Date: Mon, 7 Mar 2005 09:44:52 -0500
From: edcwriter@yahoo.com
Subject: THE PRIEST & THE PAUPER - 11

THE PRIEST & THE PAUPER - 11

Copyright 2005 by Carl Mason and Ed Collins

All rights reserved.  Other than downloading one copy for strictly personal
enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any
form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, except for reviews, without
the written permission of the authors.  However based on real events and
places, "The Priest and the Pauper" is strictly fictional.  Any resemblance
to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.  As in real life, however, the sexual themes unfold
gradually.  If you would like to read other Mason-Collins stories, you
might turn to "Out of the Rubble" and "Castle Margarethen," both of which
are archived in Nifty's "Historical" section.  Comments on the story are
appreciated and may be addressed to the authors at edcwriter@yahoo.com

This story contains descriptions of sexual contact between males, both
adults and teenagers.  As such, it is homoerotic fiction designed for the
personal enjoyment of legal, hopefully mature, adults.  If you are not of
legal age to read such material, if those in power and/or those whom you
trust treat it as illegal, or if it would create unresolvable moral
dilemmas in your life, please leave.  Finally, remember that maturity
generally demands that anything other than safe sex is sheer insanity!


CHAPTER 11

(Revisiting Chapter 10)

When the adults had departed, Brandon removed his mask, groaned, and asked
his buddies if they were going to tell the Gang that he had been bawling
like a baby when they found him in the stairwell.  "Hey, Mel," Shane called
out, "I saw a little moisture in Brandon-babe's eyes from the smoke, but I
sure as hell didn't hear any bawling.  Did you?"  "BRANDON-BABE?" Shane's
powerful #2 snarled, but his outrage was cut short by Mel's answer.  "Nah,
Shane, I didn't hear no fuckin' bawlin'!"

(Continuing Our Story - Out of the Ashes)

Promptly at ten o'clock the next morning, Sister Superior appeared at the
door to Room 214 in Sherburne's War Memorial Hospital.  Hospital staff -
many of whom had gone to St. Patrick's School in their earlier years - had
noticed her heroic picture on the front page of the morning's edition of
the Eastern Connecticut Times.  A comfortable chair had already been eased
into the crowded room.  As she entered, Shane, Brandon, and Mel broke into
cheers.  (The head duty nurse had to come down to the room and give the
boys the sign to quiet it down a bit, but she, too, was smiling broadly.)

Limping, leaning on her cane, the grand old lady settled herself heavily
into the chair.  Her habit made it impossible to see her injuries, but,
clearly, she had not come out of the incident unscathed.  She smiled softly
upon them before speaking.  "Thank you, my dear boys; we owe so much to you
and your friends.  I have been praying for your complete recovery all
night."  "Ha!" Mel interrupted.  "We saw YOU at those windows yesterday.
We know how many children would have died had it not been for your
courage!"  "Yeah," Brandon continued, "you were like a general in the
middle of a battle.  The picture that the Times photographer took will be
pinned up on my wall in the dorm forever!"  "We're so very sorry about
Sister Gertrude," Shane murmured.  Sister Paul looked at the boy steadily,
if sadly.  "Yes, I've known Sister Gertrude all of my adult life - and
Kathy Riley, who worked in the cafeteria, for even longer.  We went to
grammar school together.  They lived long, good lives, and I am sure that
our Lord has welcomed them Home with open arms.  As she dabbed at her eyes,
she added, "It's the children for whom I weep."  Shane was temporarily
overcome.  The idea of Sister Superior weeping was...was...impossible!
Without remembering that he had nothing on other than his underwear shorts
and a (very) short hospital gown - and that untied in the back - he leapt
out of his bed, approached the good nun, and knelt beside her chair.  For a
moment he lay his head on her hand which rested on the arm of the chair.
"They are in our prayers, too, Sister," he murmured.  "You look so much
like my brother Tom who died in the landing at Anzio," she whispered, even
the dark red hair."  Catching herself, she growled, "Now back into bed with
you, you young scamp!  And hold the back of your gown together!"

Regaining her poise, she told the boys that Fr. Tom had heard from the
Diocese that morning.  Inasmuch as the School had been very adequately
insured, a new St. Patrick's School would soon begin to rise beside the
convent and the church.  "Now," she said, "I have many of my students to
see before I am driven up to Storrs to see the others.  You will be good
and do as you're told - or I shall have to speak with you when you are
released."  With that she came over to each of the boys, blessed him with
the sign of the Cross, and kissed him on the forehead.  Before Sister could
depart, however, Shane asked her for a special favor.  Tim had a friend, a
student, at Storrs whom he missed terribly.  It was something of an
emergency.  Could he accompany Sister?  "Yes," she said, "I shall let
Brother John know when he is to be ready."  With a smile, she left the
room.

Not quite believing what he had just done, he looked over at Mel.  The big
blond was doubled up with laughter.  Slowly...very slowly...almost
painfully...he dared to look at Brandon.  His big #2 scowled, rolled his
eyes towards the ceiling...and then pulled the sheet up over his head!

After several days of relative inaction, the three boys were becoming
convinced that they would never be released from the hospital.  Shane
especially missed the services that marked the end of Holy Week and, of
course, Easter itself.  Yes, Fr. Tom brought Communion to them, but it
wasn't the same.  The most serious problem concerned the thick black smoke
that had resulted from the fire.  The doctors simply didn't know the
long-term effects of inhaling smoke from so many substances that were no
longer used in building.  Further, unlike the firemen and the emergency
workers, neither they nor the children and their teachers had been equipped
with breathing devices.  Countless tests were taken and sent as far away as
Boston for analysis.

Finally, one week after being admitted to the hospital, they were released
to Brother John.  In all honesty, the staff was not completely sad to see
them go.  Everyone agreed that they were good kids, but keeping three 15
and 16 year-olds inactive for a full week?  Not surprisingly, the horseplay
and the complaints had increased to the point where staff nerves were
definitely frazzled.  To give but one example, Shane was finally identified
as the culprit in an escapade that involved the town's Water Department,
plumbing examiners, and two research firms.  It seems that while the other
boys distracted an orderly, he had poured cherry Kool Aid into water
pitchers being distributed to patients throughout the floor.  The medical
possibilities had the hospital staff in a frenzy!  (On the day that Brother
John realized he had provided the Kool Aid to the redheaded one, the
consumption of Irish whiskey at the rectory spiked dramatically!  What he
said to Shane is best not reported!)  As regards complaints, all three boys
had been grousing about the food since their arrival.  Everyone who visited
them was bombarded with piteous requests to smuggle in food.  They quickly
determined that Dr. Bill was the softest touch and hit him up for daily
pizzas.  Had they gradually discarded the wrappings, all might have been
well.  But...  On the day before their release, the hospital's Housekeeping
Director and her staff conducted a thorough examination of the second
floor.  Over time, there had been numerous complaints about lazy
housekeepers and potentially dangerous sanitary conditions.  Evidently, the
complaints had some merit, for when the Director checked personally under
the beds in Room 214, she found twelve empty pizza boxes, a great pile of
candy wrappers, and a wide assortment of other flotsam and jetsam.
Needless to say, on their release, there was an enthusiastic outpouring of
volunteers offering to wheel the boys down to the front door!  Shane caught
a quick glance at Brother John out of the corner of his eye.  He had his
linebacker's face on.  Bad news - lie low!

On reaching St. Pat's, they felt as if they had lain asleep for ten years
and suddenly awakened in another decade.  The windows in the convent had
been repaired; heavy trucks were already removing debris from the site of
the school.  As they went down the stairs into the Church Hall, they
noticed that three classes were in session.  Brother John followed them
into the dorm.  "Where are all the other students, Brother?" Brandon asked.
Little John didn't appear as if he were about to be diverted by idle
chitchat, but he did answer that some of the classes were over at
Ste-Anne's, the seventh and eighth grades were up on the hill at Holy
Trinity (using a bus loaned by the Baptists for transportation), the
kindergarten was in the convent dining room, and there was one class in the
rectory.  "The contractors have promised the new school will be ready for
classes by September first," he added.  "Ok, guys, sit.  Everyone around
here owes you a great deal and you have clean records - other than in the
hospital.  I don't exactly blame you...for everything.  If I had to sit
around twiddling my thumbs for a week, I'd go bananas, too.  But it's time
to climb down out of your tree and get back with the System.  Those high
school admissions tests come next month; you have obligations around here;
and all three of you are on a baseball team that looks like it's going
somewhere.  I expect you to get with it.  Do I make myself clear?"  "Yes,
Brother!" three voices snapped as if one.

(One, Two, Three Strikes You're Out!)

Actually, Brother John wasn't wrong about the baseball team - or anything
else, for that matter.  The PAL "Eagles" were clearly one of the strongest
teams in Group A.  For instance, the Eagle roster included Brandon (a
premier first baseman), Mel (an outfielder and slugger in the Babe Ruth
mold who could, and often did, hit the ball out of the park), Shane (who
pitched behind two Sherburne High sophs, including Chuck who was the
starting pitcher), Tim, Keanu and one other eighth grader.  In addition to
one eighth grader from Ste-Anne's, the remaining six boys on the roster
hailed from either Nathan Hale Jr. High or Sherburne High School.

To some extent - perhaps in a not completely conscious attempt to restore
its sense of solidarity damaged by fire, death, and having its school
children scattered across town - St.  Patrick's took the Eagles to its
heart.  Yes, three of its greatest heroes were on the team, but the parish
actually made no distinction between the boys from St. Pat's and those from
the other schools.  Every rally was held in the Church Hall, for the public
schools had their own teams and leagues.  Over the course of the season,
the boys from the other schools were so idolized by the kids, staff, and
parishioners of St. Patrick's that they soon saw the church as their second
home.  (Besides, the food after each game was super - and there was plenty
of it!)  In fact, "Eagle-mania" was a phenomenon that even invaded several
of Fr. Tom's homilies - and when the new school opened in the fall of 1953,
the Eagle was adopted as the official mascot!

Each team played two games against the other five teams in its group plus
two additional games against teams from other groups.  Whenever the Eagles
played, the stands at the old City Park stadium were jammed.  Everyone wore
orange, of course - even the Sisters sported orange ribbons on their
habits!  What a season it was!  It soon became apparent that the Bisons and
the Pequots were the chief opposition, but the Eagles took both games from
the Pequots.  In the first game with the Bisons, Mel smashed two home runs,
one a grand slam.  Buttressed by Chuck's fantastic pitching and some great
fielding, the Eagles triumphed by a score of 6-2.  Thus, going into their
final game - the second game against the one-loss Bisons - the Eagles were
undefeated.  It was tight all the way.  In the top of the eighth, Mel hit a
TOWERING solo homer and trotted around the base paths to tumultuous cheers
from his fans (1-0).  There was no more scoring in the eighth.  In the top
of the ninth, the Eagles got two men on base, but couldn't bring them home.
The stage was set for a wild finish.  The Bisons pushed one run across
early (1-1), but no one lost heart.  (There was always the tenth!)  With
two outs, the Bisons advanced a runner to third as Chuck began to tire.
The next batter sent a sharp drive between first and second, but the
ever-dependable Brandon covered it and sent it right into the catcher's
glove.  With a beautiful move, he tagged the runner a good six inches from
the bag.  No one in the stadium - the Bison fans included - could believe
it when the umpire called the runner SAFE!  As the stadium erupted, the
Eagles team and coaches - led by a furious Sister Superior! - poured out
onto the field in protest.  Even though she demonstrated graphically how
the runner had been tagged out and stood over the poor umpire, her tongue
pouring heat rays down upon his head strong enough to melt his inch-thick
glasses, it did no good.  The game ended in a 2-1 Bison victory.  There
would have to be a playoff for the Group A championship.

On the return trip to St. Patrick's, Sister sat in the rear seat of the
station wagon with Father Tom, weeping into her hands and moaning, "What
have I done?  What have I done?  We're supposed to be role models!"
"Fortunately," Fr. Tom observed, "the Lord God reminds even the strongest
of us at times that we're human."  Inconsolable, Sister would have none of
it and ran towards the convent as soon as the car had come to a stop.
Fr. Tom and Brother John who had been driving looked at each other and
rolled their eyes towards the skies.  That which was to have been a party
in celebration of a championship was, of course, a complete bust.  Such was
their grief that the participants even left slices of pizza on the trays
when they departed shrouded in gloom.  (With teenagers, that's a load of
gloom!)

The playoff game wasn't rescheduled until the next Saturday - to let
passions cool a bit, Captain McManus, the PAL Baseball Commissioner had
said.  Again the stadium was jammed; again Sister Paul sat (firmly) in her
seat leading the nuns in rooting for their Eagles; again the game was
tight, as it should have been between two evenly-matched teams.  A superb
bunt led to an Eagles score in the seventh, and they still led 1-0 going
into the bottom of the ninth.  Chuck had the game well in hand as the
second Bison batter struck out.  Again, disaster struck.  The next batter
sent a screaming ball right up the middle of the diamond...and into Chuck's
pitching arm.  The boy staggered backwards off the mound and collapsed onto
the ground holding his arm in obvious agony.  When the youngster was helped
off the field to a tremendous ovation by the entire stadium, Coach signaled
for Jean-Paul - the second Sherburne soph - to come onto the field.
Jean-Paul couldn't close the gates.  The next Bison batter hit a towering
ball that had all the earmarks of a home run, a ball that Mel caught only
by leaning backwards over the fence.  The runner tagged and advanced, but
was forced to hold at third by Mel's throw.  Jean-Paul settled down a bit,
but walked the next two men.  Coach called time, strode to the pitcher's
mound, and signaled for Shane to come on.  Shane knew he should be nervous
- after all, he had only having pitched about a half-dozen innings during
the season, the bases were loaded, the Bisons were on a roll, and the
stadium was going berserk - but he wasn't.  His first pitch was a beautiful
fastball - right down the pike.  STRIKE ONE!  His second pitch caught the
corner.  STRIKE TWO!  Unfortunately, his next three pitches were balls.  A
full count...and the bases were loaded.  Undaunted, he stood upright at the
mound as the spectators roared.  Calmly, he removed his cap and wiped the
sweat from his forehead.  Then he threw his patented curve ball that Chuck
and he had worked on for so many hours.  The Bison batter swung
savagely...at thin air.  STRIKE THREE!  YOU'RE OUT!

He left the diamond, riding on the shoulders of his teammates.  It was a
grand party - they even had to send out for extra pizzas!  No one was
surprised when Shane insisted that Captain McManus present the championship
trophy to Chuck, the captain of the team - nor that Chuck insisted that the
redhead grab the other handle of the trophy for the Times photographer!
Even in the face of his later exploits in high school and college, the
framed copy of that picture remained one of Shane's most precious
possessions.

As the school year wound down to its close, the members of the Gang who
hoped to be admitted to high school in the fall took their competency
examinations.  Inasmuch as the tests had included essays, they were told
that there would be a delay before the results were available.  (Other
older members of the Gang had received firm promises from a number of local
contractors to take them on as apprentices or workers if they completed one
more year at St. Patrick's with a good record.)  Tiger had finally
prevailed upon his parents for a car and, thus, Tim was happy once again.
Shane and his beloved dad attended the school's graduation ceremony in the
great church, congratulated Keanu and a large number of other eighth
graders whom they counted as friends, and gloried in that which the year
had brought.

(SUN, SURF, & REFLECTION)

In late June, Fr. Tom sprang quite a surprise on the Gang.  It seemed that
the Diocese owned a large "retreat house" on a private beach at the shore.
(Author's note: A "retreat house" is a facility where people may spend time
in prayer, meditation, or reflection - even in planning - hopefully under
less pressure than in their workaday world.)  While they wouldn't have its
full use, for a group of seminarians and college students was also
scheduled, they could look forward to a full July week in the sun, sand,
and surf.  Further, given his strong progress medically and in physical
therapy, Collin had been granted a week's "leave" and would be able to join
them.  The full Gang would be together!  Brother John and two older adults
who had worked with the boys on various projects would serve as chaperones,
with Fr. Tom coming down from Sherburne whenever he could.  Unfortunately,
in addition to having a book to finish, Dr. Bill had to teach the summer
session at UConn and, thus, would be unavailable.

Those summer days down at Old Kennequepaug were like none that the boys had
ever experienced.  They splashed in the water; some caught up on a missed
childhood and constructed elaborate sand castles; others played wild games
of volleyball.  Some just soaked up the hot July sun.  There were hikes
along a beach where every step discovered new treasures.  There were even
short sails out into Long Island Sound, for one of the chaperones had moved
his boat over to the small dock that belonged to the retreat facility.  In
the evening, there were marshmallow roasts and moonlit runs along the
beach.  In short, it was pure and simple magic for which the boys under the
guidance of Brother John gave quiet thanks to God.

It was also a time for enjoying old friends and making new ones.  Tim, for
instance, finally had the opportunity to really get to know Shane and
express his thanks for all the support the redhead had given his
relationship with Tiger up at Storrs.  Yes, that relationship was alive and
kicking.  Indeed, if anything, it was tighter and more mutually satisfying
than ever before.  The boys spent long hours hiking the far reaches of the
property and sharing their dreams, as well as their growing insights into
what it meant to be a gay man in a straight world.  On one such hike, the
night overtook them.  They sat in a small grassy depression in an isolated
area of dunes, their arms around the other's shoulders, looking out at the
water below and the stars above.  At one point, Tim drew Shane close and
quietly asked if he could express his thanks "in another way."  The redhead
grinned softly and said, simply, "Yeah, Tim, I'd like that."  Within
minutes, they lay on top of their clothing, their bodies locked together,
their hands feverishly exploring each other.  When Tim murmured that he
wanted Shane inside him, the Eagles hero prepared him with their natural
bodily fluids and entered him gently.

It was only at that point that they realized that another couple was upon
them.  Mel with Collin sitting on his shoulders - a common sight at Old
Kennequepaug - were out for an evening "pony ride."  Suddenly, without
warning, the pair trotted around the side of a dune and came to a
screeching halt in front of Shane as he thrust vigorously into an ecstatic
Timothy.  Mel knew immediately that there was trouble.  While he had
settled down considerably, Collin was still capable of language that would
burn the granite shell off the Empire State Building!  Mel could feel the
boy inhaling air and getting ready to let fly a homophobic outburst from
which no one would recover.  Thinking more quickly than he had ever thought
he could, he yelled out, "Hey, guys, can you give a buddy a little relief?"
Collin's lift-off sequence interrupted, he hesitated.  Shane recovered
instantaneously.  "Sure, Mel, let Tim hold Collin, shuck those shorts, and
get down here!"  (Though he would never admit it, the opportunity to play
with the gorgeous, straight-as-an-arrow blond hunk was something about
which he had dreamed since he met him as a homeless kid!)  As Collin
watched wide-eyed and breathless, a naked Mel lay down on the clothes
beneath a barely controlled redhead.  "Do it and do it fast!" the blond
snarled through tightly pursed lips.  "'Do it,' yes; 'do it fast,' maybe
not," the jubilant redhead thought.  Realizing that his one shot at Mel was
staring him in the face (indeed, it was almost poking him in the eye!),
Shane proceeded to give him his buddy the mother of all blow jobs.  When
Mel finally came, he arched his powerful body so far off the ground that
Shane almost rose into the sky to become a new star.  The roar that he let
out was only second to the cup or so of cum that he propelled into the
redheaded one's mouth.  "Damn," he thought, "no woman has ever done that to
me!"  (Indeed, the wide-eyed hunk's judgment was well founded, for the King
of the Swat was now eagerly sought as a sex partner by the most prestigious
girls at both Nathan Hale and Sherburne High.)  "Wow!" he thought and shook
his head in horny amazement.

"Tim," Shane commanded, "why don't you see if our other buddy needs a
little relief?"  Collin broke in before Tim could answer.  In as mature and
casual a voice as he muster, Collin said, "Thanks Shane - and thanks, Tim.
You're real buddies - and I do need a little...relief.  But if you don't
mind, I want Mel to do it."  Mel stared up into Shane's eyes in utter
consternation.  "Ah, shit!" he breathed.  "Red, what in hell do I do?"
"Fuck, Mel, his buddy whispered, "it can't be much larger than a clit.
Just do what comes naturally."  With that, he lifted off of the blond hunk
and helped him to sit up.  Realizing that Mel was close to a catatonic
episode, he motioned for Tim to help Collin shed his shorts and come on
over, the boy's rock-hard two inches preceding him.  On his back beneath
his hero, he looked up into Mel's eyes with an absolutely shit-eating grin
and said, "Yeah!"  The redhead noticed that Mel's eyes were screwed shut,
but his lips managed to find Collin's cocklet and began doing "what comes
naturally."  Within minutes, the newest member of the Gang tensed, let out
a sharp squeal, and shuddered in the throes of one mighty (if dry) orgasm.
"Oh, he gasped as he reached up and kissed his hero."  The King of the Swat
had never moved so fast on the baseball field as he helped Collin back into
his shorts, set him on his shoulders, and trotted off into the darkness.
As they departed, Shane and Tim could hear him instructing his protege in
the ways of men.  "There are some things, Collin, that real buddies just
don't share with other people."  As they trotted around a corner, they
could just hear the little guy swear that he never would.  His last muffled
comment seemed to be something like, "Can we do it again, Mel?"

For some days, Shane had been curious about the other group at the retreat
house.  Over lunch, he finally got to know Larry, one of the college
students.  The big Yale jock told him that it was a mixed group of college
students and seminarians.  "The college guys are seriously thinking about
going into the priesthood," he said.  This retreat gives us a chance to
talk with seminarians, to pray, and to think further about whether this is
what we really want to do with our lives.  The retreat leader is a young
priest from New Haven who was only ordained two years ago.  He's given a
couple of really great talks, but the best thing is that he understands
everyone's concerns.  I know that he's been a big help to me."  "Any chance
of my sitting in on a couple of your sessions?" Shane asked, ready to back
off from the fun and games for a bit in any case.  "I'm sure it will be ok,
but I'll ask Fr. Gray anyway," Larry answered.

That evening, Father Tom Gray personally invited Shane to join them for a
question and answer session plus a beer and some food.  He really enjoyed
meeting the group, seminarians and college students alike.  All
types...jocks, brains, comedians, several just nice guys, and one jerk whom
he could easily have done without...  Most were straight, but Shane knew
instinctively that a couple were gay.  Sprawling around comfortably in one
of the house's lounges, the questions started flying.  College courses that
would make seminary studies more helpful?  Freedom of will and the Church's
authority?  Parish priests and priests in Orders such as the Jesuits?
Finally, the redhead couldn't restrain himself.  "How about celibacy?" he
asked.  "I mean...how can a guy possibly give up sex?  Man..."  A general
round of laughter met his question, some of it a bit on the nervous side,
especially from some of the collegians.  Father Gray fielded that question
himself.  "Well, Red, there's no denying that sex is super - and there's no
denying that one of the greatest thing you can do in this life is to love a
good woman and have little ones.  Even though I'm happy...deep down...when
my parishioners...of every age...call me 'Father,' I do admit that I hurt a
little when I hear a young boy run up to his father after Mass and call him
'dad.'  The fact is, however, that marrying and having kids is not the ONLY
'great thing' that you can do with your life.  The priest decides that he
is going to give his entire life...all of his energies...to God and His
Church - and he knows that God will not only give him the strength to
overcome the occasional hurts and the physical longing, but will fill his
life with challenges and meaning.  Does that help?"  "Yes, it does
help. Thanks, Father," Shane answered thoughtfully.  After a few more
questions and answers, Shane joined the group at a table laden with good
food and drink.  Doing justice to both, he finally sought his bed after
talking and joking for a while with Brandon, Mel (plus his devoted little
shadow), and Tim.

The next morning (the penultimate day of their time at the shore), the Gang
joined the collegians and the seminarians in the small chapel for a
glorious sung Mass offered by Fr.  Gray.  Larry and Shane were overjoyed
when the young priest enthusiastically accepted their offer to serve at the
altar.  There were no robes for the "altar boys," but that didn't seem to
matter.  It was so right!  During the rest of the day, Shane rather divided
his time between the Gang and the other occupants of the retreat house.
Actually, he was never prouder when the Gang defeated the college guys in a
wild game of volleyball.  As he and his closest friends sat on the beach,
watching the sun go down - the initially brilliant colors softening and
fading on the water - everyone (especially Shane and the bubbly Collin)
knew that it had been a week they would remember all their lives.

Just before lunch, Brother John collared Shane and said that Dr. Bill had
called and wondered whether Shane would like to wait around for a little
while before having dinner on the Shore and driving back to Sherburne with
him.  Though he was a little sad to see the Gang depart without him, he
wanted so much to see Bill and decided to wait.  In the interim, Father
Gray sought him out and sat down beside him on the porch steps.  "I'm
impressed, Red," he said seriously.  "It's not hard to see why the guys
like and respect you.  I also understand that you are quite a pitcher.
That was my position, you know...up at Harvard.  Have you ever considered
becoming a priest?  We could use a good man like you."  "I don't know,
Father," Shane answered.  "There are problems."  "Problems?" the young
priest replied.  "Let's see.  You've had a really rough life.  You're
gay..."  "Father!" Shane almost exploded.  "Who told you that?  They had no
right!"  "Well," Fr. Gray continued quietly, "Father Burke filled me in on
some of your background when he stopped by two days ago.  It wasn't gossip.
I spotted you days ago, and I needed to decide whether to speak with you
more seriously.  Who told me that you were gay?  Nobody...  You have my
word...my word of honor.  Let's just say that it takes one to know one."
"You, Father?"  Shane whispered.  "Yes, me, Red," the young priest
answered.  "I can't say it's been easy, but God gives us the strength that
we need, and the Church is 'understanding' when it finds the right man.
Think about whether you are one of those men - one of those few men whom
Christ is seeking.  If I can ever help, my door will always be open to you.
You know that?"  "Yes, Father, I know that - and thanks," Shane said with a
grin.

Dr. Bill showed up around 4:30 p.m. - after even the other group had left.
"Sorry, Big Red!  It's a long drive down here from Storrs, and the
Department Chairman wasn't about to let me out of his office before he had
his say.  Seems like promotion to full professor is in the works if my new
book is accepted for publication - and the Chairman thinks it's great!"
"Bill!  Congratulations!" Shane yelled so loudly that a couple of seagulls
took off with wild squawks.  "Oh, but that's not all, my love!  I've got
some news for you!"  "Oh, yeah!" the happy redhead exclaimed.  "What's up?
Common...give!"  "Over supper, my young friend," Bill said, smiling
mysteriously.  "Over supper..."

An exuberant academician drove nearly to New London before he reached one
of his all-time favorite restaurants and pulled into the crowded parking
lot.  Entering the imposing building, the two young men were quickly shown
to a reserved table that afforded them some privacy.  Naturally, the dinner
was superb - although Shane could scarcely contain his curiosity and
fidgeted throughout the meal.  He also consumed the better part of the
restaurant's supply of steamers!  Finally, over dessert and coffee, Bill
pulled an official looking piece of paper from his inner coat pocket and
began reading: "Results of Competency Testing for Shane McGuire.  1)
Mr. McGuire passed each of his tests and is ruled admissible to the tenth
grade at Sherburne High School, beginning with the fall term of the
academic year 1953-54."  Shane was about ready to let out a screech of joy,
but Bill put his finger to his lips and said, "There's more.  2) Mr.
McGuire's performance on both the English and the history tests was ruled
'outstanding,' and he will be placed in the most advanced tenth grade
sections in those subjects."  Shane was dumbfounded and sat back in his
chair, his legs splayed widely, tears running unashamedly down his face.
"Congratulations, my dear son," Dr. Bill said quietly and with great pride.
"Dad, it's been a wonderful dinner, but, please, let's get out of here,"
the redhead gasped.  Quickly taking care of the check, the professor guided
the unsteady young man out of the restaurant and to his car.  Once there,
Shane collapsed into him and tearfully pressed kisses into any part of his
body that he could reach.  "Whoa, beast, it's not safe," Bill murmured.
I'll give you a choice.  Is it back to your home at St. Pat's or to your
other home at my place?"  Grinning goofily, the redhead would only say,
"Guess!"

As they passed through Norwich, Bill muttered that there one piece of news
that wasn't so happy.  All the boys, saved one, had passed.  Unfortunately,
Mel had failed both the English and mathematics tests.  "Oh, my God," Shane
breathed.  "All is not lost," the professor continued.  "I've never seen
them do it before, but they have agreed to retesting during the third week
of August.  Just between you and me, I think they have their eye on one
hell of a baseball player, but don't quote me on that."  Shane grinned
widely.  "In any case, Sister Paul is a whiz in math, and she said that she
would work with Mel - as long and you and I worked with him in English.  I
know you have many obligations, but are you POSSIBLY interested?"  In his
best Edward G. Robinson imitation, Shane growled that if Bill weren't
driving, he would "punch his lights out."  As it was, he laid his hand on a
rather prominent professorial bulge and squeezed lightly.  "Yikes!" Bill
yelped.  "What did I ever do to deserve a sex fiend for a son?  "Oh, by the
way," he added with a leer, "I told Brother John that we would probably be
very late getting back into Sherburne, and he gave you permission to stay
overnight."  "Man, oh man," Shane grunted, "What did I ever do to deserve a
dirty old man for a father?"

After collecting his mail and tossing it on the dining room table, Bill
barely looked at the downstairs as he pushed one hunky redhead up the
stairs in front of them.  Pieces of clothing having dropped where they came
off their bodies, both men were nearly naked by the time they reached
Bill's bedroom and dove into his big bed.  The professor was ready to
settle down to some heavy groping and hard kissing, but Shane stopped him
dead in his tracks.  "Bill, I've got that 'itch' I've told you about.  I
NEED you in me...so bad!  PLEASE!"  "But, Shane, I've never done it..." his
hero whispered in acute embarrassment.  "DOESN'T MATTER!  I NEED YOU...
NOW!"  "Damn!" the academic muttered.  "I never could refuse you anything -
even those damned pizzas that got the hospital administrator down on my
case!  What in hell do I do?"  As Shane scrambled to get the tube of
lubricant out of the night stand drawer, he grinned widely at a very
dubious professor and laughed, "Oh, it's not hard - well, yeah, it has to
be hard - but you're going to have so much fun that you won't walk for a
week!"  "Oh..." Dr. Bill murmured.


(To Be Continued)