Date: Sun, 6 Apr 2003 18:54:36 EDT
From: Bwstories8@aol.com
Subject: The Castaway Hotel-book 6, chapter 12

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 or 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.

I wish to extend my thank you to Ed for his editorial assistance with this
chapter, and to Art for proofreading it for me.

E-mail responses to the stories, story suggestions, or other 'constructive'
comments or advice may be sent to: bwstories8@aol.com.

               *    *     *     *     *     *     *     *

Although the boys in these stories have unprotected sex, I strongly urge
all of you out there to be smart and protect yourselves from various
sexually transmitted diseases by using condoms when having intercourse.

               *    *     *     *     *     *     *     *

The Castaway Hotel-Book 6-by BW (Young-Friends).  Copyright 2000 by billwstories
Chapter 12 - Pearls from the oyster.              October 2002

I tore the envelope from Genelex Corporation open, hoping that it would
give me the information I wanted.  I excitedly, yet nervously, began to
read.

"The samples you provided were run through the Genelex testing procedures,
and it has been determined that there is 0% chance that donor A is the
father of donor B.  These results were verified, using a secondary testing
procedure."

Damn.  It worked.  That piece of garbage wasn't Cody's father.  I was very
relieved to read that.  I phoned Steve immediately, not only to tell him
the good news, but to also ask him to draft a letter to that creep, telling
him that there would be no more money coming his way.  Now I just had to
hope that this other guy was a nearly perfect match to be donor, and that
he would agree to do just that for Cody.  Whether I wanted it this way or
not, all my eggs were now in one basket.

As Saturday morning neared, I grew more and more nervous.  I didn't want to
call this guy first, to arrange a time to meet with him, because I was
worried doing that would spook him.  Instead, we were just going to drive
there, taking the chance that he'd be home on a Saturday and would be
willing to speak with us.  I don't usually like to go off half-cocked like
this, but in this case I felt it would be a calculated risk we'd have to
take.  Since Steven had agreed with my reasoning, it seemed to lend
credence to my paranoia.

It was a long drive, or at least it seemed that way, primarily because I
was so nervous about this meeting.  I couldn't stop wondering if it would
go any better than the other meeting had, the one with the pimp.  I knew
that once we proved this guy was Cody's father, accepting him in that role
would be an easier pill for Cody to swallow.  This guy seemed to be a
respectable citizen, with a family of his own, and we would merely explain
to Cody that the guy never knew he existed, or even knew Cody's mother had
been pregnant.  I was counting on the ignorance factor to be my ace in the
hole, proving to Cody that this guy never rejected him or shunned his role
of being a father.  The reason he hadn't been there for him was due to the
fact that he just never knew he was a dad.

Following the maps I had printed off the Internet, I quickly found his
street, and it was in a very nice neighborhood.  The house was probably
about 20 or 30 years old, but it was very well maintained.  Seeing his
current situation, I began to wonder how this guy had gotten hooked up with
a prostitute in the first place.  We parked along the curb, and I walked up
to his house alone.  If his wife or children were home, I'd ask him to go
with us for coffee or something, but if not, then I'd wave to Steve,
letting him know he could join us.  I was now standing in front of his
door, ready to ring the doorbell, but you wouldn't believe the nervousness
and trepidation I felt.  Slowly I overcame these feelings and moved my
index finger forward, until it made contact with the button, and I heard
the chimes go off inside the house.  Soon a small, blond-haired boy, about
8 or 9 years old, opened the door.

"Hello, is your father home?" I asked him.

"Yeah, just a second," he told me.  "Daaaaaaaaad," he screamed, as he
walked away from the door, leaving it open and me standing there alone.
"It's for you," I heard him continue.

After a few seconds, a good-looking guy in his early thirties walked up to
the door.  "Hello, may I help you?" he asked me, eyeing me suspiciously.

"I hope you may, but I think we need to discuss this in private," I
responded, glancing over his shoulder to see if anyone else was
approaching, and hoping he got my drift.

"In regards to what?" he persisted.

"About something that it's better for little ears not to overhear," I
answered, hoping this time he'd catch on.  He seemed to comprehend at this
point, and he stepped out on the doorstep, closing the door behind him.

"Now what's this about?" he asked softly, but quite directly.

"Do you remember a Marianne Reynolds?" I asked, in a low tone.  He glanced
over his shoulder quickly, eyeing the door to make sure it was still
closed, and he looked a little panicked, as beads of perspiration began to
appear on his forehead.  "I.I don't know," he stammered.  "I...well, maybe
it's...uh...a possibility."

"Now, don't you think it's better we go somewhere else to pursue this
topic?" I advised him.

He glanced nervously over his shoulder again, making certain the door
hadn't opened in the past few seconds.  "But what will I tell my wife?" he
wondered.

"You could tell her an old friend, an old high school teacher, or an old
college professor looked you up, and wants to take you out for a drink."

"That won't work.  She'd want to invite you in and meet you too."

"Where do you work?" I asked, trying to think up a new strategy.

"I'm vice-president of a bank."

"Could you tell her that we just notified you of a problem concerning the
bank, and you have to go with us, to check it out?"

"I don't think that would work either.  First of all, I'm not the one who
would respond to those types of situations, and when there is a problem I
need to handle, someone would phone me at home, not show up at my door."

"Can't you think of anything that WOULD work?" I pleaded.

"Not really.  I'm not the type of guy who has problems pop up like this, at
least until now."

"Okay, how about this?" I began, hoping this idea might work.  "We'll leave
and drive down the street and take the first right we come to.  We'll stop
and wait for you there.  You drive down to meet us in a few minutes, and
we'll follow you to someplace where we can talk."

"But what will I say if my wife asks who you were and what you wanted."

"Tell here we were Jehovah's Witnesses or a member of the Church of Latter
Day Saints, hoping to convert you and your family to our religion."

"But don't they generally give you hand outs when they do that?"

"Yes, but tell her you were adamant that you didn't want any."

"Okay, that might work, but now how do I get out of the house?  What excuse
shall I use to leave?"

"Tell her you need to pick something up, check something out, or that
you're going to watch one of the college basketball games at your local
hangout."  My eyes were pleading with him now.

"Hmmm, let me think."  He hesitated, as he began to think about this
suggestion.  "Well, the kids have been asking me to get a new mouse for the
computer.  The old one has been acting up."

"Great, then tell her that's what you're going to get."

"Okay, but I hope she or the kids don't want to go with me."

"Just think of an excuse why they can't, or just don't give them time to
ask.  We need to do this quickly.  It's very urgent."

"Okay, I'll join you shortly."

I went back to the car, got in it, and we drove down the street.  When I
came to the first street on the right hand turn, I took it, and then I
stopped the car and waited for him to show up.  It wasn't long before he
pulled up beside us, signaled for us to follow him, and we slowly made our
way out of his neighborhood.  He eventually led us over to a small bar, and
we went in and ordered our drinks, carrying them to a table in the back,
where we could talk privately.  Once I thought he was comfortable, I
broached the subject again.

"So, do you remember Marianne Reynolds?"

"I think you already know the answer to that.  It's a name from the past,
the very distant past.  I was in college then, and I needed an occasional
sexual release, without any strings or commitments that would interfere
with my studies or my future.  That's how I met her, but why are you here,
bringing all of this up now?"

"It's a long story, but leave it to suffice that you and she are involved
in something that also affects me.  There is also another person involved
in this matter, someone whom you have never met."

"And whom might that be?"

"Her son...and possibly yours too."  His mouth dropped open as I said that,
and a shocked and horrified expression spread across his face.

"Oh, shit.  That can't be true.  She never said anything, and I never knew.
Why would she wait until now to bring this up?"  He thought for a moment
and then continued.  "Wait!  She was a hooker, so how could she be sure the
child was mine?"

"I'm not sure about that, but she did leave the names of those she thought
might possibly be the father.  Others have already been eliminated, and now
there is only your name left in the hat."

"No, this can't be happening.  I'm happily married, I have two sons of my
own, and I don't need this popping up now.  This could destroy my
marriage."

"Well, it doesn't have to be like that.  All we are asking is that you
allow some blood to be taken from you, so it can be sent to a lab for a DNA
comparison.  It's that simple."

"And if it turns out that this kid is mine?  I suppose then Marianne will
come after me and sue for child support.  Once that happens, my wife will
find out, and my whole world will come crashing in on me.  She'll probably
leave me then, and I'll end up paying child support for three kids, none of
whom will ever want to see me again."

"No, that's not how it will play out.  Let me fill you in about a few
things.  Marianne has passed away, and her son lives with me.  We don't
want any support money from you, and your wife need never to find out about
any of this.  The reason we need to know whether you're his father or not,
is because he has leukemia and he needs a blood and bone marrow donation.
The doctor says a related donor would work best, and have the best chance
to help him get healthy again.  If you are the boy's father, all we'd ask
from you is for that blood and bone marrow donation, to increase his chance
of survival."

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry I was so insensitive about this.  Is he going be all
right?  Certainly I'll cooperate.  I'd want the same for my sons too, and,
well, he just MIGHT be my son."

"If you wouldn't mind, Steve is my lawyer, and he has drawn up an agreement
for you to sign.  All it states is you are willing to allow the DNA testing
to be performed, and if the boy proves to be yours, you will donate blood
and bone marrow cells to him, providing the match is within acceptable
limits.  It also stipulates that you are willing to sign off on your
parental rights, so I might adopt him.  Will any of that be a problem?"

He thought about this for a second.  "No, in fact that would get me off the
hook concerning my own situation, but I can't have the blood taken locally.
Word might get back to her."

"You're not very far from Pittsburgh, so I could arrange to have everything
done there, if that would be better for you."

"Yeah, it would.  Okay, set it up and let me know when you need me there.
I'll take some time off from work and I'll think up some excuse to tell my
wife.  Thank you for not blurting this out in front of her.  That would
have been devastating to us all, especially if she found out I might also
have impregnated a lady of the evening."

"It was the least I could do, as long as you are willing to help my future
son."  The guy smiled at me, appreciating the fact that I was going to take
care of this child, even if it turned out Cody was his son.  He signed the
contract, and we grabbed a total stranger to witness it, and then we all
left.  Now, we each had what we needed.  This guy had his secret kept
intact, and I had a man willing to be tested, to see if he could donate
cells to Cody.  All in all, it was a good day.

On the way back, we took a detour through Pittsburgh, so I could make the
arrangements for his testing, and possible donation later.  When that was
completed, we headed home, more optimistic about Cody's future.  I have to
admit that I breathed a sigh of relief, as we drove out of the 'Steel
City', but I knew Cody wasn't out of the woods yet.  We still had to hope
that this guy was an acceptable match, so we could go forward with the
donation procedure.

We got back late that evening, having spent most of the day on the road.  I
thanked Steve, yet again, for all his help, and he merely smiled and told
me he'd add it to my I.O.U.  I told him that must be about equal to the
national debt by now, and he just chuckled, as he strode toward his front
door.  Damn, how would I ever repay him for everything he has done for my
boys and me?

When I got home, I called the guy we had visited earlier in the day, and I
gave him all the information he would need.  Once he had copied all that
down, I thanked him, once more, for his cooperation.  In a whisper, he
reiterated his stance about hoping someone would have gone to the same
extremes to help his own sons, if they were in a similar situation.  After
that, I told him I'd notify him, once I got the results back, to let him
know if the donation was possible.  He indicated that if Cody did turn out
to be his son, he might like to meet him, without Cody knowing whom he
really was.  He said this would just be to satisfy his curiosity, and let
him see what he had missed out on.  I told him that would be fine, and he
could come to our house sometime, whenever it was convenient for him.  I
told him I'd introduce him as the son of a friend, and no one would ever
question that explanation.  Then he thanked me for being willing to do that
for him.  I also let him know, that until the test results were back, we
wouldn't need to contact each other again, just in case he worried this
might become a frequent thing.  I think that gave him a little more peace
of mind too.

We kicked March off by going to the banquet with Trey, so we could see him
receive his award.  Not all of us would be able to go, however.  Seeing
there was limited seating at this function, only three tickets were sent to
each winner, so we had to make a decision about who was going to attend
with Trey.  When asked for his opinion, Trey told me he wanted me to go
with him, but he also wanted Dion to be there too, so he could share this
special moment with him.  He asked me if I thought Jake would be upset
about this, and I told him I'd speak to Jake about it later, but I doubted
he'd have a problem with what Trey wanted.  Trey then stated he would do
something special for Jake at another time, to make it up to him, for not
being able to go to this banquet.  I agreed with him that something like
that would be a nice thing to do, and I assured him that Jake would
probably appreciate that even more.

After we decided who would go, we also had to make our selection for the
meal, though the choices were unusually vague.  We were merely given the
option of having beef, chicken, or fish for the main course.  Seeing I love
fish, but seldom fix it at home, I selected that for my meal, but Trey and
Dion opted for the chicken.  The boys had expressed some concern about the
meal being prepared in a manner they might not care for, and I told them
not to worry.  If that were the case, they could eat whatever they found
acceptable, and then we'd stop for something else on the way home.  That
seemed to satisfy their apprehensions, so I sent our R.S.V.P. and meal
selections back to the committee.

Soon, the day of the banquet arrived.  We left the house around 4:00 p.m.,
as the banquet was scheduled to begin at 7:00 and we wanted to leave a
little extra time, so we could possibly do other things before it started.
I thought we might be able to check out some of the artwork or read some of
the other entries, and I was hoping we might also find an opportunity to
speak with some of the other winners, or their parents.  Let's face it,
this was going to be a gathering of a very elite and impressive group of
young people, and I wanted to take advantage of being there, so I could
learn what motivated the others to rise to this level of achievement.

Seeing we only made a very brief stop along the way, to stretch our legs
and use the toilet, we reached our destination well ahead of schedule.  I
thought it would be best if we went directly to the banquet hall, and as I
suspected, the award winning artwork was hung throughout the hall.  The
winning writing entries were also on display, arranged neatly across a long
table, for others to peruse.  We read some of the poems and short stories,
and we read each synopsis that the committee had placed on the dramatic
scripts, novels, and other longer works.  After that, we walked around the
hall, looking at all the various award-winning artwork, impressed by the
high level of achievement exhibited.  Some of these kids were obviously
extremely gifted, and they used a variety of media and techniques to
express themselves.  By the time we finished looking at everything, we
located our table and took our seats.

At this point we made another discovery, as we learned the seating had been
arranged according to submission categories.  We were located at a table
with two others who had written dramatic scripts as well, though we soon
discovered some differences in their approach.  This category was varied,
and there were different subcategories the authors could gear their work
toward.  Trey had done a screenplay, intended for film, but the boy next to
us wrote his script for a television program, while the girl to the other
side of us wrote a play for the stage.  The three of them talked about many
things, like why they had chosen that format, how difficult it had been to
word it so others would get the meaning they intended, and how many hours
it had taken them to write it, proofread it, make notes, and then rewrite
it.

The parents also added their two-cents worth, stating what they did to
support their child's effort.  They would explain how they had offered
suggestions or constructive criticism, to improve the piece, and they gave
examples of how they encouraged them to keep going, even when it became too
frustrating to go forward or they suffered from a temporary writer's block.
I think all of us could identify with nearly everything that was said,
though I added little to this conversation.  I did get the impression that
some of these parents were very pushy, possibly forcing their children to
succeed, and I wondered if entering this contest was actually their child's
idea or their own.

When the banquet finally began, we listened to the opening remarks from the
committee chairperson, and then the meal was served.  It was a very nice
sit-down dinner, and we soon discovered that we need not have worried about
our dinner selections.  I was served broiled filet of sole, done in lemon
juice, and the boys had a chicken breast, breaded and prepared with a touch
of seasoning.  We were also served a small salad, and there were several
side dishes placed at each table.  After we finished our desserts, a creme
de menthe parfait, the keynote speaker was introduced, and he began his
address.  The speaker just happened to be the Governor of the State of
Pennsylvania.  He commented on how proud the entire state and educational
system was of the students' accomplishments, wished them luck as they moved
on to the regional competition, and then told them he hoped that some of
them received recognition at the national level too.  His speech wasn't as
long as you might have expected, and when it was over, the plaques were
handed out.  Each individual received a nice ovation when he or she stepped
up to accept their award, and the presenter made a comment about why the
committee chose that particular piece, over the other entries.  It was not
only enjoyable, but also informative.

When the banquet was over, we said good-bye to those who sat with us, and
we exchanged farewells with others we had become acquainted with, and then
we made our way back to the car.  Once we were safely inside our vehicle,
we passed Trey's plaque around and admired it, telling him, once again, how
proud we were of him.  In fact, after meeting the other winners, his
accomplishments seemed even more impressive, because he did it all on his
own, without anyone pushing him.

When we arrived home, everyone else wanted to see the plaque too, and then
I asked Trey if he wanted me to hang it in the family room, or if he
preferred to hang it in his own room.  After thinking about this, he told
me he thought it would be more appropriate if he hung it in his own room,
as it wasn't as if we had a trophy wall where we hung everyone's awards.  I
told him it was entirely up to him, and I'd do whatever he wanted, but he
stuck with his decision, and took it up to his and Dion's room.

That Monday, when I went back to work, I began to shuffle through the
paperwork that had accumulated on my desk.  As I made my way through the
budget requests, personnel evaluations, and various other items, I came
across a paper listing the All-State Band and Choir selections.  Normally I
would have just glanced through the list, to see how many of students who
were selected I might have known, but a name jumped right out at me, as I
read down the list of names.  Almost as if I were drawn to it by some sort
of magnetic force, there appeared the name of Dion Currie, under the tenor
section.

I did a double-take, to make sure I hadn't misread it, but there it was,
just as plain as life, and now I had another family member to be more than
a little proud of.  Obviously his name had been entered and chosen before
his music teacher agreed to give him private voice lessons, so I could only
imagine where that raw talent would take him, once he was able to polish
off the rough edges.  Now I began to wonder if these boys would have
reached this same level of recognition, had they not come to live with me,
and I concluded they would have, provided they had teachers along the way
who encouraged them to use and refine those talents.  The potential would
have been there, no matter where they lived, the only variable would have
been whether or not anyone would have noticed and nurtured that ability,
thus bringing them into their own.

About an hour later, I got a call from Dion's music teacher, asking me if I
had seen the All-State selections.  I later discovered that she had just
gone to her mailbox and retrieved her copy of the same letter, learning
about it for the first time herself.  When I told her I had, she expressed
her excitement, and told me she would find Dion and let him know
personally, unless I wished to tell him later, at home.  I told her that I
would leave that privilege to her, as she had been the one to draw out that
ability and had been the one to help him refine it, and I knew Dion would
enjoy it more, hearing it from her.  She agreed, thanked me, and offered
her congratulations.  I thanked her, sat back, and thought about how this
group of young men continued to amaze me.

Dion was so excited, by the time he got home, that he was literally
bouncing off the walls.  He had already told all of his brothers, many of
whom he told when he had run into them at school.  By the time I got home,
he pounced on me before I even got in the door, and he excitedly told me
about his selection.  When he finished, I told him I had already seen the
letter at my office, and received a call from his teacher, but I also made
sure to let him know how proud I was of him.  He beamed, looked over his
shoulder, and then turned back to me, and whispered.

"I guess Trey's not the only one with talent in this family."  I just
smiled at him and nodded, knowing this was extremely important to him, to
prove that he didn't have to take a backseat to anyone, especially his
lover.

A couple of days later, my attention was drawn back to Cody, when I heard
from Steve Shay again.  When my secretary told me he was on the line, I
first I thought he was calling me to tell me about the paternity test
concerning Cody, but then I remembered that information came directly to
me.  Realizing that, it made me wonder what this call could be about,
especially since he would normally call me at home, and not at work, so I
answered the phone quickly.

"Hi, Steve."

"Josh, I've got great news for you.  Seeing we had both men sign off on
custody rights, in case Cody turned out to be their son, I went ahead and
filed the adoption paperwork.  I just heard that everything is in order,
and I put it on my docket for Friday, March 14th.  I just thought you'd
like to know that, and you can share the information with Cody, if you
wish.  I'm sure he'll be thrilled about it, and maybe this will be the
thing that lifts his spirits, and his health.  Congratulations."

"Thanks, Steve.  This truly is wonderful news.  I'll pass it on to Cody
tonight, and I don't know how I'll ever be able to repay you for all of
this."

"Seeing all of you together and happy is payment enough for me.  All I ask
is that you keep up the good work."

"Not a problem, and thanks again."

Wow, this was a complete surprise to me, as I thought it would be a few
more months before the adoption would go through.  I knew we had to wait
until we were certain as to legal paternity, and that his biological father
would have to sign off on the adoption, if he could be found, but I
expected that to take time.  I never realized that those contracts we had
each guy sign would do the trick, and clear the way for the adoption to
take place.  I should have realized that Steve's brilliant legal mind would
not rest until this issue was behind us, but I guess I had too many other
things distracting me, to come to that conclusion on my own.  Now I
couldn't wait to tell Cody the great news.

You wouldn't have believed the look on Cody's face, when I told him about
the adoption.  It was a mixture of surprise, joy, and amazement.  As the
reality of what I said sank in, he leaped onto my lap, wrapped his arms
around my neck, and began to strangle me.  Yes, that's what it felt like,
as I was forced to gasp for breath, not to mention the knee he placed
firmly in my groin, bringing tears to my eyes.  I was thinking next time I
had good news to give him, I'd put on a protective cup and a suit of armor
first, to prevent the pain and permanent damage.  I'm actually surprised
I'm not singing soprano now, especially with all the accidental low blows
Cody has given me since he's been here.

Once we separated, he raced around the house, to tell everyone else the
good news.  He bolted from room to room shouting, "I'm getting adopted."
All of the boys followed him back to the family room, when he came back to
thank me again, like the mice following the Pied Piper.  It was such a
wonderful and exhilarating feeling, to see Cody this excited, and his joy
was contagious, as everyone else got caught up in his delight.

It seemed like it took forever until the day of the adoption arrived,
mainly because each day Cody would ask me how much longer it was going to
be.  It was kind of like the kids repeatedly asking on a trip, "Are we
there yet?"  I knew this was only because he was looking forward to it so
much, so I couldn't get annoyed or upset, but I would definitely be
relieved when it was official.  That afternoon I picked him up after
school, along with some of the other boys, but the others all turned up at
the courthouse, on their own.  No one wanted to miss welcoming their newest
brother into the fold.

Steve conducted the ceremony, as he always did, giving his own
congratulatory remarks before he finished.  It was almost as if Steve had
handed Cody a check for a billion dollars, as Cody took the copy of the
official records.  He raced around the courtroom showing everyone what it
said.  He was now a Currie.

We went out to celebrate afterward, as was our custom, but even I was
surprised when we arrived home later.  Unbeknownst to me, Sally, Mary, and
Steve had hung a banner off our porch, and it read "Welcome to the family,
Cody Currie".  Cody was even more excited about this, and he asked me if
he'd be able to keep the banner forever.  I told him he could, and then he
and the boys raced into the house, while I went to collect the mail.  I
glanced at the various letters I'd received, as I walked up the driveway,
and then I noticed one return address in particular.  It was that of the
Genelex Corporation.

                *    *     *     *     *     *     *     *

If you have enjoyed reading this story, you will find other stories by me
by clicking on the Nifty author link and scrolling down to "BW".  This will
give you the links for everything I have posted there.

E-mails may be sent to: bwstories8@aol.com.