Heart of a Dancer 4
The Heart of a Dancer
Copyright© 2012 -- Nicholas Hall
The Heart of a Dancer - Chapter 4-"A New Family"
Oh, my God, did Malachi just propose marriage to me? It was perfectly legal in Iowa, this whole domestic partnership concept, giving the spouses all the legal rights as any other married couple. Malachi sat quietly, watching me closely for my reaction, continuing, "You know, Matt, how much I care for you. I've love you as I've never loved anyone else in my life. You are my first and my only lover and I want to spend my life with you. Would you marry me, Matt?"
Tears came to my eyes, so overcome with emotion I could do nothing but nod my acceptance of his proposal. I rose from my chair, sat astraddle of him on his lap, looped my arms about his neck, and kissed him deeply. I loved him more than life itself. I don't know what my life would be without him and Micah. Malachi giggled, kissed me back, and said, "We'll have to let Micah know tonight. Can you keep it a secret until I come home from work? I shouldn't have anything too pressing today, so I should be home for supper."
That evening, I grilled steaks for us, along with a side salad, hard rolls, and a veggie, complimented with a nice, but not too expensive, red wine. I thought this made a very appropriate announcement meal. Micah was confused concerning the special occasion, but once Malachi made his toast, "to us" and tapped my glass, then Micah's, the penny dropped!
"I knew it, I just knew it," he shouted. "When are you getting married?"
I think he was more excited than Malachi and I. First he hugged and kissed his brother, then me, and finally, his head against his brother's chest, murmured softly, "Thank you, Malachi. You're so lucky, he's so beautiful. We're really lucky aren't we, brother?"
"Yes, we are," Malachi responded looking at me, "and we'll stay together as one family."
The mid-June civil ceremony was a simple one with only a few friends and family present. Malachi's and Micah's Aunt was there along with their cousins and families. Although my family was invited to the ceremony and reception, none attended as I knew they wouldn't. At first I wasn't going to send them invitations, but Malachi said, "It's the right thing to do," and he was right, so I sent out the invitations, scrounging on the internet for addresses.
I was the youngest of four children born into a very conservative, evangelical Christian family. My oldest brother, Mark was a pastor in an evangelical church in Northwest Iowa. He and his wife had six children. James, the next oldest, had four children and was a banker in the Southeast Iowa. My sister, Esther, and her husband were missionaries in some remote part of Southeast Asia. They had no children that I knew of. I sent their invitation to Mom and Dad and hoped they would forward it to them, wherever the hell they were.
James was in junior high school when I came along so there was quite an age difference between him and me and Mark and Esther. In fact, Mark had children just a few years younger than I. Growing up, it seemed like my nieces and nephews were more like cousins. Daddy was always bragging how Esther and her husband were deep in the heart of heathen territory bringing the good news of salvation to savages. He was equally as verbose when singing the praises of brother Mark and the fine job he was doing bringing those wayward souls in the northwest part of the state into the fold. I dreaded holidays when Mark and his family came home to visit. He was always asked to give the table blessing and he would pray for ever. Hell, I was often fearful of the food growing too cold to eat by the time he was done.
Evidently, James was "rendering unto Caesar" and didn't receive many accolades. I don't know if Daddy viewed him as one of the "money changers" found in the temple or not, but he didn't say much about him, good or bad.
By the time I made it to high school I knew for certain I was bent as a willow in a strong breeze, but fear kept my sexuality bottled up. I knew my father and mother and the rest of the family would have an absolute shit-fit when they discovered I liked boys instead of girls, so I kept it to myself. Knowing my family was populated with homophobes and racists saddened and depressed me so. I don't know how any of them could declare themselves as good Christians when they were such hypocrites and bigots. I often thought if all those people who said they were Christians acted like Christians, there'd be a lot fewer problems in the world..
My senior year of high school, while on a music field trip to Chicago to visit the Museum of Science and Industry, the Art Museum, and attend a real live ballet performance to "broaden our horizons and stimulate our minds" according to the music teacher, I found myself stimulated, not only my mind but my cock as well.
I roomed with Leo Kaszinski, a horny little fucker who taught me the fine art of cock sucking and butt fucking. That first night in the hotel, when he slurped me into his mouth clear to my pubes was absolutely the most fucking fantastic experience I had in my life up that point, that is until Leo poked his five inches of stiff cock up my ass and rode me hard. Between cock sucking and fucking, my libido was stimulated beyond "normal experimentation" to outright enjoyment of everything we could do or I thought we should do. Leo fucked me six ways to Sunday and I loved it, that's for certain.
After three nights of that and me blowing him, there was no doubt I batted for the other team. Once I tasted the sweet fruits of love making, there was no turning back in my mind. When I asked Leo if his parents knew he was gay, he shrugged and said, "Yeah, ever since I was in eighth grade."
He was fucking one of our classmates on a regular basis after school in his bedroom on the pretense of "studying together." He was "studying together" alright, just as deep into his subject as he could shove his dick. The boy with the cock up his ass moaned one time, too loud, too often, and his dad, working in his study down stairs, over heard it. It doesn't take a mental genius to identify the sounds of orgasmic lust being emitted by the fuckee as the fucker drives it home and dumps his load.
After the other boy left and Leo cleaned his cock off, he went down stairs intending to act as if nothing out of the ordinary occurred, just being his normal self. This time, however, his dad sat him down and point blank told him he really didn't approve of his dalliances at his age, but there was little they could do stop him, except request he keep his love affairs out of the house and wait until he was older. His parents told him he was their son and they loved him no matter what. He said his Dad said to follow his heart and be the man he was meant to be. Further he told him that God didn't make junk and He loves you just as much as straight kids.
That blew my mind, the acceptance of his parents, so I asked, "What does your father do?"
"He's a minister," he replied as he rolled me over on my stomach and buried his shaft in my ass once again. Leo gave me a lot to think about that night, other than him long-dicking my prostate and fucking me to orgasm, convincing me I really enjoyed being a bottom. If his father, a minister, would accept him as gay, then surely my parents would. After all, they believed in the same God, didn't they?
I'd like to say I was brave and after that trip, I marched up to my parents, declared my sexual orientation, and birds sang, rainbows appeared in the heavens, and all was well. Sorry, it didn't happen that way. I really wanted to, but let's face it, I was chicken shit. Instead, I waited until graduation. The afternoon of the ceremony, when we received our diplomas, I wore a nice gay pride rainbow ribbon on my black robe. Quite a few of the class noticed it and some smiled and nodded, while others frowned and looked on me with derision. It didn't go unnoticed with my family either.
My minister brother was the first to spot the ribbon and asked me to remove that sign of "abomination" and "affront to God's laws", as he put it. I just shook my head "no" and then he really got wound up. He started to make a real big to-do in front of Momma and Daddy and everyone in the house for the reception. This was supposed to be a celebration, for God's sake, not a crucifixion, but that's what it turned out being. When Daddy joined in, it was awful, humiliating, and embarrassing. Before I could say or do anything, he and Mark secured me in their clutches, hauled me up the stairs to my room away from the astonished house guests and relatives. Before I could escape their grasps, they forced me to my knees admonishing me to pray for forgiveness and forsake my evil ways. The more I struggled, the louder they prayed, until I finally outshouted them screaming, "I'm gay and proud of it, because the God I believe in doesn't make junk."
Well, that wasn't the right thing to say. Daddy shoved me back on my bed and Mark and he spent two hours shouting, praying, haranguing me, blaming the public schools, Satan, you name it, until Daddy finally said, "What's the name of that camp, you know, the one that breaks boys of this curse and brings them back to the one true God? Matthew is going to leave for there as soon we can get him packed. I'll not tolerate his perverted behavior in this Christian house."
I stepped off of my bed, stood as tall as I could, and for the first time in my life, defied Daddy. "No, I'm not going there or anywhere that is going to abuse me," I announced quietly. His response was quite predictable, leading to more shouting on his part and Mark's. Mark was bound and determined I'd do as Daddy ordered. He turned to Daddy and said, "He's defying you and our God, something must be done."
When Daddy balled up his fist and shouted "Yes, young man, you'll go where I order you to go and be cured of this madness," I calmly walked toward the door and said, "and you bigots can kiss my ass," and walked out before either of them could stop me.
I had nowhere to go, no place to stay the night, so I wandered over to the only place I knew where gay kids were accepted and loved; Leo's. Knocking on his door, wondering what I was going to say, tears streaming down my face, all doubt concerning my future dissolved when Pastor Kaszinski opened the door, looked at me, and said, "Oh, my poor child, life has dealt you a cruel blow, hasn't it?"
I nodded and let him take me into his arms and lead me inside that house of sanctuary and refuge. Pastor and Leo went over to my house to pick up the clothes and other personal belongings (not much) setting on the front porch where Daddy and Mark had dumped them, everything all akimbo, laying in piles. I quickly withdrew what savings I had before Daddy and Mark remembered I had a savings account and grabbed it to prevent me from surviving and going to Iowa City to school. From that moment on, I never looked back, determined to make my own way the best I could.
With Pastor Kaszinski's assistance, I found a job right away and made it through the rest of the summer. Not once did Pastor Kaszinski ask for me to pay room, board, or anything, even though I offered many times. To me, this is what caring people did, Christian or otherwise. It was a lesson I never forgot. Of course, the side benefit of it was Leo. He and I shared a room and most nights Leo shared my bed with his cock shoved up my ass, breeding me, bringing me to orgasm more than once each time we coupled. That boy had stamina I'll say that for him.
My savings, a couple of scholarships (I was a damned good student), and some student loans got me started on my first year, but the job I landed the next summer in Iowa City was the one that really put me on my feet. Once I joined the dance troupe, starring as one of their fresh, young, talented (and we mean "talented" according to the play bill) exotic dancers, I was "shitting in tall cotton" as I once heard one of the old timers at the hardware store say. What I earned in wages and tips more than paid my way and gave me dollars in the bank. Not once, after I left home, did I hear from anyone in my family. They completely, totally forgot about me. But now, with my union to Malachi, I had a family of my own, one that I loved and loved me. I officially became Matthew Westmoreland-Stevens, spouse of Malachi Stevens, brother-in-law of Micah Stevens, and I intended to enjoy life.
I wasn't about to let the absence of my family deter us or spoil our celebration. We had reservations for our guests at a nice supper club in the city. A band was already scheduled to perform, so we planned a dinner-dance (with a little extra tossed in for the band doing some of the numbers we requested) and began to enjoy the evening. Although the price seemed a bit steep, Malachi and I felt it was well worth it to have everyone with us on this special occasion. The dinner was excellent and the band fantastic. Malachi and I danced the very first dance of the very first set of the evening, after the band announced there was a wedding party present, and then all others joined in. I was pleased to see Malachi's Aunt enjoy a waltz or two; first with one of her grandsons, then Malachi, and finally Micah.
Micah finally got his turn to dance with me and lo and behold, the band began playing one of the songs from our dance days. We both laughed and performed for Malachi and the others, with our clothes on, of course. Perhaps it wasn't as entertaining as it might've been if we'd stripped and lap-danced the crowd, but we still had a good time and so did our guests. When the evening finally ended and we were home, I knew for the first time since I'd been shot, that everything would be just fine in our lives, no matter what.
After the celebration, we settled into our life together. Malachi continued his work with the B.C.I. and Micah was employed as summer relief worker and driver for one of the parcel delivery services, but only worked the metro and surrounding area. This meant he was home most nights, unless he could work in some overtime, which he never turned down. I kept busy around the house, taking care of my two men and enjoying every minute of it while I continued my recovery. There were times Malachi had to be gone overnight, but that was fine since Micah and I were well bonded and comfortable with each other. Fortunately, while Malachi was gone those nights, Micah didn't suffer any night terrors.
In July, I received my layoff notice from the school district, but decided to wait until my LTD expired before applying for unemployment benefits. It made more sense to me, providing some income as my contribution to the household in case I couldn't substitute teach in the area when school started in the fall. Malachi and Micah reassured me I was doing more than "contributing" to the household by having meals ready for them, paying the bills and keeping our accounts, and taking care of the house and laundry. I must say, though, they both were really great at doing their part and pitching in. Many is the time, either Malachi or Micah did the laundry or fixed a meal or cleaned house, so it wasn't a struggle for any of us. Malachi and I truly had a partnership and Micah was an important part of it.
When I went for my doctor's appointment in August, I was declared fit to return to work and my disability ended one week later. I trotted my ass down to the Department of Workforce Development the day after I received my notification and applied for unemployment benefits. I figured I could make cold calls for jobs and fill out employment forms for a while. I wasn't that anxious to return to work, but I was a bit pissed at being laid off.
About a week after the State Fair was over, Micah called home saying he'd be working late and save some dinner for him (I always did) because he'd eat when he got home. Malachi came home early, "things were slow" he said and besides he missed me. How nice! He'd just removed his suit coat, but not his pistol or badge (on his belt) when the doorbell rang. I was in the kitchen getting some steaks ready for the grill later that evening so I hollered at him to get the door, please. It was very quiet for a moment, and then Malachi came to the kitchen with a very puzzled look on his face.
"Matt, Honey, there's a cute, skinny, white boy at the door asking to see you."
To be continued.
**
Thank you for reading Chapter 4 -- "A New Family" from "The Heart of a Dancer." I hope you enjoyed it and I invite you to follow "The Heart of a Dancer" to its eventual conclusion. Other stories of mine can be found at:
Nifty- Beginnings - "Table Number Five" -- January 18, 2012
Nifty- Beginnings -"The Carpenter and the Piano Man" -- January 24, 2012
Nifty-Beginnings -- "Gillie" -- January 31, 2012
Nifty-High School - Sheldon's Nutshuckers
"The Stinky Pinky" -- February 14, 2012.
"The Head of Medusa" -- March 8, 2012
Nifty- Beginnings --"Last House on the Left" -- February 21, 2012
Nifty-College -- "First of May" -- February 29, 2012
The Literary works of Nicholas Hall are protected by the copyright laws of the United States of America and are the property of the author.
Positive comments are welcome and appreciated at: nick.hall8440@gmail.com