Date: Thu, 30 Jun 2005 22:27:38 EDT
From: RitchChristopher@cs.com
Subject: briarwood-3

All rights reserved. Copyright held by the author. If you are underage or
are offended by gay fiction, containing graphic sex and explicit language,
please exit now.

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                                  "BRIARWOOD"

                          aka "Whence Cometh My Help"

                                     R.S.V.


                                A dramatic saga

                                      by

			       Ritch Christopher

                                  <><><><><>

                                   BOOK ONE

                                 Chapter Three

                                   * * * * *


	         For:
                     "wherever you go, I will go,
                     wherever you live. I will live.
                     Your people shall be my people.
                     and your God, my God.
                     Wherever you die, I will die
                     and there I will be buried"



        That was the charge and the commitment Cliff undertook in accepting
his first parish, St. Genesius, in Briarwood. He had had many other offers
but this little church of 350+ people was about the largest sized flock he
cared to feed. Cliff took the offer with the agreement that the church
would use the standard 1928 mass. The newer one was entirely too modern
and, to him, bordered on sacrilege, leaving out the majestic drama that
Henry the Eighth had set forth when he broke away from the pope in order to
condone his divorces and lifestyle. That's why Cliff was drawn to the
church in the first place...the church that recognized other lifestyles
that were doomed for eternal damnation in the Southern Baptist Church. If a
married couple was better off being divorced, then so be it! If a guy was
born gay. so be it! No one would be punished for trying to live a better
life, if that was the way it was meant to be.

	Cliff hoped that the Anglican Church would turn a forgiving eye on
all the sexual encounters and discretions he had committed in college and
in seminary, because now he would have to assume his role as leader. No
more cavorting, no more catching quickies in the choir loft. He would be
expected to be the holy leader...the shepherd...the one all the members of
the faith would look up to for leadership, comfort, and moral example. It
was just going to be more than difficult for him to change his ways so
drastically. He had been very lucky in hiding his petty misdeeds and
leaving no immoral clues which would lead to him. He realized that he was
not alone. Most of his fellow priest-candidates at seminary felt the same
and were just as guilty of misdeeds as he. Only Cliff was not afraid to
voice them among his peers. This too would have to change if Cliff was to
create an image of spirituality for his congregation. That wouldn't stop
him from looking or fantasizing in his bed at night. In this respect, Cliff
was in the majority of his classmates in that he had been ordained as a gay
priest, even though they didn't attach the adjective. He was sure, if most
people heard him talking this way, they would be shocked and ready to damn
his soul, but they'd never really taken a good look at any man they respect
who is wearing the backward collar.

	Cliff arrived in Briarwood on a Monday, giving his plenty of time
to prepare to celebrate his first mass the following Sunday. He met with
the choirmaster, the organist and the vocal ensemble on Wednesday
evening. Adolph, the choirmaster, was an obese little guy with a great
sibilant lisp. He was the kind of guy you wouldn't want your son to walk
across a parking lot with. The choir consisted of sixteen so-called
singers...four sopranos, four altos, two tenors, four baritones and two
basses. Twelve of the sixteen were borderline seniors citizens with the
usual customary blue hair. Of the remaining four, two, one tenor and one
baritone, were both in their early 20's. The tenor was blonde, baby faced,
blue eyed, and with no indication of a beard. He could easily have passed
for 13 or 14. The baritone was another story. Why he chose to join this
group could baffle even Ripley. This guy could have played leads in
Hollywood, either in movies or TV. His name was Rob Hawley and, at one
time, in high school or college. perhaps, had aspirations of going to New
York to be a Broadway star. He had a big blaring musical-comedy singing
voice which didn't really blend in with the warbles of the other
croakers. Timmy Donahue, the cherubic looking tenor, was Irish through and
through. He was a typical "Danny Boy" tenor whose upper register could
drown out 14 of his fellow 16 choir members (except for Rob, of course). In
spite of the appearance of age difference, they were only six months
apart...both being 24, just four years younger than Cliff. They were also
the first two Cliff wanted in his close circle of supporters.

	When being interviewed for the position, Chris stressed that he was
high on ceremony but low on formality. He didn't want anyone using his last
name. He wanted to be known to everyone as just plain old 'Father Cliff', a
lead he had taken from Father Kent. It earned respect while encouraging
camaraderie and friendship...a hop, skip and a jump away from total trust.

	The rectory was small with six rooms including two bedrooms, a
house quite large enough to house a single rector. The furniture was just
plain old; no matter how many times they called it antique, it was
old...probably donated pieces one step above what was normally given to the
Salvation Army. The church, though, was charming with wealthy parishioners
having contributed a stained glass window each to honor a deceased member
of his family. Each pair of large windows depicting the stations of the
cross was beautifully followed by one of seven more, the seven representing
the sacraments. The altar was subtly illuminated by shadow lighting worthy
of Hollywood, its design the work of the director of the local community
theatre. A huge crucifix hung from two cables stretched from the ceiling,
the cross itself suspended directly above the main altar in a way that
reminded Cliff of the sword of Damocles.

	It was Cliff's desire to get to know as many of his flock as
quickly as possible, so he posted an announcement on the church bulletin
board out front that the church would be open for confessions all afternoon
on Saturday. This was a good way to get to know a lot about one's fold, for
he had learned that in small community parishes, when people came to
confess. not only did they give explicit details, they also seemed eager to
name names, which made it difficult at times to fit the penance with the
sin. A priest often felt the futility of saying. "Go and sin no more",
because one knew damned well if they had enjoyed what they had done wrong,
they were bound to do it again...(If it feels good,...etc.).

	In retrospect, Cliff felt he should have advertised an all-day
confession---the line of sinners was longer than he ever expected. The
confessees surely seemed have a lot to get off their chests. One time,
about 3:30, Cliff had to stop to pee and light a quick cigarette in the
bathroom. During the afternoon, he'd heard all of the seven deadly sins
confessed to except murder, unless he counted one man who had poisoned his
neighbor's pit bull. Let's just say the new priest learned a great deal
about adulterous thoughts in word and very much in deed. And then there was
the woman had stolen another woman's prize recipe and had entered it in the
Woman's Day competition for the best pea soup.

	Cliff had seen both the two choir members, Rob and Timmy, waiting
their turns and couldn't wait to hear about their misdemeanors. But the
next person to enter the booth was a man around thirty years of age, a man
of such physical beauty Cliff almost gasped. The screen which divided them
had wooden slits placed so that Cliff could see him, but he couldn't see
Cliff. The young man had short curly black hair, olive skin, and blue eyes
that would defy Paul Newman's or Steve McQueen's. His voice was resonant,
not denoting any graphic local identity. He was the focus of Cliff's
complete attention as he spoke,

	"Father, give me thy blessing," he began.

	To which Cliff replied, "The Lord be with thy heart and lips that
thou mayest humbly and faithfully confess thy sins."

	"I confess to you, Father, that I have sinned exceedingly in
thought, word, and deed, through my fault, my own fault, my most grievous
fault and especially since my last confession. I accuse myself of the
following sins: Father, I am a victim of my own transgressions. My sins are
so tangled and interwoven, I hardly know where to begin. I've done many
rotten things in my life, but I'm involved in such a sordid situation now,
my only thoughts are of suicide or maybe murder."

	This was the kind of confession Cliff had seen in movies or read
about in a good Andrew Greeley novel but hoped that he would never have to
personally absolve, as the details unfolded.

	"You see, Father, I've always used my looks to their best
advantage. I could sell an air-conditioner to an igloo dweller. I've never
met the woman, young or old, that I couldn't get into bed. I've worked many
jobs where rich dowagers paid me plenty for sexual favors. A few months
ago, I was working as a tennis pro at the country club and this beautiful
but aging socialite hired me to give her a few lessons. At the time, my
Lexus was about to be repossessed and after a few dinner dates and way too
many cocktails, this rich bitch---excuse me, Father---offered to pay off
the balance $22,000 dollars I still owed on the car. I thought I could give
her a few rolls in the hay and work off my debt. The day I paid off the
bank in full, I was invited to her house for a 'special' dinner. She put on
a spread that would rival Prince Ranier in Monaco...Dom Perignon
champagne...broiled European pheasant...caviar from Kiev...the works! The
evening wore on and I started making my play for her. She acted coy, but
took my hand and led me to an upstairs bedroom. Everything was going just
as I expected until she opened the bedroom door. Seated on the round
king-sized bed, clad in silk pajamas, was her 14 year old son. I stood
there stunned as she revealed the terms for my repayment. Her son was gay
and I had been hired to be his sex slave. I naturally refused, but she
became quite adamant about the necessity of my fulfilling my contract and
if I didn't, she would call her brother, who just happens to be a District
Court judge and tell him that I had molested her son. Father, I was
trapped. I couldn't pay back the loan and I risked imprisonment if I
refused to pleasure her heir. The last thing she said as she left me in the
room with him was, 'Kenny does not like to be disappointed...if you fail to
satisfy him, you'll regret it.' The kid asked me to take off my clothes and
for the next three hours he poked, prodded, sucked, licked and fucked every
inch and hole in my body, I hoped beyond all hope that he was satisfied and
I could leave while I still had a few scraps of self-respect left. When I
did leave him and went downstairs, I found the old hag waiting for me. It
was then that she asked when I would move in. It turned out that I was to
be a permanent fixture until my debt was paid. I didn't know what the going
hourly rate was for being a teenager's whore, but I knew it would take a
long, long time before he grew tired of me. I can't go to the authorities,
I have no recourse or plan. I don't know how to get out of my dilemma,
short of suicide, unless I should decide to kill either or both of them
first."

	Cliff wanted to shout, "Good God Almighty!!" but restrained
himself.

	"I know you can't spiel off the usual, 'Go, my son, and sin no
more' I have to go and keep sinning unless I want to spend the next 25
years in prison."

	Cliff thought a long time before answering.

	"It's not customary for a priest to put an absolution on
'hold'. but I'm afraid I have no choice. I want to take your situation
under advisement and see what, if anything, I can do to help you escape
from this entrapment. I only ask that you blot out the suicidal ideation,
and the murder, of course, and let's see what I can come up with. No
problem is too great to be solved. This one can be solved, too. The answer
is just not obvious to us right now. But I think between the two you us, we
can resolve this without resorting to things that would put your soul in
eternal danger."

	"Father, just say you'll pray for me...I need help."

	"I'll pray for you night and day until we get this situation
settled. Do you mind if I ask your name?"

	"It's Troy, Father, Troy Wilkinson."

	"Troy, is there any way you can get away tomorrow night for a
little while?"

	"It's possible. I tell them sometimes I have to go see my father on
Sunday and don't get back until late. It's like my only night off."

	"Does your father live nearby?"

	"No, he's dead or at least that's what I tell everyone. Actually,
he's sick in a nursing home with Alzheimer's. I lie about his death so that
I can find time for myself."

	"Why don't you come to Evening Vespers tomorrow night at 7:00 and
afterwards we'll go over to the rectory and get a quick bite and we can sit
and talk this whole thing out"

	"I'll do all I can to make it. I just don't want to arouse their
suspicions."

	"I'll pray for you, Troy, and try not to worry about it
yourself. Let's us worry together."

	"Thanks, Father."

	Cliff might as well put up a 'closed for repairs' sign on the
confessional booth because mentally he was gone for the rest of the day, as
his thoughts remained focused entirely on Troy's situation.

	After two other moderate 'go through the motions' confessions, the
next to enter was Rob, the baritone.

	"...I accuse myself of the following sins: Father, I am basically a
good person. I was a good student making straight "A"'s in high school. I
was popular, played the lead in my high school production of "Man of La
Mancha", went on to college, got a BA in theater and music, did the normal
things, joined a fraternity, again played leads in theatrical
productions. I had dreams of going to New York and attending the American
Academy of Dramatic Arts and, one day, becoming the next Richard Kiley or
Alfred Drake. Instead I now have a position as a career placement
counselor. In college I met this local girl and we dated steadily and then
just before graduation, she told me she was pregnant. I wasn't ready for
marriage, nor did I love her enough to marry her. I offered to pay for an
abortion, but she wouldn't hear of it. So to save both our families the
embarrassment, I agreed to marry her. It was more like blackmail, I
guess. I resented her so much that I vowed to her that if we went through
with the wedding, I would NEVER sleep with her or have sex with her EVER
again. I kept that promise. I married her and after five months together
her pregnancy didn't begin to 'show'. I became very suspicious only to
learn she was NOT, nor ever had been, pregnant. She had lied only to 'trap'
me as her husband. And so we live together in a state of pretense for the
sake of our families. I swear to you I have not as much as touched her
since she told me about the 'baby'.

	"That's not my biggest problem. It was my third year of college
when, one drunken night at the frat house, I went into the back room and
did some post-adolescent sexual experimenting with a couple of my
fraternity brothers. I was 21 years old and that's when I realized deep
inside that I was gay. My parents are both Lutheran and in their particular
church, being gay is a sin against God and the church. I could never reveal
my true nature to my father. He would have had me evaluated for
therapy. So, to keep up appearances, I continued dating showy frosh girls
to protect my familial devotion and self-respect. But occasionally, when I
could find the time for a brief interlude, I would grab any chance to have
a quick tryst with a guy, if only for fifteen minutes. I'm not effeminate
nor do I think like a woman, but I feel like the 'real me' is trapped
inside and will never have the chance to know the happiness that I seek."

	"Do you still look for men to have these 'brief encounters'?"

	"I wouldn't really call them encounters. The only sex I have is
with strangers in the dark, never knowing their names nor seeing their
faces. Just outside the city limits, there is this adult video store and
about once every two months, when I feel my testicles are about to turn
blue, I sneak out there and get my rocks off through a glory hole. Neither
of her parents or mine believe in divorce. So what do I do, live to be a
ripe old age and hope that I outlive her or just pack a few clothes and run
away and assume a new identity? I accuse myself of hating my wife and often
wishing she were dead."

	'Goddamn! Did all these parishioners have to come on the same day?'
Cliff thought to himself. He still had another dozen confessions to hear
and was already weighted down with problems these people had been
suppressing for years, but suddenly they all wanted their problems and
their sins solved and forgiven in one day. Maybe he should tear out the
confessional booth rebuild it so that the confessee had a couch to lie on
and Cliff could charge them an offering by the hour.

	"Rob, these things which disturb you just didn't happen over
night. You've had them on and off for years, I will absolve you of your
thoughts and deeds, but this is a problem I'm sure we can work out. If
you're free, say next Tuesday night around 7:30, can you drop by the
rectory and we can have a drink and sit and talk like two men. You and I
can both be freer then and somehow, we WILL work out something. Be prepared
to stay a couple of hours, if you can. The world has seen many others
before you with the same story and I'm sure there'll be many more to
come. And many, many of them found a way to freedom and happiness without
resorting to drastic measures.

	Now may the Lord grant thee absolution and remission of all thy
sins, space for amendment of life and the grace and comfort of the world to
come. Go in peace for your sin hath been put away."

	Jesus Christ! This was only Cliff's first day in his new parish and
he was ready for the looney bin. With all he had heard since noon, if he
could charge by the sin, the church could build a new rectory with a
swimming pool. Cliff could already see he had to stock a bar at home. Where
was little Timmy and what did he have to confess? (as if Cliff didn't
already suspect!).

	"...I accuse myself of the following sins: Father, I can no longer
go on leading the life that I have. I am 23 years old, graduated just last
year with a degree in music and I got a job as band and orchestra director
at the high school where my dad is principal. I love my job and I love my
students, but lately, Father, I have become so attracted to them that I
desire them sexually. I often have to leave the bandroom and go into a
booth in the bathroom and masturbate to curtail the urges I feel."

	Cliff HAD to ask the question, "Are these female students or male
students or both?"

	"Male students...boys...guys...men...males with penises. All my
life I knew I liked the male sex but in all my life, I've never had ONE
experience. I've lived at home all my life with my mom and dad. They didn't
disapprove of my dating as long as she was a Christian and had high moral
values. I've never even felt up a girl. Every year when they cast the
Christmas pageant, I'm afraid to volunteer, afraid that they will type-cast
me as the Virgin Mary. That's what I call myself every time I look at
myself in a mirror while shaving or brushing my teeth or combing my hair.

	Father, these urges are growing stronger and stronger. I sometimes
feel I won't be able to control myself and I want to jump a little trumpet
or trombone player and rip his jeans off and bury my head in his crotch. I
know if I ever tried anything, not only I would suffer, but my father would
lose his job as well, plus I'd be tarred and feathered and hanged from the
nearest tree."

	"Are you parents members here at the church?"

	"Heavens, no, father. They're Southern Baptists!"

	At last, a compatriot with whom Cliff could sympathize!

	"Tim, you are too rational to do anything foolish. I know you would
go to any lengths to keep from forcing yourself on some underage
student. You should be concerned if your urges are growing beyond
control. May I ask if you are only attracted to younger people or have you
considered trying to find a partner your age or older?"

	"Father, pardon my being so crass, but sometimes I get so horny I
would try to have sex with the statue of George Washington which sits on
the front lawn at the school."

	"Tim, I'm new to the area as you know, but do you know if there are
any gay bars in Briarwood?"

	"There's a couple, but can you imagine what would happen if I were
caught or even seen in one of them? My students' parents would ride me out
of town on a rail."

	"I want to talk to you about this in length, somewhere else, not
just in confession. I want you to pray about this and continue suppressing
your 'urges'. If it helps. go in the bathroom and masturbate before you go
to school and if you feel like you have a strong impulse that you can't
control, then go into some private place and 'get off' again, at noon, on a
regular basis. I don't want to see you getting into trouble before we find
some solution." Then an idea occurred to Cliff. "Are you free to come by
the rectory, say Tuesday night around 8:00?"

	"I think so."

	"Good, then I'll expect you then. Be prepared to stay a couple of
hours while we talk. And now I grant you absolution and remission of all
thy sins, space for amendment of life and the grace and comfort of the
world to come. Go in peace for your sins have been put away."

	It was six o'clock. He was starving and desperately wanted a drink
but Cliff knew he couldn't imbibe; he had a 7:30 meeting with two young
boys, Jason and Tony, who were to serve as acolytes at tomorrow's
masses. Cliff wanted a dress rehearsal so that everything would flow
without a hitch.

	Around 7:15, the two boys arrived, They could have passed for
brothers...light brown hair...medium build, average height and weight and
both looked too innocently bright-eyed for two seventeen year-old
kids. They arrived together in Jason's car. Cliff was soon to learn that
the parents of both boys had been friends long before either of the two
boys had been born...the same year on the same month, but three days apart,
Tony being the older. As infants, they played together in the same playpen
and had grown up side by side, almost like twins. They had been inseparable
since birth. They were cute and fun and each, singularly, could be the
image of the All-American boy.  They had both served the church as acolytes
for two years and were well educated in their duties. The two reminded
Cliff so much of Roger and himself when they were that age. He also
wondered if the two of them were playing the same 'games' Roger and he had
at their age? (Probably, if they were THAT close).

	The faux mass went without a glitch and Cliff invited them to go
out for a burger, as he still hadn't eaten, but they declined, saying they
had plans to see a 10:00 PM movie at the multiplex.

	For the first time in hours, Cliff was alone in the peaceful
solitude of his sanctuary. One could almost feel the vibrations coming from
the confessees' side of the confessional. A lot of woes had been poured out
in there today, and it would take hours for Cliff to absorb it all and
settle down. He walked down to the first pew and pulled out the kneeling
bench and knelt. He didn't pray. He just looked at the altar and the
hanging life-sized crucifix overhead and tried to capture a feeling of
tranquility and serenity to soothe any doubts and indecisions. This was to
be his new home, good, bad, or indifferent, and he had chosen to accept the
church, its people and their problems. For a person who had lived a life
void of irresponsibility, Cliff had challenged himself more than he could
ever imagine.

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	There were three services on Sunday morning. The first was just a
eucharistic mass...no sermon...no music. Only six or eight parishioners
attended. At the 9:30 service, they celebrated the communion with a
sermon. Those who wanted to go to the lake or play golf usually attended
this one. At 11:00, they pulled out all the stops...mass, sermon, choir,
organ, a full change of colorful vestments, and censors swinging with
jasmine smoke.

	There were over 200 people there for Cliff's 'opening day' to
review, approve or criticize. It was a tough house to play to...until they
got accustomed to the new rector. Jason and Tony did their duties like
clockwork. Cliff had chosen Psalm 121 as the text for his sermon..."I will
lift up mine eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help". He was in
safe territory as far as text was concerned, and the congregation presumed
he was begging them for help. Cliff didn't want to show favoritism on his
first Sunday, so he refused all invitations for Sunday dinner.

	The one invitation that he wanted to accept came from this
attractive blonde lady, in her early 40's, who was seated in a pew with a
very good-looking youth, who appeared to be 14 or 15 years old, who was, in
turn, sitting next to Troy. As Cliff delivered his sermon, his eyes kept
bouncing to each one of them, trying assess the situation, and, in the back
of Cliff's mind, he kept wondering if Troy's problem COULD be solved,
civilly?

	Several times Cliff almost lost his train of thought and speech as
his eyes locked on Troy's. There was something about this young guy that
Cliff couldn't explain. Cliff wanted to just gaze at him and adore him. No
boy or guy in his past had ever affected him this way. Was he attracted to
Troy sexually? Cliff would be stupid to deny it, but if Troy was straight,
locked into a gay situation where he felt trapped, he might refuse Cliff's
help....PLUS, since Troy's 'employer' was Cliff's biggest financial donor,
Cliff had to be extra careful in drawing attention to his interest in Troy
by tangling himself into web of woe.

	After the service, Cliff made his way to the front door to shake
hands and meet all those whom he hadn't absolved the day before. He played
the role of innocence as he took Troy's hand and introduced himself as if
they were meeting for the first time. But the moment Cliff felt Troy's hand
clasped in his, a wave of excitement crossed over his head and made his
spine tingle. Cliff was very attracted to him, but had no way of knowing if
the feeling was mutual. Cliff hoped and prayed more than ever that Troy
would keep their prearranged meeting later that evening.

<><><><><><>

  	Somehow Troy managed and was able to attend the Evening Vespers
without the accompaniment of the other two. He was there...sitting in the
fifth pew. Cliff didn't remember one word of the service as his thoughts
were all focused on the young man. Then Cliff gave the benediction and
everyone left except Troy.

	"Have you eaten dinner?" Cliff asked him.

	"No."

	"Would you like to go out for a bite or would you like to come over
to the rectory and see if we can make a supper out of some of the covered
dishes the ladies of the church bestowed on me this week?"

	"I think it's probably better if we aren't seen in public or in a
restaurant since I'm suppose to be visiting my father."

	"Fair enough. Let me turn out the lights and lock the doors. You
can drive on over and wait for me at my house. I'll only be a minute behind
you."

	Cliff feared he would get a speeding ticket as his drove his car at
the same speed his heart and mind were racing. He parked in the drive and
walked toward the young man waiting for him. Cliff unlocked the front door
and invited his guest in. He led Troy to the kitchen and began to unload
the refrigerator shelves which were crammed with ham, chicken, carrot
salads and the like.

	Cliff didn't feel Troy approach from behind as Cliff bent over to
reach the bottom shelf, but when he arose and turned, he found Troy
standing about six inches from Cliff. His body was blocking Cliff's and his
eyes were transfixed, staring into his new priest's surprised eyes. Cliff
stood there for a moment motionless, not knowing what Troy's next move
would be. Troy took the bowl of potato salad from Cliff's hands and placed
it on the table behind him without moving his stance. Troy put his hands up
to Cliff's cheeks, cupping his face, and quietly said, "I'm sorry, Father."
With the unwarranted apology spoken, Troy leaned forward with his head
tilting just slightly and pressed his lips on Cliff's, whose body went
weak. Cliff had to slowly grab the refrigerator handle to steady himself.

	Every desire and all the lust Cliff had felt for Troy since the
first time he looked into Troy's eyes had just been reciprocated in the
tenderest kiss Cliff had ever felt. Cliff didn't want to draw back, but at
the same time he was afraid to respond to Troy. He didn't want to show how
totally overcome he was with excitement. Cliff would let Troy make the next
move if he so desired. Troy kissed him again and held it for about 15
seconds before he withdrew.

	"Did I shock you?" Troy finally asked quietly.

	"No." Cliff's voice seemed an echo of Troy's soft whisper.

	"Did I offend you?"

	"No."

	"Well, were you surprised?"

	"To say the least, yes."

	"I don't know what compelled me to do that. I hope if you were
offended you will forgive me for being so forward. I don't know if a man
kissing you is against your moral standards...but since yesterday
afternoon, when I left you at the church...kissing you has been uppermost
in my mind. I've never kissed a man before. I never met a man before that I
wanted to kiss, and now as I stand here, totally embarrassed, I have no
idea why I wanted to kiss you."

	"Don't be embarrassed. You see, if you hadn't made the first move,
I probably would have."

	"Then you ARE gay, as I hoped?" Troy asked.

	"Yes, I'm a gay man trapped in a clerical collar."

	"I thought so...well, I guess I hoped so. The only simple
explanation I can offer you right now is...well, you know what I having to
do to pay my debt...Well, for weeks, I've been indulging myself while the
young master gets his jollies playing with my naked body...but after a
while I started to enjoy the pleasure he was giving me...not
everything...just some things. At night when the lights were out and he
wanted me to perform oral sex on him, I began to wonder what it would be
like with someone closer to my own age. I mean, I've had intercourse with
so many girls and women, I've at times even found myself bored with it. But
this kid...this boy...taught me things, made me feel certain things no
woman has ever brought to the surface. I then started doubting myself
because I started enjoying it, that maybe I was really 'bi' or
something...and then yesterday...talking with you...You were the first ray
of hope I've had in my life for a long time...and I wanted to thank you
somehow. Hell, I'll admit it...I wanted to pleasure you...if I thought I
could get away with it. While I'm putting my cards on the table, I'll go
ahead and say I had a nice jerk-off session in the bathroom last night,
thinking about you."

	"How far had you thought to go with me?" Cliff asked cautiously.

	"As far as you would let me...that is, if you were agreeable. Heck,
I took a big chance...if you had been straight and I kissed you...I don't
know what I would have done out of shame and guilt."

	"Troy?"

	"Yes."

	"Would you like to spend the night here with me?"

	"Right now? More than anything in the world!"

	"I can't think of anything in the world I would rather do, either."

	"You may have to teach me a few things...I mean, you're my first
real man."

	"I'll take that into account. If I go too far or too fast, let me
know when to stop. I've been known to be notorious in the bedroom."

	"You've had a lot of action, have you?"

	"A bit. I've been with a lot of guys with whom I've had a lot of
different kinds of sex...but this may be a challenge to me."

	"Why's that?"

	"It's confession time for me, now...you see, with those other guys,
I've never felt the way that I'm feeling with you now...You're the first
guy in a long, long time I've wanted to make love with...not just engage in
straight sex."

	"Are you trying to tell me that you're feeling what I'm feeling?"

	"If you're feeling what I'm feeling then the answer may well be
'yes'. Why don't we go into the bedroom, take off our clothes, get into bed
and find out just what the two of us are actually feeing?"

	"Can I undress you?" Troy asked.

	"Only if you let me return the gesture."

	"I have four buttons, a belt buckle and a zipper for you to play
with."

	"Lights on or off?"

	"Off...let's do it your way...let's not have sex...let's lie in the
dark and see what happens."

	Only moments later, they were both nude and Cliff was lying on top
of Troy, his lips softly on Troy's, insisting, suggesting...waiting for
Troy to invite Cliff's tongue to meet his. Troy got the idea and opened his
lips and Cliff's tongue slid in to explore the mysteries of the
orifice. The breath which Troy exhaled into Cliff's mouth was both hot and
sweet...with a tinge of spearmint, Cliff was hoping Troy would find his
breath fresh for all he had tasted was the wine from communion. Cliff's
hunger for love had dissipated his hunger for nourishment.

	Their hands were busy gliding over the other's body, exploring
unknown territories.


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(To be continued in "Briarwood" chapter four.)