Date: Fri, 28 Sep 2018 11:32:23 -0400
From: Bill <mgtbill@aol.com>
Subject: DYLAN'S SENIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE Chapter  12

DYLAN'S SENIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE

Chapter  12

by  Donny Mumford


After my shower, I'm standing in the bedroom dripping water on the floor
while finishing up a phone conversation with Rob. He wants to know if it's
okay to invite the rookie ballplayer, who he's mentoring for dinner. As if
I'd say 'no'.

The kid's roommate was expelled from Merrimack two days after meeting him
so now the phenom doesn't know anyone else on campus. Well, boo hoo, that's
the exact situations almost all freshmen find themselves in. Most aren't
the latest baseball phenom who has his own mentor though. What I'd like to
know is what the hell that ex-roommate did to get himself expelled. He may
have broken a world's record getting himself thrown out of college as a
freshman before the first official day of classes. His parents must be very
proud.

I finish drying myself wondering what to have for dinner. It's a Friday
night so why not something easy like burgers or maybe order out for a
couple of pizzas. Nah, it's only our second dinner here and way too soon to
fall back on the quick-fix of pizza. We had steaks last night so I could do
a quick and easy chicken dinner. Everyone likes chicken on the grill,
right?

Putting on a t-shirt and cargo jeans I look in the mirror to comb my hair
and, oh fuck, Robby's right. I do need a haircut but I already knew
that. It's just that I'm sick of hearing about it from him. Whether Rob
realizes it or not, he's mimicking his Dad's propensity for nagging about
this exact topic. Omigod, what's Rob going to be like when we're married?

Yeah well, truth be told I'm not totally sold on marriage but it's not
because I don't think we should live together. I want to do that but I'm
not so sure about the need to get legally married. I'm simply not a 'fan'
of us gay guys mimicking heterosexual mating rituals just because we live
in a state where we can. Heh heh, I must admit though that two male figures
on top of the wedding cake is a cute idea and I guess both of us standing
in front of the minister with our best men would be cool too; an all-male
wedding party! It's just that almost everyone invited to witness the
ceremony would most likely be hetero and, I don't know, I hate the thought
of them pretending it's just like the last wedding they went to.

If Rob has his heart of hearts set on being married though, maybe a justice
of the peace would be something I could tolerate by just inviting immediate
family and a few close gay friends. Yeah, that could work. Anyway, I read
online that fifty percent of American marriages end in divorce anyway,
which must be a huge pain in the ass for those people. Just saying...

And how the fuck did my mind wander to thoughts of marriage? I went from
being annoyed at Rob for nagging me to get a haircut to throwing 'shade' at
gay marriage when, generally speaking, I'm not against gay marriage! As a
matter of fact, I'm one-hundred percent in favor of it for any and all gays
who want to get married. It's just that I'm developing a differing opinion
on the matter as it relates to me. As for everyone else on the planet they
outta do whatever they fucking wanna do assuming they're able to do it, and
it doesn't do harm to themselves or others. Who would argue with that? Ha,
unfortunately, there are people who would say... oh, never mind. I'm not
going there.

In the kitchen, while taking chicken breasts out of the freezer my cell
phone rings. I touch my pants pocket as a reflex action because that's
where I usually have my cell phone. Hmmm, it's not there and the ringing is
very faint so, um, where the hell is my phone?

Okay, it sounds like the ringing is coming from the bedroom so I go there
and look around. Ah ha! My pants are on the floor where I dropped them
before my shower and my cell phone is in one of the pockets. Oh jeez! A
damn good thing I came in here because Rob would have had a heart attack
seeing my clothes thrown around the floor like this. I get my phone and
look at the caller ID: it's Danny.

While picking up my clothes and tossing them in the hamper, I answer the
call saying, "Holy shit, it's Danny Monday! Hi, hottie," and Danny says,
"Is that you, Dylan?" After a second's hesitation, I go, "Um, well, yes
Danny, it's me talking on my cell phone. Who the fuck else would it be?"
Ignoring that, he's like, "Good, it's you!" I wonder who he expected would
answer my phone? He goes, "Baseball practice is over," and I go, "Uh huh,"
and then he says real fast, "Um, so is it okay if come for dinner again
tonight? The dining hall blows 'cause they're not at full strength yet and
my roommate, Specks, went home to Worcester for the weekend and I don't
want to eat alone." Whew, he said all that in like two seconds!

I go, "Oh, I thought you were calling to arrange for me to do your flattop
haircut." Silence for a second and then he ignores that too, and asks,
"What about dinner, babe. Ya know, if it's not too much trouble, ah, or I
guess..." I cut off his mumbling, saying, "Of course you can have dinner
with us but why would you need to eat alone? I mean, you know
every-fucking-body in the senior class." He goes, "Whaddaya talking about?
There are only certain guys I'd want to eat dinner with!" I'm like,
"Whatever. Hey, I thought your roommate had a different name than what you
just said." He goes, "Yeah, his name is Carl Hill but he told me everyone
calls him, 'Specks'." I go, "So he wears glasses, huh?" and Danny goes,
"How the hell would you know that? He didn't have glasses on when you met
him." Rolling my eyes, I mutter, "Just a wild guess. You say I met him?"
Danny ignores that too, and asks, "What time should I come over?"

We discuss 'timing' briefly and Danny tells me he'd like to shower before
coming over which I encourage him to do. I tell him to come over whenever
he's ready after his shower. It's not until we end the call that I think:
'Why'd he call me when Rob's right there at practice with him?'

It's getting chilly outside so I put a sweatshirt over my t-shirt and I've
been wearing Ryan Wilcox's old Merrimack baseball cap all summer so that
goes on my head. And now I'm out the door on my way to pick up Rob and his
redheaded freshman mentoree, or protege, or whatever it is you're supposed
to call someone being mentored... mentee perhaps?

Going downstairs to the front door of the building I wonder... huh, why did
I adopt Ryan's old hat as my favorite? I have lots of baseball-type caps so
why this one? There's probably some deep psychological reason for that, one
that my brain is suppressing. Or it could be I like this hat best because
it fits my head best. Yeah, it's probably one of those two possibilities,
or maybe something else.

As I'm driving, Rob texts me to say the practice is over which I already
knew from Danny's call and I can't text Rob back because I'm driving. While
turning into the campus entrance it occurs to me, not that it really
matters all that much, that the redheaded freshman is also named Carl so
it's convenient that Danny's roommate, Carl Hill, has the nickname,
Specks. That'll help avoid confusion all year.

Driving all the way down to the entrance of the ballpark and idling there,
I look for Robby among all the guys talking and goofing around outside the
ballpark's main entrance. I don't see Danny either but he probably walked
from here to his dorm so maybe that's why he didn't ask Rob about
dinner. Yeah, but he could have texted Rob. Oh, I don't know, but ya never
know what's up with Danny.

Anyway, I can see that Rob's not one of the guys milling around outside and
I don't see a redhead so I gotta move the pickup truck. I can't stay in
this 'no parking or idling' zone any longer without getting yelled at. What
could those two gay guys possibly be doing in the locker room when everyone
else is outside the ballpark? Hmmm, maybe they're in one of the toilet
stalls, they could maybe be... haha. I'm kidding!

Well fuck, I need to back up to the intersection so I do that and then
drive into a parking lot. As I'm walking back down to the ballpark a tall
goofy-looking guy yells, "Yo, Dylan, wassup?" I give him a big smile and
wave, yelling back at him, "Omigod, they let you back again this year,
huh?" He laughs and yells something I can't quite make out but I grin and
wave anyway. Jesus, I don't believe I've ever seen that person before in my
life. He's not done yelling though.

I can't hear him so, smiling to appear like I know who he is, I yell over,
"What was that?" and he walks a little closer, saying, "I said, I saw Rob a
minute ago. He was talking with Coach Bower." I couldn't hear him at first
because there are many loud-mouth jocks between us. Nodding, I shout,
"Thanks!" I wouldn't know Coach Bower from Santa Claus so that information
isn't a lot of help. I keep walking to my right until I'm able to just
skirt the outside of the group at the entrance hoping to avoid further
contact with the stranger for fear he may want to talk more to me. It's
embarrassing not remembering who he is.

Standing here by myself I'm beginning to feel like a geek with no
friends. Like a dufus jock-sniffer loitering around the ballplayers hoping
for an autograph or something. Fuck that, so I pull my cell phone out as a
prop. Huh, since I have my phone in my hand, what the hell, I call Chubby
and, surprise! Yeah, he answers. He goes, "Dylan! What are you up to, bro?
How's everything going? You okay?" Oh man, I love hearing his voice. It's
such a safe feeling knowing he's close by.

Smiling, I'm like, "Yeah, I'm fine, Chub. You wanna come for dinner
tonight?" He goes, "Can't do it tonight, Dylan. Friday night's my date
night, bro! Can I have a rain check?" I go, "Of course," and he says, "Your
voice, um, what's wrong?" Is something wrong?" Jeez, I don't think
anything's wrong, so I say, "No, not really. I'm in this crowd of
ballplayers, um, no real problem though. Yeah, I'm good. How about you?"

I drift a little further away from the loud group of ballplayers because
now there's maybe twenty-five jocks out here goofing on each other and it's
getting harder to hear Chubby. He says, "Awesome! That's how I'm doing!
Well, except I've got two horrendous professors that need to be replaced
immediately. I mean, replace the two courses. No problem though, I'm all
over the process of switching courses." I go, "Oh, hey, why don'cha take
the History of Rock and Roll course, Chub. We can be in the same class." He
goes, "Oh fuck, that's the perfect cupcake course for sure! Unfortunately,
I had that course sophomore year and, as a matter of fact, I tried to take
it again last year. Ya know, for another quick four easy credits. Didn't
work out even though I signed up using my middle name, like I was a
different person, ya know? That cunt counselor, Ms. Perdergrass, saw right
through it." I go, "Oh, um, huh?"

He tells me a few funny examples, probably exaggerated beyond belief, of
what's wrong with the two professors and then he says, "Oops, there's a
beep on my phone, Dylan. See, that's why I hate bringing my cell phone with
me; people call me on it. If it weren't for your calls, bro, I don't think
I'd ever carry a cell phone." I'm like, "Yeah, but for emergencies..." and
he goes, "No sweat! Everyone has a cell phone so if I needed to make a call
I could borrow one, ya know?" I go, "Um, yeah," and then I see Robby and
his redheaded freshman walking out the front entrance.

Chub's yelling at someone in the room with him, but as soon as I get the
chance, I go, "Okay then, Chub, dinner at the apartment real soon; maybe
tomorrow night. And I hope you get your courses straightened out." He
laughs, "I don't expect to have any problems with that. This babe I'm
taking out tonight works part-time in administration... or some such shit
like that. Maybe she knows someone who works in the office, I forget. You
take care, Dylan! I love you, bro." I go, "You too, Chub," and as I'm
putting my phone in my pocket Robby pats my back, saying, "Dylan, meet Carl
Snowdon," and then he adds, "Carl, this is my roommate and boyfriend, Dylan
Newman." Oh, Carl's a hand-shaker; he's holding his hand out. That's
becoming a lost art, shaking hands I mean. I interpret his hand movement
correctly though and shake hands with him as we say almost simultaneously,
"Nice to meet ya."

It's awkward for a second so Carl says, "You two guys are the first, um,
gay couple I've ever met. I had no clue Rob was gay until he told me he
was." Glancing at Rob, I go, "Ya don't say." This kid is obviously nervous;
he babbled out that last absurd comment while blushing. Rob gives Carl a
curious smirk and then asks me, "Where's the pickup?" I point to where I
parked it and we start walking as Carl goes, "Um, I wouldn't have guessed,
that is, you don't appear to be gay, Daryl. I mean, I couldn't tell you
were gay, not if Rob hadn't said you're his boyfriend." I give him a 'look'
like he's from outer space and Robby quickly says, "Carl, his name is
Dylan, not Daryl," and Carl mutters, "Oh yeah that's right, I'm really
sorry, Dylan." Hmmm, is this fucker putting me on?

At the pickup, Rob mumbles, "I'll drive, babe," and I hand him the keys. He
unlocks the truck and Carl opens the passenger door and then pulls the
front seat forward. Huh, does he think I'm getting in the back? Of all the
nerve! I give him a smirking 'look' without moving. When I don't get in, he
looks from Rob to me, asking, "What?" I go, "Normally three people sit on
the bench front seat but since you're a freshman you need to sit your ass
in the back. Actually, you're lucky it's the backseat and not the back of
the fucking truck bed." It could go a number of ways from here but Carl
chooses to grin and blush; a really cute grin too. He shrugs and says, "I
didn't know that... sorry," and he climbs into the smallish back seat.

During the short ride to the apartment, I figure I should make-up for being
mean to him so I look back at him, and say, "Rob tells me you're a
fantastic ballplayer, Carl." Omigod, he blushes again and I mean a dark red
blush, as he mumbles, "He's too nice. I know I have my work cut out for me
making the jump from high school to college ball. I know that, but Rob's
been a great help already." Nodding, I mutter, "Yeah, he's a big help
alright."

I glance at Rob wondering if he volunteers for these mentoring duties. I
mean, last year he mentored Golden Summers who actually took off on his own
and became a leader on the team. So, as it turned out he didn't actually
need any mentoring. Mostly Golden made a name for himself as the team's
barber, although this year he doesn't want to be bothered with that. Not
when he's already established himself as one of the 'in-crowd' guys. Golden
isn't even slightly gay though and I don't suppose this kid,
what's-his-name, um, Carl-somebody, is gay either. Like the kid said a
minute ago, it's almost impossible to tell with some guys, so who knows...

As we ride along I'm thinking the kid probably feels like a dope saying
what he did about Rob and me being gay and all, so he's probably not going
to speak again unless he's spoken to. And I'm still feeling a little bad
for him, so to relieve his anxiety about his earlier babbling nonsense I
look back again, saying, "Um, so we're the first gay couple you've ever
met, huh? And since you're not gay, you..." He grins and interrupts me,
muttering, "Where'd ya get that idea?" What's that mean?

Robby exhales noisily in what might be an indication of exasperation, and
says to me, "Yeah well, Dylan, um, Carl told me he's gay before I mentioned
about us, babe," and to Carl he says, "Dylan and I don't normally run
around telling everybody, 'Hey, everybody, we're gay!'" And then he looks
in the rearview mirror at Carl, and adds, "No offense intended, Carl. You
like transparency, is that right? No problem though." Carl sort of shrinks
into himself.

Jeez, that was kinda harsh of Rob. After a second or two, Carl goes, "Gawd,
Rob, I don't know why I said any of that. I'm nervous I guess. I've never
blurted out anything like that before in my life. I only have a few gay
friends and none of them are, um, of a monogamist nature like you guys,
so..." I go, "To each their own though, ya know, Carl?" He says, "That's a,
um, really good philosophy to have, Dylan." Oh man, a brown-noser
too. That's not too cool of him but maybe, like I thought and he basically
just admitted... he's nervous. His fingers are trembling a little, the poor
kid.

Then, what the hell is this? Danny's standing at the front door of the
apartment building. He must take fast showers! Rob asks, "What's with
Danny?" I explain that he called asking to join us for dinner. Robby parks
and as we get out, he mutters, "He called you, huh? He usually calls me." I
go, "Yeah, I wondered about that too, but then... why wouldn't he call me?"
Rob shrugs and gives the back of Carl's neck a squeeze, saying, "You're in
for a delicious meal, Carl. My boyfriend is quite the chef." I mumble, "No
pressure there, Rob," and then to Carl, "We're having chicken." Carl says,
"Oh, jeez! Sorry, but I'm a vegetarian." Robby goes, "Cut the bullshit,"
and Carl goes, "No, it's true. I was raised as a vegetarian and now I'm
hooked on it. Both my parents have been vegetarians since they were kids."
Good grief!

When we walk up to Danny he has a big smile on his face; nothing new
there. After quick hugs with Rob and me, Danny's energetically hugging Carl
around the shoulders and shaking him a little, saying, "You made the big
time in two days, rookie! Nice fuckin' move wrangling a free dinner from
your mentor this quickly!"

Danny and Carl met at baseball practice of course. Carl dead-pans, "Jeez,
don't tell me you're gay too, Monday." Danny goes, "Who told you that? Rob
did you tell him...?" Rob mumbles, "No, I didn't. You just did." Danny nods
his head snickering and then says, "Yeah, I guess I did. Hey, you listen to
me, Carl... don't tell anyone else! It might get back to my Mom." Carl
goes, "Oh, okay, but I was kidding actually. You're really, um, gay too..."
On top of being nervous, not he looks confused too.

It's a Friday night so we hit the refrigerator for beers as soon as we get
inside the apartment and then we go out on the balcony to smoke. Carl's not
only a vegetarian but he doesn't drink or smoke either. On the plus side,
he doesn't complain about the rest of us who do. I try imagining what that
must be like. Ya know, not smoking or drinking but dealing with the
secondhand smoke and the smell of beer-breath from others. It can't be
pleasant for him. Carl mostly listens without interjecting anything as
Danny, Rob, and I talk about nonsensical things and goof on one another.

While twisting the cap off my third bottle of Miller Lite, my curiosity
gets the best of me and I ask Carl how he deals with the second-hand smoke
and the drinking that most of our peers are into, especially at college. He
tells me he's used to it by now. All his buddies back home, the gay ones
and straight ones, drink and some of them smoke so he's forced himself to
accept it as part of the deal; part of accepting friends as they are. That
sounds sort of preachy to me but I can't think of a good retort so I do
what has seldom got me in trouble... and say nothing.

Later, to get Carl into the conversation, Rob mentions Carl's roommate
getting thrown out of Merrimack. Carl tells us that nobody knows anything
about it except that it's true and not one of the rumors that flood college
campuses. Whatever the facts are it's very strange, to say the least. Carl
and his ex-roommate were matched up by the college without knowing each
other beforehand. As freshmen, they didn't feel they had a say in the
matter. Carl tells us the guy was really nice and he can't imagine what the
guy could have done to get thrown out. Now Carl's got a room of his own, at
least temporarily. He says something about meeting with the housing
department tomorrow to discuss a new roommate. Whoever the new roommate
turns out to be we know he'll be an athlete for one of Merrimack's teams
because Carl's room is in the freshmen athlete's dormitory.

Bottom line though, with three members of the Merrimack baseball team here,
guess what ninety percent of the conversation is about. If you guessed the
baseball team, you win! After four beers each it's time to start dinner so
I assign Danny to peel the potatoes that I'll mash with cream and butter
after they're boiled, and I get Robby making a big salad. Carl's sitting at
the kitchen bar drinking a Coke and watching us.

As I'm cooking at the stove Carl and I plan a vegetarian meal for him. Part
of his meal will be the boxed Kraft mac and cheese that I kidded Robby
about last night. I didn't expect it would ever get used but now it comes
in handy. Carl quietly says, "The mac and cheese, rolls, and a salad sound
awesome, Dylan, plus some of those," and he points to the frying pan I'm
sauteing zucchini, onions, and red bell peppers in. This is the vegetable
for us carnivores. So Carl's all set for dinner.

Later, when I'm bringing in the grilled chicken breasts Carl asked for milk
to drink with dinner. Even as a little kid I never drank milk with my
meals. I hardly drank milk at all as a kid and I still hardly ever drink it
although I know I'm unusual in that regard. Mostly I get my milk intake
from milkshakes and root beer floats, so I'm good.

After eating, all four of us pitch-in with the cleaning up and then the
dishwasher does the rest. We're out on the balcony again, three of us
drinking beers and one of us drinking a Coke. Rob mentions his
determination to get a nip ring this weekend and Carl lifts his shirt
showing us he has one. That surprises the hell out of me and then Rob gets
me to show Carl my nip ring that's almost identical to Carl's. Danny says
he'll never get one and then Carl tells us he's considering getting
extenders in his earlobes. I do not like that look at all and tell him
so. He grins his sweetly cute grin at me, bats his pretty green eyes, and
says, "Then I won't do it." I think he's being facetious.

One good thing about the nip ring conversation is Danny and Carl join
forces with me to talk Rob out of his nipple piercing idea. Well, we talk
him out of it at least until after fall baseball practice. Then, in the
middle of me telling a joke, Danny does this ridiculously long burp that
Rob and I laugh at like we're middle-schoolers. Yeah, we're getting drunk
but I admit, even sober we enjoy a good vulgar burp or fart, and after
Danny finishes laughing at his own disgusting burp he says a total non
sequitur, "Just so you know, Carl, as well as being the best looking, I'm
also the barber in this group. Since you've somehow weaseled your way into
having dinner with us you qualify as one of my customers." Hearing the word
'barber' Robby's eyes brighten and, as he snickers and looks over at me, he
goes, "Um, don't you have something to ask, Danny?" Rob's apparently never
going to stop nagging me about me getting a haircut!

After giving Rob a 'look', I decide a little ball-busting is called for, so
I'm like, "Oh yeah. Um, Danny, I wanted to ask you how well you think
Merrimack's baseball team will do this year?" As Danny starts to tell me,
Robby laughs out loud and says, "Don't change the subject, Dylan!" Danny
says to Rob, "Oh I get it, Rob. You meant a haircut for Dylan. No problem,
dude, we've discussed and agreed on that. Right, Dylan?" I nod, "Yes, of
course. It's between you and me, Danny. You're the barber and I'm your
customer and Rob, um, has no business in the conversation whatsoever."
Danny asks me, "Um, what's that mean, babe? The thing about Rob has no
business, that..." I interrupt, asking, "Seriously?" and then add, "Um,
it's just a joke thing between Robby and me."

Danny nods his head, mumbling, "Oh, I see. You two guys are moving on up to
esoteric humor, eh, Dylan? I mutter, "Um, I believe you used 'esoteric'
incorrectly there, and as for our humor it's mostly the unfunny
kind. Anyway, correctly or not, since when did you start using words like
'esoteric'?"

Danny ignores that and says, "As a special favor for you, Dylan, I'll do
your haircut tomorrow after practice, and that's a definite unless
something comes up." Rob points at me, "There ya go, babe, it's finally
almost settled! Your barber said so!" Danny points at me, saying, "Right
after practice you be in my dorm room, okay Dylan?" Carl runs his fingers
through his regular SuperCuts-type haircut that is overdue for another one,
as I mutter, "Right, Danny," and then to Rob, I go, "Are you happy now?"
Rob looks innocent, saying, "What? I don't have anything to do with it one
way or the other. It's between you and your barber."

I can't help chuckling at Rob because he's extra cute when he's being a
smart-ass. I start to give a wise-ass reply to his wise-ass comment but
stop because Carl starts to say something. He speaks so infrequently I
don't want to interrupt him. He goes, "Excuse me for cutting you off,
Dylan," and I say, "No, go right ahead," and he sort of shrugs and murmurs,
"If you were serious, Danny, I'd like to get a haircut after practice
too. How much do you charge?" Danny's standing next to Carl, both of them
leaning against the balcony railing. He hugs Carl and says, breathing right
in Carl's face, "For redheads, haircuts are free." How Carl managed not to
make a 'face' at Danny's beer and cigarette breath I can't imagine! He
doesn't though and instead, he says, 'Hey, thanks!"

A little later Danny and I are in the kitchen getting another beer when he
leans against me, whispering, "We gotta somehow dump Carl right after the
haircuts. I've got the dorm room all to myself until Sunday night. And get
this, babe, I've made a pact with myself not to miss any of your turns for
buddy sex here at college. None of 'em! Not like last summer... I promise!"
I pretend to be serious, saying, "That wouldn't have anything to do with
the fact your main squeeze, Hayden, is presently many states away attending
Duke University and therefore unavailable as your number-one buddy sex
partner, would it?" He's just as serious as he says, "Yes, it does." Oh
man, he's a 'trip' and I can't help but laugh. Danny goes, "What?"

On the balcony again I remember to tell Rob and Danny about me texting with
Hayden earlier today and about Haden's 'selfie' and his startlingly short
haircut. Danny's very perturbed, saying, "What the fuck? He didn't say word
one to me about a short haircut! I've known him most of my life and he's
never had short... um, can I see that fuckin' selfie, Dylan?" I dial it up
to show Danny.

Danny takes my cell phone to look at Hayden's selfie. Robby's looking over
his shoulder, mumbling, "Hayden looks even shorter with short hair, don't
ya think?" Danny frowns at Rob, who adds, "A little goofier too," and Danny
mutters, "What in the fuck are you talking about, Rob?" and he shows Carl
the selfie of Hayden, asking, "Do you think he's goofy looking?" Carl's
caught in the middle looking at the picture and then at Rob before saying,
"Not really goofy; or maybe a tiny bit but in a good way," and Danny
pinches Carl's cheek, saying, "See Rob? Carl basically said Hayden looks
awesomely cute and sexy!" Rob and I snicker at that preposterous
interpretation of what Carl said as Danny mutters, "That fucking haircut
though..." as he continues staring at the photo.

As usual, Danny hears things the way he wants. Carl sort of grins
quizzically at Rob and me because obviously, he did not say Hayden looked
awesome or anything remotely like that. He's probably picking-up on
Danny's, um, unusual brand of positive thinking. Robby chuckles at Danny
who's still sputtering about how he wanted to do Hayden's haircut. He's
like, "Since when did Hayden ever want short hair?" Rob and I shrug as
Danny adds, "As for this particular fucked-up haircut, Omigod, I could have
done a better job for my best buddy than that!" I go, "I'm sure you could
have! For fuck sake, Hayden obviously got that butchered haircut in some
butcher barbershop."  Danny frowns at me, asking, "Are you fucking
serious?" I look serious, saying, "Yes, I am. He told me a pound of hot
dogs came with the haircut." Frowning harder, Danny mutters, "Bullshit,
nobody goes to a butcher shop to..." and then he gawks at the picture
again.

We're obviously getting seriously drunk but Carl hangs in there with us
until midnight. Unfortunately, the conversation doesn't get any more
intellectual than my hot dog comment so I gotta hand it to Carl for
persevering with us drunks. We finally run out of beer and that's a good
thing. A little after twelve o'clock we start the process of shutting
down. Danny's gonna drive Carl back to the campus and after hugs and a few
quick drunk kisses between Danny, Rob, and me... Danny can't find his car
keys. We all look around the apartment for his keys and Carl finds them in
the bathroom. He holds them up and Danny goes, "Hey, they're my keys!" Why
he took the keys out in the bathroom no one wants to know. As they leave,
Danny's agreeing to let Carl drive. Oh yeah! Now we got ourselves a
designated driver for senior year... sweet!

Rob and I wash up and then get in bed. We talk for a while but shortly fall
asleep without having sex. Drinking too much can often result in a sexless
night, but not always.  Before going to sleep I try figuring out what I
think about Carl but can't come to any kind of conclusion. I'm generally
suspicious of nondrinkers because they have an unfair advantage, especially
later in the night when most of us are seriously under the influence and
the non-drinker is not. But still, he is an awesome looking kid and nice
too. Ah fuck, I don't know... he's a freshman for one thing, so ya just
never know.

For all I know Carl's putting us on with his 'Oh gee' personality and maybe
about being gay too. Nah, he's probably gay and he's definitely hot and
young-looking, plus sexy and cute. The drawback for me is the fact he's so
young... and Rob's his mentor. Carl's not as tall as me and he's kinda slim
although it's harder to tell how slim a guy is when they're short. Taller
slim guys are obviously slim. Yeah but then he has those pretty green eyes
too. I guess that's not especially unusual with redheads. He wasn't offish
at all, but not gregarious either. Considering he's only eighteen, and he
doesn't know any of us, and he was in a bit of an awkward situation because
of that, I'd say he handled himself pretty damn well. I guess I like
him... but a vegetarian freshman who doesn't drink or smoke is someone very
new to deal with. And I don't think I heard him curse either... so add that
to normal things he doesn't do.

Next morning Rob and I have beer-hangovers but they aren't too bad. Rob
gets out of bed before seven o'clock even though we didn't get to sleep
until almost one o'clock. Unfortunately for him, he needs to be at practice
before eight o'clock. That's very early but it's only for this first
practice when they'll all have physicals and then meetings with
coaches... and then have a regular practice I suppose. Mostly it's taking
the physicals that will be the most time-consuming.

As Rob's stumbling around the bedroom, I ask, "How come Carl doesn't need
to be at practice?" Rob shrugs, "I don't know. I asked one of the coaches
and he said freshman didn't need to be there." Huh, that seems weird. I
stay in bed until Rob's ready to leave and then jump out of bed and throw
on the clothes I wore last night to drive Rob to the ballpark. This way
I'll have the pickup to use while Rob's at practice. I guess I'll be
picking up Carl later and then meeting Danny after practice for our
haircuts. Some texting needs to happen first though. Come to think of it,
Carl could just walk over to Danny's dorm except maybe he doesn't know
which one it is. Fuck it, I'll pick him up.

After dropping off a sleepy Robby I drive back to the apartment, get out of
my clothes, and I'm back sleeping fifteen minutes after getting out of
bed. I'm guessing Rob's gonna need a nap after practice.

I won't need a nap though because, as it turns out, I sleep until ten
o'clock and then lie in bed awake until almost eleven. I'm trying to sort
out my feelings for Danny. My long-lasting 'crush' on him might be morphing
into something more significant and I don't want that to happen. I'm in a
very comfortable place as Rob's boyfriend and, um, life partner or whatever
the latest term for gay lovers is. What are they calling it nowadays?
Significant other or husband, or wife. I'm not sure how that shit works and
I don't especially care about titles anyway. Rob's said any number of times
he'll never refer to me as his wife. Yeah, but what he doesn't seem to
understand is, by telling me that it infers there's a question about what
my married designation would be, but none whatsoever about his. I don't
care though 'cause like I already said... which begs the question: why am I
thinking about it so much?

I've been encouraging Rob to be in charge for years now and it's become
clear over this past year or so that I'm referring to Rob being 'in-charge'
of our sexuality. That's primarily it, and then to a lesser degree, he's
also in charge of mostly the minutiae of our everyday lives
together. Anything that's important... well, we'll see about that. I think
Robby understood those parameters before I realized what I meant by it
myself. It uncomplicates our lives knowing who will decide the, um,
minutiae. That may sound arrogant of me assigning Rob the unimportant
decisions but I don't believe Rob thinks I'm being arrogant about it. We
have our arrangement and everyone else can have their arrangement. If
everyone else's works as well as ours, lucky them!

Anyway, every person who embraces the 'sub' part of sub/dom sex obviously
wants his partner in charge of sex, that should be self-evident. And as for
minutiae of life, which much of life is from my perspective, I've pretty
much had a laissez-faire attitude about that going back to my earliest
memories when Chubby was taking care of all of that, as well as, everything
else, and doing it without him breaking a sweat, metaphorically
speaking. And, I've come to the conclusion that even though Robby has
embraced his role in our lives together, a role I've sort of forced upon
him over the years, he'd actually be happier if our roles were
reversed. Yeah, the older I get the more I see how ironic life can
be. Things begin clarifying themselves with the passage of time. And,
because irony blows sometimes, I also realize that I could be wrong about
these latest conclusions of mine as well... so there's that for me to
consider too.

Rob and I have bungled our way into a pretty fucking good arrangement, one
that we're both very comfortable with. Plus, that isn't even remotely the
important point. The important point is, whatever developing day to day
relationship we've been working towards all these years, the ultimate point
of it is... we're in love. We're in love with one another and we have been
since the beginning of time it seems. It's only me being ultimately
confident of that relationship and our strong love affair that I feel free
to fuck around with this 'crush' I have on Danny even to the point of
allowing myself the freedom to wonder if there's any possibility I could
fall in love with kooky Danny too? And wouldn't that be a bitch? The
process of falling in love is a weird phenomenon though so you mostly don't
have much control over it.

Initially, I figured those two guys, Rob and Danny, could hardly be more
different but is that actually true? Is there that much actual difference
between them? Rob appears to be ten times more serious about, um, about
everything than Danny. Then I realize Danny's just as organized as Rob's
been about planning for life after graduating college. Wait a fucking
minute here! Why the fuck am I thinking about all this in the first place?

Haha, it's a ridiculous exercise to even remotely consider the possibility
I could ever fall in love with anyone the way I have with Rob! Our history
together is overflowing with loving memories and it's almost like our great
sex together is secondary to the love we have for one another. We're an
extraordinarily good fit. So I guess what I'm telling myself is to chill
the fuck out on this childish Danny-crush and get 'real' before it leads me
into stupid territory. Just because Danny said that dumb throwaway line at
the ballpark about how he could love me I turn it inside-out trying to see
if the love word applies to my feelings for him. Gawd, I need to get a
clue!

Lord have mercy! Damn! Okay, where's my cell phone? Looking around from my
position in bed I see my phone on the nightstand. Oh, that's right, I
intended setting an alarm, which I never did. Anyway, since it's handy I
grab it and go to my picture albums and scroll through a lot of the
pictures to find one I like of Danny. What's so special about him anyway?
Hmmm, this pic I took of him at Hayden's Labor Day cookout and seeing it I
almost gasp. It's his cuteness... and that sexy smile of his! Fuck!

Dropping the phone on the bed beside me I'm shaking my head remembering
those misguided thoughts I had during a couple of weeks in Georgia when I
contemplated a possibly better life with Ryan Wilcox. And for all the wrong
reasons of course! In that instance I was able to drift back to reality in
short order, so what I'm saying is this 'thing' for Danny is like that. I'm
sure it's a passing fancy. Omigod though, that sounded very gay. Passing
fancy? Haha.

It'd be impossible for me to make a bigger fool out of myself than actually
saying something to Danny about that love word he used. Omigod, that would
be so dumb! And now I could cry thinking of the million fabulous and
sweetly considerate things Rob's done with and for me over the years. The
affection and love he gives me is a steadying influence and makes my life
fulfilling and worthwhile. Jesus, that I'd even consider someone
else... fuck that!

Anyway, why am I torturing myself with this crazy shit? Getting out of bed
I'm shaking myself and saying out loud, 'Get a fucking grip on reality you
misguided romantically-inclined numb-nuts!' And ya know what? It's all
because I was flattered Danny said that 'love' thing and I'm letting it go
to my head. That's what happened... get fucking real, Dylan!

I stay under a hot shower for fifteen minutes before I even start
washing. I'm trying not to think of anything because my thinking this
morning is immaturely fucked-up and a total waste of time. I'm twenty-two
now and not seventeen or eighteen when I had similar thoughts about my
first real lover, Willie. Then a few years later I had a dumb thought
similar to that about Ryan. That was then though. I'm too old now to keep
acting like a character in a romance novel by thinking romantic thoughts
about Danny... not that I've ever read a romance novel. Just saying...

Wow! Ya know, a good talk with myself like this one is very beneficial!
Very fucking mature of me too, and to think I used to worry about being
immature... ha! Continuing my efforts to stop thinking about anything
remotely important, I get dressed in jockey shorts, skinny jeans, sneakers,
and one of my favorite hoodie sweatshirts, sans undershirt because this
sweatshirt has an awesome fleece lining that feels good against my skin.

After making a Keurig mug of coffee with a Dunkin' Donuts breakfast-blend
K-cup, I toast a couple of pieces of white bread, fry an egg and melt a
slice of American cheese on it and put it all between the two slices of
toast and... ta da!... a breakfast sandwich. Adding a drizzle of ketchup,
salt, and pepper and it's a better sandwich than anything I'd get at a fast
food restaurant. And for one-third the cost.

After gulping down my breakfast sandwich I consider making another one of
those awesome sandwiches except while gulping down the first one I cleaned
the frying pan and put it away. It seems too much trouble to do everything
all over again so instead, I go out on the balcony for a smoke while I
finish my coffee.

I'm looking at our view of the woods when my Mom calls me and we have a
really great fifteen-minute conversation. Everything is perfect in Mom's
universe and the call would have been perfect too if only I'd thought to
call her instead of the other way around. Damn! I gotta be sure to call Mom
next time. I do not want to be one of those self-centered motherfuckers who
forget about their Mom! No way; I love my sweet Mom. My life has been
privileged compared to hers and yet never a complaint from her in all the
years I've known her... only positivity and smiles from my Mom.

In this maudlin mood, I go down and fire up the pickup truck. It's a
bright, sunny, albeit chilly day. Well, it is the sixth of September with a
New England fall season quickly approaching. Damn, just when I'm beginning
to feel really good and, oh fuck, some moron has run out of gas or has a
flat tire, or some such shit because their car is blocking the exit. It's a
woman and she comes over to say, "I'm so sorry, young man. My car just
stopped. I don't know why. Do you know anything about cars?" I'm like,
"Sorry, I don't. Have you called a garage or..." and a car pulls up behind
me with the driver tooting the horn. Asshole! The lady and I look back and
see a big man getting out of his new station wagon. He struts up to us with
the lady telling him, "My car won't start. It conked out on me and I can't
restart it."

The man, who has that four-day beard that's supposed to be fashionable
nowadays but is mostly an excuse lazy guys use for not shaving, says, "I'll
take a look at it for you," and then to me, "Son, how about helping me push
her car off the road." I get out, muttering, "Yeah, I guess." The lady gets
in her car to steer and the big guy and I bust a nut pushing her car up an
incline and over onto some grass.

The man opens the hood of the lady's car as I walk backward to the pickup,
mumbling, "Um, I um, that is I've got an appointment and don't wanna be,
um, late..." but they're not paying attention to me so I get in the pickup
and slowly drive past them making sure to keep my eyes on the road so none
of us makes eye contact. I feel like a rat sneaking off like this, but what
could I do? I don't know anything about cars.

Telling myself I did what I could to help, I pull out of the apartment
complex onto route 114 and cross over to the entrance to Merrimack. Carl
did text me when I was coming in off the balcony a while ago, so I know his
room number in the athletic freshmen's dormitory; the one named McFeeney
Dormitory. It's one of the oldest dorms on campus. Along with others, it's
set back a hundred yards off route 114. This guy McFeeney must have left
the college a bundle of money to have a dormitory named after him.

All those old dormitories visible from route 114 need a facelift if you ask
me. They're three-story brick buildings and the bricks look dirty. Power
washing on sandblasting or something would improve their appearance a great
deal. Maybe one of the McFeeney children who inherited the old guy's money
will make a donation to do something about the brick on their father's, or
maybe it's their grandfather's building. Fat fucking chance of that
happening though... heh heh. Once the kids get their hands on the
inheritance, forget about it...

Parking in the general parking lot I walk toward Carl's dormitory but
before I get there I see him walking out the door. He calls to me, "Hey, I
was watching for you, Dylan." I wait for him and when he's up next to me he
does a cursory one arm hug, taking me a little off guard with that. It's
cool though.

Hmmm, he's looking sparkling clean this morning with his red hair and green
eyes both shining brightly. His pretty light red hair, obviously just
shampooed, is combed neatly into a nondescript SuperCut type regular
hairstyle with a part on the side. It's raggedy looking around his ears
though so he definitely needs a haircut. He looks good, but the thing is if
I knew he was going to do the hug I'd have been prepared and held on to him
for a second to possibly detect his personal scent. I wasn't quick enough
this time. Wow though, he's definitely looking young and yummy so I gotta
admit his vegetarian diet and clean living is working out for him quite
well in the 'looks' department. Yep, one of the rare cute guys on campus
this year and wouldn't you know Rob gets to be his mentor.

Anyway, I point at the pickup, mumbling, "I'm parked over there, Carl," and
then I'm like, "Ya know, I was wondering how come you don't need to be at
the ballpark like Rob and Danny?" He says, "Us freshmen had our physicals
Wednesday and today is for the returning players from last year's team." I
nod my head but something doesn't sound logical about that. I mean, it's
physicals plus practice and meetings, right?

We get in the truck with Carl not any more chatty this morning than he was
last night. I don't care for silence with most people, so I say, "Um, so
how do you like Merrimack so far?" He quietly says, "I like the guys I've
met; you, Rob, and Danny... heh heh, you guys rock!" I nod, expecting he'd
continue with more on that topic, but he doesn't, so I go, "Yeah well,
we're glad to know you too, Carl. Um, how'd you choose this college?" He
says, "Oh, um, well... no offense but Merrimack wasn't my first or fifth or
sixth choice, for that matter." Cheeky little bastard!

I go, "Huh, but since Merrimack offered you a full-boat scholarship you
decided to take it, right?" I'm driving through the campus very carefully
because these bulletproof numb-nut freshmen walk right out in front of
cars. Carl says, "Yeah, they offered a full scholarship, but I got full
scholarships to three other universities as well. My Dad and Mom both went
here so for them I selected Merrimack from all the acceptance letters I
received." Well, la-dee-fucking-da!

Oh come on, it was nice of him to do that for his Dad and Mom. Of course,
heh heh, there was probably some serious parental arm-twisting helping him
decide on Merrimack. I go, "Oh, the old Legacy student routine, huh? Get
much encouragement from the 'rents about making Merrimack your choice?" He
shakes his head, "Nope. Zero pressure from my parents about any of the
colleges. I just wanted to do it for them." There's that touch of what
could be construed as 'preachiness' coming from Carl again, but I let it
slide.

The first parking lot is full so I park in the second one, mumbling, "I
guess everyone showed up this morning." Actually, it's afternoon by now but
who's keeping time? We get out of the pickup and Carl says, "Thanks for
picking me up but I could have walked." I mutter, "No problem, I'm glad to
do it."

We're early, which is why we're here at the ballpark and not at Danny's
apartment for our haircuts. As we go through the front entrance Carl yells,
"Darn it!" I'm like, "What?" and he goes, "There are freshmen out there
practicing. I might have screwed up." Jesus, I tried to tell both him and
Rob it didn't make sense. Carl looks worried as he mumbles, "Excuse me,
Dylan, I need to talk to my coach. He's over there," and Carl jogs
off. Poor kid! I walk up four rows of bleachers to take a seat in the sun,
in the same spot as yesterday actually.

I'm watching Carl having a conversation with a redheaded coach figuring
even if he screwed-up this morning, they're both redheads so maybe that'll
help... heh heh. No, just kidding... I hope he's not in trouble! From here
though it doesn't look like the coach is all that upset although Carl
appears to be.

Hmmm, he's already walking back toward me. Carl skips up the steps super
light on his feet. Another lucky bastard born athletic and probably taking
his natural God-given abilities for granted. Yes, that's right, I'm
jealous.

Carl sits next to me, saying, "Coach said it's okay this one time. I should
have been here but he said he'll give me a mulligan for today." I say, "Oh,
the coach is a golfer." Carl goes, "I don't know," as if that was a
question from me. I wish he'd relax a little. I pat his shoulder, saying,
"I'm glad you're not in trouble but, jeez, Rob's supposed to be looking out
for you. As your mentor, he should have told you to be at this practice."
Shaking his head, Carl goes, "No, it's not Rob's fault. I was standing next
to him when the other coach said I didn't need to be here, so I don't know
why...." and his voice drifts away. He still looks worried.

Trying to make him feel better, I say, "Ya know, Carl, that coach that told
you and Rob freshmen didn't need to be here this morning must have meant
you didn't need to be here to take a physical." Carl mumbles, "You're
right... I think," and still sounding worried he mumbles, "Communication
meltdown, but I'll be okay I think, thanks to the coach being
understanding."

Carl's a nervous and fidgety kid. Huh, maybe he's always like this. I'll
tell ya though, it's disconcerting seeing his fingers trembling so I give
him a shoulder hug, muttering, "It's all good, Carl, you'll see." He looks
at me and asks, "Ya really think so?" and I go, "Yeah, that was a goodwill
move by your coach letting you off the hook like that. Some coaches, ya
know... hard asses." He shrugs, "He's the coach who came to my house
recruiting me for the team." I pat his shoulder, "Oh, that explains it!
Dude, he's gonna look out for you. Anyway, I'm glad you're not in
trouble. Where you from," and he goes, "Rhode Island, actually a suburb of
Providence Rhode Island." I nod, and even though I don't have a clue where
that is I still mutter, "Cool!" as if I do have a clue.

That coach who recruited Carl didn't give him any shit for making a rookie
mistake because he knows Carl's a special talent, plus if Carl fucks up it
makes the recruiting coach look like an ass. I glance at Carl and he looks
back at me doing a shy sort of smile and then he shrugs at me like he's not
sure what to do or say. I pull the brim of his baseball cap down and he
adjusts his hat, smiling at me again as I'm thinking: The Coach thinks
Carl's special, but Carl sure doesn't act like he thinks he's
special. That's kinda rare.

Carl was probably ranked number one as a baseball prospect for the entire
state of Rhode Island, and he definitely was a star at his high school or
more likely the prep school he went to, and yet he's not acting like a star
with a 'big head' or like he's better than anyone else. Robby even had a
bit of a swagger in high school when he was Framingham's star pitcher
getting written up in the town newspaper and all that kind of shit. It was
odd seeing him swaggering around the high school because he was an
extremely shy kid otherwise. Being shy with a swagger isn't easy to pull
off. I secretly had this monumental crush on him once fat Carl fucked me
into realizing I was gay. Before that, I wondered why I was always staring
at Rob. Of course, Rob was also the best looking boy out of all three
thousand students in our graduating class... not counting me, that
is... hahaha. Oh fuck, just goofing around 'cause I'm in a good mood.

The practice breaks up at twelve-thirty. All the players are in uniform,
which I expected, and they all file into the locker room to change. Carl
stands and says, "Coach said I need to go in at the end of practice to get
my uniform and get assigned a locker. Will you be here, or...?" I stand up
too, saying, "You know where the pickup is parked, right? I'll meet you
guys there." He smiles and says, "Thanks again, Dylan," and he starts to go
but stops, asking, "Ah," and another shy grin, before he asks, "Is Danny a
good barber?" I wiggle my hand like: he's not horrible but not great
either, as I'm saying, "He's okay... and it's a free haircut, so...." Carl
laughs and says, "If you're letting him give you a haircut that's good
enough for me! See ya soon, Dylan." Huh...

I'm starting to like Carl even though he doesn't curse, drink, or smoke. He
probably doesn't lie either. Well, I smoke so I light a cigarette as I'm
walking slowly to the pickup. I didn't see Danny or Rob but there were a
helluva lot of guys on the field and I was mostly paying attention to young
Carl anyway. I'm glad Rob's mentoring him because Rob takes his mentoring
seriously while some guys might think it's a pain in the ass to wet nurse a
freshman; especially one with a full scholarship when they probably didn't
even get a partial one. Rob didn't get one either.

No one is rushing to meet me here but finally, as I'm stepping on my
cigarette butt, I see Rob walking out the door with his head down. Yeah, it
looks like his ass is dragging. He only got like five hours sleep last
night. Plus, he got up with a beer hangover that's probably still with him
because he couldn't sleep it off like I did. Danny and Carl come out ten
seconds later. They're twenty feet behind Robby and naturally, Danny's
draped all over Carl telling him God only knows what. Carl's grinning
though and nodding his head.

Rob gets to me first and, with a sheepish grin, says, "I'm beat, babe. Do
you mind if I take the pickup and you guys walk over to Danny's dorm? I
need a long nap." I go, "No, I don't mind. How's your head?" Robby shrugs,
"I took some Tylenol at the first aid station but I still have a little
headache... mostly I'm tired." I give him the keys, he looks back and yells
to Danny and Carl, "I'll see you guys later." They both wave back and then
Danny continues with whatever it is he's telling Carl.

Patting Rob's back, I say, "Have an awesome nap, boyfriend... dream about
me, okay?" He smiles and nods his head and then gets in the truck, starts
the engine, and I ask, "Oh, Rob, should I invite the boys for dinner
tonight. It's Saturday night so maybe we'll have another little dinner
party. Robby does a huge yawn and then smiles, mumbling, "Sorry for yawning
in your face. Um, if you don't mind making dinner for them, sure. I mean, I
don't mind. Last night was cool and I don't really wanna go clubbing or
anything tonight anyway." I say, "You don't think you'll want to go out
tonight the way you're feeling now, but you might feel better later." Rob
nods, "Yeah, maybe. Invite them anyway. Or maybe they have plans for
tonight, who knows?" Huh, all he wants to do is crash.

Robby drives away and I walk down to where Danny and Carl stopped. Danny
takes his arm off Carl and points down a row of dormitories, saying to me,
"We stopped here because there's my dorm. Second building down. Ya know,
it's the senior jocks' dorm." Then to Carl, he says, "You'll get to be in a
real jock dormitory sophomore year. It'll be quite an upgrade from your
present freshman jock dormitory, let me tell ya. Holy shit, I remember
freshman year when I first got..." but a guy interrupts his story, yelling,
"Danny, C'mere for a second, ya crazy motherfucker." Danny looks over and
laughs while flashing 'the finger' at the guy. Turning back to us, he says,
"I'll only be a second. That's my bud, Chris Hult."

Carl and I watch Danny jog over to a group of four jock-looking guys. I tap
Carl's shoulder and ask, "What was Danny energetically telling you when you
guys were coming out the door?" Carl looks at me with his ever-present
smile, and says, "Oh, um, oh yeah, he was talking me into getting the same
haircut he's doing for you. He's really got a lot of energy, doesn't he?
Very affectionate fellow too." I snort out a chuckle, "Yeah, Danny's a
touchy/feely guy, but he's like that with everyone." Carl mutters, "I like
him. Is he gay or was he pulling my chain about that last night?" I go,
"No, he's gay but he's basically still in the closet to everyone except
maybe a half dozen people." I say that but I'm probably underestimating how
many sex partners Danny's had over the years. Oh hell, I definitely am
although I don't think a single adult-type person knows he's gay.

Danny comes back and says, "We've got a touch football game for today at
three o'clock. You in on that, Carl?" Carl says, "Yeah, thanks for
including me. I was the quarterback for my prep school football team."
Danny's arm goes around Carl's shoulders again and, as we start walking
toward the dorms, Danny's saying, "No shit, a little fellow like you, huh?
Were you any good?" Carl shrugs and Danny adds, "Ya know, I'm just throwing
it out there, but Rob usually quarterbacks our pick-up teams for touch
football; Rob or me." Carl goes, "Oh, I don't want to intrude or anything."
Danny chuckles and mumbles something I can't hear but whatever he said it
made Carl do what sounded like a nervous laugh. I walk alongside them sort
of wishing Danny had his arm around my shoulders like he usually does.

At his dormitory building, Danny lets go of Carl and goes over to talk to a
couple of guys loitering on the steps outside. Does he know
every-fucking-body on this campus? Carl and I drift a few feet away and I'm
like, "Carl, um, you said Danny talked you into getting the same haircut as
me. What haircut was he talking about?" Carl goes, "Oh, um, what he called
an old-fashioned flattop. At first, it sounded extreme or weird, ya know?
But I reconsidered when he said that it's what you wanted. I thought a
little about it and then kinda got on board with the idea, plus he assured
me he knows how to do a super flattop." I like, "He said it's what I
wanted?" Carl nods his head," Yeah. I've never had one in my life but I got
to thinking about it and remembered some kids at Prep had flattops and, ya
know, they looked pretty cool. I think Danny's referring to more of a retro
hairstyle though, right?" I mutter, 'Who knows what he's referring to?"

Oh, fuck! Danny's still on that flattop kick! He can usually be depended
upon to forget passing fancies like that and go off on some other crazy
tangent. I take a deep breath, adding, "Jeez, I should mention that Danny
bull shits a little bit sometimes, Carl. Everybody does that sometimes and
I'm sorry, but I don't think I'm gonna go for a flattop this time." He
looks disappointed, "Oh, why not? I'm psyched about it now. Danny said it
was your idea, so..." and yeah, now Carl's disappointed. Balls! That damn
Danny!

Fuck though, I just shrug noncommittally, and Carl goes, "Gee, I thought
it'd be cool since you..."  Interrupting him now, I'm like "Um, I might
though, Carl. I don't know for sure, ya know, I'm still thinking about it,
okay? Jeez." Oh man, he looks hurt. Was I too abrupt? I go, "Ah, mostly
what I've been leaning toward is not going with, ya know, that totally
retro-style flattop. Maybe a variation of it though but, heh heh, it's like
I've been saying I'm not gonna go with that haircut for two weeks now so
I'll need to reverse myself." Carl goes, "Well, okay then. Good! I'm kinda
interested in how I'll look. This kid, Bruce Fry, was a halfback on the
football team and we were kinda close. Anyway, he had like a military
flattop and I sort of admired his confidence to be different, ya know what
I mean? And blah, blah, blah..."

I stopped listening because, jeez, did I just let flattery again influence
my mind. First Danny flattered me with his 'love' word and now Carl decided
to get this dumb haircut because he thought it was my idea! Goddammit! Oh
man, that's pathetic of me. Carl's finished his story of the halfback
apparently as he hits my arm and I look at him. Nodding his head, he asks,
"So, we're gonna go with the flattop haircuts of some kind, right?" Why the
fuck does he care what haircut I get? Did Danny put him up to this? Oh man,
that's a ridiculous accusation! My suspicious mind just embarrassed
itself. I mutter, "What's that Carl?" and he says, "We're getting flattops,
right?" I mutter, "Ah, um, we'll see..."

Danny comes up between us and gets a hand on the back of both our necks for
a squeeze that gives me shivers as he says, "Let's get some lunch
first. Whaddaya say?" I go, "Good idea," and Danny lets go of my neck to
pull a plastic card from his pocket, saying, "Bruce let me borrow his meal
card. You swipe this, Dylan, and it's like an all-you-can-eat buffet in the
dining hall." Huh, it was just last night when Danny told me the dining
hall sucked!

He hands the card to me, adding, "I need that back after you swipe it,
babe. Bruce and some guys are going to the Beef and Ale House for lunch and
some beers but he'll need it for dinner tonight." I go, "That reminds
me. Do you guys wanna have dinner at the apartment again tonight, or is the
dining hall buffet too much competition for my dinners?" Both of them say,
"Yeah," meaning they want to come for dinner.

In the dining hall, it is an all you can eat buffet except there aren't as
many choices as you normally see at regular buffets and I don't wanna eat
most of the food they're offering here. Some of it doesn't look appetizing
at all so I guess Danny's right, or for his sake, I hope he's right when he
said the full staff isn't operating in the dining hall yet.

There's some food we like okay though. I get a premade ham sandwich, Danny
gets a hot roast beef sandwich and two desserts, and Carl gets two kinds of
salads. We all get powered iced tea or at least that's what it tastes like
to me; iced tea made from like an instant Lipton's Tea mix that comes in a
box. No, I am not picky! Some processed foods need to simply be ignored
like the Kraft's boxed mac and cheese I served to Carl last night. Except
when in a pinch... then some, not all, some boxed and dehydrated foods are
okay as emergency options while others simply won't ever do no matter how
big the 'pinch'. Of course, I never buy those items.

After lunch, we're walking back to Danny's dorm when I all of a sudden have
a thought: 'What's Danny gonna use to do our haircuts?' I ask, "Um, Danny
aren't you forgetting something?" and I almost add 'airhead'. He's trying
to light a cigarette as he mutters, "What'd I forget, Dylan?" I say, "Well,
barber tools for one thing." He gets his cigarette going and as he lets out
a long stream of smoke he rubs my head, chuckling and saying, "No,
knucklehead, I didn't forget anything. I got the clippers and everything
from Rob's pool house. I'm the barber now so I get all that shit to use
from now on."

Oh yeah, I think we talked about that. I'm like, "When'd you do that?" I'm
feeling funny that my stuff is sort of Danny's stuff now. He goes, "Jeez,
let me think. I guess I picked up the barber things last Thursday. His Mom
unlocked the pool house for me. Rob wasn't around, and you weren't either
you cute motherfucker you! Why'd you ask me that?" I shrug, "Oh, I don't
know. It's nothing. Um, you got the barber cape and everything, huh?" He's
like, "Yeah, of course. Rob doesn't need any of those things now that he
quit being the barber and you have your own set of barber stuff, right?" I
mutter, "The drugstore clippers, yeah, but they're not professional like,
well no problem except I..."

Danny interrupts, saying, "Ya know, I plan next summer to make a little
barbershop in the garage. You remember us drinking and smoking in there,
right Dylan? Mom doesn't use the garage for the car so I can make a
barbershop in the back with one of the stools from the basement. I'll do
Terrence's and his brother's haircuts because I know Terrence will insist
on that, plus yours and Rob's of course, and whoever else. Oh, and probably
those three boys who live on the other side of my house too. That family is
always struggling financially but, um, don't start spreading it around that
I'm giving everyone a haircut for free." Who could I tell that would give a
fuck? Anyway, we're all going to be doing real life things after
graduation. Childhood is dead.

Danny's still talking, "Yeah, I like doing haircuts and helping guys out
like that, but I gotta know them. I'm not opening a free barbershop for
every turd who walks by. But, Christ, for guys I know I'll save them at
least twenty bucks a month... for each haircut. I'm not charging anything,
so..."

Damn, I hate being petty but he could at least acknowledge I'm donating all
those haircutting tools. And now I don't have a barber cape again! Danny
does though. I go, "So you planned ahead and brought all the clippers and
shit with you. You're organized and here I stupidly thought you forgot that
minor detail and I was going to say you could use my drugstore clippers."
He hugs around my waist, saying, "I got it all under control, baby. Jeez,
have some faith in me." Then he shouts, "Carl, look at this guy. Ain't our
buddy, Dylan, the cutest motherfucker you ever saw in your life?" Carl
mumbles, 'Yeah, all you guys are."

Damn though, I find myself leaning in against Danny as he's giving me the
hug. I'm grinning like a goof as my arm goes around his waist and we walk
like that for a bit with me saying, "That didn't embarrass me much... no,
not at all!" And Danny goes, "What didn't embarrass you?" Oh, fuck... haha!

Danny's dorm room is on the first floor, two doors down from the entrance
to the building. On the left when we walk in I see there's an activity room
with a big TV and some game tables plus a pool table as well as lots of
chairs and a snack bar and a small kitchen area. Danny grabs a stool from
the counter and drags it with him to his room. He unlocks the door and we
go into a typical college dorm room. Carl looks around, mumbling, "This is
bigger and nicer than my room."

There are twin beds, one unmade that will surely be Danny's, two small
desks with chairs and an upholstered chair with a rip in the back. There's
also a throw rug and a window over the bedside table that's between the
beds. Yeah, I guess it is bigger than most dorm rooms I've been in but then
it is the athletes' dormitory. Students/athletes... and all that other
horse-doodie.

Danny pulls the stool onto the tiled part of the floor and pats the seat,
saying, "Sit right down Dylan, you'll be first. The freshman goes last." As
I sit on the stool and lean against the back of it, Carl gives me a 'look'
and then grins nervously and murmurs, "I hope you get something like the
old-fashioned flattop, Dylan, so I can see...well, you know," and he sits
in the upholstered chair. Damn!

Picking up a Sports Illustrated magazine off the floor, Carl says to Danny,
"Oh good, magazines! Just like a barbershop." Danny's pulling a satchel
with the barber equipment from a small closet saying over his shoulder,
"There are more magazines under my bed." Carl asks, 'Which bed?" and Danny
points to the unmade bed and then takes the barber cape from the
satchel. He shakes it to get it spread out and then puts it around me and I
begin feeling the effects of my haircut fetish already.

Danny ruffles my hair, muttering, "I'll get you looking spiffy in no time,
babe." I mumble, "Spiffy? Who uses words like that?" Danny ignores that and
gets a clip from the satchel that's used to secure the cape around his
victim's neck. Oooh man, I need to take a deep breath. I'm sure part of my
fetish has something to do with the way Danny's confidently moving things
along like. Oh, fuck, I can barely catch my breath.

We've been in his room less than a minute and I'm already preparing myself
for the slaughter sitting here docilely waiting for Danny to do whatever
he's going to do. It's really hard to describe this 'thing', this fetish,
to anyone who doesn't have it. Unbelievably, there's this quickly
developing weird sensation happening low in my belly and around my groin as
my dick firms up. It's, oh I don't know, it's sort of scary but also
awesomely sexual at the same time. Like I said, it's weird. It makes me
shudder slightly and then take another deep breath.

Danny tightens the cape around my neck and uses the clip to secure the
overlapping ends in back as he mumbles, "We don't want any hair clipping to
get down your back, do we, babe?" That only increases the weird sensations
I'm feeling and makes me take another deep breath. Hearing me take that
deep breath, Danny pats my shoulder reassuringly, misinterpreting my deep
breath, murmuring, "Jesus, give me a minute to get everything set up, okay?
I know you just want to get it over with but try being a little patient,
Dylan."

He's always telling me to be patient. I like his confidence though. With my
fingertip, I try going in between the cape and my neck because it's too
tight but I can barely get my finger in there to loosen it. Danny pulls my
hand away, saying, "Please, Dylan, don't do that. The cape is exactly the
way it should be." Christ, his authoritative voice makes my dick get hard
as I put my hand back under the cape, doing what I'm told.

I suppose Danny's behavior as 'the barber' could be considered officious
but I prefer thinking of it as him very confidently taking charge as he
should in this situation. Lifting my chin way up seems to relieve some of
the tightness of the cape around my neck. It was right on my Adam's apple.

Glancing at Carl I see he isn't paying any attention to Danny and me. He
appears to be reading an article in the magazine as unconcerned and
uninterested as if he were in a regular barbershop. That's the way normal
guys deal with a haircut! Not me though. Many times I've wished I could
react to getting a haircut in a normal way like it was nothing but a
nuisance. And then other times I find this fetish excruciatingly exciting,
although a little scary like I mentioned a minute ago. I don't know why I'm
affected this way! I don't have a fucking clue why... it just is what it
is.

When the barber clippers, guides, scissors, and basically everything from
the satchel that Robby had in plastic Ziploc bags are laid out on his
desktop, Danny looks out the window and says, "Oh, shit, it's raining!
There goes our football game this afternoon." I'm feeling jittery with
anticipation of my haircut so I couldn't care less about a football
game. Carl does though. He says, "Oh darn! I was looking forward to meeting
some more guys." Danny says, "We'll introduce you to people, Carl, and then
you'll get a roommate and meet lots of freshmen too. Jesus, a sweet looking
kid like you. You'll be popular! Right, Dylan?" I go, "Huh?" and Danny
turns on the clippers.

Oh man, I've had those clippers since I was like twelve years old. I bought
them on eBay with a thirty dollar bid. New ones like that cost almost two
hundred dollars and they're no better than mine, or now I guess they're
Danny's.

He's holding the buzzing clippers in his right hand and with his left he
pushes my head over to the side and then leaves his hand on my head as he
runs the clippers from my sideburn up until my head begins to curve, then
he flicks his wrist and a large chunk of hair hits the cape and slides down
to my lap. Before it even hit my lap Danny's running the clippers up the
side of my head again. It's inconceivable to me how he can be so, um,
almost cockily confident. Even with all the experience I've had at
barbering guys' hair, I was never as sure of myself doing it as Danny is. I
was always concerned about pleasing the guy. Danny seems satisfied if he
pleases himself. Haha, I don't necessarily mean that as a dig at him.

Omigod though, I'm in a pleasant fog with my cock stiff and getting
harder. But damn, I wasn't ready for him to start that fast. He just goes,
bang, and he's off and running with it. That's what I mean about him being
way confident in himself.  Jeez, this feels good but I need to stop him so
we can discuss what the fuck he's doing.

The thing is, my dick continues tightening up so nicely and it's begun
throbbing and feeling sexily good. Using all the willpower I can muster up,
l raise my hand under the cape because speaking seems out of the
question. Danny see me do that and stops, asking, "What?" I wave my hand
and lift the cape to give me a chance to catch my breath. Danny sees my
hand moving under the cape and asks, "What's that mean? When you wave your
hand, what's it supposed to mean? Do you need to take a piss... or what?"
Carl looks over raising his eyebrows with a quizzical expression on his
cute youthful face.

Forcing out a fake cough to get me started, I say, "Wait for a second,
Danny," and I do another fake cough before going, "Jesus, don't you ask
your customers what kind of haircut they want? Fuck!" He shrugs, "Are you
joking? We've talked about this ten times already." I take my hand out from
under the cape to feel the side of my head where he's used the
clippers. The hair is wicked short like maybe an eighth of an inch and it's
like that all the way up the side of my head. Danny's like, "Whaddaya
doing? Why are you feeling your head?" He takes my hand and puts it on the
cape, saying, "You and Carl want flattop haircuts, right? So with a flattop
haircut, you get short hair around the sides and back. Everybody knows
that, and according to the tutorials..." Carl thought Danny was asking a
question and he goes, "Yeah, I want a flattop, Danny."

Danny looks over at Carl and says, "Yeah, I know you do, Carl! I was
talking to Dylan. Be patient, Jesus!  Wait your turn, dude." Carl goes,
"Sorry for interrupting. I thought you asked me something." Danny makes a
'face' at Carl, saying, "I'm gonna take special care with your haircut
little buddy. Don't worry about it." Carl doesn't seem worried. It's me
who's worried!

Turning his attention back to me, Danny says, "See that, babe? Carl doesn't
have a problem with short hair on the sides and back, do you, Carl?" Carl
goes, "Whatever goes with the haircut, I guess." Danny looks at me raising
his eyebrows, giving me a 'look', like: 'See, he understands. So what's
your problem?'

Another deep breath by me and then I can't help it, it's so bizarre the way
Danny misinterprets everything, so even with my concerns about this haircut
I can't help but snort out a laugh. Danny goes, "What?" and I go, "Oh
Jesus, Danny, you're funny, but listen, you and I didn't actually agree on
what haircut I want you to do. Seriously I don't know where you got that
idea I said I wanted..." and I see Carl looking at us and probably
wondering what's going on, so I finish with, "Um, ya know, we didn't agree
on, that is, not exactly what kind of flattop you're talking about... did
we?" Carl seems to relax when I sat that. Jeez...

And, Omigod, that was a stupid-ass comment I made to Danny. I mean, how
many types of flattops are there? I wanted to say something to slow Danny
down for a minute and then I didn't want to disappoint Carl because he'd
said something about if I get a haircut from Danny it must be okay, so it's
like he's depending on me. And now it's like I've just now agreed with
Danny about him proceeding with a flattop haircut and we're merely
negotiating minor details. Fuck!

Goddammit, I'm screwed again but I snicker again too because Rob's right;
what the fuck's the big deal? And the fact is I don't care. I mean,
considering my history with my friends deciding my haircuts why would I
make a stink about this one from Danny, who I've got this ginormous crush
on? Danny goes, "Oh, I thought we'd already agreed. My mistake, babe. Okay,
I can show you pictures of flattops if you need to see 'em. Um, but I
thought you were the haircut guru and knew all about things like this. I'm
not being critical of you, or a smart ass, just saying..." I shrug my
shoulders under the cape and gawk at the cut hairs in my lap.

He's so quiet I glance over at Carl and he does his normal smile at
me. Okay, at least he's happy again now that I'm going along with the
flattop scenario. Meanwhile, Danny's taking his cell phone out and then I
guess he got an album of haircut examples he's flicking his finger
across. He stops and shows me a picture of a kid of about twelve with a
regular flattop haircut that looks wicked short. Tapping the picture, Danny
goes, "Like this kid's haircut. The way we agreed."

Haha, we never agreed to anything! I'm dealing with Danny Monday here
though, so I go, "Are there other examples?" Wait, something just occurred
to me. The picture next to the twelve-year-old had my old favorite haircut
of comb down the top hairs and flip up the front. No part or anything, just
an extra a short haircut that can work to satisfy all three of us. It can
start as a flattop until I get some gel to help the top hairs lay flat.

Danny's got a few more pictures to show me, as he's saying, "I've studied
tutorials for the flattop haircut I just showed you, Dylan. Why are you
causing all this uncertainty for Carl and me?" I can't help but snort out
another laugh at that absurd comment and then I manage to sputter out,
"What the fuck ya talking about? Carl doesn't care; he's not uncertain."
Carl's now grinning at my bursts of snorting laughter probably thinking
Danny's showing me weird pictures or pornography or something goofy like
that. He thinks I'm having a good time. Well, I am enjoying my fetish. It
initiated some vibrations on my dick, but that's not the same thing as
having a good time. A good time as in... haha.

Pointing at another guy's picture with a flattop, I go, "There, that one
will be okay. That'll work for what I have in mind." Danny's astounded
shouting, "What the fuck? That's the 'before' picture, babe," he flicks his
finger on the face of his cell phone and shows me another picture, saying,
"This is that same guy after his haircut." I snort out another laugh
because I didn't realize I'd picked a 'before' photo. Carl giggles along
with me now every time I do a snorting laugh, not actually knowing why he's
giggling but caught up in my laughter I suppose. It's nervous laughter on
my part. It was Carl who used to do nervous laughter and now it's me doing
it.

Most of the haircut fetish sensations have evaporated because of all the
talking we're doing and I'm thinking more clearly now. I say, "Ya see
Danny, I'm not positive I like that total flattop look. But, as a
compromise, if you do a longer than normal flattops, like that 'before'
picture I pointed out to you, I can then occasionally comb down the top
hairs and flip up the front for my old time favorite haircut." Oh man, I'm
exhausted with this already. Physically exhausted.

Danny nods, saying suspiciously, "Yeah, I suppose you could do that
occasionally. How often did you have in mind doing it though? I assumed
you'd wear the flattop. That's the whole fucking point of doing this!" I
give him a 'look' and he goes, "Um, okay, how long on top?" I shrug under
the cape and then take my hand out again to hold my thumb and forefinger
apart about an inch and a half. Danny says, "Don't be ridiculous!" and he
covers my thumb with his and my forefinger with his to squeeze the opening
I made to about an inch, saying, "I could compromise that much."

Huh, inch-long hair can be made to lay down even after if it's trained to
stick up in a flattop. Like I said, I'll need hair gel maybe at first but
whatever. We're both getting what we want, sort of. The fact is, I prefer
almost any haircut other than the last one Danny gave me. I'm referring to
that new trendy haircut that goes by many names. Professional barbers call
it an 'undercut', meaning shaved sides and back with long hair on top that
drops over the shaved area, which is where the 'undercut' reference comes
in.

That's professional jargon that most people don't understand
anyway. Undercuts are better with a short 'fade' component but I don't want
Danny trying the 'fade' part of that again. I had ridges on my head when he
tried it for my last haircut. And then there are 'undercut' options like
spiked hair on top, or the pompadour undercut style, or haircuts with a
shaved-in side-part... and so forth. Who started that style I have no idea,
but I'm going to Google and try finding out because that trend is
spreading, as I've lamented before, all over the fucking world and I think
it's a very silly looking hairstyle. Omigod, last summer many professional
baseball players had versions of that dumb-ass looking haircut. All the
money they make and their sense of style is out their asses.

Anyway, back to my travails. Danny's already cut the hair on the right-side
of my head to military length so there's nothing to be done about that; not
this time anyway. And I can work with a one-inch flattop with the help of
hair gel so I mumble reluctantly, "I guess I'm okay with that, so proceed
Mister Barber." Danny says, "It's what I was gonna do in the first fucking
place," and he makes a 'face' at Carl like, 'Do you see what I'm dealing
with here?' Carl, of course, grins like he does whenever anyone looks at
him. Still mugging at Carl, Danny motions at me, saying, "And he used to be
a barber and yet I still need to talk him through this shit." Used to be a
barber?

Danny gets a comb and combs through my hair, asking, "So, we're on the same
page then, sir? It's okay if I continue doing exactly what I was going to
do before I was so rudely interrupted?" I say, "Um, yeah, yeah, yeah... go
ahead." He snickers as he puts the comb down and picks up the clippers
again. I'm like, "Um, just wondering Danny, for possible future haircuts,
um, I wonder if you've studied tutorials for haircuts other than flattops
and undercuts?" He's still holding the clippers as he nods his head, "I've
looked at some, yeah. I concentrated on the haircuts you and Rob wanted
though. That 'undercut' your brother, Rob, and that other friend of yours
wanted... and your flattop of course." My flattop... haha! I go, "I never
asked for a fucking..." but I stop. We had this battle already... and I
already lost.

Danny goes, "You never asked what?"  Shaking my head, I mutter,
"Nothing. It was nothing," and Danny says, "You tell me though: what
haircut should I learn how to do next?" and he turns the clippers on as
he's pushing my head to the side and then continues cutting almost all the
hair off the right-side of my head. I gulp as my dick begins getting hard
again.

Done all the damages possible on the right side of my head, Danny holds the
buzzing clippers away and brushes a pile of hair off my shoulder that then
slides down the cape to my lap, as he asks again, "Well, what other
haircuts do you want me to learn how to do?" Carl thinks Danny's asking him
a question again and he goes, "Oh, um, I don't know anything about
haircutting but shouldn't you know how to do a, um, regular haircut,
Danny?" Danny looks surprised Carl answered the question he addressed to
me. Looking up at Carl, he says, "Well yeah, but there are all kinds of
regular haircuts. What do you think, Dylan?" I take a deep breath and say,
"Carl's right, but we can talk about it later." He mutters, "Yeah, okay,"
and he pushes my head forward now, mumbling, "Good idea... I need to
concentrate on this right now," and the clippers go up the back of my head
all the way to the crown. I almost have an orgasm because it reminds me so
much of Ryan's barbering in Georgia. Omigod, this fucking fetish of mine!

Danny keeps the clippers moving up the back and sides of my head and when
he's done that he goes over the same areas again and by now I'm definitely
in a numbing trance with my dick a steel rod sticking straight out as much
as it can in my pants. It's a damn good thing the cape covers my lap. I'm
past the sort of scary part and now firmly into a resigned frame of mind
that, yes, is sexually submissive. It all feels sexually awesome too. And
to me, Danny has definitely been dominant although he himself hasn't the
remotest idea of that.

A British survey I read that involved 2300 people indicates 75% of humans
have a fetish of one kind or another and 50% of them entertain their fetish
at least once a week on average. The vast majority prefer to entertain
their fetish with a partner and the number-one fetish mentioned is
BDSM. There were twenty other fetishes mentioned along with mine; the
haircut fetish. Over 1700 out of 2300 surveyed, who admitted to having a
fetish of one kind or another feel there's a stigma attached to it so they
don't discuss it with hardly anyone other than their fetish partner. The
haircut fetish that I somehow have is widely practiced and professionals in
the business of cutting hair for both men and women are aware of it the
same way, for example, shoe salesmen are aware of the foot fetish... and so
forth. For some reason, the haircut fetish is considered a secret one
although there are clubs and many websites dedicated to it in countries all
over the world, which doesn't seem very 'secret' to me.

In any case, it's a real thing and, like I said, there are hundreds of
websites dedicated to it. I've never taken the time to research the haircut
fetish any further than I just mentioned so I don't know if studies have
been done specifically about it. All I do know is: if I was a few years
younger and getting this exact haircut from Danny I would have cum in my
pants by now. I first noticed I had this fetish around the time of puberty
and now I've been noticing that it's fading as I get older... but fading
slowly. And yeah, I have already mentioned a few times that I think it's
weird! All fetishes are weird, especially to people who don't have them.

As I'm reviewing all that in my mind Danny's saying something so I take a
deep breath collecting myself and then ask, "What was that?" My voice
sounded funny to me but Danny doesn't mention it. He says, "I was telling
Carl that this haircut goes quickly compared to the undercut styles." I go,
"Oh, uh huh." Oh man, my cock feels like it's vibrating in my
pants. Fortunately, I don't feel a wetness from pre-cum yet, which I worry
might happen.

Danny now has the trimmer clippers running and he's using them to outline
around my ears and then he does what I don't like... he squares off the
hair at the neckline in back. I've complained before about that to Danny
but he doesn't care because he feels his way his best so I don't bother to
even mention it now.

And Danny's right about this being a relatively quick haircut. The way he's
doing it he should be done from start to finish in about ten minutes. In
some ways that's good but in another way, well I like having a boner so if
it went on longer, no problem. Anyway, he finishes the outlining with the
trimming clippers and uses his hand to brush loose hairs off my ears and
the back of my neck, saying, "This looks awesome, Dylan. I think you'll be
pleased. Now for the top..."

He gets a brush, one I've never seen before, and a can of hairspray. Oh
shit, I hate hairspray! Danny says, "Don't worry, this hairspray has no
scent." And then, covering my eyes with his left hand, he sprays the
hairspray in my hair and uses the brush to comb the hairs up. The bristles
effectively grip the hair and pull it up in batches. Using the hairdryer
and the brush Danny shortly get all the hair on top of my head standing up
stiffly two inches long. Yeah, my hair grows fast! There's no mirror in
Danny's dorm room so I can't see it, but it feels funny sticking straight
up like this. It feels like I have a weird hat on.

Carl, who is watching, laughs and says, "Jeez, Dylan, it looks like you
stuck your finger in a light socket." Turning off the hairdryer, Danny
mumbles, "Or saw a ghost... haha." It doesn't take much to puncture my sexy
trance so it mostly evaporates when the guy's laugh, although my dick is
still hard. I'm helpless against this uninvited fetish that's in my
brain. Helpless but I also have mixed emotions about it as I've already
mentioned.

Danny turns on the new clippers; the shiny new one Robby bought online
earlier in the summer. In his left hand, Danny has a wide comb and he
stands in front of me to comb through and up the stiff hairs of my
bangs. The comb moves up from my scalp about an inch and then he runs the
clippers across the comb and a big glob of hair topples onto the cape at my
lap. Danny goes, "Oh fuck!" and I'm like, 'What?" He snickers and says,
"Just busting your balls, babe. I did it perfectly." Carl goes, "Holy
shit!" and he laughs, adding, "That looks so funny." Danny goes, "Yeah, now
it does, but watch this," and he moves the comb back a little further on
top of my head, saying, "See, Carl, I keep the comb the same height off his
scalp as the first time, and..." he runs the clippers across the comb. The
clippers buzz and then make the sound of the blades cutting through hair. A
bigger pile of my hair falls in my lap; blond hairs that look unnaturally
stiff from the hairspray. It's like hair from a wild animal; a blond boar
or something.

I'm watching Carl's reaction. He's my 'mirror'. His reaction to each sweep
of the clippers across the comb is my only indication of how things are
going. Carl's nodding his head, mumbling to Danny, "Yeah, it's nice and
even across the top where you've cut it, Danny, but the longer hairs
sticking up further back look much longer now." Was that an encouraging
comment, or...?

Only now do I remember the handheld mirror and say, "Let me have that
Goddamn handheld mirror so I can see what's happening." Danny mutters,
"Shhh, keep your head still, dammit! I'll get the mirror for you when I'm
done," and he does the comb and clippers thing three more times. Then he
steps back asking Carl, "Whaddaya think?" Carl nods his head, "Super cool,
Danny! You're a good barber." Oh, that's very encouraging! I'm like, "Let
me see."

He puts the comb down and uses the brush to brush back through my stiff
short hair a few times and then looks at Carl, who's still watching
intently. Danny's apparently looking for more praise from Carl, as he goes,
"Pretty cool, huh Carl?" Carl nods his head, saying, "I'm goofily excited
about how I'll look. Can't wait to send a selfie afterward to my boyfr..,
um, best-friend back home."

I'm like, "How about the mirror, Danny! I'm your current customer, dude, so
pay some attention to me." He's got the comb again, combing through hairs
at the crown of my head, mumbling, "Uh-huh, be patient, babe," and the
clippers run across the comb making that hair-cutting sound with the cut
hairs falling on the cape in back. He does these little cutting adjustments
at the crown a number of times.

Finally, Danny stands back appraising his work and says, "That's
it. Perfection, huh, Carl?" Carl makes a shrugging sort of move, saying,
"Um, would you do mine without cutting the hair shorter back here?" and he
puts his hand on the crown of his head, adding, "I liked it better when it
was even all the way on top like you had it first." Danny's annoyed, "Let
me decide things like that, Carl, alright? I've got the experience or, um,
not a lot of experience but at least I've researched this haircut. Anyway,
the crown isn't part of the top, per se," and he puts the clippers and comb
on the desk and passes the handheld mirror to me.

Taking the mirror I'm almost afraid to see what my hair looks
like. Glancing at the mirror I see my hair looking very much like a flattop
haircut... surprise! My guesstimation is that Danny was good to his word;
the hair on top is at least an inch long and maybe a tad longer
actually. Plus, he left slightly longer hair where my head begins curving
from the sides to the top. Damn, that's a good move, one I never thought of
when I've given guys flattop haircuts in the past, mostly to some of the
posse boys.

I'll be able to comb the top hair forward and flip up the bangs no
problem. I ask, "Are you happy with this?" He says, "Well yeah, aren't you?
Nobody could do any better. Right, Carl?" Carl nods, "Yeah, except the back
there," and he touches the crown of his head again so I lift the mirror to
see the crown of my head as Danny goes, "Yeah, yeah, yeah. That's a matter
of opinion; the hair at the crown. I'm not sure, maybe Carl's right about
that. I'll think about it."

Rolling my eyes at Danny he gets defensive, saying, "It looks great! Why ya
looking at me like that?" and he rubs the quarter inch bristles on my head
at the crown, adding, "I wanted to blend the hair length here," and he
touches the crown of my head again, adding, "With the hair length on the
back but, um..." That's fucked-up although it'll be sort of okay if I leave
my hair in this flattop condition. But, those bristly short hairs obviously
won't lie flat when I comb the top hair forward like I intend
doing. Overall though, it's not bad and I've had much worse. I mutter,
"Nobody is perfect, Danny. I think you're quite talented with this
haircutting thingie. Seriously," and I am kinda serious about that.

Danny, of course, is beaming at the compliment. Gee, he seems so, I don't
know, innocent or something. Like he really cares that I'm almost
pleased. I'm happy for Danny though, as well as relieved the haircut turned
out as good as it did. Looking at myself in the mirror again I can't help
smiling and remembering me and Rob with haircuts a lot like this one. They
weren't any better than this one, and maybe not as good. Well, except for
Danny's unnecessary adjustments at the crown.

He unclips the barber cape. It was too tight around my neck the entire time
but my mind was on other matters until now. I get off the stool rubbing my
neck as Danny shakes the cut hairs off the cape onto the floor, saying with
a grin, "Next!" He's having fun! Yeah, that's obvious! I can't help
grinning at him as I'm feeling my short hairs on the back of my head. He
says, "You look awesome, Dylan. Stop feeling that part of your head!" I
mutter, "Yeah okay, but I'm probably..." he holds up his hand, saying, "No,
don't say what you were going to say. Let me fool myself into believing
you'll leave the flattop as it is." Carl's sitting on the stool, asking,
"What are you planning to do, Dylan?"

Looking at Danny's earnest expression and Carl's troubled one, I mumble,
"Oh nothing," and Danny spreads the cape around Carl, saying, "He's going
to proudly wear that haircut. Right, Dylan?" I shrug, muttering,
"Probably," and I sit where Carl was sitting and pick up his half-read
Sports Illustrated magazine. I've no intention of reading the magazine
though... I want to watch Carl's haircut. And that's what I do while
occasionally feeling my hair with my fingers and somehow I get another
boner. For me, there's always the consolation of springing boners!

My fetish is partially active watching Danny do Carl's flattop haircut plus
there's the bonus of looking at two very attractive young men; boys
really. Both look very youthful for their ages, but then so do I. We're
lucky that way. Rob's beginning to look twenty-two. Yeah, ya know, looking
his age but he's handsome with some youthful cuteness still there in his
smile and he has a young guy's voice too. His voice can hypnotize me
without him even knowing he's doing it.

Danny takes just about the same amount of time doing Carl's haircut as he
did with mine and it's almost identical including cutting the hairs at the
crown too short. As Danny was doing that I gave him a 'look' like 'What the
fuck?' and he mumbled, "I won't do it like this next time but I wanted
identical haircuts this time for you two guys so you wouldn't feel like you
were the guinea pig I practiced on."

Nice sentiment but why the fuck he thinks making the same mistake twice
makes the mistake with my haircut any less of a mistake I can't
imagine. Still, he did a pretty fucking good job with both haircuts. My
hats off to him even though I don't know how he's able to do it without any
prior practice at all. Carl won't notice the short hair at the crown of his
head if I don't say anything, so I won't.

And, Omigod, Carl's all smiles looking at himself in the mirror, saying,
"Jeez, that's pretty cool, huh, Dylan?" Why's he care what I think? I go,
"Yep, if you say so, Carl."  Danny takes the cape off him and Carl asks me,
"Seriously, how do I look, Dylan." I go, "Good enough to eat; and your
flattop is perfect for a youngster like yourself." He grins, muttering,
"Thanks, old man." He stands up, and without thinking I stand up too and
Carl and I are hugging goofily while chuckling and running our fingers over
each other head. And, oh boy, does Carl ever smell good too!

Yeah, he smells like a teenager, which he is... duh. No, I mean he has a
sexy natural scent which isn't going to change much for a few years. He
gives me a tight hug, a really good hug that probably lasts longer than it
should. Danny yells, "Hey, hug me! I'm the fucking maestro of a barber!" We
do an awkward three-way hug and a quick thought flashes through my mind
that I'd like to do a three-way of something else with these two delicious
boys.

After hugging it out, I pick up the mirror to gawk at myself some more,
saying, "I don't believe your maestro reference applies, Danny, but you're
pretty fucking amazing. I mean, you amaze me anyway. I know this ain't as
easy as you make it seem, dude."

Danny says, "I don't know, Dylan, it seems obvious how to do it once I
watched the tutorial videos." He's on his hands and knees with a dustpan
and brush gathering the light red and blond hairs in a fairly large pile,
saying, "Thank you, for the compliment though. It means a lot coming from
you." Kneeling down, I hold the dustpan so he can sweep the hair onto it,
as I ask, "And that's the total story; you just studied the tutorials? You
didn't practice on some secret guys someplace?" As we both stand up, he
goes, "Nope, no secret haircut practicing. Who am I gonna practice on? I
just studied the tutorials, period!" He grins, "I'm a natural, huh?" I
mumble, "You're something alright!"

Carl's helping by brushing off the barber equipment and putting each piece
back in the plastic Baggies the way Rob had them. He says, "I'm gonna keep
this flattop all through freshman year if it's okay with you, Danny. I
mean, if you're okay with giving me haircuts," Danny goes, "Yeah, sure. Ya
know, with a flattop haircut you need to get it cut at least every three
weeks; every two weeks would be even better. That's what the professional
on one of the videos said." Carl goes, "Okay, Danny, that's what I'll do
and thanks. Like I said, I feel cool, ya know, like some juvenile
delinquent living in the fifties!" He laughs as he looks at himself in the
mirror again. Fucking kids!

When everything is cleaned up and put away I get another
brainstorm... another late one. I'm like, "Hey, I was supposed to give you
a haircut too, Danny." Fuck, I wanted to do that! Everything's put away
though. He says, "Aah, not today. Tomorrow maybe. Me getting a haircut now
would ruin the successful mood I'm in, ya know?" I go, "No, I don't know,"
and Carl asks about me being a barber too, so we talk about that for a
while.

A little later Carl asks me, "Dylan, would you take a picture of me and
Danny?" He holds out his cell phone and I take a picture of them with have
their arms around each other, both smiling brightly. Immediately after I
snap the picture we all look at it. Carl goes, "Awesome! And now one of me
and you, Dylan. If you'll take the picture, Danny." He nods and takes the
camera. Carl puts his arm around me and I get a good inhale of that boy's
sexy young scent as I'm putting my arm around the back of his neck. Danny
snaps the picture and then all three of us check that one out with Carl
saying, "Perfect! I got a pix with Rob at practice on Friday. My boyfriend,
um, my best friend is gonna be so jealous when he sees how awesome you
three guys are."

Danny goes, "Well, that's done, huh? So... we're done here I guess." Carl's
feeling the short hairs on the back of his head looking at the pictures, so
Danny adds, "So, what's up with you, Carl? I mean, what do you have going
for the rest of the afternoon?" I'm thinking: is it possible for Danny to
be any more rudely obvious that he wants Carl to leave? Jesus!

No problem though as Carl looks startled and goes, "Oh no!" and checks the
time on his phone, moaning, "Jeez, I'm sorry, but I've gotta run right
now. I have an appointment with the housing person about matching me up
with another roommate. Oh gosh, I'm due there in like four minutes. Thanks
for reminding me... and thanks again for this awesome haircut, Danny," and
he gives Danny another quick hug. He's a hugger.

I give Carl a pat on his shoulder, saying, "You're looking good, Carl." He
pats the top of his head, grinning and saying, "So do you, Dylan. What time
is, um, or should I be at your place for dinner." I shrug, "Around six I
guess," and Danny says, "I'll give you a ride over, Carl." He mumbles, "Oh,
wow, thanks!" What, was he planning to walk to the apartment? Carl says,
"I'll text you, Danny, and thanks for everything." I slap hands with him as
he says, "See you boys tonight," and he leaves.

Danny's shaking his head slowly as he comes over to where I'm standing near
the door. He puts a hand on each of my shoulders, saying, "Fuck, I thought
he'd never leave." He has a few of Carl's red hairs stuck to the front of
his brown hair. They somehow drifted off Carl's head during his haircut. I
pick them off Danny's bangs and show the hairs to him as I grin, like'
'look what I found!'. He ignores the hairs so I drop them on the floor and
Danny goes, "I've got a hard dick for you, babe, and I'm gonna get to fuck
you in a bed for once. Let's get naked, flattop-boy!"

to be continued...

         Donny Mumford    thinat20@yahoo.com      donnymumforf@outlook.com

========================================================

Hoping some readers may be interested, there are books of mine published
and available on Amazon.com. Anyone who has Kindle can download them for
next to nothing. The books are usually around ten dollars. They are about a
19 year old gay boy (Oliver) who has a far different life than Dylan's. And
there is a new book, 'Mike, his Bike and Me'. Please at least check them
out by typing my name on Amazon.com. Information about the story in the
books can be found in some detail there. Thank you.

Donny Mumford

========================================================

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