Date: Fri, 25 Dec 2009 09:44:44 +0200
From: Tristan Deveraux <zanatio@hotmail.com>
Subject: Wrestling with Demons chapter 2

Author's note: In November last year, I submitted the first chapter of a
story called Wrestling With Demons to Nifty. Here, now, over a year later,
is chapter two! Apologies for taking so long to get this chapter submitted,
but this little thing called life happened in-between last November and
now!

As mentioned in my note to chapter one, please be aware that this is not a
story about sex, though there will most likely be some minor
sexually-related situations in later chapters, so if you're hoping to blow
your load reading this story, you're in for disappointment and should find
another story to read.

This story is copyright by me, Zanatio, in November 2008, so please don't
go stealing my work and passing it off as your own as that's not very nice!

Finally, I'd appreciate feedback from readers. I'd like to know what you
think of the story so I can decide if it's worthwhile carrying on with it
or not. You can mail me on zanatio@hotmail.com.

Wrestling With Demons - Chapter 2

About ten minutes after Jen and Josh had left, I was still sitting on my
couch, sipping my Coke, listening to my ABBA CD and thinking about the boy
I now lived next-door to. I could imagine what some of the guys on the
boylover forum that I was a member of would say if I told them about him:
go for it, you can get into his pants easily if you play your cards right;
he's probably desperate for a guy to screw him; he sounds ripe for
seduction. I shivered as I thought about it, and wondered again why I kept
going back to that website. Sure it was good to talk to other guys who
understood what I was going through, but hearing some guys talk about
seducing boys and grooming them for sex as if it were no worse than going
out for dinner honestly made me feel sick to my stomach. I couldn't deny
that I felt SOMETHING for Josh the instant I'd laid eyes on him - which was
what usually happened every time I saw a boy - but there was no way I'd
even consider seducing him or grooming him for sex. I was not that kind of
person, and never would be. If any kind of relationship did develop somehow
between him and me - and I seriously hoped one didn't because I didn't
trust myself when it came to my feelings for boys and was scared they'd
make me do something I knew I shouldn't - I'd make sure it was well within
the boundaries of a normal adult/child relationship. The kid had just
recently lost his father anyway, and so pretending to befriend him just so
I could get into his pants would be tantamount to betrayal. I knew I
couldn't do that. I owed it to myself and to him to do the right thing.


Despite my feelings of compassion for Josh, I couldn't deny that seeing him
and thinking about him had made me horny, which also usually happened when
I saw a boy. I wanted to ignore the feeling - in fact, I hated myself each
and every time I felt it! - but I knew that seeing him later would only
fuel my lust further, so I decided to jack-off before I went to dinner to
purge my system of the sexual tension plaguing me so it wouldn't bother me
when I saw him again. Since my internet wasn't connected yet I wouldn't be
able to access the erotic stories I liked to read when I masturbated, so I
went to my room, lay on my bed, closed my eyes and started stroking. It
didn't take long for me to build up to my usual boring orgasm, and when I
was done I was glad that I'd gotten rid of my sexual tension, but angry at
myself for once again fantasizing about boys. I asked myself for the
umpteenth time why I was like this, and as usual I couldn't find an answer,
so I gave up thinking about it and decided to take a shower.


I went to the bathroom and closed the door, then decided to open it again
when I remembered there was no-one else around and thus no need to keep it
closed. That would take some getting used to! I turned the water on,
undressed and stepped under the warm spray. To my delight I noticed that
the water came out a lot more powerfully than at my parent's house, but
that was probably because my dad had installed a water-saving showerhead
that restricted the water flow and consequently saved water. He was always
doing things like that, trying to do his bit for the environment.


As I luxuriated under the relaxing spray and enjoyed the feel of the water
washing over my hair and body, I wondered what my parents were doing and if
they were thinking about me. I felt another pang of homesickness as I
pictured my dad watching TV and my mom making supper and thought about how
I'd used to get home and play computer games all evening, but I forced
myself to get over it, knowing that I'd only start questioning my decision
to move out yet again which would make me depressed. So I took a deep
breath and turned my thoughts away from my parents and my old home and just
focused on the water running down my body.


When I was done I hopped out the shower and started drying myself
off. There was a small cabinet above the sink with a mirror on the door,
and I eyed myself critically in it. I was still bothered by the state of my
body. I was by no means a sexy or even good-looking guy, at least in my
eyes. I was a little over six feet tall and had more fat than muscle on
me. I'd been going to gym on and off for almost a year, but that hadn't
seemed to have helped get rid of or even lightly reduce my Coke-belly (most
guys seem to pick up a beer-belly as they get older; I didn't drink beer
and preferred Coke, and I'd drank so much Coke that I'd picked up a
Coke-belly!) My hair was a fairly standard shade of brown and I liked to
wear it a little longer than would be considered neat and respectable; I
guess that was the rebel in me trying to get out! Other than that, there
wasn't really much more to my physical appearance, except for the fact that
I wore glasses when I drove or watched TV. I was about as plain as a guy
could get.


When I was finished drying myself off, I walked naked to my room - that
would also take some getting used to! - and dug some clothes out of my
cupboard. After I'd put them on I went back to the bathroom and tried to
comb my wet hair into something resembling an appealing hairstyle. It
didn't work well; I'd never had very co-operative hair. So I just combed it
to one side and then left it, knowing my fringe would form its own usual
little twirl as my hair dried.


I put my watch on and checked the time: just after 6:30. I still had about
30 minutes before I had to be at Jen's, so I went back to my computer and
loaded up the latest Tomb Raider game, Legend, and got into the business of
helping Lara kick butt.


Time always seemed to go faster when I played games, so it felt like the 30
minutes were gone in just 5. Nevertheless, my watch indicated it was 7pm,
so I saved my game, exited it and turned my computer off. Before I got up,
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, telling myself to try not look
at Josh too much while I was with him, because I knew it would just make me
feel horrible. At the same time, I didn't want to appear rude towards him
or Jen, although the thought of not talking to either of them again was
briefly appealing. I sighed, and tried to clear my head of all the
conflicting thoughts, then I got up, turned on some lights, headed outside
and closed and locked the door.


I walked down the corridor to Jen's door and pushed her buzzer. A few
seconds later the door opened, and I saw it was Josh who'd opened it. He
looked up at me with a blank expression, but for a second his eyes searched
mine, and I suddenly felt like he could instantly see right into my soul,
into the deepest, most secret part of me, and tell as plain as day that I
was a boylover who couldn't help having feelings of lust for him. I almost
took an involuntary step backwards as these thoughts raced through my mind,
but then I quickly reminded myself that they were ridiculous thoughts and
he couldn't possibly know about me. Still, seeing him there looking up at
me, knowing he didn't - and wouldn't, and couldn't - know who I truly was,
sent a shiver down my spine as I realized how big this secret I hid from
the world really was.


Some part of me, though - the part not suddenly paralyzed by my paranoid
fear of my secret being discovered - took over, and I'd blurted out, "Hi
Josh", before I even knew what I was going to say to him.


"Hi", he replied in a tone that sounded like he was rather bored and not
really too pleased to see me. Then I heard his mom call brightly, "Hi
Tristan, come in!" and he stepped aside to let me enter. He closed the door
behind me and then, paying me no more attention, walked over to the couch
he'd obviously been sitting in before I arrived, plonked down onto it,
pulled his legs up so he was sitting cross-legged and returned to the book
he'd been reading.


I took a brief look around and noted that the flat was almost a mirror
image of my own: the front door opened into the lounge with a small kitchen
and dining area beyond that, while the short passage to the bathroom and
what I assumed were two bedrooms to my flat's one was to the left instead
of the right as in my house. Jen's house, however, had a deep aquamarine
carpet everywhere except the kitchen, which was tiled in white like
mine. The walls were painted a similar colour to the carpet, and a few
paintings and what I guessed were family pictures adorned them. A small
aquarium stood on a stand in one corner of the lounge, bringing back
memories of the aquarium my older brother had kept when we were kids. It
even contained some of the same fish my brother had had!


As I looked around, it quickly became obvious that Jen's husband must've
had a fairly well-paid job, as evidenced by the two three-seater black
leather couches facing a large polished wooden entertainment unit that
housed a big-screen TV, a DVD player, an expensive-looking Samsung audio
system and an Xbox console and controllers. I felt a moment's pity for Jen
and Josh as I realized what they must've had to give up after her husband
passed away. Still, I didn't get a sense of arrogance as I looked around,
nor did Jen strike me as anything other than a kind and soft-spoken woman.


I looked toward the kitchen area and saw Jen setting cutlery onto a small
table. She looked up at me with a smile and said, "Dinner will be ready
soon. Make yourself comfortable."


"Thanks," I replied, and I walked past Josh to sit in the second couch. I
smiled to myself as I sank into its relaxing embrace and ran a hand
admiringly over the leather. Then I suddenly felt eyes on me, and I looked
up at Josh and caught him peeking at me over his book. He quickly dropped
his eyes back to his book, pretending nothing had happened, but I felt a
strange chill go through me as I got the distinct impression that he was
studying me. First at the door, now here in the lounge. I wondered what he
thought when he looked at me. Was he comparing me to his recently-departed
dad, perhaps? Or was he perhaps scared I might one day get involved with
his mom and take her away from him? I certainly wasn't quite sure what to
make of him. On one hand, he seemed aloof and distant, every bit a shy and
withdrawn little boy, while on the other hand I sensed a quiet intensity
about him, as if he were holding part of himself back for some reason. Of
course, given my lack of experience with kids, I was probably deluding
myself and seeing things that weren't even there. And what was I doing
thinking about him anyway when I'd told myself to try and have as little to
do with him as possible?


I shook my head briefly, trying to scatter my persistently confusing
thoughts, then I looked at Josh again and figured that, despite how
conflicted I felt when I looked at him and how I wished I hadn't moved in
next-door to a boy who would send my emotions on a crazy rollercoaster
every time I saw him, I couldn't be rude and just ignore him. I'm not that
kind of person. So, even though part of me resisted, I asked Josh what I
figured was a universally acceptable question to ask children: "So how old
are you Josh?"

"Eleven and three-quarters," he muttered without much enthusiasm and
without looking up.

"Oh," I said. "Got a birthday coming up soon then?"

"Mm-hmm," he replied, again without looking up.

'Well this isn't going too well,' I thought to myself.

A few minutes of awkward silence punctuated by Jen's activity in the
kitchen followed before I tried again.

"What book are you reading?"

This time he didn't reply at all, but instead he turned the book so I could
see the cover: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. I wasn't a Harry fan
at all, but I did know that the book was the sixth in the series, and the
seventh and final book would be coming out soon.

"You reading it to get ready for the last one?" I persisted.

But again no reply, except for a small nod and a flickering of his eyes to
mine. 'Ok,' I thought, 'so he's not very talkative. Well, at least I
tried.' That thought didn't help me feel any more comfortable with the
situation though.


Fortunately my discomfort didn't last long, as Jen appeared next to the
couch and said, "Ok, dinner is served. Would you like me to dish up for you
or do you want to do it yourself?"

"It's alright, you can do it," I told her as I stood up. "I'll eat whatever
you give me."

"That's a dangerous statement to make!" she said jokingly. "You've not even
tried my cooking yet!"

"I'm sure it'll be wonderful," I said with a smile as I walked over to the
table.

Jen looked at her son and told him, "Come Josh, let's all sit at the
table."

I glanced over my shoulder at Josh and noted how unhappy he seemed to be as
he stood up and wandered over to the table. It bothered me that it was
probably because of me that he was uncomfortable. But again I caught him
glancing at me briefly and almost quizzically as we sat down and his mom
dished up for us.

"Well, eat up then," Jen told us both once we all had a plate in front of
us and she'd sat down, "and I hope you enjoy it!" Her words were probably
meant more to break the awkward silence that had formed than to implore us
to start eating.

I smiled at her then started eating, and to my delight found her recipe was
almost identical to my mom's, though she used a fair amount more pepper
than my mom did. I told Jen this, which brought a grin to her face.

"So tell us a little about yourself Tristan," she asked before putting a
forkful of pasta into her mouth.

"There's not much to tell," I replied, going a bit red as I did so. I
wasn't really that big a fan of small talk. "What do you want to know?"

"Well, what do you do for a living?"

"I'm an accountant, well more of a bookkeeper really, and I'm not actually
a CA."

"What's that?" Josh piped up.

"CA stands for chartered accountant, and they..."

No," Josh interrupted me, "what does an accountant do?"

I was momentarily put off by his interruption. Like I said, I wasn't a fan
of small talk! Plus, not having much experience with kids, I wasn't at all
sure how to explain things in a way that an eleven year old would
understand, or even how to talk to him at all!

"Well," I began, "an accountant is someone who works with numbers and money
and makes sure everything balances."

"What's that mean?" Josh interrupted again. He was a tenacious little
bugger! And I was starting to get uncomfortable and felt more and more than
I'd make a fool of myself in front of Jen, who was watching me a little too
intently for my liking.

"Well, um, it means that I look at the money in the company and, um, check
that it's all right and that everything, um, balances." I could felt my
cheeks burning as I realized I'd repeated what I'd already told him. He
probably thought I was a complete idiot now, and I wanted to melt into the
floor.

"Oh," he remarked, then took a mouthful of macaroni. He chewed thoughtfully
for a while then swallowed and said, "Mom is a secretary at a big law
company."

I opened my mouth to speak, glad at the change in topic away from me, then
realized my throat had gone bone dry, so I hastily swallowed to wet it
again and asked Jen, "Which company would that be?"

"Jacobson and Partners," she told me. "They're in Rosebank."

The suburb she mentioned was not that far away, though I'd never heard of
the law firm. "It's nice that your work is pretty close."

"Yes it is. I've not been there very long, though. I had to get a job when
Mark died." Her voice faded away on the last words, and I raised my eyes to
meet hers. Deep pain shone very clearly in them. It was obvious her grief
over her husband's death was still fresh. Then she quickly composed herself
and asked me, "Where did you live before you moved here?"

"I lived with my parents, actually, in Meadowridge." Inwardly I cringed at
my answer. I hated telling people that I still lived with my parents when I
was well into my 20s.

"Wow," Josh said with a strange look on his face, "weren't you a bit old to
still live with your parents?"

"Josh!" Jen scolded him. "That was rude!"

"Sorry," Josh mumbled and again I felt uncomfortable at being the cause of
his rebuke.

"Actually, you're right Josh," I said after a moment. "But I just couldn't
afford to move out until now. I had no friends I could share a place with,
and since I don't plan on ever getting married, there's no chance I'll move
in with a woman."

"You don't plan on ever getting married?" Jen sounded a little shocked at
my revelation. "Why not?"

I silently cursed myself for saying too much about my personal life. I
struggled to find the right words that would throw her off the trail but
would also not be lying, since I hated to lie.

"I'm just not that interested in relationships," I told her almost
apologetically. "I don't think I'd be any good in one, and I also have my
doubts of ever meeting someone nice."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Jen said diplomatically. "But I wouldn't give up
hope yet. You're still young. Maybe you'll still find someone."

"Maybe," I agreed, though inside I thought, Fat chance! I decided to
quickly change the subject away from what was for me a very sensitive and
delicate topic, and asked the first question that came into my mind.

"So what school do you go to Josh?"

"Robin Hills Primary," he replied neutrally.

I plunged on even though I knew he probably really wanted nothing to do
with me. "Are you enjoying it?"

"It's ok."

"Do you like your teachers?"

"They're ok, but some of 'em are horrible."

"Josh!" Jen exclaimed.

"It's true mom!" the boy persisted, his cheeks flushing slightly as he grew
more animated. "Remember that time I got detention in Mrs Pallin's class
cos I was looking out the window?" I smiled to myself as his words brought
back memories of my own school days and a similar experience I'd had.

"Yes, but that's because she says you do it a lot. You need to be more
attentive sweetheart," she told him gently.

"But she's so boring!"

"Maybe if she were your English teacher and not your science teacher, you'd
think differently of her." Jen glanced over at me. "English is his
favourite subject."

"And science sucks!"

Jen gave her son a look and said calmly, "No outbursts like that please
Josh. Especially not at the table, and especially not in front of guests."

Josh looked down at his food, his mood now completely dour, and muttered,
"Sorry."

I felt a pang of sympathy for Josh at being chastised so, and a feeling of
guilt crept through me as I figured it was partly my fault that it had
happened.


We ate in silence for a little while longer, until Josh quietly asked if he
could be excused. I glanced at him and noticed that he'd only eaten about
half the food on his plate. Jen let him go and instructed him to take a
bath, reminding him, as all mothers seem to do, to wash behind his ears. He
slipped out of his chair and walked past me without a look or a sound. I
felt terrible.

I was so lost in my feelings of guilt that I hadn't even realized that Jen
had said something.

"I'm sorry?" I said, red-faced.

"Oh, I was just talking to myself," she replied, her own cheeks going a
little red. She indicated Josh's plate. "I said that his appetite hasn't
been the same since Mark died."

"Oh," I said, unsure of anything else to say.

She stared at the unfinished food for a while. "A lot has changed since
Mark died," she added softly. "He used to be such an active boy. He had so
many interests, he was always outside playing with his friends. Now all he
does is play those TV games by himself. And he's started biting his
nails. And he's become so quiet! Most of the time it's like he's not even
there. I'm so worried about him..."

She trailed off and suddenly seemed to remember there was someone else
there listening to her. "Gosh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to go off like
that." Now her cheeks really were burning.

"It's ok," I said in what I hoped was a comforting voice. "I can imagine
how difficult this must be for you."

"It is hard," she admitted with a sigh. "I never dreamed something like
this would happen. When Mark and I first started going out, I always
thought we'd have a wonderful home with lots of kids and live happily ever
after. You know, the fairytale ending." A sad smile appeared on her
face. "Things didn't quite turn out how I expected." She went quiet for a
while and her eyes went a little distant, then suddenly she seemed to come
back to herself and her face grew brighter. "Well, enough about me. Tell me
more about yourself."

Instantly I grew nervous again. I hated it when people asked me about
myself, because there wasn't anything to say! "Well," I ventured, "like I
said before, there isn't much to tell. I've not led a very exciting life."
I felt so bad giving such a pathetic answer, but it was basically the
truth.

"Surely you've done something interesting," she pressed. "Do you have any
hobbies? I mean, what do you do in your spare time?"

"Mostly I play computer games." It was such a weak answer, so I added, "I
also like to go for walks on the beach when I can."

"Oh, that's nice. Do you have a favourite beach?"

"I quite like Sunny Cove. The wind is never too strong there, and it's a
nice walk from there to Clovelly and back again." I didn't say how I also
enjoyed getting glimpses of Speedo-clad young boys at that beach, then I
felt bad for thinking about it.

"Do you go with friends?"

"No, I prefer going by myself." That, and the fact that I didn't have any
friends. But I couldn't say that.

"Oh, you enjoy doing the loner thing?" Jen asked with a smile.

"Something like that," I replied with a smile of my own. "I like my own
company. Less chance of starting an argument!"  Jen laughed, then asked,
"Don't you get lonely on your own?"

Her question brought a fresh round of pain to my heart. Of course I was
lonely! I was desperately lonely. But I couldn't tell her that, either, so
instead I said simply, "Sometimes."

"You do strike me as the quiet, reflective type."

"Oh," I said, unsure of anything else to say to that.

"Not that that's a bad thing," she quickly clarified. "I can't say I'm a
fan of loud, boisterous people who rush around like they own the world."

"Oh me neither."

"Being quiet and reflective... I think there's a certain charm to that."

Again I felt at a loss for words, and my ears started to burn as I
struggled for something to say. "Sure," was the best I could come up with.

"Do you like kids?"

Her question was so totally out of the blue that it took me several seconds
to register it, but as soon as I did my guts instantly turned to ice and I
felt a cold sweat prickle all over my body. 'She knows!' a voice screamed
inside my head, and the voice grew louder when I noticed that Jen seemed to
be awaiting my response with a rather intense look on her face. It was all
I could do to keep from jumping up and rushing out the door in fear. It
then took several more seconds to realize that what she probably meant was,
did I enjoy spending time with kids and not, as my corrupt mind thought,
did I enjoy doing sexual things to kids. Once again I silently cursed
myself for being a boylover and my inability to change that. Fortunately
Jen didn't seem to notice my sudden panic, which brought me a small measure
of relief as it meant that I was probably being overly paranoid as usual
and that she hadn't seen right through me.

"Well," I croaked, then cleared my throat and continued, "they're ok, I
guess. I mean, I'm not really any good with kids. I don't have much
experience with them."

"Oh," she said. "Well, I just asked because, well, I just wanted to know if
I should tell Josh to stay out of your way or not. Not that I think you're
a bad person or anything," she added quickly. "I mean, some people just
don't like kids, you know? Like my neighbour on the other side. She's a
real cranky old thing. Lives all by herself and told me right to my face
when we moved in that she doesn't want to see or hear Josh at all. Says
that kids are all no good and full of nonsense."

"No, I don't have a problem with kids at all," I told her. "They're not so
bad, I just don't really know how to handle them is all. Josh doesn't need
to worry about me," I added, then suddenly regretted saying it as I
reminded myself that actually, he probably ought to fear me more than
anyone else because of who I was.

"I'm glad to hear that," Jen said. "It would be lovely if you and Josh
could be friends."

I wasn't sure it would be lovely at all, but I thought I heard a hint of
longing in Jen's voice that made me wonder if she wasn't perhaps hoping I
might become an important person in Josh's life and grow close to him. That
thought sent my mind spinning and I furiously tried to banish it before the
darker corners of my brain could get hold of it and twist and corrupt it.

"How did you and Mark meet?" I asked, hoping the change in subject would
help still my rampaging thoughts.

"We met in school, would you believe!"

"Really?" I knew few people who'd married someone they'd known at school.

"Yeah, we were in the same year, so we knew each other throughout high
school." She grinned as she recalled the memories.

"I'd always thought he was an arrogant, stuck-up pig, until I really got to
know him in grade 11. I like to think that I tamed him!" We both chuckled
at her comment.

"From then on," she continued, "we were inseparable, despite the fact that
we came from quite different backgrounds. I can't explain it; it was like a
moment of perfect clarity. I just knew that he was the one I was going to
spend my life with. He was funny and spontaneous and just a little bit
wild, and he almost literally swept me off my feet. We married practically
right out of school, which my parents said was a bit of a stupid thing to
do, but hey, you can't fight love, right? After school he went on to study
engineering and I did some waitressing, and both our parents helped us out
with money to rent a small apartment and make it a home."

"Didn't you also want to study?" I asked.

"I did at first, and my dad really wanted me to go into medicine. But Mark
and I talked about it, and we decided we'd stick to the old formula of a
working man and his housewife."

"I suppose that's sensible," I remarked.

"It worked for us. We were happy. Except for the fact that we wanted to
have a couple of kids right from the get-go, but for some reason we
couldn't. I'm not exactly sure what the problem was, but we were told that
children were unlikely. We were both devastated when we found that
out. That's why Josh is my angel. He truly was a miracle child. And
Mark..."

Jen's voice suddenly failed her and her eyes grew moist with tears. But she
went on resolutely. "Mark adored Josh. He was over the moon when he became
a dad. Couldn't stop grinning for weeks after Josh was born. I never
thought a man would be so...enthusiastic about a baby. He was always
helping me with Josh. He fed him, he changed his diapers, he rocked him to
sleep. And it didn't stop as Josh got older. He heaped affection on him. He
loved Josh so much..."

She stopped again, and by now my own tears were threatening to flow as the
emotion of Jen's situation and the intensity of her and her son's loss
really hit me.

Hard.

"He misses his dad so badly," Jen said, her voice barely above a
whisper. "But I can't bring him back. I would do anything to give him his
dad back, but I can't."

"I'm so sorry," I said, my own throat going tight. I didn't know what else
to say, and even if I did, I didn't trust myself to speak for fear of being
overwhelmed by emotion. Seeing how much Jen hurt over the loss of her
husband and hearing her talk about how close he was to their son made it
painfully clear how much Josh must be hurting, and my heart ached for
him. Even though I was a paedophile, my compassion for boys ran deeper than
my attractions to them, and I desperately wished there was some way I could
help this boy. Even as I had that thought, though, I knew it was
impossible, because I was just too messed up, my mind too corrupted, to be
any good to a boy or even to have a normal relationship with one. That made
me hurt even more; I wanted to help Josh, but my attraction to boys meant I
couldn't. I wouldn't risk it, wouldn't risk the possibility of hurting
him. He'd been through too much already.


"Mom, are you ok?"

I turned my head and saw Josh standing in the passageway, concern evident
on his face and in the softness of his voice. His skin was smooth and a
little shiny from his bath, and he was wearing a thin short-sleeved
Spiderman-themed top and matching sleep pants. Despite the emotion I was
feeling and the gravity of the situation, I couldn't help but notice the
silkiness of his skin and the curvature of his legs, and of their own
accord my eyes darted down to his crotch where I saw the small lump of
Josh's penis in his pants. I forced my eyes from his groin and my hormones
to calmness.

"I'm fine honey," Jen answered with a sniff. "I was just telling Tristan
about dad."

I saw a flicker of pain spread across Josh's features, and I thought he
might burst into tears. That alone almost made me burst into tears
myself. But the boy seemed to summon up some courage from deep inside and
kept his emotions in check, and the pain eased from his face.

"Oh," he said simply, his voice steady. After a few seconds, he added, "Can
I play some games please?"

"Sure sweetie, but use your headphones, ok?"

"Ok." With that Josh padded into the living room, my eyes following him all
the way, and settled on the couch where he'd sat before. Without another
sound or a glance at us, he started up a video game - a racing game from
the look of it - plugged in his headphones and put them on and immersed
himself in it.

Jen seemed to have recovered from the emotion of the memories she'd shared
with me and was dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. I'd taken a swipe at my
own eyes when I'd turned back from Josh, hoping Jen wouldn't notice my own
tears. I wasn't sure how she'd react to a man showing emotion; I'd learned
the hard way that it wasn't really the 'in thing' for a man to be
sensitive. Fortunately she didn't appear to notice my predicament.

"I'm sorry - again! - for getting a little bit weepy there," she said.

"It's not a problem," I told her.

"Well, I suppose I ought to clean up a bit," she said as she stood
up. "Would you like some tea or coffee?"

"I'd love some coffee, thank you," I said as I also stood. "Can I help you
with anything?" I hated asking since I knew I'd probably make a fool of
myself by trying to help then not knowing what to actually do, but I
figured it'd be rude not to offer.

"No, that's alright," Jen said. "I'll just put everything in the
dishwasher. Why don't you have a seat in the lounge and I'll join you in a
minute."

"Thanks," I said, then went back to the couch I'd first sat in and made
myself comfortable again while Jen busied herself in the kitchen. I looked
at Josh, who was engrossed in his game, his hands tight around the
controller, his fingers moving like lightning over the buttons and
knobs. Though I tried so hard not to, I couldn't help but roam my eyes over
his body. He wasn't as gorgeous as some boys I'd seen, his skin not as
darkly tanned and his hair not as sun-kissed-blonde, but he was still a
boy, still a being that radiated the boyishness that so enraptured me. For
the millionth time I tried to figure out why I was so intoxicated by boys,
so physically attracted to the sight and shape and form of their young,
lithe bodies, so desperate to touch them and run my fingers all over their
naked flesh, and for the millionth time I gave it up as a lost cause. I
sighed deeply in anger and frustration and despair, and hated myself even
more.


"Would you like milk and sugar, Tristan?" Jen asked.

"I'd love a little of both, thanks."

A couple of minutes later Jen joined me on the couch and handed me a
steaming cup of coffee. I nodded my thanks and set it down on the coffee
table in front of me.

Jen sipped her own coffee then asked me, "How are you settling in?"

"It's going ok," I replied. "I don't own a lot so it didn't take long to
move and set things up. The only issue really is that my broadband isn't
yet connected. That's gonna be done on Monday."

"Well you must just shout if you need anything," Jen said.

"I will, thanks. This living-on-my-own thing is gonna take some getting
used to! I should've done it ages ago I guess. But I just wasn't earning
enough!"

"That must've been frustrating," Jen observed.

"It was. And the older I got, the more embarrassed I got that I was still
living with my folks. I finally got a raise a few months ago that I thought
was enough to let me move out. I knew I had to go. I couldn't bear the
thought of still living with my parents when I was 30!"

"I always thought accountants were pretty well paid."

"The high-up ones are, yes. But like I said earlier, I'm not a CA, I'm more
of a junior accountant and bookkeeper. After studying for 3 years I decided
that there was no way I was gonna study anymore and try get my articles!
But you're right, I think I ought to be earning more than I am. I mean,
there are people younger than me in other industries earning twice my
salary!"

"So why don't you try something else then?"

"That's the thing, I don't know what else to try. I'm not really any good
at anything else."

"Oh," Jen said. I took the opportunity to take a sip of my coffee and wet
my throat that had become considerably dry as I'd talked. I was amazed at
myself for being able to even have this conversation with her. Normally I
hated talking to people about my life and why it was the way it was. I
mean, what 27 year old still doesn't have any goals or know where he's
going in life?

I could feel my cheeks starting to burn with embarrassment again, so I
changed the subject. "Is this a nice area by the way? The estate agent said
it was pretty safe."

"It's not too bad," Jen replied. "Obviously with Main Road so close it's
fairly busy, but so far things have been ok. We're still getting used to a
new house and a new suburb ourselves."

"Where did you live before?"

"We had a beautiful house in Constantia Hills with a big garden and a
swimming pool that Josh spent half his life in. And we had the most amazing
German Shepherd. Malibu, Mali for short. We all loved him to bits. I've
never known such a playful but gentle animal before. We had to give him
away for obvious reasons."

"That must've been tough," I said sympathetically.

"It was. But like I said, a lot of things changed when Mark died."

We both lapsed into silence again and sipped at our coffee. I glanced at
Josh and saw that he'd pulled his legs up and was now sitting cross-legged
as he played his game. His new position had drawn his sleep shorts right up
his legs so that it looked like he was wearing the tightest of briefs. His
tan disappeared into his shorts which made me suspect that he spent a lot
of time outside in a Speedo. Or rather, he used to.

Seeing the top of his smooth thighs and the tightness of his shorts caused
yet another stirring in my groin, and again I chastised myself for it and
forced my eyes away. It was so intensely frustrating having these feelings
all the time, but there just wasn't anything I could do about them.


I finished my coffee and set the cup back on the table, then suddenly a
yawn came out of nowhere and I blushed as I quickly covered my mouth with a
hand. I looked at my watch; it was only 7:45. I'd only been there 45
minutes! However, I was getting increasingly uncomfortable being so close
to Josh, particularly dressed as he was, and my earlier masturbation
session hadn't seemed to have driven all my lust away, much to my
frustration. I decided it might be a good idea to make an exit before my
feelings went too crazy. But I was scared I might offend Jen by leaving so
soon after arriving. Still, I was genuinely tired from the move...

Finally, I decided to hell with it and told Jen, "It's been a long day and
I'm pretty tired, so I think I'm gonna go."

"Oh, alright." Did she sound hurt? I tried not to think about it as we both
stood up. "Well thanks for coming over. It was good getting to know you."

"You too," I said. Now I really wanted to leave because I was sure I'd
upset Jen and was starting to feel horrible about it. "Thanks for dinner,
it was really nice."

"You're welcome," she said as she walked to the front door to open it.

I joined her at the door then looked back at the boy on the couch, causing
a fresh whirlwind of emotion to course through me as I did so. "Bye Josh,"
I said, loud enough for him to hear me.

He gave me a brief glance and a neutral, "Bye" and that was that.

I turned back to Jen. "Thanks again," I said sincerely.

"No problem," she replied. "And do let me know if you need anything."

"Thanks, I will." I gave her what I hoped was a genuine smile. "Well, good
night."

"Good night Tristan," she said, also smiling.

I walked out the door and she closed it softly behind me.


Returning to my apartment, I ran over the evening's events in my mind, and
as happened earlier when Jen introduced herself and her son to me, I
couldn't get Josh out of my head, and I couldn't figure out why I couldn't
get him out of my head! As I closed and locked the door behind me and
turned on the lights, I pictured Josh in my mind's eye, sitting
cross-legged on the couch, playing his racing game, so scantily dressed and
showing so much of the soft, smooth boy-skin that was so inexplicably
appealing to me. I wanted to hit myself for thinking about him and getting
aroused doing so - in fact, I wanted to throw myself in front of traffic or
stick my fingers in a plug, anything to punish myself for feeling the way I
did - but I didn't. Instead, I went to the bathroom and splashed cold water
on my face, the iciness of the water almost as sharp as a slap, which, I
thought, was far, far less than I deserved. I raised my eyes to the mirror,
and immediately had to look away because I couldn't stand the emotions that
suddenly rose up and threatened to consume me as I looked into the eyes of
a paedophile. Then I walked to my bedroom with tears moistening my eyes,
collapsed on my bed still fully-dressed, and wished I was dead. Despite how
early it still was, the exhaustion - both physical and emotional - brought
on by the day's events quickly overwhelmed me and I drifted into a dark and
thankfully dreamless sleep.