The following story is for adults and contains graphic descriptions of sexual contact between adolescent and adult males and the power imbalance of these relationships. Like so many of my stories, this is a voyage and return.

If you are a minor, then it is illegal for you to read this story. If you find the subject objectionable, then read no further. All the characters, events and settings are the product of my overactive imagination. I hope you like it and feel free to respond.

Fourteen runs through five progressions, with frequent interludes. If you would like to comment, contact me at eliot.moore.writer@gmail.com.

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Thanks so much to Philip Marks for his contributions and the background conversations that bring the story onto the page. I also want to add a shout-out to Mischief Night who answered my call for a proofreader. Thanks to those who keep Philip and me updated on your interest.

Anton and Daniel 17

Oranjestad, Aruba

July 20-21, 2018

The other boys are laughing at you Fourteen. They know what you are as you walk with them. You are not their friend. You know they keep you around for the fucks. Patrick Hunter’s voice echoes in Fourteen’s mind as he hunches over the toilet in Cafe Chaos. Shane’s voice message hit him hard. There is this whole thing happening back in Chillicothe that he dreads-ignorant. Conversations and conclusions defining who he is. He hears Shane’s voice struggling with their friendship.

Patrick and John, two certitudes in all this, are dead! Jeremy Gates wished it once. After the first beat down, he sat sullen in the back seat of the men’s rusted-out Bronco wishing John and Patrick dead and gone.

Days later, he simply accepted that the two men were a force of nature like the August storm. Their tempest would roll on unimpeded. Fourteen, like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, was swept into their tornado. The men deposited him unexpectedly, miraculously in toto, into the Emerald City of Levi Fisher’s Luxor Winnebago. Despite that, it always felt like their malevolent maelstrom would continue on.

Cannon apparently killed Hunter. Raised a pistol and shot in the direction of the waiting FBI team, and the FBI returned fire, instantly killing him. It just seemed fitting to Fourteen. “Gonna fuck you hard,” Fourteen murmurs to himself. The sound of his own voice breaks through the white noise in his head and the disengaged randomness resonating from the bar. Fourteen finds his tangerine reassurance in his own familiar voice.

His bike bag with its stash of Anton-treats is missing. Fourteen is hoping it sprang legs and went to chat with some sexy purse at another table. Jeremy Gates, citizen of Antigua and Barbuda is in that bag.

“Looking for this?”

The aloof bartender sets his bag beside his forgotten beer. It might just be a random act of kindness, or it might be because Fourteen left his tab unpaid. “Sorry, I really had to go.”

Fourteen planned to take his time. Immerse himself anonymous in adult-Aruba. He was months with Levi Fisher and his strongest impression was the passages between. Fourteen feels like he never stepped off the Yellow Brick Road. Sailing with Anton and Daniel is far better than driving with Levi and Tuan. Even so, it has been a sprint past so much of the world. It has been an adrenaline-burn away from two men stopped suddenly in their tracks.

Shane’s voice message and the news of John’s and Patrick’s deaths drive Fourteen out of Cafe Chaos. He moves away from the ghastly green that turns his mind to wraiths unaware that death has overtaken them. What would John’s afterlife be anyway? Levi Fisher imagined a reunion. Fourteen moves away quickly, because death seems to cling to him.

Downtown Oranjestad is a pink and white pastiche-celebration of Dutch Renaissance. Bold curving forms rich with ornamentation. Lunettes everywhere, as Daniel Ayers would have pointed out, if he was there. Very Disney World in Fourteen’s imagination. Very alive, the unspoken life force asserts itself in Jeremy Gates’ soul. Something Shane said, beat the odds. The piano dropped beside him, not on top. A boy’s heart lifts when that happens.

At night, the streets are black-light phosphorescent lines and blushes on the ornate shadows. It is a city of light. If the crowds were younger, Fourteen would lose himself happily. It is Anton’s and Daniel’s adult world. What teenagers he can see walk aimlessly, perhaps burning for inclusion, or simply sharing their contempt for the adult swirl-consumerism.

People were saying you just ran away … lotta people are saying … I dunno how you got away from those bastards. Shane comes back to Fourteen on the street, as he came to Fourteen on the shore of Bull Shoals lake. Red double-decker bus, citrus-yellow trolley, definitely not in Kansas anymore, Fourteen reminds himself.

You were too smart for them anyway, you got away. All them other kids … well … died. Shane has to remind him of that as they walk back toward the beach. Citrus-yellow trolley, so like the trolley Sophie Wright shared from San Francisco. Fourteen jumps aboard and, because a woman smiles at his tangerine, he smiles back. Dunno how you got away …  but he did! Jeremy Gates did not share the shootout with Patrick and John. ♪♫♬ “There's gonna be a heartache tonight, ♪♫♬ a heartache tonight, I know. There's gonna be a heartache tonight, I know.” ♪♫♬ The sound of Patrick’s voice fades off to (almost) nothing. Fourteen lets himself listen to the still-alive world.

Oranjestad flickers shadow-neon past as the trolley tourist-takes him back to the beach. If Fourteen had not sailed down the windward coast with its sea-torn rock, Fourteen might well believe this whole island was Dutch-Disney made for play.

The island of Antigua seems more varied. Fourteen cannot be sure. Since La Paz in the Gulf of California, he has Google-Wikipediaed himself into expertise on his island destination. Best foot forward, smile for the camera; some algorithm filters Antigua’s reality for tourists. All these windward islands are PhotoShop-filtered into alluring winter playgrounds. Fourteen fears Antigua will be like Oranjestad. There will be no affordable place for him.

Poverty, this is a useful search term. Poverty and Jeremy Gates' bank account balance results in a flood of concerning entries. Poverty+Antigua online schools Jeremy on his future. The KOA-repetitive Sandals resorts and pretty beach fronts along every port Anton Schroeder has taken him give way to Pearl Island shabby-humble streets.

Antigua is not all pool-accessorized compounds privately policed. Away from the beach views, Antigua is a mango-picker reality check of corrugated shacks perched on mudslides. Life is walk-ups above gated storefronts. Very different, and likely Jeremy Gates’ world when he is beached. This is your after when you step away from Sirocco, turn your back on the cruise-friendly shelter of Anton’s wealth.

Raül, José, and Lacinta might manage that sort of Antigua. Sergio Ochoa from Puerto Vallarta could probably Craigslist his way back to Antigua’s portside glamor. Jeremy Gates wants none of that. Still, Levi Fisher bought his place on Antigua and Barbuda. Was there a way for an underage guy, who cannot go home, to earn his place on Antigua?

He is near the beach when Shane breaks into his thoughts again. I dunno, hope it ain't true Jeremy hope they didn't uh hurt you … I didn't believe it. You woulda talked to me, told me about anything that big. We didn't have no secrets you'd tell me anything wouldn't you? Jeremy does not know what he would say to Shane, not now, maybe ever. Well, call me some time, okay? Shane’s voice (almost) fades like Patrick’s psychotic singing.


♪♫♬ I get a little bit nervous around you, Get a little bit stressed out when I think about you ♪♫♬ Fourteen is almost at beach when his Galaxy begins to ring in his pocket. It is not a good time to talk with Sophie, Anton, or Daniel. He still has his mind on Shane’s message, trying to understand why the thought of explaining his life to his best friend simply exhausts him. When he pulls the Galaxy out, he sees that it is Anton. ♪♫♬ Get a little exci — ♪♫♬

“Yo, Anton,” Fourteen answers. “Just made it to the beach. I was going to call you when I reached Bunker Bar. Was there something you needed me to pick up first. Must be something still open in this 24-7 something, something.”

“Good, I’ll meet you beside the bar. My schedule is a little tight here.” Anton sounds tense.

Fourteen stands at the edge of the surf beside the hexagonal pavilion filled with tourists drinking toward oblivion or finessing their way into a shared hotel bed. Memories or blackouts to carry back to the world, Fourteen muses. Then he laughs. He is just as bad as the teenagers he saw on Oranjestad’s streets envy-green at the patrons at Cafe Chaos. He likes this island, so alive with money and celebration.

Anton kills the outboard motor just before he runs the tender right up on the meticulously groomed sand. Fourteen has to take a step back. Like Washington crossing the Delaware, Anton is at the Zodiac’s bow before it hits the beach. Fourteen’s skipper tosses a travel bag Fourteen’s way and makes an Orlando-Bloom-elf exit from his tender.

“You and Jagger spending the night on shore?” Fourteen asks with little enthusiasm.

“I told Jagger to phone you when he comes back to the beach. No, I’m not spending the night on the beach. I’ve got a connection to Charlotte to catch. I’m going to talk Daniel into coming back.”

“Woot!” Fourteen drops Anton’s travel bag and offers a high five. Anton ignores this, so Fourteen flings himself at the man and gives him a bear hug that lifts Anton off the beach.

“Okay, okay, don’t get carried away. I’m just talking to him.” Anton needs the welcome surge of confidence injected by the teen’s enthusiasm. A little Romeo and Juliet could help, Anton admits. He plans to climb Daniel’s balcony, as it were. That all ended so well, he cautions himself. “So, listen carefully.”

That was the master of Sirocco’s voice. Fourteen steps back and stands alert. He suddenly realizes that Anton is abandoning him, for what, five days? “I know! No moving the ketch, no boys on board, no gun play.”

“Yes to moving the ketch, no to the rest.” Anton makes this cold. My god, I’m leaving Sirocco in the hands of this scatterbrained boy! “You’re sober, listening carefully?” Fourteen is sober. Anton can see this. Fourteen has never been as flighty as Anton at fifteen. He is a good kid, Anton reassures himself. “I made some calls (spent money) and you can reprovision at Renaissance Marina while I’m gone. I left the course, I know you could work it out anyway. They have our needs, but there is a checklist on the chart table.”

“I’ll take care of your boat.”

“I know you will. Take her over in the morning. I’ll meet you there.”

“Daniel and you will meet me there.” Fourteen grins.

“Perhaps,” Anton replies with reservations. “You have no idea! It is a clapboard family with red shutters on their clapboard attitudes. Real Indiana shutters that could snap closed on me.”

Fourteen has seen pictures of the rambling Ayers house. It looks like three homes stitched together. It is more like the Gates home than Anton realizes. “Nothing stops you, Anton.” Fourteen tries to reassure the man. He wants this growing up for Anton.

Anton appreciates the teen’s confidence. “Blowjob for good luck?”

Fourteen throws a look toward the busy bar perched on the beach. “It’ll have to be a kiss.”

“Needs must,” Anton concedes.

They share a bruising kiss because Fourteen is that excited by the prospect of a reconciliation. “Throw yourself at the man!”

“Isn’t that what we always do?”

“Fearless! Oh, and listen to Daniel, maybe grovel.”

Anton can see that Fourteen’s tender-optimistic heart needs this as much as Anton does. It is not like Beckett Calibaba. Daniel has not left him for another man. The bar noise intrudes. “None of that lot on Sirocco,” Anton warns again. Time is passing and he needs to check in for his flight.

“Not even red shirt with a ball cap?” The young man looks like Fourteen’s older brother (if he had one).

“Oh well, a quick one on the beach, his hotel room, then back to Sirocco alone.” Anton concedes. “Jagger will be back soon enough.”

“Beckett,” Fourteen dismisses Anton’s interloper.

“Not really,” Anton replies. He gathers himself, ready to push forward. “You have the helm, behave.”

“I have the helm,” Fourteen agrees soberly. “Get going, Anton. Bring him back.”


Palm Beach, Aruba

July 23, 2018

Palms, yes, and ubiquitous grass-roofed huts like Bunker Bar or Tyrone Casey’s rental in Puerto Vallarta. It is still the pristine-primary Disney World daycare spreading everywhere Fourteen has sailed. The floats and boats are scattered brightly on the clean-ready sand, shiny toys waiting to be picked up by the clean-ready tourists Fourteen had rubbed shoulders with the night he read Shane’s voice mail. He imagines tourists sleeping off their assignations and gambles in the low-rise, honeycomb hotels just past the palms.

My god, what a beach! The ketch is anchored just out of reach of the hotel’s roped-in beach. Catamarans and monohulls like Anton’s Sirocco lie together on the shallow shelf. Fourteen could run the tender up onto the sand beside Pelican Pier, explore Aruba from this latest anchorage. It is so early that the beach is almost empty. A person could live like this, if they had the time and money, if they had a job.

Jagger Hearne is still a problem-not-a-problem somewhere wrathful about the island. Fourteen moved Sirocco to keep it safe from Jagger’s forcing his way back on board. Here off Palm Beach, Sirocco is one sleek-white fish in the swirling school. Fourteen wonders how distinguishable Anton’s ketch is to Jagger’s unpracticed eye. The fear of discovery keeps him a prisoner on the water.

Fourteen spent the night Anton left worrying about the inconvenient presence on Anton’s ketch. Never a shipmate, he reasoned. It had been a long night. Anton’s distraction was not back soon enough. Something distracted Jagger through the night and he did not phone Fourteen until a frustrating 10:35 the next morning. By that time, Fourteen had run through Anton’s basic offshore checklist, made himself breakfast, and phoned first Anton, Yes, I am still on the ground in Charlotte for Dorthy’s sake, and Daniel, We’ll see. Fourteen did not have Jagger’s number — but then again Fourteen thought he did.

Gj, I really need to sleep!” Jagger declaimed when they met on the beach beside the quiet bar.

“Ship, shipmates, self,” Fourteen replied. It was the mantra Anton taught him when they left San Diego.

After Fourteen nosed his way carefully into the Renaissance Marina, he kept Jagger busy with the water and the fuel. Then Sirocco settled into the provided berth amongst the rest. He let the young man sleep off his night’s adventure in Anton’s stateroom. He made a shopping list and left the boat.

Jagger was gone when Fourteen lugged the fresh stores back up the dock to Sirocco’s gangplank. That suited Fourteen’s mood. Ship, shipmates, self, Fourteen reminded himself. Six trips back and forth from the street to the galley, everything stowed in fifteen different spots. $38US spent to do three bags of laundry and no help from Jagger. The Aruba marina had the ketch ready for the run to Curaçao. The ship was taken care of.

The pesky line handler came on board in Panama City with a gym bag meant for three day’s travel. Jagger kept his things together just beside the pilot berth. Anton always kept cash on hand, Bakshish, Anton called it. Some of it was the thousand Anton left for Fourteen’s use over the two-week stay in Panama City. It was where it should be in the stateroom desk drawer.

Fourteen counted out a thousand. He looked at the fan of crisp bills. Anton would be generous. It usually fell to Daniel Ayers to show such generosity. A phone, swimming gear, spending money on the beach, Daniel saw to Fourteen’s needs, but the money came from Anton’s pocket. Fourteen hesitated over the decision. Sophie Wright sent Fourteen to Sirocco with her old rain gear, otherwise, Anton had cared for him since San Diego. Fourteen added ten more bills to his pile. He left the money and the gym bag in the lazaret beside the shotgun.

“Glad you're finally back,” he told Jagger. Stay cool! But Fourteen’s heart was pounding. “Marina wants to move us to another berth. Stay on the dock a sec.”

Fourteen started Sirocco’s diesel and told Jagger to loose the line on the stern. “Go do the bow. You need to be quick about it because it is going to start drifting away from the dock.”

“Shit, white men can’t jump.” Jagger eyed the distance.

“I’ve got the bow thruster down, no worries. I can keep it close enough,” Fourteen assured the young man.

Jagger reached for the bow line and started to untie it. Fourteen released the end running to the cockpit and nudged the bow away from the dock with the bow thruster. The loose line slid away to the bow smoothly. Waste of good rope, he thought regretfully.

“It’s too wide,” Jagger complained. He started hauling on the line to bring the boat back to the dock, but it simply kept running from the bow. It took him two fathoms before he realized it was not attached to the front of the sailboat. “Ha, ha, very funny kid. I’m not going in the drink. Bring it back. I know, I know, you’re angry because I bailed on you and didn’t help you with the boat. What was that you told me? Ship, mates, self. I get the message.”

Sirocco drifted farther from the dock. Fourteen checked the starboard side. The slip beside the ketch was empty.

“You know I’m going to just walk over to wherever you are driving this thing. Guess that serves me right, ya think?” Jagger could take a ribbing. The women he had spent his day with were worth the snit it caused with Fourteen. Jagger laughed. “I’ll go to bed without my supper, how is that?”

Fourteen pulled the gym bag out and threw it over to Jagger, “Here you go.”

“What’s this?”

“You’re beached.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you’re getting off here. There are two thousand dollars in the bag for your flight home. That’s what Anton promised you.”

The teenager on the boat was standing at the helm with one hand on the throttle. Jagger was puzzled by this turn of events. “I want to talk to Anton.”

“Your business.” The infuriating kid shrugged. Jagger could not believe he was as assured as he wanted to seem.

“You can’t keep me off. As soon as you park that thing, I’m going back on board.” Jagger was less certain of that. The stupid boy could take the sailboat anywhere he wanted. “Oh, so you’re not staying, are you?” Jagger eyed the distance between the dock and drifting sailboat. He could not jump it, but there was nothing to stop him swimming to the back and pulling himself on board. Nothing but the kid’s hand on the boat’s throttle.

“It doesn’t make sense, Fourteen. Shit, what’s your name, Jeremy?” Jagger folded his arms across his chest. “I asked you if you were cool with me. You said you were. So what is the problem with you?”

“Daniel is coming back, so you are gone,” Fourteen answered. He should have just left. This conversation was pointless. “They are partners.”

“So you want. What right do you have to kick me off the boat?”

“I’m first mate, it’s my job,” Fourteen tried.

“First mate,” what a joke! “You’re what, fifteen, am I right? You’re not even demi-boss, Jerry, have you ever even had a job?”

“This is a job,” Fourteen replied, mustering his dignity.

“This isn’t a job. I don’t know what it is.” Jagger could not understand why this kid was blocking his good thing.

“I’m responsible.”

“A job, Jerry,” Jagger tried to reason with the boy. “Do you even know what it is like to worry about paying the bills, worry about next month?” Jagger shook his head. “Anton is taking care of you. You think I’m trying to use him or something? It is all a transaction, you selfish little brat! And you are going to judge me? You can’t keep me off that boat. You can’t keep me from talking to Anton.”

“Anton is gone. You go back to where you belong.”

Jagger pulled his phone out. “What if you are wrong, you little faggot? What if Anton wanted me to stay?”

“Then I get beached. Daniel and Anton are together, and I get beached. Hasta la vista, baby.” Fourteen wanted to gun the motor, but he was conning a quarter of a million dollars’ worth of Anton’s pride and joy. Nothing dignified about slamming Sirocco into some dude’s million-dollar dream. The ketch pulled away cautiously and the bow thruster let him turn the ketch on a dime.

Off Palm Beach, in the morning, Fourteen thinks about what he did to Jagger Hearne. Seriously cockblocked that bastard, Fourteen admits. Not the talking-circle outcome Ms. Clement would approve. He worries about Anton’s reaction when he finds out what Fourteen has done. More troubling, Fourteen worries that he has been selfish, as Jagger accused.

Jagger scored a hit. How different was Fourteen than Jagger? Fourteen sleeps with Anton (and Daniel), and has a free ride to Antigua. If Fourteen went full-on Beckett Calibaba on Anton, the man would give him things. He has wormed his way into Anton’s plans and all he has to do is enjoy the passage to Antigua.

“Ship, shipmates, and self,” Fourteen reminds himself. He has kept his watch on Anton’s ketch, and now he has watched his mates’ backs. If he helped himself, he did it last. Whoever helped Jeremy Gates? Fourteen asks himself. Since August, the list is small and help is never certain.

Good on you, Sophie would tell Fourteen. She would agree with him. Jagger had to go. Fourteen waves at a young woman solo-sailing like Mary Rule. They chatted when he dropped anchor near her. She wants to explore the windward shore and invites him along. Fourteen needs the company.

♪♫♬ I get a little bit nervous around you, Get a little bit stressed out when I think about you ♪♫♬ Get a little excited ♪♫♬ Baby, when I think about you, yeah ♪♫♬ It might be Jagger calling once again. He is persistent and Fourteen made the mistake of arguing with the man for half an hour. The phone in his pocket keeps ringing out the tranquility of Fourteen’s Aruba morning. He waits for it to stop, then finally pulls the Galaxy out. Fourteen takes a look at the face of his phone, Anton. ♪♫♬ Baby — ♪♫♬ 

“Hey, hey, is everything alright?” Fourteen asks.

“Well I survived Lafayette,” Anton replies. “We will land in Aruba on Tuesday.”

“So good!” Fourteen’s heart rises like a weather balloon expanding as it goes.

“Jagger is not happy,” Anton advises.

“Jagger is not happy,” Fourteen agrees sheepishly. He is going to have to push some serious tangerine through the phone. “So, it’s like this,” he begins.


Lafayette, Indiana

July 23, 2018

The clapboard with its red shutters faces the pond to Anton Schroeder’s right as he drives slowly down the street. It was winter when he saw it last.

Anton turns the corner and parks beside the pond. He scans the windows of the Ayers’ home from across the street to give himself a minute more. His hands are clammy, so he wipes them on his thighs and draws two deep breaths. Feeling like a drink would help, Anton steps out onto the street.

Daniel is there in the doorway before Anton can take a step. Anton does not know how to read this. There is little to learn in Daniel’s expression as he approaches. He wouldn’t make me come all this way simply to send me back. It’s not a conversation for his family, Anton assures himself.

Anton Schroeder is not a comfortable fit in middle-American Lafayette, Indiana. Different backgrounds are only part of it. He knows he is a posterboy for trust fund privilege. 1 OAK in Manhattan, Daniel mentioned it to his married sister Chantelle because Taylor Swift was there the night Anton paid $1,500 for a table. Anton worked (off and on) yet in the Ayers’ eyes he wasn’t bona fide, that delicious phrase from Clooney’s movie. But are you bona fide? You have to be bona fide, something like that, Anton recalls.

Daniel Sr. and Tracy Ayers thought Anton frivolous and uncomfortably comfortable with his sexuality. Their Daniel ought to find someone like himself, someone younger, someone who could pass.

He waits beside his rental car. Despite their reassuring messages and the pester-matchmaking of their teenage Cupid-Puck, Anton is not convinced Daniel wanted him to come. The hurt he did was deep. Trust has been lost.

“My god man, you're in a Cruze!”

“They offered me an Altima. I thought a domestic would please them more.” Just the opening exchange was so reassuring to Anton.

“Slumming it.”

Anton does not think Daniel is being hurtful. The tone is quite neutral. It is more of their accustomed banter.

“Come walk with me.”

The park past Daniel blends shady into private yards. Remy and Greyson Gates would think these Indiana lots expansive. They take the turn in silence, Anton’s eyes on the crackle-blacktop of the street. Daniel grew up here amidst the orange tiger lilies and ornamental grasses. Green lawns to run across, bike-safe roads where a mother could push a stroller right down the middle of the street; Daniel’s sense of place.

They are both bleeding, so there is little point in asking after each other. Daniel is walking through his childhood before and what his mom and dad think should be his after. Oh, nothing quite so family-oriented. No expectation that their eldest son would settle into suburbia like Chantelle with her two children. Anton could mock anything (everything), but he never mocks Daniel’s world. Daniel wants to hold Anton’s hand.

“I want to make things right,” Anton breaks the silence between them.

“I know you do. I told you not to.” The Taylors’ backyard is an arboretum lovingly hedged in with variegated ground cover. The ranch style houses hardly do the landscape justice. Daniel looks at Anton to verify he has kept his word. His partner looks so sober. “Don’t be like this.”

“Like what?”

“So solemn. It is not what drew me to you.”

“Ah! Me the gadfly.”

“My queen of diamonds, yes I know that,” Daniel smiles. “No, not that, I mean your joy and your humor. The fucking snoob, tell me about him.”

“Fucking snoob?” Anton asks.

“Snobby, stupid gamer, Fourteen’s nickname for Jagger.”

“Not much of a story, just drowning my misery in moonshine.” Anton waves the utter insignificance of Jagger Daniel’s way.

“When you had a well-aged fifteen to savor?”

“Something I’d rather decant with you. Sometimes the pairing is important.” Anton smiles. “The snoob?” Daniel nods to say he gets this right, “He was a caricature of what I want. Cheeky boy paid him off without my leave, and of course, he moved my boat again. Faithless, faithless!” Rather faithful, actually, Anton revises. “Well, at least there was no gun play this time. Mind you, the stateroom sheets will need a cleaning, I imagine. The whole boat needs to be hosed down, I imagine.”

See, that is what I love.”

“Love?”

This stops the thread of conversation. At the bend in the road, they stop and turn around. The white clapboard of a childhood friend is up for sale. Daniel knows, you step away to live your life and things will change. Someone will dismantle the tree fort that they built high in an oak. “I should move back to Chicago. It’s better if I’m there. Better for everyone.”

Daniel’s little brother Joel, a senior, no big deal, he and some new guy just hooked up. “You’re gay like Daniel?” their mother asked. “Whatever, does it matter?” Joel has girls. Daniel gets the look his parents try hard not to give him. It matters. Daniel’s parents are generationally comfortable and liberally accepting of simple binaries. It is very difficult for them to negotiate the bewildering new alphabet of today’s identities. Joel is bisexual or curious. It is an evolution for his brother and Daniel and Joel understand it doesn't matter anymore. Still, Daniel gets a little grief.

“I can help you find a place.”

“I can find my own place,” just an edge to that.

“I know you can.”

They stop walking just before the debris-choked weir with its odd overlook of the pond. “There are some new possibilities,” Daniel warns Anton. He is considering returning to Sirocco, but it will be on his terms. “They went well.”

“Of course they would! Don’t tell me anything. The temptation would be too great.”

Daniel gives Anton a long look. Anton will not sabotage him again. The fear is that he will put in a good word; try to put his thumb on the scale again. “If it works out.”

“It will. I understand.” Anton surrenders to the end of dreams. His sailing dream will give way to Daniel’s independence and architecture, or he loses Daniel. “I could get a place near you.”

“We could live together.”

“Even better!” The relief cannot be hid. “When will you know?”

“I’ll know when I know,” Daniel replies, “we talked, that’s all.”

They walk the remainder of the way before they speak again. Daniel looks at his family home. “It’s better if I leave,” he tells Anton. His parents are good about these things. “Still, with me, and now my brother Joel turning all fluid on them, it pushes mom and dad a bit too far.”

“Well, orange is the new black; a thrill's a thrill,” Anton shrugs. He is used to pushback. He would not be Anton if he could not be in your face about it.

“A little too much orange for this year’s Indiana Halloween.” Daniel shrugs in turn. “Next week, hell, tomorrow, Joel will introduce some girl and everything will be fine.”

“Does the poor boy need a break, some stress relief?” Anton smirks. Just being with Daniel is a relief. “Oh dear, imagine Joel bunking with Fourteen. My second sailing student! What would your little brother think of Fourteen? That is, if coming back is what you decide,” Anton adds quickly.

“Joel is all over the place about it. I’m not sure he is ready for Fourteen.” Daniel laughs at the idea. “You’re shameless, Anton.”

There is a peep from behind the bay window curtains. Anton dares a wave. “What now?” he asks, because they are back at Anton’s rental.

“I’m coming back with you. My bag is by the door,” Daniel sobers up. “If I hear anything.”

“I understand.”


St. Vincent and the Grenadines

August 1 to 11, 2018

Zachary Jain loved the Leeward Islands. He was not sure why he was intent on leaving them. Perhaps it was because when one dream ends, another must take its place. Over forty-six years, he had learned it was pointless to cling to a fading dream. You simply had to make the first determined step. That first hard step would lead you to the next.

Jennifer and children had never been Zachary’s dream. Working in City Planning for twenty years while Jennifer earned twice his salary with the Department of Defense; Zachary was not sure what he dreamed of, but it was not that. It had been five years since he separated from Jennifer in Jacksonville, North Carolina. The dream that finally came to him was good.

The world breaks everyone and afterwards many are strong at the broken places, Hemingway said that. Zachary could get behind that thought. Working on the multimodal transportation center with Ashley in City Planning crystallized things for Zachary. He realized he was living Kafka when he should be living like Hemingway. Go home each night to domesticity, going to the gym, then avoid going home to sleep with Ashley, then walk the waterfront eying sailboats; he could not stand to think that his life was going so fast and that he was not really living it. When you stop doing things for fun you might as well be dead. He realized he had lost something essential in himself: freedom.

Zachary shared his reasons with Anton Schroeder in a confidence he thought better said away from Daniel Ayers and the boy. Anton had told him of his recent troubles with Daniel. How to put it? Attractive people struggle to maintain successful, long-term relationships. “In a sense,” Zachary explained, “having too many other choices is likely not beneficial for relationship longevity.

“Traded Jennifer in on a younger model,” Zachary shrugged unapologetically at Anton. “Less mileage and lower maintenance, although as for that, it turns out that’s not true at all.”

“Sometimes the newer models have more mileage and need more maintenance,” Anton supplied.

“Exactly. There are reasons to be single,” Zachary observed, oblivious to Anton’s Herculean effort to overcome his own commitment fears. “Singles are more self-sufficient. We are better with money.” That was certainly true of being with Ashley.

“Gives you space to think, less stressful,” Anton played along. It was not said with conviction, and Zachary recalled deciding Anton did not actually believe that. “Sailing gives you space to think.” The men could agree on that.

The gathering was dull, perhaps because there were all partners and Ashley had just left him, perhaps because the Leeward Island dream turned sour and Zachary no longer felt pleasure in tourist gossip-gushing over St. Vincent and the Grenadines. It had always been like a coffee break at the city planning office, trading tips for dream vacations. Zachary watched another perfect sunset from the balcony, then left his latest sailing companions to their honeymoon groping.

Zachary Jain’s footsteps take him to the road along the beach. The local youth have gathered there from sea and shore to watch the sunset. He thinks of the men and women up the hill. They cannot give it their all like these young nymphs and satyrs. Everyone his age knows their own strength and manages it with the care of a marathon runner. The small crowd on the beach are spendthrifts in a now that needs no after. The young people sprint their lives with heart beating-breaking abandon. It is a thing to envy when you are forty-six.

The boy is there among the rest. Probably three sheets to the wind, Zachary imagines. He envies the fifteen-year-old’s essence of freedom. Something tangible infects the people around him. Zachary recognized this when the two sailboats met and he can see this in the court and spark on the sand. For all the handsome teen’s efforts to blend in, he will be noticed by the boys and girls about him. Anton Schroeder clearly sees himself in the boy, and so does Zachary Jain. We peak too soon, like an unexpected orgasm. Anton might still deny that, but Zachary accepts this with a grudging nod.

Fourteen just spends himself. Dervish motion, as if he is dancing to the music of his life. He pauses to listen to his companions. He gifts kisses to the girls like hugs, and the boy must know they want to eat him alive in turns. Not so drunk that Fourteen will not approach the boys cautiously. He uses distance to protect himself, Zachary realizes. Fourteen breaks away from the group to wet his bare feet in the water. A trio of boys come down to join him, because of course they would. They talk and point to sailboats and cruisers on the bay before them.

Zachary is well aware of why he stands there watching.  Like most boys, his own experience with men was in his teens. It was primal, like varsity wrestling or running with the bulls in Pamplona. University was a smorgasbord of fluid adventures. The men were fuck-buddies, or at least Zachary treated them that way. Women attracted him more. Jennifer was smoking before Finn, Santana, and fifteen years of living melted her. As Zachary aged himself, he naturally turned to younger partners like Ashley. He never really questioned that. It was just his nature.

Fourteen is the epitome of twink. Anton might flatter comparisons. Zachary can see the attraction of Anton when the effervescent man’s before was taciturn Daniel’s age. The gay couple are open invitations. Zachary has no urge to hook up with strong, masculine men like Daniel. Neither does he want the aging Anton. The teenager in their company, another matter. Zachary does not see himself as a boy lover; but then, Fourteen is boy-not-boy. Something aged him. Live-aboard life, for shiftless-rootless youth like Fourteen is just couch-body surfing. Zachary thinks twinks are like young women. Teenagers like Fourteen have the athletic androgynous allure he likes in either gender.

Fourteen breaks from the party with his three accidental companions. They walk along the margin kicking waves before them. Fourteen jostles each in turn and leans into the return. It is feeling the steak where sight and smell fails. This is Braille. Only so much can be gleaned from sight and sound. Sometimes you have to feel the centuries of attraction.

It was this way with Ashley in Jacksonville. The shoulder-touch as Zachary praised her for some trivia. It was this way with Jennifer when her touch became perfunctory-performance like a goodnight peck. Zachary likes to think that is not what finally happened with Ashley. His girlfriend never shared his dream and the family compromises were too much. Ashley did not handle second-mothering very well.

The four boys end up on the street in a first parting. Fourteen continues along the path back to where the pair of sailboats lie companionably near each other. Zachary starts after Fourteen and his final companion. Shoulder brushing; on the dark path, it is hard to catch the play of hands that might be brushing at narrow hips. He does not want to intrude. The conversation comes to him on a shore breeze in raised words and a nod or cock of head.

Fourteen’s companion likes to pause. It is not his path home. The pauses keep them in the now of mutual interest. Zachary has studied Fourteen for three days, sailed in and out of a day with him as crew to ease the third-wheel tension on Sirocco. The youth has an athlete’s poise as he crosses Serendipity’s deck. Zachary’s Bavaria 47 is unfamiliar to Fourteen. From what Zachary has learned, the youth has only been on sailboats for six months.

The poise is there on the path. Fourteen reaches out a hand and as Zachary watches, Fourteen tries a kiss. “Nah man! Pelt yuh rass!” The island boy pushes Fourteen away, but there is little malice in it.

Fourteen holds his palms out and steps back as if to fend off violence. He ends with his arms crossed. Zachary would love to see his face. It might be the sheepish smirk he gives when he slipped up. It might be the Cheshire Cat Zachary has caught when Anton Schroeder flirts with him.

Waah gwaan? Dat gay stuff nuh business me.” Fourteen’s companion laughs to take rejection’s sting off. There is a friendly punch to Fourteen’s shoulder.

“Okay, no harm no foul,” Fourteen’s voice is loud enough to understand. “Take it easy, John.” With that, Fourteen starts along the trail to where the tenders wait.

Pssst, weh par yuh gine? — where are you going?” John repeats.

“I’m going to bed!”

Seen … walk good Jeremy.” John laughs. The American boy’s pass is going to be a good story back at the beach party. “Nuh badda me you like to bugger.”

Zachary continues on once the two teens have parted. “Ah hoo dat?” John asks as they approach each other.

Yuh dun know,” Zachary Jain replies. He is often enough on this island to have become a familiar face. The money flows in from the moored boats and across the island’s palms. Zachary picks up the pace.

They have anchored fairly far from the town. The narrow path in daylight is hemmed in on one side by the jungle slope and the other breaks into glimpses of the ocean between heavy stands of trees and undergrowth. The full moon has just begun to wane. The path brightens where the canopy breaks. Zachary’s boat shoes hardly make a sound.

“Who’s there?”

The question is a stone cold, quarrelsome challenge. It makes Zachary falter. “Just me,” he answers.

Fourteen has turned in the middle of the path. It is not until Zachary catches up to him that he notices the wicked length of steel with its rough bone handle. “Hey Mr. Jain.” The greeting comes out in a tempered tenor. “I figured you would be much later.”

“Not interested in that much. Yourself?” They fall in beside each other and continue to the tenders on the beach.

“Enough rum, wasn’t feeling it.”

“Saw you crash and burn. That was painful to watch.” Zachary’s words give Fourteen his first nudge. Puck flashes the strike-out grin and shrugs his broadening shoulders.

“You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take,” Fourteen explains.

“You play basketball?”

“Not really. Some old hockey player said that.” Fourteen shrugs. “I hear so many different voices now,” the youth adds unexpectedly. “I mean languages. Waah gwaan? What does that even mean? Man, Chillicothe’s not this!”

“Welcome to the wide world.”

They walk on, Fourteen mostly listening to Zachary talk about the multicultural mix of the Caribbean. Fourteen was drawn to Zachary’s strength and self-assurance from the first glimpse.

St. Vincent and the Grenadines is a necklace of thirty-two tropical islands and cays, realizing Fourteen’s before expectations of the Caribbean. Only nine of them are inhabited. For two days, the handsome man has steered them from one uncrowded anchorage to another. It is the work he does. Fourteen can imagine doing this, if only he had a cruiser like Zachary Jain’s.

Fourteen says little about himself. Admittedly, Anton sucks the oxygen from a room with his storytelling. Zachary can see the gay man physically put the brakes on each opening to flirt with Zachary. Fourteen snorkeled Tobago Cays with Zachary for an afternoon while the other men talked together.

Zachary recalls the moment when the youth first started to tug at his libido. They swam lately together. Zachary dived down to the bottom littered with conch shells fragmenting into sand. He was drawn to a blue vase of coral beside a candelabra. The water filtered blues to brown and the fish seemed to blend in sensibly. It might have been Zachary swimming with Ashley, or his son Finn. Zachary rolled to look up at his companion on the surface.

Fourteen was suspended nearly motionless on the surface. He must have been absorbing Zachary’s form as he swam below. Looking up, Zachary had the impression of graceful limbs surrounded by a corona of shifting water. Fourteen’s masked face and half-nakedness was framed in a turbulence of quicksilver. Zachary wondered what it would be like to possess that.

On the beach, where both boats had left their Zodiacs, Zachary puts a possessive hand on Fourteen’s arm. He squeezes the muscles slightly, sharing his intent. “Anton and Daniel will be quite a while. They may even stay ashore until tomorrow. Come back to Serendipity with me.”

Fourteen is suspended in some private considerations. “The shortest answer is doing a thing.” Zachary advises the youth. Zachary shifts his palm to the youth’s neck and brings the soft, sardonic lips to his mouth. Fourteen does not melt surrender against his body. For all Zachary Jain’s alpha dog, brook-no-argument in bed, the experienced man welcomes the sharp claws piercing the tips of the fingers on his chest. Ashley was like this too. It was what Zachary liked.

There is nothing coquettish about the glances Fourteen throws his way as the tender takes them to Zachary’s boat. The young crew member reminds Zachary of his wrestling opponents pacing the edge of the ring before a match. Zachary turns his attention to his sailboat.

Zachary Jain used his share of the divorce settlement to finance Serendipity for $130,000. She was only nine years old. Forty-seven feet to Anton’s fifty-two, twice Serendipity’s age. The Bavaria 47 was better than the Super Maramu 2000. Not just measuring cocks here, Zachary tells himself. Anton Schroeder mentioned his sailing-school plans the first day they met. Sirocco would not be handy for that. Anton’s boat only has two private berths. Serendipity has four private cabins squished into her.

Fourteen can chatter. He is a verbal-diarrhea stream of consciousness about the now of the Grenadines and intricacies of sailing. Like every charter tourist, the teenager Instagrams the now for the after-evidence. Everyone does. Zachary has caught the photogenic youth in multiple moments. It is a four-years’ habit. Serendipity Travel needs glowing young men on its website, not just the usual middle-age families. Sail with us and you can see this amidst the islands!

Fourteen does not chatter virgin-bride nervous as the Zodiac skips closer to the sloop. Neither does he slouch adolescent arrogance the way Zachary might at that age. He is such a curiosity.

Fourteen decides the second kiss in the stateroom V-berth Zachary always uses when he is not running a charter. Serendipity is his home most of the year, something Ashley came to hate. It will be Zachary’s home for the foreseeable future, now that he has made his decision to sail to the Azores. The second kiss was just to shut Zachary up.

Fourteen does not mind being pressed back against stowage. His shirt comes free first, but this will be a tit for tat. He almost rips Zachary’s shirt open, no demure disrobing between them. The man’s carefully curated torso lives beneath his sheathed claws. Bear paws hug his hips and the back of his thighs. The tugging at his waist begins.

A Rubicon is crossed in the Bavaria’s stateroom where consciousness gives way to sensation. Fourteen’s smooth youth and heat overwhelm comparisons. The teen’s hard cock sniffling at Zachary’s firm muscles demands less attention than the universal allure of a firm, reactive buttock that invites fingers and hard cock to penetrate.

An automatic reach for Fourteen’s crotch meets hard flesh; clit-presence and swollen mons of Fourteen’s tightened scrotum. Zachary’s massage earns him a nipple twist reward. You’d like to cuff the kid for his cheek.

A man expects to be worshipped. I am that I am, and I’ll have no other gods before me! A final corkscrew twist of the teenager’s cock and Zachary wants the hunger on his cock. He wants Fourteen on his knees. This is the beginning.

Fourteen pushes the man back onto the generous bed. He straddles one bent thigh with his knee on the mattress. Instead of going down on the magnificent man, he begins a slow and insolent masturbation. Fourteen’s body proclaims, See this cock? The long string of saliva I can waste on you? He does not even touch himself.

Magic fingers, the partners contemplate each other as Fourteen’s hand does what his eyes have promised since the chrome-glitter of their dolphin dance together. Zachary’s eyes suddenly flash, suck my cock, and Fourteen slithers around for a swallow.

Zachary pushes him away and rolls to where he keeps his condoms handy. He needs to fuck this kid. Fourteen punishes him for the rejection. He takes the condom and while he rips the package free, he rides Zachary so their cocks can kiss. Safely sheathed, Fourteen rides Zachary. He makes familiar gestures Ashley liked. Sitting on Zachary’s member, buried to the hilt, he strokes from Zachary’s root right up to his own navel. Your cock comes to here, the teenager seems to say. But it is not Ashley’s silken belly Fourteen’s finger traces. It is his thick member jutting proudly toward Zachary’s chest.

“You don’t say much, do you?” Zachary asks. Fourteen has him in his grip. He is still milking Zachary to an orgasm.

“Words fail me.”

Words before Levi Fisher flayed his soul. Levi never really talked to him, or if he did, the three-way conversation was a sad confusion. After, words were lies or threats. Fourteen leaves words to Daniel and Anton. He listens to his friends from a safe emotional distance. He prefers the silent conversations he has with Anton and the honest sounds of two bodies coupling to completion.

“I’m going to fuck you hard,” Fourteen adds. An honest statement of intent, the only one Jeremy Gates respects until soft tenderness comes his way.

“Oh fuck, you’re so hot, so good,” Zachary confesses.

“I know.”


Fourteen and Zachary Jain hike together the next day to Trinity Falls. The intimacy of their changed relationship is a discourse across lava-flow trails between bamboo forests and over bamboo bridges spanning inviting streams lined with voluptuous boulders. When they reach the slender falls, Fourteen recalls the volcano hike with Daniel. The disappointing stream falls into a chaotic haze as it reaches the pond below. It slips down between tree tendrils making an emphatic statement about height.

Zachary Jain has seen the falls many times. He would rather watch his young companion. Fourteen is of an age where he will step from stone to stone without hesitation or incident. Each step is confident. A foot will rise and fall without a downward glance. Beauty in the bush, Zachary admires. Not many teenagers in the four years he has tried his hand at sailing cruises. The ones that cross his path are usually quite unpleasant. Zachary can charm the girls. The young men behave as if these expensive holidays are an imposition, or they attempt braggadocio to impress him. Fourteen is such a pleasure.

His innocence is so apparent to Zachary. Not too naive, the knife on the path was a warning that the teenager has guts. He asked Anton about the boy, knowing too well why youth his age ended up as live-aboard crew wandering from port to port. Anton’s usual frivolity evaporated, “Nothing to concern you. He is what he is, thank god for that.”

In the sleepy night, Fourteen gets to top. Some drunken night as an undergraduate, that was the last time Zachary let a man enter him. Zachary bests him in return with a violence Fourteen soaks in with an animal intensity usually reserved for boxing matches. There were two groups at Trinity Falls, or Zachary might have tried the teenager under the cascading water.

Daniel and Anton meet them back in town for lunch with new acquaintances. Anton could sniff out a fresh fuck better than a bloodhound. He is delighted by the thought of Fourteen with the strapping man. Anton scratches the side of his nose with a finger. Fourteen flips him the bird and steals a sip from his cocktail. Fourteen appreciates the obvious thaw in their relationship.

Aruba to Barbados was strained. Fourteen’s initial optimism was crushed by Daniel Ayers’ decision to take the V-berth for himself. Fourteen lay in no-man's-land back on the pilot berth. By Barbados, Fourteen felt like he was everyman’s land. This time, he was Barry Gordon in the tent and Daniel Ayers took his revenge fucks. Anton Levi-Fishered it out with uncharacteristic patience. By St. Vincent, things were better.


Fourteen sails south on Serendipity, switching sailboats for the day and finding himself in Zachary’s berth and arms a second night.

Zachary sends a signal Fourteen’s way and they leave Daniel and Anton to their privacy. Fourteen goes for Zachary’s sake. He knows it matters not at all to Anton. The partners will retreat to Sirocco’s stateroom and it would please Anton to think of Zachary and Fourteen together in the salon. Anton is generous that way.

Always do sober what you did drunk. That will teach you if you were a fool or not,” Zachary tells Fourteen that night.

“I’m not drunk now. I wasn’t drunk the first time.”

Chatham Bay is a perfect spot for stargazing. There are only a few beach bars there, so it is very dark. Zachary likes Fourteen stretched naked on the cabin roof. He traces curves almost possessively. Fourteen lies stargazing. The tablet in his hand is open to the Night Sky app. Screenlight washes his heavenly body connecting him with the stars, constellations and planets around. Zachary is roused once more by the presence of the youth.

He takes the tablet from Fourteen's hand and lays it out of the way. “You can shine a flashlight into the water. You can see huge numbers of fish, squid and rays. Best nature channel you will ever watch.” Zachary kisses Fourteen and is rewarded with his full attention.

Fourteen lets the back of his hand disturb the thick hairs on Zachary’s chest. “I liked sailing with Mary at night. It was cooler then. The long nights when Anton and I traded watches on the quarter.”

“Sailing at night with a full moon is magical. Most of my clients miss that. They like to sleep between the islands so they can spend their days ashore. Imagine that? To miss the midnight ocean? Okay, you don’t see many stars, but the phosphorescence as you slip through the waves is so worth it.”

Fourteen imagines swimming with Zachary right then and there. Two sensual-sensate creatures bathed in bioluminescence, CG effects marking brilliant lines along their naked bodies as they touched.

“Hang on a second,” Zachary orders. Fourteen is left on Serendipity's deck while Zachary shifts to the cockpit. “Kid, come here.”

Fourteen thinks he means the swim platform off the Bavaria’s stern, but Zachary has waved a flashlight from the starboard deck. Fourteen comes to his man.

“Lie down here so you can see.” Fourteen stretches out, and then Zachary’s heaviness is pressing down on his back, the now familiar musk mingling with the ocean brine. “Take a look. Here, you hold the flashlight.”

Fourteen reaches down as far as he can toward the water. The flashlight beam goes down into the depths. They stretch their heads over and gaze down into the water. Zachary possesses him. Fourteen opens to the shaft and feels its presence flood him.

“Creatures are drawn to light, Fourteen. Curiosity, the chance to capture food that might slip by unnoticed in the dark. Or maybe they are just like us, dazzled by the unexpected beauty breaking through the simply ordinary. There is opportunity in the light, just as there is danger.”

The steel cable of the guardrail offers purchase. Zachary uses it to lift his body over Fourteen’s. He pulls the cable toward himself, feels the wire flex in his fist each time he delves a little deeper into the youth beneath him. Fourteen slips forward with a thrust, chest breaking over the jackstays. His arm is reaching toward the water and the creatures caught in the cone of Zachary’s flashlight. The man pins him to the deck, but it is the life in the ocean that has him transfixed.

“So much life,” Zachary grunts.


Bequia, Grenadines

August 10, 2018

The bay is filled with half monohulls and half catamarans. Zachary Jain has nothing against catamarans, but he likes to see the monohulls. You can tell they are definitely live-aboard boats. Funky boats painted different colors. Things tied all over the deck and people swarming around them. Every boat has people. There are rowboats with sail rigs catching the bay breeze, kids everywhere.

A small boy cons his Zodiac between Serendipity and Sirocco. He glances Fourteen’s way, eyes squinting in the wind, tangled mop of brown hair fluttering back like a flag of inconvenience. The boy’s left hand clings to a strap while his right firmly manages the outboard. He is close enough for Zachary to see the flex when he juices the small motor, as if to catch Fourteen’s attention. The boy’s intense curiosity and pale face and legs mark him as a tourist.

Like Finn, Zachary is reminded of his son. Not like Finn, he revises as the trim boy starts weaving lazy curves on boring-bay. His son is eleven, much like the boat-boy. Jennifer feeds anxiety into Finn and too much pads his body. It is almost like her goal is to deconstruct the parts of Finn that might remind her of her ex. Santana is eight now.

Zachary sees his estranged children for three weeks during the summer when they come for a visit. Hurricane season, that’s what it is, dog days of summer. “Do you have children?” Zachary asks Anton Schroeder.

“God no!” he answers from where Daniel is slathering sunscreen on his nut-brown body.

“He is a child. I thought you realized that,” Daniel opines.

The boy in the Zodiac has come about and looks to be coming back their way. Fourteen has moved further towards the bow with his phone conversation. Like the boy in the passing Zodiac, Fourteen’s slim body draws appreciative eyes. Anton’s Speedo would compliment Fourteen’s body better.

“I’ve two,” Zachary volunteers. Finn and Santana, their relationship is distant and strained since Zachary has not been in their lives since they were six and three. Three forced weeks a year where Santana was still too young to love cruising and Finn perpetually seasick and playing his damn video games.

“My friends?” Fourteen’s voice breaks the lapse in cockpit conversation. Zachary stands to stretch. Fourteen sailed with his companions and slept on Anton’s ketch when they reached Bequia. Zachary missed him.

Fourteen looks around towards the men in the cockpit, seemingly absorbed in this conversation and the thoughts it generates. He is listening or he is gathering his thoughts.

“Oh. Um. Okay what did they want?” Fourteen exchanges a look with Zachary, then turns his back to the cockpit. “Oh, okay, I, those stories were— were pretty awful....”

For a long time Jeremy is just listening, not reacting outwardly, in his internal drift. He does not notice Zachary approaching.

“Mom, I have to think about this, I don't really … I just … I feel … I need … ” What do I need? What do I feel?

He is Jeremy for the moment, mentally and emotionally stopped in his tracks. It is not as if he has had a heavy reaction to his mother’s words about his friends. It is that he has to actually think about this. In fact, this has long been part of his fears. But with Patrick and John dead, and having come to a degree of comfort with his being gay— is that still a concern? Does that figure in his decisions?

Jeremy feels Zachary’s intrusive hand on his shoulder. Anton and Daniel would know enough to give him space during his conversations home. The boy in the Zodiac is buzzing in his field of vision. Perhaps he is a bit like Shane about the time I first ….

Jeremy feels so separated from Chillicothe, from those boys; he can't even picture himself in that reality. Whether they would accept him literally doesn't mean anything to him. No, not that it doesn't mean anything, he too is suddenly moved by their loyalty, he just doesn't … he doesn't see that it can affect his life. The things they would protect him from are not things he feels threatened by any more. He does not seek the approval of his peers any more. Or at least he thinks so. But that leaves him feeling...well he's not sure how he feels. He knows that at one time it would have been massively important to him; and he knows somewhere inside there has to be part of him that cares, but— that's Jeremy, not Fourteen. And maybe not Jeremy any more….  

“I need some time to think,” Jeremy tells his mother. The Galaxy he has begun to use slips automatically into his shorts as Zachary runs his fingers down Fourteen’s bare back, hooking them experimentally in Fourteen’s waistband. “I need time to think,” Fourteen tells his lover. He turns into Zachary’s arms in a welcome-warning. The boy in the Zodiac has turned his prow toward Serendipity and seems to want a chat. “Tonight?”

Zachary surrenders and leaves the teenager to the boy in the boat. They are already chattering as Zachary hops down beside Anton.


It takes a while to work out tasty and Anton-healthy meals. Each port of call has different supermarkets, types and brands of available foods. Sirocco is moving on to St. Lucia and Martinique, although Fourteen wants to stay with Zachary Jain here in the Grenadines indefinitely. I need time to think, he told his mother.

“Your boat has satellite, that would be so sweet! I wish we had a link. Dad says we can’t afford it. It sucks!” This is Jacob, eleven years old and super bored. He is Fourteen’s taxi driver and porter for the price of some older male companionship. Up close, Jacob is no more like Shane or Wade than any coltish preteen. He has a toothy grin and a mop of hair Fourteen wants to cuff.

“That is Zachary’s boat, not mine. We don’t have satellite on Sirocco either. That’s the the ketch beside it. We go that way,” Fourteen points. “You got that buddy?” he asks about the shopping bag nearly dragging on the ground.

“I got it,” Jacob replies, manning up. His thin biceps bulges out with the press. “You’re getting a lot of things!”

The galley is Fourteen’s domain. Travelling with Zachary Jain has eaten into Sirocco’s stores. “Gotta stock up on cans, dry goods, booze is Anton’s problem, we buy fresh locally.”

“Man, I never thought about it,” Jacob comments. “I just look in the fridge and grab a Coke.”

“You’re on a cruise, right?”

“Three weeks.” This comes out with less enthusiasm than Fourteen would expect. “Then back to school.”

“Well, someone on that boat had to get the food.” Fourteen waves about the town. “Water is scarce and expensive here. We shower off the back of our boat.”

“Naked?” Jacob giggles.

“Just us men,” Fourteen explains. “Don’t you skinny dip sometimes?”

“Not hardly!” Jacob blushes a little. “Are you almost done?”

“Are you complaining?” It might take four hours to visit five shops. Jacob’s family is sunning on their charter cruise. Nobody is in a hurry. “I need to find new guitar strings.”

“I have some!” Jacob volunteers eagerly. His sister has extra strings. She has hardly played her guitar on the trip. Jacob is pretty sure she would throw the whole damn instrument Fourteen’s way. She is thirteen and acting stupid with the young man who crews the yacht his parents rented this year.

It takes an hour to unpack everything. Jacob asks why Fourteen is actually unpacking everything. “Cardboard gets thrown away because bugs love it,” Fourteen explains.

Jacob runs back to the yacht to steal his sister’s spare strings. The men on the charter boat ignore him completely. They get angry when he trespasses curious into crew territory. Fourteen amazes him with all the spots he stows the food. “What’s in there?” He points to a berth, batteries and half a dozen things. “What’s there?” Jacob points between his legs.

“Your dick and sack,” Fourteen deadpans.

Jacob has to give the teenager a hard shove, but he is laughing too. “No stupid, down there,” he points to the bilge beneath their feet. Fourteen just rattles off a list of items Anton has packed away. He tells the boy about the wires and pipes as well.

Work done, Fourteen sits down on the pilot berth and shows Jacob his broken guitar. “I’m still learning, not that good,” Fourteen warns the little boy. Words wasted, Jacob is sure everything Fourteen does is good. The boy extracts the package from his pocket. “Thanks, I gotta give you something. You’ve saved my life!”

Attention, usefulness, Fourteen has already given Jacob all he needs. He sits watching the teenager strip the old guitar strings. Fourteen pauses in thought. “I’ve got it! I’ve got just what you need.”

Fourteen lays his guitar down and turns to the items he has stowed. “My old iPod, this should keep you going till you get home. I’ve put some stuff on it that you can use without a signal. Maybe you can hot spot off your parents. Anyway, little dude, you can get your fix on the beach like I do.”

“Oh Jeremy,” Jacob begins, “This is too much!”

“It’s just an old iPod. It was a gift, so I’m regifting it to you,” No big deal, his tone and shrug seem to say.

“It’s locked,” Jacob looks up in frustration.

“Oh, right,” Fourteen takes Makayla’s iPod back. He has not used it since La Paz when Daniel bought him the Galaxy. It is keyed to his fingerprint. Email alert, like worrying the before of coming out to Shane and his friends, this too has been out of Fourteen’s mind. After (fucking) Cordell and (sexy-bad) Elvis, so much has left the building. Just touching the little device sends the flood. Yeah, give it to the kid, Jeremy advises now. “Just a second,” Fourteen mutters. He looks at the last message first.

Hey Jeremy

Its me Keon. I hope you get this I don't know if you got my other emails or not. The FBI found our place in Arizona by tracking my emails to you I think. But they aint doing that no more, I saw on TV that you and your folks are talking but you didn't go home.

Anyway I wanted to let you know we moved we left Arizona. I think my ma figured out I was messing arund with Inez anyway she told daddy if he didn't move us she would so we moved to Mary land. It's not bad, we got a small corral and a horse but we have to go to regular school and actually its more fun to have other kids to play with anyhow. Its a ranch but its small way smaller than the rez.

Well Cordell got shot and burned up in that blazer. Fool. He always gonna end up dead that boy and good thing he didn't get you killed. And good riddance to old Samuel that bastard gotta figure out how to take that old truck with him and he'll be gone too with Inez. Anyway I think all the others gonna have to leave the rez anyhow, so tahts that. I miss climbing the rocks with you. Write back sometimes. Be kool.

Keon King, Fourteen almost caresses the iPod as he absorbs the message. Cordell dead? He had wondered. Elvis (sexy-bad) Parker shot and burned to death, (Fucking) Cordell shot and burned to death, in Samuel Faulkner’s Blazer? The coincidence is too strong. Keon has said too little. It is good to hear from Keon, good to know he got away from the Pueblo, finally.

“Jeremy?” Jacob asks.

“No, it’s good. I just needed some time to think. Signal from Serendipity is pretty good. I made Anton anchor close enough,” Fourteen grins at Jacob. “Just, just hang on a sec.” Fourteen forwards Keon’s email to his Galaxy and Android tablet. The iPod should be burned like the phone he took from San Diego and discarded in Barbados. Burn it, burn it all, Jeremy advises.

“Let’s set this up for you, little dude.”

“You’re the little dude,” Jacob taunts back at Fourteen.

“Hey, I’m a big fourteen and you’re like what? Seven?”

The iPod and guitar are forgotten as Jeremy moves in for the kill. After that there is a catfight filled with Jacob’s shrill shrieks and maybe a little involuntary pee.


Off Bequia, the Grenadines

August 11, 2018

He went to it by himself to think things through. His mother’s last call urging him to think of reaching out to Shane, Shay and Wade. Really, just the first imagined step in coming out to Chillicothe; coming back to Chillicothe. He does not want to think about Keon’s unanswered email, of the string of earlier messages Keon left. Keon has stripped his last excuse away. It seems Fourteen has ghosted his way successfully away from the after offered by both Patrick and San Ysidro. The Beretta Nano betrayal lies lost at the bottom of Topolobampo harbor (hopefully) salt-etched into a well-deserved oblivion. You can go home, it is almost like he hears his father and mother reasoning with him. You have a home, and friends, it needs to be said. Then there is Zachary Jain’s offer to consider.

The island off Bequia is deserted. Sheer cliffs down to the placid water remind Fourteen of Barry Gordon’s Upper Peninsula. While he was angry with Levi Fisher, he took many walks along the rocky shore. Fourteen can see hand- and footholds where he and Keon could edge their way up to the rounded top. He never really puts it all behind him. That is why Chillicothe is untenable. There is always something to remind him of Lake Michigan or the Pueblo.

The Zodiac takes him to a pier with palms, a shell beach and more grey cliffs. A trail leads up to the headland. It might have been a road going to an abandoned military base. Zachary told him as much. The washout leads to cinderblock buildings camouflaged by the flat-topped trees and vines. He walks across a meadow to a line of coconut palms already strewn with shells about their base.

From the edge of the cliff, Fourteen can look down to where the pair of sailboats are anchored well away from the grasping shore. In the distance, balconied houses back on Bequia, set amidst splashes of red flame tree, climb upward. Three choices to consider: Serendipity, Sirocco, and the beach. Then, lost in his quandary of what ought to come after, Fourteen heads down past the palms to a pebble beach.

Fourteen stands bare feet. The ocean has stashed a dragon’s trove of conch shells that recall the island beach he explored with Paolo and Mirabella. Nothing is ever quite the same, nothing ever completely forgotten. Cankered twists of bone-white rock are stepping stones amongst the rounded cobbles. A modest surf washes his toes with a sudsy foam. A bleached brain coral catches his eye. He pulls his Galaxy out to Instagram the composition. It strikes Fourteen that it looks like someone’s curved back and shoulders. Someone shrouded in a grandma-friendly Chanel fabric. From Fourteen’s perspective, the figure is half buried in the beach. The head bent forward till it rests in permanent repose: Jeremy’s The Thinker.

Fourteen kept his promise to Zachary, he spent another night with him in Serendipity’s stateroom. It was in its way a definitive answer to his mother’s gentle prodding about reconnecting to Chillicothe. The stacked villas with their perfect views of the ocean were not a choice Jeremy Gates can consider. Fourteen smiles through the conundrum. The night moves were not entirely confined to the spacious V-berth.

Zachary accepted that the bobcat in his bed demanded respect. Fourteen was not some passive bottom boy. The fifteen-year-old was undeniably arousing. With Fourteen, the details seemed not to matter. He turned to the sexy boy. “I’ve done twenty-four charters in this area over four years. It has been exactly what I wanted. Great trade winds and turquoise waters, cays of coral for the snorkelers and divers. I could teach you how to dive. If there was time, I could lose you in these lush islands and fuck you senseless, if that is even possible, on secluded black and white sand beaches. You would make a better partner than Ashley was. My kids would like you better.”

“That sounds nice,” Fourteen purred. Pillow talk, spinning dreams together, the verbal lethargy brought on by sex.

“Only,” Zachary set off, “I’m leaving St. Vincent and the Grenadines, leaving the Caribbean altogether.” Fourteen’s beautiful cock captured his interest for a moment. He knew the youth would spread for him again, whenever he was ready. He used Fourteen’s body like a map. “We start here, then up to Bermuda.”

“Away from the tropics,” Fourteen suggested as a finger worked its way through the pride of his expanding pubic hair.

“Just a few islands along the way,” Zachary agreed as his finger followed the tentative treasure trail to Fourteen’s navel. He paused on the cute innie, “Bermuda.”

“Made it past the Bermuda Triangle safely,” Fourteen observed.

“Bermuda,” Zachary draws this out equivocally. “Some time, not sure. It would be nice to bring on clients for the passage. Up to six, we move into the bunk berth, give up the staterooms. The money would be good. This, maybe not such a good idea until we drop them off.” Zachary’s palm went back to cup Fourteen’s groin.

His finger returned to Fourteen’s navel. “Bermuda along the southern route east north east to Portugal.” The finger traced to Fourteen’s nipple. “Follow the trade winds 1690 miles to the Azores, if all goes well. We might stay there for a while, look around.” Zachary’s finger circled Fourteen’s nipple. So small, compared to Ashley’s. “About seventeen days to reach the Azores, probably. Another week to reach Portugal.” Zachary’s finger traced to Fourteen’s mouth. He kissed the parted lips and moved his hand back to Fourteen’s groin.

“We take on real passengers,” not Anton Schroeder’s masquerade. “Serendipity Travel is a NauticEd affiliated school. I’m a Royal Yachting Club certified instructor. Say you are interested in earning certification. I have satellite, you know that. I can offer NauticEd’s free navigation training. I can teach you the rules for IALA. What do you say? Online multimedia sailing theory courses as I give you on-the-water practical training and experience.”

Fourteen has grown hard while Zachary talked. Never make decisions before, during or after sex, darling boy, bad chemistry. Anton added, Or when you’re drunk! Fourteen put his arms behind his head, considering this new proposition.

“We use an electronic logbook where you can enter Anton’s on-the-water experience. So many miles already made for a SLC certificate.”

“I have to go to Antigua,” Fourteen reminded Zachary.

“We can do that. I think you will be disappointed. Perhaps you will stay with Serendipity (stay with me) for that long. Then maybe, you join the adventure! Portugal —“

“Italy, Milan?” Fourteen asked.

“The best of the Mediterranean and then all the rest.” Zachary worked Fourteen’s cock to its climax. Adolescent Armageddon, the youth crunched over his bliss, then quickly offered a kiss for thanks.

“You’re beautiful, like a mayfly. Take rivers past castles, Holland, the Baltic,” Zachary hiked Fourteen’s knees to his chest and pierced him.

“Around the world?”

“Something to think about later,” Zachary replied. The face, and the way the youth brushed an arm across his eyes, and then clasped fingers around Zachary’s neck, piercing the man as deeply with his eyes as he had been impaled on Zachary’s shaft.

In the morning, Zachary told Fourteen, “The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them.”

Zachary likes the youth, having him along would be a pleasure. Fourteen certainly sails better than Ashley. Still, what did Hemingway say? When you have shot one bird flying you have shot all birds flying. They are all different and fly in different ways but the sensation is the same and the last one is as good as the first.

Fourteen is only fifteen. He feels so much uncertainty and in his short life he feels as if he has made his share of mistakes. How many chances can a nine-life cat hope for? I let it slip by unnoticed, is that a good thing? Is it simply healing that Fourteen let August 9th slip by without grieving? Was it that horrible anniversary that prompted his mother to call him back to before?

I should have had a Viking funeral for Jeremy Gates, Fourteen tastes the idea and finds it sour. Little Jacob, such a cute kid, called him Jeremy. It was that easy for him to use that name. It’s who I am. Fourteen is like the shroud of brain coral. All those thoughts surrounding who I am, the Chillicothe coming out I’ve run from ever since I looked at Shane and thought, “What if?” Antigua or Portugal, still a conundrum.

Fourteen surveys the graveyard beach. Shells whole and broken, but the life that they once contained is gone. This now is only one day in all the days that will ever come to him. But what will happen in the after can depend on what he does today. It's been that way all this year. It's been that way so many times. All life is that way.

Fourteen takes another look at Jeremy, The Thinker. Is the figure being submerged, or is it poised in the act of rising from the depths where it has laid? Is it the ocean waves that gently-violently reveal the hidden man? There is a suggestion of a bent leg beyond the bowed back he has imagined. Fourteen imagines arms shielded by the back’s protection. Arms that grow as strong as Zachary Jain’s or Daniel Ayers’ which will push the coral man free from the clinging sand with its cobbles and dead shells.

Brief, Anonymous Survey:

Readers are often too busy or reluctant to reach out to authors. I appreciate hearing from you all. Please take my Fourteen Survey (Again). It is a quick Google Form where you can comment on this next section Jeremy Gates’ time with Anton and Daniel.

I have written a variety of short stories and novellas. You can follow this safe link to my Body of Work.