Date: Sat, 26 Apr 2003 21:34:27 EDT
From: KissAndCuddleGem@aol.com
Subject: Dad's Just Desserts (Installment 5)(by KissAndCuddleGem)

This story is purely a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons
living or dead, or to events that may have occurred, is purely
coincidental.

Moreover, none of the actions of the characters in this story is presented
with the intent to condone, approve, or sanction their behavior.

The above-expressed disclaimer also does apply to any and all installments
of this story, including those preceding and following this installment.

All questions and/or comments are welcome; and, if you wish to contact me,
please feel free to email me at: KissAndCuddleGem@AOL.COM; and I will most
definitely respond to email, as appropriate.


Casey was a bit baffled just moments after he found himself at the
pre-arranged meeting spot in the mini-mall area of the terminal.  He was
one-hundred percent certain that he had followed Ryan's explicit directions
to the letter, leaving Augusta International Airport and taking the tram in
the lower level two stations travelling north.  Well, he was a bit antsy
about being in Maine altogether; but when Ryan was nowhere in sight still
after fifteen minutes beyond their meeting time, he began experiencing one
of his intermittent panic attacks.

Casey felt in his chest a pounding sensation and his palms were perspiring
profusely.  He kept saying to himself: "Casey, get a grip on yourself."  He
took a deep breath; and very slowly exhaled.  He took out his cell phone
and dialed Ryan's cell phone number, leaving a very specific message as to
exactly where was standing and to the effect that he would wait there
however long it took.  He was surprised that calling Ryan for whatever
reason did not occur to him to begin with.

Casey, frankly, was in a major way just first beginning to know the real
Casey.  He understood the origin of his panic attacks just as well as he
understood himself, which was not very well, admittedly, at all.  He
wondered if Ryan would be glad to see him.  But he also wondered if Ryan
truly would be in a position to help him find the answers to all these
lingering questions as to: primarily, his father and this family history
business that his father simply was not opening up to him about; and also,
hopefully, where he himself fit in with regard to this mysterious past.

Ryan was defintely taken back by Casey hugging him so rambunctiously when
he eventually did show.  "Sorry, cuz, I got delayed in traffic, it was
murder...", he said in a very casual manner.

Thankfully, Ryan did not pick up on the fact that Casey still felt a bit
shaky inside from the earlier attack.  As Casey looked at Ryan now, he
could not help but marvel at the striking reseblance to Ryan's father,
Uncle Don.  Casey recalled that before Ryan moved away, he seemed to take
after his mother, though he still had her roseate complexion and thick,
full lips.  Casey mused to himself that if he were indeed gay, he might
perhaps want to kiss those lips sometime.  He was glad that Ryan was here,
most glad.  Ryan began grinning away, finding himself all caught up in
Casey's glee.

Ryan had packed up Casey's tree bags, including one light carry-on, neatly
in the trunk of his crimson convertible.  Ryan began speaking about
details, at times pausing to switch radio stations but otherwise speaking
virtually non-stop: "As I explained to you in the email, this Doctor
Chambers had been in Caribou, Maine for about ten years; as I understand
it, he was doing some part-time clerical work there for the National
Weather Service for about three or four of those years.  Anyway, sometime
shortly after Valentine's Day of 2000, he and his wife and two sons
relocated to nearby Waterville, reprtedly to do some hands-on research on
the French-Canadian community there that he had an interest in as a
diversion.  The last that I know right now is that in March, 2003, he
became widowed and his older son moved out after marrying some model in
California, is this; and so he decided to packed everything up and relocate
to right here in Augusta, the state capital of Maine.  It is a rather
convenient coincidence I must say, be being here and all; and, no, I don't
know this doctor, but a friend of mine says that the last name does ring a
bell, so to speak.  So now I am waiting to hear from John, this friend; and
hopefully he will have something further for us."

Casey was intently listening to Ryan; but he also was looking over Ryan and
admiring him sort of in the way a museum spectator would be admiring some
remarkable sculpture.  He thought it was safe to do this then; as Ryan was
evidently pretty focused on the road, the turns, etc.

The Ryan he remembered from his early childhood was shy, very pale, and a
snobbish intellectual-, even preppy-type that liked to play with erector
sets and literally enjoyed Science fair projects.  This Ryan had a real
nice healthy tan and sort of a sexy, cavalier manner; he was eighteen and
a-half, about 6'2", though it was hard to tell exactly looking at him
seated; and about 155 pounds with large-sized pecs very much evident
through his periwinkle blue tight tank top.  Casey thought it was nice the
way his reddish-brown hair bounced in the breeze while the covertible's top
was not up, as now.  He wanted to reach out and touch this lustrous head of
hair before him, it was all sensually-appealing to him.  There was not even
a hint of shyness about him; he looked you directly in the eye, except of
course while driving for the most part and came across as very confident
and in control.

Suddenly, Casey turned his head completely away from Ryan, staring with a
blank expreession out of his passenger-side window.  "I should not be doing
that, I don't even know anything about his personal life.  Why am I so
focused on his looks?", Casey was saying to himself as if pronouncing a
verdict of his guilt on all counts.  Ryan, upon their arrival, tipped the
doorman to his condominium unit building to bring up Casey's bags to his
seventh-storey unit.  Within minutes, they were seated together on the
living room taupe leather sofa; and Casey was contemplating the entire
situation, trying to absorb all aspects of what was potentially involved in
this arrangement.

Casey was disconcerted by the decor of the dining room and the romantic
nature of the table setting: Candlesticks neatly arranged in the center,
what looked like expensive floral-print china set out on the fancy
autumn-leaf-design place mats.  The Polynesian-theme wall hangings and the
palm fronds in the corner really threw him for a loop.  Ryan, as if
guessing his thoughts from his fixed gaze in that direction, quickly
related that he had had a noon-lunch date with an old flame from high
school; but that something arose and the plans were a "no go".  Casey was
thinking just then: "'Arose', I wish he had not quite put it that way"; and
crossed his legs, almost without even realizing it, though subconsciously
trying to camouflage his arousal regardless of whether it was truly
evident.

Casey and Ryan dined peacefully with things set up as is.  Ryan served the
meal that he planned to serve for the date; and everything was gourmet,
delicious, and, even if re-warmed, still quite moist.  Casey especially
loved the duckling with the orange sauce on the side.  Everything was
served and presented in an artistic fashion; and it was obvious even from
something as minute as the dots of garnish encircling the rims of the
plates for the various courses that Casey was very much mastering what he
was being instructed in at his culinary arts school.

At one point during the meal, Ryan gently held Casey's hand when he was
trying to emphasize a point about the fine art of cooking.  Casey was
feeling a bit lightly-headed by the whole thing and very much caught up in
the effect of the romantic ambience they were in.  The touch of Ryan's hand
was arousing him.  He excused himself as casually as possible to use the
bathroom; and while examining himself saw that a drop of pre-cum was now
oozing from his slit.  His chest began to tighten.  "This is crazy, get it
together, Casey", he was urging himself in his mind.

To curtail the evening, Casey made an excuse after dessert that he was
absolutely exhausted from the plane trip; and requested that the discussion
of their course of action be left for the morning.

A guest room with a queen-sized water bed and peach-colored satin sheets
was his assigned quarters, as it turned out.  Casey began to wonder to
himself what it meant about what he was feeling.  At the same time, he
reasoned that perhaps it did not matter in the long run what he was
feeling.  After all, his cousin's last email made it pretty clear that he
was straight.  Casey wondered whether Ryan might have been trying to seduce
him.  He found that thought upsetting; but, at the same time, even more
unsettling to him was the realization that on some level he actually wanted
to be so seduced.

The next morn, both of the cousins were definitely well-refreshed and as
chipper in spirits as a pair of chirping birds on a limb.  In between sips
of high-pulp Florida orange juice, Ryan related that he received a
near-dawn call from John.

"Yes, what is it?  Please tell me", Casey responded, seeing Ryan's
hesitating expression.

"Well, there is no other way to put it than this: Casey, Doctor Chambers
will not be much help to us with our little
'investigation'. unfortunately."

"Oh, and why may I ask is that?"

"You see, he's dead."

Ryan almost dropped his glass, upon hearing this.  There was then a period
of respectful silence.  Casey looked into Ryan's intense green eyes and
very much realized that he wanted nothing better than to just kiss Ryan
right then and there.