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” before reading this, but it may help you understand where the character relationships started. Any comments or questions are welcome at:

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 in my life, so if I didn’t answer yours, please accept my apology.

Tim and the Corsair

by Carl Holiday

Chapter 17 – Happy Birthday Ricky!

“Do you know what this is?” Ricky asked as we stood beside the car that Uncle Walter said I was to drive. The garage was lit with fluorescent bulbs and the white floor and walls reflected that light into a uniform, unshadowed glow throughout the garage. There weren’t any tools to be seen, just four automobiles occupying garage’s four bays. At the far end, stairs led up to the former apartment of a chauffeur, I suspected. Who else would have lived above the garage?

“Yeah, Uncle Walter said it’s the Roadster,” I said. I’d spent a week in the custody of Reginald, the owner of a repair shop that specialized in odd luxury cars owned by odd, rich owners. I knew just about everything I could learn about a Mercedes-Benz, mostly so that when something went wrong I could tell the repairman where to start looking versus simply letting him charge me $100.00 for problem diagnosis because it was a Mercedes-Benz and foreign and expensive. I knew mechanics, not styling. I knew nuts and bolts, not what animal died so that I could sit in comfort waiting for the light to change at Santa Monica and Fairfax. “That big black thing over there is the Benz, the little red thing is the Ferrari, and this silver thing is the Roadster. This thing under the tarp is something old that only Bert gets to drive and then only down to the service station.”

“This is a 1958 Mercedes-Benz 300SL,” Ricky said. He walked around the front and bent down looking through the windshield. “Don’t you know anything about cars? You’re going to have every student in Auto Shop kissing your feet just for a ride in this.”

“Well, if that’s the case, maybe I’ll give them a ride if they kiss my dick.”

“You’re insatiable!”

“Ooh, such a big word for such a little boy.”

“I’m bigger than you,” Ricky said. He stood up and walked over to the hidden auto. “Say, what is this thing?”

“A duzen something.”

“A Dussenburg?”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“This a Dussenburg?”

“Yeah, is that something special?”

“Let me put it this way. If you showed up at school in a Dussenburg, half the students in Auto Shop would cream their pants and the other half would shit.”

“Well, you certainly know which half would get a ride.”

“Geoff, I know guys who’d suck you until next Christmas if you gave them a ride in a Dussenburg. And, those guys are all straight.”

“How about the Roadster?”

“Well, they’d be excited, but nothing like the Dussenburg. Say, when are you going to suck me?”

“I’m practicing Bert and Uncle Walter’s technique of loving you without sucking or fucking you.”

“Well, it’s not going to work,” he said walking up close to me, “because one of these days I’m going to sneak up behind you and give you all of mine right where it belongs.”

His hand went right in and cupped my right cheek with his fingers doing a very good job of searching for something they were always seeking on me.

“Stop that!” I exclaimed, turning away from him. He was as hard as I was.

“Make me.”

I stepped up to him and pressed my body into his as our lips locked together.

“Hey you two! You’re supposed to be washing that car, not making out in the garage.”

“Spoil sport!” I yelled back at Bert who was discussing something with Mr. San Diego, our Filipino gardener. Frankly, I liked Mr. San Diego. He was always pleasant and didn’t seem to care when I hung around him as he went about the garden. Of course, having a basic knowledge of Tagalog helped; or, more than likely, he was paid so well by Uncle Walter, that I was simply tolerated as he might tolerate the family dog, if we had one. I wasn’t use to being rich and having people treat me differently than just a regular nobody, like I used to be.

“Inside or outside?” I asked.

“You know where I want it,” Ricky said returning his hand to my ass.

“Not your dick,” I said turning away from him, again. “Do you want to clean the inside or the outside?”

“With my tongue?”

“No, you idiot! Come on, we have to get this done or we’ll never get to use the pool.”

“Bert said we had to clean that, too,” Ricky said coming in close, but not kissing or touching me.

“What about the pool guy?”

“Sick, I guess.”

“What are we, domestics?”

“You’re getting spoiled,” Ricky said, picking up the bucket and sponge. “You know what your uncle said. You aren’t getting a free ride out of this. You may be smart, but you ain’t rich, either. I’m doing the outside. Get in there and roll up the windows.”

Uncle Walter had laid down the law. He’d worked his way up the ladder and if I wanted to live like he did, I was going to have to work, too. No free ride, for Geoff. That was okay because I had Ricky with me almost everyday after my lesson down at the repair shop and my driving lesson. The instructor always arranged the route so that I could stop by the Ortega house to see if Ricky wanted to come up for the afternoon, which he always wanted and what he wanted Mama nearly always granted. Talk about being spoiled.

We were becoming very close, but I was holding back on turning our deepening friendship into something sexual. I wanted to love Ricky for who he was, not the length of his dick. I wanted to change. I didn’t want a roll in the hay just because the sun was shining. If I was going to lose him, as I fully expected to happen as soon as we consummated our relationship, I wanted to know I loved Ricky Ortega because he was the best friend a boy could have.

Ricky, though, kept bugging me to move the sex we were having to the insertion stage. We were having sex, there is no denying that. Beautiful orgasms were occurring, but the little baby makers were dying out in the air while Ricky was anxious to have his dying inside me. So far, I’d been able to breach his resistance to bring him to climax before an attempt was made upon my body, but his devious nature kept the end of his sensitive tool probing ever closer at my own points of resistance.

We were going to make love. That was inevitable. I just wanted to delay the day when I was going to grieve his passing. I hated losing boyfriends and I was certain I was going to lose Ricky.

“Well, is it clean?” Ricky asked. Bert squatted down and looked behind the left rear tire.

“Yeah, you did a great job on the outside,” he said. He opened the door and took a mirror out of his pocket. He ran it along the bottom of the door. “No, dirt, yet.”

“You won’t find any dirt on the outside,” Ricky said. He was smiling at me as his hand kept reaching for my ass. He’d started that only in the last couple days, feeling my ass that is. Even during those frequent times when our naked bodies came together in my suite, his hands, fingers, lips, and tongue were becoming enamored with my ass. He hadn’t taken that ultimate step, but his tongue was getting ever closer to rimming me; and, I knew, if he did it to me, he was going to expect me to do the same. Our friendship had not, yet, reached those places where one of us might not want to go.

“Yes, but what about the inside?” Bert looked at me and I smiled, but not too convincingly. I hadn’t expected this degree of inspection. “You know, Geoff, Walter wasn’t kidding when he said this was going to be your car, but you have to earn it and earning it means keeping it spotless. This is an investment to Walter and he’ll take it away from you quicker than you might expect. And, you know what happens then?”

“No,” I whispered, looking like a puppy who’d been caught peeing behind the sofa.

“You get a clunker and it won’t be parked inside the garage, but it, also, won’t be dripping oil all over the driveway, either. The things you’re learning from Reginald will be put to the test. Do you want to be an auto mechanic the rest of your life?”

“Well, since you asked, yeah, I do.”

“What are you saying?” Ricky gasped. Suddenly, he saw himself not riding down Sunset Boulevard in a 1958 300SL, but in a beat up 1949 Chevrolet Coupe.

“I’m not interested in driving something I can’t get dirty and have to wash every time I take it out of the garage. I’ll be nervous as hell driving this thing. Uncle Walter will ream me a new asshole if some old lady dents it in the parking lot at Ralphs.”

“I’ll rim your old asshole,” Ricky said, grabbing me.

“Will you stop it!” Oh, god, I’d yelled at Ricky and his face showed it. I’d never seen him look so hurt. Worse, I wasn’t certain this was real or put on. We hadn’t known each other long enough for me to know when he was kidding or really meant it. When he walked away from Bert and I knew it was real.

“Can you tell Uncle Walter I don’t want to drive the Roadster?” I asked.

“What do you want?”

I watched Ricky slowly disappear through the backyard gate and wanted to go to him, but I couldn’t leave Bert. That wasn’t done.

“Anything at least ten years old. Domestic would be nice. It can look nice and I’ll take care of it like you want, but I don’t want something that’s worth more than any house I’ll ever buy. I don’t want the kids at my new high school to think, what?”

“That you’re Walter Johnson’s spoiled nephew?”


“Well, okay, but you may not like his answer. Now, you’d better go to Ricky. Don’t look at me like that. I’m not blind, you know.”

“Thank you, and I’ll come back and clean the interior like you expect, okay?”

He took me into his strong arms and hugged me. I’d found out Bert liked to give hugs. He also liked to kiss. They were the chaste kisses of family, but they were kisses all the same. Bert and I were becoming close, too.

“Just to let you know, Walter doesn’t like being contradicted. He made a decision, but I’ll let him know how you feel. Maybe he’ll relent this once, but don’t push him. If he decides something about your life, you have to live with his decision or suffer the consequences, whatever they may be. And, trust me, you don’t want to suffer the consequences Walter comes up with. Now, go on, shower your boyfriend with kisses.”

He held me tight against him one more time then kissed my cheek. He patted my ass when he released me.

“You know, Geoff, you do have a nice ass.”

Ricky wasn’t in the back. He wasn’t down by the pool. He wasn’t in my bedroom. I found him curled up on one of the black leather sofas in the lounge. The TV was on, but the sound was turned down to where I could hardly hear anything except Ricky’s soft breathing. I sat down by his feet and watched a tear slowly dribble out of his left eye and trickle down his nose.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” I whispered. “I love you, you know. I guess it was bound to happen, eventually. I always fall in love with boys. It’s a failing I guess. For a long time I was a pushover for practically any boy who came walking down the street and had dick bigger than mine, which meant practically every boy in the world. I wanted to get to know you before we had real sex. I know you want to be doing more, but I want it to be special for you. I never got that chance. I’d been doing things long before I realized doing it the first time could be something special.”

I didn’t expect an answer to my ramblings. I didn’t expect Ricky to pay the least amount of attention to me. I didn’t expect anything, anymore. I didn’t expect him to like me, anymore.

“But, I want to let you now, right now. I do not like kissing or licking another guy’s ass.”

“Another guy’s? You mean you can lick your own ass?”

He was smiling when he sat up and wrapped his arms around me and held me tight against him. I shut my eyes and wrapped my own arms around him. I listened to his soft breathing and the occasional snort as he sucked snot back up into is nose. He was nibbling at my ear lobe. He knew that drove me wild.

“I like your ass,” he whispered. “I might never get to go inside you, but that doesn’t mean I have to stop showing you how much I love your body, every inch, every patch of skin, every crevice, your whole body, Geoff. I will lick and kiss you from the top of your head to the bottom of your feet because I’m falling in love with you, too.”

His mouth left my ear and his lips moved down my neck until his head was resting on my shoulder. “I don’t want you holding back, anymore. I want you, Geoff. I can’t help it.”

I pulled myself out of his embrace and ran to my room where I flopped down onto my bed. (Yeah, for a moment, I congratulated myself for not tripping over some loose thread on the carpet.) I didn’t want to start crying, too, but I couldn’t stop the tears from coming into my eyes.

I felt him get on the bed and lie down behind me. Ricky put an arm down across my chest and pulled us together. I didn’t know what was going to happen to him, but I knew he was going to go away from me. I’d lost too many boyfriends to some tragic end to believe Ricky Ortega was going to be any different.

“I love you,” he whispered just before I fell asleep.

We were in the library, another of those rooms the house seemed to offer only on closer examination. There were lots of books, of course, but also there were lots screenplays, stage plays, and manuscripts of one form or another. This was where Uncle Walter did his work when at home. You might say it was his office, except it was primarily a library and I was welcome to peruse its shelves at my leisure.

I was here because I had been summoned. It was Saturday morning and I should’ve been out on a driving lesson, but Uncle Walter summoned me to the library. He was sitting behind his desk going over some paperwork of some sort. I could see right off they weren’t scripts. Quite possibly they weren’t my concern, either, but I was still getting used to Uncle Walter and I just didn’t know. He was wearing his at-home attire, blue jeans, a t-shirt, and bedroom slippers. I was standing on the other side of the desk.

I fully expected to get chewed out for something. Being ignored after you came in was Uncle Walter’s way of telling you the shit was going to hit your fan and you’d damn well better have it pointed away from him.

“Do you know what trust is?” Uncle Walter asked. He wasn’t looking at me. If I hadn’t seen his lips move or recognized his voice, it could’ve been anyone in the world asking that question.

“Having confidence in someone,” I said. “I guess it’s like Doctor Randall trusting me not to do crazy shit anymore.”

“I trusted you to become a good, safe driver who would take an interest in the vehicle I was giving you,” Uncle Walter said, still not looking at me.

This was a good time to be insignificant, except I was standing directly in front of his desk. Worse yet, he wasn’t yelling. He was using a calm, quiet voice, but I knew he was pissed.

“I built my business based on trust. I trust certain people to do certain things and I trust other people not to do certain things. I trust you to be a good person, otherwise you wouldn’t be here. I trust you not to get involved with drugs or alcohol. You haven’t given me any reason, yet, to feel that trust isn’t warranted. What irks me right now is having Bertrand telling me you do not want to drive the Roadster because you’re afraid someone will accidentally dent it and I’ll blame you. That tells me you do not trust me.”

Aw, shit! That’s what I would’ve said if I could, but I couldn’t. I had to stand there and take it, like the man I wasn’t. Only, I didn’t trust him. I didn’t know him, so how could I place any trust in him.


Aw, shit! This was for real. I looked for a place to sit down, but there weren’t any other chairs in the room. There had been some earlier. I’d seen some in there, but they were all gone. He’d done that to make me feel uncomfortable. I wanted to tell him it was working just as he planned, but he probably knew how I felt. He’d probably done this very thing before.

“Uncle Walter, I, uh, don’t know you. You’re not the same person I remember meeting last year after Dad’s funeral. You seemed friendlier then. Now, down here, you’re all business.”

He didn’t look up, but kept reading the papers he was holding.

“But, I don’t think I deserve such a fine car. Who am I to drive such a fancy, expensive car? I’m a nobody.”

I’d never heard papers fall with a thud, but I’d swear the papers Uncle Walter had been holding were thrown down onto the desk and made a horrendous noise; or, maybe it was my defense systems kicking in when Uncle Walter suddenly got to his feet and came over the desk toward me. Or, maybe it was the sound of his fist grabbing the collar of my t-shirt; or, the sound of my back crashing into a shelf full of books. Whatever noise it was, it had my full attention on top of what was directed toward Uncle Walter’s face directly in front of mine.

Aw, shit! This wasn’t getting any better and I couldn’t remember ever being this scared.

“Listen to me boy, you’re not a nobody,” he said, breathing the words into my face. Then, just as suddenly, he let go and went over and sat on the edge of his desk. He looked down at the floor.

I must have looked like a scared little boy, I certainly felt like one. I wanted to drop to the floor and wad myself up into a little, insignificant ball, but that was the old Geoff. I was grown up now.

“Uncle Walter, I feel so out of place here. This house is so luxuriously huge, half the time I don’t know where I’m supposed to sit. Up until a few weeks ago, I was the only known queer in a high school full of straight kids. I lived in a psychiatric experiment; and, well, I’m fluent in so many foreign languages sometimes I can’t even keep them straight, but the point I’m trying to make is compared to you, I’m, god, I can’t say it. Can I?”

He was still staring at the floor and he was breathing hard. Papers were strewn all over from him climbing over his desk, but he kept staring at the floor.

“We’re not talking about comparing me to you,” he said after what seemed to be a long while. “We’re talking about trust. I don’t naturally trust people. Being queer, you don’t trust most people. You just never know when someone will lash out at you or stab you in the back simply because they hate faggots. But, I want to trust you. I want you to drive the Roadster because, quite frankly, you’re not going to drive the Benz, Ferrari, or the Dussenburg. And, I’m not going to buy one of those cars nobodies drive. You’re living with me, now, and I fully expect you to start acting like you live in the lap of luxury. Come on, let’s go for a ride.”

He walked out of the library and I followed. Passing through the laundry room, he took a set of keys from the key rack by the door. They were for the Roadster. I wasn’t feeling all that comfortable, but I knew it could only get worse. He opened the door to the third bay in the garage. He tossed me the keys.

Of course, I didn’t catch them. Even if he’d handed them to me, I’d probably have dropped them. I bent down to pick them up and knew he was watching me. Everyone looked at uncoordinated Geoff when he didn’t make a catch. I stood up and he wasn’t there, he was sitting in the Roadster.

I went over to the driver’s side and he said, “You drive.”

“But, I …”

“Damn it, Geoff, I said drive,” Uncle Walter said. He wasn’t looking at me.

I got in and started it up. After waiting for a moment to collect my thoughts, I backed out of the garage. I hadn’t done much backing in my driving lessons, so I went real slow and overcorrected too much too many times. It’s a wonder I got the silly thing out of its hole.

Uncle Walter looked over at me and slowly shook his head. He got out of the Roadster and walked over to my side.

“You practice putting it into the garage and backing it out,” he said. “When you can do it without all that extra steering wheel action come and see me.”

He walked away.

I spent the rest of the morning backing out of the garage, then reversing course back inside. It took me awhile to figure out how the Roadster needed to be parked in its bay. Then I moved on to figuring out how the Roadster needed to be positioned once it was outside. Backing out wasn’t enough, I had to be ready to head down the driveway. Then I started backing further out so I could get it set up to pull into the garage.

By lunchtime, I was ready as I was ever going to be to take Uncle Walter for his ride. I didn’t want to, though. I was still working on the trust stuff he’d brought up. I guess he was right to feel offended because I didn’t trust him, but I still didn’t feel I knew him well enough to know what to expect. Trust is a two-way street. If I didn’t trust him, how could I expect to do the right things to earn his trust in me?

Lunch at the house was whatever you found and fixed yourself. Bertrand fixed lunch when Ruben, Julie and Ricky came over that first day, but after that he let us fend for ourselves. I guess he trusted us to clean up whatever mess we made.

There was a note on the refrigerator that Ricky had called and wanted me to call him. What a choice for a teenager, boyfriend or food. I made myself a ham and cheddar on rye, with lettuce, a couple slices of tomato, and a huge dollop of guacamole. Bert made the best guacamole in the world. I think it was the diced habeñeros.

I sat down at the little desk in the kitchen and dialed Ricky’s number. I’d never been in a house with so many telephones. There was Uncle Walter’s work phone in the library, Bert’s in his office, mine in my bedroom, the kitchen phone, and another one in the foyer. What surprised me the most was they all had different numbers, but could call each other like an intercom. The one phone at Ricky’s house answered on the third ring.

“Hello?” It was Ruben. Time for a little fun.

In my best female impersonation, which wasn’t all that good, I said, “Hello, lover boy, want me to come over and suck your cock?”

“Hey, man, you fucking … Oh, shit! … Yes, Mama … No, Mama … I’m sorry, Mama … (whispering) I’m gonna get you! You want Ricky?”

“Yeah, that would be nice. Hey, Ruben, how’re you doing with Julie? Haven’t seen you guys in awhile.”

“Man, like she’s so fuh, fuh, dang virginal, you know. She hardly lets me kiss her. Look, I got to go, okay? You coming to the party tonight?”

“What party?”

“Ricky will tell you all about it.”

It wasn’t more than a moment when a friendlier voice came online, “Geoff?”

“Hey, sweetie, how’s my favorite teen boy?”


“Hi? Is that all I get?”

“Mama is right here … Yes, Mama, it’s Geoff … No, Mama … I know, Mama … Jeez! You’d think I didn’t know other people lived here. What are you doing?”

“I was practicing backing out of the garage.”

“In the Roadster? You could’ve called. I could’ve rode with you.”

“I didn’t go anywhere, but back and forth.”

“But you were in the Roadster. Hey? Why were you doing that?”

“I did a shitty job of it with Uncle Walter in the car.”

“He was going to take you out for a driving lesson in Roadster?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Guess who’s sixteen today?”



“But, I thought you just turned fifteen.”

“No, I was fifteen for a year and now I get to be sixteen. Aren’t you going to wish me a happy birthday?”

“Happy birthday.”

“You don’t sound too happy about saying that. What’s wrong?”

“I thought you were a year behind me in school.”

“No, man, I’m going to be a junior, too. Are you coming to my birthday party?”


“Tonight at my house. It’s just going to be Mama and Papa and Ruben and Julie. You’ll get to meet Papa.”

“I’ll have to go get you a gift.”

“No gifts. We don’t do gifts on birthdays, but you can give me something, later.”

“You know, now that we’re the same age, maybe I could find something you might like.”

“Great, I’ll look forward to it. I’ll have Ruben come over and get you. It’ll be about four or so. Okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll shower and wear something sexy.”

“Not with my father here. He’s worse than Ruben. Are you in your bedroom?”

“No, in the kitchen. Why?”

“I was going to suggest we have phone sex.”

“I thought Mama was there.”

“She’s stepped out … No, Mama, I didn’t say that … WHACK! … Ow! I gotta go … I’m sorry, Mama.”

And, the phone went dead.

“I’d like to apologize for the way I’ve been acting,” I said. Uncle Walter was back in the library working and, not too surprising, all the extra chairs were back in their places. I sat down in my favorite, the red leather wingback. “I want this to work, but I guess I’m going about it all wrong.”

“You’re a teenager,” Uncle Walter said, looking up from a script. “All teenagers go about it all wrong. That’s what makes growing up so interesting. The ones that learn from their mistakes go on to greater things. The ones that don’t usually die or end up getting some girl pregnant, furthering their incompetence onto the next generation. The trick is to get them to flameout before they have a chance to breed.”

“Well, you’ll never catch me breeding,” I said. He smiled. “I wanted to let you know I’m going to a birthday party tonight, so I won’t be home for supper.”

“Anyone I know?”

“Yeah, Ricky is sixteen today.”

“I thought he was a year younger than you.”

“So did I.”

“Do you need some money to get him a gift?”

“He told me they don’t do birthday gifts in his family.”

“Fuck that! You have Bertrand run you down to get him a birthday card and I’ll put in a little something.”

Well, I hoped it was going to be little, but suspected Uncle Walter’s idea of a “little something” would be a check for sixteen hundred dollars.

“Do you think you could do me a favor?” Uncle Walter asked. He looked pensive. “This new movie I’m putting together needs an older teenager and, well, Brian DeBree isn’t quite what a lot of us had in mind. I’d like to get a look at Ruben Ortega, again. Will you ask him to call my office?”

“Sure, I’d be glad to.”

“Good. Thank you.”

Dismissed, again.

I went to find Bertrand.

I wanted to look good for Ricky, but not too good. I put on a pair of khakis, my best madras shirt, and my black penny loafers. I stood in front of the mirror in my bedroom. Snazzy, I said to myself! The front doorbell gave off its distinctive bing bong ding dong, twiddle dee dee. Making sure I had the envelope with the birthday card and Uncle Walter’s gift, I hurried to see if it was Ruben.

After not tripping down the Busby Berkeley staircase, I opened the door to see Ruben in a white t-shirt, blue jeans, and black high-tops.

“Oh, honey! You’ve come for your blowjob!”

“Cut the crap, faggot!” He wasn’t smiling. Not a good sign. “I don’t know why I have to be your chauffeur. You’ve got plenty of faggots in this house to ferry you around town.”

“If it’s too much for you, I can call a cab,” I said. I stopped, while he continued down the walk to his car. Julie was sitting shotgun, not her usual place, closer to Ruben’s thigh.

“Come on, faggot,” Ruben said. “We ain’t got all day.”

“Is there something wrong?” I asked. I hadn’t moved. I definitely wasn’t interested in getting in his car and listening to his crap.

“Are you coming with me? Or, are you going to have a faggot attack and start crying?”

“I’ll call a cab,” I said. I turned around and walked back toward the house. I got maybe ten steps before I felt his hand grab my shoulder. I tried to shake it off and continue on, but he grabbed my arm and wouldn’t let go. When I turned around, Ruben looked like a little boy who’d lost his favorite toy.

“Look, Geoff, I’m sorry, but everyone’s been on my case today. Too bad you’re not serious about that blowjob, I could use a little attention right now.”

“What makes you think I’m not serious?” I stared into his eyes. It didn’t take him long to look away.

“But, you’re Ricky’s friend.”

“Yes I am, but you’re his brother. I have no intention of telling him, but if you want to step inside, I might be able to relieve some of that tension.”

He stared at me for a moment, then turned and yelled at Julie, “Geoff forgot something, we’ll be back in a minute.”

She waved.

“You know, man, this isn’t right,” Ruben said as I led the way up the Busby Berkeley staircase. “I mean, you’re Ricky’s buddy and all, you know?”

“Yeah, that I am, but you’re his brother and I have to be nice to you, too,” I said. What I wanted to know, most of all, was this the new Geoff? Was this what I’d become after psychiatric treatment? He was Ricky’s brother, but wasn’t I cheating on Ricky somehow? On the other hand, he was a boy with a dick besides being Ricky’s brother. I had hopes of similar equipment. “Come on, in here.”

He followed me into my bedroom and I promptly locked the door. Ruben looked at me like he couldn’t believe this was happening. I wondered if I looked the same way to him, but we didn’t have a lot of time so I dropped to my knees and was undoing his jeans. I wanted access to everything so I pulled down the jeans and briefs; except, the briefs were what I expected, nor what was underneath.

“Ruben, you’ve been holding out on us,” I said. What I expected to be white briefs turned out to be pink panties with frilly white lace trim. Underneath was cleanly shaved skin. The average, unremarkable dick swelled before I could touch it. Cupping the hairless balls with one hand, I put the other behind and grabbed a cheek as smooth as a baby. Almost as soon as my mouth sank over the head he was shooting.

“You’ve got a bit of explaining, young man,” I said as Ruben put himself back together.

“I made it to Letterman’s Club at school,” Ruben said. “All this is a bunch of initiation shit. I have to be like this until we win our first game.”

“You came kind of quick, too.”

“Coach says we need to stop jacking off so much and channel that energy into being better players.”

“And, you believed him?”

“Yeah, he’s our coach. We have to believe him.”

“Well, the next time you feel a little overwhelmed, come see me.”

“I don’t know, man, this is just too weird. What’s Ricky going to say?”

“Are you going to tell him?”

“No, but he’s my brother. He’ll know something is up if he asks me.”

“I’ll tell him tonight, okay?”

“You will?”

“Yeah, I guess I kind of have to,” I said as we finally made out the front door. Down in Ruben’s car, Julie looked a little pissed from having to wait, but then we weren’t gone all that long. “Oh, yeah, one other thing, my uncle wants you to call his office. He wants you on his next movie.”

“I ain’t having none of that queer shit, man,” Ruben said, stopping about twenty feet from his car. He turned to face me. “The last time those faggots were all over me and I was only fifteen, you know. I’ll call, but he’s got to keep them faggots away from me or I ain’t doing no more of his movies.”

“How about if I talk to him about that,” I said. Somehow it didn’t surprise me Uncle Walter had queers working for him, but to hit on a fifteen year old boy, that was too weird; on the other hand, maybe I didn’t know who was doing the hitting or who didn’t know he was so damned cute. I had to admit it, Ruben was a good looking young man. Adolescence hadn’t done him wrong at all, not like Brian DeBree; and, if the last few minutes were any indication to Ruben’s willingness to stick his dick in any mouth that came along, maybe someone was just a little too forceful. I’d definitely have to talk to Uncle Walter.

“Hi, Julie,” I said when we got to the car.

“Oh, hi, Geoff, you guys certainly took your time,” Julie said, scooting over so I could get in the backseat.

“Ruben wanted a blowjob, but I’m surprised it didn’t take as long as it did,” I whispered, then winked. She looked at me like she believed me. I smiled and nodded. She smiled like she knew I knew she was using Ruben for cover. “It’s okay, I understand.”

“Thanks,” she said. “I should be dating you. I’d certainly be a lot safer.”

“What are you two talking about?” Ruben asked as he put the key in the ignition.

“You, who else would we be talking about?” Julie said, scooting over to him and kissing him on the cheek.

I was definitely overdressed for the occasion. Even Ricky was in blue jeans, but I was the guest, the guy from up in the hills where everyone wore fancy clothes, not that I was wearing anything fancy. Ricky’s dad, Papa, was big, warehouseman big with lots of upper body muscles from throwing around a lot of shit. The guy was definitely working out for some reason.

“Papa, this is Geoff, my friend,” Ricky said. Papa was sitting in his chair. Husbands always have a chair that is theirs. Usually it’s pointed directly at the tube and Papa’s was not exception. He had the requisite beer, cigarettes, and an attitude.

“Hi, Geoff, so you’re the fucking faggot who is dating my fucking faggot son,” Papa said standing up and taking my hand in his. His grip was firm and I hoped my firm grip was acceptable. He certainly didn’t try to squish my hand like a lot of guys with too much muscle fiber in their brains often tried to do.

“Nice to meet you, sir,” I said. I did consider a snappy, wiseass reply to his faggot remark, but figured why should I ruin Ricky’s day anymore than his father was obviously trying.

“So tell me, Geoffy, are you letting Ricky stuff you or is it the other way around?” In the corner of my eye, I saw Ricky shake his head. He’d said that his dad was worse than Ruben and now I knew what he was talking about.

“Sir, if you don’t mind, I’d stopped answering to Geoffy a number of years ago.” I looked him straight in the eyes. I wasn’t in the mood to have this bastard, even though he was Ricky’s dad, fuck with my mind.

“Strange, you certainly look like a Geoffy, a fucking faggot Geoffy who lets my son shove his little faggot weenie up your loose faggot ass. I bet you moan like hell, too. ‘Oh, oh, Ricky let me have your little faggot weenie.’” He was staring straight at me.

“No, sir, we haven’t had sex, yet.” I wanted to punch him in the nose, which was a strange thought considering I wasn’t the kind of person to punch a guy in the nose. Grabs his nuts maybe, but no punching.

“Come on, Geoff, let’s go to my room,” Ricky said grabbing my forearm and pulling me away from Papa.

We hadn’t gone three feet when Papa dad said, “I’d cut your fucking nuts off if you weren’t my son, and that goes for your fucking faggot boyfriend, too.”

“Come on, Geoff, hurry up,” Ricky said. He practically pulled me toward the hallway, but we weren’t quick enough.

“Who the fuck are you?” Ricky’s Mama yelled as she came out of the kitchen. Ricky kept pulling at my arm, but I turned to see her clobber her husband upside the head with a wooden meat tenderizer.

By the time Ricky shut his bedroom door the yelling and screaming filled the house. Ricky was visibly shaking and I helped him to sit down on his bed where I put my arms around him and held him against me. I felt him start to cry, but continued to hold him.

“When he’s finished with her he’ll come in here and start beating on me,” Ricky sobbed.

“Surely he won’t do anything with me here,” I said, wincing at the sound of a dull thud that shook the house. I imagined Mama being thrown against a wall, but maybe it was just a piece of furniture. I hoped it was a piece of furniture because the yelling and screaming continued unabated.

“He’s crazy. He doesn’t care if you’re here. You’ll be lucky to come out of this alive.”

After living in a house full of crazies, I still wasn’t too certain I wanted to be around this crazy when he came for Ricky and found me, too. The thought of being on the receiving end of fists turned my stomach into a bowl full of slithering slimy eels. I had no intention of staying and taking a beating if there was a chance I could escape.

“Ricky, I want you to pack some clothes,” I said, getting to my feet. Things were being thrown in the living room. I hoped one of them was not Mama. “We’re getting out of here. You can stay at my house until things cool down here.”

Ricky looked at me as if I was some kind of fool. I think he really wanted to stay and get beaten up by his father. I began to wonder how many times he’d been on the receiving end of that crazy man’s fists.

“Come on, hurry up, he’ll be in here any minute,” I said. I went to his dresser and opened drawers looking clothes.

“Hey, you guys, I’m sneaking Julie out of here,” Ruben said as he came into the room. “You want to come with me.”

“I’m trying to get him to pack a few things so he can stay with me,” I said as I pulled out underwear, socks, t-shirts, jeans, and sweatshirt. “But he just sits there. Look at him. Is there a bag or suitcase I can put these in?”

“Yeah, he has a duffel bag in his closet. Come on, Ricky, we got to go. Papa is going to be real pissed once he gets done with Mama. You don’t want to be here this time.”

This time? Ricky was in a daze, shock more likely. He was more than willing to sit right where he was and take his beating even though he hadn’t done anything to cause it, except preferring boys to girls. Well, I was going and I was taking him with me.

I found the duffel bag and started filling it with the clothes I’d already found plus some button down shirts hanging in the closet, a pair of dress slacks, and the snazziest pair of black wingtips I’d ever seen. Ruben had Ricky standing, but there still wasn’t anyone in the control room. The duffel bag was heavy, but since I stuffed it, I figured it was my job to carry it since Ricky wasn’t in any condition to help. Ruben just sort of aimed him toward the window. After he opened it I tossed out the duffel bag and climbed through so I could help Ricky. He went through the motions, but his expression showed no sign of any sort of understanding. His eyes were as blank as a cartoon character’s, black dots on a empty face.

We all made it out to Ruben’s car without the crazy man noticing, but as we were backing out of the driveway, I could see him through the living room window pounding his fist into Mama’s face. There was blood splattered everywhere. I could imagine what he’d do to me and didn’t want to think about it. I don’t know if anyone else saw what I did, and I didn’t let on I’d seen anything.

Ruben took Julie home first then headed up into the hills to Uncle Walter’s house. All of us got out and went in through the back gate. Uncle Walter was out on the patio with Bertrand and he got up when he saw Ruben. I don’t know if it was a good time, but I nudged Ruben over towards the patio.

“Go on, you might as well get it over,” I said in a low voice. “And try to remember not to call either of them faggots. We don’t like that, you know. But, you need to tell him about your concerns on the set. Okay?”

“Yeah, I guess I should,” Ruben said. He looked worried and I suppose that was understandable considering what was happening at his house. “What about Ricky?”

“We’ll wait for you in the kitchen. Okay?”

Ricky simply stood beside us not saying a word, not looking at anything in particular. He followed me into the house as if he was on one of the psycho drugs Doctor Randall sometimes gave us. I had a feeling he was going to lose it at any moment and hoped we’d be up in my room when that happened. I still hadn’t figured out how I was going to tell Ricky about giving Ruben a blowjob, but I knew I had to tell him. I hoped it wasn’t going to make matters worse.

When I saw Bert coming toward the house, I parked Ricky on a barstool. “I’ll be back in a moment, okay? Will you be alright for a minute?”

He nodded his head.

“What’s going on?” Bert asked when I intercepted him at the door.

“Ricky’s parents are fighting and I thought it best if he stays with us for a couple days. Is that okay?”

“Sure, you pretty much know the routine around here. Is he okay?”

“No, not really. It was pretty bad back there. I guess this isn’t the first time and from what Ricky was saying, his father is a real asshole sometimes.”

“If you need anything, you let me know.”

I could see he wanted to kiss me, but I turned away. I felt his hand on my bare forearm, but I shook it off. Now was not the time for Ricky to see me kissing Bert, even if it didn’t have anything to do with sex, mostly.

Even though he needed to get back to their house, Ruben helped me get Ricky upstairs. He wasn’t talking much, but I guess he laid the law down on Uncle Walter. Surprisingly, or maybe not, Uncle Walter agreed to all his demands. He said they won’t start shooting until after the first of the year so he’d still be able to play football and hopefully be noticed by the scouts from UCLA. Ruben had his heart set on playing football at UCLA.

Ricky stayed in his stupor until Ruben finally left, but even then his demeanor was very subdued. He simply sat on the side of my bed and stared at his knees, while I put his things in two empty drawers in one of my dressers and put the hang-ups in the closet. I felt sorry for him. What a birthday present from his parents, “Congratulations on reaching the good ol’ one-six, but by the way we’re going to beat the crap out of each other.”

I wanted to comfort him, but I didn’t know what to do, or what would work. With all of my recent experience with depression, being committed to the county psych ward and living in a psychiatric group home, I should have been able to sit right down beside my best friend and work a magic spell over him making him smile again, but I couldn’t do anything except sit down beside him and try to make him feel I cared. I knew I couldn’t say, “I understand what you’re going through,” because I didn’t know what he was feeling. He was obviously hurting deep inside, but I couldn’t begin to guess what was going through his mind.

And, then my phone rang.


“This is Ruben. Tell Ricky Mama is in the hospital. Tell him she’s okay. She’s not, but don’t tell him that.”

“And, your father?”

“He’s in jail. The neighbors called the police when Papa threw Mama out the living room window.”


“No kidding. Anyway, I think Papa’s going to be in there quite a while this time.”

“This time?”

“Yeah, this has happened before, but he’s always gotten out on probation real quick. Tell Ricky I’ll let him know how things are. I guess he’s going to need somewhere to stay until Mama gets out of the hospital.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll stay here and get things cleaned up. It isn’t the first time I’ve had to do this. Tell Ricky I love him.”

“Why don’t you?”

“No, man, we’d both end up crying.”

And, he hung-up.

“Ruben?” Ricky asked. He hadn’t moved through the entire conversation.


“Mama’s in the hospital and Papa’s in jail. The only difference this time is that I’m not there with her. I guess this is what I get for being a faggot. Happy birthday faggot, I’m not going to beat the crap out of you.”

“Don’t say that! This has nothing to do with you.” I sat down beside him and tried to put my arms around him, but he pushed me away. He was weeping now. Tears were dribbling down his face. Suddenly, I knew what had to be done.

“Come on, let’s get those clothes off,” I said. He looked at me, his lower lip trembling like a little kid who was going to fall apart and start crying because we weren’t going to Disneyland like we promised for the past month. “I think you need a good cry. Come on, I’ll do your shoes and socks. You take care of the shirt. Come on, Ricky, you need to lie down for awhile.”

I knelt down on the floor and removed his shoes and socks. Then undid his belt, unbuttoned his jeans, and pulled the zipper down. I thought of what happened early in this room when I’d done the same to Ruben; only this time there wasn’t going to be a blowjob. He stood up and I pulled his pants down and helped him step out of them. He looked so cute standing there in his tight, white briefs almost blubbering from what occurred less than an hour ago.

“Do you want my teddy bear?” I asked. It arrived a few days earlier along with the Corsair, which I had displayed on top of my chest of drawers. I slapped the bear a couple times to make sure there wasn’t any dust on it and handed it to Ricky. He kind of held it by one arm. “He likes to be hugged. Go on, it’s only a teddy bear. Okay, get into bed.”

I pulled back the covers and helped him get comfortable on his side with my teddy bear up close to his chest. He was very close to losing it. I had only moments to get it right.

“I’ll come back in a little while,” I said bending down to kiss his tear stained cheek. “Come on, Ricky, hold the teddy bear close. He can’t help you if you don’t hold him tight against you. Yeah, just like that. Now, shut your eyes and remember this will pass. Things will get better. And, Ricky, please don’t stop the tears, let them carry your sadness away.”

I pulled the sheet over him and walked away, toward the door. He was loudly bawling by the time I held the door open long enough to step into the hall. I closed it quietly and went down to the kitchen to see if there was anything to eat.