The Senator's Son -- Part 1

Disclaimer -- This is a work of fiction depicting a situation involving homosexual men.  If you are offended or are under the legal age to view such matierials, please do not read further.  By continuing, you agree that neither the author nor nifty are responsible for any actions that occur as a result of this story or an individual's interpretation.  Also, if you are a "bible thumper," please email me any comments you have.  I will rebuke every claim that you make.  If you have other comments, feel free to email me if you wish.  The address is

Part 1

I was at the club for the first time since the semester started.  The grueling pace of
academia saw to it that I spent more time studying than having fun.  While I would much
have preferred the latter, I knew that the former was far more important, in the long run,
at least.  After midterms, though, I needed a break from reality.  So when Maria and
Christopher asked me to go out with them on the balmy Saturday evening, I jumped at
the chance.  I scurried around the apartment trying to find the perfect outfit to wear.  I
wanted to impress, but in a nonchalant way.  By the time Maria and Christopher had
arrived, I was more than ready to go, complete with perfect outfit and hair.  I'm not
normally a very vain person, by the way.  It's just that when I go out, I want to impress,
no matter the reason for my departure from home.  The three of us went to dinner at
Nabeel's before heading to the club.  The food seemed better than usual.  I don't know if
it were because it was a break from the ordinary or because I'd recently quit smoking.  
Both of the decisions were good ones, though.  When we arrived at the bar, a line had
already formed outside.  As we stood there waiting, I was awestruck by the sheer number
of hot men waiting to enter the bar.  

"I don't think the Queasy has ever been this busy," Christopher commented,
turning his gaze to stare at an Abercrombie-esque guy walking past him toward the front
of the line to meet friends.  Watching him walk past us, I must admit that he was

"Put your tongues back up, boys," Maria said, snapping us both from the trance
the hotboy had induced.  A slight snicker came from a couple of girls behind us, who had
also noticed our obvious staring.  Christopher seemed slightly embarrassed by the
situation, but I for one wasn't.  I looked at Christopher who said with his eyes for me not
even to try it, giving the impression that the man we'd both just seen was his.  This was
OK with me, as I never came to the Quest for anything other than dancing and drinking.  
This bar, at least, wasn't a place where I'd normally pick someone up anyway.

Once inside, we made our way to the front bar.  Each of us shared in a couple of
shots of our favorite libation before we moved into the dance bar area.  We stood to the
side of the main dance floor, determined to only watch the scenery for a few minutes
while we got drunk enough to dance.  A million hot men, it seemed, packed the dance bar
area.  It was either that they were hot or the tequilas were already impairing my vision.  
Once the dance bar had gotten boring, we got more drinks and went to the patio for a
moment so that Christopher could smoke a cigarette.  The sheer number of hotboys there
that evening seemed to multiply as we sat watching what was going on.  We found an
empty table and sat down for a few minutes; I was already losing my balance from the
tequila and needed a break for a moment.  We sat for a while joking at each other.  By the
time I knew it, Jamie and Kyle (known as the Twins), two neighbors of mine had joined
us at the table.  They were looking especially scrumptious tonight, at least I thought so
through the tequila haze.  For a while, the crowd seemed to thin out.  Maria kept looking
around, as if awaiting someone's arrival.  She'd gotten a call a few minutes ago, but I was
too drunk to ask about the caller.

In a moment, a gorgeous Latin man came onto the patio.  He looked around for a
moment before coming toward out table.  No one other than me seemed to notice until I
said something about him coming toward us.   Maria turned around and yelled his name,
extending her arms to give the man a hug.  They spoke to each other in Spanish, but were
far enough away that I couldn't understand what they were saying to one another.  

"Guys!" Maria called out as she escorted him to the table.  "This is my cousin
Pedro."  I'd hung out with Maria a few times, but it was always with Christopher.  I had
no idea she had a cousin as hot as the man standing before me.  He was tall, dark, and
insanely handsome.  His smile was perfect; his hair was jet black; his eyes were dark and
mysterious.  He was what I'd envisioned in the past as my ideal man.  He walked around
shaking all of our hands.  He seemed so masculine.

I knew that he was out of my league.  He was either looking for another guy as
hot as him or for a girl; either way, I knew that for some reason, I wouldn't fit the bill of
what he was looking for.  Music began filling the patio, and upon recognizing the song,
Christopher, Maria and the Twins went into the dance bar to dance for the remainder of
the song.  Pedro, who said he didn't dance much, stayed on the patio, so I opted to stay
with him.  We struck up a conversation between the two of us, and before we knew it, we
were talking as if we'd known each other for a very long time.  It was nice to have a
conversation with this man: he had a calming, sexy voice that could charm even the most
cold-hearted of people.  His accent gave away the fact that he hadn't been born here.  By
the time the others had returned to the patio, Pedro and I had become somewhat
comfortable with each other, much to the surprise of Maria, who explained later that he's
normally a very reserved person until he gets to know someone.  

By the time the others decided it was time to go home, Pedro and I were just
getting started.  I invited him over to my place.  It was an invitation he gladly accepted.  
That night, we talked until the sun came up.  The next thing I remember, we both were
asleep on my couch, with the TV blaring.  My head rested on his shoulder.  Thank god I
hadn't drooled since I was a baby.

I breathed deeply, only to find the scent of stale cigarettes and liquor corrupted
out bodies.  I tried to wrangle myself out of his huge arms without disturbing him, but to
no avail.  By the time I was free enough to stand from the couch, Pedro had himself

"You have a nice ass, Dave," he said, startling me as I still had not turned to face

"Thank you, Pedrito," I responded, smiling as I still faced away from him.  No
one had called me Dave in a long time.  Josh had been the last person to call me that.  It
was nice to hear someone call me that, since most people spoke to me using the much
more formal David.  

"Dude," he said upon coming to coherence, "we stink."  He then turned up his
nose as I started chuckling at his remark.  I walked into the kitchen and began pulling out
pots and pans to cook us some breakfast.  

"You stink.  I smell like flowers," I said sarcastically.  

"Bullshit.  You smell like bullshit," he blurted as he walked into the kitchen.  He
gave me a hug from behind, grazing the back of my neck with his nose.  

"I smell better than you, señorito," I protested back to him.  

"Then is it OK if I take a shower?" he asked.  

"Sure.  Towels are in the closet in the bathroom," I instructed before realizing that
he didn't have any other clothes here.  I was smaller than he was, so I knew that none of
my clothes would fit the man who'd now turned on the shower and started badly singing
as the water beat down against him.  I crept into the vanity, only to hear just how bad he
actually was.  I grabbed his clothes and threw then in the washer.  I rummaged through a
drawer that Josh had used in the past, to see if there were still anything there that Pedro
might be able to wear until his clothes were dry.  A pair of gym shorts and a t-shirt that I
found did the trick.  I set them on the counter in the vanity as he was turning off the
water.  I hurried back into the kitchen to get started with lunch.  

When he walked into the kitchen, a flood of memories came to my mind with
such strength and vigor.  The clothes Pedro was wearing fit perfectly, just as they did on
Josh.  The shorts showed off his leg muscles, just as they did on Josh.  The t-shirt was a
little tight, but fit in such a way to show off Pedro's massive chest and arms.  His wavy
black hair was only partially dry, still lying flat on top of his head.  His brown skin
glistened with cleanliness.

"Thanks for the clothes," he said.  "They fit perfectly," he added, adjusting

"No worries, dude," I added, grabbing some chicken from the freezer.  "Is there
anything that you don't eat?" I asked as he walked further into the kitchen.

"Ugly men's asses," his quick wit added.

I laughed for a moment as I gathered more supplies from the fridge.  As I cooked,
we sat there talking.  It turns out that he was as liberal as I on many things, which would
impress my parents.  He was also devoutly Catholic, but only went to church on holidays
or when his grandmother guilted him into going.  This would impress my mom, who
herself went to church every time the doors opened, even though she was more liberal
about things than I.  He told me about growing up in Texas, and then moving to
Birmingham when his mom died to live with his grandmother.  He had two siblings, he
went on: one brother in the marines and one sister, who lived with her husband and two
children in Charlotte.  I told stories of my brother and me growing up in rural North
Alabama.  I told him about working on my dad's campaign for the US Senate.  When he
found out who my father was, he was elated.  "I voted for him!" he exclaimed.  (He was
extremely happy when he found out my dad was the Junior Senator from Alabama.  I
found out later that his last boyfriend's father was the man my father replaced in DC.  He
didn't think too highly of Blair or his dad, the formidable Senator Charles Sheriden.)  
Lunch was served in a few minutes, and we continued our discussions of politics and

While most people, I assume, would find this information quite boring, I was
impressed.  He was not only hot as an Alabama summer day, but also smart and kind.  
The conversation was only interrupted once by Maria, who was calling to check on her

"Yeah.  I'm at Dave's," he said to her.

"WHAT?" I heard her say through the phone.  I thought at first she was mad, but
then heard her yell in excitement.  Pedro laughed while turning to me smiling at her

They continued to talk for a few minutes before he pulled the phone away from
his head to say goodbye.  I cleared the lunch dishes off of the modest table in my eat-in
kitchen as he sat on the couch to watch some TV.  He was so polite, in that he asked if it
would be OK.  He explained that he didn't have cable, and really wanted to watch a
"telenovela" that he hadn't seen all season.  I told him it was cool, finished in the kitchen,
and went to take a shower.

As I walked into my bedroom, I stripped down to my boxers.  I turned on the
water and waited a minute for it to warm up, and as I took off my shorts and climbed into
the shower, I saw myself in the mirror.  I thought of how proud Josh would be to see my
workouts finally yielding results.  He was a constant source of encouragement for me to
work a bit harder and constantly strive toward more than my goals.  The water pelted all
over my body; the constant pulse seemed so comfortable.  I lathered up, washed my hair,
and rinsed off...all of the normal shower-taking activities.  I made sure that every inch of
my caramel-colored skin was nice and clean.  My dark brown hair complimented the
color of my skin.  My complexion was the product of my Puerto Rican mother and father
of Dutch and English descent.  My youthful face and body made most people do a double
take, but I never thought I was cute.  Josh used to say that he had the hottest boyfriend in
Birmingham, a statement which always caused an argument between, since I was
convinced that I actually had the hottest man in Birmingham.  It was pointless to argue
now, though; he wasn't here.  As I finished up the shower, I thought again about Josh.  
"Why am I thinking about him so much?" I thought.  I couldn't think of an answer; a
million hypotheses flooded my mind, but none of them seemed logical after a moment's

As I walked into the bedroom, I could hear him talking to someone on the phone
in Spanish.  I could much more clearly hear the conversation and could tell that the
conversation wasn't a pleasant one.

"¿Por qué?" I heard him ask the caller, followed by moments of silence.  "¡Él no
sabe nada!  Dile que pueda chingarse."  (He doesn't know anything!  Tell him to fuck
himself.)  After hearing the anger in his voice, I decided to stay put in my room for a few
minutes, to ensure that he had some privacy.  I sat at the computer to check my email.

The usual garbage flooded the inbox of my hotmail account.  Inside were offers
for services that promised to enhance both the size of my breasts and the size of my
penis.  I didn't need any help with either area, so I deleted the messages.  Christopher had
sent me some forwards which I also deleted quickly.  One message in particular caught
my attention.  It was from Antony, Josh's younger brother.  The subject of the message
was empty, so I opened up.

"Hi New Bro!" It started.  He was twelve when Josh and I started dating.  He was
now 18.  "I just through I would drop you a short message and say that I would be in
Birmingham with Mom and Aunt Jackie next week.  I'm looking at schools, and Samford
is on my list.  I'd like to see you at some point, and I know Mom would, too.  Let me
know if that's cool.  You have my cell number.  Ant."  I looked at the date to find that it
was sent the previous Thursday.  I looked around for my cell to text the boy, but couldn't
find it.  I wandered into the living room, where Pedro was still on the phone yelling at
someone in Spanish.  He looked at me with a plea to get him off the phone.  When I
finally found my phone, he asked to use it for a minute.  He dialed his number, so that a
call waiting tone would sound on his line.

"Hey.  I gotta let you go.  We'll finish this discussion later," he said, hanging up
the phone with whomever he was talking.  A disgusted look came across his face, "It's
Blair.  He's up to some shit again.  Can you take me to my house?  He's threatening to
break in and steal my shit if I don't go talk to him."

I agreed, not knowing what to expect when I got there.  When we arrived, a
cracked-out man was standing outside a first story apartment.  He ran over to my car as
soon as he recognized Pedro sitting in the car.  "Stay here," Pedro instructed as he
stepped out of the car.  "I told you to leave me alone, Blair," he shouted as he shut the
door.  I rolled down the window so as to hear the conversation as best I could.  I could
hear Blair pleading with Pedro to take him back.

"I promise I'll get clean this time," he pleaded.  "I promise you won't worry about
me anymore."

"No.  I'm not putting myself through that again, Blair.  Do you not understand the
phrase, 'leave me alone'?" Pedro went on.

"But please.  I'm in love with you.  You're the only person I've ever really
loved," Blair confessed.

"And there was a point that I loved you too.  You were once a good person.  What
the hell happened?  I'll tell you what happened.  You started using drugs all the time.  
You started fucking around.  You started stealing from me, from your parents, from you
grandmother.  It's no wonder those people don't want you around them.  Now go the fuck
away from me and never come around again.  Do you understand?" Pedro said as Blair
dropped to his knees begging.

Seeing that he wasn't going to convince Pedro to take him back, Blair stood up.  
"You're so fucked up, dude.  You don't know what you're missing out on."

"Yeah?  Explain it to me, Blair."

"You could have me.  Everyone wants me," he said, almost incoherently.

"You have until the count of three to be gone from here, Blair.  One..."

"You're actually fucking telling me this?" Blair demanded.  "I'm not some little


"Fine, fuck you and that faggot in the car."  I was already getting out of the car.  
When Blair got a good look at who I was, he moved away.  He got into a car, pulled out
of the space it was in, and sped off.

"Are you OK?" I asked, walking toward Pedro.  He was shaking almost
uncontrollably.  I took him by the arms and set him down on the ground, since it felt like
his legs were about to buckle beneath him.  He handed me a key and directed me to his
apartment.  He asked me to go unlock the door and then come back and help him inside.  
His apartment looked untouched to me.  I went back outside to find that he'd stood
himself up.

"Sorry about that," he said, walking toward me and the apartment.  He walked
inside and inspected the living room and kitchenette.  Nothing seemed to be missing, but
he moved into the bathroom.  He quickly moved into the bedroom which was unkempt.  

"It's not here.  That fucking bastard took it!" Pedro shouted.  I moved into the
doorway to find him clutching an old box.  "He fucking took it..." his voice trailed off
and a tear started to come from his cheek.  The sadness turned quickly to anger and he
moved toward the door.  I took his resolute nature as a cue to move out of his way, and he
ran out the front door.  I followed him for a second until I realized he was getting his
phone out of the car.  "Maria," he practically shouted into the phone.  "Vente a mi estuvo aqui...uh huh...Pienso que él me robó...uh huh...está
bien...chau"  (Come over to my was here...I think he stole something
from me...uh's cool...bye.)

He closed his phone and walked back into the apartment.  He was distraught.  
What was it that was taken?  Why was it so important to him?  He sat on the couch,
quieter than he'd been earlier.

Maria arrived, but didn't bother knocking.  She rushed over to the couch and
leaned over to hug her cousin.  It was obvious that the two were close.  A top on the back
of my shoulder let me know that Christopher had come with her.  He motioned for me to
walk outside.  We stepped out the front door.

"I don't know exactly what is going on, but I gathered it had something to do with
something of his mother's.  She kept saying "de tu madre..."," he said.  We walked back
into the apartment after a few minutes, and I saw him holding the box again.  Maria was
seated next to him on the couch, rubbing his back.  

"What a weekend," he said.  "I'm sorry Dave, no quería que me conozcas así con
toda esta mierda.  Por favor que me perdones."  (I didn't want you to meet me with all
this shit going on.  Please don't hold it against me.)

"Jamás," I responded, moving to sit beside him on the couch.  (Never.)

"OK.  So now I can't understand a single word y'all are saying, but I'm assuming
it's all conciliatory."  He then walked over and gave Pedro a big hug.

"You really should learn Spanish," Pedro said in his shoulder.  Everyone laughed.

As the evening wound down, none of us wanted to leave Pedro alone.  Likewise,
he didn't want to be there by himself in the event that Blair returned.  He told me later
that he didn't want to stay at Maria's house, because he couldn't stand her roommate.  I
knew from experience that Christopher would probably try to rate him or something, so
that wasn't an option.

"I guess I'll go to my grandmother's house," he said, as if trying to get me to
invite him.

"Or you can come home with me," I suggested.  His eyes lit up like a child's at
Christmas.  He tried to act nonchalantly as he packed some clothes into a small suitcase.  
He put the red box from earlier in among his things, kissing its lid before sealing the

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