Date: Sun, 26 Sep 2010 03:12:06 -0400 From: Jade <phantomscorpio77@gmail.com> Subject: Gay/High School : If You Could Read My Mind 14 Copyright 2010 by Jaden Lane, All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording , or by any information storage and retrieval storage system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner. (Permission to post electronically is given to www.nifty.org and its affiliated mirror sites only.) This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblances to any person, place, or written works are purely coincidental. It may contain consensual sex between young men. Do not read if you find that objectionable or if it is illegal for you to view this content for whatever the reason. Always love to hear from you, please let me know what you think @ phantomscorpio77@gmail.com or stop by to see how things are going with the next chapter and other writing @ www.myspace.com/phantomscorpio77 >>).:.(<< If You Could Read My Mind >>).:.(<< On his very next shift at work the following Wednesday, Cathy takes the opportunity to ask Neville to sit down for a few minutes with her. When a young family heads out and leaves the diner empty Neville lowers his head and shoulders, and saunters over to the table she's doing paperwork at. He dreads what's coming next, and his fear shows when he half misses the chair. After he scrambles to stay upright and sits properly on his second attempt, he inquires, "Uh, is everything okay?" "We still haven't got your social insurance," Cathy indicates. Neville lets out a long breath and seems to physically deflate, "I know. I can give you a bad excuse but here's the deal. It's not like me and I feel really stupid but I never mailed the application away. I thought I had and then I found it later and kept forgetting. I'm sorry." "That's not good," Cathy chides. Sliding back to sit properly on the chair, Neville rolls his head back and studies the high ceiling for a moment. Facing Cathy again, he answers, "I know. I know you have to report my earnings and taxes for what you pay me and I was thinking, whatever you'd be paying me, don't worry about it. You let me do my laundry while I work and you give me a free meal every shift and you guys let me stay over during both of those brutal storms." Cathy shakes her head, "We can't do that. You need to get on top of this quickly. But there's a bigger problem. I've called my contact at Revenue Canada just across the island in Summerside, and she can't find anything on record for you. Which makes some sense now; Bailey says that you don't live with your parents at all, and I'm getting concerned." "I understand. Would it be better if I just quit? Call it even for everything you've done for me and don't worry about paying me," Neville tries to barter. Cathy again shakes her head, "No, the money set aside for your paycheques is yours. Here's a number the woman at Revenue Canada gave me to get the ball rolling on getting things straightened out. She said to ask for that extension specifically, and you can get this mess sorted out. We need to see your card soon or else we're going to have to let you go. You're eighteen in a couple months now, Neville. It's time to take this serious." "Okay, Mrs. Regan. You're right. I'm sorry. I'll call her after school tomorrow." "Now then, about this business with Bailey." "Uh oh." "One day you boys are kissing for the first time, the next you're sneaking in Bailey's back door in the middle of the night." Neville laughs out loud at the last comment. Cathy does too once she realizes what she said. "I understand you do cleanup at the arena after it closes and usually that's not until past midnight. Bailey's just shy of seventeen and highly impressionable. Aside from his court imposed curfew, we have to give him firm boundaries sometimes. We don't want to stomp on what you guys have going on, but we do want to set the rule that you only stay over Fridays and Saturdays. However, if you're still there at midnight, that doesn't work well either. That's too late to visit." "I get it." "Well he sure doesn't. He's been storming around since he got home from school." "We can still do things without me sleeping over. We haven't even gone on a real date yet. We can go on dates," Neville suggests, his mind still almost squarely on how to make things work with his identity. >>).:.(<< As it's May and the high school hockey season has ended, Josh shows up for morning shinny twice a week with Neville, on the days they don't hit the gym at lunch. Initially his intent is to find out where Neville is living, now that he's clearly moved. This time he's learned his lesson; Neville wants and needs to be invisible. Adding things up, he's pretty sure Neville still lives somewhere inside the arena, so this time he doesn't press it. On this morning Neville seems down. Josh inquires, "You look like your cat just died. Meet me in the cafeteria at school once you go stash your stuff and get your bag out of your new top-secret lair. Just let me lock this up in the store room first?" "No, come with. You can see the new digs. Just so you know; I prefer bat-cave to top-secret lair, thank you very much. But, if anything ever happens, I need someone other than Mrs. Kitty to know things I don't want anyone to know." "That sounds pessimistic. You're going to show me your new place?" "Yeah, but we have to be quick. My palace awaits. Just watch the hallway for anyone?" "Dude, this is like 20 feet away from your last place." "Yeah, but you didn't find it." Josh coughs at the smell of dust and stale sweat as they enter. He looks around as his eyes adjust to the dim light. "Yeah I know it smells. Trust me; it beats every other option hands down so I can cope with the smell." "Is that your bed?" "Yeah." "You bundled up goalie pads? I'd never have thought to do that." "When I forget Bailey's bed, it's actually comfortable. Way better than the last one. Here, you can use those hooks and that bench to dry your equipment on. We can sneak it out sometime after school or you can just leave it here." "What about yours?" "I'll hang it later, either when yours is dry or you take it." "So aside from his bed, how are things with the boyfriend anyways?" "Crappy. His parents are on my case at work for documentation I can't give them. I have a good feeling that once the summer comes and they have Ronnie trained up, either he or you are going to be taking my job. Maybe even sooner." "Shitty." "Yeah, and just yesterday Mrs. Regan told me they don't want me sneaking into his room at night unless it's a weekend, and midnight is too late to come over. So basically they put an end to things." "No more nookie for Nev-Nev?" "Since you ask; yeah, no more sex for the virgin homo-hobo." "Sorry dude." "It's okay. I'm going to ask him out on a date, but I don't really have the money. His birthday is coming up and I was going to take him out for that anyways. I just don't have a clue what to get him. I'm so out of touch with the world I don't know what's even in right now." "Ask Brooke or Megan what he wants. If you need some help I can give you some money." "I couldn't. Got your book bag? We should go." "Yeah, I'm good, let's go. Nice set up you made here by the way. I mean it. You're a master; I'd never think twice that this is some kid's home if I didn't know better." "Good. Thanks. There's a spare key for it on Bailey's rooftop if you ever need to grab it. It's hanging off the skylight for the bar." "Thanks for trusting me but I'm not going to use your secret home as a hangout and draw unwanted attention your way." "Josh, this is going to sound creepy, but I need you to know. I have a will done up. Nothing fancy or official. It's in my book bag at all times in case anything ever happens." "Why do you sound like you're dying or about to disappear?" "I'm not. I was going to take off after some drama with Brooke, but I'm staying. Showing you the room, telling you this? Call it putting down roots if you will." "Thanks, but what about your boyfriend." "You've been nice to me for two years and let's face it; you're not prone to overreaction like Bailey. Then there's the fact that he's not going to be happy with me when I buy him a Kenny Rogers cassette from the Wal-Mart bargain-bin for his birthday. " "Look, I know you don't get paid and you live off your tips only. I can spare you some money to get him something. Don't say no. I'll find out what he wants and I'm going to buy it." "NO! Don't you dare. Josh, no offence but I know you guys aren't exactly Beverly Hills-rich either." "If you don't give it to him I'll show up on your date with it and tell him you bought it for him and wanted me to bring it as a surprise. I won't let you weasel out of this." "Please don't. I'll get him something. I just don't know what." "I'll help you Nev. I know they call you Pancakes partly because you were bargaining with them for food when the diner first opened. Yeah, he let that slip one day." "Uh, that's just great." "It's okay buddy. It doesn't change anything, you're still my hero. Speaking of which, by the way; he loves Star Wars. We'll find him something nice but cheap, and you can take him out for dinner and give it to him." "How do you know he loves Star Wars? You've never seen his room, not that he has much on display." "He quotes Star Wars like, every day." "You know, I'm jealous of Kelsey all over again. Except the cheating thing. That would piss me off. If you were my boyfriend and you paid that much attention to random things that people say I'd be so proud. Of course, if you were fucking around on me like you do on her I'd bite your dick off." "Look, I don't cheat on her. Everyone thinks I do, but she knows I'm only banging her." "How would she know that?" "That's between her and me. You, my gay buddy, get to shower with me two mornings a week, but you don't get the juicy details of my sex life." "Okay. I don't want to know. What you call juicy I'd probably call sordid anyways. I'm sorry I thought you were a slut. Call it wishful thinking. It makes not being able to have you easier to deal with." Josh shushes Neville, "Not at school dude. By the way, Kelsey and Tara both think you're looking hot lately! They don't say anything but they both pay you a lot more attention lately. I told you the gym would do you some good. Just never thought you'd fill out so much so quickly." "You should see what I pay for food lately, and I still get hungry. And this is nothing. I don't know if you remember me at the beginning of grade ten. I was probably half a foot shorter but twenty pounds heavier than even now. All muscle too." "I kind of remember." "My waist was a 34 then and my shoulders made me a large or extra large with shirts. I'm even taller now and finally getting back to a 32 waist." "You're looking better, that's for sure. Your baggy layered shirts are hiding a tight midsection that you could show off." Neville's still reminiscing, his distant voice conveys a longing for better days, "You should have seen my brothers. Little Mike was already huge by my age and he just got bigger and bigger. At seventeen, Seth was just as tall but not as big as Mike when I left. He definitely had muscles too, and I was just as built as him then. At my age now, I'm sure I'd be bigger than he was, if I stayed home on the farm." "Well, you look damn near perfect to someone. I could cook in the buff and you-know-who would look right through me to you." "I know. I don't get what you-know-who doesn't see in you, but I won't complain. Your loss is my gain! Not that you want you-know-who." >>).:.(<< After classes Neville heads to a school payphone by the cafeteria and calls the number Cathy provided. "Hello? I was given your number to call. I'm in a pickle here. I need to get my social insurance number so that I can work. But before we get to that, it's complicated. First off I'm a runaway, and homeless. I can give you all my information like my parents address and my date of birth, but I have no proof that I'm me." "No, you're right. I suppose I could be anyone calling and faking it. What if you mailed a replacement card to the address you have on record, and I'll manage to get it somehow. Would that be possible? I mean, I'm not a criminal or anything. You can check; I have a clean record and I doubt I'm listed as a missing person." "Yeah I'm calling from a payphone, your number is toll-free. Why, did you just check your call display? Look, about the information, can I call you back if I decide to give it? On second thought, you know what? Never mind. I value freedom from my parents more than my job, so I'm aced." "Uh, just kidding. Sorry, that's just a lame script I'm supposed to stick to for my stupid group research project. I think that's all I was supposed to ask you guys. Now I'm onto the driver's licence people. Thanks for your help, have a good day ma'am." After hanging up the phone, Neville heads over to the diner to quit. On his way he gets another idea. Maybe the truth will help him out. Bailey pounces on him partway through the kitchen, planting him with a kiss. Neville smiles, "Hey Sunshine!" Bailey beams right back, "Hey my little pineapple!" "You're looking very hot." "Yeah, it's a little warm today." Neville rolls his eyes with a chuckle, "No, I meant the other hot." Bailey tries to recover, "I knew that!" "Your parents upstairs?" "Yeah. Why?" "It's about a solution for my social insurance number." "Sweet," Bailey exclaims. Neville can't find it in himself to correct Bailey. He stops to knock when he reaches the top of the stairs, "Hi." "Hi Neville," Cathy and Jonas both look up to him from the bills they have spread across the kitchen table. "How do I give my notice? I can't get my social insurance number. I've been dragging my heals on it like you've guessed. I'm really sorry I did this to you." Jonas asks, "What's the problem?" "Okay, well it's complicated and I don't want you hating me, but I don't want you getting in trouble for employing me." "Spit it out," Cathy prompts. "Well, I'm sure you know by now there are all kinds of rumours about me. Most aren't worth a second thought, but the truth is that I don't live with my parents. I know that Bailey's already told you though, and I'd bet that he also told you that it has to do with me being gay. You see, what he doesn't know is that we've changed my name so that I don't legally get forced back home, and you happened to find that out Mrs. Regan. That's why they don't have a Neville Reilly on file, yet. So I don't have my stupid SIN card and I won't ask my parents for help because they'd rather kill me and it's all waiting on my eighteenth birthday so that I can legally change my name and make everything right again." Jonas is stuck on one comment, "You're living under an alias?" Neville winces as he thinks, `I guess when you put it that way, yeah. But alias sounds criminal. I prefer to think I'm living under a pseudonym.' Cathy on the other hand tries to calm Neville, "I'm sure it's not that bad, you could call your parents..." "Uh, no. Trust me. I probably sound like an overdramatic teenager to you, but it is that bad. You know I can be less than honest, well less than direct any way, I do try to be honest. Anyways, along with that you also know that I'm not one to get carried away. The sperm-donor and my mom run a close-knit, God-fearing family. I loved my life and my family was awesome, right up until the day they discovered I'm gay. Then I became an abomination in their eyes. It's easier to accept that one of your spitting-image-sons is Devil-spawn than it is to try and understand," Neville punctuates with a frown. Shrugging his shoulders, he adds, "It's just how it is and I don't agree, but what can you do? Getting to know your family, you give me the courage to hope and dream. You restore my faith in people. Thank you for everything you've done for me. You have all been so amazing." Cathy offers, "We can help with your parents. Megan's been living with us for two years because of her own family situation." "Well, I don't know what her situation is but I know mine. I really thought I could somehow make this work but clearly I can't. I can give you back my tip money that I haven't spent. Are you guys going to be in trouble with the government? Do you want me to turn myself in? Would that help or should I just go away? Do you want me to finish out two weeks so you have time to replace me?" Jonas is firm, "We'd take you two week notice, but under the circumstances we might as well just take it now. Two more weeks is just two more weeks of illegal employment. You have to understand that our business, our home, our entire lives are on the line here Neville. If we get investigated we have to look proactive." "I understand. Thank you guys again for everything you've done for me. Is it okay if I still see Bailey, or is it best if I break up with him too?" "He doesn't need the distraction with final exams just around the corner," Cathy states to Jonas, referring to Neville not needing to lose his job before the end of school. "Oh. Okay. Yeah, I'll keep it cool until the summer. Then I'll leave him alone and you can all get on without me messing things up. But that really sucks, you know? I'm pretty sure I really love him. I guess it's better for him in the long run though." Hurt, Neville lets go of the railing he's unconsciously been gripping tightly with both of his hands. His head is already elsewhere as he quickly spins on the ball of one foot so that he can be anywhere else other than here. Realizing Neville's misunderstanding, Jonas tries to correct, "Wait Neville, that's not what we're saying..." Neville doesn't reply, instead he races down the stairs and out the back door before Bailey can see the tears in his eyes. Never has he felt so alone in his whole life as he runs down the alley with Bailey calling out to him from behind. Slowing to shout back, Neville can only say, "Tomorrow okay? We'll talk tomorrow." Picking up speed, he rounds the corner and races down the street, finally slowing when he crosses the next intersection. He's had two years to deal with the rejection from his father. Now as he was finally letting himself get close to people again, he gets shoved away. The first person he's truly in love with is being shut out of his life. This time he doesn't know what to do. In the bleachers behind the school he idly watches a group of younger teens try out for a baseball team in front of him, and a soccer team practice off to his side. Sitting alone with so many people around, he feels invisible in the world while he waits for the speed skating kid inside the arena and his coach to end things for the day, `I can't wait for the end of the ice season to come. Yeah, lacrosse and inline hockey will take over, and if anything, with my luck the arena will get even busier, but I won't be around here much longer anyhow. Maybe I'll take all my money out of the bank and stuff it in a sock and get a get a job down at the docks. Work on a ship headed anywhere, and when I get somewhere I can blend in, just disappear there. There's got to be enough Mexican from mom's side in me for me to blend in. They sure liked English employees at the resort we stayed at in Cancun. Maybe I could get a job at a resort and I'd be set until the day I finally take a long walk out into the ocean and end it all. Oh well, two more weeks of ice inside the arena and then I'll see Josh twice less a week. Life will just be better as I distance myself from everyone and everything again. At least I can avoid Brooke, Megan, and Bailey at school. Only Josh knows where to find me with any regularity. All I have to do is play him right until I can leave this mess I've created behind me.' While stressing over his situation, Neville doses off. Waking half an hour later on the bleachers, Neville notes that the kids are packing up their things and heading home. The odd kid is excited as he tells his parents how he did, the odd kid is looking sad, the rest are too afraid to show their feelings one way or the other. Those in last group are the dangerous ones in Neville's eyes; the ones that are already succumbing to the time honoured tradition of boys growing up to become disconnected, stoic men. Looking to his watch, Neville figures that the kid that practices alone should be done now and changing. He remembers checking the kid out while he showered and dressed, because he was curious just how the other teen hides his penis in the spandex unitard that otherwise leaves nothing to the imagination. Convinced it wasn't a cup concealing what Neville wanted to see, he was sure the kid has to have a penis although his crotch was too smooth and gently curved inside the suit. It took some time and some serious staring as the guy changed, but the answer he was looking for turned out to simply be foam padding stitched into the crotch that modestly masks his younger schoolmate's family endowment, but it sure had Neville curious. `Okay, speed-skater boy who stuffs his pants with sponge so people can't see what you've got, I've spied on your junk. You like to touch it a lot when you change and embarrass yourself when you realize what you're doing, even though you're alone in the room when you shower and change. But right now I don't care about your dick; all I care about for the moment is that you better be done practice and not playing with it. If you aren't already gone, you should be leaving soon. I need to get into my home so that I can start figuring out how to get from homeless-boy here to cabana-boy in Cancun. I could check guys out all day and offer up my bed and ass to whatever gay boy on vacation appreciates my attention. That would be sweet for a while.' >>).:.(<< The next day at school Neville manages to evade Bailey in the first class they share by sneaking in right before the bell and asking to go to the washroom right before the end of the class. He uses the same tactic for his next class which he shares with Bailey, Josh, and Megan. He knows it's not going to work all day, and he curses the school for being so small that one of his two afternoon classes also has Megan in it. As he leaves his second morning class he takes solace in the fact he's made it to lunch without anyone being able to corner him. Without thinking, he makes his way to the weight room by the gymnasium and is spotted by Josh before he realizes it. "I heard you quit," Josh says as they change into shorts. To Josh's polite inquiry Neville expresses, "I don't want to talk about it for now." Josh doesn't bring up the diner or Bailey for the rest of the lunch hour. He does offer an alternative however, "My dad used to work on this potato farm until his body gave out on him. You're almost eighteen right? Your birthday's what, Canada Day?" "No; three days later. This fantastic existence of a so-called-life I'm living started on the Fourth of July. Independence Day, and yeah, the irony isn't lost on me." "You lost me there, but your birthday is close enough for them I'm sure, they're always looking for workers. Pays five bucks an hour and you're guaranteed at least ten hour days, sometimes up to fourteen, and they let you work up to six days in a row and only force you to take one day off." "I can't work for them any more than I can at the diner. I'm not legally entitled to work." "Nev, they don't care. They pay you daily. You get cash at the end of the day. If you suck they send you packing. If you're any good they'll let you stay all week in a bunk in the loft. It's not even minimum wage and they don't pay overtime, but you could do it and make some good coin." "Great. Why don't you do it then?" "I'd like to." "Then let's do it together!" "I can't. Getting the job at the diner was the first interview I've ever had after applying to places for two years. If I quit the diner for the summer they'll hire someone else and won't need me in the fall. I don't want to give it up for some quick summer cash and not have it through the school year. I'll make less money for the summer but I'll make way more in the long run." "That's some serious cash you're talking about. I mean, it doesn't really sound all that shit-hot if it's under the table, but whatever. Illegal pay to an illegal worker, beggars can't be choosers." "I'll get you the family's number from my dad." "Thanks." Partway through the lunch hour Megan walks into the weight room, "Bad form Pancakes." "Bad form? How would you know, you don't lift weights," Neville snarls. "Hook? The movie? Robin Williams as Peter Pan, Dustin Hoffman as Captain Hook, Julia Roberts as Tinkerbell? The lost boys would call out bad form when someone stepped out of line? You know; bad form Pan! Only in your case, bad form Pancakes." It hurts him to be standoffish with Megan, he really likes her, but he still answers distantly, "Never saw it, sorry." "I'll give you two a minute," Josh says and walks over to talk with a couple other guys. "Holy shit, nice," Megan says loud enough for Josh to hear as she ogles his shirtless body. As Josh smiles and continues to walk away, Neville slips up in his resolve to be composed and distant. His voice carries too much friendliness, "I know, no argument here!" Eye contact with Megan makes it clear they both realize that he's already cracked. He relents, "Look, I can explain, okay. Wait, what am I supposed to be Peter Pancakes to your Tinkerbell?" "Try you're the Tinkerbell to my Pan. So, what the fuck happened?" "I guess you know everything by now. Can we not talk about it here?" "Want to skip computers with me?" Neville casts an askance glance, "No, you know I don't like to skip classes." "After school then?" "I assume you work tonight, now that I don't? I sort of don't want to go back your place and the diner just yet." "When then?" "Sunday maybe?" "What's it going to be, Sunday or maybe? You know we don't have your number, and the address you gave was the school's. Other than your lady friend's truck, we don't know where to find you." "Maybe we could meat up for breakfast or something, but not at the diner. I feel real bad for what I did to the Regan's and I can't face them right now." "How about that Castello's place?" "Uh, no. I don't like their food and the guy there is kind of mean," Neville says, still not wanting to eat in a restaurant where he used to beg for scraps, "Maybe you could just pack whatever you want and we could meet in the bleachers in the field behind school? We don't need to do food." "Peake's Quay at noon it is." "C'mon Megan, no. I won't be there. I'm back on more of a brown-bag budget. Bleachers, just outside of here at 11. And if you have to bring food so be it," Neville says and heads for the men's locker room. >>).:.(<< Past midnight Neville finds himself restless after cleaning the locker rooms and having a shower. Instead of working at the diner, he spent his night finishing all of his assigned homework for the weekend and re-reading the first chapters of each textbook. Every now and then he gets an urge to get out on the ice in the middle of the night. Sometimes he just skates under the four lights that are permanently on. Sometimes he slaps a puck around when the nets are left on the ice. Either way, out on the dimly lit ice he's usually able to tire himself out enough to go to sleep. With the nets off the ice he still decides to throw on his gloves with his skates and practice some puck control, doing basic drills his father taught he and his brothers. Illuminating the face of his watch, he sees it's 1:19 am. He knows his anxiety is too much tonight, and so before he even breaks a sweat he stretches out along one of the odourous players benches and tries to stimulate himself for the third since school ended for the day. It's now 1:32. If Josh's hockey bag were still in his room he'd rummage through it and worship each piece of equipment. Alas he only has visions of the younger boys from the baseball field yesterday to fuel his imagination and it doesn't cut it anymore. Now that he's been intimate with Bailey the lesser developed guys don't excite him. Other than Josh, none of the guys from morning shinny inspire him as much as Bailey either. Minutes later on the player's bench, while trying with Bailey in mind to coax release from himself, Neville's frustration builds. He checks his watch again at 1:42, `What's wrong with me I'm zero for three tonight. I'm not even eighteen, how the heck can I be having problems jacking it? It's not like I'm having performance anxiety. I'm the only audience to the show, and the view from here is still damn fine. So why won't it shoot for me? This is driving me crazy.' He doses off with his erection in his hands. Checking his watch when he wakes again, it's now 1:58, `Oh well, It's not like I even want to ejaculate anyways. Masturbation sucks when there are things Bailey and I could be doing that are way more amazing. Even just falling asleep in each other's arms is more awesome than beating off. Screw it, here's hoping he doesn't freak out, but he's about to get a late night visit.' When he reaches the top of the fire escape he stops to look in through Bailey's open window and admire his boyfriend. It's now 2:17 in the morning. Sprawled out flat on his stomach, Bailey's body is tempting to Neville. Once he's quietly slipped inside, Neville drinks in the sight of his boyfriend. The duvet is pushed down to Bailey's knees on this warm spring night. The thin flannel of his sleeping pants still manage to mask the form of his legs, but the two round mounds of his butt are looking fine to Neville, even through the material. The contrast of light and shadow details the back of his shoulders and smooth curves down to his waistband. In the light his shoulders are flesh coloured, and the ring of his neck shows a hint of sunburn that matches his lower arms. Past the slope of his ribcage, the small of his back is grey in the light except for his spine, which shows colour as each vertebrae sticks out slightly and catches the light. He's temporarily mesmerized by the contrasting terrain of Bailey's smooth back. Looking more closely, Neville can spot a double waistband. Knowing the second waistband he smiles. Stripping down to a baggy pair of crisp cotton boxers that he stole near the end of the hockey season, Neville slowly gets into bed. Trying to be quiet, the crinkles of his boxers sound too loud to him. Cautious not to wake Bailey, ever so slowly he edges towards his sleeping beau and finally spoons him. The contact elicits an unconscious response and Bailey turns onto his side and presses back against him. Building the nerve to drape his arm over Bailey takes a few more minutes, and once he does he rests his hand just under Bailey's chin. For his own benefit he starts slowly tracing the lines of Bailey's neck. The massaging effect brings Bailey to near wakefulness. Having stopped because he's drifted to sleep himself, he's woken by Bailey's whisper, "Don't stop, that was nice." "You're not mad that I snuck in?" Wrapping his hand around Neville's cotton-clad erection, Bailey shares, "I'm as happy as you are. Just don't sneak this thing into me and we're good." "I don't know, might be hard to resist. You're wearing the Calvin Klein jockstrap under these. I might be tempted by the easy access and slip these down," Neville quietly teases as he tugs at Bailey's pyjamas. Bailey lifts his hips to allow Neville to lower his pyjama pants. Giving off a mixed signal he states, "I'm not ready to take you yet." "I'm ready for you whenever you're ready to slip it in me. No pressure, just saying. Whenever the time's right, you have my permission," Neville tries to give his hushed tone a husky quality. Using only his feet, Bailey works methodically to completely remove his sleeping pants. As he does, Neville's erection escapes the open fly of his boxers and ends up nestled between Bailey's bare thighs. He adjusts himself until it's comfortable for both of them and then runs his hand along the material of Bailey's pouch that's being stretched by its aroused contents, "What's up with this anyway?" Embarrassment is evident as Bailey meekly explains, "Sometimes I like to feel sexy." "You are sexy. So much so I just had to hold you tonight," Neville whispers. "Aww, I love you." "I love you too." Holding each other they peacefully fall asleep. Soon after the pressure and friction cause enough pleasure for Neville to wake and realize he's releasing the pent up orgasm that eluded him all night. To Bailey's gasp of realization he offers, "Sorry, it just kind of happened on its own." Bailey cranes his neck to kiss Neville and settles his head back into his pillow. His heart starts beating faster as he decides to just leave his lover's sticky mess and rigid penis between his legs and drift back to sleep. His insecurities lessen slightly as his thoughts soar, `This really is love!' Waking alone in the morning, finding himself naked brings an odd smile to Bailey. Neville's boxers are hanging from the doorknob to his fire escape landing. He thinks back on the nocturnal visit with delight, `What a little thief in the night! How does he manage that? Sneaks into my house, sneaks into my bed, has a wet dream between my legs and later he steals my sexy underwear off me while I sleep. Then he tops it off by sneaking out the door on me and is gone before I wake. And I love all of it!' >>).:.(<< "I thought it was Megan that was going to grill me today over having to quit. I didn't want to get into this with you because you family has been so awesome to me and I screwed you guys over so royally." "So you were going to avoid me face to face and just sneak into my bed from time to time, blow your load on me and steal the underwear right off me?" "Uh, yeah. And let me tell you, that took some doing! I also gave you a blow job for a bit, but when you didn't wake I thought it was a little too creepy," Neville throws out there and watches Bailey blush, knowing they're both thinking back to the first night they slept together when Bailey felt him up while he pretended to be asleep. He wonders what shade of red Bailey's sunburned face and neck would turn if he found out Neville had woken that night and allowed it to continue. "And breaking into my house all the time and appearing in my bed unannounced, isn't a little creepy? I mean, some boyfriends actually go to bed together, you know! Giving me a blow job in the middle of the night to make up for blowing you load between my legs, then sneaking off with my sexy underwear is kinky. And it's not really creepy, having you slip into my bed either, I think that's kinky too!" "Well, I figured if I stole your little jockstrap and wear it to bed with you, it might give you a little incentive to take me up on my open invitation some time. If you aren't too mad at me for quitting, and well, for working illegally in the first place. Your parents don't want me messing up your life, but I can't let you go, so it's your call." "Speaking of which, that's all bullshit! I don't get paid. Brooke and Megan don't collect paycheques. They're doing this because they want me to be focused and they think being with you will drive me crazy again. That has to be it." "No, I quit because I don't have documentation to work, and I'm not going to get any until I'm 18." "That's just a couple months away. You can apply now and you'll be 18 by the time it gets here." "It's not that easy or I would have. I can't apply until I'm at least 18 for reasons we can get into another time, so it's not going to work. It's okay though, it just gives us more time to spend together when you're not working." "And my parents aren't going to pay you? How many hours have you worked since you started?" "318." "What's minimum wage?" "I think 5.60." "So that's what, fifteen hundred, two thousand? Knowing you, you've already got it to the penny because you're smart and stay on top of details." "Ballpark; 1780," Neville answers. Giving in to Bailey's prompting he adds, "And 80 cents." "That's almost half a year of college my parents are ripping you off on." "They're not ripping me off. I knew that was how it was going to have to be when I took the job. It's my fault, not theirs. I was working for the tips anyways." "How much did you make in tips?" "Not counting the items the O'Keefe's always brought me, just over 2600." "Like you don't know it to the penny. How much did you make?" "Here's the breakdown. I worked 70 shifts altogether for a total of exactly 318 hours. Before tax my paycheques would have been almost 1800 like I just told you. Look, I still have more than 1800 of my tips in my account, so all things considered, I've really done alright Bailey. From my point of view, that's exactly one hundred percent better than what I had before." "I don't care. It's still not right. You should sue my parents." "How about I just give their worked up son a birthday blow job and call it even? Then you can give me one sometime and that will be like the interest on my investment." "I'm and investment?" "Yeah. You're a huge investment of my heart. You still have no idea how much of a gamble allowing myself to act on my feelings for you is." "Right, that again. You tell me that all the time but you don't ever tell me anything." "I know. So what do you want for your birthday? I don't know what to get you and Wal-Mart doesn't have any sexy thongs to go with your sexy jockstrap. Oh, and I want to take you to dinner at Off Broadway or Pat and Willy's Cantina. From what I've seen, they both are amazing inside. We can go right after school one night maybe when you aren't working, or whenever you want, and maybe if we have time we can go to this ice cream shop over by Peake's boardwalk before your curfew," Neville clearly diverts the conversation. "I don't know what I want for my birthday. Maybe buy me your favourite CD. I didn't care for that song at all at first, but now I listen to it all the time," Bailey says. Neville checks, "Oh yeah? I forget which song was that?" "Testing me are you? `Believe' by Savatage. The guys aren't pretty, but I see why you like the song. To me it's you. Partly because that's the only song I even know you like, partly because is just seems like your kind of song. Like the words have meaning to you." Unsure why he's embarrassed, Neville confirms, "They do. I told you they do." "I know you did. That's the only reason I bothered to listen. Every time I see you now, part of that song plays in my head." "Cool." So what I want is your favourite CD or the CD with your favourite song of all time, and that way I'll know you even better," Bailey says. Looking around at the people in the park for their kids baseball and soccer games, he wishes he could just reach over and kiss Neville in public. "Doesn't sound like that much of a gift to me, but if that's what you want I'll see what I can do," Neville agrees, laughing at himself as the crack he made to Josh about a Kenny Rogers cassette a few days reverberates in his mind. "Off Broadway looks funky inside, but expensive. I've also wanted to try Pat and Willy's. Let's go there," Bailey suggests, even though he's not a fan of Tex-Mex. The look on Bailey's face reminds Neville of a random conversation they had on south-western food, "Crap! I just remembered, we both know you won't like the food there. Off Broadway it is. What days do you have off next week, or do you want to do the following week, after your birthday?" [to be continued] >>).:.(<< Hey guys and girls: It looks like I'll be publishing this story in book format early in the new year! I'm excited, but I'd like something from anyone who's interested; I need a picture for the cover. I'm looking for a very family/pg13 picture (fully clothed at least from the waist down and nothing suggestive an absolute must!) that could work for Neville, or one that could be Bailey and Neville. (Neville - tall and lanky, short curly blonde / Bailey - stockier with brown hair) You must must MUST! be 18 or older, and the guy(s) in the picture must be too if it is not you. I will need full consent of whoever is pictured. If you are interested DO NOT send pictures, please email me first for details @ phantomscorpio77@gmail.com. Thanks! :) I've published In This Cruel World! It's available in paperback and e-book formats worldwide through Amazon, Kindle and many other online retailers. Check my myspace for direct links: www.myspace.com/phantomscorpio77.