Date: Fri, 11 Apr 2008 15:32:56 +0000 From: Steve Thomas <stevethomas535@hotmail.com> Subject: Outing for Brian, Ch. 7 This is a work of pure fiction, but based on the author's feelings, beliefs, and in some cases, experience. Come to think of it -- it might not be all that pure! There may be graphic sexual encounters at times between men, so if this offends you, you are invited to retreat. If you are too young or it is otherwise illegal for you to be reading this kind if story, shame on you for reading it - - please stop here. If not, - - ENJOY! Cast of characters: Brian Weber - That's me! Deena - my wife Ronny - my son. Chris Willows - kid in bathroom. Mike Riggs - new friend. Chanelle LeBelle - Ronny's girlfriend. Gary Foosdorf - Mike's friend Dmitri - Neighbor Ericka - Dmitri's wife Muhammad Zarindast - Friend Stan - Muhammad's Afghanhound. Kohfi - 30 year old Persian Freedom Contender Mick - 26 year old American Freedom Contender Ammad - 45 year old Iraqi Freedom Contender From Chapter 6: "Oh -- by the way," said Ronny, "I hate to eat and run, but I made plans to stay at Kevin's tonight. We're double dating to the ice arena -- to make fools of ourselves in front or our dates. Then I'm staying at his house. His parents are gone, and he has some videos he wants to show me." "Porn?" Asked Gary, grinning. "I dunno - maybe. I've never seen any. He's kinda religious though, so -- I'll have to wait and see. I'm sorry to leave you on our last night together, Gary. Oh! We'll be having dessert with the girls too, so you guys will have to have dessert without me!" My son, the little rat, then gave us a knowing grin! Chapter 7 ""Ron!" Called Gary, after my excellent boy. He turned. "You take good care of your dad for me!" I won't see you before you leave, after tonight!" I looked between Ron and Gary. Ron's evil grin disappeared as he saw the tears in Gary's eyes. He almost ran to Gary, who buried his face in my sensitive son's neck. Gary kissed Ronny's neck, and Ronny brought his face to his and kissed Gary's lips. "I'll do my best, Gary. I love you!" Ronny turned and walked quickly to the door, waved to me and left quickly. He poked his head back in the house. "Okay if I take the Avalanche tonight?" "Sure the keys are - " I started. He pulled the keys from his pocket, grinning. "I love you too, Poppy!" "I can't imagine what it must be like to have a son -- like Ronny." Said Gary. "Oh, I think you can!" I said, seriously. Gary picked up his dishes and came over and collected mine. I grabbed the serving dishes and ware, and together we hand washed them all. Nothing was wrong with the dishwasher, but Gary ran water into the sink and it seemed right to do them by hand. Neither of us wanted to start what came next, and yet both of us wanted it more than anything in the world. "Are you - - ready for some of that dessert, Ronny was talking about?" Gary finally said. "You can have it any way you want tonight, Gary. Ala mode, if you like!" I said, not really meaning anything in particular, but both of us knowing that that meant "go for the gold ring". "I'm thinking ala mode needs to wait until you get back." He said. Whether he was afraid that the ultimate act would make him crave something too much -- before he could be sure that I came back in one piece -- or if he was still being gentle in breaking me in to gay sex, I don't know. We played off and on all night -- waking several times to make sweet love to each other -- in the same ways that we had done before. Of course we both wanted to become one so badly, but it was as if -- the very act would actually make us one and would change the dynamic too much on the eve of my adventure which -- almost like as not, I may not come back from. I didn't discuss the details with Gary and he didn't ask, but we both understood that I would be in Iran under false pretenses, part of which was that I would wear Muslim garb and pretend I was a middle easterner. He knew that tomorrow, both Ronny and I would get our hair dyed black and our skin dyed dark, swarthy brown. What no one really knew -- except those in our group -- at the last minute -- was that Ronny, 26 year-old Mick and 30 year-old Kohfi were to masquerade as -- fully covered -- Muslim women! Muhammad -- which we were directed to call him from thence, 45 year-old Ammad, and I were to be their husbands. Ammad and Kohfi were partners and would pose as husband and wife. Ronny would pose as Mo's wife. Mo told me that he wanted the boy closest to him to protect him personally. So that left Mick to pose and my wife. Mick had extensive training in the Army Special Forces. I wasn't told such, but I am sure Mo expected him to protect me. Mick, like Ronny, was straight. Ammad and Kohfi were the two that seemed most excited to go -- and looked forward with relish to this mission. Like Muhammad, they came out of the environment, and hated the system and the culture with a passion. Muhammad warned them time and time again to stay cool and follow the plan. That made me nervous. To me they seemed like a couple of half-cocked grenades. Our good byes were bittersweet. Gary's eyes begged me to stay, but he said nothing of the kind. Ronny brought Kevin by in the morning -- for what reason I am not sure, but, in the presence of Ronny and his newest friend, Kevin, Gary held it together, but when Ronny left to take Kevin home, Gary lost it. He didn't beg me at all, but he wept like a scolded 5-year-old, and clung to me closely as we said our last good bye. "What did you tell Kevin?" I asked my mysterious son, when he returned. "Nothing." He answered. He asked me where I was going to college this semester. I told him that I was putting that off for at least a semester to do some traveling with my dad. He accepted that easily. He asked me if I minded if he asked out Chanelle, knowing she was my ex. Of course I encouraged it." "Did Kevin show you his porn?" I asked. "It wasn't porn. It was a video taken at a project that he was involved in to build houses for homeless Mexicans -- in Baja. Dad -- I guess it's a good thing -- what he's doing -- but why not build houses for homeless Americans -- right here?" "Well, it' may be that when it comes down to it, too many homeless here choose it -- for a variety of reasons. Maybe they can't find enough homeless here that even want -- that. I dunno. Oh, by the way, whatever happened to Kylee?" I asked. "I haven't seen her since the Freedom Contenders started meeting." "So -- you've not been seeing anyone?" "Only Kevin. And of course as you know - - he's a guy!" "I noticed. That makes it easier, doesn't it?" "Not having anyone? Yeah, I guess. I didn't do it on purpose -- unless I did it subconsciously. I kind of envy you having someone waiting, actually. "I told him not to wait." I said. "You WHAT??!!" "I had to. I didn't make this decision lightly. Whether he waits or not is his decision. I think I hope he waits. But if he doesn't -- I won't blame him." "Oh Dad!" My compassionate son empathized. He could see the sadness on my face. I willed myself not to cry -- for what purpose I'm not sure. I guess I have to appear strong for my boy. "It did no good. He still said he'd wait." I said. "Good. Did you two have a sweet good bye?" "Sigh! Yes. Nothing to write home about, but he definitely made me know that he cares for me." "And - - you?" "Oh I'm sure he got that I feel the same." I said. Then, changing the subject, "Well, tomorrow we get our countenances altered." "Yeah. I wonder -- how real it's going to look with a teenager accompanying a bunch of older men?" "Oh -- well -- Mick doesn't look that much older. But after tomorrow, you'll both have dark hair and skin -- as well as me." "Do even young men have to wear those black robes and headdresses?" "Maybe under the clothing you won't be seen as a young man." I said. Famous last words - - - "We WHAT??!!!" Said three nearly distraught young men. "You will be completely covered. No one will know that you are not women." "But -- if we're completely covered, then -- why do we need to have our skin and hair dyed?" "You would be surprised what a seasoned Persian can see beneath the robes." Said Mo -- oops -- I mean Muhammad. "Don't we need to practice walking like a woman?" "Muslim men do not like their women to call attention to themselves. Just remember to take smaller steps." "And what of the fact that none of us have boobs?" Asked Kohfi. "Often men there have very young wives. Sometimes they are not completely through adolescence." "You mean they abuse young girls!" Said my disgusted son. "I am afraid that is the case, seeing it from your culture. You must remember -- even the mother of Jesus was probably only 12 or 13 years old when she conceived." "Wow. So she was only in her thirties when her son was killed?" "No -- probably 40's. Jesus was not allowed -- by Jewish law -- to preach until he was 30. He was 33 when he was murdered by the Jews." Said Muhammad bitterly. "You should be a Christian!" Said Mick. "But I thought that the Romans killed him." Said my son. Mick explained: "The Romans allowed the Jews to govern themselves -- sort of. Herod was a Jew, technically. He sent Jesus to Pilot to be judged -- for sedition -- hoping that the Roman Caliphate would condemn him to death. Pilot found him innocent and sent him back to Herod. Since the Jews were not allowed to practice capital punishment, Herod -- who had a contingent of Romans to help him rule -- gave them the order to crucify Jesus after the Elders of the Jews paid people to beg for Barabbas instead of Jesus. Barabbas was a thief. "So technically the Romans killed Jesus, but it was at the order of a Jew, as demanded by the Jewish leaders in Jerusalem." "I don't get it." Said my confused son. "If that's the case, why are the Muslims more outraged than the Christians -- about what happened." This seemed to be a bone of contention between Muhammad and Mick. Mick gave a superior look. "Because Christians believe what Christ taught -- to be forgiving." Said Mick. "He is right." Conceded Muhammad. "It is hard to break old habits. I suppose Jesus would even teach that we should forgive the murderers in Tehran now -- that are taking the lives of anyone who opposes them, and those who they consider an abomination." "You mean us?" asked Ronny. "Americans?" Said Muhammad. "And Gays!" Said Ammad. By the time they were finished with us, we looked blacker than most Mexicans Indians -- with hair to match. And being Caucasians, we looked almost -- Arab! "Will we have to wear makup?" Asked Mick, by now seeming more accepting. He had a smirk on his face. I saw a slight distasteful look pass over my macho son's face. "I will leave that up to you." Said Muhammad. "But you will probably want to at least smell like a woman. Persian women -- as wealthy as you are portraying -- would smell -- expensive." Ronny wrinkled his nose. I have secured airline seats scattered around the aircraft. If we sit together, it will attract too much attention. It will attract attention anyway -- dressed in traditional Muslim attire. You may have to ignore some slurs." "You mean we have to start pretending to be women already?" "No -- your passports say that you are men. You will not be putting on the female attire until we are away from the airport in Tehran. We shall be picked up in a white limousine. We will thereafter be seen only in a black limo -- as three couples -- at least at first." I felt very conspicuous as I went into the airport in Sacramento -- then again in New York where we changed planes for Tehran. I could see such a stark difference in my looks -- and my boy's -- but apparently it wasn't so noticeable to those who didn't know us. We got lots of hateful looks -- which I could not blame them for. Ronny was across the aisle from me, but we ignored one another. One pleasant looking young woman dressed in like manner as we were stopped and asked where he was from. He shot a quick, panicky look at me, then answered. "I am from Placerville -- California." In his perfect Californian-English. There was a seat open next to him and she looked like she would sit there to chat, but a voice from a few rows back called, "Sarina, come back. Don't bother the man!" It was probably her mother. I wanted to go back and kiss her! I heard them arguing for the rest of the flight to Tehran. If anything saves the world, it will be the youth in those countries, who want the freedoms that they have learned about through the Internet. When we landed in Tehran, as planned, we were picked up by a black Mercedes limo. We were whisked to a palatial home, away from the city, behind high walls with strong gates. We were not introduced to whom I assumed were Muhammad's parents. He was received with a kiss on each cheek by both of them, then there was arguing in Farsi. We were driven around, then herded into a guest house, easily as large as our 3000 square-foot home in Placerville, behind the main home. When we were inside, Muhammad said, "My parents are in great danger hosting us here. We will only be here one night, after which we will all put on our working clothing, and go to stay -- as couples -- in a hotel in Tehran. I will not see them again after we leave tomorrow morning." I thought that he meant that on this trip he would not see them, but he later told me that this was the last courtesy that his parents would show him in Iran. After this he was never to come back. It was only his blood that saved him. Muhammad's parents were not financing this endeavor, but Muhammad himself. His father, years ago had sent him to America, with all of the inheritance he was to get -- which was considerable. By "working clothing" he meant the rich silks and Rayon that most of the population could not afford. Muhammad was dressed in all white, and Ammad and I both in Black. Our "wives" were dressed in pastel colored robes and headdresses. We all looked very obviously rich. And even though Ronny was always said to be the spitting image of his dad, I was reminded very much of his mother in such clothing. We were again loaded into the black limo, and dropped off at a lavish hotel on the outskirts of Tehran. We checked in using assumed names -- even Muhammad. He could not put his family at risk by using his family name. We went out to dinner after the "women" changed into more formal attire. Ronny was very uncomfortable, but put on a good show while others were about. Mick was a little more at ease in the role and Kohfi took to it like he was made for the role. Ronny told Muhammad that he would rather be with me, so Mick played Muhammad's wife, and they treated each other cordially. It was easy for me to be affectionate with my son, even though we were cautioned that too much show of affection was frowned on in public. Ammad and Kohfi, being partners anyway, were the most comfortable with each other. It was two days before we were to start putting our plan into action. In the mean time, we played, ate, slept and lived as only the very rich even know about. The chauffer of our white limo -- built on a truck chassis from Europe - never showed his face to us, I assumed because that gave him plausible deniability. On our third day there, we boarded the limo for what we thought was another routine foray to another part of the city or country side. After the door was closed by the chauffer, Muhammad said, "In a few minutes, we will be stopping in front of a small restaurant. Ammad, you approach a young man there and tell him that your son wishes to meet him. We will open the door, and Mick, you will be sitting so that the young man may see you." This is why Mick was given black to wear this morning. He will look like another young man. "Mick, you are to look at the young man that Assad will approach demurely -- shyly -- and smile." "Shall I lick my lips?" "No -- nothing of flirting should happen. Just look and then look down, smiling slightly." We stopped in front of the restaurant and there was a boy -- maybe 16 -- sitting in front of the restaurant, typing on his laptop computer. The car stopped directly in front of him. Ammad got out and the boy looked like he wanted to run. He was dressed in tight jeans, and a loose silk shirt, open to reveal a tight-fitting ribbed tee or maybe wife beater shirt. The boy started to get up. Ammad spoke to him in Farsi, and he nervously looked toward the door of the limo, and Mick opened it slightly, and did as he was told. The boy got up and started to back up, and he turned to run, but was not quick enough to escape Ammad. Ammad got hold of the boy's outer shirt and it ripped off of him. He was indeed wearing a ribbed, pink wife beater. He stumbled slightly when his shirt ripped free, and Ammad was able to grab him. The boy screamed something, and others looked around, mildly interested in what was happening. When they saw the scantily dressed boy, they lost interest. Ammad was much larger and the boy was no match for him. He dragged him, kicking and screaming to the car and pushed him in. We pulled him in and immobilized him until Ammad got in and the limo sped off. I looked back and people were walking around as if nothing happened. With the door closed and the jump seat placed against it, there was no escape. Muhammad sat on the jump seat. The boy started to cry and said something -- pleading, I guessed correctly -- and Muhammad told him to speak English. "Not everyone here speaks our language." Said Muhammad kindly. The boy again pleaded -- in perfect English -- to be released. Muhammad said, "There are many young boys being sold into slavery, Muhammad." "You know my name!" "Yes -- we share it. You're parents care deeply for you. You have resisted their admonitions to leave to Britain or America, so they have taken steps to save you from yourself." "My parents? Where did they go? They told me they would be right back! My parents set me up? I can't believe they would actually do this to me! I don't want to leave. My boyfr -- er -- my -- friend -- and I - " "Your boyfriend's parents also care for him." The boy cringed when Muhammad mentioned his boyfriend. "You will be taken to a safe place and will wait for Robby there." "Rob -- Rob -- Robby?" Who is - " "That will be his new name that he has chosen. You will also have a new name -- assigned to you unless you choose your own." "I do not want to go to America! There is much evil - " the boy protested. Ronny tore off his headdress and said, "You have been lied to! I am from America. It is the most wonderful place on the earth!" "Muhammad," said Mick to the boy, "If you have a boyfriend, why did you look interested when you saw me?" "One could not help looking at you, Sir. You're striking blue eyes would be impossible to ignore." "Were you maybe hoping for some favor from a rich boy -- for a type of favor that only you could offer him?" The boy, Muhammad looked down, immediately cowed and subservient. "Perhaps. What would you like me to do for you, sir?" I wanted to cry. The elder Muhammad explained to us that this was not unusual. Rich men often give in to their son's craving for sex -- with another boy -- as long as their son agreed to marry the bride of the family's choice when the time came. Muhammad explained, "Often, these rich boys are taken to places where their fathers know that their sons' every fantasy will be satisfied -- and then brought back home. Have you done this before, Muhammad?" He asked the boy. "Maybe." "There are places are all over the Muslim world -- nothing more than houses of prostitution -- male prostitution, set up to please the very rich. You have been very lucky, Muhammad. You're parents have saved you from either being kidnapped and sold into this type of slavery -- or worse: that some mullah takes it upon himself to execute the law himself -- and take your head off. Muhammad looked at his young namesake and the younger Muhammad looked petrified. "Do not worry, young Muhammad, we will treat you with respect." Muhammad's velvety soft voice calmed the boy down somewhat. We drove for close to an hour and a half, I'm sure moving at minimum 150 kph (90 mph). We stopped at a gate -- another estate with high walls. As we drove in, the gates closed and the car swept around back, where another boy was waiting. The car door was opened and the young Muhammad was let loose. He ran to his "friend" and they embraced and cried, then broke into a fierce argument. The young Muhammad came back to the car and pounded on it, as we were turning around to leave. "Take me back! I cannot be with him! He agreed to this -- without even a fight! Take me back. I do not want to be here!" "You do not have the luxury to choose, Muhammad," Said the elder Muhammad, rolling down his window, "as long as you are in this country. You are 15 years old and thereby are the property of your father. If you knew the freedom you would experience in America, you would not fight so much. You are fortunate. You're Robby is 18. You and he can live -- as a couple -- and love each other openly in the United States -- or the United Kingdom -- where you will be an emancipated boy. You will stay here, and like Robby, you will be convinced of what I say. In America, even your father does not own you." The boy spat on the ground, and walked toward then past his boyfriend, to the house, where he stopped, looking down and kicking the dirt. Robby walked over to him and said something. Muhammad turned slowly and looked at him. He then broke down in sobs on Robby's chest. We drove to and through the gates. Through the rear window, I saw Robby wave to us, while still embracing his young boyfriend. "That was the easiest save we shall do." Said Muhammad. "That compound is a re-education camp. This boys sentiments are common. Many here see America as the great Satan that their leaders tell them it is. I have staffed the camp with others who have been to America and the United Kingdom. Even though we abduct the men that we will be taking there, no one will be forced to leave the country. I am confident that once most have a taste of what freedom can mean to them, they will go willingly. I have contacts in both countries that are prepared to accept the men into their homes while they find their own way. "If anyone is incorrigible, he will be set free, with enough cash to keep him happy -- and silent. Of course none will be set free until we are finished with this tour of duty. Each of you is a hero in his own right -- to undertake this mission. Now it gets harder." After the long drive back (we didn't travel more than 100 kph on the way back) and a late supper at a fine restaurant in Tehran, we retired to our rooms and to bed. In the dark: "Dad -- what were you thinking about as the boy was being abducted?" "I couldn't help but put myself in the shoes of his parents. And doing that, made me empathize with the boy as well." "I almost laughed out loud when he talked about some who may be incorrigible!" "I'm glad you didn't! But now you understand what it really means." "I'm sorry that I was incorrigible sometimes. I don't know how you could stand me!" Said Ronny. "Haha! It was because I love you so much. But it was a challenge sometimes! You were only acting normal. Luckily I remember myself in those circumstances." My affectionate boy snuggled up close behind me and hugged me. "G'night poppy!" he said and he kissed my neck. We were asleep in minutes. My dream was good at first, but then suddenly took a turn for the worse when I saw a bright light in my face and our covers were thrown back. There were two men in our room, one standing over us. This was no dream! We both slept in our jams -- bottoms only. And we were caught still in the act of cuddling closely. I leapt out of bed, throwing the covers over my by now cowering son. Hoping beyond hope, I stood in outrage: "What is the meaning of this?!" I shouted loud enough to wake all the adjoining rooms. "My wife's sanctity has been violated by you -- you - " "Oh, sir! We have been -- SHHHH! We have been grossly misinformed! We were told -- well, obviously that is a woman with you!" "You incompetent nincompoops! I will have your- " "Sir -- sir! SHHHHH!! We are so sorry! A thousand pardons!" The man talking was in military or maybe police uniform, but the other man with him, looking on dispassionately, was dressed in all black robes and had a dirty rag wrapped around his wild hair and a long beard. He stood cross armed, and watched with a stern, unflinching countenance. One or both of them smelled like poop. I didn't accept the apology well, and the officer bowed several times as he exited the room, uttering his utmost regrets. The other man followed him out, seemingly not moved by the other's abject pleadings. When things settled down -- at least in the hotel, but certainly not in our room, there was a light tap on our door. My heart still racing, I tiptoed to the door and looked out the peep hole. It was Mo! I opened the door and he looked beyond me toward my son. He visibly relaxed, and blew out a long exhale. "I could not breath until I saw that you are both okay. What happened?" "I guess someone was suspicious about me and Ronny. They burst in here -- see? The security lock is broken -- and threw back the covers. We were sleeping -- erm - together. "Of course you were! There is only one bed in the room." "No -- we were cuddling -- like we sometimes do." I said embarrassed beyond measure, but feeling that he must know the whole story. "We will use our outrage due to this incident to move to another place in the morning." Said Mo. "Are you okay until then? Um -- what did they -- wait! Did they not see that Ronny is a young man?" "I think, thanks to his smooth teen skin and body, they thought he was a young woman. They only saw him from the rear. The dirty haired old - " "That was an imam." "I am not so sure he bought it. He continued to watch is suspiciously until the door was closed." "We will have to be more careful. Are you still wanting to help?" "Yes!" Said my full-of-bravado son. "It scared the piss outa me, but it's over! I may not be able to sleep the rest of the night, but I have never felt so excited!" When Mo left, we wedged a chair under the door handle, and again went to sleep -- 2 feet apart from each other on the bed. When we woke up, Ronny was backed into me and my wood was pushing at his lower back. I started to move away. "You awake, Dad?" he whispered. "Yes!" I said, disgusted with myself. Ronny giggled and pointed at it. "Looks like you better pee first!" and he giggled again. By the time we were packed and dressed, Mo was at our door telling us that he had expressed his outrage and that we were leaving immediately. We brought our bags down and the white limo was waiting. As we took off I saw a taxi take off at the same time. I looked back several times and wondered if it was the same taxi, and were we being followed. I thought I must be getting paranoid. About that time, Mo picked up the phone link to the chauffer: "Take some evasive action, Gary. I think we may be being followed." The wide truck/limo swung quick and wide around the next turn and then another in the other direction, and then quickly snaked his way into an alley I would have never attempted. He turned off his lights and we watched through the rear window as the cab went speeding by. Again Mo picked up the phone: "Good driving. Yes, they will be taking care of. Take us out to the compound." Mo turned his attention on us next. "So, last night there was a raid on two of our number, and now we are being followed. Someone is on to us. We will have to take a different approach. I said it would get harder after the boy, but I am surprised at this turn of events. We have another who is tailing the car that tailed us. He will be dealt with, and there is the sticky issue of how someone found us out so soon and so easily. "We will be going back to the compound and I have already started the next phase of the plan. I had hoped that it may be later, but our hand is forced. Is everyone still with me?" All in the car agreed that we have come this far -- and it's not time to give up. It was obvious that we were not to find out about the next tactic we would be employing until we got out to the compound. That gave me time think: Wait a minute! The driver's name is Gary? That's a coincidence! The ride out to the compound is over a very long and sometimes flat highway (if you can call it that). So it was easy to see that we were not detected a second time. We pulled up to the high wooden gate to the compound and it opened automatically. We drove in and it closed us within and the high walls kept curious eyes out. We were driven to the rear as before and we all got out of the huge limo, including the chauffer, and went into the house. I couldn't wait to get out of the headdress covering most of my head and impeding my sight. Mo said, "We will all go to the steam room and then the sauna. We will be living here for the next week, with frequent sauna and steam baths. We have experienced living like the top of Tehran society, now we shall go to the other end. "When we alternate between the sauna and steam rooms, we shall not be bathing in the traditional sense. No deodorants will be used. In a week, we shall all smell like most of the peasants on the street. If you can possibly stand it, don't even wipe your behinds when you use the loo. Brian and Ron here experienced how the common man smells last night. Tell us how that smells, Ronny?" "One of those guys smelled like poop!" Said my disgusted son. "The chances are that they both did." Said Mo. "Only the very rich bother with bathing regularly -- or using deodorant. So -- we now need to smell like the man on the street. For we will need to fit in with them. I didn't want to do this until we absolutely had to. Well -- I guess we absolutely have to -- now. Nothing really will change except we will be living at the most humble places -- homes that have been abandoned. My people have been careful to maintain their rustic charm on the outside which, in translation means -- it will still look like a dump from the street. But the insides will be clean and the beds will have new linens and mattresses on them." "Gary, you may remove your shora." (Shora is the draped head covering that is often worn to cover the head.) "Most of you do not know our chauffer. He too comes from The Sacramento California area. He is well known to our friends, Brian and Ron. I could not believe what I was hearing. Gary removed his egal and shora. The egal is the band or tie that secured the shora to the head.) Standing across the room from me was my Gary -- with a scruffy beard that if anything, made him look more masculine and sexy than before. Ronny beat me to the punch. He ran to Gary, who hugged him and twirled him around, complete with kisses on both cheeks! I was surprised at how I suddenly felt shy. Gary came to me. I smiled demurely, and we embraced closely and affectionately. "Well, obviously, Gary and Brian are more than mere friends!" laughed Mo. "What're you doing her? I thought - " I started. "I'll explain later." He shushed me quickly. "So -- to start, some new room assignments are in order." Said Mo. "There is one house that is larger than the others. It has two rooms that could be called bedrooms. There will be assigned Brian, Ron, Mick and Gary. You may decide among you the room assignments. I will sleep on a couch in the small cottage where Ammad and Kohfi will have the bedroom. The cottage is at the rear of the house. "It may be a stretch -- by our standards -- to call either of these by those terms. The house is more of a shack and the cottage is more like a hovel or shed. Hopefully since we all will smell like putrefied dung, we won't be too disgusting to one another. It's amazing how quickly the nose adjusts!" Mo laughed. "You have done this before?" Asked Mick. "Yes. I was under cover for -- well -- that's another time in my life. More like another life - - that I prefer to forget." Said Mo with a finality no one could intrude on. (Case closed I guess) "But for the next week, we will be here, in relative luxury." "This ain't relative luxury. By almost any standard, this is the definition of luxury." Said Mick. "By next week, when you start to barely get used to your new and interesting scents, your nose may have a different opinion." Mo showed us to our rooms. To call these rooms was a stretch. Each was more like an apartment. They were each air conditioned, and were all clustered around an open-air atrium, which was designed as a gathering place, and where the spa area was, complete with pool, (which was off limits to us!) sauna and steam rooms. The house itself was not completely unlike the adobe and stucco abodes of the southwestern American Indians and Mexicans. Very thick, solid walls -- completely sound and weatherproof. Ronny reluctantly paired off with Mick, leaving me and Gary to our own apartment. Reluctant because he wondered if Mick really was gay. It seemed to Ronny that Mick had shown more interest in Ronny than he was comfortable with. Ronny expressed this to me, to which I replied, "Are you afraid he may convince you to be gay?" "C'mon Dad!" Said my placated son. "You KNOW that's not gonna happen!" "Well, be ready for anything." I said. "You don't think he'd try anything do you?" Asked Ronny. "I think you could give him a good run for his money!" I said. "A good fight for his trying -- is what he'd get!" "Just remember, that we are a team and -- being 26 doesn't mean he is finished with his teen hormones. I really don't think he's gay, but - - if he is, he may do something in his sleep -- or even sleepiness -- that you have t deal with. Just deal with it and let it go -- if it happens. I doubt he will try to force anything, and you can deflect anything less than that with humor or frank discussion. Just don't be mean. To him, if he is gay, sleeping with you would be tantamount to any normal guy sleeping with a sexy model." "I -- guess." Said Ronny. "What are you two whispering about?" Asked Gary. "Family stuff! Ronny says he wants to get to know Mick better -- so I guess that means you and I will have to bunk together!" I said with a straight face. "I think I'd be willing to make that sacrifice!" Said Gary. "There ARE enough rooms that you could have separate spaces -- if you wanted." Said Mo, "You will soon enough be quartered together, much closer than here. The supposed houses are clean inside, but they are only equipped with twin sized beds!" "Aw -- we don't wanna dirty up two rooms for you! We'll stay together!" I said. "As my friend says, we can make that much sacrifice!" "Ronny?" said Mo. "Would you like your own quarters here?" Ronny looked at me, then at Mick. Mick was staring at the floor. Ron said, "I think I want to get to know Mick better -- if that's okay with Mick." "Huh?" Said Mick in seeming oblivion, "Oh! Yeah -- okay -- good idea." He said. "It is now almost noon. After a light supper, you will be on your own until five o'clock, when we shall meet for a planning meeting before the evening meal." "C'mon, Ron!" Said Mick, "There's something that Muhammad wanted me to show you!" "What is it?", asked my suspicious boy. "You'll see!" "Go with him, Ronny," said Mo. "I think you will like it." Mick grabbed Ronny's hand and almost dragged him out the rear door. "I suspect you two have some things to discuss." Said Mo, referring to me and Gary. "Don't worry about Ron. He'll be a happy boy when he comes back." "You have horses out there, Don't you Mo?!" I exclaimed. Mo just smiled and walked out, inviting the other two to follow him. "Shall we check out our room?" said Gary. "Yes -- and -- you can tell me why you're here!" I said. "Okay, but first this." He stepped to me and we mutually grabbed each other and kissed almost desperately. "I've only known you only since the beginning of summer!" Said Gary. "How is this possible?" "I know, Gary, It's a little scary. I haven't really known anyone else like this. The intensity of what I feel is more than I knew was possible." Tears came to my eyes. "I didn't know I felt this way when I left. And now you're here. Now I - - I guess I kind of know - - how you may have felt -- when I left. I thought I was being all selfless and such -- and it turns out -- I was being selfISH." "I -- uh -- think you lost me somewhere." He said. "I guess I'm not making much sense. Think about how you felt when I told you I was coming over here. How did that feel?" "I dunno -- confused, maybe. Certainly out of control. I didn't want you to go, but -- shit, Brian, I've known you such a short time, I had no right to try to stop you. And yet -- I DID try to stop you. How did I feel? Helpless? Powerless? Brian, I didn't know where to turn." "That's what I'm talking about, Gary. Now that I'm the one who is worrying about you -- I see it quite differently. It's true we've known each other such a short time, but -- I feel like we've been on a track to be together -- since the beginning -- well, of my life -- at least. Now that you're here, I don't want to lose you. When it was the other way around -- I didn't consider the loss -- because if I never came back -- I wouldn't have been the loser. So I see -- I was thinking only of myself. I'm sorry about that -- I really am!" I said. Gary smiled and kissed me deeply and passionately. "You asked why I'm here? Well, you just answered your own question. When I left you that last night before you left, I went home and -- I wouldn't have done it, but suicide crossed my mind - " "Ohhh -- Gary! No! You couldn't - " "You're right! I couldn't! But it crossed my mind. I thought about all the guys I have been with -- some taking advantage of me and -- to my shame -- some that I used just to drown my own grief. All the damage I may have done with this Herpes thing -- and then to lose the first guy that really showed me what love could feel like." "But -- wait! What about Raul?" "I thought we agreed not to bring up those names. But since you have -- yes, I loved Raul -- okay -- LOVE him -- but I see now -- now that I have felt what real love feels like -- I loved him so much differently. More like a -- and my other friends would laugh if they heard me say this -- because they all teased me about it -- but now that I know you -- I can identify what I felt toward him -- it was -- more like -- a father! "And Bri -- you and I have so much more to learn about each other! What we feel now -- may be the tip of the iceberg. If this was all there was -- I'd be content, but I -- I just - " Tears came to his eyes. "I want to see where it can go, Bri. Does that make sense?" I sighed. "Perfect sense. So -- you DO understand me! I think you may be the only one -- besides Ronny -- who does! And you know what? It feels really good -- to be understood!" I then kissed him once more. Then I did something uncharacteristic for me. I practically ripped off his robes, and pushed him down onto the bed. "Gary -- we may never get a chance to do this again. After last night -- I can see that these people are more dangerous than I ever knew. This place seems like a time bomb ready to go off any minute. How can people live under such conditions? Anyway -- I want you -- tonight or -- right now! No more waiting!" I started to take off the briefs he wore under his robe. He stopped me. "Now's not the time, Bri." He said, seeming almost sad. "I know it seems like when two lovers may at any time -- be deprived of their lover -- that NOW has to be the only time. But -- I want to assume that -- we WILL make it back to Sacramento -- all three of us -- and that being the case -- I can't risk the chance of infecting you." "Huh?" I said, totally bewildered. "Brian -- I feel the tingling sensation that you -- and the doctor -- told me about. I -- can't -- get my genitals anywhere near you. I don't want to give this shit to you. The doctor told me that sometimes high stress could bring on an outbreak of Herpes. Well, I've been about as stressed out as I've ever been in the last couple weeks." "Omigod, Gary!" I said, and now felt my own eyes welling up. "I'm so -- SOOO sorry! This is my fau - " "No -- it's NOT! It just is what it is. We can wait awhile longer for what we want. Now it was his turn to pull me down to him. He took off my robe and we cuddled and kissed and -- cried a little -- not too much. What we were doing seemed to be enough -- under the circumstances. We fell asleep in each other's arms. We awoke to knocking on the door. "Dad! Gary! It's time for our meeting!" "We'll be right out, Ronny!" Yelled Gary and I together. We rolled around and kissed a few times then popped up and put on shirts and sandals -- and shorts. We laughed when we came out of our apartment into the common area. Everyone had the same idea we did. We wanted to live and act like westerners for as long as we could before we had to start acting like primitives -- again. Notes: We all have our reasons for the way we act -- and react -- to any given situation. Is it skill -- or pure luck -- if we find a soul mate who understands us? Comments are always welcome to Steve at stevethomas535@hotmail.com. Thanks for reading and -- love, Steve