Copyright © 2012 - 2014 by Joe Writerman and the Revolutions Universe Partnership.
All Rights Reserved
Wednesday, October 17, 2012, Continued
Mom, previously standing by the doors leading into and out of the hotel, walked over to us. We were still sitting near the curb. Dad stood, turned to Mom, and started to say, "Regina, we…"
"Dale, I'm not going to talk about this here. We will go up to our room and discuss this like adults." She looked down into my eyes, "You will come with us. This is not over."
Melissa looked into my eyes. She nodded, saying, "Mrs. Wilson, I'm with Bradley. Wherever he goes, I go."
Angrily, spitting her words, Mom spouted, "This is a family matter. You are not family. You are not a good Christian girl like I thought you were. We will buy your ticket back to your parents. What you do after that is totally up to you. Meanwhile do what you need to do, but stay away from my son, do you hear me?"
Melissa looked into my eyes. Her expression was very nearly the same as I had just felt, when, when… then, without warning, she said to mom, "That's fine. But I'll be damned if I'll let you trash talk your son. I…"
Dad stopped whatever words were about to exit her mouth, her soul. At the same time, suddenly feeling a determined strength enter and flow through my veins… Dad said, "Bradley, Melissa, I'm going to handle this. Do either of you have your cell phones on you?"
I reached into my pocket, pulled the phone out. My hand went to my right rear pocket to find my wallet, but remembered that it was lying on the bathroom vanity, "Yeah, I do. Uhm, my money is in our room…"
Mom wasn't finished, "Dale, that room is no longer theirs. I will not have my son fornicating under my nose. I cannot knowingly permit him to do it." She reached for my cell phone, "You don't need that. You are grounded."
I looked at her in utter and complete disbelief. She's the one that insisted that I have and use one.
She still wasn't done. Turning to Melissa, "Young lady, that room is no longer "ours". If you want to stay there, you will pay for it. Meanwhile, I will call your mother… we suspected that you and Bradley were more of an item than you purported to be…"
"No. Mom, don't talk to Melissa like that." I said, my anger rising very quickly. The feelings were new. I'd not ever been that angry before. I knew I needed to keep my mouth closed before I really got into trouble, yet I took hold of Melissa's hand, and with a heavy heart, said to Mom's outrage, "I love you, Mom. I love Dad. I love Melissa. Melissa and I are going to get married after graduation. We'll be eighteen then, so you can't stop us."
Mom turned, glared into my eyes, stabbing my heart, "You can't even keep a job."
Anger took hold, I shot back, disrespectfully, "I can't keep a job because every job I've ever had does not meet your demands. All of them have… let's see… the job at the Casey's is all wrong because they hire gay people. The job at the Snack Shack is all wrong because it is owned and operated by people of a different faith – Muslim. This is just crazy. I couldn't even get a job selling popcorn on a street corner, working for myself… because you would find something wrong with it." Turning to Dad, "Dad, you said things are going to change… well, I'm going to get a job when we get back home. I want HER off of my back so that I can get one and KEEP it. This has to stop, Dad. I'm not going to put up with anymore of that Church shit… they're a bunch of whack jobs." Turning back to Mom, with my anger rising to a new level, I nearly shouted, "I will work. Stay out of my way. You say that I don't work… well, look at your own crap. When was the last time you worked, huh?"
Mom's insistence turned to rage. She walked to me and slapped my cheek, hard. It stung. I'd never ever been slapped in my entire life. Before I did something that I would later regret, even though it seemed just right to meet the current circumstance, I looked to Melissa, took hold of her hand, and then we took off running down the sidewalk toward a damn crosswalk. A lull in traffic permitted us safe passage to the other side, and we did not stop running until we'd reached an area of the beach that was more or less quiet and secluded; at least there weren't thousands of tourists all around.
I could have ran for miles and miles and miles, but Melissa stopped to pick up a small white shell on the beach. She held it out and said, "Bradley, let's stop running. If we don't stop now… we'll always be running away from something. Your mother didn't offend me. I pity her. Come here, Baby. We're going to be okay. I'll call my parents tonight. You can probably live with us. Mom knows that you and me are close, very close. She's the one that suggested that I get on birth control. She took me to the appointment, so that says something about their acceptance of you and me. Let's just sit down."
With that said, she took me into her arms, kissed my lips very serenely, gently and meaningfully. I helped her to sit down, and then together we looked out over the ocean seeing and feeling its mighty strength.
Jawad grinned, and said, "Good. Now let's have some fun. You're a child… fun comes naturally. I have a new game for you to play. Now don't move. Just sit right there like a good little boy." He touched the sharp knife to the rim of my right nostril. The expression on his face said, "Move. I dare you."
I barely breathed. I was concentrating on the sharp object so close to that sensitive tissue. I prayed that he didn't sneeze. All the while, he had this evil grin crossing his face. He was daring me to move. I sat still like a statue. I would sit there for the rest of the night, if need be. I would do anything, and I mean any and everything, to be able to see my Jordan. My body shuddered, or at least it felt like it did, at thinking of what Jordan had been through earlier today, but he made it through all of it.
I don't know how long we sat there, him daring me to twitch a muscle. I didn't move. Not one bit, not even when my ear itched. I thought it was going to drive me absolutely nuts, but somehow maintained my composure. I wasn't afraid that he'd cut me. I knew if he was going to cut me, then he was going to and there was nothing I could do about it. Most of the time I stared straight ahead. I honed in on a paint blemish on the trim around the entry way to the bathroom. When he would move so that his face was in front of my vision, I'd just turn my eyes away. He was playing games with my head. Two can play that game. I knew he was, and he wasn't having very much fun because I wasn't really playing with him, instead I was wearing him down. Sooner or later he'd made his move. At the same time, I really didn't think he would actually cut me. They had other plans for me, and that did not include 'that' kind of injury. This sounds silly, but they had actually gone out of their way to keep us from bleeding. One of the things the scoutmasters taught us about wild animals is to not act afraid of them. I realized I was doing the very same exact thing that they taught us to – Jawad.
It's a dangerous game. And I'd never before put the instructions to use, simply because I never had a reason to… so my ability to play him out was surprising to me.
The stakes then went higher. He began scraping that mound of tissue inside of my nose. Instinctively I raised my head just a little bit to get away from the feel of metal touching that sensitive area. He responded by putting his hand on the back of my head to hold me steady. He then extracted the knife, held it up and showed me the booger on the very tip. The substance had a slight red tinge to it. While he was holding the knife up and out for me to see, I cleared my throat and came up with a mouth full of phlegm. Oh how I wanted to spray him with it… he didn't know how much… but I wasn't about to test my luck, not with the crazed look in his eyes.
Obediently, I stood. The problem with standing was that he was eye level to my personal areas. I brought my arms around forward and reached my hands to cover myself. I was in no danger of getting excited in that manner… I just didn't want him to get excited at seeing me, that which was in front of his eyes.
"Turn around very, very slowly. Don't you dare do anything you will regret. My buddy here will slice you in half. Start turning."
I turned. When I was facing the toilet, his hand pushed my upper back forward to the point where I had to place my hands on the tank to keep from falling over. He took in a deep breath and swallowed hard. "You have a nice butt. Admirable. Tell me…"
It was then that I felt him part my cheeks, and immediately I felt the blade tip touching those most sensitive tissues. The tip was incredibly sharp. I moved forward just a little bit to try and get away from it. "Tell you what, Sir?"
"Tell me… tell me… tell me…" He laughed. Thankfully, he took the blade away, but not very far. I then felt it lay flat against my right cheek, then he separated my cheeks with both his hands, spreading me fully apart, exposing everything I have to his sick eyes and demented mind. "Tell me, tell me Luke, have you had a penis in your butt?" When I hesitated, the knife left my cheek and slid back to where I didn't want it to be – the point was poking my very tender tissues to the point where I thought he would slice through them.
"That's not what our Patriarch said. He said you were very loose… like you've been penetrated… with a penis… are you sure, Luke? Our Patriarch isn't known to be a liar. Are you calling our Patriarch a liar?"
"No. I am just able to relax… you know, when you relax to uhm… you know… that's all."
"Oh… well do you want to?"
"Do I want to 'what'?" I asked very seriously, knowing what he was asking me, but not wanting to go there.
"Well, let's just try something… let's see if you can relax… don't squeeze down, Dear Luke. If you do, we will have one serious mess on our hands, now won't we?"
A violent shiver threatened to run up and down my back, but somehow, thankfully the shudder didn't happen, but the point of the knife made its presence even more noticeable. Against everything good in this entire world, I bent over forward just a little more, closed my eyes, gently pushed down against my back door and willed myself to relax. The stakes were higher, but I took my mind to when Jordan opened me fully and completely with his maleness. I got myself into the place where he was inside of me. My voice surprised me, "Sir, if I open up, will you please just do what you want to do very quickly because I don't think I can hold it?"
"I'll do what I want to do, when I want to, because you see I ask the questions, not you. How fast or slow… is totally up to you. I've got all night. We might as well have some fun, don't you think?"
"Yes, Sir." I said, then felt his finger gliding around my opening, and then it went inside after he put some very slick substances on it. First one finger, then another, then with some difficulty… another, and then I felt something very hard and unforgiving pushing against exposed tissues between his fingers… realizing, now knowing what that was, I forced myself to relax. One by one, very slowly, very methodically, very stealthily, the last one exited, but that cold hard steel remained. I dared not twitch or move in any way, knowing what was there waiting for me to clamp down… '"Jordan, I'm doing this for you. I love you. You are my life."'
They broke me. I became willing to do anything and everything they asked or demanded.
He continued goading me, telling me I was nothing more than a slut fuck, unworthy of anyone's love, even my brother's… he even began running his hand over my butt cheeks, moving them toward the valley of darkness, and he would occasionally pinch my skin… I would simply take a deep breath and will myself to remain relaxed, no matter what. He would move the blade just a little bit. I knew what he was doing, he was trying to make me flinch, but I didn't. I was doing okay under the circumstances… I knew he had me, and he knew that I knew. Then the ante was raised exponentially. He reached around, running his fingers across my thigh and groin until he reached my flesh. While I was soft, totally soft, he began brushing my flesh with his fingers, causing my muscles down south of the border and north of my knees to twitch, then he touched the end of my flesh, in that most sensitive area and ran his finger across it. I willed myself to not flinch, instead I bit on my tongue and pushed down against my back door, hoping against all hope that I could drop a load into his hand, but it wasn't meant to be. Instead, I felt his hand go away from my butt.
He held up the knife so that I could see it… was he putting it up in my face as if it were a trophy? The evil grin on his face told me that it was indeed a trophy, a prized possession. Then he gloated, "That's good, Luke. You really ought to be a sword swallower." He broke up into laughter.
Still laughing, he folded the knife, stood up, pushed it down in his pants pocket, took hold of my hair, wrenched my neck so that I had no choice but to look into his eyes, which were boring holes into my soul. I've never seen so much evil in one person in all of my life. Not even Jordan's Mother showed the terror-giving look that emanated from his eyes and into my soul.
I dared not move, even when he released my hair, even when I heard his clothes hit the floor – I stood still, unmoving, afraid to do anything.
I dared not move when he jerked my head so that I was looking straight on into the mirror, seeing his eyes blazing with… what?
And then it happened… he touched me, back there, with his fully extended member. I willed myself to relax, to permit his entry, to permit him to do whatever he wanted to do, because I was his, as he was reminding me just about each and every second. Instead of doing 'that', he ran his elongation up and down and between my cheeks, stopping only to put the end of his against my back door and pushing slightly, but not hard enough to enter. When he left the spot and ran his rod up against my tail bone, I willed myself to contract that which needed contracting… to hopefully keep him outside of my insides. He didn't return to my opening.
"You do realize that I could and still can have you and do whatever I want to, don't you, right?" The man said brazenly, assuredly.
"That's the right answer. Come on, let's go take a shower."
Obediently, I turned and headed into the shower. He jerked me by the hair so hard that I fell on the granite tiled floor, at which time he stepped over me, then glared into my eyes while saying, "I go first. You follow. Respect your elders. When was the last time you were told to honor your parents?"
I so wanted to tell him that he ain't my… anything.
He reached to the vanity, grabbed the knife, flipped it open, put it against my cheek and pressed just enough for me to know that he was there, and that without hesitation would slice my face. Instinctively, I closed my eyes when he moved the knife there, and then felt him shave off my eyelashes, or at least it felt like it.
"Open your eyes."
Obediently, I opened them. The knife was right in front of my right eyeball, then he pulled it away and sheathed its blade. He then grabbed hold of my wrist and pulled me up to stand and face him.
"You're no fun, Luke. Patriarch will be very pleased with your obedience." He then shoved me into the shower, under a spigot, turned on the water, which was ice cold until it warmed up, and then it was hot, hotter than my normal showers, but not scalding. "You have five minutes, starting now."
Without delay, I began washing my body with the shower soap on the little shower shelf. He watched me every step of the way, not even looking down when he took the shampoo to soap up his genitals. When I got down to the essentials, I looked into his eyes, asking for permission to wash that which designates me male. He nodded. I willed myself to stay soft, so matter what.
"Turn around. Face the wall. Do not say a word. Do not scream." Jawad said very softly, very low, yet firmly. I turned away, tightly clenched my cheeks together waiting for, knowing that he was going to have his way, and I was going to give it to him. '"I love you, Jordan. I'm sorry.'
Instead of doing what I thought he was doing to do, his hands went up and down my back, and deep into the valley that I had freely given Jordan whenever he wanted it, and now Jawad. He parted my globes, ran his fingers deep down inside… I knew what was next… I couldn't stop myself… I willed with everything I had in me to relax, to take it in stride, and hope that he would leave me alone afterward.
Just as I expected, I felt the tip of his penis push very firmly against my relaxed sphincter. At the very last second, before he penetrated, I said, "Patriarch is my Lord and Savior, there is nothing I shall want, I will give him everything. Would he willingly follow you, Jawad, Sir, Master? Would he want to waddle in your sperms?"
Brazenly, my skin soapy and slick, I broke from his grasp, turned to face him, and said, "Would Patriarch approve of your taking my innocence? Would he like having your sperms on his organ? What would happen if you inserted your male sinner into me, which might cause me to turn his organ brown? Would he like it?"
Jawad's angry, determined and lust filled demeanor shifted as if a light was turned on in an otherwise dark room. "And would he approve of you cutting my eyeballs out, or slicing my rectum so that he could not enter? Would he?"
When he didn't say anything, I rinsed off, all the while keeping my eyes open, even with the soap running through them, and then, finished, I walked right past him and into the main bathroom, grabbed a towel and quickly dried myself.
The man roared to life. He was out of that shower room in a heartbeat just as I reached for the door knob to get out of there, to get my Jordan, and to get the hell out of that house, that property, and that freaking town.
I'd let my guard down just long enough for him to smash his body weight against my being, into the door. I crumpled to the ground, dazed and darkened with ringing in my ears.
He grabbed my wet hair, led me to the bed, threw me onto it, brought up my legs over my head and then jammed his penis hard against my sensitive tissues and pushed hard. The only thing that had worked before worked again; the only thing different was that I was in a position to fight back, somewhat.
When the head of his thing broke the plane, I was capable of doing two things. One, I relaxed just enough for him to permit him entry, and then, two, when he was inside, I tensed up, brought my right leg back, and unknowing to him, I rammed the ball of my foot into his neck, and at the same time jerked my body so that his thing came tearing out of that confined and unwilling place of my body.
He went to the floor, attempting to scream and cry, but nothing was coming out of his mouth.
It was now or never.
Not caring that I was naked, I only did a quick 'look see' for some clothes. There were none to be seen. I ran into the bathroom, grabbed the first towel lying on the floor, and then, without even bothering to put it on right then and there, I ran to the door, opened it and quickly made my way into the hallway, wrapped the towel around my lower regions, then made it into the kitchen, but was stopped dead cold by Katy grabbing my hair and twisting it painfully, sending me to the floor before her.
She let go of my hair. "You are going nowhere. Patriarch shall be apprised of your attempt to escape. You will receive just and rewarded obedience training. You are subservient, young Luke. You will obey. Once you obey, you will be treated to a similar degree of respect that you give. Now, stand, remain quiet, and follow me to see our Patriarch, Lord and Savior."
When I stood, she jerked the towel away, leaving me standing in front of her naked. She ran her hands down my stomach and into my pubic area, and then touched my penis, held it up so that it could be easily seen. I pushed out my stomach just enough to give her everything. She let go of it when it started its journey upward, then just stood there watching it rise even after she'd released her hold.
The next thing I heard, after Katy stopped speaking, while she was putting her arm around my back to lead me to wherever, Jawad made his appearance. He was highly pissed. Rage was in his eyes. His color wasn't all that good. He started to speak up, but I broke all the rules about being quiet, "Matriarch Katy, I need to speak with Patriarch. This man, Jawad, took me to be his own. He entered the sanctuary that was meant for Our Lord Himself. According to Scripture, he who misuses his Powers must have it cut off and fed to sharks." I then dropped to my knees, lowered my head to her feet and kissed each.
"Stand child." Katy said, forcefully. I stood. She looked into my eyes, searching for any ounce of untruth. Seeing none, continuing, "Turn around and bend forward."
I did so. I leaned over so far that my elbows were resting on my knees. This was a moment of truth. I had no idea what it would mean, what it would do for Jordan, and lastly, I had no idea what it would do for or against me. Katy parted my cheeks, put her finger against my back door, wiggled it around a little bit, then said, "Stand. Face me. Do not say a word. Remain subservient."
I nodded my understanding. I stood up and faced her. Her eyes were blazing hot. But she wasn't angry at me anymore. She quickly reached into a drawer, drew out a shiny object, turned to Jawad, shielding my eyes away… then he shrieked like he was dying.
It was then that I felt a icy cold 'something' inside my butt cheeks. Instinctively, automatically, I looked down, only to see Dog sniffing and running its tongue up and down my butthole, searching for, and finding evidence that I'd been hurt and harmed. I stood still, afraid to move, knowing that Katy had a weapon in her hands, and that she would surely turn around to see me moving, or worse, saying something to Dog. Dog then, from the backside, ran her snout up through my crotch area and began licking the back of my balls.
Katy, hearing the lapping and what-have-you, turned around to see Dog looking at her, snarling madly, and then Dog, seeing that I was okay, at least for the time being, pushed past her, jumped Jawad and was all over him, tearing away flesh from his bones, angrily growling and gurgling all the time.
Katy, alarmed, screamed, "Dog, enough. HEEL!"
Dog really debated about letting go of the man, but did so after one more shake of its head, causing Jawad to gurgle with pain. She then walked around me and began lapping between my butt cheeks, sending its nose deep into the valley. A thought immediately passed through my mind… I made no effort to stop her. I just let her lap. I hoped it sent a message to Katy that told her that what I had said was no less than the gospel truth. The thought of Jawad's blood in my butt nearly caused me to push dog away, but then I just let her lap, hoping against all hope that I would no longer be attractive to Patriarch, or anyone else.
She slowly turned toward Jawad. The rage and hatred she was casting down upon him was terrifying. Meanwhile, since the point was made, I pulled dog away, petted her with every ounce of love in my mind and soul, and nuzzled into her ear, "Good Dog."
She licked my cheek and into my hair, but left my face alone. She was the only sane one around in that room.
Much to my surprise, Jawad stood with skin hanging off of his bloody legs, walked past me and went on outside and out of sight. This left Katy and I alone. Slowly, I turned around to face her, knowing that my back was never to be voluntarily shown to her. I went to my knees, paid homage to her feet, then arose when she told, ordered me to stand.
"Your Patriarch will be displeased. You are correct with your scripture recital. You will be permitted to avenge your attacker. It is just and right."
Then, without saying another word, giving another order, or any other expression of displeasure or pleasure, she turned on her heels, walked into the hallway, entered her room and closed the door, leaving me standing there wondering what I'm supposed to be doing, now.
Dog's whining brought me up and out of the fog, if only for a moment. I sat down on the floor, at which time she began licking my face in earnest. I put my arms around her neck and held her close. She was my only connection to sanity. I had to hold onto her, lest I go over the edge into that deep dark tunnel where there was no return, where there was no hope, and where I would stay forever and ever until the end of time, and likely beyond eternity.
The only thing that brought me out of the melancholic state, a state where I was quickly falling into, or had already fallen into, was Dog taking hold of my wrist and urging me to stand. And when I stood up, she still didn't let go. She led me to the table…
Then I saw it.
My heart beat faster than ever beat at seeing a cell phone lying on the table. Without hesitation, I grabbed it, opened the face, and pressed the power button. Immediately it sprang to life. It had a picture of Dog as its background. Thinking fast, and acting even faster, I flipped open the casing, frantically searched for the emergency button that would possibly send help, but there was no such button… but I did hit the contacts button inadvertently. Quickly, I scrolled down. There weren't many entries to choose from, maybe fifteen at most. The very last entry was Wilson, Dale. There wasn't anything he could do. Even if he could do anything – would he?
Time was quickly running out. I just felt it was. Not knowing what else to do, I put the receiver to my ear, and then waited five agonizing rings, hoping against all hope that he would pick up… but he didn't answer. When the ringing ceased, and when the tone beeped, all within the space of two seconds or less, no more, I decided to leave him a message. Frantically, I said, "Dale, this is Luke. We need help, please! Please hurry!"
I heard Katy's voice. I looked toward the living area. She was just entering it. Quickly, I flipped the phone closed and laid it on the table, then stepped away. When she entered the kitchen, she looked at me, then the phone, then me again, then the phone. A panicked look passed across her face. She looked at me… I was so screwed.
Sometime later, I can't say exactly how long, Dad came to us, sat down on the sand, pulled us both into his arms, holding on firmly.
I looked to Dad. His eyes were downcast, sad… he too was being beat down by all the hateful things that had been said and done to all of us. I could only imagine what Mom and said to him. His and my eyes met. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, rifled through it, retrieved a credit card and several bills, and said, handing them to me, "Get yourself and Melissa a room. Call me later. We'll go from there." He pulled me into his chest, hugged me tightly, "We'll work this out, Son. I think it best that you and Melissa are… not with us right now. This matter is between your mother and me. Now – go, please."
We walked back to the tourist area onto the sidewalk, and headed down to the crosswalk. When we arrived, Dad hugged both Melissa and me into his chest. "Call me when you guys get your room… get a double room in case I need somewhere to stay, okay?"
We parted ways; Dad took off one way; we headed another. Knowing our budget was tight, we walked down the strip, turned left at the very last street before the zoo on the left side. There was a hotel right off the beaten path, so we turned and went inside the open air lobby, headed toward the attendant cage, made a reservation and waited for them to process the transaction while I filled out the paperwork and answered their questions about where we wanted to have our room, how long would we be staying, and if we needed our baggage taken to our room. It was then that I remembered that we had no luggage; it was all in our room. She found that to be quite 'odd'. I could and did understand her demeanor changing… maybe she thought we were going to rent by the quarter hour… but she didn't say anything and soon handed us card keys. Our room was on the 9th floor, turn left, turn right, etc.
We caught an elevator to the ninth floor, got turned around, but soon got to our room. I opened the windows facing out toward the ocean while Melissa went into the bathroom and closed the door. I paced the floor… I do that when I get nervous, or when I'm in a position where I don't know what next to do.
Melissa came out. Her eyes were stained. Her mascara had made streaks down her face. We came together. I held her firmly just to let her know that I was there and always would be, no matter what. And we cried, and we cried hard, from everything that had happened on this what was supposed to be a happy occasion.
Knowing that the kids were safe, with each step I took, I was loading up for bear. I'd had enough. I'd had more than enough. This crap was insane. By the time I arrived at the door to our room, I was ready. I slid the card key, push down the lever and opened the door. I looked all around for her and found her in the kitchen. Without giving her an opportunity say one word, I yelled, "I THOUGHT YOU GOT OVER THAT RELIGIOUS CRAP! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? WHY?"
She took two steps backward, opened the refrigerator door, reached in to retrieve a bottle of iced tea for herself. She left the door open and placed herself behind it. Calmly, she said, "Dale, it's about time we start living like a Christian family. Your son needs a man in the house. It is a father's duty to keep his son from going wayward into the gates of hell. You are failing. And you… well… child molesters…"
'REGINA, YOU KNOW ME BETTER THAN THAT! Why are doing this to our family?"
"Because, Dale Wilson, you are not. You are supposedly out there on the road driving a truck… but the evidence says otherwise, now doesn't it?"
Then it dawned on me… she thought… she couldn't think that… we'd been married – forever.
Just as I was getting the words together… the room's phone rang. I needed a distraction, simply to regroup and get my shit together… this wasn't happening though… "Hello." I growled.
"Hi Grandpa!" A child's exuberant voice nearly screamed through the phone set. My heart soared at hearing my beautiful grandson's voice beaming through the receiver. My anger dissipated on the spot. Not knowing if it would return, I turned away from Regina and walked to the veranda, cleared my throat, and with excitement, said, "Hey buddy… gosh it's good to hear your voice. Where are you?"
A child's 'duh, it's me' snicker told me that there was going to be something wild coming out of that child's mouth, so I braced myself for the quick comeback, and I was correct when he said incredulously, "Hawaii."
I had to laugh, "Well, duh. How about narrowing it down… like where are you?"
A knock on the door interrupted our conversation. Regina walked to the door, opened it, and then Carlin came racing through the room, entirely bypassing Grandma, and then, from two feet away, he launched up and forward, nearly dropping me to the floor. Instead, my arms went around him, squeezed his body into mine, at which time I got deep hugs around the neck and kisses on my cheek as the boy expressed his true innate emotions at seeing his Grandpa, me. I held him close, and had a really, really hard time with maintaining my emotions, and composure.
"Well, well, well… somebody is sure glad to see his Grandpa…" My son Jeremy's deep voice carried through the room.
Carlin offered, "Well yeah, Daddy. You played with me all the way here… saying Grandpa would send me away out into the ocean. That's just silly."
"Jeremy, I need to talk to you. Dale, put the child down." Regina said coldly, callously. We all looked at her, to try and figure out what that was all about. I already knew what it was about.
"Regina, we need to handle this in private, please."
She walked to Carlin, took his hand in hers, and led him away from me. She then glared into her oldest son's eyes and said, "Jeremy, your father is a child molester. Satan got hold of him…"
Carlin's eyes went as big as saucers. He looked up into Regina's eyes, then back to mine, then back to hers. Forcefully, the words that came out of his little mouth sent shivers up and down my spine, settling in my neck. He said, "That's a lie. Grandpa would never ever do anything like that!" He then jerked his hand out of hers, came back to me, took my hand in his, then looked deep into my eyes, and with every ounce of trust in his young self, pronounced, "My Grandpa would never do anything to hurt anybody."
I looked up to see Jeremy looking at his mother with total disbelief at the turn of events written all across his face. With the same vigor and vitality that Carlin had given, "Mom, that's just not true. What in the world would ever lead you to think, much less say something like that?"
"He had a pair of boy's underwear and a t-shirt in his dirty clothes. He tried to hide them, but I saw them. I saw them!" Regina said, her voice rising with each word to the point of being believable, even though her assertions were totally false. I looked at the woman I had shared my life with for so many years. A total wave of passionate sadness crept into my being. The feeling was about to take me over, but then Rachel, Jeremy's wife spoke up, "Regina, can we talk for a while, alone?" That's Rachel, cool, calm and collected. She's a good girl. She listens to reason, has a good head on her shoulders, and never ever draws conclusions using her emotions as a tool, as a weapon.
Regina used to be that way, too.
Until she got hooked up in that Church. Everything started changing. No longer was she the absolute confidante that I'd married long ago.
Jeremy walked to Carlin, patted his back, then leaned down to whisper something into his ear. Carlin grinned, walked to me, took my hand in his, "We're supposed to go watch the waves. Can we?"
I needed to be there to defend myself, to work this out, to at least talk about it so that a resolution could be reached. Jeremy looked into my eyes. He nodded.
Regina spoke up, "That's not a good idea. There's no telling what…" Then she reached into her purse and pulled out Jordan's torn, tattered threads that used to be his underwear… my heart – stopped.
We all stood motionless for what seemed like forever. Nobody said a word. Even Carlin, normally the more lively one in our bunch, was quiet. But then, maybe he saw or sensed something adults did not or could not do, released my hand, walked to Regina, grabbed the fabric away, unwadded and held them up for all to see, and then pronounced, "Nobody can wear these." He then walked to the desk and tossed them into a trash basket, returned to me, took my hand in his, and said to his dad, "There's no way, Dad. Grandpa would never ever hurt a kid." The way he said it, so assured of himself, so knowing, got to me. I shuddered and hacked back a sob that threatened to escape. Carlin led us to the door, turned to the others and said in his most innocent child like voice, "I'm going to take care of Grandpa. You guys work it out. I have nothing to work out."
Nobody knew what to say. I mean what was there left to say? The boy said it all. My Grandson was growing up, fast, too fast.
Jeremy accompanied Carlin and I out into the hallway. He pulled me into a deep hug, "Dad, I'm sure this is just a misunderstanding. It will all work out. Uhm, where's Bradley?"
Sadly, I shook my head, "He and Melissa are in a similar situation that you and Rachel were in. They 'shared' their room, if you know what I mean… Mom found them."
"Oh oh. That's not good. Carlin, why don't you go get the elevator? Grandpa will be right there."
"Okay." Carlin's face registered that 'adults!' look, but he happily walked down the hall and disappeared around the corner. When he was about halfway down the hall, he turned around, and smiled his million dollar smile, sending my heart fluttering.
I turned to Jeremy. I figured I needed to say something, "The long and short of it is that I picked up two boys hitchhiking their way to Las Vegas. They left some clothing in the rig after they'd slept for a while and changed clothes while I was busy driving I-10."
"Don't Dad. You don't have to defend yourself. I know you would never do anything to anybody like that, so don't worry about it. We'll talk to Mom. Go on. Have fun and relax."
I didn't know what to say. I felt totally defeated. I asked myself, 'Why?'
"Dad, go ahead. Carlin's not going to leave your side. He's so excited to see you, so much so that I do not think he really realizes what exactly is going on. Go. Have fun." Jeremy said, then pulled me into another deep hug.
I looked into his eyes. I saw only trust and love in them. I saw assurance, too. "I love you, Son. I have my phone. We won't be gone very long. I can't let you…"
Jeremy would have none of my explanations. He released our hug, turned to the door, went inside, closing the door behind him, leaving me standing there wondering if I should be there, too… with him; with my wife; with my daughter-in-law… He was right though. I looked down the hall toward the elevator bank. Carlin had his hands on his hips… like a big guy impatiently waiting for his friend.
I took in a deep breath, walked down the hall, took hold of his offered hand, and entered the elevator.
We took off on our jaunt to do exactly as Jeremy had suggested, and the relaxation, most of it anyway, caught up with me when we were probably half a mile down the beach, heading toward the tourist area. Carlin didn't bring up the difficulties, instead he was telling me about school and how he'd made the honor roll.
Of course, I was major big time proud of him, and said so, more than once.
We stopped in on a Slurpee ice place and purchased one apiece. He got black cherry and I chose root beer. We sat down at a table to enjoy the view and sounds of the waves. Carlin isn't usually very quiet for long stretches of time.
I knew something serious was going on in his head when he looked deeply into my eyes. He was going to ask a question that required a definitive answer from his Grandpa, his hero. I don't know what I did to be his hero. While I wondered, I didn't ask him from where or when he came to his conclusion. It's natural. I feel that he's my hero, too. He's growing up, I thought, watching his 'a little too long' white blond hair blow with the Trade Winds, which were about normal for this time of year, or so I've been told. His bright blue eyes showed that he was deep in thought. While we have had serious conversations before, he never looked so intent… maybe he had been… no… no he hasn't had that expression on his face before now. He got up, looked at me carefully, and then without hesitation, sat on my knee and laid back into my chest and wrapped his arms around mine.
"Ya okay, buddy?"
He replied with a slight shoulder shrug.
Normally, I wait for him to speak, but since he was being so quiet and unyielding, I asked, "Is this about the disagreement your Grandma and me are having?"
"No. That's just crazy, Grandpa. It's just crazy."
I didn't want him to know just how crazy it was, but I needed to say something, "The boys that I picked up on the side of the road are about your age. They'd run away from home because of the way their mother was treating them. It wasn't good, Carlin. I gave them a ride to DFW, and then they were picked up by one of my friends who was going to take them as far as she could. Katy. You remember her, right?"
"Yep. I don't like her."
"Yes, I know. We've talked about it before. She's not ever given me any reason to distrust her. Anyway, I feel good about them being with her. Anyway, I trust your judgment, but I think you are incorrect this time. Which is okay, because you are but a little boy."
Indignantly, Carlin sat up, turned to face me, and put on his big pout expression, "I'm not a little boy. Besides, I'm growing some hair down there, so there!"
I laughed, "What? One or two?"
"No, Grandpa. I've got a bunch of them. Sheesh. I'm not a little boy."
"Okay, so you're growing up. But you are still my little grandson, so there. And you always will be." I replied confidently, then reached for him and pulled his frame into mine, hugged him tight. "What's on your mind, little one? You can talk to Grandpa."
The boy took in a deep breath, wormed his way out of my arms, turned and faced me. "Grandpa," he began very quietly, then without me saying anything, continued, "Do you hate gay people? Everybody else does."
He was so scared. I knew he had taken a very big chance by asking a question about a very, very hot topic. He squirmed when I took a moment or two to just observe him, and wait for him to say something to support his question – he usually does. But when he fidgeted with his fingers on the table top, and continued to squirm, I knew that he asked 'the' question, so, implicitly, I replied without hesitation, "No." Just 'No.' Short. Simple. Succinct. Direct. To the point. No hesitation.
"Good. Dad and Mom don't either. They tell me that gay people are just as normal as you and me."
"That's right. So… what do you think? How do you feel?"
My grandson shrugged his shoulders and looked away. Gone was his smile and lighthearted demeanor. This conversation wasn't done yet… in fact – it hadn't even started. I wondered what I should say, thought about it for a moment, then just asked, "Do you know anybody who is gay?"
"Yeah. Robbie, he's my friend, has two dads. His mother walked out when he was eight. Just like that – she was gone. They've not heard from her since."
"Yeah. But his Dad is really kewl. I mean they, both of his dads are kewl. They pay attention, you know… they listen to him and his friends. They don't treat him like a dweeb."
"Well, that's good."
"Uhm hmm. Grandpa, Robbie has to move out. The police said so."
"For why?" I asked, sitting straight up, wondering what this child was talking about, but then I remembered that Ashwood had been all over TV saying that kids living in homes where both parents were gay would be taken out of the home and put into orphanages, or worse put on work farms. Immediately, I knew I had asked a stupid question. The look in his eyes told me so. "That is sad, Carlin. The whole thing is sad. So long as the home is a happy and healthy one, I see absolutely no problem with two gay people raising their children. The same is true for homes with a man and a woman. We're all equal. The world would be much better place if people just loved each other, and if they can't love one another, then be tolerant of differing lifestyles."
"The police said that Robbie's parents would make their son gay, and that they would make him do sex things with them… it's crazy."
"It is crazy. You are so right. Carlin, don't hold the world on your shoulders… what else is on your mind?"
"Robbie is my best friend, Grandpa."
"He sounds like a really good friend. You care for him a lot, don't you?"
"Yeah, for sure. We played together all the time… you know – war, hide and seek, down in the woods, swimming at the pool… all kinds of things. We have sleep-overs, too. And they go to the same church we do."
"That's good. I had a friend like that when I was growing up. His name was Michael. Unfortunately, he was killed in Desert Storm. He and his buddies were removing refugees, mostly children, when a bomb went off and killed most of them. If you want to know about a real hero, Mike was one. You see, he died by putting two kids beneath him because he saw the bomb but it was too late. The bomb was one of those booby trap kinds." I took in a deep breath, I'll never forget when his wife came over really late at night, after we'd gone to bed, and told us of his death. She was never the same. In fact she moved back east to get away from the memories of their home. They were unable to have children, but he was active in scouts and league baseball in town. The whole situation was sad; it still is when I think about it. So, without having kids of his own, his death is poetic.
I was brought out of my thoughts by one twelve year old Grandson sitting back and pulling himself into my arms. I squeezed him firmly. We sat there quiet for a very long time. He still wasn't finished talking. I hadn't seen anything yet… I knew this. It takes him a while to formulate his feelings, not that he is a cold child because he's not… he just wants to get his words in line with his feelings. He also gets frustrated at not being spontaneous, but his parents and I tell him to just go with what feels right that we're different in many ways, but just alike in most ways.
"Grandpa," the boy began slowly and deliberately, "Robbie and I are really good friends)."
"I can tell that you are upset that he has to leave." The boy shuddered. He then buried his face into my side. His little shoulders were shaking, and breathing was somewhat of a chore.
"Carlin, I love you more than life itself. Nothing you can tell me will change this fact. I told your Dad the same thing when he went through some stuff way back when he was a child. And yes, your Daddy was a little boy just like you are right now. So you just take your time to get your words that you want to say – just right, okay buddy?"
He didn't argue the 'little boy' comment. Right now, in his fear, he was feeling very much a little boy. I drew my arms around him to help his confusion clear away, and to just give him space to think without interruptions. I suspected I knew what he was going for, but I wasn't sure… he'd tell me when he was ready, if he was ready… maybe not. Sometimes kids have to wait until they are adults before they're able to think and get things straight in their heads. I hoped Carlin didn't have to wait so long, like his Dad did, and like I did, too.
Sometimes a walk helps. With it being such a beautiful day, weather wise, I took a chance by patting his back, rubbing little circles up and down his spine, and then took my hand to the area that I know tickles him to pieces… usually he becomes hysterical, and doing it got a look from him that said that he was glad I did it. I said, "Come on, let's take a walk."
So we took off down the beach, not caring that our shoes were getting wet because we were so close to the water. And then things escalated. The little imp intentionally, willfully and wantonly stomped his feet, sending water all over us. Well… two can play that game. Instead of acting like an almost sixty year old man, I regressed into a twelve year old – and splashed back. Since I have much larger feet… well… you get the picture. Our romping around and playing like kids utterly and completely broke through his melancholy, and mine, too; bringing back my little grandson even though he was growing up… God, I hope he never loses the ability to laugh and play even when he was big and strong like his Dad and me. People, of course, were looking at us like we were having – fun. And they were correct in their assumptions.
Since we were already wet, we sat down in the sand. He wrapped his arm around mine, and as soon as a wave crashed landing no more than one foot away, he started talking, "Grandpa, I've been thinking, (I squeezed his arm against me). I guess I have to tell you that Robbie and I love each other."
"That's good. We can't love, and I mean really love too many people. I'm very happy for you. Does Robbie know that you love him?"
"Yeah. He does. He loves me too."
"Good. Carlin, I now understand why you and he are so upset…"
"Grandpa, they can't do this to us. They can't…" With that said, Carlin broke down and openly wept, something totally unlike him, at least in a public place such as where we were sitting. I pulled him in and permitted and gave unspoken permission for him to release his emotions. My heart broke because he was hurting so badly at the prospect of losing his best friend, and perhaps more.
I looked at my watch. It was getting late. I was sure that he was hungry. He's always hungry. He's a growing boy, what else is new? I was hungry, too. I kissed the top of Carlin's head, squeezed him tight, then released him so that he could wipe dry his eyes. Then the thought of sand, oh my God – "Don't use your hands." I grabbed them before they touched his face. He looked at me like I'd lost my mind. I showed him the sand that had stuck to his hands. He put two and two together. He pulled his shirt out from being tucked into his pants, then wiped them dry.
Two hands touched my shoulders. I jumped and turned around to see who they belonged to. Jeremy and Rachel were standing behind us. Jeremy motioned for me to be silent, that he had a surprise for Carlin, but Carlin turned around. It was then that Jeremy and Rachel, his parents, realized that something wasn't quite right, in fact Rachel walked around and grabbed the boy up in her arms and held him firmly, lovingly. I reached down, kissed the boy's cheek, stood up and walked with Jeremy to the concession stand. Before we got there, I told him that he needed to talk to his son, that he had something very important to tell him, but I would not and did not share what 'it' was. If I were to share his moment, then I could very well lose his trust.
Jeremy knows that about me. We'd had many conversations, for guys only, just he and I, alone, when he was growing up, so he understood. I just told him that Carlin was physically safe. I also told him, after thinking about it for a moment, that the news was really upsetting the boy. I left my words hanging. Jeremy looked into my eyes, searching for something to put his hands all over, but couldn't find it. I maintained stoicism, somehow. Then an understanding passed through his expression. "Dad, my son needs me."
I nodded. I understood. I turned to walk back to the room, but Jeremy stopped me, "Dad, he needs you, too. Right now, I think you and mom can no longer be together. She's not listening to reason. If I'm right in what I'm thinking – then Carlin needs to be away from her, too. Dad, I'm not going to subject my son to that rhetoric. She's lost her marbles."
"I thought I knew her better, Jeremy." I replied sadly, knowing he was more than likely correct.
We walked to where Rachel and Carlin were seated. Rachel looked up. She raised Carlin's face so that he could see his Dad and me approaching. He scooted off his mom's lap and took a seat next to her, and he motioned for us to sit there, too.
Rachel is truly a good mother. She really is. With her arm around Carlin's shoulders, "Our son is scared, Jeremy. He's really afraid."
Jeremy stood, took hold of Carlin's hand. They got up and walked to the water's edge. Jeremy turned Carlin in such a way that they had to look at one another. When Carlin tried to lower his head, Jeremy would have no part of it. Carlin spoke. Jeremy spoke. Carlin fanned his arms like he was pointing somewhere out in the ocean. I looked out there but couldn't see anything. When I turned back to them, Carlin had pulled himself into his Dad's arms. Jeremy, of course, had his arms around his son, and in fact carried the boy back to us, sat down with Carlin on his lap. He gave Carlin a cue. The boy spoke, "Grandpa, Grandma will hate me. I can't help it. I… I… I'm… one of the people she hates."
"Go ahead, Carlin. Say the word. It is a small word, but it is your truth. Nobody here hates you, nor could we ever hate you." Jeremy said, calmly.
Rachel said, "I'm your mother, Carlin. I will always be your Mom. Count on it. This is a very important moment in your life. You can do it. You are strong enough. And you are growing into a fine young man."
"Carlin, whether or not your Grandmother can accept you once she knows the truth is on her, not you. Your Mom is absolutely correct. I'm so proud of you. Did you know that you're my hero?" I said, seriously.
The boy looked into my eyes like I'd lost my last marble. But then his demeanor changed dramatically. He sat straight up, gave his trademark impish smile, shrugged his shoulders, and said quietly, "I'm afraid. But I love Robbie. I love him so much. And he loves me. So, I guess that makes us like his two dads… you know… uhm, well, I like boys; I'm gay."
"I know how much you love Robbie. I see it in your eyes. I can tell that Robbie loves you, too. I see it in his eyes too." I started to say. Then Rachel hit the ground running when she said, "And from the sounds coming from your room at night…"
Carlin looked up into her eyes with total agony, embarrassment and horror written across his face – he'd been busted. Rachel just laughed. Jeremy offered, "Son, we kind of know what those sounds mean… we're not saying anything more about it, are we Rachel?"
"Not unless they start screaming their heads off." Rachel snickered which drove Carlin off the bridge. I thought he was going to spontaneously explode right then and there, but somehow at all. I had to chuckle, though. Carlin wasn't the only boy who had friends over who, when the lights were off, thinking though nobody could hear them… but I didn't say anything, but I did look into Jeremy's eyes and gave him a smile. Ah, it had been a very long time since I'd seen 'that' Jeremy – blush. I chuckled knowing that he knew that I knew.
Carlin was back to being his old self, filling his little self with fun and excitement. In fact, I know that he was walking a lot lighter in his shoes. I could just tell that he now felt free to love, and to be loved.
When the kids got up and walked down the beach, I just had to marvel at my family, and how good of a Dad my son had turned into, or grew up into, or something… what I'm trying to put into words really doesn't matter… it's one of those things you just have to experience to get the full meaning.
I heard footsteps approaching. I turned around to see Bradley and Melissa approaching. Hugs were freely given and received. Both were dressed to go out into the surf. Neither was wearing very much in the way of clothing, but that didn't really surprise me.
"Have you seen Mom?" I inquired.
"No. Dad, we got a room at the Kapaloni. I'm sorry about the cost. I'll pay you back."
"No, that's not necessary. This is our vacation. We're going to have a good time, despite a few bumps in the road, okay? Okay. I thought so." I offered to end the doom and gloom of our trip thus far, or still, who knows.
They took off. At the same time, I saw a whirling sack of human flush tearing across the beach, and then that same hunk went bowling into Jeremy, knocking him flat on his ass. They started wrestling around like they normally do… but then stopped on a dime. Carlin was pointing down to Bradley's midsection, and Bradley was hurriedly covering his exposed skin. Thankfully the way they were I didn't have to see him or specifically what was going on. My imagination was enough. I laughed heartily, simply because he wasn't being all that successful. Melissa was laughing her butt off, too, and she was also pointing at Bradley's little problem. Ah the joys of youth.
Knowing that the fiddler paid the piper, or something like it, I got up and headed toward our hotel to get this matter straightened out once and for all, hopefully.
I took one last look at my family before carrying out the decision I just made to go talk to Regina. Jeremy looked up, which stopped their playing for a moment or two. They all looked at me with love freely emanating from their eyes, knowing that I, as the oldest of the bunch, would have to do what I had to do. I also knew that that they were behind me one hundred percent of the way. Having your family between their mother and father is something I had never even dreamed. I turned away after waving and started toward the sidewalk leading to our hotel. The squealing and carrying on restarted in earnest. I smiled knowing they were having fun, which is what this vacation is all about, right? Right.
Thinking that perhaps a nice quiet dinner would help things along, I stopped in the way-overpriced restaurant, made reservations for eight, and headed up to our room. Arriving, I stuck the card key into the slot, opened the door… only to find clothes scattered all about the room, and no Regina. The clothes were mine. And only mine.
My heart sunk.
I went to the in-room bar, popped the top off of Jim, and partook and drank and drank until I no longer cared. It took a lot of the liquid anesthesia, simply because I did care, a lot.
For a very long time I had drooled when I saw this guy, who right now was standing in front of me, on TV with his family, and here we are standing naked in front of one another. This doesn't happen, not in real life. But the truth could not be denied. Nor could my feelings that caused my organ to twitch.
Then everything came crashing down… why was this boy, Lawrence Ashwood, standing here in this hell-hole place on earth? Why? And then I remembered that he had been in a horrific accident, a boating accident, and had been airlifted to a hospital in grave critical condition, and was not expected to live, but here he is – in front of me – with my arms touching his shoulders.
"Lawrence… is this really you?"
The boy, Lawrence, stood expressionless staring blankly, blindly into the mirror, unmoving, but he was deep in thought… his eyes said so even though his body wasn't acknowledging anything like recognition, or even understanding.
Although his face was thinner that what I remembered it being on TV, he was healthy, or appeared to be. Since we were both undressed, I could not help myself… I walked around him, looking all over his body, looking for evidence that he'd been grievously hurt, harmed and broken. Other than for several blemishes on his back, butt and legs, obviously from being hit with an electrical cord, he looked fine. He had also walked quite normally, so there was nothing to indicate that he had been critically injured, or worse – dead.
What I did next… surprised me. As I've said, Lawrence is just one of the dudes who started my journey toward Luke, our love, and being gay. I looked deeply into his eyes, then reached for the vanity light switch and flicked it on. As inconspicuously as I could possibly be, my eyes roamed down his flat tummy until they reached that area that should have hair but didn't . I looked back up just to make sure he wasn't… wasn't… what is the word I'm looking for? Embarrassed? Repulsed? No, I didn't see any of them. I quickly glanced down his belly, I kept going and looked at his maleness, which was soft though not entirely so. I took in a deep breath. The skin on end, just before the glans, was rough looking, with ridges of tissue all around the circle. It wasn't like anything I'd ever seen, not that I am an expert in penisology… I mean Luke and I are both circumcised, but the ridge looks nothing like Lawrence's. Boldly, I reached my hand toward his maleness; I just had to see this up close. Once again, I checked Lawrence to make sure he wasn't offended, because offending him was the very last thing in the world I wanted to do.
Our eyes caught. Lawrence, nonplussed, stated simply, "You may look. Here I will show it to you. The abnormality you see is not abnormal at all. I have been purified. The urges have left me." Contrary to what he just said, his penis had grown; not fully, but enough to stand out at a forty five degree angle downward.
He reached his hand down and grasped that which designates him male. He was surprised. He looked down to see that it was elongated, and still rising, and pulsating.
I put my hands on either of his shoulders. "Lawrence, you're not sinning. Your penis is doing what it is supposed to be doing – it's hard. Luke's Dad said we get erections, that they are normal and natural."
"No. I must not have them. I must go to Temple and confess. Come."
Gently, I pushed my hands on up his neck, held them there softly, "Sunni, there's nothing wrong with us. Talk to me. Tell me what is wrong."
"No. Please. Let's just go. We mustn't be late."
"Sunni, you will receive severe retribution if you go out there with an erection. Heck, go take a cold shower, sit down, take it in your hand… anything… I don't want to see you hurt, please, just this once."
Sunni, Lawrence, shook his head as if to shake away cobwebs in his mind, then turned to me, and said, "Come. We must go. We must not be late."
"Sunni, stop. Look, we're in this together. You are not bad, are you? I mean have you killed anybody?"
"No, of course not. But I am filled with sin… the urges are present… I have lied about them not being in my spirit and body. I am doomed."
"Stay right here. Don't move."
I took hold of his elbow, leaned way over, reached into a drawer, retrieved a hand towel, folded it in half, then applied it so that the fabric was fully wrapped around his extension. I looked deeply into his eyes. He closed his. His hand pushed mine aside, while his other hand held my shoulder. The only external evidence that he'd reached his moment was when he took in a deep breath and permitted his eyes to briefly flutter open, before closing them. His facial expressions relaxed, and his breathing returned to normal. Once his feelings passed, his hand on my shoulder relaxed. He exhaled and dropped the towel to our feet. It felt slightly damp.
Sunni shook his head, then looked deep into my eyes. I searched high and low looking for a sliver of light inside those delicate orbs of flesh. I saw a light switch on in there. "Sunni, what happened to you just now is normal and natural. Don't you have wet dreams at night while you're asleep? Our stuff has to come out sometime… it just has to."
"Yes. Yes, I do. How do you stop it?"
"You can't. Not if you don't take care of it when you're awake."
"Yes, I see. Katy searches my bed. I am counseled by My Patriarch several times a week. He is succeeding at taking me on the straight and narrow path. We must not keep him waiting. He will be angry if we are late."
I released my hands from his neck and dropped them to my side, brushing across my own appendage that I didn't even know was extended. I looked away, suddenly ashamed.
"Excuse me." Sunni reached down to the floor, folded the towel in half, then applied it to my member. His eyes bored holes in mine. He put his hands on either side of my chest and nodded approvingly.
A few short minutes later, Sunni disposed of the towel after thoroughly rinsing it in the sink. Once the material was hung on a towel rack beside the shower, he looked into my eyes, "We must go. Come, I will keep you safe."
Lawrence retrieved two wash clothes, soaped them both. He washed his member and urged me to do the same. He then oiled us. And we put on new clean skimpy cloths. He removed all of the wrinkles, faced me, and said, "I must be in charge. I am your mentor. I will be with you from now on. I will not be angry at you, at any time, nor will I hurt you. Our Patriarch has found favor in you."
"I don't think so. He raped me with his fingers, and maybe with something else, like his dick. Grown men don't do that to kids. Has he done it to you, too? Be honest with me. Our lives may depend on it."
"He is my Master and I am his student. He is my Patriarch and I am his sinner. But, Jordan, I am failing as he has not touched me today."
When he said that, a light bulb went on in my head. A shiver went up and down my spine and settled in my lower back. Goosebumps popped up on my arms and legs, and a sense of dread went splashing through my veins. I looked at Sunni in a whole different way, realizing his only sense of security was slowly slipping away, because the man who he looked up to was pushing him away.
I resolved to get us out of this situation. I don't know how. I don't know when. All I know is that we have to get out of here. To Sunni, "Okay, you are the boss. But I have to tell you something… you have to try to remember," without waiting for an acknowledgment or denial of privilege, I continued, "You are Lawrence Ashwood. You are the President's son. How did you get here?"
"No, please… we must go. I must not cry. I can't. It is a sign of weakness."
Without further delay, Sunni brushed away my hand, walked to the door leading out of the bedroom, put his hand on the doorknob, turned back, waited, and when I caught up, he said, "That is my old life. All that matters to me is now dead. I have nowhere else to go." He then opened the door and waited for me to exit. As I walked by, I leaned into his ear and said, "Your and our lives depend on you being totally honest. Dishonesty is a sin, Lawrence."
Without waiting for an answer, I walked on by Lawrence, but he stopped my progress, took my place so that I followed him. He is my mentor. He comes first. He just doesn't realize how very true that is.
When we arrived at the entrance to the kitchen, Sunni stopped, turned me toward Katie, knelt down on the floor, leaned over, kissed her feet, which I took as a quasi order to follow and did so, although I wanted to bite her foot right off her fat lobular leg.
Luke sent me a message, '"Nice, very nice butt you have there." Giggle.'
If the situation wasn't so serious, I would have laughed, but as it was, I followed Sunni when he took two steps back and stood at attention in front of Katy, unmoving.
"Has he been prepared?" Katy inquired, authoritatively.
"Yes, Matriarch. I personally supervised his cleansing." Sunni, Lawrence, replied, subserviently.
Katy closed the distance between us. She turned to me, "Present yourself."
I had no clue what she meant by 'Present yourself'. I was standing before her in this skimpy thing, naked otherwise, showered, oiled down… what else does she want? Oh yeah, I have this skimpy thing on. I reached down, took hold of the string, wrestled the thin, hard to hold ribbing and pulled it down, took it off and held it up for her inspection. Luke sent, '"Cute."'
She took it from my hand, held the garment up to her nose, sniffed, then unrolled the wad, and closely inspected the pouch. I had no clue what she was looking for… then it dawned on me that she was looking for any evidence of emission. I relaxed somewhat when she handed it to Sunni, Lawrence. She approached, then carefully ran her hand through my hair, over my face, over my neck, down my chest, on down my stomach, through each side of my testicles and into the bottom of the V. She didn't linger in any one place for more than a second or two.
She nodded to Sunni, Lawrence. She stepped back two steps. Sunni, Lawrence took one step forward, a step to his left, then turned to face me, "Turn around. Face the kitchen door."
I did so. A pair of hands took each of my cheeks and spread them widely apart. From the position of Sunni, Lawrence's feet, he was the one preparing me for… what? A small stubby finger then wormed its way inside of me, but for just a few seconds. I was already tender back there. When that finger pulled out, it hurt. I then felt a small wet pad being applied to that area. The smell was of alcohol, the rubbing kind. Sunni, Lawrence, turned me to face Katy.
To Sunni, Lawrence, Katy spoke, "He is prepared well. Take him to the parlor and await Our Patriarch's summons."
"Yes, Matriarch. Immediately."
'"Sunni is actually Lawrence Ashwood. Don't you recognize him?"' Jordan sent to me.
'"Oh my God… you're right… What in the hell is he doing here… he's supposedly dead… the boating accident… it was plastered all across the news!"' I replied.
'"Yeah, well, he's almost totally brainwashed. As far as he's concerned, his name is Sunni, and only Sunni. I kind of started talking to him… he reacted by not reacting if you know what I mean… but he was staring off into space as if he was trying to remember something, and then he told me this is where he feels at home."'
'"We have to get out of here. They have prepared us for some weird shit. This is already weird shit.'
Sunni touched Jordan's shoulder while looking deeply into my eyes.
We followed him into the parlor. Sunni sat on a love seat and pointed for us to be seated with him, one on either side. Sunni handed me the garment which I quickly put on and got straightened out.
Sunni leaned into Jordan's ear and said something so quietly that I couldn't hear what he had said. Jordan's eyes popped wide open, and said, "Not in this lifetime." Sunni nodded.
Sunni's arms went around my neck. He pulled us all three in together very closely. He whispered, "I will help you make safe passage. I will escort you to the barn, and then you two take off. It is in the middle of the night, just go down to the creek, you'll be safe there until morning. And then run, and do not stop."
I whispered, "You're coming with us."
"You are correct. I am no longer of any use to Patriarch. He will kill me. I am no longer able to please him or anyone else, not in any way that they understand."
Charles, Eric, and Stan, all naked, entered the parlor. Sunni, Lawrence, stood, stepped back, faced Jordan then me. He nodded, giving us permission to stand and submit ourselves to whatever happened next.
The house was empty as we walked out through the living area, kitchen and out onto the step, where we stood for a moment. I looked up into the sky. The moon was crescent shaped, and was putting off a little bit of light. Then that damn dog about scared the crap out of me when it reached its nose in and jostled my privates. But she didn't linger. Instead, she took hold of my wrist and held it firmly.
Charles, Eric and Stan walked on down through the yard. Stan looked back when they were about halfway to the barn. Our eyes met. He nodded then followed his mates into the barn and then they were out of sight. Charles and Eric never did look back. When Charles entered, he closed the door.
"They know." Lawrence offered, secretively.
Lawrence grabbed both of our wrists and wrestled us back into the house, to his room, and into the walk-in closet. He quickly removed the skimpy piece of material, reached into the back of a drawer and pulled out three pair of brightly colored underwear, three t-shirts, then reached into another drawer and pulled out three pair of jeans and socks. "Put these on, quickly."
The clothes were quite tight, but they fit, and besides that we were scared shitless that we'd be caught, and then what if we were? I didn't even want to think about that possibility, but did so anyway.
TO BE CONTINUED