Date: Sat, 12 Oct 2013 21:59:45 -0400 From: Eff Del Subject: Young-But Daily Growing Part 15 Young, But Daily Growing-Part 15 By Eff Del Too often we will attempt to grab and pull toward us something that we desire or think we need only to find as we open our hands that they are empty and the object that we craved has alluded us. This is not necessarily because our grasp has exceeded our reach but more likely because we did not understand what we were actually seeking in the first place. The big room was dimly lit with the main illumination being the flickering glow of the fire in the large stone fireplace. The professor and I were sunk comfortably into the embrace of two ancient overstuffed chairs each nursing a glass of the apple schnapps that he so adored and I found so tart and sweet as to be barely palatable. A large red cushion was on the floor in front of the hearth. Sean was seated on it; one leg stretched out and one bent at the knee. Upon his lap the fine old guitar sounded the delicate and sweet notes that both his hands worked intricately but quite separately to create. He had been playing and singing for us for over an hour and we both sat enchanted. He had just completed a complex rendering of the melody on the six metal strings and now his untrained but pure little boy soprano sang the final words of the song that had been written so long before he had been born; "But of all these friends and lovers There is no one compares with you And these memories lose their meaning When I think of love as something new Though I know I'll never lose affection For people and things that went before I know I'll often stop and think about them In my life I love you more Though I know I'll never lose affection For people and things that went before I know I'll often stop and think about them In my life I love you more In my life I love you more"* The final note from the guitar faded just slightly after his singing had ceased. He looked up at us and smiled. I returned his smile and nodded my head. There was nothing I could or needed to say. "Extraordinary." Dr. Swaim muttered softly and rose from his chair. "On that most wonderful note, I shall bid you both a good night." "G'nite professor." Sean spoke before me. "It was a neat day an' your chili was great." It had indeed been a neat day. I'd sat upon the big round rock and served as net man while Sean fished the afternoon away. He'd landed and then released about six more nice sized feisty bass and several placid bluegills. As the sun had dipped low in the late January sky, the day had gotten much cooler and we headed back to the cabin to wash up and have Sean put a warm shirt on. I made two Jack Daniels and waters for the professor and myself. I'd been miffed to discover that there was no scotch in the cabin. I must do something about that. Doctor Swaim was in the kitchen fussing with dinner, Sean was curled up at the end of the couch reading his book and I sat sipping my drink content to watch Sean and think my confusing thoughts. And, the chili HAD been great. His chili was ALLWAYS great. It was just one of the many, many things that made Doctor Swaim such a mystery man. I'd first tasted it when I was 13 years old that magical summer that he first came into my life. I was a raging fan from that moment on. Unlike what so many people thought of as chili, his was of the authentic Texas variety...no beans, no fillers just meat, peppers, tomatoes and onions. The recipe was his own and quite secret. Over the years I'd learned a few things about it: he used 2/3 beef and 1/3 pork for the meat, 3 different types of chili peppers which he ground to powder himself and another two powdered spices the identities of which were known only to himself. He had some special method of pre-browning the meat that he kept hidden from prying eyes. He'd made me a promise that he would share the complete recipe when I was "worthy". Exactly when that would be he never specified. He'd simmered it for hours and served it to us in heaping bowls with slices of his own home made cornbread. Sean was hooked with his first mouthful. Doc and I had washed ours down with ice cold beer drunk straight from the bottle. Sean had to settle for root beer but seemed quite content with that. After dinner we'd moved into the big room and at the Doctor's request, Sean had gotten out the guitar. As the large man disappeared up the stairs, Sean rose up from the cushion and carefully...lovingly placed the guitar into its case and moved it safely over against a wall. Not moving from my chair, I opened my arms to him and he moved quickly over and crawled up onto my lap arms around my neck and his head resting on my chest and shoulder. I wrapped him in a comfortable embrace and we sat in that fashion for a long, long time. No words were spoken. We were content to be together locked in each other's arms sharing our warmth and closeness. Finally though, after the trauma of the past 24 hours and conflicting thoughts stemming from the professor's earlier conversation in the library, I needed to do more than hug I needed to be even closer. I needed to share my deep strong feelings in a physical way. I lifted him off my lap and stood him on the floor. I tugged gently at the hem of his shirt and he silently raised his arms into the air so that I could pull it off of him in one smooth motion. I popped the snap at the waist of his grey cargo shorts and pulled down the zipper. They dropped to the floor and he stepped out of them without a word. Picking him up, I carried him across the room to the large red cushion he had been sitting on and laid him across it. I grasped the band of his underpants and worked them off his hips, down his legs and off. The fire had almost died save for the large bed of coals that burned with barely a flicker. Aside from this red glow, the room was dark. I knelt down on the floor and ran my hands slowly but hungrily all over his sleek young body. In the unbelievably short time that we had been together I already knew every perfect smooth inch of him. Every little crease every sweet tasty bump...every nook and cranny. I smiled at that and thought; "Yeah. He's my very own little English Muffin.' I lowered my head and pressed my lips against his. He was still not a very good kisser but what he lacked in skill he more than made up for in enthusiasm. I was so starved for the taste of him that I half feared I would smother him with my passion. I kissed him almost desperately as my hands continued to explore and caress. Eventually I could restrain myself no longer and I moved down and engulfed his little cock in my mouth. Sucking urgently and torturing it with quick almost cruel swipes of my tongue, he was soon breathing hard and gasping as his little hips raised and lowered in tandem with my movement upon his wonderful little rod. There was no pretense of subtlety here. I was trying urgently to bring him off quickly. I needed so badly to feel him in my hands as he writhed in the sublime bliss of his dry youthful orgasm. His exclamation of pleasure was an almost tearful cry as he gave himself over to the sudden waves of pleasure sweeping his beautiful body. He heaved and bucked until he was spent and then collapsed against the soft red surface beneath him breathing heavily but smiling broadly as he gazed at me. I leaned in and quickly kissed each of his little nipples. When I looked back up his face had gotten serious. He reached out and pulled my head down toward him and he said very softly. "Nobody ever liked me like you do Eric. I hope you're always gonna like me even when I haffta go back." My heart did a sudden flip but professor Swaim's warning ran in my mind; "Do not say anything to him until you've made a decision." I gathered his clothes up from the floor and then scooped him up throwing him sack like over my shoulder. He began to giggle but I cautioned him that Doctor Swaim was sleeping. We were almost at the top of the stairs when he farted. That was the end of that. He began laughing so hard I had to run down the hall to our room hoping that he hadn't awakened the sleeping professor. I threw him onto the bed and covered his mouth with one hand but by then, I was laughing too. I don't think there is anything in the world that a little boy finds quite as funny as a fart and there's nothing in the world I find quite as infectious as a little boy's laugh. There was just a glimmer of light coming through the window when I woke the next morning. Sean was still sleeping- one arm and one leg across me in his typical fashion. I carefully extricated myself out from under him, slid out of the bed and walked softly to the window. It was like stepping back in time- I stood naked as I had once done in my then 8 year old body all those long years ago when I'd first been allowed to spend the night here with Pa Pop. It had been a prideful day when my Grandfather had announced to everyone that "Little E" was going to be his weekend fishing partner. I remember my grandfather as a gentle, wise man. Who spoke softly, walked quietly and carried with him an aura of deep sadness. I was often told when I'd grown older that he had been quite a different person before my grandmother died. Her death was sudden and he took it very hard. I suppose he must have loved her greatly though I couldn't say because she died before I was born and so I had no memories of her. I remembered that wonderful first day fishing... just me and Pa Pop. He would sing funny little songs as he fussed with me showing me how to tie the line to my hook using the blood knot. We had night crawlers for bait and were fishing for blue gills. He told me silly stories and occasionally hugged me for no apparent reason. He later cooked a fabulous fish dinner just for the two of us. These were all things that he'd never done with me before and it made me feel so proud and important. That night I had trouble going to sleep in the strange bed all by myself listening to the night noises from the woods surrounding the little cabin. It was my first night sleeping anywhere but my room in the big mansion and I wanted so much not to be afraid. It was scary being alone in the room like that but I endured it because I wanted to be brave for him. Just like now, I had risen from my bed as the first grey light of dawn was slipping through the window and just like now, I had walked softly...naked and wondering to gaze out upon the lake. It was just the same then as it was this very morning and I felt as though I was once again looking through my youthful eyes as the thick mist rose from the surface of the water. I silently mouthed the words that I had actually spoken that morning so very long ago; "It's so beautiful." I would have liked to have remained suspended in time like that for a while longer but when you've got to piss in the morning, nothing else takes precedent for very long. I was "shaking off the dew drops" as Kyle used to say when I heard the soft sound of bare feet on the tiles behind me. He was smiling while rubbing his eyes to clear the sleep away. "Mornin' Eric!" he slid by me to take his place at the toilet. "I slept soooo good last night how about you?" "It seems I always sleep very well when I spend the night here but you know what?" He looked over his shoulder as if asking for the answer. He was still peeing. "I can't sleep in the bed in that other room. This is the only room...the only bed I've ever slept in here at Fish Camp and I guess it will always be that way. But, it's also the first time I've slept there with you and that was really special too." The showers at the cabin are tiny single person affairs and so we took turns. It wasn't much fun but we did stay in the bathroom to keep each other company. Breakfast was pancakes. I sincerely believe that pancakes were the only thing Doctor Swaim knew how to make for breakfast because as long as I'd known him that was the only thing I'd ever seen him prepare. Not that it mattered because his pancakes were wonderful and even though Fish Camp was on the same 200 acres as Joyous Gaurde, there was something psychological about spending the night there that made you wake up with twice the appetite. As the three of us sat eating... with the adults sipping our coffee and Sean drinking his milk... we discussed our plans. After breakfast Sean and I would pack away his fishing tackle and then he and I were going to go for a hike. When we returned we would head back to the big house and leave Doctor Swaim in peace. He shared with me for the first time that he was indeed working on another book which was why he had so quickly embraced the chance to accept the tutoring assignment. The little cabin was an ideal spot to create in solitude. He acknowledged that he could make good use of a weekend alone but that he would be down to the main house this evening so that we could select a room where Sean's formal schooling was to take place. I mentioned that I'd been thinking that my grandfather's office in the old south wing might be perfect. He agreed that we'd look at it this evening. Fixing Sean with a firm but not unfriendly look he announced that "school hours" would begin on Monday. The property was only 200 acres but a large part of it was wooded and the naturally hilly terrain allowed for many twisting climbing and very interesting trails. In my youth I had explored them all either alone or later when he was old enough, with Kyle. I was taking Sean to one of my favorite spots. The trail hadn't been hiked in many years and had become overgrown through lack of use. We had to snake in between branches and bushes that had grown across the path that slowly but steadily climbed higher. Though overgrown it was still obvious enough to follow with relative ease. When we broke through the last bit of bramble, we emerged out into a natural clearing at the top of the large hill that marked the highest point of the estate. While it couldn't be called a mountain by any standards, it was significantly higher than anything else around it and thus afforded a wonderful view of the property. The entire acreage was sprawled out park like below us and it was quite a sight. I could tell Sean was impressed although the closest that he came to waxing eloquent was to exclaim; "Wow." After I'd allowed him to take in the view from different spots and angles I led him further down the path. "Kyle and I used to call this Hawk's Hill because this is where the red tailed hawks build their nests and sometimes rest before swooping down upon their prey down there. We used to spy on their nests right after their eggs had hatched ...it's the wrong time of year for that though. Come this way I want to show you something else." The top of the hill was crowned by a pile of massive boulders that had been pushed up and piled together by nature thousands of years ago probably by a glacier during one of the ice ages. I was no geologist and Kyle had called them the "giant's stones". That had always worked for me. I led him around the large rocks and through a passage between boulders that somehow seemed smaller than I remembered it. "I guess I was a kid the last time I was here" I thought to myself. It was off to the right just as I remembered it. It was a natural shelter formed by a fortuitous grouping of rocks. Once we crawled through the opening, the interior was more than high enough for Sean to be able to stand up comfortably while I had to stoop a bit. "This was our fort." I almost whispered. "We called it The Cave and it was our secret place. I don't think another soul knows that it exists. We used to tell each other that if we ever needed to hide, this was the place we could come and live like Indians or cavemen forever." The fire ring that we had built in the center of the stone floor was untouched. Dark charcoal ashes and one partially burned log filed the circle of stones. All of the crude wooden furniture we had made stood as it had been left. At the far wall the battered old foot locker that we had laboriously manhandled up here from the main house still rested undisturbed over the years. I walked over to it, snapped the latch and opened the top. It didn't smell nearly as musty as I'd anticipated it would, and the piles of blankets, pillows and throw rugs that we had so stealthily sneaked out of the house so long ago were still neatly folded and seemed to be in remarkably good shape. No varmints or mildew had invaded the sturdy chest. I closed the lid and reset the latch. Against one of the walls a roughhewn set of shelves we'd constructed still held the pots and fry pans that Mrs. Edwards had pretended never to have noticed were missing from her kitchen. "Come over this way Sean, I want to show you the cave paintings." He gave me a questioning look as I led him to the "gallery"... a relatively flat stone wall that was concealed behind an outcropping of rock. Kyle had studied photos of the famous Ice Age cave painting from Lascaux, France and made a series of his own drawings. He'd hauled paint and brushes up the hill and over the course of about six months had illustrated the wall that I later christened the "gallery". In a very clever imitation of the style of the ancient paintings, he had filled the area with all sorts of fantastic animals that had sprung from his fertile imagination. It was a wonderful piece of work and once created, Kyle and I had a marvelous time giving all of his different creature's names. I pointed out one of my favorites to Sean. It was a heard of strange animals with large hind legs, long snout like mouths sprouting long sharp teeth and tiny tails. We had dubbed them "Wolbits" because we decided they were part wolf and part rabbit. Sean was fascinated by the paintings and he studied them closely while I searched out a particular grouping from among the rest. I remembered it to be in the lower left part of the wall and getting down on my knees, I found it almost at once. It was two figures... very obviously human. One was almost twice as large as the other and the bigger one was brandishing a stick or a spear seemingly protecting the smaller one from the many beasts on the wall. Looking closely you could see that on the chest of the larger figure Kyle had painted the letter "E" while on the chest of the smaller was a "K". On the ground off to the side of the painted wall I noticed a wooden box. I stooped down and opened it. There were five cans of paint that had obviously been opened used and then resealed. Lying alongside these were three wood handled paintbrushes of different sizes. While they had obviously been well used, they had been meticulously cleaned before being stored in the box. I picked up the larger one and rolled the handle between my fingers, the last hand to have touched this had been Kyle's. I swallowed hard and took a deep breath. I lovingly replaced the brush in the box and sealed it again. Sean was looking at me with questions written all over his face. He had no way of knowing. I looked back at him and smiled. It amazed me as I did this because I suddenly realized that there were no ghosts waiting for me here. Just memories...very happy memories. We crawled back out through the opening and into the sun light. I stood up and dusted myself off... my mind a jumble of memories and thoughts. I didn't realize he was beside me until I felt his arms come around me and tighten into a hug. "Thanks little man." I said as I raised the funny floppy hat off his head and ruffled his hair. "I really needed that. " We arrived back at the big house about an hour later. While Sean sat in the kitchen eating fresh baked cookies and talking to Martha, I ducked into my study to see what phone messages there were since I'd left for the city. So much had happened in such a short time that it seemed like I'd flown out a week ago. I played the recording through and took a few notes and then walked back to the kitchen. "Well Sean," I said with a big smile, "Official congratulations are in order. There was a phone message from Coach Riorden officially telling you that you are on the swim team! The welcoming dinner is Monday so we've got to high tail it out to Strothers and pick up your club blazer." He was grinning from ear to ear and Martha was hugging him and congratulating him like he had just thrown the winning pitch in the last game of the World Series. While Sean was being treated as the all-conquering hero, I placed a call to Jacob Strothers to ensure Sean's blazer was ready to be picked up. He assured me that it was and if we could come in today, they'd like to do a final fitting on some of the other tailored garments I'd ordered for him. I sent Sean upstairs to shower and change and then called back to the garage to have John bring the limo up for us. I sat behind the desk in my study sipping on a whisky while I waited for Sean. My mind was filled with all of the emotions and questions that had been raised during the past few days. I had thought my major problem had been handled when I "slew the monster" and did the right thing by young Jack but now I realized that had been only part of it. Doc Swaim had now forced me to start evaluating what my actual relationship with Sean was going to be. In what manner did I want to keep him in my life or for that matter, did I really want to keep him at all? Said like that it sounded so cold and calculated, but when spelled out as the Doctor had done, it made complete sense. Did I simply want a little boy around to have fun with almost like a toy...or did I want to keep a growing boy in my life to nurture and watch grow with all the problems that would involve? AND... If I did, what would be my role in his life? Father? Brother? Lover? I swallowed the last mouthful of scotch and shook my head. I don't know. God help me, I just don't know. "Are we taking the Red Cat?" I spun toward the door jarred from my introspection. God he looked so beautiful wearing a dark blue polo shirt and white shorts. He had obviously left the floppy hat upstairs and that suited me just fine. "Not today buckaroo. John's going to take us in the limo." "Cool! I can tell John that I made the team." I reached out and took his hand and we walked out the back and toward the waiting limo. "If you'd like, you can ride up front with John and tell him all about it Sean." He gave me a huge grin and ran across the pavement to the car. "John! John! Guess what?" He paid no attention to the fact that John was standing there holding the rear door open for us. Instead, he opened the right front door and slid into the car. John was smiling as I got into the rear passenger compartment giving him a smile and a shrug of my shoulders as I did. Sean began talking a mile a minute as soon as John had turned the ignition. I slid open the walnut door of the built in bar, made myself a drink and settled back into my seat to listen. I couldn't help but smile as I picked up bits of his chatter. "I knew that day but I wasn't supposed to tell nobody..." "The seven of us guys are the best he's seen in a long time he says we're going to do great..." "We're gonna go to swim meets all over the place..." "I just wanna do so excellent because I know I can John..." "Monday we gotta go to this fancy dinner at the club that's why we gotta go pick up my club blazer today. I didn't even know I was gonna have a club blazer..." I winced thinking to myself; "How can such an intelligent boy speak such terrible English when he's excited?" At some point Sean finally came up for air and John jumped into the (up until then) one sided conversation; "You know Sean, there's another kind of pool that's a lot of fun too." The boy looked at him with a totally blank face. "There's a very nice pool table in the game room. Maybe some time I could teach you to play. Every guy should know how to play a game of 8 Ball or 9 Ball." "Could you John? Would you teach me how to play?" "Only if it's all right with Eric." "It's OK isn't it Eric? Could John teach me how to play pool?" I couldn't help but laugh. "Well Sean, if you're going to learn your way around a pool table, I suppose nobody could teach you better than a genuine hustler," John glanced at me from the rear view mirror. He was smiling broadly. "I resemble that remark Boss." "You certainly do" I replied smiling as I freshened up my drink. I'd first met John when I was 16. I was going through that stage that most young men about to bust out into maturity pass through. I wanted so desperately to be "cool". While I wasn't trying to be rebellious against my parents (I actually never did that), I wanted to be something more than how I felt saw me. I didn't know it then but I was about 8 months away from recognizing my sexual orientation and the inner confusion that I hadn't defined for myself yet, undoubtedly aided my youthful search for an identity. Hanging around the pool hall in town for some reason seemed like such a good idea to me at the time. Although I'd enjoyed a wonderful life of great privilege, the down side was that I was rather ignorant regarding the workings of the "real" world. I'd learned how to handle a cue on both a pool and a billiard table and like most everything I'd put my hand to, I'd become more than proficient. My only experience however, was friendly competition with family or friends in the safety and comfort of our game room. I certainly knew nothing about "playing for money" "house rules" or "hustling". I was in trouble the first time I picked up a cue from the rack on the wall in Arnie's Place. While it was not exactly a dive or even a terribly disreputable place, a certain type of people tended to hang out there and some questionable actions were either tolerated or overlooked completely. It reeked of stale beer and the air was thick with cigarette smoke. I did not find the atmosphere exciting as I'd imagined I would, I found it unpleasant. I figured in my teenaged foolishness that I needed to tolerate it if it was required to be "cool". Obviously wet behind the ears I was spotted as an "easy mark" by one of the regulars. After explaining the "house rules of 8 ball", I was coerced into a game with him and "to make it interesting" I accepted a wager of $10 a game. Using what I now realize is a typical hustler's tactic, he played poorly so that I "won" the first two games handily at which point he asked if I'd "give him a chance to break even" and double the bet. I was at this point that he would begin to play using his genuine skills and beat my ass (and wallet) all over the hall. The problem for him was that although I was a novice at Pool Hall 8 ball, I was technically a better shooter than he was and I continued to win despite his best efforts. Pretty soon he was broke and frustrated and became convinced that I was in fact hustling HIM. Looking at the dirty old clock hanging on the wall I realized that the evening had gotten late and that I'd better be heading for home. I reached down to pick up the stack of bills that I'd won and his hand flew down and grabbed my wrist. "Not so fucking fast kid!" he was almost spitting in his anger. "I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but you don't get away with pulling that kind of shit around here!" I was flabbergasted and I was afraid. I was considerably smaller than this guy and frankly had no idea what I'd done to make him so angry. Obviously the money meant nothing to me but he had no way of knowing that. "Take your hand off that kid Stinny." A figure from the shadow said to my assailant. "You just got a taste of your own bullshit. This kid kicked your ass." The figure walked up and stood next to me. He stood well over six feet tall, a black sleeveless tee shirt stretched over his broad shoulders and his biceps bulged. His whole presence spoke of raw pent up power. "Ok John. Take it easy but I still think this kid's a fuckin hustler." "Takes one to know one Stinny now get the hell out of here before I kick your ass just for the fun of it...and don't let me ever hear about you bustin' his balls when I'm not around hear me? " My former assailant slunk away. "I'm John" He had a wonderful smile and his dark eyes sparkled through the gloom of the smoke filled room as he held out his hand to me. "Eric" I said shaking his hand and smiling back at him. "I watched you Eric... you shoot good where did you learn?" "Oh, we've got a pool table at my house I've been sort of playing since I was little." "It shows. Come-on, shoot a game with me...just for fun... no money.' "I-I really have to call a cab I'm going to be VERY late getting home." "Don't worry. I'll drive you home after we play...just one game." That was the day I learned what a REAL pool shark could do. I shot my best which was pretty good but he sank the 8 ball leaving me with 4 balls still on the table. He smiled and clapped me on the arm. "I was pretty sure I could beat ya. I just wanted to make certain. I had to let everybody see that I'm still the king." His grin was dazzling and the dimples in his cheeks enhanced his already friendly attractive face. "Come on, I'll take you home" he tugged at my elbow. We walked out the back door of the pool hall and out to his car. I could tell from twenty feet away that the sleek black thing was no ordinary Camero. John had "made a few modifications" and once we hit the road they became obvious. He began telling me about things like horsepower and torque and gear ratios...all things that went way over my head. While I may not have understood what he was telling me, I certainly recognized the knowledgeable way he explained the changes he's made to his car and the obvious pride in his voice as he spoke. We talked as he drove and I found myself instantly drawn to this big friendly straightforward guy. He was about five years older than I was and explained he'd been traveling the country looking for something to do and some place to "settle in for a while". He was an ASE Certified Master Automotive Technician who couldn't keep a job because he refused to pad his repairs or recommend work that wasn't needed to customers. "My father taught me to be honest and to earn an honest dollar...no more, no less. So now I make my money playing pool and fixing cars on the side. I charge a fair price for my car work and I shoot my pool straight and honest and you know what Eric...I sleep REAL good at night." He pulled up to the gate and I entered the code and I think about then he was wondering just what kind of person he'd picked up. When the house came into view he let out a whistle. "Holy crap Eric...you work HERE?" "No John, I don't work here, I live here." He hit the brakes and stared at me. "No shit?" "I'm not kidding. Come on and park the car. I'll show you around." Life is fortuitous some times. A week previously our long time driver Mathew had resigned in order to go back east and run his father's hardware store. My father was in the process of interviewing potential replacements but he yet hadn't found anyone who seemed a good fit for the job. On a hunch, I introduced him to John and the two of them talked for quite a while. They hit it off from the very start. At some point John took Dad for a ride in the black Camaro. When they came back they were laughing and Dad was slapping him on the back. By the end of the week John was moving into the big apartment over the garage and he'd been there ever since. Who better to teach Sean how to play pool... and help him learn how to be a decent human being in the process? The fittings at Strothers did not go as quickly or simply as Jacob had anticipated. Too much had gone on in his young life the past few days and it was a chore getting Sean to stand still so that final measurements could be made and marked on the rough tailored garments. Besides the Club Blazer, I had ordered two suits and two sport jackets to be made for the boy just in case we needed them. Poor Albert looked like he was going to keel over from stress as he attempted to make the markings on the garments so they could be taken into the back and completed. Finally finished, he carried the now marked garments into the back muttering softly to himself while Jacob placed a nice "Strothers" vinyl bag over Sean's grey Club Blazer and navy blue trousers. "The other pieces should be ready to pick up by Wednesday Eric..if Albert survives this fitting." He laughed as he walked us to the door. Sean had no idea what we were joking about. We arrived back home just as the Professor was pulling up in his golf cart. We strolled down to the library and I made us each a drink. With these in hand we walked down the far hall and took a different elevator up to the second floor of a seldom used wing off the old part of the house, The second door down the hall opened into the large room that had been my grandfather's personal office back in the days when he ran a good portion of the family enterprise from home. It was large and bright with rich oak paneling on the walls. There was a large desk at one end and an huge oak table in the middle of the room. "What a magnificent space." Dr. Swaim exclaimed. "This will do nicely as a class room and place of exploration." He clapped a huge hand on Sean's shoulder. "We'll meet here Monday morning at 9 AM sharp young man...is that alright?" "Yes professor Swaim that sounds super." The small boy replied as he looked up at the big man. "After supper, get together with Walter and tell him everything you'll need up he professor... computers, supplies, books whatever. He'll have you set up by Monday. Oh, and also tell him to put a case of Glen Fiddich on your cart to take back to the cabin for me. Next time I visit I don't want to have to drink that bourbon of yours." He raised an eyebrow but held his piece. " I assume you'll be staying for dinner...Martha's making pot roast with ginger snap gravy and I've just gotten in a case of a very special Merlot I think you'll like." He let loose with his deep Santa Claus laugh. "Since you asked so nicely, how can I refuse?" As the three of us walked down the hall to the elevator I was thinking; "Monday is going to be a very busy day for this little boy. I'd better come up with something fun for us to do over the weekend." I'd lagged behind. Sean and the Doctor were ahead of me engaged in a lively conversation. I contented myself with watching his little ass wiggle in his white shorts as he walked. (to be continued.) *"In My Life" by Lennon/McCartney Once again, I am so grateful for all of the wonderful email I've been receiving. If you haven't gotten a response from me yet, I promise I'll be getting back to you soon. Next chapter, we're off to the sports club dinner and then...we're going to skip ahead in time a little bit. Don't you skip this opportunity to make a contribution to NIFTY. Thanks