Date: Tue, 15 Aug 2006 17:42:12 +0000
From: rich h <palouse1@hotmail.com>
Subject: Seal Rocks Part 12

Here, embarrassingly delayed, is the next part of the story.  My apologies
for that delay, and especially to the folks who've e-mailed asking what was
going on.  Life was going on, in essence, and writing has to take a back
seat sometimes.  Please let me know what you think of the story - I actually
enjoy getting critiques, compliments (especially those, no surprise), even
flames.  At least I know then that someone's interested!

The usual caveats apply here.  This is entirely fiction, though I do include
actual places to ground the story.  It's my property, subject to Nifty's
User Agreement, and if it's ilegal to read this stuff where you are turn
around now.


                     Seal Rocks Part 12


      The next morning, Jesse watched from the T-Street
pedestrian bridge as his father's funeral boat slowly motored to the
back side of Seal Rocks.  He remembered his father paddling him out
there in the summer after fourth grade, Jesse clinging to his father's
eight-foot board for dear life and his father reassuring him the whole
way.

         The world on the far side of the rocks was different somehow.
The noise of the breakers inshore was almost inaudible, and the beach
itself seemed an eternity away. Dolphins splashed between their board
and the rocks, and Jesse could see them, and the seals as well,
flashing by underwater.  A few seals poked their heads above the water
and stared at them, regarding them with a dog's curiosity. The ones
draped across the rocks barely stirred from their daytime torpor.  The
air smelled faintly of the salt spray, damp stone, bird guano, rotting
seaweed, and seal excrement. It had an oddly fresh and invigorating
quality.

    "Let's go closer, Dad," he pleaded.

    "No Jesse, the seals own the rocks.  We just visit."

   "But I see people boat out here and climb on the rocks
all the time."

   "Some do, but not us.  We respect their privacy - their
home.  They're God's gift, son."

    And there they sat, for almost an hour, watching the seals above
and below the water, the dolphins, the seagulls and pelicans that flew
past, the feeding frenzy that erupted when a school of fish ventured
too close to the rocks - seals and dolphins slashing the water from
below, while pelicans divebombed the surface from above - about 100
yards beyond their resting place.

   When his father lowered himself to start paddling back,
Jesse cried, "No, no, I want to stay!!"

      "Time to leave them alone, son.  Let them rest."

    That morning, as they arrived back at the beach, had been Jesse's
first ride on a surfboard alone.  His father had helped him paddle into
a wave, then rolled smoothly off as Jesse stood and pressed the long
board's nose down and across the foaming face, a board so big compared
to him that it would've taken a sledgehammer to knock him off it, and
his mother had run along the beach cheering for joy as he brought the
board all the way in, until its fin ground against the coarse sand.
His face felt like it would split in two with his grin.

     Now he watched the rented motorboat bob precariously about 50
yards outside the rocks, and through binoculars saw his mother and Ben
lean over the side as Pastor Ed read from the Bible or something.  His
mother lowered the urn to the water and spilled it, a small dusty
specter rising for an instant as the dark ashes swirled down into the
sea.  The noise of the boat's horn arrived a few seconds later as she
straightened up and looked towards where Jesse stood.  He waved.  A
small Marine honor guard stepped forward in place of his mother, and
fired off five rounds, the smoke puffing away from the rifle barrels
long before the snapping reports reached his ears.

     Mike kept an iron grip on his shoulder.  "You OK, Jes?"

     "Ya."  His father's back was strong as he paddled them out to the
rocks, with faint scars visible where the shrapnel had cut him up.
"Ya, I'm OK."

     "We should get you back into bed, dude.  You got a
doctor's appointment this afternoon.   You didn't sleep worth shit last
night."

   "I'm OK," Jesse said vaguely.  He didn't want to sleep, he didn't
much want to be awake.  Everything had merged into a bullshit
pseudoworld that he wandered through like a ghost.  His dad splashed
the water by their board, trying to get the dolphins to come closer.
Mike was slowly pulling him to the car.  Tina's brains were sprayed
across the dining room wall.  The online world knew how high he could
shoot his come.

     Mike looked worriedly at his mother as he buckled Jesse's seat
belt.  "Mom, this isn't right.  Jesse's like left the building here.
We gotta do something."  The tone in Mike's voice was desperate, almost
crying.  Jesse looked into Mike's eyes, saw the tears forming, and he
snapped back.  He needed Mike to be there, to be with him, to be
strong. He couldn't' hurt Mike, of all people not him - he might go
away too.

     He pulled Mike into an embrace and started crying -
again.  "I'm sorry," he spluttered.  "I'm so sorry.  Don't be mad or
anything, please."

     "Mad?!  Dude," Mike was starting to choke up himself, "I can't be
mad with you.  We - we're buds and - and all, right?"  He glanced at
his mother as he said this, then back at Jesse with a tiny glint in his
eyes.  "Let me help you, Jes, please.  I wanna help."

    "I know," Jesse sniffled.  "I wish I knew what to do.
What to ask for."

     Mike's mother leaned back, her eyes moist as well, and rubbed his
knee.  "It's so hard, Jesse, I know.  I can't imagine how hard it must
be right now.  Just know that we're all here for you, all right?
Whatever you need."

   Jesse nodded, staring down at his hands.  They seemed unnaturally
far away from him.  He raised them slowly as if for the first time,
trying to get a measure of their size and mobility.  "I think my head's
still fucked up or something," he muttered to himself.  "Messed up, I
mean," he added hastily, looking at Mike's mother nervously.

    She smiled.  "Nothing I haven't heard before, Jesse.
Your mother said you have another appointment at the hospital today;
you should ask about how you're feeling.
I'm sure the concussion isn't helping at all."  She started the engine
and backed out of the diagonal parking space that had been reserved for
them right next to the overcrossing.

     As they drove up the hill, Jesse took several deep
breaths, leaning out the window a bit to let the cool morning air blow
his hair.  It cleared him.  He looked at Mike, who he knew hadn't taken
his eyes off him, and smiled. When Mike didn't smile back, he winked,
and nudged his hand against Mike's.  He glanced down at Jesse's hand
and covered it with his own, and they went on in silence.

     Dr. Stassi was pleased with Jesse's progress. After another scary
session in the MRI machine, Jesse got a clean bill of health.  "Your
concussion looks like it's pretty well resolved.  The reason you've
been feeling so odd the last day or so is that your medication was
getting too strong for you.  We'll wean you off it now, with a pretty
dramatic drop immediately. You'll feel a little woozy the rest of
today, and by tomorrow you'll be back pretty much to normal."

     Jesse nodded.  "Good.  I've been like all weird lately, I thought
it was me and all."

     "You've got good reason to feel out of your element, Jesse - some
pretty major traumas have happened here."  He paused.  "We need for you
to meet with a Social Services caseworker, because of the domestic
violence issues.  I delayed it as long as I could, but they need to
speak with you.  They've already met with your mother and brother."

    Jesse frowned.  "What about my tongue?"  he asked, trying to
deflect the discussion.  "Can I eat regular stuff yet?"

    Dr. Stassi smiled and nodded.  "Just no glass chewing for a couple
of weeks, OK?"

    Jesse grinned and tried to think of another subject to bring up.
But before he had time to articulate anything, a small rotund woman in
a slightly scraggly brown dress suit had walked in to the examination
room, her glasses dangling on a cord around her neck. "Hello, Jesse,"
she chimed up in a falsely friendly voice. "My name is Erika Vasquez,
and I'll be talking with you today."  Her hair was pulled into a frizzy
bun, with a few strands escaping their prison to dangle out like dark
wires. "May I be alone with Jesse for a little while?"

     Dr. Stassi and the nurse dutifully left, and Ms. Vasquez made sure
the door closed tightly behind them.  She sat on the stool facing
Jesse. "Well, we have a very sad situation here.  I'm so sorry for your
loss."

     "Um, thanks."

    "Now, Jesse," she said calmly, smoothing the front of
her skirt, "do you know why I'm here?"

     Jesse shrugged.  "Probably cuz Dad shot himself and
all."  His voice was leaden.

     "Partly.  But also because there was a pretty significant domestic
violence incident that led up to that." She paused.  "And some fairly
serious medical findings about you, that raise some important questions
about both your parents."

     "Both?"  Jesse asked.  He was trying his hardest now to focus on
her through his fog.

    Ms. Vasquez nodded grimly.  "Both.  We know what your
father did - "

    "I told everyone he didn't do that!  Don't you people
listen - "

     "I know what you told people, and what your brother has been
saying," Ms. Vasquez continued.  "We understand how difficult this can
be for you."

    "My dad didn't molest me, how clear do you want me to
be?"

    Ms. Vasquez sighed and straightened up a bit.  "Then
you need to explain to me how you sustained the sort of traumatic
injuries the doctors found when you arrived at the hospital."

     Jesse felt his face reddening.  "I - I got hit.  He hit me."

       "And the rectal trauma?"  She was clinical now,
emotionless.

     Jesse gulped.  "I - I just - you know - tried some stuff out.  On
myself, like.  You know, like experimenting and stuff.  Like kids do,
right?"

     "And what did you use?"

     Jesse's mouth froze open.  He had no idea what to say. He
scrambled for an answer inside his head, but nothing came.  He realized
he was blinking, while Ms. Vasquez was sitting very calm, watching him
keenly.  "Broom." He finally blurted out. "Broom handle."

     "You inserted a broom handle into yourself?"

    "Yeah, y'know, just, just like, to see."  He tried to shrug it off
as no big deal.  Ms. Vasquez continued her unwavering stare for another
few seconds.

     "All right, Jesse.  We'll leave it there for now.  But we WILL
talk again, all right?"  Her smile was forced, artificial.  She stood,
and Jesse instinctively stood as well.  "No need," she waved him off,
"I can find my way out."

     Mike sat silent in the bedroom later that afternoon as Jesse
recounted the conversation.  "Dude, you have to tell her the truth.
She'll keep at you and all, and it'll only make things worse for your
mom."

     Jesse sighed.  "If I tell her, then she tells my mom. That'd kill
her, especially now.  I gotta keep it quiet, for a little while
anyway."  He looked up.  "And I can't let anything bad happen to you -
if it gets out, what'll your parents do?"

    Mike frowned.  "I dunno," he said quietly.  "I don't
think they'd be too happy, that's for sure.  I mean I'm their stud
surfer boy and all, pictures of me with the prom date and shit.  I
think my dad - " he hesitated, swallowed hard - "My dad would be like
crushed."  He took a deep breath.  "And then there's the Voyeur thing."

     Jesse nodded.  It was all getting too complicated.  He crawled
across the floor and onto the bed next to Mike.  "I just want to be
here.  With you.  None of this other shit."

    Mike put a hand in his hair and pulled Jesse against
his chest.  "I know."



     The rest of the week seemed a blur.  There was a large memorial
reception, at which dozens of ex-Marines and work colleagues of his
father's hugged him, slapped his back, commiserated with him, and
offered him their help.  There were evening meals at Mike's house, with
both mothers working hard to keep things on as light a note as
possible. There was Ben announcing that he was taking a year off from
Berkeley and dropping out of ROTC to help Jesse's mom, and Jesse's
mom's initially angry, but grateful, reaction.  There were more trips
to the doctor's, with the stitches finally coming out of the bridge of
his nose,leaving only a slight red mark.

     There was Mike, next to him in bed every night, as Jesse tried to
fall asleep with only occasional success. They didn't make love.  Mike
seemed scared to make a first move, and Jesse was too preoccupied to
have much interest. But they talked, and were close, and the easy
intimacy they developed was far better than any orgasm could have been.

     On Thursday, Jesse's mother announced that the house was ready for
him to move back in.  "It's all fixed and very nice," she assured him.
"I'm sure you'll like it."  They made plans for Jesse to stay beginning
Friday night back at home.

   Jesse was relieved, and sad.  The thought of returning
to normal, even in some small way, was comforting, but leaving Mike's
bed was painful, and only got more so the more he thought of it.  That
night they lay together, naked, and just touched each other, crying in
their turn, until they fell into a troubled sleep.  They both knew they
had an appointment the next day.

     They slipped out Friday morning unnoticed on their bikes, cruising
down to San O in the hot morning sun.  On the whole ride, they were
silent.  Ernie's RV was in its usual place near the south end of the
park.  Its door opened as they approached, and Ernie emerged,
shirtless, and smiling.  "Hello Ron," he said to Jesse, "and Jamie."

     "Hi," they answered, a bit confused.  Another man was emerging
from the RV - an older, balding guy in a too-loud aloha shirt and
tinted glasses.  This guy's a walking clich‚, Jesse thought.

     "This is Denny Falcone, boys," Ernie smiled.  "The head of Voyeur
Video."

     Mike blinked.  "I - I thought - "

     "Nope, I'm just a photographer or them," Ernie said cheerfully.
Jesse realized Ernie was nervous.  "Denny runs the shop."

     Falcone extended a meaty hand.  "Good to meet you boys," he said
in a tobacco-thickened voice.  "Great product we have in you two."

    "Um, thanks," Jesse said as his hand disappeared into
Falcone's.  He looked over at Mike for guidance.

    Falcone gripped Mike's hand in turn, then clapped his
hands together.  "Let's go inside."  The boys numbly
followed him in, with Ernie bringing up the rear to close the door.

    "Juice?  Coffee?"  Falcone had a tray of beverages in front of him
at the table.  The boys shook their heads. "Well, Ronnie, I'm glad to
see that you recovered from that skateboarding accident.  You look just
about good as new." Jesse glanced at Ernie, whose face was impassive.
"You ought to know that there's a real big demand out there for more
footage of you two together.  You're a very hot item right now.  We
even have some calls from the mags, Freshmen and like that, asking for
photo layouts.  Now I'm not sure that's a good idea right now," he
continued, noticing the boys stiffen, "but it shows how popular you
are.  I kind of like keeping you two a bit of a mystery - better for
all of us."  He smiled, extremely happy with himself.

     Ernie stepped forward.  "I have some ideas for the next shoot, if
you boys are interested in doing it."  He looked hard at them both.
They hesitated, then nodded.  They knew damn well they couldn't say no.

    Falcone beamed. "Excellent.  Why don't we meet at the
Trestles lot Monday morning and we'll get it done."

     "There?" Mike blurted out.

     Falcone roared; Ernie smiled tolerantly.  "Not quite," he assure
them. "I have a couple of locations in mind. It'll be very safe, very
private.  We'll have one other person with us - a sound man.  That'll
make things even more realistic.  About 9 OK with you two?"

     The boys nodded.  "Excellent.  Now," Falcone leaned forward a bit,
"this'll be a much more, um, intimate shoot than the one Ernie here got
of you boys on the beach.  Lots of close-ups and concentration on
facial expressions.  That requires some, well, grooming."  He sat back.
"Why don't you boys take off your shorts and let's have a look."

    They froze.  Jesse felt his face redden even further.  He glanced
at Ernie, who calmly nodded:  do it.  Jesse started fumbling with the
cord of his boardshorts, barely noticing Mike doing the same next to
him.  The shorts dropped whisperingly to the floor.

    Falcone leaned forward again, his eyes keenly inspecting them now.
"Not bad, not bad," he said.  He lifted Jesse's cock and ran fingers
over his balls.  "No hair, good.  Your ass got any hair?"



    Jesse blinked owlishly.  How the hell did he know that?  But Mike
spoke up:  "No."  Jesse looked at him, and he smiled slightly.  "I can
vouch for that."

    Falcone nodded and turned his attention to Mike, inspecting him as
well.  "Just a little shave here on your balls, Jamie, and you'll be
fine.  What about your ass?"

    It was Jesse's turn.  "Nope, he's all smooth there too."

    "Good."  Falcone sat back.  "You gotta understand, boys, the
smoother you are, the more it sells.  That's the product, y'know?  So
keep yourselves nice and trimmed - not too much pubic hair or anything
- and you'll be fine."

    Mike looked vaguely nervous, for the first time.  "So I have to -
to like shave myself?  Down there?"

    Falcone grinned, a huge earsplitting grin that showed his yellowed
teeth.  "Have Jesse do it - he'll be real careful I bet.  He like `em,
after all."

    "Well, what about, like, Nair or something?"

    Falcone shook his head.  "Burns the skin, son.  Believe
me, you don't want to do that."

    Mike nodded, his eyes not focusing on anything.  "OK."

    Falcone clapped his hands.  "Now, I just need one more thing."  The
boys glanced at each other again.  "I know how well you shoot, but I
want to be sure that none of your pubic hair goes out onto the shaft of
your dicks when they're hard.  So why don't you get boned up here and
we'll have a look."

    Ernie, as if anticipating their discomfort, stepped forward.  "Why
don't you sit here," he said as he ushered them to a small sofa toward
the back of the RV, "and watch yourselves.  That'll help.  It's helped
a lot of other guys, you know," he added with a knowing smile.

    Jesse tripped over his boardshorts around his ankles and fell
forward into Mike.  They held each other, swaying a moment before
recovering their balance, and looked at each other.  The contact
between their bodies felt warm, velvety, and safe.  Jesse relaxed into
an awkward embrace, and Mike started running his hand over Jesse's side
instinctively.  They both began to stir.  That was the important thing,
getting hard for this toad was nothing.  They smiled at each other, sat
down, and started touching each other wordlessly.  Mike leaned over and
kissed Jesse softly.  As their tongues ran back and forth, they
hardened quickly.

    Falcone chuckled.  "Kids.  They can get it up in a second.  Gotta
love that.  Now, let's see."  He motioned for them to stand up, and
took Mike's erection in his hand - not erotically, but as if inspecting
a piece of fruit at the supermarket.  Mike nonetheless let out a low
hiss from the contact.  "Yeah, just little trim here at the base - see
that, son?"  Mike nodded, swallowing.  "Now you," as he grabbed Jesse's
cock, "you look pretty good.  Trim back your pubes on the sides here
and you'll be great."  He sat back down, wiping his hands on a towel.
"Thanks boys, you can get dressed now."

    He watched them retrieve their boardshorts and pull them up,
expressionless.  When they had, he clapped his hand again and his face
lit up with that grin again.  "It's gonna be great, boys," he said in a
loud hale-fellow-well-met voice.  "We'll all make some good money
here," he leaned in closer, "and you two get to have a helluva good
time!!"  He winked and cackled wetly.

     Jesse felt dirty like he hadn't in a long time over this whole
thing.  He felt his cheeks flush, and saw Mike's redden as well.  Ernie
moved to the door.  "Thanks for coming down, boys," he said as he
opened the door.  "I'll see you Monday morning."

     They rode back in silence deeper than the trip down. Without
speaking, they both turned down the path to Trestles and set their
bikes in the brush, walking along the creekbed trail to where the beach
opened up in front of them.  A long slow right break was curling over
about 70 yards out, flowing smoothly towards shore.  Several dozen
people were out, jockeying for position on waves, chatting beyond the
lineup, paddling about idly.  They sat and watched for about twenty
minutes.  "You up for this?"  Jesse finally asked.

     "You - you and your mom need it, right?  The money and all?"

    "Ya, I think we will," Jesse said.  He felt guilty saying it.

    Mike smiled.  "Then it's cool."  He moved slightly
closer.  "And we really do get to have a good time."

    Jesse blushed and started laughing.  "Pervert."

    Mike grinned back and shoved his shoulder.  "You'd know."

     Jesse stood abruptly.  "Let's go."

     "What's wrong?"

     "I need," Jesse said, his eyes twinkling, "to perform a
life-affirming act."

     Mike grinned.  "Thank God, I got it coming out my
eyeballs."

     "Not for long."

     They rode laughing back to Mike's house in record time,
and spent the rest of the day in bed.  It was more than just
sex, it was clinging to something that was going away, a
chance passing them by unless they poured every ounce of
their hearts and souls and sweat and come into it, and they
kissed, sucked, fucked, shot, until they were exhausted.

     Jesse lay on his stomach beneath Mike, still impaled,
panting.  His own latest orgasm coated his stomach and the
damp sheet against his belly.  He felt a drop of sweat fall
from Mike's hair onto his shoulder.  He took a deep breath,
smelling all the smells of their lovemaking.  It was so
erotic he found himself hardening again, to his utter
amazement.  He moved his ass back along Mike's cock.  "Oh,
shit, Jes," he heard.  "More?"

     Jesse chuckled.  "Can you?"

     Mike's hand caressed Jesse's right hip and buttock.
"One way to find out.  But I want you to do it one more time
to me, too."

     "You got it," Jesse said, lifting himself up a little
against Mike's body and starting to undulate his hips.  Mike
groaned, wrapped his arms around Jesse's waist, and they
began yet again.

     Later, when Jesse was in his turn lying spent atop
Mike, his cock still driven deep inside, it was Mike's turn
to move suggestively.  Jesse groaned and fell away.  "I
can't," he mumbled.  "All fucked out."

     Mike somehow came up with a warm washcloth, which he
used to wipe Jesse clean.  They moved silently against each
other and fell asleep.

     Luckily, Ben found them before their mothers did.
"Guys, get the hell up!! People are gonna be here!"

     Mike and Jesse flew upright and scrambled about the
room, flinging on clothes, covering the bed, straightening
their hair, while Ben leaned in the doorway and laughed.

"I should've taken a picture of you two," he said
softly.  "I could've sold it on the Net for a billion I
bet."

"Too late," said Jesse in a breezy voice.  Only Mike
noticed the sidelong look he gave as he said it.

     Ben laughed again and left the room.

     "Dude, you gotta watch that, he'll find it."  Mike was
laughing, but also worried.

     Jesse shook his head.  "Nah, I don't think so.  I mean
you gotta find that one site, it's like a needle in a
haystack."

     "Lot of people found the needle, it seems."

     "They were specifically looking."  Jesse didn't feel as
confident as he let on, but he didn't know how else to
answer.  What if someone they knew did find the video?
Would they tell?  Would they turn them in to the cops or
something?  Jesse shook his head to clear such thoughts
away:  no sense worrying.  He pulled a Rocky's shirt over
his head and walked out to the kitchen.  As soon as he had
the sink full to start the dishes, Mike's mother bustled in
the side door from the garage.

     Jesse had thought they'd eat there, at Mike's house,
but it appeared there were other plans.  Mike's mother soon
hustled them out into her SUV and they drove up the hill.
As they approached his house, Jesse felt an odd knot grow in
his stomach.  It would all be different, even if it were the
same.  What would it look like?

     In fact, his house looked exactly the same as always.
The roses in front needed to have some spent blossoms cut
(that was his job), but everything else was as immaculately
trimmed as ever.  His mother stood in the front door waiting
for them, smiling broadly.  Jesse felt his heart stir:  he
was home.

     They had an incredible Mexican meal that night, that
his mother prepared from scratch.  There were chicken filled
rellenos, soupy beans with bacon chunks, rice, chips and
salsa, flan, and margaritas all around.  Jesse had drunk
them before with his family, but his weight loss made him
especially susceptible to their effect.  He soon was drowsy,
smiling stupidly, and looking about the room.  The glass on
the front of the china cabinet had been replaced, everything
inside appeared intact.  "Dz'it still smell special inside
the china thing?" he asked.

     His mother smiled, a bit tightly, and nodded.
"Everything is just like it was, Jesse.  It's all fine now."

     "'Cept Dad's not here," Jesse nodded.  "And Tina."  He
frowned.  "Dad never liked Tina.  He said she shed too much.
Pissed him off."

     Jesse's mother wiped her mouth with her napkin.
"Another relleno, honey?"  she asked Ben, who was looking at
Jesse very hard.

     Jesse looked around the table.  Everyone seemed to
regard him as a bomb about to go off.  He started laughing.
"It's OK, I'm not gonna start crying or ranting or
somethin'.  Just weird being here after - after everything."
He shrugged and sat back, eyes closed.  He reached to his
right and touched Mike's leg.

     That stirred Mike to action.  "I think you oughtta
crash, dude," he said, rising quickly and taking Jesse under
his arm.  "C'mon."

     Jesse smiled at him.  "You gonna stay?  I want you t'
stay."

     Jesse saw their mothers look at each other for a
moment, then Jesse's mom nodded with a smile.  "Of course,
honey.  I'll get the sleeping bag from the garage for Mike."

     "We - ow!" Jesse's foot was suddenly under Mike's, and
being ground down on hard.

     "Sorry dude," Mike said, his eyes blazing at Jesse.
"My bad.  Let's get you sacked out, OK?"

     Jesse nodded, realizing how close he had come.  He felt
suddenly tired.  He barely remembered getting into his bed
and its familiar feel and smells.

     He woke up around 2, needing to piss.  Mike was snoring
below him, curled into the sleeping bag on the floor.  Jesse
stepped gingerly over him and padded down the hall to the
bathroom.  When he returned, he stood inside his closed door
and looked at Mike's dark form.  I don't deserve this, he
thought.  After what I did to Dad.  After what I've done to
him.  What I did to everybody.  His chest tightened and he
slid down the door and sat, crying silently, for a long
while, before he finally dropped off again.