Date: Thu, 13 Sep 2007 05:36:42 -0700 (PDT) From: Mark Adams <mark.stories@yahoo.com> Subject: Temptation of Adam - Chapter 4 Disclaimer ------------------------------------------------------------------------ This story is a work of fiction. It contains sexual content between underage and adult males which may be inappropriate or illegal where you live. I do not condone the actions or choices of the fictional characters contained within this story. If you are offended by this or if it is illegal where you live, please go no further. Why would you? Since you've made it this far, gentle reader, I'm assuming you know the ride you're on... ....From the last chapter... "So does Adam have any family here?" I asked. She sighed. "No. And if I didn't know better, Adam has been shopping for a father." The thought hadn't crossed my mind. She interrupted my thoughts by asking, "So what are your intentions with Adam?" She was as direct as her son. "I... I don't know," I stumbled. "I hadn't really thought of it, to be perfectly honest." "To be perfectly honest," she inquired "with me? Or with yourself?" Temptation of Adam - Chapter 4 ------------------------------------------------------------------------ I guess I could have taken Ana's question a couple of different ways. I also had a feeling there was only one question she could be asking, but there was also no way I could answer it. "Ana," I said, "I'm not sure I understand what you mean." "I'm not as old as I look," she said, "but I'm wiser than you give me credit for." She sidled past me into the living room and returned to her seat on the couch. Not really knowing what to do, I followed her back to the living room, sitting back onto the chair, but leaning forward on the edge. "You seem to be healthy, I see," she said, changing the subject and scanning me from head to toe. "Full of muscles. Young, too. What are you 22, 23?" "I'm 23 eyers old," I said, meekly, wondering where she was going with this. I was feeling uncomfortable with her questions, but if she were frightened of me or my 'intentions' with her boy, she would have just 'named my sin' and threatened me, trying first to scare me away. So I was also curious. "And single, I assume?" "Yes, but I'm still young..." Oops. Not when compared with Adam. "And educated, obviously?" "Yes." I couldn't tell if she was interviewing me as a lover for her son, playing 'Twenty Questions' or just a lonely old woman, in her final days, looking for a conversation. The first two options made no sense and the third didn't feel right. "Do you like Adam?" she asked, again a loaded question. "Of course I do. But I don't know what you're..." "Hush," she instructed, cutting me off. "I don't have much time left and I don't plan to spend it hearing nonsense and half answers." Whoa. That was a cheap shot. But I had no response because she was right. "What does a man, 23 years old find interesting in a 10 year old boy? I don't think you know." She paused for emphasis. "But I do. I wasn't born yesterday, Mark." Her using my name comforted me some, since it was familiar and not distant. "So try, for a moment, being honest. Not for me, because I don't need an answer. You do." She stared directly at me. "Are you gay?" she asked. Like mother like son, I guess. I thought for nearly a full minute before responding, and I thought each second that passed only proved to her that the answer was "Yes." But it wasn't that simple. Before this morning, I would have immediately said I was not and I probably would have added the familiar tag line of "But I have some gay friends." Which I didn't, really. I had been friendly with some gay people. I had questioned my sexuality like most people, but mostly when I was younger-- I knew that was typical. The thought of being with a grown man was not my cup of tea. Being with a woman would have been 'ok' I guess. I guess that meant I was straight. But the (fleeting) thoughts of being with a boy were exciting. And dirty. Wrong. I felt guilty for occasionally having those thoughts or dreams. I eventually settled on the answer Adam had given me. "I don't know." "I see," she said. She picked at a cat hair on her pant leg. "Are you attracted to my son?" she asked, breaking her eye contact for the first time. I thought briefly. I hadn't done anything wrong so far. I'd done nothing but offer to help. If I admitted I was, the worst that could happen is I could exit this crazy ride before something bad happened. So I said "A little, yes." I'd just admitted something to a stranger I hadn't really even admitted to myself. "Just a little, hmm?" She returned her gaze to me and she seemed a bit amused. "Unlike most of the world," she said, measuring her own words now, "I don't believe that makes you a monster." Whoa, this was surreal. "But Adam is only 10 years old, Mark. And as much as I trust his judgment, again, he's only 10." "You're right," I said. There was no other answer. "But I only said I was attracted to him. I didn't say anything about intending to act on those feelings. I would be perfectly content just to be with him. To be near him. To... be his friend." And I meant every word. "I can tell you believe that, Mark," she said, but she was shaking her head. "but I'm more realistic. I know how strong those feelings can be." She did? "You would do your best to avoid anything... improper. I'm sure these situations happen all the time. I don't imagine they're much different than a man who longs for a woman. Rarely does he force himself on her." "Ana," I said, "I would never hurt your child." "I know you couldn't hurt him," she scoffed. "I know the difference between someone who... loves a child and someone who is violent. She now moved toward the edge of her own seat. "Adam is in love with you, Mark. Like it or not, that's the way it is. The only way you could hurt him is emotionally. But so could a hundred other people. Children are not so fragile, though. In fact, they are much more... como se dice? Resilient. They are more resilient even than most adults." She nodded her head at me as if to say that last comment was for me. Wow... She settled back in to her seat. "Adam has always been intrigued by older men. Perhaps the lack of a father caused this. Who knows? But he has chosen you, I see. So... you would do anything for my Adam?" "Yes, of course I would," I said. I was expecting her to ask me to buy him something, or to ask me to leave him alone. But I was not prepared for her next sentence. "Then what if he asked you to cross that line?" she asked. "Would you still be so strong?" Wow... She didn't wait for an answer. She didn't need one, as she had said. I did. Once again, she broke eye contact. "Love is never selfless, Mark. There is no love without some pleasure. Do you agree?" I nodded my assent. "Do you remember being 10?" she asked, changing the subject. Her brows were raised in anticipation. "Sure," I said. "No," she responded. "I did not ask if you remembered having once been 10 years old. I asked if you remember *being* 10. Think about it. There's a difference." She leaned forward, grabbing her coffee mug with both hands, as if warming herself. "Did you feel 'only' 10 or did you feel..." she trailed off. "Alive," I said, finishing her sentence. Well, that didn't make any sense, did it? "Exactly. You weren't just a kid. But you didn't second guess everything. Everything was still magical, and you had dreams, and hopes, and fears. You were very much alive." She nodded to herself and set the coffee mug back on the table. "Did you feel childish or silly?" she asked. I shook my head. "The world we live in today," she said, "is very complicated. Es confundido. We try to break everything down into categories and make sense of everything. Even things which don't make sense." She scooted over to the other end of the couch, closer to me. "You love Adam, do you?" As difficult as it was, I looked into her piercing brown eyes. "I think I do." "You are mixing up thinking with loving," she said and laughed quietly. "I know my son, Mark. I allow him to be who he is, and not what I expect him to be. Not what the teachers tell me he should be." She stood, picking up her coffee cup and headed for the kitchen. As she passed by me, she paused. "Why don't you allow yourself the same? Think like a 10 year old, Mark." She patted my shoulder and then shuffled off to the kitchen. When she returned, I asked her "What is it you're getting at? Are you encouraging me to be with your son?" "I'm not getting at anything, Mark. And I'm not encouraging anything. Stop thinking so much." "And you support his loving me?" I asked. "And your loving him. I guess my own mortality..." she paused, wondering if she found the right word. I nodded. "Yes, my own mortality has changed my perspective on things. It has allowed me remember, truly remember being 10. My love for the friend of my mi hermano, my brother, was more real than anything I've ever known. And he loved me in return, though he was 7 years older. We were together for seven years before Adam's father, James, gave me the greatest gift I've ever received. My boy." My mouth must have been hanging open. "James was the gentlest lover. Not that I've ever known another. He never took from me. Only gave." She continued. "My family threw me out of the house when I was 13. They found out about us. My family loved me so much they threw their only daughter out of the house because I loved." "What happened to James?" Ana's eyes were moist now as she spoke. "My husband died when Adam was barely one year old. He was killed by a drunk driver." "I'm sorry for your loss," I said sincerely. "Thank you, Mark. I'm sorry, too. But don't spend your life sorry. That's not living." She was quiet for a moment for saying "You remind me very much of James." "I'm flattered," I said, and I was. And honored. She paused to collect her thoughts. "Mark, I need rest now," she said. "Thank you for this talk. I'm sorry I teased you so." She stood up, hunched over. "Go now. Find Adam." ------------------------------------------------------------------------ To be continued... ------------------------------------------------------------------------