The Moon in Your Eyes

By FreeThinker

Disclaimer: The following contains scenes of sexual activity between males. If you are offended by this, why are you in Nifty reading this? Oh, well. If you are offended, go away and read something else. If it is illegal for you to read this in your particular jurisdiction, then DON"T. You must be good little boys and girls. Conform. Do as you are told. The author does not condone naughty behavior of any kind!

WARNING! DANGER, WILL ROBINSON! Do not use Netscape's Internet Portal! The My Netscape portal and the associated Netscape web mail is dangerous! Stay away! Avoid! Just say no! Run away! Some evil person absconded with my Netscape web mail address for their own nefarious purposes and, GUESS WHAT? Netscape doesn't let you change your password! So, if someone has taken over your Netscape mail account, Netscape will do nothing to help you! NEVER USE THE NETSCAPE INTERNET PORTAL OR NETSCAPE WEBMAIL! They are evil! They are of the devil! They must be avoided!

So, having said that... my LATEST address for correspondence, should you deem me worthy of your comment, is: I may soon run out of free web mail services, but, at least for the time being, you can reach me here. Hugs and kisses.

The Moon in Your Eyes

By FreeThinker

Chapter Twelve

Once Jeff and I were a block away from Twenty-fourth Street and the prying eyes of the general public, I stopped him in the middle of the street, held his shoulders, and looked him straight in the eyes.

"Jeff, I love you. I love you more than anything. You are the cutest, the sweetest, the most... the most principled guy I know. I need you. You keep me alive."

My sweet boyfriend smiled meekly and looked down at the asphalt below us. After a moment, he took a deep breath and looked back up at me with the most angelic smile any boy has ever worn.

"I know, Scott. And, I love you, too."

We turned and moved out of the street as old Mrs. Kaiser in her big, ancient Cadillac land cruiser inched down Berkshire on her way to becoming a traffic hazard on Twenty-fourth. Walking up the street, Jeff nodded.

"You are right. I think things may be getting out of hand. And, I think Chad just might be getting a big head. After all, this was really Eric's idea. But, Chad seems to have just taken over."

"I wonder if its like his sex maniac personality. Maybe he just goes crazy over everything he likes to do or wants to do. You think?"

Jeff was thoughtful for a moment and then nodded.

"Sex and power. Yeah, I think that makes sense."

We were mostly silent the rest of the way to my house. Jeff accompanied me in so that I could change out of my uniform first. The Brat was mercifully absent from the living room, though Mother was in the utility room ironing again.

"Hi, Mother. Can I spend the night at Jeff's again tonight?" I asked as we walked in. Mother looked to see if Jeff was present before spitting a hateful response to me and seeing he was, seemed a little disappointed. Nevertheless, there was a hint of triumph in her voice as she replied, "Fred and I are going out to play cards with the Truckles and we can't get a babysitter. You have to stay and watch the kids."

My heart sank. Bobby and Cindy hated me and would never mind me. It would be impossible to keep them from getting in trouble and, if they did cause trouble, I would be the one to catch heck for it because I was responsible. I started to protest, but I knew it was a losing cause. Without comment and avoiding the hatefully triumphant look I knew adorned my mother's evil face, I trudged up the steps to my attic, followed by a silent Jeff, whose only comment was a quiet, "Hello, Mrs. Forrester."

"It's Mrs. Hatfield," she replied, in a slightly nicer tone.

"I forgot she was married to your step-father," he whispered as we reached the top of the steps.

"Yeah. The bastard's name is Hatfield. My real father was named Forrester."

Jeff was just as distraught as I at not having any quality time together, but he did receive permission to come over and keep me company. We sat in the living room watching television and playing Monopoly as Bobby and Cindy terrorized the neighborhood, ignoring my occasional, half-hearted, insincere warnings. The Demon Seed returned home just as Johnny Carson was coming on at ten-thirty and Jeff went home just before midnight when Mother and Lurch returned. Surprisingly, I was not held responsible for all the damage done around the house and, when I was finally able to escape to my room, my stomach did not ache as much as it might have. My heart, however, was a different matter and cuddling with my pillow instead of my boyfriend was not enough.

It did, however, heal quite nicely when I was awakened from a perfectly good wet dream by a kiss on the lips from the subject of my dream. It took a moment for me to realize that I was no longer dreaming and that Jeff really was sitting on my bed in his usual khaki shorts and hippie t-shirt with the glory of heaven showing in his blue eyes.

He giggled.

"What were you dreaming about?" he asked as his right hand began to slowly rub the tent in my blanket. I moaned and thrust my hips upward.

"Ummm. Chad and his big, fat, sexy dick."

Jeff's eyes grew big and his mouth fell open. He grabbed my balls and squeezed as he stuck his tongue out at me. I squealed and jumped up, grabbing my boy and throwing him down on the bed. We then started tickling each other until our laughs and cries became so loud that I was concerned Mother might check on us.

"Shhhh" I hushed as I pulled sweet Jeff to me. He smiled and closed his eyes and our lips met. We lay down, still united, and proceeded to kiss and cuddle for an eternity. When, eventually, he came up for air, Jeff grinned and crawled down my body. My rigid erection was poking out of the fly of my pajama bottoms. He opened them and leaned down. I watched, mesmerized, as Jeff's tongue slowly slid from between his lips. I cried out as it barely touched the sensitive area behind the head of my dick. He left it there for a moment and then withdrew it. He moved his face lower and then his tongue emerged again, this time touching the ultra-sensitive sac tightly enclosing my churning balls. I clutched the sheets of my bed and threw my head back as I moaned.

Jeff teased my balls for several minutes until he realized I could take no more. Then, he made love to them, sucking and licking them until I lost control. Desperately, I grabbed my rampant boner and furiously masturbated. Jeff reached up and stopped me. He sat back, opened his shorts, and withdrew his own, long, thin, rigid dick and then began to stroke himself as he leaned down again and took my boner in his hot, wet mouth.

I tried to keep myself from screaming, but his mouth felt so good. His tongue sliding across the underside of my penis was so incredible, the sucking, the heat bringing me closer and closer to my moment of ultimate joy. I took his head in my hands as I thrust my hips upward, fucking my sweet Jeff's mouth and running my fingers through his silky blond hair. I caressed his perfect face, listened to his heavy breathing and the slurping sounds of his desperately sucking mouth. I watched his hand flying wildly up and down his own rigid boner and, once again, I suppressed the urge to cry out.

Jeff's breathing was becoming increasingly ragged as he sucked me and jacked himself off. I watched as his hips squirmed and I felt his hot breathing as he puffed through his nose against my abdomen. I was losing all rational thought and when I realized I could take no more and the feeling in my dick grew beyond anything I could endure, I came. I moaned and groaned as I pumped and pumped, desperately fucking myself into my boyfriend's mouth as I heard his own joyous cries and felt his hot cream squirting on my thighs.

I fell back and gazed in wonder at the beauty of my incredible Jeff, at the silky golden hair falling over his face and the cream dripping from his lips. His cute tongue reached out and he licked his lips and grinned.

"Ummm," he said as he swallowed. I giggled as he lay beside me. We held each other and cuddled, giggling and kissing and whispering sweet nonsense to each other until I looked at the clock.

"It's almost ten," I said softly. "What do you want to do today?"

"Well, Beverley gave me some money and I thought we could go over to campus and eat lunch at the union and then get you some party clothes at Valhalla."

"Valhalla?" I asked, looking at Jeff as if he were demented. "That's a, that's a... a... a head shop!"

"Well, yeah. But, they also sell really groovy clothes there, too. I bet I could make you look really cool for the party tonight! You'll be the hottest guy there!"

I sat up indignantly.

"What's wrong the clothes already have?"

Jeff shrugged and smirked uncomfortably.

"Well, they're... they're kinda... kinda boring."


I jumped up from the bed and stormed over to my closet.

"Here!" I exclaimed, yanking a pair of maroon pants from their hanger. "You think these are boring?"

Jeff giggled. "No. I think there dorky. They're highwaters. You look like a dork when you were them."


Jeff looked down at the bed uncomfortably.

"I love you, Scott. But, you really look dorky when you were them. Especially when you wear those white socks with your penny loafers."

He sighed and looked fearfully at me.

"You look like a dork."

I dropped the pants on the floor in resignation.

"How about my slacks and a nice alligator shirt?"


"Well," I huffed. "I suppose you want me to wear some crazy psychedelic hippie shirt like that and some love beads and sandals!"

Jeff grinned.

"Now, you're talking!"

I rolled my eyes.

"No way!"

"Get dressed. Let's go."

"No way!"

"Come on, its getting late!"

"No way!"

"Put some clothes on and let's go!"

Fifteen minutes later, clad in a pair of jeans and a green alligator shirt and some sneakers, I was following Jeff north on Berkshire toward the campus of The University of Westport.

"I can't believe you're dragging me to Valhalla. My grandparents would kill me if they knew I was going in there. What if someone sees us?"

"Maybe they won't think you're a dork anymore."

I stopped. Jeff turned and immediately his face took on a look of regret.

"Do you really think I'm a dork?" I asked softly.

Jeff smiled sadly.

"No, Scott. I don't think you're a dork. I think you're the coolest guy I know. I love you. I don't care what you wear. I would love you if you wore coveralls and a straw hat. I just think you might feel good and have some fun if you open up a little and let it hang out more."

"Let what hang out?"

Jeff narrowed his eyes and flipped me off.

"Come on."

It did not take us long to cross Eighteenth Street and under the Southeast Expressway into the Franklin Park neighborhood. The university was across Twelfth Street and across from my old school. Walking through the neighborhood made me quiet and morose and Jeff noticed. As we stood on the edge of the park and looked across the street at the scene of so many of my earlier humiliations, Jeff reached over to me and squeezed my hand. The yellow brick building with its fake Doric columns in the front and its fortress-like windows was a depressing reminder that once this was not my school but my prison.

The distant sounds of cheering and chanting interrupted my thoughts and Jeff and I turned to the north toward the UW campus. There was a line of dormitories facing the street and it appeared the weekly Saturday afternoon anti-war protests were getting underway. On the opposite side of the campus, in the football stadium, a few thousand fans of the University of Westport Fighting Polecats were gathering to watch their team lose for the twentieth-fourth straight time, this time to the Purple Pack of the University of Eureka. On most Saturdays, there were more students at the protest that at the game. That was probably the case today.

We dodged the football traffic, what little there was, on Twelfth Street and passed the dorms. Gathered in the oval in the center of campus were several thousand people, mostly college students, many carrying signs denouncing the war or President Nixon, some waving North Vietnamese flags, even one that I saw holding a picture of Ho Chi Minh, the dictator of North Vietnam. Jeff and I stood on the outside and watched as a guy with shoulder length hair and a beard stood on a bench and screamed through a bullhorn, "The time for sit-ins is over!"

There were loud cheers from the crowd.

"The time for action has come!"

More loud cheers. There were several policemen standing around with billy clubs and while helmets nervously watching the crowd. One of them saw Jeff and me standing by an oak tree watching.

"You two better get out of here," he said to us in an ominous voice. "It could get ugly."

Jeff started to say something in response, but I nudged him and gave him a look. I pulled at his arm and started toward the student union just as the speaker yelled, "The Fascists will never listen until we force them to!"

The crowd was cheering even more now, though a few people in the front were shaking their heads. One of them yelled, "We can't get violent! That's what they want! We HAVE to remain peaceful!"

Jeff was silent as we passed the library and out of earshot of most of what was happening in the oval. The world, suddenly, seemed to return to normal. A few college kids passed us with their books going to the library, or with coolers going to the game. They seemed oblivious to the commotion in the oval.

As we took our seats in the union with our cheeseburgers and chocolate shakes, Jeff shook his head.

"Man, its like the Twilight Zone."

"What do you mean," I asked through a mouthful of cheeseburger.

Jeff had a very puzzled look on his face.

"Well, first, it was almost like The Freaks. That guy was getting the crowd all worked up just like Chad was at school. You know?"

I nodded. "I wondered if you would notice that."

Jeff frowned. "Yeah, I noticed. And, then, once we got away from the protest and over here, everything seemed like nothing was happening. It was like that was another world."

"Yeah, that was really weird," I agreed. "Its like the people on this side of the library have no idea what's happening on the other side. Or don't care."

Jeff sipped on his milk shake for a moment and then said, "Its like people are like sheep. If someone is raising hell, they'll listen and do what they say. But, if someone isn't, they'll just stand there eating their grass. Its like at school. There are the bullies and The Freaks and then there are the kids aren't bullies or freaks. They just go which ever way everyone else is. Its scary."

A radio on the counter in the café was carrying the game and the announcer was describing how The Fighting Polecats had fumbled on the four yard line and the Purple Pack had recovered and run for a ninety-five yard touchdown. No one in the café seemed to care. Neither did we.

As we walked out of the union toward the little area of shops and bars that catered to the University community, we passed a large old red-brick building that looked as if it was from the First World War era. Jeff pointed up to a window on the top floor.

"That was my Dad's office. Most of his lectures were in that room on the second floor over there. And, in that building on the other side was where my Mom taught art. Some of her work's in the gallery over on the other side."

"Let's go see it!" I declared enthusiastically, but Jeff shook his head.

"I can't today."

I could see the pain in his eyes and I knew he was right. I squeezed his hand, (it was getting easier to do that out in public), and we walked on.

Valhalla was on the edge of the Student Ghetto. It was actually three bungalows that had been joined together by enclosed wooden walkways. All the windows had been covered over and the houses were all painted in garish psychedelic colors. There were a number of rather strange looking characters with bizarre hair and even more bizarre clothes hanging around outside the building smoking. Jeff looked at me and grinned.

"Isn't this cool?"

I was already a bit wary about this whole situation, but I didn't say anything. I just followed him across Exeter Street and toward the front door of the first house.

A weird odor hit me as I entered the door. In the vestibule, the walls were covered with flyers announcing bands at different clubs around town or speeches and events on campus. We walked through a bead curtain and found ourselves surrounded by rows and rows of albums with posters on the wall for Jimi and The Doors and The Who. There was a poster in the corner with a close-up picture of Jim Morrison. Jeff walked up to it and whispered to me, "He is so hot."

"Yeah, he is," this hippie chick next to us replied. I looked over at her in alarm and embarrassment. She grinned at me and squeezed our shoulders. "Hey, its cool. He is hot. You're cool."

She walked away and then turned and added, "You're a cute couple."

"See?" Jeff said as we walked away. "This is a cool place. People don't care about stuff here. You can just be yourself here and its cool."

We strolled past the eight-tracks and into the walkway to the second section. We were hit with more incense as we passed through another curtain of beads and I was surrounded by racks of clothes. There was a wall covered with the same multi-colored t-shirts Jeff wore with a sigh reading "tie-dyes 5.00." So that's what they were called.

Jeff picked out several paisley shirts and held them up to me. At one point, he reached up, brushed my hair down across my forehead, and held up a really garish purple paisley shirt.

"Oh, yeah!" he said as he turned to a rack of brown suede vests. He picked one up and handed the shirt and vest to me.

"Go try `em on!"

I wasn't sure about this and looked shyly about the place.

"Go on!" he urged me with some exasperation. "Get over it!"

With a blush and a grin, I replied, "OK," and took them to a closet in the corner. When I emerged, I had never felt more foolish in my life. Yet, I had to admit, I was amazed when I looked at myself in the mirror. With my strawberry blond hair combed down over my forehead and the purple shirt and vest, I looked like I should be on The Partridge Family or The Brady Bunch. I grinned at Jeff and saw an even bigger grin on his face.

"OK," I said with a blush.

"Cool! Now let's get you some really groovy jeans."

I rolled my eyes.

"Jeff, no one really says `groovy.'"

"I don't care. I say it and that's all that matters! I'm me!"

"Right on!" the guy behind the counter yelled as he raised his fist.

We found a pair of bellbottoms that were really super tight around the butt and crotch. Jeff said they were perfect. I went back to the closet to change back into my "normal" clothes and when I returned, Jeff had an evil glint in his eye.

"Come on," he said. "Let's check out the other side while were here."

"You mean..."

The guy behind the counter grinned as Jeff led me to the third section.

Passing through yet another beaded curtain, we entered, (dum de dum dum), The Head Shop. There were glass showcases all over the place and tall bottle-like contraptions with hoses and things sticking out of them. There were also black lights and weird glowing posters and artwork by Escher and Peter Max.

Suddenly Jeff nudged me and pointed to a older couple in their thirties about his parents' age. They were standing over a counter and looked as if they were examining jewelry, though I was certain it was something else entirely.

"Hey, Mrs. Emery! Mr. Emery. How are y'all doing?"

The couple jumped and looked up as if they had just been caught stealing the crown jewels. They recovered quickly enough.

"Jeffrey!" Mrs. Emery exclaimed in a voice that was both indignant and embarrassed. "What are you doing here?"

Jeff shrugged and gave an imp-like grin.

"Looks like the same thing you are!"

"What? Uh, um. What do you mean?"

Jeff started giggling.

"Don't worry. Scott and I are buying some clothes for a party we're going to tonight. I just came over here to buy some incense."

He then slipped over to them and said, with a wink and a friendly smile, "Don't worry. I won't say anything. You're cool!"

They both rolled their eyes and smiled as Jeff suddenly spotted a rack of weird sunglasses.

"Oh, cool!" he declared as he stepped over to them. He put on a pair of purple John Lennon sunglasses and in a spot-on Liverpool accent, declared, "All we are saying is, give peace a chance."

We all four laughed.

Jeff picked up some incense and then paid for everything at the counter.

"How can you afford all this?" I asked with shame.

"Don't worry. Beverley always feels guilty when she has a hang-over."

I could hear knowing chuckles from the Emerys behind us who were waiting to pay for a really beautiful brass pipe. Apparently, the Robinsons had a reputation.

I was really scared, later that afternoon, when I descended the stairs from the attic, followed by an insanely grinning Jeff and stood in the kitchen before my mother in my new clothes. At first Mother said nothing. She just stood in awe by the oven and looked at me.

"Scott?" she said with uncertainty.

"Well," I said nervously. "What do you think?"

I had never, ever warn anything so daring, so different. I had on my purple paisley shirt, my fake leather vest, my super tight bellbottoms, and my sandals. My grandparents would have had sixteen different kinds of fits if they had seen me. Bobby almost did when he came into the kitchen.

"Scott?" he said with amazement.

"You look..." Mother started and then, seemingly at a loss for words, stopped.

"You look cool," Bobby said. "But, you're not cool. Its weird. Are you doing drugs?"

I rolled my eyes.

"No! I'm not doing drugs!"

Jeff rolled his eyes and Mother looked at Bobby and said, "Get out of here."

Bobby rolled his eyes, as well, and wondered into the living room muttering, "Weird," under his breath.

"Well, Mrs. Hatfield? What do you think?" Jeff asked.

Mother finally smiled.

"Well, I like it."

I was stunned.

"You do?"

"Yes," she said with a smile. "You don't look like you have a stick up your butt. You look like you might have fun."

I could not believe what I was hearing.

"But, I thought you wanted me to dress like that. I thought I was supposed to be a nice boy."

Mother looked down at the floor. She seemed confused. I was, too. Mother seemed to change from hateful to loving at the drop of a hat. And, all the messages I had received were that I was supposed to be a good boy. Yet, here she was telling me she liked the way I was dressed! I just did not get any of this.

I felt so strange walking up the street with Jeff to his house in front of everyone. But, at the same time, I felt a sense of elation, a sense of freedom that I could dress this way. It was almost like I wanted to show off. I wanted people to see me dressed this way, instead of my usual slacks and dress shirt and penny loafers.

Jeff's Dad had gone to Shakey's to get pizza and as we sat at the dining room table, Jeff in his red paisley shirt, his father morosely munching his pizza and refusing to look up, and his mother alternating between sweet smiles and looks of being inconvenienced, Jeff kept looking at me and either grinned or giggled.

It was just after seven-thirty when the Robinson station wagon pulled up in front of the Fielding mansion. We knew we were early, but Jeff and I thought we might be able to help set up before hand. Chad's older brother, home from college for the weekend, was standing out front with a couple of guys I recognized from the upper school, (were they guests at the party? Were they gay? Were there juniors and seniors here tonight?). I felt distinctly uncomfortable again as Jeff and I stood on the sidewalk in the warm breeze of a late September Saturday evening. The cicadas were singing again and the sound of Van Morrison could be hard from within the house.

"Hey guys! Come on and join the party!"

Chad's brother was waving to us and the two other guys, wearing tight bellbottoms and paisley shirts much like Jeff's and mine, closely watched us as we approached.

"I'm Kevin, Chad's brother."

The guy held out his hand to first Jeff and then to me. I was starting to get hard, despite my best efforts not to, as he held my hand and I gazed into that handsome face. Kevin must have been nineteen or twenty and he looked very much like Chad, except his curly hair was a bit longer and darker. His eyes, though, had the same electric blue quality as Chad's. Jeff and I introduced ourselves.

"So, you guys in Chad's class?" Kevin asked.

"No," Jeff replied. "He's a sophomore." He didn't add that we were in the eighth grade. I was glad; I didn't want to seem like a kid. Unfortunately, one of the seniors took it upon himself to enlighten Chad of that.

"Oooh, weellll," he replied with a leer. "You two are gonna be popular tonight! If these chicken hawks get too much for you, you just let me know. OK?"

The two seniors giggled, not unlike the way Randy and Kelly would, though a little older-like. One of them said, "I don't think we'll be too much for them. I think they may be too much for us!"

All three of the guys laughed at that and, blushing fiercely, I followed a grinning Jeff into the house.

We entered the foyer and looked at the luxurious living room to the right. A crystal chandelier hung in the center. A spectacular fireplace with a the most intricately carved mantle I had ever seen stood at the opposite wall. I was admiring the grand piano in the corner when we heard Chad call from the end of the hallway, "Hey, guys! Come on in!"

As we proceeded down the hallway, I whispered to Jeff, "What's a chicken hawk?"

"I don't know," he replied with an even bigger grin, "but I think we're going to find out tonight!"

Chad was standing at the end of the hall, outside the kitchen, holding a platter of cheese and crackers.

"Man, you two look hot! Scott, that shirt is great on you!"

"See?" Jeff beamed. "I told you that shirt was perfect for you!"

"It sure is," Chad agreed. Then he shocked me by running his free hand over my butt.

"And, those jeans are hot, too. You've got a hot butt, Scotty!"

I started to ask him not to call me Scotty, and, possibly, to quit feeling me off, when Jeff suddenly turned and pushed his butt out and demanded, "Hey, what about my butt?"

"Hey, baby. You know I love your butt."

Chad started down the stairs.

"Come on down to the rec room, guys. The party's just starting."

I had never seen Jeff act so bold or brazen before. It was cute, but it still made me uncomfortable.

The rec room was almost as wide as the entire house. There were small windows near the tops of the walls, just as in Jeff's basement bedroom. The walls were covered with expensive paneling. There was a pool table at one end, and shelves at the other with a big television and an expensive stereo system. There were lots of nice chairs and couches scattered around the room. Eric was standing at the stereo changing the album. Chad set the tray down on a table at the side which also bore a punchbowl full of an inviting looking pink mixture.

"Here," Chad said, ladling some into a Dixie cup for Jeff. "You'll love this. Of course, you'll love it even more after Mom and Dad are gone and I

can add the secret ingredient!"

Eric had put Bobby Sherman on and now came over to us as Chad disappeared again.

"Boy, you two sure look cute tonight!" he said with a friendly smile. "You look almost too cute. If anyone gives you any trouble or anything, you let me know."

"Hey," Jeff declared with cocky swagger, "I can handle anything!"

I looked at Eric with a worried expression.

"You're the second person's whose said that to us since we got here. This isn't going to turn into some kind of wild orgy, is it?"

"I hope so!" Jeff announced as he set his cup down and started dancing to "Easy Come, Easy Go."

"Come on! Let's dance!

I looked at Eric and he winked. "Don't worry," he said softly. "I'll watch out for you."

Feeling a little relieved, yet distinctly stupid, I started swaying and moving my arms in a vain attempt to imitate Jeff's incredible, sensual, dancing. He was really good and the more I watched him, the prouder I was that he was my boyfriend.

Gradually, more guys came down to the party. Kevin and his two friends came down with a couple more older guys who seemed just as swishy. Kelly and Randy came and squealed with delight when the saw Jeff. I was surprised with I saw Patrick Monahan show up. Patrick was a really nice and quiet ninth grader whom The Freaks had protected at one point on Friday. He was not really chubby, but he was kind of fleshy. He had nice dark, wavy, curly hair, freckles across his nose, and only a few zits on his cheeks. His round metal-framed glasses made him look a little nerdy, but his shy smile when he saw Jeff and me was really cute.

"Hey," he said shyly to us as Eric poured him a cup of punch.

"I didn't know you were gay, Patrick!" Jeff declared. "This is cool! You want to dance?"

Poor Patrick looked as if he were about to be run over, but to his credit, he set his cup down and made a very brave effort. By the time the album was over, Jeff had him as relaxed as I had ever seen him.

More people had arrived by now. Most of them were from the upper school. There must have been a dozen or more sixteen, seventeen, and eighteen year-old guys milling around, grabbing each other, kissing each other, and leering suggestively at us younger guys.

There were cheers as Chad emerged from the stairway with a clear bottle above his head.

"The authorities are gone! Let the party begin!" he declared. And, as we all started chanting "Freaks, Freaks, Freaks," he poured the contents of the bottle into the punch. Eric was at the stereo and was watching Chad with undisguised concern. And, as he switched from the turntable to the receiver and "The Mighty Eight-Ninety, serving up Westport's favorite Power Hits this Saturday Night!" and Tommy James started singing "Dragging the Line," everyone lined up to get more of the fortified punch, Eric walked over to Chad, who grinned as he pointed to the punchbowl and said, "Fina has Flash," referring to a TV commercial for a gasoline company.

"Chad, there's a lot of younger guys here. You really think that's safe?"

"Ah, come on, Fielding. Loosen up. It'll be OK. Hell, you can babysit `em!"

Jeff was guzzling his punch in the corner with Kelly and Randy and bopping to The Stylistics when one of the older guys came up to me with a nice smile. I recognized him, but didn't know his name. His brown hair was combed down in a bowl over his head and his brown shirt had the first four buttons open.

"You're Scott Forrester, aren't you?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye.


"Craigardiner," he slurred. His eyes were red and he looked a lot more messed up than just one cup of punch could account for. I looked beyond him and saw little Sean Kendall, the seventh grader who had gotten the boner in the shower the other day, coming down the stairs. His blond hair was so cute and his red pants were so tight! His pink shirt was open revealing most of his thin chest. He looked around nervously; he had reason to. He was easily the youngest guy at the party.

I excused myself and made a beeline to Sean, beating a couple of seniors who also had spied him.

"Hey, Sean! What are you doing here?"

Sean giggled cutely.

"Well, Chad thought it would be a good way for me to meet other... you know... Freaks."

"Well, you're gonna meet a lot of Freaks here tonight, if you know what I mean!"

We both laughed and then I said, "Jeff is over there. And Kelly and Randy are here, too!"

"Cool! I'm gonna get some punch."

"Well, be careful. Chad's put something in it."

Sean's eyes got big and he grinned.


I accompanied him to the punch bowl and then called Jeff, who was just finishing dancing to "Baby I'm-a Want You" with one of the older guys. The guy didn't seem to want to let Jeff go and I grew a bit concerned until Jeff rather forcefully removed the guy's hand and marched over to the bowl.

"You OK?" I asked giving the guy an evil look."

"Sure. Icanhandlemyshelf!"

I wasn't quite so sure of that as he poured another cup of punch. Chad appeared with another pitcher of pink stuff and poured it in as everyone cheered and, once again, started chanting, "Freaks! Freaks! Freaks!"

Jeff noticed Sean standing by me and screamed, "Sean!"

The two boys hugged and giggled as Kelly and Randy ran over.

"Sean!" they both yelled as the hug expanded. Eric was watching and he grinned at me. It was cute.

Suddenly, a loud dog howl boomed over the room.

"Yo! Westport! You got Danny the Dawg here on the Mighty Eight-Ninety and ITS SATURDAY NIGHT! Yoooooow, wooof, wooof, woooof. Yoooooooow!"

Everyone in the room did their own rendition of Danny the Dawg's famous Saturday night dog howl.

"OK, Westport! The board's all lit up and I know what you're askin' for. Well, Babies, YOU GOT IT! BROWN SUGAAAAAAH!!"

And, everyone screamed.

Jeff and Kelly and Randy ran to the side and as the first hard guitar licks of The Rolling Stones exploded over the room, (Pum pummmm, pum pum pa pum), everyone in the room screamed again, raised their arms, and started jumping to the beat of the song.

It was so cute to see Jeff in such a state of abandon. He was so happy and having so much fun and so getting into the song as he danced with Sean and Randy and Kelly. Eric was grinning at me and I couldn't help it. We both joined in.

The party had been going for quite awhile. It had been dark outside the small windows for quite sometime when I realized I had to go to the bathroom. I had been having a really boring conversation with some eleventh grader who thought the punch had turned him into William F. Buckley. He kept using really long words that I was familiar with and knew he was misusing. I didn't want to say anything, but, I was on my third cup of Super Punch and wasn't feeling quite as charitable as I might have earlier. Somehow, I extricated myself from the situation and went in search of relief.

The restroom in the basement was occupied, so I wandered up the stairs and found myself in one of the most elaborate kitchens I had ever seen. It was obvious that others from the party had wandered upstairs as well. I could hear conversations coming from other rooms. One caught my attention. It was the voice of a boy who obviously hadn't gone through puberty yet, moaning and crying out. There was only one boy I knew of at the party who could fit that description.

It was coming from the utility room on the other side of the kitchen. I crept over there on tip toe, (rather difficult to do after three cups of Super Punch), and hid behind the corner. I could hear a slurping noise and the unmistakable voice of Sean.

"Oh, oh, oh my God. It feels so good."

Suddenly, another voice, not that of Sean or the guy sucking him, said, "Feel it baby. Feel my dick. Yeah, that's it, baby. Fuck, you are so pretty."

Obviously, a couple of the upper school guys had gotten hold of Sean and he was having the time of his life. But, gee whiz! He was only twelve! He was a seventh grader, for Pete's sake! Heck, he wasn't that much younger than Jeff and me! OK, I was going to be fourteen in two weeks. But, still!

I crept away and tried to find a bathroom in one of the hallways. I found two, but both were occupied, emanating noises one normally didn't hear during the usual evacuation of bowels and bladders. In frustration, I decided to try peeing in the back yard.

I slipped out the kitchen door into the darkness of the back of the house. I could see the various levels of the patios in the light from the kitchen and the various statues and shrubbery. As I found a dark corner bordered on one side by a concrete wall and on the other by a sculptured holly bush, I unzipped my tight jeans, pulled my partially inflated penis out and let go.

As my pee was flowing over the holly, I heard someone to my right cough heavily. They were on the level below me.

"Man, that's good shit."

"Yeah, dude. Kevin and Chad always have the best. Kevin said he got it from Mike Baldwin."

"Shit, I'm too wasted. I gotta wait awhile."

The one guy chuckled.

"I know dude. Man, this party's gonna really get good later. Chad's got like a dozen joints rolled with this shit that he's gonna bring out later when everyone's good and buzzed from that punch."

"Fuck, yeah?"

"Fuck, yeah. I'm gonna get that cute little blond kid, Jeff. He's got the hottest little butt. Fuck!"

"Fuck, yeah, man. I want that Kelly kid. He almost looks like a girl, he's so pretty."

So that was what was going to happen.

As soon as my bladder was empty, I zipped up and slipped back inside. As I descended the stairs, I could hear everyone getting down to "Chick-a-Boom, Chick-a-Boom." I hated that song, but as soon as I reached the rec room, I saw the entire party bopping to the song. There were several of the juniors and seniors, including Chad's older brother, Kevin, dancing with Jeff and the other younger guys. Jeff had an ecstatic look on his face. How could I ruin his fun? But, I knew that we had to get Sean and Patrick and Kelly and Randy and Jeff and me out of here. But, how?

Eric was in the corner, dancing with Patrick. Eric had a very peaceful, happy look on his face and Patrick looked like the calmest and happiest I had ever seen him. I hated to interrupt them, but I had to tell him.

Jeff was dancing with a senior who was really feeling him off. The guys hand was squeezing Jeff's butt and I could see my boyfriend's boner quite plainly through his jeans. I couldn't take it. I went over.

"Scottiiiiie! Hey, Dave! This is Scottiiiiieeeee. He's my boyfriend! Isn't he hot?!"

"Yeah," the older guy agreed as he eyed me up and down.

"Jeff," I said urgently. "We have to talk. Something's happened."

"Yeah, whassappened?" Jeff slurred.

"Yeah, whassappened?" Dave repeated.

I had to think fast. I put my arms around my sweet boyfriend. He was really messed up and I was scared. I had to get him and all the younger guys out of here. Fast. I put my arms around him from the back and rubbed his crotch. His boner was quite prominent.

"Oh, yeah..." he moaned.

"Alright," Dave exclaimed as he watched my hand. He started to reach forward, but I slapped his hand and gave him The Look. He backed off, confused.

"Jeffy," I whispered in his ear. "Let's go talk somewhere."

Jeff ground himself against me.

"Ummmm. Kiss me."

Believe me, I wanted to kiss him at that moment so bad. But, I had to get us out of there.

"Jeffy, sweety, let's go someplace private."

"Uh, uh. Let's do it here. Kiss me."

I could see, Eric looking at me as he held Patrick in front of him. He had a serious look of concern on his face. I mouthed the word "Help" at him and almost before I realized it, he was beside me, holding Patrick in his hand.

But, before I could say anything, I smelled an acrid odor and looked to my right. Chad was smoking a joint and handing it to one of the older guys. To his side, Kelly was smoking one and handing it to Randy. Eric muttered, "Oh, shit."

"Eric," I said urgently. "We have to get all the young guys outa here. I just heard some guys takin'. Chad's gonna get everyone messed up on drugs and then all the older guys are gonna fuck all the younger guys."

Eric looked at me, then looked around at the way the party was suddenly degenerating. Two of the upper school guys, the same ones Kevin was talking to as Jeff and I arrived, took puffs off the joints and started running their hands up and down Kelly and Randy.

"This is gonna get outa hand really fast. You get Jeff out front as fast as you can."

I was holding Jeff's hand, but Dave was holding a joint to Jeff's mouth. Furiously, I knocked it away.

"What the fuck you doing?" Dave demanded as Jeff looked at me as if I were an idiot.

"Yeah?! What the fuck you doing?"

Chad was standing next to Dave and looking at me with fury in his face.

This was the moment. I had to act. Eric had to help me. I was terrified. But, my sweet Jeff, even if he didn't realize it at that moment, as well as Kelly and Randy and little Sean and Patrick, needed me. For the last several days, anytime something went wrong, I had The Freaks to back me up. Now, it was me against the head of The Freaks. Me and Eric. And, I was about to pee in my pants.

You must now write to me. You are getting sleepy. Your eyes are so tired. You want nothing more than to fall asleep and do as I tell you! You will dream dreams of me. You will devote your lives to my happiness. You will write to me at . Ok. Snap out of it!