Date: Sat, 10 Nov 2007 10:02:51 -0800 (PST)
From: Story Writer <feestyoreayes@yahoo.com>
Subject: Adam Dancer - Chapter Twelve

WARNING: This story is fiction and any names, elements or places in this
account are drawn totally from my own imagination. If you have a problem
with material like this, then please do not read it. Though the chapters
deal with homosexual exploration by young boys, I try to also get into
affection, conflict and difficulties for boys who a trying to discover who
they are and what their relationships are all about.

If you are too young to be reading these stories then please leave and
return when you are of age. Comments are welcomed. I can be reached at
feestyoreayes@yahoo.com. I want to thank all the people who have sent
emails to me.  I have enjoyed the comments and loved the suggestions.  I
sometimes have let character development dilute the sexual activity a bit,
so forgive me.


Chapter Twelve
Adam and Caleb and Fred


"One two three four five six seven eight; Now lift your chin.  No, no
Caleb, relax that neck."

The tall eleven year old boy glistened with sweat.  The moves they kept
repeating seemed ruined by all this repetition, but he understood that the
glory of beautiful dance required tireless discipline of this sort.  It
seemed to help the slim, dark-haired beauty to work hard and protest
internally with some robust unspoken insults.

"You fucking cow!"  Caleb thought, with a contrasting, choir boy
earnestness on his face, but did not say out loud.  "What bloody pasture
did you dance your fat ass out of?"

He smiled demurely to the dance mistress, convincing her that he held her
in high regard.  And he DID learn from her.  Her Russian in-your-face
approach created conflict and a paradox.  You fight to excel and not just
go through the motions.  In spite of all the denials, Caleb was competing
with other members of each dance class.  And the schizophrenic combination
of admiration and intense hate that Madam Kovine inspired drove the boy to
flee incessantly from his frightening dependency on her by exceeding the
skill levels she expected.  He knew that the dancer he was going to be
would make her old triumphs seem mawkish.

Skinning off their dance togs, Caleb and the other male dancers were the
opposite of modest.  Years of sharing pathetically cramped and ugly
changing rooms, reserved for the few boys risking ridicule by taking up
ballet, made shyness an attribute of a five year old beginner.

Caleb Collingsworth shut the other boys out of his mind, hating the forced
intimacy and droning on about fright films, video games and sports.  Caleb
was doubly out of place there.  His disdain for pop culture was poorly
hidden and he was British.  He had few friends and English parents who
barely tolerated his indifference to the sports that amounted to an
obsession with them.

The strikingly attractive boy missed his grandma very much.  When Sidney
and Brenda Collingsworth went off to promote their football enterprises all
over the globe, little Caleb, from the age of four until last year, lived
with Brenda's Mum.

************************************************************************

Emily Vincent had been a stage and television actress, well renowned for
her comedic turns.  She shared two passions as a young woman; playing her
roles to the hilt and being a loving Mum for her only child, Brenda.

It was not easy for Brenda to adjust to the constant traveling, the haze of
hotel rooms and the string of nannies that took her from sound-stages when
she was weary and tried to entertain her when Emily was in Australia or
America.

Brenda's resentment about the chaotic days of her childhood and her disgust
about being a bastard without a dad forged a wall between her and her
well-meaning Mum.  It was not plain to the casual observer, for Emily never
stopped trying to reach her daughter, with attention, encouragement and
genuine affection.

Brenda, in turn, was clever and pragmatic.  She carefully projected an
image of a happy girl, knowing her Mum had the resources to get her to high
plateaus of academic accomplishment.  She applied herself in studies and
sports, risking, carefully, as a very concretely cunning opportunist. This
was in vivid contrast to the spontaneity of her Mum, who regularly flirted
with professional disaster to keep herself enthusiastic about her craft.

At age ten, Brenda easily convinced Emily that life would be simpler for
them both if Brenda was boarded at a school.  After visiting many
academies, Brenda and her best friend Cynthia successfully begged their
parents to enroll them in Kent College Preparatory School.

The two girls were like a mutual tutoring service, laboring together to
excel in class and guide one another socially.  They both were capable
athletes in Netball, gymnastics, swimming and cross country running.  It
was apparent that they would prosper in sports at the school and later at
the Senior School.  They sailed through GCSE's and A level challenges,
setting their sights on Trinity College, Cambridge.

Brenda confidently entered the study at Trinity to receive their assessment
of her admissions potential.

"Miss Vincent," the Don began, "Your record of accomplishments in academics
and athletics is very impressive.  I predict a very promising pathway in
university for you."

Brenda smiled gently and confidently as she listened for what she had been
striving since early in her tenure at the Kent school.

"You are the daughter of Emily Vincent, the entertainer, is that right?"

"Yes, Dr. Huggins." Brenda answered with a bit of worry that there may be
social class contamination burrowing under her master plans.

"You may do well to draw from your mother's influence, Miss Vincent,
because we find that your entire collection of admissions material is
almost uniformly bereft of imagination.  You will excel in another
programme, but our college is not for you."

Brenda was blind-sided by that frog-faced man's unkind rejection.
Everything was dropping into their admissions dust bin.  But her personal
discipline muted any salty retorts.

"Very well, thank you for considering me."  Brenda said, with all she could
muster to sound respectful.

Cynthia suffered the same fate at Trinity, but, being the more resilient of
the pair, dusted herself off and suggested a nice run into hills and
meadows with her reluctant friend Brenda.

Second best turned out to be a very gratifying adventure for the two of
them.  It was Edinburgh University where they had one of the finest sports
unions in all of the United Kingdom.  The two girls were dynamos in class
and on the sports fields.  They both enjoyed the emerging opportunity for
competing in football, winning many matches, with both of them fiercely
fighting off attacks, playing defense.

Brenda met a football entrepreneur at a match in Leeds.  Sidney
Collingsworth was there to appease an investor who had a hare-brained idea
of professional women's football in the UK.  Sidney, still in his thirties,
was drawn to the form of a very attractive girl with raven black hair and
alert blue eyes. She was graceful and relentless, yet displayed a sensible
understanding of the game.  She anticipated moves, suggesting that she was
born to play defense.

Soon after he introduced himself to Brenda, they each realized that this
was a match that had to be.  Their shared values and mutual interests made
them sometimes wonder, were it not for the eleven years age difference, if
they were separated fraternal twins.

They were also sexually compatible.  They made love with wild abandon,
forgetting one night to use contraception.  Apparently birth control pills
had their occasional flights from probability.  Brenda was devastated and
was almost certainly going to have an abortion.

Sydney wanted a son.  Emily wanted a grandson.  Brenda wanted Sydney to be
her husband.

When Caleb was born, Brenda refused to even hold him, handing him off to a
nanny.  Sydney was ecstatic with the perfectly formed boy baby and lavished
attention on him, dressing him in football jerseys and parading him in
front of famous athletes who predicted that Caleb was going to thrill and
break hearts at Wembley.

Emily knew that she had to be diplomatic with Brenda in order to have time
with her beautiful, alert and happy little grandson.  She refrained from
offering advice and bit her tongue when Sydney made rude comments to the
appealing and earnest boy.

Sydney despised the natural grace of the boy.  The lad was nimble,
well-coordinated, strong and enthusiastic in play, but he wanted to dance.
This incensed Sydney.

When Caleb was four years old, Emily took him for weekends. He adored going
to the cinema and theatre with his grandmum, amusing her by imitating
pirouettes and often falling and laughing.

One day, Emily purchased a full-sized Yamaha keyboard for Caleb to use at
her home in Kensington.  The tiny four years old boy brushed his long black
hair from his cherubic face and made a request.

"Play a song for me Nana." He said with his soft imploring voice.  He stood
in red shorts and a striped polo shirt.  As little boys are prone to do,
Caleb scuffed off his shoes without ever reaching or looking down.  His
eyes signaled for her to begin.

Emily did not expect Caleb to stand quietly and submissively as he listened
to her play.  It was an inspiration to select "You're Never Fully Dressed
Without a Smile".  She fought off tears of joy with what he did.

Caleb, remembering seeing Annie on stage with his Nana, launched into a
joyous, dancing rendition of the orphans; twirling and leaping and holding
his arms out to an imaginary audience.  His sense of cadence was
remarkable, but the sheer pleasure he skillfully exhibited proclaimed that
Caleb needed encouragement to study dance.

Sydney and Brenda had friends over for a lawn party in their home in
Chelsea.  Their hosted social occasions were carefully choreographed to
create an atmosphere where business was discussed and deals were made.
They had rehearsed Caleb over and over again to burst upon the lawn in his
footballer's togs and kick a ball authoritatively into a football goal.
The tiny lad of four performed perfectly in practice.

"Caleb, come to Dad!" Sydney shouted.  It was Caleb's cue to thunder
through a vanguard of wine drinking guests onto the lawn, dribble adeptly
to voices shouting their amazement and slam the ball precisely in the
center of the net to a roar of approval.

The band struck up, as a joke, an intentionally off-key, mocking version of
Liverpool's theme, "You'll Never Walk Alone".

Caleb, born to dance and never warned not to, shucked his cleats and
devised an impromptu solo ballet dance, complete with pirouettes,
attitudes, pleas and jetes of varying scale.  The Collingsworth elders
watched in stunned silence as women applauded and men laughed.

Caleb, that night, was farmed out to Emily because the boy was obviously a
fairy, suited to mince around with his show business grandmother.

Caleb prospered with Nana and threw himself happily into dance instruction.

When his Mum and Dad moved to San Francisco, they retrieved their eleven
year old boy, now beautiful, poised, ambitious and frightened of the overt
disapproval he endured with his dad.

*************************************************************************

Before he had left the stimulating city of San Francisco for the cow town
called Davis, Adam went to say goodbye to a little friend named Caleb.  He
hated leaving behind this lonely little fellow who had no real friends.  He
was suffering from profound grief.  It was as if his grandmother, who
shared a joyful seven years together with the talented, loving and
beautiful boy, had died.

Adam got through a lot of the barriers to knowing Caleb by being a loyal
friend who listened.  In the beginning, Adam was sexually attracted to the
younger, pre-pubescent boy dancer, but he felt a more asexual attraction
that allowed patience and an almost older-brother sense of caring and
protecting.

As Adam and Caleb were trying to say goodbye, Caleb began to let his
defenses slip and allowed himself to quietly weep, brushing away Adam's
hands offered for comfort.

"People I love leave me, Adam.  I have nobody and my Dad hates me."  Caleb
said.

Adam could not counter Caleb's remark about his father, because he knew
from his own experience with the Dad that there was indeed unwarranted
hatred.

Adam had a card printed with his email address, his home phone number, his
cell phone number and his various IM addresses.  He pressed the card into
the depressed boy's hand and felt relief when the card was carefully tucked
into Caleb's wallet.

They did not embrace.  They said few words.  Adam decided that this was the
end of their relationship.

*************************************************************************


Caleb had just tried to say goodbye to his only real friend, Adam.  He
thought about how hopeless it was to love someone and then, inevitably,
lose him or have him run off by his father, or as with Nana, exiled by his
mother.  Here in San Francisco the only thing they kept in his routine was
his ballet lessons.  They did this reluctantly after a psychiatrist friend
thought the dance was Caleb's only interest that pushed against depression.

Sydney mocked emotional weakness.  Depression was a tent that the weak hid
under so others had to make up for their lack of initiative.  The man
either disputed or ignored the flickers of health from his son.  No matter
the good grades, no matter his artistic brilliance, the man only saw a
flawed fairy of a son.  Now he was going to have a confrontation with
Caleb.

Caleb had a tiny dance area in the basement of their suburban home.  It was
fitted with a large mirror and a long barre, as if there would be more than
one boy working there.  He was playing a piece by Chopin, gently stretching
to the music when the door burst open.

"I see you got an email letter from that American fairy friend."  Sidney
declared loudly as he turned off the CD player.

"All Adam wanted to do was say hi and tell me about his new town."  Caleb
solemnly explained.

"He is a homo!  Were you sucking his dick before he left?"

"He is a friend.  I haven't fooled around with anyone and he would never do
that."  Caleb insisted.

"Caleb, I am not pleased about how you defy me and show no interest in
anything but dancing.  If you do not get some straight friends and get rid
of the queer ones, the ballet lessons end!"

"Okay, father, I will do that."  Caleb said, having no idea what the hell
he was going to do to keep the classes that were almost all he cared about.

"Good!  I expect you to introduce me to a heterosexual boy within a week.
Is that clear?"

Caleb nodded, just to get the verbal abuse to stop.  The boy wondered how
on earth he was going to produce a friend who would satisfy his father.
This was too much for the young boy who only knew about homosexuality from
books and magazines.  Caleb wondered if, indeed he was a homosexual.  He
hadn't even started wanking, much less fantasizing about either boys or
girls.

************************************************************************


Adam Gardens had just listened to half an hour of breathless babblings from
his friend Kevin about how much he loved Liam Coe.

"So old man Coe didn't ask you about PE?"  Adam interrupted.

"No, Adam, he is a cool guy."  Kevin offered, refraining from violating
confidentiality about Dr. Coe's special lusts.

Hey, Kev, my cell phone is showing a San Fran number, so can I get back to
you?"

"Okay, Babe," Kevin replied.  "See you later."

"It's Caleb," a soft voice answered.  "I am desperate."

"How can I help you, Caleb?"  Adam said with a calm voice.

Caleb carefully summarized the demands of his dad, avoiding any semblance
of analysis, but holding to just what was said.

"Okay, first the easy stuff.  Stop using that email address attached to
your ISP.  Get a browser email address and check emails at the library."

"Oh, of course," Caleb responded.  "We use Vonage, so I can go on line and
delete listings of phone calls to and from you."

"Excellent, Caleb," Adam reassured.  "I know a boy at your school who is
twelve.  He is very masculine and straight, but he and I became close
friends when his sister got sick and needed chemotherapy.  He is tall and
ultra cute from my homo vantage point.  I helped get all the kids in our
class to shave our heads so she wouldn't be the only baldy there."

"I remember that, Adam!  When you showed up bald for dance classes, I
thought you did it for a part in a show or movie."

"Sit tight, Caleb.  I am going to call Fred Basehart on my land phone,
right now."

Adam was able to get Fred's help without a glimmer of reluctance. Fred
agreed to communicate by email to the address that Adam had just set up for
Caleb.  All Caleb had to do was log in and change his password.


Hi Caleb,

I see that your lunch period is the same as mine.  Please meet me at 12:30
just by the salad bar.  I remember what you look like and if you forgot me,
look for a Golden State basketball t-shirt.  Adam is a close friend who I
totally like.  I can tell you that your Dad is going to find me a total
jock and hetero dude.  Relax, man, I don't give a shit about your
orientation and who the hell expects an 11 yr old to even know much about
his hormoans!

Ready Freddie

Hi Fred,

You are very cool.  See you at the salad bar!

Crazy Caleb

*************************************************************************

Fred Basehart realized that Adam's unsolicited kindness towards his sister
Kate had been an act that altered forever Fred's attitudes towards boys who
were less aggressive, more casual about sports and more introspective.  Not
long ago, to Fred, you were a stud or you were a cocksucker.  Fred's
intolerance for people who were different did not spring from him like an
immaculate misconception.  He was well taught by his father and a series of
self-hating sports coaches.  He remembered once seeing Kate talking to
"that little dancing cocksucker" in the hallway.  He was livid about it and
confronted Kate, who said:

"If you harm one fair hair on Adam's head, this pointy little shoe is going
to help you learn to hit a high C with ease."  Kate threatened.

During the terrible days when Kate's survival was in question, kids shunned
the Baseharts, as if the leukemia cancer was contagious; except for one
boy, "that little dancing cocksucker".

Adam's presence in the hospital was so ubiquitous that the nurses thought
he was part of the family.  He entertained Kate when she needed a pleasant
distraction.  His parents, with Adam's urging became supporting friends to
the Basehart family.  It was when Adam marched his entire class to a hair
salon, hand in hand with a new jock friend, that a friendship was cemented.

This is going to be weird, hanging out with an eleven year old boy who
probably recites Shakespeare at the dinner table, Fred thought.  I wonder
what we can do to pass the time until his dad doesn't need proof that Caleb
no longer spends the day on his knees sucking off boys.  Well, if worst
comes to worse, Kate can pinch-hit.  Now that is a plan to inoculate little
Caleb from suspicion!

************************************************************************

"Hi, Caleb," Fred said.

"Hi, Fred," Caleb responded, feeling as if he was in the lion's cage
without a whip and chair.

Fred gently guided Caleb to the serving line, nodding his head to friends
with an unspoken warning not to say, or do anything crude.  The dancer and
the basketball player set their trays down at a table that miraculously
stayed free of any additional company.

"Caleb, I love Adam like a brother.  My formerly homophobic dad adores the
kid.  I want to actually be a friend, not a pretend friend, so don't
worry." Fred fixed his eyes on Caleb's until the little boy managed the
first smile in a week.

"I am so afraid about losing the dance lessons, Fred." Caleb said, getting
right down to the main thing on his mind. "I almost forgot how to make
friends, so please be patient with me."

"Caleb, Adam told me about you and your granny.  Shit, if I lived with such
a cool lady most of my life, and then got ripped away from her, I know I
would be fucked up about people."

Caleb looked with a new sense of hopefulness after that crude but
brilliantly accurate summary by Fred.  He understood!

"We can really make friends, right?" Caleb ventured, blushing down into his
shirt.

"Like I said when you were flicking your fork at the pineapple cubes, I
want to be a real friend, not a pretend friend.  So let's have you invite
yourself to go to a Warriors game with me Friday night."

"Is that a video war game?" Caleb ventured.

"Are you fucking shitting me, Caleb?" Fred said with a whooping laugh.  The
blank stare told him no.  "Wait, relax, man, I didn't mean to make fun of
you.  The Warriors are a professional basketball team that plays in Oracle
Arena in Oakland.

"Hey isn't that where Billy Joel is giving a concert?" Caleb asked?

"Wanna see that too?  If we go, we will have to drag Kate along.

"That would be too expensive."

"We already have season tickets in section 5, but the Billy Joel concert
tickets belong to Mom and Dad and two of their friends."

"Um, let's stick to the Warriors, then." Caleb decided.

"Caleb, what's your locker combination."

"Oh it's three seven four." Caleb revealed.

"I am going to put a Warriors sweatshirt in your locker.  Have it on when
you explain about the game to your dad."

The shirt was incredibly valuable in Caleb's discussion with his father.
He didn't even have to explain about who Fred was.

"That's the point guard that the high school is all excited about, Caleb!
How did you get to know him?"

"I saved his life in math, Dad.  He is actually pretty smart but needed
some help with quadratic equations."

"Where are the seats, Caleb?"

"They are in Section 5, really close seats in the corner."

"Those are excellent seats," Sydney enthused.  Listen to him, because he
really knows the game."

As planned, Fred called that night and Sydney asked to talk to him.  Caleb
grinned as Fred talked soccer for almost half an hour, acting ever so
impressed by how Caleb's dad was involved in the professional soccer scene.
After two Warrior games and attending all of Fred's games, Caleb began to
enjoy basketball.  It was a shared thing which gave them pleasure.  It was
no longer a scheme to fool dad.

During Christmas break, Sydney announced that he was renting a beautiful
lodge up in Aspen.  He called Fred's parents to ask if it was okay for Fred
to join them for some skiing the day after Christmas until New Year's Day.
Caleb had given Fred a head's up so agreement was swift.

Fred and Caleb were sent ahead on a chartered jet, pure luxury, with no
other passengers.  A limo met the boys at the airport and rushed them to a
lodge near Aspen Highlands ski resort. Neither of them had skied, but Fred
was sure that a fit dancer like Caleb would probably learn pretty quickly.
A servant greeted the boys and gave them a tour of the huge lodge, which
tried to look rustic, but could not conceal opulence.

The boys shared a large bedroom with two king sized beds a private bathroom
and a large balcony sporting a hot tub.  While they relaxed and heard the
tinkle of someone preparing dinner, they looked out and saw the sky
darkening.  They clicked on the bedroom plasma television for the news.  It
was apparent that a huge snowstorm was building up, closing down the
airport.

Caleb called his father's cell phone and got no answer.  He then tried the
home phone and heard the recorded message.  Fred got his dad on the phone.

"I know they left San Francisco minutes ago, son," Fred's dad explained.
"I expect that they were probably diverted to another airport," he
reassured.

Persistence by Carl Basehart rewarded him with a grim reality.  The
Collingsworth flight was missing.

Fred sat down with Caleb on the bedroom sofa.  "Dad said the flight is
missing, Caleb."

Caleb grabbed Fred's wrists and began to scream.  His eyes fluttered and
his slim legs kicked over and over against the leather base of the sofa.
Fred said nothing, as he seized Caleb and rocked him in his lap.  Caleb's
voice went hoarse, and his sounds were raspy and futile.  He stopped
rocking now.  He stopped flailing his colt-like legs and he shut his eyes
as if he had fallen asleep.  But Fred felt the rigidity of the boy's
muscles and felt troubling warmth as Caleb wet his pants.

He lifted the feather-light child to the bathroom.  Caleb did not respond
to words that rushed to comfort.  Fred stood Caleb up, but the legs quaked
and buckled, requiring Fred to lay the stricken boy on the plush bathroom
rug.  He slipped off Caleb's sweater and shirt and was relieved that his
pulse seemed normal.  While lowering Caleb's trousers and underpants, the
childish penis and slender thighs were streaked with urine.  Fred somehow
found that he was not disgusted but entirely focused on meeting Caleb's
immediate needs.  He filled the tub with warm water and, after looking to
see if Caleb had defecated and finding no mess, gently lowered the little
boy into the tub.  It was a form of sanity to softly bathe his new friend.
He kissed the little boy on his brow and shared a calm that eased the
rigidity in the arms, and legs and tummy.

The sensitive servant, named Lawrence, alerted by Caleb's screams watched
the calm touches of the older boy.  He knew that Caleb was conscious and
not in danger.  He agreed to rule out further traumatizing the child by
having a bunch of EMT's probe, question and haul him away.

The room was peaceful and quiet.  A large bath towel, warmed by a heated,
arching tube, was placed on a bed.  Fred lifted Caleb in his arms, ignoring
the wetness, and eased his slender, nude body on the towel.  Another towel
warmed and dried the boy off, inspiring an encouraging return of color.

Fred stood over the long-legged boy and realized that, in the height of
this terrible tragedy, he was in love with Caleb.  He did not experience an
erection, nor desire to do anything more than care for him.  He had an
overwhelming need to have a pure intimacy demanded by the innocent little
boy he now held in his arms.  So Fred closed the bedroom door, turned off
the lights and crawled, naked, under the covers.  He held the boy close
against his muscular body and heard Caleb expel a sigh.  Caleb whispered:

"I love you."

Now I know, Fred thought, that if this beautiful boy asked me, I would not
even pause before sucking his beautiful little penis.


The next chapter gets more intimate.  Comments sent to
feestyoreayes@yahoo.com are welcome. Cruel ones will be discarded.