Shining Star

Shining Star By David Brooke

Disclaimer: This is a fictional story containing explicit consensual and non-consensual gay sex between adult men. If you find this type of story offensive, or viewing this material is illegal where you are, then do not do so.

Chapter 5 - A Shinning Star is Born

I slept until noon, missing my morning Chemistry class. I showered and rushed to catch my afternoon Sociology class. I felt a little woozy from my late night tryst with the old cowboy. My mind had a lot of gaps from yesterday. I remembered having a party at our condo and watching the football, but my next memory was winding up at Caesar's Palace somehow and eating at the coffee shop and realizing I had no wallet or money, and then "winning the bet" with the old cowboy. After class I sought out Bill Myer, who was also in my Chemistry class, to see if I could borrow his notes. I got up with him outside.

"Hey Bill!" I called out. "Hey, wait up, man?"

Bill whirled around to look at me, with an angry glare on his face. "Stay the fuck away from me, man!"

"Whaaat?" I stuttered in surprise. He seemed really pissed at me. "What's wrong? Did I do something wrong?" I asked anxiously.

Bill looked around nervously, as if to see if anyone was watching us. "I told you yesterday, man, that was a one time shot!" he whispered hoarsely.

"Yesterday?" repeated, totally confused. "I saw you yesterday? What happened?"

Bill stared at me intently. "You really don't remember?" he asked questioningly. "You really don't fucking remember anything?"

"Remember what! What the fuck happened? I . . . I had a really weird day yesterday. I remember we had some guys over to watch the Superbowl, and the game starting, and the next thing it was nighttime and I had ended up at Caesar's Palace. Did I get really drunk or something?"

Bill looked around anxiously. "Look, walk with me this way." I followed him across the commons. "Look, man" he began, as he continued to look about anxiously. "From what I hear, someone slipped you some drugs in a drink."

"Drugs! Someone slipped me some drugs? Fuck! What kind of drugs?" I demanded to know in a mixture of fear and rising anger.

"A roofie" he replied. "You know, that date rape drug? I guess it releases all your inhibitions, and you don't remember anything afterward." He looked around again. "Dude, by the time I got there, you were the party entertainment."

"What did I do?"

Bill looked around, and then exhaled a short laugh. "Dude, you were begging to chow down on any dude's dick who would give it to you." The blood drained from my face. "You were wild, man! You were saying some shit like "The more dick I get, the more dick I want!" You tried to chow down on my dick right there in the living room in front of everyone else! We went back to your room and you practically inhaled my dick down your throat, and then begged me to fuck you! And, dude, you'd already taken a bunch dudes up your ass; you were all slimy and loose inside."

"You fucked me?" I asked in amazement, and dread.

Bill looked around quickly. "Ssssh! Keep it down, man! Look, don't get the wrong idea. I'm not . . . that . . . way. I'm not into that shit! It's . . just, well, everyone else was giving it to you . . . and, I was horny and shit. And, it's not like it was rape or anything - you were begging for it, begging for me and everyone else to give it to you."

"It kind of seems like rape to me when I can't remember anything, and someone slipped me a fucking roofie" I responded angrily. "Do you know who slipped me the fucking roofie?"

"No!" Bill quickly assured me. "I don't know anything about it; I don't know who slipped you the roofie." He looked about again. "But, dude - it's getting around. Some of the guys who were there are spreading it around that you're gay and shit, and a total slut for dick. I . . I can't hang around you anymore, man. I . . I don't want people to get the wrong idea."

I stopped walking abruptly. "Fine" I quietly said. "No problem, man. I understand. Thanks for telling me, though; about someone slipping me a roofie. It explains a lot, why I can't remember anything."

"Sure, man" Bill replied, stopping to look back at me. He seemed to consider something for a minute, and the walked to me, casting a wary eye about. "Look, man. I don't know anything about how all that happened - the roofie, and shit. But, I will tell you this: Look out for Colin. He's NOT your friend." He turned, and walked away abruptly.

I walked around campus the rest of the day in a daze, thinking about what Bill had told me, trying to remember more details of what happened, but it was all still a big hole in my memory. As I sat in classes or walked around campus, it seemed to me other students would whisper together, nod in my direction, and then giggle or outright laugh. "Well, that's it" I thought to myself. "I'm fucked, I'm totally fucked. Everyone thinks I'm gay, everyone thinks I'm a major homo, and a fucking slutty one, too. I tried to suck off Bill in the living room, in front of everyone else? I can't believe I would do something like that! Is there something about me I don't know about, or understand? Am I really just faggot slut for cock? Well, I did sell my ass last night, didn't I? Sold my ass for money, just like a fucking gay-boy hooker. I guess that's just all I am."

When I got home to the condo, Brad came running out his room to meet me. "Chad!" he practically shouted as he grabbed me by the shoulders. "Are you OK, man?"

"Yeah, yeah" I assured him. "I'm fine, man."

"Where did you go last night, man?" he asked with concern. "I waited up half the night and you didn't come home. When I got up and went to class I looked in and saw you were sleeping. Then when I came home you were gone, and I was worried you . . . . Well, I've been worried about you, man!"

"I'm fine, I'm fine, man" repeated, brushing his hand off my shoulder. "I don't remember how I got there, but I ended up a Caesar's Place, and I . . . Well, I hung there pretty late." I looked Brad evenly in the eye. "I don't remember shit, but I hear we had party yesterday, and I got a little wild?"

"You don't remember?" Brad repeated, peering into my eyes questioningly.

"Can't remember shit" I assured him. "I mean, I remember getting ready for the Superbowl party. Colin and me were in the kitchen making snacks and his punch. A couple of guys came by. The game started. Colin kept getting me drinks of punch. And . . ." I stopped abruptly. I remembered Bill's voice "someone slipped you a roofie." And, "watch out for Colin - he's NOT you're friend." I gritted my teeth. "And," I continued, "the next thing I remember it was night and I was at Caesar's Palace. But," I continued with a sarcastic smile, "I hear I put on quite a show."

Brad shook his head sadly. "Man, you were fucking crazy! You totally outted yourself. You kept asking me to fuck you - in front of everyone else. You started to go down on one guy right here in the living room, in front of everyone else, until we made you guys go back to your room. I didn't get here until almost half time, and by then a couple of guys had already fucked you, and you were headed out toward the living room looking for more, totally fucking nude, when I grabbed you."

I shook my head. "Sorry, man. I guess I fucked up." I said sadly. I looked at Brad. "I hear someone slipped me a roofie. I guess those things really do 'release' your inhibitions." I shook my head sadly and looked at the floor. "I didn't realize I was fucking slut." I looked up at Brad quickly. "Do you have any idea who slipped me that roofie?"

"Uh, no, no man" Brad replied, looking down at his feet. "I have no idea. By the time I got home you were already flying high on that shit, and there was a bunch of guys here. Could have been any one of them, I guess."

"Yeah, well, like you say: Could have been anyone of them." I replied, gritting my teeth angrily. "Guess I'll never know. Well, don't know what else to say, man. Sorry. I guess I fucked up." I started off toward me room.

"Chad!" Brad called out. "Uh, Chad, wait man. We . . . uh . . . we need to talk about something."

I turned around to face him. "Yeah?"

"Uh, sit down, man" Brad said, gesturing toward a chair.

"No, I'll stand" I told him. "Go ahead, spit it out. What is it?"

Brad looked down at the floor, shift his feet uncomfortably. "Well," he began. "Well, uh. Well, me and Colin had a long talk. He's going through some personal shit. And, well, uh, he has some real problems with gay people."

"Oh yeah?" I asked. "Is that why he's been such a jerk to me lately?"

"Yeah," Brad concurred. "Something happened over Christmas break, something that makes him think he really hates faggots."

"What happened?" I asked. "Someone try to hit on him?"

"No, not that" Brad replied. "Something else. But, it's his business. Just be really careful around him. He thinks and acts like he's a member of the 'God Hates Fags' Nazis at the moment."

"Ok" I agreed, with a shrug of my shoulders.

"Yeah, well, there's the problem with Colin" Brad began. "And there's a problem with . . . well . . . Some of the guys at the party yesterday are blabbering about what went on. Uh, talking about what you did, and spreading shit around."

"Yeah, that's what I hear" I said evenly. "I hear it's pretty much around campus that I'm one big fucking H-mo."

"Yeah" Brad agreed sadly. "Coach even heard about it. Called me in the office, and asked me about you, if I knew you were an 'avowed homosexual'. I told him I didn't know anything about it, until yesterday. Coach said it was real bad for my reputation, to be sharing an apartment with a 'known homosexual'. Said he'd heard stories about 'wild sex parties' at my apartment, with 'homosexual activity'. He kind of implied he might kick me off the team."

"I'm really sorry, Brad" I told him, choking back the urge to cry.

"I'm really sorry too, Chad" Brad said sincerely. "I really like you, man. I mean, we had some fun . . . uh, doing shit together. But, I really like you as a friend, as a person. You're really a good hearted dude, man."

"Thanks, Brad" I said weakly, struggling harder to hold back my tears. "I really like you, too; as a friend, as a person."

"Yeah, well ... "Brad began, sounding as if he were choking back his emotions as well. "But, well, Chad . . . uh, with Colin's problems . . . and, well, with the coach on my ass . . . " Brad paused and took a deep breath. "Well, Chad, with all the shit going on, I think it's really best if you moved out of the house."

"No problem, man" I assured Brad with a steady voice. "I agree. I've been thinking I should get a place of my own. I mean, it's no fun with Colin being such an asshole about everything, and I don't want to fuck things up for you. I'll be out by the end of the week."

"You sure?" Brad asked anxiously. "You sure you're OK with this?"

"No problem, man" I assured him with a shrug of my shoulders. "It's what I want, too. I really want a place of my own, and I'm fine for money."

"Thanks, Chad" Brad said with relief. "Thanks for being OK with everything, man."

"No problem" I assured him. I turned to go to my room.

"Uh, Chad?" Brad called out.

I turned to face him. "Yeah?"

"Uh, well, there's something else you need to know" Brad began, looking very comfortable. He looked down to the floor. "Uh, well, I guess you'll be receiving an 'official notice' and shit, but . . . Well, coach told me to tell you you're out. You're fired as sports medicine assistant. Said he couldn't allow someone 'openly homosexual' in 'intimate contact' with his team."

"Yeah" I agreed in a steady, controlled voice. "I can see with how everyone on campus talking about what a big fucking H-mo I am, that no one on the team would want me giving them a message, or me being around them in the locker room." I shrugged my shoulders. "No problem. Actually, I think I found a new job, last night."

"Oh yeah?" Brad asked with curiosity. "What?"

"Oh," I said casually. "I ran into a guy last night that kind of pointed me in the right direction. Working around the casinos, on the Strip. Being involved in entertainment."

"Doing what?" Brad questioned.

"Not important" I told him. "Look: no problem. I'll be out of the apartment by the end of the week. And, tell the coach I'll clear my stuff out tomorrow morning, when none of the players will be around. Tell him he doesn't have to worry about me ever showing my face around the sports facility again." I turned around and went to my room.

I found my own apartment the next day. After deposit and first month's rent, I still had plenty of my thousand bucks left over. I spent some more of it on clothes, until I settled on my tennis shorts slut outfit. I tried hustling that weekend. I didn't find any lucky gamblers with cowboy hats at Caesar's, but I did find a slightly drunk military guy on leave outside on the sidewalk who reluctantly finally agreed to paid me $100 to fuck me hard and rough, and then later that night an even more drunk businessman from Cleveland who paid me $150 to fuck me some more. As I became more confident and proficient at my trade, I've worked my way up to $500 asking price, $300 minimum. I've stayed in school, in my sports medicine major, more to keep my parents off my ass and asking questions than anything else. I'll sure as hell never be able to work in sports medicine. No one will have anything to do with me at school, which is just fine with me, as I don't want anything to do with them, either. Brad still tries to be friendly whenever I run into him, but I always put him off. Bill Myer even stopped me once - always looking around to make sure no one sees him talking to me - and asked me for my phone number. Said 'maybe we could hook up some time'. I told him I didn't have a phone, and walked away.

So, that's it. That's my story, and this is where we came in at. I'm standing in front of The Venetian, looking for a trick for the night, wondering if that attorney from Connecticut will decide if his curiosity and my ass are worth three hundred bucks to him. And, now you know my story. I said I wasn't gay. I don't know, maybe I was and didn't realize it, or willing to own up to. I don't really care; I'm not big on labels. What I do know is every friend I've had in life has fucked me over. Everyone I ever trusted thought of me just as a piece of ass. So, I might as well be a piece of ass - a good piece of ass, and get paid for it. I don't have friends anymore; I don't need them. I don't need anyone, and I don't trust anybody.

"Oh great! You're still here!" I hear someone exclaim behind me. I turn around to see a tall, lanky guy with curly dark hair standing before me. He has intense dark blue eyes, and they're staring at me intently. He has a huge grin on his face.

"Maybe you don't remember me . . ." he begins. "I was in that car, in the back. That convertible, with the jerk in front that made some crack about you being a 'fag'."

"I remember you" I assured him. And I did. It was Mister Hottie, the guy in the back seat of the convertible with the sexually confused jerk in the front checking out my ass and calling me a fag. "So, where are your buddies?"

"I ditched them" he responded enthusiastically. "I got in a big argument with Steve - that guy in front that was such a jerk. I'd never met him before; he's a friend of one of my other friends who invited him along to help share the hotel and rental car bill. You were totally right on - I think he has some major sexual orientational conflicts. He constantly points out guys, saying how gay they look, like he did to you. So, I told him that I thought if he was really so straight, it would seem like he would be paying attention to chicks, not other guys. He went ballistic, calling me a 'fag lover' asking me if I had a boyfriend. So, I got out of the car at a stoplight, told them I'd catch up with them later, and I caught a taxi back here to see if I could find you. I'm REALLY glad you're still here!"

"Oh yeah?" I said. "And why is that?"

"Because I'm really curious" he replied.

"Oh, yeah" I thought to myself. "I've heard THIS line before. Let me guess: You've always been curious what it would be like to 'do it' with another guy, and you think I'm just the right guy to help you out with that." I looked around, and spotted the Connecticut attorney come out of the casino, looking around, hopefully looking for me, but he hasn't spotted me yet. "Too bad, kid" I think to myself. "You're a hottie, but, you should have killed some more time. Business first. Maybe we can hookup another time."

"So," I said, turning around to look back at Mister Hottie. "What is it that you're so 'curious' about?"

"I'm curious why you're so sad and lonely" he replied matter-of-factly.

"Whaaat!" I stuttered in surprise. My eyes narrow and I glare at him. "You saying you think I look sad and tired?"

"No" he corrected me. "Sad and lonely. I mean, don't get me wrong! I think you look great! I mean, I think you're the most beautiful guy I've ever seen in my life. You are incredibly handsome. You look like you should be some model, or movie star. Everything about you is just so perfect"

"Well, thanks" I tell him, smiling slightly at the compliments. "You know, you aren't too bad looking yourself."

"Thanks!" he replied, smiling and blushing slightly. "It's just your eyes" he continued. "When I look into your eyes I see sadness, like you've been really hurt before, like you don't trust anyone, and that's why you're alone. It's what attracted me to you. I mean, you look so fucking handsome . . . I would never be able to approach someone that looks as good or as hot as you, except for what I see in your eyes. It's like . . . like I can see your soul when I look into your eyes. And, I see a good soul; but a soul that's been hurt, and is sad, and all alone."

"Yeah well, yeah I have been fucked over a few times in my life" I assured him. "And, you're right - I don't trust a fucking person on this planet." I looked around quickly. Mister Attorney has spotted me, and is standing on the steps looking at me. He tilted his head slightly, questioningly. I nod, silently communicating "Yeah. Give me a minute." I turned back to Mister Hottie. I debated briefly to dispatch him then and there. "So tell me," I asked instead. "Why are you so curious about what you think you see in my eyes? What does it matter to you if I've been fucked over, or hurt? I mean, what the fuck difference does it make to you?"

"Do you really want to know?" he asks.

"Yeah, yeah" I assured him sarcastically. "I really want to know. Out with it! I'm dying here!"

"Well," he begins earnestly, "because I think I'm totally in love with you."

"What the FUCK?" I gasped in shock.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" he said quickly. "I mean, I'm sorry if that offends you. I'm sorry if another guy saying that to you offends you. I mean, I don't know if you're gay, or straight, or whatever. But, you asked, and I asked if you were sure you really wanted to know, and . . ."

"I'm not offended" I assured him. "It just . . . I mean, I don't get it. You see someone for one minute and you think you're in love with them?" I asked, incredulous.

"Don't you believe in love at first sight?" he asked.

"No" I assured him. "I don't believe in love at any sight!"

"Well then" he began, "If you don't believe in love at first sight, let's go get to know each other. Wanna go grab something to eat?"

"Yeah, right" I said, my sarcasm rising . "Let's go get to know each other. And after we 'get to know each other'? What do you have in mind? The all-night wedding chapel?"

"No" he answered, sounding slightly hurt. "Do you really want to know what I'd like to do after we get to know each other?"

"Yeah, yeah!" I told. "I really, REALLY want to know! Gotta hear this one!"

"Well," he begins slowly, "I'd really like to make slow, mad passionate love to you for half the night, kissing you, holding you, exploring your body and your soul. And then I'd like to fuck your brains out the rest of the night."

"What the FUCK?" I gasped in surprise.

"Look, I'm sorry if that offends you . . ." he blurts out quickly. "It's. . ."

"I'm NOT offended" I assured him, cutting him off in mid sentence. "It's just . . . I mean, well, I've never met anyone like you before. No one quite as . . . . direct . . . as you are." I shook my head in disbelief. "I . . . I don't get it. I mean, you seem like some kind of hopeless romantic, love at first sight and all that. But, I still don't get what would make you think you could love me at first sight. I mean, I hardly think I'm the romantic type, or look like I would be."

"No" he conceded "You definitely don't seem like the romantic type. Not yet, anyway. But, give me a shot!" he added brightly. "Give me a shot, and I'll turn you into a hopeless romantic."

I looked at him skeptically, and then turned around to check on Mr. Attorney. He spotted my gaze, held up his arm, and tapped his wrist watch. I held up a finger. "Just a minute, just give me one minute" I communicate silently to him.

"Do you really want to know why I'm pretty sure I'm completely, totally in love with you?" I hear Mister Hottie ask.

"Yeah" I say with a sigh of exasperation, turning around to face him. "I'm just dying to hear this one. Tell me."

"Because I'm pretty sure you're my Shining Star" he tells me confidently.

"You're shining WHAT?" I asked, completely confused.

"My Shining Star" he repeated. "It's what my mom always called it" he explained. "My mom was always a hopeless romantic. She told me as a little child that each one of us has a 'special someone' meant just for them, their 'Shining Star', their perfect match. She said that when you meet your Shinning Star, you'll know it immediately; you'll know in your heart that you've met him or her. You'll know you've met the person meant for you in your life. And she said it's really important that you embrace what you feel in your heart, embrace the love that you feel, welcome your Shining Star into your heart and your life, and don't let them get away. She said that's how it was for her and my dad. She told me the first moment she met my dad she knew she had met her Shining Star, and that it was love at first sight for both of them. They made slow, mad passionate love that night and fucked their brains out, and I was conceived that very first night."

I stared at him blankly for a few seconds, to see if he had finished, trying to decipher what he had said. He seemed to be waiting anxiously for a response. "Well . . ." I began, shaking my head slightly. "Your mom certainly seems like an interesting person. I guess your dad believes in all that, too?"

"I dunno" he replied, shrugging his shoulders. "I guess he did. I never knew my father. They were only together that first night the met, when I was conceived."

"WHAT?" I asked incredulously. "All this stuff about 'love at fist sight', 'Shining Star', and they only got to spend one night together?"

"My dad shipped out to Viet Nam the next morning" he replied. "That's what he was doing in San Francisco. He'd been drafted, and was being shipped over to Viet Nam. My mom told me she begged him not to go; tried to convince him to desert, told him she'd go to Canada with him. He didn't really believe in or agree with the war, but he told her he had to go. He said it was 'the right thing to do', to answer his country's 'call to duty'. He promised her he would come back to her. He was over there less than a month when he was killed. Some enemy ambush or something."

"I'm sorry" I began. "But, listen, I need to . . ."

"Yeah, I was sorry, too" he began, cutting me off. "I felt kind of angry about it - that I never got to know my dad, and they he and mom only got to have one night together. I asked mom 'what so great about meeting your Shining Star, if you only get to have one night?' My mom told me it was all worth it, that it's better to enjoy one night with your Shining Star than to search for your Shining Star your whole life and not find him."

"I'm really sorry" I began, "But listen, uh . . ."

"Ryan" he said cutting me off.

"Huh?" I said.

"My name. My name is Ryan, Ryan Farrell. What's yours?"

"Uh, Chad" I replied. "So, look . . . Ryan. You seem like you're really a nice guy and all . . . and I really wouldn't want to disappoint you. You seem to think I'm some kind of Knight in Shining Armor or something, and I promise you I'm not. And, I really need to be going."

"Shining Star" Ryan corrected me. "You're my Shining Star. And, you know, I'm really surprised it's you. I mean, I don't know if that means I'm gay or whatever. I'm not big on labels. I really haven't had that much sex before; I'm not big on sleeping around just for the fuck of it. I've been waiting for my Shining Star. When I turned around in the car as we were leaving and looked in your eyes, it was like my mom was right next to me. I could hear her voice so clear: 'When you meet your Shining Star, you'll know it immediately. Embrace what you feel in your heart, embrace the love that you feel, and welcome your Shining Star into your life. Don't let him get away.'"

"Oh?" I said, my sarcasm returning. "So your mom calls you on your cell phone and tells you 'Here he is, son. Here's your Shining Star. That hustler selling his ass on the street over there. There's your Shining Star!'?"

"I wish she could call me on the phone" Ryan said in a tone of deep sadness. "She's dead too. She died about a year and a half ago. Cervical cancer."

I stared at him blankly. "This guy can't be for real" I thought to myself. "I can't believe this stuff he's feeding me about 'love at first sight', and 'Shining Star'. I've never met anyone remotely like this guy before in my life; I didn't know such people fucking existed." As I continued to stare at him, I saw the sadness that had come into his eyes when he told about his mother change to anxiousness as he awaited a response from me.

"I'm so sorry" I said softly, my resistance melting. "I'm sorry about both your mom and dad, and I'm sorry I've been kind of a jerk to you."

"That's Ok" he assured me brightly. "I knew you wouldn't trust me at first. I could see it in your eyes. I knew I would have to earn your trust. So, I need to let you know I haven't been completely truthful with you. I wasn't completely truthful when I said I 'thought' I was in love with you. I wasn't completely truthful when I told you I 'thought' you were my Shining Star. I knew it. I knew it the first moment I looked into your eyes that you were my Shining Star, and that I was madly in love with you. And I love you more each second I get to be with you."

I fought it fiercely, but my eyes began to moisten. "This can't be fucking happening" I tried to convince myself.

"And," he continued. "I was pretty sure you were a hustler. I mean, when you look a little close, your outfit is pretty outrageous. It definitely shows off your finer features."

We both chuckled in relief from tension between us.

"Uh, I hope you're not going to be mad . . ." he began. "But, I think you lost your customer." He jerked his head toward were Mister Attorney had been standing. He was gone.

"No, I'm not mad" I replied. "I'm kinda glad, in a way. I don't feel like working anymore tonight. You want to go grab a burger and fries, maybe get to know each other a little? I'm sure I can convince you I'm no 'Shining Star'."

"Sure!" he replied happily. "I'm starving! But, I'm vegetarian. Let's go some place I can get a salad."

"Of course he's a vegetarian" I thought to myself. "What else could he be?"

"The Stardust Late Night Buffet" I suggested. "They have a great salad bar, and I can chow down on some disgusting animal protein at the buffet."

Ryan rattled on incessantly as we ate. He was a junior at UC Berkley, a double major in Environmental Studies and Urban Planning. Wants to save the fucking planet, of course! He loved spending summers in Northern California at the large farm his mom had bought, and now was his. He stays in the small old farmhouse, planning and supervising the subdivision. He's developing lots and builds houses completely self-sufficient in green energy. He couldn't wait for summer; he loved life on the farm, away from the city and the noise. He kept pressing to know about me, and I ended up telling him about Brad and Colin, and what happened when someone slipped me the roofie. He got really mad, insisting that I find out who did it and turn them in so they couldn't do it to someone else. He insisted angrily that I fight for my job back. He kept trying to slip his hand under the table onto my leg. I kept brushing it off. I can't handle public display of affection. I mean, yeah, sure, I hustle my ass on The Strip. But, that doesn't mean I'm some political gay activist or something! The more he talked, the more he told me about his life, what he thought and how he felt about things, the more fascinated I became. I had never met anyone remotely like him before. He was the eternal optimist, a refreshing contrast to my complete cynicism. He seemed so perfect, so self-confident. I kept wondering what he could possibly see in someone like me. As he rambled on and on, I came to know I wanted him in my life. Finally, we ran of things to talk about.

"So," Ryan said. "It's getting late . . ."

"Yeah," I agreed. "It's getting late." I looked into his eyes, and saw the anxious trepidation he felt as he awaited the news of his fate. It made him seem vulnerable, human, instead of a self-confident Savior of the Planet. I realized that inside that self- confident exterior he too was sad, and alone. I realized at that moment that he needed me as badly as I had come to realize I needed him.

"So, now that we've gotten to know each other a little better" I began slowly, "are you going to come home with me and make slow, mad passionate love to me and then fuck my brains out like you promised?"

He kissed me! He fucking kissed me, right on the lips, right there in the middle of the Stardust Late Night Buffet! I hesitated, then kissed him back, and let him hold my hand.

I did a lot of "firsts" that night. I'd never brought anyone home to my apartment; I'd certainly never spent the night with a guy - or anybody - before. I'd never made love to anyone, nor had love made to me. Kissing, touching, holding, embracing, exploring each other's bodies with our lips and our tongues. We tossed and turned and caressed and explored for hours, until each of us new every inch of each other's body. I had certainly had my brains fucked out before, but never like that. When Ryan was inside me, it was if we were as one, two bodies, two beings twisting and twining as one, writhing in bliss, until we climaxed together, our combined essence exploding into a billion points of brilliant light, a billion Shining Stars.

I always wake up slowly in the mornings. I sleep soundly, and my first few moments of consciousness in the mornings usually began with "Who am I? Where am I? What did I do last night?" When I awoke that next morning after meeting Ryan, I awoke more slowly than usual, feeling better, happier than I'd ever felt in my life. "What? Why? " I mused slowly as my mind struggled with consciousness. And then I felt the warmth next to me. "Oh yeah! Ryan!" I turned to see him sleeping beside me, his face the most beautiful sight I'd ever seen. I kissed him gently. His eyes opened, and he looked into mine.

"I love you!" I whispered, surprised at how easily those words came straight from my heart.

"That's good," he answered back, smiling. "'Cause I'm so totally in love with you it fucking hurts!"

So, I don't hustle and work the Strip anymore. One reason is because I don't sleep with anyone but Ryan. We're in a 'committed relationship', as Ryan calls it. I go up to Berkley and stay with Ryan every other weekend, and the other weekends he comes down to Vegas and stays with me. We really miss each during the week, but, summer break is nearly here. We're spending the summer together at his farm in Northern California. I guess I'll learn all about environmentally aware planned development. All I care about is not having to wake up a single morning without Ryan beside me. I guess some people might say means I'm gay. Oh, I dunno. I'm not big on labels, but I really don't care anymore if all of this means I'm gay. The only thing that really matters to me is that Ryan is one-half of my life.

The other reason I don't work the Strip is anymore is because I got my job back as sports medicine assistant. At Ryan's insistent nagging, I appealed my dismissal to the University Diversity Committee. The coach agreed to meet with me, and I explained to him what happened when someone slipped me a roofie, and how it gave me a bad reputation. I assured him no one would ever have to worry about me 'coming on to them', and if he would just give me another chance I would earn his and the entire team's confidence and respect. He agreed to put it to a vote by the team members. I guess some guys were complaining about having a 'homo' around while they were dressing or undressing in the locker room. Others complained they wouldn't be able to handle it if some 'fag came on to them' in the shower or something. I heard that Brad got up and gave a really good speech about how I'd been his roommate, and I'd never ever remotely tried to come on to him (true), and how he was 'proud' consider me as a friend. Then Jerry Tucker got up and made a speech about he thought I was the best assistant they'd ever had, and he had no qualms about having a massage from me. And he added that, while he was sure there would never be any problems, if any of the guys were afraid they couldn't handle themselves against a little 5'7", 140 lb. guy, then he sure as hell didn't want them backing him up against the 6'4", 300 lb. linemen of Brigham Young in a game. I guess both Brad and Jerry were pretty good; the team voted unanimously that they wanted back as a part of the team.

Things didn't work out so well for Colin. He's in prison. He went out on a date with a girl and slipped her a roofie. Apparently he was really rough on her when he rammed his horse dick up her back door. Her roommate found her unconscious and bleeding in bed and called 911. The girl remembered enough to tell the police she had been out with Colin. They raided the condo and found more roofies in his room. He got 25 years. He may get out in 10, with good behavior. He actually wrote Brad a letter about his gang rape in prison. I guess most other inmates hate rapists, figuring it could have been their sister or daughter that was raped. About 10 other inmates ganged up on Colin in the showers and they all had a go at him; he needed medical attention afterward. He actually admitted to Brad in his letter that he's now "punked himself out" to a really big black guy, to protect him from the other inmates. Rape is a vile crime. To me, the theft of one's personal dignity is second only to the theft of one's life. But, I guess if a rape had to happen, it couldn't have happened to a more deserving person than Colin.

I moved back in the condo with Brad when Colin left. Brad and Ryan even seem to like each other. Ryan didn't like Brad at first, because of what Brad made me do, but eventually conceded that Brad wasn't the "worst person in the world". Brad confessed that he was a little jealous of Ryan at first, because "he really liked me". Brynda dumped Brad for another guy, and Brad has a regular thing going with Kyle, another football player on the team who had moved in and took over my old room. It's all very "hush, hush", of course. Well, outside the condo it's "hush, hush"; inside the condo I hear those two going at almost every night. I wasn't surprised when Brad admitted to me that he had come to realize he was "at least bi-sexual". Nobody can fuck someone with the intensity that Brad used to fuck me without feeling something for the other person. But, it blew me away I realized it was Kyle who was fucking Brad. Brad turned a little red when I asked him if he liked being a 'Tight End' better than being Defensive End. "Well, you seemed to enjoy it so much, I figure I had to gave it a try at least once" he told me. "It DOES feel pretty good having something big and hard up there, banging that prostate thing, and it feels REAL good to just lay there and take it and let the other guy do all the work for a change." Brad turned even redder when confided in me that he wasn't so sure that he wasn't becoming more of a 'wide receiver' than a 'tight end.' "Kyle's hung like a horse and fucks like a madman" he admitted embarrassedly. "Kyle and I get along with each other really well, and neither of us is seeing anyone else right now. Who knows? We both just end up permanently playing for the 'other team'. "

So, that's it; that's the rest of my story. Thanks for listening. My point is this: A lot of times life really sucks. But, life is always perfect. It just doesn't always seem like at the time. The next time your life seems less than perfect, just remember: Your Shining Star could be waiting just around the next corner.

The Conclusion.