Date: Sat, 28 Aug 2004 08:40:33 -0700 (PDT)
From: David Brooke <db89109@yahoo.com>
Subject: Shining Star - Chapter 5: A Shining Star is Born

Shining Star
By David Brooke

Disclaimer: This is a fictional story containing explicit consensual and
non-consensual gay sex between adult men.  If you find this type of story
offensive, or viewing this material is illegal where you are, then do not
do so.

Chapter 5 - A Shinning Star is Born

I slept until noon, missing my morning Chemistry class. I showered and
rushed to catch my afternoon Sociology class. I felt a little woozy from my
late night tryst with the old cowboy. My mind had a lot of gaps from
yesterday. I remembered having a party at our condo and watching the
football, but my next memory was winding up at Caesar's Palace somehow and
eating at the coffee shop and realizing I had no wallet or money, and then
"winning the bet" with the old cowboy. After class I sought out Bill Myer,
who was also in my Chemistry class, to see if I could borrow his notes. I
got up with him outside.

"Hey Bill!" I called out. "Hey, wait up, man?"

Bill whirled around to look at me, with an angry glare on his face. "Stay
the fuck away from me, man!"

"Whaaat?" I stuttered in surprise. He seemed really pissed at me. "What's
wrong? Did I do something wrong?" I asked anxiously.

Bill looked around nervously, as if to see if anyone was watching us. "I
told you yesterday, man, that was a one time shot!" he whispered hoarsely.

"Yesterday?" repeated, totally confused. "I saw you yesterday? What
happened?"

Bill stared at me intently. "You really don't remember?" he asked
questioningly. "You really don't fucking remember anything?"

"Remember what! What the fuck happened? I . . .  I had a really weird day
yesterday. I remember we had some guys over to watch the Superbowl, and the
game starting, and the next thing it was nighttime and I had ended up at
Caesar's Palace. Did I get really drunk or something?"

Bill looked around anxiously. "Look, walk with me this way." I followed him
across the commons. "Look, man" he began, as he continued to look about
anxiously. "From what I hear, someone slipped you some drugs in a drink."

"Drugs! Someone slipped me some drugs? Fuck! What kind of drugs?" I
demanded to know in a mixture of fear and rising anger.

"A roofie" he replied. "You know, that date rape drug? I guess it releases
all your inhibitions, and you don't remember anything afterward." He looked
around again.  "Dude, by the time I got there, you were the party
entertainment."

"What did I do?"

Bill looked around, and then exhaled a short laugh. "Dude, you were begging
to chow down on any dude's dick who would give it to you." The blood
drained from my face.  "You were wild, man! You were saying some shit like
"The more dick I get, the more dick I want!" You tried to chow down on my
dick right there in the living room in front of everyone else! We went back
to your room and you practically inhaled my dick down your throat, and then
begged me to fuck you! And, dude, you'd already taken a bunch dudes up your
ass; you were all slimy and loose inside."

"You fucked me?" I asked in amazement, and dread.

Bill looked around quickly. "Ssssh! Keep it down, man! Look, don't get the
wrong idea.  I'm not . . .  that . . . way. I'm not into that shit! It's
. .  just, well, everyone else was giving it to you . . . and, I was horny
and shit. And, it's not like it was rape or anything - you were begging for
it, begging for me and everyone else to give it to you."

"It kind of seems like rape to me when I can't remember anything, and
someone slipped me a fucking roofie" I responded angrily. "Do you know who
slipped me the fucking roofie?"

"No!" Bill quickly assured me. "I don't know anything about it; I don't
know who slipped you the roofie." He looked about again. "But, dude - it's
getting around. Some of the guys who were there are spreading it around
that you're gay and shit, and a total slut for dick. I . .  I can't hang
around you anymore, man. I . . I don't want people to get the wrong idea."

I stopped walking abruptly. "Fine" I quietly said. "No problem, man. I
understand.  Thanks for telling me, though; about someone slipping me a
roofie. It explains a lot, why I can't remember anything."

"Sure, man" Bill replied, stopping to look back at me. He seemed to
consider something for a minute, and the walked to me, casting a wary eye
about. "Look, man. I don't know anything about how all that happened - the
roofie, and shit. But, I will tell you this: Look out for Colin. He's NOT
your friend." He turned, and walked away abruptly.

I walked around campus the rest of the day in a daze, thinking about what
Bill had told me, trying to remember more details of what happened, but it
was all still a big hole in my memory. As I sat in classes or walked around
campus, it seemed to me other students would whisper together, nod in my
direction, and then giggle or outright laugh. "Well, that's it" I thought
to myself. "I'm fucked, I'm totally fucked. Everyone thinks I'm gay,
everyone thinks I'm a major homo, and a fucking slutty one, too. I tried to
suck off Bill in the living room, in front of everyone else? I can't
believe I would do something like that!  Is there something about me I
don't know about, or understand? Am I really just faggot slut for cock?
Well, I did sell my ass last night, didn't I? Sold my ass for money, just
like a fucking gay-boy hooker. I guess that's just all I am."

When I got home to the condo, Brad came running out his room to meet
me. "Chad!" he practically shouted as he grabbed me by the shoulders. "Are
you OK, man?"

"Yeah, yeah" I assured him. "I'm fine, man."

"Where did you go last night, man?" he asked with concern. "I waited up
half the night and you didn't come home. When I got up and went to class I
looked in and saw you were sleeping. Then when I came home you were gone,
and I was worried you . . . .  Well, I've been worried about you, man!"

"I'm fine, I'm fine, man" repeated, brushing his hand off my shoulder. "I
don't remember how I got there, but I ended up a Caesar's Place, and I
. . .  Well, I hung there pretty late." I looked Brad evenly in the eye. "I
don't remember shit, but I hear we had party yesterday, and I got a little
wild?"

"You don't remember?" Brad repeated, peering into my eyes questioningly.

"Can't remember shit" I assured him. "I mean, I remember getting ready for
the Superbowl party. Colin and me were in the kitchen making snacks and his
punch. A couple of guys came by. The game started. Colin kept getting me
drinks of punch. And . .  ." I stopped abruptly. I remembered Bill's voice
"someone slipped you a roofie." And, "watch out for Colin - he's NOT you're
friend." I gritted my teeth. "And," I continued, "the next thing I remember
it was night and I was at Caesar's Palace. But," I continued with a
sarcastic smile, "I hear I put on quite a show."

Brad shook his head sadly. "Man, you were fucking crazy! You totally outted
yourself.  You kept asking me to fuck you - in front of everyone else. You
started to go down on one guy right here in the living room, in front of
everyone else, until we made you guys go back to your room. I didn't get
here until almost half time, and by then a couple of guys had already
fucked you, and you were headed out toward the living room looking for
more, totally fucking nude, when I grabbed you."

I shook my head. "Sorry, man. I guess I fucked up." I said sadly. I looked
at Brad.  "I hear someone slipped me a roofie. I guess those things really
do 'release' your inhibitions." I shook my head sadly and looked at the
floor. "I didn't realize I was fucking slut." I looked up at Brad
quickly. "Do you have any idea who slipped me that roofie?"

"Uh, no, no man" Brad replied, looking down at his feet. "I have no
idea. By the time I got home you were already flying high on that shit, and
there was a bunch of guys here.  Could have been any one of them, I guess."

"Yeah, well, like you say: Could have been anyone of them." I replied,
gritting my teeth angrily. "Guess I'll never know. Well, don't know what
else to say, man. Sorry. I guess I fucked up." I started off toward me
room.

"Chad!" Brad called out. "Uh, Chad, wait man. We . . .  uh . . . we need to
talk about something."

I turned around to face him. "Yeah?"

"Uh, sit down, man" Brad said, gesturing toward a chair.

"No, I'll stand" I told him. "Go ahead, spit it out. What is it?"

Brad looked down at the floor, shift his feet uncomfortably. "Well," he
began. "Well, uh.  Well, me and Colin had a long talk. He's going through
some personal shit. And, well, uh, he has some real problems with gay
people."

"Oh yeah?" I asked. "Is that why he's been such a jerk to me lately?"

"Yeah," Brad concurred. "Something happened over Christmas break, something
that makes him think he really hates faggots."

"What happened?" I asked. "Someone try to hit on him?"

"No, not that" Brad replied. "Something else. But, it's his business. Just
be really careful around him. He thinks and acts like he's a member of the
'God Hates Fags' Nazis at the moment."

"Ok" I agreed, with a shrug of my shoulders.

"Yeah, well, there's the problem with Colin" Brad began. "And there's a
problem with . .  . well . . . Some of the guys at the party yesterday are
blabbering about what went on. Uh, talking about what you did, and
spreading shit around."

"Yeah, that's what I hear" I said evenly. "I hear it's pretty much around
campus that I'm one big fucking H-mo."

"Yeah" Brad agreed sadly. "Coach even heard about it. Called me in the
office, and asked me about you, if I knew you were an 'avowed
homosexual'. I told him I didn't know anything about it, until
yesterday. Coach said it was real bad for my reputation, to be sharing an
apartment with a 'known homosexual'. Said he'd heard stories about 'wild
sex parties' at my apartment, with 'homosexual activity'. He kind of
implied he might kick me off the team."

"I'm really sorry, Brad" I told him, choking back the urge to cry.

"I'm really sorry too, Chad" Brad said sincerely. "I really like you,
man. I mean, we had some fun . . . uh, doing shit together. But, I really
like you as a friend, as a person. You're really a good hearted dude, man."

"Thanks, Brad" I said weakly, struggling harder to hold back my tears. "I
really like you, too; as a friend, as a person."

"Yeah, well ... "Brad began, sounding as if he were choking back his
emotions as well.  "But, well, Chad . . . uh, with Colin's problems . . .
and, well, with the coach on my ass .  . . " Brad paused and took a deep
breath. "Well, Chad, with all the shit going on, I think it's really best
if you moved out of the house."

"No problem, man" I assured Brad with a steady voice. "I agree. I've been
thinking I should get a place of my own. I mean, it's no fun with Colin
being such an asshole about everything, and I don't want to fuck things up
for you. I'll be out by the end of the week."

"You sure?" Brad asked anxiously. "You sure you're OK with this?"

"No problem, man" I assured him with a shrug of my shoulders. "It's what I
want, too. I really want a place of my own, and I'm fine for money."

"Thanks, Chad" Brad said with relief. "Thanks for being OK with everything,
man."

"No problem" I assured him. I turned to go to my room.

"Uh, Chad?" Brad called out.

I turned to face him. "Yeah?"

"Uh, well, there's something else you need to know" Brad began, looking
very comfortable. He looked down to the floor. "Uh, well, I guess you'll be
receiving an 'official notice' and shit, but . . .  Well, coach told me to
tell you you're out. You're fired as sports medicine assistant. Said he
couldn't allow someone 'openly homosexual' in 'intimate contact' with his
team."

"Yeah" I agreed in a steady, controlled voice. "I can see with how everyone
on campus talking about what a big fucking H-mo I am, that no one on the
team would want me giving them a message, or me being around them in the
locker room." I shrugged my shoulders. "No problem. Actually, I think I
found a new job, last night."

"Oh yeah?" Brad asked with curiosity. "What?"

"Oh," I said casually. "I ran into a guy last night that kind of pointed me
in the right direction. Working around the casinos, on the Strip. Being
involved in entertainment."

"Doing what?" Brad questioned.

"Not important" I told him. "Look: no problem. I'll be out of the apartment
by the end of the week. And, tell the coach I'll clear my stuff out
tomorrow morning, when none of the players will be around. Tell him he
doesn't have to worry about me ever showing my face around the sports
facility again." I turned around and went to my room.

I found my own apartment the next day. After deposit and first month's
rent, I still had plenty of my thousand bucks left over. I spent some more
of it on clothes, until I settled on my tennis shorts slut outfit. I tried
hustling that weekend. I didn't find any lucky gamblers with cowboy hats at
Caesar's, but I did find a slightly drunk military guy on leave outside on
the sidewalk who reluctantly finally agreed to paid me $100 to fuck me hard
and rough, and then later that night an even more drunk businessman from
Cleveland who paid me $150 to fuck me some more. As I became more confident
and proficient at my trade, I've worked my way up to $500 asking price,
$300 minimum. I've stayed in school, in my sports medicine major, more to
keep my parents off my ass and asking questions than anything else. I'll
sure as hell never be able to work in sports medicine. No one will have
anything to do with me at school, which is just fine with me, as I don't
want anything to do with them, either. Brad still tries to be friendly
whenever I run into him, but I always put him off. Bill Myer even stopped
me once - always looking around to make sure no one sees him talking to me
- and asked me for my phone number.  Said 'maybe we could hook up some
time'. I told him I didn't have a phone, and walked away.

So, that's it. That's my story, and this is where we came in at. I'm
standing in front of The Venetian, looking for a trick for the night,
wondering if that attorney from Connecticut will decide if his curiosity
and my ass are worth three hundred bucks to him.  And, now you know my
story. I said I wasn't gay. I don't know, maybe I was and didn't realize
it, or willing to own up to. I don't really care; I'm not big on
labels. What I do know is every friend I've had in life has fucked me
over. Everyone I ever trusted thought of me just as a piece of ass. So, I
might as well be a piece of ass - a good piece of ass, and get paid for
it. I don't have friends anymore; I don't need them. I don't need anyone,
and I don't trust anybody.

"Oh great! You're still here!" I hear someone exclaim behind me. I turn
around to see a tall, lanky guy with curly dark hair standing before me. He
has intense dark blue eyes, and they're staring at me intently. He has a
huge grin on his face.

"Maybe you don't remember me . . ." he begins. "I was in that car, in the
back. That convertible, with the jerk in front that made some crack about
you being a 'fag'."

"I remember you" I assured him.  And I did. It was Mister Hottie, the guy
in the back seat of the convertible with the sexually confused jerk in the
front checking out my ass and calling me a fag. "So, where are your
buddies?"

"I ditched them" he responded enthusiastically. "I got in a big argument
with Steve - that guy in front that was such a jerk. I'd never met him
before; he's a friend of one of my other friends who invited him along to
help share the hotel and rental car bill. You were totally right on - I
think he has some major sexual orientational conflicts. He constantly
points out guys, saying how gay they look, like he did to you. So, I told
him that I thought if he was really so straight, it would seem like he
would be paying attention to chicks, not other guys. He went ballistic,
calling me a 'fag lover' asking me if I had a boyfriend. So, I got out of
the car at a stoplight, told them I'd catch up with them later, and I
caught a taxi back here to see if I could find you. I'm REALLY glad you're
still here!"

"Oh yeah?" I said. "And why is that?"

"Because I'm really curious" he replied.

"Oh, yeah" I thought to myself. "I've heard THIS line before. Let me guess:
You've always been curious what it would be like to 'do it' with another
guy, and you think I'm just the right guy to help you out with that." I
looked around, and spotted the Connecticut attorney come out of the casino,
looking around, hopefully looking for me, but he hasn't spotted me
yet. "Too bad, kid" I think to myself. "You're a hottie, but, you should
have killed some more time. Business first. Maybe we can hookup another
time."

"So," I said, turning around to look back at Mister Hottie. "What is it
that you're so 'curious' about?"

"I'm curious why you're so sad and lonely" he replied matter-of-factly.

"Whaaat!" I stuttered in surprise. My eyes narrow and I glare at him. "You
saying you think I look sad and tired?"

"No" he corrected me. "Sad and lonely. I mean, don't get me wrong! I think
you look great! I mean, I think you're the most beautiful guy I've ever
seen in my life. You are incredibly handsome. You look like you should be
some model, or movie star.  Everything about you is just so perfect"

"Well, thanks" I tell him, smiling slightly at the compliments. "You know,
you aren't too bad looking yourself."

"Thanks!" he replied, smiling and blushing slightly. "It's just your eyes"
he continued.  "When I look into your eyes I see sadness, like you've been
really hurt before, like you don't trust anyone, and that's why you're
alone. It's what attracted me to you. I mean, you look so fucking handsome
. . .  I would never be able to approach someone that looks as good or as
hot as you, except for what I see in your eyes. It's like . . . like I can
see your soul when I look into your eyes. And, I see a good soul; but a
soul that's been hurt, and is sad, and all alone."

"Yeah well, yeah I have been fucked over a few times in my life" I assured
him. "And, you're right - I don't trust a fucking person on this planet." I
looked around quickly.  Mister Attorney has spotted me, and is standing on
the steps looking at me. He tilted his head slightly, questioningly. I nod,
silently communicating "Yeah. Give me a minute." I turned back to Mister
Hottie. I debated briefly to dispatch him then and there. "So tell me," I
asked instead. "Why are you so curious about what you think you see in my
eyes?  What does it matter to you if I've been fucked over, or hurt? I
mean, what the fuck difference does it make to you?"

"Do you really want to know?" he asks.

"Yeah, yeah" I assured him sarcastically. "I really want to know. Out with
it! I'm dying here!"

"Well," he begins earnestly, "because I think I'm totally in love with
you."

"What the FUCK?" I gasped in shock.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" he said quickly. "I mean, I'm sorry if that offends
you. I'm sorry if another guy saying that to you offends you. I mean, I
don't know if you're gay, or straight, or whatever. But, you asked, and I
asked if you were sure you really wanted to know, and . . ."

"I'm not offended" I assured him. "It just . . .  I mean, I don't get
it. You see someone for one minute and you think you're in love with them?"
I asked, incredulous.

"Don't you believe in love at first sight?" he asked.

"No" I assured him. "I don't believe in love at any sight!"

"Well then" he began, "If you don't believe in love at first sight, let's
go get to know each other. Wanna go grab something to eat?"

"Yeah, right" I said, my sarcasm rising . "Let's go get to know each
other. And after we 'get to know each other'? What do you have in mind? The
all-night wedding chapel?"

"No" he answered, sounding slightly hurt. "Do you really want to know what
I'd like to do after we get to know each other?"

"Yeah, yeah!" I told. "I really, REALLY want to know! Gotta hear this one!"

"Well," he begins slowly, "I'd really like to make slow, mad passionate
love to you for half the night, kissing you, holding you, exploring your
body and your soul. And then I'd like to fuck your brains out the rest of
the night."

"What the FUCK?" I gasped in surprise.

"Look, I'm sorry if that offends you . . ." he blurts out
quickly. "It's. . ."

"I'm NOT offended" I assured him, cutting him off in mid sentence. "It's
just . . .  I mean, well, I've never met anyone like you before. No one
quite as . . . . direct . . . as you are." I shook my head in disbelief. "I
. . .  I don't get it. I mean, you seem like some kind of hopeless
romantic, love at first sight and all that. But, I still don't get what
would make you think you could love me at first sight. I mean, I hardly
think I'm the romantic type, or look like I would be."

"No" he conceded "You definitely don't seem like the romantic type. Not
yet, anyway.  But, give me a shot!" he added brightly. "Give me a shot, and
I'll turn you into a hopeless romantic."

I looked at him skeptically, and then turned around to check on
Mr. Attorney. He spotted my gaze, held up his arm, and tapped his wrist
watch. I held up a finger. "Just a minute, just give me one minute" I
communicate silently to him.

"Do you really want to know why I'm pretty sure I'm completely, totally in
love with you?" I hear Mister Hottie ask.

"Yeah" I say with a sigh of exasperation, turning around to face him. "I'm
just dying to hear this one. Tell me."

"Because I'm pretty sure you're my Shining Star" he tells me confidently.

"You're shining WHAT?" I asked, completely confused.

"My Shining Star" he repeated. "It's what my mom always called it" he
explained. "My mom was always a hopeless romantic. She told me as a little
child that each one of us has a 'special someone' meant just for them,
their 'Shining Star', their perfect match. She said that when you meet your
Shinning Star, you'll know it immediately; you'll know in your heart that
you've met him or her. You'll know you've met the person meant for you in
your life. And she said it's really important that you embrace what you
feel in your heart, embrace the love that you feel, welcome your Shining
Star into your heart and your life, and don't let them get away. She said
that's how it was for her and my dad. She told me the first moment she met
my dad she knew she had met her Shining Star, and that it was love at first
sight for both of them. They made slow, mad passionate love that night and
fucked their brains out, and I was conceived that very first night."

I stared at him blankly for a few seconds, to see if he had finished,
trying to decipher what he had said. He seemed to be waiting anxiously for
a response. "Well . . ." I began, shaking my head slightly. "Your mom
certainly seems like an interesting person. I guess your dad believes in
all that, too?"

"I dunno" he replied, shrugging his shoulders. "I guess he did. I never
knew my father.  They were only together that first night the met, when I
was conceived."

"WHAT?" I asked incredulously. "All this stuff about 'love at fist sight',
'Shining Star', and they only got to spend one night together?"

"My dad shipped out to Viet Nam the next morning" he replied. "That's what
he was doing in San Francisco. He'd been drafted, and was being shipped
over to Viet Nam. My mom told me she begged him not to go; tried to
convince him to desert, told him she'd go to Canada with him. He didn't
really believe in or agree with the war, but he told her he had to go. He
said it was 'the right thing to do', to answer his country's 'call to
duty'. He promised her he would come back to her. He was over there less
than a month when he was killed. Some enemy ambush or something."

"I'm sorry" I began. "But, listen, I need to . .  ."

"Yeah, I was sorry, too" he began, cutting me off. "I felt kind of angry
about it - that I never got to know my dad, and they he and mom only got to
have one night together. I asked mom 'what so great about meeting your
Shining Star, if you only get to have one night?' My mom told me it was all
worth it, that it's better to enjoy one night with your Shining Star than
to search for your Shining Star your whole life and not find him."

"I'm really sorry" I began, "But listen, uh . . ."

"Ryan" he said cutting me off.

"Huh?" I said.

"My name. My name is Ryan, Ryan Farrell. What's yours?"

"Uh, Chad" I replied. "So, look . .  . Ryan. You seem like you're really a
nice guy and all . . . and I really wouldn't want to disappoint you. You
seem to think I'm some kind of Knight in Shining Armor or something, and I
promise you I'm not. And, I really need to be going."

"Shining Star" Ryan corrected me. "You're my Shining Star. And, you know,
I'm really surprised it's you. I mean, I don't know if that means I'm gay
or whatever. I'm not big on labels. I really haven't had that much sex
before; I'm not big on sleeping around just for the fuck of it. I've been
waiting for my Shining Star. When I turned around in the car as we were
leaving and looked in your eyes, it was like my mom was right next to me. I
could hear her voice so clear: 'When you meet your Shining Star, you'll
know it immediately. Embrace what you feel in your heart, embrace the love
that you feel, and welcome your Shining Star into your life. Don't let him
get away.'"

"Oh?" I said, my sarcasm returning. "So your mom calls you on your cell
phone and tells you 'Here he is, son. Here's your Shining Star. That
hustler selling his ass on the street over there. There's your Shining
Star!'?"

"I wish she could call me on the phone" Ryan said in a tone of deep
sadness. "She's dead too. She died about a year and a half ago. Cervical
cancer."

I stared at him blankly. "This guy can't be for real" I thought to
myself. "I can't believe this stuff he's feeding me about 'love at first
sight', and 'Shining Star'. I've never met anyone remotely like this guy
before in my life; I didn't know such people fucking existed." As I
continued to stare at him, I saw the sadness that had come into his eyes
when he told about his mother change to anxiousness as he awaited a
response from me.

 "I'm so sorry" I said softly, my resistance melting. "I'm sorry about both
your mom and dad, and I'm sorry I've been kind of a jerk to you."

"That's Ok" he assured me brightly. "I knew you wouldn't trust me at
first. I could see it in your eyes. I knew I would have to earn your
trust. So, I need to let you know I haven't been completely truthful with
you. I wasn't completely truthful when I said I 'thought' I was in love
with you. I wasn't completely truthful when I told you I 'thought' you were
my Shining Star. I knew it. I knew it the first moment I looked into your
eyes that you were my Shining Star, and that I was madly in love with
you. And I love you more each second I get to be with you."

I fought it fiercely, but my eyes began to moisten. "This can't be fucking
happening" I tried to convince myself.

"And," he continued. "I was pretty sure you were a hustler. I mean, when
you look a little close, your outfit is pretty outrageous. It definitely
shows off your finer features."

 We both chuckled in relief from tension between us.

"Uh, I hope you're not going to be mad . . ." he began. "But, I think you
lost your customer." He jerked his head toward were Mister Attorney had
been standing. He was gone.

"No, I'm not mad" I replied. "I'm kinda glad, in a way. I don't feel like
working anymore tonight. You want to go grab a burger and fries, maybe get
to know each other a little?  I'm sure I can convince you I'm no 'Shining
Star'."

"Sure!" he replied happily. "I'm starving! But, I'm vegetarian. Let's go
some place I can get a salad."

"Of course he's a vegetarian" I thought to myself. "What else could he be?"

 "The Stardust Late Night Buffet" I suggested. "They have a great salad
bar, and I can chow down on some disgusting animal protein at the buffet."

Ryan rattled on incessantly as we ate. He was a junior at UC Berkley, a
double major in Environmental Studies and Urban Planning.  Wants to save
the fucking planet, of course!  He loved spending summers in Northern
California at the large farm his mom had bought, and now was his. He stays
in the small old farmhouse, planning and supervising the subdivision. He's
developing lots and builds houses completely self-sufficient in green
energy. He couldn't wait for summer; he loved life on the farm, away from
the city and the noise. He kept pressing to know about me, and I ended up
telling him about Brad and Colin, and what happened when someone slipped me
the roofie. He got really mad, insisting that I find out who did it and
turn them in so they couldn't do it to someone else.  He insisted angrily
that I fight for my job back. He kept trying to slip his hand under the
table onto my leg. I kept brushing it off. I can't handle public display of
affection. I mean, yeah, sure, I hustle my ass on The Strip. But, that
doesn't mean I'm some political gay activist or something! The more he
talked, the more he told me about his life, what he thought and how he felt
about things, the more fascinated I became. I had never met anyone remotely
like him before. He was the eternal optimist, a refreshing contrast to my
complete cynicism. He seemed so perfect, so self-confident. I kept
wondering what he could possibly see in someone like me. As he rambled on
and on, I came to know I wanted him in my life. Finally, we ran of things
to talk about.

"So," Ryan said. "It's getting late . . ."

"Yeah," I agreed. "It's getting late." I looked into his eyes, and saw the
anxious trepidation he felt as he awaited the news of his fate. It made him
seem vulnerable, human, instead of a self-confident Savior of the Planet. I
realized that inside that self- confident exterior he too was sad, and
alone. I realized at that moment that he needed me as badly as I had come
to realize I needed him.

 "So, now that we've gotten to know each other a little better" I began
slowly, "are you going to come home with me and make slow, mad passionate
love to me and then fuck my brains out like you promised?"

He kissed me! He fucking kissed me, right on the lips, right there in the
middle of the Stardust Late Night Buffet! I hesitated, then kissed him
back, and let him hold my hand.

I did a lot of "firsts" that night. I'd never brought anyone home to my
apartment; I'd certainly never spent the night with a guy - or anybody -
before. I'd never made love to anyone, nor had love made to me. Kissing,
touching, holding, embracing, exploring each other's bodies with our lips
and our tongues. We tossed and turned and caressed and explored for hours,
until each of us new every inch of each other's body. I had certainly had
my brains fucked out before, but never like that. When Ryan was inside me,
it was if we were as one, two bodies, two beings twisting and twining as
one, writhing in bliss, until we climaxed together, our combined essence
exploding into a billion points of brilliant light, a billion Shining
Stars.

I always wake up slowly in the mornings. I sleep soundly, and my first few
moments of consciousness in the mornings usually began with "Who am I?
Where am I? What did I do last night?" When I awoke that next morning after
meeting Ryan, I awoke more slowly than usual, feeling better, happier than
I'd ever felt in my life. "What? Why? " I mused slowly as my mind struggled
with consciousness. And then I felt the warmth next to me. "Oh yeah! Ryan!"
I turned to see him sleeping beside me, his face the most beautiful sight
I'd ever seen. I kissed him gently. His eyes opened, and he looked into
mine.

"I love you!" I whispered, surprised at how easily those words came
straight from my heart.

"That's good," he answered back, smiling. "'Cause I'm so totally in love
with you it fucking hurts!"

So, I don't hustle and work the Strip anymore. One reason is because I
don't sleep with anyone but Ryan. We're in a 'committed relationship', as
Ryan calls it. I go up to Berkley and stay with Ryan every other weekend,
and the other weekends he comes down to Vegas and stays with me. We really
miss each during the week, but, summer break is nearly here. We're spending
the summer together at his farm in Northern California. I guess I'll learn
all about environmentally aware planned development. All I care about is
not having to wake up a single morning without Ryan beside me. I guess some
people might say means I'm gay. Oh, I dunno. I'm not big on labels, but I
really don't care anymore if all of this means I'm gay. The only thing that
really matters to me is that Ryan is one-half of my life.

The other reason I don't work the Strip is anymore is because I got my job
back as sports medicine assistant. At Ryan's insistent nagging, I appealed
my dismissal to the University Diversity Committee. The coach agreed to
meet with me, and I explained to him what happened when someone slipped me
a roofie, and how it gave me a bad reputation. I assured him no one would
ever have to worry about me 'coming on to them', and if he would just give
me another chance I would earn his and the entire team's confidence and
respect. He agreed to put it to a vote by the team members. I guess some
guys were complaining about having a 'homo' around while they were dressing
or undressing in the locker room. Others complained they wouldn't be able
to handle it if some 'fag came on to them' in the shower or something. I
heard that Brad got up and gave a really good speech about how I'd been his
roommate, and I'd never ever remotely tried to come on to him (true), and
how he was 'proud' consider me as a friend. Then Jerry Tucker got up and
made a speech about he thought I was the best assistant they'd ever had,
and he had no qualms about having a massage from me. And he added that,
while he was sure there would never be any problems, if any of the guys
were afraid they couldn't handle themselves against a little 5'7", 140
lb. guy, then he sure as hell didn't want them backing him up against the
6'4", 300 lb. linemen of Brigham Young in a game. I guess both Brad and
Jerry were pretty good; the team voted unanimously that they wanted back as
a part of the team.

Things didn't work out so well for Colin. He's in prison. He went out on a
date with a girl and slipped her a roofie. Apparently he was really rough
on her when he rammed his horse dick up her back door. Her roommate found
her unconscious and bleeding in bed and called 911. The girl remembered
enough to tell the police she had been out with Colin. They raided the
condo and found more roofies in his room. He got 25 years. He may get out
in 10, with good behavior. He actually wrote Brad a letter about his gang
rape in prison. I guess most other inmates hate rapists, figuring it could
have been their sister or daughter that was raped. About 10 other inmates
ganged up on Colin in the showers and they all had a go at him; he needed
medical attention afterward. He actually admitted to Brad in his letter
that he's now "punked himself out" to a really big black guy, to protect
him from the other inmates. Rape is a vile crime. To me, the theft of one's
personal dignity is second only to the theft of one's life. But, I guess if
a rape had to happen, it couldn't have happened to a more deserving person
than Colin.

I moved back in the condo with Brad when Colin left. Brad and Ryan even
seem to like each other. Ryan didn't like Brad at first, because of what
Brad made me do, but eventually conceded that Brad wasn't the "worst person
in the world". Brad confessed that he was a little jealous of Ryan at
first, because "he really liked me". Brynda dumped Brad for another guy,
and Brad has a regular thing going with Kyle, another football player on
the team who had moved in and took over my old room. It's all very "hush,
hush", of course. Well, outside the condo it's "hush, hush"; inside the
condo I hear those two going at almost every night. I wasn't surprised when
Brad admitted to me that he had come to realize he was "at least
bi-sexual". Nobody can fuck someone with the intensity that Brad used to
fuck me without feeling something for the other person. But, it blew me
away I realized it was Kyle who was fucking Brad. Brad turned a little red
when I asked him if he liked being a 'Tight End' better than being
Defensive End. "Well, you seemed to enjoy it so much, I figure I had to
gave it a try at least once" he told me. "It DOES feel pretty good having
something big and hard up there, banging that prostate thing, and it feels
REAL good to just lay there and take it and let the other guy do all the
work for a change." Brad turned even redder when confided in me that he
wasn't so sure that he wasn't becoming more of a 'wide receiver' than a
'tight end.' "Kyle's hung like a horse and fucks like a madman" he admitted
embarrassedly. "Kyle and I get along with each other really well, and
neither of us is seeing anyone else right now. Who knows? We both just end
up permanently playing for the 'other team'. "


So, that's it; that's the rest of my story. Thanks for listening. My point
is this: A lot of times life really sucks. But, life is always perfect. It
just doesn't always seem like at the time. The next time your life seems
less than perfect, just remember: Your Shining Star could be waiting just
around the next corner.

The Conclusion.