Date: Thu, 31 Oct 2002 07:06:00 -0800
From: JS Collection <js.collection@verizon.net>
Subject: Like a Promised Sunrise (Part 1)

THIS STORY IS TOTALLY FICTITIOUS. IT CONTAINS DESCRIPTIVE SEX BETWEEN TWO
MEN. IF THIS IS OFFENSIVE TO YOU DON'T READ IT. IF IT IS ILLEGAL FOR YOU TO
BE READING IT YOU SHOULDN'T BE HERE TO BEGIN WITH SO JUST GO
ELSEWHERE. OTHERWISE, ENJOY IT. JWS

P.S. MOST OF MY WRITING HAS SOME SEX IN IT. IT IS SELDOM IN THE BEGINNING
AND IS USUALLY AN INTEGRAL PART OF THE STORY. SO IF YOU'RE LOOKING FOR
JACKOFF MATERIAL YOU ARE PROBABLY WASTING YOUR TIME READING ME. JWS


	Like a Promised Sunrise (PART 1)
	J.W.SMITH




To Ken

Had I known that you would slowly break my heart
     into unrecognizable bits of misery
Had I known that my agony would leak publicly
     in front of strangers
Had I known that the solitude would stifle my breath
     making me wordless in the end
Had I known that the loneliness would rampantly grow
    twining itself about me, crushing me
Had I known all this-
	 still I would have left you complete
		For someone who wanted you more than I did
			And who cared less than you.

					Jace Deason



	"Hi, Uncle Jace? This is Judd."

	My mind went into active overdrive. The baritone voice on the phone
didn't fit the little boy image in my head. I took too long to answer. He
added more information

	"I'm Tom and Betty's oldest son."

	"I know who you are, Judd, your voice just doesn't match up with
what you looked like the last time I saw you." I said, as I visualized the
beautiful little towheaded boy I remembered crying the morning I left the
Pecos ranch.

	"I'm 22 Uncle Jace." He chuckled.  "You haven't seen me since I was
13. I've grown up."

	'No shit,' I thought to myself.

	"So what do I owe this call, Judd?" I asked.

	" Dad told me to call you.  He thought you might be willing to put
me up for a bit."


	What the hell was Tom thinking? He knows I am gay.  That's why I
live in L.A. and not somewhere in Texas, near the rest of my family.  I was
19 when I had exiled myself after getting caught in the barn playing with a
hired hand. My father had fired the hand and tried to whip me with a
rawhide rope, not for playing with the hired help, but for being queer. He
had said he was going to whip the queerness right out of me; that was so
much bullshit. He laid that rawhide across my bared back three times and
then I decked him and told him I'd beat the shit out of him if he ever laid
another hand on me.  I still have the scars from that rope.

	Mom doctored my back and told me I had been disrespectful, but
then, she conceded that she would have done the same thing in my place. Joe
and Hank, my middle brothers, stared at me all through dinner that
night. I've never been sure of what they might have been thinking. My
father didn't show his face in the house until I had gone to bed.

	Hank came in my room after everybody had gone to bed.  I was
packing my clothes and a few books. He agreed it was probably best if I
left.  He said he would sure miss me. He hugged me and went back to his
room.

	After breakfast, before my brothers went out to work, Joe shook my
hand and said he'd see me sometime.  Tom never said anything to me before I
left. Betty had hugged me, kissed my cheek, wishing me the best of luck.

	When I left later that morning, only Mom and little Judd were there
to say goodbye. Judd cried and clung to me and then fled into the house.
That was the last time I had seen him.

	I talk to all three of my brothers two or three times a year.  And
my mom, well, I talk to her every month or so, but I haven't seen her since
the day I left the ranch. And my two middle brothers have come out to
visit. But not my oldest brother Tom and his family.  I think he didn't
approve of me being gay any more than the old man.

	Now Tom wants me to take his oldest boy in. There was something
fishy going on here. But, hey, he's family. I can't turn away family.

	"Well, sure, Judd, but there's one thing. I live in a loft. I've
only got one bed. You'll have to sleep on a sofa or bring a bed roll and
sleep on the floor."

	"That's no problem, Uncle Jace."

	"Okay, come on out."

	So it was set that he would fly into LAX Thursday morning. That was
only two days away. Shit, that meant that my privacy was going to be
nonexistent for at least a week or more. I had lived by myself for the last
five years. I was accustomed to not being disturbed for hours on end as I
worked at my word processor.

	I was feeling a little guilty telling Judd he had to sleep on the
floor.  My brothers and their families always stayed at a motel near
Disneyland when they came out. After I thought about it I decided to go
shopping for an old cot at the Army surplus store. I could store it in my
storage space out by the elevator after he left.

	Thursday morning, I sat at my word processor drinking my fourth cup
of sludge.  That's what I call my extra strong coffee mixed with Ovaltine
and dry milk, mocha ala Jace. I realized that I had no idea what Judd
looked like and I'm quite sure he didn't know what I looked like either. I
got a piece of foam board and printed his name in bold black letters.  JUDD
DEASON

	At 10:15 I was standing across the room from the gate that he would
be coming through soon. I watched his plane taxi up to the building and in
a couple of minutes passengers were pouring out. I held the sign over my
head looking for recognition of the name.  A few seconds after the last
passenger walked through the gate a little elderly woman was brought out in
a wheel chair. Her family gathered around her and whisked her away.

	I waited.  No one else came out.  I started toward the attendant
behind the check-in desk. Just then, a short male flight attendant came
staggering out carrying a canvas covered bedroll just like a real cowboy
carries on the back of his saddle. Behind him came a tall lanky young
blonde fellow who could be no other than my nephew. He looked just like his
dad and uncles.  My heart stuck in my throat as I looked at him. Damn, he
was good looking. I had always had this weakness for long, lanky cowboys.

	He looked like he'd just come in off the range.  From his scuffed
up old boots, and his Levi's worn low on his near nonexistent hips, and
held up by the wide tooled leather belt, fastened by a big silver and
turquoise buckle, to his western shirt, unbuttoned halfway down to his
navel exposing a furry chest, with the sleeves rolled up above his
elbows,the material stretched to the max by his biceps; he looked like a
real Texas cowboy. He was as tall as I am and probably fifty pounds
lighter.

	He saw me and there was instant recognition in his slate-blue
eyes. How not, I looked just like his dad. He grinned, and pushed his wide
brimmed hat to the back of his head, letting his white blonde hair fall
over his forehead.  He headed toward me, carrying two small bags, leaving
the little flight attendant to struggle with the bedroll. He dropped the
bags and wrapped his arms around me. I returned his hug. There was a big
'whump' next to us as the bedroll was dropped to the floor. Judd turned and
gave the little guy a one-armed hug.

	"Thanks, Danny, I don't know how I could have managed without you."
He said.

	The flight attendant looked like he had just received a special
dispensation from the Pope. He smiled up at Judd; there was gratitude in
his eyes.

	"My pleasure totally." He replied. He turned and wandered back
toward the gate. Judd reached down and took both bags in one hand and
grasped the tie-rope on the bedroll with his other and slung it up onto his
shoulder with ease. I raised an eyebrow at him and he grinned.

	"He insisted, so I let him." He said, with a shrug.

	I left him at the luggage carousel and went to get my Cherokee.
When I pulled up to the curb, Judd was waiting with two large suitcases
plus the bedroll and bags he had carried off the plane. He was shaking a
man's hand, apparently another volunteer helper.

	"Looks like your planning on staying awhile." I said, as I opened
up the rear of my Jeep. He looked at his luggage and shrugged.

	"Mom." He explained, just the one word of blame.


	I merged with the traffic on the 105 heading east. As I relaxed in
the center lane, I looked over at Judd.  I should have known what he would
look like; hell, he'a Deason.  He's tall, slender-hipped,wide shoulders,
and sexy as all get out, too. He was a wide-eyed country boy getting his
first view of L.A.

	"Okay, Judd, what has pushed you out of West Texas? And why come to
L.A. other than to see your favorite hither-to unknown uncle?"

	"A couple of reasons. One, you've worked in the movie industry and
I thought you could maybe help me." He said. I laughed.

	"Hey, you're a damn good-looking kid but this town is full of
good-looking wannabe actors."

	"I don't want to be an actor. Hell, I couldn't act my way out of a
burlap bag. No, I want to be a writer like you, Uncle Jace."

	Well, that really threw me for a loop. I had been sure he would
have dreams of being a movie star.

	"Can you write?" I asked.

	"Well, I've won a couple of short story contests. And I took what
classes were offered was offered at UTEP (University of Texas at El
Paso). My advisor suggested I check out the programs offered at UCLA,
especially script writing."

	I turned north onto the San Pedro Freeway. [It's funny how I never
refer to it by its number. I don't even know its number. It's just the San
Pedro Freeway.]

	"Yeah, UCLA has a great writing department. That's where I went to
school."  I paused. "It's a very competitive field. Not many make a big
success of it." I said.

	"You've done pretty well. I've seen your name on several TV shows."

	"I've yet to get a film." I replied.

	"You've got two successful books in print. I've read them both."

	"You've read my books?" I asked.

	"Sure."

	I was afraid to ask if he liked them. And then, I don't know that I
cared whether he did or not. Writing is a very personal thing.

	"Those books represent four years of labor. Not much money in
return." I said.

	He was quiet as I turned east on the 10 and exited on Central.  I
drove the few blocks to my alley, turned left and then a sharp right thru
the two security gates, and into the parking garage inside the old factory
that had been turned into condos. Mine is half of the top floor facing
north so I look out over the downtown area with the mountains as a
backdrop. It's a mighty impressive view.

	We unloaded and carried his luggage into the old freight lift. I
pulled the cage door down and we headed for the fourth floor. I unlocked
the heavy metal sliding door and rolled it aside. Judd stepped in and
caught his breath; my studio condo was not what he was expecting. He walked
directly to one of the big plate glass windows across the room. He gazed
out over the freeway at downtown L.A., and the magnificent San Gabriel
mountains. He turned back to me.

	"I was wondering why you would live in an old factory in this run
down area. The view is fantastic. And so is this place."  He said, pivoting
to take in the whole room. "It is huge."

	"Over thirty seven hundred square feet. It's big all right,
seventy-five by fifty. The original owner of the building had planned on
splitting this place. I got to see it before the wall was put in and bought
the whole space."

	At that moment, Gretchen and Lizz decided to make an appearance.
Both cats are blue ribbon Ruddy Abyssinians, even though they couldn't be
less similar in appearance. Lizz is long and lanky with a sleek coat,
almost reptilian.

	Gretch is small and compact. Her coat is almost coarse in feel.
Gretch came straight to me wanting to be picked up. Her most favorite spot
in the world is on my shoulders. I squatted; she jumped up and settled on
my right one with her tail wrapped around my face. I pulled it down under
my chin, as I stood up.  She rubbed her face against mine.

	Lizz had to check out the stranger in her domain. Judd stood
transfixed as she sniffed his boots and then his pant legs. He sat down on
the floor crosslegged. Liz, who is usually rather standoffish with most
people, stepped up into his lap, placed her front paws on his chest and
nuzzled his chin. That told me volumes about what kind of person Judd
is. If my cats don't like you or at least abide your presence, then I have
no use for you. And if you don't like cats, then you must be subhuman.

	"What kind of cats are these Uncle Jace?" He was stroking Liz'
back, hand over hand, and kissing her on top of her head.

	"Abbies. Abyssinians."

	"Never heard of 'em. They look like miniature mountain lions, don't
they? And Lizz's purr sounds like one. I think she likes me."

	"She is a good judge of character. So you must be a good guy."

	Just as I started to tell him not to pick her up because she goes
kind of schizy, he stood up with her in his arms. She was completely
relaxed. I had never seen her do that.  Judd walked over to the bed and set
her down on it.  She was disgruntled that he didn't continue to pay
attention to her.

	"Damn, Unk, this is the biggest bed I've ever seen."

	"It's a California King." I said. He turned and looked at me.

	"With a bed this big you're going to make me sleep on the floor?"
I ignored his question and envisioned him lying naked on that bed. I
quickly thought about boiled turnips and turned to the big French Moderne
armoire. I opened the side that I had emptied. I bought this place after
Ken had walked out of my life. I had furnished it for one person. Me.

	"You can hang your clothes in here. And that chest of drawers is
all yours. You want to get settled in while I fix us some lunch?"

	"Sure, Uncle Jace."

	The room is broken into living areas with movable screens standing
here and there to break the view. I walked into the kitchen and opened the
fridge. I had already laid out the makings for sandwiches and salad. I set
the platter on the table and got out two place mats and plates. I filled
two glasses with ice and set a pitcher of tea and a bottle of Coke on the
table. Meanwhile, Judd had opened one of the big suitcases on the end of
the bed and had emptied the contents into the chest of drawers. As he
closed it I told him to just set it over by the door, we could lock it in
the cage out by the lift later.

	"Thanks, Uncle Jace." He said as he carried it to the door. He
carried the other large suitcase over to the door and set it beside the
emptied one.

	"Judd, drop the uncle bit. I'm only eleven years older than you.
We're both adults.  Call me Jace."  He looked at me, grinning.

	"Six years? That makes you so old. I think I'd better continue
calling you Unk."

	He had turned to his other suitcase and didn't see me as I tackled
him with a headlock. I rubbed my knuckles on his scalp. He yelped and tried
to throw me off. I had fifty pounds on him. He didn't succeed.

	"Yell uncle and I'll let you go."

	"Okay, Uncle Jace." He giggled.

	"Smart Ass." I held my grip and gave him another noogy.

	"Uncle, uncle, uncle."  He yelled.  I let go and stepped back.
Smoothing his hair, he looked at me like he was trying to figure out
whether he should be angry or not. I noticed that the physical contact had
excited him. I grinned.

	"Come on, let's have some lunch."

	That decided it for him. He couldn't be angry and eat too. He made
himself a Dagwood and filled his glass up with Coke. I made myself a
regular sandwich and had iced tea. We ate in silence for a couple of
minutes. I remembered that he had said that he had a couple of reasons for
coming out here and he had only given me one.

	"What is the other reason, Judd?"

	"Reason for what?"

	"You said you had a couple of reasons for coming to L.A. What is
the other one?"

	 He ducked his head and laid his half eaten sandwich down.

	"There's no other reason." He suddenly looked like he had lost his
best friend.

	"You react like that and expect me to believe you?  Did you get in
trouble back home?"

	"No, but I probably would have if I had stayed. Please, Jace, I
don't want to talk about it right now."

	"Okay, you don't have to. Finish your sandwich."

	"Thanks, but I've had enough." He scooted his chair back and left
the table. He went back to his unpacking, doing it in slow motion. It
appeared that he was doing some serious thinking. The joy of life he had
been so full of minutes ago, seemed to have gone out of him. His skin was
splotchy, his eyes were red-rimmed and his mouth was turned down in a
grimace. We Texas tow-heads splotch when we get upset.

	I sat at the table and watched for several minutes, wondering what
his problem could be. It was obvious that it was something quite serious. I
started adding up all the facts that I had. There weren't that many, but
they all led to only one conclusion.


There's more to come.

IF YOU LIKE READING ME, I have a bawdy tale on Beginnings "Sonny and the
Law", Listed 9-17 and a three part mystery also under Beginnings "Someone
Like You" 9-23. I also have d'trois tale under Relationships "Dining Alone"
10-30.

You may flame me or whatever at js.collection@verizon.net (I find much
amusement in other peoples biases, hatreds and predujices. I also love open
minds that can accept a different point of veiw.) So let me love you(and
your mind) or amuse me.