Date: Sat, 29 Sep 2001 03:40:18 EDT From: RitchChristopher@cs.com Subject: Half-Past-Sunset,-an-hour-before-dawn-2 All rights reserved. Copyright held by the author. This is a work of fiction containing explicit sex and graphic language. If you are offended by such, underage, or live in a state or territory where literature of this nature is unlawful, please exit now and read no farther....R.C. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * "HALF PAST SUNSET, AN HOUR BEFORE DAWN" by Ritch Christopher - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Chapter Two When you are a teacher and a student of life, you fill your speech with all kinds of cliches and platitudes. Everyone does it. Particularly the current President. Words and phrases with familiar rings flash before us in each and every daily conversation. This morning my mind was a jumble of just such phrases..."You'll know when it hits you.", "Don't look for love, it will find you", "I never thought it could happen to me", "I've never been in love before", or "How do I know this is the real thing?". I never said a word to Del about love during our second night together. I don't want to fall in love. I don't need to have anyone in my life besides me. I've gone this far without anyone or any steady relationship, why fuck up my life now?". After I picked Del up at the newstand, we drove back to his apartment and just like editing a movie, we got into the same positions and circumstances we were in the night before to assume the continuation of the scene...only this time, we faked the sleeping and "woke up" to restart the action. The first hour or so, if it had been with anyone else, would have been boring. Our lovemaking was slow...TOO slow for me, but with Del, I let him take his time. I don't know why...I just suddenly had this urge to please him no matter what he wanted to do. The second hour, we picked up the pace by taking turns showing each other how much we knew in the art of fellatio. I didn't learn that much from him, but the second time he went down on me, he proved he had learned a lot by the blowjob I had just given him because he reciprocated each action of mine to the nth degree. Now that we knew where each stood on preferences, we turned our bodies into a "69" position and spent the next hour pleasuring each other with mutually oral sensations...with time out for occasional hugs and kisses. Then it was time to decide if we should go further. To keep from embarrassing him over his lack of experience, I took it on myself to mount him first. He had been such a quick study on the oral lesson, it wouldn't take him long to learn the ropes of the anal demonstration. That way, when it came his turn to enter my secret dwelling, he would have no reason for feeling inadequate. I don't know if it was the fact that he learned things quickly, or whether to pat myself on the head for being a good teacher. His loving was passive when I wanted it, but he also knew how to get what he wanted from me. At times we were evenly matched. He had a strength that was filled with compassion. I had foregone making love with anyone years ago. Usually if there was any romantic feelings while I was having sex, they came strictly from my partners. I had to maintain my position of not getting involved with anyone emotionally. I didn't have room in my stratosphere for a third world...my school job and my night life were plenty to satisfy my needs. A lover could never fit into this picture..."world three"...a constant, every night companion. I think NOT. But goddammit, I had feelings for this guy out of all my countless other encounters...why? Why him? Granted his looks, manners; personality, charm, and status would fit the bill for anyone...including me, if I were looking for a long-time partner. I had to really be attracted to any guy before I would let him fuck me. I saved that action only for special occasions and special trysts. But, when he was inside me, his newly learned maneuvers were so similar to mine, I lay back and enjoyed it. I "gave" myself to him. Something I NEVER do. I knew I was playing with fire and getting myself into a situation that could easily fuck up my order. The night before and the following morning when the memory of him had saturated my thoughts completely...and then to go back so soon for seconds...I wanted to run or somehow belittle him before he grasped a hint what he was doing to my psyche. What if we did start up a relationship? I wouldn't give up my rent-controlled apartment and I couldn't expect him to give up his Taj Mahal...and if we lived separately, I know he couldn't trust me to be faithful any more than I could trust myself. He was the type who would be true blue to me and I'd never have to worry whom he was with, where he was, or what he was doing. As I said, I couldn't say the same thing for myself. The first time I missed my nightly frolics and caught the eye of my usual prey...zippers would be flying down and mouths would be opening. How would Del feel if he knew the truth about how I had spent my evenings for almost ten years? Would he understand? Or would he think I was whore...which by many a standard I was, although I had never paid, nor been paid for sex. I was saving that recourse in case I ever lost my job. My next thoughts were even more unsettling to me. Why was I thinking so far into the future after just two dates? I didn't know how Del felt about me. Maybe HE didn't want a relationship. It could be only my imagination...or wishful thinking...NO! NOT wishful thinking...DEFINITELY!! I would not fall in love under any circumstance with anyone...oh, maybe years from now, when I moved into a old folks nursing home, I might be ready to share my live with someone. I must get rid of these "love" possibilities crossing my mind. Maybe Del would go for just being good friends...good friends who would occasionally have sex, just for the fun of it with no strings attached. Oh well, if it ever came up, that would be my plan...offer friendship. My mind kept racing...if HE were to get ill or something, would I, as a friend, move in with him to be a caregiver? Sure...he'd do the same for me. I really had NO close friends outside of Johnny, the bartender at the Quail Tail, and Charlene, his drag roommate, who did shows at the same bar. They were both friendly acquaintances that were fun to go to a movie or occasionally to dinner with. Johnny and Charlene were the only people I knew in New York that I sent birthday cards to and bought Christmas gifts for. The faculty drew names at Christmas. but that was a required gift to give to no one in particular. I hadn't asked for Del's phone number...one time last night when he got out bed, I leaned over to his bedside telephone...read and memorized the number. I hadn't actually "memorized it. I played one of my silly games lying in his bed until I made up a name using the seven digits of the number..."LL-Kool-J". I taught my students how to play this whenever they were required to remember something. The procedure always worked. The fun part was trying to make a word out of numbers. I'd always made words out of car licenses. I'd never really stopped to think that practically everything I did was play games in both life and love. Again, I wondered if a successful Wall Street planner could find happiness with a sixth grade school teacher. He thought I was a Madison Avenue wheeler-dealer and that was OK...but teaching school? He might think of me as socially lower than he. Well, fuck him! I thought I was losing my mind with all these "what-if's". I'd slept two nights in a row with the same guy, whom I had found attractive and suddenly I'm making wedding plans. I had to get a hold on myself or I'd be in the psycho ward at Bellevue. I was transfixing my emotions for routine "number one", my job, as I readied my self for work. I looked at my calendar and realized that I had all but forgotten I'd invited Charlene and Johnny over for lobster kabobs and movies this evening. Johnny loved going to Sam Goody's and picking out the DVD's on our movie nights. He had his list of Hollywood hunks. In addition to the obvious favorites, such as Pitt, Affleck and Damon, Johnny included Billy Crudup, Heath Ledger, Ewan McGregor, Jonny Lee Miller, Jude Law, and Jason Lee. There was no time to invite Del to meet my friends and see the truth I had kept from him. It would be good to "cool" my feelings tonight, away from him. As I called the roll at 8:30, there was one seat noticeably empty belonging to one of my favorites, Tommy Lewis. Teachers swear and be-damned that they don't have favorites, but they do. I was no exception. Tommy was the one who most reminded me of myself. If we are to believe that men and women are born with gay genes or tendencies, there was no doubt Tommy would grow up as a "friend of Dorothy's". I suppose that's why I tried to protect him every way I could without appearing too obvious. "Does anyone know the whereabouts of Tommy?" I asked the class. No one stirred. "Has anyone seen him this morning, either at school or on the way? What about you, Marsha, don't you usually walk to school with him?" Quietly, Marsha Thompson answered me. "Yessir." "Well, did you walk with him to school today?" "Yessir." Again, quietly. "Well, do you know where he is?" I asked, a little more demanding. "Uh," Marsha started slowly, "The last time I saw him was about fifteen minutes before the first bell rang and he said he had to go to the little boy's room." My attention focused to the larger boys in back of the class. "How about it, Ted?...Arnie?...Pudgy?...Butch?...Did any of you guys see him in the little boy's room?" I asked, pointedly. They all lowered their eyes and shook their heads mumbling an almost inaudible, "No, sir." "Well, then, Ted, why don't you go down to the boy's room and see if he's still in there? He might be sick or something." At first, Ted made no effort to move, eyeing the other boys in the back row. "Come on, Ted. Snap to it!" I said sternly. Ted was startled by my command and he jumped up and went out the door, down the hall. "The rest of you, get out your math books. We're gonna have a workout in decimals this morning." The class raised their desktops and pulled out their textbooks. "Now turn to chapter 14 in your books and read the first two pages about placing decimals when your adding or subtracting money. Read quietly to yourselves until Ted returns." Almost ten minutes passed before the door opened. Ted entered, looking sheepishly. "Well, Ted, was he there?" Ted looked toward the back of the room for a clue how to answer me. "Don't look for your classmates for an answer. They didn't go. You did, Was he or wasn't he there?" "He was." Ted said, looking at the floor. "Well, is he all right? Is he sick? What's wrong with him that he didn't come to class?" "He..uh..looked like he was sleeping." Ted replied. "Was he sitting on a commode?" "No sir...He was lying on the floor sleeping." Ted answered. "Kathy," I spoke to my student in the second row. "Would you come sit at my desk and monitor the room while I go check on Tommy? I want you to take a pencil and paper and anyone who talks or misbehaves, write his or her name down. Will you do that for me?" "Yessir." Kathy answered. She arose and took her position of sentinel at my desk. I ran down the hall, not knowing what to expect...only the worst, I was sure. I threw back the door of the bathroom and entered, I looked around and didn't see him. I began to open the doors of each of the booths. In the seventh stall, I found Tommy lying on the floor, His body was curled around the base of the toilet. I held my breath in fear as I touched his neck to feel a pulse beat. He was alive. Thank God for that. I applied pressure to each of his limbs and at least, I didn't notice any broken bones. I saw no blood, just a lot of water on his shirt, head and hair. I saw no obvious bruises so I took a risk of trying to set him up. When I did, Tommy coughed and began to spit and vomit saliva or clear fluid. Years ago, I had learned CPR when I was a lifeguard one summer. Tommy had all the indications he had almost drowned...but where?...in the commode? My thoughts raced back to how the bigger boys were reacting to my questioning and I began to put two and two together...and I didn't need the math textbook for the answer. I used one hand to lift his eyelids. His eyes rolled and I turned him over to apply some CPR to get more fluid out of his esophagus. He heaved and coughed twice more and about two cups of liquid spewed forth on the floor. He continued to cough, but the rest of his body was showing signs of life. I heard a cry come from his throat and immediately he started to cry, shedding buckets of tears. His crying increased almost to the point of hysteria. I took my hand and brushed back his wet,curly, black locks stuck to his forehead and continued to stroke it. His cries were interspersed with gasps as he tried to get his breath. The more I stroked, the calmer he became. I don't think he realized it was I who was comforting him, All he knew was that he was safe...safe with someone. That's the way I always wanted to feel and compensated the feeling by my nightly jaunts of holding or being held by someone long enough to feel "safe". He finally composed himself to turn his head to look at me with his baby blues. He was glad it was I and no one else. Whatever had happened, he knew he could trust me. He smiled. "Are you OK?" I asked gently. He didn't reply verbally, he nodded his head in the affirmative. "Care to tell me what happened?" I asked, again gently, I didn't want to alarm him or reveal how frightened I had been when I first saw him on the floor. This time he shook his head, "no". "Suppose I take a guess...hmmn?...Did some boys do something to you?" He kept his head still. "They didn't do anything to touch your private parts, did they?" I asked carefully, He shook his head, "no". "Did they make you touch them or do anything to them or their private parts?" His eyes widened as he became startled that I would ask such a question. Instead of shaking or nodding his head he responded by loudly saying, "NO!". "All right. All right...That's fine. I'm glad no one hurt you that way." I paused. "Can I ask you another question?". He kept his head still, not knowing how far I wanted to probe. "Did someone hold your head and put it in the toilet and flush it?" He dropped his eyes and head and waited for a few seconds before whimpering, "Yes". "Do you want to tell me who did it to you?" "No." "Tommy, I don't think you have to tell me who, I think I know. My problem is to think of some way to punish them without getting them angry or angrier with you." I said. "Please don't." he pleaded. "If you do ANYTHING to punish them, they'll know I told you and they'll just make it harder for me," he replied, shedding another tear. "All right, If I promise NOT to punish them, will you tell me what happened and why?" I asked. Again he nodded, "yes", and paused before his revelation to me. "Mr. Kenner, a lot of the boys in the school don't like me, for some reason. Maybe it's because I don't play sports or games with them during recess. I always play hopscotch or jump rope with Marsha and Carol...and they call me names like 'Sissy' or 'Pansy' and things a lot worse than that." he said and then stopped. "Go on," I urged. "You've told me that much, now tell me the rest." I replied back to him. "Nothing special happened today. I realized when I took off my cap my hair was messed up and came in here to comb it before the second bell rang...and then, THEY came in and started messing my hair up, some more, and they started calling me, 'Pansy', and another called me an American beauty rose. Another called me a daisy and soon they were calling me all kinds of flowers...and then..." "Go on..." "Then one of them said that flowers have to be watered. Then I got real scared like they were gonna pee on me or something...but they didn't! Instead, two of them picked me up and put my face in the toilet water and flushed the tank...again...and again...and again...They held my head in the water and wouldn't let me up to breathe. I held my breath as long as I could, but when I opened my mouth...it got filled with toilet water and I started drinking and swallowing it as fast as I could. I thought if I could drink it down to a lower level, there would be enough space to let me breathe...but I didn't get the chance. They flushed it again. I don't know how long they held me that way,,,but I thought I was gonna drown. I knew something bad might happen to me, but all I could think about was my mother...how she would feel if she heard I had drowned in a toilet...and then, I guess I blacked out or something because that's the last thing I can remember until I woke up and you were holding me." I was really confronted by a problem now. I couldn't be sure exactly who had done this to Tommy, but I knew they had to be punished...after all they might've killed him. On the other hand, Tommy was right. Anything I did to them would make his life hell, afterwards. I could probably protect him the hours he was at school...but the rest of the time...going and coming to school, I wouldn't be there for him. I stood him up and took him to one of the lavatories, yanked a few paper towels and dried his face, neck, and hair. Then I made him stare directly into my eyes while I combed his beautiful black hair. My friend Johnny would die if he ever saw Tommy because Tommy looked like a dead ringer for a young Billy Crudup. I assured him that whatever he had told me, would be "our" secret and I wouldn't betray his trust by squealing on him. I had a simple plan of solution. It wasn't much, but it would do for now. I made him straighten his clothes and asked him to accompany me back to the classroom. As we got to the door, I asked. "Do you think you can face them?" "I don't know," he replied. "Chin up, big guy, and remember, you've got me on your side." Tommy and I entered the classroom as if everything was fine. He took his seat and all the class waited to hear what I had to say. "Karen, did everyone behave while I was gone?" "Yessir," she said coyly. "How many names do you have on your piece of paper?" "Uh...none, sir." "Well, now. That's wonderful. I thought that young ladies and gentlemen knew how to behave when there was no teacher around. I'm very proud of you for being so 'grown up'." "Tommy, how are you feeling now?" I asked. "Uh...Fine, sir." "That's wonderful, too."...I paused before I began my new disciplinary game. "Class, it seems that Tommy became ill in the wash room and several of the older boys in the room assisted him during his illness. That's very admirable. I'm glad you are all learning to care for one another. As you know, we are short of faculty monitors during recess period and the boys on the back row should be just the ones to handle the situation. I mean, what if one of the students in the school fell and hurt himself and the faculty monitor was too busy to see what had happened. The monitor would definitely need help. So to lessen the load on the recess monitor. I'm assigning each of you in the back of the room...that means. Arnie, Butch, Ted, Pudgy, Rick, and Spike...to assist monitor and chaperone the girls during recess to see that nothing bad happens to them and they don't get hurt. One of you can draw out the design and referee the hopscotch. I'll bet even a couple of you could hold and swing the rope while the girls jumped. Spike, you and Pudgy look like you'd be ideal as captains of the Red Rover teams." They began to look at each other with amazement and disgust. "Now if any of you fail in their duties, you'll have to be in my flower garden...Oh, you don't know about my flower garden...? Well, from now on, if I see or hear of anyone misbehaving, they'll have to sit on a stool in the corner of the room and become one of my flowers. The girls can use construction paper and paints to make huge petals and leaves to decorate you. Then, you'll behave as a rose, a daisy, a petunia, or a pansy...Now, does everyone understand? How about you, Ted?...Arnie?...Butch?,,,Rick?...Do we understand each other?" I stared at them without blinking until each of them answered in the affirmative. "Now that that's settled," I continued. "I want the first ten students in the first two rows to come up front and become numbers...zero thru nine. The rest of you will take turns being the decimal point while we play." I was glad when the school day finished, but somehow I wasn't looking forward to my evening with Johnny and Charlene. I was wrong in not giving Del my phone number. I was deeply wrong in keeping my true identity from him. After all, he had been totally honest and up-front with me while I succeeded in deceiving him. But, hell, how was I to know I was going to have feelings for him...let alone become attached, emotionally? Oh, well, a night with my favorite bartender and drag just might be all I needed to shake the feelings for Del that were gnawing at my insides. I drove to the fish market and picked up some freshly cut lobster chunks and then on to the supermarket to get what I needed for dinner. As I drove home. I found myself being drawn to Del's street and apartment. I was wishing I would see him, but I was hoping even more that I didn't. The two of them arrived around 7:30. Johnny always looked neat in his jeans and pop t-shirts. Charlene, as usual, was dressed to the nines in full drag. In all the years I'd known her(him), I'd never seen him without make-up or in male attire. Hell, I didn't even know his real (man's) name. "Charlene" was all I'd ever known. "We brought Chablis like you requested," Johnny said, handing me an half gallon jug of wine. "What movies did you bring?" I asked. "Charlene picked out three. We can watch one, two. or all three of them. Otherwise, I can go home and watch them by myself while I masturbate." Johnny said, imitating a drag with a lisp. "And who is our 'Star of the Evening'?" I asked. "I'll tell you the titles and you guess my mystery hunk." "OK". "I have 'Jesus' Son', 'Waking the Dead', and 'Without Limits'...Guess who?" "I know that one," I said, "Billy Crudup". "He is divine," said Charlene, in a sultry voice. "His brother, Tommy; is or was the senior talent coordinator on 'The Rosie Show.' Billy lives with Mary-Louise Parker...I don't know what the fuck she has that I don't." "Honey, maybe it's something she has that you don't that makes Billy attracted to her." Johnny replied. "Cunt!" Charlene yelled. "Exactly!" Johnny answered. "I know a piece of trivia about Billy that maybe you don't know." I said. "If you tell me you know how long his dick is, I'll die right here." Charlene exclaimed, feigning a faint on the sofa. "No, I'm afraid I know nothing about his personal life or attributes, but I read where he's been signed to play the lead in Kerouac's 'On the Road' with Brad Pitt playing Nick Cassaday." "Oh, my God, I'm going to start holding back a little semen in storage every time I come, so I can have the biggest orgasm in history when they release the film....Pitt and Crudup together? How much can a girl stand to see on one movie screen? Every theatre will have to hire a registered nurse for the entire run of the picture to pass out ammonium nitrate vials for girls like me who can't stand that much excitement for all at one time...Fan me, Johnny! I'm getting the vapors just thinking about it." She faked another faint, but raised her head long enough to add, "Don't you just hate Jennifer Aniston...that dizzy bitch with the cheap nose job and so many capped teeth she can't even talk without a lisp?...Oh, Lordy, Lordy! Fan me, Johnny, fan me!!" "Johnny, why don't you revive her by fixing you two a drink? You know where the bar and everything is." I offered. "What about you, Chris?" "Orange juice on the rocks." I replied. "Chris, are you sure you're gay? I mean, you and I have never made it in bed, but I've never met a faggot who didn't drink." "He's gay all right," Charlene spoke up. "With the exception of you, Johnny...from what I've heard about Chris. he never met a man he hadn't had." "Bitch!" I joked at her. "I don't have to kiss and tell, I have friends who'll do that for me." "Sometime, I'd like to know, big boy," she said in a mock flirt, "just how many thousands of men you've slept with? I'll bet you've had enough meat in your mouth to stop the world famine." "I lost count but I'm on my third borough of New York." I said, wondering how far off I was in the total. I chuckled to myself. "If you've been sucked off as many times as I heard you have, your dick should probably be long enough to reach in the next room to pee." "Oh God, You're a teacher. Why don't we play, 'Show and Tell'? You show us how long it is and we'll promise not to tell. Do you have to roll it up to fit in you Jockey's pouch...like the way Charlene has to roll her boobs up?" "I don't roll them up anymore." Charlene confessed, "I stuff them in my panties and it makes me fell like I have four balls." "I thought you had your original 'two' stuffed so far up in you they hadn't seen daylight in years." Johnny quipped. "I do," she replied, "The last time I had to go to the hospital for a little urinary tract infection, they X-rayed me and the technician thought I had two dropped ovaries." She said. The whole evening went back and forth with one-liners and quips. The dinner was a huge success followed by the DVD's. I had seen "Without Limits", the Prefontaine Story, so we began the evening with 'Jesus Son', followed by "Waking the Dead". Halfway through it, we were all bawling and reaching for Kleenex. The film was wonderful but as sad as "Ghost". We ended up with the usual "goodbye", "see you next week," and "everything was wonderful" chit-chat. They left and I was alone...VERY alone. It was just a little past midnight and still early enough for a quick trick before bedtime. I walked up West End Avenue. The autumn leaves were more abundant tonight. I took a subway uptown and decided to take a stroll at the Cloisters. Al Pacino's movie, "Cruising" had never stopped me from going there. Sure the Cloisters was an unsafe place at night, but if you were willing to take the risk, you could find any type sex you wanted there. In the shadows you could see the silhouettes of couples in various sexual stances. Left and right in the meat market were all kinds of men...young, old, tall, short, fat, thin, white, black, tan, grey. I couldn't decide which to choose. Many of them stood there holding their crotches in their pants, while a few of them actually had their dicks pulled out to offer you their wares. This section of town was the only thing comparable to Amsterdam's red light district. Other than getting mugged or arrested, the biggest danger was disease...gonorrhea, syphilis, crabs, venereal warts, and of course the biggest horror, HIV. I often thought when I visited here that there should be a vending machine with prophylactics as strong as inner tubes on a car. I saw one hot number that I liked. He was about 25 years old, tall and blonde with the front of his hair draped over his forehead. Maybe he'd give me a quick blow job and I could get to bed early. I stared at the stranger and we began the old "getting to know you" eye contact. I touched my crotch and moved my hand to my mouth. He got the message and nodded for me to follow him. We found a vacant column after passing seven occupied ones and we vanished behind it. Faster than a speeding cumshot, he was on his knees unzipping my fly, I had worn tight black jeans and there wasn't enough room for him to pull my dick out without first undoing my belt and top button. I obliged and soon his hot wet mouth was devouring me. "Oh God, yes, suck me, my stranger in the night! Work your magic on me. Help me forget! Make me the way I wanna be...just like I was before I met Del." I kept saying to myself, over and over. He motioned for me to spread my legs while he worked his head underneath my scrotum to lick the back side of it. He was like a kid using me as his "jungle jim" the way he was contorting himself in and around my lower body. He spread my buttocks and soon I felt a hard moist tongue at my anus trying to force its entrance. The kid was hungry, like a baby bird at feeding time, reaching to get the worm his mother had just brought to the nest. I was only to happy to accommodate him. He was giving what I always wanted this time every night...the sense of being wanted...by someone...anyone...that I didn't have to want back. I was like a junkie who needed a nightly fix. I didn't look at my Casanova. I didn't want to see him. I didn't want to know the color of his eyes, It didn't matter who he was. He was getting what he wanted and so was I...This is all I needed. How could I have been so stupid the past couple of days. I didn't need a lover...THIS...THIS...was enough! I was ready to climax and I was also ready to give him a second serving if my stranger so desired. The number of orgasms was limitless for me. I'm not bragging but I think I could cum a dozen times in a row, although I'd never tried. I closed my eyes, leaned my back on the rocky column and let him have his way with me...only orally...anything more and I'd stop him. "Seven Seconds"...Man's greatest feeling. The average length of the male orgasm when and where nothing mattered...all pain and cares vanished. When I was a kid, experimenting with myself, I saw a movie where a murderer was electrocuted and I imagined myself in his position. I thought how humane it would be if the warden or whoever turned on the juice would let the convict masturbate and then at exact moment he started to climax...turn the electricity on then and let him go out as a man in his greatest glory. I think that's why all the surveys say that all married men continue to masturbate after they're married. It's not being unfaithful...it's just that one time a man, alone, can reach the peak of his masculinity and still maintain his own private world. When I left the Cloisters, it must've been 1:30 AM or so. The stranger and I had never said a word during our intimate encounter. He left happily and so did I. I contemplated walking all the way home but my legs were a bit tired from standing so long and cumming so often. In the many years of my escapades, I'd never felt guilt. I had long passed knowing the meaning of the word "guilt".I had erased that emotion from my psyche...but I WAS feeling something like it. What? What was I feeling? Maybe a bit of remorse for my deception toward Del...but this wasn't "guilt", was it? I, at least, should have given him my phone number. I mean, Johnny and Charlene had my number and I'd never had any repercussions. They knew I was a teacher. I had trusted their discretion about my other identity. I had lived a full thirty-some-odd years and had championed over nearly every adversity I'd encountered, but three days after meeting Del, I had almost let him unsettle my entire way of thinking. Why the hell was I questioning myself about love. I didn't know what the fuck love was when it related to me. But, I was certainly feeling something strange as I couldn't seem to forget him. If I had just made him mad or if we'd had a big fight over something, I would be able to slough it off and go on my merry way. Maybe I could pick a fight with him or find some way to piss him off. That might do the trick. It was 2:30 in the morning. I could call him and wake him out of a sound sleep. That would be good for starters. But then, what could I say to him to rile him? "Hello, Del? Get fucked!!...And stay out of my mind!!" Maybe, my calling so late would anger him and the conversation would progress from there. I saw a phone booth on the next corner. I put some coins in the slot and dialed, "LL-KOOL-J". After fifteen or so rings, he answered, sounding as if he were in a daze. That was to my advantage. "Hello?" Del answered. "Hey, Del!" "Chris, is that you?...Is something wrong?" he asked. "You're goddamned right something's wrong." I yelled. "What is it, Buddy?" "I just wanted to call and tell you something..." I said, pausing long enough to get up my nerve. I remained silent, Whatever words I wanted to say wouldn't come. "Are you in some kind of trouble?" he asked, after a moment of my silence. "Yeah, I suppose I am." I said, reluctantly. "Then, tell me. Whatever it is and if there's anything I can do to help...just blurt it out...I thought we were friends." he said, comforting me. "Del...?" I paused again, "Del...?" "Chris, for God's sake, tell me what's wrong. You're frightening me." "I'm scared shitless to say what I called to say." I said, softening my tone. "I'll hold on and wait for you to find the words to say...Take your time." Christ! He sounded like my mother! "Oh, shit," I began, "Del...have you ever been in love?" "What?" "I asked if you'd ever been in love?" "Why do you ask? You called me this time of the night or morning to ask if I'd ever been in love?...What's the matter, buddy? Have you met someone?" "I don't know for sure. I just wanted to know what it feels like." "Couldn't this have waited?" he asked. "I thought it could...but it can't!" I said, angrily. "Well, I have been in love before, I guess...I assume you've met someone that you're attracted to and don't know how to express your feelings...or at least, not sure how to cope with it...Is that it?" "That's about it, I guess." "Where are you?" he asked. "Out here, somewhere, in the streets of hell." "Are you nearby, enough to come to my apartment?" "Probably. If not, I could always take a cab." I said. "Then, put your butt in one and get on over here and I'll cook breakfast while we talk...or is that "someone" with you?" he asked. "He's with me, so to speak." I replied, "Then, if you like, bring him on over, too and I'll act as mediator if I can and see what's going on between you two." he offered. I didn't reply. I'd forgotten my next line. "Chris?....Chris?...Did you hear me?...Are you still there?" After a moment, I managed, "Yeah, Del, I'm still here...Listen, I'm sorry I called. I shouldn't have awakened you. I apologize for that." "It's quite all right. Are you sure you don't want to bring your friend and come on over?" he asked, again. "Del...I don't have anyone with me." I said, embarrassed. "Then, I don't understand..." he started. "I know you don't." I cut him off. "Del, we've known each other for less than three days...and I've got some cockeyed notion I might be in love with you...but I don't know for sure." Now it was his turn to pause. "I...I don't know what to say, Chris." "I don't either, goddammit...but I do have a lot to say to you. Things about me that you don't know about...and things I want you to know...if we're to remain friends or whatever. What I have to say has been gnawing at my insides ever since I left you that first night." He paused, once more. "Chris? Why don't you come on over to my place and I'll 'buy' you a cup of coffee. You really sound torn up, man...and I think we need to talk." "I do, too...I'll see you in about 20 minutes." I said. The shock of reality hit when I hung up the phone. What the fuck had I just said to him?...And why?...That was the last thing in the world that I wanted him to hear from me...but something just hit me and it all spilled out. I was stunned and embarrassed as I replayed the conversation in my mind. Without giving it a second thought, I flagged down a cab and told the driver I wanted to go to Central Park West and 85th. I had never been at a loss for words in my entire life...and I'd never felt this way before. The taxi sped off south, down West End Avenue to a new destiny. <><><><><><><><> (to be continued in Chapter Three).