Date: Sat, 16 Feb 2002 20:27:51 -0500 From: Tom Cup Subject: The Innocents by Richard Dean - Part 1 Chapter 7 Gay - A/Y The Innocents by Richard Dean Copyright 2001, 2002 by the Paratwa Partnership: A Colorado Corporation. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, except in the case of reviews, without written permission from the Paratwa Partnership, Inc, 354 Plateau Drive, Florissant, CO 80816 This is a fictional story involving youth/youth or adult/youth sexual relationships. If this type of material offends you, please do not read any further. This material is intended for mature adult audiences. Names, characters, locations and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. ************************************************************************ This story is part of the Tom Cup Library and may be accessed at http://tomcup.iscool.net or at http://www.eroscities.com Also available at the Tom Cup Library: The Innocents Part 3 Chapter 3 Added 02/16 Calvin Part 3 Chapter 32 Added 02/10 Of Our Teenage Years Chapter 2 Added 02/09 David's Christmas Present - Ch. 18 Added 01/31 In Memory of Steve Chapter 6 Added 01/29 Kevin Part 3 - Donna Chapter 3 Added 01/28 Terms of Living Chapter 8 Added 01/27 Age Before Beauty Chapter 1 Added 01/26 Stephen Miller's Journal Chapter 8 Added 01/21 A Place Called Home Chapter 9 Added 12/30 Private Lessons Chapter 1 Added 12/15 Coming Soon to The Tom Cup Library of Sites: Bob Nelson's Gay Vikings! Featuring the serial: Bagboy! For a complete list of Series and Short Stories Available, Visit http://tomcup.iscool.net ********************************************************************** The Innocents By Richard Dean Part One Chapter 7 My Absence After a 2-month period of continual work our research vessel had docked at the Municipal Pier in Fortaleza the evening prior to my return for my 1-month leave. I found that a number of things could prevent me from making advance plane reservations. In the past, I had made advance reservations only to cancel out due to bad weather, which forced us to remain at sea to ride out the storms, or because we could not pull away from a job, because we were in the middle of a scientific regimen that necessitated us staying on station until the exercise was completed. Then we would return to port for fuel, water, and replenishment of food. Learning my lessons the hard way, I usually checked into a hotel, rested a day, and left the following day to return to Rio. As I was packing my valise, I thought back on my two-month absence from my lover, Toninho and friend, Paulo who remained in Rio during my absence. Until the mails started flowing with regularity, things on the home front weren't running smoothly. The letters came with frequency from both Paulo and then with little notes included from Toninho, as he was practicing English more regularly since Paulo was a strict taskmaster to his pupil. As we all do when learning another language, we tend to speak and write in the first person singular: I want, you want, they want. "Pae, I go shop today. Paulo go for work. I more hard tri study. I make wash cloths. I love Pae." As simple as those little notes were, they brought floods of love and tears flowing through my heart, mind and soul. I know how difficult it can be to learn English which may be one of the toughest languages in the world to learn, because of the various ways to spell words which sound the same; i.e. dew/due/do, way/weigh, cue/queue . When the ending of words are spelled the same but pronounced differently; i.e. cough, rough, bough, through, is especially difficult. English is not a pure language. It has borrowed, stolen, and/or interpreted foreign words from most countries of the world. The root of English is Germanic in sound and diction, however its base is generally that of Latin (Old Roman). It can drive a student to the point of throwing their hands up in frustration and confusion. It is a daunting task. My little man, stayed with his assigned task. Not without some moments of futility, but as Paulo reported to me, Ton soon got his composure reined back in, and toughed it out. Every lesson seemed harder, day by day. In our home, we used three languages principally. English, Portuguese and Spanish. It was usually a mixture of all, when trying to explain a point to Toninho. Toninho especially hated it when Paulo and I would chat back and forth in English. He felt he was left out of the equation, or perhaps, he felt we may have been negatively talking about him. Because of his stubborn determination, he was going to learn English if it "killed him". I suspect, at times, he felt it was killing him. Paulo had suggested in one of his letters, that when we spoke English between each other, to try to speak in simple sentences, so that Toninho would be able more fully to comprehend. He could also add his simple comments to our conversation that way, which would prod him on with greater alacrity and interest to his studies. I wrote Paulo (and Toninho) back and told him that I agreed with him and thanked him for being so astute and once again, for being "my rock" in our friendship, without whom I would have suffered greatly. We assisted each other as living dictionaries when we couldn't remember or didn't know a particular word or phrase in whichever language we were speaking. I, naturally, wanted to speak Portuguese while in Brazil. Paulo wanted to speak English for the most part, to retain his fluency. So we were conciliatory to each other's desires. We returned our answer in the language which was first spoken to us. Paulo was also fluent in French and German. What a guy! A true linguist. His friendship has been and is more valued to me than any other I have made in my lifetime, to date. He adds the correct amount of piquant spice to my life's stew. He denies it, but I think him my mental equal. And he could easily grace the cover of GQ, while I might find space on the inside back cover of the Yellow Pages. Of the three cities of Brazil which I find most intriguing and exhilarating, Fortaleza is my first choice over Rio de Janeiro and Recife. Each of them have their own personalities and appeal. If ever I decide to retire, I could make no better choice than Fortaleza. A city of approximately 2 million people, she has a "small town" atmosphere. She presents her layout in a convenient grid pattern. The center lies above the old historical section and includes the Mercado Central (Central Market), the Catedral do Seand, major shopping streets and government buildings. East of the center are the beaches (praias) of Praia de Iracema and Praia do Ideal; then continuing eastwards, Avenida Presidente Kennedy links Praia do Diario and Praia do Meireles, which are lined with high-rise hotels and restaurants, and shops. Beyond here are Porto do Mucuripe (the port) and the Farol Velha (Old Lighthouse). Praia do Futuro begins at the lighthouse and extends 5km southwards along Avenida Dioguinho to the Clube Caca e Pesca (Hunting and Fishing Club). Fortaleza spreads her arms in a warm inviting welcome to one and all. She does not snub her nose at her visitors, guests, or residents. On the whole she cares little if you are of a different sexual orientation than the usual heterosexual. She is a city that is gay friendly and supportive. As a mother she wants only that her children be happy, well fed and accomodious to others. Her beaches, breezes, lively night life, rhythmic melodies, and regional dishes speak a welcome to the tired, the footsore with a message: Come, rest, drink, eat, dance, smile, sing, be at peace while I mind and tend you. She massages you, embraces you with the smiles and contentment of her citizenry. She accepts you. You are one with her, alive and warm in the strength of her comforting arms and ample bosum. The first time I came to Fortaleza, I had been traveling the interior of the country and unknowingly had become infected with what had later been diagnosed as Dengue Fever. Upon arrival to that fair city I checked into The Hotel of the Americas. The first day I was there, I was not feeling well, slight headache, sweating, a bit of upset stomach, but did lots of walking along the Av'da Kennedy and spent a lazy afternoon under an open-air hut (barraca=ba-HA-ca) resting and had a couple of beers, watching the bathers, playing and cavorting along the beach, with music drifting from a radio nearby. At dinnertime, I felt absolutely foul. I was so weak I could barely walk cross the beach to the Avenida. I hailed a taxi and took it back to my hotel, whereupon, I showered and went immediately to bed. For the next two days, I stayed mostly in bed, while making frequent shuffled steps to the bathroom. On the third day, I was in total fever, raging headache, swollen joints, and so weakened I could not lift myself from my bed as my bowels became so loose that I had soiled myself. I lay there in misery. By noontime, the maid knocked and when could hear no answer entered and discovered my condition, whereupon she contacted her supervisor and manager. He came into my room, and asked me in English about my condition. I replied as best as I could mutter. He called the owner of the Hotel, who came immediately from his finca (ranch) into town, rushed into my room, saw my condition, and told me he would call his doctor to come to attend me immediately. He instructed two maids, to clean me, bathe me, change the bed linens, anything they could do to ease my suffering. Those ladies were the gentlest, respectful, and thoughtful nurses one could hope to imagine. They cleaned me as if I were a baby, except they did not diaper me. One of them was with me at all times, while the other was attending to stocking up on clean linens, washing/drying my underclothes, cleaning and scouring the bathroom, and speaking soothing words of Portuguese, which at that time, I could understand little, to ease my trepidation. The doctor arrived, examined me thoroughly and professionally, and told me in English he thought it was Dengue Fever, but took a blood sample with him, and left and said he would be back twice each day to check on me. He did exactly that. His instructions to my erstwhile nurses were to bathe me, regularly, change the linens each time I awakened if I slept. He gave me painkillers for my killer headaches, shots of Vitamin K, to build up the clotting factor. I could ingest only cocoanut water for the first three days. By the end of week one, I was still abed. I was feeling somewhat better, had lost about 15 pounds, and could ingest only clear soup and toast and cocoanut water. By week two, I was ambulatory and could get to the bathroom without assistance from one of my nurses who was in constant view except when the door was closed. They alternated shifts to watch and tend for me. All the while with good humor and loving smiles and assurances that all would be well. I was a well-pampered "Yanqui fuerzo bonito" (Strong, handsome Yankey) and would be well before I could say "Meeki Moouse". During my second and third weeks in that hotel room, I watched more Brazilian television than I could have imagined. I was starting to understand what the cartoon characters were saying, the newscasters were making sense to me, and the serial daytime dramas began to interest me in their plotlines. The only English that was spoken in those three and a half weeks were from the doctor, who by the 2nd and 3rd weeks was attending me once daily and only for minutes each time. The rest of the time was forced Portuguese, day and night. I found I did not have to rely so much on translating mentally in English to speak Portuguese or even to understand it. I could now start forming my thoughts in Portuguese automatically. My vocabulary was limited, but was learning more and more each day. I was a captive audience. At the end of the 3rd week, I was walking around the block for exercise, but one of my nurses was with me all of the time. Fortunately, I had almost fully recovered from my near death experience with a mosquito borne deadly plague that kills more than 20,000 yearly. To this day, no other hotel within Fortaleza will get my business. Neither of those two ladies works for the hotel any longer, but when I go to Fortaleza, I look them up and bring them both gifts of Avon Skin-So-Soft, which they love. When I went down to the front desk to pay my bill and leave generous tips for the "above and beyond the call of duty" service I had received. Not one would accept the tip. My hotel bill was for the original expense of one week, as I had intended to stay. Subsequently I sent the owner a checque for $1000.00 to give out as Christmas bonuses to those two adorable wonderful ladies, my angels. Many Brazilians may be poor, but they have dignity and CLASS---all upper! I wasn't in my room ten minutes while I was arranging my toiletries in the bathroom when a knock sounded at my door. "Yes, what is it?" I inquired. "Service de piece, Monsieur. Un paquet de la distribution special est arrive pour vous." (Room Service, Sir. A special delivery package has arrived for you.) "Merci. Un moment s'il vous plait." (Thank you. A moment please.) Curious as to what that would be, I opened the door. Toninho and Paulo sprung into the room and wrapped themselves around me. I was staggered several steps back with the force of two bodies colliding with me, while my mind came into focus that the two most important people in my life were there in front of me, encapsulating me. The combinative weight of my captors forced me to collapse onto the floor. They followed as if attached with duct tape. We were on the floor, groveling about as children at play, kissing each other, hugging, and arms wrapped akimbo to each body for some type of purchase. We were talking at once, yelling, giggling, a cacophonous sound to the ear of anyone listening, I am certain. I could only understand bits and pieces of conversation as two blended into one roar of confusion. "Stop! Stop! Stop!" I demanded. Soon enough I could only ask "What in the hell...how in the hell...how did you...when did...Okay, let me start again. And only one answer at a time please. Explain this to me Paulo." We all separated from our pile and sat on the floor with legs folded in the Lotus Position facing each other. Toninho was holding on to me with the biggest grin of conspiracy and deviltry I could ever imagine, while giggling, his eyes flashing with mirth and brightness through the watery remains of his tears. Paulo explained as I grabbed onto Toninho and held him tightly while kissing his face and hair. With my right hand I held on to Paulo's left hand. "A week and a half ago, Toninho and I were talking about what we could do to celebrate your return. Toninho suggested that now that we had Herbie, why not drive up to Fortaleza and meet you at the dock when your ship arrives at the Port. I told him I thought not, that it would be too expensive. He argued that one of the reasons we got Herbie was not only for transportation, but we could sleep in him at night or when we got tired and then keep traveling onward until we got to Fortaleza. The more we thought of this, we agreed we would do it. So we packed up Herbie with what we decided we would need on this trip. We locked up the apartment, and started driving northward. We got here two days ago, checked into this hotel, since you mentioned it would be the only place you would ever stay in Fortaleza. We talked to the Manager and convinced him that we wanted to surprise you and asked him to help us by not informing you of our arrival or let you in on the surprise. We waited and waited. Finally the Manager told us your ship was being tied up at the dock, and you would probably be here within an hour or two after the ship cleared customs and health check. In the meanwhile Toninho remembered Herbie was out in the parking lot, so I had to run out there and move him to the back to hide him. After you left the Manager at the desk, he called us here and told us to get out of the room as you were on your way up. Voila. Surprise!!!" "Yesss!" yelled Toninho and he jumped back on me, with Paulo following. Once again we resumed our pummeling, playing and crying for joy and glee. I could not have been happier nor more surprised as my dear friend and lover were both in my arms once again. It may have looked like a free-for-all tag-team wrestling match, but we didn't care. We were together...a family...still. About 10 minutes later the telephone blared its intrusive ringing. Paulo arose and said, "I'll get it. Hello. Yes...yes, we'll be there within minutes...yes, thank you." Placing the handset on the receiver, he announced to us, "Lunch is being served, gentlemen. Shall we go?" I looked from Toninho to Paulo somewhat confused. The restaurant never had called before to announce that lunch was ready. We arose from the floor and rearranged our clothing and left to go down to the restaurant. Neither of my chaps said anything to me about the strange turn of events. As we were walking through the lobby, I stopped off at the desk and with a broad smile remarked to Beto Perreira, the Manager, "You were in on this, weren't you Beto, you dog, you!" I reached across the desk to shake his hand and as he welcomed me with his hand he said, "Ricardo, how could I refuse your wonderful son? He has captured all of our hearts with his generous spirit and eagerness to welcome you back. Woes betide anyone who would refuse him -- those eyes, his love, pride, and respect for you -- we are all his captives, my friend. You are a fortunate man!" "Thank you Beto, from the bottom of my heart, I appreciate your generous words." Turning away from the desk I returned to my two escorts who were waiting somewhat impatiently I noted, to continue into the restaurant. Paulo and Toninho raced ahead of me by two steps and each took one of the French doors and opened them simultaneously and with a slight bow bade me enter. On entry into the foyer of the restaurant I saw ahead of me a large buffet spread out on two tables, lights were dimmed, candles were burning on each table. There were no customers in sight, but behind me I heard the sound of clapping, music suddenly started playing, and then I saw coming out of another door, a stream of staff, local acquaintances and friends of mine from years past, and following them were my two "angels" dressed to the nines, my nurses, my friends, my caretakers. They all merged in and around me touching me, shaking my hand, as I swept my dear lovely "angels' in my arms and hugged and kissed them. We were all crying softly, happy to be in a reunion once again. "Ladies and Gentlemen, may I have your attention please." I turned around astonished to hear the voice of my Son, Toninho. Could this be him, my Toninho? I thought. What is he up to? "I present to you with great pride and affection, the return of my Father, Senhor Ricardo Dean. I thank each and every one of you for your rapid response to my plea to assist me to welcome him home." He turned bowing in obeisance, "And to our lady `Angels' who saved my Father's life, I am deeply indebted to you. This is an informal affair, so please help yourselves to the buffet and refreshments at your leisure. Thank you!" There was applause and murmurs of complimentary comments about Toninhos gracious welcoming comments and how he took charge of the event. I could not have been more proud of him than at that moment. Naturally, I looked to Paulo and thanked him for his assistance in coaching my ward in the social graces. I noticed Paulo bend down and whisper in Toninho's ear and saw Toninho race out of the restaurant, to where I hadn't a clue. I returned my attention back to friends as they came up and welcomed me back and made small talk and friendly comments about Toninho copying his Dads' civility and ability to speak among friends and strangers alike. Again my pride swelled to outrageous dimension. Today my little man has grown up. He has shown he can have a place in this world and can handle most situations without falling apart, I thought. I am indebted to Paulo, for his care and supervision of my boy as if he were a second father, I concluded. Toninho returned, huffing and puffing as if he had been running and then had to put on the brakes to come to a screeching halt once he attained near my presence. My little grown up could also be a young boy with little thought too, at times. How special he is. Thanks be to God! I prayed. "Pae", he whispered handing me two packages, "your presents for the `Angels". "No Toninho, those are our gifts to our `Angels', I retorted. "Ladies, please accept these as tokens of our affection and respect." he said as he proffered the Avon products. Our "Angels" gushed and nearly devoured Toninho in hugs and kisses and praising my boy for his manners and thoughtfulness. The party was a great success. Beto made certain each of the staff on duty had a minimum of half an hour to enjoy the buffet, refreshments and could mingle with the guests and myself at will. When one of them had to return for their duty, another would step in and take their place. It was wonderfully democratic and so civil Looking about me from time to time, I would notice that Paulo was absent from the room. As I made my rounds, I would find him in the lobby talking with Beto and noticed that there seemed to be a comfort level between their conversations. When Beto would be busy at the counter or called to the telephone, Paulo would return to our party and look about to see if his two charges were in good stead. He would then do an about face and return to the lobby and resume his conversation with Beto. I could see that the conversation was not a seriously leveled one as they smiled and laughed. Toninho on the other hand, was being a gracious host, stopping off within small groups and asking if all were well with them, could he get them something or thanking them for coming. Bit by bit the crowd thinned out as the time neared 5 pm. We gave our farewells to all of the hangers on, while Toninho escorted the "Angels" out of the hotel, opened the taxi door for them, and paid the driver in advance as he waved his goodbyes to them as they departed. Toninhos' 15th birthday was soon coming up. He was advancing to adulthood. *********************************************************************** Send comments to: richard@boystories.zzn.com To support this and other stories by Richard Dean, visit http://www.eroscities.com or http://tompcup.iscool.net Your Support is Always Appreciated! *********************************************************************** These sites are also recommend visiting these sites: Boyztown - Gay Pictures and Stories http://www.boyztown.net Girlztown - Lesbian Pictures and Stories http://www.girlztown.net GayVikings - Stories and Pics of Men of Norse descent http://gayvikings.arecool.net Alternative Lifestyles of Youth - Youth related stories and Advice http://www.anysexuality.com _________________________________________________________________ Send and receive Hotmail on your mobile device: http://mobile.msn.com