Date: Sat, 27 Sep 2008 20:53:39 -0400
From: chris james <drmeta4@gmail.com>
Subject: Gene, Chapters 1 & 2

Dear Reader: this is an adult fiction story, persons under the age of 18
are not allowed to read this.

	I have received such an outpouring of reader affection that I could
no longer delay in posting yet another story. To those whose kind words
inspire my work I offer this story. You will fall in love with Gene even
though he exists only in my mind, I hope he soon becomnes a part of yours.

	drmeta4@gmail.com




				Gene (M/B)

      Chapter 1

      Wednesday morning found the boy sitting on the courthouse steps in
faded jeans and a button-down shirt that clung tightly to his slender
body. His head turned this way and that, looking at the stream of people
approaching the steps and forming a line to be admitted through the
security checkpoint.

      The boy was looking for someone he had never met before. They had
spoken on the phone only once...some guy named Bradshaw. But this guy had
asked him to wait outside the courthouse. His whole situation was pretty
fucked up, but this guy had promised to help.

      Probably some old fart that had been assigned to his case, the boy
thought. But his momma had insisted he get there and meet with the man, it
was a freebie after all. Maybe the guy knew a decent public defender
because he sure couldn't afford a lawyer.

      Ben Bradshaw had parked his car behind the courthouse, finding a spot
against the far wall to protect his car. He didn't need some crack head SOB
getting angry at the judge and screwing up cars in the employee's lot just
for a little revenge. He walked around the building in search of his nine
o'clock appointment.

      The client, one Eugene Michael Carr, was a little older than most of
his first time offenders. The file in his hand said the boy was seventeen
and that meant adult court. Good, maybe they would get Judge Malcolm and
then the case would be a breeze.

      Ben rounded the corner of the courthouse and saw the kid sitting on
the steps. His first take was that the boy had never appeared before a
judge and didn't know that looks mattered. Not that he was dirty, no...in
fact he looked well groomed...but thin, damn the boy was skinny.

      Ben would have much rather presented him in a coat and tie, but it
was likely that the boy didn't own such apparel, or if he did it was likely
too small for his growing body. Parents can hardly keep up with their
children's everyday clothing needs much less any kind of formal attire. He
had learned that by dealing with so many juvenile cases over the years.

      "Gene?" Ben asked, as he approached the boy.

      The kid smiled, looking like the Cheshire Cat with that grin. His
long brown hair covered enough of his face that most of what Ben saw was
that smile and pearly white teeth. But the boy stood up before Ben reached
him, sticking out his hand by way of greeting.

      "Mr. Bradshaw?"

      "Yes I am. Good to meet you, Gene."

      Rule number one is to use the client's name several times in opening
conversation. That was Ben's rule anyway since he seemed to have a terrible
memory for names. But this would be one client he could hardly forget. Gene
was simply...well, adorable was the only word that he could think of.

      They shook hands and the boy used his left hand to brush back the
strands of hair that hung in his eyes, his very blue eyes.

      "Whoops, there you are," Ben joked. "Don't know how you can see where
you are going?"

      Gene's face was clean and fresh but there was a certain hesitation in
his eyes and his body language spoke volumes about the situation. A nervous
frown had followed that initial smile. Good, Ben needed to see that, didn't
pay to be cocky. Lord, the boy was so skinny.

      "Did you get some breakfast?" Ben asked.

      "Um...no, I don't usually eat this early," the boy replied.

      "Well our appearance won't be for a while yet, probably a couple of
hours before the court settles down. Let me go in and talk to the clerk
just to let them know you're here for the appearance. I won't be but a few
minutes, why don't you wait for me here."

      "Um....sure," Gene said.

      The boy looked relieved, probably because he didn't have to enter the
courtroom just yet. Ben knew that feeling. No one, plaintiff or defendant,
ever seemed quite willing to step into the halls of justice.

      Ben pushed through the doors and side-stepped the waiting line while
clipping his court ID badge to the breast pocket of his suit coat. He
avoided the scanners and received only a cursory nod from the security
staffer standing there. Walking past the courtroom doors, still locked at
this hour, Ben punched in a code and stepped through the employee's access
door.

      Here were the clerk's offices, break room and guard station. The
hallway ran on into the distance, back to the judge's chambers and the
clerical staff that supported their work. He saw several lawyers
congregated by the coffee bar and a couple of them nodded his way. Not a
prosecutor in sight just yet, they were probably upstairs in their offices
gathering the day's paperwork.

      Ben approached the Clerk of the Court's desk in the corner and smiled
down at Tammy Walters.

      "Mornin' Ben, have an appearance today?" Tammy asked.

      "Yes, ma'am, another day in the trenches. Eugene Carr, he should be
on the docket," he said.

      Tammy scanned the list and nodded, scribbling her initials beside the
name, she wrote "Bradshaw" there as well.

      "Got you covered, Ben. By the looks of things it might be late
morning for you."

      "Thanks, Tammy, you're a dear."

      "Aw, you always say that...but it doesn't get me anywhere," she
grinned.

      "Probably because that husband of yours would shoot me for sure," Ben
replied. "Going to take my little client across the street, want anything
for breakfast?"

      "No thanks, sweetie. I have my yogurt in the fridge already, but
thanks for asking."

      Ben and Tammy had been friends for years and she was continuously on
a diet for some unknown reason. She couldn't weigh over a hundred and
twenty pounds soaking wet, but then Ben felt he never would understand the
women in his life.

      He might be the only bachelor left standing at the Marsh County
courthouse these days, but he wore that mantel with pride. Ben knew he
could have become a lawyer like his father, and his father before him, but
he didn't. The law was still a big part of his life, but he had chosen
psychology and social work instead.

      Rather than finding his name on a brass plate beside twenty other
unknowns in a law firm, Ben had taken what he considered to be the high
road. Graduating at twenty-four and still unsure of what he wanted to do
with his talents, Ben had started his own business.

      There was a need for someone like him. Kids seemed to be getting in
trouble at a higher rate and the courts were desperate for
relief. Alternative sentencing programs became the solution to locking kids
away where they could only learn more bad habits. And there he was, just in
the nick of time, with something the courts could use.

      There was resistance from the law and order types who thought that
bad kids ought to be taken off the street. But all too soon these children
were back where they started from and the system discovers that it was the
parents who should have been locked up in the first place. And that's when
Ben stepped up to the plate, at least here in this small corner of the
state.

      With the backing of several overworked judges, his company soon had
enough money in hand to get rolling, and roll they did. Sixty clients the
first year snowballed into two hundred the second. And here he was six
years later with a staff of five and two full time partners. Business was
brisk; there was always a kid out there in trouble.

      And those thoughts brought him back around to Gene. His was a case
Ben knew would be handled personally from the moment his saw the case
file. The boy's crime? Gene had called his social studies teacher a
'faggot,' and Ben took that personally.

      Gene was suspended from school for a week, not the best option, but
from the principal's point of view it eliminated the problem, albeit
temporarily. The matter became legal when the teacher filed a complaint
with the school board. But by then Gene had returned to school and three
days later did it again to the same guy. Something was up.

      Now either this teacher was a royal screaming asshole and hated
straight young white boys or Gene was reacting to some other influence. Ben
didn't think the teacher was at fault, although he believed the guy had
started the whole mess.

      From what he read in the file, the teacher, one Mr. Simon Hanover,
had decided to show the class a picture of his long time partner. Ok, that
shocked even Ben. What was the reasoning behind this approach? But it seems
the kids knew the man was gay and as questions were asked Hanover decided
to tell them about himself, all with the principal's approval of course.

      Sure, Ben thought, we live in a time of outrageous behavior and every
parent sees a gay teacher as a potential child molester. But if the truth
be known, it was the straight guys out there doing all that molesting. Gay
teachers weren't even on the radar and Ben thought Hanover was just trying
to alleviate any fears regarding his orientation.

      And then along comes Gene. It seems he took one look at the photo and
asked Hanover if this was the guy he was 'butt fucking.' Hanover screamed
at the boy in front of the whole class, the students were probably all
either in shock or laughing so hard they didn't hear much of the ensuing
conversation. But Gene called Hanover a 'faggot' as he was escorted down to
the principal's office.

      Ok, that was taking it a bit far. But Ben was a gay man and could
understand Hanover's motivation. He didn't have a partner like Hanover,
that hadn't happened. In his thirty years of life Ben had never formed what
might be called a lasting relationship with anyone. His parents and sister,
cousins and friends, none of them knew of his sexual preference.

      It seemed like a delicate matter, one that he could never bring
himself to discuss openly. Like many gay men in these southern states, his
bedroom preferences would never be exposed if he could help it. Not that he
had anything going on in that room at the moment, far from it.

      But there had been lovers, a couple here and there over the
years. Ben didn't fully realize his chosen preference until college, and
probably because that was the first time he had ever lived away from
home. Yes, he had looked at guys earlier than that, but growing up in the
same county his whole life, and still working there to this day, it seemed
like a bad idea to come out.

      College life opened the closet doors for a while and Ben learned what
it meant to be a gay man. But psychology students underwent extreme
scrutiny as they advanced through the years of education towards a
career. They all had to undergo testing before a license to practice, and
Ben kept his habits in check with that day in mind.

      So six years into this business and he still slunk away to the beach
to cruise, or took a commuter flight to the big city for a weekend of
looking. This was the south; Ben wouldn't be welcome to hang out a rainbow
flag even if he had wanted to.

      So to his mind Hanover was a bit of a hero, even if he had started
the riot so to speak. And Gene, well waiting outside the courthouse was a
troubled kid, one that Ben needed to figure out before the boy dug that
personal hole of his any deeper.

      Ben wasn't kidding himself; Gene was an attractive human
being. Beauty was something he always noticed in daily life. But Gene was
still a boy in his eyes, a young man who would grow up properly with
guidance, or slip and fall into the pits of hell administered by the
justice system.

      Gene Carr, seventeen, mother and step-father. This is what Ben knew
of him from the case file. Now he was going to have to dig. There was
always something deeper in cases like this. In any case, Ben wasn't immune
to the sadness associated with child abuse; he just hoped it wasn't the
case here.



      Chapter 2

      Gene was standing beside one of the solid pillars that held up the
courthouse. Long ago Ben had decided to become one of those pillars
himself, figuratively that is, justice was in his blood. What the kid
didn't need to know was anything about Ben's sexual orientation, at least
not at present. Their relationship needed to be on a different plane so he
intentionally refused to notice the prominent bulge at the front of Gene's
jeans.

      "You ready to go?" Ben asked.

      "Where to?" the boy replied.

      "Don't know about you but I need something to eat, let's walk across
to Irene's, they serve a mean omelet," Ben suggested.

      "Do they have a bathroom?" Gene asked.

      "They sure do, I have to wash up anyway."

      They walked across the square and dodged the morning traffic on Third
Street. Ben held the door to Irene's Place for Gene and the kid entered
without giving him a glance.

      "Bathroom's at the back," Ben said, giving Irene a nod and a smile.

      "Mornin, Ben," she called. "Table for two?"

      "Yup, be right back, darlin," he replied.

      Gene had already made a B-line for the Men's room and Ben followed
along a few steps behind. There was only one urinal but the boy ignored
that and stepped into the toilet stall. Ben stepped up to the sink and
began to wash his hands. He could almost hear the boy sigh as his zipper
came down. A hard stream of built up water began to hit the toilet bowl
with the ferocity of a fire hose.

      Ben almost chuckled at the sound, imagining the boy probably had
quite a hose between his legs. After all he was a country boy and you know
what they say about those skinny ones. Gene's piss lasted for almost a full
minute, enough time for Ben to wash his hands and pull several paper towels
from the dispenser on the wall.

      The toilet flushed and Gene stepped out from the stall and smiled.

      "Man, I needed that."

      "You could have come into the courthouse and used the bathroom," Ben
said.

      "Naw, it just hit me all of a sudden," the boy replied and then began
to blush.

      Was it because they both knew he'd had a piss hard erection? Ben
moved aside from the sink so Gene could wash his hands and made the mistake
of checking out the kid's crotch. The zipper was only halfway up and Ben
could see the blue fabric of the kid's boxers through the opening. But that
wasn't all, Gene still had that hard on underneath it all and the head of
his cock was pushing the boxer fabric out through the opening.

      He has to feel it there, Ben thought...didn't he? Why boys his age
were determined to keep their cocks straight up in their pants and tucked
in under the waistband no one will ever know, but Ben knew he had done it
too. Now if he called attention to the zipper Gene would certainly be
embarrassed, but if nothing was said then matters could get worse. He had
to call attention to that damn zipper.

      Ben tossed the paper towel at the trash can and missed, bouncing it
off the sink instead and causing it to hit the boy's thigh. Fortunately
Gene looked down at the towel and Ben turned away to give him time to
restore his zipper to its proper position. Ben never missed what he aimed
at. Four years of high school basketball taught him that much.

      Gene smiled again as Ben held the bathroom door for him, noticing the
zipper back in place where it belonged. Unfortunately the bulge was still
there too. The boy had hidden talent and Ben supposed it was now part of
his job to find out what Gene was doing with it.

      They sat at a table against the wall and Irene placed a full coffee
mug in front of Ben. She smiled at Gene.

      "What'll you have to drink, sweetie?" she asked.

      "Uh...." was all the boy managed.

      She ran her fingers across his forehead and brushed the hair back out
of his eyes. Gene looked up at her and Irene smiled back. "You have nice
hair, hun, it's so soft. But you better speak up cause I have lots of
customers this mornin."

      "Order what you like, Gene, breakfast is on me today."

      "I'll take a sweet tea, please," he said and Irene turned away to get
his drink.

      Ok, the kid had no money in his pocket, probably none at home
either. Why any self respecting parent would let a kid out the door without
a couple of dollars in their pocket was beyond Ben's comprehension,
guessing he would have to buy lunch too.

      "How did you get to the courthouse this morning? Did your mom bring
you?" he asked.

      "Mom...? No, she's still in bed, I guess. I had a friend drive me
over on his way to school."

      Just about what he figured. This was a court appearance for a minor,
if anything one of his parents should have been present, but Ben had known
they wouldn't. He was asking for a continuance anyway so it didn't matter
this morning. But the woman had better be there for the next court
date. Ben made a mental note so see what he could do to subpoena her lazy
ass.

      "Then you have a good friend in him, give him my thanks. And now, I
am gonna have the western omelet, with a side order of tomatoes and maybe
some hash browns. How about you?"

      "I'm not hungry, thanks," Gene said.

      "Yes you are," Ben said. "I never met a boy that couldn't eat at
least twice what I'm planning to have. I don't want to hear your stomach
complain while we're waiting in court so you better eat now. In fact, I am
going to buy you lunch as well so you better get used to the idea."

      Gene looked at him and Ben could see wheels turning in this kid's
head. The boy didn't understand him yet, he was puzzled. But still, there
was more than curiosity behind those baby blues.

      "Why...why you bein' so nice to me?" Gene asked.

      The words hit Ben like a ton of bricks....and suddenly he knew. They
teach psychology students how to analyze patterns of speech in shrink
school because people tend to hide their true feelings when
questioned. This was nothing like that. This was right out in the open
where he could read the bold print. It was the sound of a child that had
been there before...and been burned.

      To say that Gene mistrusted adults was probably too easy. He had an
experience or two under his belt that had taught him to question everyone's
motives. Child abuse was a possibility, but then there were a dozen other
things it could be. But when the boy questioned the mere fact that someone
would feed him...it made Ben shudder deep inside. He smiled at Gene,
attempting to disarm those internal thoughts. He had to, their work was
just beginning.

      "For several reasons, Gene. I hate to eat alone, or maybe I don't
want your stomach growling in front of the judge, yelling 'feed me, feed
me.' Or maybe I happen to know that you don't have any money in your pocket
and I'm just a nice rich guy. But you wanna know the real truth?  I can
write this off as a business expense and make the school board pay for it,
those silly old farts."

      Gene's eyes got big and a grin lit up his face.

      "Man, you are some kind of crazy, huh?"

      "Shh, not too loud, you'll be giving away all my secrets." Ben looked
at the boy's reaction and couldn't hold back any longer, he gave a loud
laugh and settled back in just as Irene brought the tea.

      Gene just shook his head as if wondering just what kind of nut case
he had latched onto. Ben gave Irene his order and she looked expectantly at
the boy. Gene smiled.

      "I'll have the same, please."

      "Good for you, be right up guys," Irene said.

      After she left Ben returned his gaze to the boy. He was happy now, a
mood swing for sure, but only because he was hungry.

      "So you think I'm crazy, huh?" Ben asked. "Not that I want to be mean
about it, but you're the one who couldn't stop calling that teacher names."

      "I...I didn't say it to be mean. Hanover is ok, I just didn't...well,
I didn't know how to say what I wanted to ask him. It all came out wrong, I
guess," Gene said.

      "I suppose that's one way to look at it, at least now that you've had
time to think about it. Do you suppose you just opened your mouth before
you engaged your brain?"

      Ben wasn't trying to give Gene an excuse for what he did, but the
boy's behavior was beginning to form a pattern in his mind. Kids that are
ignored seem to talk faster and think less about what they might
say. Attention deficit disorder children are like that. The communication
between parts of the brain that control rational thought and speech didn't
always cooperate the way they should. Outbursts of name calling were also
signs of Tourettes, although he didn't see the other classical signs of
that malady in Gene.

      He wasn't about to rush into a diagnosis after one meeting, but it
always set the wheels spinning when Ben first met a client. There would be
time enough to understand the boy and what motivated him. But there was a
lot more to discover before even approaching any conclusions that he might
present to the court.

      Gene was looking at Ben, that puzzled look had returned to his face.

      "What are you thinking?" he asked. "Looks like you went inside your
head there for a moment."

      "Hmm, I did....sorry. You know I learned a lot about people and what
makes them tick when I was at school. That's the nature of my business with
you and the court. There will be times when I might have to ask you some
uncomfortable questions, but you always have the right not tell me. At some
point I am going to have to tell the court something about you, good or
bad, it's not my choice to make."

      "You want me to be honest, don't you?"

      "Absolutely, Gene, it's important that you do. But you might have to
learn something else first and that might be harder."

      "What's that?"

      "You have to learn that no matter what you say to me that no one else
will know if you don't want them to. You have complete confidentiality with
me; do you understand what that means?"

      "You're not gonna tell anyone what I say?"

      "Exactly right. It's a level of trust you have yet to understand. I
am here for you and you alone, nobody else. But that won't make it
easy. Sometimes a person has bad experiences in life and they don't trust
people easily, I understand that. I know we all want to trust our friends
or our family, but what we have is even better, its special, and no one can
get me to talk about the things you tell me in trust."

      Gene looked at him, the puzzlement gone from his eyes. Now he knew
where they stood, he and Ben could be special.

      "That's cool," Gene said. "It's like a best friend....only better."

      "You got that right," Ben said.

      And without asking or even hinting that they were on the same
wavelength, both raised their right hands and high-fived right there at the
table. They both broke up laughing at the gesture and Irene was the one who
looked puzzled as she lay their breakfast out on the table.

      Gene tried very hard not to wolf down his food, which would be giving
too much away. He was really thin and to Ben's eye malnourished, it spoke
volumes about his caregivers. Ben didn't want to paint the boy's mother as
uncaring; he had not even met her yet. But he would, and very soon.

      The word stepfather often seemed to imply a lack of caring towards
another's children, but Ben knew that wasn't always the case. Some men rose
to the occasion and were wonderful fathers; it was often the kids who had a
hard time accepting the relationship.

      But he couldn't know when Gene had last had a decent meal, and he
knew better than to ask.

      "So what do you think? A great omelet or what?" Ben asked between
bites.

      "Yeah, you were right about that, I never had better," Gene said.

      "Well, she left out the mushrooms and anchovies this time, I'm
upset."

      Gene's fork hesitated halfway to his mouth, "Eww, you don't mean you
like those things...do you?"

      Ben snickered and Gene saw a twinkle in his eye, just kidding. The
boy shook his head and slid the food in his mouth. 'Crazy man,' he mumbled
under his breath. But he was beginning to like this crazy guy. It was like
the man understood him a lot more than he realized. Well why not; he was
still a young guy, barely twice as old.

      They had become silent as they ate. Wasn't like they needed to share
words but Ben could feel the boy's attitude changing. He was more
accepting, more willing to understand. Ben didn't mistake that as trust, it
was too soon, the kid didn't even know him.

      And if he did, what would that mean? If he knew Ben was a gay man
would it destroy the budding feelings they shared? How insecure the boy
felt about gay people was bound to become a part of their discussion at
some point. There was no good reason to out himself at this point, it would
be selfish. That's not why Gene needed him here and now....but what about
later on?

      Who was he kidding? Gene was physically attractive, the big bone
between his legs and all the rest of him too. But Ben knew he was the adult
here and although this wasn't exactly therapy it was close enough for him
to feel uncomfortable with these thoughts.

      They had some things in common, not much to go on for a relationship
though. Gene wasn't anywhere near being sexually interested far as he could
tell, but then what did that matter, he was still a kid.

	But Ben knew he had undeniable feelings towards the boy, nurturing
feelings that he currently expressed as needing to feed him. Sexually Gene
was river of testosterone and Ben could almost feel the naughty little boy
beneath his semi-adult exterior. Ben would have bet the boy rubbed himself
off at least several times a day, but why was he thinking about that?

      What was the source of these feelings towards Gene? Was he mentally
reverting to childish behavior patterns in an attempt to understand and
identify with the boy? Making a comparison of their two distinct childhoods
was exceptionally bad form, besides, they were nothing alike. Was this
mental masturbation necessary to his understanding of the kid?

      Gene had stopped eating and was staring at him again...oops, Ben had
been spacing out.

      "What?" Gene said. A funny little laugh escaping his lips.

      "Huh...oh. You ever watch too many movies in a row? My brain was just
scanning the files in my head. Sometimes I just get too many things going
at once and they all run together. Maybe I need a vacation, sorry."

      "No, I understand perfectly," Gene said. "I get like that
sometimes. Like if I see too many football games at one time my head can't
remember just who did what and when. Then if I try and tell someone about
it the whole thing comes out wrong. I like to watch sports and remember the
stats, but there are just too many teams to follow all at once, but I like
to try anyway."

      It was the most concerted effort Gene had made to explain something
important about himself, but better yet, he was trying to relate. It was as
if he had opened a window and allowed Ben a glimpse into his world.

      With breakfast over, they walked back over to the courthouse and went
through the security scanner. There was nothing in Gene's pockets, not even
a wallet. Ben took him into the courtroom and sat him on a bench towards
the front amidst the crowd. Court wasn't even in session, the bench was
still empty.

      "The judge will be along in a few minutes," Ben told him. "You just
sit tight until I come get you, ok?"

      "Yeah, will we be here long?"

      "No, you won't have to face the judge today."

      Ben pushed through the gate and approached Alan Grainger, one of the
two prosecutors. He waited for them to finish sorting out the docket.

      "Alan, got a sec?"

      "Sure, Ben. Have you got a client up today?"

      "Yes, Eugene Carr. I need to gain a continuance until I evaluate
him."

      "Yes...Carr....here it is." Alan removed a document from the pile and
opened the envelope. He scanned the papers and nodded.

      "No bail, no problemo. Um....how's the twenty-second of next month
sound?"

      "Good, plenty of time to do a preliminary. Is that in front of Judge
Malcolm?"

      "Yup, bet you like that....we aim to please," Alan said.

      "Thanks, buddy," Ben said with a pat on his shoulder.

      Alan was one of the good guys, and if he ever got tired of
prosecutorial work Ben would take him into the business in a heartbeat.

      He went back to where Gene sat and gave him a nod. "That's it. We can
leave now," Ben said.

      Gene looked up and the expression on his face spoke volumes, he
wanted out of here. This was the easy part, next month he would have to
stand in front of the judge with only a public defender by his side. But by
then Ben's report would be on the bench in front of Malcolm's nose. He
would be a good judge for this case, well known as a fair man. He had also
been Ben's grandfather's law partner before his appointment to the bench.

      Gene followed him out of the courthouse, dogging Ben's heels, anxious
about what was coming next.

      "Mr. Bradshaw....is that it? I mean for today?" Gene asked.

      "Yes, I fixed it with the court. Your case is continued until the
twenty-second of next month. Hey, that?s right before Thanksgiving...that
will work in our favor. The court will be closed the following day."

      "Ok...what do we do now?" Gene asked.

      "You want to go home?" Ben thought about that and realized the boy
probably didn't have a ride. "Oh, you'd need a ride....did you make any
arrangements to get home?"

      "Uh, I could call my Mom, I guess."

      "Come on then, you can use my cell phone, it's in the car."

      They walked down the sidewalk towards the rear of the courthouse. It
was still a rather warm day and one of the things Ben liked about living
here was the mild fall weather. He removed his suit coat and tossed it over
his shoulder, loosing the tie as well.

      "You hunt, Gene?" Ben asked.

      "Yeah, but not in the last few years. Momma won't allow any guns in
the house since Daddy left."

      "You hunted with your father?"

      "Yup, got my first deer when I was twelve, but I like goin after
turkey much better."

      "And why's that?"

      "Much easier to carry back to the truck. I damn near killed myself
trying to bring my first deer home."

      Ben laughed at the logic but the kid was right. At least he'd had two
friends help him bring home that first kill.

      "You got brothers and sisters? I'm sorry; guess I don't know that
much about your family."

      "I got an older sister. She's been married a few years and lives in
Virginia. And then there's Dean, but he don't live at home anymore."

      "Gene and Dean...do you still see your brother?" Ben asked.

      "Yup...he's my twin."

      Ben almost tripped over the curb when Gene said that. Twins...oh
my. That brought a whole new dynamic into the picture of the boy here. The
fact that there could be two cute young men instead of just one was only
the first possibility that crossed his mind.

      "Identical twins?" Ben asked.

      "Yup...well except he isn't tall as me, but he's got more
muscles. Dean is a real jock at school."

      Ben stopped dead in his tracks amidst a sea of cars in the vast
parking lot.

      "Let me get this straight," he said, turning to face the boy. "Dean
goes to your school but he doesn't live with you?"

      Gene looked uncomfortable all of a sudden. "Uh yeah...he's in
eleventh grade, but I flunked one year so I'm still in tenth....and he
lives with his wrestling coach."

      "His coach? Not your father?" Ben said.

      "Yeah," Gene replied. "Which car is yours?"

      Ben turned back and slid between a mini-van and an Escalade. He
didn't want to end this particular train of thought in their conversation
but Gene had changed the subject for some reason. Fascinating, there was
something more to this, he could just feel it. But then they came to his
car parked against the far wall.

      "This is your car?" Gene almost yelled. "Wow...it's awesome."

      Ben understood the feeling. For years he had always wanted a Corvette
and just last summer had made the commitment. It helped that business was
good; these things were not cheap by any means. Not that he always bought
American cars, but who could resist when they were midnight black with a
red leather interior.

      "You like?" Ben asked, already knowing the answer.

      "You bet, these things are sweet."

      "I thought so too when I had to pay for it."

      He clicked the key fob, shutting down the alarm system and she
squawked at them twice. Gene smiled in appreciation. Ben opened the door
and retrieved his cell phone from the center console. He noticed as Gene
carefully opened the passenger door and then shut it quietly, squirming
into the leather seats. They had never been this close before. Ben knew
there was a good reason for wanting this car, it was cozy.

      Gene took the offered phone and dialed a number. After a moment the
look on his face went from happy to sad.

      "She's got the phone off....I got the answering service, damn."

      "That's ok...do you need to be home right away?" Ben asked.

      "Not really. You want to give me a ride home?"

      "I can, but I have to stop at the office first. If you don't mind, I
think we should have a little talk and then get some lunch before I take
you home. Is that all right with you?"

      Gene grinned. "That would be great. I really appreciate this
Mr. Bradshaw. I'm sorry, but my mom is a real....um..."

      "Don't," Ben said, holding up a hand to silence the boy. "I'm sorry
she isn't up to the task of taking care of you like she should. Being a
good parent is difficult at the best of times."

      "You have kids?" Gene asked.

      "No...I've never been married."

      That stopped the boy's questions for the moment and the silence
called for action so Ben started the car. Gene was quickly distracted by
the sound and feel of a performance machine. The only thing better than the
feel of driving a Vette would probably be an orgasm, Ben thought.

      "Put your seatbelt on," he advised, moving the car only after they
were both safely belted in.

      Ok, I was feeling sorry for myself, Ben thought. He had been at the
beach only two months before and seen some hot young guys there, college
guys. But Ben was thirty now, too old for that twenty something bunch he
guessed. And then there were the suave gentlemen sitting at the
bar. Unfortunately Ben knew he would be one of them someday.

      They smiled at him until Ben realized in horror that they were
looking right through him and at the college boys standing against the
wall. Was that his fate in ten years....twenty years? No, he couldn't let
that happen. So where was love going to come from?

      This little neck of the woods had no gay scene, nada...zero. They had
coffee shops and bars of the straight kind, but nothing even remotely gay
ever happened here. It was pathetic because Ben knew there were gay student
organizations at the high school and college level.

	Where were these guys after they graduated, did they all flee the
state? He felt practically invisible, and thus the Corvette was
compensation. At least he still had his manhood. Oh God, a real shrink
would have a field day with that one.

      He drove down Third and across Church Street towards the shopping
district. Gene stared out the windows like a puppy enjoying every minute of
the ride. Ben wouldn't have been surprised if the boy had an
erection....well maybe he did, but there was no way he was going to check
that out.

      Ben took the interstate ramp at a good clip, punching it up to speed
and sliding into traffic with ease. Gene was almost drooling at this point
so he slid the Creed CD into the disk player to finish the kid off. The
hard throbbing bass lines and guitar of 'Higher' blasted from the speakers
and set Gene off. He slammed his hands down on his knees in time with the
music.

      Ben was watching the road carefully but could tell Gene was looking
at him...and he felt thrilled.