Date: Sun, 24 Jul 2005 22:04:13 -0500
From: kenlou16 <kenlou16@yahoo.com>
Subject: Nudist Camp Vacation - Chapter 15

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The usual stuff applies.  This chapter and all the chapters before it are
Copyright 2005, by Ken.  Please don't read it if it isn't legal for you to
do so.  If you don't like reading about gay stuff, then what on earth are
you doing reading this?

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I've finished reading "Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince."  What an
ending!  It was completely unexpected!  Now, on to "Nudist Camp Vacation."
I know you all thought things were about to wrap up, but it's just not in
the cards.

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Live simply, love generously, care deeply and speak kindly.  Leave the rest
to God.

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FROM THE END OF CHAPTER 14:

I looked at Tim.  He wasn't analyzing the situation.  Again I pointed.
"What do you see just beyond those trees?"

He strained to see.  "Ahhhh!  It's the back of my house!"

"Yes!  If I don't miss my guess, I'd say this is where the kidnappers
parked their car."

Carefully, we stepped closer to the tracks.

"The tracks were made by narrow tires.  That means the car must have been
small."  I followed the tracks with my eyes.  I could see where the car had
left the road, where it had stopped, and where it had pulled away.  "Look,
Tim!  When they pulled back onto the road, they continued in that
direction.  AWAY from the highway!"

As I looked down the road, Tim gasped!  He was looking at something on the
other side of the tire tracks.

"What is it?  What do you see?"

He pointed.  I couldn't tell what he was looking at.  Gingerly, we stepped
over the tire tracks.  He pointed at the tall grass, afraid to touch it.  I
looked closer.  There on the thin blades of grass was something thick and
red.  I knew what Tim was thinking, and I'm sure he's right.  It must be
blood!

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Nudist Camp Vacation CHAPTER 15

The hair went up on the back of my neck!  Either Stevey or Paul must be
hurt!  First the bloody towel on the bed, now this!  All the stories about
abducted kids started flooding back to my memory.  The thing that kept
coming back to my mind, no matter how hard I tried to suppress it, was that
we had to find them quickly!  The longer they went missing, the more likely
it was that they would come to harm.  I didn't want to think about it, but
it was all that filled my mind.

I looked more closely at the dirt around the bloody grass.  There were a
lot of footprints, but I realized I wasn't experienced enough to be able to
tell how many tracks there were.  It was time to call Frank.

I pulled out my cell phone and punched Frank's "quick dial" number.  It
rang a couple of times before he answered.

"Alan!  I don't have anything to tell you!  Sorry."

I heard deep voices talking low in the background.  "Frank, I called
because I have something for you.  Tim and I are at the Camp.  Actually,
we're on the road outside the Camp.  I think we found where the kidnappers
parked their car."

"I'll be right there!"

"Frank!  There's more!"

"What?  I'm listening."

"Tim saw a bloody towel on Stevey's bed."

"Oh, my God!" he breathed.

"That's not all.  We found what I think is fresh blood on some tall grass
next to where the car was parked.  How quickly can you get here?"

"Just a minute."  He put his hand over the phone, but I heard low
murmuring.

"We can be there in about forty-five minutes."

He had my curiosity.  "Where are you?"

"Can't say.  I'm at a friend's place.  I've got some old friends who're
gonna help.  I'll call you when we get close.  What car are you driving?"

"The Suburban."

"The ARMORED Suburban?"

"Yeah!  That's the one!

"Good!  That might come in handy.  We'll meet you there."

"Gotcha!"  This time, I hung up first.

I looked at Tim.  "Frank's coming and he's bringing some of his friends."

His eyes got wide.  "`Friends'?"

I shrugged.  "That's what he said.  I'm guessing we'll be quite pleased
about it, or Frank wouldn't trust them to be involved."  I looked again at
the tire tracks, trying to commit the tire pattern to memory.  Then I
looked closely at the path they took to the pavement.  It looked like they
threw some dirt as they accelerated away.

I looked at Tim.  He was looking at the tracks, too.  "We've got to find
the boys quickly."

Tim looked at me puzzled.  "Why?  What happens if we don't?"

I took a nervous breath.  To voice my fears would be to give them validity,
but I decided that I'd better tell Tim my thoughts, anyway.  No more
secrets!

"If an entire day goes by without finding them, their chances won't be as
good."

"What do you mean, `their chances'?"

Tim was pressing me to say all of it.  I hesitated as I looked deeply into
his eyes.  I said in a low voice, "Their chances of survival."

Tim gasped and put his hand to his mouth.  Muffled by his hand he said,
"NO!  Stevey's gonna be okay, isn't he?"

I took him in my arms and consoled him.  "He will be if we can find him
quickly," I said, hopefully.  I relaxed my hold on Tim and looked into his
eyes.  They were clouding up.  I helped him to the car and put him in, then
walked around to the driver's side and climbed in, myself.

I backed the Suburban up the road and pulled onto the shoulder well behind
the car tracks.  Tim and I waited.  And waited.  And waited.

If you've ever been under stress and had to wait, you know that the waiting
is interminable!  That's when the hands of the clock seem to move slower.
Seconds turn to minutes and minutes to hours.

Finally, about 43 minutes and fifty-one seconds later, what appeared to be
an armada of four-wheel-drive trucks, some painted in camouflage, came up
the road, led by a black Suburban.  I recognized the Suburban to be
Frank's.  It was very similar to mine, but his wasn't armored.

When they got close, the entire convoy pulled over behind us.  If anyone
were watching, there would be no mistaking that something big was going on.
I thought to myself that either it looked like a major assault of hunters
on a few Bambi look-alikes, there was a helluva redneck barbeque up the
road, or an armed insurrection was underway.  Since it wasn't hunting
season and this wasn't just another redneck barbeque, I wondered what
country they were about to conquer.  I just hoped they were all on our
side.

Tim and I climbed out of the car and so did everyone in the convoy.  When
we approached Frank, I said in a low voice, "Holy Jesus, Frank!  I knew you
had friends, but WOW!"  I was completely and seriously impressed.

Frank didn't acknowledge my comment.  He scowled.  "Where're these tracks?"

Taken aback by the gravity of his serious attitude, I led him to the
tracks.  Tim was right beside me.  "See, they start over there, they
stopped here, and they got back on the road there.  Over here is the . . ."

"Yeah, I see it," he breathed.  His brow wrinkled.  He was as worried as
Tim and me.  He looked up the road then back at the tracks.  I saw him
gauge the width of the car from the tracks, and then he looked closely at
the tread.

"It's a small car, likely foreign.  The tread's different on the two rear
tires.  They probably don't keep the car very well maintained.  It's
probably banged up.  Judging from the stains on the grass, there's probably
some blood in the car. . . ."  He trailed off.  After a moment of thinking,
he said, "The only thing we don't have is a license number."  He looked
down the road.  "They've had a serious head start.  We'd better get
cracking."

Frank went back to his friends who gathered around him.  I heard him relate
what he just told Tim and me.  They scurried back to their trucks and drove
past us down the road, Frank in the lead.

Tim and I watched as they disappeared around a bend in the road.  I looked
at Tim in disbelief.  Had that really just happened?  Had an armed
vigilante group just taken up the cause of looking for our boys?  Suddenly,
it felt like we had our own private army, and they were determined to
rescue Stevey and Paul!

Tears came to my eyes as I envisioned those helpless, tender boys in the
hands of who-knows-what kind of monster.  I took a deep breath, let it out
slowly, and discovered that Tim was watching me.  He had a look of deep
dread in his eyes and he seemed to be looking to me for answers.  I didn't
have any.  We may have been thinking the same thing.  I tried to talk, but
there was a catch in my throat.  I motioned to the car and Tim nodded.

I didn't think it wise to tell Rita and Tom about what we'd found, so I
drove back toward the house.  As we wound down the road to the highway,
something odd occurred to me.  Why hadn't the cops looked for and found the
tracks?  Why had they not seen the blood?  Maybe they had, I don't know.
I'll probably never know.

When we got back to the house, Nell was pacing in the kitchen with her arms
folded over her chest.  "WHERE have you been?" she demanded.  "I've been
slaving over a hot stove and you two take off for a joy ride!"

Her scowl softened when she saw the looks on our faces.

"I had an inspiration about Stevey and Paul.  We had to go check it out.
I'm sorry we're late."

Her expression changed immediately to concern.  She said softly, "Go get
cleaned up.  Your supper'll be ready in a minute."

I kissed her on the temple before I led Tim to the downstairs powder room
where we washed our hands.  I splashed some water on my face, hoping to
rinse away the knot in my gut.  To say the least, it didn't work.

Nell was in the kitchen serving up her concoctions.  I led Tim to the
dining room where I saw that Nell had opened a chilled bottle of my
favorite Merlot.  Call me weird, but I like it lightly chilled.  Texas
summers are just too warm for "room temperature" wine.  I poured two
glasses.

Tim looked up at me.  "Can I have a glass?"

I looked at him, smiled, and spoke in a low voice.  "One of these is yours.
Nell doesn't drink.  Besides, she's only set two places.  I think she
intends for this to be just for us."  I handed him a glass then took mine
and clinked his glass, gently.  I love the way crystal rings!

After we sipped, I pointed him to a seat.  Once seated, I felt a need to
explain a little bit about the household.  "After Robert . . ."  Not a good
start!  I started choking up!  I cleared my throat and began again.  "Nell
is like a mother to me.  Over the last three years, she's been sharing
dinner with me.  I hate eating alone.  But now, she'll probably let us eat
by ourselves."

Tim thought a moment.  "What about Nell?  Won't she be lonely, eating
alone?"

I smiled as I looked into that loving face.  "I was hoping you'd say that."
I walked into the kitchen and found the plate and silver Nell had set at
the small breakfast table for her own supper.  I grabbed it noisily and
began to walk toward the dining room.

As I approached the door, I looked back at her over my shoulder and smiled.
She had a smirk on her face.  "Uh, huh," she said.  That was all she needed
to say.  I knew her well enough to know that she understood nothing between
us would change with Tim joining the household.  The fact that she smirked
let me know she appreciated that fact.  Nothing more need be said.

I set her place on the other side of mine.  She and Tim would be facing
each other, with me at the end.  I know I'm weird, but I like being
surrounded by the people who mean the most to me.  These two mean
EVERYTHING to me!

A few moments later, I had drained my glass of wine and poured myself
another.  I felt more relaxed, but the wine didn't completely erase the
sinking feeling of worry that filled me.  Tim sipped his wine, but I don't
think he liked the taste of it.  Although, he was probably even more
worried about his brother than I was.

Directly, Nell brought in a nice chilled garden salad and a large bowl of
homemade spaghetti.  She went back to the kitchen and brought in her
special cucumber dressing and a plate of sourdough bread.  When she sat
down, she looked over at Tim and said, "Nice view!"

He glanced up and actually looked around behind him.  When he turned back
to see that Nell was looking directly at him with that obvious smirk on her
face, he smiled and blushed!

Nell leaned toward me and said in a stage whisper, "He's even pretty when
he blushes!"

I thought Tim's face was about to pop like a gluttonous tick!  I laughed to
try to break the tension of his embarrassment.  "Nell!  Tim's new here!"
Then I turned to Tim and said, "I should have warned you about Nell.  She's
incorrigible!"

Tim laughed through his embarrassment.  "I've never felt more welcome!"
His face was still red, although it was difficult to make out just how red
it was because of his tan.

"Tim grew up at a nudist resort," I said, matter-of-factly.

Nell's eyebrows rose over her lewd smile.  "Reallllly?"

"Yes," I said casually, not responding to her lascivious tone.  "Would you
mind if Tim and I went nude once in a while?"

She registered surprise.  "Can I watch?"  She was looking at Tim.

Tim looked at me nervously as I grinned at him, too.

Then she added, "Just don't expect ME to run around here in my birthday
suit!"

"Don't worry about that!  You can if you want, but you don't have to.  But,
it'll be hard for you not to see us, now and then.  I'm thinking about
putting in a pool.  How would you like that, Tim?"

"That'd be nice, but I thought you HAD a pool.  What's that on the other
side of the hedge in the back yard?"

"Oh, that's just a fountain and fish pond in the garden.  Actually, that's
where I thought I'd put the pool.  There's a deck with a hot tub just
outside our bedroom, and there's a stair down to the back garden from the
deck.  The pool would be just a few more steps away.  That area's protected
by a big hedge on one side and the neighbor's huge pasture on the other.
It'd be good and private."

His reaction was subdued.  "That'd be nice," he repeated.  He had dished up
a small salad and a small serving of spaghetti.  He was slowly stirring it
with his fork.  I saw his eyes cloud up and his chest started to heave.

I fell to my knees at his side and he grabbed me, desperately, sobbing.
"I'm . . . sorry!  I'm just . . . worried about . . . Stevey!"

I rubbed his back and tried to coo into his ear through my own tears.
"He'll be all right!" I whispered.  "I don't know how I know it, but I know
he'll be fine!  Paul, too!"  I looked over at Nell who looked miserable,
herself.

Tim took several deep breaths, trying to gain control of his torrent of
tears.  I brought out my handkerchief as Tim wiped his eyes and blew his
nose.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.  He looked at Nell.  "Stevey's the only brother
I've got.  We're really close.  Stevey and his friend, Paul, were kidnapped
earlier today.  There was a bloody towel on his bed and more blood in the
dirt close to where the kidnapper's car was.  Frank and his paramilitary
friends are looking for him, but I don't think they'll have any luck."

Nell listened intently and sniffled.

"Nell, I'm sorry, but we're just not hungry."

She brought a tissue out of hiding and softly blew her nose.  "Don't worry
about a thing.  The spaghetti'll keep.  It's always better the next day,
anyway."

"Thanks," I said, as I led Tim out of the dining room.

I led him to the entertainment room where I thought it'd be nice to watch a
movie to get his mind off things.  I put on "I, Robot."  Half way through
the movie, Tim said, "This isn't helping.  I keep thinking of the robot
like Stevey.  He was always following me around and trying to help me, even
if he wasn't."

After I turned off the movie, he whispered, "Alan, I don't know what I'll
do if anything happens to Stevey."

All I could do was hold him.  I couldn't think of anything to say.

After several minutes, he said, "Let's go to bed."

It's only because I'm a dirty old man that I misinterpreted his comment.  I
looked at him and raised my eyebrows, a bit surprised that he'd be thinking
about sex.  Fortunately (I think), Tim understood my faux pas and said,
"No, not tonight.  Just sleep."

His nose was still quite stuffy.  I wasn't sure if either one of us could
sleep, but I was following his lead.

We went upstairs and did our evening ablutions.  When I crawled under the
covers, Tim was already there laying on his side with his back to me.

I needed to be close to him, so I lay my naked body against his, spooning
him.  He didn't move, so I fell asleep with the scent of his hair reminding
me of our evening on the boat.

We both slept fitfully.  I drifted in and out of sleep.  At times, I
thought I heard Tim moaning in his sleep.

The next morning, I reached to his side of the bed and felt nothing.  It
wasn't even warm.  I sat up and looked around the room.  He wasn't there.
Then I saw that the curtains had been slightly drawn back at the door to
the deck.

Worried, and I'll admit, with a bit of panic, I jumped out of bed, ran to
the door, and looked out.  I saw a nude Tim sitting on a bench looking into
the fish pond in the pink glow of the early morning light.  He looked like
a living, breathing garden statue.  His incredible beauty is still
something I haven't gotten used to.

He was throwing bits of twig into the water, watching the fish scurry
about.  I sighed in relief as I opened the door and tiptoed, nude and
barefoot, to the garden.  He saw me approaching and didn't change his
expression.  He was miserable.

"Hi," I whispered over his sad silence.

After a pause and couple more pieces of twig, he said, "Hi."

I could tell his emotions were on edge.  "Do you want me to leave you
alone?"

"No."

"Are you alright?"

"No."

"You're worried about Stevey."

He took a halting breath.  "Yeah."

I sat down on the bench next to him and watched the fish.  They would jump
every time a piece of twig hit the water.  It would have been amusing if
there hadn't been an enormous dark cloud hanging over us.

After what seemed like many minutes, Tim whispered, "Alan, you've been so
good to me.  I enjoyed the last two days, before . . ."

I looked at him.  He was still looking at the pond.  I was getting an
uneasy feeling.

"But, I think it was probably too much, too fast.  I need to think."

An invisible hand grabbed my throat and squeezed.  In the silence that
followed, I took several deep breaths, trying to control my emotions.  When
I thought I had finally gained control of my voice, I cleared my throat and
whispered, "If it's the money, I'll give it all away."  I know how
desperate that sounded, but it was honest!

He looked at me with red, swollen eyes.  "I don't give a damn about your
money!  I've got money, too!  When my grandparents died, they left us all
with big pots of money!  That's how my folks bought the nudist camp.  They
bought me my Mustang and put me through college.  I can't touch my trust
fund for another year, but it'll be a lot, by the sound of it.  I don't
need your money!"

"Tim, I never thought you did."

We sat there through another strained silence.  I was dying inside.
Finally, Tim said, "I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to say anything about your
money.  Can you take me to get my car?"

"Yes," I choked.

I had finally opened my heart again and had lost another.  At least Tim
hadn't died a violent death.  I knew he was young and emotionally immature,
but he seemed to want me so much.  I didn't know what to do.  Only one
thing came to mind.  It was a bit of wisdom I had learned a good many years
ago:

The tie you have to a person is like a handful of sand.  If you hold it
tight, the sand drains between your fingers and soon, you have nothing
left.  But, if you hold it loosely, you can hold it indefinitely.  I
decided it would be a mistake to pressure him to stay.

We put on clothes without a word.  I don't think either one of us knew what
to say.  He gathered up his things and stuffed them back into his bags.  I
watched him in stunned disbelief.  He never looked at me.

We went to the garage and loaded his things into the Suburban.  I must have
felt as if I needed the armor around me.  When we got to the parking lot at
the office next to his Mustang, he was about to climb out as I said, "Tim!"

He looked at me, his eyes still swollen and bloodshot.

"Tim, I want you to know that I love you.  I'll always love you."  Okay, so
much for not pressuring him!

He nodded and began to cry as he jumped out.  He grabbed his stuff out of
the back seat and slammed the door.  I waited several minutes until he
started his car and slowly drove away, and then I waited several minutes
more.  I soaked several tissues as I cried my eyes out.  It was time to
mourn once more.

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To be continued . . . .

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Please write to me!  - kenlou16@yahoo.com