Date: Wed, 05 Apr 2000 23:14:11 GMT
From: MM
Subject: Metron Ariston, Part VI: Nikhedonia (highschool)

Metron Ariston
Part VI: Nikhedonia

* * * * *

"Now if we take a stand
We'll find our promised land..."
     -Pet Shop Boys, "Go West"

* * * * *

The next day, I was floating down the halls of school when the announcement
came over the loudspeaker. I dropped down to earth with a bump.

"Randy Erickson. Please report to the principal's office immediately."

Anxiety came flooding back to me as I remembered the conversation of the
night before, before the moment we'd told each other we loved each other.
Randy was going to be judged for fighting. I remembered my promise as I
strode to the principal's office, my coat swirling around me.

When I got through the door, Randy was sitting in front of the principal's
desk. The principal was reclining in his seat, and a woman in a red business
suit was standing behind him.

"Mr de l'Angelier, this is a private meeting," snapped the principal. "Go to
your class immediately."

I looked him coldly in the eye. "I know something about the incident you are
about to discuss," I said, "since I was there. Don't you feel you should get
a witness's account?"

"I have already spoken to the yard monitors - " began the principal, but the
woman standing behind him interrupted.

"The young man may be able to contribute in some way. You may sit down, Mr
de l'Angelier."

The principal looked discomfited. I gave him a cold stare as I sat down next
to Randy. "This is the superintendent of the school district, Mme Elise
Desautels," began the principal. "She has been called here today to discuss
this incident, which we consider extremely serious. Although the police have
not been involved, what you did yesterday sent six people to hospital, Mr
Erickson. That is why we are considering your immediate expulsion from this
school as a penalty.

"Mr Erickson. We are going to ask you for your account of the incident. If
you would be so kind, tell me and Mme Desautels what took place yesterday.
>From your point of view." The principal lounged back and steepled his
fingers. Mme Desautels stood erect behind him, looking severe.

"Well..." Randy stammered. "I saw Alain, Jack, Steve and Andre were
harassing Denis here. And they wanted me to hit him. So I hit Jack instead
to make him let go of Denis, and then they jumped me and I had to fight my
way out."

"Is there anything else you wish to say, Mr Erickson?" the principle droned.

"Nosir," Randy said quickly.

"In review of the school rules, your attack on Mr McKie - " he meant Jack,
the guy who had been strangling me with my own collar - "and on the other
three students carries a minimum penalty of a month's suspension and a
maximum penalty of immediate expulsion. Is there anything else you wish to
say?"

Randy was pale. "Sir, if I get suspended now I'll fail the year and I won't
be able to go to college for another year. My parents will kill me, sir.
Please don't."

"You should have considered that, Mr Erickson. You are hereby suspended from
- "

My vision went red and I shot to my feet, knocking my chair over. "This is
such *bullshit!*"

The principal looked daggers at me and his mouth opened to issue a
reprimand, but I spoke over him. "You're going to destroy Randy's life for
saving mine, is that it? Do you want to know why he beat those four guys up?
Because they had been beating *me* up. And it wasn't just one time on the
schoolyard. It has been every single fucking day for the last *week*," I
said, jabbing my finger at him for emphasis.

Barely pausing for breath, I went on in a fury. "I came to you and told you
about it. I asked you to do something about it. Your precious rules say
something about fights? I was beaten up four times, twice until I lost
consciousness, Mr. Travis! And you did nothing! Not a thing! You said I
provoked it by the way I dress! That is such bullshit! Your own rules say
that each student has the right to a safe learning environment, and I have
been beaten in your own halls until I felt I couldn't come to school for
fear of my life anymore, and you did not a thing! Nobody did anything! Look
at my face!" I said, indicating my bruises and the scar on my forehead.
"Doesn't look like the product of a *safe* *learning* *environment* to me!"

The superintendant turned to him. "Is this true, Mr Travis?"

The principal turned red and started to sputter, but I went on. "Randy was a
member of the gang that was attacking me, but he had some *honour* and he
*stopped*. And then yesterday, in front of his eyes, he saw them knock me to
the ground, break my ribs, and then pick me up by my collar until I almost
strangled. And then they told him to come over and take a swing at me, too.
And he thought of all the times you did nothing, and he realized that unless
someone would stand up for me, I would end up dead. And he punched Jack in
the face and defended me from my attackers, which is more than *you* ever
did, Mr. Travis!"

I was coming to a crescendo. "Randy was the first person to show me some
compassion and interest in my well-being! He has honour and ethics and guts,
and you are going to *crucify* him for it! Fine! Expel him, ruin his life!
You've already done all you can to ruin mine!"

I threw my head back and sat down in triumph, my chest heaving from the
emotional exertion. The principal was the first to recover. "Get out of my
office, l'Angelier - "

"Travis, shut up!" roared the superintendent, and the principal fell silent
again, cowed. I was impressed; such a massive voice for such a small woman.
"Mr de l'Angelier's accusations against you are very serious indeed, and
until they are investigated fully, I find it inappropriate that Mr Erickson
be expelled. I would also like to know why no disciplinary action has taken
place against the four people whom he accuses. Until I find out all the
circumstances, you are to take *no action* in this case. Do you understand?"

Dumbstruck, the principal could only nod.

"Very well," said Mme Desautels. "Mr Erickson, you are free to go, pending a
further investigation of this matter. Mr de l'Angelier, thank you for
bringing this matter to my attention. I can assure you that it will be dealt
with." She put her hand on the desk and shot a venomous look at the
principal. "Thoroughly."

Randy and I shook her hand, and left the office. I closed the door, and then
looked back through the glass rim. It was a good thing the office was
soundproofed; the superintendant was standing over the desk, screaming at Mr
Travis in apoplectic rage.

* * * * *

"Love consists in this, that two solitudes protect and touch and greet each
other."
     - Rainer Maria Rilke

* * * * *

School was over by the time we left the principal's office, and we walked
together to my place. The sun was out, and melting slush squished under our
shoes. A single bird was chirping in the nearly dead tree in front of my
building.

We got in the door, took off our boots, and walked inside, falling onto the
sofa with a whoomf of held breath. Suddenly, Randy started to laugh. "Did
you see the look on his face!"

I cracked up too. "And did you see the superintendent as we left! She looked
like she was tearing him a new asshole!"

"Good, he needs one!" Randy riposted, and we laughed our heads off for what
had to be a full five minutes. Then he fell silent and looked at me
seriously.

"Denis, I - I mean, when you stood up for me there, I was... I was just
knocked over, I guess. You really put your ass on the line for me. And what
you said about me - god, I don't think I'll ever forget it."

I looked back at him, a warm light in my eyes. "Good, because I meant every
word. You're an honourable and brave guy, Randy, and don't forget it. I love
you."

"I love you too, Denis," he said. "God, it's so cool to say that. I love
you. I love you, Denis." He reached over and pulled me up close against his
chest. We kissed, my tongue probing deeply into his mouth and being caressed
by his tongue. It was hot and delicious, a firm connection between the two
of us, and I understood why they call it 'soul kissing'.

With the intensity of the kiss and the feeling of his firm body against my
chest, my pants suddenly tightened and I moaned into his mouth. I reached
down and put my hand over his crotch; he put his on mine. I could feel his
hardening cock through his pants and his hand on my own. With my other hand
I took off his shirt and pulled off his T shirt, then peeled off mine as
well. I stretched out on the sofa, pulling him onto me.

He looked down at me. "You're so beautiful, Denis," he breathed.

I laughed out loud. "Me? You're blinded by lust, Randy. I'm ugly."

"Don't you trust my taste?" he said, feigning hurt. "You're not ugly. I love
your hair and your eyes. They're so dark and deep, they're like you could
fall into them. And you're so skinny, it makes you look delicate. Like I
should hold you and protect you."

"You're already good at that," I said, then giggled languourously. "Who
would have thought? You're a regular poet. Besides, you're not exactly ugly
yourself."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Your hair is so soft" - I reached up to caress it - "and your face is
so angelic, and your eyes are the most amazing colour. And then there's your
big strong body," I cooed, then laughed. "You feel so soft and warm against
me. You're beautiful. I'm so lucky to have you with me."

"Me too," he said, and then kissed me again. I embraced him, pressing him
against me, grinding our whole bodies together. My cock was at its hardest
now and pressed against his. I broke the kiss.

"Randy..." I breathed. "Take off my jeans."

He reached down and undid the buttons of my black jeans and his blue ones,
and undid my zipper. I lifted up my hips and he pushed the jeans off from
around my ass down to my ankles, and pulled them off. My cock was pushing
out the fabric of my black boxer-briefs. Randy knelt on the ground.

"Randy," I said quietly. "You don't have to if you don't want..."

"I want," he said calmly. He pulled back my underwear, allowing my cock to
spring loose. "Consider it payback. For all you've done for me. Just give me
a hint if I'm doing something wrong."

With that, he stuck out his tongue and licked my cockhead experimentally. I
moaned and lay back, waiting to feel how he'd do. He kissed the head and
grasped the base, then took the head into his mouth. He started to suck me,
rubbing the edges of my cockhead with his firmly closed lips. He was doing
surprisingly well for a beginner; he must have remembered how it felt when I
was doing it to him.

He began to suck up and down the first part of the shaft, slowly jacking me
in time to his sucking. I felt the seeds of my climax begin to sprout in my
nuts, and I felt myself becoming weak, letting him blow me. I looked down;
as he knelt on the floor he had his own cock in his hand, slowly
masturbating himself as he blew me. I was happy that it was turning him on.

He patiently worked at me for many minutes - I lost track of time. Patiently
jacking me and sucking me, as my climax built up. Finally, I warned him,
"Randy, I'm going to cum!"

He took his mouth off and jerked me swiftly, using his saliva for lubricant,
and I came onto my chest. As the cum flowed out of my cock, at the same time
- almost at the same rate - I felt a peristaltic flow of warmth and love
suffuse my brain. Love and contentment, and peace. He came onto the floor,
and we kissed.

He grabbed a kleenex and mopped my seed off my chest, tenderly, like I had
done for him when we had made love for the first time. I rolled off my sofa
and lay beside him, holding him close.

"Can you stay the night?" I asked quietly. "I want to sleep next to you."

"All right," he said, and smiled sleepily. Although it was only late
afternoon, we walked over to my bed and lay down facing each other. He
embraced me, I embraced him, and we lay still. As I drifted off, I slowly
realized that something even higher than sex had taken place.

Metron Ariston, my golden mean, my balance, had always been an escape from
the world, the dreadful, unbalanced world. But making love with Randy, I had
come across it waking.

Having him with me brought me into balance, in the real world, with no need
to escape. I could be here with him, in Metron Ariston, but aware, awake,
alive.

The End

* * * * * * * * * *

Metron Ariston
Metalogy (Afterword)

* * * * *

"Metron Ariston" is copyright (c) 2000. All Rights Reserved.  No archiving
is permitted without the author's consent.  This story may not be archived
on any webpage which charges a fee or requires AVS for access.

* * * * *
Dedication:
To the memory of Quentin Crisp.
December 25, 1909 - November 21, 1999
Farewell, your majesty.

* * * * *

Translations:

As explained, the title of the story, Metron Ariston, means "the golden
mean": literally, the excellent measure. It refers to the ideal of balance
and of nothing in excess. It was a favourite saying of the famous Seven
Sages of Greece.

This story consists in six chapters:
1) Psychotrypsis: "crushing of the soul" (from psyche, "soul" + tribo, "rub,
crush, powder")
2) Dyniologia: "talking about pain" (from dyne, "pain" + logos, "word, talk,
discourse, study")
3) Proterastia: "first lovemaking" (from protos, "first" + erastes, "lover")
4) Cathexis: the focusing of mental energy upon a subject (from kathexis,
"holding")
5) Cenophilia: "new love" (from kainos, "new" + philia, "love")
6) Nikhedonia: "the joy of victory" (from nike, "victory" + hedone
"pleasure")

As for the epigrams:

In Part II:

"Everything is chaos beside
All of my ideals are ruined words
I'm searching for a soul who can help me
I am from a disenchanted generation"
     -Mylene Farmer, "Desenchantee"

In Part IV:

"Over and over they chase me from your stomping grounds
I refuse to let them threaten my resolutions
I don't give a damn about what they'll say, I'm a chameleon
Watch out for my leaden soldiers, it's them who'll kill you"
     -Mylene Farmer, "Sans contrefacon"

In Part V:

"I don't understand anymore why
I have blood on my fingers
I have to reassure you
I'll take good care of your wounds
     My love..."
  -Mylene Farmer, "Beyond my control"

For those who are not bilingual, just let me assure you it's more beautiful
in the original French.

Ecole Secondaire Maurice Duplessis does not exist, to my knowledge, but if
it does, it's a coincidence. On the other hand, there is a metro station in
the east end of Montreal called Langelier.

Thanks for reading.

Over and out.

* * * * *