Date: Thu, 20 Sep 2001 20:26:34 +0000
From: Darren Talbot <davidtalbot50@hotmail.com>
Subject: gay male/ adult youth/ the library chapter four

the library
chapter 4

*authors note: Thanks to everyone who's written to express appreciation and
encouragement. You guys have been great! While I may not get back to each
and every one of you, I have read each email that's come to me, and thank
you for them. As always, questions and comments are always welcome.

*All the standard warnings about local laws and reminders that this is a
work of fiction apply.



chapter 4:

His delicate pressure still against me, my cum drying on my underwear. His
head against my shoulder. The sound of his breathing.

"There's a lot you don't know about me." Josh said.

"But I want to learn." I said. With that orgasm, I had abandoned all
barriers that were there. I realized that it was against the law, against
the moral code I thought I'd had, but I felt complete for the very first
time since I was fourteen. And now? I was Mort. I wondered if he'd ever felt
like this, but had kept himself from doing these things because of his own
devout Judaism.

Josh's head came up off my shoulders and his eyes cut into me. He was
sounding me out with his eyes.

"Do you mean that?" He said, gravely serious all of a sudden.

I hesitated for a split second, which, apparently was long enough. His eyes
fell and he started to get up from my lap, saying "I knew it."

I grabbed his hipbones, feeling thier thin sharpness, saying "I do mean it.
I'm just...this is hard..."

He looked away and was still up on his knees. When he looked back, though,
he must have seen the look on my face. Seen how much I meant it, because he
let himself lower down to the chair again.

"Because I'm young?" He asked.

"You've had this conversation before, I see."  I said.

The corners of his mouth dropped some and his eyes relaxed, "yeah."

I pulled him to me, pushing his head down on my shoulder. His soft body
against me. His salty after sex smell in my nose.

"Alot?" I asked.

I felt his head move against my shoulder in a nod turned sideways.

"So, how long do you usually stay here when you come in?" I asked, changing
the subject.

"Until about six or so."

"Oh, so you're usually long gone by the time I get here in the mornings?"

"Unless I'm staying." He said.

"What?" I asked.

He leaned back, his ass pushing on my cock, already growing again, which was
unheard of in my former love life. And I was already beginning to think of
it as that.

"Sometimes I don't want to go home, so I stay."

"How?"

"In the attic, " he said, pointing to the crawlspace ladder in the corner of
my office, near the back door.

I was completely floored. Marvelling at his ingenuity, I said "It must get
awful hot up there."

He grinned that grin that I still think about to this day, and said "Nah. I
just watch you."

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"Promise you won't get mad?" He asked.

"All I can do is try."

He got up off my lap and took my hand. His lithe naked body moving with it's
feminine grace, he led me to the makeshift counter I used as a cash register
stand. He pointed straight up and there I saw it where I never had before; a
hole in the ceiling about two inches in diameter. I have no idea how it had
escaped my notice. He was leaning back against the wall, touching his
stomach with his hand. And looking defiantly pleased with himself that way
that only young teenage boys can. A million questions spun through my head.

"It doesn't get all that hot up there, and I bought a fan. I get a lot of
reading done, up there." He said.

I stepped toward him and touched his soft face. He closed his eyes.

"Why here? Why my shop?"

His features grew very still, and fell some. I can't even describe how it
hurt me to see that. I hadn't ever felt that much pain just from a small
thing like that before ever.

"You don't remember me, do you?"He said, his voice full of silence.

I felt, just then that I would do anything to make him feel good again, but
how? I couldn't lie to him.

"Book talk." He said, as if firing one last shot, hoping that I'd get it.
Still, I didn't remember and it made me feel like a monster.

"Book talk. I was in fourth grade. You brought a stand and some books to the
school. Mrs. Dammon was my teacher then, too, and she knew you. You brought
books that we could buy for a dollar."

Suddenly, I did remember. That had been so long ago, though, and so many
things had happened since then.

"And I had a dollar. I'd had to swipe it from dad's wallet, but I was so
excited about having a book all of my own. Mrs. Dammon had tons of them
always in the room and we could read them all we wanted to and even check
them out...and I always wanted to check one out..." He trailed off. He was
turned facing me, still, but his eyes were dim. Somewhere else.

"Why couldn't you check one out?" I asked.

He laughed one bitter, little laugh, then said "My dad hates books. He
thinks that they think for people; when you read, he says, you are letting
someone else steer the car," He said, the switched into a deep voice
imitation of his father, I assumed "Nosireebob, not for me or mine. We think
for ourselves, boy."

I pulled him to me. I still couldn't see what this had to do with me, but I
wanted to comfort him so badly, still, from how I'd hurt him by not
remembering how he was connected.

"I wanted a book all for my very own. And you came with your cart. I think
it was that one, over there." He said, pointing to the one I'd seen him
browsing on that Friday. When my life had changed.

"I think it was." I replied. His thin shoulders under my arm, feeling his
breathing against my own. His heard thudding fiercely.

"You came and I had a dollar, but I wanted all of the books. I asked you if
you would pick one out for me, and you told me that I had to do that,
because picking a book was a very personal thing...a very grownup thing. And
I cried."

Suddenly it did come rushing back to me. A very small boy for his age. Those
same eyes. Him crying and turning away and walking outside.

"I walked after you." I said.

He looked up at me, his face lighting. At that moment, I felt that there was
nothing that was impossible to me. He believed in me, again.

"I walked after you and stopped you and asked you why you were crying and
you said.."

"I said that I was a dummy because I couldn't do it." he said, his fingers
ever so slight on my upper arms.

"And I told you that we could walk back inside, and I would tell you about
each and every one until you knew which one you wanted."

"And you did. Ever last one that I picked up, you told me about. You weren't
impatient with me, and you didn't call me any names."

"And you picked," I said, drawing the moment out, his face caught by mine,
waiting, waiting "20,000 Leagues Under the Sea."

Tears lept to his eyes in that instant, and I was crushed by his arms. I
remembered that it had taken about thirty minutes for him to select that
book, all the while I'd had to deal with other children just picking books
because they liked the cover, or because thier mothers had sent lists with
them. Josh (whose name I hadn't known at the time) had listened to me read
him the breif summary on the back of each book, sometimes having to come
back to one that had been discarded earlier, and, finally, he'd decided on
Captain Nemo NAUTILUS as his ship. And I had remembered wondering if I would
ever see that boy again.

"I love you, Daniel." He said, crying, sniffling.

And I leaned in, and kissed him. There are several types of kisses in the
world, those of passion, those of greeting, but this one was one of two
people meeting again after a long absence to discover love still smoldering
within them.

"I love you, too." I said, back to him. And for the first time in my life,
save once, to that point, I meant it.


-end chapter four-

more to come!