Alan Stroup







By Alan Stroup























All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.


This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.


Author's Note: As a former sex education teacher I am not naïve to adolescent sexuality. Gay boys and girls need love stories and fantasies to make them feel whole and secure to their own feelings. Though I have several books on Amazon and Kindle, The President's Boy has always been one of my favorites. Rather than sterilize this novel to fulfill someone else's expectations I decided to offer it in its original version. To do otherwise would undermine the glorious sexuality of youth.

The President's Boy is part of a trilogy of novels about the First Boy. Crusade is the ultimate gay journey across the United States, under the direction of Chip Caver and his boyfriend, Ronin Parker. Bring the Heat is the third novel in this set that expounds on one of Chip's friends who he met on the Crusade. Enjoy, stay safe and happy.








There was nothing clandestine about the approaching motorcade of red-and-blue flashing lights snaking westward down Forest Lane toward their designated address, given to them by their own police dispatcher. A routine search warrant had been hastily granted by the presiding judge on the same day after an Internet agency reported the transferring of child pornography to this residence.

The early October air was cool, crisp, and cloudless. Trees were already turning color, dropping their leaves early and making this scenic drive like it was raining foliage. Two jet-black Buicks carried two FBI investigators in each car. These were followed by a patrol car carrying additional uniformed officers, not extremely pleased at having their donut and coffee break interrupted.

The community proved to be an upper crust residential area, favored by both political appointees and wealthy executives in this thriving District of Columbia suburb. Only after stopping in front of the gated entrance did the officers re-examine the address. This English Tudor residence blended in well with the other million dollar homes.

The initial vehicle, carrying the lead investigators in sex crimes, shut off its engine and allowed the two following cars to park in consecutive file. The driver, Lieutenant Ricid, had been on this sex task force for five years. He no doubt would have made captain by now but for the multitude of mistakes and accused abuses of suspects over the years.

This was not a common arrest in such a high profile area. It wasn't that the rich and famous were immune from licentious acts, but confronting those with money and influence often meant immediate lawyers and resistance.

"These are always uncomfortable arrests, Zach, but this one won't be pretty," the lieutenant voiced.

Tom Ricid's partner, Lieutenant Zach Stringer, had been recently assigned to this division, more of a demotion after a blown murder case on the south side. He punched in the address on the car's computer terminal and hesitated a few seconds before reading off the name to verify the owner of the property.

"This is it, Tom, Senator Addling. Shit! The man is head of the Intelligence Committee in the senate. Who fucked this one up?" Zach considered it a rhetorical question. Every assignment had its fuck-ups. There wasn't a cop around who wanted to put their ass in a sling by being involved in a false arrest.

Both investigators hesitated, until Zach offered an alternative. "Should we double check this one? Political figures are prone to pranks, and I can't afford another one-on-one with the chief. I'll be at a school crosswalk, holding hands with the kiddies."

Tom glanced in his rearview mirror and saw one of their fellow investigators hold up his arms, like, what the fuck?! Tom flipped him the bird as his answer. To the rear of the first of these nondescript vehicles, Sgt. Pitts and his partner were used to being minions on these types of arrests. They often were only there to stay out of the way, make sure the suspect didn't make a dash for it, and, to add insult to injury, they were often told to snap the handcuffs on the pervert. Neither of them gave a rat's ass who the target was of this investigation.

"The suits probably have the wrong address," Sgt. Pitts told his partner of three years. They both chuckled at the possibility.

In the lead car, Tom swiveled in his seat to face his fellow detective.

"We can assume that the senator isn't going anywhere for the time being. Let's return to the office and review the evidence. If we have to, we'll make sure the captain gives us a direct order to alert the senator that there is a warrant out for his arrest."

Zach watched his immediate supervisor vacate the vehicle and retreat to the following car to explain the situation, though the mention of a United States Senator might be left out of the conversation. To arrest a high powered figure required more balls than all of them put together.

Unlike his new partner, twenty years his senior, Zach had desired to finish law school after his graduation from Ohio State. Lacking the financial resources to pay for his student loans, he took a position that one of his fraternity brothers had offered him within the precinct. His intelligence was not always appreciated, but he was quiet, resourceful, and easy to tease with his boyish looks. Single, six feet tall, and an obsessive tennis player, Zach had kept his Bieber haircut to go with sparkling blue eyes, and rakish good looks. His one drawback from his crude peers on the force--he was secretly gay.

"Everyone is in agreement," Tom said upon reentering the car.

"And our men in blue?" Zach asked. "The grunts follow us without knowing the details. They're just happy not to be patrolling the projects for a few minutes."

"They're just holding their breath waiting for the next donut shop," Tom replied.

Back at the station the two detectives didn't report in on the results of their assignment. Instead they bee-lined it to a particular secretary's desk, a lady who knew just about everything that went on under the radar.

Mrs. Gimelstein had worked at this precinct for almost forty years and was a cornerstone of ethics and decency, two trademarks lacking in most police work. While these professionals waited for her attention, this no nonsense woman made them wait until she was ready. Finally she let her glasses droop to the bridge of her nose and glanced up.

"What can I do for you two whippers?"

"Yes, ma'am," Tom spoke first. "We have a case we need your clarity on. Here is the case number."

Mrs. Ethel Gimelstein examined the numbers and programmed them into her desk computer. She dialed a number in Cupertino, California, in order to speak to a clerk named Rodney, who she was quite familiar with.

"Rodney, Ethel here. We have a question on OCG-52415. Do we have a sender?"

There were moments of silence from this tech site, Cypertronics, which specialized in security and Internet overseeing. They were one of many firms that played in a gray area of trading information and rubbing shoulders with the fearsome big boys of international espionage. They often did things because they could, then relied on the fact that they gave serious criminal networking to the feds. This firm alone had one of the largest porn collections in the world, and who would dare challenge a group of hackers who were paid to uncover these distributors of child porn to begin with? A sluggish Washington law-enforcement bureaucracy was more than willing to appease the libido of computer hackers in order to pretend that there was a crackdown on child pornographers.

"Ethel, it's been deleted with no explanation."

Like a pedantic grandmother Ethel was in no mood to be humored. "Rodney, dear, you don't want to get in the habit of playing games. You are the ones who gave us the tip. Certainly you had evidence of some type. We don't type out arrests warrants without sufficient proof."

This young computer geek stuttered for a response. "All I can say, between you and me, a higher up has marked this as confidential. Above my pay grade, if you get my drift."

Lt. Ricid had listened closely to this conversation over an open speaker. There was a sense of relief that he hadn't gone through with this arrest minutes before. His career would have been short lived. He leaned forward, pressed his hands on the woman's desk and bore his eyes into Ethel. A brave move indeed.

"Rodney, or whomever this is, I'm Lt. Ricid, chief investigator on this wild goose chase you've sent us. The people involved in your private enterprise better have answers and damn quick. Let me speak to your supervisor!"

Ethel sat back with her arms folded across her chest. She was used to directing, not being a subservient. In this case she felt somewhat responsible if there was mix-up.

Through three different connections, Tom was put on hold in wait for the next executive to give him the runaround. Finally, Tom interrupted. "If you don't want the FBI at your doorstep in fifteen minutes you better find someone who can answer a question!"

In seconds a voice with far more authority than a college student came forth. "Hello, who am I speaking with?"

"This is the Washington, D.C. Sex Task Force. Now who is this?"

"Paul Desmond, CEO. I understand there is confusion."

"If anyone is confused, it's your operation, not mine. I want to see the evidence as it pertains to this case or I'll have your hacking geek employees flipping hamburgers by tomorrow."

"There's no need to get belligerent. Does the address 1200 Pennsylvania Boulevard ring a bell?"

A very distinct pause. "What does the White House have to do with this?"

"How can I say this? That's where the child pornography originated. Now you tell me, is that something you want to risk your ass on?"

Tom's anger went south in deep contemplation. From a few questions to a thousand. The political ramifications were endless. "Do me a favor, Paul. Send me the evidence and I'll protect the source." Tom's tone was far more amicable.

"And I have ocean front property in Nevada. Personally I'm going to cut off the balls of one of my employees who directed this prima facie evidence in your direction."

"The point being, if there's a recipient of this material, there is also a sender. Who are you protecting?"

"There are some things better left hanging in space."

"You're up to your eyeballs in this already, Mr. CEO. I'm not about ready to hang my ass on the line either, but I'm not inclined to play favorites or give someone carte blanche because they pad my wallet."

"Be ready to have a heart attack," Paul said and hung up.

Within the minute six pictures came across the wire in encrypted form. A quick revision had Tom and Zach glued to the six photos of a human male giving himself self-fellatio. The young man was so well endowed it gave new meaning to physical perfection. Only one of the photos truly identified the subject when he had looked up with sperm drooling from the edges of his mouth. Both men froze speechless. They appeared to eye each other at the same time and mouthed the first thing that came to their minds--the President's son.














Chapter Two


Given Ethel's experience and years in the sex division she'd seen just about all the gore and sex acts imaginable. She was also not naive to the complications and political turmoil that this discovery could present. Her associations in the Washington arena were quite reputable, and it was Ethel's suggestion that she should make contact with someone she knew within the Secret Service. To wash their hands of this mess would be in the best interest of all concerned. If an organization wasn't privy to the way the Secret Service operated, they were quickly briefed.

Within the hour a half-dozen agents with a hastily drawn up search warrant swarmed through the Sex Task Force administrative offices and confiscated every single bit of evidence they had concerning this particular case. Employees, including Ethel, four detectives, the station captain, police chief, and two uniformed police officers were interrogated and sworn to secrecy, as if their lives depended on it. Given the U.S. government, they did.

Growing up as a Nintendo Kid in the digital age of video games, Lt. Stringer had made a mental note of the president's eldest son's various handles, e-mail addresses, and computer databases. Jotted down were the boy's favorite Web sites, all boy related from cutegaylover to speedolads. A few of the sights were recipients of the First Boy's pictures—none of them quite revealing full facial features.

Zach had promised the Secret Service to keep any and all information confidential, but certainly not to pretend it didn't exist. The transferal of illicit data in cyberspace was hazy and an ill-defined business with paradoxical dangers for everyone concerned, but it was also public information for hackers, signal carriers, board owners, cops, prosecutors, even a random passersby. Zach was well aware that well-meaning attempts to avert trouble or punish wrongdoing brought more trouble than would simple ignorance, indifference, or impropriety. He didn't give the Secret Service a lot of credit for knowing how to handle a fifteen-year old kid with a propensity to showing off his elongated penis to those whomever wanted to download his sexual acts.

Wenzel "Looper" McElroy was the youngest Secret Service agent at the White House. At 28 years of age his deployment was more due to his father's patronage through the Clinton to Obama presidential years than any heroics acts. And being the youngest and way too handsome for any other duty, this according to his supervisors, his sole task was to protect the president's kids while they were at school. Everyone called Wenzel, Looper, a name that he had been stuck with since junior high. Few people knew why unless you'd actually seen the man in the shower.

At the private school where the Carver children were schooled, Looper was well-liked by both teachers and students. This was one reason he was very popular because of his easy demeanor, gorgeous smile and non-threatening disposition, even though everyone knew he was packing a few heavy weapons. The job was serious and no one had any desire to have any of these children taken hostage. Wenzel's fellow agents often called him Nanny. A few said this out of jealousy and envy; others because the man's role far exceeded that of mere protection for the president's precious sons and two daughters.

The First Lady had no qualms in spoiling this eligible bachelor and one adored by her children. She often invited him for dinner and family movies because their father rarely had the time. Both her fifteen-year old, Chip, and his younger brother, Philly, thirteen, idolized this agent to the point they often went to him for advice and solace rather than their own father.

Philly had taken over his brother's designated spot during the movies, which meant practically sitting on Wenzel's lap. Since Chip had turned fifteen, he wasn't so openly affectionate as in his prepubescent years, saving these moments for behind closed doors. He allowed his squirt brother to hang all over his favorite man, feeling very confident that he was Looper's favorite boy and he didn't have to prove this point on a constant basis.

The boys' mother was both appreciative and keen to the agent's attention to her sons. To question any of this fondness would jeopardize her own relationship with both Chip and Philly. As long as the boys were happy, getting good grades and behaving, she would condone this relationship as healthy.

Wenzel knew deep inside that he felt more like a true nanny than an agent in protection of America's number one family. But he also would be the first to tell anyone that he'd lay down his life in a second to protect any of these children. His true emotions and love were kept at a distance until he was alone with the boys. Between Chip and Philly there was a tacit agreement, they would share this man without a sibling rivalry that would likely bring a stop to this protector in their lives.

The boys weren't stupid by any means, each secretly confiding their experiences and mutually abiding by a set standards of rules and agreed upon lies if an accidental discovery happened. As much as Chip wanted to dominate and be the sole recipient of this male bonding, there was no way that he could have hidden his private rendezvous with Wenzel without his brother becoming suspicious.

On a thunderous night of tumultuous lightning and bellowing skyward collisions, Philly decided that a safe haven would be in his brother's bed, only to discover another large human being naked under the covers. In one desperate threat, Chip grabbed his brother's pajama top and gave an ultimatum, if not a compromise.

"I will teach you everything, but we will be forever one mind, one body, and brothers forever. We can't ever use this against each other in anger. Do you understand?"

"But we are brothers forever, Chip. Okay, I promise."

Philly whipped off his pajamas and learned in one short hour almost everything there was to learn about sex. For the next three days he spoke in awe of this amazing new facet of his young life, hardly aware as of yet that his father's genetics had much to offer the two boys as they matured.

Now, a year later, Wenzel entered Chip's bedroom under orders by his supervisor on a very serious matter that had the highest priority. The agency decided that their youngest agent was the perfect candidate to assure that there wouldn't be any more repeat incidences that could embarrass the president immensely.

Having just arrived home from a school day, the agent politely asked Philly if he would excuse them for a few minutes. Philly smiled and winked, figuring that their buddy wanted some private time with his brother. Wenzel didn't have the patience to explain.

Inside the teen's bedroom on the second floor of the White House, Chip placed his school books on his desk, whirled around and went right for the agent's zipper.

"Time out, Luke Skywalker! Keep your saber in your pants for a second. I have something more pressing to discuss."

At five-ten, Chip was six inches shorter than his father, but his growth spurt had just begun. The boy rarely took anything serious and let out a frown.

"Okay, I confess. It was me who stole the leftover cherry jubilee from the kitchen. Not like the Prime Minister needed any more calories. Gee, he had, like, three pieces. With the exception of my father I'm getting the impression that all these head-of-states are obese."

Wenzel wanted to laugh but held a straight face. "Thanks for the confession, but that's not it. It's far more complicated."

"Great! It's not like Philly didn't play a prank on me first. What's a little toothpaste up his nose while he's sleeping? You should have seen him start sneezing. I had no idea."

Chip started to bust up, while his mentor could only shake his head. Finally, Wenzel took the boy by the shoulders and sat him down on the bed.

"Look, kiddo, it's about the porn you've been sending."

The teen's face went ashen, then he whirled upright to straighten his books on his desk. "Fuck! Who found out?"

"Chip, what have I said about the language?"

"You said to restrict its usage. One word isn't going to cause an international crisis. Puton swears constantly."

"God help us, you're starting to talk like your father. Don't get your footie pajamas in a bundle, this isn't going to go beyond this room."

Chip chuckled. He adored the way Looper made humorous metaphors at his expense, just like his peers at school. As any adolescent who has assumed power over an adult he has smut on, Chip didn't care about any reprimand.

"And who the fuck else? The FBI? CIA? Shit, if you know about it, you had to learn it from someone else."

Agent Looper knew he lived precariously with his indulgence. He had several options: quit, allow a teenager to ride rough shod over him, or be the type of mentor that the boy needed. Wenzel grabbed the First Boy to flip him over his knees. A few spanks hadn't been rendered for the past year. The agent had often been the disciplinarian in substitution to having the boy's parents notified of wrongdoing. Chip had accepted this as a worthy substitute.

To a teenager the smacks were more an insult to character than painful. Chip stood up with a smile. It was defiance with acceptance. In humor he unbuckled his pants and pulled down his underwear.

"Might as well do it right, dude. Either you're getting weak or my ass has grown callouses."

The challenge was not one that Wenzel was in the mood for. "I'm not a dude, Chippy."

Wenzel wasted no time in swinging the lightweight over his lap again and really laying in to a bare ass until he had the boy in tears. It was worth the possibility of the teenager's rejection. Wenzel straightened Chip upright in front of him, almost ashamed because the boy had the most defeated expression on his face.

"You're incorrigible!"

"That hurt. You and I are going to tangle someday," Chip said and began to back away. His tears had turned to a smile. He turned his ass cheeks toward Looper and got the kiss on his ass that made it all better.

It got Wenzel smiling again. "Look, everyone wants this to go away. Who'd you send the pictures to and what were you doing?"

"Man, they don't tell you much, do they? You'll have to torture me to get the truth."

The teen shoved his adult friend back on the bed and laid prone over him. "I was giving myself head. They're just jealous because they can't do it. Senator Addling got his rocks off. Let the old codger have his fun."

Chip slid down and offered his own pleasurable reward to this man he loved. It was multi-tasking for one Secret Service agent. His mind spun with the mention of the U.S. Senator receiving child porn, while he enjoyed being pleasured by an eager teenager. Wenzel stayed speechless until the boy swallowed him whole. In the final throes of orgasm he rested back in total surrender. They kissed for several minutes and it was obvious both had been rewarded for what they wanted.

Looper took his favorite boy in his arms. "Chipper, I want you to take this seriously. Sex has a way of creating political chaos, destroying careers, and promoting one-upmanship among adversaries. I don't know what the relationship is between you and the senator, but the Internet can't be part of the deal."

"Screw it! See, I'm doing better already. I could have said fuck! When I grow up I'm going to make sure every person has a right to privacy. That includes putting our dicks on the Internet."

"It's not your dick in question here. You're fifteen, and many men like fifteen-year olds. Present company included."

"And I appreciate it." Chip gave Looper a hug and kiss.

Wenzel was never surprised at how affectionate Chip could be. "Regardless, you're a public figure and thus you must have a higher standard because you are in the spotlight. Hold on! I know what you're going to say. I realize it's not by your own choosing, but it goes with the territory. The senator better not be getting this ass."

"You know I love you the most," Chip replied.

Those were the right words because he was engulfed a second later. Looper made sure that Chip tasted the remnants of his own cum before they both rolled off the bed. The young agent felt the uneasiness of someone so madly in love that jealousy was always lingering in the mind. He had Chip show him the video in question and wondered why the teenager felt compelled to show his sexual appetite to other men. It was a conversation best left for another time.

Before this debacle Wenzel had had to tolerate his boy's infatuation for other teens. The agent had to fight his own possessiveness, yet bit his lip when Chip managed to bring two recent boy singers to his room. His oldest sister, Chelsea, had celebrated her seventeenth birthday with the invitation of the Upstreet Boys to the White House. Chip had persuaded the lead singer to come to his room, where the boy seduced the teen idol that millions of girls would have loved to have had the same pleasure. Then there was the boy from Canada, who had taken America by storm. Girl crazy and a hottie that made every gay man in the country drool, Chip said the boy was a virgin in bed until he had his way with him. Not every kid can say he fucked the president's son.

In total contrast to the foul mouthed, obstinate teenager, Chip grabbed the man's sleeve and planted a kiss on the lips.

"You know I love you. Thanks for not chewing my ass out about the porn. My father would have shit a cow. It takes balls to be as haughtily hypocritical as he is."

"Chipper, I love you, too. Keep in mind that children around the world look up to you. That's tough for a fifteen-year old to comprehend."

"Do you think they'd be impressed knowing that I can blow myself?"

"Very funny, but you would have millions of boys highly jealous."

"How about my gay following? I can't disappoint the twinks of the world."

"God, Chip, don't come out yet! Your dad's Tea Party would crap all over themselves. They'd likely ban you from any future conventions."

"Fuck `em! You like fucking one and Senator Addling loves to give me blow jobs in his office when I wander over to the Capitol. Half of Washington is gay."

Looper shook his head at this teen's defiance. He kissed the teen's forehead.

"Life seems so simple to a teenager. You're too smart for your own good. The senator is putting his balls in a vice. Just know what you're doing is putting men's lives in your hands. Power can be contagious."

Chip cupped the man's cheeks in his hand. "I'm not an asshole. I know the power that a minor can have over an adult, especially for what we do. I respect and love you too much to ever get you in trouble. My brother understands the consequences, as well."

"Philly isn't messing with the senator, is he?"

"Nuh! He's too busy with his gaming and playing pranks on staff."

"What did your brother do now? He is the one who stole the leftover cherry jubilee from the kitchen, isn't he?"

Both males heads jerked to the bedroom door. There stood Mrs. Carver in a blue evening dress.

"Mom! You could at least knock," Chip said without delay.

"Well, sooorrry. Shouldn't you have pants on in the presence of Agent Wenzel?"

"I was going to take a shower before I was rudely interrupted. Looper said it was important. The White House kitchen has lost their cherries."

"Don't be crass. Your sister said she was sure you were in here with Looper. I was hoping to catch one or both of you guys in the nude. It would have made my day halfway exciting after speaking to that damn conservative women's auxiliary this afternoon."

Looper smiled and realized that the First Lady was a little buzzed after wine and cookies at this function. There was always an endless supply of booze at whatever function the First Family was invited to. Mrs. Carver's comment did unsettle the agent to what she knew or thought about his relationship to her son.

"We were just discussing the week at school, ma'am," Looper explained.

"You don't have to explain, my dear boy. You're one of the family and if one of my children has a question about school I couldn't think of a better person to ask. You two can spank each other's monkeys, for all I care. At least someone in this house is having sex."

Chip glanced at Looper, not sure what his mother just said. Looper said he would explain it all later.

"Mom, you're embarrassing yourself. Go have a cup of coffee."

"That's no way to talk to your mother, young man," Looper scolded to please the First Lady.

"Well she just walks in my room without knocking. She wouldn't like it if I did that to her."

Mrs. Carver pretended she was toasting a wine goblet to her son's comment. "Well you wouldn't catch anyone doing the nasty, that's for sure. I'll leave you studs to whatever you were up to. Take my children out to dinner, would ya, Looper? I'm vanquished."

"Certainly, Mrs. Carver."

When the First Lady departed, Looper said he had to go on a mission, but he'd return to take everyone out to a nice restaurant. Their sisters always found friends to entertain or stay with on a Friday night and likely would refuse the invitation.

Despite this being personal business, Looper jumped into a government vehicle for his quick ride over to the Capitol. He dialed the senator's office and was told by the man's receptionist that he was just preparing to leave for the weekend. Looper persisted and finally got the question he was after.

"What's this about? Senator Addling wants to know."

"Tell him it concerns Chip Carver."

The boy's name was enough to have the senator wait for the agent's arrival. Looper was correct in that the extra few minutes to the Capitol gave the senator time to run a profile on the agent. Wenzel expected to be talked down to, since this man was known as a control freak and a big blow heart to begin with.

Obviously the receptionist wasn't too pleased with this late meeting, as she jerked her finger back toward the senator's office without comment. Looper was no more in the office, decorated in Georgia pine with a southern tinge of country ambience, then this senior senator spoke without looking up.

"So, what's our president's babysitter doing intruding on my time?"

Looper hadn't expected that moniker, used mostly as a tease amongst his own peers. The old coot was known on the floor for his menacing banter with his clownish functionary constituents. Nonetheless the young agent didn't blink or callow. His eyes still perused the office's interior in certainty that the Confederate flag was somewhere amidst this Civil War regalia. He had practiced his opening remarks in the car, but now he found himself at a loss for words.

"Babysitter it is. I'm here as a concern for one of my babies. Given that privacy is a thing of the past, one of the boy's attempts at boylesque was discovered to have been downloaded at your address. I can assure you any search warrant has been rescinded for the time, but I'm asking for some discretion from the senator in the future. You being the senator in question."

If the senator had been shaken to the core he hid it well. Quick to temper he acted the role of surprise and innocence.

"Come now, Agent McElroy, if there were any attempts to send me pornographic pictures of Chip Carver it would be from a political adversary trying to frame me for their own agenda. The president and I have had our differences in the past, so I wouldn't put it by him to smear me."

"Actually, Senator, you have been one of the closest allies to President Carver among anyone on the Hill. He thinks highly of you and you've supported him in almost every referendum. I don't remember saying anything about pornography or it being of Chip Carver."

Those words had caught the senator without much argument and appeared to frustrate the senator.

"I only thought you were inferring the worst. Is this part of your job description to harass a U.S. senator?"

"Sir, I hoped you don't look upon this as harassment. Chip has talked favorably of his educational experiences while visiting your office. Apparently the young man gets great pleasure from visiting you. Chip is impressed with how much you know about teenagers."

The words struck a dangerous cord. "Let me warn you, Agent McElroy! The boy has confided to me some of your inappropriate behavior. Leavenworth is not a place a handsome young man like yourself would benefit from. Let me assure you."

Wenzel didn't bite. "Did I give him too much assistance on his homework? Perhaps you could give me some pointers," Looper stated with a straight face.

"I think you've over extended your welcome, Agent McElroy. You may see yourself out."

Looper didn't know how far he wished to impose but he'd gotten his message across and doubted any repercussions. "Have a grand weekend," Looper said upon his departure and didn't wait for a reply.

Heading back to the White House he was internally shaken with his bravado. Had he done this to really save the senator or Chip from possible future problems, or because he was overly possessive, if not jealous? That relic from Georgia could hardly make love to a teenager with any staying power. Chip was at the age that any cock reinforced his horniness and self-esteem.

Off-duty now, he changed to a more relaxed shirt and slacks, then dashed up the stairway to see what Chip was up to. The boy was working his Wii game to perfection when Looper strolled in. Instantly, Chip swung around with his hand holding a receipt of some type.

"Look what the senator just sent over! Four tickets for the Nationals' playoff game against Atlanta tonight. He said he was just thinking how much me and my brother like the Nationals, and we could choose two of our favorite Secret Service guys. Actually he didn't say Secret Service, but friends at school. I was the one thinking Secret Service studs. I'm just not sure who I'll pick. Have any suggestions?"

Before Looper could say anything, Chip was in his arms. It was a ploy hard to resist. "I suppose I could find time, if you chose me. How about Stan? He tolerates you."

"Yeah, Stan is a lot of fun. Freakin' too straight, though. See if he's got anything going on."

"You know the agency likes ample warning to prepare for outings like this," Looper said.

"Let's do what we've done a few times before. Philly loves to dress up."

"Chip, my boy, the agency frowns when we pull such stunts."

Chip gave off his typical annoyance. "The agency, agency, agency. They're way too paranoid for their own good. No one will recognize us."

"Why do you have to be so cute and convincing?"

"Cause you love my butt and I have a long dick?"

"Yeah, that too." Looper whipped out his cell phone and called his closest friend in the agency, Stan Wheeler, a fellow agent who often was stuck with school duty as punishment for previously being on duty when a man jumped the White House fence.

Stan jumped at this chance to go to the game. "Man, those tickets are hard to come by! This is the Nationals' year, Loop!"

"Well, we have to take the boys."

"President's orders?"

"First Boy has possession of the tickets. He holds the cards and thought of you."

There was a second of disbelief. "But he always gives me a hard time. Says I should try a boy in bed. He's not serious is he?"

Looper was glad that his buddy laughed. So far he had stayed away from suspicion that they were too close.

"Stan, teenagers test you. If you get mad he's going to find your buttons. You know Chip, as well as I do."

But Stan had another dig that brought reality home. "You can say that; the kid thinks you walk on water. Don't you ever have a social life without those boys? I think the First Lady takes advantage of you, like a permanent babysitter. She even has you going to bat for them at school. Let those boys stick up for themselves."

Looper knew what Stan meant. If it wasn't the boys, it was the girls complaining about how pedantic or difficult their teachers were. There were also the bullies, kids who couldn't possibly fathom in their little minds why the four Carver children needed bodyguards and were shown favoritism. While Looper didn't intrude on the way any teacher held a classroom, he did often approach certain kids, letting them know he knew their name and what they were up to. He did it such a way as to come across as an interested observer who had connections with the principal.

Given that this was the third time the boys had dressed up as girls, there wasn't the hysterics and tomfoolery of previous times. They loaded up in Wenzel's Honda in the parking lot beneath the White House, though they hunched down in the backseat until they were well away from the White House. They compared the bras and panties each of them had "borrowed" from their sisters' dressers. It was enough to start laughter which had Looper shaking his head.













Chapter Three


At the ballpark Looper drove around to the player parking gate, where he showed security his badge and pointed to the two youngsters in the backseat. To these security men they were well used to government officials and their dependents. Given the lack of warning or security preparedness, this was a second level urgency to stadium personnel until Looper had the gatekeeper notify their head of security that Big Wheel's Spokes were in attendance. The heightened alert sent a new state of urgency.

Stadium officers allowed the Honda into the private parking for player personnel only. Through the tunnel the boys began to run with their skirts fluttering upward and showing pink and lavender panties. Two Washington Nationals' baseball caps squished down two of their mother's wigs.

"Boys! Ah, girls, slow down!" Stan yelled, sort of excited himself at being in attendance.

Their seats were directly behind the Washington Nationals' dugout. So close to the diamond the boys waved to their favorite player, Brian Harper, and received a nod back. Though dressed in wigs, skirts, and padded bras, Chip, especially, had to remember to be ladylike at all times, so said Looper. Philly could pass as a girl far more easily than his brother, voice included, with a little less padding in the breast. Every time one of the boys put their hand to his crotch to adjust his gear Stan had to remind the youngster not to be too obvious.

The Nationals jumped out quickly to a three-zero lead, only to make it 5-1 going into the seventh inning stretch. Both boys decided they had to go to the bathroom, so they headed for the latrines. Looper grabbed Chip's sleeve as the young man began to detour toward the men's room.

"Oh, yeah, almost forgot," Chip replied and walked into the ladies' room with his brother beside him. Their cute, boy band purses swayed over their shoulders.

Into separate stalls they walked, trying their best to be nonchalant and inconspicuous. It was when Chip glanced underneath the partition that he saw his brother standing up.

"Philly, sit down," Chip said without screaming his command.

The boys finished, then exited their stalls, only to find that a rather obese, black woman was waiting for them. With both of her hands she grabbed the boys' crotches underneath the skirts.

"I don't think either of you young'uns qualify for the female sex," she said.

Other women quickly took notice.

"You think?" Chip said sarcastically.

"Someone get a cop in here," the lady ordered.

Though there were several departing women, Chip spoke up quickly. "That won't be necessary."

He reached in his purse and pulled out his identification and showed it to the lady. "We're President Carver's sons. For security reasons we dress like this. Don't get your panties in a bind."

The lady glanced at the photos and official IDs. Her frown turned to one of a beaming smile. Back and forth she compared the photos to the boys, then back again.

"Why blessed be. I see the resemblance. Give mama here a kiss and be on your way." She turned her cheek, only to meet the boy's lips with her's. Laughter prevailed. "Now I can say I've been kissed by the president's boys."

In stormed two stadium security, followed by Looper. The heavy bosomed black lady waved her hands in the air. "All clear, fellas. Don't get your dander up, fer this here is the president's children."

"Stand down, guys," Looper said and showed the officers his identification.

A quick conversation and peace was restored. It was agreed upon to leave the two boys in the restroom for a minute until the crowd dispersed. Out went the officers and Looper.

"False alarm!" one of the cops yelled, but Looper still heard a woman call him a pervert. He could only sigh.

Within the minute the two boys came strolling out with lipstick in hand, adding finishing touches to their lips. No one seemed to notice. The foursome had no more found their seats again then two teenage girls came trotting down to their location to ask for the boys' autographs.

"My mother pointed you out. You guys are so cute dressed up as girls," one of them said and held out the game's program for both of them to autograph.

The attention drew far more eyes than the two agents wanted. It was decided that before anymore suspicions arose, they would depart. One major league baseball and Harper's autograph, including a Nationals' win were well worth the effort. The game was successful, even if they had to leave early. Both Secret Service agents took their job seriously, yet they wanted the boys to respect that element of danger without imposing a fear that would make relaxation and fun secondary.

Returning to the White House safely was always a relief. Stan thanked the boys and his peer for the opportunity, then added, "See you at the range in the morning."

He departed knowing that Looper often spent his nights at the White House. There were rumors that Looper shared the same bed as Chip, but no one questioned the First Lady, and certainly not the president.

When the three of them entered Chip's bedroom the boys put their hands in Looper's. "Stay with us tonight, please?" Chip said and his brother had his usual puppy dog eyes. "Pretty please?"

Looper knew resistance was futile. "Well I'm not sleeping with two girls."

The boys stripped off their denim skirts, daisy bracelets, wigs, hoop earrings, and blouses, before leaping on the agent and stripping him bare. All three headed for the shower to discuss the humor of their outing. In bed they each achieved the desired outcome. With a boy on each side of him, Looper wondered if he wasn't the luckiest guy in the world to have two hot youngsters at his fingertips.

Philly was two weeks away from being fourteen, while Chip would be turning sixteen a few days before that. Without joysticks, a video monitor, or a computer to distract these boys, this unlikely opportunity gave both boys the time to discuss their concerns or innermost feelings. The last time the three were in bed together it was Philly who admitted that one of the Joint Chiefs had slid him a Penthouse during his meeting with the president. Why the Admiral thought he had to make friends with the youngest son was a mystery to Looper, but he had never snitched on the boys and wasn't likely to.

Chip laughed and now knew why his brother was rooting for Navy in their football games. The First Boy lay his knee over Looper's groin, snuggling to be close to this person he loved.

"That lead singer for the Upstreet boys was a lousy fuck. I practically had to write a book of instructions for him. As soon as he was inside of me, he came. Like that was all about him, he pulled up his pants and gave me this look like he was God's gift to studs."

Philly chuckled at his brother's experience and daring. He had the hots for a few girls on television, so maybe his father could invite them to the White House for his birthday. He might even get lucky, he admitted to his brother and Looper.

"Dude, I'll help you get one of them up here to your room," Chip admitted.

Looper squeezed both of them. "Guys, I don't want you treating people as sex objects. They've got to want it to."

"Boys are easier" Chip admitted, like he was trying to persuade his brother to be gay.

"Like you," Philly teased and started a pushing match over Looper's body.

"Come on, guys. Learn to respect what makes each of your peckers stand up."

"Chip could have shared Justine," Philly said, meaning the boy singer who was there for Chelsea's seventeenth birthday.

"You didn't ask, dude," Chip replied. "I did, sort of! I let you watch from the closet. Justine is a perfect bottom, and I made him moan, Canadian style. Great ass."

Looper knew his intellectual lectures fell on deaf ears. It was shocking enough to listen to the boys' secret lives, and none more apparent than the oldest boy's porn expose. He wondered if Prince Charles had anything on these boys. Supposedly the teen was sodomized frequently by his favorite uncle, Lord Montebauld. Looper cradled both boys within his arms.

"My brother and I always fought. How come you two are so lovable?"

Philly smiled over at his sibling. "Chip helps me with my homework, teaches me about sex, and brings me food from the kitchen."

Looper laughed. "That's not what I heard about that cherry jubilee."

"Chip took the heat on that because the chef blamed me. We just wanted to keep the guy confused. Every once in a while we take the blame for one another. It shares the grief."

"Ya gotta love the kid," Chip replied.

"What's it going to be like when Philly brings home the girls, and Chip is dating the boys?"

"I'm cool with it," Chip said logically. "Maybe we'll double date."

"Yeah," Philly agreed. "We're both planning on going to the big gay parade next year."

"That'll be so cool," Chip agreed. "I love it when guys eye-fuck me. Senator Addling did that, and look what he got?"

The boys laughed, though Looper saw far more the reality of political disaster for all concerned. He glanced at Philly for visual confirmation that Chip would actually tell his brother this. The two shared everything. The naiveté of two boys in discussing their sexuality was precarious at best. Looper was somewhat embarrassed that he didn't possess the same courage as Chip. Secrets take something out of you. Everything is filtered through being heterosexual. What if he did come out? No one would dare allow him to even enter the boys' bedrooms again.





















Chapter Four


By the time Looper got off the phone with Senator Addling, he felt like a felon under indictment. Someone, no doubt an officer on the police force, had gone deep throat and informed the press that Senator Addling had received pornography revealing one of the president's sons. Rumors had the boy masturbating; at least that was the decided bit of sex agreed upon. Consequently, the senator denied ever having received such trash and implied that someone in opposition to his political views was simply trying to frame him.

To quell these rumors before they became public, Looper contacted the Washington, D.C. sexual task force. They in return put Lt. Zach Stringer in charge of the case to remedy the situation, but in no terms was he to find any evidence. It was a conundrum of investigative technology.

Zach in turn immediately notified the Washington Post of the inquiry and to print nothing until the investigation was complete. This he was assured as long as they got first dibs on the facts.

Looper had expected the call from an investigator, then made sure that Chip Carver well knew how to handle himself and not to compromise his father's position as United States' President.

"No problem," Chip replied. "Got it handled." He smiled.

Wenzel wondered how he could love a kid so much, only to want to strangle the brat every few minutes.

Lt. Stringer arrived at the White House and expected some formal meeting place where he was to speak with the eldest son of the President of the United States--no doubt with legal representation. Boy was he surprised. Looper led the man to a bedroom, a teenager's room, minus the posters of big breasted women, rap or musical groups. Instead there were a few boy band photos, autographed of course, a life-size wax figure of Errol Flynn with a fencing blade in hand, a knight's armor in another corner, photos of beaches, two tennis rackets tossed on the bed, a set of golf clubs sticking halfway under his bed, an 8x10 framed photo of the agent who had just escorted this lieutenant in, and paintings of famous golf holes over the boy's bed. A massive flat-screen television was hooked to various game systems. One would have to go back to the Kennedy period to remember having other young boys' bedrooms in the White House.

Zach couldn't resist examining a golf club by the teen's desk. "An R1 driver with 12 different lofts and seven different face angles. Even in golf you're stretching the rules."

Zach picked up the photo of Looper and admired the handsome features of this Secret Service agent with a million dollar smile. "You must admire Secret Service men," Zach stated and softly placed the picture back on the nightstand.

"He's my soulmate. Have you met yours?"

The question was an odd one, but Zach had to admit he hadn't. He pretended to swing the golf club to check out its weight.

Chip grinned. "I haven't actually used it yet. I have a Russian friend who bought that for me for Christmas. So you golf?"

"I putt around," Zach admitted and returned the club in its rightful place like he'd done with the photo.

"Maybe sometime you'll let me kiss your ball to see if your putter will stand up."

It took a few seconds to realize that the teenager was being sexually provocative.

"Cute joke," Zach said without smiling.

Chip was at his desk, dressed only in a pair of Hawaiian board shorts, no top, no socks, no shoes. He was glad the visitor was examining his room. Looper cleared his throat with eyes focused on his boy. It was a message for the teen to behave himself.

"Chipper, this is your guest. Do you want me to stay?" Looper asked.

"No, I got it. If he tries anything I know where a guy's balls are."

"Be nice," Looper conveyed and closed the door.

Zach had no idea what to expect when he took this assignment, but certainly not this. There were rumors of president's children being obnoxious and haughty, but this boy was brazenly direct. Zach noticed that the teenager whipped around, stood up and extended his hand. It became quite evident that the lace to the boy's trunks were open and the flap was folded in to reveal a small patch of pubic hair at the base of a penis that seemed half-erect.

"Pleasure," Zach said and shook the boy's hand. He caught himself focused on how low the swim trunks were. It was an attempt to shock him. "I think the flap goes on the outside."

"Really? No wonder all those guys on Waikiki Beach were following me. Oh, well, I like it this way. I heard you came to see my porn. The real thing is better, don't you think?"

"Mr. Carver, why don't you lace up your trunks so we can talk."

"Come on, dude, I'm fifteen. You don't call a kid, mister. My gaydar is, like, right on. You're gay, aren't you? You can tell in the eyes, and yours are real effeminate. Great attribute, mind you. Sort of like my best friend's eyes, Looper. You just met him. The guy is hot, like you."

For a brief second Zach felt flustered. No one, let alone a mere boy, had been so intrusive with him. "I'm not here to discuss my sexual orientation, young man."

Zach went right for the jocular as he pulled out a manila envelope with several photos of a young man giving self-fellatio. "Recognize the person?"

Chip quickly scanned the photos. He laughed. "Why God doesn't allow all boys to be able to do this is something I'll have to speak with Him about. Don't recognize the kid, but I'll keep an eye out for him. Great dick. My father told me once, `Even if you're caught with your dick in the pussy, deny, deny, deny.' He doesn't have to worry about the pussy thing because I prefer the back door. See that boy with the floppy bangs there in the picture, yeah, the pretty one from Canada. Great back door. He came on my bedspread and I didn't even touch him with my hand. My bedroom smelled like sperm for three days. A real turn-on for a gay kid."

Zach held up one of the photos he had brought, matching the poster in the back with the same bedspread on the bed. "What a coincidence! A perfect likeness, don't you think? Have a twin brother?"

"Philly's only thirteen and hasn't the dick I have, yet. Can you blame me? This thing is, like, new to me. A year ago I had, say, six inches, now I measure out at nine plus. Give me credit for trying the thing out. Look, dude..."

"Lt. Stringer"

"What's your first name?"

There was a hesitation, but this boy wasn't the easiest subject. "Okay, Zach."

"No, I'm Chip, you must be Zach. Look, Zach, I'm from the me, me, me generation. You're old school. The way I look at it, your ass and mine are in the same sling if my father finds out about this. A stalemate, right? He'll confiscate my computer for a week until I grovel like a third world nation wanting food stamps. Would it help if I say I'm sorry, like, I won't do it again? Okay?"

If Zach had his way he'd give the kid a dose of reality by putting him in juvenile hall. Unfortunately the boy knew that he had a silver spoon in his pocket. As a First Boy the spoon was most likely gold. He made the mistake of trying to be too sincere by putting his hand on the teen's shoulder. The teen's shorts poked out a second later. Zach tried not to look.

"How about you give me your porn collection so I can destroy it, just to make sure the temptation is gone. I'd like to have your web cam, as well."

Chip sucked in his gut which allowed his trunks to slip from his hips down to his ankles. The erection poked straight out. "I'd rather give you the real thing. How about it?"

Zach reached down and brought the shorts up, then laced them tight around the skinny waist of a fifteen-year old. The glans of the penis still was above the waistband.

"I can't be bought." Chip chuckled. "It's free. No ties. I won't even tell Looper for a while. Let's make a deal. I play tennis and golf, and the way you held my driver I'd guess you play. If I beat you in both, you lose. If you beat me, I'll hand you what you want, no questions asked. Hell, you can have this driver, even the one between my legs. No more movie director for me."

"That's not how it works, young man. I could get a search warrant."

"Ah, man, you're no parent. My mom calls me young man when she's pissed. Come on, dude, you know that doesn't hold ground in this case. You can't break my encryption, and who's to say I have more kiddy porn, though I'm hardly a kiddy. Amuse a teenager. That's all I'm asking. Do you really think my dad will allow anyone to come in here with a search warrant? Get real, dude."

Zach had to smile at the gumption of this kid. This was not your neighborhood block kid. It would be a long shot to get that search warrant, and he could probably kiss his job goodbye. On the other hand, he was a near zero handicapper in golf, almost making the Ohio State golf team. His tennis game was adequate, but hardly professional. How good can the president's misfit be? Still amazed with the decor of this bedroom, Zach reached for a saber attached to a wall mount with a matching sword. He whipped it through the air, then pointed the tip at the boy's groin. The teen's eyes lit up and Chip backed up.

"You're not so brave now, hey? When I was fifteen that was my favorite toy, but I didn't have to shock anyone with its presence to get attention. You don't have to play a role of a gay gigolo for me. It all makes you look insecure and shallow."

"Touché!" Chip replied and was stuck for a response that hit way too close to the truth. "Since you hold my dick's future in your sword, I apologize. It was only a way to humor you. Most men would've gone ballistic, but you stayed cool. I can respect that."

Zach withdrew the sword, putting it back on the wall mount. "I fenced at Ohio State. Foil, mostly."

"Wow! Looper graduated from Ohio State, too. That's too awesome! How about my challenge? I promise to give you everything if you beat me."

This was beyond comparison when it came to investigative efforts. He stood there and examined the boy's face. The youngster wasn't as tough or as much of a delinquent as he liked to present.

"You're on," Zach admitted and saw an intelligent young man who was spoiled beyond comprehension, but had a lot of potential, if corralled.

Chip slid his penis sideways into his trunks and laced them up. "I'll have Looper make the arrangements."

The two shook hands. As Chip walked the man to the door he extended his palm.

"Have a business card? If you want, you can call me, maybe?"

"I'll wait for the invitation." Zach handed the boy his card. "Till then, this matter is closed, got it?"

Chip winked, as if he knew the score from second one. "Was it ever opened?"

Zach allowed a grin. He gripped the boy by the shoulders. "Chip Carver, I want you to respect yourself and others. Sex is often a gray area that destroys men's careers and ambitions. You're obviously comfortable in your own skin, but use your courage wisely. Remember that Daedalus warned his son Icarus not to fly too close to the sun with wax-and-feather wings. Porn is like that. It can burn your ass in a second."

"I'd rather fly into your arms," Chip responded in hopes of seeing the man blush. He got his wish.

Outside the boy's bedroom Looper was waiting for the outcome. His look from Chip to Zach had no words, but it was obvious something had happened. Chip jerked his head toward the investigator with a wink that said, `check `im out, he's hot.' Zach saw the look, laughed, and then pushed the boy into Looper's arms.

"You must either really enjoy your job or get paid a mint," Zach told Looper.

"It's the perks of the job," Chip responded before Looper could say anything. "Plus, he loves me."

"Chip! Show an ounce of discretion," Looper scolded and turned red himself. At least he got a wink from Zach Stringer.

Looper and Zach had a lot to converse about when the investigator had left the White House. Chip informed the agent of where the lieutenant had graduated after the Secret Service agent had walked the investigator to the parking lot. A friendship had developed quickly. Zach admitted to the agent that his visit was mere formality to appease the powers-to-be, and would go no higher. After a little exercise on the tennis court and links, Zach admitted the material would be in safer hands. They both recognized that this fifteen-year old was a hand full, and the White House would likely never be the same if his dad got elected for another term.

Back in the family quarters Chip rushed through the shared bathroom that he and Philly shared to get to his brother's room. "I'm in love!" he yelled.

"Who this time?" Philly asked.

"You should have been there. He grabbed my sword, and I would have told him anything if he'd asked."

"Who grabbed your sword? That guy who was just here? No way!"

"Way! Okay, maybe it wasn't the sword between my legs, but he had that at his mercy. He's soooo gorgeous, and we have a tennis and golf date. Eat your heart out, little one."

"And you dressed like that?!"

"At one point they were at my ankles. When you're around cute guys, less-on is better."

"Compared to morons who run our government," Philly said.

"Yeah, exactly. What's ya reading?"

"Mutiny on the Booty. Right up your alley."

"Hey! I represent that! My booty is Zach's; he just doesn't know it yet."

"What's Looper going to say about that?"

"I can handle two men," Chip admitted with certainty. "Let's segue to our birthdays."

"Where'd you learn that word?"

"My teacher used it. Kind of cool, huh? Anyway, Mom says we can invite anyone we want. Justine can't make it; says he'll be here for Christmas. His butt is probably still sore."

"How about the Masquez kids. The girl can really sing, and her three brothers would be a challenge for you."

"And we'll invite Looper and Zach. I don't mind being the third wheel in that romance. I can't have every boy."


Lt. Stringer was no more back in his office than his phone rang. It was Chip Carver.

"Thursday, three-o'clock at the Congressional courts. I'll leave word to let you in."

"And the golf?"

"Congressional, Saturday morning tee time at seven-thirty. What do I get when I win?"

"A shocked investigator."

"Yeah, like when you saw my penis through my trunks. I thought your eyes would shoot out."

"Mr. Carver! These lines aren't secure. Your father probably has them tapped."

"Then we'll get a Presidential pardon. Gee, Zach, don't get all paranoid. You're speaking with my dad's main consultant."

"I doubt if even your father knows how outrageous you are."

"You're right. He's too busy screwing all the celebrities he can get his hands on. I learn these things from listening to all the gossip at Mom's parties."

"Don't believe everything you hear, youngster. Your father has the most difficult job in the universe. Everyone is out to make him look bad."

"My dad has a long dick, too. I think it's helped him with his political success."

"Chip Carver, you're way too outspoken for your age."

"My mother is at my door. I'll see you Thursday."

Mrs. Carver strolled in, dressed immaculately for one of her many appointments throughout the day. She kissed her son in his nose.

"What'd you do wrong now?" Chip asked.

It was exactly what his mother would usually asked him. Her son's response took a second to absorb, and then she gave Chip the evil eye with a giggle.

"Looper brought home a note from your teacher. I understand you took Mr. Flynn here to school as part of your assignment."

"Sure, Mom, part of my book report on Errol Flynn. The kids loved it."

"That's apparently the problem. I had no idea that the creator of this wax figure made the man anatomically correct."

"Surprised me, too, Mom. I think the figure's breeches fell down."

"I'm thinking they fell on purpose. Your teacher wasn't pleased. I don't want you to flunk your assignment because of your silliness."

"Don't worry, Mom, I didn't flunk the teacher, or anything. The girls giggled, so it wasn't like anyone was traumatized."

"I didn't say your flunked the teacher."

"See, Mom, you said it, too."

"Chipper, it's not nice to play games with your mother. You know what I mean."

"Sure, Mom, don't flunk-up. I got it. It's not like the kids in school haven't seen a guy's penis before. Girls love the Internet, too."

"That's not the point."

"Trust me, Mom, Errol has quite a point. What to see?" Chip went right to the real life size model and dropped his drawers.

The first lady covered her eyes, but had her peek. She laughed. "That can't be accurate."

"It is, Mom. I read Merv Griffin's biography. I'm close, want to see?" Chip started to unlace his shorts.

"Chip Monroe Carver! It's not like I'm not married to your father. He shows that snake to too many women already. I can't have my sons as exhibitionists, too."

"What's the use in having something really cool if we can't share it? Anyway, Dad has the most important job in the whole world. Did you know there are a lot of people who just want to make him look bad. He probably doesn't really show his penis to too many women."

Mrs. Carver pinched her son's nose. "Maybe you're right. Behave yourself."

"Gee, Mom, I'm practically perfect. Just ask Looper."

"That man would lie for you, and you know it. I sometimes think you two are too close."

"I can always ask Looper if he's ever flunked anything."

"Honey, don't get crass. Looper is such an angel. Don't you dare corrupt him. By the way I heard there was a man here to see you today. What's that all about?"

"Some guy from this sex task force. That boy singer from Canada said I was the sexiest boy he's ever met. The guy was here to verify."

"Chip, don't tease your mother."

"Whatever. He's a friend of Looper's. We're playing tennis and golf this weekend. The guy's cool, though he ran his eyes down the front of my body."

The First Lady never quite knew when her son was kidding her. "So he just wanted to meet you?"

"Yeah, something like that. He was hot."

"You're worse than your father trying to get any information from."

Chip kissed his mother on the cheek. "Given our responsibilities to save the world, it is what it is, Mom. Not like I haven't offered to show you my weapon. I showed it to that sex guy."

Mrs. Carver smiled while shaking her head. Her appointments were often boring and mundane, but never her son. She pointed to an object behind her son, then, when he glanced back, she finished what her son had started. She dropped his shorts straight to his ankles before she walked out. Her quick view verified, son like father. Chip still got in the last word.

"Are you from that task force, too?"


















Chapter Five


On a cool, brisk, fall day, Chip arrived at the tennis club with Looper and Lt. Stringer beside him. It was Chip's and Philly's usual lesson day, a routine the boys had been at for three years. It seemed that Chip had forgotten to mention to this investigator that at a recent junior tournament he had finished second.

Chip's coach, J.R. Acosta, an African American, had great patience when it came to teenagers. His humor was appreciated by the members, and, regarding the president's boys, he'd heard every racket and fuzzy ball joke available. Besides being an outstanding tennis player in his own right, he entertained everyone by being a ventriloquist with tennis puppets that imitated the best in the world. Being paid $200 an hour to teach these two teens, he was glad just to watch Chip play a match. When it came to introductions Chip introduced the lieutenant to his coach.

"Zach, meet America's best coach and black ventriloquist."

J.R. laughed at his reputation. "I appreciate the praise, but may I add that some of my best students are white dummies."

Zach roared and was glad that someone could humble teenagers.

The fifteen-year old didn't even bother taking off his sweats. Chip simply toyed with the investigator who was a decent recreational player. Back and forth, chip shot, slice, topspin, Chip used his ball control sense to move the adult corner to corner in play. Zach had no answer for the boy's control. It wasn't the score that concerned this brash teenager, but the importance of making sure the man sweated; thus, a shower was almost a certainty. If there was a parallel between the players, they both smiled with their joy of exertion. What could have been easily a bagel, ended up 6-3, and 6-2 with Chip's generosity.

More entertaining might have been Philly's role as ball boy. He often had both players in stitches with his antics. Chip got his wish in the locker room as the two players stripped down for a shower. The teen managed to cramp his erection between his thighs while other players were showering, but let it spring upward when it was only he and Zach. The lieutenant had to subdue reinforcing this teenager with the antics. Chip Carver was truly incorrigible.

Another individual in the bleachers had enjoyed seeing this boy trample the likes of Lt. Stringer. Senator Addling was an avid member of the club and often played doubles with the president's boys. He always made sure that Chip was his partner. The two could beat any doubles team in political circles. When he heard of this co-called competition that included golf, he infringed on this golf outing by implying that the country club prefers foursomes. Zach knew this was an underlying rule and obliged the senator.

Since it was Looper's day off, he would complete the foursome. Given the news leak, there was a reporter assigned to keep an eye on the senator. There now appeared an obvious connection between Senator Addling and the president's son, Chip. Certainly the Saturday golf outing confirmed this assumption.

The senator was coy, always manipulative in his dealings with colleagues and constituents. Even before they'd teed off, Senator Addling offered a wager that appeared ridiculous, yet annoying. Though Zach insisted that the senator keep his money, a politician's insistence of defining character by a golf score was more insulting than practical teasing. It wouldn't be till after 18 holes that Zach realized the duping. The bet wasn't made in a competitive sense, but more of a payoff and bribe to keep whatever information the investigator had to himself. All the senator had to imply was that the Lieutenant had asked for money. Since it was paid in a check there would always be a recording. Senator Addling could state that a golf bet had nothing to do with the money.

A quick evaluation of each other's game was established even after the first hole. Like his tennis instruction, Chip had also taken tutelage under a golf pro. The boy was consistent off the tee, straight, just not necessarily long. Zach was long off the tee; a bit erratic at times, but the drives made Chip's eyes sparkle, his mouth droop, and his weekly romance had increased two-fold with this physical prowess of the man he was infatuated with. No one could ever replace Looper but that didn't stop a gay boy from pursuing more trophies.

Senator Addling, on the other hand, was a mediocre player with a variety of hooks and slices. Trouble was, he was never quite sure which stroke would plague his game for that day. Looper was not an avid golfer, but he was a gamer and made no airs that he was anything but a duffer. The agent's foremost duty was to protect one teenager golfer, and even under his sharply dressed outfit with a beige golf sweater, he packed a weapon to go with his ankle holster. Even off-duty he was on-duty.

Outdriving someone by fifty to often a hundred yards on a par-five meant nothing unless one has a short game. Always Zach's weakness, he was amazed at his counterpart's ability to find the green on his second shot. Worse yet, the boy could putt! It became apparent why Chip insisted on match play. Zach still managed to be two up on the turn, then increased this to four in the next five holes. The senator had lost eleven of fifteen holes, while no one, politely, that is, was keeping track of Looper's score. Waiting for a slower foursome ahead of them, the senator and Looper struck up a conversation, while Chip sat next to Zach on a bench.

"I want to hit the ball as long as you some day," Chip admitted.

"You will. Wait until your legs and butt mature. The power comes from your mid-section and legs."

"Some people like my ass."

Zach turned to the teen with a serious look. "Chip, don't sexualize yourself. You have much more in your personality than your sexual charm."

"Well, thank you, Mister Stringer," Chip said in a mock southern accent. He leaned over and kissed the man on the cheek, hoping the senator would notice. "If you're not interested in sex, why work for this sex task force?"

Zach was humored by the question. The kid was never serious. "It's not because I'm interested in sex. Okay, that's not entirely true. I mean, I like sex, but that's not the reason why I have this job. It's complicated. You're way too nosey."

"Doh! I'm a kid. I'm curious. Oh, please, don't feed me the complicated bit. My parents do that. It pisses me off! I can handle the truth."

"Don't get your jammies all bunched up! I'm not being condescending. If you're that inquisitive, I was a homicide detective. Guess I was too ambitious. My supervisor had his own scenario and I had mine. I got kicked to the curb. There! Satisfied?!"

Chip perked up. "So, let me get this right. You thought someone else did the murder and you lost this game of Clue."

"I didn't exactly lose. I still think my assumption was right, but that's water under the bridge."

"Like sperm in a napkin, huh? Gee, it doesn't mean you were wrong."

"No, but when you're a mere minion an opinion is often like that used sperm."

"Yeah, true, but it doesn't mean you can't shoot again," Chip thought.

"Only from another desk, and, in this case, arresting sex offenders."

"Fuck! Go after my dad if you want a sex offender. He's in everybody's pants. Tell me more about the murder."

"You're up."

Chip looked at the front of his pants. "No I'm not."

"I meant on the tee." Zach shoved the boy off the bench and whacked him in the butt with his driver. He would have told the teen that he was also too nosey, but that was a given.

Chip laughed, grabbed his six iron and put the ball a foot away from the flag on this par three. He turned to his adult friend. "Bow down, dude."

Zach lifted an eight iron out of his bag, eyed the hundred-and-sixty-yard hole, with a water hazard at its doorstep, and bounced it to three feet from the hole. He whispered to this youngster, "You're better on your knees than I am."

Chip smiled. "You've heard, huh?"

As they shared the same golf cart, Zach rehashed an investigation into a murder of a security man who worked at the Smithsonian Institute a year earlier. Two teens were arrested on the scene and charged with theft and murder.

"Sounds like a slam dunk," Chip said.

"Too many loose ends. Those teens didn't steal anything; they were sent there as fall guys, dupes for someone else." Though Zach would rather forget this thorn in his side, he found himself recalling his alternate theories, theories that were rejected by someone higher in authority.

"So how old is this Chinese ambassador's son?" Chip asked.

"Nineteen, at the time. I suppose he's still in Washington. He hangs out with the drug crowd without any supervision. A dangerous mix."

"Political influence," Chip spoke off the cuff.

Zach acted surprised. "For a fifteen-year old, you're quick. Where'd you learn all this?"

"Come on, dude, I watch my dad. All politicians are corrupt. If they're caught, they're defended by heavyweight law firms whose job it is to keep the machines and their main players out of trouble and out of jail. The question is not what is good for the country; the issue is securing partisan political power."

Despite Chip's stature standing relatively close and tapping his foot, Zach sank the three-footer, and then conceded the one-footer of Chip's. The investigator had forgotten about the boy's reason for this match and was more intrigued with the conversation. On the sixteenth fairway the two waited while Looper helped the senator find his ball in the rough.

"You strike me, youngster, as someone politically motivated."

"Trust me, Zach, I know how it all works. I'm only in my campaign denial stage and, trust me, I will not run if nominated. And if elected, I will not serve. The fact that I have a surefire plan of action to get us out of wars, solve our tax problem, obliterate the national debt, and aspire our economy to rapid growth obviously disqualifies me as a presidential candidate. I don't want to be any more than I am today, a common, sexually active, ordinary, gay, liberal advocated, simple savior of America's destiny. Thank you, Mr. Stringer, for allowing me to make my position clear this early in my campaign."

Zach roared with laughter and lightly punched this young man next to him. He'd played along with this teenager because he was on a mission. Every bit of common sense told him that the boy was dangerous, out-of-control, and an undisciplined, spoiled child. That all changed over the past few holes. There was just something amazing about this kid.

"If I ever run for office, I'm getting you to write my speeches and run my campaign."

"I'm your man," Chip replied. "We have nothing to fear but fear itself and the boogeyman."

To make Looper's day, he sank a forty-foot putt on the eighteenth. The putt put everything else in perspective. As the senator whipped out a wad of hundred dollar bills and a checkbook, Zach put out his hand to stop any payment.

"I never intended to take advantage," the investigator admitted with the truth.

"Young man, it was my idea. I don't fudge on my bets." The senator stuffed several hundred dollar bills into Zach's pocket, an additional thousand on a push. "Donate it to my reelection campaign."

Zach smiled. Underneath his breath he mouthed, `As if that's going to happen.'

The men and one presidential first boy had lunch together in the club house. Nothing was mentioned of the agreement until Chip was standing next to Zach at the urinal and looked over at the man's penis. It was a planned event.

"We're one and one. A playoff. How about a fifty-yard sprint in the pool?"

"Suppose you take swimming lessons, as well?" Zach asked.

"The bet was that I only had to win one of these sports. I'm actually not that great in the water."

"When and where?" Zach asked, maybe with too much wine in his system.

"Next week. I'll let you know. Looper will have to rent the pool at Georgetown. We'll look at it as rubber game. I'll concede the porn if you win."










Chapter Six


If Zach assumed Looper's invitation for dinner meant a discussion about Chip Caver, or worse, he was very mistaken. From a dinner at one of Washington's finest restaurants, to a movie, Zach finally realized what this actually was--a date. There were no preludes to sex, no kissing, just the usual preliminary chess moves of personal histories and getting each of them to open up about themselves. Given the nature of each of their shyness, there was often more humor in silence than in conversation.

Zach had stayed discreet through most of his life. He was beginning to think there was something to this gaydar that young Chip Carver had spoken of. Was he really that obvious as someone attracted to his own sex? It was even harder to believe that a handsome man as Wenzel would ask him out.

Chip Carver was not privy to this excursion between two of his favorite men. He was busy researching the events of a murder at the Smithsonian Institute thirteen months previous. From recorded and public records of this event, Chip had the means and the resources to go far deeper. Whenever the FBI completes a criminal investigation of a leak of classified information, the results are forwarded to the Department of Justice for a decision about whether a prosecution is warranted. Chip found the remnants of such an investigation. Why a haphazard theft and murder of a security guard inspired such an investigation intrigued Chip very much. To Chip's young, inquisitive mind, someone had either exploited this interest to their own political ambition or were trying to hide something far more devious.

Chip had always appeared disinterested or a nonchalant bystander when Looper was working with his computer. By now Chip had commanded a vast amount of information on Secret Service computers. He'd studied LoD, Legion of doom, a massive underground system of hackers and handles. An old system, it helped Chip formulate advanced software systems for getting information that wasn't necessarily public. Being the president's son, he could be the naive hacker who blundered his way onto police boards by accident. To log on to an underground board can often lead to experienced liberation, to enter a world where, for once, money wasn't everything and adults didn't have all the answers.

After three hours of divested energy, Chip had a thorough understanding of a murder investigation that appeared simple by a layman's viewpoint, only to be convoluted and complex at the roots. This was far more fun than computer games. It also gave the teenager a rush of adrenaline far exceeding the thrill of destroying five zillion lousy space invaders. In this case his computer simulated reality, but simulations are just make-believe and the stuff in computers is not real. But his information held far more reality toward the truth than Zach had been given credit for.

Chip had a bio-file on an interesting Chinese adolescent, now twenty years of age and living somewhere in Fairfax County in an expensive condo. Living a glamorous life of an ambassador's son had a lot of freedoms and less responsibilities than being a president's kid. Three arrests, all drug related, hadn't infringed on the young man's mobility or access to crime ingenuity.

Chip wanted to cripple this arrogant asshole at the knees. He'd do it as his own game. All boards are pseudonymous. No one needed to know that he was only fifteen. With a little practice at subterfuge he could talk to adults about adult things and be accepted, if not taken seriously. He'd discovered this in sex. There was nothing an adult could do that he couldn't; plus, he had a penis longer than most men. Chip wasn't sure why teens like himself would be excluded from having sex with men like Looper. He could certainly out do the man in bed. Maybe it was to protect the adult from being embarrassed with their lack of staying power.

He now had to decide how to approach this internal investigation of his as a girl. An old man? Or maybe a teenager interested in the drug trade? Certainly this drugged-out China man wouldn't suspect he was being dogged by a boy.

Hsu Chung wasn't immune from the U.S. government spying on his bulletin board for his acquaintances and daily activity. He had no idea that a kid had cracked his personal code to private information. Not that he kept anything of value to lead to criminal prosecution in his files. Computer intrusion was such old hat that even an intelligent twenty-year old no longer expected an act of intellectual exploration. Hsu Chung was an older and wiser veteran, convinced his immunity by being an ambassador's son would give him carte blanche to whatever nefarious acts he had in mind. It had certainly protected him for the past nine years in a country he despised, yet relished for its material capitalism and debauchery.

In many ways over the past several months Hsu Chung had cleaned up his act as a routine slave in obtaining minor riches within the reaches of Washington, D.C.'s drug trade and financial clout. He was now a major player, but his ultimatum goal was to achieve worldwide recognition and praise from the Chinese government far exceeding the status of his father.

By evening Chip was a little bored with his computer intrusion of a suspect who possibly had nothing to do with the Smithsonian murder. After all, it had been only a hunch of Zach Stringer, who had never really established himself as a crack homicide investigator. Maybe his supervisor was right in canning the guy. The fifteen-year old was amused that Hsu Chung thought of himself as a self-described techno-rat, a dissident, per se, and one who proclaimed to others that devices, laws, or systems that forbid access, and the free spread of knowledge, are provocations that any free and self-respecting hacker should relentlessly attack. The privacy of governments, corporations, and other soulless technocratic organizations should never be protected at the expense of the liberty and free initiative of the individual techno-rat.

Chip thought about this and decided that Hsu Chung shouldn't complain that his computer was being snooped on. Chip located the whereabouts of two teenagers in the federal system, both having received life sentences for the murder. They were now sixteen and seventeen-years old, respectfully, both tried as adults. Chip took this as a personal affront, the boys barely older than he was. If they hadn't committed the murder it was a true waste of life.

Off to school on Monday, Chip whispered to his favorite agent that he desired two things: an hour in the Georgetown University pool and he wanted to visit a federal penitentiary--a specific one, that is.

Looper frowned. The pool wasn't a problem, but this visit to a prison was stretching it. He needed a reason.

"A case of human interest and compassion," Chip replied.

"Bullshit! Since when does Chip Carver care about common criminals?"

"A new side of me," the teen explained.

"Humor me."

"You are always insisting that I look at things from other people's viewpoint. I'm trying here. Maybe the visit will stop my swearing. Okay, that's a far reach. Think of it as a classroom project. It'll look good in Teen Magazine: President Carver's son visits the less fortunate. Other kids will think I'm all mature and everything."

"Maybe I should check with your teacher."

"Maybe not. Come on, Looper, I introduced you to Zach, don't forget. He's seen my dick before yours. I encouraged him."

"I'll think about it."

Come Wednesday evening Looper told Chip to be ready at eight that evening. They snuck out of the White House and took a White House Mercedes, tinted windows and all, up to Georgetown University. Zach was already waiting in the parking lot. Inside the natatorium a security guard handed Looper the keys to lock up after they were done. It was when they were disrobing and Zach brought out his swimsuit that Chip defined the rules.

"No swimsuit. It's a skinny dipping pool after eight o'clock."

"Really? Since when? I doubt that the Hoyas swim naked at their meets."

"Of course not. Their swim meets are before eight o'clock. Anyway, I didn't want anyone taking advantage, like, wearing a full body suit," Chip said.

Zach brought out a blue Speedo. "This is hardly a full body suit."

"How about me? I forgot my suit and I have priors for getting my way." Chip began to rub an oil all over his naked body. A ploy that had a purpose.

"And that's not cheating?! What is that, some sort of agent to help you glide through water?"

"Okay, okay, okay. Just so you know I'm not trying to pull one over on you. Here, turn around."

Zach was hesitant, but complied to get this over with. "I suppose this is by Presidential decree."

"You're getting the hang of it," Chip responded.

He did the man's backside, then started on the front. Working in between the legs was fun, until Zach started to lower his arms in protest.

"Get those arms up!" Chip demanded and pulled on the extended organ, making sure it was well oiled. He received his intended reaction. It engorged.

"I'm not swimming with an erection," Zach protested and turned his back on his opponent.

"You're such a wuss! Oh, have it your way. We're starting in thirty seconds."

Chip zipped out of the locker room, his bare ass was the last thing Zach saw while he stood there with almost a full boner. Tricked again, Zach could only shake his head while jumping up and down to diffuse the blood flow. He dashed out to this amazing swim complex and saw his competitor on a starting block with a swim brief on.

Looper was by the side of the pool, starting gun in hand, a large smile creased across his face. "Figure the boy would sucker you. He did the same thing to me at the pool in the White House. His brother and sisters were in the pool to my surprise. Come on, no one is around."

Zach shook his fist at the laughing teenager. At least the blood leftover after the arousal had given him an impression endowment.

Looper gave a ready command and fired the gun. Both males found out quickly that a hundred meters might sound short, but the first fifty had taken the speed right out of them. They both hit the turn at the same time, neither one bothering with any type of flip turn. Zach caught an early rhythm on the home stretch, feeling himself gradually extending his lead over this teenager in the next lane. When they both touched the wall, it was a clear victory for the adult of this pair.

Tired, if not happy to just complete these two laps, Zach welcomed the hug offered by his competitor. He allowed himself to submerge, then dropped the boy's red Speedos by yanking them off. A quick whisper had them lift themselves from the pool and walk toward Looper. In one swift grab, they had the agent trending water. Looper quickly disrobed, save his credentials and weapons from becoming totally drenched.

The threesome frolicked in play, this massive pool at their beckon. It was Zach's eyes which caught a glass observation area above the diving complex. A few college students had walked by and noticed the three guys in the pool. They waved down and gave a thumbs up to the obvious nudity. Leave it to Chip to climb out of the pool and wiggle his penis for all to see. He made sure to wave the towels, one tiny swimsuit, and Looper's clothes to his college admirers. In a sprint he departed to the locker room.

"Come on, guys, I'm hungry!" Chip yelled back with a smile.

Looper and Zach had no choice but to stroll naked to the delight of those watching from high above. Looper just hoped these voyeurs were far enough away not to recognize the president's son.

In the shower Chip was at the height of his glory with two of his favorite men naked around him. He kept dropping the soap, only to receive slaps to his ass for his efforts. Fortunately there were no press or bystanders wanting autographs when the guys exited the natatorium.

As promised, Chip handed over a microchip filled with pictures of his antics in front of a web cam. He asked with pleading looks if he really had to give up his web cam. Zach had taken a charm to this kid and gave him a reprieve on this one. There was an exchange of kisses and Looper verified their planned date the following Saturday. Chip was caught by surprise, but delighted.

"You guys seeing one another?!"

"Eat your heart out, youngster," Looper replied.

"But my birthday is this weekend. You've got to come."

"I'm sure we'll come," Looper said and realized what he had just said. There was no way he'd miss the boy's sixteenth birthday.

Chip gave off the raised eyebrow look that nothing could get by him.

"I don't mean that type of come. Come on, guys, I'll be sixteen, practically an adult."

Zach reached over to pinch the boy's cheek. "That's what worries us. Did you stop to consider that our date might be at your party?"

"Oh, yeah." Chip smiled, and then stopped to hug them both. "You guys are so cool."

Though Zach's heart had softened for this precocious youth, it was this act alone when Zach knew that Chip Carver was a very special boy indeed. He had just figured out why Looper acted like an older brother to the president's son.






















Chapter Seven


With Mrs. Carver's permission, Looper was able to escort her son to Steuben Federal Prison, near the Navy academy. Both of the convicted murderers were housed in the same facility.

In the First Lady's mind, she thought the visit to a prison might be a good idea for her eldest son. The boy didn't always follow rules and was somewhat challenging to authority figures. This side of life might persuade the young man to be more conscientious.

The prison was notified of this impending visit from a member of the First Family. Not sure of its relevancy, the administration took it just as serious as if the president himself was attending. A sixteen-year old requesting to see two murderers raised eyebrows. Escorted by three Secret Service men, it was Looper who entered the visitation room with Chip. He appeared a frightened, eyes wide-open, and scared little boy, though he told Looper that this was no sweat.

The two teenagers, one white, one black, dressed in red jumpsuits, were waiting behind a metallic table. Rather than have the boy and agent sit on small circular metal seats, special comfortable chairs were brought out. Chip thought this bit of luxury made them stand out from the other visitors, though they were made to sit quite a distance away. Chip just sat down on the metal plate, not wanting to be treated different. Two prison guards moved that much closer to protect their visitor.

"Hi, guys!" Chip greeted and received stares of confusion, if not annoyance.

All the jokes and teenage cohesiveness had seemed to evaporate from his memory.

"You've got to be fuckin' kiddin' me," the black teen spoke and stood up.

The guards moved in and literally pushed the guy back onto the metal stool. The threat had been made before these men came out: One wrong move and they'd find their ass in administrative segregation for three months. Even the intervention didn't stop the complaint.

"What's this all about, dude? I'm not playing Romper Room for some pimply child! I don't give a fuck who his old man is!"

The heavier guard took hold the convict's neck and put a great deal of pain behind his words.

"I ain't kiddin', jerk off. One more move and I'll drag your ass out of here. Got it?"

There was a pretend toughness that no one told him what to do, but the nineteen-year old raised a hand to show compliance. He looked like the devil when he focused on Chip. His consent to this visit was more out of curiosity on meeting a kid with some importance. Why? He wasn't too sure himself.

"Your old man sendin' ya to get all scared straight? I'd like to fuck you, personally."

The two teens laughed at Chip's expense, and the guards let it go as if it was expected. For a change Chip felt intimidated, bullied, and not quite sure what to say. Looper started to say something when Chip didn't, but Chip held up his hand to ward off a reply.

"Look it, guys, I'm sure you're all that. It's not what it seems. My father doesn't even know I'm here. I have a friend, see, who did the investigation on your case. He doesn't think you killed anyone, nor do I."

Looper sat up straighter and wasn't pleased that this was the first time he'd heard about this.

"Is that so?" Wright spoke for the first time. So who the fuck did kill the guy?"

"If I knew who the fuck killed that guy, you wouldn't be here, would ya? I think you two know who killed the man but maybe you're too scared to tell."

The black dude went from a tough guy pose to a smirk. He looked at his accomplice. "This little dick has balls to call me scared. I wouldn't be too scared to have his tight ass."

Louie turned back to face Chip, his prison look somewhat relaxed.

"Check this out, bitch. If this is a school project or a feel good, fuzzy feeling trip, get your lame dick out of my face before I leap across this table and joke your squirrelly ass."

Many boys might have pissed their pants. Chip cracked up. Looper was ready to leap, as were two officers close by. To get a hand on the president's boy would have taken far more ability than either of these convicts had. Chip finally spoke up.

"Shit, you're good! I don't even talk that way to my brother, and I can get really mean. Bet my friends at school would find that really cool. Is that, like, patented prison lingo, or can I use that?"

Looper tried his best to subdue a laugh. Even one of the guards covered his mouth. While Louie fumed with his idle threat, Mat started to laugh.

"Come on, Lou, you got to admire the little bugger for comin' in here. Tell me, squirt, what's this all about?"

Though there was nothing cute about the black convict, Chip found Mat rather handsome. He was disappointed when he noticed the tattoos on the teen's arm, but that could be overlooked. Chip exaggerated to gain some confidence.

"This is sort of a project for me. I've come across some evidence that may vindicate you two. I just need to know if you were set up and who did it? You were dealing drugs, right? So someone had to benefit from setting you up."

Chip waited and received blank stares, but there were answers behind the looks. "Come on, guys, is a life sentence worth it? I'd snitch on my grandmother to get out of a life sentence."

Louie glanced at Mat, then back at Chip. There was a trust factor here, one of suspicion that anyone would take an interest in them at all. They had both adjusted to prison life, Louie being forced into a relationship with an older black guy to survive, while Mat had the protection of white supremacists, but still having to serve several shot callers. He had learned to survive as a rent boy.

"What t' fuck, Lou! If you don't tell the kid, I will," Wright said.

Lou stayed silent. He eyed this youngster for still being there. In the other seat Mat leaned forward and traded glances between the officers and Looper.

In a lowered voice, Mat said, "There's this Chinese guy who we knew. He fucked us. Told us that there was a drug pickup at the rear door of the Smithsonian. When we arrived the door was open and this security guy was dead. They had this gun with my fingerprints on it. Man, I didn't have a gun with me. That's all we know. Now how about you sending me some hot pictures of yourself?"

Chip didn't back away, even though the guards moved closer. All his suspicions were now confirmed. "Why didn't you run?" Chip asked the obvious question.

"You fuckin' don't know shit, do ya, kid? The cops were already notified. Like they were on us before we could get the hell out. Now how about the pictures."

"Why?" Chip asked.

"Cause I think you're sexy. Bet you've never even had a blow job," Mat said.

"Dude, you have no idea. That's not what I meant though. You musta pissed off Hsu Chung, right?" Chip knew that would get a reaction and it did. Now they wouldn't think he hadn't done his research.

Lou heard the name and came alive. "How t' fuck do ya know that guy?!"

Lou lifted straight up from his chair, but an officer was too quick and took two steps forward to push the man downward again. Chip never flinched but was prepared to bolt if necessary.

Chip raised his hands as if to calm the guy. "Like I said, I've done my homework. I just need to know why he set you up. Hey, you're in here for murder. Maybe you ripped him off earlier, or he thought you were going to."

"Shit! You know nothin'," Lou explained. "We done paid for that crack. That asshole wasn't getting rich off of us."

Mat offered his logic that he'd kept to himself for a long time. "It was that fuckin' cop at Smithsonian. That Chinese fucker had him capped, then blamed it on us to make it look like a robbery gone bad."

Chip thought about this. Same logic he had come up with but why would anyone want to steal anything from the Smithsonian? Eventually someone is going to report any artifact up for sale. There were things no one knew and might not ever know.

"I know you guys must think I'm some kind of a pampered, snot-nosed brat. Like that is news. It's because I'm only fifteen I can act a fool. Yeah, I'm a lame to you guys, but you got railroaded. I know it and so do you."

Chip realized he had just disarmed these two characters with his honesty. "Really, guys, I have some ideas. Who would you want working for you, a son of the President of the United States or some lame ass public defender?"

Mat finally laughed and was beginning to think this teenager had balls. Louie wasn't so convinced. He wasn't so sure he could make it on the outsides anyway. Room, board, sheets and all the books he could read were at his fingertips. Yeah, he gave it up almost on a daily basis, but his homies treated him right. He brought up his "fuck you" finger.

"You take your school project and shove it up your ass, white boy! You're a punk thinkin' you can just strut in here like your somebody."

All Chip could think of was that Michael Jackson sang it doesn't matter if your black or white. It sounded kind of lame to even Chip.

Chestman spun to one of the officers standing there. "Who the fuck does this motherfucker think he is? I've had enough! Get me the fuck out of here."

Chip spread his arms. "Gee, what did I do?"

The black man stood up but didn't lunge. As he was being handcuffed he spat at Chip. "If I ever get out of here I'm going to fuck your life up, motherfucking bitch. Just like your old man, racist white trash."

He resisted the tug on his jumpsuit, and then was practically dragged from the visitation room. Two more officers ran over, prepared to escort the other convict out, as well. Chip looked over at Looper. His Secret Service agent was hardly finding this amusing. A little embarrassed and feeling he'd rather be anywhere but here, Chip also glanced at Mat to see if this other teenager felt the same way. Mat sat back and crossed his legs.

"If it's okay I'd like to talk to this guy a little," Chip hinted.

Looper raised his hand up to the officers and explained the boy's desires. Wright was given five more minutes by a very disgruntled sergeant. The visiting room had taken on a war zone. Chip yanked his thumb at the departing inmate.

"Did your buddy kill the man at the Smithsonian?"

Mat appeared more relaxed and willing to talk. "He's not my buddy, and no he didn't. Listen, Carver, I know you're lame to all this. Lou is black and this is as good as it gets for a lot of black people. Leave him the fuck alone. You got me thinking. I don't know your game, but you're just a punk kid to me. Your old man isn't going to listen to you and no one is going to reopen this case because you have some ideas."

Chip understood where the guy was coming from "Look, I'm not someone who just thinks about my next jerk off session. I know people. You say Lou didn't kill the guy, but then how did they find his fingerprints on the gun?"

Mat pondered the question, like this was the first time anyone had asked. "Chung took us target shooting at the dump the previous weekend. It's all I can think of. He had both our fingerprints on his guns."

Looper leaned forward on his elbows. "Did this Chung wear gloves?"

Mat thought back to this time. "Yes, he did, come to think of it. Kind of strange because it was real warm out," Mat admitted.

New thoughts popped into Chip's head. "So you bought drugs from this security guy before?"

"Never. We didn't know him until that night. Actually we never did meet him. He was dead when we arrived."

"How did Chung let you know where to pick up the drugs?"

"He texted me."

"Where's your cell phone?" Chip persisted. He saw all the evidence taken that night but no cell phones.

"That's the strange thing. Chung said he didn't want us to take our cell phones with us, so we put them in the car. Never could figure that one out. The police never said they recovered them."

Chip smiled at Looper. Any nitwit would know that the cops would trace the text back to its source.

"So the cops don't have your cell phones," Looper said rhetorically.

"Not that I know of. I put mine under the dash. I have no idea where the car is. They impounded it."

"Probably in storage, or the police have already sold it," Looper said and added, "I'll check on it. Not that it'll do any good, other than support your story."

Looper glanced over at Chip and pointed at his watch. "Any more questions, sport? These officers are getting antsy."

Chip pondered for the moment. "Let's say that Chung knocked off this guy, then wanted someone else to take the blame. The guy knew too much. Did Chung ever talk about the Smithsonian Institute when you guys were paling around?"

Mat chuckled. "You really are fifteen. Look, dude, we weren't pals. Yeah, we smoked dope together and he liked to tour the place. Didn't even have to pay."

"Tour what place?" Looper alertly asked.

"The Smithsonian. Maybe they have something Chinese in there."

Looper raised his eyebrows with the answer. Chip shrugged his shoulders and stood up in preparation to leave. He whispered to Mat, "Pictures, right? I'll get your address." Chip winked.

Mat Wright waited for the correctional officer to direct him to stand, yet the prisoner had one more offering. "Chung knows that the president decorates the White House with antique furniture from the Smithsonian."

Chip whipped back around. "A lot of people know that," Chip replied, not thinking of any significance.

Mat stood firm and wasn't about to finish this. "How many drug dealers to you know who give a fuck what your house looks like?"

Chip walked the few steps back to the prisoner. The movement brought several guards to alert. "Thanks, Mat, I'll ponder that." He leaned forward one more time at the annoyance of the guards. "That thing between us two--you know, the pictures. They're for you, right? I get in trouble with these pictures."

Mat smiled. "Yeah, kid, I'll keep them under my pillow. Fantasy material."

Chip grinned and spun off toward Looper. They were quickly escorted through several gates and portals to the outside. An officer approached Chip at the shuttle which took them to the parking lot. It almost has Looper intervene.

"Mr. Carver, would you like to file charges against Inmate Chestman for terrorist threats?"

"Why do people call me mister?" Chip said rather rhetorically. "But he's not a terrorist, is he?"

"In this respect he is," the guard answered.

"I'll think about it," Chip replied and moved ahead of Looper to board the tram, glad to be only fifteen and a free person. Prison is a side of life that was an eye opener.

Only on the way back did Looper finally ask, "Why the interest in all this, kiddo?"

"Did you know that Zach got fired and shoved into the sex patrol because of this case?"

Looper had to smile at that assertion. "He did mention a little about that. I wouldn't call it firing. If it were you, I'd think you would call it a promotion."

Chip punched Looper in the shoulder. The boy loved Looper's subtle humor. "I don't always think of sex. Like a few minutes ago, those guys scared the shit out of me. Know what, I don't think I'll say fuck or motherfucker anymore. The way they say it, it's so crude and offensive. I'm not a bitch either."

Looper moved his hand through the boy's hair. A boy's vulnerability is a cherished aspect that must be adored. "Don't take it personally, my friend. Words are meant to intimidate or demean. They're harmless, but it shows signs of limited vocabulary and character. I'm glad you learned something."

"Yeah, but they didn't kill anyone, even if one of them is an asshole."

"Glad to see you haven't forgotten some words."

Chip smiled.
























Chapter Eight


The President's helicopter landed on the White House pad, just south of the ground-floor entrance. Looper and Chip had just returned from their visit to a federal penitentiary, but to Philly it was like his brother had gone on a vacation and he had to know everything.

Like a devoted son, Chip ran with his brother and sisters to greet their father. It might have looked like devotion, but it was more of a race on which sibling could reach the south lawn quicker than the others.

President Carver, happy to see his wife and children after an extended trip to the Far East, hugged each child separately, giving each a kiss on the cheek. He gave a swat to his eldest son, silently his favorite.

"That's for doing a good job keeping an eye on your brother and sisters. Been behaving yourself?"

"Sure, Dad. Got into a little trouble with Errol Flynn and his sword and all, but no big deal. Teachers can get so uptight."

The president gave a bewildered look, always trying to make sense out of his son's antics. He saw Looper and stuck out his hand.

"Special Agent McElroy, always good to see you. The kids haven't been giving you any problem, have they?"

"Nothing that can't be resolved with physical persuasion, Mr. President. Perhaps one of your children requires more attention than the others, but that's why we have attack dogs on the grounds."

Chip overheard the comment and gave his favorite person an ominous stare as his father laughed at Looper's honesty.

"My boys always have a way of upstaging even our foreign problems," the president said in humor.

He stepped into the White House elevator, recently renovated with modern decor with new blue buttons which the President wasn't allowed to push. Looper did that for him. Oddly, the First Lady was not present. A private function had her attention. Though she was a private citizen, the words were just another conundrum to the responsibilities of America's prominent mother. Considering she had a paid staff, her functions were often very important, however unofficial they might be.

President Carver strolled by the small White House theater, where he'd rather be watching the latest Spider Man movie with his sons than dealing with a difficult senate.

The walls had a new look, several sculptures and paintings by Frederic Remington that he had recently ordered from the Smithsonian collection. It was the First Lady's decision to keep the decor fresh and quite changeable so that there was always something new to look at and admire. The children loved examining historic works of art, at least the girls did.

At the end of a wide corridor the men turned left into a small foyer walled with expensive wood latticework and then right to go outside again because there wasn't a corridor from the White House into the West Wing.

"Coffee coming right up, Mr. President," a sailor in the White House Mess, run by Navy stewards, spoke upon seeing the president.

As President Carver took a chair he was poured his hot cup from a silver pot. The fall air had cooled enough that the president welcomed anything warm. William Blake, the president's Chief of staff rushed into the Mess like he'd been caught with his pants down in the next room.

"Mr. President, welcome back."

"Your zipper, Bill. Didn't mean to interrupt your time with our secretarial pool."

Bill laughed, not willing to admit or deny the president's assumption. The man dabbled, just like his boss, with the beauty and the receptive women hired within the White House walls. So far only former President Clinton had his peccadilloes revealed to embarrass the White House.

Looper hung close by, not because he had to, but because he was expected to. The president would soon ask about his children, one by one, and Looper would keep a full accounting of their progress. It was given that there would be a weakened version of all that Chip was involved in. The president already thought of his eldest son as a mirror image of himself at that age, a problem child who would eventually mature. President Carver saw defiance and stubbornness as a tribute to leadership.

Eventually the president rose, then strolled through a narrow corridor until he'd come to the Roosevelt Room, named for Teddy. President Carver had only Looper follow him in, which meant a closed conversation about his family. Relaxing in one of his favorite rockers the president lit up a cigar, something his wife totally frowned upon when she was around.

"Give me the long and short, Looper. Any problems?"

"Not really, Mr. President. Your Chipper made some waves when he took the waxed figure with him to school, but nothing most junior high kids don't look at on a nightly basis."

The president grinned, having heard the details earlier from Mrs. Carver. "Frank has a sense of humor, I'll give him that much."

"Frank, sir?"

"Yes, of course, you might not know him. Frank Sommers, one of the curators over at the Smithsonian. He does the lifelike characters for historical sake. I've read where Flynn was so long in the crotch the man let it all hang out between takes just to shock the actors. A great actor, though a bit too much of a faggot for my taste. He'd fuck any boy or girl who gave him a second look. In Hollywood, that's just about everybody."

Looper smiled out of respect. He hated to hear the words faggot, queer, and any other derogatory word denoting sexuality. Sadly the president used them all.

"The boy had Johnny Weissmuller delivered today. If Flynn had the length, Tarzan has enough girth to make a baby's arm."

The Head of State didn't smile as his eyes moved around the room at the décor. "My boy is fascinated with dicks at his age. Dare say he's getting one like his old man. It's tough enough concentrating on school. Now the boy has a new toy to play with. Has the Russian boy been over again? What's his name? I always forget."

"Yuri Pacheko, Mr. President. And, no, but he'll be here this weekend for the boy's birthday party."

"Ah, yes. Thanks, Looper, I practically forgot. Remind me to get the boy a present. Anything he needs?"

Looper might have said more father and son time, but he sort of liked being the boy's mentor and advisor. He could never replace the role of a father, yet a great deal of Chip's rebellious attitude at times was a direct result of missing a father's input.

"You know Philly and Chip. Video games are their favorites."

"Yes, of course. That Pacheko kid, a bit on the effeminate side, don't you think, Looper?"

Looper fumed inside but kept his cool. "Well, Mr. President, he is very affectionate, but Chip and Philly like him."

"Maybe the boy sucks their dicks. It's okay if the boys experiment at this age. I know I did. Don't you think it's boys will be boys, Looper?"

The agent wasn't too sure if this was a set-up question, like a test to determine one's morality. Looper played it safe.

"Boys are so Ariel, Mr. President. One day they're making it with their best friend; the next day a pretty girl catches their eye."

"Ah, you're so right, Looper. Well said. Have you caught a girl's eye, yet, my boy?"

"No, Mr. President. I'm too aloof. The boys have my full attention, I'm afraid, but don't take that as a complaint. I love my job."

"You're practically one of the family, Looper. I have a few selectees myself around here. If you need to get your rocks off, don't hesitate to give me a hint. There's this redhead in the secretarial pool who will suck you dry. And she knows how to swallow and keep her mouth shut."

"I will, Mr. President. Do you want me to curtail anymore visits by waxed figures for school projects, sir?" If Looper expected caution from the boys' father, he was very mistaken.

"I'm on the same page you are, Looper. Girls just pretend that penises annoy them, and I'd bet you there wasn't a boy in that class that didn't fantasize having one like Flynn. Just make sure my son doesn't lift up Tarzan's loincloth. Let the kids do it themselves."

"Yes, Mr. President. Unfortunately their teacher is female."

"Figures. Probably not getting any either. Let's hope for a substitute that day."

The president checked his notebook that had listed any movement of his family by the names the Agency had so designated. Mrs. Carver was FLOTUS (First Lady of the United States), while Chip was called Romulus; Philly was Peter Pan; Chelsea was Wendy; and Melissa, being the youngest, had the unique code name of Twinkle Bell. Looper took a deep breath and prayed that no one had noted the trip to Georgetown or the ball game. As long as things went smoothly, Looper's peers were more than happy to not ruffle the sheets, per se. Then he saw the president's eyebrows raise.

"A federal joint?! What was this, another school field trip?"

"Curiosity, Mr. President. The boy has a sense of logic that needs defined. Lawyer material, like yourself, sir."

The president nodded, glad to hear that his son might be following in his footsteps. "I suppose it does a boy some good to see the downside of where criminal activity will get you. Sort of like that program......"

"Scared Straight, Mr. President."

"Yeah, that one. A parent eventually loses that fear instinct in a child."

"I doubt if anything can scare your boy straight," Looper humored, then wished he hadn't said it.

Way too much like a Freudian slip he was glad the president found it funny. A further relief was forthcoming when the president ran his eyes down the revealing itinerary of the Carver family.

"What's the entertainment for Saturday, Looper?"

"A Hispanic group real popular with the kids these days. Twin brothers and their younger sister. A real knockout with a great voice. There's also going to be a pajama party afterwards. I'm sure they'll be pleased to meet you. Be good for the Hispanic community to know that your kids socialized with them."

"Good point, Looper! Make sure we have a lot of press on this. By the way, if the press gets hold of my son's visit to that joint, make it sound all educational. I see where one of their blacks threatened my boy. That'll get him another thirty years. Is the boy handling it okay?"

"Barely a drop of sweat, Mr. President. I'm sure the prisoner's actions doesn't represent the black community, Mr. President. They will likely be embarrassed by someone threatening a fifteen-year old."

"Excellent, Looper. Leak that to the press. We can get mileage from your logic. President's son does a humanitarian effort and gets threatened. I like the sound of that. Terrorists threats won't be taken lightly and will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. My conservative community will press for longer sentences."

Looper tried to back track. "Huh, Mr. President, that's not exactly what I meant. See, Chip wasn't all that offended. He's not sure he wants to pursue any criminal action."

"Not his say, Looper. They've already filed charges. The Attorney General was on it from second one. Talk to the boy for me. We can't take threats lightly."

Wenzel was in no position to argue. He dismissed himself to prepare for an interesting challenge at school the next day. Teachers knew that calls to the Carvers rarely achieved results, let alone a return call. All disciplinary concerns went through the Secret Service agents whose job description hardly involved working with teachers in keeping the Carver children attentive.

For his book report on Johnny Weissmuller, Chip hauled in the life size physique of the famous swimmer and actor who player Tarzan. Mrs. Carver thought it best to fit one of her husband's jocks onto the wax figure. Chip made sure to take it off before he entered his classroom.

Mrs. Ferrer was Chip's English teacher. The dropping of Errol Flynn's costume was a highly catastrophic event. Boys laughed while the girls shrieked. Mrs. Ferrer actually smiled before walking over to lift the 1930's movie star's breeches back over his large endowment.

Sophomores in high school were hardly these innocent children people liked to make them out to be. Someone, probably a girl, had told their parents, which in turn caused a knee jerk reaction to call the head master. Such was the life of an educator, always wary of religious and conservative parents.

When Mrs. Ferrer saw the likes of an almost naked Tarzan come into her room, she instantly used Scotch tape to keep the loincloth in place. Her glance around the classroom saw the disappointment of practically every child there. She well knew that it only took one student to wreak havoc and create a disturbance.

Chip's biography of the exceptional athlete and entertainer was professional and well executed. He had ways of implying humor to his classmates; one reason he was one of the more popular boys besides being the president's son. When he saw that Mrs. Ferrer wasn't looking Chip would pat Tarzan on the ass or pretend to look underneath the loincloth. The laughter always stirred their teacher to glance up in suspicion.

Every student there knew who had snitched on the Flynn incident and they played their animosity to the hilt by glancing at the red-faced girl in the front row. Her apologies through a dozen e-mails didn't take back having their teacher raked over the coals and their class put in the limelight. It was during lunch hour when the boys and six girls in the class all found time to congregate back into the classroom for an elicited view of a penis that was as thick as their wrist and almost as long as Errol's. Chip was the leader of this entourage and loved the see the reaction of his peers, especially the boys. They were sworn to secrecy.

Though their birthdays were days apart, Saturday was the chosen day to celebrate both Chip's and Philly's birthdays. Mrs. Carver went out of her way to make sure that her youngest didn't feel like a second-rate son because Chip's birthday was a few days before his. Beside their Masquez Sounds' visitors, both the French and the Russian sons of respective ambassadors were invited by Chip.

Louie Cieodeux was sixteen, wiry and goofy by nature, Chip found the boy hilarious, if not a tempting straight boy. Yuri Pacheko was Chip's closest friend at school, a new fifteen-year old who was as gay as Chip was, but as closeted, as well. What Yuri didn't know about sex, Chip had taught the cute Russian lad from his own experiences with Looper.

Half the detail assigned to the President's children were women. Often overly protective, they resented Looper for his role far exceeding that of a normal agent. If they could acquire smut on the man, and many suspected as such, they would have used it in a second. Looper still had the upper hand, thanks to the First Lady's directive. He certainly didn't use this tacit power to belittle anyone, but his female colleagues didn't take too kindly to being ordered around by this Pied Piper, as they called him behind his back.

The Masquez Sounds came by limousine, security light, given that children were often considered soft targets. They, nonetheless, were bright-eyed and pleased to be invited to sing for the president's sons' birthdays. Carried by valets were light clothing bags for their night stay at the White House. Naturally the young female of the group had the largest bag.

The birthday party was held in the main dining room. Paper napkins and anything else of birthday vintage were monogrammed and stamped with the image of the White House. Under all this were the words, THE PRESIDENT'S HOUSE.

Angela, the lead singer, wore a tightly fitting white gown, defining the body of a budding adolescent girl at the footsteps of womanhood. So dainty, her contours were of a boy, slim waist, hips, and tight bubble butt. Her lack of undergarments, if not noticed by the boys present, were certainly evident by the adults. The look was more of innocence than sexually provocative. This sheer, naked design was one that raised eyebrows and made men gawk with razor eyes at special event like the Academy Awards.

With only three instruments present, one of the boy entertainers alternated between guitar to piano, while the other played drums. Since they had played together since mere toddlers, they flowed in sync.

Mrs. Carver eyed her children and saw that Chip and Yuri were enthralled with the drummer, while Louis and Philly had their eyes on the singer. Their smiles and intrigue spoke volumes. The First Lady wasn't ignorant to the fact that her eldest son seemed to be more inclined toward his own sex, while Philly spoke often of girls. She wondered how much influence the Russian lad had on her own son. Not that she minded having a gay son, though Mary wasn't sure how her husband would adjust to this fact, if it was a fact. Her appearance at their pajama party that night might give her more of an impression. Certainly with the girls present, there wouldn't be shenanigans between the boys.

From a selection between fish, steaks and ribs, the kids ate to their hearts content. Adjourning to the theatre, the guests and family enjoyed the latest Fast and Furious movie. Two enormous birthday cakes followed, one chocolate with white icing, while Philly loved a cherry cake with chocolate icing. The boys blew out their candles at the same time.

Chip's first words were directed at his mentor, Looper. "Give me the car keys," he said and had Looper pinch the bridge of his nose.

Regretting that this day would come Looper had given the boy driving lessons around the White House grounds. So far no incidences. Not that a driver's license would serve any purpose to a president's kid, it was the aspect of having it in his wallet.

Like a chess game, Chip and Yuri had planned this pajama party in its initial moves. There were only three girls, so they had showered and dressed in their favorite pajamas ahead of the six boys. With Melissa being only eleven, Chip hinted, if not implied, the obvious, hoping any embarrassment might make his youngest sister leave early. It wasn't to be. Teenagers acting silly and daring wasn't anything she wanted to miss. So there would be no surprises and everyone was in cahoots together, both Chip and Chelsea explained to their guests the nature of this birthday bash. They could easily do karaoke or play games. Everyone voted to let nature take its course. No one wanted to be known as the spoilt sport.

The nine kids nervously sat on plushy pillows. They looked like angels in their white robes and new pajamas that ranged from flowery and cartoon prints for the girls, to sport and car designs for the boys that were bought for the occasion by Mrs. Carver. Chip had covered his bases and had the agent who was monitoring the hallway cameras ready to notify him upon any movement of his parents.

Chip put on music by the Rascals, wall-to-wall melody, energy and emotion. Louis was assigned to be the commentator for each individual coming down a supposed walkway where each person would model their pajamas, then remove their top. With his French accent and humor the kids were in stitches while fashionably being exploited by Louis.

For the boys, removing their tops was too routine, their arms hardly defined muscles, though slim waists and unrefined breasts were cute nonetheless. Comical and sexy, they each did their muscle poses, licked their boyish biceps, and made their nipples hard. The girls giggled and saw a side of boys that they found hilarious.

Melissa had gone first for the girls, parading like a Paris model across the shag carpet as Philly's disco light bathed his nubile sister with flashes of polka dot colors. Her long legs and narrow waist were of an unrefined model. Petite boobs were barely more than boys, yet her confidence was unique for someone so young. Giggling with confidence, Melissa was female perfection without the mature components of large boobs or a bushy crotch. She was fashionably sensual as a newbie to adolescence.

Angela was that blossoming young female, more a definition of female twink, pretty and elegant with budding boobs. Louis mentioned that her bellybutton was near perfection to be displayed at the Louvre. Several boys squirmed when their blood flow sent their pajama's projecting upward. The girl's breast were puffy, firm, and perfection magnified. Her nipples were delicate rose buds, delicate in their uplifted rise. This now famous youth singer screamed a squeaky-clean, puppy-love exuberance.

Chelsea strolled out on the runway, a dream come true of exhibiting her mature body to lustful eyes. Louis, who had had a crush on Chip's older sister for months, had a hard-on from second one.

"Here we have the future First Lady; that's if she marries her brother."

The kids laughed and applauded.

"Dressed in pink Bambies, notice the exquisite little deer playfully bouncing above two gorgeous mounds of pink flesh, which, mind you, make my antler stand up. The curves of perfection are now revealed, shoulders of creamy delight, nipples of cherry blossoms, and I think I just came in my jammies."

Chelsea ever so slowly swept her pajama top over shoulders of a princess. Her boobs were full and firm, nipples so ripe they ached for a mouth to devour.

All the nervousness had disappeared from these nine youngsters. Louis had been a hit and, as usual, embarrassed himself by being so honest. Chip and Yuri winked at each other; their ploy of spiking the ice cream topping had created a relaxed setting.

The kids now sat around each other in their bare tops, finishing the cake and ice cream brought up to the bedroom before the runway modeling. It wasn't Chip's intention to get anyone drunk, just to make sure everyone was a little buzzed, as he put it. The hot chocolate also had a tinge of Bailey's Irish Crème from his father's liquor cabinet.

There weren't many in favor of strip poker, but simply chose to spin a hair brush. Wherever it pointed, the person did a striptease to the music.

Philly was either the unfortunate or the lucky one to go first. He had barely recovered from Angela's modeling, but he was funny in his slow strip, revealing his cute buns, than a half-erect penis, which was rising quickly as he hustled to sit back down.

Melissa's hairbrush was spun again and clearly pointed at their commentator. Louis was more demonstrative, peeling down his pajama bottoms to expose his anus with a tint of hair, and then allowing his boner to spring from his waistband. He wasn't shy about his body. When he slowly removed the skin from the glans of his penis, the Carver children had their eyes' locked on their first glimpse at an uncircumcised boy. Louis stepped out of his last remaining garment before he spun to the carpet as an end to his display.

Louis' hand went to his groin when Chelsea was the next selectee. He felt he might come just imagining seeing her naked and began to stroke his erection. His body was alive with sexual energy; the type of adolescent adrenaline that wouldn't last five seconds in a vagina.

"Man, you can't come, yet!" Chip scolded and made Louis stopped his masturbation.

The oldest of the group at seventeen, Chelsea was more acrobatic in her presentation. She possessed an animal magnetism that came with possessing a woman's body. Her dance moves were precise as she removed her pajama bottoms to the clapping of hands and to the rhythm of the music. Her pubic hair had been trimmed with waves flowing from her soft lips.

Louis was biting his lip when his tongue wasn't licking them. His cock pulsated and he knew he couldn't stop the impending ejaculation. A set of fingertips had rested on the tip of his penis, squeezing just underneath the frenulum to stop the impulse. Chip wanted to tell Louis that he'd learned this from Looper, but he never would betray a trust. Louis thanked his friend and had learned something very valuable for his future sexual experiences.

Chip prayed to be next. He wasn't erect, hardly turned on by his sister. His desire to see one of the Masquez boys strip would have meant a total hard-on. Then Allandro watched the brush spin and stop pointing at him. His face showed a slight case of acne, but his dark hair and sculptured face were handsome features for any Hispanic young man. A slim, purple band surrounded his right wrist.

Less athletic in dance, he still spun, moved like a musician with rhythm, and dropped his bottoms in one swoop. Flaccid, his penis hung full and uncut like his brother; his balls hairless and like small Christmas bulbs. He swiveled his hips to allow his penis and balls to flip about. Only a male could play with their genitals in such a fashion and the display brought laughter from his voyeurs.

Melissa giggled and sprang up as her turn came. Being the youngest there she lacked the physical qualities of her peers, but she also knew her sex was still desired. She swirled, did the splits, and disrobed while lying on her stomach. A boyish butt matched almost a hairless crack. She teased Allandro by touching herself, showing the boy that she knew all about masturbation and that a girl can satisfy herself as well.

Instantly Allandro's eyes widened, his smile increased that a girl could be this sexual to him. His boner hardened and seeped at its very tip, as his body leaned forward with the thought of putting his mouth onto this mound of delight. He spread his knees to allow this object of his passion see his boner.

Melissa flipped on all fours and wiggled her cute ass to the smiles of every boy there. Her brothers were the most surprised when their sister spread her ass cheeks to show the tiniest of pink crevices. Even Philly grew hard with this sight.

Gustavo was so awestruck he barely recognized that everyone was now looking at him. He glanced down and saw the hair brush's direction. A wet spot was quite evident above his erection, poking incessantly outward from his bottoms. He allowed it to escape, made it loop and go up and down to the laughter of his peers. Unlikely this exhibition would have happened without alcohol content.

Between the two brothers, Gustavo, who played the drums with easiness, was the more reserved one compared to his brother who played the piano and guitar so energetically. Being the least pretentious of all the kids there he was quiet, unassuming, and delightfully sexy. In ways he was reluctant to show off his sex to girls. When he saw Chip's eyes it was the only draw he needed. His penis' tip glowed with wetness as he lowered his pajamas to step out of them. Embarrassed at this display he all but dove for the carpet after his brief show. He got a hug from Chip.

Yuri was Yuri. Cute, hyper, and lovable as a boy can be who acted girlish. His genitals were hardly threatening, but pure male none-the-less. He did a handstand and a backflip, and then teased his rear end at Chip. The First Boy almost leaped up to penetrate this adorable youngster.

Maybe it was best that Angela and Chip were the last. The hairbrush swirled slowly and finally stopped on this gifted singer. She was an experienced showman, an aspiring actress who adjusted to whatever was asked of her. She did a Mexican dance of swirls, ballet, and artistry. The other girls were impressed, while the boys waited to see her sex. Her powder blue bottoms were delicately lowered to show a line of dark, wavy hairs from a small crack deep between her legs. It was like a tribute to a Picasso, a work of art that made women delightfully wanton.

Moving in front of Chip, she slid her middle finger downward, not quite penetrating the obvious. Chip blushed, realizing she liked him and not aware that he was gay. Few things made this boy turn red, but this was one.

Angela was not as blatant as Melissa, or as womanly as Chelsea. Her body was exquisite, a perfection of female between little girl and mature woman. A virgin physically, her mind raped the boy she wanted to seduce her and make her feel whole. She surprised herself when her fingers came up wet from between her legs. Dazed by the electrical charges that had sent waves of sensation to her brain she sat down quickly and giggled when she was hugged by Chelsea.

He rose, being the last. Without being fully erect, his length was obvious underneath the pictures of Tweetie Bird spread in different directions on his pajamas. He danced to a rock and roll tune of `Good Lovin' that was sounding from his speakers in the corner of his room. Slow and deliberate to show his ass, his strip was not for anyone in particular, as not to offend Yuri. A quick drop of his front to several smiles revealed a Carver secret--they were hung. The pajama bottoms kept lowering and lowering until the circumcised penis head finally sprang out. Almost eight inches in an arching loop, only another rush of blood would have increased it to full size and sent it skyward. There was laughter and applause, even from his sisters. Angela's eyes were glued on this amazing male appendage.

Chip spun, spread his ass cheeks to show a hairless hole and allowed Yuri to touch it with his finger. The kids laughed with the display of a set of balls from a rear position.

A jump out of his pajamas and Chip desired to tease so many desirous eyes upon his groin. He held his dick straight out in front of Angela. Her mind no longer in thought. Human nature brought her hand forward to feel this elongated tube as it was inches away from her mouth.

Moving to his right, as if in tease, Chip put it in front of Allandro. He grinned and moved back on his hands. Gustavo was just the opposite. The sight brought out an intense emotion. He leaned forward to lick the tip and got laughs, but he really did want to taste this delightful sight in front of him.

Chip glanced down to see the boy's 10,000-watt smile and a dick starting to straighten upward. Nothing like the male anatomy to convey passion.

It was decided to break into groups of three, with other rotations later. Then Chip's cell phone buzzed.

"FLOTUS in the hall," the message came. A knock on the bedroom door commenced seconds later.

"Come in!" Chip yelled.

In walked Mrs. Carver, seeing nine smiling boys and girls, all dressed in their fluffy white robes. If she'd looked closer she would have noticed that everyone was sitting on their pajamas. A Monopoly board was laid out in a circle with money scattered everywhere. Mary grinned with the cuteness of so many children just having fun. If she had any other expectations they were quickly forgotten. The swirling disco light was interesting, but the First Lady took it as adolescent ambiance. There were a few boys with bare chests visible through their robes, but it was more cute than sexual.

"Just wanted to check in and see how things were going. Looks like you're having a lot of fun."

"Sure am, Mom. Thanks for stopping by," Chip said.

The First Lady glanced at her youngest. "You doing okay, Sweetie?"

"Of course, Mother. I'm almost a teenager, you know," Melissa announced a little perturbed that her mother would single her out.

Though Mrs. Carver offered to get more cake and ice cream, her graciousness was refused. She patted a few heads and decided that a parent was raining on their fun.

A minute later the robes were removed and every erection there had gone south. That wouldn't last. Chelsea trounced on this opportunity to arrange the pairings. She put Angela, Louis and Chip in one group; Gustavo, Melissa and Philly in another; then herself, Allandro, and Yuri in the final. Chip might have wanted to protest, but he had to give his sister some leeway. She had at least agreed to make this birthday party about birthday suits.

Each group had their own games ready. In Chip's threesome they asked each other sports, music, or any question to trip up the other person. If they didn't have the right answer, they had to do whatever that person wanted. From simple kisses, touching, and fondling, more erotic desires took over as Chelsea had turned off the disco light and lit the candles she had brought. Chip hustled over and turned on his lava light, which flashed intermittent rays of color on bodies of youthful skin.

Angela kept choosing music as her category and getting every answer right. She wanted to watch the boys suck each other off. If Chip thought Louis might balk he was wrong. Louis went down on his peer and engulfed the hardened member to its full length. Chip had no problem doing the same to Louis, bringing the boy close to orgasm.

Louis chose American sports, then made sure to include Chip in his desire. They each licked Angela's sex, and then received a beginner's blow job from someone without a lot of experience. Angie tasted the turtle head tip first, then allowed the spongy organ to penetrate her mouth. Satisfied, if not enlightened, she began to take an inch at a time until she felt it touch her throat. Back and forth she began to gum, then suck in her experiment.

When it was Louis turn he put his hands around the girl's head and started to fuck the mouth. Angie spent less time on this boy. Her first gag was enough.

Only the ultimate sex act remained in silence. Chip was sure that if Angela answered right, she would choose for him to fuck Louis, or vice versa. Instead she wanted to lose her virginity, but to Chip first, then Louis.

Chip was gentle, overly slow, and loving. Angela gasped, air exhaled from her lungs, and then she reached back to push Chip's ass inward. Ever so slowly the rod slipped in, opening the delicate petal and putting this curiosity to one of wonderment on Angie's face. She felt the full member, gradually losing herself in their oneness. Any discomfort was dismissed and all she wanted to feel was the boy possessing her.

To Chip this wasn't about him but enjoying watching and seeing the girl's reactions as he moved in and out, an occasion thrust, and his ass moving to a teasing rhythm.

When it was Louis' turn, he was in haste and pushed his erection straight in. Fortunately Angela was relaxed and prepared. Louis was faster, more energetic in his thrusts and less kissing to his sexual tastes. He came within the first minute to facial expressions that had Angela and Chip laughing. His load filled the girl's cavity.

With the heavy beat of music, moans and laughter, Chip didn't hear the second buzzing of his cell phone, nor see the rapid text message that POTUS was roaming the hallway. The president heard the music from his eldest son's bedroom which wasn't uncommon. He had forgotten about any pajama party. As usual he moseyed to each of his daughter's bedrooms to say goodnight. There were no signs that the girls were present. Into Philly's room, it also was silent, as the president entered the bathroom separating the brothers' bedrooms. Laughter and licentious moans greeted his ears. Certainly the kids were pretending to humor each other. His glance into Chip's room shocked him to his slippers.

Alain could hardly make out the bodies or faces in the diminished light. He was pretty sure he saw one of his sons in a missionary position on top of a girl. The firm ass was hammering home between the girl's legs. Right next to his son, a boy was sucking another boy. Alain was almost sure it was Yuri. He'd always suspected the Russian boy was gay. Spotting his eldest daughter with a boy between her legs, an erection grew quickly underneath his robe. Playing doctor as a kid never reached this level. Sure, in high school he'd gotten lucky twice, but never an orgy. Had kids become this open?

President Carver reached under his robe and pulled out his arousal, stroking it to the sight of adolescent beauty. Not realizing his eyesight was so focused he almost didn't see a boy approaching him to use the bathroom. The president rushed behind the shower curtain just before the teen entered. From the rear the young man was one of the Hispanic youngsters who entertained them at the party. His ass was firm, with a penis barely soft. The boy peed, washed off his dick, masturbated until he was hard, and then hurried back to join his peers.

Relieved at not being caught, the president began to milk his rod again, peeking around the open bathroom door in hopes of spotting his other daughter. This time a girl stood up and headed for the bathroom. It was Melissa. A dash again to the shower stall.

From the shower the president scanned the slender frame of his youngest. When she sat to pee, he was almost sure she would see him. Finished, she stood up, washed her hands and departed. President Carver knew he'd be caught if he stayed there much longer. One more look before he left when he saw a Hispanic boy enter his youngest child from the rear. Melissa was on all fours and encouraging the boy. Louis was on the other end getting sucked. He'd only had sex with his wife once in this doggy position, and here his daughter was doing it. Her lithe frame was beauty in motion.

Alain was caught up in the excitement and came in his hand. He quickly washed off and retreated to Philly's room.

If not by accident, by mere selection did four of the boys find themselves in a homosexual quad. The girls watched for a minute, then began their own lesbian triangle.

Philly had his third cup of hot chocolate, feeling about as inebriated as a new fourteen-year old could feel. He dove into this mass of maleness and found a cock to suck on. Louis found himself odd-man out, so he crawled toward his peers, only to find a body on top of his, a cock pressing into his hole. From an uncomfortable feeling to one of pleasure, a hand reached around and soon had the French boy hard again. Louis melted to having another boy enter him.

Allandro was concerned his cock wouldn't fit in Melissa, but she had taken all six inches with ease. He was now an accomplished fucker and traded positions with Chip on top of Yuri. His brother had been directed by Chelsea, who desired to be taken by this virgin. He came quickly, but kept humping to the thrill of losing his virginity to someone so beautiful.

Philly felt left out, not wanting to screw one of his sisters. He quickly changed places with Louis, and was quickly engulfed by Angela, who was giggly with delight at having both the president's sons making love to her. An orgy couldn't have had more tradeoffs.

Yuri had had his first intercourse with Chelsea, then Melissa. Usually a bottom, when he found Chip on his stomach watching the melee of sex, he sprawled his body on Chip's back, allowing his cock to slide in. Chip rode up on all fours as permission for his boyfriend to pound away. No one gave a second look, but it was Gustavo's kiss to Chip's lips that turned the twosome to a threesome. Melissa finally allowed Louis to enter her. She'd later tell her brother it was a mercy fuck. The boy was too goofy for her taste.

Chip knew he had a virgin in Gustavo, at least as far as the boy's rear went. He relaxed this cute Mexican youth by rimming the boy's ass, making the boy moan and desirous. A slow deliberate entry gave this Mexican musician a new view of all things wonderful that could happen when you love another boy. Chip pulled out, then back in, only to discover that the boy's hands had reached back to make sure that the entire length had stayed in. Gustavo let his murmurs flood the room as nothing had ever made him feel this sexual.

This sexual scene became the nucleus for so many eyes. Satisfied after their own orgasms, the kids gathered around to watch with fascination as Chip pounded his rawness into Gustavo, while reaching around and stroking the hardened cock beneath him. The slapping of skin against skin, the feverish pitch of both boys, led to the ultimate climax.

Chip pulled out and squirted spurts of cum over the boy's back and rear. Quickly he shoved his dick back into the tight hole, and then pulled out. With his erection he shoveled the gobs of sperm into Gustavo's anus, pushing, then gathered another spool, only to drive this liquid inside as well. Finished, he flipped the happy boy over and took Gustavo's dick in hand. In seconds he had masturbated the boy to where shots of sperm flooded his chest and stomach.

"That is so awesome," Melissa said and had everyone crack up at her honesty.

Sexually satisfied, everyone began to gravitate to the shower. Three, four under the hot spray at a time, there was relief that the night had been successful and sex had revealed all its delights to those so young. Being nude around each other now seemed very natural and unassuming.

There were no longer the lubricious stares or unfulfilled fantasies for each other. Like a social gathering of sexes, there was just idle chit chat and talk of school or friends.

The girls slipped back into their pajamas while the boys crawled into their sleeping bags in the raw. Yuri and Chip slept together with their bags zipped as one. Chip was sort of glad he'd come out in a way to his sisters. They knew he was gay, but this was truly a demonstration of how much he knew and desired. Boys were far more fun than girls, even though it was nice to say he fucked a girl. He sighed to himself that the planned event had gone off without a single problem.







Chapter Nine


To protect the privacy of his kids, it was the president who woke the teens up at eight before his wife did. They were hardly in the mood to rise at this ungodly hour. He saw the wrappers of Morning After pills on the floor and was thankful that his eldest daughter was responsible. If his wife had seen this there would have been hell to pay. An honest cough and grin and the president had to admit that his staff weren't the only ones who enjoyed private moments under the White House roof.

The family had a reputation of attending a local church every Sunday, at least when the president was in Washington. Chelsea easily got the Masquez kids to attend with them. No one spoke of the evening events, their thoughts or feelings about their first involvement into this sexual realm of adolescents. The president had assumed that Yuri would decline based on his father's expectations.

As the kids rolled from underneath their sleeping bags, he hoped he'd catch a glimpse of his sons' nudity, so he offered a quick ride after breakfast if Yuri wanted to return to his residence.

"Oh, no, sir. I'd love to go to church with your family. My father gives me a lot of latitude on these matters."

"And other things," the president added with tongue in cheek from what he'd spied upon from their sons' bathroom the night before.

Chip squeezed out from the comfort of the bag, making sure his father saw that he was well endowed, though a few minutes before he had a major woodie.

"Dad, Yuri is my best friend. You don't have to be rude."

President Carver realized he had stared at his son's penis a fraction longer than intended.

"Chipper, I don't mean to be rude, I just thought....."

"Because he's Russian," Chip filled in. "It doesn't mean he's a Communist or Puton's lackey."

President Carver was never pleased at being corrected by anyone, especially by his son. The president patted both boys on the head to show no hard feelings. In his mind he was thinking that the Mexican girl must be in love with him, and his sisters would measure every boy by the size of their brother. It brought a smile to his face.

The Capitol Baptist Church was beyond doubt the most protected congregation in the world. It was the First Lady who mentioned to the pastor that the Masquez kids were present, though the pastor had no idea of their reputation or musical talent. The two boys and their sister sang a gospel song, which delighted the entire congregation and the Carver children. President Carver had to smile at the innocence of angel voices, when hours before these kids were sexual dynamos.

Even the sermon given by this elder preacher dismissed the sexual appetite of the young as almost evil and disrespecting the body of God. He felt sorrow for having the kids listen to this pedantic jargon. After the sermon he spoke to the kids in the limo before they headed back to the White House for lunch.

"Don't put a lot of value in what you heard today. God is your best friend and is glorified by your sexuality that He gave each and every one of you. Just be responsible and safe and enjoy the pleasure that males and females are meant to give to each other."

His father had never showed any interest in his children's private life. Chip didn't think that his father was onto something, only that the man was trying to impose his own values, like the preacher did.

"What if you're gay, Dad? They also deserve to enjoy pleasure and God's gifts."

The president had had a few conversations with his sons and daughters at the dining room table. These were never on sexual orientation. He tried to allow a variance of opinions different from his own. His party and financial supporters on the conservative right expected a hard line against gay marriage and gay rights. Being asked such a question in front of his son's peers had put him on the spot and would make him a hypocrite for his previous liberal remarks.

"Yes, of course, Chipper. Gays deserve our respect." He'd backed down, not wanting to drive a wedge between his son since his best friend was obviously gay.

While the kids were in one limo and their parents in another, it was Melissa who spoke up and revealed a secret she had planned on keeping.

"You know last night I went to the bathroom real quick and saw someone in the shower. I thought at first it was one of you guys, but when I returned I saw everyone there. I think Dad saw us."

There weren't any smiles, only dreadful looks of doom. That is until Chip added, "My father probably got his rocks off watching us. When was this, Melissa?"

"Just before I lost my virginity."

Chip thought about the timing and figured he was either giving Louis a blow job or fucking Angela. Either way it was time he made a stand. His father would find out eventually anyway. Now it all made sense why his father said the things he did. Chip glanced at his friends and siblings.

"I think my relationship with my father is a lot like marriage, a lot of fighting and no sex."

Angela thought it was funny. "You're so cute, Chip."

"Hey, babe, my dick gets me laughs for five minutes. After that, I better be funny. Being gay isn't always enough."

Angela was taken back by Chip's honesty. The boys laughed and Yuri was certainly the most pleased boy in that limo. It definitely froze conversation in the car for several minutes until Angela regained her composure and realized she'd lost a prospective boyfriend.

"If you're gay, I want to marry a gay guy. You know how to make love, babe," she threw back at him.

Yuri smiled to stick up for his buddy. "I know baby. Why do you think the United States and Russia are bed pals?"

Chip cracked up. His buddy didn't fully understand the English language and words like babe.

The afternoon barbecue went splendid in the beautiful fall afternoon. The president and First Lady were both in a good mood, and Chip was even appreciative that his father hadn't blown a gasket when he saw them having sex. There was only that little one division he'd have to come to grips with his father, eventually. How much his father saw was an imposing question. He did stroll over to where his father and Philly were tossing the football. A little father-son time didn't hurt anyone and Chip was prepared to show his old man that gays were just as athletic as straight boys.

From passing to a few halfback moves from his father to show off for his security men around the grounds, neither of his sons were willing to give their father the stage. The president was finally tackled by his sons in a hilarious display. It wasn't the lightest of tackles either, but an upper and lower hit from both brothers. Laughter subsided until everyone was convinced the president had survived the hit. A bit dazed the president stood up, brushed himself off, and put his arm around his sons. They both had smiles on their faces.

"Great job, sons. Damn! Good in bed and on the football field. That's my boys!"

An arm stayed a little longer around his eldest. A more private moment was at hand.

"Don't you think your Russian friend is a little too gay for your kind?"

The smile disappeared quickly from Chip's face. Even Philly had heard the remark from the side. Chip looked up to his father, still four inches taller.

"Dad, you've just proven my teacher wrong; there is such a thing as a stupid question."

With a quick swill from his father's grip Chip was out of there, and Philly followed.

Come evening, another school week was ahead of him. He hadn't forgotten about his visit with the two convicted murderers the previous week. A few web cams of him slowly stripping his clothes off until he was completely naked, without erection, mind you, and he mailed the photos to Mat Wright at the correctional facility with a signature on one of them of the photos. Chip was pretty certain that women sent photos like this all the time to men in prison. Boys should have the right, as well. It was the least he could do for someone who wasn't getting any. Chip had no idea.

Once again he attempted to hack into Hsu Chung's computer to find anything he'd missed before. Problem was with foreigners, their passwords were too often the wrong language. Chip tried backdoors and every trick he knew to enter folders that had folders that had folders.

All of a sudden a text message appeared on his screen: `Hey, Hack, what t' fuck u doin'?!"

Chip knew he'd been caught. His hand was in the cookie jar and he knew the man had piggybacked onto his site. His Facebook page and other information was open for review. There was no hiding the fact that he was snooping.

>>>New kid on the block. Lookin' 4 fun.<<<

>>>How old? First Boy? What the fuck is that?<<<

Chip swallowed. The guy even knew his handle, but it didn't mean he knew what the words meant. >>>14 Sorry if I fucked up<<<

>>>Serious shit, dude. Need $?<<<

>>>Fuckin A! Wats u got?<<<

>>>4 boy w/ balls-big $, corner I & 7th, Tues. 4<<<

>>>I B there<<<

Chip was so scared he felt he was going to defecate in his shorts. What if his dad found out? He was in so much trouble Looper might not even know what to do. He'd lied about his age to throw the guy off, but then there was his brother who was fourteen. Shit! One mistake after another. There was no question he'd have to tell Looper. Kids can do that, tell an adult and make everything better. Worse yet, his birthday was on Tuesday.

The teenager slept poorly, having nightmares that there was a Chinese guy waiting at the main gate. Because Hsu was an ambassador's son the security man would probably let him in, even though he had a gun. Chip jerked in bed, almost screaming as he was shot several times. He woke up with a sweat and then wished Looper was there that second. Six o'clock couldn't come early enough.





















Chapter Ten



lPresident Carver turned his chair around. The windows behind him faced the Washington Monument. His meeting with England's Prime Minister at nine seemed insignificant to his fallout with his eldest son. Teenagers were harder to read than head of states. What had appeared to be a great time with his sons playing football had turned into an angry moment of his son walking away, practically in tears. What was this new generation about, anyway? When he was a teenager you never wanted to be associated with a faggot. Now it was like a badge of honor to have one as a friend. Didn't make a lot of sense. His eldest just didn't understand politics and whose ass to kiss yet.

It wasn't these Oval Office windows he was concerned about, which were incredibly thick just in case some deranged fanatic had a sniper rifle tucked in his coat. No, it was a son who had hit him with verbal shots. Not even military brass dared put him in his place. The only person in the free world who could get away with this was his Chipper. Damn! That both pissed off and amused the President of the United States.

The crackling of the seasoned oak in the fireplace startled the president from his pensive contemplation. He thought of himself as a highly respected man, a mentor for his children, and, most importantly, a leader. Yet a person was invincible only because people thought him to be so, and therefore that person's self-esteem was, like all of the important aspects of life, a thing of the mind. If he didn't have his son's respect then a piece of happiness was truly missing. A distraction was in store. Sixteen-year olds were fickle, the president convinced himself.

President Carver's mind found peace in his policy in dealing with Russia and China. The Russian Republic teetered on the edge of anarchy, caught between having tasted democracy, if not capitalism, and organized control that was Russian history. His real test of the presidency was China. He'd built Americans' confidence in his position of corralling a country that had got its paws into the very core of American values.

A Chinese word, ìguanxiî, is most closely translated in English as "connection." The word is really about the art and practice of taking advantage of vulnerability. They cyber-attack American companies' patents and internal secrets, then pretend innocence like a pickpocket who has bumped into their victim, only to be caught. The victim feels for his wallet while the pickpocket holds up his hand that it wasn't him.

Buy American was no longer a slogan just to enhance our products. It truly meant not to give China anymore currency or leeway into the American life. Intelligence had taken on a whole new meaning, and President Carver intended to be a whole lot tougher than any predecessor before him. From Clinton's "constructive engagement" to Carver's "Anaconda persuasion", the idea of choking China's economic base to its knees was now reality. He now needed his allies' support for a most ambitious project.

The First Lady was standing in the arched driveway as a mother seeing her children to school. There were six Chevy Suburban's that headed in three different directions for elementary, junior high, and high school, all requiring over a dozen agents. It saddened Mary that her children required their own bodyguards. All her kids appeared bright and cheery except Chip. On this morning he was somewhat removed emotionally and withdrawn. His usual bubbly spirit and kiss to her cheek were missing. She hoped it wasn't the turmoil with his father. The boy no longer saw his parents as omnipotent perfection. They appeared on different trains going in opposite directions. Chip was now at the age where a motherly comfort was less important than fatherly advice. Yes, Looper had filled in as the parental image, but a boy still needed his own father. For a sixteen-year old, the boy was far less receptive to his mother's hug and kiss. Even then she had to try.

"Don't worry, your father doesn't always mean what he says."

Near tears, Chip spoke while looking away. "It's not that, Mom. Dad is dad. He's a homophobe."

His eyesight was on Looper, way too busy listening to requests from Chip's sibling that he shouldn't be responsible for, according to Chip. Melissa needed new reeds for her clarinet; Chelsea didn't want agents watching her every more on her field trip; and Philly talked about being fourteen. Didn't they all know that Looper was his! Chip turned from his mother to vent his anger.

"Leave the guy alone! Gee, you're all so helpless!"

The world stopped for that split second as three other siblings locked their eyes on a deranged brother. Chip wanted to cry. He'd never experienced this much pressure on himself in his whole life. Hormones were raging and angst was a teenager's worse nightmare. Straight to the car he didn't even apologize.

No longer having to be told to buckle up, Chip made sure to mouth to Looper, "I need to talk to you."

Looper nodded and knew his day would be one of a psychologist. "That would be a good idea," he replied very sternly.

If the Agent Detail wasn't enough, the Maryland State Police knew that the Carver children were rolling along U.S. Route 50, and had several cars posted along the travel route for an always apparent police awareness.

Looper made sure to linger at the junior high, while Chip told his brother to run along without him before the elder son walked to the high school section of this private school. Philly questioned the harsh behavior and got pushed by his older brother. Hardly compassionate or empathic to an older brother's problems, Philly pushed back.

Looper had to separate the two brothers. "That's a hell of a way to start a Monday morning, young man!" Looper scolded his favorite boy, but it didn't sound like it this time.

Chip took a deep breath. "Sorry, Philly. I know I'm an asshole today."

Philly caught the need to back off. "Hey, no sweat. See you guys."

This time Chip had tears in his eyes. "Looper, I'm in trouble," he flat out said and saw his friend's face turn soft. He knew withholding any of his clandestine activities would be seen through anyway.

The young agent didn't show anger or panic. He took the teen away from any listening ears until they were sitting beside a fountain at the office's entrance. While Chip talked, Looper listened. It never failed to amaze Wenzel how a teenager's problems are really mundane to the real problems on the world.

"I'll come up with something. Don't you worry about it, it's handled." Looper couldn't resist a quick grasp around the chest and a hug for his boy.

The affectionate squeeze wasn't exactly an agent's duty or calling, but there were times that Chip had to know someone cared.

Chip smiled for the first time in hours. "Thanks, Looper. I love you."

Looper had much more than a soft heart for this boy. The "I love you's" often came when Chip escaped from some difficulty or was given a gift by his mentor. It didn't matter, the words were music to anyone's ears.

The seriousness of such an infraction as hacking wouldn't fare well with the president. He didn't like family crisis; for a man who was supposed to be controlling a country, family matters made it appear that he had no control over what was under his own roof.

Then there was the matter of the State Board of Corrections calling the Secret Service about pictures sent to an inmate from the president's sons. Looper knew he'd have to address this with Chip. Another serious breach of protocol and violation of certain laws. For all practical purposes it was child pornography being sent through the U.S. mail service to an inmate. When the Director of Corrections was called back by Looper the man promised he would destroy the pictures. Naturally all mail was opened and no pornography of any kind was tolerated. In this case the pictures fringed on a serious crime.

"They were just nudes, right?" Looper asked and prayed the boy hadn't showed an erection or worse.

"That's correct, sir. The boy sent pictures of gradual undress until he was naked. He did have one on all-fours. That's rather erotic and borders on illegal. Do you think the inmate requested these pictures?"

Looper had to think on his feet to avoid complications. "Let's squash this quickly. As you are aware of, young Carver visited the prison recently. Yes, I dare say the pictures were requested, though I doubt if the man knew of the poses. You have my word it won't happen again."

The director agreed. Upon hanging up he humorously signed one of the photos of Chip sitting on his bed, fully dressed, as if the boy had signed the photo. This one he would give the inmate, as per request from the Secret Service agent. The other ones he kept to himself. A little private collection might be worth money someday.

As soon as the school bell rang it was always a race to see which Carver boy would reach the vehicle first. Chip made sure he jumped in before Philly was in sight. The teen was in better spirits and glanced around in the backseat of the Suburban. He hastened a kiss to the lips of Looper.

Agent Wenzel had a lot on his mind and was more surprised than usual. Needless to say it had been a hectic day in saving his boy's ass and his own reputation.

Chip whispered after his kiss, "I fucked my first girl over the weekend, and I had her twin brothers. A pussy is okay, but not like those asses." Chip's hand went to his mentor's crotch.

"Behave yourself, youngster." Looper scooted the boy sideways.

It was good that the teen was out of his slump, but much had to be discussed.

"Chipper, no more pictures to that inmate or any others. Got it?"

He received a nod without going into specifics. "Thank you for not sending porn. See, kiddo, men in prison can't have pictures like that sent to them. Don't ask why, it's just policy."

"Stupid policy," Chip said as expected.

"When you become president you can change the policy. Until then keep your camera off your body. Another thing, focus on your school work and leave the boys alone in the restroom. Someone said you were jacking off with another kid in the stall. And I better not get another report from Agent Waters that you're looking at another boy's paper during a test."

Chip frowned. "Do we have to have a female agent in my room? She's such a snoop, and the other boys think that she has the hots for me. Yuri and I do that all the time."

"I suppose I could put her on bathroom duty," Looper teased. "There are always going to be boys who are jealous or want to get you in trouble. Be more discreet."

"Forget it. If you could meet me in a stall we could.....ouch! Okay, I get the message."

"Here comes Philly. We'll talk about the other thing when we get back."

Chip winked, feeling more relieved now with Looper in his corner.

Rodney Wheeler, assigned with Looper for the day, walked over to Looper as he exited the Suburban.

"What was that all about? Boy have problems with a bully?"

Looper knew that anytime he was alone with Chip that other agents would question the motive. Talk about jealousy! Wheeler, especially, didn't care that Chip Carver always went to Looper for help or to confide in. It wasn't like the boy's father was available 24/7.

"That's next year when he has to put up with juniors and seniors," Looper said without explanation.

He did mosey over to speak to one agent he could trust, Stan Ewings.

"That boy is going to get us both fired," Stan said after the discussion.

They agreed on a plot that would diffuse the situation, but dealing with an ambassador's kid, especially Chinese, wasn't going to be easy. The discussion served another purpose, it inflamed Agent Wheeler that he was out of the loop.


















Chapter Eleven



The meeting between Prime Minister Fletcher and President Carver was more a social reunion that the meeting of the minds. Their agenda was a prelude to a three-way colloquy with the Russian president at the end of the month. As far as China went they both knew they were in complete agreement that this red giant was out of control. Russia had become like a recalcitrant stepchild complaining to their once arch enemies that they have been falsely accused of being a bully themselves. None of this was necessary to be brought up. Puton was a jerk and a power hungry demagogue. There hadn't been a country in the world that was exempt from China stealing their patents, copyrights, and corporate secrets. If China wasn't lying to you, they were thieving behind your back.

Moving into the Oval Office the agents quickly departed, knowing the close ties the men had with each other. They chatted about family, expected protocol, though each in their own way were interested in how families compared and the raising of teenagers always brought laughs.

Alain Carver stuttered for the right words, then approached a sensitive topic for himself.

"Andrew, have you ever discussed homosexuality with your sons? What are they now, both teenagers?"

"Seventeen & fifteen in two months. They've grown up so fast I can't say the subject has ever been brought up. As far as Richard goes, between ten and thirteen years of age, he did ask questions, mostly words, like what does wanker, bugger, or poof mean. It amazes me, my dear friend, how difficult it is to put simple definitions into less embarrassing words. Toby learns everything from an older brother. I found just being straight forward was more appreciated. Not to be nosey but has one of your boys been so inclined?"

President Carver wasn't about ready to draw suspicion on his own family. "Oh, no, it's not that. My eldest has a friend who I think is gay."

Andrew didn't believe that for a second. "Alain, my father liked to tell us boys that it is easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. A parent should also seek permission to impede in their child's sexuality. Advice sometimes comes from a misunderstanding, even ignorance. Richard appears to love women, while Toby doesn't have a lot of interest yet. The boy also idolizes your son, Chip. Who is to say he doesn't find him attractive? What hurts our boys is not the experience itself but the meaning of the experience. Our judgment, per se. Our Prince William had quite the adult-child sex with his uncle, but the man was still his favorite uncle. The prince is now married with children. Sometimes these experiences are just that, trials and tribulations."

"I see I'm way too much the politician. I envy your insight, dear friend. How'd you get so smart? One of those private boy schools you have in your countryside?"

Actually the president knew of the Prime Minister's schooling; it was just fun to tease.

Andrew chuckled. `Don't forget that Candice is a behavioral specialist. She has rubbed off on me. Our country was forced to examine this gay issue years ago and made the age of consent sixteen. Our prisons would be overflowing with horny men. Teenagers can't always find answers and companionship with their peers, so many enjoy an adult partner."

"America isn't ready for that logic," Alain confirmed.

"It's why we sent you all our puritans in the eighteenth century. It left us with Lord Byron and Oscar Wilde. People react to fear, not love. A premise we use frequently to justify killing of our enemies."

"I'll have to use more diplomacy when dealing with my children and their friends," the president decided.

"Don't judge them or they'll rebel. Love them no matter how much they vary from your expectations. You are president only to the American people, not your own children."

"I'm assuming the exceptions are the Russians and Chinese. They never meet my expectations and I can hardly see love in the near future."

That made the Prime Minister chuckle. They decided to resume conversation over lunch.

Agent Wenzel McElroy, with his fellow agent, Stan, combined their resources to solve a most complicated problem. With the World Series starting the following day, the Washington Nationals were only too happy to offer a press box for the president's children. As if on cue, Senator Addling sent over four tickets that evening, as well. With most citizens an easy scare tactic or an arrest dissolved unnecessary infringements. It was different with diplomats and their dependents, given diplomatic immunity. This complicated problem was cause of more creative aspects.

Lt. Zach Stringer was delighted to be invited to see the first game of the series against the Los Angeles Angels. The minor detour and role playing was part of the job. Pretending that Philly was his son was even cooler.

A block from the restaurant and ten minutes late, as planned, Chip was let out of the government vehicle and given a red mountain bike, bought especially for the occasion. Wearing a Washington Nationals' baseball cap and sunglasses, Chip saw Hsu Chung in an empty booth, but made sure he didn't appear too conspicuous in identifying a man he already knew a great deal about.

When he heard the snap of fingers, Chip spun and saw Chung wave him over. There were no handshakes or social greetings.

Chung said, "Well, you weren't lying, you are a punk kid. Wanna Coke?"

"A Pepsi," Chip said and watched Chung's rudeness in demanding another soft drink to this booth.

There was this Chinese grin was near repulsive. "You and I are going to have a beautiful relationship. See those two blacks over there? I want you to sit down beside one of them and exchange packages. Can you do that?"

"What's in it for me?" Chip asked.

Chung smiled. "Smart kid. A hundred, but do the job first."

"I don't trust ya. Pay me the hundred first."

Chung eyed the boy and slid a hundred dollar bill across the table. "If you run I'll catch your ass and beat the shit out of ya."

"You don't look that fast," Chip replied and moved right toward this booth with two black guys.

Chip watched a brown manila package come from inside the man's jacket. As he walked across the diner, there was a sense of relief that Lt. Stringer and his brother were eating French fries in another booth, while two other Secret Service agents were in another. Chip didn't slide in the booth as told. Both African America men eyed the boy with disdain, an intrusion that wasn't asked for. The package became the communication.

"Git yur ass in here, boy!" one of them spoke and made room.

An envelope was exchanged for the package. Just as smoothly the men both got up, paid for their food and left. Chips shrugged his shoulders, stood up and returned to Chung, handing over the envelope.

"Fuckin' easy, hey, dude?" Chung asked. "Where ya live?"

"Yeah, like I'm gonna to tell ya," Chip replied and held his best defiant look.

He could be brave; he was surrounded by men with guns and he had a mic attached underneath his balls.

"Have it your way, kid. I'll find out. How about your name? Can't exactly call you First Boy, can I? Must have brothers, but I'll find them, too."

"Mike," Chip responded. "I have four brothers, all older."

"Sure you do. Look, Mike, or whatever your name is, you just committed a felony, like, major time in juvenile hall where that virgin ass of yours will be used like a bumper car. Now you wouldn't want that, would ya?"

"No, sir," Chip tried to sound scared.

"Good. We're on the same page here. Next time we meet, you can make another hundred, real easy like. Ever been to the White House?"

Chip gulped, almost running for his own safety. "Never been there."

"I need someone to take a tour. You know, just walk around, take a few pictures. There's a couple of hundred in it for you."

"You mean, like, five hundred," Chip responded.

"Don't push your luck, kid. I said a couple hundred. We can talk big bucks later. That's your bike out there?"

"Yeah," Chip relied.

"Okay, we meet back here on Thursday. Got it?"

Chip nodded and followed the Chinese guy to the cash register. Chung pointed at the teenager next to him. "He's paying."

"Gee, thanks," Chip replied and paid the three dollar tab with his hundred dollar bill.

Chip had to follow the plan to a pick-up area. There was no doubt that Chung was going to follow him. The boy unlocked his bicycle, then spun this expensive machine down the sidewalk. To his rear he heard the roar of a sports car move out onto the street. Nonchalantly Chip didn't speed up but continued a steady pace up the street. It was at the first red light that a tan colored Toyota had stalled right in front of Chung's Porsche 911. Despite the honking of horns and cursing from the Chinese driver of the sports car, the Toyota's engine just wouldn't turn over. Finally the Porsche reversed and raced around the Toyota while a middle finger was thrust out the window as a thank you to the driver of the Toyota. The boy on the bike had completely disappeared.

Safe in the confines of a Secret Service vehicle, Chip couldn't wait to protest. "Okay, I thought you were going to arrest the creep."

Looper placed his hand on the teen's knee. "We were. We can assume what was in the package were drugs. Realize there were many extenuating circumstances that would be messy in a court of law, not forgetting that Chung would be out on bail. All he would get in the end was a ticket back to China, and that's if a prosecutor could make the charges stick. We're very interested in why he wanted you to tour the White House. You might have to play this role out."

Chip thought about it, knowing he wouldn't refuse Looper. "I suppose I could audition for Billy Elliot next."

The Carver boys preferred the seats behind the first base line instead of an executive box three stories up. Sitting with Looper and Zach, the boys wore Halloween masks of the president and vice-president. Given ESPN cameras credit, they eventually spotted the comical masks and made a humorous gesture to the millions of Americans watching the World Series: "Folks, we appear to have our president and vice-president at the game tonight." It was good for laughs.

A successful night by all accounts, Chip and Philly returned to the White House to another small party, thanks to their father.

President Carver hugged his eldest, softly whispering in the boy's ear, "I love you, son. Truce? I can do better."

Chip glanced up, his love for his father easily melted away any resentment. "Truce, Dad. I love you, too."

Being a school night, the proceedings were quick before the First Lady put her children to bed. Leave it to Chip to ask Looper to spend the night as the man walked him to his room. On the bed Looper brought the teen quickly to orgasm by masturbation and a hastily put mouth, their passionate kisses welcomed another year of maturity. There would be no reciprocity or sleepover for the agent, at least not on a school night.

Senator Addling could always be counted on to check in on the Carver teenager to assure that the boy enjoyed the game. It was also a way to invite him to his office. The senator, one of millions to watch television and see two kids in masks, was not too pleased that he saw an investigator with the Washington police force sitting next to the boys, using one of his tickets. Naturally he interrogated Chip on this matter.

Before Chip entered his classroom he asked Looper what the plan was to appease the senator. "We better be up front with this. Tell him he's my friend and I invited him. If the senator wants reimbursed for the ticket, I can arrange that."

"And the sex?" Chip asked with a grin.

"What's expected?"

"He sucks me off and sometimes wants me to go down on him. It's like my thumb, and then he smells like he's been wrestling with the members of the House all day."

Looper found it both pathetic and amusing. "In many ways, he has. Hold your breath. We can't afford having him as an enemy right now. Your mother has voided any baseball game tonight. She wants your school work done."

"Doesn't she know that the World Series is more important than school?"

"Cute kid. By the way, I'm not sure we can pull off tomorrow night. Any ideas?"

Chip thought about it. "Not yet, but I'm thinking."

By late afternoon the weather had assisted in more ways than one. The second game of the series had been cancelled until the following day. The senator was delayed in a committee meeting. The rainy afternoon kept the Carver children in their respective bedrooms, studying and planning who they wanted at their Christmas party. Chip put his request in: Ronin Parker, a singer from England.

Looper found his favorite boy in the library before dinner. He had procured tickets from a congressman for Thursday night's game. With luck, one more meeting with Chung might escape the scrutiny of his bosses.

"My father apologized," Chip confessed to Looper. "He's really going to be disappointed when I tell him I'm gay."

Looper saw the anxiety on the teen's face. Such a revelation from a child to a parent had to be excruciatingly painful.

"Look, pal, much of the disappointment with presidential sons and much of the controversy regarding their ambitions and, in this case, sexual orientation, can be laid at the feet of unrealistic expectations. Two things are unforgivable for the child of a president's success and failure. You are put, no part to your own doing, in a no-win situation. President Grant's son eventually worked his way to hold the second highest military ranking in the United States. When he was suggested a perfect candidate for secretary of state there was a huge outcry that he was named because his father had been president. It is called dysgradia, a syndrome where there is a complete lack of connection between doing and getting. Several presidential kids lose that motivation. Why strive to get something that will come anyway? You are expected to be an adult before you're even an adolescent."

"Screw that!" Chip agreed. "My report card could deserve a few perks."

"Hey, don't sweat it. Robert Todd Lincoln failed fifteen of his first sixteen entrance exams at Harvard. Ron Reagan attended the same school you are. They sort of made sure he passed, and he even made the cut at the Joffrey Ballet, but was still criticized for even aspiring to such a goal."

"Because he was gay?"

"Just because a kid likes ballet doesn't mean he's gay. Who cares?"

"My father."

Chip left little to question on that aspect.























Chapter Twelve


This time the assembly of agents arrived thirty minutes early at this restaurant designated by their Chinese target. Philly stayed in the car as Zach and three other officers dressed up as four rowdy Nationals' fans, wigs with pony tails, and floppy sports gear. Only thing missing were their Harley Davidsons.

Chip was already at a table when Chung arrived. He motioned the teenager to him where they immediately walked to the restroom. Inside, Chung checked the stalls, then lifted Chip's sweatshirt.

"If you had been wired I'd killed you right now." Hsu showed the boy the knife on his belt.

"Fuck you, too!" Chip said, trying to sound tough. He got slapped.

"Don't get smart with me, kid. In my business I don't take chances. Now here's a package. There's two white dudes coming in. The one with a scar on his cheek, that's who you do business with. Got it?"

"Yeah," Chip replied, still feeling the sting on his cheek and trying his best to hide his tears.

He felt Chung's hand rub the red skin with the back of his hand.

"Didn't mean to hit you so hard. You're fuckin' cryin', aren't you?"

"You're an asshole!" Chip said and turned his back.

Chung swung his arm around the boy's waist and stuffed a hundred in the boy's pocket. "Take it for what it's worth. Here's a hundred. Do your job."

Chip walked out. Tears had slowly welled up in his eyes that required a Kleenex, but he was tougher than that he told himself. He certainly didn't want Zach to see that he was a crybaby, so he quickly wiped his face with the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

Spotting two young guys who looked more like thugs, he waited till they were seated. He approached and was told to get lost.

"I have a package," Chip relayed.

The men who appeared to be in their twenties just looked at him. Chip brought it out and placed it on the table. The one with the scar quickly slid it under his leather jacket.

"What the fuck you waitin' on? Get the fuck out of here."

Chip waited, then walked away. Sitting down in a booth he hoped Chung had made other arrangements for any envelope. He watched the two guys with smirks on their faces begin to depart the restaurant without ordering.

At the entrance he saw Chung waiting for the two. Suddenly a gun came from behind Chung's back. Words of anger were exchanged before an envelope was reluctantly exchanged. The walk to where Chip was seated had one pissed off Chinaman staring at him.

"Assholes!" Chung said and didn't care who else heard his profanity. He stared at Chip. "See, kid, they see you as weak, like I'm going to let you come here by yourself. Fuck them! They're lucky I didn't put them both on ice. If you're going to work for me you're gonna have to grow some balls. Ya got any pubes yet?"

Chip gave him this sideway glance like he had to be kidding. He didn't answer.

"Okay, here's what we're going to do." He handed over a pen to the teenager. "This is a camera. I want you to take a tour of the White House. Stick with a couple of adults. Play it off that you're their kid. Got it?"

"Ah, I go to school."

"Give me a break, kid. You can skip school for a day. I'm paying you well for this, so don't screw it up."

Chip held out his hand. Despite the annoying stare he watched the man dish out three hundred dollar bills on his palm. When a waiter approached, Chung ordered a soft drink but Chip declined. Chung waited until his drink arrived, then pointed a finger at the teen.

"You ever fuck me, you're dead. Got it, kid?"

Chip nodded. The teenager followed the man toward the cash register. An adult Chip knew as an agent was arguing with the teller. Pretending to bump into Chung when he stopped, Chip attached a GPS chip inside the rear of Chung's jacket.

"Oops, sorry about that," Chip quickly apologized. "I'm outta here."

"Uh, wait up, kid!" Chung wanted to leave together but this delay had unnerved him. Finally he lost his patience with the teller and the customer. "What the fuck, man? Just pay the dude!"

Stan had hoped for this chance. "Who the fuck are you, Chinaman?! Can't you see I'm having a conversation here?"

Chung didn't like the size difference. He smacked down a five-dollar bill and prepared to leave in hopes of still following the kid.

"Where you going?" Stan persisted. "You got a flight to catch to Beijing?"

Chung didn't want a hassle. He had ten thousand dollars in an envelope that would have been interesting to explain to the police. All of a sudden he was surrounded by two of Stan's buddies.

"My bad. Didn't mean to ruffle your feathers, dude."

"So now I'm a dude, am I?" Stan said and saw that Chip was now well away on his bike. He also noticed that the teller had picked up the phone, possibly to call the police. Stan put a stop to this call by putting up his hand. "It's cool. This creep can go on his way. These fuckin' immigrants don't show any respect, that's all."

Chung moved out, glad to have avoided any more danger. He swore a blue streak when he saw no sign of the teenager. All he knew, he had three hundred dollars at stake. If the kid didn't come through he'd find that little punk if it took the rest of the year.

In his haste Chip turned left down a side street a block before he was supposed to. Ahead on K Street he saw a black Suburban going west. He made a left on K Street, figuring he'd missed the instructions. As with all the president's children, they each had two GPS units attached to them at all times. One was in their shoes, while the other had been surgically implanted under their armpit. When the teenager didn't arrive within those first five minutes after leaving the restaurant, the alarm set off a panic in a mile-square area.

The leading Secret Service vehicle noticed the boy's GPS was heading east, which wasn't in the plan. Instantly all three units converged near Delaware Avenue, abruptly stopping all traffic when they spotted Chip on the bike. Tires squealed and cars came to a screeching stop. In less than ten seconds they had the bike in back and a sixteen-year old in the backseat.

"Care to explain?" Looper asked without losing control.

"I made a wrong turn. I thought I saw your vehicle, but it wasn't government. Sorry."

Everyone blew a breath of relief and, for the moment, the world was balanced again. Looper saw the red mark on Chip's face and signs of tears. They had all heard the slap and threats, but held off until they were sure he was in imminent danger. Chip had been given a code word as an emergency, but Chip hadn't used it. Looper didn't care what the other two agents thought, he brought the boy to his arms and held him tight. If something ever happened to this boy he couldn't live with himself.

ESPN was quite aware that there were many dignitaries at the second game of this World Series. The Nationals had won the first game, 5-4, in a hitters' duel. Scanning the boxes or the rows behind the first or third base lines, familiar faces were often discovered. Once again two youth wearing masks were discovered. The vast number of officers and men in blue suits certainly gave away that these were likely the two president's sons having a little fun with the crowd, for whatever reason.

Senator Addling wasn't too pleased that his seats were occupied by men he didn't know. Another party, not that interested in American baseball, just happened to glance up while eating at his favorite Chinese restaurant. The kids in the mask were hardly amusing, but one of the men sitting next to them looked vaguely familiar. Chung tried his best to remember where he'd seen the man. Nothing seemed to come to mind. So many Americans resembled each other anyway.

If it hadn't been for a school holiday on Friday, Mrs. Carver wouldn't have allowed another late night at a baseball game. The game lasted into the fifteenth inning when the Angels scored three runs to win eventually by two.

With Chip's insistence Looper followed him to his room. The two made a beeline to the bathroom to shower. When Philly entered the shower stall he saw that Looper had his hips moving to a rhythm he well knew. Philly grabbed the weight scale from the corner, placed it on the floor, and stood on it while inserting himself into the adult of the group.

With the president just down the hallway, Looper believed discretion was the wisest move, despite Chip's assurance that his father never bothered him. The agent gave both boys a goodnight kiss and departed.

It was well after midnight when Chip climbed in bed. He decided to make this a two-orgasm night. Without even a knock or a fair warning his father came in with the worst of timing. Chip had his knees beside his head and didn't notice the intrusion until the hallway light shined upon his bed. With speed of an agile teenager he swung his legs down and tossed a sheet over his nakedness.

"Hey, Dad. It's late."

"You want me to come back?" President Carver asked, noticing the obvious.

"Nuh. Just cooling off from the shower."

With his open container of KY Jelly and two tissues by his side the explanation wasn't real accurate.

"I was in earlier, but I think you and Philly were showering. A few years ago I would've joined you, but I'm not too sure we can all fit now." The president chuckled.

Chip breathed a sigh of relief. "You're right, Dad, way too crowded with our packages."

President Carver laughed at his son's humor. "Mom says you've been invited over to Ambassador Pacheko's residence. You okay with that?"

"Sure, Dad. Why wouldn't I be?"

The president knew he was on a slippery slope. "Nothing. Yuri's a good boy. Very intelligent."

The two discussed the game and its thrilling ending. School, sport, and his siblings rounded out a father and son chat that was rare. Finally the president kissed his boy on the forehead, glad to take this moment to share thoughts. He began to stand up to head toward Philly's room, hoping to catch the boy before he fell asleep. Chip caught his dad's elbow.

"Thanks, Dad, for not embarrassing me, and all."

President Carver bent down to hug his naked son. "Chipper, it wasn't that long ago that I was a teenager. Those college years were tough too. It's what we're best at when we don't have someone around to love." He knew he'd said the right thing.
















Chapter Thirteen



POTUS felt invigorated when he awoke at six the following morning. It was rare that he slept in past five o'clock. He sensed a new connection with his sons, a father who could relate to their issues as teenagers.

Alain sat up to receive a cup of coffee from his wife. He had a morning chuckle with Mary when he recanted from the previous night how he wasn't going to disturb Philly if the boy was asleep, but as he rubbed the new tween's shoulder, Philly had sheepishly said, "Oh, hi, Looper. You can love me if you want." Alain said he had just let the boy doze back off into dreamland.

The husband and wife had a good laugh, but silently the First Lady had to wonder if it was just a dream. She had more on her plate than her husband for the day. With the next election barely a year away, she was more into the campaign swing than the president, but that would soon change.

"Have you ever had a talk with the boys about the birds and bees?" Mary asked, pretty much knowing the answer to that question.

Alain grinned without giving away what he knew. "Honey, I think the kids are beyond that. I read recently where seventy percent of teenagers get their information from social media. The Internet is far more explicit than our words."

"I can't imagine my babies watching porn on the Internet. I'd hoped we could keep our children out of the limelight. Our home here has at least given them a chance at a normal life without the pressures of dating or hanging out with kids we don't approve of."

President Carver gave his wife an affectionate hug, a kind of innocent gesture that this lovely woman was blind to her surroundings. Her children had grown up so fast that their sexuality wasn't even considered.

"My dear, there is nothing normal about this place or our great capitol. The amount of sex that's gone on in this place or over there in the capitol building where children have been conceived, mere boys and girls introduced to sex, and women no doubt raped by horny politicians, could fill a thousand page novel. It is for the history books to proclaim to future ears and eyes. Whether lives have been ruined or happily induced is for each person to decide. Certainly for one president's daughter, life was not been blessed through the years."

Mary was tempted to ask her husband if he included himself in this sexual history. To avoid any argument or insinuations that wouldn't be answered honestly she adjourned to her vanity table. The president followed in tease. In just her slip Mary slapped her husband's hands from her ass. She giggled with the attention, which was rare, and then moved to her walk-in closet to choose a sheer formal dress for her meeting with The Women of the Confederacy. Finally she let him enter her from the rear.

"Which daughter is this you weren't speaking of?"

Alain nibbled at Mary's neck and slowly brought himself to orgasm.

"President Warren Harding's affair with Nan Britton. They conceived on a couch in a senate office. Elizabeth Ann Harding Blaesing died a few years ago, but she never personally met her father. Harding arranged for Secret Service agents to hand deliver child support payments to the mother, but he refused to meet his daughter, even when the mother had the girl sitting on a park bench in Lafayette Square, easily seen from our second floor window. Would he come to the window to see his daughter? The guy refused."

Mary shook her head in disgust, felt the buildup in her vagina and came to orgasm herself. The rear entry had certainly stimulated her clitoris. Just that quick they were both satisfied, though the woman was always left to wipe herself clean.

"Well, our children's virginity is important to me, so we must do the best job we can to preserve their innocence," Mary said.

Alain helped zip up the back of his wife's dress, kissed her again on the neck and had to wonder why his wife thought their children were these angels.

"What if, my dear, that they don't want this so-called innocence? I mean, they're quite able to experience the pleasure we just had. Why keep them from that enjoyment?"

"Don't be silly. They're not old enough to make that decision."

Alain allowed his wife to groom herself but he wasn't going to let this drop. "What logic goes behind that decision? Do you think they stop and ask themselves that we might object? Do they question their sexuality? When is that magical age that fits your judgment?"

The president swung this gorgeous creation around in his arms so he could plant one on her lips. "Oh, how lovely you are, and yet so naive. Our children have already made these decisions and, by the faith we bestow, thank God for His gift of sexuality."

Before Mary demanded an explanation the president was out the door. He accepted a suitcoat from his navy valet, a coat that had just been laundered. President Carver didn't look forward to his meeting with his campaign manager. Running a great country like the United States was a full-time job. Why it was necessary to once again hit the campaign trail was truly a pain in the ass.

Elected by the conservative majority, Alain ran on popular issues with the Tea Party and the religious right. In three years he had matured as a man, husband, father, and as a president. He realized that representing what is right, over what is popular, may well be more ethical. Unfortunately the conservative wing didn't see the same logic.

Sitting at his desk in the Oval Office the president was brought three different newspapers to peruse. In walked Philly, usually the first of his children to rise. For some reason the kid required far less sleep and wasn't the worse for it. Dressed in gray, baggy shorts and a bright red Ohio State sweatshirt, a gift from Loopy, the boy seldom wore shoes inside. His shorts hung so low that two inches of his butt crack was exhibited for anyone wishing they were fourteen again. More than a few women in the White House thought he was so gorgeous they would have loved being fourteen again. Philly had a donut in his mouth and one in his hand.

"Here, Dad" he offered his father and placed the slightly indented pastry with a fourteen-year old's fingerprints crushed in its side on top of important papers. "Chip said you came into my room last night. I don't remember it."

Alain's lips turned into a chocolate grin. He used his index finger to wipe a chocolate smear from his paperwork dealing with an oil pipeline from North Dakota.

"You were pretty dozed off. I patted your shoulder and you said something like, `Hi, Looper, if you want to love me, climb on in. Must have been quite a dream.'"

"Nah! I didn't say that!" Philly replied, sure that he was being teased.

"Got a thing for your bodyguard, huh?" the president kept teasing.

"He doesn't have a gun like you do, Dad."

That really had his father laughing. "And you know this how?"

"An assumption. Don't you remember showering with Chip and I when we were younger? I was impressed. Good donuts, huh?"

"Excellent political move. Change the subject. You know how to please your father, boy. The ladies like our guns. How do you know what kind of gun Looper has?"

Philly hesitated and licked his fingers. "He's our bodyguard, Dad. If Chip and I can't trust him to wash our backs in the shower, who can we trust?"

Alain glanced at his boy's face expecting a laugh. He wasn't sure when his kids were pulling his leg anymore. "And have you had any girls in the shower with you lately?"

"I'm working on that part, Dad. Angela sure enjoyed it. I came, like, five seconds. Is that normal?"

Alain motioned for Philly to come around his desk. He reached around his son's waist and brought him on his lap.

"Just keep that between your old man and your associates. Got it? And, yes, perfectly normal. Takes a few times to hold off from the money shoot, if you understand the term. Start slow and build up. The more they get excited the harder you pump."

"A man's secret, right, Dad? I do that almost every time, but I reload quickly."

"A lot of times? You've had intercourse before?"

"A boy's secret, Pops. Don't push it. Chip says you have a lot of secrets."

The president's eyes sprang to shock. "He did, did he? That boy might be a spy. I'll have to keep an eye on him."

Alain kissed his son's cheek, patted him on the butt, and sent him off just as his secretary informed the president that his manager had arrived.

Tom Lipkin was young, vibrant, and full of political savvy. Alain trusted the man because his advice and agenda always proved right. In his first election they had carried the popular vote, all of the southern states, and even Ohio for a change. Two Secret Service agents stood by, pretending not to listen but what was for presidential ears only was often discussed between members of the Detail after hours. Just part of human nature.

His son's beautiful smile, let alone his words of honesty, still resonated in the president's mind. Yes, he had allowed his power and influence to undermine his devotion to his wife. Women said he had sex appeal, but what man with power didn't use sex to their advantage. A person was sexy only because people thought him to be so, and therefore that person's sexuality was, like all of the important aspects of life, a thing of the mind. Being a father had become far more important in the past few weeks than he had ever thought possible. For some reason, he was falling in love with his kids again, a feeling that was a given, but never truly exhibited. How his youngest could have had sex with more than one girl under his nose still escaped him.

Now he was expected to run for a second term. Being president had enormous risk. Alain knew he had enemies, people who would love to assassinate him. Was this all worth it? Should he even run for a second term? Human motivation is a thing of the mind, and fear of the unknown has never been the strongest emotion. Yes, he loved politics, the essence of power, and being president was like sticking your dick in a vagina with multiple orgasms. Alain knew he risked his life for love, for patriotism, for principle, and for God far more often than fear had made him run away.

At the moment the president's mind was multi-tasking. He heard, but didn't much care if he comprehended his campaign manager's schema. It was when the word gay resonated in his ear that he focused.

"Wait, wait, wait a second! You know I wanted to wait till my second term before I introduced that amendment to make marriage just between a man and a woman. Too many states have caved in and all these federal courts have grown weak. Only a Constitutional Amendment will save our country from extremists and reverse a Supreme Court ruling."

"Your supporters, Mr. President, were expecting action much sooner. The gay movement has gained way too much momentum."

"And that's my fault? Polls have showed that the majority of voters favor same-sex marriage and legal protection for homosexuals. To take a stand now would cost me a substantial amount of votes. It's best to avoid these pitfalls between abortion and gay rights. We can imply that something will be done after the election. The voters are wise enough to know why I have to do this."

The campaign manager was not pleased, but he knew better than to argue. Carver's problem since taking office was that he really didn't have a political philosophy per se. He believed in things that worked, that produced the promised results and fixed whatever appeared broken in his economic reform. Whether those things adhered to one political agenda or another was less important than the effects they had. His appointees to key positions had done their job, escalating job opportunities, lowering the unemployment rate, and keeping the cost of living steady and robust. There would always be trouble in keeping all factions happy. Washington's political circle was a morass of ideologies, and if the ideologies didn't work, people would ignore the obvious; and if the ones with which they disagreed with did work, those who'd been opposed would pretend they didn't exist because admitting error was more hateful to them than any form of personal misconduct. They'd sooner deny God than believe that prayer works.

"We can't allow the Democrats to make you look weak in your party, even when you have a Republican majority in both the house and senate. It's our turn to make laws and set a future for our country," Lipkin preached.

"Tom, I don't need lectured to. I well understand that the public expects us to get the job done. They certainly don't expect us to work harder on getting reelected than just doing our duty. Robert E. Lee once said that duty is the most sublime word in our language. I'm not going to cow tow to a minority of Bible thumpers because they think they're entitled. I represent the people of a democracy and there is no higher trust than that which fate had given me."

"And I can appreciate that, Mr. President. You haven't made significant mistakes but you must make promises to assure voters that you're not just using their vote."

Alain had pointed to the door to more than one lackey. This was getting that close.

"You know, Tom, I was in a much better mood before you arrived. Just give me my lecture circuit and I'll handle it. If you don't mind, I've got other pressing matters."

Lipkin apologized, admitting he only felt responsible for getting the man reelected. It wasn't his purpose to rile the most powerful man in the world.

Chip moved around the White House floors, saying hello to all the agents at every stop along the way. If he expected to see Looper he was surely to be disappointed. Holidays, even school holidays, were times this school detail had training or were given time off. That sucked. He needed to talk, especially about this White House tour he was supposed to go on. What in hell did this Chinese guy want to do with pictures of the White House?

As if totally bored, he moseyed into his older sister's bedroom, while she was polishing her nails. Chelsea was still dressed in her nightie, and, for a split second, almost yelled at her brother for invading her privacy. Just a mere remembrance of a night when they saw each other naked prevented her diatribe.

"So, what do you want, brother? Money? Advice? Boyfriend problems? Looper's not around to hold your hand?"

"He doesn't hold my hand," Chip said in annoyance.

"No, he holds your penis. Don't think I haven't noticed through the years how you two look at each other. It's like you constantly want to strip each other's clothes off and go at it. Just don't get the man in trouble, Chipper. I really like Looper. It's not his fault you're irresistible. I'm only saying that because I've seen you naked and you've seen me. Now, what do you want?"

"You're hilarious. Ever think of starting your own comedy show here at the White House?"

"Only if you show the audience that penis of yours. On second thought, you might scare them. And to think we all came from a weapon like that. Guess Mom got off on it."

Chip thumped down on his sister's bed, kicked off his slippers and rested back on his elbows. "How'd it feel losing your virginity, and all?"

"Not like I expected. No fireworks, the world didn't end, and I wasn't moved to heavenly delights. Makes one wonder what the big deal is all about. I should have done it years ago when I was in junior high and this cute boy wanted to screw me at a party. I fought him off. With my luck I'd been a thirteen-year old mother with baby in tow. Dad's opponents would have loved that. How about you?"

"I don't see why you girls think that hole of yours has some special appeal. A boy has more to play with."

Chelsea raised off her padded chair by her vanity table and began tickling her brother. Chip crunched up in surrender, laughing the whole time. Only his sister knew his ticklish spots. She put a strangle hold on one of his feet, grabbed her nail polish and went to making his toes a blushing pink. Chip tried to yank his foot loose, but had it tickled until he surrendered.

"Okay, okay! Pussies are the best!" His admittance didn't alleviate having his toes painted.

Having her brother at her mercy, Chelsea started on the other foot. "Alfredo called me. He's in love. His first fuck and he falls madly in love. You boys are so easy. He had the nerve to ask for phone sex so he could jack off."

"Do you love him?" Chip asked, reclined on his back and accepting the inevitable.

"Oh, pleeeese. I barely know the boy. All you guys think through your dick. One orgasm and you think you're in love because I furnished the love canal. And he thinks he actually did something. He entered, gave this contorted face and sank into my boobs. How romantic. How are you and Looper? Give me your hand."

"Hell, no! You're not doing my fingers, as well!"

He had his balls grabbed underneath his shorts as his sister's hand swept up and into his boxers. He relinquished his hand to gain release of the crushing presence.

"Looper? Why would you ask about him?"

"We're back to denial again, huh? Everyone knows he has the hots for you. Philly tells me everything."

"That squirt! I'm going to pulverize him. He does it too. He can't wait to take it up the ass."

"Yeah, I know. He admits it. Says it drives him all spastic. When he gets married he's going to buy a dildo for his wife." Chelsea laughed. "All you guys think of is the next orgasm."

Chip glanced down and saw ten pink toes. His fingernails were soon to be purple. "Is this part of your blackmail?"

"Your secret is safe with me. Who do you think bought me my morning-after pills? Looper's cool. I've often thought of what I'd do if one of the female agents hit on me. Would I do it? Yeah, probably. A lesbian relationship would be kind of cool. Angela was a good kisser. We had the hots for each other."

She swung around in her Indian cross-legged arrangement to face her brother more. "Your hands are so pretty for a boy's. I can see why Looper is in love with you. Does he allow you to fuck him?"

"I'm a stud, don't forget!"

"You're a bottom, brother. You're sweet, gentle, sensitive, and obnoxious to a degree, but you're a bottom. So you've never fucked him."

"I didn't say that. Yes, I've had my turn, I just prefer to be....."

"Dominated! I knew it. Shows you're in love."

"Yes, I love the brute. He loves me and I don't always show it back."

Chelsea arched up and kissed her brother on the nose. "You're young. Girls are more attune to always doing something romantic for the other person. A little present, a surprise bath, a word of appreciation--they turn your man on, believe me. Acting a little female won't hurt your chances either."

"That's hardly a compliment." Chip eyed the black pubes inside the sex of his sister beneath the nightie. To a gay boy, it was hardly a turn-on. "I think girls should shave. A big ole bush isn't pretty."

"And yours is?"

"I don't have hairy balls like Looper's."

Chelsea finished with her polishing, then grabbed her razor and cream. Chip tried to make a dash for it and had his shorts pulled off while squirming to get off the bed.

"We're trade. I'll only give you a trim. Come on, Chip," Chelsea pleaded.

"Okay, but only a trim. I have to shower at school don't forget."

The shaving cream squirted on as Chelsea held his penis and began to shave. It was far more than a trim and Chip began to protest.

"Hold still, or I might nick the wrong thing."

She felt the limb penis grow within her grasp, a way to keep him happy for a minute. The erection was tilted left, right, and back to gain access to the entire patch of black hair. Finally she checked his testicles and plucked two hairs to his discomfort. A quick glance between his legs and it was as hairless as a baby's bottom.

"I can see why Looper finds that tight," she humored.

With a quick wipe the cream was gone and Chip saw he had no pubic hair left. "But you said!"

"Tell your friends it's a new trend, and a girl did it to you. They'll be impressed."

She allowed full access to her sex and Chip wasn't about to leave a tinge of hair. It was his first examination up close of the female anatomy. He wasn't impressed. Chelsea wouldn't let Chip put back on his shorts. She dressed him in her cheerleading outfit, with pompoms. Putting stuffing in his bra, Chelsea had him pose, then snapped a picture with her cell phone.

"You're better looking than half our squad," she joked.

"My turn," Chip said and ran off to his own room stark naked. An agent in the hallway managed a wolf whistle. He came back with a cutoff T-shirt, a jock strap, and a basketball. Just as quickly Chelsea was nude, fitted with the jock, including a sock stuffed inside to resemble a rather sizable endowment. With an elastic bandage he strapped his sister's 36 boobs to her chest before the T-shirt went on. A basketball held under her forearm, another picture for the record. He examined his work.

"If you were a boy I'd be in ya."

"No, I would be in you." Chelsea walked over, grabbed her brother's crotch and went nose to nose. "If I was a boy, you'd be my bitch. I know where your weaknesses are."

They laughed together, certainly turning a boring morning into a creative one. A knock on the bedroom door had them both jump. Knowing that both their parents were busy, Chelsea opened it as she was. Looper glanced in to see Chip dressed in a cheerleading outfit, nails polished and with boobs. Chelsea's ass stuck out from the straps of the jock.

"Oops, wrong room. I was looking for Chip Carver. Anyone seen him?"

Chip jumped up and shoved the guy further in the room. "Looper, my main man! Don't you recognize your woman?" Chip teased as he melted into Looper's arms.

Looper backed away to play hard to get.

"Ah, okay, go ahead you two! My lips are sealed," Chelsea told them.

Looper held off Chip at arms' length. "Hold on!" Looper chuckled and kept this aggressive cheerleader at being too ambitious. "Are you two practicing for a play, or something? We have an appointment for a tour in a half hour. I need you to get ready."

"I am!" Chip said, but knew this costume wouldn't quite go with his short hair.

He flashed Looper his shaven groin. The agent pretended to be shocked at the demonstration and covered his eyes.

Chelsea moved over and patted Looper on the back. "Don't sweat it, my man, your secret is well kept. No more black hairs stuck in your teeth."

Looper glanced at Chip with almost an accusatory frown. He was stuck for words and Chip gave back that "not me" look.

"My sister is too smart for her own good," Chip stated as an excuse.

Looper knew of the possibilities and the dangers of his involvement with the Carver brothers. His only option was total transparency, at least to an intelligent teenager.

"Are you upset with me then?" he asked Chelsea.

"You bumped your head, Looper. I love my brothers and just happen to know you're the best thing that's ever happened to them. What my parents don't know won't hurt them. It's not like our father is sitting on the right hand of God."

Looper kept his relief hidden. He also knew that adolescents were fickle. They could love you with exuberance one minute, then despise you for being intrusive the next. With a shake of his head at Chip, he heaved the teen up and over his shoulder, leaving Chelsea guessing to what those two were up to.

On his way out Chip snagged his sister's nail polish remover. He allowed Looper to carry him back to his own room, where he was fitted in loose clothes, made to look somewhat chubby, and then was given Harry Potter glasses with a hat. He would pass inspection to the average tourist.

"Care to tell me what that was all about?" Looper asked very reluctantly.

"You're the hottest man in the world, and I'm in love with you. Apparently it's written on my face, as it is yours. Don't worry, my sister is the coolest girl in the world, as well."

"So she knows everything." It was said rhetorically.

"I told her you were a great bottom," Chip said tongue in cheek.

At least the agent laughed.

Looper selected a mother of three from the secretarial pool for Chip's escort. Ethel Bertrand was a no nonsense woman. She ran a strict household and often reminded her children of her expectations for behavior and scholastics. Her personal opinion of one Chip Carver was that the boy was the new White House terror, having followed in the footsteps of prior terrors: Tad Lincoln and the Roosevelt boys. Only lately had she seen a maturity from the boy that was tolerable.

Chip had left the White House undercover and met the woman at the Treasury Department, where they walked to the gates of the White House in preparation for the daily tour. Security was well aware of the format. Ethel let Chip know right up front that she wasn't intimidated by the boy's importance.

"Stick close to me and don't wander off. Why are your fingernails painted purple? Are you turning into one of those Goth kids?"

"Yes, ma'am. I mean, no, ma'am," Chip replied. He glanced at his nails and realized he'd done a half-ass job. "School project."

"You may call me Mom, but only for today. I have to really question today's educational system."

Chip was glad she smiled. "Okay, Mom. Want to see my toenails?"

Always a long line, Security made sure the pair were one of the first to make it in for the one-hour tour. There were only five rooms on the state floor open to the public: the State Dining Room, the Red Room, the Blue Room, the Green Room, and the East Room. On the ground floor, two rooms: the Vermeil Room and the Library were also part of the tour.

Chip would've loved to have escorted these tourists to see the swimming pool where his brother and youngest sister were probably skinny dipping. If Chip thought the tour of the lower floor was going to be mundane he was very mistaken. From second one he had his video pen turned on, recording every step of the tour.

Their guide was hired by the White House specifically to give information, while security made sure no one deviated. Chip was surprised at how much this lady knew and he didn't. His ears were immune to descriptions of portraits, like George Washington's, rescued by Dolly Madison from torch-bearing soldiers during the War of 1812. But this tour guide had everyone's attention when she started to talk about the early years of the White House and how, during the John Quincy Adams' presidency, the first lady had invited in three of her cousins. One of the boys became involved with a chambermaid, while the other boy found trouble in school for licentiousness, while the third, a girl, played around with any boy she came in contact with.

The crowd chuckled, loving any risqué history of this enormous house. Chip knew he'd have to check on these stories more. The guide mentioned that Calvin Coolidge, Jr., died at age sixteen from a blood blister after a rigorous day of tennis on the South Lawn. Chip was stunned by this news. Then some goofy girl asked the guide if the president's kids were home. If she only knew, Chip thought.

"I'm not really sure, young lady. Probably in school perhaps," she replied.

"Like you should be," Chip mouthed softly and was elbowed by his surrogate mother.

"Behave yourself," Ethel whispered.

Whether the guide knew that Chip Carver was present, she went for the jocular talking about presidential kids.

"Much of the disappointment with presidential sons, regarding their apparent underachievement, makes up a great deal of history of the White House. We think of the president and the first lady, but so many of our first families have had heartbreak and unrealistic expectations regarding their children."

"Got that right," Chip mumbled and moved slightly away to avoid another elbow.

She rambled on, like this was a lecture for Chip's ears alone. "There were very loyal sons, like Martin Van Buren, Jr. A devoted son, he spent most all of his life assisting his father and helping his brothers with the cumbersome work of preparing their father's presidential papers. The president's son died in his arms from tuberculosis, a bachelor and as close to a father as a boy could be. Though there are so many father and son bonds, Abe Lincoln and his son Tad were inseparable. The boy used to fall asleep in the Oval Office, while his famous father discussed war strategy with his generals."

Chip pondered this and figured the CIA would have him investigated if he did that. His father-son story would certainly perk up everyone's ear. How many fathers walk in on their sons while they're giving self-fellatio to themselves? Best thing, his dad didn't sweat it.

Entering the East Room, the guide brought up stories Chip really listened to. "The White House has had their little rascals. This room was a common play area for Quentin Roosevelt and his White House Gang." She allowed the laughter to settle. "Yes, the boy played pirates and water pistols in this room until the chief usher declared it off-limits. They often played "chase the president" with Teddy Roosevelt nearly every afternoon. That boy used to throw snowballs at passersby's, once being chased down the street by a policeman until the boy ran into the British Embassy. Young Quentin shouted back at the officer, `This is English ground! You cannot come here!' The boy's best friend was the son of the secretary of war, Charlie "Taffy" Taft. They both could charm any wary adult. Their reputation for terrorizing the White House and pushing the envelope at every turn is almost unparalleled. Even President Carver's sons have a hard time raising to this level."

The guide thought she was comedian but Chip wasn't amused. He wanted to protest, to exclaim innocence. She had to know he was present. He dropped back as if showing no more interest in this moronic tour. Close to him were a brother and sister, twelve or so, and they smiled at this boy who seemed friendly enough. Being close to the door that led to the swimming pool, Chip waved his arm to the two youngsters. They weren't sure what this teenager was up to but they followed Chip behind the group. When Chip opened the door there was Philly and Michelle naked to the skin in the White House pool. They waved. To two bright-eyed brother and sister from Iowa this was the best part of coming to the White House. Leave it to Philly to spring from the pool and jog over to where his brother had these two strangers. Both kids never took their eyes off of Philly's penis swinging back and forth.

"Who are your friends, bro?" Philly asked.

"I don't know. I thought I'd give them a better tour than that crazed woman out there," Chip responded.

The two Iowa youth giggled and realized they were in the midst of the Carver children. Michelle strolled up as comfortable in her skin as her brothers. She shook hands with the brother and sister and asked if they wanted to go swimming. Outside the door there were sounds of a mother calling for her kids. Chaos was but a second away.

Chip quickly escorted the two kids back into the hallway as if they had gotten lost. Dare say the two youngsters were a second away from joining the president's children in the pool.

A Secret Service agent came in behind and coughed. "Chip, I believe you've taken a detour. A set of parents are in search of their children."

"Oh, yeah, okay. Just thought I'd give a more complete tour. The other one was kinda boring."

"We kinda got lost," the twelve-year old boy told the agent. "Chip found us, so it's okay."

The agent knew the kid was lying through his teeth, but nodded. Chip and the boy winked at each other. What they had just seen was something they could tell their friends about. To the rear of this large group the three kids quickly caught up. The two youngest were scolded for not keeping up.

Chip followed them into the Dining Room, which can accommodate up to 140 guests for dinner. Ethel Bertrand was not amused and almost snagged the boy's ear to keep him in line. Across the room the guide swept her arms, as if it was a museum.

"I mentioned Martin Van Buren, Jr. Well it was here in 1838 when Dolly Madison brought a young lady for dinner with the president and his sons. She also brought her sister, so there was a daughter to match each of the resident Van Buren sons, but Martin, Jr., was too shy to have an interest in any ladies. He fled the White House and disappeared."

"He was gay," Chip blurted out before he caught himself.

The comment caused quick laughter and almost everyone's head turned toward the one who said it. One lady in particular there with her husband stared hard and long.

"It's him, one of the president's boys!"

The words perked up the tourists, and before Chip could find a defense the lady had moved toward him and raised his Nationals' baseball cap and removed the Harry Potter glasses. Ethel was beside herself and wanted to exclaim that the boy was hers. Too late.

"," Chip said, but several agents came out of the woodwork, as if touching a child of the president was violating a cardinal rule.

The lady, realizing what she'd done and its consequent reaction, apologized immensely meaning no harm. One tour guide, as if taking cue, brought the turmoil under control.

"Chip! Chip Carver, come on up here!"

The room took on an electrified charge. This was almost as good as meeting the president or first lady. Chip walked to the front of the group, took off his glasses again, but not before saying, "Hi, I'm Harry Potter." He got his laughs.

"Yes, everyone, this is the president's eldest son. Occasionally his children roam the White House," the guide added.

No one much paid attention to the guide; they were too busy gathering around the First Boy.

"What are you doing out of school, young man?" Someone asked.

"School holiday," Chip admitted. "Just wanted to see my home from another point of view."

The tourists appreciated the boy's honesty, or what they perceived. Questions began from kids and adults. One of them wanted to know where his siblings were, and Chip shrugged his shoulders. Then the Iowan boy shouted out, "They're in the swimming pool, skinny dipping."

Laughter again, but no one was quite sure if the boy knew more than they did.

"Probably where I should be," Chip responded.

"Does your mother allow you children to, as you say, skinny dip?" a woman asked.

"It's our pool. Why wear a suit. No big deal," Chip said.

"Yeah, but with your sister?" that Iowan girl asked.

Oh shit! Chip thought. His dad was a staunch Republican and sister and brother nudity would seem like incest.

"Now you know a Carver kids' secret. We only have the utmost respect for each other. It's why we get along."

There was an applause that built. Apparently he had said the right thing.

"Do you see your father much," another woman asked.

Chip didn't have to think hard on that one. "When I make an official appointment through White House staff."

The guide tried to prevent this from being a press room. "Know any stories from your parents about your home?" she asked knowing this would perk up interest.

Chip pondered the question. "Sure. Looper, he's one of my bodyguards, told me about Tad Lincoln. The boy had discovered the central controls of the elaborate communications system. A series of cables and pulleys allowed bells to be rung to summon various servants and staff. He made all the bells break into a pealing clamor, sending staffers tumbling into the hallways to deal with the unprecedented emergency. It was only Tad."

Chip enjoyed seeing the smiles and laughter.

"Do you get along with your brother? I mean, to you talk about girls a lot?" an adolescent girl asked.

"Yes, he's like Willie was to Tad. Philly is more logical than I am. Tad once smashed a new ball into a giant mirror and said, `It's broke, I don't believe Pa will care.' But Willie was more logical, `It's not Pa's looking glass,' he said. `It belonged to the United States government.' I can always depend on Philly to keep an eye on me, like I keep an eye on him."

Chip felt really good giving his brother credit, but Philly was always the well behaved son.

The Secret Service didn't like surprises. Completely disrupting procedure, Looper wasn't at all pleased with the revelation. Chip became a charming host, presenting a side to him that Looper hadn't seen. Chip even explained to the group, with amazing empathy, that the Green Room was where Willie's body had been embalmed, and Mrs. Lincoln refused ever again to enter this guest room where her son had died. The group was hushed to reality.

In the hallway, Chip's recounting of his favorite presidential boy, Tad, continued. "Tad and his friends hitched two goats to a dining room chair and drove it down this hall where the first lady was giving a tour of the White House to distinguished guests from Boston. The prank didn't go over very well when everyone had to scatter."

A man spoke up, "Did the boy die in the White House, too?"

"No, he didn't. I think he died of tuberculosis at eighteen years of age. I know after his father was assassinated that Tad, only twelve, I think, said, "Well, I will try and be a good boy, and will hope to go some day to Pa and brother Willie, in heaven.' It's sad he died so soon."

Chip's words had far more of an effect on the group than any tour guide they might have had. With permission and close scrutiny from agents, almost every person shook the boy's hand and thanked him for being there.

One investment banker from Indiana was only humoring the boy with his question. "A Republican like your daddy?"

Chip grinned. No one had ever asked him what his opinions were.

"My father and I differ on several matters. I think Martin Van Buren, Junior and I would have been good friends."

It wasn't the banker who took a mental note but a professor from Georgetown, there with his relatives, who had a friend who worked for the New York Times. As the tours dispersed, Looper both smiled and grimaced at this setback. They quickly decided to use the video they did have, and then let another person resume where the commotion had started to record the rest of the tour later on.

The twelve-year old from Iowa had deliberately stayed back to talk to Chip.

"Thanks for showing us the pool and your brother and sister. That was so awesome. My sister is, like, in awe of your brother's you-know-what. I think your sister has a really cool body, as well. Maybe if our parents come to Washington, D.C., again, we can swim in your pool."

"No problem," Chip said and wouldn't have a problem with it himself.



















Chapter Fourteen


Over the weekend Looper invited Zach to the White House to watch the third World Series game out of Anaheim, California. The 84" screen practically put the game in their lap. Afterwards they went bowling, Zach and Philly against Chip and Looper. No one broke 160.

The article might have been on the third page in the Sunday section of the New York Times, but for a family that had worked hard on keeping their children away from the press it was a shocker: President Carver's Son's Gay Tour Guide. Written as humorous as an article can be without it making the National Inquirer, it heavily weighed in the gray area when one deals with minors, especially the president's children.

The facts were presented how Chip Carver, 16-years old, had worn Harry Potter glasses in hopes of fooling the White House staff on a tour. A guide's comment about a previous presidential son, Martin Van Buren, Jr., being shy around girls and an eventual bachelor had the Carver teenager blurt out that the boy must have been gay. A question from a tourist on whether the boy shared his father's stance on gay rights, the Carver teenager simply said that Martin and he might have been great friends. Much can be read between the lines. The White House should have the Carver children be host for such tours more often.

Before the Carver family had stirred from the warmth of their beds, e-mails had flooded the White House, let alone a barrage of calls to the White House line. The favorable responses outnumbered the haters, but Alain Carver hit the roof. Even before getting his son out of bed, he had the Secret Service supervisor for that day on the carpet in front of his desk. How could their own Detail not know that his son was part of that group?! The supervisor had few answers, only embarrassed and uninformed of this violation of protocol. Heads would roll on this one!

Mary Carver was the second target for the president's venting. What was their son doing, trying to ruin his father's political career? Alain was beside himself. He paced the master bedroom while the first lady tried to calm her husband down.

"Dear, you know your son. He said it off the cuff, hardly aware that anyone was there taking a mental note of what he'd said. You have given your children enough respect that they might actually disagree with you on several platforms."

"Give me a break, Mary! What do my children know about platforms or policies, or anything for that matter?! The boy only knows that his dick goes up and down. Why can't he just keep his mouth shut?!"

"You're being nonsensical and silly. We can't expect that our children stay in the corner to be seen but not heard. He takes after his father, he speaks his mind."

"That boy better get a head on his shoulders damn quick or he's going to find himself at a military school. I've just about had it with his brashness at my expense."

Mary turned and wouldn't hear another word. Damn if she was going to allow any of her children out of her sight. She stormed into the bath area to make sure Alain didn't get the shower first for a change.

A given, Philly was up before any of his siblings. He patrolled the hallways in his pajamas to get first dibs on breakfast. Two agents suggested he stay away from his father; the man was on a rampage. He saw his mother and made a beeline toward her.

"Church this morning, Mom?"

"Lightning would certainly strike your father in the pew," Mary told her son, not expecting him to understand.

"Chip or the Russians?" Philly asked and meant it.

"You heard already?"

"No, just a good guess. Puton has nothing on my brother."

Mary saw one of the security men heading for her son's bedroom. The first lady stopped the agent from his assignment.

"I'm heading that way, Wayne. I suppose his father wants to see him."

The man nodded.

The first lady had no intention of invoking a father and son fight on a frivolous article. She walked in on a son who was only in his underwear, playing his PSP on his bed.

"I want you to stay hidden this morning," his mother said. "Your father thinks you're a member of the Taliban. I suggest the library."

Though Chip didn't show panic, his first thought was that his father had found out about the Chinese guy.

"Gee, thanks. What'd I do now?"

Mary explained the details, a mere faux pas in the political arena of first families' child invoking his own conscience.

"If you don't mind me asking, sweetie, what exactly did you mean?"

Chip twirled around, his legs dangled over the side of his bed. Philly strolled in like it was his prerogative to come in whenever he wanted. The younger brother sat down on the bed, stared at Chip, then his mom, then at his brother, back at his mom.

"I'm gay, Mom." Chip's head never lifted.

He stared at the PSP as if this had become the hardest words he'd ever said. All the bravado, the self-confidence, the gay pride had failed him when the crucial time had finally arrived. He started to cry. Mary's facial contours didn't flinch. She put her arm around her son, noticed the tears well up in her boy's eyes and never felt closer to her eldest.

"I appreciate your courage, sweetie. Mothers, even first ladies, know everything about their children. Doesn't mean a thing but that I love a gay son instead of a straight one. I'll have to decide when and how we break this to your father. If he panics, I might have to kill him. If this was England we'd have a gay president." The boys laughed.

"Dad would be the first president assassinated by his wife," Philly said, as if this bit of trivial would make the Guinness Book of World Records.

"I didn't really mean that, boys."

"Gee, Mom, it's not like we're going to tell on you. We're not on an airplane or anything," Philly said and had his mother and Chip laughing.

"So you've known this all along?" she asked her youngest boy.

"D'oh! Chip and me are like twins. I mean I'm not gay, but we know everything about each other. I think it's cool he likes boys. All those girls who scream when we're around can focus on me."

When his son hadn't showed, the president called the White House Manager to his office. The manager, having survived the past three presidents, well knew of the circumstances. He was also not one to hide the truth from his boss.

"Mr. President, the first lady procured her children to hide your eldest."

Even the president found humor in this attempt by his wife. "We do have cameras, Stuart. A visit to the Com Room should flush out my boy. Sometimes I think the Democrats do the same thing."

"Yes, Mr. President, that is usually the case, but the kids had hockey sticks and managed to block the view of the hall cameras. They were quite ingenious."

"Ah, yes, the old hockey stick caper. Well, the boy has to surface some time, doesn't he. I don't want you to sneak the boy food, got it?"

The president knew he wasn't going to win this round with his wife and children. Already his temper had subsided and possibly he had over-reacted.

Agent McElroy wasn't used to being riled out of bed on a Sunday morning. His supervisor made it perfect clear that he wasn't the least happy with being tied and quartered by the president. Looper often was seen as the babysitter, the man responsible for keeping track of the children, even when he wasn't around. In this case, he was. Looper had his back against the wall, wondering if he should come clean and reveal the clandestine events of the previous weeks. It would likely mean his job. Sweat commenced on Looper's forehead while his supervisor waited for an explanation.

"School project," Looper blurted out. The words had worked before and who was to question a teacher. "You know, from a tourist standpoint, how does one perceive living in the confines of so much history. It was purely accidental that someone ID'd the boy. There was never any danger, I assure you."

"Can you come in today and tell the president this?" The request wasn't really a question but an expectation.

Looper conceded. Though he had Zach in bed next to him, the two could enjoy another World Series game in front of the big screen. Though he rarely called Chip on his cell phone, afraid of tracking, this was a minor emergency.

Chip only received call from a few boys like Yuri. He kept pictures of his family and Looper; otherwise, the phone acted as an adolescent must-have to keep up with his peers. Thinking it was his father he almost didn't reach in his pocket. Upon seeing that it was Looper he answered quickly. Yes, of course, school project. It was a long shot that his father or mother would ever contact the school.

While concessions went on behind the scenes, the president found himself in negotiations with his seventeen-year old daughter. Mrs. Carver had sent daddy's girl to the Oval Office to make sense to the "mentally challenged" patriarch of the family--(mother's words). Chelsea and her father formulated a plan. Consequently, a new and attractive female agent chosen by the president and accompanied by Chelsea, knocked, then entered the White House library.

Chip was busy reading a comic book in front of racks of some of the most historic books in American history. Chip didn't look up.

"Good morning, Chip. I'm Brooke Breckenridge."

"Sounds like a retirement community in Massachusetts. If my father sent you, forget it."

"Actually I'm here as a representative of the family. We need to come to a compromise. Do you remember the first rule your father has expected from you children."

"I'm not a child. First rule, huh? Always use protection."

Chelsea thought it was funny. She well knew that this lady was in for the time of her life. She'd likely regret being chosen.

"Okay, let's get serious. Try again."

"Protect the family."

"See, that wasn't too difficult."

"Don't patronize me. I only said that cause I thought you were going to cry. I know Looper and he won't be happy that my father picked a woman. It figures my father would send some young chick to try to impress me. That man never gives up."

"Yes, well, he's calmed down and ready to look at both sides. Looper is on his way here."

"Good. I'll go stay with him." Chip finally looked up from his comic book. "He's going to be really pissed that you're in here."

"Then we need to dilute this controversy before he gets here. A solution has been thought of to protect the family from an onslaught by the conservative right."

"That's an oxymoron, if I've ever heard of one. You mean, radical right. It's their way or the highway. The only thing conservative about my father is his underwear, white and bland. Some kids are gay; get over it."

"Let's not discuss politics, sexual orientation, or your father's underwear right now. We'd like you to explain your comment, taken out of context, naturally, that you meant you were comparing your shyness around girls like President Van Buren's son. Can we agree on that part?"

Chip thought about this for a second. "Nope! That's not what I meant."

Agent Breckenridge kept her frustration hidden. In ways she admired Agent McElroy's patience with this boy. Personally she'd like to whip this kid a good one.

"Can you put yourself in your father's shoes, Chip?"

Chip took life. "Sure! I'd promote equality for everyone, especially gays. I'd make bullying a crime and I'd give all the rights that straight couples have to gays, as well. How am I doing?"

Over in the corner of the room Chelsea was having a great time with this. Even Brooke had to smile at that logic. She was aware of how difficult it must be being a presidential child, let alone being kept in a zoo of power and control, all under the direction of a father who was loved by millions and hated by just as many. The agent tried another approach.

"Most kids can rationalize their parents' power and success by choosing a different field of endeavor. They can tell themselves that they are pursuing a more noble or relevant position. They can choose sports, education, or even a sexual orientation and say that they are doing something less egocentric and more beneficial for society. Sadly, in the case of a president's child that option is not open. Society reflects right back on your father what you children decide. To conflict with your father's ideals is to present a faction in the principals your father represents. Can you understand this?"

"Really? Are you that stupid? No one chooses to be gay. And let me get this right. You're implying that, say, I'm gay, and my father stands against gays because he thinks God doesn't like gays. I should then kiss my father's ass to support his warp views and those Bible thumpers who think he fucks only my mother in the missionary position. You can kiss my ass!"

"I see we're not getting anywhere. Chip, do you like girls?"

Chip eyed the woman face to face. He eyed his sister while jerking his thumb toward the agent. "Brooke, do you like boys?"

"I don't see what sexual attraction has anything to do with this."

"Exactly! I'm not going to be interrogated by a woman without a gun. Give me a guy with a long gun and I'll talk."

Chelsea coughed, giggled and had no qualms to intercede on the agent's behalf. Chip closed his comic book. Learning about Calvin Coolidge's son had affected him deeply. He'd even taken the time to examine this tragedy to get a full perspective. The loss of so many children who had lived within this space he called home brought a reality of human frailty to a sixteen-year old's mind.

"What are you reading, brother?" Chelsea asked.

"Sis, did you know that after President Coolidge lost his son, an acquaintance had also lost his son. The president said that by the grace of God, their sons have the privilege of being boys throughout eternity. I'd rather be a part of that eternity than lie to my parents or anyone else about how I feel or think. I owe it to Willie, Tad, Martin, and Calvin Junior to be myself. President Coolidge said upon losing his son that the glory of the presidency was gone forever. Would my father rather have me or his Oval Office?"

The agent stood up. She had been defeated by a teenager. Not even her masters in counseling could save her.

"Your father doesn't need your retraction. We all hope that the love for your father will be enough to protect his aspirations for his family and your future." She left it at that, not sure if it was the truth.

"What the fuck does that mean?" Chip asked rather confused.

He watched the behind of the lady depart, then shrugged his shoulders to his sister.

Chelsea moved to where your brother was sitting. "Don't you dare hurt yourself," Chelsea said holding her brother. She was nearly crying.

"Not even on the menu, sis. I owe to all the boys who have ever lived here to be horny to the end. You can bet your next period that many a teenager has whacked their rods before I got here and they deserve my devotion to their moans and ultimate orgasms. I think the smell of their sperm still permeates my bedroom."

"That's so poetic I think I feel ill," Chelsea replied with a smile.















Chapter Fifteen



It wasn't as if the president didn't have a news conference already planned for Monday morning on the latest accusations against the National Security Agency and their methods of invading the private lives of U.S. citizens. President Carver and his press secretary were well prepared for a question that may directly involve one of his children. So prepared as to direct a reporter they often fed prior questions to what they wanted asked.

The president walked into the press room, stood behind the podium, and looked down at his notes. Of all the worldly and domestic problems, his son was the foremost, but he couldn't tell these reporters that. The room was small and shabbier than most parts of the building, built atop the former swimming pool. Every seat in the eight rows were filled. Each question was asked and answered after the main topic of national security was hashed and rehashed.

Usually bright and cheerful the president was in no mood to feel like a lone Christian in a coliseum full of lions. He waited and welcomed the question about his son.

"Mr. President, in a recent New York Times' article, your son apparently conveyed that not only President Van Buren's son was gay, but that he might be, as well. Can you elaborate?"

No one else smiled but the president, and his smile was fake. "That's not at all what was said. My son is shy around girls, as many teenagers are. President Van Buren's son had an experience of shyness, and my son compared his aloofness to that of a previous presidential son."

Alain relaxed, feeling he'd said what he needed to do to protect his bases. A follow up question wasn't welcomed.

"Mr. President, your son actually said that Martin Van Buren Junior and he would have likely been great friends."

President Carver gave a disgruntled look. "Again, it was this comparison that the boys may well have the same characteristics. What that has to do with anyone's sexual orientation is beyond me. My son and I have a great relationship. Trust me, if my son has secrets I'd know before his mother. The boy is lady killer like his father."

The president smiled and had the laughs he wanted. Another hand shot up.

"Yes, Mr. President, but the Van Buren boy turned out to be a bachelor. Always suspicious."

It made the press room break up in nervous laughter.

Leave it to a woman reporter to bring up something from right field. "Mr. President, your son recently had a birthday party with an invitation to the Masquez Sounds, one very pretty girl and her brothers. I understand they had a sleepover."

Alain held his temper. "Your point is what, ma'am? Actually, all my children were at the sleepover. Your implication is out of place and character. I can assure you that my son is not a loner or aberrant to the company of both sexes. When we have more pressing matters, let's not psychoanalyze a sixteen-year old until he decides to run against his father. At that point I'll be the first to find out who he sleeps with. Hormones are not my specialty, but, come on ladies and gentlemen, he's only a teenager."

The humor helped, but a reporter had to go for the jocular and the inevitable.

"Mr. President, what if one of your children did come out as gay. What would be your reaction, considering your hard stance against gay marriage and gay rights?"

Tempted to walk out in disgust, President Carver held his ground.

"As a parent, I love my children unconditionally. I would find the resolve to help my child through this difficult time, to understand why they believe what they do and what its implications for one's life are. Thanks for coming. If you will excuse me, I have a lot of work to do today."

He picked up his opening statement and moved off to his right in front of his press secretary. A woman stood up quickly from the back row. She raised her arm to make a point.

"President Carver! What implications?! What does beliefs have to do with feelings?!" Naturally her words fell on deaf ears.

Agent Wenzel McElroy knew he had escaped a catastrophe when the first lady had picked her battle and it was in support of her son. He had no intention of taking sides. So far the president didn't care one way or another whether it was a school project or his son exhibiting one of many weekly mischievous behaviors. The debacle centered around the teen's words, not his actions; yet the mere implication of being gay had potential downfalls. Soon the president might ask Looper what he knew or even to intervene and talk the boy out of such nonsense.

One thing Looper was was proactive. After his short visit to the White House, where he found the environment too hot to even stick around for the game, he and Zach went to the FBI building and ran down their suspicions of one Hsu Chung, an ambassador's son, high profile playboy, and a live target for the DEA. The FBI agreed to stay a low profile, allowing the Secret Service and the lone Washington, D.C. police investigator to work undercover. A risky maneuver and one no one would admit agreeing to if shit hit the fan. A limited strategy of assistance was planned.

There was a consensus that the New York Times' article had vast consequences. Networks, magazines, and social media had thousands of dated photos of the president's children. Though news agencies knew better to hassle or impede on the nation's favorite children, having a potential teenage boy come out as gay was big news.

The reaction and hysteria would die quickly, but it was necessary to protect Chip Carver from being found out by one Hsu Chung. Hsu Chung often rose from bed at nine in his three-thousand square foot town home in a suburb of Fairfax, Virginia. Elaborate furnishings were sparse. Only the bare necessities of living were visible.

As a teenager Chung's body was like a laboratory; he used drugs to discover their reactions. Convinced that it was safer to sell than to consume, he no longer asked for money from his wealthy father. The ambitious businessman was prepared to evolve from a two-bit supplier to a major player in the world of espionage and terrorism.

Surprisingly Hsu and Chip Carver shared similar roles; they were both sons of powerful figures. They both, by different routes, had difficulty establishing a sense of identity and a confident role for their own life. One moved to crime; the other into adolescent rebellion. Oddly, in Hsu's case, there was no bitterness toward his father. He never thought of blaming his father for anything, other than his lack of aggression in solving difficult matters.

In his morning routine, a quick review of the world news preceded his shower and cup of coffee. All electrical devices appeared to be not working. Hsu looked out his bedroom window and saw a large, yellow truck with Fairfax County PG&E written across its door and four uniformed repairmen working on a generator. Shit happens, he thought and knew he'd catch up on the news that evening.

What Hsu would find irritating for the next five days, his electricity would go off and on, disrupting his normal routine. The FBI had amazing resources to print their own newspapers with certain articles removed. They would also tamper with U.S. mail and cell phone technology just to make sure a particular target did not receive any pictures or information they weren't supposed to. Chip Carver's picture would never be offered for Chung's observance.












Chapter Sixteen


Chip had hoped that this nuisance in his life had decided to forget any agreement between them. Not to be. Chung texted the boy on Monday evening. He questioned whether the teenager had fulfilled his task and wanted the video in his hands the following night.

Tuesday was an off day for the World Series. The Angels had taken a three-two lead in the best of seven series. A quick call to Looper and a plan was put into action. Chip texted back to Chung: No Tues.--family plans. How about Wed?

Chung texted an address, a Chinese restaurant near George Washington University. He would pick the boy up.

"Not happenin'! My parents would freak. I'll ride my bike," Chip responded.

Chung texted seven o'clock. Chip texted back that it was a school night, five at the latest. Chung came back with six. Five-thirty was agreed upon.

Looper desperately wanted this to end. The Chinese restaurant was too conspicuous to hide agents; furthermore, Chung may well have connections as employees. Too late to check their backgrounds, the precariousness of this task required quick thinking to protect the boy. They had to know what Chung was planning.

Senator Addling had also become impatient. He waited for Chip to visit his office on Tuesday afternoon.

Mrs. Carver never saw a problem in her son's interest in Congressional matters, but these games on school nights were something she had to put her foot down. A firm lecture that school always came first was met with teenage aberrance, but that was expected and Mary held her ground. Chip found out quickly that he wasn't getting his way with his mother. She was taking a firmer stance with him, almost as punishment to the turmoil he had caused. The more he protested the tougher his mother became in not caving in like she usually did. Not even Looper could save him. As an afterthought Mrs. Carver put a hand on her son's knee.

"Your father and I have made concessions, but we've agreed that you see a psychologist for a while."

"What?! A shrink?! You've really tilted this time, Mother! No way! You can't make me!"

"That's no way to speak to your mother, honey. You know I fully support your decisions, but being the president's son has its responsibilities. We just think that a psychologist may well help you to deal with this reality. It is in no way an attempt to change your attraction or your sexual tastes."

"Bet Dad doesn't think that way. He hopes the guy will fuck with my mind."

"Could you not use that word in my presence. It's crass and inappropriate."

"Yeah, sorry." Chip went pensive, his mind swirled with a plan.

He'd have fun with a shrink, like toying with a younger brother. The challenge intrigued him.

"Okay, I'll cooperate but only if you let me go to the baseball game. Please, Mom, concessions, right? We each give and take."

The first lady bit her lip, knowing she was weak when it came to her children. "Agreed, but only if you get your homework done. Report cards are due soon and I don't want to be disappointed. You're given a lot of leeway with Looper. I don't want to take that away."

She knew even if her son had a loads of work, he'd still say he finished. It was sort of an empty threat. The idea of limiting Looper's interaction was almost humorous. Mary had no idea how she would do that. The man and her son were like best friends.

After school Looper dropped the boy off at the Capitol, allowing the senate's security to keep an eye on the boy. As a twelve-year old, Chip found it interesting to sit in the balcony and listen to men argue their positions. Now he found it boring. Moving to the senator's office he hoped the senator would forgo the small talk and go for the goodies quickly. Chip suspected that the senator's staff knew what was going on, but the senator's secretary smiled, nodded, and motioned the teen to go on in.

Chip entered, greeted with a "Hi," and took a seat in a plush chair. Senator Addling smiled, rustled a few papers to a stack and appeared in a serious mood. As a prelude, Chip lowered his zipper in his pants. The games of adult grooming and manipulation were all in the past.

"Let me tell you, my boy, there are two times when a man doesn't understand a woman, before marriage and after marriage. That woman of mine is never happy."

"Yeah," Chip agreed. "My mother and father have their disagreements too."

He realized he shouldn't have offered this information. Protect the family, Chip remembered. Well, who was looking after his interest? There were several handsome senators he'd rather have to give him a blow job or even fuck him. Certainly this elder statesman wasn't his first pick, but the guy was an expert and gave a hell of an orgasm. What was best, he swallowed. Chip smiled at his thought without revealing his thoughts to a serious politician with wife problems.

"Take this advice, Chipper. Any married man should forget his mistakes, there's no use in two people remembering the same thing."

Chip laughed, not sure what all that meant, but knew how his mother, when upset, would remind him of past misdeeds like she had kept a diary. Thank God she wasn't present in school. Then it started, a lecture about this investigator with the police department and how no one should trust him. What was the man doing using one of his tickets for the World Series? Chip felt any arousal that had been started was diminished quickly.

"He's Looper's friend. I like him, too."

"Well, does he fuck you, too?!"

Chip wondered if the secretary could hear the senator's voice.

"That's really done of your business."

Chip had never spoken so belligerent to the man before. It sounded good. He also felt like standing up and leaving. The senator's expression relaxed.

"Sorry. You're right, it isn't. Maybe it would be best if you did seduce him. He'd be off my back."

He walked toward his office door to latch the locking device. Certainly the secretary would hear that but the woman knew better than to ever say anything. Chip watched this typical routine of the senator's. Blood began returning to an engorged penis. A blow job would feel good after a day sitting in class. He'd be masturbating at home anyway if he wasn't here.

"Did you shower today?" the senator asked.

Chip was caught off guard by this question. "Had PE last period. I'm clean as a whistle."

Senator Addling grabbed the boy's tie to stand him up, then kissed him with a wet mouth. The man liked rough sex and didn't hesitate a second in letting this teenager know who had the power. Chip was glad he tasted a mouth mint and not bad breath. Fingers unfastened the tie, shirt, removing them to reveal a teen's physique of a hairless torso. Both nipples were sucked before the senator's mouth gravitated downward. A large protrusion from the boy's pants was very obvious. When the pants were removed the senator removed all of the boy's clothes, then bent him over the desk. A tongue found a tight hole a second later.

Out of all the male aides he'd had through the years only two didn't consent to the senator's attention. Chip had the best moan and it turned Senator Addling on immensely when the boy begged to be entered. Chip had never expressed how excited he got when Looper did this. How did this old fart figure this out?

It took no time for Chip to begin to verbally express the pleasure, his ass squirming, while his boner pressed into the dark walnut wood on this polished desk. If this was Looper, Chip would have encouraged the penetration. He didn't want the senator to know how crazy the tongue was making him. Slowly he felt the penetration, then a thrust that sent the air out of his lungs. Chip almost screamed to the rapid insertion. It wasn't as if the man's cock was like Looper's or his brother's. They at least were gentle. The cavity relaxed and Chip allowed his body to span to this dominance of a large frame and strong hands holding his hips for each ram.

From the beginning there was no doubt that the senator was using him to vent his energies, his frustration with his wife. The slapping sounds were loud, obvious sex within the confines of a U.S. Senator's office. How many teenage aides had experienced the same thing? Chip thought, but by this time his body was in pleasure, welcoming each thrust with delight. Sort of what S&M must be like, he thought to himself. The pounding continued for five minutes, slow for a few seconds, then a rapid pace that left the senator breathing hard. At one point Chip glanced backward to see the senator unloosening his tie, sweating like an athlete doing jumping jacks.

"Like that, my baby bitch? Yeah, take it because you wish I was your daddy."

Finally there was this final plunge, a vocal release of enormous expenditure as the man filled the teen's cavity with fluid. Relieved and satisfied, the senator pulled up his pants, smacked the boy's ass and told him to get dressed. There was no attempt to satisfy this youngster to his own sexual need. Addling adjusted his tie, unlocked the door and stepped out.

With his head rested on an ink pad Chip was about as numb as a sixteen-year old could be. The sex was okay but he hated to be called anyone's bitch. And what was that about being his daddy? He was left naked and unfulfilled. Finally his torso raised off the wooden desk and he walked over to the senator's leather chair. Still somewhat erect he brought himself to orgasm and ejaculated all over the leather seat. With a suitcoat draped over the back of the chair it made a perfect garment to wipe his penis and his ass with. Now he could get dressed. Only after making himself presentable did he bend down to pick up a mechanical spider from the floor, one with video and audio components. It was really cool to have the toys of a spy agency at your fingertips. Not that it was his idea to record the sex, but if Looper wanted the recording then Looper would get it.

Before he started out Chip saw the four World Series tickets on an envelope with his name on it. He picked up the tickets. As Chip passed the receptionist, a woman on the verge of seventy, she was way too cheerful in her question.

"Did you learn anything today, young man?"

"My lessons are always hard," he replied and didn't think for a minute that she'd catch the pun.

Seeing a young intern emptying trash cans and paper shredders, he handed the teenager the tickets.

"Take your buds to the game tonight on me," Chip said and received an unbelievable smile in return.

"Wow, thanks! Who are you?" the boy asked in appreciation.

"The president's gay son."










Chapter Seventeen


Nee How Ma Restaurant, north of George Washington University, is a popular Chinese eatery for area residents, staff, and students on campus. Wednesday evenings were the poorest evenings for diners, but a quickly assembled group of Chinese-Americans and friends, all armed with automatic weapons, would make the restaurant management very happy. Of course the management didn't know these agents were all armed with automatic weapons.

Chung arrived fifteen minutes late, which was perfect since Chip had chosen a table adjacent to a Chinese couple, both FBI agents. Across the room was an elongated table, surrounded by eight businessmen having a celebratory dinner for one of their own just promoted. They also were all Secret Service, FBI, or NSA agents. There was also an agent in each of the restrooms and one in the ceiling with a gun aimed on Chung at all times.

An easy entrance at night, circumventing the alarm system, the burglars had assured that every table was bugged and all angles were covered.

When Chung entered, he wasn't pleased with the commotion or lack of privacy. He asked Chip to walk back to the restroom with him.

"Ain't happening," Chip said, per instructions.

He took off his IPod headphones which he'd received as a birthday gift from Zach, raised his sweatshirt to show a hairless torso and started to remove his pants until Chung panicked.

"Hey, smart ass, no one asked you to take off your clothes," Hsu said.

"Beats a slap to the face," Chip said seriously.

"Let me see those headphones," Chung told him and held out his hand until Chip relinquished his musical device. "Come on, man. I promise I won't hit you. We just need to talk privately."

"I don't trust you, you're a drug dealer. This is as private as it's going to get. It's not like we're not surrounded by flowers, aquariums, and vases. I'm likely to think you're romancing me."

"You're smarter than you look. Do you have the pen?"

Chip handed over the device.

Chung removed the tiny chip, put it into his own digital player, and then watched a few seconds of the White House tour.

"Good job. Anybody else know about this?"

"Why should they?" Chip said. "I like easy jobs for cash. What's next?"

"I'll think of something. I have a gift for you in the car, but let's eat first."

"I'm broke. My headphones cost a lot of money. You're paying," Chip said and got a nod in return. "What are you going to do with the video?"

Chung could have told the kid to mind his own business, but he felt he owed an explanation.

"I make video travel shorts for tourists. I'll probably send this to China. They pay good money for things like this."

"Oh," Chip responded naively and lit up when a plate of chicken and beef arrived.

The two chatted like they were friends, mostly about the Washington Nationals. Chip asked Hsu if he was a fan. He wasn't. Chung inquired about school but received few details of which school or where. In most ways it was a Mexican standoff. Timing was crucial to all concerned, especially the new patrons of the restaurant playing multiple roles at one time.

The table of business executives began to break up at the same time Chip and Hsu finished their meals. The exit of so many might have been suspicious but for new diners arriving. Chip followed to the rear of Chung toward a red Porsche in the parking lot, something he was instructed not to do. He wanted his IPod back after Chung had reached across the table to snag the device. Twenty feet from the car he watched the Chinese man reach under his jacket and hold it there. Chip froze, reversed his direction, and eyed one of the many men in the parking lot there for his safety. Chung stopped, glanced back at a teenager moving away from his.

"Mike! Where the hell you going? Come on, kid, I'll give you your IPod back. Get the fuck back here!"

Chung started after the boy, who was now walking backwards even faster. He saw several bystanders watching this scene. The knife in his belt was left sheathed. Deciding not to make a scene Chung stopped in his tracks, thought about the attention he had drawn, and then trotted back to his sports car.

Chip jumped on his bike and ripped down the sidewalk. There was no question that behind him in the parking lot there was also the purr of a sports engine and the squealing of tires from a souped-up car. A right on Hampshire Avenue, he headed for Washington Circle where Looper was waiting.

The Porsche was quickly alongside his bike, a curb separated the two. Chip glanced and thought he saw a silver revolver in Chung's hand. Through the circle he cycled, his legs spinning those bike tires like he was on a motocross course. He knew that Chung would have to circumvent this obstacle, as well. Too panicky to look for Looper's car, Chip sped down 23rd Street through the center of George Washington University.

There was the sound of an acceleration of the Porsche's engine that made Chip's heart accelerate just like his legs. Into the campus he flew and saw a set of doors open to a Campus center. By four startled students Chip rode his bike right inside, down a hallway and crashed into a campus security guard, a very robust, 310-pound guard security guard.

Eugene Pollo had only been at his position for three weeks and hell come high water if anyone would ride a bicycle into a campus building, especially his. The black man grabbed the lithe teenager like he was a tot and lifted the boy off his bike.

"Say there, boy! Where do you think you're takin' yur skinny ass in my workin' place? And, hell, boy, yur don't even look old enough to be a student here, right?"

Chip had never been so scared in his life, now he was in the grips of a NFL lineman. "Yes, sir. I mean, no sir, I'm not a student."

Chip reached for his wallet and, at the same time, pointed back toward the entrance. "There's man after me!"

Nervously opening his wallet he showed the robust guard the official government identification as one Chip Monroe Carver.

Eugene had always been more bluff than huff. With his size his only role on campus was just looking tough. Between glancing down the hallway and one eye on this government identification he wasn't used to multi-tasking. The entrance came the more important of the two task when a Chinese man on a mission entered through the doorway.

"There he is!" Chip yelled and pointed at Chung who had one hand inside his open jacket.

Eugene wasn't used to making these type of decisions. He figured something was funny here, but he had one kid in custody and a man who didn't look like the boy's father. Confused, yet excited that he had some authority here, this campus guard reached for his walkie-talkie to call the main campus police office for back up.

Chung was used to deciphering problems. A siren heard in the distance helped to make this decision obvious. Any police response couldn't possibly be for this, but he wasn't taking any chances. Maybe someone at the restaurant saw the disturbance and called it in. He wanted nothing to do with this fat man in a uniform or the dozen student eyes perusing the commotion. He spun on his heels, jumped back into his Porsche and wasted no time in leaving the area.

No more was the Porsche sending students and faculty scrambling for safety on a pedestrian walkway, certainly not designed for public vehicles, then this Student Union was surrounded by black SUVs and police cars. When ten agents with large FBI letters on their jackets ran into this building, even Eugene backed off, unsure of what he'd done wrong or who this kid really was. He wanted back up, but not the FBI. His little ole walkie talkie was a lot more powerful than he thought.

Badges flashed, bodies of students ran for cover, while others converged closer to see what all the turmoil was about. Overwhelmed and just knowing this wasn't anything he'd been hired for, the campus guard let go of the teenager and almost raised his arms upward. He just knew his career was short-lived when an agent backed him into a wall and took his name and badge number.

Looper and Zach were in the second wave of blue suits to enter the hallway. Neither one were likely to lose their cool or professionalism, but both would admit a sense of relief when Chip's face came into view. A thought of hugging the boy was dismissed out of protocol, but this act of affection wasn't in Chip's discretionary list. The boy wrapped his arms around Looper, then Zach, never so glad to see his best friends and protectors.

"Anyone hurt you?" Looper asked the boy he was paid to protect.

Before Chip could answer, the lone campus officer was quick to answer, "I never touched him, sir, I swear. There was a Chinese guy, but he left in a hurry."

In the middle of this surge of enforcement Chip was escorted out of the building, past a couple dozen, gawking college students and into a black Chevy. One student was accurate enough when she told her friends that the kid looked a lot like the president's boy--"You know, the one who is gay," she added.

His bicycle was thrown into the rear of another vehicle. As quickly as this university building had been taken over, it barely held a memory of any disturbance a few minutes later. Young people had gathered on the lawn, now even more excited that someone had tried to kidnap the president's son, as one rumor had started. Another boy started a second rumor that spread quickly: the president's son had run away from the White House because he was gay.

The Secret Service had swarmed the campus like a hive of bees. Though Looper knew of the repercussions if the facts surface, the boy's protection preceded any cover-up. An agent left to mop up any evidence had told Eugene to forget what he had witnessed, it only took one student or roaming staff member to demand an explanation. Eugene knew then that he should have taken that job at Burger King.

In the vehicle Chip had regained his composure, able to relate his reactions and observations to Looper.

"Did he fire the gun at you?" Looper questioned, hoping they could finally pin a major felony on Chung.

"No, I don't think so. He stole my IPod, though. Things just happened so quick."

"He'd claim you gave it to him as a gift. That's the last time you will ever see him!" Looper said in finality. "We'll be lucky if your father doesn't ground you for life and have me working at a McDonalds in Poland."

Any department in the framework of the government had ways of making things disappear or events look like smoke and mirrors. With the FBI working in close conjunction with the Secret Service, no one wanted any publicity that could blow an undercover operation, especially when it dwelt with terrorism and the Chinese.

Back in the campus center of the university Eugene had regained his confidence after being shaken to the core. He put on his best smile, raised his hands up to all the students who wanted to know what happened. "False alarm. They thanked me though. Good bunch of guys. They asked me to put in an application."

The students slapped their wannabe cop on the back, then laughed when Eugene left to tell his story to the next group of students.

The World Series game was in the third inning when the boys arrived at the ballpark. The executive box was roomy, full of food and drink, and offered a unique view of the game. Both Chip and Philly preferred the sensations, if not the feeling of practically being on the field in those other seats behind the dugout.

Chip used the binoculars available in the plate glass box to see who occupied the seats. He smiled when he saw the intern with three of his friends.

Hsu Chung drove around his neighborhood several times to assure himself that he hadn't been followed or that there wasn't a police vehicle waiting at his residence. He was frustrated at himself. Surely he had panicked when he heard a siren, probably for something far different than this kid. His goal of killing the boy to eliminate a witness had gone array. The teenager was quick, he'd give him that much. There was some relief knowing the boy wouldn't likely snitch. He'd find himself in juvenile hall for just distributing the drugs. But that was something no one could prove. Someday he'd spot the kid on the sidewalk and finish what he started. Teenagers disappeared all the time.

He arrived back at his residence in time to turn on the baseball game. He was not a fan of either team, but there was something about the competitive atmosphere that intrigued him; plus, many of his connections talked incessantly about the Nationals, so he wanted not to sound ignorant of the results. His mind wasn't on the game. Possibly the boy had seen the gun, maybe even the knife. He'd have to apologize if the kid texted him, tell the kid that these were his gifts. There would have to be another meeting, one more attempt to eliminate any eyewitness to his participation in an act of terrorism that would be remembered for centuries.

Money might entice the boy to meet him in a secluded spot. Maybe even have time to tie and gag the kid up to bring him to his condo. The teen was a cute kid and would make more a fun time before he had to kill him. The thought intrigued Chung to a new motivation.



















Chapter Eighteen


There were several calls into the George Washington University Police Station the next morning. They knew nothing about any disturbance, nor were there any reports. The more important topic was that the Nationals tied the series at three-all. Didn't make any sense to a half-dozen reporters. It was too close to a cover-up and a few newscasters went in search of students who had witnessed the strange occurrence.

Philly teased Looper on the way to school, requesting Chinese for the evening meal. Looper was not so amused. He grabbed the boy around the waist and tickled him until Philly thought he was going to throw up. None of the other agents dared question Looper's tactics.

At the White House the president was delighted to be asked to throw out the first ball before the seventh and deciding game of the World Series. Yes, he would love to have his sons by his side. The exposure would benefit his reelection campaign just getting off the ground.

Senator Addling knew this would be advantageous for him to be present. Not having access to the president's sons, he sent over two tickets for Chelsea and Melissa to join the senator and his wife. His wife had questioned her husband on why the smell of sperm was on his suitcoat, including a large stain. Then the evidence on the seat of his pants when she went to wash them. Naturally the senator pleaded total ignorance. He must have sat on something. He even swore he wasn't involved with another woman and offered to take a polygraph to verify his honesty. In his mind he knew the culprit. Damn kid! He would pay for such belligerence.

Chip could have used another three hours of sleep. The boy yawned through most of his morning classes. He was a little apprehensive about gym class, especially taking a shower afterwards. It was required or a demerit was forthcoming, which meant after school detention. Looper would have a cow. Philly had more peach fuzz on his groin than he did.

Dodgeball was way too much fun, so he indulged anyway. It was in the showers that Chip became the center of attention. Being hung longer than anyone in tenth grade was a grand reputation; having no pubic hair was quite another.

"My girlfriend likes it this way," Chip tried to explain with humor.

"You mean your boyfriend," one of his nemesis implied.

"Oh, so you like it, too?" Chip shot back.

All the kids knew that Chip was protected at all times, but that didn't stop them from showing their resentment.

"I'm not your boyfriend, asshole! I watched Entertainment Tonight on TV last night. You were a major topic. They said you might have come out of the closet with your friend Martin."

For those in the shower, this was news.

Chip was not one to stay quiet. "You mean Martin Van Buren, you dim wit! You're so lame you have no idea what you`re talking about. He was President Van Buren's son in the 1830s. Where do you get your information, Romper Room?"

The more muscular 10th grader approached Chip, barely an arm lengths away. "Who you calling lame, faggot?"

"Check in the mirror, asshole. It's written all over your forehead," Chip responded.

Looper was the trailer, the agent who followed Chip wherever the boy went, including the locker room. He'd never figured the shower room as a danger zone. Just around the corner he heard every word and was proud of his boy for standing up for himself. Boys might have been laughing, but, like most adolescents, they wanted to see a fight. Sounds of pushing, then a punch and bodies hit the tile floor. Looper flew inside, grabbed one wet body and dragged the flailing, naked teenager off the other naked teen. He moved between the boys and separated the pair from getting at each other's throats again. The agent almost slipped himself.

"The rest of you get the hell out of here!" Looper demanded and cleared the shower.

Only two naked teens remained, both spitting flames at each through their eyes.

"Whatever your disagreement is, it stops here," Looper asserted.

Both boys weren't ready for intervention. "You're lucky your babysitter showed up, wuss. I'd beaten your butt," the one teen said.

Chip jerked forward with his fists up, ready to do battle again. Looper grabbed both of their necks and had them both pleading for release. He sent the one aggressor to get dressed, while he kept Chip in the shower. The boy's eye was already puffy.

"Your father won't be pleased," Looper said.

"Fuck him! I'm not going to be called faggot from anyone."

Looper all but pushed the boy's head underneath a shower, then switched it to cold water. He was getting drenched as well, but it served a purpose to calm a hot head down. Holding Chip's neck forward required a lot of effort amidst a verbal barrage of swear words and threats. A few of Chip's peers watched from the shower entrance, getting their laughs before Looper gave them a mean stare. They ran for their lives. They knew if a teacher did that the guy would be picking up his pink slip the next morning.

While the Chip dried off and dressed, Looper sat down on the bench to dry himself off with another towel. One sixteen-year old fumed and wouldn't talk.

"Okay, you're still mad but you had to come to your senses. If you want to fight stupid people your whole life this is a poor start. I'll have to have an ambulance stationed outside the school."

The humor did nothing to lighten the moment. Actually Chip grabbed his school books from the locker and then slammed it. Looper wouldn't let the boy storm out of the locker room without settlement. He took Chip in his powerful arms and was prepared to hang on while the boy struggled and swore. Chip just moped, but finally stopped his attempt to escape.

"Look, kiddo, kids often project onto others their own insecurities. You can't let words get to you or you'll be fighting dragons all your life. That's all I'm saying here."

"Easy for you to say. You know martial arts and can kick ass. What do I know? Nothing! I can jack off. Big deal!"

"Not exactly a rare talent." Looper wished he hadn't said it. "That's not the answer to problems--violence."

"Let me decide that. Teach me."

"Why? So you can beat up every boy in your sophomore class?"

Chip smiled and waited to be released. He turned and punched Looper right in the stomach. His bodyguard pretended it didn't hurt.

"See, I can't even punch right. And what's so wrong if I can stick up for myself? I'm not a bully. I'm sixteen and I cry. What sixteen-year old cries?"

Looper couldn't hold off his laugh. He held his favorite person by the shoulders. "That is nothing to be ashamed of. Do you know that Zach and I saw a movie the other night and the ending was so sad that we both had tears. Men cry, it's good for the soul and shows an emotional side that means we care."

"Yeah, but I'm weak. I think my sisters could probably take me. Come on, Loop, teach me, please."

Looper hesitated. Martial arts had been more of an occupational demand than a hobby. "I'll ask your father."

Looper reached in his pocket and pulled out a new IPod player. "Try to hang onto this one."

For the moment Chip had forgotten the discussion. "I'll reimburse you," Chip replied and thanked the man.

"Consider it a late birthday gift. By the way you're helping your father throw out the first baseball tonight."

Chip contorted his face. "Not with a black eye. What can I do, Looper? Can you fix it?"

Looper checked the eye. "A little ice and a pair of sunglasses, no one will recognize that you've been in a lightweight fight. Kind of sexy, two boys wrestling around in their birthday suits. I've heard of dropping the soap, but you two elevated even that. Almost got me turned on."

Chip laughed and grabbed the man's balls. "Want to wrestle?"

A squeeze proved that their love was too tight for a quarrel to come between them. Chip checked around and realized they were the last two in the locker room. They began to stroll toward the door as the last bell rang.

"By the way, how do I support my father throwing out the first ball?"

"Just don't laugh," Looper replied and had his boy cracking up.

Chip walked into the White House and ran right into the White House cook.

"Master Chip, I've cooked your favorite meal tonight, spaghetti and meat balls. Your mother suggested it."

Chip was both pleased and curious. "My mother only does that when she wants something."

No more than Chip was in his room then he saw the envelope from the senator. Inside were two tickets that were to be given to his sisters. He wasted no time in going to Chelsea's room, a quick knock, and then he entered. She was good at doing the same thing to him and had caught him masturbating twice. Chelsea was amused with both the swollen eye and someone thinking she would want to go to a baseball game.

Chip promised his sister to avoid getting punched in the face in the future. Chelsea said it did nothing for his charm.

"Why would I want to go to some stupid baseball game?" she instantly proclaimed. "Because guys have cute butts and muscles. Think of it as fantasy material."

"They're overpaid, arrogant airheads who think that playing a child's game gives them the right to voice their opinions about things they know nothing about. Anyway, Melissa and I are watching a musical awards show on television tonight. What happened to your eye?"

"Dodgeball. I weaved when I should have dodged," Chip explained.

"A boy dodgeball or girl dodgeball?"

"Do you think I'd let a girl beat me up? Anyway, I had him just where I wanted him. He was laying on me, his dick pressed into mine. Why he punched me I have no idea. We could have had so much fun."

He started backwards when his sister rose from her desk. She was a mean wrestler who used illegal holds.

"You just wait until Looper teachers me karate."

"Why not, he's taught you everything else."

Down the wide hallways, too wide for the intimacy of a real home, Chip saluted three agents standing post as they called it. What normal home had guys with guns in the hallway watching your every move? Chip pondered. The place already resembled an upscale funeral home. He couldn't wait till he could go to college. He found his mother in the sitting room, reading one of those sexy novels, but Chip wouldn't front off his mother with the contents. His whole life was in a gray area, so maybe he should write his own book.

"Hi, Mom." He reached in his back pocket and brought out his report card. "Bet you've been waiting with bated breath for this," he teased.

"What's my penalty this time, water boarding?"

The First Lady's biggest challenge was her eldest son. She found him humorous and challenging. Her hands went to his face, a caring look preceded the handing over of the report card. Mary still took her baby boy in her arms and held him. As tough as her eldest son pretended to be at times, he was a softy when it came to a mother's love. She wiped a tear from his eye.

"Honey, not a fight?"

"I told my math teacher before school started that I better get an A or we're going to tangle. Obviously I made my point. Okay, okay, it's what boys do in the shower when the other refuses to drop the soap."

Mary held her laughter, expecting as much from her son. "Where was Looper?" It was almost accusatory.

"Soaping my back. It happened so quick he was caught off guard. Mom, it's not like Looper can shower with us. That would be kind of kinky. Some of the boys are still working on their pubic hair."

"I'm sure Looper can control himself," Mary said.

"Doh! It's my peers I'd be concerned about. Looper has muscles and is very sexy. I've even found him irresistible."

Mrs. Carver shook her head, never a dull moment when talking to her son. She opened up the report card expecting the worse: two A's, 2 B's and a C in math. She actually kissed his eye.

"Good job. Your father will be pleased. I can't believe your English teacher gave you an A, especially after that debacle with the wax figures."

"Mrs. Ferrer is kinda old, Mom. She doesn't get to see too many penises, so I like I made her semester."

Mary smacked her son's rear. "Don't be crude. Go show your father; he will be happy with this and upset that you've been in a fight. He's in his office."

"What did Philly get on his?"

Mary cleaned her throat, softly saying, "All A's, but, sweetie, don't compare yourself to your brother. You know how he loves school. Some kids are like that."

"Yeah, like all my siblings. Did you drink or smoke while carrying me? That hairless shark bait always rubs it in," Chip said, but in envy more than anger. "I think intelligence skips very other kid."

"Chelsea got all A's."

"Mom! Why did you have to go and verify my theory? I'm thinking that just refers to boys. If you'd had another boy he would have been as dumb as I am. He'd get two black eyes and believe in Santa Claus when he's a teenager."

Chip loved when his mother smothered his face into her breast. It wasn't any turn-on, but the smell and softness made him believe he was mommy's boy. That was a secret he'd never tell anyone.

Chip wandered down to the main floor with report card in hand. He told one of the agents to make sure the two tickets were delivered to a Mister Poole who worked at George Washington University. Mrs. Ellen was his father's secretary, another way-too-professional person who was like his teachers, way too strict and law abiding.

"Young man, your father has General Nichols in his office. I have no idea when they'll be finished. I can have you paged, if you wish."

Chip nodded and pretended to sit in one of the waiting chairs. What would Tad Lincoln do? This question was what Chip was really contemplating. When the secretary turned her back for a split second, Chip took three quick steps to his dad's office and whipped in.

Both President Carver and the general had surprised looks, but the president was never one to show disapproval of his children when others were around.

"Hi, Dad. Your secretary wouldn't let me in. Guess she forgot I was your advisor on dealing with the military on tell and duck. Anyway, thought you two could use some adolescent wisdom from a neutral party. What's our subject?"

The president's secretary came right in behind Chip. "Sorry, sir, I told your son."

"That's quite all right, Ruth. We were just winding down."

Alain had another stare at his son, but a smile actually crossed his face when he saw the report card in Chip's hand.

"That better not be from one of your sisters. You fooled me last time," he mused.

Any time he could make a general laugh he felt almost human.

"Funny, Dad. I had to fight my history teacher until he gave me an A in history. My English teacher held up her hands in surrender. All the other teachers think that you might deport them."

Chip handed the report card to his father, then gave a flippant salute to the military brass. General Nichols saluted back. Like Chip expected, his father's comment went right to the balls.

"Bring that math up and you're on your way to Harvard."

Chip accepted his report card back with no compliment, as usual.

"Son like father. I thought you'd be pleased since it's the same grade the Washington Post gave you on your foreign diplomacy."

General Nichols pretended to cough to cover up his laughter. The president wasn't so amused, though he faked a smile.

"So, how does the other boy look?"

"I'm not too sure. See, we were both naked and when Looper pulled the boy off of me he appeared a little pissed that I'd wrapped my legs around him."

President Carver turned to the general. "Excuse my son. He thinks that he's the future for Saturday Night Live."

The general nodded, wishing he'd have this boy for a few weeks in military discipline.

"Your son has spunk. At least he's sticking up for himself. Too many boys these days would rather run to their mother. The boy brings to mind one of Teddy's boys, Quentin. That lad was one rambunctious boy, always getting into trouble, but a bit soft around the edges. Even though the boy had poor vision and wasn't keen to military service like his brothers, Teddy wouldn't have a sissy for a son and all but shamed the boy into military service. They say the eighteen-year old was reckless, but classic Roosevelt. I'm afraid the boy's carelessness got the best of him when he was downed by several German planes. It was a tragic loss for Theodore."

Chip had not only read about the Buren boy, but also about many of the presidential sons. Quentin was his second choice to be friends with if he lived then.

"I wouldn't have fought," Chip spoke up. "Quentin was passive, a non-fighter. His father killed him is how I look at it. Teddy was afraid his son was homosexual, so he sent the boy to prove himself worthy like his brothers. President Roosevelt regretted that decision the rest of his life. Why should a kid of eighteen have to do battle for a group of politicians and old men? Let them fight their own battles. I think Quentin got the short end of the straw."

General Nichols wasn't going to argue with a sixteen-year old. Before the president could apologize for his son the general liked to fight his own battles.

"Maybe he did, son, but Quentin brought respect to his entire family."

"Do you really believe that?" Chip asked in disbelief.

"Chip, do you think you can be more respectful to the general and to the likes of Quentin Roosevelt?" It was his father's way of apologizing to one of his four-star generals.

"I didn't mean to be rude, Dad. I certainly have nothing against Quentin. The boy didn't have a chance to grow up and marry a boy or girl of his choose. I find that sad."

President Carver bit his lip. "Well, I have the honor of throwing out the first ball tonight. Guess we better get ready."

"Just don't bounce the ball before home plate. I can get you some anabolic steroids before the game tonight," Chip said and had the general chuckle again.










Chapter Nineteen


To the fans appreciation, after the president lobbed a pitch to the Nationals' catcher that resembled a 50-yard touchdown, the owner of this franchise gave autographed balls to Chip and Philly. Both boys wore fashion sunglasses with cranberry lenses given them by one of the players. Expected to admire these ball souvenirs Chip moved up on the mound after his father stepped off, motioned the catcher to return behind the plate, then fired a healthy fastball for a perfect strike. The crowd roared with their approval to the boy's temerity in showing up his father.

"Get your ass up here!" Chip told his brother.

Philly laughed, stepped upon the mound and threw another straight strike to the catcher's glove. The boys received quite an applause. Through a microphone set up in the infield the president told the crowd that his sons were straight shooters like himself. It was a good political out. He also made sure his eldest never came close to that microphone.

Several agents assigned to surveillance of Hsu Chung were on their last evening of this mission that had proven less than fruitful. They were ready to block any transmission of the game to Chung's residence or anywhere else the man might have gone. Instead they had followed the Chinese man to a deserted warehouse on the shore of the Potomac River.

Completely caught off-guard the FBI scrambled several agents to photograph any and all the parties who arrived clandestinely. Five Chinese, two middle-Eastern, and one African American arrived at this warehouse right after sunset. If the agency had been more well prepared, a long distance mic might have well caught the conversation. What the agency did procure were photographs of each party, three of which were illegal immigrants or men that had somehow managed to get into the United States illegally. What the meeting did do was extend the operation and an urgency to stop whatever terrorist activity these men were intending.

Senator Addling and his wife had expected the company of the president's daughters, a welcomed display of beauty and publicity for the senator. He had immediately stood, arms crossed and waiting in protest when these two black adults were led to these assigned seats according to the tickets they held in their hands.

The attendant eyed the proper seats on the tickets and nodded to Eugene and his wife to enjoy the game, right next to the senator and his wife. Eugene's girth hardly was conducive to a stadium chair, but he managed by sitting more forward than a relaxed demeanor. Either way, he felt honored that the president's son had remembered him from the night before. As far as he was concerned, he knew nothing about ever seeing a sixteen-year old on a bike.

His lovely wife, Migela, was pregnant with their first child, pregnant as in the third trimester. She, also, would have required double seating but for tolerance in squeezing in such close confinement.

"Howdy, partner!" Eugene greeted the senator. One thing Eugene had was charisma and a hefty handshake.

Mrs. Addling, skeptical at first, soon found the jolly security guard a delight, both in his knowledge of the game and in his appreciation at sitting next to a politician of some noteworthy. Certainly the senator was far less appreciative.

Through binoculars, young Chip Carver, from the presidential box, giggled at the sight of his invited guests sitting next to the senator and his wife.

The game didn't go the Nationals' way, giving up five runs in the first two innings. Philly was more despondent than his brother, far more a National fan than a Philadelphia fanatic like he had been named after. With two runs in the sixth the score stayed 5-2 going into the ninth. Two walks, a single, and Bryan Harper had the bases loaded with two out. True to form, the Angel pitcher fired a fastball past Harper's chin. The most valuable Nationals' hitter stared at the Angel's best reliever but whiffed at the next two strikes. Another ball and two foul-offs before he drove the next pitch over the right field wall. The boys, not excluding their father, jumped for joy.

Six to five it was a precarious lead considering the strength of the Angels' lineup. Getting the first two runners on for the Angels in the top of the ninth didn't show promise. Though Strasburg had pitched a sixth game gem, he was brought in to pitch to the heart of the Angel lineup with no outs. Striking out the first hitter he got the next to hit into a game ending double play. The Washington Nationals had won their first World Series.

Exuberant celebrations around the ballpark found Chip himself in his father's arms. For some reason Chip couldn't fathom why he froze there for a split second in this father-son bond. Though the squeeze wasn't in acceptance or done with love it felt comforting. Looper could do the same thing and create a sexual charge. This was different.

President Carver treated the joy and fanfare for a political advantage. He waved to all the smiles and cheers from thousands. He had no idea how important one photographer's capture of the president's arms surrounding his eldest son and holding him close.

The World Series title was what all the kids wished to talk about before school started the following day. There was still bad blood between two boys upon their return. Looper kept an eye on both of them.

Neither presidential son had come to the realization that their celebrity status would cause a great deal of envy from peers, while others felt honored just to be in the same class. A single punch to the eye had unnerved the usually confident sixteen-year old. He avoided eye contact with his adversary, preferring to disregard the incident and hoping it wouldn't escalate. Though he felt the penetrating and challenging eyes from the other boy Chip kept his smile and survived the day without incident.

Chip arrived home from school with a bouncing step and was told by the Chief Usher that it was his turn to feed the family dog, Stonewall. Stonewall wasn't any puppy, practically too old to climb the stairs to the second level. He was given the name when Philly, just a tot, waddled into the dog as a puppy and ended up on his butt. The new family pet just stood there idly looking at the crazy kid who didn't know where he was going.

Chip also noticed that the Chief Usher had a small party going on with several of the hundred-plus staff. Doug Wabash, the responsible person in running the White House, told Chip it was in celebration of the boy leaving for the weekend to visit the Russian Ambassador's son. Chip pondered whether to believe the guy or not. He really wasn't that bad, was he?

Mrs. Carver met her son at the entrance to the boy's bedroom.

"Before Looper takes you over to Yuri's, you have an appointment with Dr. Vance."

"Ah, Mom, do I have to see this guy? Do you really want to ruin a perfectly good day? I'm perfectly, mentally stable. See, I can wiggle my ears, rub my stomach and look cross-eyed at the same time."

"Save that for your college entry exam. Dr. Vance is waiting for you in the library."

"Good, I think I might have a comic book still stashed in there."

"Sweetie, I want you to be on your best behavior. I know this isn't by your own doing but maybe you might learn something."

Annoyed, Chip stepped into the library expecting Freud. He saw a Jennifer Lopez lookalike instead.

"Mr. Carver, I presume?"

"Every time someone calls me mister, I know I've screwed up and I don't even know you."

The psychiatrist smiled. "We're starting with a fresh slate. Have a seat; I'm harmless."

"That's what my father tells the leaders of Third World nations while he picks their oil coffers."

"So, where do we begin? Your mom tells me you just came out of the closet."

Chip's face contorted, a painful look of disbelief. "She didn't?! Why do mothers have to ruin our lives? You don't have to answer that, I know the answer. Because we're easier than my dad to torment."

"You're funny. Your mother is only concerned for your future happiness."

"And driving me batty. Looper was right when he said to be happy with a son you must understand him a lot and love him a little. To be happy with a mother you must love her a lot and not try to understand her at all."

"Well said. Who is this Looper? A friend? A lover?"

"Depends in how much trouble I can get in."

"Don't tell me anything that I may have to report. Use metaphors, no names, places, or...."


"Okaaaay, that's not where I was going, but...."

"I see you're going to be like my mother. She has the last word in any argument. Anything I say after that is the beginning of a new argument. I learned that from a U.S. Senator."

"Then let's not argue. Tell me a little about yourself."

"Next you'll be asking how I feel. Why don't you ask me about my father."

"Sure, we can start there. How's your relationship with your father?"

"Well, my mother knows about my dentist appointments, my sexuality, best friends, favorite foods, maybe my dreams and goals. My father is vaguely aware that there are four short people living in this house."

"And how do you feel about that?"

"See, I told you. I've seen Dr. Phil; I know your game. Personally, I don't give a rat's ass," Chip said emphatically.

The therapist let silence hang, like an emotional response had yet showed its ugly teeth.

"Is that rat your father, Dr. Phil, or about your feelings?"

"Do you mean rat or ass?"

"Care for my opinion?"

Without his usual grin, Chip replied, "Since when do women not express their opinion? I have a younger and older sister. One of them wants to dress me in what she thinks a boy should wear, the other wants to pick my boyfriends."

"See, Chip, we all crave love and attention. Unfortunately we are initially intimidated by our parents, especially high achievers like your father."

"I used to be intimidated by him, his generals, and all the other "yes men" who follow him around like puppy dogs. He had a longer dick, but I've caught up. Soon I'll surpass him in height. I can probably cry better than he can. So, there, satisfied? You now know what makes me tick and my best side. Fortunately for a gay kid it's between my legs."

"There's something about a teenager who's not superficial. Congratulations. So, what hobbies or activities do you have to keep you happy?"

"I like sex; actually, I masturbate a lot, with emphasis on lot. I play tennis and golf, and I like men. Cute guys who play tennis and golf."

Dr. Vance laughed. "You are an interesting young man, Master Carver. Your mother warned me, but I have several adolescents on my docket. Though you're all challenging it's unique to have one speak their mind so freely. Where's this come from?"

"I figure you think I'm narcissistic and self-indulgent. Why not destroy all your preconceived judgments and get to the bottom line."

"I make no judgments or preconceptions about you, Chip Carver. You have one door and one window in your life. You've unlocked that door to reveal who you are, but how many people are you letting in? That window to your soul, what do you want to see? Being gay is perfectly acceptable, but don't make your sex life a clever game which even society cannot keep from playing. Your role as a gay teen is not your misplaced, condescending liberalism, but rather your insight. Be proud in humility, not in being so defensive that you turn people off. Your worth as a human being is not dependent on anyone's approval."

"Tell my father that one. You might not make any judgments to me, but you have them. You might have your laughs about me when you get in the car. `That silly, confused boy,' you're going to say."

"Possibly, but unlikely. I don't see where you're confused about anything. A lot of teens still want to question why their pecker stands up for their own sex. Maybe I will convey to your father that one, the approval thing, not the pecker. See you next week."

That totally caught Chip off guard. "That's it? Aren't you going to give me electrical shock therapy? How about hypnosis? Sex reversal? Water boarding?"

"And ruin your next masturbatory fantasy? Not hardly. Your mother says you're on your way for a weekend with another boy. A hot weekend?"

Chip grinned. "You're good. Yuri is Russian and gay. If you tell Puton he will put my friend in some Gulag, maybe Siberia. Yeah, we'll have our fun in bed, but he's not my boyfriend. I'm on my way there now. I might even take what I've learned from you and psychoanalyze him. Russians have feelings, you know."

The doctor roared with laughter. That book she was going to do about adolescents had a whole new chapter. As Chip began his trot down the stairs to the awaiting vehicle, Chelsea caught his attention.

"Hey, brat, Mom is redecorating the family room again. The Smithsonian sent over some of their new displays. We each get to select one artifact."

"Any Mapplethorpe pictures or Bel Ami art?" Chip asked, referring to his gay interest.

"Not likely, but here's a brochure on Body Visible. It's pretty cool."

Chip scanned the flier with pictures of cadavers that had been stripped of their skin and put into motion to reveal the human body in action.

"Mom would let us have this?"

"Why not? Philly and Melissa would like to see this, as well. Like all the displays we get, we can keep them for three months."

"Yeah, sure, it beats the moon rocks."

The Russian Ambassador's home is on 16th Avenue, not far from the White House. Chip Carver was the first presidential son to ever have a stay over at a Russian estate. The arrangements for security were debated for days before an agreement was reached. Looper volunteered to act as the liaison and ended up putting together a detail of three men assigned for this protection. It wasn't like Yuri didn't have his own bodyguards, but not nearly as invasive or apparent as President Carver's sons or daughters.

Rather than have their eyes on Yuri, the Russian security men were more likely to gain knowledge and insights into the America's president's children. Any nuance could be politically advantageous. Yuri was a few months younger than his best friend, a boy he met at an Ambassador's dinner at the White House. The two boys, Ambassador Pacheko's only son, discovered their mutual attraction while playing hide and seek with the Carver siblings. In a closet, Yuri admitted that he found his new friend cute. Chip rested his hand on Yuri's groin and the rest is historical Kinsey research. Minutes later it was Philly who discovered the two boys in the closet with both their pants down to their ankles. Like most young brothers, he didn't want to be left out of any fun.

The boys played tennis on the court in the back lawn, built specifically by the last Russian Ambassador. Though Yuri was hardly a proficient player, their laughter was far more fun than the score showed. They showered together, then searched the Internet before dinner. Gay site after gay site they picked their favorites and voted who was the hottest. The two youngsters shared a common thread in their love for cute boys. Doing it together didn't change the goal, quick to arouse, goal-targeted, driven to hunt, and silly acting.

After dinner it was back to different Web sites. They were young Elmer Fudds, trigger-happy and on the hunt. The moment one of them spotted a wabbit, they froze the picture, zoomed it four times, then gave their personal ratings on an erection scale.

Yuri was the only person, outside of Philly, who knew about Looper and Chip's relationship. The Russian boy, though handsome and soft on a masculine scale using dodgeball aggressiveness, had searched for his own man. So far, three Russian bodyguards had given the boy negative responses. For every agent assigned to the Russian Embassy, including Looper that day, they knew that these two teens shined a light on hidden desire. A quirky realm of lust, fetish, and kink that, like the far side of the moon is oblivious to most, would be glimpsed at by these two that evening.

After their first romp in bed they rested back on their pillows for that male respite that both had come to terms with. In twenty or so minutes their penises would rise again.

"Oh, yeah! Yuri we're getting this cool exhibit in the White House."

Chip hopped out of bed and reached for his blue jeans. Out of the back pocket he pulled the brochure of Body Visible.

"Check this out."

Yuri examined the pictures of the cadavers without skin, both male and female.

"So this is what we look like? That's so cool. You going to invite me over, yes?"

"You bet. We can always put a condom on the guy's dick."

The boys laughed, but then the bedroom door opened. In walked Mr. Pacheko, no knock, no pre-warning to his arrival, and certainly a disregard for his son's privacy.

A much older man than Chip's father, he was on his third marriage. Yuri was his sixth child; all his older siblings were half brothers and sisters. Dario Pacheko had served as a military officer when Russia was still a great power. He'd taken the ambassador's job as a way to escape too many ex-wives, demanding children, and harsh winters. His apartment in Moscow and his dacha in St. Petersburg were lived in by two of his sons. He had substituted comfort, modern appliances, and social graces for the status he had in Russia. Yuri was not a disappointment; actually he loved the boy far more than his other five children from previous marriages. Yuri's mother had died from breast cancer two years earlier, but, thankfully, Yuri was old enough not to require the full-time attention of a father. The boy was also different from his macho brothers. His relationship with President Carver's son was unique. Both boys kept the ambassador in stitches most of the time with their humor. Chip was like another son.

Dario had expected that the boys were having a sexual relationship. Their nakedness in bed didn't surprise him. The picture on the boy's computer screen of a naked teenager with an erection exemplified who his son was. Yuri was open about his attraction to males and his love for America. Dario was determined to give his son this life for as long as possible.

His boy's English was so good, the father and son combo rarely spoke in Russian. It was no longer necessary for the Ambassador to groom his child to American standards. If and when the time came for them to stay in America he knew he could count on his son's acceptance.

"Hey you munchkins!" the Ambassador greeted. He figured the boys had just finished; the bedroom smelled of sperm.

"Evening, Papa," Yuri said. He leaped from his bed with a half-erection and handed the brochure to his father's hand. "The White House is getting this."

"Only for two weeks. Most of the time we can keep stuff for ninety days, but this is an exception," Chip added.

"Ah, yes, our Kremlin also have these. Our president has agreed to put show on display for his staff and family, as well," Dario informed the two boys.

Chip's face lit up. "Wow! The same company must have many of these exhibits."

The ambassador patted his son on the head. Out of all his six kids Yuri was the most dedicated and the one he could trust the most. He moved over to the bed and did a fake wrestling slam on Chip. Dario really liked President Carver's son and thought of him as a good role model for his boy. He couldn't help but notice Chip's rather extended member, though limp. A point at the profound male genitalia.

"A spy camera. I recognize from our days." He grumbled a laugh, which had the boys giggle.

To assure his son and Chip that he held no judgment or condemnation of their friendship, he picked up a Kleenex from the floor and smelled the sperm.

"Male aftershave. My favorite, da?"

Yuri and Chip grinned at the elder man's sense of humor. This was not the first time Yuri's father had caught them in bed. Chip all but panicked a year earlier when the man came in and Chip had Yuri's legs over his shoulders.

"Make my boy squeal like pig," the ambassador had told Chip and departed.

It was more a tacit approval than any condemnation. Without covering the boys back up, he kissed each of them goodnight and departed.

"Your father is so cool," Chip admitted to a proud Russian boy. "My father would have had us interrogated by the CIA for gay espionage."

Dario retreated to his own bedroom after assuring Looper and Stan that the boys were doing well in each other's arms. Looper held his smile, though his partner wasn't too sure what to think.

"You know about this?" Stan questioned his partner.

"If you want to start another Cold War you're welcome to walk into that bedroom like you're protecting the morals of Chip Carver. I wouldn't advise it."

Stan puckered his lips. "Not in my pay description. Might just make our two countries that much closer."

Ambassador Pacheko had almost asked the two Secret Service men for assistance. He desperately wanted political asylum, but there were too many cameras and wandering eyes to make his move at this time. The ambassador had been in a query about his future and his son's. Having President Carver's son as his boy's best friend would serve his needs well if he decided to defect, though such a word was so Cold War. Given the opportunity Dario decided to present this proposal to the president by way of his son. Certainly the boys' friendship would influence this transition.











Chapter Twenty



Chip returned late Sunday afternoon from Yuri's residence. The ambassador had decided to go along for the ride, only to slide an envelope inside of Chip's jacket pocket.

"For your father," the man whispered when his son wasn't looking.

Chip hadn't felt like attending church with his family, though his father had requested as such. It wasn't like Chip to jump at his parent's insistence. He thought sure his father would say something negative about his absence, but Alain had only stopped his son in the hallway to address his opinion on visits to his Russian friend.

"Given the recent tension between our two countries, I don't think it's a good idea for anymore visits. Do we understand each other?"

Chip had temporarily forgotten about that envelope given to him by Ambassador Pacheko. He thought at the time it was probably a thank you note like the last two notes from the ambassador. His father tossed the previous one in the trash right in front of the boy.

"Whatever," Chip replied and knew it was the one word his father hated.

With darkness arriving early, Chip talked his brother into going on the roof of the White House, where they enjoyed watching the stars and finding comets or asteroid showers. The Naval Observatory had donated a telescope for the boys use. During warmer evenings the brothers often jerked off while they each had one eye on the heavens. Philly thought it made this act so beautiful in comparison to space. They traded their weekend experiences, though Chip's five orgasms per night had Philly more than envious.

Philly, in comparison, spent his Saturday watching college football, while Sunday was swimming and bowling after church services. Chip's only fault with Yuri was the boy's occasional peccadillo of getting into his father's liquor cabinet. Not one to impress his peers, Chip drew the line on alcohol and drugs. He'd read a great deal about presidential kids after learning about Tad Lincoln and Quentin Roosevelt. So many children who had lived in the White House had discovered alcohol and their lives had been severely affected, if not destroyed. He let his disappointment be known to his brother, who he trusted emphatically.

Another delicate subject was broached. "Philly, is mom making you see a shrink?"

"Not that I'm aware of," Philly answered, "unless Chelsea counts. She's always trying to tell me what to do."

Chip wasn't going to whine to his parents that his siblings should have equal treatment, but he did think it was unfair. Was something really wrong with him? Philly listened intently, always loyal to a brother he loved dearly. The younger brother had no answers, only a comparison.

"Chelsea once told me that Patti Reagan rebelled against her father by dating the guitarist of the Eagles, participating in anti-Vietnam rallies, posing nude for Playboy, and wrote three sexy novels. Maybe our parents think you're about to go radical on them."

"I'm not that bad," Chip replied. "I sort of pose nude." He laughed.

"Yeah, for your own porn site." Philly got punched for that one.

Monday's therapy session was right after school. Chip was usually snacking with his siblings, but was directed to the library for his shrinkage, he called it. He wasn't pleased to have to go through another inquisition by a woman. Boys shouldn't have to talk about their sex lives with a female. They had no idea what a pulsating boner does to a guy!

"So how was your weekend, young man?"

"Ten orgasms." Chip hoped to gross her out.

"Top or bottom?"

"Both. I'm versatile. I'm surprised you'd know about that."

Without looking up the doctor confessed a personal interest. "I have several gay friends. If I may ask, how can your parents encourage your dreams and excellence without stomping on your spirit with unrealistic expectations?"

Chip wasted no time. "That's like math. Do all therapists talk like that?"

"My bad. What can your parents do to support you?"

"My father can accept me for who I am and not ridicule my friends. He's so domineering, wanting to dictate every aspect of my life and setting impossible standards."

"Name one," Dr. Vance quickly said.

"He wants me to go to Harvard."

"And your wish?"

"Film school," Chip burst out, even surprising himself. "Yuri and I want to do movies."

"Interesting. And about your mother? What do you want from her?"

Chip had to think more on this one. "She loves my sisters more than me." He knew he might be stretching the truth on this one.

"Example," she asked for. " My mother just doesn't understand boys."

"What woman does?" Lynda smiled. "Help your mom understand."

Chip frowned. "A boy can't talk about jacking off or being a bottom. Okay, I admit that part. I can't visualize my mother as a sexual creature. My sisters, well, I know they are, but Mom, I don't think she'd get it."

Dr. Vance had heard this a thousand times. She had only one comeback. "Your mother has had four children. I think she knows a lot about the male anatomy and has a happy sex life. That might not be a great picture to you, but it's fact."

"Maybe she's forgotten," Chip offered with a grin.

"I'm not here to say you're wrong, Chip. President Lincoln favored Willie. Teddy Roosevelt favored his namesake and wrote him letters telling him so. Parents have chosen children, but that doesn't mean they don't love you."

"I'll really be the pariah when dad finds out I'm gay and I like dick. He'll hate me for sure."

Chip took a breath, a reactionary thought that what he had just said might come true. A memory from last week's final game came to mind.

"My father didn't even recognize that I'd thrown a perfect strike last week after he had made the catcher leap from behind the plate to catch his errant ball. Philly got a pat on the head. Where was mine?"

Dr. Vance knew exactly where this was going. It wasn't Chip's problem that he was in an uphill battle to win fatherly approval. She'd studied presidential children to get a grasp of having one in therapy. Robert Lincoln's statements were coming too close to the heart of one Chip Carver. Robert had told a former professor that in all his plans for the future, the chief object he had had in view was the approbation of his father, and now that he was gone he felt utterly without spirit or courage. One hundred and fifty years later it appeared another presidential son was being abandoned. It did seem to the psychiatrist that even the most tragic stories of presidents' children's problems were often changed when the powerful parents needed the child's help. In this case, that wouldn't likely happen for years, if ever. The boy had been abandoned, and it could only get worse. Chip Carver was on his way to devastation if matters didn't change.

"Let me congratulate you, Chip, on your transparency. It's refreshing. For a new sixteen-year old you appear to have a great deal of experience and confidence in your sexuality."

"A good teacher."

"I do hope your teacher was not an adult."

"Why? You think one of my own peers is going to teach me how to love? That's a little naive, don't you think? A gay boy needs a good mentor. I lucked out."

Dr. Vance sighed. "They have a word called consent, Chip. You don't qualify under the law to give consent. Any adult would be taking advantage of your age."

"Say, what?! You've got to be joking. Who made that up, some old fart who can't get it up anymore? We're not talking about a candy man here. No one enticed me, trust me on this. It was of my own choosing. No one molested or abused me. Most often I pursued him. That's not consent, lady, that's love and desire."

"That's irrelevant. They have age of consent laws for a reason. Sometimes a child doesn't know he's been exploited for years to come."

"You mean until someone convinces him that something bad has happened because he had his penis touched. Then money signs shine in their eyes. Let's get real. I have a whole lot of responsibilities and decisions to make. Do I have to have this magical consent to stand there and take verbal harassment from my father? Do I have to consent for my PE teacher to torture us with calisthenics? I don't get a lot of input into the way certain people treat me. But when it comes to sex I know what I want. Don't tell me I can't consent. No one gets me up in the morning, wipes my butt, or gives me a choice of which adult is going to harass me in school or at home. I masturbate, fantasize all by myself, and even undress myself. If I want to have sex, guess what? I'm going to have sex with whomever I want. I know all about protection and STDs, so don't give me that lecture. I don't buy the puritan approach that gay boys are going to be corrupted by their adult counterpart. Bullshit! Quentin Roosevelt had a dick for a dad. Who protected him? Teenagers have rights that better be upheld or I'm going to run for president and change a whole bunch of laws!"

The doctor sat back into a more relaxed posture. She didn't dare laugh or smile.

"I see you have a real backbone if someone pushes your button. Is that a gay bubble surrounding you?"

Chip finally smiled. "Maybe it is and I know who I want inside of it. So there! I know this sixteen year-old page who works for a Congressman. His top five blow jobs don't even have my senator on the list. Go tell him he's being exploited."

"Trouble with that, young man, is, when it's discovered, guess who loses their job, reputation, family, money, and ends up in confinement? Not you, is it? You get to go back to school and have recess and school activities like nothing has happened."

"That's if someone tells. I don't snitch on my man, and even if you did find out, I'd deny it. Yeah, I can act like the innocent child, but not on my watch. I'd rather put a knife in my gut than see anything happen to Loo....... Listen, Doc, make waves around here and you disappear or become nobody. My father is as corrupt as any of them; he just has a license to do it. I don't owe you jack shit and you don't owe me. One would think you'd be happy to love and be loved. Isn't that what life is all about?"

The doctor knew that whatever she said would be seen as adversarial. In many ways the teenager was right on. From a professional position many adult, mentoring relationships with children that involved sex were quite beneficial. There was yet a research paper that proved non-coercive sexual acts were harmful. Society just had tremendous problems in seeing their children as sexual beings who could benefit from pleasurable acts with an adult. She wasn't about ready to try to convince a sixteen-year old that he was exploited when it apparently wasn't the case.

"I think we're at a bypass. Just be careful, Chip. You're a good kid and easy to take advantage of."

"Not really. I'm stubborn, a pain in the ass, and very independent. When I set my mind to something, I get it done. I have to be careful not to take advantage of others. Goes with the territory. I had this senator screw me the other day and didn't give me equal time. Homie don't play those games. He can go fuck his lawn chair next time."

"You didn't have to tell me that."

"And you don't have to be here picking my brain. Transparency, right?"

"Yes, you are transparent. I have patients who could learn from you. See you next time?"

"Why is that a question? You giving me the choice here? Personally, I think you're making progress. I feel you're close to managing your difficulties understanding adolescents."

This time she couldn't resist busting up.

After dinner and homework Chip opened his laptop. Awaiting him were two texts, one was from Senator Addling; the other was from Hsu Chung, apologizing if he'd scared the boy in some way. He had simply wanted to give the IPod back and what boy doesn't want to own his own gun and knife? It's part of the territory for the business they were in.

>>>By shooting or stabbing me?<<< Chip texted back.

>>>Those were gifts<<<

>>>Interesting gifts-not interested<<<

Chung tried for one more assignment, a thousand dollars. He'd even meet Chip anywhere he wanted. In front of a police station, just to show good faith. He wanted the boy to know that it wasn't he who hacked.

Chip had heard Looper's concern that the agency had learned nothing to merit criminal charges of a magnitude to get the man out of the country. If this was the last time, why not go for it? Chip said he'd meet the guy in front of the Capitol building the following day at four. He'd bring his brother. Chung actually agreed to the place, but wanted no one else. After all, Chung texted, there are cops all over the place. Chip agreed.

Chip was not amused with the scolding that Senator Addling put on him. Like he was really going to contact the senator and ask permission on who he wanted to have the tickets that were a gift to him. The senator backed off, then wanted for Chip to stop by the following day.

>>>I don't do one-way streets<<<

>>>Don't understand<<< the senator answered back.

>>>Figure it out--I hope you sat on it<<< Chip signed off.

Senator Addling was used to getting his way. He was the bully, not some sixteen-year old playmate wet-behind-the-ears. The boy was an awesome fuck, tight and loving every second of it. Maybe he had been kind of rough the last time, but what was this one-way street thing? His lobbyists were lucky to get five minutes of his time; yet he gave this brat a whole fifteen minutes. Worst of all, the boy had given the two tickets to two blacks, behemoths who had made his wife very uncomfortable.

Addling decided to pay President Carver a visit, a way for the man to seek his wisdom and counsel. Such a visit would impress the boy and bring them back into good graces. The young Carver might also be wary that the senator was getting him in trouble in some way. That might make young Chipper beat a doorway to his office at the Capitol building.

When Looper was told about the exchange of texts the previous night he was not pleased. He thought that any further contact was forbidden. If need be, a couple of agents representing the family could pay Chung a visit and cease this harassment. Given the place of exchange, Looper granted the visit. Once again many eyes would be on the two.

For Chip to stand alone on the Capitol steps required a look of incognito to protect the boy against anyone who recognized him. Wearing shades, a Redskins' hat and a jacket collar high on his cheeks, it was enough to mask the facial features of the president's son. The cold blustery fall day helped the situation.

Chung made his appearance, almost as incognito as Chip's. Wearing a black sweatshirt with hood, black leather pants and sunglasses, they met on the top step, only ten yards from two policemen guiding the entrance. An IPod was handed over, but Chip told him he could keep it because it had probably been tampered with. Chip might have meant it as sarcasm, but the man had put a GPS chip in it. Chung shoved it back into his pocket.

When Chung reached into his sweatshirt pouch there was a sharpshooter on the roof of the National Air and Space Museum with his finger on the trigger. Anything resembling metal would have meant the end of this man's life. Chung handed the youngster an envelope filled with ten one-hundred dollar bills and one video pen.

"I need another visit to the White House on Friday, November 24th. You're on Thanksgiving vacation, so no excuses. They're having new decor put in and I need pictures."

Chip took out the money and handed the envelope back. "Why don't you do it?"

Chung had a ready excuse. "They know I do travel pictures without permission. It's easier this way. We all get what we want."

Chip nodded, glad to get this over with. "I'll tell you where the pen is when I'm done. Don't contact me again."

As if Chung had forgotten about this aspect, he was taken back for a second. "Yeah, right! You're in this up to your eyeballs, kid. You don't tell me when it's over; I tell you. If you do this right, maybe I'll let you off the hook. Let me know. Don't fuck it up, or I will find you."

"I'm sure with your gun and knife," Chip said and walked away.

Immediately Looper had the pen checked before Chip returned to the White House. Inside was another GPS device which was removed and destroyed. The main question concerning the Secret Service was how this ambassador's son knew that the First Lady was changing the decor, and why the pictures?





















Chapter Twenty-One


Getting the president to sit with a psychiatrist for even a few minutes was like pulling teeth for the First Lady. She throttled home the importance that this was for their son, if not all their children.

"It was your idea to begin with!" She reminded him.

"Fifteen minutes! Not a minute longer," Alain spoke to show his command and displeasure of his wife's demand and to assure himself that they'd both be there.

If the Democrats ever found out about this, God only knew how far they'd run with it. If anyone knew the premise of POTUS being led hand in hand down the corridor they would have had to equate it to a child being led to the dentist for the first time by his mother. Alain had refused to meet with the shrink in the Oval Office. The correlation he found disdainful. This was his son's problem, not his.

When the husband and wife entered the Sitting Room, they were greeted by a woman with a dark blue skirt and blouse. President Carver's resistance melted on his sight of a young fashion model. Physical attractiveness and psychotherapy were not mutual terms in the president's mind. That had quickly changed. Whether Dr. Vance intentionally applied her charm didn't have to be answered. Mary Carver could have put her finger in her throat.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. President. I know you're a busy man but I admire a father who can give a few minutes to assist their children through a difficult time."

President Carver smiled, shook hands with the lady and wanted to make love to this bombshell. Only problem, his wife was present. He regretted getting her involved and insisting she be there.

"When I heard you desired this meeting I was tremendously pleased."

Mary Carver could have smacked him. Perfunctory introductions and licentious thoughts behind them, Dr. Vance went to the heart of the matter.

"You have a child on the verge of rebellion." She let it hang.

POTUS dismissed this reality. "What sixteen-year old doesn't try to get his parents out of his life. They have no idea what life is about or how obnoxious they are to the adult world. That boy rebels against any suggestion from his parents."

"Oh, hush, Alain. Give the lady the opportunity to explain. I believe it's just the opposite; Chip wants you part of his life."

"Sure! As long as I put up with his nonsense and pat his ass with everything he does. Damn if I'm going to condone his behavior, or his friends. He's out of control!"

"What kind of behavior is that?" Dr. Vance asked.

The president started, stuttered, then decided there was no use in hiding what he figured only he knew.

"He thinks this gay thing is the fad, like it's okay for his friends to act all effeminate and anything goes. He's doing it just to get back at me."

Dr. Vance held up her hand to keep the First Lady from doing her job. "Mr. President, could you love a son who is gay?"

His hesitancy brought tears to the First Lady's eyes. His anger preceded his directness.

"Look, ma'am, my kids aren't gay, so the question is irrelevant. If we're here to discuss homosexuality, I have better things to do."

"The hell you do!" Mary spoke up. "We're here to discuss our children and you're going to sit there and listen."

Dr. Vance never had felt so uncomfortable in her life.. In front of her was a woman scolding the President of the United States. The man not only backed off his defensive posture, he surrendered to his wife's demands like a beaten puppy.

"Now that you know who runs this country." Alain tried to humor the situation by pointing at his wife. "Okay, where's this going?" POTUS asked.

"Sir, Mr. President, I'm not here to discuss homosexuality but your son's life. A child of the president is neglected because of the insatiable demands of the presidency and the process of getting there. The alternative is a child smothered by the blinding light of successful parents, making it difficult to establish a sense of identity and a confident role for their own life. They also rarely have an equal chance with their own peers. I've also spoken with your eldest daughter; actually, she caught me in the hallway and wanted to speak with me. One of her comments was that she held no resentment toward her parents. Chelsea said you both can do for the world far more importance than anything you could do for them. Yes, girls are more resilient, and Chelsea is at that age that she has obviously made more sense of things. Chip, on the other hand, is going through transitions unimaginable to anyone but a teenager.

"I'm not here to boost your ego, but being president is not the normal kind of celebrity. Soon you will have the World Series' champions in the East Room, bantering good-naturedly with you and in full view of the nation how much professional athletes honor their president. You invite dignitaries, priests and pastors to the White House for whatever matter, and that is one great quest for each of them to be secreted away in the private quarters of your Oval Office. Your children will not be able to rationalize away their own shame from the failure of being a child of the president. They can never achieve that same kind of fame. On the one hand, they must define themselves independently from the parent and establish their own self-worth, which often demands some kind of diminishing the two of you as parents. But, on the reverse, they seek intimacy because they are constantly defending the parents they love and with whom they are publicly inseparable from the onslaught of a ferocious and opinionated public.

"Chip is alternating between pushing you away and also seeking your reassurance. One is the quest of an identity of one's own, the other for intimacy with a loving parents maintaining some reality in this White House. With his sexuality in question, this raises the bar even higher."

"Again, I don't think my boy questions his sexuality." Alain chuckled, but it was fake.

"You're right, Mr. President. He doesn't question his sexuality, for he knows exactly who he is. You have failed to validate his sexuality."

The president's temper rose. "Who are you to tell me I've failed in anything?"

The doctor could have retreated in fear. Instead she leaned forward and kept her voice as calm as a true professional.

"Because your boy is calling for help and you have refused to see the signs. You are making him feel inferior and unwanted."

"Ridiculous! What are you saying, that my son is gay and I'm making him feel rejected?"

Mary Carver leaned toward her husband, an expression, not in provocation, but empathic. She even put her hand on his thigh.

"Honey, have you ever wondered why our son never talks about girls? Why he has the rainbow flag as his screen saver? How he relates to his peers at school? Looper tells me he sticks up for any peer who appears weak, defenseless, or others who are suspect as being gay. Why that boy singer we had last Christmas Eve sent our son a picture of himself signed, You made me sing, Love, Justin?"

President Carver was caught between laughter and disbelief. "He's going through a phase, that's all. The boy doesn't know what he wants, and sometimes I think Looper has too much influence over him. Hell, Looper may well be gay, and what kind of role model is that man if he is gay? We should maybe find another agent to head that detail."

"Don't you dare! Looper is there for our son and all our children. They cherish him. Chip looks to the man for advice when you're not around. Actually, and I regret saying this, the man is a surrogate father," Mary relayed.

"I still think the man has too much influence over my son." The president glanced back at the therapist. "Doctor, has my son discussed this relationship with his bodyguard?"

"Mr. President, any conversation I have with a client is confidential unless it involved abuse or an illegal activity. Chip has been instructed not to use names."

"So he has! He just hasn't said it's Looper," Alain assumed.

"That's not what I said, sir. I advise all my patients of the boundaries of their disclosures. I'm not implying that your son has said anything about his sexuality or relationships."

"Quick fishing!" Mary scolded again. "We're not in a court room and Looper is not under suspicion here."

Alain held up his hands as if to surrender to his wife's demands. He respected Looper too much to see him go. He well knew his children would blame him if Looper was dismissed.

"Look, all I'm saying here is, my son is not gay. By God, he's even had intercourse with a girl. If that isn't straight, I don't know what else is. I saw it myself. Now tell me what gay boy can get it up for a set of tits if he's attracted to his own sex?"

The First Lady was astounded. "I don't know how you'd know that, but having sex with a girl would be the last thing on our son's mind."

"Ask him," the president dared.

"If I may," Dr. Vance interjected and held up her arms for calm.

Her colleagues would never believe that she witnessed a husband and wife fight between the president and first lady.

"Most gay males can have intercourse with a female. It means nothing but a notch in their reputation or an orgasm to that individual. Their true attraction would have an entirely different meaning. Attraction is built more on passion, not an arousal."

President Carver checked his watch. He smacked his lips as if all that preceded this was a waste of his time.

"Whatever is going on in my son's mind can be solved with a little discipline and control. I have to tour over a tristate area next week. I'll take the boy with me and we'll have a father and son chat. That will settle this once and for all."

"Great!" Mary spoke out in disagreement. "I'll have to come and rescue our son when you two come to blows. Chipper is too strong willed to let you barrel over him with your homophobia. You have to change your thinking about how you view homosexuality before we can move forward. I won't have Dr. Vance come and waste her valuable time when you won't listen."

Alain glanced at Dr. Vance, either for verification or an accusation that she started this mess. He stood up, shook her hand, and departed. Only the ladies remained, but Mary was open for suggestions, but she was close to crying.

Finally the psychiatrist suggested, "Let's watch the dust settle, Mrs. Carver, then we will meet again when minds are much clearer. Your husband is going to have to have reality slap him in the face. Though I can't reveal any conversations that your son and I have had, I must ask you if any adult appears to have too much influence in the boy's life?"

Mary didn't have to ponder that one. "Well, Looper, that's Agent McElroy. He and Chip are almost inseparable. They have a unique friendship. Is there a problem I should know about?"

"Don't panic. This might not be anything. Do you think there's any inappropriate behavior involved in this friendship?"

Mary was more than appalled at such a suggestion. "Not likely. I mean, sure, they're alone a lot, but Looper is, well, I've never heard him talk about girls, but, I highly doubt...I can always ask him. Looper and I converse frequently about the children. You have raised the concern. Has my son inferred as such?"

"Oh, no, he only admits...I'm on a slippery slope here, that an older person may have educated him in adult behavior. We all want what's best for our children. Looper sounds like a dynamic, well-intentioned individual. It's important that your children receive emotional support and love, but....."

Mary interrupted. "Dr. Vance, my children are immensely happy and well adjusted. I mean, sure, Chip has problems with his father, but he loves Looper and would be devastated if I'd come between the two. The boy is sixteen and quite capable of saying yes or no to any proposition. Sexual behavior is hardly adult oriented, so I'm not sure what you mean by that. What kids learn from the Internet these days hardly requires an adult to demonstrate. God knows my son tells me no to a dozen things I want him to do. He has chores and responsibilities, but I do allow him to make important decisions."

"Is sex one of these important decisions?"

Mary had to consider her words. "Tacitly I have. I suppose I should be embarrassed that my children have not asked me for advice or permission. I'm not a helicopter parent who smothers her children and saves them when they make a mistake. I hope they learn from their mistakes and I'm only too happy to allow them to make them. Looper is not one of those mistakes, I guarantee you."

"Does your son visit anyone on Capitol Hill?"

"Well, yes. He's good friends with Senator Addling. Is there a problem there?"

"Again I can't reveal. Any friendship must be examined for its positives and negatives. The man may be an ideal influence for the boy, or he might be taking advantage of a teenager who idolizes him. My professional obligation is to promote mental sanity and good health. To be totally objective, a choice of a partner in a sexual relation becomes more significant only because our culture here in America demands that there be a particular choice in this matter. In my own experience, many boys have benefited from such experiences. I'm not about to tell you that your son has been emotionally damaged for life. I'm only making you aware of the possibilities so you won't be shocked if certain truths arise."

Mary understood confidentiality. She also knew the message being conveyed. Her knock on her Chip's bedroom door went unanswered. Invading her son's domain was a rare feat. Mary entered and saw only an open laptop. She might have even turned right around if there wasn't a nude picture as his screensaver for his computer. A closer look and the naked boy was her son, his face close to the web cam so only one eye was apparent. Behind the head was a sleek back to a rounded butt above two knees barely raised. The pose was in invitation. Absolutely sexy, Mary surmised and not because the boy was her own. A slight smile creased her lips. How could any gay man not blink their eyes?

Mary saw the little mail icon across the bottom of his computer. It had a one on the icon signifying an incoming. She brought the mail to life. The nude picture had actually been sent, but to whom? The return email was from an address she didn't recognize. It simply said, [Don't play hard to get--u know u like it].

This was totally out of her character. To spy on her children had never been an option. Mary brought up her son's previous email to this person. [Guess what? U can't have it]

The First Lady had many choices. Sure she could copy the email and have it checked for the owner. Her son would never forgive her. A mother and son's relationship couldn't be kept on mistrust or a betrayal of such magnitude. Chip would tell her, Mary assured herself and departed. Her search for her eldest son was quickly redirected by an agent on first second floor. Chip was in the basement with Looper.

FLOTUS traipsed to an area she rarely had visited. The more she thought about what they might be doing the faster she walked. Reservations crossed her mind; to catch Chip in an embarrassing position might do more damage than a verbal inquiry. How far should a mother go in protecting a sixteen-year old? Mary challenged herself for answers, but based on what? Then she saw a staff member with a cigarette in his mouth, a no-no in the White House. He apologized profusely, but Mary had other things on her mind. At least the violator pointed toward a supply room.

Before the First Lady opened the door she promised herself not to get hysterical. It wasn't like she didn't know what males do with each other. Looper, of course, would have to be let go. Possibly, and just possibly, the two could see each other once in a while. She pulled the double doors open and there stood three boys and a man in martial arts robes, at least that's what Mary called them.

"Hi, Mom! What are you doing here?" Philly asked.

"I..I overheard someone talking about, well, what is this?" Mary asked politely.

So relieved she started to giggle like a little girl. Looper had a white gi with a black belt around his waist, while the other boys had white belts.

"Well, ma'am, your sons and Yuri, here, have asked me to teach them how to defend themselves. I'm sorry for not getting your permission."

"Oh, Looper, you know I trust you in whatever you feel is best for the boys. That's quite all right. I had no idea my sons were at all interested."

"We're just finishing, Mom," Chip said, bowed to their sensei and moved off to a corner of the room where boxes were neatly stacked after the boys made the room into a dojo with mats obtained by Looper from a dojo in town that had just shut down.

While the boys moved away, Mrs. Carver moved toward Looper. The man's chest was glistening with sweat and she caught herself staring at the muscular Adonis. A teen's butt and a man's muscular chest were almost beyond sexual excitement.

"Yes, ma'am, did you need to speak with me?"

"If you're done, I would like to ask you something." Mary was extremely pleased that her sons might benefit from this discipline.

Across the room both Chip and his brother began to disrobe from their gi. Yuri was more hesitant.

"But your mother is still here," Yuri said.

Chip glanced over and dropped his gi bottoms to reveal total nudity. They were told by Looper that nothing should bind them underneath their gi.

"It's not like my mother hasn't had four kids, Yuri. Gee, she's seen a lot of dick before."

The boys laughed and Yuri stripped after a simple explanation. Out of the corner of her eye Mary saw the pink bodies of three boys. She couldn't help but look and appear flush. Her sons were growing into manhood, but Chip's absence of pubic hair surprised her. He was as long as his father, while Yuri had a slight patch with a penis half as long as her sons.

"If you're wondering why the boys don't wear underwear, it's best in total freedom. Don't want to upset Japanese tradition." Looper chuckled with his explanation.

Mary caught herself in her stare. "Yes, of course. That makes sense. Anyway, Looper, I've been meaning to ask....," She fought for the right words. "Do you love my son?" Wow! She said it but then backtracked as to define that most interesting work. "That came out wrong. I mean, how special is my son to you?"

Looper was certainly caught off guard. He didn't stutter, though his mind was racing. "Yes, I do, ma'am. I mean I love him. I'd give my life for the boy than to see any harm come to him."

"Okay, I understand that. It's your job, what you've been trained to do. But do you love my son?"

"The boys mean a lot to me, so, yes, Chip has always been special to me. I presume that's what you mean by love."

"Thank you for saying that, Looper. Has Chip told you that he is gay?"

Looper didn't hesitate. "Of course, but I've respected this as not to reveal his secret. Is this something he has talked to you about?"

"He has, actually." Mary had forgotten, or now lacked the nerve to take this in a different direction. "You are practically part of our family, Looper. I believe my sons love you, too, especially Chip. How do you handle that?"

Looper was a well-trained, professional agent of the U.S. government. For this moment he felt vulnerable, as if his own mother was before him. He had rarely revealed his true nature. She either suspected or knew something. His whole career was on the line at this very moment. The one thing Looper had was respect for himself. His honesty should never be put to question.

"Mrs. Carver, I am also gay. I spent much of my adolescence hiding or feeling ashamed of my desire for love and sex with other males. Love challenges us like nothing else in life. Through love we face our fears and childhood wounds, to confront conflict, to live more fully, to know ourselves and to stretch and grow in the most amazing ways. I've tried to convey that to your son. I believe our relationship is built on a belief that we know each other very well. His problems are my problems. His emotions become my emotions and vice versa. Gay people share a unique bond that few understand. Chip always knows where to get his answers and who he can always depend on. If I've overstretched my boundaries I apologize and will accept the inevitable."

Mary was so taken back, so speechless, she stood there in awe. Was this a confession? A plea for mercy? This wasn't what she expected. A simple denial would have sufficed and put the matter to rest.

"Looper, thank you for your honesty. That took great courage. Let me speak with my son. As a mother I am still learning, trying to understand my role and my children's needs. You are one courageous man to say all that. I think my sons are very lucky to have you in their lives."

She actually leaned forward and kissed his cheek. Back on the family floor the First Lady sat on her son's bed, waiting for him and Philly to finish showering. The nude picture was ever present and so was that cute rear end. Looper had whisked Yuri back to the embassy on 16th Street.

Whether Chip was trying to give his mother a show, or had conceded that it no longer mattered, he strolled out of the boys' shared bathroom while drying himself off, his nudity in full view. He tossed his towel on the bed and said without a smile, "A massage isn't necessary, woman, but we martial artists do need our recovery."

Mary reached up and smacked her son on his bare ass and then pushed him on the bed. He lay there on his stomach expecting either a spanking or attention. From a photo to the real thing, Mrs. Carver tried to remember her honeymoon and the boys' father's first exhibitionism. She was impressed then and it still invigorated her.

"Well, it's not like I haven't given your father a few massages."

She dried the son's back and legs, something she hadn't done since he was seven. Her fingers began kneading his shoulders between her fingers like she was shaping dough in the kitchen. A cooking art she hadn't done in years. To have a naked sixteen-year old before her made her feel thirty years younger.

"Tell me about this martial arts thing," Mary said.

Chip reached for his pillow to stuff underneath his head. He melted to his mother's touch. His facial position caught the computer screen on. Probably what his mother wanted to talk about.

"Looper is teaching us a combination of arts: Aikido, judo, Wushu, tai kwon do, and Brazilian wrestling. It's so cool. We learned how to fall today, and we started on a throw and takedowns. We're going to do this three times a week."

"What do I owe Looper?"

Chip hadn't thought about that. "I don't think he's expecting anything, Mom."

"You do know he's off at four. This is on his time."

"Looper's a bachelor, Mom. He's got nothing better to do. He has a boyfriend. Oops, I wasn't supposed to say anything. Forget I said that."

"Looper told me he's gay. I have no problem with that. How do you feel knowing your best friend is gay?"

"Oh, great, another psychologist on my case."

"Sorry. You do love Looper, though."

Chip wasn't biting. "Looper massages my buns almost as good as you do." He giggled in his pillow. Actually it was true.

Mary gobbled those puffy, pink cheeks in her hand and made mincemeat of those powerful muscles. "No, I'm serious. Two gay guys don't just sit around and compare notes."

Chip whipped his head around. "Dr. Vance has been talking, hasn't she? What ever happened to patient confidentiality? That's the last time I'm speaking to her! She had no right to say anything to you, and I certainly didn't tell her that Looper and I were having sex."

"She hasn't said anything that you discussed with her. There were concerns with no names attached. I'm prying, that's all. Looper loves you, he told me, and I think the feeling is mutual. Is it wrong for a teenager to want affection from an adult? You tell me. I'm perfectly neutral about it."

Mary felt bad that she might be lying to her son. She was uneasy about this thought of a man making love to her son.

"No judgment?" Chip asked looking back and tightening his gluteus in his mother's hands. They were slightly smacked with a nod of her head.

Chip was quiet for a few seconds. "Did you know, Mom, that in the Netherlands sex between adults and children ages 12 to 16 are legal as long as there is mutual consent?"

"Didn't know that," Mary said and moved to the boy's hamstrings.

She noticed the delicate nature of his scrotum between his legs. A tickle got a giggle that she expected.

"See, if the kid feels he or she was coerced, they can complain. Great system if you ask me. It allows a kid to express their sexuality and own their own body. You know, take responsibility and ownership of your sexuality."

"Interesting. Do you think a child or an adolescent, in this case, could consent, not because they were forced to, but because they didn't understand enough not to?"

Chip pondered his mother's question. The massage was certainly relaxing him.

"What if, Mom, it wasn't the sex itself, but the meaning of the experience. I mean, we each have to think about what we're doing and how we feel about what happened and how these feelings make me feel about myself and the other person. Like, what if a kid really enjoys having sex with adults and even seeks it out? No one seems to care that a boy, having discovered sex and pleasure, simply wants it because they enjoy it. What have thousands of years of man-boy love taught us? Is sex really that verboten that others have to make that decision for an adolescent?"

"I commend you for your vocabulary." Mary manipulated her son's foot to where he began to purr.

"English grade? A, if you remember. Age is not relevant here, you realize that."

"Are you at that age?" Mary asked.

"I was at that age when I was Philly's age, Mom. Actually sooner."

Mrs. Carver chuckled, well aware that boys differ from girls on this topic. "Don't you think an adult, how should I say this, lowers themselves to a child's expectations?"

Chip spread his legs, allowing his inner thighs to be molded to putty.

"When I was a kid, Mom, I didn't have expectations because I didn't know anything about sex. I desperately wanted to know and experience sex, but does a kid have expectations about anything? Little League? Pop Warner? Music lessons? Isn't it natural to just want to see how we measure up? If we're good enough? How do we compare to others? I expect to be treated fairly, not yelled at or beaten. I expect to be given a fair chance. I expect that the coach won't laugh at me. I expect at some point I'm going to figure out whether I'm good at this or not. I don't think Loo..., any adult would jeopardize their self-esteem by doing things which would make me think less of them. I have never viewed sex as distasteful or nasty, and I really like being loved and wanted by an adult. You learn to share yourselves, give and take, have empathy, and finally realize that sex really isn't all that's it's made out to be. Sure it's fun. Why do we have to keep it all secret? Why can't I tell you how great being a bottom is, or that there was this joke right in the middle of getting a blow job that made us stop and laugh? While my peers play games in their attempts to sexualize girls, then lie about their success, I feel really satisfied that I can climb into the arms of a man and, best yet, he loves me for who I am."

Mary searched for the loopholes in her son's logic. Without some sort of moral condemnation by those waving their Bibles, her son was absolutely right.

"Don't you think a sexual experience might be more beneficial with someone your own age?"

"Been there, done that, Mom. No one talks. You're afraid of being rejected, and you're sure the other kid has no idea what he's doing. Blind teaching the blind. It's why so many teenage girls get pregnant. Yuri was as dumb as I was until I taught him, Mom. How's a kid gonna learn about sex if he isn't taught by an expert who is patient and gentle. An adult doesn't want to scare or hurt us. Their only point is to show us that sex is very pleasurable and rewarding. Now tell me what kid has that in mind? Porn isn't any fun, except to play with myself. I'm an expert at that."

Chip lifted his body sideways, revealing an erection, but that wasn't his attention. He had a point to make.

"Don't worry, Mom, I'm still your innocent baby, not because I'm stupid of my sexuality, but because I haven't had a partner who's cheated on me or treated me cruel. See, your massage is so cool that my body has come alive. Do you really think that a kid has the skill or the want to do it right? You've answered your own question."

Chip's mind went to the senator, but that wasn't really cruel; the guy was like a lot of husbands in their haste to get their rocks off.

"You know, Mom, I'd rather be an adult who loves a kid like me than be someone who cheats on his wife and is perpetually selfish."

The First Lady pressed her son prone again, then ran her fingers up and down his back like a running spider. The boy purred. She smacked her lips when she couldn't think of a retort.

"And you know someone who has done this? These husbands that you're so sure about?"

Chip didn't raise his head up. "Dad. I can read, Mom. Why do adults want to talk to their kids about sex, like I'm fair game for his position on religion or his value system. He's a hypocrite. It pisses me off."

The boy had her, and Mary knew it. She was in charge of an adolescent with an all-out libido. She could protect and control it only so far. Her reaction was to fear, not love. What was there to fear? Looper? Her son being gay? Not hardly. The immediate reaction was that something bad had happened to her son, the fact that he was sexually active with an adult she trusted. Wasn't it human nature to want to engage in a search for meaning, to understand how or even why the event occurred and what its implications for Chip's life would be?

"Let that problem be your mother's, okay? Look, kiddo, maybe our most important freedom is emotional freedom, that freedom to act as we wisely choose, taking into account the limitations imposed by society which you seem to negate. I agree that these rules should be flexible, depending upon the child. You've taken a free rein of your sexual feelings because you haven't been thwarted by adult prohibitions. I'm not going to tell you that your sexual expression is wrong or bad. God knows I don't want a neurotic son with psychic stress. I don't want you to have obsessive behavior that is destructive to you or others."

Chip arched his back up, then flipped over, his boner flipped upwards.

"Thanks, Mom, for understanding. Could you do my front now?"

Chip got his mother blushing. She threw his towel over the member, then tickled his ribs to get him laughing. Though the towel was a tent pole, she massaged his thighs.

"Three questions. Pubic hair, computer screen, and what's this about having sex with a female? I thought you were immune to the opposite sex."

Chip knew where that had come from, just not why. "Angela wanted it. A gay boy has to be flexible. As to the pubic hair, Chelsea is tougher than I am. It's why I'm taking martial arts so she can't pin me down again and have her way. Don't worry, we didn't do the incest thing."

Mrs. Carver put a hand over her mouth. "My babies are sexual connoisseurs. Where have I been not to notice this? That delicate Angela. You were nice to her, right? She's so innocent, though."

"Mommm, it's the innocent ones you have to watch out for," Chip kidded.

He enjoyed making his penis twitch the towel back and forth to embarrass his mother. "What to see how nurses eliminate erections?" Mary asked.

Chip covered his erection. "Don't you dare. Willie here just wants massaged to."

"Don't make me call Looper or Yuri. I didn't mean that."

"That's okay, Mom." Chip sat up and hugged his mother. "I love you. Thanks for listening."

He stood up. The towel dangled from his erection, but he got a smile for the trick. The First Lady started to depart but then remembered.

"And the computer screen? You know how authorities view sexting."

"That's not fair to kids, Mom. Sexting is just another way of saying, I'll show you mind if you show me yours. It's the electronic age and we've invented a new way of getting right to it without the words."

"If you don't become a lawyer, young man, you will have missed your calling. May I ask who to?"

"Senator Addling. He wants my ass and he ain't getting it."

The first lady never expected for her son to be completely honest. The words actually shocked her.

"No more visits to his office. I never respected the man and he's obviously cheating on his wife if he expects to have sex with you. Will you do your mother that favor?"

"No problem, Mom. I get plenty of sex without visiting that buffoon. I know everything about the Capitol anyway. There are a few teens as aides around there that will replace me. I mean, if I was going to do that."

Mary shook her head but this mother and son union had advanced to a very high level of honesty. Any further admonishment would serve no purpose. She left her son's bedroom with a smirk that her role as a mother had taken gigantic steps. Never in her wildest imagination did she ever think that her eldest son would be that open and honest with her. To betray this love would be disastrous. No more than she was contemplating this thought when Looper was upon her in the hallway. His serious demeanor bothered her instantly.

"Ma'am, I'm going to forward my resignation immediately. I would never do anything to offend this family and especially yourself. I think the world of you and your family."

Mary cupped Looper's elbow and hauled him into a guest bedroom beyond the ears of other staff in the area.

"Young man, you're not going anywhere. What are you trying to do, crush my son's heart? You haven't dishonored or caused me dismay over anything you've done. Forget that stupid idea of any resignation! You will be here tomorrow promptly to take my children to school. Do we understand each other?"

"Yes, ma'am." Looper was near tears with Mrs. Carver's hug.

"Another thing, Mr. McElroy. Expect an additional couple hundred dollars for your extra time teaching my sons and a cute Russian boy how to defend themselves. Hopefully there won't be any more black eyes around here. Those lovely pajamas the boys wear, well, I know they must cost money. I'll leave a check for those in your box. You can pick that up in the morning. I will ask one favor from you, though. My son is no longer allowed to visit Senator Addling's office again. Do we understand each other about this? What's got into everyone around here? Someone brings up sex and it's panic time."

"Of course," Looper replied. "I mean about the understanding, not about the sex part. Should I check in on the boy before I leave?"

"He would be highly appreciative for your appearance. It is raining outside and you have my permission to spend the night. Don't you two stay up all hours because there's school tomorrow."




Chapter Twenty-Two


"Brainiac's class will be at the Kennedy Center this morning," the Detail commander noted the school activity to his sub-detail chiefs, one being Looper.

Being in elementary school, her two female agents were far more sensitive to a girl's needs than their male counterparts. These detail groups met every morning at five, often in the kitchen where they could munch on donuts and sip coffee together. At this early hour Looper was feeling a few sore muscles from the previous days workout.

With only five hours of sleep he had slipped out of Chip's room without waking the teenager or being observed by the orderly in the hallway. Not in his wildest imagination had he thought that the First Lady was all but giving him permission to sleep with her son.

Chip had been the aggressor from second one. Already naked and erect Looper barely got a word out when he was grabbed by the belt and tossed on the bed. Chip didn't ask for an explanation or was even aware that Looper had just spoken with his mother. Horny and wanton Chip had his favorite man at his fingertips and he was tired of verbal debate; he desired physical response. Heavy kissing and a rush to disrobe his sensei, he sat on Looper's waist and acted crazy in abandon with his antics. Two orgasms each left them in each other's arms for touch-and-go soft kisses until they fell asleep without concern of being caught.

Looper never had a chance to find out what this was all about. Had the boy admitted their affair to his mother? What could have convinced her to be so permissive? How did she know about Senator Addling?

There was also a new player--Zach. A new sexual outlet that was quite satisfying, he was sure that the man had waited at Looper's condo for his arrival. A text at midnight was kind of late in notifying his new boyfriend that he wouldn't be home. Now he had to explain where he had spent the night.

Zach had yet to ask how close of a relationship his boyfriend had with Chip, but the suspicions were there. Was it possible to love two people at the same time? And could he give up Chip? These were not decisions he was prepared to make.

Looper's arrival in the Detail Room raised a few eyebrows. He was unshaven and appeared to have just crawled out of bed. No one dared to make assumptions. They were all aware of the new dojo in the basement. One agent even commented that Looper had slept there because of the amount of work needed to make it look presentable and safe. That made sense to most of the agents.

As his body came to life after the first cup of coffee Looper had to rub more than one muscle. It had been several years since he'd practiced or even demonstrated judo falls. The workouts would do him good but the commitment meant even more time at the White House. That might not sit too well with Zach, Looper considered. He had to contrive a fair arrangement to keep this man in his life.

"Outside of this school excursion, another routine day, I presume," Looper replied to the topic left for agent input.

The Detail commander's agenda didn't exactly show routine.

"Maybe for your boy, but not for All-Star. He has a flag football game against Eagleton Academy at three-thirty. We'll need four agents at the game. I want two on the border, two on the sideline. Eagleton is known for their cheap shots on our kids. Let their coach know we won't tolerate any rough play."

Stan Ewings was this responsible agent, responsible for Philly's life at school. The agent nodded, not always looking forward to away games or class field trips.

"The boy is a good quarterback, quick and agile. We could put a red jersey on him, as a don't touch warning," Stan offered in humor.

"The boy's no sissy. The last kid who knocked him down got a football in the balls on the next rush. Compared to his brother, the kid has a set," Frank Ashler said as a way of sticking it to Looper, who he envied for being too close to the family.

Looper's eyes were daggers to his peer. "Don't underestimate the kid. His heart is as big as they get."

The commander broke in before this became personal. "And Cheerleader has a home basketball game," the commander added going down his list.

As a junior in high school Chelsea required a different mentality amidst her protectors. Boys were paying close attention to this attractive young lady. Both Chelsea and her younger sister Melissa were budding targets for hormonal boys. Chelsea had a crush on a senior boy and they were caught behind the auditorium curtain the previous day. She made great attempts to avoid detection.

"If you have to, we'll put Andrea on her," Commander Higgins added.

"She doesn't like me," Andre admitted. "She oughta be glad I'm not her mother. Girls are way too daring compared to when I was in high school."

"Things have changed since the forties," Frank shot from the hip.

Like Looper, Andrea found this agent a pain in the ass. "Yes, you'd know all about that. Oh, wait, what would you know about girls? They avoided you like the plague."

"People! Let's focus here. We make sure the outer perimeter is secure, then we won't have to worry about who we have seated in the bleachers. That goes for both Cheerleader and All-Star. Got it?"

"That football field has unlimited exposure from different angles," Stan warned. "We could use one more agent."

Looper saw a pair of eyes dart at him. "I suppose we can do with one on the perimeter. I'll see if First Boy wants to watch his brother play football."

The crew gradually separated out into the hallway to begin their day when the children woke up. Commander Higgins kept Looper behind. All possibilities flashed through Looper's mind. The "what if's" of someone knowing he had stayed in Chip's bed all night. He couldn't exactly say he had the first lady's permission.

"Wenzel, a reporter called me last night. Said that one of their editors was at the Capitol yesterday and spotted someone who looked like Chip Carver on the steps, talking to a Chinese gentleman. He wants to know what is going on. I told him you would be in touch. Make it another school project. It usually works. Just remember it's your ass on the line here if this blows up in our faces. You might be on a real goose chase with your conspiracy theories."

"I know. I'll talk to the Post. They're constantly in our underwear, thinking we're up to something."

"We are," his boss reminded him.

Left in the kitchen by himself Looper kicked himself for allowing Chip to wear a sports' hat and the sunglasses he wore at the game. Then there was the frustration that Chung was no longer wearing his jacket with the GPS attached. They were losing touch with where the man's journeys were at night without an electronic tracer. How the man knew about the First Lady redecorating a few rooms presented a quagmire. It wasn't exactly a secret, but why would he care and he certainly wasn't in the travel business. Then Chung was specific on when Chip had to do the tour, the twenty-fourth. Looper checked his schedule: Campaign tour through Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois, Monday through Wednesday with his sons. They would return on Wednesday evening; Thanksgiving on Thursday with the Prime Minister and his family; the Russian president arrives on Friday for a three-way colloquy. That was on the 24th. Way too coincidental. Anyone could read about the president's itinerary in the news.

Looper's concentration was interrupted when he was goosed. He spun around and saw Philly's face, all smiles. Obviously this boy wasn't lectured or run through an inquisition like his older brother had.

"Morning, Peyton Manning, or is it Eli? I always forget."

Looper hugged the boy because no one was around. Philly was so down-to-earth compared to his older sibling. He loved because it seemed like the thing to do at the moment. As Ariel as a boy can get it was just a matter of time until some girl sParkerd his interest. Philly grinned with the affection.

Always the first one up, he knew where donuts would be at this early morning hour. He watched Looper sit and begin a diagram on the boy's chest.

"Check this out, kiddo. You're quarterback, two wide-outs, and I'm your main receiver. Balls hiked, (a giggle because an index finger ran down between the boy's nipples) you lateral to your halfback, breaking right. He runs five yards, stops, laterals back. Your left wide receiver, that's me, does a S pattern and breaks over the middle. You hit him with an easy touchdown pass, right here."

Looper swung his finger up under the boy's chin into his nose. Philly laughed that precious giggle that had yet deepened. It made Looper's day. A kiss to the eye sent that giggle even higher. Why he even considered that he could leave these two boys had to be a moment of insanity.

Not having to worry about a field trip or another sporting event, except a post-school football game, Looper's day was just mundane. That is until physical education class. Basketball drills were running without hassle until Chip and the boy who had punched him the previous week began to check each other with fouls. Their coach sat them both down.

In the locker room it started again, both boys in their jock straps, not even making the shower room. This time Looper stepped between them before anything physical happened.

"Always got your buddy interfering, Carver!"

"Bring it on, Sturges, you lame piece of shit!"

"Enough, you two. What's it going to take, blood?" Looper asked. "You're both too hot-headed to find some good in each other."

"It'll be the faggot's blood," Sturges spoke and Looper's grip on the boy's shoulder just seemed to tighten to make this kid wince.

"Fuck! Get your creepy hands off of me!" Sturges yelled at the agent.

Chip leaped for the boy, but Looper caught him mid-flight, swung him up over his shoulder and hauled his ass to the bleachers to cool down. Sitting midway up these wooden bleachers, Chip moped dressed only in a jock.

"I didn't start it. No one calls you creepy. I'll beat his brains in."

"I think I can defend my honor, but thank-you nonetheless. You might not have started it but he reeled you in damn quick. You have no patience or focus. How can I teach you if you're not in control of yourself?"

"I am"

"No way"


"How can you learn a martial art when you lack balance?"

"I do"

"No way"


And on it went for ten minutes. Physical education was always last period and rumor spread quickly through the school that Chip Carver was sitting in the gym with just a jock on. Kids began strolling by, glancing through the door windows to view this near naked teen. Chip could have cared less. Only a few of his peers actually caught his ass being marched back into the locker room by one of his security detail.

Leaving at halftime of the football game, there were enough agents attending because it was football that Looper wasn't really needed. They were the first ones back at the White House.

Looper hadn't said a word in the vehicle, nor had Chip. Inside the hallway Chip stopped right in front of Looper, making the man bump into him.

"See you in the dojo in five minutes. Be there!" Chip said as a challenge.

"Don't wuss out!" Looper shouted back.

This was not a scheduled workout and there would be no Philly or Yuri. Already dressed in his gi, Chip walked in and saw his sensei standing on the mat, like this was really going to be a fight. They both knew the score.

"Teach me," Chip said and bowed. "If Sturges had done this, what should I learn to do?"

Chip let go a round house to Looper's face. It was only attempted as a half-ass effort, but Looper spun the boy so fast in a shoulder throw that Chip had no idea what happened. He'd forgotten how to slap from all the previous lessons. The throw hurt and had knocked the wind out of him. A lot of boys might have quit. Not Chip Carver.

An hour of repetitious parries, takedowns, and reaction drills had two males sweating underneath their gi. Chip had been slapped so many times his cheek was a constant red. An advantage, Looper already had memorized, he knew Sturges' style, how the boy swung, stood, and recovered after he punched. He'd seen it all in that split second before intervention.

Arms tired, legs wobbly, Chip was on his last legs in a fifteen-round fight, but he kept wanting more. Tears were always a second away, then they came as the final source of energy to parry Looper's hand to his face, a grab of the wrist, movement to allow the second reaction to carry forward to off-balance, then a takedown. As any coach desired a successful finish and confidence, Looper went with the throw to surrender in defeat. The boy's tears turned to a smile, a smile that he'd done something right. Sure, Looper had eased up and made the action flow, but it still took timing and technique from Chip to finish.

Both males were pooped, sweating, and their gi flopped in disarray. Chip stepped over to the light switch, flipped it off, then came back to peel off his sensei's gi. Down on his knees, he brought the man to erection and near orgasm. Hard and lubricious, Looper lifted the teen, turned him against the wall and penetrated him. Kisses to a sweaty neck and back led to their mouths lusting for the thrusts of tongues. Unable to prolong this copulation, Looper ejaculated with dynamic pounds into muscular flesh. His legs shaking, a body alive with electrical charges, Looper dropped to his knees to lick the sweaty cum from the wet hole. Spinning the teenager around, Looper deep throated the full length, barely holding the gag reflex. Hot jism shot down his throat amidst a pair of hands that held the man's throat captive to the ejaculation.

Both judoka panted. They dropped to the cool tatami, one on top of the other.

"I want you all the time," Chip said from his top position, his still hardened groin sprayed out over a full bush of manly sex. Looper squeezed the boy to his body, making them a solid, sweaty mass.

"If you were ten years older I'd be proposing to you about now."

"I'd like that," Chip said into a nipple by his mouth.

He licked it and made the nob grow in his mouth. A knock on the door preceded its opening. Both males froze, a mere six feet to the side. The hallway's light shone a wide view, but not on them. If the person switched on the light, no explanation or school project would suffice.

"They must have finished," the voice of the Chief Usher said to someone. He closed the door and two lovable males giggled.

Chip spent the evening, even at the dining room table, swirling his arms in the air, either like paint brushes or, as Melissa thought, swatting mosquitoes away. The boy was smitten by the instruction and his instructor.

With the president and first lady out of town on a political function, the boys jacked up their speakers with guitar sounds of Stevie Ray Vaugh. No one was around to yell at them about the noise.

While doing his homework Chip couldn't get his mind off of marriage and the "what if's" of age difference. Chip knew it was ridiculous of him to even think of marrying Looper, though Susan Ford had married her Secret Serviceman. Yes, he was in love with the man, desired him every second, but he was only a sophomore in high school. A wishful dream.

Happiness and contentment were soon disrupted when his sixteen-year old friend at the Capitol twitted him. Robby Kent was one of the more popular aides doing his internship with the aspirations of entering public service after college. Robby was also involved with a few congressmen and another intern. A handsome, athletic built teen, Robby was passed around like a work of art, secretly, that is.

>>>Think I saw yur pic on my Con. Stewart's comp, givin' head to yourself. Great flex, dude!<<<

Chip was pissed. There was only one way that that congressman would get that picture. In seconds Chip had the congressman's Web site and downloaded the video of the senator fucking him. He made sure to edit out his face. It took a half hour for one United States Congressman to contact one United States Senator and tell his colleague that someone had posted a porno of him fucking someone pretty young.

Senator Addling hit the roof. The senator didn't bother with texting. He went right to calling the boy's cell number.

"Listen, young man, what the fuck do you think you were doing placing a bug in my office?!"

Senator Addling had never spoken to him in this tone of voice.

Chip got a back bone. "You asked for pictures of me, so it's only fair."

That was kinda weak, Chip thought, but two-way streets were far safer.

"You and your old man have far more to lose than I do, Carver! Don't let me hear that you have given anyone else that film. I want you to give me that video and don't you dare make a copy!"

"It seems to me that you started this. No one asked you to give my pictures away."

"You have no idea who you're messing with, you stupid boy! I don't need assholes questioning whether I received child porn. Just stay away from my office or I'll have your father impeached for having an idiot for a son!"

Chip saw the red light of his cell phone. It made for a dramatic ending. He felt rejected by someone who had been a good friend, given him tickets, and made him feel special around the Capitol. Was his dad's job really in jeopardy? Chip felt guilty about sending that video out, too quick to anger, just like Looper said. To bother Looper with this would be another black mark of immaturity. It wasn't something he could fix himself. Maybe Zach.

"Hi, Zach," Chip greeted.

"Evening. Is this the one and only Chip Carver?"

"Yeah, it's me, Lt. Stringer? Sorry for bothering you at this hour."

Zach checked his watch, nine o'clock. "Chip, how did you get my home number?"

"Well, I sometimes check Looper's wallet. I sort of copied it down."

"I doubt if Mr. McElroy knows that you rifle through his stuff. What can I do for you?"

"I have this problem," Chip started and explained the night's events and how he had filmed the sex in the senator's office at Looper's suggestion.

"You guys didn't?!" Zach thought about what his friend's intentions might have been.

"I did. I wanted to have something on him."

Chip further explained that he'd sent the video to a congressman.

"You didn't?!"

"Is that rhetorical?"

"We need to talk before this gets out of hand."

"Come to the gate. I'll make sure you get through."

Though the Secret Service didn't appreciate surprises or visits that weren't approved in advance, Chip rarely was refused visits from friends, except this one was a policeman. When Chip mentioned that he would call Looper if he had to, the agent in charge okayed the visit.

By the time Lt. Stringer arrived at the White House a light November snowfall had coated the streets. Chip was waiting at the North Portico with an umbrella. The first boy walked him to the second floor, where they went right to his bedroom.

"Eighty years ago people used to be able to come in the Executive Mansion and shake hands with the president. Now you practically have to have Congressional approval," Chip told Zach.

As they came to his room the teen added, "This used to be Quentin and Archie Roosevelt's room. They were so cool."

Zach was amazed at the boy's sense of history. When Chip sat on the bed Zach took the chair by the desk.

"Good to see you have clothes on," Zach said as a way to break the ice.

"I learned that from my father. When he talks business he keeps his clothes on. It's after when things get juicy."

"I appreciate the warning. Now, your friend's name is Robby Kent. Is he into modeling like yours truly?"

Chip found that humorous. "Modeling? That sounds cool, but no he isn't. I might recommend to him that he should use that as an excuse though."

They went over the senator's threats and what other pictures he had of Chip. This officer on the Sex Task Force wasn't pleased when Chip said the pictures had begun over a year earlier. They talked for about an hour; the seriousness of the situation was stressed over and over. Zach Stringer wasn't a rookie to politics, blackmail, and dirty little secrets among the elite. No one wanted or needed a sex debacle in Washington. Yes, the press and public would love a scandal of this magnitude, a time to point fingers at two conservative, Southern Republicans from the Bible Belt.

As Zach stood up from the boy's desk chair, Chip ran over and looked outside.

"Way too snowy. You're staying overnight. How about Lincoln's Room? Actually I was thinking of renaming my bedroom to honor the man."

Zach dismissed the request. "Your parents would love that! I'll make it home, but thanks."

"My parents are out of town. Look, Zach, this house is like a funeral home. It needs bodies; at least, live ones. There won't be a hassle, I promise. Get up early and leave. I have friends stay over all the time."

That was sort of a lie, but Chip didn't have time to define "all the time".

"I've heard about this Lincoln Room, but only if it's the original. I think we've touched on enough scandal for one night."

Chip snapped his fingers at is in disappointment. He led the detective out into the hallway to seek assistance. A Navy valet escorted the lieutenant to the Lincoln Room, which was used frequently as a real honor to the president's and first lady's friends. If Zach hadn't expected it, Chip's arrival a few minutes later didn't surprise him. The teenager was dressed only in his pajama bottoms, which, after he closed the door, slipped so low only his rising erection kept them from falling.

"Part of our service to make sure our company is comfortable. I brought you a toothbrush. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Zach frowned. Before him stood a long lanky body of perfection. Almost five-eleven of flesh, with a tan line that the boy had fashioned while on vacation with his family to Israel the past summer. The Carver children swam every day. Chip wore a European cut brief, while Philly went with American board shorts. Chelsea and Melissa had their bikinis to show off for the press who were lucky to have zoom lenses. Chip made several European and American magazines. The teen's lump in front of his briefs made more than just gay guys stare.

Tonight that tan line, though diminished by several months of no tanning, was still there. In only his underwear, already under the covers, Zach handled this situation with caution.

"Chip, my boy, you're a gay man's dream, but you know that. I'm a policeman, obligated to uphold the law. You're beautiful. Now pull those jams up and go to bed. I'm sure Looper wouldn't let you get away with this."

Chip raised his hands to behind his head, as if anymore display of thinness need offered. His pajama bottoms poked out obscenely, and there was no question he didn't have pubic hair.

"Your loss. Looper would have me in his hands. He's weak when it comes to boners."

He turned, exhibiting bare butt cheeks. As he walked toward the door the bottoms fell down, so he shuffled his feet. Zach finally laughed. At the door, Chip pulled them up, sent a flying kiss and asked one final question.

"So, if you weren't a policeman and, say, a Secret Serviceman, you'd make love to me?"

Zach sighed. "It would be my pleasure to protect you, Mr. Foxy."

The door closed and a full minute elapsed between this time and when Chip opened the door to allow the hallway's light to shine on the bed. Zach was stretched out in full masturbation. Covers flew up and three seconds of chaos.

"Caught ya! It's not too late. A gay boy just knows."

"Out!" Zach pointed and wondered if Abraham Lincoln would appreciate this scene on his bed. There were rumors Lincoln had been gay himself. Maybe his ghost was laughing inside that room at that very moment.

Zach was up early. He saw a blanket of snow out of his second floor window. He couldn't believe that he had spent the night in the White House, let alone in Lincoln's bedroom. Never in his life had he experienced such sexuality as in the president's son. So forward, so blatant of desire, the boy was a walking hard-on and a wet dream for any gay man. To resist such a temptation had required tremendous willpower, only to be caught in his arousal by the teenager's return.

When the lieutenant traipsed downstairs he was met by two Secret Service agents, quick to decipher why a policeman was called to the White House the previous night. He was taken to their immediate supervisor, a bald-headed, no-nonsense professional who ran a tight ship.

"Lt. Stringer, I presume?" the chief agent greeted with a warm smile. "First Boy, that's what we call Master Chip, has a reputation of breaking protocol. No fault of your own, sir. We'd prefer to keep this in-house, if you don't mind."

"Perfectly understood," Zach replied, then sat down and waited to run the problem to someone who he knew would resolve this quick and easy.

Looper arrived a few minutes later, surprised to see his close friend and current boyfriend present.

"What did he do now? Jump the fence?" Looper asked to tease his new friend to the supervisor.

The two men moved to a more secluded area. "Don't tell me, it's Chipper. Break it to me gently," Looper began in disappointment.

"Don't panic. The boy's fine." Zach stepped away from any listening ear to whisper, "He didn't want to bother you with another crisis. Chip thinks that you would find him a burden."

"Ridiculous! He knows me better than that."

Looper twisted his face as to question the teen's reasoning. Zach reiterated all that had happened, only to have Philly come bouncing in between them.

"Must be something really good for breakfast for both of you to be here," the boy said.

He turned toward Looper, then drew a football play on Looper's jacket, a flea flicker similar to the one Looper had thought of the day before. The play had won the game the previous day. It ended up with a finger in Looper's ear. Despite the turmoil the agent could still laugh at one of his charges.

Philly ran off to a Friday morning ritual he loved since living in the White House; he helped wind the dozens of clocks throughout the White House. Carrying his own small stool to reach the highest clocks, he raced up the Grand Stair to the second level, a staircase he'd slide down a few minutes later to the Chief Usher's annoyance.

"That boy loves you, too," Zach said in observance. "If I was a suspicious man I'd say you were the Pied Piper of the White House. What did you do to win their hearts?"

"Listen to those hearts," Looper said without thinking.

"I'm beginning to think I was the lucky up getting to meet you, Mr. McElroy."

"I was hoping you'd believe that," Looper replied.

When the children piled into their respective Chevy Suburban, Looper smiled at the first three, then patted his favorite on the top of the head. After minutes of contemplation he realized how Chip must think. They were, by all commonality, in love with each other. It was a type of love that was difficult at best, absurdly preposterous at its very core. The possibility of this love surviving until the boy was into college and beyond was highly unlikely. Someone else will come around to tickle this boy's fancy, to make his heart leap bounds of energy, and cause erections that were like a divining rod in its attraction.

Looper knew he was hired to protect these children, not to rescue them from every hurt or mend broken hearts or dreams. For Chip to continually come to his favorite man for help was like a needy child who couldn't survive without mother's arms. Looper pretended he wasn't privy to this new setback involving explicit pictures of the First Boy. If the public found out about the president's son sexual affairs, let alone graphic pictures of sexual acts, they'd crucify not only Chip but the First Family. The U.S. government protected their own.









Chapter Twenty-Three


No less a dynamic instrument of warfare and expounding American interests, the Secret Service was in and of itself a type of Mafia organization. A half dozen agents swooped upon Congressman Stewart's office and home within the hour, confiscated two computers and searched every square inch of his condominium in Silver Spring. Within a simple straw broom in a closet an agent found two, sixteen gig microchips. There would be no less than 12,000 porn pictures of boys.

The South Carolina Congressman had the common sense not to buck with the Secret Service. He wasn't happy that they carted off his gay collection of men's magazines, but he sensed these wouldn't become public knowledge, only used as leverage if the congressman pushed back.

After watching the agents climb in their car and leave he ran to the closet to discover the worse scenario--they found them. His stomach went to his bowels and he ran to the bathroom.

When it came to Senator Addling's office and residence, the scene took on a different dimension. Unlike public entities, such as the police department, the Secret Service often didn't bother with search warrants. This didn't escape the senator in his protest of being invaded by so many men in suits. Completely unwilling to cooperate with his threats of retaliation to exposing Chip, the president, and numerous elected officials, the detail went through the million dollar home in Reston with a fine tooth and comb. They discovered the senator's stash of porn in a safe that was built nondescript under a carpet in the office. Over 15,000 pictures and videos of boys were carefully boxed up.

"You planted those pictures!" the senator screamed in protest and knew he had successful grounds for a lawsuit or suppression of evidence once he obtained a lawyer.

Mrs. Addling knew nothing of her husband's proclivities, totally puzzled at this home invasion. Her husband had never been exactly a sexual animal. There had been boys he had brought home for dinner, often times sleeping over in a guest room. Of course the senator would have to check on the boy to make sure he was comfortable. He often wouldn't return to the master bedroom for an hour. She had suspicions, but what woman is going to cry foul when she lived in a wealthy neighborhood, went on lavish vacations and had an unlimited bank account?

"You boys don't know who you're messing with!" he yelled at the agents. "This is the end of your president and his snotty kid."

It was when the senator reached for his phone to call his lawyer when an agent said, "You're under arrest, Senator." Addling never got the chance to punch in his lawyer's number.

They quickly whisked the senator off in a black Ford, its windows darkened to avoid disclosure of the occupants. If the senator thought he was going to the FBI Headquarters or the Secret Service Building he was sorely mistaken. Squeezed between two muscular agents, one of them spoke the truth as it had come from his supervisor.

"You could have made this so much easier for yourself, Senator. Swallow your pride and there would have barely been a bump in the road."

"I'll have your job, as well, sonny," the senator snapped back.

The first stop was Andrew's Air Force Base, then a flight to Miami, where the senator was taken out to port and lifted aboard a yacht owned by the United States Navy. Senator Addling possessed a sixty-foot sailboard, docked off the coast of Annapolis. This superb looking boat had left its mooring soon after, as if the senator had decided to take a little vacation to the Bahamas. Unfortunately the boat nor the senator would make their eventual destination.

The United States Coast Guard received the S.O.S. call the following morning, only to find floating debris in the rough seas, but no remains or signs of survival. Mrs. Addling knew her husband's pension would make her life very comfortable in the coming years. Her story appeared to match that of the senator's office. Her husband had planned to sail to Bermuda over the weekend. She had not heard from him since.

Looper pulled Philly and Chip out of school before their last period. He had several reasons for his actions, but the main one was the prior arrangement for the two boys to pose for a painting. The two Carver daughters had already accomplished their sitting as a surprise for their parents' twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, a major celebration on the same day that the Russian President and England's Prime Minister would be present.

Both Philly and Chip were to wear blue Vandyke dresses and pose with their dog Stonewall at their feet. The portrait was to a near replica of Gainsborough's Blue Boy. In this case, two boys and a dog. The brothers weren't too keen on the selected outfits, though the girls loved the Pinkie dresses. As an agreement to pose, the artist relented to the boys' wishes to have another painting done for Looper. Though this famous artist was being paid $20,000 for the two paintings, Chip and Philly didn't know this. They offered the artist a collection of their weekly allowance, a savings of $200. An agreement was reached but, when he was finished, Pierre Don Migio wouldn't accept the money. In a few years he'd make lithographs of this artwork, then sell them for $5,000 each and make a mint. The artist laughed, blushed as it was with the request and prayed no one would ever find out.

After two hours of intense motionless sitting, the boys enjoyed an hour of training with Looper. The Secret Service agent made the workout fun, yet vigorous enough to tire the boys out. Chip wasn't sure what to expect after his discussion with Lt. Stringer. Robby Kent twittered his friend that evening and said that Stewart got busted and no one has seen the senator. He was glad that the agent who questioned him was very nice. Actually the agent had put his arm around the teenager with a squeeze that was near a vice. He asked him if he enjoyed being an aide and the perks that came with the service. Robby nodded and told the husky built man that he knew how to keep his mouth shut. There was only one little aspect to release the hold. The teen agreed to report every sexual contact with men in position of authority on Capitol Hill. While Robby Kent thought it was for the man's fantasy life, Chip knew all about the perimeters of smut on politicians.

Within the evidence seized by the Secret Service, Senator Addling had had his own video camera hidden within his office where he recorded more than one sexual escapade with at least three different teenage interns over the previous decade. His vast collection were personal photographs of his visits to Saudi Arabia and Turkey, two countries who supplied the senator with boys for evening pleasure. There were enough clues to begin a road map of pederasts and their suppliers. As far as the Secret Service was concerned, the matter was over and all evidence was subsequently destroyed.

The president and first lady arrived back in Washington that evening. They were told that everything had gone smoothly. As the holidays were just around the corner, Mrs. Carver looked forward to assisting the decoration of the family residence on the second floor. The remainder of the White House was left to the Chief Usher and his staff.

For six hours on Saturday and two on Sunday the Carver boys trained with Looper on his days off. So infatuated with this new aspect of their lives, their commitment even surprised Looper. Looper had even invited Zach to join them that Sunday in order to begin weapons training. Zach, a fencing expert, had also trained in kendo, Japanese swordsmanship, and nunchuks, two sticks held together by a cord. It made for humorous incidents by the boys giving themselves knocks on their head and bruises on their bodies. With both brothers starting on equal footing, it increased a loyalty between them.

Often into their own worlds the martial arts training was one of the first things that they shared together. On this Saturday evening when Philly climbed into his brother's bed, the purpose might have been to share Philly's excitement for what they were learning, but it also ended up in heated sex. Whether it can be said that they explored their love for each other, or that it was simply boys being horny, they each gained far more respect for each other than at any other times of their young lives. It was the first time that each of them admitted their love for each other.

Unlike his colleagues, Eddy Townsend, the boys' physical education teacher, appreciated the likes of Agent McElroy around. The agent's presence helped enforce discipline and enhanced the level of play. Eddy was quick to forgive any absence of Chip Carver due to any number of prior engagements that a member of the First Family may have. It just went with the territory.

Coach Townsend, as he was known by the boys, certainly didn't enjoy telling Agent McElroy that the Sturges' boy had told his father that the agent had laid hands on him while he was naked. The father had gone to the head master and requested that no other adult outside of the qualified teacher be allowed in the boys' locker room.

"As if that's going to happen," Looper countered.

The more Looper thought about the stupidity of this parent the more this agent was determined to train Chip that much harder. In due time young Sturges will have wished that there was an adult around to save him.

By Tuesday the sitting for the family portrait was finished; on Wednesday the boys posed for Looper's present. Chip made sure they weren't disturbed when he put a sign on his bedroom door: Models concentrating--Do Not Disturb.

Robby Kent kept his friend up-to-date with the goings-on at the Capitol. Most of the gossip centered around the Secret Service storming of the senator's office, then the man's quick disappearance. There were those who correlated the two. With remnants of his boat being found near the Bermuda Triangle, people figured that the senator had either made a run for it or faked his own death to escape whatever investigation was being conducted.

Out of concern, a Senate committee was organized to look into the financial dealings of a senator who had been accused previous of misappropriation of campaign funds. For the two teens who knew the most, they kept their mouths shut.

A few days shy of traveling with their father on a tristate campaign run, the White House's interior was taking on a festive ambiance for both Thanksgiving and the upcoming Christmas holidays.

Finally back on a normal schedule, Chip was glad it was Friday. His final period of physical education meant an hour with the Sturges' boy, but Looper had given precise instructions to avoid confrontation. It wasn't like Looper had intentionally practiced a series of self-defense moves to counter a sixteen-year old's novice fighting techniques.

After a game of indoor whiffle ball, the parade of naked bodies into the showers had begun. The boys weren't privy to why Chip had missed most of the week from 7th period, but they expected it was because of Sturges, a bully who intimidated others and had few supporters. Chip, in contrast, was one of the more popular kids in his sophomore grade. He wasn't a do-gooder by any means. Funny and sometimes straight up, in-your-face with teachers, he had a lot of respect without being at tough guy.

Chip did as instructed and waited for the last group to enter the shower area. By this time Sturges had showered and was supposed to be dressing. Whether Looper's absence was intentional or not would be the man's secret. He had moseyed up to Mr. Townsend's office for a few words.

Chip was one of seven boys telling jokes or rehashing a humorous lunch story from the cafeteria that day when Sturges walked in behind Chip.

"Hey, fag, I don't see your bodyguard outside. Actually I got rid of him. Are you going to shit right here on the shower room floor?"

Chip turned, a smile still on his face. He took a deep breath, just like Looper had instructed. What he had practiced a thousand times over the past two weeks barely came to his mind. Looper had often said, "Get out of your own way! Don't think!"

Waiting in silence for the slightest of movement, a swing or a push would make everything turn automatic. Chip's first response was a mental order; the rest was pure automation. Sturges' arms barely began their motion upward, along with his threat that coincided the aggressive act.

"I'm going to see if that long dick of yours can reach your mouth."

Actually the word mouth was barely heard because Sturges' right wrist was captured in a wink of an eye, and then his weight had lost all balance forward as his body was swung into the tile wall. The nose took the blunt, crushed into an immovable object. Slightly bounced back, Chip didn't flip the boy on the hard shower room floor; he just let him stand stunned, blood flowing from the nose.

"Enjoy your ice pack!" Chip said and released the captured wrist.

A bad memory rushed to his brain. It caused a second reaction. A straight punch landed directly into the right eye. Sturges dropped like he was born with rubber legs.

No boy had left the showers. They froze, mouths agape and eyes watching with glee the destruction of a class bully. The stout teenager moaned in pain, holding his hands over his nose in panic of seeing so much blood.

Looper had lingered in his approach to the shower. From laughter and boyish voices to silence, then to roars of encouragement. The agent knew something was astir. It had been a gamble, a roll of the dice whether a few weeks of training would suffice. When he walked in and saw a wet, red floor, flowing like a tiny creek, Looper didn't ask what happened, but a boy told him anyway.

"He slipped," a younger adolescent spoke up and caused a few giggles.

Looper played nurse and put pressure on the bridge of the nose. He assisted the stunned youngster to his feet and to the training room where Mr. Townsend hustled to grab an ice bag from the freezer. There were no words.

With order restored, Agent McElroy hustled back to the shower area but the boys had departed, more than a couple patting Chip on the back. Restraining himself from smiling Looper did manage a wink at his boy. He was never so proud of his charge than at that moment.

This time Chip dried himself off with three of his peers seated around him. The boys' eyes took turns from viewing what they all would've loved to possess to Chip's commentary on any subject--but not the fight.

"Where'd you learn all that?" one of them finally asked and the others waited with anticipation to hear the answer.

"Secret Service," Chip responded and lifted his head up to meet eye to eye with the man he loved.

It was all anyone needed to see. Even before the caravan of cars prepared to haul away the rich, the spoilt, and the famous, word had spread throughout the school of the fight. Chip Carver had become far more than just the president's son, but an instant hero.

As kids rushed to their lockers, they not only were elated that it was a Friday, but that the following week was only three days. There was no longer a naked kid in the gym being lectured but a martyr in their midst to be celebrated.

On the sidewalk they waited to applaud this champion, even at the expense of keeping their chauffeurs and parents in wait. If an academy could have held its own ticker tape parade, such an event would have evolved given time. Even juniors and seniors detoured their normal routine to give a high-five to this teenager they usually avoided or thought of as a weak, babied, political brat. Even better was the scene of a husky teenager, ice bag to his face, cotton swabs in his nose, and kids swore there were tears in his left eye. Several seventh and eighth graders, victims of hallway abuse, now clapped, teased, and mocked this pitiful sight. They all knew they had at least six weeks of reprieve, and if Chip Carver had his way, a lifetime of freedom from the school bully.

Eric Sturges' father was all but absent from the boy's life, an international trader who spent more time in Asia than with his family. Mrs. Sturges loved her son, but the boy was the stress of her life. As in so many children's lives, a deceased father is easier to cope with than an absent one. Eric's void was this absence and his actions were the expression of his own pain. Mrs. Sturges did her best to act the concerned parent, though underneath her frustration she gloated that the boy probably got what he deserved.

Her quick meeting with the Head Master verified the obvious; Eric had pushed a peer too far with gay slurs and physical aggressiveness. The other boy had simply retaliated. There was no mention that it was the president's son, Chip Carver. Mrs. Sturgeon thanked the man and departed for a trip to the doctor to fix her son's nose. It served him right, but she might not tell him that.

The woman's second concern was her husband who thought his son did no wrong. She wasn't about ready to allow this man to blame the Carver boy. She'd put her kid in a public school if she had to.






















Chapter Twenty-Four


Mary Carver kissed her three men before they stepped off the South Porch to board the Presidential helicopter on their way to Air Force One. Combining this trio of males for a much-feared reunion of sorts, the consequences could end up both pyrotechnic and utterly plausible. Not since the Reagan presidency had a child so voiced their dissension of their father's views. If they didn't kill each other, then Thanksgiving would take on a new meaning.

Chip and Philly at least had Looper with them, a concession to go on this trip. It at least meant that they wouldn't miss any practice of their marital arts training. Chip had fallen in love with martial arts and now watched Bruce Lee movies whenever he got the chance. In nothing but their birthday suits the boys did spin kicks and acrobatic moves to duplicate what they watched in the movies.

Chip's new orange belt had become another motivator. Not to imply that Looper had favorites, Philly was promoted to orange, as well. Yuri, missing more practices than he made, was promoted to yellow belt.

"Do no harm," the boys' mother whispered to them as she kissed them each on departure.

"That's what our gym teacher says before our dodgeball games, then he aims for our heads," Philly spoke and had his brother cracking up.

At Andrews Air Force Base the boys trotted up the steps to board Air Force One, technically known to the Pentagon as a VC-25A. The President's cabin was in the extreme nose on the main deck, but the boys chose two leather seats to the middle of the aircraft. Reporters and agents were everywhere, each watching the other. Every time a reporter attempted a conversation with a Carver boy, an agent quickly intervened. The boys were off-targets for interviews.

The brothers were being played as pawns of a political juggernaut, carefully constructed by the party reelection committee. The Republican platform relied on family values, whatever that meant. To the public such a value meant a happily married couple, a couple of kids, home cooking, and a religious background, preferably Protestant. It also meant voting the way your parents did, often Republican. If the nominee wore a white sheet on weekends, had a boy in bed once in a while, or liked Jewish food, it didn't matter as long as they were Republican, God-fearing, and kept their smut under wraps. What was known, forty percent would automatically vote Democrat, forty-percent Republican, and the other twenty percent was up for grabs. If these twenty percent believed you had fun-loving kids with great parents supporting their every nuance, then the current president just might win with fifty-one percent.

This special 747 landed at O'Hare International Airport amidst a regiment of agents, along with a huge collection of local cops. A cold chill welcomed the president as he stepped off the plane to a cheer from a few hundred of his followers. Only after his campaign secretary reminded the president to wait for his sons, did Alain look behind him to place one arm around each of his boy's shoulders.

Below the steps was an Air Force chief master sergeant who snapped a salute. The president didn't have to return the salute. Philly did to the crowd's enlightenment.

"Welcome to Illinois, Mr. President!"

A well-dressed man offered his hand and shook it vigorously. The president recognized the governor of the state.

"I'm honored to be here, Jed," Alain replied.

A band crashed to "Ruffles and Flourishes," immediately followed by "Hail to the Chief." Chip was not normally impressed by all things presidential. This he was, the assembled soldiers with their presented arms and all the American flags.

Down a red carpeted corridor, men, women, and, yes, even a few children, waited patiently for their commander-in-chief to greet them. Chip saw hands reach out, even wanting to touch him and Philly. An agent made sure the hand didn't stay long.

"Welcome to Illinois!"—"You're as handsome as your father!"—"Chip Carver, we love you!"

The last remark Chip had to glance over several bystanders to see three girls waving a red, white, and blue banner. He smiled, embarrassed to be paid such attention, and then glanced around to see if there were any teenage boys around—not a young male face in the crowd. That was a bummer. Given the mass assembly, constant media attention and stimuli, the brothers were too wide-eyed to take it all in at once.

Their motorcade swung through Chicago, though the president was in a different limo than the boys. People on sidewalks waved, held their miniature American flags and pretty much just tried to see someone through the blackened windows. Chip wanted to roll his window downward but was reprimanded by an agent he didn't even know.

The parade of vehicles pulled into a Chicago campus to an entertainment center called the UIC Pavilion. Packed to the brim, the boys followed every lead that Looper gave them. They were seated in metal chairs on a stage covered with red, white, and blue bunting.

The president's speech was way too choreographed for Chip's taste. He'd heard it all before; yet, there was this new ring of family responsibilities to a nation that had shifted its ethnicity to a dangerous slant, unlike what our founding fathers had in mind for this great country. Chip realized his father was encouraging the white population to understand that they were close to becoming a minority, as what has happened in three states already; the last being California.

"Who gives a fuck?" Chip said under his breath, but loud enough that Philly heard it. His younger brother giggled.

In those few moments Chip fully grasped the importance of his father, a man who had been elevated to a podium of such importance. He heard the noises, saw the faces, and loved every moment of being center stage. His father was the United States of America, their President, but more than this, he was the embodiment of everyone's hopes, their desires, the image of a great nation. And because of all this they were willing to love someone they didn't really know like his children did: a bigoted, homophobic, adulterous jerk.

What he, Chip Carver, could do with a crowd like this. It was power beyond comprehension, a crowd to command, to change the way people thought about a small group of people they didn't relate to because of some Bible verse or prior parent aversion. If they only knew a gay person things would be different. Yes, if he was president he'd bathe in this moment like a splash of warm jism splashing on your stomach, a moment of utter perfection. Chip smiled at his wording, then realized that his brother was standing; they had been introduced as the president's sons. He jumped right up and waved to the amazing applause. Not in his lifetime, even on election night, had the brothers been so honored. Chip eyed Looper, who grinned, nearly laughing at the boy's discomfort.

Around and below this podium Secret Service agents stood in line, their sunglasses shielding their eyes so that those in the audience could not always tell where they were looking, and also because people without eyes are intimidating at a visceral level. Their hands were clasped in front, radio earpieces alive with contacts from other agents as they scanned the crowd. To the rear of the pavilion were others, this group scanning with binoculars, like a combat zone, careful to examine every movement seemingly out of step.

TV cameras fed live coverage outside to uplink dishes to satellites. A press coverage followed, though the boys were kept separate from any inquiries. Being hustled around like two mistresses, the boys found themselves again in the back of a limo. Chip turned to his brother.

"Did you get the impression that dad is telling the American people to have more children, especially if you're white?"

Philly was way too enthralled to actually have listened to any speech. "Not really," he said, not wanting to affront his brother or agree to what he didn't hear.

"Next thing we hear he'll be blaming gays for not having children and embracing the American way."

"Nuh, Dad won't be doing that," Philly said in his naiveté.

Their drive to a large estate in Lake Forest, by Lake Michigan, was the home of a state senator, a close friend of Alain's. They would be staying the night at the residence. The cold weather and lake chill prevented the attraction of an outdoor pool, but the tennis court was far more inviting. Philly's game wasn't at the level his brother was, but they still hit for fun in the cool, fall air.

Searching for victims, as Chip called them, he asked the senator for a set or two. The middle-aged politician had just arrived with President Carver from this initial gathering on his three-state tour. The senator, a tennis fan and avid player, loved this chance to spank the president's boy. The man got a lesson from a sixteen year old: 6-1, 6-0. The press nearby made note of Chip's expertise at this sport. The senator patted the teenager on the back after the boy's display.

"You're lucky, youngster, dinner is ready. I was just getting warmed up."

Chip smiled. "You'll have better luck sticking to politics."

He loved the attention of reporters who laughed at Chip's insight.

At the large dining room table, it was all the senator wanted to talk about was that the president had a son who should be training for Wimbledon, not following in his father's footsteps. President Carver grinned, yet was not amused that his son was getting too much attention.

Prime rib, baked potato, and fresh corn on the cob, followed by rhubarb pie had the brothers satisfied. Listening to the boredom of politics to post-dinner conversation the boys adjourned to their upstairs guest room. A huge king-size bed awaited them as they stripped down to their underwear and wrestled each other to the softness of a large mattress. Off to the bathroom, the sight of a Jacuzzi had them both smiling.

"Man, this is the life," Philly said as they both leaned back to the pleasure of a thousand bubbles.

"Better than the prison we live in," Chip agreed.

They heard the sound of someone in their bedroom as Philly leaped out and peeked around the corner.

"It's Looper. He brought up our suitcases."

"Let's get `im!" Chip said and the boys dashed out, wet and coated with suds to tackle an unsuspecting agent who would rather face a terrorist than these two.

Before the man could protest, Chip was sitting on his chest, while Philly was pulling the man's black trousers from his legs.

"Lock the door," Looper suggested, knowing any resistance was futile. Finally stripped of his suit, Looper wrestled with these two ruffians until this exercise had all three of them sweating. Their escapade ended up back in the Jacuzzi, a destination Looper knew wasn't on the agenda.

"Want to sleep with us tonight, Looper?" Chip asked.

"I'm not on duty tonight, big guy. There will be agents all over and around this house. This isn't the White House, so observance will be priority."

Looper rested back in the bubbly, hot water. He eyed two gorgeous teenagers in front of him. Underneath all the suds and bubbles, he had Chip's foot massaging his erection. How he could be this lucky to be made love to by these dynamos was a miracle.

"You're catching up to your brother, youngster," Looper told Philly.

"I'm going for twelve inches," Philly said and chuckled. "I read where these Africans attached stones to their dicks and made them super long. I tried a football but my dick hurt after a few minutes."

Chip cracked up laughing. "Dude, you don't want a dick down to your ankles. It gives those defensive guys another thing to tackle you with."

Philly thought about that. "Yeah, I got sacked the last game by two or three guys and one of them punched me in the balls. I told my buds in the huddle to let that guy come through on the next play. I threw the ball square in his nuts. The ref looked at me kind of funny, but he didn't flag me."

Looper shook his head in amazement and then laughed. These boys were precious. When his cell phone rang he mentioned he was helping the boys get settled. Hopefully his peer didn't hear the Jacuzzi. Someday he'd have to write a book and make it fiction.

















Chapter Twenty-Five


Up early, this presidential party landed in Indianapolis, the capital and largest city in Indiana. President Carver's appearance at the Mile Square was precarious and offered the agency's biggest challenge in protecting the president and his sons.

The weather cooperated with this political enclave of force, presenting not only the president but the state's two United States senators, always glad to be by the side of a man destined for another term. The Indianapolis Star newspaper managed to focus on the president's sons more than the Chicago Tribune had done. All that was required of Chip and Philly—smile and wave.

President Carver's speech wasn't toned down from his Chicago presentation, once again emphasizing, if not stirring up, the large percentage of European ancestry, including English, French, German, and Irish heritages that made up almost two-thirds of the Indianapolis population.

The brothers were excited that they were to tour the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. Once again they were seated on a stage, surrounded by chairs for dignitaries, including a choir to their rear which reminded Chip of church. He thought it was a little overdone.

Sharing the dais with the president was the Governor of the State of Indiana, a robust man of the same age and ego, Chip thought. They appeared to bump butts as if to gain the center of the podium. The sixteen-year old had to laugh. Then Philly wanted to know what was so funny, so Chip whispered in his brother's ear so they could both find humor with this sideshow.

The speech was all patriotic, centered on Thanksgiving which was two days away. Chip wondered who had written the speech, certainly not his father. Philly pointed out a couple of dogs in the vast audience, Belgian Malinois dogs, the type of bred that sniffed out explosives. Chip wished he was anywhere but there playing the ever loyal son. Loyal to his father's vision of what? The teen wasn't sure. He felt more the doltish boy.

As if totally bored with another speech Chip began to roam his eyes to his side. He silently wished someone would fart. He couldn't tell Philly that or the boy would start giggling and embarrass them both on this world stage. Anyway, as he glanced to Philly next to him, his brother was adjusting an erection in his pants. Chip knew it as a boner because Philly's palm slid down its length like a cheap masturbation attempt. Just like school. It happened at the worst of times. When their eyes met Philly knew that his brother knew. They both put their hands over their mouths to stop the hysterics.

Some movement caught the corner of Chip's eye. A member of this thirty-member choir was reaching under his robe, like he too had an erection that needed adjustment. Instead, Chip watched closely the man pull out a hunting knife, a serrated blade of six inches. The boy's jaw dropped. There was no time to think of what this guy was going to do with that knife, nor did Chip really want to scream to distract the attention paid to his father. It was when this choir member's eyes scanned for the opening between two men sitting to the rear of the president that Chip came to full alert.

There was only six feet between the metal chairs and the podium where his father stood. No more had the man begun his movement forward then Chip automatically slid to the edge of his chair. In one rapid rhythm he bounded from his seat like this was a game of musical chairs. Three feet to the rear of his father Chip's left hand jerked forward and cupped the man's wrist with the knife. De ja vu swept through Chip's mind; it was like having Sturges' wrist, but this one was much thicker, stronger, and had a knife attached to the hand. The grab managed to deviate the knife from its intended target as Chip kept the arm arching backwards.

The boy would have continued this circular action to where he would reverse the man's momentum sending him tumbling to the ground but he never had a chance to finish this Aikido technique that had been drilled in his mind. A surge of force flew on them like a powerful breeze. Agents leaped on both boy and man.

Chip was crushed, then dragged backwards by the insurgents. His hold had been broken by this rush of force. From flat on his back Chip's ears began to focus on the screams and hysteria that had apparently been almost nonexistent to his ears seconds before. He was sure Looper was one of those agents who had rushed to help disable and force the attacker to the floor. Oddly no one had disengaged the knife from the attacker's hand. Chip sat up and watched this assassin take a stab at several of the agents attempting to disarm him. The blade shot upwards and into the agent's left breast, not once but twice. Another agent's fist flew into the attacker's right shoulder, then a knee crushed into the elbow to send the knife sliding across the wooden stage, where it rested unnoticed.

Chip's eyes focused on the stabbed agent—Looper. His face was not fully visible until Looper had rolled to where he was face upward. Both hands went to holding his chest. When their eyes met Chip could see the grimace, the pain of having his body violated. Chip was sure his best friend was near death. With a revitalized surge of energy, Chip flew upright and then dove over two other agents to get to this creep who had not only attacked his father, but now his best friend.

"You asshole!" Chip shouted. "You've hurt the man I love!"

Chip was on top of a Secret Service agent, his arm swinging wildly at the subdued attacker. Like a piston a teen's fist pumped straight up and down to pulverize this guy's face. It wasn't enough that this wannabe assassin was already immobilized, Chip wanted to kill the guy with his own might. Chaos was rampant, though no shots had been fired.

Off the stage panic had swept through the thousands who had gathered while Secret Service agents, cops, and other security massed to gain control and surround the stage. President Carter had been surrounded instantly and escorted from the premises. Philly had been picked up around the waist and literally carried to safety.

Practically dragged off and manhandled, Chip had yet to gain his senses, so determined was he to vent revenge. Only when he realized that the man who had dragged him off was Looper, did he relax.

"You're not hurt?" Chip asked looking up.

He threw his arms around Looper's neck with the greatest feeling of relief. He'd been tossed twice to the floor like a rag doll, incensed beyond anything he'd ever felt, and now was feeling a trifle disoriented himself.

"Kevlar, my boy. I felt the poke, but it didn't penetrate."

Chip's relief was only his first reaction. Tears of joy flowed from Chip's eyes. He reached up again to this man who had meant the world to him and shared more than one intimate moment. A hug, kiss, it didn't matter, the teen only wanted to show how glad he was that Looper was okay.

What seemed like minutes since the incident, it wasn't more than thirty seconds had passed as order appeared to be restored. Chip opened his eyes to see where his father or brother stood; both had been hustled from the stage to a safe location. He, himself, realized his feet weren't exactly touching the floor as Looper was carrying the boy out of the area, away from where police had handcuffed and prepared to deliver this suspect to a federal location for questioning.

More than one reporter and television camera had stuck around to record the commotion on this political stage. An attempted assassination would be big news around the world. Exclusive coverage of this entire attack and its aftermath had value in votes and public interest, especially when it appeared that the president's own son was involved in disrupting the actual assault. In this case, they also captured some intimate moments that might have best been served in more private places.

Chip Caver was reunited with his father and brother onboard Air Force One within thirty minutes. Though the president was scheduled for a political luncheon at the Governor's mansion, any assassination attempt was considered a terrorist act that might involve more than one party or place.

A rapid departure to Columbus, Ohio, would place them eight hours ahead of schedule to stay at the home of Senator Fraxton, another close friend of the president. The quick flight felt numb to its participants and had been immensely silent in conversation. Like a dark cloud the seriousness of such an infraction weighed heavily on everyone's nerves.

Chip sat with his knees up to chest. Like a depression after a rush of adrenaline the reality of the situation hit him harder than a Spurges' punch. He began to shake and cry. Only Philly noticed his brother's dilemma and moved over to wrap an arm around him.

"You okay, Chipper?"

Chip wanted to speak, wanted to be brave, but bawled that much harder. What if Looper hadn't been wearing that vest? What if he had just sat there and watched that man stab his father? Sure he was mad at his father, but not enough to see his dad get hurt.

"Don't let me go," is all Chip said.

It took a member of the press corps to see what was transpiring. He called the doctor on board who had only checked on the president's mental health. Dr. Watkins rushed to the boy's side to give him a Valium to relax the teen.

Even before they exited the plane the boys were both given medical examinations. Chip had a few scrapes and bruises, his knuckles bloodied from numerous punches. Being tossed about by the men hired to protect him hadn't phased him. It was his mental health that needed watched.

Finally settled in to this residence behind guarded gates on the outskirts of Columbus, facts and actual footage of the assassination attempt began to be revealed to the president and his staff. Throughout the Internet, television, and all other media it had gone viral. The reality that his own son had probably saved his life had amazed President Carver and pleased him immensely. The actual press coverage was not remiss in recording what was said or the aftermath.

As if this was a postgame wrap up, the television crew had continued this coverage to the point of watching the First Boy leap back into action. Chip's actual words appeared to be, "You asshole, you stabbed the man I love!" His son's affectional hug and kiss had certainly not gone unnoticed and now had millions of hits on YouTube and Tumblr.

On the Internet the assassination attempt took second fiddle behind a kiss to the lips between a sixteen-year old and a Secret Service agent. Millions of citizens had probably leaned forward with their eyes and mouths wide opened.

"Fuck! Why did the boy have to be a goddamn fairy in front of millions of voters?!" the president barked to his aides.

"We'll clean it up, Mr. President," his campaign manager promised. "Look, the boy's words aren't real distinguishable. We even had to run it in slow motion with a voice monitor. The public won't have that privilege."

Alain sighed. "See that you do! I don't want anyone thinking my son is in love with one of our agents. Put that man on administrative leave until we get to the bottom of this. I just knew McElroy was getting too close to my son, goddamn him!"

In a guest cottage to the rear of this estate, Chip and Philly were unpacking their suitcases for the second time while discussing the events of the afternoon. Philly was so impressed with his brother he couldn't stop talking about this hero as his own brother.

"Dude, you were, like, so awesome. I thought your mind had tilted when I saw you jerk from your seat. Man! Everyone was stunned."

"I'd've flipped the guy if they would have left me alone."

Philly believed everything his brother said. "You got real crazy when you jumped back into that pile. Then they grabbed me, like I'd done something wrong. Carried me off like a suitcase."

"I sort of lost it when I saw the guy stab Looper. Boy was I pissed," Chip said and almost started to cry again.

The boy's nerves were resurfacing to everything that had happened. Saving his father was a reaction, something he would have done if someone he didn't even know had been speaking. Chip managed to turn away from his brother before his emotions got the best of him. But then Philly's arms surrounded his waist. Chip couldn't stop the tears.

"It's okay, bro," Philly tried to comfort. "You're, like, the bravest kid I've ever known. Please don't cry."

Chip turned to bury his brother's face within his own chest. To love someone as much as he did his brother and Looper made life worth living. A knock on their door came a second later. Chip wiped his eyes and collected himself.

"Yeah, who is it? We're busy in here!" Philly said in protection of his brother.

Finally Philly walked to the door and let in his father's campaign manager, Bill Sykes, an adult the boys only knew as someone who made plans for his father to win elections. Bill didn't take notice of the boys' pensive behavior. He was a man who dwelt with numbers and politics, as one who played chess against a computer. Ruthless at times, his was a game of win at any cost. The unmistakable tears and red face on Chip Carver's face wasn't anything that Bill wished to get involved in.

"Okay, here's what we have. That whole incident was recorded, like, everything, got it? Good," he added without the boys responding. "Chip, you reacted in hysterics of your father almost being stabbed. Your remark of, `You asshole, you almost killed the man I love,' was in reference to your father. Got it?"

The question was rhetorical and didn't require an answer. Sykes kept talking. "When you lunged at Agent McElroy, you thought the man was your father, clear and simple. We don't want any insinuations or romantic implications. As long as we're on the same page here."

Chip took a deep breath, wiped his eyes with his sleeve and glanced at his brother. Philly was lost on all this.

"You bumped your head, dude. Bet this is from my father, right?" Chip asked.

As with most political and sensitive issues, Bill was the appointed one to cover all bases for all the responsible parties. If things went south, none of these problems were caused by the president or his family.

"Let's just say this decision has been mutually agreed upon."

"Even though it's a lie?" Chip asked, but his question was also rhetorical.

Bill Sykes wouldn't respond to the obvious.

"Where's Looper? I want to speak with him," Chip said.

"Agent McElroy is on his way back to Washington, D.C. Agent Graft is in charge of your detail. Any concerns will go through him."

"Why was Looper sent back?"

"We, your father, felt it was in your best interest."

"Fuck that! I save the old man's ass and he treats me like that! Ain't happening. I'm done! No way are you getting me on stage with HIM! again."

"I'm with my brother," Philly added.

Bill looked at the two boys like they had insulted God. "You'll both be ready by eight in the morning for your father's speech at Bryce Center." Bill turned to walk off.

"Fuck you and the horse you rode in on!" Chip yelled. "Don't let the door kick your ass on your way out."

Bill turned, feeling much the same way he did in high school when boys used to make fun of his geekish ways. "I shall report your behavior to your father."

Chip laughed. "Hey, Sykes, I'll go. I've been meaning to speak with the press anyway. It's not like I don't know what you and my father are up to."

Chip showed the man his MP3 player. "I accidentally left it in the dining room last night on record. Don't think you can get away with your coalition of churches to form, what'd you tell the senator, a collective voting forum to elect congressmen and senators? You guys will do anything to get your way including a Constitutional Amendment defining marriage the way you want it. Screw that! My dad's a hypocrite and so are you."

Sykes left in a huff, furious that a sixteen-year old was able to eavesdrop on a private conversation. Didn't the boy realize that his father is the most powerful man on the planet? This news won't go over well with the boss.

Around Washington circles the First Boy's reputation as a problem child were well known. There were jokes and rumors, but damn if that boy was going to ruin this election campaign. Bill headed right for his boss to give him the latest.

Chip picked up the phone in the guest cottage; it was dead.

"Well, so much for that idea."

Philly reached in his suitcase and pulled out his cell phone. "And here I didn't think it would be necessary. The only people who ever call me are my tailback and this girl at school who thinks I'm cute."

"Just show her your boner, she'll run away screaming."

Chip dialed Looper's number and got the agent driving to his condo from the airport.

"Chip! Man, don't let your father know you're calling me. Look, things will have to cool down. I've been put on leave for a while, maybe permanently. Don't blame your father, it was bound to happen sooner or later. We had a run at it though, didn't we?"

"No way, Looper. My father's not going to get away with this. I'll call a press conference."

"Settle down, my boy. Knowing your dad, he'll have you sent to a military school, far, far away. I needed a vacation anyway."

"Oh, come on, Looper, this is your bud, the Chipper. I miss you already, and then they put this duphus lookin' agent in charge of us, like, he probably can't even get it up."

Another five minutes of lecture had Chip agree to cool it for a few days to let the dust settle. After hanging up he called their mother and explained everything with some exaggeration.

"Mom, dad fired Looper. You can't let him do that, it's not fair. I saved his life and this is how he treats me."

"Son, your father didn't fire Looper. Your father called after the incident and explained everything. You were absolutely the bravest child in the world this morning. I'm really proud of you. Is your brother with you?"

"Philly has a gun on this substitute agent. We have him tied up until Looper is released. Our demands are simple if everyone cooperates."

"Chip, don't tease your mother. Just relax and I'll talk to your father when you get home. You didn't have to yell on national television for the world to hear that you love Looper."

"But I do, Mom, and so does Philly. Maybe in a different way, but we both need him."

Chip was used to his mother's logic as he said the usual uh-uh's and yeahs. He said his goodbyes and then looked at his brother.

"Who do we call next?"

Philly laughed. "How about CNN. I don't know what it means but they're always around."

"Some news agency," Chip knew and dialed information. In less than a minute he had gotten through to a receptionist.

"Hi, I'm Chip Carver. You know, the president's son. Is there a reporter around."

The lady sounded annoyed and asked for the name again. She told Chip to hang on. A man was half-heartedly laughing when he answered.

"Is this you, Herb? Real funny. What do you want?"

"I don't know who Herb is, but this is Chip Carver. If you don't believe me ask me some questions about this morning's events."

There was a pause, then a few questions to verify that this wasn't a prank call. Convinced, things got really serious.

"So, what's this about, Chip Carver?"

Chip ran the entire scenario down, including how Looper, alias Wenzel McElroy, had been laid off because yours truly had told the world that he loved him.

"Okay, so what does love mean to a sixteen-year old?" the reporter asked.

Chip wasn't falling for the trap. "How does your job compare to one working at McDonalds? Have you ever tried flipping hamburgers? I don't like condescending adults."

"My bad. If you want me on your side I need a reason why you care for this Agent McElroy."

Chip sighed and relented. "See, my father isn't around very much, and Looper is like a big brother to me. I ask him for advice; he helps me with my homework, and we talk about things only an older person knows the answers." Chip was content that he neither revealed he was gay or gave up Looper.

"You know, young man, you're front page headlines on every news program in the nation, if not the world. Everyone thinks you jumped back on that attacker because you were mad at the guy who tried to kill your father. May I use this new information?"

"Why not, it's the truth. And I have more news if my father doesn't give me back Looper."

"Don't suppose you can give me your phone number?"

"I don't suppose you can't have it, but you won't get it no way. I love using all those negatives, it drives my English teacher batty."

"Okay, I can live with that. It's not that we won't be seeing each other soon. You've become a national hero of sorts. Loved your fast ball at the Nationals' game. Your brother's screwball wasn't too bad either."

Chip turned toward Philly. "The guy liked your screwball at the World Series."

"Tell him it just looked like a screwball. It was my Little League fastball that barely made the extra fifteen feet."

The editor heard Philly's reply and laughed. "You guys are all right for being president's kids."

"Don't suppose you can give us a ride to Washington? Like maybe a private jet?" Chip asked.

"I don't suppose you can't have one, but you ain't getting' it no way. I learned that from a teenager."

"You're quick. Don't suppose you're gay, are you?"

There was laughter again on the other side of the phone. "Married with two kids."

"Bummer. We all make mistakes." Chip had to hang up when there was a knock again at the door. It was a Secret Service agent.

"Your father is requesting your appearance for dinner."

"Tell Mr. President that we're not hungry."

No more than the man departed when Philly admitted being famished. They hadn't eaten since breakfast.

"We'll order a pizza," Chip said.

"Yeah, like they'd allow a pizza guy to come to our door."

"We'll go to the pizza place," Chip said in response.

The boys dressed for the coolness of a fall night. Out they crept in the darkness alongside the outskirts of the property. Agents were preventing any entry, not looking for anyone leaving. The boys moved along the circular driveway, agents everywhere. Two men in suits approached a Suburban in preparation to leave.

Chip pointed and whispered, "Climb on the back bumper." The boys crouched low as they raced forward and hitched a ride on the bumper of the SUV. In the darkness no one noticed the two figures as the vehicle exited the estate. At the main gate stop sign, both boys jumped off and hid behind a bush. The Chevy moved up to the gate and stopped again. Only one agent got out and moved to the closed gate monitored by a security man and another Secret Service agent. Small talk that wasn't audible kept Chip and Philly huddled close to each other to plan their next move.

"What luck," Chip said softly when a pizza car drove up to the gate.

Out came four boxes which were returned to the first vehicle and placed in the middle of the front seat. There was a discussion between the driver of the pizza vehicle and an agent.

"The kid doesn't have change for a hundred, Harv," the agent shouted.

The other agent reached for his wallet while walking with his peer back to the gate. Chip made his move, darted to the Suburban, snatched the top box and retreated back to the bush. The boys dove in to the hot pepperoni and mushroom pizza. When the agents returned to their car they didn't notice that a box was missing.

Philly gave his brother a high five before they devoured six pieces each. Their next move was to find a way out of this community.

Across the nation every evening news network reported the assassination attempt on the president's life. Chip Carver was made out as America's hero, a son determined to protect his father at all cost. The commentary of what Chip Carver was reported to have said was exactly the version the president's press secretary had given for release. That is except one station, CNN. At first CNN's executives were skeptical that this caller was actually Chip Carver. Why would the kid want to speak with a low level editor?

"Because he's sixteen and wouldn't know a junior editor from a senior one," came the logical response. "Trust me, only Philly Carver would know what kind of a pitch he threw at the World Series."

Prepared for the worst of repercussions they went with the story. The latest news went national. President Carver reacted with disdain and dismissed the outlandish report that he was a neglectful father as a prank call to damage his campaign and his son's reputation.

One individual watching the evening news was at his favorite Chinese restaurant, enjoying a meal with two of his friends. Smells of curry and coconut perfume filled the air while Chung treated his latest drug deal with Nyonya noddle soup, brims with delicate salmon and shrimp, tender squid, hunks of saturated eggplant and slurp-ready udon, swimming in buttery, bouillabaisse-like curry gravy.

The television was behind the bar and barely audible, but that didn't stop Hsu Chung from racing up from his table to slide over the counter and turn up the volume. The bartender was stunned but didn't dare say anything. He well knew the reputation of this patron.

The station replayed the event from several angles, all quickly enhanced for optimal view. Chung couldn't believe his eyes. Certainly this was a kid who looked like the one he'd been playing as a fool. When interviews started with those in the audience, Hsu switched channels to get a close up of this boy named Chip Carver.

Chung was used to being in control and controlling others. He realized he'd been duped, but at what cost he wasn't sure. Now no one could be trusted, not even the two drug couriers he was eating with. Things began to make sense; the GPS he'd put in the pen had led him to a black neighborhood where he had barely escaped with his life. It wasn't any place you'd find a white boy. Then there was that man's face he had seen at the baseball game on television. Yes, of course, the same man that had been seated with the boy in the booth, the other son of the president. They had to know about the drugs, but yet he wasn't arrested. What were they looking for? It didn't matter, Chung told himself. He'd given nothing away and the kid would be dead soon anyway, along with the president.

Covering his tracks was even more essential. Leaving the restaurant he made the buy from his usual connection; two young Jamaicans who had always been reliable. Hsu insisted they go for a drink after this transaction. The men had no idea why Hsu stopped in an isolated area near the Potomac River. A gun was pulled from Chung's waist before Hsu ordered them both out of the car.

Chung walked the men to the river's bank. He politely told them it wasn't personal but precautionary. Too many recent events left big worries about informers. He shot them both in the head. The police could care less about two men with long arrest records.

Chip and Philly walked two miles and came across a convenience store. They bought two sodas to satisfy their thirst. Their stomachs were full, thanks to the Secret Service. A college-age student, wearing an Ohio State sweatshirt, was also in the store to buy beer for a fraternity party. Chip went right up to him.

"Want to make some money?" Chip asked.

"Forget it, kid. I don't buy minors cigarettes or alcohol."

"No, really, I'm Chip Carver, you might have heard of me." The name didn't register nor much impress this Ohio State senior in biochemistry; that is until he started to walk to the cash register. He looked back and stared at the face.

"Really? You can't do better than that?" he said in sarcasm. "Nice try. Everyone wants to be Chip Carver today."

The student chuckled at the cashier and jerked his finger back at the two teens.

Chip peeled off his hoodie, took out his wallet and showed his I.D. to the student.

"I'll pay you a thousand dollars to take me and my brother to Washington, D.C."

"Let's see the thousand dollars."

The twenty-three old female cashier probably would have chased these two kids from the store, except they had bought two sodas. She was used to kids hanging around the counter, often stealing when she wasn't looking. For a moment she was entertained by what was transpiring. Another glimpse of the older boy brought a longer look.

"He does look a lot like that kid on television all day. But they were in Indianapolis."

Chip reached in the rack by the register and pulled out a newspaper. On the front page was an article about President Carver speaking in Columbus on Wednesday. A picture of Chip on stage before he leaped to ward off the attack was vaguely clear.

"We came straight here after the attack."

"I think it's him," the cashier offered while ringing up the case of beer.

Howie Stevens barely met ends meet. He borrowed from friends just to buy books for his senior year. A thousand dollars would come in handy. He turned to face these two boys, then glanced up to a television above the clerk. Constant news coverage was on the attempted assassination. In that brief instance there was a photo of this same kid standing next to him. Back and forth his eyes went, television to Chip and back.

"Where are your bodyguards if you're this Carver boy?"

"My brother and I snuck out. My father doesn't know it yet. It's okay, we'll call him when we get back to the White House. My mother will pay you, I promise."

Howie looked at the cashier as if for permission. He moved to the door without comment. The boys followed. At his ten-year old Honda Civic, Howie paused.

"Let me get this right. If I take you two to Washington, the First Lady, who's your mother I'm assuming, just steps out and gives me a thousand dollars."

"Yeah, something like that. I'll let you talk to her, if you want."

Chip held his hand out for Philly's cell phone. All he got was his mother's answering machine, but at least Howie listened.

"Okay, get in, but I want this in writing so you don't renege."

Chip wrote an I.O.U. and signed it. Philly put his signature on it, as well. In minutes they were on the Interstate heading east; one fraternity house would stay sober for the evening.

It was near nine o'clock when Alain finished his social graces amidst wine and cognac. Slightly inebriated the president had business to settle with his two boys. It had been a few years since he'd taken a belt to his eldest; his youngest son had always toed the line. Problem was, the older brother had too much influence over the younger. The boys were getting too big for their britches, and Alain knew that any punishment to the older boy would intimidate the younger.

His knock proved unsuccessful so he walked in. The lights were on, television blaring and suitcases open. The agent by his side put in a call to find the two boys on the grounds. After a thirty-minute search the Secret Service realized that they'd lost two boys. There had been a great deal of blaming and accusations with the missing box of pizza. When no one fessed up, emotions almost came to blows. Now that they had two missing boys their assumptions were most accurate.

Keeping secrets were not a prelude to keeping one's job in the Agency, but, in this case, no one wanted to confess they'd blown this one big time. Having GPS units imbedded in the boys' bodies were meant for such an occasion. They had the boys exact location within minutes. The Detail's supervisor reported to the President with the urgency.

"Mr. President, we have your sons, probably in a car, heading due east, just south of Harrisburg. Looks like they're heading home. Do you want us to intercede?"

President Carver gave this option much consideration. If this broke in the news it could be disastrous for the campaign.

"No, Walt. Put a vehicle in the front and rear with a helicopter observation. I want a full report on who is driving that car. If it's my son I'll ground him for life. How in hell did that boy get a car?!"

The FBI was the initial responders, noting the license plate number, type of vehicle, speed and position. Within seconds they had Howie's complete student history, medical reports, and any and all violations with the law—one speeding ticket two years earlier and two parking tickets on campus. The twenty-one year old was an average student and a member of the chess club on campus.


Chip sat in the front seat, his eyes often drooping from the monotony of the drive on the Pennsylvania Turnpike. Behind him Philly was laid out fast asleep.

"You must like oldies," Chip said to break the silence between them.

"Better than rap," Howie replied.

They listened to an oldies' station out of Philadelphia. Howie adjusted his glasses upward on the bridge of his nose. This trip was almost too incredulous to contemplate, but what a story he could tell his fraternity brothers.

"Beats the shit they call music these days."

"Yeah, I don't listen to rap either," Chip replied.

"With a silent C."

Chip laughed. He liked this guy. The teenager mentioned how two of his best friends were Ohio State grads, which seemed to impress Howie. They talked about the football season and how Ohio State had beaten Michigan the previous week, only because Philly had watched the game and bragged about the results.

Howie had glanced in his rearview mirror several times. The same set of headlights had stayed about three hundred feet to his rear and in the same lane. Though Howie had slowed, then speeded up, the car made no attempt to pass him over the past hour. Ahead of him another car appeared to keep on pace with the Honda's speed, slowing when he slowed and speeding up when he sped up. Didn't seem at all normal.

"Do you know any gays at Ohio State?" Chip asked.

Howie held up his hand. At first Chip thought the guy was signifying five, but it wasn't that at all. The driver's side window was lowered after the radio was turned down. Above them the sound of a helicopter could be heard.

"Fuck! We're being followed! I shouldn't have done this. You're too important. You're going to get my ass in deep shit."

Chip played it all off. "Nah, don't sweat it. If they'd wanted to stop us they would have done it by now. I know `em. Think of it as your own escort. My dad had us bugged years ago when he took office. I didn't think about that earlier. What a jerk."

"Your dad's the president. He makes people disappear, if you know what I mean. Man, you'll going to get me arrested," Howie said very anxiously.

"No you won't. My father needs my support. I sort of have him by his balls."

Chip grabbed Philly's phone again from his pocket and dialed Looper.

"Yes, I've been informed," Looper said right off the bat. "They wanted to know if I had put you up to it. Kiddo, you've done it this time."

"Sorry, Looper, but my father was totally off base for sending you home, and then I heard what his so-called family values entails. No way! I'm not part of his devious plan."

"Just make sure this guy doesn't have any drugs or weapons in his car. They're not going to take too kindly to his assistance."

"I'll tell `im, Looper. I miss you."

"Get used to it, my boy, I'm not sure your father will accept me back in the fold."

"I'll threaten him, Looper. I'll get you back, I promise."

"Chip, I love you, buddy, but your biting off more than you can chew. This is a no-win situation. You have no idea."

"Like I care. What's he going to do, confine me to my room? Not like we don't live in a prison already. I'll just do more porn." Chip hung up and relayed Looper's concern to Howie.

Howie reached under his dashboard and pulled out a bag of weed. He was about ready to throw the entire bag out but changed his mind. Opening the plastic zipper lock, he fluttered the contents out the window.

"You're a gutsy kid," Howie admitted and kept glancing back.

A heavy sigh was only because he had convinced himself that he wasn't in immediate danger because there weren't any flashing red lights or a roadblock.

"Does Ohio State have a LGBT club?" Chip tried again.

"Of course. We have a few gays in our frat. No big deal, everyone accepts them. I saw on that TV at the convenience store that you kissed that man. Are you gay?"

No one had truly asked him so directly, at least someone close to his age.

"I think so. Well, I am, but I don't care what others think."

Howie looked over and smiled. "You do, or you wouldn't have said it. It's cool, man, just be yourself. We even have a gay fraternity on campus."

Chip liked what he heard. "That's so cool. I'd love that."

"When you're the president's son, you can get into any college you want, even Ohio State."

Howie got a smile from this teenager who he'd taken a liking to. When a hand shook his knee Chip realized he'd fallen asleep. They were inside the city limits, close to the White House. Chip didn't have to give instructions, there were signs everywhere. He told Howie to pull right up to the gate.

From what looked like a quiet night, in seconds several agents stormed out and surrounded the vehicle. Chip stepped out and checked his watch. It was four in the morning.

"Hey, guys! We're home." Chip glanced at these agents that he knew by name. "Guys, shouldn't you be looking for fence jumpers instead of your favorite boys?"

Two vehicles came in directly behind Howie's Honda, as if to prevent an escape. The First Lady stepped out from the booth behind the gate and marched toward her sons. She hugged them both.

"You're in big trouble, you two," she said but not with a tone that scared either one of them.

To the side, Howie had stepped out from his Honda and was quickly handcuffed. Agents all but dove in his vehicle to rummage through and around the seats.

"Hey! What did I do wrong?"

"You've transported minors across state lines without permission," an agent told him.

Fortunately Mrs. Carver had her say in this. "Fellas, undo those cuffs from Mr. Stevens. He's done nothing wrong. My son called me to tell me what was going on. If you want to help, protect my husband so my son doesn't have to risk his own life next time."

"Way to go, Mom!" Philly shouted.

"You know my name?" Howie asked and shook his wrists after being released from the restraints.

The First Lady moved over and shook the student's hand. "We've known your name for several hours. Thank you for delivering my boys in one piece. What do I owe you?"

Howie was out of his territory just being here. Any bravery had left his mouth.

"I'm just happy to have helped out, ma'am."

"Mom! We promised Howie a thousand dollars," Chip said.

Mrs. Carver reached in her handbag and pulled out her checkbook. She wrote a check for a thousand and handed it to Howie.

"It'll come out of their allowance for the next ten years," she told her sons, and then faced Howie. "I'll have your car gassed up and ready for your return. We'd love to have you spend the night at the White House."

Mary turned back toward her sons. "By the way, you're both grounded."

Chip shrugged his shoulders. "Whatever! Heroes get no respect. Wait until I call CNN again. I'm going to Ohio State, so you better get used to it. Dare say they won't ground me."

Philly laughed. "So am I!"


Chapter Twenty-Six


When the boys woke up around noon, Howie had long risen. He had had breakfast with the first lady and was sent off with two gifts with a kiss on the cheek.

The boys had also missed their father's speech in Columbus. He had told his supporters there that his sons were leaving their father's protection to the Secret Service that day. Several thousand voters found the president's explanation very humorous.

With the president due back in the late afternoon, the first lady was also preparing for the arrival of the British Prime Minister and his family, due also before dinner. There were dozens of press requests for interviews with the First Boy. Mrs. Carver put everyone off until further notice.

The White House had taken on a festive appearance in preparation for Christmas. Mrs. Carver had taken it upon herself to bring in artifacts and furniture from the nineteenth century White House, all stored by the Smithsonian Museum. The late addition of Body Visual was an attraction she allowed in the State Room for a few weeks. The human anatomy demonstrations were very educational for her own children and their guests.

After lunch Chip invited Yuri over for an hour workout without their sensei. Unfortunately they had to wait until Yuri got home from an outing with his father. Once the boy did arrive they rushed to the State Room to see the new décor. There was a brief disappointment that each cadaver was covered by a hard plastic rectangular shield. Chip ran up and retrieved the brochure that had advertised this display. In the pictures none of the cadavers had any type of covering on them.

"Maybe we're supposed to remove these plastic casings," Philly suggested.

The boys pondered this action, examining the base and seeing the rubber-type molding that held each covering to its base. With a quick dash to the kitchen, Chip brought back a knife so the boys could pick away the sticky plastic from the base. Slowly they peeled away the adhesive substance, then, with combined strength, they lifted the casing up and off the first figure.

A male athlete, pretending to throw a football, stood before them in all his glory.

"Awesome!" Chip said and had his brother and Yuri agree with him.

"So that's what we look like under our skin?" Yuri asked.

"Yeah, but we have longer penises," Philly added.

"Sure hope, Yuri, that you remembered to bring a condom. That'll be so funny."

"Almost forgot," Yuri replied and whipped out a single wrapped condom from his pocket.

Their patience allowed them to pick away one more plastic casing. They just as quickly picked up all the clear gel before the butler or the Chief Usher had a cow. One female and one male were available to touch, and what's the use of having these cadavers if they couldn't touch them, they each agreed.

The boys headed downstairs to the first dojo in all the White House history. Yuri had arrived with his gi under his arm. So proud of his yellow belt he had walked with his gi slung over his shoulder to show the world. Ambassador Pacheko was also exceedingly pleased with his son's new hobby. He had hinted to Puton that his boy was taking judo, though Looper was teaching them several different Martial arts. President Puton had sent back a congratulations and words of encouragement.

The boys knew enough to practice their falls and beginning throws. Not quite as strenuous or tedious in its discipline, the boys still had a good time. Yuri was a youngster who loved to hang around the White House, and Chip and his brother considered it a teen thing to do. It was always Mrs. Carver who played the ogre and dismissed Yuri like Mrs. Gleaver did to her sons, Beaver and Wally's friend, Eddie Hasko. Not that Yuri was an Eddie, but life in the White House, at least to him, was far more entertaining than living with his father. The young Russian, though well-mannered and always courteous, didn't fully understand the value and historical nature of the White House furniture and furnishings.

With the family of the Prime Minister due, Yuri was politely asked to leave.

"Gee, Mom, Yuri just got here," Chip complained that it had only been two hours.

Before Yuri left the boys they all ran into the State Room to fit on the condom. Lifting the skinned penis, the boys cracked up in their examination of this flaccid organ. Yuri said the obvious that, at one time, it had had its ups and downs. Philly loved when his two judoka buds cracked him up. With a quick glimpse to see its underbelly, it was Chip who saw an opening the size of a quarter. Inside were colored cords, making Chip think that this cadaver had a lighting system. This he'd check later when his mother wasn't hounding them to get ready for company.

Yuri did remember to ask Chip a question from his father. "Did you give that note from my papa to your dad?"

Chip stood with guilt on his face. "Oops. It's in my room. I'll give it to him after he kills me."

The Fletchers arrived before Air Force One returned to Andrews. The First Lady and her two daughters were on the front portico to greet what she considered the first family of England. Two teens, almost the same age as her own sons, wore suits like their father, while the ten-year old daughter was in a pretty pink dress. Melissa was quick to take the younger girl under her wing.

The families had met once before in London for a quick state dinner and a meet-the-royalty engagement. Chip had found the eldest boy, Nathaniel, 17 now, rather snobbish, while their youngest boy at fourteen, Brice, was more compatible to Philly and their sports talk.

The Carver boys came bouncing down the stairs, dressed in casual shorts and tennis shirts, to greet their guests from England. Chip and Philly had smiles on their faces, yet were greeted by stoic handshakes from the more formal British youth. Chip's plan was to show his peers the Body Visual display. The ulterior motive being one of humor.

Instead, the Prime Minister directed the boys to shower after a long plane ride in preparation for the evening meal. Philly showed both boys to his room where they were to sleep, while Philly would sleep with Chip.

Chip appeared rather bored as he retreated to his room to play video games. A half-hour later Chip retreated to the bathroom between the two bedrooms, thinking nothing about having guests. His quick perusal of the shower curtain saw a nude form which he assumed to be Philly. On second glance the figure was heavier and a few inches taller. What was even better, the boy was masturbating without the knowledge of being watched.

Chip stripped quickly and stepped into the shower, completely startling Nathaniel. The boy got all flabbergasted and swiveled to face his own nozzle.

"Can't you see that I was...!" Nathaniel complained.

"Sorry, thought you were my brother. Guess that makes you a wanker in America," Chip joked. "Don't panic, I do my share."

"But not in front of people. Bloody lot, you got to show more discretion, Carver."

Chip smiled at the boy's panic and dialect. "Check this out, you bloody Brit, you once burned down my house and now you're in my shower. I think I have a right to help ya get rid of your little problem there. It's my right as a patriot."

Nathaniel glanced back over his shoulder, his hands still covering his erection. "Are you a bloody poof, Carver?" The boy grinned, like he had something now on this American teenager that he envied.

Chip mimicked his peer, then took the biggest chance of his life. "I don't know how you do it at Eton, but here in my shower you can take it with your dick toward me or against the wall. Your choice."

"You wouldn't," Nathaniel said.

"Try me. I'm a poof, remember?"

At five-nine and ten pounds lighter, Nathaniel eyed the almost six-foot American, a boy he found imposing and somewhat mystical. He turned and released his hands; the boner was still evident. Chip used caution in his approach, but once he had the boy's balls in his hands he engulfed the member in his mouth. With his knees on a rubber met, Chip gave his best effort and had the teen like putty in seconds. He teased bringing the teen to near orgasm, then withdrew. Feeling Nathaniel's knees buckle, the hips jutted forward, Chip moved his middle finger between the legs and into the anus. Resistance at first, there were moans and total surrender moments later. Chip knew he had him when the boy's hands surrounded his head to keep the insertion as deep as possible. The finger fuck became deeper, then with two and three fingers. The explosion of hot sperm flushed deep into Chip's throat while the sucking was relentless to make his peer almost collapse to his knees in total exasperation.

When Nathaniel rested his face on Chip's shoulder, it was an acceptance of being taken to euphoria. Chip kissed the boy, as if the conqueror gets his wish.

"Welcome to America. If I was president I'd grant you dual citizenship now," Chip said to his defeated opponent. "We could have avoided a couple of senseless wars if your king would've sucked off Washington."

Nathaniel smiled. "You've done this before."

Chip knew it was more rhetorical than an actual question. "To all my guests." He laughed.

Chip stood up with a raging hard-on himself. Masturbating into the other spray, it was erotic to have Nathaniel's eyes glued on this enlarged maleness. As an act of possession, Chip ejaculated on the boy's pubic hair, but Nathaniel just watched in amazement.

"Sorry about the milking, mate, but it's been two blimey days," Chip said in his fake English accent.

For two teens who had been reluctant to warm up to each other, if not suspicious, they now shared a secret that often bonded boys in friendship.

President Carver's helicopter had long landed on the South lawn. It was the Prime Minister who met the president for a change, as if this was his home. They had a good laugh over that.

Meanwhile Chip and Nathaniel slid down the banister of the staircase. This was not something tolerating in London at their home. Thankfully only a navy ensign was around to smile at the boys' brevity. Their first stop was to view the four cadavers of human remains. Far more congenial, Nathan, as he liked to be called, hysterically laughed at the sight of the condom.

They saw their siblings stroll in, waiting for a reaction. Melissa grinned, while her ten-year old companion wasn't sure exactly what to make of it. The Carver children were far more daring than their peers.

"Better remove it before dad sees it," Melissa warned. "He's already mad at you."

Chip had to chuckle at that. He smacked his lips, knowing he was pushing his luck and didn't really want to embarrass his mother. His removal was deliberate, lifting the flaccid penis to peel back the ribbed condom. Again he had another look at the colored cords which he now distinguished to be wires. Examining the body around muscles, veins and arteries, ribs and bones, there was no sign of a switch or gadget to make the cadaver light up or move. While the other kids moved over to check a female in ballet form, Chip looked into this hole underneath the penis to see a far more complicated inter-workings that weren't necessary to support an anatomy.

"What's the problem, mate?" Nathan asked, putting his arm around Chip's shoulders. They were like old school chums now.

"Oh, nothing. I'm intrigued about how they put this guy together, that's all."

Chip moved over to view the other nudes, humoring a ten-year old that this cadaver would be so much more attractive with a penis.

"Everyone for dinner!" the butler called from the doorway.

His pedantic expression always caused Philly to give one right back.

"Ta-ta, everyone line up for dinner," Philly kidded back and got the butler to almost smile.

At the long table there were few words said between father and sons. Adults stayed within their own collection of cordial talk that didn't include assassination attempts or Middle East turmoil. Even when Chip met eyes with his father, there was only that blank stare that either said, "You're one up this time around," or "I'm going to get you."

As hard as Chip tried to separate from his father's opinions and lifestyle, there was still that need that he wanted his father to love him.

A night in the theatre put Chip's curiosity about the cadaver to the back of his mind. Certainly restoring a human body for eternity required far more than Chip understood. He thought the whole process must be like taxidermy, but even his grandfather's stuffed deer didn't have wires inside.





Chapter Twenty-Seven


Thanksgiving morning arrived with four teenagers vying for bathroom space. Philly and Chip were used to it; yet, Brice and Nathan adjusted to four boys brushing their teeth or one taking a dump while Nathan did his once a week shave. Nathan even asked Chip if he was taking a shower that morning. Chip said to wait till after their morning bowling time.

With only two alleys and seven kids, bowling was a slow process, if not methodical. Chip's mind hadn't forgotten the cadaver and he decided on one more test, just for fun. He ran up to the State Room and picked up the female form, finding it lightweight and easily handled. From this experiment, he took three steps to the male athlete. It was so heavy he couldn't bulge it from the carpeted floor. Upstairs he flew to call Looper.

"Hi, Happy Thanksgiving," Chip greeted. "I suppose you'd like me to come over so you can stuff me."

"Well, hey, sport. Thanks, Happy Thanksgiving to you. Has your world balanced after your heroic deed?" Looper chuckled.

"I miss you already," Chip admitted. "I'd like you to come over for a few minutes so I can show you something."

"Chip, it's better that I abstain from the White House for a while. You know, your father has put me on leave. I'm not exactly welcome right now."

"Screw that! You're my friend, that's enough. No, really, there's something here that requires your attention. I'm not sure what it is."

"Is this a ploy to get me in your arms, young man?" Looper teased.

"No, I swear. Okay, I'd like that, but this is really serious. See, we got that Body Visual display, and one of those dummies has all sorts of wires in it. I'm concerned, that's all. One does, the other ones don't. Why is that?"

"Wires, huh? I'm sure to keep all those ribs and bones in place, that's what they require," Looper thought.

"Yeah, I thought about that, but these wires are below the penis, around the balls. They're colored, and the body is super heavy compared to the others. I tried the others. There aren't any wires up the girl's vagina. Kinda strange, huh? I guess if you don't think there's a concern, then don't bother. It would be good to give you a Thanksgiving hug. Mom would like that, too."

"Figures you'd be looking in those areas," Looper said. "Look, I'll pop over, but security probably won't let me in."

"I'll handle that. Hurry!"

"Can I bring a friend? We just happen to be having dinner together."

"Zach?! Cool! Cheating on me already, and we've only been apart for two days. I'll be waiting."

Chip went back to bowling while awaiting his guests. Having his cell phone in his pocket, he received a call a half-hour later from Looper.

"They have stopped us at the gate, kiddo. It ain't happening."

"Hang on, I'm on my way to get permission," Chip said and ran toward the Oval Office where he was sure his father was with the Prime Minister.

Nathan, finding his new friend daring and fascinating, trailed after him. Chip was everything he wasn't, brazen, opinionated, outspoken, sexually outgoing, and recalcitrant, a word he'd gotten from his father in describing other boys at Eton.

The president's secretary was off for the day, but a Secret Service agent stood by the door. Chip went right up in front of him.

"I want to see my father."

"He's in conference with the Prime Minister. Come back later."

"I don't give a shit!" Chip moved around the man and opened the door.

The agent was in a no-win situation. He didn't dare lay hands on the president's son. Following the boy and Nathan inside, an apology was his only resource. The president and prime minister were in idle chit chat, more shooting the breeze than diplomacy. Alain glanced at the agent, then his son and Nathan.

"That's quite all right, Mike." Back to his son, "We're in a meeting right now, Chip. Can it wait?"

"Whatever. It can't wait. I have two friends at the front gate. I need your permission to let `em in."

"Who are your friends?"

"Looper and Zach"

"I'm not familiar with Zach."

"He's a policeman, a friend of Looper's."

"You said he was your friend."

"That's right. I can't have a policeman as a friend? Think of it as being an influence on me in a positive way."

Nathan smiled, then felt better for it when his father gave him the evil eye.

"You know that Looper is on leave until we straighten this out," the president said.

"No, you straighten it out on your own time, not mine. As your press secretary told CNN, and, yes, I watch the news, he said that it's natural for the president's children to gain a trust with the agents trained to protect us. Look at it that I've gained this amazing trust. Looper's around more than you are."

President Carver didn't wish to make a scene with the Prime Minister there. "Our Thanksgiving dinner is coming up. Make it quick."

Just as he nodded to the agent to call the gate, he had final words for his son. "We need to have a pow wow, young man."

"Sounds good to me. How do I dress? Feathers? Loin cloth? Facial paint?"

The president frowned. "I can only hope you grow to be old and wise." Alain said it more to humor the prime minister.

"Okay. But to be old and wise I have to be young and stupid first. I'd just like to have my father in my corner along the way."

"We'll talk about that later. You two run along."

Chip called as soon as they were outside the door. "They're letting you in. Don't pick your nose or scratch your balls. This is the White House."

Looper laughed.

As the boys walked toward the side entrance, Nathan was impressed. "Man, Chip, you have major balls. I could never talk to my father like that."

"You have to look at your parents sometimes as obstacles who get in the way of us exploring the world and finding the truth. They think we should wait until we're twenty-one to find out that they're basically doing this parenting thing as they go along. They don't know anything more than we do. Forget the major balls, I kinda hoped you'd have noticed my dick. It's longer than my finger."

"Yeah, I noticed. I've never felt like that before."

"Wait until you get nine inches up there. Your mind spins and gongs like Big Ben."

Nathan smiled in the midst of wondering why he was thinking of boys instead of girls for a change. As both Looper and Zach went through the metal detectors and the pat down, other agents were surprised to see their fellow agent. Chip hugged them both, then introduced Nathan.

"Nathan, this is Washington's Sex Task Force. They'd like to speak with you about taking a shower naked in America. Normally you have to be eighteen. Just kidding. I can't have you returning to England and destroy the tourist trade of cute teenagers over here."

"This better be good," Looper said.

Chip whispered on their way to the State Room, "I'm just horny."

He got an arm around the neck and a Dutch rub in return.

Approaching the body art, as it was, Chip had Looper pick up the female first. Looper found it lightweight, and only barely gave a heave to the male. He examined the torso, then underneath the penis. Down on his knees he did a more thorough examination. Finally he ripped off the scrotum in front of everybody, opening up the genital area for better observance. Zach had an expression of shock that his friend had just destroyed the genitals of this expensive piece of art. Looper jerked his head up at Chip.

"I want you and your friend to get all your siblings out on the South lawn, like, right now! Zach, I will need your help."

When Chip just stood there with a dumb look, he got kicked in the butt.

"Get going!"

Several agents were in the vicinity along with navy personnel. Looper ran into the hallway and calmly called over one of his peers.

"Ralph, Crossbow 5, no test. Let's get everyone out of the White House, now!"

Ralph Simone was a twenty-year veteran. He well respected Looper for the man's intelligence and insight. A rapid call on his cell phone had people scrambling, and all on Thanksgiving. Looper found out where the president was and raced toward the Oval Office. No run ran in the White House, except for the children, and that was rare these days. No more had he approached the doorway when Looper saw his fellow agent.

"Crossbow Five, out of the way!"

They both hustled in. Alain glanced over, rather angry at the disruption.

"Agent McElroy, I sure hope you haven't barged in here expecting my attention!"

"Mr. President, Crossbow five. Let's go."

Alain knew better to challenge any emergency code. He rose, asked the Prime Minister to join him and they were whisked their presence from the office. Throughout the hallways and in every wing people moved in efficiency, yet in a sense of urgency. Everyone knew that Crossbow Five meant an imminent attack, probably nuclear. This was commonly expected from an incoming aircraft or launched missile within the boundaries of the United States; otherwise they would have had more time to take action.

Looper's command offset any retreat to bomb shelters below the White House or even through the tunnels leading to the Treasury building. Though they tried to make any departure appear normal, there was a chaos in its necessity and the element of time. Looper coordinated the actions on his com device, ordering not one helicopter, but three. Andrews reacted with efficiency and had jet aircraft in the air in less than three minutes.

The First Lady only wanted to scoop up her children wherever they were. She wasn't allowed to even look for them, so fluent were the agents in escorting her to the South lawn. No more had she touched the grass than her kids bounded around her. Light snow flurries had begun, which didn't help everyone staying warm.

Looper had set off a series of events that had the White House bustling with activity. He was soon to have his supervisor run him down on the first floor, a siren blaring above their heads.

"Why isn't the president down in the PEOC?" Edward Bidgoe asked, aware that all protocol had been circumvented.

"I believe the device isn't conventional," Looper answered.

"You're shitting me," his supervisor said in disbelief. "Are you telling me that someone got a nuclear warhead inside the White House?"

"I'm not a bomb specialist, Ed, but I'd say it's big enough to level a few city blocks. We need to evacuate any non-essential staff in the mall."

"Thank God it's Thanksgiving. The police and fire department are coming. What are we to tell them?"

"That's why they pay you the big money," Looper said and moved away.

Atop the Treasury Building to the east and the Old Executive Office Building to the west, the Secret Service people who were usually crouched were now standing, showing their full profiles with guns up as they scanned the area with their binoculars. Numerous agents on the south perimeter fence only knew that a full evacuation was underway. They figured gas leak, a called-in bomb threat, or someone had got into the White House unnoticed. Rumors abounded every second. What was strange, even agents on the roof, normally prepared to shoot down any incoming aircraft with guided missiles, were also being evacuated.

From the south came the whining of rotors of not one, but three helicopters. These VH-3 helicopters came in low and fast, the first landing on the White House pad just south of the ground-floor entrance. Again a ring of agents with weapons advanced around the chopper. A Marine crewman in a green flight suit pulled the door open and stepped out. Immediately the open bay was filled with the president and his family. Within seconds it vibrated, then lifted off, climbing rapidly into the westerly chill of a Thanksgiving afternoon.

The helicopter first headed toward the OEOB, then south, then northwest, its curved flight path designed to confuse someone who might be out there with a surface-to-air missile. Marine One, as it was called, was equipped with the newest variant of the Black Hole IR-suppression system for protection. The kids had flown on such a helicopter, but never in this state of emergency.

Everyone was tense, pensive, in complete confusion of why they were rushed from their home. Alain glanced at his eldest, thinking that if this boy had something to do with this, hell would be paid.

"Looper thinks it's a bomb," Chip said to break the accusatory line of eyesight.

"A bomb where?" the president asked.

"In one of the cadavers, part of the display in the State Room. It's very heavy."

"My God," Mary said in disbelief.

"Wouldn't those be checked upon arrival?" the president asked, as if his family would know.

"They look like normal bodies, Dad; plus, they had this casing covering them. No one would think that anyone would put a bomb in one of those."

"Who found it?" Alain asked, expecting the obvious.

Philly pointed to his brother. "Chip found it, Dad. He's saved your ass again, our family's and the Fletchers."

"Philly!" Mrs. Carver yelled. "That's totally inappropriate. Apologize to your father."

"Sorry, Dad," Philly said and felt bad for saying it.

"That's okay, son, I got your message. I've been pretty rough on you two lately."

"It was Looper's call," Chip made sure to mention. "I want him back."

"We'll see," his father responded.

"No, we won't see. Promise me he's back."

Only this sixteen-year old could make him appear like a non-commissioned officer taking orders from a general. Alain gave the boy a thumbs up without comment. Chip locked that thumbs up as a promise that wouldn't be broken, or shit would fly.

"If this is one of your schemes to get Looper back I'll send you both to Guantanamo Bay," the president said without a smile.

Chip leaned forward. "I can't speak for Looper, but I'm sure I can make a few Muslims believe they're in nirvana."

"Chipper, behave yourself," Mrs. Carver said to her son.

The president twisted in his chair and saw a helicopter following in the distance. That would be the Prime Minister and his family. Their security detail had responded brilliantly and followed the American's lead. A Marine captain was present in the cabin. He was in constant communication with the Pentagon and with the White House. The captain informed the president of all the proceedings and the current situation.

"Mr. President, the third aircraft has taken off with the device in question. A bomb squad is waiting at Andrews. Agent McElroy is suggesting an immediate disposal in ocean waters. Your call."

"Take the advice of Agent McElroy. He's in charge of this deployment."

"Yes, Mr. President."

Michelle was practically in tears. "Our Thanksgiving dinner, Mom, will we still be able to have it?"

"I doubt it, honey. I'm sure they will have to go over our home with a fine tooth comb before we return."

The third helicopter, a VH-60, had two experts in bomb disposal aboard. They instantly had gone to work on the one male anatomy. Though all four cadavers were carefully taken onboard, only one carried the suspicious cargo. A Geiger counter revealed that they were in possession of a nuclear device; the encasement had been designed to hinder any detection of radiation or access to the bomb. Professional in their job they balked at removal or disarming the device. Detecting two booby traps proved their point that one mistake would likely create a midair nuclear detonation.

Receiving direct orders, via the President of the United States, the VH-60 flew out over the Atlantic, heading north by northeast. Within the hour they would be refueled.

The sun was already dipping below the western horizon by the time Camp David came into view. The helicopter settled on its pad with its precious cargo and dozens of marines sprang to welcome the First Family on this surprise visit. A Marine major saluted the president as he stepped off first.

"Welcome to Camp David, sir."

The boys jumped down as Philly returned the salute again. He was just something he'd done for three years.

"Major, we have another chopper coming in behind us. Make sure the Prime Minister is comfortable and see to his family right away."

This compound, as remote and secure a location as anything within a hundred miles of Washington, might have been the perfect vacation spot on this Thanksgiving day if that had been the prearrangement. President Carver didn't like not being in control and having his finger on every conceivable play in his playbook. This incident had too many questions, and how in hell did a bomb get in the White House?!

Feeling like a victim under federal protection, his wife added to his frustration.

"Alain, when will this all end? I knew when I married you that politics had its downside, but we have four children who don't deserve to be targets for some deranged terrorists. I'm sorry, but I've had enough."

Mary caught her breath, and took to heart her own frustration. The president understood his wife's concern.

"My dear, our kids have learned to be resilient. They are all old enough to comprehend what has happened. Yes, we've had a disruption but no harm will come to our family."

"Sure, thanks to Chip and Looper. Why do you treat those two with such disdain? I swear, Alain, if you don't adjust your views you're going to lose that boy for good."

The president sat on the bed in contemplation of what his wife had just said. He tossed the necessities of a party platform against his family's personalities. Chip was a handful, but fuck it!, the boy had the heart of a lion and took after his old man. Damn! That made him proud. No one, not even a four-star general, would dare talk to him like his eldest son. If the boy kept training in those martial arts that Looper had started him on, Alain wasn't so sure how long he could have a physical presence over the teen. He had heard by another agent what had happened at school. Good for my Chipper, Alain thought. My kid can back his play, just like young Philly. Alain turned toward his wife who was adjusting her makeup after this unforeseen disruption.

"Honey, I'm going to make it an effort with my son. What he did in Indianapolis....well....he should be my hero, not vice-versa. Do you realize I haven't even thanked him?"

Mary strolled back in the bedroom and eyed her husband. "Alain, your son is hurting because his father won't support him. Why do you think he's so defiant? Boys grow up to be men, men who are martyrs for their cause because they have wounds of not being accepted. You're creating a monster, and I don't mean that in a negative way like he's going to be some type of psychopath. That boy is going to fight you tooth and nail until you show your love."

Thirty agents stayed behind in the White House and searched every nook and granny for any additional objects that looked eschew. The CIA and FBI, with their unlimited resources, had begun an investigation into the company that had furnished these Body Visual cadavers. What was amazing, this transaction had been generated under the nose of their own Smithsonian Library. One of the suspects was dead, killed by two teenagers a year before. Two other warehouse workers had disappeared and hadn't been at work for several days. An FBI agent found their bodies in the city morgue, unidentified from being burned to death. Within hours the Maryland State Police, Secret Service, FBI, ATF, and all the intelligence agencies were working on the case. They desperately wanted to inspect the bomb which was at that moment falling to the depths of the Atlantic Ocean. On its dive to the ocean floor it detonated at just under six thousand feet. The explosion was relayed back to the president within minutes. A marine was at the president's side seconds later.

"Mr. President, we have a report of detonation. A small nuclear device, one kilo in size was destroyed at nineteen hundred hours."

"Thank you, Major. Uh, I'm not all that familiar with various nuclear efficiencies. What are we looking at here?"

"Sir, a bomb of this magnitude would level the better part of Washington."

The president was beginning to feel like a cat with nine lives. He reached the Secret Service supervisor within seconds by phone. Agent McElroy was to be reinstituted and given full rein of all White House activities. Alain then went in search of his sons.

Like a captain of a ship the Chief Usher was quite willing to sacrifice his life rather than abandon the White House, a home he personally felt responsible for. After securing the premises, Andrew tracked down Agent McElroy by phone and suggested a quick remedy for the First Family's day. Another helicopter was immediately commandeered and all the trappings of Thanksgiving dinner were shipped southward toward Camp David.












Chapter Twenty-Eight


To escape two younger brothers who eyed them like they were the key to an amusement park hidden amongst Camp David's secrets, Chip and Nathan moved out between the various cottages around the main house. They were stuffed from double helpings of mashed potatoes, stuffing, plenty of turkey and pumpkin pie. Chip leaned back against a cottage exterior and burped.

"Man, what a day. You don't get this type of air in the White House."

He chuckled in the cold night air. In the short distance from this cottage were solid woods.

"I haven't been in the country in, well, three weeks," Nathan replied with a giggle. "We went fox hunting with Lord Fagan at his estate."

"Was Oliver there?" Chip asked but Nathan didn't get the joke. "I suppose you play polo, too, ole chap?"

"Not as good as the princes," Nathan said in tease.

The boys moved out to where they barely were within the wood's edge. Chip pressed his new friend against a large oak and moved the boy's arms up high on the tree. He encased his fingers into Nathan's before he kissed him deeply. Nathan was hesitant on this French kissing and jerked back.

"I'm not a poof, Chip."

It wasn't so much a confession as a reason that this English boy would only go so far. Chip didn't surrender his grip.

"So two boys can't kiss unless they're both gay? Is that a written rule in all of Britannia?"

Nathan broke a smile. "Nah. I just thought...well, if you thought we were boyfriends."

"I like you, Nathan. You're not as snobbish as much as I thought you were. You just need to let go, have some fun, be more...un-British."

This time Nathan laughed. "You make me laugh with everything you do, Chip. I couldn't talk to my father like you do to yours. He'd kill me. I do owe you my life, you bloody fool."

With that Nathan bent forward and planted one on Chip's lips. Chip pressed his erection against Nathan's. Their grind was seconds away from satisfying their moans. Chip unzipped his peer, but that's when a flashlight came at them from fifty meters away. The boys scrambled, giggling in their sprint back to behind a cottage. The guard didn't give chase. If he'd known it was Chip Carver he might have stayed back and enjoyed the show.

In bed Chip had his hands behind his head, cradled comfortably in a pillow. Nathan was turned sideways toward him, a knee over his bare groin. They had each come twice in an hour. On the nightstand a clock with red digital numbers shined one-ten.

"Yuri would like you," Chip said softly, and then had to explain to Nathan who Yuri was.

"Oh, shit!" Chip sat up, shocking his bed mate.

Instantly he shot on his pajama bottoms and darted toward his parent's bedroom. By two surprised marine guards, Chip sprang into a dark room. He stood there in the dark to allow his eyes to adjust, then shook his father awake.

" up." Alain had a policy to be woken on any emergencies, which were common when you were the most powerful figure in the world.

"Uh? What? Something wrong? Oh, it's you, Chip. Son, I'm tired. I looked for you earlier. Where did you disappear? Can this wait?"

"No, Dad. I forgot something. Sorry, Mom, didn't mean to wake you. Anyway, Yuri told me a few weeks ago that the Kremlin was offered this same collection of cadavers. They're in display in the Kremlin."

It took a few seconds for the president's mind to focus. He quickly swung out of bed without words. Chip was glad his father was naked and his mother's boobs were visible. Maybe it's what they needed.

President Carver swung on his robe and headed out in the peaceful quiet of the main rooms. He ordered a marine to bring him a phone. The Russian President was actually on his way to Washington. President Puton found this possible scenario incredulous. In America, yes, their casualness with these terrorists groups had bitten the American people in the ass too many times. In Russia they were more reactionary to radicalism with their no tolerance policy. Vadimir acknowledged that he would contact the Kremlin just to make sure. President Carver assured the Russian president that he should not be concerned for his safety, all possible precautions had been restored and he'd be at the White House by noon to receive this important world leader in conjunction with the British Prime Minister who had already arrived.

Alain had to shake his head after his thirty-minute conversation with the Russian president. The man was so smug as to be silly—`You Americans are so casual in your approach to terrorists,' Vadimir had said with his usual cockiness. Alain didn't wish the same surprise on the Russians, though it would serve them right. He moved to his son's room to thank him.

The boys' room was so pitch black, only the open bedroom door supplied a stream of light that flooded the queen bed. It was easy to distinguish a boy resting his head on another's chest. Alain was sure it was Philly, sort of a brother thing. He knew they often slept together. Above the two boys he saw his son's eyes open, and the other boy he had to move closer to see that it was the Prime Minister's son, fast asleep. Alain gave a finger sign on his lips not to wake up Nathan. He bent down, kissed his boy on the forehead and circled Chip's naked chest with his arm.

"Way to look out. President Puton thanks you."

It wasn't true, at least the thank you, but if anything Alain wanted to show his son that everyone was extremely grateful. Chip gave his dad a thumb's up, reached up to bring his father's face toward him and planted one on his dad's cheek. Alain's eyes had adjusted and couldn't help but notice Nathan's bare back that showed no sign of clothes. His son's open torso was bare to the sheet that barely covered his genitals. Judgment wasn't in the cards that night. For some reason he sat there. He had no idea that the two teens had become friends. His pinkie separated slightly under the sheet and down his son's hips. Yup, he was naked. Could it be possible? Possibly out of compassion for his son or to show a tacit approval, Alain moved his fingers through Nathan's hair. After all, did not all teenagers appear innocent asleep? The boy's eyes darted open; his expression might have been more appropriate for a horror movie.

Jerking back, Nathan apologized immensely for even being in bed. Surely this would set England's and the United States' allegiance to each other a major setback.

"No, no, no, son, it's okay. I didn't mean to disturb your sleep," the president said as apologetic as possible.

Nathan huddled up on the other side of the bed, his knees to his chest. So scared was the teen that Chip's dad would certainly tell his own father that he had caught the two boys in bed together, naked at that.

Nathan pleaded. "Please don't tell my father."

Alain was astounded that he had frightened the British boy. He smacked his son's ass under the sheet before taking off his slippers.

"Slide over."

Fully dressed the president moved underneath the sheet as Chip scooted closer to Nathan. It had been a long time to cradle his eldest in his hands, but that's exactly what he did. Whipping his hands around Chip's waist he moved his youngster into the curvature between chest and knees. Settling this bond, Alain had a good sideways look at Nathan, still bunched up in fear.

"Young man, in our little world being a knight on a white horse often makes people assume that we're one-hundred percent purity. It's all rubbish of course. Vices go with being human. At your age your beauty deserves recognition, and what better age than to share what excites you most? Your secret won't leave this room."

"Thanks, Mr...ah, President Carver," Nathan said. "My father wouldn't understand."

"Really? I find the Prime Minister very liberal in his thinking. I'm sure he would be more than tolerant. My son has taught me a great deal about being more accepting. Who am I to tell anyone who to love if he or she makes your pecker stand up. We all need someone to make us feel good."

Nathan relaxed with the humor as Chip moved his head downward into his father's shoulder. It was as close to his father as he'd felt in years. All his resentment and animosity appeared to dissolve at that very second. Not that it was sexual but it felt really awesome to be held by his father, even though he was naked.

The president was enjoying this moment so much that he really didn't want to relinquish the moment. Only when he felt his boy melt to his grasp did he move his face besides Chip's. To do this with Philly might feel more than awkward.

"You know I love you," Alain spoke into his son's ear.

The president was shaken to the core when he heard the sobs. By God, what had he done to build a barrier that had just now been crumbled like a Berlin Wall? Chip was so emotionally wrought and embarrassed at having Nathan present that he barely got the words out.

"I love you, too. I've been really mean, I'm sorry."

Alain hadn't cried in years; actually, he couldn't remember the last time he had showed his emotions, outside of anger. He brought up his hands and pushed Chip even more into his chest. They were a father and son for that moment. A deep breath to gain his composure and Alain kissed his son again on the cheek.

"Okay, you two, there's still a few hours of sleep we can all capture.

Nathan crawled back under those blankets.

Alain reached down and pinched his son's bare ass. Any more words would not have sufficed to how he felt. As Alain departed he was humoring himself that maybe, just maybe, diplomacy might best be served in bed.

Chip had done it to himself again. He was beginning to think he was a big cry baby. To regain his status with Nathan, he also took a few deep breaths, and then reached over to bring his British friend back to the fold of his neck. He had just gained a new trust in his father, and it didn't hurt when Nathan snuggled back.

"Your dad is cooler than mine," Nathan said softly.

"My dad won't burn you," Chip said with confidence. "It's kind of funny that he's going to think you're gay now."

Nathan pinched Chip in the ass. "That's not funny. You've got to tell him I'm not."

"Hey, everything's going to be fine. Looper tells me that; says he can't predict my future, but one day we'll be happier than we have ever thought possible. And I feel really good having a naked boy in my bed."

The boys laughed. Neither teen was sleepy again, so Chip explained the evening's turmoil. It set off another dilemma that was unforeseen.

"My father has said something about getting those figures in our Parliament for a show."

Nathan rolled back the sheet and blanket and started to run out of the room.

"Nathan! Clothes, you know, cover your butt."

"Oh, yeah." Nathan slipped on his pants and T-shirt, and then ran to his father's bedroom with Chip right behind. Before he entered he amusedly hinted to Chip, "I caught them when I was ten. Wouldn't it be great?"

At practically two in the morning that wasn't likely to happen. The Prime Minister was as startled to be woken up as Chip's father. His parents hadn't really understood exactly how the bomb had been planted within the White House, nor had they seen the physical masterpiece in the State Room. Once the details were given the Prime Minister shook off his wooziness and hustled to call England where it was seven in the morning. For certain the Parliament had taken possession of two pairs of human remains, sculpted like athletes in physical movement only two days before. They would be examined immediately.

Neither world leader received as much sleep as they would have liked. Both were up for coffee, eggs and bacon by six o'clock. Word had been received from the Kremlin that a plane carrying cargo, supposedly these physical remains, had exploded over the Ural Mountains on its way to Siberia for disposal. The nuclear detonation was picked up by satellites around the world.

Scotland Yard was able to defuse the timing mechanism within the cadaver. The bomb's examination would greatly benefit the CIA's request for details of components and configurations which would denote exactly where the bomb came from and its likely terrorists.

Only then did the president realize that if he had not woken up Nathan, London might now have looked worse than the days of the German V-2 attacks. It had all started with Chip, though. The boy had to be rewarded. Being the best father he could would suffice for a start.

The president and prime minister's families returned to the White House at ten o'clock the following day. All the staff were on the South Lawn, not so much to greet the president, but to give Chip Carver applause and a sincere thank you from every soul there.

Chip blushed and wanted to defer the thanks to Looper. The crowd wouldn't hear of it, since it was Looper who gave all the credit to this teenager who wasn't always the most popular person roaming this mansion.

A half-hour from the Russian president arriving by motorcade, Homeland Security notified the president that they had arrested two black Muslims in Philadelphia, thanks to pictures taken on surveillance when Chung had his meeting at a warehouse on the Potomac. Homeland Security had its own means of interrogation than from the CIA or even the Secret Service. A simple lie that Chung had been arrested and had given up these two men as accomplishes motivated these two Muslim Americans to sing like canaries. Recruited by Chung two years earlier they knew of the imminent attacks on the three governments' prize landmarks, but were not directly involved in the planting of the devices. They did reveal that the nuclear device came over the Mexican border near El Paso, Texas, an underground tunnel that had yet to be discovered.

Within minutes President Carver had all but ordered the Chinese Ambassador to the White House, ASAP. Not even giving the man the respect of the Oval Office, Alain met the Chinese representative in the East Room.

"Where's your son?" The question was asked without any of the cordial prerequisites of prior meetings.

"I've not seen my son in several months, Mr. President."

The president eyed this short, stout Chinese man with suspicion, as if the man's words were an outright lie.

"Ambassador Chung, an overt act of war has been committed against the United States of America, the United Kingdom, and the Soviet Union. All signs point to a Chinese manufactured nuclear weapon and your son being the mastermind of such operation."

"Mr. President, I find this meeting most unsettling. I know nothing about any overt act of war, nor would my country sell or allow any nuclear weapons to be distributed outside of its own country. Surely you must be mistaken."

"I assure you, Ambassador, that those guilty of this attempted attack on our countries will face our justice, and it will not be protected by diplomatic immunity. We will not send notes of protest or allow your son free passage back to China. We will not call a special meeting of the UN Security Council so you can stall or labor our complaints. If you cannot corral your citizens from invoking hatred and their demonic violence, we will, and our justice will extend far beyond our borders."

If not embarrassed, Ambassador Chung was certainly shamed. "I will relay your concerns, Mr. President, but I can assure you that our Chairman will not be pleased with such accusations or threats."

"Excellent, I would hope not."

The president stood up as a sign to the ambassador that he had more pressing matters to get to.

The White House gave President Puton and his current wife all the pomp and circumstance due to a visiting dignitary, red carpet and all. It wasn't ironic that all three head-of-states were present on that day or that their countries had each parried an attack meant to demoralize their central governments. If the bomb had not been discovered at the White House, all three leaders would be dead within two hours.

President Puton had once headed the old KGB, the "Sword and Shield of the Party." Since then the Russian republic had teetered on the brink of anarchy as her citizens groped for a demonstration of democracy. Not that Puton didn't mind anarchy, for this is what Lenin had used to come to power. Puton craved strong rule and organization.

Three jovial smiles posed for the press ready with a thousand questions, none of them to be answered that morning. They walked to the Oval Office by more security than anyone dared to count. Beneath them on a carpet of honor was the Great Seal of the President of the United States, covered though with part of a sofa and chair.

"Welcome gentlemen," Alain greeted again as he sat in his favorite chair and it wasn't behind his desk.

Around them were interpreters, several agents, and two navy ensigns, making sure that everyone had the refreshment of their choice. If the men felt like survivors on this day, none of them acted in relief. They'd sooner deny God than deny their ideas and good fortune. Their small talk centered on the on-going investigation of how each of their governments had fallen victim to being suckered into putting a nuclear weapon within their own buildings. Heads would roll, but not these political figures. No one would have suspected that this meeting was about the Chinese and their undermining the world's financial empire. They each eyed the other with judgments that preceded any debate.

Prime Minister Fletcher was the more neutral of the three, a big-league negotiator, but not a mindless partisan. His fellow leaders were seen as extremists, one far left, the other far right; both thinking they had a monopoly on wisdom.

Alain thought that President Puton might just want to meet the teenager who saved his ass, if not the Kremlin. "I can have my son, Chip, join us later, President Puton. I'm sure you'd like to meet the boy who made this meeting possible to the extent of actually finishing it."

Alain and Prime Minister Fletcher might have smiled, but the Russian stayed stern. This Russian leader played games of one-upmanship that never ceased, even when social graces were called for. He appeared to speak and understand English when it benefited him most.

"We have this joke in my homeland that the most dangerous place for a politician is between a faggot and a camera."

Alain wasn't quite sure he'd heard that word right. He didn't even know the Russians had such a slur. Either way he was far more offended than he'd ever been in his political career by a world leader.

"Possibly, sir, you're not aware that this is a very offensive word in English," the president rebuked, trying his best to hold his anger.

President Puton appeared surprised. "Is it not what you call homosexuals, Mr. President? Your son, is he not effeminate? So says my intelligence."

Though agents are trained to be similar to English guards in front of their posts, there probably wasn't a normal heartbeat in that room. Alain knew the Russian president was hardly a defender of gay rights, almost to the point of making them enemies of the state in his crackdown. Oddly, this diatribe with a bigot made the president examine his own homophobia and antipathy toward the gay movement. Slowly his son's words and actions had eroded his thinking.

"Homosexuality is simply a sexual orientation, Vadimir. It has nothing to do with how a person acts or expresses themselves. I assure you that my son is not effeminate and, actually, is quite masculine in his pursuits. Chip is currently studying martial arts."

This impressed the Russian president, since he, himself, was a judo black belt. He did appear to scoff at the implication, but continued to speak in his broken English. "We are not so prone to allow these, what you call, gay people to marry or accept benefits because they like each other. Your son's words have certainly conflicted with your own political statements and agenda, Mr. President."

President Carver knew he had been put on the spot, the leader of the Republican Party, and one who should have nodded, if not found humor in Puton's insight of a sexual orientation found totally unacceptable by the far right.

"Primum non nocere," the president started.

Hardly a reality for a world leader, `do no harm' had a moral favor that was at the root of every decision a leader of a country must perceive.

"We've had presidents in our country who believed that our rights didn't come from our Creator, but from the government." Alain glanced at the Prime Minister. "I've never found favor with your Edmund Burke who suggested that a man should consider his rights as "an Englishman" rather than simply a "man." We must all advance beyond our historical prejudices to gain a perspective of the modern world. Our populations are, give or take, ten percent gay. How many millions of men and women are we depriving happiness to because of our bureaucratic dogma? I can appreciate a socialist with strong principles, but not one with misguided morals. In my own responsibilities I cannot shred our own Constitution by denying a minority of our citizens the right to exercise their freedom of sexuality. If America had proven anything to the world, it is that all men are the same, and given the same freedom and the same opportunity, they will all prosper to the limit only of their own abilities."

The British Prime Minister had long sensed a thick cloud in the Oval Office, a point of reference that was as close as debating religion. He smiled when addressing his close friend and confidant.

"You have to be careful, Mr. President, what you send out there in the world. Being a gay advocate is roguishly charming."

That even got a laugh from the Russian, after a more careful interpretation was given him.

"Andrew, we might think we know our children, but, trust me on this, they have secrets beyond our noses."

Alain didn't dare betray a trust between Nathan, Chip and himself. Let the Prime Minister find out for himself. The president redirected the topic to a more integrated global political and economic structure, one that would force China to cooperate. It was the usual crisis that the United States loved to create, then spend billions on finding a way to solve it. With only ideas and no clear solution to an on-going problem, the men departed to the Rose Garden and a slew of reporters and mass media. There the men smiled, like a trilogy of saviors for all mankind.

President Carver positioned himself in the middle, the true arbitrator between and inclusive of world power. His order to a valet to have his eldest join them was quickly put into motion. Within the minute, young Chip, dressed in a suit and tie he detested immensely, moved into the Rose Garden to the flashes of bulbs and total attention away from three adults.

Alain introduced his son, his personal hero, he appraised his boy. Putting Chip between himself and the Prime Minister, it accomplished more than one purpose. Certainly the Russian president would feel uncomfortable having a gay teenager too close; secondly, the picture was shifted to family values. Everyone knew that Vadimir had divorced, his family in shambles after discovery of several mistresses, including one Olympic gymnast.

Questions, fast and furious, were avoided like a bees that were dancing amidst the hundreds of roses that had survived the first chill. Photos of the president with his children had been rare, especially with so much protection to keep them out of the limelight.

President Puton was not one to be left out of any celebration. Feeling somewhat upstaged, he reached for Chip's forearm to bring the boy next to him in a surprise gesture. The press loved it, this powerful Russian figure with his arm around a skinny youth, two inches taller than the president. Chip smiled, soaking the attention and the strength of this man squeezing him close to his side. Muscles and power intrigued Chip. His mind went into a temporary fantasy of being taken by this world leader who was treating him like a kindred son. In humor Vadimir swung his hips underneath the boy in a judo throwing motion without the throw. The press loved it. The comical gesture isolated the Russian demonstration from the American and English presence. No more had Vadimir dropped Chip back to earth, then Chip swung into a wrist lock, surprising the Russian president and bringing laughter to the many reporters.

Alain was quick to raise his finger, waving it back and forth to his son to be careful.

Vadimir, stunned at the boy's temerity and finding himself captive in this Aikido maneuver, laughed with delight at the tit for tat. He hugged the boy and whispered into Chip's ear, "You have bigger balls than your old man."

His two cohorts on this world stage no longer had interest to him. This boy was intriguing, like a chess game the Russian couldn't figure out, a woman who was so mysterious as to spark an internal longing. Vadimir swung his arm around the boy's waist, now his possession and new interest as they all departed the Rose Garden to walk back into the West Wing. If there had been a competing interest for the boy's attention and the reporter's focus, the Russian President had won hands down.

Inside the hallway there began a discussion of Chip's interest in his studies of Aikido, while Vadimir modestly promoted his black belt status as an expert judoka. Chip's attention was already heightened, and what teenager wouldn't reveal his own dojo below the White House.

Like two boys more interested in play than diplomacy, Vadimir excused himself from this stuffy gathering of post-politics and moved his contingent behind the steps of a sixteen-year old. It wasn't usual protocol for any dignitary to traipse through the White House at his own leisure. If this was a tacit agreement, it was certainly infringed upon with the direction of the First Boy. Down to the basement this contingent walked, past kitchen workers, supply deliveries, and a variety of confused agents. Chip opened up this storage room, now a dojo with square tatami.

President Puton grinned and smelled the aroma of straw mats. Athletes related aroma with their history of hard work. Puton clapped his hands and suggested a workout. Chip gleamed with happiness. In the corner hung five gi, one of them Zach's, a close fit for the president.

Two Secret Service agents and two Russians, besides Chip and Vadimir, stepped into the room and closed the door at Vadimir's insistence. The two males stripped their clothes off and fitted their gi, one with an orange belt; the other with Looper's black obi. There wasn't a set of eyes that hadn't seen the nudity flash with the removal of underwear and the fitting of the gi pants. Vadimir even smiled at the boy's amazing penis, while Chip felt a surging of blood upon seeing the powerful presence of a trained athlete. Puton's butt was a firm mass of steel, a rising presence of male presence.

If there was competition amongst world leaders this Russian would win hands down. Chip followed the president's lead in warm-up, falls, and uchikomi—warm-up throws. Chip knew elementary throws, like Ogoshi, seio-nagi, ouchikomi, techniques that would eventually work into other hip and leg throws. Chip convinced the president that he could take throws, and was soon flying through the air, landing on the tatami with resounding thuds and slaps. In reversal, Chip found the president nonresistant, if not helpful, in assisting the teen by flying up and over in absolute poetry in motion to make the boy appear far more efficient than he was.

An hour of workout ended with Chip showing Vadimir a few Aikido techniques. The males bowed, then Vadimir grabbed the boy in a bear hug, kissed him on both cheeks and implied they were judoka for life. Vadimir pinched the teen's cheek.

"This is how two countries should negotiate, yes?" Vadimir asked to Chip and to the observant bodyguards. They all smiled with nods.

"Showers? Steam room? Sauna?" the president quizzed, since this was his typical spa routine after a workout.

Agent Foley stepped forward. "Mr. President, we have these in the presidential fitness room upstairs. If you care to follow."

Chip chuckled, never hearing this small weight room called a presidential fitness room. His dad wouldn't know a bicep from a tricep. He followed Vadimir's lead, stripping off his gi and stepping into a sauna that was just now being heated. Philly and he had once used this but found it excessively hot and uncomfortable.

This whole union of a Russian President and a son of a U.S. President using a sauna together was a new problem for the Secret Service. A debate was all done in mellow words over their headsets: Should one of them join these recipients? Is it necessary to just watch through the same window in the wooden door? Instead, four men stood patiently on the outside, while their naked protectees enjoyed the benefits of a healthy lifestyle.

As Vadimir rested back into a corner his one knee bent upward while he breathed in the dry heat. Chip took the adjacent corner, sitting on his towel and allowing his sweat to accumulate on his body. He traced his finger down his sweaty chest and around his belly button.

"You're a fine athlete," the Russian complimented the boy.

"Thank you, sir. I hope to become a good martial artist like yourself. I will practice what you've taught me."

"Your sensei is teaching you correctly. Listen, respect, and be a good student for your sensei, yes?"

"Yes, sir," Chip responded and let his eyes absorb the man's torso.

Before Chip realized what had transpired, his erection had slid up his thigh. His arm dangled downwards to overlap the arousal. One thing was apparent, President Puton was well aware of the boy's reaction.

"You have extraordinaire gift, young Carver. No wonder boys find you irresistible."

Already flush from the excessive heat, Chip was stuck for words. How did this man know that he liked boys? He tried to think of weird things to rescind his sexual awakening. Nothing appeared to work, but eventually they'd have to get up. In this state there was only one thing that made an erection go down—ejaculation. When the Russian moved his head backward to vent in the hot air, Chip moved his forearm up and down against the under belly of his penis. An increase in pleasure but a quick way to the masturbatory release. Breathing became more labored, but Chip subdued his moans and excitement to slight murmurs. It was tempting to close his eyes in surrender of this glorious feeling.

Occasionally Chip checked to see where Vadimir's face was. Faster and with more pressure Chip cupped his scrotum with his other hand, feeling the moisture and gyrations of his balls. The pressure built, closer and closer to climax. Having a bent leg became a hindrance, a slight cramp began to build. One more glance at President Puton to assure that he wasn't being watched. It was then that the Russian president straightened his right leg out, the top part of his foot slid under and now touched underneath Chip's buttocks. It was too obvious, the touching, though the man's head was still resting back against the wooden boards. Possibly the placement was by accident. Chip sensed the man's toes poking upward against his bare cheek. The strength of the toes lifted the soft muscle to where the big toe touched the anus. Chip realized this was no accident and opened his legs slightly. He then allowed his hamstring to rest upon the president's lower leg to secure this tantalizing. It couldn't be coincidence that this man was tormenting him. A big toe wasn't exactly what Chip desired to penetrate him, but it was the best offering for the moment.

The teenager released his forearm from this masturbatory pleasure to grab his penis with his fingers in full view if the adult wanted to watch. His legs began to straighten to the increased pleasure and Vadimir's toe pressing deeper into the moistness of an opening.

"Ooouuh," Chip sighed just above an audible vibe.

If it wasn't an invitation for the president to look, Chip couldn't have been more blatant in his request. His eyes closed in imagining that the Russian president was staring at his sex, now fully embraced in long up and down strokes. Toes flexed and Chip found his other hand had cupped behind the president's foot, pressing the toe deeper in its insertion. Jolts started at his feet that sent electrical charges through his legs and into the groin, but not stopping until his mind went dizzy with the beginning spurts of white liquid.

The first ejaculate was felt on his left shoulder while the following squirts flooded his chest and stomach. Still blind to his surroundings, Chip milked his penis until every last drop seeped from the engorged head. At last he flashed open his eyes to see a broad smile of a world leader delighted at the showing.

"Ah, to be young and beautiful again," Vadimir said to assure the youth that he approved.

Chip glanced downward to see the president's erection, not nearly as long as his own, but thick and firm. To put that organ in his mouth would be stupendous. He wasn't surprised when Vadimir's muscular hand reached over and milked the last few drops from the engorged head. The thumb squeezed and slid over the glans, almost tortuous after the initial ejaculation. Chip felt merciless to stop the torture and moaned relentlessly at the pleasurable act. Finally the torment stopped. Chip sat up, ready to do whatever this adult wanted him to.

As he moved off the bench, President Puton grabbed his towel and wiped the boy's sperm from his torso like a parent drying their son. The back of Chip's hand brushed against the president's erection, a tantalizer that would certainly lead to further acts.

"Run along, I'll be out soon," Vadimir said, apparently rejecting Chip's nonverbal readiness to return the pleasure.

Chip didn't wish to offend or appear a child who didn't get his way. He wrapped his towel around his waist that did nothing to hide the obvious protrusion. That wouldn't look good if he exited now. He got up next to the dull finished door with a vertical six inch window. A quick peek out and he saw all the agents in conversation without any attention paid to the sauna. This wasn't going to work. They would know he had an erection. Not that he had to get his way, but he wasn't going to be made a fool of by leaving the sauna in this condition.

The First Boy well knew his ability to flirt, to incite almost any male to ponder their own sexuality. With a mere dropping of his towel his ass advertised a gay boy's offering. Vadimir had withstood the temptation to devour this boy as he had so many women. To seduce the President of the United States' son would be an act that deserved the Noble Prize for Peace. He was more concerned of having one of their Secret Service agents glance in. It would be better just to recover from his arousal and depart. Possibly another time if he could ever get this lad in Russia.

With the dropping of the towel it became the boy's seduction that unnerved his very core, the internal resolve that had once made him a ruthless KGB agent and comrade to ruthless spies. His eyes locked onto a perfect specimen of boyish delight--an bubbly ass of such beauty no woman could match its superb shape and tightness. The sight made his dick twitch like a wild beast feasting its eyes on a fresh meal.

In quick response and one of urgency Vadimir slid off the bench with his dick straight and rigid. Right up behind the teen he pressed against the moist heat of warm buttocks. With another lean from the waist his lips touched into the boy's neck. So slippery were their bodies in sweat that Vadimir barely pressed into the teenager's ass cheeks then his erection was swallowed whole. He was sixteen again for those rarified seconds of euphoria. Instant ejaculation came with rubbery legs and total surrender to this boy's infatuation. He'd lost composure, that discipline to resist. Puton felt captured by the boy's physical response, the tight grasp of an engorged member. The lad's anal muscle clamped tight on this ramming tool. Riding upon his toes he began to ride the boy with the pounding of flesh against flesh. No longer was he worried about anyone glimpsing at this sensual act, but the demonstration of his power was paramount. His last few pumps were from his own total surrender to being enraptured by the beauty of the moment. The circling of the American boy's waist by his hands was more for balance. Repetitive jolts from the orgasm had barely left enough strength to stand.

Chip had pressed his face against the glass, both eyes on a group of men who had no idea of what was transpiring at the other side of this Finnish door. He had had longer penises inside of him, even thicker shafts like Looper's or the senator's, though the senator's was shorter than most. It was the quickness, the initial surprise of entry that took the breath out of his lungs. There was no gradual buildup or ease to penetration. The immediate expansion and complete ownership had Chip melt to its presence and sensation. He had quickly spread his legs to allow a workout between ass and male organ. It wasn't to be until the man realized he'd come instantly and wanted the last thrusts to be remembered. His hair pulled back, face pressed into the glass, Chip heard the grunts of the last few slams of erotic splendor. A gradual dismissal was part of a loss for words, a weakening of body that had just been spent on the grandest of all orgasms.

This American boy had won this contest of will. There were no romantic insinuations or pats on the ass. Vadimir retreated to the corner of the sauna, like an embarrassed boy caught up in an act which he never knew it possible for him to perform. Homosexuals were at the root of everything that wasn't masculine, a presence that defied nature. At least that was his opinion before. That belief was now destroyed.

Chip just stood there frozen after being released from his bondage. He'd grown fully erect again, dripping from the tip of his cock. There was the fulfillment and Chip had enjoyed every second. He desired more. Looper would have stayed inside him for minutes, holding him tight with light kisses and words of love. This was less romantic and far more brutal in its sexual tastes. A wetness could already be felt dripping down his hamstring. The man must have left a gallon of sperm in his canal.

Ever so slowly Chip turned and faced this man that he had convinced to be one, even for those few short minutes. He saw humbleness, but then a smile of satisfaction.

"You will visit me in Russian, yes?" Vadimir asked.

Chip searched his mind. Had his dad mentioned any trips to Russia? Not that it would make any difference. How easy would it be to get a few minutes with the President of Russia? Looper would likely be with him and never allow Chip from his sight. This incident, if it was an incident, was an anomaly, lucky and a blessing in disguise. It wasn't like the guy was this great lover anyway.

"Certainly, when my father visits your country next time," Chip said to be courteous.

He had always found ways to peel back resistance from the men he had wanted. They all had their weak points, but few ever resisted his charm and adolescent coyness to the point where they had to have him. President Puton stood up with a full recovery. His penis was limp, still flush with blood, but pointed downward. He slapped the boy a soft blow, wrapped his towel around his waist and opened the sauna door to allow a breeze of refreshing cool air to emerge. He said something in Russian, just as Chip leaned around the door.

"I'll be out in a minute, guys," Chip said and proceeded to jump up and down to dismiss his excitement.

Hot, thirsty, and motivated to leave this heat he swung out of there with his towel barely held above his hips. Off to the shower his towel loosened to reveal an ass for all to see. A coating of whiteness was quite obvious from the base of his butt. For most of the agents who caught a good look none of them offered their own insights of speculation on what might have gone on in that sauna.

























Chapter Twenty-Nine


Returning to school for Chip Carver had far more significance than just a return after a Thanksgiving vacation. He felt just as normal a kid as before, caught between performing for his peers and just being himself. One thing had changed, he was awed by other students as someone special and heroic.

Once the press knew of the truth the news was front and center for three days. Chip Carver's name had been brought up so many times there were people demanding a ticker tape parade for the teenager.

Looper had met the Carver children that morning with a smile on his face. As if the previous week's leave was a foolish mistake, he was again part of the family. Looper never felt happier than when he was around the Carver children. He handed each one their weekly schedule, glad to see that Philly had a home game against Brentwood Academy on Tuesday.

Time Magazine came out with a front cover of the three world leaders and a teenager between President Puton and Prime Minister Fletcher. The focus was on a new generation of heroes, teenagers who were proud of their parents and reacted from pride, not fear. The article quoted a recent CNN reporter who had spoken to the First Boy directly. Would we have the first gay presidential child to come out of the closet while his father was in office? Sheltered from questions at this press hearing, this editor found it unlikely that this conservative president whose party line had a nucleus of the religious right would allow his son to be an outspoken advocate for gay rights.

Though America's gay youth needed an icon of this notoriety, politics more than often prevailed over social issues of importance. Inside the six-page article were several pictures, one being of President Puton pretending to throw the young teenager in a judo throw. Given the nature of the Russian president's condemnation of gay marriage and adoption by gays, the editor found it ironic that the president amused himself with the presence of a gay teenager. Certainly when Puton discovers the significance of his actions he would wish to rescind his frivolity the article went on to say.

A Monday lunch-period-surprise greeted Chip when Eric Sturges offered a high five to his once nemesis.

"Way to freak out, dude," Eric said.

Chip wasn't sure whether Eric was complimenting him about the fight, his role in Indiana, or at the White House. Either way Chip reached up and smacked the open hand to show there were no hard feelings. The sophomore class was pretty sure their bully had been tamed.

If no one was going to mention the Time article when Chip arrived home from school, the chief usher had adjusted his respect for the brash teenager by showing Chip his copy of the magazine. Chip grinned, then opened the pages to read what was said. He didn't mind the CNN reporter's remarks. How he could influence other gay teens was important to Chip and an idea he hadn't quite thought of. But then the accusations against his friend, President Puton, surprised him. Certainly it was the legislators within the Russian government, if they had legislators, Chip thought, who were homophobic. This worried the young man to where his excitement had turned to pensive resentment.

Chip ran up the stairs to his room and sat down in front of his computer. He addressed the e-mail to President Puton, the Russian Republic. The teen wasn't sure if the president would ever receive this, let alone read it, but he wanted to know the truth.

Dear Sir, I felt very honored to have you in our White House last Friday. You were an inspiration to me and your instruction was highly valued. When I read in Time Magazine that Russia won't allow gay marriages or adoptions, I became very confused. Like my father, he has to deal with many opinions that differ from his own. I suppose this is your problem, as well. I think those who oppose people different from themselves would change their minds if they knew someone or had someone in their family who was gay. I have grown in confidence and trust because I have opened up and spoken to others about my feelings and thoughts. I just had to share this with someone. You told me that my future will hold great things for me, that I had a beautiful soul, and I'd make someone very happy someday. It's taken men like yourself to help me know who I really am. You have inspired me beyond words. In my history class we studied your Peter the Great. A wonderful leader, Peter had many close relationships with men and boys. He would have been cool to know. Certainly your country would not forget his many accomplishments because his attraction was for his own sex. I would like you to influence the men and women under you to adopt laws to protect and make your gay people happy as well. Thank you and I'm sorry if I took up some of your time. I just thought this was very important. Your friend, Chip Carver, First Boy.

Chip punched his send key and the e-mail departed with electronic speed across the globe. He didn't really expect a reply.


Chapter Thirty


Though Lt. Stringer was not part of the search and investigation into the attempted bombing of the White House, he had been privy once to the tracking of one Hsu Chung. Thanks to a GPS unit attached secretly to the man's jacket, they had a road map of his travels. For over a week the exact location of that jacket had remained at Chung's residence.

Chung had disappeared several days ago and was likely in Mexico on his way back to China. A typical Tuesday morning for a member of the Sex Task Force was to follow leads. He and his partner were on their way to a high school to arrest a female teacher who had been alleged to have sexual liaisons with several of her students--two boys and one girl.

All of these clandestine affairs may well have gone unnoticed but for the birth of a baby over the past summer. A junior boy had declared to more than one of his peers that he was the father. In reality the father was his best friend who he bragged to. His friend had far more scruples to keep his sexual encounters private. The female subject would only be discovered after a search warrant and the finding of a video well deserving of an independent film project involving lesbians. It was the odd contrast, but, there again, the teacher taught sex education and her research would have definitely proven experience in all areas.

As they approached the school, his partner, Lt. Tom Ricid, was his usual bubbly self. He had a fascination for interrogating suspects, especially adults who were accused in their associations with minors. Zach referred to his partner's addiction as more of a sadistic obsession, a sick obsession. He could swear that his partner had erections on more than one occasion while questioning the suspects.

Playing good cop and bad cop, a method preferred by Ricid, Tom enjoyed taking the adult's point of view. He established a confiding bond and readily conveyed that most children enjoy sex, search it out, find it pleasurable, and trust the adult completely in learning as much as they can. Ricid sometimes even got the suspect to think that this detective was on his or her side.

The oddity about his partner, Zach totally came to believe that his partner may well have his own porn collection, if not experiences with underage children. Tom's vacations were often to Mexico, where he had hinted about the number of boys who wanted to show him around. They were there for the taking, he had said. At any red light or stop sign there were boys begging to wash the car's windows for American favors. The coy laughter was meant to incite a curious response, but Zach pretended to be naive to the metaphor.

As Zach searched through his lap top on the way he noticed that the Chung GPS unit had moved. He knew that the ambassador's son's residence was under surveillance, but such surveillance was often lax, detectives slept or only watched the front of a residence. Zach watched the satellite relay on the GPS unit moving along U.S. Route 50. His instincts told him that, if this was Chung, chances were that he was being followed or someone else might be wearing the jacket--highly unlikely. He thought of calling the FBI but he was a bystander in all this at best. The feds knew what they were doing and wouldn't likely let Chung slip through their net if he still was in the area.

His partner Tom went bouncing into the main reception office, flashed his badge and laid the names of three students in front of the school secretary. One by one they were brought to the counselor's office to be asked questions. While Zach sat back, as if this was Ricid's show, he listened to this now sixteen-year old, the same age as Chip Carver, get hammered with personal questions. When did he first meet his teacher? Where did they have sex for the first time? Who initiated it? Did she strip your clothes off, or did she do a striptease? Was she shaven? Did she take the missionary position or the top, or did she allow you to experiment? Were you erect? Did you know what to do? Did you come right away?

"What does that have to do with anything?" the boy asked.

Ricid got huffy. "We're just interested in the adult's approach. They often know you'll come quick so they demand more foreplay. Were you able to satisfy her?"

"I think so," the teen answered. "She didn't exactly say she enjoyed it. I did."

"So, you're like six or seven inches?" Tom got a nod, then a crunch of from the teen's shoulders.

"Oh, come on, all boys measure their dicks. What's yours?"

"Eight, I think," the boy said.

The detective gave him a thumbs up. "Did she blow you or did she make you give her pleasure down there."

"Both," he answered.

Zach glanced over and saw his partner rub the front of his pants under the table. Even though there was a microphone placed on the table Zach knew it wasn't turned on. The questions continued at a fast pace. How many times? Did she ever stick anything up your ass? How did that feel? Do you think you're gay? Does she swallow? The questions ceased in their blatant descriptions only when Tom felt a wet spot on his fly.

When the teen finally eschewed his face, realizing that this detective was getting off on his answers, he asked to return to class. The next teen refused to say anything or answer the simplest of questions. He didn't have to and he knew he couldn't be arrested. He was a minor and sex was free until the age of eighteen.

"Why eighteen?" Zach spoke up. "I'll get in trouble if I have sex with someone under eighteen, that's all."

"But you don't mind getting someone else in trouble right now as a minor," Zach said straightforward and it wasn't a question.

"Fuck you! Mrs. Phillips did nothing."

"How do you know we were talking about Mrs. Phillips?" Zach asked.

"Kids lie about her to get her into trouble."

"She had a baby with one of you boys," Zach tossed out to get a reaction.

"I donated sperm," the boy lied. "That's not having sex. You figure it out."

Ricid loved that one. "Donated as to shoot it in her yourself?"

The teenager gave Ricid an ugly stare. "My friend said you were a pervert. I spoke to him when he left."

Ricid reached across and grabbed the teen by the shirt. Zach quickly intervened and dismissed the boy before any more damage could occur.

When the female student strode in she was very attractive. She denied everything and was shocked that someone would accuse her of being a lesbian. A video would give that one up. When the two men left the office they had one solid case, two to be broken. They went to the suspect's classroom with the vice-principal alongside them and asked her to come out in the hallway where they read the teacher her rights, put handcuffs on her and led her to their car.

At the station Zach sat through another hour of interrogation by his partner. Not as exciting as talking to kids, the whole scenario bored Zach to death. Yes, she probably shouldn't have had sex with her own students, but there was no force, no pressure, and these teenagers would continue on in their whimsical little worlds while this teacher had her life ruined.

Zach finally excused himself and left for his office. Lt. Stringer had access to multiple police scanners, video accesses, and investigative procedures. He found Chung's license plate number of his Porsche and moved to the videos of the routes Chung had taken that morning. Currently the GPS showed that the unit was stationary in southern Maryland. Using the exact times Zach remembered when he had observed satellite recordings, he scanned the video replay of hundreds of vehicles traveling up Route 50. No Porsches of similar description Zach further pinpointed down to one to two minutes of his first observation. Two vans traveling together had a particular interest. He froze the picture, zoomed in and asked for facial recognition. The driver was wearing a dark jacket, similar to the leather Chung had worn in the restaurant. The highly sophisticated facial imagery had difficulty until the various zooms commenced and identified the driver as Hsu Chung, Most Wanted fugitive on the FBI's list. It wasn't just the driver Zach was interested in, it was the number of people in both vans. Zach estimated possibly at least seven to ten men.

With the use of street maps Zach touched his finger to the exact location of Brentwood Academy. The lieutenant's mind began spinning with logical assumptions. None of the Carver children went to Brentwood, this was a relief. What other possibilities?

Zach checked his watch, it was one-ten and he hadn't even had lunch. Though he and Looper were dating frequently and were finally relishing each other's bodies, calling him while he was working seemed inappropriate. The detective envisioned that the FBI was now arresting this Chinese fugitive for something far more serious than drug charges, a crime that would simply send the spoilt son back to China on a free plane ride. But what if they weren't?

Zach decided to leave the paperwork to his partner for a change. He got in his Volkswagen and started down the onramp of the thruway heading north. A quick stop at a drive thru got him a burger, fries, and coke, not the most ideal meal. This whole drive seemed idiotic but necessary to relieve his own conscience. Out of curiosity Zach tried to remember what schools the Carver children actually went to. He remembered seeing Chip's sweat bottoms the time they drooped off his hips on purpose. The boy had a wicked way of sexually suggesting his availability. How any gay man could resist this graceful creature was something Chip Carver was well aware of.

Though Zach guessed that his boyfriend had sampled this off-limits delight, he had yet to ask, maybe afraid of the answer. Zach knew there would be no judgment. Boys in adolescence weren't stupid nor innocent. They were quite able to decide who they wanted to suck their cocks or fuck their booty. Most often it only took one experience to be smitten into a pleasure they had only experienced with their hand. His smile and shake of the head made the detective's amazement of the boy's intestinal fortitude absolutely inviting. He had resisted as a visitor that first time. With subsequent visits Zach was not unfamiliar with this teenager's lovability. Since then a friendship unlike he'd known before had a chemical reaction that was scary to ponder. A dream that Looper and he were in bed with the boy had woken him up with a wet dream a few days earlier. How many years had it been since those times were constant? He began to laugh, not so much about the wet dream, but when Looper mentioned Chip's remark that his church shouldn't be so down on gay adoption; after all, Jesus had two dads. The boy could crack them up and turn a sour day into a smiling one with one joke.

Zach shook off these thoughts, a heavy feeling of blood had gravitated to his groin. Shit! He was getting just like his partner back at the station. Like an instant replay weeks later he refocused and envisioned the wording on those sweat pants: Elmdale Academy. Finding it on his computer the GPS showed a distance of twelve miles from Brentwood, far enough away not to be a concerned.

It was near 2:30 when Zach was a few miles from Annapolis. Dinner by the sea sounded like a good idea, even though it would be by himself. Vacations were few and far between and this drive had refreshed his mind and spirit that he should get out of town once in a while.

Taking an off-ramp he stopped at a red light, then looked down at his computer screen. Chung's GPS unit had moved northwest toward Elmwood. Was it coincidence or on purpose? Zach had to consider the possibilities. His Volkswagen was hardly a finely tuned machine but he gunned it nonetheless toward Elmwood Academy three miles away. He knew he was breaking the law while driving, he texted Looper that he was on his way to see him. Why? Even Zach wasn't sure.

Chip was in his favorite period, 7th period physical education. Laughing hysterically he had just tumbled off his scooter, a 12-square inch piece of wood with four wheels on the bottom. In his hand was a plastic yellow scoop, all designed to fling a blue whiffle ball into a small soccer goal. His team was skins and so far they were winning 14 to 12.

It was rare that Eric Sturges, with a face mask to protect his nose, was on the same team, but they worked in harmony like teammates should. Looper stood on the sidelines, doing his best to root for neither team. His cell phone chirped and he glanced at who had sent him a text. A quick read certainly had his curiosity up. Just what he didn't want to hear was another problem about the Carver kids.

Looper was glad when Chip asked him if he could stay and watch his brother play after school against Brentwood. Looper was only too happy to comply.

It was near period's end when the Brentwood team bus pulled into the parking lot. Fifteen boys and six cheerleaders, they all sat in their seats without the slightest joy of being there. Actually they were too scared to move. The driver pulled up close to the gymnasium as he'd done several times previous.

Two Secret Service agents walked across the parking lot. They each had under their jackets SigSauer 9mm automatics. What no one saw were two agents across the street in a leased home by the Secret Service, two more camped out in their Suburban, one on the roof with binoculars, and four agents within the school walls. The routine inspection of a visiting school was to check the number of students, faculty, and their names, which were compared to the previous list of approved adults and students to be around a president's child. Any felony would exclude an adult from participating in any school activity, at least when a president's kid was involved.

Perry Lowe was a six-year veteran with the Service, his last three with the school detail. He should have been alert to the bus driver's demeanor upon the opening of the swinging doors. Way too routine and mundane, this was just another group of rich and spoiled kids competing against the same. Perry walked up the steps while his partner stayed to the side of the bus. Seeing a coach with a Elmwood jacket, Perry expected to see a list of students and faculty to coincide with his own. Instead he saw a gun rise with a silencer. He never had a chance.

Lance Palmer, another five year veteran of the force and two years on school detail, was well aware of probably no less than two sets of binoculars on the bus at this particular moment. He was relaxed and waited for Perry to exit and give the okay for the boys and girls and their coaches to enter the gym to dress out for a football game to the rear of the school. If all the windows hadn't been shut he might have heard one of the girl's muffled scream. What he did hear was a male voice say, "Shut up!"

Lance assumed it was a coach's discipline. When a man exited with a blue jacket, head set, and a build similar to Perry's, well, he just assumed. His quick glance was his last.

A quarter mile from the school, Lt. Stringer spotted the two vans Parkerd along a curb. He had already slowed down due to the school zone, but he didn't look at the van as he drove alongside; that is until he was past and was able to scan his rearview mirror. Only the driver could be seen in one van, while the other van had three men in front. If they were there to observe, Zach had plans to interfere.

Zach rolled into the school parking lot, one way in, one way out. Numerous vehicles were already lined up in front of the school, like well-trained mothers in a cashier's line at a grocery store. Several black Suburban were Parkerd in designated spots, each, Zach knew, would be armored and equipped with heavy weapons. Terrorists didn't come to a party of their choice with .22 caliber target rifles.

All these Suburban had darkened plastic on the windows, Lexan windows, special tires and Kevlar panels. It's not paranoia when it's true. Zach knew his car wasn't on a list of standard vehicles that the Secret Service was used to seeing. He had to make himself known and very quick. A quick perusal of the parking lot and Zach saw a yellow school bus with Brentwood markings on its side by a building. He assumed the building was the gymnasium. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary.

In limited time Hsu Chung had done his homework. He had obtained a brochure of Elmwood Academy over the Internet. Chung's men had visited the school's headmaster over the weekend. This school administrator was currently tied up in his home and had called in sick leave that morning. No one was the least suspicious. Chung had managed to obtain all the information he desired in a few minutes of forced interrogation: a simple layout of the school's architecture, Chip Carver's class schedule, and the location of Secret Service agents flowed from the headmaster's lips when his testicles were seconds away from being sliced off. Few men could have held their secrets under such duress.

As Chung's plan began to unfold he gave a signal to the first van to proceed. This diversion served a purpose to eliminate two major obstacles: the agents across the street from the school and the lookout on the roof. Chung and three other hired guns began moving along the sidewalk, firearms beneath their parkas. The small perimeter fence might have kept out small children but any athletic adult could spring over them with routine dexterity.

Razio Jefferson pulled out into traffic. He was the driver of the first van, fifty yards behind a Volkswagen that had just passed by. Compared to the many Mercedes Benz, Austin Martins, multiple SUVs and Cadillacs, driven by women overly dressed to pick up their children, the Volkswagen was almost laughable. Razio Parkerd the van in the middle of the street with the school on his left, homes on his right.

The van's sliding door opened and a M-50 machine gun on a large tripod pointed its barrel at a one-story residence. Its fusillade of bullets instantly shattered glass and framing.

On the left side of the van another man took sight of his target, a lookout and sharpshooter on the school's roof. It wasn't that he was unfamiliar with a scope, nor a bad shot. No one had thought up the M-50's vibration in preventing a perfectly still shot. On the school's roof, Kenneth Miller's mind took a second to realize the reality of what happened below near the bus. One of his peers had collapsed, no doubt from foul play. Ken brought up his weapon, aimed his sights on a man dressed in agent's clothes and discovered it didn't fit the description of any agent he knew. A bullet caught its mark below the ear.

Instantly he reached for his transmission device. Miller had no time to reflect upon his shot or report. He felt the shreds of concrete spit up into his face. Someone was now firing at him. He dove into the graveled surface of the flat roof, swung his rifle toward the street and saw the barrel of his rival. Scope against scope, the ultimate duel in marksmanship, with one exception. Agent Miller knew you never put a sharpshooter with an automatic weapon. He had the advantage of stillness. With three rapid fires the splattering of blood on an adjacent window proved the hit.

When Zach exited his car the sound of warfare had become evident. His eyes looked directly into the muzzles of two guns. Already there were screams from throughout the parking lot. The echo of a large machine gun filled the air. Cars honked repeatedly. Though no one had actually picked up their child yet, many of these parents just wanted to flee the scene.

"Hands high!" an agent yelled and thankfully Zach already had his badge in one of them.

He crouched down to the level of both agents in front of him.

"What are you doing here?" a Secret Service agent asked as all three of them hid behind the front of the Volkswagen.

"Following a suspect, Hsu Chung. Heard of him?" the lieutenant asked.

"Who hasn't. Look, we might have infiltration at the gymnasium. You cover our rear and make sure these folks stay in their cars."

Zach nodded, not exactly sure where the sounds of automatic fire was coming from.

Looper didn't mind assisting Coach Townsend in the locker room. It was always tempting to make oneself useful when you're standing around a classroom or, in this case, the locker room. An agent could feel under foot with their constant presence. Though he wouldn't admit it to anyone he thoroughly enjoyed passing out towels to the boys coming out of the shower. Tenth graders were just becoming comfortable with their bodies, hormones had given most of them two years of experience with adult size genitals and masturbation.

When his young charge was in eighth and ninth grades the boys were very protective of their nakedness. Most had gone through puberty and were somewhat embarrassed of this new sexual awareness. Others were a little behind and didn't want to disclose their still boyish features. Now as sophomores pubic patches were far more significant than their junior high years when comparisons in the locker room were sometimes embarrassing for those late developers.

When Looper's headset came to life he certainly didn't expect to hear what he heard, despite the high pitch of boys' voices ringing in and out of the showers.

"Firestorm!" Looper heard and asked for the person to repeat, not sure he'd actually heard correctly. Again it was repeated, "Firestorm!"

It was the easiest of code words and, if no one else had accomplished the act, Looper pushed a button on his set, activating a radio link to Washington.

"Firestorm! Firestorm! Firestorm!"

The area was full of loud, naked boys, usually excited with the end of another school day and Christmas vacation but a few weeks away. For some logical reason kids were just happier. One teen was just reaching for his towel and ready to thank this agent for teaching their buddy how to fight. His towel was dropped to the floor by an agent with a panic look on his face. Looper knew most of the boys' names by heart.

"Toby, get the boys out of the shower and dressed. We have an emergency. Go on! Get your butt in gear!"

Chung, with three other operatives, made it to the gym entrance without resistance. A C4 charge was put against the lock that exploded seconds later to send these large metal doors bursting open. The gym floor was vacant of boys, but that only meant that the class must be in the locker area. Chung pointed to two men to maintain the entrance while he ordered another to his side as they ran toward an open S shape entrance with a sign above it: BOYS LOCKER ROOM.

Looper was moving to the locker room entrance when he heard in his earpiece, "Gymnasium has been compromised. Move! Move!"

Looper knew there were several agents now headed toward him to assist.

"Everybody down!" Looper shouted throughout the locker room.

Few boys actually obeyed the command, thinking it some kind of a joke, and who would want to dive on some cold tile floor?

Agent McElroy's first assignment was to protect Chip Carver. He had to make an instant decision. Protecting the entrance to this locker room would require him to stand where he was. Problem was, he had no idea where Chip was at that very minute. Withdrawing his weapon made all but a few boys decide to lay flat on the floor while Looper ran back into an open shower room. Several boys were way too busy under their hot sprays than to hear Toby's yell or an adult barking orders. Chip was at the far corner, now in friendly conversation with Eric. The two of them had teamed up to give their team a five-point victory during gym class.

"Chip! Firestorm!" Looper yelled over the chatter of so many naked adolescents.

Chip's grin turned to one of disbelief. Before the boy could react to Looper's warning a loud pop of a gun was heard throughout the locker area. Boys screamed and if they weren't already on the floor, they were now.

Looper crouched down behind the open archway leading to the showers. It was both steamy and loud with at least ten showers still spraying hot water at full blast. The showers created for the moment a nice smoke screen. At least eight boys began to congregate behind this agent with a gun. Looper wasn't being insensitive or cruel but he only wanted to make sure that one particular boy was close to his side. He put his arm around Chip as they both crouched down together.

On the other side of the academy, down the block at the local high school, and at Melissa's Oakwood Elementary, the call of "Firestorm" over the radio links had hit the other three presidential security details for Cheerleader, Brainiac, and All-Star. Agents standing outside the classrooms of the Carver kids swarmed in, weapons drawn, and then dragged their designated assignees out to the corridor to the curiosity and wide-eyes of their classmates and teachers. Explanations could come later.

Students and parents of these private schools where often from political parents or celebrity kids. Most well knew that there were men who would take advantage of a situation to gain financially or even sexually if they could get their hands on any one of these kids. It was mostly because of the reputation of their parents, themselves, or the family's wealth. Reality had shown its ugly tooth this day.

The Carver children kept their mouths shut and ran with each agent down the hallway into a pre-set plan for such an event. There were no questions, no time to gather school books or homework, only a true test if they could run as quickly as the agents pushing them. If anyone wanted to yell foul it was Philly. This would no doubt negate his football game, but he was old enough to keep his mouth shut.

Several Chevy Suburban had pulled up against exits, each child practically thrown in the backseat, head down and surrounded by protection. Each driver had a designation, an open space in a field, or in Brainiac's case, a beach by the ocean. Marine helicopters were already notified to spool up to fly to these areas and extract the Carver Children.

While waiting, agents stood behind their Kevlar-armored vehicle, heavy weapons out, looking for targets or anyone who had followed them. A far more vast calling for help had reached well beyond Secret Service Headquarters. A direct drop line to Barracks J of the Maryland State Police on Rowe Boulevard in Annapolis had been activated. Racing to the scene was its own Secret Service SWAT team and the FBI Hostage Rescue Team with its own choppers. Ambulances could be heard in the distance coming up Ritchie Highway. Police cars were speeding in, now a few blocks from the school.

Across the street from the school the persistent and constant whine of a .50mm machine gun had ceased to a solemn quietness. The powerful weapon had all but demolished a residential house. The shooter was now slumped over the large gun, thanks to a shot in the back of the head from the agent a hundred yards away on the roof. Inside the residence the two agents had stayed flat on their bellies. Glass, wood, metal, all splattered over and around them as the front of the home began to disintegrate.

When the fusillade ceased, both agents bolted upright, their M-16s in their hands as they raced toward the front door. Tentative, but aggressively, they rushed out and saw the open bay in the van, their harasser slumped over. The van began to move forward and do a U-turn in the middle of the street. Both agents opened fire on the wheels, disabling the vehicle from barely making its turn.

Though the first van was simply a diversion to control this perimeter observation, Chung well knew these three men were merely sacrificial lambs. The driver, still intent on following orders to get his fifty thousand dollars, saw his cohort's demise. His other peer had been killed in the first minute. Figuring that the men in the house were dead, he managed to reverse the direction of the van, then raced back to take over the firing of this massive gun. Totally oblivious to where the firing was coming from that had now destroyed any of the van's mobility, he spun the large gun around and began firing at the roof top.

Being a sharpshooter had its moments of discovery. The agent had no defense against the hundreds of bullets aimed in his direction. Though he lay flat on the roof he was helpless to counter this type of attack. He didn't have long to wait for one of the deadly bullets to go through his eye and exit the brain.

Moving toward the van there was no resistance. The agents saw the lone attacker with his constant barrage upward toward the top of the school. They put a burst of bullets through the side windows and killed the terrorist instantly.

While Zach stayed huddled behind a BMW that had a few errant bullet holes in its side already, he watched two agents run toward a school bus. An AK-47 was sticking out a bus window; young boys' and girls' heads could be seen through the windows. A wave of screams, eighth graders in terror, were heard even where Zach was crouched.

Agent Miller had little choice; he couldn't fire into a bus load of children. This terrorist was as cowardly as they come, firing with children as his protection. Miller watched his fellow agent take two shots in the chest, then one in the forehead. He had no support coming to his own rescue, but he also knew that that explosion a minute earlier had severed the perimeter of the school's exterior. Once anyone infiltrated the walls, any quick halt to this attack had just become very difficult.

There wasn't much Miller could do about the school bus, so he circled around several vehicles with mothers inside expressing the utmost panic and fear. For these adults their only safety were to take refuge in their own vehicles.

In his race to the gym Agent Miller attracted massive gunfire in his direction; the Parkerd cars took most of these errant bullets. Through the exploded doors, the agent became an instant target for the terrorists' plan of first line defense. Miller fired a salvo of bullets at a man dressed in black, standing by a long set of bleachers. His target returned fire, having already been hit by the agent's initial firing. With this mutual onslaught, both men had killed each other, they just didn't know it yet. Shot in both legs, the neck, and forearm, Agent Miller lay stunned, bleeding profusely in his Adam's apple. His eyes opened for a brief moment and saw a sight that made him smile for the last time in his life.

"I think I got him," the agent told Zach who had come up behind him for support.

The agent then rested his eyes for eternity.

Zach barely had time to look up to see two dark figures moving rapidly around the bleachers, their AK-47s up and ready. He shot twice at the forward terrorist, then rolled to the other side of the hall, stopping prone with his gun up. His bullets had hit home, leaving one lone gunman slumped against a wall.

Eyes blurry, disoriented from his rapid movement, Zach squeezed off six shots as fast as he could to where a moving object breezed behind a ball rack. A bullet zinged by his ear, then one caught his shoulder to send pain shooting down his body. His arm disabled, Zach expected the man to finish him off within seconds.

Looper's sidekick, Stan Ewings, had been in his usual place during gym classes. He roamed the hallway outside, acting more a hall monitor in keeping students from skipping out earlier than a Secret Service agent. When he heard "FIRESTORM!" over his earpiece he closed off the hallways to make sure every student was in some classroom. The school froze literally in place. He assumed correctly that Looper had First Boy in the locker area under protection.

Hearing the first explosion in the gym had nearly knocked him off his feet. Instantly he used his master key to unlock the gymnasium as he stood motionless to gain a perspective of any human life. There was smoke from the entrance. Three to four dark figures, all with automatic weapons appeared to be moving into the gym from out of this haze. Stan didn't wish to take on all four men at once. He slid sideways into the girls' locker room and ran into several girls and one female gym teacher who were coming outward to see what the commotion was about.

"Go back! Go back!" Stan warned and pushed everyone back inside the area.

Girls had just finished with their field hockey outside. As with their male counterparts they were showering and dressing. Stan made his way into the locker area where a few girls screamed, as if this was a requirement to seeing a male in a female area. Stan held up his gun and badge which gave some assurance. To a few girls it just gave them an excuse to flaunt their nakedness to a handsome man.

"Arrest me, officer, I'll be your slave," a young female said to humor her friends.

Her peers laughed which actually helped reduce the panic for the moment. Stan didn't find the blatant actions of this coquettish beauty amusing, though he had to admit to himself that when he was fifteen, seeing a naked girl would have been a miracle. This was certainly no time to humor a group of naked teenagers.

Agent Ewings opened his arms. "Get in the shower room. We have terrorists right outside your locker room."

Those words created a rush to panic that didn't always comply to the agent's wishes. Some girls could only think of getting away from that school. Stan literally swept into his arm one young lady who had already lost control and was running toward the entrance without a stitch of clothes on. He literally slapped her.

"You'll be killed, girl! Please, people, go to the showers!"

He saw the women's PE teacher come up next to him. The stern faced woman was less gentle in pushing one of her students back into the locker area.

"Is there a way to the boys' locker room?" Stan asked.

She pointed to the side of her office where a door connected the two locker rooms. Stan hustled, looked through a small window in the door to see several naked boys and the entrance to the shower. His mind was calculating many things, including the fact that any female could do what he was doing and get an education of the male body. He wondered if the boys' PE teacher did the same.

Once again he reached for his master key. He attempted a very quiet entry. The loud click of the metal clasp was not what he wanted. Stan hesitated, then opened the door. A person could hear a pin drop. Before him was an adult, sitting in a chair, head forward as if asleep. A quick glimpse and Stan saw two bullet holes in the man's chest. This was a worst case scenario. The terrorists had breached this area. He could still see naked boys sitting on the cold tile floor. A man holding a gun in one hand was moving boy to boy, grabbing their hair and looking at each of their faces.

Stan moved out of this small coach's office and into the locker area until he was behind this intruder. There were others around, but at least this one was isolated.

"Drop it!"

Chung turned, hardly surprised at this interruption which gave the agent an odd feeling in his stomach. Around the other side of this row of lockers a naked boy stepped out. Stan turned, gun ready, but what he saw was way too much to deal with. A barrel was sticking out from underneath the boy's armpit. To kill this terrorist meant killing the boy, an act he was unwilling to do. He felt the rapid burst of gunfire hit him in the groin and hip area. He spun, allowing more bullets to rip into his side. Injured, hurting like hell, he was still alive. Then he glimpsed a black man, as dark as coal, straddle his body.

"Hey, wood, whatsa doin' in ma crib? Ain't no nigger don't like a po..lice man."

Agent Stan Ewings took a bullet between the eyes, a professional who had done his job the best he could to protect a president's child.

Outside the gymnasium a father of five, who could hardly afford to send any one of his children to a private school, was pissed at having had his bus commandeered. He was never one to allow anyone on his bus to scream, throw paper wads, or bully another kid. Most of all, at least on this day, he was certainly pissed at having a terrorist onboard using his kids as shields. His simple words of "Fuck it," might have been heard by a few kids huddled together in the front seats.

Arthur Winthrop stood up and marched straight back fifteen rows, somewhat expecting to be shot for doing so, but, damn, if he was going to allow this on his watch. Along the way he pointed at four of the bigger eighth graders on the bus, boys who had the biggest mouths and were likely linemen on the football team. Arthur threw himself on the black thug looking out the window before he knew what or who had grabbed him. Circling both arms sent this Uzi machine gun up into air, where it sent a dozen bullets through the roof.

Three of the four boys had believed in their bus driver enough to get involved. They scratched, clawed, bit, and kicked this man until the gun had flipped to the floor of the bus and their driver had managed a good hold around the man's neck. Not wanting to ease this opportunity, one eighth grade boy sat on the man's legs and began plummeting him with punches left and right into the groin, while another boy practiced punts into the guy's balls. Bloodied and unconscious, this terrorist had met his match.

Arthur obtained the gun, ordered everyone to the front of the bus except those who had helped him.

"If he moves, I'm going to shoot him. Anyone have a problem with that?" Arthur asked and had unanimous support.

Chung was pleased with the disposal of one agent who had invaded his domain.

"Okay, Carver! I know you're in here!" Chung yelled.

He gripped a naked, blond-haired boy and stretched his neck upward until the young teenager begged for his life.

"This kid is going to get a bullet in the brain if you don't show yourself in five seconds. One, two......"

Chip didn't wait for Looper's move. He escaped his protector's hand, stood up and moved around the shower entrance. With his arms upward Chip made himself known before Looper could respond.

"Don't shoot him, I'm here."

Agent McElroy had few alternatives. The boy he was hired to protect was an open target and any move to kill these terrorists would likely put the teen in jeopardy. Looper had few options. To stay hidden would give him an advantage of surprise. Surrounding him stood many naked boys, all of whom were scared to death. He peeked around the corner in hopes that no one was looking this way. What he hoped for wasn't there. A black man stood to his left, and Chung was straight ahead. To get one wouldn't give him enough time.

"Nice try, shit-for-brains! Toss the gun in back of you! I know the boy doesn't shit without an agent nearby." Chung again ordered and got his wish.

Out came Looper, hands high. He had whispered to the other boys to stay put. Dropping his weapon he was pushed inside the circle of other boys. All of them were quickly put in a huddled mass, while Chip and Looper had their hands tied behind their back with shoelaces taken from a pair of gym shoes.

Chung had his laughs. "What the fuck! Here I had the president's kid in my sights all those times. You fooled me, kid, but the ball's in my court now."

There were now pensive moments when Chung realized he'd actually been successful in his plan. He scanned around the locker room in contemplation for his next move.

"For those who aren't naked, get naked! If one of you wants to get cute and run, you'll get a bullet in the back."

Chung watched and had his swarm of naked bodies, including a Secret Service agent, at his mercy. Chung grabbed Chip by his brown hair, yanked his face back so the boy could see the Chinaman's face above him.

"So, you and me, boy, we have a score to settle. You played me for a sucker and no one plays me and gets away with it. I should have killed you in the restroom. Guess we're destined to go on a long trip together. I've read where you like it up the ass. I can see why; that's one pretty set of cheeks."

Chung smacked Chip's ass and kept him by his side. The other boys he put in a straight line with Looper trailing this group of thirty-one nude adolescents. One boy swung his head around and said his parents would pay a lot of money for his freedom. Chung laughed, walked up and smacked the kid across the face.

"Fuckin' rich kid, thinks mommy will save his ass. Kid, you're the first one I'm going to kill."

The boy started to cry and urine dripped down on the inside of his thigh. It was pathetic enough that Chung pushed the boy away.

"Tyrone, march these proud cocksuckers out into the gym. We've got to take matters into our own hands."

Tyrone Jefferson, a man who had survived growing up in downtown Washington D.C., had nary a paycheck in his life until he met Chung at a nightclub. His role as this Chinaman's bodyguard was something he was trained for.

"Okay, peckerwoods, grab yur bud's dick in front of you like yur jackin' t' motherfucker off. Any seperatin' and yur get t' butt of ma gun. Move it, mutterfuckers!"

Jefferson made each boy step over the body of Agent Ewings, a reminder of what could happen to them. By the time they reached the gym floor three of the boys had nearly fainted from fear. It was Chung who showed a human side and had a few boys make sure they held up their buddies.

"Now we know who the queers are," he said, which actually reduced the fear of the moment. "You've been wantin' to hold your friends' dicks and now you have your chance."

In the middle of the basketball court the boys were told to lay on their stomachs, hands behind their heads. Chung did a quick scan of his surroundings, verifying the deaths of three of his men and one agent. No survivors were evident.

Not at all angry or surprised at the results, Chung had the president's son and the agent lead the way as they walked from the locker room to the entrance of the gymnasium, a gun barrel pressed in to Chip's back.

Realizing that he'd killed both his attackers Zach had managed to reach the far end of the bleachers, out of sight and away from any entrances seconds before the parade of captives emerged. He had stopped the blood flow from his shoulder and swore at himself for not packing more bullets. Across the floor lay bodies and guns, but then this procession of naked boys and two very important people who met a great deal to him came out from the locker room. Zach froze out of sight without ammunition or a solution in mind.

When the two captives and Chung hit the open sunlight the parking lot appeared like a huge traffic jam, albeit with twirling red lights of ambulances and other emergency vehicles. Chung saw what he expected, hundreds of people, most in some type of uniform and more guns and cameras pointed in his direction than if he'd robbed a bank. He smiled with the attention he had received.

Two television stations were the first media personnel to arrive on the scene. These satellite stations had already broken in daily programming for a "Breaking News" update. From a street viewpoint their zoom lenses had a direct sight on one nude teenager and an adult, side by side in front of America's most wanted criminal. Given the importance of this crisis the feed was being seen by millions of Americans. Neither of the stations censored their reporting.

Hsu made sure to stay well hidden behind his captives, the gun now behind Chip's ear. He asked whomever was in charge to step forward. All of a sudden from his left he saw two naked boys jump down from a gym window. How could he have missed anyone left in that locker room?! He yanked his gun and shot at the second teenager who had just landed on the grass. The bullet caught the boy right in the right leg. Before he could get off a second shot Chip jerked his elbow up and managed to divert Chung off target. Chip took the butt of the revolver right on top of his head.

Chung's anger now created a new challenge, and it wasn't with the escaping boys in the locker room. Chip, practically knocked unconscious, fell to Chung's knees. Instantly Chung had lost control of his victim and a barrier between him and the many weapons pointed at him. He quickly cradled the teenager and dragged him back in.

"Fuck!" Chung yelled at this unforeseen and unnecessary event.

He slapped Chip's face, refusing to allow the boy to lose consciousness. A splash of water from a canteen around another terrorist's waist helped revive this important target for Chung. He managed to get Chip back on his feet and once again dragged the boy outside to the entrance.

"You have thirty minutes to land a helicopter directly where you are standing! This helicopter will take me and my young friend here to an airport where a plane will take us to Cuba. The president's boy here will be released when I sat foot on Cuban soil. To prove my point that I'm not fucking around."

Chung aimed the gun at Looper's head, prepared to kill an agent to pronounce his murderous intent.

"Don't even think about it, Chung!" Chip yelled up very groggy. "You kill my friend and you don't get any cooperation from me. I can drop down right now and a sharpshooter will take your head off your shoulders. I'll cooperate, but don't hurt Looper."

Chung considered this suggestion as a viable alternative. As much as he would have loved killing this cop, he'd prefer a cooperative teenager.

"Okay, kid. Don't suppose you want to grow a hard-on for your audience. You have quite a dick there. You've just earned a thousand girlfriends."

Chung backed up in contemplation that with this kid's compliance he might well be successful in this extraction of himself and his men. He took his two naked hostages back inside the gym. His chances had improve immensely. In a half-hour it would be dark and his plan of surrounding himself with a couple dozen naked boys, each riding on the shoulders of the other to block any attempted head shot, would make it easier to board the helicopter. No one wanted to see a kid shot.

Down the street two news commentators had done a professional job in presenting this demand to the authorities for the president's son to be released safety. In finality the newscaster had the most serious expression on his face as he conversed with his TV audience.

"It appears we have a standoff for the time-being. We will now return you back to your previous program for your enjoyment."

The problem with this was that his network had no intention of reverting back to normal programming. The camera stayed on as this newsman, unknowing that he was still on the air, broke into a laugh and turned to his cohort.

"Man, did you see the First Boy's dick?! That snake is longer than my best hard-on. No wonder his old man is fucking every starlit in Hollywood. Kennedy should have been so lucky. They should call the Carver kid, Hung Lo."

The reporter would soon find out that no amount of apologies could save his career.

Chung pushed this Secret Service agent ahead of him. The agent had been one lucky fellow to have the kid stick up for him. Given the right moment he'd kill the guy and dump his body out of the helicopter.

Chip saw his peers clumped together in a mass of pink, hands clasped to the back of their heads. He scanned the throes of this gymnasium that was usually meant for fun and exercise. To the far corner he spotted a hand waving at him. Chip couldn't believe his eyes that it was Lt. Stringer.

Like a forgotten toy a lone scooter sat at the base of the bleachers. Their physical education teacher had obviously missed this one when he gathered the equipment after class. Chip yanked his elbow from Chung's fingers to leap forward and jump on the scooter. Away he went out on the gym floor, riding the little scooter like a skateboard.

"Get the fuck back here, Carver! I'll shoot your squirrelly ass!" Chung yelled.

"Catch me if you can. You need me, remember?"

Chung motioned to his partner to shag the kid. Tyrone tossed his Uzi to Hsu, then started to run after the boy. Chip had a good head start, but the small four-wheeled dolly was too awkward; plus, Chip had his hands tied behind him, making balance very difficult. He did manage to reach the end of the bleachers on the far end, just as Jefferson corralled the teen's neck.

The six-three man never saw the butt end of a revolver nail him below the chin. There was a snap of the head backward, then another collision with a rail. The terrorist's body slammed against the hard concrete floor off the wooden gym surface. Zach checked the man's pulse--dead.

Chip hadn't looked at Agent Ewing's body when he exited the locker room. This time he eyed the dead abductor and felt sick to his stomach. There was just something surreal seeing someone whose life had left him. He dry heaved and felt Zach's hands envelope him into his chest, out of view from everyone. Trouble was, Zach still didn't have a gun but Chung didn't know that.

In this darkening gymnasium Chung heard the commotion and saw the shadows of a second man. He figured he'd probably lost Jefferson. It didn't faze his intent. That sadistic laugh echoed through the gym as Chung grabbed a handful of hair of the same boy who had pleaded with him previous.

"Come on, Carver, you can do better than that! Let's try this again, shall we? You and your friend down there have ten seconds to come out with your hands up or I start eliminating boys. Your call, Carver."

With his hands untied Chip didn't let the man get to three before he stepped out with Lt. Stringer, both had their arms up, but Chip kept one foot on the wooden scooter, the other foot began to sweep backwards to ride this scooter toward Chung.

By himself now Chung knew every man he had brought with him just probably dead or captured. Not that it mattered to Chung, he'd hired the others to do a job and well expected most of them wouldn't survive. This other man approaching him would serve a purpose. He had a group of scared boys and one agent he was prepared to sacrifice. With this other adult approaching it created another threat. As soon as the man walked close enough Chung decided to put a bullet through his brain. It would emphasize his seriousness and establish a sense of order.

Four feet from where Chung held the boy by his hair, Chip stopped the scooter and watched his friend's hair disengage from the vice of fingers. The boy was bawling.

"Tell me, Chung, did you kill that security guard at the Smithsonian, then pin it on those two teenagers?"

Chung grinned. "How in hell did you know about that? Not your worry, Carver. I did what I had to do. Those punks were perfect to take the fall."

He raised his weapon and pointed it at Zach's head. Chip reared his foot back, then rammed the scooter as hard as he could into Chung's chin. It was all the distraction Zach needed to lunge for the weapon. There was a riveting of bullets as the Uzi was diverted upward, Zach's hand around Chung's wrist. His shoulder lacked the strength to prolong any struggle. In desperation Chung punched the lieutenant in the stomach, nearly doubling him over. It was Chip's quick response of cupping Chung's balls and yelling.

"Drop the gun!"

Chung did release the weapon and then punched Chip right in the jaw, sending the boy flat on his back.

Behind and to the left, Looper had sat up to allow a boy's hands to begin to untie his bonds. The teenager's fingers worked hurriedly, pulling the assorted knots of the shoelace loose. There were exchanges of several punches between a Washington police officer and an ambassador's son determined to stay in control. Chung had noticed the wounded shoulder and hammered away to weaken any resistance. Both men found themselves in a wrestling match to the ground. Every time Chung had a chance to grab his weapon, Zach found a hand or foot to push it further away. A completely helpless arm was of no use, inches away from Chung's fingers reaching for the deciding factor. Zach was weakening, a second away from losing control.

All one hundred and ninety pounds of fighting weight dove onto the two men. Though Zach got the worst of Looper's dive, his boyfriend flattened Chung's effort to obtain the gun. Looper reached out and had the weapon within his fingertips. His spring upward gave a new person the command.

"Breeze your ass, Chung!" Looper yelled and pointed the weapon at the man's chest.

Hsu Chung stood up, breathing hard but smiling of all things.

"Fuck it! Let's get this over with." He raised his arms to surrender. "Arrest me so I can get back to China tomorrow. Maybe we'll meet another day."

"There won't be any diplomatic immunity for you, Chung," Looper said.

Once again laughter came from a confident terrorist. "What are you going to do, shoot me in front of these boys. Cold bloodied murder. Even the Secret Service agents aren't that callous."

Looper thought about this situation for a few seconds, then placed the weapon down in front of him. He kicked it toward Chung.

"What are you doing, Looper?!" Chip yelled while still sitting on the floor and holding his jaw.

The agent's move surprised even Chung. He reached down, but that's when Looper lunged at the man again, this time into a full pledged fight. An expert at martial arts Looper had his quick way with a spoiled drug dealer. As if toying with the man, he let Chung have a swing, then fractured the man's arm. The arm bar went into a choke, a chokehold that only ended with the crack of a neck. Looper looked up at thirty-three faces, all stunned at seeing a death take place before their very eyes.

"The man wouldn't tap out."

Several boys laughed, a few clapped. They were all relieved that their horror had ended. Looper stood above the boys, his nude physique an ideal for any of them to achieve.

"I'm proud of each and every one of you. There is nothing wrong with tears or even pleas to save yourself. You didn't deserve to have your lives threatened. Now before we get dozens of cops in here, I want you in that locker room, showered and dressed. If you want to grab your friend's dick on the way in, so be it."

There were smiles from every boy this time. They raced off in a sprint to their own freedom of the smells of a boys' locker room. For maybe the first time in many years there wasn't a boy there that wouldn't be glad to see their parents.

Zach helped a sixteen-year old up, then hugged him for his help. Chip moved to his favorite bud and melted in a furry chest of muscle.

"I love you guys," Chip said.

Holding the teen at arms' length, Looper sighed. "Well, kiddo, you upstaged me again. We've showed the world our birthday suits, and now you're going to get offers from all these girlie and men's magazines to model in them."

"Really?" Chip asked truly believing Looper. "Damn! Everyone is going to think I haven't hit puberty."

"I don't think that's what they will be thinking," Looper surmised. "Let's get dressed before we flash anymore people."

First things first. Looper and Chip stopped the blood flow from Zach's wound and bandaged it the best they could with strips of cloth taken from the dead around them.

Chip ran to the entrance where darkness had settled on the mass of authority assembled. He yelled out what Looper had told him to say.

"Stand down!!! Situation stabilized!"

Chip raised his hands like a preacher ready to announce the benediction. So many weapons, faces of worry, surprise, if not fear. A few agents rushed forward, guns still drawn. Chip made a dash for it back into the gym.

The inside of the school's gym appeared like a war zone. Zach was helped immediately outside to where medical staff and emergency vehicles were already prepared. In front of a few parents, anxious to hear if everyone was okay, tears began to well up in Zach's eyes and he had trouble saying the words. "It's over. Your sons are okay."

He meant to yell it but it came out softer than expected. His wave to the agents and police around him led to a swarm of personnel running into the gymnasium. As one FBI agent prepared to hush by, Zach caught his arm.

"The boys are in the shower room getting dressed. Don't bother them for a few minutes, okay?" Zach got his nod.

In front of a nationwide audience, floodlights, and a couple thousand applauding spectators, neighbors and parents, thirty-two boys and two adults came out from the gymnasium. Parents rushed forward to hug their precious sons while a contingent of Secret Service agents surrounded Chip to escort him to an awaiting helicopter.

Only Looper volunteered to steer the press away from the First Boy. He gave a full account of what he'd seen and was involved in. Zach, sitting on the bumper of an ambulance, while getting medical attention, made mention that any capture of Chung had involved the heroics of Chip Carver and Agent McElroy. The tenth grade boys had showed bravery and composure in the face of adversity.

Chip stopped his entourage short of entering this helicopter that would take him safely home. Above him he spotted firemen on a long ladder removing the body of a Secret Service agent, half of the man's body hung over the lip of the school's roof. Not that he never appreciated the Secret Service for their job, there was a new reality about the men who were hired to protect his sixteen-year old existence. So he could do what? Masturbate three times a day? Torment his parents and White House staff? It didn't make any sense to Chip that these human beings had to sacrifice so much. He saw the school bus by the gym, faces pressed against windows. One of the terrorists was being dragged from the inside of the bus by several policemen. He put his hand in Looper's and told him he wanted to meet the kids.

After what this boy had to endure no one was ready to deny him his wish. Entering the bus these eighth graders were rejuvenated in seeing this important boy after a long afternoon, if not a fearful one. Blood stains still marked the aisle. Boys and the few girls stuck out their hands to touch someone of such importance. It wasn't the way Chip felt, that he was this special person. He still shook hands and hugged these survivors.

"I want to apologize for what you've been through. It's not that I want to be presidential kid, but Looper here, he's my hero, along with Lt. Stringer, says that we can't choose our parents or our destiny in life. My brother is going to kill me. Oops, sorry about that word. He's going to blame me for disrupting his football game. I know he was looking forward to playing you. If I can make it up to you, and it's okay with my dad, I'd like to invite all of you and your families to the White House on Saturday afternoon for a barbecue and a football game. Our yard is really big, so we'll make it into a football field."

The boys clapped in exuberance. Excitement grew. A girl waved her hand, like this was a classroom. Chip acknowledged her.

"We saw you naked. You're, like, so cute. My father said he read where you're gay. Is that true?"

A few kids giggled and found humor with their peer's blatant question. A boy blurted out, "Yeah, she liked what was between your legs."

Even Chip had to laugh at that one. He shrugged his shoulders, like he had nothing to do with genetics. This wasn't going to be easy to kids almost his age.

"I'm proud of being a gay teenager. It's who I am and I have very loving sisters and a brother who support my attraction. My mom knows, but my dad is still adjusting."

Chip smiled which brought out several nods amidst the kids. He'd done it! Finally let the world know.

"How long does it get?" the team's spry cornerback asked.

He was quickly reprimanded by the bus driver and conked on the top of his head by another girl cheerleader. Chip leaned forward and whispered in the boy's ear. Every eye and ear was on this boy's good fortune that Chip Carver had confided in him something special. Moments of silence, like surely he would tell.

"I think it's time to go," Looper said to his favorite boy.

Chip began walking backwards. "I hope to be seeing all of you this Saturday! My people will be in touch with your people."

He'd heard his dad say that more than one time. He had certainly made friends with a group of eighth graders.

Lucas Manstrel stood up, his five seconds of fame to his peers inside the bus. "Okay, okay! Nine and a-half inches. Is that cool, or what?!"

Laughter prevailed and more than one adult blushed. Even their bus driver had to laugh where this conversation had gone.









Chapter Thirty-One



The Marine VH-60 landed on the South Lawn amidst a light fluttering of snow. Chip stepped off, took in a breath of brisk air and figured that life had given him a second chance. He never could have lived with himself if any of his friends had been injured or killed. It was bad enough that men he knew and respected had died to protect him. So much had been taken for granted, never fully understanding the possibilities of the evil lurking in men's hearts.

A group of people were running toward him and Chip realized it was his family. Hugs and kisses from his siblings but not a word of regret of missing his football game from Philly. His mom and dad were last, both taking their eldest within their arms. Mrs. Carver was crying and his father barely held it together.

Chip was not a tough boy, though he pretended as such, but tears gave way and he bawled on his father's shoulders. All the tension and emotional chaos were let go in those precious seconds. President Carver just held on for dear life. Even Looper kept his distance, knowing this was maybe the best catharsis known to man and boy.

Inside this executive mansion, President Carver didn't want to release his arm from around his son's shoulders. Philly had his own arm around his brother's waist. If anything would have happened to Chip, Philly would have been totally devastated. He had watched all the drama on television. Even then he knew that if anyone could find a solution it would be Looper and his brother.

Finally Chip collected his composure, turned and kissed Philly on the forehead, then turned to his father.

"Dad, is it okay if we have a hundred or so people over for a barbecue on Saturday? I sort of invited Brentwood for a football game my brother missed today."

POTUS smiled, gave it a second of consideration. "I think my skills on the grill need brushing up. I know a few NFL refs that may need a tune-up for their games on Sunday."

He got the hug that was always welcomed.

Even a Secret Service agent has paper work to fill out over any type of incident. Looper spent two hours furnishing the report, another with the president in giving him first-hand information on all that had gone down.

"It might be best that you stop in on the boy before you leave," Alain told this man who had played such an important role in his son's life.

Sure he could be jealous, envious of this relationship between bodyguard and the First Boy. The entire nation was aware of it now. Instead Alain took it as a blessing in disguise. It no longer mannered how they felt for each other, only that his son was alive and well.

"Mr. President, I feel I owe you an apology for overstepping my boundaries with your son. I just want you to know that I love Chip a great deal. As someone hired to protect the boy I've probably violated a code of ethics by allowing my emotions to interfere."

President Carver came from around his desk and shook hands with Agent McElroy. Eye to eye contact preceded any words.

"Nonsense, Looper. I've not only neglected that boy with compassion and empathy, I almost lost him. I have you to owe for getting my son back. I might not fully understand the love you two share, but I accept it now. Get your ass in there before he falls asleep."

The president stood proud and then hugged Looper like he would an older son. It meant a great deal to both men.

"I knew you'd come," Chip said and clicked on his nightlight. He swept his covers back to reveal his boyish pleasure. Looper chuckled.

"It's been a long day for us both, sport. As much as I'd love to jump in that sack with you I have to get to the hospital and check on Zach and that boy who got shot in the leg. How's the head and jaw?"

"A little sore. You could make it feel a whole lot better."

"Which head are we talking about?"

Looper sat down by the side of the bed and was leveled flat when Chip moved his torso on the man's chest.

"We were pretty good together today. A real team. Can marriages come in threes?"

Looper knew exactly what the teenager meant. "You will always have a special place in my heart, Chipper. Three-way relationships rarely work out. Someone usually gets jealous and feels left out. Finish high school and college, then if you feel the same way we'll discuss it then. Chances are another boy is going to come along and steal your heart. By the way, you did awesome today. You saved Zach's life. I feel Chung was going to shoot the man until you reacted. Did you have a plan of attack?"

Chip thought it. "It was like the first time we had sex. I took the risk of putting my hand on your crotch to see your reaction. I'd never really experienced sex. I was curious, scared, apprehensive, but really excited. After we were done it was a relief. Not as complicated or as scary as I thought. You were so gentle and caring. Today was like that. I had to show I had the balls to do what I knew was right. You've taught me that I have to step up, be confident and brave. I know I'm a big cry baby, but I know God loves me and wants me to experience life to its fullest."

Looper was never more surprised at his sixteen-year old as then. The boy was far more than special, he was a godsend. When do you tell a young man to pull in the reins, to not be so blatant and daring? This boy was always balls-out, an in-your-face adolescent who didn't always look at both sides of the issue. Maturity was taking hold and maybe, just maybe, he had something to do with this growth. Looper swung his arm around this beautiful nude frame.

"I look forward to meeting the man who will corral my baby boy. I'll be jealous, but I'll have to smile because I know how lucky this person will be. No matter what happens to us I will always love you, Chip Carver."

With that Looper planted a long kiss on his favorite person. He sprang up before Chip could persuade him otherwise. It was already a race to the door when he saw Chip rip out of his bed, fully aroused. All Chip could do was pout. The excited teenager glanced down at an erection staring right back at him. He headed for his brother's room.







Chapter Thirty-Two


For those visitors on the perimeter of the White House fence this spectacle of a flag football game being played on the White House lawn was quite entertaining. Two NFL refs went about their professionalism in controlling an eight versus eight game played by 13 & 14-year old boys.

A throng of parents, siblings, cheerleaders and White House staff cheered from the sidelines decorated with lawn chairs. The crispy morning had turned into a sunny afternoon, perfect for a game where Philly Carver led his team to a 45 to 7 trouncing of the visiting Brentwood Academy. Given the scene and extraordinary circumstances, the score wasn't all that important to anyone.

For several girls who had seen their classmate on television in all his glory they let their peer know he had a cute butt among other things. President Carver and the First Lady and family were amongst those in attendance at this football game. It was the first game the president had ever watched his son play. After the game the president parlayed his forgotten skill at the large barbecue, assisting in the barbecuing of fried chicken, hot dogs and hamburgers. If anyone noticed, and most did, President Carver wore an "Equality" button on his label, a gay symbol much like the rainbow flag. There was no more hiding the fact that his eldest son was a gay teenager.

It was in a post-game celebration where families enjoyed the meal and tour of the White House that a Brentwood boy, a safety on his team, tugged on Chip's jacket. The blond eighth grader proceeded to confess a secret he'd kept for two years.

"You're my hero," Jacob Adams said, which wasn't easy for a thirteen-year old to admit to a sixteen-year old. "I think I'm gay, I just haven't told anyone."

"You have now," Chip reassured him. "It's the first step to being yourself. I admire your bravery."

"Could you show me your room?" Jacob asked, rather innocently.

"Sure, come on," Chip replied with a wink toward Looper, who followed them to the stairs leading to the family quarters.

Looper went as far as the bedroom door, then breezed through Philly's bedroom to keep an eye on these two. Jacob was awed at the size and the simplicity of Chip's bedroom. Hardly full of sports equipment or toys, it did have a few photos of athletes, a couple of photos torn out of the recent ESPN nude photo issue of outstanding athletes. Hardly assuming, but slightly adventurous, Jacob admitted he'd never done anything gay; only that he liked boys and going on the Internet to gay Web sites.

Chip bent down to this boy who was six inches shorter and kissed him. A quick lesson on French kissing and two sets of hands were all over each other. It was a demonstration of gay sex 101, and everything that Chip did was repeated back.

A dream come true for this thirteen-year old, a little choking and lecturing not to use teeth were well worth having a dick in his mouth for the first time. He was in Chip Carver's bedroom, in heaven, and naked. What more can a gay boy ask for? If an advanced course was in the works, it never got that far because Jacob ejaculated the second Chip touched his anus with his tongue.

"Wow! I love you, Chip Caver," Jacob blurted out as Chip cleaned the small spool of sperm from the boy's abdomen.

"Thanks for saying that. There are boys at your school who are looking for that someone special. You'll meet a special boy soon, trust me."

These two certainly didn't need Looper's help or protection. He slid back into Philly's room with a smile on his face. After all, he had to make sure the thirteen-year old was as innocent as he looked.

Jacob stopped his first boyhood crush at the door. He kissed Chip to show how much he'd learned.

"This is the greatest day of my life," Jacob said with absolute certainty.

Chip's school had been closed for the remainder of the week, opening again on Friday to the cheers of students for the agents who once more protected these kids and staff from potential harm. A memorial assembly paid homage to those who had lost their lives. For one injured boy in the incident he had his cast signed by a hundred autographs. It wasn't every boy who could claim being shot by a terrorist.

President Puton had given Chip's e-mail to the Moscow press, seeking understanding to the Russian peoples for toleration of all sexual orientations. It was no more than a token, but a start nonetheless. President Puton had sent a special e-mail back to the president's son, relieved that he was safe after an unfortunate attack and, yes, he had reconsidered his position on gay rights for his country. He hoped that Chip would come visit him the following summer for a two-week martial arts camp that the president often attended. Chip texted back that, with his father's permission, both he and Philly would love to attend. They could even bring Yuri Pacheko back to visit his siblings if he wanted.

Puton immediately responded that that wouldn't be necessary. Ambassador Pacheko had received orders to return to Russia as soon as possible for crimes against Mother Russia. Yuri would likely be put in a boys' home.

Chip leaped up from his computer. The note! In his pajamas Chip ran to his parents' bedroom and dove on the space between his mother and father. They were both reading their current novels.

"And we owe this pleasure to what?" Mrs. Carver asked. "You're too old to sleep with us. Is it that monster again?"

"Funny," Chip responded. "Dad, I was supposed to give this to you from Yuri's dad. Puton is sending the man back to Russia, anyway, but he's really a cool guy."

Alain opened the note, sat straight up and dialed Agent McElroy. A conversation that neither the First Lady nor their son should have heard was paramount for many people's future. The president clicked off his phone and spoke with his son.

"You call Yuri immediately and tell him to tell his father that KFC is in town at two this morning."

Chip sprang from the bed and ran to his room. In seconds he had Yuri's ear and relayed exactly what his father had said.

Within three hours the former Russian Ambassador to the United States was now at the American Embassy after seeking political asylum. It wasn't unusual for the ambassador and his son to enjoy Kentucky Fried Chicken at all hours. On this journey they just never returned from their bathroom break.

Within two weeks Yuri was starting high school in a little town in South Dakota and practicing his judo at a local dojo. Chip promised his friend that he would visit soon. Despite missing his best friend, Yuri was the happiest boy in the world knowing he'd be in America for the rest of his life.

President Carver wouldn't lose his smile for several days. He'd finally gotten one over on this pain-in-the-ass Russian president. Puton responded that he'd fucked America's First Boy, so the least he could do was offer a washed up ambassador.

Rather than question this absurdity and go ballistic, Alain texted back his counter. >>>My son says you're clumsy and need more experience. You're probably a better bottom, my friend<<<















Chapter Thirty-Three



"Yahoo!" That was the First Boy's exclamation as school was let out before their Christmas vacation was about to commence. He leaped sideways to click his heels to the amusement of his peers and in front of Looper. There were hundreds of school kids who felt the same way.

Agent Wenzel McElroy had a two-week vacation coming, a welcome relief from the school detail. He'd miss this boy, a teenager who had changed a great deal in the past two weeks. No longer wanting to pick a fight with his father, this subtle acceptance of himself and others had been noticed by all.

Chip saw it for what it is, regardless of society's intolerance or ignorance about others' attractions and loves. His viewpoint had become the seed of a new maturity.

Around the White House there were rumors of changes heard during the early morning meetings. Looper wasn't sure exactly what the president had in mind, but it could well be the end of being a part of Chip's life. Over the past few days Looper had witnessed both a new and the old Chip Carver. On Wednesday, a day after the attempted abduction, Chip had been a pensive, withdrawn teenager, quick to rebuke his brother in workouts and dismissal of any adult intervention to discuss what was at the core of this behavior. Philly kept his distance and Looper felt the inevitable had happened--boy outgrows man, not vice versa.

With Zach over for the night at his apartment, Looper gradually confessed his long term relationship and intimacy with a teenager who was both irresistibly sensitive, fascinating, annoying, but obsessively attractive. Looper expected a lecture, if not censure. An adult succumbing to the beauty of a minor falls near pervert labels.

Quite the contrary, Zach was neither judgmental nor critical of his lover's actions.

"Wenzel, given a percentage or two of heterosexual men, adolescent beauty is a vice we would all succumb to if given the opportunity. It's why God made the young capable of child birth, because it is the young who should have babies and the adult who should raise them. For thousands of years this is exactly what happened. The premise has changed but not the attractiveness. Gay males are no different. Your only flaw is telling a political law to stick it."

Zach confessed his own indiscretions with Chip, not that he caved to the temptation, but that he masturbated to what could have been and allowed the boy to watch him.

Looper grinned. "Chip never told me about that. That little bugger! Do you know he got it on with President Puton? Russia is no longer trying to suppress the gay movement."

They both roared with laughter. "To a teenager the rewards will always out way any consequences," Zach said very accurately. "They are clumsy creatures, not necessarily meaning physically, but mentally as well. They need time to sort things out, to weigh the variables offered them. More than often, they jump into the act without thinking of the outcomes. Our mental cogs have had time to mesh. Theirs haven't. But maybe that's why boys are so tempting of creatures. They do things out of reflex with such exuberance it's refreshing. There are no ulterior motives, no great expectations, and all they want is to be accepted. Far cry from the adult version. With the exception of present company."

"How are you so smart, Lt. Stringer?"

Looper rolled over on top of his partner, gradually slipping his cock underneath for a second go-around.

"One of us has to understand our jobs; while the other one has an impulsive hard-on, which isn't all that bad, mind you. At least I know why two males fell in love with you." Looper said before he relished this man with his tongue.

Looper had taken all this with him to work on Thursday, knowing another day off from school, but not from the First Boy. A 16-year old can be callous, out of tune with how he affects another person. Looper was ready to be shunned, rejected or even told to go to hell. Going into a morning martial arts training that Philly desired, Looper was ready for an abrasive teen.

Philly had even told his brother that he was acting like a girl on her period. Chip was much more congruous with his brother, physically hyper, and studious to everything his sensei instructed.

Afterwards, when Philly walked out of the dojo to toss their gi into the washers, Chip snagged Looper's underwear as the agent began to put it on. A press of groin against groin, mouth to mouth, Chip made sure they collapsed to the mat. A surrounding of Looper's waist with his legs, Chip was quite obvious what he desired.

When Philly walked back in he went wide-eyed. The boy stripped quickly and took a role that even surprised Looper. In their social lives, Philly was always submissive to his older brother. In sex, it was the opposite. Sitting on his brother's face, while Looper had fully penetrated to his rear, Philly demanded this oral pleasure to more than one area. A slow thrust of his dick into Chip's mouth was of a dominance that excited all three males. When Philly came it was an ejaculation onto the face of his sibling, a distinct victory over a superior.

As Looper reached climax, Philly masturbated Chip to orgasm at the same time. The three kissed in unison that this was a perfect way to end the workout. No words were necessary.

"Teenagers! Looper said to humor the moment as they dressed. "One day they're Rubik Cubes; the next they're lovable human beings."

"We're here to torment adults," Chip said and gave a high five to his sibling.

By Friday an Elmwood Academy Christmas play was ready to have its students back. Even a new front to a new home across the street had taken shape. All in all, it was a successful day for all.

Agent McElroy had no more stepped back into the White House with his human delivery safely back when he was told to report to the Oval Office. President Carver appeared busy in his facial contortions that this meeting was a nuisance. He barely looked up at Wenzel.

"Oh, yes, Agent McElroy, I only have a minute. You are relieved of your school duties."

Without so much as a glance the president slid an employee file in front of Wenzel.

"This is your replacement, a new recruit hired today. You are to brief him and make the man familiar with the schools my children attend. Do we understand each other?"

"Yes, sir," Looper responded rather disheartened and without glancing at the employee profile folder. "May I ask?"

The president interrupted. "I know you usually take two weeks' vacation during this time. I would appreciate it if you just took one. There's a favor I need from you."

In Looper's mind he was swearing that the president had some nerve after just firing him. He nodded and listened nonetheless.

"I want you and this new agent to take my boys on vacation. It'll give the new guy an opportunity to become familiar with my sons. See, the First Lady, myself and the girls will be visiting their grandparents after Christmas. My father is old school and is having trouble dealing with his grandson being gay. It's going to take time. Chip and my father, well....."

Looper almost smiled. Here was the President of the United States afraid of his own father. What a cop out!

"Mr. President, let me get this right. You want me to take my second week of vacation and spend it with your boys." Purely a reiteration, Looper didn't want to make it sound like a question.

"Yes, that's what I'm asking. Any problems? Mrs. Carver had a check for you as incentive."

A slight hesitation. "No, sir. I mean, yes, but do I have a new assignment when I return?"

Finally Alain glanced up, leaned back, his face now unhinging from presidential worries. This second of examination was like an assurance he'd made the right decision. The president knew he had.

"Agent McElroy, you're the best Secret Service agent I've ever experienced. You're now the head of my personal security detail. Agent Halloway is retiring at my request. The day my son has to save me from injury or death is regrettable and embarrassing. Sit down, Looper, you're making me think I'm like my father. My old man has been on my nerves all day. Someday I'll have to ask George Bush how he tolerated his father hovering over him like some hawk."

The two men moved to the sofa that partially covered the huge presidential rug.

"Looper, my sons have been wanting to go kayaking. What they don't want is to have fifty agents and their father around barking orders. You know them well enough to know they'd rather skinny dip, shoot bows, do some target shooting and take a shit in the woods. All things that boys should do before they become too citified. They've been stuck in this stuffy house for too long. Get my drift?"

Looper nodded, yet his mind was racing with this new promotion. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought advancement was possible at such a young age. If there was a better time, he couldn't imagine it for telling the president his future. It may well cost him this advancement.

"Sir, Mr. President, I had planned on asking Officer Stringer to marry me. Would this change your mind about asking me to head your detail?"

Alain reached over and placed his hand on Looper's shoulder.

"Young man, you have my complete trust and confidence. Mrs. Carver and I would be honored if you'd invite us to your wedding. I don't have to tell you how my kids feel. Chip will probably be depressed and want to kill you. Don't let him around any knives for a while."

Looper laughed. "I actually had to ask for his permission. Thank you, Mr. President. Where would you like me to take the boys on this kayaking trip?"

"Chip has mentioned New Zealand. I'll leave that up to you, but the more remote the better. It'll just be two agents and my boys to blend into nature. No one will even know where you are or who you are. It's safer that way. Consider this top secret. Outside of the agency we're not talking."

"It is summer there," Looper said out loud. He just hoped that this new agent was easy to get along with.

"Okay, it's set then. By the way, Mary expects you and yours--what do we call your mate? Groom? Anyway, you're expected for Christmas dinner with the family."

"Thank you, Mr. President. I know Zach and I feel honored."

"Expect an increase in your paycheck. Well deserved, mind you."

Looper met the president's hand in agreement. This new detail leader couldn't resist asking.

"Mr. President, any trouble with you wearing that pin?"

Alain chuckled. "Glad you mentioned that. Mary and I hope that when my eldest son is ready for college that you might request being his protectorate. We'd feel better about the boy's safety."

"But you could appoint me, provided that you're reelected, Mr. President."

"Yes, that would be ideal. It appears my party frowns on my support for the gay movement. My prayers are that I'll pick up the gay voters to replace the block of right wingers who supported me the first time around."

"I'll make sure that happens," Looper said with some assurance.

With the press he'd just received, an article in the Advocate and other gay magazines would assure the president of the gay community.

Agent Wenzel departed the Oval Office with a dread of telling Chip that his availability would now be limited. The boy wouldn't take it well. He opened this new employee's file. It wasn't so much that he stopped in his tracks, but his smile would last the rest of the day.






















Chapter Thirty-Four


Christmas vacation was upon the Carver children as the White House was now a shimmering Christmas delight. Upstairs in the family wing another Christmas tree was hi-lighted by numerous gifts, several of these by previous groups or visitors of the Carver children.

The Masquez musical trio had sent an e-mail apologizing for their cancellation. Being booked on a television special was financially more beneficial. Possibly New Year's Eve, if they were so invited. The Carver kids gave a thumbs up to that one.

In place of this musical group, an act with three boys from North Jersey was booked. Philly had seen them on the Internet and told Chelsea, who just had to meet the guitar player. Melissa admitted to having eyes for the violinist, and Philly was in awe of the boy playing banjo, more his age anyway.

Chip used his time away from school to search his Internet for reaction of his near abduction. Seventeen Magazine did an article on this First Boy after interviews with several boys and girls that had been on the bus that day from Brentwood. The key topic was the coming out of Chip Carver, America's number one gay icon. The editor said that Chip was the ideal role model for all teenagers, not just gay ones.

Chip smiled, though he wasn't sure if he could ever live up to others' expectations. Then there was the backlash of the religious right. In a Baptist newsletter their headlines were: President's son speaks praise of being gay in front of 13-year olds. Chip frowned, like he was really trying to influence these kids to turn gay. People were such idiots. Many of these political bigmouths, egocentric fools his dad called them, blamed lack of parental supervision or leadership in having a son so outspoken and morally inept. There was one senator from Arizona that Chip wanted to kick in the balls for his ignorant comment.

Mrs. Carver found her son at his computer, a rather despondent boy playing the role of Don Quixote. She put her hands over her son's eyes.

"Honey, you have a choice here. You can fight windmills of ignorance all day or know that you're above this pettiness of men and women who don't have a clue of God's love. Your choice, but I prefer my happy, carefree, horny teenage son."

His computer case shut, Chip got up and hugged his mother.

"Thanks, Mom. For a girl you're really smart."

On the 24th, this heartthrob from Britain arrived at the doorstep of the White House, mother and son in tow. Ronin was to England what Justin Bieber had been to Canada, both cute boys with charisma. His ego was a fraction of the Canadian and far more grounded. In Ronin's case the boy could sing and had feminine charm that still made girls flock to his concerts and gay boys hoping they'd be chosen to be an eventual boyfriend.

Ronin's Facebook page made it known that he was looking forward to meeting Chip Carver, America's version of a prince. This English lad had taken some major hits from cyber bullying about his effeminate gestures and soft features. There was some defensive reaction normally expected from an adolescent ego, but he stayed his ground and found that his fans hadn't deserted him.

Best laid plans seldom go according to expectations. Christmas Eve festivities had eight teenagers in the theatre enjoying Bad Santa. The First Lady, along with Ronin's mom, stood at the entrance for a check-in and wondered where movies have gone. Ryan, Reece, and Roy were disciplined teenagers who had taken blue grass music by storm with their abilities as young musicians. Their personalities were so different that Chelsea's, Michelle's, and Philly's picks were quickly adjusted within the first hour.

It was Roy, the youngest, who was the comic, the female charmer who Chelsea was no match for. She found his masculine spirit and bluffs to her liking. The boy had no idea what he wished for was at his fingertips. This fourteen-year old could make a woman twice his age feel like putty, all an act, but tempered like a trained actor. Chelsea found him irresistibly adorable.

Reece, the guitarist, was the quieter and the oldest of the brothers, perfect for Michelle's intellect, though four years older. Older didn't mean experienced or adept at handling girls who didn't see sex as something that one should wait for.

Philly, on the other hand, didn't have to pursue anyone, Ryan was by his side like a devoted dog. If Philly had the skills to seduce a straight boy, the words seduce and straight weren't in Ryan's playbook. The second president's son had won the Heisman Trophy without demonstrating his fourteen-year old skill at quarterbacking. His smile and social graces won Ryan over in five minutes.

Ronin was Ronin. Sensitive, gleeful, flamboyant, and sometimes squirrelly, Chip was entrenched with the British youth's girlish antics. When the boy sang Puppy Love at the evening's concert, Chip was sure Ronin's eyes were directed at him. He hoped that Ronin saw him adjust his erection.

Chelsea's red dress with white ribbons stood out amongst the crowd of invited guests, staff, and her peers. Her breast line invited a second glimpse and had most males enticed by her beauty. Mary Carver, a blossom beauty herself, didn't dare challenge her daughter's choice of dresses. Her seventeen-year old certainly knew how to attract boys.

Ronin fluttered his way to her side, more inclined to want to trade outfits than to play with what was in them. England's most promising singer was quick to tell this eldest child of President Carver the history of Chelsea, the birthplace of the English muffin and Oreos.

Roy was too busy eyeing a pair of muffins that were nearly bursting out from this red dress. The delicious festive foods and sumptuously decorated State Room made this Yuletide gathering a special time.

"I'd like to give you a private recital," Roy whispered to Chelsea, a tease he expected rebuttal. The boy had no idea who he was flirting with.

Chelsea laughed to this youngster's cute temerity. She accepted.

"I'm excited to see your chord. Maybe I can play with it."

Roy blushed, almost dropping his cup of eggnog. Blood left his face and he had to take a few seconds to replay what he had just heard.

The Carver boys, dressed in holiday sweaters above khaki trousers and dress shoes, sampled every delicacy offered on these festive tables of flowers. Above each doorway was mistletoe, but the First Lady had the most fun, kissing every boy there with her motherly peck. The teens had more in mind.

Philly had volunteered his room for the nightly pajama party, though no prearrangements had been made like their previous guests. It was quite possible the evening might be a dud, complete with everyone keeping their jammies on. Fortunately, the over protectorate mother of Ronin had enjoyed her socializing so much. After numerous glasses of spiked punch, her tipsiness had distracted any surveillance of her son.

The president caught his sons, one under each arm, to present to several of his friends in attendance. If Chip had expected to see Senator Addling there, it wasn't to be. The two state senators and three congressmen, all major supporters of Alain's reelection, shook hands with these teens, especially giving praise to Chip's recent heroic efforts. His sexuality didn't seem to faze these politicians.

As Chip stayed in close proximity to his father, he heard a senator ask whether his boy's recent comments had had a negative feedback. Alain smiled, undisturbed by recent events.

"Gentlemen, like one of my favorite predecessors said, I feel like a man who was tarred and feathered and ridden out of town on a rail. If it wasn't for the honor of the thing, I would rather have walked."

The men roared with laughter, not sure whether Alain saw the writing on the wall or he was ready to fight for not only his son's rights but millions of males and females whose sexuality was their only difference in being American.

When the teens scampered upstairs to the family quarters, no one much noticed their absence downstairs. Drinking and gossip were the mainstays. Roy made sure to take his banjo for his big chance to play something romantic for Chelsea. This chord thing might just be in his imagination; certainly girls didn't talk that sexy. Chelsea left him in her bedroom and quickly departed to Philly's room to see what everyone wanted to do.

Chip finally had this English cutie to himself, lifting a twig of mistletoe he'd snagged from a decoration above their heads. He leaned forward to kiss those soft lips when Ronin hesitated.

"Chip, I'm not a poof, you know."

An incredulous face, Chip said emphatically, "Really!" It wasn't a question. He let it hang. "Ronin, for three years I've watched you since Britain's Got Talent. You have gay written on your forehead. Have you had sex with a girl?"

"Well, no, not exactly. I enjoy being around them, that's all. I have thousands of female fans. How do you know if you're gay or not?"

Chip sat the boy down on his bed, rather confused how a sixteen-year old, like himself, could not know who he was attracted to.

"Well, what do you masturbate to?"

Ronin grinned. "I've never been asked that question, but this boy I've known since we were really young, well, we used to jerk each other off. It's like, since I've got all this attention he no longer wants to do it. He talks about girls at school. I guess I think of him and what we used to do."

Chip put his hands on the boy's shoulders, a more gentle being could only be found on a cartoon show.

"My friend, we have penis on the brain. The smell of a man, his shape, his eyes, his strength, they make us do crazy things, like fall in love. It hurts to be away from him because we desire that closeness to be one with him. I get this impression you think about cock, but you're not sure. Ronin, do you like being a boy?"

"Yeah, I mean, I like having a penis and balls, if that's what you mean."

"The Male Rorschach Test," Chip said and whipped off to find Chelsea, leaving this British doll clueless.

He opened his sister's room and saw Roy stark naked with his banjo across his groin. The boy had major panic on his face. He wanted this to be a surprise, not necessarily for another boy. Chip saw this skinny banjo player, walked over and peeked behind the banjo to see a small batch of pubic hair above a five-inch erection that was gradually sinking.

"It's cool. Where's my sister?"

Roy could barely get the words out. "Ah, out there somewhere."

"Thanks. By the way, my sister likes foreplay."

"What's that?" Roy asked.

"Kissing, things like that. Kiss her tits all the way down to her clit. Play with it with your tongue."

"What does it look like?"

"Trust me, you'll know it when you find it. Think of it as a mini dick. Go slow and watch her go wild. If you're a virgin, think of something gross so you don't cum right away. Good luck."

Chip hustled to his brother's room. Inside the bedroom four kids were sitting on Philly's bed, eating pastries. He escorted his oldest sister to the hallway and explained the problem.

Chelsea had trouble believing this. "You're fuckin' joking? That boy is so queer his butt quivers."

With sister in tow they moved quickly to Chip's bedroom. Chelsea had no problem assisting her gay brother and a British boy she found adorably effeminate.

"For research purposes only," Chip said as he and his sister approached a puzzled Ronin.

Without hesitation Chip unzipped Ronin's pants and moved these and the boy's underwear south. A nice set of balls hung below a smooth four-incher.

"Okay, we're ready."

Chelsea let Chip unzip the back of her dress before she peeled down her top to reveal her breast. Perky and voluptuous, they were a nubile girl's dream. They both looked at Ronin's penis--nothing. Down went the dress, then the powder blue panties until Chelsea was totally naked. They waited.

Ronin looked wide-eyed, amazed, but no reaction. Chelsea stepped forward and laid a fat one on the boy's lips. A slight twitch but nothing more.

"My brother has the perfect package to make that thing of yours rise. Go to it and never look back," Chelsea said, gathered her clothes and departed.

"Thank you, the test is complete," Chip said. He moved back to Ronin who was pulling up his pants. "Not yet," Chip said, beginning to peel off his T-shirt, then his pants.

He lifted his guest's shirt to disrobe the boy completely. Leaving his own underwear on, he brought Ronin to his chest to hold the boy's face against it. A very passionate kiss on the boy's lips that also involved a little tongue action. Chip felt the English boy melt in his arms. He released. They both glanced down, Ronin's penis was rising as they looked.

Chip removed his underwear, already a stiff cock flipped out. When Ronin saw its length his own cock twitched and grew to full length.

"You're gay. Welcome to a boy's world," Chip pronounced.

Chip did a dozen touch-and-go kisses down to an uncircumcised penis, straight and rigid. To the underside he rode his tongue upward and got squirted in the nose by a warm spray of cum. That advice he gave Roy might have well been adhered to with this teenager. With experienced suction, Chip swallowed the rest of the ejaculation.

He picked up this weakened youth, enamored and lost in temporary sexual utopia, and carried him to bed. They passionately kissed each other for several minutes. Chip wasn't surprised that his playmate hadn't even gone soft.

Agents were exempted from the family wing unless you were Looper. It made it easy for Chelsea to scoot naked to her room, holding her clothes to her chest. She had forgotten that Roy was there. He was as surprised as she was. Roy sat on the large bedspread of lush pinks and blue streaks. His planned romantic tune never finished. Chelsea's nudity had a far more positive reaction on Roy than on Ronin. His erection made playing a banjo that much more difficult. He'd forgotten all that Chip had told him, but that didn't matter, Chelsea had her own version of foreplay and domination of one young male.

Michelle and Reece, hand in hand, were simply on an excursion to see what their brother and sister were doing. When Michelle opened the door, Roy raised up, his slim hips moving like a piston between a set of long, athletic legs. His wave to his brother was one of pride and accomplishment.

Melissa reached down and felt Reece's erection in his pajamas. She never released her hold, but guided him back to her bedroom. No use in having just one brother lose his virginity.

Philly wasn't having as much luck in finding the opportunity to get intimate. The boy was sure that all Ryan needed was a visual stimuli. They moved on hands and knees to see what Chip and Ronin were doing. Their subdued laughs heard, "Will it hurt?" to an eventual, "Oh, yes, faster, faster."

"Are you hard?" Philly asked his new friend next to him.

Ryan rode up on his knees, his pajamas poking straight out. It was all it took. They never got further than the bathroom rug until they were ready for round two.

Six o'clock on his alarm clock no longer required an alarm. Chip's internal clock woke the boy as if it was a school day. His eyes barely opened after four hours of sleep, he could have easily gone back to sleep. But, hey, it was Christmas!

He slipped out of bed to move to his window. A blanket of snow covered the ground. Chip knew that even one inch made Washington shut down. Grabbing his cell phone he went to the bathroom to call downstairs. The White House butler knew exactly what to do. These kids would not be returning home on their scheduled flights today.

Chip stepped into his brother's bedroom. Arms tossed over each other's chest, Philly and Reece were fast asleep. As he'd done for a dozen years he dragged Philly out of bed until they tumbled together onto the soft, furry rug. Though rudely awoken, Philly knew, his laughter was contagious and his morning boner arched upward as he lay out over his brother's stomach.

"Merry Christmas, Philly," Chip greeted as expected.

He reached around and cupped his brother's balls. "Santa's favorite ornaments. Your candy cane isn't bad either."

Philly turned to smooch his brother on the nose. "Good to see you made Ronin's bulb light up."

"That boy made me come four times last night. I made him sing."

"Merry Christmas, Chip." Philly said to welcome this morning.

He kissed his brother, their love each year as strong as ever.

"Hey, what's happening?" A sheepish Reese looked over the side, finding humor in these two brothers in their birthday suits.

"Merry Christmas, Reece! Get up! I'll get Ronin," Chip greeted.

"But we have to catch a flight," Reece spoke in disappointment.

"Nope! Flight cancelled. Check outside."

With this news Reece bounced out of bed and strolled to the window, his half-erection swinging with every step.

"Cool" He turned back. "But we don't want to interrupt your opening of presents."

"You won't. We have some for you, too," Chip said.

He figured the White House butler was on his way to find an open store at that very moment.

Cruel, but necessary, Chip entered his bedroom and swung back the covers to reveal the lanky nude body of a boy that Chip had made love to four times over two hours. His dick was sore but there was no doubt that the love making had made Ronin a believer.

When Ronin mumbled, relentless in not responding, Chip dragged the boy, head and shoulders first, across the carpet to the bathroom. Philly and Reece helped lift the naked form into the steaming shower. Their laughter had Ronin surrender to their antics. It wasn't sexual, but fun, nonetheless.

Bathroom behavior with four boys had its priceless comments. Ronin was the only one who thought he needed privacy to take a shit. His celebrity status had no value in a Carver bathroom.

"Some girls!" Chip humored and got a blown kiss in return.

Required pajamas for breakfast and opening presents, it was a scene from Chariots of Fire with eight teens chasing each other down the stairs for breakfast.

Adults weren't quite as responsive which was fine with these teens. The White House cook knew how to put on a morning Christmas spread that had these teenagers' mouths drooling with sweetness. A choice of French toast, pancakes, or waffles. Eggs, jam and toast, and a variety of juices were at their very call.

"Put more than donuts and sweet rolls in your stomachs," Mrs. Carver said as she walked in this family dining room.

She went around the table and kissed each boy and girl there.

"How was your night?"

The boys smiled, not quite believing that they'd each lost their virginity in one way or another. Ronin reached under the table and had Chip's dick in his hand. He was smitten.

"Beware of holly and mistletoe, my daughters are practicing," Mary teased the male guests.

"If you only knew, Mother," Chelsea said quietly.

"Boys, I've called your parents. The airport will likely reopen this afternoon. I'm sorry that you'll have to wait to share Christmas with your family."

"Taken care of, Mom," Chip said with a wink. Ronin's mother strolled in, feeling a little under the weather to her indulgence the night before. She apologized to her son for not being around, as if a sixteen-year old desires to have his mother know everything he's doing.

Ronin was sure he was in love, even to the point of holding Chip's hand as they ran down the staircase.

The Carver children drew out breakfast as long as they could in wait for the White House butler to return. Luckily a Wal-Mart was open, even on Christmas morning. Petty cash had its benefits for such occasions. The White House butler poked his head in the door.

As if on cue, Chip yelled, "Santa has come!"

"You mean like you're about ready to from the vibrations I feel." Philly tormented these two across from him.

Ronin's arm gave that away. The boy had turned from a modest, shy boy singer to a sexual dynamo in one night. The ladies didn't quite get the meaning of that, but every teenager there knew what was up. If Ronin's mom hadn't been there, Chip would have stood up to verify his boner well exposed out of the fly of his pajamas.

"Call it my stocking stuffer," Chip said and had Ronin in stitches.

With all their guests getting the latest in Nikon cameras or Apple tablets, Chip and Philly were surprised to open up a single envelope stashed inside the tree branches, addressed to the two of them. Enclosed was an invitation for four to New Zealand for kayaking, fishing and hiking.

Since this envelope was the first required present to be opened, it made sense that so many of their wrapped gifts were wetsuits, booties, fly rods, and recurve bows.

"This is going to be so awesome, Dad," Philly announced. "Who's going besides us three?"

Alain felt embarrassed in front of children who weren't his.

"Sons, I'm not going with you this time around."

"Not our sister?!" Chip protested.

"Like we can't rough it like boys," Michelle countered.

Chip loved a debate with the female competition. "Like we want to listen to girls scream and cry because the river is too rough and they miss their soft toilet paper."

Mrs. Carver came to the rescue. "Don't get your undies all bunched up, youngster. Your sisters are going to grandpa's with your father and I."

Philly dropped his pajamas to show he wasn't wearing underwear. Even Ronin's mom put her hand over her mouth. Mrs. Carver was far more vocal.

"Philly Drew Carver! Show some class for a change. Your guests don't need to see your genitals."

"We don't mind," Reece said and had Chip give him a thumbs up.

"Gee, Mom, I just didn't want you to think my undies were bunched up."

For the moment the subject of the extra two tickets were forgotten. Gifts opened and wrapping paper all picked up, the kids were allowed a few hours to catch up on their sleep. Only Chip and Ronin stayed awake long enough to take pictures of each other, sans clothes, with Ronin's new camera. Making sure their photos weren't obscene was tricky, but they were both laughing when they posted them on their Facebook page. Intrigued by the auto focus and timing innovations, the boys began to experiment. They went from silly to dare devilish, French kissing to fellatio; only the kissing made the Facebook. Promises not to post their most intimate scenes, their passionate shots were Christmas presents to both their fans. They strutted around Chip's bedroom with a book on top of their heads or posing like Beyoncé, all to flash their brilliant smiles or cute butts.

"At least I won't get in trouble with Zach," Chip said.

"Who's Zach?" Ronin asked.

"It's a long story."

"I bet it is. Let's talk about the long part."

Ronin wrapped his gangly arms and wrists smartly decorated with assorted bracelets around this boy who he was completely infatuated with. Within hours their two Web sites had more hits than anyone else in the world on this Christmas day.
















Chapter Thirty-Five


With the rebooking of flights to that evening five more plates were set for Christmas dinner. Looper and Zach showed up in suits, and Ronin thought they were both gorgeous. He had a new role model for being gay, so Ronin was making up for lost time.

Candles and a red ribbon lazy Susans were just part of the decorations that made this dining room table come to life. Various crystal glasses, the finest of state dinner ware, were all aligned so perfectly as to make each individual a VIP on this Christmas day.

There wasn't envy in Chip's emotions upon seeing Looper's arm entwined in Zach's. Their handsome features were of a maturity that he and Ronin would achieve with age. For the moment Chip had a boyfriend he could show off, but one that would return to England and leave both of them wanton.

The meal began with a blessing from the president himself, then toasts of Christmas joy and thankfulness. Ronin's mom expressed her appreciation for the hospitality and then Reece gave a cordial thank-you for their gifts. Looper raised his wine glass to President Carver.

"Mr. President, I commend you on your Christmas address to the nation this morning. For those who missed the president's words, they were insightful, elegant, and highly relevant to this day in its celebration of our Lord."

"What did my dad say?" Philly asked.

Looper smiled. Defining a speech in diminutive form wasn't easy.

"I can't give justice to your father's elegancy. He did say that the two inmates who Chip visited were vindicated of murder charges, though one of them is still facing serious time. Your father also wished upon the American people that we all should use this day to reflect upon our religious base, to create a community based on love and acceptance, no matter what your skin color, ethnicity, or sexual preference may be. It is one thing to talk about being profiled or discriminated against, but quite another to express these same negative attitudes upon someone different than ourselves. In other words your father thought it important to celebrate and endorse diversity that honors every human being."

President Carver stood up. "Well said, probably better than I put it. Great job! I'm initiating a human rights campaign that will promote a nationwide awareness where everyone should feel safe at home, school, at work and in their community. A shared commitment to ending bullying, tackling homophobia and ensuring equality across the board. I want my son, a cute, funny, and challenging gay teenager, to know that his parents love him and our life will be bigger and better with Chip being and feeling who he is."

The clinking of glasses had many smiles and total approval. Ronin glanced at his mother.

"I'm gay, Mom, but I guess you already knew that."

His mother nodded and the table had their laughs. Ryan pointed at his chest with his thumb as his way of coming out to his brothers.

President Carver wasn't done. "A toast to the engaged couple."

He raised his glass and pointed toward Looper and Zach. This sort of took Chip by surprise that his father knew.

Alain added, "And to my new head of security, Wenzel McElroy. A promotion well deserved. My children will truly miss your presence."

Chip sat stunned. His smile completely vanished and his heart felt ripped from its cavity. Emotions began to build, then he couldn't help himself. His tears began to well up. In seconds he dismissed himself to quickly depart the room. The First Lady was the first person to realize the repercussions.

"Alain, you didn't tell him?"

"I thought you or Looper did, Mary. Oh my, I had no idea."

Looper began to rise until Zach held his partner down by his forearm.

"Maybe it's best that I step in," Zach said and motioned for the First Lady to stay seated.

Up to Chip's room Zach flew, two steps at a time. He knocked but got no response, so he stepped in. Chip was on his bed, his face buried into his pillow. A hand on the boy's back caused the teen to jerk from any comfort. Chip was sure it was Looper. A glance back proved different.

"What'd you do, draw straws on who was going to humor me?" Chip asked.

He rubbed his eyes and almost found his remark funny.

"It's my new job to torment the First Boy," Zach said.

"I don't need anyone's sympathy. If the jerk doesn't love me anymore, he could have told me himself."

"Come on, kiddo, it's not about love. It's a great opportunity and a major advancement that Wenzel just can't refuse. You should be happy for him, but I also know how close you two were. This was difficult for both of you. I know that Looper loves you far more than just protecting your ass. Actually he cherishes your ass."

Zach had to laugh at his honesty, but he also cracked up Chip. "The man doesn't keep secrets from me."

Chip rode up on his elbow, his eyes red and lips still venting bitterness.

"Great! You've become his mediator. Since when does he lack the guts to face me mano o mano? Now anytime he wishes to tell me something he tells you and, eventually, you'll get back to me. What a cop out!"

Zach grabbed the boy by the shoulders and looked straight into his eyes of the First Boy. Zach saw all the beauty, weaknesses, and strengths that his best friend cherished in this teenager.

"I suppose we can do it that way. To tell you the truth he was the first to leap up but I all but tackled the man. Since I'll be seeing you every day I can be, like, Paul Revere, and run to your room to give you the latest update on Looper."

Chip brushed away his tears. "What do you mean, you'll be seeing me every day?"

"Well, see, I just took this impossible job of protecting the First Boy, and I'll have to come to your room constantly to get advice, or, as my lover has so conveyed, either love or discipline you for some antic that makes you so lovable."

Chip's arms reacted by surrounding Zach's neck. Words of appreciation were hardly needed. They stayed in an embrace for a couple minutes, letting this reality set in. Chip released so he could move nose to nose with his new bodyguard.

"Will you really love me like a bodyguard should? I mean, I guess you don't have to like Looper, but I'd like that if you would. I know you'll getting married, and all, but we both have needs and a little variety keeps a marriage fresh. I read that somewhere. Sometimes a little lovin' really helps keep me in line."

Zach placed his finger across Chip's lips. The boy could be a real chatter box.

"All I know, I was hired to protect Chip Carver's body. I suppose there might be some lovin' in that. Let's play it by ear, okay?"

A quick swoop had Zach on his back, Chip jumped on top, groin to groin. One kiss was more of a test. He glanced down and saw his erection poking from his dress pants.

"Yup, you're the perfect replacement! Only Looper could do that before. Well, maybe, Yuri, Ronin, Justin, and a few others, but this is a good sign, right?"

Zach squeezed this creature above him and reversed their position.

"I see this job is going to be a lot harder than my last."

He pressed his hand downward on this obvious protrusion and against his own, then gave Chip a peck on the nose before he bench pressed himself off the bed. His own erection had equaled this playful teenager.

"Now, about that Christmas dinner."

"I'd love an appetizer," Chip said, his face now aglow with happiness.

Zach sighed. Something he knew he'd be doing for a long time.

"I'm not officially on the clock until January."

Chip threw himself right back at Zach.

"Yeah, my father probably wants me to give you some on-the-job training. We should get started right now. This will also give me enough time to get over Ronin."

The End



Other books by Alan Stroup:

The Age of Dissension

Whispers In An Italian Restaurant


Bring the Heat

The Huckleberry Pirates

Director's Cut

Art of Loyalty

The Hyacinthus Project

Kings Academy

The '39 DiMaggio*

A Time Bomb

The Last Castrati

Laguna Beach

A Blue and Gray Perspective By A Boy Soldier*



*Currently available on or Kindle