Date: Wed, 08 Nov 2000 06:26:33 EST
From: Ritch Christopher <ballmusic69@hotmail.com>
Subject: GayMale/HighSchool/that-was-then-13-the end of the beginning.

The usual disclaimer applies. This is the 13 section of a gay story
containing graphic sex and explicit language. If you are underage and/or are
offended by such, Go Away. All rights reserved.


<><><><><><><><><><><><>


	After the birthday party at the Waldorf, the rest of the summer seemed
uneventful...as a matter of fact, EVERYTHING else seemed uneventful. Being a
student actor, it was taboo to do professional theatre. I had spent most of
my life breaking rules, why should I stop now? I picked up a thirty-five
cent copy of SHOW BIZ, and looked in the back for casting calls. I was
keeping my promise to Ian...no more 'hustling'...just honest work, even if
it meant minimum wage. I had joined the musician's union and had picked up
quite a bit of fill-in work, primarily as audition pianist and/or pit
pianist in several Broadway orchestras. Everywhere you looked, there were
musicals. From 1959 through 1963, never had there been such seasons of
hits..."Gypsy", "My Fair Lady", "Camelot", "Molly Brown", "Oliver", "Irma La
Douce", "Bye Bye Birdie", "Mr. President", "No Strings", and of course,
"Stop the World". Sometimes I had filled in as hat checker or concession
attendant for just the chance of seeing these gems, for free. This way, I
could work at Lincoln Center or Carnegie Hall and see people I had only read
or dreamt about seeing.

	I saw where some off-Broadway company was casting a revival of Irwin Shaw's
"Bury The Dead". The only role uncast was that of one of the "dead
soldiers", whose wives were begging them to lie down and go to their graves.
The role had only seven lines, but it was a good credit for your resume. I
think six of my seven lines were, "Yes". However, you were on stage for the
entire play, and still, it was a good chance to be seen, This only lasted
four weeks and led to a dramatic reading of George B. Shaw's "Don Juan In
Hell." I felt I was best suited to play "Don Juan", but the director wanted
me to try my stab at a character role and play, "the Devil". I loved it. The
reviews were quite encouraging. I was ready to assume a stage name and get
an Equity card...very illegal at my acting academy. With my new contract and
new "card", I won the role of the male lead in a revival of "Picnic". I knew
this play backwards and forwards. Then the pit pianist of "Oliver" had left
the show and I was offered the job. The score is so easy,,,mostly written in
the key of "C". I took the job, but soon got tired of the screaming kids
singing, "Food, Glorious, Food". This was no challenge to me so, I left
after two weeks. I was enjoying acting more than I had ever liked playing
the piano. So I made a decision to take the little $80.00 per week acting
jobs rather than the $200.00+ pit jobs.

	I filled my evenings going to Birdland and listening to the likes of Ella,
or the Metropole, which rotated bands every week...from Lionel Hampton to
Maynard Ferguson to Gene Krupa. At the Village Vanguard, I could sit by one
of my idols, Bill Evans, or the the Hotel Manhattan, Cy Walter, and learn
new keyboard techniques. This was really a hey-day in New York. It has never
been the same since.  Senior year at school was to start the middle of
October, so I called Jeff's parents, back home to see if everything was
copacetic with my tuition. When Jeff's mother answered the phone, there was
a nervous tremor in her tone which alarmed me.

	"Mark," she began, "Don't worry about school or tuition, we've taken care
of that...but I have a bit of bad news,,,and you're not going to believe
it."

	I braced my self.

	"Last week," she continued, "Miss Greene, yours and Jeff's piano teacher
was crossing the street at the conservatory...and was hit by a car. She died
instantly...but Mark...that's not the bizarre part...it was on September
29th...the two year anniversary of Jeff's death and the one year anniversary
of Rich's...all three on the same date... September 29th...what is there
about that date, Mark?"

	I was stunned...I had forgotten my vow to always spend that date in
bed...and once again I would be haunted by circumstances. If you had put
this coincidence in a movie script or book plot, no one would believe
it...but here it was...truth...not fiction.

<><><><><><><><><><><><>

	School started and we were thrust into plays and rehearsals of plays. I was
cast as in the male lead of "Seven Year Itch", with my favorite director in
the school. This was a dream role for comedy. I was so enthused, I took the
script home and memorized the whole role over night, The girl playing, "the
girl upstairs" was one of the best actresses, I had seen. She is still big
in the movies, today, only my friendship for her, keeps me from naming her.
We were in the middle of rehearsal, in November, and having a blast. We were
doing the scene where we both fell off the piano bench, and were sitting in
the floor, laughing hysterically. We hadn't seen one of the other teachers
come in and whisper something to our director. When we looked up, Clark, our
director, was sitting there emotionless with a look of shock on his face I
had never seen before.  At first I thought we had carried the scene too far,
Then I realized, it was something more than this.

	"Guys", Clark said, clearing his throat, "I was just told that President
Kennedy was shot and killed in Texas."

	An bomb of quiet exploded.

	"I think we should stop today...and go home...I'll see you guys on Monday."

	How many more people whom I loved and admired would I lose in my lifetime.
I had just met the President and was host at his birthday party in June. No
one in the entire school talked or looked at each other. We exited in total
solemnity, each going his own way.  As I walked east toward Fifth Avenue, I
could hear the tolling of St. Patty's Cathedral's bell. It was drawing me
near. When I arrived, thousands of New Yorkers, those that couldn't get
inside the church, were on their knees in the street and on the sidewalks,
praying, crossing themselves, saying rosaries, The sight of this sent chills
through my body.

	I went home and turned on the little Westinghouse black and white TV and
sat there, all through the night and the next day...not even bothering to
eat. On the second night, there was a knock at my door. It was Bob, a
classmate.

	"Mark,...Tom and Lou are outside in the Clark's car. We are going to drive
down to Washington and file by the bier, if you want to come with us..."

	"Let me get a warm jacket and a change of underwear."

	The drive down was treacherous. The roads were crowded. It had snowed. It
was about 16 degrees and there was ice on the highway. It didn't matter to
us, we had to go pay our respects. Hardly a word was spoken for the entire
250 miles. When we stopped for gas...again, no one ate...they had a cup of
coffee and I had a hot Pepsi. There's no use describing how we felt as we
stood in line waiting our turn for a 60 second glance at the flag draped
coffin in the Rotunda. I can still recall those feelings to this day.

	By Monday, the shock an initial mourning was over at school as we tried to
resume rehearsals in our different plays. I spoke briefly to Rick about our
"trip". He still wasn't too friendly since he had called me "queer" that
afternoon when I told him I was gay. He would talk to me as long as we were
in the company of other people. Word among the "curious" had spread and I
had a "secretive" reputation for helping guys to "come out". This amused me
when I heard it. Among the "curious" was cute little dark haired, blue eyed,
19 year old, named, Alan. He wanted to become one of the gang and asked if
he could come to Sunday's "Judy Garland" party...the more the merrier!!

	He didn't watch TV. He kept looking at all the guys in the room, wondering
who was and who wasn't...and who was doing whom...and did they really do the
things the had heard "gay" people do?? He was watching them and I was
watching him out of the corner of my eye, trying not to let on or smile. I
sat there wondering if he would have to courage to stay after all the crowd
had gone...also, wondering just how "curious" he was and where the night
would lead. Shit, this virgin business was getting to be a habit.

	My curiosity was aroused by what Alan would say and how he would get around
to the "subject". His middle name certainly wasn't "subtlety". "Hey, Mark,
listen, my mom doesn't like me riding the subways late at night, so I told
her that I would probably be spending the night at your apartment,
tonight...hope you don't mind."

	"Huh?...er...sure...Alan...you can stay...I can make the couch up for you,
if that's OK."

	"Sure, The couch is fine...you don't know how much I appreciate this."

	As the group left, Tom and Lou gave me a funny look and smile. Tom leaned
over and whispered to me, "Teaching a class, tonight, Mark?"

	I laughed as I jokingly pushed him out the door, "Get the fuck out of here,
will you?"

	"Have fun...hope he learns as well as Lou and I did...".

	"Scram."

	I closed the door and there stood Alan, looking like a lamb headed for the
slaughter.

	"Let me help you wash dishes and straighten up your apartment."

	"Be my guest."

	"I brought a change of clothes, my toothbrush and my razor, just in case I
was lucky enough to get to spend the night."

	"Just like the boy scouts, always prepared, huh?"

	"Well, not always...Oh, Mark, after we finish with the apartment, do you
think you'll have enough water for me to shower?"

	This was getting too much like a grade "B" movie with the dialogue and
action.

	"No, just to be sure...I'll let you shower first, and then we'll see if
there's enough hot water to do the dishes...OK?"

	"OK."

	"Let me get you a towel and a washcloth." I headed toward a small cabinet,
waiting for the next forthcoming question. I didn't have to wait long...I
hadn't got halfway across the room, before...

	"Mark, had you planned on showering tonight, too?"

	"I usually shower on Sunday nights, so I'll be fresh for school on Monday."

	"You wanna shower with me and save on the hot water?"

	God, how straight forward could he be? Had he read some script somewhere
from some bad gay movie??

	Well, since this was HIS night, I might as well go along with it and what
wonders would occur. The bathroom was right off the kitchenette, and the
goddamned bathroom lightbulb had burned out earlier this evening, so you had
to leave the door ajar and let he light that illuminated over the stove,
light the bathroom.

	"Oh, Alan, the bathroom light burned out, so leave the door open, so that
you can see and not fall and break your neck."

	"You didn't answer me...do you want to shower with me?"

	"Yeah, you go ahead and get started and I'll start making up your bed on
the sofa."

	I went over to the hi-if and put on the Second Barbra Streisand
Album...might as well initiate him good and properly. All the while, I kept
questioning myself if I could go through with this...or if I SHOULD go
through with this. Oh well, I had to admit I was a little horny...I had had
nothing but solo sex for about two months...and I could pretend this was
just another "trick" in the night.

	I heard the showering going. Steam was coming out of the bathroom doorway,
as I began undressing in the kitchen. I was down to my briefs when I
yelled..."Alan...can I ask you something?"

	"Sure."

	"Are you gay?"

	"I don't know...that's why I came over here...to find out."

	"You came to MY apartment to find out if YOU'RE gay?"

	"Yes."

	"Why?"

	"Someone at school said that if you were ever in doubt about your sexuality
to go see Mark...that that's the only way you could be certain."

	My reputation superceded me...I stepped out of my Jockeys and pulled back
the shower curtain to keep the water from spraying on the floor. The crack
of light from the kitchen spilled across the inside of the shower to let me
get a glimpse of my next "victim" and his ever so eager and aroused penis.
This guy was prepared in every way. He was destined to win a merit badge.

	"OK, pal, what do you want me to teach you?"

	"Nothing yet, I just want to get to know you...I want to get to know your
body...do you mind if I explore you with my hands...?"

	In this semi-dark room, feeling was about the only way he could discover my
body. You certainly couldn't see much.

	"Here, get wet and let me soap you, all over."

	I complied and stepped around him to get under the hot spray and saturate
myself on both sides. He squished the bar of soap in his hands and placed
both of them on my back and began making circular motions. The circles got
bigger as he reached to lather my ass cheeks. On about the fourth sweep, he
managed to pry them apart with one hand and rubbed my rectal opening. He
squatted on his knees to begin the soaping of the back of my legs.

	"Alan, have you ever done this before?"

	"No. I've never touched another guy in my life...but I've lain in bed at
night and surely thought about it enough, though,"

	"Well, so far, you're doing a great job."

	"Thanks. turnaround." he said all in one breath.

	I turned around in tub, in the darkness, hoping not to knock him down with
my now, fully erect cock...He continued with the washing as if I were a
vehicle in a carwash...very methodical. He soaped the front of my legs and
thighs, pushing my legs apart, slightly, when he reached the top, so that he
could lather where I was joined, the underneath of my scrotum, my balls, and
a couple of quick slippery strokes up and down my shaft. He didn't
stop...the hastily went to give my pubic hair a shampoo...then, a finger
swab in my navel...circular motions again to reach both my pecs at the same
time in opposite directions...two swift hands down my arms to my
hands...back to my shoulders, my neck...the sides of my head, where he
grabbed both ears, and pulled my face toward his. Holding on to my ears, he
twisted his head a bit and planted his lips on mine. He moaned a little with
a "Mmmm...Mmmm.". and I "Mmmm... Mmmm.", right back.

	This guy was like a hungry hyena, just waiting to pounce. The water was
pounding on the back of my neck and overflowing on my shoulders, running
down the front of my torso, rinsing the sudsy mass he had painted me with.

	"I wanna know what it feels like to suck a dick", was the last thing he
said before dropping to his knees to begin tearing at his prey, He took me
in his mouth with one gulp and was not sucking me but rather, masturbating
me with his stiffened "O" he had formed with his lips. Tip to base in a
desperate motion. After about the tenth lunge, he looked up at me and asked,
"How am I doing?"

	"Fine, but slow down a little, relax your mouth, and use your tongue."

	He was fine at taking direction. I could feel his jaw relax and he began to
savor me, more.

	"That's it,,,That's better."

	That was the encouragement he was seeking. He slowed his pacing and began
long strokes, taking me solidly down his throat. I let him continue for
three or four minutes. Then I said, "You've got the hang of it, but let me
show you how to do it with a bit more refinement."

	"Go ahead, I'm here to learn."

	I stood him up and changed places with him. This was to be one of my best
performances. I didn't want to slip up. I wanted him to know if this is what
he wanted, it had to be right and perfect, so that he would be glad he had
been bold enough to make the biggest decision of his life. I tried to
remember all the "first times" I had participated in, but Alan was so eager
and ready to make a stand, that this lifestyle was for him. I knew that this
was something we didn't choose, but something we chose to reveal and
discover about ourselves.

	I began a gentle kissing and little tongue licking, trying to show him the
vast difference of having sex and making love. I would make love to his
swollen shaft. The hot water from the showerhead was beginning to show signs
of cooling off to a tepid temperature, and then to cool. The combination of
water change and my lovemaking, caused his body to chill. His entire skin
was covered with goosebumps, as I kept on with my plight, I french kissed
his balls, the base of his shaft, the two inches below his scrotum and his
ass opening, which I began to tongue-fuck. I replaced my tongue with my
index finger and inserted it, probing for the magical prostate spot. He had
grabbed onto the shower rod to steady himself in sheer delight and ecstasy.
He wanted to "hold back", but I knew this was impossible, he was too close
to a climax and I took full advantage of it, opening my mouth for his
spurting deposit. He shot with about 10 gusts...each one larger than the one
before, and each eminent moan and "Oh", topping themselves.

	With my mouth full of semen, I returned to his mouth and let him taste the
sweetness he had just filled me with. He swallowed more of his juice than I
did.

	"Was that what you had in mind," I asked.

	"More than I had ever dreamed...Mark, would you take me to your bed and let
me know what it feels like to be fucked?"

	"No, I will take you to my bed and let you know how it feels to be made
love to...There is a big difference."

	I grabbed two towels, gave him one, and we began drying off each other.
Then when we were dry enough not to get the sheets wet, I took his hand and
led him out of the dark bathroom, through the kitchenette, the living room
and into my small bedroom. I laid him on the bed and lowered my entire body
on top of his, covering every part possible. He was hard again...I had never
gone down. I pinned his arms against the pillow, kissing him, and grinding
my crotch into his, all in one movement. We kissed, exploring each other's
oral cavities, and began making love. I used my hot breath to take a tour
down his chest, his pectorals, his armpits, his navel, his pubes, his
genitals, lifting his legs in the air and burying my face between his ass
cheeks. I inserted my tongue, as I heard him gasp. I reached under my bed
for the trusty old can of Albolene and covered my cockhead with a big dollop
of the greaseless lubricant.

	"Are you ready?"

	"Yes."

	"Then, take a deep breath, and relax."

	His legs became rigid, but I began a finger massage, first, covered in the
make-up remover. As I continued my finger fuck, he relaxed and I spread his
legs wide enough to get into position. I placed just the tip at his
rosebud...I heard no audible responses to stop me, so I began the slowest
insertion of my life. I didn't stop. I just keep the persistent forward
moving going until I was all the way in.

	"Everything, OK?"

	"Mark, it feels wonderful."

	I started an in and out movement not covering more than half an inch...then
more...and more...until I was shoving him with strokes about four inched
deep. It was time for another kiss to combine emotion with physicality.
These were still days when we didn't worry about communicable diseases, so I
didn't bother with a condum. I was satisfied I was scouting uncharted
territory. I made love to him for almost an hour...letting him assume many
and various positions...on his back, his side, his stomach, and on his
knees. With each change of events, he became, more and more willing and
submissive until I thought it was time for the "lesson" to end. I gave one
last thrust and gave him ounce for ounce all that I had until I collapsed in
exhaustion onto his sweaty back. The room was cold from where the radiators
had turned off for the night, as was the custom in older New York
apartments, but our energies had given the illusion we were in a steam bath,
radiating love heat. We lay, I on top of him, as the rhythm of our bodies
decreased to a normal breathing tempo.

	"Thank you, Mark,,,".

	"No, thank YOU,,,,".

	A long pause.

	"Mark...have you ever been in love?"

	"Yes...but not for a long time."

	Pause.

	"Mark,...I think I love you..."

	"No, Alan, you don't love me...but one day you will find that someone to
love...and when you do...you will be ready."

	We slept.


<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>


	Not all the episodes in New York were this hot and heavy...There was one
episode, not funny at the time, that makes me laugh out loud, even now...


	I remember working at the Broadhurst Theatre, one night...There was this
guy I had seen, working there, that I was instantly attracted to. He was an
aspiring actor with the looks that could make you just sit in awe. He was
that beautiful...About 23 years old...tall, muscular. built like an
Adonis...the kind of photogenic charisma, that you could put a poster of him
on your bedroom ceiling and go to sleep at night, sexually satisfied, just
by looking at him without trying to "get off",

	I didn't know how, when, or where. but I knew I would someday, go to bed
with him, so I was ready, willing, and able whenever this wonder would
eventually take place. We knew each other from our jobs.

	One early evening, I was walking down Broadway and we ran into each other.
He ran to me excitedly, "Mark, Carroll is sick tonight, and McNair, her
understudy, is going on for her. This is one talent, you've GOT to
hear....Come by the theatre about 8:30 and I'll sneak you in."
(All this and heaven too).

	The performance lived up to expectation. To thank him, I thought it only
polite of a southern gentleman to ask him to go out for a bite after the
show. We went down to my favorite little bar and restaurant on 44th, east of
Broadway. They had the greatest little jukebox, there. I had spent many
dimes and quarters listening to Ella Fitzgerald's recording of "A Beautiful
Friendship". The lighting was low and the crowd, rather sparse, after
midnight...so this could be the place and the time for my long "thought
about" fantasy to come true.  I could not keep my eyes off his pools of
blue...I could love him, propose to him and take him home to momma, all in
the same night. He was simply breathtaking.

	He had two Scotch and waters...I had two Cokes with a twist. He had eaten
Italian food earlier and had a faint odor of garlic on his breath. The
combination of garlic and Scotch aromas, had always worked as an aphrodisiac
on me. After the second drink, he became more mellow and things began to
happen. Underneath the booth we were sharing, across from each other, he
stretched his leg forward and began rubbing his calf muscle with mine.  His
overture was the signal that he was turned on...and I knew goddamned well,
that I was. Then he reached his hand across the top of the table, grabbed
mine, and held it.

	"Mark, would you like to have sex with me...tonight?"

	"I was about to ask you the same thing."

	"I live in Brooklyn. Is your place more convenient and available?"

	"Let's flag down a cab."

	We had begun to undress in the taxi as we headed up Central Park West. Oh I
had forgotten to mention that Ian had gone to London, and let me move in his
apartment temporarily.

	We all but raced up the stairs, laughing giggling like two school girls
going to a slumber party. By the time we reached the door, he had already
taken my shirt off, twirling it in the air like a lasso. We burst into the
darken living room after slamming the door, and in two minutes we were both
naked and made a dive for the queen size bed. We kissed, running hands over
each other in a sped-up foreplay. We were BOTH excited,,,in every way.

	I made an effort to go down on him but he stopped me..."After seeing the
size of that thing of yours, I want it up my ass. I want you to fuck me
Mark!!"

	Who was I to say, "NO"?

	He reared up on his hands and knees assuming a doggie position, while I
reached for the Albolene.

	"No, no, none of that stuff, I want you to fuck me with spit?"

	What a time to be dry in the mouth...come on, salivary glands, do your
stuff!!

	He was rocking his ass toward me with an uncontrollable
invitation....Nervously, I was able to spit enough just to lubricate my
glans. I was about to enter his threshold when he made a sudden backward
move, to get me to enter him quickly. I was there about ten seconds when Mt.
Vesuvius began to rumble...It was he...the Italian meal was about to
resurface in a different form, as he opened up and began to shit all over
me, the bed, the clean sheets, the carpet...everywhere. I had never seen
such a bad case of diarrhea. I was drenched and saturated, all over. I felt
as Carrie would feel, years from now when Stephen King would right about her
and the pigs' blood at her prom.

	In all my nights of hustling and wild lovemaking, nothing like this had
ever happened before...and now that it had,,,what do you say? Nothing...I
would let HIM say it. My second thought was...was this a fetish or some wild
ritual I had never experienced before?

	He screamed, "OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!...Mark, I am so sorry...I am so fucking
embarrassed."

	"It's OK", I tried to reassure him..."No damage done,,,let's get up and go
get in the shower..."

	"NO, NO, NO, I can't even look at you."

	He jumped out of bed grabbed his clothes, and began dressing without so
much as bothering to clean himself. No matter how I tried to  make things
all right, he had one goal...to get out of there as soon as possible. He had
his pants and shoes on, holding on to the rest in a heap as he ran out the
door. I looked at the condition of the room and slowly started stripping the
soiled linens off the bed. An hour later, when things looked back to
normal...I opened a Coke and sat down on the bed and began to laugh and
laugh and laugh, When I stopped, I lay down and began comtemplating the life
of a celibacy by joining a monastery...I laughed again.


<><><><><><><><><><><>


	A more important episode occurred which changed my life 180 degrees and
almost 360....

	It was February. Cold as hell. There was about nine inches of snow on the
streets of New York and more expected. A few of the "brave" had gone to
school on that Friday. With the onslaught of another blizzard on the way,
classes were cut short. Some of the kids who commuted from Jersey, would not
be able to make it home due to the weather conditions, So it was asked of
us, whom had apartments in the city, if we had extra beds and could extend
invitations to our classmates in need. I had the sofa in the living room,
which I immediately offered. I only had one taker...Sandy...a beautiful
blonde, actor, singer, dancer,,,ACTRESS!! Fuck! Just my luck...with all the
hunks in the school, I was stuck with a hunkette.

	Sandy and I took a subway and walked the rest of the way to my apartment.
It was almost 6:00PM by the time we arrived. Guess what? There was no
fucking heat in my apartment. I warmed some soup for us, as I had not yet
done my weekend shopping. We kept on our winter coats through dinner. We
watched TV. By 9:00PM, you could see your breath when you exhaled. It was
now time to plan for survival. In all my life, I had never been alone with a
member of the opposite sex. It was never necessary for any desire, will, or
reason. It would be all right if we slept together...I had never been turned
on by any girl and I was too gay to change now, I took every blanket, sheet,
pillow, even my towels and piled them high to ward off the below freezing
cold. It would be warmer if we went to bed. I didn't know if Sandy knew of
my being homosexual, but this didn't matter in our life or death situation.

	"I got snowed in at a ski lodge one evening and we had no heat, just like
now," she said. "and the clerk at the lodge told me and my girlfriend, it we
took our clothes off our body heat would keep up the warmest...Wanna try
it?"

	Thinking I would be dead from the cold in the morning, I stripped to my
Jockeys and she, to her panties and bra. We got into bed and she scooted her
back close to my front in a spoon position. The bed was shaking as we
shivered in unison,,,but slowly, our bodies began to warm by flesh touching
flesh. I had my arm over her. Where was Rock Hudson when you needed him?

	"Is it my imagination or are we getting warmer?" I managed to say without
my teeth chattering.

	"The body heat is working."

	Maybe we could go to sleep and not die, tonight. The idea of my being found
dead, frozen stiff, almost naked, embracing a woman was NOT the way I wanted
my legacy remembered.

	And then, to my dismay, this blonde snow bunny, put her hand around to her
back and started touching me between my legs. Oh no, this was definitely NOT
going to happen. To keep from making a scene, I said nothing and tried not
to notice. Of one thing I was sure about my sexuality...no female could ever
get me hard...so I thought I would let her play her game and see the
futility of her action. She would eventually quit out of frustration, I
thought.

	Since I hadn't made a move to stop her, she thought this was an acceptance
by me to let her delve further. She grabbed my cock, still, protected by my
briefs, and began to squeeze it, The more she tried, the "softer" I became.
I knew she was puzzled. Finally she with a sudden thrust, she rammed her
hand beneath my waistband and got a firm lock on my cock. She massaged my
balls, tried to pull on my flaccid shaft, to get a rouse out of me...it was
time she wanted an explanation.

	"What's the matter, Mark?...Don't you like this?...Doesn't it feel good?"

	"Oh yeah, it feels good all right...but I'm afraid you're wasting your time
and effort."

	"Are you impotent?"

	"Sorta...you see I like guys...when they do that to me, I go get
excited...but this, tonight, just ain't gonna happen." I thought with my
declaration that would solve my dilemma.,,but I was wrong...she would let go
of her grasp.

	"You've never has sex with a girl?"

	"Nope...and never tried it and never will...Sorry, Sandy."

	She continued to pry..."No girl has ever got you excited?"

	"Nope...I don't think it's possible."

	"Wanna make a bet I can get you excited."

	"I'll take any bet you offer, but you're wasting your money. You will
lose."

	"Would you let me, at least, try?"

	"Be my guest...but there's no use."

	She moved like a pro...plowing under the covers, snatching down my briefs
and planting her mouth on my cold shrunken penis...and suddenly, like
Lazarus from the dead, it moved...I was beginning to get hard. I lay there
like a virgin on her wedding night. I held my breath and tried to clear my
mind and think of other thoughts...My thoughts were always filled with the
men I hadn't had yet,,,but this was the WRONG thing to think about, now. As
the array of fantasy man crossed it my psyche, the harder, I became...this
was unfair,,,I was in trouble...deep trouble. She knew she had me where she
wanted me. When I was fully erect, she moved her body upward, so quickly, I
was in her cunt before I knew it, She pumped one time and I came inside her,
instantly,

	"Oh God, I'm so sorry.."

	"I'm not," she smiled, "You lose."

	"Hadn't you better go douche or something?"

	"I'm not about to set one foot on that icy floor...and besides, don't
worry, I just finished my period and this is the safest time to have
unprotected sex."

	What happened the rest of the night isn't important, but the idea of
becoming a monk was becoming more and more a possibility. I had to give up
sex. FINAL!



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	It was time for graduation. Most of the class was going to meet at Roseland
and have an old fashioned prom. I went stag. At one point, one of my female
directors asked me if I would waltz with her, so like Marge and Gower, we
took to the floor, with graceful glides and sweeps of grandeur, we floated
around the dance floor. On our third chorus of "Around The World", we
accidentally bumped into a couple. It was another director and Sandy. After
the four of us collided. I apologized and Sandy looked me in the eyes and
ran out of the room, as if Cinderella had just heard the first chime of
midnight. Thinking I might have hurt her, I ran after her and she had exited
to the outside balcony, overlooking the busy nighttime New York traffic.

	As I approached her, I said, "I'm sorry...I hope I didn't hurt you."

	She burst into tears..."Mark, I got a job this afternoon,,,I've got an
eighteen month bus-truck tour of 'My Fair Lady'...but I can't take it."

	"Why, for God's sake?"

	"Mark, I'm pregnant."

	"Shit, sorry to hear that...When does the tour start?"

	"We go into rehearsals in August and I'll be almost in my sixth month."

	"Does the father know?"

	"Not yet, but I'm about to tell him...Mark, you're the father?"

	"What???...Oh, no...no way...how can you be sure?"

	"You're the only guy I had sex with for three months. It has to be yours."

	"But we didn't fuck!!!"

	"I know, but you came...You came, and I'm pregnant."

	I felt a sudden urge to jump off the balcony and land in the middle of 50th
Street.

	And like a despicable rat, I exclaimed, "Oh no, you're not blaming this on
me!!"

	In an automatic response she turned and slapped me hard across the cheek.
"You bastard...you goddamned, cocksucking, bastard,"

	She ran back into the ballroom, down the stairs, flagged a cab and headed
toward Jersey.



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	To shorten the chain of events. I called her on Monday and she agreed to
meet me to discuss the matter at hand. In those days, there were no
clinics...no legal abortions...just the chance of an unclean surgical
procedure that one could get in west Harlem for a hundred bucks. I still had
enough southern upbringing to offer to do the honorable thing, I would marry
her, give them baby a name, and then we could put it up for adoption. I had
already made plans for the summer. There was a new musical opening in the
fall and I was to play pit piano nights and conduct the Broadway orchestra
for the two matinees, We scouted for an illegal clinic. Finally, giving up,
we met at City Hall on July 19th, got a license and were married by a notary
public.

	I had stopped myself, many times to curse "that cold night". How stupid
could I have been? I fucked one girl, one night, lasting one stroke and got
trapped for life. No wonder the world was turning gay. After the ceremony,
which we had told NO ONE about, she went home to Jersey and I, back to my
apartment. We still didn't know what to do for the future. Without my
knowledge, Sandy had gone ahead and signed with the "Fair Lady" tour. I
didn't have any idea as to what she was thinking.  Two days later, I called
her and she told me she was starting rehearsals in Brooklyn.

	"What about the baby?"

	"Don't worry Mark, I know how to take care of that problem." she said,
trying to reassure me.

	A week passed. I called her several times and no one answered. Then on the
following Friday night, someone knocked on my door. It was a handsome guy,
in his thirties. I opened the door and he asked, "Are you Mark?"

	I nodded.

	"My name is Brad. I think you have a friend named Sandy. May I come in?"

	"Sure, I've tried to call her all week and got no answer...Is she all
right?"

	"No, Mark, I'm afraid Sandy is dead."

	"What?". I sank to the couch..."How? Why? What happened?"

	"It was an accident...the police ruled out suicide, but it looks like she
did it accidentally, on purpose...She was rehearsing in Brooklyn and told
one of the other dancers she was going to fall down a flight of stairs in an
effort to abort her baby...You knew she was pregnant?"

	Again, I nodded.

	"She must have tried to hard...when she fell, she broke her neck. The baby
was still-born. It was a boy."

	I began to cry, whimpering, at first, but then I lost control and went to
pieces. Brad came over and embraced me, giving me the "shoulder" I needed.
How many more times would my world come to an end? I had gone through Jeff
and Rich's deaths...but this time...this was different. Newley and
Bricusse's "What kind of fool am I, who never fell in love. It seems that
I'm the only one that I have been thinking of,,," was racing through my
mind, This song would haunt me throughout my life.

	Brad held me like a long-lost friend...a father...a lover, not knowing at
the time he would soon become all three.


	Brad's and my courtship, our romance, our sex is another story, but over
the years, he filled every hole and gap that had been missing my whole life.
When I became seriously ill, six months later, with all expectation of
dying...Brad was there. When I gave up hope and wanted to return to my
southern home to die there...Brad came with me, to be by my side. I didn't
die as you know by now and was explained in an earlier segment.

	We got a house, a car, a dog, jobs, and a new life...together. We were
bonded as two gay men could ever be...forever...until the day, I heard that
Lance was home on leave from the army and I decided to call him...

	That was where this story started...and this is where this story ends. I
mean "that was then, but this...?"

	Someday, I'll write the rest of it.....


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All rights reserved. Copyright by Ritch Christopher, November 2000.