Date: Fri, 6 Aug 2010 08:13:59 -0700
From: Jay roberts <diplomat1501@msn.com>
Subject: "The Chinese Exchange Student, Part Three" by Jay Roberts   Gay Interracial

I wore a suit and so did Mike.  We looked like two businessmen at
our table in the outer dining area.  Mike looked into the main
room wistfully, "They put us in Siberia."

"No, this room is favored by a lot of people, the menu is
slightly more modest. I like seeing the people come in.  Come on
try to control your snobbishness."

"In Hong Cong, social appearance is everything.  My Uncle jolly
well would not go to a restaurant that did not offer the best
table."

I signed.  You can't change someone on one month summer's student
exchange.  But things looked up.  Our waiter happened to be
Chinese.  An older fellow, spoke New York English, but also
Cantonese, Mike explained to me between chattering with the
fellow.  "He thinks we are lovers." He laughed and lapsed into
movie Chinese, "Who knows, old man always right."  He emphasized
it by squeezing my knee.  Because we were in full view, two young
guys across from us grinned.

The meal was perfect.  This place never misses.  Mike had fish, I
had steak.  The waiter made a gift of a desert, a lovely fudge
cake.  "Sorry no fortune cookies," he chuckled.

Mike had his usual two cocktails, I had only one drink, after
all, I was driving.  We picked up the car in the nearby garage
and sped home.  I wondered on the drive, how this night would
end.  We were both quiet, lost in our own thoughts.

As the drive went on, I began to feel unwell.  I told Mike.

"What hurts?"

"Everything.  I'm chilled and shivery. My throat feels thick and
my glans are a bit swollen.  I must be getting one of those short
term viruses.  We almost home, not a moment too soon."

Walking up the stairs from the garage, Mike put a hand on the
middle of my back, helping me climb.  Once in my room, I was
suddenly weak and very chilled.  I took off my shoes and jacket
but fell into bed with my shirt and pants on, too woozy to
undress.

As I closed my eyes, I felt the room spinning.  When I opened
them, Mike was looking down at me and he had a hand on my
forehead.  "You are hot.  Where is your thermometer?"

He got it from the bathroom cabinet.  "Too bad it's a mouth kind.
It would have been fun to give you a rectal."

This was no time for jokes.  I smiled weakly but stopped as the
glass entered my mouth.

He looked at it like a doctor.  "Son, you are sick boy.  You have
a hundred and one, a lot for a grownup.  I'm going to undress you
and cover you with extra blankets.  If you sweat, that's good."

He quickly undressed me and covered me.  I fell into a dreamless
sleep.  About two o'clock by the clock on the bedside, I awoke.
I felt a little better, but thirsty.  Somehow Mike knew I would
be.  He had sat the whole time on the chair, watching me.

"This is a drink with some herbs from my own supply.  It should
make you feel even better."

It tasted a bit like drinking flowers, but it went down well.  He
was right at hand to take the glass as I plunged into a deep
sleep.  It must have contained some old Chinese sleep potion.

The next morning, a miracle!  I was perfectly well and full of
energy.  I crawled out of bed and woke up the sleeping Mike,
curled uncomfortably on the chair.

"Hey China boy, wake up, I'm completely well."

He scrutinized me slowly, took my pulse, put his head on my chest
to listen.  Hey, this kid was a regular doctor.

"Bill, you are not completely well.  You need to hang out, mostly
in bed for the rest of the day.  Regretfully, we must cancel the
opera trip."

"I feel bad about that, it's hard to get tickets.  I will try for
next week.  What will be do tonight, now that our plans are
shot?"

He stared at me.  "I have some ideas.  I make a light dinner and
we'll see.  Right now, you ought to take a shower, you stink from
the night's sweat...but nicely."

Taking the shower showed to me that I wasn't perfectly back to
normal.  I was breathing hard as I dried.  I went back to my room
and lay on the bed to get my wind back.  Then finally got dressed
in pull on shorts and a tee shirt.

I found Mike at the piano, doodling away at a strange song. "I
didn't know you play.  You are full of surprises.  What is that
odd melody?"

"Hah, I have been writing tone poems using the western musical
vocabulary but using it to suggest old Chinese tunes.  It has
been well received at home."
Suddenly he stopped and looked at me searchingly.  "You know,
you're swaying a bit.  Time for a nap while I make us some
lunch."

He was right.  That virus really had taken the starch out of me.
I went back to bed gratefully.

End Part Three