Date: Thu, 05 Nov 2009 12:19:24 -0500
From: hardreader2000@aol.com
Subject: The Further Adevntures of Just & Billy, Chapter 8

The Further Adventures of Justin & Billy
Chapter 8
From Justin's viewpoint

I gotta tell you that even though things around our place had been strained
and strange for the past few weeks, I really wasn't prepared for what I
found when I woke up Sunday morning. Billy lying beside me wasn't much of a
surprise. But what the hell was that stench he was giving off? It must have
been . . .

I bent down to sniff him at close range . . . cum for sure. I could smell
his cum. At least I was pretty sure it was his, which eased my mind. If
he'd smelled of Todd's cum, I don't know what I would have done. And
cigarettes. He smelled of cigarettes. And beer. And B.O. He was vile. Even
for Billy.

I got up and wanted nothing but to get in the shower. Just having slept
beside him made me feel dirty. I guess I'd never heard him when had he come
in. I must have been too sound asleep to be awakened by his stench. Lucky
for him, probably.

I figured I'd just take my shower and head for school and my meeting with
Professor Allen. I was mentally exhausted. By Billy. By Profess
. . . Joe. By everything.

Professor Allen had kept his 10 drawing students in the studio until after
2 a.m. churning out quick sketch assignments. One after the other. I never
understood what the point of it was.

That Sunday, of his 10 students, I was the only one who was headed back to
the studio. But then I was pretty sure I was the only one of the 10 he was
considering to mentor.

As I came out of the bathroom after my shower, I headed toward the kitchen
to make some coffee. And there, asleep on my sofa, was a kid. His face
angelic. He appeared to sleep so peacefully on a pillow from . . . I didn't
know where.

My movement must have penetrated his sleep, because as I walked by, staring
hard at his face and his mop of blond hair, his eyes opened. They were an
amazing blue color that I loved and they were looking up. Right at me.

"You must be Justin," he said without lifting his head. His voice a bit
muted and a little groggy. "I hope it was OK to crash here."

"I don't think I know who you are, or why you are here," I said, trying to
sound stern. But I could hear the uncertainty and apprehension in my words
as they came haltingly from my lips.

"I'm Tom," he said and finally began struggling to get up. He seemed to be
having trouble sitting up. Like maybe he was drunk. Or on drugs. I watched
as he finally, with too much effort, managed to right himself. Sitting
upright. Looking like he would collapse without the sofa back to hold him
there.

"I was out with Billy last night and he had a few too many beers. I brought
him home, drove his car here, because I didn't have a ride. So then I was
here, but didn't want to take his car to go home. Even though he said I
should. I was too tired to argue with him and he was pretty fuckin'
drunk. I just said OK. Once he was in bed next to you, I crashed here."

I don't know why, but I had to know. "Where did you get the pillow?"

"From that closet," he said, pointing, again with some difficulty, toward
the closet where we hung our coats and jackets and shit.

That didn't make any sense, but I wasn't going to argue with this kid. How
old was he anyway? "Are you old enough to drive?"

He gave me a dirty look and said, "I'm 18, buddy. I can drive."

I didn't like how this was going, so I asked if he wanted coffee and headed
on my way, glad when he hollered after me that he didn't want any.

I tried to ignore the kid. At least I hadn't come home to find him in bed
with Billy. When I was ready to leave, I couldn't find my keys and had to
confront the sleeping kid again. "Where did you put my keys?"

"Your keys?" he asked.

"Yeah, that was my car you were driving. Billy's is shot, so I loaned him
mine. There better not be any scratches in it," I said, finally sounding as
menacing as I had hoped to earlier.

"So if your leaving and that's your car, how am I gonna get home?" he said,
fishing through his jeans pockets for the keys. He handed the keys to me
and asked pleadingly, "Are you gonna take me?"

"Not my problem," I said and headed off to school. Billy could deal with
that.

When I got to school, I half expected Professor Allen to be waiting for me
again. But he wasn't. So I just looked around the room. The sketches he'd
pinned up last night with his comments on them were still there. None of
them very positive. Not even the ones on my sketches.

The whole night had been spent on perspective. It had just about driven me
crazy.

Now, waiting for Professor Allen, I was leaning, my butt sideway against a
window ledge, looking out at the little bit of trees and grass this section
of our city-bound campus offered. It was sort of pastoral and pathetic all
at the same time.

I was daydreaming about living a life of luxury with
Billy. Traveling. Meeting interesting
people. Clothes. Cars. Money. Success. Admiration. . . . The words were
appearing on billboards as Billy and I sped by them in our new
Porsche. Just these huge words and our pictures with them on the huge
billboards.

I realized the phone had been ringing in Professor Allen's office. I think
I really noticed it when it finally stopped.

A minute or so later, it started ringing again. I was tempted to see if his
office was open. If so, I could answer the phone for him. But before I
could try the door, the ringing stopped again.

I decided to check his office door anyway. I'm not sure why. I was just
curious whether he kept it locked. I guess I'd never thought about it. I'd
just assumed . . .

The doorknob turned easily in my hand and the heavy oak door with its
frosted glass pane swung open. Its weight evident even as it swung easily
on its heavy hinges. I stood for a minute. Mindlessly staring in. I could
picture him standing there by his desk. So attractive. So virile. So
sexy. I started to move toward this visage of him in my mind when . . .

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Such a very old-fashioned ringing sound. Coming from that
sleek-yet-complicated-looking phone on his desk.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

"Hello?" I said tentatively into the phone, not sure what else I should
say. Or could say. Who would I say I was? Why was I answering the phone? I
almost hung up before anyone could answer me.

"Oh, good, Justin. I'd hoped you'd pick up. So smart of you to figure out
how to answer that thing. I'm running late this morning because last night
ran so late. Can you just come over here instead? It would be a great
assistance to me."

What could I say but . . . "Sure. No problem. Shouldn't be more than a few
minutes. Do you need me to bring anything?"

"How thoughtful. No. I don't . . . Oh, yes, could you pick up some cream or
half and half or whatever it was you liked in your coffee. And maybe a few
bagels and cream cheese. The best are from . . ."

Before he was done, I had to get a paper and pen to write down the series
of little errands he'd given me. I never would have remembered what to get
and where.

"I hate to ask you to hurry, but I am on a tight schedule today. Oh, one
more thing. Do you have a card for an automatic bankteller? I seem to have
misplaced my wallet and I may need some cash."

"Yeah, I do," I said. "Would $20 be enough?"

"Could you make it $75 to be on the safe side?"

"I'll have to get $80 then. I don't think it gives anything but $20s," I
said, really put out and trying to hide it. I didn't have much cash to
withdraw and if I loaned it to him . . . Shit!

* * * * *

When I got to his place with all the stuff he wanted, it was almost an hour
later.

He was in the middle of getting dressed, with a tie and all. He told me to
set up breakfast on the counter. He'd be right there.

About 10 minutes later he came in wearing a suit. As always, he looked
incredible, but I was still pissed at the way he was ordering me around
like hired help.

He sat down at the counter with me and we started to eat. After a few
moments had passed in silence, he said, "I am really sorry about this
morning. It's just gotten completely away from me and I have to leave
shortly. I don't think there is enough time to try to show you anything,
but maybe we could . . ."

He paused and let his suggestion, which he had not even had to put into
words, hang in the air.

I didn't say anything. I didn't know what to say. I thought I knew what he
was suggesting, but what if I was wrong? What if he didn't mean he wanted
to have sex of some sort or other?

The silence hung between us. It was like a dare or something. Who would
yield? Who had the upper hand in this?

Finally he said, "Maybe this week you could help me." He raised his
eyebrows trying to look hopefully optimistic. But instead he just looked
kind of dumb.

I remained silent to his suggestion, whatever it was, for a long time. At
last he gave me this very serious look and tilted his head just so. The
sign was clear. He expected an answer and he expected it to be yes.

"Can I talk to you about dinner with Billy and me first?" I asked, hoping
to move away from his question.

"Yes. Go ahead. Certainly."

"Well, it hasn't been a good week for Billy and me and I haven't asked him
about it yet. I was wondering if I could maybe get back to you on that in a
week or so."

"Have you told Billy of my plans for you? Both of you?" he asked.

"I . . ." I said, stopping almost as soon as I started. I was gong to lie,
but then, after a pause, I said, "No."

"Why?" he asked in sort of a haughty tone. Then, "No. Let me guess. You're
relationship isn't as open as you had suggested it was, is it, Justin?

I paused again. I could feel everything I wanted slipping away. The
tutoring. The introductions. The travel. The opportunities.

I looked at him hard. Trying to see inside his head. I couldn't. At last, I
said, "No. It's not. But if I can talk to him, I think that can
change. Once he understands."

"So you'd like another week? It's yours. Take a week if you need it. Take
two. But I'll need your answer then."

"Thanks so much. I mean that's really understanding of you."

"No problem," he said. And then in the same business-like voice, he added,
"And now, I need a hand from you. Can you get me off, please? Without
getting any on my suit, if you don't mind."

How could he be this way? He knew I was struggling with Billy and the
balance of our relationship. I'd made that clear. Hadn't I?

So how could he ask this? My heart sank.

I had only two choices. I could say "yes" and almost guarantee that I would
lose Billy before this was over. Or I could say "no" and almost guarantee
that I would lose everything that I wanted in this world in terms of
success, recognition, and fulfillment. I could have everything. Or I could
have Billy.

I thought about that for what seemed like days, but could not have been
more than a second or two at most.

I thought about what I had already done. With Billy. Jess. Ted. Phil and
Todd and on and on. How different was this really? The guy just wants me to
jerk him off. What harm is there in that?

I thought about how hard my life with Billy had been these past months. How
nothing seemed to be good enough to make him happy.

I thought of Billy. Pictured him perfectly before me. And then looked back
up at Joe. I had my answer as fast as that. I gave Joe a smile that would
give the pope a hard-on. Then I reached out my hand and cupped his
crotch. He smiled. Until I told him the only answer that made any sense to
me just then.

"I'm sorry, but I can't. I really want to make this work with you. And I
really think it can. I think I can be the person you're looking for. But I
need time just now."


"Let me get this straight," he said in a perfectly calm voice, like he was
making sure he had heard the time of day correctly, "you are telling me you
won't help me ejaculate . . . or jerk off or whatever you call it?"

"Yes, sir," I said, uncertainty shaking my voice as I tried to sound
resolved.

He straightened his tie and wriggled his shoulders in his suit jacket. He
turned to leave. As he opened the door, he paused and said, "Please lock up
when you let yourself out. We'll talk tomorrow."

To Be Continued . . .

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the second book in the "I Thought I Knew" series. It
is not necessary to read the books in order, although Book 1
chronologically precedes this book. It can be found under the title "I
Thought I Knew" in the High School section.
/nifty/gay/highschool/i-thought-i-knew/

The characters in this project are real. The names and some other
identifying information in this story have been changed to conceal the
identities of the characters described. The Copyright for this story is
held by Hardreader. The story may not be reprinted or distributed elsewhere
in print, electronically or digitally without the permission of the author.

I would love to receive comments on this story from readers.  Email me at
hardreader2000@aol.com

While you're waiting for the next episode, I hope you'll stay happy. And
stay hard! -- H.R.