Date: Fri, 09 Jan 2004 22:17:14 -0500
From: Jeff Allen <jeff_allen15@hotmail.com>
Subject: "Love on the Court" Chapter 8

This is a fictional story dealing with love and consensual sexual
activities between males.  If you are not of legal age, reside in an area
where viewing such material is illegal, or are offended by homosexuality
and/or homosexual themes, leave this site now.

The author retains all rights to this story.  No reproductions or links to
other sites are allowed without the permission of the author.

Note: I owe a special thanks to Robb for doing the final proofreading and
catching all those silly little errors that I missed.

LOVE ON THE COURT


CHAPTER 8

JOE'S PERSPECTIVE:

So Witt and I became roommates.  I'd assumed the deal wasn't going to be
official until the end of the spring term, but Witt moved most of his stuff
over to the house within the week and started paying rent.  I tried to
argue with him that he didn't need to pay rent yet, but he insisted, and in
the end I accepted because the extra money really helped my monthly budget.
He used Grandpa's room while I stayed in mine.

My recovery on the basketball court took a while.  When we resumed
practices in January, I was still so wiped out from the flu that I couldn't
keep up with the rest of the guys.  By the end of January my strength and
endurance were back to pre- flu levels, and we were winning games like
crazy.  We finished second in our league for the season and finished second
in the tournament as well.  We all knew we would be the power to beat next
season.

Having Witt in the house most of the time made it a lot easier to study
together for our classes.  He and I knocked the tops off the scores on the
exams as well as on the court.

As a roommate Witt was a pretty relaxed guy.  I knew he slept naked, I'd
found that out rooming with him on the team's travels.  He also liked to
hang around the house in just his boxer shorts.  My grandmother had
insisted on grandpa and me being completely clothed any time we were out of
the bathroom or bedroom.  Grandpa and I had kept that up out of habit after
she died, so having his sexy brown body on display all of the time took
some getting used to.  Don't get me wrong.  I liked looking at Witt's body.
The problem was that sometimes I'd get hard, and I was afraid he'd notice
so most of the time I kept my jeans on but would go shirtless.  Even that
had it's perils as Witt would grab at my pecs and tweek my nipples if he
was in a playful mood.  I started doing the same thing to him for payback,
and of course it gave me a chance to touch his body.  Often we ended up
wrestling around on the floor.  Sometimes I'd start to get hard and have to
call off the match so he wouldn't know I had an erection.  A couple of
times, I thought I felt a little more fullness in his boxers, but I
dismissed that as just a natural reaction to the exercise.

After the season was over, we had Antwon and Jean-Marc over to the house
for dinner and wine.  We had a great time with them, but we also had too
much wine.  There was no way for them to drive back to campus.  Witt
suggested that they sleep in his bed and he would bunk in with me that
night.  Naturally they accepted his offer.

After we all went to bed I stayed awake for a long time thinking of what
Jean- Marc and Antwon might be doing in the next room and wishing Witt and
I were doing the same thing.  I woke up in the middle of the night and felt
Witt pressed up against me.  I was hard as a rock instantly.  Fortunately,
I was facing away from him so he couldn't tell how excited I was.  I lay
there enjoying the feeling of our two bodies touching until I went back to
sleep.  When I woke up in the morning, Witt was on the other side of the
bed.

I continued my visits to Father Mac.  He helped me feel more comfortable
with the fact that I was gay.  Some times I wondered if maybe he was gay,
but I never asked.  Maybe I really didn't want to know.  Jean-Marc told me
that he had talked with Father Mac and had told him that he and Antwon were
lovers.  Antwon had been raised in a black Baptist church and was having
some trouble understanding Jean-Marc's Catholicism so Antwon started
meeting with Father Mac on occasion to learn and ask questions about the
Catholic faith.

I had planned on working construction again over the summer.  However,
Coach Melton asked Witt, Antwon, Jean-Marc, and me to work the basketball
camps that the college would be running during the summer.  There would be
four sessions of two weeks each.  The pay was almost the same as I'd make
on the construction job, and it sounded like a lot more fun.  We would only
have to be on campus and working with the kids from nine to five on
weekdays.  Weekends and evenings were free.  Needless to say, we all jumped
at the chance.  Antwon and Jean-Marc found an apartment near campus, and
moved in right after finals in the spring.

Each two-week session of camp was set for a particular age group.  The
first session was for nine and ten year olds, the second for boys eleven
and twelve, the third for those thirteen and fourteen, and the fourth was
for guys in senior high school.  I'd often had kids from the neighborhood
shooting baskets in the driveway with me so I had some idea of what the
different age groups could do.  Even as limited as my experience was, I was
far more prepared than Witt, Antwon, and Jean-Marc.  They had a real shock
at first working with the younger kids, but by the end of the session we
had all adjusted our expectations to the ability level of the campers.

The summer settled in to a really nice routine.  Most days when the campers
disappeared back to the dorms at five, the four of us would stay in the gym
and shoot baskets or play two-on-two ball.  After an hour or so of hoops,
we would take nice long showers.  We had the entire locker room to
ourselves.  I secretly enjoyed those showers as it gave me a chance to be
naked with three really hot guys.  Fortunately my dick behaved for the most
part, and I only had one or two semi erections in the showers.  Jean-Marc
and Antwon seemed to have their passion for one another under control.  I
never saw them do any thing that would cause suspicion about their
sexuality or their relationship with one another.  To the rest of the
world, they seemed like good straight friends.  The four of us ate dinner
together about half the time.  The rest of the time I would fix something
for Witt and me at the house.  Before he died, grandpa had done most of the
cooking at our house.  My cooking abilities expanded out of necessity, and
I was actually proud that I had very few failures.  After dinner Witt and I
would either shoot some more hoops in the driveway, often with a gaggle of
neighborhood kids, or just kick back, listen to music, or watch a movie on
TV.  I think that was the most enjoyable summer of my whole life.  I was
having fun working with the kids in the camp; I was able to work with good
friends, and I was living with Witt, the man I adored (albeit chastely).

Reggie Winters, from the neighborhood, was over shooting hoops with us a
lot.  He was seventeen and would be starting his senior year in high school
in the fall.  I was amazed at how much his playing had improved in a year.
He had also matured a lot physically.  The year before, he had been all
arms and legs with a mop of light brown hair.  His body was starting to
fill out.  He now stood about six feet five inches.  His arms and legs were
still long, but now he knew what to do with those long limbs.  Witt and I
discussed it and agreed that he was going to be a really good player.  We
talked to Coach Melton, and he ended up recruiting Reggie for the last
session of the basketball camp and helped find some money to pay for his
fees.

Antwon and Jean-Marc invited Witt and me to come over to their apartment
for dinner on the Saturday in between the two weeks of the last session of
basketball camp.  They said they'd wanted to have us over, and this would
be the last chance before the college started in the fall because the two
of them were leaving town to visit with Jean-Marc's family as soon as the
camp was done.

The evening was going to be casual so we both dressed in tee shirts, cargo
shorts, and sandals.  Witt drove us over in his Jeep.

On the way over he casually remarked, "Antwon and Jean-Marc seem to have
become really good friends.  I can't imagine how Antwon is going to fit in
with Jean-Marc's family?"

I had wondered the same thing because I suspected they were going to come
out to the LaPonts and tell them about their relationship.  However, I
wasn't sure what Witt had meant by his remark.  "What do you mean?"

"Well, Jean-Marc's told me that his family speaks French at home, and I
know Antown doesn't know a word of French."

I thought, 'The language problem will be the least of their worries.'  I
said, "I'm sure Jean-Marc's family can speak English also.  Jean-Marc
hardly has any accent."

"I'll be interested to find out from Antwon how things go."

I thought, 'So will I.'

Jean-Marc was the cook that night, and I think he was trying to impress us.
The smells coming from the small kitchen made my mouth water as soon as we
stepped in the door.

Antwon served us some wine in the living area.  I'd had a big glass of
water just before leaving home so the wine hit my kidneys and passed right
on through.  As Antwon was pouring the second glass for every one, I
excused myself to use the bathroom.  It was in a short hallway that also
led to the two bedrooms.
 There was a big water bed in the right hand bedroom while the left hand
room was obviously used for study and not sleeping because there were two
desks and no bed in the room.  After peeing and washing my hands in the
bathroom, I quietly closed the door to the non-bedroom bedroom as I went
back into the living room.  I knew if Witt saw the room he would realize
that Antwon and Jean-Marc were sleeping in the same bed.

Antwon was excited about his upcoming visit to Canada.  He'd never been out
of the country, and he was looking forward to it.  At one point in the
conversation Jean-Marc got up and brought out a couple of pictures of his
home and family from the study room.

We were on our third glass of wine and getting a little tipsy when
Jean-Marc finally put dinner on the table.  Antwon and Jean-Marc joined
hands for a blessing holding their hands out for Witt and me to join.  We
held hands as Jean-Marc gave a simple blessing for the food and the friends
at the table.  We had always held hands during the blessing while I was
growing up, but I had gotten out of the habit of returning thanks after
grandpa's death.  I resolved to start again.  I admit my motives weren't
completely pure.  Holding Witt's hand, even for a few moments once a day,
was something I would be very thankful for.

The meal that night was a rich beef burgundy served over noodles with
homemade bread, a tasty salad, and a hearty red wine.  It was delicious!
After dinner Witt excused himself and headed to the bathroom.  From where I
was sitting at the table I could see into the hallway, but Antwon and
Jean-Marc could not.  Just as he came to the door of the bathroom, I saw
Witt take a glance to his left and then his right.  He stopped and took a
step to his right toward the study room.  I knew right then what had
happened.  I had closed the door into the study room, but Jean-Marc had
opened it again when he retrieved the photos, and by doing that he had just
effectively outed both himself and Antwon to Witt.

I should have said something to warn them, but I was frozen.  If I said
anything, it might ruin the evening.  Of course Witt might say something
when he came back to the table, and that would ruin the evening also.  I
was still debating what to do when Witt rejoined us.  He didn't say
anything, but I noticed him watching Antwon and Jean-Marc the rest of the
evening.  I couldn't read his expression.

'Well,' I thought, 'I'm sure I'll hear about this later.  At least he
didn't come out and make a big scene.  I've never heard him say any thing
bad about gays like some of the other guys on the team so maybe he doesn't
have a problem with it.'

        ########################################

WITT'S PERSPECTIVE:

Jean-Marc had cooked us all a really great dinner over at his and Antwon's
apartment.  We all held hands as Jean-Marc returned thanks for the food.  I
decided I might try to institute that custom when Joe and I ate over at his
house.  It would give me an excuse to be able to hold his hand without
raising his suspicions.

We had a little too much wine before dinner so I was still feeling a little
buzz when we finished.  My bladder signaled that it was time to check out
the plumbing so I excused myself from the table and headed down the hallway
to the bathroom.  It was just a natural thing to glance into the two
bedrooms on my way to the john.  I looked to the room on the left first.
There was a nice big double or queen sized bed in there.  It looked like a
water bed.  I thought I'd like to try one of those some time.  What I
saw...or didn't see...in the room on the right stopped me in my tracks.
There wasn't a bed!  There were two desks with chairs, a computer stand,
and some bookcases, but no bed.  That meant that Jean-Marc and Antwon both
slept in the water bed.  Were they gay?  Was it possible?  Could it be that
there were more gays on the team than just me?

Then it hit me.  Joe had used the bathroom earlier in the evening.  He had
to have seen what was in the two rooms.  He was one of the most observant
human beings I'd ever known.  I couldn't believe he hadn't said anything.
Did he miss it?  Maybe he wasn't bothered by gays.  I couldn't remember him
ever telling a joke that was dismissive of gays or making any disparaging
remarks about gays.  Did that mean he knew about Antwon and Jean-Marc?  Did
that mean he was gay too?

The thought that Joe might be gay both excited and terrified me.  If he was
gay, then maybe I had a chance with him.  On the other hand, if he was gay,
he hadn't given any sign of wanting me.  Maybe I wasn't his type.  Maybe I
didn't turn him on.  Maybe I'd better not rock the boat.  Maybe things were
pretty good just the way they were.

I watched Antwon and Jean-Marc for the rest of the evening tying to find
some sign that they were a couple.  I didn't see it until we were at the
door saying good- bye.  Antwon and Jean-Marc stood side by side.  And I do
mean side by side.  Their shoulders were touching one another.  Then I
realized that they always stood close together like that.  I also realized
that they didn't stand that close to any one else.  'Gotcha!'  I knew they
were a couple.

Joe and I didn't talk on the way home.  When we got home I suggested that
we have another glass of wine as a nightcap.  He agreed.

I poured each of us a glass of Cabernet which we took out to the back porch
to enjoy the cooler evening breeze.

"Joe, do you think Antwon and Jean-Marc are a couple?"

There was a wary expression on his face as he answered, "What makes you
think that?"

"There's only one bed in that apartment.  The second bedroom has desks and
shit like that.  Didn't you see that when you went to the bathroom?"

"Yes.  I saw it."

I was trying to read his eyes, but there wasn't enough light on the porch.

"So do you think they're gay?"

"That's something you'll have to ask them."

"You'd be okay with it, if they were gay?"

"Of course.  That wouldn't change anything.  They're both great guys, good
ball players, and good friends.  Would it make a difference to you if they
were gay?"

"No.  You're right, it doesn't change the kind of people they are.  It just
surprised me.  They don't act gay."

"You're using stereotypes, Sadler.  When you and I go out some place, you
usually pick up the tab because we're friends and you've got more money
than me.  But the waiter or waitress usually gives the check to me.  Why?"

"Because they assume you'll be paying."

"Why?"

"Because they assume you have more money than me."

"Why?"

"Because they assume that a black man doesn't have as much money as a white
man."

"Got it.  Stereotyping.  I'm heading to bed.  See you in the morning."

"'Night, Joe.  In the morning."

I sat on the porch for quite a while after he went inside.  I played our
conversation over and over.  He hadn't given me any answers.  Or had he?

(To be continued)