This
story concerns teenage gay males who are involved in sexual situations.
If it is illegal for you to read such stories, or if you do not like to
read such stories, please leave now.
This
story is
copyright 2006 by the author who retains all rights.
This
is a work
of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents
either are the product of the author's imagination or are used
fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is
entirely coincidental.
This
is my second submission to Nifty. This is a
continuation of “Kiel’s Story”
which was last posted on 7/24/06. It is not
necessary to read “Kiel’s Story”
to enjoy this, but it may help you
understand where the character relationships started. Any comments or
questions
are welcome at: carl_holiday@att.net
A
warm thank
you goes out to all who’ve written. I appreciate knowing
someone is actually reading this stuff. I try to respond to all,
including flames, but time is precious and if I haven't answered your
email, I apologize.
Tim and the Corsair
by Carl Holiday
Chapter 1 – The Big Red “I”
I
have to go to
school
tomorrow after being away for nearly a month, but first Tim is taking
me to
meet his Uncle Jerry. We’re taking him to lunch down on the waterfront.
Uncle
Jerry was a Corsair pilot in WWII and was shot down after getting a
bunch of
medals “simply for being a damned good pilot.” He lost his right foot,
left
hand, and dick and balls. According to Tim he’s lucky to be alive. I’m
a little
nervous about meeting him.
We’re in Tim’s car.
It’s a
’53 Ford Coupe. It has a bad case of skin cancer, but runs good. His
dad had it
overhauled, so Tim would have reliable wheels. Tim is four months older
than me
and got his license last summer; and, his parents gave him the car when
he came
home. They’re rich, but you’d never know it from the way Tim acts.
The first thing
most people
notice about Tim is that he looks like he’s maybe twelve or thirteen,
not
sixteen. He’s got a hormone problem and puberty is taking its time.
We’ve known
each other for only a few months, but we’re a lot closer because we
both had
the same best friend since attending Licton Springs Elementary, only we
didn’t
know about it until the very end. Stevie died in a horrible accident. I
tried
to kill myself because of it. Tim almost had a party because Stevie was
forcing
Tim to have sex with him. Like they say, there are always two sides to
every
story. Tim had a bad experience and I had a good one. Now, knowing what
was
happening to Tim has kind of forced me to reevaluate my friendship with
Stevie.
“You’re awfully
quiet today,”
Tim said as the car did a little wiggle in its lane. Tim can’t talk and
drive.
He’s a killer on the tennis court, can swim like a fish, and sucks dick
like a
pro, but if you get him behind the wheel of a car don’t you dare say a
word or
you’re going to hear cars honking all over the place.
“Watch where you’re
driving,”
I said. “Listen to the radio. It’s a lot more interesting than my
problems.”
“Are you going to
be able to
go tomorrow?”
“Yeah, just a
little nervous.
Not everyone gets to spend time in a shrink shop and come out without a
big red
“I” stapled to their forehead.”
“What red “I”?”
“Like the Scarlet
Letter only
this one stands for insane. Kids are going to find out.”
“You’re being
paranoid. No
one knows shit.”
“Someone knows and
they’ll
tell everyone. People are going to avoid me like the plague.”
“So, what? How many
friends
do you have at school?”
“Well, you, Monica,
and maybe
Mark, but you know I don’t want to be his friend. There was that other
guy, but
we won’t mention his name, okay?”
“No, we don’t say
his name.”
His name was Kiel. He murdered his parents and older sister,
nearly
killed me, and brutally assaulted my five year old sister. I wanted
Kiel to be my friend, but he was crazier than me,
only no
one knew until it was too late. I tried really hard being his friend,
but now I
kind of wish I’d left him alone. You just never know about some people.
I like Tim because
he’s
trying real hard to be my friend. He knows I have mental problems, but
it
doesn’t matter. He likes me no matter what’s wrong with me.
“There’s Uncle
Jerry over
there in front of his apartment building,” Tim said suddenly doing a
U-turn in
the middle of Columbia Way causing four
lanes of cars to honk their horns.
“Nice trick. Did
you father
teach you?”
“Yeah, but don’t
tell him. I
don’t think I was supposed to learn that maneuver. You’re going to have
to sit
in the backseat. Uncle Jerry has to sit up front.”
When Tim stopped at
the curb,
I jumped out. Uncle Jerry was standing a few feet from me. He had to be
in his
early forties, but he looked a lot younger. His black hair was neatly
trimmed
short. His closely shaved face was more round than long, had a small
nose, and his
ears weren’t the same size. It sort of gave him a lopsided appearance.
There
was a hook where his left hand used to be. The right hand was missing
the
little finger. I was staring.
“It’s all right,
son,” Uncle
Jerry said. “If you think I look bad now, you should see me naked. Hi,
my name
is Jerry Chambers. You must be Geoff Johnson.”
I mumbled something
incoherent and shook his hand. His grip was strong, firm. I hoped mine
was
acceptable.
“You’ve got a good
looking
boyfriend, Tim,” Uncle Jerry said after he closed the door. “Is he a
good fuck
or are you still bottoming?”
I stopped breathing
and died.
I wanted out of the car. Then Tim opened his mouth.
“I did it once, but
I still
have a short fuse,” Tim said, overadjusting the wiggle causing the car
to
nearly swerve out of its lane. More cars announced their disapproval of
Tim’s
poor driving skills. “I mostly suck him. All Geoff has to do is kiss me
and I
come. Sometimes I come when I’m sucking him. It’s pretty pathetic.”
“He likes being
fucked then.”
“Oh, yeah, well you
know what
happened to him with Kiel.”
“That kid deserves
to burn in
Hell for twenty eternities. So, Geoff, you like a big dick up your ass?”
“Uh, yeah,” I
mumbled, too
shocked to say anything out loud. Who was this man? Tim’s uncle, his
sex ed
teacher, or some pervert?
“Well, I guess
you’re kind ’a
out of luck with the two of us. Right, Tim?”
“Boy, ain’t that
the truth.”
Thank god nothing
more was
said until we were down on the waterfront looking for a place to park.
I have
three uncles and none of them are anything like Uncle Jerry. I was
beginning to
wonder what exactly was his relationship with Tim. Then I got out of
the car
and felt a hand on my ass.
“Nice ass, Geoff,”
Uncle
Jerry whispered in my ear. “I bet you’re a good fuck, too. You like it
long and
slow, or quick like Tim?”
“I don’t know,” I
whispered.
I wanted out of this. I wanted to walk uptown and catch a bus home, but
Uncle
Jerry had his arm around my waist.
“Come on, Uncle
Jerry, quit
trying to make out with my friend,” Tim said. “You’re going to scare
him.”
“Oh, I’ve already
scared him.
I’m surprised he hasn’t pissed his pants.”
“Come on, Geoff,
we’ll go get
a table,” Tim said, pulling my arm. Uncle Jerry got in another quick
feel on my
ass before Tim pulled me away.
“He likes you,” Tim
said.
“Sounds like he
wants
something,” I said, looking back at Uncle Jerry. He smiled and gave a
little
wave.
“Well, he can’t do
anything.
Just humor him, okay? Try to laugh it off, it’ll go a lot easier.”
“Are you mad at me?”
“God, Geoff, quit
being so
submissive. Slap his hand away from your ass if you don’t want him
touching
you. If you don’t stop him now, he’ll have your dick out of your pants
quicker
than you can say Christopher Columbus sailed the ocean blue.”
“And, what will he
do with
it?”
“Put it in his
mouth and give
you the best blow job you’ve ever had.”
“You’re kidding.
Tell me
you’re kidding.”
“Uncle Jerry
doesn’t have a
dick, okay? I told you that. When they stitched him together they made
him look
kind of like a woman, only he hates that. He’s kind of okay with not
having a
dick, but that slit between his legs embarrasses the hell out of him.
He
overcompensates by getting very sexual with my friends. He sucked
Stevie. I was
there when he did it, too. Stevie wouldn’t let me take him back.”
“What about Kiel?”
“Never had a chance
to take Kiel to see Uncle Jerry.”
“What about you?”
“God, Geoff, what
are you
sick our something? No, wait, I’m sorry. That wasn’t being nice. No,
Uncle
Jerry hasn’t tried to do anything to me.”
“Family, huh?”
“Yeah, family, but
he’ll do
you if you’re not careful. Just tell him to stop and he’ll leave you
alone.”
I do not like
seafood. Fish
is okay, sometimes, but clams, oysters, shrimp, and crabs are
arthropods like
insects and spiders. Insects of the sea. Imagine a big, juicy ant and
you’ll
know why I do not eat bugs of the sea. I ordered a hamburger. Tim had
the
Captain’s Plate, lots of different bugs. Uncle Jerry had sautéed
prawns, big
bugs in butter and garlic.
I did not like
being in that
restaurant with a sex fiend like Uncle Jerry. I couldn’t help imagining
him
with my dick in his mouth. I tried looking out the window at the
waterfront,
but it was November, raining, and cold. The seagulls were huddling
together
along the piers. What boats that were out were working boats, tugs,
ferries,
and a couple small freighters. No pleasure boats. It was the beginning
of the
gray drearies.
“Hey, Geoff, come
to Earth
and join the party,” Uncle Jerry said bumping my foot with his.
“Huh, oh, sorry,” I
mumbled,
not looking at him. I wanted to go home. There wasn’t anything there
for me,
but at least I wouldn’t have to be with this man.
“You ever go to the
john
here?” Uncle Jerry asked.
“Uh, no,” I said,
not liking
this line of conversation, either.
“Come on, I need to
pee.
They’ve got a guy in a tux in there who’ll wipe your ass for a buck.
Come on,
get your ass out of the booth. I’ll give him a twenty and he’ll lick
yours with
his big soggy tongue.”
I looked at Tim,
but he only
shrugged. Now was the time to put my foot down. I needed to do
something about
this man. So, I slid out and followed Uncle Jerry to the men’s room. I
looked
back at Tim. He shook his head and turned away.
“Hurry up, Geoff, I
don’t
want you peeing your pants, again,” Uncle Jerry said loud enough for a
couple
booths of people to hear. “God, kids these days.”
I think he thought
he was
being funny. I was very close to hating him, only I can’t hate someone,
it’s
not in me.
The restroom was
huge, but
there wasn’t a man in a tuxedo. There was a little kid standing in one
of the
stalls with his pants pulled down. The door was open showing his little
bare
ass. He was peeing.
“Come on, Geoff,
back here,”
Uncle Jerry said beckoning from the last stall.
All I had to do was
turn and
go back out the door. I didn’t have to follow Uncle Jerry. I didn’t
have to do
this. I locked the stall’s door and turned to see Uncle Jerry sitting
on the
toilet. There was quite a lot of room in there. He took hold of my hand
and
pulled me towards him. I shut my eyes, not wanting to watch.
The toilet flushed.
“Come on, let’s
go,” Uncle Jerry
said. “You thought I was going to suck your dick, didn’t you?”
“Uh, yeah,” I
mumbled. He was
standing close to me, close enough to kiss me.
“You’re a good kid
and Tim’s
been feeding you a line of bull, but here’s my phone number. Go on,
take it. If
you ever need to talk about shit, anything, give me a call. I’m not a
bad guy.
I’m not family. Okay?”
“Yeah, sure,” I
said, taking
the slip of paper and putting it in my wallet.
“I do know one
thing, Geoff.
You need to laugh more. Who’s your favorite comedian on television?”
“I don’t watch TV.”
“You don’t watch
TV? What do
you do? Jerk off all the time?”
“I read a lot.”
“Smart, huh?”
“I had to take the
IQ test
four times because I kept getting too high of a score and every time I
took it
the score kept getting higher. They finally figured out I was just
getting good
at taking the test.”
“Off the scale?”
“Almost.”
“Where are you
going to
college?”
“Harvard, maybe
MIT, I
guess.”
“Go to Columbia. It’s in New York.”
“I know where it
is. I’ve
been there.”
“I went there.”
We were back at the
table.
Tim was finishing his meal. He eats slowly, too slow.
“Are you good with
math?”
“Sort of, I’m
better at
languages, and logic. My Uncle Walter wants me to go to USC, his alma
mater. My
mother wants me to go to Cornell, her father, my grandfather went
there. I’ve
got a few years to decide.”
“You could probably
go now.”
“Yeah, but I
couldn’t take
Tim.”
“Take me where?”
Tim asked.
He looked like he hadn’t been listening, startled out of some teenage
reverie.
I hoped it was me he was thinking of, I don’t know what I’d do if he
was
thinking of someone else.
---------------------
It was raining.
Drizzling,
actually. Thick, drizzly fog. You can’t use an umbrella because it’s
raining
just as much horizontally as vertically. Pleasant shit. Mother and I
were in Principal Jennings office, he was reading the letter from
Doctor Randall.
He was
slowly shaking his head, not smiling, this wasn’t going well.
“I assume Geoff is
on
medication?” He asked.
“Yes, he takes a
pill at
breakfast and another at dinner,” Mother said. She was using her
official
voice, the one she uses with lawyers and salesmen.
“I’m not certain we
can
facilitate Geoff’s readmission,” Principal Jennings said. He wasn’t
looking at
either of us. “We have liability issues. With Geoff’s, uh, illness we
would be
concerned about the safety of the other students.”
“He’s not a danger
to himself
or others,” Mother said. She was still holding her ace. “That can be
validated
in court if you desire.”
“You see, I don’t
know if I
have the authority to allow Geoff back into our school,” he said. He
was
looking nervous, sweat was beading on his forehead.
“Call your lawyer,”
Mother
said.
“Why would I want
to do
that?”
“Because I’m
serving you this
court order,” Mother said, handing the principal a little document
Doctor
Randall gave her when I checked out of the psycho hospital. “We,
Geoff’s
psychiatrist, my lawyers, and I anticipated this. Call your lawyer
Principal
Jennings.”
“Uh, well, yes, I
guess I’d
better,” he said as he rose from his desk. “Geoff, I think it’s best if
you go
on to class. This is going to take some time and will probably end up
in your
favor, anyway. Mrs. Johnson, I’ll advise the school district.”
“Thank you, Mr.
Jennings,”
Mother said rising from her chair. “Geoff, now you call if you need
anything.
Okay?”
“Yes, Mother.”
Monica and Tim were
waiting
for me outside the principal’s office. I shrugged a greeting and walked
out
into the hall. I had the red “I” stapled to my forehead good and
proper. It was
only a matter of time before some student made something of my absence.
“Hey, Geoff, sorry
about Kiel,” Stewy Martin said, walking past us toward
the first
floor boy’s restroom.
“Uh, thanks, I
guess,” I
said, wondering why, of all people, Stewy hadn’t made a big deal about
my
obvious absence.
“You missed the
sophomore
volleyball tournament,” Stewy said before at the corner. “You missed a
good
opportunity to demonstrate your athletic skills, again.”
“Oh, shut up,
Stewy!”
“See, no one
knows,” Tim
said. “Now, go to your honors whatever class and get your missed
assignments.”
“Okay.”
“Geoff? See you at
the Fairy
Table,” Monica said.
“Yeah, I’ll be
there.”
They walked
together toward
the stairs. They’d be up on the third floor for the rest of the
morning. I
never ventured to such lofty heights. All my classes were a lot closer
to the
ground, smart kids didn’t have to climb stairs. Heck, most of us were
too
uncoordinated to carry books, walk up stairs, talk to whoever, and
watch out
for some muscle for brains bent on destruction of another honors
student.
I turned and headed
in
Stewy’s direction. Pre-calc was the order of business for second
period. Only I
was too tired. I wanted sleep, lots of sleep. I damned near forgot to
turn the
corner and when I did, I saw him.
It was Sam from
psycholand,
my friend. The boy who liked me. The boy who seemed worse off than me.
He was
staring at me. He must have been waiting, but he didn’t go to North
Park High.
He didn’t belong here. He was supposed to be at the psycho hospital, I
thought.
He smiled.
“What are you doing
here?” I
asked. I walked over to him and his eyes went to the floor. “Why aren’t
you at
the hospital? What’s going on?”
“I ran away,” he
whispered.
He put his hands into his pockets. He was wearing khaki slacks, a
bright red,
orange, and yellow madras shirt, and penny loafers. He needed a shave,
but
smelled like he’d recently taken a bath. His blue eyes were bright,
lively,
which was so unlike him.
“Where are you
staying?
What’s going on?”
“I had to see you,”
he said.
“You left without saying goodbye. I miss you.”
I thought of Tim
and what
he’d say, but Sam intrigued me. He was so outside my normal, crazy
life, I
wanted to be with him.
“Can I see you
tonight? I
know where you live.”
“What?”
“I want to see you.”
“Why?”
“I like you.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, we’ll talk
to night.
Okay?”
“Yeah, you can come
over, I
guess.”
Then he walked out
the door.
He was skinny, but had a cute ass, what I could see of it through his
loose
slacks. But, what was he doing out of the hospital? I wondered if I
should call
Doctor Randall. If I was a good little boy, a tattletale, I’d do that.
I
decided to wait.
Kiel’s spot at the Fairy Table, our lunch table
in the
cafeteria, was occupied by a familiar looking boy who I wasn’t certain
I knew.
It was a face I’d seen before, maybe back in third or fourth grade, but
I
wasn’t sure. I sat down across from him. He smiled at me then turned to
continue his conversation with Mark, Monica’s boyfriend.
“Hi, Geoff,” Mark
said,
looking up from a peanut butter and strawberry rhubarb jam sandwich.
For as
long as I’d known him that’s what he had for lunch. Mark was a tight
end on the
North Park football team.
“Hi,” I said,
trying to
remember who the other kid was. He was obviously older than the kid I
might
have known, but there were some points of recognition that were causing
my mind
to run through pictures of classmates at Licton Springs Elementary and
Bruce Bigedic Middle School. His
light blond hair was shorter, football short. He had more muscles, a
thicker
neck. He’d been working out. A splash of acne across his nose and
cheeks was
unnerving, but there was still something about him that made keep
staring.
“I’m Dick Connor,”
he said.
There was something about his dull brown eyes that suddenly made me
fear him.
“I beat the shit out of you in fourth grade because you were such a
smart ass
about everything. That got me expelled from Licton Springs. I ended up
at
Thornton Meadows, then Samuel Gompers. I just transferred in from
Crestline
because of something someone said I’d done. I didn’t do it, but my
parents
thought it best I come here since it’s supposed to be my high school
anyway.
What the hell you sitting here for?”
“I always sit
here,” I said,
looking at Mark for some degree of help. He looked out the window at
the bronze
fairy in the atrium. That’s why the table is known as the Fairy Table.
It takes
a lot of guts to sit there. Who wants to be known as a fairy, unless
you
already are.
“Yeah, well, maybe
you need
to find a new table,” Dick said. “Did you hear me?”
“Yeah, sure,” I
said. I stood
up and picked up my tray. I didn’t know where to go. Tim was still in
line.
Monica hadn’t come in, yet. I didn’t know what to do.
“Are you still
here?” Dick
asked. He was flexing his hand into a fist. I remember the bloody nose,
the
black eye caused by that fist. I remember my aching gut when that fist
slammed
into my stomach.
“I’m going.”
“Then go!”
“I’m going.”
“Well, I think you
need a
little encouragement.”
He was up on his
feet before
I knew what was happening. A fist slammed into my face. I was on the
floor, the
tray of food on top of me.
“Richard Connor, I
saw that,”
Vice Principal Washington said. “Come with me.”
“He hit me first,”
Dick said.
“Like hell he did.
Are you
coming nice or do I have to subdue you.” Vice Principal Washington had
been in
the Marines. He’d been trained to subdue. He was always pleasant.
Asking if you
wanted to be nice, then giving the subtle threat of being subdued. He
was over
six feet tall and built like the proverbial brick shithouse.
“Do you think you
scare me,
ni …?” Dick started to say before a black hand had him by the neck and
was
raising him off the floor. Vice Principal Washington was walking toward
the office
with a completely subdued Dick Connor before anyone else knew what was
happening.
“Geoff Johnson, get
yourself
cleaned up and come to the office,” Vice Principal Washington said from
the
hall. The cafeteria was quiet enough for me to hear him. Then
pandemonium broke
out.
“Are you all
right?” Mark
asked, looking down at me from his seat at the table. He hadn’t lifted
a finger
to help. He wanted to be my friend. He was losing points.
“A lot you care,” I
said,
picking food off my shirt and slacks. My face hurt. I wanted to cry. I
wanted
to go find Sam. I wanted to be anywhere except in the same school as
Dick
Connor.
“Hey, he beat me
up, too.
And, didn’t Tim tell you about sitting at this table during lunch?”
“No.”
“Well, you brought
it on
yourself, that’s all I can say.”
I sat outside Vice
Principal
Washington’s office. A police car had arrived when I was in the
restroom trying
to clean chocolate pudding from my shirt. I needed to soak it in cold
water,
but all I could do was daub it with paper towels. Dick was brought out
in
handcuffs. One of the policemen looked at me and shook his head.
“You could’ve hit
something
better than a psycho,” he said. He seemed familiar, but I couldn’t be
sure. I’d
never had any run-ins with North Park police, but maybe
they’d received something from Seattle to be on their guard against
psycho Geoff
Johnson.
“In here, Geoff,”
Vice
Principal Washington said. He closed the door behind me. “Have seat.”
The paddle was in
the corner.
It looked like an oar for a rowboat, with holes drilled in the face to
reduce
wind resistance. Maybe I was going to get a good talking to before
getting a
couple swats. Swats from Vice Principal Washington were famous at North
Park. My older brother, Karl, received a total of
six, but he’s always been
a hard headed, stubborn bastard.
“I’m worried about
you,
Geoff. You let people walk all over you. I realize Mr. Connor is
exceptional,
but you could have done something to prevent the attack. Have you ever
considered taking a self-defense class?”
“I’m not a fighter.”
“I’m not asking you
to fight.
I want you to learn how to defend yourself. I know you’re seeing Dr.
Timothy
Randall for your problems, so I’m going to talk to him about getting
you into
something like jujitsu, karate, or something like that. I think the
mental
aspects of the Eastern martial arts will help you, too. Geoff, you’re a
good
kid. I think we need to help you. Okay?”
“Sure, I guess.”
“Good, now I think
it’s best
you went home. Maybe we’ll have a better day tomorrow.”
He offered his hand
and I
shook it, trying to remember not to give him the dead fish my father
always
complained about.