Date: Fri, 9 May 2003 18:28:07 -0700 (PDT)
From: LZ
Subject: Never Say Never, Nothing is Forever Chapter 12

    We were back in the neighborhood by eleven thirty. I
went to school to finish out the day there and tell Cholito
and Mr. Martinson what had happened in court, that I was
free.

    Cholito was in class so I stopped first by his door and
waved through its glass pane. He smiled like a circus monkey
and raised his arms in the air but pulled them down fast
when the teacher asked him what he wanted. Delia couldn't
see me from the rear door of her classroom so I went to the
front. The whole class looked at me alerting the teacher. I
waved happily at the smiling Delia and ran to my classroom
as the teacher peered down the hall.

    Mr. Martinson pushed me back out the door and gave me a
hug.

    'Don't you dare let me down.'

    After a quick check of the corridor, I returned the hug
and assured him I'd get even better.

    Cholito was at my classroom door when we got out for
lunch. He gave me six rapid but soft punches to the
midsection.

    'I tol' you they wasn't gonna do nothing. What
happened?'

    I gave it to him detail by detail, dramatizing and
exaggerating the part about Miss Peters walking out all
pissed.

    'I'll bet she'd've bit me if the judge wasn't there.'

    In the lunchroom, we told a table full of Forty-Ninth
street kids about it. Cholito did Miss Peters leaving the
courtroom.

    After school in the basement, naked but not doing
anything yet, Cholito admonished me, 'you gotta be a angel
for a while. That Miss Peters' gonna be watchin' you real
close.'

    We made love, slowly, savoring each other's closeness.
Cholito held me tighter than he ever had before. We only
came once but must have laid there wrapped in each others
arms for ten minutes afterward.

    I had no thoughts about informing my biological father
how it had gone. He hadn't done a thing to help though he
was probably right to think there was no real threat. The
judge had called the fight a school matter and not a juvy
court case, which meant that someone had pushed it into his
hands in hopes if hurting me. That pissed me off. Still,
there really never was any danger of me being put away.

    Saturday at nine in the morning, wearing my overalls, I
met Bill at Tad's.

     'The day is free and all yours,' he told me. 'We can go
for a drive wherever you want, go to a movie, swimming, a
park. I've got baseball gloves, bat and balls. You name it.'

     On television, I'd seen fathers play baseball with
their sons. It had become my image of what fathers are
supposed to do with their sons. I immediately opted for the
park.

    On the way, I told him all about the court hearing
though less dramatized and more accurately than the version
given my schoolmates and explained what had led up to it. He
embraced me and kissed my head.

    'So, no more fighting?'

    'No more fighting, promise.'

    'I wouldn't want to lose you, you know.'

    This time I hugged him.

     We parked near Central Park on Eighty-Fourth Street. We
found a place with enough space to throw and bat. I'd never
played baseball in my life other than holding bat and glove
in my hand on the street. I'd thrown balls but never a
baseball. It felt good in my hand. I threw hard as I could
way over his head and off to one side. He chased it,
laughing.

     'Slow down, partner. Easy at first.'

     It took a few more throws before I could get it into
his glove, less for me to catch. He showed me how to bat,
hitting a few my way. It took at least a dozen pitches
before I could do more than hit it straight up or into the
ground. After an hour, we were both exhausted but I had the
gist of throwing, catching and batting. We fell alongside
each other in the grass.

     'Next year, the Yankees,' predicted Bill.

     I leaned into him, very pleased with our father and son
play.

     We walked around the park lake then spent an hour on a
rented rowboat where we talked about why boats don't sink
and airplanes stay up in the air. Then he asked me, 'So what
do you want to be when you finish school?'

     Finishing school had never been in my plans. I had no
answer to his question.

     'I mean you could be a carpenter, a lawyer, a cook, an
artist, a photographer.'

     A photographer, like the guy who took the movies of
Georgie and me and the others. I looked at him trying to
guess what he thought I should say but happy that he had
mentioned photographer.

     'Maybe a photographer.'

     'Have you ever taken a picture?'

     Boy had I, I thought, but best not tell him about that.
'No.'

     'Would you like to? I've got some cameras.'

     'Sure. When?'

     'Well, tomorrow morning early. We can meet closer to
your apartment.'

     'Tenth Avenue and Forty-Ninth,' I interjected.

    'Make that Eleventh Avenue and Forty-Ninth Street, nine
o'clock sharp. But, right now, we need to get something to
eat. I've got some fixings back at the apartment.'

    It was nearing one and I was more than ready to eat. We
went back to his car and drove to an East Side apartment
building with a doorman.

    The doorman smiled and opened the door. We took an
elevator to an upper floor. For some reason, I expected
there would be someone else living with Bill, a wife, a son
or daughter, another person who kept him company and made
him comfortable. He didn't seem a live alone type like most
of the johns I had met. I suppose it was that well kept look
about him.

    The living room was larger than my family's entire
apartment. It had two large plate glass windows that looked
out over the Eastside Highway to the East River and Brooklyn
or Queens, I didn't know which. A dining area with a large
shiny wood table and eight chairs was off to the left.
Behind it could be seen a huge kitchen with stainless steel
furnishings. Hallways went left and right from the living
room.

    There were plates and settings for two at the dining
room table.

    The place smelled great. Bill explained why.

     'I fixed some of my very special chocolate chip cookies
before leaving to pick you up. But, my young friend, they
are for after lunch. First, I've prepared a fantastic sauce
for the best spaghetti you have ever eaten. That was easy.
The best spaghetti I'd ever eaten was from uneaten customer
meals at the diner where my grandmother worked. The stuff my
mother and Brenda made at our apartment was terrible. I
never ate more than a few forks full.

     In the kitchen, which had better looking equipment than
grandmother's diner and was a hell of a lot cleaner, Bill
went about boiling the pasta and warming up the sauce and
some bread shaped like a huge flat dick. The meal was really
good. He let me drink a glass of wine with it.

     While eating his delicious chocolate chip cookies, we
talked about photography and looked at pictures Bill had
taken and put on the many walls of the apartment. They were
an incredible mix of people from all over the world, plants
and trees, some buildings and boys, lots of boys. One
appeared at least a dozen times as he grew from perhaps
eight or nine to a young man.

     'Who's he?' I asked.

     'That's Michael, you know him.'

     It was the man from the YMCA pool. 'Wow, you've known
him for a long time.'

     I immediately wondered if he had sex with him back when
he was small but didn't feel comfortable asking.

     Bill changed the subject by getting out the cameras we
would use the next morning and showing how they worked. He
explained aperture, film speed and other characteristics of
camera and film none of which made any sense to me. What was
more interesting were the photos in some of the books he
had. Naked Amazonian and African boys caught my attention
though I tried not to show too much interest. One Amazonian
boy, with what looked like a toothpick stuck through his
lower lip, seemed to have a partial hardon. He was walking
with a man in the jungle. It must have been afternoon
because the sun lit him from the front, making his skin glow
like polished brass.

     Then, it was into the shower. Time for sex I supposed.
Bill washed me thoroughly, cleaning every crevice of my body
then announced that we had to hurry because the stores were
closing. Well, I thought, so much for a protein shake, as a
New Jersey john liked to call sperm. And I was horny from
looking at the Amazonian boy.

     Bill took me to a department store where he bought me a
whole set of nice clothes with a dress shirt and jacket,
slacks, sweater, winter jacket and leather shoes. I tried to
see what it cost but only caught glimpses of the price tag
on the jacket, forty-nine dollars, and the shoes, thirty-six
dollars. I wasn't going to be able to ask for any money for
a month.

    The clothes were to be used to go to nice restaurants,
like where we later ate dinner, and to be left at Bill's
apartment to avoid any questions at home. Dressed and hair
brushed, I admired the new boy in the tall mirror of the
store dressing room. I looked better than the whole
Ostrowski family put together. Man, I thought, the kids at
school would never recognize me.

    Back at the apartment, I went for the book with the
Amazonian boy. Bill pulled me onto his lap. 'Wanna play
mommy and daddy?'

    'Huh?' I was slow on the draw but the finger in his
mouth clued me in.

    I admired myself once more in his bedroom mirror before
stripping down to bare flesh, which didn't look bad either.
Bill was very affectionate, just holding and caressing until
I switched around for a slow, easy sixty-nine.

    Expended and feeling lazy, we lay in each other's arms
afterward. I had a question that had been in my head for
some time. I sat on his belly and played with his chest
hairs.

    'You take Georgie Shannon places too?'

    Bill grinned at me. 'Do I detect a note of jealousy?'

    That embarrassed me. 'Nah. But he give me that note
last week and, well.'

    'I've known Georgie for a couple of years now. We are
friends. I know a boy, a teenager, down on Forty Fourth
Street who knows Georgie. I know Georgie goes to your
school. The teenager took the note to Georgie who gave it to
you.

    'I know Georgie from taking him out a number of times
just like other boys on the Square. And, a couple of months
ago, Georgie told me about you. And now, you, Ray Molina,
are the only one I am interested in.'

    He took my hands and looked me square in the eye. 'The
only one.'

    I stared back, looking for any wavering. Did he mean
that? And, if he did, what did it mean. `And Roy and Adrian?
You was friends with them for two years, more.'

    `That's right, friends. Just like Georgie.'

    'So how come only me?'

    'It's just the way I am. Most men like me prefer to
have different boys at the same time, some, lots. I watch
for a special boy, like you, and that's it for me. You saw
the pictures of Michael all over. Well, I met him when he
was still eight years old. Now, he's in his last year of
college. He's not a boy any more and doesn't need me as
much. So, I've had my eyes open for a new boy. If you like,
you can be him. Whatta you think?'

    I didn't have to think. I fell forward on his chest and
hugged with all my might.

    We had dinner in a fancy restaurant with white jacketed
waiters and carpets. It was some kind of chicken and rice
with veggies and bread, okay, but I'd have been just as
happy with a juicy cheeseburger. I drank milk which I didn't
like a whole lot not being used to it.

    It was dark, so we rushed back to the apartment where I
changed my clothes. Bill dropped me where I was supposed to
meet him in the morning.

    I had to fight the desire to tell Cholito about my day
in the park. Lying in bed that night, I considered my life
to be about as good as it could get. I had a best friend who
had great sex with me. The sex with Bill was enjoyable too.
I didn't normally like all that body hair and such a fat
penis, much less the cum I swallowed. But it wasn't just the
sex with Bill. I felt so good, so comfortable, so secure
being with him. I no longer thought of him as a john. He was
about as close to a father as I ever expected to have.

    Even school was going great thanks to my wonderful
teacher, Mr. Martinson.

    There couldn't be any more fights, no matter what.

    Early Sunday, I went to Cholito's where I lied that my
grandmother was taking us to my aunt's house in Queens and
that I couldn't get out of it. The look on his face filled
me with guilt and regret at not telling Bill about him. It
would have to be done.

    Bill brought along two cameras and a bunch of lenses in
two bags. We went back to the park. I tried to focus on
people, cars and buildings as we drove but wasn't nearly
quick enough. In the park, with 50mm lenses on each camera,
we took pictures of trees, flowers, people passing by
including a young couple that stopped and posed for us. All
the while, Bill explained about focusing, the effect of
different lens apertures and shutter speeds and how and when
to use them. It started making sense to me. Then he switched
to a moderate telephoto and I went a little crazy.
Everything looked not just closer but somehow better,
especially people. I took six shots in a row of a little kid
about three playing with his dog. After two hours of picture
taking, we were at the lake. I had really enjoyed that quiet
time we had had the day before out in the boat and begged to
go again. We took some more pictures but I wanted to hear
him tell me about things like boats and airplanes. I
inquired about clouds. He gave me a lecture on how they
formed and why it rained. I asked about the sun and how
something so far away could keep us warm. He surprised me
with news that the sun was all gases with those on the
surface burning hotter than anything a human could imagine.
When I asked about how cameras were able to take pictures,
he said to wait, that he'd explain it back at the apartment.
`So,' I said, 'let's go.'

    In his apartment, he had a photographic darkroom. It
was really a bathroom, one of three. With the door closed
and the light off, you couldn't see a thing, not even after
your eyes got used to the dark. I made sure I knew where he
was when the light was out.

    He explained, with the light on, how to take the film
out of its container, put it on the metal reel then put the
reels in a stainless steel can that, when closed, was
completely dark inside. We'd shot seven rolls of film, one
more than his largest can would hold. I'd shot six. We did
mine first. With all six rolls on reels in the can, Bill
turned the light back on and explained the three different
chemicals we'd use to develop, stop the development and then
fix the images on the film. He explained the importance of
the amount of time each chemical was in the can ant set a
large timer with long clock hands at six minutes, the time
for the development step. The chemical was in a heavy
plastic gallon jug. I spilled some before I even got it over
the can. He laughed and helped me. He was like Mr. Martinson
that way, never getting mad with me. We did all three steps
and hung the film up to dry.

    'Drying takes about an hour. What would you like to
do?'

    I thought I knew what he really wanted so grabbed my
crotch and pulled on it. 'Wanna do this?'

    'If that's what you'd like.'

    His smile removed any doubt in my mind what he wanted
to do. And I owed him one of my best blow jobs.

    He suggested we shower first. I was still clean from
the thorough scrubbing he'd given me the afternoon before
but stripped down and hopped under the heavy flow of hot
water.

    'Want me to wash you this time?' I suggested.

    Silly question. I did him head to between his toes
making his peter hard on the way down. He was very thorough
cleaning out my asshole. I hoped that didn't mean he wanted
to fuck me. His dick was not huge but a lot fatter than that
of the teenager who screwed me in the movie.

    We dried and he carried me to his enormous bed. He laid
beside me and kissed me on the cheek. I returned the favor
and felt up his already hardening cock. He kissed me again,
closer to my mouth. I never liked kissing men. Boys were
okay because they didn't have whiskers and foul smelling
breath. I turned my head away and hugged him.

    "Let's sixty-nine,' I proposed pushing my crotch
against his stomach.

     I switched ends and sucked in the head of his cock. He
did the tongue thing all around my middle without touching
my stiff dick. Pulling me on top of him, he spread my legs
and licked up and down between them, nicking my ass hole
with each passage of his tongue. It felt great. I just
wished he'd spend a bit more time at my hole. Then he did.
After sliding his wet, hot tongue across it, Bill pushed the
tip inside. Involuntarily, I squeezed it closed but quickly
released the muscle and pulled my knees along side his ribs
to spread my cheeks. His tongue went in nearly as far as
Georgie's dick but didn't reach my special good feeling
spot. Still, it was great.

     I realized I had stopped sucking on Bill and got back
to work. He was too big for me to get it all the way in so I
did the top half, occasionally running my mouth and tongue
down to his pubic hairs, a concession to my affection for
Bill. I didn't do that with other men. His tongue slipped in
and out of my clean hole, penetrating a tad more with each
push. I wished Adrian had been there to fuck me and slide
against my special spot.

     Bill's cock began to grow. He released my legs and
pulled his mouth back to my roaring hard peter. His timing
was amazing. Moments later, we came almost simultaneously. I
took his cock well into the back of my mouth so I wouldn't
get so much of the taste of his cum. He made a momentary
effort to push me off but then let go, firing off gobs of
the hot stuff toward my belly, protein to build muscles I'd
been told. I swallowed hard several times concentrating on
the throbbing bliss of my own penis.

     Bill's cock still in my mouth, Cholito's words came to
me about only fags doing this. I had to know.

     Bill pulled me around to lie beside him, his arm under
my head holding me close.

     'Bill, what's a homosexual?'

     'You mean like me?'

     'No, anybody, any homosexual.'

     'Well, it's a person who prefers sex with others of his
own gender, men with men, women with women.'

     'And girls with girls and boys with boys?'

     `Not so much boys your age and younger. Lots of boys do
all kinds of sexual things with one another, with men, then
become adolescents and find girls.'

    `My friend Cholito's only ten an' he already likes
girls. He does sex with me because we're friends. But I
think I like it more than him.'

    `Everybody's different. Everybody's special. The most
important thing to remember is that sex is okay with anyone
we want as long as they want it too. Being gay or straight
has nothing to do with being good or bad. If I force a woman
to have sex with me, I'm doing something very bad. When you
and I have sex, we do it because we both want to, so it's
okay, it's good. Most people don't see it that way. They say
gays are evil, children shouldn't have sex until they get
older, sex before marriage is wrong. Some even say sex in
marriage for fun is wrong.

    `If you have sex of any kind, fucking, sucking,
whatever, with another boy and you both do it voluntarily,
want to do it, it is just as good and correct as sex between
a man and his wife to make a baby.' He kissed my head again.

    `I like Cholito and I don't look at girls, just boys. I
like Roy and Georgie, for sex, at least. I'm homosexual,
aren't I?'

    `Maybe, but maybe not. It's really too early to tell.
Just remember, your true friends won't care one way or the
other. I know I never would.'

    What he said had not really helped me, had not really
answered my question. I had hoped for something more
definitive. I didn't want to be a fag. But what if I was?
People did care if you were one. Where I lived, most
everybody hated fags, or, at least, made fun of them. Some
of the older teenagers and young men would take them into
basements for blowjobs or to fuck them. Maybe it was
different with rich people like Bill, but not in Hell's
Kitchen. Why did I love Cholito and not Mary Santos? That
was what I wanted to know.

    The hour to dry the negatives had passed ending my time
to ask questions. Worse, I wasn't sure he had any of the
answers I needed. And I wanted to discuss Cholito to see if
he could come with me some of the times I was with Bill, not
for the sex, just to do things like play baseball.

    In the darkroom, Bill set up three trays of chemicals
in the wide sink and cut the rolls of black and white
negatives into groups of six photos. He explained that these
chemicals were similar to the set for the film and had the
same uses. This time, we could work with a red light, which
allowed us to see but wouldn't damage the prints we were
about to make. He exposed a set in the enlarger across a
single piece of paper to check his guessed exposure
settings. The development process was magical to me. There
before my eyes appeared strip sections of pictures I had
shot earlier that day in the park. After running the test
print through the stop solution, he made notes and exposed
entire prints of six photos. Again, I was amazed watching
the pictures come to life. There was the kid and his dog
rolling in the grass. I was impatient to get the pictures
into daylight. We spent an hour and a half completing all
the usable shots on the six developed rolls. About a third
were blurred or improperly exposed but Bill said, 'Not bad
for a first time, not bad at all. And you have some nice
composition on many of these. You might be a natural
photographer.'

    I felt great even though I had no idea what composition
meant in a photographic context. Composition to me was a
written assignment I had to turn in at school.

    I wanted to take some of the pictures home but Bill
said, 'Let's find a way for me to meet your mother and then
you can take pictures home. Otherwise she might wonder
what's going on.'

    He gave me his phone number so I could call him
Thursday night at seven to set our weekend meeting.

    By the time I got home I had a story planned and
rehearsed. I told mother I met a man while playing with
friends in Central Park. He was taking pictures and let me
take some too, even taught me about how the camera worked.
He said he'd be in that area the following Saturday if I
wanted to see the pictures I'd taken.

    Mother thought I ought to take Brenda along but neither
my oldest sister nor I liked that idea.

    'Cholito'll be with me, and some other kids.'

    She said she'd see as though I ever sought her
permission to go anywhere on weekends.

    Cholito was excited Monday when I told that we would be
taking pictures in the park Saturday. I hoped Bill would be
as enthusiastic about me bringing my friend along.