I might say 'dare
instead'. Then what would you do, my angel?"

"I guess I'd have to think of a dare," Alesha answered
awkwardly.

Marius laughed. He scratched his neck. "Don't bother,... You
have to promise not to laugh,...."

"Okay. I promise," Alesha replied without hesitation.

"Well, first it depends on the boy. Some boys like to wear
girls' clothes, but they have sex just as if they were boys. And
there are others who are older and who've had the operation done,
so they can't."

"Huh?"

"That's surgery to make a boy look like a girl," I
explained.

Fortunately, Alesha nodded that he understood. I did not
have to explain the mechanics that changed the male anatomy to
something approaching female.

"Ah, well, um,... what about you? And Ramona," Alesha
blurted out.

"I was coming to that," Marius answered. "What do you want
to know?"

Alesha reddened further. "Um, well,... like do you go to bed
naked?" He asked the most harmless question he could think of.

"Ramona and I always wear nighties. Ramona has a silk one
with little red roses on it, and mine is the same only bigger."

"Oh!" Alesha's feet shuffled nervously underneath him.

Marius glanced at me for approval. I nodded warily. If
Alesha had questions that he needed answers for, this was
probably the best for it to happen.

"We always begin by tickling each other," Marius continued.
"Sometimes we use our magic wands."

"What's that?"

"They're long feathers, Lesha," Ramon explained. "We take
turns to do it."

"Then I kiss Ramona on her body," Marius added. "Sometimes I
lick everywhere as well. We take turns doing that as well."

His soft silky voice was mesmerizing, reassuring, and for
Alesha, arousing. At first, he pressed his legs together. A few
moments later, he crossed his legs.

"It's different for us compared to most boys," Marius
continued. "Foreplay is very important."

"What's that?"

Roland laughed. "Foreplay is when a man plays with what's in
front to get you in the mood for what comes later on."

"Rollie!" Julian said loudly.

"Well, it's true," Marius admitted with a giggle. "Of
course, for Ramona and me it's usually less about what's in front
than what's behind."

"Do you?... Um,... You know,... Do it to him?"

"Yes, Alesha sometimes I do his pussy, don't I Ramona? But
it's not as often as most men do that to a boy. Mostly, what we
do is about mutual pleasuring, and doing that, well, it means
that one of us has to be the man, doesn't it? We have another way
of having fun, don't we Ramona?"

Ramon giggled and Alesha glanced sideways, barely meeting
my eyes before he looked away again. He had a lot on his mind.
Some of his questions had been answered, but each answer had
created the desire to learn even more. It was a never-ending
cycle for a curious boy who was beginning to experience the first
pangs of sexual desire.

The boys rolled the dice again. This time it was Marius and
Julian who had to play. Marius smirked.

"What will you do when Roland gets too old?" he asked.

Julian laughed. "That's hardly a fair question."

"The truth and nothing but the truth," Elliot chuckled.

"Hm,...."

Julian pondered the impasse that all boy lovers eventually
had to face. It was a dead-end, a quagmire for which there were
only two solutions. Knowing Julian as I did, a truthful answer
would lead to injured feelings.

"Dare," Julian replied fractiously.

"I thought you might," Marius smirked. "I dare you to take
Roland's pants off and then measure his cock, both hard and
soft."

We laughed.

"And what am I supposed to measure it with?"

"Ramona, be a sweetie and get a ruler from the studio."

Ramona darted off and returned quickly with an architect's
scale ruler. He handed it to Julian and then jumped back onto the
couch beside Marius. Julian had spent the time by unfastening the
lacing on either side of Roland's hips. It was a relatively
simple matter to slide the boy's chaps down halfway to his knees.

Julian held the ruler close to Roland's surprisingly still-
not-erect penis, pressing the end into his smooth pale pubis. It
was not the first time that I had seen Roland's penis. The last
time had been several months ago when Julian had playfully
dragged his jeans down and paddled his behind for being rude.
Now, judging from the size of his scrotum, Roland was far enough
into puberty that he had started having wet ejaculations. That it
was completely hairless, seemed to emphasize its size and shape.

"It says thirty-two, whatever that means? Is it in
centimeters?" Julian asked.

Marius laughed. "You using an architect's scale. It's thirty
two feet."

"I have a thirty-two-foot-long cock," Roland chortled. "And
it isn't even hard yet."

"Maybe in your dreams, lover boy," Julian rebuked playfully.
"This little thing is a long way from being limp and we both know
it's four inches or thereabouts."

"That's right," Marius said. "It's an eighth of an inch to a
foot ruler, so thirty-two feet would be exactly four inches. Now
you have to get the other measurement."

Julian scowled. It was all in good fun, but I was very glad
that it wasn't me. A quick glance to the side revealed that
Alesha was fascinated. His eyes were glued to Roland's penis,
watching as it slowly stiffened, no doubt making the obvious
comparison between the older circumcised boy and himself.

"Well, get it stiff, Julian," Elliot taunted. "We don't have
all night."

Julian smirked. His right hand slipped around the slim,
half-hard shaft. His fingers squeezed gently, pressing the
helmet-headed glans through the end of his fist until it
darkened. He relaxed the pressure and slowly began to stroke.
Immediately, Roland's pelvis began to lift up, straining, then
jerking, thrusting with an innate and immediate need.

"There's my big boy," Julian teased.

He placed the ruler down again, aligning it so that like
Roland's penis, it was sticking out perpendicular to his body.

"Almost forty. So if I divide by eight, then it's five
inches," he thought aloud.

"Five inches?" Matt teased. "What a whopper! I'm a year
younger and mine's already that big."

"It's big enough to pack your fudge," Roland retorted.

"In your dreams, bronco-babe!"

"Five inches for a thirteen year old is more than enough to
be proud of," I interjected.

"Now, now boys," Marius added. "No fighting. I'd say that
was eight points, because it wasn't fully limp to start out
with."

The boys rolled the dice again. This time it was Alesha's
turn to ask a question of Elliot. Again, Alesha looked to me for
help. I shrugged, completely at a loss. After a while, he smiled.

"What do you like most about Matt, and what do you like the
least about him?" he asked cautiously.

Elliot smiled. "You have a bright boy there it seems,
Sheldon."

I smiled, showing my approval by fondling Alesha's shoulder.

"Hm, what do I like most? That's easy, his ass," Elliot
joked.

"Seriously," Alesha demanded.

"Okay, I'll be serious. What do I like most about Matt? It's
a hard question to answer. There are lots of things. He's fun to
be with for starters. Of course, I love him very much, and I'm
sure he loves me back. I like that a lot. He's very good-looking
and he has a fabulous body, but that's not all that important to
me. It wouldn't change anything if he wasn't cute. I really enjoy
talking with him. He's better company than anyone else I know,
especially my wife." Elliot hesitated. He pursed his lips,
considering. "Mostly, I think it's knowing how much he loves me."

Alesha nodded thoughtfully. We had never talked about love
before. Perhaps we never would.

"Now the other part," he reminded Elliot.

"Okay. What do I like the least? Getting browned when I
don't have a way to clean it off!" he guffawed.

"Huh?"

"It's an inside joke, you might say," I answered. "I'll tell
you later, Alesha."

"You have to be serious," Alesha commanded.

Elliot nodded, yielding. "I should have taken the dare."

"No you shouldn't have," Alesha giggled. "I was going to ask
you to take all his clothes off. Anyway, it's too late. You have
to tell the truth now."

"Least of all?" Elliot half-closed his eyes. "Sometimes he
can be cruel. I don't think he means to be. He just doesn't
appreciate that what he says can hurt."

Alesha smiled sardonically. The boys wasted no time in
rolling the dice again. Going by their demeanor I expected that
we would begin to see more dares and less truth being shared.

"Okay, Alesha, this is your question," Roland began slyly.
"When are you going to lose your cherry?"

"Huh?"

"When's he going to fuck you?" Roland chortled.

Alesha shrugged. "I guess when he wants to," he answered
awkwardly. "Maybe he doesn't want to."

"That'll be the day. Mr. Beaufort's a boy lover, or he
wouldn't be here," Roland laughed "And we all know you're as gay
as they come, so we can pretty much figure out what's going to
happen to your butt, can't we?"

Alesha shrugged. "I suppose he'll get around to it
eventually."

"Boring question!" Matt interrupted. "Let's roll again."

For the next roll, Alesha appeared to have lost interest in
the game. He sat quietly beside me while Roland passed on
answering a question about how often he masturbated by himself.
Clearly, he was more interested in winning points. Elliot
immediately challenged him to get an erection in ten seconds,
without Julian's help. After ten seconds, Roland was supporting
something of an erection, but he was too soft to get more than
six points. Julian was all but rolling on the floor with
amusement.

"And that, lover boy, is why you're the bottom and I'm the
top," he jeered.

"You're dead, Elliot," Roland grumbled. "Just you wait."

On the next turn, Ramon had to ask Alesha a question. He
thought for a while, inclining his head to whisper to Marius, who
smiled and nodded.

"Would you liked to get fucked tonight, Lesha?" Ramon asked
quietly.

Alesha trembled. I felt his body become tense. In my mind,
it was a fair question for any gay boy, but not Alesha. he simply
wasn't ready, not for that invasive act. I wondered what he would
say. I glanced at Alesha, meeting his eyes for an instant before
he quickly looked away. His neck was quickly getting red. His
eyes remained averted, staring intensely at the floor. His lips
were tightly compressed as if holding back the answer he wanted
to give. His head shook slightly, making a sudden abrupt jerk
that was almost scared.

"You want a dare then, Lesha?" Ramon teased.

Alesha nodded slightly. He was visibly very nervous,
worrying what came next.

"Okay. Here's what you have to do," Ramon smirked. "I dare
you to put on one of my dresses. I get to pick which one."

Awkwardly, Alesha glanced at me again. I saw relief in his
still blushing face. The other boys were so frank about things
that he still found intensely private. They made jokes about
having sex while he remained in the no-man's-land between
innocence and lust. I tried hard to be ambivalent, yet I still
smiled. It was impossible not to be amused by what was happening
despite his obvious distress. He glowered at me for a moment. I
nodded reassuringly. Compared to what the other boys had done so
far to win their dares, being dared to wear a dress by a boy who
was already wearing one himself was not all that bad. It could
have been much worse, but I still felt sorry for him.

Silently, Alesha stood and followed Ramon out of the room,
heading for the stairs and the clothes closets upstairs. The rest
of us were glad to take a break in the game; and in ones and twos
we ambled across to the dining table, replenished our champagne,
or took the opportunity to visit the bathroom. Julian and Roland
had a different idea of how to spend the time. I had to smile
when Roland scrambled onto Julian's laps and proceeded to bombard
him with wet kisses. The last thing I heard was Julian's urgent
whisper that he would 'have to wait until later in the night to
do that'. I wondered if Alesha would ever be as aggressive as
that.

I filled a plate with smoked salmon and a few choice pieces
of charcuterie of duck, having previously eaten my fill of caviar
and foie gras. It was only when I was halfway through the plate
and feeling somewhat full that Marius carried in a silver tray of
dessert delicacies. My mouth watered. Matt and Elliot made a
beeline, and engaged in a heated discussion of which would taste
the best. There were, among the rich confectionery, a
considerable number of small cakes and tarts that any patisserie
in France would be pleased to have created; slices of chocolate
euphoria and raspberry Bavarian cake, cream puff swans, fresh
fruit tarts, chocolate mousse and truffles, lemon bars, and petit
four. In combination, it was all very tempting. Even Roland and
Julian stopped what they were doing and came across to join us.

"This time you've truly outdone yourself, Marius," Julian
observed boisterously. "Hasn't he, Sheldon?"

"Indeed he has," I remarked as I sampled a rum and raisin
truffle. "This one is excellent. I think I'll eat them all."

"I think you'll have to arm wrestle Rollie if you want to
get all of them, but if I were you I'd be very careful," Julian
laughed. "I've always said that the fastest way into a boy's
bottom is what you put in his mouth."

I laughed. "Then he'll can eat them all in that case."

Roland grinned. "No way you're dicking my ass, Mr. Beaufort!
That's off limits to everyone but Julian. Still, you'd better
save a few of them for Alesha. Assuming that you're planning to
put something in his bottom later on."

I growled and playfully swatted at his bare rear. Roland
leaped away, laughing. I managed to eat a few more, including a
delicious sugar-coated pastry filled with raspberries and
chocolate mousse before Marius herded us back to the living room.
Ramon was standing in the doorway, giggling.

"Is everybody ready?" he began. Without waiting for an
answer, he proclaimed in his high-pitched voice. "Let the show
begin."

And then the show began. Alesha, blushing brightly, appeared
from behind Ramon. In a parody of a fashion model, he strolled
across the room, displaying his dress. It was delightful, yet
understated; a turquoise-blue watercolor-print chiffon dress with
a ruffled hem and short loose sleeves. The material, like Ramon's
dress, was almost see-through, revealing his slender body though
a hazy fog, yet it was clear enough to show floral-patterned
panties underneath. The print was of long-stemmed green and blue
flowers, creating an effect that was simply stunning.

Ramon pretended to hold a microphone as he spoke. "Alice is
wearing a delightful dress. One of our most popular colors, in
Caribbean blue to match her eyes. This is an ideal dress for
spring-time garden parties."

We applauded. Alesha turned with a flourish, shedding his
embarrassment while avoiding my eyes as his dress swirled around
him.

"Now that's what I call pretty," Marius said admiringly.

I could hear the awe. It was no different to mine although I
kept my opinion to myself. In only the few minutes that it had
taken to change Alesha's clothes, he had been completely
transformed. My mouth was dry. I wasn't sure of how I felt about
Alesha as a girl. I stared, trying to determine my feelings. The
excitement in the room was palpable. Alesha's sexuality was
overt, reaching out to strike a chord within every man and boy.
Unlike Ramon, whose attire was overstated, Alesha wore a dress
that emphasized his natural beauty.

"Hey, Dad, I could take him to a school dance and no one
would know he was a guy," Matt taunted gleefully.

"It's cool, Alesha," Roland added. "If I was into girls, I'd
sure be into you."

Alesha scowled, and made a crude European gesture with his
crooked arm, but it was all in good humor.

"You're absolutely beautiful, Alesha," I finally said.

"Now you're making fun of me," Alesha complained.

He glared at me petulantly, suddenly very aware of himself,
of what he had done, and how well he had done it. His eyes
flickered guiltily, his true feelings betrayed by a penis that
was rigid with excitement. The panties did little to hide it.

"No, I'm not," I replied. "Maria?"

"Oh, but he's so right. Alesha, Darling, you're divine,"
Marius exclaimed. "I know you're just a little bit embarrassed
but it would please me tremendously if you walked around some
more."

Alesha made one more pass around the room before he flounced
into the seat beside me. I smiled and gently patted his knee.

"You're a good sport, Alesha. Matt or Roland wouldn't have
done that," I whispered in his ear. "I'm very proud of you."

"That took a lot of guts so I'm giving Lesha ten points,"
Ramon announced triumphantly.

Alesha shrugged, still uncertain, yet also feeling as if it
might have been worth the shame of dressing as a girl. However,
when it was his turn to roll the dice, he did not move.
Nervously, he chewed on his bottom lip.

"Come on, Alesha," Roland cajoled. "We can't play without
you and Sheldon."

Alesha breathed out. I squeezed his slender thigh beneath
the dress, resisting the urge to place my hand directly on his
bare skin. Not that it mattered for the dress was so thin that my
hand was all but on him. His eyes shifted nervously. He glanced
around, realizing that in that room he was as accepted as he
would ever be. He was among friends, men and boys who would stand
beside him no matter what. Slowly, he smiled, and leaned to pick
up the dice to take his turn. He rolled two sixes. On the losing
side, both Matt and Elliot and Julian and Roland had rolled
double fours. Already we had decided what to do in the event of
two teams sharing the same score. I started to laugh.

"What's so funny?" Alesha asked.

"What I've got in mind for them, Sweetie," I replied.
"Listen."

Alesha giggled as I explained my idea. Because doubles had a
much lower probability than other combinations, it was both
reasonable and appropriate for the dares for both man and boy to
be more exacting. Since the losers had tied the problem was how
to get both pairs to take the dare instead of telling the truth.
It was Alesha who came up with the answer.

"Julian, would you, um,... do it with Matt if you thought
Roland wouldn't find out?" Alesha asked slyly.

"You mean fuck him?" Roland asked petulantly. He glared at
Julian, awaiting his answer.

Marius snickered. "And you have to tell the truth and
nothing but the truth!"

"Dare," Julian said softly.

I shrugged. I had not suggested the truth question to
Alesha, just the nature of the dare.

Alesha giggled. He was halfway there. He thought for a
moment, carefully watching Matt and Elliot who were waiting
across the room.

"And now,..." Alesha began teasingly. "The next question is
for Elliot."

"And you're going to ask if I want to fuck Roland if Matt
didn't find out?" Elliot jeered.

Alesha shook his head. "That's too easy. If Julian and Matt
were doing it, would you want to be there. I mean not just watch
but,... well, like help them do it?"

Elliot was stupefied. For a few seconds, there was silence.
Matt glared at his father, silently daring him to answer. Elliot
rubbed his thumb against his fingers, making a fist until his
knuckles turned pale.

"Save yourself the stress of lying and do the dare with us,"
Julian laughed. "How bad can it be?"

"Okay," Elliot agreed. "What do we have to do?"

"The dare is simple. You have to undress your two boys and
leave them naked for the rest of the evening," I said blandly.

Matt and Roland quickly exchanged a look. They both smiled
slightly. By that point, everyone except Alesha expected to be
naked before very long.

"Is that all?" Julian asked with relief.

I shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, from my perspective it would
be more interesting if you did Matt, and Elliot undressed
Roland," I suggested. "But how you do it is entirely up to you."

My co-conspirator grinned.

"I'm game, I guess," Roland giggled.

"Me too," Matt added with a curious smile.

They exchanged places, standing before the other boy's
lover. Matt licked his lips, giving the impression that he was
more than happy to have another man undress him. Roland kept
glancing over his shoulder at Julian who was sitting on the
opposite couch.

"I bet they're both going to be hard as nails before all
their clothes are off," Marius tittered. "I know I will be."

"Together or one at a time?" Elliot asked Julian.

Julian smiled. "Oh, I think together. But let's make this
even more fun. The boys should watch each other."

Matt and Roland turned and faced each other. Both Julian and
Elliot moved forward until they were sitting on the edges of
their seats with the boys directly in front of them. The
situation was nothing short of erotic. Julian reached around Matt
and began to unfasten the buttons at the top of his plastic-
netted shirt. At the same time, Elliot had a difficult time
undoing the lacing on Roland's vest. However, it was not long
before both boys were bare from the waist up.

Alesha wriggled closer and I began to tickle his neck,
rubbing my fingers behind his ear, caressing his soft curly hair,
stroking his cheek with my thumb. It felt wonderful to touch him
while knowing that he was becoming sexually aroused. Constantly,
my mind returned to what Roland had said during the break in the
game. Despite my fervent denial at the time, the truth was that I
desperately wanted to have sex with Alesha. What if someone asked
me that question? Would I answer truthfully? Three of the four
boys in the room had lost their virginities, and for two of them
it had happened when they were much younger than Alesha. Not that
I wanted to have anal sex, that was far too demanding until his
body had been properly prepared and readied, but there were other
things and other ways of showing my affection. I barely watched
what was happening.

I sighed, realizing that already Roland's chaps were halfway
off and Matt was down to his obscene G-string. Alesha was
becoming increasingly unsettled. He wriggled against me
continually. Was I doing the right thing by waiting longer? When
a boy was ready, there was no reason to hold back nature's plan
for him. No reason at all, except doing what was right for him.
But what was right for other boys might be wrong for Alesha.
There was simply no way of telling. Yet, even his mother had said
that he might need a little push to get him started, hadn't she?
Damn Ioana! At my age, did my life really need this complication?

Then suddenly, the two boys were naked, both sporting
erections, Matt's penis and scrotum noticeably larger than
Roland's smoothly shaven boyhood. Alesha was staring. So was I.
Not so Marius and Ramon for whom the male reproductive organ was
probably of somewhat lesser interest than other parts.

"Well, what score do we get?" Roland asked boldly.

He took a step towards the glass-topped coffee table and
turned around, allowing Elliot to look at what had been hidden
from him. Elliot smiled.

"Both five's I think," I joked. "A point for every inch."

The boys laughed. No one had been keeping score. No one was
worrying about anything except having fun. The game had gone on
for some time and it was getting late. Finally, we came to what
was agreed to be the last round. The boys rolled the dice. I had
a six. Alesha had a one. The winners were Julian and Roland. They
both smirked at the same time. They had been waiting for a chance
to torment Alesha, but for no other reason than he was there.

"Have you ever put anything up your bottom?" Roland asked
boldly.

Alesha started, looking up quickly, before just as quickly
looking down again.

"Well? Have you?" Roland jeered. "Maybe a candle? or a
pencil? Or a finger? Or,..."

"Or a broom handle?" Matt teased.

"I'm not answering that. What's the dare?" Alesha asked
timidly.

I laughed, wondering what he'd done because the look on his
face said that he had been caught red-handed. There were any
number of things that a boy could employ to explore his body if
the desire was there. Alesha would not be the first boy to probe
his rectum, and he certainly would not be the last.

"Seeing it's the last dare you'd better make it a good one,"
Marius remarked.

Over the last fifteen minutes he and Ramon had become
increasingly bold. By then, Marius' hand was beneath Ramon's
dress, his little black lace panties pulled down around his
ankles. Alesha could not help but glance constantly in their
direction. He was visibly excited by what was happening in the
room. It was no different for Matt and Elliot. Now that Matt was
naked, Elliot was openly playing with his son's impressive
erection. It seemed that no longer were father and son worried
about anyone seeing them engaged in incest.

"Oh, we will," Julian chuckled. "Won't we, Rollie?"

Roland nodded. They put their heads together and whispered.
Roland grinned and nodded, adding a suggestion which caused
Julian to laugh. After another whispered comment or two, they
parted.

"Well? What is it?" Alesha asked petulantly.

He sounded nervous. He glanced at me uncertainly. Julian
smiled. So did Roland. Clearly they had worked out something
between them.

"It's really very simple," Julian began. "Something that
should be very easy for an excellent dancer such as yourself,
Alesha."

However, his words aside, his tone said something else.
There was hint of amusement, but more than that, I caught the
sound of lust. I hoped it was not too extreme, but given what
Alesha and I had them do, I would not have been surprised if the
dare involved Alesha taking off his clothes and doing something
naked.

"What is it?" Alesha asked awkwardly.

"Alesha, all you have to do is dance for us for three
minutes," Roland giggled.

"That's all? I don't have to get naked?"

"Of course not. There is something else, though," Julian
added slyly. "It shouldn't be too hard for a boy who looks like
you."

He paused, waiting, letting the silence grow until Alesha
became unsettled.

"Enough suspense," I finally broke in. "Just tell him what
he's got to do."

"You have to get us hard," Julian finished jovially.

"Huh?"

"You have to dance, but it can't be just any dance," Roland
explained mischievously. "You have to get all four of the men
stiff in three minutes or less."

"Stiff?" Alesha repeated apprehensively.

Roland smirked. "As in erect? You know what a boner is,
don't you Alesha? All you have to do is to get their dicks as
hard as steel."

Alesha looked at me in disbelief.

"That's a bit much, Julian," I complained. "He's never done
anything like this before and,..."

"Not really. If it was up to me I'd make him suck you,"
Elliot interjected with a laugh. "If you're lucky Sheldon, it'll
get him in the mood for some fun later on."

"Ha! I bet his ass will be sore before too long," Matt
added.

Alesha glared at him and then turned back to me. His
expression revealed his feelings better than anything he could
have said.

"It won't be that bad," I said consolingly. "Just dance for
a while, Honey. If they're not hard when you start they soon will
be."

"Yeah! And just how am I supposed to do that?"

"Trust me, Alesha," I laughed. "Just use what nature has
given you."

I turned to Marius who was busying engaged in tantalizing
Ramon's nipples with little pinches.

"Maria, that dance the boys were doing at the Club, the one
about New York City boys or some such thing. By any chance, do
you have that?"

Marius deferred to Ramon, who promptly ran across to the
built-in cupboards that housed the sound system. After a moment,
he held up a CD whose label showed the name, 'Pet Shop Boys'. It
took him a moment to load it and then find the song I had asked
for. He turned up the volume to a level that only a boy could
appreciate. The disco music reverberated through the room. Alesha
gave me one of 'are you sure' looks. I nodded and playfully
pushed him to his feet.

"Get that beautiful body of yours dancing, Alesha" I
laughed.

"How will I know,... you know,... if what I'm doing works?"
he asked shyly.

Unwittingly, Alesha had given me an opportunity to save him
from embarrassment. Immediately, I put my barely formed plan into
operation. The best way to handle a dare was by another dare that
upped the ante. In this case, my dare was intended as a bluff. At
least, that was my hope when I made the suggestion.

I turned to Marius. "He has a point, you know, Maria. If
Alesha has to do this, I think he has to see the effect he's
having on us in order to know what to do."

"What a good idea," Marius giggled. He was always a good
sport. "I'm game for it. How about the rest of you?"

"You're suggesting we should take off our clothes?" Elliot
guffawed.

Beside him, Matt went into a nearly hysterical giggle.
"Yeah! That's cool! Me and Rollie are already nude. Why shouldn't
you be as well? It's only fair, Dad."

The suggestion was immediately taken up by Roland who
pestered Julian by trying to undo his belt to get him started.

"Not everything has to come off," I clarified. "We just have
to expose enough so that Alesha can see who he has to focus on."

"Agreed," Julian submitted with a smirk. "At least this way
we'll see who's the best endowed."

"Cocks out only, or more if you're so inclined," Marius
said, setting the ground rules once again.

He gave meaning to his words by promptly hiking up the dress
he wore and lifting his bright-red lace pants down so that the
frilly waist was held in lace beneath his shaven scrotum. It was
all that I could do to stop from laughing. Below his head, there
was not a single hair on his body. But for the single aspect of
being male that was still trapped between his thighs, from what I
could see, Marius' smooth pale body was as feminine as any woman
that I had seen.

I went next. It was only fair, since it was my suggestion in
the first place. I opened my zipper. Alesha gazed down, his eyes
wide. I had to undo my belt and the button on my trousers to make
an opening. Then, as Marius had done, I pulled my boxers down
beneath my groin. Casually, I glanced up again. Alesha's mouth
was half open. He blinked, swallowed, stared with rapt attention.
He had never seen a man's penis before, let alone a man's erect
penis before. Fortunately, my position concealed most of it.
Mostly, Alesha saw hair, and the fat red tip of my penis as it
peeked from within my foreskin. I had a considerable amount of
hair, a somewhat different color to the hair on my head. It was
nearly orange, and dispersed with gray. To my eyes, he did not
seem appalled. He merely looked attentively, revealing what I
presumed to be a boy's fascination with a man's sex organs if not
the burgeoning excitement that I would have preferred to see.

"Your turn, isn't it Julian?" Elliot jeered. "Let's see what
you've got to keep Roland happy."

Again, Roland laughed. Alesha did not turn to look at either
of them. Instead, he continued to stare at me. A sideways glance
past Alesha revealed that Julian's penis was about the same size
at Marius', but with a great deal of curling hair that made it
seem much more manly. Elliot was next, and he hurriedly
unfastened his zipper before Julian had a chance for retribution.
Without my glasses, it was difficult to see much other than he
was probably the biggest of the three, which given Matt's
advanced physical development, struck me as being entirely
appropriate.

"Okay, Ramona, cue it up again," Roland chortled. "You've
got three minutes until the song ends, Alesha. If I was you, I'd
start by getting naked as quickly as I could."

Everyone laughed, except Alesha. He managed a faint smile.
The volume increased by ten decibels. He moved away from the
coffee table and onto the polished oak floors, kicking off the
sandals that Ramon had provided to him. With a bashful glimpse at
me, he started to dance.


END ACT V


INTERMISSION