Date: Sat, 4 Nov 2000 23:14:24 -0000
From: Ardveche <ardveche@hotmail.com>
Subject: New to this State (Part 11)

I'M OVERWHELMED
===============

Well the response to Part 10 was incredible, seems a lot of you really
identified with what I thought was a relatively clumsy scene in the
cemetery - I just couldn't get the words I wanted to use, maybe that's why
it worked?  Curtis's dialog maybe seemed more genuine?  Who can say?
Anyway, I decided to push on with Chapter 11, despite some bastard emailing
me with a virus that rampaged across my hard drive. See the sacrifices I
make for you??  Thanks for all your support and all your comments and
suggestions and praise and so on - it's all appreciated and I do try to
answer every single email (Over 1,000 now, and counting!).  This chapter is
dedicated to the one person who sent me criticism: "some people like to get
straight to the banging"; to which I say - it took you TEN chapters to
realize this was not that sort of story????  My solution?  Read something
else, don't bother me with your unnecessary whining!  This chapter is
shorter than intended, but I have to rush out, so the next one will pick it
up when it gets posted.  Sorry!


DISCLAIMER
==========

This is a work of fiction; any resemblance to persons living or dead is
entirely coincidental.  The author asserts all legal and moral rights
(copyright (c) 2000 - ardveche@hotmail.com) to this work and you may not
copy it or transmit it in any way except in its entirety and with this
disclaimer. This story features descriptions of sex between consenting (all
over the legal age, at least in my jurisdiction they are) males:

- if such material is prohibited in your jurisdiction, please DO NOT READ ON,
- if you're under the legal age to read such material, please DO NOT READ ON,
- if you don't like, or are offended by such material, please DO NOT READ ON.

Now, if everyone who is still here is meant to be here, let's get on with
it.  All comments are welcome and gratefully received (email them to
ardveche@hotmail.com or look me up on MSN Messenger).


NEW TO THIS STATE
=================

Chapter 11 - Sunday Best

	Curtis started the car and we pulled away from the cemetery and
headed for home, we were both silent.  When we got back to the house, Lois
and my mom were chatting in the parlor so we hung out in the kitchen for a
bit, talking about nothing much over a cup of coffee.  I didn't know what
to say to him, after the affecting moments we had just spent in the
cemetery there seemed to be nothing I could say.  Finally he stood up and
drained his coffee.

	"Gonna grab more matches from upstairs, then I think I'll head out
back for some air and a smoke.  Coming with?"

	"Air and a smoke?  Seems like a waste of time."

	"Funny."

	"Yeah, I'll come.  Just let me finish this."  I raised my cup.

	"Sure, back in a minute."  He left me alone in the kitchen with
half a cup of coffee and my thoughts.  Poetic, huh?  I heard him trotting
up the stairs and the distant sound of drawers being opened and closed.
Eventually he returned to the kitchen, and shook the matches triumphantly
as he entered the room, a goofy grin on his face.

	"Well done."

	"Thanks."  His smile broadened, taking my sarcastic remark at face
value.

	"Did I ever tell you you're my hero?"  I commented dryly.

	"The wind beneath your wings, huh?"

	"You're not clever."

	"So you keep telling me."  He reached out and messed up my hair as
he walked towards the door.

	"Scum!"  I called at his back and was rewarded by a raised middle
finger over his shoulder as the door swung to.  "Asshole!"  I called, but
by that stage, there was no way he could have heard me.  So I got to my
feet and quit the warmth of the kitchen to follow him outside.  At first I
couldn't see him and then I saw a match flare by one of the fruit trees and
wandered over to him.

	"Hi." He took a deep draw on his cigarette, the light reflecting in
his eyes was about the only part of his face I could see in the darkness.

	"Hi, yourself."  I sat on the low wall surrounding what Lois
sometimes referred to as her 'orchard'.  I became aware of an odd smell,
and took a few tentative sniffs to try to identify it.  "What's that
smell?"

	"Don't play dumb."  His voice was low, and it was hard to place his
tone, I thought maybe he was angry at me for something, but I couldn't be
sure.

	"Pot?"

	"Bingo."

	"Christ, my mom'll go crazy.  And Lois!"

	"Lois doesn't care.  And your mom'll never know."

	"What do you mean 'Lois doesn't care'?"  I was puzzled by his
certainty.  He had known Lois for a few days only, who was he to tell me
what my grandmother did and did not approve of.  I was about to become
righteously indignant when it struck me that I had known Lois for about as
long and that he had spent more time with her recently than I had.  So
maybe he did know what she thought on the matter.

	"We talked about it this afternoon."  He said simply, confirming my
thoughts.

"Oh."

"But, you know, if you really don't want me to, I won't smoke it."  He took
the joint from between his lips and stood looking at me in silence.
Suddenly, I felt as though I was being somehow unreasonable, like there was
something wrong in asking him to stop doing something illegal right there
in front of me.

	"It's your life."

	"Don't be like that!"

	"Like what?"

	"All petulant at me.  Just tell me; yes or no?"

	"I don't know.  I guess you probably shouldn't, but I don't know."

	"Call that an answer?"  He chuckled and dropped the butt, crushing
it with the heel of his boot.  "There.  Happy?"

	"Curtis..."

	"Drop it.  I think I need an early night."  He made as thought to
head back to the house and I grabbed his arm to stop him.

	"Are we having an argument?"  I was confused by his behavior.

	"I don't know, are we?"  And answers like that from him were not
helping me.  In fact, in addition to being confused, I was fast becoming
angry.  He could be so difficult.  He shook my hand off his arm.

	"It seems like it."

	"Not to me."  His tone was hard to gauge, and it was too dark to
really see his face.

	"Well it does to me, and I don't understand why."

	"I said to drop it, Drew.  You don't want me to smoke, I won't
smoke.  Simple."

	"Then why do you sound so pissed about it, if it's that simple?"  I
demanded, perhaps more angrily than was really necessary.

	"Jeez, you're hard to please."  I wasn't sure, but I got the
feeling that he was laughing at me.  There was a short silence in which he
stared intently at my face, which was set into a scowl and then he did
actually laugh aloud.

	"What?"  He was making me more and more angry.

	"You're cute when you're angry."

	"Fuck you."  I turned and stalked back towards the house.  He
didn't follow, and as I opened the screen door to go inside I could see
again the glow of a cigarette under the trees.  'Fine', I thought.  If he
wanted to be a complete jerk there was nothing I could do about it, and it
wasn't even worth my effort to try.  I made myself a cup of coffee and
headed upstairs to my room to listen to angry music.  I don't know about
you, but when I'm in a bad mood, I like to nurse it and make it last as
long as possible.  I was feeling pretty aggrieved, hard done by, and I
wanted to wallow for a while in my own sense of outrage.

	I needed to think about what was happening in my life.  So much had
changed in the course of the last week, I needed just to stop and sit down
for a moment and try to get things straight in my mind.  If that was
possible.  Now that I had time to consider the conversation in the garden I
had no idea why I was even angry with him.  Or if it was him I was angry
with, or if it was me.  I flopped back on my bed and stared at the ceiling,
trying to order my thoughts.  Did I mind him smoking?  I don't know.  I
certainly didn't like the taste of smoke on him, but was it for me to try
to make him stop?  Was this even an issue worth getting angry over?
Probably not.  I turned the stereo off and sat up, feeling a little foolish
I went back down the stairs and looked out the kitchen window.

	Outside, it was pitch dark as I made my way to where I had last
seen the tiny orange glow, tripping and stumbling more than once.  A voice,
tinged with amusement, came out of the darkness.

	"Guerrilla warfare is not your calling, Drew."

	"I guess not."

	"Why'd you come back out?"

	"Um.  I guess, to apologize to you."  I mumbled.

	"For what?  Having your own opinions?  That's hardly a crime."

	"Don't make this harder than it already is, okay?  I'm sorry, I
over-reacted and I don't even know why I was angry.  So, well, I'm sorry,
like I said."

	"Apology accepted."  Well, that had been easier than anticipated.
I moved nearer to him, and sat to the left of him on the low wall.  His arm
slipped round my waist.

	"Let's never argue, Curtis."

	"Ha!  Like that's gonna happen."

	"Yeah, okay.  But let's not argue about dumb stuff, okay?"

	"Sure."  He pulled me a little closer and I rested my head on his
shoulder.  "You know, I meant it, if you really want me to I'll flush the
whole stash."

	"No.  You don't have to do that.  I don't mind, I was just
confused."

	"About what?"

	"Why now?  I mean, weren't we having a good time?"

	"You've lost me, man."  He sounded genuinely puzzled.

	"Why did you need to smoke?  What were you trying to get away
from?"

	"I didn't NEED to, I wanted to.  And I'm not trying to escape from
anything, it relaxes me, that's all.  Feels good.  I was only going to
smoke one joint anyway, not get totally spaced or anything, guess maybe
this evening rattled me a bit more than I thought."

	"Oh."  I could maybe have been more communicative.

	"And it makes me pretty horny, too."  He squeezed me to him and
laughed a short, low chuckle which I felt more than heard.

	"Like that's necessary!"

	"Fair point.  At least when you're around."

	"Flatterer."

	"Hardly.  You turn me on in a big way, Quinn."

	"Sure.  I think maybe that stuff's gone to your head, buddy."

	"You shouldn't put yourself down, you know?  You're a helluva guy,
trust me, I have great taste in men."  That remark, while very flattering,
reminded me of the question I had backed down from the night before, I
wanted to know more about Curtis's sexual history, but could think of no
way to ask.  And, at the same time, I was terrified of what that history
might be, and that I might prove unequal to his expectations.  I must have
been pondering that for some time, as he squeezed me to him again and
asked: "what are you thinking about?"

	"You."

	"Naturally."  He took another long draw.

	"Big head."

	"I was thinking about last night."

	"What about it?"

	"How good it was."  I could feel that he was about to speak, and
knowing him it would probably have been some sort of lame joke, so I
pressed on before he could interrupt me.  "I guess you must've, you know,
been with quite a few guys, huh?"

	"Oh, is that what's bothering you?"

	"Well, not bothering me, as such, I just wondered, 'cause you know,
you're basically my first."  A thought of Josh flickered through my mind,
but I decided that he didn't really count, at least not by the narrow
definition I was using.  In every meaningful way, Curtis was my first.  The
first person I had felt such warmth for, the first person I had wanted to
give pleasure to, you know?

	"Basically, huh?"  Damn, he'd noticed that word.  He chuckled.
"Tell all."

	"Don't change the subject."

	"Seems to me, its you changing the subject, not me.  You want to
know my history, surely I have a right to know yours too.  Yes?"

	I hesitated a moment before answering, and then seeing the truth of
his statement, said, "Yes.  I guess so."

	"Okay, so you want me to go first?"

	"Please."

	"You're not going to like it, man.  It's a long and sordid story."

	"It is?"  My stomach lurched at the thought of what I might be
about to hear.

	"Yeah.  Well, I guess it starts when I was nine, and I was selling
my ass on street corners for twenty bucks a time."

"What?"  I was incredulous.

"Dummy."  He punched my shoulder.  "I'm kidding.  You're my second, okay?
And the first to pay me for it."

"Jeez.  You sounded so serious."

"And you were so ready to believe it.  What's up with that?"  He didn't
sound annoyed, but I could see where he might be, I decided that avoiding
the question was probably the safest course of action.

"Who was he?"

"You sure you want to do this?"  He took a final drag and crushed out the
butt, letting the smoke out slowly while he waited for me to answer.  I
nodded, not trusting my voice, every horrible worst case scenario was
rattling through my brain, I was thinking the utterly unthinkable; that it
had been his dad.  And then a thought, somehow more terrible, chased that
out and I thought maybe it was Tyler.  But, no, it couldn't be.  Could it?
He must have seen something on my face because he smiled at me and squeezed
my hand.  "Relax, dude, it's nothing to worry about."

"No?"

"No.  It wasn't Tyler."  He grinned.  Shit.  Was I that obvious?

"So, are you going to tell me who?"  I realized as I said it, that maybe I
should have denied thinking it was Tyler, but it was too late now, so I had
to hope he'd let it go and continue with the story.

"Sure.  Last summer, I was making a few extra bucks parking cars at the
Country Club and there was this one guy who was home from college for the
summer.  His name was Boyd and we got to know each other.  Simple as that.
He was lonely, I was too and one thing just led to another.  We kept in
touch for a while, but I haven't heard from him in months."

"Oh.  Is that who the letters are from?"

"Boyd?"  He laughed.  "He may have been a college boy but he could hardly
write his own name, no, love letters weren't his style.  Those are my mom
and dad's."

"Oh.  Why do you have them?"

"To remind me of how they used to be.  Before the cancer, I mean."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked."

"S'okay, change the subject, huh?"

"Sorry.  Um, so how long were you and Boyd an item?"  I was experiencing
pangs of jealousy at the thought of my boyfriend having a relationship with
another guy.

"An item?  Hardly, Drew.  It was just sex, we never dated, we never talked,
we just screwed.  Which was fun, but not what I'd call fulfilling."

"Really?"

"Really.  I didn't have a hundredth of what I have with you with him.  I
felt nothing for him."  He kissed me on the lips.

"Okay.  Um, what did he look like?"

	"Typical jock, six two, gorgeous, blond and blue eyed.  The all
American boy next door.  But not too bright."  He snorted.

	"Not your type at all, huh?"  I asked.

	"No.  More your type, I think."  Ouch, that hurt.  "My type is
about five ten with brown hair and the deepest, most soulful, most
beautiful eyes I've ever seen."

	"Now I know you're high!"  I laughed at him, he was so funny when
he tried to be romantic, he just couldn't pull it off, but I was so glad we
were talking.

	"Not even close, I put the first one out, and the second was just a
cigarette."  He paused.  "I love you too much to risk pissing you off."
This was too much, I made a decision.

	"And I love you too much to tell you what to do."

	"So sweet."  He kissed me again.

	"Really.  I mean it.  And maybe I could try a little too?"  I was
hesitant, unsure of what I was about to do, but I wanted to show him that I
wanted for him to be himself.

	"You?"

	"Me."  I said with finality, my mind made up.  "You sold me on it
when it said it made you horny."  He laughed at me.

	"Okay.  You're the boss, Mr. Quinn.  But while I roll, you'd better
talk, I want to hear all about your 'basically' first time."  And he fit
actions to words, fishing the tin from the pocket of his coat.

	"Um.  Nothing much to tell, really.  The night before we left, this
friend of mine from school came round and said that he had always wanted to
be with me."

	"Yeah, you have that effect."  He muttered, concentrating on his
deft fingers.

	"Yeah, right!  So we, um, we went outside and he, um, blew me."

	"Cool."  I thought he said.

	"What?"

	"Hmm?  Nothing."

	"Um, yeah, well that's it really.  He went home, we left and came
here and I haven't spoken to him since."  Wow.  That sounded pretty callous
even to me.

	"I hope you don't do that when you get tired of me."  He looked up
at me.

	"I'll never get tired of you."

	"Says you."  He handed me the completed joint.

"It's true.  Um, maybe you should light this, I've only smoked a couple of
times before."  I handed it back to him.

"Oh, Mr. Morality!  The truth comes out now."

"I didn't inhale!"

"That's original."  He joked, flicking his Zippo open.

"It's true.  I choked every time."

"You know what a shotgun is?"

"I'm guessing you're not talking about firearms, right?"

"Spot on."  He took a deep draw on the joint, and the end glowed fiercely
as he got it started.  He exhaled.  "If you're not used to smoking, the
smoke can be too rough for your lungs.  With a shotgun, I inhale first and
then exhale into your mouth.  Understand?"

"I think so."

"Two things happen.  First, the smoke gets filtered by my lungs before it
gets to you, and second, we get to make out."  He grinned.

"It's starting to sound better."  I smiled back at him.  "Let's do it."  He
took another short drag and leant in to place his lips against mine.  I
opened my mouth to him and breathed in slowly, savoring the sensations of
the kiss, his free hand came to rest on the back of my neck.  I felt smoke
drifting into my mouth and allowed myself to inhale cautiously.  Amazingly,
I didn't cough or choke and I actually began to feel a slight, pleasurable,
tingle (matched, of course, by the intense, pleasurable tingle of kissing
him).  He sat back, breaking the kiss, with a huge grin on his face.

"You tasted good."  He said, finally.

"Thanks.  That was pretty cool."

"How do you feel."

"Warm."

"More?"

"Sure."  Now that we had embarked on this, I was starting to feel really
relaxed and had quelled all my fears.  Well, mostly.  We repeated the
process of long, slow, lingering kisses a few more times until the joint
was almost done, and then he handed it to me again.  I was feeling
pleasantly buzzed, like I was mildly drunk but still very much in control.

"Try on your own now."  He said to me.

"Aw!  Spoilsport, I liked it the way we were doing it."  He grinned at me
and I raised the last of it to my lips, taking a tentative suck I found
that I was able to handle the smoke without coughing, though I did feel the
tickle of a cough as I inhaled more deeply.  I let the smoke out slowly and
crushed the butt.

"So?"  He looked amused.

"What?"

"You okay?"

"I'm fine.  I feel a little light-headed but in a good way.  We should do
this again.  But not too often."

"Damn right.  If you're going to waste that much!"  He indicated the ruined
remains of the joint I had crushed out.  "Want some gum?"

"Why?"

"Minty fresh breath, Drew."

"Good point, okay."  We sat in silence under the trees, with our arms
around one another and just enjoyed the silence and the soft chewing sounds
and slight rustles as we shifted position from time to time.  It was
wonderful.  Finally, he sighed and with a soft grunt pushed himself to his
feet.  He held out his hands, and I took both of them and he helped me to
my feet.  The earlier argument was totally forgotten and I felt so happy to
be with him.  I leaned in and slid both my arms round him, pressing my lips
against his cheek.  He made a low, happy sound and held me close.



TO BE CONTINUED...
==================