KENNY - 2. Chapter 2

Kenny

‎His earliest memories were of his grandmother and the way she would cuddle him and wrap him in her arms as they snuggled together in her double bed. The warmth and feel of her large silky undies (then called bloomers) made him feel comfortable and secure. She always smelt of some sweet fragrance.

She possessed a large copy of Irish history, heavily bound with embroided Celtic runes which she read to him until they both fell asleep. He became obsessed with the stories of Brian Boru, the hill of Tara and Ulster the royal province. The legendary hero Cú Cuchulain entranced him with his exploits of bravery, fighting evildoers and, eventually, suffering a hero's death.

Being a fierce catholic, she would whisper of the coming of Saint Patrick, how he expelled all the snakes and creepy creatures from Erin as well as installing (or imposing) the Catholic Church in Erin’s Isle.

In later years she would eagerly await the regular production of the Catholic Weekly, following him and reading segments aloud. If he wasn't listening, she would roll up the paper and bash him over the head.

As he got older, he found that going to mass was boring and secretly started to go to the Protestant’s Sunday school. Here he would be told stories and assist in making baskets and other stuff; this was far more interesting than sitting in a cold and drafty church listening to the priest mumble in Latin and then sermonizes against everything that was fun. No, the Sunday school was more fun, but there was a price to be paid. His grandmother found out.

That’s where the shit hit the fan!

With much wailing and shouting he was consigned to his room for several days, and then had to be escorted to mass every Sunday with his grandmother. Strangely enough, his mother (Claire) didn’t go to Mass and he felt shitty that she got off whereas he had to be punished for having fun.

With this early indoctrination, it was with extreme difficulty that in later years he discarded his faith; he saw through all the lies and deceptions that were part of Catholic brain washing.

But he loved the old bird and when she died he felt as is some part of his childhood, died with her.

Looking back over his early years his childhood was very unhappy. His parents were always fighting and as he got older it became worse. There were times when he fervently wished they would separate so that at least he could enjoy some happiness with either parent, without all the pain.

It gradually became so bad that on several occasions his father tried to kill himself. On one of these occasions he locked himself in the laundry, turned on the gas water heater, and tried to gas himself. Kenny, perhaps only nine or ten, had to break the door down to stop his father’s attempted suicide.

At other times his parents would fight and he'd have to physically defend his mother by striking his father. On one of these occasions his uncle was called in to help and when the drama settled down, his uncle told him to 'get out'- to leave home as soon as he was old enough.

What was all the drama about? He never knew. But he did come to realize that his mother was very free with her tongue and if she was crossed, it would lead to brutal emotional outbursts. At times as he grew older, he would come home from school to find her (conveniently) stretched out on the hallway floor pretending to have passed out. Other times, she would simply leave a note saying that she was going away and not to come looking for her - which of course he did. She always managed to be found.

But there was another aspect of his childhood that he had to endure. Next door to where they lived in Frankston, there was the family Cree. The father was a brute named Bert Cree who was a bastard to his wife, Irene. There were two sons, Laurie and Jeff and a younger daughter, Rita.

The eldest, Laurie was a thug like his father but the younger Jeffry was as unlike his elder brother as chalk was to cheese. The little sister never featured in any of the drama.

For some reason there was bad blood between the Jones's and the Cree’s. No one told Kenny what the feud was about. Several times the angst would arise at school and Laurie Cree would challenge Kenny to a fight after school. The whole school (Frankston Primary) would know about the challenge and (usually outside the school grounds) a ring of spectators would form and Laurie and Kenny would go at it.

Cree mostly won, being a lot bigger and Jeffry would go home battered and humiliated. Strangely, his mother, rather than administering to his wounds, would admonish him for not winning the fight. On the rare times he did win (by luck) she wouldn't say a word . . . just act smug.

What was the feud about? He never knew; it was just there, and being a child he had enough to handle with his mother’s verbal viciousness, his father’s suicidal attempts, and the hostility of Laurie Cree, to ever wonder if all of these unhappy travails weren’t related. It would be years before he would be able to relate them.

And he had his own problems to contend with. For some reason he couldn't sit on a toilet seat to defecate; he had to squat on the seat. He tried sitting but it actually prevented him from functioning. One day, an aunt walked in on him whilst in this unusual position and she hit the roof. His secret was out and he was made to sit on the seat. Why he did this neither he nor anyone else knew- it just was. And it was an uncomfortable long time before he could use the toilet seat as it was intended.

But by then, he was starting to feel different- nothing explicit . . . just different. He became something of a loner and wandered around the local bush by himself rather than with the company of others. Perhaps it was that with such an unhappy home life he sought his own company.

But with other boys of similar ages there was the growing problem of sexuality. One day whilst performing his defecation he found his Willy had grown hard. Several times lately he had woken in the morning to find a strange discharge over his bed sheets and wondered what was causing it.

But this day he found himself with a very painfully hard penis and in order to relieve the pain he squeezed it firmly several times. All at once a terribly unfamiliar but pleasant feeling began to take hold of him and a strange fluid erupted from his Willy. He was terrified; he thought he was dying; he felt guilty; he felt extreme pleasure; and he didn't have a clue what had happened.

Who could he talk to? No one; certainly not his parents; certainly not his grandmother; certainly not his aunt; and definitely not the bloody priest; he was alone and the only boy in the whole world who had experienced this traumatic event. It had to be kept a secret. So in his solitary wanderings in the bush he would practice the same procedure, reveling in the pleasure it gave him. And never of course telling the priest who just wouldn't understand anyway!

Tucked away in the bush was an old abandoned water-filled quarry overlooked by a dilapidated tin shed. In summer, several of the boys in his street would gather at the quarry and stripping naked, would use the quarry pool as a swimming pond. In time the tin shed would become a clubhouse and the focal point for games such as cowboys and Indians; King Arthur and his knights of the round table; and hide and go seek.

They also investigated their sexuality by group wanking sessions, comparing their penis sizes and listening to tales of sexual misdeeds. It was naughty, dangerous, and thrilling. Members of the other sex were not invited, but those who had the misfortune to have sisters would describe the female anatomy, particularly how they had to pee. To Kenny, it seemed a silly way to perform a natural function and he was glad he could stand up and empty his bladder without having to squat.

When they talked about naked females he noticed almost all of the boys would become obsessed and flustered. They would suffer painful erections and go off in a corner to relieve themselves. They would start to tell dirty jokes and share observations about certain females they knew in the locality. Gradually, all talk about sex became fixated on females.

But not Kenny; nothing about the female form excited him as much as his interest and fascination in other boy’s cocks. He found, to his terror, that whereas his friends were excited by girls he, the only boy in the world, was excited by the masculinity of his mates. He began to daydream of their erect penises and the need to fondle their members.

Around this time Jeff Cree, being a friend of one of the boys, came on the scene. Kenny was extremely wary of Jeff knowing the angst that existed between their families; he was not about to let anyone of the Cree family know about his secret secrets and thus give ammunition to Laurie the thug.

But gradually, he found Jeff soft-spoken and a little shy. He wasn't a leader as was Kenny, and before Kenny understood, Jeff had attached himself to Kenny. They started to enjoy each others company. With Jeff, he went further with sexual experimentation than he'd done with other boys. Rather than driving them away from each other, the deep personal nature of their sexual experimentation drew them closer.

On one occasion, after a long wanking session, Kenny asked Jeff why Laurie was so hostile to him. All Jeff would say that he didn't have a clue. But being curious and wanting to impress Kenny and find out himself, one day Jeff asked his older brother why he was so belligerent towards Kenny Jones; all Cree would say was he was being egged on by his father, the most feared Bert Cree.

Apart from sex and females, the boys were intensely interested in footy. They would gather down at the local park practicing taking marks and kicking goals. Gradually, Kenny became aware that he had more skill than the other lads and when they formed teams, he became a natural leader. He was picked for the primary school team to play against other schools. The school coach, to Kenny's chagrin, made Kenny play in the midfield where he reckoned his marking and goal kicking skills were wasted. But the coach insisted, seeing in Kenny the ability to direct and steer the play from midfield.

As he got older, his footy skills became recognized and he played in the local peninsular league for Frankston, all the time being picked as a midfielder. But it didn’t take long for him to find the next footy level; he was selected to play for the local VFL team, the Frankston Dolphins. After two seasons at Frankston he was noticed by St. Kilda Saints and became a regular player for the AFL team.

As he grew up he developed an intense interest in Teaching and went to Teachers college after leaving school. His Year twelve marks were excellent so he was accepted at the college because he readily filled all the entrance requirements.

But his home life continued to be a disaster. His mother continued to terrify and manipulate everyone with her emotional broadsides and he gradually became to hate her . . . really hate her. His father . . . well he became a pitiful old man who just endured his wife’s outbursts. Kenny didn’t know him; didn’t like him; didn’t respect him; didn’t talk to him and didn’t even talk about him; he simply ignored him. To Kenny, his father was a ghost.

But by his early teens he knew he couldn’t control his urges. Being in contact with young healthy males in showers and dressing rooms was a challenge. To avoid suspicion, he dated many girls but always shied away from any physical contact; he became known as a ‘gentleman’. His only outlet was grubby toilet blocks where gay men gathered but he hated going there; it was disgusting. Then he became aware of bathhouses that catered for homosexuals and he began to frequent these.

Because he was in good physical shape, with blond hair and good looking, he always connected with a partner, a partner of his choosing. Then one night he met Rickie and, at once, recognized him as a player from another footy team. Both boys were essentially trying to establish a relationship that would satisfy their sexuality without being exposed. It was more a relationship based on a common need rather than a true emotional encounter. Yes, he had other sexual adventures, as did Rickie, but they held together out of a shared necessity.

At times he found Rickie too hard to live with and he longed to come out of this stifling cubbyhole and be open with his sexuality. This resulted in many arguments with Rickie who was terrified about being exposed. It was at one of these increasingly hostile arguments that Rickie declared that if Ken decided to ‘come out’; their relationship was at an end. He (Rickie) didn’t understand that if Kenny declared himself, he wouldn’t have any more need for Rickie.

So he ‘came out’. He was astonished at everyone’s reaction. His coach said,

‘I’ve wanted you to do this for some time. We all knew Ken; we all felt sorry that you had to lie and tell tall tales. But I understand it’s taken some guts to expose yourself. Remember this; your teammates respect you for your footy expertise but not only that, they really like you as a person. If you have any trouble with other players, let me know and we’ll sort them out!’ And an afterthought he added,

‘I don’t care who yer fuck as long as ya give me thirty plus possessions each week!’

Then he received the dreaded phone call from his mother.

‘Son (whining voice), son; what have you done to me? Why are you telling people that your one of those deviates? That your one of those disgusting creatures who have turned their face against god and choose to live a life in mortal sin? Why son? I can’t go out now because people will point at me and say that it’s all my fault.’

‘Mother, Claire . . .’

‘Don’t (angry) you dare interrupt me. I’m trying to help you gain salvation in the eyes of god. I’ve been talking to the priest and he says that if you come to confession and admit your sins and sinful ways, he will intercede with Jesus for you; it’s (whining) not too late, son . . . promise me you’ll come tomorrow and we’ll go see the priest. No (fiercely) . . . don’t interrupt. Why (hysterical) you choose to live this dreadful life style is beyond me. Naturally, your father is distraught and can’t sleep. To have his son admit to the world that . . . that . . . he’s . . . he’s a deviate, well it’ll kill him; and of course me!’

‘Thank (reasonably) you for the call mother. I know the priest you’re talking about; he sucked me off in the toilet block down by the beach last week. He gives great head! Tell him, if he wants me to fuck him, he should be down there around eleven tomorrow night, and I’ll rape him. Now as to you and that man you’re married to . . . go fuck yourselves!’

Then he hung up.

But he needed a break, a change. With the trauma of coming out, dealing with a recalcitrant Rickie, the emotional drain of his parents, and the fact that his best footy years were behind him, he needed a change; a ‘sea change’ as they say. Looking through the Age classifieds he noticed a position at a Marist Brothers college in Waterford in the Gippsland area of Victoria. It sounded perfect.

In the exchange of resumes and other correspondence he decided to be open and honest and told the principal that he was Gay. To his delight and not a little surprise, he was accepted.

So Kenny headed off to Waterford Marist Brothers College to start a new phase of his life.

Jeffry

One day when he was only four years old his grandmother told him very gently that his parents had gone away and wouldn’t be coming back.

‘Why? Why is my mummy and daddy not coming back? Where have they gone?’

‘They have gone to God; God’s taken them away to live with him . . .’

‘Well tell Mr. God that I wants my mummy and daddy back. Tell ‘im that If’n he don’t give them back, I’ll punch him.’

At this his Grandmother burst into tears and gently hugged the little boy who began to sob his heart out. For some reason, for the rest of his life, Jeffry felt anger towards his grandmother.

It was decided for him to go live with his aunt Irene who was his mother’s sister. He didn’t know his aunt very well but her husband Bert made little Jeffry afraid. He was very big and smelt bad. Also, he had an older cousin called Laurie and from the day Jeffry entered the Cree household, Laurie began to bully him. It usually ended up with Jeffry in tears and Laurie and father Bert, laughing at him.

Jeffry soon became aware that his aunt had little to say in family matters; big Bert ran the house like a Mafia boss. Being a sensitive child Jeffry became much attached to his aunt, perhaps because she was the only close family that he had. Of course, this made Laurie a little jealous and he goaded Jeffry at every opportunity. Laurie was also very willful which made him a regular candidate for Bert Cree’s belt. Jeff would derive great pleasure in listening to the beating his cousin received; when Laurie started whimpering, Jeffry couldn’t contain his delight.

One Christmas, Irene gave Jeff a Mechano set and he developed a love of building things, particularly when it involved moving parts. He would spend painstaking hours building and disassembling structures that were set out in the accompanying manual. It was no surprise therefore that, as he got older, he became fiercely interested in mechanical things; especially motor vehicles.

Bert Cree hated dogs, so his aunt brought Jeffry a little pooch on his ninth birthday. Of course the boss was outraged but Irene stood firm and the dog was allowed, but only to be kept outside. As the dog was the only friend he had in the world, he called the pooch ‘Buddy’. Soon Jeff and the dog were inseparable; they played together; had races; ate together; explored the bush together and when the bastard Cree was not home, they slept together. For Jeff, this was the happiest time of his life.

Then someone gave the dog a meal laced with ground glass and little Buddy died a long and very painful death.

Jeffry was distraught; inconsolable; he wanted to die . . . and once again he blamed God. Why would God, who was supposed to be all things good, allow someone to do this evil deed and not be punished? Through all his tears and despair he kept asking ‘Why?’ There was no answer to the ‘Why’ and no answer to the ‘Who?’

But, of course, there were candidates to both questions.

Being close to the Port Philip bay beaches, swimming became his sport of choice and he found that he had a natural talent for swimming - and competitive swimming. The school coach singled him out for special attention and he began to improve both in style and speed. But he didn’t do well over long distances so the coach concentrated on fifty and one hundred-meter dashes. He swam in the team relay and was selected to swim the final leg which usually resulted in the team’s success. He loved swimming; he loved the freedom of the water and as his body developed to a swimmers physique, he began to swim faster until his times made him a candidate for interstate swimming competitions.

But his personal life was going downhill. After Buddy was murdered he started to shun company. And then when in company, he was extremely shy; it was as if he didn’t want to expose his real self to other people and this became more imperative as he got older. Like all young boys transiting puberty, he was alarmed by the changes in his body. His voice became deeper; he grew body hair around his Willy; he grew taller and then, worst of all, he began to be sexually aroused.

And there was no one he could turn to. Not Bert Cree; not his cousin Laurie; not his aunt; but maybe, just maybe, his coach. When he approached his trainer and asked the dreaded questions he was agreeably surprised. His questions were answered kindly, but he had to admit, he didn’t understand anything the coach said; but he appreciated the effort.

Next door lived a family called Jones. It seemed the Jones’ and Crees’ were mortal enemies; there was definitely bad blood which often resulted in the Jones boy fighting his cousin Laurie. He felt sorry for Kenny Jones ‘cause he was no match for Laurie the bully. Time after time, Jeffry watched as Kenny Jones limped away from a fight very much the worst for wear. But he never backed down, even when some of the kids told him to just cop the verbal abuse and not mix it physically with the thug.

He also felt sorry for Kenny because of his parents. The mother was a vicious harpy, and the father? Well he let his son do the fighting and never once backed him up. A real shit- head.

With all the bad atmospherics, he naturally stayed away from any contact with the Jones boy; he didn’t want to get caught up in a feud that had nothing to do with him. Although he’d never talked to the boy next door he somehow recognized a kindred spirit. On the rare occasions he talked with Kenny Jones he found him quiet, sensitive and above all, interested in what people were saying; he was that rarest of individuals - a good listener.

But he had no time to dwell on anyone else’s problems when he was battling his own demons. He recognized most of the physical changes the coach had told him about and dealt with then easily. But there was another change that he didn’t understand. It had to do with his emotional attraction to others.

One of the lads in the swim team was a boy called Warren who also lived in the same street. They became friendly rivals and used their competitive nature to improve each other’s performance. Warren was a good looking boy with a shock of blond hair and the physique of a swimmer; he was admired by both boys and girls, but he never seemed to play on his popularity to make friends.

At first Jeffry enjoyed the friendly rivalry but soon found that he was developing a deep emotional attraction to his friend. To his horror he became jealous of any girl who attached herself to Warren. Then he found that he resented other boys monopolizing Warren’s time. And all the time he had to suppress his feelings in case they were misconstrued. But there was no misunderstanding his private dreams at night or when he was by himself. Consciously he knew he was falling in love with Warren and that realization caused him to panic.

What was going on? Instinctively he knew that boys shouldn’t love nor have carnal thoughts about other boys, but he couldn’t help himself. Every time they sat close together at training or in a social environment it was agony for Jeffry not to touch his friend.

So he suppressed all emotional feelings lest they betray him. He also decided never get close to any other male in case he exposed his predicament . . . his perversion.

It was Warren who introduced him to the gang at the quarry. Of course he knew the quarry pond existed but he was never asked to join in the frivolities with the other boys. Now, Warren’s popularity was such that when he proposed Jeffry the other boys they accepted him readily.

It was fun! It was fun to get completely naked and swim without any cloths on. But it was more than just fun; it was freedom. Freedom to escape the heavy atmosphere at home; to get away from Laurie and to spend quality time with Warren and even share him with the other boys.

Then one day, into all this camaraderie came Kenny Jones, the boy next door.

Kenny had the same shock of blond hair as did Warren but there the similarities ended. Whereas Jeffry and Warren had sleek swimmers bodies, Kenny had a physique very much like the marble statues seen in museums. In a word, Kenny was beautifully built with a well-defined muscular physique. And, of course, his footy fame was recognized throughout the district. But their first meeting was very tentative.

Both boys offered polite hellos backed up by a hand-shake. Suddenly, Jeff Cree felt a surge of pleasure; a surge of pleasure that he hadn’t experienced for some time. And it became clear over the ensuing weeks and months that Kenny Jones wasn’t interested in rollicking with the other lads, instead he liked to sit and talk with Jeffry for hours. Of course, our Jeffry vowed not to show any outward sign of physicality; no, that would be disastrous.

But he longed to have physical contact with Kenny Jones. His dreams at night were full of fantasy scenarios where he would lie side by side with Kenny with their bodies touching. This then escalated to having a sex encounter with Kenny, usually resulting in a ‘wet dream’ as it was called. Each time he met with Kenny the sexual fantasies escalated.

Suddenly, he realized he hadn’t thought about Warren for some months. It was Kenny, Kenny, and Kenny.

Then it happened. One morning after a nude swim they adjourned to the shed to dry themselves. When Kenny turned around, Jeff saw that he had an erection; an erection so stiff that it seemed like it would burst. As Jeffry ogled this masterpiece, Kenny asked,

‘Can you help me, please? I’m sick of wanking myself off. Can you do it for me? . . . You know, to help another mate out! I’m (softly) in pain buddy.’

Jeff’s heartbeat soared and his mouth went dry; his eyes locked on Kenny’s cock which was leaking. He reached over and encircled Kenny’s erection with his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. At once Kenny groaned and dropped to the ground, leaning his head against the wall; his breath came in short gasps; his eyes became unfocussed and his mouth went slack. Mimicking his own masturbation style he kneaded Kenny’s penis, and gradually increased the tempo, all the while being careful not to squeeze too hard.

Kenny’s pleasure was writ all over his face; he was emitting soft groans; he stared at Jeff without seeing him; and to Jeff’s delight Kenny grabbed hold of him around the waist so that their bodies touched. But it was the absolute control and power that Jeff had over Kenny that excited him. Kenny was entirely in his hands; he was a captive to the pleasure that Jeff was delivering to him. This beautiful boy was his sex slave.

It didn’t take too long before a sense of urgency arose in Kenny’s groaning; he pleaded for Jeff to stroke him harder; his body started to thrash around; his groaning became louder and faster; he begged with Jeff not to stop and then , with a final loud yell of relief, he erupted all over Jeff’s hand.

Jeff was mesmerized at the sight of so much goo; it was splattered over his hand and on Kenny’s belly. This was an entirely new experience and he loved it. Memories of Kenny begging for release would stay with him for a long time. Oh Wow!

Within a minute, Kenny’s shuddering had subsided and he mumbled a soft ‘thank you’. Jeff was all too aware that his own penis was hard and wet. When Kenny gently took hold of his erection a wave of ecstasy engulfed him. Never before had anyone fondled his penis and it felt unbelievably good. Every time Kenny squeezed his cock he gasped; then his nipples became hard; his breathing became shallow and he could feel more juice dribbling from his shaft. With Kenny’s arms around him he groaned when Kenny touched his nipples and gently squeezed them.

He couldn’t last. He felt his orgasm approaching and warned Kenny that ‘I’m coming’. He started to shudder and then climaxed by releasing his semen in spurts until he was well and truly empty.

It felt so good, and it was made all the better because it was their secret; a secret only they shared; a secret known only to them and no one else.

But nothing lasts forever. All the boys moved into their teen years and became girl-crazy. Kenny became more involved with playing footy and pursuing his teaching career whilst the Cree’s moved from Frankston to Waterford, a country town in Victoria’s Gippsland region.

Jeffry was never given a good reason for the move; that is, one that he could accept. Apparently, Il Capo Cree decided he wanted to branch out on his own and start an electrical business. He selected Waterford, because the town offered good prospects for a man starting out by himself. Well, that was the official line. Later on Jeffry found out that Papa Cree had been fired for bludgeoning a fellow worker over some trite incident. When you don’t have good references you have no choice but to go it alone.

Not being a good student he decided not to enroll in the local Secondary College. His love of things mechanical impelled Jeffry to take up an apprentiship with a local car service provider. He was good; he was well liked; he was always ready to work overtime and was rewarded with a respectable wage.

But to Jeffry, life began to take a downward spiral. Living in a small town meant that you had to suppress any abnormal traits; he couldn’t express his sexuality; he had no friends he could relax with; he had to live a lonely existence and he had to get married. If you didn’t get married your cover was blown.

Laurie Cree found a nice country girl called Betty and, after a short time, they got married. By some irony of fate, Jeffry developed into a stud both in looks and physique and had no trouble finding partners; he was probably the most eligible bachelor in town. He began squiring a local girl called Cynthia and, to all the gossips, they looked a lovely pair. Being young and with a high sexual drive, Jeff was able to bring himself to have sex with Cindy. The first time he penetrated Cindy he felt euphoric and functioned so successfully that Cynthia had a very loud and prolonged orgasm. He suddenly conceded that having sex with a girl was far better than furtive groping’s in damp and cold toilet blocks. He was cured! They got married!

They honeymooned on Queensland’s Barrier Reef and he delighted in exploring Cindy’s body, building up to urgent penetration, which then led to satisfying orgasms. No doubt, Cindy was good in bed and by the time they returned home they were as close as any couple could be. He was happy; life was good – as long as he didn’t associate with Bert and Laurie Cree. What made matters worse was Laurie becoming a cop and eventually the Senior Sergeant of local police. Always a mongrel Laurie became unbearable and was universally hated by all.

As years passed Bert Cree began to drink himself into brutal aggressiveness; Irene copped most of it and if he didn’t have his son running the cops, Bert would have been jailed. He eventually died and no-one mourned his passing. Irene suffered Dementia and had to be consigned to a nursing home; Jeffry and Cynthia were her only regular visitors. Starting a family was not a pressing imperative, as both he and Cindy wanted to enjoy their early married years free of any encumbrances. Betty, Laurie’s wife had produced two boys and the question was always asked on their infrequent family gatherings as to when they would start a family. The answer was always ‘soon’.

And Jeffry did enjoy the early years of marriage; he really believed that his marriage had cured him of any deviant tendencies. But as the honeymoon period wound down and the gloss faded, he began to experience unwelcome feelings and desires. They returned with a vengeance when a young constable called Jimmy, a superbly fit young blond, joined the Police. He tried to spend as much time as possible in Jimmy’s company; at night he began to indulge in sexual fantasies with the boy. Of course this made him horny but he was able to disguise his passion by servicing Cindy.

Soon he was being pulled apart by conflicting demands; he needed to satiate his homosexual urges; at the same time maintain his heterosexual obligations to his wife; and keep up his heterosexual image socially. He almost went berserk when Jimmy started to go steady with a girl and was spending more time with her than Jeffry.

He was staring down a long dark tunnel without any light at the end. He turned to self-medication and became a maudlin drunk at the local RSL club; his sex life with Cindy slowly ebbed into nothing; his friends started to avoid him; his work began to suffer; and he took terrible risks by visiting toilet blocks at night. His marriage, before seen as a cure for his homosexuality, now held him imprisoned. He was splitting in two; there seemed no solution to his dilemma; he was without hope.

And it all came to a head one sunny afternoon at a BBQ organized by his cousin Laurie for all his staff. Jimmy and his girlfriend came and never left each other’s side; they monopolized each other’s time; they kissed and cuddled; they whispered endearments to each other; they touched and stroked, and they completely ignored Jeffry.

Jeffry endured it all until he couldn’t stand any more. Suddenly, he started crying – inconsolable crying, then sobbing; deep racking sobs and then abruptly he slammed his fist on a table and started shouting (still sobbing), NO! . . . NO! . . . NO! Everyone was aghast; they scattered and watched as Jeffry collapsed. Cindy sensing something serious had happened called an ambulance which rushed him to hospital.

Laurie apologized to his guests and labeled his cousin as a ‘weak little prick’ . . . and ‘good riddance’.

In the hospital Jeff lapsed into a catatonic trance and he was quickly consigned into the care of a psychiatrist. He was transferred to a mental institution and for several weeks underwent evaluation and psychiatric care. No one was allowed to visit him.

In an effort to get to the root of his problems, he was given Sodium Pentothal – the truth serum. So ashamed was he of admitting his homosexuality, it took several sessions with the drug for him to finally say the words ‘I’m a poofter’. But when the effects of the drug wore off he felt ashamed; he imagined all the nursing staff were either laughing at him or expressing their disgust. His doctor seemed abrupt and Jeff took this as the man expressing his disapproval. So when the prospect of ‘Aversion Therapy’ was discussed he readily agreed. He just didn’t know what he was getting into.

The treatment consisted of a mild form of electrocution, with increasing voltages as the therapy progressed. It was only utilized by physiatrists who were homophobic. In time, it would be roundly denounced by the physiatrist profession.

After the electrocution sessions, Jeffry was placed in a dark room where male images were projected on a screen. Beforehand, he was given a medication that made him violently ill; the point being that he would associate masculinity with unpleasantness.

It was barbaric; it was painful; it was inhuman; and it was a total failure. All the treatment did was to leave the patient with an identity crisis. Jeff didn’t know whether he was gay or straight. The whole process should have been labeled as ‘Cruel and Unusual Punishment’.

So Jeffry went back to Cindy and to his old life worse than before. Nothing had changed, except that his homosexuality had been smothered. It was like putting a cork on a volcano.

. . . . and the story continues

Kenny stared morosely at the coffee shop’s menu card, whilst he waited for Constable Meadows to join him. The premises looked very clean and brightened by indigenous paintings and craft. He enjoyed aboriginal art, but found the prices too high; maybe in this part of Victoria he could pick up some paintings at a reasonable price. He responded to the waitress, saying that he was waiting for someone, and then spent the time reflecting on his encounter with Laurie Cree.

Laurie Cree – boy that brought back some unpleasant memories. And now Cree still holds a grudge, even after all this time. It’s about time I found why; enough is enough. I remember the fights he and I had after school; and then he and some of his brain-dead cronies would lay in wait for me if I was just going to the local shop. My family would never socialize or just talk to the Crees, nor would they to us. The only friendship I ever had was with Cree’s young brother, Jeff.

Shit! Shit! Shit! Not knowing what caused the fall out is bloody frustrating. Reminds me of that famous Yankee feud – the Hatfield’s and McCoy’s!

Just then Constable Meadows appeared so he put his musings aside. Looking at her more closely Kenny noticed that there was a firmness about her face; but overall she was quite pretty.

‘Um . . . thanks for meeting with me Constable. I hope you’re not going to be crabby. Since I arrived yesterday, I’ve had to deal with negative outbursts from people I hardly know; and others who want to dredge up the past.’

‘Firstly, please call me Gloria. I reckon you and I should be on friendly terms since we’re both gay. I suppose Cree would’ve taken great delight telling you I was a lesbian.’

‘Yep . . . he did. Not outright but I got the message. Bye the way, I hate the term ‘lesbian’; to me it’s derogatory like ‘poofter’, ‘queer’, or ‘fag’. I’m simply gay . . . and proud of it!’

‘Ok,’ she said. ‘Tell me what it was like coming out after being a footy star. Did you face much unpleasantness?’

‘Yeah, some; but only what you’d expect from certifiable homophobes. Over all it was very positive. Many people knew of course; all the people at St. Kilda were aware and have been very supportive both during my time with the club, and after. Actually, there are many Gay footy players in the AFL, but they choose to not identify themselves as gay. My recent partner is a good example; he just didn’t have the ‘bottle’ to face his family, club mates, and supporters. He doesn’t play for St. Kilda, so I don’t know how his club relates to gay footballers. This rift actually broke us up.’

‘That’s sad, really sad,’ Meadows said tenderly. ‘I don’t know why but gay men face a bigger problem than les . . . gay women.’

They stopped talking while a waitress appeared and took their order. Both opted for long black coffees.

‘Tell me about you,’ Kenny asked. ‘How did you end up in this town? I would’ve thought you’d be more comfortable in the city. Are there many gay girls here?’

‘Some, but they aren’t openly gay. Several live solitary lives on a farm, in town or just on a remote homestead. Yes, I’ve met some of them and we stay connected. They understand my predicament, particularly as regards Sergeant Cree. He’s got a nasty reputation, not only against gay people but also our indigenous brothers and sisters. And I didn’t choose to come here; I was transferred here by the system.’

She paused to collect her thoughts, and then continued,

‘You know Kenny . . . can call you by your first name? . . . (Kenny nodded Ok) being an outsider coming in fresh has had some advantage.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, it took some time, but slowly I sensed an underlying tension amongst the townspeople. Nothing you could identify, but real just the same. At first I thought it was my imagination, but the longer I’m here I know something’s not right. Call it a sixth sense . . .’

‘. . . or woman’s intuition?’ Kenny teased.

‘. . . or woman’s intuition; call it an instinct. Anyway, once you get to know the place and our citizens, I’d be interested in your reaction.’

This last intrigued Kenny; his own image of a country town was a place of boring idleness. It was the image that drove him to consider moving from the big city. He leaned forward to show he was interested, but without invading Gloria’s space. She, on the other hand appeared defensive and even looked around her to ensure that no-one was within hearing.

‘Why do you say that? I mean, there’s always a little mischief everywhere, particularly when there are humans involved. I sense you’re holding something back.’

‘Of course I am. As a copper, I have to be discreet until I have proof of any crime. Surely you understand that?’

‘Ok, Ok. I get the picture, I understand. I’m sorry . . . I didn’t mean to pressure you. Sorry.’

There was silence as the waitress delivered their coffee. The smell was delicious, but taking a sip Kenny found the coffee was too hot. Opposite him, Gloria stirred her coffee with a thoughtful look on her face. Then,

‘Look, maybe you can be some help, particularly ’cause you’re a teacher.’ Looking at Kenny she continued,

‘We have some elegant brothels in town; the most popular is called ‘Francesca’s. But I hear rumors that the indigenous kids – boys and girls – are selling favors for money. Most often the parents are involved, because they need the money to buy booze and drugs. And it may not just be aboriginal kids; there could be white children also. It’s frustrating; all I get is rumors, whispers if you like, but nothing substantial to open an enquiry.’

‘That’s sick; really sick! Parents pimping off their kids. That’s child abuse; plain straight out child abuse. I don’t care if they’re black or white, rich or poor; taking money for sexual favors and then handing it over to adults is wrong! Very wrong!’

Kenny took a sip of his now cooled coffee and expressed his appreciation. After taking a sip of her well-stirred coffee, Gloria continued,

‘As a teacher, you’ll get to be associated with most of the kids in town – particularly the boys – either at school or playing sport. If you could keep a watch out for any unusual behavior; moodiness, hostility and aggression, let me know.’

‘No problem; but shouldn’t that info go first to Cree as he’s in charge? Have you ever talked about your suspicions with him? What about the other coppers; don’t they also share your concerns?’

‘Cree is an arrogant, stupid, dickhead. Because I’m a female and a les . . . sorry, gay cop, he just ignores me; and the others simply follow his lead. Don’t ask me why, but I sense the problem is escalating; soon someone’s gonna get hurt.’

‘Yeah, I think I get the picture . . . particularly if the parents are involved. More booze and drugs means more money is needed to finance the habit; the more the need, the more there’s danger of something bad happening. It’s depressing. If it’s any consolation, I know the signs of drug abuse; I’ve just been exposed to that unpleasantness.’

Gloria decided to not pursue that matter any further because Kenny’s voice carried a lot of pain. Instead she switched direction,

‘Give me a boot up the arse if I’m getting too personal, but I sense that you and Sergeant Cree don’t have a pleasant past. Am I out of line?’

‘No . . . not at all. I don’t mind. Actually, I was muddling over that same problem waiting for you.’ Kenny inclined his head and stared at the far wall whilst he marshaled his thoughts.

It may be good to share the problem with Gloria; sometimes an outsider can be more objective. Maybe it’d help if I talked about the problem. But where do I start? Where did it all start . . . all those years ago?

‘My coffee’s dry. How’s yours? Do you have time for another cup?’

‘Yes to both. I told Cree that I was taking some personal time. He didn’t mind; in fact, I’m sure he’s glad to be rid of me for a while.’

Kenny settled back and played with his now empty cup.

‘Our families were neighbors, and as long as I can remember we were enemies. It was always the Crees against the Joneses. My parents hated the Crees and vice versa. And I just don’t know why. The two fathers didn’t work at the same workplace or even in the same industry. My Dad was a plumber and the elder Cree was an electrician. The only circumstance I know that would cause such deep enmity was sexual betrayal. Someone fucked someone else’s wife or husband.’

Kenny paused while new coffees were placed on the table and the empty cups taken away. He didn’t take a sip straight away as the coffee was steaming. Gloria commenced using a spoon to stir hers, but she was leaning forward obviously intrigued with Kenny’s story. Just then the waitress came back and interrupted the conversation.

‘I’m sorry for butting in, but aren’t you Kenny Jones the footballer?’

When Kenny smiled yes, she continued,

‘Geeze, I thought you were. I mean you just look like in the photos I’ve seen of you. Both my hubby and eldest son are Saints supporters. My hubby reckons you’re the best mid-fielder the Saints have had for a long time. We’re sorry to see you retire. Geeze; Kenny Jones in person. Could I get an autograph? My son would be thrilled.’

‘Not a problem. I’d love to; how about I autograph a footy for your son. What’s his name?’

‘Peter. Peter Ballard. He’ll be over the moon; thank you, really . . . thank you.’

‘Ok, I’ve got some spare footy’s at home. You on tomorrow?’

‘Yep.’

‘Ok; I’ll drop it in after noon tomorrow. My pleasure.’

‘I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you doing this. Really. If there’s anything I can do for you, just ask. My name’s Robyn. Robyn Ballard. Thanks again.’ And departed smiling. Kenny returned his attention back to Gloria and after a pause said,

‘Where was I? I’ve lost my train of thought.’ Before answering, Gloria said,

‘Kenny, you’ve just made a real friend. A person like her will spread the word that you’re a real decent bloke. From here on, anybody will think twice about rubbishing you because you’re gay. You’ve just done yourself a big, big favor.’

‘Well, I didn’t do it to gain ‘brownie’ points. I like doing nice things for people. Now where was I?’

‘You were reflecting on how and where this feud started. You surmised that it may have been marriage infidelity.’

‘Yes, but I don’t know for sure. It was a closed subject. Several times I tried to find out why; when I asked my mother she’d say ‘go ask your father’ and when I asked my father I’d get the same in reverse. It was frustrating; particularly when Cree and I started to fight. Physically I mean . . . usually after school. All the other kids knew about the feud and reveled in the fighting. Being a lot bigger, Cree usually won and if anything this increased the hostility between the two families. A couple of times I beat him, but over-all I came off the looser.’

‘And through all this no-one told you what the feud was about? That would’ve been awful! You were under constant threat all your growing years. That’s awful! Bloody awful. It’s a wonder you didn’t end up a basket case; I know I would.’

‘And add to that my father tried to kill himself – twice. One time I had to bash the laundry door down because he was trying to gas himself. I kept asking myself over and over, what could be so bad that you’d want to top yerself.’

Kenny fell silent; obviously dealing with some painful memories. Gloria let the silence extend, out of respect for Kenny’s feelings. Eventually,

‘Did you and the sergeant talk about this past hostility when you were together in his office? I mean, it’s not rational for two adults to maintain a quarrel for so long; particularly when no one knows what it’s about. I’ve never heard of something so stupid. . .’ Kenny went to interrupt but Gloria silenced him with,

‘. . . and to cap it all, I take it that both sets of parents are either now very old or very dead! Kenny, you’ve got to find out more so you can deal with the problem. It’s been festering on your sub-conscious for a long time now. You need to deal with it and make a new start.’

‘Hey, I wanted to . . . discuss the bad blood that is; but he brought up my being gay and sledged me with that. I became very friendly with his younger brother Jeff, and I sensed that Jeff knew more than he’d tell me. Jeff’s a simple honest person, unlike the whole Cree family, and I suspect he was terrified of his elder brother. I must make an effort to find Jeff and ask for his help.’

‘Why would Jeff know about the rift; I mean more than was told to you?’

‘He was very close to his mother . . . very close. That’s why he was on the outer with Cree and his dad Bert. I suspect there’s another story there. But Jeff will know something more, at least. Shouldn’t be too hard to locate him; if nothing else it’d be a starting point and as you point out this shit’s got to end.’

At that, a big smile spread all over Gloria’s face and she stared at Kenny with an impish look in her eyes.’

‘Jeff’s here . . . lives just out of town.’

This stunned Kenny. He imagined that Jeff wouldn’t want to live anywhere near his big brother; but to learn that he lived close by staggered him.

‘He’s here . . . in town? Right here? Tell me where he lives, or works so I can talk to him. Tell me, what does he look like? He’d be what . . . late twenties or early thirties.’

‘He’s grown very good looking; where Laurie has the face of a thug, Jeff has the face of an angel. He got married to a girl called Cindy who he met after the family . . . the Cree family, moved into town. Apparently his father – you called him Bert – opened up an Electrical business, and did quite well. The father died about five years back and I think the mothers in a retirement home.’

Kenny lapsed into silence as he digested the news.

“Look, I know Jeff’s usually at the RSL club most nights. How about meeting me there around, say, six thirty, and I’ll introduce you both. You’ve got to start somewhere to resolve this stupid vendetta.

♂♂

‘. . . You want a blow job? I can blow you for twenty dollars; if you want a fuck, I’m too small, but you can fuck my elder brother for fifty dollars. You just tell me the time and place and I’ll make sure he’s there.

‘Hey, I’m randy as hell. Here’s twenty; give me a good blowjob and maybe I’ll give you ten more.’

The boy undid the fly and loosened the man’s belt, slipping down his jeans in one smooth motion. The man’s very large cock sprang into view.

‘Geeze, that’s a big fella! You’re all wet and oozy. I’ll do you good mister. I likes the taste of you’se juice.’

With that the boy placed his mouth around the penis and began to gently suckle the head. At the same time he stroked the shaft gently making the man moan with pleasure.

‘Ohhh . . . shit that feels good. Don’t stop . . . keep it up! Ahhh. Man that’s incredible. Yeah . . . keep suckling the head . . . keep doing that . . . Ahhh . . . fuck!’

Ten minutes later, it was all over; the man popped his penis back into his jeans and zipped up his fly. He looked down at the abbo boy who had just serviced him. He was just a kid, a child; and that’s what turned him on. But what a beautiful child he was.

‘Is your brother as beautiful as you? Does he like having a cock up his arse? Will he let me fuck him without a condom?’

‘We'se needs the money; I’ll ask him and let you know. How can I contact you?

Geez, the kid sounded like a professional and he was, what, only ten years old.

‘I’ll meet you here tomorrow at the same time. Here’s another ten to show my appreciation; maybe tomorrow you can do me again.’

♂♂

The local RSL club in every country town becomes the center for social gatherings and a ‘Happy Hour’ is usually in full swing between six and seven o’clock in the evening. After signing in as a visitor, Kenny went looking for Gloria and spotted her in a group with some of the young cops he’d met this morning.

Gloria beckoned him over, only to find out - guess what - it was his turn to buy a round of drinks. The conversation returned to the drawn grand final; the subject of this morning’s interrupted banter.

Kenny was enjoying himself and the company, when Gloria nudged him and said,

‘There’s Jeff Cree just coming in. He’s by himself . . . again.’

Following her signal, Kenny looked to see a very fit youngish man come strolling into the club. When Gloria mentioned he was good-looking, she did him an injustice. The adult Jeffrey Cree was very good looking! He had soft features with a full head of dark brown hair. His eyes were deep brown, almost black and seemed to match the color of his hair which he wore parted forward and across his forehead. His head narrowed down to a narrow chin and whilst all his features were in balance, the over-all effect rendered gentleness to his facial appearance.

And he seemed to be perpetually smiling. Recognizing Jeff, one of the cops called out and invited him to join the group. When he came and stood close, Kenny could see the child that he had known. Kenny was introduced as the retired footballer and for a minute Jeff did not recognize him. But after several moments the light dawned and Jeff smiled,

‘Not the Kenny Jones who used to live next door to us in Frankston, when we were kids?’

‘The same.’

“Wow! I should’ve twigged. I’m sorry for not recognizing you straight away Kenny; you must think I’m a dickhead. We all knew the Kenny Jones from St. Kilda was coming, but I didn’t associate that with the Kenny Jones I knew as a youngster. Wow!’

Jeff stared at Kenny with that fixed smile, and went to say something, but Kenny was drawn back into the conversation about footy. However, Kenny couldn’t contain his curiosity for too long, so he said to Jeff,

‘Can we go somewhere private to catch up?’ When Jeff nodded ok, (a little reluctantly) . . . Kenny said to the group,

‘Guys, Jeff, and I haven’t seen each other for a long time, so we’re gonna move off to catch up?’ Gloria gave him a sly wink.

They drifted away and found an unoccupied table. Jeff assigned himself the task of refreshing their drinks, and as he walked away, Kenny was able to admire the view from the back; from Jeff’s wide shoulders down to his compact little bum.

When he returned there was an awkward silence. Jeff was no longer smiling and seemed uncomfortable. No one knew how to start the conversation. Eventually,

‘Great to see you, Jeff. I must admit I was surprised when Gloria told me you were living here. You’re no longer the geeky kid next door.’

Geez that sounded lame, but he’s obviously letting me open the batting.

‘Yeah . . . it’s good to see you Kenny. I knew a new teacher was coming but you . . . well . . . I’m surprised.’ To Kenny, there was no warmth in Jeff’s voice. This was a different Jeff Cree to the man who had joined the cop group earlier.

‘Ummm . . . to cut a long story short, I wanted to get away from Melbourne for personal reasons, and when this job was advertised I jumped at it.’

Silence. Jeff was staring morosely at his glass. He seemed depressed.

(In exasperation) ‘What do you do Jeff? How do you make a quid? I gather you’re a family man now.’

Taking a deep breath, Jeff hesitated before replying,

‘I’m a lowly mechanic, and yes I have a wife, but no kids as yet. Wife’s name is Cindy. We’ve been married five years.’

Silence. Again, Jeff avoided any eye contact and seemed fixated on his drink coaster.

Exasperated again. ‘Hey, don’t put yourself down like that; being a mechanic, or for that matter working any trade, is an honorable profession. Trade skills come in handy even outside your working surroundings; you never lose those skills and they’re often put to good use.’

‘Ummm . . . I guess. I guess you’re right. Sometimes Cindy puts me down; she wants something better than a mechanic for a husband.’

‘Jeff, it’s not what Cindy wants; it’s what you want. After all it’s your life, isn’t it?’

(Almost a sigh) Yeah . . . I suppose. I wish it was that simple.’

Kenny was getting frustrated by Jeff’s attitude. This wasn’t the way he’d imagined meeting Jeff after all these years.

Something is really bugging him. It’s almost as if he resents talking to me.

And then Jeff crossed his arms and taking another deep breath, looked at Kenny directly; his dark brown eyes seemed to glisten,

‘Kenny, what we did as kids; that was just fooling around. Just experimentation, just growing up. I grew out of that . . . I’m not gay like you. Understand . . . I’m straight and happily married. I’m really happy . . . really happy.’

Kenny was caught off-balance by Jeff’s outburst and looking into Jeff’s eyes detected . . . anguish?

What on earth’s going on? Why does he want to dig up the past? There’s an inner conflict raging within Jeff; it’s almost as if he wants absolution. He’s ashamed of himself. Does he see me a threat to his family?

Kenny let the silence grow whilst he considered how to respond. It was clear that Jeff was in emotional turmoil.

‘Jeff,’ he ventured slowly. ‘After not seeing each other for over twenty years, I would’ve thought we’d be sharing anecdotes; catching up on what’s happened to us over the past. I mean, in that time we’ve both experienced many things; some good, some not so good. Instead, I sense a degree of hostility and a need for forgiveness over something we may have done, when we were very young. Frankly, I don’t understand.’

Taking a moment to digest what Kenny had said, Jeff put down his half drunken beer and almost to himself mumbled,

‘Shit . . . there I go again. I’m a loser. I’ve made you uncomfortable and angry. Sorry Ken . . . I’m just a loser.’

Then he got up from the table and walked out of the club, leaving Kenny bewildered. After a moment, Kenny rejoined the group around the bar. It was obvious that they had witnessed Jeff’s departure because one of the cops said,

‘You’ve just been exposed to gloomy Jeff Cree haven’t you? We’ve all had the same experience . . . several nodded their heads . . . but don’t let it throw you; that’s just Jeffry being Jeffry. Some times he’s great company, other times . . .?’

Someone else ventured, ‘It all depends whether Cindy gives him a hard time or not.’

And another, ‘don’t forget his bastard brother; our own darling Sergeant Cree. He comes down hard on poor Jeff. Between his wife and his brother, he’ll end up a basket case.’

Just then, a blond youngster called Jimmy (Hmmm thought Kenny; definitely eye candy) piped up and said out loud what they all were thinking,

‘Perhaps he knows what that slut of a wife is doing behind his back.’ There was a general murmur of agreement when Gloria spoke up,

‘Hey, that’s not fair; you don’t know. . . .’ but an elder cop interrupted with,

‘For God’s sake Gloria, it’s common knowledge. She’ll sleep with anyone; even a blackfella if she has a mind to it.’

Poor Jeff, thought Kenny, the poor bastard.

♂♂

It took Kenny a few days to really put faces to names with the college faculty. Brother Dominic had introduced him, but his memory for names was not good. Eventually in the common room Kenny came to know people better. Besides a Miss Jenkins who taught French, Kenny was the only other male who was not a Brother. After a time he was able to understand the interplay of personalities and relationships.

Towering above everyone was Brother Michael and he had acolytes in Brother Peter who taught History and Brother Simon who taught English. The latter was a short pudgy man who always seemed to be unkempt. He deferred to Brother Michael in everything; so much so that he was laughed at behind his back. And he was homophobic; Kenny couldn’t discern whether it was his fundamental belief or just following Brother Michael’s lead. On one occasion, when they were alone, Br. Simon confronted Kenny about being Gay.

‘The church has always maintained that we can forgive the sinner, but not the sin. It’s not too late; I know many people who have had their lives changed by fully accepting Jesus. Surely you’d feel much better knowing that you’re within the arms of our Lord. Confess and repent your sins and you’ll find a better and fulfilling life. You have to look after your immortal soul.’

‘I’m truly grateful for the opportunity to teach. Even through my footy years, I loved to go out and teach kids how to take marks, kick and tackle to improve their footy skills. I’m a teacher brother, not a queer!’

‘You haven’t answered my question!’

‘But you didn’t ask a question; just made a statement. What was your question?’

‘Wouldn’t it be better to confess and repent and accept the love of Jesus?’

‘Nah; not really.’

Bro. Simon was shocked. He glared at Kenny and leaned close; so close that Kenny could smell his bad breath. His piggy eyes narrowed . . . then,

‘You choose not only to live in sin but to die in sin. And you’re teaching children; that makes me very, very angry!’ Kenny sighed,

‘For fuck’s sake Brother, I’ve got news for you. I don’t, nor does society believe that in being true to my sexuality, I’m doing anything wrong. And to suggest that I’m indoctrinating my pupils in a gay life-style, I find very, very offensive!’

‘How dare you! How dare you take offense, when I’m trying to redeem your immortal soul and save children from your unnatural practices? How dare you!’

‘Listen shithead! (Bro. Simon flinched), you’re not making any sense. How does my being true to my sexuality have anything to do with saving my soul?’ Before Bro. Simon could respond, Kenny continued with anger in his voice.

‘You charge me with unnatural practices. You hypocrite! Practicing celibacy is unnatural; it’s against all the laws of nature. I repeat it’s unnatural; don’t fuck’n lie to me. I bet you have feelings of lust just like all we humans do. You just don’t practice satisfying your lust. At least that’s what you say; I reckon you beat off senselessly to relieve the pressure. And you know what; if you do, you’re a better man for doing it. I’m all for wanking and prostitution; it stops perverts going out and molesting children or raping women.’

For a long moment the two men just glared at each other until Bro. Simon, puffed up with righteous indignation, stormed off.

‘Well, that went well,’ sighed Kenny.

♂♂

Kenny watched this kid called Billy Yorta swerve past his opponent catching him off balance, take four long strides, a bounce and then boot the footy straight between the uprights. It was done with such perfect precision and movement, that the watcher was left a little dazzled. The kid was a natural. Then the kid took a high mark by effortlessly soaring up above the pack to bring the footy down.

Kenny turned to Bro. Michael and remarked,

‘That kids a natural. Has he had any coaching or special attention?’

‘Not that I know of. These abbo kids don’t really fit in with the rest of the boys; they seem to go their own way and every time I’ve tried to talk to them they seem a bit surly. They can’t even look you in the eye. What they need is a good kick up the arse.’

What they need, (Kenny thought), is someone to be friendly and show an interest in their abilities; not a racial, bigoted shit face like you. I wonder if you even know their names. And it’s a sign of disrespect for an aboriginal kid to look you in the eye. It’s their custom.

‘What’s the tall kid’s name; the one that kicked that last goal?’

‘Billy something. I can’t get my tongue around their names. Give me a good Anglo-Saxon name anytime.’

‘Well, do you mind if I have a talk to him after practice?’

‘No, I don’t mind; but don’t be too disappointed when they don’t respond.’

After practice, Kenny culled Billy Yorta from the throng heading for the showers, and asked if he wouldn’t mind talking with him. Billy was delighted.

‘Hey Billy . . . mind if I call you Billy? Receiving an affirmative nod, Kenny continued,

‘I’m really impressed by your game. Has anyone coached you?’ Following indigenous custom, Billy looked down at the ground and replied,

‘Nah . . . just picked it up from watching the telly and kicking the footy around wid some udder kids. Us blackfellas don’t get asked to play wid the udder kids . . . ‘cause we’se black.’

‘Well, how about I give you some of my experiences and if you want to, I’ll get you to play in the local under eighteen comp. How’s that sound?’

‘Really! Cool, that’s real cool mister. But what about Brudder Michael? He don’t like us blackfellas.’

‘Let me handle Brother Mike. You just be here after school and I’ll teach you how to bend the rules, so you can get the best out of your game. Now to begin, you’re holding the footy wrong when you kick . . .’

♂♂

In Brother Michael’s class, Billy had to bear unwarranted criticism about his relationship with Kenny. At every opportunity Bro. Mike singled Billy out for criticism or just to make him look bad. Often, he seemed to suggest that there was an unhealthy relationship between Billy and Kenny. Bro. Mike’s views on homosexuality were well known and he repeatedly became virulent on the matter. Callously, he used every opportunity to verbally abuse both Kenny and Billy.

The whole school knew about it; but Brother Mike was feared by the other brothers and they just kept silent. To come out against Brother Mike might dangerously expose their own latent homosexuality and the anguish that such exposure would bring. With offers of money young, sometimes very young, indigenous boys and girls were co-opted for sexual favors in secret locations. This latter was a secret held close by only they who were involved. The need for cash was such that the boys and girls would keep silent so that a reliable flow of cash was guaranteed for their parents.

This was a scandal on a National and Inter-national scale that was to shake the Catholic Church to its very core. These predators, just so long as they could satisfy their lust, had a callous disregard for their victims and the damage souls they created.

Billy had discussed the growing problem with Kenny, who counseled turning the other cheek. Brother Mike was not inflicting any physical harm on Billy, even though he was causing emotional distress. Kenny rightly assessed that it would appear churlish to confront Brother Mike with any complaint. But, if Brother Mike continued, then Kenny would have to bring the matter before the Headmaster. However Billy was not as mature as Kenny and eventually erupted.

Brother Mike was teaching geography, white man’s geography, and asked Billy where the Murray River began.

‘Don’t give a shit!’ Billy replied. ‘Who gives a shit where the fucking river starts? I just know it passes through the land of my people, the Yorta-Yorta people, and we used to fish from it for food until it was stuffed up by you white mongrels.’

Silence crashed down on the class as everyone looked to see how Brother Mike would respond to Billy’s outburst. Brother Mike looked stunned. No-one had ever spoken back to him like that. Shock gave way to fury; his face went purple as his blood pressure climbed dangerously high.

‘How dare you! How dare you Yorta . . .’

‘My names’ Billy! Billy Yorta . . .’

‘. . . Don’t you dare interrupt me. Just who do you think you are, talking like that not just to your teacher but to a man of god?’ Into the silence he continued,

‘This is because that miserable degenerate Jones has allowed you too much leeway. Because of all the favoritism he’s given you, you think you can insult your teacher and get away with it. Well, I’ll show you just . . .’

‘Why don’t you show me? Why don’t you whip out your cock and show me. I’ll give you a good time by giving you a head job . . . won’t cost you a cent; It’s a freebee!’

The atmosphere in the class changed from fear to swelling laughter; then someone started to clap until the whole class was applauding Billy. Brother Mike went from red to white hot fury. Not only that he was put down by this indigenous boy, but the whole class obviously held him in contempt.

Only now Brother Mike reacted. Having grabbed the boy by his ear lobe, white faced he frog marched Billy down to the Headmasters office, who listened to Brother Mike in disbelief.

A shocked Bro. Dominic said,

‘I won’t have that language in my school. It’s disgusting; if what Brother Mike says is true, you’re in very serious trouble Mr. Yorta. The least I can do is suspend you. If you apologize to Brother Mike I won’t expel you. I’m ready to listen to your apology.’

‘No way! No fucking way! Why me apologize to him. Mr. Kenny has been kindness to me and me mates; where this bastard has said really bad t’ings about Mr. Kenny and me. No way!’

Br. Dominic took a long time in replying which increased the prevailing hostility. Taking a deep breath he said,

‘You leave me no choice Mr. Yorta, but to . . . no (with a sigh) I won’t expel you at this time. You’re suspended for one month from to-day. When you return, you’ll come see me before starting classes. Understood?’

T’anks sir, but what you gonna do ‘bout dis reptile here?’

‘None of your concern. Now please leave. No, Brother Michael I want to have a word.’

When Billy left, the headmaster addressed Brother Mike sternly.

‘Don’t you understand that an indigenous person won’t look someone in the eye, not out of disrespect but respect? You’re responsible for teaching these kids and yet you haven’t taken the time to explore their culture. They . . .’

‘ . . . but we have school rules that must be obeyed; we can’t run the college on abbo culture principles.’

‘Please don’t interrupt me . . . they are different yes, but each boy is different and must be treated with respect. And I’ve been aware for some time of your ambiance towards Kenny Jones, partly out of jealousy for his football exploits, but I suspect primarily because he is homosexual. I’m right, aren’t I?’

‘Maybe, perhaps; I welcome his footy experience but I can’t abide his being a queer. I mean what message are we sending to our young people . . . that if they choose to be a faggot, that’s alright?’

There was a period of silence before Bro. Dominic responded,

‘Be careful Brother Mike, be very careful. Watch your language. We cannot be seen to be actively practicing discrimination against homosexual people. Your personal opinion, nor my personal viewpoint, can be seen to influence College procedure. I’m giving you a warning Brother, keep your personal beliefs to yourself; even if such beliefs are the same as official church doctrines.’

Why is it I dislike Brother Mike so. He annoys me with his high moral stance, expecting everyone else to conform to his way – or else. He’s only a young man yet his attitude is one that you would expect from a much older person. He’s a bigot and not a very pleasant individual to have around. But what to go about Kenneth Jones – I knew no good would come with having an openly homosexual teacher at the College.

♂♂

Billy stormed out of the Headmasters office and headed for the oval with one objective in mind – revenge; revenge on Brother Mike. On the footy field he felt safe and secure because he knew he excelled over the other guys – both black and white. But as the anger subsided, it was replaced by frustration.

Been’ a blackfella hain’t no good. Dey won’t leave me alone. I’ll always be picked on just ’cause of me skin. Hain’t my fault; it’s wot ise born wid. Can’t do nutting ‘bout that heh! But geez, if Mr. Kenny stops coaching me, it’ll be bad, real bad. I like’s him real good, yeah . . . real good! If’n he wants to fuck me . . . I’d like that. But I reckon he’s cool; won’t do nutting to hurt me. He’s real cool; not like d’ose udder perv’s wid dere stoopid collars. Deyz all bullshit. All churchy up front, but dey still rant and rut when dey’s fucking me.

Lost in his misery, Billy didn’t hear Kenny until,

‘Hey, what’s the matter champ? You look miserable. What’s up?’

And Billy did look miserable; he was propped up against the goal post with his legs drawn up and his head resting on his chin. Kenny could see that tears were not far away, and at the sound of Kenny’s voice, Billy let go. He started to sob. All the pent up defense he’d stored up crumbled, and he lost it . . . lost it. Kenny was wise enough to let the boy sob it out; he sat beside Billy put his arm around the boy’s shoulders to comfort him. Eventually the sobbing subsided.

They sat side by side, sharing each other’s personal space, then at Kenny’s insistence Billy blurted out what had happened. It was a dilemma for Kenny; whilst he abhorred Brother Mike’s language, he had to support a fellow teacher in preserving discipline.

‘Billy, I reckon you got off easy. You can’t talk to a teacher like that; you’ve got to respect . . . no respects the wrong word – accept, that’s a better word. You’ve got to accept that school teachers’ do have a responsibility to maintain discipline; otherwise nothing can be accomplished. No lessons given and no learning by students.’

‘I knows that. I’se not dumb (sob). Just ‘cause I’se black don’t mean I’se (sob) stoopid.’

‘I didn’t say you were stupid. You’re not stupid; in fact I reckon you’re very intelligent. I can see that by your school grades. What’s been happening at home? Anything you want to tell me? You know I regard you as a close mate, so anything you tell me is just between you and me.’

Encouraged by the relaxed intimacy, Billy gladly started to talk about his distress.

‘Um . . . same old, same old. Me dad’s always pissed and broke; takes it out on me mum and us kids too. I got a brudder and kid sister and life hain’t too good. I worries ‘bout me kid sister; she’s only eight and no one to tell her ’bout sex stuff. Me brudder, he’s only ten, comin’ on to be hard inside.’

‘What about the members of your extended family . . . your uncles and aunts; and there must be someone in your people who can help with growing up issues?’

‘Nah, not really; all our peoples keep to themselves. It’s our culture; you whites know dip shit about us abbos.’ Billy moved closer, a little uncomfortably closer. Then,

‘Mr. Kenny, what’s it like to be gay like you? I reckon you’se copped a lot of shit growing up. Still is cruel ain’t it? I mean like the crap those hippo whitees hand out to us blackfellas; ya feel dumped on like us?’

‘Yeah Billy, I do . . . well I did. It was really bad when I was your age. We gays were even killed because we were different. And the main problem was the churches. They howled against us gays; told us that we’re evil, sinful, and bad persons. The law was no help; often gangs of straight youths would go gay hunting and bash us up. Some kids died. The cops stood by and applauded. Yeah Billy, it weren’t pretty. Thankfully, it’s changed for the better. I mean, look at me; I’m a gay man teaching in a church school. This couldn’t happen fifteen years ago. Yeah Billy, we were persecuted; not unlike you and your people.’

After a short comradely silence, Billy said softly,

‘I like you Mr. Kenny, you’se a good person. You’se different to those other hippos; ya seem to care ’bout us blackies. It feels real good to talk with ya. Yeah, I feels good . . . and’

Kenny interrupted suddenly,

‘Billy, several times you’ve mentioned the word ‘hippos’. What’s a hippopotamus got to do with anything? I don’t understand.’

‘Ahhh no Mr. Kenny, not the animal; I means the churchies with dere funny white collars and black dresses. We call dem ‘hippos’ ’cause deyz all bull shit.’

‘You mean - hypocrites? People who talk one way but do another?

‘Yeh dats it, dem too! Hippocr . . . Ummm, what you said.’

‘How are they being hypocritical? I don’t understand.’

‘Well, dem wots telling us doing sex is bad, but then they pay us for giving dem head jobs and fucking us up the arse. Dat’s where I gets me money for home from. Dey want to fuck me young brudder but he sez he’s too small so I let dem do it t’ me instead. All right for me an Botj, but I worries ’bout me kid sister; she’s only eight and I heard dat someone’s been sniffing round. It not right, s’ wrong.’

There it was – Gloria’s instinct was right! Billy has just admitted that there was some kind of sex exploitation going on.

‘Billy, we have to be very careful here. If what you say is true – and I believe you- we can’t accuse anybody without absolute proof.’

‘Hey, hold on Mr. Kenny, hold on. I don’t want see the money stopped, we’se need the cash. My family need the cash, same as the udder kids. We needs it! Anyways, you’ll never stop it; too many big buggers involved. Jus’ let it be; ain’t a problem. Problem is If’n you name some of the big buggers, they’ll come down heavy on us blacks. For sure, dey would kill us, for sure!’

The intensity of Billy’s outburst surprised Kenny, the lad was really scared; not just for the loss of income but for being physically hurt . . . even killed.

Is there a solution? I don’t know. On one hand I have a responsibility for the children’s welfare; on the other, I can’t accuse any one unless I have absolute proof. If there are powerful persons involved then the kids’ lives are definitely at risk. If only I had a better relationship with Cree. All I can do is relate Billy’s confession – is that the right word? to Gloria. She’ll know best; hopefully.

Out loud he counseled,

‘Billy, I won’t say a word of this to anyone unless they have my complete confidence. I promise. I understand where you’re coming from and the danger to you if any accusations are levied. Trust me Billy. You’ve got to trust me.’

With a brotherly squeeze of Billy’s shoulder, he said,

‘Off you go now; we’ll put off training for today. I reckon you’re not that enthusiastic hey? If it’s ok, I’ll come by and talk to you at home. For the next month, we can train at the local footy ground until your suspension is over. OK?’

He watched as Billy got up and sauntered rather dejectedly away. Just then, his mobile rang, and when he answered . . .,

‘Kenny . . . it’s me, Jeff. Ummm . . . need to talk. Please . . . sorry for being an arsehole, but please, can you meet with me at the Shearers Arms just outside town around six tonight?’