Date: Sun, 18 Jun 2000 18:46:13 -0500
From: Willy B <haztech@email.msn.com>
Subject: Mile High pt10

Author's note: For link to Mr. Goldman, check 'Flak Bait' in 'historical'
section.  For link to Mike's friend Philip, check 'Flip' in 'high school'.


Mile High
Part 10

        Kelvin cautiously glanced around his hiding place in the meager
bushes that lined the road. He quickly ducked as another school bus passed,
its exhaust clearly visible this cold Monday morning. He cursed the fact
that another cold front had barreled through the previous night, he cursed
Chris and his teammates, and he cursed Mike and Steve for having thought up
the predicament he was in while they were alone in Fort Worth. Steve had
even videotaped the whole thing to send to his best friend. He was sure
Mr. Goldman and God knew how many others would see it too.
        He cursed his own stupidity most of all! Chris had called him last
night to tell him that he couldn't take him to school, but would take him
home, so he'd agreed to make his regular morning run to school like he had
for years. The tone of Chris's voice should have tipped him off, but he'd
been on such an emotional rollercoaster the past few weeks, he must not
have been thinking straight. He smirked at himself internally; hindsight is
20/20.
        Chris and his teammates had caught him completely off guard when
they'd exploded from different directions as he turned the last corner to
the school. He'd put up a valiant struggle; Chris and some of the others
would probably have a few bruises. Now he was hiding in the bushes and he
had a major exam in chemistry and English today, so he couldn't stay in the
bushes forever.
        He took a deep breath and held it for a moment and felt his leg
muscles bunch up, prepared to spring. He slowly exhaled as he jumped from
his cover, making for the group of bushes a couple of hundred yards
distant, at the edge of the school's parking lot. He had to be careful,
though; he'd accidentally racked his nuts pretty good, they were real loose
and went the wrong way between his thighs, the last time he'd run without
any `support' down there. His face burned as he ran and the space between
his shoulder blades began itching uncontrollably. He was out in the open
now, for all the world to see.

        "Sorry!" Coach Martini nervously wiped his brow. His car had come
awfully close to that mailbox. He quickly glanced at Mrs. Lee and the
others in his carpool. They were all laughing at his discomfort. They knew
the problem would be his to handle, as usual.
        "I do believe, coach,..." Mrs. Lee looked at her redfaced employee,
"...that he is one of yours! Who is it? I'm afraid I'm not familiar with
those parts of my students."
        "I'm afraid you're right! He's one of mine!" Coach Martini
grimaced. "I don't think we'll have any more of this to look forward to
after I'm through with them. Let me take care of it!" He smiled to
himself. "A week running the bleachers ought to handle it!"
        The carpool turned back to watch the receding naked buttocks as
they flashed white in the orange glow of the morning.

        The two in the truck behind also watched. The driver fumbled on the
seat for a moment and brought the dismounted scope up to his eye. "It would
be so easy," he muttered under his breath as he centered the crosshairs on
the back of the youth running away from their position. That kid was the
reason he and his friends were on probation and had been expelled from
school for the year! It wasn't fair! Everybody except the Principal, the
Judge and, he added, the little shit's friends could see that they had just
stood up for what was right. The boy deserved everything he had coming to
him that day. He was going to hell anyway; why should they have to put up
with his presence now?
        "Hey, don't even think about doing anything so stupid!" His
passenger and friend was nervously watching the driver closely. "Remember!
They do it with a needle in this state!"
        The driver grimaced as he let the scope drop. "Yeah, I know! The
shit is the town's `darling little boy' for now, after that show he put
on. That fag's the one who should have his arm strapped down with a needle
in it! Him and all the others who helped him!" He silently included the
bastards at Texas Tech who'd pulled their scholarship offer from him. "Fuck
it!" They both turned away to get to work at his dad's auto parts store.

        Kelvin finally reached the bushes he'd been aiming for. He glanced
through the branches at the corridor his `friends' had made for him, along
with what looked like the whole student body. He noted the way his blue
running shorts waved defiantly from the top of the flagpole.
        "Hey! Kelvin, hurry up! It's freezing out here!" Steve yelled,
looking at the bushes where they'd seen Kel go after he'd streaked across
the field.
        "I think I know that! You fucks!" Kel screamed back to the
accompaniment of laughter and 'OOHs' and 'AHHs' at his command of the
English language. Maybe he could reason with them. "OK, you've had your
fun! Go away!"
        "Go away?" Sharon was almost dancing at the front of the crowd. She
was enjoying her part in this. It was her revenge for being kept out of the
group when they'd helped Mike. She glanced at Chris, laughing with the rest
of them. She couldn't wait to show him what she'd downloaded from her mom's
computer when she'd surfed all the sites she shouldn't have access to. It
was grainy and obviously taken from a video, but it sure looked like Chris
and, if it was, she was impressed. But for now, she was having too much fun
dealing with her naked friend in the bushes. "Why should we go away? We
haven't seen the show yet!"
        "Fuck you too, Sharon!" Kel continued to crouch behind the cover,
his frustration building. They weren't going away! He was trapped and they
weren't going to let him go without completing their plan. An evil grin
spread its way into his features. If he couldn't get away with his dignity,
then he would make this something they would never forget. If Sharon wanted
a show, then she would get one! He let his mind clear itself of all other
thoughts as his eyes focused on his target.
        Kel burst from his hiding place and raced at Sharon with his arms
outstretched to either side. He heard the crowd laugh and scream as he made
no attempt to cover himself and instead followed his target.
        "Kelvin! No! Kelvin, stop!" Sharon tried to bolt back into the
crowd of students but found her way blocked. Instead, she found herself
running towards the locker room door at the other end of the cordon of
classmates. "Kelvin! Don't you do it! Joel! Help! Joel?"
        As he passed, Kel saw Joel out of the corner of his eye. Joel was
in no position to help his girlfriend. He was curled into a ball on the
ground, shaking uncontrollably as another fit of laughter racked his frame.
        Kelvin decided he'd made his point and let her get away as he
guiltily dove through the locker door being held open by his scowling
coach, who'd obviously just arrived.
        "Sorry, coach!" he gasped as Mr. Martini crossed through the room.
        "Don't be sorry," Coach Martini smiled back. "I'm not mad at you. I
don't get mad, I get even!" He decided that the home side of the stadium
would do better than the visitors' side. It had twice as many steps.

        Kelvin entered the cafeteria to the fourth round of whistles and
applause he received that day. He thought it was strange. With a few
regular exceptions, everybody's attitudes seemed to have shifted a little
more favorably in his direction. All he could guess is the others
appreciated it when somebody proved they could take extreme jokes and even
turn them against one of the `jokers'. Hell, he'd certainly shown the whole
school he had the balls (they'd certainly seen enough of them) to face
anything. He waved to everybody and quickly sat next to Chris, who was
holding another piece of ice to his cheek.
        "That still hurt?" Kel asked his boyfriend. "You know you deserved
it."
        "Yeah, I guess," Chris smiled back. "It figures. I go to an
initiation, and a hockey game breaks out! You can throw some wicked
elbows."
        "I couldn't help it. I'm ticklish." Kel gave Chris his best hurt
puppy look, still playing the victim. "Besides, you surprised me."
        "We were supposed to surprise you." Chris wanted to slap Kel on his
head, but the teachers were watching them. "You are not ticklish. I should
know, I tickled you on your...well, you're not ticklish."
        "Where did you tickle him?" Sharon suddenly flounced down in the
seat across from the two boys. "Oh, thank you, Kelvin. I think I broke a
heel!"
        "It's none of your business!" Kel retorted. "Besides, you're
wearing sneakers!" He looked around for her shadow. "Where's Joel?"
        "Probably hiding," Chris jumped in. "He's afraid she's gon'a tear
his balls off for leaving her to your...well, whatever you were going to
do."
        "No, no, he's fine." She smiled at them. "He's in the auditorium,
practicing. Anyway, the choir has enough sopranos." She casually leaned
forward. "So, Kel. Has Chris gotten a piece of that cute little ass of
yours yet?"
        Chris started suddenly and began coughing uncontrollably as the
diet soda he'd been drinking gushed through his nose. He couldn't believe
she'd asked that! He shook his head as Kel pounded him on the back. You
didn't ask two guys a question like that. Of course, they'd asked Sharon
and Joel if they'd `gotten any', numerous times, so he supposed he
shouldn't have been too surprised by her forwardness.
        He smiled, embarrassed, at Kel. "Just what we need. I can see the
headline now: `Student drowns in cafeteria'." He gasped as the intense
burning in his sinuses began to ease.
        "So?" Sharon wasn't about to change the subject now. "Have you
two?"
        "No!" both responded simultaneously. "It's none of your business."
        "I didn't think so." She winked at Chris. "After what I've seen,
I'd walk bowlegged for a week."
        "What have you seen?" Chris felt himself on edge suddenly. She'd
seen them in the shower that one time, but that was strictly from the waist
up. He didn't know what she could have seen! He still felt a feeling of
dread and caution; this was dangerous territory for him, after that Houston
hotel room.
        "Here," she smiled, oblivious to Chris's stiff posture, as she
slipped a folded piece of paper to him. "I found this on the Web and I was
wondering if this is you?"
        Chris felt the blood drain from his face as he and Kel examined the
photo. It was him, all right, lying on the bed with his hard penis in
another man's hand. The memories flooded back as his face took on a faraway
look. That part had been fun at the time, the rest was a nightmare. "Yes,
it's me," he finally croaked. "I think I was drunk."
        Sharon felt her confidence slip as she saw the look in Chris's
eyes. She'd really screwed up this time. "I'm sorry," she whispered
cautiously. "What happened?"
        "I let some guy pick me up." Chris quietly related the story as he
looked away from everybody, unable to look Kel in the eye. "He made some
video, then I think he tried to put something in my drink."
        "He raped you?" Kel was beside himself. Chris was taller than all
of them and stronger than ninety percent of the students there.
        "No." Chris was tearing up; he'd thought all that was behind
him. "I don't know if he was going to or not. If he put something in my
drink, it didn't have the effect he wanted." He quickly glanced around. "I
don't want to talk about it any more." Chris stood suddenly and strode out
of the building.
        "Chris, wait up!" Kelvin finally reached him and put his arms
around his chest. "She didn't know!" He'd left her crying. "And I don't
care! You're still my love, nothing can change that!"
        "Kel! We're in the middle of the parking lot!" Chris glanced around
nervously.
        "I said,..." Kel pulled Chris even tighter, "...I don't care! I
love you! Not some picture, you!"
        "I don't know why,..." Chris gave in and returned the embrace, his
cheeks wet, "...you deserve better."
        "Chris?" Kel smiled up at his boyfriend and wiped his face for
him. "Shut the fuck up! I know what I want and you're it!"

__________________________________________________________________________________________

        "I knew we shouldn't have done that this morning." Chris lay next
to Steve, their worn legs folded over the lowered tailgate of Steve's
truck.
        "Yeah, I know what you mean." Steve was still massaging out an
earlier cramp. "I can't believe we'll have all week to run those
stairs. Coach must have been really pissed." He lifted his pounding head
slightly to look al the field house. "Where's Kelvin?"
        "Probably still puking his guts out!" Chris closed his eyes against
the sun. "Like the rest of us." Chris smiled grimly. Up and down, up and
down, for a couple of hours. He reached for another glucose tablet in his
wallet. He was starting to feel lightheaded again. `Great', he thought,
`All I need now is to finish the day with an insulin reaction.'
        "Shit! I'm out!" He fumbled again in the change pocket. "Shit!
That's all I need!"
        "Out of what?" Steve looked at Chris, alarmed. He had slurred his
last words. "Are you OK?"
        "No." Chris was nervous. He knew an insulin reaction could come on
quickly for a diabetic, but this was ridiculous. He usually had twenty to
thirty minutes after he felt the first signs of one before it became
serious. "I need some sugar, a candy bar? Coke?"
        "I don't have any." Steve didn't really understand, but figured
Chris knew what he needed. "Kelvin's on his way over. I think you should
let him drive. There's a `stop and rob' a couple of blocks towards
town. You want me to follow? Make sure you're OK?"
        "No." Chris hesitantly got to his feet and proceeded to meet Kel at
`the beast'. "I'll be OK." At least he thought he said he'd be OK. He
wasn't really sure how it came out. He hated it when he had to deal with a
serious reaction. It made people think he was drunk and he hated being out
of control, drunk in any way.

        Kelvin ran into the small store and headed to the soda cooler. He
was scared to death. He'd never been around Chris when he was having a
problem with his diabetes. Chris had always hidden it so well before. He
tried not to totally freak, he didn't want his lover to be self- conscious
around him, but he couldn't help it.
        "Hey, kid? Get out of here!" The clerk almost yelled. "I don't want
you in here."
        "What?" Kelvin stopped and looked at the clerk who'd spoken,
incomprehension on his face. "Why? I just need a Coke for my friend."
        "I said 'get out'." The clerk was becoming more belligerent. "I
don't sell to queers."
        Kel thought about just taking what Chris needed. He felt he didn't
have time to argue with this asshole, but he figured Chris would never
forgive him for going to jail over what Chris still insisted was a minor
problem.
        "Fuck you!" Kel yelled over his shoulder as he quickly exited the
store empty handed. He had other places to try before he'd give up and have
to take Chris to the hospital. He made a note to tell his dad about this
place. He thought they bought their oil from Stuart Petroleum. He ducked
his head guiltily as he left a couple of black tire tracks behind when he
peeled out of that place. He shouldn't have been so hard on Chris's car,
but he was pissed and looking for revenge.
        Kel smiled gratefully as he saw Chris finish off the rest of the
cola and relax, waiting for the sugar to flow through his bloodstream. The
lady at the Exxon station had been really nice to him. He just hated that
they'd had to wait until the interstate to find a cooperative store
clerk. Granted, this stupid town only had three stations with stores
attached, but this was ridiculous.
        "Thanks. I'll be OK now." Chris smiled weakly. This was so
embarrassing to him. He'd always had much better control of his blood sugar
than this. He hadn't accounted for the increased physical activity. He
vowed to be more careful this week. He looked at his watch. "Shit, it's
four thirty."
        "Why? What did you want to do?" Kel asked as he slipped back behind
the wheel.
        "I was going to take my paycheck to the bank and open an account."
Chris looked at the slip of paper in his wallet.
        "If you're feeling better,..." Kel checked his boyfriend over,
"...we can still go if you want. I think they close at five."
        "I don't know." Chris sounded bitter. Those small town bigots would
have preferred to see him in a coma. "Do you think they'll want a queer's
money?"
        "I don't see why not?" Kel tried to lighten Chris's mood. "Your
money's green, not pink."
        "I don't think I'll try today." Chris knew he was completely faded
and suspected Kel was too. The coach's punishment had been hard on them
all, and that was before his `crisis'. "I'm gon'a drive into Midland and
open an account at one of the big banks there, tomorrow."
        "That's almost an hour and a half away." Kel looked on
quizzically. "How you gon'a get there in time?"
        "I'm just gon'a have to ask the coach if I can leave early from our
torture tomorrow." Chris finally smiled. "Maybe he'll let me go if I
promise he can hang me by my balls from the goalpost later."
        "Well I don't think you'll have to go that far." Kel cupped his
groin dramatically. "I was going to ask if you wanted some company
tomorrow, but if you're going to promise the coach that, then I think I'd
better pass."
        "What did you want to go to Midland for?" Chris let Kel's jibe
pass. "I'm just going to a bank. Nothing exciting."
        "You don't think I can go to the local drugstore here, do you?" Kel
shook his head, trying not to laugh. "I'm not the only one with a cute ass
around here."
        Chris started, staring at Kel. Slowly a sly grin spread. "Somehow,
I don't think Steve will let you near his butt."
        "You jerk off!" Kel was ready for this game. "I wasn't talking
about Steve, although his is better looking than your hairy ass."
        Chris let a false hurt look cross his face. He knew Kel was playing
now. His ass, like the rest of him was, distressingly, anything but
hairy. He still only shaved once every two weeks. His short, dark haired,
boyfriend could probably grow a decent mustache, not the thin shadow he was
generating. "I'll tell him you said that! Do you want flowers or a cash
donation to the assholes of America?"
        "You're the only asshole I'm interested in." Kel gleefully ignored
the mock threat. "But I don't want to hurt you."
        "Like you could hurt me!" Chris glanced back; Kel was sounding more
and more like he was serious. He couldn't be sure, though, so he rose to
the taunt. "I shit bigger than you! Besides, You'll have to catch me before
I'd let you or anyone else try for my butt and I think I proved I'm faster
than you the other night!" Chris winced internally. He should have left
well-enough alone. What had gotten into Kel all of a sudden? He'd proven
that he could be a horny little bastard when he wanted to be. "Hell, you
wouldn't know what to do if you ever caught me!" Chris winced again. There
it was, he'd laid out the challenge and walked right into it. It wasn't
that he hadn't thought about taking the next step, but he had to admit he
was afraid of it as well.
        "There you go again," Kel smiled at his afternoon target, "saying
sweet nothings to me." He winked at Chris to put him at ease. This was
getting out of control. "I was just kidding. We don't have to do anything,
but don't tell me I can't catch you if I want to. I think I already have."
Kel let a sigh escape as they continued back through town towards his
house. "I don't think either of us would know what to do if we caught each
other," he quickly smiled, "but I'm willing to learn, if you are."
        "So if we do this?" Chris nervously looked down at the bulges they
both had now. "How we gon'a learn and who goes first?" Chris already knew
the answer to his first question. Somewhere along the line they'd already
decided. "I don't think I'm up for `trial and error'."
        "I suppose I could use my dad's computer." Kel couldn't help but
grin. "Or I could call Mr. Goldman's pilot." He couldn't resist another
tease. "I'm certain he'd be more than willing to demonstrate on you, after
that show you put on for him."
        "I told you before, I wasn't putting on a show!" Chris was
beginning to feel he'd never live that episode down. "I was just fighting
with the fuel hose and trying to stay on the ladder at the same time. I
couldn't help but bend over in front of him. I didn't know he was looking!"
        "God, you can be so dense some times." Kel twisted his knife a
little bit more. "I don't think the fuel line was the `hose' he was
interested in." He decided to let his boyfriend off the hook. "Anyway, I'll
look up the information somehow and I'll go first after I beat your ass out
on the track."
        "Beat me?" Chris relaxed as they pulled up at Kel's house. "In your
dreams! I've got something you can beat!" Chris smiled to himself. The
other issue was settled. "Hey, make sure the seat's back. I don't want to
eat my knees!"

__________________________________________________________________________________________

        Coach Martini watched the two boys as they stumbled through the
last of their punishment for the day. He'd let them go early on Tuesday -
he figured he was getting soft in his old age - with a promise to make it
up on Thursday. He smiled to himself; Kelvin and Chris were inseparable
now. The whole school knew they were `an item'. He didn't know how to
handle it at first. He'd never had to before! He sent a silent thanks to
Mrs. Lee. She'd told him that they were just a couple of ordinary kids and
he should make no other allowances. He had to admit, the two of them didn't
really act any different from the others he had coached over the
years. Their high spirited pranks were harmless, although this last one did
raise some eyebrows. He finally let his grin show through; maybe he'd hang
around for another year, after all. He couldn't wait to see what his track
team could do to top what they'd done this year. He wanted to make sure
they wouldn't do any permanent damage.
        "That's enough!" he yelled at the two. "Go on in!"
        Kel wanted to collapse as he and Chris slowly made their way back
to the lockers. `One more day,' he thought to himself, `one more day.'
        "I'm giving the team the day off tomorrow." Coach Martini followed
the two into the room. "If you two think you can keep your clothes on, that
is." He wanted to take care of a final piece of business. "Mr. Stuart, I'll
want you to fill in on some of the events I had Mike running; you too,
Mr. Bauchamp. I'll let you know tomorrow which ones."
        "Yes, sir," both mumbled in reply as they shed their gear.
        "I ought to kick your ass for getting me into this." Kel barely
watched the coach leave as he collapsed on the bench and lay on his back,
looking at Chris. "I hurt all over."
        "Join the club," Chris wearily smiled back. "I didn't want to have
all the fun." He sat by Kel and casually stroked his hand through his
boyfriend's curly hair. "Com'on, let's get cleaned up and get out'a here."
        "Yeah, I guess." Kel couldn't help but grin back. "So much for
finding out who's faster tomorrow. I guess I win by default."
        "I don't think so," Chris replied. "You come out to the airport
tomorrow night. We'll settle it there, one end of the runway to the other."
        "That's not much of a race." Kel gave Chris a sly look.
        "I'm talking about long ways." Chris shook his head in exasperation
and slapped Kel's flat stomach as he rose to shower. "Com'on, dickless,
let's go." He refrained from grabbing Kel by that organ even though it was
plainly in sight, doing its usual `down and to the left'. He didn't want
the coach to see anything else they would get in trouble for. Besides, he
wasn't up to starting anything right now, his body hurt too much.
        Kel let the last comment go as he sat up and rubbed the slightly
red fading hand print. He just added it to his `reasons to win'. He hoped
what he'd downloaded would work and that his dad would never find the
file. He nervously watched Chris flop from side to side as he went to the
shower. Thank God they loved each other so much. If he were ever raped by
somebody Chris's size he knew he probably wouldn't live through it! He
smiled to himself; OK, he was exaggerating, but barely. In a way he was
glad that Chris was just as nervous about what they'd planned as he was. He
felt he wouldn't be nearly as self-conscious about trying something as new
and forbidden as this seemed to be. That it had become a game to them made
it less threatening as well.

_________________________________________________________________________________________

        Chris used his foot to guide the fuel hose back on its
reel. Finished, he looked back at the modified Cessna Citation. These guys
- people, he corrected himself (one was a woman) - had freaked him out when
they'd arrived. The four had exited the jet wearing worn jeans and rock
T-shirts under their DEA windbreakers. It wasn't what he'd expected from
Federal Agents. Where were their blue suits, name badges, and radios? These
people looked more like they belonged behind bars, not putting people
behind bars. The lady with them had noticed his furtive looks and
explained, smiling, that the ones who went to jail were the ones wearing
the expensive blue suits.
        The four agents were lounging in the terminal, waiting for the
Blackhawk helicopter that was following, after they'd taken care of their
potty break. Chris hoped they'd leave soon. Kel was on his way to the field
and he was looking forward to finally spending some time alone with him.
        "Have you heard anything from the others?" He noticed the four
agents step outside. One was speaking into a handheld radio that had
appeared as if by magic.
        "They're about ten minutes out," the lady spoke. She seemed to be
the one in charge. "Would you like to look inside our bird while we wait?"
        "Sure!" Chris followed her over to the door and waited while she
switched the batteries on. The interior was surprisingly sparse compared to
the corporate versions he'd looked in, although not many carried the
armament this one did, all neatly stacked in a rack near the entrance. He
was careful to avoid that!.
        What fascinated him the most, however, was the console that, he
learned, controlled the infared video turret on the bottom of the
plane. The green image on the screen was amazing as she swung the camera
around, showing him a daytime world at night.
        The agent loved to show off their `toys' like this. It was fun to
see everybody's first reaction to that kind of military based
technology. `Who knows?' she thought, `They might get a future agent out of
this.'  She manipulated the trackball control a little more as she
explained how the DEA had grafted an F-16 search radar on the nose of this
former business plane.
        She noticed the pickup at the end of the runway and zoomed in on
the hot, bright image. The kid would love spying on what had to be a couple
of his friends having a little fun in the dark corner of the road.
        She zoomed in even closer and felt her blood turn to ice. Something
wasn't right here. She examined the cold black line moving in the cab.
        "Chris?" She looked again at the nametag on his shirt. "Get inside
the building. Now!" This was absurd! They were nowhere near the border, but
she knew that some smugglers made it a habit to watch airports to keep
track of where they were operating. They'd even been attacked once, but
that was near Laredo on the Mexican boarder. This didn't make sense. Who
was this guy after?
        She pulled her radio. "Sniper!"

End of Part 10

        Once again, my thanks to Ed for making the story much easier to
read.
        I hope you are continuing to enjoy the story. I do try to answer
the E-Mails I get, when I can. Thanks to everybody who's written so far. If
I haven't answered yet, please remind me. Nothing a good swift kick
wouldn't help me with.(Grin). As always, let me know what you think.

Thanks. Willy B. (haztech@msn.com)