TRAVELER
Chapter 233

by CARL DICKSON

Our hope is that every homosexual youth in this country can find a home and someone to love them as they are.
No one deserves to be discriminated against, no matter what their differences from society's norm
.

A tidy quote from chapter 137
"titles belong on books, not people" ©Carl Dickson—2007

Does your mother know you're reading this shit?

Warning: This story is PORNO. I have tried my hand at friction, now I'm trying fiction. This story contains vivid descriptions of sexual activity between men and teen boys.
It contains no truth, partial truth, or half truth. What it does contain is stroking material. If this kind of story turns you off, or offends you, please find something else.
The author does not encourage or condone sex between adults and underage children.

If you are underage, or if this is illegal where you are, then please go away. If you're under 18, Adios come back when it is legal for you to read this smut.
If you lied about your age in order to access this story, remember this is our story. Life doesn't always work out like a story.

A strongly worded suggestion has resulted in this statement.

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

Thus said, this story is copyrighted, ©2005-2012. It is therefore illegal to copy or use any part of this story on any other web site without my written permission.


You may download the CHEROKEE TONT for free at this link. Dowload it, install it, then enjoy seeing tfe TSAIAGI names in this story. This font is included in thfull version Send an e-mail for it .
    Dane moved across the street to BAW's dormitory to be with Luke. After our return to a normal routine after the trip to Camp Christopher Dallas and Zane, Malcolm and Ronnie, Damien and Jan, Evan and Alec, Branden and Vic moved into the new attic rooms at fŗĩęñďş Çłųß. Parking is at a premium at my old house and street parking is almost impossible. The city regulates street parking in neighborhoods surrounding the university. Only two permits are issued for each residence. If the city approved fŗĩęñďş Çłųß as a multiple housing unit then I would have to provide off street parking for the thirty four boys living there.
    The four car garage provided some space, but more parking was needed. Jerry and Mark tore down the garage at their house. It was about to fall down from years of neglect. I paid to have the old garage area's pavement cleaned up and enlarged to provide parking for eight cars plus two down one side of the driveway. Those spaces, coupled with the two city permits for on street parking for both fŗĩęñďş Çłųß, and Jerry's and Mark's house provided eighteen total spaces, more if more of the driveway is utilized.
    Fortunately not all of the boys have cars. Diving to the campus is tenuous at best. The boys usually use their bikes or walk a block over to catch the city bus. When they want to go to the mall or a movie they drive. Most of the boys in fŗĩęñďş Çłųß are solid couples and they share a car. That makes my life a little more simple.
    Insurance for a few hundred underage boys was another hurdle for us to conquer. The state requires 20/15/20 minimum liability coverage. The out of pocket cost for that is astronomical for boy under twenty five years of age. As with most insurance the money for premiums is money thrown away, unless a claim is made. If a claim is made then the premium payments go up—a real catch 22 situation. I gathered all of the boys to me two years ago so that we could discuss our options. If a boy wanted a car then he had to pay cash for it, we found some great deals—cash speaks louder than a good credit rating. We have many other ways of helping each student to build himself a strong credit rating. Automobile financing has many hooks that can hurt those credit ratings.
    Unless a car is financed through a bank or loan company there is no need for collision coverage. Unused collision payments are just money thrown away. If one of my boys has an at fault accident he loses his driving privilege. He must also find the money to repair or replace his own car. But first he must pay damages to the other party involved. The simple solution was to post a cash bond with the state to cover any liability owed to another party. I set up an account of twenty five million dollars and had the bank issue individual one hundred thousand dollar certificates of financial responsibility to the state for each boy, and his partner, with a car registered to him.

    I had never assigned anyone to Mark's old room so that meant that I had six vacant rooms in my house. I also had Cullen's room as well as Jimmy's room, but I was in no rush to place someone in those two rooms. I am the eternal optimist and I really hope that Cullen will spend the summer with us. If so he will need his room. Jimmy's room is so full of his computer equipment that I am almost afraid to disturb it in fear that I will disrupt the entire World Wide Web. One can never tell what that boy genius has conjured up. The vacant rooms made my house feel empty, but there was no immediate need to occupy them. I was happy that I had waited because of events that occurred during a visit to Munedavia later in the spring.

    Jimmy walked into my bedroom before dawn last week. He removed his clothes and got into bed next to me. He leaned across me to kiss Cory then sank his head against my chest and went to sleep. I held him close to me as I felt his tears on my chest. Neither of us spoke, we just lay there in the dark and waited until dawn broke.
    Jimmy hadn't told me what was going on so I didn't pry. Andy told me that Jimmy had called him and asked about a ride home for few days. Andy loves my boys, but there are boys in our family that either of us will go out of our way to help. Jimmy is one of those boys.
    I took the little guys to school and I took Jimmy along with me. I know one restaurant that Jimmy loves so that is where we went for breakfast. He told me that he wasn't hungry. I know what he likes so I ordered that for him. Jimmy pushed his plate around without picking up his fork. I know something that he loves so I ordered him a tall glass of Papaya-Pineapple juice. His eyes lit up when the waitress sat the glass before him. He drank half of the juice in one upturn of the glass then smiled at me.
    He split a biscuit and lathered it with butter then took a bite of his eggs followed by a bite of the biscuit. He looked me in the eye, "Sometimes His Royal Hinney can be such an ass." He put another bite of food into his mouth and returned to staring at his plate. We ate in silence. He wanted to see Tim and Jerry so I gave them a call. I left a voice message for them. Jimmy also wanted to see his old house. I called Betty. She would welcome a visit from the boy and invited us to come right down.
    Betty had a hot apple pie ready when we arrived. She asked us if we wanted cheese or ice cream. Jimmy wanted French vanilla and opted for a slice of cheddar cheese. Both of us proclaimed that we had the best way of eating hot apple pie. We told Betty that she made the best pie in the land. She puffed up and smiled at us. We sat eating pie and drinking coffee until Tim called me.

    There was a bit of excitement in Tim's voice. He had something very special to share with me and Jimmy. He asked if the two of us could come to dinner at his and Jerry's house and he wanted us to come alone, something about 'just the four of us for old time's sake.' He asked me if I would drive down in Traveler©. Of course I accepted. I knew that Jimmy would love to go. I did it up proud when I pulled up to the street curb in front of their house.
    Not wanting to disturb the neighbors too much I agreed to let Jimmy play a stanza of Dixie on the powerful air horns. That was enough to make people come out of their homes to see what was going on. Jimmy and I received many birdie salutes and some colorful metaphors. I really don't believe that it is possible to put those air horns where most of the neighbors were suggesting that they should go. I just smiled and waved at them. Some of them showed true maturity as they threatened to wipe up the street with my ass.
    One brave soul ran at me brandishing a shovel which I simply took away from him and leaned on it. He was so mad that he kept swinging at me. I simply dodged his blows. I even took a run with the shovel when he came at me hard and fast. I put about seven feet between us before I stuck the blade of the shovel to the ground and threw my body into an arching curve. My body was parallel to the ground as I made a one hundred and eighty degree swing about then with a single flying flip, while still airborne, I landed in front of him.
    I pulled my badge case out and flipped it open as I landed. I stared him in the eyes as I said, "Look mister, you are too old to pick a fight with me. I am a trained Federal Agent and I can kill you faster than you can tell me your first name. Two of my sons live in this house and I have come to see them. They always loved this old RV. It means a lot to all four of us." I indicated Jimmy then Tim and Jerry who were standing nearby. "I apologize for the brief bit of noise, but believe me when I say that you will live, it did no harm."
    A crowd of neighbors had gathered to see the action. I heard some of them comment that this was the first time that the old man had been put in his place. Jerry told me that the old man beat up the paperboy for throwing the paper into the old man's flower bed. He said that there was to be a court hearing in two more days. I felt sorry for the old man, he needs help with his anger issues. I really felt sorry for the paperboy and all of the man's other victims.
    Jerry wrapped his long arms around me and hugged me tight. Tim is getting stronger or Jimmy is getting lighter—which I really doubt—but he picked Jimmy up and bear hugged him as the boy's feet kicked at the air for a footing. Once behind the closed door inside their house the kissing began. My pants were opened and fell to the ground. I looked over Jerry's shoulder to see two young men sitting on the sofa watching us. I backed away, but Jerry had a grip on my cock which was becoming very fluffy.
    "You two think that you are cock suckers wait until you get this deep in your throat. Sucking it is very fun, but riding it for an hour or so is like the best thing ever to happen to me, next to Tim. And this little dude, here. Well, I guess he isn't so little anymore. All of that soccer playing has built his body, or do they call it football over there? Anyway Hoover took lessons on major suction from him. The first time Tim and I saw Jimmy he had just had his cherry ass opened to a whole new world and before that night was over all of us knew the pure joy of man sex with a man that knows how to love a boy."

    "Dad, let me introduce you too Earl Markham and Claude Pendergrass…," Tim began before I cut him off.
    "The boys from gator island?"
    "I told you this man is sharp. He never forgets anything. He can recall the smallest detail years later.
    "Yes, these are the two guys that were on that island. They also tried to save me from my dad beating on me. Earl told his dad and Claude told his dad, then Earl's dad told his brother and all three men went over to the bar where my dad hung out and beat the living crap out of him. I guess these two got a few licks, or kicks, in themselves.
    "I always wondered why Earl's dad and his brother cared enough to risk going to jail for me. Earl has finally told me why. Tell him, Earl."
    "'Cause we're cousins. Tim's dad and my dad and my uncle were all brothers and everything. The three of them got into a fight when Tim's dad raped a twelve year old boy when he was sixteen. Tim's dad ran away from home and changed his name. He went to court to make the name change legal just before he married and fathered Tim there.
    "My dad pretended that he didn't know where his brother was, but when I came home and told him about Tim getting all beaten and shit he got madder than I had ever seen him. He wanted to know how I knew Tim and how I knew that he had been beat up. I was never a good liar, my dad could see right through me. I told so many lies as I tried to explain to my dad that he just sat back and watched me. Finally I had to tell him the truth, but I was afraid that he was really going to get mad.
    "I was almost sixteen and Claude and I had been sucking each other's cocks for four years. We had only started to pound each other in the butt for a few months. Dad wanted to know if I liked that. I shook myself to pieces as I told him that I did, but that Claude liked it more than I did. My dad got up and called uncle Cyrus and Mr. Pendergrass and they all came to the house with Claude. Dad made Claude and I sit together in an easy chair and he told me to tell Mr. Pendergrass what I had told him about me and Claude.
    "Claude took my hand and told me that it was okay, that his dad already knew. So I told him how I loved Claude and how I loved to have him do that shit to me, but Claude jumped up and said that he liked it more than me and that he wanted to live with me for the rest of his life.
    "The three men sat there looking at each other then Uncle Cyrus asked us to tell him all about Tim. We told him all about the island and how we all sucked each other and how Tim really liked it and all. Then I told him that I had taken Tim into the boy's restroom and sucked his cock when I saw the bruises on is butt. I told him how I had tried to hug Tim to tell him that I was sorry, but he flinched when I touched his back.
    "I told him that I told Claude about it the next period and that we decided to take Tim to our favorite cum spot and look him over. I said that when we saw how beat up Tim was that we cried with him. Uncle Cyrus wanted to know when Tim was beat up and we told him that Tim had missed three days of school after the stuff with the gator and all. We said that his wounds looked to be about three days old.
    "Dad turned and looked at Mr. Pendergrass. 'I have known that Earl is probably gay since he was almost ten. He is my son and I love him just the way that he is. I figured that it was just a matter of time that these two boys would try it out. I don't know if Claude is gay or just doing his teenaged angst. I know that Earl loves him completely and I will let the two of them work things out on their own.' My dad shocked the hell out of me then.
    "'Earl, you may be queer or not, I don't care. I know that you have a very neat friend in Claude and I hope that the two of you will always remain friends. I believe that you are too old to be, what they say, curious. I think that your relationship goes beyond that. I will not judge. I will only wish you both well.
    "'The world will judge. There are people like our brother that will judge, He has no right to judge. After he raped Finley Moore. Eight or nine boys told Cyrus and me that he forced sex on them. All of them were over thirteen so we didn't say nothing to pa, he would have killed Simon. Simon is sick. He thinks that he can hide what he is doing to Tim behind a bottle and his bigoted attitude. Me and Cyrus knows him better than that. I have good reason to believe that he is molesting young Tim, but I can't prove it.'
    "I think that it is time that we teach him a lesson. All of the men agreed and me and Claude wanted to go see Simon get his. He got it, and bad. He got put in the hospital and all five of us got taken to jail. They had to release me and Claude 'cause we was kids, but our dad's and Uncle Cyrus stayed in jail until about midnight when they came home and told us that the Sheriff hated Simon and he believed the story about him beating Tim. He told my dad that he would like to take Simon deep into the swamp and beat him so bad that he couldn't swim home. But that was just between them."

    All of the time that this story was being told I was sandwiched in between three hot young men on a love seat. Actually Jimmy was in my lap with his legs in Jerry's lap. Tim was rubbing Jimmy's shoulders while Jerry played with his blonde haired legs. I had my arms around Tim's and Jerry's shoulders, a little tighter around Tim's. I felt him shudder from time to time as Earl told his story. I looked into his eyes, but saw no emotions there at all.
    Tim was the next to speak. "Cyrus and Jebuliah are both dead. I didn't know that they were my uncles. I missed out on knowing that I had a family around me because my dad was such an ass hole that only wanted to get off by beating me until I creamed all over his legs and in his hand. Chris, I have never told you all of the things that he did to me. Maybe someday I will. For now I am happy, and sad, with the news that Earl has brought to me. Earl, you tell him, okay?"
    "Well, my dad and Uncle Cyrus inherited my grandfather's oyster beds at Bayou La Batre south of Mobile. The oyster brings big money into the area and it made my family very rich. Grandpa was eighty nine when he got caught in a sudden storm and his boat struck a reef. He went down into the hold to see how bad the hole was when the wind knocked the boat over and caused a big gash in the side. Grandpa was trapped by debris and drowned. The radio was down there and he was talking to the Coast Guard, and we were listening in. He was telling us that the water was rising and that there was no way out 'cause the door was jammed. He was yelling for help. Ten minutes after we last heard his voice the Coast Guard arrived and opened the door. Grandpa was drowned by then. They saved the boat and brought the body home to be buried.
    "Grandpa's wish was that he could meet Tim. He had never seen him. We all knew where he lived, but nobody wanted to go around Simon til he straightened up. We buried grandpa with his favorite picture, an eight by ten of Tim and Jerry getting married. Grandpa was proud to know that his grandson had the balls to stand up and be who he was. He said that he didn't run and try to hide it like his fucking father did.
    "All of us was proud of Tim and Jerry. We all wanted to see them and welcome them to the family, but nobody knew where they was. Cyrus and dad were killed by a flash flood on their way home from Atlanta last winter. Their car was swept off of the road and sunk in the swamp. It wasn't found for three weeks, after the flood waters went down. I own all of the oyster beds, well me and Tim 'cause that is the way that grandpa wanted it and daddy and Cyrus did too.
    "Both our names is on the deed so I been trying to find my cuz and tell him we's rich. I hired a detective in November and he found Tim so I came out here to give him the news myself."

    Tim looked at me. The room remained in total silence. "Are you going to move to Georgia?" I asked him.
    "There is no need. I don't know anything about oyster farming. I would only be in the way down there. Earl knows what to do because he grew up around the business and learned a lot from our grandfather. Jerry and I think that we might drive down there after this semester is finished in June."

    We sat and talked a little before I had to leave to pick up my youngest boys from school. Jerry got in Jimmy's face. He wanted to know what was up with him and Cullen. The boys were inundated with tests as the school year slowly crept to a close. Cullen's class schedule is grueling. He found himself buried in tons of studying to prepare himself. Jimmy's time was not as hectic and he wanted to spend some time with his boyfriend. The two boys argued and Jimmy left. He wanted the security of my house.
    I asked him about his tests. He told us that his first test would be the following Monday. I stared him down. He smiled and said that he would return to school for the tests. I asked Andy for a hop for the boy. Andy had to go to Heathrow for a meeting. He welcomed Jimmy to go along with him and Kyle.

    Okay, so color me weird. I can't take the type of Mexican food that is so prevalent in Tucson. Most of the food served here is made with goat cheese and I am not sure what sort of animal gave up its life for the meat. I am almost certain that it did not moo when it was alive. Even a neigh might be okay, but someone told me one time that the taco meat that they were eating had been named billy and ate tin cans.
    I am more inclined to what is commonly referred to as Tex Mex. It is a blend of Mexican spices and seasonings served with a chilli sauce, for some recipes a little carne is mixed into the sauce. I love cheese enchiladas made with corn tortillas wrapped around a filling of cheddar cheese and chopped onions then smothered in the chilli sauce. Refried beans and a mild Spanish rice on the side make a perfect meal for me. Top that off with a dozen or so hot corn tortillas buttered and slathered with a very hot picanté sauce—made with with fresh tomatoes, onions, cilantro, and jalapenoñ, finely chopped and let to sit in the refrigerator until cold, thus blending the flavors—and I melt like the cheese.
    I was skeptical when I heard that my favorite Tex Mex restaurant had a new 'all you can eat' buffet. My favorite childhood moments usually center on eating at Momicita's on a Friday night with my mother and father. Even as a young teenager I looked forward to having a good meal there.
    I enjoy giving the boys an outing. I can't take all of them out all of the time so I ask the school to select ten boys a day to do something special with me for dinner. I would really like to just eat them, but they get hungry also. None of them were disappointed by the food that we found on the new buffet line at Momicita's. The owner is a sweet lady that is now in her late fifties. She moved to Tucson from Chicago when her Polish born husband contacted asthma. The blond haired Scandinavian woman brought her culinary skills to town and was a success with the snow birds that flock here for the town's famous winter weather. There are several thousand people that have taken up residence in town year round and they were looking for a taste of home themselves. Momicita's satisfied their taste buds.

    Another local restaurant that I enjoy is Papí's Pizza. Their pies are cooked to order in a very hot stone lined oven. The stones were made for Papí by his father in Hong Kong. His is the only pizza shop in town where one can get egg rolls or spring rolls with a side of kimchi to go with the pizza. The kimchi is from a recipe passed down to him by his Korean mother. Ahhhh, the joy of a hot vegetarian pizza with two egg rolls on the side and lots of super hot mustard and soy sauce all washed down with a pot of black tea, served hot, is something to be experienced. The only drawback for me is that Papí's prepare their pies to order and the time lag is not good for a large group of boys.

    Ten boys were all decked out in their finest blue jeans and tee shirts waiting for me to finish a phone call. I had asked that Red be included in the group for a Wednesday night out. All of the boys wanted to eat Mexican food. I thought it a good time to check out the buffet at Momicita's. The buffet included a taco bar, a boy's favorite. I watched each of them as they filled their taco shells with refried beans and salad. One or two of them added about a tablespoon full of the taco meat to their beans. Red went with the full meat taco version that he is used to. He will take sometime to get used to our low meat diet.
    While we were eating my ears perked and I prepared myself to dress a story teller down. When I heard the opening line I was sure that we were about to hear a joke that should never be repeated in a public place or where women and children are nearby.

"There once was a man from Nantucket
Who kept all his dough in a bucket
His daughter name Nan
Ran away with a man
And as for the bucket, Nantucket."


    I breathed a sigh of relief. Most limericks are obscene and I had never heard a clean NANTUCKET limerick before. The boys were moaning. I think that they wanted to hear a dirty joke. I told them that there is a time and a place for off color jokes, but a public restaurant is not right at anytime.

    Red is adjusting to life in the school I included him in our Mexican fiesta night. I talked with him over our dinner and told him the latest developments in his felony case. His mother was glad to have her son out of her house. She hedged when I demanded that she pay five hundred dollars a month for his support, but she relented after a threat of the courts being involved.
    Bull set investigators on the case of assault. Video files were located showing that Red was the subject of bullying and assault throughout the day. Eight witness testified that the incident in the locker room was instigated by the bully, not by Red. The judge dismissed all charges against Red and ordered that the bully be charged. The bully had appeared in court that morning and pled guilty. He was sentenced to house arrest for the summer.
    I asked Red how he would feel about the bully attending school at BAW in the fall. He looked at me and told me that he would be okay with that as long as there was no more of the bully's previous actions. I assured him that should that happen then I would bring charges against the boy that he would not be able to plead out of.

    I was quietly talking to Red when I heard a new word. "I'm gonna disembangle him, I might even take his family jewels as well." I had to listen to learn the current phrase's meaning. It was simple. "I gave that ass hole an index finger ring, engraved with all of my love. He wears one of a pair of diamond studs in his ear. The big kicker… I paid almost five hundred dollars for that chain that he wears around his neck. I would like to hang him with it, but it is too valuable."
    "So if you cut off his nuts what will you do with them?"
    "I'll hang them from the mirror of his classic RAM Charger so that everyone can see how tiny they are." Listening can get more answers to questions than digging. as the two boys continued on it became plain that there was a lover's spat at the root of this philippic. It is funny how that mid-teenage boys can have so many problems with their love lives. The whole matter was minor. I knew that the boy with me needed to vent. I also knew that after he cooled down then everything would go back to normal. Boys are resilient. One can almost stretch a boy over a football field and he will spring back to normal as soon as the tension is released.

    I love Andy to pieces. I love Andy's pieces, but I am serious here. My association with the man has brought about many major changes in my life. Before Andy and I got involved, business wise, I had Charley to guide me and take care of the daily operations that surround a young billionaire. I never thought about all of the details that go on in the background. Carl had given Andy a complete education in business management and Andy showed me a need that I didn't know that I had.
    Foss International is diversified in ways that I can not explain in a few words. Andy has an international switch board, if you will. His people monitor all telephone traffic anywhere on the globe with computer aids that search for keywords, such as terrorist, bombs, you know, the things that might be a threat to the public safety. If you can get your mind around it that switchboard, deep in a cave in New York, or deeper still in a cave in Arkansas, monitors several billion calls a second. They also monitor internet activity from these locations.
    A flesh and blood person does not listen in to all of these calls. There are no permanent records saved of innocent calls. The only information that is saved is from the one tenth of one one hundredth percent of the calls that pose information worth digging into. A suspicious call is saved to a digital recording device as red lights flash on an operator's monitoring board. I would like to tell you about that board, but I am afraid that you don't have the security clearance to know that much. Just picture a small creature surrounded by monitors with keyboards hanging from mounts in the ceiling. He has a main keyboard in front of him and his main system monitor, a twenty nine inch LCD beauty, sets at the center of his switchboard console.
    Once the red light appears on an operator's monitor he goes into action. As more is learned about the suspicious call he has the authority to act. He can notify a supervisor to assist him, or in some cases he must notify the local law enforcement agency of an impending threat while the supervisor ambles his fat ass over to see what is happening.
    That is a true scenario. Andy showed me video recordings that are kept from every site he owns. These videos only view the general area and not the individual stations about the room. When a red code is detected by the computer system a rotating red light, set high on the wall for everyone to see, begins to flash. That is supposed to alert a supervisor to be ready to go to a switchboard location when needed.
    I had commented on the grossness of one supervisor in a site that I frequent often. Philippic was a young and handsome homosexual in his youth. Andy was impressed with his computer skills and his ability to manage people. Over the past five years the man, now forty, has spread out, so to speak. His clothing requires the skills of Omar the tent maker. There is more cloth in one pair of the man's pants than in ten pairs of pants that my boys wear.
    Anyway, he is gross. He has developed an aromatic aroma that smells somewhat like stale sweat and old urine. He covers that up with one of the most powerful body sprays on the market. The resulting smell would kill a skunk at one hundred paces. He comes to work each morning carrying two boxes of twenty four donuts under his arm. He buys the donuts in town before boarding for a two hour drive on a bus with all of the windows blacked out, except for the windshield. The driver needs to know where he is going, right? By the time that he gets to his work place six or seven of the donuts have been devoured. There are always bits of the sugar glaze on his rotund belly and chest.
    The video that Andy shared with me had caught this man feeding donuts to a sweet young and hung as they tried to hide in a dark corner. The supervisor had his hand inside the younger man's pants and from his movements it was rather easy to imagine what was going on. The younger man pointed to the flashing, rotating light. He seemed to have lost all interests in the fondling of his parts. The supervisor waved it off and tried to lick the sugar off of the mouth and chin of the younger man.
    Let me set something straight here, there is nothing straight about 99.999% of the people that work for FI—women receptionists not included, although some of them have girlfriends. The only problem that Andy and I had with the supervisor and his sortie with the younger man was the time and place. We don't allow such actions while on the job, especially one as critical as those two men have.
    Andy had an audio feed of activities on the floor at the time. A frantic call came on loud and strong, "I need a supervisor over here. We have a class two red light in progress. Sexy, where are you?" Yeah, the fat man went by the nic of Sexy. I found him to be anything but sexy. He tried to make a pass at me before he learned who I am. No more about that here.
    The young man moved away as he zipped up his pants and darted off the screen. Sexy took his wireless headset from around his neck and slipped it into place on his ears as the frantic call went out. He sauntered over to his desk to gather a sixteen ounce can of Coke and two donuts. He was stuffing one of those into his face as he entered the operator's enclosed domain.
    "Yeah, yeah, what's so fucking important? I am a busy man, you know. I was involved in something of major importance." The audio changed to the feed from the operator's console into the man's headset. The cameras can't capture images of the individual consoles so we don't have any record of the physical reaction that passed Sexy's face. We can only assume from what he said that he was ready to get involved in the call.
    It turned out that the call was very important. The local police were notified and within an hour they offered a semi-final report. They had detained four individuals along with enough explosives to bring down a very large building. The day was saved, but not by Sexy. The operator received a job well done and a pat on the back for his quick action. Sexy was dismissed. The young man received a write up in his personnel file.

    Another service that this division offers is acting as my personal receptionist and assistant. I receive dozens of phone calls daily wanting money or favors. I can't begin to figure out why. However, I do get a fair share of legitimate calls through them as well. One call set my mind to grandiose plans for at least one school in every nation on earth. Not realistic. The call that had come in was something new to me and one that I never thought that I would receive.
    I have mentioned before that I keep a private, luxury office and an apartment in a large bank building in downtown Tucson, AZ. A meeting was set for nine o'clock on a Monday morning. I asked Ugitsiha to serve as my receptionist to greet my visitors. At two minutes before nine two men entered and presented their business cards. I have learned from Cullen to learn about different cultures and to use that information in my daily dealings. Ugitsiha had a strong black tea brewing. She offered the men a refreshment then served them with the expensive silver tea service that Sagi had received as a Christmas present from my sister.
    The men seemed to be impressed with the tea service, they nattered amongst themselves for a full minute. I know, I was watching them from my desk on the CCTV system. Andy's interpreters were also watching and feeding me the translation of what was being said. They were simply admiring the silver service and speculating on its age. Both men guessed it to be over one hundred years old. Actually it is almost two hundred years old and it was made in India for the sitting King of Munedavia; El's great, great, great grandfather.
    At one second to nine I flashed a light on Ugitsiha's desk. She rose as she told the men that they could enter. She moved to the end of her desk and slightly bowed as the men passed her. I electronically opened the wide double doors into my office so I saw them do the traditional Hindu greeting with a half bow and hand gestures that I really didn't understand. My translator told me that he would give me all of the information that I wanted later. For now he was going to give me all of the information that I needed.
    I looked up from my desk where I was staring at a sheet of paper and holding a gold pen in my right hand. I laid the pen on the desk and rose to greet my guests. Both of them bowed and did their mudrā, I shook their hands and introduced my self before I directed them to large stuffed chairs that sat back away from my desk some six feet. I returned to my seat and picked up the blank piece of paper and slipped it into my empty desk drawer.
    I received a message from dispatch so I looked at the two men. "Welcome to Tucson. I hope that everything is going as you have planned. Would you care for some more tea?"
    "That would be fine," one of the men said.
    "I am Rawla Rouvanjit. If I could I would like a cup of coffee." The other man looked displeased but said nothing. I waved the back of my hand toward the double doors and they opened. I was just a few seconds premature, but my guests could not see what I saw. An FI runner was using a tissue to remove pastries from a paper bag and place them on a silver platter on the serving tray that Ugitsiha held. She looked up at me and smiled.
    When she had all of the pastries arranged to her satisfaction she stood tall and entered my office, the FI messenger quietly slipped away. Ugitsiha placed her tray on the low table sat before the men, "Tea gentlemen?" The first man told her yes. She served as mother as she poured the tea. "One lump or two?" She made me smile. I didn't know that there was so much culture in my bright Daylight.
    The other man had indicated that he wanted coffee. Ugitsiha walked over to my coffee bar and opened a cabinet door to retrieve a porcelain china cup and saucer. She placed a lace like paper doily on the saucer then set the cup onto the saucer before she poured coffee into it for him. She placed the cup on the low table and asked, "Sugar, cream?" He wanted sugar, no cream. I had no cream in the office and I wasn't sure if there was a carton of milk in the apartment next door.
    Ugitsiha lifted the small platter of pastries and offered them to the men. They seemed to be excited about one of the varieties offered to them. Using small tongs she place the men's choices onto a serving plate then sat a plate before each man. She looked at me and smiled, "What will Sir have?"
    I mumbled, "All," to her. She prepared a serving plate for me with one of each of the pastries placed on it then sat it before me. She looked into my eyes, "af'YR–I'm hungry–I told her in Tsalagi."
    "'Gq'T–I see," she responded in kind. She turned to the coffee maker and filled my sixteen ounce mug to the top with the hot liquid that I needed to bring my nerves together. I don't know why the two men before me filled me with so much apprehension. I could sense that something was in store for me. Something that would be different.
    I took a small bite of a pastry that was covered in sesame seeds, it is called Handvo—pronounced ahn-d-vo with a silent 'h'. It comes from the north central Indian state of Gujărāt. Handvo flour is usually a blend of rice, chana dahl—a preparation of pulses (dried lentils, peas or beans) which have been stripped of their outer hulls and split—and toor dahl or pigeon pea. After the batter ferments temper it with spices, and then finally bake it. Balancing flavors in this dish is the key. It was excellent. It was different, not the sweet, sugary cakes that I am used to being served with tea or coffee. I tried the other three varieties and found that I could get used to them. They seemed a bit heavy, but the interpreter in my ear was telling me that they were made with ground peas and beans instead of wheat flour. Hey, this could be a meal in itself. I sat back in my chair with my cup of coffee in hand and looked at my guests, it was their turn to speak.
        (I hope that all of you are not bored with all of the descriptions and extra wording. I have been told that my use of the English language is no better than a failing eighth grader. Ouch.)
    "Forgive me, I believe that your title is SIR Dickson?" He bowed his head and did his mudrā. "As I stated at the begin of our…meeting," he was having problems finding the English words, his partner was helping him. "my name is Rawla Rouvanjit. You might call me Rawla for easier to say in English. You may tell that I not taught in English school like most boys in India, so my talk not so well."
    I assured him that he was doing well. I mentioned that my receptionist that took his call told me that he wanted to talk to me about creating a school for Hindu boys. He looked at me then passed me a picture of a statue of a youth and a man in a compromising position. "Is this offense you?" I told him that I was not offended by the picture or of the subject that the picture suggested.
    "We are from Bangladesh…" I started and he looked at me with expectation on his face.
    I settled back into my seat as I composed myself. I had been receiving video feeds for the past fifteen minutes about India and its various regions. "I must apologize to you. My receptionist told me that you were from India. It makes no difference, it is just that I know so little about southeast Asia…I am…Please continue. I ask you to forgive me my interruption."
    Again with the mudrā. "No thing to forgive. My family has been in Bangladesh for hundreds of years. We grow black tea and yellow mustard for export. We accepted our new boundaries that the British made when they divided India along religious regions in 1947, when the region became East Pakistan. All was well for many years and my family prospered. When war came between west Pakistan and East Pakistan in 1997 my youngest brother fled with his new wife to Kolkata, you may know it by the old name of Calcutta, in West Bengal. It is here that he has lived and raised many sons and daughters.
    "The morning of February 12 my namesake nephew, Rawla, a 14 year old boy, burst out of the shower to show his mother his first sprouts of armpit hair. A fun-loving teenager who listened to Beethoven, loved soccer and enjoyed his mother's pasta carbonara, Rawla was by all accounts a normal kid. But that evening after his classes, Rawla, the boy who had been so excited about growing up that morning, hanged himself. Rawla's parents placed the blame for his suicide squarely on his school and their practice of corporal punishment. Despite an almost decade long federal ban on the disciplinary tool, Rawla's headmaster had caned the boy for skipping class only four days earlier."
    "After finding his son's journal my brother, Ajay Rawla, filed a report with the police against the headmaster and three teachers. My nephew's private diary documents, in heart-breaking detail, the hardships he faced at school. 'Do not take me to school. There is too much pulling and tugging, it hurts,' he wrote. Ajay says teachers continuously victimized his son. "He was slapped for whistling in class once. When the fact was that he couldn't whistle," Ajay says he had earlier withdrawn Rouvanjit's older brother after teachers had hit him as well. "If only I had taken Rouvanjit off too at that time, he would be alive today," he says. Plagiarized! (Sometimes a news story is just too good to pass over)
    "Recently, the New Delhi High Court had ruled that consensual anal sex was not a punishable offence. The Court had only repealed an obsolete law. The Leftists—obsessed as they are with minority rights—are now celebrating this act as they believe that the sexual minorities are now at par with sexual majority.
    "Anyway, this gives me the opportunity to spell out the Hindu view of sex vis-a-vis LGBT.
    "Per se, Hindus view sex as highly personal. It differs from person to person. For instance, Hindus worship all types of gods. Some are staunch bachelors like Hanuman and Ayyappa. Some are monogamous like Ram. Some others are polygamous playboys like Krishna and Indra. Maybe, the Hindu Gods had a premonition of relativity theory much before Einstein popularized it.
    "Anyway, sex is personal for Hindus. If you decide to have sex with one or many or none, it is your personal affair. No interference. It is Vyakti Dharma (individual liberty). That is why it is better to restrict sex to bed room — no open sex at least not in the presence of children.
    "To enjoy sex, there is a do-it-yourself manual in the form of Kama Sutra and even Vigyan Bhairava Tantra. Tantra also combines divine meditation with sex. Or rather tantra suggests sublimation of lust into love. There are techniques for it. For those who are interested in this rare mix of lust and love, tantric sex opens the route. Both tantra and kamasutra have practical techniques for such an end — puritans may well abstain from such practices.
    "The Sanskrit word "Kama" stands not just for sex. It also means material desires at large. Sex is just a part of our desires which needs to be transcended — that is a largely accepted Hindu view. Sublimation of sex makes Nara (man) Narayana (divine).
    "Though Hindus have divergent views on this issue, it must be said that the Hindu society has a rather disparaging view of homosexuality. The proponents of ISKCON say that homosexuals have low energy levels which have declined below the Muladhara chakra. They say that homosexuality is the heights of human decline and homosexuals are bound to take birth as animals in their next lives.
    " Even Osho and other Sanyasis aver that homosexuality is the heights of perversion and makes spirituality that much more difficult.
    "However, present Gurus like Sri Sri have welcomed homosexuals into their fold as they seem to be hooked by the modern idea that homosexuality is in the genes. Whether in the genes or not, Hindus detest homosexuals. That is a harsh fact. Hindus largely view homosexuals as a case of genetic defect.
    "Currently, the issue of homosexuality within Hinduism is controversial, especially amongst Hindus in countries where homosexuality is generally accepted. Hindu views of homosexuality are varying and diverse, in part because the accepted Hindu religious texts do not explicitly mention homosexuality.
    "Homosexuality is also a complex matter in Hinduism because of the many types of religious life. In general, "twice-born" Hindus are prohibited from homosexual acts (maithunam pumsi), such as in Manusmrti 11:174, which mentions both men and women.
    "On the other hand, the famous Kama Sutra states that homosexual sex "is to be engaged in and enjoyed for its own sake as one of the arts." In general, then, the Hindu evaluation of homosexuality depends heavily on the context." Plagiarized!.…This web site appears to have been taken down.

    The three of us discussed my role in a school in their country. There are many English speaking schools in their area, but a the disciplinary actions of the faculty does serious harm to boys struggling with their individuality. I agreed to help to establish a school for gay youth and to oversee the curriculum, but I told them that I could not take a more personal interest in the day to day activities. They understood. I was invited to visit Bangladesh at the end of the summer.

So there you have it. Is your friction enhanced by my fiction?
Tell me about it at fisherman@iname.com
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