Date: Mon, 1 Feb 2010 07:50:04 -0800 (PST)
From: Tim Stillman <novemberhourglass@yahoo.com>
Subject: high school/incest "A Slice of Pie"

			      A Slice of Pie
				    By
			       Tim Stillman


It's spring. Imagine a time when you believe that everything will turn out
okay. I was in my 16th year. I had a boyfriend. We had been together two
years. He told me something and he cried. I had never seen him cry
before. Though it was still late March, it was hot already. We had just had
sex. We told each other, we loved each other. And we did. He said it was
his brother, who is a neat kid, and doesn't mind his big brother is gay or
has a boyfriend. He said he had to talk to me, and he was afraid it would
wreck everything.

His brother was 13, and had told my friend last night that their mother had
come on to him. My love sighed and closed his eyes as he lay his head
on. Played with his penis, we were soft now. I stroked his blonde hair, and
felt myself harden, next to his cheek. He kissed me there. He asked, you
won't go away, will you? No, babe, I told him, you're safe with me. We
stopped talking for it while. I thought about their mother. She was still
young. And she was pretty. A lot of the guys in school had the hots for
her.  She was English teacher for the 11th grade.

We were in the back yard of our house. It was late. We were partially
dressed. When you think about it I guess it's kind of hot to imagine having
sex with her. When you think of the actuality of it, he said, voice muffled
at my penis and she came onto a 13-year-old, and that 13-year-old was her
son. He turned over, looked at me. His eyes were liquid black in the
moonlight. I touched his nose with my finger. I don't want it to be so hot
this year, I wish the climate change would just -- -- I had my hand to his
face, as I caressed it. You won't think anything bad about me. Will you? He
asked.

I smiled. He was a dream. He was tawny colt like, an unlimited find. You
mean, I whispered, like its passed down in the DNA? It was maybe one in the
morning, as I if I our parents give a damn. Anyone can smoke pot in front
of them, no matter how young, even the kids, even us. Pink hair and
violins. So he described his mom, who did not have pink hair, but she knew
about violins. I describe mine, as I want to get the hell away from them as
quickly as I can please stop it. He stopped chewing on my nipple. He sat
up. He put the rest of his clothes on. I said sorry.  He said you don't
mean it. Come on, you can do it. I told him.

We're dust bunnies to them, he said. You can suck me if you like, I
whispered, and I really really want you to, I can come again. He moved a
little further away from me. You would be thinking of her, wouldn't you?
Don't be silly I started -- -- I reached over to him, I stopped. Has it
been her all the time, he asked me. I dressed as well. We had our shoes
still off. No socks. Oh my God, he looked at me. Oh my freaking God. I
turned away from him. He put his hand my cheek, his hand touched my chin as
he turned my face to him. Oh for Christ's sake. I said, look, you don't
know anything about it. He did not say anything for all of five minutes or
so. The cicadas are making that sawing sound that kept me awake most of the
night. Damn, I hate those things.

I look like her, don't I? No, I responded, no way man. We were sitting with
our legs drawn up.  What was it like? He asked me. How long ago was it? Did
you pay her? Did she pay you? Or is my brother in all of this, too? You're
sick in the head Fred, I laughed, as I leaned over to kiss him. He pushed
my shoulders back. He made me fall over. But she never hit me. I told
him. I do not hit you. You push me like you never done before. He said he
was sorry. I said it was once. The kid was not around. She's not a bad
person.

He laughed and was it funny? Sure, it was a laugh riot. I should not have
told him. I should have lied. Okay, she was sad, afterwards. Oh yeah, he
said, she's really sad all the time. My God, I've never met anyone quite
she sad, before. When she cries from morning till night. We just love her
so much. There's nothing we would not do for her. Then he looked at the
ground, picked up a blade of grass, put it in his mouth and chewed. What
was it like? I asked him. He said, don't know what you're talking
about. Asylum for a while had been in us. He comes asunder tonight, and so
I.

How old were you? Why does everybody ask how old were you?  Is there some
demarcation line? One year, one day one minute. I love you, I told
him. Somebody said, she'll have sex with him. One way or the other. It was
kind of cool, actually, he said. It's not cool. I said, to have sex with
your mother. You articulate his life in one single incident, a push of my
shoulders, we never were angry with each other before. Not ever. What I do?
I looked at him; I did not know what to say. I felt lost. I felt that
terrible moment when you know that love has gone. The first second of a
heart beginning to break.

It was before I fell in love with you, I told him. It gets messed up, he
said, to no one in particular. Before I knew what he was doing, he had
reached over to my crotch and felt my hard on in my jeans. He drew his hand
away quickly. Far too quickly. That is not the reason, I told him. Sure, he
laughed. Would you stop with this laughing thing? I asked him. It's
creeping me out big time. He said, it was her. All my life was her. She
divorced my dad, because he was drinking too much, or so she said. I was
three. She did everything in the world for me, and made sure everybody in
the world knew it. So now, she wants my kid brother, like she had you. And
she had Kenny. Kenny? Kenny? I asked in shock.

The him, that was your former love, Kenny. You know, you tell me you had
her or she had you and you love that. You love having sex with my mom. It
was fun was kicks was daring. What the fuck, I said. Then, if she screwed
the whole damn town, when do you care about your brother? When did it
become a challenge for you? Was it different for you? Didn't you kind of
love it when she sucked you off? I mean after all, you wanted it to
him. They start to go off and off just to be you, did you? You're hurt,
you're jealous, she wants Tommy, had me had Kenny had God knows who
else. You want it to be you.  Your mommy your willingly beautiful body and
sexuality and face and voice. Talk to God or somebody or a counselor. Go
home, I said, suddenly sickening. He stood up. He told me to stand up. He
clocked me in the mouth. He drew blood. I fell to the ground. He stood
there so tall. He unzipped his jeans. Took out his hard cock, forced it in
my mouth, and made me suck him, while I was bleeding.  The symbolism is
ridiculous. He moved my head up and down hard. But he couldn't come.

He pulled his cock out. His bloody cock. He knelt, slowly and with that
childish feeling inside him that you could actually read. I put my arms
around him. He began to sob. He would cry often after this, when we were
alone. And I would tell them it's going to be okay. I would tell him I
loved him. I would cradle him in my arms. After all, it's about time
somebody did. It's about damn time.