Date: Thu, 16 Jun 2005 20:00:43 -0500
From: kenlou16 <kenlou16@yahoo.com>
Subject: Nudist Camp Vacation - Chapter 9

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The "Fine Print:"

If you've read the previous chapters, you know the drill.  If it's illegal
for you to be reading this, I can't stop you, but I wish you wouldn't.
Innocence is precious.  Keep it as long as you can!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The emails I've been getting are wonderful!  Please keep writing!

Be sure to donate to Nifty!  Keep this service free!  Just go to the
"Nifty" homepage and scroll down to "Please support the Nifty Archive," and
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organization.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Live simply, love generously, care deeply and speak kindly.  Leave the rest
to God.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

FROM THE END OF CHAPTER 8:

Stevey looked as if he was giving it some deep thought.  "No, I don't
understand.  Those things don't sound important.  Tim loves you!  He told
me!  Why don't you just love him back?  Tim's really cool!  I know he'll be
nice to you!  Just give him a chance!"

My vision of Robert told me that, too.  I sighed.  "Stevey, I can't.  Tim
has so much to learn and so many things to experience.  He's just starting
his life, and I'm past the middle of mine."

"So, if he needs to learn something, you can teach him!  Can't you just do
stuff together?"

Every time I think I have an answer, there seems to be a counter for it.
If it isn't Tim then it's Stevey.  I think they're comparing notes and
ganging up on me.

Tim walked in the door carrying my coffee, and I was relieved that my
conversation with Stevey was finished.  However, Tim's eyes were as big as
saucers; bigger than usual, I should say.

"Tim?  What's wrong?"

"Down the hall.  Everyone was running around like they were crazy.  That
sound we heard.  It was gun shots."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nudist Camp Vacation
CHAPTER 9


"Gun shots?  In a hospital?  What happened?"

"All I could find out was a cop shot someone.  It was on this floor at the
end of another wing.  There are cops all over the place!"

"Oh, my God!"  I wanted to quiz him more, but he just said that's all he
could find out.  The look on his face was perplexed.  Somehow, I knew he
found out all that he could, even though it wasn't much.  I thought of
turning on the television to listen to the news, but I knew the news
couldn't have made it to television that fast.

My cell phone rang.  Stevey handed it to me.  It was Frank.

"Frank!  What's up?"

"Things are happening, fast!  Are you sitting?"

It just occurred to me that he doesn't know where I am.  "Yeah.  Actually,
I'm in bed."

"In bed?  This late?"

"Yeah.  I'm in the hospital.  I had a heart attack."

"Good God!  Are you all right?  Should I call back later?"

"No!  I'm fine!  The cardiologist gave me a couple of stents and I'm fine,
now.  I'm just waiting for them to decide I'm good to go then they'll
spring me.  So, what's your news?"

"Wait a minute!  What hospital are you in?"

"Brackenridge.  Why?"

"What room?"

I told him.

"Hang up."

"What?"

"Just hang up."  The line went dead.

Weird call.  I shared a puzzled look with Tim and Stevey.

Tim asked, "What is it?"

"I have no idea.  He just said to hang up."  Just then, Frank burst through
the door.  I jumped.  When a dark "Hulk" comes blasting into your room, it
doesn't matter that he's a friend of yours, it still scares the crap out of
you.

"Alan!  Oh, hi Stevey. . . Tim.  It seems the three of you are inseparable
these days!"  He was paying special attention to Stevey.  He walked closer
to Stevey and put his hand on Stevey's shoulder.  "I think you'd better sit
down."  He looked at Tim, too.

One does not refuse Frank anything.  Tim and Stevey sat on the bed: Stevey
at my side and Tim at my feet.

I knew he had something to say, but I had to ask, "Frank, what in the Hell
is going on?"

"I've been keeping my eye out for new developments.  I stopped by to check
on our perp.  Didn't you know this is where they brought that low-life?"

Frank quickly turned to Stevey to see his reaction.  He didn't react.
Outwardly, he seemed perfectly nonplussed. Stevey was either not surprised
or his reactions were guarded.

"There's been a shooting in the hospital."

"Yeah, Tim just found that out.  What do you know about it?"

Frank looked at Tim appraisingly, then at me.  "How much does Tim know?"

"He knows everything."  I was getting the idea this had everything to do
with Stevey's molester.  Sometimes I'm slow to jump to conclusions, but I
thought that might be the connection.  Swift, huh?

"The guy is in this hospital, under guard.  Well, it seems one of the cops
guarding him had a young son that was kidnapped.  He's been missing for
over three years.  His son's photograph was found in the guy's van.  It was
one of the photographs that looked like it could've been taken by the perp.
The cop must have decided to get his own information out of the guy.  The
cop showed him a picture of his son and apparently, the guy admitted to
molesting him.  Then he taunted the cop.  Not the sharpest tack in the box!
He fired his gun into the floor several times, I guess to scare the guy
then he shot him once."  He looked at Stevey.  Frank's eyes clouded up and
his voice became soft.  "The guy said the cop's son is dead. . . .  Stevey,
I'm just glad it wasn't you."

While that was sinking in, he said in a soft voice, "Stevey, it may not be
over, yet.  They'll probably charge him with murder and he may still have
to go to trial for what he did to you and the others.  But if they convict
him of murder, they might never get to the pedophilia and molestation
charges."

Stevey stood and stepped up to Frank.  Then he did something completely
unexpected.  He reached his arms around Frank as far as he could get them
and they hugged.

There was silence until Stevey whispered, "Thank you, Frank.  He'll never
bother me again.  I know it."  When he released his embrace, Stevey and
Frank both wiped tears from their faces.  He came to me and draped himself
over me, one arm around my neck and the other around my side.  He lay on me
for what seemed several minutes as I hugged him back.  We were all silent.
It was as if we were paying homage to Stevey.

Stevey finally got up and looked at me while wiping his face dry.  "What
now?" he asked.

I swallowed hard and wiped the tears from my own face.  "Now, I guess it's
time for you to catch up on being a kid."  I knew that a part of him had
become far too mature for a kid his age, but he seems to have his head
screwed on pretty well in spite of it all.

I heard both Frank and Tim sniffling.  Frank pulled out his handkerchief
and blew his nose.  Tim found the tissues and used one.  We were all a wet
mess.

As Stevey and Tim hugged, Frank left to see if he could find out anything
else about the molester.  He returned a short time later.

The molester (Frank still wouldn't tell us his real name.) had been taken
into emergency surgery to remove the bullet.  He had been paralyzed from
the waist down.  The bullet shattered his spine.  The cop was under
immediate suspension, but because of the circumstances and his emotional
state, he might only be given a severe reprimand, submit to additional
training and counseling and eventually be returned to the police force.
Since the internal investigation had just started, none of this was
certain; however, speculation was upbeat.  We all said silent prayers for
the cop.

Tim stayed with me in my room the rest of the day.  Stevey watched us talk
between his short exploratory trips around the floor, to the gift shop and
to the cafeteria.  It seemed incredible that a 13 year old would be able to
tolerate a hospital that long and not be bored to tears, but he seemed to
be content.

Tim and I talked about books, movies, music, politics and religion.  We
solved the problems of the world.  I was beginning to enjoy our
conversations.  He was even there when the doctor stopped by.  The doc
announced that I was doing well, but he wanted me to stay at least two more
days.  The boys stayed until the nurse demanded they leave.

Tim snuck in the next morning before visiting hours to say, "Hi," before
his first day of work.  He was excited about his job, but he was being
entirely too attentive and it didn't help lessen my desire to see him.

I was glad that neither Tim nor Stevey had been around when "The Bandage"
had to be removed.  Likewise, they weren't present when the younger version
of the female Spanish Inquisition returned to remove their expert placement
of the subsequent, "Bandage from Hell."  It was the Titanic of Band-Aids.
They had neglected to tell me that the adhesive on the tape was permanent.
Permanent means "cannot be removed."  Therefore, it would be necessary to
peel away the flesh to which it was stuck, or at least it would feel like
it.

During the removal of the non-removable tape, it occurred to me that the
particular flesh to which it was affixed has a high density of nerve
endings.  I remember telling them that if they pulled it quickly it
wouldn't hurt so much.  I'm glad they knew better.  Pulling it slowly was
much less likely to tear the underlying skin, and so much more likely to
cause excruciating pain.  Since the tape was also stuck to virgin hair that
had missed the nurse's razor, I received an unwanted "waxing."  Slowly.
Follicle by follicle.  The entire time I was on the brink of screaming.  I
think they were just wreaking vengeance against all men for years of
oppression of the female of our species.  They gave new meaning to the
terms "sadism" and "torture."  Thinking back, I'm sure they fully intended
to apply this tape to my scrotum.

At least the removal of the Bandage from Hell allowed for the prominent
display of The Bruise from the Chamber of Horrors.  I've heard of people
having worse bruises, but they weren't on me and they weren't vacationing
in a nudist camp.  On top of that, spots were shaved on and around my chest
to apply heart monitor patches in an apparently random pattern.

The round patches had an adhesive.  That, in and of itself, wasn't a
problem.  What was a problem was that apparently I'm allergic to that
particular type of adhesive.  Now I have this flying saucer pattern of red
discs all over my torso.  I look like I've been branded.  In many places.
With a huge plum colored bruising from my pecker half way around my leg,
right next to my demented Hitler moustache.  In the nude, I look like a
diseased alien.  At least I feel better than I've felt in years.  Except
when I'm naked!

The evening after his first day of work Tim came to the hospital and stayed
until they kicked him out again.  I'm glad it was Friday before a three-day
weekend.  He can rest tomorrow.

During my stay, I did have other visitors.  Lucy, Bill, Mary (Bill's wife)
and of course, Nell, made several visits.  I guess I'm not completely
without friends.  They all met Tim and Stevey the first day, and they were
all quite curious.  Why not?  Tim and Stevey are exquisitely attractive
boys and they were paying me entirely too much attention to be seemly.  It
was as if they were displaying ownership of me and I was too dumb to know
how to stop it.  I'm sure I'm already being labeled a pedophile by all my
friends!

And the flowers!  If I'd died, they would have hidden the casket!  It'll
take forever to send all the "thank you" notes!

In spite of needing rest, Tim brought Stevey (Stevey wouldn't let Tim leave
the house for the hospital without him) for another visit Saturday morning
just as visiting hours began.  In spite of myself, I was glad to see them
both.  The doctor made his rounds about ten a.m. and released me into the
hands of my "sons."  (Grrrrr!)  I corrected Dr. "Prissypants," as I decided
to call him behind his back, but I didn't call Tim my boyfriend this time.
I introduced the boys as "my very good friends."

The doc gave me a strict, low fat, low-cholesterol diet to follow and
admonished me to take several prescriptions, religiously.  No excuses!  I
got the impression he'd send the Prescription Police around to check.  He
also told me to make a follow-up appointment for one week later, but to
call if I had any questions or changes in the meantime.

Just before we left, I called in a volunteer and asked her to distribute my
flowers to any patients she thought might like them.  She was ecstatic!  I
made sure I collected all the cards before we left.

Tim gave me a ride home.  Or rather to my motor home.  Tim had bought his
Mustang new four years before.  It looked as new as it must have when he
bought it.  Apparently, he always keeps it perfectly clean and waxed.  I'll
bet you can eat off the engine!

Tim drives quite well for a teenager.  His Mustang is one of those "SVO"
models with the too-big V-8 engine.  My kind of car!  The exhaust has the
most awe-inspiring growl!  For some reason, watching Tim drive turned me on
to the point of oxygen depravation.  My tool was solid steel, trying to
become a pressure blaster.  I'm having serious issues, here.  To calm
myself I had to close my eyes and picture myself in a monastery.  Tim kept
asking me if I was okay.  Of course, not!  I needed to get away from him,
but I couldn't tell him that!  Just being near him, smelling the lingering
odor of his cologne mixing with his maleness, I'm gonna die!  He must be
exuding that particular pheromone to which I'm most sensitive.  Tim's scent
is driving me to a sexual frenzy!  I feel like I'm a shark circling him in
the water and he's bleeding!  Any more of this and I'll be having a
spontaneous orgasm.  I can't stand it!  I rolled down the window.  I wanted
to hang my head out like a dog, but I thought that might be a bit much.  I
did wonder what it would feel like to have my tongue flap in the
wind. . . .

"Alan!  What's wrong?  And don't tell me, `nothing'!  I know something's
wrong!  I can see it in your face!"

I was always bad at hiding my feelings.  I smiled and looked at his rosy
cheeks.  His eyebrows are thin and straight.  His skin is so smooth.  I'm
dying, here!

"Tim, nothing's wrong!" I lied.  "I just love the smell of the air out
here."  That's true, but it's not why I rolled down the window.

He threw a glare at me.  He had to have known I was lying, but at least he
didn't know the truth!  (Or did he?)  The rest of the ride was silent.
Even Stevey must have sensed my sexual tension from the back seat.  He
cleared his throat and giggled.  Apparently, he's much more perceptive than
Tim is.  At least, I hope that's the case.  I don't want Tim to know what's
going on in my head.

Along the way, we dropped my prescriptions off at the supermarket and told
them we'd be back to pick them up.  We arrived at the camp and Tim drove
slowly to my motor home.

My instructions from Dr. Prissypants were that I couldn't lift a finger for
another week, so that put a damper on a good many activities.  (Does that
mean "no sex"?)  It was also going to be difficult to get back to my
exercise routine when I was free from my doctor-imposed purgatory.

Stevey jumped out of the back seat and was at my side as soon as I cleared
the car door.  He had his arm tightly around my waist, apparently to help
this old man walk.  It would have been easier to walk without his help, but
I couldn't tell him that.  Besides, I'm enjoying the closeness.  Tim was
quickly at my other side, once he retrieved my bag from his trunk.  I enjoy
that closeness, too, but perhaps too much.

I felt like such an invalid.  They led me to the middle of the couch and
sat me on it, handing me the remote for the entertainment equipment.  Then
Tim took my bag to the back and unpacked it and Stevey went to the `frig
and brought me a bottled water.  They must have plotted their actions
somehow.  They seemed too choreographed.

When they had me settled, they came and sat on either side of me on the
couch.  They both sat very close to me.  It occurred to me that their
"personal space" was almost nonexistent.  While I didn't mind having Stevey
that close (he's become like a son), I was a bit bothered by Tim's
proximity.  It was a relief that we were all clothed.

"Thank you, boys, but now I need to go back and pick up my prescriptions."
It should have occurred to me that the camp was far enough from the
supermarket that the prescriptions would be ready by the time we made a
round trip.


Tim jumped to his feet and said, "I'll do it!"

It occurred to me that my full name was on the prescriptions.  I still
wasn't ready to reveal my identity to Tim.  "No, it's something I have to
do."

Tim protested.  "But I can do it!  You need rest!"

I was tired and felt like vegging, but I knew I had to go.  "No, I need to
go.  You can drive, though, if you would."

He must have seen in my eyes how determined I was, because he backed off.
"Okay, let's go," he said softly.

He was moody on the way to the supermarket.  I got the feeling that either
Tim wanted to be alone with me, or he was put out because I wouldn't let
him do this for me.  He may even have still felt guilty about keeping
Stevey from me the first day I was in the hospital.  He didn't protest when
Stevey climbed into the back seat.

The ride to the store was silent.  It was so silent that it felt tense.
When we got to the store, Tim started to pull around to the drive through
window.

"Tim, could you park, please?  I need to go inside."

"Okay, but you can wait in the car.  I'll go inside for you."

"No, Tim.  I need to go inside," I said, sternly.  "You wait here.  I'll be
back in a minute."

"But someone should go with you, in case . . . in case you need help."  His
voice was tense.

I sighed.  "Stevey can come with me."

He had a pained look on his face.  He was hurt.  "Okay, I'll wait," he said
quietly.

Stevey followed me out of the car and into the store.  "Alan, Tim's really
pissed off at you!  Why are you being so mean to him?"

I looked at Stevey carefully.  I sighed.  "Stevey, I didn't intend to be
mean, but I had to get him to stay in the car.  The prescriptions will have
`Geoffrey' on them.  I can't let him know who I am.  At least not yet."

"But Alan, you're being a fucking asshole!  You're hurting Tim's feelings!"

I was a bit shocked at his language, but he was right.  "I'll make it up to
him, later.  And Stevey, please don't use that kind of language.  I know
you've been through a lot, but it doesn't look good to hear foul words like
that coming from such a beautiful face."  I stroked his hair and put my arm
around his shoulder.

He hesitated then smiled.  "Okay.  I'll try to fix my language.  But you
still have to be nicer to Tim!"

"I will."  I wasn't sure if I could follow through on that, but I would
have to try.

When we got to the counter, sure enough, the prescriptions were under
"Geoffrey" Stewart.  I patiently listened to the pharmacist's "counseling"
and we prepared to leave.

As we walked toward the door, I was struck by an inspiration.  While
passing the flower display, I saw a container of particularly beautiful
roses.  They had outer edges of orange fading to yellow at the center.  I
bought a single rose, a small spray of baby's breath and a single fern
frond.  I had the attendant wrap it together around the stem with green
tissue paper.  Then I bought a nice thank you card.

Stevey was ecstatic!  He was jumping and dancing all around me.  "Alan,
that's perfect!  He'll love it!"  I have to admit it brought a smile to my
face to think how Tim might react.

At the check out stand, I borrowed the checker's pen and wrote a quick note
in the card.  It said, "Tim, you'll never know how much I appreciate the
time you spent with me in the hospital.  You rescued my sanity.  Hugs,
Alan."  I thought that would be generic enough not to make him think
anything more than I wanted to convey.

When we got to the car, Tim was fuming.  He must have spent the entire time
while he was alone in the car thinking about how unfair I had been to him.
I hate myself for that, but I couldn't think of an alternative!

Stevey climbed in the back seat, his face beaming, and I climbed carefully
into the front, hiding my precious purchase.  Tim's face was red.  He
refused to look at me.  He was looking straight ahead, as he started the
car and put it in gear.  When he turned to look over his shoulder to see if
it was clear to back out of the parking space, he was forced to look in my
direction.  I was silently holding the rose between us with a small smile
on my face.

Tim's jaw dropped and his forehead wrinkled when he saw the rose.  He
glanced up at me as if to say, "For me?"  My smile got bigger and I nodded,
still in silence.

I got a reaction I wasn't expecting.  Tim's eyes clouded as he reached for
the flower.  He held it to his nose and sniffed fitfully.  I don't know
whether he was weeping or smelling the rose.  He swallowed hard and wiped
his eyes.

"No one ever gave me a rose before," he whispered.

I handed him the card.  Tim looked at it in disbelief.  He finally shifted
the car to neutral and pulled the brake.  His hands were shaking as he took
the card carefully from my hand.  I really didn't expect such an emotional
response!

Tim opened the card and carefully read every word.  When he finished, he
wiped his nose with his hand and sniffed.  Slowly, he put the card back in
the envelope and looked at me.  He reached over to me and put his arms
around my neck.  He pulled me closer to him and buried his face in my neck.

I hadn't wanted to, but watching Tim's reaction made me weep, too.  I felt
a damned tear roll down my cheek!  I'm not supposed to do this!  This isn't
supposed to be such a sentimental moment!

When Tim started slobbering on my neck, I gasped and pushed him away.  This
could NOT turn into a heavy petting session!  I whispered, "Tim, please!
We have children in the car!"

"WHAT?" Stevey blurted from the back seat.  "I'm not children!  If you
don't kiss him, I'm gonna get pissed off!"

I looked at Tim directly in the eyes and chuckled.  He was smiling back.
Good!  The rose and card had done their work, well.  He was back to normal.
I quietly breathed a sigh of relief.  Then Tim leaned toward me.  He was
about to kiss me!  In public!

I backed up a few inches and looked around, self-consciously.  "No, Tim.
Not here!"

He backed away, but seemed to accept my protest.  Tim whispered, "Okay.
Thank you, Alan."

I chuckled.  "You're welcome.  I meant what I said.  You'll never know how
important it was to me for you to visit me in the hospital."  I grabbed his
shoulder and squeezed.

Tim put his hand on mine, trapping it.  He turned his head and kissed my
hand, then looked into my eyes with that hungry-puppy look of his.  Oh,
God, I want him!  I just wish he were twenty or thirty years older!
Actually, I don't.  If he were suddenly my age, he'd have missed too much
of his life!

He relaxed his grip on my hand and I quickly retrieved it.  He placed the
rose and card carefully on his lap.  We vacated the parking space for the
grateful driver of a waiting car and drove back to the camp.  Several times
along the way, he lifted the rose to his nose and sniffed.  I could
suddenly see it pressed in a book as his first rose!  Just when I think
I've pulled myself out of hot water, I get in deeper!  It would have been
much better for his first love to give him his first rose!  What was I
thinking?

When we returned to my bus, before I got out Tim asked, "Alan, will you be
alright?  I want to put this rose in some water.  It's beginning to wilt."

It was obvious that he cherished it.  Part of me was enraptured with this
tender, emotional youth and part of me was self-loathing for taking this
moment from his first experience with love.  "I'll be fine.  I need to lie
down and rest a bit, anyway.  You and Stevey run along.  Thanks for
bringing me home and then taking me to the store.  I'll see you later."

I slowly climbed out of the car.  My muscles had moved so little over the
last three days, I was stiff and I was moving like a crippled old man.
Stevey jumped out of the back seat and grabbed me around my middle in a
stifling embrace.  His face was plastered to my chest.  Of course, I hugged
him back.  After a long moment, he looked up at me and whispered, "Alan, I
love you."  Another quick hug and he jumped in the front seat and slammed
the door.

I stood beside the car, partly stunned.  Stevey was still full of mystery
and surprise.  I watched as Tim drove slowly back toward their residence at
the visitor's center.

I was finally on my own again and I was exhausted.  I climbed into the bus
and headed to the bathroom.  I opened and organized my new prescriptions
and took the first doses.  All I could think about was lying down on my own
bed and crashing.  At the foot of the bed, I kicked off my shoes, untucked
my shirt, loosened my belt and top button of my pants and crawled onto the
bed.  A scant second after I pulled the spread over me, I was asleep.

Some time later, I woke with a start.  Did I hear a noise?  Where am I?
Oh, yeah: bus, nudist camp, heart attack, empty bed, solitude.  Physically,
I felt rejuvenated.  Emotionally, I was bankrupt.  So, this is the source
of my malaise!  I finally reduced it all to the lowest common denominator!
I need someone!  It should have been such an obvious thing, but I've been
trying for so long to recover from Robert's loss and missing him, that I
just couldn't bring myself to accepting that I need someone in my life.
Not a replacement for Robert; no one could do that.  Rather, I need someone
with whom to share.  Someone who needs me just as much as I need him.

I was jolted back to the real world by a loud frantic banging on the door.
There was a muffled shouting.  "Alan!  Alan!  Let me in!"  More banging.

The receding sun cast little light into the dark bus.  I jumped from the
bed and ran toward the front, nearly tripping over my own feet.  I had to
fumble to find my way.  "Coming!  I'm coming!"  I got up too fast.  My
vision started to grow dim.  I had to stop and fall to my knees.  Okay,
head between knees!  Don't pass out!

More banging and shouting.  "Alan!  Are you all right?  ALAN!"

"Just a minute!  I'm coming!"  Slowly everything fell back into place and I
climbed to my feet.  I walked, this time deliberately, to the door, turning
on a couple of lights, and opened it.

Tim jumped to the top of the stairs and grabbed me in a desperate embrace.
"Alan!  You're all right!  Alan!  I thought . . ." he cried and kissed my
neck.

"Tim!  I'm fine!  I was asleep!" I said in a strained whisper.  His despair
was gut wrenching.  Oh, my God!  He's naked and I've got my hands all over
him!  I'm not ready for this!  He pressed the full length of his smoothly
sculpted muscular form against me as he brought his mouth to my lips.  I
felt his damp cheek against mine as he gulped and parted my lips with his
tongue.  Naturally, part of me went instantly rigid.  Clothes can be so
confining and at the same time shielding.  At least my cramped erection was
hidden!  For someone new to this, he kisses entirely too well!

I gently stopped him.  I didn't want to anger him as I had done earlier,
but I was into "input overload."  I guess being suddenly awakened had my
defenses down.  "Tim!  I'm fine!  Really, I'm fine!  Come sit down."  I
tried to take his hand and lead him to the couch.  As I looked down (It was
instinct, I swear!), I saw he was erect, too.  He's so perfect!  I'm dying
inside!  Lightning will strike me at any moment and I'll be damned to the
fiery pit!

He finally let me lead him to the couch by the hand.  I sat him down and
sat a short distance away, turning toward him with my leg on the couch.  It
was a defensive position: one that kept him at a distance.  "Tim, we need
to talk."

"Alan, can we talk later?  Mom sent me to get you.  She wants you to come
to dinner."

I should have expected this, but I'm not up to socializing.  "I can't.  I'm
still very tired and I need some rest.  I didn't get any rest in the
hospital."  Tim looked very disappointed.  "Tell you what.  Let me call
your mom and talk to her.  If she's half as nice as her son, she'll
understand."  Tim grinned at the compliment.

Still half asleep, I looked around for where I might have left my cell
phone.  I finally remembered it was in the bag Tim had unpacked in the
bedroom.  "Tim, when you unpacked that bag, where'd you put my cell?"

"It's on your nightstand!  I'll get it."  Tim jumped up and hurried to the
back.

Tim's bubble butt does this voluptuous undulation thing when he walks.  On
top of that, there's no crease between his cheeks and thighs.  His rear
visage is superbly alluring.  If desire were money, I could buy and sell
Bill Gates by the thousands!  This just isn't right!

He quickly returned with my cell, punching his mother's number into it
while he walked.  He held it up to his ear.  "Hi, Mom?  Alan wants to talk
to you."  He handed it to me.

That little kindness was so nice.  He introduced me to his mother, making
it effortless to glide into a conversation with her.  I smiled my thanks to
him.  "Hello, Mrs. Smith?"

"Alan, please call me Rita!"

"Rita, thank you!  I want to thank you for the invitation to dinner, but
I'm absolutely exhausted.  I don't know how anyone can go to a hospital for
rest when it's so impossible to rest there."

"Oh, please don't worry about it, Alan!  I'm sure you do need some rest
after what you've been through!  Don't give it another thought!  We'll just
have to get together some other time."

"Thank you, Rita!  Somehow, I knew Tim's mother would be so gracious.  He
could only have learned his good manners and caring attitude from his
parents!"  I looked at Tim.  He was cringing.  I guess he found that
comment to be patronizing.  I'll have to be more sensitive to his ego in
the future.

"I'd like to meet you.  Maybe tomorrow before I leave."  Tim recoiled then
dropped his head.  Sadness enveloped him.  Even sad he's breathtaking.

"You're leaving tomorrow?  I'm sorry, but I understand.  I should be around
after church.  I hope to see you then."

"Thank you, Rita.  Me, too."  She was quite gracious, indeed.  I looked at
Tim.  His expression was adorable.  He was pouting.

"Alan, I know you have to go, but do you have to go so soon?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so.  Here, let me write down my phone numbers and address
so you can reach me."  That perked him up.  I retrieved some paper and a
pen from a hidden drawer in the couch and wrote two copies of my contact
information, neglecting only my business number.  That would have been a
give-away!  Folding each and handing them to Tim I said, "One of these is
for Stevey.  Be sure to give it to him."

"I will.  I promise."  He looked at me sadly.  "Stevey loves you, you
know."  He hesitated, and then said in a low voice.  "But not half as much
as I do."

"Tim, we can't go on doing this!  I've been giving this a great deal of
thought.  You've been wonderful to me since we met just a week ago.  You
were wonderful to me when I was in the hospital.  I don't know what I would
have done without you.  But, you and I can only be friends.  I know you
want more, but that's all I have to give.  I'm sorry, Tim.  You'll find
someone closer to your own age that will make you happy.  I'm just too old
for you.  If you still don't understand, some day you will."

He scrunched up his face when he looked at me.  I could see him swallowing
to hold back his emotions.  Finally, he dropped his head and nodded.
Without looking at me or saying a word, he rose from the couch and walked
straight out the door, closing it quietly behind him.

I watched him leave in disbelief.  I actually wanted him to protest, but he
gave up without an argument.  He was pursuing me and I had never encouraged
him.  In fact, I was doing everything I could to discourage him from loving
me.  So, why did it feel like I was losing my love all over again?  My
throat closed so tight I thought I would choke.  Then a flood of tears
burst from my eyes, the likes of which I hadn't experienced since Officer
Bauers told me about Robert.  I want to die!  I just can't do this anymore.
Why didn't I just die when I had the heart attack?

It was fully dark when my emotions at last subsided.  I was all cried out
and I felt completely drained.  I drank a glass of milk and got ready for
bed.  This time I undressed.

While brushing my teeth, I checked out my spotty loss of body hair and my
horrific bruise.  The purple hue of the insult to my groin had yet to begin
to heal.  My guess is that the blood thinner I'm now taking will slow that
process.

I finished and dragged myself slowly to bed, turning out the lights behind
me.  Crawling into the bed, I pulled the covers around me.  My eyes were
wet when I closed them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To be continued . . . .