Date: Mon, 22 Oct 2012 12:18:18 -0700 (PDT)
From: Ben Ezra Jacobson <ben_ezra_jacobson@yahoo.com>
Subject: Chapter 4 of THE THUNDER STORM by Ben Ezra Jacobson

The story is true...but I changed the names of some of the participants to
protect their identity and preserve their privacy.  Any comments are
welcome.  It would be good to hear from some of the readers as I have
another memory of my early days as a scouter that I would also like to
share at a later date.

			     THE THUNDER STORM
			   BY: Ben Ezra Jacobson

				 Chapter 4

     I had asked Jean how it was that I had seen him in the window twice
before he had moved into the condo across the court yard.  He had leased
the unit rather than buying it...because he was planning on only attending
the university... long enough to finish his degree.  The builder had given
him a key early on and he had spent a couple of nights there with a
sleeping bag.  He had no other place to stay while he was in the process of
getting his papers in order for the university.  Our meeting was the
strangest of flukes..but one of which I was very thankful.

		  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

     It is amazing how fast a night can pass when one is locked in a loving
embrace with another human being.  I felt an excitement that had evaded me
since I was a teenager.  Despite a twenty year difference in our ages, Jean
and I shared emotions that were long lost to me and after bidding him a
great morning and an affectionate Au Revoir...he departed for home...and I
jumped into the shower hoping the hot water would bring me back down to
earth.

		   . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

     The snow had let up enough for the grounds crew to once again clear
the sidewalks and open the drive from the carports where the condo owners
cars were all parked.  It was Saturday...and there were four days until
Christmas.  I needed to pick up a few things from the store, mail some
letters and cards and make a few last minute purchase for Christmas.  I had
sent Jacob and Levi, each a generous check for Christmas and suggested that
they use it for anything they wanted.  Also, there were a few colleagues
that I sent some gifts to and some secretaries at the University that would
have floral arrangements delivered on Monday which was Christmas Eve day.
Jean said that he was staying in town for Christmas.  When I asked him to
spend some more time with me during the holidays he had replied that he had
no plans and would be happy to spend as much time with me as I wanted.  I
felt like a kid who had just been given a key to a toy store.
 My toy was going to spend Christmas with me.

     I grabbed a sandwich at the Campus Eatery.  The restaurant staff was
working today but customers were locals.  I did not see any students.  Just
as my sandwich and coke arrived...the bell over the door gave a distinct
ring as Jean came through.  He had a back pack over his shoulder...and
seeing me at the counter...sitting on a stool, came over an sat down next
to me.

     "Aaaahhh, Dr. Jacobson, how good eet ees to see you," he
spoke...looking around to see if anyone was paying attention.  No one
showed any interest in us as he leaned closer and whispered, "Bon Jour, mon
amis...I have something for you."

     Reaching into his back pack, he pulled out a small package wrapped in
gold paper with a gold ribbon.  "Theese ees for you, mon amis."
     I looked at him with a bit of amazement on my face.

     "Jean...I do not know what to say...I never expected..."

     "Of course not, Been.  You are not zee type who expects anything from
friends for your friendship.  Eet ees something from me to you...as a
friend and a neighbor.  Please...open eet."

      I slowly removed the ribbon and then the paper.  Inside was a oval
picture frame with some flowers sculpted into the framework.  With in the
frame was a color picture of Jean in a white turtleneck sweater.  Black
hair, dark eyes, a big smile showing very white teeth...and a white
turtleneck sweater.

     "Jean...this is fantastic.  But shouldn't you be sending this home to
your mother," I asked.

     "She ees gone Been.  She and my father are both gone.  I have only one
grand-pere back home...and he ees very old.  When I went to see him
last...he did not know me.  So I decided to give theese picture to you.  I
hope you will accept it with my gratitude for you kindness and affection
last night."

     Had we been someplace other than the Campus Eatery...I would not have
been able to keep my hands off of him.  He grinned widely and I winked as I
nodded my consent to keep the photo.

     " I will place it on the bed stand so I can see it every time I enter
my room."

     Jean ordered a burger and coke.  When it was time to leave, he scooped
up some of my packages and helped me to my car.  We drove back to the condo
together.  Once all my affects were deposited onto the dinning room
table...I took a hold of Jean's arm which got his undivided attention...and
planted a kiss on his lips.  We embraced with our heads on one another's
shoulders and stood there for a long minute...too content to break.

    "I must go to zee house for a bit, Been.  Shall I return later theese
evening?" He said.

     "Yes...come back over...as soon as you can."

     I was going to cook this evening...and there was no one with whom I
would rather share dinner than my new friend.  Last night it was cold Pizza
and Cokes.  Tonight it was going to be a roast or maybe some grilled
steaks.  Regardless...I wanted the evening to be a big success and the
night even better.

     The snow continued to fall in copious amounts and the patio where my
gas grill sat was inundated with a huge snow drift.  I prepared the roast
which was my original plan and set the time on the oven.  During the
afternoon, I prepared salad, and the accompanying dishes for dinner this
even.  Christmas was yet three days away...but tonight we were going to
continue to celebrate a new found friendship.

     Jean reappeared at my door around 4:00PM.  He was dressed casually in
brown cord jeans and the same white turtleneck sweater that he had worn for
his photo which he had given me.  He always smelled so good.  It seems that
European men have a way with masculine smelling soaps and colognes.  One
would have known he had just entered the room by his scent...even if his
presence had not been detected.

     "Allow Been", he said, and gave me a great embrace.  I could have held
him there for an indefinite amount of time.  "Your deenner smells divine.
It reminds me of home when my mother was still weeth me."

     I patted his shoulder.  "We are going to have a roast with the
trimmings.  I even have genuine imitation croissant rolls."

     "My favorite." he said with a big grin.

     I suspect anything that I had fixed would have been his favorite for
the evening.  The wood delivery man had replenished my fire box and I had
lit the fireplace again shortly before Jean had arrived.  Now the fire was
blazing away.  The room was cozy and it counter acted the cold around the
window panes and the increasing snow on the patio.

     "I might have to remove my sweater if eet gets too warm in here," he
said smiling, as he pulled the sweater up to show that there was only bare
skin underneath.  "You would not object...no?"

     His remark made me laugh.  " I would not mind," I said.  "Do you have
bare skin as well under your cords?"

     "But of course...how is it you say in America...I am going
`commando'."

     I walked over to him and ran my hand across his midriff and down to
his belt line.  He inhaled deeply making room for my hand to slid beneath
his belt...and true to form for a Frenchman...there was only bare skin
beneath his cords.  How delightful.
     As much as I would like to have had him step out of his
clothing...common sense urged me to wait.  The prospects of another sensual
evening were increasing by leaps and bounds.  It would be foolish to let
impatience rob either of us of greater intensity later in the evening.  I
tweaked his endowment and patted the twins beneath it...and pulled my hand
out of his jeans.  He understood...and did not interfere with my
withdrawal.  I reached up and kissed him on the side of his face...feeling
the light stubble of a shaven five o'clock shadow.  He returned the gesture
planting a kiss on my lips and holding it there.  I parted my lips and felt
his tongue enter my mouth and probe.  He tasted like light mint...clean and
exciting.  We held the embrace...and I pushed back with my tongue moving it
around his mouth and across his lips before pulling out.  He sighed.

     " You do zat very well for an American," and he laughed.  "French men
are very uninhibited..but American men are usually not so much."

     "Have you had a lot of experience kissing American men?" I asked
quizzically.

     "But of course...but usually...I keese them in France."  He chuckled.

     "Jean...have you also kissed French women?"

     "Yes...but zee men are almost always better keesers.  Zey know what
zey like and what feels good.  Eet is like what you say here...eef you want
a good blow job...you must ask another man to help you out.  Zee
women...like to do eet...but zey are not as good as another man.  Zee man
knows what feels good and so he ees able to do eet to another man with more
intensity."

     I laughed, " that is very true.  I had forgotten that until last
night."

     Jean again pulled me to him for a quick kiss and then allowed me to
return to our supper in the kitchen.  We ate at the table in the dinning
room so we could feel the heat from the fireplace and turned on the
television for a weather update.  Jean told me more about his years in
France and the loss of his parents and then his grandparents.  I told him
about my family and the work I did at the university.  Our dialog lasted
until the second round of news at 10PM.

     I suggested that we adjourn to the bedroom to be more comfortable.
Jean was more than willing...and followed me into the room.

     "You will spend the night Jean?" I asked.

     "Of course...Mon Amis," he replied..."I have my toothbrush in my back
pack."

     I reached over and turned out the light.