Date: Tue, 9 Sep 2003 04:50:55 -0700 (PDT)
From: Michael Garrison <mng1114@yahoo.com>
Subject: Two Lives - Two Loves: Chapter 10

This story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to actual
events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.  This story also deals with love and
consensual sexual activities between men.  If you are not of
legal age, reside in an area where viewing such material is
illegal, or are offended by such themes, do not read further
and leave this site now.

The author retains all rights to this story.  Reproductions
or links to other sites are not allowed without the
permission of the author.


Two Lives - Two Loves


Chapter 10


"Wait here...I'll be right back."  Jon said, jumping from the
bed, throwing on his robe and heading quickly downstairs.

Since he was the only one who knew where the stuff was, I
figured I might as well just relax and sank back down into
the cool pillows, interlacing my fingers behind my head.  I
listened to the faint sounds of his rummaging around
downstairs as a smile began to take over my face.  Even the
sound of him rooting around down there was getting me hot.
It had to be love.  Then I heard a small crash.

"Ow! Shit!" I heard Jon shout quietly.  Whatever it was
must've hurt to make Jon curse...he normally didn't do that.

"You okay?" I called out.

"Yeah," he called back, his voice echoing slightly in the
hall.  "Just slammed my toe into something's all."

I was going to make a smart remark about but thought the
better of it and held back.  A few minutes later, Jon came
back through the door, limping slightly from where he'd hit
his toe, carrying his uncle's digital camcorder and a
tripod.

"You sure you're okay," I asked, noticing the way he was
favoring his left foot.

"Yeah, it'll be all right," he said as he began setting it
all up.  "...caught my toe on the credenza."

I watched with faint amusement as he set up the tripod and
screwed the camcorder down to it, then connected the power
cord.  Fortunately, Jon mentioned as he peered through the
viewfinder, the afternoon light was good enough even with
the rain that we didn't need any other light except the lamp
on the bed table.

"Say 'cheese'," he said as he squinted in the viewfinder and
fiddled with the buttons.

"I got yer cheese right here," I smirked with a laugh as I
flipped him off.

"Now, now, now," Jon said. "Be nice."

Jon knew how to test my patience and mine was starting to
wear a little thin as he kept fiddly-farting around with the
camera.  My impatience was starting to show.

"Will you quit fucking around with that thing already!" I
said, pursing my lips.  "Get back in this bed now, young
man...," I could see him beginning to laugh at my mock
parental admonishment.  "...before I have to pick you up and
throw you in it!"

"I'm done, I'm done," he said, laughing.  "Chill."

I saw the little red light on the camera and watched as Jon
stripped off his robe and climbed slowly back into bed
between my legs and up until our faces met, staring at each
other in the afternoon light.

I can't tell you how weird it feels to make love in front of
a running camera but when I looked into Jon's eyes and felt
his lips against mine I forgot all about everything except
us.  He tasted especially good at that moment.  We were
getting very used to each other and he was becoming more at
ease with himself.  He now let his hands play more naturally
over me, slowly, but without the tentative hesitance he'd
had before.  I loved this.  I loved the feel of his tongue,
his lips.  I loved the sound of the breathing through our
noses as we shared each other's breath.  I loved the feel of
him under my touch.

Jon stopped for a moment, reaching into the drawer of the
nightstand and snagging a condom.  I smiled and watched as
he sat back on his heels and ripped it open, tossing the
empty package onto the floor.  My erection was already like
steel but the feel of him slowly rolling the latex sheathing
tightly down over me added a fiery, pulsing tempering that
was almost too much for me to take.  He applied a generous
amount of lube to himself, spreading the excess at my shaved
base, then got slowly into position.

He smiled as he reached behind and took he in hand, guiding
me.  Our bright-eyed smiles slowly faded into the open-
mouthed awe of closed eyes.  And I caught the faintest hint
of some kind of citrus in the air.

                         *  *  *  *

We'd catnapped briefly afterwards.  Not long, maybe fifteen
minutes or so.  God, I needed it, though.  That nightmare
had left me feeling drained and Jon...well, Jon had drained me
pretty well, too.  It was starting to get late in the
afternoon and we were both getting hungry but we both needed
showers.  We both had that locker room feel of dried sweat
that felt almost crusty.  We laughed a little as Jon pulled
away from me, his flesh kind of sticking to mine, making a
slight sound like when you peel tape off of something.  He
switched off the video camera and returned to the bed for a
quick kiss before heading into the bathroom.

I followed shortly behind him, lovingly watching his muscles
move under his skin as he adjusted the shower...not too hot...not
too cold...my little Goldilocks.  When everything was just
right, he turned and smiled at me.

"Coming?" he asked, winking.

"Soon, I hope," I replied with a crooked smile.

The hunger from our growling stomachs, however, was shouting
at us louder than the hunger from our crotches.  This was
just quick-shower time.  Soap.  Rinse.  In.  Out.  We did
take turns drying each other off, though, and I lingered
over Jon's lats and butt maybe just a little bit longer than
was absolutely necessary.  He didn't seem to mind; I caught
him smiling in the mirror.

"You keep doing that and we'll never get dinner made," he
said.

"Yeah, well...," I whispered as I playfully, lightly sank my
teeth into his neck.

"OooooooooooooowwwwwwwwWWWWW," Jon moaned as he wrapped his
arm around my head, gently pulling me tighter into his neck.
I reached around and could feel him becoming aroused again.
I stroked him lightly and was a little surprised when he
turned, smiling, and softly pushed me away.  "STOP it,
dude," he pleaded.  "I'm hungry!  Save your energy for
dessert," he grinned.

He was right.  I was starving and we laughed at each other's
growling stomachs.  We threw on some shorts and tees and
headed down to the kitchen.

We fished us out a couple of beers and I studied the weather
while Jon started browsing the refrigerator.

"Hmm," I muttered.  "Looks like it might be letting up a
little."

"'Bout time," Jon said.  "Whadda ya feel like for dinner?
Anything in particular?"

"How 'bout some blond beef?  Extra rare," I quipped.

"Oh, somebody's got a one-track mind today," he said,
squinting at me, drumming his fingers on the countertop.
"How about some grilled pork chops instead?"

"No blond beef?" I asked whimsically.

"You just had that for lunch," Jon quipped back, winking.
"You need some variety in your diet."  It was pretty plain
that Playful Jon must still be upstairs.  Serious Jon was
manning the kitchen at the moment.  Moody.

"Okay, fine," I gave in.  "Grilled pork chops, then.  You're
gonna grill when it's still raining?"

"We'll drag the grill under the awning.  In fact, let's get
that out of the way now."

We dragged the barbecue under the awning and I got the
propane fired up while Jon started getting everything ready
inside.  When I ducked back inside, I saw that Jon had
strapped on his new toy from the dive shop.  He was trying
very hard to contain a smile, glancing at me out of the
corner of his eye, seeing if I would notice the small
samurai sword he'd strapped to his leg.

"Whoa!" I cried in mockingly mock amazement, stretching my
arm out and clutching my chest.  "Look out,
everyone...DangerGuy's in the house!  Back off, people...," I
said, continuing my comical tirade as Jon's veneer began to
crack into outright laughter.  "...don't get in DangerGuy's
way!..."

"Dude, shut the hell up!" Jon cried in between gales of his
own laughter.

"...He's on an important mission, I'll bet!"  Neither of us
could take it and we both broke down laughing from the sheer
stupidity of my little rant.  It took a few moments for us
to get our breath back.  "Man, what're you wearing that
for?" I asked, still chuckling a little, "You expecting
trouble?"

Jon shrugged his shoulders and smiled, "I couldn't resist
it," he said in an almost child like voice.  "I wanted to
see how it felt."

"So how's it feel?" I asked.

"Interesting...different," he said.  "I'm not used to having
something strapped to my leg.  How's it look?"

"Fine," I said as I studied him, taking in the entire
picture.  "Actually," I began.

"Yeah?"

"...if you want my honest opinion..."

"Always."

"...In a strange way, it's pretty cool!" I said, nodding with
approval.  "It gives you...I dunno...," I paused, tapping my
chin, "...a dangerously hot kind of look."

"Oooo, Cool!" Jon said animatedly.  "Put yours on; let's see
what it does for you!"

I couldn't resist the temptation, either.  Taking another
gulp of beer, I told Jon to get the food on the grill and
that I'd be right back.  I sprinted between the raindrops
out to the carriage house where I'd left my dive bag and
almost bounced off the side door as I grabbed for the knob
at near full speed.

"Dammit...locked," I thought to myself as the rain quickly
began soaking my tee shirt.  I turned to start back toward
the house and I heard the unmistakable sound of the leaves
of rusty hinges squealing against one another.  Squinting,
trying to keep the now increasing rain from out of my eyes,
I looked to see the door ajar now, the wind pushing at it,
making it slowly creak back and forth.  For a few moments, I
just stood looking at the door, wondering what to do, a
quick chill running the length of my spine.

"Sweet Jesus," I thought, "...get a grip!  ...probably just
stuck, that's all!"

I chastised myself for being a fucking wuss as I pushed open
the door and felt around for the light switch.  I found it a
couple of feet from the door and flicked it up and down a
few times.nothing.  Burned out.  Have to put that on the
list of things to do around the house.  Fortunately, there
was enough light coming in through the windows in the garage
doors for me to dimly find my way around.  I groped around
for my bag and finally found it lying in the far corner.  As
I unzipped it, though, I felt that subtle change in the
atmosphere, giving me that tingling feeling that I was not
alone.

Still kneeling over my bag, I stopped fishing around in it
and slowly looked around.  Nothing.  I twisted slowly around
and glanced over my shoulder.  Nothing.  I even knelt down
and looked under the cars.  Still nothing.  And still that
feeling hung in the air like the smell of burnt toast...that
feeling of being watched.

"Williams, get hold of yourself, would you please?!" I
exclaimed to myself again as I tried to shrug off the
feeling, my own voice providing little comfort.

I went back to fishing around in my bag and finally found my
dive knife.  It was an older, more traditional type, not the
techno-sword like Jon bought, but it was impressive
nevertheless, I thought.  I strapped it to the side of my
calf and stood up...maybe a little too quickly, though,
judging by the head rush I got.  Stars...dizzy...a little
wobbly.  I leaned against the Land Rover for a second for
support.

Then I heard it.

Unmistakable.

Clear.

Distinct.

"Listen...," a whispered voice pleaded, trailing off.

I started and gasped in surprise.  This was not my friendly
neighborhood helper voice; this was something else.  I
quickly looked around again, thinking Jon might have snuck
out to play a trick on me, but, again, I was completely
alone.  The voice came not so much from one ear or the
other, so I couldn't really judge direction.  It was like I
heard it right in the back of my head.

"Who are you?" I called out, exasperated.  Nothing.  I don't
know why, maybe it was pure instinct, but I started to reach
down for the knife strapped to my leg and then stopped,
thinking the better of it.

"Yeah, right, Williams," I thought.  "Fat lotta fucking good
that's gonna do."

Instead, I took a deep breath and tried to clear my mind,
which was more than a notion right at that moment, because,
in all honesty, just because I'm tall doesn't mean I'm not
jittery.  A lot of people have this notion that tall people
aren't rattled by anything, equating height with courage.
Well, I'm here to tell you that that ain't necessarily true,
at least in my case.  I knew guys a heck of a lot shorter
than I was that I wouldn't want to screw around with.
Needless to say, it was taking the summoning of a lot of
nerve for me to stand there and attempt to communicate with
God only knew what.

I stood there for a few moments...eyes closed...deep, regular
breaths...quiet...rain on the roof...then thinking..."Who are
you?"..."What do you want?"

"Listen to...," came the plaintive plea again.  Clear and
distinct, same as before, but trailing off to inaudibility.
I opened my eyes, still a little surprised by the clarity of
the voice but now more interested than frightened, and a
picture began to form in my mind.  Well, not in my mind
really, it was more like it was right before my eyes but not
right before my eyes.  It was like seeing without seeing.  I
know that doesn't make a bit of sense but that's the only
way I know to describe it.

My mental picture was of the man from the Study.  I saw his
mouth move and I finally heard and saw that the mournful
plea was coming from him.  "Please listen to...," his voice
trailed off as his image faded away.  Once again there was
only me and the garage.  I shook my head.  I was starting to
get a headache again and I still felt wobbly.

"Okay...that's enough fun and games for one afternoon," I
thought.  I opened the side door of the carriage house and
nearly crawled out of my skin when I looked at the house.
Its dark visage was back. Ominous, foreboding...every window
opened wide...every curtain streaming outwards in a strangely
cold and gusting wind.  And Jon was gone.  That nearly set
me on the edge of terror.  My heart started pounding.  I was
not asleep and I was not dreaming, but the vision was back
and my favorite person in the entire universe, my anchor, my
gravity, had been snatched away and replaced with this
sepulchral image.

This was not happening.  This was not happening and that's
all there was to it.  But here it was; a waking vision.
More than what, I think, they call a lucid dream.  This was
walking through a door, wide awake, mind you, that I didn't
know existed.  No, I take that back.  It was more like the
door came out and swallowed me whole without my realizing
it.  It was like when Dorothy opens the door on the
Technicolor world and proclaims that she must not be in
Kansas anymore.  I, too, was definitely not in Kansas
anymore, but this was definitely not widescreen, full-color,
munchkin-fucking-land!  The only thing missing to complete
this picture was the Crypt Keeper.

I checked myself out.  No robes, just shorts, a tee and my
Nike's.  Very odd.  I reached behind me to pat the side of
the Land Rover and heard the sound of my hand patting
against metal.  "At least it's still here," I thought as I
turned, beginning to think that I was really just imagining
things...maybe it was that head rush I got when I stood
up...that's it... maybe it was worse than I thought...maybe the
Land Rover... was actually a 1929 Packard sedan!

"Oh, fuck!" I said aloud.  I don't know why but I headed for
the door and slammed it behind me, sprinting for the house
through the pouring rain.  I reached one of the French doors
and slammed my palm against it so hard that I was lucky it
didn't go through the glass.  My chest heaving, my heart
pounding, I stopped in the middle of the Wicker Room and
shouted his name at the top of my lungs.

"JOOOOOOOOOOON!"

No reply.  Only the sound of the rain...that relentlessly
pounding, mind numbing rain.

"JOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON!" I screamed louder.

No answer.

I ran through the Foyer to the Parlor to the Study.  Empty.
Not a soul in sight.  At least that fucking telephone wasn't
ringing this time.  I sprinted back out into the Foyer and
yelled again.

"JOOOOOOOOOOON!"

Still no reply.  Then I felt that subtle wave of energy
pulling me, drawing me towards the stairs.  Maybe that's it;
maybe Jon's upstairs, although I wasn't holding out much
hope.  Not waiting for the energy to pull me up the stairs,
I bounded up them three steps at a time.

"Pleasebethere, pleasebethere, pleasebethere," I chanted to
myself as I landed on the second floor landing, grabbing the
mahogany rail for leverage as I swung my weight around to
race down the hall to our bedroom.

"JOOON!" I shouted again as I loped down the hall, trying to
avoid knocking over the antiques.  Antiques.  There's a
laugh; this stuff is all contemporary, now!

I started to call out his name again as I hit our bedroom
doorway.  'Hit' would be a very apropos word at that moment.
It was as though I'd run dead into a solid mass of...I don't
know...nothingness, I guess would be the best way to describe
it.

"JOOO...!" I started to call out again as the breath just left
my body and I fell to my knees as they gave out on me.

                         *  *  *  *

"....OOOON!" I shouted, waking myself, gasping for air as I
shoved myself up in bed on my palms, drenched in sweat.  And
there was Jon, sitting there on my butt but his hands drawn
back in surrender, a frightened, wide-eyed look on his face.

"Oooohhhh, man," I whispered shallowly as I allowed myself
to fall back into the damp sheets.

"Dude!" Jon started; I could definitely feel his tension,
could almost taste it.  "What's wrong, man?  You're sweating
like a horse!  Was I massaging too hard?"

This felt familiar.

"Oooohhhh, man," I whispered shallowly, again.  "No, you
didn't do anything," I said, reassuringly as I rubbed his
thigh.  "What happened?" I asked.

My head ached like it was going to split.

"I dunno," Jon said, that little note of empathic concern
still in his voice.  "I was just massaging your back and
then you kind of nodded off," he began.  "I kept on working
on you and the next thing I knew you started sweating like
hell and then jumped up yelling.  Man, I'm telling you; you
scared the hell out of me!"

"How long was I asleep?"  I asked, still trying to calm
down.

"I dunno...a few minutes maybe, no more than that," he
explained.  "What...you have another nightmare?"

This had a really familiar feel to it.

I twisted around underneath of Jon, facing his comforting
image, his fearful expression fading into one of concern.
"Yeah, you could say that," I said.  "Don't worry," I
soothed him, "I'm okay...you're here," I smiled as I ran my
hands along his thighs.  Then I saw his look of concern fade
again into the look of smiling, Mischievous Jon.

"Hey, while you were asleep, I had an idea for something
different to do that ought to get your mind off of your bad
dreams," he said, with a wry smile, a lilting eyebrow.

"Lemme guess," I started.  "You uncle's got a camcorder
downstairs that we can make our own...videos...with?"  I said,
smiling.  Jon's face went blank in bewilderment.
Apparently, I'd just taken a good chunk of the wind out of
his sails.  Maybe I should've just kept my mouth shut and
let him have his fun.  For a brief second or two, I don't
think he quite knew what to say.

"You know...you psychic types take all the fun out of
surprises," he said as he grabbed my nipples and twisted
them hard.  I instinctively curled up and cried out from the
pain that, oddly, felt good in a strange kind of way.
Surprises, he said.  If only you'd seen some of the
surprises I've had in the last day or so.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I pleaded until he let me go.  We
calmed down and I told him, "Why don't you go get it?"

Jon smiled.  "I'll be right back," he said, jumping from the
bed, throwing on his robe and heading quickly downstairs.

I could hear him rustling around downstairs when I heard
that little voice in the back of my head.  It wasn't Study
Guy; it was my little helper voice whispering something to
me.  Oh, yeah.

"Hey, Jon," I called out to him.  "Watch out for the
credenza."

"Do what?" he called back.  "Ow! Shit!"

"Oh, well," I thought.  Some thing's're just meant to be, I
guess.

I rested with my hands clasped behind my head, waiting for
Jon to come back limping with the camcorder.  I looked over
at the bed stand, then reached over, rapping it a few times
with my knuckles and felt along its edges, trying to
convince myself that I wasn't in another dream, that I was
back in my normal reality, whatever that was; I wasn't sure
anymore.

It seemed real enough.

I ran my hands slowly over my pecs and abs, trying to
convince myself that I was real and everything was back to
normal...still, I wasn't sure how to define 'real' right at
that moment, but...

"Hey, don't get started without ME," Jon said, grinning at
my reflective self-examination as he came limping back into
the room with the camera gear.

....Jon was sure going to help me find the dictionary...again.

                         *  *  *  *

(To Be Continued)