Date: Fri,  7 Jan 2005 18:52:42 -0800
From: malou2003@hushmail.com
Subject: Malcolm Chapter 21

Be advised that in the following one will find graphic sexual depiction
between minors and minors and adults. The story is fiction but based on
real characters, events, places and situations. There is no relationship
between the names used and that of any real person.

Send comments to malou2003@hushmail.com.

Michael Peterson

MALCOLM

CHAPTER 21

	As June wrapped up, temperatures in the ward increased along with
the ever simmering anger at my father for putting me in the terrible
place. Windows were opened and ceiling fans turned on. I would have liked
to switch my workouts to mid morning but that's when we showered three
times a week. So I just wiped the sweat out of my eyes and made a mess on
the floor. As the heat increased, Klaus became less and less enthused about
exercising. He stopped entirely the stamina routines and just did those
strength exercises which built his more prominent muscles. My short term
goal was preparation for an escape attempt. Long term continued to be the
destruction of my father even if it meant my own. After all, I figured, as
long as he was alive, my life would be hell.

      My life there at the hospital was made a bit more bearable for a
short time once or twice a week when Klaus pushed that big cock of his up
my ass.

      But, the enjoyment was purely skin deep. I knew his friendship was
one of convenience, based on the physical enjoyment he got out of my
body. Even the few times Jonathan and I were able to get it on, there was
no spiritual side to his passion. Once he got off, he'd do me too but
hardly with the same gusto in arriving at his own climax. Freddy, Martin,
Philip, Bobby, so many others and I genuinely enjoyed each other, in some
cases loved one other as much as if not more than the physical union..

      Klaus and Jonathan were brief respites from the misery of being
trapped in that Nazi run den of torture. I felt certain I would eventually
find a way to get out. Then, my father would be stopped, permanently.

	Still, there were nights when my need for Freddy's companionship
prevented sleep, brought me close to tears.

	Back to that respite, the rising temperatures also affected the
sex. One night, it got so warm, some of the Vaseline dripped along with the
sweat onto the pillow under my crotch, creating a smell we had no idea how
to remove. Klaus' solution was to switch mine with that of a boy on the far
side of the ward when most went outside the next afternoon. No one ever
said anything nor did anyone seem to be hauled off to the chair due to it.

	The room with the chair had a single window which was closed during
sessions there. The sweat on my body made each jolt far more potent and
painful than it had been before. After the second hit the next to last
Thursday in June, then regularly given with the ankle electrodes attached,
I was in tears begging the doctor not to do it again. The last shock
knocked me cold.

	That Sunday, somewhat out of desperation, I finalized my plans for
escape. Certain factors made for potential success. First, the Catholic
chapel was open all the time. Not even the sacristy door had a
lock. Second, the infirmary entry was only about thirty feet down the hall
although in the wrong direction. The building entry door was the other
way. I confirmed that the main door was never locked much before nine at
night. There were several indicators. The ward attendants switched off the
lights at eight each night. Klaus spoke of walking out to the parking lot
with Mr. Coulter to receive some comic books out of his car.

	`They let Mr. Coulter have a key to the building?' I asked.

	`Oh no,' answered Klaus, `I think only the night nurse and Dr. Hein
have keys. All the patients are locked in their wards so?' He shrugged his
shoulders.

      I smirked and asked him to let me see his new comic books in hopes
that he'd quickly forget that I was curious about that front door.

      In addition, those times when I'd been taken to Dr. Hein's or
Dr. Cooper's offices, I'd often enough seen people coming and going through
the unlocked, unattended doors.

     	Time and again, I mentally practiced the moves that would get my
escape underway. Feeling prepared, all I needed to do then was wait until
my next, and hopefully last, session in the chair.

	Much as I wanted to tell Jonathan my plans, say goodbye, and
promise to try and free him from the outside, I couldn't take the risk. We
were watched much too closely during the day. How he reacted to my planned
dramatics was critical to their success. And, in the final analysis, I
wasn't sure how loyal he'd be if he saw a personal advantage to turning me
in. As I said, his friendship, though certainly more real than that of
Klaus, was also one of convenience. Were the two of us on the outside and
in contact with one another, classmates, for example, we probably wouldn't
be more than acquaintances. His horniness might have brought us together
physically but that would have been that. Jonathan's haughtiness was very
close to that of Herbert Reisin who never had a close friend among his
classmates.

	I had a talk session with Dr. Coopers on Tuesday the
twenty-eighth. He gave me some tests including the old inkblot I'd learned
to manipulate years before. I was sure to keep my wrist limp, my voice
soft, slightly womanly and to answer with vagaries.

	Whether it changed anything or not I'll never know but shortly
after lunch on Thursday, June thirtieth, I was hauled off to the room and
strapped in. Step one was to piss off Dr. Hein.

	`Why are you doing this to me?' I insisted angrily.

	`It iss for your own goot, Malcolm. Now, just be calm.'

	`Fuck you you Nazi son-of-a-bitch!'

	There was no response. The projector came on. A picture was
introduced. Normally, it would have been a naked girl displaying her
wares. This time, it was a re-run of one older teen sucking another. I
braced myself. It felt like my flesh was being pushed in and ripped off at
the same time. Every joint in my body seemed to be trying to dislocate
itself. My insides felt like they were turned into a ton of concrete.

	A voice at my ear hissed, `Don't you ever use zat wort again.'

	The slide changed to the young lady. I knew it was her from the
outline which was all I could see. My mind was trying to remember something
I was supposed to do but couldn't locate it. Then it did.

	`Fuuuck, you, Naaa...' My body couldn't produce any more sounds
than that, or was too frightened to.

	The doctor, who would normally have been talking about how nice it
would be to feel the girl's breasts or stick my dick in her cunt, was
silent. I worried I'd overplayed my hand. There had to be at least one more
good hit.

	The only sound in the room was the whir of the projector's cooling
fan. Seconds crept by. Had the doctor figured out what I was up to' I'd
been careful not to give any indication that escape was in any way on my
mind. I was even teaching Klaus reading and writing.

	Then, `Malcolm, vy von't you cooperate wis me? Don't you vant to be
normal? You are not going to leave here until ve accomplish zat. You must
consider zat.'

	He walked out of the room. The attendant followed him then returned
to release me. I had no trouble staggering as planned back to the ward,
requiring the attendant's help to stay up. The day's single jolt easily
equaled the two worst before it.

	As I was helped up the stairs, Klaus, accompanied by Dr. Hein's
secretary, was on his way down. He didn't look at me. I only realized it
had been him after he'd gone by.

	Klaus wasn't back by dinner time. I couldn't see the parking lot
from our ward so had no idea if Dr. Hein had left at five as he usually
did. Had my Nazi remark come crashing down on Klaus' I was furious with
myself for using it. Already, my plan was showing flaws. I debated
aborting, waiting for another opportunity but worried about what Klaus was
telling or had told the doctor. There was plenty he could say that would be
of concern to Dr. Hein, for instance, my question about the entry
doors. Worse, if the doctor thought I knew more than I should and might
spread it among the others on the ward, how would he react' Would he lock
me back in a room' That would be a disaster. The plan had to go ahead.

	I ate dinner with Jonathan, all the while complaining about a
headache I didn't really have then how the food wasn't settling well in my
stomach. I went to my bed. While waiting for the sun to rest on the
horizon, I stuffed cardboard cutouts into the bottoms of my slippers. The
next step was the one that I worried would be the most difficult to
perform. I needed to throw up dinner. Leaning over the bed, I stuck my
finger into my mouth and touched my epiglottis. I gagged and involuntarily
yanked my finger out. More control was needed. I tried it fast, jamming two
fingers hard at the back of my throat then leaning on my arm to keep them
there. It worked. A nasty load of partially digested chicken stew gushed
out and onto the floor. I stood, the mess dribbling down my chin, and
headed unsteadily toward the bathroom.

	The part I'd practiced mentally so many times was next. I weaved to
my right and stumbled over a bed, falling forward, bouncing off the
backboard, falling down, hitting my head first on the backboard, then the
floor. It was more dramatic than had been planned, the result of completely
relaxing my body, letting it fall where it would after initially launching
it forward. The headache and pain in my back were then quite real but I had
to maintain my face completely calm, as though unconscious.

	There were concerned voices, Jonathan's, surprisingly to me, the
most worried among them. Another called Mr. Schulz. Hands touched me,
lifted me onto the bed. I heard the gate open and close. Then Mr. Schulz
asked, `What happened to him.'

	`He just fell,' answered one.

	`He upchucked all over,' said the normally taciturn teen whose bed
was beside mine.

	`Call the doctor,' insisted Jonathan.

	`Don't touch him,' ordered Mr. Schulz.

	The worried and curious murmurs continued. Jonathan sat beside me
and told someone, `It was the food.'

	Moments later, a couple of male attendants put me on a stretcher
and carried me out. The voices receded after the ward gate then the main
ward door were closed. The men almost dumped me down the stairs but the one
at the back grabbed my legs and told the other, `Christ, Matt! Slow down a
little.'

	I was taken to the infirmary and put on a bed. Someone walked in
and asked, `What's wrong with him?' It was a woman. I stayed as calm as I
could.

	`Sounds like food poisoning to me,' answered the one who wasn't
Matt.

	`They said he fainted or something and banged his head good,' said
Matt.

	`Any more sick?'

	`I didn't see none.'

	`Well, go check.'

	A telephone was dialed. `Doctor Beam?'

	Silence.

	`This is Green Haven calling. I got a boy here looks to have food
poisoning.'

	Silence.

	`I can't. He's out cold. Fainted and fell on his head.'

	Silence.

	`Don't worry. He ain't goin' nowheres.'

	The telephone was hung up.

	The woman muttered, `Damn shitass cooks. Gonna kill us all.'

	Footsteps went out. The door was closed. I relaxed even more.

	The doctor didn't come for quite a while, forty-four minutes by the
infirmary wall clock. The woman looked in on me a couple of times. Once,
she put her head to my chest, probably to see if my heart was still beating
or she had a corpse to dispose of.

	I remembered his high pitched voice the moment the doctor
spoke. `So, whatta we have here?'

	`He still ain't woke yet.'

	I heard a metallic snapping then the sound of metal
paraphernalia. What must have been a stethoscope was pressed to my chest.

	`Well, he's alive. Got any smelling salts?'

	`Don't know.'

	`How about some amonia?'

	`I'm sure we got some a that. I'll go get some. Want some coffee?'

	`Do chickens cross the road? And I need something to eat that won't
kill me. Gonna miss dinner tonight. People always getting sick when it's
time to eat.'

	It was just like Klaus and another boy had said. A kid could be
bleeding to death but the doctor always needed his coffee before he got
started.

	Their footsteps went out the door and down the hall. The kitchen
was a couple of minutes away. Water probably had to be heated.

	 I jumped off the bed and went to the door, pressing my ear to the
crack by the frame to listen for others in the hall. There wasn't a sound.

	I carefully stuck my face out the door. All clear. I dashed quietly
down the hall and into the chapel. Inside the sacristy closet, the adult
length black cassock I needed was the one in the middle. I'd put it there
Sunday morning and hidden in it the black painted cardboard designed to go
over and disguise my slippers as shoes, at least to those who weren't too
close.

	After checking the chapel, then the hall, I raced on tip toes
toward the entry door. Just as I was nearing the entry hallway, I heard the
door open. I turned and rushed back past the chapel to the infirmary where
I quickly took off the cassock and pushed it under the bed. I dropped back
onto the mattress, desperately trying to remember exactly how I'd been
lying there.

	Steps echoed down the hall and up the stairs. As soon as they hit
the turn, I was back up, yanking the cassock and shoe covers out. After
listening again at the door, I sneaked out and down to the door. I peered
around the corner through the glass door and into the well lit drive out
front. Seeing no one, I darted to the door and out. The area in front of
the building was empty and quiet.

	I'd had the impression the parking lot was off to the right since
I'd seen people coming to the door from that direction. It was, but past
the end of the building. At least there were only two lights there. I
pulled the cassock around me and walked out, knowing I was then in full
view of the windows of at least two wards.

	I was counting on the doctor having an MD sticker or plate on the
back of his car. He did, on the rear bumper of a green forty-nine Ford. I
walked to the driver's door. It was unlocked as I'd been sure it would
be. I climbed inside then, after a few moments to check if anyone was
watching, crawled over the back of the seat and flattened myself on the
floor, careful to push the cassock over my nearly white slippers and pull
the other end over my head.

	At that point, all I could do was wait.

      Time dragged like thick catsup out of a narrow necked bottle. It
could have been ten minutes or half an hour before I heard feet running
then voices shouting. Silence followed.

	 Some time later, there were footsteps on the asphalt of the
parking lot. This was what I feared most. They were checking the cars. I
held my breath. Someone walked quickly then stopped time and again, from
place to place, gradually approaching the doctor's car. The vehicle moved
slightly as someone apparently leaned against it. There was silence for the
longest time, then a nearby voice called out, `Mr. Schulz, Mr. Schulz.'

	A voice anwered from the distance.

	`Not out here.'

	`...the woods,' was all I caught from Mr. Schulz.

	The doctor came moments later, tossed his bag over me into the
back, and climbed in. He put in the key and started the car up. It stalled
as he tried to move. He cranked it over again. It started. He ran the
engine a few moments. It didn't sound well tuned. When he finally drove. I
could clearly hear the sound of the road beneath us through the floor under
my ear. It didn't sound like he was driving very fast.

	Perhaps a half an hour later, the car turned onto what sounded like
gravel. The doctor parked and got out. I uncovered my face and looked
up. There was a modicum of light like that of a single street lamp. He was
parked in the lot of a small restaurant with windows across the front and a
handful of customers, most at the counter, two men at a window
booth. Apparently my escape had lost the doctor his free meal at the
hospital.

      I was in the middle of a small town. A man and woman were walking
away from me down a sidewalk in front of a closed store. In the other
direction, a single bicyclist pedaled my way. I ducked.

	When I looked again, I saw there was an alleyway beside the
restaurant.  My concern was the men at the window. One had his back pressed
against the glass. The other was facing across at him. I pushed the seat
forward and climbed around it into the front of the car, keeping my eye on
the man facing his friend. The driver's door was away from him, somewhat
out of his sight. I opened it, stepped out and crouched below window
height. I made sure the door was completely closed, put on the cassock,
then moved behind the car next to the doctor's and around to the other
side. The alleyway went behind the restaurant then continued on to the back
of a residential area. I stood and walked quickly, all the while watching
the man in the window out of the corner of my eye. That's when I saw the
pay phone on the wall by the door. I ran into the alley, watching for a
place to hide until everyone left.

	At the back of the restaurant was an open area, graveled, probably
for deliveries and trash removal. A tall hedge bordered the lot on the far
side from the restaurant. It seemed as good a place as any. I slipped
behind the bushes and squatted. That's when I heard the sniffing. It was a
dog behind the picket fence at my back. He began to bark.

	To get away through the houses, I'd have to run along the side of
the same yard with the dog. Someone certainly would have looked. The safer
direction was back toward the front of the restaurant. The barking
continued after I reached the parking lot. I realized how ridiculous I
would look to anyone who saw me draped in that oversized black cassock. In
planning my getaway, I'd made the assumption the doctor would go to his
house. And, I hadn't considered barking dogs. The plan was starting to look
fatally flawed. I wished I'd just taken off into the woods, using the
stamina I had built up over the past years, an asset my pursuers certainly
wouldn't have.

	No one was on the street to my right where the bicyclist had been
moments before. I scurried down the sidewalk looking for another street,
some bushes, anywhere to hide. Though not brightly, the street was lit well
enough for someone to easily see even black covered me trotting along. The
streetlights went on for several blocks. There would be fields or woods at
the end, but a lot of potential observers who knew of the reward for
hospital escapees, and plenty of dogs.

	There was an empty trashcan, but I knew I wouldn't fit. Worse, the
owner might come to take it inside.

	A cross street went left and right. There was a combination of
houses and small businesses either way. It was anybody's guess which had
fewer dogs. I went right. Two young men or teens in T shirts walked about
fifty yards ahead of me. I reversed direction, immediately noticing a
pickup parked with its nose against the porch of a clapboard house, the
high brick wall of a main street store along its side. There were lights on
inside the house. I almost got into the back but opted to crawl between the
wall and the truck instead, then under it. I hoped they weren't going out
anymore that night.

	The mosquitoes were on me immediately, as though they'd been
waiting. I covered up quickly with the cassock but they managed to get in
to my ankles. Pulling the cassock tightly only allowed them to attack my
arm through the fabric. I curled up and covered myself more loosely. That
seemed to work.

	Moments later, something crawled under me and noisily over the
cardboard covering my slipper. I wiggled and it scooted off. Crickets were
making a racket. I hoped they wouldn't crawl in too. Big bugs scared the
crap out of me.

	A few cars went by, one sounding about to give up the ghost. I
wondered where the hospital staff was searching for me. Had they figured
the possibility of me using the doctor's car for my escape and come into
this town' Had Dr. Hein been notified' Did it let Klaus off the hook' How
late would I have to wait before I could sneak out to make the call to
Bobby' I needed to give him a place where I could easily be found. That had
to be located first but would require some walking around. I knew the
town's name but nothing more. My original, now very flawed plan, had me in
a more rural area with fields and forest, not in the middle of a
town. Since it was unlikely Bobby could get to me before daylight, I was
going to need a safe place to hide out until the following nightfall.

 	I guessed it was around midnight when I dared to move out from
beside the pickup. Everything was dark and quiet. I'd decided to call Bobby
immediately so he could arrange a car then call back the next night with a
location. Holding the cassock up off the sidewalk, I went to the corner and
strained to see any sign that someone was waiting for me to appear.

	Seeing no one, I walked quickly to the darkened restaurant. I
lifted the receiver and dialed zero. The phone rang and rang. No one
answered. I pressed down the lever and dialed again. After eleven rings, a
tired voice answered, `Operator'.

	Trying to sound as mature as possible, I gave her Bobby's city and
phone number, `Collect, please from Martin O'Malley'. I figured he'd take
it, might even figure it was me.

	She dialed. Again it took a while for an answer. It was Bobby,
sounding only partially awake. After a moment, he accepted the charges.

	`Bobby?'

	`Jesus! M,artin!' He'd almost said my name. `Where are you?'

	I gave him the name of the town. `I don't know the name of the
highway going through here. I'm in the middle of the town. Wait a
minute. Operator?' There was no response.

	Bobby said, `Just tell me where you are and?'

	`I was just checking to see if she was listening. I need someone to
come get me. See if you can?'

	`Oh, my God. I am so glad you're okay. You have no idea what we
were thinking. Okay, let me think. A, wait, how far away is that?'

	`I think it's eighty or ninety miles from the city but I'm not
sure. You'll have to look on a map.'

	`Wait, don't hang up. I've got one here somewhere. Wait.'

	He was off the line for a perhaps a minute then, `I've got
it. Jesus, it's far. Oh, who can I call right now?'

	`I can hide until tomorrow night.'

	`Unh uh. I've got an idea. Let's see, it's eleven fifty. This guy
you know, sort of, he's got a car. He's only a few blocks from
here. Exactly where are you right now?'

	`I'm in front of a restaurant, maybe the only one here. It's on the
main street. You think you can get here tonight?'

	`If I have to I'll drive myself!'

	I gave him as detailed a description as I could of where the pickup
up I'd be hiding behind would be. Bobby expected to arrive in two and a
half to three hours. I told him that if it was after four thirty, he should
wait until the following night as I'd need to get out of town and hide
during the day. Although I tried to reassure him the next night was fine,
getting picked up in a matter of hours was wonderfully appealing. Just
thinking about it brought tears to my eyes.

	`Be careful and stay hidden. I'll find you, don't worry.'

	I went back to the pickup and settled in.

	In less than half an hour, I was already listening for the sound of
a car. After a while, having completely lost track of time, I kept an eye
on the partially clouded sky, trying to calculate time based on how long it
took the appearing then disappearing stars to get from one place to
another. The increasing cloud cover shortly made that impossible. I worried
more and more that I needed to start moving, that dawn wasn't far away. I
didn't dare be anywhere near the town once people started to come out of
their houses.

      Though it seemed much longer, it was only two hours and fifty minutes
from my call until I heard the car turn slowly off the main street onto
mine. I crawled out to the end of the pickup and looked out. Bobby was in
the passenger seat, window open, looking straight at me. He opened the
door, jumped out and waved me to them. After a brief but fierce hug, he
pulled the seat forward and pushed me into the back.

	`On the floor,' he ordered.

	I didn't notice who was driving. He went around the block and
headed out of the town.

	`What is that thing you are wearing?'

	I told him. He laughed.

	`We thought maybe your father had killed you. Oh, God, Malcolm, I
am so happy you're okay. Were you locked up in some place?'

	`A mental hospital called Green Haven run by some Nazi. My father
put me there.'

      `Oh my God! What were they doing to you in that place?'

	I gave him an abbreviated version of what had happened and how I'd
escaped. He occasionally interjected invectives against my father.

	`We gotta get you a lawyer so he can fix it for you to stay with
your aunt or Aunt Martha.'

	`I don't think that's going to be possible.'

	 `Whatta ya mean! Look what he did. That's gotta be kidnapping or
something.'

	`No, he's my father. He can legally do what he did. And, right now,
I am legally a runaway. They can arrest me, not him.' In the back of my
mind was what I saw as the only solution to the dilemma, my father's
death. I figured I owed him at least that.

	`Crap, Malcolm, we'll figure something out. Right now, I'm so happy
you're with us again. I can't wait to see the look on Aunt Martha's face
when she sees you. She's been so worried about you. At first, she cried
almost every day. She's been so sad. She's gonna be so happy you can't
believe it. And Freddy, he's almost got himself busted. First, he called
your house a lot. Your mother wouldn't talk to him. Your father told him
not to call or he'd call the police. So, he went to your grandfather's
lawyer, the one who did the will and all. The lawyer called your father but
he wouldn't tell him anything. Told him it was none of his business. Well,
this is the same lawyer who was in on all the shit from that camp of yours
so he knows about your father's business like nobody else. That's still
going on. Freddy says the lawyer won't tell him anything except that he's
working on it. But now, who cares. You're back! Fuck, Malcolm! You're
back!'

	Bobby began singing, `You're back, you're back, fuck `em all' to a
tune he made up as he went along.

	I crawled up on the seat but stayed down, my legs hanging over the
side. My mind had shifted to Freddy. In a matter of hours he'd be in my
arms. First, there'd be Aunt Martha, more a mother to me than my natural
one.

	Since my father and mother were probably in Europe or someplace as
they always were that time of year, I figured I'd have a few days before
anyone knew where to look for me. There was no reason for the police or the
hospital staff to have any inkling of where I might hide. There was no
reason for them to know of Bobby's or Martin's though Freddy's information
and address could well be in their files. I could look forward to relaxing
for the holidays then try to find a better situation the following week. I
figured to call my father's house every now and then in case he came back
early because of my escape.

	Raindrops hit the windshield. The driver, who I had not yet seen,
turned on the wipers. Rain, I figured, would slow the search for me. Still,
I had to figure they'd be looking back in the city in the morning,
afternoon at the latest. Where would they look first' The most obvious
place would be Freddy's. Then someone would tell them about Martin's,
Bobby's. Damn, I thought, it would be stupid to stay very long at Bobby's.

	In all my plans, my goal had always been to go straight for my
father, finish him, kill the son-of-a-bitch. But, that was due to the
fantasies I used to keep myself from going nuts.

	Bobby broke up my thoughts when he climbed over the seat to sit
with me.

	`It's raining, we're plenty far from that shithole
hospital. C'mere.'

	He embraced me with more strength than I knew he had and held on
and on.

	`Oh, Malcolm, God how I missed you,' he said with a sob.

	We were silent for a while then I brought up the need for secrecy
and a hiding place plus, `I need to talk to that lawyer, see what he's
found out, what he's doing.'

	If it was possible to stop my father definitively without actually
murdering the son-of-a-bitch, then it might be possible to get my life back
on track.

	Bobby was thinking too. `If they come looking for you at my place,
they've gotta have a search warrant or something to get in the door. I
don't think they can get anything like that very quick. Anyhow, why are
they going to be looking so hard for you. You're sure as shit not very
dangerous. Your father will probably hire some detective again but, well, I
don't think they'll get to my place all that quick. They'll probably think
you're out there somewhere still. Is there any way they'll know you got a
ride in the doctor's car?'

	`I don't think so. I got out and no one saw me. The doctor sure
didn't and they looked in the car when it was still in the parking lot and
didn't see me. No, they gotta think I'm out in the woods somewhere.'

	Bobby hugged me again and whispered. `There is one thing, the guy
driving, well, I had to promise something to get him to do this. Maybe
he'll let you wait until tomorrow night.'

	`Shit, Bobby,' I said louder than would have been appropriate then
quickly realized giving this man a good fuck was certainly fair. I'd
happily given him twenty to get out of that place. `Don't worry, Bobby,
I'll give him the best fuck of his life. Hey, you think I could stay at his
place tomorrow night?'

	We decided to tell him I was too messed up right then but would
sleep with him the next night. Bobby reminded me who he was. It was the
freak who wanted all the play acting with Bobby. We told the guy I'd
prepare something he'd really love for the following evening. He thought it
was fine.

	Seeing the city lights ahead lifted my spirits even more. Driving
up to Bobby's house was like arriving at the pearly gates.

	Finally showered and in bed, Bobby asked a question I'd been sure
he would. I answered, `Yes, a few times.'

	`Damn, Malcolm. They could put you in some deep dungeon and you'd
get a guard to screw you and he'd love it.'

	Sleep came quickly.

	Bobby, already dressed and wearing his apron, awakened me after
only three hours in bed.  `Aunt Martha's gonna be here any minute. Get
dressed. You can go back to sleep after. She's gonna be so excited.'

	He gave me some of his clothes.

	I waited in the bedroom while she came in and went to the
kitchen. Bobby wanted to prepare her for the shock of seeing me. I'd
suggested I walk up behind her and surprise her but he was afraid she might
faint or have a heart attack or something.

	The door burst open and in she rushed. `Malcolm, my baby! Oh,
Malcolm!' She wrapped her arms around me. We cried together.

	She pushed out to arms' length. `Look what they done to you. You so
skinny and you so pale.' She pulled me back to her. `Oh lawd, you don' know
how worried we been. I been prayin' and prayin' and Jesus brought you
back.'

	When she finally calmed down, I told her about the same as I'd told
Bobby the previous night without dwelling on the anti-homosexual tilt of
the supposed treatment.

	`They gotta put that man in jail now after what he done to you, and
that awful doctor too, all of `em.'

	Bobby worked while we talked. Aunt Martha finally had to go to the
kitchen. I stayed in the bedroom so as not to show myself to the other
woman working there too. Sleep came and went a few times. I was debating
the advisability of trying to see if the lawyer could do something. Nothing
had ever really stopped my father before. I figured he hated me enough not
to make a rational response to the type of threat the lawyer could throw at
him. I was very much committed to do whatever was needed to stop him from
hurting me again even if that meant the ultimate solution.

      When Bobby came in to check on me at about eleven thirty, I convinced
him to call the lawyer and see if he could arrange for us to meet.

	The lawyer wasn't in but his secretary promised a call back when he
arrived.

	Freddy came from Edward's Supermarket for lunch. Bobby later told
me that, without any words between them, he knew from his mother's face
that I was there and asked, right in front of the other woman where I
was. At least he asked, `Where is he?' and didn't mention my name.

	When he opened the door, I was there waiting for him. His mother
closed it behind us. Freddy lifted me and carried me upright to the bed
where he pushed me down without changing his grip. Again, there were
tears. All Freddy said was, `Damn I missed you' then, `You okay?' I was
kissing him on the cheek and head.

	I sobbed, `I missed you more than anything. I tried not to think
about you too much because it was so hard not being with you. God, I missed
you. I love you so much.' Emotion prevented anything more for several
minutes.

	Freddy wanted to know everything. It took every one of the
forty-five minutes he had for lunch. His mother brought sandwiches about
ten minutes after Freddy had arrived. She told him to watch the clock as he
had to be back at work on time or someone would suspect something.

	Before he left, Freddy said, `You can't stay here. Maybe today, but
you gotta go tonight or tomorrow real early.'

      I told him with my father away, no one would know where to look.

      `Yeah, but you know they're gonna call him wherever he is and he'll
tell `em about here or Martin's. That hospital gonna have a telephone
number for him. You sure he went somewhere?'

      `He always does, every year. And now he thinks I'm locked up, so why
wouldn't he?'

      Freddy said he'd be back after six but needed to go home shortly
thereafter as that's what he normally did.

	Martin and Steve came in at two but weren't told anything. Bobby
wasn't concerned about Martin but Steve was another matter.

	The lawyer called back at two-fifteen to say he could meet me at
four-thirty at my grandfather's church.

	At a quarter to four, Bobby stuffed some bills into my pocket,
sneaked me out the back, through some woods, over a stream, through the
back of the grounds of a private school and up to a main street where we
hailed a cab. He rushed back to complete deliveries.

      The lawyer was waiting in a back pew when I walked in. He was the
ex-FBI agent who had come with my grandfather to Camp McFarlane. I'd
thought he'd be the slightly younger man who'd handled the will and
Freddy's trust fund. His smile was warm. His handshake firm, friendly. He
led me up to the altar, through the sacristy and into a small room in the
rectory where we sat across from each other on a leather covered sofa.

      He spoke slowly and softly. `It's certainly good to see you're all
right, Malcolm. Now, tell me everything, where you've been, everything.'

      I did just that, except, of course, my sexual liaisons.

      The lawyer took notes on a long yellow pad, lots of them. I think he
was taking down my words verbatim. I spoke slowly so he could. For some
reason, the sound of his fountain pen on paper felt reassuring, probably
because it seemed an official record of what had been done to me was coming
into being. He asked occasional questions, getting details I hadn't
provided including what I'd been doing downtown when the police grabbed me,
the last few months with my father, how I had been doing in school, the
plans I'd had to work during the summer and what I thought should happen to
me now that I'd escaped.

      When I'd finished, he looked over the several pages, asked a few more
questions, many about Dr. Hein and my impression that he was some kind of
Nazi, others about Mr. Coulter who Klaus said had also come over from
Germany, and more about Klaus.

      Finally, he sighed and said, `I'm really sorry we couldn't have
gotten you out of there before this but none of us had any idea where you
were. But, unfortunately, you've escaped from a state institution where you
were probably legally committed. The police are supposed to be looking for
you but I doubt they'll look very hard, at least for now. You look
okay. How do you feel?'

      `I'm okay, sir. I got some sleep and food. My father knows about the
place where I'm staying, at least that it's a place where I might be. If
they call him, he might tell them about the neighborhood where I'm
staying. Do you think they'll look everywhere he tells them?'

      `Not for a few days, at least not until next week what with the
holiday. But, I don't really know. If you have somewhere he doesn't know
about, it might be better. You managed to stay safe that last time. Was it
with a friend' I hope not with anyone like those men you were seeing.'

      `No. I had a friend that no one knew about, at least no one my father
knew or knew about. Maybe I can stay there again for a while.' Sammy's
house had entered my mind as a possible hideout but, after leaving him as I
had, it was anything but sure. `But can't you fix it so I can stay with my
aunt or Aunt Martha, Freddy's mother, legally, so he can't touch me?'

       He took a breath and let it out. `That's not easy, Malcolm. Henry
Lloyd is still your father. He put you in a state hospital, certainly
signed you in, something he has the legal right to do. I don't think it was
because of what you think you are. Did they specifically tell you why' I'm
sure it was because of the police detaining you.'

      It was difficult saying the words needed in front of this figure of
authority even though he was there for me, probably knew all about me. What
came out was, `All they said was that they were going to make me normal.'

	He leaned back and tapped on the yellow pad with his closed up pen.

      `You know, shortly after you disappeared, Freddy called me on your
behalf. He's quite a young man. My office is taking care of his trust
fund. Everyone should have a friend like him. I suppose you know I was
trying to find you. Well, Freddy thought I could use what I know about the
Camp McFarlane affair to force your father to reveal where you were and
bring you back. You both have to understand that I can't really do that
sort of thing. I can suggest he might have problems if you say or do
something but I can't threaten to do anything myself. Anyhow, I suspect
that, by now, all the money is well hidden or declared in some fashion. It
isn't very likely that, at this time, he has anything to fear from all
that. There are some avenues I can explore and I will but it will take
time. So, you'll need to be patient. Right now, I need to find out more
about your commitment and everything we've discussed here today. And then,
see what kind of arrangement we can make with your father.'

      He admonished me to stay safe and not to do anything that could cause
myself further problems. I'm sure he meant not to hustle. He gave me his
business card then took it back to write down his home phone number. `Call
me Tuesday afternoon after four. No, make that Wednesday.'

      I took a taxi back to the front of the private school grounds and
made my way to Bobby's rear door. Freddy was waiting. The lawyer had
underestimated my father's fury at my escape, or, perhaps, the concern
Henry Lloyd would have about what I might do to him.

      Freddy said, `Some detective came here just about half hour
ago. Threatened Bobby about lettin' you stay here or even talkin' to
you. I'll bet he was at Martin's too. He said the police were looking hard
for you but if they were, they'd a been here by now. He was. And, he said
there was a reward, one thousand dollars to the one that tells him where
you are and he catches you `cause of what they told him. That's what scares
the shit outta me, Malcolm. You can't go trusting anybody, just people like
me and Bobby and my mama. We gotta find you a place they don't know about,
where nobody knows you. What'd the lawyer say?'

      With a gut twisted by near panic, I told him.

      `I hope he can do something,' worried Freddy. He hugged me and said,
`We can't go seein' each other for a while. You know they gonna be watchin'
me. Damn, Malcolm, you gotta be real careful.'

      He left by the back door as I had to avoid anyone who might have been
watching.

      Bobby sat with me on his bed. `Malcolm, I think your father's
back. How else could he hire a detective?'

      That mirrored exactly what was on my mind. I wanted to call the house
and confirm it but was afraid they could trace the call to Bobby's. Bobby
reminded me of my promise to the man who'd driven me back from the
hospital.

      `Maybe you can stay at his house for a few days. Nobody knows about
there but me. Give him a really good time and who knows.'

      We planned how I'd reward my benefactor from the night before, make
him want to have me around for a while. Bobby had bought new clothes and
shoes for me. I wore a set.

	I arrived at the man's house at nine thirty via a round about route
that started at Bobby's back door. It was a double brick home, a family to
a side, with a small porch. The light was on. Bobby rang the bell then
waited out of sight to make sure I got in okay. I gave the man, Fred, an
exaggerated smile when he opened the door. He was already in his bathrobe.

	He was a bit stout, balding, in his mid thirties. He quickly shut
the door behind me.

      `Hello, sir! Oh, am I glad you're here. I was worried you might be
out.' I acted it all out with more enthusiasm than had Bobby that day when
I'd watched from his clothes cabinet.

	I asked, `Can we go to bed right now? I really want to go to bed
with you. Thank you very much for picking me up last night. I'll never
forget you for it.' The latter part was quite sincere.

	Without a word, he led me to his second floor bedroom. I started
taking my clothes off as we entered the room, walking backwards, staying in
front of him like an anxious puppy. The striptease, and it was that, was
slow and well planned. I knew what men liked. First, it was my shirt,
leaving a sleeveless undershirt to show off the shoulders and arms but just
give a hint of the chest and belly.

	Next, I sat on the side of the bed and took of a shoe and a sock at
a time. A lot of guys like feet so I showed them off. Then, I stood and
carefully undid my belt, button and fly. I let go of the pants and wiggled
my ass so they'd gradually fall down. The undershirt came off next, lifted
slowly, held a moment for me to gently massage my tummy, then taken
completely off and tossed onto the floor. I turned around, my rear toward
him, to remove my underpants, leaning over to show off my best part.

	Completely naked with a partial hard on which was all I could
manage to hold after getting it stiff outside his front door, I begged him
to do the same. `But don't be as slow as me, I want you in bed on top of
me.'

	That was easy. He was naked under his robe, average sized dick at
full extension, about six inches. My ass could handle eight. Klaus proved
that.

	I reached out and caressed it. It was hairer than I remembered. His
body was soft, overfed, underused. `You've got a nice body, sir. Come lie
beside me.'

	He climbed, still silent, up onto the relatively narrow bed. I lay
down with him, my back to my clothes where the small jar of Vaseline was in
a pants pocket. I played with his cock and balls.

	`May I put my mouth on it, sir, please?'

	`Uh,' he cleared his throat, `Yes, sure.'

	I turned around to a sixty-nine position and took the circumcised
head into my mouth. The slight taste of soap told me he had bathed for
this. Fred stiffened as I went two thirds of the way down, all the while
caressing the hairs on his gut.

	I stopped for a moment and said, `Please tell me if you're getting
close to shooting your sperm. I really want you to put that in my rectum,
way up inside my ass.'

	He nodded.

	`Promise?'

	He cleared his throat again. `Yes, I promise.'

	I sucked slowly running my lips up and down his shaft. He lay
quietly though pushing slightly up with his hips.

	After a couple of minutes or so, I asked him to wait a minute while
I reached down for the Vaseline.

	The final pitch began. `Sir, what I really want, want more than
anything else in the world is for you to fuck me in the ass, all the way up
inside me. I want to feel your big dick going in and out of my ass. Please,
will you do that, sir?'

      As he had with Bobby, he ignored the first entreaties.  I turned
around and lay on top of him, my face inches away from his, my lips by
his. `Please, pretty please, stick your great big dick in me, all the way
inside me. Please fuck me! Now!'

      He hesitated. I took the initiative. After reaching down for his rock
hard tool, I pulled on it and said, `I really need this big thing inside
me. Is it okay if I put some Vaseline on it' That's gonna feel sooo good
going in my hole. Please, now?'

      He seemed worried. I hoped I wasn't laying it on too thick. He nodded
okay. I shut up and coated his nearly bursting cock with a handful of the
lubricant.

      `Now, can I stick it in?'

      He nodded.

      I sat on his cock, popping the head in then waiting to keep him from
cumming too fast. I closed my eyes and said, `Ooohh God, that feels
good. Here I go.'

      I sat slowly. His gorged cock slid up inside me like a hand in an
oiled glove. His eyes closed for a moment then re-opened and gazed toward
where his crotch lay hidden under my big buns.

      `Sir, you want to fuck me like this or should we roll over?'

      `Um, a,' he cleared his throat again. `Yes, let's roll over.'

      I turned to face away from him, then laid back on him. We rolled
over.

      He was pumping before we came to rest with me pressed into the
bed. He wasn't half bad at it. The feeling was pretty good, great as a
matter of fact. My fantasy loving friend was experienced.

      He banged away for at least five minutes before stopping and pulling
me onto my side and screwing some more. Then, he rolled us back over, me
again on the bottom. He grunted with each thrust. With my cock pressed into
the bed, It was going to be interesting to see who got off first. His cock
head massaged my prostate time and again. His shaft slid back and forth
through my hole and rectum. He was breathing heavily, I think sweating
too. He lifted up on his arms and banged into me with more force than I
recalled him using with Bobby. He began grunting more and more each time he
slammed home after nearly pulling all the way out. The grunts became near
squeals. He opened his mouth and went, `erruunngh, erruungh' and shot his
load into my groin. He made short pumps into me with each pulse.

      When he collapsed on top of me I said, `Please try and stay inside of
me so we can do it again later. We can sleep like this.'

      He said nothing for a while then pulled the covers from beneath then
over us. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me tight to him. I knew
there was no way I could keep him inside but he'd get hard again and fuck
me. Of that, I had no doubt.

      By morning when we headed for the shower, he'd pumped me full of his
juice enough that I knew I'd have to sit on the toilet and get rid of it
before it ran down my leg. My benefactor had been well rewarded for his
great deed.

      He didn't think he could let me stay at his house but I was welcome
to come back over the weekend, perhaps Sunday night. That wasn't what I
needed.

      Bobby met me at the rear door. I'd called from Fred's house after we
finished a healthy bacon and egg breakfast and told him I was coming. It
was a ten minute walk around through the woods.

      `Martin's here and he's all excited. That detective was at his house
too. He knows about the reward. Everybody does. You've got to be real
careful but I'm pretty sure you can trust Martin. Anyhow, you gotta see
him. He's been crazy too, thought maybe your father killed you and hid the
body. I'm sending Steve off on an errand in a few minutes.

      That's nearly what he said when he came in. `I thought you were
dead.' After hugs and more sordid details of what he'd thought had happened
to me, I gave him an abbreviated story of what had gone on. It was cut even
shorter when Steven came back before it was finished.

      `Don't let nobody see you. A thousand dollars is a lot of money. Not
even Steven.'

      I tried to take a nap but sleep wouldn't come. That thousand dollar
reward complicated everything, made it easier to revert to the plan
developed during all the fantasies that had kept me sane during the months
of imprisonment.

      Still, if my father would just leave me alone, let me get on with my
life, it would be possible to get him out of my mind, at least from
dominating my thoughts. Didn't he realize what I was willing, ready,
prepared to do? The repercussions meant nothing to me. Death was easier to
accept than going back to that hospital or any of the other horrors he was
capable of inflicting on me. Patrick Henry came into my thoughts. I felt I
understood what he'd meant when he said `Liberty or death!'

      Options were few. Going to anyone my father even possibly knew of was
out of the question. That eliminated Georgie or anyone else associated with
Camp Washburn. I could see if my former customers downtown could find me a
place for a couple of years. I was still one very good fuck and didn't mind
it a bit. And, as a last resort, I could go crawling back to Sammy. The
ones who knew what part of town he lived in were all trusted friends who
could be counted on never to reveal anything about him.

      Money wasn't a problem. I had plenty in the bank close by. No one but
Freddy and Bobby knew about the account. Bobby still had my passbook though
I wouldn't be able to use it until Tuesday, three days away. Getting in and
out unseen would be tricky but, if I went in early, it would be quick. I
could wear a cap and go in from the side away from Edward's.

      At lunch time, Freddy managed to get into the house and into the room
with me without being seen. He let me hug him and returned it for several
minutes. His mother brought us lunch while Bobby kept Steven occupied.

      It told Freddy of my thoughts about the downtown group.

      `But the cops know about you goin' down there.'

      `Just the meat rack. I won't go anywhere near there. I've got enough
money to rent a room like the hustlers have. If I make just thirty or forty
dollars a week, I'll be okay and I can do that without going out on the
streets.'

      `Shit, Maacum, I don't like you doin' that. I don't know. It's just
kind of, you know?'

      There wasn't anything I could say to allay his feelings about my
whoring but I didn't really have any alternatives. `It's just that I can't
get any other kind of job without a birth certificate and then they'd have
my real name. What if my father put my name in the newspaper or the cops
find it somehow' Anyhow, I don't have a copy of my birth certificate and
only a parent can get it at City Hall. And the men I know aren't going to
tell anybody about me even if they find out the cops are looking for
me. Anyhow, like I said, what else am I going to do?'

      `Why don't you wait and see what that lawyer can do?'

      `Freddy, there's nothing he can do. My father is a complete
asshole. He's got his money all hidden. He's not afraid of me. And the law
is on his side. He's my father until I'm sixteen. That's a year and a
half.'

      Freddy complained but still hugged me when he left to go back to
work.

      I managed to get some sleep. Bobby came in mid afternoon. I told him
of my conversation with Freddy.

      `Well, you better stay off the streets. That detective sure as shit
talked to the cops down there and prolly some of the other
hustlers. They're all gonna be hot for that thousand dollars.' He gave me
my bank passbook.

      We were still talking when there was a hard knock on the door.

      `That's no customer! Grab some clothes and get by the back door. Make
sure they're not waiting for you back there. If they don't have no warrant,
I ain't letting `em in but if they do, get out fast. I'll hold them up.'

      He spoke as he headed for the door. Aunt Martha was just outside the
bedroom when Bobby opened the front door. There was worry on her face. She
rushed in to me and helped me shove some clothes into a shopping bag and
get to the back door.

      `I told you, I ain't seen him. Don't worry,' said Bobby amicably at
the front door. `Anyhow, for a thousand dollars, I'd give you my
mother. Hell, I'd you her for less.'

      The door closed. I took a deep breath.

      Back in the room, I said to Bobby, `I better go when it gets dark.' I
worried that a detective that worked the Saturday of the July Fourth
weekend might do anything, even break in at night when we were asleep. He
had to figure that, without any resources, there were only a few places I
could hide. Bobby's, with no parents to control who was there, was the most
likely place.

      Freddy agreed when he came in after work. He'd gone to Martin's and
sneaked out his back door and taken a long route to Bobby's back door.

      `I'm gonna stay here some at night. You still remember that boy
Francis' telephone number. You can call him and he can come here. He'll do
that, won't he?'

      My grade and high school classmate Francis was one I felt I could
trust but wasn't sure how willing a messenger he'd be with the cops looking
for me. Bobby and I found his phone number in the phone book when I
couldn't remember it.

      Freddy and I went into the bedroom to be alone. We talked more about
my plans. Freddy was obviously concerned I'd go back to hustling and get
caught.

      `Don't worry, Freddy,' I said with his hand in mine, `I've got plenty
of money in the bank. I don't need to do that for a while. And we can get
together by the stream. Nobody that detective knows, knows about there.'

      `But how you gonna get there? People can see you if you ride the
streetcar.'

      `I can take a taxi from up the road and go up in the houses on the
other side of the church and walk down from there.'

      `Just don't come anywhere near my house. There's people there who'd
turn you in for that money quick as a dog on a flea.'

      Strangely enough, though it felt wonderful to be there next to him,
feeling his body against mine, there was no urge to have sex. But I knew
there would be.

      `When are you off work?' I asked.

      `Tuesday and Thursday during the week then Sunday.'

      `I gotta go to the bank Tuesday and maybe the lawyer on Wednesday. Go
to the stream Thursday morning about nine.'

      At a few minutes after eight, after holding Freddy's hand again, I
went out the back door with a shopping bag of clothes and forty dollars
that Bobby had given me. I promised to return it when I went to the bank
the following week.

      After walking through the dark woods to the back of the private
school on the other side, I waited for and took a bus downtown.

      My first stop was the photographer's. He wasn't home. I tried the
apartment of another customer, an older man who'd seemed the kind who might
let me spend the night, with his dick up my ass, of course. He wasn't home
either.

      The next stop was the restaurant of Fran‡ois where a few of my
customers ate. It was open. Well dressed patrons were going up the stairs
when I passed by. Not having any other ideas and not wanting to be seen
standing alone on the street, I walked up and in, hoping to find an
employee who would call his boss.

      The man who intercepted me before my hand reached the handle was none
too friendly. My imagination came up with, `I was supposed to bring some
things to Mr. Fran‡ois this afternoon but couldn't. Please tell him Tommy's
here.'

      `I can give it to him. Let me have it.' He held out his hand while
blocking my entrance.

      `I'm supposed to give it straight to him. Just tell him it's
Tommy. He knows my father.' That was a clich‚ gamble that just fell off my
tongue without much mental input.

      Still, it worked. The man scowled and growled, `Wait here, outside.'

      I kept my back to the street. A male customer walked out. He gave me
the once over, sighed, and walked off. I was tempted to chase after him in
hopes the sigh was positive but elected to stay put.

      Two more walked out, arm in arm. The two obvious queens were chatting
away, apparently oblivious to my presence. I decided that if anyone came
out and seemed to notice, I'd appear as available as possible.

      The doorman re-appeared. He cocked his finger and motioned me in and
through a door to the left. It was a cloak room. `Wait there,' he said with
disapproval dripping off each word. `He's with some friends. Don't go out.'

      I sat in a chair and fussed with my clothes. Fran‡ois was a proper
gentleman. Best to look proper too. My shirt was button down so I buttoned
the collar on both sides. I rubbed my shoe tips on the back of my pants to
shine them up a bit after the rough travel through the woods. There were
burrs on my pants legs and one of the shoe strings. I was picking them off
when a voice with a French accent stood me up.

      `Tommy, where have you been' We were all worried. Come, Come.'

      I followed him out and up curved stairs to his apartment. As he
opened the door, I heard another pair of feet racing up the carpeted steps
behind us. It was another former client, one with a large cock, fatter but
not as long as Klaus'. He gave me what could be called a sprightly embrace,
all encompassing but not very tight thought he did manage to caress my
buns.

      He asked, `Where have you been' We've been worried. A couple of the
boys said you'd been arrested by the sex police. They didn't put you in the
reform school, did they?'

      `Something like that.'

      `Oh, you poor dear. They didn't rape you, did they?'

      There was expectation all over his face. I was no dummy. I played it.

      `A few times.'

      `Oh,' he cooed. `Did it hurt? They didn't do any damage, did they?'

      Fran‡ois interrupted his reverie. `Tommy doesn't need to talk about
that right now, Louis, do you, Tommy?' He didn't wait for a reply. `Would
you like something to eat?'

      Bobby and Aunt Martha had filled me up in case there was nothing
until the next morning. `No, I just ate a while ago. Thanks.'

      `Fran‡ois looked at his watch. `This is a bit late for you, no? What
time must you leave?'

      That was the opening I'd been waiting for. `Actually, my parents are
away for the holiday so I don't have to be home until Tuesday. I figured
I'd stay down here for a few days.'

      `They left you alone, for, uh, four days? How terrible of them.' He
looked at Louis who returned the proper look of disapproval and
concern. `Well, I suppose you could stay the night here. Louis might have a
place for you tomorrow, or, you're most welcome to stay here then too.'
Again he looked at Louis who was deep in thought.

      `Or,' interjected Louis, `you could stay with me tonight and Fran‡ois
tomorrow.' He twinked his eyes at his friend who stared politely back with
the opposite of a Mona Lisa smile.

      I stayed with the restaurateur. He used a condom and a flowery
smelling gel.

      After an eleven o'clock breakfast during which he plied me for the
tidbits I invented about boy sex in the reformatory, Fran‡ois suggested we
go to the park and enjoy the holiday festivities there. My mind was busy
keeping track of the trysts I'd claimed to have seen or been part of as I
was sure he'd want to go over them again. He quite enjoyed hearing about
teens doing teens. I enjoyed making up the stories.

      The park we went to was the four bladed one I'd used as a hustling
ground. I wore a cap and sun glasses Bobby had bought me to provide a
modicum of anonymity. The park was full of a broad segment of our city's
population, at least the white portion. There were obvious queens and
beatniks, well though sportily dressed couples, a few families, lots of men
and a few boys selling everything from balloons to flags, ice cream to tee
shirts.

      Fran‡ois seemed to know quite a few from every grouping, particularly
the homosexual crowd. The moment we entered and he began greeting others, I
worried I'd made a mistake coming along. It was only after ten minutes or
so when we were seated on a bench with two of his friends that I noticed an
older teen eyeing me carefully from across a small concrete fountain with
the bronze statue of a naked boy in the middle. I had a vague memory of him
as one of the meat rack hustlers. After a few moments, he walked around the
fountain and past us, looking at me furtively. There was no sexual
interest. He headed with a purposeful stride out the far end of the park. I
was sure I'd been spotted. It only made sense that the detective who had
gone all around Bobby's and Martin's neighborhood would do the same where
the cops had caught me hustling.

      I was panicking inside, desperate to get out of there, out of the
entire area. But, my clothes were in Fran‡ois' apartment. I put my hand on
his arm and my lips to his ear. `I've got to go. I need to get my things.'

      He looked at me, easily catching the fear in my eyes. `What's wrong,
Tommy?'

      I needed him to understand the urgency of my situation. Anyhow, he'd
probably hear something that day from boys or men who'd been approached by
my pursuer, probably offered that thousand dollar reward.

      `Let's walk toward your place. I'll tell you on the way but I've got
to get out of here.'

      He sighed, excused himself and stood. I led the way up toward the
monument at the center of the park. He quickly caught up to me.

      `Oh Tommy, you escaped, didn't you?'

      `Yes.'

      He picked up his pace. Neither of us spoke until we'd left the end of
the park near his restaurant.

      `Tommy, why didn't you tell me? Don't you know the trouble you could
put me in? You must be honest with your friends. Who saw you?'

        `A boy. There's a reward out for me but don't worry, it's not the
police.'

      He was understandably puzzled. We rushed up the stairs and inside.

      `I was locked up in a mental hospital called Green Haven. My
son-of-a-bitch father put me there so they could make me normal. They gave
all the homos electric shocks but it didn't work. Nobody every got out of
that place.'

      Fran‡ois opened the door to the apartment and stepped inside. `So,
it's the hospital that is looking for you?'

      `No, some detective my father hired.'

      `Well, that still means I am in trouble for letting you stay
here. Your father can have me put in jail for this. Oh, Tommy, you should
have told me. Now hurry!'

      I grabbed my shopping bag from the bedroom and started for the
door. Fran‡ois stopped me. `So the police didn't arrest you?'

      `No. They just took me in and called my father.'

      `And he put you in that place?'

      I nodded.

      `Oh, you poor boy. I want to know more but you must go.' He dug into
his pocked and came up with a handful of bills. `Here, take this. Do you
know my telephone number?'

      I shook my head.

      `Don't write this down, please, and only call me from a pay phone.'
He spoke his number slowly three times. I repeated it. He admonished me
again not to write it down but to call him in a day or two. `Perhaps we can
meet somewhere. This place is called Green what, Haven?'

      `Yes, there were a lot of kids like me there, thirty some.' I sensed
an interest and wanted to stoke it. Maybe he or some of his well heeled
friends could do something. `It's run by some ex-Nazi name Dr. Hein. He
even brought some kid with him all the way from Germany. He likes to
torture boys with that electric chair of his. And one of the men who
watches the ward where they put me was a Nazi too. He made boys blow him.'

      I gave him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. `Thanks, Fran‡ois,
I'll call you. I promise. Tell Louis I'm sorry I can't see him tonight.'

      Though still in a panic, I felt a bit energized by Fran‡ois' interest
in what had happened to me. I walked four blocks East, away from the park
and meat rack then turned toward downtown. What little uplift I'd received
from the restaurateur seeped out of me to be replaced by a weighty
depression, then an increasing hatred directed toward my father.

        The son-of-a-bitch wasn't going to leave me alone. He wanted to
control me, make me do and be what he wanted or lock me up for life in that
horrible concentration camp called Green Haven. He wasn't going to stop
until he had his way.

      By the time I reached the harbor some fifteen minutes later, murder
was again on my mind. It was the only way to stop him. It would probably be
my end too but there didn't seem to be any other way out. And, if I was
able to get away unseen, perhaps things would work out. I'd just have to do
it when my mother wasn't at home.

      There was a pay phone down the block in front of a seafood
restaurant. I fished some coins out of my pocket and made the call. My
mother answered. I hung up immediately. They were at the house. Either
they'd come back or hadn't left. No, I thought, there was no way they could
have gotten back from Europe so fast, especially since the detective was on
the case less than a day after my escape. For some reason, they hadn't gone
anywhere.

      The streets were as empty as I felt. Only a few cars passed by.
Everything was closed. The next day was July Fourth. God bless America!