By Lee Mariner


The author's copyright, dated 2/13/2002, and all provisions of the original disclaimer remain in force. All rights are reserved.

This, and other stories I have written, can be found in the Nifty Archives listing of Prolific Author's under my pen name of Lee Mariner.

My friend Dean has edited this work and his assistance is greatly appreciated.

This story depicts homosexual acts and is intended for ADULT readers only. If you are not of legal age, in your locality, please leave. 

Any reader wishing to be notified of future episodes to this or any other story I have written, can contact me at:

Chapter #9

We had dozed off in each other's arms when a loud knock at the door woke us. 

"Christ," I said, rolling over on my back and sitting up in the bed. "That can only be Eddie Carper, he's the only one that knows we are here."

"What do you think he wants?" Derek asked.

"One or both of us, if I know him," I answered over another loud knock on the door. "I better see what he wants, before he knocks the damn door down," I sighed, swinging my legs out of the bed.

Grabbing the towel I had used to clean us up, from the floor, I wrapped it around my waist and went to the door.  Looking through the door peep-hole, I saw the top of someone's head; and I knew it wasn't Eddie's as he was much taller.  Leaving the safety chain in place, I cracked the door, asking, "who is it?"

"The maid, sir," a young lady said, turning to look at me. "I'm sorry if I disturbed you, but Mr. Carper said this room needed to be made up."

"Damn, Carper," I thought to myself before answering. "It will be in about thirty minutes if you can come back. We were just getting ready to leave."

"I'm sorry sir, I don't mean to rush you. I have two other rooms that I can clean," she answered, politely.

"We'll be out by the time you get back."

"Thank you, sir," she said, moving back to her cleaning cart.

"It looks like we better get a move on, Derek, Carper sent the maid to clean the room up.  If I know him, he did it on purpose."

"Maybe he did, Larry, but it is getting late and I've got school tomorrow," he said throwing the covers back and jumping out of bed. "I'll race you to the shower."

"Oh, no!  You don't." I said, laughing as I ripped the towel from around my waist.

The race was an impasse and we met at the bathroom doorway laughing and wrapping our arms around each other.  His body molded to mine and I felt his heart beating with excitement as he held me tight.  His thick hair smelled clean; and, when I kissed it, he pulled his head back, looking at me through soft beautiful blue eyes that reflected the love I felt deep inside.

"I never thought I would love anyone as much as I do you, Derek," I whispered, kissing his forehead.

"It kind of snuck up on us, but I feel the same way," he answered. "It's probably a worn out cliché, but I could hold you like this forever."

"And we would never get showered," I said, lifting his face to mine and kissing him gently.

"Oh fudge, you have to be the serious one, don't you?" he giggled, as I loosened my arms.

"One of us has to be if we are going to live together," I said, taking on a soft note of seriousness.

"Live together," he answered, twisting around to look at me as he turned on the shower.

"Of course, you don't think we can keep on meeting in motels and making love in the front seat of the truck, do you?"

"I.....I really haven't thought about it that way, Larry," he said as he stepped under the shower spray.

"What have you been thinking?" I said as I joined him.

"Only how much I love you," he said quietly, starting to soap my chest.

"Do you want to keep on dating and maybe seeing each other once or twice a week for quick sex?  That's not what I want, Derek, and I didn't think you did either."

"I don't, but.....but," he spluttered as he rinsed off.  "There is so much we haven't thought about, Larry, finishing college, my parents and your parents.  What are we going to tell them?"

"Very simple, honey," I said, as I turned off the water and took the towel he held out for me.

"Mom and Dad already know about you.  They know I am gay, and they will have a pretty good idea you are when we meet them together," I said, as we toweled off briskly. 

"Your parents might be all right with it, but I'm not so sure of mine," he said, following me into the bedroom.

"Derek," I said, tossing him his shorts. "We will cross that bridge together.  What do you think they will do, throw you out or something?  From what you have said about them, it sounds like they wouldn't care if you told them you were going to move to some far off island and go native."

"That might be better than telling them I'm gay.  I don't know about Mom, but I'll bet my Dad will go ape shit," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed with one shoe in his hand.

"And do what, beat you up?" I said, sitting beside him. "That won't happen if I'm with you."

"Don't you think it would be better if I told them without your being there, Larry?"

"If that's what you want, hon," I said as I tied my sneakers. "One more thing though, your Dad had better not lay a hand on you; you're eighteen years old; and even if he is your Dad, there are laws about assault and abuse."

"Larry," he said softly as we stood up. "I'm scared."

"Me too, a little bit," I said, pulling him to me. "I've never done anything like this either, but, I know one thing.  We can't do anything about the future, if we don't face the present together.  It  won't be easy at first, but I have faith that God meant for us to be together." 

We stood holding each other for several seconds until he laid his head on my shoulder and whispered softly, "That's one of the reasons I love you so much; you're stronger than me, and you know so much more than I do."

I didn't answer; I couldn't because the lump in my throat was almost choking me; but I held him tight until we heard a light knock at the door.

"That's the maid again, I guess we better get out of here," I said softly as I dropped my arms from around him.

"I guess," he said, a forlorn note in his voice as we picked up our bags.

                                                                          * * * * * * * * * *

"I'm sorry if we held you up, miss; it's all yours now," I said, nonchalantly as we went past her.

"It was no trouble, sir. I can turn your key in if you wish."

"No thanks, I think there might be an addition on the bill."

"Didn't Eddie tell you everything was taken care of when he called?"  Derek asked as I got in the truck.

"He said that, but I don't want him calling me at home or at work telling me we skipped out without paying for today. His dick might be long, but his memory can be short when it comes to money," I answered, chuckling under my breath.

Derek was right, Eddie took the key and winked, commenting about how cute Derek was and hoping we had a good weekend together.  I didn't give him any details, even though I could see he was almost salivating.  A quick thank you, and we left the El Camino. Hopefully for the last time.

Derek sat quietly in the corner of the truck, looking out of the window. He didn't say anything until we were almost at the spot where we first saw each other.  I could tell he was thinking, and I was too. I had made up my mind that if falling in love was going to mean something more than sex, we were not going to be sneaking around in bushes anymore.  When he said I could drop him off behind the church, he looked at me with a surprised look when I said, "I'll drop you off at your front door, Derek."

"But.........." he started to say and I cut him off.

"There is no time like right now to begin, Derek.  If your Mom or Dad see you getting out of the truck, you can tell them whatever you want, but I'm not going to be meeting you, anymore, in dark places behind churches or any other building."

He didn't answer, but I could see his mind working and his eyes slowly light up.  "Turn left on Garfield and then right on Wedgefield, third house on the left," he said, his lips quivering slightly but not out of fear.  He had made a decision, and I could only hope it was the right one.

Following his directions, I pulled up in front of a house that was not unlike a small mansion.  The windows were ablaze with light, and there were several cars parked in the circular drive.  I knew the area, in general, had better than moderate income homes, but Derek's caught me a little off guard.

"It looks like someone is having a party, Derek," I said, lightly.

Yeah, that goes on all of the time. Dad's either entertaining some clients, or Mom is having, what she calls a little get together with her friends. I'll see if I can sneak in through the door from the pool," he answered.

"Whoa, you have to sneak in your own house?"

"You don't know what it's like, Larry.  If I go in the front door looking like this, Mom will look at me like I'm an intruder; and Dad will tell me to go to my room and get cleaned up before someone sees me. The people have already seen me, but they act like they hadn't.  It's all a bunch of phony bullshit.   Mom won't say anything about it; but, after everyone is gone, Dad gives me hell for embarrassing him.  It goes on like that all of the time; day in and day out. I'm sick of it."

"Well, don't come to my house all dressed up; Mom and Dad won't  know how to act. The only time they dress up, is when they go to church," I said, laughing.

"When will I see you again, Larry?" he said, sliding across the seat, closer to me.

"I'll call you tomorrow after I see what Mom and Dad are doing, okay?" 

The glow of the dashboard lights showed the sadness in his eyes, and I could feel the emotions building between us.  When I reached out for him, he threw himself in my arms, and I fell back against the door. Crushing his lips to mine, his tongue demanded entry and we kissed passionately, totally oblivious to where we were.

"Jesus, Derek, don't get me started or I'm going to forget where we are," I said, breathing heavily.

"Drive over behind the church, Larry, please," he said softly.

"Nope," I said, restraining the urge to do as he asked. "Doing that only puts it off, Derek, even as much as I want you.  I'll call you tomorrow, I promise."

"Why do you always have to be so damned logical?" he said as he sat up, his eyes brimming with tears.

"Hey, come on now," I said, brushing the tears from his cheeks. "I don't have any tissues, we used them up."

"I've got my handkerchief," he said as he dug it out of his pocket,  grinning at my feeble effort to lighten the situation.

Drying his eyes, he put the handkerchief back in his pocket and leaning over, kissed me lightly. "I love you," he said softly.

Opening the door, he closed it quietly and, taking his bag from the back of the truck, went up the walkway and disappeared in some bushes.  The forlorn droop of his shoulders, told me he was feeling the same way I was feeling. 

The seat was empty, but Derek's scent lingered, and I blinked my eyes furiously trying to fight back the tears as I pulled away from the curb. 

                                                                         * * * * * * * * * *

Mom and Dad were sitting at the kitchen table, and they looked up when I walked through the door.  Mom was doing embroidery while Dad, with a cup of coffee at his elbow,  was reading his newspaper.  That usually meant they had already eaten supper; but, when she saw me, she dropped what she was doing.

"Lawrence," she said. "We didn't know what time you would be home, so your Father and I have already had supper.  I can fix you a plate, if you're hungry."

"Better eat, son," Dad said, folding his newspaper. "Pot roast, your favorite."

"I can't pass that up, can I, Dad?" I said trying to be cheerful even though I didn't feel like it. "Give me a second to put my stuff in my bedroom, and I'll be right back."

Mom and Dad glanced at each other with concerned looks, as I passed the table and went upstairs to my room.  The truck had felt empty after I dropped Derek off, but the room Paul and I had shared was even emptier.  I couldn't stop the tears from flowing, and I gripped the edges of the bureau staring at Paul's picture with blurry eyes, wishing he were there to talk too.

"Paulie, Paulie, why does loving someone hurt so much?" I whispered, laying my head on my arms and breathing in deeply, trying to get my emotions under control.  "Jesus, I wish you were here with me now so we could talk."

"Will I do?" a voice said from behind me.

"Dad!!" I exclaimed, jerking my head up and turning around.

"I'm sorry, Larry, I don't  mean to intrude, but you know how your Mother worries about you. She thought maybe I should see whether something was bothering you. She said, it's not like you to pass up her pot roast."

"She would think that, wouldn't she?" I said, sitting on the bed. "You and Mom know me too well."

"We should, son, you are a part of both of us," he said, sitting beside me. "Both of us are here for you anytime you need us."

"I know, Dad," I said, leaning forward and resting my elbows on my thighs. "I've got a lot on my mind right now, but I'd rather wait for us to talk about it until after you have met Derek. "

"Derek, he's the friend you were talking with on the phone the other evening?"

"Yes sir, we met a couple of weeks ago, and we spent this weekend together.  You probably won't understand it, but I've fallen in love with him."

"You are not entirely right, Larry," He said as he put his arm around my shoulders. "I won't pretend that I understand the relationship between gay people, but, I do know a little bit about loving someone. I've loved your Mother for almost thirty-years and we both love you and your brother.   If you love this young man, and he loves you; you both will have to work out any problems between you, just as your Mother and I have done over the years. Just remember; we are here to help both you and Derek in any way we can."

"I've always known that, Dad; and I think you will like Derek when you meet him," I said, straightening up and breathing in deeply.

"Of that, I have no doubt, son.  Right now your Mother is probably on pins and needles with your supper in the oven," he said hugging me tight.

"Do you think she will understand what we've been talking about?" I asked, with my head buried in his shoulder.

"Why don't you explain it to her?" he said as we stood up.

                                                                    * * * * * * * * * *

Dad was right. Mom was sitting at the table pretending to be embroidering even though she probably heard us coming down the stairs.  There was a place setting where I usually sat at the table; and, when she heard us walk into the room behind her, she got up and opened the oven.  The plate she sat on the table would have fed three men; and, when I looked at Dad, he just grinned.

"Would you like milk or coffee, Lawrence?" she asked.

"Milk, please, Mom," I answered, as I pulled my chair closer to the table.

Dad poured himself another cup of coffee before he sat down and picked up his newspaper.  Mom filled my glass, and we sat quietly for a few minutes while I was eating.   I wasn't exactly sure what I wanted to say; and, instead of telling her what Dad and I had talked about, I almost choked blurting out, "this is good, Mom."

"Lawrence Marks, is that all you have to say to me? You walk into this house with a hangdog expression on your face and go up to your room, leaving your Father and me wondering what is wrong.  You both are upstairs for at least half an hour; and, when you come down, all you have to say is, "this is good, Mom."  I know my pot roast is good young man, but that does not tell me what is wrong."

"Nothing is wrong, Mom," I said feebly, trying to look at my Dad who was hiding behind his newspaper. "Your pot roast is always good, but I wish we could have had it tomorrow night, that's all."

"Christopher. . .  . . "

"Yes, dear," he answered, lowering his newspaper, a grin on his face.

"Wipe the grin off of your face, and tell me what you two have been cooking up."

"Cooking up, we aren't cooking anything up, Mother.  I think Larry means he wants Derek to know how good a cook you are; that's why he was wishing for your pot roast tomorrow night."

"Daaaaaaaaad," I exclaimed, looking between him and my Mother, feeling the blood rushing into my face.

"You were beating around the bush, Larry, instead of getting to the point," he said, grinning again.

I felt like I wanted to crawl under the table at that moment and stay there forever, but Mom was not to be put off.

"Derek, beating around the bush," just what are you talking about?" she said, her face flushed.

"Derek is a friend of mine, Mom, and I wanted to ask him over for supper tomorrow night so that you and Dad could meet him." I said quietly, looking at him for support.

"My heavens, is that what this is all about?  You didn't have to go through all of this to ask someone for supper. You had me worrying myself silly," she said, leaning back in her chair.

I really think my Dad was enjoying himself, watching and listening to the conversation between Mother and me; and I felt like telling him that he was just like Paul, starting something and then watching to see what was going to happen.  He started it, and  I couldn't back out.

"It's more than just Derek coming here to meet you, Mom. I want to spend the rest of my life with him," I said, watching for her reaction. She didn't flinch except to smooth her apron across her lap.

Dad and I both sat stone still, hardly breathing until she started folding her embroidery.

"Well then, if that is the case, I hope he likes corn beef and cabbage; for that is what tomorrow's supper will be."

"I hope you don't forget the potatoes and cornbread," Dad said just a little timidly.

"And when, Christopher Marks, did you start telling me how I should cook?" she replied quickly as she stood.

"I never would, Mother, I never would," he answered with a conciliatory note in his voice.

"Then let your son finish his supper, I'm going to bed."

We watched silently as she left the room, walking erectly, her slippers slapping her heels.

"Whew," I said, breathing in deeply. "She took it better than I thought she might."

"Oh, don't worry, she will have plenty of questions when I get upstairs."

"You won't fight about it will you, Dad? I don't want that to happen."

"No, son, we have had our differences but never about you and Paul. Her biggest concern will be with your happiness. Your  Mother won't rake Derek over the coals, you should know that, but, she will probably have a few things to say after she meets him.  Don't worry about it, Larry, she will respect your decision.  You can't blame mothers for worrying about their children; it's their lot in life. Fathers worry as well but not like mothers."

"You won't have to worry about Derek, Dad,"

"I'm not, I know you," he said as he stood, carrying his cup and saucer to the sink. "Finish your supper, I'll see you at breakfast."

"I won't be able to eat breakfast if I eat all of this," I said.

"If you wrap it up in the newspaper and put it in the garbage, I won't tell your Mother," he said smiling at me.

"Good night, Dad."

"Good night, son."

I waited until Dad disappeared up the stairs before spreading out several sheets of the newspaper he had left on the table.  "It's a shame to waste it," I said to myself, but there was no way I could eat all Mom had put on the plate.  I would be working out every night for a week even if I did try to eat it. 

After rinsing the plate off, I left it in the sink. When I started to open Mom's kitchen trash can to dispose of the wrapped up food, I remembered Dad has said to put it in the garbage, and I detoured to the back door. 

The night sky was a soft satiny black with zillons of stars winking and sparkling like diamonds.  The moon was rising in the west, reflecting on the few fluffy clouds that moved lazily across the sky, disappearing behind tall trees.  It was a beautiful warm night, and I hugged myself, wishing Derek was with me so we could enjoy it together. 

"Good night, Derek, someday we will enjoy every night together," I whispered to the winds, "Sleep well."