Merry Christmas Steven - 1. Chapter 1

Steve Fulton looked at the fifteen year old boy looking back at him in his bathroom mirror and wondered if he was still cute. His unruly mop of mostly curly, black hair certainly endeared him to his two aunts and a couple great aunts, but would it attract someone to love him? He felt his eyes were too close together and the two black caterpillars crawling across his forehead certainly couldn’t be counted as assets. His nose was pert (his mother’s word). His lips were too thin, but then he didn’t really like people with full lips, either. They reminded him of those hideous wax lips. His face was long and narrow, but at least his overbite had been corrected so kids could no longer call him Bugs Bunny.

He rubbed the acne medicine onto the few blemishes on his forehead while thanking god for not giving him his father’s bad skin. Not, that he could, since Steve was adopted and didn’t know who his real parents were. He rubbed his fingers over his chin and around his lips feeling a little stubble, but nothing that mattered since he didn’t expect to be kissing anyone tonight, least of all Benedict Jameson.

Who would name their son Benedict? Well, the Jameson’s did, that was for certain. Steve had two words for Benedict: Dick Head. Loser came to mind too, but Dick Head was more to his liking. He couldn’t stand the kid, not that he’d ever met him. They were the same age, but Dick Head went to St. Xavier’s Preparatory Academy, while Steve was stuck at North Park High, his father’s, grandfather’s, and great-grandfather’s alma mater.

“You have a tradition to hold up Steven,” his father said when Steve broached to idea of being able to go to St. Xavier’s. “Besides, you don’t need to go to St. Xavier’s to go to North Park College.” That was the other tradition Steve had to follow. His grandfather was on the board at North Park College and his father would, in all likelihood, take that seat the old man retired. All Fulton offspring attended North Park College. It was a tradition.

Steve walked out of his bathroom and into his bedroom. Ordered disarray might be a good description of the room. Neat and tidy with psychic tension might be a better description. Everything seemed to be in a place of its own, but whether everything was in its proper place was the correct question. His mother was always trying to put things in order, while Steve came in behind her and moved things about. It was a game, actually. A game that was slowly ending as Steve took more and more responsibility for his own life and his mother diminished her unescorted visits to his domain.

He didn’t want to go to the party tonight. He’d already spoken to his parents about it. He’d lost the debate. He was going and his was to behave. Benedict was going to be the only teenager there and Steven was to keep him company. It was the Jameson’s neighborhood Christmas party. If you lived anywhere near Mallard Lake, it was almost socially devastating not to receive an invitation to the party. They’d received one every year, but were always at his Aunt Adele’s Christmas party and family came before local society. This year Aunt Adele was recovering from a mastectomy and no one else in the family wanted to pick up the ball. So, Steve had to go keep Dick Head company.

He slowly put on his clothes, trying to delay the inevitable. He hadn’t thought of doing anything drastic because drastic measures always brought disastrous results, like removal of his laptop, which wasn’t sitting on his desk, but was squirreled away in his closet in a meager attempt to keep it hidden from his father. He knew it wouldn’t work, but he’d try anything to keep his unfettered access to the internet. If he broke a major home rule, the laptop was the first thing to disappear.

“Write your report in cursive,” his father would say. “You need the practice anyway.”

“But, it’s ten pages long,” Steve would whine.

“You should have thought about that before sassing your mother.”

He’d write his report. Turn it in amid jeers from his classmates. Show his father the A grade and get the laptop back. Steve wasn’t a bad kid, but his mouth worked faster than his mind and got him into more trouble than he wanted. He hadn’t yet learned the fine art of keeping quiet. He was close, but it was still a bit of a struggle not to seal his lips.

The speakers for his stereo were not in his room. They were in the closet in his father’s study. It was easier to remove the speakers than the entire system. They were returning after Christmas. Thirty days without music for letting the F word slip out during Sunday dinner with Pastor Arnold and his lovely wife. Steve thought it was an appropriate adjective for the story he was telling. Obviously, it wasn’t.

“Are you ready, yet?” His mother called from the hall.

“I’ll be down in a second,” Steve yelled. He was mad, but he’d lost the fight.

They weren’t the first to arrive at the party, so they had to park on East Lakeview Drive, nearly a full block from the Jameson home and only three blocks from their driveway. They could’ve walked. Steve told his parents they should’ve walked, but high heels are not snowshoes and there was six inches of snow on the ground from last night’s storm. At least the Jameson driveway had been plowed. All of the big houses on Mallard Lake, like the Jameson’s and their own, had long driveways down to the house on the lake. Two of the estates on the lake had been subdivided when the houses burned and the families didn’t rebuild. When a subdivided estate is worth hundreds of thousands more than a whole estate, money usually wins, especially when an extra couple hundred thousand just might be enough to buy one of the old, more prestigious, estates up on Foundry Ridge.

The Jameson house was brightly lit with strings of multicolored Christmas lights draped over the gutters, around the window and door frames, in and through the branches of most of the shrubs, and even along the walk leading up to the entry door, which was actually the backdoor. The fronts of all the houses on Mallard Lake faced the lake and most of the entry doors led into the back of the house.

Christmas music from speakers hung from the soffit near the door softly filled the air around the house supposedly to put everyone in a holiday spirit. Steve was in no mood for holiday cheer. When Dick Head opened the door to welcome them, Steve’s mood went from sour and totally disgusted.

“Merry Christmas and welcome to our home,” Dick Head said, stepping back and holding the door. “Allow me to take your coats and jackets.”

Too syrupy, thought Steve. Just like a St. Xavier brat.

“Oh, hi, Steve, nice to meet you,” Dick Head said, holding out his hand.

“Shake his hand,” his father hissed while grabbing Steve’s neck in a painful death grip.

Steve scrunched away from the pain radiating down his shoulders and extended his hand. Dick Head’s grip was firm and dry. Steve hoped his was just as impressive. Dick Head was almost as tall as Steve and similarly structured, they were both long distance runners. His straight, blond hair was spiked and immediately reminded Steve of a hedgehog, but he wisely kept his mouth shut. His face was Nordic in appearance with light, thin eyebrows, green eyes, a pudgy nose, and sparse lips. Last summer’s tan hadn’t fully faded.

“Oh, there you are, Natalie,” Dick Head’s mother called out as she came towards the door. She was a frequent visitor to the Fulton home as she and Steve’s mother seemed to work on the same charitable projects. She and his mother lightly kissed each other’s cheek.

“Merry Christmas, Susan,” Natalie said.

“Merry Christmas, Susan,” Steve’s father said, taking her hand in his.

“The men are down in the billiard room, David,” Susan said. “Steven, how nice of you to come.”

“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Jameson,” Steve said, trying to sound nice and polite. It was hard with Dick Head standing so close.

“Ben, why don’t you take Steven up to your room, I’m sure you boys aren’t interested in what the little kids are doing.”

“Okay, Momma,” Dick Head said. “Come on, Steven, I’ll show you my aerie.”

“Steve.”

“What?”

“Only my mother and father call me Steven.”

“Yeah, I understand. Boy, do I understand. With a handle like Benedict Nathaniel, I respond a lot better to just Ben. By the way, you did pretty good in the City Championship. I saw you out with the front pack nearly the whole race.”

“Yeah, I can’t complain coming in sixth. It was my best all year. Certainly didn’t help that no one else from North Park broke the top fifty.”

“Yeah, that sucks. We had three in the top twenty, but not enough to beat Roosevelt. Where do they get all those distance runners?”

“How much further up do we have to go?” Steve asked as they reached the third floor.

“In through here,” Ben said, opening a door that led into a neat and tidy teenage boy’s room. There were posters of soccer players on the wall. Steve looked at the muscular thighs and felt a slight tinge in his groin.

“What position do you play?” Steve asked.

“Oh, I don’t play soccer. I don’t play in the rain. It’s bad enough having to run in the shit.”

“Tell me about it,” Steve said as he wondered why someone who didn’t play the game would have posters of half naked, very muscular men on his wall. Well, there was a reason, but Steve didn’t want to think about that reason. No need in jumping to any conclusions that might get him socked in the face by a stuck up brat from St. Xavier’s.

“Come on, let me show you something special,” Ben said. He walked over to a spiral staircase and started up. “I call this my aerie.”

“My Uncle Jerry called it the pilot house,” Steve said, following Ben up the staircase and catching himself watching the other boy’s ass.

“You’ve been here?”

“Yeah, you guys bought this from my Grandpa and Gram Fulton,” Steve said. “I didn’t get to come up here all that often since the bedroom was Uncle Jerry’s, but, yeah, I’ve been here. Wow! What have you done to this place?”

“Pretty neat, huh?”

The space wasn’t much more than nine feet on each side, but the floor was covered with a plush, deep pile, silver green carpet. Beanbag chairs were strewn around the room and bright colored cushions covered the window seats.

“Watch this, I bet your Uncle Jerry didn’t have this when he was here,” Ben said, flipping a couple switches on the wall. The windows went opaque and the ceiling light went out. Four small light fixtures under the window spread a soft glow over the floor seemingly inviting Steve to flop down on one of the beanbags, which he did.

“Wow, I bet your girlfriend likes it up here,” Steve said as Ben moved a beanbag over close to him and sat on it.

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Ben said so blandly Steve couldn’t help thinking maybe Ben wasn’t such a dick head after all.

“Did you find the stash?” Steve asked.

“The what?”

“The hidden compartment in your closet.”

“There’s no hidden compartment in my closet.”

“Did you look for it? Or, did your parents remodel your room?”

“They didn’t do anything to my closet.”

“Well, then it must still be there. Let’s go see.”

Steve got to his feet and waited for Ben who seemed reluctant to go back down to his room. Finally shrugging his shoulders, Ben stood up and went to the staircase.

“You sure it was in this room?” Ben asked. “Don’t tell me a treasure map was hidden in there.”

“No, it was where my Uncle Jerry hid his porn magazines.”

“When were you here last? I mean we’ve been in this house since I was eight, so it’s been awhile. Did you ever see any of this porn?”

“Nah, my cousin Harry told me about it. He’s like five years older than me.”

“That’d be your Uncle Jerry’s son?”

“No, my Uncle Jerry’s never been married. Heck, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him with a woman. Oh, shit, that’s right, I’ve never seen Uncle Jerry with a woman, ever.”

“Maybe he’s gay?”

“Yeah, that might explain a lot of things.”

“Then this porn might not be what we’re exactly expecting.”

“Maybe not, but if the compartment’s still there, maybe you can hide your porn there.”

“I don’t need a hidden compartment. I have internet access and a zip drive.”

“Okay, where is it?” Ben asked as he opened his closet door.

Steve looked at the floor of the closet. Other than a small space at the door, the floor was covered with clothes, shoes, boots, and boxes. He looked back at the rest of the room and surmised this was Ben’s hidden mess. Sort of like sweeping dirt under a carpet, Ben must toss his mess into the closet. Steve got down on his knees and started moving things out of the way to get to the back wall.

“Oh, fuck!” Steve exclaimed, jumping back out of the closet.

“What’s wrong?” Ben asked leaning in to look in the closet. “Oh, the spider, I wondered where she’d gone. Come on little girl, time to become a snowflake.”

Steve backed away from the closet as Ben bent down and picked up the big, black spider. He opened his window and tossed it out into the cold, night air.

“Fly little birdie, fly away,” Ben said. He turned around and stared at Steve. “Don’t like spiders?”

“No.”

“Want me to clear out my closet?”

“If you don’t mind, I think the compartment is in the back right corner.”

“No problem. Oh, by the way, if we ever get to be friends, which I doubt, but if we do, I don’t like bees. Okay?”

“Sure, I’ll try to remember that,” Steve said thinking Ben just might be a dick head after all.

He watched Ben clear out the back corner and only when he felt certain there were no more spiders lurking back there that might jump out on him, he got down on his knees and crawled in beside Ben. In addition to the short piece of molding that hid the latch to the compartment, Steve noticed up close he could smell a sweet aroma around Ben. It made his groin tingle with excitement. Few boys he’d ever known did this to him. He glanced over at Ben and saw the other boy staring at him.

“What?” Steve asked.

“Uh, aren’t you going to look for the compartment?” Ben asked, averting his eyes.

“Sure, it should be here under this piece of molding.”

“That must be an awfully small compartment.”

“No, this is where the handle is supposed to be hidden,” Steve said as he carefully pulled out the piece of molding. There was a string attached to the bottom that pulled up a metal ring about two inches in diameter. There was a thicker cord attached to the ring. He pulled it taut and saw some of the boards in the floor moved slightly. He tugged on the ring, but the boards wouldn’t come away from the floor.

“Damn, it must be painted closed,” Steve said. He hit the floor in frustration and the boards moved a little toward the wall. He pulled on the ring, again, and the board came up.

“Wow! You were right,” Ben said, placing his hand on Steve’s shoulder and looking down into the hole in the floor.

Their faces were inches apart and Steve wanted very much to get out of the closet. Ben’s hand on his shoulder was sending confusing signals to his brain that was, in turn, sending confusing signals to his groin.

“There’s something down here,” Steve said, reaching down and pulling out a large metal box that looked very much like a tool box. He dropped it and scrambled back out of the closet when another big, black spider crawled on top of the box.

Steve was still shaking when Ben came out of the closet with the metal box, sans spider. Ben sat down beside him with the box between them. Steve stood up.

“Think there might be a spider in the box?” Ben asked.

“They’re devious little devils who’ll do anything to get at you,” Steve said from over by the desk.

“Oh, shit!” Ben exclaimed when he opened the box.

Warily, Steve walked over to the bed. Ben looked up with a face Steve had seen before. It was the face of someone whose secret was about to be revealed to the world, a secret so horrible it had to be kept from everyone, especially the parents.

He sat down next to Ben, on the side opposite the metal box. He followed Ben’s eyes into the box and saw the cover of a faded glossy magazine. Two naked men were locked together in a tight embrace, their erections pushed together between their sweaty bodies. He swallowed as a familiar feeling swept through his groin, quickly stiffening him. He glanced down at Ben’s crotch and saw the unmistakable bulge of an erection.

He watched Ben pull out the magazine and both of their eyes immediately went to the next magazine cover that showed two younger men, not much older than themselves, wrapped in a similar pose. Steve swallowed and looked at Ben. Their eyes met and Steve saw the fear, again. He tried to smile, or, at least he felt his lips moving like he was trying to smile. He watched Ben’s hand move down to the bulge in his khakis and the fingers spread around it, giving more definition to the length and breadth of the hidden object.

Tentatively, Steve put his hand on Ben’s shoulder and moved slightly closer to the other boy. Their thighs were barely touching. Their eyes were glued to the open magazine in Ben’s lap. The two men had each other’s cock in their mouths. One hand his hand on the other’s ass with the middle finger quite obviously sunk deep inside. Steve felt his own hand begin to massage the firmness in the slacks, while he felt the other hand softly caressing Ben’s neck.

Suddenly, Steve broke away from the other boy and went over and sat on the chair at the desk. Ben stared at him, but he couldn’t go back there. He wasn’t going to get caught in this, again. Once was enough for him. He wasn’t going to let Ben lead him on, only to throw it back into his face.

“I’m sorry, maybe this was the wrong idea,” Steve said. “Maybe, I’d better go downstairs.”

“No, wait, please,” Ben said. He stood up and his erection pressed out against the loose cloth of his khakis. “I won’t say anything, but please don’t go. No one has to know, okay? No one. Just don’t leave me like this. Look, I’ll put the porn back in the box. Okay? No one knows about me.”

Steve stared at the scared boy who’d been caught with his hand in the candy jar. He wanted to stand up and hold him, assure him everything was okay, but still he suspected a trick. As soon as he let his guard down, Ben was going to lash out at him, throwing his advance back at him, grinding him into the dirt of disgust. He watched Ben put the magazine back into the box and put the box back in the closet. Then Ben came over and knelt down in front of Steve.

“No one knows about me, okay?” Ben said. Tears were in his eyes. “Please don’t say anything. No one can know about me. I’ll do anything. Do you want money? I’ll pay. Whatever it takes, but please don’t tell anyone.”

Steve watched Ben take out his wallet. He opened it and took out a couple fifties. He thought to himself, ‘We’re as rich as his family and I don’t have fifties in my wallet.’

“Here, I’ll give you my Christmas money,” Ben said, holding the bills out to Steve. “I’ll say I got mugged, or something, but please don’t tell anyone. Here take the money.”

“I don’t want your money,” Steve said. He didn’t want to say anything, but knew he had to. Ben was scared his world was going to collapse around him, that everything he held dear was going to be taken away. He had to help. “It’s okay, Ben, don’t worry. I won’t say anything to anyone. Ben, I’m gay, too.”

“Do you mean your parents know?” Ben asked. They were sitting on his bed, again, sitting as close, if not closer, than before. Steve’s hand was back on Ben’s shoulder.

“Yeah, I came out to my mother last spring when I was outed in my history class,” Steve said. “A boy I knew, who I thought I knew, tricked me into going down on him. I never got him in my mouth, but he let everyone know the next morning in class. He was suspended for two days because he interrupted the class, but the damage was done. The only saving grace was that I was the best ten thousand meter runner at North Park and already had a letterman’s jacket for cross country. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be, but, yeah, I told my mother. Do you know what she said?”

“No, what?”

“Well, yes, Steven, I’ve known that for years. Your father knows, too. We were just wondering when you were going to admit it to yourself.”

“Wow! My parents will kill me if they find out. I’ll probably be packed off to some Christian brainwashing camp or something.”

“You’d be surprised. They’ll probably say the same thing.”

“No, you don’t know my parents. They won’t like this. So, you’ve done it, then?”

“No, I’ve never even kissed another guy. You’re the first boy I’ve come across who’s admitted to me he’s gay. I suppose there are other boys at North Park. With that many students, you have to figure there are at least ten of us. Of course, some of them are girls, but who wants to hang out with a lesbian.”

“Eww! That sounds disgusting. So, do you, like, you know, want to become friends and, well, maybe we could, you know, like, uh, get to know each other, more, you know.”

“I couldn’t have said it better myself. Yeah, I’d like to get to know you, better.”

“So, uh, what do we do know?” Ben asked.

Steve could think of a lot of things to do, but getting to know this other boy who, up until a couple hours ago, he hated more than anything in the world; well, maybe not as much as spiders, but close. What does one do to get to know someone better, someone you might be interested in getting to know intimately?

“What’s your favorite flavor of ice cream?” Steve asked.

“What is this ‘Twenty Questions’?” Ben asked.

“No, I’m just curious. I mean besides being afraid of bees.”

“I’m not afraid of bees. I just don’t like them.”

“Okay, you don’t like bees. You don’t like running in the rain. So, what kind of ice cream do you like?”

“Black walnut.”

“Black walnut? Eww! That’s gross.”

“No it’s not. I like walnuts. What kind of nuts do you like?”

“Well, since I haven’t gotten to know yours, ow! Hey, what’s with the poke in the ribs?”

“You’re talking dirty. I know your type. You’re just trying to get my guard down so you can get me naked and do wicked and nasty things to my body.”

“Yeah, I’d like that, but you have to go first. It’s only fair, it’s your house.”

“We can’t do anything here,” Ben whispered. He shrugged out from under Steve’s hand and stood up. “We can’t do it here.”

“Then we can go over to my house,” Steve said as he stood up. He walked over and took Ben in his arms. Having never done this before, it felt kind of good holding another boy close to him.

Ben quickly broke out of their embrace when someone knocked on his bedroom door.

“What?” He stammered.

“Can we come in?” Ben’s mother asked.

“Oh, god, what are we going to do?” Ben whispered.

“Act normal, we haven’t done anything,” Steve whispered.

“But, she’ll know, she always knows,” Ben whispered. There were tears in his eyes and Steve took him in his arms, again. Ben struggled to get away, but Steve held on.

“Come on in,” Steve said.

It was their mothers. Ben’s mother took him away from Steve and wrapped her son in a tight embrace. Steve looked questioningly at his mother, but she just put a finger to her lips telling him to be quiet. He felt awkward watching Ben’s mother comfort him, as if it was some secret family practice that wasn’t meant to be seen by outsiders. Ben was quietly weeping and his mother was shushing him with barely audible whispers. Steve went over to his mother, who put an arm around his back pulling him against her.

After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably not much more than a few minutes, Ben quieted down and his mother released him from her embrace.

“I want to apologize to you boys, but especially to you, Ben,” his mother said. She smiled at Steve and his mother pulled him closer. “I’m afraid all of this was a setup.”

Steve looked at his mother and she just smiled, that motherly, I’m not as dumb as you think, smile.

“Are you and Ben friends, now?” Steve’s mother asked.

“Yeah, sort of,” Steve said. Ben was staring at him with deer in headlight eyes, imperceptibly shaking his head.

“Well, that was our intent,” Ben’s mother said. She took both of her son’s hands in hers and said, “Ben, of all my children, you’re the most dear to me, but I can’t see you suffer any longer.”

“Oh, god, you know,” Ben said, hanging his head down. “I’m sorry, I’ll do whatever you want to fix it, you don’t have worry. Steve and I, we didn’t.”

“Ben, hush, it’s okay, everything’s alright,” his mother said. “Natalie, could you and Steven leave us for a moment? I think Ben doesn’t quite understand.”

“Sure thing, Susan. Come on, stud, let’s go get some eggnog.”

Steve looked incredulously at his mother, but followed her out the door. She was going to have a lot of explaining to do and it was going to have to start before they got downstairs.

“Wait at minute, please,” he said. “What’s going on?”

“Natalie knows Ben is gay and asked me to bring you over here tonight so you two could get to know one another.”

“What are you, my pimp?”

“Don’t talk nasty like that, I’m your mother. Ben needed your help and we were only trying to do what’s right.”

“Well, nobody did anything to help me.”

“That’s because you didn’t need our help. Ben is, well, he’s special.”

“What do you mean?”

“He nearly died as a baby and he means a lot to his parents.”

“He’s not sick now, is he?”

“No, but they want what’s right for him. Are you going to be his, uh, friend?”

“Yeah, probably, if we get a chance to get to know one another. I know he’s scared to death about his parents knowing.”

“Well, they know and nothing is going to happen.”

“Okay, you two, my boy’s okay,” Ben’s mother said coming out of his room. “You can have him back, Steven.”

“Uh, okay,” Steve said.

Ben was sitting on his bed and looked like he’d been told the girl was pregnant and he was going to have to marry her. Steve went over and sat down beside him. He put his hand back on Ben’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have come over if I’d known what they were up to,” Steve said. He knew he wouldn’t, even though he was now glad he did.

“What flavor do you like?” Ben asked.

“Chocolate mint.”

“My mother said we should go over to your house. She said I should probably spend the night. I guess your mother said that would be okay. I still can’t believe they know and it’s okay with them”

“I asked my mother if she was my pimp.”

“You didn’t?”

“Yeah, I thought she was going to hit me. So, do we become friends first, or do we move right into sex.”

“I think I’d like to get to know you a little better,” Ben said. He turned to Steve and their lips met for a moment.

“I think we’re going to have to practice that a little more,” Steve said.

“Yeah, I think so, too. Let me pack my bag. Do you think I’ll need pajamas?”

“I usually sleep in a pair of boxers, but if you want pajamas, I think I might be able to find a pair.”

Steve leaned in toward Ben and their lips met once more. They stayed for a little longer this time.

“Yeah, that was better,” Ben said. “I’ll bring an extra pair of pajamas, we’re about the same size. Then if you want you can put them on; or, well, you know, maybe you’ll convince me to sleep in my boxers.”

“Whatever you think is right is okay with me.”

Ben stood and went to his closet. He brought out a knapsack and started putting clothes into it. Steve watched him as he went about his room wishing he’d shaved before coming over. He’d definitely have to shave before they climbed into his bed.

The End