The Rape of St. Peter

G. A. Hauser

THE RAPE OF ST. PETER

Copyright © G.A. Hauser, 2009

Cover art by Stephanie Vaughan

ISBN Trade paperback: INSERT

The G.A. Hauser Collection

This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or business establishments, events or locales is coincidental.

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

WARNING

This book contains material that maybe offensive to some: graphic language, homosexual relations, adult situations. Please store your books carefully where they cannot be accessed by underage readers.

First G.A. Hauser publication: September 2009

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Book One

“When virtue is destroyed by passion, it is truly better to never have loved.” ~ G.A. Hauser

Prologue

It is in times of great stress that we learn what we are made of.

Surviving becomes more than just the notion of waking up every day. The very idea of life can become so repulsive that there’s a driving force seeking to end it. Peter John Barnes did not ask for this nightmare. He was simply born to live it.

Peter’s parents, Louise and Richard’s marriage and recent divorce were a history of violent rage that had left Peter and his siblings scarred for life.

Keith, Peter’s brother and the oldest of the three children, became the most deviant. At nineteen Keith found relief in a deepening world of drugs and debauchery. Keith turned his learned destructive behavior inward and outward, using his fists to intimidate others and achieving a constant drug induced high to cope.

Peter, the middle born, was nearly eighteen, and wandered like a blind man through life, forcing himself to go to school and pretending he cared for anything or anyone he was involved with.

The youngest offspring, Jacqueline at thirteen, seemed to be the only one in that broken home to act with normalcy. But Jackie had never been beaten by Richard Barnes.

The split had left the boys sliced up, yet they were to behave as if they were whole. Richard Barnes became cast as the villain by his ex-wife, Louise, and was indeed guilty of punishing the family physically when he lived among them.

It took a night in jail for Richard to come to his senses. He had finally gone too far, nearly putting his sons in the hospital. The judge warned Richard to avoid using his fists as a method of communication or end up back in jail for a decade. Richard was assigned mandatory anger-management classes, and given a year’s probation which included a restraining order.

An educated man, Richard considered himself cultured and refined on the outside; a wild man on the inside. His days were spent in the dense cement-covered city of Manhattan Island’s diamond district, where he worked as an importer of fine gemstones.

Inside Richard Barnes lived an unhealthy violent twin. Though he’d had several affairs while he was married to Louise, they were the least of his sins. Rage simmered in Richard and would rear its ugly head if provoked. Beaten as a child by his own father, Richard was passed the genes of the abuser. Both his sons had felt the pounding of his very powerful fists. But, the boys were no longer under his thumb, or his domain. Louise was now responsible for their upbringing and nothing angered Richard more than losing control, even when he had none to boast of in his own life.

Peter, the quiet one, the introvert, made no friends. He spoke to no one. His studies kept him occupied. Peter wall tall, athletic, and good looking, yet totally alienated and crushed inside. As he stared in the mirror Peter knew his anguish showed in his light green eyes. Peter never smiled. The world had cheated him as far as he was concerned. When he had stood up to it, he had been punched back down with a vengeance. Finished. Peter was through trying to make his life matter. He was a robot of himself, biding time. The depth of his unhappiness was only known to him. In his silence he kept it hidden, like a vault in the center of a pyramid.

Peter missed his dad. The love/hate he felt for his father Peter couldn’t understand. Peter loved him? Even after the beatings and the humiliation? Yes.

Every once in a while tenderness would emerge from his father, or remorse, and begging for forgiveness. It was at those times Peter was the most confused. He wanted to love his father and in reality, Peter needed him. With his mother overwhelmed and frail chronically, Peter thought she was useless.

Keith was beyond Peter’s comprehension or his reach, and his sister, Jackie, was a mere child. Who was there for Peter to offer advice and counsel? Who would show him the way into manhood? He wouldn’t dare make a friend at school, for he knew in his heart if they thought he was a freak, a loner, or a leper it would devastate him.

With his mother’s constant nagging to do something social, Peter joined the football team. Though his coach had appointing him as the team’s quarterback and leader, it was against Peter’s nature to rise to it and make them proud. His classmates were insulted he never socialized with them, never sat with them for lunch, and never spoke to a soul unless it was regarding school or football. Peter tried to act normal. ‘Pretending’ was what Peter did best.

But lately Peter was pretending to be alive.

Chapter One

Fair Lawn, New Jersey, 1978

On a wet November day, Peter stood in his padded shoulders and mud-stained football uniform to give out the next play to his teammates in a practice scrimmage. His eyes made contact with each boy. “Got it?”

“Got it.” They nodded and broke the huddle.

Peter checked the offensive line. “Hut one, hut two....hut! Hut!” The ball slipped into his hand, Peter found his receiver, hitting him in the numbers, then got slammed to the ground spitefully by the defensive line made up of his own teammates. A flag hit the sloppy dirt as Peter caught his breath, his chest aching from the impact.

“You all right?” Coach Jones asked.

“Yeah.”

The coach helped Peter sit upright. Peter tried to breathe normally. One thing Peter prided himself in was being tough. Surely he was able to handle every type of punishment they could dish out.

The coach asked him once more, “You sure you’re all right?”

With his lip tightened in anger, Peter nodded as he stood, adjusting his helmet. The boys huddled around him after the penalty of the personal foul on Peter tacked on another fifteen yards.

Peter knew the older boys resented him because he had benched their peer. A junior hadn’t led the team to the finals in over a decade. Peter knew damn well his own offensive line was allowing the opposing attackers through deliberately. With more determination than before, Peter hoped they would finally relent.

Back on the line Peter called the plays, managing to get the ball off as quickly as he could. His receiver scored, yet Peter was again slammed to the frozen ground by another late hit. The bruising to his ribs was causing Peter so much pain he could no longer inhale deeply.

“All right.” Coach Jones was furious. “Just wait ‘til I get you morons in the locker room. You think losing your best quarterback will win you games?”

“Sorry, Coach,” a few of the boys mumbled as they stood around Peter.

The coach reached out his hand and helped Peter to sit upright again. Peter held his aching chest as the coach removed Peter’s helmet for him. All of Peter’s long brown hair spilled down the back of his red and white jersey. With sweat dripping down his face, his damp mane sticking to his cheek and neck, Peter raised his gaze to the boys who stood around him to stare at him in curiosity. No one really knew him. Were they jealous of his talent? Did they hate him for it, or were drawn to him simply because he shunned them?

“You all right?” Coach Jones asked, like a myna bird it seemed he had one memorized line.

With a silent nod, Peter managed to crawl back up to his feet. In agony, Peter was assisted off the field and sat on the bench. Through ringing ears and aching ribs, Peter rubbed his sweaty face and inhaled a deep breath, trying to decide if a rib may have broken from the tackle. He did his best to pretend he was whole, not damaged, and get back into the game. For some reason he wanted to be pounded, beaten. It was what he knew best; punishment and making believe he was okay.

Peter spun around to look at the stands behind him to see if there were any die-hard fans out on that freezing cold, damp New Jersey day. A small crowd of people huddled together for warmth. A delicate blonde girl waved at Peter. He didn’t wave back, humiliated to be on the bench. He wanted to be left alone.

In pain and growing angry, Peter watched his replacement throw an interception. Peter hopped up, swearing under his breath.  “Coach, put me back in.”

“No, Peter, take a rest. It’s just practice and you’re up by three touchdowns. You just relax now.” He patted Peter’s shoulder.

Peter walked back to the bench, almost in tears.

That thin blonde from history class was staring at him. The one that would always answer the questions correctly when called on, but never raise her hand. Lithe, petite, her straight blonde hair came to her mid-back and blew in the breeze. Her face was plain and simple. None of the heavy make-up the other girls applied like they were in a school drama production and each class was their stage. Her patched blue jeans were faded to that soft fuzzy powder blue that you work for years to achieve. Her sweatshirt was hooded and gray, pulled over her head as if she were a monk. She smiled.

Peter wondered why she had singled him out that way. He wanted no one, nothing from anyone.

Someone patted Peter’s back. He reacted to the touch but the teammate who had connected to him had vanished into the rest of the helmet-covered anonymous gladiators.

When the game was nothing more than a painful memory, Peter showered in the locker room, completely absorbed in his own mind. A group of the guys in the shower were singing ‘Bye, Bye Miss American Pie’ off key.

The walk home was four miles, but it usually didn’t bother him. After being hit hard on the playing field, Peter began to dread the distance. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and tugged his collar higher around his neck. His long hair was still damp from the shower and made him feel very cold, not to mention, he was famished.

A lone female figure stood by one of the columns outside the main entrance of the high-school.

Peter glanced sideways as he passed, noticing her blonde hair. He thought he heard her say, “Nice game, Peter,” and stopped walking. It stunned him that not only did she know his name, she was being nice. “You think so? I thought it sucked.”

“Only when you weren’t in it.” She smiled shyly.

The pause in conversation grew awkward. Peter cleared his throat, wishing he knew her name, and asked, “Are you waiting for a ride?”

“Yes, my mother is picking me up. You need a lift?”

The fatigue in Peter had caught up to him making him shiver. “I wouldn’t mind one. If it’s okay.”

With a grin akin to the Cheshire cat, she rocked back and forth, giggling.

They stood in silence, trying to withstand the wind by hiding behind the white columns.

A moment later a green 1977 Buick Electra pulled up in. The blonde girl leaned into the window. “Can we give Peter a ride home, Mom?”

Peter climbed into the big back seat while the blonde sat next to her mother in the front. Peter felt reluctant to talk, but he had to direct the woman to his home.

Though both the little blonde and her mother attempted to get Peter to tell them something about himself, Peter clammed up and gazed out of the window. He tried not to appear rude, but kept swearing to himself that he would never allow this situation to reoccur. If he wasn’t so tired and hungry, he would have walked. Should have walked. Their questions, though meant with kindness, were nothing but badgering to him.

A few minutes later, the car stopped in front of his house.

“Thanks.”

“Bye, Peter!” The blonde waved enthusiastically.

Peter tried to smile but ended up turning away and searching his pocket for his house keys.

When he came through the door, Peter was hit with obnoxious noise. Keith had the stereo blasting as he played air guitar in front of it. He shoved Peter playfully as Peter walked by him.

Their mother, Louise, poked her head into the living room, trying to be heard over the music. “Peter, wash up. Dinner is ready.”

Peter nodded, tossed his pack down on the floor and then stared at his brother.

Keith watched himself in the reflection of the front windows as he jammed. He was a sophomore at the local community college studying liberal arts, for lack of a better idea.

Peter knew Keith wasn’t ambitious and only attended college to put off working a few more years. Keith was taller than Peter and more muscular. His hair was lighter brown and full. They both liked growing their hair long simply because it irked their father.

Peter connected to Keith’s coffee brown eyes. The angry glare of Keith’s revealed a hard, dark soul. Even so, Peter thought Keith was handsome, clever, and on a continual high. Keith was sexually appealing to the opposite sex and knew it damn well.

“Keith! Please, shut that damn thing off,” Louise called into the room. “Sit down and eat. Jackie? Get off the phone! Dinner’s ready.” Louise made a move to the source of the racket and flipped the switch on the stereo.

“Hey! Christ! That’s my new D.L. record. You’ll fucking ruin it.”

“Watch your mouth and sit down and eat.”

“Yeah, yeah...” Keith grumbled and headed to the dinner table. “You fuck it up, you pay for it.”

“I did pay for it,” she sneered, “And I said don’t use profanity in the house.”

Keith rolled his eyes in irritation behind his mother’s back. Peter didn’t flinch as he washed his hands in the kitchen sink. It was a normal day in the Barnes’ household.

While they handed plates of food around the table, Louise asked, “How was your game, Peter?”

“Fine.” Peter never met anyone’s eye, sipped his juice and reached for the platter of vegetables.

“Pass your sister the carrots. Fine? Just fine?”

Peter handed Jackie the dish. “Yeah, just fine.”

“Keith, slow down. Why are you eating so fast?”

“Gotta date.” Keith gulped his juice.

“With whom? Do I know her?” Louise pushed her hair limp brown back from her forehead.

“Nope.”

“Well, bring them around once in a while. I’d like to know who you’re associating with.”

“Chill out, Mom. Don’t worry, she’s pretty and has great...” Keith held his hands out in front of his chest in an obvious gesture.

“You’re gross!” Jackie said, “Mom, do we have to listen to this while we eat?”

“Keith, you’re impossible.” Louise sighed.

“When are you going to bring home a date, little brother?” Keith made kissing noises at Peter.

“Get lost.” Peter shoved Keith, using his hand on Keith’s shoulder.

“Want me to set you up? ‘Bout time you had a little.”

“Keith…” Louise grew angry. “Enough. Peter’s too young.”

“Mom.” Peter blushed in embarrassment.

Keith grinned at him slyly. “Yeah, I’ll bet you are.”

Peter scowled at him. “Shut up. Will everyone just shut the fuck up?”

They stared at Peter in surprise.

About to burst into tears, Peter slammed down his fork and stormed up the stairs to his room. He heard Keith chuckle like it was a joke.

Peter flopped down on his bed and crushed his face into his pillows. It was no joke. No. It wasn’t funny at all.

Chapter Two

The next day in fifth period, history class, Peter sat down at his assigned desk and stared out of the window to daydream. The dead brown leaves quaked on the trees as fall raced by, giving way to the long dark nights of winter. Peter was early and flipped the pages of his book idly. Someone brushed by his elbow as they passed. Peter found the thin blonde girl walking to her seat. He turned to watch her settle into her desk behind him.

She smiled sweetly at him. “Hi.”

Peter didn’t answer. His lips opened, he wanted to say hello, but nothing came out. They stared into each other’s eyes for a minute.

Head cheerleader, Rose Wilson, stood in front of Peter, completely blocking his view of the blonde. Rose said, “There’s a party at my house after school. The whole team will be there. I want you to come.”

“I’m not sure I can.”

“Of course you can. All the guys on the team will be there. But— you need to come alone. You got that?” Rose glanced over her shoulder quickly to give off her warning radar. Rose wrote directions to her house on a scrap piece of paper as she popped her bubblegum noisily. When she finished Rose handed Peter the paper and whispered into his ear, “I want you to be there with me. Get it?” Rose sauntered to her desk giving Peter her sexiest smile.

Peter folded the piece of paper, shoving it into his pocket just as the teacher called them to attention.

During the walk to Rose’s house Peter was preoccupied. Though he was headed there, he was still deciding on whether to actually go inside or not. It was only idle curiosity that drew him. That feeling of seeing how the other half lived. The half that seemed to be enjoying this life and not drowning in eternal misery.

Rose’s home couldn’t be mistaken from any other. The sheer volume of noise and cars surrounding it appeared like manic chaos. Peter hesitated on the sidewalk out front and stared at the silhouettes moving in eerie patterns behind the curtains. This was out of his comfort zone, and definitely out of his league. Just as he was making the plan to leave, a car pulled up behind him and a group of boys climbed out carrying cases of beer. One of the occupants noticed Peter and asked, “You goin’ in or just standing guard?”

“Is that you, Peter?” His teammate, Mike, squinted in the dimness to see him. It was only three-thirty but a thick layer of clouds made it feel later.

“Yeah, it’s me.” Trapped. Now he was trapped. If Peter could gnaw off his own limb to run free he would.

“You coming?” Mike tilted his head to the front door.

Like a condemned man walks to his own execution, Peter scuffed behind them slowly. The moment the door opened Peter was blasted with the Rolling Stones’ Gimme Shelter and a cloud of cigarette reek.

Dread began invading him along with the sense of retreat. Too many people had spotted him. Peter didn’t know where to go. He wondered which corner would be the best to hide in. When Rose shoved her girlfriends and pointed him out, Peter wanted to die.

Wearing a white peasant blouse, bell-bottoms and platform leather boots, Rose ran to meet him. “Peter, I’m so glad you showed up.” She hugged him tight.

“Where are your folks?” Peter didn’t return the enthusiastic embrace. With his hands still in his pockets, he looked around at the destruction.

“Gone for the night. Isn’t it the greatest?” Her painted fingernails dug into the fabric of Peter’s leather jacket. She had obvious laid claim to him for all to see.

“Shit.” Peter shuddered at the mess he’d gotten himself into.

Rose dragged Peter to the kitchen, handing him a beer, then she asked Peter for his coat. He took it off with some reluctance and handed it to her. Like a flash, Rose ran off with it.

In Rose’s absence a few other girls were trying to move in on him. Peter clammed up and sucked on the neck of his beer bottle.

The minute Rose returned, she shoved by the competition in irritation. Rose grabbed Peter’s hand in an iron grip and said, “Come with me.”

Peter stumbled over someone else’s feet as he was brought to another room. Jesus, this is insane! Never before had Peter been to a party like this. Hang on, clarifying that comment in his mind, amending it, Peter didn’t remember the last party he’d gone to. It was rare that he was either, invited or felt comfortable enough to go. He didn’t enjoy drinking or smoking, and was too shy to initiate conversation. What the hell am I doing here? I am so stupid.

The hard screaming of Mick Jagger had morphed into Cat Steven’s Oh Very Young.

A small crowd of people were passing a joint. With a tight-lipped shake of his head, Peter declined the offer and sipped his beer. He checked his watch, wondering how long he should put up with this agony, and started inventing reasons to leave.

A few of the seniors were rough-housing, knocking over lamps, oblivious to whom or what they smashed in the process. Peter turned to Rose for her reaction. Her total disregard for the house amazed him. Peter knew he would care a great deal if they were at his house. She hardly glancing up from the joint she was inhaling, still clasped to Peter’s hand tightly.

Her mood ring pinched his skin. He felt Rose staring at his profile, and peeked at her. The grin was plastered to her lips as the smoke leaked out.

After a few tokes, Rose started tugging Peter off again, making the rounds of the house as if to ensure all her friends witnessed them marching around as a pair.

The final destination of her tour was a dark room stinking of sandalwood incense. Peter knew other people were in it before his eyes adjusted. When they did he found a few couples kissing passionately. Rose led Peter to an open spot on the floor. She removed one of the cushions from the rust colored couch to soften their seat.

Peter cleared his throat awkwardly, trying not to watch all the necking that was going on around him. Rose cuddled close, her heavy soled boots clunked on the wood floor under the shag rug.

Was Rose hoping he’d get the hint? Peter sat in silence, wondering what she expected of him. The room was paneled with a dark brown veneered wood. It contained a large console television and a matching rust-colored sofa and loveseat set filled the tight space.

“You can kiss me, if you like, Peter,” she whispered and leaned closer, touching his face.

Peter thought Rose was pretty, with the exception of too much make-up caking her face and the odor of pot on her breath. Feeling obligated, Peter kissed her lightly on the cheek.

Suddenly Keith’s verbal teasing began emerging in Peter’s mind. Peter knew damn well Keith was humping everything with a human form. Peter had never touched another person sexually in his life. Maybe it was time he had.

“Do you know how to French kiss?” Rose asked as she ran her hand up Peter’s denim-covered thigh.

“Of course I do.” He lied, growing defensive. Peter felt as if he were battling Keith once more. ‘When are you going to bring home a date, little brother? ‘Bout time you had a little.’ Shut up! I hate you, Keith!

“Good. Then show me,” Rose said as a dare.

Peter held his breath, his heart pounding under his bruised ribs. He kissed her. When Rose’s tongue slid out of her own mouth and touch his it shocked him. Peter resisted the urge to back away to think about what the heck he was doing. Instead, Peter opened his mouth, allowing Rose to explore.

An unexpected rush of fire washed over Peter’s crotch. A whimpering sound escape his lips and he grew hard in his pants. “Oh my God.”

Rose pushed Peter down, flat on the floor, lying on top of him. Peter didn’t know why he decided to let go and behave the way he did. It was as if someone else possessed him. Peter wrapped his arms around Rose’s back and closed his eyes tightly, kissing her like she was sweet honey and he was starving. In reality, she stunk like pot and tasted like an ashtray.

Rose parted for a deep breath and stared at Peter. A tiny ray of shimmering light came into the dark room from the hallway, the only illumination in the room. Rose took Peter’s hand in hers and placed it on her breast.

Peter’s eyes sprang open and he swallowed down a dry throat. The touch sent his dick throbbing and yearning for release.

Peter urged Rose back down on top of him and started kissing her passionately, rubbing his hips up into hers with a sense of urgency he had never felt before in his entire life.

Rose sat back with a loud admonishing grunt. “Peter! We’re not alone.”

He asked meekly, “Can we get alone?”

As if that was the magic phrase, Rose smiled in triumph, peering around at the half a dozen couples who shared that tight dark room. Rose stood and reached out her hand to him. Peter got to his feet and followed her, spying back nervously at the eyes that watched them leave.

To Peter’s dismay the stairs to the upper floor where in the living room. Led Zeppelin’s Trampled Under Foot was now the selection on the turntable.

Rose made a little sign to her friends who watched their ascent. Peter wondered if he was the object of a bet. Was Rose about to conquer what they had thought was unconquerable? With a sick feeling in his stomach, similar to seeing a pubic hair on the pages of a borrowed text book, Peter tried to avoid the looks from his teammates as they snickered and commented on their exit. It was simply too late to back out.

The noise level dropped noticeably as Rose closed the door behind them. She reached to the nightstand and switched on a lamp which emitted a soft glow, then kicked off her platform boots and sat on the bed.

Peter peered around the room nervously. This was her parents’ bedroom, no mistake. The scent of sweet Chanel No. 5, his own mother’s favorite perfume wafted in the air. Family portraits adorned the walls, expensive silver jewelry boxes stood like a row of huts on the dresser.

In mortal terror, Peter wondered if it appeared obvious this was his first time. He dreaded making a mistake.

Think of Keith. Think of Keith. Mr. Cool.

Peter sat next to Rose on the bed and took off his Frye Boots, lowering his head, trying to find courage and some willpower.

Rose unbuttoned Peter’s shirt with deft, long, bright red fingernails. “Take this off.” She tugged on the denim material.

“You take yours off too.” He slid his Levi shirt down his arms slowly.

“Not yet.” Rose grinned wickedly while she helped Peter off with his, urging Peter to lie next to her. Rose caressed Peter’s skin making him dizzy from all the new sensations. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on her touch. A hand other than his own was caressing his body.

The yearning for human contact, though Peter shunned it continually, was like a physical ache. It was killing him to be without it, yet he knew with touch came pain, then bruising, then blood and scars.

“Peter?”

“Hmm?”

“You know you’re the cutest boy in the school, don’t you?”

Oh, God. He grimaced, shaking his head in denial. No, not me…not the freak.

“You are. Everyone says so.” Rose ran her fingers through his hair sending a chill up his spine.

Peter was beyond the point of no return. He had allowed someone to come beyond his barbed wire and now he felt powerless. The yearning in Peter to be loved, be accepted, or simply to be touched, was winning over his need to run away and hide.

Rose scooted closer and parted her lips.

Peter opened his mouth for more kissing. After a few minutes, Rose leaned back again and gazed dreamily into his eyes. “I’ll let you. You know. If we go steady,” she said.

Peter was so painfully shy, he knew Rose could dominate him if she was given the opportunity. It was no secret Rose was extremely assertive sexually. The girls in the school called her ‘The Bossy Bitch’. At least that was the lunchroom gossip. Head Cheerleader Rose Wilson was also the talk of the boys’ locker room.

“My friends would die of jealousy,” she said.

Peter never thought he would have another opportunity like this. His dick was so hard, he was in pain. Rose had won, there was no saying no. Without a smile or even eye contact, Peter said, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

Peter nodded, studying the pattern of the bedspread, waiting for her to change her mind, to get revolted by him, or to slap him for his insolence.

On the contrary, Rose squealed with excitement and kissed him, practically shoving her tongue down Peter’s throat. He was so stunned that he started yanking on Rose’s clothing before she could back out. Though he struggled, Peter couldn’t seem to get anywhere with her gauze peasant blouse or tight bellbottoms.

Rose didn’t seem to be having the same problem with his clothing as she unzipped his jeans. She reached inside them and touched the skin of his cock. Peter thought he may pass out.

“Oh, Peter.” She exposed him from his briefs, staring down at him.

Oh God! Peter blushed brightly, thankful of the dim light. He had no idea if that was a groan of disgust or pleasure. “Help me with these,” he begged, tugging on her clothing.

Rose rolled off the bed and undressed as he watched. Peter wanted release so badly it was giving him a headache. Peter kicked his legs awkwardly and managed to take off his blue jeans.

Rose lay by Peter’s side and crushed herself against him. At the sensation of her naked flesh on his, Peter felt a shiver of craving wash over his body of so much euphoria he almost cried as he squeezed her tight.

“Peter?” she whispered in his ear, “You’ll pull out, won’t you?”

“Huh? Pull out?” Peter was trying to concentrate on all the new sensations at once in an attempt at getting it right, and it wasn’t working.

“Yes, Peter.” Rose raised her hips off of him. “You know, before you...”

Trying to think was nearly impossible. Peter could barely deal with this out of control urgency he was feeling. All he could think about was getting in, not getting out. “Come on, Rose...please don’t tease me.” Peter kissed her neck and rolled on top of her.

“Uh uh, Peter. Not until you promise.” She lay still stubbornly, her thighs becoming impenetrable.

Peter agreed, hoping he would do everything right and not make an utter fool of himself. Rose gave in finally, smiled, and opened her legs.

Holy fuck! When Peter felt penetration into a woman for the first time it was all he could do to restrain the urge to explode spontaneously. Wet, hot, tightness surrounding the head of his dick making him clench his teeth. The climax came up on him like a volcano. “Oh, Jesus!” he gasped as he pulled his hips away quickly, covering Rose’s stomach with cum. Peter’s arms trembled from holding himself up, his long hair hung in his face as he shivered. Mother-fucker! That’s it? One second inside is all I get? Just shoot me. He stared at the creamy spatter, humiliated at the mess.

“It’s okay, Peter.” Rose pushed him off rather callously, as she headed to the bathroom to clean up.

Though Peter had a sexual orgasm and was no longer considered a ‘virgin’, he lay back feeling horribly unsatisfied. He wanted Rose to return so he could hold her close and savor the feeling. Even the stickiness on his dick felt kind of nice. My first time. I did it. Fuck you, Keith.

When Rose returned she started putting on her clothes.

“Do you have to dress so soon?” he asked, trying to convey that he needed something more from her. Closeness. She had been the first person he had allowed to get near him.

Peter wanted so much to say how much the simple act of embracing her, lightly touching her hair and face would be so satisfying to him.

“We’ve been gone too long as it is.” Rose finished up quickly, hardly meeting his eyes.

Peter heard someone giggled from a dark place in the room. It made him bolt upright and scan around the area in suspicion.

Rose peeked at Peter nervously and bit her lip. “I’ll see you downstairs.” With little regard for his feelings, she hurried out, leaving the door ajar.

Mortal terror gripped Peter. “Hey! You could at least wait for me to get dressed.” It was useless. She was gone.

Peter grumbled at the sense betrayal. He stood off the bed on his way to the bathroom, only to stop suddenly at another door. Thinking it was a closet, Peter reached for the handle and swung it open. Three girls fell all over themselves to get away. The door adjoined another bedroom. Peter watched in horror as they scrambled to get out of sight.

Peter closed that door and went to shut the one connecting the hall. A few more girls leered in hungrily as they passed.

Peter slammed it on their laughter. I knew it. I fucking knew it. He stood still rubbing his face tiredly, reprimanding himself for trusting anyone. Never should I allow someone to come near me. Why haven’t I learned? Pain. It was all they lived for. To see me in pain.

A dark reminder flashed over his naked skin. There was another option. Oh yes. He didn’t need to keep putting up with this agony.

Chapter Three

Keith sat across from his brother on a nearly empty commuter train to Manhattan. They were headed to meet with their father for lunch. Richard had a two day layover in New York before he had to fly out on a diamond buying trip to Israel and insisted on seeing his sons.

Keith watched dully as the Bergen County Line made its way to Hoboken station. He peeked at Peter whose eyes were glued to the window.

Keith stared at his little brother, noticing the similarities between their looks. He wished his eyes were green like Peter’s. It actually pissed him off his were brown.

Keith kicked Peter with his black leather boot to get his attention. When Peter glared at him, Keith gave Peter a wicked grin.

Peter asked, “What?”

“Are you a virgin?”

“Fuck off.” Peter gazed out of the window again.

Keith tried to guess the thoughts in his brother’s head. “You are, aren’t you? Pussy.”

“Leave me the fuck alone.”

The train terminated at the Hoboken station. Keith stood at the doors waiting for them to open, blocking Peter with his shoulder. The minute the sliding doors pulled back, Keith leapt out onto the platform and ran to the underground connection.

Keith shoved coins into the turnstile and crashed through it to the PATH train that was idling, awaiting departure. When Keith looked back over his shoulder, Peter was frantically trying to keep up and not be left behind.

Keith flew inside the gap of the carriage door and raced in for a seat before every last padded bench was occupied. He skid in and planting his ass on a seat, like a game of musical chairs when the music has stopped.

Peter dropped down in the tiny space between Keith and a metal wall, catching his breath, just as the subway train hissed and the doors slapped shut.

A garbled male voice babbled over the public announcement system, “Christopher Street, first stop, Christopher Street.”

“Almost missed it, little brother.” Keith pushed his shoulder against Peter to annoy him as a heavy set woman sat on Keith’s free side.

Peter nudged Keith to get away, but Keith didn’t budge. “This sucks. Why the fuck doesn’t Dad come in to see us?” Keith couldn’t even imagine brushing up against the woman next to him. He squashed Peter against the metal wall both to piss Peter off and to keep away from the stranger.

Peter was packed in so tightly he couldn’t even shrug. “Who cares?”

Keith lean his chin on Peter’s shoulder. “Why ‘you such a butt head?”

“Why ‘you always high?” Without success, Peter tried to avoid the constricting contact. “You’re the butt head.”

“And you’re stuck with me, little bother,” Keith whispered seductively.

Peter rolled his eyes in annoyance and tried not to make eye contact with anyone.

Everyone seemed to be staring at them. Keith liked it. He kept his head on Peter’s shoulder, enjoying the scent of his leather bomber jacket. Keith gazed around at all the admiring eyes. A young woman was looking at him. Keith winked at her and smiled. She blushed and turned away.

The subway rails squealed into Christopher Street station like nails on a blackboard. Keith sat upright when the heavyset woman got off and someone else was next to him. With unmatched intensity Keith stared at Peter’s profile.

Peter felt it and frowned. He met Keith’s eyes. “Why don’t you leave me the fuck alone?”

“What the fuck am I doing?” Keith blinked at him innocently.

“Stop staring at me.”

“Why? You think they’ll think we’re queer?” Keith laughed.

Peter shook his head. “Please, just leave me alone. You’re so fucking weird.”

Keith put his arm around Peter’s shoulder and pressed his lips to Peter’s cheek, making loud kissing noises.

Peter shoved Keith back violently. “Quit it, Keith! I swear!”

Keith roared with laughter, loving the blush in Peter’s cheeks. Oh, Pete, Pete, Pete... what am I going to do with you? Hmm? Though Keith quieted the smooching noises, he refused to stop annoying Peter physically. Like his father, he loved to torment the flesh. And Peter was prime target. “I like kissing you.”

“Ew. Get off me.” Peter tried to pry Keith off.

Their stop finally came, 33rd Street.

Peter squeezed out of the seat and stood by the door to be free of the taunting. As they waited for the door to slide back, Keith rubbed his crotch on Peter’s ass. “You love it,” Keith teased. “It’s the only sex you’ll get.”

“Keith, stop!”

“Heh, heh.” Keith knew Peter was trapped until the doors opened so he humped Peter’s butt.

When hiss sound announced the opening of the subway car, Peter hurried out to try and lose Keith.

Keith caught up and hopped alongside Peter as Peter brooded. “What’s wrong, Petey? Can’t take a little joke? Why you such a downer?”

“Lay off!” Peter took the stairs up to the street level two by two.

Keith was right beside him. The whole way down the street Keith kept poking Peter to torment him. “Tell me if you’re a virgin? Come on, Petey, tell me.”

“Christ, just kill me now.” Peter ran his fingers through his hair and groaned.

When the game lost its amusement for Keith, he lit up a hand rolled joint and took a deep inhale.

“You got to be kidding me.” Peter appeared about to scream. “Get rid of that thing.”

“Here, suck on this…” Keith handed it to Peter as pedestrians scrambled by. “Suck it. Suck it, baby brother.” Keith waved it in front of Peter’s face simultaneously pushing his pelvis forwards suggestively.

“No! Get lost!” Peter cringed and avoided the soggy end of the joint.

“I said, suck it.” Keith tried to put the joint into Peter’s mouth.

“Keith, leave me the fuck alone!” Peter dove back from him and hit a brick wall of a twenty-story building.

With all of his force and body weight, Keith pressed his brother back against that grimy wall and growled, “I want you to suck on it.” Keith was lost on Peter’s green eyes.

In shock, Peter tried to swallow down his dry throat. There was a look Keith had whenever he seemed to lose his mind. Keith had that look now. Peter was pinned so tightly to the sooty wall behind him, he couldn’t move.

“Suck it, little brother.” Keith purred seductively as he ground his hips into Peter’s.

The pressure on Peter’s bruised ribs was agonizing. “I don’t want to smoke that shit. So, lay off.” Peter felt the blood begin to drain from his face as the pain washed through him. “God, what did I do to deserve so much bull shit?” Peter winced and closed his eyes. He gave Keith one last push, then found their father standing next to them on the sidewalk. “Dad!”

Instantly, Keith crushed the joint between his fingers, stuffed it into his jeans’ pocket, backed up and readied himself for a bad reaction from his father.

Peter knew one was most certainly coming.

“Will you stop tormenting your brother?” Richard’s entire body went tense as if he was going to take a swing at Keith in rage.

“Why? Are you the only one with permission?” Keith replied.

Peter cringed. It seemed violence was inevitable. It always was.

Richard spun around to the myriad of spectators brushing by on the tight Manhattan sidewalk.

Ah, witnesses. Can’t have that. Peter looked at his brother. You’re lucky this time, Keith.

Keith shoved his hands into his pockets, looking sheepish suddenly.

“Let’s go.” Richard gestured down the block.

They wove their way on the busy sidewalk, trying to act like they were normal and not the poster family for National Dysfunction Day. Peter watched the throbbing vein in his dad’s temple subside and took a deep breath of relief.

Richard asked, “You guys hungry? What sounds good? I was thinking of Italian.”

“Italian’s fine, Dad.” Keith looked back over his shoulder as an attractive older woman walked by, then resumed his peacock-like strutting.

“Why didn’t Jackie come?” Richard held open a door to a restaurant for them.

“She had a birthday party to go to,” Peter replied.

Richard acknowledged the hostess and they were seated at a booth.

Peter and Keith climbed into the same side and took off their jackets.

After they had ordered Peter stared at his father. Richard Barnes was simply an older version of his two sons. Richard was big, muscular and handsome, with a full thick head of hair and a devilish gleam to his eye.

“Why don’t you both get a goddamn haircut? You look like a couple of fags.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Keith showed his teeth as he sneered. “We do it to piss you off. Is it working?”

Surprising Peter, Richard didn’t take the bait. Maybe that anger counseling did some good?

“How’s football going, Pete?”

Before Peter answered he noticed his dad get distracted by an attractive woman who entered the restaurant with her girlfriends.

“Okay,” Peter said. “We have a game this Sunday. Can you come?”

Richard didn’t reply, still gazing at the women.

Peter shook his head and stared out of the window. “Why the fuck do I even bother,” he said only to himself as Keith peeked over his shoulder at the same women as if to see why his father had seemed so smitten.

Snapping back into focus again, Richard said, “Uh...I can’t, Peter. I’m flying out to Tel Aviv, remember?” He lifted his glass of ice water and took a sip.

Peter figured on the response and propped his head up on his hand, sighing as he gazed at nothing.

Richard reached across the table to him. “I’m sorry, Petey, you know how much traveling this job takes.”

Peter recoiled from the touch. “Can’t someone else go?”

Richard retracted his hand slowly, trying not to appear insulted by Peter’s reaction. “I’m the only Certified Gemologist on staff, Peter. That’s what I get paid for.”

Keith elbowed Peter in the ribs. “What’s so important about a stupid football game?”

At the jab, another agonizing stab of pain flashed through Peter. As quickly as he could Peter recovered from it not wanting them to know he was injured. “Nothing, I guess.”

The waitress set their salads down.

Richard stared at Peter. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“Hurt?” Keith asked, trying to catch Peter’s eye. “Did you get hurt?”

Peter shook his head and wondered if his dad could smell the odor of pot on Keith. He sure could.

Richard took a bite of his salad. “I promise I’ll catch a game before the end of the season. Okay, Peter?”

Yeah, whatever. Peter didn’t respond to another question the rest of the visit. The door to his soul had closed once more.

Peter caught Keith glance across the table at their father. When they shook their heads at Peter’s state, Peter thought, Fuck you both.

On the train ride home Keith slouched in the seat across from Peter and stared at him.

Peter couldn’t see out of the window any longer. The darkness outside and the lit interior created a mirror of his pouting reflection.  He mumbled, “Stop giving me the evil eye.”

Keith asked, “Why do you always have to ruin things when we see him?”

“I didn’t ruin anything.” Peter glared at Keith.

Keith glanced around to see if anyone was listening, then he moved to sit next to Peter on the bench seat and leaned on his shoulder. “Lower your fucking voice. Everyone doesn’t have to hear you.”

“Fuck you.”

“He works like a dog. Give him a fucking break.”

“He doesn’t give a shit about us anymore.”

“Why do you say that?” Keith pressed harder against Peter’s shoulder. “Mom doesn’t work. Who do you think pays all the bills? Santa Claus?”

“Get off!” Peter nudged Keith and rubbed his sore chest.

Keith tucked his black boot up under him, staring at Peter, as Peter stared at nothing.

Chapter Four

On the eve before the big Thanksgiving football day event, Fair Lawn High School celebrated the coming battle with Ridgewood High with a bonfire. An effigy of the opposing quarterback, Reggie Ridgewood, was to be burned on the top of a huge woodpile.

Peter eyed the dummy in an enemy uniform. Good-bye ‘Reggie Ridgewood’ see you in hell.

The entire football team was in attendance to help build the pyre.

Dressed in school colors, crimson and grey, Rose tossed an occasional piece of kindling on the heap, wary of her polished nails. The cheerleaders assisted in the task of pep squad, while the fire department supervised the event.

Peter brushed off his hands of grit and before he could react he was spun around and kissed passionately by Rose. Peter jerked back and wiped at the lipstick smear he assumed coated his face. “Not now.” His cheeks burned in humiliation.

The day after Rose’s party Peter realized the world was informed that he and Rose were ‘going steady’. Rose announced it to everyone as if she wanted to claim him beyond all doubt. Rose couldn’t even tolerate Peter being alone in the same room with another female.

Peter thought Rose was insane as gossip made the rounds quickly that she and her nasty brood of cheerleaders gathered together to plot behind every imaginary rival’s back.

“I like kissing you.” She helped Peter wipe at the pink smudge on his face.

“Later, all right? I’m busy now.”

“Okay, lover.” She grabbed Peter’s ass as he walked away.

It irritated him beyond measure. When Peter spun back to give Rose a scolding look, she was already skipping back to her friends to fill them in.

Peter was sure Rose was making up incredible stories about their love life. Some of the rumors she was spouting inevitably made their way back to him in the form of locker room chatter. Peter heard that Rose had managed to earn the respect of her cheerleading peers. She had promised them they would all get to see Peter nude and she had fulfilled that promise. The tormenting Peter took from his team over the incident was brutal. Somehow the size of Peter’s ‘peter’ was brought up whenever he headed to the shower.

A few dozen students helped with the wood and painted banners for the big game, for it was the last match of the season.

Peter offered to get more paint for the signs. He jogged into the school, his well worn beige boots echoing in the empty hall. He found the art room and the supply closet, fumbling with cold, numb fingers and keys.

Someone entered the room behind him. Peter spun around and came face to face the quiet blonde. She seemed as surprised to see him as he was to see her.

“Hi.” She blushed.

A twisting sensation of nerves hit Peter’s mid-section. “Are you here to help with the bonfire?”

“No, I just came to take home my paintings. I left them here to dry yesterday.” She walked over to a wooden rack by the wall.

Peter removed a few cans of paint from the cabinet and locked it back up. He walked up behind her too look over her shoulder at her work. “Do you mind if I see your stuff?”

She trembled as she held them out for him.

“Wow, I never realized you were so talented.” A name was signed in print on the bottom right corner. ‘Erin’.

“Do you really think so? I want to be an artist.”

“Yes, I do.” He stared closely at her skin. There was no heavy make-up coating it, just smooth, clean, pale flesh. Her eyelids were unpainted and her irises were blue in color.

“Peter!” Rose appeared at the open door. “Where’s the paint? We sent you hours ago!” Rose’s eyes were like two poison tipped darts as she aimed them at Erin.

Peter turned away from Erin quickly, still carrying the cans of paint, and headed to the doorway. Peter glanced back as Rose glared at Erin, angry over what may have passed between she and Peter.

Erin lowered her eyes at Rose’s threatening glower and gathered her paintings, escaping down the hall, rushing past Rose and avoiding Peter’s quiet goodbye.

For twenty minutes Rose complained about the girl in the art room. Peter ignored it until he couldn’t stand it anymore. “Shut the fuck up and leave me alone.” Peter stormed away from her.

Rose ran after Peter and grabbed his sleeve. “Peter! Did you have to yell at me in front of everyone?”

Sighing in exhaustion, Peter replied, “Look, just forget about it, okay?”

“Anything you say, Peter.” Rose kissed his cheek and ran back to her friends.

Peter had no idea how he had gotten himself into this relationship. Sex. One fucking two-second bout with the biggest bitch in the school. Am I fucked in the head or what?

When darkness fell on the cold November night, over three hundred students stood in a circle around the blaze. The heat was so intense no one could get within yards of it. A cheer rose up when the dummy lit on fire.

Peter heard what he thought was his brother’s voice and looked back over his shoulder. Keith was standing a few yards behind him, passing a joint with his friends.

Rose clung heavily on Peter’s arm, like an overgrown tumor. Peter scanned the rowdy, drunk crowd, watching as everyone ran laps to their stash of beer in the fields. The faculty did their best to supervise, but it was impossible in the darkness.

Keith approached Peter, his friends following close behind him like they were his disciples. Keith’s long hair blew in the wind and Keith’s eyes were glazed. He hugged Peter from behind. “Come on over to the park with us for a while.”

“Hi, Keith!” Rose said like she was leading a cheer.

“Yeah, whatever...Pete?” Keith whispered in his ear, “Can you ditch her?”

Peter glanced back at Rose who was attempting to overhear. “I’ll find you in a minute,” Peter replied.

Keith nodded and signaled to his friends to walk away.

“What’d he want?” Rose asked.

“He just wanted me to hang out with him and his friends.”

“Okay.” She started to lug Peter towards Keith.

“No. Not right now.” Peter resisted.

“You’re a real drag tonight, Peter.”

Fuck you.

Rose was wearing Peter’s Wrangler denim jacket. He had accidentally left it behind in class and now couldn’t get back from her. Peter followed the direction of Rose’s stare and spotted Rose’s cheerleader friends. They showed a glimpse of a bottle of brandy. Good. Go.

“Listen, Pete, would you mind if I said hi to my friends? For like, just a minute? Could you stay right here? So I can find you again? I’ll never find you in the crowd if you move, okay Peter?” She reached on tiptoes to kiss his lips, then skipped over to them before he could answer.

Peter watched the girls disappear into the darkness outside the firelight. Sighing with relief, he turned around and searched for Keith. To Peter’s surprise Keith was only a few yards away watching Peter’s every move.

Peter entered Keith’s tiny ring of friends and instantly smelled the burning reefer in the frozen air. His brother offered him the joint.

Peter shook his head. “I still won’t suck on it.”

Keith grinned in his most demonic way and held his crotch. “Then suck on this.” Keith reached into the front of his jeans.

Peter knew his brother was stoned out of his head and expected something lewd, like for Keith to whip out his dick.

While the other boys laughed, Keith removed a bottle of tequila from the front of his jeans.

Peter took a quick look around and swallowed a mouthful to shake off the seeping chill of the night. While they passed the bottle, Peter listened to his brother’s friend’s conversation. He thought they sounded very stoned and stupid, babbling incoherently, eager to find some high-school girls to screw in the dark. Peter kept silent and took the tequila bottle when it came his way.

“Where’s Rose?” Keith cuddled against Peter as he handed him the bottle.

Peter shrugged.

“She driving you nuts?”

Peter connected with his brother’s red eyes. Keith obviously knew the answer and smiled sadly.

Keith and Peter were inseparable when they were young. They looked like twins, growing more alike every year. Now that they were teens Peter was labeled the pest. Peter wished they were still close friends.

Keith put his arm around Peter and licked Peter’s cheek. “You can break up with her, you know.”

Peter pushed Keith away and wiped his face with his sleeve.

Keith’s name was called out from the darkness. A pretty brunette came into view, grinning at Keith.

With his Mr. Macho-man act suddenly on parade, Keith made a little show for his friends. Keith hugged the girl close, kissing her like she was his long lost girlfriend. The brunette loved the attention. Keith winked at his friends and escorted the girl out into the fields. He glanced back at Peter, gave him a wink, then was lost in the night.

The obnoxious laughter and crude comments from Keith’s friends irritated Peter. He walked away, but didn’t want to go back to the crowd. He headed to a dirt-covered area where there was a jungle gym and swing set. His thoughts were about Keith. Peter needed his brother now that his father wasn’t around. He wondered if he could really talk to Keith or if Keith would criticize him and make Peter feel stupid. Keith was always high. There was no way to communicate seriously with him any longer.

Peter’s thoughts drifted off to the big game tomorrow. He had to win. This was the first time a junior was taking the team to the holiday rivalry in more than a decade. The pressure was great. They’d lost this game for the last six years. All the odds were against them. When the opposing defense heard Peter was only a junior they vowed to tear his head off.

Peter rubbed his palm across his aching ribs and knew he was going to be covered in bruises. A defeat would prove them all right. He had to win. He had to.

Peter closed his leather jacket, trying to feel the warmth from the tequila. He scanned around, then went to the side of a brick shed and opened his zipper to pee. He finished, tucked himself in, turned around, and startled at seeing someone close enough to have witnessed what he was doing. With the distant fire behind them, Peter could only make out a silhouette. He was a little upset that the individual had watched him take a damn piss. Peter stuck his hands in his pockets and walked away.

“Peter?”

“Erin?” Peter spotted a glimmer of blonde coming out from under a felt hat.

“Sorry. I didn’t know you were taking a leak.” She giggled into her mitten.

“Shit...this is really embarrassing.” He tried to laugh with her, but he was mortified.

“Where’s Rose?” She searched the area in paranoia.

“In there somewhere.” Peter nodded to the crowd by the bonfire.

“Oh.”

There was an awkward silence as Peter tried to think of something to say.

“Good luck tomorrow, Peter. I know you’ll be terrific.”

He smiled shyly. “I’m nervous as hell.” It surprised him he’d voiced his fears so casually. Maybe the tequila had loosened his tongue.

Erin drew closer, gazing up at him. “Don’t be. You’re the best. The other team hasn’t got a chance. Did you see them play last week? What a joke their quarterback is. They lost to Garfield. Do you believe that? Garfield never beats anybody.”

It stunned him. Peter didn’t think girls liked sports enough to follow it. Rose didn’t have a clue. “I know you’re right. I did hear they had a lousy team this year. Some comfort in that, I guess.”

“Peter, even if they were number one, you’d beat them. I’ve never seen anyone as good as you. You’ve got the most completions in the league and the least number of interceptions. The other team is so frightened of you, they keep making threats to keep their spirits high.”

He gaped at her. “How come you know so much about me and football?”

“I’m just a fan, that’s all.”

“Thank you. I suppose I needed that.”

Erin removed a candy bar from out of her pocket and asked, “Want some?”

Peter imagined he was competing with Erin at being the shyest person in the school. “Okay.”

They sat together on the cold bench and stared at the fire in the distance. When she shivered Peter put his arm around her and pulled her close. “You’re freezing. Let’s go back by the fire,” he said, trying to warm her up.

“No,” Erin replied quickly. “I mean, no, I’m fine, really.” She cuddled against him.

As if she were made of porcelain, Peter touched her hair. It was soft and satiny, not sticky with hairspray.

Erin sat still, as if she were afraid to move.

“Erin,” he said. “I like you.”

“I like you too, Peter.” She munched the chocolate quietly.

Peter watched Erin as he chewed and turned to meet his stare.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked.

She nodded, then closed her eyes.

Peter touched his lips to hers lightly, enjoying the freshness of her scent. No smell of cigarettes, perfumes or lipstick. Only a clean taste and chocolate.

Peter cupped Erin’s face and kissed her more passionately, experimenting with his tongue, coaxing her to do the same, just as Rose had done to him.

When Erin touched her tongue to his, Peter felt a rush of pleasure cascade over him and his dick grew stiff. He shifted his ass on the hard bench and tried to get her to sit on his lap.

Erin sat back with a delicate breath and stared at him. He gazed back with a desire as his dick throbbed.

A few people walked by in the darkness, laughing and joking.

Peter and Erin turned away from each other and waited until the group had vanished, then Peter reached for her again for more kisses. He removed Erin’s mitten and held her hand, rubbing the warm dampness of her palm with his fingers. Her tongue was starting to drive him wild. In a moment of insanity Peter drew her hand to his lap and pressed her fingers into his hardness.

Erin gasped and pulled away as if she’d been burned.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “Really.” The rejection devastated him. All Peter wanted was her lips again.

It was too late. Erin stood and put her mitten on. “It’s okay, Peter. I really should get going.”

Peter got to his feet, brushing against her with his shoulder. “Can I call you? Can I see you again? Or did I fuck it up beyond repair?”

“I don’t want Rose after me, Peter. She’ll kill me.”

Peter grew angry, not at Erin, at Rose. “I’ll take care of Rose, don’t worry.”

They walked back to the fire silently. Erin disappeared into the crowd as Peter stood, watching her go.

Arms encircle Peter’s waist from behind. Peter knew it was Keith without even turning around. He smelled the pot and recognized his brother’s touch. “I’m surprised you can still stand.” Peter glanced over his shoulder.

Keith’s eyes were wild as he laughed. “Who was that? Did Rose-the-slut see this lapse in your judgment?”

“Will you shut up?”

“Did you get laid?” Keith nuzzled into Peter’s hair, inhaling it and jamming his dick into Peter’s ass. “I did,” he purred.

“Get lost.” Peter nudged him.

“Want the details? My big dick shooting its wad into a twat?” Keith gripped Peter tighter around the ribs.

Peter winced in pain and shoved Keith away as Keith roared with hilarity and headed to his waiting friends.

Still recovering from the soreness in his torso, Peter cringed when he heard Rose calling him. He rubbed his eyes as his head began to ache. This night just keeps getting better and better.

Rose’s band of cheerleader friends was still with her, like snakes attached to Medusa’s scalp. When she kissed him Peter recoiled from the alcohol and cigarettes on her breath. “Where’ you been? I’ve been looking for you. I’m horny!” she slurred, grabbing Peter’s crotch and telling her friends, “He has the biggest fucking dick.”

“Jesus!” Peter swatted at her hand and flinched back from her pinching fingers. Peter was weary of the amount Rose enjoyed abusing him in front of her captive audience.

Peter tried to escape as Rose told her friends, “I’ll fill you in on the details later!” She caught up to Peter and held his hand.

That’s it. This is over. Peter escorted Rose to a quiet spot, away from her fan club. He sat Rose on a bench, pacing in front of her. Peter combed his fingers through his hair, desperately trying to uncomplicate his complicated life.

“Let’s go to the grass and make out.” Rose reached for his crotch, attaching to his jeans. “I want you.”

In fury, Peter yanked her hands off of him and stepped back, making sure his zipper was closed. “Rose, stop. I need to talk to you.”

“I don’t want to talk. I want to see your dick.” She grabbed at his jeans again.

Peter knew Rose was lucky he was not his father or his brother, for she was trying what little patience Peter had left. Another member of the Barnes’ family would have backhanded her. Peter pushed her hands away. “Cool it.”

“Peter, why ‘you being such a drag? Most guys want their dicks played with.”

“Jesus, Rose, have a little class.” Peter made sure no one overheard her. With as much patience as possible, Peter tried to get her to focus. “I need you to listen. Rose, will you just listen to me?”

She crossed her arms in a huff, stared at him, popping her gum. “What?”

Peter brushed his long hair away from his eyes as the wind blew in cold gusts. “I don’t think this is working anymore.” He gestured for her to wait as Rose geared up for a rebuttal. “I think it would be best if we cool it for a while.”

“Who is she? I’ll kill her! I swear, Peter, I will!” she yelled. “Don’t do this to me. It’ll work out. What will I tell everyone?”

“That’s the problem. You’re more interested in what everyone else thinks than me.”

“No! That’s not true. Peter, give me a chance. I’ll change. Tell me what I should do. I’ll do anything. Please, Peter. I know we only did it once in my parents’ room. Is that it? Do you want sex again?”

“No. That’s not it. It’s just not working.” With every bone in his body Peter dreaded her tears. When they arrived, he could only shake his head and try not to watch her cry.

“Peter…Come closer, don’t let me cry alone.”

The guilty little boy in him surfaced. Peter kicked at the dirt and took a reluctant step towards her.

Rose held him close and cried mascara-coated tears on his blue jeans.

Peter tried not to grate his teeth at the frustration. He petted her stiff hair lightly, careful not to get caught up in the tangle. “I’m sorry, Rose. I have too much to think about right now. I don’t have time for a relationship.”

She wiped her eyes on his hip. Black mascara ran down her cheeks and she smudged her sky-blue eye make-up. “I don’t need a lot. You don’t have to even see me much at all. Let’s just say we’re still steady, okay?”

“No. I don’t want to go steady with anyone right now.”

Rose broke down into heaving theatrical sobs.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake…” Peter groaned, wanting to go home and get some sleep before the game. As he stood with his arms to his sides, waiting for her to stop crying, Peter raised his head to the full moon as it seemed mock him with its imagined grin.

Finally, Rose sat up and wiped her nose on a tissue from her purse. “Why tonight, Peter? Why on such a special night?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about it and I told you tonight. No reason.”

“Okay, Peter. If that’s what you want...but don’t ever speak to me again.”

He wasn’t surprised it ended with anger and spite, everything else in his life did. “Can I have my jacket back?”

Like a tornado, she stood up, whipping it off. “Sure! Here! Take your damn jacket!”

Peter used both hands to deflect the pelting. “No. I didn’t mean now. You’ll freeze. Give it to me tomorrow.”

In absolute disgust, Rose threw it at him and stormed away.

The silence enveloped him inside and out. Peter stood, holding it, watching as Rose disappeared into the crowd. He felt like a rotten heel who gets what he deserves. Peter took a deep breath and headed for home.

Chapter Five

Peter tossed and turned in agony, spinning like a revolving door. Nightmares plagued him; Erin walking away, pushing Rose away, all culminated in the screaming of the alarm clock at dawn. He was so spent he couldn’t move.

Louise entered his room. “I’m glad you’re awake. Your uniform is in your bag.” She sat on his bed and touched his forehead. “Are you okay, Peter?”

“I slept like crap.”

“You’re a little nervous, that’s all.” She petted his hair back from his forehead lovingly. “What do you want for breakfast? I’ll get it ready while you shower.”

“Just juice.” Peter sat up and rubbed his face.

“You need a good breakfast. I’ll make you some eggs.” Louise kissed his cheek and closed the door behind her.

He tossed back the blankets and stumbled to the bathroom.

The Fair Lawn High-school football bleachers were packed with fans waving banners and screaming as they huddled to keep warm under blankets and woolly hats. On the west side of the field loomed the light blue water tower, graffiti-covered with initials, peace symbols and marijuana leaves, on the east side thundering locomotive engines roared by on the Bergen County main-line train tracks.

Peter’s team won the toss and they chose to receive first. The crowd got to its feet for the opening kick-off.

Rose and the other cheerleaders were barking at the crowd.  Rose wouldn’t meet Peter’s eye unless it was to glare in hatred at him.

At the end of the second quarter, Peter was patted on the back and bottom by his coach and even some of his teammates.

“Well done, Pete,” Coach Jones said.

Peter gave his coach a quick smile in reply and sucked down a bottle of water as the sweat on him dried in the cold wind.

The score was twenty-one to zero, largely because of Peter’s passing ability. During half-time the band made geometric patterns on the field while the players jogged to the locker rooms for their pep talks.

As Peter passed the cheering spectators in the stands, he caught Rose’s scowl under the barrage of red and white pompoms that were flapped in his face.

In the locker room the praise bestowed upon Peter overwhelmed him. Even the seniors were patting his back and laughing. Peter was numb. He couldn’t remember a single play in the whole first half. The only thing real to him was his pain. His ribs were battered repeatedly by Ridgewood’s large defensive line and Peter was having an impossible time taking a deep breath. He wondered if the intense pain showed on his face or if he always appeared to be in agony. He wasn’t about to tell anyone.

When the second half began and Fair Lawn’s defense took the field, Peter sat on the bench as the other team received. His name was called repeatedly from someone in the stands. Peter spun around to see his mother and sister waving their banners and calling to him.

Coach Jones noticed. “Go on. Say hello.” He nudged Peter’s arm. “But be quick.”

Peter jogged with his helmet under his arm to the bleachers. A cheer rose up on his approach and it stunned him.

Louise reached through the metal barrier and hugged him. “You’re wonderful!”

“Come on, Ma.” Peter blushed at the teasing he endured from his classmates who were watching.

“How do you feel? You look a little pale.”

“I’m okay. Just tired.” Peter took a quick peek at the crowd and spotted a black camera lens aimed at him. A sensation of anxiety fluttered in his stomach. When the large telephoto lens lowered, Peter found Erin’s proud smile. Peter gave her a quick grin in return and raced back to the bench.

When the final seconds ticked away, Peter was lifted off his feet and carried to the locker on padded shoulders. Once he was set onto his feet, Peter held his side and bent over, unable to endure the pain in his chest, it was so acute. He cringed in agony and couldn’t catch his breath.

His teammates crowded around him to congratulate him. Peter forced himself to stand tall and ignore the injury. When he found a break in the crimson and grey tide he headed to the water fountain for a drink. The team’s clacking cleats and their victorious cheers echoed in the locker room.

Peter wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and suddenly spotted a familiar figure standing near the entrance of the locker room. Peter was overwhelmed with emotion. He floated beyond the crashing wall of boys to stand eye to eye with this man in a business suit and long black Burberry coat. Without a thought, Peter fell into his embrace. “I can’t believe you came.”

“And I can’t believe that was my son out there. When the hell did you start to play like that?” Richard asked.

Peter blushed at the rare praise, wiping his wet eyes on the shoulder of his father’s wool coat discreetly.

“Get cleaned up. I’m taking your mother and sister out. And Keith, if I can find him in this mob.”

“Okay. I’ll see you over by where Mom was in the stands.”

“Good job, Petey.” Richard cupped Peter’s jaw and gave him a loving smile.

Peter choked up. He nodded, unable to answer verbally. It was one of the few times in Peter’s life when he felt his happiness was complete.

Chapter Six

Peter’s photograph was on the front page of the small local newspaper, the ‘Beacon’. It described the game and a brief biography of the hero, Peter John Barnes, elected MVP of the game.

Back at school after the four day Thanksgiving weekend, Peter suddenly found he was Mr. Popularity. It terrorized him. The one thing Peter counted on was anonymity. This was very embarrassing and he could hardly bear the attention. How did you expect to stay hidden when you’re the captain of the football team, ya jerk? He loved the game. But was it worth this? This sacrifice of his privacy? No! Fuck. No more. I’m quitting the team next year.

The cheerleader clique came toward him down the hall.

Peter had nowhere to hide.

Rose turned away as the rest of the girls kissed Peter’s cheek and congratulated him. A few of them had cut out his picture from the newspaper and carried it with them. Rose looked as if she was about to explode into either tears or rage. “I’m waiting for you guys outside.” She gave Peter the finger and left.

“Bye, Peter!” The girls waved as they followed Rose.

In disgust Peter used his sleeve to wipe any trace of their lipstick off his face, then he noticed Erin leaning against her locker, staring at him.

Peter took a quick look around the hall and approached her.

“I told you you would be terrific.”

“Well, I did better than I expected, I guess.” A rush of heat raced to Peter’s cheeks.

“How’d you like your photo in the paper?”

“I was surprised.”

“I’ve got the original.” Erin opened her book and removed an eight by ten glossy photo from it.

“How did you get this?” Peter took it from her.

“It was one I took of you on game day. My dad works for the newspaper. When I told him I snapped a couple of shots of you from the stands he had them developed. He liked this one.”

Peter stared at his own image critically. It was Keith. He was looking more and more like Keith every year.

It felt awkward between them suddenly. Peter handed Erin back the photo. “I broke up with Rose.”

“I know.”

“Uh...you feel like getting together later?”

She nodded.

“You want me to meet you at your house after dinner?”

“No, that’s too far for you to walk. Just meet me here at the school.”

“Okay. About six o’clock?”

“Yes. I’ll be here.”

“Good.” Peter waved to Erin and walked down the hall.

Maybe there’s hope. Maybe this is the new Peter Barnes. Maybe I don’t have to be in misery every day. Maybe there’s a little ray of sunshine in my life, and she’s called, Erin.

After dinner Peter brushed his hair, dabbed on some aftershave, checked himself out in the mirror, then grabbed his jacket and hopped down the stairs.

Keith had his hand on the front doorknob, yelling good-bye to his mother. “Where you headed, Pete? Need a lift?” he asked.

“Sure. Thanks.” Peter said, “Bye, Ma!” and shut the door behind them.

They climbed into Keith’s red 1975 Mustang. “Don’t you smell good. That better not be my cologne.”

“Err, sorry. It is. Drop me off at school.”

“Why are you heading to the school? What’s happening there?”

“Nothing. I’m just meeting someone there.”

“Rose the slut?”

“No.”

“Who?”

“You don’t know her.” Peter gazed out of the window.

“The blonde at the bonfire?” Keith gave him a wicked grin.

“How the fuck do you know?”

Keith rubbed between his own legs seductively. “She’s some little dish. I wouldn’t mind a taste.”

“Yeah? Well, hands off!”

Keith broke up with laughter as he parked in front of the main entrance.

Peter noticed Erin was already there in the shadows waiting for him. “Thanks, Keith.”

Keith grabbed Peter’s elbow stopping him from climbing out.

Peter glanced back at him curiously. “What?” He knew something strange was going on in Keith’s head, Peter just had no idea what. With Keith, it could be anything. The guy was capable of unspeakable acts of depravity.

In the pause it appeared Keith was trying to think of a reason for delaying Peter.

“What?” Peter threw up his hands.

At first the grip on Peter’s arm increased, then he was released. Keith exhaled tiredly, “Nothing. See you later.”

Peter climbed out of the car, pausing to look back at his brother.

Keith leaned across the seat to see out of the passenger’s side window. Peter could tell he was getting a good look at Erin as she approached.

“Hi, Peter.” Erin leaned down to look in the car. “Is that your brother? You guys look so much alike.”

Peter nodded, wondering why Keith was still there. Peter was about to ask Keith what was going on when he noticed a furious expression on Keith’s face.

A second later, Keith squealed the Mustang’s tires and in a cloud of blue smoke, he vanished.

What the fuck?

“Is he okay?” Erin asked.

“I have no clue. He’s usually too high to have a normal conversation with.”

They walked down the quiet street together, chatting about football and other casual topics trying to overcome their shyness. Flashes of Erin’s kisses haunted Peter every time her soft pink lips came into focus. He kept losing track of her words. They wound up at Memorial Pool, drained for the winter. The dry leaves rotted as they floated on the puddle of mucky water the rain had deposited in the midst of the immense man-made sandy lake.

Erin headed for one of the jungle-gyms and sat on the black rubber pad of a swing.

Peter hopped on the one next to her and swayed gently, digging his feet into the soft dirt under him. “Have you ever been on a swing riding double?” he asked, remembering doing it with Jackie as kids.

Erin shook her head.

“Come here, let me show you.” Peter coaxed Erin around to stand in front of him. “Sit on my lap and tuck your legs through.”

As if she were made of stone, Erin stood staring passed Peter into the dark parking lot.

“What’s wrong? Come on.” Peter reached out for her, guiding her legs as she slipped them out behind him and sat on his lap, holding the chain link over his hands.

Peter gave them a good push off, pumping his legs under her, gaining height.

“I have butterflies in my stomach.” She giggled.

Peter enjoyed her expression in the lamppost’s glow as Erin’s face lit up with joy. She finally settled on his lap after stiffly preventing any contact between them. Peter could tell Erin’s arms were straining as she kept her bottom elevated from actually resting on his legs. When they connected, it created a wonderful pressure and friction that Peter had not anticipated.

The more Erin relaxed, the more pressure Peter felt on his cock. He closed his eyes as his dick grew thick under her, throbbing and eager.

Erin obviously felt something between her legs because she stopped helping Peter move the swing.

Peter opened his eyes and stared at her. “Keep pumping. I want to go higher.” Her body rocking and shifting on him drove Peter delightfully crazy.

Erin made a few timid attempts at keeping them moving.

A maddening sensation of needing to come overwhelmed Peter. He dragged his heels to stop, wrapped his arms around Erin’s tiny waist, and connected to her lips.

Erin’s body completely relaxed and Peter knew she could feel his dick throbbing underneath her.

As if she were once again covered in chocolate, Peter ate at her sweet mouth hungrily, teased to a frenzy. Peter lifted Erin into his arms, carried her to the dead winter grass, and then lay on top of her.

Peter was so excited he was struggling to control himself. Peter touched the skin of Erin’s side with a cold hand and it made her jump. So his chilly digits wouldn’t touch her, he slid his fingers between her shirt and sweater, then started upward to her breast.

Erin panicked. Peter was obviously moving too fast for her. Erin pushed Peter’s hand away and parted from his kisses.

At being nudged, Peter groaned. “Erin, I need you.” Peter found her hand and cupped it over his bulging crotch.

“Peter, we can’t.” Her voice quivered.

“Why not?” Since she hadn’t jerked away like last time, Peter pushed his mound harder into her palm, grinding against it.

“No, Peter.” Erin tried to take her hand back, but Peter held it in place.

“I want you so badly, Erin, please.” Somehow Peter needed to show her the pain he was enduring, the loneliness, the emptiness. With those thoughts in his head, Peter kissed her again.

Erin moaned and squeezed his cock tightly in her palm.

It drove him wild. Peter began tugging up his own jacket, about to open his jeans. “Yes!”

With a gasp of fear, Erin backed Peter off and sat up, tucking in her shirt. “This is crazy. Not like this. In a park.”

It was torture, the games, the misleading signals, the teasing. Peter had no idea how to deal with it. Rose tormented him constantly and during the few weeks they ‘went steady’ Peter had only come once, the first time he and Rose had sex at the party. That was it. The rest of the time Rose was all talk and bragging about things she and Peter never did.

Peter didn’t want to go through that again. Cock-tormenting and no satisfaction. God no. No way. I have got to get something out of this.

Anguish began to overcome Peter. “Where can we go?”

Immediately Erin got free of his weight, stood up and brushed off the leaves from her jacket.

Peter didn’t move, pleading with her silently. They were still very much alone in the hollowness of the massive park. He spread his legs, rubbing his hand over his crotch. Peter knew damn well Keith would get laid if he were here. How did Keith do it? “Can we try it a different way?”

“What way?” Erin tilted her head, crossing her arms impatiently.

“Will you...”

“Will I what?”

“Come back down here. I don’t want to yell it.” Peter reached out for her. Erin knelt down next to him. He tugged her closer to whisper, “Will you suck me?”

A choking sound escaped her throat. “Peter!”

“Erin, I’m going nuts. Please. You don’t know what it’ll mean to me.”

She sat back on her heels and gazed down at him as Peter started to slide his zipper.

“I don’t think so,” Erin said without any feeling.

Betrayal was creeping in on Peter. He dropped his arms to his sides.

“It’s our second date. And that’s only if you count the bonfire as our first. Why did you let yourself get so crazy?”

“You drive me crazy. Can I help it if you make me hot? I want you more than anything.” Peter sat up.

“But you should do those things with someone you love, not just someone you want.” Her breath sent tiny puffs of steam into the coming twilight.

The sting of being the bad little boy burned like fire in Peter’s cheeks. He lowered his eyes in shame, got to his feet and stuffed his hands into his pockets. With his head down, they walked out of the park to the lit up street of Berdan Avenue in silence.

Peter was lost in a haze as Erin led them to Friendly’s ice cream shop on River Road. They sat in a booth and ordered hot chocolate. No words were spoken, not even about school or art. In Peter’s mind, it was finished.

Erin gave up on conversation.

Peter stared at a melting marshmallow and wondered what the hell he was going to do with his life. He raised his head to a commotion.

Keith slid into their booth with his three stoned friends. Six was definitely a crowd. “Hey, little bother.” The smirk on Keith’s face was unnerving.

“What are you doing here?”

“I should ask you that. This is my hang out. Isn’t yours in your bedroom? Jerking off?”

A roar of mocking laughter erupted from Keith’s friends as Peter pushed Keith hard in response. “Shut up.”

Erin’s eyes widened in amazement.

The boys read the menus, waved over the waitress, then sniggered obnoxiously as they made obscene comments about her.

With a blush in her cheeks, Erin looked like she wanted to crawl under the table.

“Hey, guys. Did you see my baby brother got his ugly mug in the paper?” Keith reached into his pocket and uncrumpled the scrap of newsprint, flattening it against the table.

Peter noticed the photo from the Beacon was now complete with a beard, blackened teeth, and horns. Peter shook his head in irritation. “You’re such a dork.” Peter finished his hot chocolate.

Obviously amused at his own wit, Keith thought it was a riot and nudged Peter in the ribs.

When Peter cried out, Keith almost took a second look at his brother to see why, then became distracted once more with the obscene comments of his comrades.

Fuck! Peter rubbed his aching chest as he recovered from the pain. He could smell the marijuana that had permeated his brother’s jacket and assumed Erin could as well. Peter avoided Erin’s fretting gaze, and rubbed his side to soothe it, staring out of the window at the traffic signal at Berdan Avenue and River Road.

Like a herd of slopping hogs, the boys ate their sundaes and made a mess of the table and ashtray.

Peter could tell Erin wanted to leave, but she was pinned in by two of Keith’s friends. She leaned over the table to whisper, “I can’t believe you just sit here and do nothing while your brother wreaks havoc on the table.”

“What the fuck do you want me to do?” Peter noticed Keith trying to overhear.

When the check came Keith asked Peter, “Ya got a couple of spare bucks? I need the money for gas.”

Peter took out his wallet and searched for some bills. In the deep crease Peter found a five and handed it to him. Keith took it and then snatched Peter’s wallet from him, shoving Peter back as he investigated the contents. “What no rubber? Peter, Peter… You should always wear protection.” Keith roared in hilarity and threw Peter his wallet back.

“God! Fuck off! Can’t you leave me alone?” Peter caught his wallet and stuffed it into his pocket.

Keith took the check and tucked it into the front of Peter’s shirt, grinning demonically as the other boys started climbing out of the crowded booth.

Erin finally got her chance to escape. “I have to go to the ladies’ room.”

They all watched her go.

Still seated next to Peter, Keith leaned on Peter’s shoulder and asked, “You fuck her yet?”

“Shut up, will ya?” Peter avoided the drug induced smirks of his brother’s entourage as they broke into a chorus of  “Woooo!”

“Not yet, huh...wanna leave it to a pro?” Keith put his arm around Peter’s shoulder as Peter grew outraged. With a smirk of superiority, Keith grinned up at his buddies and said, “It’s ‘swat happens when you haven’t been laid in months. Or ever.” Instantly, Keith put his hands up comically to ward off the expected blow, but from Peter that would never happen. “Okay, squirt, we’re outa’ here.”

Keith shuffled around on the bench seat, like he was going to leave. He spun around, grabbed Peter’s face and planted a wet kiss on his lips, then rolled over, clutching his gut, laughing at the astonished expression on Peter’s face.

Keith’s comrades roared in hilarity at the joke as they left.

“You’re sick!” Peter wiped off his mouth as his brother walked away.

The waitress stood nearby, glaring at Peter. Peter counted out the money, handing it to her. She grimaced at the sight of the table.

“Sorry,” Peter murmured, sliding out of the plastic seat and walking slowly to the window while he waited for Erin. Peter found his brother still laughing with his friends. That waxed red Mustang was parked right behind the glass where Peter stood. When Keith connected to Peter’s eyes, he gave Peter a generous smile and wink as the boys climbed into Keith’s car.

Erin finally emerged from the ladies room. “Thank God they’re gone.”

Peter didn’t reply.

In silence, he walked Erin home, standing on her porch to say good-night. Without so much as giving her a kiss on the cheek, Peter began the long trek home.

During that walk Peter thought about everything that troubled him until his brain was completely spent. Over and over he asked himself why the girl he wanted, didn’t want to touch him. The one he didn’t want, acted like she did. It was too confusing. He swore off the dating scene before he had even started. Peter just couldn’t be bothered with the effort and frustration, not to mention, the humiliating rejection.

Chapter Seven

Though Peter never would have thought to ask, Richard gave him a Gem microscope for Christmas.

Guilt and repentance had always played a huge role in the mind of Richard Barnes. Forced to attend anger management classes by a judge who was very close to slamming a cell door on him, Richard had no choice but to sit through therapy and with some conscience left in his contemptuous mind, absorbed some of the information they were spouting.

Giving his sons expensive gifts eased Richard’s conscience. That wonderful cycle of abuse they referred to. It was as if they had taught Richard the rules. Pound to a pulp, cry with remorse, lavish with gifts and affection, repeat as needed.

Richard was only allowed supervised visitation, and that was on condition that he kept his fists to himself. Richard did everything but handcuff his wrists behind his back to prevent the threat of never seeing his boys again. He loved them, more than Jackie, but he kept that to himself. Richard thought Jackie was bland and uninteresting, never ‘daddy’s little girl’. More like mommy’s little mouth-piece. It was his boys Richard wanted with him, they were his immortality.

With his new high-powered microscope, Peter spent all his free time looking at things under magnification. He came home from hiking in the snowy woods with pockets full of rocks and quartz samples, dumping them in the sink to clean.

Louise went crazy at the scratches on her porcelain, but Peter was closing in on the option of working as a gemologist, like his dad, and decided to do everything he could to learn the trade. He ignored his mother’s unrelenting screaming and scrubbed the rocks clean.

Peter used every chance he got to pick his father’s brains about gems and crystals. Richard seemed flattered his son took such an interest in his work and offered him the opportunity to go to school for Gemology when he graduated. Peter agreed eagerly and dreamed of the day he’d be out of high-school.

Once again, hope lingered, almost within his fingertip’s reach. One more year of high-school and Peter could do something he enjoyed, instead of walking the halls like a wraith surrounded by mocking demons.

Peter began scanning through the paper for a part-time job. The items he wanted to buy didn’t come cheap, like; gem samples, large hardbound books, and flashy equipment. The black and white printed pages of the Bergen County Record’s want-ads appeared bleak. Most of the jobs for boys his age were for minimum wage and horrible positions. With a shiver, Peter dreaded being a clerk or a busboy.

Then one day during dinner, Keith mentioned, “Hey, check this out. Bergen Community College is searching for art models.” Keith ate another bite of food. “One of the art profs approached me for the job.” Keith puffed out his chest. “They crave my good looks and perfect physique.” He winked at Peter.

“Are you going to do it?” Jackie asked.

“Nah. I just took it as a compliment. I have no intention of stripping bare for dozens of ogling eyes. It pays good though. Fifteen bucks an hour. Believe that? But showing off my big dick is worth a hell of a lot more than that.”

“Keith,” Louise said, shaking her head.

Peter was excited. Fifteen dollars an hour?

“What are you thinking about, Petey?” Keith teased, “My big dick?”

“Huh?” Peter met his gaze. “No. Shut the fuck up.”

“Boys…language?” Louise scolded.

Keith threw Peter a kiss. Peter scowled at him and continued to eat. But Peter knew exactly what he was going to do with that tidbit of information.

The next day after school Peter hopped the bus for the campus and applied for the job. After his hour long interview with the head of the art department and an art teacher, Peter brought home the packet of paperwork. Since he was under eighteen, he asked his mother to fill out the working papers.

“No, Peter. Nude modeling?”

“Mom, please. It’s the only way I can make any decent money for only two or three hours a night. And it’s not nude.” Yeah it is. So what?

“Fine. I just wish you’d get a job doing something else.”

“Just sign it. Please.”

She did with extreme reluctance.

Each night after dinner Peter either rode the bus to work or Keith would give him a lift if he was headed out.

“You tell anyone we’re brothers and I’ll kill you,” Keith said.

“What the hell do you care? You’re not in any of the art classes.” Peter slouched in the passenger’s seat of the Mustang.

“I see your stupid pictures hanging up in the gallery. I know people think it’s me.” Keith stopped in the parking lot of the main campus. “You walk to the art building, asshole.”

“Fine. Be a jerk.” Peter opened the door.

“Hey.” Keith grabbed Peter’s sleeve. “I at least saved you a fucking bus trip.”

“I know. Thanks, Keith.” Peter gave him a weak smile and walked across the frosty, hilly campus lawn.

Peter’s internal dialogue ran a constant series of self-flagellating narrations while, head down, he made his way to the class. Why are you doing this? You already go to school full time taking college prep courses when you don’t want to go to college. Do you really want to buy gemology equipment?

“I’m so fucking lost.” Peter felt as if he couldn’t make a sensible decision. Do what? Be what? A doctor? A lawyer? A bum? Just kill me. Someone, please. I don’t have the guts to do it myself.

The art building was illuminated from within. This was his third week of modeling and he had become used to stripping for the students. Even the first day Peter was so preoccupied with other thoughts, he took off his clothing and sat perfectly still in the circle of easels as he listened to the scribbling of charcoal and conte crayons on paper pads. It wasn’t until Jerry Smith, the instructor, actually called Peter’s name several times that Peter woke out of his trance.

The evening adult education class consisted mainly of older women. Some with talent, others just bored housewives dabbling in a hobby. The first time they experienced Peter as their model he could tell they were alarmed by his age.

It wasn’t difficult to overhear their shocked whispers in the small studio. ‘My word! He’s just a boy!’ ‘How old does an art model have to be?’ ‘I have no idea? I wouldn’t let my son do this.’

Peter ignored it. It shook them up more than it did him. It only took one session to calm them down. Peter knew if he just did his job without acting like a juvenile delinquent, he’d win them over.

Word spread quickly and the attendance grew as late comers enrolled in the already expanding art class.

Jerry said to Peter on their previous night of class, “I knew damn well that having an attractive model would get me more students.” Jerry winked. “That’s why I supported your hiring. You’re awesome, Peter. I have no complaints.”

“Thanks.” Though Peter smiled in reply, he couldn’t care less. He just wanted to get his cash and go home.

The class size had doubled since the first day and during the last session Jerry began discussing an elaborate oil painting project with the students.

Tonight the halls smelled like oil paint and linseed oil. Peter was early so he leaned against the wall near the locked classroom door. The classroom was down a tiny cubicle-like corridor, a dim offshoot of the main hall. Peter watched students walk by, hardly glancing his way. He removed his leather jacket and folded it over his arm. It was stuffy in the building and the plasterboard wall felt cool to the touch.

While he waited, Peter thought about an amethyst set in one of his mother’s rings. It had a funny blue/purple flash that he thought made it appear imitation. It was flawless and he found no other reason to suspect it, but he did. The Gemscope his dad gave him was only one tool in an arsenal of equipment Peter needed to identify colored stones. It was why he was modeling. Money to buy a polariscope and a refractometer.

I’m insane. Most guys my age save for a car.

Peter rubbed his face, sighing tiredly. Counting in his head, he tried to figure out how many more sessions he would have to pose to buy what he wanted. It angered him everything was so damn expensive.

Preoccupied and exhausted, Peter never noticed one of the students was standing right in front of him, smiling, until she was almost brushing against him.

She was very pretty and petite. Peter estimated her to be in her thirties. She dressed for each class in colorful blouses, tight skirts with leather boots. She had brilliant blue eyes and her hair was strawberry blonde, long and full.

Peter felt as if he were waking from a deep slumber and straightened his back upright nervously.

“Peter, I’m sorry I startled you. You were lost in thought. I can’t imagine what a boy your age has to think so deeply about.” She stepped closer. “You’re very intense for your age. You should lighten up and have more fun.”

Peter cleared his throat. “I do have fun, Mrs...”

“Wendy.” She smiled sweetly at him.

“Wendy,” he repeated back.

“And I’m a widow, Peter, I lost my husband a few years ago.” She paused and stared at him. “I love the hue of your eyes. I can’t wait to paint them, get their image on canvas; emerald green mixed with Aegean blue.”

Peter averted his gaze from her unnerving stare and looked at his own feet. “I’m really sorry you lost your husband.”

“It’s all right. It doesn’t hurt too much anymore.” Wendy brushed Peter’s long hair back from his face.

Peter was stunned at her assertiveness. Immediately he made eye contact with Wendy.

“Why, Peter, you’re blushing.” Wendy moved even closer into his personal space. “Did I embarrass you?”

Peter’s back hit the wall behind and he held his breath. Wendy was very attractive, way too attractive. If he peeked, he could see down her blouse. He peeked. Oh, my God. He was in agony.

When Peter found the courage to look back into her eyes, he read a glare of seduction. “No, uh, I’m not embarrassed. It’s just very hot in here for some reason.”

Wendy caressed Peter’s cheek like a lover. “You’ll cool down once you take off all of your clothing.”

The lump in Peter’s throat almost choked him, he was dying of embarrassment. When Jerry’s jingling keys were heard nearby, Wendy backed away from Peter.

Jerry, in his own cloud of oblivion, greeted them with a smile and unlocked the door, turning on the lights as he went. Wendy and Peter followed him.

Peter headed to his usual chair, sitting calmly as the class filled up, trying to get the contact with Wendy out of his mind. Now.

When the minute hand of the wall clock landed on the hour, Jerry nodded for Peter to undress.

Peter inhaled a deep breath and rubbed of his hand on his sore ribs. He faced the wall as he had done for the last few weeks, gazing at the paint spatters on the whitewash, and removed his shirt. He sat down to tug off his boots and socks. When Peter stood to take off his jeans and briefs, he peeked over his shoulder to find a few people who were watching turn away. Wendy smiled at him boldly.

He’d been posing without a hitch and wondered why he felt especially nervous tonight. Peter turned his back to the class once more and stripped the lower part of his garments off, folding his things neatly on a chair. Then he turned around, feeling slightly dizzy from his nerves.

Jerry obviously noticed something odd in Peter’s expression and started talking to the class about the oil painting and possible poses.

With a wave of anxiety sifting down through Peter’s internal organs, Peter took a dry swallow and stepped onto the platform. For the first time since this employment began, Peter didn’t really look at these people. Forty students, men and women, ages twenty to sixty-five, crammed easel to easel, all staring at him naked. In absolute terror, Peter wondered suddenly, what the hell he was doing.

Jerry kept talking, tossing around ideas for the pose while keeping his eye on Peter. A couch was set up with a sheep skin pelt covering it. Jerry asked Peter to try a few reclining positions.

Peter lay on his side as Jerry suggested a few variations of angles for Peter’s arms and legs. They finally settled for Peter lying on his left side with his head being propped up on his left hand, while his right hand rested on his right knee, which was bent. Peter had some reluctance at having his legs apart, but he knew the pose had the nicest angles and lines for a painting.

Wendy had one of the best possible views from what Peter considered his most embarrassing side. Peter was about to die of humiliation.

Wendy bit her lip in concentration as her fingers covered with charcoal. When she caught Peter’s gaze she winked.

Like lightning, Peter darted his eyes away, wishing he were anywhere else at the moment but naked on a paint-stained couch.

It was silent except for the timer ticking and charcoal snapping in eager fingers.

It occurred to Peter why tonight was so difficult. His mind was curiously blank. He wasn’t running a steady stream of internal narration. Instead, he was observing his surroundings for the very first time, studying every person as they studied him. Even though each session Peter drifted off into his own private hell, the conversations between individuals had sunk in subconsciously. He even remembered trivial facts about some of the students; the tall blond man was an engineer, the sixty-five year old gray-haired woman had three grandchildren, the woman with the floral print cooking apron protecting her clothing taught kindergarten, the heavyset man with the receding hairline was a retired cook, then there was the policeman, the realtor, the housewife…all staring at his naked body. Every inch of skin, every hair.

Wendy. His glance kept finding her. She was by far the most beautiful. Peter wondered why he never noticed her before. I never noticed anything before.

When Wendy turned sideways Peter could see into her blouse, her lacy bra, her exposed chest. His cock twitched.

Oh God no. He had to keep forcing himself to look away. What’s her life like, all alone? A widow? She’s so young.

The timer chimed and Jerry approached Peter with masking tape to mark his position on the couch. Peter was so stiff he had trouble moving out of his pose. His wrist was aching from being bent back. Finally the critical lines of his body were taped to the couch and marked. Peter stood up to stretch his achy limbs. A tatty classroom model’s robe was left draped over his chair. Peter put it on to cover himself between poses.

One of the older ladies called Peter over to show him her work. It was the first time Peter could remember being addressed directly in class. He walked carefully, avoiding all the tightly packed easels and the fresh paint that had been set out on pallets. As Peter made his way to her, he peeked over the shoulders of a few paintings, surprised that some of them had really captured the pose.

Suddenly Peter felt obligated to check each sketch and not play favorites. He ended up at Wendy’s easel. She was still adding the lines of the sofa in clean confident strokes. Peter gasped at her angle of vision. She had been looking directly between his legs. Peter’s form was foreshortened and the closet body part to where Wendy stood was Peter’s knees and thighs.

Judging the way Wendy worked, Peter could tell this woman was aggressive, confident, and very talented. She spared no details for accuracy. Peter inspected the drawing of his dick, balls and ass crack and went into a deep blush. Oh my God. Shoot me!

Wendy set down her charcoal and wiped her hands on a rag. “Well? What do you think, Peter?”

A choke, a stuttered, then a shake of the head was all he managed, completely at a loss.

Wendy turned towards him and laughed. “No Rembrandt, eh, Peter?”

Peter cleared his throat. “No...it’s very good. I’m amazed. Really.” I want to die.

Jerry asked, “You ready, Peter? It’s time to pose again.”

Peter hurried away from Wendy, removing his robe. With the help of the students calling out adjustments, Peter found his original position on the sofa.

A long three hours later, Peter reached for his clothing. The smell of linseed oil and turpentine was strong and made him feel as if he were a tipsy. He was very tired and thought of the long bus ride home with a sigh.

Jerry waited for Peter to finish getting dressed before he approached him. “Extra tired tonight, Pete?”

“Yeah, I’m really beat.”

“Get some rest. I’ll see you Thursday.”

“See ya.” Peter headed to the lobby and zipped up his leather jacket. He checked his pocket for bus fare and stepped out into the icy air. It was January and light snow fell in silence. Peter squinted up at the spinning flakes and caught one on his tongue.

“Peter?”

Jarred out of his stupor, Peter turned toward a curl of smoke and a glowing cigarette.  “Wendy?”

“Do you need a lift home?”

“No, it’s all right, I really don’t mind taking the bus.”

“Nonsense. My car’s this way.” She crushed out her cigarette with her boot and they walked side by side to the parking lot.

“I really appreciate this. I hope it’s not out of your way.”

“If you’ve got a car and gas, nothing’s out of the way.” She smiled.

A cherry red Ferrari was illuminated under one of the tall lamps. It was parked all by itself. Peter was surprised they were headed to it.

“That’s your car?” he asked.

She put her box of oil paints in the trunk, unlocked her side and climbed in, unlocking his. The car ignited and purred like a tiger. Wendy lowered the blasting Emerson, Lake and Palmer’s Brain Salad Surgery on the radio and belted herself in.

“Holy shit.” Peter touched the dashboard and the leather interior, completely awestruck. “I can’t believe you have a car like this.”

“Should I be insulted?” Wendy put the manual gearshift into reverse, appearing very confident in her skills.

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”

The windshield wipers pushed the wet snow into slushy narrow mounds on the glass edges. Peter was so weary he became hypnotized by the motion.

Wendy stopped at the light that led off campus to Paramus Road. “Which way?”

“Oh, left. I live in Fair Lawn.” He told her the address.

“I know the street.” She shifted gear and glanced at Peter’s profile. “How old are you, Peter?”

“Seventeen,” he replied shyly.

“Funny, you don’t look seventeen. I would have guessed nineteen or twenty.” They stopped for another signal and she stared at him again.

Peter finally found the guts to meet her eyes.

She asked, “What are your future plans?”

With some reluctance at being the one speaking and not listening, Peter said, “I intend on attending gemology school in New York.”

“Wow. I’m impressed.” Wendy rested her hand on the stick shift. “I’ll bring you some of my jewelry. You can tell me if I’ve gotten ripped off or not.”

“Sure, if you want.”

The light changed and Wendy turned right at the intersection, resting her hand on Peter’s thigh. A large diamond ring on her right ring finger sparkled in the flickering light. “You’re a fantastic model. The best I’ve seen in a long time. You have a gorgeous body, hardly that of a seventeen year old. You’re so big and muscular.” With a very seductive grin, Wendy stared directly at Peter’s crotch. “I think you’re trying to tell me you’re underage to discourage me. Am I right?” She winked at him.

There was no way for Peter to gulp the lump down his dry throat. Wendy’s squeezed his thigh tightly causing his cock to grow hard in his jeans.

She turned down his street and slowed her speed, immediately resting her hand back on Peter’s thigh. “Which house, Peter?”

Wendy massaged his quadriceps, rubbing and kneading it sensuously.

“Peter?”

“Hmm?”  Peter gazed at her fingers, his cock throbbing as it bent down the leg of his pants. He was lost on the contact and barely heard what she asked.

“Your house?” She giggled.

“Keep going, left side.”

The car came to a halt. Wendy shut the headlights.

“Thanks, Wendy.” Peter tried to come back to reality and found her eyes in the dimness.

“It’s my pleasure, Peter, anytime.”

Peter fumbled up and down the door trying to locate the handle, growing more embarrassed and frantic.

As smooth as silk, Wendy leaned over him, sliding her hand between his thighs as if she were a slithering golden snake. When her face was right in front of his, Peter froze and pushed back into the seat, holding his breath.

Wendy brushed her chest against his as she sat back. “Goodnight, Peter,” she purred.

Peter felt the urge to come in his pants. He was ready to burst. Giving himself a minute, Peter let out a thin breath, attempting to recover. He pushed the door open gently, climbed out and stepped back as he closed it.

Like a wink, Wendy blinked the headlights and drove away. His heart beat wildly under his bruised ribcage, vapors of air puffed from his lips. Peter gazed up at the mounting snow and sighed, walking slowly into the house.

His mother and Jackie were in front of the television in the den. Before he headed up to his bedroom Peter poked his head into the room and said hi. They gave him a wave back.

The light was on in Keith’s bedroom. Peter stopped at Keith’s open door to say goodnight and found Keith lying naked on the bed with headphones on, his eyes closed, his hands between his legs.

Abruptly Peter shut his mouth, backed away soundlessly, and went to his own room to get ready for sleep.

Weary from a long day and night, Peter wasn’t naked, but lowered his briefs down his thighs. With thoughts of Wendy, he jacked off, coming quickly and stifling his grunt of pleasure. Peter recuperated before he got cleaned up, staring at the ceiling wishing for things that could never be.

Chapter Eight

The next morning in homeroom Peter heard snickering. He took a paranoid glance over his shoulder and found a pod of cheerleaders eying him with undisguised contempt.

Great. Peter turned his back to them tiredly. His popularity had waned like the one hit wonders of the summer air waves. He was through trying to date or hang out with anyone. He’d given up all after school activities, and teens being quick to judge, Peter became the topic of gossip.

Rose was his worst adversary. With sickening delight, she spread tales about him, saying he was gay, and that was why they broke up, or that Peter was mentally retarded and needed mind altering drugs to keep him sedated.

Peter assumed few believed any of the stories, but with Peter giving everyone the cold shoulder, he wasn’t helping his case either.

Erin avoided him as well.

Peter never called her after the last date. He gave up. What was the point? Besides, now that he had met Wendy, she was all Peter could think about.

Later that day, Peter sat alone in the cafeteria room to eat a sandwich.

“Peter!”

He grabbed his chest at the volume of the voice and spun around. “Erin! Don’t do that.”

“Peter, look!” She shoved a piece of paper in front of him.

Peter stood, knocking his chair over and died. “Where did you get this?”

“I pulled it off the wall in the student lounge. But photocopies of this picture are flooding the school. Peter, I’ve seen them passed under desks, on bulletin boards, in all the restrooms. They’re even pinned up in the girls’ locker room.”

“What?” Peter felt pale. “How?”

“Is it you then? It looks like you, but I just couldn’t be sure.”

“Oh my God. No. This can’t be happening.” Peter crushed the paper in anguish. “I’ve got to find out who’s got them.”

“Peter? Why are you posing naked?”

“It’s for the community college. I get paid for it.”

“Oh, Peter...” Erin shook her head.

Frantic and definitely not thinking straight, Peter dumped his food scraps into a trash can, grabbed his backpack and hurried to the hall. “Come on, let’s make sure there aren’t any more around.”

He and Erin jogged through the corridors, ripping down the few they found. It was making Peter physically sick to see them everywhere. Some of the photocopies had nasty little additions added to his anatomy and the scene was becoming his worst nightmare.

Echoing smirks and laughter followed them in the halls.

Madness was gripping Peter as he tried to shut it all out. The pain of the knowledge and betrayal of one of the art students stabbed him in the chest like a dull letter opener.

“Well…If it isn’t our pin-up boy.”

Peter stopped short and spun around. Rose stood smugly with her little group of friends.

I have got to fucking deal with this. Peter approached Rose warily. “Was it you that found out?”

After a glance at her peers, Rose smiled triumphantly. “Nice bod. But I already knew that, didn’t I? Along with all my best friends. Right girls?”

A sense of disorientation gripped Peter as he stepped closer. “Where did you get it?”

“That’s for me to know, and you to find out.” She snorted.

Something possessed Peter, something violent. Acting as if he were his brother or father, Peter ground his jaw at the rage rising in him. He grabbed Rose roughly making her drop the books she was holding. “Where did you get it?”

It stunned her. No one had seen Peter angry and he read the intimidation wash over Rose instantly.

Rose glanced at her friends, looking for support, but they had all backed away.

Peter tried his best not to kill her. He shook her to get her to pay attention to what he was saying. “Where?”

Rose’s bravado had almost completely evaporated. “My grandmother’s in your class. I’ve seen all her work. She’s very talented. And accurate,” she mocked, but Peter felt Rose tremble.

It disgusted him. What was he supposed to do? Pummel Rose in the hallways? Assault a female? In fury, Peter pushed her away but it wasn’t with any real power.

Rose regained her balance easily.

“If I see any more of them around, I’ll kill you.” Peter knew he was helpless to do a damn thing. He lowered his head and walked away.

With the gap between them growing, Rose said, “Yeah, sure you will, pin-up boy.”

Erin followed Peter at a distance. Peter was smoldering. He entered the vacant gymnasium, sat down on the bleachers, and covered his face with his hands.

Erin sat next to him. “Find out who her grandmother is and tell her.”

“I intend to.” Peter fought back the tears and let out a painful sigh.

“Oh, Peter...”

“Why do you keep saying that? ‘Oh Peter! Oh Peter!’” he snapped angrily.

Erin appeared stunned and bit her lip. After a moment she asked, “Peter, what’s wrong? You’re so unlike yourself. Do you feel all right? Can I help?”

Peter rubbed his eyes roughly and exhaling a long stressful breath. “I don’t know why people keep bothering me. Why can’t they just leave me alone?”

“Why did you take that modeling job?”

“I need money to buy stuff.”

“Can’t your folks help?”

“No. They don’t want to spend hundreds of dollars. I can’t ask them to.” Peter unfocused his gaze into the depths of the gymnasium. “Where else can I find a job that pays someone my age fifteen dollars an hour?”

“Fifteen dollars?” she gasped.

“Yes. That’s what I make for modeling.”

“Phew. Now I understood why you do it. I wish I could help you.” Erin reached into her pocket and removed three dollar bills and coins, then handed it to Peter. “It’s all I have. Here.”

Peter gaped at her in surprise. It touched him so deeply, he brought Erin into an embrace. “No, you keep it,” he whispered, “but thanks so much for listening.”

Chapter Nine

Thursday evening Peter rode a bus headed to the college, gazing wistfully out of the foggy windows until his stop. He’s boots crunched on the frozen snow as he crossed the half-full parking lot to the minimalist, sixties-designed, glass and steel building.

Jerry was already in the art studio setting up. “Hi, Peter.”

“Hi, Jerry.”

“You want some hot tea?” Jerry gestured to his Thermos.

“Yes, thanks.” Peter waited as Jerry poured it into a Styrofoam cup. Peter sipped it, warming his hands.

“You’re doing an excellent job modeling. Jeff Atkins, the sculpture instructor—”

“Yes.”

“Yes?” Jerry asked curiously.

“Tell him, yes, I’ll model for him. When does he need me?”

Jerry studied Peter’s face. “What’s driving you, Peter? Do you enjoy the work that much or is it just the money?”

“I have some things I really want to buy. I need the money.”

“Sit down.” Jerry signaled with a nod of his head, then sat next to Peter, leaning on his shoulder. “You aren’t involved in taking drugs, are you, Peter?”

Peter stared at Jerry’s neatly trimmed beard, his gently receding hairline, and finally met his brown eyes. “No, Jerry, I don’t take drugs. I don’t even smoke cigarettes.”

“Then what do you need so badly?”

Peter lowered his eyelashes and stared into the steaming brew. “A refractometer and a polariscope.”

Jerry tilted his head. “I expected you to say a Ford or a Chevy. A what?”

“It’s to identify gemstones. Never mind.”

Jerry scratched his beard. “You amaze me, Peter. Are you an Einstein or something?”

“Ha. Far from it. Anyway, tell Jeff I will. When’s his class?”

“He does Saturdays. It’s a five hour session and it’s a bitch. Can you handle it?”

“Yes, I’ll be there.” Peter nodded.

“You’re the man.” Jerry nudged him and winked.

As the class started to fill up once more, Jerry patted Peter’s back. “Get ready, Pete.”

Peter finished his tea and tossed out the cup. He dropped his jacket on a chair and began removing his clothing with his back to the door. Peter could hear everything going on behind him as the students exchanged conversation and set up their easels.

When Peter was down to his briefs, he glanced back at the class. Wendy was standing at her easel eyeing him. She mouthed sensuously, “Hello.”

The timing alarmed him. Her sexy grin made Peter’s cock bolt upright just as he had his thumbs in his waistband to take off his underwear. Fuck!

Inhaling, facing the wall Peter calmed down enough to strip. Once Peter was naked, he forced himself to gain control before he faced the crowd. His vision came to rest on Wendy’s narrow waist in her denim skirt. How her pink sweater fit tautly over her full chest. Her narrow black leather boots with the high spiky heels seemed to adhere to her calf muscles.

Peter lost himself, his thoughts raced in a million different directions all coming into focus on one thing. Wendy.

And she smiled wickedly at him as if she had naughty thoughts of her own. It seemed to Peter that Wendy deliberately kept eye-contact with him as she removed her sweater, revealing a dark blouse so sheer Peter could see the pattern of her black bra through it.

No. Oh, God no. To his horror, he felt a tingle of desire race over his body and his cock throb. He turned away and cupped his hand over his dick. The last thing he needed was a goddamn hard-on. Inhale. Exhale. Calm the fuck down.

With his heart pounding in his throat, Peter admonished himself. Stop looking at her! He was about to face the utter humiliation of a body he could not control. Instantly, Peter remembered Rose and the drawings that circulated the school. It was enough to lose his semi-erection. Only then did Peter give the class a full frontal view.

With Jerry’s help, Peter fell into the pose on the couch comfortably and tried to think about other things. He was doing well avoiding Wendy.

During a break Wendy called Peter over to see her painting. His limbs feel like lead as he made his way over to her obediently. Wendy had begun adding color and the portrait sprang to life. She held Peter gently around his waist, clutching his robe in her fingers.

“What do you think, Peter?” She pressed her breasts into his arm.

It made Peter grit his teeth in longing. As his cock grew rock hard under the robe, Peter excused himself politely and walked away, beginning the task of finding Rose’s grandmother.

Wendy listened curiously as Peter explained his problem to an older woman. Wendy smiled to herself. Well, sweetie, you are stunning. And seventeen. Control yourself. He’s jailbait.

Her brain knew it, but her body didn’t. Wendy was so hot from staring at Peter naked, she began obsessing over him.

Break time was up and Peter headed back to the platform. Wendy savored the moment when Peter dropped his robe over the chair. I want to lick every inch of you. My God. Look at you.

The rest of the evening, Wendy tried to catch Peter’s eye with little luck. She knew why. It kept a smile on her face.

During the last twenty minute pose Wendy noticed Peter steal a glance at her. It delighted her. Wendy gave him her sexiest smile, then leaned over to lift a tube of paint out of her box. Before she straightened her back, she caught Peter staring down her blouse. Wendy purposely hesitated until Peter caught her eye, then stood upright and winked at him.

Peter closed his eyes. Wendy could see him inhale a deep breath as his body reacted against his will. As Peter’s dick swelled, Wendy’s crotch went wet.

Peter took a quick peek at the timer. It showed one minute left. He prayed he wouldn’t do anything stupid. Stop looking at Wendy’s tits, you moron! He focused on Rose’s grandmother until, to his relief, the timer rang. Peter climbed stiffly off the sofa and into his clothes.

“Great job, Pete. Get some rest.” Jerry handed Peter a check.

After reading the amount, Peter thanked Jerry and folded it into his pocket. Peter sat down to put his boots on. He noticed Wendy packing up hastily, keeping her eye on him.

Peter dawdled until Wendy had her oil paint box in her hand and met him at the door. Like two old friends, they walked down the hallway together.

“Let me give you a lift.”

“No, really. I can’t have you going out of the way all the time for me.”

“It’s not out of the way.”

“But it’s got to be inconvenient.”

“Nonsense.”

Peter spotted the Ferrari, frosty in the cold and gleaming under a lamppost. Wendy lit a cigarette, took a few puffs and crushed it out before she got in the car. The engine ignited with a roar then it purred seductively.

As if she suddenly remembered something, Wendy snapped her fingers. “Peter, I forgot to bring you my jewelry. Would you mind a quick detour? Or do you have to be home or something?”

Peter checked the clock on the dashboard. It was only nine o’clock. “No, not right away, it’s okay.”

Wendy smiled and accelerated out of the lot.

They parked in a driveway at a house in Ridgewood located a few miles north of Peter’s home. Peter knew the neighborhood and realized how expensive the homes were, the highest prices in the county.

With her long painted pink nails, Wendy touched the remote control on her visor and the garage door opened. Peter heard the barking of dogs coming from inside the house.

Wendy climbed out of the car and opened the door which connected to the kitchen. Three dogs rushed out; a Golden Retriever, a German Shepherd, and a Yorkshire Terrier. They greeted her excitedly and then rushed to Peter for a sniff.

Peter gave each dog a caress on the head and trailed Wendy and the wagging tails deeper inside the room. There was a man in the kitchen; tall, good looking, with an apron tied around his hips. He greeted Wendy, then Peter.

“Peter, this is Steve Baker. Steve, this is Peter.”

“Nice to meet you.” Steve smiled.

Wendy tilted her head for Peter to follow her up a staircase.

As Peter climbed he admired the rich décor of the split-level and the textures of the minimalist furniture and polished wood floors below. “I thought you said you were a widow. Is he your boyfriend?”

Wendy laughed. “No, Steve’s my employee. Sort of a maid, I guess. He keeps the place clean and cooks my meals. He’s really wonderful.”

What the hell? Peter’s eyes widened as he tried to imagine that handsome man down there working as a maid. Peter wasn’t buying it. Why would any man want that job?

Wendy turned on a light in her bedroom. The dogs hopped on her bed and lay down, tongues panting. She picked a box up off the dresser and brought it to Peter. “Well, here you go. Have fun.” She dumped the contents of soft felt bags out carelessly, sitting next to him. The little Yorkie climbed on her lap.

Peter thumbed through the collection, stunned by what he found. With care, Peter eyed a necklace, thinking it looked just like the photos he’d seen in his books from the great auction houses in New York. He cursed under his breath and wished he’d brought his eye loupe with him. These diamonds were worthy of a closer inspection.

“Something wrong? They’re not paste, are they?” she asked like the answer really didn’t make a difference to her.

“No.” Peter looked up at her quickly. “They’re real all right. I just wish I had my loupe with me.” Methodically, Peter began to lay them out on the bed so he could admire them. As he did he tried to calculate their worth. Peter was in awe at the amount and the value of the collection.

“You can take them with you. I don’t ever wear them.”

“What?” He stared at Wendy in disbelief. “No. I couldn’t. What if I lost them or was robbed?”

“It’s okay, take them. I know they’ll be okay with you.” Wendy pushed them closer to him.

As delicately as he could, Peter put them away. His hands trembled from his nerves.

The big black and tan shepherd rested his chin on Peter’s leg, gazing up with large brown eyes. Peter smiled and stroked his ears. He adored animals. Wouldn’t it be nice to have a life that was filled with good things?

Wendy tried to see into that pretty head of his, watching Peter intently. The only sound she could hear was the man downstairs running the tap water. “Peter?” Wendy wanted the attention of those green eyes again. “Would you be interested in earning some extra money?”

Like she had literally read his mind, Peter brightened up.

“Would you pose for me? Here? Alone? I’d like to do more work of you and there aren’t enough hours in class.”

“Sure. Same rate as I get at school? Fifteen an hour?”

“Don’t worry. It’ll be worth your while.” She grinned in devilish delight at his innocence.

“When? I’m working Tuesday and Thursday in the oil painting class, and now I have a sculpture class on Saturdays. All day.”

“I’d hate to steal your only free day away, but I’m available for Sundays.”

“Okay. Sundays.” Peter leaned over to look at the German Shepherd’s big brown eyes. A pink, moist tongue lapped at his face. Peter chuckled and wiped his face off with his sleeve.

“Lancelot likes you,” Wendy said. “Come with me, Peter. Let me show you my work.”

The dogs hopped up with her and wagged their tails in a flurry of fur. Wendy turned back to Peter, seeing Peter gathering the jewels hastily. Wendy removed a soft silk satchel from a drawer and stuffed everything from the box into the lined center, then handed it to him with a smile.

Peter returned her smile as she spun out of the door to her studio.

Wendy illuminated an overhead light. It lit an area with an extended ceiling and skylights, black now from the dense evening sky. Her paintings were on large canvases, much larger than real life. Women in flowered dresses, her ‘maid’ in jeans, smiling seductively, her dogs, in rich oils, their likeness, fantastic. Peter closely examined each one, but never spoke.

Wendy followed him with her eyes as she sat on the couch with her pets. She studied Peter as he concentrated, standing before each painting.

When Peter stood before Wendy’s self portrait, she said, “I did that one years ago.”

Peter turned to look at her. It seemed he was comparing her image to the one on the canvas.

His expression made Wendy ignite with heat. He was so fucking beautiful. So fresh and young and sweet. Yet— he was so very quiet. “Peter? Would you like a drink?”

Still clutching the jewels to him like he was afraid he’d lose them if he set them down, Peter shrugged.

“Come here. You can put those over there.”

Appearing responsible for their well being, Peter placed them carefully on a table and sat on the couch after Wendy shoved the Golden Retriever off.

Wendy stood at the top of the stairway and called Steve’s name. He answered. “Two cognacs please!” she said.

Wendy gave Peter an adoring smile before she sat down again and put her arm on the back of the couch behind him. It delighted her Peter was shy to meet her eyes.

After only a brief moment sitting in silence, Steve came in with two glasses, handing them each one with a sly knowing grin. “Anything else?”

“No, that should be fine. Thanks, dear.” She winked at Steve. Yes, Peter is gorgeous, and yes, I will devour him.

The smirk still on his lips, Steve headed back to the staircase.

Oblivious to the communication between she and Steve, Peter sniffed the contents of the glass curiously, took a sip, licking it off his lip.

Wendy rested her head in her palm and stared at Peter contentedly. “You are so beautiful.”

“No, I’m not.”

Wendy scooted closer and touched Peter’s hair. “I think so. Why don’t you?”

He stared into his glass and shrugged.

“Will you come here this Sunday?” Unable to resist touching him, Wendy combed her fingers through his long silky, brown hair.

“Yes.” Peter shivered visibly.

“What time?”

“When do you want me?” He turned his head to make eye contact with her finally.

As the wicked thought and line almost slipped out of her lips, Now, naked, she smiled. “Early suit you? The light is best in the morning.”

“Sure.” Peter took another hesitant sip of the strong liquor and swirled it in the glass.

“Tell me about yourself.”

“What do you want to know?”

“How about starting with your family?”

Peter turned his knees so he was facing her.

The dogs were on the floor in front of them, napping.

“I have one brother, one sister, one mother, one father.”

When that was all he said, Wendy started laughing, catching the impish glint in Peter’s eye. “Very good. I guess that sums that up.”

Peter chuckled softly. When he met Wendy’s eyes again, his grin disappeared and it morphed into some kind of pain or fear he was suffering.

Wendy focused on those salmon pink lush lips of his.

Appearing self-conscious, Peter swallowed more alcohol.

Wendy was about to go for him. Pin him down, suck his mouth, rip his clothing off. Why do I have a conscience? He’s seventeen! Get a grip on yourself, Wendy!

She set her drink down and stood. “I should get you home, Peter.”

Nodding in agreement, Peter put his glass next to hers.

Wendy handed Peter the sack of jewels. “Coming?” I want him. Goddamn it. I really want him.

The bitterness of the gap in their ages angered Wendy. She found her keys and said, “See ya soon,” to Steve as they past him in the hall.

She and Peter didn’t speak the entire drive home.

When Wendy returned to her house, she dropped on her bed and buried her face in her hands.

Chapter Ten

Saturday morning Richard stopped by his ex-wife’s house for a visit. He found Peter in his room seated at his desk, examining pieces of jewelry. Richard glanced over Peter’s shoulder curiously. “What have you got there?” When Peter didn’t answer, Richard picked up one of the neckpieces and inhaled in surprise. “Peter? Where the hell did you get these?”

Peter sat back from the Gemscope and gazed sheepishly up at him. “A woman I met in the art class at the college gave them to me to look at.”

“What art class?” Richard picked up the ten-powered eye loop which sat on Peter’s desk and inspected the diamonds in the necklace.

Peter didn’t reply and turned back to look through the scope.

Richard waited impatiently. “What art class?” he repeated more forcefully. Again, Peter did not respond. Richard had a very short fuse and struggled not to backhand Peter for his insolence. He set the diamond neckpiece down and physically turned Peter’s chair to face him. “I asked you a question, young man.”

Even though Richard knew Peter was well aware of the consequences, Peter denied him an answer.

“Peter John,” Richard called Peter by both his names sternly, as Richard always did when he was about to begin a tirade.

Peter kept his eyes down. “I’m helping out at the college.”

“Helping do what?” Richard’s blood boiled.

Anticipating a punch or a slap, Peter flinched and whispered, “Modeling.”

Richard showed his teeth as he growled. “What? I didn’t hear you. Say it again.”

With a look of determination on Peter, as if he would take whatever came next, Peter sat back against the chair and crossed his arms. “I’m modeling for an art class.”

Richard knew that look. It was Peter’s daring, ‘Go on, hit me!’ glare.

Remembering his anger management classes, the recently quashed restraining order and the warning from the court in disgust, Richard battled with his rage. “Modeling? For art. As in, nude?”

Peter wouldn’t meet his eyes again.  “Yeah, for fifteen an hour.”

“For Christ’s sake!” Richard said. “Can’t you find a decent job? Who the hell got you involved in this crap anyway? Did Keith? I’ll kill him!”

“No, Dad, it wasn’t Keith. It’s for art. Don’t act like it’s porno. It’s no big deal.”

“You’re fifteen fucking years old. I don’t want you stripping naked for strangers. Do I make myself clear?” The veins started to pound in Richard’s temples. How many times do I have to repeat those stupid calming mantras in my head ‘peace within, peace within’. What a load of horse crap! It would be so much easier to smack sense into this brat!

“Fifteen? Jesus, Dad, I’ll be eighteen soon,” Peter corrected adamantly. “Don’t you even know how old I am? Fifteen?”

“Oh, that makes a big friggin’ difference. Forget it! You’re done modeling.”

Peter confronted him. “No. I want to work there. The money is decent and I don’t mind it.”

It was at this point Peter usually got a slap in the face and Richard could see he expected it.

“What the hell do you need the money that badly for?” Richard could hardly contain his anger. Though his fists stayed clenched at his side, his vocal power and volume were increasing.

“A refractometer and a polariscope.” Peter exhaled in frustration.

“You’ll get those in gem school. You don’t need to buy them. I forbid you to go back there. I’ll not tell you again.” Richard pointed his finger at Peter. You listen to me you fucking useless brat or I’ll strangle you.

Peter gave his father the cold shoulder and found another one of the rings for inspection.

“Don’t you turn your back on me, young man,” Richard warned, very near defying the court order that threatened him with jail if he made violent contact again.

When Peter finally looked up at him, Richard could see Peter was struggling not to burst into tears. “Look, Dad, it’s no big deal, all right?”

“I’ll be the judge of that. And who the hell is this woman that she gave you all of her jewelry like this?” Richard sorted through the collection. “Did you take off your clothing for her? I don’t like this. Not one bit. Are you turning into a fucking prostitute? Stripping, fucking and getting paid in gold?”

“What?” Peter glared at him in hatred. “Jesus, Dad!”

Though Richard was ready to explode, he tried to de-escalate his rage. In complete frustration, Richard knew because he didn’t live with his children any longer it was getting more difficult to control the boys. “Why is a woman this rich in your art class?”

Peter shrugged. “I think she just likes to paint. Dad, how much is a piece like this worth?” Peter handed him a necklace.

Richard closed his eyes for a minute. Okay. Calm the fuck down and talk to him. Calm the fuck down. Count to ten. Peace within. Peace within.

The little exercise helped. Richard’s anger softened enough to regain civility. He brought the necklace up to the loupe to inspect the diamond quality and trademark. “It’s an average VS quality, all platinum heads and wires.” Richard read the underside engraving. “Tiffany.” Shaking his head in amazement Richard said, “Retail, about five hundred thousand.”

“What?” Peter choked.

Richard set the necklace down. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Peter. And the rest of the suite is about the same.”

“Holy shit!”

“How well does this bitch know you that she trusted you with this?”

“She knows I won’t do anything to it. And she acted like she didn’t really care.”

“She sounds like a twit. Stay the fuck away from her.”

“No, she’s a really nice person.”

“Well, give these back to her as soon as possible. I don’t want her accusing you of anything. My luck, I’ll be bailing you out of jail.”

“She won’t. She’s all right.” Peter placed the items into the silk purse. “Oh, Dad, I have a question about one of Mom’s rings.” Peter stood and hurried to his nightstand. “Why does this look fake to me?”

Richard took the ring with the purple stone from Peter and inspected it through the loupe. “You can’t tell this way. You have to check to see if it’s twinned.”

“Twinned?” Peter asked.

“Yeah, some of these are laboratory grown.” Richard handed the ring back to Peter.

“Show me how to tell.”

“You need a polariscope and an immersion cell.”

Peter dropped his hands to his sides in defeat.

“Peter,” Richard said, “You’ll have plenty of time when you go to school for this. Buying the equipment yourself is a waste of money.”

“Never mind.” Peter put the ring down and shouldered his backpack.

“Where’re you going?”

“The college. I have to work today.”

“It’s Saturday.”

“I know. Sculpture class.” Peter walked passed him into the hall.

Richard followed. “That Gemscope cost me a thousand dollars, Peter. Isn’t it enough for now?”

“Sure, Dad.”

“Wait. Peter, let me drive you.”

Peter shrugged and headed down the stairs.

Richard rubbed his face in frustration. My son is stripping for a living. Jesus H. Christ. What the hell am I supposed to fucking do about it?

After twenty minutes of being trapped in the front seat of his father’s car while being lectured, and reaching no compromise, Peter was dying to get the hell away from him.

Peter walked to an older annex of the school. The sculpture room was kept away from the main campus. Peter wondered why. Maybe the clutter and debris from the different mediums made such a mess they booted the class out off of the main campus.

The building was dusty and cold. Peter found the room number and peered in. Two people were chatting together as one man stood at the blackboard writing up an outline. Peter walked in and waited behind the one man, assuming he was the instructor.

When the man glanced over his shoulder he said, “You must be Peter Barnes.” Wiping the chalk off his fingers, the man reached out to shake Peter’s hand. “I’m Jeff Atkins, call me Jeff.”

Peter received his hand, saying, “Hi,” then scanned around the room, rubbing his palms together for warmth.

“There’s a space-heater, don’t worry.” Jeff smiled. “You can change behind the screen when we’re ready.”

Peter looked around for it and acknowledged he understood. The room was icy cold. Once he’d finished his outline, Jeff opened a closet, carried a little portable heater to the platform and plugged it in. It hummed noisily as the coils warmed up.

Students began meandering in with their cumbersome pads to make practice sketches for the final pose. They claimed easels and sculpture stands as they tried not to stare at Peter.

With an anxious pit in his stomach, Peter wandered over to the window. He spotted a few people sleigh riding over the hilly campus lawn. Snowballs went flying in crisscross patterns against the brilliant blue sky.

Jeff asked, “You ready, Peter?”

Answering Jeff with a nod of his head, Peter noticed thirty people crammed into the studio, watching him like he was a juicy rabbit and they were birds of prey.

Shit. He forced that familiar nervousness to subside, hid behind the screen noticed a robe down had been tossed over the back of a chair. Peter started peeling layers of clothing off, freezing as each body part felt the icy air. Naked, he wrapped the robe around him tightly and made his way to the platform.

“Okay, Peter,” Jeff said, “contraposto, like Michelangelo’s David.” He stared at Peter. “Do you understand?” Jeff made a gesture, meaning, let’s go.

Peter took off his robe, set it down, then stood with cold toes in front of the noisy space heater. Jeff instructed Peter on the weight distribution of his hips and the tilt of his shoulders, adjusting Peter by touching him, moving Peter like a mannequin. Jeff stood next to Peter, then physically turned Peter by placing his hands on Peter’s hips, to face him sideways showing a three-quarter view to the majority of the class. “Perfect. Freeze in that pose.”

Jeff addressed the students, “This is what I expect from you guys.” He found a piece of chalk and drew on the blackboard. “Move the shoulders and hips in opposing diagonals to create the correct angles.” Jeff made a crashing sound as he ground the chalk and sliced white lines against the board.

Though Jeff’s enthusiasm was commendable, Peter couldn’t help but feel like a piece of prime cut meat.

Resigned to give it his best shot, Peter focused on a spot on the wall as his shins grew hot from the tiny space heater and the rest of him froze cold. One single thought ran through his mind. The cash.

It was quiet as the students scribbled anxiously on their pads to get the gesture of the pose down before they molded it in clay.

The door opened and closed behind Peter as a late-comer entered. It almost made him lose his focus and the pose.

Then something hit the large glass window. Peter flinched, turning his eyes nervously to the glass. A snowball slid down the warm pane. A moment later children’s faces appeared, peering over the shrubbery.

Augh! Just fucking shoot me! Peter burned with humiliation.

Jeff hurried to lower the blinds, the sounds of the kids’ shrill screams crackled through the glass. Peter lowered his eyes in shame, attempting to keep still, fighting with the overwhelming urge to place his hands in front of his groin. Having no choice but to take the incident bravely, Peter made his face a mask and clenched his teeth.

When the timer went off Jeff marked Peter’s foot position on the floor with masking tape.

The anger and embarrassment in Peter growing from the snowball incident, he grabbed the robe and sat curled in front of the heater ignoring the world.

A familiar voice woke Peter from his fuming.

Wendy spoke to Jeff quietly. Obviously she had been the late student and had set up her easel in the corner by the door. Her cheeks were rosy from the cold, her turtleneck sweater was soft and lime green, fuzzy like a Persian cat. Peter couldn’t believe she was there. For some reason he felt instant relief. Wendy was spending the day with him. Peter no longer felt isolated and alone.

When Wendy caught Peter’s eye she winked at him excitedly, then continued her conversation with Jeff.

After a five minute break, Peter was asked to pose again. More confident this time, Peter stood, set his robe down, and raised his head proudly. Wendy was with him. Peter smiled to himself.

They didn’t meet to exchange a word until Peter was dressed and the class put away their equipment. A few of the students surrounded Peter to tell him how much they appreciated him modeling for them.

Peter became impatient with the little game of casual flirty chatter. He watched Wendy as she closed her art kit. When Peter noticed Wendy was done he excused himself to go to her side.

Peter picked up Wendy’s box of supplies and gave her an affectionate smile. Wendy’s eyes darted quickly to their surroundings. The rest of the students in the room exchanged glances at the obvious attraction. Peter didn’t give a shit.  “You must be sick to death of me,” Peter said.

Wendy’s expression lit up in delight. “Peter. This is the first time I’ve seen you genuinely smile. Of course I’m not sick of you. I love looking at you.”

Totally lost for words, Peter blushed to the ears as he walked outside with her. A snowball hit Peter’s back. He spun around to see Keith re-arming. “Oh, shit.” Peter put Wendy’s art supply box down and grabbed a handful of snow.

Another ice ball whizzed by Peter’s head as he landed one directly on his brother’s chest.

“No fair, ya damn quarterback!” Keith ran over to Peter breathlessly, stopping short when he spotted Wendy. Keith gave her a charming smile.

Wendy returned it. “Hello.”

Peter bristled angrily. “What are you doing here?” he asked Keith.

“I go to school here, punk. Were you modeling again?” Keith packed another snowball.

“Yeah, why?”

“I heard all the squealing at the window, but by the time I got there the blinds were pulled. I was wondering if it was you.” Keith shivered comically.

Peter pushed him away. “Get lost!”

Wendy stared to laugh. “Peter, aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”

“He’s no friend. He’s my brother.”

“Ah! Now I get why you look so much alike.” She grinned at Keith.

“No, I’m better looking.” Keith walked up in front of her. “My name’s Keith...and you are?”

“Wendy, Wendy Saunders. Hello, Keith.” She took the leather glove-covered hand Keith offered and shook it.

In prickling jealousy, Peter grumbled under his breath. He could see his brother inspecting Wendy, checking out her long hair and light eyes. Peter knew Keith wanted her. Christ, Keith was drooling.

Keith batted his long dark eyelashes at Wendy sensuously. “What are you doing now? Are you free?”

“I was going to take Peter out to lunch. After freezing in that room, I thought he needed a hot meal.”

Having no idea he was being treated to a food, Peter lit up, standing tall and proud as Wendy reached out and brushed his wild bangs back from his face.

“Come on. Let’s go, Peter,” she said.

With wicked satisfaction, Peter grinned at his brother as he picked up Wendy’s art kit and followed her to the parking lot.

“Bye, Keith.” Wendy winked at him.

“Yeah, bye, Keith.” Peter laughed at his brother’s stunned expression as Keith stood there in awe.

Peter glanced back to see Keith’s reaction.

A snowball hit Keith in the side of his head but Keith was still gaping and them as Peter and Wendy climbed into a brilliant red Testarosa.

Take that, big brother! Peter loved Keith’s expression.

Like he had won a little battle, Peter grinned smugly as Wendy drove to the Lift the Latch Pub across the main road from the college.

Wendy shut off the car and smiled at Peter. “Are you hungry?”

“Starved. But will they let me in here? It’s a bar.”

“Don’t worry.” She touched his shoulder.

They stepped inside the dim interior and read the ‘Special’s’ board. Peter peered around curiously, never having been in a bar before.

Wendy led Peter to a table by a fireplace, lit and warming the cold room. She removed her fur coat and set down her purse. As he sat down next to her, Peter wondered if the waitress would ask him for proof of age. Peter also thought about the contents of his pockets, which consisted of bus fare and house keys. He didn’t own anything with his identification on it.

The waitress handed them menus and asked if they wanted a drink. Peter averted the waitress’s eyes, figuring he was the only minor in the place.

“Would you like a beer, Peter?”

Panicked at being under age, Peter muttered, “Whatever your having is fine.”

“Two Genesee ales, please.” Wendy smiled.

The waitress left and never blinked.

Wendy reached over to pat Peter’s hand. “You look at least twenty-one, babe, don’t worry about it.”

“I do?” Peter sat up straighter.

“Yes. What have I been telling you?” Wendy scooted her chair closer so their legs touched under the table. “Now, what do you want to eat? The cream of broccoli soup looks good.”

The beers were served and they placed their orders. Not for a moment did Peter think he appeared old enough to get a drink. He checked out the people in the room before he raised his glass to his lips, sure someone would discover him. No one seemed interested.

Her smile, kind and loving, Wendy said, “You’re so adorable I can hardly keep my hands off you.” She played with Peter’s hair sending chills up his spine. “Are you warmer now, Peter? It’s ridiculous that they expect you to stand naked in the freezing cold.”

A man at another table turned around and caught his eye.

Peter cleared his throat and hoisted his beer mug off the table. “Yes, I’m warmer now.”

Thinking about him naked in every medium she could conjure up, Wendy watched Peter drink the beer and wipe his lip. Would the alcohol loosen him up? Peter was so shy Wendy found it difficult to get him into a conversation.

“So, that’s your brother.” Even without spoken words, Wendy read Peter’s reaction to that question. A defensive pout had formed as Peter lowered his lashes and didn’t answer.

Wendy reached out to hold his hand as it lay on the table near her and finally caught Peter’s eye. “He’s not half the man you are, Peter. Not nearly as intense. And conceited too, right?”

“Yes.”

“I can read that type a mile away, green eyes. You’ve got him beat by a long shot.”

“I do?”

Wendy released Peter’s hand, catching his grin again as he drank thirstily from his beer mug.

In competition with brother Keith? No kidding. Gee, that was way too easy to read. “So, what’s new since last Thursday?”

After a moment of contemplation, Peter blurted, “Your jewelry.”

“Yes?” Wendy giggled and rested her hand on Peter’s knee.

That heat and sensuality of her touch caused Peter to lose the thread of what he was saying. Wendy couldn’t believe how endearing he was. As if Peter had been denying himself the pleasure of what craved, he let his gaze wander down her neck to her cleavage.

The beer hovered near Peter’s mouth. Wendy massaged Peter’s thigh and sexual tension between them was palpable.

She assumed he had an erect cock and deliberately stroked near it, brushing against that delicious mound with the back of her hand.

“Peter? What about my jewelry?” Wendy peered down at her own chest. Her hard nipples showed under her sweater.

When she gazed back at Peter, it appeared his mouth was starting to water.

“Peter? Hello?” She laughed at his hungry gaze.

“Huh?” He woke up and blinked.

“My jewelry?” Wendy held back a laughing fit.

“Yes.” Peter sat up straighter causing Wendy’s hand to slide between his thighs. “They’re all real, of course, and very valuable. The Tiffany diamond and emerald neckpiece alone is worth about five-hundred thousand.”

“Is that right? I suppose I should get it insured.” She massaged Peter’s inseam. “Oh well, play with them as long as you like. I have others when you’re bored with those.”

“You do?” He squirmed in his chair.

“Yes, in a safe deposit box. I’ll get them for you.”  When the waitress passed by Wendy removed her hand from Peter’s leg.

Peter was still gaping at Wendy, crossing and uncrossing his legs. Wendy knew Peter’s hard-on was driving him crazy, and she loved it. She ate a bite of her salad. “You okay?”

“I have to pee.”

After examining the interior of the room, Wendy gestured over her shoulder. “I think the bathroom is that way.”

Peter scooted out the chair, obviously trying not to appear too intoxicated and made his way to it.

Wendy smiled to herself as he left.

A second later, Keith stood behind Peter’s chair. He ate one of his brother’s French fries, grinning seductively at Wendy as he did. “Hello, my beautiful doll.”

And here’s Mr. Conceited. “Hello, Keith.”

“You let me know when you want a man and not a little boy. I’ll be ready for you.”

Very slowly, Wendy set her fork down and stared up at Keith. “You know just how gorgeous you are, don’t you?”

“Oh, baby, that is music to my ears.” He made an exaggerated expression of pleasure. “Let’s just say, I always get what I want.”

“I’ll bet you do.” She smiled wickedly.

“I want you,” Keith whispered and leaned across the table to her.

“Do you, now?” Wendy bent forward to match Keith, close to his lips.

“Yes. I do. Do you have a pen, gorgeous?”

She sat back and checked through her purse, handing Keith one.

Keith wrote a number on a napkin. “It’s my private line. No little brother will answer it.” He handed it to Wendy with the pen. Keith stood tall, took a quick look for Peter, and faced Wendy again.

Once Keith had Wendy’s attention Keith smoothed his hands down his abdomen to his pelvis. The movement was so erotic it sent chills over Wendy’s skin. Keith ran his palms alongside his hard cock, showing her its size through his tight jeans. “It will be a night you won’t forget.”

With a very determined effort, Wendy broke her trance on Keith’s crotch to focus on his face.

Keith winked and strutted back to his friends who were observing from the bar. Wendy watched Keith’s tight ass move and felt a sensation of heat wash over her. “Oh, my fucking God.”

Peter returned to the table, catching Wendy daydreaming. “The food all right?” he asked.

Coming back to earth, Wendy said, “Yes. Fine.”

During the meal Peter drank four beers and was very drunk. Wendy paid the tab and stood to put on her coat.

Peter rose upright and tried to do the same thing. He couldn’t manage to find the sleeve and kept moving in a circle in frustration. Wendy heard a low murmur of laughter erupt from the bar. Peter’s brother and his friends were obviously amused at the state Peter was in. Wendy helped Peter with his jacket and zipped up the front for him, then physically turned Peter towards the exit, patting his bottom affectionately.

As Wendy passed, Keith threw her a kiss and a wink. Tempted, Wendy smiled at Keith and led Peter out from behind by the shoulders. Peter never even noticed his brother was there.

After a silent drive home, Wendy sat idling in front of Peter’s house. “Are you going to be all right?”

“Sure.” Peter straightened up his back.

“I’ll pick you up around eight tomorrow morning. Okay?”

“Fine.” It appeared Peter couldn’t focus his eyes.

Wendy waited. Peter sat there. She reached over to open the door for him. Wendy’s chest crushed against Peter’s and her hand braced on his thigh once more.

Peter pressed back into the leather bucket seat, groaning.

Wendy stared at him. Peter’s eyes were closed so she moved her attention lower. It was obvious he had another hard-on. “Peter?”

Peter peeked at her meekly.

“You sure you’re okay?” Wendy asked again.

He exhaled tiredly. “Yes.”

“See you tomorrow?” She smiled and caressed his hair.

“Yes.” He climbed out of her car.

As she pulled away, Wendy waved. “Damn. Two delicious brothers. How lucky can a girl get?”

Keith parked his Mustang on the driveway next to his mother’s Volvo station wagon. Saying hello to his mother and sister as he passed, Keith climbed the stairs in search of his brother.

With his hands deep in his leather jacket pockets, Keith spied into Peter’s bedroom. When he realized Peter was fast asleep, Keith stepped into Peter’s bedroom and stood over him, inspecting Peter’s face and hair, then Peter’s body.

Keith unraveled the white scarf from around his neck, shaking out his long mane of hair as if he were about to seduce a thirty year old conquest.

A soft sound escaped Peter’s lips. Peter rolled sleepily, stretching out his long muscular legs across the length of the mattress.

Keith never moved his gaze from Peter as several fiendish thoughts passed through his mind. Boldly, Keith placed the end of his scarf on Peter’s chest. As Keith moved out of the room, he allowed the white silk to drag over his brother’s abdomen, groin, between Peter’s thighs, right down to his feet.

Keith closed Peter’s bedroom door behind him and went to his room to take a nap of his own.

Chapter Eleven

With the light of a fresh winter’s day beaming in through his curtain sheer, Peter woke after a full night’s rest. He showered and dressed, then gathered all the jewelry back into its sack, jogging down the stairs for breakfast.

When Peter entered the kitchen his mom was in a white terry cloth robe and slippers, sipping a cup of coffee and reading the Sunday edition of the Bergen County Record newspaper. “What are your plans for today, Peter?”

Silence was her response. He reached into the refrigerator for orange juice.

“Peter?” She set her favorite mug, with the bright yellow Smiley Face that said ‘Don’t worry, be happy,’ down. “Why do I always have to ask you twice?”

“I’m modeling,” he mumbled.

“Modeling? On a Sunday? What class is there on a Sunday?”

“It’s not for class. It’s for one of the students.” Peter leaned against the white Formica counter as he drank the juice, knowing what her reaction would be.

“What do you mean, ‘one of the students’? You mean alone? Privately?”

He nodded.

“I don’t like that one bit.” Louise stood to confront him. “Who is this person? I don’t want you to go.”

Peter made a sound in his throat mocking her, knowing damn well he would do as he pleased. He set his glass in the sink and tried to get away from her.

“It irritates me beyond measure that neither of you boys listens to a thing I say any longer.” Louise held his arm to prevent his escape. “Who is it, Peter? Is it a man or a woman? I want their name and number before you go.”

Peter knew how Keith would handle this situation. Peter stood tall and towered over his mother’s petite frame. “Why do you have to treat me like I’m a little boy? I’m almost eighteen years old. I’m not a toddler. Look at me, for Christ’s sake.” He opened his arms to her. “I’m big enough to defend myself.”

“Yes, you’re tall and athletic but that isn’t my point. You’re still considered a minor and under my care. I don’t think it’s too much to ask for this person’s name and number.”

In complete disgust, Peter shook his head and brushed by her, out to the living room. While Peter got ready he sensed his mother behind him. He rolled his eyes and glanced back at her.

Her arms were crossed her over her chest as she watched him put on his jacket.

Louise moved to the picture window and they waited in silence. A red sports car pulled up in front of the house.

Peter checked his mother’s reaction.

Louise moved closer to the window glass, obviously seeing it was a woman driver. “What time will you be home?”

“I don’t know. See ya.” Peter pushed through the front door, not looking back.

Once he climbed into her car, Wendy said, “You look fantastic, Peter. Did you sleep well?” Wendy grabbed his thigh and shook it playfully.

“Yes, hours and hours. I’m ready for you. I brought back your stuff.” Peter showed her the pouch from inside his jacket pocket.

“Good.” She winked.

Wendy parked the Ferrari in her garage and they were greeted by the dogs wagging and sniffing at them in excitement. Peter followed Wendy through the house. They passed Steve kneading dough on a large butcher’s block table. It appeared he was getting a work-out from the elasticity of the blob.  Steve took a break from his labor, to smile and say, “Hello, Peter.”

It made Peter feel odd for some reason, but he nodded his head to Steve politely, “Hi,” and climbed the stairs behind Wendy. “What’s he doing?”

“Making bread.” Wendy turned on all the lights.

“Really?”

“Yes, really. He’s a wonderful chef.” Wendy took off her coat and tossed it on a chair. The little Yorkshire Terrier curled up on it immediately.

There was a fresh white canvas stretched on an easel, along with a table and a pallet. The canvas was six feet tall and four feet wide. Wendy opened a box filled with paint tubes and removed several sticks of charcoal from it.

After Peter placed the jewelry bag on a highboy dresser, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and stood in the middle of the room.

Wendy was distracted at the moment, preparing her pallet. “Right.” She wiped her hands on a rag and looked up at him. “Anytime you’re ready, Peter.”

“Uh. Everything?”

“Yes. Is that okay?”

He shrugged and took off his jacket.

“Just set your clothing on that bench behind you.” Wendy pointed with the back of a brush.

Spinning back, Peter spotted a painted white colonial style bench and nodded, working on removing his clothing, never taking his eyes from her.

Wendy poured turpentine and linseed oil in jars, took a look up at the sky light and set up a spotlight she had at the ready and plugged it in.

Appearing all business at the moment, Wendy turned on the light and aimed it Peter’s way, then she suddenly stopped short.

Something was different. This wasn’t the far away stage of the school room. Not the crowded environment of the overflowing night class. This was her domain, and Peter was naked and vulnerable in it.

He combed his fingers back through his hair and stood awkwardly, not knowing what to do next.

Wendy’s face flushed crimson. “God, you’re so fantastic.”

At the ogling he was getting, Peter felt like Wendy was running her index finger along his outline. He shivered.

“Peter, your body is perfection and grace. You’re so tall and sculpted and you have the face of an angel. That hair, those eyes, that skin...”

Peter shifted his weight from leg to leg and cleared his throat. “What do you want me to do?”

“Oh, stand. Please, stand. Is it okay for you? Will you get too tired?”

“No. But, how should I stand?”

Wendy raced over to him. “Like the sculpture pose. It’s classically simple. I love that pose.” Boldly, Wendy touched Peter’s left hand and raised it to rest upon his left shoulder.

When her lips came close to his own, Peter held his breath. Her blonde hair was clipped away from her face. Her blue cotton shirt was soft and faded, the sleeves were rolled up to her elbows. Her denim 501 jeans were skin tight over her curves and her cowboy boots were black leather with silver tips.

As if she were readying him for a modeling shoot, Wendy reached up to fuss with Peter’s hair, trying to hide one if his eyes with his bangs.

At the sensation of her touch, Peter’s skin cover with chills and his body reacted against his will.

When Wendy was through fussing, she stepped back to look at him. “Peter, you are so gorgeous, I cannot get over you.”

It was building in him, the excitement, the erection, and the exposure of his feelings. Peter began panting uncontrollably, opening his lips for a deeper inhale. He felt like he needed more air.

“Yes. That expression exactly. Like a kiss.” Wendy reached for his mouth and touched it lightly. “When I start on your face I want you to part your lips just like that for me. Will you?”

Not intending to, Peter tightened his mouth as he nodded. “I will.”

“Perfect, perfect!” The grin broad on her face, Wendy hurried to her easel, lifting a piece of charcoal and went to work on the canvas.

Peter watched her eyes as she panned down his physique. He reacted in panic when she realized something. Something embarrassing.

Oh, shit. Peter swallowed audibly and felt his cock throbbing as it stood stiffly from his body. I knew this would happen. Fuck! Peter took a quick peek. Below his flat, hard belly and dark pubic hair was his fully erect cock. “Oh, Christ.” He moaned when he felt her gaze lingering on it, knowing damn well his cheeks were on fire from the embarrassment. “Wendy...” He was about to apologize when she set her charcoal down and stepped closer to him.

“Holy shit!” Peter stared in disbelief as Wendy knelt on the floor in front of him.

She smeared a charcoal line down his hips, forgetting her soot-covered fingers, and opened her mouth to him.

Peter’s knees shook as he reached down, caressing her hair as Wendy sucked his dick.

Not since that one time he was in and out of Rose’s body for a split second had Peter’s cock been inside something hot and wet. This was his first blowjob and done by a thirty-something year old bombshell, it was making him deliriously. “Fuck!”  He felt his cock go rock hard and braced himself for the climax. Grunting, grabbing Wendy’s shoulders so he wouldn’t topple backwards, Peter gave it to her, spurting out his cum in thick pulsating heartbeat like spasms. Heaven. I am in heaven.

Wendy tightened her grip, massaging Peter’s ass in her charcoal-covered hands, nuzzling her face against his wet, erect dick gently, using her lips to caress his balls and thighs.

Ohmygod! Ohmyfuckinggod! Peter held Wendy, steadying himself. Never had he climaxed like that. Peter managed to open his eyes to peer down at her while gasping for breath.

Wendy smoothed her hands down the backs of his legs and sat on her heels, staring at his crotch.

Peter allowed his arms to relax at his sides and recuperated. What does this meant? Was it just this one act? Or will there be more, like a relationship?

Wendy rose up and walked back behind her easel. She said, “There’s a bathroom right through that door if you want to wash up.”

Peter look down at himself, at the charcoal smudges covering his skin. He turned his head to the direction she indicated, finding the bathroom, moving towards it with very heavy limbs. What just happened? What the hell just happened? Is she my girlfriend now?

Peter used a washcloth to scrub at the charcoal handprints. He cleaned himself then checked his backside and noticed more black smudges. Once he managed to fix himself up, Peter splashed his face and stared at his reflection in the mirror, shaking the hair back from his eyes. Peter did not like what he was seeing. Pain. Agonizing pain. He took a deep breath and bravely returned.

As if nothing had passed between them the least bit unusual, Wendy was waiting, ready to keep working.

Peter had no inner resources to deal with it, any of it. What else was he supposed to do but find his spot and fall into the pose? “Is this good?”

By the look on her face, Peter knew Wendy was feeling apprehensive.

“Yes. Perfect.”

They didn’t speak another word.

Peter bit his lip in frustration, wanting to communicate to her what he felt. His emotions kept welling up inside him and he kept swallowing them back. Not even attempting to act happy about it, Peter couldn’t wipe the pout off his face. And he was angry at himself for feeling so cheated.

They drove back to his house in silence. It had turned into a nightmare.

“Well, Peter, I’ll see you in class Tuesday night.”

Agony. Betrayal. Again those waves of pain washed over Peter as he sat still, staring at his feet.

“Oh. I almost forgot.” Wendy opened her purse and handed Peter a hundred and twenty dollars. “Here, going rate, right?”

A sickening feeling passed over him. “I can’t take your money, Wendy.”

“Why not? You earned it.” Wendy tucked the cash into Peter’s leather jacket pocket.

The nausea in the pit of his stomach grew. He hung his head, hiding under his long hair. “It feels really funny. I don’t feel right about it.”

Wendy lovingly pushed the hair back from his face. “Stop. Enough. We made an agreement.”

The moment she touched him, Peter reached for her, kissing her lips and moaning softly at the fire it lit in his cock.

As if Wendy was surprised at the intensity and passion of his kiss, she leaned back and tried to calm him down. “I’ll see you Tuesday.”

Even though Peter was sinking from the rejection and isolation, he connected to Wendy’s blue eyes. “Tuesday.” Peter climbed out of the car and watched it drive away.

Numb from weariness and fear, Peter removed the money and stuck it into his wallet. He entered his house and searched for his mother and sister. Neither were there so he headed up the stairs to his room, blackness filling his heart. Peter heard music coming from Keith’s bedroom.

Using both hands on either wall to guide him down the hall like a blind man, Peter stuck his ear to Keith’s door. Keith was singing to music coming from his stereo; Two Out Of Three Ain't Bad, the newest release by Meat Loaf.

Peter stood listening for a moment, enjoying Keith’s fine high voice, then decided not to bother him. What would Keith care about his problems? Keith had too many of his own.

Peter scuffed his worn out beige Frye boots on the soft shag rug and closed the door of his bedroom behind him.

Chapter Twelve

On a snowy Monday morning Wendy sorted through her safe deposit box for more jewels to show Peter. A small rectangle parcel of paper was wrapped around a very large loose round brilliant cut diamond. With the vagueness of a past headache, Wendy remembered Peter had said something about the gem lab’s diamond certification process and decided to take it into the city for an evaluation.

After a quick peek at the stone, Wendy folded the tissue paper back up and stuck it into her purse. A day of shopping at Macy’s in New York on her mind, she drove into Manhattan.

Wendy knew her way around the city from being married to a man whose line of work in the financial market kept him a part of the Big Apple’s core for decades. She parked in a pay lot once she was near Broadway, then hailed a taxi cab to the diamond district.

With very little knowledge about the diamond vendors, Wendy asked the taxi driver, “Do you have a recommendation for me of someone to see in the diamond district?”

“Lady, I have no clue, but I know who has the most extravagant window displays.” The taxi driver parked at the curb, pointing.

“That’ll work.” Wendy imagined it was as good a place to start as any. Wendy thanked him and gave him a nice tip.

The massive skyscrapers on both sides of the street dwarfed even the tallest trees. Wendy felt sympathy for the little skinny, leafless maples. The winter sun barely touched them and they looked pale and anemic in the dreary light.

After investigating the interior of a cluster of jewelry shops, Wendy waited to be buzzed into a room with several dealers all sporting glass cases with elegant jewels. The salesmen waved, shouting her over anxiously as she laughed and searched for the calmest one of the bunch.

Wendy spotted a small unassuming, balding man with glasses and a magnification loupe propped on his forehead. “Hello.” She sat on a stool before his display cases and smiled sweetly. “Can you help me?”

It took him a moment to find her through his fingerprint-smudged spectacles, but when he did he gave her his undivided attention. “What can I do for you, young lady?”

Wendy removed the diamond from her purse and handed it to him. “Can you send this out to be certified for me?”

“Yes, of course, darling.” He nodded then took the paper and opened it up carefully over a flat blue velvet cushion. He slid the white gem out of the crisp paper, allowing it to settle down on the pad, then lifted it up in a pair of tweezers to inspect.

Wendy was already bored. She scanned around the bustling room at all the activity. Her keen eye caught sight of the best looking man in the room. He was wonderfully fit and tall, with a full head of brown hair and an infectious smile. She admired him as he chatted with a young Hasidic.

“Well, young lady, you have a very fine stone here.”

Wendy tried not to be rude and turned her attention back to the little bald man as he placed the stone on an electronic scale. While he fussed silently with it, Wendy spied back over her shoulder to find that attractive man again. He caught her eye. Hello, gorgeous!

“It seems to be VVS quality.”

The little man’s voice was just a hum of nonsense as Wendy lost interest in the reason for her trip with the distracting sight of an extremely handsome gentleman approaching her.

The handsome man said, “Well, Seymour, what have we got here? I hope you’re treating this lovely lady well.”

“Ah, yes, yes, I hope so.”

Wendy enjoyed the handsome man’s deep voice, then his tantalizing scent. It took a mere second for them to connect eyes again. Green eyes. Christ, how I love green eyes and dark brown hair. Wendy leaned nearer, attempting to catch a better whiff of his cologne.

The attraction appeared mutual as the handsome man held out his hand. “Do I get an introduction to this beautiful woman, Seymour?”

Wendy shook the gorgeous man’s hand. “Wendy Saunders,” she said.

“Wendy. Very nice to meet you.”

“And you are…” she purred.

“Richard Barnes.” He squeezed her hand tightly.

“Take a look at this, Richard.” Seymour handed Richard the stone in a locking tweezers.

Richard took a loupe out of his suit jacket pocket and inspected the diamond with confidence. “VVS? Or internally flawless?” He tilted it around. “F in color?”

“I’d say, D,” Seymour said.

“D? Possibly. Two carats?”

“You have the eye of a cat. Two point oh-two.” Seymour pushed his glasses higher on his nose.

“Send it out to be certified.” Richard handed it back to Seymour.

None of this interested Wendy. They could throw the stone into the trash for all she cared. All Wendy was thinking about as she gazed at the wonderful line of Richard’s jaw, the contours of his cheeks, and his green eyes, was Richard nude and on canvas. She had lost the thread of conversation.

“Certified is when the gem diamond lab gives you an accurate grade so it can be appraised correctly. Do you know what diamond grading is?” Richard asked.

Wendy popped back into focus. “Yes, a friend explained it to me recently. If you think it should be certified, fine.”

“Send it out, Seymour.”

“Any idea what it’s worth?” she asked.

“If its Internally Flawless or VVS with D in color...about twenty-five thousand. It’s cut exceptionally well,” Richard said.

The attraction between them became more evident when Richard leaned closer to Wendy, almost brushing up against her.

Wendy made a check of his hand, his left ring finger was naked.

“Okay, Ms. Saunders, I’ll send this out today. Just fill out this form for me.” Seymour slid a pen and information form to her over the counter.

“I’m in no rush.”

As Wendy filled it out Richard read over her shoulder. “Ridgewood? You live near my old neighborhood.”

“Really? What a small world.” She smiled at him.

“You make a very handsome couple,” Seymour said teasingly as he wrapped the diamond and handed Wendy a receipt.

Wendy chuckled softly but didn’t reply. She was thinking the same thing.

Richard leaned on the counter next to her. “Can I take you to lunch? Or have you made other plans?”

Wendy stood off the stool and felt tiny by comparison to Richard’s imposing height. “No. I’m free.”

He smiled and held out his elbow for her. “See ya later, Seymour.”

“Good day, Mr. Barnes.” Seymour winked.

With this beautiful hunk proudly displayed on her elbow, Wendy felt her excitement stir. My lucky day…lucky, lucky.

Richard mentioned a few of his favorite places as they strolled.

Combating in the icy wind that blew down the avenue, Wendy didn’t care. She just wanted to stare at him.

Richard held the door open for her and they entered a Japanese restaurant and shook off the cold chill. Once they were seated Wendy read the menu.

“I assume you like sushi?” Richard said. “You didn’t object when I mentioned it.”

“Yes. I like it all. You order something for me.”

When the waitress approach and Richard spoke to the Asian woman in Japanese, Wendy almost fell over in shock and couldn’t hide her astonishment.

After the waitress bowed and left Wendy said, “You’re amazing! Do you speak any other languages?”

“Oui mademoiselle, si senora, si signora and da fraulein.”

“Well, Mr. Barnes, you’re a very charming man.”

“Thank you, my sweet. I was thinking similar thoughts about you. But call me Richard, please.”

Wendy folded her hands on top the table, giving him a contented smile. “Okay. Richard.”

“You have very fine taste in jewelry. May I?”

Flattered, Wendy reached her hand over to him.

Richard held her fingers delicately. “They’re exquisite.”

“I was about to say the same thing about you,” she purred, “You have beautiful eyes.”

Richard took a firmer hold on her hand. “Is that a fact, Wendy?”

“Oh, yes.” She loved the wicked gleam in his eye. Am I a sucker for bad boys or what? Always have been. “What is it you do, Richard?”

“Do?” Richard released her hand as the waitress served green tea and warm saki. “Where do I start?” He winked.

“I mean for a living.” Wendy smiled knowingly at him.

“Oh, well, then you’ll miss out on all the fun stories.”

“We’ll save those for later.” Wendy thanked the waitress.

“What do I do? Well, during the day I buy diamonds and colored stones for a major gem importer. I travel and sometimes fill special requests.” Richard sipped the saki.

“Sounds exciting. Is that why you know so many languages?”

“Most people speak English, but it puts the client at ease to speak their own language. They tend to trust you more.” That wicked grin emerged once again.

Wendy thought something about Richard’s smile seemed familiar. I’ve never met him, forget it. Just enjoy this gloriously handsome man.

Richard’s hair was thick and brushed over his starched shirt collar, a touch of gray at the temples. Without a doubt Wendy could tell he was strong and physically fit, like he enjoyed a regular work-out routine. In absolute bliss she imagined him jogging Central Park or playing racquetball, sweat soaking his scant attire. If she had to guess she imagined Richard was in his early to mid-forties.

As if they were magical and mysterious, his eyes were dazzling her into some sort of trance. There simply was no other way to describe him, he was stunning.

“Are you married, Richard?” May as well get this detail aside, no ring or not.

Richard put his saki cup down. “Divorced.”

“Any children?”

“Yes, two sons and a daughter. They live with my ex-wife. You?”

“No children and I’m a widow.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No need to be.” Wendy sat back as the waitress set their fist course down.

“Are you seeing any one at the moment?” Richard picked up a pair of chopsticks.

“No. I’m in-between relationships.”

“Good. Very good.” He laughed.

Wendy easily read Richard’s demonic smile and mirrored it. “Why, Richard? Does this mean you have intentions of seeing me again?” She planted her tongue firmly in her cheek.

“If you would like, yes.”

She leaned across the table. “I would like, very much.”

“Good.” He raised his cup in a toast.

The final school bell had rung. Peter walked down the hall and noticed Erin waving frantically. Peter waited for her to catch up and they headed outside into the bright cold sunlight together.

“How are you, Peter?”

“All right.” He shrugged.

“Are you planning on going to Silver Lake with the class trip this year?”

“Where?”

“Silver Lake. Peter, everyone is talking about it.”

Peter stared at Erin like she wasn’t speaking English.

“I want you to be there. It’s a weekend in the woods. Will you come?”

The honk of a car horn distracted Peter.

A fiery red Ferrari pulled up to the curb near them. “Holy shit.” Peter gasped.

Erin stopped her begging to gape.

The passenger door opened and Peter spotted Wendy leaning over the seat. “Come on, babe!”

“Bye.” Peter raced to her invitation and climbed in. As Peter buckled his seatbelt he found Erin, along with the rest of the students that were milling around outside the school, stop to watch the spectacle. Erin’s eyes were wide as bulls-eyes.

“What are you doing here?” Peter felt alive. My God! Wendy picked me up from school?

“It’s Tuesday.”

“So?”

“Dinner and class. You up for it?”

“I’m up for it.” A one syllable laugh came out of his throat as Peter tried to absorb everything.

Wendy grabbed Peter’s blue jean-covered thigh. “Steve is making us a gourmet dinner.”

His dick going rigid, Peter stared down at Wendy’s hand, deciding to cover it with his own. “Great.”

The sound of barking greeting them at the kitchen door.

Peter followed Wendy inside, and petted each dog on the head. “Hey, Steve.” Peter noticed Steve was up to his elbows in bubbling pans.

“Hey, Pete.”

The aroma stirred Peter’s hunger. “Can I use the phone?”

“Sure. There’s one right here, or in the hall.” Wendy pointed as she leaned over Steve’s shoulder. The handsome man offered her a taste of his cooking, making her moan.

Choosing the phone in the hall, Peter dialed and kept wishing he had Keith’s nerve. He hated confrontation. “Hi, Mom. I’ll be skipping coming home for dinner and going straight to modeling tonight.”

“Why? Where will you eat dinner?”

“I’ll eat out. I have to go.”

“Peter, wait!”

Before his mother could get out another word, Peter hung up on her and returned to the kitchen.

Steve smiled impishly at him. “Want to taste it, Pete?”

Shy and not meeting his eye, Peter shrugged and came closer to check out what Steve was preparing.

As he had done with Wendy, Steve held up a forkful of food and Peter ate off of it.

“Mm! That’s fantastic.”

“I’ll let you know when it’s ready,” Steve told Wendy.

“Okay, just yell for us.” Wendy grabbed Peter’s hand and started dragging him up to her studio. “Come see how it’s coming along.”

Peter laughed in delight as they ran up the stairs two by two, the dogs at their ankles. Just before Wendy was about to yank Peter behind the canvas for a look, he dug in his heels and stopped her, spinning her around and taking her into his arms. Peter released his passion that had been pent up for too long, devouring Wendy with kisses.

“Wait. Come here and look first.” Wendy broke the embraced, kicked all the dogs out into the hall and closed the door.

Peter stood still, taking his time to inspect the painting. With wonderful blocks of color, Wendy had started on the background.  It shocked him at how realistic it appeared, like a Polaroid photo that develops with time. There was no mistaking who it was.

Wendy tapped her foot, rocking to and fro impatiently. “Well? Well, well, well?” She jumped anxiously.

What should I say? How do I feel about being exposed so blatantly on canvas?

Most of the students in the community college were just average painters. No one could really tell the paintings were of him. Well, maybe Rose’s grandma did decent job, since Rose recognized him.

But this? This was Peter John Barnes as much as if Wendy had photographed him and blew it up to life size.

Like a little girl waiting for her father to respond, Wendy shook him for an answer. “Peter!”

“Great.” He felt like he was lying.

“You mean that?”

“Yes.” Peter cleared his throat nervously.

She crossed her arms proudly. “It’s got a long way to go but, I think it’s my best yet. Of course the subject matter has a little to do with it.” Wendy narrowed her eyes at him wickedly.

With the compliment flying over his head, he replied, “Definitely.”

Wendy laughed, shoving him playfully as if she were a peer. “You silly.”

Peter tried to understand what he had missed.

“You want something to drink?” Wendy walked over to the door as if she was intent on yelling down to Steve.

“I can’t. I’m posing later, remember?”

“Oh, right. I keep thinking you’re mine for the night.”  She returned, standing next to him. “Sorry. It’s just so easy to lose myself on you. I mean…look.” She gestured to Peter’s jeans. “Just look at the blue denim over your zipper. It’s worn and light colored, yet the creases are darker.” She ran her fingertip over the bulge in his pants. “The same thing is true with the denim on your thighs. See how they swell and the front is white, but inseams are still blue?”

“Wendy,” Peter moaned. “You’re driving me insane.” Peter grabbed her again and kissed her.

Wendy pushed him back gently to stop. “Peter...”

“I want you.” He kissed her neck and shoulder.

“We can’t, Peter.”

“Why not?” Peter nibbled her earlobe and he felt Wendy shiver. His cock was throbbing like a rapid pulse in his pants.

“Because you’re seventeen and I’m thirty-five.”

“Then why do you tease me? It was you that sucked my—”

Like a reflex of pain, Wendy held her hand to Peter’s lips. “I was wrong to do that to you.”

“No. It wasn’t wrong. I don’t care how old you are.”

Wendy stepped back, shaking her head.

“I’m falling in love with you. Can’t you see that?”

As if the words stunned her, Wendy appeared pale.

“Yes. I am. I think of you constantly. I dream of you at night. I live and breathe for the next moment I can lay eyes on you. To be with you. Touch you.” Peter pressed his hips into hers, his yearning tearing at him. “Tell me you love me! Christ! Lie to me, but say it!” Peter did everything he could to not allow his voice to crack with emotion.

Wendy didn’t answer, but her expression was killing him.

“Do you?” Peter waited desperately. When no reply came, Peter turned away and covered his face. “Oh, God...I’m crazy...I’m crazy.” Betrayal, agony, pain. That familiar combination wrung him as if he were a wet towel. It was pure torture.

Wendy embraced him from behind. “Of course I love you, Peter, very much.” She tried to coax him to face her again.

Peter resisted, hiding his shame. It wasn’t supposed to come to this. No. Not this. Exhaustion crept up on him.

I’m Keith! I’m fucking Keith! Not Peter the wimp!

Peter spun around suddenly, startling her, and picked her up into his arms. Before Wendy could react, Peter laid her on the couch and pinned her down, devouring her, kissing her neck, holding her breasts in his hands.

Peter began sobbing as he shoved Wendy’s skirt up and unfastened his jeans.

“No. No, Peter.” Wendy panicked and held him off by his shoulders.

“Please…please…” Peter wept, the tears running down his cheeks.

“Babe. No. Peter, listen to me. There’s no pretending I don’t desire you. Your beauty is so fresh and unspoiled, it’s like you’re an angel. But—”

Peter didn’t want to hear this. All he wanted was to stick his dick inside her. His groans intensified as he sought friction, pumping his legs against hers. “Please!” He exposed his cock.

“Peter. Babe. Calm down. This is a mistake. I already made a mistake because of what I did to you the last time you were here. Peter, look at me.”

Peter locked his elbows as he leaned over her body.

Wendy looked downwards.

Peter took a peek, seeing his cock blushing red and seeping pre-cum. “Please…”

“Peter.” Wendy choked on her words.

He broke down and started to cry. As he sat back, Peter covered his face and wailed in heart-wrenching agony.

Wendy folded him against her, cooing, “Shh, it’s okay...” Turning into a mother or his nursemaid, Wendy rocked him as he sobbed. “Don’t cry, Peter...please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

It took Peter time to be able to speak. When he did he said, “I can never have you. I will always be too young. I’m only in high-school. There’s no way for us. It’s so fucking unfair!”

Peter read the panic in her eyes. Again Wendy didn’t answer him. He cried, “I’m worthless. I can never marry you. Have children with you. So, what am I? I’m worth nothing.”

“You are not worthless.”

“What am I then?” he wept.

“You’re wonderful, special. I will always treasure our friendship.”

“Friendship?” Peter snarled and stumbled off the couch away from her.

“Peter. Calm down and listen to me.”

He tucked his soft cock into his pants and caught her eyes. He was so angry he was about to scream.

“I don’t want to remarry or have children. You’ll meet someone—”

As if her words were as toxic as poisonous gas, Peter glared at her.

Wendy sat upright and fixed her clothing. “Peter...”

“That’s it then? I’m supposed to go meet someone else?”

“What I mean is… I mean when you—”

Peter held up his hand to silence her words, closing his eyes.

“Let me drive you home.”

The pain in Peter was so intense he couldn’t breathe like his ribs were freshly broken and he was lying on the ground with the wind knocked out of him. And he was the cause. With no going back, no retracing of their steps, Peter knew in his heart, his time with Wendy had come to an end.

There was no way in hell she would ever see him again. Not after this. I am such an idiot. Peter held back more tears.

Chapter Thirteen

Friday night Richard made another visit to the house which he financed but no longer occupied.

He found Peter in his room, lying on his bed with headphones on connected to the radio on his nightstand.

Richard had expected Peter to be pouring over his Gemscope with a new suite of jewels. When he noticed Peter’s blank stare Richard sat next to him on the mattress and signaled for Peter to take the headphones off.

Peter did and stared at him.

Richard noticed Peter’s green eyes were rimmed with redness. “What’s wrong, Pete?” Richard rubbed Peter’s knee affectionately. “I see your equipment came. I thought you’d be sitting up all night with them. Give me your mother’s ring and I’ll show you twinning.” He reached out his hand.

“Not tonight, Dad.”

“What’s wrong?”

Peter bit his lip and his eyes filled with water.

Those tears alarmed Richard. Even after Peter had been disciplined or beaten, Peter never cried. The boy barely laughed, rarely raised his voice in anger or joy and almost never smiled. “Are you in trouble? You had better tell me now before I find out from your mother.”

“I’m not in trouble. It’s just stupid.” Peter wiped at the tears as they rolled down his cheeks.

“It usually is at your age.” Richard could hear the faint sound of Eric Clapton’s Wonderful Tonight coming through the headphones as they rested next to Peter on the bed.

“Typical.” Peter glared at him.

“All right, I’m sorry. Can you tell me or what?”

Peter crossed his arms and turned away. “It’s about some girl.”

“Girl? You mean you’re not gay?” Richard teased. When he received an even angrier reaction he nudged Peter’s arm playfully. “I’m only joking. Geez, Peter. Every kid gets a broken heart. You’ll get over it.”

“But I love her, Dad.”

“You love her. That’s really cute. Look, there are plenty of fish in the sea.”

“I don’t want anyone else.” Peter wiped at the tears on his face roughly.

Richard sighed and moved closer to him. “Look, if you really love this girl then just go for it. You’d be amazed at what love can do.”

“You mean like you and Mom?” Peter replied sarcastically.

“Bad example.” Richard smiled. “Keep the faith, kid, you’ve got your father’s determination as well as his great looks.” Richard stood and went to the mirror at Peter’s dresser, fixing his tie and preening. “Gotta’ go. Hot date tonight.” He winked at Peter.

“See ya.”

“See ya.” Richard closed the door to Peter’s room.

Wendy stood in front of Steve. “Well? Do I look all right?”

Steve sat on a kitchen chair with the little dog on his lap. “Yes, you look fine. What’s the occasion?”

“First date with a real charmer. His name is Richard. I feel fat.”

“Yeah, all ninety-eight pounds of you.”

“One hundred and five,” she corrected.

“Right and fifty percent of it is in your chest.” He laughed.

Wendy swatted him. “Wise ass. No respect from the help.” As she poured a glass of cognac her hands shook.

“Christ, have a cigarette. Chill out.”

“No, I’m trying to quit.”

“What? You?”

“Yes, me. I’ve got to keep up with the youth. Can’t be old and coughing.”

“Peter, huh?” Steve grinned.

“Yeah, well, for me, really.” She finished her drink as the doorbell rang. The dogs went wild. “Oh, shit, he’s here.”

“I’ll get it.” Steve stood as the Yorkshire Terrier leapt off his lap.

“I’ll be there in a minute. Tell him who you are. No games,” Wendy said as she raced up the stairs. She reapplied her lipstick in a flash and checked her hair in the mirror. In two seconds she was through and stood at the top of the staircase to listen to the two men.

“Wendy Saunders?”

“No, Steve Baker. I’m her maid. She’s upstairs. She’ll be down in a minute.”

“Her maid?”

Steve said, “Okay,” and Wendy peeked down the staircase to see her dogs race over for a sniff of Richard.

Thinking she had waited long enough for a grand entrance, Wendy descended the stairs. She heard Richard sigh in pleasure at her appearance. “Hello.” Wendy smiled modestly.

A bouquet of flowers slapped Steve in the chest. Steve grunted at the unexpected blow.

Richard appeared captivated by Wendy, helping her with her coat.

“For me?” Steve batted his eyelashes flirtatiously and inhaled the flowers. “You shouldn’t have.”

Wendy playfully punched Steve’s arm. “See you later.” She grinned at him.

As she passed him, Steve whispered, “Wendy, Wendy…you lucky girl, you.” Steve inhaled the bouquet.

She gave Steve a secret wink and headed out to the brand new 1978 black Mercedes Benz 280 E parked in front of her house.

With an air of elegance and chivalry, Richard opened the door for her before walking around the car to his side. He started the engine and said, “Maid?”

“Yes, Richard.”

“Oh really?” He narrowed his eyes.

“He’s a homosexual, Richard. You need only watch your own ass, not mine.”

Richard’s smirk vanished.

Wendy enjoyed staring at Richard’s profile as he drove. They chatted about simple things. She didn’t want to delve too deeply into anything with the distraction of the highway before them.

Once they arrived at Smith and Wollensky’s restaurant, a valet parked the car. A starched tuxedo clad man escorted them to a table and handed them each menus.

Wendy sat contemplating the selection silently while Richard requested a bottle of red wine in anticipation of the steaks they would order.

Wendy pretended to be a helpless feminine creature and allowed Richard to do everything for her.  When the waiter left, Richard gave Wendy his undivided attention.

They were served the rich Merlot and Wendy raised her glass to her lips to taste it.

“Every time I see you you’re wearing fantastic jewelry. You must tell me how you have accumulated them all.” As if she were a delicate flower, Richard caressed her fingers while he admired the large cocktail cluster ring.

“My late husband’s mother had a passion for jewels. She was fabulously wealthy and bought a mint’s worth. When she died he inherited half her estate. Now that he is gone, they’re all mine.”

“I see.” Richard raised an eyebrow. “Have you ever had the entire collection appraised?”

“No, but a friend tells me they’re not paste.”

Before Richard released her hand he kissed it.

The waiter served them their salads.

“I agree. Not only are they not paste, but they’re the finest quality diamonds I have seen in a long while.” After one bite of his wild greens and vinaigrette salad, Richard paused. “You look beautiful tonight, Wendy.”

“Thank you, Richard. You aren’t half bad yourself. If you don’t mind my saying so.”

“No. Go right ahead.” He winked. “You can’t hear it enough at my age.”

“Your age? What? Thirty-five?” She low-balled his age on purpose to give him an ego boost.

“Forty.” Richard peered up sheepishly with his fork still hovering.

“You’re strikingly handsome. And that beautiful head of hair.” She wished she could reach out for a handful of it.

“Yes, thank God for that.”

“I’m only five years your junior and I don’t feel old at all.”

“I didn’t mean to say I feel old. On the contrary. I’ve really never felt better.”

“It’s working out that does it. You do, I can tell. You’ve a terrific bod. That tight ass of yours.” She licked her lips.

Richard grinned devilishly. “I don’t know how you can say that when you’ve never seen it.”

“Maybe my luck will improve.” She raised her glass to him in a toast.

“Yes, my dear, I have no doubt about us getting lucky tonight.” He tapped his glass on hers.

With Richard’s attention diverted to his meal, Wendy became absorbed in his features. He looked so familiar she was certain they had met before the first time in the diamond district. “Penny for your thoughts?” she asked.

Instantly Richard came back to earth. “I’m sorry. I guess I do have a lot on my mind.”

“Everything rosy in the gem world?”

“Work is fine. I was just thinking about my youngest son.”

“I see. What happened to your youngest son?”

“Girl trouble.” He laughed quietly. “It’s trivial, really, but I’ve never seen him so upset. He’s usually very controlled. Well, I suppose everyone has to fall in love sooner or later.”

“You make it sound like a chore.”

“Did I? I didn’t mean it to sound that way. I just hate to see him so upset.”

“It’s all right for a boy to feel love. He has to learn these emotions sooner or later.”

Richard set his drink down and studied her. “And would you be the type to take a young boy under your wing to teach him the ways of the world?”

“I don’t know. I might,” she replied smugly, thinking of one likely candidate.

Richard laughed heartily. “Oh, that’s rich. A woman like you teaching a young one?”

Wendy tried not to take insult. “Richard, it isn’t fun stumbling around. I’d have given anything for some guidance in those years. Maybe I would have chosen my husband more carefully.”

“Why, what was wrong with the husband you chose?” Richard leaned over the table.

“Never mind. We were talking about young love.”

Richard sat back in his chair. “Look, how else are we to learn all those wonderful lessons of growing up? You think you’d rather have someone explain the dangers of it rather than sampling the bittersweet taste of it first hand? That’s absurd.”

“I suppose.” She gazed off into the crowded room. “When you’re young and naïve you can stumble into things with complete innocence. It’s different when you’re old and wise like us. We don’t have those excuses for the things we do, do we, Richard?”

“Speak for yourself. That doesn’t prevent me from behaving like a juvenile delinquent on occasion.”

She was very surprised at the comment. “What could a sophisticated man like you do that is not totally respectable and honorable?”

In comic exaggeration, Richard checked his watch. “It’s early yet, give me an hour and maybe I’ll get drunk enough to tell you.”

Hmm…what do we have here? A really bad boy? Wild man in a business suit? Wendy could only hope.

Chapter Fourteen

Inside her sports car, Wendy was distracted with her purse and keys as she prepared to leave the college parking lot.

At rapping sound on her passenger window, Wendy rolled the glass down.

“Hi, gorgeous,” Keith purred, “Do you have time for a chat?” Before she could answer, Keith reached in, unlocked the door and climbed in next to her.

“Well. I guess I do now. What would you like to chat about?” She set her purse in the back seat and assumed this conversation would be about Peter.

To Wendy’s astonishment, Keith reached over and dug his fingers through her hair, urging her to his lips.

Wendy pressed both her hands on his shoulders, keeping him at bay. “Is this your idea of a chat?”

“God, you’re so pretty. Like Elke Sommers.” Keith leaned over the stick shift and ate at Wendy’s neck and jaw hungrily.

Elke Sommers? Me? Keith’s lips sent a rush of pleasure over her. Wendy gathered all of Keith’s long dark hair in her fingers, pulling it behind his head in a ponytail, trying to see his expression. The sight of his furrowed brow and gorgeous face made her crazy. “Jesus, Keith.”

Keith chuckled at her reaction, finding to her lips again. They kissed passionately until they needed to catch their breath. She sat back and stared at him.

Keith began toying with his zipper. “Suck me.”

“We’re in a car, Keith.”

“No one will see. Will you? Will you suck me, baby?”

It didn’t take much to imagine Keith’s dick through his clothing. The outline of his large swollen cock was very obvious against the skin tight denim. “Not in the car.”

“Look how crazy you get me.” Keith raised his hips off the seat as if he needed to convince her. He smoothed his hands over the imposing bulge in his jeans.

The gesture sent a shivering rush down Wendy’s back. Once more she stared at his face. Gorgeous, filled with wickedness and oozing sex, Keith was biting on his lip, begging her silently.

Seeing she needed a bit more prodding, Keith took her hand to his mouth and kissed it, then started sucking on her fingers.

Wendy squirmed and moaned. “You know just how fucking exquisite you are, don’t you, Keith?”

“Yes. I do.” Keith ran her fingers down his chest to his cock, rubbing himself with them. “I’ll give you something to remember. I’ll do amazing things to you, Wendy.” He reached over to envelope her mouth again.

She closed her eyes in a swoon of forbidden passion as he nibbled her earlobe trying to convince.

“Please, baby,” Keith purred.

“Okay, follow me.” Wendy paused and grabbed his jacket. “Wait. How old are you?”

“Fucking twenty,” he snapped, then added under his breath, “I will be in a couple months.”

“Okay.”

Keith punched his fist into the air in victory. “Yes! You got it, babe.”

Wendy ogled Keith’s ass and legs as he got out, then checked her make-up in the rearview mirror. It was then she noticed Keith’s Mustang was blocking her in. “Son of a bitch, you’re a cocky fucker.” She ran her hand through her hair. “I need a stinkin’ cigarette.”

Keith backed up, freeing her vehicle and waited. Wendy wriggled in excitement, headed home.

Keith’s heart was pumping fast. He reached into his glove compartment and ran a brush through his long hair as he drove.

No one said no to him. It was amazing. He got every woman he tried for. Every one.

When he was eleven Keith was seduced by his sixteen year old baby-sitter. He ejaculated before he even entered her, but he still remembered it fondly, recalling the closeness of her body, that secrecy of knowing they were sinning.

To the envy of all his friends, Keith had the satisfaction of always being the one in the crowd who got laid. Every family trip to the seashore, every summer, he had a girl to screw. Not that Keith liked any of them. On the contrary, he thought they were pathetically shallow and stupid. But, he adored being balled. And this! This was his oldest conquest. Keith never thought he would be attracted to older women, but he was broadminded and decided he would never turn down an opportunity. He prided himself in trying anything at least once.

Keith thought about Peter, chuckling to himself. I knew you would never be able to hold onto this one, Petey.

In reality, Keith doubted the relationship between Peter and Wendy was anything more than a platonic friendship. Peter never fucked anyone. “Or do you, little brother?”

Another wicked grin spread over his lips. “Sorry, pretty Petey, looks like this chick wants a man, not a boy.” With a quick peek in the rear view mirror, Keith shot himself a dazzling smile and tossed his brush back into the glove box. “Yes, Keith, you are simply irresistible.”

Keith upped the volume on the radio, singing Surrender by Cheap Trick, and followed the cherry red sports car until it turned into a driveway.

A garage door elevated. Keith parked behind it and hopped out. He met Wendy inside the garage. Without the need of a key, Wendy opened the door that connected to the interior of the house as dogs barked wildly from somewhere.

Keith looked around for them. “It sounds like a kennel.”

“Those are mine. They must be in the backyard.”

With a flash of jealous anger, Keith spotted a handsome man in her kitchen. “Who the fuck is that?”

“My maid, Steve.” She signaled Keith to the staircase.

“Maid?” Keith leaned over the rail and caught Steve’s eye. They stared at one another until Keith was out of his sight. “Maid?” he repeated. “That guy’s your fucking maid?”

“Yes. Will you forget him?” Wendy closed the bedroom door for privacy.

“He’s already forgotten.” Keith dropped his jacket to the carpet, pretending to be a stripper on a stage. He started to unbutton his shirt, catching his reflection in a full length mirror that stood near Wendy’s dresser. It distracted him. You look exactly like your quarterback brother, muscular and strong.

Keith lost himself as he thought of Peter, Peter’s shimmering silky hair, as long and full as his own. Snapping back to reality, Keith focused on his own face, thinking it was refined and as pretty as a woman’s. Jesus, I’d fuck me. Yum.

Being self-absorbed was so natural for Keith, he almost forgot Wendy, until she cleared her throat in an obvious signal.

He danced over to her, opened his pants and took his erect dick out of his clothing. “Come over here, babe.” He beckoned.

When Wendy hesitated, Keith closed the gap. As gently as he could, Keith clasped both her hands in his and kissed them, running his lips all over them. Keith placed Wendy’s palms on his chest and waited for her reaction.

Wendy smoothed her hands over Keith’s pectoral muscles and hard nipples.

Keith started to remove her blouse. “Let me see those gorgeous tits of yours.” She helped Keith take off her shirt and then unfastened her bra for him.

The first sight of her breasts sent him reeling. Keith wrapped his arms around her and started sucking and caressing them. “Wendy, you are fantastic...fantastic...” Backing up slowly, Keith guided her to lie on the bed, removing her high-spiked heeled boots, skirt and panties. He parted her thighs and pressed his face between them hungrily.

“Oh, you’re good, very good.” Wendy dug her fingers into Keith’s hair.

Keith licked at her juices, thrusting his tongue inside her. After a moment Keith sat up and stared at her crotch, stroking himself as he did. “I am going to fuck you like you deserve to be fucked.”

Keith dropped his pants and stood naked at the foot of her bed. Keith loved being on the stage and put on a little exhibitionist display for her, allowing Wendy time to admire his beauty. Like he was a model in front of a lens at a photo shoot, Keith lifted his hair off his neck and let it drop full, then shook it out and stared down at her seductively. “Grrr…” he teased.

Keith ran his hands down his tight rippled abdomen to his public hair and large cock. Wendy shivered visibly in anticipation. “You want it?” he hissed.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Suck me first.”

Keith crawled next to her and lay back, waiting. She kissed his lips, then worked her way down. Wendy’s mouth made contact with the head of his dick and Keith melted into pleasure. “Ah, that’s it. Yes, just like that.” Keith could only take a little sucking because he was close to a climax. He spread his arms out to his sides as he stared down at Wendy, watching as her lips stretched over his big dick. The orgasm was closing in on him. Keith gripped the base of his cock to stop it.

“Now I need to fuck you.” The last thing he wanted was to come in her mouth, this time.

Wendy sat back, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand as she gazed down at him.

Keith stroked his cock slowly, feeling her saliva on it. “Do you think I’m handsome, Wendy?”

“You are fucking unbelievable.”

“Tell me. Tell me how beautiful I am.” Keith leaned on his side and reached for her.

Wendy mirrored him and pushed the hair back from Keith’s eyes. “Your skin is like velvet.”

“More. Wendy, tell me more.” Keith pinched one of her nipples between his fingers.

“Do you really need me to tell you I think you’re gorgeous?”

“Yes, before I make love to you. Tell me something good.”

She shoved him to his back and climbed over his hips. “I think you are absolutely fabulous.”

“You mean that?” He reached up for both her breasts.

Wendy opened the nightstand and produced a rubber. Before she put it on, Keith recoiled. “What? Not one of those things.”

“Yes. Sorry.” She put the condom on his cock.

“I hate those fucking things.”

“Be quiet.” Wendy slipped Keith inside her.

When Keith felt the tight, wet heat he closed his eyes. “Yes. I’m in. Nice.”

Wendy started to squirm on him, whimpering.

It was music to his ears. Closing his eyes tighter, Keith pushed deeper into her. “You think I’m fabulous? Ah!”

“Yes.” She licked his shoulder and neck.

“The best looking fuck you’ve ever had? Ah! Yes!”

“Yes...”

“Oh, God, I’m coming...” Keith threw his head back and went into a spinning climax. He felt his balls tighten and his cock spewing out its load. Bliss. Fuck! I love to ball!

Keith caught his breath as he recuperated. Wendy was still grinding away on him. “Stop.”

“I’m not there yet.”

“I’m done. Get off me.” Keith nudged her.

Wendy glared at him and raised her hips off of Keith’s. “You’re done? And that’s it?”

Keith tore off the rubber in disgust and dropped it over the side of the bed, wiping his hand on the bedspread under him. “Sorry, babe.”

“Asshole.”

“What?” He heard it, but asked anyway.

“Nothing.” Wendy gave him her back and curled into the pillows.

Keith lay still, sweating, trying to calm down. Soon he fell asleep.

A short time later Keith awoke and rubbed his face tiredly. Wendy was still sleeping beside him.

Keith climbed off the bed soundlessly, found a bathroom and washed up, then put on his jeans and headed down the stairs for something to drink.

Like he owned the house, Keith opened the refrigerator and poured himself a tumbler of orange juice. He took the glass with him into the front hall and peered out at his car through the window.

The sound of men’s voices made Keith spin around. He crept to a doorway. The maid and another man were watching a boxing match on television. They shouted at the TV set until the maid noticed Keith. The maid nudged the other man and they both stared at Keith boldly.

“Hello, there.” The maid smiled flirtatiously. “You can come in, we don’t bite. Well, at least I don’t. I’m not sure about Bret.”

After giving each man a good once over, Keith wandered in and investigated the shimmering television screen.

“You want a beer?” Bret asked, offering Keith one.

“Sure.” Keith set down his empty juice glass and took the beer. When Keith touched the can, he said, “It’s fucking warm.”

Bret echoed, “It’s fucking warm, Steve,” making a playful face at Steve.

“I’ll get you a cold one.” Steve hopped up. “Iced mug?” he asked Keith.

“Yes,” Keith replied.

“Have a seat.” Bret scooted over, patting the cushion beside him.

“What fight are you watching?”

“Ali. You like boxing?”

“I’m not partial, either way.”

Steve returned, overhearing the last line “Really? Not partial? Swing either way?” Steve handed Keith the iced mug, sitting on the opposite side of Keith so Keith was surrounded. Steve leaned on Keith’s shoulder. “I think you should keep an opened mind. Why limit yourself?”

“Huh?” Keith licked his top lip where the beer had left a trace of foam. “Limit myself?”

Steve openly admired Keith’s naked chest and long hair. “Never mind. Where’s Wendy?”

“Asleep. I was about to head out.”

“You have to? Stay a while.” With the remote, Bret lowered the sound on the TV.

Steve folded his knee under himself, then with a very presumptuous gesture, he touched Keith’s long hair, tugging at a strand. “You’re awfully pretty.”

Keith turned towards Steve, his caress sent tingles down Keith’s back. “Think so?”

Steve winked at Bret. “Oh, yes. I’ve never seen a better looking guy than you. You ever try acting?”

Now that they were discussing something interesting to Keith, he sat up straighter, surging with pleasure. “I was thinking about it. You know, you like, read my mind. I should, shouldn’t I?”

“Such smooth skin, like satin.” Steve ran his hand over Keith’s naked shoulder and arm.

“And you’re very well defined.” Bret smoothed his hand over Keith’s chest.

“Put on a movie, Bret. The boxing match is over.” Steve nodded to Bret.

Bret hopped off the couch to a cabinet. After sifting through VHS tapes, Bret shoved one into the VCR and shut off the lights.

Steve kept caressing Keith’s arm, staring at his profile. “You like movies?”

“Sure.” Pretending he was indifferent to their contact, Keith raised his beer to his lips while staring at the screen. “What the hell is this? Porno?” He laughed.

Bret snuggled closer. “You like porn?”

About to say he did, Keith watched the scene closely. “Hang on. Is that two fucking guys?”

Steve put his arm behind Keith’s shoulders along the sofa’s back. “Close. It’s two guys fucking. You don’t like it?” Steve whispered in his ear.

“Shit! Do you?” Keith cringed. When Keith turned to look at Steve he was surprised at how close Steve was to his lips.

Bret combed his fingers through Keith’s long hair. “You are perfect. Just perfect.”

Keith spun back to Bret and found a dreamy look to his eye. “Perfect for what?”

Steve cupped his hand over Keith’s nipple. “Didn’t you say you’re not partial either way?”

“Partial? What?” Keith panicked, swallowing hard, guzzling his beer down to the bottom.

“Ever been blown by a man?” Bret nuzzled into his hair.

Keith winced and glanced back at the screen. “No. Why bother when women are so easy?”

“Men give better head.” Steve moved his caress to Keith’s thigh.

“Jesus!” Keith peeked down at Steve’s hand as both men nuzzled against him. “You guys aren’t serious.”

“But you’re so beautiful.” Steve kissed his cheek.

“Absolutely the best looking man I have ever seen.” Bret chewed on Keith’s ear.

Keith groaned. “You know just what to say to me.”

Steve replied, “Yeah. We know your kind.”

Keith laughed and then gave a casual shrug. “Shit. If you guys want to suck my cock, go right ahead. I fucking dare ya.”  I’ll call your bluff. I know you’ll never do it.

The sense of disorientation when Steve grabbed for Keith’s zipper and tugged it down left Keith breathless. A moment later, Bret put his fingers in Keith’s belt loops and yanked Keith’s jeans to his knees.

“Are you kidding me? You fuckers are serious?” Keith choked, elevating his empty beer mug up over their heads.

“God! Look at you! Oh, baby. You are a model.” Steve stroked him.

“Beautiful. You are absolutely beautiful.” Bret watched hungrily as Steve touched Keith’s cock, caressing Keith’s thigh, waiting his turn.

“Jesus!” Keith felt electric shocks course through him. He never had a man touch him sexually before. “You…you think I’m that good looking?”

Nodding, leaning down, Steve closed his mouth over Keith’s cock and sucked him.

Bret took his own cock out of his jeans and stroked it as he gazed at them. “Oh, yes, baby, you are unbelievable.”

“Oh, holy shit!” Keith was petrified. Should I push him away? Run for my life? What the hell?

Keith’s cock went rigid and a surge of potent demand filled his groin. Keith closed his eyes and felt the cold sweat break out on his skin.

Steve worked him with one hand on the base of his dick and his mouth on the head. When Keith looked at them he found both men jacking off simultaneously.

Shivering in disbelief, Keith’s eyes flickered from the explicit scenes on the screen to the two men pawing at him as they worked themselves to a frenzy. “Oh fuck! Ah! Ah!” Keith’s entire body stiffened when Steve cupped his balls and massaged them.

Keith couldn’t believe the intensity of the orgasm. He clenched his teeth, unable to hold back the rush of cum. It started at his toes and raced upwards. “Ah! Oh, Jesus Christ, I’m coming!”

The other two followed his lead a second later and Keith ended up spattered in semen.

“Oh, God. Oh, God.” Keith rested his head back on the couch and panted. “Oh, Christ. I didn’t think you would really do it.”

Steve sat back and stretched out his legs, a mist like sweat covered his face. “You are unreal, man, unreal.”

Bret started giggling. “You’re a mess.” He placed his hand on Keith’s sticky thigh and rubbed the spent cum around like it was moisturizing cream.

With a start, Keith said, “Fuck! Don’t smear it on me.”

Lighting up like a devil, Steve grinned and joined Bret as Keith started squirming away in revulsion, until they started tickling him.

“Stop!” Keith tried to push their hands away. “Really, guys. I’m too tired.”

They let up on Keith and leaned on his shoulders.

“We want you again,” Steve said.

“Now? I can’t do it again.” Keith moaned painfully. “I just screwed Wendy. This was my second. At least give me another minute.”

“Man. I could do it ten times when I was your age.” Bret laughed and caressed Keith playfully.

Keith nudged Bret’s hand away from his exhausted member and checked both of their expressions. At the sight of their evil smirks, Keith started to feel really odd. Keith reached for his pants as they hung around his ankles, trying to cover himself.

“Come back tomorrow.” Steve stopped him.

“Let me get dressed, come on, guys.”

Both men sat back as Keith stood. Before those tight jeans made their way upward, Steve grabbed Keith’s rounded ass. “To die for!”

It was too odd for Keith. He trembled against his will, trying to escape the confusing sensations. Keith moved to the other side of the coffee table and gazed back at their silly grins. “I need to go.”

“No. Stay the night,” Steve said, reaching out his hands as if to bring Keith into an embrace.

“I can’t.” Keith backed up like he was going to be shot from behind if he turned his back to them, making his way to the staircase. When Keith found Wendy’s bedroom empty, he breathed easier, washed up in her bathroom, and then finished getting dressed.

Keith jogged down the stairs quickly, anxious for an end to this whole bizarre scene.

“Going already?”

“Wendy!” Keith startled badly. “Uh, yeah, I have to get going. Bye, babe.” He pecked her lips and rushed out, not turning back.

As Keith removed his keys from his pocket, he felt the cold night air embrace his overheated skin. “Holy shit. That was the weirdest thing I have ever done.”

He dropped into the driver’s seat and paused before starting the car, staring at Wendy’s house. The more he thought about it, the more he smiled. “Son of a bitch. Even guys can’t keep their hands off me.”

Keith backed out of Wendy’s driveway, blasted the radio’s loud hard rock and roll; Pink Floyd’s Animals.

Tell me I’m beautiful. It means the world to me.

Keith knew all the ugliness of his personality was hidden by a brilliant colorful candy wrapper. Perfect, simply perfect. And two gorgeous older men desired him. How about that?

It wasn’t extremely late, but Keith knew his mother would be waiting up and he dreaded the questions tonight.

As expected, Louise gave Keith her usual third degree and Keith snapped more fiercely at her than normal before he stormed to his room.

“Keith?”

Freezing in his steps, Keith paused at Peter’s door.

“What’s Mom yelling about?” Peter was in bed, squinting at the hall light.

“Nothing. Go to sleep.” Keith started to walk away.

“Keith?”

Backtracking his steps, Keith entered Peter’s darkened room. “What?”

“Did you see Wendy at school tonight? I didn’t model for her Sunday and she didn’t show at Tuesday night’s class.”

Transformed into the guilty brat, Keith stuck his hands into his pockets.

“Was she there?” Peter asked.

“I don’t know. I cut class.” Keith tried to get away, craving a shower.

“Keith?”

“What?” he snarled in fury.

Peter replied with the same anger, “Forget it!”

Exhaling to calm himself, Keith scuffed his feet and sat next to Peter on his bed. “I’m sorry, I yelled. What is it, Pete?”

“You all right?” Peter sat up on his pillows.

“Yeah, perfect in every way. I’m always perfect. Why?”

Peter studied Keith’s expression.

“Look, it’s late and I’m beat. Ya done with your questions so I can shower and crash?” Keith placed his hand down on top the blankets.

In a panic reaction, Peter stiffened up. “That’s my cock!”

“Oh.” Keith raised his hand up off of him. “Damn I’ve got good aim.” Keith roared with laughter and couldn’t stop. “Oh, my life is too weird. Was it good for you as well?”

“Christ, Keith.” Peter shook his head. “Are you stoned again?”

With the whole evening striking a strange chord with him, Keith wiped at his eyes and tried to stop laughing. “No, ya got a joint? I need to get high right now.”

“Keith, it’s not funny. Quit it.” Peter pushed Keith’s hand away as it found its way to the same spot.

Still laughing hysterically, Keith stood up. “Oh, yes, it is. Very fucking funny. You have no idea.” Keith paused at Peter’s doorway and stared at Peter for a moment as he controlled his hilarity. “Oh, Petey. Life is one weird fucking trip.”

“Go to bed, Keith.”

Keith threw him a kiss and walked to his room. “One very strange fucking trip indeed.”

Infuriated, Wendy folded her arms and leaned against the doorway to the den. The men were straightening up the room, closing down the video and clearing off the table.

She didn’t want to confront Steve with Bret present so Wendy let the dogs in as Steve said good-bye to Bret at the front door. She led her pets into the den and began brushing the Golden Retriever. After she heard the front door shut Wendy called, “Steve?”

A moment later, he leaned into the room. “What is it, Wendy? I’m beat.”

“Grab a brush and do Lancelot. They were in the dirty yard.”

Sighing tiredly, Steve found a brush in a box by the fireplace. The Shepherd wagged and nudged him excitedly as Steve ran a brush over his black and tan coat.

Wendy peeked up at Steve, angry with him.

With his sandy blond, short hair, chiseled face, broad muscular shoulders and narrow hips, Steve’s sweet appearance contrasted his underlying wild personality.

“So,” Wendy had to begin somewhere, “Did you have a nice evening?”

“Yes.” Steve pulled a clump of hair from the brush and dropped it on a pile on the floor.

“More so because of Keith?”

It jolted him. Steve gave her his undivided attention.

Wendy met his gaze. “What’s the deal?”

“What?”

“You’ve never done this to me before. I had no idea we were competing. Is Richard next?”

“Keith told you?”

“No. I saw you guys.”

Thinking before he spoke, Steve replied, “He’s not your type, Wendy. Not at all.”

“Is it all right if I decide that?” She turned the dog around and brushed his flipside.

“Yes. I just didn’t think…I didn’t think—”

“He’d be willing?”

Steve met her eyes. “Yes. You know Bret and I aren’t exclusive. And we do like to share a guy occasionally. It’s our choice, Wendy.”

“Keith’s a conceited brat, isn’t he?”

Steve let out a deep exhale. “Yes, completely. And absolutely mother-fucking gorgeous.”

“I know, the little nymph.”

“How old is he?”

“Nineteen.”

“Good. Uh…Where’s Mr. Barnes been lately?”

“Out of town on business.”

“And Peter?”

“I can’t see him anymore. He’s got one hell of a crush going.”

“Oh, shame. The famous unfinished masterpiece?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so.”

Steve stood and tossed the brush back in the box and gathered up the pile of fur to throw out.

Wendy brought the Yorkie to her lap to tend next. “So, was Keith really a willing candidate?”

“Yes. It took nothing at all. Honestly, Wendy. The mere suggestion and he was game.”

“Bet you told him he was good looking.” Wendy grinned slyly at Steve.

When Steve realized it was the punch line, he laughed. “That was our ticket to his private parts. Yup.”

“Get going.” She shook her head and smiled.

“Goodnight, Wendy.”

After Steve left the room, Wendy muttered, “Men.”

Chapter Fifteen

The classic signs had begun but no one was there to notice. In a haze of depression, Peter went through the motions of going to school, failing his exams, neglecting his homework, and had even stopped going to the college for his modeling sessions. Why bother? Wendy was never there.

Bored, frustrated and isolated, Peter began having dark thoughts. Darker than anything previous to those he had considered as ordinary self-destructive images.

How to do it? How to die? What’s the fastest, easiest way?

Every detail had to be planned out. It had to work. No mistakes.

Headed home after school, absorbed in his problems, Peter walked three miles passed his house. He never even realized he had done it until he was very far from his own door.

When Peter finally became alert to his surroundings, he was in a strange neighborhood. It panicked him that he could have been so unaware of his route.

An anxiety attack gripped him and he tried not to become hysterical. He sat on a park bench to calm down.

I’m insane. I’ve lost my mind. I can’t think anymore. What the hell is wrong with me?

He wiped at his watering eyes, searching the main street for a telephone booth. As he stood inside the Plexiglas shield and dialed, Peter was shaking so badly he almost couldn’t put the coins into the slot.

“Mom? Can you come pick me up?” Peter bit his lip as his mother’s twenty question game began. “Please! Just come get me.” He read off the street signs to her and hung up.

After what seemed like an hour, Peter climbed into his mother’s car and held back his emotions which felt like a tidal wave of tears at the moment.

“Peter, why are you in Paramus? How did you get here?”

Petrified at his own lack of concentration, Peter stared out of the window, refusing to talk to her, not even knowing what to say to explain the mistake. It devastated him. How could he have lost track of himself like that? The fear gripped him so badly, he could no longer sleep at night.

“I can’t understand either of you boys anymore.” Louise shook her head. “Neither of you will sit and say a word to me.”

Peter clenched his teeth and closed his eyes.

One Saturday morning in March Peter finally got up the nerve to call Wendy.

Steve answered the phone. “Uh, sorry, Pete. Wendy’s out for the day. I’m sure she’ll contact you if she wants you to come by and model to finish the painting. So, see ya, Pete.”

With very little effort, Peter could picture Wendy standing next to Steve, coaching Steve on what to say. It only served as more pain and rejection.

Never had Peter sunk this low before. This ache was emotional, not the physical pain of his father’s occasional bursts of anger. No, those scars were only skin deep. This one cut to his core.

Day after day, week after week, Peter watched Keith with an envious eye. Keith always appeared on his way to or from some adventure and seemed content. Keith was never home.

Peter wanted to talk to him, but every time Peter mentioned Wendy’s name, Keith withdrew and made up a reason to stop the conversation.

It appeared Keith didn’t care about what Peter was going through. It didn’t matter that Peter was big and strong physically, he may as well have been an infant, for he felt completely helpless.

Peter paced his room like a caged cat, threw up his hands and had enough. He yearned for the solitude of the woods and rode his bike to the Ramapo Reservation.

Peter kept to the shoulder of the winding roads as huge Peterbuilt semi-trucks roared by. It was a twenty mile route from his home. The gravel parking lot jarred him as he kept the bike steady and judged the amount of cars to estimate the number of hikers on the trails.

Peter locked up his bike and walked the thawed, muddy path to the mountain top. It annoyed him that there were other people on the main path so he veered off the trail and kicked through the lingering snow crusts and last fall’s dead leaves.

He made his way deep into the forest until he spotted a large outcropping of rocks. Peter headed for it and climbed its stony face, digging his fingers into the cold boulders. Once he shimmied over the top he sat down to have a look around. He was on a ledge that jutted out over a deep ravine. If he looked due east, the massive skyline, the Twin Towers and Empire State Building of New York City was just in view through a gap in the trees. It was cloudy and gray. A morning mist still clung to the forest below.

Peter brushed the pebbles from under his bottom and stared off at the dense woods, thinking of Wendy. Again and again he ran over the last time they were together. Reliving it like a reoccurring nightmare.

He had ruined it by trying to make her do something she didn’t want to do. If he hadn’t told her he loved her…if he hadn’t tried to make love to her…they’d still see each other.

Peter cursed his stupidity, and now, his current misery. He rested his head in his hands and tried to figure out what he was doing wrong. It only served to confuse him. In complete frustration, Peter didn’t know where to begin to win her back. His eyes fill with tears. Who am I kidding? I can’t have her back. She refuses to see me. I’m a little boy to her. A little stupid kid.

At the passing of the dark-bottomed clouds, Peter’s thoughts turned to high-school. That direction brought no relief. It was even more defeating to think he had another whole year to go before he graduated. Quite simply, it was unendurable. He hated it. He wanted out.

Peter was the loner. He had no friends. Even Keith shunned him. Why am I so despised? Why can’t I make a friend? What would it feel like to have one dear friend? One I could tell things to. One who would always stand by me and not leave. Leave. Like Dad did. Leave me alone. Unloved.

Peter covered his face with his hands at the agonizing pain and humiliation, and cried. His mind drifted to scenes past and present; he, Keith and Jackie, playing as children in the snow, Christmas dinners ending in a beating, black and blue, lying in bed for hours not able to motivate himself to move.

Peter’s despair grew. It occurred to him suddenly how little he mattered to anyone. The feeling of impotency overwhelmed him. Yet again a thought gripped him. He wanted to kill himself.

Having made the decision, Peter wiped his eyes on his sleeve and stood up, finding the steepest part of the cliff. The trees jutted out like nails hammered at a forty-five degree angle. Peter let his toes hang over the edge and swayed forward, trying not to think about his mother.

As Keith walked by his sister, she asked him, “Where’s Peter?”

“How the hell am I supposed to know?” Keith snarled.

“You’re such a creep. I should know better than to ask you anything.” Jackie walked away and grumbled.

Keith waited for her to leave, picked up the kitchen phone and dialed.

“Hello?”

“Yeah, uh, is Wendy there?”

“Keith?” Steve asked.

Damn. “Yeah, it’s me.”

“She’s out tonight. Come on by, Bret and I are watching pro wrestling.”

“When will she be home?”

“Later. You coming?”

“I’ll think about it.” Keith hung up as his mother came in with bags of groceries.

“Keith, there’s more in the car,” Louise said, as she set them on the counter.

Keith nodded and went out to get the rest of the bags. The moment he came back Keith set them down and grabbed his keys.

“Where’s your brother?”

“How the fuck do I know?”

“Nice mouth.” Louise glared at him.

“Why does everyone ask me? He doesn’t tell me squat.”

Louise started emptying the bags. “Oh, some girl called you earlier.”

His heart flipped. “Who?”

“Uh, let me see. What was her name? It’s hard to keep track of them all.”

“Ma!”

“Jolene? Darlene? Something like that.”

“You sure?”

“I think so. Wait, I wrote it down.” She handed him a pad.

Keith read it and tossed it back on the counter, then went for the front door.

“Will you be home for dinner?” she asked.

“I don’t know.” He shut the door behind him. Keith dropped into the seat of his Mustang and started the engine. “What the fuck? Why won’t Wendy see me?” Keith grew angry and shifted into gear. “I’m the one who dumps chicks. Not the other way around.”

Peter reached the point where he was losing his balance. He felt a hand on his arm and shouted in terror, spinning around.

An old woman was gaping at him in fear. “Come away! Don’t stand so close to the edge. You’re liable to fall.” With more strength than she appeared to possess, she dragged Peter a safe distance from the steep drop and then stepped back to look up into his face.

Peter’s tears were running down his cheeks.

Her expression contorted in fear. “Sit down. Sit down.” She urged Peter to sit on the nearest boulder. “I know what you were trying to do. No! You mustn’t do this.”

Peter cringed in agony at someone discovering and stopping him. Humiliated, Peter turned away as his tears washed like rivers down his face.

She touched his arm lightly. “What is it, dear child? Why are you so upset?”

Peter choked with his sobs at her sympathy. “Go away.”

Cooing and shushing him, she hugged him tight and rocked him. “Okay…it’s okay…hush.”

Peter cried like a baby and couldn’t control himself. His body was trembling and felt ice cold. Peter wrapped his arms around her and wailed as if the dam had burst open and the flood of anguish rushed out in a tidal wave.

She squeezed him, rocking him softly. “Okay. Calm down.” The old woman pushed Peter’s long hair back from his forehead. “What is it? Why are you so miserable?”

How could he tell her? Admit I’m a freak and no one loves me? Oh, God. No. He hid his face in the fluff of her coat. “I want to die. Just let me die.”

“No. Don’t ever say that. Whatever it is that’s upsetting you will soon be in the past and you will move on.”

“No. It never goes away. It’s my life now.” Peter wiped his face on his sleeve and she offered him a tissue. He took it and thanked her.

“Let me take you home.”

“No! Leave me alone. Go away.”

“You have your whole life before you. How can you think of harming yourself?”

“What life? I have no one. I’m all alone.” He shivered and held back another sob.

“You have your mom and dad.”

“They don’t care,” he snapped.

“You know they do.” She petted his hair.

“No, they don’t. They don’t even have enough love for each other, let alone for me.”

As if she understood what he implied, she sighed and hugged him again. “All right. Don’t get upset. Is there anyone I can take you to?”

“No! Don’t you get it? I have no one. Didn’t you hear me? Leave me alone. I want to die!”

“I don’t want you ever to say that again.” She grabbed his shoulders, shaking him, making him search her eyes. “Listen to me. Never say that. I lost my grandson in Viet Nam and his life was very precious to me. Every life is important. And yours is too. You will learn from these times and they will make you stronger and more mature.” She lowered her voice. “In years to come you’ll look back and see how close you came to a horrible decision and thank God you lived to enjoy the richness of your life as an adult.” She studied his face. “I wish I were young like you. My life is mostly behind me now. At seventy I’ve accomplished much that I am proud of. If I’d been foolish in my youth and ended it, I’d have never helped the people I loved. You too, will touch people through your life and find joy in others.”

Peter was numb as he stared into her hazel eyes, trying to hear her. Her cheeks were rosy from the cold. Her skin was soft and creased around her eyes and mouth. Her hair was gray and cropped short.

She whispered, “What’s your name?”

“Peter Barnes.”

“Okay, Peter. I’m Edwina Campbell but my friends call me ‘Eddie’. Come on. Let’s take a walk.” Edwina reached out her hand, clasping Peter’s.

They began descending the mountain path.

“Will you help me?” Peter felt his lip quivering. “I have no one.”

“Of course I will, Peter.”

They hiked together speaking of the weather and casual topics, which gave Peter a chance to calm down.

Back in the parking lot, Peter pointed out his bike. Edwina opened the back of her Pacer hatchback and Peter put his bike inside it. Peter sat quietly as she drove him to her home.

Edwina parked behind a two story building in Glen Rock which was parallel to the Bergen County Main Line railroad tracks.

Once inside her building, Peter leaned his bike against the wall outside her door and inspected the tiny one bedroom apartment curiously.

“Sit. Take off your coat. I’ll make some hot chocolate for us.”

The odor of cooking grease and toast from the morning breakfast filled his nose. Peter draped his jacket over the back of a worn olive green colored chair and sat down. The numbness inside him was slow to dissipate. It wasn’t until Edwina returned with a steaming mug that he felt like he was aware of reality.

“Thank you.” He sipped the hot chocolate as a train rumbled by, it long basso horn giving three blasts as it passed through the crossing. Peter like the sound of the heavy diesels as they thundered down the rails.

The cocoa was too warm to drink. Peter placed his cup down on a cork coaster and noticed a few framed photos on the small round side table with a standing lamp poking through the center sporting a faded fringed shade. “Who is this, Eddie?”

“That’s my granddaughter, Linda. She’s about your age. Maybe you can meet her one day.” Edwina made herself comfortable across from him on a paisley print sofa with an off white background and matching olive green patterns.

Peter knew he’d never agree to the meeting. He replaced the photo and checked around the room. Smiling faces were everywhere in the many photographs that cluttered Edwina’s mantle and walls. “Who are all these people?”

“I have three daughters and two sons. All are married with families of their own.”

“Wow, that’s a big family.” A tabby cat curled around his leg. Peter reached down and scratched it behind the ears.

“That’s Aristotle. It’s just me and him now.” Edwina smiled wistfully.

“Why are you all alone when you have so many people who can take care of you?” The purring cat jumped onto his lap.

“I don’t need taking care of, just yet.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean—” Peter stroked the cat as it settled, curling into a ball on top of him.

“It’s okay, Peter. I like living on my own. I see my family quite often. They drop by or I stop by to see them. I’m not lonely. I come here for my time alone. My quiet time.”

“You like it alone?”

“Yes, Peter, I do like my time alone. But I’ve lived a full life and being alone isn’t hard for me.”

“It is for me.” Aristotle’s purr grew louder. “Eddie, why do I feel so different from everyone else?”

“Why do you say you’re ‘different’? In what way?”

“Well, at school, everyone seems to make friends and hang out together. Even when I was part of the football team, no one really liked me. They resented me because I was a junior. So, no one hung out with me.”

“I know it’s hard to make friends, dear.”

“I had one girlfriend, named Rose. But she just used me. She wanted to be with a football player. She didn’t like me for me at all.”

“I’m sorry, Peter.”

“Then there was Erin. But I can’t decide what I should do about her. We don’t have anything to say to each other. It was silent all the time with her.”

“You’ll find the right girl, Peter. You’re still so young.”

Peter met her eyes boldly. “But I did find the right girl.”

“The quiet one?”

“No. Someone else.”

“Who is this other girl, Peter?”

“I love her.” Peter’s throat tightened.

Edwina replied, “That’s not a bad thing, dear.”

“I love her more than anything. She’s like a fairy tale princess. She’s beautiful and sweet, and giving…” His heart quickened to be able to tell someone about her. “She’s an artist. She paints. She has three dogs, all the neatest animals. She lives in a big house in Ridgewood. She drives a Ferrari Testarossa. A Ferrari, Eddie. Do you know what that is?”

Edwina’s smile quickly changed to a look of suspicion.

“She loaned me her jewels to look at. They were right out of a museum catalogue. I’d never seen anything like them. But she trusted me with them. My dad couldn’t believe it. But she loves me, that’s why.” As if Peter were manic, he was rising from the depth of a suicide attempt to the sensation of being high. Able to share what Peter thought was one of the best times in his life was exhilarating.

“Peter,” Edwina asked, “Is she married?”

“No, a widow.”

“How old is she?”

Peter suddenly felt sick. The low at the end of the roller coaster high had hit. He turned his attention to the cat sleeping on his lap.

“Peter.”

“Thirty-five.”

Edwina appeared furious.

As the silence passed over the room, Peter read her expression. “No! Don’t hate her. It’s me you should hate. I’m the one who tried to make her do it. She didn’t want to. She’s innocent. She just wanted to paint me. It was me. I ruined it!” Peter couldn’t catch his breath.

The cat hopped off his lap and hid behind the sofa.

Seeing the look of disgust in Edwina’s expression overwhelmed Peter. Peter covered his face and moaned. “I ruined it…it was me.”

“No, Peter. She should have known better. She put you in that position? Bringing you home, to paint? Is that how she did it?”

“This was why I never talk to anyone. You don’t understand.” Peter stood up.

“How old are you, Peter? That woman should be arrested.”

“Oh, God, no. No, you’re wrong. You’re very wrong.” Peter broke down. See? I tell someone my deepest thoughts and look what happens? I’m insane to trust anyone.

Edwina rose to her feet. “Okay, you’re right, dear. I don’t know the whole story, do I? Sit down. It’s okay.” She rubbed his back and persuaded him to relax in the chair again. “Where did you meet her, Peter?”

“In an art class at the community college. She…she came to the evening class I was modeling for.” Drained of energy and his life, Peter ran his fingers through his hair tiredly.

“I see. What’s her name?”

“Wendy.” He slouched heavily and stuck his hands between his knees. “Wendy Saunders. Why? You’re not going to do anything, are you?” The panic returned.

“You just calm down.” She touched his forehead and brushed his hair back from his eyes.

Peter was covered in sweat like a fever had a grip on him. He felt sick.

“Okay, dear. Stop fretting.” Edwina sat down on the sofa again. “Let’s talk of other things. So, you told me on the hike down the mountain you wanted to be a gemologist. Very nice. I have some old jewelry collected. Would you be interested in looking at it?”

Though he wasn’t in the mood, Peter gave her a polite nod.

“It’s nothing really. Let me get it for you.”

Peter checked his watch as she left, wondering if his mother would be worried yet.

Like a little girl bringing a gift of chocolates, Edwina returned with an old wooden box and placed it on his lap.

Peter tried to pretend he cared and raised the lid, rummaging through the costume beads and clip-back earrings.

She giggled and slipped a gaudy beaded necklace over her head.

Methodically, Peter sorted through the clumps of glass and fake gold. He removed a pin from the pile and inspected it closely. It had a large emerald cut green stone in the center that he immediately assumed was imitation. It was in a base metal finding with the gold plating wearing off and some other oddly colored amber and brown stones surrounding it. Peter held it under the table lamp for a better look. “This one’s very unusual. Do you know anything about it?”

“Hang on. Let me get my glasses.” When Edwina returned, she took another look. “That belonged to my mother. I don’t know a thing about it. I think it’s quite ugly.”

Peter tilted it side to side, trying to see it better in the poor lighting.

“Take it with you. I never wear it.” Edwina rushed to the kitchen and brought back a small sandwich bag. Peter put the pin in it. “Take anything you think you’d like to play with.”

“This is the only one.” Peter checked his watch again.

“Will your parents be worried?” Edwina took the box off his lap.

“No. Not yet.”

“Let me drive you home.”

“I can ride home. It’s really close.”

“No, Fair Lawn is not really close.”

“It is if you cut through Radburn.”

“I’m just not sure I want you on your own yet.”

“I’m okay.”

Edwina put her hands on her hips as she stared at him. “I’ll let you go alone only if you write your home address and phone number down for me, then call me when you get home.”

Suddenly Peter felt as if he had two mothers.

“Peter, promise me.” She shook him by the arm.

“I promise.”

Edwina handed him a pad and pen and watched as he wrote. Peter gave it back to her and said, “Thanks for listening to me, Eddie.”

When she hugged him tight Peter thought she felt very tiny and frail in his arms.

“I can trust you to not do anything foolish. Right? Or do I call your mother right now?”

“No, please don’t. I’m okay. I promise I won’t do anything stupid.”

“My dear, you’re so young, so handsome, and so intelligent. Please, give life a chance and don’t let it defeat you.”

That kind of talk choked Peter up. He wiped at a tear and bit his lip, trying not to cry again.

“I’m here anytime, day or night, if things get too much for you. I would love for you to visit with me regularly now, so I know you’re all right.”

“I will. I have your pin.” He held it up.

Edwina walked him to the door. Peter flipped the kickstand back on his bike in the hallway. “Bye, Eddie.”

“Call me when you get home.”

“I promise.”

With his last energy reserves, Peter parked his bicycle in the garage and climbed the front porch steps tiredly. His mother and sister were in the kitchen about to serve dinner.

Louise asked him, “Are you hungry?”

Peter wondered if he had the stomach for anything. He shrugged.

Louise prepared a plate of food for him as Peter washed his hands and splashed his face at the kitchen sink. Peter sat down and tried to ingest some food.

“Where did you disappear to today?” Louise asked.

“I rode my bike to Ramapo.”

Jackie widened her eyes. “Peter, that’s so far!”

“It’s not that bad.” He sipped his apple juice.

“I’m glad to see you eating something, Peter. It seems lately you’re just pushing your food around your plate.”

“I’m fine.” Peter force-fed himself to shut her up. His appetite had indeed left when his heart was broken last January.

Uninvited, yet undaunted, Keith parked his car in front of Wendy’s house. After a check of himself in his rearview mirror, Keith smiled at his reflection, blowing himself a kiss. He hopped out of his car with a light bound, and rapped his knuckles on the front door.

To Keith’s disappointment, Steve opened it and smiled brightly. “Hello, gorgeous!”

“Uh…hi.” Keith stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Wendy here?”

“She’s here, but she’s going out. I’m free, however.” Steve leaned against the door frame and ran his hand through Keith’s long brown hair.

Trying to play it cool, Keith stretched back from his reach and stepped by Steve into the foyer. The dogs were there for a sniff. Keith ignored them and visibly searched around for Wendy.

A second later, Wendy hurried passed Keith and headed up the stairs. “Hi, Keith. Are you here to see Steve?”

Keith peeked back at Steve for his reaction. Steve winked flirtatiously at Keith. Keith ignored him and followed Wendy. “No, I was hoping to steal you away.”

“Can’t, hot date.” She hurried into her bedroom and began putting jewelry on.

Keith closed the bedroom door and stood where he could see both Wendy and himself in the dresser mirror’s reflection.

Wendy poked an earring through her earlobe, catching Keith’s eyes in the mirror.

Keith tossed his jacket on the floor, not wanting to waste a moment of his precious time. He threw his shirt on top of his jacket and shook back his hair in a seductive gesture. Keith opened his top jeans button and spread the zipper wide.

Wendy turned around slowly.

Keith knew he was impossible to resist. He approached her, digging his hands into Wendy’s hair along both sides of her head and drew her into a kiss.

She moaned softly and touched Keith’s chest.

Keith backed them up to the bed and persuaded her down.

“I can’t.” She caught her breath from the kissing and sat up.

Keith wriggled out of his tight jeans and smoothed his hand over his hard cock.

“You sexy little whore. What right do you have to look that good?” she said.

“Good enough to eat?”

Wendy grinned slyly and crawled over to him, taking him into her mouth.

At the oral penetration, Keith shivered and closed his eyes. “I want your pussy, baby…not your mouth.”

She laughed and sat up again. “Oh, Keith, you have the body of a god, but you just don’t have Peter’s class.”

Like a flash of heat lightning, his passionate expression turned to rage. “Don’t ever tell me shit like that!”

“Aw. Truth hurt?”

The fury washed up on Keith like licking flames. He felt the urge to strike her. “Too bad he can’t ball you like I can.” Keith grabbed Wendy’s arm and yanked her on top of him, nuzzling into her hair. “I want to be the one. The one you call to get your rocks off with. I don’t need conversation, Wendy. You can have Peter for that if you want. Just fuck me.” He kissed her neck and felt her shiver.

“Don’t worry, Keith, for that, you’re top on the list.”

“Good.” Keith urged Wendy closer. “Go ahead and fuck it. You know you want to.”

Wendy paused a moment as if to consider. She grabbed a condom from her nightstand, put it on him, then straddled Keith’s thighs.

When he felt her slippery heat, Keith said, “Nothing on under your skirt? You dirty woman.”

“Shut up and fuck me.”

“My pleasure.” Keith jammed his hips upwards. “Ah!”

The family at the dinner table glanced up from their meal when Keith entered the room. Keith threw his jacket on a chair and his keys on the counter, then leaned over the table to eye the assortment of food. “What are you eating? I’m starved.”

“Sit down, Keith.” Louise stood up to get him a plate.

Peter said, “Ma, let him get it himself. He’s not a cripple.”

“Shut up, you prick.” Keith growled and sat down, pouring himself some juice.

“You lazy bastard. She’s in the middle of eating,” Peter said.

Jackie scowled at Keith in support of Peter.

“It’s all right, stop arguing. I did it for you, Peter, I can make up a plate for Keith.” Louise set the dish loaded with food in front of Keith and resumed her dinner.

Keith glared at Peter, thinking of Wendy’s comment. It took everything he had to not tell Peter he had fucked her, but Keith knew Peter would whine to Wendy about it. Wendy didn’t need a brat giving her a hard time. I hope you can smell her on me, punk.

A wash of the sensation of shooting his cum inside Wendy made its way over Keith’s length. Keith aimed his wicked smirk at Peter as he relived it.

Peter glared at Keith and averted his eyes.

“So, what have you been up to all day?” Louise asked.

“Oh, nothing much…cruising, meeting friends, getting laid.” With the last words, Keith grinned at Peter.

“Mom,” Jackie complained.

Peter slammed down his fork.

“Keith, please.” Louise sighed loudly.

Keith laughed. “Well? You asked.”

Peter stood and set his dish in the sink, rinsing it and putting it in the dishwasher. “Thanks, Mom, call me if you need help clearing up.”

“I will, thank you, Peter,” Louise said as Peter left the room.

“Brownnoser!” Keith called after him. Fucking wimp.

“Keith. Please.” Louise met his eyes.

Keith gobbled down his food, growing furious again as Wendy’s insult cut deep. “Oh, Keith…you have the body of a god, but you just don’t have Peter’s class.”

Peter climbed the stairs to his room and sat with the phone and a piece of scrap paper on his lap. It was a little late, but he remembered his promise to call Edwina to let her know he was all right.

He removed the pin from of his shirt pocket and fingered it absently as he waited for her to pick up. “Hello? Eddie? It’s Peter. I’m home.”

“That took you a long time, Peter. I was beginning to worry.”

“I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m really fine…Okay? Gotta go. Bye.” He hung up and then brought the pin with him to his Gemscope. Peter clamped it under the lens and turned on the microscope’s light. He brought the center stone into focus.

“Holy crap!” Peter shoved out his chair and thumbed through his books anxiously, his heart pounding in his throat, trying to find the right page. Peter sat with a book on his lap and, just to be certain, stared back through the lenses again. With his focus on the other satellite stones, Peter could not believe his eyes.

“You little piece of shit.” Keith stood at his doorway. “Why do you always make me look bad? When do I ever do that to you?”

“Not now, all right, Keith?” Peter set up his refractometer with shaking hands.

Keith grabbed Peter by his collar, jerking Peter up to face him.

Not expecting the reaction, Peter widened his eyes in surprise. “What?”

“You think you’re mister perfect? I think I may need to kick the shit out of you.”

Peter pushed Keith back. “What the fuck did I do now?” he yelled. “Just because of before? Give me a break!”

Rushing him, Keith grabbed Peter’s shirt and dragged Peter within an inch of his face. “You pampered little brat. Everyone’s mother-fucking favorite.”

Something inside Peter shattered. It had never come to this between he and Keith before and it mortified him. “Keith, what is it? What did I do?” Peter wasn’t afraid, just bewildered.

“You just watch your ass, little brother. Just watch your ass.” Keith shoved Peter back onto his bed and left.

Peter lay still to collect his thoughts. He straightened out his shirt and felt like crying. What did I do to deserve that? He wiped at his eyes and made his way down the hall, head bowed.

Peter stood at Keith’s door and knocked. When Keith didn’t answer, Peter pushed it open. Keith was stripped from the waist up.

Keith peered up from underneath his long hair and stood straight, growling.

“Keith. What did I do? Please. I can’t take us fighting right now. I’m too fucked up about everything else in my life. Tell me so I can say I’m sorry.”

“Jesus, Pete, are you crying?” Keith shook his head. “It was just stupid. Forget it.”

Peter broke down into heaving sobs.

Keith rushed over to Peter and held him at arm’s length. “Peter, I said forget it. I’m sorry, okay? You don’t have to cry.”

Peter tried to cover his face, twisting away in shame.

Keith wouldn’t let him. As tightly as he could, Keith embraced Peter, squeezing Peter tight.

Peter tried with all his might to control himself.

“Stop crying. I love you, Peter. Stop crying.”

“I’m fucked up. I’m so fucked up,” Peter moaned.

“No. It was my fault.” Keith rested his lips against Peter’s neck. “You mean the world to me, Peter. I won’t do that to you again.”

“Keith, please lay off me for a while. I can’t handle it.”

“Okay, baby, okay.” Keith nuzzled into Peter’s hair.

Peter closed his eyes and inhaled a deep breath. As his muscles let go of some of their tension, Peter became aware of something odd.

Peter leaned back to see Keith’s face. Keith’s eyes were closed and his lips were parted sensuously.

Peter broke their contact and backed up. When he did, Keith opened his eyes and the stare Peter received from Keith raised the hairs on the back of his neck.

Peter returned to his room and closed the door. Once he sat down at the Gemscope again, Peter tried to pretend he never felt his brother’s cock throbbing against him. A shiver of revulsion washed over Peter. “What the fuck, Keith? What the fuck?”

Chapter Sixteen

Monday morning Peter cut school and headed to the train station. He rode the Bergen Line into Hoboken and then went underground to the PATH subway. It was crammed with commuters as the train squealed noisily in its black tunneled route. Peter ascended to street level and became instantly anonymous on the crowded New York City avenues.

Peter leaned against a glass door and waved at a man on the inside. The man buzzed Peter in and coaxed him over.

“What brings you into the city on a school day, Mr. Barnes? Hmm?”

Peter smiled shyly. “Hi, Seymour. You won’t tell Dad, will you?”

“Do I look like a snitch? What can I do for you?” Seymour pushed his glasses higher on his nose.

Peter reached into his pocket and cupped the fragile pin. “Seymour, I’m not sure what I have, but I think it’s very rare.”

“Sure, Peter.” Seymour smiled and set out a velvet pad on the counter.

“Really. Listen. This stone tests out to be a demantoid garnet.” Peter still had it concealed. “It has a horsetail inclusion right under the table.”

Seymour leaned over the counter, very interested.

“But that’s not all. I estimate its weight at about eight carats. Isn’t the largest gem quality demantoid known only around six carats?”

“Yes. Let me see.” Seymour reached out for it eagerly.

“Wait! There’s more. It’s got colored diamonds around it. I bet they’re natural. Yellows! Browns! Greens!”

Seymour studied Peter closely. “When did you get your gemology degree? Last I heard you were in high-school. Are you taking it through correspondence courses?”

Peter lowered his head shyly. “I’ve not taken the course yet. I study on my own.”

“What?” Seymour gasped. “Let me see it.” He signaled anxiously.

Peter handed Edwina’s pin to him delicately. Seymour slid down his loupe from its perch on his forehead and turned on a bright light, studying it very closely. “You did an R.I.?”
“Yes.”

“And?”

“One point seven-two.”

“Doubly refractive?”

“No.”

Seymour stood straight and sighed. “Well, my young friend, we do indeed have a demantoid garnet.” He took out his millimeter gauge to calculate its weight. “My, word.”

“What? Seymour? It’s really valuable, isn’t it?” Thinking of telling Edwina, Peter hopped excitedly.

Seymour nodded. “Yes, I think so.”

“And the diamonds, natural, right?” Peter couldn’t catch his breath.

Seymour gestured to Peter to wait one minute, then he brought the pin over to another man. Peter held his breath as they conferred. Peter almost burst when Seymour returned.

“Peter, we have a very unusual piece here. Can I send it out to someone who specializes in appraising older items? He will do us the best job.”

“Yes. Of course.” Peter trembled nervously. “But how much do you think its worth?”

The sheen glowed on Seymour’s head as he rubbed it and stared at the pin. “I don’t really know. It could be as high as one hundred thousand dollars. Who knows?”

Peter felt the blood drain from his face. He couldn’t wait to tell Edwina.

Seymour wrote up a full description on a receipt and handed the paper to Peter. “You want me to call your father when I get it back?”

“No, me, please.” Peter wrote his home phone number down.

“Okay. I’ll call you as soon as it comes in.”

“Thanks, Seymour.”

“Okay, Mr. Barnes, now get back to class.” Seymour wagged his finger.

Peter laughed and found his way outside. It was bright blue and sunny, but Peter never gazed above the tall maze of buildings. He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts, then stepped directly into someone. “Oh! Sorry,” Peter said shyly, only to find himself staring into Wendy’s eyes. They both gasped in surprise.

“Peter? What on earth are you doing here?” She brought him out of the mainstream of pedestrian traffic to huddle against a building.

“I’m…I’m…” It was the first time Peter had seen her in almost two months. His stomach flipped nervously and he trembled.

“Are you missing school? Most boys go to the county parks to cut class. I should have figured you’d end up in the diamond district.” She giggled. “So, how’s the modeling going? I haven’t been to class in ages, I’m so bad.”

“I…I was just…”

“I came here to pick up a diamond I had certified. Remember when you told me all about getting things certified? Come in with me to pick it up and then I’ll take you to lunch.” She tried to hook his arm.

“No.” Peter stopped her. “No, Wendy, I really need to go.” An icy feeling gripped Peter’s stomach.

“Oh.” She pouted. “Okay. Some other time then.”

“Yes…some other…” Peter stared at her lips, her shining blue eyes. Agony began to make its way over him. I can never have you. Never.

Wendy tilted her head. “You okay, Peter?”

God! I love you! Peter bit his lip and grabbed her, pulling her into a kiss.

On contact, Wendy gasped and stiffened.

Before Wendy had the chance to push him away and reject him, Peter sprinted off, trying to vanish into the mob of New Yorkers.

“Peter!”

Peter covered his ears as he ran, trying not to hear her voice or recognize her footsteps chasing him. That painful sobbing was rising in his chest again as he raced down the sidewalk, shoving people out of his way.

Short of breath, his ribs aching, Peter slowed down once he was a few blocks away. He hadn’t been paying attention to where he was headed and looked up to see Madison Square Garden. A feeling of disorientation washed over him as he tried to get his bearings. When he turned right on W27th Street he looked around.

Peter was standing in front of the Fashion Institute of Technology and felt very lost indeed. He sat on a cement wall that edged the sidewalk and attempted to calm down and think. He checked his watch. It was only eleven o’clock in the morning. There were no direct trains that early to Fair Lawn and he was considering walking home from the nearest train station, which was Glen Rock.

He wiped the sweat off his face from his run, while students hustled to and from class around him. Peter observed them dully as they passed, hardly taking note of his presence.

He fell into a daydream, lost on the taste of Wendy’s lips and the scent of her perfume. “Wendy,” he said silently, like a prayer.

If we had gone to lunch, you would have reminded me that we can’t be together. That we’re ‘friends’. Just really close ‘friends’. How was I going to stand that?

Coming back to the present Peter realized a man in a suit was staring at him. “Oh, give me a fucking break, mister,” Peter mumbled under his breath and turned away.

“I’m sorry if I’m being rude,” the man said as he stroked his trimmed beard. “You’re a model for the painting class, aren’t you?”

In astonishment, Peter connected to his gaze. “Not here.”

“No? Then why is there a painting of you in our student gallery?”

“There is? Here? I model for Bergen Community College in Jersey.”

“Come with me.” The man waved him along.

Peter followed the bearded man as he chatted about the painting. Before they were allowed entry into the college the man showed his I.D. to the guard at the desk. Peter read the word ‘Faculty’ on the identification card.

“You have to sign in,” the professor said. As Peter did, the professor watched Peter write from over his shoulder.

Voices echoed down a long corridor. “This way, Peter.” The professor gestured. They came to a halt at a gallery.

“That is you, isn’t it?” the professor asked.

“Yes, but, why is it here?”

“Well, the artist obviously wanted credit for it. Regardless, you’re fantastic. Are you free for my drawing class?” The professor checked his watch.

“Drawing class?” Peter checked the time too.

“We pay twenty dollars an hour. Come on, you must have some time.”

“Twenty dollars an hour?” Peter replied, “Cash?”

The professor rolled his eyes and consulted his wallet. “Yes, cash, I’ll have the school reimburse me.”

“Okay.” Peter shrugged. He needed to kill some time before the next direct train to Fair Lawn anyway.

Peter walked down a hallway with the professor where the man met another instructor. The two teachers discussed Peter as if he were an inanimate object. They pointed out his fine features and muscular frame, much to Peter’s complete embarrassment.

“Will you mind, Jon, if I sit in on the session? I’d love a chance at him,” the second professor asked the first.

“Not in the least.” Jon led the way as Peter swallowed nervously down a tight throat.

The classroom was huge, twice the size of the one in the community college. It could easily accommodate forty people.

Jon pointed to a small closet. “Would you mind changing now so we can get a few sketches in before class begins?”

Peter nodded and entered the little dim room. When he was naked he peeked out, clearing his throat. The two professors signaled him over anxiously.

Peter climbed up on the center stage. The unoccupied easels were in a full circle around him. A human skeleton hung in a corner by the wall. Peter fixated on its toothy grin for a moment, then faced the men. “What do you want me to do?”

“Just something casual,” Jon said.

The professors set up large pads and took off their suit jackets.

Peter fell into a relaxed pose and stared off into space.

“Beautiful.”

After the comment, Peter heard the conte crayons snapping in excited fingers.

Within a few minutes, Peter glimpsed some students entering. They became quiet as they noticed the two professors working.

The students set up quickly and got sketching.

Peter tried not to blush as female after female entered the room. He had no idea the school was mostly women. In humiliation, Peter looked away from their hungry leers, staring back the skull with its vacant eye sockets.

Peter began fidgeting. He was getting tired. Come on! I need a break.

There was no timer set. Peter bent his knees, shifting his weight from leg to leg. Finally, one of the instructors noticed it. “Peter, take five.”

Peter stretched his back, sighing with relief. He searched around for his robe, then he remembered he didn’t have one. With no other options, Peter slipped on his jeans and sat in a chair by the closet.

When the class was full, one professor left while Jon shut the door. He stood in the center of the room and said, “I want good work from all of you with a model of this quality. So take your time and get the gestures right. Peter has perfect symmetry and his poses are superb.”

Jesus, build me up why don’t you? Peter felt his face burn with his blush. My luck I’ll trip or get a fucking hard-on now.

When the scheduled art model arrived she was shooed away callously by Jon.  She stormed out in a huff.

Too soon for Peter’s liking, he was called back again to the platform. He removed off his jeans and stood tall. It was then Peter spotted the only two males in a sea of females.

They young men were dressed as if they were women, with dyed brightly colored hair and layered in fake showy garments and jewelry. Peter grimaced involuntarily until he caught one of their eyes. When the painted male student blew Peter a kiss, Peter turned his head away quickly in embarrassment.

A timer was finally set up and Peter was glad he could have scheduled breaks. The first hour past quickly, followed by a fifteen minute rest.

Peter grabbed his jeans and shirt to slip on before he headed out in the hall to get a drink of water. He found a group of girls eyeing him hungrily and closed his shirt over his chest, buttoning it. One of the boys from the class watched him.

Since Peter had his attention, Peter asked him, “Where’s the men’s room?”

The young man gestured in exaggeration.  “Follow me.”

Peter could not get over the pronounced lisp and wiggle. He’d never met anyone like this person before.

With a flourish, the effeminate man opened the door for Peter as he and his painted friend followed Peter in.

Peter headed to the urinal, feeling their presence behind him. He peered over his shoulder finding them watching him. Peter finished and washed his hands at the sink, checking himself out in the mirror.

“Are you going to be our regular model?”

“No.”

They both moved closer to Peter. “Why not? We want you.”

“Because I’m still in high-school.” Peter tried to get by them to the door.

“You are?” They gasped.

Before he left the men’s room, Peter asked, “Why do you dress like that?”

“Like what?” One of the boys batted his lashes at Peter seductively.

“Nothing.” Peter moved beyond them into the hall.

The last hour Peter did reluctantly. He didn’t like those boys watching him and licking their lips at him seductively. When he was done Peter dressed quickly and wanted to go home.

Jon met him at the closet door and held out cash. “Could you fill this out so I can get reimbursed?”

Peter took the pen. In a nearly illegible script as he rushed, Peter scribbled down the information and handed it to Jon.

“Seventeen?” Jon said.

“Yes, is that a problem?”

“No. No problem at all.” Jon tore up the paperwork and rolled his eyes. “I guess it’s on me.”

Peter didn’t know what to say.

The second instructor approached Peter. “Do you have time to do one more class? Same rate?”

“He’s seventeen.” Jon informed the second instructor. “You need to do it under the table.”

“Shit.” The second professor checked his own funds. “Oh, hell, he’s worth it.” He winked at Peter.

“Another class?” Peter glimpsed at his watch.

“My class is a fashion modeling drawing class. With clothing. Piece of cake. Come with me, gorgeous.” The professor grabbed Peter’s hand and dragged him down the hall.

Crap. Peter was already dead on his feet.

By six p.m. Peter was one hundred dollars richer and completely exhausted. His brain felt dead and his limbs were aching. Wrapped in his leather jacket, Peter glimpsed up at the darkening sky, worrying about coming in late. He hustled down Seventh Avenue searching for a subway entrance, knowing there was one around there somewhere. Maybe its inside the entrance to one of the department stores.

Peter felt someone walking right behind him. He ignored it and kept his concentration on finding the PATH entrance.

He was grabbed and shoved back into a brick wall. Peter cringed at the hit to his newly healed ribs and tried to stay calm as a wave of panic tried to flood over him.

Peter was surrounded by a small gang of youths not much older than himself. He could now see the one who had grabbed him was holding a knife.

“Hand over the leather jacket, asshole. Now!”

“Get his wallet! Get his wallet!” his friends shouted.

Moving slowly, staring at the knife, Peter took off his jacket and held it out.

“Wallet.” The blade wielder brought the weapon to Peter’s chin.

Peter turned his head away from it and felt around his back pocket for his wallet. It was snatched out of his hand and laughter followed with the discovery of the cash inside. Once the money was removed, the kid dropped the wallet on the sidewalk.

A girl came up behind the knife holder. She pointed at Peter and said, “He’s covering over his front jeans’ pocket. What’s he got in there?”

In his exhaustion and fear, Peter shook his head and pressed back into the wall.

The knife wielder punched Peter in the chest causing Peter to double over in pain. “Oh God,” Peter cried as his delicate ribs split once more. He lost his breath quickly and knew he was in no shape for battle.

After another powerful blow to softened Peter up, the girl grabbed Peter’s wrist and started to fight Peter over the contents of his pocket.

Peter growled in rage and impelled her backwards. “No! Get the fuck away from me.” Something hit Peter’s side and he felt a burning sensation instantly. For some reason the group scattered like rats down the dark street.

In horrible pain, inside and out, Peter gripped under his ribs as he attempted to reach down to retrieve his discarded wallet. When he felt something warm and sticky Peter looked at his hand. It was wet with his blood. “Oh, Christ,” he moaned, and leaned against the wall to stop a wave of dizziness from the sight. He stumbled down the subway stairs, to get away from the darkening New York City night.

Wendy worked on her canvas diligently. She was back in class but disappointed Peter was not modeling. After seeing him earlier that day in Manhattan, Wendy was hoping to speak to Peter to make amends.

“Wendy?”

“Yes, Jerry?” Wendy set her brush down.

“There’s a woman in the hall who insists on speaking to you.”

“A woman?”

“Yes. She made it sound important. What do you want me to tell her?”

“Let me see what she wants.” Wendy wiped her hands on a rag and walked to the door. An old woman was glaring at her when she opened it. “Yes? What can I do for you?”

“Are you Wendy Saunders?”

“Yes. Do I know you?”

“No, but I need to talk to you now. It’s urgent. It involves a young boy named Peter.”

Wendy felt the blood drain from her face. “Peter? Is he in trouble?”

“Yes, he is, thanks to you!”

Wendy felt a pang of guilt. “Hang on. Let me get my purse.” Wendy returned, gesturing for the woman to come along with her to the cafeteria.

They bought two cups of coffee from a vending machine and sat down at a table.

“Are you related to Peter?” Wendy thought this woman may be Peter’s grandmother.

“No, I’m just a friend.”

“Oh?” She was even more baffled. “So? What’s so urgent?”

“Look, dear, do you have any idea what you have done to that sweet little boy? You have brought him into a grave depression.”

A cool panic washed over Wendy. “What?”

“You heard me. When I met him he was contemplating killing himself over you.” The old woman clenched her fist as it rested on the table.

Sickened to the core at the very idea of any harm coming to Peter, Wendy was about to vomit. “Kill himself? What on earth are you talking about?”

“Two days ago I found him leaning over a ravine in Ramapo Park. He was crying and about to throw himself off.”

Wendy stared at her speechless.

“I grabbed him back from the very brink and brought him with me to my home where he told me about what you did to him. How dare you seduce an underage boy? What the hell is wrong with you?”

Wendy was certain she was going to throw up. “Oh, God.”

“He’s a child. How dare you have sexual relations with a child? It’s a crime.”

Wendy placed her coffee cup on the table. Her fear was beginning to turn to anger. “Look, lady, Peter is not a child. He has his shit together more than some forty year olds I know. Don’t you make me out to be some molester, whatever your name is.”

“Eddie, Edwina Campbell. And that’s exactly what you are. I should call the police.”

“Now wait a minute. I only wanted to paint him. You don’t even know the details. Yet you can sit there and judge me?”

“Look at the boy. Look at the state he’s in.”

Wendy shut up, straining to think straight. She tried to remember the kiss that morning. Did Peter seem depressed?

Edwina said, “I need to consult his parents. This is very serious.”

Wendy reached for her across the table. “No. Please don’t.”

Edwina glared at her. “No, you wouldn’t want them to know, would you? I hope you can see the repercussions of your actions, young lady. It sickens me to think a woman of your age—”

Not able to bear it a moment longer, Wendy rose up and turned away.

Wendy left the cafeteria and Edwina refused to stop the accusations, badgering her as she trailed her. Through Edwina’s accusations, Wendy heard her name being called.

“Wendy! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“Keith? What is it?” The expression on Keith’s face scared Wendy.

“Have you seen Peter? He wasn’t in school all day and he never showed up back home.” Keith combed his long hair away from his face with his fingers nervously.

“No!” Edwina cried out in fear.

Wendy forced herself to concentrate. “I saw him about ten or eleven this morning in New York.”

“New York?” Keith replied. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“He was in the diamond district. I tried to get him to come to lunch, but he ran off.”

“Fuck, fuck.” Keith dragged his hand though his long hair again, trembling in fear. “He’s not back. He never called.” Keith checked his watch. “Wendy, it was after eight.”

Edwina made another noise in despair.

Keith snarled, “Who the hell are you? Get lost.”

Wendy quieted him. “She knows Peter. She’s worried about him too.”

“What now? What the fuck now?” Keith threw up his hands.

“I don’t know, Keith. But we have to at least look for him.” Wendy felt icy cold and clammy. She looked at Edwina and found tears in the woman’s eyes. No. Peter did not kill himself. No!

Richard and Louise paced in the living room, staring at the clock.

“You’ve got no control over the boys, Louise. And that damn school! Didn’t they even try to reach you? Where on earth could he be? This is so unlike him.” Richard rubbed his hands together nervously.

“Stop it! Stop it! He’s all right. He’s all right.” Louise was in tears.

When they heard something at the front door, Richard flew across the room and jerked it open.

Peter was there. With his hand on the frame, Peter slid down to the cement porch, leaving a bloody smear along the white paint.

“Peter!” Richard tried to keep Peter on his feet and noticed a blood trail had run down Peter’s jeans. “Louise! Call an ambulance!”

Louise panicked and ran to the phone. Jackie came rushing down the stairs and started to cry when she found her father crouched over a very pale Peter.

“Hang in there, Pete, you’re all right.” Richard tried to locate Peter’s injury. As gently as he could, he peeled Peter’s soaked shirt back and found the seeping gash. “Oh, Christ.” Richard pressed his hand over the gaping slice. “Jackie, get a towel.”

Jackie sprinted off.

Peter slurred, “Tell Eddie they didn’t get it.” Unclenching his blood-caked fingers, Peter handed his father his house keys.

Richard could hardly make out the words Peter said. He tried to quiet Peter. “Lay still.”

Louise hurried back over to Peter with kitchen towels. Richard pressed them against Peter’s ribs and tried to stop the bleeding. Jackie dropped the roll of paper towels she had in her hand, went snow white and swayed.

“Jackie, go sit down with your head between your knees.” Richard shook his head. “Louise, she’s passing out.”

Louise grabbed Jackie and took her aside to tend.

The wail of an ambulance was audible in the distance.

Louise couldn’t stop crying. Once she settled Jackie down Louise returned to Peter. “It’s okay, baby…you’ll be okay.”

Richard had a difficult time not sobbing over Peter’s pale body as well.

The medics flew out of the truck with a stretcher and their equipment.

“Jacqueline, you stay behind and let Keith know if he calls.” Richard escorted Louise to the ambulance as Jackie burst into fresh wails. “Okay, sweetheart?”

“Yes, Daddie.” She nodded, wiping at her eyes roughly.

Peter was placed on a gurney and loaded into the ambulance. Richard and Louise rode with Peter in the back. As the medics worked on stabilizing Peter, Richard swallowed the hard knot in his throat. Hang in there, baby. Hang in there.

The caravan of three vehicles was redirected after Jacqueline informed Wendy, Keith, and Edwina that Peter was on his way to Valley Hospital.

Wendy could hardly keep Keith’s Mustang in sight he was driving so fast.

They reunited at the front desk in the emergency room where they were told Peter was in surgery.

Wendy led the way to the waiting room.

“Richard?” Wendy couldn’t imagine why Richard was there.

Keith glanced at Wendy suspiciously.

“Wendy? What on earth are you doing here?” Richard stopped his pacing and confronted her.

Edwina collapsed on a chair next to a strange woman who was crying. Edwina dabbed her eyes with a tissue and her hands trembled.

“I came to see if Peter was all right.” Wendy couldn’t even begin to understand the connections through the muddle in her mind.

“How do you know Peter?” Richard asked.

Keith shoved Wendy roughly. “How do you know my dad?”

“Your dad?” Wendy coughed and stared at Richard in horror.

“You know Keith too?” Richard pointed at Keith.

“She more than knows me.” Keith snorted sarcastically.

Before anything more was leaked out, Wendy grabbed Keith’s arm and jerked him aside quickly. “Shut your mouth. You tell your father or brother about us and they’ll find out about your homosexual escapade with Bret and Steve. Got it?”

Keith turned pure white.

Wendy faced Richard. “Uh…yes, Richard, I know Keith from the community college. We met after Peter modeled for one of my art classes.”

The strange woman glared at Richard in irritation. Wendy suddenly realized that lady had to be Peter’s mother. Wendy had no idea what Richard’s ex-wife was thinking, and could care less.

Richard appeared about to combust. The veins in his temples were throbbing visibly. “Keith, get over here.” Richard pointed to the spot in front of him menacingly.

At an attempt at damage control, Wendy blocked Keith’s path. “What happened to Peter?” she asked Richard.

After giving Keith and then Wendy a furious snarling glare Richard said, “He’s been stabbed.” Richard gestured to the seated woman. “Louise is my ex-wife. We don’t know anything more. I have no idea where Peter was or how he made it home in that condition.”

“He was in New York early this morning,” Wendy said.

“I thought I saw him.” Richard’s expression changed suddenly as if he remembered something disturbing.

Wendy had no idea what Richard knew. Again trying to distract Richard’s train of thought, Wendy asked Edwina, “Are you okay?”

“Who are you?” Louise stared at Edwina.

“A friend of Peter’s. Edwina Campbell,” she replied weakly.

“What the hell happened to him, Dad?” Keith’s arms were crossed over his leather jacket and he kept his distance from Richard.

“I don’t know.” Richard dropped down into a chair.

Wendy felt so sick to her stomach at having had relations with a father and two sons she was about to die.

The conversation dried up as each of them slumped in plastic seats in the waiting room, and waited.

After an hour, a doctor appeared. The group surrounded the doctor as he approach. “He’s going to be fine. The injury didn’t cut any of Peter’s internal organs, just the muscle of his external oblique. We also found Peter had some ribs broken recently, but it doesn’t appear to be from the same incident. The x-rays show the fractured ribs had healed over and were possibly re-injured in this attack. He’s in recovery now until the anesthesia wears off.”

“I want to see him,” Keith said, puffing up assertively.

“Give me a minute until we get him set up and we’ll allow you a short visit with him,” the doctor said.

“That boy is made of tough stuff,” Edwina murmured.

“I know, Edwina, but how did he make it home?” Wendy whispered.

“Edwina? Are you Eddie?” Richard perked up.

“Yes, I go by Eddie.”

“You’re Eddie?” Richard repeated, pointing at her.

“Yes, I’m Eddie,” she assured him.

Wendy studied Richard, as if he could somehow unravel all this mystery.

“Peter wanted me to tell you they didn’t get it. Then he handed me his keys,” Richard said.

“What? What on earth could he mean?” Edwina touched her lip.

As they tried to figure out the riddle, Wendy noticed the doctor walk away.

Once again doing battle, Peter fought to open his eyes in the grips of the anesthesia. Vaguely he could hear his father calling his name. “Where am I?”

His parents were seated on opposite sides of his bed. With tears running down her cheeks, Louise held Peter’s hand. “In Valley Hospital, dear,” she whispered.

“Why?”

Louise petted Peter’s hair back from his face.

Richard moved closer to him. “You were hurt somehow in New York, but you made it home. Do you remember what happened?”

Peter struggled with his dull mind.

Louise stopped the inquiry immediately. “It’s all right. Get some rest, sweetie. We’ll come back after some of your friends see you.” She kissed Peter’s face.

“Who’s here?” Peter felt a slight headache beginning to throb in his temples. Two shadowy figures entered his dim room.

Wendy cupped Peter’s hand and kissed it affectionately.

Peter said groggily, “Wendy, I love you.”

She whispered, “I love you too, Peter. Get better soon.”

“Hello, Peter.”

Hearing Edwina’s voice, Peter cringed as he remembered. “They didn’t get it, Eddie.”

Edwina leaned closer to hear him. “Didn’t get what, Peter?”

“Your pin. I held onto it.”

“You’re worried about that old pin? Peter, don’t be silly.”

“No. It’s very valuable.” His lips felt numb and dry.

“Yes, dear.”

“Seymour said it’s worth…uh, lots of thousands.” Peter tried to sit up, wincing as his stitches pulled.

“Shh. Okay, dear.” Edwina patted Peter’s arm.

“But I thought you’d be happier.” His lids felt heavy. “I fought them for you.”

Edwina inhaled sharply. “Oh, dear God!”

Wendy caressed Peter’s hair. “I’ll see you soon, Peter. You rest and get well.” She kissed his forehead.

Keith waited in the hall as the two women exited passed him. He entered Peter’s room and found Peter asleep. Keith sat next to Peter on the bed and gripped his hand, placing it against his cheek and closing his eyes. “I’m so glad you are going to be okay.” At first Keith choked up, then he controlled his emotions quickly. He stared at Peter’s peaceful expression, playing with Peter’s limp fingers.

Keith checked the door behind him, then leaned over Peter and kissed him as tenderly as he could on the lips. He brushed Peter’s hair back from his forehead and whispered, “I love you, baby brother.”

Richard felt drained as he tried to piece together all the unexplained details of Peter’s ordeal.

When Edwina appeared to be going into a panic attack, Wendy and Louise tried to calm her down. Wendy coaxed Edwina to sit in a plastic chair as Louise asked a nurse for a cup of water.

Once Edwina took a few sips and inhaled a deep breath to get under control she said, “He got stabbed over that silly pin. Oh, good heavens. I almost got him killed. This is all my fault.”

“Eddie, don’t be ridiculous. You can’t blame yourself.” Wendy patted her shoulder.

Richard said, “Look, Peter is stable and recovering. Why don’t we all go home and get some rest?”

“Let me check first with the nurse’s station to see how early I can come by in the morning.” Louise walked away.

As the women continued to discuss what caused Peter’s injury, Richard poked his head into Peter’s room. Keith was fawning over Peter as he slept. “Let’s go, Keith,” Richard said.

At his father’s voice, Keith jumped up to his feet and met him at the door. “Dad, do you have any idea what happened?”

“I’m starting to figure it out, but we’ll wait for Peter to fill in the blanks.” Richard put his arm around Keith’s shoulder and tried not to be too sarcastic as he asked, “So, you and Wendy are classmates? Now, isn’t that interesting?”

Peter spent a few hours in the recovery room until his cot was wheeled to one of the regular hospital rooms. Another patient was already asleep in it. In the dimness Peter could see a young man with a cast on his leg which was suspended from a ceiling strap.

A nurse came in to check on Peter every hour to take his temperature and blood pressure. At one point Peter tossed and turned violently, on the verge of sleep, and woke covered in sweat. He tried to recognize the strange surroundings and not fret. A piercing pain seared though his side as he sat up. Peter cried out in fear and a nurse hurried into the room and drew the curtain around them before she turned on a light.

“Okay. Calm down.” The nurse took his temperature and blood pressure once again, checking his intravenous tube. “I’ve given you more morphine. Let me know if it helps the pain.” She read the thermometer. “You’re running a slight fever but it’s normal right after surgery.” She tucked Peter under the covers, shut the light, and prepared to let him rest.

“No,” he called out to her.

She stopped in her tracks.

“Don’t leave me yet.” Peter couldn’t control the trembling in his body.

The nurse checked her watch and sat in the chair next to the bed. “Poor thing.” She dabbed at the sweat on his forehead with a towel.

“I’m cold,” he whispered through his chattering teeth.

She unfolding the blanket at his feet and raised it up over him. “There. Try and rest.”

“I dreamed of the knife. It burned when it went in. He wanted to kill me.”

“Hush. Okay. Get some sleep.” She pushed his hair back from his forehead.

“Stay with me. Please,” he begged.

The nurse checked her watch again and held Peter’s hand. “Okay, dear. I’ll sit with you until you fall asleep. Okay?”

“Thank you.” He sighed and closed his eyes, clasping her hand tightly.

Chapter Seventeen

A nurse opened the window curtain and the light filled the room. She smiled at Peter, stuck a thermometer in his mouth, and then took his blood pressure. “The doctor will be in soon to change your dressing.” She released the cuff on his arm and recorded his pressure, next was the thermometer. “Normal this morning. Good.” She jotted it down in his file.

The nurse folded down the blankets trying to preserve Peter’s modesty as she lifted up his gown, exposing the gauze.

Peter peered down at the bandage and asked, “How many stitches?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you ask the doctor when he comes in?” She set out supplies on a cart near the bed.

Peter could see the through a gap in the bed-curtain to the boy next to him who was staring.

“As soon as we change the dressing we’ll get your breakfast. Okay, Peter?” She left the room.

“Appendicitis?” the boy in the next bed asked.

“No, I got stabbed.”

“Really?”

“Skiing accident?” Peter asked him.

“No, skateboard.” He laughed.

The doctor came in with the same nurse and drew the curtain shut between beds. He scooted over a stool and got busy removing the stained patch from Peter’s side. “How are you this morning?”

Peter shrugged, watching him.

The doctor peeled back the gauze gently and covered the stitches with a brown liquid. “You’re heeling nicely.”

The nurse loomed behind the doctor, handing the doctor fresh supplies as he redressed the wound.

“Your parents called the New York City Police last night. There’s a detective waiting outside to speak to you. Are you up for it?”

“I suppose. How many stitches did I get?” The line of black thread made Peter queasy.

“Around thirty. Your assailant did a good job.” The doctor applied fresh gauze to the wound, then lowered Peter’s hospital gown over it. “When did you get the chest injury, Peter? The x-ray showed two recently healed fractured ribs.”

“It was from playing football.”

“How long ago was that injury?”

Peter tried to think. “In November.”

“Did you see a doctor about it?”

“No.”

The doctor exchanged a quick unhappy glance with his nurse. “Peter, that injury must have caused extreme discomfort. Why didn’t you go to the hospital?”

Peter sealed his lips, denying him an answer.

“If a tip of that rib had snapped off, you could have punctured your lung. That also tells me you had been playing with the fracture, through the pain. Am I correct?”

Those accusing intelligent eyes bore through Peter as if they could read why he had ignored it. The truth was, Peter wanted to die. Why seek medical attention for something that had in any way the possibility of securing that desire?

“Peter, anyone who tolerated that kind of pain and did not tell someone, worries me.”

Peter boldly connected to the doctor’s steel-blue eyes. “Don’t worry about me.”

“I will discuss this with your parents, Peter.” The doctor stood up and gazed down at him. “About the detective. I’ll send him in, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” Peter unfocused his gaze and lost interest. He crunched the blankets under his chin just as a man in a business suit holding a badge, knocked on the door frame and poked his head in.

Peter attempted to sit up as the detective scooted a chair alongside of him and held a pad and pen. “I’m Detective Philip Martin from the New York Police Department. Your parents said you had some kind of incident last night that resulted in you getting stabbed. Can you tell me where, when it happened, and anything else you remember about it?”

Inhaling a deep breath for strength, Peter gave him everything he could recall now that his mind was clear. One of the gang members he remembered well, the description of the knife wielder.

The detective kept scribbling notes until Peter stopped talking, then Detective Martin stared at Peter for a long silent moment. Finally he said, “You see what cutting school can get you?”

“I know.” Peter turned away from the detective’s gaze.

“Why didn’t you call for help that night while you were still in the city? We’d have had a better chance at finding them. I hope you realize we have no chance now. Not to mention you could have bled to death. We have ambulances in the city, Mr. Barnes.”

“Who cares? I’m not the one who called you.”

Detective Martin shook his head. “Who cares? Your parents care. How about the next time you get stabbed, you call for help right away.”

On the tip of Peter’s tongue was the reply, ‘I don’t a shit!’ Instead, Peter shrugged weakly. It was obvious he was the only one who didn’t really care if he lived. His whole life was spiraling downhill, what was one more plunge into hell?

“Okay, kid. If we get any leads we’ll be calling you in for a line up.”

After the detective left, Peter turned his face into the pillows to hide his tears.

A nurse brought Peter his breakfast, setting a tray of toast, juice, milk and a box of cereal in front of him. He never touched it.

When she came back to pick up the tray she scolded Peter. “Why didn’t you eat anything? Is there something else you want?”

“No.” In disgust, Peter closed his eyes and twisted his face away. Peter heard her grunt of disapproval as she left.

His roommate was watching television next to him, the noise bothered Peter.

“Peter?”

Peter opened his eyes and found Erin standing next to his bed.

“We all heard what happen. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Does it hurt much?”

“Yes, it hurts.”

Erin sat in the same chair that held the detective. “Here, I brought you a book. It’s a mystery about a diamond.”

“Thanks.” Peter looked at the cover and set it on the table next to him.

“Oh, Peter.” She reached for his hand.

“I think they said I’ll be home tomorrow. They want to keep me one more day.”

“That’s not too bad. When will you be back at school?”

“After my stitches come out. A week, I guess.”

“Will you be able to go to Silver Lake? It’s the first weekend in May.”

“That’s still over a month away.”

“I know.” She looked away shyly.

“I’ll call you when I’m better.” Peter had no intention.

“Promise?”

Out of politeness, Peter nodded.

Erin pecked his cheek. “I’ve got to go. My mom’s waiting in the parking lot.”

“Thanks, Erin.” He squeezed her hand.

“Anytime, Peter.” She smiled and left.

Peter stared after her. The door she passed through was like a gaping hole leading to the horrible outside world.

Trapped, suicidal, the confining bars of the hospital bed were like a cage. The visit from Erin brought back all the grim realities of school to him. Peter didn’t want to go back and face it. He’d rather die.

“Hey, Pete.”

Reluctantly, Peter gazed over at his roommate.

“She sure was sweet. Was she your girlfriend?”

Peter’s eyes filled with water. “No,” he whispered and rolled over stiffly to bury his face in the pillows.

The nurse brought him lunch. He left it untouched.

When the same nurse came in for the tray she showed her disappointment again. “Please eat something, Peter.”

Peter stared at the wall.

The nurse picked up his tray. “Fine. I need to advise the doctor about this mini hunger strike of yours.” She left.

Fuck you. Who cares?

Peter could see right outside his door the nurse talking to his doctor. Oh crap. Peter heard his father’s deep voice as it appeared there was a group conference underway.

Peter could only hear a word or two, but knew what they were saying. When the doctor left them, Peter’s mother said something to his father about the quality of the hospital food.

“Shut up and let me handle it.” Richard elbowed Louise as they entered Peter’s room. Richard tried to be cheerful as Louise kissed Peter’s cheek but Richard began suspecting there was more to this fasting than a cut on Peter’s side.

Richard thought Peter looked very pale and depressed and he could tell Peter’s appearance frightened Louise.

“I brought these for you.” Richard placed a stack of jewelry books and magazines on Peter’s lap.

“Whatever. Put them over there.” Peter waved his hand dismissively. Louise removed the stack and set them aside.

Richard was surprised Peter showed little interest in them. Louise spied back at Richard and shook her head.

They pulled up a chair on either side of Peter’s bed as Peter stared through glazed eyes at nothing.

“Seymour called me about the pin you left with him.” Richard interlaced his fingers on his lap.

Peter connected to his father’s eyes instantly. “Left with him?”

“Yes.” Richard concentrated on every word Peter said. The problem had always been that there were too few words spoken by Peter to ever really know what was going on inside his head.

Peter turned an even whiter shade of pale. Richard did not like the look of him one bit. “Peter, what’s going on?”

“I left it with him?” Peter’s voice cracked.

“Yes.”

“What did I have in my hand?” Peter was shaking visibly.

“Your keys.”

Louise clasped Peter’s fingers.

“My keys?” Peter repeated, and must have pulled at the stitches because he winced in pain and held his hand over the cut. “I almost died for my keys?”

“Enough.” Louise caressed Peter’s hair. “This is upsetting him, Richard.”

“I’ve lost my mind…I’ve lost my mind,” Peter moaned.

“Give yourself a break, Petey,” Richard said, “It was a very frightening experience. It’s only natural not to think straight.”

Shaking off his mother’s hand, Peter covered his face and started to cry.

The sight was killing Richard and obviously Louise as well. She hugged Peter, rocking him gently and stroking his long hair back from his face.

At a loss for words at Peter’s behavior, Richard watched his son uncharacteristically sobbing. There was no doubt the experience was a scary one, but Richard knew Peter was tough and invulnerable. Peter had always been that way. Keith was the weak one of the two. Peter was always calm and unemotional. This was way out. Suddenly the words the doctor had said about him not eating came to Richard’s mind.

Trying to wait patiently as Peter got himself under control, Richard glanced at the intravenous tube that was still connected to Peter’s arm.

Louise released Peter gently and offered him a tissue.

Peter inhaled a few times to stop his crying as he dabbed his eyes, trembling in strong convulsive waves. Richard was trying not to freak out.

“Don’t think about it now,” Louise said. “It’s all too fresh still.” She rubbed Peter’s arm to comfort him.

Richard tapped Peter’s shoulder to make him look his way. “Why aren’t you eating? You want this thing in your arm all week?” He pointed to the tube.

Peter shrugged.

“You must eat, Peter, please. For me,” Louise said.

Peter met his father’s eyes. “Wendy came to see me last night, didn’t she?”

At the mere mention of that name from his youngest son, Richard bit his lip on his rage. “Yes.”

“With Edwina,” Louise said.

“Wendy and Edwina?” Peter looked from one set of eyes to the other.

“We don’t get any of the connections, Peter, other than what they’ve told us,” Richard said.

Peter narrowed his eyes at his father. “What have they told you?”

With Louise listening to every word, Richard tried to tread carefully. “Eddie told us you met at Ramapo and became friends.”

“That’s right.” Peter nodded, chewing his lip. “Is that all Eddie said about when we met?”

“Yes. Why?” Richard waited.

“Nothing.” Peter looked away.

“And Wendy said you model for her art class.” Richard watched Peter’s expression closely.

Peter tensed up. “She said I model for her? Is that all she told you?”

“Yes.” Richard wanted to hear more.

Peter’s mouth tightened to a thin line and he literally snarled.

“This is really too much.” Louise shook her head. “What is it about this woman that she knows all three of you?”

“What?” Peter whipped his head to face his mother. “Who, all three?”

At Peter’s unusual reaction, Louise became mute.

“Who-all-three?” Peter demanded. “I was with her when she met Keith at the college. He wanted to fuck her, but he was out of luck. Who’s the third?”

Oh God, no. Richard gulped hard down a closing throat, staring at Peter. He needed to strangle Wendy for this one. “Your mother was mistaken. She meant Edwina, that’s all.”

“Eddie?” Peter appeared confused.

“Well.” Richard stood. “Anything you need us to get you?”

Peter shook his head.

“Your mother will pick you up in the morning. Eat, will ya? Or they won’t release you from this place.”

“Sure. Whatever.” Peter’s gaze drifted off into the room.

Louise kissed him and then followed Richard out into the hall. Richard was smoldering. Louise kept asking Richard to wait up as he stormed to the exit.

“What on earth is all this about Wendy and Peter?”

Richard was so angry he couldn’t answer. One thing was certain, he was going to get to the bottom of it.

Richard hammered violently on the door. When it opened, he shoved passed Steve and the barking dogs.

“Where’s Wendy?” Richard was blind with rage. Not waiting for Steve’s answer, Richard stormed in and out of a few rooms searching for her.

“Not home. Is there a problem?”

Breathing fire, Richard faced Steve and poked his finger into Steve’s chest. “The problem is I’m going to kill her. What the hell does she think she’s doing to my sons?”

“Whoa! Easy there.” Steve grabbed Richard’s accusing finger and lowered it. “Let’s relax with a nice drink before we throw around accusations.” Steve held Richard’s hand and dragged him into the den, nudging him to sit down. Steve opened a bottle of Scotch and poured two glasses. “Relax. Take off your coat.” Steve gestured.

Richard tore his coat off and threw it on a chair, then sat back heavily. In complete irritation, he shoved the dogs away as they tried to sniff him.

“Come on, boys, outside.” Steve called the dogs out of the room. When Steve returned he sat across from Richard and stared at him.

“Well?” Richard threw up his hands in exasperation.

“To be honest, Richard, I don’t keep tabs on Wendy’s sexual activities. She does her thing I do mine. All I can say is that they have both been here. I never witnessed anything first hand.”

“They’ve both been here? Well, that attests to it, doesn’t it?”

“No. Peter was here to pose for a painting. And just because Keith was hot for her, doesn’t mean he got anywhere with her.”

Richard’s rage deescalated slightly. He took a sip of the Scotch. “I never thought she would do this to me.” He swallowed the strong alcohol bitterly. “Look, we don’t know each other very long. And it isn’t like we’re exclusive, but…” He slammed his glass down. “She’s had both my sons? How the hell am I supposed to deal with that?” He checked his watch. “When is she expected?”

“Any minute now.” Steve stood and walked over to him. “Richard, you’re jumping to conclusions. Give her a chance to explain it all to you. She would never do anything to intentionally harm anyone. She doesn’t have a malicious bone in her body. Surely you can see—”

At a noise, Richard spun around to the sound of someone coming in the front door. Instantly he rose to his feet, shoving Steve aside.

“Hello?” Wendy called out as she came in with an arm load of shopping bags.

Richard stormed towards her.

She placed her packages at her feet. “Hello, Richard. How’s Peter?”

Finding irony in every turn, Richard snorted and gave a dry laugh. “Didn’t you go see your little lover today yourself?”

“What?” She turned pale. “What did he tell you?”

“Everything!” Richard growled, trying to bluff her.

Steve waved to her frantically, shaking his head. It only made Richard more convinced she had done something to Peter.

“Richard, let me explain.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to hear your detailed account of how you seduced my two sons.”

“Two? What did Keith say?” Wendy asked in fear.

“They were both eager to elaborate on their sexual exploits.” Richard began backing Wendy into a corner.

Miming every sign in the book, Steve shook his head frantically and tried to communicate to her not to admit anything.

Richard confronted Steve. “Do you think I’m an idiot?”

Steve dropped his arms to his sides and gave Richard a sheepish grin. “No?”

“I’ve had enough games.” Richard grabbed Wendy’s elbow and escorted her into the den, sitting her down. “You little slut,” he spat. “How dare you have sexual relations with a minor? And Keith? He’s barely legal. What the hell are you? I can’t even conceive of what you’ve done. And to top it off, to have me?”  It took everything Richard possessed to not strike her.

Wendy sat back and sighed. “You’re right, Richard. With Peter it was unforgivable. I know it was a big mistake. Oh, well. Too late now. But, Keith.” She rolled her eyes and hissed a breath of air through her teeth. “Well, he did the seducing, but I wanted him all right. Little sex nymph.” She bit her lip and peeked at Richard.

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing.” Richard was about to explode.

“I had no idea you were their father. Are you kidding me, Richard? No fucking idea. God, I need a cigarette!” She rubbed her face in anxiety. “What now? What now?”

With Richard’s anger management classes about to go out of the window, he stood over her, his body tense as a panther’s, and his fists clenched. He despised her. “For starters, you are to keep away from my sons.”

Wendy agreed. “It will be easy with Keith. But we may have a problem with Peter.” She snuck a look at him as if she dreaded more fury.

“You had better tell me everything I need to know.” Richard glared at her.

Wendy glanced up at his eyes, then away quickly. “Peter mentioned our brief encounter to Eddie, and she thinks he’s unreasonably hung up on me.”

“And?” Richard had no patience for this.

Wendy bit her lip again and her eyes filled with water, like she was struggling to spit it out.

“Damn you!” Richard grabbed her shoulders and brought her up to her feet to face him. “Are you the cause of his depression? He won’t eat. Do you hear me? He refuses to eat. He’s not like other boys, Wendy. Peter takes everything very seriously. He thinks you love him.”

“I do love him.” She wiped at her eyes.

“Is that right? How? Like a mother loves her son? A sister loves her brother? Or a lover? What kind of love do you have for him to make him so wretched?”

“Christ!” Wendy sobbed. “He’s beautiful, charming, loving, and more sensitive than you and Keith put together. You’re damn right I love him. You think I wouldn’t take him in a minute if he were older?”

“I have no doubt you’d ‘take him’ constantly regardless of the consequences. It amazes me his innocence isn’t ‘taken’ daily from the likes of women like you.”

Wendy flinched. “Don’t be so cruel, Richard. I admit to my mistakes. I’m a very physical person. I enjoy handsome men like you enjoy pretty women. We’re no different. Believe me, if you met my daughter you’d ‘take’ her, given a chance. You’re no goddamn saint. Are you trying to say if two beautiful women seduced you, you’d refuse? Liar. It’s just unacceptable because I’m a woman.”

“No! It’s unacceptable because they are my sons,” he roared and clenched his fists tighter, coming closer to a violent solution.

“Can’t stand the idea of competing with them? Afraid you’ll lose?”

“You’re pushing me to the very limit.” Richard craved causing Wendy great pain and grabbed her wrists. “You can’t justify this insanity, Wendy. You fucked little boys!”

Wincing at the arm wrenching, she choked at the absurdity. “Little? Have you looked at your ‘little’ boys lately, Mr. Barnes? Keith’s walking sex. He’d ball anything, male or female.”

Never in his life had Richard been so tried of patience. It was hell not to not lash out violently. He hissed, “It’s time you shut up. I’ve had enough of you accusing them. Blaming them. They’ve no idea the impact their looks have on women…or men.” He growled. “They don’t intentionally seduce. They walk into a room and women want them. Believe me, I know.”

“Don’t intentionally seduce?” Wendy laughed hysterically. “Do you know how many times Keith followed me into my room and took off his clothing? That’s not seduction? And Peter? I wanted to paint him. He pleaded with me to have sex with him. He practically tore my clothing off to get it. Give me a break, Richard. You’ve been having delusions if you think your boys don’t crave sex. Ow! Fuck, you’re hurting me!”

“Enough! I said enough!” Richard forced himself to release her. He turned away and covered his face. After inhaling a few deep breaths, he straightened his back and confronted her once more. “I’ve been chased by women like you all my life. To hell with you.”

Wendy rubbed her sore wrists and tried to catch her breath. “You bastard! You made all the advances. Here we go again. It was me, was it? At least when I love it’s honestly. I make no pretenses about it. I don’t screw and run. I’ll fix this thing with Peter.”
“Really?” Richard approached menacingly again. “And how will you fix it when he finds out his beloved has been sleeping with his father and his brother? You think he’s depressed now, wait. He’ll be suicidal!”

When that magic word was spoken, Wendy cowered and covered her ears in reflex.

Richard realized what he’d just said and it scared the hell out of him. The wind gone from his sails, he dropped down on the couch and felt completely drained. “Oh, God, Wendy. He is suicidal. He stopped eating.”

Wendy knelt on the floor in front of Richard, leaning over his lap. “You see how important it is for him to not find out. Talk to Keith, tell him he mustn’t tell Peter.”

Richard stared at nothing, his eyes watering. “What have we done? He won’t eat, Wendy, he won’t eat.” Richard scrubbed his eyes. “Peter was the good one. The one who never caused us any problems. The straight ‘A’ student, the quarterback.”

“Richard, just support him. He loves your work, get him involved in it.”

“I know, but he still has a year to go in high-school. I can’t pull him out now.”

Wendy crawled higher on his lap. “You sure? Under the circumstances?”

“Maybe I can take him with me to work a bit this summer. We’ll see.”

“Richard.”

With his emotions twisting his stomach in knots, Richard looked down at her.

“I beg your forgiveness. I would do anything to erase it now and not hurt Peter. Please, say you forgive me.”

He gazed into her watery blue eyes while his insides felt torn apart. Richard remembered someone who had forgiven him once for a grave mistake. And he’d made several.

When he didn’t respond right away Wendy started to slink back from him.

Richard grabbed her and pulled her back up to his lap abruptly. “Yes, you have made a great error in judgment. We still don’t know the extent of the damage. Promise me you won’t fall prey to their beauty, no matter the form of seduction.”

“I promise.”

He wrapped his arms around her. “You don’t realize it, but you are the seductress.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be.”

Richard felt his fury subsiding into deep regret. “We’ll work this out. Somehow, we’ll get through this.”

Peter was zoning out, deep in thought as he stared at the wall.

“Hello, Peter. How are you feeling?” Edwina poked her head into Peter’s room and smiled at him. Peter brightened up slightly at her visit. She sat down and gave him a small gift of chocolates.

“I’m okay. I want to go home.”

“You will. Soon.”

Peter noticed Edwina look at the tube that was still connected to his arm. “I have to tell you about her pin and its value. You know the center stone is a demantoid garnet and the satellite stones are real diamonds?”

“That ugly old pin has real stones in it?”

“Yup.”

“Peter, dear, no matter what monetary value is placed on an item it can never be as priceless as a human life. You should have just handed them anything they asked for.”

Peter rolled his eyes tiredly and placed the chocolates on a side table. “The last thing I need is another lecture.”

“Do you see now how everyone cares for you? How they would miss you if you were gone?”

“Not everyone.”

“Now, Peter.”

“Wendy hasn’t called me or stopped by today.” Peter peeked quickly at the boy who was in the next bed.

Edwina reached for Peter’s hand. “So, when do we get the results of the appraisal?”

Peter knew she was trying to distract him. Suddenly that was everyone’s new role. Do they think I’m an idiot? Go away!

Chapter Eighteen

The next morning Louise came pick Peter up. While he changed into the clothing she had brought him, she said, “I don’t like how thin you look. I can’t wait to get you home to feed you properly.”

Peter said good-bye to the boy in the next bed as an orderly brought Peter a wheelchair to ride in. Peter was taken to the front entrance of the hospital, nervous of reality, yet glad he was finally out of the confinement of what he considered a jail.

He climbed out of the wheelchair and into his mother’s Volvo.

Louise spoke nonsense. Peter barely listened while she went on about having Peter’s cousins out for a visit when he was feeling up to it.

Peter felt shaky and weak as he sat with his mother watching television. He’d eaten a little, enough to satisfy his mom.

When Jackie arrived home from school, she hugged Peter tightly.

Since lunch, Peter was preoccupied the rest of the day, staring at the phone.

Towards late afternoon, Peter, his sister, and his mother, watched TV in the den. Peter heard someone at the front door and a minute later his father poked his head into the room. “How are you feeling, Peter?”

“Okay.”

Richard sat next to Peter on the sofa. “How would you like to come with me on my next business trip?”

“I can’t. I’ll be missing too much school.”

“I was thinking about enrolling you into gem school. We could start your training now. Maybe waiting a year is a waste of time.”

“What?” Louise gasped. “Take him out of high-school? He needs a diploma, Richard.”

Richard glared at Louise. “He’s ready now. I can get him a great job when he’s through. What do you say, Pete?”

Peter opened his mouth to reply.

“Richard! I don’t believe you. Let Peter finish high-school. He needs to go through the normal procedures like all his friends. He’ll be out soon enough. Besides, I’m not eager to have him commuting into Manhattan.”

Peter’s parents’ argument escalated like rushing volcanic magma. Peter and Jackie exchanged looks with each other, cringing at the growing volume.

Wearing just his robe and pajamas, Peter stood up slowly, bracing his stitches, and left the room. Even though he was walking away, he heard every angry word his parents said.

“Goddamn it, Richard. Can’t you see he wants to get back to a normal routine?”

“Jacqueline, leave your mother and I alone, will you?”

“Leave her alone, Richard,” Louise replied.

“Jackie. Please go,” Richard said.

Even though Peter closed his bedroom door, he couldn’t shut out the shouting. He remembered their bouts whenever his dad came back from one of his trips. Richard wouldn’t be home a minute before it would all blow.

Peter picked up a bottle of Percodan, tapped one into his hand, stuck it on his tongue, and swallowed it with some water. With the old pain killer wearing off, Peter lay back in increasing discomfort. His cut ached and itched and his head pounded. No matter how he positioned himself, he couldn’t get comfortable. The mattress felt like a bed of rocks.

Frustrated and bored, Peter climbed out of bed to his desk for a pad and pencil, then leaned back on the pillows and tucked the blankets around him.

With Wendy’s image in his mind, Peter tried his best to draw her face, erasing the lines until it looked close. One sketch resembled her. Peter used wild pencil strokes to draw her hair, then raised the pad to inspect it. He began to feel the drug in his veins. It had a bizarre effect. It made everything seem all right. The pain subsided, his headache forgotten, Peter smiled a silly grin at the picture and laughed at it.

He glanced at the phone on his nightstand, picked it up and placed it on his lap.

Keith pounded the door impatiently. The dogs barked, loudly announcing the intruder.

Appearing rushed, Steve opened the door and let him in.

“Where’s Wendy?” Keith scanned around.

“Instant replay.” Steve shook his head.

“What?” Keith asked.

“Nothing. She’s taking a shower. I’ll let her know you’re here.” Steve made a move to the stairs.

“No! I’ll go.” Keith pushed Steve aside.

“Oh, no you won’t.” Steve held him back. “You wait there.” He pointed to the den.

“Like hell I will.” Keith swatted Steve’s hand away.

Steve grabbed Keith roughly and tugged him down the few stairs he’d managed to climb.

“Hands off, bro!” Keith batted Steve away.

Steve advanced on him angrily, then held his temper. “You listen to me, punk. You’ve caused enough trouble. Why don’t you leave Wendy alone?”

“Me? What the hell did I do? And since when is it your business who she sees?” Keith stood his ground.

“She’s been through enough with your family. Don’t you think it’s about time she had a break from the Barnes’?”

“My father was here.” Keith sighed.

“Yes. And he put her through hell all because of you and your brother. If you ask me, she didn’t deserve it.” Steve folded his arms across his chest.

Keith leaned back against the wall. “Christ, I could imagine.”

“No, you couldn’t. She was in tears for an hour.”

“I wish he’d fuck off.” Keith growled.

“You and me, both.”

“Well, I won’t yell at her. I just want to talk to her.” Keith tried to slip by him up the stairs.

Steve grabbed his jacket. “In there.” He pointed to the den.

“Shit, man! Come on!” Keith groaned. “Look, I’ll make you a deal.”

“What kind of deal?”

“You like movies? I’ll get you some.”

“I have enough movies.”

“Well, name something. Grass? Speed? Acid?”

Steve studied Keith’s face. “How badly do you want to see her?”

“Look! She’s in the fricken’ shower! She’ll be out soon. What will it take?”

Steve eyed Keith’s body. “If you’re that desperate, I’ll let you go up there. But you owe me one. And I will collect.”

“Sure. Anything. Can I go?”

Steve smiled wickedly and stepped out of the way. Keith flew up the stairs like the house was on fire.

Through Wendy’s bedroom door Keith heard the water running in the shower. He stripped off his clothing and crept into the bathroom. The steam swirled around him as he watch Wendy’s silhouette through the clear shower curtain. She was rinsing the soap out of her eyes. Holding his breath, Keith stepped in behind her and stood still, waiting.

Still oblivious to his presence, Wendy massaged conditioner into her hair and rinsed her hands under the rushing current.

Keith covered Wendy’s mouth with one hand and wrapped his other arm around her waist, pulling her against his body.

She shouted out in surprise, spinning quickly.

Keith couldn’t keep a hold of her from the slippery soap on her skin. In the chaos of the crashing water, Wendy gasped as Keith started kissing her and pushing her to the bottom of the tub.

Wendy turned her face away to try and stop him. “Keith, I can’t. I promised your father.”

Not interested in his father’s opinion, Keith urged Wendy roughly to the bottom of the tub, holding her down, the water pounding his back. “Let him fuck someone else.” Keith licked the water off her neck.

“Keith!” Wendy struggled to move him off.

Keith knew he weighed almost twice what Wendy did and was solid muscle. With determination, Keith thrust his cock into her and came instantly in a blazing rush, his moans echoing on the tile walls.

Wendy punched at Keith’s back, furious as she cursed him. “You didn’t even use a damn rubber, you idiot!” She wrenched Keith’s shoulders back uselessly.

Keith recuperated, resting his entire body weight on Wendy and tried for a kiss. “You know you love it,” he teased. “Don’t worry about Dad. What do you want an old fart for? I’m surprised he can get it up.”

“Keith! Get off me!” With as all her strength, Wendy pushed at Keith to get free.

Keith took his time and leaned up on his arms, pulling out of her.

As if she were a rabbit sprung from a trap, Wendy stood, washed herself, then stepped out and grabbed a towel, shaking violently.

“What the hell?” Keith was bewildered by her reaction. He rinsed off and shut the water, drawing back the curtain to see her face.

To Keith’s astonishment Wendy was glaring at him.

“I want you to get out now.” She tried to speak calmly but Keith could see her teeth were clenched.

“You know you don’t mean that.” Keith grabbed a towel and rubbed it through his hair. “You little tease, you love it.”

“Keith, don’t make a scene. Just leave and never come back again.” Wendy wrapped the towel tightly around her.

“What?” Keith threw his towel down and approached her angrily. “What the fuck is this for? I didn’t do anything to you.”

“You heard me!”

“Oh, I get it. Now that you got my old man’s prick it’s goodbye Keith? Is that it?” He loomed closer. “You think you can treat me this way and it’s okay?”

Wendy called loudly, “Lancelot! Come!”

Keith jumped at the volume and wondered what she was doing. A second later the German Shepherd was at her side.

“Shit.” Keith slipped on his jeans cautiously.

“Lance, this is not a friend,” she said. The dog showed his sharp canine teeth and let out a low grumble.

As slowly as humanly possible, Keith retrieved his clothing from the floor and held it in his arms. “Wendy, I was only kidding. You know how crazy I am about you, babe.”

“Should Lance show you the door or will you find your way out?” The dog’s growling increased.

“I’m leaving.” Keith backed out, watching the dog as he went.

The moment he left, Wendy slammed the bedroom door shut.

Half dressed, Keith headed down the stairs carrying his things. He sat on a step to put his socks and shoes on, then stood up to button his shirt and pants.

Steve said, “You met Lance, huh?”

“Shit! That dog’s big.” Keith laughed nervously.

“And mean, when he wants to be.”

“I’m sure.” Keith pushed back his wet hair from his eyes and reached for his jacket.

“Did you have a nice shower?”

Keith grinned wickedly. “Yes, as a matter of fact.”

“Then you do owe me one.”

“That’s the deal.” Keith put on his leather jacket.

“Good. I’ll pick you up Friday night.”

“Okay, for what?”

“A party. Interested?” Steve grinned.

“Sure.” Keith shrugged.

“Eight p.m. Don’t forget.”

“Okay.” Keith smiled and left.

Wendy sat on her bed and held Lancelot as he stood with his front paws on her lap, panting. The phone rang and it startled her. When she reached for it the dog curled up on the floor at her feet.

“I’ve got it, Steve, thanks. Hello?”

“Wendy. It’s me.”

“Peter?” Her heart skipped a beat.

“Yeah. You mind I called you?”

“No, of course not. How are you feeling?”

“Fine now. I took a Percodan.”

“Oh. When are the stitches coming out?”

“Next Wednesday. Will you come see me? I miss you.”

“If I can, Peter.” Wendy dragged her fingernails through her wet hair. The last thing on her mind was visiting Peter.

“Please? I’m sorry I messed things up. I won’t touch you again. Can I model for you so you can finish your painting?”

“We’ll see. First we need to get you well.” She was hoping Peter couldn’t tell her state of mind. She didn’t want him to know how upset she was at the moment.

“I’ll get well, if you come see me.”

“I’ll try, love.” She trembled and tried to stop the spasms.

“Am I your love?”

Regretting not thinking first before she spoke, Wendy battled her emotions as another thought occurred to her. “Of course you are, Peter. Uh, Peter?”

“Hmmm?”

“Are the pills right there by your bed?”

“Yes.”

“Why don’t you give them to your mother to hold on to?”

“Why?” His tone changed drastically.

“Well, those pills are very strong and we don’t want you to take too many.”

“I won’t take too many. What do you mean?”

Peter’s defensiveness was overt and Wendy tried to tread lightly. “I don’t mean anything by it, babe. I just think we sometimes lose track of things, especially when we’re on drugs that powerful. You might forget and take one again too soon.” She tried to make this sound reasonable.

“What did Eddie tell you?”

“What?” Wendy didn’t think he’d figure it out that fast. “Nothing.”

“Then why are you so concerned about these pills?”

“I’m not, Peter. I’m concerned about you, that’s all.”

“I won’t O.D. Don’t worry!”

Wendy could tell he was furious. “Peter.”

“Forget it! I’m sorry I bothered you.”

“Peter! Wait!” The phone went dead. She slammed it down, threw on some clothing, grabbed her keys and then thought about Keith, and Richard. Wendy hunted through her purse for Peter’s phone number and called back. She was surprised when Richard answered.

“Richard, this is Wendy. Peter just called and told me he’s taken a painkiller. You didn’t leave him with the whole damn bottle, did you?” Wendy was frantic as she heard Richard cup the phone and shout angrily.

“It’s okay, Louise is going to check it out.”

Still shivering, Wendy wanted to tell Richard about Keith, but the promise she made to Richard about staying away from his sons made her hesitate. Would he believe her? Probably not. “Oh, Richard, what a goddamn mess.”

“I’m taking Peter out of high-school. He’ll live with me in the city and go to gem school. I can keep an eye on him better from there.”

“But you travel all the time. You’re never there.”

There was silence at the other end then, “He’ll be better off anyway.”

“He’ll be alone. Does he know you’re doing this?”

“Not yet. I’ve just finished convincing Louise. It has to be this way. He can’t continue like he is.”

“Richard. No. What about his school friends, his childhood?”

“You’ve brought it to an abrupt end,” he replied bitterly. “Besides, Peter has no friends, he’s a loner.”

“It’s all my fault. Should I talk to him? Would that help? What should I do?”

“Give it a few days.”

“But he just called me and accused me of not visiting him.”

Richard sighed. “Then come, I don’t know.”

“Okay, I’ll let it go.”

“Come out to dinner with me tomorrow night. We can talk more.”

“Sure, Richard.” Wendy hung up and lay across her bed tiredly. A light rap caught her attention. “What?” she called out.

Steve pushed the door open and the other two dogs came in with him. “Just making sure you’re all right.” He turned to leave.

“Wait.”

Pausing, Steve spun back to her, his hand on the door knob.

“I think I’m in big trouble.”

“Why’s that?” Steve stepped into the room.

“I can’t find a way out of this mess.” Wendy picked the Yorkie up and set him on the bed beside her. “I need a cigarette.”

“Are they where you usually hide them?” Steve dug through her dresser drawer and found an old pack. He tossed it to her and Wendy opened it, pulling one out, and sticking it in her mouth. Steve lit a match and Wendy leaned over to puff it lit.

“Keith will be out of your way by this weekend.”

“How?” She blew out the smoke.

“I’m taking him to one of Terry’s parties.” Steve grinned demonically.

“Oh no, Steve, you mustn’t!” Wendy held back a full blown roar of hilarity.

“Yup, I am.” He smiled. “They’ll eat him alive.”

“I know. You fiend.” She coughed, then stood and tossed the cigarette into the toilet. “Yech. This tastes like shit.”

“It’s what happens when you quit. You realize they suck.”

“I’m realizing that about a lot of things at the moment.” Wendy rubbed her eyes wearily.

Peter held the bottle in his hand and read the label. ‘Peter Barnes: take every six hours for pain as needed. Percodan 5 mg.’ He shook the vial to rattle loudly, figuring there were easily twenty pills in it.

Peter glanced at the drawing he’d placed beside him on the bed, then startled as his mother raced in and snatched the bottle from his hand. He stared at her with his mouth hanging open.

Louise stood straight and held the pills to her breast, catching her breath.

“What the hell was that for?” Peter said angrily. “Has everyone flipped around here?” He narrowed his eyes at her. “What the hell did you think? If I’m going to kill myself I’ll just do it. I could have sat on the streets of New York and bled to death. What is it with all of you? I’m going to kill Eddie.” He ground his jaw and tensed his body causing his stitches to pull. “Ow! Fuck!” Peter held his hand on them, closing his eyes from the pain.

Louise sat next to him on the bed and hugged him close. “Peter, I love you so much. Please calm down. I hate seeing you this way.” She bit her lip as her eyes filled with water.

Peter leaned his sweaty forehead on her shoulder and tried to relax the spasms in his side.

“We trust you, Peter. We just know how potent this drug is and we don’t want you to take too many. Sometimes it wears off faster than the time they allow.”

“Oh, that sounds familiar.” He recalled Wendy’s exact speech. “So, you just run in and snatch them out of my hand like I’m a child with a bottle of poison?”

“I’m sorry, Peter, please forgive me.” She sat back to see his face. “You are the dearest to me, out of the three of you. Don’t tell your brother and sister,” she said, “But you’re so closed, Peter. I’m afraid I’ve lost touch with you. How can I help you?” Louise brushed Peter’s hair back from his face.

“You can make me fifteen years older.”

“Why?”

“So I can marry Wendy.”

Her expression went blank. “You…you mean.”

“Wendy. Wendy Saunders. You met her at the hospital. Remember?” He said, “I love her, Mom. I want her to be mine always. But she’s much older than me. How can I make it work? Dad said that love can make things happen if we really try. Is that true?”

“No, dear, she’s much too old for you. What about Rose? We never hear about her anymore. Aren’t you two still going steady?”

In complete revulsion, Peter replied, “I’m too old to ‘go steady’ and Rose is nasty. No, I’m going to make this work. Wendy loves me, you know.”

“Does she?” Louise’s smile bent sideways, looking more like a grimace to Peter.

“Yup, she told me so.”

“Well, can I get you anything?” She stood up. “Juice? Ice cream?”

“Ice cream. Thanks.” Peter shifted on the bed to get comfortable.

“I’ll bring it right up to you.” Her face flickered a smile.

Richard was still on the phone with Wendy when Louise walked passed him. Louise slammed the pills on the counter, went to the freezer, and took out the ice cream.

“Gotta go.” Richard turned his back to Louise for privacy, and said, “See ya,” then hung up quickly.

“Who were you talking to?” Louise slapped a cupboard shut loudly over Richard’s head.

“What do you care?”

“Wendy?”

“What if it was?”

“Do you realize for some god-forsaken-reason your son claims to be in love with that woman?”

Richard replied, “I know.”

“You know?”

“Yes.”

“And you go on seeing her? You never fail to amaze and disgust me.” Louise dug at the ice cream ruthlessly. “You bring these horrid women around and they meet my sons. What class you have, Richard, in the women you choose.”

In reflex, Richard raised his hand to strike her. Louise stood firm and glared at him. They both knew the next slap would land him in jail.

Richard watched her expression harden as if it were a dare. He lowered his hand and clenched his jaw. “You should shut up about something you know nothing about. Everything is under control, so don’t go fucking it up as usual.”

“Under control? Do you plan on telling Peter his beloved has another lover? You bastard! Do it right or he’ll go off the deep end. You should see him mooning over her. He said you told him love will mend all. Great work, Richard.” She threw the container back in the freezer and walked by him. “And now you want him to live with you in the city and drag him into your disgusting lifestyle. You’re pathetic.”

Unable to prevent himself from reacting, Richard grabbed Louise’s arm and turned her around. “He met her in that damn art class you permitted him to pose for. You signed the working papers, not I!” He squeezed her arm with all his strength until Louise cringed and jerked back. “What did you expect when you allow him to strip and stand in front of strangers? Hmm? That no one would want him? Use your head for once, you ass! You could have prevented it, not me.” Richard grabbed his coat and stormed out. The house shook from the great slam it received when he closed the door. Me! Always blaming me you pathetic idiot!

Chapter Nineteen

Keith stood naked in front of his mirror smoking a joint. After he held each breath, he leaned out of his opened window to exhale outside to prevent the smell from lingering inside the house. He snuffed the roach out in his fingers and placed it into a silver case.

Keith took a brush to his hair, fluffing it, shaking it full. He rested his hands on his dresser and stared at his face. “I wish my eyes were green.” He jumped on his bed to be able to see his entire body in the mirror. “Yeah, nice bod.” He grabbed his cock and started to work on it as he stared at his reflection.

As the sensations rose to a climax, Keith closed his eyes, falling to his knees on his bed. He shot out ribbons of cum, grunted and jerked his hand faster.

The sound of the door and a choking cough brought Keith around. Keith opened his eyes to see Peter staring at him.

“Hello, pretty brother.” Keith milked his cock.

Peter jumped out of his skin. “Shoulda’ knocked! Sorry!” Peter backed away and shut the door.

Keith smiled wickedly and used his thumb to wipe the last creamy drop from his slit.

After he washed up, Keith rolled a few more joints and dressed in a tight pair of blue jeans and a black muscle T-shirt. He dabbed cologne on his neck, then raised his shirt so he could rub some on his chest to his flat muscular belly. He ran a sock over his black boots to polish them, checked out his clean shaven face in the mirror and winked. Lastly, he found his leather jacket and strutted down the hallway.

Keith stopped at Peter’s door and opened it quickly, trying to catch Peter in a similar act.

Peter jumped at the start.

“Reading? That’s what you do with the door closed?” Keith made a silly face at him.

Peter smiled awkwardly. “Well, I know what you do.”

“Heh, heh.” Keith grinned wickedly.

“Get lost.” Peter waved him out.

“Right. See ya twerp.” Keith winked at him and hopped down the stairs with a jubilant bound.

“Where  are you going?” Louise asked, checking the time.

“Out. I’ll be really late, so, don’t wait up.” Before his mother could respond Keith waved good-bye and walked out into the cooling night air. He opened his joint case and stuck one in his mouth, lighting it. Inhaling and holding it in as long as he could, he blew out the smoke in a thin blue cloud.

Keith strolled passed a few houses as dogs barked at him in alarm. A car turned down his street, its headlights blinding Keith as he crushed the joint out in his fingers. It stopped and the passenger door swung open.

Keith climbed into Steve’s blue 1977 Chevy Impala and smiled. “Hey.”

Giving him a good once over, Steve licked his chops at the sight. “Hey back. You look positively edible.”

Knowing he did, Keith grinned and shook his hair seductively, then he held up the rest of the joint. “Want some?”

“No, I don’t smoke it anymore. Trying to keep the lungs clean. You can though.”

“I already had a hit.” Keith stuck it back in his case put it into his jacket pocket. “So, where’s this party?”

“In the City at a friend’s place. His name is Terry.”

When warmth covered his thigh, Keith glanced down at Steve’s hand. “Am I supposed to be your date?”

“Christ, I’m tempted to turn around and have you all to myself for the night.” Steve kept peeking at Keith while he drove. “I’m thinking about it very seriously. God, you are too much.” Steve squeezed Keith’s leg tightly and rocked it side to side.

Keith flipped down the visor to stare in the mirror. “Yeah, I do look pretty fantastic, don’t I?”

“And modest?”

“Fuck modesty. How about honesty?”

“God, I love you.” Steve laughed.

“Christ! Now you love me?” Keith looked down at the masculine hand that hadn’t moved from his leg and if anything was getting friendlier. “Anyway…what’s Wendy up to tonight?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Let me guess, a date with my old man?”

“Mad?”

“Nah. I just might have to find myself a new babe at the party tonight. Mad?” Keith grinned demonically and stared back at Steve.

“Nah! Good luck.”

“There will be women there, right? This isn’t a queer party, is it?”

Steve’s smile broadened. “You should do very well. There will be plenty to choose from.”

Knowing Keith was cock-teasing Steve, Keith raised Steve’s hand from its grip on his thigh and stuck Steve’s middle finger into his mouth.

“Holy fuck!” Steve almost lost control of the vehicle he was so shocked.

Keith roared with laughter. “Shit. It takes nothing to turn you fags on.”

Steve caught his breath and focused back on the road as they merged onto Route 4’s entrance ramp. “Keith, you gorgeous motherfucker, you said a mouthful.”

Keith and Steve’s arrival were formally announced by the doorman via a telephone in a posh thirty story Manhattan condominium complex. Keith was already impressed. The lobby was very Manhattan-sophisticate with art deco linier panels and minimalist geometric designs. An elevator man brought them to the top floor penthouses.

“Shit! Terry has bucks.” Keith gazed around in awe.

“You could say that.”

“What does he do?”

“He’s a musician.” Steve held Keith’s hand and led Keith down the hall.

“Rock? Do I know him?”

“Mm, you might.” Steve tapped the door.

Keith grew excited and could hear music coming from inside. A man answered and showed them in. The apartment was packed with people.

“You’re Terry Jones!” Keith pointed at their host.

“And you are a fucking beauty! Steve, Steve, you outdid yourself, love.” Without wasting another moment, Terry ran his hand through Keith’s long hair.

Keith said to Stev,. “That’s Terry Jones from D.L., right?”

“It is.” Steve laughed. “You want a drink?”

Keith was floating high. “I love your music, man!”

“You’ll have a chance to show me your appreciation later.” Terry kept stroking Keith. “I’ll bet you’ve got the tightest ass.”

Steve roared with hilarity and walked away.

“There’s coke if you’re interested.” Terry gestured to the table.

“In a minute. Who else is here?” Keith scanned around and caught sight of a woman staring boldly at him. A siren in a clinging dress, high heels, and huge breasts was making it obvious she had found Keith in the crowded room. “Grrr…” Keith smiled at her in invitation. “Damn. I’m in heaven.” Keith shivered as Terry petted his hair.

“Everyone from the band is here. You’ll get a chance to meet them all. Don’t worry. You may even get to thank us all individually.” Terry looked down at Keith’s crotch. “Nice hard-on, love. Yes, you’re perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

Steve returned and handed Keith a beer.

“You didn’t tell me the party was hosted by D.L.” Keith elbowed Steve playfully.

“God forgive me!” Steve rolled his eyes comically.

Terry grabbed Keith’s hand. “Let me show you our first gold record.”

Steve called after Terry, “You owe me!”

“What’d he mean?” Keith asked Terry.

“Nothing, love.” Terry escorted Keith to his private bedroom, turning on an overhead light.

Keith found all of Terry’s equipment and framed posters of the band on the walls. His jaw dropped as he gazed around. “I can’t believe this.”

Terry moved behind him. “Impressed?” He brushed his hips against Keith’s bottom.

“Very.” Keith leaned forward to read the plaque under the gold record. When Keith straightened up, Terry boldly caressed Keith’s neck through his hair, lifting it in his fingers as if to feel its texture. Keith spun around to face him.

“So, my young beauty, I’m very glad you’re well pleased.”

“Just fabulous.” Keith shook his head in awe as he gazed into Terry’s painted eyes.

“I was about to say the same thing.” Terry purred, smoothing his hand down Keith arm.

Keith shivered. “About what?”

“About you.” Terry moved closer.

“You…You think I’m fabulous?” Keith replied.

“You catch on quick.”

Terry appeared to be about to taste Keith’s lips when someone came into the room. Keith looked up at a woman standing at the door opening.

“Terry, let’s not be selfish so early in the evening. We haven’t even had a chance to meet your new friend yet.” She smiled seductively and Keith recognized her as the woman who was leering at him in the living room. He couldn’t wait to get at those breasts.

Terry put his arm around Keith and led him out, following the woman. “Yes. All right.”

“Christ, those are the biggest tits I’ve ever seen,” Keith whispered to Terry and sucked down his beer.

“She always shows everyone up.” Terry squeezed Keith’s narrow waist. “Watch her, she’s got her eye on you.”

“It’s her you’ve got to warn.” Keith grinned wickedly.

Terry began laughing and left Keith alone.

Keith finished his beer, standing over the table as people snorted cocaine. One of the men handed Keith a gold straw. Keith placed his empty mug on the table and knelt down, did a line, then relaxed on the sofa. The cocaine trickled down his throat making him crave another beer. Keith spotted Terry talking to that woman. A pang of jealousy shot through Keith. He wondered if Terry and the pretty woman were together.

Keith took his time examining Terry, who in his opinion, was extremely good looking. Terry’s hair was very long and sandy brown, full and thick, with waves passed his shoulders. His face was chiseled and angular and his blue eyes had a mischievous twinkle to them. Terry was tall and very well defined. Keith could see every muscle in his arms flex as he moved. Christ, they’re as gorgeous in person as they are on MTV.

Steve appeared with a fresh beer. “Enjoying yourself, Keith?”
“Steve, I can’t thank you enough. I can’t believe you know Terry Jones. I’m really impressed.” Keith took the iced mug and sucked the contents down thirstily.

“Hey, no problem. I’m driving, so enjoy yourself. Live dangerously.”

“I intend to.” Keith connected eyes with that voluptuous brunette again.

Steve turned to where Keith was leering and started laughing. “You’ve got good taste.”

“Fuck. Let me at her.”

“Be my guest.” Steve backed up.

His drug induced euphoria at its peak, Keith figured it was a good time for some action. He found the voluptuous woman had taken a seat on another sofa. Keith licked his lips and crossed the room towards her, holding his fresh beer. They locked eyes. At his approached she made room for Keith next to her.

Keith sat down, feeling her warmth and inhaling her scent. He thought she was truly lovely. “What’s your name?”

“Laurie.” Her voice sent a chill up Keith’s spine.

“God, you’re sexy, Laurie.” Wanting to devour her, Keith leaned closer, placing his arm around her shoulders. “To Laurie.” Keith raised his glass, tapped hers, then drank the contents down, slamming the empty mug onto the table with a bang of triumph.

She giggled and sipped her wine. “Do you want to kiss me?”

“Yes!” Keith nodded eagerly.

Laurie set her drink down on the coffee table and held Keith’s face forcefully in both hands, kissing him passionately. Keith moaned and grew rock hard. Laurie ran her hand boldly over Keith’s crotch, then stood and hauled him to his feet. Her willingness and strength slightly startled Keith, but he wasn’t going to object.

Keith spotted Terry and Steve from across the room and winked and grinned at them. Terry and Steve exchanged big cheesy smiles.

Keith followed Laurie into a bedroom where she dimmed the lights to almost total darkness. She kicked off her high heels and tugged down her pantyhose.

“Wow. Talk about eager.” Keith leaned against the door and admired her narrow hips and tight bottom.

She curled her finger at him. “Come here, hot stuff.”

“Here I come.” Keith felt like he was in some kind of wonderful dream, floating on blissful euphoria.

Keith stood over Laurie, admiring her. Suddenly Laurie yanked Keith forward and began sucking at his neck with her painted mouth. “Jesus! Horny?”

She began stripping off Keith’s clothing while keeping his lips occupied.

“Laurie…” Keith closed his eyes in a swoon as Laurie reached into Keith’s open jeans and exposed his cock.

She got to her hands and knees, sucking him eagerly.

“Holy shit.” Keith swayed with the waves of a very lovely blowjob, digging his fingers through Laurie’s thick hair. “Oh, my God, I want to get in you,” Keith purred.

As suddenly as she started, Laurie stopped and lay back on the bed with her legs spread.

Her actions made Keith slightly disoriented. She was rough in her handling of him. He’d never had a woman touch him with so much power before.

Keith attempted to straddle her hips. She felt immense. How tall was she? He didn’t really notice before. Keith’s six foot height was usually hard for a woman to match.

Laurie reached into the nightstand and produced a tube of something and a condom. She handed Keith the condom.

“Hate these fucking things. Aren’t you on the pill?” Keith rolled the rubber on.

“No.” Laurie grabbed Keith’s sheathed cock and coated him with something slippery and cool.

“What the fuck is that shit? Aren’t you wet enough, babe?” Keith began to feel repulsed.

“I like it really wet. You don’t mind, do you, gorgeous?”

Keith tried not to lose his hard-on as Laurie covered him with glistening goo. He did mind. It was too weird.

The determination in which Laurie urged Keith to lay on top of her was startling. Keith felt the crush of her dress under his bare skin. Laurie directed him to a hole efficiently and Keith pushed in. It was tight and delicious.

“Fuck.” Keith moaned and penetrated as deeply as he could.

When Laurie groaned it sounded very unfeminine. Keith tried to block out unpleasant thoughts and concentrate on the incredible tightness of her little ring. Keith attempted to get at her breasts, but couldn’t seem to make any headway under her dress. Everything was too tight.

Laurie grabbed Keith’s head and kissed him passionately, stuffing her tongue down his throat and moaning as she thrust wildly from below.

Before the strangeness of the act turned him off, Keith closed his eyes, needing to come. Keith separated from her smothering kisses. “That’s it, babe.” Keith arched his back and ground his jaw while Laurie continued to rub against him from below, hard, rocking friction.

Keith felt the orgasm churn in his balls and drove in deeper, faster. “Ahfuck!” Keith came, working his cock as far as he could inside her.

Laurie shuddered and gasped, throwing back her head in a masculine gesture.

Keith panted to catch his breath. He leaned up over her and said, “Take this thing off,” as he tugged at her dress in frustration.

“All right.” Laurie unhooked the back of it and pulled down the sleeves.

Still inside her, Keith kissed and licked her smooth shoulders as they were revealed. He yanked down the front of her dress and reached for one of her breasts. Immediately Keith pulled his dick out of her body and sat up in the darkness. “Are you wearing falsies or something?”

“Yes.”

“You shouldn’t do that. Geez, you really let me down.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Well, it’s okay, I guess.” Keith took one of her nipples into his mouth, then sat up again and rubbed his face in confusion.

“What’s wrong, gorgeous?”

“I think I’m insane.”

“Why?” Laurie smoothed her hand down Keith’s abdomen to his cock, taking the spent condom off Keith’s soft dick, and teasing him hard again.

Keith felt a rush of pleasure. “Never mind.” Keith rolled off of Laurie and dropped flat onto the mattress. “Would you mind taking all your clothing off?”

“No.” Laurie climbed off the bed, keeping her back to Keith modestly. She let her dress fall to the floor and turned towards him, tilting her head seductively.

In the very dim light Keith was able to make out her outline and inhaled sharply. “You…you…you’re a guy!”

“I know.” He lay next to Keith on the bed.

Keith closed his eyes and gulped hard, thinking he may pass out from the shock.

“I’m the drummer from Dead Liverpool, Laurie Wells.”

Keith lay very still, trying not to tremble.

“Keith, doll, are you all right? Too much booze?” Laurie nuzzled him, rubbing Keith’s belly.

Mortified, Keith closed his eyes tighter. He was wondering if he could be having a nightmare and maybe he would wake up soon.

There was a light knock at the door.

Keith found Steve opening it after Laurie said, “Come in.”

Steve asked, “You two going to stay in here all night?”

Laurie shrugged and gestured to Keith.

Steve approached Keith’s side of the bed. “Hey, Keith.”

Keith’s eyes widened in terror at Steve seeing him in bed with Laurie.

“We’ve got a line of people out there waiting for their turn with you. Ya done with Laurie?”

“What?” Keith felt pale.

Laurie stood up and dressed, then lit a cigarette. “Thanks, Keith.” Laurie left the room.

Keith hopped off the bed and grabbed Steve by the collar. “You bastard! Why didn’t you tell me she was a guy?”

“I thought you knew.” Steve smiled.

“I didn’t!” Keith twisted Steve’s shirt.

“We made a deal.” Steve peeled Keith’s hands off his collar.

“Not for this.” Keith reached for his jeans.

Steve gripped Keith’s arm to stop him. “I set the rules, remember? You either cooperate or your old man finds out you raped Wendy and—” Steve waited for eye contact. “You screw men.”

Keith panicked. “He’d never believe you.”

“No?” Steve slid his hand down Keith’s arm sensuously.

Petrified of the consequences, Keith dropped back on the bed and ran his hand through his hair nervously. “How…how many?”

“As many as want to.”

“I don’t believe this is happening to me,” Keith moaned.

“Want another deal?” Steve asked.

Numb and very frightened, Keith gazed up at his face. “Yes! Anything but this.”

“I’ll let you off the hook with one more. But you have to promise never to see Wendy again and to never tell your brother about your relationship with her. Deal?”

“One more? Who you?” Keith sneered, propelling Steve away from him with a quick movement.

“No, our host. Though I am tempted.” Steve clutched a handful of Keith’s hair roughly.

“No. One more. All right.” Keith batted Steve’s hand away. “Can I smoke a joint first?”

“Sure.”

Keith found his jacket on the floor and removed his silver case.

Steve lit a match for him, watching him.

Keith sucked the smoky air into his lungs.

“I’ll get Terry.”

Keith nodded through his exhaled smoke. When Steve left the room, Keith stood and walked to a poster that hung on the wall of the four band members. Terry was by far the best looking. Lead vocal, lead guitar, and ultimately, the star. Keith shrugged. Could be worse. He heard the door and turned around.

“Are you ready for me, my young beauty?”

Keith inhaled one last long drag of smoke, holding it in long as he could, then exhaled. “Ready.”

With a greedy smile on his face, Terry curled his finger at Keith and opened his leather slacks.

Keith stood tall, flipping back his hair in defiance, walking towards Terry bravely.

“On your knees, pretty boy.”

Keith sunk down and stared at Terry’s large erect cock.

“Suck it.”

Nerves kicked in and Keith didn’t know if he could perform. When he inhaled he caught Terry’s masculine aroma and shivered. Terry held his dick by the base and aimed it at Keith’s mouth.

Oh God. I can’t do this.

“Open wide.”  Terry brushed Keith’s lips with the head of his cock. “And you are going to swallow.”

It’s Terry Jones of D.L. It’s Terry Jones of D.L. Keith closed his eyes and parted his lips.

“That’s it, gorgeous.”

Keith held Terry’s hips to control how deep his cock went into his mouth, but soon Terry took over. Terry knotted his fists in Keith’s hair and fucked Keith orally.

Keith fought the urge to gag or push Terry away, tolerating it and wishing he had never agreed to Steve’s terms. Wendy wasn’t worth this. No way.

“I’m there, love. Get ready.”

Keith flinched in revulsion and felt thick cum fill his mouth. Keith forced it down his throat with a gulp and was held in place until Terry decided he was through.

The minute Keith’s hair was released, Keith sat back on his heels and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, staring at Terry’s demonic expression.

“You’re perfect. Bloody perfect.”

Still numb from the act, Keith choked for air as he regained his breath.

Terry knelt in front of him and cupped Keith’s jaw. “I want you.”

“Want me to do what?” Keith trembled.

Terry just smiled.

It was late. Very late. Keith was silent on the drive home, brooding.

Steve finally broke the silence. “They were all men, you know.”

Keith faced the window, staring at the blackness of the Hudson River as they crossed the huge span of the George Washington Bridge.

“Pretty women, don’t you think?”

“Shut up! Will you just shut up?” Keith snapped.

Steve laughed. “I’d bet you’d look unbelievable in lipstick and a dress. A real knock out.”

Keith was about to strike him. “You’re pushing it, Steve.”

“I thought you were thrilled to meet Dead Liverpool? Remember? Huh, that’s gratitude for ya.” Steve shook his head in a mocking gesture.

Keith counted to ten to calm himself, grinding his teeth. When they parked in front of his house Keith almost jumped out of the moving car.

Steve grabbed Keith’s arm to give a last warning, “Remember. You don’t bug Wendy or your brother, got it? Or I call Daddy.”

“I got it.” Keith jerked his arm away and slammed the car door.

The house was dark, everyone was obviously in bed. Keith slipped up to his room, stripped naked, then scalded the sensations off his skin in the shower. After he felt clean, he thumbed through his music collection. He found his Dead Liverpool L.P. and sat on his bed, staring at Terry Jones as Terry posed in his leathers on the cover.

Chapter Twenty

Daffodil buds poked through the old decaying autumn leaves in the flowerbeds around Peter’s house, showing the promise of renewal and life.

Peter paced outdoors in the front driveway. He was very glad the day had come when his stitches were coming out. He felt better after a week of convalescing but his boredom was at its peak. Peter was even getting anxious for school again. His gems had been gone over too many times and his books read and reread.

When he received Seymour’s call with the appraisal results Peter gave Seymour Edwina’s address and told him to mail the pin and paperwork to her directly. Peter refused to ever see or speak to Edwina again.

Peter expected his mother at any minute to pick him up and take him to the doctor. She told him she had errands to tend and was running late.

The front stoop looked warm and inviting so Peter made himself comfortable on it and faced to the sun, hoping to get a head start on a tan. The sound of loud car engine caught his attention. A glimmer of cherry red made his stomach jump. The moment his senses caught up, Peter leaped to his feet and sprinted to the curb, almost throwing himself in front of the car to stop it.

It pulled over with a screech of brakes. Peter rested his hand on the fender, peering in, holding his side and catching his breath. He tapped the glass window and smiled.

Wendy unlocked the door and set the emergency brake.

“Wendy, you would have driven right by!” Peter sat next to her on the leather bucket seat.

She lowered her head shyly but didn’t answer.

“I’m getting the stitches out today. I can’t wait, they itch like crazy. Its healed, look.” Peter raised his shirt to reveal the thin line under his ribs. “See it?” He twisted closer. “Gross, isn’t it?” Peter peeked down at it. “It doesn’t bother me now, I’ve gotten used to it.” He let his shirt drop loosely over his jeans. “So, Wendy, how are you? I’ve missed you. When can I pose again? I want you to finish that painting.”

Before Peter could say another word, Wendy used both her hands, finding Peter’s jaw and pulling him to her lips.

Peter grunted in shock, then locked his arms around Wendy’s neck and drew her closer. Peter swooned as Wendy devoured him, barely pausing for air.

He slowed down and kissed her lighter, softer. “I love you. God, I love you.” He sat back in fear. “Oh no.”

“What?”

“You have to go. My mother will be pulling up any minute.”

It was as if Wendy needed a last touch before she left. She smoothed her hand over Peter’s legs and bulging crotch.

“No, really, you have to get going.” Peter grabbed at the door handle and opened it up.

“Peter!” Wendy lunged after him.

He leaned back into the car for one last kiss.

“They can’t find out,” she whispered.

“I know. I’ll call you.”

“When?”

“Soon. Now go!” He shut the door and stepped back.

The tires let out a short piercing chirp and she was gone.

Peter took a deep breath, and stood straight just as his mother pulled into the driveway from the opposite direction.

Yearning the dulling effect of a marijuana high, Keith leaned out of his bedroom window and smoked a joint. When his phone rang, he crushed out the roach on the window sill and picked up the receiver. “Yeah?” He watched himself in the dresser mirror as he spoke.

“Hello, my young beauty.”

Keith choked and his hands went clammy.

“Ya there man?”

“T…T…Terry?”

“Oh, smart and beautiful, you have to love that.” Terry laughed. “Okay, sit down. Are you sitting?”

Obediently, Keith plopped down on his bed. “I’m sitting.”

“Good boy. Now, I have a proposition for you, and forgive the pun. I want you to come on tour with us. Be one of our roadies. I know you love the band and thrive on the excitement. I’ll handle your expenses and sleeping arrangements, plus great pay. I mean, for you? I can be very generous. What would you think would be a plausible offer?”

“Huh?” Keith was in shock. “Uh, three hundred a week?”

“Sold. Pack your kit. We’re off first thing in the morning.”

Keith’s jaw dropped. “Uh, one thing you said about sleeping arrangements—”

“Relax, gorgeous, you’re with me. No one else. Laurie’s bleedin’ out of luck as far as I’m concerned.”

“You, you mean, with you. Like with you?”  Keith peeked over at the Dead Liverpool LP sleeve he had propped up on his nightstand.

“Yes,” Terry said. “How do you like that?”

For some reason, Keith did. Very much.

“Give me your address. The limo will be there at eight. You’re going to love it—oh—my beautiful doll, love it!”

Without the slightest hesitation, Keith gave him his address. Keith hung up the phone, staring at it like he couldn’t believe what he just heard.

Reacting to the news as it sunk in, Keith jumped up and found a duffel bag, then started packing his clothing and toiletries in it.

Keith reread the note he was going to leave for his mother. He knew she’d sleep late tomorrow since it was Saturday, and he’d be off without a hitch if he was quiet.

Keith stared at his lousy penmanship in dismay.

Mom,

I got the opportunity for a great job that pays 300 a week.

It’s with a rock band. Don’t be upset! I’ll be a roadie.

(Ask Peter if you don’t know what that is.) I’m not as

smart as my brother and I have to take what comes

my way. They’re going on tour and I’ll be gone a couple

of months. I’ll write and let you know where we stay along

the way. Wish me luck!

Keith

He folded it neatly, stuck it in an envelope, sealed it, and wrote ‘Mom’ on the front of it. Filled with nervous energy, Keith tapped his leg with it and scanned the room for anything he forgot to pack. He stood, tossing the envelope on his dresser, and went into the bathroom to check around again.

Coming closer to the end of his junior high-school year and glad for it, Peter dumped his books off onto his bed and was thinking hard of a way to escape for the weekend with Wendy. He heard Keith in the next room and crept over to see him. The door was agape and Peter hoped Keith wasn’t naked when he answered. “Keith?” Peter rapped his knuckles on the door.

Peter heard a rush of noise follow.

After what felt like a long time, Keith opened the door appearing anxious. “What?”

Seeing something was wrong immediately, Peter asked, “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Keith flipped his mane of hair back from his face. He was sweating and looked high…again.

“Listen, I need to ask you something. You got a minute?”

Keith bit his lip, peeked at his bed, and allowed Peter come in.

Peter walked in warily, watching Keith as he fidgeted nervously. “You sure you’re okay?”

Keith snarled. “You ask me that once more and I’ll deflower you.”

“You’ll what?” Peter coughed. “What the hell does that mean?”

“What do you want? I’m fucking busy.” Keith seemed like a man about to be executed.

Peter had no idea what Keith was high on. “Okay. I’ll be quick. I want to go away with a girl for the weekend. Should I tell Mom and Dad it’s the weekend of the class trip so they won’t figure it out? The class trip isn’t until June but they won’t know that, right? So? How do I pull it off?”

“Christ, it’s too easy. Tell Mom and Dad you’re going somewhere with the school. What’s the big deal?”

“But shouldn’t there be a bus that picks me up? Or what if someone calls the house?”

Keith folded his arms over his chest and leaned back against his dresser. “Tell Mom the bus is at school and walk there like you always do. And who the hell would call you, ya dipshit?” Keith laughed.

At first Peter took offense, then he thought about it. No one would. Peter sat on Keith’s bed, thinking about it. He worried about actually lying. Peter was a really lousy liar. And his dad had gone to Fair Lawn High and was an alumnus. Would his dad remember when the class trip was? Shit. April, June, how would he remember? It was over twenty years ago.

Peter’s noticed Keith’s opened closet. It appeared empty. Peter stood up and poked his head into it curiously. “Where’s all your stuff?”

Keith didn’t answer.

Peter turned to look at him and spotted a loaded duffel bag sticking out from under the bed. “What the?”

Keith ran to Peter to cover his mouth with his hand. “Listen, twerp, shut your mouth before someone hears you.”

Peter tried to take Keith’s hand away. He did with a tug and asked, “Where are you going? Are you running away?”

“Running away?” Keith sneered and stepped back. “You shit head.”

Peter plopped down on the bed again, waiting for an explanation.

After wringing his hands, Keith made sure his door was closed, then jumped on the bed next to Peter and tugged Peter down so they were lying face to face. “You promise not to say anything? Can I trust you?” Keith asked.

It was the exact position they used to get into when they were young and had secrets to whisper to each other. Lying low, nose to nose, Peter began the privileged conversation. “Are you in trouble?” His heart beat faster.

Keith smiled. “No. For a change, I’m not.” Keith petted Peter’s hair back from his forehead.

Still on edge, not knowing what the heck was going to be revealed, Peter waited.

Very quietly, Keith said, “I met the members of Dead Liverpool at a party. The guitarist, Terry Jones, offered me a job as a roadie.” Keith looked like he was about to burst.

“Dead Liverpool? For real?”

Keith shushed Peter and dragged him closer, resting his hand on Peter’s shoulder. “For real.”

“You think Mom would freak?”

“Yes. Please don’t tell her until I’m gone.”

“I won’t. So, which party did you meet them at?”

“Through Steve—” Keith went pale and bit his tongue.

“Steve? Steve who?” Peter narrowed his eyes at Keith’s bizarre change of expression.

“Uh, some kid at school. You don’t know him. Anyway, this is it. I may not see you again for a while. Will you miss me?” Keith ran his fingers over Peter’s cheek.

“Stop. It tickles.” Peter brushed Keith’s hand away and met Keith’s brown eyes. “Yes, I’ll miss you. Very much.”

Keith moved even closer so their bodies touched. “I’m sorry if I ever said anything nasty to you. I mean, growing up and all. I didn’t mean any of it.”

“I know. Not like Dad.” Peter lowered his voice as they connected from chest to toe.

“No. Nothing is as bad as what that was like. Remember when he lived here?”

“Yes. He hit you more than me. I’m sorry, Keith.”

Keith found Peter’s hand and toyed with Peter’s fingers. “You have nothing to be sorry for, baby brother.”

“I still am. You never deserved to be punished the way you were.”

Keith blinked slowly. “You know what he did to me?”

“Yes. I sometimes witnessed it when you didn’t know I was looking. I cried for you. I don’t know how you stood it and I was helpless to do a damn thing.” Peter studied the bitterness of the events wash over Keith.

“It made me tough, Peter.”

“It made you wild.” Peter grinned.

“It did. You have no idea, little brother, you have no idea.” Keith let go of Peter’s hand and caressed Peter’s hair again.

“Don’t tell me. My virgin ears.” Peter giggled.

“Come with me,” Keith said.

“What? Where?”

Keith dug his fingers into the hair on the back of Peter’s head. “I want you there, with me.”

“I can’t. Really, Keith. I have to finish school and everything. And think about Mom.”

Keith studied Peter’s features. “I’m so jealous of the color of your eyes, Petey. They’re hypnotizing. The green has flecks of gold mixed in with it. Peter, you are so beautiful.”

“Jesus, Keith. You’re weirding me out.” Peter backed up putting a gap between them. “When do you leave?”

“First thing in the morning.”

“That soon?”

“Yes.” Keith smoothed his hand down Peter’s shoulder and his arm, to his hip.

“Will you say good-bye to Jackie?”

“No. She has a big mouth. You say good-bye to everyone for me.”

“I will.” Peter caught something strange in Keith’s expression again. “You okay?” Keith’s eyes were filling with liquid.

“Yes. It’s just a big change for me.”

“Will you be all right? Will there be people to watch after you?”

When Keith laughed the tears spilled down his cheeks. “I’m almost twenty. I don’t need a mom anymore. But since you asked, yes, someone will be watching over me. One of my rock heroes. It doesn’t get any better than that.”

Enjoying this rare moment of tenderness and peace between them, Peter raised his hand off the bed and with his index finger he touched one of the salty drops as it fell from Keith’s eye. “I’ve never seen you cry.”

“That’s because I usually hide.”

“You realize this is the first time we’ve talked like this together in almost ten years?”

Keith smiled wryly. “I tried when you were born. All you did was stare at me.”

Peter broke up with laughter.

“You are so incredibly beautiful, Peter, inside and out. Do you have any idea how much I’m going to miss you?”

“Stop or I’ll cry too.” When Keith pushed Peter back on the bed and lay over his chest, Peter choked. “Christ! You’re not ganna’ kiss me or anything, are you?”

Keith’s expression hardened. “And if I was? Just a peck good-bye?”

“I’d think you were psycho!” Peter felt a wash of anxiety fill him.

“I am psycho.” Before Peter could turn away, Keith kissed his lips.

Peter reacted in horror and slammed Keith back. “Are you nuts?”

Keith kept his dead weight on top of Peter, staring at him.

Peter squirmed out from under Keith and made more space between them. He was dumbfounded by his insane brother’s actions. Peter wiped at his mouth in disgust. “How high are you? This is a joke, right?”

Keith didn’t speak a word, he just stared right through Peter.

“Hello? A joke, right?”

“Sure, Peter. A joke.”

Before Keith could try anything else, Peter hopped off the bed. “I need to get some homework done. Are you hanging around for dinner?”

“No. And I’ll be gone when you wake up in the morning.”

“You will?” Peter felt terrible. “Well, make sure you call a lot.”

“I will. See ya, Peter.”

“See ya, Keith.”

Peter headed to his room and sat on the bed. How would life be without his brother around? Lonely. Very lonely.

Chapter Twenty-one

The next morning Peter was in another dimension, dreaming the house was burning. Coming out of the vagueness of the world of slumber, Peter could hear his mother screaming in terror. The dream faded to reality quickly. Peter sat up in panic.

To his astonishment, Peter heard his mother scream again. He threw back the covers and ran into Jackie in the hall as she raced to the sound as well.

Peter expected a roaring fire to be coming up from the bottom floor. All he found was his mother sitting on a kitchen chair, biting her white knuckles, staring at a piece of paper like it was demonically possessed.

Jackie froze and turned pale.

At once Peter knew exactly what was happening and approached his mother. “He’ll be all right,” he said.

Like a mad woman, she jerked her head up and yelled, “You knew?”

Peter couldn’t even force himself to nod.

With uncontrollable rage, Louise grabbed Peter painfully, shaking Peter until he answered her questions. “You knew and you didn’t tell me? You didn’t try and stop him?”

Furious at being handled that way, Peter tore himself free and glared at her. “It’s a job! It’s good pay! What did you expect Keith to be? A brain surgeon?”

Jackie started crying.

Peter put his arm around Jackie trying to comfort her. “Keith said to say good-bye to you, Jackie. He’s sorry he couldn’t last night.” Peter glanced at his mother. “He’ll only be gone a short while. It’s not like he went to war.”

The note slipped from Louise’s hand. She stood and walked to her bedroom, closing the door.

Peter tried to keep his sister from crying. “He’s working as a roadie for Dead Liverpool. Isn’t that great, Jackie?”

Jackie wiped her eyes and nodded, staring at the door her mother had just hid behind. “Yeah, great.”

Peter filled his backpack with the few things he needed for an overnight stay and hopped down the stairs. He ate a quick breakfast and kissed his silent, puffy-faced, mother good-bye.

Peter walked in the direction of the school. Within five blocks Peter spotted a red sports car parked, idling. His heart warmed and he climbed into it and received Wendy’s eager kisses.

“Well? Where to?” she asked excitedly. “Let’s get away. I mean really away. Want to go to California?”

“What? Are you kidding? For two days?”

“No? How does Palm Springs sound?” She drove up the ramp for Route 208.

“We’d spend half the time flying there.”

“Peter, you’re too practical,” she teased. “I’d take you to a ritzy New York hotel but your father might see us.”

Peter said, “He’s in Israel.”

“Oh, yes!” Wendy pumped her fist into the air in triumph.

“He’ll be there ‘til next week. Then he’s flying to Europe to deliver a diamond that’s being cut specially in Tel Aviv. Very expensive. A forty-five carat pear shape. They expect it to be a ‘D-Flawless’.” He held Wendy’s thigh tightly.

“No kidding? All right. New York it is.” She rocketed down the straight highway to the tangle of Route 4.

The George Washington Bridge sparkled in the April sunlight which was blazing on its battleship gray cables.

Wendy parked in front of The Plaza Hotel on Fifth Avenue and a doorman opened her car door for her. She handed her key to a valet and an overnight bag to the doorman.

A few silver-haired patrons shot Peter odd glances, making him feel conspicuous.

Wendy walked confidently to the front desk while Peter lagged behind, his backpack on his shoulder, trying to hide. Waiting for Wendy to handle whatever needed taking care of, Peter admired the glitter and crystal of the hotel lobby.

“Pete! Got the Rose Suite!” Wendy waved to him with a key in her hand as the desk clerk made eye contact with him.

Peter felt his face heat up and wished Wendy would be more discreet, seeing as he was still ‘jailbait’.  Maybe they think I’m her son.  That’s possible. Peter stood tall and made his way over to her.

When she kissed him on the lips the illusion was blown.

With a sigh, Peter followed behind the bellboy as he led them to their room. They rode the elevator in silence. Wendy held Peter’s hand tightly.

They reached the eleventh floor and Peter was in awe at the spender of the décor of this penthouse suite, admiring the sitting area and cluster of overstuffed chairs and shining tables. He assumed the suite was usually saved for dignitaries, VIP’s, or celebrities. “Holy shit.”

Wendy stuffed a tip into the bellboy’s palm once he set her bag down. She ushered the bellboy out and closed the door on him. A second later, Wendy grabbed Peter and began kissing him hungrily.

Peter laughed so hard he couldn’t hold his lips for a kiss. He picked Wendy up off her feet and swung her around in the air.

Wendy closed her eyes and laughed wildly.

Peter set her back on their feet and they stood smooching in the middle of the room like they hadn’t a care in the world.

Wendy broke from his kiss to say, “There’s a huge bathtub.” She began taking off Peter’s shirt. “Come on. Check out this amazing place.”

Peter dropped his backpack on the floor and was dragged to a bathroom with inlaid mosaic patterns in floral motifs on the walls. He held out his arms as Wendy undressed him. His shirt dropped to the tiles, then his jeans were opened.

Wendy covered him with hungry kisses from his nipples to his belly button. She lowered down to her knees, running her lips over the pink scar of his side. It made him shiver. Peter nudged her away from it gently.

Wendy dragged Peter’s jeans down his legs and his briefs to his thighs.

Peter was delirious. Never had he thought he could be this happy or so in love. Peter couldn’t get enough of her. “Wendy Saunders. I love you.”

“Mm. Peter Barnes, I love you too.” She kissed and licked his cock until he Peter’s head was spinning and he was teased to a frenzy. His cock was so hard he was about to come.

Wendy coaxed Peter to lie on the spotless marble floor.

Peter waited while she squirmed out of her clothing quickly and sat on top of Peter’s hips, staring down at him. “You are to die for! To die for! I have never seen a more beautiful young man in my life.”

Trying not to blush in embarrassment from her compliments, Peter concentrated on the sensation of her body on his. “Make love to me.”

“My pleasure.” Wendy raced out and returned carrying her purse. She removed a condom, rolled it on his stiff cock and smiled wickedly at Peter.

Even before Peter entered her, he began panting for breath. He’d wanted to have sex with Wendy from the first moment he lay eyes on her in art class. As his dick throbbed and a dewy drop of pre-cum oozed out into the reserved tip, Peter had a feeling he wouldn’t last more than a second inside her wet heat.

“You ready, Peter?”

“God yeah.” He held her hips and waited.

Straddling him, Wendy knelt up and aimed Peter’s cock towards her body. The tip of his cock penetrated her. Peter instantly felt the urge to come and held back. “Wendy…”

“Go for it. Come for me.”

Peter knew he couldn’t stop it if he wanted to. This was only the second time he had intercourse in his life, and as far as he was concerned, the crappy first one with Rose, didn’t count.

Wendy sank down on him, enveloping his entire cock. Peter closed his eyes and moaned. She paused and then slowly began a rhythm, working up and down on top of him.

Holy fuck! Peter was so excited he couldn’t hold back. “Wendy. I’m going to come.”

“Come.”

Peter opened his eyes to stare at her naked body, he arched his back off the floor and felt the rush of climax erupting from his balls to his ass to his toes, his head and back again to the tip of his dick. “Augh!” He clenched his teeth and shut his eyes. While Wendy ground her hips on him, Peter pushed his up as hard as he could, feeling his dick throb strongly inside her. “Damn!” He kept her in place, loving the aftershocks.

“Don’t pull out.”

“I don’t want to!” Peter opened his eyes to see her smile.

“Good.” She cuddled against his chest.

Peter felt her exhale a deep sigh. He recuperated, knowing if he stayed inside her, he’d get the urge for another climax. How cool was that? “Do you love me?”

“Yes, you beautiful man.”

Peter thought about her reply. “You love me more than just for my looks, right?”

Wendy sat up on his hips. “Yes. It’s all of you that makes you so wonderful. But most of all, it’s your personality.”

Peter melted. “Say you love me.”

“I-love-you.” She kissed his nose.

“Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.” She wiggled on him.

“Say you’ll never leave me.”

“Weren’t we on the way to the bathtub?” She laughed.

Peter grabbed her arm before she moved. “Say it.”

“I’ll never leave you.”

He urged her back down to his chest.

“But I do want to soak in the tub,” she teased.

“Okay.” Peter released her, allowing Wendy to stand. Peter removed the spent condom, tossing it in the trash as Wendy started the water running. No matter her words, Peter wasn’t convinced.

Wendy shook some fragrance into the churning water. Peter moved behind her, curling around her like a boa constrictor.

She purred and nuzzled back into him. He cupped her breasts from behind and snuggled against her neck. “Marry me.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“Wendy, be mine. Please say you will.”

She didn’t reply, leading him into the water.

Once Peter was in the tub, Wendy rested her back against his chest so he could cradle her.

“Say it.”

“I’m yours, Peter. I’m all yours.”

Peter kissed her neck, holding her tightly.

“I could fall asleep in your arms.”  She sighed.

He felt her go limp against him. Peter rested his chin on the back of her head and felt a nervous twinge in his stomach. Why is it I don’t trust anyone anymore?

Chapter Twenty-two

Peter succumbed to Wendy’s passion for shopping. She had a taxi drop them off on The Avenue of the Americas.

Under protest, Peter ducked in and out of every boutique and department store as Wendy outfitted him with polished black leather Manolo Blahnik shoes, Bill Blass black cotton shirt, trousers, and a shiny new William Barry black leather jacket.

“Now you’re as stunning as a runway model.” She pinched his cheek. “Besides,” she said, “The clothing makes you look at least nineteen or twenty.”

“I suppose that’s a good thing.” Peter felt awkward, but knew better than to argue with Wendy. He stared in the triple mirror. I look more like Keith than ever. His hair was as long as Keith’s, passed his shoulder and brushing over his eyes.

Wendy chewed on one of her painted nails as she stared at him. “Jesus, Peter, I’m dying to get my hands on you again.”

Catching her eyes in the mirror, he smiled. “Ditto.”

“Later. Time to eat.” Wendy handed Peter the bags which contained his own clothing, hooked his elbow and headed out the door with him.

Wendy hailed a cab and requested they head to the The Palm Restaurant.

Peter was taken aback by the attention they received from the restaurant staff. They appeared to know Wendy very well.

“Look at all those old farts staring at us,” she said, tilting her head to the tables they passed. “Ha. Turn-about is fair play. Eat your hearts out, ya suckers.”

“Wendy, behave.” Peter felt his cheeks go red. “Christ. Why are they all staring at me?”

“Because, my dear, you’re more of a dish than anything this five star restaurant has to offer. And,” she whispered in Peter’s ear, “The patrons knew my dead hubby.”

Peter gulped and avoided the gazes of the old men in the room. Peter thanked the host for the menu as he sat down, hiding behind it like a shield. “I have no idea what to order.”

“Allow me.”

“Good.” Peter lowered the menu and tried to shake his long hair over his eyes to avoid meeting all the rude stares.

He was served a meal to fit a king; crab cakes with mango salsa and Wendy made sure Peter drank enough alcohol to calm his nerves. With two glasses of wine ingested like shots of tequila, Peter settled down. He listened to Wendy’s stories about the places she’d been and the people she’d met. Her life was like a novel, one he never wanted to put down. “I love you.”

She stopped her chatter and smiled, her cheeks turning red. “I love you too, sweetie.”

Finally sated, Peter and Wendy strolled happily hand in hand down the bustling concrete pavement alive with shoppers, hawkers, and dog walkers. Peter’s mind was far off in a place of intense contentment. They passed under a neon marquee. “Look. Dead Liverpool.” Peter tucked the shopping bag under his arm and pointed. “Keith just started working as a roadie for that band.”

“He did? Are you kidding me?”

“No. You think we can get tickets?”

“I can do better than that.” She brought Peter to the backstage door and pounded it.

A very large frightening looking man with a shaved head and goatee opened it and glared at them. Then his expression changed to pleasure. “Wendy!” As if she were a feather, the big man picked her up and spun her around. “Long time, no see.”

Wendy was set back on her feet. She grabbed Peter’s hand and pushed him inside the back door. All Peter could do was gape in astonishment.

“Can we sneak in, Bruce?” Wendy asked.

The large man closed and bolted the door behind them.

Bruce appeared about to ask Wendy a question when he stopped and stared at Peter. “Geez! Do you have a twin?”

Wendy brushed her hand through Peter’s hair affectionately. “Not a twin, but an older brother. Is Keith here?”

“I’ll look for him. We’re setting up for the show tonight. You want to say hello, meanwhile?”

“Yes.” Wendy followed Bruce.

Peter was stunned. Was there anything this woman could not do?

It was intense chaos all around Peter. People were running in every direction and the very foundation vibrated from the deep bass coming from the rehearsal going on on the stage. Peter scanned around for Keith anxiously. As Peter passed he was given several intimidating leers and gripped Wendy’s hand tightly.

Bruce knocked on a door and when it opened the occupant said “Wendy! Hello, love.”

Peter instantly recognized the lead singer of Dead Liverpool, Terry Jones.

Terry invited Wendy into the room where four men were being made up and groomed by four boy hairdressers. “What the devil has brought you here? I haven’t seen you in ages.” Suddenly Terry spotted Peter and his grin dropped. “What do we have here?”

Wendy wrapped her arm around Peter’s waist possessively. “Down boy. He’s mine.”

“What a pity. Look at this face.” Terry raised Peter’s chin with one of his fingers. “Oh yes, you look like my very own young one.”

“So, I’ve heard,” Wendy said, “You laid claim to that gorgeous nymph?”

Peter couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Do you mean Keith? What do you mean, ‘laid claim’?”

“Never mind, treacle.” Terry urged Peter closer. “Let me admire you. Oh, luscious. You are positively luscious.” As if he were eying a dessert tray, Terry moved his eyes over Peter languidly.

Peter tried to hold firm under the inspection, staring back at Terry boldly, into his painted eyes, and chiseled handsome features.

Peter recognized all the band members. When drummer Laurie Wells met Peter’s gaze in the mirror’s reflection, Laurie shoved his attendant away, moving Terry aside with a body slam. “This one’s mine!”

Wendy began laughing.

“What?” Peter felt pale. “What does he mean?”

To console Laurie, Terry put his arm around his drummer. “He’s not up for sale. He belongs to Wendy.”

“Oh, flaming hell.”

Peter noticed Wendy’s smirk as Laurie tried his best to scowl at her, but it ended up turning into a wicked grin.

“Come say hello, boys.” Terry waved for the other two band members to come over and be social.

“Hello, Wendy. Coming to see the show later?”

“Hi, Nigel. We may.” She urged Peter out in front of her. “Pete, this is Nigel Hallor, the bass guitarist, and that’s Carl Waters, keyboard.”

“Yes. I know all their names.” Peter reached out to shake their hands. “And this is Laurie Wells, drummer extraordinaire.” Peter teased.

“Oh, that’s it! He’s mine!” Laurie reached around Peter’s hips and picked Peter up over his shoulder, carrying him caveman-style.

Dropping the bags he was holding, Peter was shocked as he hung over Laurie’s back while everyone laughed. “Hey!” Peter said, “Get your hand off my ass!”

Laurie replied, “Not bloody likely.”

Another man entered the crowded room.

Seeing his shadow in the mirror, Peter twisted back to see who it was. It was Keith. Peter tried to hide face in his hands, dying of embarrassment.

“Look at that perfect arse, love,” Terry said to Keith.

Peter felt Laurie’s caressing become more amorous.

“Have you ever seen a lovelier bottom? Especially in tight black slacks?” Terry said.

Peter watched Laurie massaging his rump in the mirror’s refection. “Put me down, please.”

Wendy wiped the tears of hilarity from her eyes. “Hi, Keith.”

“Wendy?” Keith spun around. “What are you doing here? What the hell’s going on?”

Peter tried to get down. The groping was getting too friendly for his liking. “Laurie. Please.”

Terry reached out to Keith and brought him close, holding his waist. “That’s not all, my lover. Say hello to your brother.”

Keith said, “I know who it is. Don’t you think I know my own brother’s ass when I see it?”

Laurie spun Peter around to show Keith the front half of his prey as Peter still hung over Laurie’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

Peter peeked at Keith. “Hi. Can he let me down now?”

Laurie set Peter on his feet.

Keith looked from Peter to Wendy, appearing upset. “This is who you were trying to sneak away with for the weekend?” Keith showed his teeth in rage at Peter.

Peter had no idea why his being with Wendy bothered Keith. “Yeah. So?” Peter noticed Terry’s attention was glued to Keith’s reaction for some reason. Peter expected a warm greeting from his brother, especially after the nice good-bye they had in Keith’s room before he left.

“Is this all you needed me for? I’m busy,” Keith growled.

“Oh, so touchy!” Terry dragged Keith into an embrace. “Give us a kiss.” Using physical force, Terry turned Keith to face him and gave Keith a very hot kiss on his lips.

“Holy shit!” Peter choked, about to say something to Wendy but found her biting her fingernail and looking preoccupied.

Keith jerked back from Terry’s kiss and dodged Laurie’s comic attempt at getting one as well. As if Keith felt complete terror at Peter knowing the truth, Keith connected to Peter’s gaze with wild eyes.

Peter’s stomach fluttered from the shock of the realization.

Keith mumbled, “I have work to do.”

Terry grabbed Keith’s ass as he walked away. “Don’t work too hard, love. I want that body fresh and awake after the concert.”

Peter heard Keith’s groan of annoyance as Keith left the room. Peter felt horribly let down, both from the knowledge that Keith lied to him about his and Terry’s relationship, and being almost totally ignored by his brother.

Wendy said, “Come on, Peter, let’s go.”

It was what Peter was hoping to hear. He couldn’t get away fast enough. Peter grabbed the shopping bags he dropped, rushed to Wendy anxiously and held her hand.

“Nice seeing you guys again. Take care of Keith, will ya?” Wendy said.

Terry winked at her. “I will. He’s being very well looked after. I adore that boy.”

Laurie tailed Peter to the door. “Oh, baby, do ya have to leave? Can I just have one night with you?” Laurie made kissing noises at Peter.

“No! Back!” Wendy teased Laurie playfully. “Bye, boys.”

Peter peeked back nervously, seeing both men leering at him.

“What a little piece of ass he is…oh,” Laurie moaned, leaning on Terry’s shoulder as Laurie threw a kiss at Peter.

“I still think I’ve the best of the two. He’s too shy. He’d get eaten up and go silly.” Terry stared boldly at Peter.

“True. And I’ll never forgive you for stealing Keith away from me,” Laurie replied.

Stopping in his tracks, Peter choked and gaped at Laurie.

“You have Nigel.” Terry pointed to their bass player.

“Tell his dick that.” Nigel shook his head in annoyance.

“Peter. What are you waiting for?” Wendy tugged Peter’s arm.

“Holy crap.” Peter followed Wendy out of the building, still absorbing the fact that his brother was not only a roadie, but several of the band members’ gay lover.

The streets felt calm and quiet after the noise from inside the theater. Peter asked, “Can we go back to the room and be alone together?”

“Yes. Of course.”

Peter sighed with relief when Wendy double-locked the suite door behind them. He set his new leather jacket down carefully on a chair and stared at it with an unfocused gaze.

Wendy stood behind him and encircled his waist, rocking him gently. “What is it, baby?”

“Keith.”

“You mean him and Terry?” She released Peter, physically turning him around.

“I think what bothers me more is that he never told me about his relationship with Terry. I don’t care who Keith loves. And the way Keith treated me just now was weird. I guess I thought he’d be happier to see me.”

Wendy escorted Peter to the bedroom. With a sigh, Peter sat on the bed as Wendy went to work undressing him.

“I think you knowing about Terry embarrassed Keith.”

“I don’t care. Honest. It’s his choice. As long as he’s happy.”

“You’re very sweet.” Wendy kissed him.

“Keith has always been a little different. But I love him just the same.” Peter was persuaded backward on the bed as Wendy slid his slacks off.

“When you can tell Keith that, I’m sure it’ll make a difference to him.” Wendy began teasing Peter’s cock to get him hard.

“I have to pee first.”

“Okay.” Wendy reached out her hand and hauled Peter up to his feet, following him to the bathroom.

“What are you doing?”

“Watching.”

“Watching me pee?”

“You mind?”

“I can’t do it while you watch.”

“Okay, I’ll wash up then.” Wendy opened a kit that the hotel provided and took out a new toothbrush and paste. She started brushing her teeth.

With the sound of running water, Peter relaxed and was able to go. When he finished he was handed his own set of toiletries, designed for a man. Peter was impressed by the fancy little kit with the shaver and cologne. “So posh.”

“I know. I get spoiled.”

For some reason Peter needed her reassurance. He held her still, making eye contact. “Tell me you love me again.”

“I love you.” She got on her tiptoes and kissed him.

Peter embraced her and closed his eyes. “You’re all I have. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Chapter Twenty-three

Richard Barnes relaxed in the back seat of a limousine. A forty-five carat diamond was in his pocket. He stretched out his long legs and yawned. The flight from Israel had been intolerably long. It left him drained. Having a terrible time keeping awake, Richard kept nodding off in the back seat, only to shake himself out of it and check his watch. He wanted to get back home hating the way things had been left off with Wendy.

This trip took him away before he felt he had a chance to rehash the conversation he had with her. What did Wendy mean it was ‘just not working’? Not working how? They got along fine.

It didn’t take a genius to work out it was either Keith or Peter that Wendy had set her sights on once again. This whole trip to the Middle East and Europe felt like a problem from start to finish. Beginning with the timing.

“How much further?” Richard asked the driver in Italian, who responded, ‘only five minutes.’ Richard sat back and sighed.

The villa outside the city of Rome was enormous. Greek columns and marble statues lined the grand entrance fronted by a reflecting pool. It reminded Richard of a smaller version of Hadrian’s Villa in Tivoli. A gardener was pruning the roses, and a horse and rider cantered in a fenced ring.

Before Richard even stepped out of the limousine he knew what to expect. He’d been there before. This client was Signora Ruth Valenche, a wealthy widow who adored visitors and insisted on dinner or at least wine and fruit, then idle chitchat, then the business at hand, then farewell. Richard checked his watch compulsively, he figured, four hours, less than three if he refused dinner.

The car door was opened for him. He straightened his stiff back and enjoyed the pleasant rhythm of hoof beats. Before Richard headed up to the main entrance, he made his way to the fence and watched the rider take a small jump, her long blonde hair flowing from beneath the black hard hat.

When the rider saw Richard, she came to a halt. The horse blew out and shifted from its exertion. Richard connected to the young girl’s gaze.

Oh, yes, aren’t you a lovely young thing. I’ll bet you’re not even sixteen. Richard smiled politely and bowed, then continued on to the house.

A servant showed him the way inside and bowed to the matriarch who was seated in her wheelchair. Though the woman appeared ancient, her eyes were intelligent and bright.

“Bon giorno, Signore Barnes.”

Richard bowed and kissed her hand. “Salve, Signora Valenche, come va?”

They communicated comfortably in Italian and Richard could tell it put her at ease at once. Signora Valenche offered Richard dinner like a well rehearsed play and he was about to refuse when the young rider appeared, carrying her hat and crop.

“Richard, this is my niece, Rachel.” The Signora confided, “She is like my own daughter and one day all of this will be hers.”

Rachel bent her knee politely and greeted Richard in the formal Italian.

Richard savored the look of this delicate flower, approaching her and taking her hand to kiss. “A pleasure to meet you as well.”

Rachel blushed and excused herself.

Unable to prevent it, Richard stared after her as she walked away in her tight britches.

“You will stay for dinner?” the Signora repeated her offer.

“Yes,” Richard replied, “I would very much like that.” He glanced back in the direction Rachel had disappeared.

“Ah, poor Richard. You were born too early for this young one. You have a son, perhaps? Equally as charming as their father?”

He laughed shyly. “Yes, two.”

“A match made in heaven.” She clapped her hands. “Come, let us sit in the garden and wait for dinner.” The Signora wheeled the chair out.

In the sunlight filtering through the tall swaying Cyprus trees, they sipped espresso coffee, nibbled biscotti, and talked easily together.

Richard kept peering over his shoulder periodically for Rachel. He didn’t see her again until they moved to the dining room and sat for their meal.

It was then the young rider was suddenly transformed into a princess in a lacy dress, with her hair pinned up on her head revealing her slender neck. The picture of purity and innocence. Richard knew if either one of his sons met her, that innocence would be gone in a matter of moments.

And it seemed as though Rachel couldn’t take her eyes off of Richard either. Richard imagined perhaps they rarely had visitors and that was why his presence appeared to enchant the young woman.

Even though Richard felt the overt attention was slightly rude, it was obvious Rachel couldn’t prevent herself.

Rachel stared at Richard as he ate, only turning away shyly when he returned the gaze.

When Richard reached for his wine glass, he caught eyes again with this young siren. She sent a silent message over to him that he could almost hear like spoken words. Did she want to touch him? No. No way.

Richard hated to admit he had similar ideas. All through dinner, Richard felt her eyes on him. He found it very endearing, and unfortunately, very exciting.

They finished the meal and Richard was invited to sit in a parlor for the business part of the evening. Rachel posed herself, standing by a brick mantel, toying with its knickknacks and miniature works of art.

Waiting for the right moment, Richard removed the gem from his pocket. He opened its soft cloth, rubbing it lovingly between his fingers, feeling its sensuous weight. “Signora, this is the finest gem I have ever set my eyes on. I’ve kept it close to my heart for the two loveliest ladies in all of Italy.” He pressed it to his chest and gave them each his best smile.

Rachel blushed to the ears while the Signora laughed. Richard cupped the precious gem and brought it to the wheelchair-bound woman.

The Signora put her glasses on and held out her hands steadily. They exchanged it like a robin’s egg.

Under bright light the Signora scrutinized the cut.

Richard peered back to see Rachel’s reaction. She was frozen where she was and her attention was glued to the Signora.

After a long pause the Signora smiled and lay the stone gently on her lap. “Richard, again you please me greatly.”

He exhaled and lowered his head modestly.

“Come here, sweet child,” the Signora called to Rachel. “Come see a marvel of God.”

Rachel walked over timidly and looked into the Signora’s lap.

“Take it in your hands. It will not burn you.” The Signora laughed.

“May I?” Richard offered. He picked up the diamond in its cloth, and handed it to Rachel himself.

“Oh no. What if I drop it?” Rachel shook her head, backing away.

“You won’t.” Very gently, Richard cupped one of his hands under Rachel’s and placed the diamond in her palm.

Her tiny hand trembling in his, Richard actually imagined taking the virginity of this fragile flower.

When Rachel raised her blue eyes up to meet his, they connected in a vibrating exchange which suddenly made Richard ashamed for his impure thoughts.

Wanting to stop the flow of energy between them, Richard backed away.

Rachel finally focused on the diamond. “It is magnificent.”

“Oh, it certainly is.” Richard admired her.

Shyness overcame Rachel and she returned the diamond to her aunt’s lap without looking at Richard.

“I will be right back.” The Signora wheeled out of the room.

When Richard and Rachel were alone there was a heavy silence between them.

Richard couldn’t look at Rachel any more. It was making him crazy and he was exhausted. His cock, however, didn’t seem ready to sleep. It kept thickening under his trousers every time he caught eyes with that angel. He ran his fingers back through his hair and caught her staring at him again. “Why do you look at me that way?”

Richard noticed Rachel’s throat move, like she swallowed for courage. When she floated across the room, staring up at his height, Richard was embarrassed at how rigid his cock became.

“Can you stay for a while?”

“Stay?” he asked. “But I have. I have stayed for dinner.”

“No. That’s not what I mean. I mean for a few days?”

It stunned him. “And what would be the purpose of my visit?”

Rachel peeked behind her first as if making sure they were still alone. “So, we can get better acquainted.”

Richard cupped her jaw in his fingertips. “I am old enough to be your father.”

“I don’t care how old you are. You’re like something I have dreamed of. I am drawn to you.”

Richard glanced up to the vaulted ceiling. “Oh, Lord help me.”

Rachel touched his chest, running her hand over the muscles under his starched shirt.

Richard’s body went berserk at her caress. He whispered, “Please, don’t do this.”

With a wicked smile Rachel replied, “I think you’re very exciting.”

Floored at how forward she was behaving, Richard gripped her wrist to stop her. “Uh, right. Maybe some other time.” He lowered her hand and began backing away from her.

At that moment, the Signora wheeled in and handed Richard an envelope. “Thank you, Richard. You made it such a pleasure.”

I have to get the fuck out of here. Richard took the envelope and tucked it into his jacket pocket, then kissed the Signora’s hand. “Always a pleasure to serve you, Signora.” He threw a kiss to Rachel who appeared about to cry.

The Signora escorted Richard to the front entrance.

“One day you must tell me about the girl. What is her full name and how you came to care for her.” Richard tried to make this sound casual.

“Her father sent her here when she was quite young. Her mother lives in the United States.” The Signora rolled her chair closer. “Her name is Rachel Renee Saunders.”

Richard registered the information and kissed her hand once again, waving good-bye. The chauffeur was there waiting for him with an opened door.

Unraveling his necktie, Richard reclined in back seat. He took out the envelope to count the money. Then it hit him. “Rachel Renee Saunders?” He sat up. “No! It can’t be!”

Chapter Twenty-four

Wendy drew Peter into an embraced as she stared down over the concrete geometric patterns of New York’s complex mass of skyscrapers. They were on the outside observation deck of the Empire State Building and even though it was early April the wind blew wickedly. Peter shied away from the fenced edges, leaning back and digging in his heels as Wendy coaxed him to the edge.

Wendy gestured to a telescope and popped a quarter into its slot. After she took a quick pan around she offered it to Peter to took take a look.

Peter shook his hair out of his eyes and bent down to see through the eyepiece. “Wow. There’s the Statue of Liberty.”

Wendy heard a metallic click and Peter stood and turned the telescope aside. “Get a good look at the statue?”

“Yup.”

Wendy held Peter’s hand and walked to the other side of the observation deck. “There’s Central Park, Peter.”

“Slow down, Wendy. It seems you want to race everywhere at once.”

She hugged and kissed his neck. “I’m just excited to share things with you.”

“Can we go back to the hotel?”

Catching that sensuous light in Peter’s eyes, Wendy replied, “Yes.”

“I know it sounds boring, but I just want to cuddle. I’ll miss not having you in my bed now. That was the first time I slept overnight with a woman, and I like it, very much.” He paused staring at her. “Do you love me?”

“Yes.” She tapped his nose with the tip of her index finger. “Come on, let’s go back to the hotel and get naked.” Wendy led them inside the building. They waited for the elevator which took them down halfway, then a second one dropped them to street level.

The ride down made Wendy’s ears pop. She tried to swallow to unplug them as the elevator settled on the ground level.

It was warmer and not nearly as windy on the sidewalks. Wendy dug through her purse for a brush and signaled Peter to step out of the pedestrian stream so she could tame his wild mass of waves. Patiently Peter leaned down as Wendy brushed his hair.

While she attended him, Wendy noticed people staring as they walked passed.

Peter straightened up and said, “Thanks, Mom,” grinning devilishly.

An older woman passing by said, “Isn’t that sweet?”

Not appreciating the comment in the least, Wendy went to boot him in the ass as he dodged away from her, laughing.

Though Wendy knew Peter was teasing her, it had made her very upset. How many times had her husband been mistaken for her father? Too many times.

“Wendy?” Peter grabbed her before she walked away in a huff. “I’m sorry. I was just kidding.” He kissed her passionately, obviously asking for forgiveness.

“Apology accepted.” Wendy held his hand and flagged down a taxi to give them a lift back to the hotel. She was trying not to think about that horrible loveless, sexless, marriage to that decrepit old man. He’s dead. Forget him.

They spent the last few hours in bed, snuggling. Wendy was just at a lovely sleepy stage, hovering over a nap when Peter again said, “Marry me, Wendy.”

Wendy opened her eyes, located his nipple, and sucked on it playfully, trying to distract him. There was no way in hell she would ever marry again so she didn’t want to answer his question. Wendy felt Peter exhale a deep sighed and noticed him staring at the ceiling. Oh well. Ya can’t please everyone. She snuggled into his neck and closed her eyes.

The drive home to Jersey was silent. The sky became overcast and it added to Peter’s sense of defeat.

Wendy drove to the school and placed the car in park. “I had a blast, Peter.”

“Will you marry me when I turn eighteen?”

“Peter…” She reached for his hands.

“It’s exactly six months away, will you wait?”

“Let’s just see what happens first. That’s a long time away and I—”

“Promise me.” He studied her eyes.

“Do you realize when I am fifty you’ll only be thirty-three?”

“And? So? When you’re one hundred I’ll be eighty-three. Will it matter then?” He grew angry.

“Peter, you don’t understand what it means to sacrifice your life for someone older.”

“And you do?” he asked.

“Yes!”

“Oh? Like how?” He sneered.

“Let’s just say I learned through experience, okay? Take my word for it. Marry someone your own age.” Suddenly it seemed like Wendy realized the impact on Peter of her words. She bit her lip and widened her eyes at him.

Peter was floored. “After what we just did? It meant so little to you? So, little you can brush me off? Just like that?” His body tensed. “You lied to me!”

“No, Peter. I didn’t mean it like that.” She grabbed him as if stopping him for running away.

“Christ! I’ve never felt more used. I’m just a stupid kid to you. A good fuck?”

“Peter!”

“Leave me the fuck alone.” He reached for his backpack and tried to open the car door.

“Wait! No!”

Peter got out.

Wendy ran around the car to him and gripped his leather sleeve in a strangle hold. When Peter faced her he couldn’t believe the hatred he felt for her.

“Peter, listen to me. I didn’t mean it as it sounded. I mean you are too good for me. You’ll meet a young woman and leave me. I’m afraid of what I feel for you, Peter. Of how much I really love you.” Her words sounded strangled in her throat.

“Well, I have an idea for you,” he snared through clenched teeth. “Go home and think. Think hard. If you believe that I’m the type to mess around on you and take off with a younger woman, then you’re right, it’s over. But when you realize that I really care about you, would do anything for you, would marry you now, yesterday, tomorrow, then you come back to me and never talk to me about age again. You got that?”

Tears filling her eyes, she nodded obediently.

Peter turned away, his hostility smoldering like a cloud in his head. I knew it! Fuck! Why do I do this to myself every fucking time? Used! I was fucking used again. Just like with Rose.

Peter battled the nightmare of pain that tore at his heart, and knew he couldn’t take much more.

Richard climbed out of a taxi cab in front of his ex-wife’s home, having come there straight from Newark Airport. His nerves were shot, he had jet-lag, but all he could think about was his son.

Richard already tried to call Wendy from a payphone at the airport, but there was no answer at her home. So that left Peter and Keith to confront. She’s cheating on me. I just fricken know it.

He paid the cab fare and gathering his belongings. Using his key, Richard came through the front door to find Louise in the process of making dinner. “Where’s Peter?”

“Class trip.” Louise never raised her eyes to him.

“Jackie?” Richard set his suitcase down.

Louise checked the clock. “At a friend’s house. She’s expected for dinner.” She stared at Richard for a minute. “Did you just fly in now?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you stop at your place first?”

“I wanted to make sure Peter was okay.”

“You could have called.”

“Louise, please. Don’t start.” Richard rubbed his eyes. “Where’s Keith?”

Louise gave Richard an exasperated glance, put down the paring knife she had in her hand and headed down the hall to her bedroom.

Richard watched her curiously. “Was it something I said?”

“No. Hang on.” When she returned, Louise handed him a note.

Having no idea what this was all about, Richard read it as Louise went back to making a salad. “When the hell did this happen? Damn it, Louise, you have no control over these kids!”

She slammed down the knife and shouted, “If you think you can waltz in here after your trip to Israel and Europe and accuse me of not being a responsible parent, there’s the door. Get out!”

Richard didn’t have the energy for the debate. He sighed and stared back at the note again. “What band? Where? Who the hell are these people and how did they find out about Keith?”

“I don’t know. Peter seems to know a little. Ask him when he gets in.” She checked the clock again. “I expect him any minute as well. I’m so damn tired of worrying about Keith, Richard. He’s nearly twenty. It’s time he learned from his own mistakes.” She swiped her unruly hair back from her forehead with her forearm.

“A rock band.” Richard shook his head. “Too much drugs. Why that?” He dreaded Keith being involved in that lifestyle, visualizing Keith’s appealing looks. Richard shuddered at what would become of him.

At the noise of a key turning in the front door, Richard raised his head to Peter coming into the house.

“Dad?” Peter gasped. “I didn’t see your car.”

“I took a cab.” Keith’s letter still dangled from his hand, Richard approached Peter.

“How was your trip, honey?” Louise asked.

“Uh, fine.” Peter tried to slip away.

“Where did you go?” Richard moved closer to him.

“Silver Lake.” Peter took another step to the staircase.

“Really? I went there when I was in high-school but not until June. Sit down and tell me about it.” Richard gestured to the couch, setting the letter from Keith aside.

“I…I’d like to change first.”

“You have a minute.” Richard tugged Peter’s arm to sit Peter on the couch with him.

Peter placed his backpack down and sat slouched over his knees.

“So, who won, red or blue?” Richard asked.

“What?”

“The teams. Don’t they still have two teams competing all weekend?”

“Oh, yeah. The blue.”

“Your team?”

“Uh, yeah, it was.” Peter wouldn’t make eye contact with him.

“Good job.” Richard shook Peter’s shoulder roughly. “I remember that trip. Was it too cold to swim?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you have nighttime panty raids?” Richard grinned.

“Uh, yeah.”

“A bonfire?”

“Sure, Dad.” Peter rose to his feet.

“Meet any new girls there? I met a few,” Richard confided. “Was sneaking into the woods all weekend. Ended up with poison ivy on my butt.”

Peter chuckled.

“I’m happy for you.” Richard stood next to him and held Peter around the waist. “I’m glad you had fun.” He smiled at Peter and checked him over. “Hey, new shoes?”

Instantly Louise poked her head in the living room.

“Uh, no Dad, I’ve had these.” Peter fidgeted.

“And jacket?” Richard tugged on it. “Let me try it on.”

Peter handed his father his jacket, crossing his arms over his chest.

Richard slipped the jacket on and admired it. “It fits. Christ, you’re getting as big as your old man.” Richard nudged Peter playfully. “It looks very expensive. Louise? How much did you pay for this?”

“Uh No. Dad I bought it.”

Louise wiped her hands on a towel and came over to see it. “When did you buy this, Peter? You didn’t have it with you before the trip.” She touched the soft leather. “I meant to get him a new one after the one he had was stolen from him. I just haven’t had a chance.”

Richard took a better look at his son’s attire. “Are you kidding me? Are those really Manolo Blahnik shoes?” Richard touched Peter’s back pocket. “And new slacks? When did you go shopping? There are no stores in the woods at Silver Lake.”

Peter’s cheeks turned crimson.

“Peter.” Richard’s tone changed drastically. He removed the jacket and checked the tag and lining. “Where did you get the money to buy this? I bet it was extremely expensive. What? Five hundred?”

“How much?” Louise choked. “How much was the jacket, Peter?”

Peter pouted. “I didn’t go to Silver Lake.”

“What?” Louise gasped.

Richard was about to explode. Draping the jacket on a chair, he coaxed Peter to sit on the couch again.

Peter obeyed reluctantly. Richard waited in an irritated silence.

“I was with a girl all weekend. I’m sorry I lied. I knew you would never let me go.”

“What girl?” Richard could hardly say it fast enough.

Peter didn’t answer.

Richard grabbed Peter by his shirt collar and jerked him up to his feet roughly.

Louise panicked and tried to separate them.

Peter appeared astonished at his reaction.

“Who, Peter? What girl?” Richard showed his teeth, twisting Peter’s collar tighter, choking him.

Peter opened his mouth but nothing came out.

Louise began intervening, yanking at Richard’s arms. “I detest this violence. Richard, let him go. You know very well ‘what girl’.” Louise was able to get Richard’s grip off Peter.

“You do?” Peter asked, “How?”

“It was her, wasn’t it?” Richard growled, glaring at Peter.

“Who?”

“Wendy,” Richard spat the name out like it was too bitter to hold in.

“What if it was?” Peter replied.

Louise tried to cup her hand over Richard’s mouth.

“That little lying slut!” Richard snarled in rage.

Peter flinched as if he was struck.

“She promised me she wouldn’t see you again She swore to me it was over. Who seduced who this time? When did you start seeing her again?”

Peter started backing away.

Richard stopped talking and spun back to see Louise’s expression of pain and disappointment. Louise appeared like a ghost. Pure white.

Richard turned back to Peter. “No. Peter wait.” Richard’s breathing quickened. “I…I…” Richard tried to explain the unexplainable.

The phone rang scaring them. Richard jumped and Peter grabbed his heart.

Louise hurried to get it, keeping an eye on Peter at the same time. “Keith? Where are you? Are you all right?”

Hearing it was Keith, Richard took a deep breath as Louise pumped Keith for information.

“Where? Chicago? When will you be back? Uh huh. I see. You like it? Who’s with you? I mean, who is watching over you? Terry? Oh, that’s nice, darling. How much? Okay, I’ll watch for it in the mail and put in into your account. Of course. Sure.”

Richard grew impatient, gesturing for the phone, tapping his foot, crossing his arms.

Like a silent sentry, Peter watched him.

“Your father’s here, he wants to speak to you…Richard, Keith said he doesn’t want to talk to you.”

Richard grabbed the phone out of her hand angrily. “Keith? Listen, are you all right?”

“Yeah, Dad.”

“Good. Now watch the drugs, will ya? I know what—”

“Dad, lay off. I’m fine.”

“Just be careful you—”

“Dad! I’m fine! Will ya get over it?”

“Only as long as you let us know where you are.”

“Are ya mad?”

“No, I’m not mad. How did you find out about the job?”

“Steve, Wendy’s maid.”

“Steve? Oh, right. I see.”

“Are you going to kill him now?”

“No, it’s all right. Just watch your ass.”

“Can I talk to Mom again?”

“Yeah, hold on.” Richard handed Louise the phone and walked over to the couch. He dropped down heavily with his hands on his lap, his fingers making shape of a steeple.

Louise said good-bye, hung up, and stood still as if she were absorbing the conversation. She walked back to the kitchen counter.

Almost completely forgotten, Peter cleared his throat.

Richard rested his face in his hands.

Peter stood over him. “If I ask you a question, will I get an honest answer?”

Richard glared at Peter, but didn’t respond.

“Did you—or should I say—are you dating Wendy?”

Richard lowered his head and said nothing.

When Peter started walking away Richard said, “Look, Pete, it was— She didn’t know I was your father. I met her in New York when she brought a diamond in to be appraised. How were we to know?”

“And now? After I was in the hospital. You knew then.” Peter’s voice started growing in volume. “Did you warn her not to see me? Huh? How dare you make those decisions for me?”

Richard stood quickly and confronted Peter. “She’s old enough to be your damn mother and you’re too young and too stupid to know what choices to make.”

“You just want her for yourself. You think I can’t see that?”

Louise slammed down the ceramic bowl and it smashed on the counter top. “Stop it! Stop this immediately!”

At the noise, Richard turned to her in surprise.

“I swear I’ll kill this woman for what she’s done to both of you.”

Peter grabbed his jacket and backpack and headed for the door.

Richard held him back. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Peter jerked away and opened the front door. Richard caught Peter by the shoulder and they struggled with one another.

Louise ran over and tried to pull them apart, shouting at them. “Stop it!”

Jackie stopped short on the front walkway. “Oh, no. Dad! Peter! Stop!”

“You little brat!” Richard would not relent his grip on Peter. “You’re not too old for a beating!”

“Go ahead! I’m used to being your punching bag!” Peter trembled. “Beat me all you want. I’ll still get her in the end. She loves me. Not you.” Peter pushed Richard with all his strength and broke free.

Richard lunged after him, but Louise held Richard back. “The neighbors will call the police, Richard! Calm down!”

“Go!” Richard shook his fist at Peter. “Go! Run to her! But, I’ll get there first! Go! Run!”

Peter turned around to glare at him. “You’re pathetic!” Sprinting away, Peter practically knocked Jackie over where she stood as he went into the garage, Richard assumed, for his bicycle.

Richard scooted Louise aside, searching frantically for his car keys, then he realized he didn’t drive his car there. “Shit! Louise, give me the keys to your car.”

Jackie snuck inside the house and hid in a corner of the living room.

Louise returned to the kitchen and started cleaning up the broken bowl.

Ready to explode, Richard held out his hand impatiently. “The keys. Now.”

“Forget it, Richard.” Louise dumped the ceramic shards into the garbage.

Richard slammed his fist into the counter top violently.

Jackie gasped and ran up the staircase.

“I’ll not play games with you. Give me the keys.”

“You know damn well if you hit me, Richard, the restraining order will be restored and…” She glared at him, “you’ll be in a jail cell.”

Oh, he knew. He was aware of the same thing. One night in the county jail was quite enough for him.

Richard struggled to calm down. “You want him to go to her? A thirty-five year old slut with your virgin son?”

Louise flinched.

“Give me the keys.” Richard’s patience was wire thin. “She’ll fuck him again, Louise. Can’t you see what she’ll do to him? To our precious seventeen year old boy? Louise! Give me the damn keys!”

Louise bit her lip, fighting back tears. “I don’t want Wendy to have Peter, but I don’t want you and Peter to argue anymore.” Louise dabbed at her eyes. “You’re too violent with him. If I let you go it’ll be a disaster. What’s worse?” She began to sob.

Richard closed his eyes and inhaled a deep breath to calm himself. “Louise, dear, I won’t fight him. I just want to straighten them out. Talk some sense into them.” He took a step closer to touch Louise’s arm.

Louise gasped in panic and pushed Richard’s jacket off his shoulder.

“What?” Richard glanced down to see Louise had exposed the shoulder holster he was wearing.

“I thought they took away your permit when you went to jail. What on earth do you have that for?”

“It was reinstated after I completed the courses. Louise, I carry very expensive gems in New York City.”

“Take it off.” She pointed to it. “I don’t want you near Peter while you’re wearing it.”

“Why? Do you think I’m going to kill my own son?” Richard opened his jacket.

“Yes.” She shivered visibly. “Why are you wearing that in this house?”

“I just got off the plane, Louise. I picked it up in a locker at the airport. You know I always wear it when I head back to the city. Will you take it easy?”

“Take it off now!”

“Sure.” He held up his hands in surrender. Richard removed the gun from its holster, unloaded it, then unbuckled the shoulder strap, setting all of it on the counter top. “The keys.” He reached out his hand.

“What will you do? What will you say? I want to come. I don’t trust—”

“Louise, look, this is her fault. Not Peter’s. It’s easy for a young boy to fall prey to a pretty older woman. She’s the problem, he’s not. Am I right?”

She nodded.

“Well, then. Peter’s got nothing to worry about. I just want to put some reason into their heads. Is that all right with you?”

“No violence. Promise?”

“You think I want to end up in jail again? Are you insane? You have my word.” He crossed his heart and gave her his most charming smile.

“They’re in my purse. Over there.”

“Thank you.”

Peter peddled his bike as fast as he could. His new shoes caused his legs to ache and his backpack jarred his back. Every car that passed him gave him a coronary. After pumping for fifteen minutes, he was in the home stretch. With one last burst of energy, Peter rode the final five blocks like his very life depended on it. He had to get there first, had to.

When Peter arrived at Wendy’s house he did a flying dismount. He threw his bike into the shrubs, raced up the steps, and pounded his fists on the door, shouting for her. His breathing was so labored, his ribs ached, and his heart was in his throat. He looked back in paranoia at every car, his recently healed side causing him miserable pain. Peter pounded the door again shouting, “Answer! Answer!” The dogs were going wild inside.

Peter moved to the window pane, and began hammering it as well. “Wendy!” he yelled.

Lancelot bared his teeth and barked angrily through the window.

The door finally opened and Peter pushed passed Steve who had a towel wrapped around his hips.

“Hang on!” Steve grabbed Peter’s jacket. “What’s the idea? It sounded like the door was caving in. What’s wrong?”

“Where’s Wendy?” Peter gasped for breath.

“Upstairs, but—”

“Don’t let my father in, whatever you do!” Peter took the stairs two by two, the three dogs at his heels.

The light was on in Wendy’s studio. Peter crashed through the door to see Wendy standing at her easel with an elevated paintbrush.

“Peter?” Wendy asked in surprise.

A strange man was posing nude for her and covered his dick instinctively.

“Wendy!” Peter hurried to her, then took a second look at the man. “Who’s that?” he snarled angrily.

“Peter, it’s Steve’s friend Bret.”

“Is that a fact?” Peter threw down his pack and advance angrily, ready to fight.

“Oh shit. Dude, I’m nude.” Bret glimpsed up at Peter nervously.

Wendy grabbed Peter’s arm. “It’s Steve’s boyfriend! Get it?”

“Oh yeah? Well—” Peter stopped to think about it just as Steve appeared, still in a towel, at the doorway. “Oh.” Peter stared at Bret and then Steve. “Are you painting them together naked?”

“Yes.” Wendy put her brush into a jar of liquid. “What is it, Peter? What’s wrong?”

For a moment, Peter almost forgot why he came. “My father.”

“Oh no.”

“He’s on his way over, and boy, is he pissed.”

“You didn’t tell him we went to New York, did you?” Wendy looked sick.

“He figured it out. And Wendy, he said you dated him too. Is that true?”

The dogs ran down the stairs howling at the pounding on the door. Bret fidgeted nervously. “Christ. Should I get dressed? What the hell’s going on?”

“Crap.” Steve headed down the staircase. “Guess who?”

“Oh, shit! Shit! Shit!” Wendy panicked. “Bret, tell Steve not to answer the door.” Bret nodded and ran down the stairs.

“Wendy, is it true?” Peter held Wendy still.

“It doesn’t matter, Peter. I love you and no one else.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “He’s going to kill me. Oh God.” She trembled and appeared lost.

Peter felt ice in his veins. “Please. Don’t tell me you slept with my dad.” Peter heard the commotion downstairs and died.

“I have an idea. Peter. Are you in?” She looked wild.

“What choice do I have?”

“Good. Let’s do it.”

Richard’s knuckles were bruised he was pounding the door so hard. He looked through the window and saw a naked stranger run by, then Lancelot appeared, biting at the glass.

“Shit!” Richard jumped back in fright. He resumed his slamming on the door until it finally opened a crack.

Steve peered out, smiling. “Yes?”

“Where’s Wendy? Is Peter here?” Richard used his shoulder to push at the door.

“No.” Steve stifled a laugh.

“I know they’re in there. Open this damn door.”

Steve went hysterical with laughter and turned to something behind his back.

Richard became irate. “Open this goddamn door, Steve, or I’ll break it down.”

As if he were playing a game of hide and seek, Steve poked his head out again. “You don’t want to come in here, Richard.”

Richard knew Steve was attempting to look serious, until he burst out laughing again. It exasperated Richard. “Yes. I do. What the hell is going on in there?”

“Uh. Oh my. Wait a moment.” Steve turned around to whisper over his shoulder, then laughed wildly.

Having no idea what he was dealing with and no patience left, Richard rubbed his face tiredly. “You’re all on drugs. What on earth are you doing?” With more determination, Richard leaned on the door, but it wouldn’t budge.

Steve grinned like a demon. “Some of what I got would do you a world of good, Richard,” he said and then gasped and jumped as if he’d been goosed from behind.

Steve’s abrupt reaction startled Richard. Richard tried to spy over Steve’s shoulder. “Listen, Steve, buddy, let me in, okay, pal?”

“Am I your ‘pal’?” Steve smiled, then flinched again.

It was obvious to Richard someone was playing with Steve from behind. Richard tried to see in but the door was only open a crack. He could tell Steve was naked, at least from the waist up. “Yeah, sure, I’m you’re my pal, Steve, a real pal.”

“Richard, I’m so flattered. Kiss me and I’ll open the door.”

“Do what?” Richard recoiled involuntarily.

“That’s the secret password. Kiss, kiss!” Steve laughed, gasped, jumped, and swatted at something behind him, before he gave his attention back to Richard. “Want in? Pucker up.” Steve made kissing noises at him.

“I’ll pucker you up.” Richard drew back as if to punch him.

“Uh uh! That won’t get you in. That will get you locked out for sure.”

Richard was at his wit’s end, running his hand back through his hair, and grinding his teeth in frustration. “This is absurd. Get out of the way. You’re as high as a kite.” Once again Richard pushed at the door, but it was immovable.

Steve started to taunt him with ridiculous kissing noises, then Steve laughed hysterically.

Richard was so furious he was losing it. He crossed his arms angrily. “Are they in there?”

“Uh huh.” Steve grinned wickedly.

“Will you let me in?”

“Uh, uh, not without the password.” Steve jumped and swatted behind him again.

“Christ! You’re sick. You don’t seriously expect me to kiss you.” In complete paranoia, Richard turned to look at the dark street behind him.

“Yes. I seriously expect you to kiss me to get in this house. Those are the terms of the agreement.” Steve’s expression became a parody of stern.

Although the very idea revolted him, Richard covered his mouth and tried to gear himself up for this one. “You realize I’m going to kill someone.”

“Now, now. Temper! Temper! Kiss me, don’t kill me,” Steve mocked.

Richard stole another glance behind him. No one was in sight. He scrubbed his coarse jaw tiredly. “Why is everything in my life so complicated?”

“No. It’s simple. Kiss me and the door opens. What could be easier? And with tongue it’s even better.”

Wincing at the thought, Richard moved closer to Steve and pointed a warning finger in his face. “I want a promise from you. After I…” he swallowed distastefully, “kiss you, you will open the door.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“Jesus Christ,” Richard moaned in agony, then turned back around to scan the area one last time. He took a few deep intakes of breath and said once more, “Promise.”

Grinning, nodding like a madman, Steve poked his head out.

Richard began to feel butterflies in his stomach as he tried to handle this absurdity with some of his dignity left intact. He leaned closer and held his breath, then he went for it.

The door flew open and a flash of light blinded Richard. He straightened up instantly and blinked in horror. Another naked man was there with a camera. The two men were laughing hysterically as the dogs danced around them in chaotic circles.

Richard entered the house slowly, staring at the Steve who could not contain his hilarity.

“Oh, that was beautiful, Bret!” Steve held his side and wiped his tears.

“I got it! I really got it!” Bret clutched an instant camera. “Beautiful. Just beautiful.”

Richard felt like an idiot.

Steve still going into a giggling spurt occasionally, Steve gazed at Richard, making his face a mask once more. Steve put his arm around Richard’s shoulder as if confiding in Richard. “You are one hell of a kisser. You have soft supple lips. I’d give anything for some more of them.”

Richard was completely bewildered as Steve led him to the den.

“You must drive the women wild with those.” Steve enticed Richard to sit on the sofa, but Richard didn’t.

Bret came in behind them and closed the den door, standing like a guard in front of it.

Richard gazed around the room. There where several empty shot glasses and bottles of strong alcohol on the coffee table.

“Richard, you’re perfect. Look at you.” Steve filled a glass with Scotch and handed it to him. “I wish you were gay. I would give anything for a night with you.”

Taking the glass in numb fingers, Richard said, “You’ve lost your mind.”

Steve held back another belly laugh. “I did. But that was years and years ago. I stopped looking for it. Can I kiss you again?” Steve reached for Richard, digging his hands into Richard’s hair.

“No.” Richard leaned back from him. “Why are you both naked?”

“We’re too pretty to cover up.” Steve opened his arms wide as if showing off.

Richard chocked and avoided staring at Steve’s big limp dick and dangling balls.

Bret asked Richard, chuckling, “Have you ever been naked?”

“Holy Christ.” Richard downed the Scotch and Steve refilled his empty glass quickly. “Who the hell are you?”

“Bret Johnson. Nice to meet you.” He reached out his hand.

Before he accepted it Richard looked at it at first. “Where the hell’s it been?”

“No where yet.”

Richard shook it.

“Oh, sorry. I take that back. I touched Steve’s ass when he was answering the door. So? Do I get a kiss hello too?” Bret leaned in.

Richard shook off the contact in disgust and wiped his hand on his slacks. “Don’t push your luck.”

“Sit. Sit. Relax.” Steve sweet-talked Richard to the couch once more and physically sat him down. “I bet you were a real ladies’ man in your twenties. Am I right?”

Richard gulped the second shot of alcohol and licked his lips after. “I had my share.”

“Oh, I’ll bet you did,” Bret said.

Richard rested his feet up on the coffee table. “I could tell you a few stories. But I won’t.”

“Aw, come on. A stud like you?” Steve snuggled up next to him and kept refilling Richard’s empty glass.

“A stud.” Richard chuckled. “Maybe in my twenties.”

“I bet you were voted best looking boy in high-school.” Bret sat on the opposite side as Richard on the couch.

“I was.” Richard smiled, recalling it. “Top athlete. Prom king. The works.”

“Mm.” Steve slid closer. “Love that. Tell us more.”

Naked and on his sixth glass of Scotch, Richard peered down at the hair on his legs and laughed. The three dogs were asleep on the floor.

“Are you enjoying yourshelf, Richard?” Steve slurred and dribbled as he drank his own shot of booze.

“I hate to admit I haven’t been naked much. It’s ‘unusual’ for me.” When Steve leaned against Richard’s shoulder heavily, Richard forced him back. “I said I’m naked not gay. Just incredibly drunk.”

“You have no idea what you’re missing, Richie.” Steve circled his finger on Richard’s shoulder.

“Richie,” Bret giggled and gave Richard a silly grin. “More Shosh, Richie?”

“More what?” Richard could barely see.

“Shosh.” Bret managed to hoist the bottle and refill everyone.

“What the fuck do you see in each other?” Richard looked from one man to the other.

“Don’t try to rashinal. Rashonal— be rude. Which is it? Oh, just figure it out.” Steve rested his jaw on Richard’s shoulder.

A wave of intoxication washed over Richard. He dropped his head on the back of the couch and closed his eyes, attempting to focus his mind. “Oh, that just makes it worse.” He sat up and opened his eyes as he started to feel a sensation of spinning.

The phone rang. Steve stared at it. The dogs perked their ears from their naps. “Phone’s ringing,” Steve announced proudly.

“Ring, ring,” Richard replied.

Steve stumbled off the couch to crawl on his knees towards it. “Hello?” He held it out to Richard. “It’s someone named Louise. Are you here?”

Richard reacted with bitterness and shot down his drink. “No. Tell her you don’t know me. Got her car.” He winked at Bret.

Trying very hard to speak clearly, Steve said, “No, sorry, Weezie, he ne’er schlowed up here.”

Suddenly elected as the bearer of the booze, Bret refilled Richard’s glass again, spilling some on Richard’s lap. Bret placed the bottle down carefully and tried to wipe off the liquid.

Distracted at first by the phone conversation, Richard then stared down at Bret’s fingers as they ran over his naked thigh.

Bret met Richard’s eyes and giggled, “Turning you on?”

“She says you are here and she wants her car.” Steve held out the receiver.

“Oh, fer cryin’ out loud. Give it to me.” Richard reached out for it in irritation. “What is it?”

“Richard. What happened with Peter? Did you see him?”

“No, I never talked to him. Stop nagging me.”

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk. Well, maybe a bit.” He rolled his eyes and covered the phone so he could mimic her without her hearing. Richard ignored Louise and focused on the two men chatting for a moment.

Steve looked down at Richard’s anatomy. “Tempting you?” he asked Bret.

“Sorely. He’s very nicely built for an older man.”

“Older?” Steve slapped Bret playfully. “You dipshit. He’s probably in his mid-thirties.”

Richard smiled to himself. Forty, boys, forty. Nice. Coming back to Louise’s tirade, and in no mood for her accusations, Richard said, “Fine. Come get your car. I’m not driving it.” He handed the phone to Steve. “Hang this up. I’ve no patience for her.”

As Steve did he said, “Geez Louise.”

“Why are you looking at my dick? It’s not available.” Richard edged Bret back a few inches. “I like women. What the fuck’s wrong with the two of you?”

“We like men.” Bret shot him a toothy grin.

Staring from one set of hazy eyes to the other, Richard did think both Bret and Steve were attractive, but would never dream of saying so. They obviously had a regular weight lifting program and were as fit and well defined as he was. “What don’t you like about women?”

Attempting to cozy up, Bret leaned on Richard’s shoulder. “I don’t know.”

Steve said, “They don’t have dicks.”

Richard began laughing.

The other two men stopped to watch him. “God, you’re gorgeous.” Bret touched him.

“Think so?” Richard was very surprised. “You think I look thirty-something? Really?”

Steve winked at Bret. “Oh, yes. You’re the best looking man we’ve ever seen.”

Bret said, “Absolutely gorgeous. You don’t look a day over thirty.”

Richard smiled. “Oh, cut it out, Bret. I heard you a moment ago. ‘Older man’?”

“I love older men,” Bret replied.

Just before he acknowledged the comment, Richard suddenly realized he’d been duped. “Holy fuck. I know what you’re doing.”

“Is it working?” Steve grabbed Richard by his thighs and smiled impishly.

“Look, even if I wanted to, I’m so fucking drunk I couldn’t get it up.”

“You want to?” Bret gasped.

“No! I said even if.” Richard checked his watch. “Okay. You got me. Just tell me one thing. Is Peter here?”

“No.” Steve grinned wickedly.

“Where is he?”

“Far, far away,” Steve sang.

“You realize you’re responsible for both my boys being gone.”

“Me?” Steve pressed his fingers into his own chest. “I should say not.”

“You got Keith into with band, didn’t you?”

“Oh that. I thought you meant… Uh. Never mind. The band. Yes. I may have introduced him to Terry Jones, but, um.” Steve winced. “You pissed at me now?”

“No, at least it’s employment. I thought I would be supporting that one forever. I just don’t want him to do drugs.”

“Well, maybe just a line of coke now and then.” Steve stretched out his long legs, admiring them next to Richard’s.

“Coke? Oh that’s just great.”

“Don’t worry.” Steve tried to calm Richard down. “He’s under a watchful eye. Terry is very much in love with him.”

“Oh? Is she?” Richard felt relieved at the news.

“Yes! She is!” Steve smiled and nodded with conviction, then winked at Bret.

The dogs woke and bolted to the sound of someone at the front door.

Richard stared from Steve to Bret and they all said, “Louise,” simultaneously.

With help, Steve managed to get to his feet and stumbled out of the room.

Richard could only imagine her reaction when a naked man answered the door. He hid his smile under his hand and heard Louise shout, “What in God’s name is going on?”

“Don’t get me involved,” Steve replied, returning to the den.

Her mouth open in shock, Louise entered the room and gasped, “Richard!”

“Louise!” he mimicked.

“You’re naked!”

“You’re Einstein!”

Bret and Steve broke up with laughter.

“My God. You’re all drunk. A fine example you must have been to your son.”

“I told you I didn’t see him.” Richard was already tired of the wrangling. “You see?” He tapped Bret and pointed at her.

“S’why I like men.” Bret shrugged.

“I need my keys, Richard.” Louise stomped her foot and looked towards the ceiling.

“They’re in my pants. Somewhere.” Richard scanned around the room.

“Your behavior is unbelievable.” Louise dug through a mound of clothing.

“How did you get here?” Richard asked her.

“Sally drove me. Are these your pants?” Louise held up a pair of jeans.

“No, I was in work clothing, remember?”

Bret stared down at the pile on the floor. “I think you took them off in the kitchen.”

Louise said, “Well, get them!”

“What a screech.” Richard cringed.

“Hang on. Hang on.” Steve scuffed his feet towards the kitchen and came back with a pair of slacks. “They were on top of the table.” He chuckled.

Not amused, Louise grabbed them and searched the pockets. She found her keys and dropped the slacks on the floor. “I’m very glad they’re both away from you.” Louise tensed up and spoke in a low restrained voice.

“Woooo!” Steve and Bret mocked her.

Infuriated, she turned and left.

Steve walked her out. “Bye, Louise!”

Bret put his arm around Richard’s shoulder. “My condolences.”

“Great. Thanks.” Richard finished another glass of Scotch.

Steve appeared at the doorway and stared at them. “Well, boys? We have the whole night ahead of us. Shall we hit the bars?”

Richard toyed with his empty glass. “You mean we have to get civilized?”

“I knew you would like being naked.” Bret grabbed Richard’s muscular thigh.

“Naked. Not gay.” Richard removed it. “Fine. Where to?”

Peter was so freaked out he was sick to his stomach. He allowed Wendy to make all the decisions when his father showed up at her house. Now he was regretting it.

“Wendy?” The old woman in a wheelchair raised her head from her book.

“Hello, Ruth.” Wendy entered the room while Peter peeked out from behind her back.

“I know I should have called you first to let you know I was coming. It was kind of spur of the moment. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Ruth took off her reading glasses and appeared to regain her composure. “Yes, all right. It is all right. Come, sit down. Are you hungry?”

This whole trip petrified Peter. He felt lost imagining what his mother and father were going with him vanishing. It was like a bad dream; getting a trip visa from one of Wendy’s shifty friends, racing down the terminal to the plane, taking off for Rome without anything but his backpack. No cash. No courage, and no common sense, he was totally dependent on Wendy and feared everything he left behind.

In this garish parlor of a house as big as a museum, with an old lady in a wheelchair who spoke English with a thick accent, (and was obviously not happy they had arrived unexpectedly,) Peter was about to puke.

A servant came in and Ruth asked him to prepare a light meal.

Wendy said, “Peter, this is my sister-in-law, Signora Ruth Valenche. Ruth, this is Peter, a good friend of mine.”

The old woman inspected Peter with a suspicious eye.  Peter felt her disdain and flinched. Maybe Signora Ruth knew of Wendy’s appetite for younger men.

“It’s been rather hectic,” Wendy tried to explain. “And it’s been ages since I have seen Rachel. I could try and find a hotel in the morning, if you’d rather we didn’t stay here.”

“It is not a problem that you are here. There is plenty of room. Look, your meal is ready.” Ruth nodded as a tray of fruit and cheese was set down on a coffee table.

Wendy thanked the servant for the wine and made sure Peter had his own glass.

Peter stared at the food with nausea. He didn’t have much of an appetite. “Can I use the phone to call my mother?”

At the request, Ruth frowned. “Did his family not know you’ve taken such a young boy away? I am ashamed of you.”

“No. It’s nothing like that.” Wendy rifled through her purse. “Here, use my calling card.”

“There is a telephone in the den.” The Signora pointed.

Peter thanked her and as he left the room he heard Wendy say, “Don’t even say it, Ruth.”

“How old is he?”

“Please. Just let it be.”

Pausing, Peter cringed and closed his eyes, eavesdropping from behind the wall.

“Wendy, what on earth are you doing?”

“I have no idea.”

Fucking great. I am so stupid. Peter sat on the arm of a leather chair and picked up the phone. He tried to decipher the instructions on the back of Wendy’s calling card and couldn’t. He gave up and dialed the operator, struggling with her Italian. “Yes. America. No, North America, the United States. Yes, thank you.”

Butterflies flapping in his gut, Peter waited as he was connected to an American operator. “Collect call please, from Peter.” He gave the operator his phone number and checked his watch. It was still on New Jersey time.

At the sound of his mother’s voice, Peter felt a lump in his throat. “Mom. I’m in Rome with Wendy Saunders.”

“What? Rome? Peter, tell me you’re joking!”

“No. I’m not.”

“Where in Rome? How can I contact you?”

Peter gave her the number that was on the phone he was using, then tried to justify missing school and this insanity. “Please promise you won’t tell Dad.” His heart sank when he heard her cry. The guilt tore at him. “I’ll call you soon.” He hung up on her questions feeling very alone and empty. Never had he been dependent on anyone other than his parents. And to add to that, he would have to make up for the school he was missing. Again. It was all too much. “What the hell am I doing here?”

Peter slumped over, the calling card limp in his hand.

“Chi e’?”

He spun around to see a pretty young girl around his age standing at the doorway. He shrugged. “I don’t speak Italian.”

“Who are you?” She moved closer to him.

“My name is Peter. I came here with Wendy.”

She gasped, “Mother?”

“Mother?” Peter almost passed out.  He stood up, towering over her petite frame. It didn’t matter how much bigger Peter was, the inspection the girl gave him made him nervous.

“Where is my mother?”

“In the kitchen with the old woman.”

She reacted angrily. “That is Signora Valenche to you!”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.” The only resemblance this girl had to Wendy was her coloring, blonde hair and blue eyes. Her features were more refined and delicate. A contrast from Wendy’s bold striking beauty. This angel’s hair was straight and fell passed her shoulders. Peter caught a fragrance from her, like she was fresh from a shower.

“Are you staying with us?”

“Yes, I think so. What’s your name?”

“Rachel. I should go say hello to mother.”

Rachel. That’s right. Christ, I expected a toddler. Peter followed Rachel to the kitchen, curious to see what Wendy’s reaction would be at the mother/daughter reunion.

It was less than enthusiastic. They barely pecked each other’s cheek.

“You look well,” Wendy said, “How are your studies going?”

“She is doing marvelous,” Ruth replied. “I am very proud of her.”

“Good.” Wendy resumed her eating.

Ruth said, “I’ll have a servant prepare rooms for you.”

“Goodnight, Mother.” Rachel helped Ruth wheel out. “Goodnight, Peter.”

Peter was happy Rachel acknowledged him and smiled brightly. “Night.”

“Eat something, Peter.” Wendy pushed the platter of food at him when the other two had left the room. “What did your Mom have to say?”

After giving her back her calling card, Peter sipped a glass of wine. “She isn’t thrilled, losing two sons in one week.”

“Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”

Yeah, right. Peter gazed at the empty hallway and felt the exact opposite.

Chapter Twenty-five

“Oh, my aching head,” Richard moaned. Pain connected the space between his ears. Shading his eyes from the morning glare coming through the blinds, Richard peered around timidly. He had no idea where he was. There was a warm body lying next to him in bed. Richard leaned back to see who it was. He inspected the thick make-up of a very odd looking woman. “Oh, Christ,” he sighed in disgust, then climbed off the mattress, kicking over empty beer bottles.

He held his forehead in agonizing pain and stood still. “Where the hell am I?” With his eyes opened to slits, Richard had a look at the carnage. Bodies were scattered around the place in various stages of disarray. Finally, he found Steve and Bret sleeping in each others’ arms on a sofa bed.

Richard was bewildered. The scene appeared the aftermath of battle, definitely lost. He stepped over people and piles of clothing to where he thought he remembered a bathroom to be. When he turned on the light, its brightness nearly killed him.

“Holy crap.” He covered his eyes and tried to settle his upset stomach and throbbing head. Through half-closed lids, Richard aimed his dick at the toilet and started to pee, almost jumping out of his skin to see a man sleeping in the bathtub. “Jesus! What the hell is this place?”

Richard leaned on the sink and splashing cold water on his face. He looked into the mirror and cringed. “Oh, Barnes, you look like hell. You bloody old fool.” After investigating the medicine cabinet, he found some toothpaste and rubbed it over his teeth, rinsing his mouth, guzzling the water thirstily from the tap.

Richard struggled to keep his balance with the help of the walls. He wandered back to the bedroom and searched for his clothing, distinguishing a few articles of his own in the piles. He got dressed. The body on the bed rolled over and looked at him.

“Is it morning already?”

“Yes, go back to sleep,” Richard whispered, then jerked his head up and stepped closer. “Say that again?”

“Say what again?”

“What you said.” Richard tried to focus his eyes.

“Uh, is it morning already? That what I was supposed to say?”

Richard had a coronary. “Oh, fucking hell!”

“What?”

“I’m too old for this.” In disbelief, Richard shook his head and carried his shoes and socks out of the room with him. He sat in an unoccupied chair and slipped them on, planning on a quick escape out of this madhouse.

Steve opened his eyes and raised his head from Bret’s chest. “Good morning, Richard.”

Richard grumbled in reply.

“Did you sleep well?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him?” Richard gestured to the bedroom. “Did I know that was a ‘him’ last night?”

“I don’t know, did you?”

Richard’s head ached more when he thought about it. “No. I didn’t.” He rubbed his fingers into his scalp. “Do you know where the aspirins are? I’m dying over here.”

Steve untangled himself from Bret, who grunted and rolled over.

Richard followed Steve to the kitchen where Steve opened a few cupboards. Steve filled two glasses with water and handed one to Richard, then Steve shook out two aspirins for Richard and two for himself.

After Richard swallowed them he asked, “What state are we in?”

“Confusion.” Steve grinned.

“Very good. What city?”

“New York, New York, it’s a hellavah town,” he sang.

“Good. Now I can find my way home.”

“Leaving?” Steve set his glass down. “How about breakfast?”

“You’re kidding. I’m lucky I don’t get sick as it is.” Richard trailed Steve to the living room, watching Steve get dressed.

“Coffee then.” Steve zipped his fly and buttoned his shirt.

“What about him?” Richard pointed to Bret.

“He’ll be out ‘til noon.”

“It’s passed noon.”

“Oh. Well, a few more hours then.” Steve tied his shoelaces and gestured to the door.

The café and the fresh air did Richard some good. The aspirins were helping his head but he was still having little success piecing together the night on the town. He rubbed the stubble on his jaw and asked, “When did we go there?”

“After the bar.”

“What bar?”

“The one with the live band.” Steve blew off the rising steam from his cup, seated across from Richard in a booth.

“Oh.” Richard hadn’t a clue. “Who drove?”

“The cabbie. He was sober as a judge and didn’t have a very good sense of humor, I might add.”

“No, I suppose he wouldn’t.” Richard sipped the strong, black coffee. “Who was I in bed with, and why?”

Steve opened his mouth to answer and Richard stopped him. “Wait. I don’t really want to know the answer to that.”

Steve smiled and shrugged. “He liked you. He followed you around all night.”

Richard held up his hand and shook his head. “Please. Spare me the details.” He took another sip of coffee. “Do you know where Wendy and Peter are?”

“How do you know they’re not home?”

“Two reasons; we were at your house until late and they never showed, and you hinted about them being ‘far, far away’.”

Steve sighed and set his cup down. “You put me in a terrible position, Richard.” He thanked the waitress as she poured more coffee and waited for her to leave. “I’m very loyal to Wendy. You have to understand where my confidences lie.”

“I don’t give a shit,” Richard said, “Tell me where they are.”

“If I do, you’ll go after them and make a scene. Can’t you let them be? He’ll be fine with her.”

Richard leaned back and exhaled a long breath. “I suppose you’re right.”

“I am?” Steve replied.

“Well, hell, look at my life. Some role model I turned out to be.” Richard asked quietly, “Did you tell me his name?”

“Who’s name? The guy in bed with you?”

“Yes. No. Never mind.” Oh just shoot me. “About Wendy. Does she have a little place in the Hamptons or something? Come on, out with it, man.”

“They’re not in the states, Richard.”

“Well, of course not. They’re what?” Richard spilled the hot coffee and flinched as it burned his hand, spilling more.

Steve piled a stack of napkins on the running brown river.

“What states? The United States? These states?”

“Calm down. Look. See how upset you are?” Steve looked over his shoulder for the waitress.

“Why on earth should I be upset? My seventeen year old virgin son has been kidnapped by a thirty-five year old nymphomaniac and taken out of the country.” His headache returned.

“I could think of worse things.” Steve smiled. “Besides, your ‘virgin’ son is perfectly capable of taking care of himself. He’s more together than most men I know.”

“Together?” Richard laughed at the absurdity. “Oh, yes, very. He only wanted to commit suicide because he’d thought he’d lost Wendy. I’d say that was ‘together’ and mature.”

“Oh, he did?” Steve frowned.

“Yes. And I’ll tell you one other thing.” Richard leaned over the table. “It really kills me that she prefers him to me!” He poked his own chest angrily.

“Ah, now that I would believe. Ego. Both you and Keith are full of it.”

The waitress came by to refill their cups, spotted the spill, and left.

Growling at the insult, Richard stretched over the table towards Steve. “A thirty-five year old woman with a seventeen year old boy? That’s fucking sick. I don’t care what you call Peter. He’s still a child in many ways. He’s in love with the idea of having her. He has no concept of love yet.”

“Do you?”

“What?”

“Know true love?”

After the waitress wiped up the table and removed the soiled napkins, Richard elevated his cup for her to refill as Steve did the same. When she left Steve said, “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“True love, Richard. Ever felt it?”

Richard glared at Steve in growing irritation, resenting him. “Leave me the hell alone.”

“Did you love Louise?” Steve asked.

Richard clenched his teeth. “Who the fuck are you to ask me a personal question like that? You think you know ‘true love’? With the beast you left in bed?” He pointed in Bret’s direction.

“Yes. I do love him. Bret and I are in the process of making a commitment, but I know you’d be a hard man to convince of anything, Richard.”

“What crap.”

“Why? Because we’re both men?”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass if you’re men.” Richard lowered his voice and snarled. “You have sidetracked me again. Just like you did last night. You must think you’re very clever.”

Steve smiled and bowed. “Thank you.”

“Where ‘out of the states’?”

“I don’t know. Maybe Europe.”

“Can you narrow it down a bit more?”

“Well, let’s see. Wendy has some family—” Steve tapped his lip in an exaggerated gesture of thinking.

Richard gasped, “Italy!” He sent his coffee cup over again, swore profanity, and tried to dab at it unsuccessfully.

The waitress came over and rolled her eyes. She cleaned it again and said, “Havin’ a bad day, fella’?”

“No comments from the hired help, please,” Richard sneered.

“Oh toot-toot! Aren’t we too classy?” She turned up her nose and walked away.

“Relatives in Europe?” Richard grabbed Steve’s arm. “A daughter, perhaps?”

“Oh shit.” Steve turned pale.

To confirm his suspicions, Richard felt around in his jacket pockets and removed a small black book, thumbing through the pages. “Hmm, why, I have it right here. Rachel Renee Saunders and Signora Ruth Valenche, Villa Espana, Italy.” He grinned triumphantly. “Thank you, my good man, you have earned your gold star today.” He slipped the book back in his pocket.

“Don’t, Richard. Don’t just go running over there.”

“Why not? Do you realize Wendy has a perfectly delicious daughter that can’t be more than the tender age of fifteen? Oh, I can see it now. We could double-date.”

“Now wait a minute. You’re kidding me, right?”

Richard laughed wickedly.

“Stop it. You really have no intent—”

“Wouldn’t that just burn her? That little angel fell head over heels for me in three hours. Imagine what I could do with some effort?”

“Richard, you’d spoil a fifteen year old girl out of revenge? I’m amazed even you would stoop that low.”

Richard glowered at him. “I said I would charm her, not take her virginity.” He looked around the area. “I owe you one for this, sweetie.” Richard removed his wallet and tossed some bills on the table.

“Wait.” Steve grabbed his arm. “I don’t know how you met her or why you know any of this, but you can’t go, Richard.”

“Oh? I am going.” He yanked his arm away.

“No!” Steve caught hold of him again.

In frustration, Richard looked at the occupants of the café. Some people were staring in curiosity. He snatched his arm back. “Stop touching me.”

“Don’t do it, Richard. Be reasonable. What sense is there? Let them be. He’ll come back on his own soon enough.”

“You don’t know that. He’s unpredictable. I don’t know how far he’s willing to take this relationship. He’s blowing his high-school record. A career in gemology. Enough is enough.” Richard attempted to slide out of the bench seat.

Steve stood quickly, forced Richard back, and sat next to him, trapping him.

To his humiliation, Richard spotted more curious looks from the patrons. “Look, Steve, this is getting embarrassing. I know you don’t care about your own reputation, but pity mine. Let me out.”

“No. Not until you’ve reconsidered. And believe me I can be much more embarrassing than this if you don’t listen to reason.”

“Don’t be a fool!” Richard said. “What business is it of yours on how I deal with my son? Where do you come off getting involved?”

“It’s not about your son, it’s about Wendy and her family. I care about what happens to her.”

“Why? What has she done for you? Can she count you as another of her conquests?”

“Why can’t you just let your sons make their own mistakes?”

Richard turned away from Steve’s gaze and stared into his half empty cup of coffee, growing cold and repulsive.

“It’s really all for your ego, isn’t it? You can’t stand to be bested by your own son.”

Richard’s jaw tightened. “Let me up.” He was about to murder someone.

“Don’t go.”

“Let me up now, before I get violent.” He showed his teeth.

“Don’t make me threaten you.” Steve didn’t budge.

“Threat? What threat?”

“I have photos of you, Richard.”

“Of what?”

“Of you kissing me and in bed with another man.”

“Go ahead, send it to Louise. It’ll amuse her.”

“It won’t amuse your boss.”

Richard clenched his fists. “I’ll kill you,” he hissed.

“Don’t go.”

“How dare you threaten me,” he growled. “You two-faced son of a bitch! Last night we’re best buddies. Today you turn on me, you fucking queer!”

Steve flinched and lowered his eyes.

“Get up!” Richard prodded him.

Steve did, reluctantly. “Fine. Go ruin those you claim to love. I can’t stop you. But when their lives lay in ruin and you’re the cause, think of this right now and how I tried to stop you.”

Richard stood slowly and faced him. “I’ll call you next time I need a lecture on how to raise my sons, so I can seek advice from one who will never have them.”

Steve reacted like he’d taken a physical blow, taking a moment to recover.

Richard straightened his back and left the café.

Chapter Twenty-six

Peter awoke to the sun’s rays beaming into the neatly furnished room; a dark mahogany armoire with matching nightstand and double-sleigh bed, fitted with crisp white sheets, casement windows with outdoor shutters, and a pair of oil paintings on the walls depicting the Florence countryside.

Wendy still slept soundly beside him. He climbed off the bed and stretched, feeling refreshed, opening the window and leaning out to enjoy the view. He could see Rachel riding a horse and watched in delight.

“Peter?”

Peter jumped out of his skin, hit his head on the sill, and turned to see Wendy stifling a laugh.

“You shouldn’t hang out the window naked. What will the neighbors think?” She smiled and waved him back under the covers.

“What neighbors? We’re miles away from anyone.”

“I know, isn’t it great?” Wendy rubbed Peter’s head where he had bumped it.

“Wendy, maybe we should try and get a hotel. This is really awkward for me.”

She snuggled closer. “You worry too much. Ask to see Ruth’s gem collection. You’ll want to stay for a month.” Wendy smoothed her hand over his chest, kissing her way down Peter’s belly.

“Really? She has a collection?”

“Like the Smithsonian.” Wendy licked his skin.

“Yeah? Think she’ll let me play with it?”

“Oh, doll, she’ll let you play with anything. Can I play with this?”

“Wendy.” He smiled shyly, then felt a rush of pleasure when she took him in her mouth. “Ah!”

Still dripping wet from the shower, Peter waited as Wendy finished up at the sink before he stepped out of the bathtub.

“Let me find out what everyone’s up to,” Wendy said as she left the room. “I’ll see you later.”

“Okay.” Peter climbed out of the claw-foot tub, closed the door, and patted himself down with the towel. He reached for his razor, rubbing his fingers over his chin stubble, then heard hoof beats. Peter pushed back the vertical casement window, holding it by the handle as he leaned out for a better view.

Rachel cantered around the ring and looked up at him suddenly. Peter almost ducked back inside. He checked to see how much of his nakedness was showing. Too much! He cupped his hand over his crotch quickly.

With a pull of the reins, Rachel halted the horse and stared up at him.

Fuck! Peter couldn’t think of what to do. They just stared at each other for what felt like a long while.

Fine. You want a look? Look. Peter imagined he was Keith, bold and wild, and removed his hand from his crotch. Act casual. You’re a nude model. This is nothing. He propped both hands on the window frame and knew damn well Rachel could see him from his thighs up. Here I am, naked for you to admire.

It excited something in Peter as he stood there, deliberately allowing Rachel to see him. Well? Do I turn you on or are you staring at me out of mere curiosity?

The horse shifted and snorted under her.

Okay. Still staring at me. How about this? He smiled.

Immediately her expression changed for the worse, she turned the horse and spurred it on, disappearing in a flash.

Hang on! You wanted to see it!

Rachel’s reaction surprised Peter. Wait a minute, you idiot. She figured out you’re sleeping with her mother. Fuck. I knew we should have slept apart.

Sighing in disappointment, Peter filled the sink to shave.

Once he was finished and couldn’t invent another reason to stall, Peter ventured down to the main floor bravely. He searched for Wendy, unable to find her.

Peter did find Ruth sitting in the reading room. On his entrance she gazed up and greeted him pleasantly. “Peter, come in, my dear, and sit with me.”

“Where’s Wendy?”

“She went into town for a few things. She’ll be back soon. Come, let’s get acquainted.”

“Oh.” Peter was upset Wendy had left him behind. He sat across from the Signora on a leather wing-backed chair, averting his eyes.

“Now, Peter, if I get too personal, you just tell me so.” She took off her glasses and put her book aside. “You look so young, how old are you?”

Preventing himself from rolling his eyes in disgust at the predictable line of questioning, Peter cleared his throat. “Eighteen.”

“Is that the truth?”

“Yes,” he lied.

“Did your mother and father allow you to come here with Wendy this way? Are you missing school?”

Horribly uncomfortable with the expected inquisition, he cursed Wendy again for leaving him alone. “Yes, ma’am they know. And yes, ma’am, I am missing some school.”

“Call me Ruth, Peter.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Peter, you are so sweet, so young. What do you need a person like Wendy for? You must realize the problems you are facing with the differences in your ages.”

“I’ve heard it all before,” he raised his voice, then apologized, “I’m sorry, ma’am, I mean Ruth.”

“No, it’s all right, Peter. It’s my fault for prying. But, wouldn’t a girl your own age be more suitable? Maybe someone like Rachel? She’s sweet, charming, and your age too.”

“Yes, she’s very pretty. But, Wendy and I are in love.”

“Are you?”

“Yes.”

“Can we truly love someone when we have nothing in common with them? When one is so much more experienced than we are? Or do we admire and respect them? Become infatuated with them?”

“No, I love her.” The flatness of his tone surprised even him.

“How do you know?”

Peter shrugged. “I just do.”

Ruth wheeled closer to where he sat. “Tell me, Peter. What do your parents think of your relationship with Wendy?”

“They don’t understand.” Moaning and swearing at her inside his head, Peter was weary of the topic.

Rachel walked into the room.

“Rachel, dear, we are waiting on you for breakfast.”

Rachel replied in Italian.

“Don’t be rude, dear, it’s not polite to speak Italian if Peter doesn’t understand.”

Rachel again asked something in Italian.

“She’s on an errand. She’ll return in a few hours.” Ruth wheeled the chair to the dining area. “Come children.”

Rachel glared at Peter with contempt.

Peter wanted to go home very badly.

Wendy didn’t show for breakfast. Peter sat in silence as he ate as Ruth tried her best to include him in the conversation. Rachel insisted on speaking so he didn’t understand, then excused herself after eating a mouse’s size portion.

“Peter, why don’t you walk around the grounds? There’s a pasture full of horses and a young groom about your age. Wendy will be back soon.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Peter felt like a terrible burden on this old woman. He dabbed his mouth with a cloth napkin and said, “Thank you for breakfast.”

Peter found his way outside, sticking his hands in his pockets and kicking at the gravel lane. He brooded, wanting to talk to Wendy. He needed to tell her this was a mistake and that he had to get back home. It upset him that Wendy had left him all alone for so long. He couldn’t imagine where she had gone.

Rachel was riding again. Peter tried not to make eye contact with her, keeping his head down as he made for the stable. He poked around in the shadows and heard the horses shifting and blowing, but found no groom so he stepped back out into the warm April sunshine.

The area was littered with sparkling pebbles among the gravel. Peter knelt down and picking up tiny pyrite stones, smiling in delight as he searched through the rocks for the little golden treasures. To his excitement, he found rose quartz as well, and his hands were full in seconds.

He tugged out his shirttail to pile them in like a basket before sitting down to investigate his samples.

The snort of a horse and the sight of a lacquered hoof scared him to death. Peter held up his hand to shield the glare and found Rachel seated upon her living throne.

“Why on earth are you playing in the dirt?” She spoke down her nose at him. “Don’t you realize there could be horse droppings there?”

“But…” Peter wanted to explain to Rachel about the rocks.

“You’re nothing but a little boy. I don’t know what my mother sees in you.” She tightened up her legs and the horse lunged into a canter.

Peter covered his face from the spatter of gravel, humiliated, and threw all the rocks off his lap. He tried to wipe his hands, jerking around in surprise when he heard crunching feet on loose stones.

“Don’t mind the princess.” The young man reached out to Peter to help him up. “I’m Carlos.”

“I’m Peter.”

“What were you looking for?” Carlos scanned down at the gravel.

“Pyrite and rose quartz. There’s a ton of it in these rocks.”

“What? Pyrite? Has it value?” His accent was Spanish.

“Nah, they call it ‘fool’s gold’. Look.” Peter showed him a piece.

Carlos took it to inspect. “Interesting. I think they truck the gravel in from elsewhere. I know it is not from here. ”

“Why is she such a snob?” Peter nodded to Rachel who was back in the riding ring.

Carlos tossed the pebble down. “It is what happens when you are very rich, I’m afraid. You’ll not get through to her. She thinks there is a prince waiting.” Carlos made a silly face, crossing his eyes. “Come, you like to help me feed the horses?”

Relieved to find a friend, Peter followed Carlos into the stables where he helped him lift bales of hay.

In an hour and a half Peter was filthy and covered in sweat. Carlos handed him a bottle of water. “Do you know the Signora well?”

“No, not really. I’m here with her sister-in-law. Wendy Saunders.”

“Saunders? This is princess’s surname, no?” He took the water from Peter and drank it.

“Yes, that’s her daughter.”

“They are match making you, si?” He grinned.

“No, you don’t understand, I am here with Wendy.”

“Si, for princess.”

“No, with Wendy. With her.”

Carlos stared at him a moment. “You prefer the older woman to the princess?”

Peter laughed softly. “It’s not a matter of preference. I’m here with her mother. Do you see?”

“Aye. I see, but you do not see. I learn from the kitchen staff you are a younger version of the man princess loves.”

“Huh?”

“I explain better.” Carlos brought Peter to sit in the shade and handed him back the water. “A gentleman came calling last week. He brings the Signora beautiful gems.”

“Gems?” Peter started to sweat.

“Yes, you know. Diamonds. Princess sees this man and thinks her prince has come. You see?”

“Oh, no…no…Peter shook his head.

“Si! I tell you! Listen to me.” Carlos grabbed Peter’s arm. “This man, he has same coloring as you. Hair, eyes. He is your shape. But older. When we saw you we know you are here for princess.”

Peter couldn’t believe his ears. Little stammering sounds escaped him.

“You see now?”

“Oh, holy shit. Unfortunately.” Peter gulped in fear. “Gotta go.”

After sprinting as fast as he could back to the villa, Peter tried to catch his breath as he walked through the immaculate kitchen. He noticed he’d left a crumbling trail of dirt and hay and cursed at himself for the mess. He backed up to the door and carefully removed his shoes.

The cook scurried over and started yelling at Peter in Italian.

“I know.” Peter held up his hands in surrender and set his shoes down at the back door.

Still muttering angrily, the cook pointed to his filthy jeans and shirt.

“These too?” Peter asked, tugging on the material of his t-shirt.

Again Peter was scolded in a foreign language. The cook reached out her hands as if waiting for him to give her his clothes. Her volume grew to the point where Peter thought he’d go deaf.

“Fine!” Giving up with a sigh, Peter took everything off except his briefs, then stood there and waited for her to allow him to go. “You don’t want my underwear, do you?”

The cook held his clothing in distain, furious, waving him out.

“It’s just a little dirt. Jesus, no need for all that.” Peter headed for the shower and some clean clothing.

“Peter?”

Peter spun around like he was still a small child on his way to his room for punishment. That voice brought with it a hundred images. “Dad?” Peter didn’t know if he was relieved, or frightened to death.

The Signora and Rachel were staring at Peter in surprise. Peter peered down at himself and covered the bulge in his briefs. “What are you doing here?”

“Dad? Is this your son, Richard?” The Signora appeared greatly relieved.

“Yes, he is. Didn’t I mention that?” Richard smiled. “I had no idea he was here until now. I came back because I had a few days off and had made such a sweet friend.” Richard winked at Rachel and she instantly seemed to melt at the sight.

Even though he had been warned by Carlos, Peter bristled in hot jealousy at the attraction between them. You gotta be fucking kidding.

Richard asked Peter, “Are you modeling again?” He gestured to Peter’s lack of attire.

“No. I was just…my clothing was dirty from…” He sighed, “Never mind,” and went to get dressed. As he climbed the staircase Peter heard his father say, “So, where’s Wendy?”

Devastated by his father’s presence, and Wendy’s absence, Peter hid in the room he and Wendy shared and buried his face in the pillows.

What felt to Peter like almost an hour later, Wendy entered the room with an armful of packages. As she placed them on the floor she said, “Hi, babe,” and kissed his cheek.

Groggy from napping, Peter reached out for her.

“Uh, Peter, your father is downstairs.”

“I know.”

“Why? How did he find out?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is he mad?” Wendy urged Peter to sit up and smoothed her hands over his naked skin.

“I don’t know that either. He hasn’t hit me or screamed at me yet.” Peter curled up on her lap.

“I tried to find us a room, lover. There just isn’t anything suitable. I’m sorry.”

“Does that mean Dad has to stay here too?”

“I hope not. I can’t understand how he found out.”

“Well, if you ask me, I think he may have sold Ruth a diamond recently, and he may have heard the rest from Steve. You told Steve we were going to Italy the night my dad came to get me, remember? When Steve snuck upstairs while Dad was downstairs drinking with Bret?”

“Steve would never have told him. I bet he figured it out himself. Richard sold Ruth a diamond? Well, don’t that just beat all.” She sighed.

“Kiss me.”

Wendy bent over to meet his lips.

“Make love to me.”

“Now? Peter, your father is downstairs.”

“So? Why does that make a difference?” Peter needed reassurance and tugged at her shirt.

“But…he’s right down there. When I saw him I panicked and ran up the stairs to find you. What if he calls us when we’re in the middle of, you know?”

Peter groaned. “You don’t want me anymore. He comes and I vanish.”

“No, it’s not like that.”

“Like what then? Don’t you think I’m sexy anymore?” He flexed his thighs and pushed up his pelvis.

“That reminds me of something your brother would do. Bad boy.” Wendy placed her hands on his stomach and slid them downwards. “Don’t worry about that, Peter, you’re sexy. Gorgeous.” She touched his erection through the cotton of his briefs.

It was exactly what Peter craved. He began working on getting Wendy naked, massaging her breasts as she fisted his cock. He was deep in a swoon when there was a light rap at the door.

Wendy cleared her throat. “Yes?”

“The Signora would like to know when you would join them.” The servant asked from outside the door.

“When is dinner being served?” Wendy responded.

“No! Wendy!” Peter shook his head frantically.

“In a half hour.”

“Yes, we’ll join her then.”

“Very good, Signorina.”

Peter let out a breath in anger. “Why? We have to sit with him too?”

“We have to be civil, Peter, this isn’t a hotel. Besides, what does he think he’s going to do? Drag you home?”

“Oh, great.” Peter threw up his hands.

“Peter, now you lost your hard-on.”

“No fucking wonder.”

“Well, forget that and think about this.” Wendy lifted her breast to his lips.

He paused to look at it, then sucked it hungrily.

Richard tried not to worry about how long it was taking for Wendy to ‘get’ Peter and bring him down to join them. He was about to storm up the stairs and do something about it himself, but tried to keep calm.

Rachel spoke to him in Italian. “Richard, you lead such a fascinating life. All those exotic cities. Dealing with such precious gems.”

Richard sipped his dark red wine and replied, “It’s not all glamour. There’s quite a bit of paperwork.”

“Maybe I can help you.”

“Rachel,” Ruth said, “I’m appalled at your forwardness.”

Rachel lowered her eyes demurely, then peeked up at Richard and gave him a very inviting smile.

Needing no encouragement this time, he gave it back, very warmly. Take that, Wendy. Just as those thoughts passed through Richard’s mind, Wendy entered the room. Richard checked to see if Wendy noticed the look her daughter had just bestowed on him. She had. Good. Richard swallowed more wine, then witnessed his son cringe with jealousy. What’s this? Peter is interested in Rachel? The plot thickens.

Richard also observed when Rachel met her mother’s gaze that warmth was exchanged for a scowl.

“So, Richard, to what do we owe the honor?” Wendy sat down across the table from him, next to Peter.

“I’d no idea you were here. I find it an amazing coincidence.”

“Oh, yes, amazing.” Wendy thanked the servant for the wine.

When the servant poured one for Peter, Richard said, “You’re not old enough to drink, young man.”

“Oh, stuff it!” Peter snapped at him and raised his glass in defiance.

Wendy admonished Peter quickly. “Peter. Be polite.”

Peter apologized to the Signora, who was obviously trying her best to ignore everyone.

Rachel asked Richard another question in Italian. Richard knew if he and Rachel continued their exchange, excluding Wendy and Peter, it would infuriate Wendy.

Richard wanted Wendy to think the attraction between him and Rachel was becoming strong. And as Richard hoped, Wendy grew livid, while oddly, Peter was insanely jealous of him getting all of Rachel’s attention. This is ridiculous! Richard hated playing this game, but his son didn’t leave him a choice.

“You’ll be staying in town, Richard?” Wendy interrupted Rachel and Richard’s stream of Italian conversation.

“Well, I hadn’t had the chance—”

“He’ll stay here. There’s plenty of room with us.” Rachel looked at Ruth for approval.

Peter turned to Wendy. “What’d she say?”

Ruth sat in awkward silence.

Richard addressed Ruth, “No, I think I’ll find a room.”

“No! I insist!” Rachel persisted.

Peter seemed like he was going crazy with the language barrier.

“It’s all right, Richard, there’s plenty of room here,” Ruth replied.

Richard smiled smugly as Wendy and Peter exchanged worried glances. Then Richard felt Rachel reach for his leg under the table and choked. How far am I going to let this go?

Richard needed to do something about this mess. Finally Wendy did it for him.

After the meal Wendy said, “I need to speak to Richard alone.” She gave Peter a patient look, and Rachel a warning glare.

As Wendy attempted to lead him away, Rachel intercepted Wendy quickly.

Richard smiled at Rachel and touched her cheek. “Okay, my sweet one. Let your mother and I have our talk. I won’t be long and I shall see you are properly tucked in.”

With Rachel beaming up at him lovingly, Richard patted her bottom as she left.

Wendy showed her teeth. “I have no idea what you said to my daughter, but could imagine.”

“Can you?” Richard followed Wendy into a quiet salon.

Wendy shut the door. “Okay, Richard, what’s the deal? No more bull shit.”

“What? Me?” He gestured innocently.

“Coincidence my ass. You see Peter is fine. Now leave.”

“Is he?” Richard approached her. “I’ve never seen him look more unhappy. Or have you even taken the time to look? He’s missing school, his finals…Ask him if he’s happy about that?” Richard paused, watching Wendy’s expression. “Besides, there’s another reason why I came here.” He walked to a window to peer out at the darkness.

“Hands off, Richard. She’s fifteen and definitely a virgin.”

Richard turned around slowly, grinning. It was exactly what he had waited to hear. “How’s it feel, Wendy?”

She moved towards him like a mad bull. “Don’t you dare!”

“She’d do it in a minute. She’s got some crush going.”

“Now wait a minute, I met Peter by accident. I didn’t seek him out.”

“As did we.”

“But he has more experience than she does. He’s prepared for a relationship.”

“So you say. He hasn’t been stable since this whole affair began now, has he?”

Wendy went to debate it, shut her mouth, lifted her drink, and took a gulp. “Checkmate.”

“I agree. Will you have a seat?” He gestured to the chairs by a small table and lamp.

Wendy collapsed on one and held her drink on her lap. Richard took a seat and examined her closely. “Wendy, Wendy. All this trouble over a little boy?” He sighed. “Oh, I know, I know, he’s really quite the man. So you say. In bed? But are you being fair to him? Taking him away this way? Interrupting his schooling?”

She stared into space.

“Can you imagine the damage I would inflict on Rachel if I made love to her and took her to the States with me? She would always be dependent on me and have no real life of her own. It would ruin her. Can you see that?”

“Yes!” Wendy answered too quickly, then obviously saw his point and frowned.

“What have you done for him? Taking him away? He’s got no future, no job, nothing. I can give him what he needs at home. Let him finish high-school and go to gem school, get an education, start living like a man. Then—If the two of you are still that fond of each other, by all means. But let him grow up first. He needs a few more years under his belt. He’s not really a man yet.”

“Richard, I’m surprised you’re being so civil about it.” Wendy rubbed her face tiredly. “I hate to admit it but you’re making me feel guilty, like I’m somehow hurting him. I would never intentionally harm Peter.” She met his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’ve betrayed you. And I have harmed Peter, haven’t I?”

Richard tried to judge her sincerity. He’d heard her swear off Peter once before.

“I’ve been a fool, Richard. I don’t know what I was thinking. What’s wrong with me? Can’t I do anything right?” She started crying. “First, I married an old man and live miserably waiting for him to die and set me free. Now, here I am ready to start over again and I go to the extreme.”

“What happened in your first marriage?” Richard handed her his handkerchief.

“He was sixty, Richard, and I was twenty. He never loved me. It was a farce. I was in it for the money, and he was in it to impress his peers. I haven’t felt love like I have from Peter. Never that strong before.”

“Love? Or infatuation? I think there’s a difference.”

“Well, whatever it is, I’m starved for it.” She laughed sadly.

Richard felt pity for her. The four seasons of his emotions he felt for her; passion, love, hatred, now pity. He reached out his hand and Wendy took it.

Wendy knelt down in front of him and cried on his lap. Richard gently caressed her hair, loving her familiar feel and scent. “Wendy.”

She looked up at him.

“What I keep trying to understand is why you prefer him to me?”

Her tears pouring like rain, Wendy crawled up on his lap and held him.

Peter knew his dad and Wendy were in the salon alone together. He pressed his ear on the door to listen, heard shouting at first, now it was too quiet and it made him frightened. When Peter noticed Rachel checking to see if the door was still closed he hurried after her. “Wait!”

Rachel turned her nose up at him and kept walking.

“Rachel, don’t hate me, please.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Rachel spun around to face him.

“What did I do?”

“You barge in here unannounced! You sleep together!”

“I’m sorry. I know it was all very rude. Please.”

“My poor aunt has to deal with it. It’s making her weak. The very thought of my mother with a little boy. She’s sick.”

“Okay, stop it, now.” Standing tall over her tiny five foot three inch frame, Peter said, “I’m not a little boy.”

“Yes, you are. You’re my age!” she accused.

“No. I’m not. I’m older than you. I’m eighteen. What are you, fifteen?” Peter felt his heart quicken. “Not to mention, look at the way you act around my father.”

“It’s different.”

“Why is that?” He folded his arms over his chest.

“Because he’s a gentleman.”

“And she’s a lady. I don’t see the difference.”

“She is not!”

Peter became furious. “Don’t you ever put your mother down to me.”

“You are as lowly as she is. Sinning together under our roof.” Rachel was visibly shaking.

“You wish it was you. That’s why!”

Rachel covered her ears. “Get away from me! Leave me alone!”

“Little snob princess! You know nothing about love. At least I’ve tasted it. What have you done other than fantasize about my dad?”

“You have filthy thoughts.” She drew back to slap his face.

Peter caught Rachel’s hand and grabbed her, pressing their torsos together. “Who’d want you? So damn high and mighty. You think everyone is beneath you.”

“Let go of me! Your father will hear how you have treated me!”

“Good. Tell him. You think I care what that man thinks?”

Rachel broke out of Peter’s grip and stepped towards the door. When Rachel opened it, Peter looked in over Rachel’s head.

Wendy and his father were kissing passionately, together on the chair. At the sound of the door both Richard and Wendy looked up in surprise.

Peter felt like a bullet had hit him in the chest. Rachel burst out crying and turned away, running right into Peter who crushed her in his arms and held her tight. Rachel was hysterical and Peter tried to calm her, kissing and cooing to her. “Okay. You’re okay.”

Wendy and Richard hurried over to them.

Peter shielded Rachel with his body. “Get away! You both make me sick! I hate you both!” Peter held back his own tears.

Peter headed in the only direction he knew, taking Rachel to his room. Peter sat with Rachel on the bed and rocked her as they both cried. Peter tried to hide his sobs from Rachel but the moment she looked at his face Rachel seemed to lose control, wailing in deep hiccups. Peter crushed his cheek against hers, lying back with her on the bed. He hugged her tightly so no one could take her away from him.

Chapter Twenty-seven

“Terry, really man, this is too much.”

“I want you to have it.”

“But the other guys will definitely wonder.”

“I’ve got news for you, my young beauty. They aren’t wondering anymore.” Terry caressed Keith’s cheek.

Keith stared in awe at the gleaming Gibson electric guitar. “Will you teach me?”

The minute Terry sat next to Keith on the couch, Terry began kissing Keith’s neck under his long hair. “Persuade me,” he said.

Keith laughed shyly. “If you insist.” Kith reached for Terry and kissed his soft mouth, rolling his tongue around Terry’s.

Terry gave him a sensuous groan. “There, that wasn’t so difficult, now was it?” Terry combed Keith’s hair back from his forehead. “I’ve heard you when you didn’t know I was there, stealing a minute or two on mine. Go on, give it a try.”

A sense of excitement washed through Keith. He placed the guitar on his lap, the strap over his head and strummed it, playing a few cords.

“Let me show you how to tune it,” Terry said.

Keith handed the guitar over and heard the pitch change, recognizing the correct sound. “Yes! I could do that.”

“Of course you can.” Terry handed it back to him.

Keith played a few notes carefully and the sound made his adrenaline surge. “Thank you. I don’t know what to say.”

“Practice, practice, practice!” Terry laughed and dug his hand into Keith thick hair once more. “You’ll have to pack it up for now, I’m afraid.”

“Are we off again?” Keith raised the guitar strap over his head.

“Yes, my love.” Terry helped him return it to its case.

“Where to?” Keith curled onto Terry’s lap to snuggle against him, inhaling his scent.

“To the Eternal City. To the place where civilization had its birth.” Terry hugged him close.

“Liverpool?”

Backing up, Terry stared into Keith’s face, then exploded with laughter. “No, my lovely, Rome.”

“Oh. Okay.” Keith shrugged and pushed Terry down on the couch, pinning him to it and finding his lips again.

The next day morning, Keith cupped the phone and told Terry, “Mom said my brother and father are both in Rome. Is that like cosmic or what?” Keith gave his attention back to the call.

Once Keith wrote down all the information Louise gave him, he hung up and grinned at Terry. “Do you believe this? The Barnes family reunion tour?”

Terry grabbed Keith and rolled on the bed with him. “You’ve been excited all day about something. Out with it, my beauty.”

With his arms pinned to the bed under him, Keith tried to blow the hair out of his eyes. Terry helped Keith push it back from his forehead, then leaned over Keith and kissed him hotly, squirming on his hips. “Tell me, tell me.” Terry started grinding his hard cock on Keith.

Keith closed his eyes as the sensations started building. “Before or after we screw?”

“Now.” Terry sat up and hauled Keith with him.

“I wrote a song,” Keith said.

“Did you? Well? Can I hear it?”

“Don’t laugh at me, Terry. Promise? Even if you hate it, tell me it’s okay,” Keith warned.

“I would never laugh at anything you did, doll, unless it was funny, of course.” Terry sat cross-legged on the bed.

Keith went to get the guitar. “I mean it, Terry, or I won’t sing it.” He hung the guitar strap over his head.

“Of course. Go ahead.”

Keith brought over a chair, sitting down in front of Terry. He began strumming the guitar lightly, adjusting the strings, then shook back his long hair, and sang;

‘If  love felt sweet before

I’d not searched at every door.

Next to you is where I want to be

Tear me from my misery.

Teach me, shape me, make me whole

It’s all the same to me.

My heart is yours and so is my soul

Tear me from my misery.

Life floods me now I’ve not tasted it before

Until you were there breaking up its core

like one who moved without hope

I’d lived a world in emptiness.

With you right here I’m sure I can cope

My love for you is my chance for success

You and I together can only be best

Your forbidden love has set my heart free at last

Tear me from my misery.’

The sound died slowly as Keith stopped. When he looked up, Terry’s eyes were welling with tears. “Keith.”

“What? Sucked didn’t it?” Keith felt slightly disoriented.

“No, on the contrary. It was sung so purely and with so much heart I’m overwhelmed.”

Keith was stunned.

Terry knelt before him and kissed Keith’s hand. With respect for the fine instrument, Keith lifted the guitar strap over his head and set it down beside him.

“Marvelous,” Terry whispered, “You are marvelous.” Kneeling higher, Terry reached for Keith’s jaw, cupping it in his hands. Keith received his kiss, loving his passion and dexterous tongue.

Terry sat back on his heels to stare at Keith. “We must make a recording of this one.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes.” Terry stood and reached for Keith, escorting him back to the bed with him. “I didn’t think you had it in you, baby, a song so sweet. I expected something more hard rock.”

Keith cuddled with him lovingly. “It’s you that inspires it.”

“You shall sing it, not the band.”

“Me?” Keith raised up on his elbows to see Terry’s electric blue eyes. “But, it’s for you!”

“Yes, of course it’s for me. But only if you sing it. I’ll ring Bruce in the morning.”

“Bruce?”

“My agent. I want him to hear this one.”

Keith rested his cheek on Terry’s chest. He never knew anyone could love him like this, could have faith in him, who would support him. “Is this real? Or am I dreaming?”

Terry squeezed him tight. “When you turn on the radio and hear it, you’ll know that it’s real.”

“Thank you, Terry. I don’t know what to say.”

“Say nothing then.” He kissed Keith’s hair.

Keith sat back up and stared at him. “No, I do know what to say.”

Terry tilted his head at him.

“I love you, Terry Jones.”

A broad smile appeared on the lead singer’s lips. “Oh, my young beauty. Now, that is truly music to my ears. Get that mouth over here.”

Keith climbed over Terry anxiously and kissed him with every ounce of passion he possessed.

Peter fought the urge to sleep, opening his eyes, gazing down at Rachel’s face as she rested in his arms quietly. They had both stopped crying. When Peter moved Rachel sat up and looked down at him.

Peter thought Rachel was charming. “Are you all right?”

She nodded. “You?”

He shrugged tiredly. “I don’t know how to feel anymore. I think I’m numb.”

“I’m sorry I was rude to you before.”

“It’s okay. I guess this whole thing is kind of strange. For everyone.” Peter tucked Rachel’s soft blonde hair behind her ear. “Can I tell you something?”

She nodded again.

“You’re incredibly beautiful, Rachel. Even prettier than your mother.”

“Thanks, Peter. Do you think my mom and your dad are still kissing?”

Peter turned away. “I don’t care anymore.”

“Me neither.” Rachel climbed over Peter’s chest and kissed his lips.

Peter blinked at Rachel in surprise. When he found her smile Peter grabbed her and devoured her mouth hungrily. “Oh, Rachel, my Rachel.” He inhaled her fragrance and rubbed his stiff cock against her in excitement.

“Yes, Peter. I’m your Rachel now.”

Peter rolled over, so he was on top. “And no one will take you from me.” Peter opened his jeans.

Knowing Rachel was a virgin, Peter pushed inside her gently, watching her expression for any signs of discomfort. When she nodded, Peter pushed in deeper. “You okay?”

“Yes,” she assured him.

At complete penetration, Peter closed his eyes, trying to move in a slow rhythm. “Tell me if it hurts you.”

“No, it’s not too bad, Peter.”

He stared at her. “You mean it doesn’t feel good at all?”

“It’s my first time. What’s it supposed to feel like?”

“Good, really good.”

Rachel closed her eyes and wrapped her legs around Peter’s waist.

“Oh, yes.” The climax was rushing up on Peter quickly. “I’m coming. Rachel, I’m coming.” He jammed his hips against her as hard as he could and felt it erupt like steam through his cock.

“Wow.”

Peter opened his eyes and caught his breath. “Ah! God! Oh, that was unbelievable.” He laughed softly, feeling shy.

“I felt it. I think I felt it when you came. It was throbbing inside me. Cool.”

Peter gazed down into her wide innocent eyes, tightening his embrace. With Rachel, Peter felt like he was in charge, he was in control, he was the man. He liked it.

As the sensations of the climax subsided and he grew soft, Peter’s thoughts turned to their reality. “My dad will make me go back with him. They will separate us, you know.”

“I’ll find you, Peter. I’ll wait for you.”

“You will? You mean that?”

“Yes. Will you wait for me?”

“Yes. I will. You’re mine, Rachel. Only mine.” Peter crushed her in his arms and tried not to cry.

“I don’t believe this. What are they doing up there?” Wendy stared at the ceiling.

Richard laughed at the obvious answer.

“Come on, Richard,” Wendy replied, very upset.

“Wendy,” he teased. “Come here.”

Crossing her arms, Wendy walked closer to him reluctantly.

“It’s marvelous. Don’t you think?”

“Well, no.” Wendy pouted.

“You’re not losing a lover, you’re gaining a son-in-law.”

“Richard!” She was frantic.

“My dear, it’s worked out perfectly. Losing you won’t hurt so much.”

“I hadn’t intended on losing him.”

“Don’t be absurd. It’d never work between you and Peter. We’ve been over this a hundred times.” Richard hugged her tightly. “I want you, Ms. Saunders, and I’m not letting you get away again.”

Wendy tried to feel comfort, but the only problem was, Richard was not Peter. It was Peter she craved. Oh, why me? I can’t get anything right.

“Come to bed,” Richard said in her ear.

“We can’t, Richard. It’s insane.”

“I know. Absolutely insane.” He ran his hand down her slacks to her crotch and rubbed her lightly.

“This is crazy.” His touch made Wendy shiver.

“Yes, crazy. Like how I feel about you.” Richard turned her in his arms and kissed her. “You make me so hot.”

Wendy closed her eyes as Richard ate at her neck. “Fate, why mess with fate?”

Chapter Twenty-eight

“Hullo.” Keith walked passed a servant and into a large marble foyer where an old woman sat in a wheelchair, gaping at him and Terry in horror.

At her weird expression, Keith took a quick look at the way he and his partner were dressed. Terry was wearing his tight leather slacks, and Keith wore torn blue jeans. Both he and Terry had an earring in their left earlobe and the sleeves torn off their shirts. Keith suddenly felt underdressed and tucked his shirt into his waistband.

“What can I do for you?” the old woman asked.

“Yeah, uh, I’m Keith Barnes and I was told my brother and father were here.” He looked around. “Nice place.”

“Another Barnes, marvelous.” She rolled her eyes. “They’re still upstairs. I’ll send someone up for them.”

“Sure, that’d be okay.”

Terry cleared his throat loudly.

Keith said, “Oh, I’m sorry, Tel.” Keith waved him over. “This is Terry Jones, the lead singer and guitarist from Dead Liverpool.”

“I have no idea what that is and I’m not sure I want to know.”

Terry took the old woman’s hand and kissed it.

She blushed. “Oh!”

“A pleasure to meet you, Signora.” Terry batted his long painted eyelashes at her.

“Oh, dear.” The old woman fanned herself.

“Keith?”

Keith jerked his head up and found Peter charging towards him in his bare feet and blue jeans. Picking Peter up in his arms, Keith swung him around and hugged him tightly. “Look at you. You look different. Sexier. What are you doing here in Rome? Mom didn’t say.”

Peter gripped Keith tightly and pressed his mouth over Keith’s ear. “I have to talk to you urgently. It’s about Wendy.”

The old woman in the chair wheeled out. “I’ll let you alone to get reacquainted.”

Terry said, “Hullo, pretty Peter.”

“Hi, Terry.”

Keith noticed his brother become lost for a moment in Terry’s magical eyes. Keith lowered his hands to hold Peter’s sides and shook him to get Peter’s attention. “What do you have to tell me about Wendy?” Keith stared at Peter. “Christ, why do you look so different from the last time I saw you?” Keith felt Terry’s eyes boring into him and threw Terry a dirty look, mirroring Terry’s.

“Wendy and Dad slept together last night,” Peter said.

“So?” Keith felt the firmness of Peter’s body in his hands.

“So?” Peter was stunned. “Keith, she was mine.”

“Wendy belongs only to Wendy. No one can claim that one. I knew she and Dad were together before, Pete. Sorry, they made me promise not to tell you.”

Terry stepped closer. “Why are you holding him that way?” Terry said to Keith quietly. “It’s extremely odd the way you two are talking to each other. Let go of him, Keith. You two are almost lips to lips.”

“What’d he say?” Peter asked.

Keith shook his head. “Nothing. What were you saying, Pete.”

“I was saying, I can’t believe Wendy did this to me. She told me she loved me.”

“I wish I could tell you to forget about her. She’s really not good for you.” Keith could tell Terry was trying to catch his eye to gesture to their embrace. “Let it go, Terry,” Keith hissed out of the corner of his mouth and focused again on Peter.

“But there’s one more thing,” Peter said.

“What?” Keith squeezed Peter tighter, loving his crotch pressing against him.

“I slept with Rachel last night. Wendy’s daughter.”

“Her daughter?” Keith was devastated.

“Yup.”

Terry appeared to have had enough. “What’s with this?” With one hand on each of their shoulders, Terry separated them.

Keith gave Terry a frustrated look. “We always whisper this way. Usually lying down.”

Peter asked, “What’s he upset about?”

“Nothing.” Keith replied to Terry, “He’s my fucking brother, Jones. Hello?”

“Then bloody well act like it. You don’t rub dicks with your siblings, mate. Not in my country.” Terry glared at Keith.

“Keith!”

Before Keith could respond to his lover’s accusation, Keith spun around to Richard entering the room.

“Oh, hi, Dad.” Keith waved at him with little interest.

Richard embraced Keith quickly, then stepped back to get a better look at him. “Look at you. You look like a freak. Why don’t you cut your hair? Eye liner and an earring? Come on, Keith.” Richard shook his head in disappointment.

“Don’t start.” Keith pointed a finger at him in warning.

As if Richard just noticed Terry in the room, Richard stared at Terry curiously.

Terry extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Barnes.”

“Nice to meet you. Who are you?”

“That’s Terry, Dad, Terry Jones, the lead singer and guitarist from D.L. I told you about him, remember?”

“This is Terry? No. There has to be another one.” Richard appeared completely perplexed.

“Another what?” Keith glimpsed back at Terry.

“Another Terry that’s looking out for you,” Richard said.

“Really? That’s news to me.” Terry laughed.

Richard paused, looking from Keith to Terry. “Wait a minute. You two are so much alike, the hair, the clothes. Oh, no. Keith, no.”

“What?” Keith threw up his hands in frustration.

Obviously Terry had figured it out. Terry approached Richard and said, “I wouldn’t worry. He’s taken care of better than this one.” Terry nodded to Peter who was wide-eyed and stunned looking at the moment. “It seems you have stolen his lover. We don’t have to worry about you stealing Keith’s, or do we?” Terry mocked.

“You disgusting bastard,” Richard snarled.

Both Keith and Peter ran over to stop the growing rage between men.

Keith dragged Terry back. “Ignore that dick.” Keith referred to his father.

Terry peered back at Richard. “I’d not be so quick to judge if I were you, Richard, dear. I have seen some wonderful photos of you. Photos taken while you were in New York with some friends of mine. Not very becoming.” Terry pouted in exaggeration.

“What photos?” Keith asked.

“Steve.” Richard exhaled loudly.

Terry nodded. “Bad, Mr. Barnes, very bad. Tsch, tsch.” He wagged his finger at Richard in a mocking gesture.

Keith was going crazy at what he didn’t know. Keith glanced at Peter who stood in silence. “Terry, what is it? What photos? What are you talking about?”

“Nothing, Keith, love. Please don’t worry yourself. You let me take care of things, okay treacle?” Terry petted Keith’s hair back affectionately.

“Get your filthy hands off my son!” With predictable violence, Richard grabbed Terry’s collar.

“Fuck off, Dad!” Keith wedged his body in front of Terry’s.

“Steve who?” Peter asked quietly.

“Steve Baker, Wendy’s maid.” Terry straightened his shirt as Keith tried to cover Terry’s mouth to shut him up. Terry asked Keith, “What did I say?”

As Keith looked on in terror, Peter tapped his lip and tried to figure out the connections. It finally came to him. “Wait! Keith! Is that the Steve whose party you went to? And met Terry?”

Before Terry could respond, Keith elbowed Terry in the gut. Terry stared at Keith in total bewilderment.

“Keith, how did you meet Steve?” Peter suddenly became a pit-bull for the information.

Richard appeared to be holding his breath.

“Hello, Keith, Terry.” Wendy materialized in the doorway.

Keith assumed they were all gazing at Wendy with very odd expressions because Wendy turned around to see if someone else had come in behind her.

“What’s going on? I’m sorry, was I interrupting anything?” Wendy asked.

“Wendy!” Peter gasped.

Wendy startled in surprise.

“No! Peter!” Keith raced over to Peter knowing Peter figured it out.

“Oh, my God. I don’t believe this!” Peter said.

Keith watched as Wendy panicked and stared at Richard. Richard threw up his hands, giving up.

“Peter. Forget it.” Keith tried to hold Peter close again. “I don’t love her. I love Terry. Stop thinking about it.”

“No, no, no.” Peter closed his eyes and moaned.

“Love him?” Richard asked Keith. “What do you mean you love him?” Richard lunged at Terry. “I’m going to kill you for taking advantage of my son!”

“God! I hate her!” Peter screamed.

Wendy flinched and covered her ears.

“Are you considering striking me, Richard Barnes?” Terry puffed up and folded his arms over his chest.

Keith dreaded the battle even though Terry was not small by any means and at least ten years younger than Richard was.

It appeared Richard reconsidered the idea of actually having to fight Terry barehanded. Richard said, “I’ll deal with you later,” then went to comfort Wendy.

“Sure, Richard.” Terry laughed at the absurdity.

“She fucked all three of us?” Peter choked. “God, I’m going to be ill!”

“Peter?” Rachel peeked into the room.

Peter wrestled out of Keith’s grip and ran to Rachel, holding her.

“What the fuck is the matter with you, Keith?” Terry asked.

Keith had no idea he was expressing his devastation to Peter’s actions so clearly. Keith quickly looked away.

Terry walked behind Keith, wrapping his arms around Keith’s waist. “What’s going on between you and your brother, Keith, dear?”

“Hmm?” Keith snapped back to the present and leaned against Terry. “Nothing.”

Terry rocked him gently. “What a bloody mess. Hets are very fucked up. Stay well clear of this mess, my lovely.”

Peter’s heart broken beyond repair, Peter wept like a baby, and even Rachel’s soft comfort could not console him. I’m dead. This is too much. Oh, my God, not all three of us.

Peter glared at Wendy and felt his heart tear open in his chest. You won’t even look at me! I hate you! Peter hid his face in Rachel’s hair. I hate my life. My God. I hate my life. The essence of Peter’s soul passed out of Peter’s body at that moment. And he died inside.

Book Two

Chapter One

Paramus, New Jersey, 1988

As Peter looked at a diamond under high-powered magnification, he assigned it a clarity grade, simultaneously picking up the ringing phone on his desk. “This is Peter.”

“Hi, are we still on for dinner tonight?”

“I’ll try, Julie, but I’m really busy trying to get this diamond promotion out for Christmas.”

“You need to eat sometime, Peter.”

“Look, let me call you. I’d like to hit the gym for an hour after work too.”

“Okay. But at least give me some notice so I can cook something.”

“I’ll try. See ya.” He hung up and placed the little diamond back in its paper, writing the grade on it, then picked up the next one. Hearing a light rap on his door, Peter groaned in agony, tired of the interruptions.

Peter’s supervisor of th twenty-store retail chain, Vice President Todd Singer, poked in his head into his office. “You want me to get the girls to pick you up anything for lunch, Pete?”

“No, it’s all right, Todd. I’m really not that hungry.”

Todd glanced over Peter’s shoulder at his work load. “You need an assistant?”

“I wouldn’t want to put someone through it. I’m too much a perfectionist. I can manage.”

“All right. You can have all the overtime you need. I’ll okay it.”

“Thanks, Todd, you’re a pal.” Peter grinned sarcastically as Todd left, knowing Todd hated paying overtime to anyone on staff.

He and Todd had a precarious relationship. Peter knew more about gems and diamonds than Todd could learn in a lifetime. Todd was the business/sales end of the staff in that claustrophobic main office. Todd had reached second from the top on the small corporate ladder of the ‘Go-For-Gold’ chain of retail, New Jersey only, jewelry stores.

In this family owned company expertise wasn’t as coveted as expanding numbers and sales, that happened to be in the black every year. Peter thought Todd would get a muscle strain trying to pat his own back.

After the last interruption, Peter was able to work undisturbed for an hour until someone was at his office door again. Peter found Fern Smith, fresh out of high-school and in her first job, standing with a piece of paper in her hand.

“Yes?” Peter tried not to be too annoyed at the disruptions even with a deadline looming over his head. Peter couldn’t imagine why Fern was hired. He thought she was thick, had no qualifications, and spent most of her time flirting with him in his office.

Fern didn’t reply right away, snapping her gum as she stared at Peter.

“What is it, Fern? I’m swamped.”

“I have a FAX from one of our stores. I think it’s for you. I’m not sure whose merchandise it is.” She approached him, taking an obvious whiff to inhale his cologne.

Peter placed his tweezers down on his desk and read the note. “Well, is it for a loose diamond or just our regular stock?” When he glanced up Fern was inspecting a small framed photo from one of his shelves. “If you just read the computer numbers you can see—”

“This her?” Fern held the frame in front of Peter’s face.

“Who?”

“Julie Pepper. Your fiancée?” she sneered.

“I thought you came to see about this FAX?”

“She’s not very pretty, Peter. You could do better.” Fern set the photo back on the shelf and nosed through Peter’s rock samples.

“Listen, Fern, I’ve a load of work to do. About this FAX…”

She spun around, grinned impishly and picked a non-existent piece of lint off his shirt.

Peter cleared his throat, trying to keep focused and looked back at the note. “These numbers are from Margaret’s line. They’re wedding sets. You can see by the first three computer numbers. You know this, Fern.” Peter was losing his patience and handed her back the FAX.

“But, Peter, someone has to teach me. How am I expected to know?”

He knew she was playing dumb and it pissed him off. “Your supervisor is the one to train you. I haven’t the time, or the position to do it.”

“But we can make the time, and I’ll show you the positions.” She smiled.

At the lewd remark, Peter’s mouth hung open. He stood and swung his office door wider. “Out.”

Fern walked by Peter slowly, brushing against him as she did.

Peter closed his door and drew the curtains across the wall of windows next to it. He dropped heavily in his chair and got back to grading diamonds. Why won’t everyone just leave me alone and let me do my work?

Peter drove to Julie’s apartment from the gym. He glanced at the clock on his ten year old BMW’s dashboard. It was after eight.

He heard a familiar song on the radio and turned the volume up, smiling to himself. It was hard getting used to Keith’s voice coming across the airwaves. He imagined how Keith appeared on his MTV music video. Keith photographed so well, sang so beautifully, Peter was very proud of him, and missed him. I need to call him. Peter never knew when Keith was in town.

Can it really be ten years? Ten years since Keith met Terry and fell madly in love? “And they’re still together. Going strong,” Peter said under his breath. “You lucky SOB.”

After parking in front of Julie’s apartment house, Peter buzzed her unit number. He heard a metallic click and opened the lobby door, taking the elevator up to her place.

Julie had already opened the door for him and was in the kitchen pouring Peter a glass of wine. He could smell dinner simmering and felt his stomach grumble.

With robotic efficiency, Julie handed Peter the stemmed glass, shaking her head at him. “Why do you get dressed in your suit again after the gym?”

“I forgot my jeans. I showered, don’t worry.” Peter took a sip of the wine as Julie tried to take his suit jacket off for him. He set the glass down and helped her, then collapsed in a chair.

Julie left the room with his jacket.

Peter inspected her one bedroom apartment in a weary haze. Most of the artwork on her walls was from the gallery she worked for. Peter hated the stuff, but never shared his opinion. He liked one piece; A photograph of two lovers from the Mardi Gras in Venice. Their masks were grotesque but their embrace was passionate. Venice equaled Italy. Italy equaled Rome. Rome equaled—

“You hungry?” Julie asked.

Peter shrugged. “A little.”

“Dinner can wait. I haven’t broiled the shrimp yet.” Julie draped her arms around his neck, kissing him.

“Julie, I’m really tired. Not tonight, okay?” He nudged her away.

Obviously upset, she stopped touching him. “What’s wrong? Want to talk about it?” Julie held Peter’s hand and sat on the arm of the chair he was slouched in.

If Peter thought honestly about it, he didn’t know what was bothering him. Then again, maybe he did. But all Peter said was, “It’s just been really busy at work.”

Julie raised her left hand into the air to admire the rock Peter had given her on their engagement. “It’s VVS, what?”

Peter rubbed his coarse jaw tiredly. “VVS1, F in color.” He’d told her a million times.

“We need to pick a date for the wedding.”

In a gulp, Peter finished his wine, placed the glass on the coffee table and shifted his legs to stretch them out. He closed his eyes and knew he could sleep. Peter imagined his own apartment and his own bed.

Julie tapped his shoulder. “You going to sleep?”

“Hmm?” Yawning, Peter peeked under a heavy eyelid. “Sorry.” He tried to wake up. “I guess I shouldn’t have had you go through all the trouble of dinner. I’m really out of it.”

“It’s all right, Peter.”

But he knew it wasn’t. Julie was aggravated and it wasn’t the first time Peter had done this to her.

Julie stood abruptly, storming to the kitchen to shut off all the cooking vegetables, slamming pots noisily.

“Crap.” Peter knew he was in the dog house again. “I’m sorry.”

“Sure, Peter.”

“It’s just the season. You know how it gets before the holidays.” He stood, barely able to stop from swaying he was so exhausted.

“First it was the stock from Israel, then it was the overseas merchandise from Hong Kong, now Christmas is a problem. This better change after we’re married. How am I supposed to know whether to cook for you or not?”

Peter was too tired for the lecture. “I said I was sorry.” He retrieved his jacket in her bedroom and slid it on. “What do you want me to do?”

“Just stop working so hard.” She folded her arms.

“I’ll call you.”

“Wait a minute.” Julie stood in front of him and stared up into his eyes. “You’re lucky you are so gorgeous, Peter Barnes, otherwise you’d be out on your ass.” She tried to smile, but Peter knew she was angry. She untucked his long hair from out of his collar and tugged on it playfully.

“Great. Thanks.” Peter was more irritated than he should have been.

Julie kissed his lips. He gave nothing back, keeping his mouth slack and unresponsive. All he wanted to do was leave.

“You’re too tired to kiss me?” she asked. “Christ, Peter, you’re the only guy I know who never wants sex.”

He cringed and avoided her glare.

“Remember, Sunday morning we go to my mom’s and figure out a date. If we take too long, all the good places will be taken.”

“If I’m not working. Otherwise it’ll have to be Sunday night.” Peter stepped out into the hall.

Julie groaned in frustration and closed the door behind him.

They didn’t even say good-bye. After a ride in the elevator, Peter scuffed his feet back to his car, hating his life, and knowing he wasn’t treating Julie fairly. He just didn’t know what to do about it. He felt dead inside.

When he stood at his own door, Peter found a slip of paper taped under the apartment number. It was for a registered package and signed by his neighbor who accepted delivery for him.

Peter hoped it wasn’t too late and knocked on the next apartment door.

Though his neighbor looked like she was ready for bed, she gave Peter the box and smiled politely.

“Thanks.” Peter took the parcel down the hall to his own place, turning on the lights, and tossing his jacket on the chair. Before he opened it, he placed the package down on his kitchen table and got himself a beer. After sucking down half the bottle, Peter put the beer aside and located a pocket knife. He cut open the box, finding a note. “From the estate of Edwina Campbell.” Peter gasped and dug through the tissue paper anxiously unwrapping the demantoid pin in shaking hands. The appraisal was with it, along with a yellowed handwritten note from Eddie.

He read the little note. It was an apology. Eddie was sorry she told anyone about his suicide attempt. Sorry Peter never saw her again. Sorry she had disappointed him.

Peter held the pin up to the light. He could just make out that asbestos horsetail inclusion under the garnet’s table with his naked eye. Did she disappoint him? Why didn’t he see Edwina again?

Peter felt badly now that she was dead and he had a pin worth…

Peter checked the bottom line on a ten year old appraisal. Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars? He knew he could almost double it in today’s market.

Memories.

The memory of that era of his life brought pain.

“God. No.” Unable to prevent himself, Peter moaned out loud. That horrible year. That brutal realization. The embarrassment of a seventeen year old boy, dragged back to the States by his father to complete summer school and graduate. Wendy stayed in Italy. She too was humiliated. Everyone was red-faced and crushed that year. A year from hell.

Peter didn’t date a single woman for nine years. Not one. He decided it wasn’t worth it. No one excited him. No one made him feel love.

After high-school graduation, Peter attended gemology school. At least it was a direction. Then he took his present job with a retail chain. His father never forgave him for it, telling Peter the position was beneath him, raging on and on about how he could have gotten Peter a job at one of several New York importers. Peter declined the offer. He lived locally and worked locally in Paramus, the location of the main office of the retail chain. That was enough. He was their diamond buyer and grader. That was more than enough. Earning decent money, Peter had a nice vintage BMW and a comfortable apartment within a few minutes commute of work.

It was all he needed. Then he met Julie Pepper.

One of Peter’s co-workers, Cora Epstein, brought Julie into his office after telling Peter about her every day for months.

Cora made Peter blush, saying, “I can’t believe you’re unattached and not gay. Peter, you’re so beautiful that the women in the office do nothing but talk about you all day. But you don’t date anyone. Ever. Why not?”

No, Peter did not date anyone he worked with. It was bad news to ‘shit where you eat’ and he never would. Yes, he was quiet and kept to himself, never responded to a flirt or come on. Never. It was the way he kept sane and out of trouble.

The day after that conversation Cora brought Miss Julie Pepper to the office. Cora told Peter excitedly, “Julie is awestruck by you. It’s love at first sight, Peter.”

Peter wasn’t impressed. Though Cora asked him to call Julie, he didn’t.

Two weeks later Julie called him, asking Peter out on a date. He said okay out of boredom and from then on Julie had led the relationship to where it was. An engagement. How many times had she said in jest to her friends, “Peter’s the ideal man, easy to dominate and he never wants sex. Perfection.” Then she would wink to soften the insult. Peter ignored it. No one knew what he was going through deep inside. And Peter wanted to keep it that way.

Peter also knew half that statement was a lie. Julie wanted sex, but she had to beg for it. He hated being close to anyone. Peter knew if he fell in love and grew attached to a woman, they would leave or be stolen away. So, why get hurt? Besides, he couldn’t get an erection any longer. His sex drive had died ten years ago.

Peter’s mother, Louise, said, “Julie is a decent woman and you should stay with her.”

Peter shrugged. “Okay.” He never trusted his own instincts again. Peter agreed to marry Julie because his mother said she was a nice girl. That was good enough for him

But Julie constantly whined to everyone, including him, that Peter drove her crazy.

The tirades were so repetitive Peter could recite them by heart. “You completely lack emotion, you never cry, rarely laugh, and never grow angry, even when I purposely incite you to fight.”

Julie admitted she deliberately goaded him, doing anything to raise some passion in Peter.

Peter couldn’t do it. No more battling. Instead of arguing he just lowered his head and accepted defeat. Done. He was numb inside. There never would be a spark again.

“I can’t understand how a man as handsome as you, with the body of a god, and the intelligence of a scholar, can be so lifeless. It just doesn’t make sense, Peter.”

Julie’s mother occasionally joined in to jab at him. On more than one occasion Peter was subjected to the two of them hounding him or overhearing them talking about him.

“I’m just not sure about him, Julie. The man can’t carry on a conversation. He simply dazes off in the middle of a sentence and loses track. He’s always somewhere else.”

Peter had introduced Julie’s mother and father to his sister, Jacqueline, and her husband, David. Peter assumed Jackie and David seemed normal to his prospective in-laws. His sister even had a lovely new daughter, Angela, and Jackie and David were happily married.

Julie also liked Peter’s mother. They got along very well.

Peter made sure Julie rarely bumped into his father, and Julie forbid Peter to ever mention his ‘unmentionable’ brother, whom Julie referred to as ‘the gay rock star’ or ‘the freak’.

Under no circumstance did Julie want to meet Keith and Julie visibly shuddered every time she was reminded that she was becoming a part of a family with ‘one of those’.

At dinner parties or gallery openings, Julie would keep a close watch on Peter, hissing in his ear, “I know other women are attracted to you. You’re always the center of attention at every gathering we attend.”

But Peter never took notice. Everyone bored him.

“At least you won’t cheat on me, Peter. The one thing you’re not interested in is sex. You’re asexual.”

Peter always felt the blow to his ego at those remarks. But he couldn’t deny it. Julie was correct. There was no movement in his loins.

And even that secret, Peter’s inability to perform in the bedroom, wasn’t sacred. Soon Richard found out, possibly from Julie whining about it to Louise. Peter never inquired where the leak originated, but the fact that his parents knew he was impotent was more humiliation than a man could endure.

With a threatening air, Richard informed Peter it was up to Peter to continue the Barnes’ lineage, like the family tree was something to feel righteous about.

What a joke. Peter would just ignore his father when he father climbed on his ‘you–must-procreate’ soapbox. Richard became very bitter over the last ten years. He had left Wendy in Italy and dragged a very depressed son home by his ear, telling everyone he had only one son now. Keith was no longer a member of the family. If Keith’s name was brought up, Richard went into a tyrannical rage instantly.

That pin. That green stone with the surrounding colored diamonds sat in his fingertips. That horrid nightmare kept washing over Peter.

Peter set it aside and wiped at a tear that fell from his eye. Why am I so dead inside? How could I have died in Rome so long ago? Why won’t everyone just leave me alone?

Just as he pick his beer up and finish it, Peter thought he heard a noise out in the hall. He approached his door and noticed he hadn’t closed it all the way. Giving it a push, Peter heard a painful yelp and opened it up again quickly.

A woman was in the hall holding her fingers between her knees in pain.

Peter had no clue who it was as he stared at the top of her blonde head curiously.

“Shit!” She shook her hand and raised her gaze to his, gasping. “Oh, I’m going to die.”

“I’m sorry. Are you hurt?” Peter asked.

“No. Look at you. Look at you!” She shook her head. “Peter John Barnes you are so fucking fantastic I am going to die.”

“Do I know you?”

“Know me?” She put her hands on her hips. “It’s me! Rachel!”

“Rachel.” That name struck a chord with him.

“Oh, come on!” Rachel marched Peter backwards into the apartment. “Rachel,” she repeated louder, then scanned around the sparsely furnished place. “Typical bachelor.”

It hit him. “Rachel Renee Saunders?” he choked.

“In the flesh.” She punched his chest playfully, then went for a feel of his pecs. “Damn!”

“Rachel Renee Saunders?”

“Oh, man. I knew you’d be surprised, but not this much. You don’t have a weak heart, do you?” She ran her hands all over his chest. “You’re so muscular. Totally built. Peter, I need to eat you whole.”

“Rachel?”

“Yes! It’s me! Go sit down. You look like you’re about to pass out.” Rachel led Peter to a chair, tossed her fur coat on the sofa, and climbed onto his lap. “Hello, my love. I waited for you. You never came back to me.”

Peter was in shock.

“You made a promise to me, remember? That night in the guest room when you took my cherry?”

“Rachel,” he sighed.

She opened the top buttons of Peter’s shirt, reaching her hand inside to his skin. “You said, ‘Wait for me, Rachel.’ Or something like that. I tried to ring you. No one gave you a message, did they? No one let me talk to you.”

“You did?”

“Yes! And my letters? All came back marked return to sender. I’ll bet that was your mother’s handwriting. I tried, Peter. I tried.”

His mouth hung open.

“Well, Ruth died this year and now I have plenty of cash. So, what’s the first thing I do when I get the money? I fly here and look you up. Hello! Here I am!”

“Rachel.” He started to smile.

“Mm.” She pecked his cheek. “Peter, you are simply divine. I love you. I have always loved you.” Rachel started kissing him passionately.

Absolutely overwhelmed, Peter ate at her sweet mouth hungrily. “My Rachel. My Rachel,” he moaned.

“Growl! My gorgeous Peter.” She spread his shirt wide on his chest and reached into it deeper. “I want your cock.”

“Oh, yes.” He laughed and tilted his head back as she licked his neck. Suddenly, he blinked and sat up. “No!”

“No?” she asked.

“I…I’m engaged…to be married.”

“Engaged? That’s how you waited for me?”

“I never thought…I never dreamed I could ever have you again. It was like some weird fantasy in my mind. But I lost everything that year. Including you.”

“You never lost me. We just needed to grow up.” Rachel chewed his earlobe. “Make love to me, Peter Barnes.”

Oh my God. Feeling a sexual urge stir in him he hadn’t felt for a decade, Peter picked Rachel up into his arms and carried her to the bedroom. He laid her down on the bed and undressed in front of her.

She licked her lips, watching him. As each piece of clothing was removed exposing his body Rachel said, “Oh God. You are fanfuckingtastic! Get that over here now.”

Peter couldn’t remember being this hard. Oh, yes he could. The last time he and Rachel made love, ten years ago.

Naked, Peter crawled over the bed to her. Rachel collapsed Peter back on the bed roughly and began to strip off her own clothing.

Impotent? Me? Peter was so hot, he was ready to combust. Before he could reach into the nightstand for a condom, Rachel impaled herself on his stiff cock.

“Holy fuck!”

“Don’t worry, sugar. I’m on the pill.”

Peter’s cock throbbed and tingled inside her. He forced himself to open his eyes. Rachel was the epitome of a sex goddess. Her back arched, her hair wild, and her hips thrusting against him with the aggression of a man. “Rachel! I’m there.” Peter clenched his teeth at the intensity and held onto Rachel’s hips as he soared with the climax. “Fuck! Fuck!”

“That’s it, baby. Come for me.” She gasped, “Yes! Yes!” and pushed against his pelvis, grinding hard.

Peter drove between her legs with all his strength, shivering with orgasmic bliss he hadn’t felt in a lifetime.

Rachel cried out in pleasure, without the slightest modesty. Peter had never experienced a woman so uninhibited before. Or had he? No. Don’t think of her. Don’t!

Rachel lay still on top of him, recuperating.

Peter was pouring with sweat, panting and sucking in air.

Rachel leaned up to gaze at him. “Holy shit, Peter.”

He started to laugh. It felt so good to laugh. They were rolling with hilarity until the tears were flowing from their eyes.

“Come here you.” Peter curled her into his arms. “My little love monster.” He giggled like he was drunk.

“I’m finally in your arms. Where I belong.”

Chapter Two

Without seeing, Peter stared at the gem microscope, the tweezers poised and ready in his hand as a half carat marquise awaited its grade.

“Pete?”

“Hmm?” He turned to his door to see Todd staring at him.

“Wake up. What are you doing?” Todd entered Peter’s office and glanced down at all the unfinished diamonds on Peter’s desk.

Instantly, Peter put the stone under the microscope and assigned it a grade, then placed it back in its paper and took another one, polishing it first before he lifted it in his tweezers. A second later, he dazed off again.

“Peter Barnes not working? I’m stunned. You feel okay?” Todd sat down in a chair next to him.

Peter clicked back into focus. “Yes, I’m fine.” He tried to clamp the fancy shaped stone in the tweezers and it flipped like a rocket and hit the mauve carpet. Pulling out his chair, Peter scanned around for it, then got to his hands and knees, searching.

When he tried to stand up, Peter hit his head on the corner of the desk. “Ow.” Peter placed the marquise on the desktop and rubbed his head, then almost missed the chair when he went to sit down. Peter sat looking at his desk, totally disoriented.

“Uh, Peter?”

“Hmm?” Peter tried to clean his fingerprints off the diamond again, using a soft cloth.

“You want to talk about it?”

“What?” Peter gasped, feeling guilty.

“Things okay with Julie?”

“Sure.” Peter tried to clamp the elongated stone with the tweezers. His hands shook and the diamond torpedoed off once more. Peter slammed down his fist and cursed.

Todd quickly shut the office door, then tugged the drapes over the glass wall, hiding them from the people who passed in the hallway.

On his knees again, Peter grumbled under his breath. “Stupid stone.”

“Peter, talk to me. What the hell is going on?”

“Christ. Where is it?” Peter ran his hands over the carpet.

There was a light knock on the door.

“Come in,” Todd said.

When Peter spun back to see who it was he found, Karen Young, the receptionist, gaping at him. “Shit. Nice ass.”

“What?” Peter sat back on his heels.

Karen covered her mouth and gave Todd a nervous glance at her comment, then said, “Mr. Barnes?”

“Yes, Karen? What? I’m listening.” Peter hit his head on the desk again and swore angrily. “What is it?” Peter asked, adjusting his position on the floor.

A ripping sound stopped him short. Peter glanced down at his leg as the seam on his slacks parted over his thigh. He was about to cry. Peter rubbed his face and checked with the receptionist again. “What did you want?”

Karen gawked at the exposed flesh, then cleared her throat. “There…there’s a woman here to see you. I tried to call you but your phone is off the hook.”

Peter spun back to look at it. It was indeed tilted sideways and not setting right on the cradle. He stood up and touched it, knocking it into place.

“Jesus, Pete.”

“What?” Peter found Todd pointing to his leg. Peter saw the gaping hole went from his knee to his upper thigh. “This just isn’t my day.” Peter tried not to break down and looked up at the ceiling for strength.

“Anyway, she’s in the lunch room.” Karen seemed hypnotized by Peter’s leg.

“Who is? Julie?” Peter waved his hand in front of Karen to get her to look at something beside his thigh.

Karen moaned, “You have the most unbelievable body.”

“Karen,” Todd scolded.

“Uh, no, not Julie. She didn’t give her name.”

Todd asked Peter, “You sure you’re all right?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.” Peter felt the blood drain from his face and ran his hand back through his long hair.

Todd addressed Karen, “Tell her he’ll be there in a moment.”

Karen nodded, then left, yelling over the dividers, “Hey, ladies! Peter Barnes has an awesome rip in his slacks! A must see!”

Knowing Todd had heard her announcement as well, Peter tugged on the material and gazed down at it wistfully. “This is definitely not my day.”

“Well, there is a human inside Peter Barnes after all. You had us believing you were some kind of machine.” Todd stood up and held open the door. “Don’t keep your friend waiting.”

Peter took his suit jacket from the back of his chair, putting it on. He straightened his tie and attempted to tame his wild hair as it stuck to his face from his nervous perspiration.

Todd watched him.

First Peter buttoned, then unbuttoned his jacket, then Peter tried to see his reflection in the window glass.

“What are you doing?” Todd asked.

“Do I look all right?” Peter straightened his jacket again. “I mean other than the hole.” He pointed to the gaping seam. Peter caught a strange angry glare coming from Todd. Envy?

Peter suddenly took a good look at Todd’s thinning head of ginger-colored hair while running his fingers through his own long full brown mane. He studied Todd’s dull red-rimmed eyes and orange beard. The man was not fit. He was fat. And at least ten years older than Peter. For the first time since they began a working relationship, Peter sensed something seriously wrong between them.

Peter’s six foot-two inch frame of solid muscle when compared to Todd’s short, dumpy body was like Peter was slapping Todd in the face unintentionally.

Todd rubbed his hand over his bald spot and pulled his slacks up over his pot belly. “Yeah, whatever.” Todd lowered his head and left the room.

Peter felt like crap for two reasons now. Upsetting Todd and meeting up with a woman he had cheated on Julie with.

He tried not to run, and felt like he was avoiding female co-workers the whole way down the hall. Word had obviously spread about his ripped trousers.

While heads turned his way, and women leaned out of their grey cloth-covered cubicles for a gander at some man-flesh, Peter shied away. He opened the lunch room door to find Rachel standing there flipping idly through a trade magazine.

When Peter entered Rachel’s face lit up and she tossed the magazine aside. “Hello, lover.” She floated over to him.

Peter’s entire body reacted with feelings he had thought he lost a decade ago in Rome. His dick went completely rigid in his slacks again. Nope. Not a one-time fluke. No way.

“I hope I’m not bothering you, coming to your work.”

Rachel stood very close to him making Peter tremble like a little boy.

The door opened and Peter stepped back quickly. Cora, Julie’s good friend, came in to fill her coffee cup. Peter knew she was checking Rachel out to report the gossip if needed.

“We can’t talk here,” Peter whispered.

“Come out to lunch with me then.” Rachel peeked back at the older woman who was taking her time with the coffee pot.

Nodding, Peter felt his pockets for his car keys, then walked passed the receptionist. “I’ll be out to lunch.”

Karen nodded, eyes wide.

Peter spotted Fern, who stepped behind Karen to watch Peter out of the glass front.

Peter heard Fern ask, “Who the hell is that?”

Karen sighed. “I don’t know. But, man, is she lucky.”

Peter urged Rachel to continue to the exit, cringing at the content of the conversation of the two women.

“I’ll bet his fiancée is clueless. If he’s going to cheat, I’m going to try harder.”

“Fuck off,” Peter replied to Fern’s comment under his breath, and showed Rachel where he parked his car.

Now completely guilt ridden and preoccupied, Peter drove in silence, panicking about Fern’s comment and the possibility of what Cora would repeat to Julie.

Neither he nor Rachel spoke a word until Peter pulled into the lot of a restaurant. He shut the engine. “You can’t show up like this. Julie will find out.”

“You don’t love her, Peter.” Rachel leaned her hand on Peter’s leg and stared into his eyes.

Peter felt her touch his skin through the tear and jumped nervously.

Rachel sat back to have a look. “You’re ripped.”

“I know.” He exhaled tiredly.

Rachel reached her entire hand inside the gaping hole, rubbing up and down Peter’s leg seductively.

“Don’t. Please.” His cock went rigid and it made him shiver.

“Peter, I know how to make you happy.”

Covering his face, Peter moaned, “Oh, Christ, what am I supposed to do?”

Rachel found his hard dick under his briefs and wrapped her fingers around it.

He flinched at the contact. “Please stop.”

Ignoring him, Rachel climbed on Peter’s lap, kissing and licking his neck.

“Oh God. Help me.” Peter was about to come. He couldn’t believe what Rachel did to him sexually. A day ago he was about to make an appointment with the doctor to see if he was completely impotent. Not now.

“I love you. I want you.” She stroked Peter until he was squirming.

Fuck! “I can’t. I’m engaged.” Peter spread his legs wider and wanted to come urgently.

“Get un-engaged.” Rachel opened his trouser button and worked his zipper down.

Peter glanced out the windshield in paranoia. “Rachel, we can’t. We’re in a parking lot.”

“Come to my hotel.” Rachel exposed his dick and stroked it with her fingertips.

“You…you got a room?” He swallowed nervously as he seeped pre-cum and the head of his dick turned purple.

“Mm hmm.” Rachel traced her tongue up Peter’s neck to his ear as she stroked him. “Yes. On Route 17. The Holiday Inn. Real close to your apartment. Room three-twelve.”

“Ah…” He stretched out his legs as she moved her palm up and down his hardness. “Oh, Jesus.” Now I have to come.

After Rachel took a quick peek out of the window, she lowered to take him in her mouth.

Spying around in complete paranoia, he moaned, “Rachel! I can’t come this way. Ah! Oh, Christ. Never mind. I’m coming.” He closed his eyes and swooned as Rachel did things to him with her tongue and fingers that he had never had done before. The climax seemed to go on and on. Peter tensed his body and felt her sucking him dry. He broke out in another cool sweat. “Mother-fucker…” I’m so dead.

Rachel lapped at his slit softly as he recovered, then sat back to stare down at him.

Peter took a peek. He was still gleaming with her saliva and large.

“I thought you said you couldn’t come this way.”

“I lied.” He laughed shyly, then smiled at her with a silly grin. “What are you doing to my life, Rachel Renee?”

“I’m making it better. I’m taking you to a new level. Peter, I love you.”

“But I’m engaged to Julie Pepper.”

“Pepper? Oh, please.” She rolled her eyes and released all physical contact with Peter. “Where’s Richard living nowadays?” She flipped the visor down, re-applying her lipstick.

Peter tucked his dick back into his pants. “Why are you asking about my father?”

“I don’t know. He still as handsome as ever?”

Peter knew it was said just to needle him. Once he closed his zipper, Peter grabbed Rachel’s arm. “I don’t want you seeing him.”

“Why not? I think it would be fun.”

“No! I forbid you!”

She laughed. “You forbid me? How will you stop me?”

Peter reached his arms around her in the small space of the car’s front seat and embraced her. “No! You’re only mine. Do you hear me?”

“Then make me yours, Peter Barnes,” she whispered.

Pain shot through him. Peter clenched his teeth and crushed Rachel against his chest as image flashes of Wendy’s scent, her face, her hair, rushed over him. Wendy in his father’s arms, kissing his father. Peter’s emotions welled up, his anger enflamed. “No! He can never have you!”

Rachel smiled smugly. “Then make me yours.”

Peter checked his watch once more as he was buzzed back into the secure office building. He’d been gone nearly two hours. He tried to sneak passed all the employees to his office.

Cora was waiting for him in the hall outside her cubicle, arms crossed.

Knowing exactly what she was assuming, Peter touched Cora’s elbow and led her to the conference room, closing the door. “It’s not what you think.”

“Oh, no?”

“She’s an old friend. I haven’t seen her in a decade.”

Cora snorted in disbelief.

“Please, Cora. There’s no reason to hurt Julie with rumors. I’ll tell Julie all about her.”

“All?” Cora pulled on Peter’s collar to show him a pink lipstick smudge.

“We hugged hello and good-bye.”

“Uh huh.”

“Cora, please. I have never asked you for a thing. I’m begging you. Don’t hurt Julie unnecessarily.”

“All right, Peter. You’re right. I don’t want to see Julie hurt. But if you’re lying, I’ll kill you.”

Peter shifted his weight nervously. Lying never came easy for him. “Thanks, I owe you one.” He kissed Cora’s cheek and she blushed crimson.

Peter found Todd seated in his office, waiting for him.

“Sorry, I’m late.” Peter took off his jacket and hung it behind the door.

Todd raised his bushy red eyebrows, then pointed to the lost little marquise, obviously located by him and in the locking tweezers.

“Thanks.” Peter took his seat, held it under the scope and assigned the diamond a grade.

“Should I mind my own business? Or did you have an afternoon snack?”

Peter shot Todd a terrified look. “Christ, is it that obvious?” His cheeks felt boiling hot.

“To me it is.”

Relaxing his hands between his legs, the tweezers hanging from his fingers precariously, Peter said, “Todd, what the hell am I doing?”

“I don’t know. This is way out of character for you. You sure you can handle this? You realize this is our busiest season. I need you one hundred percent.” He paused. “Look, I don’t care what you do in your personal life. Just keep it away from work. We don’t need any more gossip around here. You, my handsome friend, are all they talk about.” Todd stood, walking to the office door, glancing back at Peter. “Good God man! Don’t walk out into the office like that again. The women haven’t stopped tittering over it all afternoon. You’re obscene!”

Peter noticed the gap in his slacks had doubled in size, most likely from Rachel’s prodding hands. Peter sat up, put the tweezers aside and grabbed a stapler trying to close the gap with it. “I’m sorry, Todd. You’re right. I have a ton of work to get through. It won’t happen again.” The staples weren’t working so Peter gave up.

Peter met Todd’s shake of the head as Todd opened the curtains once more. At the sight of Todd’s face, the female employees lingering all scurried off.

Sighing tiredly, Peter didn’t know what to say or do so he buried himself in his work as Todd left.

A minute later Julie phoned from the gallery opening. “Can you stop by before you go home?”

Out of guilt, Peter agreed and wondered if he should sit Julie down and talk to her about Rachel. I am so clueless.

Peter tried to focus on his work, but kept drifting off to the memory of Rachel sucking his cock in the restaurant parking lot.

At six o’clock, Peter finally locked the diamonds up in the vault and checked his office, securing it, then he straightened his jacket and loosened his tie.

Todd met Peter in the hall. They were the last two employees to leave the building.

“Pete, did you get that three carat out?”

“Yes, I Fed X’d it. I hope the sale goes through. It’s a beautiful stone.”

“I wouldn’t worry. Stan said he’s got the down payment and credit has been approved.” Todd set the alarm and double-locked the door.

“Oh. Very good.”

“What did it turn out to be?”

Peter said, “SI1, G. They got a good deal on it. Do you know if we re-order it we’d pay fifteen percent more?”

“Don’t tell me that.”

The cold November air whipped Peter’s hair in front of his face. He sealed his coat tighter against him.

A set of headlights lit them up in the dark.

Peter squinted into the bright light. Like luminous cat’s eyes, they glowed and shut off again. The car door opened and a fur coat swayed towards them seductively.

“Oh, shit,” Peter mumbled.

“Someone you know?”

Rachel said, “Good-evening, gentlemen.”

“Hello!” Todd appeared eager for an introduction.

“Todd Singer, this is Rachel Saunders,” Peter said, feeling terminally terrified.

Todd shook Rachel’s hand.

“Working late? You two are silly workaholics,” she scolded.

“Welcome to retail at Christmas.” Todd grinned.

Rachel laughed softly.

Peter didn’t know what to say.

Todd cleared his throat. “Well, I’m off home. See you, Peter. Nice meeting you, Ms. Saunders.”

Peter watched Todd climb into his Ford station wagon. Peter waited until Todd was gone before he said, “I have to meet Julie tonight.”

“Okay. I wasn’t sure. We didn’t talk very much earlier.” Rachel leaned on Peter and said, “You know where my hotel is. If you want to stop by I’ll be there for you.”

“Okay. Good. I mean, I don’t know what I’m doing, but, I know where you are.” Peter felt like a babbling idiot.

Rachel giggled. “Good-night, lover.” She kissed him.

Groaning at the taste of her lips, Peter engulfed her in his embrace, kissing her, allowing her to fuck his mouth aggressively with her tongue. When she grabbed his hard-on and stroked it, Peter stepped back. “Okay. Let me go before I don’t let you go.”

“See ya soon?” Rachel ran her hand down his arm, clasping his fingers and releasing them.

“Yes. Soon.” Peter accepted her peck on the lips and waited as she walked back to her Corvette, watching her drive off. When she did, Peter stared at the empty street for a long while.

The gallery was packed, filled with patrons, all drinking, smoking, and laughing loudly. A woman’s voice echoed in the room like the shriek of a hyena.

Peter took off his overcoat and draped it over his arm, searching for Julie. He found her talking to a couple who appeared as if they were going to make a purchase. Peter was offered a glass of wine from a server and lifted one off the tray, thanking the man.

Not wanting to disturb Julie, Peter wandered around inspecting the artwork, pausing in front of something that caught his eye. It was a collage of mixed media consisting of sawdust, plaster, some unidentified objects, and a neck and shoulders of a woman pasted onto a zebra’s body.

Another patron moved next to Peter to admire the artwork with him. “It evokes a deep sense of emotion. A kind of awakening of the spirit.”

Peter glanced at the woman in disbelief. She was wearing a chartreuse turban on her head and oversized Hawaiian beads strung around her neck. Her eyes were heavily painted and her lashes were obviously fake.

“You feel that way when you look at it?” he asked.

She studied Peter first before answering, then said, “I see more into it than reaches the surface. There is a lot of hidden hostility and revenge shouting out from its mottled texture.”

Absorbing her words, Peter gazed back at the painting, trying to see something other than mud. Finishing his wine in a gulp, he replied, “You can’t be serious. It looks like an infant took a crap in a diaper, then got hold of a textbook and destroyed it with scissors.” When Peter found her shocked expression he added, “Oh, God, you’re not the artist, are you?”

She stared at him with her mouth open, then began laughing. “No. But I find your views genuinely honest and refreshing. My name’s Dorothy. I’m truly glad to meet you.” She held out her hand.

“Peter Barnes.” When Peter adjusted his coat to take her hand, his naked leg was revealed.

“You’re ripped.”

“I know.” He sighed.

“Very nice tear. Very well placed indeed.” Dorothy stepped back to admire it.

Peter reached down and tried to bring the fabric together, clearing his throat nervously.

“How about this one?” Dorothy hooked Peter’s elbow and brought him to a free standing pedestal. “Totally different artist. What do you think?”

The piece was fiberglass and steel, its angles were sharp and smooth in shades of blue.

Peter tilted his head. “I’m sorry. I just don’t get this modern stuff. I like landscapes, figures and things.” He tried not to blush. “You must find me a bit ignorant. I really should try to understand.”

“No. Not at all.” Dorothy touched his shoulder and smiled. “I like a man who’s not afraid to be honest and speak his mind. You know, some people will give you all the fluff. Ho hum garbage. It’s truly refreshing, Peter, don’t change a thing about your views.” She sipped her wine and stared back at his thigh. “What is it you do for a living? Are you a model?”

At the memories that brought Peter, a sad smile raced over his lips. “I used to be. Long ago for a community college.”

“Art modeling?”

“Yes. I did my share of standing on the platform.” He peeked over at Julie assuming she was attempting to close the sale.

“Not recently though?” Dorothy asked.

“Huh? Oh no.” Peter shook his head.

“Too bad. You’re marvelous. Simply marvelous.” Dorothy made it very obvious she was looking into the gaping tear in his slacks.

Peter cleared his throat and reached down to tug the fabric closed again.

“What would it take to entice you back to the platform?”

“Me? Model now? I was seventeen. I don’t think I could remove my clothing like that in front of people anymore. I’ve regained my modesty.”

“That’s really a shame.”

“Hello, Peter,” Julie said and glanced sideways at Dorothy. Julie pointed to Peter’s leg. “You’re ripped.”

“I know.” Peter grew weary.

Julie physically turned Peter away from Dorothy, and said to Peter, “I’m still really busy. I had no idea there would be this kind of turn out. I won’t get out of here for a few more hours.”

Peter checked his watch. “I’m exhausted. I don’t think I can last.”

“Well, let’s not bother tonight and we’ll see each other tomorrow.”

Peter noticed Dorothy pointing him out to one of her friends. He wanted to leave. “Thanks. I’ll give you a call after I put in a few hours at the office.”

“Okay, don’t forget. We pick a date this weekend.” Julie hurried back to the buying couple.

Peter’s mood soured at the thought of telling Julie about Rachel. As Julie walked away, Peter studied her short cropped straight brown hair and petite figure. Julie couldn’t hold a candle to Rachel. Not in any category.

Dorothy enquired, “Your wife?”

“Fiancée.” Peter balanced his empty wine glass on a passing tray.

“What a very lucky girl.”

Wallowing in guilt, Peter put his coat on.

“Leaving?”

He nodded.

“Too bad, I was enjoying your leg immensely.” Dorothy waited. “It was a joke.”

“Oh. Right.” Peter felt burdened and heavy-hearted suddenly.

Dorothy followed him to the door. “You should be a critic. Your comments would really cut them down to size.”

Peter paused, finding his car keys. “I’m the last one that should be critical of others.”

“Oh!” Dorothy stared at Peter curiously. “Well, call me if you ever decide to come back to modeling.” She handed him one of her business cards. “I’ll pay you whatever it takes,” she whispered and winked at him.

Gazing down at the card in her polished nails, Peter replied, “You don’t own that much.” He pivoted on his heels and headed out the door.

“Do you work on credit?” she yelled after him.

Peter flinched and ignored it, walking to his car. He turned on the radio and scanned through the stations. He stopped when he heard his brother’s voice and excitedly turned the volume up. Peter sang the song with Keith, visualizing Keith’s appearance on the music video. He missed Keith, very badly, and wished he could talk to him tonight and ask Keith what he should do about Rachel. Keith would know what to do. Checking his watch, Peter noted it was seven-thirty.

He felt anxious and knew he would never get any rest. Where are you, Keith? Peter didn’t even know if he was in the States or touring at the moment. Was he home? Could he call him?

The last time Peter spoke to Keith, it was just a quick hello before Keith began his tour with Dead Liverpool on the west coast. Keith was their designated lead act, an important part of the band’s performance.

Peter decided he would call Keith the next chance he got. Meanwhile, Peter drove to a hotel on Route 17.

He parked and stared at the façade. What was he doing there? Shouldn’t he just go home, open a beer, and turn on the TV?

Is it over between me and Julie? How can I get married now? Now that Rachel is back in my life?

Peter rubbed his face tiredly. I’m losing it again.

Having no resources to guide him on a sane path, Peter chose Julie because she meant security and a calm home life.

But with Julie he felt dead inside. Dead.

Julie could never bring any fire out in him. Wendy had taken it with her on the day she kissed his father and admitted she slept with Keith in that parlor in Rome so long ago. They may as well have torn Peter’s heart out and thrown it into the fireplace right then.

What about Rachel? Would he be happy with her? Or was Rachel just the consolation prize after not managing to hold on to Wendy?

Where was Wendy now? Should he look for her? What would they do if they met? Was she remarried? In the United States? Dating his father again? Peter didn’t know. He was afraid to find out.

Resigned to do at least something that made his heart race, Peter climbed out of the car and walked up to the lobby entrance. His mind was a blank. This is for my body. Leave your mind at the door.

He located the elevator, waited as the doors closed, then pushed button number three. He was alone. Alone in the small elevator and in his dreary thoughts. The door opened and he found three-twelve. Rachel’s room. Yet still he was undecided.

When the door swung open Peter jumped out of his skin.

Rachel was as surprised as he was. “Peter!”

Caught, embarrassed, Peter looked down at his feet and didn’t know what to say.

Rachel grabbed Peter’s arm and brought him inside. “I was just heading to the lounge for a drink. I didn’t think I would see you.” She grabbed his shirt collar. “Come here.”

Peter was escorted to the bedroom where Rachel had him sit on the bed.

“Get naked, gorgeous.” Rachel pushed Peter’s coat off his shoulders and went to work on his tie, sliding it off with a whoosh of fabric. Next she opened his shirt. Peter splayed out on the bed as Rachel made for his mouth.

Peter felt comfort in her kisses. Maybe this is a way to heal my broken heart.

Peter caught his breath as Rachel spread his shirt wide over his torso. She began kissing and licking his skin. “I knew this was what you wanted. I know how to please you, Peter.”

Lying flat, Peter helped Rachel remove his clothing. His slacks dropped to the carpet. Peter concentrated on everything Rachel was touching and kissing, letting out a long low groan.

When Rachel climbed off the bed to undress Peter scooted up higher, propping himself on the pillows to watch her. Her hair fell softly around her smooth shoulders, her breasts were large and firm like her mother’s, her waist, narrow and her legs were lean and long.

His mouth watered at the sight. It was so easy to imagine Wendy in her place. “What are you doing?” he asked as Rachel tried to slip something over his hand.

“Let me tie you up.”

“What? What for?” Peter jerked back his wrist.

“It’s just to play, Peter. I want to tease you a little. I would never hurt you.” Rachel looped a red ribbon around his wrist, securing it to the bed.

“No, Rachel, I don’t think so. Just love me.” He tried to pull his arm back.

“Please, Peter. It’s always been a fantasy of mine to have someone as beautiful as you at my sexual mercy. Please, lover?”

Peter tried to read her blue eyes. The innocence in them contrasted the request. “I don’t know if I like the idea.”

“We’ll try it once. If you hate it, we’ll never do it again.” Rachel finished securing his right hand and went for his left.

“Rachel…I don’t know.”

She tied his left hand, then reached for his ankles.

“This is really blowing the mood.” Peter referred to his loss of an erection.

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll fix you.” A cord secured each of his limbs to the bed. Suddenly Peter couldn’t catch his breath.

Rachel sat back and stared at him.

Peter looked down at himself. His large, muscular body was now helpless. His mood was far from calm. “I don’t like it, please untie me.” The bindings were bringing a nightmarish memory from his childhood at being beaten and weak. He trembled nervously.

Ignoring his request, Rachel crawled between his thighs to take his limp cock into her mouth.

There was a black hole of terror threatening to engulf Peter. He tugged at the bindings in frustration, shivering in fear as she worked on getting him hard once more. “Rachel, not like this. It’s not fair. I need to touch you too.”

Rachel leaned up and met his eyes, “Shh, or I’ll put a gag in your mouth.”

“No, you won’t!” He became angry, stretching back to the cords to see how they were tied.

Rachel fondled his balls and started licking him again.

“Jesus, Rachel.” Peter stopped struggling. With no options left, he closed his eyes and surrendered. It was apparent Rachel would have her way no matter what he wished so he lay still as stone and allowed her to dominate.

After a moment Peter figured out Rachel’s game plan, and he was not happy. Rachel kept bringing him close to the brink of a climax and then stopping, time after time, sitting back to stare at his expression.

“This is torture!” He wrenched at the bonds in fury.

“Mm, slow, sexual torture.” She tickled the underside of his cock with her fingertip.

Peter arched his back, raising his hips off the bed and tried to twist free. Instantly Rachel used her weight to push his legs flat and took him back into her mouth. She continued to get him close to an orgasm and stopping until Peter thought he was about to cry.

“Rachel! Let me come!” Peter heard his own volume and bit his lip.

Finally Rachel relented and stood off the bed, only to return with something hidden in her hand. Peter flexed his arms to get free, making the bed creak.

With the casualness of a chef in the kitchen preparing a recipe, Rachel opened a small tube and took out a dab of gel, then settled back between Peter’s legs.

“What the hell are you doing?” Peter began to regret ever coming to see her. He tried to slink back and couldn’t.

“Chill, lover.” She resumed sucking on his cock and in addition she slid a finger inside his ass.

“Holy fuck!” At the penetration, Peter broke out in a wash of chills and cool sweat. “I’m coming.”

She stopped abruptly and sat back.

The edge of the climax receded. Peter growled in frustration and roared, “Rachel, Please! I can’t take it anymore. Let me come!”

“Ha! But you can take it.” She grinned wickedly. “I took Peter Barnes’ cherry. How cool is that?”

“Oh God.” Peter clenched his teeth as she went for him again, sucking his cock and probing his ass. “Rachel! In God’s name, what are you doing to me?” It was too much. In earnest, Peter began yanking on the cords. Tears filled his eyes, and his panting turned to sobs.

Immediately Rachel stopped what she was doing and climbed on top of him, pushing his throbbing dick inside her. He clenched his fists as Rachel pumped her hips like a demon.

Finally allowed to come, Peter couldn’t believe the intensity. As he shot semen into her, Peter nearly screamed from the pleasure, holding back his roar and grunting loudly instead, then lay still gasping and moaning in disbelief.

Rachel curled up on top of him as he rested. His whole body was spent.

Just as his respiration slowed to a normal rate, Rachel reached to all four corners and released his arms and legs.

With slow drug-like movements, Peter cradled her and closed his eyes. He refused to open them. A tear fell from one and he felt her kiss it.

“I love you, Peter.”

Peter held back a sob with everything he possessed.

Chapter Three

The next morning was Saturday. Peter pulled into the parking lot of his office, unshaven, and wearing his worn blue jeans. He decided to put in just three hours of work and then meet Julie for lunch.

He was buzzed into the building by Karen, another volunteer who wanted Saturday overtime. Peter wished her a good-morning as she followed him to the vault. “Yes?” Peter asked her from over his shoulder.

“I just wanted to tell you that Julie called.”

“Thank you.” When Peter had stopped home to change his clothing after being out all night, he noticed the message light blinking on his answering machine and assumed Julie had been looking for him.

Peter spied back at Karen once more as he knelt down to use the combination to the safe. She was still hovering. “Anything else?” Peter removed a box of diamonds from the interior and stood up.

“I love how different you look on Saturdays. You know, your casual clothing, the soft faded, skin-tight jeans, your supple black leather jacket, your wild long hair and dark five o’clock shadow.” Her eyes glazed. “Yum.”

“Er. Thanks.” Peter felt his face get hot and closed the diamond safe behind him.

“Well, you do look different today, Mr. Barnes.”

“Weekends. You know.” He tried to slip away.

“Yes, it’s more relaxed. And you look so happy. I guess the idea of getting married really feels great, huh?”

His expression dropped.

“Oh, well, that’s all really. You just look especially handsome today.” Karen shrugged and walked out of the room.

Visions of last night and being bound to a bed brought a shiver over Peter. Chiding himself for thinking about it, Peter felt his dick twitch. With an effort he shook off that distracting thought and headed to his office.

Singing with the radio, I don’t want to live without your love by Chicago, Peter blasted loud rock and roll for two hours as he worked without an interruption, until his phone ringing woke him up. “This is Peter.” He lowered the music.

“Well, hello! I left you a message earlier, did you get it?”

“Yes. I did.” Peter chewed his lip as the guilt began to churn his stomach.

“Did you sleep in? I tried your home number first but you weren’t there.”

“I may have been in the shower. I didn’t hear the phone.” He set the tweezers and diamond aside.

“Did you sleep well? You looked really exhausted at the gallery.”

“Yes.” As Peter began to perspire from nerves, he tried to push the hair out of his eyes.

“When will you be picking me up at the gallery?”

“I’d like to put in one more hour. Is that all right?”

“Then about noon?”

He checked the clock. “Yes, noon.”

“Okay, see you then.”

Peter hung up and sighed deeply. Somehow he had to end this tactfully. He just wasn’t any good at any of this.

Elevating the tweezers again, Peter went back to looking through the gemscope. Just before he cranked up the volume on Valerie by Steve Winwood, the phone rang. Peter assumed it was Julie forgetting to mention something.

“This is Peter.”

“How’s my sex slave?”

A sensation as powerful as an electric shock surged through Peter.

“I want you tonight.”

“I…I’m busy.” His hands began shaking so badly, he set the tweezers down.

“When will you be available?”

“I don’t know.”

“I need you. I want your body again.”

Instantly Peter grew hard as a rock and couldn’t believe the affect this woman had on him.

“You still there?”

“Yes. I need to contact you from now on. Please.”

“When?”

“I’m not sure.” His heart started pounding. He couldn’t wait to see Rachel again.

“Tomorrow? It’s Sunday.”

Peter knew Julie was expecting them at her mother’s house on Sunday to pick the date. “Let me call you later this evening.”

“Okay. If I’m not in, leave a message with the front desk.”

“Okay, I will.”

“I love you, Peter.”

“I…I…” He couldn’t say it.

“I know.”

The line disconnected. Hanging up, Peter stared at the pile of diamonds he still had to grade. There was no way he could think straight any longer. Not after a phone call like that. All he’d be thinking about was Rachel sucking him off and fucking him while he was bound to the bed. “Done.” Peter shut off the radio.

He packed the diamonds up and brought them to the vault. On his way Peter met Todd coming out of his office.

“Hey, we ordered some pizza. It’s in the lunch room.”

Fern squeezed passed them, rubbing against Peter’s backside as she did. “He never eats with us commoners. Are you too pretty for the rest of us, Peter?”

Unable to think of why Fern was being so rude, Peter stared at Fern as he tried to come up with an answer.

Fern punched his shoulder playfully. “I was only joking.”

Todd reached out for the box of diamonds Peter was holding. “I’ll take these back for you. Go have a slice and be social.” Todd nodded to Peter and gestured to the door.

As if it was her cue, Fern grabbed Peter’s hand and started dragging him.

When Peter came through the door of the lunch room, it fell silent. He took his hand back from Fern quickly and stuck it into his jeans’ pocket.

There were about a dozen women present, eager for the overtime in the run up to Christmas. They offered Peter a slice of pizza pie. He declined. “I’m taking Julie out.”

Todd came in shortly after and stared eating a slice of the pepperoni pie. “Aren’t you hungry, Pete?”

“Yes, but, I’m—”

“He’s taking his fiancée out,” Karen finished Peter’s sentence for him.

“When is the wedding?” Amy asked.

A few of the other women started to throw several personal questions at him. Peter never socialized with the staff, rarely leaving his own office. Suddenly they had the chance to nail him with an interview and Peter was not happy about it.

Peter didn’t like sharing any details about his life. Not one bit. While they competed to be the loudest or exchanged what they knew about him, Peter never opened his mouth.

Peter noticed Todd watching him. At the smirk on Todd’s face, Peter wondered if Todd was feeling a little guilty pleasure at seeing Peter squirm.

“Who was that blonde lady, Peter?” Fern asked, wiping her chin with a napkin. “If you’re dating again, I want to know it.”

“You’re dating again?” Karen asked.

It grew silent. The other women didn’t answer for him this time.

Suddenly Peter became very hot and uncomfortable. He combed his fingers back through his hair and cleared his throat.

“Peter Barnes, are you available now?” one woman asked pointedly.

Peter could see Todd’s joy at the pain this was inflicting on him. Todd’s joy hurt Peter deeply. Without a word, Peter turned to the door and left. He could hear the crowd’s surprise at his abrupt reaction.

With her hand on his arm, Fern stopped Peter.

“Leave me alone,” Peter said.

Fern blocked his path. “We were all just kidding you. You need to lighten up, Peter. It was just in fun.”

“I don’t like your idea of fun,” he sneered.

“It’s just that if you’re willing to date another woman, it’s only fair that you give other women a chance. I mean, me a chance.”

In complete frustration, Peter replied, “Fern, look, I don’t—”

With the speed of a cobra, Fern reached up, wrapped her arms around Peter’s neck and kissed him.

Choking in shock, Peter jerked away from her, pushing her backwards.

“Do you have any idea how long I have waited to do that to you?” she moaned.

“For Christ’s sake!” Peter hurried to his office and grabbed his jacket, locking the office door as he left.

With a cloud of fury over his head at the violation, Peter drove to the gallery and looked for Julie. One of her colleagues advised him Julie wasn’t there yet. “I’ll wait in the lobby. Thanks.”

Before Peter sat down on a red leather contemporary sofa set, Peter noticed a table with magazines on it. One issue had a photo of Keith on the cover. ‘1988’s Sexiest Man.’ Keith was standing with his guitar, shirtless, in leather jeans. His hair was long and framed his face, his eyes were painted with black liner and his lips were glossed. “Huh,” Peter said aloud. He was surprised Keith was selected. After all, Keith was openly gay. Peter flipped through the issue to see if there was an article written about Keith.

Julie appeared from around the side of the building and opened the door. “You’re early. Were you waiting long? I thought you said noon.”

Peter held up the magazine. “Look. Keith.”

Julie rolled her eyes and her lip curled in disgust. “Mother’s expecting us at around eleven tomorrow. Do you want to spend the night at my place tonight?”

He tossed the magazine down and shrugged. “Why? I’ve never spent the night there before?”

“I know. But seeing as we’re about to set a date now I don’t think the church would object.”

Peter couldn’t care less about what the church thought. “Forget it. Let’s worry about it after lunch.” He opened the glass door for Julie and escorted her to his car. “You have a preference?”

“No, anything’s fine.”

The meal at the Parkway Diner seemed as bland as their relationship. Without exchanging more than a few words the entire time, Peter wondered why they were even a couple. They had nothing in common.

They finished lunch and stood at Peter’s car.

“What are we doing now? Should I take you back to the gallery?” he asked.

“I have time since you came early. Do you want to go back to your place for an hour?”

“Okay.” The drive to Paramus was silent.

Peter tossed his keys on the kitchen table and noticed the light on his answering machine still blinking. Ignoring it, knowing who might be on it, Peter checked the time as Julie made herself comfortable on his living room sofa. “You mind if I try Keith’s number? I really need to get a hold of him and have no idea where he is.”

Predictably, she snorted in distaste.

“Gee, thanks.” Peter glared at her and picked up the phone.

Julie turned the television on and flipped the channels in obvious irritation.

Peter gave her his back as he attempted to listen to the connection with this background distraction. When someone actually answered Peter was amazed. “Terry?”

“Is this beauty number two?”

Peter replied, “You can only get away with that because of your accent.”

“You’re the one with the accent, love, not I.”

“Is Keith around? I really need to talk to him.”

“I think I can find him in all this chaos. Hold on.”

Peter could hear loud music in the background and couldn’t tell if it was live or not. “Julie, can you lower that a little?”

She adjusted the volume and shot Peter an angry glare.

“Pete?”

“Keith! I can’t believe I finally have you on the phone.”

“I’ve missed you, Peter. More than you know.”

“Are you in town for long?”

“No, only about a month, then we’re off again.”

Peeking back at Julie quickly, Peter cupped the receiver. “I need to see you.”

“Come now. We’re having a small get together here, but it’s a good chance for us to catch up.”

“Will we be able to talk in private?”

“Yes, of course, Peter. No one will bother us. You can have me all to yourself if you want.”

“Good. I’ll be there as fast as I can.” Peter hung up and spun around to a scowl. With the attitude and the irritation Julie showed for Keith, it had come to the point where Peter despised her for her intolerance.

Inhaling for strength, Peter met that rude expression. “I’ll be heading to the city to see him.”

“When? Tonight?”

“No. Now. He doesn’t have a lot of time and I want to talk to him before he leaves again.”

“I’m not going,” she snapped.

“I didn’t think you would.” Peter took his keys off the table. “Let me take you back to the gallery.”

In a huff, Julie turned off the television. “I don’t like the idea of you going into New York and associating with your flaky brother.”

“I didn’t ask you for your opinion.”

“What on earth has gotten into you? I told you I don’t want you to go.”

“I heard you. But I’m still going.”

“Oh great. They’ll all be doped up on some hallucinogenic drug and groping you.”

“Christ, that’s truly ignorant, Julie. You’ve never even met Keith.”

“All those queer rock stars are the same.”

“How dare you insult him to my face.” Peter puffed up angrily.

“You never get angry at me, Peter, what’s wrong with you?”

He turned away and headed to the door.

“Wait! Where are you going? I’m still talking to you.”

“I don’t have to stand here and listen to you insult my family. If they’re not good enough for you, maybe neither am I.” He put his hand on the doorknob.

“Peter!” Julie ran to him and clung on. “Wait. Let’s talk this out.”

“Your talk disgusts me.” Peter pushed her away.

“What’s wrong? This is so unlike you. What’s going on in your head?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I want to see Keith and you don’t. End of story.”

She picked up her coat and purse. “Okay. If that’s all it is. Fine. We’re still getting together tomorrow to set the date, right?”

Grinding his teeth, Peter didn’t answer. He drove her to gallery, ignoring her questions and brooding silently.

On his way to New York City, Peter headed eastbound on Route 4, approached the Route 17 junction and without a second thought he turned off the highway at the cloverleaf and continued northbound for a few miles. He shut off the car motor, staring at the Holiday Inn. The afternoon with Julie left him frustrated and angry. Julie knew something was wrong. All she kept talking about was ‘setting the date, setting the date’. Peter cringed. It was the furthest thing from his mind now.

Walking into the lobby, and the elevator, Peter went through scenarios in his head of breaking it off. They all seemed cruel and heartless. He wished Julie would end it first. Peter dreaded Julie’s tears and knew all too well the pain of a broken heart. His would never heal. At least Rachel was an acceptable Band-aide.

Taking the elevator to her floor, Peter knocked lightly on her door. When no one answered he tried the knob. The door was not locked. Peter imagined catching Rachel in bed with another man.

Peter stepped in, hearing two women talking. One voice made him freeze in fear.  Oh God. No!

Forcing himself to move closer, Peter caught sight of her. And she was just as gorgeous as he had remembered. He couldn’t believe the day had arrived and now he had to live through it. He was hoping to avoid it eternally.

Peter knew the women were unaware he was present.

Rachel was putting on her coat as Wendy said, “I don’t see why I can’t just say hello to him. You don’t have to be so selfish.”

“No, Mother. Are we going shopping or what?” Rachel appeared furious. She turned to the door and gasped, startled at seeing Peter standing there.

Wendy spun around to look. The color ran from her cheeks. “Oh, my God. Peter! Look at you.”

“Hands off, Mother!” Rachel moved quickly across the room to claim him.

Peter stared at Wendy in awe. The pain and longing shot through him like a blast of buckshot.

Wendy shook her head slowly. “Peter John Barnes, you have surpassed Richard in every way.”

Completely numb, Peter gazed at Wendy.

Wendy moved Rachel aside physically and embraced Peter, groaning in pleasure. “Oh, I’ve missed you.”

Rachel began counting to ten out loud in anger.

Peter closed his eyes. The pleasure of touching Wendy came with the sorrow of losing her. Half of him wanted to crush her in joy, the other to throw her backwards in betrayal. Forcing himself to release her, Peter broke the embrace and stepped aside from her.

“Let me look at you.” Wendy drew a breath of air through her teeth in a hiss. “My beautiful, Peter. You are far better than that young angel I captured on canvas so many years ago.”

“He’s not ‘your Peter’ anymore, Mother. So lay off.” Rachel physically shifted Wendy aside and wrapped her arm around Peter’s elbow.

“How are you? Tell me how you’ve been. Catch me up.” Wendy asked excitedly.

“He didn’t come here to reminisce. He came here to see me.”

“Oh, nonsense! He has a minute.” Wendy tried to grab Peter’s free hand.

“Mother!” Rachel attempted to yank Peter back from her clutches.

Waiting for them to pause for breath, Peter glanced from one woman to the other, while flashes of memories washed over him like shock waves.

“What did you want, Peter?” Rachel asked, “an early dinner out?”

Trying his best to think clearly, Peter replied, staring at Wendy. “I came to invite you to a party in the City with me.”

“Me?” Wendy pointed to herself.

“No.” Realizing his mistake, Peter gestured to Rachel.

“See!” Rachel tightened her grip on him. “Let’s go.”

“He has a minute.” Wendy stopped them.

“We don’t want to hit traffic!” Rachel urged Peter to the door.

“It’s too late. There’s always traffic heading to New York.” Wendy tugged Peter back again.

“Hold on!” Peter started to feel like taffy. “Wendy. I came to ask Rachel to come and see Keith with me. You remember Keith, don’t you? One of your many conquests?”

Wendy flinched at the jab. “I’m sorry, Peter. Please forgive me.”

“He doesn’t! Let’s go, Peter.” Rachel yanked on his hand.

“I’m staying at the house in Ridgewood again.” Wendy followed them. “I saw your father.”

At the mention of Wendy and his dad, Peter felt sickness wash over him. Making his face a mask, Peter replied. “Good for you. I’m surprised the two of you never got married.” Peter glanced back at Rachel. “You ready?”

Wendy said, “Peter, when can I see you? We need to talk.”

“What do we have to say to each other, Wendy?”

Rachel stood out in the hall, tapping her foot impatiently.

“So many things.” Wendy appeared about to cry.

“I have nothing to say to you.” Peter turned his back on Wendy and walked down the carpeted hall with Rachel. Rachel peeked back over her shoulder, so Peter did as well. Wendy stood in the doorway, wiping at her eyes.

Rachel held Peter’s hand tightly. They didn’t speak until they were in the elevator. “I didn’t expect you tonight. I’m really glad you showed.”

Though Peter did his best to act normal, Peter was still trying to get over seeing Wendy.

Wendy should have been his. They should have been the ones standing together right now. It wasn’t fair the way it turned out. “Huh?” He focused on Rachel’s beaming face. “I hope I wasn’t taking you away from something important.” Peter escorted Rachel out to the parking lot and opened the car door for her.

“No, just shopping. Mom wants me to stay with her in her house in Ridgewood. I know it wouldn’t be a good idea. You know, you two seeing each other every time you stopped by to get me. I need to buy my own house, but I don’t know what to do yet. What do you think, Peter?”

It felt as if Rachel wanted him to say they should buy a home together.

Rachel fastened her seatbelt as Peter backed out of the parking spot. “Well?”

With ambiguity Peter said, “You do what you think is best.” He was already lost. Lost in a world where convention didn’t matter. Where people followed their hearts. He only loved one person in his life, madly, truly, deeply, and she was left standing behind while her daughter made love to him. But that was another time, and Peter had to make the best of it. “I’m glad you’re coming with me.”

“Me too. I love Keith’s music. I have all his cassettes.”

“You do?”

“Yes.” Rachel started singing one of Keith’s songs. Peter was very flattered. He reached for her hand and held it tightly.

“Where’s Julie tonight?”

“I left her home. She has a bad attitude about Keith.”

“Why on earth? He’s absolutely wonderful. He was on the cover of this month’s Men’s Magazine as this year’s sexiest man alive.”

“I know. You believe it?”

Rachel nuzzled against Peter as he drove. “Only because the world doesn’t know you, Peter Barnes. You’re so much hotter than your bother.”

Smiling to himself, Peter felt his heart lighten from its load. “You’re good for me. You make me very calm inside.” Peter had to convince himself of that.

“Calm inside maybe, but excited out.” She cupped her hand over his crotch.

“Not now, Rachel.” In panic Peter spied down as Rachel toyed with his zipper. “Rachel, the tollbooth is coming.”

“Who cares?”

Squirming in nervous anxiety as she sucked his dick, Peter tapped Rachel’s head to get her to sit up. “Christ.” They were three cars away from the attendant. “Rachel. Stop.”

When Rachel leaned up to see where they were, Peter tried to hide his exposed erection.

Trying not to flounder anymore than he already was, Peter found his wallet and handed the woman in the booth a ten dollar bill.

When Peter received his change the woman said, “You better be careful, sugar, when you hit the moon, you don’t hit the gas!”

Rachel cracked up with laughter as Peter felt his cheeks blush bright red.

Peter drove across the George Washington Bridge, feeling Rachel’s demonic gaze on his profile. “You’re nothing but trouble, Ms. Saunders.”

“Yes, with a capital T.” She gave one peek around and went back to sucking his dick.

The entire way to Keith and Terry’s condo, Rachel drove Peter wild until he begged her for a reprieve.

Rachel sat back, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and toyed with him. “I just love doing that to you.”

“Yes, well, I wouldn’t mind if you just did it when we were in private.”

“Fuddy duddy,” she teased.

Peter pulled into a nearby parking lot and closed his slacks. After paying the attendant, he and Rachel walked hand in hand to Keith’s penthouse apartment. They were shown into the lobby by the doorman. “May I help you, sir?”

“Yes. I’ve come to see Keith Barnes.”

“One moment, sir.” The doorman picked up a telephone.

Peter whispered to Rachel, “Do you believe in the ten years since Keith met Terry, I’ve never been here?” Peter looked around the polished art deco interior in delight. “I was either forbid to while I was younger, because of Dad or too chicken to deal with Julie if I came here on my own.”

“Well, you’re here now.” Rachel patted his hand as they were escorted to the elevator.

“Right this way, sir,” the doorman bowed.

The door was opened for them and another attendant stood at the elevator’s controls.

As they exited the elevator, Peter found his brother’s handsome face as he waited in the open doorway and smiled.

Peter said, “Why did I wait so long?”

“Baby brother.” Keith embraced Peter, squeezing him tight. “I’m so glad you came.”

Peter rocked Keith in his arms trying not to get emotional. He leaned back to see Keith’s eyes. “Me too. Ever since I met Julie I’ve neglected you. I’m sorry.” Peter knew it was no secret how Julie felt about Keith. Peter had mentioned it to him.

“You didn’t bring her, did you?” Keith released Peter to look behind him. “Oh. Hello.”

Peter led Rachel into the room and said, “You remember Rachel? Wendy’s daughter? You met her once ten years ago in Rome.”

“Rachel Saunders? You have got to be kidding. How on earth did you two find each other a decade later?”

“I found him.” Rachel wrapped her arms around Peter’s waist.

“Terry!” Keith waved his lover over. “This is Rachel Saunders. You remember the little teenager we met at the Villa in Rome?”

“You’re all grown up. No longer a little girl, eh?” Terry smiled. “Let me take your coats. Go have a drink.”

Peter removed his leather jacket. As Terry took it he whispered quickly to Peter, “I’ve something to discuss with you. In private.”

“In—” Before Peter said another word, Peter connected to his brother’s suspicious stare. Uh oh. Now what? One thing I don’t need is to involve myself in another problem.

“Mind if I mingle?”

“No, Rachel. Go ahead.” Peter touched her shoulder.

“Cool.” She wandered off.

Keith gripped Peter’s arm drew him close. “What happened to Ms. Pepper?”

“I need to talk to you about that.”

“My room is available.”

“Good. Hang on.” Peter walked over to Rachel. “I need to talk to Keith a minute in private. Will you be all right?”

“Sure.” She sipped a drink.

“Hi, Peter.” A strange looking woman winked at him.

“Hi.” Peter wondered who this woman was and how she knew his name. Peter didn’t ask.

As Peter returned to Keith, Terry stopped him. “Where are you going?”

“Just to Keith’s room to talk.”

“Alone?” Terry took a quick peek at Keith, who was waiting by their bedroom door for Peter.

As if Keith knew something Peter didn’t, Keith immediately made his way towards them.

Peter replied to Terry, “Yes, why?”

Terry clammed up as Keith came closer.

“Come on, Pete.” Keith grabbed Peter’s arm, glaring at Terry as he led Peter to the room that he and Terry shared.

Peter walked around it slowly, admiring the collection of gold records and flashy posters. Finding one of his brother, Peter smiled as he admired Keith in his leathers and guitar, then spun around to Keith. “I am so proud of you.”

Keith patted the bed. “Come here and sit with me.”

Peter sat down. “It seems like forever. I’m sorry I let so much time slip by without contacting you.”

“Same here.” Keith reached up and brushed the long hair back from Peter’s eyes. “What’s been going on? You want to start with what’s going on with Julie?”

“Oh, right.” Peter felt his expression darken.

As if Keith knew this was going to be very personal, Keith urged Peter to lie by his side on the bed, like they had as children. “Talk to me, Peter. I’m listening.”

With great difficulty, Peter tried to gather his thoughts. “I can’t marry Julie anymore. I think I love Rachel.”

Keith nodded. “Okay.”

“I just haven’t found the courage to tell Julie yet. It all happened so suddenly. I mean, Rachel only came back to me last week.”

Keith seemed to lose his focus as he stared into Peter’s eyes.

“I know it’ll hurt Julie, so I’ve gone into the avoidance technique. You know what I mean?”

Snapping back in to focus, Keith said, “Oh, yes. Been avoiding some issues myself, little brother.” Keith flashed his white teeth in a grin. “So, you want my help in figuring out what to tell Julie? Break it to her?”

“No, I think I can muddle through that.”

“What then?” Keith touched Peter’s cheek.

“It’s about Rachel. She’s…she’s…

“Pregnant?”

“No! Not that.” Peter cracked a smile but it faded quickly. “It’s our private time together.”

“No good?” Keith moved closer to Peter, connecting them from the waist down.

“No, it’s too good.” Peter averted his brother’s eyes out of nervousness.

“I don’t get you. Besides, Peter, if you want advice on women in the bedroom, I’m a bit out of practice. I’ve had nothing but Terry for the last ten years.”

“But you understand her kind…of sexual activity.”

“I do?” Keith located Peter’s hand and played with his fingers.

“Yes. She likes kinky things,” Peter whispered.

Keith appeared stunned, then chuckled.

His brother’s reaction did nothing for Peter’s fragile ego. Peter felt obscene from it and was afraid to admit he liked it

Keith said, “Sorry. What sort of ‘kinky things’?”

“She likes to tie me to the bed.”

The smirk dropped from Keith’s face so quickly it startled Peter.

“What am I going to do, Keith?”

Keith dug his fingers into Peter’s long hair. “I still don’t see a problem. Do you not like her tying you up?”

“No. The problem is I do.”

“Huh?” As if trying to decipher the riddle, Keith stared into Peter’s eyes for a long moment. “Peter, you’ve always been too straight. All through school, all through childhood, you tried to please everyone in spite of your own feelings.”

“While you did the opposite,” Peter said.

“Yes,” Keith replied with absolute conviction. “I may be completely narcissistic—”

“Nah.” Peter tried not to choke.

“But!” Keith held up his finger to stop Peter’s rebuttal. “I have never withheld my own pleasure because of other’s disdain.”

“No shit.” Peter rolled to his back with a flop.

“All right, point taken. Bottom line, Peter, do you like being tied up?”

Peter settled down and stared at the ceiling.

Like a cat, Keith crawled over and leaned across Peter’s chest. “You do, don’t you? Straight ass Peter likes to be sexually tormented.” When Peter’s expression didn’t change Keith said, “That’s not that kinky, Peter. I’ve done worse.”

“Please don’t share.” Peter gave him a sly smile.

“I’ll spare you.” Keith drew within a kiss of Peter’s lips and rested his bent knee and over Peter’s crotch. “You know Dad went with a guy? And he has the nerve to condemn me?”

“You’re full of shit.”

“No. As a matter of fact I’m not. I saw photos. One where he was kissing Steve while Steve was naked, and others while Dad was in bed with a man in drag at a party. I’m dead serious.”

Peter closed his eyes wondered why he had to be told things he would sooner have gone without knowing.

“You’re the only Barnes that hasn’t had a man…yet.”

His head was spinning. “Don’t tell me anymore, Keith, please. It’s too much.”

Peter felt pressure on his crotch from Keith’s knee while Keith adjusted himself so he was connected to Peter’s side again. Keith massaged Peter’s chest. “Are you curious?”

The caresses were lulling Peter to slumber. Peter opened his eyes groggily, “About what?”

“What making love to a man would be like?”

“No.”

“Not at all? Never crossed your mind?”

“No.” Peter attempted to sit up. “I should get back to Rachel.”

“I haven’t seen you in years. Don’t rush off yet.”

At the hot friction on Peter’s cock from Keith’s leg, Peter peered downwards. Keith slid his hand under Peter’s shirt.

It was becoming arousing. “Keith, what the fuck—”

Keith put his finger to Peter’s lips to quiet him. “Are we exchanging true confessions tonight, Peter?”

“I’ve heard enough for one night.” Peter’s heart started to beat faster. He felt Keith’s cock throb against his hip.

Keith ran his hand over Peter’s cheek and hair, turning Peter’s face toward him. “One more confession.”

“No.” Peter spoke so softly it was like a breath more than a word.

At that moment the bedroom door swung open.

In complete fear, Keith spun towards it.

Terry shouted, “What are you flamin’ doing?”

Keith sat up and glared at Terry. “I’m talking to my fucking brother.”

With the chance to escape, Peter stood off the bed and tucked in his shirt. Peter walked to the door intent on searching for Rachel. Before Peter left, Terry pointed a warning finger at Keith and said, “Don’t do it, Keith. It is beyond absurd.”

“Can it, Jones!” Keith growled.

“Don’t’ do what?” Peter asked Terry.

Terry didn’t answer, but Peter read the fury on Terry’s face aimed at Keith. Peter didn’t want to be involved in their squabbles.

He left the room and found Rachel giving a very tall woman tips on applying eye shadow. Peter gently touched Rachel’s arm.

“…so, you don’t want to put too much make-up under the eyebrows, just the lids, see?” Rachel closed her eyes for a second.

Peter sighed tiredly at the dull topic, then took a closer look at the woman. Something odd struck him. When he realized what it was, he swallowed down a dry throat. “You’re Laurie Wells.”

“Yes, we’ve met, love. Remember backstage at the Garden? How could you forget you met me, you beautiful demon.” Laurie touched Peter under his chin.

“Why on earth are you dressed like that? I almost didn’t recognize you.”

“Peter, calm down. It’s no big deal.” Rachel squeezed Peter’s arm.

Peter rubbed his rough jaw tiredly. “Oh, Jesus, what next?”

“I’ll get you a drink. You look like you could use one.” Laurie winked at Rachel and left.

Peter grabbed Rachel and said, “I think I’m cracking up.”

“Don’t go getting weird on me. It’s not harming anyone. It isn’t insulting your masculinity, is it?”

“Yes! Shouldn’t it be?” Peter felt dizzy.

“Shh, here he comes.” Rachel elbowed Peter.

Laurie walked comfortably in his heels and handed Peter a drink.

“Can I ask you a question?” Peter couldn’t resist.

Laurie waved his hand. “Fire away.”

“Peter!” Rachel nudged him again.

Peter thought about it, then shot down the drink. “Never mind.”

“Because I enjoy it. That’s why.” Laurie answered his unspoken question. He took a step closer to Peter and Peter tried not to shrink back. “Any other questions, you beautiful doll?” Laurie caressed Peter’s hair lightly.

“Hey, he’s spoken for. Twice!” Rachel poked Laurie in the shoulder playfully.

“Too bad. You’d have been a nice treat. And your brother has been loyal to Terry to a fault. It’s disgusting. I can’t get a shag in anywhere.”

Peter’s discomfort at seeing Laurie in drag grew. Wondering if he should be going, Peter scanned around, but didn’t see his brother or Terry anywhere at the moment.

“They’re all guys,” Rachel whispered to Peter. “Not too bad of a disguise for some of them. I’d say, pretty convincing.”

“None are women?” Peter checked each person in a dress. “No way.”

Laurie plucked Peter’s empty glass from his hand. “I’ll get you another.”

Peter watched Laurie’s pantyhose-covered legs as he walked away. “I think I’m going to be sick.” Peter cringed.

Rachel exhaled loudly. “Get a grip. It’s no big deal, Peter.”

“Yeah, right.” He tried not to catch anyone’s eye.

Only a moment passed before Laurie came back with his new drink. As if Peter needed a stiff one, Peter swigged it down bitterly. “Where’s Keith, we really should get going.”

“Already?” Rachel whined.

Laurie caught Peter’s eye. “He’s here. Peter, Keith really cares a great deal about what you think. Please don’t hurt him.”

“I won’t hurt him. Where is he?”

“Follow me.”

Peter couldn’t get over the way Laurie looked in a dress and pumps. He glanced back at Rachel as she shook her head at Peter in annoyance.

In the midst of a sea of high heels and dresses, Peter stood in the kitchen, staring down at his feet as Laurie poured more Scotch into Peter’s glass.

When a pair of three inch black stilettos appeared before him, Peter blinked. Long lean legs and a red mini skirt came into view, then a set of very large breasts in a V-neck sweater followed. Peter held his breath and focused on her face. An extraordinarily beautiful woman was smiling at him seductively. She seemed familiar. He had to know her.

“Hello, Peter.”

Her voice was soft and husky. Where did he know her from?

The beautiful woman went for Peter’s slack mouth and kissed him.

Disorientation engulfed Peter. He didn’t want to kiss another woman, especially in front of Rachel.

The booze beginning to penetrate Peter’s empty stomach, he closed his eyes and tasted the moist desire of this siren’s lips.

She lingered, her tongue exploring boldly into his mouth, then she stepped back, her shadowed eyes twinkling mischievously.

Trying to recover from the swoon, Peter asked, “Who are you?”

“Your worst nightmare.” She went in for the kill, leaning on Peter’s entire length and kissed him, digging her hands through his hair.

Peter opened his eyes to see the reaction of the others in the room. Terry came through the kitchen door and stopped short. Terry appeared about to explode in anger. Everyone in the room seemed to be watching, waiting for something to happen.

The kissing was like nothing Peter had ever felt before. A wonderful lightheaded giddiness was growing in his midsection from it. It was like a bad LSD trip. Her tongue was so aggressive as it explored his mouth it sent a rush of pleasure over the length of Peter’s dick.

Peter caught his breath. “I’m sorry, I can’t.” He turned away from more hungry kisses. “I’m with—” About to mention he already had a girlfriend with him, Peter stared into the woman’s painted eyes again. Black water rose in his throat. Suddenly Peter knew why she was so familiar.

“Oh no. Oh, my fucking God! Help me!” The glass dropped from Peter’s hand and smashed on the floor.

Terry roared in fury, “Fuck you, Keith! This is bullshit!! Fuck you!”

Restraining the urge to vomit, Peter wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. “Oh God, Keith, no.”

Keith grabbed Peter’s shoulders. “Isn’t it unreal, Peter? Like I should have been a woman or something? You believe this?”

Laurie started to clean up the glass as Terry grabbed Keith by the hair and tried to drag Keith out of the kitchen kicking and screaming.

Nearing tears, Peter cried, “Keith! Why? How could you do that to me?”

Digging in his heels to stop, Keith replied, “It’s not that big a deal, Peter.”

“Enough! Let’s go.” Terry jerked Keith’s arm as Terry continued to wrestle Keith out as Keith stumbled to prevent it, spying back at Peter.

Numb and betrayed at the highest level, Peter searched for Rachel.

She hurried over to Peter. “Sit down. You okay?”

Thinking madness had gripped him, Peter covered his face and tried to think of sanity.

A moment later, Keith came out of the bedroom wearing his worn blue jeans, his face rosy from scrubbing off the make-up.

Keith sat with his guitar as everything grew silent around him. He strummed the strings a few times, then raised his eyes to Peter.

Peter stared at Keith, his head in his hands, trying not to cry as Keith sang to him.

Keith’s clear tenor was strong and unwavering. As if they were filled with magic, Keith’s eyes glistened as he sang about the eternal yearning for fulfillment and forbidden desire.

At his brother’s seraphic voice, Peter softened considerably, the spell was cast.

Rachel sat on Peter’s lap, cuddling against Peter’s chest at this private concert.

When Keith was through, applause rang out.

Peter touched a tear before it fell from his eye. Seeing the longing on Keith’s face, Peter knew what he thought of Keith had always made a difference to Keith.

Peter nudged Rachel to be allowed up, then Peter crossed the room towards Keith. They stood like mirror images.

“I don’t know where you got that talent from, Keith, but it’s one of the purest voices I have ever heard.”

“Thank you, Peter. You have no idea what you mean to me.” Keith embraced him, rocking Peter in his arms. “I love you, Peter. I will always love you the most.”

“I love you too, Keith. Even though you’re very fucking weird.”

When Keith leaned back to stare into Peter’s eyes, Peter couldn’t be angry at his impish grin. Keith began laughing.

Finally finding some sanity, Peter sat Keith down and they chatted about the family. Peter updated Keith on Jacqueline’s baby and their mother’s latest boyfriends since Keith was out of the loop. As they reminisced, Peter asked, “Would you be up for a family reunion at Christmas?”

“It’s not up to me, Pete. Dad disowned me.” Keith leaned against Terry’s chest as Terry joined them on the couch.

Terry appeared calm now, as if the earlier event seemed to become insignificant. He ran his hands through Keith’s hair lovingly.

Rachel sat next to Peter, holding his hand.

“Do you want me to speak to him?” Peter tried to imagine a pleasant Christmas dinner was possible.

“You think it’s worth it? I mean, you know Dad.”

“I don’t know. I’ve never discussed it with him.” Peter wondered how to go about bringing the subject up to that stubborn man. “If he doesn’t like it, then he doesn’t have to come. It can be just me, you, Mom, and Jackie.”

Appearing drowsy, Keith leaned back on Terry. “Will we be on tour, my love?”

“No, we need a breather. We can make it, baby, if you’d like.” Terry hugged Keith.

Showing his gratitude, Keith nuzzled Terry affectionately.

Peter asked Terry, “You miss your mom and dad?”

“They’re gone. I’m an orphan. All I have is Keith.” Terry kissed his lover’s hair.

“That’s so sad.” Rachel pouted.

“He’s used to it. Besides, he has no family conflicts. And several million adoring fans.” Keith winked at her.

Wondering if he could pull off a family reunion, Peter became unaware of the present. The whole family in one place again. Could that actually happen?

When Peter came around he found the other three staring at him. “What?”

Keith smiled at Terry. “You have to admit, he’s bloody adorable.”

Terry kissed Keith’s nose. “Bloody.”

Rachel brought Peter’s hand to her lips. “Fandabbydozie!”

When the time came to end the evening, Peter and Rachel waved goodbye to the crowd and stood at the door with Keith and Terry.

“It shouldn’t be this long in between next time, Keith.”

“No, I won’t let that happen again. Christmas is only a few weeks away. We’ll see you then, and plan for another meeting after that.”

“Yes.” Peter smiled into his brother’s handsome face. “Bye, Terry. Thanks for taking such good care of him. We all know what a handful he is.”

“Oh, you’ve no idea!”

Keith elbowed Terry and shot him a warning glare. Terry gave Keith the same back.

“Come here.” Keith opened his arms to Peter for an embrace.

“I’ll see you soon. Stay out of trouble,” Peter whispered.

“Until I see you again, I’ve no reason to be naughty.”

Never quite believing what he is hearing when it came to his brother, Peter leaned back to see that demonic grin. “And no more kisses. You’re one sicko to do that to me.”

“You mean you didn’t like it?”

“Keith!” Terry scolded.

“Yeah, yeah.” Keith grinned impishly at Peter. “See ya soon, little brother.”

“Why do I have the feeling you’re going to kiss me again?” Peter cocked an eyebrow at him.

Before Peter could prevent it, Keith went for a peck and then roared with laughter. “You are so right!”

Wiping his mouth in disgust, Peter propelled Keith back. “Sick! Sick!”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Terry mumbled and received another jab from Keith.

“Bye all. It was wonderful!” Rachel waved.

Peter and Rachel walked to the elevators, turning back to wave again at Keith and Terry as they stood at the door.

On their way to the parking lot Peter was lost in thought. After strolling through the light snow to their car, they were once again headed back across the George Washington Bridge to Bergen County.

Peter parked at the hotel, shutting the car to say good-bye.

“Come in with me.”

“It’s late.” Peter checked his watch.

“Please.”

Needing no more persuading, Peter nodded, following her like a puppy dog to her room. After he closed and locked the door behind them, Peter gestured, “Let me hit the bathroom first.”

Rachel acknowledged him, heading to the bedroom, removing her coat.

Peter turned on the light, taking a pee. He washed his face and hands and gazed at his reflection in the mirror trying to absorb the many things he was bombarded with. It was an overload he just assumed put aside somewhere.

When he shut the bathroom light, he found Rachel sitting naked on the bed. Four red velvet cords in her hands. Peter shivered at the sight as he started to undress. “Again?”

“You are my most exquisite fantasy.”

“I’ve not been called that before.”

“Shame, isn’t it?”

Once he was naked, Peter crawled over the bed and lay back, extending his hands to the bedposts for her to secure. “Do you love me?” he asked.

“Yes, Peter, with all my heart.”

“Then say it.”

“I love you.” She kissed his hand and tied it to the bed, then went for his second one, and did the same.

Rachel said, “I love you,” again, right before tying his ankles. She then stood off the bed, her hands on her hips, and shook her head. “Look at you, Peter Barnes. You are a dish fit for a queen.”

Peter remembered Wendy saying something similar when she took him for dinner at a fancy New York restaurant and everyone was staring at him.

“Why did the light fade from your eyes?” She climbed over him and lifted his soft cock up to suck. Before she did she kissed the tip of it and smiled at him.

Forget Wendy. Be here now with Rachel. She loves me. He relaxed his tightly wound body and exhaled. “Go for it.”

“Oh, yes.” She started to devour him.

At the strong sucking, Peter hardened quickly and let go his inhibitions, releasing all his worries in complete sexual freedom.

Chapter Four

The ringing of the telephone was like a shrieking wraith. Peter opened one eyelid, groaned and brought it to his ear. “Hmph…hullo?”

“Peter? You’re still in bed? It’s almost nine o’clock. What time did you get in last night?”

“Hm? What time is it?” He shaded his eyes and squinted at his clock.

“I said it’s nine. You should be awake. Oh, never mind. I’ll come over and make you breakfast.”

“Hello? Hello?” Peter heard the phone disconnect. “Whatever.” He fell asleep once more.

Peter jolted as Julie’s angry voice woke him.

“Why are you still in bed? We have to be at my mother’s soon to pick a date.”

“Why the hell did I give you a key?”  Peter covered his face with his pillow.

“Peter!” Julie tugged it off as he groaned in agony. “Are you naked?” Julie confirmed her suspicions and raised the sheet up.

Peter grumbled and snatched it back down.

“Since when do you sleep nude? Where are your pajamas?”

“God, leave me alone.” He buried under the blankets again.

“Peter, I’m growing very concerned about your behavior the last few days.” Julie sat down and touched his back.

Her hand was ice cold and Peter screamed and shrank away. “Christ! Warm that damn meat hook up first!”

“Peter!” She rubbed her hands together. “There’s no need to be rude.”

“I’m fucking tired. Let me sleep. Please.”

She fingered the crucifix around her neck. “You see? You see what hanging around with that degenerate does? You get potty-mouth.”

“Potty-mouth?” Peter suddenly realized Julie was like a little proper ‘church-lady’. What the hell did I see in that? He winced.

“You were out late, weren’t you? What time did you get home?”

“I don’t remember.” He rubbed his eyes tiredly. “You’re not going to let me sleep, are you?”

Julie glared at him. “This whole business with Keith annoys me. Was Keith the one that told you to sleep naked and use profanity?”

The venom with which it was said enraged Peter. It was no pleasant jibe, this was poison. Peter couldn’t deal with Julie’s attitude towards gay men, and Keith in particular. It infuriated him. Peter asked, “Why are you so cold-hearted?”

“Me? You’re the cold one. Not me.”

Sick of the games, Peter tossed off the covers. “Okay, then. If you’re the warm one, suck my dick.”

“What?” Julie cringed in horror. “What has gotten into you?”

“Nothing. I have a hard-on and I want to come. Will you do something about it or not?”

“You must have done some drugs last night. You’re not the same Peter I know.” She covered his mouth.

“Yes, right, LSD and acid, of course.”

“You’re really acting very oddly, Peter.”

Thinking he had found a way out, Peter stretched his arms and legs to the four corners of the bed. “Tie me up, Julie. Tie me up and molest me.”

Julie leapt to her feet and gasped. “Who are you? What happened to my sweet saint who never said or did a naughty thing?”

“I think it’s time you raped your Saint Peter.” He elevated his hips provocatively. “Come on, Julie, have your way with me.”

Appearing frightened out of her wits, Julie started working on the ring on her finger. “I’m glad I found out about your deviant behavior before the wedding.”

“You won’t touch me?” Peter asked.

She shook her head.

“Fine. I’ll take care of myself.” Peter grabbed his dick and fisted it.

“Augh!” Julie threw the engagement ring at him. “It’s over, Peter. I have no idea what’s gotten into you, but I know that your brother is responsible!”

“You know what? He is. The man knows how to have a good time.” Peter glared at Julie. “You’re no fun.”

“Fun? You call this smut fun?”

“Yes. Come here and lick me.” He wagged his dick at her.

Julie backed up. “You’re possessed! I knew I never should have let you see that fag brother of yours.”

“Fuck you! Leave him out of it! This is about you and me.”

Julie covered her ears and trembled.

“Fine. Don’t touch me. See if I care. I can take care of myself.”  Peter continued to masturbate.

“Good bye, Peter.” Julie bit her lip and ran out of his room.

When Peter heard the door slam he lifted the covers over himself and went back to sleep.

Monday morning arrived with a vengeance. Peter headed to his office, feeling spent, hardly refreshed after the unusual events of the weekend.

Karen said, “Peter? Mr. Barnes?”

“Hmm?” As if once again just waking from a dream, Peter stopped to listen to her.

“Mr. Singer wants a word with you right away.”

“You mean, Todd?”

Karen nodded, chewing her lip.

Thinking it was a bit odd for Todd to be so formal, Peter continued to his office to hang up his coat. He ran his hand through his hair and headed to VP Singer’s office. Peter knocked on the frame of the partially opened door.

“Come in, Peter, close the door behind you.”

Peter shut it quietly, then sat in the chair across from Todd’s desk. As he waited for Todd to finish whatever he was writing, Peter scanned around the room mechanically. On the wall there was a photo of a homely woman with two small fat children.

Finally Todd rested his pen and handed Peter a piece of paper. Peter recognized it as a diamond certification from the gem lab. He took it and looked up at Todd expectantly.

“That was the three carat sale. You said SI1, G. What does that say?”

“SI2, H.” Peter read it.

“We lost the sale.” Todd glared at him. “Now we own that diamond.”

“And? Todd, those grades are like splitting hairs. You can’t expect—”

“I expect you to be accurate. That’s what you’re paid for.”

With a great effort, Peter contained his rage. “This is the first wrong call in thousands of direct hits. What’s the deal? And it’s only off by a fraction of a grade. For crying out loud, it’s almost exact.”

“This company can’t afford to tie up that kind of capital in one stone.”

“Send it out to our store in Whippany. Helen Myers can sell that stone.”

“Peter, it was too costly a mistake.”

“What does that mean? You want to fire me over it?” Peter was floored.

“I don’t, but—”

As the door swung open Peter looked up at Abe Kirkland, the president of the company, coming in unannounced. Mechanically, Peter stood up and reached to shake Mr. Kirkland’s hand. His greeting wasn’t received. Peter dropped his arm to his side and glanced at Todd in concern. “Mr. Kirkland, about the—” Peter started to explain.

Peter was stopped by Mr. Kirkland’s raised hand. Todd relinquished his desk to Mr. Kirkland and sat on another chair as an observer.

“I remembered when we hired you, Mr. Barnes. Your father highly recommended you.”

That stunned Peter. He thought his father hated the idea Peter worked for a retail chain. It was the first Peter’d heard of his father interfering in his application process and Peter wasn’t pleased.

“So, Todd, what have we come to so far?” Making himself at home behind the large desk, Mr. Kirkland leaned on his elbows.

“I was telling Mr. Barnes about the diamond sale that fell through, Abe.”

“Oh, yes, that was a very costly mistake,” Mr. Kirkland said.

Peter sat down again. “Sir, you realize how difficult—”

“Now, Mr. Barnes, you’ll have your chance to talk. That’s only one of the issues we’re dealing with today.”

With growing agitation, Peter shot Todd another look. Todd wouldn’t meet his eye any longer. Peter thought perhaps the years Todd spent of being jealous and angry at him was finally coming to fruition.

Mr. Kirkland cleared his throat and stared at Peter. “The issue that concerns me is the one regarding my granddaughter.”

“Granddaughter?” Peter was lost. He glanced at Todd again, but Todd refused to make any connection with Peter.

“Yes. You are aware of a girl by the name of Fern Smith who works in the distribution department?”

Peter nodded, feeling sick.

“Well, there has been an accusation of sexual harassment and unwanted touching.”

“You mean her harassment of me?” Peter pressed his hand to his chest, trying to clarify.

The look on the president’s face told him that that was not what he meant in the least. Mr. Kirkland leaned over the desk, his face wrinkled and his wide nostrils flared. “You must think you’re some kind of Don Juan around here, strutting around with that hair and your gaping obscene clothing.”

“Oh my fucking God,” Peter said under his breath as he swallowed in disbelief.

“My granddaughter found your lusting after her most awkward. She’s only eighteen. How dare you pursue a girl that young?”

Peter couldn’t believe one word of what he was hearing, and was about to explode. He kept checking Todd’s face, wondering why Todd didn’t come to his defense.

“There are laws in this state about harassing women in an office. I can press charges if I choose. Your actions were despicable. And Mr. Singer, here, tells me you’re engaged to be married. How can you behave this way in those circumstances? I will never understand people like you, Mr. Barnes.”

“Sir.” Peter couldn’t tolerate it any longer.

“Let me tell you something. If it wasn’t for the high regard I have for your father, I would take you to court over it.”

Somewhere in the muddle of his mind, Peter was thinking, My father? The mother-fucker who beat his wife and two sons is held in high regard, while the son who never committed a vile or unworthy act in his life is persecuted? So, this is the reward for living a life on the wholesome side? “Good. Take me to court. Then you can find out the truth. Todd, tell him. You know how I am around here. I keep to myself.” Peter rose up out of his chair in desperation to defend himself, panting in frustration. “This is an outrageous pack of lies. Fern pursued me. I did nothing to encourage her. It was she who kissed me!” Peter shut his mouth when Mr. Kirkland stood, appearing as if he may get violent.

“Please,” Peter begged him, “Just ask the other women in this office. They’ll tell you the truth.”

“I spoke to Cora Epstein. She was very frank in her answers and confirmed Fern’s story.”

“Cora?” Peter rubbed his forehead. “Sir, Cora is my fiancée’s best friend. I just broke our engagement—”

“You cad!”

“That’s a private matter. I’ve kept my personal life separate from work. I never touched your granddaughter, sir. I hardly speak to her.” Peter was frantic, needing back-up. He looked again at Todd. “You know I never dated any of the women in this office. I never even speak to them. You’re questioning my integrity. My reputation.”

Mr. Kirkland sneered, “You have a reputation, Mr. Barnes.”

Peter had no idea what Julie had told Cora, and in turn what Cora had repeated. He could not win this argument. Sitting back down in defeat, Peter lowered his head.

“I want you to clear out your things and be gone in one hour.” With an air of menace, Mr. Kirkland pointed at Peter. “You’re just lucky I don’t press charges, very lucky. You can thank your father for that.” As if he were sick to death of the topic, Mr. Kirkland left the room with a flourish and a slamming door.

Peter sat still, trying to absorb it.

As if Peter were already invisible, Todd stood and went back to his seat at the desk, picked up his pen, and started writing.

Once again, betrayed and broken-hearted, Peter raised his eyes slowly. Then in a fit of rage he had never before exhibited, Peter bolted to his feet and shoved everything off of Todd’s desk. “You bastard!” Peter hissed. “You know they’re lies yet you sit there and let him accuse me like they were truths! What have I done to you to make you despise me so much? You never even warned me! Your talk of diamond grades? You knew all along. Do you hate me so much that you want to see me ruined?” As if the flood gates had finally opened on this calm sensibility, Peter could not stop screaming.

Peter twisted away to the wall. That revolting photo came into view. He picked it up and shoving it under Todd’s nose. “Do you hate me because you have to go home to this every night?” Peter smashed it on the desk and the wood and glass splintered into a hundred pieces.

Todd rose to his feet in fury. “Gather your shit and get out of here, before I throw you out!”

“Fine! Screw you all! You’re right! I’m perverted. You better hide your daughters because I have a special attraction for those three and under!”

When Peter emerged from the office, silence engulfed him. On the verge of tears, he tore his certificates off the wall and took his handful of books. On his way out Peter passed Cora’s desk. Cora wouldn’t look up and it infuriated him. “It’ll come around, Cora. You can’t ruin other people’s lives without some repercussions,” he snarled.

When Cora didn’t reply, Peter stormed out of the building.

With nowhere else to turn, Peter drove to a bar and got drunk in a rundown, dirty, litter-ridden, rotten area in New York City. The seedy neighborhood seemed essential. He felt rotten and wanted it to surround him. The slime crawled in the front tavern door and went slithering out again after a few. Lavishing in the company, Peter was feeling truly a part of the crowd.

After shooting down several doubles of Scotch Peter removed his tie, stuffing it into his jacket pocket, then opened the top button of his shirt and ordered another round.

A filthy, boil-covered, prostitute sat next to him with a cigarette hanging limply from her mouth. Peter glanced at her, then found a book of matches on the bar. He lit the drooping end of the cigarette for her and she blew out the match with her smoke.

“I wouldn’t sit near me if I were you. I’m a perverted child molester,” Peter warned.

“I’ve been with worse,” she answered, a rough cancerous laugh crackled from her throat. “You look familiar.”

“You don’t know me. You never met me. Go away.”

She left, only to come back quickly with a worn out magazine. She showed Peter the cover. “That you?”

It was Keith’s picture. “No.”

The woman held the issue up next to Peter’s head. “Bull shit. It is you. You’re Keith Barnes!”

With his serenity and anonymity dashed, Peter finished his drink, slapped some money on the counter, staggering away from her as she pointed Peter out to anyone who would listen to her.

The deepening grief was taking a hold of Peter as he walked out of the tavern and onto the crowded streets, bored and restless. Christmas decorations had been up all over the City since Halloween but Peter didn’t even admire their rainbow of colors.

He found himself being drawn to what was familiar. Walking down a side street that he remembered in a dream, Peter paused in one spot, looking around himself. He couldn’t figure out what was so compelling about this two foot space. Facing the high brick wall as it loomed ominously, Peter had instant recall, reacting almost violently to the memory. He clutched his side where the knife had sliced his skin. Nausea rose in him quickly. Peter leaned back against the cold stone and felt the chilly December air moving around him.

The street was just as deserted as the day it happened. Clouds sheeted over the winter sun, dimming the little bit of light that escaped to the ground from between the skyscrapers. Closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, Peter mumbled to himself, “Oh, this is not good. Get the hell away from here, Barnes.”

Peter left the area, not looking back. With no other direction to go in, he found himself in the lobby of a building, trying not to appear intoxicated. Peter showed his driver’s license to the guard and was allowed to pass.

Peter pushed the elevator button, putting his tie back on and finishing knotting it as the doors opened.

Peter made eye contact with the receptionist, smiling shyly at her.

“Peter Barnes! Where have you been hiding yourself?”

“Hi, Penny. Dad in?”

“Yes. Are you free for dinner?”

“Nope, busy, busy.” He avoided her and headed for his father’s office, suddenly feeling as if he was seventeen again.

Peter stood at the doorway and found his father talking to a young man. Through their conversation Peter realized this man was currently going on the buying trips for Richard. Richard no longer traveled. He was just an advisor to the novice buyers.

When Peter cleared his throat, his father noticed him and appeared very surprised to see him. The moment Peter was acknowledged, Peter entered the office. “Hello.”

“What the hell are you doing here in the middle of a Monday? At Christmas? You should be at work,” Richard said.

The young man excused himself quickly. Peter waited for him to leave.

“What’s wrong?” Richard asked, “You look like shit.”

“What makes you think something’s wrong?” Peter faked a smile.

“I know you better than that. Come on, let me take you to lunch.”

Peter walked with his dad to one of Richard’s favorite Chinese restaurants.

Shaking off the cold wind, they ordered quickly and sipped green tea, warming their hands.

“What’s going on? Is everything all right? How’s Julie?”

“We broke up,” Peter said bluntly.

“For Christ’s sake, Peter. She’s one of the few women in your life who are good for you. Julie comes from a loving, stable family and she was in love with you. I could read that at a glance.”

Peter shrugged indifferently. Did it matter what his father thought anymore?

They stared at each other, having had a long struggle to attain peace together. Peter didn’t speak to his father for months after the ordeal in Italy. Only after Peter completed gem school did Richard contact him, always the control freak, wanting to set up all Peter’s job interviews.

According to Richard, Peter had to be in Manhattan’s diamond district, working as a diamond importer.

Peter knew it humiliated his father when Peter had chosen a small New Jersey chain of retail stores. Richard had scoffed, “How beneath your talent.”

Yeah? Fuck you, Dad. Peter was so annoyed his dad turned out to be right he wanted to hit someone.

“You always were a fool, Peter.” Richard sighed, unhappily.

“It’s better this way. I guess I didn’t realize how stifling it all was. It would have ended like you and Mom, I see that now. I didn’t love Julie, Dad.”

“Can’t I have one normal son? One son to get married and have children to carry on the Barnes’ name? Is that too much to ask for?” Richard seemed about to explode in rage at the bad news.

No. Fuck you and your speech about the Barnes’ name. The Barnes’ name means shit! Peter sat back as the waitress brought their appetizers.

Richard ate a piece of eggroll.  “Guess who looked me up the other day?” Richard grinned wickedly.

“Wendy,” Peter replied without emotion.

“How the hell do you know? Oh, no, she didn’t come to see you too, did she? I’ll kill her!”

“No, Rachel did. I’ve been seeing her regularly now.” Peter ate a chunk of the eggroll.

“Rachel? Is that why you gave up Julie?” Richard caught Peter’s eye. “You really are as impulsive as ever.” He took the last piece of eggroll before Peter devoured it.

“Maybe. But if it was right, it would have survived Rachel.”

“If she looks half as good as her mother, nothing could survive it.” Richard sighed loudly. “So, why aren’t you at work?”

Peter avoided the topic. “Oh, I meant to ask you. What are you doing for Christmas? What do you think about getting the whole family together?” Peter licked his fingers.

“What do you mean, ‘whole’ family?” Richard eyed him warily.

“Everyone, including Keith.”

Richard’s face turned red. “No!”

Peter spied around the room first, then leaned over the appetizer plate. “Come on, Dad. After ten years? Let it go.”

“He isn’t my son. Don’t even try that crap with me.”

Before Peter could get out another word, two steaming dishes of food appeared. Peter waited until the waitress left to continue talking.

“Aren’t you being unreasonable? He loves one person loyally and has made a great success of himself. You haven’t done nearly as well as that.” Knowing what this talk did to his father’s ego, Peter withstood Richard’s rising hatred. “Dad, why do you judge Keith so harshly? Remember? If your slate is clean?”

“Don’t you go spouting the holy scriptures to me. It’s just as absurd coming out of your mouth as Keith’s filthy cock-sucking one.”

Peter flinched. “Don’t.” He felt terrible for Keith. “And what’d I do?” Tilting his head innocently, Peter lifted the bowl of white rice.

Richard sat smoldering. “You want a list?”

Resolved to go for broke, Peter set down the bowl and figured it was time for the heavy artillery. “The real question plaguing my mind is…How you can condemn Keith for something you’re guilty of yourself?” Peter studied his father’s expression as it changed to outrage. Peter tried to brace himself.

Before he exploded, Richard glanced around in paranoia. “That’s a lie!”

“Is it? A lie with photos?”

“You saw those pictures?”

“Dad, let it go.”

“I had no idea it was a man!”

At the admission, Peter stopped chewing and stared at him.

“Christ, the way they get themselves all made up. You have a few drinks and you can’t tell the goddamn difference. So, that’s what you’ll hold over me for the rest of my life? I thought it was a fucking woman.”

Peter had an image flash of Keith in a dress and shivered. “Oh, fuck.”

“And Steve? He tricked me into kissing him at Wendy’s door. You know, it gets me frustrated when you use that bullshit to attack me. You only know half truths. I’m not a faggot, never will be.”

With a shudder of disgust, Peter shook the sensation of Keith’s tongue in his mouth out of his head. “Anyway. Whatever the case may have been, you aren’t being reasonable. You’ve always treated us as something less than yourself.”

Richard stopped eating and showed his teeth in anger.

“Fine. Be pissed off with me. But, look at yourself. Okay? Forget the men thing. You’re with a different woman every week. A man your age with twenty year olds? Don’t look so shocked. We all know. At least Keith’s relationship is solid. Ten years with one man? Can you believe that? They’re crazy about each other. I saw it with my own eyes.” Peter leaned closer. “What do you call your infidelity to Mom?”

“You fucking bastard.” Richard snarled. “Who the hell do you think you are to lecture me like this after months of neglect. How dare you talk to me about that disgrace you call my son? Who the hell do you think you are?”

It took a great effort for Peter to remain steady under that venomous glare. Peter needed all of his courage to fight hard against the years of beatings and intimidation. “Dad, he needs you and loves you. Just like I do. We haven’t been together for a proper Christmas in years. Think what it would mean to Mom.”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about your mother.”

Peter reacted to the blow, sitting back and pushing his food away. He suddenly wished he had the strength to have it out once and for all. The payback for the humiliation of his youth and teen years. Payback for this man who changed the course of his life.

Peter’s temper was rising to the limit, then he remembered who he fought for.

Richard glared at him. They had both stopped eating.

“Don’t you dare inflict a guilt trip on me, Peter. Do not force me to face what I find impossible to face.”

“Forgive Keith.”

Richard’s lip curled. “Forgive Keith? Ignore the comments about his grotesque lifestyle from my friends and co-workers? Forgive him when I’m horrified they’ll learn the truth about his sordid lifestyle?” Richard poked at his food. “Forget it. Besides, neither you nor Keith need my love or support. You’re both grown men.”

“You’re so very wrong.” Peter shook his head. “I’m tired of not having a family. It grows worse every year.” He bit his lip. “Even after—” Peter fought to control his emotions, “Even after what you did to me and Keith, we still need you. I’ve even tried to forgive you for taking away the thing I loved most in the world.”

Richard finally appeared pushed to his limit. “Go ahead! Get her! You’re old enough now. I don’t give a damn.” Richard threw his chopsticks onto his plate. “I wondered when this old argument would surface. I knew the minute I saw Wendy’s face again that this whole mess would reappear. You talk like I’ve kept you apart for ten years. Don’t lay that trip on me. Blame yourself, Peter. I’m sick to death of taking responsibility for your actions. Damn you! Go marry her! Go!” Richard waved his hands.

The same exact feeling Peter had as a teenager emerged, making him tremble violently. “Oh, yes. Just that easy. Go get her.” He sighed. “I can’t believe how bitter you’ve become. Are you so unhappy and filled with self-loathing that you deny us of what we need so desperately from you? I’m talking emotions. Care. Kindness. Not a black eye and a bloody nose.”

Richard’s expression grew even harder.

Peter knew he hit deep.

“Care?” Richard appeared to stifle his scream. “I tear myself up inside in anxiety for you. For both of you, to be normal, decent, happy men.” Richard ran his hand back through his thick graying hair. “Believe me, I know I was responsible for some of how you turned out.”

“We didn’t turn out so bad. So, stop beating yourself up about the past and come to us now. Dad, how about starting at Christmas? Think about Jackie and the baby.”

Richard softened slightly with the mention of his little granddaughter. “You don’t care what Keith is doing? It doesn’t bother you in the least?”

“Dad, I don’t care. He’s happy. He sings like an angel and he’s content. I love him. He is the only brother I have. I’m very close with him, I always have been. We’re like twins. You think I care who he loves?”

Richard sat back and stared into his plate of cooling food. “Out of all of us I always thought you would be the most bitter. I know you’ve had two real winners for role models in your life. I’m sorry, Peter.”

At that confession, Peter’s eyes widened in surprise. He never thought his father was capable of an apology. Peter only wished his dad was sorry for the mess in Italy. That apology was long overdue.

As if Richard read Peter’s mind he asked, “Are we settled finally on the old score?”

Having held it in his heart like a poisonous tumor, Peter knew it was time he let that issue go as well. “Yes, I think so. I think Rachel and I may be able to make a go of it. I think I can love her. I never loved Julie, Dad. I just felt comfortable with her. There was no passion. But I’m afraid to love Rachel. I keep thinking it will be taken away from me like—” He met Richard’s eye.

Richard held up his hand to stop Peter. “Don’t go there.” Sighing in a blast of exhaled air, Richard said, “Fine. If your mother won’t mind cooking for a mob.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“All right, Peter, no need to thank me.”

Chapter Five

Peter rang the doorbell holding a bottle of wine and a bouquet of flowers, grinning happily at the prospect of a family reunion.

“Hi David.” Peter greeted his brother-in-law as David opened the door for him. Peter kissed Jackie on the cheek.

“Where’s Julie?” Jackie looked surprised.

Peter peeked behind him at Rachel. She was such a pretty blonde woman she was hard to miss.

“Peter?” Louise rushed to greet him.

Peter kissed his mother affectionately, handing her the flowers and bottle of wine.

Louise too expressed complete shock when she spotted Rachel. “Who’s this, Peter? Where’s Julie?”

“Uh, this is Rachel, Mom. I’ll talk to you about it later.” Peter tried to communicate to his mom silently he didn’t want to discuss it in front of Rachel.

Peter turned to Rachel and brought her front and center. “That’s my mom, Louise, my sister, Jackie, and her husband, David. And that little angel is my niece, Angela.”

Not showing any signs of awkwardness, Rachel smiled and waved hello to everyone.

Peter received his mother’s glare and gestured to Rachel, “I’ll be right back.” Peter led his mother into the kitchen, peering over his shoulder to make sure he wasn’t followed. He removed his jacket and said, “Julie and I broke up.”

“Oh, no. Why Peter? I liked Julie and she was good for you.”

“Mom, it wasn’t meant to be.”

“Where did you meet this woman?” Louise signaled to the other room as she put the flowers in a vase.

Reluctant to tell her, knowing her reaction, Peter cleared his throat. “She’s…she’s Wendy’s daughter.”

Exactly as Peter predicted, Louise turned to face him, on slow boil.

Peter held up his hands to stop her outburst. “Wait. Before you go off on a tangent...”

“Oh, no, Peter. Not that Wendy! What’s the matter with you?”

“Mom, I don’t expect you to understand.”

“You’re damn right I don’t understand!” she snapped.

Before Peter could continue the debate, he heard his father coming in the front door. As a last warning, Peter said to his mother, “Not another word.”

Peter left Louise in the kitchen and found Richard greeting his granddaughter, Angela, as she sat in David’s arms. Richard smiled and picked Angela up, making a loud smooching noise on her cheek.

Peter almost died when Wendy entered the room.

Immediately he and Wendy caught eyes. Just kill me. Peter caught Rachel shooting daggers at him as if Peter were to blame for Wendy’s presence.

Richard bounced little Angela in his arms, and brought her over to meet Wendy. Wendy smiled and baby talked to Angela.

Rachel rolled her eyes tiredly, appearing bored.

There was a loud sound of a car engine coming from outside. Rachel leaned over to the window. “Look! Terry and Keith are getting out of sleek black Jaguar with their arms full of presents.” She narrated, “Hey, the neighborhood kids caught sight of them and swooped in for autographs.” She giggled, “What a spectacle. Anyone have a camera?”

Jackie stood beside Rachel and laughed.

Richard grumbled and turned away in disgust.

“Dad, please, you promised,” Peter said.

“What did I say? Don’t start on me,” Richard replied, handing Angela to David.

The clamor of noise moved inside as the two men came through the door, loaded with gifts. When they had set down their packages, Keith hugged and kissed Jackie excitedly.

Keith made the introductions for Terry and his sister’s family. Terry shook David’s hand and complimented their infant daughter.

Peter held his breath. No one knew Wendy was going to show up, or what his father would do when Keith and Terry acted like a loving couple. Seeing Keith approaching Wendy, Peter flinched. The past was killing him. His brother had sex with Wendy. How many times? Peter didn’t know.

“Hello, Ms. Saunders.” Keith reached out to Wendy.

“Keith. You’re looking well.” Wendy embraced Keith quickly, stepping back and checking Peter’s reaction. Peter thought Wendy looked as apprehensive as he felt.

“Terry, so nice to see you again.” As if Wendy couldn’t get away fast enough, Wendy deserted Keith and gave Terry a quick hug.

Keith approached Peter. “Well, you’re to be congratulated. You got us all together.”

“Not so fast. We haven’t survived it yet.”

“True.”

Peter found his father staring rudely at Terry while Terry was watching the football game on the television.

“Go say hi to Mom.” Peter nudged Keith.

“Right.” Keith disappeared into the kitchen.

After Keith left, Rachel leaned against Peter to whisper, “Your father looks like he’s about to have oral surgery.”

Peter sighed and rubbed his face. “This isn’t going to work, is it?”

“No, it isn’t.”

Peter noticed Rachel aim her glare at her own mother.

Keith returned from the kitchen with a tray of eggnog. He camped it up as he set the tray on the table. “Isn’t this festive?”

Terry laughed under his breath.

Angela started to fuss so Jackie carried her upstairs. “Nap time.”

David never took his eyes off the ball game.

Peter was about to have a nervous breakdown watching his dad fix his murderous glare on Terry. Peter heard Richard say to Wendy, “I don’t know what Keith sees in him.”

Peter looked at Terry’s seductive pose, long lean legs, chiseled face and soft long flowing hair, just as Wendy choked in reply to Richard’s question, “You’re kidding, right?”

“Well, other than the obvious,” Richard growled.

“Richard, you won’t figure it out. Stop trying.” Wendy met Peter’s eyes.

Peter looked away, pretending he wasn’t eavesdropping. Peter suddenly felt like a traffic cop, or a teacher with an unruly class about to erupt with violence. His stomach was in knots as he observed every conversation and obvious body language signal.

There was Keith, admiring his lover from across the room. Keith picked up a glass of eggnog for himself and winked at Terry. And catching Keith’s adoring gaze, Terry made for Keith across the room, wrapping his arm around Keith’s narrow waist as they grinned at each other, rubbing noses lovingly.

Immediately Peter checked his dad’s reaction. He thought his father was going to explode. Peter raced to block Richard’s view and thought of something to say to his brother. “So, uh, Keith, where’s your next show?”

“In London. I open for DL. It’s not ‘til after the first of the year though. We have a break and then we have to get back into the studio to practice.”

“I see your fans found you.” Peter tilted his head to the front door.

“They always recognize us. I’m very surprised.”

To show his disapproval, Richard let out a grunting noise.

Wendy nudged Richard to be good and said to Keith, “I think they know their idols. At least they know the two of you by sight.”

“I meant to ask you,” Terry addressed Wendy, “How is Steve? I haven’t heard from him in months.”

“He’s fine. Still at the house.”

“Still have Lancelot?” Keith grinned.

“No, all my dogs are gone now. He was the last to go. He lived to be twelve.”

For some reason Peter felt upset at the news. He stepped closer to Wendy. “We need to get you a puppy.”

Rachel elbowed Peter in annoyance. “Don’t even think of flirting with her.”

Peter gave Rachel a look of exasperation. “It’s a conversation. Relax.”

Wendy gave Peter an affectionate smile. “No, no more dogs. I haven’t the time anymore.”

Richard’s expression hardened. Peter wondered what he was supposed to do? Ignore everyone?

Jackie hopped down the stairs and headed directly to the kitchen.

When loaded food trays began to appear Terry said, “I don’t remember the last home cooked meal I’ve eaten. This is a real treat. Thank you, Louise.”

Louise replied, “You’re welcome Terry, anytime.”

“Nothing beats Mom’s cooking.” Keith beamed at her.

Louise blushed shyly and hurried to get more food.

Once again Peter felt an elbow in his robs. Rachel pointed at Terry and Keith.

Wondering what Rachel was up to, Peter watched her curiously. “What?”

Rachel said, “Oh look! You’re both under the mistletoe.”

Everyone in the room turned to see.

Terry raised his gaze upwards and spotted the dried wilted branch over his head.

Putting on a shy act, Keith sipped his drink and tried not to explode with laughter.

“So, we are,” Terry whispered. “Well, then.” Terry touched Keith under his jaw with one finger and urged Keith’s mouth towards his, then Terry kissed Keith lightly on the lips.

Obviously holding back a burst of hilarity, Keith blushed and stared into his eggnog.

In horror, Peter spun around to see his father and David’s expressions.

“Oh, Christ,” David mumbled, “I think I’m going to be sick.” David turned back to the ballgame.

Rachel was in tears she was laughing so hard.

Peter figured this was going to turn into a contest to see who could annoy his father the most. Sure enough Richard rose to his feet abruptly and tensed his body for battle.

Terry faced Richard boldly, daring to be challenged.

God no. Peter knew this was seconds away from turning violent.

Wendy reacted and reached for Richard’s hand, tugging on him. “Richard, would you mind getting me another drink?”

Richard tore his eyes away from Terry and took Wendy’s glass, heading into the kitchen.

Peter leaned against Keith’s shoulder. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why not? Wouldn’t you have kissed Rachel in my place?”

“Kissing Rachel wouldn’t have infuriated Dad.”

“That’s his problem, then, isn’t it?” Terry said defensively.

“We’re sorry, Peter.” Keith seemed defeated as he led Terry to sit down on the couch with him.

Peter poked his head into the kitchen to make sure his father wasn’t having a fit. Unfortunately Richard was. Please, Dad!

Richard paced in the kitchen, getting into Louise and Jacqueline’s way.

Louise asked, “What is it? Richard, either help out or get out.”

“What is it, Daddy?” Jackie asked.

Richard poured more eggnog for Wendy and tipped rum in it.

Peter knew Richard didn’t see him at the door.

Richard filled a glass for himself, straight up rum, and took a gulp. “They just kissed!” He sneered. “Of all the filthy—They do it just to aggravate me.” Richard dumped the rest to his drink down his throat and poured more.

Louise turned to Richard. “Who?”

“Who?” Richard scoffed. “Your pretty little girl of a son and his great mentor.”

“You won’t do anything rude, will you, Daddy? Let’s just all be nice for today, okay?” Jackie said and met Peter’s eyes.

Peter could tell his sister’s nerves were shot from worrying as well.

“Forget it, Richard. Come here and take this to the table.” Louise handed Richard a tray. “Tell everyone to sit down.” She shoved Richard towards the door.

Peter started at his father’s glare and backed up, holding the door open for him.

Jackie bit her lip. “This isn’t going to work, is it, Pete?”

“No. It’s not.” Peter helped her with the food.

The table was ready for the meal. Peter was conscious of keeping Terry and his father apart, playing director of this nightmare of a play. He pointed to the two end seats and told Terry and Keith to sit there, then sat himself and Rachel one side of them and Jackie and David on the other. It was no use. Keith obviously resented it.

I never should have even imagined this would be a good idea. Though Peter wanted his family to be a haven of warmth and support, all he had to do was look at his father’s protruding veins in his temples to know it was a joke to even attempt it.

Peter felt guilty for trying to get them together. After all, it was his fault for asking his father to be normal.

“Everything looks marvelous, Louise.” In the midst of all the capped violence, Wendy kept light conversation going.

As the food was passed around, Peter was so tense he felt sick to his stomach.

After everyone filled their plates it was silent except for the noise of the football game on in the background.

Richard handed Wendy the gravy. “How is business going, Peter? Are you making your figures?”

“Uh.” Peter tried to think fast.

“Yeah, that reminds me,” Rachel said to Peter, “The weirdest thing happened when I called your office yesterday. They told me you were no longer with them. I thought I had dialed the wrong number or something. But they knew who you were and it was the right company.”

Everyone was staring at Peter. Richard’s veins once again protruded as he waited for an answer.

“Uh.” Peter had no clue how to deal with it.

“What’s up, Pete? Did you lose your job?” Keith asked sympathetically.

“You poor thing.” Wendy sighed.

“Peter? Did you lose your job?” Richard asked sternly.

Peter pushed the food around his plate, peeking up from under his long hair, trying not to crack from all the pressure. “Sort of.”

“Peter.” Louise shook her head.

“How ‘sort of’?” Richard persisted angrily.

“Why didn’t you tell me what happened? What have you been doing all day then?” Rachel shot a suspicious look at her mother.

Wendy held up her hands. “He wasn’t with me.”

Richard said, “He better not be!”

The abyss was opening under Peter once more. Peter rested his head in his hands. The bickering went on until they started prodding Peter forcefully for an explanation.

Peter wanted to run and hide. He rubbed his face and said, “It’s no big deal. I was thinking of leaving anyway.”

“What happened?” Richard sounded at his wit’s end.

“Nothing. Really. Will you all please start eating again?” Peter was drowning in anguish.

“Okay, leave him alone,” Louise said.

Richard said, “First he dumps Julie, now this.”

“Hey!” Rachel reacted to the slight.

Wendy smiled sadly at Peter. “Nothing comes easily for you, does it?”

Peter nearly told her to shut the fuck up, but tightened his lips instead.

“Uh, Pete,” Keith whispered.

As if Terry knew Keith was about to make an inappropriate suggestion, Terry nudged Keith to stop. “Be quite and eat.” Terry pointed at Keith’s plate.

An awkward silence permeated the room.

Answering a soundless call from the baby, Jackie stood and climbed the stairs as David continued to stuff his face. “She can hear her. I never can.” David shrugged.

The meal dragged on until the plates were cleared and coffee was brewing.

Heavy-hearted and laden with unresolved issues, Peter climbed the stairs tiredly to use the bathroom. When he finished he paused to look around his old room, picking up a football trophy and wiping the dust off with his fingers.  He remembered Fair Lawn’s win over their rival team on Thanksgiving Day, 1978, ten years ago.

“What really happened at work?”

At the sound of Wendy’s voice, Peter spun around. “Nothing, Wendy.” He put the small trophy back on the shelf.

Wendy crossed the room, standing close to him. “You never take anything lightly. I’m sure you were very dedicated to your job and they were fools to let you go.”

With her sympathy brought agonizing pain as Peter turned away from her blue eyes and stared out of the window. “I was wrongly accused of sexual harassment.”

“Was someone harassing you?”

“No. They said I did the harassing.”

“My God. They couldn’t have been more wrong.” Wendy touched his cheek lightly. “They didn’t know you at all, or they were jealous and wanted to see you hurt.”

“Whatever their reasons. They saw me hurt.” Tightness formed in Peter’s chest at the frustration.

“Peter,” Wendy said, “You’re so good and kind, yet only harm comes to you. You need a lawyer. I want you to fight this. I’ll call mine in the morning.”

“No. I don’t care anymore. It would only get worse in a courtroom. I was accused by the president of the company’s granddaughter. It isn’t worth the time or money. I don’t want to work there ever again.” Peter looked out of the window once more. It had started to snow. “What really hurt the most was being let down by the people who knew the truth. The ones you thought were your friends. Whom you trusted.”

Wendy gently turned Peter around, embracing him and rocking Peter in her arms.

It may have been her scent, or her softness, but as Peter held onto Wendy in bittersweet agony, he started to sob.

“Hush, my baby…shh.” She kissed his hair and cheek. “I love you, my baby. I love you so much, I always will.”

Like a dam that was fractured, the torment in Peter came pouring out. This was his Wendy, after all.

Peter calmed down a little at her cooing, stepping back from her. Wendy reached up and wiped the tears from his cheeks. “All right, my lovely, you’re all right.”

“Thank you, Wendy.” Peter always felt secure in her arms.

“See! What did I tell you?” Rachel pointed at them accusingly.

Richard stood at the entrance of the room breathing fire.

In a reflex guilty reaction, Peter shoved Wendy away in panic. “It’s not what it looks like,” Peter said.

Richard came closer, glaring at them.

“He was upset. I was comforting him,” Wendy said. “Richard. Take a deep breath. You look like you’re about to kill someone.” Wendy stood between Richard and Peter.

“Nice going, Peter! You want Mom back again? Fine!” Rachel turned away and headed down the stairs.

“No! Rachel, wait!” On his way to Rachel, Peter ran directly into his father.

Richard pulled back and punched Peter in the jaw almost knocking Peter out cold. Peter fell to the floor and stared at his father in astonishment.

“Get out!” Richard grabbed Wendy and impelled her into the hall. “I’m done playing games with you! Both of you!” Richard roared in fury. He moved on Peter with what looked like intent to kill. “You have no scruples. You’d steal your own father’s woman? Twice? This will never happen again! Do you hear me?”

Peter knew his father was so blind with rage, that no reasoning would stop the coming violence. In his lifetime, Peter had seen Richard in this state several times before, and following each bout, Peter was left bruised, bloody and battered.

Richard grabbed Peter by the shirt collar and dragged Peter to his feet, then Richard threw Peter against the wall.

The impact caused Peter to hit the back of his skull. He banged it hard and slid down to the floor, shaking his head to clear it.

Wendy screamed in terror as Peter took repeated blows to the chest and stomach.

Peter covered his face, trying to ride it out. When there was a pause in the pummeling, Peter peered up through a haze as Terry struggled to contain Richard.

Richard was going wild trying to throw Terry off as Keith rushed to Peter’s side.

When Keith realized how battered his brother was Keith started yelling, “Get that maniac out of my sight!”

Terry had Richard in a headlock from behind as Louise threatened to call the police.

Peter made it to his feet slowly with Keith’s help. Groggy and trying to see and hear normally, Peter’s body was going through periods of hot and cold shaking spasms. Peter could hear the rest of the family shouting at his father from the floor below.

Keith helped Peter to sit on the bed and brought him a washcloth to dab his bloody lip. “Oh, God. Peter, talk to me.” Keith cried, “Please say something. Will you be okay?”

Peter took the cloth and wiped his mouth with it. “I’ll live.”

“You need to call the cops on him this time. This is too much. Look at you.” With both hands Keith cupped Peter’s face. “This is the very limit. Put his ass in jail.”

“No. I don’t care.” Peter lowered his eyes.

Keith cried in deep heaving sobs, urging Peter to his chest and wrapping his arms around Peter to squeeze and rock him lovingly. “You’ll be okay, my baby brother. You’ll be okay.”

About to collapse inside from all the agony and confusion of the last week, Peter closed his eyes and rested his head on his brother’s shoulder. “It was all for nothing, Keith. Wendy and I were just talking. It isn’t like it used to be with her.”

“I know, Petey. I know.” Sniffing and stifling his own sobbing, Keith patted Peter’s back and connected to his eyes again. Moving slowly, Keith touched Peter’s lip and turned it back to see the damage.

Peter knew it had stopped bleeding, but it felt swollen. In pain, Peter flinched away and closed his eyes again.

“Come back to the penthouse with us. I don’t want you alone.”

“No. I need to find Rachel.”

“After what she just did? The fucking bitch! She instigated this whole mess.”

“No, you don’t understand. Rachel’s just really jealous of her mother.” Using the cloth Peter touched his lip again and checked for blood.

“No. I insist you come with us, Peter.”

Peter exhaled a long stressful sigh. “I appreciate it, Keith. But I need to just go home.”

When Peter tried to stand, Keith stopped him. “Peter, please.”

Peter was amazed at his persistence. “Give me some time.”

“When? Will you come tomorrow?”

Never expecting Keith to push him like this at the moment, Peter stared at Keith curiously. “Keith, I’ll definitely come by. I just don’t know when. I have to get my head on straight. Okay?”

Keith blushed and looked away.

Peter made it to his feet as Keith followed him down the stairs.

The house was silent. Jackie and David were seated in the living room with the baby quietly. Terry was standing by the front door, looking anxious to leave. Louise was staring into space over a cup of coffee.

“Where’s Rachel?” Peter asked.

Louise hurried to Peter and inspected his face carefully. “That’s it. I’m calling 911.”

Peter grabbed after her. “Stop! Forget it.”

“Peter, this is the worst your father has done to you in years. I will not let him get away with it.”

“You do whatever you have to do. I’m leaving.” Peter found his jacket.

“You all right?” Terry rubbed Peter’s back lightly.

“Yeah. Wonderful.” Peter slipped by Terry, out the door.

Keith dodged passed Terry to stop Peter. “Peter, where are you going?”

Throwing his hands up in complete frustration, Peter stared at Keith. “I’m going home! Is that all right by you?”

Terry shook his head at Keith.

Keith followed Peter to Peter’s car, holding open his car door. “Talk to you soon. Right?”

Peter climbed into the driver’s seat. “I’ll call you. Don’t call me.” Peter started the ignition. As he drove away Peter could see Terry and Keith arguing from his rear view mirror.

Peter found his apartment blessedly quiet. He poured himself a glass of wine and dropped into a chair to think, or maybe just to stare into space. His tongue kept finding the slice inside his lip. He felt spent and battered. A very familiar feeling.

Peter heard something at his door. His heart leapt at the hope that it was Rachel. Peter lunged for it, opening it anxiously. To his amazement, he found Julie standing there.

“Julie?”

“Can I come in?” she asked shyly.

Peter allowed her to enter the dim room.

“I just got home. Did you try me earlier?” he asked, licking his lip, wondering if Julie could tell it was swollen.

“No. I was waiting in the parking lot for you to come home.”

Totally confused at that information, Peter studied her expression curiously. “But it’s Christmas day. Weren’t you with your folks?”

“I was earlier. I’ve only been out in your parking lot an hour or so.” Julie set her purse down and seemed extremely nervous.

“Do you want a drink or something?” He gestured to his kitchen.

“Okay. Thanks. Do you have more wine?” Julie followed him to the refrigerator. “Peter, I’ve been thinking a lot about you. How much I love you and miss you.”

Peter handed her a glass of wine and instantly Julie consumed a large mouthful. “Julie.” Peter dreaded going through this break up again.

She finished the wine in another gulp, set the glass down, stood tall and announced bravely, “I’ll tie you to the bed now, if you want.” Julie opened her coat and dropped it to the carpet, revealing her bodice, fishnet stockings and spiked heels.

Peter’s mouth hung open. “Oh, Jesus Christ.”

“I decided if this is what you like, I would try to accommodate you. I love you, Peter, I don’t want to lose you.”

“Oh-my-fucking-God.” Peter shook his head. My life cannot get any more bizarre.

Julie started persuading Peter to the bedroom.

“What are you doing?” He backed away from her in fright.

On her way Julie grabbed her purse and herded him in. “I’m doing what you want me to do.”

“Now?”

“Yes. Merry Christmas. Get on the bed.”

For some reason the whole scene had a sense of surrealism to Peter until Julie swatted him with leather cords she had removed from her bag.

“No. Wait, Julie. This is insane.”

With both her hand on his chest, Julie threw Peter back onto the bed with a bounce, then got to work searching for a spot to secure the cords.

“Stop. Julie. Wait a minute. Look, I appreciate—” His bruised lip throbbed and his head ached. Peter wasn’t sure if this was reality or if he was high on some illicit drug Keith slipped him in his eggnog.

“Be quiet.” Julie grabbed Peter’s hand and looped the cord over his wrist, tying it to the bed.

“No, wait. I don’t believe this is happening. Jules, let’s talk about it.”

“Talk is cheap, honey.” She secured his other hand. “And don’t call me that. You only call me ‘Jules’ when you did something bad.”

Spread out like a crucifix on the bed, Peter raised his head to see the leather straps as they dug painfully into his skin. When Julie grabbed hold of his foot and wrapped it up with another leather cord, Peter asked, “Where the hell did you come from? Are you the chick that thinks swearing is a sin and we’ll all rot in hell if we think impure thoughts?”

Julie appeared insulted. She tightened the strap hard n his ankle and he flinched. “Ow!”

“Look, Peter, I had some time to think about it. If this is what it takes to get you off sexually I’m willing to try. At least give me some credit. It beats dealing with a man who can’t get it up at all.”

Peter was secured spread-eagle to the four corners of the bed and couldn’t catch his breath. “You can’t just go from one extreme to the other. No one does that.”

“No? You did.” Julie reached into her purse and took out a knife.

Peter shrunk back as far as the cords allowed. “Oh, fucking hell! You’re here to kill me, aren’t you?”

“No! Will you calm down?”

“Oh God…oh God.” Peter panicked and couldn’t get enough oxygen.

Julie climbed over him. “Be very still.”

Peter thought for certain Julie was about to murder him. He held his breath as she slid the razor sharp, cold knife under his shirt.

Julie cut all the buttons off, then sliced the seams of his sleeves with the skill of a surgeon. Once that feat was accomplished, Julie sat back to stare at Peter’s exposed heaving chest.

She methodically removed his shoes and socks, then lifted the knife again.

“No! Just slide my pants down. You don’t have to cut them off.” Peter raised his hips off the bed, trying to prevent the blade from coming near his skin again.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Julie replied defensively.

“Julie! Don’t! What if you slip and cut me open? Or off!”

“If you shut up and lay still I won’t.” She knelt up on the bed and wedged the knife under the waistband of his slacks.

“Oh, fucking hell, fucking hell.” Peter tried to hold his breath but couldn’t stop from gasping for air as the thoughts of his stabbing rushed over him like a poltergeist.

Tugging the knife up sharply, Julie tore and cut his slacks off his legs.

Peter kept waiting to feel pain and see gushing red blood. “Oh God,” he moaned.

When she had finished exposing him, Julie set the knife down by her purse.

It was too much. The day he had, the fight with his father, seeing Wendy, losing Rachel, losing his job…What more can happen to me? What more?

Peter trembled visibly and could not stop, exposed, helpless, and near tears.

Julie appeared satisfied with the results and admired him. “Oh, my lover, I have always known you were the most beautiful man I have ever met, but seeing you this way, Peter, is like a fantasy. You are so amazing.” She gently cupped his cock in her hands. “You think you can get hard now? Like this?”

The terror in Peter was so great he couldn’t swallow. He felt wired and had an impossible time thinking straight. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You can, and you will,” she assured him and began smoothing her hand up and down his limp cock.

At least she didn’t want to kill him. Peter pushed that horrible thought out of his mind. He closed his eyes and tried to relax his tightly wound body. All he wanted was to be left alone so he could sleep. “Julie, I’m really tired. Please. Can we try this again another time, babe?”

“No,” she said simply, and reached back down to her purse.

Peter panicked thinking she was getting the knife. “Okay! I’ll try for you. I promise I’ll try!”

“I know you will.” Julie sat back up and placed a book next to Peter on the bed, opening it to a marked page. She read silently, then dug into her purse again.

When Julie removed something and hid it, Peter tried to see what it was. “What the fuck is that?” A phallus was set next to his thigh on the mattress. “Oh, fuck no! Game’s over!” Peter started wrenching at the leather frantically. “Enough! Cut me loose! Julie! I said no!”

He could tell it amused her. Maybe this was Julie’s revenge for the tears of her broken heart when he had acted rashly towards her. After what Peter had done to hurt her, Julie now had him cowering fear.

She actually started laughing. “What’s wrong, Peter? Did you think I wouldn’t take you seriously? You laid right there and told me what you wanted. You said, and I quote, ‘Rape your Saint Peter’. But you thought it was just to make me afraid of you, didn’t you? So I’d break up with you because you were too much of a coward to break off with me? Well, it wasn’t. Now are you afraid of me?”

“Yes! Fuck yes! Get that thing away from me!” He tugged at the cords with all his strength. The leather started to bite into his flesh. “You won! The joke’s over!”

“No, it’s far from over, Peter.” Leaning down to the purse again Julie removed another strap.

“What are you doing? Rachel! Uh, I mean Julie! Oh fuck, I’m losing my goddamn mind!”

“Did you call me ‘Rachel’?” Julie growled. “Is that the bitch you dumped me for?”

“No! I don’t know what I’m saying! Please!” His wrists grew red hot from his twisting to get loose.

“Well! Since I don’t want you to call me the wrong name again…” she sneered.

Never had Peter’s anxiety been so severe until Julie reached to tie a gag around his mouth. He went wild and tried to stop her.

Unmoved by his pleas, Julie sat back and smiled. “Now shut up and enjoy yourself. Get a hard-on for once.”

His eyes were wide in fear and pain from a sore mouth as he struggled to breathe.

Julie made a show of putting cream on the phallus, humming and checking the notes on the pages of her little instruction manual.

With the sensation of pressure between his legs, Peter started to fight the cords again.

For the first time since they had begun dating, Julie took Peter’s cock into her mouth.

In complete astonishment, Peter blinked away the tears. He had asked her, begged her to do it several times to try and get him hard and she never would.

Suddenly, as if she was a trained whore, Julie sucked him deep and hard.

Peter started to spin from the sensation. When he closed his eyes and tilted his face away from her and into the pillows, she nudged the phallus in deeper and continued to suck him, moving it in time with her lips. “Yes!’ she cheered as his dick grew stiff.

His body flashed with hot chills and he thought he may pass out from the intensity. Through his battered aching body, his shattered broken heart, and his tortured soul, Peter began to feel release in sexual pleasure. Holy fuck!

He bucked his hips as the pressure up his back passage grew, causing a shocking jolt he had never expected. Peter became a fucking machine, thrusting his cock into Julie’s mouth and jamming his ass against the slick dildo. It blew his mind completely.

Like Peter had never felt the orgasm before, his entire body stiffened and he clenched his teeth down on the leather in his mouth. The climax started at his toes, then raced upwards, engulfing him.

“I got you hard! You see! You’re not impotent!” Julie sat back, catching her breath, watching him.

More! Don’t stop sucking. Peter pushed his tongue against the gag, struggling to keep up the anal penetration, hoping Julie wouldn’t tease him like Rachel had. “Augh!” Peter thrust his dick into the air.

Julie got the hint. “I’m just taking a break. My mouth is tired. Jesus, Peter. I actually think I may be able to make you come. Why did you wait so long to tell me how to do it?” Julie started working him with her hand and the dildo.

Thanking fuck Julie wasn’t holding back and not trying to prevent him from coming like Rachel did, Peter was given free rein to complete this euphoric sensation.

He arched his back and climaxed so hard he thought he would faint. Come shot out of his slit, splashing his torso and under his chin in thick roping streams.

“Holy shit!” Julie gasped, “I did it! You said you were impotent! But I did it!” Julie removed the phallus, placing it aside as Peter moaned through the gag and tossed his head.

“Oh, my God, Peter. I never knew it would take all that to make you come. But you did. Isn’t it a miracle? Maybe we can have sex now.”

Peter was spent and couldn’t move. Through a thick fog he heard Julie say, “Who the heck is that, Peter?”

Peter thought he heard noises from the living room, but lay still trying to recuperate from the intensity. He didn’t-couldn’t answer her even without a gag in his teeth.

Voices were recognizable as they called through the walls. Julie hurried to the bedroom door. “Peter, there’s no lock! What should I do?” She propped her shoulder up against it.

Raising his head, Peter tried to focus on reality. He could hear both Terry and Keith’s voices calling out to him. They were obviously already inside his apartment.

There was a knock on his bedroom door. “Peter? Are you all right?”

Rachel’s voice came through the wall. “I don’t know. It’s stuck. Here, you try. Peter?”

“I can’t hold it!” Julie pressed against the door. “Who the hell is that?” Julie grew enraged when she heard a female’s voice. “Is that her? That whore named Rachel you called me?”

Helpless, bound, Peter went wild, yanking on the cords until his wrists grew raw. He was trying to communicate to Julie to untie him. The door opened and inch and Julie slammed it back.

“Keith! Push on it. Maybe he’s ill!” Rachel’s panic was heard through the closed door. “Peter? Are you in there?”

With two men giving the door a powerful ram, it swung open, hard. Julie was sent flying into a wall. Keith and Terry rushed in, staring in shock at the scene within.

Peter wanted to die of humiliation.

“Holy crap!” Keith looked like he could not believe his eyes.

Julie was in a heap on the floor. Terry picked her up and started to shake Julie to wake her up.

Before Rachel entered the room, Keith backed Rachel up, telling her, “Peter’s gotten sick. Let me and Terry clean him up first.”

Peter could hear Keith’s voice. He imagined Keith was actually forcing Rachel all the way out to the hallway to lock her out.

Peter chewed on the leather strap in frustration. Rachel’s pounding at the apartment door reverberated throughout the three rooms.

A moment later, Keith returned and helped Terry get a dazed Julie up to her feet. She was coming around after having the wind knocked out of her.

Keith kept looking back at Peter on the bed. “Here, get her out of here and give her a glass of water.” Keith practically threw Julie at Terry to get them out of the room.

“Untie him! Now!” Terry ordered Keith.

“Yes. Of course.” Nodding his head like it was the most ridiculous of requests, Keith helped Terry carry Julie out, then came back into Peter’s room quickly, closing his door. Keith moved a chair in front of it to brace it shut. When they were barricaded in, Keith leaned on the wall and caught his breath.

Peter had no idea what was happening. He stared at Keith in confusion. Unable to talk, Peter gestured to his tied up limbs, by tilting his head.

Keith wiped the sweat off his face and approached the bed. “Soon, Pete, soon.”

Terry started banging on the door loudly.

“Can it, Jones! Leave me alone!” Keith yelled at him.

Peter could hear Terry pleading with Keith through the door. Peter watched carefully as his brother surveyed the room.

Keith shook his head in complete awe. He moved to the bed and ran his fingers through Peter’s shredded clothing. “Is this what you meant? What you loved?” Seeing the milky cum on Peter’s stomach, Keith said, “Oh, yes. I see it all now.”

Peter bit down on the leather in his mouth and rested his head on his shoulder, his eyes never leaving Keith’s.

As quickly as he could, Keith started removing his clothing, taking off his boots. “Can I tell you a secret, Peter?”

Through tired, unfocused eyes, Peter stared at Keith as Keith unzipped his jeans. Peter blinked with wet lashes. I’m having some weird nightmare that just won’t end.

Obviously loving the sight of Peter on the bed, Keith leaned his naked thighs on it and smoothed his hands over his own hard cock. “It’s perfect finding you this way. There would be no other way for me to fulfill this demented fantasy. My wonderful taste for forbidden fruit. Oh, my pretty, perfect brother.” Keith kicked something with his foot. He picked up the phallus. “Wouldn’t you rather have the real thing?”

A sudden realization of what was coming next washed over Peter. He started tugging at the cords again and shaking his head in denial.

As if this was acceptable seduction, Keith leaned over and kissed Peter’s chest. Terry’s whimpers were still heard from behind the door. Keith told Terry to shut up once more, bringing his attention back to Peter.

Keith knelt between Peter’s legs and touched Peter’s spilled seed. “Look at you. You’re exquisite.” Keith coated himself with in the cum and leaned over Peter.

Peter writhed and growled to get away. When he felt the pressure up his slick hole, Peter froze and stared at Keith with tears streaming down his face, trying to shake his head and mouth ‘no’ from behind the strap.

Keith moaned in bliss.

Terry started pounding on the door. “No! Keith! God, don’t do it!”

With the noise of everything else blocked out of his stunned ears, Peter could only hear his brother’s mounting groans.

Keith held Peter’s thighs in his strong hands, raising Peter’s hips up and thrusting in with pleasure. Keith stared down at Peter as he took him. “Finally managed to fuck myself. Fucking perfection.”

Spent and feeling deathly ill, Peter closed his eyes, his skin on fire as if he was burning with a fever.

Keith cupped one hand around Peter’s balls and massaged them, then Keith came and threw back his head, shooting out his load and groaning in ecstasy.

Once Keith stilled himself, he caught his breath.

Hatred formed in Peter. He heard Keith gulp from the affect of his glare.

Keith pulled out slowly, then lay over Peter’s chest to feel both their hearts beating in synch. “I had to do it. You’re my obsession, Peter. I’m in love with you. Stop looking at me with those angry eyes.” Keith tried to cover them with his hand and then sighed. “I imagined us living together. I hoped you would want me too. Remember how much we mean to each other?” He kissed Peter’s cheek and Peter twisted away in disgust.

Keith lay down on him heavily and toyed with Peter’s long hair. “I had every girl you screwed.” Keith ran his finger under Peter’s jaw. “I had Rose, did she ever tell you? And Erin. Oh, that one shocked you. And how could we forget Wendy. You stopped fucking after that. For eight years you didn’t fuck anyone. How could you stand it for so long? Then there was Julie and I wasn’t here to do her. No, not Rachel either. Only you had Rachel. Is that why she’s so special to you? Only one Barnes’ penis penetrated her?” Keith smiled and spread his legs wider to push Peter’s limp cock under his. “But you were my prize. I waited my whole life for this moment. Now, I have had you, I’ve tasted nirvana.”

Keith leaned up on his elbows and took one last look at Peter before he climbed off. Keith picked up the knife, slicing through the strap of one of Peter’s wrists.

Immediately Peter yanked the gag out of his mouth and panted to gain air.

Keith waited to see what Peter would say or do. Peter was silent and kept his eyes glued to Keith’s.

As if having given Peter a chance to accuse him or swear at him, Keith shrugged and got dressed, then shoved the chair back from the door.

Terry fell into the room as it opened. Terry took one look at Peter and obviously knew what happened. “Keith! You imbecile!” Terry’s lecture receded as Terry followed Keith out of the apartment.

With his senses slowly returning, Peter heard the two women confronting each other in the hall. Cutting himself free, Peter struggled to stand, feeling shaky and disoriented. He made it to the bathroom and managed to clean himself up, dressed in slow motion, and found his car keys.

Peter stepped into the living room, finding Julie and Rachel battling it out verbally.

“Peter! You said you broke it off with her!”

“Who the hell is she, Peter?” Julie yelled.

He didn’t hear. He didn’t see. Trembling in spasms, Peter made his way outside and sat in his car, then punched the dashboard and skinned his knuckles, growling in rage. He put the car into reverse and tore out of the parking lot on his way to Wendy’s house.

Peter spotted his father’s car parked out front. Not wanting yet another beating, Peter continued on and pulled into a gas station less than a block from her house. Leaving the car running, Peter entered a phone booth, shivering from the icy air as it made its way to chill his bones. His stomach was in knots. Steve answered, but he didn’t recognize it was Peter. Peter waited impatiently after he asked for Wendy.

“Hello?”

Something about her voice made Peter’s heart stop.

“Hello?” Wendy asked again.

“Wendy?” he whispered weakly.

“Who is this? I can’t hear. Can you speak up?”

Instantly, Peter felt like he was seventeen years old and helpless. Choking in a sob, Peter couldn’t answer.

“Is that you, Peter?”

“Yes.” He tried to control himself enough to squeeze out words.

“Where are you?”

Shivering in spasms, Peter turned his back against the wind. “The Texaco, on the corner.”

“Stay there. I’m coming. Don’t move!”

“What about Dad?”

“Don’t worry. Stay put.”

Peter climbed back into his car and blasted the heater, convulsing from the cold and misery. Though he knew he was behaving like an adolescent and it was useless to think Wendy could help him, or fix him, Peter waited. He thought about leaving, driving away, but instead, Peter stayed and watched for her eagerly.

Peter found her walking quickly toward him, her breaths puffing in the chilled air. Peter opened the car door for her and Wendy climbed in and embraced him. The soft fur of her coat warmed him. At the caress of her loving arms, Peter broke down into hysterical sobbing.

Wendy kissed his hair and squeezed him tight. “Oh, my baby. My poor baby.”

“I feel like an idiot,” he moaned. “Christ! I’ll always be lost. I’ve never been able to find myself, Wendy.”

Locating some tissues in her pocket, Wendy wiped at his face. “Sh, no, Peter. It’s okay.” She kissed his cheek lightly.

“Look at me. Twenty-seven and crying like a baby.” He leaned his head back on the headrest and moaned. “I’m an idiot! A stupid idiot!”

“No. You’re not. Stop saying that.” She hugged him closer.

“Oh, God!” Peter sobbed and trembled. “What have I done? I’m so disgusted.” He punched the steering wheel again and his knuckles bled more.

Wendy grabbed his hands and held them close to protect them.

“I should have jumped years ago. I should have jumped,” Peter wailed. “Eddie was wrong!” The tears ran down his face. “She said I would help people. That I would find my happiness one day. She was so mother-fucking wrong. I haven’t.” He couldn’t control the tears. “I’ve messed up people’s lives. I’m no good. I should be locked away.”

“Peter!” Wendy found more tissues. “Why are you being so hard on yourself? You’re not bad. The people around you are causing your misery. Can’t you see that?”

“I’m not bad? You don’t know the half of it! I’m demented!” His choking sob came out like a sick tortured laugh.

Wendy reached around him and rubbed his back, pulling him closer. “Was this all because of your father? Is this all from what he did? Peter, what happened to bring this all out?”

“What happened?” His voice strangled at the irony. “Oh, nothing much, really. I’ve been fired from my job because they think I’m a sex offender. Beat up by my old man because I’m in love with his girlfriend. I’ve been sexually tormented by the two women in my life who I don’t love and who I have succeeded in losing simultaneously even if I did, and raped by my own brother! What could possibly be wrong?” Peter hid his face in his hands and broke down into hysterical crying.

“Did you say ‘raped’ by your brother?”

He nodded and cried.

“Peter, let’s go back to the house and talk this out.”

“And see my father? While I’m with you? He’ll go insane. Look at my face. Look at what he did to me.” He pointed to his cut lip.

“Not if I explain—”

“Explain? What? About Keith? Are you nuts?”

“Then your mother.”

“No! Leave her out of this. I never want her to find out anything. Do you understand me?” Peter pulled back to punch something.

Wendy grabbed his hand before he did. “Peter, how could he have raped you? You’re so much stronger than he is.”

In misery, Peter let out a painful sound and closed his eyes.

Wendy wrapped her arms around him again. “It simply isn’t conceivable.”

Peter sat back and inhaled to calm himself, staring out at the passing cars.

“Peter.” She wiped at his tears. “Come away somewhere with me. I don’t want you to be alone now. If any harm came to you I’d—”

“You’d what?” he snapped at her. “Do you have any idea the pain you’ve caused me?” At the threat of a decade old crime, Wendy turned away from his glare. “I’ve had nothing but specks of happiness in an ocean of depression and confusion. And it never stops. You couldn’t wait for me to grow up. You had to run to him. Do you see what we could have been now?”

Wendy’s expression collapsed to sadness.

“I would have been loyal. I don’t care about anyone else. Even Rachel can’t hold a candle to you. She’s crazy! You know that? It was you. Only you! That’s all I ever wanted. Why was it the one thing I was deprived of? Always back to him. Why? Just because your fucking ages matched?”

“Peter, I am so sorry. Forever sorry. You think you’re the only one to suffer? I can’t change what’s past. I did what I did for you. I was afraid if I stayed with you, you would resent me. That you would hate me for allowing you to be dependent on me, to not let you grow up first. It was agony to let you go.” It was her turn to cry. “I never loved a man the way I loved you, still love you. If I could go back again what choices could I make? How could I not let you become a man and then come to me. But you never did!”

“You were with him!” Peter showed his teeth in rage.

“I wasn’t! I never saw your father after Italy. Peter, you have to believe me. I tried to get in touch with you. The messages were never delivered to you. This week is the first time I have seen Richard in ten years. And we haven’t touched. Peter, he repulses me.”

Peter rubbed his face in confusion. He didn’t know what to believe anymore.

“Baby. Lover. Here I am. I’m yours if you want me. Just take it.” She petted his hair.

The tears rolled down his face once more. “I have to go.”

“Go where?” she asked.

“Just go.” Peter sat facing forward in the seat.

“What will you do about Keith?” She grabbed his arm. “What actually happened? What do you mean, ‘raped’?”

Peter gaped at Wendy in amazement. “What does ‘rape’ mean, Wendy?” he replied. “What should I do? Kill him? Should I? Will that clear us of all our problems? I blame myself. I must have put the idea into his head somehow.”

“Now, wait a minute. Keith needs no encouragement to commit vile sexual acts. Don’t you dare take responsibility for this!” She shook him. “Do you mean he actually—”

“Oh, God!” Peter couldn’t get it through her head. “He stuck his dick up my ass, Wendy! Okay? That give you a clear picture?”

Wendy bit her lip. “Did he drug you?”

Peter screamed in frustration. “Wendy, skip the fucking details! I can’t think about it without being ill. Let me go!” He reached for the gear shift.

“No! Not like this! No way!” She tried to grab the keys.

Peter pushed her back and held the key in the ignition. “Get out.”

“No!”

“Fine.” Peter shut off the car and took the keys with him, walking away.

Wendy scrambled out of the car. “Peter! Stop! Where are you going?”

Peter twisted away from her gripping hands. “I’m sorry I burdened you. Thanks for listening.”

“Forget it, Peter!” She grabbed hold of his arm.

He jerked away from her and kept walking. Wendy caught up and faced him. “How will I trust you alone? Make me a vow you won’t hurt yourself.”

“Leave me alone!”

“Peter!” Wendy smacked his face, as if hoping to calm him down.

When he tasted blood again from his cut lip, it did the opposite. Flinching in pain, Peter stormed back to his car and climbed in, locking the doors.

Wendy began banging on the glass and tugged on the handle frantically.

Ignoring her, Peter started the car and hit the gas, knowing exactly what needed to do.

He drove to his apartment and parked, his mind curiously blank. Finding it blissfully empty, Peter bolted the front door and dropped his coat on the chair in the living room. He headed to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a brandy.

Serene, sure of what he was doing, Peter stepped into the bathroom to fill the bathtub. The glass of brandy perched on the tub edge, Peter returned to his bedroom and ransacked his drawers for the demantoid garnet pin. With it clasped tightly in his hand, he stripped all his clothing off, and sipped his drink as the tub filled, steaming hot.

Not wanting any further interruptions, Peter double-checked his front door to make sure it was bolted from inside, then walked back to his bedroom, avoiding looking at the mess on the bed from his shredded clothing.

He located the glimmer of silver he was searching for and lifted it up in his hands. Staring down at the tub of churning water, Peter stepped into it gingerly, getting used to the heat. His drink he placed side of the tub once he finished it, then he shut the tap water.

With the pin in his hand, Peter thought of Edwina.

“Eddie, you were so wrong.” The pin sparkled dimly as it covered with steam. “It should have been done then but you didn’t let me. You led me to believe there was always hope.” His words echoed on the tiled walls.

Peter went over his life; a series of betrayals and false accusations.

“No, Eddie, I’ve not been a help.” His head hung forward heavily and his damp long hair stuck to his cheeks.

After a moment to think things through, Peter tossed the pin into the toilet. It hit with a ‘plop’ sound.

Picking up the sharp blade, Peter flashed it in the light sending beams of glittering stars all over the room. He wasn’t afraid. For once in his life he was at peace and he knew he would never be in pain again.

Raising his left wrist to eye level, he found the skin there still raw from the leather straps. In his memory he felt the flash of the knife burning his side and had to grind his teeth against the apprehension that pain brought him. Peter dragged the blade over the blue tunnels of veins on the underside of his wrist. It didn’t hurt, which surprised him.

He dropped the knife on the floor and lay back comfortably in the hot water as he started to feel light-headed and a sense of peaceful euphoria.

He wouldn’t open his eyes again. He didn’t want to see the blood. Floating above the water calmly, a buzzing in his ears, he envisioned the face of Erin, a young girl he once knew, then all went black.

Richard slammed his shoulder against the door. Wendy screamed for Richard to hurry as Steve and Richard hit it together as it cracked open into splinters and shards. The men burst through the broken door and ran to the bedroom.

Wendy said, “There’s a light on in the bathroom!”

Richard raced passed her and when he found Peter in the tub, he cried, “Wendy, call an ambulance!” pulling Peter’s wrists out of the water quickly.  Richard closed the gash with his hands and held it upright. Peter was barely breathing and the water was bright red.

“Holy fuck!” Steve stood in the doorway, then dropped to his knees.

Hearing Wendy’s frantic phone call, Richard started swearing at himself angrily. He never imagined Peter would come to this again and blamed himself completely. Losing control, Richard broke down and fought to contain his emotions.

Wendy screamed in horror when she entered the bathroom.

“Get her out of here!” Richard ordered Steve.

Steve leapt to his feet, trying to get Wendy rational, dragging her back out.

Richard cringed as Wendy continued to go hysterical.

It seemed no matter what Steve did, he could not console Wendy. Richard held back his own sobs with every ounce of strength he had.

Finally, though it had only taken minutes, yet felt like eternity, Richard heard a siren’s call, followed by the commotion of the men at the door. Standing, holding onto Peter’s cut wrist, Richard noticed a pin in the toilet, lifted it out, shaking the water off it. Thinking it was important somehow, Richard set it in the sink.

Richard released Peter to allow the medics to lift Peter out of the red pool and lay him on the stretcher. Peter was limp and lifeless. Richard was so horrified he didn’t know what he was doing.

Steve seemed to be the only one who had any sanity left. He grabbed both Richard and Wendy, rushing behind the medics. Steve directed Richard into the back of the ambulance. Richard could hardly see through his watery eyes as the EMT’s worked on Peter on the way to the hospital.

Chapter Six

Peter thought he was dead. In pain, he squinted through a haze at a woman’s face. “Rachel?” He tried to focus. “Am I dead?” He couldn’t tell if he was speaking or just thinking thoughts. “Wendy?”

The woman knelt closer to Peter’s mouth and held his hand. “It’s all right. You’re going to be okay. Doctor, I think he’s coming around.”

“Julie?” His head was spinning. Peter watched as the woman checked the intravenous tubes.

“Die. Let me die. Please,” he whimpered. A sick realization was starting to come to him. He wasn’t gone yet. The pain he was feeling was too real.

The doctor leaned over, prying Peter’s eyelids open, pointing a bright light at Peter’s eyes.

“Please,” Peter moaned, tossing his head, starting to cry in misery.

“Peter, can you hear me?” The doctor touched Peter’s forehead and kept sliding back Peter’s eyelids gently.

Peter quieted down.

“You are to rest, Peter, and get well. We want you to live.”

“No, please…” Peter trembled and shook his head.

“Give him a mild sedative and call the psychologist,” the doctor said. “Maybe she can figure out why a man like Peter would want to end it all.”

The nurse prepared a syringe. “A shame, isn’t it?” She rubbed a cotton puff on Peter’s arm.

Peter could see two blurry figures standing over him. “Why? Why did they have to find me? Why?” The tears ran down his face.

“It’s the ones who have everything that are the most puzzling,” the doctor said. “Wait ten years from now, he’ll be glad it didn’t end.”

The light dimmed as they left the room.

Peter felt hot tears run down the sides of his face. Kill me.

“Peter?”

Peter forced his eyes open.

“Baby?”

His hand was clasped.

“Wendy?”

“It’s me, Peter. I’m here. And I’m going to take care of you.”

“No. Wendy. Let me go.”

“Never, Peter. Never again.”

Peter felt her soft lips on his forehead and drifted off into sleep.

The End

About the Author

Award-winning author G. A. Hauser was born in Fair Lawn, New Jersey, USA, and attended university in New York City. She moved to Seattle, Washington where she worked as a patrol officer with the Seattle Polic Department. In early 2000 G.A. moved to Hertfordshire, England, where she began her writing in earnest and published her first book, In the Shadow of Alexander. Now a full-time writer in Ohio, G.A. has written dozens of novels, including several bestsellers of gay fiction. For more information on other books by G.A., visit the author at her official website at: www.authorgahauser.com.

G.A. has won awards from All Romance eBooks for Best Novel 2007, Secrets and Misdemeanors, Best Author 2007. Best Novel 2008, Mile High, and Best Author 2008.

The G.A. Hauser Collection

Available Now

Single Titles

A Question of Sex

For Love and Money

The Kiss

Naked Dragon

Secrets and Misdemeanors

Capital Games

Giving Up the Ghost

To Have and To Hostage

Love you, Loveday

The Boy Next Door

When Adam Met Jack

Exposure

The Vampire and the Man-eater

Murphy's Hero

Mark Antonious deMontford

Calling Dr. Love

The Action Series

Acting Naughty

Playing Dirty

Getting it in the End

Behaving Badly

Dripping Hot

Men in Motion Series

Mile High

Cruising

Driving Hard

Leather Boys

Coming Soon

Single Titles

The Wedding Planner

Double Trouble

Going Deep

In The Dark and What Should Never Be, Erotic Short Stories

Rescue Series

Man to Man

Two In Two Out

Top Men

Other G.A. Hauser Titles

Pirates, Phaze

Miller's Tale, Phaze

Vampire Nights, Phaze

Teacher's Pet, Phaze

In the Shadow of Alexander, Publish America

The Rise and Fall of the Sacred Band of Thebes, Publish America

The Physician and the Actor, Publish America

G.A. Hauser

Writing as Amanda Winters

Sister Moonshine

Nothing Like Romance

Silent Reign