This story details explicit gay sex between men, teens and boys. If you find this kind of thing distasteful, or if you are underage where ever you live, then stop reading this now, and delete this file. The story is completely fictional, the author does not condone or encourage any of the acts contained herein.


Chapter 27

The rest of the vacation is a whirlwind. We see Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf, and it's not as bad as I'd expected. You've got to understand that the last time I saw this particular Albee piece was in London, a revival with Diana Rigg as Martha, and David Suchet as George. Katherine Turner and Bill Irwin cannot compare well, and they don't. But, Katherine Turner is not an actress, yet she manages to pull off this role, more or less. We're talking caviar to sardines here.

The free Julliard performance of Shostakovich's Quintet is almost more than I can bear. The recording I've listened to for years was done by the Borodin Trio with Jerry Horner and Mimi Zweig. It is very good, achingly good, but these Julliard kids are...I don't have words. Not one of them is over 22, according to their biographies, and this is a class project, basically. I've sandwiched myself between Jason and Kenny on my left, and Ian and Alejandro on my right. I've warned them what might happen. And then it begins, and from the first few bars, I realize just how different their interpretation is going to be, just how much better their musicianship. They are so together, I cannot fucking believe it. After about ten minutes of this, I'm weeping, and Jason, too, is touched, crying softly. I don't think anyone notices, mostly because we're quiet, and because we've isolated ourselves amongst the more stoic Kenny, Ian, and Alejandro. Thankfully, the Quintet is not the last piece in the recital. There's also a Webern piece to follow, and something by Schφnberg, neither of them favorites of mine. I have time to pull myself together before we have to leave. I'm very, very quiet on the way back to the hotel, playing the music back in my mind, over and over. I just don't know what to say to anyone, don't know that I can say anything to anyone for an hour or so. It was just so beautiful.

Ian and Alejandro spend a lot of their time in museums, separating from Kenny, Jason and me. They get to the Frick, but also the Guggenheim, the MOMA (Museum of Modern Art), and a couple of other boutique museums that I haven't even heard of, one in Brooklyn. Jason, Kenny and I spend some quality time in the Village (East and West), in Chelsea (which is pretty bleak), in Hell's Kitchen (quickly becoming the new gay ghetto), and back in Chinatown for cheap eats. I love these boys so much. It's just nice to be alone with them, something I think Alejandro and Ian sense – our need to be alone with each other.

And, then, of course, there's Splash.

We reconnect with Vijay on Saturday night at 7pm. I've been having serious cravings for Vietnamese Beef Noodle soup, Phở, one of my favorite things on earth, but Vijay doesn't know what that is, and doesn't know any good Vietnamese restaurants. He does know a couple of good Thai restaurants, though, he says, and we finally decide to go to Krung Thai, a restaurant of the same name as one in our neighborhood in San Jose. There we order the Thai version of Hot and Sour soup, Pad Thai noodles, stuffed squid in green curry sauce (one of my favorites at home), shrimp in yellow curry with Thai eggplant, a deep fried pompano fish, Kai Toon (which is, essentially, steamed eggs and ground pork), and a tea salad (which I thought was strictly a Burmese dish, but which has apparently made its way to Thailand). All very yummy, but, like much Thai cuisine, a little too sweet for me, although it's fiercely spicy, which pleases everyone but Ian. If you start in Burma or Laos, moving through Thailand to Cambodia, and from there to Vietnam, you move from sweet to salty in terms of foods. I prefer the Vietnamese. Their food, while using many of the same ingredients as Thai cooking, is far more savory than sweet, bordering on sour, like their Catfish and Tamarind soup. Just delicious. Jason's favorite Chinese dish, Stuffed Bitter Mellon, is actually, I think, an import from Vietnam adapted to Hong Kong tastes, the Vietnamese version laced with far more fish sauce than the Hong Kong Version, but the ingredients are otherwise the same.


Following dinner, we make a long and leisurely pilgrimage to Splash, arriving at about 10:30, half an hour before our expected arrival. I leave the boys leaning against an adjacent building, while I take Vijay aside. "So, one of the things about being a houseboy is getting punished. You've done that, and enjoyed it, I think, right?"


He nods.


"Another responsibility is what they call in business `completed staff work.' In other words, you do as you're told, you submit. Are you ready to submit?"


Vijay gives me a long look, and slowly nods, apprehensively.


"I tipped my hand the other night when I told you that Splash was owned by the brother of the owner of N'Touch. The boys knew instantly what I had in mind, knew instantly why I knew these guys are brothers. When we go to N'Touch, the boys dance naked in the go-go cages, something Brian, the owner, can't get anyone else to do. They do it because I want them to. My will. It was pretty hard for them at first, and the question was always whether they were willing to submit even if it was embarrassing, even if it was humiliating. They did it because I told them to. They do it now because they like it, because they've gotten over a lot of fears and insecurities about who they are, how they look, how they should present themselves, what their image should be. They do it now with relish, with abandon, because it's liberating. No pretenses, no Prada, only really beautiful skin. They're going to do that tonight. I haven't told them yet, not explicitly, but when I said that Splash and N'Touch were related, they knew. Are you ready to join them?"


Long pause. "Naked?"


"Naked or nearly naked."


Long, long pause. He looks into my face. I see fear, embarrassment, revulsion...and longing...and a bulge in the front of his pants. "Umm...okay."


We return to the others, and I smile. "Okay, guys, you know the drill. You're not in cages tonight. It's a much more open atmosphere. You're dancing on platforms while getting drenched with splashes of water – hence the name of the club. Not sure whether you'll be naked, or just nearly naked. The owner wasn't sure what he could get away with. Vijay says he's going to join you."


Vijay is beet red, hard to tell with his complexion and out here in the dark, but I see it, and I think they do, too. Jason moves to him, and hugs him. "You'll be fine. It's only weird for the first five minutes of so, and then you're just dancing. It's actually a lot of fun."


Vijay nods, and we move to the front of the line, to the bouncer. I give him my name, and he ushers us in, sending someone to get the boss. Five minutes later, Brandon appears. I recognize him instantly, though I haven't seen him in years. He greets us warmly, hugging the boys. I introduce him to Vijay, "a new addition," I tell him, and he hugs him as well.


"So, since we talked, I talked to my lawyer. He thinks there's no problem with nudity here. It's a private club, and patrons know (or sort of know) what they're going to get. He thinks that even if I'm sued, we have a strong defense, and if we are sued, this will be a good test case. You still willing to do it naked?"


I nod.


He points to five locations around the club. They're not especially defensible, as the cages at N'Touch are, but he assures me that if there's any inappropriate touching, all the boys need to do is press a button above them, and a bouncer will be there instantly to eject the offender. Water cascades down from above each station about every three minutes, but each station has a non-slip surface for safety. The water is kept at about 75 degrees, so it should be comfortable but not stifling. This'll be like a three hour shower. Brandon leads us to the dressing (or undressing) area, and the boys strip, waiting to be led to their stations. Vijay is slower than the rest, and clearly very uncomfortable, very much out of his element. This should be interesting.


One by one, a bouncer leads the boys to their stations, and they begin to dance, and the noise is deafening as the crowd realizes that these boys are completely naked. Vijay is the last to go, and looks like a deer in the headlights. Jason has reassured him several times, but he still looks very...scared, very...young.


Public nakedness is an effective metaphor for something I think Vijay needs to achieve, the stripping away of a persona he's created for himself that I don't think he much likes. "What if one of my students sees me here...naked?" he asked, when I told him I wanted him to do this.

"Do you like your job, Vijay?"

"No," he'd replied, emphatically.

"Then why do you care?"

But he does care. He's so invested in an image of himself, constructed by his parents and, later, by himself, to reflect the boy he thought he needed to be, but wasn't, that he's lost sight of who he really is. He has no clue. All he knows is that he can't connect with others, which isn't surprising because there's no Vijay in there to connect with. It's someone else, a fiction, someone he doesn't know or understand. In a lot of ways he reminds me of a pre-Hawaii Kenny, so guarded and fearful, so convinced of his personal inadequacy, that he's unable to let anyone near him, even if he wanted to. He breaks my heart, actually, truth be told. As the bouncer leads him to his station, he looks forlorn, completely lost.

The good news is he's dancing about eight feet away from Jason, who is into the beat, but also watching Vijay like a hawk, giving him reassuring glances throughout the set, glances that actually do seem to reassure him. If you'd looked at Vijay carefully at the beginning of the set, you'd have realized that he was crying, sobbing. The splashes of water cascading over him obscured this. As the set continues, though, he starts to get into it, starts to lose track of his image of himself and to become who he really is. Music, I think, does this for many of us. It's like a mantra in meditation, something you chant to yourself to drown out all those toxic voices in your head that reinforce the false image of yourself that you've created. It's why I sob at concerts. Suddenly, all the strict controls I've established for myself and my world vanish, and I descend into pure emotion, release. This is what I see happening to Vijay. He goes from a rigid, sobbing mess, a caricature of himself, to an essence, to something that just is, unfiltered. And, he starts to dance like crazy. Who knew he was this good? He's rhythmic, graceful, and ultimately jubilant, smiling broadly, having either forgotten that he's naked, or not caring. Or, maybe he's like Andrew used to be – loving that he's naked.

After three hours, the boys are rescued by the bouncers and led back to the dressing room. Brandon has sent one of the barmen with towels and to take drink orders. The boys are exhausted, but dry themselves off dutifully, and dress. When we get to the bar, our drinks are ready, and Brandon is there to meet us. "You guys were awesome," he exclaims, hugging each of them, "just fucking awesome. The crowd just loved you. I realized after I'd agreed to Tim's request, that I didn't know if any of you could actually...dance, but you're all as good as any go-go dancer I've ever seen. And you," he says, focusing on Vijay, his hand on his shoulder, "you were amazing. When you first came out, it almost looked to me as though...umm...as though you were crying. I was really concerned, and told Miguel, the bouncer who took you to your station, to stay with you in case you...umm...needed to...get out of there. But, I don't know, in maybe ten or fifteen minutes, I looked again, and you were a fucking dancing machine. Really, really good. I gather you have something else you do?"

"Umm...yeah," Vijay says, a little flushed, but giggling. "I teach at NYU, or did..."

Brandon laughs. "Well, if you ever want to change careers..." We all laugh.

After a couple of rounds of drinks, which Brandon happily supplies, we say good night, and make our way back to the hotel. The boys are spent, and by the time I get back from the bathroom, having been the last to go, they're all snuggled into bed, snoring softly. I have to burrow up between Jason and Vijay, earning irritated snorts from both of them, before I can wrap myself around my little Jason and fall asleep myself. What a night!


Three days later, Vijay drives us to the airport. We've had a blast on this vacation, but are all exhausted, all looking forward to getting home. I tell Vijay not to bother to come in with us. Airport security being what it is these days, he's probably not going to get very far with us anyway, and we're only an hour or so from our departure time. When we arrive at the Departures, and he pulls the car to the curb, he's close to tears. We all get out of the car, pull our suitcase out of the trunk, and then stand, looking at each other awkwardly. And then Jason runs at Vijay, wrapping his arms around his neck and, surprisingly, his legs around his waist, and kisses him fondly. "Take care of yourself," he says, kissing him again.

Kenny is next, although less flamboyantly, followed by Ian, and finally Alejandro. And, then it's my turn, and as I approach, the first tear trickles down his cheek. I wipe it away with my thumb. "Don't cry. You'll be with us in a week, right?"

"If you still want me."

I smile. "Of course we still want you. Please don't let us down. What day can you be there?"

He thinks. "Next...Thursday."

"Good. We'll expect you then. Until then, I'll expect to talk to you on the phone at least daily. If you don't call me, I'll call you. If you want to call more often, go ahead. I'm usually home (although we're going to be scouting for housing in LA this week), but you have my mobile number in any case. I'm really looking forward to your being with us, Vijay," I assure him, kissing him, the boys nodding behind me.

"Bye," he says bleakly, as we move to the terminal. This boy breaks my heart. He's so lonely, so disconnected, so demoralized, and so very depressed. The trick is going to be keeping him alive and sane through the course of the next week. The trick is going to be getting him to us in a form that we can work with. I look worried as we enter the terminal, and Jason notices it instantly.

"He'll be okay, Tim. I'll call him during the day to chat, and so will Kenny. We'll coax him through this." I hug Jason fondly.

"Thanks, Jase. He's a sweet kid. I'd hate to see him...well..."

We hug again, and then are caught up in the whirlwind of what has become the airport check-in process. I am so fucking glad to be self-employed these days, so glad not to be traveling 200,000 to 300,000 miles a year, as I did for years. What a soulless existence that is, in and out of airports almost daily, in and out of hotel rooms. Friends ask me if I've been to this or that city, and I always nod. I've been everywhere, but haven't seen nearly anything. Often, the most I've seen of a city was the convention center hotel. In a number of cities, such as Tampa, the airport, hotel and convention center are connected, so I'd never emerge from the artificial ether of the airport into real oxygen. The guys who have traditionally drawn these travel schedules at most large companies are the guys who are unmarried. I leave it to you to fill out this thought. Family men can't travel this much, the theory goes. I actually had one boss who told me that, because I was gay, I was the ideal traveler: no family. And then I told him about my partner at the time, and his response was: "Well, no kids. Not really a family, is it? It's not like you're married." It's good to be self-employed and to manage my own travel.

When we finally reach San Francisco, Gary and Nathan are there to meet us and whisk us home, to a sumptuous Chinese meal at their place, courtesy of Nathan, something we've all been longing for, I think, to warm hugs, and good conversation, to boundless laughter, and the joy of being together. This is my family – my two adorable husbands, my two beautiful children, and my two delightful friends. I couldn't love them more, good people of California.


The next week is a whirlwind of activity. Alejandro, Ian and I spend most of it in LA, looking for housing. The university always likes its incoming freshmen to live in dorms, but neither Ian nor Alejandro is coming as a freshman, so the university has relented on that requirement. I personally don't want them living in a dorm. I remember the dorm mentality from when I went to school, and would like to help them avoid that. On the other hand, I don't really want them living on their own, either. Apartments can be very lonely places, especially if you're new in town. So, what we've been looking for is a gay-friendly boarding house or private home, and on Wednesday, I think we find it. Responding to another Craigslist ad, we find an old Victorian near to the university with a room for rent, a big room. The resident owner of the house is a 58-year-old...woman. (I was going to say "hippie," but that description really doesn't fit her.) She reminds me of Joan Baez, but not quite as stunning. She does, however, play the guitar and sing a lot, she says, and is certainly a peacenik, a vegetarian, a progressive. Good so far. Her son is gay, she tells me, and is now living with a partner of ten years in New Mexico. They've both artists. She, herself, is a painter, in the southwest style, and shows us her work, hanging everywhere throughout the house. I have never seen Alejandro so excited. He raves, moving from one painting to another, touring the art rather than the house. Ian, too, is captivated, as much by this woman as by her painting. And then it hits me. She is the image of Sarah McPherson, Ian's mother. She's what Sarah would have looked like ten years from now. She even sounds like her, both in voice and in opinions. When I knew her, Sarah was already toying with the idea of becoming a vegetarian, disgusted at how meat processing was being carried out in this country. Her progressive views, her happy-go-lucky approach to life, all are embodied in this woman. Sarah has been reincarnated into a woman fifteen years older than she was when she died. There's a thought!

She has one room vacant at the top of this three-story house, an attic room, and it's spectacular. It has windows on both walls looking out at the city, and dormers on both sides of the roof that flood the room with light, a perfect place to paint, she opines, and so cozy. She has six other rooms rented, one to a gay couple, grad students at UCLA, one to a lesbian couple who are not students, and four to gay male undergrads at either UCLA or City College. We get to meet two of the gay guys, and they're both very nice, very welcoming, and the gay male couple, who are adorable, so much in love. "They had trouble finding a place where they felt safe to express themselves, they told me," she says. "It's so sad that by this time, we still haven't dealt with the issue of sexual orientation very well." Amen, sister!

The boys are enchanted, and nod vigorously at me when I give them the quizzical look that says: "Well?" We sign a rental agreement on the spot at a monthly rate of $750, which I think is a steal. And that includes use of the kitchen, and dinner three times a week, prepared by their landlady. Vegetarian, albeit, but that's not a bad thing. I'm so happy that they'll have someone helping them manage their nutrition. The boys are elated, beside themselves with glee, jumping up and down, hugging, kissing each other. "I guess they're happy to be in LA," their landlady says, a smile on her face and a little glassy-eyed.

"I guess," I reply, giggling. They are just so cute together.

We go next to IKEA to get them a bed, a couple of desks, a couple of book shelves, an area rug, and a couple of chairs and lamps, and return to the house to set all this up. Five hours later, their room looks like they've been living in it for years. The landlady, Vivienne Tourneau, is impressed. "You guys work fast," she says. "When do you want to actually move in?"

A good question. We discuss it, and finally conclude that they'll fly down on Friday with their stuff, and she agrees to meet them at the airport with a car capable of dragging their stuff to the house. Very nice of her. Ian just can't contain himself, and is still jumping up and down. Finally he runs at her, flinging his arms around her, kissing her. She's not glassy-eyed any more. She's crying, remembering her own son at this age, she says. Finally, we have to leave, to catch our flight. I pay the first and last month's rent with a check that I'll recoup from Ian's trust fund, and we drive to the airport. The boys are simply glowing, and, as we move through the airport, we get more looks from passersby than I would have expected. Happiness draws attention, I guess, and they earn a lot of smiles as we run to our gate, the boys hand in hand.

At dinner that night, a Jason meal, which means Chinese gourmet, we recount the events of the day, and Jason and Kenny are captivated by Ian and Alejandro's excitement. Of course we're all going to miss them, and they're going to miss us, a fact that dawns on all of us half way through the meal, when we all suddenly get quiet and look sad. But this doesn't last long. "Face it," I say, "this'll be a good excuse for us to come to LA. God knows your room will sleep all five of us." Suddenly, we're all animated again, talking non-stop.

After dinner, as the boys are washing up, Jason comes to my office to say that he's talked to Vijay, and that he will, in fact, be flying in tomorrow evening. "He seems a little depressed, but not despondent. He says he's really anxious to see us."

"What time's he get in?" I ask.

"His flight arrives 5:32pm, into San Jose. American."

I'm surprised. "So, he has a layover somewhere?"

"Chicago. He said the ticket was a lot cheaper than a direct flight into San Francisco."

"5:32pm," I muse. "Jason, my love," I say, smiling. "Let's make tomorrow evening special. It'll be Alejandro and Ian's last night with us, and Vijay's first. Let's throw a little party. Come up with a really nice Chinese menu – lots of seafood – for, say a dozen people. I'll invite Gary and Nathan, Becky and Norma, and maybe Teddy and Ty. We'll see who can come on short notice. Let's make an evening of it." Jason is very excited, enjoying nothing more than a dinner party. He runs off to plan, while I make several phone calls, the first to Gary and Nathan, who agree to join us, then to Becky and to Norma, two of our neighbors and very good friends, one a lesbian and one an 82 year old former county supervisor, both of whom can come, and finally to Teddy and Ty, a couple that Jason and I met through an gay Asian organization that he belongs to. They, too, can come. This should be a lot of fun.

The next evening at around 5:15pm, I'm at the arrival gate for Vijay's flight, which arrives right on time. After about half the plane has disembarked, I finally see Vijay move through the gangway door and into the terminal, and he sees me, immediately tearing up as he runs to me. We hug for several minutes as the rest of coach deplanes, skirting us as they flow down the gangway. We get several curious glances as we continue to hug, and as he finally pulls back and kisses me. Finally, he grabs his bag with his right hand, and my hand with his left, and we walk back through the terminal to the baggage claim area downstairs to claim the rest of his luggage. Grabbing a cart, we lug his bags to the parking area, load them into the Westfalia (which I drove because I had no idea how much stuff he'd have), and head home.

"It's so good to see you," Vijay exclaims.

"And, good to see you too," I reply, reaching over and kissing him. "We're going to have a little soiree tonight," I confide. "It's your first day with us, and Alejandro and Ian's last. They'll fly off to LA tomorrow, so it's sort of a landmark. My best friend Gary and his husband are joining us, a couple friends that I met through Jason, and two very sweet neighbors. Jason has been working his little heart out on dinner, and Jason doesn't have to work hard to be sensational, so this should be truly spectacular. Hope you won't mind a crowd on your first night."

"Not at all," he beams. "I'm just so happy to be here."

"Good. We're happy to have you."

My house is only about ten minutes from the airport, so this short conversation is about all we can accommodate before we're home. I pull up in the driveway, help Vijay grab his bags from the trunk, and lead the way into the entryway. "Drop the bags here for the moment," I tell him, pointing to a corner of the entryway, and we make our way into the kitchen, where we find Kenny, Jason, Alejandro, Ian, Nathan, and Gary. The boys are cooking, all dressed preppy for the party (so as not to shock the neighbors), and Gary is reading the paper, and when they see us, they all race to hug Vijay.

"Vijay, this is my best friend, Gary, and this," pointing to Nathan, "is his husband." Nathan hugs him, and Gary shakes his hand warmly, exchanging greetings.

"We never asked you, Vijay," says Jason, "but do you cook?" I'm on tenterhooks with this question, praying softly to myself.

"Yes," he says, "though mostly Indian dishes."

"YES!" I shriek, and Jason and Kenny, too, are beaming. Vijay is stunned, and a little apprehensive.

"Sorry, Vijay, but we love to eat here. Jason is the resident Asian chef, and you won't find one much better anywhere. Kenny is a good second there, but also does really outstanding Italian, and with some instruction from Alejandro, has become a really good Mexican chef as well."

"That didn't take much tutoring from me," Alejandro snaughs. "Kenny was fantastic before he ever met me."

"Ian has come to do some French, and I do a little German, very little. But, what we all have in common is a love of really spicy ethnic cuisine, and one of the spiciest and most complex is Indian. We were all hoping..."

Vijay beams. "I am not, you know, professionally taught," he giggles, "but my mother taught me pretty well."

"Where do you think these guys got it from, the fucking Condon Bleu?" I ask, pointing to the boys.

We all laugh, and Jason throws Vijay an apron, and gets him started slicing eggplant while Gary and I make our way to the living room.

"So, what's with this new Indian boy," Gary asks, as I pour his scotch over ice and pass him the glass.

"Kenny sat next to him on the flight to New York a couple weeks ago. They had a really good time, and then Vijay asked us to dinner, taking us to a very good, very Indian, Indian restaurant. In the course of the meal, I realized just how messed up this boy is. I think he borders on suicidal. I was happy we didn't have to leave him behind for any longer than a week, because I was afraid of what he might do...to himself. He has a doctorate in comp sci, but he hates comp sci, and seems entirely unable to express himself. He has been playing a role for so long that he has no idea who he is. All he knows is that he's miserable, and thinks he's incapable of ever feeling any other way. He's actually fairly pathetic, but when he comes out of his shell – and we've managed to blast him out twice – he's adorable. He doesn't stay out for long, though, so we're going to try to fix that, give him some confidence, and then match him with someone he's compatible with. He's very troubled. He's going to need someone to stay on top of him, so to speak." I describe his first spanking, and our night at Splash.

Gary laughs. "What is it with you and strays?"

I giggle. "Yeah, when I was a kid we had a house full of cats because my mother couldn't pass a homeless pussycat without picking it up and bringing it home. I also have three adopted brothers that my mother couldn't pass up. I guess I've inherited this from her. Still, he is highly intelligent, and very sensitive, when you break through. We're going to see if we can't make life a little easier for him."

At that moment the doorbell rings, and I go to answer it, finding Teddy and Ty at the door, and Becky and Norma just crossing the street. We have the whole mishpocha. I invite them all in, take the three bottles of wine they've all brought to the kitchen, and come back with the boys. Everyone hugs everyone else, and everyone is introduced to Vijay. Then the boys return to their cooking, and I continue to make drinks for the assembled. Perhaps twenty minutes later the aromas from the kitchen become intense, and Kenny calls us all to dinner. We take our places at the table as the dishes begin to make their way in. Jason has just fucking outdone himself – as he often does. He has what smells like a very spicy Hot and Sour Soup, Beef Chow Fun, Crab in Black Bean Sauce, Stir-fried Geoduck with Vegetables (absolute heaven!), Stuffed Shitake Mushrooms, Stir-fried Choi Sum with Chicken, Braised Fish Hunan-Szechwan Style, Stir-fried Squid in Shrimp Paste, Steamed Rice, and, for dessert, he says, a mixture of assorted fruits: pineapple, jack fruit, logans, orange, mango, etc. I have no idea how he pulled this off with 24 hour notice, but he did. Kenny, I learn later, forbad Jason from carrying any of the food from the kitchen. Kenny made him stand in the dining room watching as it arrived and was loaded onto the table, like a Mandarin observing his minions. This makes Jason intensely self-conscious, but there is a certain justice to it. This is his creation. He needs to take pride in what he's done. How better?

To say that the meal is sumptuous is a huge understatement. No one speaks. No one can believe it. Granted, he's had four sou-chefs. Still, the flavoring is his, the menu is his, and the know-how is his. I'd put Jason up against the Iron Chef any day. I'm confident he'd win. A magnificent dinner.

And, after dinner, we start to mingle, and Vijay gets to really meet and interact with everyone, including Gary, my most political of friends. "I wouldn't get too excited if I were you," Gary admonishes at the tail end of a conversation I haven't been following. "You may think you're in a progressive state, but keep in mind that we just voted to amend our constitution to strip people of their fundamental rights. There are a whole lot of bigots out there, bigots we need to arm ourselves against, bigots whose values we need to carefully understand so we can carefully retaliate. Right now there's a move afoot to strip the Mormons of their tax exemption for instructing their parishioners on how to vote on Proposition 8. It's the right thing to do, but they're using this as a marketing tool, whining about how gay people are infringing on their rights by demanding their own. An awful lot of bigots. You were probably in a better place in New York from the perspective of civil rights."

Finally, the evening winds down, Norma and Becky leaving first, followed by Teddy and Ty, and finally Gary and Nathan, Nathan giving Jason a big hug to compliment him for an outstanding meal. "That geoduck was just amazing," he says. "Where'd you learn to do that?"

Jason laughs with pleasure. "That one didn't come from my Mom. We never had the money to buy geoduck. I got the recipe and cooking instructions from a friend in Hong Kong. They're a little tricky to cook. If you overdo it, they get really tough, and, like abalone, you have to pound them out. We had a Skype session this morning," he giggles, "with webcam and everything, and she watched me prepare it. Technology at its best."

Alone at last, the boys file off to their rooms and come back, one by one, naked, stretching comfortably. I think by now they prefer nakedness in the house. We gather in the living room, and Jason brings out a pot of mint tea and six small Japanese cups. After the tea is poured, I raise my cup, looking over at Jason. "Congratulations to Jason on a fabulous meal." Everyone follows my lead, and then Jason looks at Kenny, Alejandro and Ian, and raises his cup. "And thanks to the best assistant chefs anyone could want," and we drink again. My gaze suddenly falls on Vijay, who is still dressed. With a nod, I motion him over to me, and whisper in his ear. He nods, and leaves the room, coming back in maybe a minute, naked.

"Much better," I comment, and he smiles. But, then I notice the bush, and Kenny sees me as I notice it.

"Umm...Vijay...can I talk to you for a minute," he asks, leading him from the room. They vanish for maybe half an hour, and when they return, Vijay is hairless, flushed, and semi-erect, covering himself instinctively as he moves to sit down. I wink at Kenny, who has taken the initiative, and he smiles.

"Very nice, Vijay, but resist the urge to cover yourself. You're naked, and I want you to feel naked, more naked than you've ever felt." He looks at me with a pleading look, but I'm adamant. He lowers his hands. "Good."

We talk about Alejandro and Ian's departure tomorrow. They'll leave at about 3pm, getting into LA at around 4pm. They are, by now, all packed, and I remind them that I want to talk to them for a couple hours tomorrow morning. We agree to 9am. They've never really been off on their own before, and I have a list of stuff they're going to need to do quickly to hit the ground running. And, I want to talk to them about safety, about caring for themselves. I have a sense that Alejandro is pretty street-smart, but Ian is not. I won't be there to keep an eye on him, and will have to depend on Alejandro for that. But, I'm nothing if not a control freak. I need to make sure that Alejandro is up to the challenge of taking care of my little Ian, my son. Exhausted, Ian and Alejandro head off to bed (in my room, of course), and Jason and Kenny decide to go with them. I'll join them later.

I smile at Vijay. "As for you, Mr. Singh, we have an appointment with my doctor tomorrow at noon for a blood test. We had an AIDS scare here a while back, and I've since become very paranoid about admitting new sex partners into our family. We don't normally wear condoms because we're all monogamous. But, I don't know where you've been, and I don't expect you to tell me. Even if you do, I have to protect my family. So, you'll get tested tomorrow, and again in three months, and again in six months. We'll all be wearing condoms for the foreseeable future." He nods.

"How often do you get off, Vijay?"

He flushes, and looks at his feet. "Umm...I don't..."

"Oh, Christ! Do I have to go through this bullshit with every one of you? Will you stop this embarrassment about sex. Just tell me the truth. How often?"

"Umm...usually once or twice a day," he replies, plumping up as we talk.

"And, when did you last get off?"

He flushes even more. "Day before yesterday," he responds, softly.

I give him a long look. "Really. Why the...delay?"

He looks at me, really embarrassed, having trouble with this discussion. "Sometimes I...umm...can't," he finally says.

"Can't what," I pursue.

"Umm...sometimes I can't...umm...cum...by myself."

"Masturbation doesn't work? You can't get yourself off that way?"

"Umm...yeah," he whines.

I pause, a long pause, examining him. "Actually, I usually can't get off that way anymore, either, or if I have to, it takes some serious anal stimulation. I need a warm body. And, I've gotten more particular over the years. Nowadays, I really need Jason or Kenny involved to get me off – it needs to be someone I really love. I have trouble even with just Ian or Alejandro. I guess I have to be totally besotted." I giggle, and Vijay looks amazed. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he responds. "It's actually good to know. I thought it was just me."

"I thought that, too, at first. Then I started monitoring myself. It takes love for me, love feeds passion, and passion is what I need to get off. Just in case, though, we'll check with the doctor tomorrow, find out if there are any tests we should think about. I plan on being there for the exam, by the way. I hope this doesn't make you feel like a twelve-year-old, but I always go with the boys. They're used to it."

He nods, a little embarrassed, but he's now fully erect. I think he's looking forward to this.

I look at his dick. "You want to get off now?" I ask. He instantly goes three shades of red, and nods. "Lie back on the couch," I tell him, and when he does, I begin to slowly lick his dick, peeling back the foreskin, concentrating on the crown to start with. He begins to pant, to moan. Moving to his face, I begin to kiss him, invading him, while swirling my thumb around the head of his dick. He is squirming now. Breaking the kiss, I take his balls in my mouth, sucking them gently, and then moving even lower, I lick his perineum.

"Oh...oh...oh...," he exclaims. "Oh, Jesus."

Finally, I lick around his asshole, and then the asshole itself. I don't think he's ever been rimmed before, and it's clear he's not going to last long. His breathing becomes instantly ragged. He almost can't contain himself. I move back to his dick, and begin to suck it in earnest now, up and down the shaft, swirling my tongue around the glans whenever I reach it. At the same time, I pinch his nipples – the way to an Asian boy's heart, I've found. Sure enough, with a mighty groan, he starts to cum, and fills my mouth with spunk in an orgasm that lasts almost 30 seconds. Then he collapses, luxuriating in the afterglow, smiling. "God, that was incredible," he says. "I haven't cum like that...in...how long...years."

I kiss him. "Just keep in mind that I'm the source of your orgasms. Not you, and not the boys. That's part of the deal, here. If you're good, you'll get off as often as you want to."

He smiles up at me. "Why would I want to do it any other way?"

I giggle. "So, let's head to bed. Tomorrow's a busy day. Oh, and by the way, tomorrow evening will be your first punishment session, long about 4pm, I think. We'll start you on twice a week for a while, and see how that goes." He nods, a pensive look on his face. "Vijay, that's why you're here – well one of the reasons. It's one of the things that I'm hoping will make you a happier guy."

He nods, and smiles bleakly. "I know. I'm just not used to the idea of getting spanked twice a week, but...I guess I'll get used to it."

I smile. "Sometimes it might not be a spanking," I say with an evil smile.

"What else?" he asks, urgently.

"We'll get to that," I smile.

We make our way to the bedroom, where the boys snore softly. The order has changed. At the left is Alejandro, followed by Ian, followed by Kenny, followed by Jason. I crawl in behind Jason, and Vijay crawls in behind me. It doesn't take long. Within probably ten minutes, we join the boys in dream land, and sleep soundly through the night, an amazing feat for me. It must be the company...

Published first at: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Nemo-stories/