Date: Thu, 10 Apr 2003 10:48:19 -0400 From: Tom Cup <tom_cup@hotmail.com> Subject: Of Our Teenaged Years - Chapter 4 - Gay Y/F Copyright 2000 - 2003 by the Paratwa Partnership: A Colorado Corporation. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, except in the case of reviews, without written permission from the Paratwa Partnership, Inc, 354 Plateau Drive, Florissant, CO 80816 This is a fictional story involving alternative sexual relationships. If this type of material offends you, please do not read any further. This material is intended for mature adult audiences. Names, characters, locations and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. ************************************************************************ What's new at TomCup.com? Age Before Beauty Chapter 4 Added 4/08 Calvin: Identity Crisis Chapter 12 Added 4/02 Of Our Teenage Years Chapter 8 Added 3/30 Mentoring Brandon Chapter 8 Added 3/29 Raptors By Richard Dean Chapter 7 Added 3/23 Private Lessons Chapter 5 Added 3/06 KOA Boy Chapter 5 Added 02/27 In Memory of Steve: Chapter 9 Added 2/13 Stephen Miller's Journal Chapter 11 Added 1/29 Short Story: Ambrosius Added 1/29 Short Story: Blair Manor Added 1/29 Sexfiles File 10 Added 11/30 Short Story: Can I Stay With You Added 11/30 Terms of Living Chapter 11 Added 11/16 Short Story: Boys Will Be Boys Added 11/15 And much more. Check it out! ************************************************************************ Of Our Teenage Years By Tom Cup Chapter 4 Sharon, my Sharon "Ready to go?" Sharon asked, peering into my room. The mall had become a popular hang out for several reasons. If you said you were going to meet friends "downtown" you could walk around for hours, hot and sweaty or cold and miserable depending on the weather, and never run into them. If you said, `I'll meet you at the mall,' you would eventually meet inside an ideal temperature controlled calamity designed for human comfort levels. Also, it was a hassle finding parking downtown. If Sharon and I had told Dad we were headed downtown, he might have balked or insisted that he drive us so the car didn't get scratched while being parked. The mall alleviated those fears. There was plenty of parking and Dad knew that Sharon would park well away from the other cars. Mom said it was a shame that the downtown district was losing so much business because of the new mall on the outskirts of town but that didn't stop her from jumping on the new interstate highway and doing her shopping at the mall. We all realized that our town was changing, becoming something regrettably modern, just as our family was reshaping itself. But that didn't prepare me for what Sharon was wearing. I was used to Sharon's thigh hugging bellbottoms -- every girl wore them -- bellbottom pants were the rage though I still preferred straight-legged Levi jeans. No, it wasn't the bellbottoms per se, it was the way they hung on her hips and the halter-top she wore with them. My mouth opened and closed a few times. Dad had agreed we could borrow the car to get to the mall but I was sure that getting out of the house would be the real challenge. "You can't go like that!" I said, pointing at her exposed belly. "Lighten up Gerald. We're going to the mall not church." "Dad's not going to let you out of the house like that!" I protested. "We'll see." Dad was reading the paper at the kitchen table; his reading glasses perched at the center of his nose, a pipe hanging between his teeth. He grunted at something he was reading as we entered the room. Mom's mouth opened to say good morning and then closed again. She sighed, shook her head and said, "Oh, Sharon." That made Dad look up. I was already backing slowly toward the door. "Morning mother," Sharon beamed, walking over and planting a kiss on Dad's cheek. Dad eyed her over the top of the newspaper and his glasses. I waited with bated breath -- any moment Dad would tell Sharon to go to her room and put on some clothes. Dad shook his head and smiled, ruffled the paper, and went back to reading. Mom refilled Dad's cup with coffee, kissed him on the cheek, and sat next to him pretending to be interested in the sport's page he was reading. I sat with my mouth opened. When did my parents become so hip? It was one thing to accept my being gay, but I couldn't believe they were going to let Sharon -- their only daughter -- get away with going out in public looking like a... a ...slut! I don't remember the chitchat that Sharon and my parents engaged in; I was still in disbelief that neither of my parents had demanded Sharon put on something decent before we left the house. I broke from my trance as Sharon accepted the twenty-dollar bill from Dad, and said to me, "Let's go Gerald." "Maybe you should take a sweater," Mom offered, "It may get a bit chilly." "We're going to be inside," Sharon answered, pulling me by the arm toward the front door. I felt anchored by Mom's suggestion of a sweater, even though Sharon ignored it; my parents hadn't dove over the deep end into a free-for-all, freefall, of new morality. My world was becoming a whirling sea. I needed some ballast. Mom's comment, and Dad's wink, as I looked back at them gave me that ballast. ************ Sharon had the day planned. We would walk around for a while, get something to eat, and then hit the movies. My family didn't go to the movies a lot -- at least my parents and I didn't -- but Sharon did. The moment we got to the mall, a group of girls found her and began chatting non-stop. I was sullen, thinking I was going to be abandoned. But Sharon quickly introduced me and told them that it was `our day out.' I got my hair mussed, and Sharon was told how cute I was. I turned away in embarrassment. Sharon walked away with me, her arm casually over my shoulder, telling them we would meet them later. As we walked through the mall, Sharon explained mall etiquette to me. Groups of boys would, from time to time, wave or shout their hellos to Sharon. Sometimes she would wave and stop for a short conversation, other times Sharon would roll her eyes -- her only comment to unwanted attention. I wondered how the boys met the girls if all the girls hung together in their groups and all the boys in their groups. Sharon laughed. "You'll see." I was uneasy when we stopped to talk with a group of boys. They eyed me suspiciously. Sharon clung to me. I became flush and my palms sweaty. There was always that odd boy that didn't seem to fit in with the rest of the gang -- staring at me, wondering what I was doing roaming around with such a hot babe. I had previously seen two scary movies in the theater: The Exorcist and Towering Inferno. I had a healthy fear of both the devil and fire. The two went together quite well. I was about to gain another fear -- the fear of swimming in the ocean. We were going to see Jaws. As we stood in line, I realized I had to pee. I excused myself -- Sharon rolling her eyes at me and telling me to hurry -- and headed off to the restroom. I was beginning to relieve myself when one of the boys that I had noted as being on the outskirts of his particular gang entered and stood at the stall next to me. "So you're Sharon's brother," he said, unzipping and beginning his flow. My own flow trickled to a stop even though I wasn't quite done. The relaxed air in which he began the conversation while pissing took me by surprise. Weren't you supposed to pee in silence, looking up at the wall, like in an elevator staring silently at the backlit floor numbers? I tried to remember if I had shaken my dick. I didn't want to appear to be gay, but I couldn't remember the appropriate number of shakes. Was it two or four shakes that proved you were gay? I had an overwhelming urge to check out the other boy's package. I squeezed my eyes shut. I felt heat rise to my checks. I hadn't answered him. He flushed his urinal. I heard the water start as he washed his hands. I glance over my shoulder; he glanced back at me and shrugged. I had made a fool of myself. I finished pissing, flushed, and went to wash my hands, as he exited the restroom. Sharon had finished purchasing the tickets, and was standing next to the ticket taker, waving at me. I excused myself, moving to the head of the line, and entered the theater lobby. "What took you so long?" "I..." I didn't have time to finish. Sharon's eyes lightened as she looked behind me. I glanced over my shoulder to see two guys approaching. The older boy carried two tubs of popcorn, the younger four sodas in a cardboard carrier. I didn't know their names, but I recognized the younger of the two immediately, the boy from the restroom. I wanted to die. "Gerald this is Doug," Sharon said, introducing the older boy. "Hey," he greeted me, handing Sharon one of the tubs of popcorn, and me the other. "And this is George," Sharon said, "Doug's brother. They're going to sit with us." Doug grabbed two of the sodas from George, and he and Sharon head toward the theater. I was frozen to my spot. George stood staring at me. Sharon and Doug stopped, and looked back at us. "You coming?" Sharon asked. I sighed. George and I followed them into the dark theater. ************ George and I sat two rows behind Doug and Sharon. I was furious. I hadn't come to the mall to be saddled with a strange boy. How could Sharon do that to me? I watched as she flirted with Doug, and then fended off his flirtations. But the movie soon captured us all. The flirtations in front of us ceased, and George and I began nervously chomping popcorn. After the music thumping, first frightening sight of Jaws by Robert Shaw, I forgot the uneasiness of the situation and dug inattentively into the popcorn tub. George and my hands met. We both recoiled in shock. There were several embarrassed whispers of "I'm sorry," exchanged. My face was hot red. I feared being caught staring at him. We watched the rest of the movie in silence, heads achingly forward. But I did steal glances at the boy next to me, and surprisingly found him attractive. George had dusty brown hair and dark brown eyes. We caught each other a few times eying one another from the corners of our eyes, and then quickly returned our attention to the screen. There was nothing new about my attraction to George. I would have felt the same mix of excitement, fear, and curiosity toward him even before my recent self-discovery. What was different -- as the movie wound to an end -- was that I felt comfortable acknowledging to myself that I was attracted to him, and that I wanted him to notice me. It was liberating to know that I was truly gay. It wasn't just Sam; it wasn't just a phase. I liked boys. I had a sense of who I was. I smiled to myself. The movie ended. We flowed into the mall and stood in the walkway looking left, and then right. A few of Sharon and Doug's friends gathered around them. It was obvious that they would like to lose the two little brothers for a while. I asked Sharon if I could have some money for the arcade. She smiled, kissed me on the cheek, and whispered, "You're the best." She then handed me a five. We agreed to meet at the arcade in two hours. George and Doug were in deep whispers with each other when I turned to leave. "Hey Gerald wait up!" George came running up behind me. "You mind if I go?" I didn't mind at all. ************ On the radio, Neil Sedaka sang: Strolling along country roads with my baby. It starts to rain; it begins to pour. Without an umbrella we're soaked to the skin. I feel a shiver run up my spine. I feel the warmth of her hand in mine. Oo, I hear laughter in the rain, walking hand in hand with the one I love. Oo, how I love the rainy days and the happy way I feel inside. I had had a good time at the mall, but the song was changing my mood. I lay on my bed contemplating the day. Sharon and Doug were in the early stages of seriously considering dating -- I found that out from George who confessed he had to be my friend, or his older brother would beat the shit out of him. I laughed. If I had told Sharon I hated George that wouldn't have stopped her from seeing Doug, but in Doug's mind George and I had to get along if he was to have a chance with Sharon. As it turned out, George was fun to be around. I caught George a few times eyeing me, as if he had noticed something strange about me but didn't know exactly what it was. I was tempted to yell, "I'm gay! OK! Stop staring at me!" But I didn't. I wasn't really ready to let everyone in on my little secret, but it did bother me to think someone might unconsciously suspect, like I was giving off some kind of gay pheromone or something. After a while we run under a tree. I turn to her and she kisses me. There with the beat of the rain on the leaves, softly she breathes and I close my eyes. Sharing our love under stormy skies. Oo, I hear laughter in the rain, walking hand in hand with the one I love. Oo, how I love the rainy days and the happy way I feel inside. Sam hadn't called. When I walked in the door, I wanted Mom to say that he had been trying to call me all day. I hovered around the kitchen, waiting for her to remember what she had forgotten to tell me, until I had to ask; my face was hot with my anxiousness to hear that Sam had called. Mom looked at Dad before she answered. Yes, I thought, there is trouble in paradise. She wanted so badly to tell me Sam had called. I wanted so badly to hear that he had. I put up a brave front and didn't cry in front of them -- lingering longer in the kitchen than I had to before retiring to my bedroom. I let a few tears fall before turning on the radio; now I was ready to turn it off. Elton John began singing "Lucy in the sky with diamonds." I had no idea what he was singing about, but it was a popular tune and it didn't make me think about how much I missed Sam. I tried to imagine the things that the song suggested: the boat on the river, tangerine trees, marmalade skies and somebody calling me. Somebody was calling me. There was a pounding on my door. I rose from my bed, crossed the room to turn off the radio, and then opened the door. It was Sharon. "Jesus Gerald," she hissed, "You whacking off in here or something." "No," I whined, flustered that she would suggest such a thing. She was smiling and ruffled my hair to let me know she was teasing. "Sam's on the phone." My mouth dropped open. "Well, you going to answer it, or should I tell him you're busy?" I hugged her. She kissed the top of my head, and then my cheek. "Well?" she asked. There was so much I wanted to say to my sister at the moment. I wanted to thank her for treating me like I was normal. I wanted to thank her for not being ashamed of me, not being afraid to introduce me to her friends, and potential boyfriend, even though having a gay brother could have made her an outcast. I realized that if I had told George or Doug I was gay and they had had a problem with it, Sharon would have dropped them like a bad habit; I understood that as my sister held me. I had been wrong. She loved me, first. That was what the trip to the mall had been about. It wasn't about me finding a new boyfriend, or me scoping out boys. It was Sharon's way of showing me she wasn't ashamed of me. I hugged her again, smiled into her eyes, and then headed for the phone to talk to my boyfriend. ************************************************************************ Send comments to: comments@tomcup.com To support this and other stories by the author, join at http://www.tomcup.com. If you like this story, check out Tom Cup's "Calvin: A Coming of Age Story." Available at Barnes and Nobles Bookstores, Amazon.com and our local independent bookseller.