Date: Thu, 3 Jun 2010 02:44:43 EDT
From: BertMcK@aol.com
Subject: Dancing on the Tundra 4

DANCING ON THE TUNDRA
by Bert McKenzie
Copyright 2010

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to any real
person alive or dead is coincidental and unintentional.

CHAPTER IV

     Grounded.  Grounded!  His mom had put her foot down.  She
had been much too lenient.  Perhaps it was because he was her
baby or perhaps it was because she could tell how his father
seemed to shun him.  The man's only interests were the masculine
arts of hunting, fishing, baseball, football, prize fights and
the like.  To him, dancing and theatre were for sissies.  He
loved his son, but he had no idea how to relate to the boy.  At
times he couldn't believe this soft mockery of boyhood had come
from his loins, and such thoughts had driven a wedge between the
husband and wife.

     "But that's not fair," the boy argued, being careful not to
raise his voice lest he further inflame her anger.  "What about
the show?"

     "I was against that from the start," the woman replied
sternly.  "A boy your age dancing with all those college women.
You just call up that dance teacher and you tell her you won't be
in their little play."

     "But Mom, it's tech week.  The show opens next Friday and
it's too late to find a replacement."

     Terry's mother was adamant.  "You call her and tell her or I
will."

     "I'll tell her in person on Monday," Terry said sullenly as
he hung his head and started up the stairs to his room.  He
wanted desperately to speak to Paula but he knew he wouldn't be
allowed to use the phone, and leaving the house was out of the
question.  He sat in his bedroom window and looked over at his
friend's house.  Terry concentrated as hard as he could, trying
to contact her by mental telepathy.  He willed her to come to a
window and look out or step outside and look up to where he sat.
He concentrated, staring at the house next door until he got a
headache, but it was obviously no use.  There was no such thing
as mental telepathy, just as there was no such thing as justice.
And there would be no such thing as his performance in the
college show.

     Friday night, after Jim had finished with him and before the
boy could recover from his orgasm, Terry managed to slip away.
He walked home from the cemetery, keeping out of sight of the
road, fearing that someone might drive by and see him.  His once
beautiful costume was stained, snagged and muddy and the makeup
on his face was smeared to a blue mess.  He looked as badly as he
felt and all he wanted to do was get home to the safety of his
room.  He thought he saw Jim's truck drive by several times, but
each time he hid in the bushes.  After walking most of the night,
Terry managed to slip into his house at 3:30 am.  Unfortunately
his mother was sitting in the living room waiting up for him.
When asked where he was, he simply told her he went to a party
after the dance.  He couldn't very well tell her what had really
happened.  And so he was grounded for breaking his curfew.

     Around three o'clock, Saturday afternoon the phone rang.
Terry's mom called him downstairs to answer it.  "Remember, young
man, you're being punished.  I'm only letting you talk because
your friend needs to find out about an assignment.  Once you've
answered the question you hang up."  She then handed him the
black receiver and stood with her arms folded, apparently
planning to make sure he didn't visit on the phone.

     Terry's heart leapt.  He knew it was Paula.  They had a code
word he could use to let her know he was being watched but needed
to talk with her.  She would find a way.  "Hello," he said into
the phone.

     A masculine voice spoke back.  "Terry?  It's Jim."

     His hopes were dashed.  "Yeah?" he responded woodenly.

     "I . . . I just wanted to see if you were okay."

     "Yeah," Terry repeated

     "I . . . I guess I was really drunk last night.  I'm not
sure what all happened, but I just thought I'd call."

     "You don't remember?" Terry asked, his heart racing.  Part
of him felt a great sense of relief.  He wasn't sure how he was
ever going to face Paula or Jim again.  On the other hand, a part
of him felt lost and just vaguely disappointed.  He had thought
about Jim for several years, and now in one violent night he lost
his virginity in one sense, as well as doing so with a boy about
whom he had often fantasized.  The fact that Jim didn't even
remember the incident only seemed to confirm Terry's feelings
that what happened was dirty and sinful.  God had apparently
wiped the deed from the mind of Jim, whom Terry saw as the
innocent victim of his hidden desires.  He knew he should go to
confession today and tell the priest about this sin, but he also
knew he never would.

     "No, I don't remember a thing," the voice said nervously.
"Do you?"

     "No . . . I guess not," Terry responded, burying his guilt
deep in his heart.  "I've gotta go now."  He slowly replaced the
receiver in its cradle, then quickly ran back up to his room,
feeling even worse than he had the night before and not knowing
why.

                            *   *   *

     Monday morning Terry tried to find Paula before first period
but she wasn't at any of her usual hang outs.  When the bell rang
and he ducked into home room he saw her sitting at the opposite
side of the room from their usual spot.  He had to catch his
breath as he saw her.  He had forgotten about how she had cut her
hair.  Without the grease that had kept it in place in her James
Dean costume, she vaguely resembled Julie Andrews, only her hair
was much darker and her face was too long and angular.  Terry
walked over to take the empty desk next to her.  "I've been
looking for you," he said.  She didn't acknowledge him.  "What's
wrong?" he asked.

     "What's wrong?!" she responded as she quickly looked at him,
anger flashing in her dark eyes.  "You dress up like a fairy in
an obscene costume, then go off with my boyfriend leaving me to
walk home.  And after I came to your defense in the gym, why
nothing's wrong!"

     "Sorry," Terry said quietly.  He quickly stood and walked
back to his usual seat, burying his face in his American History
book.  Even now the consequences of his actions Friday night were
coming back to hurt him.  Now he had lost his best friend.  He
focused on his thoughts of the white expanse of snow.  The ice
cold, arctic tundra would freeze the ache he felt inside, leaving
him safe and numb.

     The day dragged slowly by and finally the three o'clock bell
sounded the release.  Terry gathered his books and jacket from
his locker, then left the building.  He was walking across the
parking lot, trying to think of how to tell the director he had
to drop out of her dance show when a horn blast caused him to
jump.  He looked up to see Jim sitting in his truck.  "Get in,"
the boy called out.  Terry thought of refusing for a moment, then
climbed into the cab.

     "Where's Paula?" he asked.

     "I don't know.  I guess she found another way home."  Jim
started up the truck and headed out of the parking lot.  "So you
want me to pick you up at 6:00?" he asked as he ground the gears
causing the truck to lurch forward.

     "I got grounded 'cause I got in so late on Friday," Terry
admitted sullenly.  "I gotta drop out of the show."

     "Sorry," Jim said sympathetically.  They drove on in
silence.  "Say, how about if I can help you stay in the show?"

     "How?"

     "We can tell you folks you have this big project in . . . in
. . ."

     "American History?"

     Jim nodded.  "Okay, American History.  I'll pick you up to
go to the library every night this week.  Your show's Friday and
Saturday, right?"

     "Yeah," Terry said, his spirits beginning to lift.  "It
might work."

     Jim pulled the truck to a stop in front of the house.  "Tell
your folks I'm picking you up for the library at six."  Terry
smiled and opened the truck door.  "Hey, Tutti," Jim called after
him.  "You really owe me a big one for this."  As he drove down
the street Terry felt fear racing with excitement in his veins.

     His parents seemed to accept the flimsy lie and soon Terry
was on his way to rehearsal.  He had to put the costume on under
his clothes so he could smuggle it out of the house.  He hoped
they would arrive at the campus early enough for him to find
Sally and see if she could do something about getting it cleaned
before Thursday night dress rehearsal.

     The evening passed quickly and by 10:00 Terry was standing
on the curb waiting for Jim to pick him up.  "I'll see you
tomorrow, Terry," Sally said as she left him.  "Don't worry about
the costume.  I'll take care of it."  She waved to him as she
crossed to the dorm.

     The rust colored pick up roared up the brick covered lane
and pulled into the circle drive.  Terry climbed into the cab and
Jim pulled out of the drive and back down the brick lane again.
"So how'd rehearsal go?" he asked.

     "Great," Terry replied.  "Did you get in touch with Paula?"
He remembered that Jim was planning on calling her earlier.

     "Yeah.  She's still really pissed at me."

     "Sorry."

     "Who needs her?" Jim asked as he turned off the highway and
onto a country road.

     "Where are we going?" Terry asked, suddenly frightened by
the unscheduled detour.

     "I gotta take a pee," Jim explained.  The truck bounced
along for a way, then Jim turned into a tree covered drive and
pulled up beside an old, deserted barn.  "This used to be my
uncle's farm," he said as he opened the door and jumped down.
"Come on."

     "That's okay," Terry said.  "I'll wait here for you."

     "Come on," Jim said a little forcefully.  "I want to show
you something."

     "What?"

     "It's in the barn."

     His heart pounding in his chest, Terry slowly opened the
door and climbed out of the truck to follow his friend.  They
went into the darkened structure and Jim reached out for
something.  In a few minutes he had an old lantern glowing,
providing enough light to see.  He sat it on an old wooden crate.
The small flame threw long shadows on the weathered wood walls
making the place seem even more frightening than it had in the
total darkness.

     "I come out here sometimes just to get away," Jim said.  He
walked over to a dark corner and turned his back to Terry,
unzipping his fly.  "There's a pond just down the hill where I go
fishing sometimes," he called over his shoulder.  Terry could
hear the sound of urine splattering on the floor.

     Soon the silence returned and seemed to deepen.  Only an
occasional creak of a settling board could be heard.  "What did
you want to show me?" Terry asked, uncomfortable with the
silence.

     Jim turned around and stepped back toward the circle of
light.  "This," he said.  Terry looked down to see that he still
held his penis extended through the open fly.

     "What are you doing?" Terry asked nervously, taking a step
backward.

     "I did you a big favor, helping you stay in that show," Jim
said calmly.  "Now it's time for you to pay it back."  He took a
step forward.  "Suck it."  Terry backed into the wall, his eyes
wide in fear.  "Come on, you did it before," Jim coaxed.  "Only
this time I'm sober enough to enjoy it."

     "You . . . you said . . . you didn't remember."

     "I lied," he growled.  "Now quit stalling and make me feel
good.  After all, it's a long walk home from here, and you said
you wanted to stay in the show."  Terry slowly sank to his knees.

                            *   *   *

     "Come on, ask her out," Ben said.  "She's the only girl in
the whole senior class who doesn't have a date for the prom.  You
wouldn't want her to go through life knowing she never got to go
to her senior prom."

     Terry shrugged his shoulders.  "I'm not going to the prom
either."

     "It's different for a girl," Ben argued.  "It matters more
to them."

     "Are you going?"

     "Yeah, I asked Selma Weatherby."

     Terry looked at his classmate in surprise.  "Why didn't you
ask Frances out?  She's a lot better looking than Selma
Weatherby."

     "Well actually," Ben blushed and looked down at the floor.
"We're in band together and, well I kind of asked her before I
knew what I was doing."

     "God, Ben, how can anyone be so great in school and so
stupid in life?"

     The boy looked up quickly at Terry.  "Yeah, well at least I
wanted to ask a girl instead of a guy."

     Terry blanched at the barb but he tried to recover quickly.
"Very funny, but I didn't ask a girl because I'm not really
interested in going."

     "That's not what I heard," Ben retorted and went back to
work on his calculus problems.

     "What did you hear?" Terry asked angrily.

     "No talking over there!" Mrs. Desch, the librarian said as
she threw annoyed glances in the boys' direction.

     "What did you hear?" he repeated in a whisper, trying to
hide behind an English book.

     "I heard . . ."  Ben glanced around carefully.  "I heard
Mike Myers say if he couldn't get into his girlfriend's pants he
could always get you to blow him like you do Jim Ragsdale."

     "That's a lie!" Terry said, angry and hurt by the rumor his
friend was relating.  He didn't think anyone else knew about his
meetings with Jim.  They happened on an infrequent and irregular
basis.  Whenever Jim Ragsdale got horny and couldn't find any
other relief he'd arrange to 'study' with Terry.  It was always
the same.  They'd drive out to the old barn halfway between town
and Holy Lady campus.  Jim would drop his pants without preamble
and Terry would accommodate him.  At first it was a frightening
ordeal coerced by blackmail and ending with Terry wallowing in
his guilt all the way back home, but as time went on, the act
grew less traumatic.  Eventually Terry started to look forward to
Jim's calls.  After he was home he would go quickly to his
bedroom and masturbate.  Jim never touched him in return or
seemed interested in Terry for anything other than quick physical
satisfaction.  Because of this Terry was sure that Jim would
never admit what they did to anyone else.  He couldn't believe
Jim would tell Mike Myers.

     "I'm sorry," Ben whispered quickly.  "So are you gonna ask
her?"

     "Maybe I will," Terry replied.  After all, if he went to the
prom with a girl he couldn't very well be . . . different.

     That afternoon he asked Frances Williams to the prom.  She
accepted before the words were hardly out of his mouth.  As the
eventful day drew nearer she told him she was wearing a yellow
formal.  He agreed to wear a brown suit.  His father even agreed
to let Terry use the car for the evening as long as he promised
to be in by 2:00 am.

     He was sitting on his front porch on Saturday afternoon
trying to force himself to read the book in his lap rather than
think of his first real date scheduled for that night, when he
heard a familiar voice.  "What'cha doing?"  Terry jumped at the
sound and turned to see Paula sitting on the porch rail a few
feet away.

     "Reading," he replied.  The two had hardly spoken three
words since last November.  He felt uncomfortable under her
scrutiny.

     "I heard you were taking Frances to the prom tonight," she
said.

     "Yeah," he replied, then added as an after thought, "Are you
going?"  As soon as he said it he felt stupid.  Of course she was
going.  Ben already said Frances was the only senior girl without
a date.

     "Yeah, Tony's taking me."

     "Tony?"

     "He's from Senior High.  You don't know him."  Apparently
Paula's date was from the public school rather than Bishop
Benton.

     "Oh," was all Terry could think to say.

     "You going to the after prom party?"

     "Party?" Terry asked.

     "Oh, I guess you didn't hear about it.  Janet Reynolds'
folks are giving an after prom party at their place out in the
country.  Prom's over at midnight, then we're all going out to
the party."

     "I've gotta be in by two," Terry replied.

     "Jesus, Terry.  Don't you ever have fun?"  She sounded
exasperated with him.

     "I have fun," he replied.

     "With Jim Ragsdale," she said nodding.  "I heard."

     "Heard what?" he asked angrily.

     "The rumor's all over school.  Jim supposedly told Mike
Myers that you go down on him when he can't get a girl to."
Terry blushed furiously and tried to look back at his book.  "I'm
sorry," she apologized.  "I guess it's my fault.  I never really
knew what a jerk Ragsdale was until we broke up.  I can't believe
he'd make up stories like that about you.  He probably only did
it to get back at me because he knew we were friends."

     "Yeah," Terry replied.

     "Well, I better go get ready for tonight.  I guess I'll see
you there."

                            *   *   *

     Terry picked Frances up at 6:30 in his dad's '65 Chevy.  Mr.
and Mrs. Williams insisted that he come inside for a few minutes
and they snapped several flash photos of the couple standing in
front of the ornate fireplace in their family room.  Mr. Williams
was a bank president and his money was evident in the ultra-
modern style of their split level, suburban ranch house.  And yet
for all of the money and nice things they could buy, Frances'
parents could not purchase her popularity.  Consequently going to
the prom was something of a milestone for them and they wanted
plenty of photographic proof.  Before the couple was able to
escape, Mr. Williams turned on an extra bright, blinding
floodlight and began to take eight millimeter motion pictures of
his daughter and her date waving goodbye and walking out the
door.  Both Terry and Frances breathed a sigh of relief as they
pulled away from the curb, Mr. Williams running out into the
street behind them, his movie camera still churning away.

     The couple had supper at the Springfield Country Dinner
Place.  Terry had no idea he would be expected to take her to
dinner.  He thought he would just pick her up and go to the
dance.  Fortunately Ben informed him that dinner was part of the
prom night date tradition before he made a social gaff.  The
Springfield Country Dinner Place was not the sort of restaurant
one patronized in formal wear, but Terry was still new to this
date business, and Frances didn't seem to mind.  Their waitress
was a white haired, grandmotherly type who seemed tickled that
this cute couple was eating at her table.  She hovered around
them excessively making the dinner seem to last even longer than
it did, and rendering the two diners totally silent.  Finally,
the eternally long meal was finished, the check paid and the cute
couple on their way to the dance.

     "Terry," Frances said, suddenly breaking the silence as they
were en route to the school.  "I'm having a really nice time."

     "Me too," he replied self consciously.

     "I've never really been to a dance like this, I mean with a
boy.  I hope I don't embarrass you."

     Terry glanced over at the girl.  For a moment she reminded
him of a giant canary, plump and round and covered in yellow
chiffon.  Her hair was teased and coiffed on top of her head
reminiscent of a plumed crest.  He decided a cockateel would be a
more appropriate comparison.  "Why would you embarrass me?" he
asked in surprise.

     "Well, you're such a good dancer.  I saw you in the musical
when you did 'The Unsinkable Molly Brown.'  I've never really
danced with a boy."

     At last Terry began to feel comfortable.  This big yellow
cockateel was just as nervous as he was.  "Don't worry," he said.
"I'm sure you'll be a great dancer.  It really is easy."  She
smiled at him and slid a little closer on the car seat.

     Terry parked the car and gallantly opened the passenger
door, offering his arm.  Frances took it and together they
entered the building.  The prom theme was 'A Night in Camelot.'
The gym had been transformed with multicolored streamers, and
foil covered shields and coats of arms hung around the room.  At
one end a huge throne had been erected under one of the
basketball goals.  Later in the evening a king and queen would be
chosen to sit there.  At the opposite end a band tuned up their
instruments preparing to begin.  Underclassmen dressed as pages
scurried around serving punch and cookies and calling everyone
"m'lord" and "m'lady."

     As soon as the music began Terry tried to drag Frances onto
the empty gym floor to dance, but she insisted on waiting until
there was a crowd.  In a little while Ben and his date Selma
joined Terry and Frances at their table.  Both girls seemed
extremely uncomfortable and it took Terry a couple of minutes
before he figured out why.  Both Frances and Selma were wearing
the exact same dress.  Of course Frances was plump and round and
dressed in yellow while Selma was a thin as a rail and her gown
was pink, but the dress pattern was exactly the same with a full,
chiffon covered skirt, laced bodice and even the silk flower on
one shoulder strap.  Ben seemed totally unaware of this ghastly
embarrassment to his date.

     As they sat there a voice suddenly called out, "Hi, guys.
Mind if we join you?"  Terry looked up to see Paula and her date.
She introduced Tony Latieri.  He stood well over six feet tall
and was extremely thin with a gaunt looking face.  Tony was
wearing a white dinner jacket which only accentuated his hair
which was coal black, long and tied in a pony tail which hung
down his back.  At first Terry was too surprised by her date to
really notice Paula, but when he did his heart sank.  She too was
wearing the same dress as the other girls at the table, except
hers was in pastel blue.

     "Hey, you three girls look like bride's maids," Tony said as
he slipped into a chair beside Terry.

     "So how about that dance now?" Terry said to Frances who was
more than happy for the excuse to leave the table.

     Around eleven thirty Frances asked to leave.  Terry asked if
she wanted to attend the after prom party but she declined saying
she had a headache from the loud music.  He drove her home and
walked her to the door.  Frances thanked him for a lovely
evening, squeezed his hand, then went inside.  Just as Terry was
about to get into his car the porch light came on and Mr.
Williams quickly walked out to speak to him.  The man invited him
to dinner the following week.  Terry said he would check with his
parents, then Mr. Williams extended his hand.  Terry reached to
shake it and suddenly found himself holding a $20 bill.  He
looked at it in surprise.  "For your gas," Mr. Williams said,
then quickly returned to his house.  Terry pocketed the money and
drove off.

     He had promised Paula earlier in the evening that he'd go to
the party with or without his date.  So Terry tossed his jacket
in the back seat, yanked off his tie and headed out of town
toward the Reynolds' place.  He pulled up several minutes later
into the dark drive leading to their farm, having to park some
distance away.  There were bright lights illuminating the house
and yard and loud music could be heard in the distance.  Terry
eased the car to the side of the drive behind the long line of
others, shut off the engine, climbed out and started walking up
the lane.  He was about halfway to the house when he heard a low
voice say, "Hey, isn't that Tutti?"  Several dark figures were
sitting on a low, stone wall smoking cigarettes in the dark.
"Hey, Tutti, come on over here and join us," another voice
called.  Terry lowered his head and kept walking.

     Suddenly a hand grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him
around.  "What's the matter, Tutti?  You too good to associate
with us?"  It was too dark to see well, but Terry was certain it
was Mike Myers.  "Come on over and have a drink."  He grabbed
Terry's arm and dragged him toward the other dark figures on the
wall.

     "Let go," Terry said as he struggled, but he instantly found
another body holding him.  The two boys pulled him up to the
wall.

     "Look who's here, guys.  Tutti came to join us."  There were
several chuckles and a couple of hoots from the dark group.  As
Terry's eyes began to adjust he could make out Bart Smith, Lance
Surillo and several other seniors.  Sitting in the center of the
group, standing out because of his height was Tony, Paula's date
from the prom.  "You want a drink, Tutti?" Myers asked.  He
grabbed a bottle of beer from one of the boys and tried to force
it into Terry's mouth, sloshing the contents all over him.  "God,
Tutti, you made a mess.  What's the matter?  Ain't a beer bottle
enough like a man's pecker for you to suck on?"  This brought a
round of laughter.

     "Let go of me, you asshole!" Terry shouted as loudly as he
could, hoping to attract some attention from the party down the
road.

     His face suddenly resounded to an open handed slap.  "Don't
you call me names, you fucking homo," Myers growled.  "Guys, I
think we ought to teach this homo some manners."  The voices
around him cheered and hooted in agreement.  "Come on.  Let's use
the old Milburn barn."

     Terry tried to struggle but he was completely overpowered.
Five guys carried him to a truck and threw him into the back,
jumping in on top of him.  Someone started up the engine while
the guys in back cheered and sang the school fight song.  As the
truck pulled onto the highway the boys in the back began to strip
Terry, yelling in triumph with each piece of clothing removed.
Shoes, socks, shirt, pants and underwear were all yanked off and
tossed out of the moving vehicle.  Soon the truck bounced to a
stop and Terry, still struggling, was again carried by the boys.
In the moonlight he could see they were at the same barn where he
had serviced Jim several times before.

     Mike Myers lit the lantern inside and they forced Terry to
his knees.  "Now," Myers said as he unzipped his trousers.
"You're gonna get to suck a real man's dick, you little homo."
He reached down and grabbed Terry roughly by the ears.  "And if
you so much as touch it with your teeth I'll cut your balls off
just like we do to the pigs on my daddy's farm."  He pulled Terry
forward and sank himself into the boy's mouth.  Myers began to
hump forward.  "Whoowee!  He's almost as good as a Kansas City
whore!"

     "That feel like Mary Ellen's cunt?" someone called out.
     "Better," Myers said.  "I don't have to worry about gettin'
him pregnant."  He quickly picked up the pace and was soon
climaxing in Terry's mouth.

     "Hey, look," another voice said.  "Tutti likes it.  He's
getting a boner."

     "Who's next?" Myers asked as he pulled back.

     "I am," came a deep voice, and the tall boy from Senior High
stepped forward.  "You guys put him over that hay bail," he
instructed.  "I don't want to look at no faggot in the face when
I fuck him.  I'm going to screw his ass."  Terry was jerked to
his feet, pushed across the room and shoved down over the
scratchy hay.  Two boys held him down on the painful surface
while two others grabbed his ankles, pulling his legs apart.
"Now this is how a man fucks one of these things," the tall boy
said as he stepped up.  He grabbed Terry's naked hips and
positioned himself, then without any preparation, shoved all the
way into the boy.  A scream wrenched from Terry's throat.
"Jesus, shut him up," Tony said as he began to work his body.
"Somebody shove something in his mouth to keep him quiet."

     "I got something that ought to fit," one of the others said.
At this point Terry began mercifully to lose consciousness.