Lost and Found
by Jack Kendle
Chapter 4
Tuesday came around. I had been restless and irritable since Saturday, snapping at the kids and trying to have as little to do with Hannah as I could, without being overtly hostile. My nerves were frayed. I slept badly, waking often after hot dreams about boys - and one boy in particular - and hoping that my years of concealment wouldn't be jeopardised if I started to talk in my sleep. I was worried that, in spite of my care, I would let something slip and the cat would be out of the bag.
So, on Tuesday morning, as I showered and shaved I tried to calm myself down. I shaved particularly carefully and went to more trouble than usual trying to find just the right clothes to wear; something not too fusty and old-fashioned but not too casual either. I was like a high-school kid before a big date! I told Hannah I would be later than usual as I had some extra coaching to do.
"Oh, who's that then?" she asked - not that she was particularly interested. I think it was more to pump me for information and basically to check that I wasn't having an affair!
"Just the Nielsen kid", I answered in what I hoped was a neutral tone. I felt like Peter denying Christ – just the Nielsen kid. He wasn't just a kid: he was Leo, someone special, beautiful, sexy, attractive, vulnerable, young; someone I wanted to hold close and protect; the boy of my dreams; my adorable lioncub.
"Who, Cat?" asked Hannah, being, I thought, deliberately obtuse.
"No her kid brother, Leo", I responded. "He's just come up into the senior orchestra and has asked for extra coaching."
"Is that wise?" asked my wife, looking sharply at me. "Won't that be setting a precedent? You'll be getting all the kids after you for free lessons, if you're not careful."
"Don't worry," I responded. "His parents have offered to pay and it's not as though it will be many lessons, like I told him. Just a few, to get him going."
"Hmm," she murmured. I could almost hear the cogs in her brain whirring, processing this new information. Hannah can be very canny sometimes and I do believe she can sometimes read me like a book. Well, not totally, otherwise, she would have sussed me out years ago. But she still makes me nervous sometimes. Typical paranoid me!
"I'll be back in time for dinner," I said and left for work.
I had the day to plan how was going to act with Leo. I decided I would have to leave the running to him, entirely. I could not, must not risk doing anything inappropriate with him. I would have to just hope I could cover my feelings and be as professional as I could whilst I was around him. I was still both nervous and excited as six o'clock approached. Still like the kid on a first date. This is silly! I thought. I'm a grown man and he's a kid. I can deal with this. Just keep calm!
***
I had been practicing for about half an hour in the music room, when I heard a gentle tap on the door. Looking at my watch, I saw it was 6pm on the dot. This was it; the moment I had been both looking forward to... and dreading, since Saturday.
"Come in" I called, and the door opened.
What can one say when the most beautiful thing in all creation steps into your vision? How can I describe what went through me in that instant when Leo appeared in the doorway? If you have ever been in love, then you must know that feeling: you are rooted to the spot, tongue-tied, sweating yet shivering... ALL those clichés... but all those clichés don't come close. I felt light-headed, hot and cold, happy and sad, wanting to laugh and cry at the same time. All this in the few seconds it took for the vision to register in my conscious mind... all this and much, much more. I know this sounds like a really cheap novel, but that was really how I felt. He looked like I had died and gone to Heaven. He was wearing another skimpy tee shirt, and this time, not those awful baggy skateboarders' pants, but Levi 501's, which hugged his slim hips with the button-fly which I just love, and those super-white trainers. All I registered was a dazzling image of gold, white and blue, which materialised before me.
"Hi, Jack, you remember you were going to give me some coaching?" His bright face a question mark.
"Sure, Leo, I hadn't forgotten. Come on in, get unpacked and warm up. I'll go and get us some water." Any excuse to be able to find a bit of time to recover my composure! I went to the staff-room and filled a pitcher with water, picked up a couple of glasses and some cookies on the way.
I returned to the music room. The door was ajar and from inside, I heard familiar music ... my music; the piece he had given a name to, Where am I? I stopped in the doorway, put down the tray I was carrying and watched as Leo, unaware of my presence, played his heart out.
He stood three-quarters on to me, his golden head bent over his violin, which he cradled beneath his chin as if it were a lover. He stood with a graceful ease, moving slightly in rhythm to the music. His eyes were closed and even from where I stood, I could see his long lashes. The silken hair of his hung low over his brow. My eyes roamed over his body: down over the defined chest, flat stomach, and the unbelievably slim hips – teenaged boys are the most beautiful things in creation. Why do we then go on to get paunches, bald and ... old? I gazed at the curve of his butt encased in denim. What a picture was there! I could discern his butt-cheeks, flexing and unflexing as he gently rocked on his feet. Unable to stop myself, unwilling to stop myself, my eyes rested on his crotch, which the jeans he was wearing defined in a tantalising way. He seemed to have a respectable package for a just-turned sixteen year old, in fact, I wondered whether or not he was hard... the buttons on his fly seemed to stretch slightly and I had a mental vision of me teasing those buttons open, one by one...
He continued his playing, totally unaware of my presence. I did not want to interrupt this communion of his, of ours, and as the music unfolded, I closed my eyes and thought back to the last time Pete and I had made love, before he left my life for ever.
He had phoned me, two days before he was due to leave. I could hear the emotion in his voice. 'Can I come over? I need to see you. My mum says I can stay over, but tomorrow I have to be at home, helping to pack. Please, Jack, can I?'
'Pete, you don't have to ask, just come over here. Now!'
I hung up and thought how unfair life was. A few short months, and now my only love in the world was leaving me. I was heartbroken.
My mother had guessed why I was so sad. Although I hadn't said anything about Pete and me, now that I look back, I think she already knew, knew more than we thought she did. I told her that Pete was coming over and that he was staying over, which was a normal occurrence, so she only nodded and said, 'You're going to miss him, aren't you, love?' I nodded miserably. 'Well,' she said, 'let's give him a night to remember!' I looked quickly at her, wondering what she meant, half scared she had been reading my mind! 'I think loads of home-made pizza is the best'. My mum's pizzas were the best in the world; loads of pepperone, mushrooms, onions, cheese, tomatoes, and the pastry! Pete and I could eat those pizzas till they came out of our ears!
She smiled at me and said something I have never forgotten: 'One day, Jack, you'll be happy again. Just find yourself and then be yourself. I'm always here for you, sweetheart.' She gave me a quick hug and then, breaking the spell, sent me off: 'There's Pete now. Now get away with you and let me get on with my pastry. Dinner in an hour or so.' I hugged her back and ran to Pete who poked his head around the door. 'Hi, Mrs Kendle' he called, and then we were off upstairs to my room and each other.
How many times had we made love, how many times had we stripped each other? But each time was like the first, the wonderment, the awesome feeling. To explore each other's body totally, revelling each and every time in the beauty of the other. Pete and I were similar in appearance, both brown haired and brown-eyed. We could have been brothers, but Pete had that extra something; I thought he was the most beautiful, sexiest thing in the world. His features were finer than mine and his smile was so infectious, lighting up his whole face. He was very popular at school, and the girls literally queued up for him. He could have had his pick. In fact, I know that Pete slept with girls as well, but, as he said to me, 'they can't make love like we can!' I didn't mind 'sharing' my Pete... I knew that he would most likely end up basically straight. In fact he would occasionally mention some girl or other he was interested in and let me know if he had 'scored' or not. But our relationship was just us. I know for a fact that Pete didn't have anything sexual with other boys, I was the only one; we went back a long way and our friendship was solid and I really believe to this day that he did love me as I loved him. The difference being I was gay and he was loving for love's sake. I know he cared for me, but, as I say, he would eventually stop our relationship as he became seriously interested in a girl. However, we never got to that stage in our relationship because he moved away. If I rationalise, then I would probably say it was for the best. Otherwise, our relationship might have ended in another, more hurtful way. Separation was in retrospect the best thing. Now he was dead. My lovely, glorious, gentle, funny, sexy-sexy Pete.
I was just so lucky to have him here and now, we never talked about the future. Until the day he told me his family was moving. Then I realised for the first time in my life that things don't stay the same, we can't expect life to remain unchanging, as we would like it. We grow older and we don't always have control over our destiny. It was a cruel lesson to learn at fifteen or so. My Pete was leaving me. What would happen to me? I thought, selfishly. I would just wither and die, or so I thought. But Pete was with me, here, now and it was the here and now which mattered.
I locked my door, just in case, though I knew my mother wouldn't disturb us. I turned and we just melted into each other's arms, hugging tightly and we kissed, long and hard and deep. I could feel his cock grinding into mine as we tightened our embrace. Instantly hard, aching for release, our pelvic thrusting out of our control, I could feel the precum leaking into my boxers. The delicious agony of a massive hard-on, confined in clothing. Somehow or other we stripped each other's clothes off, breaking our kiss for as short a time as possible. We were breathing heavily, our animal passions and youthful, rampant lust overtaking our every fibre. I knelt before him, as I snapped the button on his jeans running my hand over the outline of his tool as I teased the zipper down with my teeth. I could smell his muskiness, as my nose ran past the wet spot on his white briefs, my tongue licking at the pulsing cock encased in cotton. Pete was moaning now, gently thrusting his crotch into my face. I slid his jeans down to his ankles and I stroked the inside of his thighs as my hands made their return journey towards their goal. I could feel Pete's knees tremble as I cupped his balls in one hand whilst the other began to slide under the waistband of his tight white briefs. I could see the head of his dick, dripping with precum, glistening, purple, so inviting. As the briefs came off, his throbbing cock sprang from its confinement. It was impossible to take my eyes off it. It didn't matter how often we had done exactly this, each time was like a revelation. Boys' cocks are the most beautiful things ever. Period. And Pete's was no exception. When flaccid, it hung thick and heavy over his plum-sized balls, which nestled in their nest of thick dark hair. Uncut, the foreskin covering the head, which, as he grew, emerged like a fleur-de-lis. The skin of his cock was darker than the rest of him and the veins were thick and very blue. I could gaze at Pete's cock forever, and must have spent hours examining it if I woke before he did, which I invariably did. I knew that cock probably better than I knew my own. I knew every wrinkle and ridge, exactly how his foreskin met the head, how the head flared and throbbed as he approached orgasm. How the piss-slit would open to disgorge the incredibly thick and copious ropes of cum his generous balls unleashed. He was about six inches or so erect and the feeling of his cock on my tongue or in my hand or within me is something I will remember until the day I die.
My tongue ran up his shaft, tasting the honey-sweet precum which flowed in a steady stream from his cockhead. I knew that neither of us could last very long, but it didn't matter if we came now... the wonders of teenage boys' ability to cum almost endlessly! Another thing that leaves us as we age, alas! I gently licked the glistening cockhead, running my tongue over his perineum. I felt Pete shudder; this wouldn't take long, I thought to myself; but I didn't want it to be over quite so soon! Teasing his cockhead with my tongue, I gently fondled his balls in my hand, rolling them between my fingers, feeling them moving as if they had a life of their own. I envisaged the millions and millions of sperm, churning away in those globes, getting ready to be expelled in a mad frenzied rush 'like lemmings over a cliff.' The unbidden image made me chuckle prompting Pete to ask what was 'so funny down there?' I looked up at him, past his proud cock which throbbed in time to his racing heart and just smiled. 'Nothing', I slurped between licks at his dripping cockhead. 'Please, Jack, finish me: I can't wait,' begged Pete and I was only too happy to oblige. I knew we had the whole night ahead for the serious lovemaking. So, bit-by-bit, my mouth closed over Pete's cock and as my lips closed around the shaft for suction, I gradually began the process of milking my lover's cock. I was aware of Pete's moans, I could feel his legs tremble, my lips and tongue and warm mouth all working together to give my lovely boy his release. Further and further down his shaft I went, until I felt his pubes tickle my nose. My hands were stroking his thighs, his balls and that lovely place between testes and anus. Pete's balls were drawing up inside and I could feel his cockhead begin to enlarge. He was breathing very fast in, short sharp gasps. This was the moment; I could feel Pete hold his breath as his cum began it's journey. I eased back up the shaft so as to have his cockhead on my tongue when the explosion arrived, so that I could taste the sweet nectar he was preparing to give me. That instant, just before cumming, there is a profound silence and then it is like the universe suddenly appearing and there all around are a thousand suns and at the moment of climax the supernovas all explode at once in a brilliant orgasm of light and a sound like an enormous orchestra. All this flashed through me in the instant before Pete exploded in my mouth unleashing torrents of sweet, thick white boycum. Spurt after spurt pistoned from him and I hungrily tried to swallow it all, but he was so generous in the gift of his seed that some began to leak from the corners of my mouth. He must have shot at least six or seven massive loads, before his orgasm slowly began to abate. I swallowed, sucked some more, to tease every last drop from my beloved, and Pete gradually came down from his high and the breathing started again, fast and furious as if he had just run the hundred metres. Gradually, his legs stopped their trembling, his cock began slowly to soften and I reluctantly released it from my mouth. Pete sank to his knees before me and we kissed again, so that he could have a taste of what he had just given me. I felt his hand reach to my own cock, which throbbed in an ecstatic agony of deprival. His thumb, moistened by my precum ran over the head and over my shaft. Thus lubricated, Pete began to stroke me. It needed so little, I was on the very edge the whole time I had been sucking him. It only took about ten gentle strokes or so and I too was experiencing the Nirvana from where Pete had so recently descended. I came strongly over Pete's chest and stomach and hand, my cum pearly white against his tanned body. We hadn't even broken our kiss and I was suffocating! With my orgasm, we parted mouths and then each of us sat back on our ankles and looked long and deeply into each other's eyes. His hand was still on my softening cock, as he gently squeezed every last drop from it, occasionally putting his fingers to his mouth, to taste me. Those few minutes, after that incredible thing, the orgasm, is like another type of space: this time, it's warm, like a bath, and the lights are gentle. It's comfortable, safe, quiet and those moments seemed filled with gentle, eternal music.
***
Music.
No music.
Silence.
More silence.
I opened my eyes. No Pete.
Leo.
He was standing stock still, violin in hand and just looking at me.
Oh my God! How long had I been in that rêverie? Had I said anything? I didn't dare look down; I could feel that I had a hard-on. I just hoped that it wasn't too obvious.
I was covered in confusion. I felt as if I were standing, naked, my body and soul exposed to Leo's gaze.
"I'm, I'm so sorry," I mumbled, in confusion, feeling myself blushing from head to toe. "My mind was miles away." Leo continued to regard me. How could he not notice my erection? How could he not see how embarrassed I was? How could he not tell exactly what I had been thinking?
"Well, you're back now, and that's what matters," he said, almost to himself. "Where am I?" he quoted the title he had given my piece, "Where were you?" - this in an even softer voice, almost a whisper which I could hardly hear.
I picked up the tray with the water and cookies on it, and aware of the rattling glasses from my trembling hands, placed it on a table. All the time I could feel Leo's gaze on me. It was not hostile, not confused; just as if he were searching for something. His brow was slightly furrowed and he was biting his lower lip as the fingers of his left hand gently strummed the open strings of his violin.
"You don't mind, do you?" he began. "I mean giving me extra coaching?"
"No, no. Of course not, Leo," I stammered. "It's not a problem." I looked at him, smiling. "It was that piece of mine you were playing, I began, as a way of explanation. "It just took me back, that's all. You really play it well, Leo. Just as I imagined it." He positively beamed at the compliment and then looked serious again. "It's so much more than just notes," he said, hesitating, as if searching for the right words. "It's like I said before: first it's like being lost and sad and lonely, then something happens to make it all right again. But it has a sad ending." He paused. "Where do the notes come from?" he asked. "I know all about writing the notes, but what makes someone want to write more than just the notes, and how do they do it?"
"It's not just the composer, Leo," I replied, "it's the interpreter too. Notes are notes are notes, but it takes someone with insight to make them into more than black marks on paper. It takes a very special talent to get behind the notes and feel what the composer was feeling and find the right way of expressing it. You have that talent, Leo and I am more than happy to help you with your studies. But let me warn you regarding one thing about playing, and that is this: always be in control of what you are doing. Never lose your grasp on yourself. Playing music is a discipline and one must be disciplined to do it. Raw emotion isn't enough; but an understanding of life, and love, happiness and despair are all part of our armoury. But discipline has to be there. I hope you understand what I'm saying. Don't get me wrong," I added, as I saw Leo struggling to get to grips with what I was trying to say. "It's good what you do; but you must also be able to harness your feelings so that you'll be able to play even better."
Leo thought about this for a while. I could see there was still some inner turmoil. I thought the time had come to try and lighten the atmosphere somewhat.
"How about we play a few duets, to get us going?" I suggested. I found the music I wanted and the next few minutes were spent sight-reading through some short melodies. Leo was a very adept sight-reader and not only that: he played along superbly, adjusting his tone and tempo with mine and intuitively matching his playing with mine. It was a real pleasure to let the music ebb and flow so easily without having to explain it in words. A look here, a slight gesture there and Leo and I seemed to communicate completely. It doesn't happen very often, but when it does, it is very satisfying. I observed this beautiful, golden boy and my heart beat stronger within me. So young, so lithe, so beautiful, so talented. Leo had everything going for him, except for some dark place, which I thought I could sometimes see behind those incredibly blue eyes.
We took a short break, had some water and cookies while I looked for the orchestra music with which Leo had asked me to help him. It was a fairly tricky piece, which I knew would stretch my kids' capabilities, but which, I was certain, they would be able to play splendidly. I knew they wouldn't let me down, so I had chosen some fairly tough music for them but which should be fun to play as well.
"This was written by Mozart when he was your age," I said, putting the music in front of Leo. "Cool," was Leo's reaction. "So Mozart was a kid just like me then? I always thought of these old fashioned composers as all being old men in wigs!"
I laughed. "No, Mozart was a boy just like you, Leo... well, not exactly like you," I added. "For a start, he didn't have 501's or trainers!" Leo giggled, a musical sound that made me smile too.
"Or Playstation and iPod," countered Leo, now smiling broadly, his rosy lips parting to show his perfect white teeth. His pink tongue darting out now and again.
"Or the Internet" said I.
We each went silent for a moment. Then we caught each other's eye and burst out laughing again.
"Hehe! Mozart on IM!" said Leo. "I wonder what his handle would be? Noteman? Woofgang?"
By now we were laughing fit to burst. It felt so good, so right.
I chuckled again and replied, "Well, I'm sure Woofgang would have enjoyed the Internet. It's a great resource." Leo looked at me from under his blonde fringe.
"It's very helpful", he said, suddenly serious. "I don't know how I..." he checked himself suddenly and glanced at me almost anxiously, as if he had said too much. I sensed something of his discomfort as I replied, "the Internet is a great tool, but it can be dangerous too, Leo. All sorts of weird people lurk on the Net, I hope you're careful."
"Sure, I am, Jack", replied Leo and then hesitated slightly before continuing: "I know not to give out my address and personal stuff. And I never give my real name."
"Lioncub", I said. "Good handle, Leo. Seriously though, I hope you are very careful. I would hate to think of you being hurt."
"I just surf 'n stuff," said Leo. "It sort of makes the world seem a smaller place doesn't it?"
"Sure does," I replied, thinking of Jacob and the sites I visited frequently when I was alone at home.
"Do you think we could, could... chat sometime, Jack, if I need to talk to you?" I wasn't sure exactly what Leo was getting at, but decided to assume it was about music or something.
"Sure, Leo, any time," I said.
"Cool," the ubiquitous reply of modern youth.
"Now, master Nielsen," I said, mock sternly, "we can't waste this coaching session in idle chit-chat. Let's get to work on ol' Woofgang!"
Leo laughed at this, and we began to go through the music together. Leo seemed much more relaxed and at ease now, I felt as if a barrier had dissolved between us. He was a smart kid, fun and beautiful. I wanted him to feel he could trust me and relax in my presence. I watched him as he played, giving him hints on fingerings and bowings. I noticed he was having slight technical problems which was due to his bowing-arm. I said: "If you don't mind, Leo," as I gently took his right arm and adjusted its position. "You'll find it a lot more comfortable to play if your arm is ... just so" I gently manipulated the boy's arm, my fingers resting lightly on his elbow and forearm. I could smell the sweet scent of freshly-washed boy and breathed his scent deeply. "Now, if you just lower the shoulder..." I reached round behind his blonde head and eased his shoulder down, so that I was to all intents and purposes almost embracing him. He must have been able to feel my breath on his soft neck and my senses reeled in my closeness to the boy. I felt the tension flow out of his shoulder and as he settled into his new position he murmured, "That feels so good, Jack."
I gently rested my hands on him as he continued playing. I felt the muscles beneath the honey-coloured skin, and saw that he really was much more relaxed.
"It's so much easier like this," he said. "What was I doing wrong?"
"Nothing wrong, Leo, just a few slight changes in angle. Feels better eh?"
"Feels lovely," he almost sighed. I was so, so tempted to lean that couple of inches further in and gently kiss the neck just before my face... the moment seemed to stretch into eternity... but with a supreme effort of will, and no small regret, I gently removed my hands from his arm and shoulder and moved back a step. Leo continued his playing, oblivious to what had so very nearly happened - or so I fervently hoped. I was already overstepping the boundaries I had set and which Jacob had warned me about. I watched the slim youth playing, taking in his physique, imagining his firm young body naked. I could still feel the tingle I experienced whilst holding him gently seconds before. I was almost dizzy and moved quietly around the young boy as he played and sat on a chair before him, taking him in.
He came to the end of the passage with no real technical problems.
"That was fine, Leo.".
"It was so much better after you changed my arm position," he commented.
"You're doing so well, I just want it to feel better for you," I said.
"So much better," Leo said looking at me with a slightly strange expression on his face I couldn't quite make out. Was this young Adonis flirting? Did he know how sexy he was being? Had he any idea of the power he had over me? If he had turned to me and told me to jump out of the window, I would have done so in a heartbeat, no question. Such was the power he had over me.
However, mercifully, he hadn't yet got to that stage when he would discover how his looks could totally rule another person, make them putty in his hands, at least... I didn't think he had. I hoped he never would be like that. People who know the power of their looks invariably use it selfishly, to get what they want: to hurt, not to love. Leo still had the bloom of innocence about him, not fully realising just how beautiful he really was. But that made him all the more vulnerable. That's partly why I tried to warn him about the pervs lurking in chatrooms on the Internet. He seemed so trusting and, with a shock, I realised that I myself had very nearly abused that trust. I was no better than the pervs myself. How could I justify it, if I had behaved inappropiately towards him? No justification. And I would get no mercy from my peers.
I could see I was treading such a fine line. I would have to back off. I swallowed nervously, hoping my nervousness and sadness at my sudden decision didn't show.
"Leo," I began, "do you think that extra coaching is really what you need? You seem to be able to play this stuff, and I'm sure your regular teacher could help you with it."
Leo stood stock still, looking at me in almost a beseeching manner. His lower lip began to quiver slightly and I could see he was very close to tears. But I had to go on. I had to do this thing. Otherwise, I don't know how things would go and I could end up hurting the boy, damaging his feelings for ever. I couldn't risk that happening. I so wanted to take him in my arms there and then and say that it was all alright, that I would never leave him, that I loved him more than anything – anybody - else in the world, that I would be there for him for ever, love him, care for him, cover him with kisses, make love with him...
He stood there, as if in shock. I felt awful. I felt as though I had betrayed him. I couldn't bear to see that beautiful boy standing there, looking bereft. I tried to say something, but Leo just shook his head angrily, his face colouring as the tears started.
"Why?" he almost shouted. "What have I done?"
"It's not you, Leo", I protested. "It's me. I don't know how I can help you. Your playing is fine."
"It's not my playing." Leo was choking back the tears, sobbing. "I need YOU. It's always the same." He became almost incoherent with sobs, his voice breaking with emotion. "Every time I think I have found somebody I can be me with, they leave me. Am I a freak? What's wrong with me?"
He stormed to his violin case, almost throwing the instrument down and stood there, shoulders heaving.
I was stunned at the outburst. I felt so helpless, like one facing a hurricane. So much anger and frustration! All bottled up. Without even thinking, I went over, turned him round to face me and held him tightly to me.
"Leo, Leo, Leo," I murmured as he continued his sobbing. "It's not you. You're not a freak. You're a wonderful, beautiful, amazing young man. Don't think that I am rejecting you. I'm not." I stroked his silken head as it lay against my shoulder, sobs wracking the slim young frame. I gently stroked his back as his arms wrapped themselves about me, holding me tight, almost desperately, like a drowning man grasping to stay afloat. My mouth, inches from his ear whispered gently to him as his sobs slowly subsided. "Leo, tell me what's wrong. Let me help you. You're hurting, I know," I murmured. I felt his warm tears soaking through my shirt. How I wanted to put it all right for him. How much I wanted to ease his pain.
We stood there for several minutes, his warm young body pressed close to mine. Gradually the sobbing ceased, replaced by sniffles. His head, pressed hard against my chest became still, and as I continued to stroke his back, I felt his shoulders relax and a deep stillness enveloped us in the large empty music room.
"Jack," he whispered, barely audibly, "Jack, why is life such a bitch? I've got no one to talk to, no one to be myself with. I... I..." he paused. I knew that now was not the time to say anything. I felt somehow that this was a seminal moment about to happen in his young life and I wanted him to make the pace. If he felt ready to confide in me, then fine, if not, then it must be his decision. So I just held him close, stroking the back of his head and his back, waiting for him to continue.
"Jack... I'm... I'm different from all the other kids... I have these feelings... I can't help them... I try to be like all the other guys, but I know it's not the real me... I am so confused sometimes." His voice, muffled as it was against my chest was low and I had to strain to hear him. "Jack, I think... no I'm sure that I..." he paused before continuing. 'Here it comes,' I thought. At that moment, I felt so much love and compassion for this young man and all the pain and hurt he was feeling. I was reminded of myself, at his age, before Pete and I became lovers, I too, was alone and hurting and confused. The difference was, then I didn't have someone like me to confide in, if that was what Leo was about to do. I thought I could guess what was coming next and was proved right. I realised I was holding my breath and gradually tried to calm myself down, breathing slowly and deeply. My heart was beating fast and Leo must have felt it.
"Jack, I have these thoughts... I'm a freak.... I'm gay... and I'm all alone. I hate being alone...."
His voice trailed off and I knew that I had to answer him.
"Leo, you are not a freak and you are certainly not alone. Being gay is nothing to be ashamed of and nothing to be frightened of. It's just not easy when you realise for the first time that you are not the same as other guys. But it doesn't make you any less of a person, Leo. You are not any different from them. You just have different types of feelings. You are still a wonderful, beautiful boy who has so much love to give and can't find the right place for that love. But it will happen, Leo. You will find someone who feels the same as you. Being gay is tough, sure, to begin with, while you are coming to terms with it; but, as I said, there are thousands, no hundreds of thousands of guys like you - all over. It's just that society today makes having other than 'normal' desires something to be ashamed of. You mustn't be ashamed, Leo. And thank you for confiding in me. I am deeply honoured. I just hope that I can help you through this."
Leo, calmer now, with just the occasional sniffle, raised his head to look into my eyes. His flushed, tearstained face looked so miserable. With a finger I gently wiped the tears from his cheeks, stroked his blonde fringe from those bright cornflower eyes and before I knew it, I planted a gentle kiss on his brow.
"Leo," I whispered, my voice hoarse with emotion, "you are not alone," I repeated. "You have me to talk to now. And I do understand. More than you know."
"But you're.... I mean... aren't you...?" Leo looked puzzled. It was now or never, I decided to take the plunge. Leo had confided his innermost self to me, the least I could do was to return the compliment and show him how much I trusted him. Somehow I knew he wouldn't betray that trust.
"Yes, Leo, I am married, but that doesn't mean that a married man can't be gay as well. Sure, it's a big problem, but so many of us find we have nowhere else to turn to... It was different when I was younger. The world, if you can believe it, was even less tolerant to... to gay people than it is now. It was a question of survival. Even though you don't see it now, you live in a more open society than I did when I was growing up. It's tough maybe, but nowhere like as tough as it was. It was illegal to be gay under the age of 21 for heaven's sake and then one had to be secretive and furtive. I think the law stated 'between consenting adults, in private' or some such crap. Today, however..." I paused and looked into those deep blue pools of his eyes. "Well, let's say it's easier, even if you haven't found it out yet."
"So you had to bury your real self all these years?" Leo looked almost incredulous. "How did you - I mean, how do you manage? I've only just accepted my own feelings perhaps a year ago and already I'm bursting with frustration and fear and confusion. But you... all these years!"
"I'm no so old, Leo," I laughed. "And you are still so young. Of course you're confused and frustrated. All those hormones racing around your body..." Leo blushed.
"I sometimes get so... so... bottled up," he said. "I find myself looking at some cute guy and I get so... so desperate."
"I know, Leo. It's to do with your age. You can't help your desires and your body won't obey you. Problems with your 'little friend' misbehaving?"
Leo blushed an even deeper shade of crimson, but he was smiling.
"Yeah," he said. "Like, now."
Instinctively, I looked down at Leo's crotch. He was obviously hard. I could see the outline of his boydick pushing against the flies of his 501's.
"Even old guys can't control their dicks either," commented Leo, giving me a sly grin. He even licked his lips, the little rogue!
I smiled at that, but all the same, moved a pace back from him. This was getting too hot and intimate, even though I wanted it, my 'sensible' self began to retreat. Leo looked again at me, as if slightly disappointed.
"Leo, " I said, "you know that I can't do anything like this. You must know that if anything like this got found out, I would be sacked and maybe even sent to prison."
"I didn't know it was so bad. Especially seeing that I want to and, and... I love you, Jack."
I put my finger to those ruby lips. "Don't say that, Leo. 'Love' is a very, very big word. You might think that now, but perhaps in a year or two your attitude to me might have changed, or even your attitude to yourself. You're not in love with me, Leo; you are in love with the thought of being in love with me. Two different things altogether. Do you get me?"
"But I do love you, Jack. You're the only one I know who is... is like me and who knows about me."
"That's exactly it, Leo; but you really need to find a boy your own age... it's more natural."
"Nothing natural about that!" snorted Leo, obviously disappointed in my reaction.
"Leo, if I told you that since I met you I have thought about you in all sorts of ways... I could call it love, but if I were honest, I would only be using you for my own gratification. It's lust, not love. Sometimes there is nothing more I would want to do than to be with you, naked, really close to you, making love, enjoying your young body. But it would be dishonest. I would really only be using you for my own needs and not be concerned enough for yours. I hope I am making myself clear, dear sweet Leo. I will be here for you, to listen to you, to help you through my own experience, but it wouldn't be a good idea for us to do anything sexual. I want you to know that despite your beauty, I love the Leo that's inside just as much... if not more."
This had been a very difficult speech for me. My body was screaming out for Leo, aching in its lust for his youth. I had, in one fell swoop, killed my fantasies stone dead. There was this most amazingly beautiful sexy blond bombshell almost literally throwing himself at me and I had said 'no' to him. I had thwarted my own feelings and passions. For what? I hoped it was for his sake, for his protection... and not through fear of being 'found out'.
Leo was silent. He looked as if he were about to cry again, but swallowing, he said, "Don't say 'never' Jack, I couldn't bear it. Perhaps one day, if I can prove to you how I love you..."
"I won't say 'never' Leo," I smiled, but let's not get ahead of ourselves. You are in turmoil just now. You need to go away and think this through slowly and rationally. But I will be here for you. You can talk to me whenever you need and send me e-mails. Here's my personal e-mail address. Better to use that than the family one, I think." I wrote down my mail address and tucked it into his back pocket, feeling his perfect bubble-butt at the same time. Leo, blushing, thanked me.
"I will do everything I can for you, sweet lioncub," I said, "but let's just take it easy. Agreed?"
"Okay, Jack. I spoze you're right... but I do..."
I covered his mouth with my finger. "Shh, lioncub. One step at a time. Right?"
Leo nodded and before I could see it coming, he kissed me lightly on the cheek.
"Thank you Jack. Thank you for listening. I'm so glad I could talk to someone at last. It was your violin piece which gave me the courage, I think."
"Let's change its name," I suggested. "Let's, you and me, call it 'I am here'.
Leo nodded. "Cool," he said. "Yes, I am glad I am here and you are here with me."
"C'mon lioncub, you need to get home, we've spent far too long here. Your parents will be worried."
"No, it's okay, they know I'm with you."
"That's what I meant, squirt!" I said jokingly. He looked at me, and finally, the sun came out again as he smiled.
