Date: Tue, 26 Feb 2008 16:45:26 -0800 (PST)
From: Morpheus Rose <morpheus.rose@yahoo.com>
Subject: Jack's Back part 1

Jack's Back are a series of stories that follow the adventures of Jack
Holiday. He's a late 20's Iraq vet who has recently returned to Southern
California after being away for five years. The prequel to this story is
"turk and german boy."


Jack and the Dark Compact.


It had been about a week since I fucked Walter Kelly. He never called me
and I didn't run into him again. I hadn't gotten a job, I still had enough
money. So I spent my days walking. Walking circles, loops, laps around
Hillcrest, NorthPark, down to downtown, out to the ocean.  At night I would
go to a bar and sit and drink.  I liked straight bars. At straight bars no
one bothers you. No one comes up to you to talk, no one tries to buy you a
drink and no one tries to hold eye contact. I would sit and drink,
sometimes watch the people, the play between sexy girls and horny dudes and
more often, the silent lullaby the ugly people would sing to themselves.
Ugly, broken and old. So old.  I was getting older too. I would wake up,
sometimes at my apartment, sometimes on the grass somewhere and sometimes
on a bus stop bench.

	Walking and drinking eventually weren't enough. There were only two
phone numbers I still remembered, Sander and Mama (not my mother). That's
not true, I still remembered Tony's number too, it was burned into my brain
but I wouldn't call him. I bought a cell-phone and called up Sander.  He
had heard a rumor that I was in town and wondered when he would hear from
me.  We agreed to meet for lunch. Sushi.

	I had been there about thirty minutes when he walked in, right on
time.  He looked good, the years had been good to him to.  What is that
weird thing about your late twenties when everyone loses weight instead of
gains it?  He was as slender as a thistle and with a suit and his hair
combed and parted he looked very respectable. Handsome. He still had his
anxious eyes and his lop-sided smile.  I stood up when he recognized me and
came towards me.

	"Jack!" he said.  He embraced me, I quickly hugged him back.

	"Sander, it's good to see you." I replied.

	"God you look different." He said.  Then we sat down and got some
ice teas.  He quickly filled me in on his past five years.  Went to law
school, finished law school got a job with a San Diego firm. Didn't pay as
much as San Fran or L.A. would have, but at least he's here. Got a condo
now. A dog.

	"You should see him. He's this little fluffy thing, goes apeshit
whenever some rings the doorbell. But he's a good dog.  No matter where I
am in the house, he's always right there. When I reading or watching TV he
doesn't watch the TV he just sits at my feet and looks at me. I named him
Kaykay."

	"You are so gay." I said.

	His mom died. It was hard, but harder on his little brother who
dropped out of school. Sander had to go up to Alaska to find him once,
convince him to give his future another chance, now he's at UCLA again
finishing his undergrad. In psychology.

	"How about you?" he asked me.

	I told him briefly that I was in Iraq. Went to OCS then got
out. Did some traveling. Not really much to say. He nodded and gave me the
"I have no idea what to say to you about Iraq look so I'm going to nod and
say nothing b/c I respect you."  The sushi still hadn't come. Then.

	"I heard you fucked Walter Kelly." He said it with a sly grin.  I
chuckled. How did he know?

	Apparently, Walter's next door neighbor doesn't have a job because
he was home and he heard Walter shrieking "Fuck my ass hard!" over and over
again. I explained to him that wasn't exactly what happened.

	"Man I bet he wanted it though. Did you fuck that little ass of
his? I would so give it to him, that arrogant prick, bend him over and fuck
him till he cried for his mom." He finished by pulling his arms back in
quick jerky movements and humping the underside of the table.  I had
forgotten how delightfully vulgar Sander could be.

"Although," he continued, "isn't that a little out of character for you?
Didn't you used to be Mr. Closet-bottom?"

	I laughed, Sander used to know me so well. I nodded "Now I'm just
not closeted. How about you. What boys?"

	He suddenly got misty-eyed. He sighed and his shoulders sagged and
looked up at the ceiling.

	"Oh Jack. I found him. This guy. He's amazing. Just a few years
younger than I am, but almost as tall as me and solid. Like a swimmer but
thicker. He's so sweet too. The most considerate guy I'd ever met and these
blue eyes.  They break your heart. And they're mischievous too - I'm
climbing over walls at Balboa Park because of them. He's got a nice cock,
six or seven inches. Not too big, but nice, just beautiful.  But it's his
ass. I could just eat it all day and then pull him to my lap and fuck him
for hours. And..." he paused, for dramatic effect, "I let him fuck
me. Dude, I had no idea how good it felt. That's what I mean about a
perfect dick. It just slides into me and hits my magic button and I'm like
a baby in his arms. I can't believe I'm telling you this, but yeah he's
just amazing."

	Wow. Certain things really do change. It made me feel weird in my
stomach.

	"Sounds great," I said. "When do I get to meet him?" I asked.  The
sushi arrived and he grabbed a big piece and shoved it into his mouth.  He
chewed and then swallowed, bits of sesame on his scruff.

	"I don't know." He sighed, he looked like he was going to
cry. "Jack. We were having dinner the other night. He gets up to go to the
bathroom. You know and he's gone for like five minutes. And then when he
comes out, he has on this, like, samurai outfit. His hair is longer, he's
got a beard and he slowly makes his way through the restaurant like he
doesn't know where he is.  So I call to him - because, like, is he going to
propose with a samurai sword or something, he was always a little bit
weird, but it was cute - and he sees me and he has this blank look on his
face. Like seeing someone dead come back to life.  Then he touches my
shoulder and says: 'You've only been waiting a few minutes.' And I say:
'Yeah,' and he says 'You probably haven't even missed me. Sander. I'm so
sorry. I'm different now, I'm so..' and then his voice breaks like he's
going to cry, which is weird because now he sort of sounds like Keanu
Reeves anyway, and then he says 'I have to go' and then he w

 a!

lks out of the restaurant."

	Sander finally stops at this point, grabs another piece of sushi
and collects his thoughts.  Anyone else would probably think that Sander
was remembering a really fucked-up acid trip.  Not I.  I don't say anything
but I am suddenly very, very interested in this boyfriend of his.

	"So," Sander begins again, wiping his mouth with a napkin, "I
follow him outside and call after him, I have to chase him for three
blocks, finally he turns and says. 'Sander, I have to go collect my
thoughts. There's something I have to do, I don't know what it is.  I've
been in China. For the past three years! Take care.' So I say. Take care'
and he runs off. Then he turns and shouts backwards 'I'll call you. I
promise!'" Sander, wiped his eyes with a napkin.

	"But how can he call me when he left his cell-phone in the
restaurant!" he finished fiercely.

	He noisily blew his nose and then gulped down his ice-tea. I
managed to finally sneak a piece of sushi and we sat for a moment.  This
was not at all what I had expected.  I sipped my tea while I thought of
something to say.

	"Sounds like he fell into some weird sort of worm-hole." I offered

	Sander laughed as if I were making a joke. "Yeah. Who the fuck does
that, Jack?" Jack finally relaxed, he admitted that he didn't know very
much about this guy, Eli (that was his name). Didn't know his parents, if
he had any. Eli was supposedly from San Diego, but how was he to know? He
didn't know what to do. I told him, that there seemed to be nothing to
do. I tried to comfort him when I reminded him that Eli promised to call
him.  Sander smiled at that. Eli always kept his promises.  There was
nothing to do. Except get drunk.

	"Oh Jesus, I have to get back to work. Hey." He said as he stood
up. "That's a good idea. Let's get fucking wasted tonight. We'll go to
Rich's and knock'em back, shot for shot."

	I grinned and agreed. He paid for lunch and then left.  As he was
leaving, I saw them again.  Three dagger-sharp pieces of shrapnel, flying
out of the sun, heading straight towards my face. The closer they got, the
faster they got, and I knew it was only a matter of time before they tore
me apart and left me on the ground, husked.

	But they went right through me, just like always. Right fucking
through me.



	That night at Rich's we were knocking them back shot for shot. I
had to do occasional Sander maintenance, as he would periodically get weepy
for Eli.  All I had to do was to remind him that he was a sexy, hot
superstar, slap his ass and he was off, after the next guy he found
attractive. And since he was wasted, that was practically every guy at the
bar. Nothing like the power of alcohol to make you forget your past loves.

	Nothing like the power of alcohol to make you frisky. Not that I
was going to get frisky with Sander. I had never been attracted to him,
which I think was one of the reasons we had been able to become friends in
the first place.  Tonight the thought must have crossed his mind, because
in a moment of lucidity he commented on our current dynamic.

	"You've changed, Jack. Now I don't want to fuck you anymore."

	"Thanks." I said. He saluted me with his beer can and then his
bleary eyes caught some hot thing walking by and Sander took off after
him. For my part, I was having a good time, for the first time in a
while. It was one of those nights, when you feel anything could happen. I
was feeling horny too, I was wondering how I could get that hot Mexican kid
in the corner to wrap his full lips around my dick.  Maybe if I sucked on
his balls he might become more amenable to the idea.  Then something
clobbered me from behind.  Two arms swung around me and groped my chest.

	"Hey baby!" a voice said. I instinctually elbowed him and then
pulled him over my left hip.  He sprawled out on the floor.  He was solid.
He had thick, wavy black hair, a sultry Italian face and model muscles
popping out of his Armani t-shirt and tight jeans.

	"Do I know you?" I asked, pissed.  He was a little intoxicated and
staggered to his feet, then he came at me again, as if to hug me.

	"Stay back!" I warned him. Man was this guy asking for it.

	"Oh, baby. Don't you remember me? I remember you. You're so hot,
Jacky. How could I ever forget you?" He had some sort of accent, which was
thicker now that he was drunk.

	"Georgio, what are you doing?" Sander suddenly was beside
me. Georgio, Georgio, that name rang a bell. I looked closely at him and
suddenly a name came to mind.

	"Georgio Romani?" I asked, incredulous.

	"Oh look baby, now you know me. Did you miss me?" he asked.

	"How old are you now?" I countered.

	He was 23.  I used to volunteer at the Gay and Lesbian Youth
Center. I would tutor kids with their homework and try to be present and
available for them when they needed it.  He was a foreign-exchange student
from Brazil.  But he was this quiet, skinny kid. Now.

	"Jesus, Georgio, you must be 185 lbs!" I exclaimed.

	"No Baby, 180lb, don't make Georgio fat. I'm a model now." I helped
Georgio into a seat.  By that point a quiet, older gentleman was now
standing behind Georgio, supporting his back. I ordered Georgio a water,
but when I tried to pay for it, the older guy waved my hand away politely
and insisted that he pay for it.  Sander, for his part, was more drunk than
Georgio and couldn't keep his hands off Georgio. He kept groping Georgio's
arms and chest and his crotch.  Georgio didn't seem to notice.  He kept
talking to me.  He was going to be a big director now, just finishing his
degree at UCSD.  The modeling was just what kept his visa good in the US.
In fact he was going to a party tonight in Los Angeles and we should
totally come. At this point Sander interjected.

	"Wait, is it like that Bryan Singer party, where we went and I was
the oldest person there?"

	Apparently, a few years ago, Georgio and Sander had crashed Bryan
Singer's New years party, the one he held just before he went to Australia
for 9 months to shoot Superman.  There was such a line to get in (to check
ID) that they divided it into, over-21 and under-21, and the under-21 line
was four times as long.  They got in, but Sander didn't score and was still
bitter.

	Georgio assured him there was going to be a wide mix of men, but
still super hot.  Sander would fit right in, according to Georgio.
Georgio's hand went to my leg, and he started stroking it. I should come,
he intimated, there gonna be lot's of hot boys there to get with.  Sander
looked at me with open-glee, it sounded like just the place to go and
forget everything.  LA was a hedonistic place, he reminded me.  I glanced
at the older man, the one standing behind Georgio, now rubbing Georgio's
shoulders.  He had graying brown hair.

	"What kind of party is this?" I asked.

	"A celebration of a friend of mine.  He's a king-pin in Hollywood,
24 years in the biz and he's on top, wants to celebrate."

	And somehow I found myself in a car speeding northward to the giant
metropolis of Los Angeles.

	LA is two hours away, so by the time we got there, all of us
emerged more sober. Yet still willing to party!  We got out and there was a
big banner. It read "Party for the End!"  We were on some street up high in
the Hollywood hills and this improbably enormous mansion (done in one of
those Spanish revival styles) was sitting there perched on a ridge.  It was
contoured to the landscape and it had tennis courts, gardens and swimming
pools and it overlooked the brightly lit vastness of Los Angeles.  There
was a ten foot bridge to cross to get to the entrance of the party.  There
was a big, black bouncer there who stopped us until Georgio's friend came
up and waved to him.  The bouncer immediately bowed and let us through.

	Inside there were men everywhere.  Everyone was dressed to the
nines in all the different incarnations of masculine attire.  There were
groups of Abercrombie muscle-youths done up in washed-up, straight boy
clothes.  There were men in their 20's/30's/40's wearing tight T-shirts and
even a few yummy daddies with thick muscles, paternal smiles and silvery
hair. And of course, the twinks.  No other place does the twink the way LA
does.  Sassy, scrawny, improbable hair that is only outdone by attitude and
the flailing arms.  Tan and starving, these boys made you work hard to get
it.  Unless you had the money or the cocaine.  Then those skinny little
flat asses were up in the air, a special treat, just for you.

	Interspersed amongst all the party-goers were go-go dancers dressed
in naughty-devil attire. Georgio and his friend immediately recognized a
couple of the Abercrombie boys and made their way to them.  Sander and I
stuck together long enough to get a drink and then some kid with a
wristband smiled at Sander. Sander got him a drink and they disappeared.

	I was hungry, so I went to the dining rooms. Or one of them,
anyway. Food spread out like you couldn't believe. One room had to have
been just dessert. Cakes, cookies, tarts, truffles, trifles and
pies. Strawberries dipped in chocolate.  I had a few of those.  There was
real food in the other room and I was about to make my way over there when
Georgio took my arm.

	"Hey baby, Mr. Foster is gonna do some magic tricks in the back
yard, you should come. This is Tim." He said to me. Tim was superhot, like
a baseball player but lean.  Tim, shook my hand and spoke with a southern
accent and rubbed his other hand all over Georgio's chest.  Then Tim and
Georgio both rubbed my chest.

	"Sure I'll go, who's Mr. Foster?" I asked.

	Apparently he was the one hosting the party.  We made our way
through the crush of people to the croquet courts.  There a large circle
had formed.  A man was standing in the middle addressing the crowd.  He was
older and rather short, but he commanded everyone's attention with the
sparkling of his eyes.  To his left a few steps back stood a tall man,
dressed all in black. His face was hidden in shadow but I presumed it was
another security guard.

	"Now in a few hours the clock will strike one! And we all know what
will happen then!" He spoke.

	"The end!" a few peopled shouted, a few booed, some cheered.

	"Yes, the end, my contract will be over and there's nothing I can
do about it." He words sounded sober and tinged with regret.  Then he
brightened, "But that's still a few hours away. Now would like to see some
magic? Who shall we call to entertain us?" He asked.  The crowd started
shouting out the names of dead people. At one of them, Mr. Foster guffawed.

	"Helen of Troy, heavens no!"  They eventually decided on Alexander
the Great. Mr. Foster then gestured to the shadowed man to his left and the
man sighed and snapped his fingers.  Suddenly there was an explosion of
light and sound as if someone had just ripped open a star in the middle of
the croquet court.  Just as quickly the light vanished, and the deafening
roar grew silent. As my eyes gradually re-adjusted I became aware that
there was a man in the center of the courtyard now.  Mr. Foster admonished
the shadow man.

	"Now, now bring up the lights on him."  Slowly the light in the
yard increased and I could see who stood before us in the crowd.  He had
brilliant golden hair, strong cheekbones and a square jaw.  His nose was
big and straight and his lips were full and pulled into a frown.  He was a
very, very handsome man.  He was wearing some sort of imitation Greek
costume and he had a very real looking sword in one hand.  It was as if
someone had brought He-Man to life, put him in a tunic and cut his hair. I
had always had the hots for He-Man.

	"Oh my God," whispered someone in the crowd, by me, "I would
totally suck his dick."  Indeed, the package straining against the leather
of his breeches was almost grotesque it was so enormous.

	However my fascination with Alexander, quickly faded when
Mr. Foster thought it would be delightful if they were to summon a Persian
so that they could fight for everyone.  The last thing I wanted to see was
more fighting.  I sauntered off.

	Found myself wandering aimlessly around the labyrinthine hallways
of the lower floors of the house.  It seemed that there were a million
rooms and everyone was doing something in them. At one point I thought I
saw both Sander and Georgio down the way but by the time I had gotten
there, they were gone.

	I finally stepped into a room that looked like a library to sit
down and try to gather my thoughts. I wasn't alone.

	"Hey partner," a masculine, dry voice said, "Red here tells me that
you're looking for a bronco ride."  I looked up and I noticed two men
dressed as cowboys. The one talking had his hat high on his forehead and I
could see silver-brown hair peeking out. He looked kind of like Paul
Newman.  The other one, the younger one, Red, was wearing a read shirt, but
had his hat pulled low over his face, so I could only make out a wide,
square jaw.  He was quiet and possessed of a steely self-confidence.  They
both had broad shoulders and testosterone seemed to ooze from their
pores. Suddenly, unbidden, words seemed to pour from my mouth.

	"I got needs that need looking to," I said, looking at Red, "You
got what it takes?"

	Red grabbed his hat and tipped it towards me politely, "Hell yes."

He got up from where he had been leaning and made his way over to me - I
saw the smolder in his eyes, the desire he had for me.  I stood up too,
strong and proud waiting to fuck with this man.  The other cowboy, Silver,
chuckled softly to himself.  He came up behind me and reached for the
buttons on my shirt.  "Come on, partner, let's get these duds off." As I
was being undressed, Red came to stand in front of me, feet firmly planted,
shoulders width apart, hips thrust forward and a big toothy smile stretched
across his face.  One by one he slowly opened the buttons of his flannel
shirt, until it fell slowly off his massive shoulders.  His body was tan,
muscled and massive, like a herb ritts models.  Like one of those men's
health guys from the magazines my Dad used to order. I used to lock myself
in the bathroom for hours just pouring over the magazines.  Here he was in
front of me, ready to take me.  I was going to take him.  He left his red
bandana tied to his neck, and hi

 s!

 hat on, but I didn't care.  Next was his massive belt buckle, plain but
burnished brass that glistened bright in the light. No Texas on it, thank
god.  As his hands went to it, I noticed his crotch.  Jesus, it bulged near
as big as Alexanders, straining out the front of his worn denim pants.  He
slowly rubbed his hand up and down over his package, squeezing it every now
and then.

	By this point I was ready to lose it. Silver turned me around so I
was facing him, he smiled at me. I felt Red pull down my pants and my white
briefs. I felt his fingers rub around my hole. It felt warm and elastic. He
stroked my full, pale ass cheeks. I felt him line that cock up behind me.

	"Stuff me." I commanded. He pushed in.  My mind went big.



Just push that big fatty dick inside me now. Oh god, I can feel it
stretching my hole. Ow, it hurts, it's so big, it's gonna split me apart,
jesus how did you force it in. oh, give me a sec, give me a sec, it's too
big, I just need to breath, Oh god, oh god, you keep pushing it into me. Oh
god, I can't breathe. Just breathe, oh it's so big, it's like I feel it
everywhere in my body. And your hands they're on my waist. Oh hold me baby,
I can't take this. Hold me baby. God you keep sliding into me. Pushing my
legs back, I can't even resist, just hold my legs back, they're yours
too. Oh god, oh god, it's so tight, it hurts everywhere, but it feels
good. Yeah, when you stroke mypenis it's like the pressure goes away.  Kiss
me, tell me it's okay, oh yeah, kiss me honey. Lick my neck. Ouch you
pinched my nipples. Oh you're twisting them. And, oh shit, are you all the
way in, is that you resting on top of me.  I feel the weight of you, your
stomach on my back. You're so deep inside

 o!

f me it feels like. Oh God. Don't pull out. No rest for a second, let me
feel your body on mine. I love your strong arms, your chest. Oh god, you're
stroking my cock, every so slowly but it's making me come alive down
there. I can feel myself warming up, getting ready. You're pulling out,
only to push in again. Oh yeah, I like that - yeah baby that feels good,
that feels real fucking good. Now push into me again, oh yeah. Oh let my
cock go, just rub my chest, my hot chest, now a little faster. Oh God, oh
God yeah, just a little faster, just a little faster. That's it, sit up,
let me see your muscles work for me.  Fast but steady, oh man, it feels
good, it feels so hot. Yeah, Do it, now baby, take me home, fuck me. Fuck
me harder, push into me, I want to hear the slap. Oh yeah, slap my ass,
squeeze my balls push it harder. Fuck me harder. Harder! I tell you . O
shit, Oh jesus, I'm cumming, Oh jesus I'm cumming, pump me baby, pump you
big man.



I collapsed on Silver. On his belt buckle, more like, it had to be him, cuz
it was a bright silver buckle. It should have been cold, but it was hot. I
stared at the reflection of my eyeball in the buckle. I saw my eye, big
blue eyes and an Iris.  The eyes are the window of the soul.  In that soul
I saw his face. His face... Tony.

	"Tony!" I said and started up.  Silver tried to push me back down
but I resisted. Something felt really, really wrong. What the hell just
happened, where was I? I looked up and saw that Silver and Red were leaning
against the wall, laughing. Except that Silver and Red were Weston Johnson,
Murray Phelps, these two fat guys who used to try seduce me back in
Hillcrest.  They would always tell me how they were looking forward to
raping me. Weston went to grab me. I slapped his arm and punched his face.
Murray, still in his Red bandana laughed out loud, I could feel spittle fly
onto my cheek.

	"Shit, I think I just raped your ass good kid." He said to me.  I
punched him in the face and kneed him in the balls. He didn't crumple. So I
kicked him again. He just laughed and spat broken teeth at me.

	"Doesn't work kid." He laughed, blood pouring out of his
mouth. Weston pushed his nose to the side as he got up from where he had
fallen backwards.

	"Guess what time it is kid?" Weston asked.

	As if on cue, a clock somewhere started chiming out the
hours. One... Two... Three..  I backed away from them, they came towards
me.

	"Be a good sport kid, ain't too far to go now." Murray
said. Six... Seven... Eight...

	"No..." I tripped and fell backwards against the door. I reached up
and grabbed the handle, ripping it off. Nine... Ten...

	"Don't worry about the door. This place is shot to hell anyways!"
Murray screamed with insane laughter. He lunged for me and I dodged. I
kicked backwards at the door, it burst open. Enough for me to run out it.

	I dashed down the hallway, looking for an exit. Outside I could
hear someone screaming.  The sound was so tortured and plaintive it made me
pause. I glanced to my right. Out of a window I caught sight of the croquet
court, just in time to see the bottom fall out of it.  Someone was
suspended above it, lit on fire. It was horrifying and compelling at the
same time. Then someone knocked me over as he made his way past me and I
came back to my senses. I saw the stairs!

	Leaping up them two at a time, I almost tripped over someone
huddled in the corner sobbing. It was Sander.

	"Sander!" I grabbed his arms. "Get up!"  He didn't move, and then
he looked up at me. His face contorted, full of self-loathing and he sobbed
even harder.

	"Oh God!" he wept, "Oh God Jack. I fucked him! I fucked him, Jack!
What am I going to do? He said he was fifteen but he was only thirteen. And
then he told me his little brother..." He tore at his sides. "How could I?"
He shrieked.

	"Sander, Get. Up!" I shouted at him, but he sagged to the floor
again, out of my grasp. Fuck! What the hell was I going to do now?

	"Listen Sander, you've got to get it together, we have to leave
now. We have to go to the car and -" Georgio! Where was Georgio in all
this?  I felt a shadow cover me and instinctively brought up my guard.  It
was the big, black body guard from earlier. He reached past me and with one
arm, lifted Sander to his feet. Then he bent over and picked Sander up in a
fireman's carry.

	"I've got him, you look for your other friend." He said and started
up the stairs.

	"Wait, where are you taking him?" I asked. He didn't stop but he
did reply

	"Home with me."

	Well, I couldn't think about that now. I returned back to the
floor. Smoke was filling the top half of the hall-way and so I hurried
along bent over.  I knew all about smoke-inhalation from my army days.

	"Georgio!" I called out. "Georgio!"

	I was becoming more familiar with the hallway system, which helped
me avoid that room with the evil-Murray and Weston, but all the other rooms
had their doors swinging open and were empty.

	"Soldier!" I heard someone shout from in front of me. It didn't
really register until I tripped and landed right in front of a pair of
leather sandals.  A strong arm grabbed hold of me and helped me to my
feet. And so I stood face to face with Alexander.

	"Stand ready, soldier!" He said to me. He was beautiful and
stern. He looked me in the eyes, unflinching in the smoke.

	"No," I replied, "I have nothing more to do with war."

	"Peace or war it does not matter, you are what you are."

	I felt he might have meant that on more than one level, but I had
other things preoccupying my mind.

	"Please, Alexander, I need help, I can't find my friend and I have
a bad feeling he's down here. Can you help me find him?" I asked.

	Alexander closed his eyes and his face went blank. For an insane
moment I thought he was ignoring me.  Then he opened his eyes again and
spoke to me.

	"Your friend is down the second hallway, third door on the left. I
cannot intervene, but you can re-claim him if he has made no agreement."

	I murmured my thanks and took off down the hallway. Second hallway,
third door on the left. "I'm coming Georgio!" I shouted and burst through
the door. And tripped over a beer keg.

	"Jesus, Fuck!" I swore. A rough hand grabbed me by my hair.

	"Hey look another pledge!" a voice said. I struggled to my feet, I
really banged my knee that time and it hurt badly.

	"Don't touch me!" I snarled, "I'm not a pledge. I came for
Georgio." As I said this, my eyes took in the room.  There were fifty,
pale, sneaky-looking frat boys standing around the room in various states
of undress. Very few were looking at me.  Most of them had their attention
fixed on something in the middle. Oh God.  Georgio was shirtless on his
hands and knees in the middle of a floor and there was a frat brother
sitting on his back, riding him like he was a mule. He kept smacking
Georgio on the face, telling him he was a good pledge.

I ran over and pushed him off.  He jumped and made to claw me but I ducked
back.

"He's not yours!" I shouted.  All the frat boys screamed with laughter,
much like Weston and Murray. Suddenly every pair of eyes turned to me and
they felt very sinister. I became aware of how vulnerable I was.  The one
who I pushed off, stared at me.

"This..." he began, speaking slowly and softly, "entire house," he gestured
all around him with his hands in broad sweeping motions, "is ours.  A
contract has been completed and fulfilled." He smiled at me. All I could
see were the perfect, pearly whites of his teeth.

"Not I! I'm not yours and neither is he!" I said. He laughed at me again,
and then like an indulgent parent to a child, whispered "Don't be so sure."

I refused to panic, even though I felt my stomach drop out of me. I got to
my knees and gently took Georgio's face in my hand. It was feverishly warm
and his eyes were loose and unfocused. His pupils were enormous. He smiled
as I felt his cheeks.

"Georgio," I began, but he whinnied like a horse. I shook him a bit,
"Georgio, it's me, Jack, can you hear me? Do you know me?" He drooled a
bit, "It's me, Jack, Georgio, I'm your teacher, your friend, remember?" A
delicate pause and then his pupils shrank.

"Jack?" he sounded as if he were remembering a day-dream. "Oh yeah,
Jacky. My hot teacher." He smiled again

"Georgio, listen carefully, did you sign anything? Did they give you
anything that you wrote your name on?" Georgio smiled at me. He shrugged
his shoulders and started to look away, like he was uncomfortable but then
he looked at me again.

"No, baby, Georgio isn't a moron. I have an agent."

I sighed with relief. He still looked confused, but I kissed him, right on
the lips. "Come Georgio, let's get out of here, come with me."

"But," he protested, looking at the frat boys around him.

"They're not real, come with me Georgio." I repeated.

"Okay, baby. Baby Jacky." He giggled, but he got up.

The frat boys hissed. They threw their beer cans at us, but they could not
stand in our way. Outside Georgio sagged against the wall, he told me his
legs didn't feel right, but he couldn't really feel them. I got him to lean
against me and like that we staggered down the corridor. The fires had
spread and the hallway was very, very hot. I could barely breathe for all
the smoke. Georgio was babbling to himself, becoming more and more sluggish
with each step. It was hard to walk and support him. I got confused, the
stairs were no longer where they were supposed to be. We weren't going to
make it. In desperation I cried out.

"Alexander! Help me." And there he was, like a golden ghost. He told me to
follow him. In scant moments had had led me to a door. It led to a
different yard and a small path that he said would lead me to the
road. Georgio passed out and I gently set him down for the moment.

I stood there looking at Alexander, he seemed so wise, so mighty. There was
something about him that I yearned to be. A stillness. But...

"Thank you." I said.

He nodded.

"You will forget. You all will, that's how this works." He said.

"I don't want to forget. I want to remember. I don't want to lose another
piece of myself" I said. Alexander smiled then, for the first time.  He put
his hand on my shoulder and looked directly into my eyes.

"Then don't let yourself." He paused and appraised me, "I think you don't
know yourself, when you do, and this night and others will stay with you."
Then he kissed me on the forehead. Like a father. He turned and stepped
back into the fire.

I pulled Georgio into a fireman's carry and started trudging up the path to
the road. I made it down the road about a quarter mile before I couldn't
carry Georgio anymore. I found a patch of overgrown shrub trees by a
ditch. I unbuttoned my shirt and wrapped it around him. This of course just
left me in my tank top but I had no alternative. His breathing was
unlabored and his pulse regular; he was just out cold. I tucked him out of
sight under the bushes and in some tall grass and then stood back up. I had
intended to go and find some help, but I was exhausted, so I climbed back
in the bushes and laid my head next to Georgio. Just for five minutes.