For Love of a Dream 10

FOR LOVE OF A DREAM - 10

All rights reserved. Other than downloading one copy for strictly personal enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, except for reviews, without the written permission of the author. However based on real events and places, "For Love of a Dream" is strictly fictional. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Further, as in real life, sexual themes unfold gradually. Comments on the story are appreciated and may be addressed to the author at carl_mason@verizon.net

If you would like to read additional stories by this author, please turn to the "Authors/Prolific Authors" link at the beginning of the Nifty Archive.

This story contains descriptions of sexual contact between males, both adults and teenagers. As such, it is homoerotic fiction designed for the personal enjoyment of legal, hopefully mature, adults. If you are not of legal age to read such material, if those in power and/or those whom you trust treat it as illegal, or if it would create unresolvable moral dilemmas in your life, please leave. Finally, remember that maturity generally demands safe sex.

CHAPTER 10

(Revisiting Chapter 9)

[Author's Notes 1: Time to be heading into the City, good Reader! We'll leave the two lads in the shower stall and pick them up about 45 minutes later. The evening air was atypically warm and the top was down as the small convertible Nels had selected from the garage headed north. Note 2: There is an exceptionally heavy dose of description in this chapter. If you haven't already done so, you may find yourself wondering whether I'm trying to write a piece of erotic fiction, a travelogue, or a restaurant review! The truth is I tore it up twice and rewrote shorter versions in more direct language and from a more erotic perspective. As you will soon see, I ended up shredding the revisions and posted an only slightly revised original. Rationale: I think that the restaurant description discloses a great deal about the life that the "Nels android" is living.]

(Continuing Our Story: Shadows of the Past - The Delhi)

"Wow!" a more conservatively dressed Kenny Alison exclaimed. "This country is really beautiful, and the weather isn't far behind." "Fur shoor," Nels agreed enthusiastically. "You might have added the road. Interstate 280 is often called the 'World's Most Beautiful Freeway'. Getting on at Hillsborough and going north misses many of the most scenic sections. This way it gets us into urban areas pretty fast, but we'll see a lot more when we drive down to Stanford tomorrow.

"Beautiful lake..." Kenny mused. "The Crystal Springs reservoir," the redhead's tour guide commented. "Holds water piped down from the Sierra... We're actually driving through a 'rift valley', Ken. The lakes sit right on top of the San Andreas fault! You know...the cause of the earthquake that pretty well tore San Francisco...and Stanford... apart in 1906 with more damage in 1989." "Man..." was all Kenny could manage.

The last sunlight was beginning to fade as they began to enter the greater San Francisco metropolitan area. Reaching the City and County line, the scenery quickly shifted to urban residential and light industrial. With little reference to road signs, Nels skillfully piloted them into downtown San Francisco where they found parking for one of the City's most celebrated watering holes and restaurants. "I think we've got a treat in front of us," Nels snickered as he secured the car. I've heard dad talk about this place, but I've never been here. Word is that he keeps it strictly for use with his top clients and 'important' contacts." Grinning from ear to ear, the New Yorker exclaimed "Bring it on!" as he girded himself for his expedition into the wild "Western Territories".

If Kenny expected to encounter savage beasts...or humans...in this frontier town, he was going to be disappointed. (He couldn't even find a corral for a shootout!) Jason Sears met them as they entered. "Good evening, gentlemen," he greeted them. "Welcome to my favorite restaurant. I trust you will enjoy it and always remember it whenever you remember beginning your college experience. (If the fantastic smells in the restaurant even roughly matched the food, they surely would remember!) Jason smiled at the Maitre D' who approached, led them to their table, and provided menus and a wine list. Nels noticed that the table was away from doors, out of the main traffic patterns and, seemingly, in a somewhat quieter part of the room. (For instance, noise from the bar, an impressive room partially separated from the main dining room by carved wooden screens and deep red hangings, was scarcely noticeable.) Finally able to look around, Nels noticed that the servers' uniforms consisted of semi-military bright red tunics with black slacks. Two of the employees wore black tuxes. The furniture was heavy - and generally of highly polished mahogany. Paintings and photographs of Indian scenes and the British military in India were tastefully displayed on the walls.

Noting Jason, a middle-aged man wearing a superb tuxedo came over to the table, shook hands and greeted him affably. "Boys," Jason announced, "May I have the pleasure of introducing Colonel Jonathan Moorhead, owner of The Delhi. Col. Moorhead served in India with great distinction and today is regarded as one of the world's fine restauranteurs. The blond, Jon, is my son, Nelson; the redhead, his friend Kenneth Alison from New York City. Tomorrow they enter Stanford." After speaking with the young men for a minute, the Colonel said, "Jason, am I correct in remembering that you will have a 'No. 1 Cup'?" When Jason, replied, "Yes, indeed," the Colonel continued, "If I may make a suggestion, sir. I shall gladly provide your guests with soft drinks or anything similar they may desire. On the other hand, a member of my staff has developed an alternate version of your drink, so close that many report the differences are barely discernable. Perhaps they might like to try a 'Juniper Cup'." "Your choice, gentlemen," Jason Sears commented. "The 'Pimm's No. 1 Cup' is a most pleasing adjunct to a good Indian curry. If you're feeling 'experimental' tonight?" Grinning widely, Nels and Kenny barely glanced at each other before expressing their acceptance and thanks.

As soon as the Colonel had moved on to another table, Kenny asked Jason, "A 'cup', sir?" Their host replied, "I think it would take an Englishman to give you an adequate answer to that question, Mr. Alison. In this case, unfortunately, I'm only English-American - and the American part goes back a long ways. Nevertheless, it's essentially an English drink based on alcohol, the most popular of which is gin. (The juniper berry provides the predominant flavor and aroma of gin.) Various herbs, spices, fruit, and plant extracts are added to the base alcohol which further flavor it and reduce its strength. A large glass with ice cubes is then filled with one-third base mix, two-thirds mixer such as lemonade or ginger ale, and a garnish of fruits, mint and, traditionally, cucumber. ("The English put an unbelievable variety of 'garbage' into their cups," Jason maintained, "but I personally limit it to a long spike of cucumber and some mint leaves." "Take a quick look at the drink on the table by the painting of a British officer," Nels offered. "It looks like a fruit salad!" Shaking his head slightly, Jason smiled and continued.) Basically, boys, it's a summer drink, one often associated with sports events such as cricket, tennis, and horse racing. Like our mint julep, it may have originally been served in metal cups...hence the name. James Pimm, a farmer's son who opened an oyster bar in London, first served the drink in 1823. It's been with us ever since.

"While I have your attention, gentlemen, I note that you have already thumbed through the menu and found it...overpowering? Having personally had some...difficult experiences during my own learning period, I wonder if I might suggest the menu for your first meal?" "Difficult experiences, dad?" "Yes, Nels. Their use of spices and herbs, for instance, is only rarely duplicated in this country...even, I assure you, in an Indian restaurant! The wise man does well to use caution at first. My first curry, for instance, made my eyes pop out and just about burned the enamel off my front teeth! On the other hand, while the tastes are really unfamiliar, they have some delicious dishes. Further, the Colonel has some cooks who will adjust the spices to the point where we can have much of the 'real taste' without the 'real heat'!" Having found the menu thoroughly confusing, Nels and Kenny accepted his offer with considerable relief.

A waiter appeared with their drinks and a plate of appetizers. At first, they looked at the tall glasses that stood before them with some suspicion. After all, a Bud Light rarely smells of juniper, nor is it commonly poured over ice cubes and garnished with a partially peeled spike of cucumber plus a few mint leaves! They were pleased when Jason said that he agreed that the taste and smell of their 'Juniper Cups' were indeed extremely close to his Pimm's Cup. He would have preferred that they check it out for themselves, but it wasn't worth taking a chance on getting Jon in trouble with the ABC (the State liquor people). While it may have struck them as a little weird, their first impressions were positive, especially when sipped with the appetizers.

Dinner appeared - and what a feast it was! Jason had ordered a pungent lamb curry which was served over a large quantity of excellent Indian Basmati rice. (Ken had asked if beef curry were available. Jason explained that the Hindus were the majority faith in the New Delhi area. It was unlikely that a restaurateur would risk losing much of his business by having any part in killing a sacred cow!" Kenny nodded and chortled, "Right! Sacred animals, especially cows and monkeys!") In addition to the naan (a leavened flat bread traditionally baked in a clay oven), there were items complementing the curry, e.g., a mango chutney (a delicious relish), a side dish of yoghurt and cucumber, and a small Indian salad. Both Ken and Nels decided to order a second 'Juniper Cup', agreeing that it really was "right" with curry. Evidently, Col. Moorhead heard of the boys' decision, for he personally appeared a few minutes later with two "Juniper Cups' - "on the house". Dessert? A truly delicious mango sorbet both cooled and polished things off nicely!

Truly, it was a grand evening, one to be remembered. "Gotta tell my uncle about this place," Ken muttered under his breath as they departed the Delhi with the best wishes of both the Maitre 'D and Colonel Moorhead. Nels just grinned to himself, silently observing that Jason must have taken care of the staff very well indeed...as he usually did! The words of a World War II American general ran through his head: "I will return!"

("From the Foothills to the Bay...")

[Author's Note: If you will, good Reader, adjust your automatic calendar so that it reads some 20 years later than that evening at the Delhi. It's evening in the Santa Cruz Mountains - the range that separates the towns of the San Francisco peninsula from the narrow Pacific coast line to the west. Feeling somewhat like a glass ball rolling around in a marble vault, Nels has escaped from the Sears mansion in Hillsborough. The scene shifts to his comfortable cabin set in a grove of Coast Redwoods. Less than forty minutes away from the mansion set in rolling foothills, it stands in a private, heavily wooded valley in the coastal mountains. He is sharing memories - and a superb Napa Valley Chardonnay - with Dr. Steven Roberts, a former classmate, professional colleague, and a person of singular importance to his life.

Mellowed by the fine wine, Roberts mused...almost dreamily, "I know it was a few years ago, Nels, but do you remember your first contact with Stanford as a student?" "Well Steve," his friend responded, "you know I grew up right here on the Peninsula. As a Stanford student? Hum-m-m-m... Oh, sure! Ken Alison - the red-headed New York City kid who was my roommate during the first two years - stayed with me for a couple of days while we got organized. After a fantastic dinner in the City the night before, we drove down to Stanford the next morning. (Damn! I still can't believe that the Delhi isn't there anymore.) For reasons beyond our full control, both Ken and I had missed all of the filing deadlines for new freshmen. You can guess that there was a lot of paper to sign...and money to pay. Also, the frosh were moving into the dorms that weekend and classes were scheduled to start less than a week later. In short, Jason arranged for the Undergraduate Affairs people to assign an advisor who would help us catch up. When we found the right office on the Quad, the secretary introduced us to Joan Philbrick. I'll tell you, Steve. Neither Ken nor I could have ever predicted how lucky we were." (Pause.) "Yeah," Steve sighed. "A little more of that magnificent Chardonnay, Nels. Keep going, please!"

"Well, you know," Nels continued, "A lot of schools talk about their commitment to students, but we got a real taste of it that day. I mean...the paperwork was ready. Between Ms. Philbrick and her student assistants we were introduced to our dorm director - and even met the Resident Assistant who would be living on our floor. A new senior talked with us about course selection during the first year when Stanford students don't declare their majors. We got a bicycle tour of campus with another student who also gave us a glimpse of swimming facilities in which Ken was interested and the soccer scene in which I hoped to get involved. What a day!"

"That redhead... Wow! He wasn't around when we met, was he?" Steve asked with something of a lecherous note in his voice. "No," Nels answered. "Last year - our sophomore year - he really got into swimming. When the Men's Swimming team won the NCAA championship, he pledged the fraternity where many of team were members. By that time, I had really gotten excited about my studies." A slight grin crossed his face as he added, "I've always been interested in humanoid robotics, you know. That was also the year when an extra credit project in Biology led to my stumbling across a vaccine that protects against malaria about 90 percent of the time. I guess Kenny and I just grew apart. I'll admit that I was pissed when he refused to even ask for an excuse to miss a practice when Jason died suddenly from a massive heart attack. God, I really needed him to go with me to the funeral at the Cathedral. It's a special place for us...built on the ruins of the Crocker mansion destroyed in the earthquake and fire of 1906. People came from all over the world, you know...a good third of those active in the humanoid research wing of bioengineering. At least, you got to meet Professor Ishikawa before he died."

"Oh, a bit more than that, my love," Steve murmured. My father, who had met Jason through financial contacts, asked me to go with him to the funeral. I never told you, but it was there that I spotted you for the very first time. You were - and are - the most beautiful being on whom I have ever set my eyes." He bent down and softly pressed his lips against those of his husband.

(To Be Continued)