Date: Thu, 20 Jul 2006 05:18:07 -0700 (PDT)
From: Joseph Smith <gaymormonwriter@yahoo.com>
Subject: Love and Death in Venice Chapter Two

I spent the entire day at work nervously excited, wondering how Chase and I
would interact. The knock on the door told me he was here. I opened the
door and was stunned to see him. Chase was thinner, and his eyes looked
incredibly sad but happy to see me. We didn't touch each other, not a
handshake, not even a hug.  I found some comfort in keeping my distance
from him.

We sat on opposite ends of my overstuffed couch. I watched him and he was
watching me.

"How are you, Chase?"

"I'm doing alright. The meds make me crazy sometimes."

"I see."

I was still on only one anti-depressant; I couldn't imagine being on three.

"You said you were coming here from a doctor's appointment?"

"Yeah, one of my shrinks."

"Are they helping you?"

"Not really."

I was looking at Chase in a whole new way. I knew in my heart he was gay. I
had observed him enough to know that this just wasn't a phase. I watched
his eyes.

"How long do you expect to see your therapists?"

"Until my father decides he doesn't want to spend the money anymore."

"Aren't you working?"

"Yeah, and going to school."

"I thought you were going to go to seminary school?"

"I don't know yet if that will happen."

"Do you still want to?"

"Oh, yes."

I wanted so much to take him in my arms and hold him; sooth away the pain I
could see on his face. I wanted to see the happy, confident Chase that
worked for me two years ago. That Chase wasn't here. I realized with sorrow
that his spirit had been broken.

"Chase; how's your mother?"

"She's fine."

"Has your relationship improved with her?"

He closed his eyes and shook his head.

"She has been very angry with me. It's been nearly a year and she still
barely talks to me."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I can only imagine what it's like for her. She has
been raised to think that homosexuality is wrong.  You know the Bible
states it quite a few times. In her mind, even in her heart, she must be
struggling about you."

"I'm her son. It shouldn't matter."

"It does, Chase. It really does."

I could see the anger seething quietly below the surface. His mother was
the sweetest person you could ever meet and yet here, I could see that her
rejection of him had taken its toll on Chase.

When my parents found out that I had been playing with other guys, it was
nothing like this. I was fourteen. They sent me to a psychiatrist for
treatment. I loved to touch another guy. I lied about my intentions, and
told the doctor and my parents that I was forced to do things. I was so
much into denial; I cared too much about what they thought. I paid the
consequences at school, since my reputation with guys had spread and every
word was thrown at me that hurts; faggot, queer and homo.

My parents were as religious as Chase's were. Although I wasn't as
religious as Chase was, I could see that his internal struggle was tearing
him apart.

"Have you thought about hurting yourself?"

I had read where teens could be suicidal when faced with these kinds of
things. I had been.

Chase looked at me, a single tear appeared in his right eye. I had my
answer.

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

He wiped the tear away and said, "My Dad has a collection of shot guns in
the house for hunting. He caught me with one in my room."

"What do you mean he caught you?"

"I had it positioned at my chest," he said, without the least bit of
emotion.

"Chase, I'm sorry," I said. "Do you still think about that?" "Sometimes."

"Promise me that when you have feelings like that again, you will call me."

Chase nodded his head. His eyes revealed just how hard all of this was on
him.

"I need to go," he said, looking at his watch.

We stood and I asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I am."

As I lead him to the front door, neither of us made a move towards the
other.

"Do you still have your ring?" he asked, looking up at me.

When Chase worked for me at the Cinema 6, he decided in his infinite wisdom
to give me a silver ring. A CTR ring, meaning "Choose The Right". It was a
Christian ring of encouragement.

"Yes, Chase. I do," I said. "It's in my collection box on my dresser. You
know it doesn't fit."

"I know."

"It still means something to me," I said.

"Good."

He had bought the ring too big without realizing it. It would fall off my
finger. But it was from Chase and that meant a lot to me.

We said "Goodnight" and I watched him climb down the stairs outside my
apartment and walk to his car.

All night I pondered Chase. When he walked away, it wasn't upright. His
shoulders fell slightly. I suspected that with the mix of his medication,
his depression and his situation at home, he was a defeated soul; lost and
without purpose.

In my work, I had become close to other young men, but it wasn't often. It
seemed like about every eight years I would meet someone and a casual
relationship would develop into a friendship, though not a serious one. In
1973, it was Mike in Indianapolis. In 1980, it was John in Kokomo. In 1988,
it was another John in Louisville. In 1996, it was Chase. In 2004, it was
Jeff, who was still working for me.

I would stay in touch with these guys for years. I have lost contact with
Mike and John. The Louisville John worked with me couple of times, both
times as my assistant. We still call each other. I came out to him and he
was cool about it. He's happily married now with a son.

None of these friendships ever became this personal. I never saw any of
them in such a devastating light before. In spite of his depression I
sensed that Chase had decided that he could trust me. I wondered just how
far.

I still had mixed feelings about telling him about me. The timing was off
for now. I didn't want to complicate things.

In the weeks before I left Orlando, I had come out to my boss's gay
secretary. Dave was quite a character, and I liked him as a friend. He
promised to take me to all the gay clubs and bars and help educate me in
the gay lifestyle of Dallas. Up to this point, I had only had few
experiences with other men. After my first time in Texas, I only saw one
other guy before leaving for Florida. In the one year in Florida, I was
with only one guy, twice.

My experience was limited to mutual oral sex the whole time.

Dave had a favorite bar/club that he would take me too. He drank; I
didn't. There would be strip shows at this one and there was a young guy he
was really hot for. He told me that the `strippers' were sometimes straight
guys who would make extra money at this bar. When each guy stripped down to
his `g' string, he would cruise the crowd for conversation and tips.

The young guy that Dave liked the most came over to us one night. He and
Dave carried on a conversation while I put dollar bills into the `g' string
after feeling him up. Dave watched me. I put my hand inside the pouch and
felt the guy's hard cock. It was cut and long and I figured he would have
been very popular as a top if he were gay. This went on for about ten
minutes and about twenty dollars on my part. His cock felt good to touch.

When the conversation ended, the guy thanked me for the money and walked
away. Dave cussed me out. It was his guy and he should have been the one
with his hand on his cock. I was laughing at him, and asked why he didn't
join. He just raved for a while and then calmed down. He told me most of
the `strippers' were druggies and probably used Viagra to stay hard.

I took to learning about the "Gay World" like I did with movie theatres. I
watched and learned. Dave kept up the Friday night lessons for me at the
clubs until he moved to Austin, where he thought the gay life would be
better suited to him.

I found a bookstore in Dallas that carried gay themed books. I found a book
I had wanted to read for over twenty years. It was called "The Front
Runner."  I bought it and began to read and learn about the relationship
two men could have despite their age difference.

Chase continued his weekly visits with me. As we discussed his life, I
began to feel like a therapist.

I had been seeing my own therapist, a gay one for the first time. With this
one, I discovered many things about myself; that I had what I believed was
my first same sex attraction all the way back to the age of six. The object
of that first attraction was the young guy on the old TV series, "The
Rifleman". Johnny Crawford caught my eye, and all I could do was stare at
him on the old twelve inch black and white TV we had. I had no clue what
that meant until forty years later, but I remember wanting to see him
naked. It would be years later, when he did a movie called "The Naked Ape,"
that he appeared naked with a full frontal nude. It was so hot.

During therapy, I discovered that I had probably been suffering from
depression most of my life. I began to see things more clearly about my
life prior to my marriage. I talked about my father, and how he made me
feel inadequate and unwanted. My father's actions molded me to
self-doubt. It affected my personal and professional life. I was paranoid
in most of my job settings.  When I was married to Karen, I came out of
that, or at least got a handle on it.

My sessions included my continued grief over Karen and my guilty feelings
about neglecting my son and not relieving his grief.

I even talked about Chase. He gave me suggestions on how to help as a
friend would.

The week before his nineteenth birthday we met as we had been doing.  He
still didn't look like he was eating right. I didn't think the meds or the
therapy were working. Not being a professional, I treaded very lightly.

This night he didn't seem any different to me.

"How was your week?"

"It was alright. I worked and went to school."

I looked at him and couldn't help how I was feeling towards him.

"What do you really want to do?" I asked.

Chase looked away, towards the blank screen on the television set.

"I want to go to seminary, get married and have a family."

"Do you think that's possible?"

"I do," he said, not taking eyes away from the TV.

"Chase, there's a chance that this `phase' may not be just a phase. If you
get married and you get the craving again, someone's going to get hurt."

Turning to me, his eyes bearing down on me, he said, "I can control this."

"Have you stopped?"

"No."

"Chase," I said, nearly pleading with him. "Do you really think, in your
heart, that you can stop?"

"I can and will. I have faith."

"Have you even tried it with a girl?"

"Not really. You know I dated some when I worked for you and all I ever did
was kiss and make out."

"Did it do anything for you?"

"In what way?"

I looked at him. I knew he wasn't dense.

"Chase, did you have a physical reaction?"

"Oh," he said. "You mean did I get hard? No."

"If you get married, are you going to tell your wife of your sexual
history?"

"No."

"She has a right to know."

"She doesn't need to know."

I began to realize that even he didn't believe what he was saying. But I
did suspect he was saying these things to help convince himself.

"It's late. I need to go," he said, ending our conversations the usual way.

We stood up and I faced him. "You're manipulating your therapists, aren't
you?"

Without hesitation he said, "Yes."

"Your parents?"

"Yes."

"Keeping your denial going just keeps everyone at a distance from you; a
safe distance."

Chase just looked at me with questions on his face that he wouldn't ask. I
wanted to take him in my arms and just hold him, but instead I watched him
decide not to say anymore.

We said our goodbyes and agreed to meet the next week as usual.  Again I
watched him walk to his car. His movements seemed even slower this time.

During the following week, I finished "The Front Runner". Reading the final
chapter on Monday, I was so torn by the story's conclusion. The effect on
me was incredible. When I got home the next day, Chase met me at my car.  I
told him I wasn't feeling well and asked him to wait until next week to
meet again. He agreed without comment.

Chase had his birthday and the next Sunday morning he called me.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Sleeping," I said.

"What are you going to do today?" he asked, knowing I was off on Sundays.

"I don't know yet; hadn't thought about it."

"Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah, I am."

"Good."

"Chase?"

"Yeah?"

"I have something I need to tell you."

"Okay."

After nearly nine months, the time had come. Reading the book convinced me
that I needed to tell him.

"Chase, I'm gay."

"I knew it. I knew it," he burst out, with much satisfaction and excitement
in his voice.

I figured we had a lot to talk about.

"Can I come over?"

"Yeah."

We hung up and I went and took a shower. I had mixed emotions, but I felt
relieved that I finally told him. I was anxious and nervous. I dressed and
went to the kitchen to clean it up. There was a knock on the door and I
went and opened it. It was Chase, so I left the door open and went back
into the kitchen. He went into the dining room and stood where I could see
him through the pass through window. Neither of us said anything at first.

There we were, two friends, waiting, having exposed our selves to each
other in ways that most people could never understand, knowing in our
hearts that the next words or actions could alter our friendship forever.

I turned to him and said, "Is this relationship going to turn sexual?"

Without missing a beat he said, "That's up to you."

Within seconds I approached and said, "Yes."

Our arms embraced our bodies.  Our mouths locked on to each other.  I
sensed immediately that he was more experienced with other guys than I
was. I didn't even think about the time passing when I making out with him,
and all I knew was I liked it. . I had always believed that this was what
he had always wanted from me.  Chase backed off and said, "I don't like
kissing that much."

"I don't believe it, not the way you're kissing me," I said putting my
mouth back on his.

I felt his hand move down me and feel my hardness through my slacks. I took
that as permission and did the same with him. The feel told me he was
nicely sized, bigger than me.

Chase unbuttoned his pants and pulled his zipper down slightly. I moved my
hand inside his pants.

"I don't think I can do this," he said, backing away from me.

"No way; you've wanted this for too long," I said, and grabbed his hand and
led him to my bedroom.

When we started taking off our clothes, I told him to leave his underwear
on. He lay down on the bed and I started to explore his body with my
hands. I looked him over, enjoying the experience of touching and caressing
him. His body was covered lightly with hair, from his chest down to a rich
crop of pubic hair that I could see above the waistband of his
underwear. The hair on his legs was thick.

I grazed over his underwear, feeling his hardness. I slipped them off and
placed my hand on him. He measured barely seven inches, cut with low
hanging testicles. I envied the man he was. I stroked him and then started
to lick him from his sack to the crown. When I took him in my mouth, he
moaned and sighed.

I lay down next to him to kiss him. He then took my underwear off and
grabbed my hardness, lightly stroking me.

Looking up at me, he said, "You're bigger then most guys your size."

Then he took me in his mouth and sucked me briefly. He moved up over me and
laid his cock on mine and he began to grind. I had never had this done
before. It was amazing, the intimacy I felt with him.  Our mouths were back
to each other and for the first time in a long while I felt loved.

"If you keep this up, I'm going to cum," I told him.

We got into a sixty-nine position with him over me. Since his cock was so
big for me to handle in that position, breathing was difficult. I worked on
sucking his balls and running my finger up his perineum to his rectum. I
looked over his hole with much curiosity. I had never been in a position
before to do so. I ran a finger over the hole and even tried to enter it.

"It would help with some lube," he said.

I immediately backed off, not knowing what to do. I pushed us on our sides
and proceeded to suck his cock while he worked on mine. It wasn't long
before I reached my climax. Chase didn't cum. He assured me that it
happened sometimes because of his medications. We cuddled up on the bed,
just being close.

"Promise me that this isn't all we do from now on," he said. Those words
spoke volumes to me about what his intentions were. I thought he wanted to
be with me, in a relationship.

"No way," I said. "It will only be a part of it. Are you hungry yet?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, let's go to Planet Hollywood. I'm buying."

"Okay."

We showered together, got dressed and went to dinner. The conversation was
pretty one-sided. Chase was quiet. Too quiet.


The end of Chapter 2