Date: Thu, 23 Dec 2010 23:32:16 -0500
From: Jade <phantomscorpio77@gmail.com>
Subject: Gay/High School : In the Shadow of Our Lives - Wings of Tomorrow 1

Copyright © 2010 by Jaden Lane, All Rights Reserved.  No part of this book
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>>).:.(<<


In the Shadows of Our Lives
Part 2 - Wings of Tomorrow I
~ Venus or Bust [An End Is Just a New Begining] ~


"We're heading for Venus, and still we stand tall,
'Cause maybe they've seen us, and welcome us all."
The Final Countdown, By Europe.


>>).:.(<<

JON

It is said that the end of one thing is just the beginning of something
new.  Ain't that the truth!  With one person in particular, it's time to
shut the closet door behind me and start a more open and honest
relationship.  Well, here I go.

Out of the blue I surprise my friend Tim, "So, you're not a virgin?"

He tries to act prudish and wholesome, "Who says that?"

It's late September 2000 in a lower income area of Houston.  I'm in grade
12, my final year of teenage-angst riddled high school.  We're watching the
Law and Order season premiere; the one with Dianne Wiest being introduced
as the fictional District Attorney of New York City, by the real mayor of
New York, Rudy Guiliani.

At first ignoring that it has returned from commercial break, I dig a
little deeper with Tim, "You.  You said you've managed to set a couple
girls worlds on fire when I came out to you.  You know of the two guys I've
slept with.  Kay, it's more like four and a half, if we're really counting.
You're the half because you just won't give it up to me, yet.  Either way,
you know my dirty laundry.  Ergo, I think it's only fair that you share
too.  So, who've you slept with?"

With a pensive look on his face he seems to agree, "Hmmm.  Who have I been
with?  Well, for starters, you only count as a quarter I guess, because you
got thrown out at first base.  Sorry about that."

I protest, teasingly putting a hand on his thigh and pretending to slowly
move it towards his crotch, "Screw that Timbo!  I at least got to second
base with you.  What do you call that weird stuff with jacking off in your
bedroom back in New Orleans, after I wore your jock on my bare skin?  And
how many times have you pantsed me over the last year in your pool?  C'mon,
admit it; you jack off to my naked image late at night, doncha?"

My hand comes to a rest a mere inch short of feeling his goods.  I'm one
little inch from his goodies.  Letting my hand stay between his thighs just
long enough for there to be no doubt as to who won this game of chicken, he
casually removes my hand and gives me a mock glare.

Trying his best to hide that the corners of his mouth are curling up into a
smile, he acts all stern and pretends to lecture me, "Good grief
Cheesedick!  Don't you know baseball dating?  A kiss is first base, petting
is second base, oral is third base, and baby making is a home run.  Sorry,
but you only managed to get me to first base.  And you technically stole
first, off a foul ball no less, if we're sticking to the analogy!  Let's
get one thing straight, you kissed me.  I did not kiss back.  What you and
I have isn't the same as with your boyfriends, it's just homoerotic tension
brought on by your fantasies of my hot body."

I lean in to Tim, my face inches from his.  He gets the hint I'm playing as
he again tries to hide the grin that returns.  Continuing the ruse I lock
eyes with him, "Oh.  Sorry to be naive.  Then you, the sexy, hopelessly
straight, real second baseman threw me out at first base according to those
rules.  But at least I got that far and you can't deny it!  And as much as
I hate to burst your straight bubble, you sure as shit did kiss back!"

"Tim protests, "Did not.  If my lips moved it's because I was shouting at
you to stop!"

It's the closest I'll ever get to anything sexual with Tim, so I don't let
it go, "Oh no, you're not getting out of this so easily!  I promise this is
the only time I'll ever say it out loud, but you did kiss back, right up
until we both pulled away in absolute shock.  And like an hour later, after
I came out to you, right over there in that very kitchen, you gave me a
kiss on the lips and told me I'm okay.  Although I'll never tell another
soul, tell me, what other boy can boast that they got to kiss Tim
Matthews?"

"Check and mate.  You are the one and only lucky duck that got to kiss my
awesomeness.  Well played," Tim concedes.

Only because I know he's one hundred percent cool with me, my sexuality,
and my feelings towards him, I add, "And for the record?  In my fantasies,
in some alternate reality, you and I?  We're the home run kings baby!"

Tim cranes his neck to look around me at the television, "Well hopefully
for me, in that reality, I'm into it and not tied up.  Otherwise that just
makes alternate you a rapist."

"Hm, kinky.  At least in this reality God blessed me with you and your
ability to deal with the fact that my love for you is equal, like dead
even, with my respect for your unfortunate sexual orientation," I say with
a wink.

He blows me a kiss and then pushes my face out of his, "Yeah, yeah.  Well
hit another home run for us in your bed tonight then, while you mind phases
into one of those other realities.  But in this reality or any other, do
not make me explain to Paul Hunter why it's my name you scream out at the
top your lungs as the two of you consummate your marriage!"

In the rematch of our metaphoric chess game, he just took me out with his
first move.  I let the Paul comment slide, suddenly shy again that I'm so
obvious to my friend.

Tim backs off and instead boasts his male bravado, "As for me, as you
originally asked?  The farthest I ever got with Jenna was second base.
Drew Butler had the team over for a party and I almost got her to third,
but I chickened out.  I think we both chickened out.  Then she decided I
was too much of a jock for her and she ditched me.  I've hit home runs with
Stacey when she was still with Hunter, and Tania when she and Neil were
fighting once."

I try to think back.  I knew Tim was dating Jenna Scott over the summer
between grades 10 and 11, and through the Millennium New Year.  I didn't
pay much attention at the time because he was more a friend through my
boyfriend at the time, rather than an actual friend of mine.  Back then
Michael Edwards was my de-facto, supposed best friend.  I say de-facto
because we only became good friends when his cousin and my former best
friend, Phil Edwards, moved away.  I was never Michael's best friend, but
he was my best friend.  I say supposed because in time he proved to me just
how opposite of a friend he was.

More so with Tim, at the time I was starting things off in a secret
relationship with my first boyfriend, Daniel Rice.  I developed tunnel
vision towards Daniel; he was my entire world.  So my guess is that Tim was
with Jenna around the time Daniel and I were turning our plutonic
relationship into something more sexual.  Daniel's about all I remember of
that summer.  A far cry from now, last year seems like a distant memory.

Now Tim is my best friend, Phil thinks he's too good for me and long ago
dropped me like a bad habit, Daniel is a complete ass and ignoring me in
St. Louis, and I hate Michael.  Since Tim's family moved to New Orleans, he
tried to get an apartment here in Houston in order to stay and finish his
last year of school with all of his friends.  His sticking it out in
Houston also had a lot to do with the baseball scouts knowing of him here.

The whole apartment deal inadvertently fell through thanks to me.  When
that happened, right at the beginning of summer vacation, Tim left to stay
with his family in New Orleans.  I thought he was gone from my life for
good too, not just for the summer.  Instead he surprised me and now lives
at my place, with my version of a family, to complete his last year of high
school.

Losing Tim would have been the last straw for me.  I would have just given
up on trying to have friends and become a complete recluse.  I pat his leg,
"You're the best."

"I'm glad to be here too," Tim says, knowing I've gone all introspective.

We both drop the chatter and focus on the show which is switching over to
the DA side of the story.  We let the conversation end when Dianne Wiest is
introduced into the series as Nora Lewin, the fictional District Attorney
of New York, replacing the Adam Schiff character portrayed for 10 years by
Stephen Hill.

As much as I love the show, the new character momentarily puts me off, so
my mind wanders again.  I knew of Jenna Scott, and if I thought about it at
all, I guess I would have thought Tim was screwing her.  After all, banging
babes is the ultimate goal of those whacky, straight, teenage slabs of
flesh I drool over, isn't it?

While I'm thinking of Jenna, I wonder what happened to her; she used to be
a valley girl back then, now she looks punk and acts goth.  She looks
confused in whatever image she's trying to pull off, and it burns me when
people say she's a rocker chick because they group me in with her like
we're tight or something.  After three years of school together, I couldn't
pick her voice out a pair, let alone a crowd.  We've never talked.

As for my image, if I have one; I'm a rocker.  Yeah, despite Tim's attempts
to spice my wardrobe up with some trendy labels, my image is that of a
rocker, bordering on punk rock when I wear my wallet that attaches to a
chain and a studded leather cuff or collar.  Mostly though it's just a lot
of vintage rock band t-shirts and new t-shirts, hoodies and such for some
of the older bands I love, and some t-shirts for more current bands like
The Offspring or whatever.

But yeah, back to Jenna.  I know Tim used to be with her.  I didn't however
know about Stacey Smith or Tania Crosby.  Those two are best friends, and
to the best of my knowledge have each only had one long term relationship
each.  Tania and Neil Anderson seem like they have been together since
grade 9.  By some accounts, Stacey and Paul Hunter are still together.
Others say their three year relationship is over.  Still, other people say
that they broke up a year ago.  At least I know firsthand from Paul that he
and Stacey are done.

So, both were very sticky situations for Tim.  He's is hot as hell; he
could get any girl he wants.  Why was he diddling with his friends'
girlfriend, and sleeping with Stacey when she was still with Paul?  Is it
some sort of hetero male dominance thing that I don't get?  Why doesn't he
just get a girl of his own or admit that Nat Wilson and he are like Romeo
and Juliet?

As soon as the show breaks for commercial again, I ask, "Stacey and Tania
but no Nat?  She's way nicer, and even I know she's hotter.  Seriously, you
guys are so into each other I swear you mumble her name at least a hundred
times when I hear you beating off at night!  Why don't you just ask her, or
do I have to do it for you?"

Oh, I've hit a nerve.  Tim counters quickly, "It's not like that with her.
Nat's just a friend, totally plutonic.  Like us.  She was too much like a
sister when we were younger.  So, no we're not at it like bunnies.  You're
the one she had a crush on, but you had no clue.  So how about you?  When
are you going to ask Hunter to be your boyfriend, or do I have to be the
man and do it for you?  And for the record, it's been a long hard few weeks
but I haven't felt comfortable doing that here yet, thank you very much!"

My best friend feels on the spot so I choose to exploit this rare
opportunity, "What?  You haven't jacked off since New Orleans?  Yeah
right!"

"I just feel weird doing it here with your mom and Coach Maynes downstairs,
and apparently you in earshot, even if everyone's asleep.  Almost as weird
as talking about it with you at all.  On second thought forget about it
Cheesedick," Tim says before clamming up.

"Hahaha, so you do play with my favourite penis in bed at night!  Does it
help you get to sleep?  Oh, you're blushing," I say to Tim's reddening
cheeks.  He refuses to acknowledge my taunts.

Unsuccessful at baiting him any further, I switch to another point of
interest to me: Paul Hunter.  I let out my fears, "What if it's all a
mistake and we're totally wrong and he's not into guys at all, let alone
me?"

"Then I offer your other crush the option of a tight lip or a fat lip.  But
don't worry about it; you'll see what the rest of us see.  He's totally
into you.  Even in your heavy metal t-shirts, you're cute Cheesedick.  I'm
sure the boys want you as much as the girls.  I know he looked at you.
I've already told you; when you guys suddenly stopped chasing each other
like lost little puppies, I was convinced that you had finally hooked up,"
Tim never shields the truth with me now; he trusts I can handle his
honesty.

I love him all the more for it.  That I can talk to him so openly is such a
blessing.  I truly feel lucky to call him my best friend, so I don't hold
back, "I'm not into the two tone messy-spike hairdo he has right now, but
it does make him look hot.  I'm glad he grew the sideburns back in a bit
though.  What do you think?"

"Well, for starters, that I wouldn't know how to kiss him without getting
razor burn.  He has real stubble unlike your peach fuzz.  Yeah, that would
be a deal breaker.  Then if he wanted to do the bump and grind without
clothes on, if he wasn't good in the sack, I'd have to dump his sorry ass.
And I'd be all worried that he'll grow a hairy back.  I don't even like
guys, but thanks to Anderson I still hate hairy backs.  Other than that, I
don't know.  What do you want me to say?  He's not my type," Tim
sarcastically answers.

"Kay, fair enough.  Getting back to your type, what's really up with Nat
and you?" I ask.

Tim drops his bravado, "If I knew, I promise you I'd tell you.  Every gory,
heart crushing detail.  I can't get her past the `it'll ruin our
friendship' argument.  She doesn't want us to change, and I kinda
understand.  She's like my other girlfriend...only neither of you put out
for me!"

"I wouldn't want to ruin the friendship," I jest.

I get a slap to the chest and then thrown into a headlock for my smart-ass
behavior.  I let him have his fun against my non resistance.  He wrestles
me off the couch and onto my stomach on the floor.  The headlock becomes
something else as one arm is looped around my neck and his other arm is
pulling an ankle back and up towards my head.  When he tires of the
submission move he's trying out, he lets go of me and we get up.

I give him the flimsiest of hugs before we sit down, re-establishing the
socially expected divide of space between us on the couch.  I think he
almost hugs me back without thinking.  Fully knowing the answer, I ask for
possibly the hundredth time, "You're sure you're okay with me?"

He rubs my leg like a parent soothing a child, "I'm as comfortable with you
as you are, maybe more.  Just no public moves like that one or else people
will really be talking about you."

The show has already started again.  I've figured out in the past month
that Tim gets totally engrossed when he's watching something and won't talk
during a show.  He waits for a commercial break, the last one of the show,
and then asks me, "So what really happened with Blondie?  Why's Chris out
of the picture now anyway?"

"Honestly?" The word escapes while I am more thinking out loud than asking
him if he wants the truth.

He answers anyway, "Well duh!  Yeah, honestly."

I offer my thoughts on the subject, "You.  Sort of, anyway.  Don't take it
the wrong way; I know you're not gay.  I didn't leave him for you.  Not
really anyway.  It's just that I wanted to tell you about it a million
times.  You know, that I like guys.  And then like a million times more
when we were at your place in New Orleans.  Then on the drive back here.
But I didn't.  I wanted to tell everyone, at some point.  It just wasn't
fair to him that I wasn't out and was hiding him."

"So you guys broke up because you were keeping him a poorly guarded secret?
We already knew.  You weren't that careful," Tim points out.

I sigh, "Pretty early on that put a lot of tension we didn't see between
us, but he understood and never pressured me much.  I think we were
breaking up already for other reasons anyhow.  We're still friends.  And
now because you know about me he doesn't have to be a secret anymore, and
we don't have to fear what'll happen if he comes over.  He wants to meet
you, see for himself if you are worthy of the pedestal I portray you on.
But no, I think as mostly compatible as we were, we just weren't totally
compatible."

This puzzles him, "How so."

I almost start to ask him if he really wants to know, but catch myself
knowing he'll say yes even if he isn't sure where I'm going.  I can feel my
cheeks reddening, "Kay, here goes.  If it grosses you out just say so.
When a guy does a girl, all the mechanics are worked out for you.  You
obviously know who's going to put what where."

I pause to gauge his reaction, he just nods.

I continue, "Well with two guys, someone's going to be putting something
somewhere."

Again I pause, letting it sink in and hope he starts talking about the
Texas Ranger's chances at making it as the wildcard team this year.
Instead he shrugs his shoulders and nods again.  I go on, "Kay, well let's
just say that we both wanted to be doing the same thing."

"And that would be?" Tim prods.  It doesn't at all shock me that he is so
open minded.  I just don't know how to tell him that I want to take it up
the ass a lot more than I feel a desire to give it.

I accidentally educate Tim a little, "Well, there are tops and bottoms, and
we both prefer the same.  Anything more than that is too personal unless
you're going to go to bed with me."

Tim lets that one go without comment, but what comes next is worse.  I
guess somehow he read a tell off of me and figured out I'm a bottom.  He
takes control of the conversation, "I'll have to check if Hunter's a top."

If I was red before, I am probably now ashen white.  Now the subject
change.  I don't feel humiliated, but I feel embarrassed all the same.  If
there's a middle road between the two, I am walking it right now.  It's
real personal information Tim just guessed at.  If this conversation were a
sporting game I'd have spent the entire game on the defensive.  At this
point in the metaphorical game, I don't want to even score so much as just
deflect the one sided attention.  In order to do so I mock lick my lips and
wink, "Totally didn't mean to notice, but this talk has you boned up.  Need
any help?"

"Whatever Cheesedick." Tim slaps me and we start to wrestle again.  Shortly
thereafter I am in a Bret Hart sharpshooter and he's toying with me, "I
thought you just said you wouldn't want to ruin the friendship.  Would it
help you understand that I don't care you go for dick if I actually let you
suck mine?"

"Only if I can rim your sweet ass too," I suggest to no reaction.  Kay,
we've reached the boundary.  We both know that I check him out.  We both
know that he is completely disinclined to guys.  We both know that if we
ever gave in and something like me giving him a blow job happened, that I
would never be able to talk to him again.  He lets me go from the
submission maneuver and casually adjusts himself as I roll onto my back.
"You are impossible.  Fucking impossible, you know that?  Here I am
spilling everything and you are so calm.  I pretend to offer sex with you
and you're all casual, you just adjust yourself in your shorts like I'm
just another straight guy here.  Nothing phases you."

"I've got a dick.  You've got a dick.  I like pussy, you like dick.  All
jokes aside, we both know two dicks you'd like to get to know.  I just hope
poor Hunter's dick doesn't disappoint because mine's off limits," Tim
reveals.

That ends that conversation.  We missed the ending of Law and Order.  We
don't know if Jack McCoy (Sam Waterson) actually won or lost this one.  We
talk about the show and his fictitious ability as a lawyer, and about
Lennie Briscoe, (Jerry Orbach's character) and his new partner Ed Green
(played by Jesse L. Martin) who joined last year.  We talk about the new
dynamic with Briscoe and Green and reminisce about Rey Curtis (Benjamin
Bratt's departed character).  We're undecided about the new D.A., but both
gush over Angie Harmon's portrayal of Abbie Carmichael until the phone
rings.

Tim answers on half a ring, expecting the long distance ring to be his
parents.  Instead it's Candy and Tim jokes to her that we were just talking
about another hot brunette when she called.  They talk for a few minutes
before I even clue in that it's the middle sister of my three older sisters
that has called from whatever port the cruise ship she's working on has
docked at.  I talk to her all of a minute as I walk the cordless phone to
my mother, who's working on a crossword at the table while Larry is
studying some notes he has on some other high school's football team.

From there Tim empties the Brita water jug in the fridge while I crack open
a new bottle of cola.  I coax Bandit inside for the night with a treat
while Tim head upstairs for the bathroom and then bed.  I use the bathroom
next and am au natural, in bed with the lights out, when Tim knocks on my
door.  (I keep the door closed over because I do sleep in the nude.)

"Yeah," I answer.

After a pause he says, "Ah, never mind, it's nothing."

A little louder I offer, "What?  Come in, 'kay."

Tim comes in and flicks on the light.  He's got his ball cap on and a white
undershirt and his navy blue pair of Fruit of the Loom boxer briefs.  They
look so good against his creamy white skin where his legs aren't tanned,
bunched up in his crotch as they are when he sits on the corner of my bed.

"What's up," I ask.

"How do I get a girl to like me as more than a friend?  You've gone to the
next step with guys, how do you get them to," Tim asks my advice as he
switches from sitting on the edge of my bed to face me, crossed legged by
my feet as I pull myself up into a somewhat sitting, but not revealing
position.  I think it's at this point that I've got some definitive
confirmation that things actually are O.K. between us for sure.

"What do you mean?" I ask, suggesting, "It's the same as you getting those
girls to sleep with you, but easier because it's more romantic and all that
stuff that girls like."

Looking more at my chin or neck than my eyes, he reveals, "Yeah, well about
that...um, I'm sorta like, a virgin."

Being dumb for a second, I inquire, "What about Stacey and Tania?"

Tim looks away and sighs, "Virgin, Jon.  Like stranded at second base.  No
Tania, no Stacey.  Together for half a year and still no third base with
Jenna.  You do the math.  I get too nervous.  There's a reason people say
Neil and I were together, and now that you and I are."

I can't help but ask, "Then why'd you say that about them?  About Stacey
and Tania?"

Tim rolls his eyes, "I'm telling you the truth now."

A part of me wants to ask if this is a joke.  Another part of me wants to
think that he's being honest right now.  And yet another part of me knows
his body language enough to recognize that he's hiding something.  I go
with the second thought; that he's being honest now, and dismiss my
paranoia, "But why?"

He's quiet when he answers, "Because it's way harder for you, and you've
still been with four guys.  I kind of feel like something's wrong with me
that I haven't bagged my first girl yet.  Let it go?"

"Timbo, you're a stud.  You're good looking, have a killer body, and really
nice boy parts.  I know you're not a pig with plans to bed the whole
cheerleading squad, but I figured you of all people would have slept with a
girl.  What's holding you back?"

Tim shakes his head, "I guess it's partly because I'm scared.  I just never
know what to say or do.  If there's even a chance, I panic.  I chicken out,
always have."

"Well then, to be honest, you're asking the wrong guy.  I never instigate
anything.  In my mind I do, but in reality I am always the one waiting for
a signal, or for the other guy to take charge and start things off.  You've
kind of figured out I'm a bottom.  For me anyways, that means I'm
submissive.  Once things get started I go with the flow and see what
happens.  Sorry I'm of no help," I admit.

"Well, thanks anyways.  As for the matter of virginity, I know I don't have
to ask this of you, but nobody else needs to know.  You know," He suggests.

"No worries.  Our secret," I agree.

I'm guessing by his body language that he hoped I had an answer for him and
is now regretting revealing his inadequacy to me.  Feeling vulnerable, he
rests his hands over his basket.  I'm doing my best to not steal any
glances down that way, especially not where his thighs disappear into the
soft cuffs of the boxer-briefs.  He knows I have an underwear fetish, and I
have an attraction to him.  Putting his hands casually over his junk
doesn't exactly stop my growing erection.

I can't just leave him hanging though while I take a mental picture, I have
to take the bull by the reins.  My tent is becoming obvious so I don't
bother being discreet.  I press it down through my sheets and trap it
between my thighs, pointing out, "See.  You have that reaction in people.
If you're afraid of not being good enough or something, I can promise you,
we all feel that way.  Just pretend I'm a girl in front of you right now.
While you're worried about not being any good at sex, I'm looking at you
and just praying that I turn you on as much as you turn me on.  I'm hoping
that I'm good enough too."

Tim waves a finger, "Whoa there, let's not pretend you're a girl.  I don't
need the image in my head causing me to laugh out loud thinking about this
when I'm that far with a girl.  She'll slap me and chase me out of the
bed."

I try to cast him a devious look, "Yeah, you also don't want to think about
me when you're with a girl, you may just associate the feelings and switch
teams!"

"Dream on.  Just because I said you're cute earlier doesn't mean I want to
bed you.  Now that Paul Hunter, he's a stud.  I'd do him."

I protest, "I thought you didn't like his stubble."

"Ah, he can shave," Tim says with a shrug and a flip of his hand, as if
he's waving it off as nothing important.

I argue, "But what if he grows a hairy back?"

Tim pretends to really think before answering, "Then I hand him off to
you."

"Hands off my guy," I pretend warn, before getting back to his dilemma,
"Kay.  So I'm a dude here with you right now, and that doesn't work for
you.  We'll remove me from the picture.  You're in your room with a girl.
She's on your bed and I'm at work.  You've been fooling around, touching
her, kissing her."

He asks, "Are we naked?  Feeling each other up?"

"No, not yet," I answer, adding a dig, "But strangely enough she doesn't
even mind the smell of your baseball uniforms stinking up the room too
terribly; she's that into you."

"You love my stuff," Tim points out.

"Not the point," I counter.

"But you do," Tim presses.

Yeah, I do.  His baseball uniforms are a major turn-on to me.  He knows it,
but strangely he lets do his laundry anyways.  I guess there's a balance
between being unnerved by it and being too busy/lazy to do his own laundry.

I get back to my scenario, "So you're crawling over her and doing whatever,
you know foreplay.  She's doing the same.  Undress her, but don't let her
undress you.  When she reaches for something, you take it off.  That way
you're still the man."

"I am the man," He agrees.

Damn he's making me horny.  I finish laying out my plan for him, half
serious, half tongue-in-cheek, "Take your time and that way when you
finally get in her, if you don't last long or whatever, she's still happy.
Tell her how hot she is and if she's cool with it, throw on a new condom
and keep on going.  She'll forget how nervous you are because all she'll
remember is how nervous she is, and that you were a total stud."

He smiles, "Thanks.  You're totally talking out of your ass, but thanks."

I'm a little miffed, "No, when it's just you and me, unfortunately there
are no asses involved.  But seriously Timbo, just because my experiences
are with guys doesn't change it.  Sex is sex."

Tim confuses me often.  This is another one of those times that I sense he
wants to talk about something but veils it, or doesn't get at what he wants
to and instead hides behind banter.  He's the most thoughtful and
perceptive person I know, and seeing the change in the look on his face
right now, he's realizing I've figured out that this conversation is more a
front than anything.

He sighs again, "You're right, sex is sex, although I could figure most of
that part out on my own.  All I got out of that was to make sure to tell
Hunter to be your dominant man, wear his baseball uniform to make you hot
and bothered, and that you like more than one round."

I gasp, "You wouldn't!"

Tim shakes my leg and ignores the erection it frees as he promises, "Hey,
if you're my wingman, I have to be yours in return."

"Then I've got to get you laid," I concede.

He's still skirting his true intentions, although he seems genuine when he
asks, "How do I stop being nervous?"

I don't know where this is all going so I try to keep it short, "You don't.
You just get used to it.  Like playing ball in front of 20 000 people in
the city championship last summer, you'll be nervous, but you'll get
through it.  The next time and the next time, you'll be nervous still, but
the thrill of it all that you remember gets you past that."

Absentmindedly scratching an armpit, he asks, "Do you get nervous?"

"Every time, and it makes it even better," I reveal while casually trying
to tuck my boner back down.  There's no way to hide it though.  He catches
me and smiles.  It's not pity in his eyes, but it's not far off either.

"Thanks," Tim says as he gets up from my bed.  Turning back he adds, "I'm
sorry I do that to you, you know.  Not that you get hard over me, that's
kinda a trip really.  I'm sorry that you have to deal with being attracted
to straight guys.  You better take care of that thing now."

He's not hard, but his bulge is always a good sight, so I nod back at his,
"You should take care of that thing too!  Do it for me."

He laughs, "Nah, I'll do it for myself, but thanks!"

With that Tim turns my light off and closes the door behind him.  Me?  I
get down to business doing what a man does alone.  I do envision Tim and
the boxer briefs caressing the globes of his butt and his basket in front.
I try to keep it strictly silent as I see the underwear pinched between his
cheeks in my mind.  I'm sure he can hear my heavy breathing and gasp on the
other side of my bedroom wall as I orgasm.  I'd like to stay awake and
listen for any signs that he's doing the same.  If I heard any evidence of
him masturbating I'd quickly go for round two.  But instead sleep swiftly
takes me.

>>).:.(<<

PAUL

`The plan'.

It was simple.  Keep my nose clean.  Get the best grades I can.  become a
pro baseball player.  Failing that, the plan would be to get the best
grades I can and make something of myself.

But the plan changed.

First I got Stacey pregnant.  Then her parents refused to let her have an
abortion even though they also refused to let her be a teenage mother.  So
they forced her to sign over her parental rights to me.

All because my mother could better deal with the stigma of her screw-up of
a son being a teenage parent, rather than the embarrassment of her teenage
screw-up of a son also signing over parental rights to the state, I had no
choice.  I have Belinda now.  I am a single teenage father.

Not that I am complaining; I'd never begrudge her.  The minute I saw her I
loved her.  She caused the first change in my plans.  I can't put the time
into baseball that I had planned to.  That's fine.  So I can't become a
major league player and leave this life behind.  I don't need to be a pro
ball player.  Baseball would have just been the means to an end.  The plan
is flexible.  It's liquid and able to adapt to the confinements oppressed
upon it.

So now I work my ass off for money; more than my parents know about.  I
work my ass off and get good grades.  When I graduate from high school the
plan now is to go to school somewhere far away from here.  I need to leave
this life behind.

I have to do it before Stacey turns 18 and decides she wants to get revenge
on me by filing for visitation, or appealing her parents' decision to sign
sole custody over to me.  Belinda is young enough that it won't disturb
her.  I'll pick up in the middle of the night, put her in the car and we'll
head towards a happier future.  I always thought I'd disappear to a liberal
state, California most likely, or one in the north-east.

This is where the plan starts to get a little crazy.  On one of my few
occasions actually talking with Jon Farrows, he threw out Canada as an idea
for himself.  Since that conversation I've discovered that that country and
its people are way more accepting and tolerant than we are here.  Maybe
that's my best bet for a good chance at a decent life for me and Belinda,
being a gay single father, possibly on the lam and whatnot.

Oh yeah, that's the main reason for the plan.  I'm just a little bit gay,
and by a little bit, I mean completely.

So yeah, Canada.  I'm looking at schools there to apply to, and ways of
making it happen.  I'll study part time, work part time, and be a father
full time.  Then, and only then, is when I intend to put the final piece to
the puzzle.  Only then do I plan to live a homosexual life.

No Mom, no Dad, no 6 nosey brothers to tell me it's wrong.  They'll never
know where I am.  I love them well enough, but they will never see things
my way.  They gave me life, my parents that is, and my brothers helped
shape me along the way with them.  Yes, I know that.

But that's just it; it's my life.  I used to wrestle with this but not
anymore.  I only have this one life.  If I am supposed to do right, and
leave a positive mark on this Earth, the only way I know that I can do it
is if I am free to be me.

So the plan; it's still simple.  I am going to keep up the act that I am
straight.  No one here will ever know.  I've never told anyone except for
Belinda.  She doesn't know what the words mean.  Heck she hardly knows more
than a handful of words and can't even talk in sentences yet.  I just can't
ever let anyone here know that I am gay!  I've seen the way guys get
harassed when they are suspected of being gay.  We've all been accused of
being gay at some point or another.  It's how straight boys define
themselves through puberty.  Make it clear that you are not gay by saying
someone else is.

Me gay?  Me?  Sorry, you must be mistaken.  I had a girlfriend like any
normal straight guy.  We had sex regularly.  The fact that my girlfriend,
Stacey Smith, has a big mouth that I knew would kiss and tell-all, also
factored into the plan.  How can I be gay when I satisfy her sexually and
everyone hears about it?  Like how can a guy go any farther to prove how
not-gay he is?

She happened to like me.  I didn't give a rats' behind about her one way or
another.  She has tits?  Let me get my glasses.  Oh yeah, that she does.
Ha, big deal.  They never did anything for me, but I sure gave her the idea
that they did.  So rather than have to work on finding a girlfriend, I just
took the option that she presented to me.  Yeah, rather than search for a
girlfriend I took the easy out and used her as a trophy to display how
straight I am.  For nearly two years she was the image I needed to groom.
She worked quite well.

Then it happened.  The plan hit a snag.

You see, there's this boy.  Damn, what a boy!  He has his own style.  It's
like he's not from around here.  No cowboy hat or boots for starters.  He
mostly dresses like the kids you see on television portraying your everyday
all-American boy next door.  He wears looser fitting jeans than cowboys
'round here do.  His jeans sit low on his hips and caress his beautiful
shaped bulge and butt, and then are straight in the legs.  Mostly his jeans
are the relaxed fit, sometimes the loose or the baggy fit, but they never
flare out at the bottom or taper in.

Except for one pair; sometimes he even wears a pair that could nearly fit
two of him in each of the legs with a chain for a belt.  He always matches
up a rocker t-shirt with those jeans at school.  Always.  Usually black,
sometimes white. And on cooler days he'll wear a long sleeve t-shirt
underneath.  It's always a retro band like Iron Maiden, Def Leppard, Ratt,
or L.A. Guns.  Usually it's a vintage older t-shirt from years gone by, but
sometimes it's a current t-shirt for said bands.

Now outside of school?  He'll match up a golf shirt or long sleeve polo
with the baggy pants if he wears them to a party.  Hot damn it!  Cute as
all heck!  Especially the time he was dressed all preppy, and juxtaposed it
with a dog collar.  Mmm!  But it's the school style I like best, rock
shirts and his jeans.  Plus, on occasion I've seen him walk home and he'll
strip to just his white wife-beater if it's really hot outside.  He looks
amazing when he does so and is wearing his leather cuff and those jeans.
Aside from jeans, he wears jean shorts, cargo shorts, cargo pants and
khakis.  He doesn't wear tear-aways, jogging pants, or athletic shorts,
except for gym class.  Never any other time.

Do I obsess much?  Yeah, maybe a little.  I can go on and on about his
clothes alone.

He has brown hair like me, only his is lighter.  Mine is like chestnut
brown and his is like honey brown.  He has brown eyes.  Oh, his magnificent
brown irises have a warm amber-orange hue to them around the outside and a
dark brown ring defining their circumferences.  Mmmm, I could get lost in
those eyes.  He's the same height as me.  His build is what mine would be
if I didn't work out with weights, but rather just did cardio.  He has
tight, slightly defined pecks.  His stomach is neither concave nor
protruding.  It is flat, and the waist bands of his pants and shorts rest
flat on it.

Oops, there I go to his pants again!  His arms are average.  No flab, no
definition.  They are tight, but not scrawny like you can see his bones or
anything.  His bulge is quite nice in his comfortable fitting pants.  You
have no idea how badly I'd like to see him in something tight fitting.  Yet
again, there I go right back to his pants.  I guess they become a focus
when I so desperately long to get inside of them!

He's made me question my plan.

I would almost forgo the plan if there were a clear cut way of seeing the
future, and us together in it.  It's not a matter about whether or not he's
gay.  That I know.  We had this thing you see.  I don't know what to call
it, but basically we'd scan the halls at school for each other.  After he
and his boyfriend broke up, well after his boyfriend got sent away to live
with relatives when it became public knowledge that they might be gay, we'd
plan our days so that we could pass the same places at the same times, and
wordlessly stare into each other's eyes.

It's not just me that did it, it was mutual.  I know that for sure.  I
couldn't make a move though, it didn't fit my plan.  Then I was hit with a
wave of pain when I saw him with that other boy.  After Daniel Rice left,
he moved on.  Before I saw his new boyfriend the game between us seemed to
intensify for a while until I gave him a ride home from the city
championships.  He was zoned in on my jock that day as I drove.  I could
sense his eyes there and could easily confirm this out of the corner of my
eyes.  He caught me catching him and poof, from then on he either avoided
me in the halls at school or wouldn't look at me.

I have watched him for three years.  For three years he's been the object
of my hearts desires.  I've watched his angelic face and I've seen from
afar into the depths of his soul through his bear-all eyes.  It's never
been a question for me; I've always just known he's gay.  Sure there are
occasional rumors about his sexuality, but that was because of Daniel Rice.

You see, Daniel was a jock, but he was also very little, very effeminate,
and often too obvious.  People judged Daniel as gay, and he's the only guy
I know who never got bullied or beaten for being gay.  Well, not true.
Michael Edwards took a bat to him, causing his parents to move him to
St. Louis to live with family.

Jon was also suspect, based on his close friendship with Daniel.  But to my
knowledge, no one knows for sure about Jon.  That was a tough time, I
really wanted to take Jon aside and tell him that someone loves him as he
was dealing with his loss of Daniel.  His eyes cried bottomless pits of
sorrow for weeks, I just know it.  I didn't have to stare hard to tell his
eye lids were red and raw.  I wish I could have stepped in and told him I
love him.  But that would be shallow and opportunistic, not to mention
counter-effective to my plan.

The time before, when I saw such pain in Jon, I also wanted to step in.
But I didn't.  It wasn't my place.  I was in the change room from gym
class.  I was returning to the fields outside from taking my asthma
inhaler.  Jon grabbed a rolled up scrap of paper from his locker and then
went into the washroom where Daniel was.  They argued.  He left empty
handed and tossed everything from his gym locker into his back-pack and
bolted from the school.

Jon looked right through me and probably never saw me as I watched tears
stream down his face.  I knew then that Jon was totally devoted to Daniel.
I knew then that I didn't stand a chance at his heart.  I felt betrayed.  I
felt angry.  I felt sad for myself.  I was angry at him, I was angry at
myself that I never made a move beforehand.  I was angry that I'm gay.

That night I had sex with Stacey to drown the inner sorrow.  Even though
she was supposedly on the pill, I used a condom religiously up until that
night.  That night I just didn't care.  I actually hoped she'd get
pregnant.  I figured it would force me to not be gay.  I thought it would
give me a lie to live for the rest of my life, and in a few moments of
pleasure I would set the path of my life into stone.  Stacey did get
pregnant.  Belinda was born.  Nothing else changed.  I am still gay, in
fact I feel more drawn to guys than even before.

Yes, I do regret that Belinda will have to someday come to grips with the
fact that I am not heterosexual.  I never wished that on her.  In all
honesty, yes, she was not planned.  I'll never call her a mistake though.
She was not, and is not a mistake.  An unexpected consideration in my life,
but not a burden.  She's my little princess and I'll do right by her for
all I am worth.

So now the plan involves Belinda.

She was a preemie, born on October 12, 1999.  Today she's a totally
healthy, bubbly baby girl with an ever growing vocabulary, coming up on a
year old in a few weeks.  Stacey and I have been broken up since about
halfway through her pregnancy with Belinda.  But we kept up the pretense of
being together because she was afraid of being an only mother, and I
desperately didn't want any child of mine getting a bum chance at life with
only Stacey looking out for him or her.

Bluntly said, Stacey is fucked in the head.  She ain't all there upstairs,
and what is there is warped.  Almost 6 months ago I got the courts to award
me sole custody of Belinda because her parents refused to let her be a
teenage parent, and they even went as far as to have her psychologist tell
the courts that she is unfit as a mother based on psychotic break where she
tried to harm Belinda.  She's diagnosed as mildly bi-polar, with possible
personality conflict tendencies.  Basically she's fine and in all
likelihood it was an episode brought on by post-partum disorder, but the
court has accepted Children's Aid portrayal of her as manic-depressive
based on the bi-polar disorder, and schizophrenic with multiple
personalities.

I was worried in all the court proceedings that somehow my sexuality would
come under question.  Stacey had a decent theory, and sure tried to make it
an issue, but I lucked out and the powers that be decided it was just her
ranting and being vindictive, and irrelevant to her ability to be fit
mother.  I don't want to think what would have happened if they chose to
explore my sexuality.  Being Texas, I probably would have lost Belinda.

I dropped out of baseball and all school activities after Belinda was born,
so that I could look after her and make money in whatever time I could get
to work.  I traded in my Dodge truck for a Chevrolet Cavalier so that I
could better afford Belinda.  I have made every sacrifice possible up to
and including almost never seeing my friends.  I go to school, I work, and
I am a single father.  That is my life.

My parents don't know about some of the money I make.  I have one paycheque
that goes into a secret account, and that is my fund for getting the heck
out of here as soon as I finish high school.  Thankfully I get next to free
daycare from a lady at my church.  That allows me to stash more money.  She
says she is just helping out the unfortunate, and refuses to take any more
money than enough to cover the expenses of food and diapers.  I gave up
arguing her and now put the money that she assures my parents she is taking
into my get-away fund too.  I feel bad using here like this, considering
she is funding my running away.

The lawyer I used was through church too.  He's actually specialized in
financial law, but proved still more than competent for what I needed.
Being a good Baptist, he provided his services in exchange for me
committing to be his yard-boy once a week.  And not in a gay porno plot way
either.  In a dig out that tree stump and wash the muck out of the eaves
while he and his family are at the cottage kind of way.  But I have to play
the cards I'm dealt.

So yeah, the plan.  As much as I'd like to be with Jon Farrows, and as much
as I believe there is mutual attraction, I can't.

Once I get my life settled I'll look for my first boyfriend.  It's a
depressing thought and I feel weak at times and ready to give into the urge
to just get a boyfriend now.  More specifically, it's a struggle to not
throw myself at Jon.  I really, really want a boyfriend, and I want it to
be him.  Sure I want to have sex with him.  I want so badly to experience
sex on such a profound level, with someone I am actually attracted to.

Yes, there's the fact that I am just plain horny, and want to get my first
gay experience under my belt.  But I am also looking for a long-term
relationship with a man.  I am looking for companionship.  I badly want now
what ultimately can ruin the plan.  Get a boyfriend, get killed, and leave
Belinda fatherless.  Get a boyfriend, have my parents find out, and get
kicked out of the house.  Nope, I just don't see the upside to having a
boyfriend.

I'll be honest, there are a few guys I would love to put it in.  But they
are straight for starters.  All but one.  Jon Farrows.  And he has a
boyfriend.  I saw him with the guy the night I helped out at last year's
grad ceremony and dinner.  My friend Jackie saw him with that same guy at
the mall.  Definitely boyfriends.  I haven't seen the guy around this year
so far, but then I don't think the guy goes to our school anyhow.

This summer I even tried to cut my hair, bleach and style it like that
guy's, in hopes of catching Jon's interest this year.  Thankfully that was
right at the beginning of summer.  I reclaimed my senses and it has nearly
grown out now.  Now I just have frosted tips, and in one more hair cut
they're gone too.  Then I'll grow my hair back out to my usual length.  Not
long, mind you, sort of like Jerry O'Connell's hair in Mission to Mars, or
like Chris Klien's as Oz in American Pie.

I quickly gave up on trying to catch Jon by copying his boyfriends hair,
just about the second it was too late and the scissors were hacking away at
my freshly bleached hair.  I have to admit that was stupid.  I shouldn't
have wasted the money on it.  I should have realized that the haircut I was
borrowing from a gay guy might just look gay on me too.  At least it looks
gay around this part of the country anyhow.  All because I saw Jon's
boyfriend that night after the grad party and wanted to emulate him.

Of course I would have never even volunteered for the grad committee in the
first place if Jon wasn't on it.  I screwed that up too.  I wanted to, but
in the meetings and during the entire grad I never so much as talked to
him.  I think I pushed him away some.  I think maybe he noticed me checking
him out and got defensive; he does have a boyfriend after all.

Just to add to my connection to him, Jackie recently took a job working in
the music store at the mall that Jon is a manager of.  Oh yeah, Jackie
Wilson is one of my best friends.  But the whole him working for Jon thing
I don't quite get.  I mean, he tells me all the time that he thinks Jon
Farrows is a fag for like two years, and now he's cool with him, works for
him, plays pick-up ball with him, talks to him at school, and says nice
things about him?  At least I don't have to betray my heart over Jon and
gay bash with Jackie.  That's a huge relief, and if anything, I almost want
to tell Jackie about me too.  So I hear things about Jon occasionally from
Jackie, and I hear even more because Jackie's twin sister Nat is in Jon's
group of friends.

Yeah, I am so infatuated with him.  But again, I could swear that it once
was mutual.  I hang onto moments in time search for their meaning.  Like
how for a time there, he looked me straight in the eyes in the halls at
school.  Not now, never now, but before the summer.  And there was the time
he checked me out, the one time I drove him home from a baseball game.  I'm
not just making that up.  Then there was the time he fell at the mall and
he smiled so warmly at me when I helped him up off the floor.  I swear I
could just feel so much in that smile.

I could be wrong, but some guiding force in me knows otherwise.  I need
him.  I need to be with him.  I need his love as much as I love him.  If
something were to ever happen, he'd trip up my plan, but I almost think I'd
give it a chance.

Oh well, one month of school down, eight to go.  Then Belinda and I are out
of here.  No goodbyes, no nothing.  Out like a thief in the night, never to
return.  I have to stick to the plan.  But here's a thought, why do we
always fall in love with the one's we can't have?

[to be continued]

>>).:.(<<

Note to the reader:

So here's the first chapter of Wings of Tomorrow, part 2 of In the Shadow
of Our Lives.  It's been a long time coming, and I know I promised to
deliver it by late summer / early autumn...  Sorry?  (picture Gilly from
Saturday Night Live) Anyways, here it is!  I'm excited to get back to Jon,
and am going to use the first person – alternating perspectives for this
part of the story.  I hope it's worth the wait.

For those that may be using this as a starting point; yes, there is a
background.  25 chapters worth in fact.  I'd kind of love it if you read
everything up to this point, but it's not necessary to enjoy the story
going forward.  (I mean, hey, if you care to go back to the beginning and
work your way to this point, I'm not going to stand in your way!)

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year,

~Jade xo