Foxwood-09
The Foxwood Chronicles
By FreeThinker
The following may contain scenes of sexual activity between males. If you feel you may be offended by reading this or that it may be illegal for you to read this in your jurisdiction, please proceed no further. The author neither condones nor advocates the violation of any laws. Because the story begins in 1982, the characters portrayed herein may engage in behavior which could be considered unsafe or unwise, if not illegal. The author neither condones nor advocates unsafe or unwise behavior. The author, however, cheerfully condones and advocates exercising your imagination and your ability to think critically and rationally. Please do not copy or post this without the author’s permission.
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Be good. If you can’t be good, at least be interesting.
The Foxwood Chronicles
Chapter Nine
“Oh, Adam, I love you. I love you. I love you.”
Evan was laying naked atop his bed, the morning sun warming him as the cool breeze blew across him. His eyes were closed tightly and his head was thrown back against his pillow as his right hand desperately stroked his rigid boner. Visions of Adam danced before him, the sweet androgynous face hovering over his, the sensation of simply holding and hugging him, the smell of his unruly hair, the cute, high-pitched monotone of his voice. Evan didn’t even need to think of sex with Adam to be turned on by him. Just the thought of holding the singular boy was enough to drive him to distraction.
“Oh, God, Adam, I love you. I love you. I love you!!”
His hips pushed upward into the air as his fist jacked him over the edge and his thick teenage cum shot all over his stomach and chest, some even landing on his throat and chin. It seemed to last so much longer than his usual orgasms and when it finally subsided, Evan collapsed and sighed in wonderment.
Geez, he thought to himself. What’s happened to me? I should be thinking of getting the fuck fucked out of me by Michael Sanchez. However, as soon as he thought of those minutes sitting on Adam’s bed Tuesday afternoon, his arms around the boy, feeling Adam leaning into him, and the tension seem to flow out of his slender body, Evan felt something for Adam that he had never felt before, a combination of emotions he had never experienced.
He took a deep breath and as he heard his grandmother’s housekeeper, Margarete, turn on the Electrolux down stairs, he sat up and, using his underwear from the previous day, wiped himself off enough to put on a robe and head for the upstairs bathroom.
When he later appeared downstairs, clean and damp, barefoot and in a pair of khaki shorts and another OP, his grandmother was surprised to look up from The Wall Street Journal to see him entering the kitchen.
“Well, you’re up early. To what do we owe the honor?”
“Oh, nothing. I just didn’t want to sleep in again. I was thinking maybe of heading down to Adam’s after awhile and see if he’s OK after yesterday afternoon.”
“Oh,” his grandmother replied with a slight smile. “Concerned about him?”
“Well, yeah. That guy upset him pretty bad and I… just feel kind of responsible and all and so I… well, I just wanted to make sure he was OK.”
She smiled and nodded.
“Why don’t you invite him up here for lunch since yesterday didn’t go so well.”
Evan paused and, aware his image of cynic and brat were at stake, demurred.
“Well, I don’t think that’s necessary,” he replied with just enough resistance to show disagreement, but not enough to actually change her mind.
“Of course it is,” his grandmother replied with a knowing grin behind her newspaper. “What do you think he would like?”
“Well,” he’s kind of particular about what he eats. Like, he doesn’t eat hamburgers. He’s kind of into health food.”
“Hmm. Well,” she replied. “I’ll call his mother and I am sure we can find something for him.”
Before Evan could reply, or make an attempt to hide his excitement, the door bell rang. Evan jumped up and, then caught himself before his grandmother could look over the top of her newspaper and see. However, as he was hurrying down the hall toward the foyer, his heart sank. Standing on the other side of the screen door was… Michael Sanchez in his tennis whites and his glory, and, despite his dislike, Evan still had to fight the excitement he felt in his shorts.
“Hi,” he said in a shaky voice as he came up to the screen. “What can I do for you?”
“Well,” Michael replied with his usual knowing, cocky grin. “How formal.”
Evan shrugged his shoulders, blushed, and disturbingly found himself at a rare loss for words. Michael continued to smile and his eyes held Evan’s for several seconds.
“Um, would you like to come in?” he asked, his voice still shaking as he cursed himself.
“I can’t. Thanks. I’m my way to the club and I’m running a little late. I just wanted to stop by and apologize for yesterday. I really didn’t mean anything. I was just being, well, you know how it is. I didn’t mean anything.”
Evan paused a moment, remembering the pain Adam so obviously felt. He wasn’t certain he was ready to let Michael off the hook quite so easily, But, he looked up at those dreamy brown eyes and that smile, that damnable smile, and he suddenly knew he could never deny Michael anything he asked.
“It’s, um, I mean, he, yeah, I understand.”
Michael sighed with relief, just a tad too dramatically.
“Good, because I would hate to start off on the wrong foot. Is your friend OK?”
“Yeah,” Evan replied with more certainty than he had. “He’s OK. It really wasn’t as bad as it seemed.”
Michael smiled again and stepped back from the screen as if he were leaving. Evan opened the screen and slipped outside. Michael’s eyes gave him a lingering inspection as he said, “Well, I hope we can still get a game in, sometime. I’d like to see if you’re as good as they say you are.”
Evan started to reply that he was free anytime when he suddenly stopped.
“Wait a minute. I’ve never played here in Foxwood. How would anyone here know about me?”
“Who said it was here?” Michael replied with a mysterious smirk as he stepped down to the walkway. He turned and grinned.
“I’m pretty well booked for the day, but I’m free after seven tonight. We ought to have the courts to ourselves. You up?”
“Yeah, I’m up,” Evan replied, recovering some of his confidence and swagger. “Seven?”
Michael nodded and then walked out toward the red Corvette in front of the house. But, standing by the door, he looked up at Evan, watching lustfully from the porch, and called out, “You really don’t remember, do you?”
He grinned as he saw Evan’s eyes grow wide with fear and confusion.
He opened the door, called out a final, “See ya tonight,” and jumped in. Evan felt a surge in his shorts as the Vette sped off around the corner in front of the Huntington house and up Country Club Drive.
What the heck was Michael talking about? Where else could he have heard anything about him? And, what did he mean by, ‘You really don’t remember, do you?’
Stanford.
Oh, my God. It’s just a hop from San Jose to LAX or Burbank. Or, what, six or seven hours on the PCH or 101? He must have come down to LA for the weekend or something. Where did they meet? Or, did someone mention him? He was well-known in some circles, but that well known?
Evan sat down on the edge of the wooden porch, his feet resting on the second step, his elbows resting on his knees. He racked his brain, trying to remember all the parties he had attended over the last year where he might have met Michael, or where Michael might have seen him. Could it have been that party he and Chad had crashed during Spring Break at what’s-his-name’s? There had been a lot of college age guys there and he and Chad had been pretty popular that night. The guys had been knocking each other over to get to them.
His attempts to remember everything at each of the parties he had attended over the last few months was such that he didn’t notice the old Ford Granada as it pulled into the driveway. It wasn’t until he heard a car door slam and a familiar voice announce from the driveway, “Evan, we are spending the morning together,” that he looked up and saw Adam and his mother approaching across the grass. Immediately, all the confusion and lust he was feeling over Michael dissipated. Jumping up much quicker than was cool, he grinned.
“Hey, Adam! How’s it going today?”
“It is going good. We will go to your room now and you will show me your things.”
His mother grinned as she crossed the yard.
“Adam, maybe Evan has other plans. Maybe you should wait to be invited.”
Adam immediately seemed to shrink and his right hand rose to his ear again and began his usual finger dance.
Maybe you should shut up and leave the kid alone, Evan thought to himself. As if to make his point, Evan said, rather pointedly, “Come on, Adam. Let’s go up to my room.”
And, leaving Adam’s mother standing before the porch, the two boys entered the house. Fortunately for decorum, Evan’s grandmother was just emerging, so Mrs. Stuart was not left alone.
Evan led the way through the foyer and up the stairs, with Adam following, his right hand having returned to his side.
“You have a lot of books,” Adam said as they walked through the upstairs hall toward Evan’s bedroom.
“They’re my grandmother’s,” Evan replied. “She never throws anything away.”
“I like books,” said Adam. “I like to learn so I can be a scientist. I want to study physics and astronomy. I want to know how the universe works. I want to know how everything started. I’m reading a book called The Dancing Wu Li Masters. It’s about quantum mechanics and Zen Buddhism. I think the Zen Buddhism part is silly, but the quantum mechanics part is good. Do you know about Schrodinger’s Cat?”
Evan, as usual, didn’t know what to do as Adam launched off on another of his monologues; but, after twenty minutes of standing in the middle of his room as Adam explained the basic principles of quantum physics, Evan now understood that physics and logic work differently at the sub-atomic level than they do at the observable level. He understood that you could not predict anything in the microworld with absolute certainty, only with varying degrees of probability. And, he understood that Adam was amazingly intelligent.
“So that is what physicists and mathematicians are trying to do now, to find the Grand Unified Theory that ties up all the other theories. That is what I want to do. I want to be smart enough that I can go back to school and study physics and mathematics so I can define the Grand Unified Theory. I have to go to the bathroom now.”
And, without further ado, Adam turned and walked out to the hallway, where he stopped and looked around. Struggling not to laugh and not to run up and hug the boy with love because he was so cute and precious, Evan replied, “Second door on the right.”
“Oh, OK.”
Alone in his room, Evan was amazed at Adam’s intelligence. He knew things. It was astonishing. Why couldn’t he go to school? Did the teachers just not want to have to deal with the problems? Was that it? It just wasn’t convenient for the school system to adjust to Adam? Or, would they spend more time trying to make Adam adjust to them than in teaching Adam? Heck, Adam could probably teach the teachers, by now.
Evan felt… inferior and… honored. He felt he was in the presence of someone special, powerful, wise. Adam wasn’t a retard at all, by any stretch of the imagination. He wasn’t handicapped, except in the way that society refused to accept him. But, that was society’s handicap.
Suddenly, he felt angry and as Adam came into the room, Evan burst out, “It’s not fair! It’s not fucking fair!”
Adam was shocked and immediately raised his hands to the side of his head, his fingers dancing in horrified agitation.
“Oh, Adam!” Evan cried, rushing forward. He wrapped his arms around him and held him.
“I’m not mad at you, Adam. I’m mad at the world. I understand you now. I understand how smart you are and I can guess how hard it is for you when no one else understands and when they won’t let you do what you were born to do.”
Adam looked up at Evan and their eyes met as Evan held him. Their eyes held for a moment and then longer and then…
Evan lost touch with time. He had no idea how long they held their look, their eyes gazing into each other’s, but he was caught. He couldn’t look away and suddenly, he felt they were communicating. Adam was speaking to him through his eyes. Even though his face showed no emotion, Evan was understanding Adam through his eyes, through that gaze. He understood the love Adam felt for him, the frustration the boy felt with the world, and the gratitude in finding a kindred spirit.
It was not until the sound of footsteps on the stairs intruded into their special world of sharing, that Evan broke his look and stepped away from Adam. It took a moment for him to collect his scattered thoughts and overcome his wonder. The only difference in Adam’s demeanor, however, seemed to be a flush to his face and a rather obvious rise in his shorts.
“Adam,” Evan said softly as he took his friend’s hand, “come here and sit down. Quick.”
Adam followed, but didn’t seem to understand why. He gave Evan an accepting nod and sat, looking up at him as he did so. Seconds later, Evan’s grandmother peeked into the room.
“Adam, welcome to our home. I am so pleased you could come.”
Adam nodded.
“You have a lot of books. I like books. Evan is a cool guy. I like him. He’s my friend. Thank you for inviting me to lunch.”
Mrs. Vanderlyn gave him a warm smile.
“You’re sweet,” she replied. “Evan, we’ll eat at eleven thirty. Mrs. Stuart will be back to pick Adam up at twelve-thirty.”
“Why can’t you stay this afternoon?” Evan asked his friend with disappointment in his voice.
“Two professors from Foxwood College are coming to meet my parents and me. They want to test me. They want to see if they can teach me. I hope they can. I want them to teach me to be a physicist so I can develop the Grand Unified Theory.”
His grandmother simply smiled and said, “Have fun, boys,” before retreating to the hall.
“Show me your things,” said Adam looking around. He pointed to one of the U2 posters and said, “I like the boy on the poster. I like U2. So does Dad. He says Bono is a Christian and he likes him. I have two of their records. I like to listen to them. Dylan hates to listen to them. Dylan and I love each other more now than we did before. Last night…”
Not knowing what was coming, Evan raised a hand as he grinned at Adam.
“How about one subject at a time?”
Adam stopped and thought for a moment.
“Sometimes I talk too fast. Sometimes my brain thinks faster than I can say things. I will try to be better.”
Evan frowned. That was not what he meant. He walked over to Adam and took the boy’s hands. Adam looked up at him and gazed into his eyes as Evan said firmly, “Adam, you don’t have to change the way you think or talk or act for me. OK? You just be you and I will change for you. How’s that?”
“No. That is not fair to you. We are friends. We will both change for each other.”
He said it with such certainty that Evan couldn’t argue.
“Well, OK. That’s a deal!”
He leaned down and, partially as an experiment and partially as an expression of his feelings, he kissed Adam on the cheek. Adam nodded.
“Thank you. You are my best friend.”
Evan couldn’t think of anything to say. He could only wonder what Ricky and Robert and Chad and Kristen would think back home of him befriending, no- falling for, Adam. For so long, they had laughed at others, been slaves to style, worshiped the image, and sought gratification. Why had he found Adam so intriguing, so appealing, so… sweet?
“Evan?”
He awoke. He had been leaning over Adam and in his reverie, his mind had wandered off. He quickly stood and walked over to his stereo.
“So, Adam, what kind of music do you like?” he asked as he looked over his extensive cassette collection.
Adam thought for a moment and then replied, “Bach, Handel, Scarlatti, Telleman, Mozart, Vivaldi…”
Adam grinned.
“I mean something recording in this century.”
Adam attempted to mimic Evan’s smile, understanding that he was making a joke, though he didn’t quite get it.
“Elton John, The Carpenters, Barry Manilow…”
“Uggh,” Evan replied. “We need to educate you on new music.”
He looked over his collection.
“Hmm. New Order? Psychedelic Furs? Echo and the Bunnymen? Oingo Boingo?”
His eyes stopped on Josie Cotton. Should he? He was curious as to what Adam’s reaction would be. Would he understand?
He pulled the cassette out and slipped it into the player. He turned and grinned at Adam, who watched expectantly.
“This was a really hot song this spring,” Evan said. Immediately, a strong, almost harsh guitar entrance blared from the speakers and a woman’s voice began with, “Johnny what's the deal boy, is your love for real boy, when the lights are low, you never hold me close. Now I saw you today boy, Walking with them gay boys. Now you hurt me so, now I gotta know. Johnny are you queer?”
Evan was bopping to the music as the song began and watching Adam. By the time the song reached the chorus, he was openly dancing and Adam was carefully watching, moving the fingers of his right hand to the beat. Evan started singing along and within seconds, he was no longer in his bedroom in Foxwood, but at a party in LA.
“Cause when I see you dancing with your friends, I can’t help wondering where I stand. I’m so afraid I’ll lose you, if I can’t seduce you. Is there something wrong? Johnny come on strong.”
“Come on, Adam. Get up and dance!” said Evan over the music. He held his hand out toward the boy, who hesitated. Slowly Adam stood, the fingers on his right hand tapping their patterns against his thumb to the beat of the song. Slowly, his head began to bounce slightly to the beat and then his torso. He was carefully watching Evan and trying to mimic his friend’s dancing but, though his head and fingers were on beat, his torso and feet seemed clumsy. But, he tried to dance and he attempted a smile to mirror Evan’s as his hero spun and swung to the tune.
Evan had always been proud of his dancing. He and Kristen had dominated more dance floors than he could remember, putting dozens of older dancers to shame as they showed how it was done. Adam struggled to follow him and when the song came to its climax and the repetitious “Johnny are your queer boy,” faded, Evan was almost laughing with joy over his momentary return to his old life. Adam stopped moving and watched as Evan clicked off the cassette player on the stereo.
“That was fun. You are a good dancer. I want you to teach me to dance. I want to dance like you. If I can dance like you, then the other kids will like me and not make fun of me. Maybe I can get a girlfriend and then I will be popular and I can go to school again.”
Adam’s monologue continued and Evan, leaning against his desk, listened as his mood shifted from delight over his beloved dancing to sympathy and love for Adam and heartbreak at what he must have experienced in the past and the unrealistic expectations the naïve boy held over his possible future. However, before Evan could say anything to disabuse him of his dreams, he heard his grandmother’s quick steps up the stairs.
“What in the world was that song?” she demanded as she looked in the doorway. Evan cringed.
“Um, that was a popular song back home this spring. It doesn’t really mean anything; it’s just, like, you know, making fun of, well…”
His grandmother raised an eyebrow.
You know I’m pretty open-minded for Foxwood and it’s gotten me in trouble a few times. But, do you think, Evan, that this was really appropriate?”
Adam sensed this was not good for Evan and wanted to defend his friend.
“Evan was teaching me to dance so I can be popular and get a girlfriend and people will like me.”
“Well, I don’t think you’re going to get a girlfriend with that song.”
Evan actually blushed.
“Nana, it doesn’t really mean anything.”
She looked him in the eye and he knew she knew he was full of it. She crooked a finger and went to the hallway. Evan sheepishly followed.
“Evan,” she said softly, but seriously, “I know more than you think I know. You are you and I understand. But, I asked you to befriend Adam, not to seduce him. If you take advantage of him in any way, you will answer for it. I love you and I don’t care if you’re gay. But, you will not take advantage of Adam. Do you understand?”
Evan felt like a true schmuck. He looked down in shame.
“I… I… Nana, Adam is… special. I didn’t think I would like him at first. But, there’s something about him. He’s different. He’s special. He’s… not like anybody I know back home. He’s like… good. You know? Trust me. I could never do anything to hurt Adam. Never. I… I think I…”
“Nana,” said Adam from the doorway, his agitation growing. “Evan is my friend and he helps me and I love Evan and Evan is cool and… Evan is my friend. He is my best friend. He is my special best friend.”
Evan’s grandmother smiled understandingly at him, extended a hand, and held his face.
“I know sweetheart,” she said. “Don’t worry. Evan’s not in trouble.”
Adam’s agitated finger dance ended and he nodded.
“Why don’t you and Evan come downstairs now for lunch,” she continued, squeezing Evan’s shoulder for reassurance. “I have prepared some healthy chicken salad sandwiches for you, Adam! And, I have some wonderful sun tea and apples from the Huntington’s trees.
“Chicken salad is good. I like chicken salad. It is healthy. I like apples. They are good. They have fiber.”
As, he continued his monologue, the three descended the stairs. Evan glanced at his grandmother a couple of times and she gave him a smile and a nod.
Things was taking a surprising turn for Evan, and he was feeling quite confident about life suddenly. Things were definitely looking up.
Weren’t they?
Thank you for reading Chapter Nine of The Foxwood Chronicles. Please let me know what you thought at fthinker@gmail.com. Also, please check out my blog at christhinker.blogspot.com for interesting discussions of politics, religion, and all the things your mother warned you not to discuss in polite society. Thank you!!!