Squeeze Play


© 2013

by

Jonathan Longhorn


Disclaimer: Copyright 2013 by Jonathan Longhorn.  All rights reserved.  This story provides the struggle that takes place for a guy during his coming out process.  It certainly does not encompass everything for everyone and it is only a reflection for this one particular character; at least, for now.  If you are under the age of 18 (or the legal age to read such stories in your community), please leave now.

This story is a departure from my usual stories in that there is no sex included; at least for now.  If that's not for you, I understand; however, I hope that you will take the time to read the story as it progresses and give it a chance.

Please remember this or any story here is fiction.  In the real world having sex without using a condom can be very dangerous to your health.  Don't ruin your life or your future.  Slip it on before you slip it in.

All of the characters in this story are totally fictitious and are assumed to be at least 18 years of age.



Chapter One

Timothy Kramer nodded and offered an appreciative smile to the woman behind the register, slipped his wallet into his pocket, picked up his tray and turned toward the cavernous dining area.  Being the sports-addicted athlete that he had grown into, his eyes made a brief and yet all-encompassing pass across the room.

"Into the breach," he said with a sigh as he stepped away from the serving line and entered the melee—his eyes already focusing on a table by the windows that looked out into the courtyard; or, one of them anyway.  His eyes rolled.  This place was more like a shopping mall than a high school.

Target locked and loaded—he headed for his table of choice.

"No.  You.  Don't.  Kramer," a voice rose above the din even as a vice-like hand grabbed his bicep and he was pulled off course.  "You're with me, dude."

His table began receding from his view.  His head swiveled.  His eyes refocused.  What was his name?  First period.  The nod.  The backpack suddenly hitting the floor to open up the desk to his side.  Those bright blue eyes.  The single dimple.  The casually alpha voice telling him to, "Sit.  Sit.  Sit, dude."

Cameron.  Yeah, that was it.  Cameron Baker.  Yeah.  Cameron Baker.

"But, I was just . . . "

"No," Cameron interrupted.  "You were not, `just' anything, dude," the school's star `everything' said as he guided his prey off to the other side of the room.  "What you `are' is with `me' and that's all there is to it.  The New Dude does not sit alone.  Got it?"

"Um, got it," Timothy said as he looked longingly at the table he had chosen.  Long.  Wide.  Smooth.  EMPTY.  "Um, thanks?"

"No problemo, dude," Cameron said with a twinkle in his eye.  "I got you covered."

Did I need covered?  Timothy Kramer wondered.  No.  I just needed that empty table so I could eat.  Look for my next class.  And get the hell out of here when the final bell . . .

"Here, you take this seat," Cameron directed as he pulled a chair out for `new guy' and then made his way up and over the table he had led him to and sat opposite.

"Um, thanks?"  Timothy said as he set his tray down and smoothly deposited himself into the chair he had been delivered to.  "Um, why this chair?"

Cameron's face lit up in a smile that would have melted steel.  That dimple became much deeper with that full-on, monster grin.  "Simple.  You sit on this side, you'll be able to see how many people are staring at you, and you'll get so self-conscious you won't be able to eat your porridge and cardboard."

Timothy broke his gaze into those eyes . . . that face . . . and looked down at the tray of food.  "I didn't buy any porridge and . . . "

"Eat.  Eat.  Before it starts smoking and dissolves," Cameron said with another steel melter.  "Pepper.  Put pepper on it.  It'll help."

"But I don't think you put pepper on . . . "

"Hey guys, mind if I join you?"

Timothy Kramer's head pivoted up and to the left and his eyes took in the sight of one of the prettiest girls he had ever seen in his life.  His head tilted.  He rolled his eyes to his left and studied his abductor from Tableville . . . he looked back up.  Huh, he could swear they were the same person, except . . . well . . . she had breasts, and he was fairly certain Cameron didn't.

He shook the pebbles in his head and then jumped to his feet and pulled the chair next to him away from the table in the same movement.

"Yes.  Of course.  Please.  Here, allow me," he said as he reached for her tray.  He blushed at the smile he received and the gentle stroke of his arm.

"Thank you," Tanya Baker said with an appreciative smile as she appraised the new student.  She slipped into her chair and reached for her bottle of water.  "I'm Tanya, by the way."

Timothy smiled and offered his hand as he took his seat once again.  He shot a look across the table and then back as he took her hand in his.  "Pleased to meet you, Tanya.  I'm Timothy Kramer."

"Oh.  The pleasure is mine," Tanya said as her eyes raked over the new arrival once more.  "The pleasure is `all' mine."

"Don't let her see the side of your neck, Timothy," Cameron said through an elephant choking bite out of his triple decker bacon chili cheese burger with french-fried onion rings and enough mustard to repaint the fleet of school buses outside.  "If the fangs start protruding, grab the garlic shaker."

"Nice one, dog breath," Tanya said through barely parted lips.  You can take one of those buses home today instead of riding with me."

Verbal tennis.  Yeah, jousting.  They had to be twins.  Yeah, that was it.

"So," Timothy said as he reached for his fork.  "Shall I presume that you two are . . . ?"

"He's my brother," Tanya said with a wince.  "I love him but he's a pig."

"Oh.  I though you said he was a dog."  Smile.  Glint.  Charm her, fast, she probably runs the other half of the school.

Tanya laughed so hard, she nearly fell off her chair.  "Oh my.  He's a keeper, Cammy!  He LISTENS to me."

Cameron shook his head and took another monstrous bite of his burger.  "I'll . . . hafta . . . break him outta . . . that fast."

Timothy's head was swimming already.  He looked back over his left shoulder.  His target table sat empty.  Glowing.  Whispering with an alluring melody.  Sigh.  So close.  So friggin' close.  He closed his eyes and counted to 5 slowly.  He reopened his eyes.  Sigh.  They were still there.

Maybe this afternoon will be easier?  Probably not.  He shoveled a forkful of mac & cheese into his mouth and smiled at his two captors.

"Like I said, Timothy, watch out for the fangs.  She's into you," Cameron warned as he leaned forward and then sucked on his straw.

"A word of warning, Timothy dear," Tanya said with another caress of the new arrival's very nicely proportioned bicep.  "My dear, sweet, wonderful brother is a dog.  Don't follow too closely or you'll end up caged like the rest of his posse and `he' is the only one with a key."

"So, tell me about Coach Hardberger?"

At that moment, several of their friends came up to the table and started grabbing chairs as they plunked down their trays.

Cameron nodded and fisted each one, side to side or across the table

"Guys, this is Timothy Kra . . . "

"Holy shit," Devin Garfield choked out.  "You're . . . "

Everyone looked at him like he'd seen a ghost.  Timothy looked up at him with his next forkful of mac & cheese frozen half way to his open mouth.

"You're . . . "  Devin choked again.  "You're . . . eating . . . that . . . crap?"

Everyone stared at Devin like he'd lost his mind.  Not the first time.  Not the last.  Everyone stared at Devin a few hundred times a day usually.

"As I was saying," Cameron said with a shake of his head.  "Guys, this is Timothy Kramer.  He's new to the area.  Today's his first day with us.  He was just asking about Coach Hardberger."

Timothy was acutely aware of the armor piercing stare he was being targeted under from across the table and two chairs down.  Devin Garfield might as well be taking the pulse of his soul right now.  He made an attempt to work with Cameron's lead and return the conversation to some semblance of normalcy.

"Um, yeah . . . I, was, um . . . I've heard good stuff about him.  I was wondering what you guys think of him," he said as he finished his mac & cheese delivery.

"He's a dreamboat," Tanya said as she poked at her salad.  "Pure dreamboat."

"Er . . ."

"He's good stuff, man," Ryan Pembroke said as he wiped ketchup from his chin.  "Hard.  Tough.  Doesn't take crap from anyone.  Former USMC and just got out about 9 months ago."  Swallow.  Reload.  Another ketchup wipe.  "He's a good coach though.  And he'd die for us.  And, he expects us to die for him.  If you're thinking about trying out, you'll find out what I mean."

Nod.

Nod.

Nod.

"So now that we have sports out of the way," Tanya interrupted.  She turned her gaze toward Timothy and smiled warmly.  "Please tell me you LEFT the girlfriend wherever you came from?"

"Little Rock," Devin Garfield interjected.  He looked up as all eyes turned in his direction.  "He's from Little Rock."  Heads snapped.  Some tilted.  Questions brewed.  "Um . . . " he pointed toward their new classmate with his fork.  "Sweatshirt.  It's from a high school in Little Rock.  NOBODY wears a high school sweatshirt unless they went to that high school.  If anything," he said with a sweeping gesture across the cafeteria's inhabitants.  "If anything, `we' wear college or pro sweatshirts if we don't wear one of our own.  You see any of us wearing another high school's sweatshirt?"

Nod.

Nod.

Nod.

Acceptance.

"So you're from Little Rock," Tanya said as she speared a grape tomato.  "Love the accent."

"How can you tell, Sis?"  Cameron snorted.  "You haven't given him a chance to speak yet."

Everyone sniggered as the tomato bounced off Cameron's forehead.  Even Timothy had to laugh.

"Nice shot," he said appreciatively.  "You play ball?"

"Don't go there, Timothy," Cameron warned and immediately ducked an airborne cucumber slide that was probably sharp enough to slice his throat open.  "Hey!"

"Watch it buster," Tanya growled.  "I know where you sleep."

"You're one up, Sis," Cameron retorted with a sardonic grin.  "No one knows where you . . . "

"Hi all," a new voice chimed.  "May I?"

"Yes, please," Timothy said as he stood and reached for another chair.

"Oh my.  What's a gentleman doing at `this' table?"  Seat taken.  Tray of yogurt, fruit, a dry bagel, and two bottles of water set down.  "I'm Melanie Simington.  You must be the new guy the whole school is aflutter over," she said with a huge smile as she held out her hand.  "And, oh my . . . do I see why."

Tanya and Melanie exchanged knowing, appreciative glances and then looked back at Timothy.  Nearly in unison they both let out soft, whimpering sighs and went for the pickle.

"Stop by my locker with me after we finish here," Cameron said with an eye roll.  "I've got an extra bat."

"Um, why do I need . . ."

"Trust me, you're gonna need a bat before the end of the day, dude," Cameron said as he finished the remains of his burger and reached for his 64 ounce drink.  "Maybe a bat and a stun gun."

"Um . . . thanks?"  Timothy leaned into his bowl and scooped the remaining puddle of cheese goop left after the last of the macaroni and glanced sideways beyond the girls.  Devin Garfield was eating silently, not participating in the conversation any longer, but—he was still staring holes in his soul.  Something told him that he and Devin were going to have a private talk very soon.

As he opened his mouth to try to steer the conversation back to Coach Hardberger and possibly doing a walk-on, the riotous noise of the cafeteria was shredded by a bell.  Timothy wiped his mouth, slugged down the rest of his milk and juice and stood.  He reached for the girls' trays to carry them along with his to the conveyor.

"Leave them, Romeo," James Conroy said from beside Cameron.  "The robots will get them."

Head tilt.

"Um, robots?"

"Freshmen, sweetie," Tanya explained.  "They have freshmen who come along and gather our stuff and dispose of it.  They're so good to have around for things like that, aren't they?"

"Um, well . . . "

"You're with me, dude," Cameron said as he stood and stretched.  "Locker.  Bat.  Stun gun.  Come.  Now."

Tanya stroked Timothy's arm once more and leaned up to whisper in his ear.  "He's harmless.  The alpha `tude is compensation for his lack of adequate appendagement.  You can handle him," she said with a wink.  "We'll see you later, darling."

"I, um . . . "

"Pleasure meeting you, Timothy," Melanie said with a quick hug.  "So glad you're here.  We'll talk.  Here's my number."  She gave the international sign for `call me' as she turned and followed Tanya for the door.

"I, um . . . "

"Later, man.  Good to meet you.  Coach is in his office between 3:15 and 4:30 usually.  If you want to meet him today, hang by the fountain in Courtyard 5 and I'll go with.  I can read his expression and warn you if it's a good day or not," James said before he grabbed his backpack, turned, and disappeared into the retreating throng.

"I, um . . . "

"Coming?"

Timothy looked at Cameron, glanced down at his tray wishing he had bought more food.  Something told him this was going to be a long afternoon.  He looked up and to his right.  Devin was rising slowly.  Half gazing at the table.  Half side glancing in his direction.  Geez, that stare.  He could feel it wrapping around his spine and drilling a hole into it.  He nodded.  Devin nodded.

"Yeah, coming," he said as he grabbed his bag and headed to the far end of the table to join Cameron on the way out into the mezzanine and beyond.

Bat?

Stun gun?

Fangs?

Devin's glare?

"What the fuck?"

"Stick close, dude," Cameron said over his shoulder.  "You'll get trampled in this herd."

"Tell me about it.  I think I just did," Timothy Kramer thought as he stepped up behind his . . . what exactly he wasn't sure . . . and fell into pace.



END of Chapter One

To be continued . . . ?


Author's Note: Please show your appreciation for this wonderful service and help Nifty continue to exist by sending a donation using the Nifty donations page at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html.

This is just the start of a story which may or may not be continued.  If there is enough interest, there MAY be additional chapters.  The interest shown in it will be a determining factor in continuing the story.

Please send your comments, thoughts, and ideas to Jonathan Longhorn using jonathan (underscore) longhorn at yahoo dot com.  Please start the "Subject" line with the name of the story so I don't toss your email as spam.

Thank you to those of you who have taken the time out of your day to write me about my stories.  The thoughts, comments, and feedback are VERY much appreciated.


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