Chronicles Of An Academic Predator - 48. Chapter 48

Stefan was the closest to the elevator so he went over and pushed the button. The door opened and Willie Jackson came bursting out, looking really pissed off. Stefan eyed him disdainfully. “Hey Willie. What brings you here?”

“I'm looking for Jeff. Is he here?”

Jeff looked at me and I knew what he was thinking. He knew he was going to have to hurt Willie, and he didn't want to. I didn't really want him to either, but if that's what had to happen for Jeff to be all mine again, then that's how it would have to be.

I stepped forward before Jeff could. “Hey Willie, we were just celebrating Jeff's birthday. Come on in and have some cake.”

“I don't want any fucking cake.” The he spotted Jeff. “I knew I'd find you here. I just knew it. You promised me we'd do something tonight. You told me we'd go out! I fuckin' knew you'd be here.”

Jeff was getting pissed. “Watch your mouth, there are ladies here,” he said, referring to Isidore and Betty, who weren't offended by the exchange. If anything, they were interested and curious.

“I'm sorry,” he said to them, but he might as well have given them the finger. “This is all you,” he said, yelling at me. “You couldn't let him go. You couldn't leave him alone.” He lunged at me and I stood there, remarkably calm if I do say so myself. Jeff intercepted him and tossed him back in the elevator.

“Willie, we're done. It was fun, it was good, and it's over. This is my home, this is where I belong, and this is where I'm staying.” And the elevator doors closed on Willie Jackson.

November 15, 1963

The last ten days had been a dream. Everything had been going great. Jeff was insatiable, and so was I. I just could not get enough of him. Willie had vanished into the mass of students at Northwestern, and I felt really bad for him. I knew, probably better than anyone else, how he felt. But he preyed on my guy in the first place, so from my point of view, he got what he deserved. Then this morning I'd gotten the call I'd been hoping for. The hospital was ready to release Jason, and needed me to come pick him up. That meant that Jeff and I had to have a conversation.

I went back into the bedroom after the phone call and found him sprawled across the top of the bed, lying on his stomach, his naked form a work of art. I crawled up behind him, between his legs, running my cheek up his thigh as I moved up to his groin. He moaned lightly and spread his legs giving me access. I got up to his balls and nuzzled my nose into them, and into his perineum, inhaling his musk, then using the tip of my nose I traced along his perineum and across his pucker. His hole flexed at the touch, and I rewarded its little wink by lavishing attention on it with my tongue. He was humping his ass back into my mouth, and I was so hard and so excited I moved up, lubed my cock, and gently entered him.

I usually liked it when he fucked me, and I think he liked that better too, but it was fun for both of us to switch places. I learned to go slow and easy with him, not that he couldn't take it, but because it made it more fun for him. I moved in and out of him, relishing the feeling of his tight ass as he squeezed me, the feeling of power that came from penetrating this magnificent male specimen, a man who could break me in half. Yet this man was letting me probe his most secret and protected of places, and he loved it. I didn't last long, and neither did he.

“JP, that was awesome. I love it when you fuck me. I don't think I could trust anyone else to do that.”

I smiled at him and kissed him. “I love you too.” I paused and he looked at me funny. “Jeff, I need to ask you a favor.”

“Uh oh. This doesn't sound good. What is it?”

“Well, I went out to see Jason a while back and promised him that when he was well, when they were ready to let him out of the hospital, he could come back and stay here.” I saw the conflict surge across his face.

“Why did you do that?” he asked, but not in a mean way, in a curious way.

“Because after all that he's been through, when I went to see him it wasn't that evil person we saw the night he left, it was the person that we all knew and loved before that. He's done so much for me, helped me out, and been there for me when times have really been tough. He's been a good friend. I just couldn't desert him.” I watched his expression change as he digested this, knowing that if anything he was a bigger pussy cat than I was.

“You don't need my permission to invite someone to live in your condo,” he said, trying to dodge the issue.

“Yes I do. It's our condo, not my condo. Plus I kind of told him a little white lie.”

“Oh?” I really had his attention now.

“He told me that you'd never let him move back in, that you hated him. I told him that wasn't true, and that, in fact you were the one who thought of inviting him back.”

He looked at me, down his nose, in a mildly irritated manner. “So you set me up to be the good guy in all of this, which is pretty nice of you, except it kind of leaves me stuck going along with it.”

“Well yeah, I thought I was pretty clever too,” I joked, and he just shook his head. “I want you to go out with me to get him today.”

“What? You want me to go out to the Funny Farm,” he saw my eyebrows rise and held up his hand, “excuse me, the hospital, and bring him back here?”

“Yep.”

He flopped back onto the pillow in frustration and I lay there, gently stroking his chest. “OK. Fine. I'll do it.”

Jeff bitched the whole way out there and came up with a host of reasons why Jason the Psycho shouldn't be staying with us. In the end, I promised him that if Jason got freaky, I'd help him get his own place to live. After that he sort of calmed down, not because it was a good idea, but because at least he'd won some small concession from me. I made a mental note to do something nice for him.

Jason was waiting for us, and seemed like a calmer, sadder version of his old self. He saw Jeff and almost panicked, and that really affected Jeff. He was amazing, truly amazing. He actually dropped down to his knees and asked Jason to come over to him, trying not to look threatening. Jason approached him cautiously, and Jeff reached out and grabbed him, pulling him into a big bear hug. Jason had looked terrified for a minute, and then he got a big grin on his face. Jeff let him go, saw the big grin, and hugged him again.

“You ready to go home Jason?” he asked. I smiled at him and our eyes connected, and I tried to tell him telepathically how much I loved him, and what a nice, caring guy he was. I think I got through.

November 16, 1963

Winter was coming, but today was a gorgeous day, in the 70's and sunny. A perfect day to go see Jeff play football. I'd called in some favors at the athletic department and gotten kick ass tickets, almost on the field, for me and Tom and Stefan and Jason. I hadn't gone to many of his games, because most of them had taken place during our “separation,” but it was great to see him on the field, in action again.

Jason was the most excited. He loved football. He'd gotten all moved in last night, although he really didn't have much stuff left. I promised myself that we'd go shopping for him later, maybe after the game if he was up to it. He seemed OK, but every once in awhile he'd get really skittish. He was going to have weekly therapy sessions for awhile to help him adjust to the real world, but he seemed fine so far.

Jeff was on the field so I focused on the game. I don't know what they called the plays, but I equated the game to something I could relate to, military maneuvers. The infantry attacked our line, but our troops held. Meanwhile, the general had the ball while our cavalry surged down the field, attempting to rout the enemy army. I watched Jeff fly down the field, I saw the ball fly to him, I held my breath while he caught it, and held it even harder when the tackle brought him down. But he jumped up and spiked the ball onto the field with a huge whoop. A 47 yard gain on the play, chirped the announcer. We went wild. I told him where we'd be sitting and I saw him glance in our direction and we made eye contact. I was so proud of him, and he knew it.

“I really miss being on campus,” Jason said.

“Then why don't you come back?”

“And do what?” He looked confused.

“Get your doctorate. That's what you were planning on wasn't it?”

“I don't know if I'm ready to start anything that ambitious.” I was mindful of the doctor's instructions, cautioning against pushing him too hard.

“Well, then maybe over time, when you're ready, that can be an option. I can still use a T.A.” Tom glanced at me, horrified, but I winked at him and he calmed down. Tom sucked as a T.A., but when he filled in he did a great job teaching.

“I thought Tom was doing that.”

“Yeah, but he hates it. And he kind of sucks at it.” Tom smiled and nodded. “I want to try and get him into the classroom doing some teaching.” That got me a big grin. When he smiled like that it reminded me of what an incredibly cute, soft, plungeable ass he had.

“You serious about that?” Jason asked.

“Sure. I'll work it out with Peterson next week. You relax for a week and you can come in and help us out with the end of the year crunch time.”

Tom chimed in. “That would be great if you could do that Jason.”

Jason’s smile, the look on his face, told me that it was the right thing to do. Jason had been making a lot of progress at healing his old wounds and regaining his former sweet personality, but all that was fragile if he didn't feel useful.

After the game we met Jeff outside the locker room. A lot of the players went by and stopped to talk to Jason and me since they'd known us from class, and also Tom, to a somewhat lesser degree. It made me feel a bit like a celebrity. They'd won, 42 to 14, and there was a big party planned.

One of the linebackers called out to Jeff. “Hayes, you comin' to the party?”

“Nah, I got plans. You guys have fun.” And he turned to go home with us.

“You could have gone with them if you wanted,” I said.

“I know I could have. I didn't want to. I want to be with you guys.” Stefan, with his playful streak, jumped on Jeff's back and tried to ride him like a pony until Jeff toppled him into a puddle. The next thing I knew we were tossing mud and rocks at each other and having a fucking blast. I guess you pay for these good days with the bad days. I figured that in that case, I had lots of good days coming, and this was just one of them.

November 17, 1963

The dorms were nasty, especially after three months of occupation by undergraduates. I hid my disdain, and my irritation that Jeff had chosen this hole over our condo, but I reminded myself that Jeff really didn't care about things like that. He liked to be around people that were important to him, even if it meant living in a shithole. That probably described much of his childhood.

We'd driven over to campus together in the Riviera so he could pack up his stuff. I'd gone to my office and he headed to the dorms, and he was supposed to come pick me up when he was done packing. Unfortunately, like an idiot I'd let him take my keys and I didn't realize that until I got to the door of the department offices and found them locked. But it was another beautiful day so I sighed and made the best of it, walking across campus to track Jeff down.

I wandered through the corridors looking for his room, and along the way ran into some of my students, who stopped me to talk. It seemed to take forever to find Jeff's room, and when I approached it I heard very heated voices inside. I paused outside and looked around to make sure no one was there watching me eavesdrop.

“I can't believe you bailed on me! You told me you loved me!” That was clearly Willie Jackson's voice.

“I never told you I loved you Willie. You told me you loved me. We were buds having a good time. I didn't mean to hurt you.” I heard Jeff say.

“Yes you did. You said it while you were sliding your dick up my ass. Remember that? Remember how you told me I had the hottest ass ever, how I was the best fuck you ever had?” Willie was screaming now, clearly unhinged.

“I'm sorry if I led you on. What do you want from me? I'm moving home, I'm back together with JP, and that's not changing. It would be great to be your friend, but not if you're going to try and rape me every time I see you, or make me feel like shit for not picking you.”

Then I heard a scuffle, and then silence. I pushed the door open and Willie was on top of Jeff, kissing him. Jeff looked at me in a panic, and Willie turned to me triumphantly. “Hey JP. See your loyal boyfriend? You watch. He'll be here every time you're in class, fucking me.” Jeff pushed him off and jumped up, looking furious. I put my hand on his arm to calm him.

“It would be hard to blame him Willie. You're a pretty hot piece of ass,” I said. They both just stared at me. That was not the reaction they expected, which was exactly why I'd done it.

“You'll never find out again,” he said bitingly.

I laughed. “No problem. I've got everything I need.” And I put my hand on Jeff's shoulder and leaned into him.

“You motherfucker,” he said, and moved towards me menacingly. Jeff moved to fend him off but I stopped him.

“Willie, you so much as lay a finger on a faculty member, especially on campus, and you'll be out of this University and on your way to the Army so fast your head will spin.” He stopped and looked at me. “You probably don't believe me, but I understand, better than anyone else how you feel. And I like you, I always have, and if it were anything else I'd probably back off and try to ease your pain. But not for this guy,” I said, pointing at Jeff. “I love him, and I'm willing to fight for him, using every single dirty trick, spending my very last dollar, to keep him with me.”

There was silence in the room. “You and I have been friends, and we've been through a lot together. You want to hate me, go ahead. You want to fight a blood feud, let's go. But after the dust settles, I'd rather be your friend.” He snickered, thinking I was weakening. “But until then, you can get the fuck out of here, and stay the fuck out of our lives.” He didn't budge. “Move!” I yelled, and he reluctantly shuffled out.

Jeff watched him go sadly. “JP, I'm sorry about that, I wasn't trying to...” I kissed him to shut him up.

“I know. It's OK. Can we just get the fuck out of here and go home?” He smiled at me and we left the dorms, and Jeff closed that chapter in his life.

November 22, 1963

It was cold again. Fucking cold. The only good news about that was that it showed how effective my new windows were. Stefan had been spending a lot of time upstairs the past few days, and I figured it was just so he could stay warm. I was so pissed off that I didn't put in a fireplace or two, although I'm not sure how you do that in a high rise. Something to think about. I was glad Stefan was around. He was really our court jester, and he kept all of us happy. Jason just adored him, and Tom was clearly in love with him. The big question was whether Stefan was in love with Tom, and I don't think he was there, at least not yet. But they were happy for now, so why rock the boat?

I was worried about Isidore because she continued to have a tough time with her pregnancy. She was really sick most of the time, and the doctor had advised her to take it easy. He banned her from smoking, which she'd pretty much given up anyway, and drinking. So she just wandered from her bed to the bathroom, and in to see Ace. He was a blast, and he thrived on attention. Good thing, since he got a lot of it. Between Betty and Isidore, me and Jeff, and then Jason, Stefan, and Tom, he wasn't bored. He was getting more and more animated, and I found myself spending lots of time with him. It worked out great, since Isidore didn't feel well enough to really play with him, and Betty had other things to do as well. I smiled to myself, relishing the closeness and cohesiveness of “my” little flock, our family.

I drove to campus because it was so cold. The only real benefit was that it was faster and there wasn't any wind, since the car didn't warm up by the time my commute ended. I stared at the temperature gage on the car and cursed it for being perpetually pointing at the “C”. Next week would be Thanksgiving, and we were supposed to make our pilgrimage to Claremont. I really didn't think that was something we could do, not with Isidore as sick as she was. I'd have to call my mother and break that to her. I walked into my office, cold and cranky.

Ironically, I seemed to get more done when I was grumpy, and I paused close to noon to pat myself on my back for my productivity. There was a knock on my door and it was Dr. Peterson. I got up and welcomed him with the courtesy due to a department chair, and my boss. I'd requested a meeting with him to talk about Jason and Tom. He was a tough negotiator. In order to get both Tom and Jason on board I'd have to teach two classes next semester, when I was supposed to be on tap for one. I caved graciously to the inevitable, and our meeting had devolved into chit chat when the door flew open, literally, and slammed against the wall.

I looked up in intense irritation. Who would do such a thing, and worse, who would do such a thing when Dr. Peterson was in my office? I looked up to see Jeff standing there panting, looking horrified.

“I'm sorry to just barge in,” he said, and panted a few times.

“I should think so,” said Dr. Peterson. Jeff ignored him and headed toward my television and turned it on. “What exactly are you doing young man?”

“You have to watch this,” he said, and I saw that he had tears in his eyes. I walked over to the television and waited for it to warm up. The screen blinked and flickered to life, but the sound came through loud and clear. “We come to you live from Dallas where President Kennedy has been shot.” I stood staring at the television, while the world around me was falling apart.

One of the secretaries, Julie, had peeked in to see what all the commotion was all about. She saw the news and shrieked. That brought the other secretaries, and soon my office was filled with people. The secretaries were followed by the T.A.s and student workers, and finally, there was enough commotion to attract the faculty members. It was illustrative of the shock they felt that none of the staff or students yielded their place in front of the television to the faculty members, not even the senior ones. We all stood there and watched the reports, the only noise being quiet sobs. They'd whisked the President off to Parkland Hospital. We all silently prayed that he'd be alright. I cleared my head long enough to take in the scene, my office packed full of people sitting on edge, waiting, praying that the President would be OK.

And then came the news, the horrible news, that the President was dead. The President of the United States, the partner in Camelot, our young, smart, charming President, shot dead in Dallas. The stun wore off and people started crying. We all did. Peterson had tears on his cheek, so did I. It was horrible. I hugged secretaries, students, anyone I could try to comfort, not thinking, not feeling, just numb. I looked at Jeff with appreciation in my eyes, thanking him silently for running over here to tell me and to be with me, and thanking him for being here giving me the strength to be strong with all these other people.

I grabbed my keys, said goodbye to Peterson, and we walked out to my car. I didn't feel the cold. One of my students stopped me and asked me what was wrong. “The President's been shot and killed,” I said, not waiting for the impact to hit on him, just moving deliberately to my car. I looked at Jeff and gave him the keys. “You mind driving?” I asked. I wasn't really focusing well. He nodded.

We didn't talk on the drive home, we didn't have to. We'd gotten to the point where we could read each other without words. I reached out and put my hand on his, the hand that was poised on the gear shift, and lovingly caressed it. We took the elevator up to the condo, and headed straight into the living room and turned the television on. I looked at Jeff and saw the tears running down his cheeks, this from a guy who rarely cried, and found myself unable to hold my own tears back either.

How could this happen? Why would someone do this? Who did it? Was this a prelude to war? I found myself looking out my windows for the telltale mushroom clouds we'd feared just a year ago. I composed myself but it was too late. Betty came into the living room to see what was going on, wondering why I was home at this time of the day and why the television was turned on and the volume was up so high. She stopped, horror-struck, and just stared at the television with me. There was the First Lady, so charming, so elegant, even with pieces of her husband's brain on her jacket, trying to grapple with the death of her husband. Betty started sobbing, and that brought a miserable Isidore into the room. She was devastated too, even though still a Frenchwoman at heart. But Kennedy was a universal icon, a world icon. After a while, the tears stopped. We could go on crying no more. We just sat and watched the news. Even when there wasn't any. Even when they just said then same things over and over again.

There was Lyndon Johnson. What kind of President would he be? He was a southerner. What did this mean for the poor Negroes? Did he agree with the President's policies? Ex-President, I reminded myself. We gathered in the living room with quilts and blankets, camping on the couches, watching the news. Jeff and I took the biggest couch, and he lay behind me wrapping his arms around me like he'd done so many times before, comforting me with his love, his warmth, and his presence. I felt guilty for being happy that he was there when the news was so horrible.

Jason came out of his room and wandered in, staring transfixed at the television. I was really worried about him, wondering about how he would handle such a shock in his fragile state. I was wrestling with whether or not I should leave my teddy bear to help him out, and unfortunately for him, he was losing the battle, when Isidore patted the couch next to her. Jason cautiously sat next to her and she put her arm around him and leaned on his shoulder. He responded to her, to her soft touch and her need for comfort. This wasn't the Jason stalking her or the Isidore fending him off. This was a Jason that was more like a lost little boy, and an Isidore that was a mother reaching out to her child for mutual support.

Stefan arrived next with Tom and they grabbed the one last empty couch in the room and slid it over closer to the television. We sat there hanging out watching the television, with occasional tears. There were new photos now, photos of the casket being taken to the airport, of the new President being sworn in. And there was news as well. Some fucking idiot named Lee Harvey Oswald was arrested; he had apparently even resisted the arrest, shooting at a police officer. It would be the chair for him for sure.

The world is going to hell, the President is dead and war may be on the horizon. But as I looked around the room, I realized what a lucky man I was. It was a Norman Rockwell moment. There was Stefan on the couch snuggled up against Tom. The two of them were good together. Stefan seemed to give Tom a spine, and Tom seemed to slow Stefan down a bit, to make him stop and smell the roses.

On the other couch sprawled Isidore, miserable but happy, the wife I never planned to have but who had become one of my best friends anyway. And she was growing daily, growing herself and growing our family. Next to her sat Betty, the indomitable Betty, holding Ace happily. Ace, the apple of my eye, the one person I’d willingly give my life for without even a thought. Even Jason, sitting on the other side of her, seemed almost his old self. A Jason who had exorcised his demons was a man with a lot of potential. He'd find that woman to make him happy now. And he'd get his career on track.

And behind me with his arms wrapped around me was my soul mate, the love of my life. I leaned back into him and he nuzzled my neck in response. What a lucky guy I was. How many people go through life and never meet that one person they can totally connect with? How many people spend their days in virtual loneliness, fighting their battles all alone? Not me. I was lucky. We'd been through the crucible, and each of our crises, whether it was our parents, Carol, the physical separation we endured, the Freshman crunch, or Willie Jackson, had honed our relationship like a fine quality steel, with the strength to endure and the flexibility to bend. Jeff had left me and come back, and through the process he seemed more mature now, more grounded. His arms wrapped around me tighter and I knew that he was reading my mind, and biggest surprise of all, that made me smile.

I gazed across the room where Andre's statue stared at me. That statue that so perfectly captured his fun, cheerful expression seemed to come to life and wink at me. I knew that wherever Andre's soul was, he’d be happy for me. He'd be happy that I found love. Finally.

FIN