Date: Sat, 12 May 2007 15:25:53 -0700 (PDT)
From: Ian Lewis <inlwtx@yahoo.com>
Subject: Leaving Everything to Chance Chapter 6: Fortunate

DISCLAIMER: This story contains depictions of
homosexual contact between underage males. Read at
your own risk, and do not read at all if it is illegal
in your city, state, or province. All characters
depicted are fictional, and any resemblance to real
persons can be attributed to chance.

I woke up at some late hour, maybe 9, maybe 3 in the
morning. I don't bother to look at the clock when I
can help it. I knew whatever time it was, I had slept
enough, and I would not be able to go back to sleep
for a while. Utterly bored, I felt around the room for
my guitar. It was an old Martin that my enterprising
grandfather had converted to left hand use. He was
proud of it, a worthy heirloom to his favorite
grandson. As a result, I was proud of it too, not to
mention highly secretive. Besides my mother and
father, not a soul knew I had a guitar, let alone
could play one. I played only to relax and amuse
myself. Which was what I planned to do now.

Feeling the familiar weathered wood under my
fingertips, I launched into a series of scales with
confidence born of countless  late night performances
such as this one. Then, I worked out a simple melody,
something calm and vaguely Spanish, and backed it with
some chords. Not before long I was lost under a
cascade of notes, drowning in a musical flood of my
own devising. Even though I had never played this
particular song in my life, the chords fell into place
like it was inescapable fate, the song just sounded so
damn right. Not meaning to brag, of course, but I was
a fiend for guitar music. As I made my way through a
bridge, I closed my eyes and laid my head back against
the wall. I switched keys and launched back in, full
swing. I was just wandering through a thoughtful
refrain when I felt a wave of air, the unmistakable
gust caused by an opened window. Slowly, reluctant to
leave my blissful state, I cracked my eyes, only to
gaze on  my window, which was indeed just opened. I
froze, and almost instantly my heart started trying to
claw its way out of my chest. For a moment, I
considered hefting the guitar (El Kabong, anyone?) but
quickly decided that if it was my life or the ax, the
instrument had been here a lot longer than I had. I
stared at the windowsill, ready to jump at (or away
from, depending on just how big they were)any burglar
suddenly popping up. Taking a moment to think, I armed
myself more appropriately with a good 'ol Louisville
Slugger (which ironically enough, was a gift from
Grandpa that didn't go over so well... Who plays
baseball, anyway?) and tiptoed to the window. Seeing
no imminent doom, I chanced sticking my head out.
Nothing left, nothing right. But right under my open
window sat  a blond haired boy, who was obviously
asleep. Even though I was prepared a few moments ago
to go out fighting, I was shocked and overjoyed to see
my new boyfriend and lover Chance in his angelic
slumber. So shocked, that I jerked my head back and
knocked it soundly on the window. I rattled my brains
sufficiently enough to wake him up and almost put me
to sleep, too.   He stood up, and stared dumbly, and
then seemed to realize where he was. He looked through
the window, and saw his lover and boyfriend Ian
sprawled on the floor staring at the ceiling. He
somehow found the sight pleasant. Smiling dazedly, he
stepped through the window (taking care to watch his
head) and curled up right next to me. What
conversation followed sounded like we both had no idea
how to speak English.
"Pretty music..."
"Ow. My head hurts..."
"You play guitar?"
"I am concussed"
"Love you."
"Shouldn't sleep, should I?" No, I probably shouldn't
have, but having Chance made my head hurt less and
made me feel more sleepy. So, I cuddled up to him, and
we spooned our way to the morning.
*     *     *     *

What woke me up was the noticeable lack of boyfriend
next to me and the smell of pancakes. I slowly roused
myself, and smiled at the pleasantness of sleeping
with Chance, but frowned that he left before I woke
up. My next destination was the bathroom. I stopped
outside the door, because someone was taking a shower.
Weird. My mom always takes her shower years before I
wake up. I checked my watch (which wasn't there) and
turned to go lay back down when my mom's voiced piped
up over the sizzle of pancakes turning from the
kitchen. "He's in the shower Ian... although (here her
voice dropped a pitch) I doubt there's anything you
haven't seen already!"
"Mom!"
"Yes, hon" She chimed back, taking delight in making
me blush.
"Nevermind." I touched the door, which was unlocked. I
figured I couldn't hold it, and I'd be done before he
knew. I was right on both counts. Resisting the urge
to  rip the curtain open and expose him, I peed and
flushed the toilet. Oh damn. Howling crazily, Chance
jumped out of the shower, into me. In the process, he
yanked the curtain, which flipped the curtain rod,
which somehow knocked the shower head to turn out into
the bathroom. Poor (or lucky, depending on how you
look at it) me, I've got a cold wet teenage boy on top
of me (he was taking a cold shower? I must have an
effect on him.), and the shower faucet is now spewing
hot water on both of us, only we're not in the shower,
and I'm still dressed. Chance had pinned me to the
floor, and we ended up in a very suggestive position,
that is to say him on top of me naked, face to face,
crotch to crotch. We were both surprised to be so
close so fast, so we did the only thing that made
sense. So we were madly making out (if only we both
were naked, damn.) when my mother peeked in, full of
motherly concern.
"Wow. I'm impressed. Points for creativity."
"Mom!"

*    *    *    *

"These aren't 'I'm your mom and I love you and I just
felt like making them' pancakes, boys," she said,
plopping a few on each of our plates. "These are 'I'm
depressed that my son is getting laid more than I am
so I'm going to cook myself into an early grave'
pancakes. So be happy." Chance guffawed heartily at
this, and I tried to disappear. "So, lover boy, where
ya from?"
"Chicago."
"Ah, makes sense. That's how you met Ian. What brings
you to Fort Wort?"
"We moved. I stayed behind to finish school. I'll
start my senior year here, though.
"Wow, cool. You two should be at the same school,
then.  What do your folks do?" I perked up, because I
knew his family was a sore subject.
"My dad's a... church musician and my mom's a chef at
a restaurant downtown. I don't remember the name..."
"Denise Owens? At the Rio Grande? I knew you looked
familiar!" she said, swinging a towel through the air
for emphasis. I do some desserts for them every now
and then! You've really got her eyes, you know." He
blinked said eyes, smiling pleasantly.
"I had know idea she was so well known..."
"Yep, I'd say she's pretty good. But since she's not
here, you'll just have to settle for my pancakes. Eat
up." Eat up we did.

After breakfast, Chance suggested that we go to his
house. "My dad's got a studio downstairs. You think
you could record a couple of tracks?" he said, miming
like he was holding a guitar.
"Is it okay with your dad?"
"He's out of town, actually... and my mom, she doesn't
go down there. she says she cooks enough at work."
"What do you mean?"
"You'll see. Anyway, if the layouts the same as his
one in Chicago, I know how to not break anything."

So down the block we walked, guitar over my shoulder,
whistling merry tunes.

"You know Chance, I'm only doing this because I love
you."

He affected a British accent. "I am going to make you
into an idol!"

"Stow it, Simon."

"Meet me in my trailer for some private voice lessons.
Don't wear anything." I threatened to Kabong him and
we both busted out laughing. We entered Chance's house
through the back door (mind out of gutter, please.)and
descended directly into the studio. It was baking down
there. The only cooling devices in use were those to
keep the large array of recording equipment at normal
temperature. Everything else was hot. "Let's get this
started. You might want to warm up."

"I am."

"Huh?... oh! bad pun babe, bad pun." And so I found
myself slow roasting in a small foam covered room. I
could see him through the glass, and he looked like he
clearly knew what he was doing. After a while, I
stopped playing around and looked up. Chance gave me a
thumbs up sign, and flipped a switch. A red light
above me came on. Showtime. I started with something
distinctly Latin, reminiscent of sunny streets of
Mexico, and love and hate and drama on them. It danced
with the salsa, the meringue, it cracked like the
castanets. The song somehow raised my body
temperature, so I responded by giving it more heat. My
fingers danced through the chords, and I could feel my
pulse quickening, my blood burning. I decided I would
name the song "Fire," after the flames of it's
conception. Fire consumed me. I swept up and up into a
burning note that didn't resolve. I nodded, and the
light went out. I deliberately opened the recording
room door, as if my newfound fire might engulf it. The
sweat ran in rivulets like coffee down my face, down
my back. I could see Chance was the same way. As he
hunched over the electronics I walked over to him, put
my hand on his shoulder. He turned, and I yanked him
up into a kiss. The sweat plastered our shirts to our
bodies, our bodies to each other. We didn't stand up
for long at all. Chance was on top of me, again, and
his dick was burning hard against mine. We felt each
other, somehow not hot enough, wanting to steal each
other's heat. In the fray, somehow our shirts came
off, dropping heavily because of the sweat. Somehow
our pants came off, and the boxers too. We were so
entwined that we wore each other instead. When he
ended up under me, I slid down to his crotch, the
hottest part of his body. Without much ado, I took his
glistening penis in my mouth, not really concerned
with love at the moment, because the heat had brought
out some kind of animal lust in us. My life existed
for me to lunge until I felt him at the back of my
throat, and lunge I did. He convulsed as he came,
sending his white hot seed down my throat. I grabbed
him, for the very sensation of him shivering with an
orgasm gave me one. I barely had to touch myself, and
it was over. I hope I didn't stain anything. We lay
like that for a while, the whole time thinking, "Oops,
we did it again."
I had always known what love felt like, but this
seemed to be something else.
It was only one of the things I'd discover in the arms
of Chance.

*     *     *     *     *

Long time coming, but I know, more Chance is gonna
come. I'm in the midst of furiously trying to finish
high school, and once I'm out, I promise, I'll write
like a fiend. Enjoy.
Inlwtx@yahoo.com