Date: Sat, 16 Feb 2002 20:27:51 -0500
From: Tom Cup <tom_cup@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Innocents by Richard Dean - Part 1 Chapter 7 Gay - A/Y

The Innocents by Richard Dean
Copyright 2001, 2002 by the Paratwa Partnership: A Colorado Corporation. All
rights reserved.

No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any
means electronic or mechanical, except in the case of reviews, without
written permission from the Paratwa Partnership, Inc, 354 Plateau Drive,
Florissant, CO 80816

This is a fictional story involving youth/youth or adult/youth sexual
relationships. If this type of material offends you, please do not read any
further. This material is intended for mature adult audiences. Names,
characters, locations and incidents are either the product of the author's
imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events or
locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
************************************************************************

This story is part of the Tom Cup Library and may be accessed at
http://tomcup.iscool.net or at http://www.eroscities.com

Also available at the Tom Cup Library:

The Innocents Part 3 Chapter 3 Added 02/16
Calvin Part 3 Chapter 32 Added 02/10
Of Our Teenage Years Chapter 2 Added 02/09
David's Christmas Present - Ch. 18 Added 01/31
In Memory of Steve Chapter 6 Added 01/29
Kevin Part 3 - Donna Chapter 3 Added 01/28
Terms of Living Chapter 8 Added 01/27
Age Before Beauty Chapter 1 Added 01/26
Stephen Miller's Journal Chapter 8 Added 01/21
A Place Called Home Chapter 9 Added 12/30
Private Lessons Chapter 1 Added 12/15

Coming Soon to The Tom Cup Library of Sites: Bob Nelson's Gay Vikings!
Featuring the serial: Bagboy!

For a complete list of Series and Short Stories Available, Visit
http://tomcup.iscool.net

**********************************************************************
The Innocents
By Richard Dean
Part One
Chapter 7
My Absence

After a 2-month period of continual work our research vessel had docked at
the Municipal Pier in Fortaleza the evening prior to my return for my
1-month leave.  I found that a number of things could prevent me from making
advance plane reservations.  In the past, I had made advance reservations
only to cancel out due to bad weather, which forced us to remain at sea to
ride out the storms, or because we could not pull away from a job, because
we were in the middle of a scientific regimen that necessitated us staying
on station until the exercise was completed.  Then we would return to port
for fuel, water, and replenishment of food.  Learning my lessons the hard
way, I usually checked into a hotel, rested a day, and left the following
day to return to Rio.

As I was packing my valise, I thought back on my two-month absence from my
lover, Toninho and friend, Paulo who remained in Rio during my absence.
Until the mails started flowing with regularity, things on the home front
weren't running smoothly.  The letters came with frequency from both Paulo
and then with little notes included from Toninho, as he was practicing
English more regularly since Paulo was a strict taskmaster to his pupil.  As
we all do when learning another language, we tend to speak and write in the
first person singular: I want, you want, they want.

"Pae, I go shop today.  Paulo go for work.  I more hard tri study.  I make
wash cloths.  I love Pae."

As simple as those little notes were, they brought floods of love and tears
flowing through my heart, mind and soul.  I know how difficult it can be to
learn English which may be one of the toughest languages in the world to
learn, because of the various ways to spell words which sound the same; i.e.
dew/due/do, way/weigh, cue/queue .  When the ending of words are spelled the
same but pronounced differently; i.e. cough, rough, bough, through, is
especially difficult.  English is not a pure language.  It has borrowed,
stolen, and/or interpreted foreign words from most countries of the world.
The root of English is Germanic in sound and diction, however its base is
generally that of Latin (Old Roman).   It can drive a student to the point
of throwing their hands up in frustration and confusion.  It is a daunting
task.

My little man, stayed with his assigned task.  Not without some moments of
futility, but as Paulo reported to me, Ton soon got his composure reined
back in, and toughed it out.  Every lesson seemed harder, day by day.  In
our home, we used three languages principally.  English, Portuguese and
Spanish.  It was usually a mixture of all, when trying to explain a point to
Toninho.  Toninho especially hated it when Paulo and I would chat back and
forth in English.  He felt he was left out of the equation, or perhaps, he
felt we may have been negatively talking about him.  Because of his stubborn
determination, he was going to learn English if it "killed him".  I suspect,
at times, he felt it was killing him.

Paulo had suggested in one of his letters, that when we spoke English
between each other, to try to speak in simple sentences, so that Toninho
would be able more fully to comprehend.  He could also add his simple
comments to our conversation that way, which would prod him on with greater
alacrity and interest to his studies.  I wrote Paulo (and Toninho) back and
told him that I agreed with him and thanked him for being so astute and once
again, for being "my rock" in our friendship, without whom I would have
suffered greatly.  We assisted each other as living dictionaries when we
couldn't remember or didn't know a particular word or phrase in whichever
language we were speaking.  I, naturally, wanted to speak Portuguese while
in Brazil.  Paulo wanted to speak English for the most part, to retain his
fluency.  So we were conciliatory to each other's desires.  We returned our
answer in the language which was first spoken to us.  Paulo was also fluent
in French and German.  What a guy!  A true linguist.  His friendship has
been and is more valued to me than any other I have made in my lifetime, to
date.  He adds the correct amount of piquant spice to my life's stew.  He
denies it, but I think him my mental equal.  And he could easily grace the
cover of GQ, while I might find space on the inside back cover of the Yellow
Pages.

Of the three cities of Brazil which I find most intriguing and exhilarating,
Fortaleza is my first choice over Rio de Janeiro and Recife.  Each of them
have their own personalities and appeal.  If ever I decide to retire, I
could make no better choice than Fortaleza.  A city of approximately 2
million people, she has a "small town" atmosphere.  She presents her layout
in a convenient grid pattern.  The center lies above the old historical
section and includes the Mercado Central (Central Market), the Catedral do
Seand, major shopping streets and government buildings.  East of the center
are the beaches (praias) of Praia de Iracema and Praia do Ideal; then
continuing eastwards, Avenida Presidente Kennedy links Praia do Diario and
Praia do Meireles, which are lined with high-rise hotels and restaurants,
and shops.   Beyond here are Porto do Mucuripe (the port) and the Farol
Velha (Old Lighthouse).  Praia do Futuro begins at the lighthouse and
extends 5km southwards along Avenida Dioguinho to the Clube Caca e Pesca
(Hunting and Fishing Club).

Fortaleza spreads her arms in a warm inviting welcome to one and all.  She
does not snub her nose at her visitors, guests, or residents.  On the whole
she cares little if you are of a different sexual orientation than the usual
heterosexual.  She is a city that is gay friendly and supportive.  As a
mother she wants only that her children be happy, well fed and accomodious
to others.  Her beaches, breezes, lively night life, rhythmic melodies, and
regional dishes speak a welcome to the tired, the footsore with a message:
Come, rest, drink, eat, dance, smile, sing, be at peace while I mind and
tend you.  She massages you, embraces you with the smiles and contentment of
her citizenry.  She accepts you.  You are one with her, alive and warm in
the strength of her comforting arms and ample bosum.


The first time I came to Fortaleza, I had been traveling the interior of the
country and unknowingly had become infected with what had later been
diagnosed as Dengue Fever.  Upon arrival to that fair city I checked into
The Hotel of the Americas.  The first day I was there, I was not feeling
well, slight headache, sweating, a bit of upset stomach, but did lots of
walking along the Av'da Kennedy and spent a lazy afternoon under an open-air
hut (barraca=ba-HA-ca) resting and had a couple of beers, watching the
bathers, playing and cavorting along the beach, with music drifting from a
radio nearby.  At dinnertime, I felt absolutely foul.  I was so weak I could
barely walk cross the beach to the Avenida.  I hailed a taxi and took it
back to my hotel, whereupon, I showered and went immediately to bed.  For
the next two days, I stayed mostly in bed, while making frequent shuffled
steps to the bathroom.  On the third day, I was in total fever, raging
headache, swollen joints, and so weakened I could not lift myself from my
bed as my bowels became so loose that I had soiled myself.  I lay there in
misery.  By noontime, the maid knocked and when could hear no answer entered
and discovered my condition, whereupon she contacted her supervisor and
manager.  He came into my room, and asked me in English about my condition.
I replied as best as I could mutter.  He called the owner of the Hotel, who
came immediately from his finca (ranch) into town, rushed into my room, saw
my condition, and told me he would call his doctor to come to attend me
immediately.  He instructed two maids, to clean me, bathe me, change the bed
linens, anything they could do to ease my suffering.

Those ladies were the gentlest, respectful, and thoughtful nurses one could
hope to imagine.  They cleaned me as if I were a baby, except they did not
diaper me.  One of them was with me at all times, while the other was
attending to stocking up on clean linens, washing/drying my underclothes,
cleaning and scouring the bathroom, and speaking soothing words of
Portuguese, which at that time, I could understand little, to ease my
trepidation.

The doctor arrived, examined me thoroughly and professionally, and told me
in English he thought it was Dengue Fever, but took a blood sample with him,
and left and said he would be back twice each day to check on me.  He did
exactly that.  His instructions to my erstwhile nurses were to bathe me,
regularly, change the linens each time I awakened if I slept.  He gave me
painkillers for my killer headaches, shots of Vitamin K, to build up the
clotting factor.  I could ingest only cocoanut water for the first three
days.  By the end of week one, I was still abed.  I was feeling somewhat
better, had lost about 15 pounds, and could ingest only clear soup and toast
and cocoanut water.

By week two, I was ambulatory and could get to the bathroom without
assistance from one of my nurses who was in constant view except when the
door was closed.  They alternated shifts to watch and tend for me.  All the
while with good humor and loving smiles and assurances that all would be
well.  I was a well-pampered "Yanqui fuerzo bonito" (Strong, handsome
Yankey) and would be well before I could say "Meeki Moouse".  During my
second and third weeks in that hotel room, I watched more Brazilian
television than I could have imagined.  I was starting to understand what
the cartoon characters were saying, the newscasters were making sense to me,
and the serial daytime dramas began to interest me in their plotlines.

The only English that was spoken in those three and a half weeks were from
the doctor, who by the 2nd and 3rd weeks was attending me once daily and
only for minutes each time.  The rest of the time was forced Portuguese, day
and night.  I found I did not have to rely so much on translating mentally
in English to speak Portuguese or even to understand it.  I could now start
forming my thoughts in Portuguese automatically.  My vocabulary was limited,
but was learning more and more each day.  I was a captive audience.  At the
end of the 3rd week, I was walking around the block for exercise, but one of
my nurses was with me all of the time.  Fortunately, I had almost fully
recovered from my near death experience with a mosquito borne deadly plague
that kills more than 20,000 yearly.

To this day, no other hotel within Fortaleza will get my business.  Neither
of those two ladies works for the hotel any longer, but when I go to
Fortaleza, I look them up and bring them both gifts of Avon Skin-So-Soft,
which they love.  When I went down to the front desk to pay my bill and
leave generous tips for the "above and beyond the call of duty" service I
had received.  Not one would accept the tip.  My hotel bill was for the
original expense of one week, as I had intended to stay.  Subsequently I
sent the owner a checque for $1000.00 to give out as Christmas bonuses to
those two adorable wonderful ladies, my angels.  Many Brazilians may be
poor, but they have dignity and CLASS---all upper!


I wasn't in my room ten minutes while I was arranging my toiletries in the
bathroom when a knock sounded at my door.

"Yes, what is it?" I inquired.

"Service de piece, Monsieur. Un paquet de la distribution special est arrive
pour vous."
(Room Service, Sir.  A special delivery package has arrived for you.)

"Merci. Un moment s'il vous plait."
(Thank you.  A moment please.)

Curious as to what that would be, I opened the door.  Toninho and Paulo
sprung into the room and wrapped themselves around me.  I was staggered
several steps back with the force of two bodies colliding with me, while my
mind came into focus that the two most important people in my life were
there in front of me, encapsulating me.  The combinative weight of my
captors forced me to collapse onto the floor.  They followed as if attached
with duct tape.  We were on the floor, groveling about as children at play,
kissing each other, hugging, and arms wrapped akimbo to each body for some
type of purchase.  We were talking at once, yelling, giggling, a cacophonous
sound to the ear of anyone listening, I am certain.  I could only understand
bits and pieces of conversation as two blended into one roar of confusion.

"Stop!  Stop!  Stop!" I demanded.  Soon enough I could only ask "What in the
hell...how in the hell...how did you...when did...Okay, let me start again.  And
only one answer at a time please.  Explain this to me Paulo."  We all
separated from our pile and sat on the floor with legs folded in the Lotus
Position facing each other.  Toninho was holding on to me with the biggest
grin of conspiracy and deviltry I could ever imagine, while giggling, his
eyes flashing with mirth and brightness through the watery remains of his
tears.  Paulo explained as I grabbed onto Toninho and held him tightly while
kissing his face and hair.  With my right hand I held on to Paulo's left
hand.

"A week and a half ago, Toninho and I were talking about what we could do to
celebrate your return.  Toninho suggested that now that we had Herbie, why
not drive up to Fortaleza and meet you at the dock when your ship arrives at
the Port.  I told him I thought not, that it would be too expensive.  He
argued that one of the reasons we got Herbie was not only for
transportation, but we could sleep in him at night or when we got tired and
then keep traveling onward until we got to Fortaleza.  The more we thought
of this, we agreed we would do it.  So we packed up Herbie with what we
decided we would need on this trip.  We locked up the apartment, and started
driving northward.  We got here two days ago, checked into this hotel, since
you mentioned it would be the only place you would ever stay in Fortaleza.
We talked to the Manager and convinced him that we wanted to surprise you
and asked him to help us by not informing you of our arrival or let you in
on the surprise.  We waited and waited.  Finally the Manager told us your
ship was being tied up at the dock, and you would probably be here within an
hour or two after the ship cleared customs and health check.  In the
meanwhile Toninho remembered Herbie was out in the parking lot, so I had to
run out there and move him to the back to hide him.  After you left the
Manager at the desk, he called us here and told us to get out of the room as
you were on your way up.  Voila.  Surprise!!!"

"Yesss!" yelled Toninho and he jumped back on me, with Paulo following.
Once again we resumed our pummeling, playing and crying for joy and glee.  I
could not have been happier nor more surprised as my dear friend and lover
were both in my arms once again.  It may have looked like a free-for-all
tag-team wrestling match, but we didn't care.  We were together...a
family...still.

About 10 minutes later the telephone blared its intrusive ringing.  Paulo
arose and said, "I'll get it.  Hello.  Yes...yes, we'll be there within
minutes...yes, thank you."  Placing the handset on the receiver, he
announced to us, "Lunch is being served, gentlemen.  Shall we go?"

I looked from Toninho to Paulo somewhat confused.  The restaurant never had
called before to announce that lunch was ready.  We arose from the floor and
rearranged our clothing and left to go down to the restaurant.  Neither of
my chaps said anything to me about the strange turn of events.  As we were
walking through the lobby, I stopped off at the desk and with a broad smile
remarked to Beto Perreira, the Manager, "You were in on this, weren't you
Beto, you dog, you!"  I reached across the desk to shake his hand and as he
welcomed me with his hand he said,

"Ricardo, how could I refuse your wonderful son?  He has captured all of our
hearts with his generous spirit and eagerness to welcome you back.  Woes
betide anyone who would refuse him -- those eyes, his love, pride, and
respect for you -- we are all his captives, my friend.  You are a fortunate
man!"

"Thank you Beto, from the bottom of my heart, I appreciate your generous
words."

Turning away from the desk I returned to my two escorts who were waiting
somewhat impatiently I noted, to continue into the restaurant.  Paulo and
Toninho raced ahead of me by two steps and each took one of the French doors
and opened them simultaneously and with a slight bow bade me enter.  On
entry into the foyer of the restaurant I saw ahead of me a large buffet
spread out on two tables, lights were dimmed, candles were burning on each
table.  There were no customers in sight, but behind me I heard the sound of
clapping, music suddenly started playing, and then I saw coming out of
another door, a stream of staff, local acquaintances and friends of mine
from years past, and following them were my two "angels" dressed to the
nines, my nurses, my friends, my caretakers.  They all merged in and around
me touching me, shaking my hand, as I swept my dear lovely "angels' in my
arms and hugged and kissed them.  We were all crying softly, happy to be in
a reunion once again.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, may I have your attention please."  I turned around
astonished to hear the voice of my Son, Toninho.  Could this be him, my
Toninho? I thought.  What is he up to?  "I present to you with great pride
and affection, the return of my Father, Senhor Ricardo Dean.  I thank each
and every one of you for your rapid response to my plea to assist me to
welcome him home."  He turned bowing in obeisance,  "And to our lady
`Angels' who saved my Father's life, I am deeply indebted to you.  This is
an informal affair, so please help yourselves to the buffet and refreshments
at your leisure.  Thank you!"

There was applause and murmurs of complimentary comments about Toninhos
gracious welcoming comments and how he took charge of the event.  I could
not have been more proud of him than at that moment.  Naturally, I looked to
Paulo and thanked him for his assistance in coaching my ward in the social
graces.  I noticed Paulo bend down and whisper in Toninho's ear and saw
Toninho race out of the restaurant, to where I hadn't a clue.  I returned my
attention back to friends as they came up and welcomed me back and made
small talk and friendly comments about Toninho copying his Dads' civility
and ability to speak among friends and strangers alike.  Again my pride
swelled to outrageous dimension.

Today my little man has grown up.  He has shown he can have a place in this
world and can handle most situations without falling apart, I thought.  I am
indebted to Paulo, for his care and supervision of my boy as if he were a
second father, I concluded.

Toninho returned, huffing and puffing as if he had been running and then had
to put on the brakes to come to a screeching halt once he attained near my
presence.

My little grown up could also be a young boy with little thought too, at
times.  How special he is.  Thanks be to God! I prayed.

"Pae", he whispered handing me two packages, "your presents for the
`Angels".

"No Toninho, those are our gifts to our `Angels', I retorted.

"Ladies, please accept these as tokens of our affection and respect." he
said as he proffered the Avon products.  Our "Angels" gushed and nearly
devoured Toninho in hugs and kisses and praising my boy for his manners and
thoughtfulness.

The party was a great success.  Beto made certain each of the staff on duty
had a minimum of half an hour to enjoy the buffet, refreshments and could
mingle with the guests and myself at will.  When one of them had to return
for their duty, another would step in and take their place.  It was
wonderfully democratic and so civil

Looking about me from time to time, I would notice that Paulo was absent
from the room.  As I made my rounds, I would find him in the lobby talking
with Beto and noticed that there seemed to be a comfort level between their
conversations.  When Beto would be busy at the counter or called to the
telephone, Paulo would return to our party and look about to see if his two
charges were in good stead.  He would then do an about face and return to
the lobby and resume his conversation with Beto.  I could see that the
conversation was not a seriously leveled one as they smiled and laughed.

Toninho on the other hand, was being a gracious host, stopping off within
small groups and asking if all were well with them, could he get them
something or thanking them for coming.  Bit by bit the crowd thinned out as
the time neared 5 pm.  We gave our farewells to all of the hangers on, while
Toninho escorted the "Angels" out of the hotel, opened the taxi door for
them, and paid the driver in advance as he waved his goodbyes to them as
they departed.  Toninhos' 15th birthday was soon coming up.  He was
advancing to adulthood.

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