Date: Mon, 18 Aug 2003 22:28:21 -0600
From: Tom Emerson <thomas@btl.net>
Subject: HOLLYWOOD GRAFFITI - FILE III (CONC.)

	The five in the waiting room lapsed into silence, satiated with the
exercise of intelligence as an aphrodisiac.  They'd been briefly
interrupted in their storytelling by a nurse who informed them that Sandy
had been found sound asleep and allowed to remain so, modern medicine still
having no better cure, in some cases, than forty solid winks.  They'd
nodded thanks and awaited developments, Penny having explained in
orientation that flexibility was a byword of their orientation; to come
when they had the time, spend four or five hours -- that was the big thing
-- and take things as they came.  This was especially true of a first
meeting, and John, Britt and all were grateful for the opportunity to
establish a solid basis to their relationship from the outset.
Nonetheless, they were very happy, one and all, when the door to the hall
opened and Valerie Hobbs entered followed by her nineteen year old brother,
Warren [mistakenly introduced as Rafe -- oops].  All stood and shook hands
as the brother and sister apologized for their delay in showing up.  "And
they said Sandy's in the pool, and it's okay to go in," Valerie added
nodding to the door at the far end of the anteroom.

         "We're all really sorry about your being sick," Britt said
speaking for all.
         "Thanks," the girl whispered, "but think of all those hundreds of
thousands of dollars I won't have to go out and earn to keep body and soul
together."  It was a wincing point, life being as it is, a gift only to the
rich.  They hugged the girl for her courage and filed into the pool where
the handsome, boyish Sandy was floating by himself.  His eyes lit up at the
throng suddenly descending on his lagoon and he smiled and waved happily.
The visitors slipped behind a pair of changing screens to hang their
clothes and slip into the issued swimsuits, modest trunks for the males and
tank suits for the females.  Karen was handed to her brother and the three
other couples settled into the free-form grotto, each female in her
brother's lap, all huddled close together.
         "Your sister was very worth saving," Britt said to Sandy.  His
eyes lighted at the reference and he hugged the eight hear old, becoming
lost in thought for a moment.  "S-she a headache," he stammered.
         "We hear she cheated you," John said slowly.  "She played a trick
on you.  About the weather.  Do you remember?"
         "I think so," Sandy said slowly.  "T-there was a blizzard at the
beach, so we had to swim in the mountains."  Karen spun in his lap to catch
the flicker of a twinkle in his otherwise placid eyes, turned back and
launched herself at the twenty-two year old engineer, hugging both Britt
and him and whispering to the girl, "he's a sensation.  Penny was so right,
he just needs to be stimulated."  In an instant she was back with Sandy,
facing him, kissing him all over, then settling back in her original
position, instinct telling her not do overdo.  She brought his hands firmly
to her belly, wriggling gently in his lap, and they all let the moment
congeal.
         John spoke again after a few moments.  "She said you taught her
how to fly a radio-controlled model," he said.
         Sandy looked puzzled for a moment, then his eyes brightened.  "I
remember.  She was wearing braids," he said, "and she looked very cute.
Girls are pretty when they concentrate."
         "Well," Britt said, "you'll have to recover quickly and fully so
you can be an algebra teacher."  There was a round of giggles at the girl's
comment, then John's voice cut like a knife: "Valerie can't recover," he
snapped, "so you better-the-fuck not make a game of it."  There was a gasp
of shock and all stiffened.  Moments passed.  "Bring her to me," Sandy
whispered to Karen.  The eight year old slid from his lap and guided her
new friend into her place, turning her so she faced her brother as she sat
in his lap.  "Well, I'll remember you forever," he said, "and I'm very
sorry."

         It has been said Penny Nordstrom knew what she was doing.  Fuckin'
eh.

         There wasn't a dry eye in the house, John's the least so as Britt
practically jumped against him and began lapping his face with a hot wild
tongue, biting him for momentary relief of the fire suddenly raging between
her belly and her knees.  It was Todd who restored things to as near normal
as they were likely to be in the grotto.  "Oh, let us celebrate this
wonderful morning god has bestowed upon us, each and every one."  His
mimicking of the media preacher was flawless and John shot his new friend a
hot look of gratitude.  He'd played a dangerous game with all of them, and
it was nice to have a teammate.
         Sandy looked confused and Karen returned to his lap, huddling
behind Valerie.  "Todd was telling us about the first time he and Jesse
were together," she explained, "they were at the drive-in church you hear
advertised all the time."
         "Were you alone in the car?" Sandy asked Todd, the effort to focus
clearly visible in his boyish face.

         "No," Todd replied.  Since Valerie and Warren hadn't heard the
story, either, he sketched what had happened, adding a previously omitted
segment in which the collection taker had appeared at the driver's window
of the Buick.  "We're starting our own sex-t," Rafe had said at the
appearance of the basket, dropping in the ten dollar bill they'd left
handy.  There had been a momentary pause while the deacon fished in his
pocket, and finally handed over a card listing a special phone number and
hours devoted to private counseling, nine to eleven, every night of the
week.  "We still have it as a souvenir," he noted.
         Warren Hobbs was the next to move close to their handsome host.
"I'd like it if Valerie stayed with you," he whispered so all could hear.
His impromptu spear worked, too, Sandy immediately searching out Karen's
eyes and then blushing openly at her shy nod and smile.  There are two ways
to cope: live longer or pack more into each hour, so Sandy nodded in
return, guiding his eight year old sister to the lap of the handsome teen
now sitting at his left.  Britt and Jesse squirmed happily in their
brothers' laps, and all suddenly felt so utterly at home they wondered if
they might simply slip to the bottom of the little pool and gurgle until
the last bubble was gone.  On the other hand, they had a lot to live for.

         Age playing a role, Todd and Jesse settled at Sandy's right hip as
the senior male and his eleven year old sister moved across from the group,
separated only to the point their knees could easily tough.
         "When we were at the drive-in," the experienced boy whispered (so
all could hear) to Sandy, "Rafe and I touched each other.  Have you ever
let another boy touch you?"  The look of over-concentration returned to
Sandy's face and John nodded approvingly at Todd for another challenging
arrow.  A minute passed, but already half free of the initial tension of
playing amateur psychiatrists.
         "I'll remember if I don't try too hard," the seventeen year old
said, treading on familiar ground because everyone's had that experience.
He looked at Warren.  "Has that ever happened to you?" he asked, his
natural grace apparently unaffected by his recent coma.
         "When I went fishing with Mr. Gracie," the teen said.  "It
happened when I was eleven."
         "I was eleven or twelve, too," Sandy said, then nodded for Warren
to continue, as did everyone present.
         "I always called him that," Warren began, "even though he was just
John's age, twenty-two.  His first name was Jeff, or is, of course, but was
when it happened, sometimes I don't know which to use, if I'm nervous."
         "Are you nervous now?" Sandy asked, Karen squeezing Warren with
excitement.
         "Kind of," the boy admitted with a flush and shy smile.
         "Todd told us everything that happened," Britt said, "and remember
what Jenny said."
         "Okay," Warren whispered.  "I guess if it had just happened once
I'd have ended up really confused and wouldn't want to talk about it, but
it happened quite a lot for a whole week, so that makes it easier."
         "Were you alone with him?" Sandy asked, earning Warren another
healthy pinch.
         "His nephew, Donny went with us," Warren whispered, "or I guess I
should say I went with them.  How about you?"
         "Someone was watching," Sandy said, "did Donny watch you and
Mr.... Christie?"
         "I watched them first because he, Donny, was experienced and it
was my first time for anything."
         "Did it happen fast or slowly?" Sandy then asked.
         "Slowly," Warren said.  "We were back east.  Mr. Christie was our
neighbor and I used to do his lawns.  His uncle died and left him a Bertram
'32.  There's no point in having a boat in Los Angeles because there's no
place to go, and it's more fun to fish on a party boat where there are lots
of people to talk to, so he decided to sell it.  He wanted to run from
Kitty Hawk down to Ft. Lauderdale to get in at least one good trip in
memory of his uncle, and he invited me to come along and swab everything
that didn't move out of the way.  My parents said it was okay, so we flew
to Norfolk and stayed at Donny's, then got on the "Ka-Chum" the next
morning."

         Sandy frowned.  "If it had been a sailboat," he said slowly, "it
would have been the "Ketch-um", thus earning poor Warren a pinch so hard he
squeaked in pain.
         Again the frown, but less of a drawl.  "I think what I actually
meant," he said, "was Ketch-all.".

         "Stop hot-dogging," John laughed, "and let him catch-up."
         "Yes," Britt added, "you have to have some kind of disability or
they'll kick you out of this place."
         "I may have forgotten my name for awhile there," Sandy said, "and
I don't even know how long `awhile' was, but one thing that never left me
was never putting ketchup anywhere near a hot dog."
         "How much do you remember of why we went to Big Bear," Karen
whispered, still in a daze at the whiplash recovery of her brother, his
nearly magical response to therapy, granted the therapy defined extreme.
         "The more Warren talks, the more I remember," her brother replied,
putting a period to the sentence.
         "Talk about a cue," the seventeen year old murmured, flushing, but
he strove bravely on as his friend began gently fondling his sister through
her tank suit.

         "Whatever the Bertram's name was, should have been, could have
been, might have been, or should not have been, we boarded on a Friday
morning and were under the bridge by nine.  Mr. Christie's uncle was, as
Donny, nephew to both of them, said, last among turtles.  The boat had a
single 263 cube V-8.  It would only do nine knots, when most of that model
will do thirty, but it cruised at seven as quiet as a sailboat and got four
miles to the gallon.  For trolling he had an electric motor, that doubled
as a high-output generator, clutched into the propeller shaft and two banks
of batteries where the second engine would normally have gone."
         "Wow," Britt whispered, "you can't have been separated at birth,
but it's some rare karma, nonetheless."
         John explained briefly about his car and nodded for the teen to
continue.  One thing about a certain kind of story, you can wander a little
along the way and no one's likely to doze off or turn on the television.
Inquiring minds want to know.

         "The weather was stable so we decided to run all night.  Calm.
Warm.  Stars.  The boat sliding along without a sound because it had an
underwater exhaust.

         "It might be smarter to move here than sell this," Ben Christie
said once they'd settled into their cruising routine, autopilot set and
everyone seated comfortably in the deckhouse lighted by the glow of the
radar.  It was a slice of heaven, the boat moving lightly, making good
progress, but quiet and smooth.  Why would anyone buy two huge diesels to
first spoil it and then truncate in?  Made little sense but folks was
folks.  They took turns scanning the horizon with binoculars, Donny finally
suggesting Warren and he go up and sit on the foredeck under the stars.
"There's something I want to talk to you about," the boy whispered
nervously as the made their way around the wheelhouse and sat on the bow,
their legs hanging over the sides.
         Warren sensed the tension in his new friend.  "You don't have to
tell me anything," he said.  "I'm just a guest and you're family."
         "I want to because I really like you, and I'll be visiting Uncle
Ben quite a bit in the future, out in Los Angeles, so I want us to be
friends, but you might not want to be when you know what's happening."
         "I don't picture you exactly as bank robbers," the eleven year old
said to his ten year old companion.

         "We don't even shoplift or spit on sidewalks," Donny assured the
older boy.
         "Not even a drug lab or marijuana plant in the attic?" Warren
said.
         "Yeah, that parts pretty boring," the younger boy agreed, "but the
rest of it isn't."
         "I hope you don't just know how to begin a story," Warren chided.
         "Well," the boy said, taking a deep breath, "something happened to
me after little league practice, last year when I was nine.  It seemed
natural and I liked it, but then I sort of heard stuff that made me kind of
freak out.  Luckily, Uncle Ben visited a few days after it happened.  He
could see I had something on my mind, so he took me up to Kenny Hahn park
so we could talk.  I guess what I'm trying to say is that some pretty
mature stuff happened, and, you know, if stuff like that makes you
uncomfortable we can talk about something else."
         "No knives?" Warren whispered, thinking he'd pull one of his own
if Donny was going to hang him out to dry.
         "The fate worse than death," the other boy said with a nervous
laugh.
         "That's how I feel when I watch Lucy, too." the older boy said.

         "It's funny because I know I can tell you," Donny said, "but it's
like to the entrance of a mine and someone's dynamited a ton of taboo over
the opening."
         "It could have been two tons," Warren encouraged, now as nervous
as his friend.
         "Okay," the younger boy said taking another deep breath.  "Little
League, right?  And we had our picture taken, and the photographer was
putting together a portfolio and wanted me to pose for him.  He was nice
and a silver-medal state swimmer, so I called my parents and he took me to
an old barn with all kinds of light coming through the cracks in the roof,
and if you threw the old hay around for a few minutes it filled with dust
so there'd be sunbeams.  It was a Saturday morning, so Kit and I had the
whole day together.
         "You know," Donny continued, "if you want to go down in the galley
and make hot chocolate or something, it would be okay."
         "Not until there's blood," his friend whispered.
         "You're sure?"
         "Yes."
         "Okay," another deep breath, "after he took some pictures of me on
the ladders and in the loft, he showed me some pictures he'd taken there
before.  They were of a boy I knew in school who was Kit's neighbor.  The
first few were like the ones he'd taken of me, then his voice got kind of
low and husky and he said he had some more mature ones, if I wanted to look
at them.  His voice made me nervous, but, I mean, there was no threat, in
fact he was like almost overly casual and started putting the rest of his
stack back in his camera bag in case I wasn't interested, but I said I did
want to see them.  Kenny's a really nice kid, so that was one reason, but
even if he'd been a stranger, I would have wanted to.
         "Has anyone ever talked to you," Donny went on, "you know, in a
way that's kind of strained and strange, but really exciting, too?"
         "In the movies once," Warren whispered over the noise of the light
bow wave, "a guy sat down beside me and asked me if I had a girlfriend.  I
felt just like you said, and he pushed his knew against me, but then some
people sat right behind us, so after awhile, he left."
         "Okay," Donny said, "so at least you know that much about it, and
I don't hear any pans clattering in the galley."
         "Less I go get one to clang on your head," Warren said.
         "I know I'm being dumb about it," the other boy sighed, "but what
if those people hadn't sat behind you, and what if you'd turned and seen a
nice looking, athletic guy sitting beside you, and hadn't moved away or
said anything, and something had happened right there in a seat in a movie
theater, wouldn't you be nervous telling a new friend about it?"
         "Yes," Warren whispered.

         "Okay, he showed me the next picture.  Kenny was bare chested,
just wearing his jeans, and barefoot, too, standing on the ladder with his
back to the rungs, and kind of posing by arching our with his arms behind
him.  Kit asked me if I'd pose for him the same way and added that he'd had
to touch Kenny a lot to get the pose just right and some boys didn't like
being touched on their bare chests by an older guy.  It was a beautiful
picture and so I just sat there looking at it and I think I nodded my head
a little.  We were sitting on hay bales in the loft and he knelt down in
front of me and unbuttoned my shirt and took it off.  Then he went down the
ladder ahead of me with his camera, and I came down almost to the bottom,
and turned around so I was facing out.  He came up beside me and whispered
Hi in my ear, then put his right hand on me, just holding really still.
His voice got more froggy and he asked me if it was okay.  I just nodded
because it felt incredible and if his voice was weird I don't think I had
any at all.  He was very serious about the pictures, so he kept changing
this and that from my chin to my legs, and each time he got me adjusted,
he's spend longer and longer just touching my chest and belly before he'd
make his shot.  When he'd taken four, he said it was good, and we went back
up in the loft and sat on the hay.  He pulled out another picture.  Kenny
was standing next to one of the wooden beams and he was just wearing his
underpants.  He asked me if that would be okay, and said that Kenny was a
little older than I was, thirteen, and maybe I was too young.  I just sat
there looking at the picture, it was even more beautiful than the one on
the ladder, and he came to me and took my shoes and sock off, then stood me
up and unbuckled my belt and took my shorts off.  The same beam was right
there so I went and leaned against it.  Kit stood behind it and pulled my
arms up behind my head and turned my head to the side, then went around in
front and knelt in front of me and spread my legs like Kenny was.  He
started touching me all over very gently and making me pant and he asked if
anyone had touched me before and I shook my head.  He said Kenny had wanted
him to be naked, too, and asked me if I wanted to see him that way and I
nodded.  He showed me another picture of Kenny in his underpants and he
was, you know, really big and I was, too, and he said after he'd molested
Kenny for an hour he wasn't big, so the second picture he'd showed me was
actually the last one he took, then he showed me the third one, and in it
Kenny was naked.  Then he stripped and stood in front of me so I could see
him, then he stood next to me really close and asked if he could molest me
like he had Kenny.  I said I wanted him to.  He took some pictures then
pulled my underpants down and lay me back in the hay and showed me more
pictures.  He asked me if I knew what cum was, sperm, and I said Kinda, The
next picture Kenny was lying back over a bale, his hand and feet in the
straw, and he had a white puddle streaked all over his chest and belly.
Kenny had let him cum on his body.  I was really panting by them, mostly
from his play-wrestling with me and letting me touch him while he touched
me.  He guided me to a bale and stretched me out in a pose, then he put his
mouth on me for a little while and sucked me.  That really made me get
excited and he knelt over my waist and said he was masturbating or jerking
off.  I did it along with him, then he started getting really tense and he
kinda hunched over me and said `I'm going to cum on you.'  It started
splashing on me until I had puddles on my chest and belly.  Then he took a
few more pictures and wiped me up with paper towels he had in his kit.  The
he sucked me again until something happened in his mouth.  Then he did it
again and I wasn't big anymore, so I posed against the wooden bean in my
underpants and he took two or three more pictures.  It took a couple of
hours because he asked me lots of questions and described everything and
told me how he'd been molested by his art teacher at school and it was the
best thing that ever happened to him and I told him it was for me to.  Then
we kissed for awhile and made another date and he drove me home.  Even by
Monday there was something in the paper about what happened to a kid my age
and everybody as school was talking about how horrible it was and it would
be better if the man had killed the kid instead of doing unspeakable things
with him and turning him to some kind of zombie.  I could hardly eat, then
Uncle Ben arrived the next day.  He could see something was bothering me.
Luckily my parents took off on a trip, so we had a lot of time together,
because I was afraid to tell him at first.  In fact, the only way he got me
to tell was by sort of figuring out what the problem was and telling me
something different happened to him when he was my age, and asking me if I
wanted to hear about it.  He used the same word as Kit, `mature', and that
made me get a boner right away, just like the first time.  I saw him get
one in his shorts, too, and when he saw I noticed he got up off my bed and
stripped and stood in front of me and held out his hand.  I got up and he
took my clothes off, asking me a lot about where Kit touched he until he
pulled my underpants down.  We lay back down on the bed, naked, and I
jerked him off so he'd cum all over me, my you know, boner, then I spread
my legs and he pulled me up on his knees and jerked me off with his
slippery hand an I sprayed a little sperm, too.  After that it happened a
bunch of times, sometimes with both of them, out in the woods, in my
bedroom, and in the barn.  Kit got some amazing images.  Then it was kind
of over.  I knew what it was all about, basically, a few hours of special
fun -- too intense to be called that, or `play' -- a week.  Big deal,
though it is a big deal, and isn't, which is what I guess makes it
confusion if you have a hit-or-miss start Anyway, I want to have him try to
go up inside me and cum in me while we're on this trip.  If you'd like to
be there, it would be really special, but it can happen while you're on
watch and we're down below, if you want.
         "End of story."

         "Has anything happened with boys your own age?" Warren asked.
         "No," Donny said, "and I think that would be too much like being
gay for me, you know, feeling romantic and falling in love and maybe being
jealous or something.  With a man, that's not going to happen, it's more
what it is for what it is, not something out of `Romeo and Juliet', and to
me that's cool.  But if I was with another boy and a man, that might even
be best."
         "Your uncle is very attractive," the older boy whispered over the
gentle sea noises.
         "Do you want to?"
         "Yes."
         "He likes to molest me while I'm practicing steering," Donny said,
"touch me all over and get me in my underpants, than he gets naked and it
keeps happening until I'm naked and he sperms on my tummy, then makes me
cum with his wet hand.  It's kinda the same every time and takes about half
an hour."
         "Okay," Warren said, adding: "will you stay right by me while it's
happening?"
         "If you want me to," his friend replied, "he can get sperm all
over both of us, and then you can help him go up inside me because we have
to go really slow and careful the first time."


         This is Hollywood somewhere between Griffith Park and the sign.
John and Carol slipped back into their clothes and she took him home, where
Britt joined them and they lived and multiplied happily for many years.  In
the best tradition of storytelling, Sandy recovered to become an algebra
teacher, and the boat was not sold but leased back with Mr. Christie and
friends using her every August.  Jenny's program flourished to the point
she took the concept public in 1979 and, though there's no sigh of her on
the "Fortune 500", her operations are to be found in half the malls in
America, if you know where to volunteer.  Electra had a hard delivery but
in the end produced twin girls and is now the mother of three.  La Vista
will be there long after the rails have rusted to powder.

THE END

xxx