Dylans Freshman Year

DYLAN'S FRESHMAN YEAR

Chapter 20

by Donny Mumford

I step on a FedEx package right inside the door of our suite; someone slipped it under the door. Willie must have missed it in his rush to get to the bathroom. I pick it up, and read 'To: William Worthington,' and call out, "Hey, Willie, a FedEx thing for you... it was forwarded over from the Casa Marina Resort. It's from your father." Willie comes out of the bathroom with a puzzled expression on his face, then stares at the envelope like he's never seen one before. The puzzled look turns to one of concern, worry even. He looks up at me, then back at the FedEx envelope. "This can't be good news," he murmurs, and I say, "Maybe your father's changed his mind about you going to University of Pennsylvania." Willie scratches the side of his face, a nervous habit of his, and mumbles, "That'll be the day when he changes his mind about anything." Now Willie's flipping his bottom lip nervously with his finger, then he says, "You open it and tell me if it's bad..."

I rip the strip along the top, then pull out a regular business envelope. Opening that I find a single sheet of paper with computer printing on it... it's in the form of a letter. It starts off, "Dearest William," so far, so good. It continues, "Received your insolent email and have decided that a foul-mouthed ungrateful child such as yourself doesn't deserve an Ivy League education, so forget about Cornell too. You need a reality check, so you'll be attending community college in the fall, commuting from home. This decision is made in your best interest so that you'll get a chance to see how the other half lives, and thereby better appreciate what a privileged life you've led up till now. With that in mind I've cancelled your American Express account as well. Even though I forbid you to go on your boondoggle trip to Key West, you did so anyway. Now you can figure out how you're going to pay for it. Love, Father."

Jesus! My eyes go up to meet Willie's and he can tell from my expression it's bad news. "Oh shit! What's he doing to me now?" I pass the letter to him and his eyes travel over the lines, and as he reads his face gets redder and redder. Tears burst out, as he screams, "That bastard!" and he begins ripping the letter to shreds and throwing the pieces around the room. "He can't do this to me! No father would do this to their only son!" I'm thinking perhaps he shouldn't have sent that so-called scathing email, but say nothing. I'm shaking my head 'cause this entire fucking 'date' has been a wild roller coaster ride; the ups and downs enough to flip my stomach.

Willie, meanwhile, appears to be on the verge of hysteria, screaming incoherently while stumping on the pieces of letter that fell to the carpet. I try to touch his shoulder, but he brushes my hand away, saying, "That asshole doesn't know about my gold master card, the one mother gave me last Christmas; they haven't spoken a civil word to each other in years." Well, that seems the smallest of his problems, the credit card. Guess he's avoiding thinking about the college stuff. I go, "Um, ah... that's good. It's good you have another credit card." He goes, "Ha! I outsmarted him again."

I'm not so sure about that; then, another thought occurs to me, and I ask, "Oh, you used the gold card for this trip? I thought your father gave the trip to you as a graduation present." He makes a face, then goes, "He promised it to me, then when he got that nasty notice about me being suspended he went back on his word, the bastard. I hate him so much I could scream!" and he does scream; he's really out of control and still avoiding the major point of the letter. I go, "Um, are you alright?" He shouts, "Do I look alright to you? Would you be alright if this happened to you?" I'm thinking, "Jesus! With all this screaming security will be breaking down the door any second now." Best not to antagonize him further by explaining my college situation... I borrowed the money for college, and when I graduate I'll have to pay it back.

Willie's over at the in-room snack and mini bar compartment pulling at the door, but it's locked. "Fuck!" he exclaims, then opens the desk drawer next to it, and goes, "Ah ha! We're underage, but with the suite switch they left the key to the bar in the room anyway." He unlocks the compartment and takes out a little bottle of vodka, just like the one Sandy had on the plane. Willie grabs a small bottle of orange juice, saying, "I'm getting roaring drunk; ya wanna join me?" I mutter, "No thanks," then "How 'bout dinner tonight?" He says, "Fuck a whole bunch of dinners, I'll be drinking mine." I frown, so he turns down the volume, saying, "Order whatever you want from room service, Dylan. Sorry, but I gotta vent big time over this." He's mixing the vodka and orange juice in a glass, muttering, "Where's the ice?" I shrug and he grabs the phone, punching numbers violently, saying, "I'll have room service bring up a bucket of ice." I go, "Come on, Willie, forget the vodka and lets walk on the beach, or go down to see the sunset at Mallory Square dock."

He's talking to someone at room service, "This is suite 408, I'm disappointed there's no ice in my room, what's up with that?" then, "Um, okay, thanks," and he drops the phone back in it's cradle, saying, "We'll bring some right up for you, Mr. Worthington... that's what they said," as if he expected they'd say something other than that. I gotta pee so I go into the bathroom to do that, then wash my face and hands, stalling for time. What to do? Hmmm? Resign myself to a bad night, I guess. It's probably best that Willie stays in the room to do his venting anyway... he'd probably get locked-up if he takes his act out in public. Okay, so I'll just endure this crap; wait it out until he gets it all out of his system; yeah, but community college for Willie?! And, after a life time of private boarding schools? That's especially harsh; quite a free-fall in his standard of living. I mean, his father's the one who sent him to these posh private schools so I guess I can see Willie's point of view a little. That's a long way down from private boarding schools to a life of commuting every day to community college. Jeez, I'm not even doing that, although Elliot and his boyfriend are and they seem happy enough about it. Of course, they've never had money, and they both went to public school, so it's not really a drop-off of life style for them.

I'll try to commiserate with Willie a little bit, and look at things through his eyes... he needs a friend right now. Leaving the bathroom I see Willie on the balcony smoking, and he's already finished his drink, which I think is called a screwdriver. Then, there's a knock at the door. I answer it and find a lady with a bucket of ice, and a big smile. She says, "Your ice Mr. Worthington," as she hands me the bucket. I go, "Um, thank you," and fumble in my swim short's pocket for a tip, coming up with a five dollar bill. Dammit! Why couldn't it be a dollar bill, but I hand it to her and she smiles wider, saying, "Thank you, sir." I'm nodding at her, trying to smile back, but mostly I'm staring at my five dollar bill in her hand. She turns away taking my money with her; after a big breath, then letting it out slowly, I put the ice bucket on the desk and join Willie outside.

He turns around, still ranting, "He never gave a shit about me... never!" Then he takes out his cell phone and hits a preprogrammed number, muttering, "I'll tell mother about this and she'll make his life a living hell." I go, "Willie, wait! Calm down, think what you want to say first. Be rational." He's waving his hand at me, then says, "She's not answering, I've got mother's message box," and he leaves a rant for his mother outlining his situation, and then includes plenty of sweet comment for her, saying, "You're the only one who ever cared for me, mother, and I've always been so grateful for that...." and other comments endearing himself to her, then he clicks off, muttering, "That'll get things rolling."

I can't remember Willie ever mentioning his mother except in a critical sense, but maybe he and she are closer than I thought. Hope so anyway. I say, "Well then, Willie, it's not as bleak as it seems. Your mom will help you out with this." He goes, "Oh, fat chance of that," and he goes inside, yelling, "Where the hell's that ice?" It certainly was a quick turnaround from his loving comments on the phone, to ten seconds later saying it's "a fat chance of her helping." He's rustling in the ice cubes dropping ice into his glass; obviously he found "where the hell's the ice". Damn, this is such a pain in the ass! I light a cigarette telling myself to be patient, he just got the bad news fifteen minutes ago, so he needs time to get over it; also, maybe if he could get over himself that would help too. Oh hell, that's not very compassionate of me.

He's smoking in the room, making himself another screwdriver as I'm rolling my eyes trying to think how I can talk him off the ledge, so ta speak. Now he puts on a CD, turning it up too loud... fuck! Stomping back out on the balcony he says, "Sorry I need to put you through this, Dylan... I really am, but fuckin' community college... come on! How humiliating! All the guys I went to prep school with will be mocking me even more now, and I hate the thought of that. Fuck it, I'm not going, period. I won't go to college, that'll fuck up father. He'll hate to tell his old cronies at the club that his only son isn't going to college. See how he likes that. Two can play this game." Oh man, logic has left the building. I put my cigarette on the edge of the big ashtray, mumbling, "Um, that's not a good plan, Willie. You're mother will help you, and your father's going to change his mind too. He's upset about that email you sent him. He'll cool down, and you should too. Don't make it worse."

As he thinks about that I slip inside and turn down the Counting Crows CD a little. Back outside Willie's on another too-loud rant about his parents; now he's including his mother who he says is even more of an asshole than his father, which is puzzling considering the message he just left her. Listening to him recite a long litany of parental bad behavior I can't help but think that if even half the things he's saying are true, his parents are indeed assholes. But I don't want to stoke his fired-up rage by voicing that thought. He goes on for quite a while with me uttering noncommittal comments, like "Huh," and "Oh, man." After what seems like a couple of lifetimes he winds down, muttering, "There's only two vodka bottles in there. I'm switching to bourbon and Coke, ya want one?" I go, "No thanks, but you shouldn't mix booze... um, someone told me that once." He waves a hand at me, muttering, "Pussies," and goes in to make his new drink. This is not a fun time!

Taking another deep breath, I figure, "Okay, he'll get drunk, throw up, then pass out, and that'll be that." He's back smoking another cigarette, this one he also lit while inside. I say, "Ah, Willie, we shouldn't smoke in the room... it's, ah, a nonsmoking suite." He says, "Fuck 'em," and there's already a slur in his speech as he says it. Good, he's getting drunk and that's one drink closer to him passing out. When he conks-out I'll order a nice dinner for myself and have some quiet time while he sleeps it off. He goes, "Mmmm, this is better than the orange juice drink, I can hardly taste the bourbon." He says it almost cheerfully, and swallows a third of the drink, then goes on to tell me about his suspension from prep school.

"That little weasel, Andy, told some of our gay friends that I was acting more and more like a fairy; you know, that I was acting like a girl. Can you believe that shit? Me, acting like a girl? He spread that vial rumor because I lost interest in him; he's so fucking boring it's sick! You remember how it is in high school, jealousies abound... and then the kids he talked to start spreading more rumors about me. Andy has this clique he hangs out with and those fruits are jealous that I'm popular so they started a Facebook campaign against me, even putting-up pictures of me naked; ones taken by my asshole roommate. He took pictures of me in girl's panties and on top of that he Photoshopped bizarre pics of me that were disgusting and it became a big game and spread all over the school. I became the punchline of jokes just like that."

Taking a break, he drinks his drink and puffs heavily on his cigarette, then with renewed vigor says, "I had a big fight with Andy, giving him a black eye... kicked the shit out of him actually, and he complained to the counselor, the big baby." Willie's gulping more of his drink, so I ask, "The fight, that's why you got suspended?" I remember I got in a fight up at prep that time Willie took me to a dance as his date, and I was banned from the campus, but that was understandable because I'm an an outsider. Willie goes, "No! That wasn't it. They just put Andy in another dorm and I had the room to myself. That was fine with me... kids get in fights all the time." I go, "Oh, then what was it?" He shouts, "Let me tell the story my way, alright?"

I want to say, "Well, fuck you then," but I don't. He goes on to tell me the campaign against him got worse and the tennis team even voted him out as captain of the team. This really hurt Willie and it got so bad he quit the team altogether. Things mushroomed on him and it became the popular thing on campus to find ways to ostracize Willie; he went from being popular to being the class dork. Kids are mostly followers and even the friends Willie had, mostly from the gay kids and his teammates on the tennis team, followed the crowd and Willie was pretty much friendless the last few months of his senior year. He rambled on giving examples and it became painful to listen to. Willie has tears in his eyes telling me about his humiliations and how prep school became nightmarish instead of the haven it used to be for him; haven away from a loveless home life, I suppose. I'm feeling sorry for him by now, and that's a new emotion where Willie's concerned. I had this same feeling earlier during this so-called date; it was when he began appearing so needy. It also explains why his communications with me fizzled out the last few months. This all happened to him after the first of the year.

When he's inside making his forth drink, I ask from the balcony, "How the hell did everything go in the toilet so quickly? You were popular the times I was at prep with you." Taking a drink of his new bourbon and Coke, he comes back out on the balcony whining, "I don't have any idea how it could turn around so quickly? It was like the world was against me and even when I tried reaching out to my old buds they told me they'd rather not get involved in my feud with Andy. I just couldn't believe what was happening to me. They were condescending to me, mocking even, and I lost it a few times and had some screaming matches which made it worse. Nothing I did was right anymore. That fucking Andy is evil! I hate him!" Willie's now sloshing his "S's" when he talks, sounding drunk. Then he hugs me and cries a little, spilling some of his drink on my t-shirt. I'm rolling my eyes again... I mean, I feel bad for him, but this is going on and on and on. He's feeling so sorry for himself it's becoming harder and harder for me to sympathize with him.

He stops crying and sits down on one of the deck chairs and, talking in a monotone, finally gets around to telling me exactly what got him suspended. In between drags on his cigarette and gulps of his drink, he tells me that he made a stupid choice for getting his revenge His ill conceived plan was to waylay Andy on campus and overpower him, then take his clothes off so Andy would be seen running through the campus naked. I murmur, "Oh, Willie, dumb," he snaps back, "I know that! Do you want to hear it or not?" I go, "Hey, don't fuckin' yell at me, I'm on your side." He gets contrite and comes over slurring an apology, hugging me; his booze breath almost making me toss my cookies. "I'm so sorry, Dylan... you've always been on my side. That's why I love you so much; you're a true friend, not like those cretins at prep school; those wimpy followers of Andy. That lying son of a bitch!" I go, "Okay, okay... what happened then?"

Lighting his tenth cigarette of his rant, he sits down again and quietly says, "It started out as a fight and I did rip his shirt off and get his pants down, but security appeared out of nowhere and Andy claimed I was raping him so he got the best of me again. I can't win with him. The dean had an investigation and it came out that Andy and I were gay lover/roommates and so it was finally classified as a lovers quarrel, but I was the instigator and therefore I got a slap on the wrist; a one week suspension. The school wasn't about to have a gay rape case connected with them so they manipulated the thing the way they did. From then on I was a total outcast on campus. It was dumb, dumb, dumb... I know that, but worst of all the assholes at school sent a letter to father explaining why I got suspended and he went nuclear. My whole prep experience went from awesome to shit in three months and I lost all my friends. The Cambridge crowd turned on me too saying I always was a stuck-up snob which is total bullshit, but one of them has a brother at my prep school and he poisoned everyone's opinion of me. When something negative gets rolling it's like a runaway train, the kids all saying to themselves, 'Thank god it's not happening to me' and they won't buck the trend for fear they'll be on the shit-list too."

What can I say? I've seen a couple of similar things happen in high school, not as elaborate a scenario as Willie's, but when a kid gets labeled a dork-loser it's almost impossible to change the label, and I was like the kids Willie spoke of; I was glad it wasn't me, and I'm not proud to say I didn't befriend the poor kids it happened to. We're inside now with Willie sitting on the floor, his back against the wall, and me in the desk chair still giving Willie my full attention, but it's dreary going, and he's drunk, making it worse. I'm drinking a Snapple from the bar which, according to the menu on the door, cost $4.00. What a bargain! Willie drank all of the little bottles of bourbon and is now drinking rum and Coke, and not much Coke at that. He's gotta pass out soon, but all of a sudden he hops up and takes his swimming trunks off right in front of me and pulls on a pair of underpants and cargo shorts, saying, "Lets go out to see that thing at Mallory Square Dock," really slurring his words now. I go, "Sunset happened an hour and a half ago, Willie. Let's stay in." He's loses his train of thought, saying, "Did I show you this cool belt I bought at Neiman Marcus?" I mutter, "Belt, what the...?" and he puts on this big goofy-looking belt with a large belt buckle. "See, it's the large buckles you see professional golfers wearing." I go, "I don't watch golf, Willie, and sit the fuck down 'cause we're not going anywhere tonight."

He plops down and picks up his drink, muttering, "Don't you turn on me too," and by now all I'm doing is slowly shaking my head, 'cause ya can't argue with a drunk... I heard that somewhere too. Willie tells me about graduation day. "Graduates are allowed only four tickets for the graduation ceremony and mine were for Martha and Mr. Windell and my parents. It's a big deal to graduate from a prestigious prep school like Summerville... something to be proud of and relatives like to come to mingle with the cronies they went there with many years ago. Not my parents though, neither one came to see me graduate. The Windells didn't come either; father forbid them going. Further punishment for me and further reason for my classmates to mock me." He looks at me, then burst into tears, sobbing, "That was the most humiliating thing of all! No one came to my fuckin' graduation..." Well, this is pathetic, and I admit I have no respect for his parents whatsoever. You don't humiliate your child like that... it'll scar them for life! What kind of people are they? Willie blubbers for a while with me over next to him standing there rubbing his shoulder as he slumps on the floor sobbing. Fuck, why won't he pass-out? He gets himself composed a little by reminiscing about our breakup. And, oh man, this is torture. I'm back sitting in the chair listening as Willie says, "I was alright for a while... after you dumped me, I mean. I could smile for a while, and you wished me well in your kiss-off letter," I go, "Don't do this Willie, don't..." He goes on, "I thought I'd get over you, but I never did. It's why Andy seemed less and less attractive to me... he wasn't you, he wasn't anything like you and I was crying over you so much. And that's when Andy got jealous and somewhere in the bitterness he started his vindictive campaign against me. I used to think happiness was outside my window, or knocking at my door and I had only to let it in... happiness was like a firecracker on my forehead... firecrackers are fun."

What the fuck is he talking about now... firecrackers? Is he, in his disjointed ramblings, trying to blame me for all his troubles. Is that it?" He's looking at the floor saying, "I love you more than I ever did... just the touch of your hand can get me crying over you." Wait a minute here, I say, "Willie, don't blame me for this. Guys break up all the time and we're friends still, aren't we?" He goes, "I don't know for sure... anymore I don't know shit about friendship. In the end, everyone ends up alone; lost and insecure." I quietly say, "You're breaking my heart, Willie... I'm your friend, trust me on that. Would you do me a big favor and come to bed with me. We both need some sleep." If I can get him in bed, he'll fall asleep in two minutes. Instead he ignores that and gets another little bottle from the bar. This one is VO and he sips it right from the bottle, then lights a cigarette in the room, and while exhaling, he slurs, "The CD is over." Yeah, it's been over for twenty minutes, but he just noticed. I get up and put The Frey CD on, saying, "How about laying down with me," but he just sits there on the floor smoking, using his empty glass as an ashtray, as he's sipping from his tiny bottle of booze. Blowing out a lot of air, my cheeks puffed out, I shake my head, muttering, "Willie, put the cigarette out, and come to bed!" He shouts, "Don't yell at me, Dylan! I'm lonely, I lost my fuckin' soul and I'm forced to deal with a side of me that I don't recognize, and it's fucked-up my grove, dude... but I'll win in the end, I'll show them all!" In my head I'm thinking, "He just covered a galactic abyss there... an impossible leap between wishful thinking and dismal reality!" I go, "Oh God, what are you talking about, Willie... how ya gonna win and show them, huh?" He yells, "You go left and I go right, where did I go wrong?" and I realize he quoting words from The Frey's song, How To Save A Life, and just like that Sandy's Jersey boy story pops into my head and a scary premonition causes a chill to run down my spine. He asks, "Will you be my boyfriend again?" On guard now, my heart beat picking up speed, I quietly say, "I can't promise you that, Willie... it wouldn't be fair of me to tell you yes, when the answer's no. We can't be the best of lovers, but we can be the best of friends." He mumbles through his tears, "How can you be so heartless?" Then he yells, "Fuck this, I'll show everybody!" and he jumps up running out the balcony door with me right behind him, a lump in my throat and a thumping heart in my chest. Without hesitating Willie dives over the balcony railing, a beautiful executed dive if he were sober; and an amazing one considering he's drunk. I dive the same time he does and catch his ankles in both my arms, and then my body drags across the floor of the balcony from the momentum of his dive. He's wearing sandals, one comes off getting me right in the balls, fuck! Willie's hanging over the railing floundering around screaming, "I hate this world, let me go!" It's four floors down to a tiled courtyard, and certain death for Willie. That can't happen, but it's a very muggy night and my arms get sweaty quickly; they slide on his ankles so I gotta take a desperate chance... letting go of his ankles with one arm, I reach up as fast as I can and get a fistful of his shorts pulling back with all my might while my other arm leaves his ankles and grasps around his knees, then both arms are around his knees and my feet are in front of me now, solid against the bottom of the railing; he ain't going anywhere.

Willie's stops struggling, just hangs there with the heavy part of his body on the wrong side of the railing. He's probably looking down and realizing the seriousness of his rash move. Meanwhile I'm gasping for air as adrenaline pours into my system making me a little nauseous. In the background I hear Edward Slade, The Frey's lead singer, working his way through the chorus of their haunting song, How To Save A Life.

"Where did I go wrong to lose a friend

somewhere along in the bitterness.

I would have stayed up with him all night

Had I known how to save a life"

I finally have my breath back, and yell, "Willie, grab the ledge of the balcony!" and then I hear him whimper, "Help me, Dylan..." I try for calm, saying, "I am helping you, Willie... now you need to help me help you. Grab the edge of the fucking balcony and push up... I'll pull back." The song continues in my ears...

"As he begins to raise his voice you lower yours and grant him one last choice.

He'll say he's just not the same

and you'll begin to wonder why you came.

I would stay up with him all night

had I known how to save a life"

Willie gets his hands on the ledge of the balcony and pushes up as I pull back, and I'm now able to pull him to his belt buckle, which is large and caught on the other side of the railing. I mutter, "Fuck," then, taking a deep breath and, letting it out slowly, I regain my focus and calmly say, "Your belt buckle is preventing me from pulling you back over here. You need to lift your hips, do a push up on the ledge again and lift your hips as much as you can." Willie's drunk and not much help, and sounding like a scared little kid, when he says, "Okay, Dylan, here goes," and as I look through the railing I see Willie's arm muscles enlarge as he's pushing with all his might. His hips move up slightly and with my feet against the bottom of the railing I push against the railing and pull back, straining every muscle in my body and pull Willie up so his chest is resting on the top of the railing. Then, standing up, I drop his legs and get him around the waist to lift him off the railing. Safely on this side I let him go; he drops down on his hands and knees without uttering a word, he's coughing and sputtering, then throws-up a foul smelling liquid; throws up again, then slowly lays over on his side, and finally passes-out. Standing over him I feel like I'm going to barf too, but swallow hard and step back into the air conditioned room. The nauseous feeling subsides as I pull the desk chair over in front of the balcony's door and collapse onto it, watching Willie. He moves a little, then is motionless as the vomit drools around him. The Frey sing on:

"Lay down a list of what's gone wrong,

the things you've told him all along

and pray to God he hears you!

I would have stayed up with him all night

had I known how to save a life."

Getting up, swallowing hard, with tears in my eyes, I turn off the CD and there's silence... deep silence all around me... dead silence so complete I hear the pounding of my heart; then my whole body quivers as I contemplate what just happened here; the reality of it scares me greatly. It's already hard to believe it actually happened. How could he do that to himself? Hell, how could he do that to me? Sure, in his mind the world he's known has completely collapsed in on him, but I have a feeling it's only temporary because he's right... his father isn't about to tell his rich friends that he's sending his only son to community college... there's no bragging rights there. Not if his father's got an ego like Willie described during his seemingly interminable rant. I've never seen anyone as drunk as Willie; the booze totally blurring his thinking, and allowing that childish notion, "I'll show everyone; I'll kill myself and then they'll be sorry". What a horrendous night this has been! When I'm calm enough I stand-up figuring I've gotta get him inside. Grabbing his feet I drag him through the vomit into the room. When his head is at the doorway I walk down to lift his head over the sliding door's bottom rail and push him in the rest of the way. Getting his feet again I pull him next to the desk, then slide the door closed and click the lock... it smells horrendous out there He's not waking-up anytime soon, but even if he does he's so drunk it'll take him ten minutes to figure out the door's locked. While dragging Willie I get some vomit on my hands so into the bathroom for a vigorous hand washing. Then, with my hands supporting me on the sink, I stare at my reflection in the mirror questioning in my head again, "Did this really happen?" Of course it did, and how bizarre is that! Hanging my head between my arms as another wave of nausea passes through me, I wonder what kind of a dizzying life am I leading? Having no answer to that, I wash my hands again, then wash my face, determined to take some positive action... but what? Well, first: get the balcony cleaned, then maybe get the vomit off Willie. One thing at a time though, so back in the living room I check the phone and find the number for housekeeping. This is gonna be awkward, but here goes. I dial and a man answers, "Housekeeping, how may we serve you?" I go, "Um, ah... this is room 408 and, um, my friend got sick and threw-up on the balcony and I'm wondering, ah... you know, can someone clean it up, I guess." He says, "Absolutely, right away, sir. Thank you for calling. Pedro will be right up," and he hangs up. Hmmm, he certainly was nice about it.

PART II

I wet a washcloth and wipe the side of Willie's face, the side with the most gore on it, and realize my hands are shaky... just think, he tried to kill himself. God! Taking a deep breath, then I try wiping the side of his leg below his shorts where there's more yucky stuff, but there's so much of it on him! While doing that there's a timid knock at the door. Housekeeping already? Jeez, that was fast! I hope the guy doesn't notice Willie was in the bar. Dammit! I hustle around picking up the tiny liquor bottles that are scattered around the room, then dump them in the trash can before opening the door; and there stands a kid. A Hispanic choirboy with a bucket on wheels behind him. This is housekeeping? The choirboy is holding the handle of a mop that's trapped between the wringers across the top of the bucket of soapy water; water that has the distinct clean smell of Lysol about it. The boy surely has to be older than he looks since he's working here at the resort as a janitor. He's very thin, about an inch shorter than me, wearing a one piece jumpsuit, the housekeeping uniform. There's a plastic lanyard around his neck from which his identification hangs... "Housekeeping staff/Pedro Rosales" with his picture below that, and some smaller printing underneath the picture. I look at his ID and then up at his face again, stunned at how youthfully attractive he is. A second or two of silence follows, then he says in a boyish voice, reminding me of Robby's voice, "Good evening, Mr. Worthington, I'm Pedro from housecleaning, at your service." Large shiny green, almond-shape eyes, they stare into my eyes. He's fair skinned with a warm creamy tan overtone, reminding me of Chubby's complexion. This boy's skin is even smoother and more attractive than Chubby's, and I wouldn't have believe that possible if I weren't looking at this kid right now. He has a thin, sort of an aristocratic nose and a wide mouth with full rosy lips. Perfect chin. There's a full head of dark brown hair combed straight back from his forehead, curly at the ends in the back and around his ears. He smiles sweetly, displaying extremely white even teeth, asking, "Is there anything wrong, sir?" I go, "Huh? Wha... no, no... ha ha, it's just you got here so quickly, that's all. That's great... um, ah, this way", and I stupidly lead him to the balcony, as if he wouldn't know where it is on his own. Duh! Why do I do such dumb things? He tells me, "Thank you," for some reason, then unlocks the sliding door and lifts the bucket over onto the balcony; then, smiling at me he slides the door shut leaving me standing there with my hand on my crouch. I yell to myself, in my head.. "You almost had a suicide on your hands and you're already thinking with your dick! What's wrong with you?!"

In a stupor I pick up the washcloth and take it to the bathroom to rinse out, then go back to my useless attempt to clean the vomit off Willie. The room's beginning to smells bad, which is primarily why I'm taking the trouble to do this. As I dab at the vomit I'm royally pissed-off at Willie, and tell myself if the smell wasn't so bad I'd leave him covered in this shit. But god, he almost killed himself; a thought too grotesque to contemplate! Looking at his face though, I think I'm feeling more sorry for him than I'm pissed-off at him; what an unsettling combination of emotions that is. Ya know, apparently having money isn't always the answer to happiness. Willie's had plenty of it and I've never seen anyone as distraught or anyone who hated his life as much as Willie claims he did a while ago. Now I'm trying to imagine if no one came to see me graduate from high school, and it's basically unimaginable; but no one in Willie's world was interested enough in him to come to his graduation. That's so sad it's pathetic. I guess he's been going through a rough time of it for months; and maybe his whole life has been empty of love which is why he searches for it so energetically, and why he talks about love so much. Yeah, I feel bad for him. What kind of parents treat a kid the way Willie's been treated, and I'm not talking about just the college thing or the graduation thing; I mean, he's been ignored by his parents all his life. Are they soulless people with some kind of disorder involving strong narcissistic tendencies... or, in other words, they don't give a shit about anybody else but themselves. A lifetime of unbridled narcissism is no way to go through life, especially if you drive your only child to suicide in the process! Duh! A brilliant deduction...

Giving up on cleaning the gook off Willie, I take a peek at Pedro who's conscientiously swabbing the entire balcony, rinsing out his big mop and then going at it again. It looks like this is the second time he's mopped the floor because the places he's mopping now are already wet. God, he's a cute kid. I wonder what his story is? I mean, how do you become a janitor at such an early age? This isn't summertime, so it's not a summer job. He's a hard worker alright. Pedro's looking at the floor of the balcony, apparently scrutinizing his work. Oh wow, he's going over an area near the railing again, and what a hot ass that boy has! Dammit, there I go again. Jeez, keep your mind on what your main problem is right now, suicidal Willie. Pedro's apparently finally satisfied with the clean-up and he pulls open the sliding door as I quickly pretend I'm not staring at him by fumbling in my pocket for something, and that makes me think that I should tip him. Willie's wallet's on the desk so I go over to it as Pedro lifts the bucket over the balcony's threshold, saying, "Mr. Worthington, I need to get a clean bucket of water to rinse the balcony floor, and I'll also bring a cleaner for the chairs out there too; the rain earlier made a mess of them." I hadn't noticed anything wrong with them earlier, but mumble, "Oh, um, okay, if you think..." and leave it at because Pedro's staring at me with those big, beautiful eyes and I'm temporarily captured by them. He sees I'm not going to finish my sentence, so he says, "Yes, sir... I'll be right back," and begins rolling the bucket through the suite. Before he's out the door, I grab Willie's wallet and pull out the first bill I touch, a fifty dollar bill, "Here, let me give you something 'cause you're doing an excellent job," and I stick the bill in his side pocket, getting a thrill in the process. He leans in against my fingers for the brief second they're in there, smiling at me, saying, "Oh, you don't need to..." but I go, "Yes, you deserve it." He looks shy, his head down, muttering, "Thank you so much!" Then he hesitates before looking up, to add, "You're very good looking, Mr. Worthington," which leaves me speechless, and I just stare stupidly at him, wishing I could think of something to say a little bit quicker, but he continues out the door and just before the door closes, I blurt out, "Thank you, and you are too, Pedro," but I'm not sure he heard the last part.

I stare at the closed door for a second, my head in a fog. Curious thing for him to say! Then, shaking my head to clear it, I mumble out loud, "Focus, ya moron, he's just a polite kid who's grateful for a tip; you've got other things to think about!" Yeah, but wait'll he sees it's a fifty dollar bill... ha! That thought makes me feel good, imagining how excited he'll be. It's Willie's money and, it should be his money; he caused this mess. Then I think about Willie again and all my emotions are sympathetic ones; poor Willie, his world's gone to shit. Grabbing a pillow from the bedroom, I go over to Willie and lift his head to slip the pillow under it. He's snoring quietly, more wheezing than snoring, but unfortunately still stinking of vomit... yuck! I'm looking at the balcony floor when a quiet knock announces Pedro's return. The floor looks clean as it is, no smell outside except the Lysol. When I open the door Pedro's there with a clean bucket of water and a new mop. He's holding out his hand with the fifty dollar bill in it, saying, "This is too much, Mr. Worthington, I don't feel right keeping it. This is my job and..." I interrupt, saying, "You deserve it, Pedro, and," pointing over at Willie, "That's Mr. Worthington, Willie actually; I'm Dylan, Dylan Newman... please call me Dylan," and I close my hand on his hand, the one that's holding the money, adding, "You keep this; it's from him... he'd want you to have it." His hand is thin and soft; soft even though he has a hard job. Keeping his hand held out for me to hold, he blushes, and again mumbles, "Thank you so much." When I realize I've been holding his hand for about fifteen seconds I let go, gasping, "You, ah, I mean, your welcome."

He smiles his killer smile as he puts the money back in his pocket, then looks at me with a questioning expression until I realize I'm blocking his way and step aside so he can roll the bucket back to the balcony. This time he leaves the sliding door open as he swabs the balcony floor with the clean water, and I hear him quietly singing as he works. He's singing a hymn of some sort, with his pure boyish voice. He sings:

"There's a family Bible on the table,

each page is torn and hard to read,

but this Bible on the table is my key to memories.

At the day's end when work is over and the family meal is done,

Dad will read to us from the family Bible,

as we count our blessings one by one,

I see us sitting round the table as he reads and I

can here my mother softly singing rock of ages, cleft for me.

This world is full of trouble and would better be

if we'd find more Bibles on the table, and more mothers

singing rock of ages, cleft for me."

Corny I guess, but it's spellbindingly beautiful the way he's singing it; sorta country sounding, but very hymn-like too. He sings it softly a couple of times as he swabs the floor and then sprays the chairs with a cleaner, wiping each chair meticulously clean. The whole thing is captivating to me and for some reason it makes me feel feel like crying, but I don't. It's all so poignant coming from him somehow. I have the strongest urge to hug him and give him another fifty dollar tip, but I'm pretty sure he wouldn't accept either very well. Done with the cleaning, he lifts the bucket into the room again, looking right in my eyes while smiling his wonderful smile; then he breaks eye contact and rolls the bucket outside the door. Still speechless, I watch his every move, and when he turns at the door he catches me staring at him, and he stares right back at me for a few seconds with his eyebrows raised, like he's inviting me to say or do something. When I'm still mute after a second or two, he asks, "Can I help you get Mr. Willie Worthington into the shower, he's quite odoriferous, isn't he?" Odoriferous? Never expected a word like that from a janitor, especially one as young as Pedro. Taken aback, I go, "Um, would you?" He nods his head and situates the bucket and mop against the wall outside the door, then comes right back in, saying, "It'd be my pleasure to help you, Dylan Newman." I'd only mumbled our names one time, so it surprises me he remembers them. I'm impressed and enthralled with this boy, totally enthralled... and mystified too. Pedro goes right over to Willie and stands at his head, then looks at me and holds his nose, going, "Phew!" which seems out of character for him, as does his little infectious laugh that follows that unexpected comment. Still, it causes a big smile and a chuckle from me. Then he reaches down to take hold of Willie under each arm, asking, "Can you get his feet? We'll carry him into the bathroom." Taking hold of Willie's feet, Pedro lifts Willie off the floor, carry most of the dead weight, and I lead the way to the bathroom walking backwards carry Willie's legs. As we go I think about the term, "dead weight", which is what Willie is at the moment, and shutter at the thought of what might have been.

We set Willie down on a white, cushy bathroom throw rug, and Pedro asks, "Guess we need to undress him, huh?" I shrug, blowing out my cheeks, and do a nod of my head, saying, "Maybe it's best if we get him in the shower first; there's plenty of room in there and he's easier to carry with his clothes on." When we're standing in the shower, Willie on the shower's tile floor, we sort of hesitate because it's all of a sudden an awkward situation; then Pedro says, "Did you know there are a lot of gays in Key West, Dylan Newman?" I certainly wasn't expecting that question and look over to see Pedro staring at me with those big eyes of his again. After doing a fake cough into my fist, I mutter, "Yeah, I heard something like that, um... sometime or other. Why do you ask?" He points at my neck, saying, "Well, you have a fresh hickey, and... I don't know, I wondered if you..." Clearing my throat, as I unconsciously reach up to rub my hickey, I look away for a second, then frown, and go, "Yeah, Willie and I are gay, but you're safe with me Pedro. If you're uncomfortable helping me undress him, that's okay; you've already been a tremendous help getting Willie over here. I can manage the rest myself.

More awkwardness for me, but apparently not for Pedro. He has no comment about Willie and me being gay; instead he grins, saying, "How would you get him back to the bed by yourself? And anyway, I'm not uncomfortable undressing him, and I'm not uncomfortable that you're gay. I live with my momma and daddy and seven brothers in a three bedroom house; me and my brothers sleep four to a bedroom. I've seen plenty of gays at the resort, and plenty of naked boys all my life at home." I assume he's referring to naked brothers mostly, but who knows? I mutter, "Four to a bedroom? Must be big bedrooms, huh?" and he shrugs, saying, "No, not really. Two double beds in each, right next to each other. It something we grew-up with and we don't give it a second thought. My brothers are awesome; the two older ones work here at the resort, one you'll see at the beach tomorrow, if you go to the beach... his name is Dominic. He's a beach boy, and the other, the oldest of all of us, is a bellhop. My father's the head bellhop and mama works in the kitchen."

Jeez, it's all kinda touching... the way he's almost is bragging, obviously proud of his family working in the service industry; it makes me think back to the hymn he was singing earlier, and I ask, "That hymn you were singing on the balcony; is that, ah, what you and your family do? Sit around after dinner and count your blessings?"He laughs, "Only after Sunday dinner, and it probably sounds sappy, but it's our tradition. The song's from Willie Nelson; do you know who he is?" I go, "Um, I think he's a country singer, right?" Pedro makes a funny face, like he's surprised I knew who Willie Nelson is, as he nods his head that I'm correct. "Shall we get this boy naked?" I ask, and Pedro goes, "Yes, sir!" I'll bet Pedro's daddy and mamma brought all eight kids up to be as polite as Pedro is. As I'm unbuckling Willie's big goofy belt buckle, I ask, "What about your other five brothers, what do they do?" Pedro pulls off Willie's t-shirt, being careful not to bounce Willie's head on the tile floor, explaining, "They're all still in school; youngest is in middle school." I go, "Huh!" as off comes Willie's shorts; one sandal came off when Willie's dove over the balcony railing, and the other came off when I dragged him into the living room, so his feet are bare, which leaves only his jockey shorts. Pedro and I stare at the jockey shorts for a second, then look up at each before I reach over and slip the underwear off, half expecting some kind of comment from Pedro about Willie's eight inch dick, but he says nothing about that: instead he mutters, "I better slip out of these overalls if I don't want to get them wet in the shower, which I don't, ha ha."

Kicking off his sneakers, then pulling off his socks, Pedro slips out of the housekeeping one-piece uniform and folds it neatly before placing it on the toilet seat. He too wears jockey shorts, which are the only thing preventing him from being totally naked and, oh my God, what a perfect slim, smooth, taut body. That fair-skinned creamy, almost tan, skin of his is something very special. Except for small tufts of dark hair peeking out from under his arms, he's hairless; well, I can't see his pubic area, but this boy is hairless except for that probable exception, and the beautiful hair on his head of course. Talk about a huggable body, and with that face of his too, and that gorgeous head of hair... give me a break here! Forcing myself to look away, I nod at the numerous shower heads, mumbling, "Can you adjust it so only the overhead one is working? That way we can stay out from under most of the spray as we're washing him." As Pedro does that I stare at the unconscious Willie, noticing that his dick isn't actually eight inches now; seven inches might even be a stretch, but when erect it is fully eight inches. The water comes on overhead and I step back, although I really don't care if I get wet or not; I was mostly thinking about Pedro who's still suppose to be working. I ask, "Ah, Pedro... are you gonna get in trouble taking all this time with me and, um, Willie here?" He's squeezing shampoo into his hand, going, "No, Dylan; we're told to take all the time necessary to make the guest happy," and he looks up grinning, to add, "And, this is kinda fun," as he spreads the shampoo over Willie's hair. Hmmm?

Well, here goes... I grab a wash cloth and pour on some bath gel to begin at Willie's feet and work my way up. The water pretty much covers his whole body so Pedro and I are getting wet even with only the one shower head in action. I'm up to Willie's thighs and Pedro's using a handheld shower head to rinse out the shampoo... then Willie starts peeing. Jumping back, I go, "Watch it; he's taking a drunken whiz in his sleep," as pee pours out in a steady steam. This gets Pedro laughing, "I washed some of my brothers when they were babies and they did the same thing, ha ha ha. But they didn't use a fire hose like Willie Worthington; this boy has himself a world-class penis going for him." Ah ha, so Pedro did notice, but how could you help but notice. I force a chuckle, feeling odd about the chuckle, what with Willie recently trying to kill himself and all. I wish he'd wake up and babble or something; it's unnerving seeing him so out-of-it like this. Pedro uses the hand-held shower head to direct the pee to the drain, but it's quite a long piss and Pedro has a case of the giggles before Willie's done with it. That boy's a walking contradiction; Pedro, I mean. Well, I guess growing up like Pedro did, in close quarters with all those brothers gives him quite a different outlook on something like this. Certainly different than mine, beings I basically never had a brother. Chubby and I are close and had baths together as kids, but we never lived together and later in life it was a special treat for me to even spend a night sleeping with him. Pedro shares his bed basically with three brothers every night considering the two beds are side by side; lucky him, actually.

We finish bathing poor Willie, meeting at his belly button, so I got to was his cock and balls, which is unfortunate because I'd like to have seen how Pedro handled that. Putting a clean wash cloth under the side of Willie's face, we gently turn him over and I wash the backs of Willie's legs, going purposely slowly so that Pedro gets to wash his ass, which he does without comment. Willie has a great ass, as does Pedro in his now wet jockey shorts, but that's neither here nor there, or shouldn't be at this time; but still, that is a hot ass! We both use hand-held shower heads now rinsing Willie's back, then turn him over again to do the same for his front; a second rinsing for his front. "All done," Pedro says, and I go, "Nice job, dude!" He beams, mumbling, "Thanks, you too," and then I think about Willie throwing up, and say, "Wait a minute,Pedro," and leave the shower to get Willie's toothbrush and put on lots of toothpaste, then return, saying, "Let me try to brush his teeth or he'll be throwing up in the morning from the taste in his mouth." Pedro says, "You're a good friend, Dylan Newman." I pull on Willie's chin and his mouth flops open so I can brush his teeth, gums and tongue. Then we shoot the handheld shower head spray into his mouth rinsing out the tooth paste causing Willie's involuntary reflexes to bring on a cough or two. "That's the best we can do with that, Pedro." Struggling to get Willie up now, with Pedro doing the heavier lifting and me at the feet again, we carry him out of the shower and lay him on the same cushy bathroom throw rug as before. We both take fluffy, thick bathroom towels and dry the sleeping Willie, who finally does say something; he says, "Nah, otta real," and goes back to sleep. It's a relief hearing anything from him, and it makes me feel better. Pedro looks up at me, asking, "What'd he say?" I shrug, standing up, mumbling, "No idea, but I'm glad to hear something from him." Nodding in agreement, Pedro stands up too, and spreads his arms, saying, "I think we got a little wet after all," and he laughs that easy laugh of his. I notice, for the first time, the outline of his cock through the wet jockey shorts, then gaze up at his shiny wet body, arms spread; what a picture! Gulping, I go, "Here, let me dry your hair," and he leans his head over, saying, "Thanks." I guess he's used to stuff like this; you know, living with all those brothers. I mean, how many bathrooms can a three bedroom house have?

I grab a dry towel and vigorously rub his long hair as he holds onto me with a hand on each of my hips to steady himself. Thank God I'm wearing these swimming shorts made of a thicker material than normal bathing suits or my stiffening dick would be obvious. With his hair still damp, he straightens-up, so I turn the towel over and dry his shoulders, then his chest and back. When I'm near his belly button, he says, "Thanks, Dylan, I can do my legs." Doing a fake cough, I stand back mumbling, "Sure thing," as I'm handing him the towel and grabbing another one to dry myself with. Taking quiet, deep breaths, I dry myself somewhat, wondering about Pedro's wet underpants. Then say, "Ah, would you consider borrowing a pair of my clean boxer shorts?" and he goes, "You wear boxers?" as if that's the most noteworthy point in this situation. I mumble, "Sometimes I wear jockey shorts, but I just brought boxers with me on the trip." He takes the hairdryer now, saying, "Sure, I'll wash them and return them to you tomorrow," and he turns the dryer on to finish drying his hair, drowning out any reply from me, so I go to my suitcase and get the newest pair of boxers I own for Pedro. Anyway, I'm glad he turned the hairdryer on because I was gonna say, 'No, you can keep them," but on second thought he might think I don't want them back because he wore them, so thankfully I didn't make that blunder. Done with the hair drying, Pedro picks up my brush from the vanity and begins brushing his hair. Without thinking, I take it from him and brush his hair myself, and he has no complaints, just a quiet, "Thanks, that's nice."

It surprises me he didn't protest, while at the same time I'm shaking my head wondering what made me do that... it's so gay, but then I already told him I'm gay so maybe that's why he feels it's okay. Or, maybe he and his brothers groom each other routinely... who knows with a set-up like they're in? His hair is awesome: beautiful, full, and long, but not over his collar or over his ears. It's curly at the ends and I can resist running my fingers through it, mumbling, "Just checking for tangles." He says, "That feels good," so I massage his scalp marveling at the perfect shape of his head. Earlier in the trip I was lamenting the lack of cute boys; well, here is a true gem, making-up for all my earlier disappointments. Still, this is awful gay, so I say, "Hope you don't think I'm too gay doing this, but back home I'm kinda the barber for the guys I hang out with, so... ya know, it's not just a gay thing. He says, "I don't mind at all, actually, I'm gay too, although I'm in the closet... deep, deep in the closet." I stop brushing and look at his face as it reflects back from the mirror, and with a grin to show I'm only half serious, I ask, "Really? You're not punking me about that, are ya? Teasing me?" He shrugs, saying, "No, I'm gay for real, and it took me all this time to work up the nerve to say those words; you're the first person I've ever said them to. Never even confided in my favorite brother, and we're uber tight. Of course, I've never been with another boy, not like, you know... like a gay boy, but I have constant cravings, that's for sure," and he laughs nervously at that. What the...?"

As I stand here stupefied at his confession, he adds, "Not that I'm propositioning you; please don't think that." I go, "Oh, no!" as I'm recognizing the fact that this is the second time on this trip that a cute boy has told me something he's never told anyone else; first Sandy tells me his guilt about Jersey boy and now Pedro tells me he's secretly gay... wow! What's up with that? I sure don't know, but I feel proud about it just the same. Pedro, the ultra conscientious kid; the one who sings hymns while he works and counts his blessings after Sunday dinner, comes right out with this, totally unexpected; although there were the looks he's given me from the very beginning. Plus, another thing: his vocabulary. It isn't what I'm expecting at all either. To change the subject for a minute, so that Pedro doesn't think I'm going to pursue the gay thing exclusively, I ask, "How old are you anyway, if you don't mind me asking?" He reaches over to his uniform and picks-up his ID badge, saying, "I'm twenty years old as of a couple of months ago, but still a virgin I'm sorry to say." Shocked that he's twenty years old, I'm squinting at the small printing under his picture and see that he's six months older than me. What the...? I don't know what to say; I'm startled that he's older than me, but don't want to insult him, so I ask, "Um, do you go to school? I mean, in addition to working here..."

We're standing over the inert Willie, but he's forgotten for the moment. Pedro says, "Oh yes, I'm studying with Barry University, which is located here in Key West. I've been enrolled in their online degree program for two years now, studying for a teacher's degree, specifically to teach English, but I actually want to be a writer; that is, an author. I've had one of my short stories published in a local magazine already; they paid me only twenty-five dollars for it, but it was a thrill being published at all." I'm dumbfounded again, and mutter, "Uh huh, that's awesome, Pedro," but it comes out sounding like a question, and he chuckles, then punches my arm lightly, saying, "It is, isn't it?" I nod and smile at him, then say, "Yes, it is! What was the story about?" He goes, "What do ya think? It was about a gay boy in the closet living in Key West," and he laughs at that, so I chuckle along with him. This kid is absolutely amazing. I'm not sure what to say now, but Pedro comes to the rescue, "Should we get Willie Worthington to bed, ya think?" I smile at him for always referring to Willie by his whole name, then say, "Let's do it," and with me getting under Willie's arms this time and Pedro holding his legs we get Willie onto the bed. Then I pull back the covers on one side and we pull him over to that side and slide the covers up to his chin without any complaints or comments from Willie. He's shiny clean, sleeping off a living nightmare; hope he's not having one in his sleep.

Taking a deep breath of relief that Willie's taken care of, and not seeing how I can extend Pedro's visit, I point to the bathroom, where I left the boxer shorts for Pedro, and mumble, "The dry boxer shorts are with your uniform, so if..." but he interrupts, "Um, feel my heart beat," as he takes my wrist and brings my hand to his chest. His heart's beating a mile a minute. Looking at him with a questioning expression on my face, he says, "I've never been this nervous about anything 'cause I've ever asked anyone before, but...," and he stops to look away, then back to look into my eyes, asking, "Would you take my virginity, please?" and before I can say anything in my startled condition, he adds, "Please don't think I'm horrible for asking you, but you're so nice and I've been longing, fantasizing, about it for a couple of years, but haven't found anyone I want, you know, to do it with." Oh boy, I should be thrilled, but I don't know... like I said, he's so innocent and his family reads the Bible after Sunday dinner as Pedro and his brothers count their blessings, one by one. And Willie's laying right here in bed too... I glance over at him for a second, causing Pedro to say, "I understand if you don't want to cheat behind your boyfriend's back... you're right, I should never have put you on the spot like this," and his angelic face is blushing like crazy now. It's too much to resist and I find myself hugging him to me, as I ramble, "Oh, Pedro, I'd be honored; it'd be a privilege and Willie's not my boyfriend, I mean not now, he used to be, but then Robby and I and..." taking a breath, I stop the rambling, and simply say, "In the bathroom, okay?"

He's snuggling in against me making my dick quiver. The only parts of us still wet are his jockey shorts and my swimming shorts, and thank God for that or I'd have a raging boner just feeling Pedro's velvet skin. One of my hands is grasping a fistful of his soft dense hair at the back of his head and my other arm is around his back rubbing over his tight skin. His stomach and chest are taut and muscular against me, and the strength in his thin arms as they grip me surprises me. There's a wonderful essence coming off him; extremely boyish and clean and, all in all, he's one luscious armful. Short of breath, he pulls his head away a little to look in my eyes, asking, "You mean, you will?" I kiss his cheek quickly, saying, "Yes, it's so nice of you to trust me to do this; it makes me feel good, and I feel honored you trust me to do this." He looks happy, excited, as he says, with his fresh breath in my face, "There was this one boy in my eleventh grade homeroom, Tom O'Ryan... he and I, um, used to make-out at his house after school. We did it for a month or so, but never took it any further. One day he wouldn't do it anymore; he said he wasn't a fag like me, but do you think you and I could, you know, do that?" I put my lips on his and he closed his eyes moaning, "Mmmmm," as I did some light sucking and wet kisses; then push my tongue between his lips to run along his teeth and across his gum, above the front ones. Another quiet moan and he opened his mouth for us to French kiss. He's good at it too, and my wet dick does begin to bone up now. He's delicious!

Sucking his tongue, then his upper lip, then licking his tongue as his body melds into mine completely, and now I feel his hard cock rubbing against mine; both pointing up. Pedro is into this as much as I am; as much as the sexiest boys I've ever made-out with ever got into it... awesome make-out partner, just wonderful and we do it until he pulls his mouth away slightly and slide his tongue across my cheek until the sides of our faces are tight together. I hear his heavy breathing and feel his chest heaving with his heart beating fast against my chest. After a few seconds, he says quietly, "I almost cam in my shorts." I rub his back with both hands, still amazed at the smoothness and the wonderful feel of him. He asks, "Can we go in the bathroom now?" Stealing a glance at Willie, who's back to quietly, not-quite snoring, making mostly deep sleep breathing sounds, I say, "Sure, Pedro." He's still holding on to me so we stand there for a second... he says, "You feel awesome, Dylan Newman. I love your body and you smell sexy too," then he gives me an unsure look, as if he's afraid he said too much, so I go, "You too, Pedro, and thanks for the compliments." I still can't believe he's twenty years old; I mean, I believe him and all that, but he has a very youthful look about him... like I said earlier, so innocent and, well, sweet,actually. We walk to the bathroom with my arm around his neck and his arm around my waist. I take a peek at his jockey shorts, and his boner's still pointing up... mine too.

Closing the bathroom door, and clicking the lock, I ask, "Do you have, um... you know, a position in mind?" He eagerly replies, "Oh yes. It's my favorite video on gaydar where two boys do it in the bathroom, just like this, standing up. Well, one boy, who's the bottom, winds up leaning over to hold onto the sink and that's my favorite fantasy way... I fantasize me and Ronny doing it like that." Wha..? I ask, "Who's Ronny?" and Pedro explains that he's a gay boy who just started as a busboy. Pedro is too shy to make the first move because he's totally unexperienced, but maybe... and I guess he means maybe if he, Pedro, isn't a virgin anymore, he'll have more confidence with Ronny. By now I'm too randy to try convincing Pedro to ask Ronny to be his first, and something tells me, well a lot of things tell me, that Pedro has his mind set on him and me fucking. Pedro and me, and I'm not going to let him down. I think to myself that maybe that sounds self serving, but I believe it in my heart that that's what Pedro has his heart set-on, so I'm going with my gut feeling. "For your first time we should definitely have a lubricant, Pedro, and I don't know where Willie put ours." We're now standing in the bathroom unattached, so ta speak, and Pedro says, "How 'bout this?" and pulls a small tube of creamy Vaseline from the assortment of toiletries provided by the hotel. Well, it's not the Vaseline brand name, but it's the same stuff, so I go, "Ah! Just the thing," and start taking my pants off, but Pedro says, "In the video the boys do it with their underwear on. I mean, they pull it down to their legs, but leave it on... that's sorta my fantasy. Is that okay?" We settle on me taking off my wet cargo shorts so that we'll both have just our underwear on; me my boxers and Pedro his wet jockey shorts. Pedro says, "I'm sorry, but you need to do the rest 'cause I'm depending on you. A video is one thing... this is the real thing, and I have no experience at all. Is that okay?" His voice is shaky and I'm hoping it's because he's excited, not because he's scared, but it's probably both. Also, he may be leaning towards the submissive side, which I certainly can relate too. It wouldn't surprise me if he is submissive, now that I think about it. Such an unusually sweet kid; this Ronny kid is lucky that Pedro's crushing on him. I wrap Pedro up in my arms, his back to me, his arms under mine at his side; he sighs and leans his head back against my shoulder. Kissing the back of his neck the curly ends of his hair tickle my nose, I inhale quietly and he does smell wonderful. After a little of this hugging and cuddling he shivers, going, "Mmmmm, you feel so sexy against me. Do you think you can give me a hickey like the one you have? Maybe Ronny will notice it and say something to me... something to start us talking." Jeez, can I believe this?

Saying, "I'd love to give you a hickey;" and then that's what I do, but I stop before the stinging stage begins so Pedro's hickey's not as noticeable as mine, although it is still very obvious... no one in the know will think it's anything else but a hickey. While kissing, licking and sucking on his neck, Pedro becomes very relaxed, totally docile, leaning back against me to such a degree he'd fall over if I stepped back. It's been less than two hours between the horrendous nightmare of Willie trying to kill himself, and this absolutely beautiful experience with Pedro; what an enormous trick of fate... one that's impossible to imagine, yet here it is... life is very hard to fathom; my life is, at least. Done with the hickey for now, I rub my nose gently in the longish hair at the back of his head and try to remember any boy I'm acquainted with that has hair more beautiful than Pedro's. Mmmm, the side of his face is as smooth and tight as a fourteen year old boy. Craning my head around to see his profile, I can see that his eyes are lightly closed, his fine, long, dark eyelashes curl up perfectly and there's not a single blemish on his face except for a small round beauty mark at his cheek bone. Looking closely I can just make out the beginnings of soft peach fuzz on his upper lip, but that's it for facial hair. I kiss his cheek murmuring, "What a nice body you have for hugging, Pedro." He sighs again and nods his head slightly, apparently unwilling to break the spell he's in by speaking. My hands travel lightly over his chest, rubbing his small nipples, then up to caress the front of his neck, and then cupping his chin to move his face to the side so I can reach his lips with mine. I kiss him briefly, then push the tip of my tongue between his lips and lick his teeth, like earlier. He strains his head to the side as much as he can and opens his mouth, pushing out his tongue and we lick tongues before doing a sideways French kiss. He's pushing his two mounds of awesome buttocks back and up against my boner, as squeaking sounds escape his throat. Still almost whispering, I ask, "You doing okay, Pedro? Everything okay?" and he nods his head that little bit again, but this time also moans, "Uh huh," then another very low moan, and he adds, "I think I'm going to cum though." I rub the side of my face against his and kiss near his ear, quietly saying, "That's fine, don't hold back... you'll be able to cum again soon enough," and my hands once more travel lightly over his chest, then down to his belly with my fingers going under the wet waistband of his jockey shorts, bumping into the wet head of his cock causing Pedro to grunt and bump his ass against my crotch firmly. His body gets taut as he goes up on his toes, his head hard against my shoulder; then he's flatfooted again with another sigh, "Oooooh". With the fingers of both hands I drag the front of his underwear down to connect under his nuts; his boner drops down to stick straight out from his belly. My hands caress around his cock and balls ruffing through a small pubic patch of soft hair and then I wrap my fist around his cock and he does a series of, "Oh oh oh oooh!" sounds.

It feels to me like he has about five inches of boner, a real nice hard handful. Stroking it once makes Pedro go up on his toes again leaning back into me even more then before, moving the back of his head from side to side, as he goes, "Ahh, nah, ohh ohh!" I kiss, then lick the back of his neck and stroke his cock three full-length strokes pulling his uncut foreskin on and off the head with precum dripping on my hand. Pedro goes, "Ahhh, whooooa!" humping his hips forward as a sharp thin stream of spunk flies from his cock in a straight line, splashing against the vanity. It's followed by three fast, shorter strings of cum that fall to the floor before making it to the vanity, and then I milk out globs of creamy cum that drool over my fist as Pedro's making gasp sounds and incoherent mutterings thrusting his hips forward with each shot of cum. Now, only drools of cum bubble at his pee slit and his hand comes over to cover mine, increasing the speed of my strokes on his cock. Then he's back down off his toes as he relaxes against me once more, his head lulling back on my shoulder with the hairs so soft against my cheek. I let go of his cock and he lets go of my hand, as he asks, "Can we still do the other thing?" I kiss him on the side of his face again, and say, "Absolutely," then turn him around and get my arms around his neck; he melds into me with his arms going around my waist. Wow, this boy is awesome at cuddling. I've got an aching boner, but this is about Pedro much more than it's about me, so for now I endure the blue-balls feeling while enjoying the feel of Pedro... it's an even trade off. After a bit I ask, "Do you wanna relax for a second... take a break." He mumbles into my shoulder, "I'm relaxed now, I've never been in another guy's arms before, it's the best feeling ever. Your body is fantastic and I can't get enough of it." I mutter, "Oh man, thanks... yours too." So, we stay like this awhile, me rocking us slightly from side to side, and it seems as though Pedro's found a home in my arms. That's fine with me 'cause he feels and smells almost indescribably good; different than Robby or Chubby or Willie; not necessarily better, but pretty much just as good. Of course, I have a tendency to exaggerate how special someone is when I'm with them, but Pedro's pretty damn special whether I'm exaggerated it, or not.

This is really nice, but I'd like a cigarette, and to take a little break so my balls can calm down. Don't want to rain on Pedro's parade though, so I hedge a little as we stand here hugging, "Um, Pedro, you sure you won't get into trouble taking all this time away from the job?" He pulls his head away from my shoulder to look me in the eyes, saying, "Well, no, I won't get in trouble; I'm off duty. When I said us guys in housekeeping are suppose to stay with guest until the guest are satisfied, that's true, but my shift was over by the time I swabbed your balcony. Your fifty dollar tip was so generous though, I felt I should offer to help with your friend's shower. I guess I wasn't sure if I'd go through with asking you to... you know, do this, so I didn't make it clear that I was finished my shift. Sorry if I mislead you." I go, "No, no, no... that's fine; that's making be feel more relaxed; I was worried you'd get in trouble, that's all. Would you come with me to the balcony now, so I can smoke a cigarette?" He says, "Okay, but smoking's bad for you!" I go, "Yeah, I heard that somewhere before; how 'bout it though? We can check on Willie too." He nods his head that its okay, and that's what we do. Willie's sleeping soundly; now on his side, hugging a pillow. On the balcony Pedro and I stand at the front railing where Willie went over, and I smoke thinking about that terrible experience, while gazing out at the ocean with the moonlight shining off of it; beautiful night. Pedro breaks into my thoughts by quietly saying, "That thing we did together in the bathroom, it was the highlight of my life so far; it was like a dream come true for me." Of course, Pedro doesn't know about Willie's suicide attempt and so I need to make an extra effort not to seem as upset as I feel right now; best to think about Pedro anyway... that's a very pleasant thing to do, and why dwell on the past anyway. Thinking about Pedro is a nice counterbalance. For conversation, I ask Pedro when he first realized his gayness and he tells me it was as soon as he entered puberty and he got a big crush on one of his brothers, not understanding why his overly affection way with him wasn't reciprocated, but when his brother called him a fag, half jokingly, a light went on in Pedro's head and he started contemplating the possibility that he was gay.

Once Pedro starts talking about it, he apparently couldn't stop and he told me of embarrassing experiences he had as a young teen who thought maybe he was the only gay teen in his school. Boys that age rarely admit to being gay even to themselves, never mind to anybody else. As far as he can tell, none of his seven brothers has any inclination toward gayness, and it's made him feel alone, which led to him being shy, which led to his brothers being protective of him, which led to him having even more affectionate feelings toward them, and because he couldn't demonstrate that affection, he built up a sexual frustration without an outlet. He's also very concerned what his brothers and his parents will think of him when they find out he's gay. His is a religious family, which often complicates things involving a gay child, although I'd have thought the opposite should be the case. Smoking two cigarettes, I gave my full attention to him while Pedro tells me things he'd never said out-loud to another human being, and I again think of Sandy's confession to me on the plane about Jersey boy. He'd never voiced his feelings about that to anybody else either; so once more I wondered... why me, while at the same time being proud that they both chose me to hear their secret thoughts. For Pedro, I did my best to philosophize how people that love him, especially his family, will still love him even though he's gay. And other stuff too; like, they'll theoretically be his best support system, and how he shouldn't feel rushed to come "out" until he's ready. Although I don't think I did much in the way of convincing him about his family's support, he seemed encouraged. Obviously I don't know his family, but I know a little about Pedro and I can't imagine they'd turn on him because he's gay. I refuse to believe that, and I think that even though I'm aware of the uncaring way Willie's parents treated him.

We talked for almost an hour, and then, "You want to go back to the bathroom, Pedro?" He looked happy about that, looked happy for the first time since he started talking about his worries concerning his family accepting his gayness. Walking through the bedroom we see Willie still deeply asleep, so I'm feeling good about that. Pedro walks with his side touching mine the whole way, and inside I clicked the lock on the door, just in case, and asked Pedro, "Where's the tube from the toiletries basket?" He lifts his hand, still clutching the small tube, making me smile, he had it the whole time. I wrap my hand around his, saying, "Ah, there it is." The bright expression on his face is irresistible and I hug him to me, he's so adorable it's sick! Meaning, beyond wonderful. His face comes up so our lips kiss again; Pedro's a boy after my own heart; it's obvious he loves making out. I do subtle humps into his crotch and soon we're rubbing our dicks together through our underwear and they do what they do when sexually aroused, which is absorb a lot of erectile fluids, and get bone hard. Our boners squeeze between our bellies, extending past the waistbands of our shorts, and we grind our hips helping to finish the growth of our cocks to their maximum girth and length; then, when a few drops of precum from the head of each boner wets my stomach, I know for sure we're ready. Gently pulling my mouth from Pedro's, and then taking a deep breath, I lean my head to the side and suck on his hickey until he starts squirming against me, then lift my head to quietly say in his ear, "It's time for the slippery stuff in the tube, Pedro. Do you want to put some on my dick?" He's gasping for air, so when he tries to say something it comes out in a hiss, but after taking some deep breaths, he says, "Yes," and we back away from each other a little. His boner, once again, is sticking straight out from his modest pubic patch, dripping, while mine is still pointing straight up, and very hard. It gets a tiny bit harder when Pedro squeezes too much lube into his hand and encircles my boner with his rather delicate fist to stroke the full length of my cock a few times. I make a breezy sound through my lips, then "Ohh, ahh..." as he asks, "Is this okay?" looking into my eyes. I nod, mumbling, "Perfect," and he adds, "You have a really nice penis, Dylan Newman" as I take the tube to squeeze some on my finger, saying, "Thank you, so do you; could you turn around now, Pedro?" He does, facing the sink, like in his fantasy, and I spread some lube on his anus. Back and forth, back and forth my finger goes rubbing the lips of his hole; then, around and around until I slip my finger inside him, and he goes, "Ah! It feels so good!" I finger fuck him a bit, saying, "It's just my finger," and he says, "Oh, well it feels good anyway." I see him blushing from his reflection in the mirror, so I think he thought it was my boner, which makes me grin behind him. I pull down and then sideways on his hole before sliding a second finger in: it quite tight and Pedro tries to muffle a groan of protest, but his anus adjust quickly to the intrusion and he relaxes again. Taking my fingers out of him, I wipe them on a towel, then grip his hips saying, "I don't have condoms, but you should always, in the future use one when doing this with strangers. We've got to know each other a little, and it's been my pleasure and enhanced my life. I mean that sincerely. I'm not a danger to you as far as AIDS or any other thing, but don't ever trust any one else. Okay, promise me?" He's ultra sincere, saying, "I'm the one's who's life has been enhanced by Dylan Newman, and thank you for your advice, I promise to follow it." I mutter, "Thank you," then,"Ready, Pedro?" He lifts his bum a little, saying, "Oh yes, I can't wait..." and the head of my boner presses against his anus spreading the lips of his anus, as I watch for any sign of pain on his face in his reflection in the mirror over the sink. So far he's maintaining an expression of excited anticipation so, with a small hump of my hips, I slip the head of my cock inside him and repress a sound of pleasure myself.

At penetration, with me clamping my teeth together not to moan, Pedro exclaims, "Umph! Ohhh...," and then as I push in a little further he leans forward and grabs the rim of the sink with both hands, letting out a longer, "Oooooh!" as his face turns red, so I don't do any more pushing, although I'm desperate too. God, this feels good as I massage his buttocks lightly with both my hands; beautiful round hairless melons, firm yet with some give... great skin, really a hot ass! Tight inside too, and there's the thought of Pedro being a cherry, so that's special right there. When his coloring returns to normal, I ask, "You okay?" and he grunts, "More than okay, it's better than I thought it would be, it doesn't hurt as much as I thought it would and, believe me, I was ready to endure any pain to not be a gay virgin. It's beginning to feel soooo good to have your dick inside me." I calmly say, "There's only a little of it inside you now; wanna try for some more?" hoping he says 'yes'. He says, "Oh yes, I'm super psyched for this; I want it all, Dylan... I wanna have an orgasm from you fucking me." I can't ask for more than that, and push up inside him another three inches with him gritting his teeth, but not complaining. Being able to watch his facial reactions in the mirror is a big help in knowing if I'm hurting him; so far so good... it's been awesome good for me too! I massage his buttocks some more, gently pulling both melons away from his hole, and when he looks content I push in the rest of the way, and then lean against his ass to get that last quarter inch in there, and man, what a great rectum on this kid. I slide out slowly watching goose bumps rise on his arms. He adjust his grip on the sink and pushes back with his hips a little, so I'm thinking his rectum muscles have relaxed now, and it's alright to push in a little faster, then pull back right away and Pedro's head strains back with him quietly moaning, "Oooooh, yeah... feels good, Dylan." I get my arms around his chest to pull him up against me and fuck him like that; slowly, but steadily until he's humping back into my thrust moaning again.

There's nothing like the first time, if you're into being fucked by someone with compassion for you, that is. I know, 'cause I was into it right off the bat; and that's even with no compassion from fat Carl, who was doing the fucking. Pedro's head is rolling side to side as I fuck his ass, then I leave my cock inside him pressing against his ass and grind my hips rotating my boner some and my nuts begin growing and tightening-up, getting ready to move up my scrotum in preparation for orgasm. Taking my arms away from his chest to grab his hips again, Pedro leans right back to the sinks, holding on with both hands, and I get a steady rhythm of thrusting my hard slippery cock up his still tight hole with him pushing his ass back each time. He's letting out a series of whimpering moans of pleasure, but he's apparently unable to form words. I know that almost trance-like feeling of ecstasy myself. I love fucking, but being fucked is like no other thrill in the world, and I think Pedro's gonna be like me in that regard.

If he hadn't climaxed an hour and fifteen minutes ago, he'd have already had that orgasm, but he said he wants to have one from me fucking him. My problem is, I'm gonna climax before him and I gotta hope it doesn't somehow diminish his first time. In the mirror's reflection I can see his hard boner bobbing up and down each time I thrust my boner up his ass, it's dripping precum and so hard the skin looks painfully stretched, but from experience I know it's not painful. Pedro keeps moving his head and licking his lips as he moans his pleasure sounds; then he takes a hand from the sink and begins massaging his left nipple. I'm driving my cock up his awesome ass steadily, sweat on both Pedro's and my foreheads by now, and then he starts jerking spastically, lets out a too loud, "AAAGGGGHHH!" and a really nice stream of cum shoots from his bobbing cock spattering against the sink, then another as he's humping his hip gasping for air and I unload a long burst of cum up his ass, and now we're both jerking around so I grab around his waist with both arms, leaning over him, laying on his back basically, and hump my cock in him fast, shooting a lot more spunk up inside his rectum. It's a messy, juicy asshole now and my boner sloshes around feeling alive and fantastic, it's in control of me for these erotic seconds; precious few, but they're like nothing else in this world. Finished his orgasm Pedro has a couple of body spasms and appears on the verge of hyperventilating as he gasps for breath.

I thought I'd let out a rebel yell when I climaxed, but as I watched Pedro's awesome cock spurting so much cum, it brought on my own climax so fast, hard, and hot that I made only a hissing air-sound from my mouth. The initial cum explosion inside his ass though, that sent a crackle of electricity up my spine, and sent me temporarily into outer space. Now everything is calming down and Pedro appears to be basking in the glow of his first time, and the world appears to be back in order once again. I expected Pedro to be looking for some cuddles after his first anal sex but instead, when he collects himself he turns around, my cock slipping out of him, to face me with his hands in the air, like he just scored a touchdown, and dances from one foot to the other excitedly yelling, "I'm not a virgin any more, I'm not a virgin anymore!" I put one finger to my lips making the, "Shhhhh," sound, nodding at the bathroom door, meaning 'Willie's sleeping out there'. He giggles giving me a hug, whispering, "Oh yeah, sorry, but I'm no longer a virgin... I'm so happy." I chuckle while giving him a hug, then half jokingly, I ask, "Are you sure you're twenty years old?" He gets serious, saying, "Oh yes, me and my brothers all look young for our age." I mumble, "I guess so, but lets put some clothes on and see how Willie's doing."

He goes, "Sure, but can we celebrate me losing my cherry after that?" I glance up to see the reflection of his backside in the mirror behind him, and see my cum drooling down his legs, so I murmur, "Sure, we'll celebrate, but lets get cleaned-up first, and then we'll put our clothes on and share a beer or something out on the balcony. Have a toast to you and you're lost cherry." Wetting a washcloth, I wipe the back of Pedro's ass and the back of his legs, noticing how perfectly shaped his calves are. Tight thighs too, but his hairless calves are so sexy I encircle them with my bare hands and run my hands from his knee to the ankle on each leg. Man, somebody is going to be awfully lucky to have this kid as their boyfriend! After cleaning as much cum off Pedro as I can see, I wipe my now flaccid dick, then the sink where Pedro shot his load, then the floor. There's a lot to wipe-up too! It makes me smile, feeling real good that his first time was such a success. We get dressed and do a quick hug with Pedro quietly saying, "Thank you so much, Dylan Newman... um, well I can't thank you enough!" and another quick hug, as I murmur, "Thank you too, Pedro, it was a privilege to be your first."

As we dress, he adds, "It was better than my fantasies, and we did it... well, to be more accurate, you did it better than the video." Such praise, haha, but I just mumble, "Thanks for saying that," and then when dressed, I unlock and open the door to peek out at Willie; he's still sleeping it off, and I dare say he'll be doing that for hours to come. Walking quietly through the bedroom into the living room, I grab my cigarettes off the table and a bottle of Beck's beer from the mini bar and Pedro and I go out on the balcony, sliding the door shut behind us. It's past midnight; the blanket of stars overhead, and a large pale yellow moon hanging way out over the ocean, are lighting the night sky quite nicely. A pleasant breeze adds to the pleasant night and a smiling, excited Pedro completes the picture. Ooops, the beer isn't a twist off cap, so everything isn't perfect, haha. After cutting my finger trying to twist it off, I sneak back inside for a bottle opener and two glasses, then back out on the balcony to pour half the beer in each glass. Pedro and I touch glasses and I say, "To your first time, Pedro," he goes, "Hear, hear," and laughs; then we both take a drink and, at the same time, he goes, "Yuck!" then gets the giggles and laughs some more. Pedro is one happy camper and I try to concentrate on that, but I find myself looking at the railing Willie was hanging over and shudder at the thought of what might have been. What a miraculous and monumental turn of events from that to this: from a possible disaster of unimaginable consequences to this sweet, hot sexual experience... a first time experience for Pedro that realistically couldn't have gone any better from his point of view, and I guess from mine too. I probably needed something as extraordinary as Pedro to get me back to a positive mind frame, I mean after Willie's drunken misguided and childish response to his troubles. Taking a deep breath and gulping some more bitter beer, I turn my attention back to the chatterbox, previously known as shy Pedro. He's exuberantly explaining his plans for seducing this Ronny boy, who he has a crush on. It's amazing what a little confidence will do for a person; now Pedro's experienced sex with another guy and verified to himself that he likes gay sex as much as he thought he would. This has apparently given him the confidence that he won't embarrass himself when the opportunity for more occurs, hopefully with Ronny.

We discuss safe sex again, and how we probably should have had a condom for our sex together, but that he's safe with me, although he should be careful with anyone else. He says, with a sweet grin, I heard that recently, I think it was about fifteen minutes ago actually," then he hugs me, saying, "Thank you, Dylan Newman, I'll never forget you my whole life. My first time with someone as handsome, cute, and wonderfully nice like you." Wow, I mutter, "Your'e over estimating me, but thank you, Pedro. It was a privilege, and I really mean that with all my heart." Later, I'm smoking as Pedro describes Ronny as a nineteen year old boy with pierced ears and pierced eyebrows, tattoos on his forearms, and a long black ponytail. According to Pedro, the boy's a little stocky and kinda short, but oh so hot! Doesn't sound at all hot to me, but different strokes for different folks, and all that. Halfway through the beer Pedro asks, "Can I try one of your cigarettes, Dylan?" I go, "Hey, didn't you lecture me about the evils of smoking?" He shrugs, saying, "That's when I was a virgin; I see things differently now," and a shooting star flies across the sky. We both go, "Wow! Did you see that?"

What next, during this unbelievable night! Anyway, I hand him a cigarette, then hold my Bic lighter over so he can light it and the inevitable coughing, gasping, and pronouncements of how bad it tastes follows, with me trying not to laugh, but it's funny. Pedro perseveres with tiny girlie drags, then puts it out in the big ashtray, saying, "Ah, that was awesome," making me laugh again. We end our night together after we've both gagged down the beer, and after a quick hug, he says good night and tells me it's the best night of his life. That makes me feel good, and I smile as I walk him to the front door. Right outside is the bucket and mop propped against the wall in the hall, just the way he left it in another lifetime. He looks at it, and then back at me, like he's surprised it's here. I say, "From a lifetime ago, remember?" He gives me his killer smile, says, "I'll never forget you, Dylan," and then walks away using the mop's handle to pull the bucket along behind him. When he turns into the elevator alcove I sigh, then close the door and turn around, thinking, "Now for Willie.... Hmmm?"

to be continued.... Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com