Date: Sat, 17 Nov 2001 10:52:03 -0800 (PST) From: Zane Green Subject: Jaded 3 JADED By: Zane Hunter Chapter Three: Jaden's trial The copyright of this story and poems belongs to the author. You can use it at a site that is a not-for money location. This is a piece of fiction not based on any real person. This story is for a mature audience as it has adult material. Let me know what you think of it. Please send E-mails to zaneg7@excite.com Oushhh, he was captive of the rushing waters. It tasted terrible, and smelled like bugspray. He fought it... Jaden managed to keep his head up as he struggled to gain control of his movement in the gushing water. A few times he almost made it to the sides but it was slippery and he couldn't get a grip. The canals were not designed for human recreation, but he had seen kids playing in the canals before, so he didn't panic. He could make it. Then he was growing too tired from being pushed into the sides, not long enough to get a grip, but in time to bruise his arms and legs. He was reaching the point where he was tempted just to let it all go and join his mother, what did he have waiting for him to make this struggle worthwhile? When the waters grew shallower he had enough stamina to try to reach the edge one more time. Surprisingly there were cottonwood trees bending down to the water giving him something to cling to with his right hand. He was further than six miles from when he was pushed in, and when he struggled out of the canal he realized he was still holding the soccer ball as if it was part of his body. His shaky feet and adrenaline helped him to climb up the embankment. In doing so he came face to face with two men in yoga poses. They saw him, unwrapped their bodies and walked over to help him. "That is the most unusual way any boy has arrived here at the spa, but welcome. Do you want us to show you where the main house is?" Jaden shivered, not knowing what to say. He had no idea where he was, and found it strange that he just fought for his life in the canal and these men looked at him as if he was expected. "Come with me sweetheart." Jaden shivered as the taller man came over and gave him instructions. Take off those wet clothes, and I'll give you my towel to warm your self with. Don't be shy, at the spa all the boys go around naked. You're signed up for the weekend here aren't you?" "No...I..." His clothes were slimy and damp so with the men looking at him as if they were waiting for him to strip he felt he had no choice. The towel looked warm, and he had never been inhibited. He shivered as he decided to follow their orders. He put down the ball and took off his wet shirt; revealing his lean chest with its tiny mimosa-colored nipples, a flat belly, and smooth golden skin. The men sighed. They were looking at him much the way the man from social services had earlier in the day. He got the message, they liked him. They were staring at him because they liked what they saw. It made him warm and tingly. He felt a funny heat down below. He guessed they wanted to see what was hidden under his soaked jeans. He thought it was almost funny but it was exciting too. Here were two men who had stopped what they were doing to help him, but they seemed to be entertained by him. He unzipped his pants slowly, holding them up for a few minutes before he started to try and wiggle out of them. One man responded by helping him, and he nodded his approval. Together they pulled off the soaked denim jeans. His legs were slender, flecked with hair so pale that they looked hairless. His knee was skinned, and red marks showed where he had slammed into the cement sides of the waterway, but they did not distract from his unearthly beauty. All he had left was his once-white socks and underwear. His shoes were no longer with him. He lifted up one foot at a time and peeled off the muddy socks. Now all that was left were his briefs. He could have kept them on, but he wanted to make these men happy, Somehow he understood that if he removed them the men would like it. He stretched out on tiptoe as he lowered them. He cast his eyes down. All he saw was his small little hose, as he though of it, it was not as pinkish as usual from the cold. His tiny scrotum below was shriveled as if it had hibernated. There wasn't much there he thought, but he felt the heat from the men, and it made him excited. His hose grew thicker if no longer. He had no experience comparing real penises but he remembered his mother had once said that it would have cost money to have him circumcised, so she hadn't had his penis cut. He wondered how mother's could decide to have a part of his body cut off so he was curious to see what a boy looked like with a penis that was cut, so he had looked up the word circumcised at the library in a book that illustrated the penis. Before the librarian came over giving him an odd look he saw that his was the one that dangled like a long tree ornament, not the kind that looked like a top on the end of a stick. Showing the men his penis should have made him feel dirty, but it didn't. It made him feel like showing off more. He wondered what he had that they might want to see. Instinctively he had the idea that perhaps they would want him to bend over. At first he thought it would be to hide his penis and show it again. He bent over, his perfect little butt in a pleasant position where the men savored his beauty. He didn't know that this submissive position made him completely desirable to the two men that now had their eyes and mind on his butt crack. When he stood up again and looked at them with his guileless expression, they smiled at him. He didn't quite know what he wanted next, but he felt that it would be nice if the men touched him. It was as if the water had gone to his brain. He had no future; his family was gone, yet he wanted to please these men. He was so desperate that he wanted them to like him, to help him. A momentary thought flashed through his mind that he wasn't himself at all, perhaps he had died in the water and this was a spirit who was tantalizing, and being seduced by being close to these two strangers. He dared them to touch him. Not in words but with his body language. The tall man came over closer, just to take his hand, or help him wrap the towel. The warmth of the boy's body was abnormally hot like the warmth of frostbite. Finally Jaden mouthed the words "Please, touch me." By touch he did not mean just a few strokes. He wanted to feel alive, vindicated by the touch of his sensitive glans. The man lightly grazed his hand over Jaden's hose. It moved like a cat being petted, or a hose with a kink where the water pressure gathers and need release. The men were wearing bathing suits so Jaden saw them growing bulges. Jaden wanted the touching to grow bolder, inviting both the men to explore the parts of him that had been cold. He liked it, and they worshipped his young body using their hands along with their eyes. They figured that this boy had to be a special guest among the boys who craved older lovers, and were the honored guests for the weekend at The Golden Shower Door Health and Beauty Spa. This quiet retreat catered to the gay population, although a number of straights yearned for a reservation. Each weekend was a different theme. Baris, the tall man had been there a few weeks ago for the Life makeover for those who spent much of their day sedentary jobs. It was then over a 100 ways to use green tea talk that he heard from another guest about this weekend. Unlike the family weekend, this was known as the Plato-Appreciation Festival. It was by scare invitation only. When Baris applied he was told that very few new comers were excepted, most of the guests brought their own boys with them. Baris had been issued an invitation he suspected because of a prize written poem he had published in an anthology last year called What a Boy Is: A boy is younger, primal, the seed of a man. From the seed of a man. That brings the material of maleness. A boy has Silken limbs that will muscle in time. Hair that shimmers In silken threads Before it grows full below. Light above. A boy is nature's crown. Clowning one minute Serious the next. Always moving. A boy is the river. Before it joins with the sea. The boy is fresh water Before the fertile salt Stings, and hardens The bell of his songs. A boy is the glorious Creation pre-programmed To become a man. And makes more the man. When with the boy. His friend that was doing the Yoga mediation was Jacob. He had been attending this weekend for several years with his boyfriend, Tim who was now eighteen. Jacob was in his forties, yet the couple was more in love than most people Tim, the young man, who was Jacob's lover was more interested in active sports, and he was currently playing ice hockey in the arena while Baris went off with Jacob to the river walk. The grounds had man-made creeks, which lead to the canal. Although it really wasn't a river the way was perfectly landscaped. Along the walk were banks of wild flowers, aromatic trees, and original statues of beautiful boys and men adorned like Greek Gods. By the Canal it looked like a wooded grove. Before the men had reached the canal they embarked on a debate about Baris's newer poem About the Trial of a man who loves boys and how he can help them. There is always a great risk, so how to go about it? Do you ignore the boys, especially teenage prostitutes or do you try to help and befriend them. They both agreed that there were throwaway boys, but by the time they came into the streets they were so abused by life that few wanted to take in and help them. The time to be there was when a child was young, but even if there was no condemable relationship at all, society had so many stigmas that it was hard to help any youngster, especially a young gay homeless boy. There were so very few places run for teenage homeless boys. Often a mother was turned away from a shelter if they had an older boy. They talked about the risks involved for those that were brave enough to run a shelter. Teenage boys were supposed to be treated like sexless creatures, although that was the very reason (Sex and violence) that a traditional shelter used to turn them away. There Are Always Other Movies Or The Trial of finding a Boy whose Alone Relaxing in the night, favorite boy movie On the DVD Watching an angel with blond tumbled locks. A smile to suck me in. Half a pizza, a litter of cola Friends later to call A good night. Morning rush, a grab for the trash bag Half a pizza, cold and stale Ready to aim, down the insulator STOP STOP STOP Didn't see the boy in the street 24 stories down, hungry and pale RE-WIND RE-WIND Lips blue, eyes brown, ran away a week ago From the endless beating, In the Bible belt. "No good son of... He's destined for hell." City of all shades, starting to grind him. D O W N. A busy night for take out pizza. The line still busy, I'll go there myself. I spot stillness in the busy street-life I pause to look. Under the street-lamp Is a boy? It's late and he's alone. I can sense his desperation. Do I get involved? Who fears more? Do I take him with me? And talk to him, as the pizza order is started. I know he is starving with no where to go. Do I take him upstairs? Is my home a haven or lair for a runaway boy? He sits on the sofa.and tells A story to rival any dream Hollywood can cook up. Trust, Is like the solid plane of the empty Oil stained pizza box. The fraction of each pizza I gave to him. Was never missed. Ironically when they played with Jaden, they didn't know that they were part of his trial of homelessness. To be continued: Next Chapter: The Golden Shower Door Spa. Please let me know what you think of this chapter. Did you like how the poetry fit in, or did it distract from the story? Would you like spa recipes and exercises? How far should I go with that sub-plot in the next chapter? You can write to Zaneg7 @excite.com