The following fictional narrative involves sexually-explicit erotic events between men. If you shouldn't be reading this, please move on.
In the world of this story, the characters don't always use condoms. In the real world, you should care enough about yourself and others to always practice safe sex.
The author retains all rights. No reproductions or links to other sites are allowed without the author's consent.
The town of Stafford, the Sunrise Arts Center, and all the characters in this story are fictitious.
Special thanks to Mickey S. and Drew Hunt, who have provided inspiration, advice, and encouragement throughout the writing of this series.
I had renewed my friendship with my friend Doug Curtis via email and the telephone that summer and fall.
Doug had left Cranmer College in Ohio, where he'd taught for years, about the time I'd retired, and we'd lost track of each other. When we reconnected, he invited me to come to Florida and visit him and his partner. I'd said that it was nicer in Carolina than Florida in the summer, especially in our hilly section, so they should come and see me. But they couldn't get away, and I didn't push it. In the fall, however, Doug began to say again how much he'd like to see me and for me to meet Stan. He said that November was one of their best months in Lake Polk and asked if I'd come for Thanksgiving, or at least during that time of the year. I told him I'd like to do that.
I checked my schedule, called him back, and we agreed on some dates. I didn't want to fly at Thanksgiving if I didn't have to, so we decided I'd go on Veterans' Day weekend instead. I got online and booked my flights. Doug had said not to rent a car, that he would pick me up in Waltersburg at the airport and take me back there when it came time to fly home.
I was looking forward to seeing Doug again. It was good to hear in his voice how happy he was when we talked on the phone.
He'd told me they'd had a rough patch in the local community the previous fall, when Stan had still been city manager of Lake Polk, but he said things had quieted down and that they were staying busy and happy. And they loved the climate. Doug told me he was a native of Tampa, and that he was happy to be back in Florida, even though Lake Polk was a much more conservative and provincial place than Tampa. He said Stan had grown up in Ohio, gone to school there and in Michigan, had practiced law in Pittsburgh, and had been city manager of Meadville, PA before moving to Florida. He was quite happy to be away from the northern winters.
So, as I said, I was looking forward to my trip south in November.
Just as school was letting out one day during the week after I "seduced" Whitney, my cell phone rang. It was Betty, calling from the reception desk at Sunrise. Miss Betty was a sweet, short, plump grandmother type. I'd stopped at the desk often just to chat with her.
"Miss Betty! How are you, ma'am?"
"I'm fine, dear, especially for someone my age."
"Oh don't give me that. You're still just a girl!"
"And don't you give me that, young man. I'm a woman of mature years."
"Yes, ma'am," I giggled. "What's up?"
"Dr. Pell would like to talk with you. Is it all right if I put you on hold for a moment?"
"Miss Betty, you can hold me anytime."
"Naughty boy!" This time she was giggling.
In a moment or so, Whitney was on the line. "Hi, hunk! How are you?"
"Hey, Whitney! I'm glad you're still talking to me."
He chuckled. "Better not go there. What I'm calling about is to ask you to stop by and see me when you can. At the office, that is. So I'll be sure to have all my clothes on."
I wondered if his office door was open and whether Miss Jean heard that. I figured he wouldn't have said it if she could.
"Sure, how about I come by now? I'm just leaving school, and I'm not in any hurry to go home."
"Come on. I'll tell Betty to send you on to my office when you get here."
He was at his pc when I got there. I stood in the doorway and cleared my throat. He turned around and stood up. It was awkward there for a moment. I wanted to grab him and feel him up, but I knew that would be a mistake, even if Miss Jean hadn't been sitting right there in the outer office. I wondered if I should hug him. He reached out to shake my hand, and that made my decision for me.
He asked me how I'd been, but he never mentioned what we'd done the previous weekend. I figured, okay, if that's the way he wants to play it. He'd said what we'd done had been a one-time thing. That made me very sad, but I didn't see what I could do about it. After all, I figured I owed him bigtime as it was.
"So, Whitney, you wanted to see me?"
He grinned. "Louis, it's always good to see you. Today, however, I want to ask you for your help."
"What do you need? Ya know I'll do anything to help you out."
He nodded his head. "I thought you'd say that. You really are a special person, Louis, even if you are a little brash."
I couldn't help smiling back at him. "Thanks, I think."
"Do you know Judd Thomas?"
"Sure! He's a major stud around school. Half the girls in the senior class are panting after him."
"I didn't realize he was so popular."
"Well, he's the star of the soccer team, and he's majorly cute. But I wouldn't say he's popular."
"But you just said . . . "
"Yeah, I know. A lot of folks would like to get ole Judd in bed, but he's sort of shy and standoffish. I guess you could say everybody likes him, but he doesn't have any close friends."
"Any idea why?"
"Not a clue. Why are we talking about Judd?"
"He needs help, and I think you are just the guy to give it to him."
That sounded interesting. "What kind of help?" I asked.
"According to his English teacher, Mr. Howard, Judd's a very intelligent young man. But he's wound up in an art history course, and he's not doing well there at all. He says the teacher seems to be speaking a language of her own, that the other students seem to understand her, but that he's pretty much lost."
"Yeah, that'd be Ms. Burleigh. She's famous around the school for not liking jocks, so I'll bet she's not offering Judd any extra help."
"That's what Mr. Blount said, too."
"Oh, you've talked with Mr. Blount?"
"Yeah, he came by to see me recently."
"Now there's a hottie!"
"Louis, I don't think you and I should be talking about which of your teachers is hot."
"Dr. Pell, sir, don't shit me. It's been less than a week since you fucked me. What's wrong with comparing notes on a cute guy we both know?"
"I see your point. You think I'm being hypocritical. But this is all very awkward for me. On the one hand, you and I had wonderful sex last weekend, but on the other, I'm supposed to be something like a mentor for you, an advisor. But since you mentioned it, yes, Stuart Blount is a very attractive man. Too bad he's married."
"Oh, he's not married. His wife died a couple of years ago."
"Oh." Whitney looked like he found that information very interesting.
"So, what about Judd? You want me to help him with his art course, like tutor him or something?"
"Right. Would you be willing to do that?"
"Are you kidding? I'd love to spend some time with that hottie! You know, most of us who are interested in art take the art appreciation course before art history. If Judd had done that, he'd probably be okay in the course. So what he and I need to do is just go over some fundamental terms and concepts. And, man, will I enjoy gettin' fundamental and conceptual with Judd Thomas!"
"Louis, you'll have to be careful, you know. If Judd is straight, coming on to him might get you into a fight. Or you might scare him away. And the goal here is to help him."
"Yeah, I understand that. It's gonna be hard, but I'll do my best to behave." Then, when Whitney sniggered, I realized what I'd said. "Maybe I should have said `It's gonna be hard, but I'll do my best to hide it.'"
Whitney got up, came around the desk, and hugged me briefly. "Louis, I appreciate your willingness to help Judd. I'm sure he will, too. And I trust you to handle the whole situation with discretion. Maybe if you are cautious, you'll at least make a good friend out of this experience. Judd expects to go to college, and he can't afford a low grade in art in his senior year. I'm sure he'll be grateful for your help."
I grinned. "I wonder how grateful he'll be."
"You brat! Get out of here!" I picked up my bookbag and turned to leave.
"Oh, wait a minute. I've got your folder of watercolors. They're wonderfully delicate. Very different from the bold, dramatic photos you've shown me. I'm amazed by your talent and versatility."
I was too embarrassed to say anything, so I just stuck the folder into the bag, waved, and left.
"Bye, Louis," Miss Jean called after me as I left.
"Bye, ma'am," I answered.
I drove home with the top down, enjoying the cool October afternoon and looking forward to spending some time with Judd the stud.
After Louis left I did something that I should have done before then. I called Stafford High School, identified myself, and asked to speak with Ms. Burleigh. I was told she was in a meeting and asked if she could call me back. I gave the person on the other end my phone numbers, at Sunrise, my cell, and my home phone.
A half hour later Jean told me that Helen Burleigh was on the phone.
"Hello, Ms. Burleigh. I'm sorry we haven't met yet. How are things going so far this fall?"
"Very well, thank you, Dr. Pell. To what do I owe the honor of your call?"
"While we're talking I wanted to mention that I'd like to have a meeting with you and your art department colleagues to see how we at Sunrise can interface more effectively with your program."
"Oh, well, you'd have to talk with Ms. Crow, the head of the department, about that."
"I see. Well, thanks for that information."
"Is that all?"
"No, I really called to talk about Judd Thomas."
"What about him?"
"I understand he's not doing well in your course."
"I'm not sure I should be talking about one of my students with you."
"Well, I'm not trying to horn in, but I have talked with both Judd and Stuart Blount. Stuart and I thought perhaps Judd could use some extra help, say, from a student tutor."
"Judson needs all the help he can get, if you ask me, and you apparently are. Did you have a particular student in mind?"
"Yes, Louis Lefevre is willing to do it if it's okay with you. And, of course, I haven't said anything to Judd yet about Louis being his tutor."
"You say you talked with Stuart about all this?"
"Yes. He was here on another matter, and I just mentioned Judd's problem. By the way, has Judd mentioned to you that he wants to do his term paper on the sculpture of Bernini?"
"Yes, he's submitted that topic to me. I must say, I was surprised. Is that something you talked him into doing?"
"Not at all. Judd remembered seeing pictures of some of those pieces when he was here on a field trip a few years ago. He told me he found them fascinating. I suggested the topic, and he seemed pleased with the idea."
"Do you have any problem with Louis tutoring Judd?"
"No. Louis is a bright young man. Judson will be lucky to have his help. And I dare say he'll enjoy working with Judd." I didn't quite hear her snicker, but I think she was close.
I thanked her for her time and asked Jean to see if she could get Judd on the phone for me. She reported that he was at soccer practice.
"Would you please call his home and leave a message asking him to call me?"
When I got home from soccer practice one day, my mom said, "Honey, you got a phone call a few minutes ago."
"He said his name was Louis Lefevre. I wasn't sure about the last name, so I made him spell it. His number is on the pad by the phone."
"Thanks, Mom. Do I have time to call him before dinner?"
"Yes, dear. Your dad should be home soon, though, so don't talk too long. Who is this Louis? He seemed like a nice young man."
I kissed her cheek. "Smells like pot roast tonight. Yum. I know who Louis is, but I don't really know him. I guess I'd better see what he wants." I grabbed the post-it note from beside the phone, went to my room, and punched in the number on my cell.
"Hi, this is Louis."
"Hey, man, it's Judd. `Sup?"
"Hey, dude! Whitney Pell asked me to call. Like you could use some help with Ms. Burleigh's class?"
"I sure could. I'm really lost in there. You wouldn't mind? I, uh, think I could pay for some tutoring."
"Not necessary. We just need to set up a time we can get together."
"I've got soccer every afternoon and matches on Fridays."
"Shit, man. Everybody knows that you're the big man on the soccer team."
I think I blushed. I was glad he couldn't see me. "I wouldn't say that, but thanks."
"How about after supper? Got any evenings free?"
"If you're willing to help me, I'll meet with you any evening you say, except Fridays, of course."
"How about this evening?"
"Uh, yeah. I could come to your place, or you could come here."
"I got new wheels for my birthday and I'll take any excuse to drive my new baby. How about if I get to your house about 7:30? Is that too early?"
"No. Do you have my address?"
"Yep. No prob. I looked it up.
"Cool. Louis, thanks man."
"Like I said, no problem. See ya!"
`Well,' I thought, `there might be a problem.' The same problem I always have with a good-looking guy my age. Most of the students in art courses are either female or else sort of nerdy guys. I don't want to sound prejudiced, but that's just the way it is. When Dr. Pell suggested he might find me a tutor, I never thought of Louis. He was such a stud! He and I didn't really know each other except to say "hey" to, but I knew who he was. In fact, he'd been the subject of several of my j.o. fantasies. So now he was coming to my house. We'd be working together in my room.
At supper I explained to my folks who Louis was and why he was coming. Both of them were happy I was getting help. Dad said I should pay him. I told him I'd offered and he'd said no. Dad handed me a twenty and said to make the offer again.
When I excused myself from the table, I went to my room, where I took off my khakis and boxers, put on a jock that was a little too small, and then put the boxers and khakis back on. Maybe the jock would help with my problem.
When Judd met me at the door, he looked fabulous! He was wearing khakis and white socks, with a dark green tee and an unbuttoned button-up in a lighter green which was perfect with his eyes.
There was an awkward moment when he couldn't figure out what to do with our hands. Did we slap or touch fists or shake hands? We settled on shaking hands, which was probably right since we really didn't know each other. I knew that the soccer guys usually touched their fists together, but since I wasn't part of that group, I didn't think he'd appreciate that.
He seemed a little nervous, but he took me in, introduced me to his parents, who both seemed nice, and took me downstairs to his room. The Thomases had a kind of a big ranch-style house. Judd's room was in the basement, but since the lot slopes away from the street, there were sliding glass doors from it onto a patio.
"Cool! You've got lots of privacy."
"Yeah. That's what I like best about being down here."
I was carrying my backpack and he told me to put it down anywhere. He gestured for me to sit in a nice upholstered chair. He turned his computer chair around, straddled it with his arms on the backrest, and said, "Louis, I really appreciate this, man. If you can help me pass this course, you'll save my ass. Can I get you a coke or something'?"
"No, I'm good, thanks. And I'm glad to help. But look, before we go any farther, there's something I think I'd better tell you."
"Well, would it make any difference to you that I'm gay? I mean, it's not like I'm gonna come on to your or anything, but I thought you needed to know."
He sat there and looked right at me, but I couldn't read the expression on his face. Well, actually, there wasn't any expression on his face. He seemed to be thinking about how to answer me. He waited so long, finally I said, "Judd, talk to me, man!"
"Sorry, Louis. We're cool. It's okay with me. I was just thinking about the other guys on the team. How many people know you're gay?"
"I'm not generally out at school. I don't broadcast it or anything. I suppose some of the jocks think I'm gay just because I take lots of art courses and am good at something that isn't about sports. So if I can help you with Burleigh's class, that's great. But if you don't want people to know that we're working together, then it's your call. And I won't be pissed or anything."
"How could I be pissed, man? You're trying to help me. If the guys on the team don't like that, then fuck `em."
He grinned. "Damn sure."
We spent a while talking about the course he was taking and what his problems were. I grabbed my bag and took out a book.
"This is the text for the art ap. course. Your counselor should really have put you in there instead of art history. I know you probably won't have time to read the whole book, but you might want to browse through it and read sections that talk about things you're having trouble with. And there's a great glossary of terms in the back that might help a lot."
"Cool! I'll get busy with this over the weekend."
"Whitney said you had started your term paper. That's good. A lot of guys would wait until the last minute and try to put together something off the web. What's your topic?"
He turned around and took a book off his desk. "Have you ever heard of Bernini?"
"No, I don't think so."
He opened the book where there'd been a slip of paper and then handed the book to me.
"This guy did these sculptures, see, and I think they're beautiful."
`Beautiful? This was the leader of the soccer team? A hunky jock? Since when do guys like that use a word like "beautiful"?'
But they were. The Bernini dude had used the white marble to make you want to reach out and touch it. The guys who'd been the models all had fantastic bodies, and the way the light played on the curves and ripples in the marble was enough to give anybody a hardon. But, wait a minute! What was a straight jock like Judd doing choosing these really very sexy statues as the subject for a term paper? Interesting.
I asked him what his handle was going to be on the topic. He knew right away what I meant, so he was good in English even if he was a newbie in art.
"Ms. Burleigh said our papers could be straight historical/biographical. So I'm gonna try to write about the period in Bernini's life when he was making these statues."
"Have you found any sources other than this book?"
"Oh, yeah. I've got a couple of books from the school library, I've found some more at Sunrise, and I used Google to find this list of things." He pointed to a printout on his desk.
"Sounds like you're in business. How can I help?"
"Louis, as far as the paper, I think I just needed somebody to tell me I was on the right track. And I'd like to show you my notes and first draft when I get them ready, okay?"
God he was cute! "Okay, sure."
"But where I really need help is getting the art terms and concepts straight in my mind. I'll look at your book and maybe jot down some questions about things I don't understand. Then when we get together again, I'll probably have a bunch of questions for you."
"Judd, if we're going to be working together, we should get to know each other a little, don't you think?"
I had thought I was attracted to Whitney. Let me say that over. I WAS attracted to Whitney. He'd made it clear he'd be my friend, but there wouldn't be any more sex between us. And this boy sitting there smiling at me was fuckin' gorgeous!
"Yeah, I suppose so. Matter of fact, I'd like that. Wanna tell me about yourself?"
"There's not all that much to tell. I've lived in Stafford since I was four. I went to Henry Clay Middle School before I came to Stafford High. My dad's a doctor. I like art. I can draw and paint okay, and I'm a better than average photographer. That's about it."
"I don't think so. I think you're too modest. Word around school is that you're really good and that you're a sure thing for a scholarship to some art school."
I could feel myself blushing, but of course he couldn't tell. I could also feel some stirrings down below, so I crossed my legs hoping he wouldn't notice. "So tell me about you."
He grinned. "I'm the one that doesn't have much to tell. I was born here in Stafford, went to South Middle School. I love to play soccer. I do okay in most of my subjects – except art – and that's about it.
We talked a little while longer about things that weren't important. He was nice, easy to be with, but he seemed to be keeping something back.
We agreed to get together again the following Monday night.
"Do you have wheels?" I asked.
"Why don't you come to my house Monday, and you can meet my folks."
"I guess that's fair. Wanna tell me how to get there?"
I did. Then he walked upstairs with me and to the front door. He stepped outside.
"I wanna see your new wheels, man."
I pushed the button on the fob and my Black Beauty lighted up. "Wow, a ragtop! That's cool, Louis!"
"Wanna take a little ride before I go home?"
"Sure, why not? Let me go tell my folks."
He was back in a minute. We got in the Sebring and drove around for a while. I offered to stop someplace for something to eat. He said that sounded good, so we went to a Burger King and had -- what else? -- burgers. I can't remember what we talked about, but it was very easy, comfortable, being with Judd. He wasn't at all stuck up about being the star of the soccer team. He was just an ordinary guy.
He offered again to pay me for helping him. When I refused again, he insisted on paying for our food, so I let him.
When we pulled into the drive at his place, he put his hand on my shoulder for a minute. "Louis, you're an okay dude. Thanks for coming over tonight. Thanks for being willing to help me with my art class."
Then, as if he felt he'd done something wrong, he pulled his hand away.
"So, see ya Monday night at your place, okay?"
"Yeah, see ya then."
As I drove home, I was humming something. I was pretty sure Judson Thomas was gay. He obviously wasn't ready to admit it to me yet, but I hoped he would soon. Bernini nude sculptures? Come on! Besides, I think from the bulge in his khakis he was half hard all evening.
In bed that night I beat off thinking about what his hot soccer-stud body must look like.
Wow! Louis is so cute! I wanted to tell him I'm gay, too. I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I wanted to tell him about Tom, my buddy who moved away a year and a half ago, the buddy I'd learned about boy sex with and thought I loved. I wanted to tell him what two of my team mates said to me when Tom moved away. And I could have told him what hell it is to be gay and have to be in the locker room and the showers with all those hot guys and not throw wood. Especially since I was more or less "on probation" with them anyway. I really did want to tell him I was like him. But my life at school and in Stafford would be over if anyone knew. The guys on the team would have killed me.
Even when I'd told him I didn't care if the guys found out he was my tutor and he was gay, I'd been stretching the truth. `But,' I thought, `what the hell? I've gotta get a decent grade in art. And next year I'll be in college. Soccer season's half over. So I'll take the help from Louis. Maybe nothing else will happen.'
Louis' face was so expressive. He smiled a lot, but he also could look at you like you were the most important person in the world right then. His eyes were practically black, but they sparkled. And they were so sexy.
How was I going to be in his room or mine, working with him, being close to him a couple of times a week for the rest of the term?
When I went into the house after saying goodbye to Louis, my folks were sitting there reading.
"Do you think Louis can really help you get a better grade in your art class?" Mom asked.
"Yes, ma'am. I'm sure he can. He knows so much about it. That's what he's going to study in college, you know. And I don't think Dr. Pell would have gotten us together if he hadn't been pretty sure Louis could help me."
"Well, he seems like a nice boy. I think he might be a good friend to have."
"Yeah, I think so too. I'm going down to bed. Good night."
"Good night, dear," my mom said.
"'Nite, son," my dad echoed.
I wasn't really sleepy, but I got undressed, got into bed, and lay there thinking about Louis. Before long, I reached down and grabbed my hard pecker.
To be continued