Date: Tue, 10 Jan 2012 19:33:17 -0500
From: Derrick Chase <pessimistsandoptimists@gmail.com>
Subject: A Pessimist's Guide to Optimism-1

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblances to real life
events or people are purely coincidental. This story is about love and lust
and loss, the three most entertaining things in the world! When deemed
necessary, there will be sex. If you are offended by sex, why are you on
this website? Get out now. If you are underage and reading this... Well,
there's worse stuff you could be doing illegally you; should still hit
escape though!!! Rebellious delinquents. Anyways, I'm a first time writer,
here goes nothin...

CHAPTER 1 RYAN

   It was dark. It was snowing. It was cold. Yet, despite the lovely
weather, I found myself freezing my balls off outside. My name is Ryan
Tarcy, and I am in the most unsettling predicament; I am lost in the middle
of a bitterly cold and violent snowstorm. None of this would of happened if
I hadn't agreed to go with Molly Worthington to the Christmas Dance. I
wouldn't be standing here, close to frostbite, if I had just said no to the
bitch. She wasn't even pretty... I mean, she had an okay face until she
opened her mouth. Her teeth were the color of straw. She also had the
hugest pores, but that's just me being picky. I thought back to a week ago
as I rubbed my hands together, trying to relieve the numbness.

   I'm a Junior at an all-boys, Catholic high school in Northern Ohio:
St. Joseph's. I have to go to school in a uniform, go to church once a
week, and all that other private school bullshit. Every year, the Friday
that Christmas Break starts, the all-girls school down the road,
St. Catherine's, holds its annual Christmas dance. Up until today, I had
never been. You have to get asked by a girl to go, so the chances of me
getting an invite to any St. Catherine's dance have always been slim. It's
not that I'm ugly or anything! I don't want you to think I'm some kind of
deformed, hunchbacked loser who picks his nose and eats his boogers. I
actually consider myself pretty attractive, not to be vain. I'm six foot, a
little skinny, but I'm a runner so it's not like I need that much mass. I
have hair that changes depending on the seasons. Right now it's brown with
light streaks of blonde, but in the summer it becomes golden with just a
few dark undertones. My eyes are even more erratic; they change daily from
dark blue, to light blue, to green-blue, to a hard metallic blue, to nearly
the color of the ocean, and some days they look almost purplish. My mom
says it depends on what clothes I wear, but I like to think its whatever
mood I'm in. If I could take a guess, my eyes are most likely blue like ice
at the moment, seeing as I cant even feel my face when I touch it...

   But I digress. The reason I'm never invited to any dances is because I
don't know a single girl-- other than my sister, mother and grandma of
course!! I just never seem to have time for the whole "girl" scene. I'm
either studying or running track. One of the two. I'm a man of few
interests... My friend James was the one who hooked me up with the date
this year, and I would damn him to hell if my teeth would stop
chattering. James knows everyone, and you may think I'm exaggerating when I
say everyone, but I mean every fucking man, woman and child in the state of
Ohio. He's president of the school, national merit scholar, and he's the
nicest kid I've ever met in my life. He's not big into sports, but that
doesn't keep him from being one of the most popular kids in the school, and
I'm his best friend sooo... I got that goin for me.

   Anyways, James has a girlfriend he's been on and off with since freshmen
year. Her name is Clara George and she's extremely pretty. She was the one
that found my jewel of a date, Molly. That was a week ago. James came up to
me and did everything but hold a gun up to my head and tell me I had to go
to the dance. He said that Molly was gonna text me and that I had better
say yes. He said that in his "don't-argue-or-I'll-slap-you voice." He means
well; he wants me to have a life outside of eating, sleeping and running. I
couldn't offer up an argument as to why I couldn't go, so I relented and
said yes. Well, I could have offered up a pretty valid argument, but I
wasn't ready to out myself for the sake of getting out of a high school
dance. You know how I talked about the "girl" scene? It doesn't exactly
interest me.

   Yeah, I'm gay. I've known for awhile now I guess. It started near the
beginning of high school, I think. My parents gave me a laptop for school,
but I had found the secrets of the Internet were much more interesting than
homework. I never even thought to look up "hot girls" or "big, floppy,
juicy titties." I was more interested in the hard pecs, abs, and dicks of
teenage and college guys. I obviously haven't told a soul about my
sexuality; maybe you missed the part where it was a PRIVATE CATHOLIC school
I was going to.

   So after school got out today, I went home and got ready for the
dance. You had to dress formally, so I pulled on a white collared dress
shirt, and a striped black and grey tie. I wore a pair of black dress pants
and a black suit. The pants were made of loose, thin fabric, and the shoes
I wore were polished and shiny. When I looked in the mirror, I gelled my
hair up just a little; I had to look nice for the pictures. Our "dance
group" consisted of seven couples, and I really only knew Clara and
James. I recognized a few of the guys, but they were nothing special
looking. I mainly just hung back with James while the parents of the girls
took pictures.

   Now I know what you're thinking: I probably have a huge crush on James,
and the truth is... You're absolutely right. There's a reason he's so
popular; you can't be successful by just being nice, outgoing, modest, and
likable... You have to be hot as hell too. James is. He's tall and really
well built; he has muscles in all the right places, but never really works
out. He's got dark brown hair, skin that's really only found on California
beaches, and eyes that are coppery and dark. I could fantasize about him to
no end. But he's straight as pin. I don't have a single chance with
him. I've known him my whole life, and I can tell you for certain he likes
girls. When I first found out what 'jacking off' was, he was all I could
think about. I grew out of that though. James is too much of a friend to
me. Don't get me wrong, if he wanted to fuck me I would have a condom in
one hand and a tube of lube in the other, but I could never have a
relationship with him other than that of a friend. We've been through too
much together.

   The Christmas dance was as fun as it could be. I played my part as a
straight guy well; I grinded up against Molly for the fast songs and slow
danced with her when I had to. I felt very out of place the whole night,
though. There were so many people and I knew hardly any of them. Every cool
guy from my school was there, and I would check a few of them out while
Molly and I swayed back and forth during slow songs. The whole football
team made an appearance.

   Let me clarify something first. Football at St. Joseph's was a lot more
than a high school sport. It was a lifestyle to the school and people of
the town. The guys who played were revered throughout the entire
community. The jocks were celebrities and got some of the most preferential
and biased treatment I have ever seen. St. Joseph's had won states the past
ten years, and took the game very seriously, and because of this year's
win, all of the players were exempt from midterm exams... Remember what I
said about biased treatment? On a more... carnal level, however, I would
pay big money just to see any of the players naked. They all were hot: no
exceptions, but the whole "I'm a big, strong, sexy, STRAIGHT football
player" left me... Is broken-hearted the right word? There was, however,
one jock who stood above all the rest, but as I looked around the dance
floor, I never caught a glimpse of the most heart-throbbingly hot
quarterback of every man and woman's dreams. Straight girls wanted him,
straight guys wanted to be him, and gay guys like me wanted pull down his
pants and go to town on him all night long. His name was Derrick, Derrick
Chase, and he was the sexiest, hottest, and most popular man in at least
the Midwest, probably America, maybe the world. I didn't see him all
night. The amount of people at the dance was crazy, and since Molly didn't
want to go to the middle of the dance floor where all the cool people were,
I wasn't too surprised I didn't get to see Derrick.

   Molly and I had to drive to James's house after the dance for an
after-party. Knowing James, there would be a good amount of people. I
turned the radio up really loud so I wouldn't have to talk to Molly, and we
had hardly said a word to each other by the time we got to James's
place. His house was already insane. A bunch of people had left the dance
early so they could get to the much crazier after parties. Molly leapt out
of the car to catch one of her friends walking into the party. I was happy
to watch her go, I was tired of having to play the straight guy. I let her
go inside the house before stepping out of my car.

   James's parents often took exotic trips together,-- Hawaii, Bahamas,
Paris-- and his folks weren't home to see the bottles upon bottles of
hardcore liquor being passed around at his after party. The music was
pumping so loud that the walls seemed to shake, and all of the
well-mannered Catholic boys and girls were going crazy. In every corner of
the room people were either making out, or half-naked grinding up against
each other. When I found James I shouted to him,

"This is a few bottles of vodka away from becoming a sweaty orgy!"

   He just smiled and raised his can of Coke in a toast to me. James rarely
drank alcohol, but he had no problem with other people drinking. He was so
noble... I only knew about half the people at the party, and most of them
were too busy with their dates to talk. The rest were too drunk. Molly had
vanished entirely, and I had nothing better to do but stand alone against
the living room wall, taking sips from the water bottles of Smirnoff when
they were passed my way. Around two-o-clock I decided to step out of the
house for some air. I was drunk and almost slid off James's icy porch, but
I regained my composure. The night was a million times quieter than the
house. I started to walk a little ways down James's street. Then I walked a
bit more, then I made a few turns, then walked a bit more, turned some
more. Snowflakes stuck to my sport coat, and I could see my hot breath in
the cold air. James lived in a nice, well-to-do neighborhood, and it was
late, so not a single life form but myself was wandering the sidewalks. All
the while I walked, I took small gulps from the aquafina bottle I
had. Until...

   Here I am, frozen, shivering, and nothing in my hands but an empty water
bottle. I tried to call James but the party is too crazy and he doesn't
answer, I'm not shocked. I have half a mind to go knock on one of the
houses and ask where the hell I am.

   I spotted a metal bench near the ended the street, and had nothing
better to do than sit down and rest; I had walked a long ways. The night
grew colder, the winds howled, and the nice, pretty snowflakes became
chunky, clumped-up snowballs. My sport coat was not very warm. I abandoned
my bench, and tried to remember how I got to wherever the hell I
was. Surprise, surprise: a drunk teenager has a piss poor memory. I must
have walked aimlessly for half and hour before I saw God's gift to me: two
pairs of headlights coming my way. I wasn't going to die! The snow was
falling harder, and my whole body was damp with sweat and ice. The car took
ages to reach me; my teeth were chattering uncontrollably. I bounced up and
down, trying to generate body heat. When the Ford Escape got close enough,
I waved drunkenly at it, trying to get the driver to stop and pick my
frozen ass up. It started to slow down, and stopped right in front of me. I
raced to the door and my numb fingers pulled at the handle.

"Thank God, I though I was gonna die," I said weakly.  I could feel myself
melting,and I rubbed my hands in front of the heat vents. I heard myself
breathing heavily.

"Are you okay, man?" said a deep voice, "You're face looks blue."

   I felt a hand brush against my left cheek. I shivered at the touch, and
not because I was most likely hypothermic. I knew who the driver of the car
was. I think part of me knew while I was still outside trying to get his
attention. I turned to my left and saw Derrick Chase staring at me with
concerned, green eyes.

"I... uhh... I was out there for an hour at least." I muttered dumbly,
trying to make my voice deeper.

"What the fuck were you doing walking around in a blizzard? You're hands
are frozen!"

  Next thing I knew, Derrick grabbed my hands and massaged feeling back
into them. His hands were rough, warm and strong. They had callouses from
working out, but they were sexy. If hands could be sexy, Derrick's were,
and the feel of his touch sent electric currents through my hands, down my
spine, and up to my head. My whole face was fuzzy, and I couldn't tell if
it was from the cold, or from Derrick's touch.

   "I just wanted fresh air. I was on a walk, but I couldn't... Get-- do
you know James Griffin? I was at his house." I sounded drunk.

   "Of course I know James, I just left his party." Derrick sounded
perfectly sober, he was smiling at me. His teeth were perfect, of
course. "I'm headed home right now... You can come if you want? I'll drive
you to pick up your car in the morning."

   Did I hear right. Did Derrick Chase just ask if I wanted to sleep at his
house? That's like asking if I eat food, or drink water, or sleep. Of
course, yes! What other answer is there!?

"Really? You'd do that. Do you even know me?"

"Yeah?" he said quizzically, "We go to the same school. You're Ryan Tarcy,
right?"

   He knows my name! He knows my name... how the fuck does he know my
name??

"That's me. Derrick Chase, right?"

   As if I didn't know who he was...

"We had drivers ed together, remember." he smiled again.

   Of course I remembered! I spent the whole class staring at the back of
your head!

"Yeah... I... Yeah that was good," why was I so wasted?

"How 'bout I get us home, your clothes are probably drenched."

   The car ride to Derrick's didn't take long, but it seemed to take
years. I still wasn't sure how I came to be sitting next to Derrick Chase,
in the front seat of his car, on the way to his house. The situation
baffled me. I kept glancing over at him, taking him in. He was so hot, so
handsome, so sexy. He was quarterback of the football team, and looked the
part in every way. He was tall, strong, his muscles were bulging and
big. He had short, black hair that was pushed up in the front, revealing
his smooth face. His cheekbones were perfectly defined, his lips were pink,
silky, and above all, kissable. His chest rippled underneath his tight
dress shirt, and his forearms bulged inside the confines of the
sleeves. Lastly, his eyes were the darkest of greens, like
pine-needles. They were deep, thoughtful, and begged me to stare into them.

"This is us," he said, pulling into his driveway.

I was so drunk and tired, I didn't say anything. I climbed out of the car,
and the jock came around to help me inside. He held me around the waist as
he led me inside and to his room.

"Just sit on my bed, I'll get you some clothes," he said with a bit of a
grin.

His bed? I felt my dick stiffen slightly. I watched as he dug through his
drawers and tossed me a pair of his boxers and a t-shirt.

"You can wear those. They're clean don't worry," he said. He looked almost
playful.

   I was still drunk, and felt myself smiling at him. I couldn't stop
running my hands through my hair.

"Let me get you a towel...," he said.

   He came back into the room and wrapped my head in a white, gym towel; it
smelled like him. He rubbed my hair vigorously; I was getting stiffer
still, and could see the outline of my cock through my dress pants.

"All done," he said sing-songily, "You should get changed."

   I tried to move my arms, but they were too heavy. When I tried to talk,
a mumbled gibberish spilled out. I drank way too much. He studied me for a
moment, and hesitantly loosened my tie. I wasn't aware of what was
happening-- too drunk-- but I did know that I liked whatever Derrick was
doing. He unbuttoned my shirt and slipped my undershirt off of me. He
proceeded to take off his shirt, and stripped down to his boxers.

"I guess you're sleeping like that, c'mon my bed's big enough for both of
us."

   My dick gave a lurch. I stared at his washboard abs for a moment before
climbing under the covers.  Derrick turned the light off and slid into bed.

"Good night, Ryan," he said, "Next time, maybe cool it on the vodka."

"Thank you," I said, "I hardly know you, but you're a really good. I mean,
you're a really good person, you know, for all this."

   I felt his cool hand run the length of my side.

"I couldn't let a sexy thing like you freeze out there." he chuckled and
rolled over.

   Derrick Chase's leg was rubbing against mine when I finally drifted off
to sleep.

TBC

Hi. Well, obviously I have plans to make a series out of this wonderful
little story. If there's enough interest! I don't want to waste my time
writing garbage. If you have questions, comments, complaints, love letters,
hate mail, proposals of Internet marriage, please send all of that good
stuff to pessimistsandoptimists@gmail.com. I would really appreciate
hearing what everyone thought of chapter one! I have a couple more chapters
written, but like I said, if people think the story blows...