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Other Nifty stories by PJ Franklin in the gay, authoritarian section:

Jesse: Nebraska Rancher's Son: nebraska-ranchers-son/
Twenty Minutes To Midnight: twenty-minutes-to-midnight/
Dog Star: dog-star/
My Sarg, His Son, The Lieutenant and Me: my-sarge-his-son-the-lieutenant-and-me.html
A Foresmark New Boy: foresmark-newboy.html 

Note To Nifty Readers: "Go All The Way" is an example of but one of many of my British schoolboy stories. Usually set within and based on a fictitious British public high school, this type of story is very different from an American equivalent high school story. This particular story is, compared to many, very mild sexually speaking and has a distinct focus on feelings instead. Enjoy!

Go All The Way


PJ Franklin

Author's Forward: For maximal enjoyment for those that can, the song, "Go All The Way," on which the story is based, can be listened to for free at the band's website: Make sure to listen to both the "live" as well as the studio version in order to get both the more real feel of the crowd effects and song pace at their real Sunset Strip live performance in Los Angeles, but also the much more vibrant studio recorded offering. After that, just use your imagination and enjoy!

* * * * * * * * * *

Vince Erickson's Point of View:

"Do you have anything to say about your behavior before I give you your cuts Erikson?"

I blinked and shuffling my feet, looked down at them a moment, then looked up, "No sir, I've no excuse," and I didn't really, no matter that I thought Mr. Hodison, that term's history master was a old fart who couldn't possibly understand my fifteen year old point of view. Will Jordon, my House Prefect, who I now stood before on account of Hodison's complaint about my "attitude" in class that day, explained to me that it wasn't really the content of my argument with Hodison, as much as my attitude; but more pointedly, my school, Stratton, insisted that good attitude was the basis of a good education and that mine was apparently lacking some.

I was in no position to argue with Will Jordon. After all, like many boys at Stratton, in House and out, I idolized him, how could we not? His school based rock band, The Zephyrs, not only performed at every school dance, term concert, in-school and out of school band competitions, but was also rumored to have been offered a recording contract by a major U.K. music producer. But that had nothing to do with his responsibilities as our House Prefect. He was seventeen and all, but still, how did he manage a full schedule of classes, chapel, sports and then hours of practice with his band members? I had no idea, only that back-talking a beak had been a bad move on my part.

"Very well, six of the best, trousers and pants down, over the chair, you know the drill, "and I did. He had caned me twice before, but only for the minor infractions of getting caught walking on the grass across the upper VIth quadrangle and once for screaming "shut the fuck up asshole!!!" down the House corridor. He might have let me off the hook on that one, but it was while our Housemaster, Mr. Charles, was standing right there. He had to sanction me.

I bared my bottom to him and carefully bent over the chair, hands on the edges, head up, eyes ahead, feet spread properly. He said nothing more, got the junior cane, swished it through the air twice and tapping at the side of my bum, drew back and gave me my first cut.

Basically, his band lead vocals and awesome lead guitar playing paralleled his caning talents, in other words, it fucking hurt! Then followed the next five cuts and as usual, with perfect spacing down my bum to just above my sit spot. Any boy in his House and under his care that thought that just because he was basically a British public school rock star, that he didn't care about his school or his prefect responsibilities, was either nuts or insanely jealous. I was neither nuts nor jealous, just in love. Yea, I had a big ol' ass busting schoolboy crush on Will Jordon and believe me, I kept it all to myself. So what did I do after my caning and found some alone time in my room? Yea, no guess needed there, and twice at that!

About a week after my caning from Will, a flyer was distributed to all interested about the next school band rock concert three weeks hence. It was, in part, to be "oldies" night and that if a boy wanted to submit a request to the band committee about suggestions of which songs that they would like to hear one of the bands perform, to write or Email the request to the committee. Naturally, I made my pitch, one that really had just about one in fifty to be chosen and actually performed, but I did it anyway.

I loved all the contemporary stuff of course, but had a soft spot in my musical heart for old 70's stuff, in particular a band from Cleveland, Ohio in America called Raspberries. Their career had spanned only from about 1970-1975 and really had only one big hit and that was the song I wanted my prefect's band, The Zephyrs, to play. The song was "Go All The Way." Yea, I had a thing for boys and the song was naturally about girls, but I didn't care. I could strip out all the "hers" and "shes" and put in "hims" and "hes" and in fact I had done just that for myself.

My submission was anonymous to the committee, but just because it would make me happy and fulfill part of a fantasy, I also wrote down my "boy" version of the song on a piece of lined report paper and left it under Will's door one night. It had the altered "boy" lyrics and a short note: "For the band concert. Hope you're not offended, but boys can like other boys, I have a crush on you … V.E."

Yes, I had dared to put my initials at the bottom, V.E., which stood for Vincent Erickson. He would have no idea who did it, it could be anyone really, or if it was a joke or even from his own House. In any case, I was happy daring myself and actually doing it and masturbated myself alone with thoughts of Will in my head nearly every night clear up to the actual concert nearly three weeks later.

On the Saturday night of the rock concert, Stratton boys gathered in our huge school hall as usual, nearly six hundred guys and some girls invited from nearby schools as well, it barely passed fire codes at any rate. There were as usual also, beaks everywhere. The beaks hated this duty for the most part. They would stand in the back along with their female chaperones and their faces showed their disdain and disapproval of rock music, save a rare one or two that were much more hip and aligned with the genre.

The Zephyrs were, of course, only one of five bands to perform that night, but they were regarded as the best and performed last. One by one each band performed, including the one "oldie" song that some boy had requested and we boys and some girls danced and had a mosh-pit going and the whole thing. I was square in the middle of it of course, it being one of the few times it was socially acceptable to dance with another boy and not be looked at like you were overtly queer.

At any rate, The Zephyrs finally came on stage and did their set. Will sang, played his guitar, a beautiful red Gibson he calls his "red Gibby," and performed some of his own songs, including two that the rumored music producer was interested in and of course, we all went nuts. Will was a god up there and didn't I know. I danced my ass off listening and watching him and his band members just fucking kill the shit out of every note on every song like the pros that I thought they really were.

When the main set was finished and the crowd died down, Will turned and walked back towards the drummer. His nickname was "Lumpy," but nobody knew why. Then after a moment , a pause, he came back to the front of the stage and said through his wireless mike piece, "So, last song, an oldie … a good one too. So, whoever you are out there, you've got great taste. This is an American band from the 70's, Raspberries … " and my mouth dropped open as I stood there gawking up at him, even starting to get paranoid that somebody would know that it was me that submitted the song or that Will might know somehow that it was me that passed him that note.

The band went into the opening guitar and percussion licks of "Go All the Way" and I was so overwhelmed, I could feel my throat, stomach and chest ache with emotion and I just stared up at Will for a moment and stopped dancing and had to move way over to the wall and just stand there, frozen with disbelief and adoration. Somehow, my beloved prefect had chosen my song. At any rate, Will started the opening verse and since I knew the song and its originator's voice, Eric Carmen, by heart, I listened intently …

I … never knew how complete love could be …
Till she kissed me and said, baby, please … go all the way! …
It feels so right … being with you here tonight …
Please …  go all the way! …
Just hold me close … don't ever let me go …

I even closed my eyes a moment and just listened, my arms folded into myself. Will had nailed Eric Carmen's intonations and pace and everything perfectly. Then I looked around in front of me. The guys were dancing their asses off and then I looked and in back there was Mr. Hodison, my history master.  He was not only listening next to his female chaperone counterpart, but snapping his fingers and even moving his body a little to Will's smooth and faithful delivery.

I nearly fell on the floor laughing. Hodison, for all his mighty history ability and put-down of contemporary rock music, didn't know the first thing about the history of rock and roll or this particular song. The song, after a huge 1972 release in the U.S, was banned by the BBC in Great Britain because of the sexually suggestive lyrics.

I don't know, that just made my evening, if not my whole school year. In any case, Will and The Zephyrs finished it off with their usual flourish and I was emotionally spent. The concert was over and I made my way out with the crowd, though slowly and for a while just stood in the long corridor just outside of the main hall, absorbing the last possible good vibe from the evening. Will had chosen my song and that was all I cared about and wanted the evening to never end.

I guess I was there much longer than I thought. Suddenly there wasn't much of anyone else around and I guess I was just all wrapped up in a reverie when suddenly, standing by himself in front of me was my prefect and hero, Will Jordon. He pulled out that piece of paper I had written the revised song lyrics from his back pocket,

"It was you Erickson, was it not?" and held it up. I had no choice. My arms folded defensively against my body, I nodded, "Yes sir." His face softened a bit and he smiled gently, "Come on, follow me, " so I did. He didn't seem angry or put off and we said nothing to each other as we walked to our House and inside, I followed him up to his study.

"Sit, " he simply said, pointing to his bed and I did. He got his acoustic guitar and started to strum a few cords, then started  a small arranged opening that sounded an awful like "Go All The Way," and then started to strum and sing my version of the song, in a kind of slow ballad, replacing all the "shes" with "hes and the "hers" with "hims."  I listened and misted in my eyes. His face was kind and serene as he sang.

Then, when it was done, he sat the guitar aside and said to me, "So, do you want to go all the way with me?" I had never done anything with anyone, what would I know to do? So I just nodded "yes." He smiled, "Take off your shirt," and I did and he did the same. He came over and sat next to me. His head leaned over and he gently kissed my forehead …

* * * * * * * * * *

What exactly happened that night between Will and myself and how he knew the paper was mine, well, that's for my precious memory and nobody else's. Did we go all the way? Some would say yes, others no. The point was, and still is, that Will Jordon validated me for who I was and not for what others may have wanted me to be. Did we ever do anything again like that, in school or out? No.

The Zephyrs never signed a recording contract and after he left Stratton, I never saw Will Jordon again. To this day, that was what our school and those like it are supposed to be about, in part anyway, validation and encouragement of who we really are, not who society wants us to be. In any case, Will Jordon had done his part as my prefect, well above and beyond the ordinary. Because he did, he's a saint, my saint.

* * * * * * * * * *

Will Jordon's Point of View:

I hate caning guys, I really do. It's my job, but I hate how it makes most of them feel and despite my privileged position at my school as a prefect, I never have or will abuse my position. I know fellow prefects who have done that some and they suck and I let them know that I think that they suck.

Anyway, like I said, most of us feel very deeply for our fellow dudes at Stratton and that's no bullshit. Despite what you may have heard or read, most independent schooled boys are great guys and will be no nonsense assets to their communities and countries and you can count me in with them.

But after that, if a guy gets off on caning or sex with boys, so be it. Me? I can take it or leave with one exception, and that's when I find out or sense that one of our own are hurting in that way. If a guy wants or needs to be gay, that's fine with me. I'm a musician both for real and at heart and yes, from what I know of my community of rockers, bisexuality is primo, the best.

Swinging both ways is most cool at my level, the non-pro level, and before you come to any other conclusions about me, by the way , just step back a little and give me some room. I can't hardly decide which pair of coloured  boxers to wear in the morning, I have six to choose from, much less which way to swing from one week to the next.

Once you get up in the stratosphere with the likes of icons like our music god, Sir Elton John, well, you all know how long it took for him to break loose from "the business" and be himself finally. That would suck if I had to wait that long to be myself, no matter what I wanted, and though most don't know it but my band members, that's why I would never be able to take the Zephyrs any further than Stratton. I want to have choices, lots of them.  It's true. I don't want to turn pro and that's too bad, too, but enough about me.

So, when I had confront 5th former Vince Erickson about his fuck-up with Cyril Hodison (most of us older boys call him "Queeril Cyril" Hodison for obvious reasons), I almost upchucked. Poor Vince, he doesn't yet see that his dick is preceding him in almost everything he does and that he has it pretty bad for me as well. I catch him looking at bare asses in the showers all the time and have caught him eye-balling my stuff in that manner as well, though I can't say a thing to him about it, why? Because it would crush him and I'm not about to do that to a guy who basically is a very good, honest and upstanding fellow Stratton boy and will someday be a huge asset to his school, actually already is.

The best I can do is just be myself and treat him even-tempered and not let him hurt himself. So like you all want to know. Do I check guys asses out when I have to cane them? I used to, yes. Not much anymore. No, not even Vince's cute little ass gets much space in my brain anymore. Frankly, it gets boring after awhile. My motto when I cane a guy is:  see ass, cane ass. I just make sure I do my job right and not make things any more uncomfortable for a guy like Vince than I have to.

In Vince's case, I did my job, ripped into him proper, as I always do with any guy and make sure he will think twice about a repeat (as much as one can do that sort of thing, some keep coming back for more at strange intervals anyway!). Then, before he had time to embarrass himself, I sent him right out of my room to wherever he wants to go and then decided if I want to have a go at it myself, that is if I'm in the mood. I wasn't in the mood with Vince, I was too worried about him.

So, fast forward to "the note." Bear in mind, we prefects get a lot of good stuff, extra stuff and perks. It's cool, it's nice to be able to swing into town like whenever, go to the pub and throw it back, in moderate amounts without being hassled about it. We don't get the primo stuff but that's OK, it's the freedom that counts. We don't have a curfew per se, either. I know guys who stay out till four here and there, just in each other's rooms and not off school property, usually that is! But we're not under lock-up like the younger set.

The other "perk," if you can call it one, is younger guys look up to us, you know, nothing weird, and by the way, I most certainly did NOT consider Vince's note weird or upsetting or anything than, well maybe, a bit sad and I mean that in the best possible way. To me, it's sad when you have to hide that kind of shit from others. Why is it that my peers get all tweaky about one guy admiring another guy or the crushes, tons of those around, even from guys who pretend that they're all macho heteros, yea, right! Some of them make Vince seem like he's in the back seat of car hell bent for a wife and children and I'm not knocking that either, you get my point.

As soon as I saw the note, all I could do was sigh. Vince hums the melody to the tune of that awesome song at odd times and doesn't even know he's doing it. Yea, we got enough guys around school with the initials, V.E., that's not the point. The point is all those "hims" and "hes" that he substituted in his version of the song, "Go All The Way." I thought it was cool and not only did it not upset me, but it gave me an idea. Of course, I could play any damn song I wanted anyway. I had the band committee pretty much wrapped around the 5th string of my red Gibby, that's short for Gibson guitar, my red beauty! She sings, she rocks, she's the star, not me. Without her, I'd be just another chump "fingering a Fender," sorry. Great guitars and all … um … it's an inside guitar player's thing, you just have to … nevermind! (LOL).

The night of the concert, I made sure that when the time came, my band gave me some space and I'd join them later in my drummer's room. Talk about a freak. I've never known a drummer whose brain was less than a wacko job and I love our drummer to death! Anyway, the band numbers in front of us were pretty good that night. I was backstage chilling. I never warm up my cords (vocal, that is). It makes my singing more natural, primal I guess, but then again, I'm more of a screamer than most guys, and that's partly because it freaks out the beaks who are standing around like little lifeless lamp posts in the hall during our gigs, except for Mr. Radison. He's cool. He's into rock, but he's a younger beak, so it fits.

Anyway, it seems to make them happy to think that they're keeping us boys under wraps. Yea right. I know two guys who wanked each other off for fun in a mosh-pit one night, just to see if it could be done. They did it alright, stunk up the place a little, but there wasn't one beak around for miles who caught on. We all laughed our asses off up on stage, I could see what was going on, imagine trying to sing, play a guitar, laugh and watch that shit going on all at the same time! Fucking hilarious!

So we get on and start to do some of our own stuff. It's OK, I guess, but I'm never satisfied with my own stuff, it's a bad habit and one of the reasons I'm not going pro. The pressure to write good lyrics with a crowd-pleasing hook and "top-forty" melody sucks. I hate it. I write shit for me, not them! Anyway, I spot ol' Vince in the crowd and he's having the time of his life, dancing his ass off. He's checking guys out, good for him, you can do that in a mosh-pit atmosphere and not get any sour looks, bump into whoever you want.

So we finally get to his song. Actually, I got cold feet and almost, almost mind you, changed it on the spot. We actually had practiced three older song choices and I got the final say at that final moment. So that's why I turned and walked back towards "Lumpy," my drummer (don't ask me how he got that nickname, none of us knows!) and I looked at him. He knew what was going on and who the song was for. I guess I just didn't want to embarrass Vince or have him freak out and stuff.

But "Lumpy" just gave me one of his patented grins and quick winks and I was good after that, turned and headed for the front of the stage. I made sure I did NOT look at Vince and said my peace in my wireless and then did take a peek down towards him. His face completely changed from happy to freakish stunned and I thought to myself, "Oh shit, I've done the wrong thing," but it was too late. I started my Gibby's lead in and couldn't help but see that poor Vince was way too caught up in it to dance and just stood there like a sore thumb and then started to walk off the dance floor to my right and I'm like, "Oh fuck shit son-of-a bitch!" in my mind.

Well, there was nothing I could do, so I concentrated on the opening lyrics. "Go All The Way" is a cool song and all, especially for a song from an era way gone past. There's really no such thing as a power pop band anymore, the Raspberries kind of were the peak of that small genre and that was it. Anyway, my favorite part of the song was just the first opening "I."  You kind of stretch it out, kind of let your breath out as you get to the next words, "never knew how complete life could be," it's kind of sexy really or I thought so anyway.

I saw Vince out of the corner of my eye as we performed the song, pretty well too I might add. It was hard for me though. I was worried about Vince, worried that he was upset or didn't like how we did the song, worried that I had embarrassed him, even though he wanted us to do the song, sometimes getting what you wish for, doesn't work out. Then as I sang and played my guitar, about half-way through, I saw Mr. Hodison, "Queeril Cyril,"  way in the back getting his groove on! What a shithead, acting like he does around us and then has the nerve to pretend to like the song, or maybe he really did. Who cared about him anyway?

Well, all good (or even bad) things come to an end. We ended the song and that was it, concert over. I took my Gibby with me back stage and sighed. I had done my best, or was it my worst? The point was, no matter what, I had to find Vince and let him know that he was OK with me. Yes, I would tell him that I knew that it was he who had passed me the puppy-love note and that it was all right and so was he (and also hint that he shouldn't do that kind of thing again, too risky!). I owed him that much.

Actually, I was much better prepared than that, but hadn't decided to go through with it or not. I would decide that when I tracked him down, if I could track him down, that night anyway.

Well, I got lucky I guess. There he was, the hall about empty and he was still in the hall corridor, looking kind of dazed. I stopped before I reached him and thought how he must feel and my heart went out to the guy. He was just trying to take care of himself, his needs, the best way he knew how and who was I to do anything but tell him in the best ways I could that Vince Erickson was an honorable schoolboy who deserved to be reckoned with and treated with respect.  It was right then, that besides the song I had crafted for him on my acoustic guitar, I knew what else might happen.

I walked up to him and kept myself warm and fuzzy in the face as I pulled his note out of my back pocket and said, "It was you Erickson, was it not?" He looked up at me, pretty vulnerable, pretty much busted too. He nodded, "Yes sir," and I was proud of him for owning up quick and fast and not denying himself what I already knew would be something he would never forget. I smiled, "Come on, follow me," and he did. We didn't talk or anything, he followed me up to my room in our House. I told him to "sit" and pointed to my bedside and then grabbed up my acoustic guitar and went to it.

You should have seen the look on his face as I played his version, my acoustic arrangement of "Go All The Way," the one with all the female pronouns changed to male. He drew his knees up and his face was just, well, serene and his eyes all watery. I finished the song and sat my acoustic down and didn't hesitate. I asked "So, do you want to go all the way with me?" and he didn't hesitate, "Yes," he said, solemnly too. I smiled, "Take off your shirt," and as he did, I did too. Then I moved over and sat right by him and I didn't hesitate. I leaned over and gently kissed his forehead …

* * * * * * * * * *

When I left Stratton after my final year, I never looked back. Some guys do that, not me. I just kind of disappeared into my future. That was then, I was very much into the now. And that thing that I did with Vince Erikson that one Saturday night after that one band concert? It would be the last time that I ever did anything with another guy, I kind of just made my choice for the other direction and it stayed solid with me. But, and this is important, my last gig ever with a guy, Vince Erickson, was the best thing I ever did as a Stratton prefect, maybe as a human being. I kind of like to think that it just maybe helped awaken Vince to his choices, his possibilities, and from what I heard after I left, the boy became the man that he was meant to become, and that my friend, is what it was all about in the first place. Peace, Ciao, and keep it real!

Go All The Way

"I never knew how complete love could be
Till she kissed me and said
Baby, please, go all the way
It feels so right
Being with you here tonight
Please, go all the way
Just hold me close
Don't ever let me go

I couldn't say what I wanted to say
Till she whispered, I love you
So, please, go all the way
It feels so right
Being with you here tonight
Please, go all the way
Just hold me close
Don't ever let me go

[Instrumental Interlude]

Before her love
I was cruel and mean
I had a hole in the place
Where my heart should have been
But now I've changed
And it feels so strange
I come alive when she does
All those things to me
And she says

(Come on), come on
(Come on)
(Come on), come on
(Come on)
I need you (come on)
I love you (come on)
I need you (come on)
(Come on)

Please, go all the way
It feels so right
Being with you here tonight
Please, go all the way
Just hold me close
Don't ever let me go, oh, no"

Eric Carmen, Raspberries, "Go All The Way," Raspberries, Capitol Records, 1972

© Copyright PJ Franklin April 26, 2009

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Last updated:  April 26, 2009