© 2003

By Lee Mariner

The author's copyright, dated June 2003, and all provisions of the original disclaimer remain in force.  All rights are reserved.

My friend Dean has edited this work and his assistance and input are greatly appreciate. 

This story depicts homosexual acts and is intended for ADULT READERS ONLY.  If you are not of legal age in your locality or you should you not approve of such material, please leave.

All of my stories can be found in the Nifty Archives listing of Prolific Author's under the pen name of Lee Mariner.

Any reader wishing to be notified of future episodes to this and/or other stories, please contact me at:

Chapter XXII

The Coachman was typical of most gay bars, dark, crowded, loud and smoky.   The minute Jimmy opened the door; the blast of music almost knocked me over. The noise along with the stale odor of beer, cigarette smoke and sweat was almost overwhelming.   The interior was dark and lighted mostly with florescent beer signs of a variety of colors.  Small wall sconces provided a modicum of illumination augmented by the feeble light of votive candles burning on a mixture of tables and booths.  Thankfully, the darkness outside had somewhat prepared our eyes for coping with the darkness, and it took only a minute or two before we were able to see well enough to weave our way through the closely-set tables and across the crowded floor toward the back of the bar.

There was a long bar along one wall with several non-descript, un-matched stools. The mirrored-back of the bar was filled with various bottles of liquor combined with a row of beer bottles indicating the brands carried for consumption.  An illuminated reflective ball hung in the middle of the postage-stamp sized dance floor, but  the floor was empty as it was a little early for bump and grind.  Jimmy skirted the floor, and I could see he was heading toward a set of swinging stained glass doors, which had a blue neon "Dining Room" sign over the entrance.    The glass block wall radiated with an interior light that was only a few degrees brighter than the main lounge area. 

Several young men whom I did not recognize gave us a cursory glance as we brushed by, and one of them glanced in my direction before looking lecherously at Jimmy and saying something to him as he passed.  Jimmy gave him a quick glance and a nod, looking back at me with a grin as we continued in the direction of the stained glass doors.

"Friend of yours?" I asked when we reached the swinging doors.

"He would like to be," Jimmy chuckled as we went through the doors. 

It was considerably more comfortable in the dining room than in the main lounge. I was gratified to see that smoking was not permitted and that the thick glass-block walls muffled the loud music until it was only a decibel or so above a normal conversational tone.  The dining tables were set far enough apart that a conversation could be held without the occupants at the next table hearing everything being said.  There were several tables for four and a few for two people.  They were covered with white tablecloths and held the usual receptacles for condiments along with candles in small hurricane lamps.  Jimmy led me to one of the smaller tables set against the back wall between two blacked out windows.  On the wall above the table there was a faded lithograph, with a dim light illuminating it. The lithograph depicted a 17th or 18th century Coachman blowing his trumpet, giving an advance warning that the coach was approaching.  The ornate gilded frame had long since lost its golden luster, but it was an attempt at displaying the inspiration for the bar's name.

An attractive young man made his way toward us, carrying what appeared to be menus encased in plastic folders.  He was dressed in a tight fitting tank shirt that showed the definition and hardness of his well-sculpted body.  Dark hair peeped from his armpits and surprisingly; it matched the color of the mass of unruly hair on his head.  A small apron was tied around his narrow waist covering the pelvic area of his body, but still there was a pronounced tubular outline showing where the thin cloth covered his cock.  His dark brown, almost black, eyes glinted with recognition as he moved toward us, a smile playing across the soft succulence of his full lips.

"Hi, Jimmy," He said as he placed the menus in front of us. "We haven't seen you around much lately."

The simpering sweetness of his tone caused me to look up at him, and I was surprised that a thoroughly masculine looking young man might have such a hidden feminine side to his nature. I was even more surprised to think that Jimmy might enjoy a feminine personality in men he was attracted to. 

"I've been pretty tied up, Dexter," Jimmy said, glancing across the table at me and then looking up at our waiter. "This is my friend Carl; he’s new in town."

"It's nice meeting you, Dexter," I said, extending my hand; but, when I saw that he didn't intend to shake it, I lowered it quickly.

"You too,” he answered, giving me a brief look before turning back to Jimmy.  "How have you been?" He asked.

"Busy, Dexter,” Jimmy replied. "Could you bring us a couple of Miller Lites, please?" He asked, looking at me for approval.

I could see he was embarrassed; and, even though I preferred  Killian's Lager, I nodded my approval of the Miller order.

"I hope I haven't caused a problem, Jim," I said, looking at the waiter as he left. "Is he another  'wanna-be'?" I asked, hoping I didn't sound catty.

"There are a lot of  'wanna-be's' in Richmond, Carl, if that's what you want to call them," he answered as he lifted his bottle to his lips.  "With only one gay bar, it's the only place you can meet someone unless you cruise the streets.  Christ, a guy gets horny, and this is where most of them come, ready to make it with the first guy that gives them a tumble. A little strange -- every now and then is okay, but after awhile everyone knows everyone else, and some of them don't want to let go once they think you're hooked.    Dexter is like that, and he would like a relationship; but I am not into relationships," he said, glancing at me with a nasty gleam in his eyes.

"I take it that means you prefer one-night stands?" I asked, nodding in the direction of Dexter returning with our beers.

We sat quietly while Dexter placed the drinks on the table and asked, "Are you having dinner?"

"I am," Jimmy said, looking over the menu.

"How about you," Dexter asked almost acidly.

"Nothing for me," I answered, holding back an equally acid and catty remark.

Jim placed his order, watched Dexter as he left, and then said,   "The little bitch has a hard on."

"For you, not me," I said, following his gaze as I poured beer into my glass.

"That is his problem, not mine, Carl," Jim said, his eyes looking into mine.

Dexter brought Jim's dinner; and, while he was eating, I ordered another beer. The conversation drifted in and out of careers in the service, where I had served and how often I would be home. Every now and then, someone coming into the dining room would stop by the table and Jim would introduce me, make a couple of trite remarks and return to his meal.  He ordered and drank two more beers while he was eating, and the earlier impression of him that I had gotten when we had first met at the car lot was becoming much less favorable.  He seemed to have a very cynical attitude, and some of the comments he made about the young men who greeted us were not at all complimentary.  His comments about this one or that one being a "good fuck" or "sucked a good cock" left me cold. 

Jim may have been good looking and well-built, but the more we talked the more his personality revealed a sarcastic, cynical, self-centered ego.  He had a "find 'em, fuck 'em" attitude that was becoming more and more obvious, and I was beginning to regret being with him. 

Dexter returned at almost the same time Jim was finishing his meal, which indicated to me that he had been watching us. He gave me an evil leer before pushing his crotch against Jim's shoulder, hissing, "Do you want dessert now or later?"

Jim glanced at me and then up at Dexter standing over him with his crotch firmly planted against his shoulder. He ran his hand up the inside of Dexter’s leg, and I could see the movement of his hand under the apron as he squeezed, growling, "Later, Stud, I never have dessert until later."

"Do you want anything else or does that come later as well?"  Dexter replied.

Jim looked across the table at me with his hand still under Dexter's apron, and he grinned without answering the last comment.

I had finished the second beer during this exchange; and, when Jim asked if I wanted another one, I refused.  He looked at me questioningly before ordering another beer for himself and asking Dexter for the check. When Jim picked it up, I offered to pay my share and he refused, saying,  "You're my date," as he dropped a few bills on the table.

"I'd really like to pay my way, Jim," I protested.

"Next time," he answered curtly, grabbing the fresh beer he had ordered from Dexter's hand before he could set it on the table.  "Let's see what's going on in the main lounge," he growled, jumping up from the table.

The crowd in the lounge had grown since we went into the dining room, and the music seemed to be several decibels louder than when we had arrived.  There were several bodies on the dance floor grinding their hips together and whispering into each other's ears. 

"Do you dance, Carl?" Jim asked as we searched for a table or someplace not so crowded.

"Not really, do you?"  I answered, trying to keep up with him as he pushed his way though the mob of hot, sweaty bodies surrounding the dance floor.

"I can do what those guys are doing, but I need a couple of more beers before I do," he shouted over his shoulder as we weaved our way through the crowd.

We found a less crowded spot against the wall; and, before I could object, Jim ordered us both a beer from a roving waiter.  The inter-play I had seen earlier was there; and, from the way Jim was exchanging ribald comments with waiters and others around us, I was becoming more and more uncomfortable. I began trying to think of a way I could bow out politely without offending him.

Several more of his friends were introduced to me; but, after a few words, the conversation shifted back to Jim, and he was lapping up the attention.  I felt someone's hands brush over my ass and groin, but the interest in finding out who it was had left; I wanted to leave.   Jim managed to drink two more beers and a drink someone had given him, and his speech was becoming slurred. 

When I suggested it might be good to leave, he glared at me, commenting, "What's the matter; don't you think I can hold my liquor?"

"I think you have had enough, Jim, and it is getting late.”

"Yeah, it is, ain't it? Getting late. I'm horny as hell and you haven't made a move yet." He said loud enough for everyone in the bar to hear even over the loud music.

"Easy, Baby, easy, Mama's here to take care of you,” a  non-descript individual standing close-by said.  "If  pretty-boy don't want it, I can take all you have to give."

Jim turned toward him, grinning and waving his beer bottle around, "How about eight thick inches up your fat ass?"  He growled, sounding almost like an animal.

"Ohhh, Daddy. Promises, promises," the pimply-faced kid said, rolling his eyes and leering at me as he twisted his lips in a grotesque imitation of excitement.

"Back your ass up and feel this hot cock, Bitch," Jim growled, fumbling at his crotch and looking at me with a cocky, lust-filled gleam in eyes devoid of feelings.

I stood watching as Jim grabbed the kid’s hips and pulled his ass against his groin. With a sudden twist the kid turned around and clamped his lips over Jim's, grinding his body against him.  I sat my bottle on the wall rail and disappeared into the crowd, leaving the bar.   Jim and his new found friend didn't seem to notice me leaving.

                                                             * * * * * * * * * * * *

I asked the driver of the taxi I had hailed outside of the Coachman to drop me off at the end of the driveway, and I walked toward the house.  Dalton's car was parked beside Dad's and not in the garage and for a moment, I wondered why we had cleaned ithe garage out.   "He is probably anxious to leave for the lake in the morning," I mused to myself. 

Someone, probably Mom, had left the outside light on; and there was another light inside the utility room.  I took my shoes off after closing and locking the outside door, making sure the outside light was off.  The utility room light switch was at the head of the steps; so, after checking to see whether the basement door was open, I turned the light off and closed the utility room door.

Dalton had left the night-light in the bathroom on, and its golden light was a guiding beacon shining in the darkness of the basement.   I saw his sheet-covered figure in bed facing the wall, and I tiptoed toward the bathroom to undress.   Just as I started to close the door, he rolled over, "You're home early," he said.

"I'm sorry, Dolt; I was trying not to wake you," I replied.

 "You didn't; I've been awake ever since I got home after dropping Jeff off," he said as he fluffed a pillow and leaned back against it, his broad, muscled chest glowing golden from the bathroom light. "I didn't know whether you would be home or not.  How was your date with Jimmy?"

"Oh, Christ, Little Brother.   You would have to ask that, wouldn't you?"  I said, a little dejectedly, sitting down on the bed with him.

"Not very good, huh?" Dalton said, smoothing the sheet over his narrow waist and hips.

"Nope, not very good," I said glancing down at the impression of his cock under the sheet. "How about you and Jeff? Was the movie any good?"
 I asked, quietly, my eyes following his movements as he adjusted his position.

"It was okay," he answered, looking up at me with a soft dreamy look in his dark brown eyes.  "I would have rather been with you though," he whispered softly as he reached out and took my hand in his.

The frustrations of the evening and being with Jimmy faded when he squeezed my hand and I turned toward him.  "I thought you liked being with Jeff?" I said, moving a little closer.

When he didn't answer, I looked at him but I didn't say anything as he continued squeezing my hand a few seconds longer.  I could see the glow of the night light in the softness of his eyes and his beautifully muscled chest expanding as he breathed in deeply before sighing softly and lifting my hand to his lips, softly kissing each fingers.  I reached over with my other hand and stroked his hair, whispering, "Something wrong, Kid?"

"I don't know, Carlie," he said, letting his head fall back against his pillow but still holding onto my hand.  " I get all confused when I'm with Jeff.  I like him, and the sex we have had is okay. There is still something missing, and I can't figure out what it is.  When you and I are together, there is a different feeling inside of me that I don't feel when I'm with him."

"I think I know what you are feeling, Dalt; but I can't really help you with it, Little Brother, as much as I would like to,” I said, holding his hand tightly.   "The way you are feeling is something that you are going to have to figure out yourself."

"Carlie," he said, releasing my hand and twisting onto his side.  "Can you tell me what you felt the first time you had sex with another man?"

Pictures of when I had first met Jerry and what I wanted flashed though my mind; and I knew, or at least I thought I knew, what Dalton was searching for.  Dalton was seeking to know the same thing I wanted to know when I realized that the feelings I had for Jerry were not just the need for sex but for understanding, a feeling of being wanted for what we could give to each other.   I still had the same feelings for him though not as intense as what they had been when we first met, and he had taught me there was more to a relationship than sex.   How was I going to explain that what I felt for Jerry, and still felt, had grown and matured into the deep mutual respect we had for each other that bridged the physical need for sex? 

My kid brother lay looking at me with a yearning innocence deep in the depths of his eyes. I could see an intense desire to know why what he felt with Jeff was different from what he felt when we were together.  I wanted him to know that what I was feeling was not lust but a desire for him to know that what bound us were not just the feelings of love between brothers but the feelings that only two gay men have when they realize and understand the love that made them want no one else. He meant more to me than being my brother; and, from what he had said and the way he looked at me, I could see the was struggling with the same feelings I had had but did not understand at the time.

An aching knot pulsed in my chest and I had the urge to blurt out that he was feeling those feelings that one man could have for another but an inner voice in my head flashed a warning to be careful, and I breathed in deeply, running my hand over the velvety softness of his chest.  Winking at him, I pinched his cheek playfully before whispering, "How about I take a shower, Squirt?  That bar was filled with smoke, and I know I stink to high heaven."

"Can I take one with you?" he asked, running his hand over my thigh, gently squeezing the soft inside.

His voice was softly seductive, and the temptation to take him in my arms was all but overpowering.  I resisted the sexy gleam in his eyes and smiling said,  "Not this time, Kid. Let me get the stench scrubbed off, and then I'll try to answer what you've asked me.  Okay?"

Dalton didn't say anything, but I felt his reluctance to release my hand as I got up from sitting beside him.  Stripping my smoke-contaminated clothes off, I threw them across the room onto the other bed.  I felt his eyes following me as I went into the bathroom.  Adjusting the water to as hot as I could stand it, I stood under the shower letting it flow over me, half waiting for and wanting him to join me; but I was glad that he didn't.  My mind was filled with many different thoughts about us, and having him in the shower would not have helped either one of us.  

When I finished showering, I felt a giddy feeling of apprehension inside of me.  I didn't turn off the night light before going back to where he was waiting, stretched out on the bed with one arm tucked behind his head the other lying across the smooth flatness of his stomach. The subdued light coming from the bathroom reflected in his eyes, and there was softness in them as he gazed at me moving toward him. 

For a brief moment, I stood looking down at him; and when he threw the sheet back, his strong, muscular frame glowed with the vitality of his youth.  My heart beat quickened, and a feeling of sheer joy washed over me in seeing how magnificently he had developed from the small ten year old boy I remembered from when I had been home seven years earlier!   I could see the pulsing beat of his heart in the soft, unblemished flesh of the sternum where the full sculpted muscles of his chest met. His back muscles flared downward from his broad shoulders, gently merging into his tight, narrow waist, and I looked at his hard flat stomach with its thin line of light brown hair dividing developing abdominal muscles and leading into the mass of silky soft hair surrounding the thick base of his half-flaccid cock which was resting on the fullness of his testicles.

"Dalton, I can't get over the way you have changed and the way you have developed. Damn, you are good looking!!” I exclaimed as I got into bed with him.

"No more than you, Charlie," he said, pulling the sheet over us and snuggling close, "I've wanted to be just like you ever since the last time you were home."

"But you were only ten years old then, Dalt," I answered, feeling his smooth warm body pressing close to me, his arm over my chest, holding me tight.

"I may have been only ten, Carlie, but I wasn't dumb.  I used to wake up and watch you sleeping and wanted to crawl in bed with you.   I was scared you would get mad at me if I did, so I'd sit and just look at you until you started to wake up then I'd get back in my bed and pretend to be asleep.  I didn't know much about sex then, Carlie, or what it really was. But when I peeked at you while you dressed and saw the way you looked naked, I felt excited and  tingly all over, wanting you to hold me and tell my why I felt that way,” he whispered softly with a tone of melancholy in his voice.

"Didn't, Dad ever talk with you and tell you about how boys change and the way they start feeling as they get older?" I asked, gazing into the darkness, knowing what his answer would be.

Memories of when I had tried talking to my Dad about the feelings I had when I probably wasn't much older than Dalton must of been, flooded back into my mind, washing over me with a pain I hadn't felt in years. It was the pain of not having someone with whom I could talk about why I felt the way I did when around other boys and the aching feeling deep inside. A worse pain was the fear, the fear of being called a freak and still not understanding the reasons.

"You  know how Dad is, Carlie.  You've seen how he makes googoo eyes at Mom and says silly things, but he never talks about sex.  I tried to get him to talk to me, but he always told me to wait until I was older, and then I'd understand the feelings I was having.  I even thought about asking Pastor Milner about why I felt the way I did, but I was afraid he would say something to Dad causing him to get mad at me.  Sometimes, I'd lie in bed crying and wishing you were home, and I would hug my pillow close, pretending it was you until I went to sleep. I missed you so much," he said softly.

"I missed you too, Squirt; I just didn't know how much," I whispered, tightening my arm around his shoulders and pressing my lips into his thick, soft silky hair, smelling the freshness.

We lay quietly for a few silent minutes, looking up at the amber reflection of the night light on the ceiling. An intense feeling of regret, a feeling of having failed him flowed over me.  I felt the beat of his heart against my chest and the warm softness of his breath wafting over my chest when he exhaled.  His fingers slowly moving over my ribs sent a thrill coursing though me, and I tightened my arm around his shoulders before breathing in deeply.

Exhaling slowly, almost sighing, I ran my hand over his hard smooth bicep as I said,   "Dalt, you asked me how I felt when I first had sex with another man.  I didn't feel anything except the excitement of him going down on me.  I never felt anything for any of them even though some of them wanted to meet me again.  It was easy using the excuse that I was in the navy in order to not see those that asked me for a date.  There were some guys that wanted me to go down on them, and some even tried to fuck me, but it was a long time before I ever did anything like that with another guy.   When you see someone that you are attracted to, usually it’s physical; and there is no feeling other than your desire and dreams of what the sex is going to be like, because sex is what you want.   That was the way I felt until I met Jerry Hawes," I said, hesitating and breathing in deeply trying to get my thoughts together, "it was after I met Jerry and had been with him a while that I started to realize there was more to being with a man that just a few short minutes of animal sex.

Dalton lay quietly for a minute, breathing slowly and then he moved his head from my chest onto the pillow next to mine and looked into my eyes.

"Jerry Hawes?" he asked, inquisitively.

"Jerry is a man I met while I was in Boston," I replied.   "There is about the same age difference between him and me as there is between you and me.   He was a good looking, well-dressed, well-built man that I met one weekend afternoon in a park.  All I thought I wanted was sex, but Jerry was different from most of the others, and I liked him. He had a house that was not far from the park, and while I followed him he kept looking back to be sure I was.   We had sex together several times after that first time, and I learned a lot about the feelings men can have for each other and what men can do to enhance those feelings.   He taught me that there is more in a relationship between two men than sex, and I learned that gay men need to be loved just as much as people that are not gay do.  Jerry showed me that we could have feelings for one and another, feelings that go much deeper than just getting a hard-on and fucking or sucking each other off.  We can have feelings that are just as strong as the feelings that a man can have for a woman regardless of what others say.   It's like the feelings Mom and Dad and other men and women have for each other, Little Brother, and sooner or later most of us will meet that special someone who strikes a chord deep inside. That sort of feeling grows into a love that you feel only for him."

"You mean we can love each other the same way Mom and Dad do except differently?" he asked quietly.

"Yes we can, but not differently," I answered softly, still thinking about what I had said.   "There is no difference between the love men and women feel for each other and the love that one gay man feels for another." I said, softly and for the first time feeling relaxed.  "Tell me how you felt when you and Jeff had sex the first time after you realized you liked him?"

"Pretty much the same way as you did before you met your friend Jerry; I guess," he replied. "I just wanted him to suck me off and feel what it was like when he made me shoot.  I felt that way about other boys, but I didn't know what to do, and I was afraid of what they might do if I tried anything. There were some older boys that I really liked, and I would get excited thinking about them, but that's all.  Lots of times, when I was jerking off, I'd think about what it would be like with another boy; and I wanted to feel what it was like if they were sucking me off." 

"That is what most gay men want, Dalt; it's almost the same way with everyone.  We all like and need those feelings.  Sometimes you meet someone and you develop a feeling inside of you that you don't really want it as much with others, but you crave to do it with that special someone who makes you feel good about yourself."

"Did you feel that way with the guy in Boston?"

"At first I didn't; I just wanted the sex; but, after a few months with him and from the way he treated me, I knew he was different.  I knew that I liked him and he liked me, and I guess we were falling in love,  but we knew it wouldn't last because I was in the navy."  I said, thinking back with a tinge of melancholy to when we were together before I was transferred.

"Do you love him, Carlie?" Dalton asked, surprising me with the bluntness of his question.

"If you mean do I still love him, Dalt, I do, but not the way I think you mean.  There is a difference between loving someone and being in love with them.  When you are not together and you feel that no one else will ever make you feel the way that one person does, you are in love.  I don't feel that way about Jerry; but I love him, and those feelings will never change.  I'm grateful for all that he did for me other than the sex, and I always will be.   We all need to be loved and wanted by someone, Dalt,” I whispered into the amber darkness,  "and you, Little Brother, I’ve wanted more than anyone.  I just didn't know it until that first night I was home. I probably would never had known it if we hadn't showered together."

Dalton, moved away slightly and rising up on his elbow, he looked down at me. His dark brown eyes glowed softly, as he rubbed my chest and said quietly, "Do you mean that, Carlie?  You aren't saying it just because we are brothers,  are you?"

Reaching up, I placed my hand on the back of his neck, squeezing gently, kneading the sinewy muscles.  I could feel tenseness within him; and it was as if he were holding his breath waiting for the answer that would unlock the door to his inner-self, the self he was seeking.

"Dalton, being my kid brother will never change, and if there were  no other reason than that, I’ll always love you.   It's not our fault that we are brothers or that we are gay; that’s something no one has control over.  But, when two brothers, two men fall in love, there are feelings that surpass even those feelings; and those feelings are what binds them, makes them feel as if they are one person. That is how I feel about you," I said, running my hand up and down his arm and looking deep into his eyes.       

He hovered over me for several seconds; his eyes delving deep into mine, searching; and I gazed up at him, hoping he saw how I felt.  Lowering his lips to mine, he whispered as he kissed me, "That's the way I feel about you, Carlie.  I think I have always felt that way but I didn't know why."

When I heard him, I felt a thrill of joy welling up inside of me, filling my whole being; and my heart raced almost uncontrollably. I felt the tenseness leaving him as his chest touched mine, and I slid my arms around his chest, holding him close.  As his tongue mingled with mine, our breathing was slow and even, and I felt the beat of his heart, synchronized with mine in a fast but  even cadence.  I knew the way we felt for each other had always been there. I ran my hands up and down over the smooth rippling muscles of his back as we kissed; and I felt his body relaxing, melding with mine. When I squeezed the hard muscled cheeks of his ass, he lifted his lips from mine and taking my face between his hands, he smiled.  His eyes sparkled with an excitement I hadn't seen before and I asked as seriously as I could, "Dalton, do you realize what you are saying, what you are telling me?"

"That I love you?  Yes. I've always known that, Carlie; I just didn't know, until now, that what I was feeling was more than love of brother for brother."  he said as he pulled my hands from his face, looking at me with an impish grin.  "Carlie, let's go to the lake," he said quietly, surprising me.

"What!!" I exclaimed, "now, right now?"

"Yes, right now," He answered boyishly.  " There is so much more I want to know and I want to make love with you there, just the two of us. I want you to know how much I love you, Big Brother, just you."

"But...but, we haven't gotten the stuff we need from Mom, yet," I stammered both excited and elated from what he had said.

"Yes we do," he answered as he slid off of me. "I told her we might leave early, and I packed everything, we would need, in the car after I got home."

"What about Jeff? " I asked, a little tentatively.  "Weren't you going to ask him whether he wanted to go with us?"

"I didn't ask him;  I wanted it to be just you and me." He said, brightly as he sat up on the bed. 

"You devil," I said grabbing him and pulling him back against me, "you planned this didn't you? All of this talking and you've had this on your mind all of the time."

"Yes," He answered, " It's been on my mind since before you got home, and now I've got a whole week with you all to myself," he said, twisting his head and nuzzling my neck with his nose.  "I wasn't sure if you would be home tonight after you went out with Jimmy, but I was hoping you would be."

"I would never have gone out if I known this," I said, holding his struggling body against me.

 "Please, Carlie," he pleaded, slipping from my grasp, "lets go."

* * * * * * * * * * *

We were like two excited kids, dressing and quietly sneaking out of the house.  It was an elopement that would be consummated later.   I had a feeling deep within me that the next week would do more than substantiate the feelings we had admitted we felt for each.   I looked back at the house as Dalton drove as quietly as a dual piped Mustang could in the early morning hours. The window in Mom and Dad's bedroom lit up as we turned off of the driveway onto the highway, and I had the feeling that they knew more than we suspected. .