Date: Sun, 29 Jul 2007 17:05:51 -0700 (PDT) From: kevin Donovan Subject: chapter 25, the association, gay male, college THE ASSOCIATION CHAPTER 25 Disclaimer: This is a work of gay fiction. It will contain scenes describing sex between adult males. If that offends you, if you are underage, or if it is illegal to possess such material where you are, then stop now! I appreciate your constructive comments. Email me at letsgonaked2000@yahoo.com Copyright held by the author. Do not reproduce without permission. COMPLETION The week following was our twelfth, and last at The Farm. It was eerily different, as if a climate change had occurred. We had rain the first two days of the week, and it seemed to fit our mood. Not that rain affected our early morning run, it just meant more slipping around, and wet shoes to deal with afterward. On Monday, we took the SAT test, the one that had gotten us into our colleges. Scores were produced instantly, and I was astonished at the improvement in mine. Before, I barely squeaked in, with a push from someone with influence; now, damn, I ought to be on scholarship. Nicholas didn't have the big deficit I had, but he was surprised and pleased with his score, too. On Tuesday, we took post-tests on all the units we had covered all summer. Placed next to the pre-test at the beginning of the summer, the amount I had learned was boggling. That evening, there were designer-label tuxedoes hanging in our rooms, with all the black-tie accessories. We were to have an elegant dinner dance that night to test our table etiquette and brush up our dance steps one more time before departure. I wondered for a second if I would actually remember how to dress myself. But once the clothes were on, I had to admit, I looked sensational. The meal had nine courses, each a tiny but succulent serving, served on bone china, with crystal stemware and sterling tableware, and exotic floral centerpieces. Each course had its own wine. They actually brought in a string quintet for dinner and a dance band afterwards. I have no idea what cover story they gave the musicians to explain three dozen handsome, urbane young men dining and dancing so expertly-together-out in the hinterlands. It was an enjoyable evening, however. Almost every man there tapped me to dance, and most offered me the lead. In between, I got a number of dances with my mate, as well, alternating lead. As pleasant as the night was, Nicholas and I were happy to get back to our little room and get naked again. But upon opening the door, we found a further surprise. There was a set of luggage for each of us in our room. In one case, there was a week's supply of new underclothes and socks, all top quality. The other cases were empty. "What should we do with these tuxes, you think?" I puzzled. "They're custom made to our measurements, dude," answered Nicholas. "Pack 'em." So we folded the suits neatly into our new suitcases, and put the shoes into travel bags. Next morning, Wednesday, we were breakfasting naked, as usual, when Adam entered to announce that we would have shortened morning and afternoon sessions, with a long lunch period inserted into the middle of the day. We'd all meet in the ballroom at ten-thirty. The morning study session, which consisted of review of things we'd missed on the post-test, went fast. With excitement and a tad of apprehension, we trooped up to the ballroom. It was set up almost like a men's haberdashery-clothing and accessories all over the place. It even had manikins and displays set up for ease in locating styles. The fashion consultants from presentations earlier in the summer were there, measuring tapes around shoulders, looking severe. At one side, half a dozen tailors waited beside sewing machines for alterations. At the other, three dozen card tables were set up, each with one of our names on it. Adam called us to attention. "Your task, men, is to get outfitted for fall and winter. In case you haven't noticed, you haven't a thing to wear. And back home, a) the stuff you left behind is totally unfit for you to be seen in, b) it won't fit you now, anyway, and c) we've taken the liberty of entering your closets and disposing of it all. But don't just start grabbing, like you used to do. First, there is a personalized color chart and a style sheet for each of you. Advice on what to wear, and what not to wear. Follow it. Plenty of advisers here to help you. Use them. You need school clothing for at least a week, a couple of blazer or sport coat outfits, a couple of suits, shirts and ties for all of that, shoes to match. Get a golf outfit, a tennis one, a riding one, a skiing one, hiking wear, jeans, don't forget running gear, you're not getting out of that-well, it's all on the sheet. Check 'em off as you choose them, and pile the duds on your table." Shopping was never like this! Everything there was great-looking, top notch stuff. I'd have been delighted with any of it, but I dutifully consulted my color chart. I was to move to more bright colors than my previous palate, bold, pure, true colors. Nicholas looked best in the "winter" hues, too. When I saw my new apparel all piled up on my table, I thought sadly of how much money I had wasted in the past on olive, and khaki and rusty colors, which would look great on Patrick or Dennis, but made me look nondescript. Each time we settled on an ensemble, we had to put it on, get looked and felt over by a consultant, who pulled and tutted at us, and walk past all the leaders to get approval. Sometimes, items got marked for alterations, and sometimes, the guys just said, "Eyuk, take that back." When it was over, I had a table-full of clothing I was more than happy with. It was not really such a great stock of clothing, considering that it was all I now owned, but it was the most I had ever obtained at one time, even for one season, and it was the finest selection of labels and fabrics I had ever owned. I realized I didn't really need such a lot of clothing if what I had was great quality and just the right styles and colors for me. Nicholas was glowing with grateful pleasure. He did not have quite the privileged background that I had, and this was a big deal for him, though he tried not to let on. He looked so outstandingly good in all of his new outfits that I wanted to rip them off of him, one by one, and devour his flesh. But that's just me. We left our groaning tables to go down for lunch, all gabbing excitedly like schoolgirls over our new clothing selections. If this was before lunch, what in the world was in store for us after? We hardly tasted our salad Nicoise. Our after-lunch session was to be in the downstairs parlor, while the ballroom haberdashery was being dismantled. We found chairs in a circle and took seats by pairs, as usual. Adam strode in looking more serious this time. "Men," he began, "The future we've been talking about and preparing you all for is now almost here. One thing I want to say right off the bat, in case anyone is concerned about it: every one of you in this class has passed your evaluations and is now ready to be received as full members of The Association. That induction ceremony will be Saturday night. Frankly, if anyone had fallen short, we would've removed him before now, but you didn't know that. So congratulations to all." He and the other leaders grinned and clapped. "So you are about to enter your new lives. I have here a packet of information for each of you. In it, you will find several things. First, there are suggestions for your course of study, beginning with the fall semester. Now, don't get excited, these are suggestions only. You can do what you want. For many of you, no changes are even being recommended. For some, out of consideration of interests and aptitudes, and so forth, we think some modifications would be beneficial to you, and we hope you'll consider them. That's all. Second, some of you need improved surroundings. Either better accommodations, in keeping with your new situation, or in a few cases, even better schools. We've arranged for those things for you, with your approval, of course. Thirdly, each one of you is being assigned a sponsor, an experienced member of The Association, to be a kind of big brother, adviser, and friend to you. Don't underestimate the value of this sponsor-he knows the commitment he is making to you, and he willingly undertakes it. He will be of enormous help to you in the years to come, as you will one day do for those who come after you. Each of you has been specifically selected by the man whom you are assigned to. Finally, some of you had cars back home, some did not. If you had a car, you will find upon returning home that you have traded it in. In your envelope, you will find the key to your new set of wheels. Drive carefully-this is the only one we'll ever give you! The next one, you have to pay for yourself. Now, come forward as I call your name, to receive your packet. Don't open it yet, until all have been given out. Then, you might want to be by yourself, or just with your partner, when you open your envelope. You have until 3:30 to think over what you find. Then report to afternoon groups." I was among the early ones to get my envelope. I could feel the lump of a car key in it. I got a knot in my throat. What kind of people would just buy me a car? Did my dad do it? And who was to be my sponsor? Dad again? Or...could it be Adam? Nicholas gripped his envelope tightly. I thought he had a tear in his eye. The calling of names ceased, and we were free to go. "Where would you like to go? Can I be with you?" I asked. "Definitely. Well, let's see....How about that big tree beside the pasture gate, where the bench is?" That was a few minutes' walk away, but it was nice out now, and it would be private. I concurred, and we set out walking wordlessly, lost in our own thoughts, until we were ten yards from our tree. "O. K., let's plan this thing. Let's take the sheets in order. And save the key for last, O. K.? Because after I see the key, I won't be able to concentrate on the other." Nicholas had never had a car of his own, had always borrowed one of his parents'. I had one, a '92 Wrangler that had seen better days, but not lately. "Agreed." We ran our fingers under the envelope flaps. "First sheet. It's the blue one," directed Nicholas. We pulled them out and read them slowly. There was some general, courteous introduction, mostly summarizing what Adam had already told us. Then, the specific suggestions: I was to remain at the university, but take a more generalized course of study, hold off on the pre-med until next fall at earliest. I should take the spring semester off, since I would be filming. Then, depending on how I liked that, make the decision on future course of study. I was not shocked by any of this. But clearly, the team was communicating well behind the scenes. Nicholas' advice was very similar. However, it contained one more paragraph. Whether he changed majors or kept to his present course, he would do just as well to graduate from my university as from his. If he wished to transfer, it could be arranged. "Do it." "We'll see. Or maybe next year." "Or I could move to be with you. Or we both could go to UCLA, or someplace." "They wouldn't accept you at either one. Yet. But next year, anything goes." So Nicholas was not going to jump into anything. We still had some work to do. "The next sheet is yellow." We both took ours out. Mine observed that my living arrangements were based on old habits, desire to save money and be independent of my parents, and lack of effort. Well, that was the old me. The suggestion was to take a unit in a new condo development not far from campus, with off-street parking. Why pay rent? My payment would be the same as previously, only it would go, without interest, toward equity in the apartment when I sold out, presumably upon graduation. Then, I would have a down-payment toward my next digs. If I agreed tonight, my few remaining belongings would be there when I left The Farm on Sunday, and I would receive my keys before departure. Oh, and the condo would be appropriately furnished. I felt a little stir of the hairs on the back of my neck. Damn. These guys are good. They know all about me, and they take care of all the major needs. It was a no- brainer acceptance for me. I looked at Nicholas. He shrugged. "It says due to certain unresolved issues in my life, there is no recommendation for any change at the present time. End of story." I told him my news, and he seemed amused. "Let's see what size bed they put in there. Am I being ganged up on?" I gave him my long-suffering look. "O. K., I guess the sponsor is next. Who do you want yours to be?" "Oh, I dunno, really. You hoping for Adam?" "I suppose. But then, he's in Europe so much. I don't know. I don't want it to be my dad, I want someone closer to my age. I mean, I already have my relatives." "It could be anyone we've met, even just a quick suck down in the Crypt." Well I knew it. There was nothing for it but to pull out the pink sheet. A wave of relief and awe swept over me. I had been chosen by Jack, the famous actor. Wow! What a great deal! I looked eagerly at Nicholas, barely able to contain myself. His eyebrows arched coyly. "Who?" I demanded. "How about Joe?" he grinned. "How about if I got Jack?!" Nicholas showed me every one of his pearly teeth in his wide-open grin. We were both truly surprised, never having even considered that those guys would have or take the time to do something like this. Our heads were spinning. It took several minutes to calm down and realize that there was only one more thing left in the envelope-our car key. We drew them out at the same time and dangled them in front of one another's faces. They were identical devices, with the Mercedes-Benz logo emblazoned on them. ***** I was resolved not to get down on my knees and beg Nicholas to come and move in with me, despite my strong inclination in that direction. I knew it had to be his own desire, too, for it to work out. I could partly understand his hesitation, but only partly. After all, I had said I was going to break it off with Stephanie. Did he not trust me to follow through once I saw her pretty face? Or did he have hesitations of his own? That last question was the one that tormented me. At dinner, I found that not every man got the Benz. That was the top prize, for those with the highest scores, and in addition to me and Nicholas, Anthony, Brendan, Jason, and Matthew got one. Others got Beamers, Audis, Jags, or Lexus. Four were being transferred to top-tier universities based on their new scores, and influence. Jason was glowing with the news that he was accepted in the program he had dreamed of, but not qualified for previously. Several had new housing arrangements similar to mine. Afterward, each of us met with one of the leaders for a ten minute interview, to see how we were receiving the suggestions in the packets, and what choices we would be making. Adam met with me and Nicholas, separately. I went first, and assured Adam that all the suggestions were on target for me, and it was a go on all counts. "You know how lucky you are to get Jack, don't you?" he asked. "I do, but there was a part of me that wanted someone else." "Understood. And honored. But Jack can be more help to you than anyone else, no question. And he's a great guy. He's never sponsored before, you're the first. I think he'll do a great job for you." "Who was your sponsor?" "Is. It's a permanent relationship. It's Franco." "Damn. And he didn't even bid on you at the auction. Is there a problem?" "No, not at all, I knew up front he couldn't bid on me, and I understood perfectly. Besides, Colin and I had a great time. We served as naked waiters at a cocktail party in Manhattan. Next night, we went naked, on leash, to three after-hours clubs, and then got walked up Fifth Avenue from Times Square to the Park. Peed on utility poles, and everything. They'll be talking about it for years." Nicholas went next, and I stood back. I didn't hear anything that was said. But I didn't like the seriousness of the talk that was going on. At one point, Nicholas seemed to squinch up his eyes, and Adam took his hand. I couldn't help but feel that I was being a jerk to Nicholas in some way, hurting him, and I was such a jerk, I didn't even know how I was doing it. I wished I could figure it out. I wanted the man I loved to stop squinching up his eyes. Back in the room, Nicholas was just a bit subdued, but being heroic. I made love to him as tenderly as I knew how, and he reciprocated with real passion. Whatever it was with him, it didn't involve the sack. I went to sleep with my dick still in his willing ass.