Chronicles Of An Academic Predator - 45. Chapter 45

 

July 25, 1963

       

It had been a hellatiously busy few days. Ever since the engagement was announced, we'd been working hard to put together a small ceremony, and to do it fast. We targeted Saturday, July 27, and found an Episcopalian minister willing to stop by and handle the officiating. Tonto had immediately taken charge of the event, and my mother and Isidore were filling in the details. They were having fun with their part of it. I was not. It was my job to get all the legal aspects of the marriage organized.

 

There were two main obstacles. The first was getting the marriage license. I was worried that would be a problem, but suddenly some life was breathed back into Barry and he got that done. I'd forgotten, like an idiot, that he was a judge and had friends all over the place. The second part was the prenuptial agreement and the adoption papers. We'd gotten an attorney for Isidore on Tuesday, and he and Aaron were still arguing over the details. Isidore and I weren't really even involved; it was just the lawyers. That was good, that way we wouldn't have any hard feelings about all of this shit. But that had to be in place by Saturday or we couldn't tie the knot. It was frustrating, very frustrating.

 

And now, with incredible timing, I was waiting for the delivery men to bring the completed statue of Andre over. I was standing by the elevator gazing at the huge expanse of the living and dining room, trying to figure out where to put it when Jeff almost bumped into me on his way out. He was headed to another practice.

 

“Hold up a minute,” I said, and he reluctantly gave me his attention. I stared at him long enough to make him understand this was a serious conversation.

 

“What?” he said impatiently.

 

“I just got a call. The delivery men are on their way over, bringing the statue we commissioned for Andre.” Now I had his attention. “I don't know what it will look like, but I wanted to talk to you before I decide where to put it.”

 

As usual, he read my mind. “You're worried that if you have a six foot marble statue of Andre standing right there,” he said, pointing at the middle of the floor, “that it will make me uncomfortable in our house. That it will make it seem like his ghost is here, haunting me. Is that pretty much it?”

 

I nodded at him gratefully. “Yeah, that's pretty much it.”

 

And then he shocked the shit out of me. “JP, Andre was a hero. He's someone we should be proud of. More importantly, he won your love, and he's Ace's father. I never met the guy, but I respect and admire him. I know you love me. I'm secure enough to handle this. Besides JP, he's dead. If you dump me for a guy that's dead, I've got bigger problems.”

 

I hugged him and gave him a big kiss. “I love you.”

 

He smiled back at me. “I love you too. Put the statue in a prominent place in this room, even if it's hideous, OK?” I nodded. “Now can I go to practice?” I let him pass.

 

About half an hour later, the door buzzed and the delivery men entered, struggling to maneuver the huge crate out of the elevator. “Where ya want this thing?” The lead delivery guy asked rudely.

 

“Over here,” I said, pointing to a prominent spot in the living room. “I'm sorry about the small elevator. But the good news is that you won't run into any more obstacles inside.” I was turning on the charm to try and make their moods better.

 

They humped the box over to where I wanted it. “OK,” the lead guy said. “We just need you to sign right here.” He shoved a clipboard at me.

 

“Aren't you guys going to unpack it and take this crate with you?” I asked. The crate was wood. It would be a pain in the ass to get it to the dumpster.

 

“Sorry, not part of our delivery. We drop off the box, we don't unpack it.” The guy seemed pleased that he was able to leave me in a lurch.

 

“I'm sorry, I didn't realize that. Would you guys be willing to do it for me anyway if I gave you $10?” I saw the lead guy get ready to refuse, but the other guy cut him off.

 

“Sure, we'll do that for you.” The other guy glared at him.

 

“Thanks guys. I'll be right back.” I headed off to the kitchen. When I came back, they had finished removing the statue from the crate and were just cleaning up all the packing. They turned it around to face me, and I almost fainted. It was stunning.

 

There was a stylized body, but it was as close to Andre's actual form as you could get. He was obviously in his uniform, and his Distinguished Service Cross was engraved on his chest. But it was his face that was dead on. It looked just like Andre. The kicker was his expression. You'd think with his uniform on, it would perhaps be the expression of a warrior, but it wasn't. The sculptor had perfectly captured Andre's pride, the pride he felt at serving his country, while also incorporating the fun cheerfulness that was his trademark. I just stood there and gazed.

 

The delivery men got ready to leave and I gave them the $10 along with some mumbled thanks. I couldn't stop staring at it. I felt like Andre was here in this room with us, but not in a sad way, in a happy way. A way designed to celebrate his life. What a great idea Tonto had! I hurried to my room and got a sheet and draped it over the statue.

 

“Betty,” I said, tracking her down, “I'm going to run some errands. Anyone touches that sheet I want to know about it so I can throw them off the balcony.”

 

“Sure thing JP,” she said.

       

I had discovered the other night that I was woefully short of glasses, particularly Champagne flutes. Isidore had already picked out china patterns, and all that shit, but we need Champagne flutes. So two hours later I came staggering into the house, weighted down by the 25 crystal flutes I'd bought. I gave them to Betty to shine up for tonight, while I went back down to the garage to drag the Champagne up.

 

That night, after dinner, I asked everyone to come into the living room. Once they were there I dramatically removed the sheet and revealed Andre's statue. My mother gasped, as did Isidore. Tonto smiled with pride at her organizational handiwork, while all the guys just nodded. I felt like a high priest, but I wanted to do this right, my last chance to honor Andre. I left briefly and returned carrying the urn with Andre's ashes. I thought it somewhat ironic that just this July 5 the Catholic Church (of which Andre was theoretically a member) had approved cremation as an acceptable funeral practice, so I was spared the charge of heresy, at least on this count. There was a compartment in the back of the statue, right where Andre's heart would have been. It had a panel that went in over it, and by inspecting it, I discerned that the sculptor had intended that once in place it would be difficult to remove. I placed the ashes in the statue and closed the door. “Rest in peace Andre,” I said, holding back tears.

 

“Rest in peace,” everyone else mumbled. Then I handed out the Champagne and raised my glass in a toast.

 

“I have mourned these past seven or more months for the loss of my dear friend, and I know you all have too. But Andre's charm and happy personality was his trademark, and I think the sculptor captured that perfectly. So let us drink a toast to him and all the happy moments that he brought into our lives, and promise that, going forward, those will be the memories we retain.” We all lifted our glasses and toasted, and then everyone else took a closer look at the statue.

 

Jeff came up and put his arm around me. “Way to go tiger. This turned out to be a great memorial.”

 

       

 

July 27, 1963

 

Wedding Day. It's a miracle that it was actually going to happen, but the lawyers had finished arguing yesterday and Isidore and I had duly signed off on the agreements. On Monday, the adoption process would begin, and then, after it wound its way through the court system, Ace would officially be my son. I was nervous, Jeff was excited. “I can't wait for tonight,” he said with a leer. I just shook my head, but I was kind of excited about it too.

 

Tonto had organized everything perfectly. There were so many fragrant flowers it was almost too much. Almost. Despite the small crowd and intimate surroundings, the ladies had gotten together a cake, decorations, and all the other stuff you need for nuptials. Isidore wore a beautiful white dress, not a formal wedding dress, but just as classy, while I wore my black dinner jacket.

 

The wedding was set to begin at 5PM, with a catered dinner to follow. I was ready by 3PM to welcome the guests that Tonto had managed to track down. The first arrivals were a complete surprise. Abe and Vella made the trip just to be here.

 

“Can't have you runnin' off getting married without seeing it. Besides, I gotta make sure I'm here to knock your head if you get cold feet.” Vella was hysterical. She and Betty hadn't seen each other for years, so soon they were off chatting, with Abe looking for a place to hang out and get some peace.

 

Next to arrive was an even bigger surprise. My brother and sister-in-law, without their kids, but with Bill Hendrickson and his wife. I hugged them all. “Thanks for coming! I didn't expect you to come. This is just the best present!” I was really flattered that they'd driven down.

 

Bill Hendrickson cornered me alone a little later. “Now JP, after our last discussion, this is a bit of a surprise.”

 

I laughed. “Yeah, you should have seen my father's face. It's a marriage of convenience. Isidore needs an American husband to stay in the country. My friend Andre, the one killed in Vietnam, was the father of her baby, and I want her to raise him here.”

 

He nodded and smiled. He'd filled in the blanks without any more help from me. He leaned in and whispered in my ear, “But I may end up with those grandkids after all.”

 

The ceremony went off without a hitch. Not that there was much to screw up. Jeff once again made the ceremony special by surprising us with a wedding hymn. I keep forgetting how beautiful his voice is. And he made it extra special by singing it in both English and French. Once the ceremony was over, we had a catered reception in the rec room.

 

Tonto had managed to invite some of the faculty members, Drs. Peterson, Adams, Broughton, and their wives. Dr. Adams' wife was a really pretty lady. She came up to speak to Isidore and me after the ceremony. “You have such a lovely place. It was so nice of you to invite us over. We will have to return the favor.”

 

Adams chimed in. “Yeah, like they wanna come over and hang out in our hovel.”

 

Isidore turned her big smile on both of them. “You have spaces like this to impress people you don't really like. For the people you like, the surroundings make no difference. I would love to come visit your home.” She said it in perfect English with perfect inflections. Wow. Was she ever smooth.

 

As the evening went on, I found myself getting tired, tired of answering questions about how we met, tired of talking about how cool my condo was, tired of talking about Ace while gingerly dodging the issue of who his father was. In the end, I decided that after this week of stress, I would do something I usually didn't allow myself to do. I got drunk, really drunk. I ignored the dirty looks I got from my parents, and had a blast.

 

I'm not a violent drunk. Jeff can get ugly when he drinks too much, but I'm not like that. I get happy, clumsy, then I either puke or pass out or both. I remember dancing to records that Sammy put on the stereo, and I remember people laughing at me. I remember making some mushy and ridiculous speeches, and I remember Jeff intervening to make them sensible. I remember Jeff helping me to the bathroom so I could vomit my guts out, and taking off my clothes. I must have puked all over myself, because I remember him taking a shower with me.

 

The shower woke me up, and I realized that it was late, all the guests were gone, and that I was in bed with both Jeff and Isidore. Jeff and I were still drunk, so we were kind of goofy. We spread Isidore out like Christ on the cross and made her give us a tour of her body, showing us what spots really set her off, and what she didn't like. I discovered that I loved kissing her, and that I loved licking her breasts and sucking on her nipples. Playing with her pussy was a blast, especially watching her reaction. I loved fingering her clit, and I found her spot, the equivalent of the prostate, without too much probing. The one thing I couldn't bring myself to do was eat her out, but I didn't have to worry about that. Jeff really got into it.

 

Finally the play became serious and he used his tongue with a purpose while I moved up behind him and entered him gently. This really got him going, and he slid up to fuck her, temporarily popping my dick out of his ass. I knelt behind him and reinserted my dick firmly in his ass but I didn't move. I just kept steady while he took care of all the movement, and I watched his sexy ass as he pumped into Isidore. I couldn't tell if she was cumming because she'd been moaning and flailing her head from side to side for quite some time. Finally, I felt Jeff tense up and he shot his load inside her. After he finished pumping her full, he pulled out and guided my dick into her cunt. As I fucked her he kept his mouth next to ours, at one moment I was kissing him, the next minute I was kissing her. She continued to jerk and convulse wildly, and the whole thing was so exciting that, drunk and all, I managed to blast my load into her too. The three of us passed out after that, entangled with each other. It was a happy day.

 

The next day was not so happy. I had a major hangover. Still, I managed to perk up enough to say goodbye to everyone. By the early afternoon, I found myself standing in the living room with Betty, Jeff, and Isidore. I was about to remark on that but I had to preempt my comment to go puke again.

 

August 12, 1963

 

I sat in my study, such as it was, trying to work on my paper, but I was totally unmotivated. I was bored. Now that all the excitement was over, we'd all kind of retreated into our roles. Isidore had taken on the traditional role of managing the household, and fortunately she was diplomatic so she worked perfectly with Betty. She came in to fuck around with Jeff and me one or two times a week. I found that I looked forward to it because it spiced things up and Jeff seemed to really like it.

 

His willingness to eat her pussy had mystified me until last night. After we'd finished screwing Isidore, she decided to head back to her room. Jeff leaned in and kissed me. “Ewww. You taste like pussy,” I said, kind of joking, but not really.

 

“I know, it's nasty isn't it.”

 

“Wait a minute. You do it, but you hate the taste?” I was getting more confused.

 

“Yeah. You see her face when I go down on her, when I use my tongue to flick her clit? You see how hot she gets? The taste grosses me out, but giving her that much pleasure, making her lose her mind like that, more than offsets it.”

 

I felt like such an asshole. I wasn't willing to make that sacrifice to get her off. It was like the guy who wouldn't suck a dick but would give you a hand job. Jeff, again, read my mind. “Don't feel bad. You work wonders with your fingers. Different strokes for different folks.”

 

So now that I knew Jeff's cunnilingus secret, I felt better about the whole thing, ironic as that may seem. I figured that I was doing pretty fucking good, banging away at my wife, since she knew I was a total fag.

 

Yet all of these thoughts and introspections that I mulled had done nothing to further my progress. I was bored bored bored. I decided to go grab Stefan and go upstairs to swim. It was hot, and I hadn't spent much time with him lately. I was a little nervous about running into Jason, but I grew a pair and decided that I had nothing to worry about.

 

Stefan didn't answer the door, so I wandered in (using my key) and found him curled up in his bed, kind of dozing. The last time I'd seen him he seemed to have lost some of his élan, and now he looked totally depressed. Such a change for him.

 

“Hey Stefan! How're you doing?”

 

“OK,” he said, unenthusiastically.

 

“Grab your swimsuit and come up and hit the pool with me.”

 

He looked like he was about to agree, then he suddenly changed his mind. He had rolled over onto his stomach. “I don't feel like it today.”

 

I moved behind him and fondled his ass. “How about doing something else?” I said seductively. When I grabbed his ass, he flinched. There was something seriously wrong here.

 

I pulled down his pants, even though he grabbed them to try and stop me, but I could see the lacerations and bruises. I got pissed, really pissed. “You've been fucking around with Jason haven't you? And he's been beating you up.” I moved his shirt up and there were marks on his back too, and his wrists were raw from where the handcuffs rubbed them.

 

“I like it JP. I like it when he whips me and then fucks me. It turns me on. I can't help it.” I looked at him with total shock. I'd never expected him to be a masochist.

 

“Your body is too beautiful to be scarred. This is bullshit.”

 

Just then I heard a voice, Jason's voice. “This is none of your fucking business. Tell him that Stefan.”

 

Stefan looked at him with fear. “JP, I can do what I want in my bedroom. Please go.”

 

Jason glared at me. “If he doesn't leave now, I'll have to punish you,” he said, sneering at Stefan.

 

“Please JP, leave, leave me alone. I'm fine. It's my life and my body. You have no fucking right to get involved.”

 

He was right, even though every bone in my body told me to intervene; I felt it would be hypocritical. If Stefan liked getting tied up and whipped, who was I to stop it? The problem was, I didn't think he was really enjoying it. I think he was cowed and afraid.

 

“Stefan, I expect you upstairs at dinner tonight. 7PM. If you're not there, I'll come looking for you. For both of you.” I said, staring at Jason, face to face, nose to nose. Then I escaped back up to my own place with something entirely new to worry about.

 

I had fretted the rest of the day, and I sat down to dinner, antsy as hell. It was 7:15PM, and I was pissed, scared, and nervous, all at once.

 

Jeff finally got sick of my weirdness. “JP, what's wrong?” It's funny how just a question like that could cause me to spill my guts, and that's what I did. I told him all about my encounter with Stefan and Jason, and my threat if he missed dinner.

 

“He's beating Stefan? With a belt? That fucker!” And before I could stop him, Jeff was out of his chair and dashing down the stairs. I followed him as fast as I could, but he is a wide receiver after all. He got to Stefan's door and held out his hand. “Key,” he said. I'd never seen him that enraged. He unlocked the door and the chain was set. I heard Stefan screaming in the background and so did Jeff. He backed up and kicked the door in, knocking it off its hinges, and followed the noises into Jason's room.

 

Jason was standing there stark naked with his huge dick throbbing as he whipped Stefan with his big leather belt. He must have been working Stefan over all afternoon, because he was really bruised.

 

“No more, no more! Let me down!” Stefan screamed. Jason looked over and saw Jeff, or I should say the blur that was Jeff, he was moving so fast. He literally picked Jason up and threw him against the bathroom wall, which almost knocked him unconscious. He then grabbed the keys and undid Stefan, and looked at me with a terrifying look.

       

“You take Stefan into his room and get him cleaned up, then take him upstairs. Got it?!” I looked at Stefan and neither one of us was brave enough to argue. I took Stefan into his room and made him put on some boxers and his robe. That was all that he could handle. As I guided him out, we heard Jason shrieking in pain. I looked at Stefan, and we both walked into Jason's room to see what was happening.

 

Jeff had cuffed Jason just like he had cuffed Stefan, and was whipping the shit out of him. Only when Jason used the whip, he had held back a bit, choosing a longer term torture method. Jeff had no such qualms. He was ripping Jason's back up. We could see huge cuts where the belt had ripped the skin, and there was blood flowing, albeit slowly, from them. Stefan and I gasped. Jeff saw us and he was still unhinged. He dropped his pants.

 

“Come on over here boys. We're gonna fuck Jason. Three dicks up his ass.”

 

“No thanks,” I said. He turned on me, rage in his eyes, and I yelled at him. “Stefan has been through enough! Besides, your dick is big enough to do the trick.” And with that he moved up to Jason's ass, despite his squirming, and rammed his cock in with no lube and no foreplay. Jason shrieked. That must have hurt like hell. Stefan and I just stared, until I came out of my daze and dragged him upstairs to our rooms.

 

These men I'd let into my life were pretty fucked up and carried some nasty baggage. I was pretty sure that Jeff's reaction came from seeing his father beat up his brothers and mother, and himself too. Fred must have used a belt. He'd gone psycho when he'd seen it. Jason was probably dealing with the same shit, plus Stefan was an easy target for revenge against me.

 

Stefan didn't say anything, didn't seem to have any energy, any internal life. I took him into the shower with me and washed his beautiful body, making sure to clean out his wounds. It was the first time I was naked with Stefan when he didn't hit on me. He didn't even get hard. Then I helped him dry off and I was going to lead him to one of the guest rooms.

 

“NO!” he almost screamed. “Don't make me, don't let me be alone.” I understood and stopped him and guided him toward our bed. “Thanks JP. I promise I'll behave.”

 

“I'd rather you didn't,” I teased, and almost got a smile, but it was fleeting. I lay down with him and let him cuddle up against me. And then it started: the sobbing. It wasn't crying, it wasn't just tears, it was sobbing. I just tried to comfort him and became aware that Jeff was in the room looking at us.

 

“He won't bother you again Stefan. Ever.” Holy shit! Did he kill Jason?

 

“What did you do to him?” I demanded.

 

“After you left I fucked him a couple of times, whipped him some more, and then beat the shit out of him. I figured that I should leave for a bit and get a grip so I didn't kill him.”

 

“Good idea,” I said, wondering what kind of shape Jason was in. Stefan said nothing.

 

“Time to rid ourselves of that shithead. I'll be back in a little bit.” Before I could object, he was gone. I was going to run after Jeff, but I changed my mind. Fuck Jason. Stefan was way more important to me, and he needed me here, now.

 

“Will Jeff kill him?” he asked nervously. “I don't want him dead. I don't. I just want him gone.”

 

“Jeff won't kill him. He'll be a little sore, though.” I joked.

 

Stefan smiled at me. “Just a little sore?” The first sign of the old Stefan. I chuckled.

 

“You know, everyone else has gotten off tonight except me. Jeff got to fuck Jason so he'll be worn out, you got fucked, and here I am, left out.” He kissed me without passion and reached down and grabbed my dick, but without enthusiasm or feeling. “I'm teasing you Stefan. I'm just fine. But I'll take a rain check. As soon as you feel better, I'm fucking your brains out.” He grinned at me and then fell asleep in my arms. Once he was truly out and gently snoring, I disentangled myself and went off to find out what Jeff was doing.

 

I found Jeff on the balcony, drinking a whiskey on the rocks, looking disturbed. I made sure he heard me coming so I didn't scare him. As keyed up as he was he might have jumped up and off the balcony. I stood next to him and put my arm around him. He tried to pull away but I wouldn't let him, so he surrendered and leaned into me.

 

“Is he still alive?” I asked, genuinely wondering.

 

“Barely, that sonuvabitch. I got all of his stuff and put it in three boxes and tossed them off the balcony. Don't worry; I made sure no one else was down there. Then I tossed him out and into the elevator.”

 

“So what are you doing out here?” I asked.

 

He pointed to the beach. “Watching him try to find all his shit.” There was a limping Jason, trying to save what he could. I couldn't help but laugh, even though it was a macabre scene.

 

We went into the living room and he stopped me and hugged me, not with affection, but how someone hugs a life preserver. Two wounded boys on my hands, and no one to have sex with, I thought to myself mischievously. I led him to the bedroom. He stripped and climbed into bed, getting in the middle, with Stefan and me on either side. Stefan woke briefly and snuggled up to Jeff. There was no one like the teddy bear when you were hurting.

 

“I'm sorry I snapped like that,” Jeff said, after a lengthy period of silence.

 

I didn't believe that he was sorry, but I did think he wanted to talk about it. “What made you do it?”

 

“So many times I've seen my dad take his belt out of his pants and use it on me, or my brothers, or worst of all, my mother. He treats her like shit, beats her up, and she just puts up with it. No, it's worse than that. She defends him. One time I tried to stop him when he was beating her and she snuck up behind me and hit me in the head with a pan.” He was grappling with some serious issues, and I found time to marvel at how close we'd become; so close I could physically feel the ebb and flow of his various emotions.

 

“When I saw Jason beating up on someone I love, I guess all those memories just flooded back and he wasn't Jason, he was my dad.”

 

Stefan piped up. “You love me?”

 

Jeff looked at him, irritated. “Of course I love you, you dumb ass.” How romantic.

 

Stefan moved in with us after that. I hadn't gotten to spend that much time with him during the summer, so I was thrilled.

 

August 16, 1963

 

I woke up on Wednesday morning with Stefan's mouth on my dick. Jeff had already gotten up and headed off to practice, so it was just the two of us. I moved him off my cock, even though it felt so good, and pulled him into a kiss. In the past Stefan's kisses and caresses had been methodically perfect but without emotion. Not this time. This time, he was putting himself into it. He was giving me not just his body, but his love. He rubbed himself against me, driving me nuts.

 

“Stefan,” I murmured, “fuck me.” I handed him the Vaseline and he looked nervous. I did what Jeff does to me. “Come on Stefan, I love getting fucked. And it's all because of you. You showed me how good it could be. You introduced me to that joy. Show me again.” That revved him up, and in no time he was inside me. But just like the kiss, it wasn't just physical. He was making love to me. It excited me, got me hotter than hell, but scared me a little bit too. I couldn't handle him falling in love with me.

 

He used his skills to make sure we came at the same time, and man was it good. After that I got up and took a shower, and then it was off to campus. I'd been avoiding it, but I had to go. I'd need a new T.A., maybe two, for the semester, and I'd put it off too long as it was. I posted a notice with time slots for anyone interested to reserve, and got out of there as fast as I could. I made it home in time to get some pool time in with Stefan.

 

That was the beginning of his recovery. Probably the biggest factor in helping him out had been Isidore. She had gotten really close to him, and he responded well to her. She'd almost become like his mother, except he hit on her. She continued to amaze me.

 

But that was two days ago. Today, Friday, I headed to the office to see who my potential T.A. candidates would be. I looked at the list and all five slots were filled up. I went through the interviews and none of the candidates enthused me. It wasn't that they weren't smart, because they were. It wasn't because they weren't hard workers, because they wouldn't be where they were now if they weren't. No, there were two reasons that they didn't excite me. The first was instinctive. None of them really struck me as someone I could develop a good working relationship with. I chided myself about that. I was looking for another Jason, and say what you might about what an asshole he could be, he was one great T.A. The other reason was more objective. None of the five applicants had studied any of the areas I specialized in. Not only that, they weren't even close. A passion for the American Revolution or Mayan Pyramids was not going to cut it in my world. So I sat there, eying the five resumes, trying to decide who was the best of a bad lot, when there was a knock at my door.

 

I reluctantly got my lazy ass out of my chair and opened the door. Standing there looking as cute as ever was Tom Hartford. Despite his quirky attendance last semester he'd managed to pull a B+ in my class. Still, he could have done better. “Hey Tom!” I said enthusiastically, and warmly shook his hand. He seemed pleasantly surprised by that. “What brings you here during the summer?”

 

He looked nervous. “I saw the sign that said you were looking for a T.A., but by the time I saw it all the interview spots were filled up. I just wondered if you'd consider me for the position.” 'Which position?' I thought mischievously.

 

“Sure Tom. Have a seat.” He sat on my couch after handing me his CV. I scanned his resume, noting his discomfort, but I couldn't help that, and I really didn't worry about it. He had shown a strong interest in European issues, so he was much more in tune with my studies than the others.

 

“Tom, I like you. I think I could work well with you. I have one big concern. Your attendance last year was bad. You ended up with a B+, when you could easily have gotten an A. So based on that, I'm wondering if I could count on you to get all the work done? I'm a demanding boss, you know.”

 

He didn't miss a beat. He was ready for that question. “I'm sorry about last semester. I didn't have a T.A. position so I had to find jobs to make ends meet. You remember seeing me at Marshal Fields?”

 

“Yeah, I remember. I figured that's how you got the clothes you wear. You always dress well.” That got a smile. “But T.A. positions don't pay much money. Probably less than you were making before. If you've got financial problems, I don't see the difference?” Technically, his finances were his own business, but after Jason, I was cautious.

 

“Last year my parents cut me off financially. They did it abruptly, and I didn't have time to apply for scholarships or any other help. My parents are wealthy, so as long as they're supporting me, I'm out of luck. But now I'm able to show that I'm, uh, emancipated, so the University has helped me out with loans and a small scholarship. Since I've got my tuition paid, and some of my rent covered, with a T.A. position I'd be just fine.”

 

“Your parents just suddenly disowned you?” I asked. I shouldn't have. It was none of my business, and it was wrong of me to pry. I was just about to retract my question, but he spoke first.

 

“It wasn't pretty. They caught me in a compromising position with a friend of mine.” He was blushing. I just stared at him, not comprehending. “The friend is a guy.” He paused for a minute. “I'm sorry; I shouldn't have even come here. No one on campus is going to want to hire a queer.” And he got up to leave.

 

“My father didn't handle it very well when I told him either. But he eventually worked through it, and we have a great relationship.”

 

He stopped in his tracks and gaped at me. “You're gay?” I nodded. “But you just got married. To a woman.”

 

“A marriage of convenience. Remember my friend that was killed in Vietnam?” He nodded. “She gave birth to his son, and I wanted to adopt him and raise him in the U.S. Marrying her was the easiest way to do it. Plus it confuses the homophobes who may otherwise stalk me.” I smiled at him.

 

“Damn,” he said. “I wanted to hit on you so bad last semester but I didn't have the guts.” Uh oh. I felt all the warning signs rising, and I knew that I had no self-control when it came to hot guys like Tom.

 

“Well you blew it. I have a boyfriend now.” He looked visibly disappointed, and it was really cute. “But you did get yourself a job. You start on Monday. Be here at 11AM. I don't like to start too early.”

 

He got a big grin on his face, and it set off his cute looks perfectly. He looked like he wanted to ask something, but was reluctant. Finally he lurched forward and gave me a big hug. “Thanks Professor Crampton. Hope you don't mind the hug. Figured you wouldn't, not with your nickname and all.” Shit. The hugging professor. He turned and headed out of my office, giving me a great view of his cute little ass. Was he wiggling it just a little bit? Little fucker.

 

August 28, 1963

 

I sat alone watching the news. Stefan was kicking back in his room reading ahead in one of his classes. I admired his dedication. Ace had been crabby today and Isidore had been feeling shitty, so they were both locked away in their rooms resting. And Jeff was away at some football meeting. But the news fully captured my attention. It was truly inspirational.

 

Over a quarter of a million people had marched on Washington DC, mostly coloreds but some whites too, to protest segregation. The protest was huge and meaningful, but what really got me was the speaker. Dr. Martin Luther King delivered a blockbuster speech. The last lines brought tears to my eyes, which was saying something since I'm such a hard ass: "Let freedom ring. And when this happens, and when we allow freedom to ring—when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children—black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics—will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual: "Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"

 

The elevator buzzed, so I hurriedly wiped the tears from my eyes and derided myself for being such a weenie. I opened the door and there in front of me was Willie Jackson.

 

“Uh, hi Dr. Crampton. I tried to call and no one answered. The guy downstairs said you moved up here. I hope you don't mind me dropping by.”

 

“No, it's great to see you! And by the way, anyone who's had their dick up my ass gets to call me JP.” He giggled.

 

“Speaking of that...” he said suggestively.

 

I led him to my bedroom and then had an inspired thought. “Willie, go ahead and get ready. I've got to check on something real quick.” He looked nervous, but he started shedding his clothes as I left. I bolted into Stefan's room, scaring the shit out of him. “Stefan, I want you to come barging into my room in 20 minutes. Got that?”

 

He looked at me, confused. “Sure JP. Why?”

 

“You'll see.” I headed back to my room and tossed my clothes into the bathroom and hurried to join Willie.

 

“Cool mirror,” he said. I reached down and grabbed his hard cock. This boy was horny. He moved his mouth onto mine and we mashed together. I grabbed the Vaseline and greased his dick while he held my legs in the air. I started jacking my cock as soon as he entered because I knew he'd blow soon. I was right. He still came before me, but it was good anyway.

 

“I still haven't gotten my trigger under control,” he said guiltily.

 

“You're awesome. It's just your first time. After that you calm down. Wait a few minutes and then you can really take me for a ride.”

 

“If you say so,” he said.

 

“I do. You got a big package and know how to deliver it.” He grinned, gaining some precious ego points back.

 

He had just moved back on top of me for round two when the door burst open and Stefan came in, still looking confused.

 

“Stefan, this is Willie. Willie, this is Stefan. Stefan, Willie was just about to fuck me. Care to join us?” Willie was absolutely mortified. Stefan, somber and morose Stefan, was standing there on the precipice. All he needed was a gentle push.

 

“Uh, you don't have to join us, uh, if you don't want to, uh...” said Willie. He was so cute. Jumping to Stefan's defense, trying to give him an out. I saw the twinkle in Stefan's eye, and knew he was back.

 

“Are you saying you don't want me to join you?” he asked with mock offense.

 

“No, I, uh, I think it would be great if you did, I, uh, I mean you're really cute, and...” I was giggling.

 

“Maybe you should pull that sheet down and convince me,” Stefan said in his sluttiest voice.

 

Willie realized he was being played and lowered the sheet down, exposing not just his beautiful body but his big hard cock. I saw Stefan swallow with lust as he took his clothes off. The two of them were so transfixed on each other I moved off the bed, grabbed my robe, and snuck out to let them fuck in peace.

 

After an hour, they came out, giggling, and headed to Stefan's room. Now that my bedroom was empty, I reclaimed it. Jeff got home about 15 minutes later.

 

He sniffed the air. “Smells like sex in here.”

 

“Stefan got lucky. I fixed him up with someone.”

 

“Oh yeah? Well that smell is making me really horny.”

 

“Good,” I said as he jumped into bed.