The author's copyright, dated 2/13/2002, and all provisions of the original disclaimer remain in force. All rights are reserved.
This story depicts homosexual acts and it is intended for ADULT READERS ONLY. If you are not of legal age in your locality, please leave.
My friend Dean has edited this work, and his assistance is greatly appreciated.
All of my stories can be found in the Nifty Archives listing of Prolific Authors under the pen name of Lee Mariner
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>From where I was standing in the darkness and watching the tail lights of Larry's truck fade as he drove away, it felt like my heart would explode from wanting to be with him. I could hear the muted tones of conversation coming from within the house, but the last thing I wanted to do was go inside. I wanted to be with the one person who loved me for myself. Inside with my parents and their friends, I would be a phony show piece, another commodity for the furtherance of their social status; but not who or what I really was.
"God," I cried to myself, alone in the shadows of the bushes, "why does being gay have to be so hard? Why can't I be myself, be what I am and not what my parents and other people think I should be?"
"Someday soon," I thought to myself as I wiped the tears from my eyes and turned to the rear of the house.
The kitchen was ablaze with light; and Rebecca, our cook, was busily fussing over trays of after dinner hors d'oeuvers while Henry, Dad's valet/butler, arranged champaign glasses on a silver tray before filling them. They both looked up as I walked in, their eyes widening in surprise.
"Mr. Derek, where you been?" Rebecca asked, as I closed the door behind me, a sudden look of worry and concern on her face, "your Momma and Daddy done been asking and asking if we knew where you was and if you told us when you was gonna be home."
Henry and Rebecca were married, and they had been with my parents since before I was born. As far back as I could remember, Rebecca had always cared for me, doing all the things Mother should have done. I can remember Mother scolding her for spoiling me; but Rebecca listened stoically; and, after it was over, she did what she was going to do anyway: slip me another cookie or a little bigger piece of pie or cake. Henry, was quiet and seldom offered any advice or criticisms. He had told me once, after Rebecca had given him a good natured tongue lashing that, where women were concerned, it was best to keep your mouth shut and listen because you would never win an argument with a woman. "They's always right, Mr. Derek," he had told me, with a twinkle in his eyes, "so's you might as well stay shut and go on about your business when they's finished." That was the way Henry was, but he was always around whenever I needed help. I guess, since they didn't have children, they had taken me as their own; and I knew the concerned look on Rebecca's face was genuine.
"I guess I'm in for it again, Beca," I said, using the nickname I had given her before I could pronounce her name.
"I reckon you knows that without me saying it," she said, offering me the caviar canapé she was fixing.
"Your daddy's been looking out the front windows ever since before supper," Henry said. "I'm right surprised he didn't see you coming in."
"I did see him, Henry." My father said, sharply, as he walked though the swinging doors that concealed the kitchen from the dining room. "You should be circulating among my guests, Henry, and not lingering here in the kitchen. Rebecca, we need that tray in the dining room this evening. As for you, young man, take yourself up to your room and stay there; I'll deal with you later. I won't have you coming in this late and embarrassing your Mother and me after we have made excuses for your absence."
I could feel the anger boiling inside of me and taking a deep breath; I was on the verge of defying him when Rebecca shot me a warning glance, saying, "Mr. Morrison, don't you think he might need some supper first."
"Supper!" he said almost vehemently, "he should have been here when we sat down to eat, not out running around who knows where."
"I reckon so, but a little something won't hurt none. He can eat it here in the kitchen, or I can take a tray up to his room soon's I finish this," Rebecca persisted.
"If you insist, Rebecca, but I don't want my guests seeing him dressed as if he's been on a mountain camping trip or God only knows where," he said, spinning around on his heels and leaving the kitchen.
"I don't reckon it would make much difference where you was, Mr. Derek," Henry said softly as he positioned his glasses-filled tray on his hand. "Lord knows, your daddy ain't home that much to know what goes on."
"You better hush, mister, before you gets yourself in trouble talking like that," Rebecca said quietly as Henry left.
"Beca, you don't need to fix me anything. I'm really not very hungry, and besides you have enough to do."
"Not so much that I can't fix you a plate and don't you be telling me you ain't hungry, I been feeding you too long not to know better. Get yourself some milk while I put this in the dining room, and then I'll fix you a plate from the left overs from supper," she said, looking at me with her soft brown eyes.
"Yes, ma'am," I answered, knowing better than argue with her once her mind was set. Rebecca was not about to let me go to my room without something to eat. She had snuck too many sandwiches and glasses of milk to me when I was younger and had been confined in my room without supper for some infraction.
The milk was cold, and I was on my second glass when Rebecca swept back into the kitchen, carrying an empty tray and fussing.
"They won't eat what's out there, much less another tray," she said, setting the empty tray on the center island, her eyes flashing, "I'll just be throwing most of it out after they's all gone."
"You don't throw it away, Beca," I said, sitting on a counter stool and teasing her, "you take what's left to some of your people."
"I throw out what ordinary folks don't eat, but what your momma don't know ain't gonna hurt her none," she said, grinning. "There's beef, chicken or ham from supper, which do you want?"
"Ham is fine, Beca."
Rebecca fixed me a huge plate of lean Smithfield ham, potato salad and her famous green-bean casserole. I didn't think I was very hungry; until she set the plate on the counter and I felt my stomach grumble. Henry returned with an empty tray of glasses while I was eating; and setting it on the island, he looked at me and Rebecca saying, "Some of those folks has left already."
"If'n some have left, I reckon it won't be long before your momma will be telling us to clean up, Mr. Derek, so you best be finishing your supper or you'll have her to listen to," Rebecca said.
She was right, no sooner than I was on the back stairs up to my bedroom, I heard her, " Rebecca, Henry, our guests are starting to leave. You might as well start clearing the dining room. Mr. Kingsley told me Derek was here, has he gone to his room?"
"That's what he was told, Miz Helen," Rebecca answered.
"I don't know why I ask, Rebecca, but did he have something to eat?"
"You know I fixed him a plate, Miz Helen. Ain't no way I'm gonna let him go hungry," she answered, matter of factly.
I didn't like eavesdropping but when mother asked if I had said anything about where I had been, I stood stock still, listening.
"No ma'am, he didn't say nothin, and I didn't pry," Rebecca answered, acidly. "I reckon his daddy will tell you when he gets done with him."
"Rebecca! There is no need to be insolent; I was only inquiring. He should have been home hours ago. There was a young lady I wanted him to meet."
"Maybe that's some of you and his daddy's problems, Miz Helen, yo'all needing him when you want something, when he might need you once in awhile. I ain't got no call to be putting my nose in yo'alls business, but I been taking care of that boy since he was a baby, changing his diapers and all and I know him most better than you do, Miz Helen. Maybe I shouldn't be saying it, but it needs saying since he won't say it himself," Rebecca said, hesitating and taking in a deep breath. "The boy is almost grown and needs to be doing what he wants to do, not what you and his daddy want him to do. He ain't no child anymore, and he'll find whoever he wants without being showed off to all the young ladies you keep traipsing in front of him or going to all them fancy dinners and stuff you and his daddy carries him off to when he'd rather be with young'ns his own age."
I heard Henry say, "Rebecca......," and I started to go back into the kitchen when I heard mother, "I'll talk with you later, Rebecca. In the meantime you and Henry better start cleaning up."
"Now look what you done went and did, woman," Henry said, a worried tone in his voice, looking up at me standing in the doorway, "Weren't no call for you to go saying all them things."
"You really shouldn't have, Beca. You know how vindictive Mother can be." I said, from the doorway, a feeling of warmth towards both of them flowing over me.
"You should be in your room and not listening to what goes on between your mother and me," she replied, turning to look at me. "I been handling her since she was a girl and me and Henry been knowing the both of them too long to be worried about what they might do."
"You still shouldn't have talked back to her that way, Beca, but I love you for doing it," I said, putting my arms around her, hugging her to me and kissing her cheek.
"Oh, shush, yourself," she said pushing me away, her smooth chocolate cheeks turning darker. "You best be getting on up to your room before your daddy gets there before you."
"He won't be any angrier than he already is," I said over my shoulder as I left them.
* * * * * * * * * *
I should have felt more concern for myself than for Rebecca and Henry; but, since I knew Mother would tell Dad everything that had been said, I couldn't help but worry a little. As much as I loved her and regardless of her bluster, Mother never did anything without telling him and leaving the solution up to him. I knew, even after she gave him an exaggerated version of what Rebecca had said, he wouldn't do anything either. He might rant and rave a little, but Rebecca and Henry would listen and go on about their business as usual. He had threatened to discharge them in the past, but that would not happen since very probably no one else would put up with Mother and Dad. Also he knew that my grandmother Worthington had seen to Rebecca's and Henry's needs when she passed away, leaving them a comfortable endowment. If it had not been for my mother's pestering my grandmother about her needing them, Rebecca and Henry would have stayed with Grandmother until she passed away; even though, out of loyalty, they went with my parents after they married.
Throwing my knapsack on the floor when I entered my bedroom, I went into the bathroom, stripping my clothes off for a shower. Larry and I had taken a shower before we left the motel, but I needed to stand under the hot water and let it relax me before my Dad barged into my room and started his indignant speech, accusing me of being inconsiderate of them when I knew everything they did was for my good, my future.
"Just once," I said, to myself as I stepped under the water, "I'd like to tell him who was inconsiderate."
The water was hot and the fine spray felt like needles penetrating my tight muscles. Thoughts of my Dad left my mind; and I started thinking about Larry, wishing he were in the shower with me as I soaped myself. The suds flowed down over my chest and stomach into my pubic bush, and I slowly washed my hardening cock and balls fantasizing that it was Larry washing me. Clouds of steam from the hot water enveloped me as I brought myself to a body-shaking climax; and I leaned my head against the shower wall, groaning, "Larry, Larry, Larry. I love you so much."
I didn't hear Dad come into the bathroom; but, when he rapped on the glass, it startled me; and I almost slipped on the slick tiled floor when I jerked around.
"Get yourself out of there young man; you knew I would be coming up to talk with you; and I don't have time for you to be taking a shower," he hollered.
Taking a deep breath, I replied, "yes sir, I'll be right out. I didn't think you would be up until your guests had left."
"When did you start concerning yourself with the guests? Christ, it's like a damn sauna in here," he complained. "Get out of there, and put you robe on, and be quick about it. I'll be in the bedroom."
I waited for a few seconds after hearing the door close before I turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, toweling off quickly. My cock was still almost half hard from jerking off, but the folds of my terry cloth robe covered it. Taking a deep breath, I pulled the robe's belt tight and opened the door.
My Dad was sitting at my desk, glaring at me as I walked into the room. When I started to speak, he held his hand up, saying, "do you deliberately do things that will embarrass your mother and me?"
"Dad, I didn't know you were having a party tonight; you didn't tell me," I said, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
"Tell you," he said, jumping up, his voice rising and his face becoming more flushed. "When has it become necessary that I tell you my plans? Do we need to furnish you with a schedule of our activities, so they won't interfere with your coming and going? You are supposed to ask us, not the other way around. Your mother and I have busy schedules, and we have worked hard to provide you with everything you need. You could at least show some respect for us and be here when we have guests over; or, at least, let us know where you are going to be. Is that asking to much?" he said breathing heavily and standing over me.
"I've always shown you and Mother respect, Dad, and I have been here when you have told me to be home." I answered without looking up at him.
"Do you call going off without telling us where you are going, respect? Is sneaking though the bushes and coming in the house from the back, respect?" he asked, at the top of his lungs.
Gritting my teeth, I stood up and faced him. "Neither you nor Mother were home when I left Friday; but that is not unusual; you seldom are if it interfers with your having cocktails with a client or with one of mother's club meetings. I could have told Rebecca or Henry, but they were out shopping, probably for your dinner party. I saw you were having a party when I got home, and I went around to the back rather than coming through the front door looking like I had just returned from a mountain camping trip. I don't think you or mother would have appreciated that," I said, defiantly, still controlling the anger building inside of me.
"Whose truck did I see you getting out of?" he asked as I moved away, looking out the window.
"No one you would know, just a friend," I answered, trying to be calm but wanting to blurt out Larry's name.
"Does your friend have a name?"
"He does, but I doubt you know him or his family; they aren't in your social circle," I said before breathing in deeply, twisting the robe's belt in my fingers. "His name is Larry Marks."
"He's Jewish; this friend of yours is a Jew?" Dad exclaimed loudly.
"Oh for Christ's sake, Dad!!" I said loudly, spinning around, "what damn difference would it make if he was Jewish, which he is not? You have friends and associates that are Jewish, don't you? Larry is a friend, and, we drove over to the eastern shore and visited a camp ground. If we had had camping equipment, we would have camped out. It was late; and, instead driving back, we stayed in a motel for the night after having dinner with the owner."
"You spent the weekend with a man we know nothing about," he said, clenching his jaw and advancing towards me menacingly. You stayed in a motel, with this person and you didn't have the courtesy to call and let us know where you were," he said, glaring at me and forcing me back against the window sill. "Christ, the next thing you will be telling me is that you slept with him."
Sucking air deep into my lungs, I held it before slowly exhaling. "You said it, Dad, would it be so bad if we did sleep together?"
A sudden wave of relief swept over me as the words left my mouth in a rush, but my father had a stunned look in his eyes. We stood just inches apart, close enough that I could see his heart beat from the way his throat was pulsing. His eyes were cold and empty; and, when he spoke, the words cut like a knife, "No Kingsley is a filthy ass faggot," he growled, lifting his hand swiftly before I could move. I heard my mother scream, "Morrison........," before stars filled my brain and I blacked out.
I don't know how long I was out but, when I woke, Mother was sitting on the floor with my head in her lap. Rebecca was looking down at me, wide eyed, and my mother was crying and screaming at my father, "Morrison Kingsley, have you lost your senses, hitting your son?"
"If you're calling that piece of trash you are coddling my son, I don't have a son. No son of mine would ever choose to be a cock sucking, ass licking faggot, not a Kingsley."
"Whatever he is, he is your son; and you won't change that by hitting him," mother said, tears streaming down her cheeks as she smoothed my hair, holding my head close to her.
"I don't care how you try to sugar-coat it, Helen; that piece of garbage is no longer my son; and I want him out of this house. Do you know what will happen when our friends hear about him, we will be the laughing stock at the club; and God only knows how many clients my business will lose," he growled vehemently, clinching his fists.
Mother started to reply but Rebecca cut her off, standing between the two of us on the floor and my father.
"Mr. Morrison, I been knowing you since you were a boy; and you've done a lot of mean things in your time; but doing this is bad, real bad. If you throw my baby out, it will come back to haunt you; and how some ever you try and change it, the boy can't help what he is, none of us can. God makes us what we are, and we can only live out the life he give us," she said defiantly.
"Rebecca........," Henry called softly from where he was standing in the doorway, "we got no business interfering."
"You hush, old man and get me a cold washcloth from the bathroom. My baby needs tending to or he's gonna have a lump the size of a watermelon from where he been hit. Git and do what I say," Rebecca said, sternly.
"You better listen to Henry, Rebecca, if you want to stay in this household," my father said, fuming angrily.
"You do what you have to do, Mr. Morrision, but if'n you throw my boy out, I reckon we'll be going with him. We been listening to you treat him like he was nothing, excep'in when you needed him for something you wanted. That ain't no way to raise a child," Rebecca said, taking the cold cloth that Henry had brought and kneeling beside me, gently applied it to my aching jaw.
"Rebecca," Mother said, "you wouldn't leave me would you? How will I ever manage without you and Henry?"
"I'm sorry, Miz Helen, it ain't our problem no more. We been taking care of yo'all for a long time, but we are getting on in years, and I reckon it's time yo'all started taking care of yourselves. Your boy is laying with his head in your lap, half kilt and you don't seem to be worried about him none, just how you gonna get along. No........., I reckon when Mr. Derek leaves we'll go right with him."
"Rebecca, please, you can't leave me, you just can't. Morrison, don't do this.........; we can talk about it," mother said, sobbing.
"There is nothing to be talked about. No faggot is living under my roof; I want him out of here tonight, not tomorrow or next week, but tonight. If Rebecca and Henry want to leave just because of that piece of trash, let them," he answered, storming out of the room.
"Morrison, please.................," mother wailed, lifting my head from her lap so she could get up and follow after him.
"I swear, Miz Helen," Rebecca said, quickly taking my aching head from my mother, "you gonna let the boy get another lump on his head."
"That's okay, Beca," I said, trying to sit up, "I"ll be all right in a few minutes after my head stops spinning."
"You best be sitting still for a few minutes. Your daddy give you a pretty hard lick," she said seriously, reaching over and closing my robe.
"You done growed a mite since I saw you last, boy," Henry chuckled as he helped me sit up.
Even as bad as my head ached, I glanced at him, trying not to grin as I answered, "I reckon, some."
"Oh hush, the both of you," Rebecca said, indignantly, "get another cold cloth old man and stop talk'en trash or I'll be putting a lump on your head."
"Yes'm," he answered, taking the cloth from her, still grinning at me.
When I tried getting up, she put her hand on my chest, "you just sit there like I said and get your wits about you. There ain't no rush to be getting up and fallen back down again."
She was right;, when I tried to move, my head started spinning and my jaw felt like it was broken. I gingerly moved it from side to side, not feeling any more pain. Rebecca was still sitting beside me, watching anxiously.
"It don't feel like it's broke, Beca. Would you ask Henry to bring me a glass of water, please? My mouth feels as dry as cotton."
"Don't surprise me none," she said calling out to Henry. "As hard as he hit you, it probably knocked the spit right out of you. It's a small wonder nothing is broke."
"You saw it, Beca?" I asked, taking the glass from Henry.
"Near about most of it. We heard your daddy hollering all the way down in the kitchen. Henry didn't want us interfering, but I know your daddy. He can get powerful mad if'n he thinks he's been wronged. We was right behind your momma when she screamed and we saw you drop like a stone. I ain't never seen your daddy so mad, his face was 'bout purple. He was standing over you and if'n your momma hadn't pushed him aside, I ain't sure what he might have done. Some people loose their senses when they get that mad."
"I've gotten myself in a real mess this time, haven't I, Beca?" I said softly, "I heard most of what was said while mom was holding my head, Beca. I don't want you and Henry leaving because of me. I'd never forgive myself if you leave Mom and Dad."
"No need for you to be frettin 'bout that, boy," Henry said from where he was kneeling beside us, "my old woman done said her piece; and she don't back down none, if'n she's made up her mind. I reckon as how you should know that, as many times as she set you down when you got to feeling you was growed up enough to be doing what you wanted. Your granny, Miz Elizabeth, done took care of our needs so it ain't like we gonna starve."
"I know that Henry," I said, feeling a little better, "but where will you go if you leave? You've lived with us for years."
"That's not for you to be worrying yourself about, son," Rebecca said, stroking my hand, "you best be thinking about where you will be going if'n your daddy don't change his mind."
"He won't, Rebecca," mother said, coming back into my room, "he is beside himself with anger. Why, oh why, Derek, couldn't you have waited until you were in college or on your own before telling him you are a homosexual? Rebecca and Henry are leaving me and your father is.........well, I've never seen him this way. I just don't know what I am going to do."
"What you have always done, Mother," I said pushing myself up and sitting on the side of the bed, "you will let Dad keep on running things like he always has; and my leaving won't change anything. If Beca and Henry leave, you will find someone else and everything will be back to normal for the both of you. I'm tired of that, Mother. I'm tired of listening to him telling me what I am going to do, I'm tired of the way he treats you and them, I'm tired of being a phony when you bring another girl around for me to meet, I'm tired of it all, Mother. I just want to be who and what I am, and do the things I want to do, not what he and you want of me. I can't change the way I feel, Mother."
"Derek, please, don't talk like that," she replied, "everything we have ever done was for you and your future. You know we both love you."
"Are you sure about that, Mother? Where were you when I was growing up?" I said, feeling the anger building inside of me again. "I'll tell you where you were: trips to the Bahamas or Europe, business conferences all over the country, some party or the other almost every night. God only knows how many times Beca put me to bed while I yearned for you or Dad to come in my room and hug me. I didn't have any parents except for Beca and Henry. They washed my dirty diapers, Beca or Henry one would wash my dirty ass and be there when I scrapped an elbow or knee. Beca cared for me when I was sick; but where were you Mother, off to some social function that would help Dad in his business or get another invitation to a cruise or another trip? I'd been better off, if I hadn't been born," I said, hanging my head and fighting back the tears.
"Derek Kingsley, you have never spoke to me like that, wait until I tell your father," she said, more indignant than angry.
"There you go Mother, right back to him. What's he going to do, kick me out again?" I said, lifting my head, "why don't you both leave me alone, and let me live my life?"
"Well for heavens sake. I've never heard such ingratitude. Live your life in some hole with your faggot friends, but don't come running to us when you find your father and I are not available when you need someone to get you out of a mess." She said, angrily as she swept out of the room.
"I guess that just about does it, Beca. I might as well have them both mad at me," I said weeping softly as mother left.
"You sure enough said what was on your mind." She answered, as she rubbed my back. "What'cha gonna do now?"
"I really don't know Beca," I said straightening up and arching my back trying to relieve the tension that had built up inside of me, "I'll pack a few things and call this friend of mine and see if I can stay with him for a few days until I can get the rest of my stuff and find a place to live until I graduate. I'm already registered at Eaton so I'll be going there in the fall. What are you and Henry going to do?"
"No need to worry bout us, we got kin folk around Charleston we ain't seen for a spell. It'll take us a day or two to pack your things up and get our little bit together. I don't reckon your daddy will throw us out until we gets ready to leave," she answered, looking at Henry, "you gonna be all right? Henry can stay and help you if you want him to."
"I'd appreciate it if he would, Beca. I hate asking, but I'm still feeling a little woozy."
"Don't surprise me none," she said getting up, "I best be getting back to the kitchen and finish the cleaning before we catch the what for again."
Henry pulled two suitcases from my closet after Rebecca left and started packing the things he knew I would be needing: briefs, t-shirts, pullovers, jeans, toilet articles, etc.
While he was doing that, I dialed Larry's cell phone number and breathed a silent prayer, "answer the phone Larry, I need you now more than ever."
* * * * * * * * * *