David

After about ten minutes, Neal was able to speak. "I'm okay, I'm okay. Let me go. Seriously, let go."

Jeff released him and stood. Only then did he notice that, though Neal wore a robe like he did, Neal's lay completely open, exposing his fine white body to the air and to Jeff's vision.

Jeff stammered for a moment when he caught himself looking for Neal's cock. He caught the merest glimpse of its smooth uncut form lying stretched out along Neal's thigh.

"Uh, uh, Neal, er, here," Jeff said, handing him a face towel from the rack.

"Dry your face. Come see Howard's fabulous place. The guy is stinkin' rich. We'll get warmed up and eat and drink something, then you'll feel better. You'll see. Really. Trust me. Me and Howard are waiting for you to eat so don't be long, okay. Okay?"

As Jeff turned to leave, he could not stop himself from looking directly at Neal's crotch. He was positive Neal noticed his attention, but said nothing. Jeff turned back, held out his hand, thumb up. Neal grasped it; Jeff hauled him to his feet and they walked together through the eden-like bedroom to the living room. "I knew it," Jeff said silently to himself, "it looks just like the one in the sculpture, if I saw what I think I did."

"Ah, there you both are," Howard said. "I thought I was going to have to send a search party. You guys hungry? I ordered up some prime rib, special lobster cheesy potatoes, a veggie and chocolate brownies with Belgian chocolate ice cream and hot fudge, will that do? Meanwhile, have a seat," gesturing toward the snow white sofa. Howard moved to stand directly in front of the two boys sitting side by side, clearing his throat as if about to make a speech. They gazed expectantly up at him. He began, "Either of you or both of you are welcome in my home. Welcome to be in my home, stay in my home as long as you wish. Your lives are your own business. Your life styles and love styles are none of my business unless I can help either or both of you to better accomplish whatever it is you wish to accomplish."

Neal looked up as if to speak, but Howard cut him off. "Wait, don't speak yet please. If I can help either of you in any way, I wish you would not be shy about asking me for whatever you wish.

"Neal," he said, looking directly into those deep blue eyes, "I have already told Jeff much of this

but will repeat it for your benefit. I am forty-two years old, you may think that's old, but I don't. I have spent my entire life creating wealth. I inherited a substantial estate and have worked ten and twelve hour days for almost twenty-five years. I am now enormously, shamefully wealthy.

One day about a month ago, I woke up realizing that I had been tremendously unsuccessful and unproductive in my life. I had nothing and no one in my life. Only money and power. I vowed right then I was going to change my life, make it more about people. I flew to Alabama to see my younger step sister I haven't seen in thirteen years. Then I flew to see my daughter, April, to make amends with her. I just got back, was driving home from Midway and there you both were. So you see, it is fate. I am living up to my vow. If either of you need anything, a job, money, whatever. The clothes you were wearing are ruined, I am having them laundered as we speak. But if you will let me, I will arrange for someone to come up and fit you both for new clothes of your choice. "Please, let me do this for you guys. For me, not for you."

Neal was squirming.

"Can I ask you something?" Jeff asked.

"Anything at all. I promise I will tell the 100 percent truth," Howard said.

"Well, er uh, don't get mad, okay."

Howard smiled and said, "Only incompetence and stupidity make me angry. Go ahead Jeff, please."

"Are you gay?"

"Is that all you are asking? Or is the real question did I get you both up here to seduce or otherwise have sex with you?"

Blushing from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, Jeff stammered a reply. "No, er, uh I mean yes, I mean." He stopped to take a deep breath. "Yes, I wanted to know if you were gay, because I am gay, er, maybe bi, and I was wondering. And yes, also, it had occurred to me that you might be doing this to, er, uh, seduce, er, me. Not that I would be insulted, but er, uh I um, I am not a prostitute." Each time Jeff said the word "gay", a tiny sigh or moan issued from Neal, who otherwise remained silent.

Howard pondered his answer finally continuing, "Okay, let me answer your questions as fully and honestly as I know how. As far as my motives on asking, er, bringing you up here. In all honesty and sincerity, If I had met either one of you under different circumstances, in a bar, say, I most certainly might have tried to lure you into my bed. But the circumstances here are different. I am asking you to put me in a position of trust, and I would not violate that. But it is even more important that you understand where I am coming from. I am like Ebenezer Scrooge, newly wakened on Christmas morning, realizing what an idiot I have been to deny myself the pleasure of loving, of living, of giving, for so long; for nothing, for money. You, Jeff, and you, Neal, are my second and third chances to show myself that I am a changed man.

"To answer your first question second, I do not like to label myself or other people as gay or straight or lesbian or, etc. etc. If I had to choose a label, I would say that I am bisexual, or omni-sexual. I was married for a time. We had no problems sexually, we were as happy as a couple could be when one of the pair works all the time and cares only about money and greed and power. And I have had sex with men and thoroughly enjoyed that, too. As for right now,I have discovered I do not know how to have a 'normal' relationship with a man or a woman, because I have spent so little time practicing."

"There's no such thing as a bisexual," Neal blurted out, surprising Howard and Jeff. "You are either queer or your straight. There isn't any in-between!"

Howard and Jeff looked at him as though he had grown horns, Howard was about to comment when the door bell chimed. "Ah, that'll be dinner," Howard said, moving to the door. "Ah, come in, Roger, come in, here, put it all here," gesturing at the coffee table. "Boys this is Roger. Roger would have been the middleweight champion of the world had it not been for an unfortunate accident. Roger, please introduce your friend.

"Dis here is Andy, Mr. B, and tanks fer the champ thing, you are always tellin' people dat," Roger replied in his gruff Chicago near-north side dialect.

Howard smiled, "Well, Rog, I think that night was the only time I ever lost a bet on a fight."

"Well, whadya gonna do, Mr. B? Sometimes, sh . . . stuff jest kinda happens. Mr. Breen, lak I was sayin' dis here is Andy. Andy, here is who did the runnin'. I had'm go ta Ditka's. Dat all right, Mr. B? Only thing tho, Mr B. , Ditka's, I was surprised ta learn, don't serve prime rib. But Andy here, smart lad dat he is, took upon himself ta get what dey call, prime New York. He got tree of da big sixteen ouncers, Mr. B, an everythin' else ya wanted. Is dere anything else I can get ya Mr. Breen?"

Jeff had sidled up beside Howard to watch him in action, and because his stomach was grinding with hunger. It seemed to him near-death experiences required extra calories.

Howard reached into the copious pocket of his scarlet smoking jacket and handed Roger two bills. Jeff was sure they bore the faces of Franklin and Grant. "Did you tell, Jonas, the manager there, that I would be in to sign the check sometime tomorrow?" Howard asked.

"He told me it ain't necessary, Mr B. He said for a customer like you, he would jes' take care of it next time you was in dere. Dat ok, Mr B."

"You did well, Roger, and Andy did fine, too, be sure he knows that." Looking directly at the youngster, probably a porter, about fifteen or sixteen, he said, "I will be speaking to the manager about you both, telling him how pleased I am with your service."

"Thank you, Mr. Breen, Roger said, nearly dropping the Chicago drawl altogether. Andy piped up, "Wow, thank you Mr. B."

Jeff wondered if Howard's behavior was entirely due to his new found 'Scrooge' image. He suspected Howard treated his employees in this same gracious manner, had always done so. Jeff's already awe-filled respect for Howard rose several more degrees.

"Oh, there is one more thing, Roger," Howard said, barely catching Roger before the door closed."Could you please call Armand at Gucci's. Ask him if he could come up this evening. Thanks Roger."

"Cumon Guys, let's eat," Howard said, opening packages with abandon as the door clunked shut,

passing plates and silverware and napkins to Neal and Jeff.

The enormous repast took nearly an hour to complete. By the time Jeff was finished he was leaning back on the white sofa, hands resting on his bulging belly. Jeff noticed that Neal, for someone who claimed he wished to die, had a tremendous capacity to shovel food away.

"Be right back," Howard said. He was out of the room a few minutes and returned carrying three large snifters half filled with an amber liquid. "Neal," Howard said, "Don't tell me if you aren't over twenty-one, but please do tell me if you aren't over eighteen."

"I'm twenty," Neal said immediately.

"Arghh" I thought I said don't tell me."

"Well, I, er. . ."

"That's fine, you're fine," Howard laughed. "Here take this. You, too," he said, handing one to Jeff. "This," lifting his glass, cradled in his palm, swirling it so the glow from the recessed lighting overhead shone golden through it, is Filipe Secundo brandy, I consider it the finest in the world; made in Spain,only from a certain grape grown on one particular hillside. I ask only that you savor it, sniff it, sip it slowly. To gulp it down would be like playing Beethoven at fast speed." Howard put his nose in the glass and inhaled deeply, swirled the glass once more allowing his palm to transfer heat to the glowing liquid. "To the future," he intoned. "Wherever it takes us." He took in a tiny sip, swirled it briefly in his mouth, then swallowed slowly, eyes closed.

Jeff emulated his every action. The reward was bountiful. "That is like liquid flame going down." Jeff said, "very, very pleasant."

"And once it reaches bottom," Howard continued, "it lies there warming one's innards like well- banked coals."

"You are a very pleasant man," Jeff told him then. " I'll bet you could teach me a lot."

Ignoring Jeff's compliment, Howard turned to Neal. "Well?"

"I, er, I'm not much of a drinker."

"You may leave it lie if you wish, but it would please me greatly if you would take a few sips. If you sip very slowly, I think you will grow to appreciate it about half an hour from now."

Neal took a cautious sip. "Whew," he said, "that's somethin' else."

"You can smell the grapes," Jeff told him, "Very nice indeed."

"It's warm alright," Neal said. "All the way down." He took another sip, set his snifter on the table.

"So tell me about yourselves," Howard said.

For a very long time the response was silence. Howard waited.

To break the awkwardness, Jeff decided to contribute. "Well," he began, "my full name is Jeffery Paul Hunter, I'm 31 years old. I've never been married. I work as an accountant for Topel, Foreman, just a few blocks from here. A very boring job, but one that keeps me employed, pretty much keeps the bills paid. I work in the family-owned business department, the lowest ranking and lowest paying department there, my office is a cubbyhole about one-tenth the size of this room, and there is almost no chance of my advancing anywhere higher."

"Are you currently in a relationship?" Howard asked.

"Well, Howard. . ."

"Let me interrupt. Howard is my name and I don't mind it. Please don't ever call me 'Harry'. My friends call me 'Buddy'. That is what I prefer. Believe me, growing up in private schools with the name Howard, was no fun. 'Howie' was not much better. I quickly sought survival, hence 'Buddy'. It was actually chosen for me by Mike, my best friend at the time." Something thoughtful and wistful appeared in Buddy's eyes as he spoke of his friend. Jeff wondered if perhaps they had been more than mere friends.

"Well to answer your question, Buddy, until about three years ago, I was in a long-term relationship with a very pretty girl named Susan, but, well, let's just say she was not happy with my 'life style'."

"Forgive me for being so personal, Jeff, but you told us earlier that you were bisexual. Is that what you mean when you say 'lifestyle'?"

Jeff hadn't thought he was still so sensitive about the issue of his 'gayness' or bisexuality. But Buddy's inquiry, brought on waves of red embarrassment. Laughing at himself, Jeff continued. "Well, yes, that was actually it. I was willing to be faithful to her when it came to women, but she asked too much. She wanted me to give up all my interest in men. I am not. . ."

"That's just sick," Neal broke out. "That's what you all are, just sick!" He made a move to rise, but Buddy stopped him with one huge hand.

"Whoa, where ya think you are going, there, man. Me thinkest thou dost protest too much. You have no clothes, where do you think you would go? You are a guest in my home and until you are in a position to leave, you will treat me and my home and my guests with respect. Now you don't have to tell us anything, but until you leave you will keep your cool and keep your insults to yourself. Both Jeff and I have gone to great lengths to help you. I am sure I speak for both of us when I say we'd love to help you more. I'd even pay to send you to my own personal therapist, but I know you are not at that stage right now."

"What do you know about it? What do you know about anything? Who do you think you are? Big important rich man. You've never had to worry about a damn thing, not like. . ."

"Go on, go on, Neal, not like what? Jeff here has shared with us that he defines himself as bisexual. That took a tremendous amount of trust. You saw him blush when I asked him. He, and I, to a lesser extent, threw ourselves in Lake Michigan in October. Jeff actually risked his life. Did you know that he was nearly dead, that if I hadn't administered CPR he might actually have died? I think it's time for you to ask yourself what's wrong. I admitted to both of you right off that I am gay, or bi. Do you think that Jeff and I have not gone through the same things you are going through. What is it with the young? They always think they are the only ones who have experienced anything. Why won't a young person ever learn from another's experience? Why must they always torture themselves. I remember being exactly where you are today. I am sure Jeff does, too. . .?"

"What do you mean? I'm not. . ."

"Then why were you trying to end your life?"

"I don't have to tell you that." Neal's voice was sharp and strident.'

You don't have to tell me anything, Neal. Just know that others, Jeff and I included, have gone through just what you are going through. Won't you let us help you?" Howard's scraggy face was a study in empathy.

"How could you know? What I, what I, am, er feeling? How could you. . ." Neal struggled to stifle his emotions; floods, cascades, torrents of tears battered at the floodgates of his 'manly' reserve. Without thinking Jeff placed his hand lightly on Neal's knee.

"Don't touch me you fucking queer," Neal screamed, jumping up from the sofa.

"Calmly, thinking what he planned to say next, Jeff asked him: "Afraid you might like it Neal. Little Neal with the tiny little body and the fairy name?" Jeff teased. "So pretty you are. Like a china doll, eh, wanna kneel down for me?"

As expected, Neal made a move as if to strike Jeff, barely controlling the impulse.

"Are you so afraid of what you are, what you might be, that you would stoop to violence against me merely for talking? That you would move to end such a beautiful, young life as yours, with all your potential, all your ability?"

"I, I, I'm sorry," Neal gasped out. And then the dam leaked, his shoulders quaked, the tears broke

through, gently at first, wetting those beautiful pale china cheeks, but then the storm came, the dam burst, huge wracking sobs overtook him. Without hesitation, Jeff grabbed him, crushing the pain from his heart with his strong loving arms.

"I'm sorry, I'm so, sup, sup, sorry."

"Ssh, ssh, it's all right. It's okay. Let go, cry, cry Neal cry with all your heart and soul. I know the pain believe me I know. I know, let it all out, let it out my friend."

Howard rose and enclosed the two in his huge arms.

For perhaps a quarter hour, they stood there, the three of them, grasping, rocking. Jeff could feel the tension, the pain, the hurt, leave Neal's body through his. Still Jeff did not release him.

"Talk to us, Neal, talk. Tell us all, everything. When are you ever gonna have a safer audience, huh, tell me that?" Jeff coaxed.

"I don't wanna be a queer!" Neal protested.

"Well, are you?" Howard asked.

"I, I, I think s, so," Neal continued to sob.

"Well, see you don't even know. Why don't you sit down here calmly, have another drink. Tell us all about what's troubling you, son," Howard said. "What could it hurt? I guarantee Jeff, here, and I have been through the same thing or similar. Maybe we could help you."

"How ya gonna help me? You gonna make me unqueer?"

Howard nudged Jeff with his elbow, nodding toward Neal's empty snifter.

"Be right back, Jeff said, releasing them both from his grasp, disintegrating the group hug. Neal sunk to the sofa, face in hands, Howard sat opposite him, reversed on a dining room chair. Glancing over his shoulder as he headed for the kitchen, Jeff was stricken by how utterly masculine Buddy looked, how comfortably he seemed to fit in his own skin, arms draped casually over the back of the chair, a tuft of curly salt and pepper hair peeking from the vee of his shirt.

By the time Jeff returned with the brandy, Neal's sobs had subsided. Jeff tapped him on the shoulder and handed over the snifter.

Neal took a huge gulp, about half what had been poured, shuddering as its heat blasted its way to his stomach. "Whew," he breathed at last, gasping.

Jeff sat beside him on the white couch, knees and thighs touching. In sympathy, Jeff placed his open palm softly on Neal's shoulder. "Cumon, Neal, you ready now? Talk to us. Tell us what happened to you."

"W, w, well," he sups, "it's a long story."

"We got all night," Jeff said, scooting back on the couch and crossing his legs.

"Go on son, everything will be okay, I promise you," Howard says, his voice low and soothing, filled with sympathy.

"Well, last Saturday, Jerrod, a guy on my soccer team, hung around the locker room chatting with me until everyone was gone but me and him. Then, then, oh god. He, he, he says, 'I noticed you watching me in the shower. Did you like what you saw?' At first, I was shocked, tried to deny everything. But finally I admitted I was looking at him. I was curious about his penis 'cuz it was uncut. I had never seen one besides mine. He moved up real close to me and whispered, "Take a look, up close, go ahead, it won't bite. Then just when my face got close to his, his, his, c, cock. He snapped this picture of my mouth really close to his dick. Then he laughed.

Later, he showed it all over the internet. Everybody saw it. My girlfriend Anice called me a sick pervert, said she never wanted to speak to me again. I tried to tell her, tried to tell everybody it wasn't what it seemed but no one would believe me. And, and th, th, th. this is the hard part. I, I, I really can't say for sure that I wouldn't have gone further. I was ready to reach out and touch it, touch his, you know. I was terribly excited. Also very scared. I guess that's why I sounded so insincere when I tried to deny everything, because I wasn't sure of anything, wasn't sure of myself." "Did you go to the police?" Howard asks.