Mama was a Preacher
Chapter Six 
Onward Christian Soldiers
Copyright 1996 AUTHOR22@aol.com
All rights reserved.

The week after the song-fest was spent organizing, organizing everything. 

Incoming mail had been heavy.  The new format presenting, as separate 
broadcasts, both Mama's and Ray's sermons had more than doubled the response.

A week had gone by before Harry and Steven had time to listen to the tapes 
from the fest. At first, they were just monitoring the entire series of 
tapes; 14 in all. As they did so, they kept getting drawn back into the 
recordings. It was difficult to break away, to do other things. When they 
got to the part we wanted to use for the album, they couldn't believe what 
they were experiencing. According to Harry it was just like being there. 
The energy, the power, the "feeling" were all there.

The boys recognized that their listening to the album was couched in a 
setting of the entire series of tapes, the entire song-fest. The album, 
by it's self might not be as powerful.

Ray wanted everyone to be present for the first playback of the album, as an 
album. Since the Wisers were busy running KLRA until midnight, our conference 
was set for one o'clock in the morning.

Chairs were moved into the larger of the two studios. Steven was at the 
control board. Ray was seated in the center, flanked by Mama and Ruth. 
Peter, Jackie, Jerry, and me were sitting in the second row.

We were all tired. The day had been a taxing one, starting at 6 AM. Now it 
was past one. I slouched in my chair, leaned back and closed my eyes.

Steven rolled the tape.

The frilly sounds of Jackie's intro to "Beautiful Isle of Somewhere," were 
relaxing, and quite beautiful. Peter's voice merged with the frill, then 
continued to dominance. The chorus was perfect. Harry had done a beautiful 
job of balancing the microphones as the congregation contributed to the 
performance.

"All Things Bright and Beautiful", followed. Even though we had done it a 
hundred times before, it was exciting. And there was something else. You could feel 
the power start to build.

I sat up in my chair. The "thing" was there.  No question about it, I could 
feel it in my bones. It had been captured on tape.

The number closed. You could hear the audience in the background. Then 
there was silence, about five seconds of silence.

A startling note drove into your brain. I could see myself as I had jumped 
from the platform in that final number. The entire scene, from the leap off 
of the stage to that explosive touch of Mary-Lou paraded through my mind as 
my memory guided my thoughts, repeating that mercuric event.

Was it just me? Did it hit me this hard because I had been part of it? I 
glanced at Jerry. His face was flushed. Jackie was grinning from ear to 
ear. No doubt about it, everyone in the room had been touched by the album. 
No, not touched, had been hammered over head, and pushed to the edge of 
reality, then dragged down the road to fulfillment.

Ray gasped. "That is the most powerful recording I have ever heard." 

No one could believe the effect it had on them.

"Steven, the first thing tomorrow morning I want you and Harry to make 36
copies of that. I want that aired on all of our stations next Sunday night 
in place of my sermon." He looked at mama. "Sister, why don't you and I 
work on a sermon to follow that recording. Oh thank you Jesus! Thank you, 
thank you, thank you."

------------------

As the month of August approached, the subject of school in California had 
resurfaced. The distribution of the transcriptions had been delayed, due to 
a shortage of fresh disks.

Jerry wanted to visit Crabtree before leaving for school, and had written a 
letter to his mother. 

He had received two letters. Both addressed to him care of the ministry. 
One was from his mother the other from his brother Todd. 

He and I were alone sitting on our bed. He opened the one from his mother 
and read it aloud.

"Dear Son: We have been listening to you and Johnny on the radio, and are 
very proud of you.  The news about your going to that expensive school in 
California is just wonderful. Things have not been going smoothly here. 
Todd and papa got into an argument, so Todd is now living down in Clinton. 
Other than that it's just the same old routine. Even though I miss you 
terribly, I don't think now is the time for you to come for a visit. The 
whole family sends its love, especially papa and Marjory.  Love, Ma."

He opened the letter from Todd and read it to me. "Hey little brother, how 
are things going with the rich and famous? You are quite the talk of the 
town. Almost every day you hear someone talk about you and Johnny. Mom 
probably wrote to you that I moved into Clinton, but I doubt if she told 
you I had moved in with Patsy. She still works at the Blue Bell Cafe. And 
she wont shut up about how good of a fuck you were.  And, little brother, 
that has caused a major scandal here and in Crabtree. The story got out 
about my birthday present to you. It got back to Pa and he blew a fuse. So 
I'd suggest you skip coming home till next summer. In the meantime maybe I 
can save enough money to come visit you in Los Angeles.  Love ... and I 
miss you, you little fucker.  Todd."

"I can't make a move without steppin in shit." His eager smile as he had 
began to read the first letter had been replaced with a look of sadness. 
I could see tears starting to form in his eyes.

I jumped up off the bed, pushed him down, jumped on top of him. Holding him 
under me I began kissing him. "Fuck the whole world. I love you, and you 
love me. We don't need any one else, we've got each other."

His arms went around me, hugging me tightly against his body. I began kissing 
away the tears that were now a torrent flowing down his cheeks. A smile
began to form as his wet eyes met mine. "Don't ever leave me Johnny. I 
don't think I could stand to live without you."

---------------

Monday, the 17th of August was suddenly on the calendar. The day of 
departure had come. Jackie had instructions to find a manufacturer 
for the recordings. It was high on his list of things to do.

We packed all of our clothes and possessions into the Rumble seat of the 
Model "A". Kissed everyone good bye, lied about writing every day, and 
headed west. 

Our route took us through Fort Smith. We couldn't resist the temptation to 
make a stop at KWHN. In the intervening years the station had changed 
management. Nickdemon still owned the station, but there had been four 
program directors since Howard Harvey.

It was early evening when we passed through Oklahoma City. We passed a bill 
board touting the pleasures of "The Sands Motel" in Broken Arrow. The 
picture of the swimming pool was enticing. The Sands also had a AAA rated 
Restaurant.

Jackie checked us in as Jerry and I investigate the pool. The cool water 
was inviting. However, we had not eaten since we left Little Rock. Food won 
out in the battle of "Whats' next?"

The restaurant was a disappointment. The service was terrible, the food was 
cold, the brown gravy had a skin on it. We were no longer hungry when we 
left the establishment, so it had served its purpose. Jerry pointed out a 
"Waffle House" restaurant down the street. We'd have breakfast there before 
departing for Albuquerque.

This was the first night the three of us had ever been by ourselves. I 
could feel the love that we shared for each other. It was like a warm 
breeze on a cool night. It was not demanding. It was not lustful. It was 
the out and out pleasure of being in the company of someone about whom you 
really cared.

Jackie still kept extra swimming trunks in the back of the Ford. I must 
have grown a lot since that first night at the motel in Little Rock. Those 
same trunks were as tight as a drum. You could see my cock as it laid 
vertically pointing toward my naval. I was bending over trying to tuck my 
scrotum inside of the leg opening, when I was shoved from behind and landed 
face down on the bed. Jerry turned me over and sat on my chest, nibbling at 
my lips. Jackie had lifted my legs and tugged the shorts to my ankles. My 
rod had been instant. He bent over and enveloped my head with a slurping 
sound. Moments later his face was next to ours. We didn't kiss, but we did 
share each others breath. We didn't fondle, but we shared each other 
perspiration.


"Ok you guys, I'm going to the car and bring in all the trunks I've got.  
Can't have you running around in public buck naked." He started toward the 
door. "I'll be back in just a second so don't start something you can't 
finish." The door closed behind him.

"Ain't love grand?"

"So Jerry, who do you love the most, me or Jackie."

His look was sly. "If you have to ask then I love him more."

"Fucker. You made me promise that I would never leave you, and I won't. But 
there is room in my heart for Jackie."

"Yeah I know. Me too. But it isn't the same. He's more like a good buddy 
that shares my every secret. But you. You are my reason for getting up in 
the morning. You are my reason for taking my next breath." He had moved 
from sitting on my chest to laying full length on my body.  

I could feel the pulse of his hard cock. I could feel every muscle in his 
body. As with that first night under the platform, my finger tips explored, 
and saw parts of his body hidden from my view. The world could not get any 
better than it was right then.

Jackie came back with two pairs of trunks that were so large that my dick 
was falling out of the legs. Jerry's weren't much better. "You guys gotta 
wear your Jockey shorts under there. We need to get you some decent swim 
wear before we get to California.

For more than an hour we attacked each other under water. Our tag playing 
and wrestling became too personal, too intimate. Each of us knew it, yet we 
could not restrain ourselves. It was too easy to caress bottoms, grope
crotches, let lips press against the others; all in the name of sport.

Our playing was too close to how we really felt, too close to what we 
wanted to accomplish in the privacy of our room. We didn't need the facade 
of play. Total privacy was just a few feet away.

We retired to our room, and flung our wet clothing into the shower, 
simultaneously landing in each others arms on the bed.

Jackie had gained the middle position, laying on his back. Jerry was on his 
right, head on his shoulder. I was on the left.

Jerry's eyes met mine; our souls linked in an almost audible thump. Jackie's 
arms were around our shoulders, holding us close. He turned and kissed
Jerry's ear, then mine.

The next morning Jerry was sitting on my chest. "Come on. I'm hungry, let's 
get some food."

Jackie stirred. His eye lids fluttered open. "What time is it?"

"I don't know. But I'm hungry."

Jackie's dick was at full attention. I motioned for Jerry to play with his 
balls, while I grasped his shaft with both hands.

"Don't start something you can't finish."

I laughed. "Ha! This shouldn't take more than 30 seconds."

And it didn't.

Breakfast at the Waffle House was great. We devoured every crumb of food 
they put on our plate. We were on the road by seven-thirty.

We continued westward. Jackie had mentioned the Carlsbad Caverns in New 
Mexico.  Visiting it would be about 300 miles out of our way, so we 
abandoned the idea in favor of a stop off in Las Vegas

The highway across Oklahoma, and Texas is mostly desert. We drove all day 
stopping only for gas and a couple of sandwiches. The five hundred miles 
took more than 14 hours. The Model "A" was not built for speed. We checked 
into a tiny motel on the west side of Albuquerque at 10 o'clock. The manager 
had just turned on the "No Vacancy" sign as we entered her office. She
had only one room. It had only one bed; a double. Jackie said "Guess it 
will have to do." 

We showered, taking turns washing each others back. We were too tired for 
anything but sleep. We were practically on top of each other. Sleep was 
almost instant.

The next morning I woke with Jerry wrapped around me. Jackie was asleep on 
the floor. I pinched Jerry's nose closed so he would have to breath through 
his mouth. As it opened I stuck my tongue in, putting my fingers at the 
sides of his jaw so he could not close his mouth. My lips closed around 
his, as my lungs pumped air into his. My attack startled him into 
consciousness. Defensively he pushed my head away, then sunk his teeth 
into my neck, sucking heavily, sucking long enough to leave a mouth shaped 
bruise high on the side of my neck. He had branded me as his property. 
No rustling allowed.

We had skipped dinner. We found a pancake house west of the city. All you 
can eat for $2.95. We wiped them out.

Las Vegas was our destination for tonight. It was more than 500 miles away; 
400 of it westward, and 100 north. The land was not flat; there were 
mountains to be crossed. It would be another long, hard drive.

We didn't make it, and settled for another small motel in Kingman Arizona, 
a hundred miles short. We were on the road again by six, and in the 
outskirts of Las Vegas by nine.

Las Vegas was not the magnificent sprawling resort area that it is today. 
The Flamingo Hotel was under construction several miles from the city. All 
of the action was within a few square blocks centering on Fremont Street.

As we drove down the main street we were amazed at the gaudiness of the 
town. Bright Marquee's resembling those on movie theaters advertised that 
every thing was FREE. People were walking down the streets with bottles of 
beer in their hands. Gamblers were huddled around Crap tables that bordered 
the side walk. A continuous clanging cacophony of the sounds of coins being 
disgorged by slot machines blanketed all other sounds.

Our heads were stuck out the windows trying to see all that there was to 
see. 

Jerry pointed to a building ahead and to the right. "Look, there's a 
Hotel." 

A huge neon sign proclaimed it to be the California Hotel. Jackie turned 
right on to a side street, paralleling the hotel. A ramp led into the 
building. Another sign said, "Free Parking."

The front desk was hidden in a forest of One Arm Bandits. A husky woman was 
standing behind the counter filing her finger nails, a bored expression 
upon her face. 

She looked up when Jackie asked, "Have any vacancies?"

The bored expression evaporated. "Nothin but, honey. Whatcha' want."

"Whatcha' got?"

"For you baby, more than you could handle." She cut the laugh, back to 
business. "Room is Twelve-Fifty. Just you and the kids?"

He nodded.  My attention was drawn to the  action at the card tables, but 
the conversation at the desk didn't escape me any more than it did Jerry.

Jackie was filling out the registration form.

The woman continued her charade, "For Twelve-Fifty, you otta ditch the 
kiddies, and get a room of your own."

There was no bell boy. It was just as well, as we had no luggage.

Jackie asked about a place to eat. The desk clerk handed him a stack of 
brochures advertising great places, great food, all you can eat. Buffets 
that could feed an army, yet cost under $3.00.

Our room key said we were on the 6th floor. Only one of the two elevators 
was working, and it seemed to take for ever. Eventually it arrived disgorging 
a middle aged cowboy; tall, thin, wearing a western hat and pointed toe
black boots. He was puffing a cigar. A trail of compressed cigar smoke 
followed his exit. 

The room had two double beds, a good sized shower, and another sign offering 
to double the value of your first bet on roulette. Air conditioning
made the room comfortable while outside the temperature was in the low one 
hundreds.

A second placard said that if we stopped by the promotion center we would 
be given a book of free coupons, and a free coffee cup bearing the 
"California Hotel" insignia.

We stopped at the front desk and asked where the promotion center was. The 
same woman pointed around the corner. The promotion center, while hidden 
from the front desk, was an extension of it. Our desk clerk now became the 
promotion clerk, giving Jackie three mugs and three books of coupons.

The top coupon in the book was a two for one at their buffet. Lighted signs 
hung from the ceiling pointing the viewer to everything except the exit. 
The buffet was on the second floor.

There were ten people ahead of us waiting for the buffet to open. It was 
10:30, it opened at 11:00.

The line was on a balcony overlooking the players on the first floor. There 
was a mixture of boredom and excitement coming from below as we looked down 
on people playing Black Jack, Craps, and Roulette.

All of the Black Jack players looked bored, and that included the dealer. 
There was a lot of excitement coming from the Crap table. The players 
eagerly mouthed sentiments like "Bring Home the Bacon", "New Shoes for 
Baby", and "Seven come eleven". The dealers loudly proclaimed a winner, 
barely taking note of those who lost. At the roulette table the excitement 
came in waves. You could feel the tension building when the ball was spinning 
in the wheel, then climax as the ball fell towards the center bouncing
around before finally coming to rest. A bored expression soon replaced the 
one of interest while the dealer fiddled with the stacks of chips, and 
evened everything up like he was preparing for a inspection. 

Jerry asked Jackie to explain how the games worked. The Black Jack had 
something to do with getting as close to 21 points as you could. His 
explanation of Craps was too complicated to follow. I had the impression 
that he really didn't know either. Roulette was easy to understand. 
36 Numbers, with bets which paid off 36 to one. Also groups of numbers, 
Red and Black, and Even and Odd. They paid off evenly. Then another group 
where the numbers were divided in groups of twelve: one through twelve, 
thirteen through twenty four, and twenty five through thirty six. 
Each of those paid off two to one. I remarked, "One-Two-Three," 
referring to Jackie's theory of "the thing".

The food line finally started moving. The check for the three of us was 
just six dollars plus the coupon. 

There was lots and lots of food. Fresh and canned fruit, all chilled and 
resting on a bed of ice. At least a half dozen kinds of salad were displayed. 
A sign said "Help your self to as much as you can eat, but eat all
you take." Below that in red letters it said, "No take outs". On a different 
counter were all kinds of hot foods: Pork Chops, Fish, Roast Beef,
Roast Turkey, Spaghetti, Stir Fry, and Swiss Steak. 

I had loaded my platter with the fruit and salad. There was a separate 
section that had help yourself drinks: Coca Cola, Root Beer, Seven-Up, 
Coffee, Tea, and Milk.

Jerry and I each had six plates of food. Jackie had only three. Then there 
was desert. Pies: apple, peach, apricot, cherry, banana cream, chocolate, 
and coconut. I had never seen so much food in one place. It made the pot 
luck dinners at the revival meetings look skimpy.

We were so stuffed, that we could hardly move. Even walking down the stairs 
to the first floor was uncomfortable.

An excitement gripped me as we walked past the tables. We paused for a 
moment at the Roulette wheel. "Jackie, put a buck on the Red."

He pulled out one of the coupon books, extracted the double the bet coupon, 
and laid it together with a dollar bill on red.

The dealer spun the wheel.  I could feel an unknown tension grasping at my 
stomach. The whirling sound of the ball, shifted to a plunking, bouncing 
sound. It looked like it was going to settle into 1 Black. Then ricocheted 
into a Red pocket on the other side of the wheel. The dealer replaced the 
Bill and Coupon with 4 Chips.  

Jackie pulled out the second book and tore out the double your bet coupon. 
A large man wearing a gold badge tapped Jackie on the shoulder. "No one 
under 21 is allowed at the tables." He was gazing in our direction.

Jackie stuffed the chips and the coupon into his pocket, and we exited the 
hotel. All along the street there was nothing but open doors and gambling 
tables or slot machines. It was exciting.

Jerry suggested that we go back to the California and use the other two 
coupons. He and I would go to the balcony where we had waited in line for 
the buffet. It was decided that what ever simultaneously flashed into our 
minds would be the bet.  We would signal Black by scratching our noses, Red 
by scratching the left ear, Even would be hand in the left pocket. Odd 
would be hand in the right pocket. If the signals were different, then we'd 
skip the bet.

Jackie looked up as we leaned over the railing. The dealer was stacking 
chips. I put my hand in my right pocket. Jerry was scratching his nose.

The wheel spun, the ball bounced. It landed in Green 00.

I scratched my left ear, Jerry scratched his balls. Jackie shrugged his 
shoulders and left the table to join us on the balcony.

We added two more signals. Number of extended fingers on the right hand 
would signal first twelve, second twelve, or third twelve. He returned to 
the table.

This time both Jerry and I had our hands in our right pockets. Jackie must 
have agreed as he placed all four chips and a double the bet coupon on Odd. 

The dealer was taking his time, stacking chips. Finally, he spun the wheel, 
added the ball. We could hear the ball clattering towards a final destination 
even up on the balcony.  I squeezed Jerry's hand in anticipation.
Again the ball bounced. Seven was the number.  Odd.  We won. 

The dealer scooped off the bets from the loosing spots, then began laying 
out chips in payment for the ones still on the board. We now had 16 bucks. 
"Let's go for one of the 3 twelves," I whispered to Jerry. We both extended 
two fingers.

Jackie laid the 16 chips on the space labeled 13 thru 24. I could feel my 
heart pound as the ball bounced around the wheel. It landed on 8, and 
bounced across to 14. We now had 48 dollars. He reached into his pocket, 
extracted the last double your bet coupon, waved it in our direction. 
Simultaneously we extended three fingers. The bet was laid, the wheel spun, 
my hand was squeezing Jerry's in hopeful anticipation. The ball settled 
into 32. I couldn't believe my eyes.

"Let's go for a single number."

Jerry nodded his head in agreement. "You take a number, and then I'll take 
one. We'll add them together and that will be it OK?"

"Three!"

Jerry said "Four."

We both extended seven fingers. Jackie look puzzled. We pointed toward the 
center of the board. He pointed at the seven space. We shook our heads 
"Yes."

This time the dealer took forever to get his work space in order. Then the 
pit boss started talking to him.  All the while we were busy multiplying 
the bet by 36.  We had two hundred and eighty eight dollars riding on 
seven. Jerry said, "What are we going to do with morn' a thousand dollars?"

I said something about his arithmetic wasn't very good. We started to 
debate what the payoff would be. The wheel finally spun, some one had moved 
in front of the wheel, we couldn't see what was happening. Suddenly there 
was a yelp from below that could have been heard all the way to Little 
Rock. It sounded like Jackie, but we couldn't see what was happening. 
Finally that someone moved and we could see. The dealer was laying stacks 
and stacks of chips in front of him. But they were strange looking chips. 
They appeared to be red, with gold and silver stripes on them.

Someone handed Jackie a bucket to put his chips in. The bucket was full, 
and he was now stuffing the chips into his pockets. Another coin bucket was 
put on the table, and the rest of the chips disappeared into it.

He moved from the table toward the cashiers cage. There were six people in 
front of him. The time seemed to stretch out into eternity. Finally he 
placed the two buckets on the counter, and began unloading the chips from 
his pockets. We could see the girl count out ten bills, pause, count out 
three more from a different drawer, three more from still another drawer, 
and finally four more.

"See I was right. Morn'a thousand dollars. Those first ten bills must have 
been hundreds."

We scurried down from the balcony, and met Jackie at the elevator.

"How much?" Jerry asked his voice laced with exhilaration.

Jackie put his fingers to his lips, "Shush. We'll talk about it in the 
room."

Now it was the elevator that seemed to take forever.

We were in the room. The door was closed. Jackie laid our winnings on the 
bed. Well, let me tell you a secret. If you are a 15 year old youngster 
from the hills of Arkansas, and have never seen a thousand dollar bill, 
those extra zeros are mind-boggling.

"Ten thousand three hundred and sixty eight dollars." Jerry was practically 
screaming in joy. "That's morn' three thousand each. Whatever are we a 
gonna do with that much money."

Jackie handed each of us three one thousand dollars bills, and a one 
hundred. We both passed the larger bills back to him asking that he keep it 
till we needed it for something important.

Looking back, it seems odd that we were content with the money, that we 
didn't want to go back to the tables to become rich. Providence had stepped 
in allowing us to keep our winnings.

The excitement of being a winner had passed. Again we left the hotel, walking 
westward on Fremont Street. There didn't seem to be much else to do
other than gamble and eat. We had over indulged in both. The walk was 
pleasant, but short. The sun had begun to set, the air was no longer in the 
lower one hundreds.

A comforting feeling of well being had replaced the gnawing feeling of a 
full heart. Jerry left us for a few minutes; he had seen something in a 
shop that struck his fancy. He had more than a hundred dollars in his 
pocket. More money than he ever had possessed in his life.

He returned, and pushed himself between us. His arms flopped across our 
shoulders, "So what do you think?"

The smell of new clothing filled my nostrils. I looked at him. He was 
wearing tight western Levi's, a brilliant blue satin cowboy shirt, and 
black riding boots. My eyes had started at his feet and moved upward, 
finally climbing to the top of his head which was framed in the most handsome 
cowboy hat that I had ever seen. My heart leapt in joy.  The only
thing that I wanted to do was drag him into our room, take all of those 
clothes from that beautiful body, and show him just how much I loved him.

And that is exactly what I did.

Jackie had left us alone. We were stilling laying nakedly side by side, our 
passions having been exorcised. He moved down toward his new Levis, my foot 
caught them first and kicked them beyond his reach.

"I wasn't gonna put them on. I got somethn' for you." He walked over to his 
pants, and pulled something from one of the pockets. Tossed the pants far 
from the bed, and laid on top of me. His eyes looked deeply into mine. His 
lips were brushing mine as he spoke. "Johnny," he paused. His lips took a 
purchase on mine. His soul was in that kiss. I could feel the pace of his 
heart increase. His taste was sweet and tasty. "Johnny, I love the hell 
out of you."

He sat up, resting on my stomach, his limp dick resting in my belly button. 
He was holding a small package wrapped in white paper. He unfolded it. 
"This is for you. And you ain't never to take it off."

It was a small gold cross. In the center was a tiny red stone, with what 
appeared to be diamonds at each of the four ends. "Raise your head."

I did as I was told and he fastened the gold chain around my neck.

I reached up putting my hands behind his neck pulling him back down so that 
our lips were again touching. 

"So do you like the new outfit?"

"Yeah, but I like you better in the one you've got on." I kissed his bare 
shoulder, hugging him tightly to my chest.

----------------

That night we splurged. Jackie had found a restaurant that specialized in 
lobster, and we took a taxi. 

The maitre d' escorted us to a dimly lit table in a back corner of the room. 
A waiter appeared shortly asking what we would like to drink. We declined 
drinks. He left leaving us with a menu.  I noticed the lobster was priced 
by the ounce. The waiter spoke with an accent that Jackie said ws French.
Jackie insisted that we each have a Maine lobster. 

The waiter returned, the lobster and Champagne were ordered. The waiter 
started to say something about the champagne, but Jackie put a ten dollar 
bill on his tray, and the waiter said "Yes, sir. A bottle of our best." 
Chateau Rothschild Grand Premier Cru 1944.

He returned carrying a silver bucket containing crushed ice and a bottle 
with a red and gold label.

An strangely-shaped stemmed glass was placed at each setting.

The waiter withdrew the bottle displaying the label to each of us. Jackie 
shook his head apparently agreeing that this is what we ordered. A cork was 
secured in a gold colored metallic foil, and further locked into position 
by a wire binding. He untwisted the wire and removed it. He then draped the 
bottle in a white linen napkin, grasped the hidden cork, and turned it. A 
loud pop followed. At the same time the cork seemed to bounce upward into 
the napkin.

With a deft turn of his hand the top of the bottle was exposed. He leaned 
forward and poured a small amount of the liquid into Jackie's glass. You 
could see a stream of tiny bubbles rise upward from the bottom of the 
glass. Jackie moved the glass to his lips, tasted it, and remarked "Very 
good." The waiter then filled the other two glasses before adding more to 
the first glass.

Another waiter arrived pushing a cart. He made a salad within our view.  
The lettuce was tossed, tomatoes were added, along with cheese, and an oil 
and vinegar dressing. 

The taste of the salad changed the taste of the champagne which at first 
had been a little sour. It now tasted neither sour or sweet, just tingly.

The first waiter returned and tied bibs around our necks. "To protect the 
young gentlemen."

The salad cart had been replaced with another holding three bowls of melted 
butter, 3 silver nut crackers, and 3 plates hidden beneath silver covers.

The three nut crackers were laid along side of our knifes, the bowls of 
butter were placed to the back of the salad plates. Then with a flare the 
three salad plates were replaced by the platters which had been hidden 
under the silver covers; the boiled Maine Lobster.

Jackie had picked up one of the nut crackers applying it to a shell covered 
claw. He squeezed it slightly, and the armor popped open. We followed suite 
with the same results. Using a little fork I extracted a piece of the white 
meat. It looked tender, but small. The smell was different and enticing.

Following Jackie's lead I dipped the Lobster into the butter, then placed 
it in my mouth. It was delicious. The satiny taste of the butter drew my 
attention to the bubbly champagne. The wine cut through the satiny feeling 
in my mouth complementing the flavor of the butter and meat. The two went 
together like lovers destined for eternity. 

My senses were satiated. My heart was full. My taste buds teased to the 
point of saturation. My being was totally immersed in pleasure. Each sense 
had been totally satisfied. I was in love with the decadent pleasures of 
life.

The check came; it was astronomical, but that day we could afford it.

It had been another full day, full of new adventures. Our streak of luck at 
the tables. Jerry's new clothes. The gold cross with the ruby stone. The 
bedroom play. The lobster and Champagne.

It was time for sleep. Tomorrow it would be on to Los Angeles. Jerry and I 
had crawled into bed. Jackie came out of the shower and started to lay down 
in the other one. "Come on now.  We want you over here." Jerry had moved 
against the wall making room for him between the two of us.

He clicked off the light and joined us. 

We assumed our most favorite of positions. Jackie on his back, Jerry and I 
laying in his arms, heads on his shoulders, facing each other. Jerry stuck 
his tongue out, and flicked it, taunting me to partake of his flesh. I met 
his challenge. Our tongues touched and coaxed us to draw even closer.

We had almost forgotten our mentor as we lay there in his arms. Our naked 
bodies touched his from cheek to toe. Our organs were not at attention. 
This was devotion, not passion. Our dicks had not yet fallen off. But deep 
down inside we knew that even our lustful side was welcomed in the heart of 
the other.

We slept.

The next morning we played our "start the day routine", and had Jackie up 
and ready to leave the bed within two minutes. Playfully he said, "What a 
great way to start the day."

Jerry looked across Jackie's chest. Our eyes met, and locked. "What am I, 
Shredded Wheat? Don't I get any?"

I laughed. "Nope. I'm keeping you horny till later."

He moved across Jackie and sat on my stomach, his prick literally pulsing. 
My hand went around it's shaft. Frolicsomly I rubbed it's length and was 
instantly rewarded with a full ejaculation that landed on my nose and 
mouth.

"Fucker!" I started to lick his stickiness from my lips, but his tongue 
again met mine. 

His lips covered mine. He relaxed the pressure, "Did I ever tell you just 
how much I love you?"

"Yeah, about 30 seconds ago." I wiped some of his sperm from my cheek and 
onto his. His mouth returned to mine.

Then just as suddenly as it had begun, he sprang from on top of me to the 
floor.

While I was showering they messed up the other bed. We had to erase any 
clue that might lead strangers to a correct assessment of our relationship.

It was past eight o'clock by the time we had checked out of the hotel. The 
next leg of our trip would take us through a little truck stop town by the 
name of Barstow, then on to San Bernardino, and finally Los Angeles. The 
distance was about 350 miles. That was shorter than each of the previous 
legs. However, it was mostly through desert, and up mountains. The Model 
"A", was a solid vehicle. We had only one problem and that was at the crest 
of a mountain, where the radiator started to boil over. We rested just 
before the crest, letting the engine cool down, then coasted about 12 miles 
into a service station in Baker, California.

We added water and oil, filled the tank with gas, and proceeded westward on 
our trek.

It was close to four in the afternoon when we entered the Los Angeles City 
Limits on Route 66.

We had intersected highway 101, and continued into Los Angeles.

"I want to show you kids something." Jackie had turned at a road sign which 
said Echo Park. "My grandmother used to bring me to church here."

We paralleled a park containing a small lake. It was just a short distance 
to the northern end. We turned left, and then right. "See that large white 
building." He pointed toward a large structure that had a big dome. On top 
of the dome was a Cross. Next to the dome was a radio tower.

"That's where I first got interested in music. And that's where I first 
learned about the 'Thing." 

At Sunset Boulevard we made a left. A small motel was on the left side of 
Sunset. An archway led into a court yard. "We are going to stay here tonight.
I want to show you a bit of Christian church history ... California style."

We left the car parked in front of our room, and walked back a block, then 
down to the mysterious building.

"That's Angelus Temple.  Ever heard of it?"

We shook our heads, "No."

"Well that church was built by a preacher lady who knew how to harness 'The 
Thing' like no one I've yet to meet."

We crossed the street to the front entrance, and walked into a long hallway 
which ran along the entire front of the building. Along the inner wall of 
the hallway were several long glass cases which contained crutches, braces, 
and even wheel chairs. "Sister Aimee could heal the sick, with just a touch 
of her hand."

We had passed through a set of double doors and into a large auditorium. 
You could see four aisles with seats on both sides. At the end of the room 
was a large stage. I looked behind me and saw that there was also a balcony 
which stretched almost to the top of the dome.

"See that ramp." Jackie pointed to a long walkway which extended from just 
below the balcony, sweeping along the right wall all the way to the stage. 
"That's where she would enter. She didn't have a spot light on her, yet 
when she entered that door, everyone knew she was there. She wore a long 
white dress, with a white cape. As she moved down the ramp the cape would 
fan out behind her, and of course every eye in the place followed her 
movement to the stage. She even had her own radio station," he pointed up 
to the top of the balcony. You could see red lights on the radio transmitter. 
"They were the first gospel station in the United States. They shared
a frequency with another station. KRKD had to leave the air at seven every 
evening when Sister Aimee's station went on. There was a boom which extended 
from the curtains behind the stage with a microphone which could follow
her as she moved."

We had walked further down the aisle. "She had a flair for the dramatic. 
You think your Mama's idea of sermon and music intermixed was unique. No 
way. Aimee did that in the 1920's. She called them Cantatas. When I was 
about 10, a dog had bitten my hand. Grandma brought me to a healing service. 
Anyone who needed healing stood in a line. As each person reached the
head of the line they would move out on to the stage. Grandma insisted that 
I get in the line. A church worker had her fill out a form which told about 
what needed to be healed. I was nervous as could be when it was my turn. I 
moved from the darkness of the line onto the bright stage. I remember being 
so close to her that I could smell her sweat. She looked down into my eyes, 
then glanced at the piece of paper. She remarked something stupid about god 
and dog bites. She looked back at me, touched my forehead, and that's all I 
remember, except a flash of white light in my mind. I couldn't have been 
unconscious for more than five seconds, because I remember one of the 
workers laying me flat on my back. I tried to get up, but the worker 
insisted that I stay put.

We turned and moved back up the aisle, and exited the building. As we 
walked toward the motel Jackie continued, "That's where I first learned 
about the power of the mind. I had always wanted to re-experience that, to 
try and get a handle on what it was and how it worked. But until that night 
with you in Macon I never even came close to it. Yet, at 15 you have made 
it happen twice. Not as good as Aimee McPherson, but when you get to be her 
age I'd bet you will be even better than she was."

I asked, "What happened to her?"

"She died of an over dose of sleeping pills. The newspapers tried to make 
everyone think it was suicide. But I'd bet that she needed them to come 
down from the hype of an evening on stage."

It was now past seven. We were hungry. We drove further west on Sunset 
looking for a place to eat. I spotted something strange. It didn't really 
look like a restaurant, but a sign said it was. The building had a small 
dome in the center and golden spires on either side. The building seemed to 
be part of an entrance way into a well maintained garden. At the rear of 
the garden was another single story white building which closed off the 
rear. Golden letters were placed vertically on one of the spires, "S.R.F".

"What's that." I pointed toward the building.

"I haven't the faintest," was Jackie's reply.

"Let's eat there."

Jerry echoed my sentiments. "Yeah, that looks interesting. Boy, I'm hungry, 
I could eat a horse."

Jackie turned left at the next intersection, then around a block, and 
parked in front of the SRF.

The front of the restaurant was glass, and you could see the diners sitting 
at tables.  The waitresses were dressed in long, flimsy things that Jackie 
said were called sari's. 

The woman who seated us looked like she was in her late fifties. Her hair 
was gray and neatly brushed. Under the Sari was a simple flower patterned 
dress in blue and white.

As she handed us a menu, she said, "The Lentil Curry is very good tonight."

The restaurant was vegetarian; they served no meat. We elected to follow 
her advice. The diner included a tea made from mint leaves. There was honey 
on the table if you wanted to sweeten it. At the end she brought us each a 
tiny slice of a layered pastry containing nuts and honey. 

The food was good. The bill was far less than we had expected to pay.

Afterward we continued further west. We crossed Vine Street, and Jackie 
pointed out the NBC Radio Studios. At Highland we noticed a large building 
across the street and on the right. A sign said this was Hollywood High 
School. A boy, about our age was standing on the corner, his thumb out. His 
jeans were so tight you could see his cock. He smiled until he focused on 
Jerry and I, then put his hand onto his dick, and moved his hips toward us.

"What was that all about." I asked.

"He's a hustler. A whore. He's selling his dick."

Both Jerry and I glanced at each other in wonderment. Then turned to look 
back at the boy, who had again put his thumb out. He had a nice looking 
butt.

At the next light we made a right, and drove up to Hollywood Boulevard, then 
another right driving down the main street of film-city. We passed Graumans 
Chinese Theater. We wanted to stop and look at the hand prints of the stars 
that had been made in the cement of the court yard, but there were too many 
people. The city part of Hollywood was very short. We again crossed Vine 
street, and drove back to our motel.

Jackie was tired, and wanted to go to bed. I had an odd feeling, and wanted 
to return to Angelus Temple. Jerry accompanied me.

We entered the same front door as we had earlier. There was a stairway that 
led up to the balcony area where the radio station was located. There was a 
chain across the stairs with a sign that said "No admittance". I disregarded 
the sign, ducked under it and continued up the stairs. Jerry followed.

At the top I looked to my right and saw a room that I presumed contained the 
Radio Transmitter. Looking behind me I could see a glass-enclosed studio 
with a grand piano.

We walked further northward. There was a window that overlooked the 
auditorium. As I gazed into the dimly lit room I could visualize 
the woman in white sweeping down that ramp toward the stage.

A chill came over me; it was as though the ghost of some ancient power was 
haunting the place.

A man came out of the transmitter room walking toward us. I could tell that 
he was going to throw us out. My eyes met his, for just a moment. He 
stopped, turned around and reentered the room.

"Let's get out of here. This place gives me the willies." My body was 
shaking from the feeling.

"You cold or somethin'?"

I told Jerry that I wasn't.

We hurried from the building. The warmer outside air made us feel better. 
We walked further away from the motel, toward the park with the little 
lake. It was quite dark. The park had a row of lamp posts lighting one of 
the paths. We headed down it.

We made a turn, and came up short.  There was a young guy pinning an older 
man to the ground. Another guy was standing by. The old guy was hollering 
something. 

"Hey what are you doing there." Jerry shouted.

The older guy that was just standing there yelled, "Beat it kid, we're just 
busting a fucking queer." The guy flashed a badge at us.

We turned, and walked back to the motel. Jackie was in bed but not asleep. 
We told him about what happened in the park.

We went to bed. Jerry was cuddled around me; one of my favorite positions. 
Safe and secure in his arms. Within moments he was fast asleep, but not so 
for me. My sleep was fitful. I could not get the image of Sister Aimee 
floating down that ramp out of my mind. Some how Sister Aimee and the Queer 
from the park linked together, and I woke in a sweat. Jerry's cock was 
stiff and between my legs. His presence was reassuring. Yet when sleep 
returned my mind insisted on revisiting Angelus Temple.

Saturday morning we slept til almost noon. Check out was no later than 
twelve, so we hurriedly dressed, got our things together, and left. Our 
plan for the day was mostly to sight see. The school wouldn't be open til 
Monday. But the school was on the list of places we wanted to look at.

Friday night we had noticed a pancake house across from Hollywood High 
School, and had even then decided that was where we were going to have 
breakfast. 

Even though it was early afternoon the place was busy, and we had to wait 
in line for almost twenty minutes.

We were seated in a booth with a view of Sunset Boulevard. Across the aisle 
from us there were two guys seated. The older man caught my attention. He 
was very distinguished looking. He had dark hair, and a mustache. He was 
dressed in a light tan suit. Across from him, and facing me was the young 
hustler we had seen the previous evening. 

His eyes met mine. There was no recognition. I whispered to Jerry. He 
turned and looked. This time the kid gave us a big smile and a wink. We 
both blushed. The kid said something to his companion. The man laid a 
twenty dollar bill on the table which the kid stuffed into his pocket.

The boy then got up, walked past us with a smile on his lips. He stopped at 
our table, turned to look through the window. His cock was hard, and was 
practically resting on our table. I was tempted to move my fingers just an 
inch or two and touch that thing.

He looked down into my eyes, gave me another wink, and proceeded out of the 
restaurant. He crossed Sunset and stood in the same spot we had seen him 
the previous night, thumb extended.

Jackie left the table for a minute to use the pay phone. When he returned 
he said he'd been able to reach his friend Don MacMillan at his home. We 
were to meet him at the school in half an hour.

We drove east on Sunset, and turned south on Vermont. At third street we 
made a left, driving east to Westmoreland. We turned left again and parked 
in front of a red brick, ivy covered building. The sign said 
"Westmont College", below that it also said "Cutler Academy".

The front door was ajar. We entered. A portly man in his late forties came 
out of a doorway on the right. "Hey Jackie! It is good to see you." The man 
rushed forward, throwing his arms around Jackie. "Its been too long." He 
backed away, then again took him into his arms. "You look really great."

Again he backed away and said, "Come on into my office."

The room was large for an office; about twenty feet on each side. It was 
heavily carpeted. There was a baby grand piano against the left wall.

The man seated himself behind the desk, and motioned for us to take the 
three chairs in front of and at the side of his desk. His gaze moved from 
Jackie to me, and then to Jerry. "So these are the two boys we've been 
hearing on the radio."

Jerry and I looked quizzically at each other.

"I broadcast a Bible study on a local station." The man pointed toward a 
microphone sitting on the side of his desk. "Our station carries the Revival 
Hour." He paused, then looked at Jackie, "By the way there is an
urgent telephone call for you from Little Rock." He handed Jackie a slip of 
paper.

Then he continued, "You've cut it pretty close. You know school starts 
Monday. We've got to get the boys tested, and assigned. Also, on Monday 
they need to meet their house parents, get bed assignments, and prepare for 
classes." He again turned to Jackie, "Where are you staying."

Jackie explained that he was going to enroll and UCLA, and would try and 
find a small apartment near there.

MacMillan suggested that he use the telephone in the next office to call 
Ray.

After Jackie had closed the door behind him, MacMillan told us that our 
album had been broadcast on their station last Sunday. He had heard it and 
thought that it was "the best".

Jackie returned. "Ray wants me to find a manufacturer as quickly as I can. 
The Song-Fest transcription was released last weekend. They have orders for 
more than a thousand."

Don MacMillan looked questionaly at Jackie. "What do you need."

Jackie explained the problem.  MacMillan knew a fellow who ran a school for 
Broadcasters; The Don Martin School of Radio Arts & Sciences. The guy's name 
was Howard Townsend. He knew everybody, and if anyone was likely to know 
where we could make the best deal for getting the records pressed, it would 
be him. Don picked up the phone, dialed a number. "Is Howard available, this 
is Don MacMillan."  Again, a pause. 

Townsend agreed to meet with Jackie later that afternoon. "Be there at 
four."

MacMillan jotted an address on a sheet of paper and handed it to Jackie. 
"The school is located just below Hollywood Boulevard, and a block east of 
Highland."

He looked over the top of his spectacles at the two of us, but directed his 
next remark to Jackie, "Be careful down there, that's a pretty strange 
area."

He didn't need to explain. We had already been exposed to it.

The image of the kid with his hard dick resting on our table would 
not leave me alone.

We drove away from the school, and into Hollywood. We were again on Sunset 
Boulevard, at Highland we turned right. I couldn't stop myself from looking 
to where the little hustler had been standing. I felt a combination of 
disappointment and relief to note that he was not there. 

Jackie found a parking spot directly in front of the school. We waited in 
the car while he disappeared through the front door. At least a half hour 
went by. We decide to explore Hollywood on foot, and left a note on the 
dash that we would be back soon. 

It was only two blocks to the Chinese Theater. There were no tourists, we 
had the place to ourselves. We strolled along the slabs, pointing out 
famous names like Clark Gable, John Wayne, and Betty Grable.

Jackie was sitting in the car when we returned. "See anything worthwhile?"

We told him about the hand prints in the cement.

Howard Townsend had been a great help. Capitol Records was the only place 
that really knew how to press the new LP format records. He gave him the 
name of someone to contact the first thing Monday morning.

The question of where we were going to spend the night was discussed. I 
didn't want to return to the motel on Sunset. There were some hotels in 
Hollywood, but they were too expensive.

We drove around a while. Jerry spotted a two story wooden building on Santa 
Monica Boulevard west of La Cienega. It didn't look expensive. 

Jackie returned from the motel office with a room key in his hand. We were 
on the second floor. It was close to six o'clock. There didn't seem to be 
anyone around. 

There had been an Italian Restaurant on a side street close to the Don 
Martin School. We drove back there. A sign told us the place was called 
Michels. It had a strong smell of Lasagna and freshly baked bread.

A woman of indeterminate age seated us at a table covered with a red 
checkered cloth. There were globes of glass containing lit candles.

Above us, were empty wine bottles suspended from the ceiling. We looked 
over the menu. Jerry ordered pizza, Jackie and I had the Lasagna. Freshly 
baked bread was put on the table while we waited for our dinner. Jackie 
ordered a glass of red wine which we craftily shared. The taste was almost 
velvety, and went very well with the hot bread.

The waitress looked surprised at the empty wine glass when she brought the 
lasagna and pizza. "Another glass?" 

Jackie shook his head no.

We returned to the motel. My mood was still strange. I had a feeling deep 
inside of me that would not be still. 

Jerry and Jackie were in bed.

"I'm going for a walk."

Jerry looked surprised. Jackie said, "Be careful. This isn't Arkansas."

I stood on the second story balcony, looking out at Santa Monica Boulevard. 
There was a low stone wall along the far side of the hotel. Someone was 
sitting on the wall, facing the street, legs dangling. I moved toward the 
figure. As I drew closer I recognized him. It was the hustler from Sunset 
Boulevard. He heard me approach and turned. This time he recognized me. 
"Hey, how ya doin'."

I didn't know what to say, and just stood there. "Cat got yer tongue?"

I could feel my face turn red. Finally, I said, "What are you doing here?"

He didn't answer the question. "I'm Danny. What's yours."

"Johnny."

"Hey, I know you, you're the one from the Pan Cake House this morning." I 
felt awkward. Then he continued. "Come on, sit up here with me."

Still I hesitated. He stuck his hand inside of his tight jeans, and adjusted 
a very rigid, and very visible cock. "Come on, I promise I won't bite."
Then he added, "At least not at first."

He put out his hand, pulling me up along side of him on to the wall. "My 
date didn't show up."

I looked at him questioningly, "Yeah, you saw him this mornin'. The dude in 
the tan suit. Good guy. We go out about three times a week. Good money, and 
all he want's to do is suck my cock."

I could feel the blood rushing back to my face. "If he doesn't show up why 
don't you and I do somethin'."

My body was responding to his closeness. My cock was rock hard, and I knew 
it was just as visible as was his. He reached over and took my hand placing 
it on his throbbing member. I knew I should return to the room, but I could 
not. I squeezed the hot tube, and it responded in a jerking motion. Danny 
reached over and grasped mine. "Hey, I'd like to put that thing in my 
mouth."

In response I squeezed his even tighter. Again, it throbbed. It was as 
though it had a life of its own. "Do you make a lot of money?"

He shook his head, "No. But some of my sugar daddies live in big houses 
up there." He pointed up toward the hills behind Hollywood.

He looked at me closer, and said "I'd love to suck you dry. ... No charge."

We were still groping each other. I wanted to go with him. I wanted to see 
that covered thing uncovered. 

"Let's go up to my room. Stu ain't gonna show."

"You staying here?"

"Yeah, 108."

Just then a long, low, red sports car pulled up front. Danny jumped off the 
wall. "Business before pleasure." He opened the passenger door, disappearing 
into the darkness. The car sped down Santa Monica, and out of sight, the 
deep throaty vocal of its foreign muffler continued to proclaim its 
existence.

Something strange was happening to me. I loved to sleep in Jerry's arms, 
yet visions of Sister Aimee floating down the ramp, intermingled with the 
beating the cops gave to that old man in Echo Park, and now the strong 
desire I felt to see the little hustler naked in my bed, kept picking at 
me.

Back in our room I stripped naked. My cock was hard and rigid as I slipped 
into bed next to Jerry. Unconsciously he turned toward me wrapping me in 
his arms. His hand automatically moved down grasping my hot tool. He bit 
the back of my shoulder, and moaned something about loving to touch me. 
Nevertheless he continued to sleep. I lay there awake. Wondering about room 
108, fantasizing about the hot raw sex that could have been going on there.

At six o'clock I got out of bed, and dressed, and slipped out of the room. 
I walked down stairs and knocked on 108. There was no answer. The boy had 
not returned from his date.

I walked out to the wall, and hoisted myself up on to it, legs dangling as 
had Danny's. An approaching car slowed down, and then stopped. 
"Hey Kid, need a ride."

I shook my head, "No." and practically ran to the safety of our room.