Date: Mon, 28 Feb 2000 16:34:53 EST
From: William Watts <bwstories44@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Castaway Hotel  Chapter 1

Legal Notice:
The following story contains descriptions of graphic sexual acts.
The story is a work of fiction and has no basis in reality.

Don't read this story if:
     *You're not 18 of over,     *If it is illegal to read this type of
material where you live,
     *Or if you don't want to read about gay/bi people in love or having
sex.

The author retains copyright to this story.  Placing this story on a
website or reproducing this story for distribution without the author's
permission is a violation of that copyright.  Legal action will be taken
against violators.

E-mail responses to this or any other of my stories, story suggestions or
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bwstories44@hotmail.com

			      * * * * * * * *

The Castaway Hotel - by BW  (Young-Friends).                Copyright 2000
by bwstories44
Chapter 1- My first guest.
     February 2000

I guess that I should begin by telling you how I came to run 'The Castaway
Hotel'.  I had a fairly rough adolescence.  I'd grown up confused, first
trying to deny my sexual identity and then trying to hide it.  I was pretty
good at it too.  I ended up getting married, having children (actually my
wife had them), and living a, so-called, normal life.  My children were all
grown, by now, and, unfortunately, my wife had passed away.  I was rattling
around in the big, old farmhouse in which we had raised our children.  I
hated to sell it because I always loved that place and it held so many
memories.  No matter where I looked, it would remind me of some cherished
event from my past.  The living room had been the center for all those
slumber parties the children had with their friends.  The family room
brought back memories of hours of playing ping-pong, board games or, later,
on the computer with my children.  Looking out at the yard, I was flooded
with visions of the children playing with our collection of pets, the boys
riding their dirt bikes, the girls on their bicycles, the games of tag and
hide-and-go-seek, the countless number of children that played there with
mine and the extended family cookouts we were so fond of holding.
  Then there were the woods, where I took the boys hunting, where we all
went hiking, where I would camp-out with the kids and where I walked for
solitude.  No, I couldn't seem to give this place up.

At 47, I had lived totally alone for several months and I was now beginning
to wallow in the pangs of loneliness that such a large place seemed to
magnify.  The house had a total of 13 rooms, which included six/seven
bedrooms (I am currently using the old master bedroom on the first floor as
an office) and three full baths, and they longed for the laughter and life
that only a family could bring to it.  One of my friends suggested that I
rent out rooms or open a 'Bed and Breakfast' to cure this solitude and make
a few bucks on the side.  I had been considering his suggestion when
another friend gave me an alternative plan.  She worked for the Department
of Social Services and informed me that there was a tremendous shortage of
good foster homes.  Even though I was a widower and lived alone, she
suggested that I could put some of those empty bedrooms to use by taking in
a child or children who desperately needed a home.  She thought that, after
raising four of my own children and being the principal of the middle
school, I had the experience to handle the challenge.  I thanked her for
her idea and told her that I would consider it.

I kicked all of these suggestions around for several weeks before I made my
decision.  I would take in foster children.  I apprised my friend of my
choice and told her that I would accept any child who needed help but I
would prefer boys, especially gay or bi boys.  I told her that I had
witnessed, through my job, how tough life can be for that group and that I
felt that I could make the greatest impact with these children.  What I
didn't tell her was my dark secret that I actually fit into one of those
groups and I had suppressed my feelings and urges all of my life.  I didn't
want another young male to suffer as I had by denying his true self.  Sure,
I had a good life, a wonderful wife, terrific children and a fulfilling
career but no matter how good it seemed there was always a stinging
emptiness deep inside of me.  For years, I harbored a void within the far
recesses of my soul that I knew would only be filled by man-to-man love.  I
longed to act on this need but I never did because of what it might do to
my family and the fear of losing my job.

Now, I know what some of you are thinking and you're wrong.  I didn't want
those boys there to gratify my own sexual needs.  I wanted them there so I
could help them understand their feelings and learn how to cope with their
life in a world that vilified and derided those lifestyles.  I wanted to
help them understand that they didn't have to hide or suppress these
feelings but, with some discretion, they could enjoy a loving relationship
with another male, one that I have always longed for.  By doing this I
hoped to, not only, help them but, also, let it serve as a catharsis for my
life.  It may be my only chance to purge the regret that I've felt by never
becoming the person that I really was inside.

It took a number of weeks to get certified by the state but I, finally,
received a call at work from my friend, Sally, telling me that she had a
young boy she would like for me to consider taking in.  He was twelve years
old, hyperactive and all alone.  His mother was a drug addict, who had died
from an overdose, and she had no family that was interested in taking the
boy in.  His father had never been identified but it was strongly suggested
that he was either a pusher or another user who had swapped drugs for a
sexual favor.  In the long run, she ended up with more than just drugs out
of that deal.  Sally also informed me that she didn't know if he were gay
or bi, as he was so young, but he had enough going against him already.  He
had been an average student in elementary school, although a behavioral
problem, and he was currently in the 7th grade.  She said that I probably
knew this young gentleman already, as he attended my school, but she
strongly hoped that I would accept him into my home.

She was correct in her assumption.  From her description of his background
information, this led me to deduce that this boy was none other than Ricky
Glover.  He wasn't a bad kid but he spent a lot of time in my office.  He
was just so full of energy and mischievousness that the teaching staff
could not handle him within the group of thirty or so students that they
dealt with in a class.  He wasn't a mean or vicious young man just a
whirling dervish who could only be subdued by a tranquilizer dart filled
with a large enough dosage to calm a raging elephant.  I actually had a
soft spot in my heart for this kid, as he was quite humorous at times, but
I was not sure if he was the right individual to start this experiment
with.  I told her I would give this some thought and I would get back to
her within 24 hours.  I worked in my office for a while longer and then
went to tour the halls.  As I entered the waiting area of my office
complex, where my secretary works, guess who was there?

"Ricky, into my office, now."

He rose, with a smile on his face, and strolled into my office like he
owned the place.  "Hi, Mr. Currie."

Ricky was about 5'2", shoulder length blond hair, smoky gray eyes and a
nearly constant smile.  I always wondered how this little guy could always
look so happy when he had suffered through so much.  He was on the slender
side, without being skinny and he looked like he had a fairly decent build.
If he got into a fight with someone who was nearly his own size, I would
always pick Ricky to win.  He was a street-wise, scrappy kid who had just
about raised himself.  "What are you here for this time, Ricky?"

  He looked down at the floor.  "Mrs. Snyder sent me down because I
couldn't stop laughing in class."

"And what was so funny?"

He flashed a wide grin at me before he answered.  "Seth Horvath cut a big
fart in class and it really stunk.  That made me laugh a little but it was
even funnier watching the other kids trying not to breathe. I just couldn't
stop myself when they started gagging when they couldn't hold their breath
any longer.  I tried not to laugh out loud but I just couldn't help
myself."

"I guess I can see the humor in that situation, Ricky, but you've got to
practice some self control.  I'm sure there were others in the class that
thought it was funny but they were able to contain themselves.  You've got
to try a little harder."

"I know, sir.  I'm really sorry and I'll tell Mrs. Snyder that, too.  I'll
try harder next time, sir.  I promise I will."

"I know you will, Ricky, and that would be greatly appreciated.  Please go
back out and sit in the other room until the bell sounds for your next
class."

"Yes, sir.  Thank you, sir.  I'm sorry, sir."

Maybe you are getting the picture that I was trying to draw of my young
friend.  He's not the devil that some of the teachers wanted to portray him
as and he is not hopelessly incorrigible but he can be a disruptive force
in the classroom.  He'd did make me chuckle, though, picturing what the
scene must have looked like through his eyes.  I went back into my office
and called Sally.

"Hello, Sally Swarthout's office."

"Sally, this is Josh Currie.  I'll take him."

That evening I went home and readied a room for my new foster son.  The
room was pretty much in order but the furniture needed some dusting and I
ran the vacuum over the carpet.  I also made the bed and fluffed the
pillows.  Everything was in order and I headed back downstairs.  It was
then that I heard the doorbell ring.  I opened the door and there stood
Sally, Ricky and two suitcases.

"Hi, Mr. Currie.  Are you going to be my new dad?"  He looked directly into
my eyes like he thought he could absorb the answer from there.

"Yes, I guess you might say that.  Come in and I'll show you around."  I
greeted them both and I started to show my guests around the first floor.

"You live in this big house?"  Ricky asked, his big eyes bulging from their
sockets.  "Doesn't anyone else live here with you?"

"Yes, now you do.  My children are all grown and on their own.  My wife
died last year.  Since that time I have been alone in this big house.
That's why you're here, to bring some life back into this place.  Come on,
I'll show you to your room."

Ricky gave me an enormous grin and they followed me up the staircase to the
second floor.  I took them down the hall to a small bedroom, right across
from the master bedroom.  "I thought that you would like this particular
bedroom.  It used to belong to my oldest son."

Ricky went in and looked around.  The bottom half of the wall was covered
with a dark wood paneling and the upper portion was covered in a wallpaper
pattern, which showed young boys playing various sports.  There was an
ample closet in the corner, a window on the far end (with a built in desk
under it) and there was a blue carpet on the floor.  There was a single
bed, a nightstand and a chest of drawers (all in a light oak) to furnish
it.

"This is real nice.  You mean I get to stay in here?"

"Yes, you do and my room is just across the hall, in case you need
anything."  I let him look into the master bedroom.  "You passed the main
bathroom to get here, it's just next door.  We'll put your toothbrush in
the holder on the sink and everything else you'll need is already in
there."

"Thanks, Mr. Currie.  I like it here already."  He came over and wrapped
his arms around my waist.  It looked like it wouldn't take very much to
make him happy.

"Well, it doesn't look like you gentlemen need me here so I'll be heading
home.  Ricky, I'll see you in a few days to see how you're doing."  We
walked Sally down to the door to bid her farewell.

"Thanks, Josh," Sally began.  "I think this is going to work splendidly."

"I hope so, Sally.  Good night."

"'Night, Mrs. Swartout," Ricky added peering out from under my arm that was
holding the door open.

She waved, got in her car and drove away.

"So, are you hungry Ricky?"

"Yes, sir.  I am.

"Well, what would you like to eat?"

"How about a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup.  Do you got that
stuff?"

"It's 'Do you have that stuff?' and yes, I do."  He smiled at my correction
of his question and I set about fixing his meal.  I had eaten earlier.

After Ricky had finished his meal, I showed him how to rinse off his dishes
and put them into the dishwasher.  He thanked me for the food, followed me
into the television room and sat on the sofa beside me.  "Ricky, do you
have any school work that you need to finish?"

"No, sir.  I did it while I was waiting for Mrs. Swartout to bring me
here."

"Very good.  Would you like to watch some television?"

"Yes, sir.  That would be nice."

"Here, you can use the remote to find something that you like.  Then I'll
make sure I approved of it."

He took the remote from me and started to flip through the channels.  After
a brief search, he found one of those sitcoms geared toward teen-agers.  I
judged it to be suitable for his viewing and I began to read the evening
paper.  It was sometime later when Ricky interrupted my reading.

"Mr. Currie?"

"Yes, Ricky."

"What am I suppose to call you now?"

"Well," I began thinking about it, "what would you like to call me."

"Can I call you dad?"  He had this questioning look on his face, not sure
if he should have made that suggestion.

"If that's what you wish to call me, then you may but only when we are not
at school.  At school you will still refer to me as Mr. Currie.  I even
made my own children do that."

"Yes, sir...I mean.yes, dad."  He had a huge grin on his face as he said
that.

When I finished reading the paper, I watched a little TV with Ricky.
Before I knew it, he had scooted over beside me and was snuggling up
against my body.  I placed my arm over his shoulder and he acknowledged it
by resting his head on my chest.  The next thing I knew he was sound asleep
in that position.  I carried him upstairs, removed all of his clothing,
with the exception of his underwear, and placed him under the covers of his
new bed.  I kissed him on the forehead, turned off the lights and went back
downstairs.

I finished up a few things in my office, checked my e-mail for messages and
then cleaned up a small mess of paperwork.  When I had completed my work, I
went to my room, prepared myself for the evening and went to sleep.  About
two o'clock in the morning, I felt movement on my bed and became aware of
Ricky's presence.

"Dad, can I sleep in here with you for the rest of the night?"

"That would be fine as long as you don't make this a habit."

"No, sir, I won't.  I just woke up to go to the toilet and I can't get back
to sleep in my new room.  It's a little scary."

"Yes, I suppose the first night in a new place can be a little scary.  Hop
under the covers and settle down."

"Thank you, dad," he said, giving me a kiss on the cheek.  I think this
little rascal has already wormed his way into my heart.

We slept, side by side, through the night and, in the morning, I had Ricky
shower and get dressed before he came down for breakfast.  I pointed out to
him where everything was kept and advised him that he could use whatever he
needed.  Since I had my own bathroom, off of the master bedroom, this
bathroom would only be for his personal use, at least until we got another
boarder.  He finished his morning ritual and came down to the table.  He
devoured all of the food that I set before him.  If I didn't know better,
I'd have thought it had been a while since his last meal.  While he ate, I
tried to address some issues that might need our attention.

"Ricky, now that your living with me, there might be some comments made to
you about this situation.  Some of the children might think that you are
getting preferential treatment because you are now my son.  Do you
understand what I'm saying?"

"I think so, dad, but I'm not sure."

"What I'm trying to say is that the other students may think that I am
favoring you because you are living with me."

"That's what I thought you meant."

"You'll have to help me so the others won't think that.  I need you to be
on your best behavior when you're at school.  That means not getting sent
to my office so often, keeping up with your class work and trying to
cooperate with your teachers better.  Do you think you can do that?"

"I'll try, dad, but I may forget sometimes."

"I'll understand an occasional slip-up but I do need it to be less frequent
than it's been in the past.

He hung his head slightly.  "I don't mean to be bad and get into trouble,
it's just sometimes I can't help myself.  I'll try, dad, I really will.
Just don't get mad at me if I goof up once in a while."

"As long as I can tell that you're trying to do better, we won't have any
problems."

"Thanks, dad.  I love you."

Whoa.  Where did that come from?  He's been here less than a day and he
tells me he loves me.  I'm sort of choked up but I know I have to respond
so he doesn't withdraw from me or misinterpret my inaction.  "I love you,
too, Ricky.  Now, go and round up your things so we can head in to school."

The little imp walked over to me, threw his arms around my neck and gave me
a kiss on the cheek.  Yeah, I guess I'm just a soft touch.  I think that I
really do love him.

			      * * * * * * * *

If you've enjoyed reading this story, you will find other stories by me at
http://www.teenboyauthors.org/thewolf/, in the 'Other Stories' section.
E-mails may be sent to: bwstories44@hotmail.com.