Date: Mon, 10 Nov 2008 00:41:45 -0800 (PST) From: Mark Arbour Subject: Chronicles of an Academic Predator - Chapter 25 CHRONICLES OF AN ACADEMIC PREDATOR Before you read this story, there are a few things you should consider: 1. It contains graphic descriptions of sex between men. In some cases, these depictions may get kinky, and include borderline S&M. 2. It is set in the early 1960s, an era before the Civil Rights Act of 1964 when segregation and discrimination were the norm. African Americans were referred to as Negroes or Coloreds, although the "N" word was offensive then as it is now. I have retained the language of the era because it reminds me how far we have come on race relations. 3. Be aware that the effects of inflation have been profound. A good rule of thumb is to consider that $1 in 1962 is probably similar to $10 in 2008. So just add a zero at the end of any number. 4. Some authors are good enough to create a mood through their words. I need help, so I'll be posted recommended musical selections throughout the story. CHAPTER 25 Musical Recommendation: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CYuYworSjWA "Two Lovers", by Mary Wells November 22, 1962 I went to bed early and waited and waited and waited. I finally convinced myself that Jeff wasn't coming, which was no mean feat since he always does what he says he's going to do. I worked myself up into a panic, and then forced myself to calm down. This was one of the most important conversations of my life. It was probably my only chance to save my friendship with Jeff. I planned and re-planned what I was going to say. I thought about what I should wear. Wearing nothing would be too slutty, fully dressed would be too much. I finally settled on boxers and a t-shirt. About midnight I heard the door slide open and my heart leaped with anticipation. I looked over to the window and saw Jeff's large shape emerge. The room was dark except for the moonlight that shone through the windows. He came over and sat on the bed, not next to me, but still he sat on the bed. I was grasping at straws, trying to find positive signs. "Sorry I'm late," he said with his deep melodic voice. "I ended up hanging out with some people from school." "It's no problem. Thanks for coming to see me." Suddenly, now that he was here, I was tongue tied. "So what do you want to talk about?" he asked. There was a degree of resignation in his voice, telling me that he didn't want to have this conversation, but he felt obligated to. "I'm sorry. I planned out everything I wanted to say to you, but now that you're here in front of me, I find I'm speechless." He smiled at me. "Relax JP. Just tell me what you want to say." His voice, so calming, was like a handle the turned on the faucet. I went over to him and dropped to my knees in between his and grabbed both of his hands. "I'm so sorry, so sorry, that I hurt you. You are so important to me, and it kills me to think of the pain I caused you, and to know that there's nothing I can do about it." I felt my tears start to flow. Shit. I'm being such a pussy. "You are a great friend, a great guy, and I love you. There, I said it. I love you. What can I do to repair the damage I caused? How can I make things right between us?" I just looked at him, begging him for something, anything. He lay down on the bed and pulled me up to him so I was lying on his chest and stroked my hair and back while I bawled my eyes out. Feeling him there, feeling his strength, warmth, and calmness, reminded me of what I'd given up. "JP, I really really loved you. I had fallen hook, line, and sinker. And I knew there was someone else. But I always figured that you loved me too, and that when push came to shove, you'd pick me. But you didn't." I looked up at him and saw the tears in his eyes too. "It hurt me so bad. It hurt me so bad I almost thought about moving back home so my dad could beat the shit out of me and make the pain physical, not emotional." I was about to freak out but he stopped me. "But I'm smarter than that, so don't worry." I sighed with relief. "So gradually, I've worked hard to get over you. I've even started dating someone, this really nice girl named Carol. I'm finally to the point where I don't think about you all the time, where I don't cry myself to sleep at night, where I don't feel the hate and anger toward you that comes with it." "Do you love her?" I asked. If you had reached in and pulled out my intestines and cut them up in pieces in front of me, you couldn't have caused me more pain than this. "No, JP, I don't. But I'm hoping that with time I will, or I will find someone to love. It feels good to be in love, but it's horrible to lose it." "So I guess this means you won't be able to forgive me? That you and me, we're over?" I knew the answer before I asked. But without this final thrust of the knife, I'd never be able to move on. "I don't hate you JP, and there's nothing to forgive. Yes you hurt me, but I know you didn't mean to. I know that, in your own way, you love me. But you don't love only me, and that's what I can't deal with. And we both know that, if you had to make the same choice again, you would." We just lay there, but this time the silence wasn't golden, it was just a forum for sadness. "So to answer your question," he said, "there's nothing to forgive, but there isn't any more "us". I'd like to be your friend, and maybe that can happen, but seeing you just reopens those old wounds. You need to give me some time and some space." I looked up at him and grabbed his head, pulled him to me, and kissed him. At first he didn't respond, but then he did, with a passion. In a second, he was on top of me and I wrapped myself around him, using the physical contact to brush away the pain. Then he stopped and pushed himself away. "No, I can't do this," and he got up to leave. "Jeff," I called, and he turned around. "I'll respect your wishes, but you know that you still love me, and I still love you. We were meant to be together, and someday, somehow, we will be." "You may be right JP. But that someday isn't today." And with that, he left. November 23, 1962 I was determined to have a better day today than yesterday, and it started from the minute I woke up. Despite my devastating conversation with Jeff, I felt better. At least I knew what was going on, at least I knew how he felt, and despite all the shit that happened, despite what he said, I know he still loved me. In essence, I'd traded uncertainty at the beginning of the day yesterday for devastation, realization, and now I was left with one thing and one thing only: hope. And hope is a powerful thing. Despite that, I really didn't want to stick around here. I felt trapped, and out of my element. I decided to see if I could finagle a way home tomorrow. Apparently Fritz had gone home with the Schluters and was hanging out with Stefan. That made me smile. I'd lay odds Stefan had gotten Fritz to fuck him. The first call I made was to Tonto. She tracked Fritz down for me. "I'm sorry I left you there..." he started. I interrupted him. "It's no big deal. I'm glad you did. Listen, when is your leave up?" He paused for a minute and I heard him rustling through some papers. "I have to catch a train Sunday night." "If you have to catch a train on Sunday, we'll have to leave tomorrow." He hesitated. "Well, it's not till Sunday night, so we could probably leave in the morning." No way. I was getting the fuck out of here. "We can't take that chance. We leave tomorrow after we wake up. I gotta run. See you later tonight." And with that I hung up, leaving him in Stefan's fiendish hands. I found my parents eating breakfast. They were both happy to see me until I told them I was leaving tomorrow. I could see the disappointment on their faces, but they'd just have to live with it. "Dad, I need to run an errand. Think you could drive me?" I asked That caught him off guard. But he was off today, couldn't work even if he wanted to. "Sure. Let me get my coat." I winked at my mother, as if to tell her that we were going to spend some quality father/son time. "So where are we off to?" he asked me as we drove down Skyline. "The Chevy dealer. I want one of those new Corvettes." He shrugged. "Yours is still pretty new." "Yeah, but the new model is the end Dad. Have you seen it? It even has a split window in the back." That piqued his interest. The dealer only had one in stock, and it was loaded. Good. My father was as excited about it as I was, he's a car guy. We managed to pry the car out of the hands of the dealer by paying full sticker, something that irritated my father, but he let it pass soon enough. It had the F1 engine, so when I started it up at just growled like a tiger. Inside, the leather interior made it feel almost European, and it had been equipped with a 36 gallon fuel tank so I'd be able to drive straight through to Chicago without stopping for gas. Best of all it had a 4 speed manual transmission, which was great because my other car was an automatic and I was getting sick of it. Sebring Silver was the color, and even that cost extra. I didn't care. I fell in love with it immediately. My father headed home while I went over to the Schluters to pick up Fritz. I had to make a quick stop on the way to get a birthday card for Jeff, but that didn't take long. I thought Fritz was going to cream his pants when he saw the new car. "We'll be riding home in style for sure," he said with one of his goofy voices. Stefan ogled him while he ogled the car. I looked at him and raised my eyebrows as if to question him. He just smiled and shrugged his shoulders. Yeah, the little shit had nailed him. I went in to say goodbye to Tonto, then stopped by to hug Stefan. He whispered in my ear. "Thanks for the boy toy. I'm so excited to see who you bring me next time." I laughed and slapped his back. Laying in bed that night I decided that I did have a better day. I thought about sneaking into the guest room to fuck around with Fritz, but my slutty ways had been partially responsible for my problems. I stripped down and got in bed, put my hands behind my head, and tried to ponder what to do with my future. Jeff was right. I would have made the same choice. Andre would always claim priority; he'd always be the number one guy in my life. The connection was too deep, and the bond too strong. It was unfair to lead someone like Jeff on. I was going to have to make sure that, in the future, I limited my sexual release to encounters with no emotional attachments. I couldn't risk doing this again. I couldn't risk hurting someone like that again. I heard the window slide and wondered who it could be. I smiled to myself when I realized that I'm such a slut it could be Sammy, Fritz, or even Stefan. He could drive now. But it wasn't any of them. It was Jeff. My heart jumped into my throat. "You awake?" he asked. "Yep," I said. "Can I stay with you tonight?" he asked. "I always have room in my bed for you," I joked. He snaughed. I heard his clothes falling to the floor and felt him climb into bed and snuggle up behind me. "I was so strong last night, but I just can't stand to be near you, and not be with you," he whispered in my ear. "So I thought maybe we could spend your last night here together?" I felt his body curve into mine, and I felt his soft skin, that soft layer of fat that cushioned his hard body, and his hard cock probing between my ass cheeks. "I'd spend my life with you if I could," I murmured. I reached for the Vaseline and greased my hole, and his pole. He entered me gently, and slowly. He wasn't fucking me; he was making love to me. Then he started whispering in my ear, driving me crazy with his words. "Oh baby, I missed you so much. I dream about being inside you, feeling you wrapped around my cock. I still think about you every time I jack off. Every load I shoot, I imagine I'm shooting it in you." His cock was hitting my spot, his hand was working my dick, and his words were healing my psyche. I melted completely into him, and it felt great. When we came, we came together. It wasn't like the raw orgasm I'd had with Fritz a few days ago. When I shot, it felt like I wasn't ejaculating, it felt like I was absorbing him, absorbing Jeff inside me. His essence, his love, him. Afterwards, he got up to leave but I stopped him. "Stay with me. Sex with you is great, like no other, but I like being with you best of all." He smiled at me, a big smile, and lay down on his back, letting me snuggle up to my big teddy bear. I knew it was only temporary. I knew in a few hours, he'd be gone. But for right now, he was mine, and I was his. November 24, 1962 Jeff was gone when I woke up, and his absence made me sad. Still, he'd come to see me, we'd made love. He still loved me. There was hope. I got up, got ready, and finished wrapping his birthday present, putting a big red bow on the package. I gave it to my mother and told her not to give it to him until after I left so I didn't have to argue about it. She looked at me strangely, but agreed. Inside, he'd find three things. The keys to my old Corvette, the title signed over to him, and a letter: Dear Jeff, When you open this and realize that I've given you my old Corvette, the first thing you'll want to do is argue with me. You'll refuse to take it, you'll tell me that I can't buy you or your love, and you'll adamantly deny my generosity. So to outfox you, I've arranged for you to get this after I left. Pretty sneaky huh? Seriously, I'm not trying to buy your love. You've proven to me that I already have it. It may have some dents and dings, but it's still there, and we both know it. And I'm not trying to buy you back into my life. You know that I'm there for you, with all my imperfections, and my divided loyalties, whenever you want me. What I am doing is sharing something that I loved, with someone that I still love. You've done so much for me, whether it's helping me move and decorate my apartment, making me feel an ecstasy I never thought possible, or simply grounding me emotionally with your love and warmth, that this is my small way of reminding you of me every day. I'm not binding you to me. If you feel the need to move on and date other people, I won't stop you, or try to stop you. Your happiness means more to me than my own. And if you feel the need to sell the Corvette and buy something else, that's OK too. Just know that no matter where you go and where you are, I will always love you, even if that love can only be expressed as friendship. Love, JP We got packed up by noon and headed out. I loved my new car. The handling, the power, everything about it was just incredible. I let Fritz drive for awhile too, and he really got into it. Fritz was goofy as ever and I ended up laughing most of the way home. I also gave him some shit about Stefan. "So did you like my cousin?" I prodded. He blushed a little and got uncomfortable. "He's a good kid." That was pretty noncommittal. "Oh yeah. How good?" Now he was really squirming. He steeled himself, put on his game face and responded. "Damn good, but not as good as you." "You should go into politics Mr. Charmer," I countered, and we both laughed it off. Stefan is such a little slut, like I'm one to talk, but it's hard not to like him. The evening found us home, safe and sound, sitting around the condo drinking beers with Jason. He seemed different somehow, a little colder, a little tougher. I'd have to find out what happened to him later. But in the meantime, the three of us hung out and just had a good time, drank a bunch of beer, and got hammered. Sober me had planned to spend a sexless night with Fritz, but drunk me let him fuck me like a two dollar whore. What a contrast from Jeff. Jeff satisfied me on so many levels, while Fritz just drained my balls. Not that it wasn't fun. Besides, he said I was a better fuck than Stefan, and that won him a freebie or two. November 25, 1962 Fritz told me that he wanted to go down and see his family before he left, so we bid him farewell in the morning. He'd been a fun, cheerful house guest, but his link with Andre had made dealing with Jeff a little more difficult for my psyche. How ironic that I'd gone from no love in my life, to two great guys at the same time. I guess I was lucky that both were miles away. Then I reminded myself that I'd made my choice, and Jeff wasn't my second fiddle that I could just pull out and play. The more I thought about that, the more I realized why he was hurt so bad by my decision. My emotions were so frayed that I had to really work to compose a letter to Andre for Fritz to take back. I was failing my two guys on all fronts. Jason and I were left in the condo, back to our routine. His demeanor was still different. Something had happened to him when he went home. I'd tried to pry it out of him, but he wasn't talking. In the end, we just settled back down to our routine. December 21, 1962 If the last day before Thanksgiving break was busy, that was nothing compared to the last day of the semester. This time, Jason couldn't handle everything. I had to hear the begging, the cajoling, the angling, and all the sorry stories of students hoping to drive up their grades. The good news is that we'd been able to make sure all but two people passed the class, and out of 150 students I only had to give out five "D"s. None of those were to students affiliated with the athletic department, not because we gave them special favors, but because I'd kept a tight relationship with the coaches. It worked very well, and Jason and I adopted it as a model for next year. Still, the whining continued. Sitting in front of me was a pretty young girl, a brunette with huge tits. She was basically throwing her body at me hoping to move from a B to a B+. I laughed inside. I wanted to say "Honey, I get my fruit from a different produce stand," but I was polite instead. She was stuck with her "B". The day wound down, until at 3pm I closed my office door. Jason and I went through the grading sheets to make sure there were no mistakes, and I prepared the final list for submission to the registrar. There was a knock on my door. Jason and I looked at each other, and he got up to open the door. It was Annie. "Dr. Crampton, you have a visitor." She saw me start to complain. "It's another military man." That got me excited. Maybe this time it was Andre! Maybe he got leave for Christmas. Or if not, maybe it was another one of his troop with another uncensored letter! "Please show him in Annie." Jason got up to leave but I motioned him to stay. An older man emerged behind Annie, this one an officer. "Dr. Crampton, my name is Major Chalmers and I'm with the US Army Reserve." I shook his hand. This was odd. Why would Andre send me a Major? "Nice to meet you Major. This is my assistant, Jason Strubbe." They shook hands. "Please have a seat. What can I do for you today?" The major was incredibly uncomfortable. Jason picked up on it too. "Dr. Crampton, you are listed as the next of kin for Lieutenant Andre Clerreault." I nodded. "I have the unfortunate responsibility to inform you that Lt. Clerreault was killed last week in a small village some 75 miles north of Saigon. I'm so sorry for your loss. You should know that Lt. Clerreault died quite bravely, sacrificing himself to save other members of his platoon. He'll undoubtedly be awarded a posthumous medal. He was a true patriot." Musical Recommendation: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0LoBwkVLVKU "Blowin in the Wind", by Peter, Paul, and Mary My world fell out beneath me. I felt like you do when you're on a roller coaster and you go down that first hill. Only the drop wasn't ending. I couldn't speak. I couldn't move. I couldn't think. I couldn't feel. I heard Jason intervene for me. "I know this must be a very hard duty Major. Thank you for coming in person. If we have questions, is there a way to contact you?" Then the major was gone. And so was Andre. I sat there in a daze. I was aware that Jason was staring at me. "JP, why don't we get out of here? Let's go home. Come on, I'll drive." I just followed him dumbly. The secretaries stared at me as he led me out. I didn't care. Andre was gone. Andre was dead. DEAD!?! Jason hurried me to the car, sensing my mood change. I felt the leather against my back, cold and unyielding in this weather. The car started and it was moving. DEAD! He was DEAD! This was horrible. But I couldn't comprehend it. Jason dragged me into the condo and sat me down on the couch. He got us each a beer and sat next to me. The last time I'd spent with Andre had been here, here in this condo. I looked at the couch and remembered how he'd bent me over it and penetrated me forcefully. How even though the sex was aggressive, it was full of love. I'd never see him again. I'd lost him. And then it hit me. I screamed. Screamed at the top of my lungs. Screamed with sadness, then with fury. The fucking army had taken him away, sent him to Vietnam which any thinking person could see was a total fucking mess, and then they'd mismanaged things so badly that he ended up dead. My anchor. My soul mate. Dead. I was alone in the world. Alone and adrift. Then came the tears and sobs. Jason was there. His scrawny shoulders growing with the crisis. He held me tight, letting me sob and sob and sob. Finally I could handle no more, and he put me to bed. But I didn't sleep. I just laid there. Thinking about Andre. Remembering him and our time together. Sharing the apartment in Princeton, going to Paris and New York. New York where we first made love and Chicago where we'd been a real couple, if for only a few days at a time. The tears wouldn't stop. And then came the pain. The horrible pain. The pain of knowing that he was gone forever. The pain of losing his smile, his jokes, his friendship; I'd never know those again. They'd live forever in my memory, but never here in this world. I doubled over and went fetal. I was conscious that Jason looked in on me several times. I was aware that he came in and held me. I was aware that he was worried. I didn't care. Life wasn't worth living. My soul mate was dead. I might as well be too. December 22, 1962 It was Jason who brought me out of my grief coma. He came into my room and sat on my bed. "JP, tell me about Andre." I looked up at him and, amid tears, I told Jason about Andre. More importantly, I told him about us. I told him about the first time I'd blown Andre, about the first time he made love to me, about our visits. Jason unwittingly, or maybe cleverly, made me remember the Andre that I knew and loved. He made me remember the good times. He made me remember why I loved him. I got up and took a shower. I began to live again, but I was hollow. I sat at the dining room table drinking coffee, watching the snow fall and the wind blow around the condo. Jason came and sat with me and I grabbed his hand. "Thanks for being here with me and helping me through this. I'm really going to need your help in the months ahead." He grabbed my hand back. "JP, you've done so much for me. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you." I smiled at him. "What are you doing for Christmas?" I asked him. I realized that we'd been so busy we hadn't even talked about it. "I'm going to stay here," he said glumly. I looked at him and he continued. "Thanksgiving didn't go too well. There's no reason for me to go home." I nodded. "Looks like we both have our crosses to bear." We sat there contemplating our own personal hells. "I think you should come to Claremont with me." "I don't know JP. I don't feel very festive." Time to use some emotional blackmail for his own good. "I need to head home and I just don't know if I'm up to driving by myself. I guess I was being a little selfish, figuring that you could help me out. I'm sorry, it was wrong of me to impose." "I wouldn't want to intrude on your family JP." "You wouldn't be. We always have lots of people around. It's festive. It's fun. You can help me deal with the bullshit. When it gets to be too much we can sneak off and be miserable together." I actually smiled when I said that, and he smiled back at me. "When do we leave?" READ THE COMPLETE STORY AT: http://www.gayauthors.org/efiction/viewstory.php?sid=734 OR http://groups.yahoo.com/group/arbourtales/