Date: Sat, 25 Feb 2017 17:00:00 -0500
From: MGTBILL@aol.com
Subject: DYLAN'S JUNIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE  Chapter  31

DYLAN'S  JUNIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE


Chapter  31


by  Donny Mumford


Frankie's  text is succinct and straightforward. Even though Robby just
read it, I  read it out loud, "Yes and yes. Beth and I would like to talk  with
you today?" Rob raises his eyebrows and shrugs, muttering, "Yep,  that's
exactly what it said when I read it." Shaking my head, I mumble, "So  it
means: yes, she's pregnant and yes, it's you. I guess that  Lee-person used a
good condom."  Rob mutters, "That was always a  long-shot." Well, whatever... I
was actually hoping for Lee to come  through for us. I wanted the long-shot
to come in so we'd be outta  this soap opera completely. Rob mutters, "Fuck
me!" and he sits at  the kitchen bar. Looking at the text on Rob's
cellphone again, I say,  "Well, obviously Frankie's told Beth, like we suggested.

Huh, now I'm not  sure if that's a good thing or not."

As I'm  handing Rob his cellphone, he asks, "Should we have the  talk with
them now, do you think?" I go, "Yeah, let's get it  over with." With his
elbows on the bar and his cellphone held up between  his hands, Rob uses his
rapidly moving thumbs to send Frankie a  text. As he types each word, he says
it out loud, 'Come- on- over- and-  we'll- talk.' Then he says to me, "We
can talk until we're blue in the  face, but what is there to talk about that
we haven't already  discussed?" I  mumble, "We won't know until we hear
what's on Frankie's mind." Rob  mumbles, "With Beth chirping in her ear who knows
what she'll come up with."  Standing next to him at the bar, I squeeze his
shoulder, quietly saying,  "Whatever she has on her mind, you need to know
what it is. After our  talk with the girls, let's you and me go out and get
drunk." He shakes his  head, "Nah, I don't want to deal with a hangover
tomorrow. Not with this  shit hanging over my head." Oh great, let's sit around
pouting and moping all  day. I don't say that, but Rob's week-long gloominess
is getting old.

The  girls buzz at the back door and Rob pushes the button allowing them
entrance.  Thirty seconds later there's a quiet, "Tap, tap," on the door and
he opens it,  mumbling, "C'mon in," then, "How you feeling, Frankie?" She
says, "Okay so far,  and thank you for asking." Beth says, "Hello to you two.

Let's get  this out of the way right from the start: I'm here so you boys
don't gang-up on  Frankie again like you did last Monday." I mutter, "That's
bullshit.  We didn't gang up on anybody." Frankie says, "Beth, please! I never
said they  ganged-up on me. Can we talk civilly?" Beth points her thumb at
me, saying,  "I'll see to it that this one keeps his two-cents to himself."

I say, "Who the  hell are you to tell me..." and Frankie's like, "Beth! You
and Dylan can go  down the hall and yell at each other if that's what you
want to do. Rob and  I are going to exchange a couple of ideas in a civil
manner. Right, Rob?" He  goes, "Sure," and Beth glares at me. Apparently Beth's
determined that  I'm the bad guy. I mutter, "Why all the anger, Beth? Your
time of the  month?" and she shakes her head at me, dismissively, saying, "Do
you even  realize how crude that is considering what we need to talk about
today? You're  such a shit." Beth goes, "Please!" so I don't get to respond
to that cunt, Beth.  Probably a good thing too because she's kinda right
about my unfortunate  reference to her period considering Frankie missed her's
weeks ago. I wasn't  thinking when I blurted that out.

Rob  asks, "Can I get you girls something to drink? A soda, coffee, or..."

They  shake their heads and we all, one by one, sit around the kitchen
table. Frankie says, "Okay, I'm really sorry, Rob, but you are the  one," and
she hands him a computer printout. He glances at it as she adds,  "Since we
now know definitively that you are the, um, one, do you have  any new ideas or
opinions since we last talked?" He goes, "I guess  not." She looks at Beth,
"We didn't think you would. Okay, here's the deal: Beth  is strongly of the
opinion I should abort the pregnancy and never let  my folks or anyone else
know about it. I hate the idea with every fiber of  my being, but there
simply aren't many options. What do you think about that,  Rob?" He mumbles,
"I'm against abortion on general principles, not necessarily  religious ones,
but it's your body, Frankie. Your decision carries much  more weight than
mine." I mutter, "Or Beth's, for that matter." Beth glares  at me. Frankie
sighs, then says, "If you and I were lovers, Rob, I wouldn't even  consider
doing it, but we're not. You and the pretty boy over there,"  nodding at me as
I sit opposite Robby, "are the only lovers in the room, so  Beth's right.

Unless you can give me a compelling reason not to... you know, I'm  going to
do it." Beth says, "And you'll pay half, Rob." He doesn't even look at  her,
so she adds, "And if you ask me," I mumble, "Which no one has." She  glares
at me again, finishing her thought, "I feel, since Frankie needs to  suffer
through the procedure, Rob should pay for all of it." Rob's hanging  his
head, mumbling, "Not that it's any of your fucking business, Beth, but I'll
pay for it, that is... if it has to be done." Frankie's incredulous,
shouting, "What do you mean, IF it has to be done. What choice do I  have?" He
shrugs, mumbling, "There's two choices."

Nobody  says anything to that obvious remark and within seconds the silence
begins  roaring in my ears, so I finally say, "This is very brave of you,
Frankie. And,  for what it's worth, it's the only way you two will be able to
get back to  leading normal lives." All three of them frown at me, so I go,
"Yeah, um, time  will heal the wounds associated with this unpleasant
choice. Plus, dealing  with this on your own is sparing your parents a lot of
anguish, when you  think about it. Sparing yourself a lot of anguish too, for
that matter." Frankie  nods her head, "Dylan's right. I considered what it'd
be like telling my  parents, and the thought of letting them down this way
would break my  heart." Beth says, "There's also the fact that you and Rob
are adults and  shouldn't need to go running to mommy and daddy when something
unpleasant needs  to be dealt with." Frankie goes, "No shit, Beth! Do you
need to put it in such a  crude way though?" Beth goes, "Well, I'm upset too,
Frankie. It doesn't just  effect you and Rob, ya know." I go, "For once in
her life Beth is right.  More importantly though, no one else ever needs to
know. And I'm not inferring  you've committed something unheard of, because
you haven't. This situation  happens all too often. But still, this has
nothing to do with anyone else, so  it's none of anyone else's business." Beth
goes, "Is it okay with you,  Dylan, if Frankie tells her doctor about it,
Mister Obvious?" I go, 'Fuck you,  Beth!" And Rob says, "Beth, if you dump on
Dylan one more fucking time, you'll  need to leave. You don't know what
you're talking about  anyway." Frankie goes, "You're all giving me a headache.

We'll make a  pact to take this incident to the grave with us. Okay, Rob?" Rob
murmurs, "Of  course."

That  was a bit overly dramatic considering over a million abortions are
performed  each year in the United States alone, but to Rob and, especially
Frankie,  their's is  the only one they're thinking about. I get that. Rob
asks, "So that's it then?  It's decided?" Frankie says, "Unless you have a
better idea, yes it's decided.  Before I did anything though I wanted to run it
past you." Rob mumbles,  "Thank you, I only wish to God I had something
insightful to add, but  I don't. I feel very bad for you, Frankie, and I will
pay for the whole thing.  Um, do you know how much it'll cost?" Frankie
shrugs, "No, not really," and Beth  say, "Anywhere up to $1500." Rob repeats,
"Fifteen hundred dollars, huh?" I'm  thinking, Jesus!
We're  in another no-talking, dead-end zone and again the silence is
quickly mounting, so I go, "Well, um, this is all a damn shame, but I want  to
say I think you're being very brave, Frankie." Beth goes, "You already said
that," and Rob snaps-out, "Do you need to be such a bitch, Beth?" Then,
Frankie  says, calmer, "Dylan's being very sweet." Beth mutters, "He's  a sweetie
alright." Rob goes, "Fuck you, Beth! You're not helping anything  with your
snarky comments. Why don't you get the hell outta here!"  Frankie stands,
saying, "The sooner I do this the better for... well, for all of  us. I've
been Googling about fetuses and apparently at six weeks the  fetus inside me
is about the size of a lentil bean; at the most it's a  quarter inch in size.

If that's any comfort to you, Rob. I know you're against  abortion, but..."

and she shrugs, then adds, "I'm getting the procedure done as  early as
possible next week." Rob reaches over and pats Frankie's arm,  saying, "Thanks
for telling me about the size. I picture in my head... well,  never mind.

Um, can I come with you?" She goes, "It'd be better if you don't,  but thanks
for offering." Beth stands now too, saying, "Rob, you and I will  handle the
money. Can you get the cash by next week?" He mutters, "Yeah, of  course,
whatever. I'll withdrawal the money at the ATM in Stop & Shop."  Frankie
says, "That's generous of you, Rob. I'll put whatever it  cost on my debit card
and you can reimburse me, but it won't be nearly  $1500.00." The girls never
took their coats off, so when Rob and I stand, the  girls drift with Rob
toward the door.

The  vibes coming off the four of us I'd imagine would be similar to ones
after we'd just conspired to bring down the government, or something  as
nefarious as that. It's like we all feel guilty for being a part of the
abortion decision. And, actually I do feel guilty, but I think it's the  only
sensible option when everything's considered. At the door Rob  touches Frankie's
arm, muttering, "I'm sorry about everything,  Frankie. If there's anything
I can do to help, like drive you, or do  something afterward, or whatever
just let me know." Frankie says, "Thank you,  Rob, but I think the best thing
for me, for both of us, would be if we  don't see too much of each other for
a while, and I mean no offense by  that. It's just that seeing you will
remind me of, you know... Anyway I'll  eventually get over it, probably." He
says again, "I'm sorry, Frankie,"  like he did something wrong. He didn't do a
fucking thing wrong! And I'm  not just taking his side; I'm being perfectly
 objective.

The  door closes and Rob looks at me shaking his head, murmuring, "It's
sad. The  whole fucking thing is sad and I feel awful about it." I nod, patting
his  shoulder. Then, for the next hour or so there's more moping around the
apartment  with almost nothing to say. After Rob's increased the gloom
factor sufficiently, he sighs, then mumbles, "Guess I'll go over and make  the
first abortion withdrawal. Maximum withdrawal at Bank of America  is
five-hundred-dollars every twenty-four hours." I say, "I'll come with you,  Rob. I
need to shop for this weekend's groceries." He sighs, then shrugs,  "Would
you drive, babe? I just don't..." I go, "Sure, um," then trying to sound
up-beat, I go, "Let's invite Golden for dinner tonight." He shakes his head,
"Nah, I'm not up for company." Overreacting much, Rob? Not that I'd say that
to  him. I'll be supportive within reason, but if I do too much  supporting
there will come a point where I'm enabling him to wallow in  self-pity or
guilt, or whatever the fuck it is he wallowing in. I'm going to  need to shake
him out of it at some point.

In the  pickup, as I'm waiting for the light at the exit from the apartment
complex, I  say, "It's a terribly unfortunate situation and a hard decision
was made; the  only sensibly one I might add, but continuing to dwell on it
doesn't  do anyone any good." The light changes and I drive onto route 114
as Rob  mutters, "Yeah, I know what you're saying, Dylan, and you're right,
but let  me feel like shit about this for a few days at least, okay? I'll
work through it  and eventually accept the inevitable. I know that shit
happens,  and all that other psycho babble." I ask, "What exactly is it you're
working through? It's pretty cut and dry." He says, "I've got conflicting and
troubling concerns, Dylan. Isn't it obvious?" I say, "Humor me and explain
it to me so that a six-year-old  would  understand it." He looks at me,
"Well for one thing, I can't believe how  stupid I've been with the whole
Frankie connection, and I mean right from  the start. I allowed myself to be
flattered and led around too much by her. So  I'm not feeling too good about
myself in that regard, and I'm not feeling  too good about her either. I don't
want to blame it all on Frankie though, it  isn't all her fault, but she
kept encouraging me. It's like,  between Frankie and me we created a conspiracy
of dunces scenario;  one that led us down this path. So I'm pissed at her,
while at the same  time I feel bad for her. I'm royally pissed-off at myself
too, and I need  time to somehow rationalize a lessening of the stupidity
and guilt I'm  feeling." I nod my head, murmuring, "Sure, Rob. Jeez, I didn't
expect you'd be  able to articulate it so clearly. Um, of course I'll give
you your space  for a while, then I'll help with the rationalizing because
this is  mostly not your fault. Not compared to the sneakiness of the girls
and their giant egos making that bet." He goes, "Not now though. It's too
soon to start rationalizing," and I say, "Right, later on we'll work on
that."

Inside  Stop & Shop Rob goes to the ATM and I get a shopping basket. After
withdrawing five hundred dollars, he  grumpily walks next me as I shop for
provisions with almost no conversation  between us. Back at the apartment I
text everyone that there's no card  game tonight. It looks like Rob and I
are in for the rest of the day,  as well as, tonight. There's almost no
talking while I give him his space as I  nearly go insane listening to him do deep
sighs every two  minutes. We watch TV and eat sandwiches for dinner.

Obviously he's not in  the mood for sex Friday night or Saturday morning. Then,
after coffee and  a blueberry muffin for breakfast, we put on our winter
jackets to have a smoke on the balcony. It's a bright blue day with temperature
in the low forties. Nice morning for this late in November. The  married
neighbor who occasionally plays poker with us walks out the  back door with
his wife and, looking up at us, they both wave and smile as  the man yells
something. Whatever it was he yelled makes him and  his wife grin. We can't
make-out what he said but we both wave and sort of  smile as if we heard him.

They get in a Volvo station wagon and drive off, as I  ask, "Rob, are we
getting haircuts today?" He sighs, and says, "Yeah, we  should I guess. Would
you text Golden?" I go, "Sure, but you've got to do  something really
important for me." Looking at me, he goes, "Of course,  what is it, Dylan?" I go,
"I'm going to stick something very sharp in my  eardrum if you don't stop
sighing." He chuckles and gives my shoulders a hug,  mumbling, "You've had
enough of my 'whoa-is-me' sighing routine, huh?" I  nod, "Yes, it's causing my
brain to seize-up and it feels like a needle is going  in the back of my head
where my spine connects with my brain stem, and that  happens with every
sigh you take; it's quite painful." He goes, "Noted... no  more sighing." That
sort of loosens him up a little.

We  finish our smokes. Then, as soon as we get inside Rob's phone beeps. He
talks  for a few seconds, then says, "Dylan, would you mind If I head out
to  do some batting practice with Golden? The indoor batting cage is always
available to the team and I'd like to work up a sweat hitting baseballs...

get  my mind on something I love doing." I'm like, "Absolutely! What a great
idea!  Anyway Steve Church wants a haircut today so I'll do that while
you're  batting baseballs." He's already wearing his coat, so he heads for the
door,  saying, "Thanks, babe. Don't bother texting Golden, I'll check with him
 about our haircuts while we're at the batting cage, then text you." Jeez,
his mood really perks-up anticipating a baseball activity; great idea,
Golden!  Of course Golden has no idea about the pregnancy, but he's come up with
a  really good temporary solution for Rob's moodiness.

When  Rob takes off I text Steve and he texts back saying he'll be right
over. Then I get an idea and text him right back, "Ask your roommate  if he'd
like a haircut." I've tried reaching out to Ryan but, while he's  cordial,
he seems flat-lined socially.  It's those meds he's taking. Ryan isn't
motivated to do too much of  anything except eat, do the college work, and hang
out in his dorm  playing XBOX games. Glad I never got hooked on the XBOX
mania myself. Steve  texts back, "Yeah, Ryan's coming too. See you in 10." Wow,
that's unexpected! I  thought Ryan would blow-off the offer. Damn, I feel a
little excited.  Funny, but just saying Ryan's name makes me feel funny. Our
sexual history  together was monumental of course, and I do miss our
sub/dom sex more than  I even admit to myself, but what can I do if he's not
interested in doing  it? Nothing, that's what. He won't be returning to Merrimack
after finals  week; well, after Christmas break actually, so this is the
end of him and I can  hardly believe it. This semester has flown by without me
seeing much of  Ryan except for the Friday morning class we have together.

He's  usually friendly, but there's no hello kiss like he used to give me.

The time I tried giving him a kiss 'hello' he turned his cheek, mumbling,
"No, don't, Dylan." Sitting next to him in class I often get aroused thinking
of  our many, many sexy exploits together, and then sneak  some sideward
glances at his sexy self.

A kid  from Marietta, Jeff Bell, and I seem to be the only two guys on
earth who recognize something special in Ryan. Jeff actually  emailed me a few
weeks ago asking if I've noticed a change in Ryan. I emailed  him back being
vague, saying Ryan's definitely more reserved than I can  ever recall him
being in the past. I wasn't sure whether to mention the  meds or not, and
then Jeff mentioned them in a text and we both agreed  Ryan's better off
without them. We were texting back and forth for a ten or  twelve-day period,
mostly about Ryan. I think we each were trying to impress the other with  how
much Ryan liked us... one more than the other.  Sort of a competition I
guess. It surprised me how close Jeff's and  Ryan's relationship became after I
left Georgia. From what I gleaned reading  between the lines Jeff took my
place, and Ryan was quite controlling of him;  maybe even more so than with me.

For some weird reason I felt jealous about  that and was pissed at Ryan for
replacing me so easily. Jeff and I joked  about Ryan's barbering and we
both alluded to the sex that followed. Jeff  actually bragged about how
submissive Ryan could make him feel, but in a really  good way. I guess we're kind
of alike in that regard. I stopped texting, well I  tampered off the
texting, then finally stopped when it was obvious how important  Jeff had become to
Ryan. Or maybe Jeff was embellishing the hell out of his  stories. Another
reason I stopped texting was Jeff was getting into  unnecessarily graphic
details of his and Ryan's  sex last summer.

Jeff's  texts motivated me to suggest to Ryan, weeks ago, that we try some
sub/dom  sex again in his dorm after class. He was very nice about  it
saying he'd love to, and how much he missed it, but he  simply didn't feel right
while on his medication program. He'd be a lousy  sex partner, in other
words. Turned down once, I haven't suggested it since.  He's determined to get
his own apartment the first of the year and, according to  his parents, the
meds are required before that will happen. When he  has the apartment he'll
probably stick it to his parents and stop  taking everything. Jeff texted
one-time sort of  bragging he'd be Ryan's roommate next semester. No shit,
they're going to  the same university. I could have been Ryan's roommate if I
wanted to be. What  Jeff doesn't seem to get is he's second choice. Still, heh
heh, I kinda wish it  was one of the other goofy-looking Marietta boys Ryan
replaced me with. Jeff's  actually quite desirable. Yeah, in hindsight, I
made a mistake not getting it on  with Jeff more than that one-time last
summer.

Oh  well, Steve and Ryan will be here for haircuts any minute now so I
better stop this daydreaming and get things set-up. Wow though, it  sure is a
relief thinking about something other than the pregnancy. As I get the
professional barber equipment out I'm surprised to find I'm feeling  oddly
nervous about being with Ryan. I mean, outside of a classroom. I'm glad  Steve's
going to be here too. As I'm having that thought the back door buzzer  goes
off and I buzz them in, then check myself out quickly in the mirror over  the
sofa. Oh forget about it! My hair is beginning to look like shit. That
stupid SuperCut regular haircut grows out weirdly. A knock at the door and
when I open it I see only Ryan. A tentative frown breaks out on my face as  he
goes, "Hey, Dylan. Um, Steve took the Mini to the book store for some
things. Blue books or something. How ya doing?" I close the door and hug Ryan,
saying, "I'm good. How 'bout you?" His body's stiff but he squeezes back
slightly, not harder or softer than a greeting for anyone he  knows.

He  goes, "I'm just starting to get over a cold, which is why I missed
yesterday's class. I don't think I'm contagious now though and, well, I  really
wanted to get out of the dorm, so thanks for  thinking of me." I go, "I
think of you a lot, Ryan. We're awesome friends."  Actually, truth be known, I
can go a week at a time without giving him  a thought. Should I feel guilty
about that? He says, "Yeah, ha, good  friends, that's us, Dylan. Um, where
are you doing the haircuts?"  Everything he says is in a monotone. I say,
"Help me push the kitchen table  over." We do that and I pull a kitchen
barstool away from the bar and pat the  seat. Ryan takes off his shirt and sits on
the stool as I plug in the  clippers. Grinning, I give his shoulders a hug
mumbling, "I've missed doing this  for you, Ryan." He goes, "Aww, thanks. I
guess you've been missing me the last  couple of months like we've both been
here, but not like we used to be,  um, here," and he chuckles, adding,
"We're here, but we're not." I murmur,  "I'm not sure I get what you mean by
that." He runs his fingers through his  hair, ignoring that, saying instead,
"Remember when I asked you what I could do  with my hair after Felix and I got
haircuts?" I do, and at the time I said  something like, 'There's nothing
you can do with it after that sucky  SuperCuts haircut' Something like that.

Nodding my head, I go, "Yeah,  I remember," and he says, "Well that was my
last haircut. It's like two  months so  obviously my hair is much too long."

Actually my hair is unruly too  and it's odd Ryan doesn't mention that or,
God forbid, he starts  nagging me to let him give me his specialty haircut.

Damn, I didn't even think  of that possibility until this very second.

Since  he's obviously not going to explain his 'We're here but not here'
comment, I  drop it too, asking, "What kind of haircut would you like?" He
says, "Whichever  haircut you think I look best with." I'm like, "Which one is
that?" and he says,  "You decide." It pisses me off that guys don't know
what they want. How the fuck  do I know what they'll like.  I  can do that with
Chubby, but that's about it. I ask, "Do you want preppy maybe,  or shorter
than that, or longer?" He sort of flaps his palms up, muttering,  "That's
for you to decide." I fake a chuckle, "So you won't give me a hint,  huh?" In
his monotone voice, he says, "I don't really care, Dylan. These meds,  ya
know. I'm sorry for being such a bore, really." I go, "No, ha, you  really
shouldn't put yourself down like that." Then, being upbeat,  I say, "It's nice
seeing you," and I give his shoulders a hug. Huh,  his scent is gone. Where
are his pheromones? Ryan says, "You're nice to say  that. Thank you," and he
reaches a hand up... for me to squeeze, I guess. I hold  his hand for two
seconds and, believe it or not, my dick moves a little.  Letting go of his
hand, I take a comb and run it though his hair,  saying, "Like I've always
told you, Ryan, you have awesome hair. It's fun  cutting hair like yours." He
shrugs, and I say, "But first you need a scalp  massage for old times sake."

Putting  the comb down I begin rubbing my fingers through his clean hair,
then  massage his scalp as he lulls his head back, going, "Mmmm, that's nice.

Feels  good being pampered by you again, Dylan. I miss the way you were
always trying  to please me back home. That was special." I don't remember
'always trying  to please him'.  And I'm mystified as to where his  sexy scent
got to. It's probably another horrible side-effect from the meds. My  fingers
work their way down the back of his head to his neck, then his shoulders
with Ryan's body becoming very relaxed. Only now by comparison do I realize
how tense he was when he first arrived.

After  about two minutes he says, "Dylan, thank you for all your little
attempts  to be affectionate today. Heh heh, I almost got my first boner in a
week."  I hug around his neck and then squeeze the back of his neck. He
shudders  like he got chills, then says, "Emphasis on  the almost aspect of
getting a hard-on, ha ha. It's the meds  preventing erections, babe, certainly
not you. I must say though, it's very  reassuring, and does my ego good, that
you still obviously have a  thing for me. I've missed you fawning all over
me." I go, "Sure,  Ryan, I've still got a thing for you and I'll probably
always have it to some degree, but I've never fawned all over you." He snorts,
 "I can't imagine what you'd call it then. Hey, I liked it, I  wasn't
criticizing." Could he be delirious?
While  I'm attaching a guide to the clippers, he says, "It's reassuring to
me that you  still can't seem to help openly showing how arouse you get
around me,  and your sexual desire, as always, shows-up in your eyes. And yeah,
maybe it sounds like I'm bragging, but it's so obvious how you  get aroused
being around me and like touching me." I go, "Yeah,  I'd say that qualifies
as bragging alright, heh heh, but a lot of  that stuff you're claiming is,
um, from fantasy-land I'm afraid. It's  probably the meds." He ignores
everything I said, and goes, "You've been  more than a little infatuated with me,
baby, and yet you still  defer to your first love. I'm left with memories
and fantasies of what  might have been. And not just for me either; you've
lost out too whether you  admit it to yourself or not." I go, "Ya know what?
This is  probably too deep a conversation for us to have now, don't you
think, Ryan? I mean considering you're on all your various medications and  all
that." He shrugs, "You're right, but you're the one who's been teasing  and
flirting with me from the minute I got here. Anyway, um, are you  planning
on doing my haircut sometime today, or... just saying." I'm  thinking, 'What
a ginormice ego you have!' muttering,  "Yes, boss. Do the haircut today. I
got it." He actually chuckles a little,  mumbling, "You loved me being your
boss too." My-my, someone is thinking highly  of themselves today.

Not  wanted any part of furthering this egomaniac's conversation, I get to
doing his haircut. I'll give him a very good preppy haircut. One  that's
the opposite of the last one he got at SuperCuts. "Ryan, I'm giving  you a
really preppy haircut that I think you'll look very handsomely cute with."  He
goes. "Well okay then. I like the sound of that, baby." That's  the second
time he's used the word 'baby' and both times  it's sounded odd coming from
him, although I did get used to hearing it  from him in Georgia. Using the
clippers with various attachments I taper  his neck's hairline and around his
ears on the sides, but most of the cutting is  done with scissors over comb
for this haircut. Then on top I comb up his longish  hair, catch a batch
between my forefinger and middle finger of my left hand  and close the scissors
with a subtle, 'Scrunch,' sound as the scissors cut  through that batch of
hair. This is repeated maybe twenty times before the top  blends perfectly
with the sides and back. After outlining around and behind his  ears with the
trimmer-clippers I wet a comb and comb his hair with a part and  a small
pompadour in front. Passing him the handheld mirror, I'm like,  "I think it
looks very good on you, Ryan." He goes, "Beautiful job, Dylan,  thanks!" Well
sure, I love to hear compliments, but then... who  doesn't?
I'm  brushing hair clipping off his shoulders, noticing his taut  skin
against the palm of my hands, as I'm saying, "Ryan, I've always been  the one
who has needed to ask; so just for the record, so you can't say I never
asked. I'm coming right out and asking you to do your fantastic sub/dom sex  with
me one last time before you leave. Not today, but a day of your choosing."

He turns to look me in the eyes, and tells me the same thing he told me a
month  ago, "Of course we'd both  like doing that, Dylan, but I'm presently
not capable of doing you justice.  And anyway, you had your chance at me way
back at the beginning of the semester.  You weren't interested then, so...

you blew it. But listen! Believe it or  not, I'll give you another chance.

Not here at Merrimack though. I checked  on this and you have spring break the
same time we have it, so visit me at my  apartment over spring break and
I'll make up for lost time between us.  You, me, and Jeff will break sexual
world-records. Okay?"

Quite a  proposition, except for one word. Well, one name too many is what
it actually  was. Plus, I'll probably be working for Rob during spring
break. I should  come right out and say it's not possible, but under much
different  circumstances I'd actually like to do that... even with Jeff  as an
equal partner. Like I said, he's the cutest of all the Marietta boys  and kind
of sexy. We're not living under different circumstances  however, so what I
find myself saying is, "I'm not sure how I can make that  happen, Ryan, but
thank you for the invitation." He starts telling me, in a  voice more
animated than his usual monotone, about the apartment he's  getting and how he'll
recreate for me the relationship we had last summer.  I roll my eyes at his
pretentious claims of providing me what I  need. That's  his assumption: that
I'm currently not getting what I need from him,  meaning Rob. A knock at
the door interrupts Ryan's pompous bull-shit. He flips  his hand back towards
me, saying, "I know you're trying to extend contact  with me, but that's
enough combing of my hair, Dylan." He stands and,  putting his shirt on, says,
"Spend spring break with me, Dylan, and we'll both  be better for it."

Without commenting, I go over and open the door.  Steve Church comes in, asking,
"Whassup, guys." Then he goes, "Nice haircut,  Rye! Oh, I got our blue books
and the other shit I needed. All that stuff  is in your Mini." Then he
gives me the quick one-arm hug,  briefly clasping my right hand instead of a
handshake.  That's Pony's greeting too.

Ryan  goes, "Thanks, Stevie. Look guys, I'm gonna run over and get the Mini
filled-up  at the gas station. I'll be back in ten minutes or so. Can I get
you anything  while I'm out?" We  shake our heads with Steve saying, "Nope,
I'm good." As for me, I'm staring at  Ryan... surprised at my earlier
reaction to him. I mean when he first took  his shirt off and while cutting his
hair, that plus the  combination of sexual memories of Ryan and me, with him
right  here, plus my haircut fetish, conspired to get my dick feel funny.

That is until  he talked too much about how awesome he thinks he is, and how
much he thinks I  need him. I'm like, "Yeah, okay, Ryan, we'll be here." Ryan
goes out the  door as I take a deep breath wondering why I'm still
attracted to him at  all.

Steve's  just standing here with a goofy grin. He finally says, "Did I miss
something?" I  shake my head, "Nah, it was nice seeing Ryan, that's all.

Here, take a seat." He  goes, "Without my shirt, right?" I nod and he takes
his shirt off. Then, holding  his shirt, he goes, "It's none of my business,
and I don't know what happened  between you two, but the first couple of
weeks of the semester I  thought you two were really cool as an, um, couple I
guess is the term. The  way you looked up to my roomie, and the way he had
this almost casual way  of being the 'man' and you were his, um, I don't know,
submissive  something, um, submissive 'bottom', is that right? Bottom? You
gay guys have your terminology that I'm unfamiliar with... heh heh."  I'm
staring at him like he's from Mars. I don't recall acting that way with  Ryan,
especially when Steve was around. He's grinning, saying, "I'll tell you
something, Dylan; something I'll deny I ever said on a stack of  Bibles if  I
must, but you two were so sexy together. Ya know, I almost asked Ryan to
give  it a go with me. I mean after you stopped coming around. You two  were
really, um, I want to say hot, but I thought it was cool too the way  you
acted towards him. I wanted to try being submissive like you were  with him.

Just to try it. Something I've never experienced... like that, ya  know?" I'm
still staring dumbfounded at him. He sees my expression so he gets  real
serious now as he pats my shoulder, saying, "Oh! I'm sorry,  Dylan, did I say
the wrong thing? I know you guys broke-up or whatever you call  it. I didn't
mean to bring up..." and I finally find my tongue, "No, no, Steve,  No
problem. At least not like that. I just don't remember me acting remotely the  way
you described, but, ha ha, you were there, weren't you? It obviously
looked that way to you, huh?" He says, "Sort of, but mostly it's things Ryan
told me about the summer you spent with him." Oh... now I see. Ryan
embellishing what a hot shit he was and how I was his submissive boy trying  really
hard to please him. Get real! What an ass Ryan is for telling tales about  me.

Steve,  probably confused, nods his head a couple of times then sits on the
stool  tossing his shirt on a kitchen chair, mumbling, "I probably
misunderstood. I was  just making conversation I thought you'd be interested in, but
I really am sorry  if I misspoke about, um, whatever." Wow, I don't know
what to say to all that,  so I try for conversation-light. "So, you considered
trying the other side of  the street by acting submissive while Ryan fucked
you, huh? Are you  gonna share that with your girlfriend?" He chuckles,
"No, no, it never got  nearly that far! I said, I almost asked him. And anyway,
get  this: my girlfriend calls me gay every other day, so she  probably
wouldn't be shocked if I did tell her, which I've no intention of  doing," and
he does a nervous fake laugh. I go, "You're kidding. She calls  you gay?"

and he says, "No seriously, I'm not mister macho, but I ain't gay  either..."

and we say together, "Not that there's anything wrong with that." A  good
couple of chuckles seems to get things back on track, so I ask, "What about
your haircut?" He goes, "I liked that preppy number you did for Ryan, but can
 you give me the same haircut I got from you last time. I'd be most
appreciative,  although please say 'no' if I lose my mind and offer you money." I
snort  out a laugh, muttering, "I'll try not taking your money, um, in the
unlikely  event you offer any." We both chuckle as I'm thinking back to his
first haircut. Yeah, I copied the SuperCut regular haircut he had before.

Steve's another haircut-clueless, albeit happy in his ignorance, regular  guy.


He's  average looking about an inch or so taller than Ryan, and about two
inches  shorter than me. Steve's most noteworthy feature is his sexy mouth.

Nice  lips and super white teeth. His mouth and tongue are pink  and
clean-looking. Regular brown hair and a fairly developed beard that he  doesn't
shave regularly. I don't think it's a style statement so much as he's  lazy in
that regard. Nice agreeable personality, but he tends to say  things you're
not expecting, like the time he told me he likes looking at  guys' penises.

Yeah, he claims the variety and sizes are amazing, and he once  saw a boy in
high school with a two-inch dick. I  surprised him by telling him about Tim,
without mentioning his name because Ryan  knows Timmy from Marietta better
than I do. It's like this: Steve doesn't  have a filter between what he
thinks and what comes out of his mouth, as an  example his bizarre ramblings
about me and Ryan two minutes  ago.

As I'm  cutting the hair at the sides and back of his head to a uniform
half-inch, I  ask, "Have you seen any interesting penises lately." He goes,
"Nah, there isn't  much in the way of interesting dicks on our floor. I've made
it a point to  shower at different times on different days to share a
shower with most of the  guys on the floor. The most interesting penis I've seen
so far is Ryan's. Wow,  he's got a biggie." I go, "I know that for sure,"

and he asks, "Do you mind me  asking if he gets all of it up your ass?" I
shrug, "Yeah, I do mind. Um,  I really don't like discussing personal matters
like that. You  understand, I'm sure." He hesitantly asks, "Um, generally
speaking, could  someone take all of Ryan's cock orally?" I chuckle, "Have you
been looking  at gay sex videos again, Steve?" He says, "NO! I just wondered
is all." Done  with the sides and back of his head, I ask, "Do you want some
off the top?" He  nods, "Yes, could you like make it half as long?" I go
"Sure."

I'm  using a comb, scissors, and my fingers to cut the hair on top of his
head as he  asks, "Um, would you ever suck my dick?  Heh heh." I mumble,
"Probably not,  Steve," and he nods like he expected that answer, then goes, "I
asked Ryan and  he said, 'No' too, and he told me not to ask again... heh
heh." Cutting  off about an inch and a half of hair all over the top of his
head, I  ask, "Why do you want a guy to suck you off?" He says, "Because no
guy ever has,  and I'm wondering if a gay guy does it better than my
girlfriend." I go, "Oh,  I'm sure we gay guys do it better. Um, I wouldn't imagine
you've ever sucked  another guy's cock, so why didn't you ask me if you could
suck mine?" He laughs,  "Funny that I never thought of it that way. It's
just seeing you and Ryan; two  openly gay guys that got me trying to picture in
my head the sucking and fucking  you guys get to do." He asks again, just
to make sure I guess, "So, you  really wouldn't consider sucking my cock even
if I let you?" I snort out a  laugh, "No, sorry, Steve, but I'd let you
suck mine." He goes, "No offense, but  I'm mostly interested in the other way
around." No shit!
As I'm  using the trimming clippers outlining around and behind his ears
there's a buzz  from the back door. I finish the last of the trimmer clippers
by  squaring off the hairline at the back of his neck, and then hit the
buzzer button letting Ryan in the building. Brushing the hair off  Steve's
shoulders, he goes, "Seriously, Dylan, would you keep our cock sucking
conversation between you and me?" I go, "Definitely, Steve," then I go, "Well,
there's your haircut, same as last time." He gets up brushing his lap, saying,
"Thanks, man, you're a really good barber." I go over to the door and have
it  opened as Ryan's walking towards me down the hall. His hair is exactly
like I  combed it before he left, so he must like the way it looks. We
casually bump  fists as he says, "Hey, Dylan," then, "All done Steve?" I answer for
him,  "Yep, he's done. Hey, would you guys like a beer or a soda?" Ryan
says, "No  thanks, I need to study my balls off for the finals coming up in a
few  weeks."  Steve's got his shirt back on, saying, "Yeah, me too."

Steve  puts his coat on and stands next to Ryan, and there you have it: the
good  haircut and the other one. Steve needs to use the bathroom so I tell
him where  it is, then fish for compliments, asking, "So, do you like the
haircut okay,  Ryan?" He nods, "Yes, you're a really talented barber." I say,
"I can't do the  fade haircut as well as you though." Then scream in my
head, 'Are you fucking  crazy?' Why would you bait Ryan into suggesting he give
me his specialty  haircut? I'm insane! But Ryan's shaking his head,
mumbling, "Fuck, I don't  even know how I do that to be honest about it. It just
happened  accidentally and I kept doing the same thing each time I gave you
boys  haircuts." I ask, "Did Tim keep coming for haircuts after I left?" He
says,  "Yeah, him and Jeff. Why wouldn't they?" I shrug, "No reason, I guess."

Ryan  goes, "I'd like to think you're unaware you're doing this, Dylan, but
you're flirting with me again; taunting me, some might say." I go,  "I'm
sorry! I didn't realize that, and I actually don't think I was. It  was just a
fishing expedition for compliments about the haircut I  gave you. Plus, you
know about my haircut fetish. There aren't many guys I can  talk
'haircutting' with, ya know?" He pats my cheek, like I'm nine years old,  saying, "I
know you want it badly, and how much you miss it, baby.  Come to Marietta
during spring break, like I told you to, and I'll take care of  all your
desires for you, but for now," and he pinches my nose, "I'm still  pissed-off at
you. Yes, as cute as you are, I'm still pissed off." Oh man, he  can still
royally piss me off too, and what the fuck is he's pissed-off at me  about?
Take another pill, dude!
Steve  comes back, asking, "Ready to go, roomie?"  I walk out with then
quietly  asking Ryan, "What in God's name do you have to be pissed-off at me
about?" He  says, "You know very well, Dylan because I told you months ago.

It's simple, I'm  pissed at you because everything I taught you in Marietta
you discarded as soon  as you left." I'm like, "Oh yeah? Everything you taught
me about what?  What the fuck do you think you taught me?" We're going down
the steps now as he  says, "I taught you how to behave around me, for one
thing. I mean, behave and  know your place as my submissive, um, I would have
said lover, but you reject  that notion. More accurately I could have said
my submissive 'boy',  which you were, but that would hurt your fragile
feelings. " I'm like, "What the fuck are you talking about?" Steve  opens the
door to the parking lot looking back at us still standing three steps  from
the bottom, "You coming, Ryan, or what?" Then he goes, "Thanks  again for the
haircut, Dylan!" Ryan walks down the last couple of steps,  saying, "Yeah,
thanks, Dylan," and he's out the door. Standing here, staring at  the door, I
say out loud, "What a dick!" Going back up the steps I'm trying to  be fair
looking at things through Ryan's eyes. Trying to understand his
perspective: okay maybe I was too flattering to him at times. Or was I? Shit, I  can't
remember saying anything to make him think I was taunting him or flirting
with him. So maybe it's not you, Dylan... maybe he's just plain nuts, to
use a professional psychiatric term.

In the  apartment I realize I didn't even ask them to help me clean up the
hair on the  floor. Well, no good turn goes unpunished. As I get the dustpan
and brush  out of the utility closet I'm still trying to remember what I
said or did  to give Ryan the right to accuse me of teasing, flirting, and
taunting him. When  did being nice to someone, someone who's going through a
fucked-up period in  their life, become teasing or flirting? I don't fucking
think so!  Asshole! I know one thing, and it's for sure, poor Ryan is
delusional about  his so-called training me how to behave around him. First of all,
it's  preposterous for him to think someone needs to behave a certain way
around  him. Okay, I did things his way in Georgia, but I was his houseguest
and I  worked for him during the day. I was at a disadvantage until I left
Georgia, and that's the crux of the matter: I left Georgia and left behind
Ryan's perceived authority over me. I wouldn't be submissive to him at
college  and he took to his meds because of it. Yeah, it's coming back to me now.

Feeling  sorry for him, I tried being extra nice today and he pulls that
bull-shit move  of patting my cheek and saying he'll take care of all my
desires  during spring break. The balls! The ego he must have! Delusional doesn't
 begin to cover it.

Dumping  the hair in the trash, I've got admit at least I enjoyed doing the
 haircuts. And Steve! Ha ha, he's mighty curious about gay sex for a
straight guy who has had  the same girlfriend for like four years now. Hey, maybe
that's why he's curious;  it's getting boring for him. Well, I'm not going
to let Ryan put me in a  bad mood. Sure, I could really go for a random
hard-and-dominant fuck from an  attractive guy who knows how to do it as well as
Ryan. There's nothing new about  that; nothing new since I've been
interested in that the entirety of my sexual  history. It's been a while since I've
participated in a good sub/dom sexual  experience, and I'd really like to
get that itch scratched, so  Ryan didn't need to be clairvoyant to see that.

His flaw though  is misreading how desperate I am to do it with him. It's a
good  thing he didn't hold his breath waiting for me to come crawling to him
for  sub/dom sex these past weeks. The closest I came to that was simply
asking  if he wanted to do it. He said he couldn't and I dropped the subject.

He assumes  after our time together in Marietta that I'd be nagging him for
our form  of sex constantly, and since that hasn't happened he's been in a
deep funk.  Hell, most days I never even think of him. It would shatter his
ego for sure if  he knew that. Yeah, but why am I spending so much time
convincing myself of all  this? I can't win with him. It's a lost cause and the
chance of me spending  spring break with him is so low as to be nonexistent.

Ryan's  up and down roller coaster ride through life can't possibly be
mentally  healthy; more like a ticking time bomb that'll eventually explode.

Yeah,  and it's not as if I haven't wondered about his inconsistencies over the
 past two-plus years, but now the addition of his medications puts a new
light on  things. The entire basis of our relationship, from my point of view,
 has been sex; sub/dom sex specifically. That's been to varying degrees
very  attractive to me. The pinnacle of that interest was during my freshman
year. It  was highest then, but now, compared to my attraction to it then, I
fairly easily was able to reject the offer of it from Ryan. I'm referring
to the beginning of the semester this year. It was my refusal to get his
haircut that put an end to our sexual relationship. I refused to get the same
haircut I'd had all during the last semester of sophomore year, and  then
through the first half of last summer. That's how diminished  the attraction
of his sub/dom sex had become. I rejected it over a haircut  dispute. My
attraction to sub/dom sex hasn't gone up in smoke, however; I've got  the itch
pretty bad right now, but not bad enough to give in to any  demands of
Ryan's. That Marietta haircut acted as a metaphor of him being  dominant. Bottom
line: trying to understand him will drive a person  batty.

Well,  at least these musings got my mind off the pregnancy subject. It's
still  hovering around though, and when my cellphone rings and I see Rob's
caller ID it  all comes rushing back to me. I say, "Hi, Rob, what's up?" He
says, "I'm  bringing a pizza home for our lunch and then we'll head over to
Golden's dorm  for haircuts." I nod, not that he can see me do it, and ask,
"How'd the batting  practice go?" He's excited now, "Awesome, babe. It was
really great taking out  some of my frustration in the batting cage. I got some
sweet swings in  today too, so I feel pretty good about that." We click off
with me hoping his  good spirits carry over to the rest of the day. Okay,
haircuts at Golden's,  where I'm not going to say one fucking word about his
haircutting. Funny  how insignificant a haircut seems when compared to
Frankie and  Rob's pregnancy problems, or Ryan's disturbing persona.

Rob  comes into the apartment a half hour after later carrying a large
pizza box  that I take from him, saying, "I've preheated the over. I'll put four
slices in  to start us off." Rob takes off his backpack and coat, then
comes over to me in  the kitchen and hugs me from behind. "I'm sorry I've been
such a sad-sack all  week, Dylan. Thanks for putting up with me." I turn
around in his arms and  kiss him quickly on the lips, "No problem, Rob. We stick
together and look out  for each other." He smiles, letting go of me,
asking, "Why not reheat the  pizza in the microwave, babe? It'd be faster." As I'm
putting pizza slices  on the oven's rack, I go, "And soggier. I like crispy
crust. When I pick up  a slice of pizza I don't like it to droop over." He
goes, "You always know  what's best when it comes to food," then, "Um, any
further word from the  girls?" Shaking my head, "No, thank God. Frankie said
she doesn't want to see  you, for a while anyhow. I hope you meant a long
while, Frankie." Rob goes,  "Aw, she's okay."

As he's  getting two Cokes from the refrigerator, he mumbles, "Except for,
you know, the  pregnancy, I liked her hanging around with us sometimes." I
go, "That's like a  reporter asking Mrs. Lincoln, 'Except for that, how'd you
like the play?'" Robby  chuckles, then drinks some soda, and says, "How
about how bitchy Beth was?" I  go, "Let's not rehash that meeting." He goes,
"You're right. I didn't think of  it once while Golden and I were taking turns
in the batting cage." I say, "We  need to get out. Go someplace tonight
that gets your mind off Frankie's  situation." He sighs and I give him a look.

Rob shrugs, "Sorry about sighing.  Um, Golden says there's a beer party at
one of those old houses along route 114.  He said six freshman rented the
house for both semesters instead of staying  in a dorm." I ask, "You wanna go
to the party?" He shakes his head, "No, I  don't. You should go though. I'm
staying in because it doesn't seem right to  party while Frankie's got that
procedure hanging over her head just a  couple of days from now." Using a
spatula, I'm carefully removing each slice of  pizza from the oven, saying,
"Nah, I'll stay in with you." Picking up a slice of  pizza Rob bites off the
point of the slice and yells, "Fuck! I burnt the roof of  my mouth. Goddammit,
that sucks!" Taking an exasperated deep breath, I'm putting  four more
slices in the oven, mumbling, "It just came out of the oven, Rob! Give  it a
minute to get below 400 degrees."

He  drops the pizza slice on the kitchen bar and goes over to turn on the
CD  player. 'Walk the Moon's first  CD blasts  out of the player. Rob turns
it down, asking, "Are you going to give Golden a  hard time about your
haircut?" I go, "No! You and I talked this out last time."  He picks up the pizza,
mumbling, "Good! And thank you." We finish the whole  pizza drinking Cokes
but not talking much, so thank God the CD player's on.  Rob would probably
appreciate some time alone so I am going to that party  tonight. Putting the
pizza crusts in the empty pizza box, I say, "Maybe I will  get out tonight
and give you some peace and quiet." He frowns, "I know I'm being  a
pain-in-the-ass, Dylan, and I'm sorry. I'll be better, I promise, but yes, get  out
and have some shots and beers for me. I'll feel better about things if  I
know I'm not dragging you down in the dumps with me. It's just that this is a
pretty big deal. I, um, never expected to have a kid, um, the normal way,
so...." I hug his shoulders, "I think I understand, Rob. I love you," and I
kiss  his cheek. We hug tightly for a couple of second, then he says,  "Let's
get our  coats on and walk over to Golden's dorm."

I've  been doing his haircuts for three years, until this year. I miss
doing it too,  but he feels this is supporting Golden, who he's mentoring, as
Rob reminds me  regularly. I like Golden and now that his short beard hides
his ass-chin  he's a pretty good looking kid too, but he's straight, and only
nineteen to boot. Believe me I waste no time fantasizing about buddy-sex
with him. When we get out of the pickup it's windy as we walk to Golden's
dorm. I put up the hood of my sweatshirt that I usually wear under my  coat.

I'm half wondering if Rob told Golden about Frankie, but I don't want  to
bring up the subject. I'm also not sure if Golden's still dating Beth,  but
don't want to ask about that for the same reason I'm not asking Rob if he  told
Golden about the, um, troubles. I glance at Rob and he grins back at me.

God, that makes me feel good! Just seeing his grin is encouraging so I bump
against his side and Rob puts his arm across my shoulders for a squeeze,
then we  walk the rest of the way with his arm dropping to go around my  waist.

Inside  the dorm room we see they've pushed both the beds out of the way
and there  are guys sitting on them, some of those guys have already had their
 haircut, but they hang around anyway. It's a baseball team bull-shit
session basically. I'm the only one here who isn't on the team. Mostly freshman
and sophomores, except for Rob and one guy I recognize from the team last
year,  Bill Spears, a relief pitcher. There's a lot of fist bumping between
Rob and the  guys, then he joins the conversation as I sit on the floor with
my back against  the wall like last time. I don't mind this now that I've
resigned myself to  joining the crowd, regular haircut-wise I mean. Frankly
I'm glad not to join the  baseball conversation because I like watching the
haircutting. My haircut  fetish enjoys the sound of the barber clippers
buzzing and I like watching  Golden cutting off lots of hair, seemingly without
paying a lot of attention to  what he's doing. It doesn't take much
'paying-attention' doing the cookie-cutter  haircuts Golden does. No one seems to
notice or mind these haircuts, so why  should I? I do of course, but fuck it...

it's only a haircut.

A cute  youngish looking guy I've never seen before is sitting in the
barber's chair  now. The barber's chair is Golden's desk chair and the cute kid
is obviously a  freshman. I hear Golden say, "So, Dickie, you're finally
going to let me cut  your hair, huh?" Dickie has longish brown hair in a
nondescript style. He says,  "My teammates told me that Golden Summers is the team
barber and so, yep,  here I am." Without asking how he wants his hair cut,
Golden runs the  clippers up the back of Dickie's head and lots of
three-inch-long brown hair  falls away from his head. It gives my dick a treat, but
I'm just noticing  something. That's not a half-inch guide on the clippers.

It's either a number 2  or 3 guide. Probably 3, which is three-eighth of an
inch. Last time he used a  number 4 guide, or a half-inch guide. Huh. By the
time Golden's finished fucking  up Dickie's hair I've got a nice boner in my
pants. There's always a bright side  to everything. Every cloud has a silver
lining.

Next a  tall string bean of a guy with a gown-out buzz cut sits in the
barber chair.  Golden's putting a cape around the guy, saying, "The half inch
guide  shit-the-bed on me an hour ago, Jones, so you're getting a three-eighth
inch  buzz this time." Jones says, "I don't give a shit, Summers, as long
as it's  free." Actually, with the three-eighth-inch guide, Golden's squaring
off  at the back doesn't look as blocky. What difference does an eight-inch
 make, you may ask? All I can tell you is it's definitely noticeable to me,
 but probably not to most. As he's doing the buzz cut on string bean I
contemplate getting a buzz myself, but decide not to. I'm still enjoying
having hair to comb and I like the waviness of my hair now that it's like
four-inches-long.

Halfway  through Jones's the clippers start stuttering.  Golden's like,
"What  the fuck?" and he shakes the clippers, then tries again. The clipper
works for a  minute, then starts making a racket. Golden's like, "Dylan, do you
know anything about clippers,  like how they work? This thing might be on
its last  legs." I get up and go over to look at his clippers. "Um, see this
screw? Try  tightening it a little. I'm just guessing here because my
clippers don't have  this screw." He gets a dime and tightens it a little. The
clippers work for  another minute, almost until he finishes this kid's buzz
cut, but not quite. We  fiddle with the clippers some more and he finally gives
up on it and does a  decent job using the trimming clipper to finish the
buzz cut. He goes, "That it  for haircuts guys. My clipper is fucked!"  You
don't say! Ha ha!
Patting  me on the back, Golden goes, "Thanks for helping." Rob gets up,
saying,  "Dylan, lend Golden your clippers," and I'm about to say okay, but
Golden says,  "Nah, fuck it. I'm done today. You two look okay. I'll catch you
in three or  four weeks." Robby shrugs looking at me, like 'Is this okay
with you?' I  go, 'Yah, we can go a few weeks more, Rob." Golden pats Rob's
back saying,  "My mother will send another set of clipper. My good ones. No
sweat." Rob nods,  muttering, "Yeah, okay," then he's slapping hands with a
couple of guys,  saying to a stocky guy, "See you tomorrow afternoon. We'll
look at film and  you'll see what I mean." Golden asks, "Yo, Dylan, can you
give me and a couple  of my friends a ride to the party?" I'm like, "Dude,
yeah. Text me when you're  ready to go." He says, "We'll be  doing some
pre-training so a little on the late side, okay?" I go, "Of course.  Text me."

There isn't a mirror anywhere in the room which is probably by  design, but my
head feels good with my hair still on it. I'm putting  my hood, then
zippering up my coat walking outside, with Robby saying, "I'm  glad you're going out
tonight, babe, and it's nice of you to give Golden and the  boys a ride to
the party." I'm like, "It's nice of you to let me use your  pickup," and he
goes, "What's mine is yours, you know that, Dylan."

Back in  the apartment Rob and I spend a good two hours reviewing for the
up-coming final  exams. I knew everything we reviewed before we reviewed it,
so I'm feeling  pretty fuckin' cocky about the finals. After that we watch a
college  football game lying together on the couch and it's making me
horny. After about  an hour I give him the 'look' and he says, "I'm really sorry,
baby, I love  you so much but I'm just not feeling it now. Are you mad at
me?"  I go, "Noooo, I understand, Rob. Jeez, I can go a couple of days
without having  sex. I'm not a sex fiend ya know." He kisses the side of my neck
saying, "We'll  do awesome reunion sex all day Sunday." I nod, and lie my
head back on  his shoulder thinking, 'Maybe I'll jerk off'.

A  little after five o'clock, I'm like, "Yo, Rob, how about my  famous
chili for  tonight's dinner. How's that sound? We'll have it with a salad, and
we have that  crusty French bread in the freezer that I can defrost." He
says, "You know what,  I'm not hungry now, but your chili takes  a couple of
hours to simmer, so yeah, that sounds good, babe. Thanks." I  like cooking and
since we're not going to be screwing it'll give me something to  do. Lots of
ingredients in a good chili, so  I get to it while Robby falls asleep on
the sofa. As I'm dicing onion, green  pepper, carrots, and celery I try
putting myself in Robby's shoes. How  would I feel about a girl having an abortion
after I'd gotten her pregnant?  It's very difficult to imagine because I
can't visualize myself  having sex with a girl. Not any more than  a guy like
Golden could visualize having sex with a guy. The brain is very
complicated, which is like calling the Grand Canyon a large hole. Rob's and  Frankie's
potential baby is presently a quarter-inch in size and...  No,  for
innumerable reasons it's too complex a circumstance and I can't put myself  in
Robby's shoes. Not in this situation. Instead of thinking about that, I think
about some hot sub/dom sex with a mystery man about my age who's not about to
take any shit from his submissive sex partner, who in my fantasy is moi.

After he's spanked my ass hard, he'll casually ask, 'What's your name  again,
pussy boy?' I'll say, 'It's Dylan Newman, sir'. Ha ha ha! Fat chance. Or,
more likely my sub/dom sex days are behind me forever... sigh.

We eat  around seven o'clock. The chili isn't  too hot and spicy this time.

Rob says it's perfect, but then that's what he said  about the
overly-seasoned chili I  made last time. As we're cleaning up the kitchen I ask if he's
sure he won't  come to the party with me, and he says, "I'm positive, Dylan,
but I hope it's a  good one for your sake. Have fun, get drunk enough for
both of us, but don't  crash the truck." Then he smiles and hugs me,
murmuring, "If you do  crash the truck, don't you get hurt doing it. Fuck the
truck!" I go, "Okay,  Rob, I'll even force some shots down thinking of you." He
snorts a laugh,  muttering, "Better you than me, babe. Hey, tomorrow I'll baby
you through your  hangover. I'll bring you cold drinks and give you a long
bath, pampering you  until you're feeling better." Now I snort out a laugh,
saying, "Yes, daddy,  take care of me." Actually that sounds nice.

Taking a  shower and now I don't even feel like going out; not without
Robby.  Yeah, but I promised the guys a ride to the party so I guess I'll have
to go. When I walk into the living room I see Robby's watching a movie  on
AMC, the cable channel that has, believe it not, more commercials than the
commercial networks. I'm dressed for warmth instead of worrying  about
looking party-ready-cool. That's because my heart's not really in a  party frame
of mind. Rob says, "You look good, Dylan. What time are you  leaving?" I go,
"Golden is supposed to text me when he and his boys are ready to  go." Robby
says, "Is our running mate, Daryl, going too?" Hmmm, I didn't  think of
him. I say, "I don't know. I'll text him."

Texting  Daryl about the party gets a text right back asking me to pick him
up.  Well, okay! We can crowd one more person in the pickup, and at  least
now I'll have my favorite sophomore buddy to hang out with at  the party,
and maybe we can even find some place to fuck... ha  ha. Yeah, I'm horny, but
with Daryl I'm the 'top'. What I really need is a  tough dominant guy to
take charge and spank, then fuck my ass hard. Damn  I'm up for something like
that! I know, it's certainly not for everyone,  but a walk on the wild-side
rocks my boat occasionally. Or something like  that. Fat chance I'll run into
anyone up to the task though. Or is tonight  my lucky night....

After a  while I get fidgety, checking my watch wondering what time Golden
will call. At  eight-thirty I tell Rob, "I'm going to pick-up Daryl and do
some pre-party  drinking at Tracy's. I'm tired of waiting for Golden's call."

Rob's like,  "You're still giving him a ride though, right?" I nod, "Of
course. He can text  me while I'm at Tracy's and I'll pick him and his boys up
and give 'em a ride to  the party. They're on their own getting back
though." Rob waves from his prone  position on the sofa, "Have fun, babe." I go,
"It won't be any fun without you.  I wish I never told those guys I'd give
them a ride." Robby holds his arms out,  so I go over for a hug and a kiss. Rob
says, "I love you. Be safe." Then I'm on  my way to...  whatever.

to be  continued....      Donny Mumford    thinat20@yahoo.com
donnymumford@outlook.com

========================================================


Hoping some readers may be interested, there are books of mine  published
and available on Amazon.com. Anyone who has Kindle can download them  for
next to nothing. The books are usually around ten dollars. They  are about a 19
year old gay boy (Oliver) who has a far different life than Dylan's. And
there is  a new book, 'Mike, his Bike and Me'. Please at least check them out
by  typing my name on Amazon.com. Information about the story in the books
can  be found in some detail there. Thank you.


Donny  Mumford

========================================================

Please consider a tax deductible donation of any size to
nonprofit Nifty to help with the expense of maintaining this ginormous
free story site. Thank you very much.

http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html