Where there's Will, There's a Way
Copyrightę 2012 -- Nicholas Hall
Where there's Will, There's a Way -- Chapter Thirteen- "Never does the human soul appear so strong and noble as when it foregoes revenge and dares forgive an injury." (E. H. Chapin)
Tassels bobbing, heads wagging to and fro, anticipation, excitement, relief on the faces of the marchers, all heralded the beginning of mid-year graduation and presentation of the diplomas at the University. Bachelor's degree candidates, in black caps and gowns, were first in the line-up, followed by the gaily, brightly colored hoods adorning the gowns of the masters' degree candidates, and, with the hooded, sleeved gowns, decorated in colors of each area of study, candidates for doctoral degrees the next in the line. Trooping behind all of this were those members of the faculty who chose to attend and march, gowned in their academics. The music, provided by the university orchestra was the traditional "Pomp and Circumstance," played, it seems, at all graduation ceremonies from high school to university levels. Once at our seats, someone mumbled something from the stage and we sat.
I looked around, searching the bleachers for Will, Charlie, and Nanna. I could hardly miss them; they held a large home-made sign that read "We love you, Jay," that some fat lady made them put down so she could see, but I acknowledged their love with a wave. Will responded with a smile and a tossed kiss. Would he ever stop being the little brother I raised and loved? I doubt it, although he and Charlie were tight and I was pleased. Charlie would be there for Will in good times and bad and Will would return that love with his own love and devotion.
I was so damned happy to make it this far, since my fiasco of a meeting with Dr. Eric Young; fearful he'd fail me. I was on pins and needles until Doc Henderson called me a week later informing me I was good to go for graduation, but questioned the "C" I received from Dr. Young. I unloaded my story on him, telling him how Young wouldn't accept my explanation for missing the final and his refusal to allow me to take it. I refrained from telling him of Young's reference to me as "common whore" and my retaliatory comments to him. Winding down, finishing my tale of woe, Doc Henderson paused a moment and said "Oh" and rang off.
Sitting there, waiting for each speaker to finish and the music to conclude, without looking, I knew Young was there, in the audience, amidst the faculty, behind me. I had this nagging, prickly, hair-tingling sensation, real or otherwise, lurking on the back of my neck as I sensed him staring at me. I dared not turn around and seek him out for fear of confirming my suspicions, so I sat quietly, enduring the feelings I had. He wouldn't be easy to forget, but I'd be starting my new job in another week and I looked forward to it. The salary and benefits would exceed what I made part-time as a "companion" so there'd be no transition to a lower salary. I could still continue to "employ" Nanna to help us out, although we agreed to continue her services on a cash basis.
The auditorium was warm this winter after noon; I should suppose heated by all of the bodies encased within it, along with the hot air being spewed by the various speakers on the stage. I, along with the others, waited patiently for the diplomas to be awarded. The applause lingered but just a moment, as the last speaker concluded his remarks, the class was presented by the Chancellor to the Board of Regents, and the presentation of the diplomas began.
Each row of candidates stood, as prompted by the usher, and began the march to the stage. Each of us carried the little identification card with our name, degree, and major printed on it, to give to the reader, and when read, step forward, receive the diploma, shake the proffered hands, flip our tassel to the other side of our mortar board, and return to our chair where we took our seat while another row paraded to the front.
I sat quietly, after receiving mine, listening to the names being read, looked at my diploma and, although I felt joy, relief, and a sense of accomplishment, I still felt somewhat unfulfilled, wanting, at odds with myself, out of sorts. Six years of hard work, studying, maintaining my grades while providing for Will and myself, seeing him through more than one crisis, and now, I faced new challenges, a new job, a different life, more financial resources than before, but alone. Other than those three seating in the bleachers who applauded vociferously when my name was read causing more than one head to turn when Will shouted, "I love you, big brother," reminding me that it was all worth it, I had no one else in my life.
Dr. Young attempted to inflict grievous mental harm and guilt on me, but I refused it, instead deciding to move forward. Yet, those clinging to the memories of him, thrusting deeply inside me and me in him, remained. They were pleasant thoughts, but still overshadowed by his spurning me in his office. I wouldn't find peace with myself until I made my peace with him. I vowed, after the ceremony, if I should see Dr. Young, I'd speak to him and apologize for my behavior in his office.
The diplomas were eventually all awarded, the orchestra played the recessional, and we marched out, led by the faculty. Reaching the lobby area, I spotted Doc Henderson and Dr. Young in apparent thoughtful, but serious conversation off to one side of the lobby.
"Better now than never," I murmured, half-aloud, and walked straight away toward them.
Doc Henderson greeted me with a broad smile, a hearty handshake, and a most sincere and heartfelt "Congratulations." His greeting was most appreciated and needed a response, which wouldn't be adequate, but I had to try.
"Doc Henderson," I began, "I owe you more than I can ever repay and ..."
He cut me off, "Pshaw, lad, you earned it all and deserved everything you received and then some. Your future is bright and you'll do well."
I turned my attention to Dr. Young, "Dr. Young, I am truly sorry we parted under such hostile circumstances and regret doing so, so please accept my apology."
He was about to respond when a happy voice behind me, brought me about to face a suddenly slow moving Will and his entourage, coming toward me.
"Jay," he said, "wait for me." Of course I'd wait for him, we were going nowhere at the moment.
Reaching my sided, smile adorning his face, he suddenly became shy, clasped my hand, and leaned into me for protection, as he did when faced with strangers or a situation he was uncertain of, noting as he did so, he was nearly as tall as me.
Doc Henderson smiled warmly at him and asked, "How's that sore tummy doing, Will?"
Will put his head down and shyly responded, "Better, but it still hurts a little."
Nanna and Charlie stood quietly, until I gave Will a bit of a nudge, saying "Why don't you introduce our friends?"
Will, stood a little taller, smiled broadly and said, pointing at Charlie, "This is my friend, Charlie and his grandma, my Nanna."
Nanna quickly added, "Mrs. Bonnie Fuller."
Doc Henderson, by way of reciprocity, turned to colleague, saying, "My colleague, Dr. Eric Young."
Nanna didn't smile at him, merely nodded her head in a polite manner, pierced into his very inner self with her eyes, assessing him, judging him, and found him presently lacking something, and he knew it, turning red with embarrassment. He knew that she knew, what he and I both knew and really didn't know how to handle it.
The day of my final, returning to the hospital, I tried my very best to maintain "a stiff upper lip" as the British say, but Nanna saw through it immediately. Taking me outside the room, leaving Will in Charlie's capable and caring hands, she walked with me to a small visitors lounge, where, with very little urging, I poured my heart and story out to her -- except for one little minor detail.
"You fell in love with him, didn't you?" she added to my story.
Nodding my head in acknowledgement, I responded with a shaky voice, "God help me, I did, Nanna. I don't know how or why, it was just the one night. I really felt he was special, kind, and loving; now I find he's really a mean, vicious, son-of-a-bitch."
Nanna looked at me, after my declaration that Dr. Eric Young was a son-of-a-bitch, and prodded carefully, "Perhaps he fell in love with you and this is his way of forcing himself to cut off the relationship he thought he'd have with you, not wanting to admit what's in his heart and is in denial. At any rate, Jay, you must move on, make your peace with him, wipe the dust from your shoes, and travel on down the road. You're good looking, bright, and talented, it sounds like, so someone, somewhere will sweep you off of your feet."
I started to say something, but she held up a hand, saying, "Stop, right there; Will's going to be just fine. He has Charlie and Charlie has him and if you think I can't see there're in love, you're blind. Charlie will never let anything or anyone harm Will, you know that from the incident with the "NAUGHTY BOY."
We both laughed, remembering Will's indignation and his coordinated attack with Charlie on the bully. The tension was eased for me and I vowed to make peace with Dr. Young.
Before the situation became untenable, I announced, "There's a little supper club I'd heard about that broils great steaks," to Dr. Young and Doc Henderson as we stood in the lobby of the auditorium, "and we're out of here to celebrate."
The four of us bid our goodbyes and Nanna and I followed Will and Charlie, who held hands, to car. I was always careful not to go places I frequented with clients, not fearful I'd be recognized, but reluctant to expose any former dates to embarrassment. There were those few times when the inevitable happened, but like two ships passing in the night, there was never an overt sign of recognition.
The supper club had a piano player providing background dinner music and for the entertainment of the guests. He looked about college age and was really quite good. As he played the boys kept looking at each other, acting as though they were up to something -- sharing a secret they didn't want Nanna or me to discover. I cast a puzzled, questioning look at Nanna, but evidently she didn't share my suspicions, appearing oblivious to what was happening, leaving me to think I was imagining demons and dragons where none existed.
The piano player took a break and Charlie announced, "I have to go to the bathroom. How about you Will?"
Will nodded and they both headed toward the back where the necessary facilities were located. During the lull from the piano playing, the absence of the boys, and the wait for our orders to arrive, my thoughts returned to my date with Dr. Eric Young.
My last date, just before I retired as a "companion" with the Cockaigne Agency, was the result of a personal contact by Doc Henderson with me. This was quite unusual, since in the past, all arrangements for a "date" were made by e-mail on my lap-top. He met me at a small restaurant not far from campus, and as he put it, "Jay, there are two things I wanted to discuss with you. One, the Agency approved your appointment as an accountant after you graduate and, two, there's been a special request from friends of the Agency- very powerful friends, for our best lad. It's to be a special treat and surprise for someone -- a young man, about your age, from what I understand. Although he's gay, he's yet to experience the affection and ministrations of another man. I assured them we'd do our very best to provide him with a memorable experience. I'm empowered to offer you an additional one thousand dollars if you'll take this assignment. You are, you know, one of our very best lads and the Agency will dearly miss those particular talents you possess, so naturally, I thought of you for this job."
Would I take it? Does a fat frog fart? Does a pudgy puppy poop? You bet I'd take it; the rewards were too great to pass up. The extra cash was more than welcome, but the announcement of long-term employment with the Agency was fantastic, providing security, a steady income, and a future for Will and me. It'd be the culmination of all we'd struggled for and finally achieved.
Young was the only client whose name I received in advance of the date. There was no profile concerning him, no likes, dislikes, favorite foods, music -- nothing! This'd be a first for me and, evidently, a first for him in more ways than one. As Lee Williams, I met him at a very upscale and fashionable Milwaukee motel, left his car, hired a cab, and began an evening designed to entertain him and prepare him for the main event.
He was a quiet, very handsome man, certainly not the "football hero" type, but more of a "runner" type -- slim, trim. About my height and weight, light brown hair, and blue, sparkling eyes that twinkled. When he smiled, he displayed a set of white, evenly formed teeth accentuated by moist, inviting lips. He was, by far, the best looking and most genteel date I'd encountered in my years with the Agency. Somewhat shy, hesitant, uncertain what to do, he opted to allow me to make subtle hints concerning our activities and seemed most comfortable with me doing so. He really didn't seem to be the dominant type, but yet not the subservient type either. I thought I could detect steeliness underneath, strength of determination and persistence, an unwillingness to "give up the quest" he embarked on until either success or failure was met.
Our evening began with dinner at a very popular, upscale restaurant in the downtown area followed by a live theatre performance, then back to the motel lounge, where we quietly sipped our night caps before retiring to our room. I thoroughly enjoyed our conversation during the entire evening; he was quick, witty, intelligent, and cultured. From his reactions, it appeared he enjoyed my contributions to the dialogue as well. Not once did he mention what he did for a living, where he was from, whether or not he had family in the area, and was very adept at steering the conversation away from the subject. He knew no more about me, other than my name was "Lee Williams" and wouldn't know any more.
In our suite, he stood, shuffling his feet, hands behind his back, shy, and finally said softly, "I don't know what to do next."
Placing a finger on his soft lips, I smiled, nuzzled his neck, sending shivers down his body, and whispered seductively in his ear, "Then, relax, let me do it and enjoy. This's all for you."
Slowly, I slipped off his suit jacket, carefully hung it over the back of a chair, laying mine across the seat of the same chair, removed his tie while pressing my crotch forward to contact his, feeling him start to strengthen and grow, then, draping my tie and his across my shoulder, using my right hand, began unbuttoning his shirt while my left index finger lightly traced a line up his left arm, brushing the hairs on his arms ever so delicately, bringing a moan of "Oh, my God" from him.
As his chest, hairless and trim, came into view, I puffed little breathes of my warm, moist air across the exposed portions, moving closer, gently tapping my tongue down his sternum in short, sensuous, little punctuation marks. Wanting to free all buttons, rather than just pulling the shirt from the entrapment of the waist of his pants, I inserted my hand down the pants front behind the belt, slipping low enough I touched the boxers enclosing his cock, brushed a finger slowly across it's elevated head, bring a slight dampness to its cotton prison, and continued unbuttoning his shirt. Young leaned forward, placing his head on my shoulder, overcome with the treatment thus far. I removed his shirt and mine, returned his head to my shoulder, while I held him close to me, murmuring, "Try not to cum too soon, we still have the greatest part of a wonderful evening ahead of us."
Young barely nodded, took a deep breath, and gently kissed my neck. Taking this as a sign to move on, I moved my mouth to his and began tasting those delicate, sweet lips. He moaned again, clutched me tightly, his arms around me, pulling me into a passionate embrace, opening his mouth so our tongues could begin a mutual exploration of each other, dancing about tasting the delectability of the other. Lost in the moment, he hardly realized I'd loosed his belt, dropped his zipper, and allowed his pants to cascade to the floor, collecting around his ankles.
Stepping back for a moment, I whispered, "Kick off your shoes and step out of your pants."
Giving him a light peck on his nose, eyes, and lips, I placed his hands on my shoulders and began caressing my lips south, reaching his nipples. I licked and suckled each, bringing them to a tautness, eliciting another, "Oh, my God!" from him. My lips continued on their southern journey, nuzzling his solar plexus, down to his navel where my tongue brushed around the outside before slipping inside that slight indentation with acrobatic skill, twirling, flipping, tantalizing him, before exiting down until I encountered the waistband of his boxers.
His hands, still on my shoulders, quivered with excitement and anticipation as my own hands slowly inched those cotton encumbrances down, releasing a very nicely formed, just above average-sized, twitching, circumcised penis. It was a beauty, but I wouldn't take it just yet. Instead, I moved my exploring lips through the light bush at its root, sliding my nose around the throbbing member and down into his lower groin, under it, sweeping each of his baby makers with my tongue. Using the very tip of my tongue, beginning at the scrotum, slowly swept it up the underside to the swelling head, took a quick lick of the oozing slit, and gently sucked just the head into my warm, inviting mouth.
I felt him shudder and squeak, "Oh, shit, I'm cumming," and he unloaded a very sweet and substantial offering into my oral cavity.
Relieving him of the remnants of his ejaculation by gently vacuuming with my tongue and mouth, he began apologetically, "I didn't mean to; I'm so sorry," but I hushed him with "no problem" and led him to the bed. Stretching him out, his stiffness wilting after his orgasm, I stood near his face and slowly, seductively unbuckled my own pants and dropped them to the floor, all the while riveting my eyes to his, catching from the corner of my eye, renewed tumescence as he dropped his eyes to my crotch. I purposely wore a pair of yellow, string bikinis, accentuating my natural olive brown skin color, knowing it would catch his eye and draw his attention to my ample basket. My thumbs hooked the side bands and, with the experience of many years and many such encounters, wriggled the briefs down past my own growing cock and low hanging balls.
Young slowly shook his head in disbelief, remarking, "Lee, you're the most beautiful creature I've ever seen. Next to you, Michelangelo's `David' is a mere piker; Paris, son of Priam, lover of Helen of Troy, was a small boy playing house, and; for you, Aphrodite would weep."
Laying on top of him, covering his nakedness with mine, meshing his lips with mine and slowly rotating my crotch with his so our stiffness encountered and massaged each other, I felt the time was right to take it up a notch. I reached forward to the night stand, retrieved a foil packaged condom and lubricant, then removed the foil and deftly unrolled it on his pulsing shaft. I placed a good dollop of lube on his ready, steely rod, slicked it up and down and all over it, and used the remainder on my own entrance. Guiding him to the portal of my inner self, slowly lowered myself, inserting him a little at a time into my experienced chute until my ass cheeks rested on his pubes, my balls resting in his bush.
Eyes widening, he smiled saying "That feels absolutely wonderful, marvelous," and began a few gently thrusts upward.
"Easy now," I cautioned, flexing my anal ring, gripping him and milking him as a farm boy would squeeze the teats of a freshened milk cow. Leaning forward, I engaged his mouth with mine, moving my arms behind him, I slowly rolled him over until he was on top, and my legs were wrapped around his waist, letting him feel in control of our coupling.
He was so unlike most first-timers I'd encountered in my career, those who thrust and poke in and out rapidly and expend their energy and orgasm, thinking they enjoyed the full experience -- until I'd take charge, and then it became a different story for them. No, he moved slowly, carefully, seeming to want to prolong the pleasure, his first experience with another man; an experience he wanted indelibly imprinted in his mind for reliving at his leisure. More in the manner of an experienced fencer, using his sword to thrust and parry and thrust again, stepping back, resting a moment, and renewing his skilled, persistent duel with his opponent. But this was not a duel nor was his sword a rapier, but a deliciously, well-formed, stiff attachment to his body. Leaning forward, burying his face in the crook of my neck, he sighed, "Never in a hundred years did I ever dream something such as this would happen to me!" and began his ride to Mayberry Fair once again.
All good things must come to an end as I felt him began to quicken his pace, I matched his deep penetration with the flexing of my inner muscles and as he groaned his pleasure, brought him to fruition as the "showers from heaven" overcame him, pulsing, spewing, enlarging the receptacle tip of the latex condom inside me.
Young settled forward, resting on my stomach and chest, my arms tight around him as he dozed in post-orgasmic bliss. I could smell him, his sweat mixed with his cologne, after-shave, and his own unique marking scent. God, I loved it!
Sleeping, perhaps an hour, he woke, gently kissed me on the lips and asked, "Would you do me please?" I started to protest that the night was for him, but he insisted, wanting to experience what it was like to be on the receiving end. I carefully explained the preparations we'd make, stretching the anal ring to accommodate me, and the pain which might accompany the first time another man entered where none dared journey before. He was understanding, but persistent, eager, so I obliged.
Everything completed in preparation, the moment of truth arrived. He wanted to be on his back, so I took my position between his legs, maneuvered my cock-head until it encountered his sphincter, and began the journey. Surprisingly, the head slipped in with more ease than I expected, not without difficulty, but in it went, bringing a slight grimace to his face, but no utterance from his lips. Slowly, imperceptive, I advanced the length of me and seated myself, letting his balls rest on my bush as I let him become accustomed to me.
I than began those magical motions of the ions, but different from those he used since I brushed his love button each time I rocked forward and back. The first stimulation of it brought a squeal of joy from him and I knew he loved it then and always would. Again, each race must come to an end and soon, it was my turn to unleash and unleash, I did, bringing about a minor climax from him in the process.
As dawn neared and, as in all fairy tales, coaches turn into pumpkins and white horses change into mice, we did each other again. Laying on me, Eric Young remarked, "This night, you, was a birthday gift from dear friends of mine. It was a birthday present I'll never forget."
The boys still hadn't returned when the lighting on the small stage where the piano rested came on and instead of the piano player who had vacated it previously, Charlie was seated on the bench and Will was astride a stool beside it, facing the audience.
Charlie, tickling the ivories with soft background music, announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, we apologize for this change in part of the entertainment for the evening, but this is a very special night for someone in the audience we love and would like to play and sing for him."
Will held a card and began reading slowly, "My brother graduated from college today. I know it was hard on him, because when Momma died, he took care of me- chased away my bad dreams, dried my tears, and told me I could do things when other people said I couldn't. I love him so much!" and lay the card down on the piano. I know reading that little speech was difficult for him, but was amazed as he and Charlie began to sing a duet; not one but two songs. Their voices blended, enriching each other, complimenting and ringing clearly as two, but one. I couldn't tell you what songs they sang, since the tears fell freely from my face, unashamed and so, so proud of the gift Charlie and Will gave me for my graduation. Charlie must've spent hours with Will rehearsing and helping him memorize the songs. I knew Will could sing, but never had I heard him perform as he did tonight. His pitch, tone, rhythm was spot on. Finished, they stood together, took a small bow to the applause of an enthusiastic audience and returned to our table.
Quite a night, if I do say so myself.
To be continued.
Thank you for reading "Where there's Will, There's a Way" Chapter Thirteen- "Never does the human soul appear so strong and noble as when it foregoes revenge and dares forgive an injury." (E. H. Chapin)
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