Date: Thu, 16 Oct 2008 06:46:22 -0400
From: chris james <drmeta4@gmail.com>
Subject: The Bridge to Anywhere, Chapters 1 & 2

Dear Readers: this is a story for adults, under 18 means you are not
permitted to read it.

	Once in a while I find myself creating characters that tug at my
heart and bring tears to my eyes. Many of you have read 'Gene' and felt the
pain and sorrow of an abusive childhood, even if it was a fictional
story. The best means of recovery from a life of sorrow and pain is to grow
up and become succesful at something grand. This is a story about such a
boy and the one man in his life who really care enough to help him stand
tall and proud. As always, your comments most welcome.

	drmeta4@gmail.com


		       The Bridge to Anywhere (M/B)

	Chapter One

	The tires of the truck seemed to scream as they struck the ribbed
asphalt of the bridge's apron. This was followed by a thunk as they hit the
metal expansion joint at the beginning of the span. Now there was nothing
but a hum from the tires as the speeding vehicle crossed the bridge and
shot up the road on the other side.

	Alan hadn't even bothered to look up this time; it was too dark to
see anything so why bother. He pushed the cardboard box up against the
steel beam a little further in an attempt to get comfortable. It had been
another long night of drifting in and out of sleep, moments of fitful rest
interrupted by the noise of traffic over his head.

	At least the mosquitoes hadn't found him up here scrunched in
against the bottom of the bridge. They had virtually eaten him alive that
first night down by the water before he realized his mistake. Sleeping here
wasn't anything like the camping trips his family used to take
before...before...

	Alan shuddered at the sudden memory of that most horrible of
moments. God must have been looking the other way that day...what was it
now, three months ago? The sadness seemed to sweep up out of nowhere and
Alan gasped at the pain it caused in his empty stomach. He felt the tears
flow from his eyes and sobbed at the thoughts...Oh God, what did I do to
deserve this?

	The Lord had taken her so quickly...too quickly for him to even
grasp what was happening. The moment his momma sat him down on the porch
swing and gazed into his eyes with a growing sadness on her face he knew
his life would change.

	"Oh baby...I have a cancer..." she had begun, and then two months
later she was gone.

	Alan had barely begun to grasp what it would mean to his young life
and then God had unleashed the devil himself. The boy had lived under her
protection...and then she was gone. Nothing could save him from his
father's wrath. It was as if the man blamed him for everything that had
gone wrong...but what hurt the most was that he did it in the name of the
Lord.

	The boy could endure the hate, the occasional beatings and even the
starvation his father forced him to endure. But to say that God himself
ordained that he was beyond redemption, that his sin was beyond saving
grace, was the harshest penalty, the final insult.

	Alan had finally dragged his bruised body out to the barn and tried
to hang himself. The old rope broke, slamming his body to the dusty floor
where the pain finally sunk in. His mind told him that he was as worthless,
he couldn't even end his life. But in his heart he knew the Lord was trying
to tell him something important, he just needed time to figure it out.

	The scream of another set of tires, the thunk, and then the hum
brought him back to his current situation. Alan closed his eyes and
prayed...prayed to the Lord he knew and not the one that guided his
father's life.

	"Forgive me Lord, I am just who you made me to be."

	It was the hardest part about accepting himself. For he had read in
the Bible that God had made man in his own image and that could only mean
he was meant to suffer. It had been only two years before when he had
accepted the Lord and been baptized to be born again in his faith.

	His momma had smiled upon him that day; his father had not even
glanced his way. He didn't understand how the man could hate him so. That
had all been before...even before the sin which shamed his family.

	Billy had only spoken to him casually before that cursed day. Billy
Hyatt...the very name still made his stomach churn with fear. But Alan had
felt the young man watching him all morning as they baled the hay and
stacked it in the barn. As hired hands went Billy was pretty good, his
father had chosen the guy because he worked so hard.

	At twenty-three, Billy had a hard strong body. Farm work had built
him a terrific set of muscles that Alan couldn't help but admire. At barely
sixteen, Alan's body was just starting to develop...he could only envy what
God had given Billy, and there was the shame.

	Maybe he had looked at Billy one too many times that afternoon, he
wasn't trying to be obvious in his admiration. Billy had grinned back and
told him to keep on working. It was as if something had passed between
them, but Billy was a lot friendlier after that.

	He remembered washing up for dinner and looking at his sun burnt
skin in the bathroom mirror. Billy was brown as a tobacco leaf from his
weeks in the fields, he would never burn. But Alan's days had been spent in
a classroom until the harvest, he would burn and peel no matter what he
did.

	It was after that fried chicken dinner when his mother suggested he
take the leftover chicken down to the trailer park where the hired men
stayed. Alan felt a sudden rush of excitement at being able to see Billy
again. He had never ventured to be sociable with any of the hired hands. It
was probably because of the language barrier, so many of them were Mexican.

	He remembered feeling the fading sun irritate his already tender
neck as he carried the box of food down the back road towards the
trailers. The old beat up pickup trucks were gone from beside the camp
which meant the Mexicans were probably off for a little well deserved party
time. Alan's father wouldn't allow them to drink on his property, it was a
sin he couldn't tolerate.

	But Billy's truck was there and Alan felt a thrill knowing that he
might be alone with the guy even for just a little while. He knocked on the
door of the trailer and stood back. A minute passed and he knocked
again...Billy opened the door and Alan almost dropped the box.

	It was incredible when he saw Billy take off his shirt as they
worked. But now the guy stood in the door with nothing but a towel wrapped
around his waist. The shock of seeing all that skin at one time made Alan
blush and worse...his eyes stared down at the bulge that was barely hidden
beneath the folds of cloth.

	"Uh...um...momma sent you some food," Alan managed to say.

	"Come on in," Billy laughed and he took the box from Alan's hands.

	The first thing the boy saw was the empty beer cans on the kitchen
counter, something that would make his father furious. Billy dropped the
box on his battered table and turned back around with a can in his hand.

	"You want some of this?" Billy asked.

	Alan shook his head, he'd never tasted beer. But it seemed the guy
wasn't going to take no for an answer. He swiped something off the counter
and held out his hand.

	"Here, take these...they'll make that sunburn feel better."

	Alan was feeling the pain on his shoulders something fierce and the
pills looked like aspirin. He grasped them with his fingers and popped them
in his mouth. Billy held out the beer can and reluctantly Alan took it to
wash down the pills. He took a sip, just enough to make the pills go down,
and almost gagged at the taste. Billy laughed as he took the can back and
chugged the remainder.

	"I was just about to get in the shower...I seen you looking at me
today," Billy said. And with that he dropped the towel to the floor. Alan
couldn't help himself, he had to look down and his heart almost stopped
beating.

	Billy was only an arm's length away and then he stepped
closer. Alan was frozen to the spot, his body refused to respond to
command. He wanted to flee but instead he felt his own shameful arousal
pushing out the front of his jeans.

	"So you do like this," Billy said, hefting his cock with one hand
while placing the other on Alan's shoulder. And then as if knowing how the
boy would respond he used both hands to push down until Alan was on his
knees. Billy laughed again and shoved his rigid cock in the boy's face.

	"Suck me, little man...I know you want to."

	Alan had dreamed about this moment, but only while masturbating in
bed at night. Billy had been the object of so much fantasy...so much
desire, and now it was all right there in his face. Billy pushed himself
forward and Alan opened his mouth.

	It was risky...dangerous beyond belief for them both. Alan had
braces on his teeth and Billy could have been hurt, but he wasn't. Alan had
never sucked a cock before; he didn't know the first thing about such an
activity. But he didn't have to do much because Billy grasped his head and
thrust into the heat of his mouth.

	Alan gagged at the immensity of that cock shoved down his
throat. The taste was strange and the smell of the guy's crotch
overpowering after a hard day's work. He wanted to please Billy; he wanted
to do whatever he was told. But he must have been a terrible cock sucker.

	Billy pulled away and grabbed Alan's neck. A hand flashed to the
boy's waist and unsnapped his jeans, pulling at them, clawing them down
around his ankles. Alan found himself being pushed down on the edge of the
couch as Billy ripped off his briefs. It was only the shock of such a
sudden attack on his clothing that kept Alan from yelling.

	Rough hands reached between his legs and grasped his ball sac,
pulling upwards. Alan began to struggle as he felt his balls being yanked
but he tumbled face first into the fabric of the couch. He didn't know what
was happening until he felt Billy push a wad of spit against his
asshole. He tried to turn away but that hand on his balls was in
control. And then Billy shoved his cock forward.

	The shear terror of the moment was almost negated by the searing
flash of pain that cock created as it tore into him. Alan screamed only to
feel a hand clamp down on his mouth and several more inches of hard flesh
shoved deep into his rectum. It was the moment Alan felt himself lose
control as his bladder let go and the blackness engulfed his mind.

	It could have been a few minutes or maybe even an hour later when
Alan regained consciousness. His pants were still around his ankles but he
could feel the lump of something wet pressed against his bottom, He
regretted it the moment he tried to move. His head swam and he began to
feel a numbness engulfing his whole body...what was wrong with him?

	"Just relax a bit...let the pills take effect," Billy said.

	Alan turned his head towards the sound of that voice and saw Billy
sitting in a chair across from the couch. He had on a pair of shorts now;
no tell tale bulge...no sign of what had just happened.

	Alan wanted to cry but his whole brain seemed numb. Billy had
fucked him...raped him, but he couldn't feel any pain back there. And as if
sensing the boy's confusion, Billy smiled.

	"I gave you a couple of Percocet for the sunburn. You'll feel numb
for most of the night, but that should take care of your tight little ass
too."

	Billy had drugged him and Alan knew that was plain wrong, but he
didn't seem to care.

	"I...I can't feel anything," Alan said, his words slurred as if he
were drunk.

	"I'm sorry, I got carried away," Billy said. "I just saw you
looking at me and knew you wanted sex. I've always known you were a little
faggot, but I didn't know you were a virgin. Don't you fags like to screw
around with one another? I never would have touched you if I knew you were
virgin like that. Sorry."

	Alan tried to raise his head and felt the room spin. He had to get
home, his father would wonder. Oh Lord, he was sure Billy had torn up his
asshole something fierce.

	"Am I bleeding?" Alan asked.

	"Little bit, most of it stopped right quick. You're gonna be sore
tomorrow...but hey, look at the bright side. Now you can go fuck all your
fag buddies whenever you want."

	The horror of what had happened washed over him and Alan began to
cry...it was unfortunately the moment his father chose to yank open the
trailer door.

	Billy was sent packing and left within the hour. Alan's father
almost dragged the boy back to the house, cursing the whole way. He fell
several times only to be yanked to his feet and forced to stumble
forward. The only words Alan could remember after that were the ones his
father said as he dropped the boy on the kitchen floor in front of his
mother.

	"Your God Damned little faggot son got hisself screwed in the ass,
does that make you happy now?"

	It was days before Alan could walk, even longer before he could sit
down without wincing. But he was not allowed at his father's table even
then, the boy felt as if he had been banished in his own home. And then his
mother got sick.

	In some ways Alan felt as if he were responsible for God's
condemnation on his family. The spring hay had come in but the corn crop
lay parched in the summer sun, the whole area of the state suffered under
drought conditions. Farmers knew they would lose the whole crop even if the
rains finally decided to fall; it was too late to save anything.

	Alan avoided his father, even when it came time to bury his
mother. The first encounter they had in the hallway that night led to a
beating, Alan knew he wasn't welcome in that house...it was time to leave.

	He thought about taking a truck but then he had no money for
gas. He loaded a few possessions and some clothes in a back pack and set
off on his bike. The ocean was three hundred some miles away to the east;
he had never seen it before so that's where he headed. Fifty miles later he
knew this had been a foolish move on his part; he had no idea where he was.



	Chapter Two

	The light was just about perfect this afternoon and Brandon wasn't
about to let that pass by unanswered. Throwing the camera bag in his
pick-up truck he drove out to prowl the quiet county roads of his new home.

	The rolling hills of the Piedmont, where the foot hills of the
Appalachian Mountains spread out across North Carolina towards the East
Coast. The area undulated with earthen folds that produced the lazy streams
and rivers feeding the Fear River basin. The roads Brandon traveled passed
across thousands of bridges, most barely wide enough to accommodate the two
lanes of asphalt roadway.

	Two summers ago he had moved here from the north, just another
transplanted Yankee hiding out in the tobacco lands of the South. Given his
preferences, he probably should have stayed in the north where life was
less personable. But the people here had easily seduced him.

	That some of them even wanted to know his name was a shock. The
first time a store clerk thanked him for coming in and told him to 'Have a
Blessed Day,' Brandon knew this was a different planet than the one he'd
left behind on the streets of Baltimore.

      His photographer's eye had told him that the light here was
exceptional, even on the cloudiest of days he found it appealing. That had
forced him to venture forth on the back roads with a map and a desire to
produce a book to feed himself over the coming winter.

      Not that the publishing industry hadn't already been kind, he had the
awards but just not the name. The latter was his own damn fault; he had
been publishing some of the best work under a pseudonym. Just the idea of
all that boy ass attributed to Brandon Clark made him shudder, what would
the family think if they ever found out?

      But those days were over; he was here and away from all of them in
the sleaze industry. No, this book was going to recall the best years of
life from childhood. It wasn't that far back, he remembered those years of
feeling free and reckless. At twenty-seven, Brandon knew that the approach
of the big three-O was all part of this inclination to return to
childhood. But through the lens he had already captured several golden
moments.

      The two little girls leaning on the back seat of their father's car
and staring at him through the glass, all ribbons and bows in their Sunday
best and waiting for church. But it was the identical gap toothed smiles on
their wide cocoa colored faces that caught his eye; they were the best of
friends.

      That one photo made him decide it would become the theme of this
whole work. Children and their closest companions, unfortunately he
couldn't recall many in his own life.

      Growing up with the certainty that he was different had made it
impossible for him to get close to boys his own age. Just the presence of
an attractive peer who stood too close was the cause for alarm. What if he
had lost control and blurted out something about the attraction. A young
Brandon was actually afraid he might do something that foolish. If someone
knew then he would die from the shame.

      Rescue came in the form of his eighth grade art teacher who
encouraged a budding interest in photography. She said he had an eye for
composition and handed him one of the schools precious 35mm reflex
cameras. It was like a dream come true.

      But his first show brought the school to a grinding halt and Brandon
was almost suspended. How was he supposed to know that they would be touchy
about a few drag queens on parade at two in the morning? Or the two leather
clad men embracing in the alley behind the police station? He thought all
his photographs were perfectly fine.

	Maybe he hadn't considered that these photographs would out him to
the school, but that's exactly what happened. His last series of photos
were self portraits of the bruises and broken nose a few of his peers
decided would enhance the looks of a faggot.

	But Brandon changed schools and got the last laugh on them. Several
years later he sold the photos for a band to use on their album cover. Not
original, but still pretty lucrative even when the band folded after eight
months.

	Companionship, Brandon guessed he wasn't much of an expert on the
subject. There had been some early fumblings and one rather serious
incident that outed him to his family. But twice he had found what he
thought was Mr. Right only to have the guy go slipping away.

	No doubt he had caused all the fights and the hard feelings. Guys
walked rather than put up with the emotions built up over the years. If
anything this assignment was a way of putting himself on the line, at least
maybe he could show the world that he knew something about life.

	Brandon pulled into a small crossroads store about five miles from
home and bought himself a pop. Yankees say soda; the local's call it
pop. The camera elicited curiosity from the old man behind the counter.

	"Are you gonna take pictures of the old mill before they tear it
down?" he asked.

	"I just might," Brandon said. "Where's it located?"

	"Down at the river. Just you go down the road until it forks and
take a left. It's about three miles down right after you cross the bridge."

	"All right, I'll give it a try," Brandon said.

	He found the fork and hung a left onto a narrow lane of potholed
asphalt, groaning every time his suspension clunked and rattled. He rolled
down a gentle slope and saw the bridge in the distance through the
trees. Sitting about halfway across the span was a guy on a bicycle. But as
he rolled onto the bridge the guy turned to look. A glimpse of blonde hair
flashing in the sun. Oh, it was a boy.

	The kid watched Brandon approach and nodded as he passed. Looking
back in the mirror Brandon saw him turn away and pedal back across the
bridge. The mill building was down the slope on the left, partially
obscured with heavy undergrowth. He found a place to park his pickup on a
piece of gravel and shouldered the camera bag.

	The ancient wooden structure was pretty dilapidated and it looked
like someone had taken away much of the waterwheel. It wasn't much but he
took a few shots behind the place, nice close ups of weathered wood and
rusting metal.

	It would be better if he could take a full shot of the site but it
sat so low in the depression next to the river that it was impossible to
get what he wanted. He looked across the river and saw that maybe he would
be able to get the shot from the far bank.

	Trudging across the bridge Brandon wondered what had happened to
the boy. It was probably some local kid just out looking for a summertime
fishing hole. He waded through the tall grass and slid down the bank
towards the water.

	Oh yes, the mill was good at this angle and he snapped a few
wide-angle shots. He was about to climb back up the bank when he looked
under the bridge and saw a bicycle lying in the grass. The boy was down
here somewhere and suddenly Brandon wanted to photograph him too.

	Brandon picked his way along the bank of the river until he came to
the first column that held up this side of the bridge. He looked up the
bank at the base of the roadbed but there was no one sitting under the
steel beams, where was the boy?

	The sound of rushing water was louder here under the span of the
bridge. He clambered across the rocks towards the second concrete pillar
and came upon the boy washing his shirt in a shallow pool.

	The kid didn't hear his approach but looked up when a shadow fell
across his legs. The face was dirty and yet the shear beauty of it was
startling. The blonde hair he had seen on the bridge, but those flashing
blue eyes and the wide grin took him by surprise.

	"Hey," the boy said.

	"I'm sorry, didn't mean to bother you," Brandon said.

	"Ain't no bother, you a photographer?" he asked.

	"I'm trying to be, isn't easy making a living with this thing. Can
I take a shot of you?"

	"Uh, naw, I'd rather you didn't," he said, "I might get in
trouble."

	"Oh, alright, sorry to bother you," Brandon said again, and he
turned to retrace his steps.

	"Don't go yet," the boy said suddenly.

	"My name's Brandon."

	"Alan...Alan Bennett," the boy said.

	"So why are you hiding out under this bridge on a fine summer
afternoon?"

	"What makes you think I'm hidin' out?" Alan asked.

	"I recognize the symptoms. I used to hide out under the freeway
overpass when I was your age. Maybe it was because my parents were fighting
or because I just wanted to be alone with a nudie magazine. It doesn't
matter, I'm sorry I interrupted you."

	"Yeah, it's something like that for me," Alan said. "You ain't from
around here?"

	"No, I'm just another damn Yankee who moved in, but I like it here
very much. How about you?" Brandon asked.

	"My family has a farm over in King, but my Pa and I don't get
along."

	"King...hell that's almost fifty miles from here. You rode all the
way here on that bike?" Brandon asked.

	"Yeah," Alan said.

	"Did you run away? Sorry, it's really none of my business."

	Alan looked at him and Brandon knew he was deciding if he could be
trusted. The boy licked his lips, and for the first time the braces on his
teeth were evident. At least the parents were concerned about his
appearance, dental work didn't come cheap.

	"You don't have to tell me, guess I'm just nosey," Brandon said.

	"Guess I'd be curious if I ran across a situation like this too,"
Alan said.

	Situation? What did he mean, they didn't even know each other and
already they were in something together?

	"Are you born-again?" the boy asked. A startling question.

	"Me? Not a chance," Brandon said.

	"You ever meet anyone who was just so different and hate them for
it?" Alan asked.

	"You mean like racist? I don't hate anybody."

	The boy became silent, reflecting a moment and then he spoke.

	"My father beat me bad three days ago so I left. A month ago my
mother died of cancer. At least she was on my side." Alan looked like he
was about to cry and so Brandon took up the story.

	"So you decided to take off for the coast, maybe hang out around
the beach for the rest of the summer. You don't have any money and so
you've been sleeping under bridges and washing up in the rivers, a real
pioneer."

	"Yeah, it's been like that," Alan agreed with a dry laugh. "I got a
few dollars so's I've been eating, mostly cupcakes and pop. But now my
braces are hurting and I need a dentist, but I can't afford it. What if my
Pa is lookin' for me?"

	Brandon looked down that the boy...what was the big secret? Deep
inside he was afraid Alan would eventually say he was gay. Oh God, he
wouldn't be able to walk away from a declaration like that. No, that would
be repeating the cycle of abuse he had received as a child, no one had
listened to his pleas either.

	"Did he have a good reason to throw you out?" Brandon asked,
fishing for the answer.

	"I...I can't tell you," Alan said turning his face away.

	"Does anyone else know?" Brandon asked. "Did he catch you?"

	Alan turned back, his eyes wide in fear and there was the answer.

	"My father caught me too," Brandon said. "He was a tailor and he
had a small shop. I stole the keys one Sunday afternoon and met the man in
the alley behind the store. He was a delivery guy for the grocery next
door, he was nineteen and I was fourteen.

	"He unleashed passions in me I never knew existed and we were in
each other's arms when my father walked in. He beat the grocery boy and
tried to beat me but I fought back. It was my own self-defense that made
him realize that I was never going to change. There were a lot of difficult
years but we've settled into sort of a truce about who I am, at least he
talks to me now."

	Alan was just staring up at him now but the fear in his eyes was
gone, replaced by the beginnings of real tears. Brandon sat down on the
rock and put his arm across the boy's shoulder.

      "Will you tell me about it?"

      "I...I got raped..."

	Alan began crying and Brandon hugged him close enough to feel his
young body trembling. Now what was he going to do? This was himself as a
child. This beautiful boy in his arms needed help. How old was he, fifteen,
maybe? He felt every ounce of the boy's fear, how could he fail to do
something?

	"Come home with me, Alan. I think we have a lot to talk about,"
Brandon said.

	"I can't," he said. "What if..."

	"If I hurt you? No, I could never do that. Having sex doesn't make
you a man, Alan, gay or straight. You're too young to be living like
this. Come home with me, you need a shower, some clean clothes and a decent
meal, then we'll talk, ok?"

	Alan finally nodded his approval and Brandon helped him push the
bike up the hill to the road.

	"Where does this road go anyway?" Alan asked.

	"Across this bridge the road goes anywhere you want it to go,"
Brandon said. "But first you have to learn how to read a map. It won't do
to have you wandering all the way across the state only to discover you're
in some place you don't want to be."

	That analogy summed it up. The boy didn't have any idea where his
life was headed. Brandon was like him once...he had no direction for a long
time thanks to his father. But this is so dangerous, society would be quick
to condemn if they found out. And Brandon knew that was part of the
attraction, this was another fight, one he could easily lose...but he had
to try...he had to.

	He lifted the boy's bike into the back of the truck. Alan only had
the clothes on his back and a tiny backpack. The boy hopped in the cab and
fastened his seatbelt. Brandon felt the boy's eyes and turned to find him
staring.

	"What...what made you want to help me?"

	"I told you, it happened to me too. Maybe I can wring some justice
out of this life if I help you. You're gonna grow up to be a handsome man,
Alan. Just remember me kindly when you get to be Governor, I might need a
favor."

	Alan smiled. "I have to trust you, Brandon, or I wouldn't be here,"
he said. "You didn't have to tell me about yourself, you could have just
walked away."

	Brandon thought about that as they rode on in silence. Sure, maybe
walking away was the easy out but Brandon knew he was past that now. He
needed a friend almost as much as Alan did. Sure, the boy was deeply
beautiful and it was only a short step further to wonder what he would feel
like.  But they both had other needs; maybe they could find a way to help
each other.

	Brandon's modest little spread was courtesy of sleazy book number
three, the one about phallic symbols, it was quite a success. Forty acres
and a mule wasn't his style, more like twenty acres and a comfortable log
home. The dogs ran to greet them as they pulled into the drive. As usual,
Suzie and Jill hopped in the bed of the truck until driven up to the house.

	"They don't bite," Brandon said, "but they might lick you to
death."

	"I like animals," Alan replied. Yeah, he was a farm boy all right.

	Alan raced around the yard with the dogs and it was joy watching
them run. Brandon let Alan give them their food and so began the bonding
process between boy and animal. Now it was his turn to make the boy feel
welcome.

	The first thing that greeted them inside the door was the
mess. Brandon ran around the room and picked up the detritus of his current
life. Snatching up a few cum stained towels and some porno magazines from
the couch, he headed back towards the laundry room. When he returned, Alan
was sitting on the couch with an open magazine on the coffee table in front
of him.

	"Oh shit, don't go looking at that stuff," Brandon said.

	"They're fuckin but it looks like fun," Alan said. "That's not the
way I remember it at all."

	"It can be pleasurable, but not the way it happened to you. Now
fork over that crap."

	"You have a boyfriend?" Alan asked as he handed over the magazine.

	"If I did I wouldn't be reading all this smut. The gay scene down
here isn't quite what I expected."

	"You can say that again," Alan said.

	"Come on, kiddo, you need a shower and some clean clothes."

	Brandon handed him a towel and pushed him towards the
bathroom. Socks and underwear were no problem, but he might not have pants
short enough for the boy. His waist seemed to be about a twenty-eight and
Brandon was thirty-two. He opted for sweatpants and a T-shirt.

	The sound of running water was reassuring, it was nice having
company. In the past two years he'd never had another person in his home
other than the plumber and some woman who just stopped by to admire the
place. Alan would sleep in the guest bedroom so Brandon hustled a few
things off the bed in there and looked around to see if he needed to remove
any other damning material.

	Brandon hadn't brought the boy here to share pornography or the
bong he kept hidden in the closet; he didn't deserve to be treated like a
trick. Someone else had already started the cycle of abuse. He could feel
there was a sad story ahead if the boy was willing to talk.

	The shower went off and Brandon waited for him to open the door. He
was even more beautiful when he appeared at the door with only a towel
around his waist.

	"Don't suppose you have a spare toothbrush?" the boy asked.

	"Your lucky day, I actually do," Brandon said.

	He stood at the door and watched Alan brush, guessing his teeth
hurt from all the stuff pushed up under his braces. Alan examined his teeth
in the mirror, turning first to one side and then the other.

	"I still need a dentist," he said. "Some of the wires are coming
loose. Damn, I was gonna have them off in two months. Maybe I should just
rip them out, got any pliers?"

	"Whoa there, no dental work allowed in this house. We'll find you a
dentist first thing tomorrow, ok?"

	Alan stared at him in the mirror, one finger hooked over his bottom
teeth.

	"I can't be asking you to spend money on me," he said.

	"No, you'll be spending your own money. I'm thinking about hiring
you to work for me as a photographer's assistant," Brandon said.

	Alan's eyes got wide and he turned, making Brandon all too aware
that they were standing uncomfortably close.

	"Why would you do that? I don't know nothin' about cameras."

	"But you can think like a child and that's what I'm shooting for
this book. You should dress and then we'll talk about it."

	Brandon was just too aware of the body only inches from his and
Alan was pushing himself closer for a reason. It ended up being a kiss on
the cheek. Not a bad reward, the chaste kiss from a boy, a friend.

	"That was sweet."

	"Thank you, Brandon. Do you believe in God?"

	"I suppose, I just think that religion has forced its way between a
man and his Maker."

	"Yeah, I see it like that too. But God brought you into my life and
I can only be grateful for that."

	The boy retired to the guestroom and Brandon closed the door so he
could change in peace. His cheek still tingled from the kiss and be he
hoped Alan wouldn't do it again. He would have to be careful, he was the
adult here and this boy certainly felt no constraints about where the
friendship might go.

       Brandon picked up the dirty clothes off the bathroom floor and after
a brief examination tossed them in the wash. The pockets revealed some
keys, a few coins and seven dollars. Alan really had been at the end of his
rope. He would never have made it to the beach and even if he did, well,
there were lot's of boys looking to make a living down there.

	Just as so many runaways turned to prostitution and drug dealing to
feed themselves, Alan would have been up to his neck in trouble within
days, if not hours of hitting the coast. His natural beauty was an asset
but only if he wasn't in a desperate situation, then it would only bring
him grief.

	The boy joined him in the kitchen, he didn't look too uncomfortable
in the hand me down clothes.

	"What should I wear on my feet?" he asked.

	"I have boots if you go out in the yard, but we'll have to dig up
something when we go into town, I guess we'll have to shop. Want a pop?"

	"Tell me about this book you're makin'," Alan asked.

	Brandon pulled out the contact sheets he'd printed up from the
first ten rolls. Alan seemed surprised at the content.

	"There aren't any naked pictures in here," he said.

	"Lord no, I am not into kiddie porn, silly boy. What do you think I
am?"

	"I dunno, you just said you were takin' pictures of kids and I
thought..."

	"Gay men are not perverts, well at least ninety-nine percent of us
anyway. Yes, I've done adult porno pictures before, it paid the bills. This
is going to be a classy book about children and their best friends."

	"Oh," Alan said as he looked back down at the sheets.

	"Look at the smile on that boy's face as he looks over at his
friend, the pig is the only thing between them. That look says it all, he
loves his friend and that's what I'm out to capture. I want those innocent
moments of love between friends and the way they share their lives."

	Alan looked up at him with something akin to awe. Yes, he
understood the moment Brandon was after. Now maybe he would think of
situations to shoot.

	"I don't have a best friend, never have," Alan said. "I guess the
feelings I had kept me from sharing that kind of thing with another
boy. I've looked at other boys before Billy came along, but it was just too
hard to say anything."

	"Billy was the boy you got in trouble with?"

	"He wasn't a boy...can we talk about that later?" Alan asked.

	"Sure, whenever you feel comfortable." Brandon said. "The first
step was the hardest for me too. He lived in the apartment above us and his
bedroom was above mine. I began to hear the squeaks when we were both about
twelve. I knew he was beating his meat up there but I couldn't say anything
to him.

	"One night we had a sleepover and I asked him if he ever did it
with anybody. He told me I was a pussy and denied ever touching
himself. The next night the squeaking got louder and I knew he was teasing
me. I hated him after that."

	"Did your bed squeak a lot?" Alan asked with a smirk on his face.

	"I was the jerk off champ of the North Side, I assure you."

	"I started when I was thirteen, it's my favorite sport. Sometimes I
do it five or six times a day."

	"Oh, kiddo, you're gonna wear it out before you reach twenty. Are
you hungry?"

	"Starving," Alan said.

	They pulled cold cuts and cheese from the fridge and looked in the
pantry for some soup. Alan started opening cabinets until he found a sauce
pan and some plates.

	"We'll start with this, I'll make us a really good dinner later,"
Brandon said. "Anything special you like to eat?"

	"I ain't picky, but I am partial to hamburgers and fried chicken,"
Alan said.

	"I can do that."

	"I can cook if you want me too. My Pa made me cook all the time."

	"Then I guess we won't starve. It would be nice to have you help
out."

	They ate on the screened porch and watched the squirrels playing in
the trees. Brandon wanted to ask so many things but it would have broken
the peaceful mood. They took the dirty dishes in and set them in the
sink. And as Brandon rinsed off the bowls, Alan came up behind him and
hugged him around the waist.

	"Do you believe God brought us together?" Alan said quietly. "I
think He sent you out to find me."

	The boy could only be the product of a serious religious upbringing
with talk like that. Brandon had avoided those earlier comments because he
didn't usually get into discussions on religion with anyone. But this part
of the state was heavily Baptist, the conservative and not so gay friendly
kind. He turned around and wrapped his arms around the boy's
shoulders. Alan's eyes stared up at his...begging for an answer.

	"I pretty much think that people around here don't believe God
likes us queer folk," Brandon said. "I don't advertise my sexuality to the
neighborhood and I want it to stay that way. As to Him bringing us
together...I suppose you could give Him credit if you want. I sure don't
have a better explanation."

	"My Pa is born again Christian, Brandon. He thinks everything I do
is sinful but I know his heart and mind ain't right either. I know he goes
over to Mrs. William's house and they fornicate. He was doin that even
before Ma died, the stupid bastard. I also know he and Jed Collins were
makin moonshine and selling it to the bikers over in Thomasville."

	"Are you born again, Alan?"

	"Ma had me baptized when I was younger but I don't know as that
counts for much anymore. Why do guys like us have to be queer, Brandon? It
seems like God should be mighty angry with us for what we do."

	Brandon smiled. "The God you speak of isn't my image of the Creator
at all. He made me the way I am and I think that should be enough of an
explanation for anybody. None of us is perfect...except maybe you. He
certainly did a wonderful thing when he made you."

	Brandon knew the minute the words left his mouth that they should
never have been spoken aloud. But it seems Alan had been waiting for some
clue...some sign of acceptance. His arms reached for Brandon's neck and
pulled their faces together until their lips met. Brandon ended it by
pushing the boy away and turning back to the sink.

	"This isn't going to be easy for me, Alan. I find you attractive,
but at your age..."

	"I know, I'm just a kid. But what if I say it's ok? I have all
these feelings, Brandon. I have to know what they mean. It's messin up my
head."

	"Damn it, I know, boy. I went through it too."

	"Look, Brandon, I'm sixteen, I'm on my own now, I have to make my
own decisions about life. You came out of the blue, it's like my prayers
have been answered...don't push me out like my Pa did."

	That was a low blow and it hurt. What could he tell the boy? He was
just so damn young. What would he have done in this position? One thing he
realized, he needed time to think.

	Brandon looked up through the window above the sink. "I could never
push you away...but having you here puts a responsibility on me." He turned
back to the boy. "I know you feel like we should just hop right in bed and
take care of business...but that can't happen."

	He stared down into those sad eyes, those amazing pools of watery
blue. "You need me and I need you. I only want what's right for you,
Alan. I think sex would be the wrong thing right now. This isn't a
rejection of you....more like the fact that I recognize what we need is
greater than our own pleasure."

	Alan smiled. "You do like me...don't you?"

	"Yes...very much, but right now I don't think sex is the way for me
to show you how much I care about you. We both need time to understand one
another, this is happening too fast. There are so many things you need in
life, and tomorrow we start taking care of them."

	The smile had never left the boy's face, if anything it had
widened. "You do like me, that makes me so happy."

	Brandon could only smile in return and hope the boy understood what
they were up against. Life was going to take on some dramatic changes
around here with a teenager in the house. Especially since Alan was one of
the most desirable creatures he had ever encountered. Yes, it was almost
enough to make him think some higher power had brought them together.