Chronicles Of An Academic Predator - 25. Chapter 25

November 22, 1962

I went to bed early and waited and waited and waited. I finally convinced myself that Jeff wasn't coming, which was no mean feat since he always does what he says he's going to do. Maybe he was so mad at me that he'd break his normal pattern. I worked myself up into a panic, and then forced myself to calm down. This was one of the most important conversations of my life. It was probably my only chance to save my friendship with Jeff. I planned and re-planned what I was going to say, then I agonized over my appearance, trying to figure out what I should wear. Wearing nothing would be too slutty, fully dressed would be too much. I finally settled on boxers and a t-shirt. Even then, I took pains to pick the boxers that looked best on me, and to make sure my t-shirt was crisp and clean.

About midnight I heard the door slide open and my heart leaped with anticipation. I looked over to the window and saw Jeff's large shape emerge. The room was dark except for the moonlight that shone through the windows. He came over and sat on the bed, not next to me, but still he sat on the bed. I was grasping at straws, trying to find any positive sign that I could.

“Sorry I'm late,” he said with his deep melodic voice. “I ended up hanging out with some people from school.”

“It's no problem. Thanks for coming to see me,” I said, but it sounded really stunted. Suddenly, now that he was here, I was tongue tied. I kept trying to speak, but the words, any words, refused to come out.

“So what do you want to talk about?” he asked. There was a degree of resignation in his voice, telling me that he didn't want to have this conversation, but he felt obligated to.

“I'm sorry. I planned out everything I wanted to say to you, but now that you're here in front of me, I'm speechless.” He smiled at me. He smiled at me! More grasping at straws.

“Relax JP. Just tell me what you want to say.” His voice, so calming, was like a handle that turned on the faucet. I went over to him and dropped to my knees in between his and grabbed both of his hands.

“I'm so sorry, so sorry, that I hurt you. You are so important to me, and it kills me to think of the pain I caused you, and to know that there's nothing I can do about it.” I felt my tears start to flow. Shit. I'm being such a pussy. What was it about this guy that short-circuited all of my emotional controls? I felt him tense up, felt his hands pull back as if he were getting ready to pull away from me.

I babbled on, hoping I'd find the magic words to save us. “You are a great friend, a great guy, and I love you. There, I said it. I love you. What can I do to repair the damage I caused? How can I make things right between us?” I just looked at him, begging him for something, anything.

He looked at me, and he could see the torture I was going through. I saw him try to slough it off, to just be tough, but he cared too much about me to do that. Instead he sighed and lay down on the bed, pulling me with him so I was lying on his chest. He held me and stroked my hair and back while I bawled my eyes out. I couldn't believe he was trying to comfort me after I hurt him so badly. Feeling him there, feeling his strength, warmth, and calmness, reminded me of what I'd given up. Feeling his gentle and caring touch, his warm body beneath me, made that almost unbearable.

“JP, I really really loved you. I had fallen hook, line, and sinker. I'm not an idiot. I knew there was someone else. But I always figured that you loved me too, and that when push came to shove, you'd pick me. But you didn't.” I looked up at him and saw the tears in his eyes too. I wiped them away with my fingers. He gave me a slight smile to thank me.

“It hurt me so bad. It hurt me so bad I almost thought about moving back home so my dad could beat the shit out of me and make the pain physical, not emotional.” I was about to freak out but he stopped me. “But I'm smarter than that, so don't worry.” I sighed with relief.

“So gradually, I've worked hard to get over you. I've even started dating someone, this really nice girl named Carol. I'm finally to the point where I don't think about you all the time, where I don't cry myself to sleep at night, and where I don't feel the hate and anger toward you that comes with it.” If he had reached in and pulled out my intestines and cut them up in pieces in front of me, he couldn't have caused me more pain than this.

“Do you love her?” I asked. All that stuff that he just told me, and that comes out of my mouth? I cursed myself for the idiot that I was.

“No, JP, I don't. But I'm hoping that with time I will, or I will find someone to love. It feels good to be in love, but it's horrible to lose it.”

“So I guess this means you won't be able to forgive me? That you and me, we're over?” I knew the answer before I asked. But without this final thrust of the knife, I'd never be able to move on.

“I don't hate you JP, and there's nothing to forgive. Yes, you hurt me, but I know you didn't mean to. I know that, in your own way, you love me. But you don't love only me, and that's what I can't deal with. And we both know that, if you had to make the same choice again, you would.”

We just lay there, but this time the silence wasn't golden, it was just a chasm of sadness.

“So to answer your question,” he said, “there's nothing to forgive, but there isn't any more “us”. I'd like to be your friend, and maybe that can happen, but seeing you just reopens those old wounds. You need to give me some time and some space.”

I looked up at him and grabbed his head, pulled him to me, and kissed him. At first he didn't respond, but then he did, with a passion. In a second, he was on top of me and I wrapped myself around him, using the physical contact to brush away the pain. I felt him responding, felt his body thrusting against mine, his hard dick against mine, his lips telling me that he loved me even when his mouth didn't. Then, showing amazing restraint, he stopped and pushed himself away. That was pretty impressive for an 18 year old guy with surging hormones. And for a fleeting second, while we'd had that intimate moment, the pain had gone, but now that the moment was over, the pain was back, stronger than ever.

“No, I can't do this,” he said with resolve, and he got up to leave.

“Jeff,” I called, and he turned around. “I'll respect your wishes, but you know that you still love me, and I still love you. We were meant to be together, and someday, somehow, we will be.”

“You may be right JP. But that someday isn't today.” And with that, he left.

November 23, 1962

I was determined to have a better day today than yesterday, and it started from the minute I woke up. Despite my devastating conversation with Jeff, I felt better. At least I knew what was going on, at least I knew how he felt, and despite all the shit that happened, despite what he said, I knew he still loved me. In essence, I'd started out uncertainty at the beginning of the day yesterday and traveled through devastation, realization, and now, finally, I was left with one thing and one thing only: hope. And hope is a powerful thing.

Despite that, I really didn't want to stick around here. I felt trapped, and out of my element. I decided to see if I could finagle a way home tomorrow, and Fritz was my best chance of making that happen. Apparently he'd gone home with the Schluters and was hanging out with Stefan. That made me smile. I'd lay odds Stefan had gotten Fritz to fuck him. The first call I made was to Tonto. She tracked Fritz down for me.

“I'm sorry I left without talking to you first...” he started. I interrupted him.

“It's no big deal. I'm glad you did. Listen, when is your leave up?” I was being terse, hoping his military training would pick up on that and leave all the bullshit aside. He paused for a minute and I heard him rustling through some papers.

“I have to catch a train Sunday night.”

“If you have to catch a train on Sunday, we'll have to leave tomorrow.”

He hesitated. “Well, it's not till Sunday night, so we could probably leave in the morning.” He was right, but there was no way I was sticking around. I was getting the fuck out of here.

“We can't take that chance. We leave tomorrow after we wake up. I gotta run. See you later tonight.” And with that I hung up, leaving him in Stefan's fiendish hands.

I found my parents eating breakfast. They were both happy to see me until I told them I was leaving tomorrow. I could see the disappointment on their faces, but they'd just have to live with it.

“Dad, I need to run an errand. Think you could drive me?” I asked

That caught him off guard. But he was off today, couldn't work even if he wanted to. “Sure. Let me get my coat.” I winked at my mother, as if to tell her that we were going to spend some quality father/son time.

“So where are we off to?” he asked me as we drove down Skyline.

“The Chevy dealer. I want one of those new Corvettes.”

He shrugged. “Yours is still pretty new.”

“Yeah, but the new model is the end Dad. Have you seen it? It even has a split window in the back.” That piqued his interest.

The dealer only had one in stock, and it was loaded. Good. My father was as excited about it as I was, he's a car guy. We managed to pry the car out of the hands of the dealer by paying full sticker, something that irritated my father, but he let it pass soon enough. It had the F1 engine, so when I started it up at just growled like a tiger. Inside, the leather interior made it feel almost European, and it had been equipped with a 36 gallon fuel tank so I’d be able to drive straight through to Chicago without stopping for gas. Best of all it had a 4 speed manual transmission, which was great because my other car was an automatic and I was getting sick of it. I was too much of a control freak to let the car shift for me. Sebring Silver was the color, and even that cost extra. I didn't care. I fell in love with it immediately.

My father headed home while I went over to the Schluters to pick up Fritz. I had to make a quick stop on the way to get a birthday card for Jeff, but that didn't take long.

I thought Fritz was going to cream his pants when he saw the new car. “We'll be riding home in style for sure,” he said with one of his goofy voices. Stefan ogled him while he ogled the car. I looked at him and raised my eyebrows as if to question him. He just smiled and shrugged his shoulders. Yeah, the little shit had nailed him.

I went in to say goodbye to Tonto, then stopped by to hug Stefan. He whispered in my ear. “Thanks for the boy toy. I'm so excited to see who you bring me next time.” I laughed and slapped his back.

Laying in bed that night I decided that I did have a better day. I thought about sneaking into the guest room to fuck around with Fritz, but my slutty ways had been partially responsible for my problems. I stripped down and got in bed, put my hands behind my head, and tried to ponder what to do with my future. Jeff was right. I would have made the same choice. Andre would always claim priority; he'd always be the number one guy in my life. The connection was too deep, and the bond too strong. It was unfair to lead someone like Jeff on. I was going to have to make sure that, in the future, I limited my sexual release to encounters with no emotional attachments. I couldn't risk doing this again. I couldn't risk hurting someone like that again.

I heard the window slide and wondered who it could be. I smiled to myself when I realized that I'm such a slut it could be Sammy, Fritz, or even Stefan. He could drive now. But it wasn't any of them. It was Jeff. My heart jumped into my throat.

“You awake?” he asked.

“Yep,” I said.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” he asked.

“I always have room in my bed for you,” I joked. He snaughed.

I heard his clothes falling to the floor and felt him climb into bed and snuggle up behind me. “I was so strong last night, but I just can't stand to be near you, and not be with you,” he whispered in my ear. “So I thought maybe we could spend your last night here together?” I felt his body curve into mine, and I felt his soft skin, that soft layer of fat that cushioned his hard body, and his hard cock probing between my ass cheeks.

“I'd spend my life with you if I could,” I murmured. I reached for the Vaseline and greased my hole, and his pole. He entered me gently, and slowly. He wasn't fucking me; he was making love to me. Then he started whispering in my ear, driving me crazy with his words.

“Oh baby, I missed you so much. It's been hell without you. I need to be with you so bad, to be inside you, to be one with you. God I love you so much. I dream about being inside you like this, feeling you wrapped around my cock. I still think about you every time I jack off. Every load I shoot, I imagine I'm shooting it in you.” His cock was hitting my spot, his hand was working my dick, and his words were healing my psyche. I melted completely into him, moaning and whimpering in response to him, to the feel of him, to being with him. I didn't even think about cumming, I only thought about how good it felt to be with him, about the here and now. When we finally did come, we came together, and it was so natural, it built up so perfectly, it almost surprised me. It wasn't like the raw orgasm I'd had with Fritz a few days ago. When I shot, it felt like I wasn't ejaculating, it felt like I was absorbing him, absorbing Jeff inside me. Not just his load, but his essence, his love: him.

Afterwards, he got up to leave but I stopped him. “Please stay with me. Sex with you is great, like no other, but I like being with you best of all.” He smiled at me, a big smile, and lay down on his back, letting me snuggle up to my big teddy bear. I knew it was only temporary. I knew in a few hours, he'd be gone. But for right now, he was mine, and I was his.

November 24, 1962

Jeff was gone when I woke up, and his absence made me sad. Still, he'd come to see me, we'd made love. He still loved me. There was hope. I got up, got ready, and finished wrapping his birthday present, putting a big red bow on the package. I gave it to my mother and told her not to give it to him until after I left so I didn't have to argue about it. She looked at me strangely, but agreed.

Inside, he'd find three things. The keys to my old Corvette, the title signed over to him, and a letter:

Dear Jeff,

When you open this and realize that I've given you my old Corvette, the first thing you'll want to do is argue with me. You'll refuse to take it, you'll tell me that I can't buy you or your love, and you'll adamantly deny my generosity. So to outfox you, I've arranged for you to get this after I left. Pretty sneaky huh?

Seriously, I'm not trying to buy your love. You've proven to me that I already have it. It may have some dents and dings, but it's still there, and we both know it. And I'm not trying to buy you back into my life. You know that I'm there for you, with all my imperfections, and my divided loyalties, whenever you want me.

But you need a car, and I want you to have it. I hope that when you drive it, you'll think of me and all the good times we've had. I hope you'll think about our magical time in Chicago, and it will show you how much I appreciated you helping me move and decorate my apartment. I hope you'll think about our time together, just talking and enjoying each other. And I hope you'll think about the amazing times we've had making love, and that it will remind you of what an absolutely fantastic lover you are. No one has ever taken me to the peaks of ecstasy that you have, and I doubt anyone else ever will.

No one else has ever been able to make me feel the way you have. You make me calm and excited at the same time, you make me feel loved and protected. I can be with you and not say anything, and still communicate with you more effectively than I can with most people using words.

But I know I hurt you badly, and saying I'm sorry won't take away that pain. If you feel the need to move on and date other people, I won't try to stop you. Your happiness means more to me than my own. And if you feel the need to sell the Corvette and buy something else, that's OK too. Just know that no matter where you go and where you are, I will always love you, even if that love can only be expressed as friendship.

JP

It was a lame letter, but I'd tried hard to express myself and how I felt, and I'd done the best I could. He knew me well enough to know that the words came from my heart.

We got packed up by noon and headed out. I loved my new car. The handling, the power, everything about it was just incredible. I let Fritz drive for awhile too, and he really got into it. Fritz was goofy as ever and I ended up laughing most of the way home. I also gave him some shit about Stefan.

“So did you like my cousin?” I prodded. He blushed a little and got uncomfortable.

“He's a good kid.” That was pretty noncommittal.

“Oh yeah. How good?” Now he was really squirming.

He steeled himself, put on his game face and responded. “Damn good, but not as good as you.”

“You should go into politics Mr. Charmer,” I countered, and we both laughed it off. Stefan is such a little slut, like I'm one to talk, but it's hard not to like him.

The evening found us home, safe and sound, sitting around the condo drinking beers with Jason. He seemed different somehow, a little colder, a little tougher, and a little sadder. I'd have to find out what happened to him later. In the meantime, the three of us hung out and just had a good time, drank a bunch of beer, and got hammered.

Sober me had planned to spend a sexless night with Fritz, but drunk me let him fuck me like a two dollar whore. What a contrast from Jeff. Jeff satisfied me on so many levels, while Fritz just drained my balls. Not that it wasn't fun. Besides, he said I was a better fuck than Stefan, and that won him a freebie or two.

November 25, 1962

Fritz told me that he wanted to go down and see his family before he left, so we bid him farewell in the morning. He'd been a fun, cheerful house guest, but his link with Andre had made dealing with Jeff a little more difficult for my psyche. How ironic that I'd gone from no love in my life, to two great guys at the same time. I guess I was lucky that both were miles away. Then I reminded myself that I'd made my choice, and Jeff wasn't my second fiddle that I could just pull out and play. The more I thought about that, the more I realized why he was hurt so bad by my decision. My emotions were so frayed that I had to really work to compose a letter to Andre for Fritz to take back. I was failing my two guys on all fronts.

Jason and I were left in the condo, just the two of us. His demeanor was still different. Something had happened to him when he went home. I'd tried to pry it out of him, but he wasn't talking. In the end, we just settled back down to our routine.

December 21, 1962

If the last day before Thanksgiving break was busy, that was nothing compared to the last day of the semester. This time, Jason couldn't handle everything. Evidently it was my job, and my job alone, to hear the begging, the cajoling, the angling, and all the sorry stories of students hoping to drive up their grades. The good news is that we'd been able to make sure all but two people passed the class, and out of 150 students I only had to give out five “D”s. None of those “D”s went to students affiliated with the athletic department, not because we gave them special favors, but because I'd kept a tight relationship with the coaches. It worked very well, and Jason and I adopted it as a model for next year.

Still, the whining continued. Sitting in front of me was a pretty young girl, a brunette with huge tits. She was basically throwing her body at me hoping to move from a B to a B+. I laughed inside. I wanted to say “Honey, I get my fruit from a different produce stand,” but I was polite instead. She was stuck with her “B”.

The day wound down, until at 3pm I closed my office door. Jason and I went through the grading sheets to make sure there were no mistakes, and I prepared the final list for submission to the registrar. There was a knock on my door. Jason and I looked at each other and sighed, then he got up to open the door. One last student here to whine about a grade? I fortified myself to be firm and say “no” to any more changes. But it wasn't a student, it was Annie.

“Dr. Crampton, you have a visitor.” She saw me start to complain. “It's another military man.” That got me excited. Maybe this time it was Andre! Maybe he got leave for Christmas. Or if not, maybe it was another one of his men with another uncensored letter!

“Please show him in Annie.” Jason got up to leave but I motioned him to stay.

An older man emerged behind Annie, this one an officer. “Dr. Crampton, my name is Major Chalmers and I'm with the US Army Reserve.” I shook his hand. This was odd. Why would Andre send me a Major? And a Major in the reserves, no less?

“Nice to meet you Major. This is my assistant, Jason Strubbe.” They shook hands. “Please have a seat. What can I do for you today?”

The major was incredibly uncomfortable. Jason picked up on it too. “Dr. Crampton, you are listed as the next of kin for Lieutenant Andre Clerreault.” I nodded, feeling my heart sink, feeling my world start to spin completely out of control. The next of kin reference was only important for one thing.

“I have the unfortunate responsibility to inform you that Lt. Clerreault was killed last week in a small village some 75 miles north of Saigon. I'm so sorry for your loss. You should know that Lt. Clerreault died quite bravely, sacrificing himself to save other members of his platoon. He'll undoubtedly be awarded a posthumous medal. He was a true patriot.”

His words were like a guillotine, finalizing the thing I knew was coming. My world fell out beneath me. I felt like you do when you're on a roller coaster and you go down that first hill. Only the drop wasn't ending. I couldn't speak. I couldn't move. I couldn't think. I couldn't feel. If I let myself feel, the pain would be too great, too much to handle. I forced myself to just be numb.

I heard Jason intervene for me. “I know this must be a very hard duty Major. Thank you for coming in person. If we have questions, is there a way to contact you?” Then the major gave Jason a card, and then he was gone. And so was Andre.

I sat there in a daze. I was aware that Jason was staring at me. “JP, why don't we get out of here? Let's go home. Come on, I'll drive.” I just followed him dumbly. The secretaries stared at me as he led me out. They watched my expression and could tell it was something horrible. My mask never came down like this. In the back of my mind I noted their concern, and that they actually cared about me, but none of that mattered right now. Nothing mattered. Andre was gone. Andre was dead. And then it hit me. He was dead. DEAD!?! It was like the numbness was receding like the waves on a beach, leaving only pain and sorrow behind.

Jason hurried me to the car, sensing my mood change. I felt the leather against my back, cold and unyielding in this weather. The car started and it was moving. DEAD! He was DEAD! This was horrible. But I couldn't really comprehend it. It was just this horrible event that hung there, so horrible it was incomprehensible.

Jason dragged me into the condo and sat me down on the couch. He got us each a beer and sat next to me. The last time I'd spent with Andre had been here, here in this condo. I looked at the couch and remembered how he'd bent me over it and penetrated me forcefully. How even though the sex was aggressive, it was full of love. I'd never see him again. I'd lost him. And then the pain broke through.

I screamed. Screamed at the top of my lungs. Screamed with sadness, then with fury. The fucking army had taken him away, sent him to Vietnam which any thinking person could see was a total fucking mess, and then they'd mismanaged things so badly that he ended up dead. My anchor. My soul mate. Dead. I was alone in the world. Alone and adrift.

Then came the tears and sobs. Jason was there. His scrawny shoulders growing with the crisis. He held me tight, letting me sob and sob and sob. Finally I could handle no more, and he put me to bed.

But I didn't sleep. I just laid there. Thinking about Andre. Remembering him and our time together. Sharing the apartment in Princeton, going to Paris and New York. New York where we first made love and Chicago where we'd been a real couple, if for only a few days at a time. The tears wouldn't stop.

The pain came in waves and it was horrible. The pain of knowing that he was gone forever. The pain of losing his smile, his jokes, his friendship; I’d never know those again. They'd live forever in my memory, but never here in this world. I doubled over and went fetal.

I was conscious that Jason looked in on me several times. I was aware that he came in and held me. I was aware that he was worried. I didn't care. Life wasn't worth living. My soul mate was dead. I might as well be too.

December 22, 1962

It was Jason who brought me out of my grief coma. It was early in the morning when he came into my room and sat on my bed. “JP, tell me about Andre.” I looked up at him and, amid tears, I told Jason about Andre. More importantly, I told him about us. I told him about the first time I'd blown Andre, about the first time he made love to me, about our visits. Jason unwittingly, or maybe cleverly, made me remember the Andre that I knew and loved. He made me remember the good times. He made me remember why I loved Andre.

I got up and took a shower. I began to live again, but I was hollow. I sat at the dining room table drinking coffee, watching the snow fall and the wind blow around the condo. Jason came and sat with me and I grabbed his hand.

“Thanks for being here with me and helping me through this. I'm really going to need you in the months ahead.” I was reaching out for him, begging him to be strong for me. He grabbed my hand to tell me he'd do just that.

“JP, you've done so much for me. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you.” I smiled at him.

“What are you doing for Christmas?” I asked him. I realized that we'd been so busy we hadn't even talked about it.

“I'm going to stay here,” he said glumly. I looked at him and he continued. “Thanksgiving didn't go too well. There's no reason for me to go home.” I nodded.

“Looks like we both have our crosses to bear.” We sat there contemplating our own personal hells. “I think you should come to Claremont with me.”

“I don't know JP. I don't feel very festive.”

Time to use some emotional blackmail for his own good. “I need to head home and I just don't know if I'm up to driving by myself. I guess I was being a little selfish, figuring that you could help me out. I'm sorry, it was wrong of me to impose.”

I saw him grapple with that, remembering that he'd just promised to do anything for me. “I wouldn't want to intrude on your family JP.”

“You wouldn't be. We always have lots of people around. It's festive. It's fun. You can help me deal with the bullshit. When it gets to be too much we can sneak off and be miserable together.” I actually smiled when I said that, and he smiled back at me.

He caved gallantly. “When do we leave?”