That Was Then

Title: "That Was Then, But This...? Part four. Date: October 17, 2000 Contact: Ritch Christopher at ballmusic69@hotmail.com Nifty Archives: GayMale/HighSchool

This is the continuation of a gay story. Is contains graphic descriptions and phrases. If you are underage or find this offensive, please exit now.

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This story began on a date five years after high school and digressed to the story by telling what happened in "The Beginning". This story continues in the flashback....

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THE END OF "THE BEGINNING":

I knew this Monday at school would be unlike any I had ever experienced. It was confrontation time...with Lance,...myself,...maybe the course of the rest of my life. I was sure, in my mind, that Lance had been unfaithful to me with Kyle. This was the unpardonable sin. I suspected he might have fucked Dee, his current "cover-up" girlfriend. This, I couldn't understand. Lance and I, both felt the same way, did the same things, experienced the same sexual pleasures, and yet...how could he desire sex with a girl? I The idea of fucking a vagina disgusted me. I had never seen one up close, but the pictures I had seen in the "dirty" books made me think that the female anatomy looked like a raw oyster that had slipped off the half-shell. And I had noticed, when going out with Brenda, if she were having her period, she always had that fishy odor. Nope. No girls for me...I liked guys. Didn't Lance? I mean, what about him and Kyle.

These were all stupid thoughts going from side to side in my brain like a pinball....TILT!!!...What about Dan? What the hell had I done. I had tried to get even with Lance and wound up being screwed by a man twice my age. WHOM had really been the "unfaithful" lover...me or Lance? I know, damned well, that ANY act that Lance and Kyle might have done, couldn't compare to my transgressions with Dan.

And what about Dan? Did I feel ANYTHING for him? Did he feel anything for me...or was I just a "trick", a term I had read about. Boy, I was a trick all right...a card trick, dealt from the bottom of the deck. Was this an ending, a middle, or a new beginning. I would try to come to terms with this as soon as I saw Lance. We had fourth period choir together, there would be no time to talk, but lunch would be next.

Choir came...we looked at each, smiled, sang...and choir went. Now it was the dreaded lunch time. I had butterflies the size of pigeons flying around in my stomach. I entered the cafeteria...and guess what?... No Lance. I asked Mike Curtis if he had seen him. He said he had seen Lance going toward the parking lot with that junior, named Kyle. EXPLOSION!!! THAT DID IT!!! Lunch was over, the bell rang and I hustled down the hall toward the Physics lab, my next class. About halfway there, I saw Kyle...no Lance. My rage had built. I rushed over to Kyle and slammed him against a locker.

"What's going on, Mark?", he asked in astonishment.

"That's what I want to know, Kyle, what the fuck IS going on."

"I have no idea what you're talking about", he yelled, as a crowd was gathering.

"What the fuck is going on between you and Lance, you piece of rich shit? Are you having sex with him?", I screamed, not caring who heard.

"Hell, no! I'm no queer...Is that what this is all about? You think Lance and I have been queering each other?...Is Lance queer?...Are YOU? Are you, Mark? Are you and Lance queers. Are you both, cocksuckers?"

I was inflamed."That is none of your goddamned business! What IS my business is, are you and Lance doing some private cocksucking?"

"Get away from me, you fucking faggot! Lance came over to see me about buying a watch I was trying to sell. He was buying it for a friend. I guess that friend was YOU, you asshole."

My rage subsided. My face was flushed. I started coming back to reality, noticing there were about 20 classmates, standing around us, witnessing this gladiatorial spectacle. I know, when I looked around, Brenda was there, so was Dee, Mike, Walter, Ernest, Kent, Sally, George. They ALL had heard...and now they ALL knew...knew, just about EVERYTHING! Hell, I might as well have gone to the office and announced it over the P.A. system.

Mike came over and put his arm around my shoulder and said, "Come on, Mark, you're gonna be late for Physics. Come on, let's go."

My body was paralyzed. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get my legs to move. Why couldn't I just drop dead, right now, to quote Sandra Dee, "in front of God and everybody"?

Somehow, Mike got me headed in the right direction and escorted me into the lab. I dared not make eye contact with anyone. What would Lance say when he heard what I had done. I was ruined. He would be ruined, reputation-wise. Our parents would find out about the three year "secret" we had been harboring. Well, there was always suicide, or I could run away from home. I couldn't be like Scarlett and think about that tomorrow, I had to think about it today...here and now.

Class was over. I cut my last class, slipped out the door, crossed the street and saw a park bench, just over the knoll where no one could see me. I was beginning to understand the true meaning of manic-depression. Last night with Dan had been the most exhilarating and today had been the worst day of my life. It didn't take long for the last period to be over and school would be out for the day. How long could I sit there and hide?...a day...a year, maybe?

I had over-estimated my camouflage because when I looked up, Lance was running toward me. As he ran closer, I heard him screaming, "YOU SON OF A BITCH!! YOU BASTARD! YOU ASSHOLE! YOU FUCKING FAIRY! Do you realize what you have done? You have DESTROYED me!!"

His fists were swinging. He hit me in the side of the neck. I fell backwards, and he straddled my chest and started beating my face with well-placed punches. He hit me again and again, tears streaming down his face, calling me every name he could think of. I made no effort to resist. I deserved this. This wasn't even the "good kind of pain". It hurt like hell. I was bleeding buckets out of my nose and mouth. My eyes burned. Maybe he would go ahead and kill me. I would be better off dead.

Soon, Mike, Walter, and Ernest, whom had been looking for me, came over the little hill and saw what was happening. They ran, excitedly, and pulled Lance off me and Walter and Ernest managed to pull him toward the parking lot and his car. He got in his car and drove off as James Dean would've.

Mike pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket and began wiping the blood from my face.

"Need a ride home?" he offered.

"I need a ride but not home...If I ask you a favor would you take me somewhere I want to go?"

"Sure, guy, you name it! The Alps? The Grand Canyon? The moon?" he said, trying to lighten the mood. "Where do you want to go."

"Take me to a friend's house across the river. I need to clean up before I think about going home."

I didn't tell him where we were going I just gave him directions. When we arrived, I thanked him and got out of his car. He drove off and I slowly walked up the driveway leading to Dan Halpern's house. He wasn't home, but I sat there 'til 6:30 when he drove up.

When he got out of the car and saw me, he looked aghast, "My God, what..?"

I stopped him. "Don't ask. Just take me inside and hold me. I need to be held."

And as Annie Oakley sang, "I Got Lost In His Arms". I felt safe. I didn't know for how long, but for the moment, I felt safe.

I showered. He took some gauze and peroxide and cleaned my wounds. He brought me a beer. I sat in silence a long time before I could find the words to speak. He held me and kissed the side of my head as I started telling him a long, long story.

"Don't you think you ought to call your, mom? She'll have the police out looking for you everywhere."

I shook my head, "No."

"Give me the number and I'll call her and tell her you're with me and you're OK".

I agreed and told him my number.

"I think I scared her to death, when I told her who I was. She assumed I was calling as a reporter from the TV station to announce you were dead", he laughed. I spent the night at his house. No sex. He just held me...what I needed most.

I didn't go to school the next day...nor the next...nor the rest of the week, for that matter. My mother came on the second day to pick me up. I made her not to say anything until I was ready to talk. Maybe, I could face the world by next Monday.

Lance's parents were frantic. He came home from school "that day", packed a bag, got in his car and left. The relationship between our parents was strained, as to be expected. It was a month later, that his parents learned he had left town and joined the army. I never saw or heard from him again until five years later, when I made "that call".

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NOW, BACK TO THE BEGINNING OF THE STORY:

As I sat there, remembering the beginning and the sour note it ended on. I grew more anxious, as I knew he would soon be there...my "first" love...The one I had loved more than life and hated more than death to ruin his life, as I had. He just MIGHT come in the door swinging his fists, as I had last seen him, five years ago. I knew he was a soldier, now, with more combative expertise. Should I get a ball bat to keep near me, in case I had to defend myself, or should I just call him back and tell him not to come.

This was insane. We're young adults now...no longer in high school. Lance is married with two kids. He's grown up. Why should I sit here and worry? He would come in, we would talk, and then in an hour, he would leave, That's all.

I went to the bathroom and took a long shower, letting the hot water pound on my neck to get rid of those nervous knots. Jerk-off! That would relax me! Considering the guest I was about to host, fantasizing and jerking off was the LAST thing I should be thinking about doing. Have a drink? Hell, no. I still don't like the taste of that stuff. I think there's some cigarettes in the bedside table. I'll smoke. I mean, hell, everyone knows cigarettes are good for relaxation...then why do people smoke, AFTER sex? I wish I could just use the clicker and turn my mind OFF.

It was 1:55 and I heard a car drive up. The car door shut and I heard footsteps coming up those thirteen stairs. The doorbell rang. I heaved one last sigh, and opened the door. That's when I saw him for the first time in five years. I saw Lance.

He was a little older looking, had a "flat-top" U.S. Army haircut. His face was tanned which correlated with his dark brown hair and brows. And those eyes...those beautiful green eyes...that straight nose, and those moist firm lips. He had filled out his six foot frame, a bit, weighing, I guess about 160 to 165 pounds. He was so goddamned handsome. I felt the way Mona Freeman felt when Tab Hunter came home on leave from the army in "Battle Cry". There's that fucking book and movie coming to mind again.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi,", as I put out to shake his hand. I guess I was awe-struck by his military shirt and pants...no tie...just informal military. I saw three stripes on his sleeve. He had done well. He looked good. He had survived my destruction.

"Come in, come in."

He came inside the living room and sat in an arm chair in the corner of the room, avoiding all contact with the couch where I might have joined him. He looked around the room, sizing up its contents, perhaps to see my financial status quo. There was a definite strained feeling feeling between. Who would be the first to talk?...And talk about what? Finally, I broke the tension.

"How's the Army?"

"Fine."

"You said you were in Italy?"

"Yeah, just outside Rome."

"Like it there?"

"Yeah, the country is great. Especially the people...and of course, the food. I've put on a couple of pounds."

"You look good, though"

(Long silence)

"You said over the phone you were married and had two kids, now."

"Yeah, Karen. Her dad was my captain at Ft. Ord."

"Where's that?"

"Couple of miles from Monterey, California."

"The kids?"

"I have a boy and a girl. Sharon is three and Steve is eighteen months. They're really something."

"They must be, if they are yours", I said, trying to warm up the atmosphere.

"You're married, too?" he asked. "Any kids?"

"Well, technically, we're not married, just committed to a serious relationship for the past two years."

"Do I know her?"

Still hedging the true topic of identity, I replied, "No, we met in New York. Graduated from the same college. We were doing great there in theatre, and then I got sick, couldn't work, so I decided to come home to see if I could get well. We've been here almost a year now. This, staph, this throat infection that wouldn't respond to antibiotics finally cleared up after five doctors and two throat specialists. I'm all well now. I'm working, playing cocktail piano at the Castle lounge. It pays the bills."

"Did you ever "get on stage" in New York?"

"Yeah, I did seven off-broadway, short lived shows. I got a job as an assistant stage manager to a big musical, just before I got that damned throat infection. I had it for almost six month...lost 35 pounds in the process."

"Think, you'll go back to New York?"

"Yeah, as soon as I build up the cash flow. It's so goddamned expensive to live in the City. I had a 1 1/2 room, rent-control, brown stone apartment on West 85th, just off Central Park West, I was paying $140 a month for. When I left, the new landlord was asking $1250 for it. Maybe I can find a cardboard box to sleep in, if I go back."

"And your wife...what's her name...what does she do?"

A pregnant pause...ready to miscarry....

"Lance", I hesitantly replied, "my "wife's" name is Brad." A wave of surprise flashed over his face. I continued, "I didn't go you route. I could never be straight, or even "bi". I've been gay all my life. The last day I saw you, I met with this guy who made me come to grips with my sexuality. I cried in his arms, that whole night. He knew I was in torture and the next day he locked me in his bathroom and told me not to come out until I knew who and what I was. 'Decide if you like green beans, Colgate or Crest toothpaste, jazz or rock and roll, men, women, boys, girls, EVERYTHING to know about yourself.' I stayed in his bath room most of the day, and I finally knocked on the door and told him I was ready. The first thing I said was, 'I don't really like green beans and I prefer the flavor of Crest...and yes, I can admit I am gay.' I had known it since I was in grammar school. I just didn't know how to cope with the idea of being different and not being accepted. I, just wasn't involved with you sexually. I was, truly, deeply, honestly, in love with you."

He waited for me to say something else, but I out-waited him.

"I," he tried to begin. "I...loved you, too. But I wasn't gay. I don't know what I was..."bi", maybe, but not gay."

"I know," I said. "It was too much to hope for. I mean, I, in my dreams and nightly fantasies, I always picture you and me, not Brad and me. Brad was not my first lover. Before him was Jeff, followed by Rich...and then New York, there was Ian and when I couldn't pay my rent or had food to eat, I found out how to earn a fast twenty bucks. I turned many tricks to help pay my tuition."

"You hustled? You mean, you were a whore?"

"A lonely, hungry whore, I guess."

"Wow, I never expected you to do anything like that."

"Maybe if I hadn't been so fucking jealous and suspicious of you...of you and Kyle...and if I hadn't lashed out at Kyle, kept my cool...both of our lives, mine and yours, would have turned out differently."

He stood up. Turned his back to me, put one hand behind his head and rubbed his neck.

"I don't know what to say."

"I know what I want you to say...not now...but some day, when you can...I want you to say you forgive me for what I did to you. I am so sorry. I was so sorry I was alive. I have lived that day over and over in my mind and wished I had been hit by a bus or fell off a building, rather than destroying you as I did. Lance, I changed your life, that day. You missed school, college, your friends, your family all because of me. It was just that I loved you so much. You were all in the world that I had to love. I couldn't bear the thought of losing you to anyone."

He finally turned to face me and said, "Jeff, Rich, Ian, hundreds o f tricks...when did you STOP loving me?"

(pause)

"I never did."

A tear started forming in his right eye. It grew bigger and slowly glistened down that smooth cheek, followed by another. Soon he was crying quietly. I couldn't decide to approach him or not. I was puzzled what the tears meant. I cautiously walked toward him and put one hand on his shoulder. This must have signaled an invitation to him because he suddenly embraced me and cried, putting his head next to my neck. I began letting a tear roll down my face. I let him release any pent-up emotions he might have been building up for the past five years as I had. A few moments later, his crying subsided, the way a child's would from a skinned knee. I took my right hand under his chin and lifted his face to look into my eyes, and I leaned forward and kissed him. This you won't believe. That was the first and only time we had ever kissed. We had had wild sex...hugged each other...touched and ran our hands and fingers in the most private places...but our lips had never touched.

I waited, waiting to be hit, flung across the floor, something violent...but nothing...just a questioning expression in his eyes. Dare I kiss him again and risk the consequences or had the one time been enough? I decided to be brave and venture a second one. Once again, I leaned in and press my lips to his, this time a little firmer, my mouth slightly opened as I tried to enter his mouth with my tongue.

He put up a tiny resistance at first. This was "new" ground for him...but then he slowly parted his lips and let his tongue touch mine. We began to hold each other closer and tighter. He was responding like a ravenous puppy. Our tongues were jousting each other's to see who could get inside to probe the mouth. I let him win, as his delicious tongue slipped in my mouth, trying to find my throat.

I pulled back a little. I had to say something to him.

"I want you to know I love you. I still love you. And I've always loved you. You were my first. You will always be the first. You have to know that I love you."

And then without a hint of hesitation, but with a glimmer of embarrassment, he replied, "And I love you, too", before he pulled me close to kiss ME, this time. His hand reached down between my legs, searching for my now, hardened cock. He explored and groped and began reaching for my zipper. He, nervously, unzipped my pants and found the grail he was in quest of. He pulled it out of my pants and stroked me twice before sinking to his knees.

"Let me have that thing. Let me have your big cock."

He, hungrily, put the entire erection in his mouth and deep- throated me. He was like an animal. He was plunging so fast and furious that I knew I could only last about 30 seconds. I tried to pull back an d said, "Wait, wait, wait! I'm close. I'm ready to cum."

"Go ahead. Shoot. I want you to. I've wanted this for years."

And "shoot", I did. I thought every fluid in my body was coming out of my dick, all at the same time. He gulped, gagged, swallowed, licked, until I was drained. He still wanted more. Instead, now that he was braver in his conquest, he stood and kissed me, once more, feeding my juiced the way a mother bird would.

"Lance," I offered, "Would you like to take off your clothes and go to bed and make love. There are so many things we never did, or were to naive to try in our teen years?"

"No. I don't want a quick hour with you. I want to make love to you , a whole night. Is there any place we could meet, where Brad you won't get in trouble with Brad. I know this is asking a lot, but I only have three more days of leave."

I get off at 10:00, tonight. Go down to the Sunny Motel on Baker Boulevard, get a room. Register under the name of Howard Kramer and I can be there by 10:30. Don't worry about Brad. I can think of some excuse. I mean, I don't have a degree in drama for nothing...You didn't cum. Would you like to, before you leave?"

"No, my love, my first love, I'll save it 'til tonight and pop your insides with it. I better go now, and make up an excuse at my house." He kissed me a peck and said, "See you tonight. I love you."

"I love you, too."

He left. I straighten up the room, my clothes, and my life. I didn't mention his visit to Brad. I still hadn't come up with an excuse I was satisfied with. I would call Brad from work or "later" when I had formulated my "story".

I went to work at the bar and for three hours, I played love songs on the piano. The crowd loved them. Maybe, they had dates later, too. A t 10:25, I went to the motel and asked the young, handsome looking twink of a desk clerk, if a Howard Kramer had checked in, yet.

"No, not yet." the little flirt said.

"Thanks, I wait".

"Would you like something, while you're waiting?...Coffee?...Tea?" I waited for him to conclude with "Me", but thank God he didn't say it or I would have burst out laughing.

I waited until 11:30...then midnight. Surely, Lance knew where the motel was. The plan was clear. Oh God, something must have happened. In his nervous stater, he must've had a wreck. Now, I was in a panic. I had sat in my car in the lot until 2:00AM, smoking. I, finally, drove home and saw that Brad was still up.

"Where the hell have you been? Why didn't you call? I've been worried to death!"

"I meant to, but one of the kids at work, needed a ride home. He lived way out on Wellington Boulevard and then I ran out of gas on the way home and had to walk five miles to find an all night service station, then, five miles back. My feet are sore and I'm worn out."

"Poor, baby, let's go to bed and I'll give you a massage."

Nothing would relax me, nor put my mind to rest until I knew what had happened to Lance.

The next morning, at 9:00, after Brad had gone to work. I called Lance's house. His mom answered the phone.

"Is Lance, there, Mrs. Parker?"

"No, Mark, he left last night...something about a flight mix up. I don't know why he couldn't have stayed three more days. He was having such a good time, being home."

"Did he leave a message for me?"

"No, I'm sorry Mark".

Lance had gone. "Gone", such a little word that could change lives.

Gone.

I never heard from him again...

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This was a work of fiction, based on loose truths. Mark has other stories with Dan, Jeff, Rich, Ian, and the streets of New York. If you would like to hear about them, write me at ballmusic69hotmail.com