Before posting this chapter, I feel that I should remind readers that this story is set in the year 1965. I have received email from someone who is far more conversant in history than I am, who has pointed out several flaws in my story. For those I apologize. There will be others; some will be intentional, others inadvertent.

Things were very different in 1965. People were far less informed about different concepts, in particular things related to sexuality. For the most part, there was far less understanding, and certainly less tolerance. On the other hand, there were fewer laws then to limit the activities of those who were "different" in someway. Even prayer in the public schools was allowed in 1965! But we are far more civilized now, aren't we? We are far more sophisticated, aren't we?

The Interstate System was in its infancy in 1965. McDonald's had a few restaurants across the country, but it was certainly not the household word it is today. Wendy's, Hardee's, Bojangle's were all unheard of. Adidas was a very new name, but most of the other sneaker manufacturers were still unknown.

On the positive side, AIDS was yet to be discovered. So if you were sexually active, either gay or straight, all you had to contend with was discrimination, prejudice, and bigotry. Yes, there were other sexually transmitted diseases you could catch (called venereal diseases then), but for the most part they were easily detectable and curable if caught early. In 1965, if you were gay, all you had to do was to convince your parents, loved ones, yourself, that this was not something you had chosen, but in fact you had been chosen, for whatever reason.

Yes, that's all. Life was simpler then, right?

In another two weeks I will celebrate my sixty-second birthday, and I do mean celebrate! Frankly I have heard about the "good old days" since I was six years old! Now that I am "old," I can relate. I loved the fifties! The sixties! The seventies! But each new decade for me has brought something good, something bad. I can point to every one of my sixty-two years, well, those I can remember, and I can show that it was both better and worse.

Perhaps the most important point of all is that we cannot choose when we live, so why spend energy trying to decide which age was better? Why not just evaluate the here and now and make the best of it? We can't do anything about it anyway!

Okay, having said all that, why then did I choose 1965 as the year to set this fantasy? Simple, really. I absolutely LOVE the 1965 Mustang! No, we're not there in the story yet, but we're getting there. Also, I grew up, sowed my wild oats as it were in that age, before the hell that we call AIDS. In the very best of times, the plausibility of this story is questionable; but today it is downright impossible! So what you are reading, folks, is the ranting of an old man who lives in the past, at least some of the time.

This story is fiction. It depicts, sometimes explicitly, sex between teenage boys, between boys and men, and between boys and females, both teenage and adult. If you find such things offensive, or reading such things is illegal where you live, please read no further.

Dan Chapter 3: Jerry

The sun was already climbing in the south Georgia sky when Jerry Wallace pulled his Lincoln onto Interstate 95 South. He settled into the comfortable leather upholstered seat and noted with satisfaction that another warm and pleasant day was in store as the big car accelerated easily to 60 miles per hour.

Jerry had been working hard for over a year without a break when, two weeks ago, he decided to drive north to Georgia to do some fishing. He had never been fishing before in his life, but had always heard how great it was, so now was the time to give it a try. But of course with no experience and no one to teach him, the trip had been a flop. He had driven to a few lakes, trying to watch the fishermen to see what they did and how they did it, but in a week he'd never wet a line himself. In the end he had just driven to a beach and spent the second week roaming about, but of course there were few other people around. Even though the weather was still quite warm, it was November and most of the beach regulars were in school. Now as he headed for Florida he was depressed, although he would never admit it, even to himself.

What the heck, he told himself as he drove, Who needs that sort of thing anyway? I've got my business going the way I want it, I'm making lots of money and don't have to answer to anyone, so who needs anything more? Indeed, Jerry had done very well considering the start he'd had. He had spent the first fourteen years of his life in and out of various foster homes, then took to the streets of Atlanta when he'd had enough of homes where he really didn't fit. He very quickly learned that there was only one way for a fourteen year old to make a living on his own, so before he really knew very much about sex, he had found himself selling sexual favors to just about anyone who was interested. And there were lots of people interested, Jerry learned, especially when the subject was so young and handsome. So in many ways Jerry had already lived a pretty full life, having had more experiences, good and bad, than most men four times his age. And he had survived all the horrors of street life: drugs, street gangs, crime syndicates, pimps, starvation and disease. In many ways, Jerry knew, the inner city was more dangerous than the jungles of Africa, and he had seen and overcome it all.

Two of Jerry's friends had been murdered, both crimes remaining unsolved because no one cared, and no one even claimed the bodies. Jerry didn't know who had done it, but the word on the streets was that one of them was killed by a trick who suddenly became remorseful at what he'd just done; the other, it was suspected, had been executed by the mob.

He had lost five friends to drugs. Three had overdosed and died, the other two had been caught and sent home where they were serving time in a juvenile facility. For reasons he didn't understand, Jerry had the insight to use each of these incidents and others to his benefit. He learned from them, watched constantly for pitfalls and avoided them.

Jerry had discovered that he was a homosexual before he even knew there was such a word. As he matured and learned more about "it", he'd had the odd girl friend; but by then the only girls he knew were in the same business he was, so the relationships had always been shallow and unrewarding, and they never lasted long. He had also had a few gay relationships, but they too had always ended in failure. So he had concentrated on his work, trying to learn from the experiences of himself and others. He had by this time acquired a few regular customers in positions of wealth and power, and had capitalized on these contacts. He had, of course, heard on the streets of blackmail and all the ways to accomplish it, but Jerry had found that his customers so appreciated his efforts to please that they were more than willing to help him out when they could. So he had chosen the less threatening approach, and his business had grown as knowledge spread of this young queer who was clean, affectionate, and discreet.

Jerry learned early on in his endeavors that he had to enjoy his work in order to give enjoyment. That had been a pretty big task at first, but eventually he had learned to genuinely relish what he was doing. There were perverted, sometimes sick, things that he just didn't want to do; those he avoided wherever possible. There were clients that he found more disgusting than attractive; these he worked extra hard at seeing the positive side and ignoring the negative. As a result, Jerry discovered that his business, although society in general would hardly agree, was very little different from any other: If he gave his customers what they wanted he thrived; if not, he failed.

As the miles melted beneath the wheels of his new Lincoln, Jerry began taking stock of his life. Still only nineteen, he was very comfortable financially. He had bought the car, his first, in the spring. To Jerry, a Lincoln Continental represented a crowning achievement, having been his ambition for as long as he could remember. When he had counted out the cash the salesman, who hadn't really taken him seriously, almost had a stroke! He had a very comfortable town house, a wardrobe to rival that of a prince, had learned how to handle himself in almost any social situation, and had a long list of clients anxious for his services. So, he said to himself, What more could I ask for? I've got all the things I ever wanted, and I'm still not even twenty years old! So why then did he feel as if he had nothing? Why was he considering driving his beautiful new car off a bank, or into a tree? Why had he become so fascinated with death and suicide, after surviving all the hazards of being a small and frightened kid on the streets? Jerry didn't know the answer, and probably wouldn't have admitted it anyway, because there was little he could do about it.

Jerry had heard a song somewhere: Peggy Lee's recording entitled "Is that all there is?" When he'd first heard it he had thought how terrible, to think that way. Now he was thinking that way himself, and that song kept buzzing round and round in his head, tormenting him, taunting him. Indeed, was that all there was?

Jerry was alone. His parents, the only family he knew of, had died when he was four; none of his foster parents had provided the sort of relationship he wanted to continue; all of his love affairs up to this point had failed; those of his clients that he liked were friendly enough, but they all had their own lives, lives that didn't include having a young gay friend. So he had to be content with their passionate meetings, then be strangers until their next encounter. So Jerry's life was an empty shell, filled now with all the things that he'd felt so important at one time: money, a nice place to live, a Lincoln, nice clothes. He had all these things now, but there was no one to share them with, no one to care that he'd worked so hard. So what was there to live for? What goals could he set for himself? And why bother having goals anyway? Is that all there is?

Jerry was beginning to wonder who, if anyone, would shed a tear for him if he never made it back to Daytona. In his mind he pictured his prized Lincoln lying twisted and mangled at the bottom of some deep ravine, having completely missed the bridge, bouncing off the concrete abutment in its wild plunge to the depths below. Inside, of course, was the smashed remains of the young queer from Daytona who had everything. Everything, that is, except someone to weep over him; someone to write an appropriate epitaph and see to it that he had a proper burial.

It was through blurry, tear filled eyes that Jerry spotted two young teens thumbing a ride. His attention was drawn immediately by the contrast of their appearance. They were extremely good looking, yet they seemed rumpled and dirty. Obviously runaways, he thought, and looking for a lone faggot like me to rob and maybe kill. Of course he had read and heard of guys that cruise the highways, making sexual connections with hitchhikers for a quick hour of fun on some quiet country road. But Jerry had no interest in casual sex; his business had dulled his enthusiasm for just about all erotica because, though he didn't realize it, he longed for a relationship that lasted weeks or months, not hours. So the highway cruising game had no attraction for Jerry.

Jerry had also read of hitchhikers, traveling in two's and three's, whose only purpose was to get picked up by a lone driver such as Jerry with a nice car, lots of money, and no defense. They would hit him on the head, stab or shoot him, then take his money and car and be three states away before their victim was even found. No, Jerry wanted no part of this little game. He had everything to lose and nothing to gain, and he knew it. And besides, he had all but decided that he would never reach his destination anyway, and he had no desire to kill anyone but himself. So it was some invisible force, some unseen hand or unconscious reflex that lifted Jerry's right foot off the gas pedal and dropped it hard on the brakes.

Charlie and Dan were out on I-95 again, somewhere in southern Georgia, and had been standing in the sun for two hours waiting for a ride. The past two days had been a bit more pleasant and their spirits, though not high, were better after they left the big cities of the Northeast. They had begun to consider walking to a truck stop when a Lincoln Continental screeched to a halt. They ran up and started to get in. Noticing that the back seat was full of just about everything imaginable, they both hopped in the front, throwing their packs in the back as they did. They had been on the road over two weeks now, and getting a bit tired of traveling. It's a bit odd that they didn't just stop, but they had set their goal on Miami and were heading there as if drawn by a magnet. Jerry gasped as the two clambered in. God, he thought, Those two are as gorgeous as any of my fantasies!

"Hi, guys, Where ya goin'?" A young, handsome man about twenty said as the two runaways got in.

"Miami," Dan answered. The driver was dressed in white cutoff shorts and a loose shirt, open halfway down his chest. His arms and legs, and what they could see of his chest, were well tanned from many hours in the Florida sun. He was somewhat more mature than his passengers, but certainly not old by anyone's measure. Charlie and Dan couldn't help noticing how attractive he looked, and made a mental note to get some clothes as soon as they got settled.

"Well, I can take you as far as Daytona," the driver said cheerfully, and the two weary travelers both let out a sigh of relief.

"Been on the road long?" Jerry asked.

"No, not really," Charlie said quickly before Dan had a chance to answer. Dan still could not get used to the idea of making up lies on the fly, and Charlie felt that they shouldn't let out too much of the truth to total strangers. "We're from Montreal," he continued. "Our parents died last spring and they put us in different foster homes. We couldn't stand to be separated so we got together and took off. We're going to see an uncle in Miami."

"So you're brothers?" he asked.

"That's right."

"Too bad about your folks. By the way, my name's Jerry." He stuck out his hand and Charlie noticed two diamond rings on the fingers. He thought they must have been fake, because the stones were the largest he'd ever seen. They each shook his hand and told him their names.

The three talked about everything under the sun as they drove along. Jerry was a pleasant sort, easy going and not bothered in the least by the youth of his passengers. "How old did you say you were?" he asked.

"We didn't, but I'm eighteen and Dan's sixteen," Charlie lied. Again small talk.

"What do you do for a living?" Charlie asked, expecting the answer to be something along the lines of a gangster or some other illegal and probably threatening activity, what with the Lincoln and all.

"I'm a hustler," he said, matter-of-factly. Jerry had already decided that he'd do nothing to force himself on these two; but on the other hand, he wasn't going to pass up an opportunity either. His new friends had been the first sexual attraction he had felt for a long time! And so he'd decided he might as well let them know from the start what he's all about. And they certainly weren't hard to look at. Jerry even found himself thinking he wouldn't mind sharing his bed with either one of them, should the opportunity present itself.

"What's a hustler?" Dan asked. Jerry started to laugh.

"Well, it's the best way I know to do what you like to do best, and get paid well for doing it. Look, guys, I'm onto you."

"What do you mean?" Charlie was starting to get nervous now. His concept of a hustler was someone who made his living playing pool or poker, or maybe even turning runaways in for whatever reward they could collect.

"For starters," Jerry answered, "you're not brothers; you've said too many conflicting things about your families. You're not eighteen," he said to Charlie, "And you're not from Montreal. I've been there, and unless there are two, the city you describe is not Montreal. Look, I ran away myself when I was fourteen, so I know the game. I'm not going to turn you in because I've already committed a federal offense by transporting minors across the Florida line. And I tend to avoid the police whenever I can anyway.

"I don't know why you left home and it doesn't matter. Question is, how do you expect to live? There's no uncle, is there?" Dan and Charlie said nothing. Jerry didn't know why he was opening up his soul to these two, but he couldn't help himself. They were so young, so beautifully naive, so full of life, Jerry instantly wanted to be a part of their lives. His attraction wasn't particularly physical, at least not completely. His fantasies were running wild as he pictured himself as their brother, father, guardian, anything that would make his life and theirs converge. At last, he thought, someone to share... maybe...

"I want to tell you what I do," he said, "Because it may help you some time in the future. You see, for starters, I'm gay. Does that mean anything to y'all?" Charlie and Dan looked at each other, remembering Roger and the hell they'd gone through in Boston. They still didn't answer, but nodded slightly. They had never used the word "gay" in the context of homosexuality, but they were quickly learning its new meaning. "Well," Jerry continued, "there are a lot more gays around than you'd think... some men with families, kids, the whole bit. I sleep with them, do intimate things with them, and make them feel good for money... lots of it."

"You mean like a prostitute?" Dan asked with a gasp.

"That's right. When I was only fourteen there wasn't much chance to get a job on my own, so I took to the streets. I did some stealing and such, but I wasn't comfortable with that sort of thing. It wasn't long until someone told me about 'the business'. He said that with a body like mine I shouldn't ever have to worry about money. And now I'm telling you the same thing. With looks like you two have, you'll have no trouble at all making a fortune!" Jerry's hand had wandered down to Dan's leg. Dan recoiled slightly, and Jerry took his hand away. They were thinking of Jason and thinking, maybe this is what it means to be gay, sort of expected as part of the culture, like screwing girls if you were straight. Without even thinking about it, Dan took Jerry's hand gently and replaced it on his knee. Jerry gasped. He moved it up and down Dan's lithe thigh, being careful not to touch anything but leg.

Charlie's mind was whizzing at a thousand miles a minute again. He couldn't believe that this guy just out and admitted what Charlie and Dan considered to be a fairly big disgrace, something that was evidently a part of them but certainly not something to be admitted. The two were together because they were in the same boat, because they were loyal to each other and in love, but they never thought they could accept without some trepidation what was obviously the truth, that they were homosexuals. But to admit it freely to strangers, well, that was something I would never do, they told themselves.

"So you just go stand on the street, and guys pick you up?" Charlie asked in disbelief, thinking again of Jason. "Isn't that dangerous?"

"Something like that, or at least that's how I got started. There are lots of young guys that do that, but most of them don't last long. They either get sick and die from some disease, or they get mugged and killed, or they get burned out on drugs. Now I've built up a clientele so I don't have to go out on the street. They call me and leave their number on my machine, and we work that way.

"Look," Jerry said suddenly, "I'll give you my number, in case you get in over your heads. If I'm not mistaken, you two are gay too, am I right?" Dan and Charlie both shook their heads.

"No", they said weakly. They were still not ready to admit to a stranger what they knew to be the truth.

"All right. I understand that too. I did all sorts of things with guys for three years, all the time saying I was doing it only to make money. Truth was, I loved it."

As they drove along, Jerry fished out a business card and handed it over. Charlie took the card and read it with amazement. "Jerry's Escort Service - Massage a specialty. Phone 555-3851." Massage! Dan thought, Last time I knew someone that does massages, I got a lot more than my back rubbed! At the same instant, Charlie was still thinking of Dan and his encounters with Kirk. Could this guy teach him to do massage so he could please Dan? Would he give them a massage? If so, would it lead to something more? Charlie was rather shocked at himself when he realized what was in his mind: that intimacy with this guy didn't seem at all unpleasant. He observed Jerry's hand, still roaming slowly up and down Dan's thigh. His eyes wandered a little higher. The unmistakable lump in Dan's pants indicated that he was having similar thoughts.

"You must get women too, with a card like that," Charlie commented.

"Well, I get lots of chances, but I turn most of them down. They'd love your juicy young bodies, so if that's your interest, I could point lots of business your way. Me, I'm gay through and through. I've tried women, but they're too complicated. All they do is mix up your head, so I just leave them alone. Frankly I don't even know if I could perform with a woman. I escort them sometimes because that's my business, but that's all I ever do."

The three boys drove along all day, stopped for lunch, and drove again, all the time talking about Jerry's business. He was just nineteen, owned the Lincoln and more clothes, he said, than Charlie and Dan had ever seen. "I noticed you looking at my rings, Charlie," he said. "Well, they're real. Another fringe benefit of this business is that you make contacts, and sometimes you get things real cheap, or outright gifts."

The sun was pretty well gone and it was getting dark by the time the Lincoln rolled into Daytona. For the first time since they had left home the boys noticed there were Christmas lights everywhere, but then why not? It was the first week of December. The sight of all the lights and the warmth of the air just added to the magic of their adventure. As they turned off the freeway Jerry invited his guests to stay with him for a few days. "I don't know how you feel about staying with a faggot," he said with a grin, "but I promise not to bother you. Just helping you out is enough for me, and I get more sex than I can handle anyway. I won't lie and say that I don't find you both attractive, because I do. I'd kill to get into either of your pants, but that's up to you." Dan looked at Charlie as much as to say "What do you think?"

"Well," Charlie said, both to Dan and Jerry, "We do have to stay somewhere, and it's getting late to start looking for a place now." And so they decided to stay with Jerry for a while. Charlie was secretly thinking it would be nice to have someone they could tell their secret to, and Jerry certainly seemed understanding, but he said nothing.

The Lincoln rounded a corner and pulled into a private drive in front of a large town house structure. "Well, last stop... everybody out," Jerry called as he swung out of the driver's seat and grabbed two suitcases and three or four parcels. "You guys grab your stuff and what you can carry of mine, and we'll get the rest in the morning." They quickly obeyed, and Charlie wondered for the first time if he lived alone. They had never brought up the point, but now he was a little nervous.

He quickly learned he had nothing to fear though, as Jerry put his key in the lock and opened the front door. He turned on the lights and the trio were greeted by a beautiful living room, tastefully furnished, and very, very clean. The two visitors both gasped at the splendor of the place. "I take it you approve," Jerry said with satisfaction.

"Wow, this is a palace!" Charlie exclaimed. "You live here all by yourself? How can you afford it?"

"I told you I make lots of money," Jerry said with obvious pride, "And you two can stay as long as you like. Only one thing, though." Oh, oh, Dan thought, still remembering Roger, Here comes the catch. "You'll have to double up, 'cause I only have two bedrooms furnished. That is, unless one of you wants to sleep with me," he laughed. "Anyway, unless I got y'all figured wrong, you won't mind sharing a room at all."

He ushered the two awe struck boys into the apartment and showed them to their room. It was rather on the small side compared to the living room, but still more than large enough for two runaway teens. The same luxurious attention to detail was here, with pictures on the walls, a TV, and furniture shining. "You two get washed up or whatever, and when you're more comfortable c'mon downstairs and we'll figure out what we're going to do for amusement." And with that he closed the door behind himself leaving them alone.

As they got undressed to get cleaned up, they heard Jerry downstairs playing back the messages on his answering machine. There must have been fifty of them! "Wadda ya think?" Dan asked Charlie.

"What do you mean?" he inquired.

"You know, about the business he's in. He's sure a nice guy... I really like him, and I think he likes us."

"Yeah, he likes us all right, specially right here," and Charlie grabbed Dan's crotch, and was surprised to find that it was again ready for action.

"Well, what's wrong with that?" Dan defended, "He doesn't do anything more than we do, only he gets paid for it." Charlie had to admit that Dan had a point. He had never thought of doing those things with anyone else, but now that he was forced to think about it he had to agree that there was no difference, except maybe for the romantic relationship that he and Dan shared.

"You want to go into that business too?" he asked Dan. He was somewhat surprised at Dan's apparent interest, but all these beautiful things around them did have a certain attraction.

"I'd like to know more about it. Maybe try it a few times and see how I make out. Wouldn't you?"

"You want to make it with Jerry, don't you?"

"Yeah, I think so. He had his hand on my leg most of the afternoon, and it almost drove me nuts! What about you?"

Charlie was really taken aback by Dan's answer. "Well," he stammered, "I guess I'm curious all right, but what about us?"

"What about us? Charlie, I hope you know I love you, a lot. But this is all so new to me, and we do have to live. And if we decide to go into the business, I think Jerry could teach us a lot. He has certainly done all right."

Charlie was amazed at how logically and simply Dan had figured things all out. All of a sudden he wasn't the little boy puppy any more, but the leader; capable, confident, and determined. "I'll do whatever you say," Dan stated flatly, "But I think we should check it out."

"Hey, you guys making love or something?" The voice came from downstairs.

"Coming," Charlie shouted. They had put on their last almost-clean pair of jeans and the best dirty T-shirt they had. Dan's shirt had written on it "JUST DO IT" across the front.

"You mean it?" Jerry said jokingly, pointing at the T-shirt.

"As a matter of fact, he does," Charlie blurted out. He had decided they might not get another opening, and he just might not have the courage to bring up the subject again. "In fact, we both do." Charlie had a large lump in his throat and his voice was cracking from nervousness, but he forged ahead. "You were right, Jerry, we are gay, but we're pretty inexperienced." He had almost choked on the word 'gay', but now it was out, and it felt strangely good to have faced it.

"Well, I guess that answers my next question about what you want to do tonight. How about a beer?" They both accepted a Coors and sipped tenderly on them. They'd had beer before, but not in any quantity. As the two newcomers settled into the plush sofa with Jerry opposite them, he asked, "Now just what did you mean by that comment?" Dan had that wounded calf to the slaughter look again.

"Dan and I talked it over," Charlie said, "and we'd like to try your suggestion."

"Which one? I made a bunch of them."

"All of them. We'd like to try hustling. And," he choked as he lost his voice, and took a swig of beer. "we'd like to start with you," Dan interjected.

"You mean, you want to - " Jerry's hand was making rude gestures.

"Jerry," Charlie said, "you're the first person we've trusted since we left home." He was fighting hard to keep his voice even and strong now. It was trying to break from emotion, from tension, from nerves. "You've been awful good to us," he continued. "Please don't make this hard for us. We just don't know if we could do those things with strangers or not, so we figured if you want to, you could help us find out."

"If I want to!" Jerry said, his eyes shining. "Does a fish want to swim? Does Bonnie want Clyde? Does Batman want Robin?" His attempt at humor had obviously completely escaped his new friends as they sat on the couch looking scared to death. "Sorry," he went on. He was serious now. "But I can't be too careful. I know you're both minors and I know you've been lying to me. So I guess the first step is for you to tell me everything. I promise I won't turn you in or kick you out, but I have to know what I'm dealing with."

So they told him the whole story. They told him about the hunting trip; about the other boys and being caught in a very embarrassing situation; about how the whole thing had been building for years, yet still came as much of a surprise to them as anyone. They told him their true ages, and that neither of them had so much as masturbated before that night when everything changed. Dan told about his affair with Kirk, adding that for him it had only served to confuse him more and drive him back to Charlie. "Shit," he said as his face turned red, "I never even had an orgasm with Kirk!" They talked about their total devotion to each other; about their trip, about the horrors in Boston and the other cities they'd been in; they related stories of huddling together on the road in the rain and snow, wondering if they'd ever get out of the cold; and most important right now, about the fact that they were almost broke and had no idea what they were going to do next.

They told him things that they had never even admitted to themselves before; about how they had never had much experience with girls, and none at all with guys except each other; about how they had never been really a part of the 'in' group, but just sorta stuck together. They related how they had played hockey and basketball together, spent most of their summers together; they even told Jerry of how they fantasized being brothers much of the time, the first time either had uttered these things aloud.

Charlie told him of Lisa, the one serious girl friend he'd had, and how they just seemed to drift apart, Charlie gravitating back to his best friend and Lisa becoming more involved with her many admirers. Charlie said that he liked Lisa, a lot, but he felt that she was in a class several levels above him. She was popular, she was pretty, and he just couldn't compete. But he and Dan, he said, understood each other, had always enjoyed each other's company, and now that they had become lovers they felt totally comfortable with each other, sharing every aspect of their young lives.

Jerry sat quietly through their story, and for a long time after. Now it was painfully obvious what was missing in his life. Oh, yes, he found the two travelers physically attractive; but more than that, he longed for the devotion, the commitment they felt for each other. Now he knew for the first time what the term "in love" meant. These two young strangers had shown Jerry, who thought he knew it all, that love meant much more than committed sex; that love meant to be completely vulnerable, totally dependent on another, and to be comfortable with that condition. Now Jerry knew because he'd seen it firsthand. To love meant to sacrifice everything: Home, family, security, whatever it takes, whatever is required to be with the other, to serve and protect the other. There was no thought of consequences, no hesitation because of lost futures, abdicated comforts; there was only love and devotion, commitment and dedication.

"Wow!" he said finally. "That's the most incredible story I've ever heard! You've managed to give me a hard on and shivers at the same time! You guys really love each other that much! And now you both want to be my lover. Sorry, boys, but this is just too good to be true. You're going to have to give me some proof." They looked at him quizzically. "Proof?" they chorused.

"Charlie, give Danny a kiss."

"What!" Charlie was startled. He had never kissed anyone, especially another boy, in front of witnesses.

"You heard me. If you love him, it shouldn't be too difficult to kiss him! And I've already told you I'm gay too, so what's there to be ashamed of?"

Oh, well, Charlie thought, If this will prove our story, what harm can it do? He reached over to give Dan a kiss.

Dan looked like the puppy dog that was about to get another beating. They could feel Jerry's eyes on them, but then their lips met. The sweet boyish trusting feel of their lips together was too much. All of a sudden they weren't in a living room in Daytona, they weren't even in Florida, or on earth. They were drifting somewhere out in space. For the first time in weeks they didn't have to be on the lookout for the police. The horrors of sleeping in the streets, of fighting off anxious queers and solicitous bums; the hours of waiting for rides, the rain and snow, fears of starving and freezing, of being robbed or murdered, were behind them. They were safe; and all their love, their emotion, came bubbling to the top like a pot of soup boiling over. Their arms were around each other in a tight embrace. Tears were streaming down both their cheeks with the relief of pent-up emotion. They squirmed and wriggled. Their tongues danced around each other. They were in love, and for the first time, they were expressing it openly!

"Okay, okay, I'm convinced!" Jerry said as he pulled the two apart. "That's one skill you don't seem to need any tutoring in."

"Sorry, Jerry, but we wanted to tell somebody so bad, and there was no one to tell. And I think we've finally realized that we're really in love. Until now, I don't think we knew what we were feeling, just that it was good." Charlie was babbling like a magpie, both of them with tears still flowing freely. Jerry was between them now, holding them both like a mother comforts her two children.

"Pull yourselves together," he cooed, "We have a lot of talking to do."

After they had all calmed down, Jerry suggested the two borrow some of his clothes, "to get more comfortable." In not much time Dan and Charlie had both had a shower and got into complete new outfits. Jerry had given Charlie a pair of loose fitting shorts and a loud broadcloth shirt. Dan had a pair of pure white sweat pants and a matching sweatshirt with a large eagle on the back. They could tell by the feel of their fresh clothes that they were not your average K-mart ten dollar outfits. Oh, and to top off the outfits, red satin bikini undershorts that had a luxurious feel you would not believe! Charlie had trouble believing underwear could feel so good, or make such a difference, but then they'd been wearing less than clean underwear for well over a week.

The two newcomers had never thought about clothes before in an erotic way; they were just something to cover yourself and keep you warm. For the first time, they were actually enjoying the look and feel of their new outfits. Soon they were once again seated in the living room, where Jerry had opened another beer for each of them. For a few moments their new friend sat stunned, regarding the two youths before him. The shower had transformed them, he thought, into creatures as beautiful and delicate as fine china. I still can't believe it, he repeated to himself as he admired the newcomers.

Jerryexplained that he thought there was a basic difference in them, in that he had decided, or perhaps discovered, that he just plain liked boys and the physical things he did with them, but he thought there was a good chance the other two had just had the luck of the draw and fallen for someone of the same sex.

That confused Charlie. "So what's the difference?" he asked, looking at Dan who only shrugged.

"I guess the net result is the same," Jerry said, "Except that you guys fell in love first, and the mechanics of sex just followed along. With me, I've never loved anyone, at least not like y'all do. I just started doing this because I needed the money, and decided I liked it. With me it's purely physical. You'll probably understand better once you've been with a few more partners.

"You sure you want to go through with this?" he inquired with what was genuine concern. "Most guys as much in love as you are don't want anyone but each other, and I don't want to cause any trouble with you two." In spite of his desire for these young creatures, Jerry knew somehow just how rare a love like theirs was, and he knew he could never knowingly do anything to jeopardize it.

"You're right," Dan answered, with more confidence than Charlie felt. "But the way we figured it, we'd rather try it with someone we know and trust for the first time, then we'd have a better idea how we'd make out with a total stranger. And I guess you already know, you're not bad looking at all. We've only known you for a few hours, but already we feel safe with you and we want to make your trouble worth while."

"Trust?" Jerry echoed. Now it was his turn to get misty-eyed. "Why would you trust me, a perfect stranger?"

"I dunno," Dan shrugged, "We just do. Maybe it's because you sorta trusted us, even when you knew we were lying. Maybe we just have some kinda instinct or something that says we can trust you. Besides, we all gotta trust somebody!"

"And besides," Charlie added, "There's that specialty of yours."

"Specialty? Oh, you mean the massage thing?" Charlie didn't answer, at least vocally. But the look in his eyes, Jerry thought, was almost a challenge. "OK," he shrugged. "But first we have a lot to talk about." And he proceeded to tell his new partners more details of his business.

He told them about safe sex; about how disease is spread among gays, and ways to avoid it. "The only way to be absolutely sure is not to have sex at all," he explained, "but proper use of condoms, keeping clean, and avoiding other practices I'll tell you about gives you a good edge." He told them about some of the kinky things he got asked to do, and which ones were dangerous and should be avoided. "You won't enjoy some of the things you're asked to do, but remember, it's a job and it pays well. Sometimes you'll find yourself with some ugly slobbering guy that almost makes you sick, but if he's got the money and he's clean, you've got what he wants." He told them, above all, they should never, never bring any of their tricks home or tell them where they live. He told them emphatically that they should always maintain control, and that meant no drinking save a few sips of beer, absolutely no drugs any time! Dan and Charlie both assured him that would not be a problem, they had never tried drugs and had no intention of ever doing so.

They talked until midnight, Jerry the teacher and Dan and Charlie the willing students. They were astonished at the different ways people found to take pleasure from their bodies. Sometimes they were turned on by them, sometimes they found them repulsive; but Jerry kept repeating, "Remember, it's a job. You're not supposed to enjoy it, just do your best and take care of yourselves. You get your enjoyment out of seeing the pleasure you're giving to others.

"One of the biggest dangers in this business," he went on, "Is losing your self respect. When that happens you get so you just don't care, probably get into drugs or booze or both, and then you get careless. You go with partners you should avoid, and you allow them to do things you shouldn't, don't take the basic precautions. Then it's only a matter of time till you're hooked on drugs, or you get into a situation you can't get out of."

When at last it was time to go to bed, Jerry looked at his two prizes appreciatively. "You guys look so great I can't believe you both want me," he said, obviously drinking in the beauty of the two frightened boys seated on the sofa opposite him. "Tell you what," he said at last, "I don't know how to set this up, so let's just all go to bed. You two decide between you which one comes to my room first. I'll be waiting, and if neither of you shows up, I'll understand. But I sure won't turn you away either." And with that they turned out the lights, Jerry gave his two guests both a hug and a pat on the bottom, and they all went to bed.

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