Date: Mon, 13 Jan 2003 22:50:12 EST
From: NJRimzu@aol.com
Subject: Billy and Danny: Freshman Year, Ch.1

This is a story of love between two young men. If you are under age, or
live in an area where reading tales of male sex is illegal, or if you're
not into this type of story, please leave. The story begins in 1969. While
the story and its characters are completely fictional, it takes place at
places that are real and is told against a backdrop of some real events.
And, while I promise you there will be lots of hot sex in this story, it
doesn't come early, so be patient. If you're looking for a quickie, go to
Encounters. Remember this was a time when all sex was safe. It isn't now,
so please respect yourself and others enough to always play safe. Comments
are appreciated at NJRimzu@aol.com, but since this is my first time writing
a work of fiction like this, please be gentle. I would like to thank my
friend Tim for his encouragement, support and confidence in my ability to
write this.

"Time it was and what a time it was. A time of innocence, a time of
confidences." Paul Simon

"Stand for the things that you know are right. It's the truth that the
truth makes them so uptight."  Sylvester Stewart

August 31, 1969

Danny

"Counting' the cars on the New Jersey Turnpike." Paul Simon's words kept
running through my head as we drove the ten miles from Exit 11 to Exit 9,
the last leg of the one hour journey from my old life to my new life. From
the house I'd lived in all of my life to an unknown dormitory with an
unknown roommate on a campus I'd visited once. Maybe Paul was right and all
of the others on the road were looking for America. I had no idea what I
was looking for.

All my life I've been pointed toward college and now it's here. I've been
looking forward to going away to college for as long as I can remember. And
even though Rutgers is so close to home, it is still away. Independence,
growing up, being free. These are the things that have excited me, the
things that I've been looking forward to. But only recently I've felt fear
and anxiety creep in, slowly at first, then crashing into my life the past
week. Not fear of being on my own, or even of classes or tests or grades. I
know I can handle all of that. It's fear of dorm life, of having to share a
room with a stranger, of sharing a bathroom with a lot of strangers. These
things probably don't even enter into most guys thoughts or if they do,
they look forward eagerly to the excitement of living in a dorm. But they
are not me.

My name is Daniel Stephens, though everyone has called me Danny for as long
as I can remember.  I am 17 (for a few more weeks), 5'9", 140 lbs. (at
least until a week ago when my nerves took over), blonde with green eyes.
Going from the known into the unknown has made me a nervous wreck the past
week. I've been unable to eat, was sick all week and have lost nearly 10
pounds. I feel as weak as a baby and totally drained. And it doesn't help
that it's practically the hottest day of the year and I'm wearing a jacket
and tie.

"That's how college boys dress", Mom insisted.

"Yeah, right", I thought, "hasn't she been watching all of the anti-war
demonstrations on the news?"

And of course the car has no air conditioning.

"A useless luxury and a waste of money." Dad wouldn't even go for a radio
in our cars until a couple of years ago.

I've always been painfully shy and insecure, which has led to my being a
real goody two shoes, the best little boy in the world, craving approval,
the kind of quiet, polite kid that no one even notices, a bit of a bookworm
and a nerd. I am socially inept. When I look at myself in the mirror, I see
a cute, bright, friendly, even funny guy. But when I step out the door, I'm
just an insecure, mumbling mess. That in itself could explain why the idea
of dorm life terrifies me, being tossed into a living situation with
strangers who are all `better' than me, cooler, more social, more
interesting.  But there is one more thing. I am queer. I like guys. Looking
at a good looking guy, either in class or in the showers after gym is the
most exciting thing I can imagine. The biggest challenge in my life has
been getting through gym and showers without getting aroused. I've never
told anyone or done anything, but no girl has ever attracted me in the
least, so I know what I am. I got through high school without anyone
suspecting. Being a nerd has its advantages. No one wonders why you don't
have a social life. No one wonders why you don't have a girlfriend.

But starting today, I'm sharing a room with another guy. He could be a jock
who will pick up on my being a faggot and hate me and tell everyone about
me. He could be a cool, confident, popular guy, one with girls hanging all
over him, who will start to wonder why I'm not dating. He could just be an
average Joe who will still wonder what's wrong with this picture. All I can
hope for is that through some miracle, I get paired up with another nerd,
someone like me.

After an eternity of lines and red tape and sweat, Mom, Dad and I went up
to see my new home, Demarest Hall, room 320. No one around, so apparently,
I'm there first. A simple, basic room, two beds about the size of army
cots, two desks, two dressers and one large closet. Dad and I put down the
two suitcases. Mom started fussing about getting unpacked and Dad started
giving me all kinds of advice, but I was starting to freak out.  As tense
as I was feeling, I took a deep breath and calmly asked them to leave.

"Mom, Dad, I know you want to help and I appreciate all you're doing, but I
can unpack and get settled myself. I'm going to be here a long time, but
right now, I just want to lie down for a bit and rest. Why don't you go
home and I'll call you later?"

"Are you sure you don't want me to put your things away for you while you
rest?" Mom asked.  "Thanks, but I'm sure."

"Let us know if you need anything, son".

"I will, Dad."

After a tearful hug and kiss from Mom and a firm handshake from Dad, I was
finally alone. I threw my jacket over a desk chair, loosened my tie and
undid the top button on my shirt. I picked the bed near the window and laid
down in complete exhaustion, wondering how I was going to survive here.


Billy

"Freedom! Freedom!" I tried my damnedest to get Richie Havens to drown out
Mama's prattling as we rode down Route 1. She kept switching back and forth
between Reverend Mead's sermon this morning and how I was the pride of the
family and how I should behave and not humiliate the family in front of
"white folk". Shit! She even made me wear my suit, on the hottest day of
the year, just to prove I was as good as any of them.  Thank God, Pop
decided to start his Sunday afternoon at the corner tavern early and not
come with us. Not that he would have. He's always hated the idea of me
going to college.  He wanted me to work on the loading dock like him. Or
maybe go to Essex County College and get a job in the office. Even Mama
wanted me to stay home and take the bus downtown, to County College or
Rutgers-Newark. But I wanted out.

Out of the ghetto and its dead end no where lives. Even if it means having
to deal with Whitey, having to put up with all kinds of racist shit. I'm
getting out of here and not looking back. Thanks to Mrs. Watson, my English
teacher, I got into Rutgers in New Brunswick, far away from this burned out
hellhole, where I can get a decent education.  And that will be my ticket
out of here forever. Even if I have to put up with white folks for a
while. I can't wait for it to start and even more can't wait for it to be
finished, so I can move on and be who I want to be.

My name is William Matthews. And that is what I make sure everyone calls
me-William-not Bill or Billy, or Will or Willie. No nicknames, no
belittlement. I've lived my whole life in the Central Ward of Newark. I'm
17, for another month, 5"10", 150 lbs., black hair, black eyes, black face,
black body and black dick. And if it appears I don't like white folks, I
don't. The only white folks I've ever known were shopkeepers up on
Springfield Ave. who hated us kids, thinking we were always stealing from
them (we were) and some teachers at school, who thought we were too dumb to
learn anything.  And two-faced politicians who lied to us every chance they
got.  I've always done well in school, especially in English, thanks to
Mrs. Watson's encouragement. I've been in a gang since I was 12 and can't
count the number of guys I've fought and beaten, just to survive in this
neighborhood. I don't particularly like violence and fighting, but if you
live here and get straight A's in English and good grades in other courses
in school, you'd better be able to fight.  Besides, being able to beat up
all the other guys around, being a mean, nasty son of a bitch is a good
cover.

Because I'm also a queer. I like guys. Seems like I've always known it
though I've never done anything about it. So all of this fighting is a good
way to throw everyone off. Plus, being mean, nasty and belligerent,
especially toward girls, explains why I don't have a girlfriend.  All of
this is why today is so important. Getting out of this neighborhood. Being
able to be me, not having to beat respect out of anyone, even if it means
having to deal with white racists on a daily basis. I know my roommate will
probably be white. Even though the school is somewhat integrated, the odds
are way against lucking into a black roommate. I can only hope that he's
not some soft, namby-pamby suburban kid, but a tough, street-wise city kid,
someone like me.  Mama and I seemed to wait in line forever, being shuffled
around, getting no help and no respect.

Finally, I got my room assignment, Demarest Hall, room 320. Mama walked
with me as I carried my one suitcase and my small portable phonograph up to
the room.  The door was open and as we walked in, I saw this pale skinny
white boy asleep on the bed by the window, the one I would have liked.

"Hey, white boy, looks like we're stuck with each other."

"Shhhh," Mama whispered, "You boys have got to live and get on together."

The white boy woke and slowly sat up on the bed. He was dressed like me and
soaked in sweat. He looked a bit dazed and out of it.

Taking Mama's advice, because she was there, I put on a smile, walked over
to him and offered my hand.

"Hi. I'm William Matthews. I guess we're roommates for the year. This is my
mother."

He seemed polite, if a bit meek.

"Hello, Mrs. Matthews, nice to meet you. I'm Daniel Stephens, though I
prefer Danny.  And you, William, what do you like to be called?"

"William," I answered a bit stiffly. "Mama, why don't you head back on home
before the shore traffic picks up?"

"Okay, baby. Be good and stay out of trouble."

`You know me, Mama. No trouble."

"Right," she came back sarcastically. "I mean it. Be good."

With that warning and a long tight hug and kiss, she left. Leaving me and
the sweaty white boy (Danny, was it?) alone. I looked him over. Just what I
was hoping to avoid. A real wimp, afraid of his own shadow, a total
nerd. But I have to admit he's not bad looking. I've never thought about
white boys that way, maybe because there haven't been any white boys in my
life, but he is definitely on the pretty side.

He sat there on the bed and I stood there in the middle of the room and we
just stared at each other, realizing we would be living together in that
small room for a year. I was dying in the heat in my suit and he seemed to
be suffering the same. Finally, I suggested we change into more appropriate
summer clothes and unpack and get settled. I quickly stripped down to my
briefs, threw open my suitcase on the bed and started looking for something
to put on. He slowly took off his shirt and undershirt as he sat there,
stood up and unfastened his pants. As they dropped, he bent over to pull
them off his feet. He stood up quickly and fell forward toward me, knocking
me over, the two of us ending up on the floor in our briefs, him on top of
me, out like a light.

Danny

I woke to this deep voice with a kind of a drawl. I looked up and saw my
roommate standing in the doorway. Two thoughts hit my brain at almost the
same time. First, "Oh my gosh, he's black." And second, "Wow, is he
beautiful." I guess growing up in a totally white suburban town, it never
occurred to me my roommate would be anything other than white. And, though
I had spent my adolescence lusting after boys, all of those around me were
white and I had never given a thought to any other race. But, my gosh, he
was so sexy. Smooth dark brown skin, thick lips like mine, slightly wider
nose. And the most beautiful deep brown eyes. He had a smile that was half
sneer, like he was striking an arrogant pose, but smiling behind it. He
introduced himself and his mother and I stammered through the
introductions. After a few minutes his mother left and he suggested we get
more comfortable and get unpacked. I was feeling so tired and weak; I got
undressed sitting on the bed. When I stood to take off my pants I felt a
little dizzy. I bent down to take them of and as I stood up, I fell
forward.

Next thing I knew, I was lying on top of him, both of us in our underwear,
face to face.  My penis started getting hard instantly, so I rolled off him
quickly, hoping he hadn't noticed. I started talking, almost babbling, to
cover up my embarrassment.

"I'm really sorry. I've been sick the past week and haven't regained my
strength. I guess I stood up to quick."

"Sick? You mean like contagious? You were just in my face. I hope you
didn't give me anything, white boy."

I froze. He hated me. I couldn't have made a worse first impression. And to
make it worse, I kept on babbling.

"No, nothing contagious. Just a bad case of nerves actually. I've been
really uptight about starting college, living away from home, stuff like
that, you know. Not really sick, nothing you can catch.  I'm really sorry I
fell on you. Are you okay? I didn't hurt you did I?"

His eyes glazed over and a bit of a sneer appeared on his lips as I rambled
on. Finally he said, "Forget it. I'm okay. Just don't make a habit of it,
white boy."

We each pulled cut-offs and T-shirts from our bags and put them on. The
next hour was taken up with unpacking in almost total silence, the only
conversation being banal stuff like, "Which side of the closet do you
want?" or "Are you sure you don't want the bed by the window?" I had a bit
more stuff, so he finished first. He left to go down the hall to the
bathroom while I put the last of my stuff away. A minute after he left, a
somewhat homely boy with curly dark hair popped his head through the
doorway.

"Hi! I'm Joe from across the hall. My roommate Bob and I are having a
little get together so we can meet the guys in the section. How about you
and your roommate coming over?  We've got a few six-packs."

"Sounds nice. I can't answer for my roommate, but I'll be over in a few
minutes." William came back a minute later and I relayed the invitation. He
didn't seem enthusiastic, but agreed to go, "Even if just for the beer."

It didn't seem the right time to mention that I'd never had a beer. Or
alcohol of any sort, for that matter.

Billy

Standing at the urinal in the bathroom, I replayed the afternoon so far. A
white roommate, as expected, but a wimpy one that I really wasn't looking
forward to. But, man, was he pretty. When he fell on me I grabbed him and
felt his smooth creamy skin. I was in a panic of sorts, having no idea why
he had passed out, but kind of hoping he'd stay out a while so I could just
hold him and touch him. But he came to right away and pulled away from me,
fortunately before he could feel my rapidly hardening boner. As I finished
up, I started getting hard again, just remembering the feel of his skin on
mine. Maybe he's an okay guy. Maybe we can get along. I thought the hard
part of having a white roommate would be dealing with the racist crap. But
it might be harder just having to look at him every day.

I got back to the room and he relayed an invitation to meet the other new
guys in the dorm section.  Great, more white guys. This is going to be
tougher than I thought. I had always thought of college in terms of classes
and figured I could deal with white guys in class. I forgot I would have to
live with them as well. Might as well get started. And some free beer could
only help.

Danny and I went across the hall to find four white guys sprawled around
the room. I immediately felt a tension in the air. They weren't expecting
someone as dark as me, though they seemed intent on proving their
`tolerance'. I immediately went on the defensive (five against one). We
each grabbed a beer and sat on a bed, side by side.  Introductions went
around the room, though I knew it would be a while before I could connect
the names with the faces. As Danny sipped his beer and I gulped mine, the
conversation turned back to the subject before we got there-high school and
girls. While Danny and I both kept pretty quiet (he really did seem shy,
and I felt like a fish out of water), it wasn't long before I realized the
others were pulling him into the conversation with questions about his
hometown and high school, and pretty much ignoring me.  I finished my beer
and got up, saying I had some stuff to do in my room. Danny had barely
begun his beer, so he said he'd see me later. I sat down at my desk and
reality began to sink in. I just didn't fit. All of the others were alike,
related to each other and belonged. I didn't. I was an alien creature in
this society.

I wandered outside, walked around the campus for a while, wondering how I
was going to survive four years of being out of place. I ended up at the
Commons, the dining hall. I went in, grabbed a tray and filled it with
boring cafeteria food. I stood there with my tray, looking out over a sea
of white faces at row after row of tables, when I heard a familiar sounding
voice calling, "Hey Bro." I looked toward the voice and saw a long table
nearly full of black guys. I practically ran over and sat down. We all
introduced ourselves and I began to feel I might survive after all. And
then the conversation resumed. All about pussy. Who was getting it, who
wasn't, which girls were putting out, which ones weren't.  And dick size
and sexual prowess. Places in town to find some action with local girls.
Not the kind of conversation I expected at a major university, or anywhere,
for that matter. I began spacing out, totally disinterested in all their
bullshit. I looked across the room and saw Danny standing with a tray in
his hand, looking right and left, looking totally lost and alone.  I stood
up. "Hey, white boy!" I yelled across the room. Danny looked over, smiled
and headed my way. He sat down next to me, shyly smiled and said hi to the
other guys and started to eat. I introduced him to the others, who
immediately turned up the intensity of the conversation. They were intent
on making him feel out of place and by the redness of his face were
apparently succeeding. They talked about big black dicks and puny white
ones, about how women valued size above all else and how inadequate white
guys were in bed. Danny stayed quiet and ate a little, but looked like he
was about to cry.

I lightly punched him on the shoulder and said, "Hey bud, let's head back
to the room.  There's something I want to talk to you about."

We got up, nodded at the others, who gave me a strange look, and took our
trays over to the trash. I grabbed the bread and an apple from his before
he dumped it and we walked back to the dorm in silence. While walking down
the hall, we could hear sounds of laughter and conversation in Joe's room.

"Why don't you see if they've got a couple of beers to spare?" I suggested
to Danny as I unlocked our room.

He came in a minute later with four cans. I gave him the bread and
apple. "You didn't eat much and it's not good to drink on an empty
stomach." "So what do you want to talk about?"

"Well, this hasn't been an easy day for either of us. We're probably as
different as any two guys can be, but I think we've both felt completely
lost at times today. We have four years ahead of us, the first one in this
room together. I think it's pretty obvious I don't like whites, and though
I would have much preferred a black roommate, I was pretty much resigned to
the odds of getting a white one. We have to decide if we're going to spend
this year ignoring each other, tolerating each other or trying to make the
best of what we've been dealt. What's your take on our situation so far?"
"I'm not sure. While you expected a white roommate, it never occurred to me
that I might get a black one. A result of living in the majority, I
guess. I know I've got prejudices and misconceptions, but I also know they
are based on ignorance and socialization all my life.  I don't hate blacks,
I've just never really known any. I try to react to each person I meet as
an individual, but being shy and insecure, I pull back a lot and take a
long time to warm up to anyone, whoever or whatever they are."

"You don't really mean you don't buy into the nigger stereotypes?"

"Please don't use that word. It just sounds so mean. But, yeah, I do tend
to think in terms of stereotypes emotionally, even as my rational side is
telling me it's nonsense, that you can't judge a whole group of people as
one. I just try not to act based on irrational biases."  This boy couldn't
be that naive. "You don't like the word `nigger'? It offends you? How the
fuck do you think it makes me feel?"

"There a lot of mean-spirited words that are only meant to make others feel
inferior not just that one. All kinds of put-downs. I've been called a
nerd, a bookworm, a fairy, a teacher's pet. None of them are anywhere near
as nasty as that `n' word, but they all hurt, no matter how much you tell
yourself words don't really matter."

"How about we try a little peaceful co-existence? I'm not saying we're
gonna be buddies, but since we're sharing less than 200 square feet for a
year, we might as well try to get along."

"You try to act like a tough bully. You say you hate whites. You use the
foulest language I've ever heard. But I saw the way you talked to your
mother. And I've watched the way you've reacted to both white and black
students here today. And I've been acutely aware of the way you've treated
me today. You are not the tough punk you claim to be."

"Then let's agree that we are both ignorant of where the other is coming
from. I'm not saying I'm gonna start liking whites overnight, but I sense
that you re not evil, that you are not the man, that maybe we can be
friends."

"I hope we can. But first we have to agree to one thing. When it comes to
each other's cultures we are totally ignorant, bound up in prejudices older
than we are. When either of us says something offensive, the other has to
call him on it, explain why it is offensive, and most of all, not take
offense. We have to teach each other. We have to learn from each other."

Danny

As soon as we went into Joe's room, I sensed the tension. Not that William
wasn't somewhat of an unknown to me, but at least I was giving him a
chance. Of course, I had to; we were stuck sleeping in the same room for a
year. But even with the obvious chip on his shoulder, there was something
within him that appealed to me. And lots on the outside too, but that isn't
even in my realm of possibilities. Even so, I'll have to admit;
good-looking guys get a bit more leeway with me than others.

It was so nice to settle back and get to know the others, though I didn't
open up too much myself.  They didn't seem to like William much though and
he sensed it even more than I did. He excused himself as soon as possible
and I thought I would follow after him. But the others were all over me as
soon as he left.

"How are you gonna be able to sleep with him in the room?" " He's so crude,
so rough.  Aren't you afraid of him?" "He could kill you in your sleep."
"He's a punk, a low-life, how'd he get into Rutgers anyway?" "Better you
than me-I'd be down at the housing department asking for a transfer."

I couldn't believe all the things they were saying. I mean, in a week of
nightmares about dorm life, a roommate like him never even entered my mind
but in the very short time I had known him, he wasn't anything these guys
were saying.  Yeah, his language was often crude, his manner tough.  But
there was something gentle and caring within him I sensed. And he had been
accepted to Rutgers College, which meant he had more than a little on the
ball.

As soon as I could, I made my exit and went across the hall. Empty room, no
William. I went out, walked around campus with my little tour map as my
guide. Ended up at the Commons, hungry as heck, and just as lonely. After
filling my tray with food, I stood and looked around the dining hall.
There were at least a dozen guys I knew of from my high school who were
going to Rutgers, though I didn't know any of them well. There had to be a
familiar face somewhere. And then I heard a voice, "Hey, white boy!" I knew
I should be offended, but already it seemed like a term of endearment, a
personal nickname.

I went over to William's table and met his friends. They were all black and
all they seemed to want to talk about was sex. Most guys all though high
school talked a lot about sex, so that didn't surprise or bother me. But
they got so crude and so racial about it, I lost my appetite and felt so
uncomfortable .I was about to come unglued when William asked if we could
leave because he had something he wanted to talk to me about.

When we got to the dorm, I popped into Joe's room and grabbed a few beers
at William's suggestion. Once in our own room, we got into a pretty heavy
discussion on our own racial feelings. We were obviously coming from
different worlds, but it was also obvious we wanted to form a bond. We were
each alone, facing a new world, and we each needed a friend. Though we
really didn't come close to understanding where we were each coming from,
we realized that we were not bad guys, that surviving freshman year could
be a problem for both of us, and that maybe we could be friends