Date: Fri, 16 Jun 2006 21:58:01 -0700 (PDT)
From: Douglas Grant <dlgrantsf@yahoo.com>
Subject: gang-of-five-16

Copyright 2006 by dlgrantsf@yahoo.com; all rights reserved.

Last installment in a short novel about friendship, growth, and different
kinds of love, in different combinations, between five high-school boys.

First warning; the story can be very sexual.  If I were to code it
properly, it might be (BBBBB/group/oral/anal/mast/rimming/awholebunchelse).
Be aware.

Second warning; the characters sometimes talk about politics, the potential
for a military draft, and the state of the U.S. and the world, among other
aspects of their lives.  They have some fairly strong opinions, as people
will do.  Offense to any reader is not intended.

More after the end of this chapter.  Thanks for reading . . . .


***********************************************************************

Gang of Five -- Part Six

Chapter 16 (Epilog)

-----------------------------------------


All of that happened last summer.

It feels like a hundred years ago, now.


I'm getting pretty near to the end of my first year in American high
school; late Spring, and I just turned seventeen.  I still feel a kind of
cultural whiplash, now and then; but it's getting easier.

I was surprised how many kids I remembered from middle school, and even
more surprised how many remembered me; I felt like I was away in England
for a lifetime.  But to some of them, it was just long enough to go from
braces to retainers.

Of course, it helped that I was hanging out so much with Zach, and Tim and
Jarod, and with Liam.  It wasn't really like starting a new school; I had a
place, I had friends, I had a circle.


Zach and I have changed, so much, even since last summer.  We've both
grown; so much.

We're so close, now.  It's hard to remember, being so weird, so far apart,
back then.  I mean; how could we let it get that bad?  Why didn't we tell
each other, how we felt?  How we loved each other?  Why didn't we TALK to
each other -- ?

We talk, now.

And we're so, so close; I swear, I don't know where I end, and he begins.

Yeah; that's a really old cliche.  But there are reasons for cliches.  They
describe reality.

I love him even more now, than that day last summer.  Even more.


Liam and Candace have grown together, too.  Everyone at school expects them
to end up married, some day.

Candace -- well.  She is amazing.

Beautiful; on the thin side, (and those breasts Liam keeps talking about?
Not exactly huge.  Pert, maybe?  Not that I'm any kind of judge).

But she's so SMART, and so, so FUNNY; she has this really dry, droll wit,
and the funniest expressions, especially when she's doing impressions of
some of our teachers--

And she really, really cares about Liam.

Liam lucked out.  We all agree.  Including Liam.

And no, she doesn't come swimming with us; either at Zach's house, or
Clay's Beach.

But she has gone with Liam to Clay's Beach; and he hasn't given up, on
getting us all together, someday . . .

There's something noble about Liam, fighting for lost causes.


We all grew, over the last year.  As things happened.


Zach confronting the military recruiters was a huge anti-climax.  It was
hilarious.

It was the Marines, as it turned out; they came to our campus in dress
blues, and a humvee, and were out in the parking lot giving out videogame
CD's, and other stuff.

To a fairly skeptical audience, I have to admit.  It is Marin County; kids
are more likely to go into medical school, than go into the Marines.

But it was a crowd; almost all boys, just a couple of girls.

So, Zach waited until the crowd around the humvee was pretty thick; then he
walked -- I won't say marched, exactly; poor choice of words, under the
circumstances -- right down the driveway, and up to the Marine doing most
of the talking.

And I went with him.  Like I said I would.

"So," went Zach, when he could get the man's attention.  Fairly loudly.
"I've got to tell you, I really, really oppose the war in Iraq; I think
it's wrong, and illegal.  But besides that . . . . it turns out, I'm gay;
so even if I wanted to enlist, to serve my country, I guess I couldn't do
that, with the laws the way they are now.  Right?"

THAT got attention.  All conversation stopped; and about twenty pairs of
eyes turned to him.

To us, actually.  Although I didn't say anything; and we weren't holding
hands, or doing anything explicit.  I figured that this was Zach's
political statement, and I didn't want to mess it up, dilute it by butting
in, going off-topic.

But I had to be there.  And Zach and I are so close, together so much, even
in school -- people were looking at us.

But the Marine didn't react; not at all.  He just calmly, patiently
explained how Don't Ask, Don't Tell works, and gave a few examples, like
he's been through it all a hundred times before . . .

And I might be wrong; but just the tone of his voice, the way he moved his
eyes; I thought I could detect a little sympathy, in how he was saying it;
and maybe, that he thought the whole issue was, well, kind of ridiculous.

And then Tony Wexman, the ultimate science geek if there ever was one,
completely oblivious, was butting in with some question about night vision
goggles, and that turned the conversation completely around -- and the Big
Moment was over.

But I've never been so proud of Zach . . .


I figured we were outed for sure; regardless.  But almost nothing came of
it.

Walking back up the driveway, one of the guys who'd seen the whole thing,
Mason Chalmers, came up to Zach.

"Way to go, dude," he said, looking over at us.  "That is so smart.  Get it
on your permanent record now, before they start up the draft.  I wish I'd
thought of it."

And what can you say, to something like that?  `No, wait, it's true, we
really ARE gay?'  I guess we could have done.  But it wasn't about coming
out, right then; it was about the military, and discrimination, and equal
rights, and Iraq.  And maybe Iran.

So we didn't say anything.

Zach did wind up with three invitations to join antiwar groups, though.  He
already belonged to two of them, at least by email.

Well.  It's Marin County.  What can I say?

But best of all, a boy named Alex, who we really wouldn't have suspected of
being a member, came up to both of us the next day and invited us to go to
a Gay Straight Alliance meeting.  So we went.

We're still going.  It's mostly talk, and almost all of it is just being
supportive of each other -- other gay kids; (and their families and
friends).  But that's important.

It's weird, sitting in a room with other people -- other than the five of
us -- who KNOW about us.  I mean, it's fairly obvious, about Zach and me.

We've even held hands, there.  What a rush.


The draft is a big, big topic, at school.  Lots of rumors; every week, it
seems.  Most everybody says they think it's going to happen.

"And," Jarod said, one afternoon, acidly; "when it happens, you just know
Congress will partially repeal Don't Ask, Don't Tell.  They'll make special
exceptions for us; they'll give us jobs as test dummies for body armor, or
defusing IED's.  Just to show everybody how much they care about gay and
lesbian citizens."

I swear, I'll get Zach to Europe somehow, if the draft comes back.  To
France, or Germany, maybe. Or maybe The Netherlands; asylum in Amsterdam,
or The Hague.  But I'll find a place for him, I swear.

And then we'll work on getting Tim and Jarod and Liam over.


Liam's seventeenth birthday came around; and we all went together and got
him --

Well.  Let's just say, a really good, illustrated, detailed, how-to book on
anal sex and anal health for men, and some toys.  Including a vibrator.

Liam almost cried when he opened them up (without Candace around).  I don't
think I've ever seen him get so emotional, before.

"You guys -- !  Oh, man, you shouldn't have.  I mean -- oh, this is
PERFECT!  I've really missed . . . .  Thank you, so much -- !", and then he
choked up some more, and hugged and kissed each of us.

It was Tim's older brother Patrick who actually bought it all for us.

"My brother says," Tim told us, afterwards, "that it's the straight boys
who are the most secure about their own . . . . . . . . sexuality, who
really get into playing around, anally.  Everybody," and he locked again,
for a second; " -- knows it."

Tim has his depths, like I said.  I think his brother does, too.


                                     *


Liam wasn't the only one learning more about sex.

Like I said -- Zach and I talk, now.  About everything; we promised each
other, we'd tell each other what was going on, in our lives, between us,
what we were feeling; everything important.

So as time went by, and we were spending more time together, more NIGHTS
together -- almost always at his house -- the more I realized there was
something we weren't talking so much about.  But really needed to.

I kind of got nervous about raising the issue; then I got mad at myself,
because that's how we got into trouble in August.  And I didn't ever want
us to get into a situation like that, again.

So one day in October, after school, I brought it up.

We were on The Hill, above the little shopping area; drinking iced coffee.
Just Zach and me.  Tim and Jarod were off running.

"Zach - ?"

"Mmm-mmm?"  He sucked on his straw.

It was incredibly hot; believe it or not, October is the hottest month of
the year, in the San Francisco Bay Area.  It's when the fog goes away; but
before it gets cooler.  Everybody calls it `our summer'.

"You know our agreement?  We're supposed to be honest with each other?"

"Uh-oh," he said, after the straw came out of his mouth.

No shields.  No barriers coming up.  Like I said -- we've gotten so close.

"Well -- " I began.

And I did it.  I told him; that I worried, a little, sometimes, that I was
kind of -- demanding.  Sexually demanding, I mean.  As in, wanting too
much, too often.  And getting -- grabby.  Too physical; wanting to touch
him, hold him, kiss him, too much.

I wasn't being completely honest.  The truth was, I worried about it, more
than a little.  I figured I was kind of pressuring him, pressuring him into
sex, sometimes; and I hated that feeling.  I really did.

And when I finished, there was a silence; then I saw Zach shake his head,
with a crook to his lips, and look off to the distance.

"Jesus," he said.  "Even after all we've been through -- I just don't
believe it.  Jesus . . . "

"What?"

He kept looking off into the distance.  "That we're still falling into this
trap.  Not talking, I mean."  He turned his head, and looked right at me.
"Christian -- I've been worried about the same thing.  In reverse," he
said.  He looked back down the hill, then at me again.  "I've been holding
back.  A lot.  I mean -- I want to do more.  With you.  A lot more.  But I
didn't want to -- I don't know.  Push you, I guess."

"You did?"  I was really stunned; but I also felt a huge rush of blood,
down to my groin.  "Hold back, I mean?"

"Yeah."  He looked down, and played with the lid on his coffee.  "You know.
I've always been the horny one.  You guys used to tease me about it . . . "

"I did not!"

He smiled at me, and his feelings were in his eyes.  "Well -- no.  Not
you."  He shrugged.  "But I've always held back, even when we were kids.
It's like -- I've always had to."

"I don't want you to hold back," I said, and my dick was so, so hard, now.

Actually, it was like my whole BODY was kind of, erect.  I was sort of
thinking, but not thinking about the possibilities . . . Jesus.

But that was just the start.

We went on from there to talk about sex -- more explicitly.  As in, what we
liked; our fantasies, the best times we'd had, what really worked for us
. . .

And it was so hard to do!  It was amazingly hard; I mean, what Zach and I
had was so precious, and it WORKED, after all, and the last thing I wanted
was to risk -- disappointing him, I guess, or hearing something about me I
didn't want to hear . . .

It was one of the best things we've ever, ever done.  I'm so glad we did.

For one thing, I found out so much more about Zach; that part of him, I
mean.  He really opened up to me, and it all made sense --

And it was so, so hot.  SO hot.  To talk about it.  To try to put words, to
it.  To the kind of really intense, shattering sex we liked to have.  Tried
to have.  Pursued.

We both found out how much we really, really like rimming, for instance.
Doing it; and getting rimmed.  So sometimes, since then, we'll arrange
special nights -- at his house -- when we kind of concentrate on that . . .
Out by the pool; in different rooms at his house; sometimes kind of --
surprising each other, starting in doing it at odd moments . . . .

Just one example.  There are other things, too; like bare feet (still -- I
told him how much I was into that, still, and his eyes got all wide, and he
just broke into such a SMILE), and, and --

Anyway.

The point is, it was kind of a breakthrough.  We got inside each other's
head; and it's made our sex life, our physical-lovemaking-life, a LOT more
intense.  A LOT.

And we're still talking, that way.  It's an ongoing conversation, not just
a one-off.  And a hot, hot, hot conversation.

We're still teaching each other about sex, as we go.  And we're still
growing.


                                     *


One of the other really, really good things about this past year happened
just a little while ago.  For Spring Break, while just about everybody else
in our school was going snowboarding up in the Sierras, Zach and I went to
England.  For almost two weeks.  We stayed with my Aunt Jena.

Okay.  Major, major culture clash.

Major CONSCIOUSNESS clash; two completely separate halves of my life,
colliding.  It was kind of surreal.

We spent some time with Aunt Jena, of course; and the three of us visited
my grandparents.  And Zach charmed all of them, just totally.  And I think
I could feel Aunt Jena covering up her astonishment that her
slightly-morose and somewhat-fragile nephew had turned into someone who
laughed and talked and smiled, so much.

But most days, Zach and I took the train into more-central London.

I showed him all the standard sights, and enjoyed seeing them all again,
myself.  I was really careful to get a picture of him on top of St. Paul's
dome, the Thames in the background, just like the one of me he had, that
he'd liked so much.

Then I made a poor Irish tourist take the same shot -- three times -- with
my camera, but with Zach and me together, arms over each other's shoulders.

And I showed Zach where we lived, and the Nero cafe in Soho where I used to
hang out, and I kind of choked up, describing to him how I used to sit
there, nursing an espresso and thinking about him, MISSING him --

And, being Soho, and Old Compton Street and all that, he put his arm around
me, and kissed me on the cheek, and we walked down the street holding
hands, for awhile, and it was such a rush, and all I could think was lucky,
lucky, LUCKY . . .


I made sure we took a side trip to Cambridge, one day; Cambridge
University, I mean.  Including a nice, long walking tour.

It's really, really beautiful, at Cambridge; more so than Oxford, to me.
But Cambridge is also one of the most important centers for biotech
research in Europe . . .

Just thinking ahead.


And of course, we got together with Robert and Jose.  And Elizabeth, as it
turned out.

Yeah; Robert and Elizabeth did get together, in the end.

Robert's father was finally posted to one of the --stan countries, in
Central Asia; a former part of the former Soviet Union.

It wasn't a posting for a family.  Not even a diplomat's spouse; Robert
stayed behind in London, with his mum, and kept on at our old school.

Not that everything's perfect.  Elizabeth's family is supposed to go back
to Atlanta, sometime in the unspecified, not-too-distant future; and Robert
and Elizabeth together -- well.  There's a kind of, slightly desperate air,
about them; a whiff of Romeo and Juliet, maybe.

Not all love stories have happy endings.

But -- like I told Robert, when we got a chance to talk, alone -- it wasn't
over yet.  University was coming up for all of us, fast; and even if
Elizabeth went to school in the US -- well.  Maybe I could help him apply
to go to school, here.  (There, I meant, at the time.)  With research, and
personal statements, and stuff.  But mostly, maybe my parents could help,
with recommendations, influence, phone calls, whatever they could do, as
tenured professors . . .

And maybe, they could help Elizabeth, the same way, if she wanted to go to
school in the UK.

I know; I shouldn't have volunteered my parents.  But they'd understand;
and Robert and Elizabeth are both really talented, smart . . . good
candidates.  For wherever they want to go.

I really, really hope it works out for them.  They do love each other; as
improbable as it seems to me, anybody loving Robert like that, but -- they
do.

So I worry about Robert.


Apart from that -- just seeing Robert and Jose talking with Zach, while I
got to know Elizabeth better -- and just watching us all interact, me and
Zach as one couple, Robert and Elizabeth (who clearly knew about Zach and
me, whether Robert told her or not), as another, -- with Jose, bless him,
as good-natured and oblivious as always --

I don't know.  Just mind-bending, I guess.

And distance-bending.  And my-different-realities-bending.

But, so, so wonderful.  Healing; really.  Ultimately.


                                     *


Probably most important of all, though -- we came out to my parents.  Zach
and me.  Last week.

Now, I really, really don't recommend this for everybody.  I mean -- think
about it.  Do YOU want to know specifics, about your parents' sex lives?
Do you really want to go there?

Right.

So, do you think they want to deal with YOUR sex life -- ?

Besides.  There are too many horror stories, about parents putting kids
into tough-love camps, Christian brainwashing programs --

Don't do this at home.  Please.

But for Zach and me -- well.  My mum was on a diversity outreach committee
of the Academic Senate at Cal, and my dad --

It's Marin County.  Like I said.

Plus -- I guess Zach and me were getting a little obvious.  A little
careless, maybe.

We were spending a lot of nights together; mostly at his house.
"Studying", we said -- it was the truth, actually; our work loads were
pretty heavy, and we helped each other, a lot -- but.  I had the feeling,
at our age, it was getting a little -- obvious.  Maybe.

And then, there was that one time at my house.

We'd slept in pretty late, on a Saturday morning; and, still kind of
groggy, we'd thumped down the steps, barefoot, into the kitchen, for coffee
--

And I sort of noticed something in the air, as I headed towards the
espresso maker; a sort of careful, lack-of-reaction from my mum and dad, at
the table in the breakfast nook.

And as I reached for the cups, it occurred to me that my hair was still
wet, and Zach's hair was still wet, and -- it's a small house, after all --
it must have been really, really obvious that Zach and me had just taken a
shower together, and -- face it -- most seventeen-year-old boys don't
shower with their male friends, after a sleepover . . . .

Zach told me later that I turned absolutely white.  For once; instead of
flushing.  And I just worked the espresso maker, not turning to face them,
wishing I was a thousand miles away --

We just hadn't thought.  We took showers together at Zach's all the time.

I was so mortified.

And Zach, bless him -- he saved us.  Saved me.  He just started up again on
a ridiculous conversation he'd been having with my dad, about Deinococcus
radiodurans, a microbe which is really radiation-resistant and can survive
space travel, and my dad is just fascinated by everything, even when it's
totally not his field, so they really got into it, and my mum couldn't
resist, so she got involved, and I just stood there, making espresso for me
and Zach, quietly, while my heartbeat tried to go back to normal . . .


Anyway.  It was time.  To talk about it; things were getting too awkward.

So.  I came out to my mum; at the same breakfast nook table.

WE came out to my mum.  Zach was there.  Of course.

And there were some tears -- (not sad ones, I hope; I really hope) -- and
hugs, all around, for me and Zach both, and a kind of fiercely radiating
LOVE from my mum, that just kind of warmed my soul more than I can possibly
describe --

And then, being British, after all, she made tea.

Well, tea for herself and Zach, anyway.  I made instant coffee, for myself.
I've always hated tea.

Zach's always loved it.  Go figure.

So we sat around the table, nibbling biscuits, talking some more; and we
laughed about the Zach-and-me-showering-together morning (my mum's
description of the look on my face, then, was so hilarious; she has a
wicked sense of humor, sometimes), and she told us this funny story about a
sort of similar thing that happened to her and my dad at her parents' -- my
grandparents' -- house, before they were married --

 And at one point, I just had to ask.

"Mum?  Did you, like -- guess about me, being, uh . . .  gay?  Before now,
I mean?"

It was still so weird to talk about it.  And yes, I was flushing, this
time.

And my mum just gave me this LOOK, which reminded me all of a sudden,
really strongly, of her sister, Aunt Jena, my proper, reserved,
unfailingly-polite, never-say-the- wrong-thing aunt, so unlike my mum --

And she poured more tea for Zach, and gracefully changed the subject.


                                     *


School will be out for the summer, soon.  Although Zach and I already have
our plans; summer programs, classes, and yeah, at least a short internship,
for him.

And we have plans for just us; personal plans.  A lot of swimming; as much
beach time as we can get in.  And some camping trips; in June, it'll be six
months since Zach got his drivers license, so he can start having
under-eighteen-year-old passengers -- like me.  Even if he's still
restricted from driving at night, for another six months, we can still
explore lots of new places.

I'm going to wait awhile, to get my own license.  That
driving-on-the-wrong-side-of-the- road-thing, here . . . .

Anyway.

We'll share a lot of it with Tim and Jarod; and with Liam, if we can get
him away.  We've been pretty good about keeping us the Gang of Five; none
of us wants to lose that special connection, that closeness -- including
the physical closeness.  Sharing each other; sharing our bodies.

The love we all share -- that's permanent.  Whatever happens.

But it's good to be alone with Zach, too.

Really good.

I still have moments, of wondering where I really belong; cultural
whiplash.  Still.  Wondering where home really is; or should be, for me.
But it's getting -- better.  Easier.

I think Zach and I will wind up living in lots of different places, over
time.  Over years.  Probably in Europe; at some point.  Probably different
parts of Europe -- at least temporarily; Europe is going to be part of my
life, whatever else happens.

And probably, maybe mostly, we'll be living here, in the U.S., too; it all
depends on schools, and jobs, and degrees, and careers, and whatever else
comes our way.

But in the end, it doesn't really matter, all that much.  Zach is my home;
and I'm Zach's.  That's the reality, and it's all that really matters.


//end//


***********************************************************************


Gang of Five -- Class Discussion


No, you are not responsible for knowing this material.  This material will
not be on the final.  There will not be a pop quiz.  But, you do get
limitless extra credit karma points just for reading this far.


                                     *


Inspiration for this story comes at least partly from real life; a long
time ago, there was a group of four or five exquisitely beautifully teenage
boys who used to go to Devil's Slide (clothing optional) beach, when I was
there, and run around, and laugh, and wrestle, and play a lot of (nude)
frisbee . . . and yeah, they were gay; I could tell that much.  I never
knew their stories; and I doubt they were in quite such a friendship group
as this . . . but.

Some things stay with you.

Thanks to all of them, wherever they (you?) are.

Much more important inspiration comes from some of the people I've known,
and loved, over the years; growing up, and since.  I wasn't lucky enough to
have a Gang of Five of my own, in high school; but I still cared deeply for
my friends.  And many of you, who've written me with your own stories, WERE
that lucky: thank you, so much, for sharing your experiences with me!  I've
been moved, and touched; and your own stories will make my fiction better.
I hope.


For the record, the political opinions expressed in this story do not
necessarily reflect the opinions of the owners/operators of the Nifty
erotic archive; nor are they necessarily, completely, my own opinions.

Well, okay, they are my opinions.  Just don't hold it against Nifty,
please?


                                     *


Speaking of political opinions -- all of the things Christian talks about,
in the pool (Christian Dominionism, the Patrick Henry College, the Texas
Republican Party platform) -- I'm sorry to say, it's all real.  And Zach is
right, that we're a bit further down the slope than we think.  I won't
clutter up a Nifty story with links; but if you're interested, email me,
and I'll send you more information.  Be Prepared; especially those of you
who are young, and especially those of you who are in the `red' states.
Please.


As I said, all of the characters in this story are essentially fictitious;
composites of those different people I've known, and, yeah, loved.

With three exceptions; I really did, once, meet a cute, rambunctious Akita
on the beach, who really was owned by a cute, slightly shaggy, blond, bare
college boy, who was there with his boyfriend.  I changed the Akita's name,
though, to protect his privacy.


Comments, reactions, and criticism are welcome at dlgrantsf@yahoo.com.

If you read this whole story, and liked it -- and haven't written me, yet
-- please let me know?  Doesn't need to be an essay; just a line.


Many, many thanks, again and still, to Nifty for providing this priceless
service.

My previous Nifty story is `Naked with Connor', in the High School
directory.

Very, very importantly -- thanks again to everyone who has written; I'm
deeply grateful for all your emails.  And thanks again, for reading.