Date: Tue, 9 Mar 2004 13:52:18 -0500 (EST) From: "Publishing@TomCup.com" <publishing@tomcup.com> Subject: Airport Voyeur by Adam Bricker Part 2 Chapter 1 - A/Y, AF Copyright 2000-2004 by the Paratwa Partnership: A Colorado Corporation. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, except in the case of reviews, without written permission from the Paratwa Partnership, Inc, 354 Plateau Drive, Florissant, CO 80816 This is a fictional story involving alternative sexual relationships. If this type of material offends you, please do not read any further. This material is intended for mature adult audiences. Names, characters, locations and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. ********************************************************************** What's New at TomCup.com? Airport Voyeur Part 2 by Adam Bricker Chapter 4: Added 03/09* Lion of Bolognia by Tom Cup: Queen of Hearts Chapter 1: Added 03/07* My Symon by Rick Lawton Chapter 6: Added 03/03* KOABoy By Tom Cup Chapter 12: Added 02/29 YardWork by Thorn Added 02/26* The Innocents Part 4: Paulo and Beto by Richard Dean: Chapter 18 Added 02/23 My Symon by Rick Lawton Chapter 5: Added 02/13* The Confederados by Richard Dean: Chapter 4 Added 2/08 Lion of Bolognia by Tom Cup: Lion's Heart Chapter 11: Added 01/27* The Innocents Part 4: Paulo and Beto by Richard Dean: Chapter 17 Added 01/16 My Symon (Revised) by Rick Lawton Chapter 4: Added 01/14* Age Before Beauty by Tom Cup Chapter 8: Added 01/10 KOABoy by Tom Cup Chapter 11: Added 01/08 My Symon (Revised) by Rick Lawton Chapter 3: Added 01/05* Lion of Bolognia by Tom Cup: Lion's Heart Chapter 10: Added 01/04* *TomCup.com now offers an Executive Club membership! ** Tom Cup's "Of Our Teenage Years" is scheduled for publication and release in paperback in the Spring of 2004. Check it out at http://www.tomcup.com! coincidental. ********************************************************************** The Paratwa Partnership, Inc. is a publication and marketing agency and is not responsible for the content of the Tom Cup Library, TomCup.com or its affiliate sites, or stories written by Mr. Cup or his associates. ********************************************************************** Airport Voyeur Part 2 By Adam P. Bricker AdamBrick@tomcup.com Chapter 1 -- Golden Retriever I arrived in Denver International Airport after a very unusual week. My life had changed since I had last been at my office, and what was ahead of me looked either daunting or very unusual. The next couple weeks could tell, not only the fate of a few clients, but possibly my entire career. You know, I should be worried, panicked, concerned or upset. I wasn't. I was rather peaceful. Thinking through things on the plane, I'd realized that for the first time; I was comfortable with whom I was and I was willing to deal with the consequences of that. I'd spent years getting to where I was. I'd suppressed many things about myself and passed on many options and activities. I was not going to repress my life, which I had been doing, for a career anymore. I'm me, I'm very capable of this work and I create value for my clients. If how I live my personal life threatens them, if they can't appreciate the value that I bring to their company then I'll go find other clients that will appreciate me and my value. I was confident. I guess I'd always been confident, but had that fear in the back of my mind that if this little piece of me was known they would have less respect for me, that I wouldn't be able to make a living, that I would be unemployable. Well, bull shit, I don't care. I'm me and I'm going to be all me, not just part of me. I don't think I have to flaunt my views but I don't have to deny them either. Thursday night I checked into the hotel, left a call for 6am and curled up in the bed with some reading. I dosed off eventually thinking about Fernando, Paulo and Philippe. What I wouldn't give to have them curled up in bed with me right now. But memories were pretty significant as I finally fell asleep. "Good morning, it's 61 degrees in Denver today and the weather should be sunny. Thank you for staying with us and please enjoy breakfast in the restaurant before you start your day," said the recording as I picked up the telephone at six o'clock. I rolled back and stared at the ceiling and then glanced out the window. Yeah, six o'clock and I had to get going. I threw on a tee-shirt and shorts, grabbed my room key and slipped on my running shoes. Down three floors and out to the parking lot. 61 degrees is cold in that attire. But, I put in three miles before breakfast. I'd been off my routine in the last week and needed to get back to it. No little boys in the shower to distract me and I had to get moving. With the mountains in the distance, the clouds rolling east and a brisk wind, it was a very eye opening run. The beauty of nature was juxtaposed to the edifices of the downtown Denver skyline. I wasn't impressed with the downtown that much and the usual collection of homeless seemed to be up and out already this morning. It's a little outside my normal experience. I guess like many business people I have always felt that if you could get up each morning you could go to work and make enough money to take care of you and your family and it is not my responsibility to give handouts. I give to charities that should take care of those that can't, I don't pass out money myself. But, as I finished my run and was coming back to the hotel I saw this kid sitting on a bench. Could have been waiting for the bus, but I didn't see any bus signs. I also didn't think he looked like he had enough money for a bus. The tennis shoes, and I do mean tennis, were old and dirty. The right shoe had a hole in the large toe. He wasn't wearing socks and the khakis that he was wearing were pretty filthy. One knee had a shredded hole and what used to be a cuff was ragged on both legs. He had a Bronco's tee-shirt that was at least two sizes too large and in 61 degrees he didn't have a coat. I guess my middle-class stereo type was destroyed. This wasn't some wino, this was a twelve-thirteen year old kid. Why wasn't he in school or home in bed just being rousted by his mother to get moving before breakfast so he could catch the bus? He didn't seem to belong here. But, I didn't know what to do about it. I guess my traditional upbringing clicked in, I passed him as I went into the hotel and thought, "I hope he's going to be okay." So much for the Good Samaritan. He wasn't there when I came down to get the car, and I didn't think about it much that day while we worked on legislative issues. The financial impact of OSHA requirements and pro-active planning to make sure that my client came out of this review looking great. It was going to be another day of the same on Saturday, also. I called the office, checked voice mails and fielded what messages I could. We finished at about six-thirty. Never let it be said that my clients don't get a full day of dedicated work from me. But, I was mentally saturated and not going to survive dinner out tonight. I needed time to decompress before we tackled the planning process for the entire company and all locations tomorrow. I begged off dinner and drove back to the hotel. *** *** *** *** *** *** I parked the car in the garage. Opened the rear door of the car and picked up my briefcase and jacket. Locked the car and started across the street to the hotel. There sitting on the bench was the kid. This was the same place I'd seen him more than thirteen hours earlier. The clothes hadn't changed and the weather wasn't set to rise during the night. He was sort of watching the cars go past. He didn't seem too anxious, but he also wasn't acting like he was waiting for someone. I walked over and asked, "Are you waiting for someone?" Nothing like being obvious. "No," he said. "Are you waiting for a bus?" I continued. "No," he replied. I could see this conversation was going to be titillating. Such a conversationalist could keep me spell bound, - not! "Aren't you going home?" I pressed. "No," he said again. He didn't seem to have a very large vocabulary, based on our conversation so far. "You aren't going home, you aren't waiting on a bus, and you're not waiting for someone. I think that's what you told me. What are you doing here?" "What's it to you mister?" he asked. "I just don't think a kid your age should be downtown and outside on a night like this," I said. Never having dealt with kids much, or street people I guess I was rather naive about what was happening here. "Well, it's a free world and I'm sitting here on this bench until the cops tell me to move on. I tried the City Mission but I'm not old enough or something and the hotel won't let me in, so I'm staying here until I gotta move along again. Is that enough for you?" he asked with a bit of attitude. I guess he did have a little more vocabulary than I had given him credit for. "You can't sit out here, its cold. Where's your home?" "Ain't got one mister. But I'm okay, I ken take care of myself." He turned back to the traffic, like he was dismissing me. You can't have thirteen year old kids just living on the street. That's immoral or something, this can't happen, who was going to take care of him. He's not old enough to do that yet. I certainly couldn't have done that at his age. "Certainly, there's somewhere for you. You can't stay out here tonight." "Mister, look, I don't got a home, I can't quality for food stamps, I can't get a bed at the City Mission; I guess I'm pretty much on my own, and I'm going to be fine. So just leave me alone, okay?" He certainly was a gutsy kid, if nothing else. But he had to have a place, there must be somewhere for kids. What happened to Welfare Services or Family Services or something? How could this kid just be on his own on the streets? "Well then you're coming with me," I said and he looked around like a scared rabbit and was just hopping over the back of the bench when I caught his arm. "What do you think you're doing?" I asked. He squirmed in my arms, trying to pull away. "I ain't getting run in. I didn't do anything and you can't keep me." He kept squirming and trying to get away but I held on. Then I dropped my briefcase, used my other hand and pulled him down to the bench. I pulled one arm around his shoulder and held his right hand in my left hand. It was as close as I could do to holding him down. "I'm not the cops; I'm not from welfare or children's services. I'm not here to `run you in.' I'm just in town working with a client in Golden. I'm not trying to hurt you; I just thought you could use a warm bed and a good meal. I didn't mean to scare you, I'm sorry." "You sure? Cause I ain't done nothin' wrong." "I'm sure. Would you mind a warm bed and some food? I won't hurt you. You can leave anytime you want. I think it would do you good." I wasn't sure how to do this. The only kids I'd dealt with recently had been the imp Paulo and his affectionate brother Philippe. They were rich, they had a home, and they weren't afraid of me. His eyes were really looking me over. He hadn't relaxed yet, but he hadn't yanked his hand out of mine and jumped the bench again. There might be a chance. "You mean it? I could sleep inside? - Nah, the hotel wouldn't let me do that. Thanks anyway mister." He sort of dropped his head, like his hopes had soared and now he was dealing with reality. "I mean it. The hotel is not going to stop me. I pay for the room; they can't prevent me from inviting guests in to my room. How `bout joining me for dinner and then you can have the other bed in my room for the night?" I coaxed him. I could feel this was a delicate negotiation at this point. I didn't want to scare him, and I wasn't looking to hurt him. "You're really sure? And the hotel won't throw me out? What about my clothes, they ain't gonna let me in the restaurant, I know they ain't." He seemed pretty convinced that he wasn't going to be allowed in. "Just you let me handle it. We'll order room service so you don't have to worry about what clothes you're wearing into any restaurant. It'll be fine. How about a hamburger and fries, or would you like mashed potatoes? Ice cream or cake for desert, or a milk shake?" I figured if I listed the food, maybe I'd get him hooked. He looked like he hadn't eaten in a while. From the sound of his resources I don't know what he had been eating. "Really? You're just pulling my leg," he said. "Really! Are you interested?" "Yeah, I guess. But I can leave when I want, right? And all you want to do is get me something to eat? You don't want nothin' else?" "Scouts honor. A good meal, a bed to sleep in and you can have a key to the room. I'm not going to turn you in to anyone, or take you anywhere you don't want to go. I'm not going to do anything you don't want to do. I just don't like seeing you here sitting on this bench morning and evening in this weather and not having a place to stay. - Okay?" "Okay, . . . I guess . . . I'll give it a try." He wasn't totally confident but he was going to try. I couldn't ask for more than that. I let go of his hand. We both stood up and turned around toward the hotel. I wasn't sure how confident he was, but I didn't want him to feel that I was going to do anything he didn't want to do. I walked to the door and went in. The kid came, but was holding back. He was nervous about this. As he started to come through the door the bellman came over and started to send him away. I turned around and said, "No he's with me." "But sir, he's just a street kid. We get them in here all the time. Can't have them foreigners in here or they will get used to it and then our customers wouldn't come back. I'll get rid of him." "No, I asked him to come in. He's my guest." "Sir. . . " the bellman started. I guess he'd never seen this situation and didn't know how to handle it. "It will be fine. He's my guest." The kid was just standing there waiting for a sign that he had to leave. I held up my hand and beckoned him to me. He looked back and forth between me and the bellman. The bellman shrugged his shoulders, shook his head and looked at me, the kid slowly walked toward me, waiting for something bad to fall on him. I took his hand. It wasn't too clean, but I wasn't going to worry about that now. I sort of pulled him after me toward the elevators. He stood there waiting for the elevator, watching the bellman. I assume the bellman thought I was some pervert. That was the least of my concerns really. I'd probably never see him again, but this kid needed to be taken care of. *** *** *** *** *** *** "Room service? Yes, two hamburgers well done, please. A milk shake, a coke, French fries and mashed potatoes. Yes, both. A peach cobbler, chocolate ice cream and a piece of Black Forest cake. Room 312. Yes, thirty minutes is fine." I hung up the phone. "Okay, let's talk about something else. I don't even know your name. I'm Adam Bricker, what's your name?" "Marcus. Marcus Tucson" he said. "Okay, Marcus. Would you like to get washed up before the meal arrives? There's the bathroom." "I couldn't. I'd mess it up. I'll wait until I get back to the bus terminal. That's were I get to use the restroom." "Marcus, how about a shower? Just go in there, strip down and enjoy the water. Lock the door and I won't even come in. But you and I both know that it's been a while since you've had a chance to really clean up." "You sure? You wouldn't mind? I'm really pretty dirty." "You're welcome to use the shower, tub or anything in there. I'm serious, you won't bother me." His eyes sort of looked over at the bathroom. Then he looked back. I think he was waiting for me to say "but." I wasn't going to say that. He walked over to the bathroom and then half turned back at me. Again he said, "You're sure?" "Yeah, I'm sure." I walked over to where he was standing. I placed my hand on his shoulder, and leaned past him just a bit and pointed to the tub and shower. "Soap is in the dish, shampoo is on the ledge in that little bottle and towels are up on that shelf. In fact, while you do that I'm going downstairs to the store, I'll be back in a couple minutes. Will you be okay if I leave you here?" "Sure, mister. I won't touch nothin'," he said. "It's not `mister' my name is Adam; and I'm not worried about you touching anything. Are you okay, if I leave you alone for a few minutes?" "Yeah, I'm fine, mist...Adam." "Okay, I'll be back in a few." I left and figured he might feel less on display or self-conscious if I wasn't there just waiting for him to finish his shower. I went down to the gift shop in the lobby. It's amazing what you can find in a gift shop. *** *** *** *** *** *** I was sitting in the chair in the front of the suite when Marcus came out of the bathroom. His mass of thick black hair was wet, but at least now it was clean. He's brushed his hair nicely with a part on the left side. It was a little ragged on the side and hadn't been cut in a while. In fact, quite a bit of him was clean now. I could see how much of his face had been dirty and it looked nice now. His eyes were dark brown and they were rather alert, active and slanted just slightly. He had on the same clothes he'd come in with. Underneath he was clean, but without a change of clothes he had done what he could and just put on the same old dirty, ragged clothes he had. "I did some shopping. Would you mind if I suggested some other clothes for you?" "What do you mean? I ain't got no other clothes. I cleaned up, and I cleaned the sink too, mist. . . Adam." I pulled over the small bag. I pulled out a medium size new blue Bronco's tee-shirt and handed it to him. Then I pulled out a package of three pair of socks, men's small size. I handed these to him, then pulled out a three pack of men's small white briefs, Calvin Klein. "What are these?" he asked. His eyes were so big. He looked at the clothes and then back at me. Then he looked back to the clothes in his hand. Then back at me. "You bought these for me? Really? For me?" "Yes, I bought them for you. They won't fit me, so I hope you like them." "Wow, mister. Oh, Adam, wow. Thanks. That's great, but I can't. They cost too much." "Marcus, let me do this. Consider me an uncle that you've never met. I want to spoil you and give you stuff you don't have. Let me do it. It makes me happy. If I couldn't afford it, I wouldn't do it; but I can afford it, so take it, and be happy. It makes me happy." "Wow, Adam this is great. Nobody's ever done this for me. Thanks." "Okay. Let's complete the wardrobe as much as we can then. I'm not that much bigger but I didn't think you'd fit in all my clothes. They didn't have any pants downstairs but let me have you try a pair of mine." With that I went to the closet and pulled out a hanger with a pair of chinos that I thought might be a little big but they were about the closest I had to Marcus's size. There was a brown braided belt already in the belt loops. "No, that's fine you don't have to do that. These are great. You done plenty. I can't take your pants." "Marcus, hold it. I told you I want to do this. I'm talking about more than just the socks and the underwear. You're going to have a new set of clothes one way or the other, so get used to it." I handed him the hanger and reached down for my running shoes. He stood there with the new clothes in his arms, the hanger in his hand and his mouth scraping the carpet as he looked at the Nikes. Gift shops don't usually carry running shoes, but I could do without them till I could get to a store. Luckily, I have small feet, these were about nine's and I didn't think Marcus was less than an eight; he'd probably grow into them in the next six months anyway. "Here go into the bathroom and finish getting changed. Take all the old stuff off and change in to these new ones. Food will be here in a minute and you don't want to eat in those old clothes do you?" I handed the shoes to him. His mouth was still open, and his eyes were just popping out. He didn't know whether to shit or go blind. He was on overload. Obviously no one had done this for him in a long time. He went to the bathroom and closed the door. I sat down in the chair and just exhaled. That felt good. This wasn't a kid to be scared of. This wasn't a homeless person that would attack me; this was just a kid; who was homeless and scared and no one else to take care of him. Somehow I felt like I understood him. I've never had these circumstances but somehow I understood something about what he was feeling. He came out of the bathroom, looking at himself up and down. He was holding his old clothes, they were folded neatly. He saw the mirror on the closet and stopped. He held his arms out and turned to see the back. He looked pretty impressed with himself. The shirt fit pretty good, but the pants were pulled as tight as possible and still a little loose on him. He walked over to the sofa and sat down. He didn't sit back. He sat on the front edge of the sofa, with his back straight. He wasn't sure if he could relax here, but the grin on his face was priceless. If he had left right then, I would have known that I had done something for him. I reached over and took the old clothes and shoes out of his hands. I had to tug a bit to get him to let go. He looked like I was taking away a family member. I said, "These have seen better days. The new ones are yours. You don't owe me for them, and I'm not taking them back. They're all yours. So these are going to be thrown away." I placed them in the trash can. His eyes zeroed in on the trash can, like he wanted to go and retrieve them. "You didn't have to do this mist... Adam. I've been taken' care of myself for a while and no one's ever done this. Are you rich or somethin'?" "No, Marcus I'm not rich like you're thinking. I'm not rich compared to some people, but compared to what I think you've had, yeah, I guess I'm rich. But I think I'm richer in the stuff that money can't buy. Recently I found people who love me, and that's really made me happy. I don't know what will happen after I leave on Sunday, but I couldn't just leave you down there on the street tonight." Someone knocked on the door. "Room service!" they said. I stood up and opened the door. The waiter brought in the tray and I signed for the food. "Marcus let's sit at the table," I said. He moved to a chair at the table and stood there. I picked up the tray. I started putting plates on the table and taking covers off of them. Marcus was still standing. "Sit down, sit down. You'll look funny eating standing up." "I wasn't sure if I should wait for you to sit," he said with a tuck of his head and a reserved look. I placed the tray and the covers on the coffee table and sat down. "Okay, one for you and one for me. Dig in!" I said. I placed the milk shake in front of him and took the coke. He didn't have to be told twice to eat. He launched into the hamburger with relish, no pun intended, really. The fries he ate a few at a time in between the bites of hamburger and it seemed he was shoveling food into his mouth continuously. I pushed the mashed potatoes over toward him. "You can have these too if you want them." He looked around his plate and found a fork, changed the hamburger to his left hand and picked up the fork. He started on mashed potatoes interspersed with hamburger and the fries got a reprieve for a while. I sat back and watched. This kid hadn't seen food in a while, that was obvious. But he hadn't been on the streets that long, I don't think. He was thin but not skinny. Now that the dirt was washed off, he was really cute. Rich, lush black hair, a little long but clean now. He had deep brown eyes with light skin that had just a little olive or yellow in the complexion and his cheeks had a little darker shading. You had difficulty telling if his skin tone was Italian or Chinese. If it wasn't for the more almond shaped eyes I would have gone for the European influence, but I'm sure it's Chinese. He had long slender fingers that continued to clutch the hamburger. He finished the hamburger, had finished three quarters of the mashed potatoes, was slurping the bottom of the milk shake and started back on the French fries. He was so in to eating that he wasn't really paying attention to me. I hadn't finished more than half of my hamburger while I watched. I pushed my coke over to him. He pulled it toward him and started drinking that. "Thanks," he said with a mouth full. As he finished, he cleaned up everything on his plate, I continued to watch. "Are you feeling better now?" I asked. If we review the behavioral literature, food is right up there on the top of the importance list for survival. He had finished enough to be full for a while, now we needed to see what else we could do. "Yeah, that was good, Adam. Thanks. Are we going to have the cake too?" "I thought we'd wait until later. If that's okay with you?" "Yeah, that'd be fine. What do you want to do now?" "We could watch television or a movie, if you'd like to. Of course if you've got somewhere to go, I don't want to hold you from any important appointments," I said with a sarcastic tone. I certainly didn't think he had any plans for the evening. "You know I ain't got no appointments. I just don't usually have anywhere to be this early at night. I kinda stay out until the folks quits looking in certain places. I know where I can stay on particular nights. There's the bus station, the arcade, the old stone church on the other side of town on Fridays, but you always gotta wait until people quit checking or they might throw you out. I got a system. It's worked for me." He was pretty resourceful and pretty proud of himself. Most kids this age wouldn't know where to go and how to survive. "What do you do for food? And aren't you still in school?" I asked. "They can't come looking for me being missing if I don't got an address. So the true-ant officers just don't worry about kids like me. I guess I ain't been in school in three years. And I know how to get food. I lift stuff from the McDonalds and Burger King, like them little creams and sugar and stuff like that. There's the soup kitchens at a couple churches and then you watch the dumpsters of those fancy restaurants. Gosh, you'd be amazed what they throw away. You don't get fancy plates, but some of that food is good. But I don't like them Italian restaurants with all the spaghetti. I try and go to the restaurants that do steaks and pork chops, you know what you're eating there." "You really got a system. You're a little operator. How do you get money for things?" I probed. "Aw, you don't need that much money. I can take the bus, or I can walk. I don't have to get most places very fast so I walk. Ain't no big deal to me. I do some odd jobs for folks." "Come on, let's watch something on television," I said. I stood up and Marcus stood also. We went over to the chair and sofa. I sat at one end of the sofa, he went to the chair. "Marcus, come on over here on the sofa with me," I said. "Nothin' funny?" he asked. "Nothing funny. Just come over here and sit by me." I clicked the remote and started flipping through channels. Not much on the national networks. I found a series on HBO called "Dead Like Me" and we watched for a while. Marcus sat next to me on the sofa. I just lay my arms around his shoulder. The hour finished and we found an older movie called "Always." I'd seen this one before, but Marcus hadn't. I also knew it was a good movie and a tear jerker. I went back to the table and got the ice cream, peach cobbler and Black Forest cake and brought them over. I sat back down and Marcus started in on the ice cream. I sort of sat in the corner of the couch and pulled Marcus into me. He sat there and leaned back on to me, while eating his ice cream. As we watched I tried to explain certain elements of the movie to him. The idea of coming back after you were dead, communicating with people that are alive. And being yourself, not holding on to what used to be, but dealing with what is good and loving. It seemed to be the message I'd been dealing with for the last week. At the end of the movie, when Richard Dreyfuss finally let's go of his girl friend so that she can be happy, I was balling like a baby. Marcus had finished his ice cream by this point and looked up at me. He said, "Adam, are you okay?" "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I cry at the end of this movie all the time." "Why do you cry. He just did what Hap was telling him to do. Isn't that the whole point for him to quit holdin' on to her? He's been keepin' everybody down by not letting go." Where did this kid get such insight? "Yeah, I know I just feel so much like him, and have trouble letting go so I feel sorry when he has to finally do that. Have you done this before?" I asked. "I guess when mom died, I was pretty messed up, but eventually I had to find places to stay and get food. She told me that she was counting on me to grow up and do like she taught me. So, I eventually got over her dying and set about finding my way." "When did your mother die?" "Seems like forever, but I guess it was three years ago. She used to take me with her when she'd clean peoples' houses. That way we were together and I could watch television. At night we'd go to the City Mission or one of the church shelters." He was sitting there relaxed into my chest talking about how he had survived the last three years, and then what his mother had been like. He started on the streets by himself when he was about ten. We'd been sitting here on the couch for a while. I had my arms wrapped around his stomach. It had been a long evening. I think he was okay by now, but this whole experience was draining on both of us. Dinner, the TV series and now the movie; it was eleven-thirty and I was working tomorrow on Saturday. I needed some sleep. Lord knows I hadn't had much of that in the last week. "How about we go to sleep," I asked him. "Yeah, that's good," he said. I sort of moved my hands around to his back and pushed him out of the sofa. I stood up and rested my hands on his shoulders, directing him into the bedroom. I pointed to the far bed, and said, "That one over there is yours, I'll sleep here." I started taking clothes off, shoes, shirt, pants and socks. I stood there in my black Calvin Klein briefs and I pulled the comforter down on the bed and looked over. Marcus was sitting there on top of the bed, his hands quietly folded in his lap, looking down at his feet. I crawled into bed. Propped my head on my right hand and looked at him. "Well, what's wrong now?" I asked. "I just never slept in a hotel before, or with just another guy. I didn't know what I should do." "What do you mean you never slept with other guys? I thought you said you went to the City Mission and these church shelters. Weren't there other people there? Other guys?" "Yeah, but that was always a whole bunch of people, and we never got undressed when we slept. I just felt funny. I know you're being real nice, and I appreciate it, but I just never done this before." "Marcus, I don't bite, and I won't hurt you. I want you to be comfortable. What do you want to do?" Gosh, I'm glad I wasn't a parent, and this was just one night, this kid would take some work to deal with for a longer stretch. "Well, I guess since you got undressed I should. `Sides, that would make my clothes not as messy in the morning. Is that okay with you?" "Marcus, it very okay with me. Do you want me to not look while you get undressed?" "No, they're your clothes, I ought to not feel strange with you about this. So, would you help me get undressed? If you don't mind?" If I don't mind? ! ! ! ! "Marcus, come here. Over to the side of this bed." He stood up, and walked the couple steps. These rooms aren't that big. He stood there bashfully, and looked from his hands up to my face. He moved his head and his eyes sort of followed, he looked into my eyes with a question. I thought I knew it, and I knew the answer. No, I wouldn't! "Marcus, I'm not going to hurt you in any way. Let's take this real slow. First, let's take your shirt off." I lifted his new tee-shirt and he put his hands up. I pulled it up slowly, and then folded it and placed in on the bed. His skin was almost like silk. He didn't have any hair in his armpits and nothing else that was showing. I wanted to just caress that chest, but not now. His nipples were standing at attention amidst the darker areolas. "Now, hop up here and let me untie your shoes." He hopped up on the bed and I did the laces on the right one and pulled it off. I placed it next to the shirt, and I rubbed his foot, his arch and his toes. Then I pulled the sock off. Placed it on the shirt and again rubbed his foot. He'd just taken a shower and hadn't been out running around. He still smelled like the soap in the bathroom. Then I pulled the end of the lace on the other shoe. Tugged on the laces and got them loose, and pulled the shoe off. I placed it next to the first one, and massaged his foot in the sock. Then I rolled the sock down and off, straightened it out and placed it on the first one. I grabbed both feet and gently rubbed them. I looked up at Marcus, his face was watching my hands, but he felt my look and turned his face up. He cracked just the hint of a smile. I could see the corners of his mouth start to rise. His eyes said that he felt good, and I was okay. "Okay, lay down, and I'll take you pants off." I said. He lay back, and I undid the belt, then unbuckled the waist fastener on the pants, and undid the zipper. I lay my hand on his stomach. I said, "Okay, lift your butt and I'll pull these off." I grabbed around the waist and pulled the pants down while he lifted his butt. There he was in his white Calvin Klein briefs. The briefs weren't that loose and I could see where his small package was. His legs were smooth, no hair anywhere. I folded the pants and placed them on top of the shirt and socks. I grabbed Marcus's hands and pulled him up to a sitting position. "Okay, where do you want to sleep? In that bed, or in this one? The choice is yours." "Could I sleep with you? . . . Would that be okay? . . . You wouldn't mind?" he asked. He was really timid on this question. I think if I had said `no' or been strong in my answer he would have broken out in tears immediately. "That would be more than okay with me. Put your clothes over on the other bed, and climb in here, little one." His face broke into a wide grin. He picked up the stack of clothes and placed them on the other bed, right at the bottom corner, and then put the shoes on the floor, real close to them. He turned around and looked at me again. He wasn't sure what to do. I looked up and saw his indecision, and I opened my arms. He jumped up on the bed and right into my arms. I held him tight, and then kept on holding. "What is it, Marcus?" I asked while still holding him. "No one's held me like this since my mom died. She always told me how much she loved me, and we'd sleep together at night, but I haven't had anyone to sleep with since she died. Thanks, Adam." I just kept holding, I think that's what he needed right now. His breathing started slowing down. I think he'd dozed off. I pulled the coverlet and blanket back and pulled him into the bed next to me, and pulled the blanket back up. I didn't let go of him while I did that, I liked the contact, and I think he needed it. With my left arm I reached over and hit the switch on the light. All the light that was left was coming in through the windows. I could see him quietly resting with his face right up to mine. Resting on top of me, I had my hands cupping his little bubble butt and gently rubbing that soft cotton fabric. At times my hands would slide down further and stroke the backs of his legs, or higher and I'd feel the bumps of his spine. We eventually drifted off, he before me, as I watched him just lying there.