Date: Tue, 9 Nov 2004 16:00:29 -0800 (PST)
From: Lee Nilsen <paradevo@yahoo.com>
Subject: OLD MAN BRODY

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction.

Author's Note: Please email any comments to me at paradevo@yahoo.com


OLD MAN BRODY

by Lee Nilsen (paradevo@yahoo.com)

	It was the bottom of the ninth.  Eighteen year old Douglas Martin
held his bat steady as kept his eyes pinned on the pitcher's right hand,
which badly concealed the baseball.  Doug narrowed his eyes, waiting for
the pitch to come, trying to predict its curve.

	"Come on, Dougie!" Greg Holmes yelled from the curb.  "We need a
home run!"

	The pitcher let loose with a would-be curve ball that didn't have
quite enough spin.  Doug saw it coming.  He tightened his grip on the bat
and heard the sweet crack as he connected with the ball as that perfect
angle.  BAM!  Doug smiled as the ball flew into the air, but his smile
quickly faded as he heard glass shattering.

	"Shit," Doug said.

	The smart, if not moral, thing to do at that moment would have been
to drop the bat and run for it.  The other boys were scattering, but Doug
simply stood there, debating whether or not to own up to what he had done.

	He might not have hesitated to take the blame if the broken window
hadn't belonged to Old Man Brody.  Mr. Brody was notorious for being very
bad tempered, always keeping whatever flying objects landed in his yard and
frequently yelling at kids for playing in the sidewalk (possibly, as it
seemed, with good reason).  Nobody wanted to mess with Old Man Brody.

	As Doug stood holding the bat, he saw the door to Mr. Brody's house
opening up.  He knew this was the time to run, but he couldn't get his feet
to move.  He saw a pair of wheels poking out of the door-Mr. Brody's
wheelchair.  He wheeled himself a few feet outside the door.  "Hey, kid!"
Mr. Brody yelled, staring at Doug with fury in his face.  "You!  What the
hell did you do to my window?!"

	And that was the moment Doug picked to run.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Doug couldn't shake the feeling of guilt he had over what he had
done to Old Man Brody's window.  Here was Mr. Brody, this old man confined
to a wheelchair, and he had smashed in his window and just left him to fix
it and pay for the damage himself.  Doug hated himself.

	At dinner, Doug just stared down at his food, making piles with his
mashed potatoes.  He couldn't even look his parents in the eye.  Every five
minutes, he resolved to go back over to Mr. Brody's house and confess what
he had done, then five minutes later he chickened out.

	"Why aren't you eating, Doug?" his father asked.

	"I had a big lunch," Doug mumbled.

	His father shook his head.  "I still think you ought to have a
summer job.  The summer before my senior year of high school, I got a job
as an auto mechanic.  A kid your age shouldn't be lazing around all summer
doing nothing.  That's why you've got no appetite."

	Doug shrugged his slim shoulders and went back to playing with his
mashed potatoes.  He knew his father wouldn't push the issue.  He was too
busy with his work to pay much attention to Doug or his siblings.  Harvey
Martin got home every day just in time for dinner, then went straight to
his desk in the den to continue working.

	The phone rang and Doug's mother stood up to answer it.  When she
said, "Oh, hello Mr. Brody," Doug nearly jumped out of his seat.  Doug
could see his mother's face darkening as she listened to the voice on the
other line.  "Thank you for letting me know, Mr. Brody.  You have my word
you will be compensated," she said to him.

	Doug's mother slammed down the phone and looked over at her son.
"Doug, did you break Mr. Brody's window?"

	Doug lowered his eyes.  "Yes."

	"And you just... ran away?"

	Doug didn't say anything.

	"You just ran away!" his father yelled in disbelief.  "You're an
adult now-you have to start taking responsibility for your actions.  Is
that how we taught you to act, young man?"

	Doug shook his head slowly.

	His father slammed his fist down on the table.  "I told you he
should get a summer job, Elise!"

	"Well, he's going to have one now," his mother said.  "Doug, every
afternoon for the rest of the summer I want you to go to Mr. Brody's house
and help him with chores.  You're going to do this until he decides you've
paid him back for the window."

	"What?" Doug yelped.  "Oh, come on, Mom..."

	"I don't want to hear another word," his mother said.  "Even if
you're still helping him when school starts, you're going to do this until
Mr. Brody says your debt is repaid."

	"But he's an asshole!" Doug cried.  "He'll have me working there
forever!"

	"Douglas, language!" his mother said.

	Doug hung his head, cursing silently to himself.  He had been
looking forward to hanging out this summer with his pals, maybe meeting
some girls.  He didn't want to spend the summer doing chores for some old
man.  As they pointed out, he was an adult now legally, and his parents
shouldn't have been able to force him to carry out this punishment.  But as
his dad figured, as long as he was living under their roof for free, he had
to obey their rules.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

	The guys were playing softball again the next afternoon (at a
different location, of course), but Doug couldn't play.  Instead, he showed
up at Mr. Brody's door in old jeans and a T-shirt at promptly 1PM for work
duty.  It took him almost a minute to work up the nerve to ring Mr. Brody's
doorbell.

	The old man took a while to answer the door.  Doug supposed the
wheelchair slowed him down a lot.  When Mr. Brody finally answered the
door, Doug was surprised.  He had never seen the old man nearly this close
before and now he realized Mr. Brody wasn't actually that old.  In fact, he
was probably younger than Doug's dad.  He wasn't a bad looking guy either.
Somehow, the graying hair, the spectacles, and the wheelchair had fooled
the neighborhood kids into thinking he was an old man.

	"You're late," Mr. Brody snapped.  "You were supposed to be here at
one."

	Doug looked at his watch, which read two minutes after one.
"Sorry," he said.

	"Well, get inside," Mr. Brody ordered.  "I've got a lot of work for
you to do."

	As Doug walked inside, he couldn't help but admire Mr. Brody's
house.  It was spotless.  He wondered how Mr. Brody kept it so clean, being
in a wheelchair as he was.

	"I've got a cleaning woman who comes every other day," Mr. Brody
told Doug, as if reading his mind.  "But don't worry, there's still plenty
for you to do."

	Mr. Brody set Doug to work repainting a bookcase that was starting
to chip.  It really wasn't that hard work-in fact, it was sort of fun.  As
Doug painted, he found his mind wandering to thoughts of his new employer.
Doug had always assumed he was in a wheelchair because he was old.  But now
Doug wondered.  Mr. Brody had a blanket covering his legs (which had added
to his "old man" appearance) and he had what looked like the wrist guards
that Doug used when he rollerbladed.  It was all very strange.

	Doug finished the bookcase off in about two hours.  He called out,
"Mr. Brody, I'm finished!"

	Presently, Mr. Brody wheeled into the room and inspected the
bookcase.  "It looks okay," he grumbled.  He looked Doug's slim body up and
down, examining his paint-covered outfit.  "Fine, you can go now.  But
you're coming back tomorrow."  It wasn't a question.

	Doug nodded, afraid to say anything more.  He ran out to find his
friends and see if it wasn't too late to join the game.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

	When Eric Brody had called the Martin house about his broken
window, he had expected Mrs. Martin to offer him money, not her son.  Eric
hadn't been all that interested in having a teenager coming over to do
chores for him every day, but Elise Martin had been so insistent.  "He
could even read to you if you'd like," Mrs. Martin had said.

	Eric had laughed at that, although not out loud.  What did she
think he was-a blind 80 year old invalid?  Eric knew the kids in town
referred to him as "Old Man Brody" and since he rarely left his house, most
of the adults in town had gotten the idea that he was elderly.  In fact,
Eric was 38 years old, although his light brown hair had been graying at
the temples for quite a while now.

	Eric didn't mind the rumors that he was a grumpy old man, because
it generally kept the kids away from his house.  He couldn't stand kids,
partially because he felt that he had been robbed of half of his own
childhood.  The better half.  Eric was injured when he was thirteen years
old and consequently lost mobility and sensation in his lower body as well
as the ability to move his fingers.  He finished off high school being
tutored at home.

	Considering his limitations, Eric was very independent.  He wore
splints on his wrists to stabilize his hands, which made it possible for
him to do activities such as typing.  He had a job in computers that paid
quite well and allowed him to work at home.  He was also able to attach
utensils and other objects to the wrist splints so that he was able to feed
himself and even write with a pen (although he did very little writing with
his hand, other than signing his name).

	Eric used the palms of his hands to push a mechanical wheelchair,
because he hated the ideal of having to rely on a electrical wheelchair.
He also had a mechanical sling device that he used at night and in the
morning to help him from his bed to the wheelchair and back.  He wore
simple shirts that didn't need to be buttoned and he usually just covered
his legs with a large blanket over his boxers.  He used an indwelling
catheter, which he was able to change himself with some difficulty.  As a
result, he was completely independent in his own home.

	Of course, there were some tasks that Eric had to hire others to
do.  There was a woman who bought him groceries twice a week, a woman who
cleaned every other day, and there was a man who came three times a week
for "physical therapy".  Physical therapy consisted of stretching out and
massaging the muscles in Eric's legs and hands.  He didn't enjoy it, but he
knew it was necessary.

	Eric had another weekly routine that he did enjoy, however.  Once a
week or sometimes every other week, a male prostitute came to Eric's house
and pleasured him for the span of a couple of hours.  Whichever one it
happened to be that week, they were always very discreet and he was pretty
sure nobody in the neighborhood knew about it.

	This was a habit Eric had gotten into a while back.  He was
bisexual, liking both women and men, but he found that he preferred men
when given the choice.  It didn't matter much though, because he found it
very difficult to strike up relationships with either sex.  Eric had been
largely isolated since age 13 and now he felt uncomfortable around most
people.

	When he turned 28 and realized he had never gotten laid, he decided
something had to be done.  He made a few desperate attempts to meet women
and men, through ads and online, but none of his attempts were even
remotely successful.  Additionally, he felt that he was so horny and worked
up about having sex, when the time actually came, he'd just blow it
somehow.

	So at age 28, Eric made the hard decision to go ahead and hire a
prostitute.  He decided he wanted his first sexual experience to be with a
woman, since girls intimidated him less.  After he made the decision, he
was very excited about it, although admittedly very nervous.  He was
worried about diseases, that the girl might turn and rob him, or a hundred
other scenarios that had crossed his mind.  He did a lot of research before
he found the right girl.

	"The right girl" was a prostitute named Cherry.  She was somewhat
pretty, he supposed, and in her mid-thirties.  She dressed discreetly, as
he had asked her to.  He remembered opening the door for her, his body
trembling with anticipation.  He had been too nervous at first to get an
erection, but she had been so gentle.  It was his first sexual contact with
a woman and the site of her sucking his hard penis floored him.

	He alternated between men and women at that point.  He enjoyed his
time with the men more, but he didn't like to think of himself as gay, so
he still occasionally called for women.  He still made a few attempts to
meet people he might be able to start a real relationship with, but it was
beginning to seem like it would never happen.  About four years ago, around
the same time his mother passed on, he stopped calling women altogether and
began his weekly regimen of male prostitutes.

	Yes, he had a few bad experiences.  The problem with many of the
places was he never knew what he was going to get until she showed up at
the door.  When he was still seeing women, often a woman would show up who
was easily old enough to be Eric's mother.  In that situation, he usually
figured since he was paying for it anyway, he may as well take the sex.
Being sucked off was way better than masturbating, which was extremely
difficult for him to do anyway, with his fingers immobilized.

	He had been robbed only once, but it had been a truly awful
experience.  It would have been better if the guy stuck a gun to his head
and took all his stuff, but instead he got him into his bed, removed all
his clothes and his hand splints, then trashed his house and robbed him
blind.  He even trashed his wheelchair, the fucker.  After he was gone,
Eric managed to drag himself out of bed to a working phone, but he hadn't
called the police.  He called his physical therapist John, made up some
story, and John had come over to help him.  He never called the police
because he knew it would be a scandal in the neighborhood.  Better just to
swallow his losses and leave it at that.

	Eric wasn't unhappy with his life.  He was almost completely
independent, which was something that had always been very important to
him.  He considered himself a loner, so it was nice that he could work out
of his home and had people to do his outdoors chores for him.  And he
probably got laid more frequently than most men on his block.  All in all,
it was a pleasant existence.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Doug was miserable the first few days he worked for Mr. Brody, but
he eventually started warming up to him.  Mr. Brody liked to act like an
asshole, but he really wasn't like that at all.  He was actually a really
nice guy.

	Initially, Mr. Brody had Doug doing chores in his yard and
elaborate jobs around the house, but eventually he started allowing Doug to
help him with some more mundane tasks.  Doug noticed that Mr. Brody
couldn't move his hands very well, which was why he had the splints, so
doing simple things like pouring himself a glass of juice was a difficult
task for him.  Doug had spied on him one afternoon when he had stayed late,
preparing his dinner.  Although his maid or cook or whoever had already
prepared a plate of food for him, he still had to heat it up in the
microwave, which took a lot of effort on his part in terms of balancing.
Doug watched Mr. Brody slowly removing the plate from the fridge,
concentrating all his effort on not dropping it.

	After that, Doug got into the habit of preparing Mr. Brody's dinner
for him before he left.  Mr. Brody never asked, of course, but Doug thought
he seemed grateful for the help.  After all, it was a very simple and quick
matter for Doug to pop the plate into the microwave or pour a glass of soda
and put a straw in it.

	Doug liked talking to Mr. Brody too.  Doug's dad was rarely home so
in some ways, Mr. Brody became a bit of a father figure to him.  They
talked about sports a lot, which Doug loved.  Mr. Brody said that when he
was a kid, he used to like to play softball a lot too, although he had to
give it up when he was injured.  Doug even confessed to Mr. Brody about
this girl from school that he sort of liked, although that seemed to make
him a little uncomfortable.  Doug wondered if Mr. Brody ever dated,
considering it seemed like he never even left his house.

	Doug wondered what it was like for Mr. Brody to live his life.
There were questions Doug had that he would never ever ask, such as how did
he manage to go to the bathroom.  There was some sort of contraption over
his bed that seemed to be used to help him get in and out, but Doug still
found it hard to believe he was able to do that by himself every morning
and night.  Once or twice in the privacy of his room, Doug pretended he
didn't have use of his fingers and he found it very difficult to do even
the easiest tasks.  But he supposed Mr. Brody had a lot of experience.

	Another thing Doug wondered about was whether or not Mr. Brody
jerked off.  As an eighteen year old kid, sex was always on Doug's mind and
he couldn't imagine how Mr. Brody could live his life without it.  Doug
could hardly go a day without jacking off, but he didn't see how Mr. Brody
could do it with his hands paralyzed.

	As the summer went on, Doug found himself spending more and more
time at Mr. Brody's house.  Lately, he found himself bringing food and
staying for dinner a couple of nights a week.  It seemed to Doug that
Mr. Brody was a lonely man and really enjoyed the company, even though he
wouldn't admit it.  And once or twice a week, Mr. Brody slipped Doug a ten
dollar bill on his way out the door to thank him for the work he had done.

	All in all, it was a pretty nice arrangement.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Even though Doug had gotten in the habit of helping out with some
of Mr. Brody's simpler tasks around the house, it was always because he
volunteered-Mr. Brody never ever asked for help.  Except for once, when
Doug was working there for a little over three weeks.

	Doug was cleaning up some clutter in the kitchen when he heard
Mr. Brody calling his name.  Doug heard the urgency in his voice and came
running.  To Doug's surprise, he was calling from within the bathroom.

	"Mr. Brody," said Doug.  "Should I come in?"

	"Yeah," Mr. Brody said.  "If you don't mind..."

	Doug opened the door and saw Mr. Brody in his wheelchair, next to
the toilet.  The blanket covering his legs had been pulled down and was all
wet.  There was a thin tube on the edge of the toilet seat.  "I had a bit
of a mishap," Mr. Brody explained, his face turning a little red.  "My leg
bag spilled while I was changing my catheter."

	That answered Doug's question about how Mr. Brody went to the
bathroom.  "No problem," Doug said quickly.  "I'll help you get cleaned
up."

	Doug went to the closet and got another blanket, and put the wet
blanket in the hamper.  Mr. Brody's boxers hadn't gotten wet, so that
didn't need to be changed.  Doug helped out by opening up a new catheter
for him to insert before he started cleaning up the spilled urine in the
bathroom.

	Out of the corner of his eye, Doug watched Mr. Brody attempting to
insert the catheter.  Mr. Brody's penis was flaccid and circumcised.  He
was supporting his penis with one hand while he slowly slowly brought the
catheter toward his urethra with his other hand.  On his first attempt, he
missed the hole.  On his second attempt, he dropped the catheter
completely.

	"Sorry about that," Mr. Brody said as Doug opened up a new
catheter.  "Usually I'm a little better at this."

	"If you want, I can do it," Doug offered.

	"Uh... that's okay."

	"It's really no problem, Mr. Brody."

	Mr. Brody looked at Doug through his spectacles.  "Well... I guess
it would be faster that way..."

	Mr. Brody gave Doug instructions on what to do.  Doug held
Mr. Brody's penis in his left hand to steady it.  He then brought the end
of the tube into Mr. Brody's urethra, instinctively wincing as it went in.
He pushed it deeper in, past a point of resistance, then all of a sudden,
urine began to flow into the attached bag.  Doug was smiling with his
achievement until he noticed that Mr. Brody's penis had become somewhat
erect.

	"Don't mind that," Mr. Brody said, blushing again.  "Because of my
spinal cord injury, there's no connection between my penis and my brain.
So when someone touches my penis, it usually, you know, gets hard."

	"Don't worry about it," Doug assured him.  He felt a little bit
uncomfortable, but it wasn't Mr. Brody's fault that this had happened.
"And if you ever need help in here again, just ask me."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Eric was impressed with how calm Doug had been when he asked for
help in the bathroom.  Doug had handled Eric's penis expertly.  Eric had
been telling the truth about the connection between his mind and his dick
being severed, but that didn't mean he wasn't very turned on by the site of
Doug handling his penis.

	Eric was doing his best not to fall for Doug.  It was hard to have
a good looking eighteen year old kid with a great body doing chores around
his house every day without getting a little bit turned on, but it was
unrealistic to think anything would ever happen with Doug.  Doug saw Eric
as more of a father figure, as evidenced by the fact that he was still
calling him "Mr. Brody" even after Eric had told him more than once it was
okay to call him by his first name.

	Still, when Eric was jerking off or even when he was with his
"weekly visitors", he was thinking about Doug.  How great it would be to
have Doug's lips wrapped around his cock.  Or Doug fucking him in the ass.
But the Martins probably wouldn't approve of that.

	Eric guessed that Doug had no idea what he was thinking.  Doug
acted a lot younger than eighteen years old and even though he was pretty
attractive, he had never had much in the way of relationships.  Doug
probably wasn't a virgin either though.  Nowadays, it seemed like all the
teenagers were having sex.  But not the crippled ones, of course.

	Eric had been a teenager back in the eighties.  At age 13, he had
been riding his bike and a car had slammed into him, throwing him 30 feet
into the air.  The next thing he knew, he was in the hospital in a neck
brace.  Because of the swelling in his spinal cord, he could barely move
his arms at all initially, and none of the doctors could give him a
straight answer regarding whether he ever would.  The first month was
probably the hardest, being fed all his meals by nurses, unable to even
scratch his nose.

	His parents decided that he had to continue with his education,
although Eric didn't see the point.  They hired tutors to work with him
while in the hospital, then later in rehab.  As he regained more movement
in his arms, Eric felt more motivated to learn.  He opted to continue his
high school education in his home, and he completed his college education
largely through correspondence courses.

	Eric worked very hard to get to the stage of independence where he
was now.  It wasn't easy to perform his activities of daily living without
being able to manipulate his hands.  He could move his wrists fairly well,
but he kept the splints on so that they didn't flop down.  It kept his
hands steady so that he could attach utensils to the splints, etc.  Eric
was told by doctors and physical therapists that he would never be able to
live independently, and now here he was, proving them all wrong.

	Still, Eric sometimes felt that he had missed out on some very
important part of life.  When he saw kids like Doug out having fun with
their friends or girlfriends, he regretted missing out on that experience.
Eric spent his teenage years at home with his parents, lusting over Patrick
Swayze on TV.  He hadn't been to one party since age 13, never experimented
with drugs, and never had sex with someone where it wasn't for money.

	Eric knew that he had isolated himself from most of humanity, which
was one of the reasons it was nice having Doug around.  Even though Doug
was just a kid, he was the first friends Eric had had in a very long time.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

	One of Eric's favorites was a young man named Mario.  Mario was
from Puerto Rico, with a sexy accent and even sexier mouth.  Eric asked
Mario to come over in the morning, thinking they'd be long finished by the
time Doug arrived.

	As usual, Mario arrived dressed in a business suit.  Eric let him
in and Mario began stripping before the front door was even closed.  Eric
stared at the younger man's tanned, hairless chest and bit his lip hard.
Mario was so beautiful.  He pulled off his pants and was wearing only thong
leopard-patterned underwear by the time they got to the bedroom.

	Mario smiled at the expression on Eric's face.  "You want me,
amigo?"

	"Fuck yeah," Eric breathed.

	The great thing about Mario was that Eric didn't have to instruct
him on what to do.  They had been together enough times that Mario knew the
drill.  He lifted Eric out of his wheelchair and placed him on the bed.

	Mario undressed Eric.  He pulled off his shirt, then his boxers,
and took off his glasses.  Because he trusted Mario, Eric allowed him to
removed the splints from his hands and pull the catheter out of his penis.
If Mario hadn't been so familiar with Eric's body, Eric might have felt a
little self-conscious.  When Eric looked at his own body, he didn't like
what he saw-the painfully thin, knobby legs, the bulge of his flaccid
abdomen, the twisted and useless fingers.  But Mario was paid to like his
body.

	Mario climbed on top of Eric and got on his knees so that his penis
hung down in Eric's face.  Eric lifted his arms so that his hands dug into
Mario's ass, pushing his body closer so that Eric could take his dick into
his mouth.  Mario had a beautiful dick, very large and silky smooth,
uncircumcised.  Eric sucked the hell out of it as Mario stuffed it deeper
and deeper down his throat.  He thought he might choke at one point, but he
was loving every second of it.  When Mario finally came, shooting his load
into Eric's mouth, Eric swallowed it down greedily, licking his lips for
more.

	Now it was Eric's turn.  Mario worked Eric's nipples for a few
minutes, sucking on them until they were hard little mounds.  Eric moaned
with pleasure.  "You're so fucking sexy, Mario," he murmured, rubbing his
twisted hands against Mario's dark hair.

	Eric propped himself up on his elbows to watch Mario suck his dick.
He couldn't really feel it, but it turned him on immensely to watch.  He
got very hard too, although his penis was barely half the size of Mario's
at its full length.  Mario patiently sucked him off, also giving attention
to his balls.  It was a process that could sometimes take a while, but Eric
didn't feel rushed.  A few times, he closed his eyes and imagined it was
Doug's mouth on his dick.

	When Eric finally came, he felt the orgasm like a warm blanket over
his entire body, even the parts he couldn't usually feel.  It was
wonderful.  Mario swallowed his cum, rather than snowballing it back to
Eric which he occasionally did, depending on mood.

	They lay in bed together, Mario smoking a cigarette and Eric simply
enjoying the euphoria of his recent orgasm.  Eric was so relaxed, he didn't
even realize it was one o'clock until he heard the doorbell ring.  "Oh,
shit!" Eric cried.

	"You expecting company?" Mario asked.

	"Yeah, I..." Eric felt his heart pounding.  He knew that if he
didn't go down there and answer the door, Doug would just get worried and
possibly even call for help.  That was the last thing he needed.  "Can you
get me dressed fast?"

	Mario understood immediately.  He grabbed Eric's clothes off the
floor and got him dressed at an impressive speed.  He efficiently but
quickly replaced the catheter in Eric's penis, then lifted him back into
his wheelchair.  Eric held out his hands.  "My splints," Eric reminded him.

	Mario nodded and gently secured both his wrists with the splints.
Eric adjusted himself in his chair and wheeled outside to greet Doug, who
had rung the bell three times already.

	Doug gave Eric a funny look when he saw him.  "Are you okay?" he
asked.

	"Yeah, sure, I'm fine," Eric said quickly.  "Why do you ask?"

	"Your hair is all mussed," Doug said, squinting at him.  "Were you
taking a nap?"

	Eric reached out to try to smooth his short hair.  "Uh... sort of,
yeah."

	"I could come back if you..." Doug trailed off when he saw Mario
emerge from the bedroom.  Eric knew that even in his suit, Mario looked
like a gigolo.  His only hope was that Doug was somehow too na^Ėve to piece
it all together.

	"I'm just leaving," Mario said in his silky accent.  He looked over
at Eric expectantly.

	Eric nearly smacked himself in the forehead.  Mario, bless his
heart, had to get paid.  There was no way to do this discreetly.  Eric
reached into a pouch in his wheelchair and pulled out a wad of cash for
Mario, who thanked him and left.

	Doug's face was as red as Eric's.  "Was that a prostitute?" Doug
blurted out.

	Eric was shocked that Doug asked the question.  "Yeah, it was,"
Eric said, hanging his head.

	Doug sunk down on the couch, his eyes staring at the carpet.
"Jesus... how much money was that?"

	"Two-hundred dollars."

	"Jesus..."

	Eric wheeled over to him.  "I'm sorry you had to see that," he said
quietly.  "It's just that... it's not so easy for someone like me to form
relationships.  I may be disabled, but... I still have needs."

	"Yeah," Doug was muttering.  "Yeah, I get it.  It's... it's totally
okay.  I just... do you mind if I go home now?"

	"Sure," Eric said.  He hoped this wouldn't be the last time he saw
Doug Martin.

	"I'll be back tomorrow," Doug promised.

	Eric wasn't sure if he believed it, but he had no choice but to let
Doug go.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Doug ran home from Mr. Brody's house and didn't say a word to his
mother when he walked through the door, instead heading straight to his
room.  He couldn't believe what he had just seen.  It was shocking enough
to have seen a hooker in Mr. Brody's house, but the fact that the hooker
was a guy made it infinitely worse.

	Doug would never have guessed that Mr. Brody was a homosexual.  He
sure didn't act gay, not that Doug knew anyone who was gay for comparison.
He just seemed like a nice regular guy, sort of loner, who happened to have
a severe disability.  Doug supposed that Mr. Brody was a good looking man,
maybe even very good looking, and there was something about his looks that
made him seem like sort of a prettyboy, especially when he came out of his
room with his glasses off and his hair tousled.  But it was hard to
describe a guy in a wheelchair as a prettyboy.

	The whole thing did sort of make sense in some crazy way.
Mr. Brody was crippled and unable to have any sort of normal relationship,
so he had to hire someone to relieve his natural human urges.  It was easy
to forget a guy like Mr. Brody had urges like that.  Just because he was
paralyzed, it didn't mean he should go through his whole life without
having sex.  God forbid.

	Doug sort of felt bad for Mr. Brody.  Doug himself had never had a
real relationship, but he knew that someday he would.  But that was
something that Mr. Brody would never get to experience.

	Doug heard a knock on his door.  He looked up sharply.  "Who is
it?"

	"Douglas, it's Mom."

	"Come in."

	His mother entered the room, looking very concerned.  "Doug
sweetie, are you all right?"

	Doug nodded, "Sure.  Of course."

	"How are things going with Mr. Brody?"

	"Fine."

	Doug's mother smiled.  "It's a really great thing what you're doing
for that nice old man."

	Doug bit his lip to keep from telling his mother the truth:
Mr. Brody wasn't an old man at all.  And he wasn't so nice either.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Eric couldn't stop thinking about what had happened with Doug.
After taking so many precautions over the years, he couldn't believe he had
been so stupid and careless.  He had known Doug would be arriving at one.
How could he have cut it so close?

	The worst part was the look on Doug's face.  It was obvious that he
was completely disgusted by what Eric was doing.  In a way, it made Eric
angry.  He was still a young man, still in his thirties.  Didn't he have a
right to have sex too, just like every other red-blooded American man?
Just because he was confined to a wheelchair, did that necessarily mean he
could never get laid?  It wasn't fair for Doug to make assumptions like
that.

	Eric wondered how Doug would have reacted if he saw a callgirl
leaving the house rather than a man.  Doug would have understood that
better, that was for sure.  But Eric couldn't help his own tastes.

	Eric truly didn't expect Doug to come around the next day, so he
was surprised when his doorbell rang at a quarter after one.  He answered
the door and Doug was standing there, looking very nervous.  "I'm here,"
Doug said, rather unceremoniously.

	"I see that," Eric replied.  He wheeled backwards to give Doug room
to walk in.  "Listen, do you want to... talk about this?"

	"Naw," Doug said.  "I was... in the middle of cleaning out your
fish tank the other day.  I'd rather just... get on with that."

	"Well, okay," Eric agreed.

	Eric tried to give Doug some space while he cleaned out the tank.
He stayed in the other room for a little while, doing some work on the
computer.  Presently, he heard Doug calling for him.  "Mr. Brody!  Hey,
Mr. Brody!"

	Eric saved his work and wheeled into the room where Doug had been
working.  His mouth fell open when he saw that Doug had stripped off all
his clothing, including his underwear.  Eric had been right-Doug had a
fantastic body.  Slim but with solid muscles and a smooth, naturally
hairless chest.  But Eric's eyes immediately went to Doug's package, his
long uncircumcised cock emerging from his sparse pubic hair.

	"My god..." Eric breathed.  "Doug..."

	There were a million thoughts going through Eric's head right then,
not the least of which was how much he wanted to get Doug's dick in his
mouth.  But he was excited too about the fact that Doug seemed to be
interested in him.  He had never had anyone, man or woman, come on to him
like this before.  He had believed the wheelchair made other people think
of him as being asexual and he had come to accept that.  But here was this
beautiful eighteen year old boy who seemed to want him too.

	"Dougie.." Eric murmured.

	"I was thinking," Doug began, shifting uncomfortably in his
nakedness, "you pay those guys two-hundred for a session, right?  But since
I'm not a professional and all, maybe you could just give me a hundred?"

	Eric stared at Doug, unable to believe his ears.  What had moments
ago seemed like a kind, loving act of a young boy had now become a sordid
act of prostitution.  Doug didn't love him-he just wanted money.  And Eric
had been fooled, goddamn it.

	Eric blinked a few times, trying to compose himself.  He shouldn't
have been so surprised, after all.  Here was a kid who had broken his
window and tried to make a run for it.  Still, Doug was very handsome and
it was a tempting offer.  Eric cleared his throat and became all business.
"How about this," he said, "you come here every day in the afternoon like
you've been doing, but instead of chores around the house, we spend the
afternoon in the bedroom.  And we'll call it even for the window and at the
end of each week, I'll give you 250 dollars."  Eric tried to smile.  "What
do you say, Doug?  It's a hell of a lot better than you'll get at
McDonald's."

	"Deal," Doug agreed without hesitation.

	As Doug walked towards him, Eric forgot all about his wounded pride
and focused only on Doug's magnificent cock.  Eric held out his hands to
Doug.  "Can you take off the splints?" he asked.  He wanted to feel the
smooth skin of Doug's buttocks while he sucked him off.

	Doug took Eric's hands one by one and undid the splints.  He seemed
a little shaken by the sight of Eric's bare hands.  His fingers curled up
and looked almost palsied.  With the splints off, Eric dug his hands into
Doug's ass, bringing him close so that he could lean forward and suck
Doug's dick.

	Eric was really enjoying himself, having dreamed about this for a
long time.  Doug didn't say much and seemed a little distracted.  It took
him a while to cum, which Eric didn't mind at all, because he loved having
Doug's dick in his mouth.  When Doug finally did cum, he shot an impressive
load into Eric's mouth, which dribbled down his chin.  Eric used the back
of his hand to wipe his mouth and wound up getting his paralyzed fingers
sticky with cum.

	"Let's go to the bedroom," Eric said, looking up at Doug.

	Doug nodded and started for the bedroom, forgetting that Eric
wasn't wearing his splints anymore.  Eric knew from experience that he
wasn't going to be able to wheel his chair with his hands like this.
"Little help?" Eric said, holding up his hands.

	"Sorry," Doug said quickly.  He grabbed the handles of Eric's chair
to wheel him into the bedroom.

	Doug was obviously very nervous, but he knew what he was doing.
Once they were in the bedroom, he gently lifted Eric out of his wheelchair
and lay him down on the bed.  He carefully undressed Eric, pulling his
boxers off over his paralyzed legs, and pulling his shirt up over his
upraised arms.  As Eric looked on anxiously, Doug pulled out his indwelling
catheter.  Eric lay on his bed naked, staring up at Doug.

	When Doug sat on the side of the bed and Eric reached out to stroke
his face with one curled up hand.  Doug looked worried and Eric suspected
he was afraid of having to suck some dick now.  Eric decided to give Doug a
break, considering it was his first time and all.

	"Turn me over and fuck me," Eric instructed him.

	Doug helped Eric to roll over in bed.  Eric lay the side of his
face against the pillow so that he could still see Doug hovering over him.
Eric couldn't remember the last time he had wanted to be fucked so bad.  He
had flashbacks to his first time with a man, nervously presenting his ass
to a young male prostitute.  Now Eric was the confident one.

	Doug had some trouble penetrating him, considering he was very
nervous and had softened up considerably since Eric had sucked him off.
Doug had to stimulate himself for a little while before he was hard enough.
As Doug pumped against Eric's body, Eric smiled to himself, enjoying the
waves of pleasure that flooded through him.  Eventually, Doug came again
and collapsed on top of Eric, his sweaty body sticking to Eric's back.

	"That was fantastic, Dougie," Eric breathed.  He didn't have an
orgasm this time-it was hard for him and Doug wasn't all that experienced.
Still, it had been immensely arousing.  Eric decided to masturbate himself
as soon as Doug left.

	Doug rolled off of Eric and helped him to turn onto his back.  "Do
you want me to jerk you off?" Doug asked, as if reading Eric's mind.

	Eric smiled.  "That would be great, actually."

	Eric watched as Doug reached over and took hold of his penis.  At
first Doug was very unsure of himself, but he gradually got into it.  And
without Eric even saying a word, Doug slid down the bed and began sucking
him off.  As Eric watched Doug's tongue rolling over the contours of Eric's
circumcised penis, he had a hard time believing Doug wasn't at least
getting some enjoyment out of it.  Mario showed an equal amount of
enthusiasm, but Mario was a professional.

	When Eric finally came, he looked down at Doug's face and saw that
the boy was smiling, a bit of cum dripping down the side of his chin.  Eric
smiled back.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

	School started and Doug came to Eric's house every single day at
3:30.  They fucked for a couple of hours, then Doug would prepare Eric's
food for him.  Sometimes Doug stuck around while Eric ate and sometime he
even stayed later in the evening and did his homework there.

	Later Eric would recall this as the happiest time in his life.  He
hadn't had a happy childhood-he never enjoyed school or got along that well
with his parents, even when he was young.  Then at age thirteen he was
injured and his life just got worse.  Before he learned to become more
independent, he had to rely on his parents for everything; for the first
year, they fed him, dressed him, and took care of his bowel and bladder
needs.  It had been a time of nearly nonstop fighting.

	Eric spent his teenage years being homeschooled and very lonely for
the company of other kids his age.  But by the time he got out of his
parents house and back into the real world, he found that he had become
very socially awkward and moreover, terrified of approaching other people,
especially people he felt attracted to.

	Despite the fact that he enjoyed his independence and had a good
sex life, Eric had never realized how lonely he was.  Doug was the closest
he had come to having a real relationship, strange as that was.  The sex
was the best he had ever had, but more importantly, Eric thought he was
falling in love with Doug.  Of course, Eric had no intention of ever
telling him that.

	Doug, for his part, seemed to enjoy the interaction too.  Even
though he got paid at the end of the week, he was very enthusiastic about
the sex and never seemed in any hurry to leave.

	Doug continued his housekeeping duties as well.  He didn't clean as
much, but he still helped Eric prepare his dinner.  Eric had always taken
pride in being able to prepare and eat his own food, but acknowledged that
it was much easier when Doug helped him.  At the very least, Doug heated up
the food for him and set it out on the dining room table, but more and more
often Doug actually fed Eric himself.

	Thanks to the weakness in his hands, Eric needed to be fed at many
times in his life, but it had been many years since he had depended on
someone to help him with this basic activity of daily living.  He had to
admit, though, it was much easier and faster (and he spilled a lot less)
when Doug helped him.  And there was something a little sensual about it
too.

	Doug gave Eric the first birthday celebration he had had in years.
Ever since Eric's mother passed on, he had let his birthday pass by without
taking note.  But for some reason, Doug was determined to make this year
special for him.

	Eric was turning 39 this year-only one year away from the big
four-oh.  Eric couldn't believe he was almost forty, and he found the
thought mildly unsettling.  He still felt pretty young, still being in his
thirties and all (even though the kids did call him Old Man Brody), but
forty was moving close to middle age.  And he knew that as he got older, he
would lose more and more of his independence, as well as his health.  This
was as young and strong as he'd ever be.

	Doug was still at that age where he looked forward to each birthday
as a step toward being a man.  He baked Eric a cake (from a mix, but it was
still a nice thought) and put a circle of candles around the periphery.
Eric was just grateful there weren't 39 candles.  As Doug brought out the
cake, beaming with pleasure, Eric couldn't help but share in his
excitement.

	"Vanilla-my favorite," Eric noted.

	"Make a wish and blow out the candles," Doug said eagerly.

	Eric stared into Doug's eyes as he leaned forward and blew out the
candles.  I wish I wasn't paying for this, he thought.

	Eric tried not to think about the money he shelled out for the
pleasure of Doug's company.  Doug didn't act like he was being paid.  He
stayed all afternoon and only left when his mother expected him home for
dinner.  And maybe it was Eric's imagination, but Doug seemed to be enjoyed
the sex almost as much as he did.  He certainly had just as many orgasms.

	One evening, as Eric and Doug lay together in bed, spent from the
activities of the afternoon, Eric posed a question: "Listen, Doug... is
there anything that maybe you'd like me to do?"

	As soon as the words left Eric's mouth, he felt silly.  He looked
down at his naked body, pretending he was seeing it for the first time.  He
winced at the thinness of his limbs contrasting with his flabby abdomen,
his curled and useless hands.  Then there was his small penis lying limp
against his leg-downright pathetic compared to Doug's magnificent member.
Eric had to remind himself once again that Doug would never be here if not
for the money.

	But to Eric's surprise, Doug grinned mischievously.  "Actually,"
Doug said, "there is one thing..."

	Eric propped himself up on his elbows and watched as Doug went to
the end of the bed and picked up one of Eric's paralyzed feet.  Doug
stroked the sole of his foot, "It's so smooth..."

	"Well, I haven't walked on them in 25 years," Eric reminded him.

	"Do you think you could?" Doug asked.

	"Could what?"

	"Walk."  Doug's eyes were wide and serious.

	Eric laughed.  "Oh, sure.  The whole wheelchair bit-that's just for
kicks."

	"What if I helped you?" Doug offered.  "The thing is, I'd like to
try fucking you... standing up."

	Eric looked down at his legs.  The thought of being on his two feet
again seemed ridiculous.  Even with heavy braces on, he couldn't stand up.
God knows, he had tried way back when.  The memory of standing up was so
remote that the idea was almost frightening.

	"I'll walk you over and you could hold on to that dresser," Doug
suggested, pointing to a dresser that probably would have reached Eric's
mid-chest.  "And of course, I'll support you from behind."

	Before Eric could stop himself, he was agreeing to Doug's strange
request.  But as Doug helped him toward the edge of the bed, Eric felt
suddenly terrified.  He was certain he was going to wind up flat on his
face.  And what if he broke something?  With his brittle bones, he might
never heal.  He didn't want to be in a cast for a year, or worse, lose a
leg.

	Doug held Eric under his armpits, with his hands locked across
Eric's chest.  Naturally, Eric's legs gave way beneath him as soon as they
were pulled from the support of the bed, but he felt relatively secure Doug
wasn't about to drop him.

	"My legs aren't going to start moving, if that's what you're
waiting for," Eric said.  He felt his back sticking to Doug's chest with a
layer of sweat.

	"Sure they will," Doug said.  He began walking across the bedroom,
holding Eric securely, and Eric watched his legs being dragged along.  It
definitely wasn't walking, but it was the closest he'd ever get.

	When they reached the dresser, Eric leaned forward and did his best
to hang on to the top.  Doug entered him from behind, but still kept his
hands on his chest.  It was a good thing, because Eric was having a lot of
trouble holding on by himself.

	"How long has it been since you've stood up?" Doug whispered in his
ear.

	Eric tried to think of the answer.  When he was first in physical
therapy 25 years ago, they propped him up for some of his exercises.  It
was supposed to be good for his bones or circulation or something.  Now
they didn't bother with standing exercises.  "It's been a long time," Eric
admitted.

	"How does it feel?"

	"Strange."

	Doug thrust into him hard and Eric groaned.  Doug wasn't afraid of
getting in there real deep.  He was impetuous in ways that Mario and the
others never were.  It was good because the deeper Doug went, the more he
felt.  And Doug's cock could go pretty deep.

	"You okay?" Doug asked Eric.  Eric was sweating profusely now and
his arms were beginning to tremble.

	"Don't you dare stop," Eric said.

	Doug went until they both came.  Eric's weight became too much for
either of them and they collapsed onto the floor, Eric's limp body on top
of Doug's.  Eric wiped salty water off his forehead with the palm of his
hand.  He rested his head against Doug's chest, knowing he'd never have the
energy to get dressed and get back into his chair by himself.

	"Good?" Doug asked.

	"Good," Eric confirmed.

	After that day, Eric and Doug began experimenting more.  Doug
always seemed to have some new sex game he wanted to try out and Eric never
said no.  Most of the time, Doug didn't even ask first.  Eric liked the
fact that Doug was so enthusiastic about being with him.  He never talked
about girls anymore either.  Eric wondered if maybe this experience was
changing Doug... and he wondered how Doug's family and friends would feel
about it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Elise Martin was so proud of her son and everything he had done for
poor Mr. Brody.  It was nearly halfway through the school year and Doug had
more than worked off his debt, but he still came to Mr. Brody's house every
single day after school.  It was so sweet.  Elise knew she had raised a
good boy.

	And it seemed that Doug really enjoyed helping Mr. Brody.  Every
day he came home whistling, with a big smile on his face.  Mr. Brody and
Doug had really bonded.  Doug's father wasn't around much, so maybe Doug
saw Mr. Brody as a sort of father figure.

	The whole thing got Elise thinking.  When Mr. Brody first moved to
the neighborhood, she hadn't made an effort to get to know him.  And she
knew she wasn't the only one.  Even the welcome wagon that visited every
newcomer to the town had come up with some sort of excuse to avoid a visit
to his house.  She had never even had a conversation with him before.  She
spoke to some of her friends and none of them had much to do with Mr. Brody
either-even Regina, who lived down the block from him, only spoke to him
when he called to complain about her dog being loose in the street.  Truth
be told, most people seemed to think he was a rather cranky old fogie and
worth avoiding.  But if Doug liked him so much, she had surely misjudged
the old man.

	So this was how Elise decided to bake one of her famous peach pies
and bring it over to Mr. Brody's house.  It was the neighborly thing to do,
in addition to the fact that she was dying to finally talk to Mr. Brody in
person.  She was curious to meet this man who had befriended her son.

	Elise brought the pie over at four o'clock on Thursday afternoon.
As she knocked on the door, she found that she was slightly nervous-after
all, Mr. Brody had a reputation for being a grouch.  What if when he saw
her, he told her to get lost?

	Elise waited several minutes, but there was no answer at the door.
She tried the doorknob and found that the door was open.  She stepped into
Mr. Brody's foyer, inhaling the scent of cleaning fluid.  The house was
immaculate.

	"Mr. Brody?" Elise called out.

	At the sound of her voice, there was a distinct sound of shuffling
coming from her right.  Elise turned the corner into Mr. Brody's living
room.  As she stared into the room, the peach pie slid from her fingers and
landed with a plop on the hardwood floor.  "Dougie?"

	Doug, her baby, still in high school, was struggling to untangle
his briefs from his foot, his face turning bright red.  Elise could see
everything, from his bare chest to his erect penis.  "Mom," Doug gasped,
"what are you doing here?"

	Elise's eyes fell on the other occupant of the room.  It was a man
in a wheelchair, who Elise judged to be in his mid-thirties.  He had a very
good looking face, with graying hair and eyes that were intense behind his
spectacles.  His naked body, on the other hand, was odd-looking to her,
with his think arms and legs and a flabby abdomen.  "Who are you?" she
said.

	"I... I'm Eric Brody," the man stammered.

	"You?" Elise shook her head.  "But you're so... so young!"

	Doug had managed to pull on most of his clothes, but Mr. Brody
obviously wasn't capable of getting his clothes on by himself.  "Mom, this
isn't what it looks like," Doug said.

	Elise hadn't even gotten that far yet.  She couldn't even begin to
imagine why her young son was naked in a room with Old Man Brody, who
actually wasn't so old.  All she knew was that she was seeing something
horribly horribly wrong.  But as she began to think, a scenario emerged in
her mind.  "What have you done to my son?" Elise hissed at Mr. Brody.  "How
did you manipulate him into this?"

	Doug looked over at Mr. Brody, waiting to see what he would say.
Doug had never seen Mr. Brody look quite so sad.  His shoulders sagged and
his eyes were lowered.  "I'm sorry, Mrs. Martin," he said.  "This whole
thing... it's entirely my fault."

	Doug saw the anger on his mother's face and knew he had to do
something.  "That's not true," he spoke up.  "This was all my idea.
Mr. Brody is paying me."

	 Mr. Brody looked over at Doug with horror on his face and suddenly
Doug realized that this was the worst possible thing he could have said.
"You're paying him?" Doug's mother shrieked.  "What the hell is wrong with
you, you... you pervert!"

	Mr. Brody just shook his head sadly.  "Mrs. Martin, I'm so so
sorry."

	"That's all you have to say?" she demanded.

	Eric Brody blinked at her.  "I wouldn't expect you to understand."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

	It all came out, just as Eric had feared.  The whole neighborhood
found out about the prostitutes he had been hiring over the years,
contaminating their quiet little suburban town.  The outcry was tremendous.
Eric received hatemail, angry phone calls, and even a rock through his
window.  The message was clear: they wanted Eric out.

	Eric obliged, although he felt sad about leaving.  He had lived in
that house for ten years.  Everything was set up just the way he wanted it.
He feared that in a new house, he might not be as independent, at least not
at first.  Yet, this whole incident seemed like it could be a blessing in
disguise.  After all, the Japanese used the same word for "crisis" as they
do for "opportunity."  Maybe it was time to get out of his rut.  He was too
young to give up on the possibility of meeting someone.  Maybe he had just
been looking in the wrong places.

	That's how Eric made the decision to move to the Village.  After
all, it was a great place to live for a young, attractive, single gay man
on the prowl.  There had to be some guys out there who'd be interested in a
cripple like him.  It would be nice to get sex without paying for it.  Doug
had given him a small taste of what a relationship might be like and Eric
found he enjoyed it.

	Doug was forbidden to ever see Eric again.  No surprises there.
Mrs. Martin didn't resort to hatemail or phone calls-she sent her husband
over to personally get the message across.  Harvey Martin came to Eric's
house and forced his way inside.  "You sick fuck," Martin said, grabbing
Eric by the collar.  "If you go near my son again, I'll make it so you need
a machine just to help you breathe.  You got me, Brody?"

	In a funny way, it almost reminded Eric of his own father.  Eric's
dad had known he liked boys even before Eric did.  If Eric hadn't been
injured, his teenage years probably would have consisted of a lot of
slammed doors and sneaking around.  As it happened, the two men just
quietly resented each other.  The only exception was a Christmas dinner
when Eric was thirty; while his mother was in the kitchen, his father had
leaned forward and whispered: "If you ever let your mother find out you're
a faggot, I'll break every bone in your body.  I swear to fucking god,
Eric."  After Eric's mother died, he never had anything to do with his
father again.

	Eric hired people to do most of his packing for him.  He wound up
getting rid of a lot of his furniture, because the place in the Village was
a lot smaller than his house.  On one hand, it would be a lot harder for
him to get around this new apartment, but on the other hand, the upkeep
would be much cheaper and easier.  Eric might have considered selling or
giving his old furniture to neighbors, but he knew everyone hated him too
take any of his furniture, so he gave it all to Goodwill.

	The day finally arrived that Eric was set to leave his house.  A
lot of his stuff had already been moved to his new apartment and he had
just hired a van to transport him and the remainder of his things.  The way
the van was set up, Eric's wheelchair could fit in the back while he stayed
in it.  He brought his laptop so that he could do work during the ride.

	As Eric wheeled himself toward the van, he couldn't help but feel a
bit nostalgic.  He had lived in this neighborhood for a long time.  He
truly hated to leave.  But this new life would be different-better.  He
didn't want to spend the rest of his life as a hermit.

	"Mr. Brody!  Wait!"

	Eric wheeled around and saw Doug standing on his lawn (soon to be
someone else's lawn).  Despite everything Doug had done, Eric had to smile.
He loved Doug.  Eric hit the brakes on his chair.  "Your father is going to
murder me if he sees you here," Eric said.

	"Dad's all talk," Doug said.  "Besides, I'm eighteen.  I can do
what I want."

	"I'm glad you came, Doug," Eric said.  "I wanted a chance to say
goodbye."

	"I'm sorry about what happened," Doug said, hanging his head.  "It
was all my fault.  If not for me, you wouldn't have to leave."

	Eric melted.  Doug was such a nice kid.  "It's better this way,
anyway.  I don't think I liked myself very much when I was living here."

	"You didn't like being the cranky old man?"

	Eric laughed.  "It had its moments..."

	"You got a new place quick," Doug commented.  "What's it like?"

	"It's not a house," Eric said.  "But I like it."

	"Does it have room for another person?" Doug raised an eyebrow.

	Eric frowned.  What?  "It's a two bedroom apartment.  Why?"

	"Because I thought maybe... after I graduate... I could come stay
with you..."

	"I don't know if I could afford that," Eric laughed.

	"You wouldn't have to pay me," Doug said.  "In fact, I'd like to
contribute half the rent once I get a job."

	Eric stared at Doug.  What was he saying?  Was this young,
beautiful boy saying that he wanted to share his life with a cripple?  Eric
looked down at his hands in their splints.  No, he must have misunderstood.
"I guess you could take the extra bedroom, if you want..."

	"Well, I was thinking we'd share the same bedroom..."

	"Goddamn it, Doug!" Eric shut his eyes, counted to ten, then opened
them again.  "Haven't you fucked things up enough for both of us?  Why
aren't you going to college next year?  That's what kids your age are
supposed to do-go to college.  What the fuck do you want to waste your time
with me for?  Jesus Christ..."

	Doug's eyes filled with tears.  "Because I love you, Eric."

	Eric shook his head.  "Oh, no.  No, you don't..."

	"I do!" Doug cried.  "Listen, don't tell me what I feel!  All I've
thought about the last month is you.  I can't get you out of my head.  I've
never felt this way before..."

	"Yeah, you're only eighteen."

	"You're almost forty.  Have you ever felt this way before?" Doug
challenged him.

	"But I'm a freak."  Eric looked away.  "Is this really what you
want?"

	"Yes," Doug said without hesitation.  "As soon as I graduate, I
want to be with you."

	"Your parents will never forgive you."

	"It's my life."

	Maybe it was a mistake, but Eric had never felt as happy as he did
with Doug.  He wanted to be with Doug.  It amazed him that Doug somehow
felt the same way.  "There's no way you could afford half the rent," Eric
said.

	"I'll pay whatever I can," Doug offered.

	"You better," Eric said, "or else I'll throw you out your ass."

	Doug smiled.  "Well, you can do something to my ass."

	Eric laughed.  He no longer had any misgivings about leaving this
neighborhood.  After all, he was coming away with the best part of it.

THE END