Date: Thu, 19 Sep 2013 11:59:34 -0400
From: andywasputz@hotmail.ca
Subject: A TALE OF SEVEN - CHAPTER THREE - THE SEVENTH TALE BEGINS

Warning:  The usual disclaimers apply here.  If you don't like any of the
following, leave now:  gay sex, vulgar or harsh language or underage
wherever you are reading this.

This is pure fiction. No one in this story is a real person, living or
deceased. Please do not copy without my consent.

I used 'Rooming With My Best Friend" as a starting point, with the author's
consent.

You will see little references throughout this storyline.

Feel free to read Wasputz's story under the appropriate section

Additional Note: Please donate to Nifty! The Archive is to be thanked for
hosting so many stories over the years and providing a venue for our works.

I will point out this story takes place in United States and Canada, and it
seperate tales with different people in each storyline; however, all these
storylines will come together in the final chapter..

I encourage you to look for connections between the stories, and references
to 'Rooming'


I hope you enjoy this second chapter....  I look forward to hearing from
you. Please email me your comments, questions, critics, as I look forward to
hearing from you.

andywasputz@hotmail.ca

********************************

A TALE OF SEVEN

CHAPTER THREE – THE SEVENTH TALE BEGINS

NEW YORK CITY – 1949 – CONNOR

He had been walking for three days straight. The world war had ended more
than three years ago and unfortunately that war cost him so much. His
father came back a broken man and his mother used all of the families'
money to make him well again.  Connor had to work hard and all the money he
made went to the hospital bills for his ailing father. He didn't like it,
so the day after he turned 17 he left the house.

Now, three days later, he was walking around the big city of New
York. Connor didn't know what to expect and he didn't know where to
turn. However, something brought him to a building that was close Central
Park.

He read the name of it and decided it was just as good as any to look for
employment. The Manager of the Apartment Complex was named Rick Sampson, or
so the name plate on the lobby desk read.

"Hello, sir?" He looked at Connor's clothing. He was wearing white t-shirt
and ripped pants. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"I noticed your sign outside."  Connor said, pointing to the simple but
elegant `Help Wanted' sign in the corner.

"Yes, I see." Mr. Sampson looked again at the individual. "Unfortunately
the interviews do not begin until tomorrow morning and we do have many
people to get through. I may not be able to find time for the owner to meet
you."

"The owner?"  Connor was surprised. "He will be conducting the interviews
personally?

"Yes, that is correct. As you may be aware, although the job is simple in
its duties the elevator operator will be in contact with many of the people
living here so they need to meet certain criteria."

Mr. Sampson went back to his paperwork. Feeling dejected, Connor walked
out, however, before he left he smelled something. Just to right of the
building he noticed a small bakery. He hadn't eaten much that day so he
went to look inside. A man in his 40s was making fresh bread whilst talking
to someone. They seemed to be friends.

"Eric, you needed to try my new loaf."

"Felix, in the last twenty years I have not changed my standing order in
all that time."

"Your loss." He noticed Connor and offered the new bread to him. Curious,
Connor took the new loaf and smelled peanuts in it.

He chewed it and it was wonderful. "Thanks, man."

"You're welcome," giving his buddy a stare.  Eric was more than curious
about Connor and offered him a seat next him at the bar. Connor sat.

"So what brings you to New York?"

"Just doing some exploring and looking for work."

Three hours later the two guys were having a late dinner and Connor had
made Eric Sampson laugh with his tales. Although Connor was only seventeen
he was a great storyteller. As Connor took a sip from his Cola, Eric took
the opportunity to speak.

"I have a job for you."

"Really?"

"I need an elevator operator at my building and you're perfect. You have
this charm and ease about you. You're friendly and funny. I think you would
be perfect."

The next day, Connor moved into a small room in Eric Sampson's building,
The Orpheus. His small room was above the basement. Rick had taught him the
simple tasks he had to perform. During the afternoons he would be manning
the main elevator, taking the people to their floors.  The building was
impressive in size. The lobby had a small waiting area with leather chairs
and a sofa.  Right across from that sat a reception area with a desk, which
wasn't massive because the Orpheus only catered to about 50 people.  As you
walked down the main hall to the bank of elevators you passed a small nook,
called simply The Café. It was meant for the clients on the go, with 12
person seating capacity. The elevators, Connor's second home, were elegant
and majestic. They had been a part of the complex since it was built in the
early 1930s. It had small doors that the operator had to handle before the
elevator could operate, as well as a mechanical door that opened when the
elevator reached its floor.

Connor loved the ride, and although the complex had six floors with about
five people per floor, the corridors that surrounded each floor's elevator
were marked with blue and red walls and brown stained wood floors. The
bottom floor was the basement, which Eric lived in. He never liked heights
so he converted the basement into a massive comfortable suite for him and
his dog, Duke. The top floor of the Orpheus housed the penthouse apartment
to a recluse who had been with Orpheus since it opened. He was their first
tenant and the 25 year old man opted for the Orpheus because it allowed him
to stay away from people.

Connor worked with Bill Patterson, a 16 year old operator who worked the
mornings, three days a week. Within four months Bill and Connor were good
friends. They spent most of their weekends in Bill's room, which was two
doors down from Connor's. Connor told him about his father while Bill
entertained him with the life of living rich. The weekends continued and
Bill and Connor took up smoking, with Bill showing Connor the nightlife.

Then the night he lost his virginity was the changing point in his life. It
was just three days shy of his 18th birthday and Bill had got him a date
with his sister, a smiling hot blond bombshell. Connor liked Ellie for her
good looks but also for her intellect. He was surprised with the vernacular
she had. They had a simple meal in his room. After the meal they talked all
night about her plans for the future.

They went to his bed and the sex was amazing. It just flowed naturally and
she seemed to enjoy it.  The sex was the first for him and he loved making
Ellie smile.

"Do you smell that, Con?"

He thought she was referring to their scent but after a few seconds he
realized what the odour was. "Smoke!"

He threw on some pants and Ellie found his long shirt. Connor tested the
door. It was hot so he kicked it open. The Hallway was engulfed in
smoke. His first thought was Bill. He ran two doors down and kicked the
door in. Inside was Bill asleep, surrounded in flames, a cigar in his
mouth. "BILL!"

Bill didn't open his eyes but Connor wouldn't let his friend die, he walked
past the flames and fireman carried him outside to the hall. He went back
inside his room. Ellie was gone. She went through a broken window as needed
the thin air. Connor was about to check Bill's pulse when the wall by his
bed burst into flames and Bill's pants caught fire. Connor quickly dowsed
the flames but he needed to do something, so he picked Bill up and went to
the broken window. He pushed Bill's body through it as the flames got
closer. His bed was now gone. A hand pulled Bill's body through the
window. He needed to get out, but as the hand reached to grab a hold of
him, he took it and he was pulled from the building. It was just in time as
three explosions occurred.  The gas must have been on somewhere.

He nodded to Mr. Cranston who lived on the main floor, who had helped him
and Bill.  "I need to go back."

"Eric is still down there."  He pointed to the basement.

"Don't!"  Connor didn't listen and ran toward the front. Everybody was
leaving, but he ran past them all, grabbing a coat behind the desk as he
went. He pulled the mechanical door open and looked down. The flames had
engulfed the shaft. The cable seemed to about to break though.  He put his
feet on the emergency ladder on the side and let go so he would slide down
the shaft, hoping to the miss the flames with his speed. In three seconds
he went past it and his coat caught fire. He threw it off and now he was
bare chested again. The flames seemed to be going, but it was only matter
of time before he escaped and the floor collapsed. He went to the door and
kicked it open, but at that moment something fell on his head and
everything went black.

Connor awoke in the ambulance, "Where am I?"  His memory was flushing
back. Next to him was Eric.

"Connor, relax, I'm alive, and so are you."

"What happened?" remembering he fire, he shot up from gurney he was on and
left to witness the Orpheus. All that was left was rubble.

"How was long was I out?"

"Some time," Eric reassured him. "My apartment has an emergency staircase,
I carried you out."

Connor was grateful but the tears in Eric's eyes told him that the
destruction of his home was hard. "I'm sorry, Eric."

"You have no reason to be."

"I should have smelled the smoke before it got worse." He explained to Eric
about seeing Bill asleep with the cigar.

"There was nothing you could do." He smiled, "We only suffered minor
issues, with Bill receiving some horrible burns. Thanks to you he will
survive."

"Thanks to you, so did I." Connor replied. "Come on." He ushered his friend
into the bakery and where Felix offered him a small coffee.  It wasn't
enough, Eric just cried for the loss of the Orpheus.



TORONTO, ONTARIO – JOSH TURNER

2012 – 63 YEARS LATER



Josh had arrived at the bus station and went to meet his Mom. He walked up
the stairs to the general parking area but his mom was nowhere to be seen.

Josh got nervous for second. He was about to call his mom to see where she
was, but at that moment her car showed up at the door.  Josh got
in. "You're late."

"When have I ever been on time?" she responded. She did have a point. The
car ride home was pretty quiet. This was typical, Josh was more reserved
and he didn't like communicating unless he needed too. He was worried about
his father, as he was dealing with funeral arrangements. Josh's father was
good at masking his emotions however Josh knew he must be hurting. Losing
one's parent is never good.

They arrived home and Josh decided to use his computer to check his
messages and emails. His cellphone wasn't a smartphone. Then he thought
again about his Zaidy and Bubby and he missed him so much. Zaidy was there
for him always. He didn't know what made him do it but Josh went to the
cupboard in the basement where all the photo albums were and looked for
pictures of his grandfather.

He passed an empty photo album and a thought occurred to him. Josh took the
albums and took out pictures of his family, showing some of the best
moments of their lives that were captured. Josh then put them in an order,
and using the empty album he made a photo collage album for his Bubby,
including numerous photos of her husband. While searching through all of
the pictures he noticed there were not many of him in his early life. Zaidy
was 80 years old when he died so there were cameras back then.

Mom called him, "We're going out for dinner with your sisters."

"Okay, gimmie a few minutes to finish things up." He knew is mom would be
upset about this.

Before Josh realized it he was at the Outback ordering a steak with his
mom, his two sisters and their spouses. The conversation was more about the
details of getting to Montreal and who would drive with whom. Josh never
received a licence so he would need a ride to the bus station upon his
return to Toronto.

A friend of the family noticed his older sister, Rebecca, and came up to
say hello. "I'm a little surprised, Renee," talking to my mother, "It's not
every day that all your children are sitting down to dinner together." That
was not a diss of any kind, but a statement of true facts. Rebecca and her
other sister, Helena, had their lives to deal with. Rebecca was seen more
often because she was lived with Josh's parents, while her husband
renovated their house after it flooded recently.

"Unfortunately it's not for a happy moment," Mom stated, telling our friend
about the children's grandfather's death. She had met Connor Turner a few
times at family events, mainly in early years when Josh's sisters had
birthday parties and such.

"I am sorry for your loss." Not wanting to intrude on the mourning, she
left them after Josh's Mom told her about the funeral details.

Josh thought back to photo album that was still at home and asked the table
a question. "There are not many early photos of Bubby and Zaidy. I was
trying to look at some photos earlier."

"Ah," Mom responded, "That is to be expected. You see Connor never had time
to buy a camera, his life kept busy in his early years, especially when he
was in New York."

At that mention, Josh and his siblings turned to his mother. Josh then
spoke up, "New York? When was Zaidy in New York?"

"A long, long time ago. It was there that he met the love of his life."

"What?" Helena asked, "What are you talking about?"

"You mean to tell me your father never told you this story?"

They all shook their heads, no.

"Well then, I guess I better. You see, almost sixty years ago, Connor was
working at some apartment building and he saved the owners life in some
way."

"Mom, wait?" Helena spoke. "Some details would be nice."

"I am sorry I'm not much of a storyteller."

"You're doing fine," Josh stated. "How did he save the owner's life?"

"There was a fire at the building that brought the entire building
down. Connor went back in and tried to save the owner. However, in doing
so, a piece of the ceiling fell on him and the owner ended up saving his
life instead."

She watched her children. They all seemed glued to story. "Well, I don't
know many details after that, Connor had kept quiet about it. Your father
says at some point he and the owner, Eric, became friends.  Eric groomed
Connor to manage the complex while the building went under renovation from
the fire. Then one evening, four nights before the building opened up, on
Connor's birthday, a woman entered his life.

"Her name was Yvette. She was a French Canadian from Montreal. The rest is
history."

Josh stared at his mother, "You cannot stop there. How did Yvette enter
Connor's life? Was she a tenant?"

"She was the niece of one of Eric's friends. The way Connor told me about
it she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen; however, she talked
too much. They began to date and Eric was happy with the courtship. As he
groomed Connor to become the head manager of the newly opened Orpheus,
Yvette started to fall for him."

 "Seven years later Yvette and Connor announced their engagement. That's
it."

Josh was curious though, "why seven years, that seems rather slow?"

"I really have no idea.  Maybe it has something to with his brother having
a child at the time, and he wanted to start a family."

"His brother?" Josh asked. "Glenn was rarely talked about."

Rebecca remembered something and added to the conversation, "I asked why he
decided to marry Bubby after the two had an argument some years ago. He
said his brother was happy that he was going to be a father soon and he
wanted to start a family."

"I cannot believe Zaidy never mentioned his time in New York."  Josh
sighed. "It makes him so much cooler."

"Why did he leave?"

The silence at the table spoke volumes. Maybe that is why he never told
Josh about his New York time. It ended horribly.

***



A TOWN IN OREGON – THE TRAVELLER - APRIL 2013



Now, the Traveller was doing what he did best, walking away and never
looking back.  The Traveller had left California and those brothers three
weeks ago. He was now in making his way north through Oregon. He didn't
really know where he wanted to go.

He was on deserted highway walking in the sunshine, making an excellent
pace. There was nobody around to give him a ride, had there been he
wouldn't even have known where to direct them.  His mind was drifting
through the people he met over his five years of travels; the old woman in
California, the brothers in California, the gay guy in Vegas and the old
man in Montreal.  Although he met two dozen or so people on his travels the
old man was one he frequently went back to in his mind.

He met the man about seven month ago in Southern Quebec.  He was just
leaving a bar after getting into a fight because he didn't understand the
French language and he accidentally insulted a bartender when he meant to
ask a simple question on directions. The fight continued in the street,
with The Traveller earning many scratches and a bloody nose. He staggered
away from the bartender, who was in an even worse condition. He walked as
fast as he could.

As he was leaving the fight he heard the old man calling him, "Hey, kid?"

He turned and saw a balding man approach. "What the fuck do you want? I
will fight you too."

"Just to offer you a place to stay for the night," The man was calm

He eyed him suspiciously, "Why?"

"I understood the miscommunication, and when you called the bartender a
stupid moron by mistake I couldn't help but laugh. I assumed you meant
something else."

"Yeah," the traveller shrugged. "It is quite cold, so sure why not."

The old man hailed a cab and they drove to the small house the man lived
at. It was a duplex where he lived on the bottom and another couple lived
on the top. "Are you the only person who lives here?"

"Yes, my wife is visiting an old friend." In a hushed tone, "Between you
and me, she doesn't care for drinking."

"Most wives don't" The Traveller chuckled.

The man guided the Traveller to kitchen. The table was small but it sat
four people comfortable. The chairs were brown swivel chairs that actually
rocked. They were clunky things where it would be hard to get passed them
to the fridge and cupboards.

"So, tell me your story."

"No thank you."

"Are you sure? I do have a forgiving ear."

"I don't think so."

His mind drifted to the day he left his father and brother. He couldn't
tell anybody to truth. Nobody would understand his true motivations in
leaving home. It had nothing to do with his father and his night of
drunkenness. He just needed to get away.

"Okay, how about something simple. What's your name?"

"I don't have one."

The man chuckled, "Of course you do. Everybody has one."

"I stopped using that name when I left home. That name has no meaning for
me."

"I can understand that. I had a past too. Not many people know my
beginnings, in fact, not even my wife or children know the true
surroundings of my life."

The Traveller looked around his surroundings, "For someone in his advancing
years you do well. Why would you want to hide stuff, especially from your
family?"

"Shame, guilt, unhappiness, remorse; there is so much more. The most
important reason is it is the past and when I married my wife the previous
life ended for me."

"I can understand that, when I left home to get away from my family I ended
that chapter in my life."

"Why would you need to get away, you are still young? Finding yourself?"

The Traveller chuckled, "Nice try. But I have met people who tried to find
out pieces of my life by telling me their stories and trying to find a
common ground. I will tell you this, though, you do is so flawlessly. Are
you always this engaging with strangers?"

The man shrugged, "Occupational hazard."

A silence began. The traveller was really thinking about informing this man
of his past. But something inside of him stopped him. If he had to call it
a word it was embarrassment.

"I should go."

"But it's cold outside, where would you go?"

"I will be fine, sir."

With that he left the old man alone in his house.

He didn't know what it was about the old man that made him stop and accept
his kindness in the first place.

"Hello." The traveller was brought back to the present and noticed a car
had stopped on the highway and the driver had opened his window to
talk. "Are you alright?" He said.

"Yes," The Traveller grinned.

"You don't recognize me?"

He looked at the face again and was shocked.

The man smiled again, "Hello dear brother. It's been awhile."

The face on the traveller betrayed no hint of emotion other than shock. He
hadn't seen his two years younger brother in over five years. "Hello,
Thomas."



SEVEN MONTHS EARLIER – MONTREAL, QUEBEC

The old man watched the traveller leave his house on that cold October
night. He sighed and hoped the kid would find what he was looking for.
Connor could relate to the boy because he always left his past behind
him. Ever since the fire at the Orpheus he lived every moment like his
last.

When he met Yvette he knew she was the woman for him. Although, he had
responsibilities with the Orpheus and the management position that Eric had
intrusted in him. That being said, he looked to the future with Yvette,
never looking back to the family he left in New York. Now almost 65 years
later, he shared with nobody his life in New York City. Just about his time
Yvette and their love each other.

The boy was escaping his family for some reason and Connor did that
too. His wife, his children, his brother Glenn and his nephew were his
present and that was more important that his past.

Connor watched the Traveller leave down the street.  He thought about his
early days before he entered The Orpheus and then his day his brother had
his first child, his own marriage, and then it happened...

He fell asleep on the couch.



NEW YORK CITY – FRANKIE AND CALVIN

Summer 2013

It was almost dinner time and the two friends decided to head out for
bite. They were turning their attention to what they were going to do to
find a place. It was at that moment that Calvin saw a newspaper opened on a
bench that gave them an idea.

The next day the two best friends found their way to this new apartment
complex. Frankie, being the more organized of the two, had called ahead and
arranged a meeting with the current owners. They arrived at the Orpheus,
the front looked like a typical apartment complex, with redbrick going up
its ten floors, and the last few storeys seemed to have balconies.

"Well, this does look inviting." Calvin said, encouraged.

"Maybe," Frankie responded. He was also a person who liked to save his cash
and he hoped he could negotiate a better rent than what was advertised in
the newspaper article he had read to Calvin the night before.

He entered through a revolving door with Calvin on his tale. The inside was
breathtaking to him. The floors had checkered board tile and there was a
lounge area with arm chairs and a fire place. The front desk looked old,
like it could have been around in the 1930s. There was a vacant spot though
by the bank of elevators, he wondered what that was used for.

Calvin went to the front desk and an elderly man in his late seventies
showed up through the office. "Welcome to the Orpheus, how many I help
you?"

"I'm Calvin and the guy gawking over there is my buddy, Frankie, we had
appointment with..."  He had forgotten the name. Frankie who had finally
joined them at the desk finished Calvin's sentence, "A Mr. Morgan."

"Aw yes," the gentlemen stated, seeming to remember something, "Mr. Morgan
had informed me that he regrettably had to step away from the
building. There was a family emergency."

Frankie was surprised by the news. "I hope there is nothing wrong."

"No nothing of the kind, just a personal matter. However, he said
something." He looked over the desk for his pad, "You must forgive me. The
mind tends to go at my age."

He found the paper, "Yes, he stated that you guys should look around and
see if the place is to your liking."  The man handed Calvin the key's to
one of the apartments. "If you go up the fourth floor, Mr. Morgan has set
this apartment up for you to examine so you can see what your
accommodations may look like."

"Thank you," Calvin said eagerly. Frankie took the keys and rushed toward
the three elevators.  The old man spoke again but both Frankie and Calvin
were out of earshot.

Calvin pressed the button and the third elevator showed up quite
quickly. As they entered, Calvin got nervous. He had always hated closed
spaces. Frankie whispered to him, "It's fine, just picture a wide open
field."

He did, as Frankie pressed the number four on the panel, however, the
elevator seemed to be going down. A few seconds later and Frankie and
Calvin were in the basement.

The elevator opened to a spacious apartment, with wood floors. To their
right was a seating area; to the left was a dining room and small
kitchen. It was what was in front of them that the guys were most curious
about.

"Look at this hallway; it goes all the way to the end."

"Well duh," Frankie laughed. "You expected it to stop? Let's go look
around."

"I don't think we should be here." Calvin looked at the living area and
noticed the furniture was from the late seventies. There was also an aroma
that really surprised him. "Besides, the smell is kind of funky. I don't
think this place looks like it has housed people in ages."

"Fuck that," Frankie pushed his thoughts aside, "The man at the desk said
to look around, so we are."

"He meant on the fourth floor," Calvin sighed as his friend took a closer
look hallway. There were about six doors on each side. The doors were plain
wood ones with hideous flowery wallpaper surrounding each one, the one that
Frankie was looking at had a sign on the door.

"The cabin getaway," Frankie read. He was about to turn the handle. "You
know what this reminds me off? You remember that Halloween story Big D
wrote for Rooming? The one where all the guys chose different doors and
such? You know when Kris dared Matt to go into a room alone, and Kris went
into another one. He was in a some kind of prom scenario and dead ghost?

"Was there sex in that one?" Calvin asked.

"Nope."

"Then I probably didn't read it. I only read Big D's stuff if I need to get
off." Frankie opened the door and then entered a log cabin bedroom.  They
looked around and it was if they were transported to some snowy hideaway.
"What the fuck? Why would someone keep this in their apartment?"

"Maybe they couldn't afford it the real thing."

Calvin exited the room and looked across the hall; "The Garden" was
labelled on that one.  He walked further and noted the titles next to the
rooms, "High Above," and "Down below."

Curiously, he open high above. "Frankie, get in here."

Frankie, against his better judgment, joined him. The room was an airplane
with coach seats going all the way back and an aisle separating them. At
the end there was door marked lavatory. Frankie was stunned. Knowing what
this place was meant for he opened the Down Below room.  As he thought it
would be, the room was giant aquarium without fish. This was meant for
humans to swim in.

"Frankie! You got to see this." Reluctantly he left the room and followed
his friend to the end of the hall. Passing, "The Pleasure Room, The Camping
Experience, The classroom," and other rooms that were meant to be a theme
for the participants. Calvin was at a room marked, "The Bedroom of Horror."

Inside was a bedroom. "It's a bedroom, so what?"  Frankie wanted to see the
fire and ice room. Calvin turned the lamp on. The wall in front of the bed
opened up and inside was sexual toys, whips, and handcuffs, ropes. "We
entered a whore house."

"Yeah, each room is made for sex. I am surprised the owners allowed this
place to stay like this."

"Maybe they didn't know."

"Of course they did."

"I don't care."  Frankie just kissed Calvin on the lips. Cal broke it, "I
see you want to test it out."

"I'm horny."

"When are you not?"

"Well, we might as well." Calvin never said no to sex, something Rooming
taught him. As Corey and Matt's romance grew they made sure they love life
stayed spontaneous.  They fucked in a college classroom.  Cal kissed his
friend back and locked the bedroom door. Frankie then grabbed the blindfold
and put in on Cal.

Before he knew it Cal was down to his boxers on the bed as Frankie liked
his entire body. "Enter me please."

Just as he was about to put his cock in him, there was a knock on the door.

*************************

Please email me your comments, questions, critics, as I look forward to

hearing from you.

andywasputz@hotmail.ca