Date: Wed, 13 Aug 2003 19:40:54 -0700 (PDT) From: M D Subject: The Silent Violin - Chapter 3 Legal Notice: The following story contains descriptions of graphic sexual acts. The story is a work of fiction and has no basis in reality. Although the names of places used DO exist, they are in no way reflected factually in this story. Don't read this story if: * You're not 18 or over, * If it is illegal to read this type of material where you live, * Or if you don't want to read about gay/bi people in love or having sex. The author retains copyright to this story. Placing this story on a website or reproducing this story for distribution without the author's permission is a violation of that copyright. Legal action will be taken against violators. Note: This story will be slow moving, and plot oriented. It is not a porno, though sex will happen. It's a fact of life. Words in between <> are sign language, as text formatting does not support italics. E-mail responses to the story, questions, suggestions, criticism, and comments to: EquinusScorpius@yahoo.com Thanks for the feedback so far! THE SILENT VIOLIN CHAPTER 3 On February 23rd, Marjorie and Sebastian moved into their new house. The two- bedroom ranch-style home was situated in one of the newly built communities just outside of Tilson. Granny Eleanor had pulled in many favors from her days as a mortgage consultant and Gramps dipped heavily into the savings he had squirreled away. He had been planning to buy a yacht and take Granny sailing around the world. Marjorie found a new and better job as an administrative assistant to the principal of a middle school in Kingston. The pay was much more than she had made with any of her previous jobs and Bastian was thrilled that his mother had more free time to relax and do things for herself. She quickly arranged a transfer of enrollment for her son into Kingston High School, as it was only one month into the third semester, and spent the rest of her time arranging the house to her liking. The weekend before his first day at Kingston High, Marjorie took Bastian up to the Poughkeepsie Galleria for new school clothes and supplies. Bastian thoroughly enjoyed their day together and thanked her by treating her to a movie. They saw Star Wars: Episode III at Regal Cinema 12 before heading home to get ready for school. Bastian was extremely nervous Sunday night. He had vague memories of Kingston High School from when he sang there with the kindergarten chorus in the holiday concert a year before his accident. It was a sprawling complex of several multi- level buildings connected by enclosed walkways. Some three thousand students, grades 9 through 12, were currently being educated at KHS. Because of his accident, Bastian had been left behind in kindergarten and so was now a freshman at fifteen. He wondered if anyone would recognize him, or at least remember him from ten long years ago. He thought fleetingly of Aiden McKennough, his best friend from kindergarten, and wondered if he still lived in Tilson. He hadn't had a chance yet to go around the old neighborhood. Carefully he laid out the clothes he would wear, deciding how to make the best impression. Black boxer-briefs and gray athletic socks were the easy part. He chose a pair of black corduroys with a black woven leather belt. A pale gray mock-turtleneck and a black button-down shirt were added to the outfit (he'd leave the button down shirt open). Matte black leather Oxfords completed the ensemble. He looked critically at the outfit spread out on his bed and sighed. It would have to do, fashion was never his strong suit. A black canvas messenger bag was propped against the foot of his bed next to the case containing his new violin. The messenger bag was fully stocked with notebooks, pens, pencils, a calculator, his laptop, and anything else he might need. A small notepad and pen was in the front pocket for easy access to written communication. He'd learned the hard way that if he didn't have something to write with and on, he'd be misunderstood. A knock at his door preempted his mother's entry. Marjorie came over and slung an arm over his shoulder, pulling him into a casual hug. "Looks good, Bastian," she said, looking over the outfit he'd selected. "You nervous kiddo?" Bastian smiled slightly and wiggled his hand back and forth. ? He signed. "I'm sure some of them will. Only one way to find out. You can't back out on me now, bud. You asked for this, remember?" she scolded. He nodded. "I have something else for you. I cleared it with the school district, so you can bring it to school. Just don't flaunt it around and make a big deal of it, okay?" He nodded again, wondering what it was. She stepped away from him and back out into the hallway, stooping down to pick up a bag outside his door. Eagerly he took the bag from her and emptied its contents into his hands. She smiled at him and explained, "It's a TDD (Telecommunication Device for the Deaf) cell phone. You can type what you want to tell someone else, and it will translate it to spoken words. I've taken the liberty with programming it with my work and cell numbers, and Gramps and Granny's home phone." ! He signed, and hugged her tight. . "I know, that's why I got it for you." She smiled and winked at him. "Moms know everything." She glanced at his alarm clock. "I think you had best get to bed early tonight; get well rested for school tomorrow. I'll drive you to school, unless you don't want me to. It's on the way to the middle school, so its no problem." . Bastian shuddered in mock horror. He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. . "I love you too, Bastian. G'night." When she left, Bastian carefully transferred the clothes from his bed to his desk chair, shucked off his clothes, and slipped beneath the comforter. He double-checked the alarm set for 6:00 am and clicked off the lamp. He lay staring into the dark room for quite some time before flipping back the covers and sliding out of bed. He threw on a pair of boxers and moccasins and slipped silently down the hall to the bathroom. His mother's light was on in her room and he could see her shadow holding a shadow book. He stepped into the bathroom and closed the door silently behind him, flipping the light switch. He stood looking into the mirror over the sink, staring at himself. His eyes were drawn to the ugly scar across the remnants of his Adam's apple. He grimaced at it and grabbed his toothbrush. Squirting a gob of toothpaste onto the bristles he began to brush his teeth and walked over to the toilet. As his right hand brushed his teeth, his left tugged the waistband of his boxers down to let his penis spring free. He was semi-hard from having to urinate and it took him a few moments before the flow would come. He finished brushing his teeth as his urine slowed to a trickle and he leaned forward to spit into the commode. He shook the drops from his glans and flushed the toilet, going back to the sink to wash his hands and rinse his mouth out. His penis was still uncomfortably semi-hard, and thinking about it only made it harder. Hesitating a moment, he pumped some of his mother's hand lotion into his hand, flipped off the light, and scurried back to bed, closing his bedroom door behind him. He lay back in bed, careful to keep the lotion cupped in one and off the sheets. With his free hand, he pushed his boxers down to mid thigh, leaning back on his shoulders to slide them beneath his buttocks. He rubbed his hands together to warm the lotion and slid both hands to his crotch. The lotion was still cool, but pleasantly so. Slowly, he stroked himself to full hardness with one hand. He rubbed his left palm over his glans, curling his fingers down to teasingly touch the sensitive joining of shaft and head. The pleasure radiated from his cock, sending waves of ecstasy up his spine. He bit his bottom lip to keep from moaning and threw his head back into the pillows. His toes began to curl from the intense pleasure and he had to stop for a minute to regain his breath. He opened his eyes and saw that it was almost midnight and mouthed "Shit". With renewed motivation, his fist flew up and down his slick cock. A soft squelching sound could be heard as his own natural lubrication and the remains of the lotion began to froth. He began to jerk his hips off the bed into his hands and he groaned silently as he shot his load all over his smooth belly. His cum pooled in his navel and began to slide ticklishly off his side. He darted one hand to the strand of cum dripping off his side and slid it into his mouth, grimacing slightly at the taste of lotion on his fingers. He mopped up the rest of the cum in his pubes and on his belly with his boxers and squeezed the last few drops from his softening dick. Smiling happily, he pulled his comforter over himself and quickly fell asleep. The squawking of his alarm clock jolted him from sleep and his mother called from outside his door to get up. He was up instantly, excited and nervous. He took a hot shower, washing the remains of the previous night's jack off from his pubes. The fragrance of peppermint filled the bathroom as he shampooed and rinsed. He dried himself off quickly, running a small amount of gel through his hair to control it, applying deodorant liberally to underarms, and checking his face for blemishes. Teeth brushed and morning toilet taken care of, he hurried back to his room to dress. He finished dressing and glanced at himself in the bedroom mirror, happy with what he saw. I look good, if I do say so myself, he thought cockily to himself. He turned around and checked his ass out, nicely highlighted by the corduroys. The combination of unbuttoned dress shirt over mock-turtleneck was comfortably casual as well as flattering. He grabbed up his messenger back and violin case and hurried to the kitchen, where he could smell his mother making eggs. "Good morning, honey. Have a seat." She nodded towards the breakfast bar where a plate of vegetarian sausage and a glass of orange juice awaited him. "The eggs will be done in a few moments. Dig in." She turned back to stirring the scrambled eggs in the frying pan with a spatula. Bastian placed his bag and case on a chair and hopped up onto a stool, spearing several sausages onto his plate. He munched away happily, adding eggs when they were done, and downed a vitamin with the glass of O.J. He excused himself and went to gargle in the bathroom while his mother finished her own breakfast. He came back to the kitchen and watched his mother finish her breakfast. He was struck by how good she looked, now that she was happy again. Her black hair had regained its luster and was pulled back into a youthful ponytail. The grief that had lined her face had faded and the smile was back in her blue eyes. Bastian thought the navy blue dress suit really accentuated her slender figure. I'll have to see if I can't find her someone, he thought to himself. Marjorie turned around jingled her keys. "You ready to go, Bastian?" Bastian nodded, gathered his bag and violin, and followed her out the door. Kingston High School was situated on top of a hill overlooking busy High Street. It was only 7:25 when the Blackmoores pulled up to the parking lot at the base of the hill; school started at 7:50 am. Eben hopped out of Marjorie's Toyota Camry, kissed her goodbye, and started up the hill towards the main building with his messenger bag slung across his chest and the violin case a reassuring weight in his left hand. The main office was to his left as he entered the double doors of the main school building. The hallways were eerily quiet so early in the morning and his footsteps echoed back to him from the tiles. Lockers lined the halls, the wall of gray metal broken only by the occasional classroom or bathroom or staircase. He wandered up and down the halls, looking into the classrooms with their uncomfortable desk-chairs and chalk-dusted blackboards. Bastian just about jumped out of his skin when a reedy voice from behind him queried, "Excuse me, young man, can I help you? I don't recognize you. Are you knew?" The voice originated from a wrinkled little old lady. Her brown eyes glared at him suspiciously through gold-rimmed half-glasses. Bastian reached for the notepad in his bag and she stepped back in suspicion, eyes widening fearfully as she expected the worst from him. He held his empty hands out to her to show her he was harmless, holding up one finger to ask for more time. He retrieved the notepad and wrote hastily: My name is Sebastian Blackmoore. I can't talk because I'm mute. I just transferred from Chester A. Arthur High School in Rouses Point. Today is my first day here. I need to get my schedule and finish any my mother couldn't do. Sorry for scaring you. He handed her the note and she read it carefully, moving her lips as she scanned the note. She glanced up at him several times while reading the note, and reread it again. Bastian waited patiently. Finally she handed him the paper and said, very loudly and with exaggerated enunciation, "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were a new student. My name is Mrs. Sykes. I'm one of the receptionists here at KHS. Please come into the office and I will get you your schedule. You will have to wait in the office until school starts. I can't let you wander the halls." She smiled vapidly at him and turned to walk into the main office. Bastian rolled his eyes, shook his head bemusedly, and followed Mrs. Sykes into the office. Mrs. Sykes bustled around the office area after telling him to take a seat. She trundled about turning on computers, turning on lights, and unlocking doors. Finally she came back to the front desk and seemed surprised to see him sitting in one of the chairs. "Oh, dear me, I'm sorry. I got a little ahead of myself." She giggled to herself and sat down at one of the computer terminals. She typed a few things on the keyboard, studied the monitor intently, typed a few more things and sat back. "There we go." She wheeled her chair back and retrieved a sheet of paper from the printer. She handed him that and a folder. "There's your schedule, maps of the buildings, school policies and rules, important phone numbers, a list of after school activities, and a list of the faculty. You might want to look over your schedule, make sure everything is okay, and map out where they all are. Your guidance counselor will be Mr. Burliss, he'll want to meet with you before you attend any of your classes. He'll assign someone else to show you around the campus and get you situated." She smiled at him again and turned away to get ready for the day. Bastian took his schedule and looked it over. KHS had one 10-minute period for homeroom, seven 50-minute periods for classes, and one 100-minute period for after school activities. There was a seven-minute break between each period to get books from lockers and get to the next class. He had homeroom/first period in room 204 with Mr. Davies. Second period was Honors Biology in room 122 with Ms. Brewster. Third period was Honors English in room L-303 with Miss Pruitt. Fourth period was World History with Mr. Simmons in room P-032. Fifth period was lunch. Sixth period was Algebra II in room 204 with Mr. Davies. Seventh period was Health in room L-120 with Mr. Jacobs. Eighth period was Physical Education alternating every other day with Orchestra. Orchestra also extended into Ninth period on the days he had it. The schedule also confirmed that Mr. Burliss was his guidance counselor. He compared his schedule with the map in the folder and sighed silently. There would be a lot of running between classes. The L's and P's before the numbers designated the different buildings on campus, and there was quite a bit of distance between his classes. Well at least he'd be in shape. He was actually glad that he had gym as his last class, it was always nice not to have to go back to regular classes smelling like a locker room. He took a highlighter out of his bag and highlighted his classrooms. As he was finishing, he could hear the sounds of increased traffic in the halls. Teens talking loudly and joking about their weekend, lamenting the return to school, exclaiming that they'd forgotten to do some assignment or another. A few adults came in and out of the main office, looking at him curiously as they went about their business. Bastian assumed they were teachers. A short, stocky brown-haired main with a look on his face like he'd just eaten a pound of lemons, rind and all walked into the main office and behind the counters. Mrs. Sykes looked up as he entered. "Mr. Burliss? Mr. Burliss! We have a new student here today. He's one of yours. Sebastian Blackmoore." In a stage whisper behind one cupped hand, she added: "He can't talk, he's mute." Bastian ignored her comment and stood up, extending his hand in greeting to Mr. Burliss. Mr. Alfred E. Burliss was a generally unpleasant man. He disliked his job, disliked children, and was altogether unsuited to being a guidance counselor. He wore a brown wool sports coat, a tan dress shirt, brown tie, brown twill pants, and brown leather loafers. He studied Bastian's outstretched hand as if it were a dead bug, and finally took it in his own. His hands were dry, cool, and unpleasantly smooth. Bastian resisted the urge to wipe his hand on his pants when he let go. When he spoke, Mr. Burliss's voice was a nasal drone that instantly set Bastian's teeth on edge. "Ah, Mr. Blackmoore. How nice to meet you." He smiled thinly at him; the smile wasn't even close to reaching his eyes. "Come back to my office." Mr. Burliss set off down a passageway of cubicles and turned into one sparsely decorated office. A simple wooden desk split the room in two, with a leather desk chair behind and two hard wooden seats in front. Mr. Burliss gestured for him to take a seat, and settled into the leather chair. He turned on the monitor of his computer, typed on the keyboard and studied the monitor. "Let me take this chance to welcome you to Kingston High School, Mr. Blackmoore. I trust you will be a contribution to our little community. Mrs. Sykes has provided you with the school codes of conduct, your schedule and a map. I'll provide you with a student representative to help you get settled in. I don't expect to see much of you, as I don't expect you will cause any problems." He typed a few more things on his computer and withdrew a combination lock from a filing cabinet, typing the numbers on it into the computer. "Here's the combination lock to your locker. Your locker number is 1615. Do you have any questions?" Mr. Burliss spoke impassively in his nasal drone. Bastian shook his head 'no'. Already, he didn't care too much for Mr. Burliss. Mr. Burliss barely waited for his response before pressing the button on the intercom built into his phone. There was a beep and a click and the voice of Mrs. Sykes came through the connection. "Yes, Mr. Burliss?" "Send in Miss Jones." He ordered and clicked off the intercom. Bastian sat awkwardly waiting until a pretty young African American girl entered the room. Her hair was styled into several dozen thick braids that fell to her shoulders. Her coffee and cream complexion and the dark beauty mark at the corner of her left eye were very striking. She smiled briefly at him and looked expectantly at Mr. Burliss. "Miss Jones, this is Sebastian Blackmoore, a new student to KHS. Please see him settled in to his schedule." He said dismissively. As an afterthought he added, "He's unable to talk." The girl glanced at him briefly and nodded to Mr. Burliss. In a pleasant throaty voice she said, "Yes, Mr. Burliss. Follow me, Sebastian." Bastian recovered quickly from his shock at Mr. Burliss's casual remarks and followed Miss Jones out into the main office. He heard a bell ring somewhere in the school. She pulled smiled at him and pulled him into a hallway rapidly emptying of students as they hurried into their homerooms. "Don't mind Mr. Burliss, he hates his job," she said. She held out one manicured hand to him in greeting and added, "My name's Harmony Jones. I'm a sophomore here, and I'm the sophomore class representative on student council." Bastian took out his pad and began to write before she interrupted with, "I know sign language, if that's easier for you. My older sister goes to Gallaudet University." Bastian smiled, thinking that maybe Mr. Burliss was more competent than he appeared. He set down his violin case and messenger bag. His hands rapidly moved through the familiar signs. . He grinned. . Harmony smiled again, full crimson lips parting to reveal straight white teeth. "That's cool. I play oboe myself in both the band and the orchestra, so I guess I'll see you in orchestra. Now let's have a look at your schedule, and I'll take you on a tour of the school so you can get oriented." He handed her his schedule and she whistled between her teeth. "Well you don't have too many bad teachers. Mr. Simmons is really boring, and Ms. Brewster is tough but fair. You shouldn't have too many problems. Of course, they have you running all over the school for your classes, just like everyone else. We'll stop by your locker and you can put that lock on it." She smiled again and he smiled back as they headed off on a tour of the school. The bell letting out second period rang and the halls were swarmed with chattering teens by the time Harmony finished showing him around. She had shown him the orchestra room, and told him to store his violin in one of the cubbies. His locker, he found was a few doors down from his homeroom, so he would be able to pass it a few times a day. Harmony tried talking to him over the din of the students in the halls, but he couldn't hear her so she settled for signing to him, . She waved goodbye and ushered him into room L-303. Third period went by in a blur. Miss Pruitt was a petite young woman with mousy brown hair and pale blue eyes and insisted her class call her Miss Kitty. She welcomed him to her class, read his brief introduction to them and handed him a textbook before ushering him to a seat. He spent the morning typing notes on his laptop, the keyboard thankfully silent so as not to disturb his fellow students. He heard a few whispers from the new students, but no one approached him. Miss Kitty gave her reading assignment to the class seconds before the bell rang. Bastian struggled to gather his things as the students rushed out of the room. He waved goodbye to Miss Kitty and walked quickly towards his next class. He arrived with little time to spare, and gave Mr. Simmons his introduction note. Mr. Simmons was a tall man in his early sixties with shaggy white hair and a large, red- veined nose. He read the note silently to himself and then said aloud to his students. "This is Bastian Blackmoore. He's transferred in from a school up in Rouses Point. He can't talk because he's mute." Bastian looked over the classroom as Mr. Simmons talked to the class and recognized a few of the kids from Honors English. He smiled and nodded tentatively at them, but received no reaction. Here we go again, he thought to himself. "Bastian, you can take the empty seat next to Mr. McKennough there." Bastian started at the name and looked to where Mr. Simmons was pointing. To Be Continued.