Eff Del

Flights of Angels

Book 2 of Young But Daily Growin'

Chapter 1

Inserted between the vague blandness of infancy and the structured routine of being a man, is the wonderful state of existence known as boyhood. Boyhood is a complex, almost magical thing that is impossible to understand or explain. A woman has no concept at all and even a man cannot truly explain what means to be a boy… despite the fact that he once was one. Even when one has been through it, he doesn't actually realize what it was.

It would be akin to expecting a butterfly to explain what is was to have once been a caterpillar.

He took one seemingly effortless hop at the tip of the board and, upon the bounce, he was launched into the air… a sleek, slippery and entirely beautiful missile.

At the apogee of his arc, he doubled his body at the waist, touched his toes with his finger tips and then snapped out, arrow straight, before he sliced into the water so neatly that there was scarcely a discernible splash.

He had been teaching himself to dive and, like everything he put his mind to, the learning and the performance seemed to come naturally to him. I made myself a mental note to find out if he had any interest in professional instruction.

Still mentally transfixed by the skill and beauty of his classic dive, I watched the blurred image of his nude form glide smoothly underwater directly toward me.

Less than a foot away, he curved his head and shoulders to the surface and, with one powerful kick and stroke of his arms, burst up… an explosion of water and boy… his blue/green eyes twinkling and his magnificent smile lighting his face and my heart in unison.

Wrapping his arms around my neck, he pulled himself up my chest so that we were eye to eye. He leaned in and planted a sweet, soft kiss on my lips; then, pulled his head back and smiled as he shook water from his thick, black hair.

"Sean Michael Tucker, I love you, Son," I said enthusiastically. I grasped the wet firm ovals of his athletic little ass as he clasped his strong, young legs around my waist.

"I love you too, Dad." He leaned in and stole another kiss. "Man, I REALLY love sayin' that to you!" And he smiled at me with a joyful, yet almost quizzical, expression on his face. It was as if he, like me, was still having a difficult time believing the wonderful good fortune that had brought us into each others lives.

Releasing his arms from around my neck and flinging them up in a flourish, he bent sharply backwards and, with a wide grin, flipped away from me and slid head first below the water giving me a momentary but pleasant glimpse of his glorious little ass before he corkscrewed over and swam away.

The outdoor swimming pool had been opened weeks ago to accommodate the joint celebration of his twelfth birthday and his official adoption. Since then, we had spent a great deal of private time out here.

I noted with satisfaction that the warm early summer sun had begun to bronze his skin nicely and gamboling about naked, as he usually did, allowed no occasion for the formation of tan lines.

I couldn't help remembering, with a smile, that very first time he had stood naked before me and had turned around so cute and coy to display himself. Not only had I been overwhelmed by his beauty, I'd been amused at how starkly his perfect white ass stood out from his otherwise sun-burnished skin. Not so anymore.

As I watched him from my vantage in the shallow end of the pool, I had one of those inspirational thoughts that sometimes just pops up from out of the blue and I swam out to share it with him.

Without either of us speaking, we reflexively rolled onto our backs and floated side by side, occasionally making small movements with our hands to assist in maintaining our positions. This had become a favorite activity (if you could call it such) for us. These were moments that felt very private and relaxed… a pleasant way to talk or trade thoughts as we drifted together upon the water.

"I don't know why, but I was thinking just now, Sean… do you remember back before all of EVERYTHING happened, I promised you and the guys a fishing trip to my… excuse me, OUR… cabin on Devil's Horn Mountain? Do you think they'd still like to go? It's a perfect time of year. It'll still be a bit cool up there at night, but the daytime should be perfect for fishing, swimming and boating. We should be able to have a great time in the woods and on the lake."

He rolled upright and was treading water as he excitedly replied, "Really? We were all talkin' about that at my party, Dad, honest! With all the stuff that went on, we just all kinda thought you'd forgot about it! I know that the guys would really love it and so would I. Does this mean we can still go? You're still gonna take us? When?"

"Well, I think it would be a lot of fun too. I've got to check my schedule and I'll probably have to change a few things around, but that shouldn't be too hard. This evening we can finalize the dates. If we're going to do it, it should be for at least a week… ten days would be better… otherwise it almost won't be worth driving all the way up there with all that gear."

"Tonight I'll let you make the calls and invite everyone OK?"

"Kay!" and in a flash he lunged at me, hugging me impulsively causing us both to sink underwater. When we'd floated back to the top, I was treated to a wonderful mischievous grin on his face. He was obviously delighted at this unplanned dunking, thinking it to be great fun. In that regard he was no different than any other little boy… a little bit of harmless mischief was always funny.

Taking a quick glance at my Rolex, I decided I'd better shift into my still unfamiliar 'father mode' and I said,"Good, but now, we'd better shower off and get dressed. Your afternoon class with the Professor is in twenty minutes and I've got a meeting with Walter and Uncle Phil."

Sean's education was very non-traditional and, in one form or another, was a year-round endeavor. In order to establish some sort of guideline, we'd had him take a State Certification test in June, just before his birthday, and we'd recently received the results which placed him in the top five percent for his age group so we'd decided not to change a thing.

As Doc Swaim had pointed out to me, Sean was a remarkably intelligent kid to begin with and the education he'd received at the nest had been outstanding. Doc was simply building from that very good foundation and guiding the boy's natural proclivities for learning down various, reasonably structured paths. The big man liked to say that a stimulated curiosity was the key to learning.

This unorthodox program was not only providing Sean with a glorious education, it was also allowing for extreme flexibility permitting us to schedule private chunks of time for personal adventures. It was a wonderful arrangement and it ideally suited our still evolving roles as father and son.

Typically for him, Sean made no protest over my decision that we end the swimming session. He simply wasn't the type of kid given to protests, tantrums or even minor cajoling. Instead, he nodded his head and swam over to the nearest ladder and climbed out of the pool. I watched him in silent appreciation as his nimble little body moved up the steps and across the deck with grace and élan. The muscles in his cute butt flexed with the movement of his well-formed legs and his whole body seemed to bounce with youth and life as he walked toward the pool house.

***

Walter and Uncle Phil had been giving me my own intensive tutelage re garding the remarkable scope and nature of my family enterprises. At first it seemed extraordinary to me how little I actually knew about my family's significant affairs. I had come to learn that these two men represented two arms of the same immense and complicated 'creature'.

While Uncle Phil oversaw the intricately intertwined web of the business and financial aspects of the 'empire', Walter managed the clandestine quasi-military branch that had been so recently revealed to me by my discovery of the existence of the Skuggor and whose scope and reach I was just now beginning to gain some sense of.

Over time, working with them, what had at first seemed to be so vast and overwhelming was now steadily drawing into focus for me and I was surprised at how quickly and easily I was finding myself coming to grips with everything. Uncle Phil had said to me with a smile, "That's because you think like your father, Eric."

That was a great compliment because everything I was now learning about the entire operation had been conceived and initiated many years ago by my father. He had literally built the organization with his creativity, determination and, of course, hard work and he had been active at the very heart of it all up until the day he died.

Early on he had found and recruited Walter and Phil… two very talented and creative young men who were seeking direction and (if the truth be told) hoping to find an unorthodox but useful path for their lives and talents.

They both found what they were looking for in the person of my father. He had not stumbled upon them haphazardly; he had located them himself through careful research and they had taken to my father's plans like ducks to water. Under his guidance and encouragement, they had blossomed and flourished as had my father's organization and the family fortune.

It had apparently been my father's greatest hope that, eventually, I would become involved and, ultimately, take his place as the head of the entire operation. For this reason, all of my diverse interests as a child had been encouraged. Every door of interest opened and every curiosity encouraged. My father had believed that the more rounded and expanded a person's thinking, the better suited he was for leadership.

Upon slowly discovering the nature of the organization, I'd made it clear to these two trusted mentors that I had every intention of assuming my rightful role in the chain of command of the gargantuan entity that had been built from my father's fertile and cunning mind. An organization that he (with his unique sense of humor) had dubbed 'Magnus Venatus'… the 'Great Game'.

I stressed that I needed a great deal of advice and guidance from them now and for a long time to come.

To this end, we'd decided it would be easier for me, as well as for both of them, if we established some central place where both sides of the 'business' could come together and I could learn while participating… an unofficial headquarters… a base of operations. To serve this purpose, we had launched an ambitious project of renovation on the entire old south wing of the mansion.

This section of the large house was hardly being used except for my grandfather's former office which was now the site of Sean and the Professor's classroom. We decided to leave that in place and work around it because the location seemed to be functioning well for them and, if the truth be told, I liked the idea of having Sean so relatively close by.

While many of the rooms on the lower two floors were still in the process of being gutted and re-fitted for various purposes, the entire top floor had already been modified enough to use as our 'command center' and it was there we held a meeting once a week. I received my hands-on 'education' here on the remaining days as Uncle Phil and Walter conducted business as usual.

Initially, we'd considered constructing a new building but had decided that incorporating our command center as part of the large old mansion made its existence less obvious and certainly more private and convenient.

This afternoon, I had called for a special meeting because I'd grown confident enough that I'd decided it was time to discuss my plans to use our resources against the nest. To my surprise, they had added that this was a fortuitous time to call a meeting because they had something they'd like to discuss with me as well.

Showered and dressed casually, Sean and I walked together across the grassy garden and into the south wing… the new ipso facto headquarters of what I'd come to think of as 'the Ops Center of Magnus Venatus' even though the organization was far too vast to be placed under the umbrella of just one name. Once inside, we parted. He scampered off to the classroom and I took the new elevator up to the third floor.

***

We were seated at the beautiful, large custom-crafted table that had been installed as the first major piece of furniture in our new space. The entire top floor had been reworked to include this large conference room as well as several private offices and some additional areas not yet designated for any particular use. The renovations had slowed down a bit because of our extensive electronic and cable requirements, but this area at least was now functional.

The luxuriously grained wood of the table glowed richly in the sunlight that streamed through the newly installed windows whose almost floor-to-ceiling subtly tinted glass afforded a wonderful view down into the classic European style Maze Garden that had been originally designed and planted in my great grandfather's day and which now was so lovingly tended and maintained by Andy's grounds crew.

Both Walter and Uncle Phil had smiled at me as I entered the room and indicated that I should take the place at the head of the table while they took seats at either side. I sat down gingerly onto the new large chair and grinned at them as I swiveled and leaned back into the embrace of the soft brown leather.

"This is nice," I couldn't help but chuckle. "Now I'm going to have to get one like this for my study."

"Eric, I must tell you that you look great in that seat and we've looked forward to the day when you would take your place at the head of the table." Walter was nodding his head in affirmation as Phil spoke.

"It speaks volumes as to how far you have emerged from your emotional problems in the past and are proceeding at becoming the man we all knew you would be. Your intuitive grasp of all aspects of the organization and your recognition of its many subtleties is more than encouraging; it's astonishing. You're a fast learner and an intuitive thinker… your father would be very proud. "

I stared into both of their faces; familiar, trusted, safe… faces from the very earliest memories of my childhood and felt that I had just received an enormous and priceless compliment.

I cleared my throat in an attempt to hide my emotional reaction before I spoke. "Guys, let me tell you what's prompted this meeting, then. It's something that's been building on my mind since Sean came into my life and it's almost like an epiphany." They both listened attentively as I explained my general feelings regarding the nest and the period of sexual servitude they imposed on each of the boys in their charge.

"I'm not being hypocritical here. I fully realize they have enjoyed frequent patronage from some of our own businesses. We, as a company, have paid for and used the services of these kids as bribes, favors, enticements and rewards for staff and clients. I'm sure, from a business point of view, it has seemed above board and reasonable to do this, especially since the nest is so well established that it almost seems respectable. It seems to me that if you're clever enough, creative enough while, at the same time, short sighted enough, the most horrendous things… the most despicable actions… can be justified and made to seem wise or (at the very least) prudent. But I've come to feel it's unconscionable."

"Now, I certainly recognize my own involvement here, not just with those boys I've used personally, but even including my original blurred intent concerning Sean himself."

"I'm making no attempt to excuse my behavior in any of this: I'm no better than the worst of their other clients. I'm completely guilty of taking advantage of the conveniently protected set-up in the past but with my new clarity of mind and, frankly, the love I have for my little son, I've come to think very differently about this situation. Let's face it, what value is being able to have an opinion if you're not capable of rethinking and changing it?"

"This turning of bright little kids into harlots… into 'call boys' … for three or four years is wrong and it negates all of the good that the Academy does. And that's the stumbling point here… the Academy actually does a tremendous amount of good for these kids. Most of them have thrived and succeeded far above the norm when they would have become mediocre people at best had they been reared in the normal 'system' provided by society and we've got to take that into consideration."

"The nest produces good, talented, high-achieving young men."

"What I want to do is essentially stop the prostitution but continue, even improve the development and education they offer these gifted children. I want to make the Academy what it should have been from the very start."

Walter immediately jumped in, "On the surface Eric, this shouldn't be a problem, at least not one that simply throwing money at can't fix especially since the current CEO, Bernard Turnbridge III, was a University classmate of yours and is relatively new to his position. From what I know about him, I can't imagine that he's enjoying having to oversee an organization such as the Academy when he'd much rather be playing golf and chasing women. Running any type of business doesn't seem to be his thing at all. The right sized buy-out would probably send him dancing away in glee."

"However, looking at it realistically, if that's all we did, that will work about as well and be as easy as baptizing a cat."

"The real problem I foresee will come from the disgruntled client base most of whom are powerful people in their own right. We will also encounter resistance from those who have a vested interest in maintaining what has become a very lucrative status quo. Consider that after almost seventy years in operation, the nest has some serious political and legal backing and protection that isn't going to simply go away. I would imagine it's a well-established support system. Who knows how tightly that web has been woven?"

"You're more powerful than any of them Eric but that doesn't mean they can't be nasty and do you a great deal of emotional if not physical harm."

"The practice of white slavery at that school is too ingrained and has existed far too long to just disappear quietly. They'll fight you on this Eric and some of them won't do it nicely either. At the least they will be a pain in the ass and at the worst, they will be actually dangerous."

"Exactly," Uncle Phil interjected, "and if you think about it, Eric, one of the most obvious areas of attack will be the relationship between you and Sean. They'll zero in on how you originally contracted him out, at a younger age and for a far longer period of time than any boy before him, and they'll make it seem more sordid than any other transaction that's ever taken place with them. If we try to take them down, they'll try to drag you with them. They'll roast you."

"You're old enough and tough enough to handle what they throw at you, but the little guy… well, let's be honest… as smart as he is, when it comes to being worldly wise, we all know he's almost like a baby. He's got a pure, trusting heart. He knows nothing about evil or guile."

"When they get through attacking you two, God knows what it will do to him emotionally and even mentally."

"I've already thought about that," I told them as I leaned forward gripping the edge of the table.

"That's why we need to come up with a… a cover story… a fable… a MYTH if you will, that explains the adoption in such a pure, innocent and admirable way that no one would dare to cast aspersions on it. It's got to come across as so clean, so virtuous that Disney would love to make it into a movie and THAT needs to be the first course of action taken before we attempt any moves upon the Academy. I will not have anyone or anything hurting Sean."

"A MYTH?" Walter chuckled. "Eric, you've been hanging around Professor Swaim too much." But then he quickly added, "How about I give this problem to my people? In fact, I've got just the guy in mind. He's one of my brightest, most creative thinkers. He should be able to create a story for us that's so good even YOU will believe it when you hear it."

"Do I know this person?" I asked.

"Sure you do. You've met him on your jet a few times and once under that fire tower back during the… trouble several weeks ago. Though he was packing a gun at that time, he's actually better at the cerebral type of stuff… the smoke and mirrors."

I thought for a moment before I realized he could only be talking about one person.

"Barry?"

"Yep, Barry. Let me give this project to him, Eric. He's nothing short of a genius at this sort of thing."

"I would never have guessed it, Walter."

"Well Eric, that's the point isn't it?" He was smiling and very quickly I smiled back, nodding my head in acknowledgment.

With that course of action agreed upon, suddenly there was a slightly uncomfortable silence at the table and I noticed Walter and Phil exchange meaningful glances. Finally Uncle Phil spoke.

"Now then Eric, since you're growing into your position of authority so capably, Walter and I feel this would be a good time to discuss the future."

"As you now know, we were with your father from the very beginning. While he was the genius behind the enterprise, we both played a significant part in its development, expansion and now we are, of course, integral to its day-to-day operation and very involved in its continuing success."

"Lest you become suspicious, you should understand that we're both extraordinarily well compensated for our work… perhaps better than you can even guess. That's not an issue and never has been."

"The issue… the reality… is, we're not getting any younger."

"If your father had lived you'd have been at least four years further along in your involvement in the business and, by now, seeing how quickly you catch on to things, I suspect he would have been slowly phasing you into control while working himself out and into an easy chair."

"Sadly, fate didn't play it that way and, unfortunately, you reacted badly to the tragedy."

"We've had to take up the slack while you were involved in what essentially was your four year drunken pity party and we did it gladly. But now you've returned to the real world and as you work your way into true control, it's time for us to be locating and training our own replacements. Frankly, had you stayed in your long inebriated fog, we would have made these decisions on our own. But, now that you are becoming the effective executive that you are, it's only proper that we consult with you and act with your knowledge and blessing."

I felt the cold chill of panic grip me.

"W-what are you saying Uncle Phil? Are you and Walter leaving me?"

"Not at all Eric!" Walter leaned forward to grasp my arm as he spoke quickly."You'd have to drag us out of here kicking and screaming! We both plan on being around and active for many, many years to come but we ARE getting a bit long in the tooth. We need to be training and phasing in people who can fill our shoes and eventually become YOUR team just as WE were initially your father's team."

"Do you have people in mind?"

"Well yes, I do at least."

"I've actually been thinking about this for a long time and taking into account the considerable growth of the business and other 'things', I think it might be wise to consider a slight reorganization. For now at least, I'd like to bring up two people and split the duties. I'd like to begin working Barry in as the guy in charge of planning and deployment and, at the same time, I'd like to be bringing Richard to be head of Security and (shall we call it) clandestine operations."

"Richard?" I cut in. "Do I know Richard?"

"You don't actually KNOW him Eric, but you have met him. He was the one at the gate the day you returned from up north with Sean and you've seen him there several times after that. He played an important part in planning and implementing the new security measures that were set up after the incident up north."

"For the foreseeable future, if you agree, they would both continue to report to me and, of course, ultimately to you."

"They're both relatively young men. Barry is a couple of years older than you and he's been with me since he graduated college and Richard is a bit older. He's 38, he has a great deal of black ops experience in the military and a marvelous talent and feel for the work. With no false modesty, he reminds me of myself when I was young. Your father approved his initial recruitment and he's been an active Skugga for a number of years. His work is impeccable and he is respected throughout the entire organization."

"He and Barry are excellent, capable and valuable men."

"With total confidence, I have to yield to your judgment in this, Walter. When do you plan to implement these promotions?"

"At once. I'll have Barry get going immediately on the adoption cover story issue and at the same time, with a little fanfare, I'll bring Richard into the household, ostensibly as my assistant… assistant butler that is. As far as the world knows that's all I am after all. It's important that Richard quickly become a regular face around the property… to become known by staff and visitors alike. Sean needs to get to know him and trust him as well, because his safety will also be in Richard's hands."

"Barry will remain in the background though he'll begin attending our regular meetings so you'll be seeing him much more frequently. We'll come up with some explanation for his frequent visits to the house."

"By the way, Barney Dunn… I guess you met him as 'Wolfman' up north… is already grooming his daughter Clair who you, of course, will remember, as his eventual replacement as Director of Field Operations. She'll stay on with the FBI for a few more years before she can retire without raising any eyebrows at the Bureau."

"That all sounds more than acceptable, Walter. How about you, Uncle Phil?"

"Well Eric, I'm not so far along in the process as Walter. Now that I have your blessing to move on this, I'll begin looking for a young person either near graduation or recently graduated from college… someone with a good head for business and a knack for creative thinking but not yet jaded by the culture of some other company or endeavor. We do things a bit differently here." He smiled at that last comment.

"I'll know him or her when I see them. Essentially I'm looking for someone as cagey as I was when your father picked me up. You know, the type that could hold up a stage coach while butter could melt in his mouth." He gave Walter a conspiratorial wink.

Almost immediately I had a thought. "You know, while Sean and I were staying at the lodge in the National Park, I met a young man I'd like for you to talk to. His name is Chris. I've got all his information over in my study. I'll get it to you… I had him checked out shortly after we got back. He's currently a student at the University though this summer he's working as Assistant Concierge at the Lodge. He's a very impressive kid. A quick thinker… boy next door type… but I sensed something much more impressive hiding just below the surface. I'd like for you to have a look at him."

"I'm not insisting you do anything except meet him and talk to him. This is all going to be your choice, Phil. I'll tell you that I liked his style and his quick creative thinking almost immediately. So much so that I'd already planned on finding something for him to do in one of our companies when he graduates."

I'll tell you what! You've been working very hard." I grinned at both of them. "You both deserve something by way of a little break… something special so I'm going to use a little 'influence' and book the same great private cabin at the Lodge for this week and I'd like you two to take a mini vacation out there in the park. The only stipulation is that I'd like BOTH of you to meet Chris and talk to him… don't mention any job prospects. I'll make certain that he's available to meet with you. Just get a feel for him and we can talk about it at our next meeting. OK? Remember, this is just a knee jerk reaction from me you are both much more experienced at judging a person's character and capabilities than I am."

"Don't ever try to sell yourself short to us." Uncle Phil and Walter smiled at each other. "You are most definitely your father's son and it's quite obvious you've inherited his judgment and intuition. BUT the trip sounds great to me Eric," said Uncle Phil.

"I won't turn down a luxury weekend in the mountains," Walter said with a grin. "I haven't pulled trout out of a mountain stream in a couple of years. While you're conjuring up the reservations, how about swinging me a permit to fish where I want in a National Park?"

"I think that can be arranged," I smiled back at him. "Now then, Walter, that means you've got just a day and a half to get things started with your new people. Please tell Richard I'll need to speak with him tomorrow. As my new Assistant Head of Security, he needs to know that in ten days or so I'm planning on taking seven kids on a fishing trip to the big cabin at Lake Osa Largo."

"Cute!" said Walter rolling his eyes to the ceiling but still smiling.

***

"All of their parents have given them permission to come on the trip Professor Swaim it's gonna be soooo much fun! Please say you'll come too. Some of the guys don't know how to fish at all, an NOBODY could teach them better than you and besides, at night, you tell the BEST stories in the whole world! Please say you'll come!"

We were sitting in the overstuffed chairs in the living room at Fish Camp.

Having invited his six friends on the trip, Sean had come up with the idea that we should also bring along Doctor Swaim to serve as instructor, story teller, and (I quite imagined) just to further show off his 'private Wizard' to his friends.

The big man broke into a broad grin and clapped a hand on Sean's shoulder all but engulfing it in his grasp."Enough Sean! Your powers of persuasion are beyond my ability to resist. I shall be delighted to be a part of this marvelous expedition."

"Yea!" exclaimed Sean. He jumped to his feet and attempted vainly to wrap his arms around his massive tutor in a happy hug.

"Well then," I said offering a glass containing a fresh 'Jack and water' to the Professor as I poured myself a single malt over ice, "I suppose I'd better alert John to get the motor home ready for the trip and I guess I better break it to him that he's been shanghaied for this adventure as well."

"Yes!" exclaimed Sean, thrusting his arms high into the air.

"You know very well he'd have been terribly hurt if you'd left him out of this," grinned Doc as he raised his glass to me. I saluted back and drained my drink in one pull.

Placing my hand on Sean's arm I guided him toward the door. "Come along, little man. You can drive us back to the house. We've got to draw up a list of supplies… Mrs. Edwards can help us with that. Doc, would you be kind enough to put together a list of equipment we'll require for the three of us and seven kids? I've decided to buy all new gear for everyone. I particularly want all the kids to be equally well equipped."

"I'll have everything ordered and delivered to the cabin before we arrive. Sean, we also have to say goodbye to Walter and Uncle Phil and wish them a good trip to the National Park; they're leaving early in the morning."

As I said this last part, I smiled inwardly because when, I'd secured the reservations for Walter and Phil, I'd learned that, inadvertently, I'd bumped the same sleazy Senator as I had the last time. I thought to myself that I should do that more often… just for the fun of it.

Flashing a 'Sean smile' my little boy jumped up behind the wheel of the golf cart calling, "Bye Professor Swaim! See ya in class tomorrow!"

***

July is the time of year when the new antlers of male deer begin to emerge. They soon shed their downy coating and begin to develop into the splendid glory that make these creatures so beautiful and so ultimately a symbol of maleness. It is for this reason that the full moon in July is traditionally called the 'Buck Moon'.

Sean was standing in his underpants staring out the window in our bedroom. Everything in the universe seemed to excite and stimulate his innate sense of wonder and I was grateful for every moment I was blessed enough to watch him as he observed the world with joy and pleasure.

The black night sky was devoid of even traces of cloud and the extraordinarily bright light of the Buck Moon streamed into the room through the window, bathing him in its pale orange light.

I stood almost mesmerized as I gazed upon his stark beauty in the ethereal illumination. I thought, regretfully, of my camera sitting unattended up in the studio in another wing of the building… much too far away to retrieve before the haunting magic of the moment was lost.

"I must begin to keep a camera with me at all times," I thought to myself. "He's daily growing and images like this happen only once and they're gone forever."

He turned to look at me, eyes wide in happy pleasure. The gold oval pendant that hung around his neck twinkled momentarily as he turned, reflecting the unusually bright moonlight; a light that made him appear to be bathed in gold… a spectacular, fragile golden statue that was, at this moment, mine alone to view and appreciate.

"Wow Eric! Come see what a bright, beautiful moon there is out there." He'd walked across the room and taken my hand leading me to the window.

I stood behind him pulling him into me, pressing him against me with gentle urgent force as I stroked his bare shoulders and nuzzled his thick dark hair with my chin.

He was leaning slightly with both hands on the windowsill gazing up at the night sky. Slowly my greedy, loving hands slid from his shoulders and down his arms pausing briefly to caress his splayed fingers before moving to his smooth sides. I brushed my fingertips against his ribs as if they were some delicate and rare musical instrument which drew a soft giggle from him… sounding to me like the sweetest of music.

Moving to his chest I took both tiny little nipples between my thumbs and fingers and gently kneaded them lovingly as I kissed his hair and ears and both sides of his neck. Breathing deeply, I took in the scent of him… the scent of pure boy… the scent of Sean.

He stood there, still and relaxed, letting out a soft purring sound as I moved my hand down his flat little belly, past the waistband of his boxer briefs and softly cupped the little package tucked in the pouch.

He arched his back into me so that he could crane his neck and turn his head to kiss my bare chest and lick my neck sensuously.

Pulling slightly away he turned to face me, his eyes partially hooded by dark lashed lids. His tongue swept once across his upper lip as he slipped his thumbs into the elastic, pushing the tiny garment down his legs revealing the small but now very erect penis and the still tight scrotum.

The underpants dropped to the ground and he stepped smartly out of them. At my unspoken urging, he turned slowly… full circle… smiling as I viewed his golden body bathed in the mysterious moonlight.

Dropping to my knees, I grasped him by the hips and pulled his little pelvis to me as I breathed hotly upon the rampant little organ. Arching his groin to me as if in offering, he gripped my shoulders and sighed huskily as I wrapped my hungry lips around his eager tool.

I moved his hips with my hands controlling his thrusts as I worked my wet lips and dancing tongue up down and around the small sweet rod.

Very quickly the oncoming rush of pleasure began to overtake him as he fought my confining hands in an attempt to thrust faster. His breathing became rapid and harsh and finally, with one push, he exploded as a healthy spurt of sweet cum shot into my waiting mouth. I swallowed quickly but kept a small bead upon my tongue to roll around and taste.

I felt his legs collapse as he discharged his passion but I had him firmly by the waist and I held him up until he was quite finished and had melted weakly against me,

"Oooooh o-o-oh Eric… I…" and then he stopped trying to talk and instead buried his face into my flesh sighing softly with happy contentment.

After a few moments, I scooped up his still limp body and carried him over to the bed. Lying in my arms he whispered softly, "I couldn't never love anybody like I love you, Eric, You make me soooo happy."

The issue of my name… what he called me… was never as contradictory to me as it was during and following our times of shared passion. During the day, since the adoption, he strove to call me 'Dad' because, in his mind, it was the proper thing to do. It was still quite new to him, however, and it was not unusual for him to slip. In the bedroom, at moments such as these however, I was decidedly Eric and never anything else.

This tended to remind me of the strange dichotomy of our relationship. I was, for the time being at least, father and lover but I no longer worried about it, knowing in my heart that it would work itself out naturally and for the best. While our erotic moments were special and precious to me, they did not take precedence over my strong pure love for him and my desire to ensure he developed into a happy and loving person.

He was the son of my soul, the love that had saved my life.

I squeezed him tightly to me and made some sort of soothing noises. I didn't try to speak… I didn't want him to know how hard I was weeping from overwhelming joy.

***

"I want to thank you for this consideration, Sir. Please believe that I'll never let you down. It is a great pleasure and honor to serve under you just as it was under your father."

"So you knew my father then?"

"Yes Sir. Not well of course, though we talked on several occasions and I even accompanied him on one excursion six years ago. We were all very sad when he… when your family… when they… well, he was great man Sir."

"Thank you Richard," I nodded at him.

We were seated in what would eventually be my office in the new third floor complex. Like much of the rest of the renovation, the electrical and cable installations were holding up construction. While far from finished, it did contain a few chairs a table that served as a temporary desk and a few other rude amenities.

We had been discussing what would be his evolving role as Walter's assistant and it was a very informal interview.

Richard Tirone did not give the impression of being as big as he actually was. He was about six feet 3 inches [1.91 m] tall, solidly built with light brown hair that he wore short but not buzzed. His resume was impressive though, like Walter much of the detailed information concerning his military career was classified. That little detail had not been an impediment for our organization. As I had discovered, if we wanted information, we got it.

He had been on the cusp of deciding to re-enlist or not when he was quietly recruited by the Scuggor and had distinguished himself during the nine years he'd been with us. I liked the precise but comfortable way that he spoke and carried himself and I felt that in time we might become friendly perhaps even as close as my Father had been with Walter.

"I think that since we're going to be working together like this from now on, you'd better dispense with the 'Sir' … it makes me very uncomfortable. All of my close associates call me Eric unless we're in public or trying to impress outsiders; then, of course, it will be 'sir' or 'Mr. Tucker'."

"Thank you Sir… err Eric. That's going to take a little time to seem natural, but I'll work on it." He smiled at me and I noted it was a very pleasant smile. That pesky little voice in my head told me that I was going to like this man.

I'd come to this meeting prepared to share information about the proposed fishing trip and was surprised and impressed when he produced a thick dossier of information that included travel routes, terrain maps and detailed plans of the cabin.

After letting me ramble on for several minutes he finally interrupted me with a pleasant nod and said, "Actually Sir, I think I've got this covered."

I stared directly into his eyes for a few moments before I rose from my chair, clapped him on the shoulder and said, "Yes, I believe you do Richard. Will we see you while we're up there?"

Without cracking so much as a smile he said, "If you do sir, then you'd be smart to fire me."

Then he DID smile and said, "But rest assured that I'll be seeing YOU. I bet you'll all have a great time… Eric."

He rose and left the room leaving me to contemplate the fact that Walter certainly knew how to pick his people.

***

The sun had not come up over the horizon when Doc, John and I herded seven wild and excited boys into the big RV. As Doc ensured they were all seated and buckled up I climbed up into the large front passenger seat next to John. As he started the engine and the big vehicle began to move, the noise from the boys in the back rose by about three decibels.

John adjusted his sun glasses and leaned over toward me and said in a pseudo whisper, "I don't suppose we could have drugged them or gotten them drunk for the ride eh?" I just smiled and shrugged my shoulders. Shortly the boys all waved at the uniformed guard as we drove through the gate and out onto the open road.

I'd had visions of this being a horrible journey with seven preadolescents bouncing around in the confined space of the motor home, but I hadn't reckoned on Doctor Swaim and his 'magic'. Within moments he had the entire group absorbed in a series of games, quizzes and other diversions that would ultimately occupy their young minds for the bulk of the journey. I turned in my seat and looked back on several occasions as he cast his spell on these little boys and, as I had many times since I was a kid myself, I wondered if he was indeed a wizard.

Thanks to his efforts, the four and a half hour ride was remarkably pleasant and it seemed that in no time we were driving down the private dirt road that led to the cabin.

My grandfather had purchased this property which included three quarters of the shoreline of Lake Oso Largo and, while he'd fished and hunted on it, he'd never put up any permanent structures. It was my father who had built the cabin when I was about three years old.

In reality, it was a cabin in name only. Framed of logs and glass, the large rambling structure seemed to actually sprawl across the grounds as if it had grown there. Its architecture and material were designed to allow it to appear almost natural and in total accord with its surroundings. The rear of the structure had always been (to me at least) its crowning architectural feature as it was almost all glass and overlooked the beautiful lake and beyond that, the still snow-covered peak of Cuerno del Diablo… Devil's Horn Mountain.

It boasted six large bedrooms plus an upstairs sleeping loft. Off the one end of the second floor was a large game room with areas for playing cards and board games. A large antique pool table was the centerpiece of this room and a rustic masculine bar stood against the far wall. The huge main family room, which occupied a good portion of the first floor, boasted a large dining area and two mammoth natural stone fireplaces at each end.

There were five luxurious bathrooms inside the building and also a multi-head outdoor shower facility at the back. A wide covered porch at the second floor level wrapped completely around the building and, at its north end, was a large hot tub… one of the last things my father had arranged to have installed.

There was electricity for lighting and heat and large propane tanks for cooking. There were also several radios, a computer room with a private satellite link and a handful of hard wired telephones. There was no television. My father had forbidden TV in this remote retreat.

He had named the cabin after the lake; 'Long Bear' which was the English translation of "Osa Largo"

Though he'd never said so to me, I'd always assumed that my father had designed and built Long Bear Cabin supposing that eventually he would have a bigger family than it had turned out. It was always too large for us when we'd stayed there unless we had guests. Right now however, it seemed to be the perfect size and, for the first time in my life, it occurred to me that my father had been planning for the eventuality of grandchildren. The thought was melancholy but no longer devastating. Time and Sean had dulled the sting of my family's deaths and my heart was very much at peace.

At the back of the cabin, the grassy property sloped down to the edge of the lake. Situated on a completely private cove, there was a large free-floating dock as well as a very big boathouse. About 50 yards from the shore the old wooden raft was anchored in place. It looked as if it had recently received a fresh coat of paint.

My staff had been up here earlier to deliver the supplies and equipment and, working with the two resident caretakers, to set up the cabin for our visit.

The three larger boats had been taken from the boat house and were tied to the dock. Resting upside down on racks near the shore were four aluminum Grumman canoes. With a gaggle of seven 11 and 12 year-old boys and this pure rustic environment, adventure was there waiting for us to find it.

John pulled the big RV over to the side and opened the doors. No sooner had he done so than a tumble of arms and legs that eventually separated into seven little boys poured out and stopped momentarily to look around in awe at the beautiful surroundings. This rare spate of silent contemplation lasted very briefly before they became boys again and ran off in several directions on missions of boisterous discovery.

I stood there grinning and shaking my head. John looked perplexed as he said to no one in particular, "Geeze! They're all over the place already! They seem as happy as clams and they haven't even looked inside the cabin yet! I wish I was that easily pleased."

Doc Swaim placed a hand on John's shoulder and with a chuckle said, "You know John, a wise fellow once said, 'Show a man something new and he'll ask 'what is it?' Show a boy something new and he'll ask 'what can I do with it?' You should do your best to have fun on this trip. In case you've forgotten how, watch them over the next ten days… they'll teach you."

Chapter 2

Boys in the woods and a plan of action

For some foolish reason, we have been taught to think that a child's purpose in this world is to grow up. This is of course, nonsense. A child's purpose in this world is simply to be a child. It is not a flaw or a fault in the child that it does, in fact, eventually grow up. That is nature, but it is not purpose.

The fact that childhood is fleeting doesn't give it less value. Nature doesn't rank its treasures based upon longevity. Nature pours the same amount of effort in to each and every moment. It makes no distinction between the mayfly and the tortoise.

Childhood is not a process; it simply IS… much like a sunset. Both of these are viewed with wondrous appreciation, not just because they are beautiful, but because they are fleeting.

As large as the cabin was, it wasn't large enough to completely eliminate or even muffle the shrieks of delight and excitement as seven little boys, having completed their initial exploration of the immediate grounds and the waterfront, now swept through every room on all three floors of the building.

I was sitting in the kitchen sipping on an ice-cold beer with John and the Professor, while my two resident caretakers stood leaning against the center island counter with their glasses of pinot grigio.

Windy and LC had been the keepers of Long Bear Cabin since I was 11 or 12 years old.

I was never clear how my father had stumbled upon them or if, in fact, they had sought out my father. All I knew was that this wildly unlikely couple had lived in the large apartment over the boathouse and looked after the cabin and the property for over fifteen years.

Both were in their late forties and, while there was no doubting that they were gay and a solid couple, they had not taken advantage of the state's newly revised law making marriage between same-sex partners legal. They seemed perfectly content being a self-proclaimed and long-standing pair.

Physically, they couldn't have been more different. Windy was short, plump and bald, save for a ragged fringe of grey hair which gave him the air of middle-aged Friar Tuck.

LC on the other hand, was tall and as lanky as a rail. He sported a full head of hair worn long and drawn back into a ponytail. His hair had been snow white for as long as I had known him.

They were two of the funniest people I knew and, upon meeting them, you couldn't help but be entranced by their mutual charm and good nature. They were perfect together and, as a team, performed their functions at the cabin with almost invisible perfection.

"When all the equipment arrived, knowing you were bringing along seven little boys, we made an executive decision and put all the sleeping bags upstairs in the loft. Was that right?" Windy asked, sipping his wine.

"You bet that's right," I said with a smile, "and I can tell you this; the three of us are going to be sleeping on the second floor in bedrooms as far away from their noise as possible."

After a brief discussion, we agreed that lunch would be a 'make your own sub sandwich' affair and we would follow that with a boat tour of the lake. I figured that would pretty much take up the rest of the day and give the kids a taste of the surrounding area and its many possibilities.

Doc and John had each been up here a couple of times but, for the boys, this was a first and I knew that they weren't prepared for the size of the lake and the wildness of the surrounding country.

"We were thinking chicken parm for diner tonight if that sounds OK to you Eric," LC spoke.

"Sounds great, but honestly, I've got to tell you guys I'm leaving the menus completely up to you. You've done this for too long to need any advice from me and besides, these are pre-teen boys. There'll be no need for your Cordon Bleu training with this bunch so just relax. This is a fun trip with nobody to impress. Whatever you cook they're going to love it."

***

The boys were delighted with the assembly-line sandwich lunch and they ate like a little swarm of locusts. There was very little left on the plates of cold cuts, cheeses and vegetables that had been laid out for them and I think I spotted one lonely roll sitting on the table and two forlorn potato chips in the bowl as we ushered them out and down to the dock.

While John and I loaded the coolers filled with water soda and beer on board, Professor Swaim showed the boys how to put on and comfortably fasten their life jackets. He gave a little speech explaining that at no time would any of them be out in a boat without wearing one even though they were 'the certified finest young swimmers in the entire state'.

This of course drew large smiles and raucous agreement as they climbed aboard the big bow rider and found their seats up front. There was plenty of room as the boat was designed to comfortably carry 14 adults. John cast off the lines and I fired up the big outboard and we pulled smoothly away from the dock.

Since I own seventy-five percent of the shoreline, the lake is in a pretty natural state. The surrounding forest was a thick mixture of tree types. While there were many deciduous varieties… primarily oak and birch… the vast majority was, typical of mountain forest, evergreen. We were not at such a high elevation that the trees didn't grow to full height. The timberline was far above us on the Devil's Horn. The thick forest was very different visually from what the boys were used to seeing in the 'lowlands' where we all lived. They were intelligent kids and they were all savvy enough to appreciate what they were seeing.

I was initially cruising leisurely along the north shore and pointing out some of my favorite landmarks. I specifically wanted to show them the 'sandies' which were small naturally occurring sandy beaches that looked invitingly out of place compared to the wild rocky nature of the bulk of the shore.

I explained that my father had deigned not to actually name them but rather, each beach was known by number counted from leaving our cove and moving down along the shore. Hence, there were… First Sandy, Second Sandy, Third Sandy etc.

"We're coming up to Fifth Sandy now, guys. This is the biggest and the best of them. It's always been my favorite. We'll probably at least have a picnic here one day… maybe even an overnight. If you look up there at the top of those rocks, that's the 'crazy man's ledge'. It's the best jumping-into-the water spot on the whole lake. Even though it's pretty close to shore, the water's quite deep there." Their collective reaction was predictably enthusiastic and, being little boys, they were soon attempting to cajole me into pulling in to shore so they could try it out. I was smiling but adamant that, right now, we were strictly on tour.

Having passed this last beach, I headed out toward the middle of the lake in order to give them some idea of its size. It took about fifteen minutes before they realized, with some degree of discomfort, that they could barely see the shore any more and what they could see was merely a grey blur without visual detail.

"Now do you see why your life jackets are so important?" I asked. "If something were to happen to the boat, good as you guys are, I wouldn't want to have to depend upon you being able to swim to shore." This changed their previously chipper moods into something decidedly somber and so I decided to lighten things up again. I throttled up the giant outboard and soon the boat reared nose up and we were speeding across the lake. The shouts of delight as seven little boys enjoyed the choppy ride, echoed across the lake.

As we neared the far shore I slowed down and told them; "We're pulling into Raccoon Cove. It's a part of the lake shore that I don't own. It belongs to Camp West Wind… that's a boy's summer camp. We'll just make a pass past their beach so Commodore Tipton knows we're at the cabin. I'll bet we'll all be invited over here to spend a day and, if we are, I promise we'll have fun. We're good neighbors to each other and have been for a long time."

Making certain that there were no people currently in the water near the wide beach at the end of the cove, I pulled in as close to shore as I dared and gunned the engine as I raced parallel to the beach raising a large fan of water. Cutting the wheel sharply, I sped out of the protected waters of the cove and back onto the large lake.

At this point I noticed the sun was pretty low in the sky. We'd been out for about four hours and it was time to head back. I winked at John and I opened her up. We got home a whole lot faster than it had taken us on the way out and the boys were thrilled.

***

Sitting at the long table set off from the kitchen, I looked down at seven smiling little faces, each of them, including Sean, with noses and cheeks newly red from the sun.

Windy came rolling out of the kitchen with a wooden bowl in his hand, and a very serious look on his face. "Listen up men," he commanded the attention of the boys. "Pass this bowl down and each of you take one folded piece of paper out." He watched as they did as he requested with looks of complete puzzlement.

"Now, you're up here for ten days and there's no free ride in this kitchen. LC and I have taken care of everything today and we'll handle everything on days you've got special activities but, in between that, you're all going to get one day of kitchen helper duty. That means setting the tables for breakfast, lunch and dinner, helping to carry the food out from the kitchen, clearing the table and helping with the dishes."

At this point, LC entered from the kitchen carrying a clipboard. "Unfold your slips of paper and call out your number. I'll write it down here next to your name and I'll post a chart in the kitchen tomorrow."

With a solemnity that only pre-teen boys can somehow affect, they each unfolded their slips of paper and reported their numbers. I was a bit surprised when it became apparent that Sean had drawn number one and little Charlie had number two.

"OK then, on your scheduled day, you report down here in the kitchen at 6:30 in the morning." LC stated drawing a chorus of groans from a number of the boys.

"Hey guys! It's only for one day. That's not so bad!" Sean spoke with a large smile. I felt my heart flip as once again I was reminded why I loved him so much.

Before there was any further reaction LC and Windy strode back into the kitchen returning almost at once with steaming platters of gooey chicken parmesan and bowls of linguine. There was soon too much eating for any grumbling and the satisfied noises circling the table made for pleasant listening. The food was considerable better than just 'good'. LC was (among his many other talents) a trained and certified gourmet chef and Windy was no slouch in his own right. When the two of them teamed up in the kitchen, the food was always glorious.

When dinner was finished, we all gathered in the big room in front of one of the massive fireplaces now sporting a roaring fire. With pillows flung upon the floor, everyone was grouped comfortably as Windy and LC passed around mugs of hot chocolate to the boys.

Doc soon made certain John and I were sipping on something considerably more adult, and the odd couple soon emerged from the kitchen with an opened bottle of wine and two glasses for themselves.

Doc Swaim stood up. "Who would like to lead us all in a song?" he asked and was as surprised as I was when five of the boys, almost in unison, said, "Sean and Rico!"

Before any of the adults could make a comment, Matty spoke up, "Yeah you guys… go get your music stuff." With an exchange of smiles, the two boys bounded up stairs to the loft. When they returned, Sean was carrying the guitar case and Rico was toting a satchel. I knew that Sean had brought the little Martin but it hadn't occurred to me that his friends knew that he played. Just another mystery of childhood I supposed.

Matty and Bulldog had moved two armless chairs up in front. Sean took out his guitar and Rico removed from his sack what looked for all the world like a long necked ceramic gallon jug except there was an unexpected hole protruding from the side of the vessel. While Sean adjusted the tuning on the guitar, Rico began rapidly thrumming the sides of the clay jar with his palms and fingertips producing a surprisingly loud sharp rhythmic tone and then by striking the side hole, created a remarkable deep haunting bass note the likes of which I'd never heard before. The combination of the two actions produced percussion music entirely unique to my experience.

As I watched him warming up I realized the tone of the notes changed with the position on the jar that he was tapping. Fascinated I asked, "What is that Rico?"

"It's an Ibo Mr. T," he replied with a smile. "It's from Nigeria. Some people call it an Ibo Drum but it's not really a drum its… well, it's something else." With a cute giggle he added, "It's an Ibo!"

Satisfied with his tuning, Sean nodded to his friend and began a driving, syncopated chord progression on the guitar. This also was new. I was used to Sean delicately finger picking the instrument but now he was using a plectrum and the rhythm he was playing definitely had a jazzy, almost third-world feel to it. It was contagious and made you want to move with it.

Rico was soon countering with his fingers flying up and down the sides of the Ibo and, as they played, both boys, eyes closed and lips pursed in tight smiles, were swaying their bodies in time to the music. Suddenly, they were singing in a strange but perfect harmony.

My grandma and your grandma
Sitting by the fire
My grandma told your grandma
"Gonna set your flag on fire"
Talkin' 'bout
Hey now
Hey now
Iko iko un day
Jockomo feena
ah na nay
Jockomo feena nay

I recognized the song as the strange, classic New Orleans Mardi Gras song whose strong rhythm and mysterious lyrics had been covered over the years by a diverse number of recording artists under different titles such as 'Iko Iko', 'Jockomo' and 'Uncle John'. I wondered briefly how these kids had come to learn it but gave up on that thought because nothing really surprised me in that regard anymore.

After the first verse and chorus, the other six boys were up on their feet, dancing joyfully and singing back the lyrics in the distinct call and response fashion that was the nature of the song when sung in its proper environment. When the final verse had been sung, the boys circled around little Charlie who, grinning ear to ear began to extemporaneously create verses out of thin air. Eventually, he made up at least one for each of the boys and then, without a bit of mercy or deference included one for each of the adults including Windy and LC. His little creations were hilarious and soon we were all singing and swaying around him, egging him on to new levels of creativity. I was to learn later that this was one of the small boy's talents. He had the gift for rhyming and joining words at the drop of a hat and entertained his friends and family endlessly with his ability.

When he had sung his last verse and then repeated the actual chorus, he spread his hands to indicate he was finished and we all cheered and applauded with enthusiasm.

Sean and Rico continued to play and lead us in songs for about an hour when I decided to be the big meanie and announced that it was now time for bed.

To my absolute surprise, I didn't receive a single grumble as they trooped up the stairs. I did, however, hear what seemed like conspiratorial whispers. At the second floor landing which formed a sort of gallery overlooking the great room, they lined up along the railing and began clapping their hands in a familiar rhythm. At the center of the line, little Charlie, grinning like a Cheshire cat and wiggling back and forth in time to the music, began to sing;

Some old men and some young boys
Dancing like they're wired
Some old men asked some young boys
How come you're all not tired?
Talkin' bout
Hey now
Hey now
Iko Iko un day
Jokomo feena
Ah na nay
Jockamo feena nay

Some old men told some young boy
"Get up there an start snoozin'"
Some young boys knew some old men
Just wanted to be boozin'
Talkin' bout
Hey now
Hey now
Iko Iko un day
Jokomo feena
Ah na nay
Jockamo feena nay

Then they called out in unison, "Good night all you old men!" and, amid a torrent of giggles, they rushed up stairs to the third floor leaving the five of us adults shaking our heads.

***

As I always do when I'm up at the lake, I slept deeply and well. The master bedroom took up almost the entire east side of the second floor and was floor to ceiling glass on two walls. I was slowly coming into wakefulness before the rose-gray light of dawn shone through the glass as I instinctively reached over to touch him in greeting and was startled to discover his side of the bed was empty. My mind clicked into gear before panic could set in and I remembered where I was and, with that memory, came the unhappy recognition that my bed would remain empty for the duration of this trip.

Rising naked from under the covers I walked alone into the bathroom for my morning piss followed by a shower. I deliberately chose not to shave this morning as there would be no one to complain about my rough stubble this evening.

I privately chastised myself for this sudden wave of self-pity with a personal reminder that, as he grew older, he would almost certainly be sharing my bed less and less. I shook my head in bittersweet resolution knowing that I had chosen the path and the role that was ultimately best for him and that was all that mattered. Ah, the sad repercussions of a proper moral and emotional decision.

In anticipation of a warm day, I donned a red tee shirt and a pair of grey cargo shorts and headed downstairs in search of the day's first cup of coffee.

As I entered the kitchen, I was delightfully surprised to find him, eyes twinkling, his face lit up with a broad Sean smile.

"Mornin' Dad! You're up pretty early. We just got started." I took in the sight of him. He was too cute for words. His thick dark hair was an unruly mess. Without me or someone else to remind him, he never thought about brushing or combing it. Either Windy or LC had fitted him out in a white canvass kitchen apron that was too big and, therefore, extended well below his knees. The tie string was wrapped numerous times around his thin waist or else it would have certainly been dragging along on the floor. His smile never faltered as he came to me extending his arms up to pull me down for a morning kiss. I silently thanked all the powers in the universe that he hadn't yet decided he was too old for such demonstrations of affection.

Smiling broadly, Windy called from across the room, "Hey scullery boy, cut out all that smooching and get that poor man a cup of coffee! "

With a grin, Sean scampered off to the big stainless urn. As he filled my mug the wonderful smell of the steaming hot coffee filled my nostrils and brought a smile to my face.

"Doc Swaim is taking all the boys over to the south shore for fishing lessons this morning Sean. Do you want to go with them or do you want to do something else since you've already been 'professorized'?"

"No, I'd like to go with the guys. Maybe I can learn more stuff or maybe I can help out. Either way, it'll still be fishin' so you know it'll be fun."

I nodded to him and sat down with my coffee. He reached down and, with his fingertips, stroked the morning stubble on my cheek. Looking up at him I was greeted with a mischievous little grin. "Don't go getting any ideas about growin' a beard Dad." And then he giggled. "Well, I gotta get back to my kitchen. See ya later." And with that, he he gave me a kiss, spun around and was off.

Shortly after breakfast, Doc Swaim and John took the boys on the short hike around the edge of the cove and out to the southern shore of the lake. I'd made certain they each had identical rods and reels, selected by the Professor himself, waiting for them when we got here and I knew before the day was over, each of them… even the two beginners… would be more than proficient in using them.

I had to control my urge to giggle when I saw that Sean had brought along the oversized fishing hat from Fish Camp back home. Apparently, for him at least, its magic was still potent.

I had stayed behind this morning because I had some business loose ends I wanted to tie up so that I could enjoy the rest of our stay in peace.

Sitting up on the wrap around balcony/deck sipping on a glass of single malt I was having a conference call with Phil and Walter as the late morning sun filtered through the nearby tree tops warming my face.

After we'd concluded all the business I'd been concerned about, Walter said, "Eric, when you get back, we should meet as soon as possible. Barry has come up with a proposal for the adoption cover story that's so good… well, I don't want to steal his thunder. We'll let him present it to you. It's pure genius… the guy never ceases to amaze me!"

"Also Eric," Uncle Phil cut in "You were so busy getting ready for your trip, we never got the chance to talk after we got back from the National Park. We'd both like to have a conversation with you about that young man, Chris."

"Man, you two have really got me curious now!" I was smiling. "We'll get together on all this first thing when I get back and Walter, I've been thinking, I'd like Richard to start attending our meetings from now on as well as Barry so they're always up to speed. OK?"

After disconnecting with them, I got up to make myself another drink. As I was doing so, the phone rang. With a shrug, I answered it. "Little E?" said a gruff deep voice on the other end causing me to break into a grin. Very few people in the world knew me well enough to call me by my childhood nickname but this fellow was certainly one of them.

"Commodore! I KNEW you'd spot me broadsiding your beach yesterday! How are you?"

George 'Commodore' Tipton had been headmaster at an exclusive boy's boarding school in Vermont many, many years ago until one day he purchased a very lucky lottery ticket.

Leaving the world of private education, he'd purchased the 25% of the land around Osa Largo that my family didn't own and had built Camp West Wind. It was an all summer residence camp for boys 11 to 16. Half of the campers came from well-to-do families; the other half were underprivileged boys set up with 'camperships'. More than half of these came from funds provided by my family trust.

My father, and now I, had great faith in the return these opportunities provided to society in general. A summer at West Wind was a truly life-changing experience especially for a low income boy from the city. Many lives had been turned around and many fine young minds re-directed and saved by a summer on the lake with the Commodore and his crew.

"Watching through my binoculars yesterday, it appeared as though your bow rider was filled with boys! Are you going into competition with me?"

"I wouldn't dare try that, Commodore… you'd scuttle and keel haul me!" I then filled him in regarding Sean, our new relationship and about the reason the whole group of boys was up here with me.

"Well then, how about you bring your crew over to camp on Tuesday morning? Based upon what you've told me, we won't have any swimming races. We know better than to go up against ringers, but I'll bet we can find some things for your boys to occupy themselves. Maybe they'd enjoy an overnight here at the camp eh?"

"We'd be delighted and I'll personally be very happy to see you again… oh, and I've got Doctor Swaim up here with us. I know he'll be glad to see you as well. We'll be there by three bells of the forenoon watch."

This, of course, was an antique nautical term from the old days of wooden sailing ships which roughly translated to 9:30 AM.

During the off-season, the Commodore spent most of his time on his boat in the Florida Keys. He'd bestowed the title 'Commodore' upon himself and, even though he rarely set sail very far from his berthing, he relished his self-created image as a 'crusty Old Salt'.

I hung up the phone and took a long sip from my drink thinking to myself that this trip was turning into a better and better adventure for the boys. Propping my feet up on the railing of the deck, I drained my glass and leaned back in my chair.

I must have drifted off to sleep quickly because the next thing I knew, I was waking up to the raucous sounds from below. The mighty fishermen were returning and they sounded happy and excited.

The fishing lessons had been a huge success and each boy had caught several fish all of which had been carefully removed from the hook and restored to the environment of the lake. The Professor (as he always did) had explained the principle of catch and release and, since no fish were required for any meals today, the fishermen's mercy was across the board.

It also turned out that Doc Swaim had announced that should LC and Windy require fish for eating at some point during the week, it would be Sean's duty to instruct the other boys in the art of cleaning fish… a prospect that apparently had met with mixed reaction from the boys. The consensus being that it sounded like a disgusting job.

The dinner table was filled with accounts of each boy's individual and shared exploits and Doc had proudly declared them each now skilled enough to fish on their own with no further assistance required from him or John. I learned that John's contribution to the day had been issuing words of encouragement as he drank beer and manned the net as required. He had also (with Sean's help as the day's 'kitchen slave') laid out and supervised lunch.

As the conversation came to a slight lull, I stood up, wine glass in hand and declared, "I propose a toast… to the Seven Fishing Samurai. May your exploits always be successful!" This was greeted with hearty and energetic shouts of agreement from all of those around the table.

When dinner was over, the table cleared and everyone was gathered in front of the fire, Windy and LC began what was to become a nightly ritual during the trip. They announced that Sean's day of servitude in the kitchen was over and that he was now officially 'graduated' from 'kitchen slave' to 'Snooze Boy', meaning he didn't have to get up early to help out and could, therefore, snooze a bit.

They then presented him with an apron that Windy had decorated himself with a marvelous cartoon of Sean scrubbing out a huge greasy pot. All done in permanent fabric paint, it had his name at the top. It turned out that they did this for each boy as his turn came about… a treasured memento of a not so very hard day's work.

I announced that tomorrow we were taking the big pontoon boat out onto the lake to try out everyone's fishing skills for real. As the lake was only lightly fished all year, I knew some exciting experiences were waiting out there for them.

The evening ended with Doc telling his first story of the trip. In the dim light in front of the dying fire, he told the story of the 'Windigo'. It was a spooky story based upon a real Indian legend but greatly embellished by the skilled story-teller and when he'd finished, seven subdued little boys kept very close together as they made their way up the stairs to bed.

The five of us were sitting in front of the fire sipping our drinks and talking. After about an hour had passed I said, "Doc that was a pretty scary story you told tonight. I think I'll go on up and make certain everything is OK with the kids.

I climbed the stairs quietly trying not to make noise in case they were all actually asleep although I doubted very much that I would find that to be the case.

As I stepped onto the landing for the third floor loft where they were all bunked together, I heard muffled whispers and subdued giggles. The hall was totally dark and, with this as my shield, I peered into the room.

It was lit only by the moonlight streaming through the glass of the rear wall but the sky on this clear night at this elevation was remarkably bright and I could clearly see that all seven boys were grouped together. They were completely naked and most of them were kneeling as they watched something excitedly. They were watching Mike who was on the floor lying stretched out and Sean who was industriously masturbating him.

"Three more to go after Mikey, Sean," came a whisper. I was pretty certain it was Bulldog.

"Remember, we all agreed. The kitchen Boy has to be the pump boy before his day is really over." There was a round of muted agreement.

Suddenly Mike's body began to buck and his arms were flailing as he moaned in pleasure trying not to make too much noise. The boys giggled in approval as Mike experienced his climax. After a few moments, he slowly, sat up and scooted over to the side.

"That was great!" he said… louder than he'd intended and was assaulted by several muffled 'shush' noises.

Little Charlie slid over into the center of the group and lay down taking Mike's place. "My turn." He said with a giggle.

Nodding, Sean coated his hand from a bottle that, even in the dim light, I recognized as baby oil. I smiled to myself; someone had thought ahead, that was for sure.

Without any fanfare, Sean reached down to the other boy's crotch and began a series of motions that would be recognizable to any male human being in the course of the existence of our species. Little boys learning about and enjoying the new-found pleasures their maturing bodies were capable of producing. What could be more beautiful and at the same time funnier?

"Mmmmmm. Good Sean, Keep it slow like that."

"Yeah, enjoy it Charlie," someone murmured. "Remember, YOU'RE kitchen boy tomorrow so you're the pump boy tomorrow night."

Shaking my head, I turned and headed back to the stairs as giggles of agreement and amusement issued from the room. Smiling, I thought to myself that those aprons were going to have a much more significant meaning to those boys than Windy and LC would ever know.

***

Much later, I lay in bed looking out the glass wall enjoying the bright night sky. I wasn't certain what time it was but I knew it was very late. I just couldn't fall asleep. I wasn't certain if it was the nap I'd taken that afternoon, because I had so many different thoughts floating around in my mind or if I was simply achingly lonely without him curled up against me but, whatever the cause, I was wide awake when I heard the door to my room slowly open.

He stepped in and glided silently and swiftly up to my bedside. Though the room was strange to him, he moved with surety guided by the adequate visibility provided by the subdued light of the mountain sky.

I said nothing and didn't move a muscle as I watched him slip out of his underpants, turn down a corner of the covers and slide into bed. I felt his smooth warm skin as he squirmed up against me and it was then that I turned my head fully to him. At once he was on his knees alongside me and he bent gracefully down to kiss me tenderly.

"Sean! What?" I half asked in a horse whisper.. He placed his finger against my lips and whispered, "Shhh. Miss you Eric." And with that, he slipped down between my legs gently urging them apart.

I felt his hot little lips wrap themselves around my raging hard cock and his fingers softly knead that part of my shaft that he couldn't yet take in. He silently worked me into a burning frenzy that could only have one conclusion I gripped and squeezed his little shoulders as he continued bobbing and licking even after I'd exploded into his mouth.

He slid back up my body and kissed me again, long and passionately, then lay down on top of me; head resting on my chest as I wrapped him in my arms and stroked his insanely soft skin.

When I awoke, the sky was grey and he was gone. I got up and walked to the glass wall gazing out over the woods silently asking the questions that sprang from my heart. Was I praying? I wasn't certain. I only knew that if there were gods that cared to hear, I wanted to express my thankfulness for allowing me to love so deeply and be so loved in return.

"Can you hear me?" I softly spoke the question to the universe. "Do you know just how grateful I am?"

Chapter 3

We'll get some wisdom from the Commodore

Was there ever a more foolish concept than 'self-reliance'? The idea that a person can succeed indeed, even excel solely by virtue of one's own efforts, is the pinnacle of pretense.

Every breath we take, every movement we make, each precious thought and dream that fills our mind happens by virtue of the oneness and all-encompassing power of the universe around us. We no more exist or act independently than the moon shines of its own accord.

Moonlight is the reflection of the sun's brightness. Our lives are the reflection of the great force that drives all of creation.

The laughter and excited chatter of happy busy boys echoed over the calm water of Raccoon Cove and could be heard clearly from within the forest though the sound was muted by the tall trees that also hid them from view.

I leaned back into the hard but comfortable surface of the large, ancient Adirondack chair, causally picking at a bubble in the paint on the wide wooden arm. I absently wondered how many layers of navy blue paint lay below this one… how many generations of young eager hands had brushed on a new coat of color to 'spiff up' the Commodore's porch furniture.

The four of us were seated on the long wooden porch in roughly matching chairs sipping large glasses of lemonade generously fortified with moonshine from the Commodore's own still that he operated from a small outbuilding he'd had constructed in the woods decades ago.

The shady porch looked directly over the beach that (aside from the boathouse and dock) made up the entire near shore of the private cove, The large old house which had been here when the Commodore originally purchased the property, had been added to over the years in a ramshackle fashion that displayed absolutely no respect for the building's original Victorian architecture.

It was from here that the hearty old man held court over Camp West Wind and all of its temporary summer citizens. He lived in three rooms on the second floor and the remainder of the rooms in the seemingly slapped-together building provided space to house the small paid camp staff as well as offices, camp library, the dispensary and the famous top floor 'observation deck' complete with wrap-around 'widow's walk'. Almost since the camp had been created, someone had begun calling it the 'Castle' and that had eventually become its official name.

If you were fortunate enough to have been invited inside, you would have found the walls were lined with artifacts of past adventures and triumphs… signed and mounted canoe paddles, broken (and intact) tennis rackets with carefully lettered legends painted upon the wooden handles and rims, inscribed baseballs (all dirt brown and well used), countless handmade trophies, awards and presentations, paintings and drawings (some quite well done) and photographs… hundreds and hundreds of photographs of posed groups and candid activities each filled with the obviously sun bronzed faces of smiling boys, most of whom had by now been overtaken by time and were grow into men.

All of these spoke more eloquently than any words could possibly have of over thirty five years of successful and happy enterprise here on the shores of this wild, almost pristine lake.

John took a sip from his 'lemonade' and grinned. I could tell he was enjoying the Commodore's concoction but I wondered to myself if he realized just how high the alcohol content was in the old man's homemade hooch. Ah, well, I reflected, it's not like he's going to get behind the wheel of a car tonight.

We had been discussing the Commodore's unique approach to running his boy's camp. It was a system that he constantly maintained was just a lazy man's way of getting things done with the minimum amount of effort required on his part.

Doc Swaim on the other hand, always insisted that the Commodore's approach was really a brilliant and particularly successfully system of education and character development. 'An experiment in creating the perfect society' he called it with just a touch of amusement.

"Horse feathers, David!" the old man argued every time the subject came up. "It's nothing of the sort. I just point them in the right direction, give 'em a guideline or two and let go. I don't have to intervene until they bang into a wall or something."

I smiled secretly as I privately reflected on the old man's comfortable familiarity. Even though I had years ago grown to be considerably taller than he was, he still insisted upon using the childhood nickname, 'Little E', that my grandfather had long ago bestowed upon me in order to differentiate me from my father (who was also Eric) whenever he was speaking.

In the same way, he was the only person I knew of who called Doctor Swaim 'David'. No one else, in my circle of acquaintances at least, would have used the big man's first name. Anyone who tried would have immediately appeared presumptuous.

Curiously though, anyone foolish or ignorant enough to address the old man as anything but 'Commodore' did so upon pain of swift and terrible chastisement. He'd bestowed the title upon himself and heaven help the fool who ignored it.

The Commodore's system was, when viewed superficially, remarkably simple: each Camper owed his success and enjoyment to his fellow Campers. In turn, each was responsible for ensuring the success and enjoyment of the others. The individual's growth was the group's growth, the individual's happiness was the group's happiness and the Group's pride was the individual's pride.

They learned this when they first came to Camp… usually at 11 years old although occasionally some older first time campers would be accepted for the summer. Pride was encouraged, prejudice was not allowed. There was no bullying, no elitism or cliques. Nor were there any privileges based upon age or family wealth.

All campers dressed the same, ate the same, played the same and worked the same.

Except on those rare occasions when they had to interact with an adult on an official basis such as a medical problem or an outside family emergency, last names were left behind. The boys operated on first names and usually (after time) acquired nicknames that were their sole identity among their peers.

A boy stepped off the bus at West Wind on the first day essentially reborn… a new person with a slate that was completely clean. No reputation to live up to or run away from, no boost from family or friends on the outside. A new boy discovered right away that there was no real hierarchy here. There were adult counselors… paid staff who were hired as instructors in the various skills, sailing, and swimming, water skiing, camping and such. These were teachers though and not disciplinarians.

Discipline came from within the body of the Camper population. Ad hoc meetings and even 'interventions' were assembled when necessary to correct a person's behavior but the boys learned to do so fairly, gently and constructively. It was peer pressure in the very finest sense of the word. Only on extraordinarily rare occasions was a miscreant required to appear before the Commodore for correction. Such sessions were private, long and (up to this point at least) always successful.

Pretty much all activity was shared among the age groups and older boys were expected to help and encourage the younger ones. Having said that though, it was not uncommon to find younger boys assisting older ones with tasks or skills that required assistance and a seeming reversal of roles.

It was not unusual, for instance, to find a younger boy in the Castle Library helping an older boy with his reading skills. It was a simple case of lending strength where and when it was needed. There was no shame or loss-of-face associated with accepting help among the boys of any age. This almost big-brother-little-brother relationship between the campers created an extraordinary bonding and sense of group and personal pride.

The younger kids reveled in the attention and genuine concern of the older boys and the older boys felt a sense of affection and pride in the achievements and growth of the younger ones. It was a lifestyle of co-operation and character building that the Commodore, in his usual understated way called, 'Stooping to Soar'. His metaphor was a simple one: when you stoop down to help someone, your spirit soars like an eagle… and it worked. Year after year after year it worked.

Once a week, every single camper had a private meeting with the Commodore in his office. These were highly personal counseling sessions and were treasured moments for each of the boys.

This was why my father had long ago established a fund to provide 'Camperships' so that selected underprivileged young men might spend summers here. A boy who had completed his first summer at the camp was encouraged to come again every year that he was age eligible. If he was a campership recipient, his 'tuition' was guaranteed for his entire eligibility.

It was remarkable how, despite the boys' widely different backgrounds, each returning camper slipped back into the West Wind state of mind and culture almost immediately. The Commodore often joked that if he allowed his boys to return for as long as they wanted, he'd have a cabin full of 60 year-old campers in no time.

The truth was, though, that they DID return often. They came here and to his boat in Florida. They wrote him constantly and even telephoned often. The walls of his office here in the Castle were covered with photographs of young men and men who were no longer all that young. Some were of the person alone and some with families… obviously their own. I'd once asked him if he remembered all these kids who had passed through the camp and his answer was a quick and definite;

"Every last one and I'm proud of them all."

Our boys had been immediately absorbed into the camper population as soon as they'd stepped onto the dock from my bow rider. They were whisked off to participate in various activities and the next time we'd seen them had been lunch time in the big mess hall. By then they were talking laughing and giggling with the campers as if they'd been there for weeks.

During lunch the Commodore had announced that we were all spending the night (first I'd heard of it) and that there was going to be a big campfire this evening. After lunch the Commodore had led John, Doc Swaim and me to the big porch to enjoy his 'lemonade'.

As we were talking I noticed the Commodore peering across the water with interest. Matching the direction of his gaze I saw a canoe enter the cove obviously headed for the beach.

"Hmmmph," the old man grunted as he rose from his chair and refilled all of our glasses from the big pitcher on the table by the door. "Prepare to be boarded. We've got visitors or so it would seem. It's hard to get lost on this lake and since the only other property owner is you, Little E, I suspect these two are mine."

We watched as the canoe made its way across the cove and beached in the sand next to the dock. As the two occupants stepped out and pulled the little craft higher up onto the land, it became obvious that one was a young man and the other a shapely young woman. They appeared to be in their mid-twenties and the young man was talking excitedly gesturing and pointing. Finally, he took the woman's hand and together they walked across the sand and up the gently sloping lawn towards the porch where we sat.

They climbed the four wooden steps and stopped just at the edge of the porch. The young man looked at the Commodore with a wide smile and a curious expression. "You haven't changed a bit' Sir." he said.

The old man remained seated but he placed his glass down, gently drying his palm on the leg of his jeans. "Well YOU certainly have. You've grown another inch at least, I'll bet you've put on 10 or 15 pounds [5-7 kg] and except for that caterpillar you've got growing under your nose, you look pretty good, Skeeter."

The smile on the young man seemed the stretch beyond the limits of his face's capacity to contain it and though he, self-consciously, fingered his mustache, his delight was obvious. "You recognize me? You remember me?"

"Well of course I remember you." The old man rose from his chair and clapped the young man on the back before throwing an arm around his neck pulling him into a hug. "I don't forget any of my boys and, even if I did, how could you think I could forget you? You still hold the camp record for the most marshmallows downed in one sitting you know. I never could figure out how a skinny little kid like you could do that."

Blushing with pleasure, the young man indicated the woman at his side. "Commodore, this is Mandy. We're going to be married next year after I graduate and I… well I… Well Sir, I just wanted her to meet you."

He turned to me and said, "Mr. Tucker, I hope you don't mind. I parked our van next to your RV back at your cabin. LC told me that we'd just missed you this morning so, we launched our canoe from your beach and we've spent the day paddling across the lake. It's every bit as big as I remember it."

It wasn't surprising that he correctly guessed who I was and knew all about my cabin. If he was a Camp alum, he'd know it well. All of my lake property was used freely by the West Wind boys. They camped on my 'sandies' and often used my dock and beach. They all knew LC and Windy who could always be counted on to provide snacks and cold drinks to any campers who were at our end of the lake.

My road was also more accessible than the bumpy poorly maintained route to the camp so I wasn't at all surprised he'd decided to park on my property and canoe over.

"Well, Enrique, make yourself useful," said the Commodore gruffly but not unkindly "Drag two more chairs over here… one for Mandy and one for you, then go get your gear out of the canoe and stow it in the big room at the end of the hall on the third floor. I'm not being presumptuous here but I am assuming that you two don't mind sharing a bed."

Though obviously pleased and surprised that the old man not only remembered his nickname but his given name as well, Skeeter began a half stammered protest.

"Nonsense boy! Of course you two will stay here at the castle. By God, you're very welcome here! Anyway, you couldn't possibly row back across the lake before dark today."

Looking so happy that I thought he might actually cry, Skeeter dragged two more of the big wooden chairs from the end of the porch and then ran off down to the beach to get their packs from the canoe. The Commodore indicated that Mandy should sit in one of the chairs and offered her a glass of 'lemonade'.

"Thanks, I'd love one," she said in an almost musical voice and I noticed her light blue eyes topped by naturally dark lashes, full red lips and a cute sprinkle of sun enhanced freckles on her nose and cheeks. I gave her a quick once over evaluation. While I am most definitely gay in my sexual orientation, I can certainly spot and appreciate beauty in a woman when I see it.

Mandy was indeed a pretty thing… long tan legs led up to a tight firm ass of very pleasing roundness enhanced by her very short cut-off denim shorts. Her hips were attractively wide and, while I have no sense of appreciation for female breasts, hers were nicely shaped without being too small or so large as to be grotesque. She was currently wearing her wheat gold hair in braids that gave her a clean natural 'cuteness'. All in all, I couldn't help thinking to myself; "Good for you, Skeeter".

While the Commodore went into the Castle to mix another pitcher of drinks and bring out two more glasses, John, the Professor and I introduced ourselves. Skeeter was back on the porch carrying two backpacks just as the Commodore emerged with his tray.

"Scoot upstairs and stow that gear boy!" he said. "No lemonade for you 'till your chores are done."

With a grin, Skeeter replied, "Aye, Aye Commodore!" and pushed his way through the door lugging the packs.

The Commodore, smiling openly now, re-filled all of our glasses and offered a fresh one to Mandy. The lovely young woman took a long sip and suddenly arched an eyebrow at the old man. "Why Commodore," she said with a smile, "you're just going to HAVE to show me the tree you grow these lemons on." We all broke out laughing and she took another (noticeably smaller) sip. Leaning forward, she patted the old man on the knee.

"I can't tell you how pleased and honored I am to meet you. Ricky just adores you, you know. I've known him for over two years and almost every word out of his mouth is about you: 'the Commodore says this' and the Commodore would do that'… he believes you saved his life… that you made him the man he is today."

"That's nonsense!" the old man blustered. "He made himself the man he is today. This is a summer camp, Mandy. I let boys learn to do things like fish and swim… that's all I do."

She looked at him with blue unflinching eyes. "Sure, and Einstein just did arithmetic." Her lovely smile softened but did not hide the seriousness of her expression.

"If you only could have seen… if you only knew what you've inspired him to do. First, he saved his cousins from the streets and then dozens of other boys as well… pulled them away from gangs… taught them self-respect and respect for others… taught them the value of education the value of human dignity. He's a hero in the barrio. It's like a big snow ball and it all started with you."

It was obvious the old man was about to say something in protest just as Skeeter emerged onto the porch and took the vacant seat next to his fiance. "Saved by the bell!" the old man muttered under his breath. "So Enrique, enlighten me… by my reckoning you should have graduated by now. What are you up to?"

"Well, Sir, I did graduate almost three years ago. After earning my BA, I decided that I had an interest and an aptitude for the law, so I got myself admitted to law school and I'll graduate early next year. Then, of course, I'll have to pass the BAR and THEN, I suppose, I'll need to figure out what I want to do with my shiny new credentials."

"Enrique Flores, Attorney at Law," the Commodore intoned. "That sounds light years away from the skinny little 11 year-old who thought he had to fight every kid in Camp over every little imagined atrocity. Come to think of it, besides the marshmallows, you may also hold the Camp record for most and earliest interventions and you certainly were among the quickest to have to come and spend a scary afternoon with me, eh?"

Instead of smiling as I would have expected, Skeeter's face became cold serious. "That session in your office and everything that happened to me here, since then, changed my life, Commodore! No, if the truth were to be told, SAVED my life. If not for this place… if not for you, I'm certain I would either be dead or in prison. That's where I was headed on the fast track when they plucked me off the streets and sent me up here that first summer. What a piece of work I was! The very best I could have expected from life was some dead-end menial job and living every day just to get drunk or high."

"Instead, I'm a West Wind kid! I'm making something of myself and I owe it all to you. Every day I try to live up to what you taught me here. I'm making an effort to… to stoop to soar."

The old man smiled and reached over and silently patted the young man's shoulder. "Well Enrique… 'or do you prefer Ricky now… ?"

"Wait!" Mandy suddenly inserted herself into the conversation "I think we should go with Skeeter, and I REALLY want to know the story behind that nickname."

"Well Mandy, as the Commodore, I'm not supposed to know about how the boys get their nicknames here at camp but if I recall correctly, it has something to do with the excessive number of insect bites on a little boy's butt and several bottles of moisturizing lotion supposedly used to…"

"OK! That's enough of that!" Skeeter quickly interrupted the old man's story. "I think 'Ricky' will do just fine. Some stories are best left untold." The young man was actually blushing.

My interest had been piqued by the young couple and I couldn't help but comment, "Ricky, if you seriously aren't sure what you want to do with your Law Degree, I'd like to talk to you about it. I think I may have several ideas that may interest you. Let me have your phone number and maybe we can speak in a couple of weeks."

He and Mandy exchanged glances and, with a smile, he gave me his contact information.

At this point John glanced at his watch and stood up just a bit unsteadily. "Well, I've got to go. I promised a bunch of the boys that I'd umpire a baseball game over at the field and if I don't hurry I'll be late."

We watched as he walked down the steps and around the building, Professor Swaim turned to me, "Do you think we should let him officiate a sporting event in that condition?"

Before I could speak, the Commodore snorted, "Let him be. The boys have seen the effect that lemonade has on adult counselors before and I think watching him try to call balls and strikes with that snoot full might be the funniest thing that's happened around here in weeks."

***

All the boys were seated upon low benches made of split logs in a semi-circle around the enormous pile of wood stacked log cabin style in the big ring of stones. Dusk was fading fast and the sky was a deep purple as the campfire area hummed with anticipation. This was only the second big campfire of the season and the little first-year campers especially were tingling with excitement. It had not taken very long at West Wind for all of these jaded little boys to learn that there were better, more exciting things to do in this world than just TV and video games.

While there was still just enough light to see, on top of the hill overlooking the campfire clearing two of the older boys appeared. They were naked save for very brief loin cloths and they wore feathers in their hair Indian warrior style. The twilight cloaked their features and they looked impressively mysterious from our vantage below them.

One held a bow while the other held a quiver of arrows. This boy drew an arrow from the quiver and handed it to the archer who nocked it in the bow and drew it back. As he held it in this position the other boy held a small flicker of fire (no doubt produced by a BIC lighter) to the tip of the arrow and it burst into flame. With hardly a pause the bowman released the arrow and it flew true into the center of the enormous pile of wood.

Instantly, the entire stack was engulfed in flames eliciting 'oohs' and 'ahhhs' from the assembled boys. It was of course a very old campfire trick. The tip of the arrow was wrapped with a cloth. It and a good deal of the pile of firewood had been pre-soaked in kerosene which caused instant combustion but, to a little boy, in the wild woods on a dark night, it was nothing short of magic. Hell I was impressed and I knew how it was done.

The program was kicked off by a rousing talk from the Commodore which was sprinkled with enough humor as to have everyone laughing. This was followed by a series of skits that had been prepared by several of the boys. The funniest of these being one that satirized the adult councilors and the Commodore as well. This little charade was liberally sprinkled with references to 'lemonade' and everyone was roaring with laughter.

To my total surprise, this skit was followed by Sean and Mandy. Sean had a guitar that he'd obviously borrowed from someone. He strummed a few introductory chords and suddenly his and Mandy's voices joined in a perfect harmony as they sang the jaunty tune;

Slow down, you move too fast
You gotta make the morning last
Just kickin' down the cobblestones
Lookin' for fun and
Feelin' groovy…

I was stunned. The performance was wonderful but, for the life of me, I didn't know when they could have gotten together and rehearsed and surely, based upon how well they sang together, there must have been some rehearsal. I also marveled at the fact that they… for that matter all of the campers, knew and enjoyed a song that had been written and recorded so many years before any of them had been born. They wound up having to repeat the chorus several times as everyone clapped and sang along. The power of music never ceased to impress me.

The Commodore then rose and announced that as a special treat one of the world's greatest story tellers was going to close the campfire with a ghost story. There was a loud hoot of pleasure from my little group and a voice I recognized as Rico called out, "Yea Professor!"

I was sitting close enough to hear as the Commodore whispered in Doc Swaim's ear, "Now David, try not to scare the shit out of them. The Camp laundry can only handle so many loads a day."

***

We were walking down a fairly level path through the woods trying to stay side-by-side whenever the vegetation overgrowing the trail allowed. The Professor and the other boys were out on the pontoon boat fishing, John was back at the cabin in the game room playing pool with Windy and LC. I knew John well enough to know that he'd take it easy on those two but, he wouldn't lose either.

Sean had plead an upset stomach and stayed behind but, after they had left, he admitted that he was lonely for some time just with me.

Barely able to hold back the tears I felt welling in my eyes, I pulled him to me into a tight long hug. He clung to me just as tightly and as I rubbed my hand up and down his back feeling his tight young muscles below the smooth cloth of his blue tee shirt, I could feel him breathing deeply as he nuzzled his cheek against my chest.

I looked down at his sandaled feet. "Go put on your sneakers so we can go on a little hike. There's something I want to show you."

I, of course, knew exactly where we were headed but Sean didn't have a clue. It didn't really matter to him. We were together and the whole world was interesting to him. He'd already paused at least a dozen times on the trail to examine some interesting plant, rock or insect. It was all new and exciting to him and, through his eyes, it became so to me as well.

At the moment he was walking ahead of me on the trail and I enjoyed the view of his wonderful little ass moving in his navy blue shorts. The sunshine, filtered through the forest canopy, dappled him and the path around him with splatters of light and I thought to myself that he really dances, he never just walks.

I know that he heard it at least as soon as I did but, not knowing what lay ahead, it didn't register with him yet. I knew that it was just about 100 yards around the next bend in the trail.

"Sean, stop," I said softly. He turned his head and looked at me quizzically. "My surprise is just up ahead. Will you close your eyes and promise not to open them until I tell you?"

"Why Dad?"

"Because I want you to see it all at once the way it should first be seen." I scooped him up in my arms and walked toward the sound. It was hidden from the trail but the noise was a trusted guide to the spot. "No peeking now."

I could have made this short walk blindfolded. I'd discovered it while out on a hike alone when I was about 10 years old and I'd first brought Kyle here when he was 6.

As I stepped into the clearing, I set him down onto his feet. "Sounds like a waterfall Dad." he said. I looked down and he looked so cute with his eyes closed so tightly that his nose was scrunched up.

"Smart kid," I answered. "Go ahead, open them."

I heard him draw a breath in wonder and then he released a wordless sound of pure delight.

Thanks to the abundant rain and the snow-melt runoff from the higher elevations the waterfall was tumbling from the rocks overhead in full force. It splashed down into an almost crystal clear pool of water surrounded by large smooth flat rocks. The sun shone upon the water unobstructed though just feet away from the edge of the little pond stood tall leafy trees and high growing ferns screening the little oasis providing perfect privacy.

"Gosh it's beautiful!" Sean exclaimed as he knelt down at the water's edge and dipped a hand into the clear liquid.

"We used to call this 'the grotto' though it's not really a grotto in the proper sense. When we wanted to be alone and away from Dad and Mom, we'd hike down here and spent the entire afternoon swimming and lying on the rocks soaking up the sun."

"Can we go swimming now?" He was looking at me with his beautiful blue/green eyes twinkling.

"Of course, silly. Put your clothes on that rock over there and…" I never finished the sentence. While I was speaking, he had pulled off his tee shirt and stepped out of his shorts. His briefs followed almost instantly and he was sitting on one of the mossy banks pulling off his sneakers before I had even shed my shirt.

I barely had time to admire the view of his glorious nakedness in this exotically beautiful setting before he was in the water with a splash. "Brrrr! The water's really cold!" he called out.

"Sure it is. It's run-off from up on the mountain. Give it a few minutes, you'll get used to it." As I spoke I stepped out of my boxer briefs kicked off my moccasins and dove into the pool with him.

"Come on," I tugged at his arm "Let's swim through it to the other side."

"What?"

"I'll show you. Follow me." I led him to the face of the falling water and stepped into it pulling him along with me. In two steps we were on the other side looking through the translucent curtain of the waterfall. He looked up at me with a dazzling 'Sean smile' almost hopping with excitement.

"Wow! How cool is that? I would never have thought there would be a space behind the water! What a secret hide-out this would make."

"That's what Kyle and I used to say too. Along with the cave on Hawk's Hill, this was one of our special places that we never told the 'grown-ups' about." I felt a sudden wave of melancholy wash over me and I added, "Except… now I guess I'm a grown up and it's almost like I shouldn't be here."

In an instant he had jumped up on me wrapping his arms around my neck and his legs around my waist and he was furiously kissing my eyes and nose and, finally, my mouth. Pulling his head back he looked intently into my face.

"Now it's you who's being silly. You'll never be a grown-up, Eric… not really. You're just grown up enough to be my Dad but you're not one of those old guys. Don't ever think that can happen. I won't let it."

He kissed me again and I squeezed him tightly to me slowly stroking his amazingly smooth skin. Finally I said in what was barely a whisper, "You're right. How can I ever grow up when I've got you in my life?" He looked at me and giggled.

We swam and splashed in the little pond for about 30 minutes before the coolness of the water tired us out and we stretched out side by side on one of the big flat rocks. I was absently stroking his thigh and leg with my finger tips and he was making cute little noises of contentment.

"Well, little man, we're going home tomorrow. Have you enjoyed yourself up here?"

"Oh man it was such a good time I almost wish we never had to leave! I hope we can come back again. Can we?"

"Silly, we can come anytime you want. I… WE… own the place you know."

"Oh yeah." And he giggled… a light happy sound. "I keep forgettin' stuff like that."

"Tell me Sean, what did you think of West Wind Camp?"

"It was really neat. All the kids get along and look out for each other and take care of each other… it was just like the nest except its outside. I liked it a lot."

"The nest Sean? I thought you didn't like the nest."

He sat up and was looking down at me. "Why would you think that Eric? The nest is a good place. nest kids are safe and they take care of each other… watch out for each other just like at the Camp."

"But… but you were so happy when I told you that you were never going to go back there Sean."

"That's because it meant that I got to stay with you, Eric… Dad… Eric. I don't hate the nest, I just love you more, don't you see?" I pulled him down to me and kissed him before he lay back onto the rock.

"I'm beginning to I think." In my mind I was realizing that I needed to find out a great deal more about the actual culture of the nest before I began my attempt to tear it down or change it.

"You better stop that. We gotta go back to the cabin soon, Eric." As he spoke I realized that my wandering hand had begun to slowly stroke his now erect little penis.

"Oh, it'll be all right, little man. We can wash you off before we head back… no one will ever know."

He giggled again and began to move his hips in time to my strokes.

Chapter 4

The adoption cover story, and more people will join the Great Game

The pleasure of waking up in your own bed finding yourself snuggled against someone that you love cannot possibly be overstated.

It was one of those rare mornings that found me stirring into wakefulness while he still slept. He was pressed against me in what had become his normal sleeping position since the very first night we had shared a bed together… one leg thrown across my hip and one arm thrown across my chest.

For once my bladder wasn't demanding that I rise from bed immediately and so, I lay there looking at him watching his gentle deep breathing and listening to the cute little 'not quite snoring' noises that he made.

The sheet which had covered us both as we'd snuggled ourselves to sleep last night had become kicked and pulled down as we'd slept so that it rested barely covering the lower part of the crack of his wonderful little ass. I considered silently that this would have made a magnificent photograph if I could have left the bed without disturbing him and IF I had a camera handy. I quietly admonished myself for not following through on a resolution I'd made weeks ago to keep a camera near-by at all times.

As I watched him, his big, beautiful eyes slowly opened. His nose crinkled and his brow furrowed as he grudgingly emerged into awareness. Those stunning blue/green orbs focused on mine for a few brief moments as his face was fixed in that look of confusion that is worn by all the newly awakened. He blinked twice and performed a large, slow and silent yawn before rewarding me with a wide grin.

He slid over and was soon sitting on my abdomen, his legs straddling me on either side. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he looked down at me and spoke his morning greeting, "Mornin' Dad! Did you sleep as good as I did? Ain't it great to be back in our room in our own bed?"

Stifling my own yawn, I arched an eyebrow at him. "ISN'T it great to be back in our own room?" I said, correcting him.

"That's what I said; 'ain't it great to be back in our own room'!"

Typically, he was wiggling as he sat perched on me. Shaking my head in mock exasperation, I reached up and placed my index finger at the tip of his nose. "The problem, young man, is that I never know when you're fooling me or not."

He raised his eyebrows and opened his eyes wide while at the same time affecting his very best 'butter would melt in his mouth' expression. "Me Dad? Foolin'… ME?" and he couldn't keep in the giggle he was trying to squelch.

"Yes you… you… .IMP!" I pulled him down to me and kissed him and then, rolling over, I began to tickle him in the ribs. In seconds he was howling with laughter and gasping for breath at the same time. His arms and legs were flailing wildly and he twisted his torso in a vain attempt to escape my onslaught

"STOP! Dad! Dad stop! I haven't gone pee yet! You're gonna' make me wet the bed! STOP!"

I threw him across my shoulder and marched him swiftly into the bathroom. As we stood at the bowl side by side emptying our bladders, he was huffing and puffing trying his best to appear outraged. Looking down into the bowl he muttered, "You just wait til I'm as big as you are. It ain't fair." And he looked up at me with his best angry face. This lasted exactly two seconds.

He managed to mutter, "Well, it AIN'T!" before he burst out laughing. I bent over and kissed the top of his head. He took my hand and, pulling me along, he said, "Come on… our shower. Our GREAT WONDERFUL shower! It's been soooo long Dad!"

***

I was sitting at the table watching him and wondering just how he was able to eat breakfast, wiggle in his chair and talk a mile a minute as he gave Martha an account of our ten days in the mountains. We'd arrived back at Joyous Gaurde late last night after having dropped each of the other six boys home.

This was the first time he and Martha had seen each other in a while and the re-union was spectacular. Having grown up at the nest since he was four years old, Sean had been raised without any female influence (that he could remember). Despite this, there had been an instinctive bond between him and Martha that had been formed the first instant that they'd met and, at times like this, they were in a world altogether their own and no one else, including me really mattered. It was 'Sean and Martha time' and it was very special.

I listened with amusement to him tell the story as she sat smiling while he spoke. I chuckled inwardly as his story unfolded. While Sean didn't have a dishonest bone in his body and was completely without deceit, he was not exempt from exaggeration, especially if it made a story more interesting. In that regard, he was like every other little boy that ever lived.

Martha made the occasional comment or agreeable noise to keep his narrative flowing; and, now and then, she reached across the table and patted his arm or hand in encouragement as he continued his rapid discourse between mouthfuls of egg and toast.

Finally she rose from her chair and walked over kissing him tenderly on his cheek. "Sean, it sounds like you all had a wonderful time and I'm so happy for you but, Darlin', I'm also so happy that you're home for a while. Now excuse me, dear, because I've got to inventory the cupboard and the pantry… tomorrow is big shopping day you know. I'll see you later at lunch time."

"See you later Mrs. Edwards!" he said with a smile as she turned and left us alone.

"Now, little man," I said, "as we talked about last night, I've got a meeting with Walter and Uncle Phil today and I've asked Doctor Swaim to attend as well. I know you've got two projects you can work on without him and you've got a book to read as well. John said he'd be happy to come over later on and play '8 ball' with you in the game room and keep an eye on you if you want to hang around the pool. If you do hang around the pool remember… wear one of your swim suits. John isn't used to looking at little 12-year-old nudies."

He broke into a big smile and gestured at me with his fork. "Hey Dad, remember I never went naked swimming until you brought me here." At this he flashed an evil little boy grin. "You're the bad influence on me… I always been such a gooood boy!"

I got up and walked around to him hugging his neck and mussing his hair. "All good boys need bad influences every now and then, little man, just to make them interesting. I love you, have fun. I'll see you this afternoon sometime."

"Love you too Dad. See ya later!"

***

As I entered the big, new conference room, I noticed they were all seated waiting for me. With a nod and a smile to them, I took my seat in the big leather chair at the head of the table.

"Good morning guys. It's nice to see this big table filling up. I've asked Doctor Swaim to join us this morning because everything we're going to discuss here will affect Sean either directly or indirectly, and I'll not have us taking one step that could injure him or affect him adversely. No one in the world understands the boy emotionally better than the professor and, as most of you know, he isn't shy when it comes to expressing his opinions."

The big man smiled and Walter made no attempt to hide a loud chuckle.

"Well then, I guess our first order of business today is to discuss the project you've been working on, Barry. I understand from Walter and Phil that you've been a bit creative."

Barry acknowledged what I'd just said with a smile and a nod. He was a good looking young man perhaps a few years older than I was. His dark brown hair was naturally wavy to the extent that it gave the illusion of having been only casually brushed of combed. His hazel eyes glittered with humor and intelligence. I knew from meeting him in the past that he was tall and well-built though not overly muscled. His voice was a pleasant baritone with a very slight hint of a southern accent.

"Thank you Mr. Tucker. If I might direct everyone's attention to the screen on the wall, I think a few illustrations may help me explain my proposal more easily."

"Before you begin Barry, I need to make one thing very clear to you." He looked at me with a slightly concerned expression. "If you are good enough and talented enough to be sitting here at this table, then you certainly don't need to be calling me 'Mr. Tucker'. I'm Eric to everyone around this table and I'm certainly Eric to you… got it?"

He actually blushed but quickly regained his composure and responded, "Sure… err… thank you uh… Eric." He stood up and walked over to the screen on the wall with a control for the ceiling mounted projector in his hand.

"Now, my understanding of this project was that we want to conceive and, then put into effect an explanation, for your relatively sudden adoption of young Sean. One that would override any of the less than noble motivations that usually would or could be associated with the relationship between the many errr… 'clients' of the Academy and the individual boys that they choose to uh… associate with."

I could see that he was uncomfortable with the language regarding the actual secondary function of the Nesswell-Turnbridge Academy but I decided to let him wiggle with it a bit and therefore I just nodded in affirmation of his opening statement.

"After a quick examination of some basic facts, the solution struck me as relatively simple and it hinges around a long relationship between two remarkable women; your Mother and Sean's Grandmother."

I was puzzled and I said so, "Barry, I think you're mistaken here. To the best of my knowledge those two never met and, more likely than not, probably didn't even know of each others existence."

Barry glanced over at Walter, Uncle Phil and Richard and the four of them exchanged big knowing smiles. It was Walter who intervened, "Eric, some wise fellow once wrote that it's the winners who write the history books. One of the advantages of great wealth and power is having the resources to retell the past for your own purposes and convenience. Our friend Barry here is a master at 'factual revisionism'… he's an 'historical repairman' par excellence. Barry, tell this poor man the story."

"Thanks Walter. Now Mr. Tuck… . err Eric… it is a well-known fact that among her many other wonderful attributes, your Mother was very interested in and involved with the arts. Sixteen years ago in March, she attended a week-long seminar in Denver." He clicked the control and the image of a program for a Fine Arts seminar appeared on the screen. Barry pointed to a part of the program.

"One of the speakers on the first day was Dr. Karen Harris, well known authority on medieval French art and Sean's future grandmother. As you can see, she presented a lecture on the murals and frescoes of the early Romanesque cathedral of Saint Savin sur Gartempe and the frescoes decorating the 9th century Baptistery at Poitiers. Your Mother, Alice Tucker, was fascinated not just by the subject, but by the personality of the lecturer. They met for lunch the next day and by the end of the week they had developed a strong friendship."

"While they only met again once or twice a year at similar seminars, they carried out regular correspondence over the course of the years. They shared each others pleasure with their children… your mother wrote extensively about you and Kyle and Dr. Harris… Karen… shared her joy in her daughter's dedication to medicine, her love for and eventual marriage to Doctor Douglas and the subsequent birth of her grandson; Sean."

"There was a heartbreaking series of letters concerning the hospital bombing in Uganda and the deaths of Sean's parents followed by increasingly up-beat correspondence as Karen took on the responsibility of raising the boy."

"It was about a year after she had begun raising little Sean that she wrote to your Mother talking about her concern regarding her ability to see the task to completion. She admitted to being troubled over her age and her health. She was worried over the fact that if something were to happen to her, Sean had no other living relatives. Being a lifelong academic and artist, she knew she hadn't lived what could be called a healthy lifestyle. She was still smoking at the age of 67."

"After several exchanges of letters, your mother suggested that Karen draw up papers naming your parents as legal guardians should something happen to her. These papers were drawn up but Karen (typically) never told anyone about them. Her copy was kept with her personal documents and your mother kept her copy filed away."

"Your mother was on a three month tour of Europe when Karen Harris suffered a heart attack and died. By the time your mother found out, the Academy had already taken custody of baby Sean but there was no record of this. With no other relatives to be concerned, the child was just whisked away which, by the way, is typical when a child winds up in the care of Nesswell-Turnbridge."

"Your mother began an attempt to locate Sean but the waters were very muddied and then, shortly after she'd begun her search, she was diagnosed with breast cancer which you'll remember Eric, was a harrowing two years for her and your family. When she'd finally been pronounced cured, with your father's, help she began to search for the child again. Sadly, shortly after that, the tragic accident that took the lives of your mother, father and brother occurred."

"You'll pardon me for reminding you that you took their deaths very badly and lived a rather unproductive life for almost four years."

"It was shortly after your return to sanity (if you'll forgive my terminology) that you discovered the documents, learned of Sean's existence and your parent's' intentions regarding him. Using the information your parents had accumulated, it was relatively easy to locate the boy at Nesswell-Turnbridge and to consequently secure his custody."

"After six months of the boy living here as your ward, a mutual affection formed between you and you decided that, since neither of you had any additional family, you would adopt him rather than just remain his custodial guardian."

I shook my head in disbelief. "Well Barry. That's some story and it's very logical but, when all is said and done, it's just a story isn't it?"

He smiled and walked around the table taking his original seat. He opened up his brief case and pulled out a thick folder. "Eric, the moment you give me the OK, it becomes reality. It becomes so real that no one will ever be able to disprove one thing. It becomes so real that in a year or so, you'll be telling that story to Sean as if it were the gospel."

Richard reached over and slapped him on the back. "The Gospel according to Barry." The four of them laughed, but Barry leaned across the table and spoke, "Seriously, Eric, with varying degrees of sophistication, this sort of thing has been going on for as long as there has been organized civilization. The ancient Egyptians and later the Romans were pros at writing people into and out of history. They actually destroyed and re-built massive monuments just to accomplish this sometimes and at other times, they carved new faces on public sculpture just to credit a new person with some achievement."

The Soviet Union brought this practice to new levels of technical skill and they typically added or eliminated people from important historical photographs… long before there was a PHOTOSHOP I might add. They reprinted books, magazines and newspapers just to establish historical back-up for revisions in history."

"Hell Eric, even the Boy Scouts of America 'disappeared' one of their early founders, Ernest T. Seaton, who actually wrote the original 'Handbook for Boys' and worked in England with Baden Powell to set up the original Boy Scout organization. It's almost as if he never participated in getting those groups set up at all."

"What I'm getting at, is that history is altered and manipulated all the time. It's just that we, the Skuggor, can do it at a level that has never been possible before."

"If you check your library downstairs, you'll find on the shelves four first editions of three of Karen's books affectionately signed to your mother. If you look through your mother's papers you'll find every letter she ever received from Karen. And in the box of Karen's papers you've just recently received from the Academy after you adopted Sean, you'll find all of your mother's letters to her. In both collections you'll find snapshots of the two of them together and as part of groups 'taken' during the seminars that they attended together. Within 20 minutes of your approval, all computer records and legal documents concerning Sean will change to comply with our revised history. No 'expert' in the world will ever be able to determine that any of our documents, photographs or legal records are not 100 percent authentic. If your Mother and Karen were alive today and examined the letters we've created, they would swear it was their handwriting."

"In essence Eric, if you agree, in 20 minutes or less, the entire story I've related to you will cease to be a fiction I created and will become fact in every provable and verifiable sense of the word."

"Wow!" I shook my head in astonishment. "It would be a ridiculous understatement to say that I'm impressed. What do you think Professor?"

The big man turned to me and replied, "It's more than perfect. Not only will this protect your relationship with Sean from any possible aspersions, it will actually give Sean a sense of history and belonging in his adoptive family that precedes his birth. It's actually a wonderful gift for the boy."

"Well then, Barry, as Captain Picard on 'Star Trek' used to say, 'make it so'"

Barry smiled, nodded and began to type something on his lap top. After about five minutes he looked up at us and smiled, "Done" he said and he held his hands up like a magician who had just made an object disappear.

"I knew you'd like this," Walter said. "I've had all the letters both women exchanged as well as the photographs and other documents put into folders and placed on the credenza in your study. I thought you might like to look at them."

I smiled at him."Now Walter don't try and confuse me. My Mother and Sean's Grandmother didn't REALLY write to each other… the letters and photos are…"

"They are what they are and 'REALLY 'is just a word Eric," he answered my uncompleted question. "As time passes, Barry's version… OUR version of reality will seem like it was always the truth. You'll see."

"Now then, if we're finished with that remarkable bit of business, Eric, can we discuss a matter of personnel?" It was Uncle Phil who spoke and his smile was as big as Walter's. "If you'll remember, you sent Walt and I up north to meet with a young man that you thought we might find interesting."

"I remember that of course, Phil, and I've been expecting your report today, honest," I said returning the smile.

"Well, let me tell you, this kid, Chris Hanuchek, is remarkable. Walt and I each met with him separately and then a couple of times together. He's as sharp as a tack. Walt says he reminds him of me when we were young. Anyhow we think your instincts were right. I'll tell you my only problem with him."

"He's switching his major from pre-law to business which means two to three more years at the university. Eric, I'd like for us to get ahold of him now before some professor screws up his way of thinking… .ooops… no offense meant to you Professor Swaim. We need to get him now if we can, Eric, and teach him how WE do business."

I had no doubt about the honesty and earnestness in what he was saying and I could see Walter's agreement written all over him. "Well Phil, right now all the young man is thinking about is his degree when we need him to be thinking about his future. All of us here know that a degree is just a piece of paper and it's something we can buy if need be."

"Let's get him down here and we'll wine and dine him so to speak. I can easily guarantee his degree if that's all it's going to take. Let me make a couple of phone calls this evening and if all goes as I suspect it will, I'll fly you up on the jet to bring him down here, Phil. I'll call Captain Lucas and make certain you have a great flight attendant… no not you Barry. Your flight attendant days are over for good." Everyone but the Professor (who wasn't in on the joke) laughed.

"Let's tentatively plan on meeting with Chris on Wednesday. I agree with you guys… if we want him and we can get him, let's get him now!"

"There's one more thing that I'd like to discuss today and it's another reason I really wanted Professor Swaim here."

I told them about the confusing statement Sean had made concerning his feelings about the nest and I expressed concern that we didn't know nearly enough about the internal culture of the organization to consider how we were going to move against it.

"It would be useful if I could have a series of informal discussions with one or more of the nestlings… preferably older boys who were actively involved in the 'extracurricular' activities of that organization." Doc Swaim said.

It suddenly occurred to me that I had the answer to this little dilemma. "Doc, clear your schedule starting this weekend. It just so happens that I've bought out the contract on one of those young men for the duration of his residence. I'll arrange to pick him up on Friday and you can have him for as long as you need to pick his brains for information."

After the meeting, I wandered downstairs and into my study. The small stack of folders was on the credenza just as Walter had told me they would be. I absently leafed through some of the contents. I recognized my mother's distinctive handwriting even though I knew she hadn't actually written any of these. Quickly glancing at the photographs I couldn't suppress a smile at my mother's face as she gazed at a camera from a place she'd never been, posing with people she'd never met. I sighed softly astonished at the power and capabilities I suddenly realized were at my command.

Walking over to the little antique cabinet I pulled out a bottle of Glen Fiddich and poured a sizable dram over two ice cubes in a cut crystal tumbler thinking to myself that this was the first one today. I picked up the telephone to make a couple of calls.

Two drinks and six calls later, I had it set up that Uncle Phil would fly out tomorrow and meet Chris at the Oroway Airport about twenty miles [30 km] from the National Park. I would then fly to Houston on Friday to pick up my nest boy and bring him back to Joyous Gaurde. I couldn't decide if I should bring Sean with me and decided that I'd tell him what I was doing and leave it up to him.

***

With a fresh drink in hand, I strolled over across the garden path toward the pool. I could hear the laughter before I'd turned the corner and stepped onto the sunny patio. I watched in smiling pleasure as John would crouch down under water, Sean would stand on his shoulders and then the man would rapidly stand up propelling the small boy like a rocket away only to splash into the water. John was in blue trunks with a bright red flame pattern on one leg his tan muscled body looked as ripped and powerful as he had the first time we'd met when he rescued me in the local Pool Hall. I mused over our long association. John was as sexually straight as any man I knew. He was fully aware of my homosexuality and it was a complete non-issue to him.

Sean was wearing a pair of beige trunks with a navy blue slash which made him quite over-dressed compaired to his normal and preferred swimming attire. Both of them were tanned to a lovely bronze though I knew that John's tan (unlike Sean's) didn't extend below the belt line.

They both saw me approach and, waving, they came to the side of the pool nearest me.

"Hi Dad! Why doncha get your suit on and join us?"

"Not just now, Sean. I think I'm just going to finish this drink and sit here in the sun for a bit and watch you two have fun."

"I wish you'd change your mind Eric. This little bugger is wearing me out!" John was laughing as he said it but he did use me as an excuse to climb out of the pool and sit down on one of the nearby lounges.

"So, little man," I said to Sean who was resting his elbows on the edge of the pool near me, "we've got some company coming. Remember Chris who worked at the Lodge up at the National Park? He's coming tomorrow evening to spend a few days and talk with me and Uncle Phil and Walter."

"Neat! I liked Chris. He gave us those great jackets too."

"Then, on Friday, I'm flying down to Houston to pay a visit to the nest. Do you want to come?"

"D-Dad… you wouldn't leave me there would you? You promised I never had to go back."

"Silly doofus! Of course I wouldn't leave you. You don't belong there anymore! You're my son and you belong here. I just thought you might like the plane ride and you could be company for the boy I'll be bringing back for a while."

His face dropped and I realized that once again I had frightened him with my words, "Y-you're bringing another boy back? Don't you like me anymore Dad? D-did I do somethin' wrong? I promise I'll be better if you tell me what I did."

I jumped up from my chair and knelt down at the edge of the pool grasping his hand. "Sean! It's nothing like that. You've got to stop worrying all the time. I LOVE you! You're PERFECT! This other boy is coming out here to help the Professor with a project that's all. You're the only boy I love… you're my only boy!"

He lowered his eyes and in a very soft voice he said, "Sorry Dad."

I bent low and kissed the top of his head. "Don't be sorry Sean but please always remember that I love you and I always will".

Raising his eyes and smiling he replied, "An I'll always love you too. Dad. If I come with you to Houston, is it OK if I stay in the car while you're inside the nest?"

"Don't worry Sean, you never need to set foot in there again if you don't want to. Now, I've changed my mind. I'm going to get my swim trunks on and join you guys."

As I walked to the pool house I was thinking about how complicated Sean's feelings about the nest seemed to be. Hopefully my young red-headed friend would help shed some light on how the nestlings actually felt about their childhood home. This was turning into a far more complicated little 'war' than I'd imagined, and the first shot hadn't even been fired yet!

Chris visits Joyous Gaurde and so does Jack!

Each human soul is a small bit of the great heart of creation and we move through the universe for the single purpose of improving everything that we touch. We are intended to build not to break, to heal not to hurt, to love not to scorn.

Everything we do, everything wrought by our hands or spoken by our voices should be to help, heal and grow. Songs are so much better than boasts just as lighthouses are far more useful than churches.

The limo pulled to a stop near the door. I stood with Sean and Walter watching as John hopped out from behind the wheel and jaunted around to pull open the passenger door. A smiling Uncle Phil stepped out onto the drive soon followed by Chris whose handsome face bore a look that could best be described as 'shell shocked'.

Phil took him by the elbow and shepherded him up the steps to meet us and it was Walter who took the lead extending his hand. "Welcome to our end of the state Chris. You remember Eric Tucker and his son Sean, of course? They'll be your hosts during your stay with us."

As we shook hands, I tried not to be too obvious in my appraisal but the young man standing on my porch landing was exceptionally better looking than I remembered him to be. The actual fact was, he was magazine model gorgeous. I wondered how I had forgotten his attractiveness and I quickly chalked it up to the emotional turmoil I had been going through as a result of Sean's kidnapping and subsequent hospital stay.

To my total surprise I realized that my dick was getting hard as I stood there looking at him. "Well that's strange," I thought to myself a bit amused but not totally unhappy with my body's reaction to this fine young man who was going to be my house-guest for the next several days.

"Chris, it's wonderful to see you again. Some of my guys will bring your stuff inside; why don't we all move on out to the patio and have a drink. Then, we'll get you set up in your room so that you can rest before lunch."

As we walked through the main house it was easy to tell from his expression that he was beyond being impressed by the magnificence of Joyous Gaurde and the implication of the wealth it represented. It was a well-known fact that I was obscenely rich, but Chris was only now beginning to get a glimmer of just how rich I actually was.

The remarkable poise and self-assurance he had demonstrated during our stay at the Lodge was beginning to wane as he realized just how far out of his league he suddenly was. I was not allowing this to happen so that I could gloat or impress him but rather to give him some impression of the wealth and power of the organization we were going to eventually invite him to join.

Shortly, we were all seated comfortably on the slate patio under the shade of the porch overhang overlooking the lovingly tended wild flower garden. We adults were sipping on wonderful frozen margaritas while Sean happily drank his lemonade.

I noticed with interest that Sean had seated himself next to Walter and was watching him fondly as we all conversed.

The boy had never had a full recovery of memory from the horrible events of his kidnapping. Over time, little bits and pieces of half remembered 'things' kept creeping into his consciousness. He had feelings and emotions that he couldn't explain. As an example, he had returned after the ordeal with a fondness and attachment toward Walter that he had never displayed before the terrible events up north. While he had no memory or other knowledge of Walter's heroic actions that day high atop the fire tower, he seemed to sense that the man had done something for him… played some important role in his life… and, being Sean, he didn't question these feelings. He trusted them and went with them.

Though Walter tried to present a persona that was stoic and careful with any display of emotions, he could not hide the fact that he was pleased with this new attention the boy paid him and, occasionally, during our conversation he absently reached over and patted Sean's arm and shoulder as he made some point in the discussion.

"Chris, I have it in mind that we all make this a very informal day. You may want to rest in your room for a while before lunch or, perhaps, you'd like to lounge around the pool. Though I must warn you, if you select the pool Sean here will almost certainly try to connive you into roughhousing with him. So, if its rest you want, perhaps you should choose your room.

After we've had lunch, I'll take you on a little tour, and then you can do whatever you'd like until dinner which Mrs. Edwards has already informed me will be served at 7:30."

"Starting tomorrow, I'm going to have you spend your time with Walter and Phil so that they can explain some things we have in mind that we hope may interest you as well. Sean and I have a quick trip to Houston on Friday but we'll be back Saturday and then I'd like to spend some time talking to you. How does that sound?"

"Well Mr. Tucker… err Eric, it sounds fine but I've got to tell you that I have no idea why I'm here. All I know is that my boss at the lodge told me yesterday that I was to meet Mr. Regent… excuse me… Phil at the airport and that I was to accompany him down here for a few days so… ."

I stood up and clapped him on the shoulder. "No worries Chris. It will all be clear to you in a day or two and I promise you that it's all good. For now, why don't you just pretend you're on vacation and enjoy yourself? I'll get someone to show you to your room."

"I'll show him, Dad!" Sean was on his feet and standing next to us. "Come on, Chris, I'll take you up there and then we can go to the pool. You don't look like you need no nap to me."

So saying, he took the confused but compliant young man's arm and led him back into the house.

With a guffaw Walter turned to me and said, "Seems to me that you should give that boy a job as activities director around here!"

After sharing in the laughter, I turned to Uncle Phil."So how was the trip down here? Any feelings yet?"

"Not really Eric. As he just told you, if he has any idea what we're up to he certainly is hiding it well but… I'll tell you one thing that may interest you," he took a long sip from his drink and then looked at Walter and me, "that attractive flight attendant you made certain we had was certainly off the mark. She didn't do a thing for him. I strongly suspect Eric that our young Chris bats for the same team that you do if you get my drift."

"Well, that's interesting," I managed to say as I felt a stirring in my groin again. "VERY interesting,"' I thought to myself.

"Well Eric, since Phil and I aren't officially working on him until tomorrow, we're going to head up to the 'office' and plan our assault on that unsuspecting young man," said Walter. "We'll see you at dinner."

Draining the last of my drink, I unconsciously licked my upper lip enjoying the lingering bite of the salt that had coated the rim of my glass as I headed in to my study to call Captain Lucas, my pilot. After ensuring everything was set up for our flight on Friday, I decided that I would wander over to the pool and see if Sean had indeed gotten his way.

***

As I was turning around the hedge approaching the pool area I heard Chris' voice exclaiming something that I couldn't quite make out and this was followed by a splash. Sean's voice sounded in an exclamation which I also didn't understand followed by Chris' voice again, "The somersaults were perfect but now we've got to work on your entry Sean. That was too sloppy; you made way too big a splash. Watch me."

I stepped onto the patio just in time to see Chris hop backwards off the board. His body executed two complete somersaults and then entered the water head first cleanly with just the minimum splash. As he broke back to the surface smiling he caught sight of me.

"Hi Eric! Uhm… I hope you don't mind, Sean insisted that you two always swim this way."

I suddenly realized with a flash that the gorgeous young man was absolutely naked. Although I was initially surprised, I decided at once that I didn't mind at all.

"No, not at all Chris. Now that Sean has let you in on our little secret, I only hope that you're comfortable and that the little con man didn't coerce you into skinny dipping."

"Oh gosh no, Eric! This is my most favorite way to swim. I'd do it all the time if I had a nice private pool like this, and Sean tells me you've also got an indoor pool that you use during the cold weather. I can't imagine how wonderful that must be."

He was climbing out of the pool as he spoke obviously not in the least bit shy over his state of undress. "Sometimes I think I'd rather be in the water than anyplace else on earth."

"Well, then you'd fit in quite well here." I was trying not to be too obvious as I assessed his attractive obviously athletic body while he nonchalantly retrieved what looked like a gin and tonic and took a sip as he sat onto one of the lounges.

"Can I freshen that up for you?" I indicated his drink. "I'm going to make one for myself and then if you two don't mind I think I'll join you."

"That would be great," he replied as he offered me his almost empty glass. I walked over to the poolside bar and fixed two gin and tonics. Handing one to Chris, I placed the other on one of the poolside tables and proceeded to remove my clothing attempting to appear completely casual. I turned in his direction and noticed that he was looking at me without making any pretense of hiding it.

With a smile he said, "Man, am I jealous of you two with your all-over tans. I sure wish I could be naked out in the sun a lot more often. I've loved it since I was a kid younger than Sean."

"We used to live on the coast and my dad would take me on weekends to Arena del Oro Beach. That's a beautiful little clothing-optional sandy strip on an isolated little bay and we'd both have all-over tans after the first few weeks of spring."

Still smiling, he took a sip from his drink and then looked directly at me and his face suddenly became melancholy. "Mom would never come. She always said people wouldn't approve but she never tried to stop us either. She'd laugh and call us her two nudies. Then, when I was thirteen, Dad died suddenly and we had to move up north to live with my Aunt Rita and my days as a budding naturist were pretty much over."

"Dad! Dad! Chris is teaching me to dive." Sean in all his naked, sun-bronzed glory was standing up on the diving board. "Watch this!" He turned so that his back was to the pool and with a slight hop he was up and out and his nimble little body executed two perfect somersaults just before he reached the surface of the water and entered a bit off perpendicular creating a large splash.

I turned to look at Chris who smiled at me."Man, that's not bad! That's only his second attempt with double somersaults and already his entry was significantly better than last time.

I wish I had learned that quickly!"

"Sean seems to have the ability to learn to do things very fast." I agreed.

"Yeah, not me. I had to train long and hard. I was on the High School dive team and I was on the University team 'til I needed to make some money and the job at the Lodge came along."

I found that I was enjoying his openness and the comfortable conversation punctuated by the view of his slender, but well-formed, physique, was making for what might easily have become a pleasant lazy afternoon. This was not to be however because there was a 12-year -old in the water wanting playmates.

"Dad, come on in! You haven't even got wet yet!" With a grin and a shrug I put my drink down onto the table and plunged into the pool.

Gliding underwater, I came up to his legs. Placing one hand on his left foot and the other on the cheeks of his ass, I burst to the surface hurling him into the air and away into the water amid squeals of delight.

Chris soon joined us in the water and we spent a pleasant time roughhousing with a little boy who was thoroughly enjoying the attention he was receiving. Eventually, I glanced at my watch and realized that Martha would just about be expecting us for lunch and so I strongly suggested that we get out of the pool.

As we stood side by side rinsing off under the showers in the pool house, I took the opportunity to look Chris over again and realized that I found him to be incredibly sexy. Almost at the same time, I became aware of the fact that he was looking at me as well. Our eyes met and a warm smile spread across his handsome face.

Lunch was served out on the patio. It was nothing particularly fancy. It consisted of cold buttermilk fried chicken, Martha's secret German potato salad, an iced salmon mousse to spread on thin slices of whole wheat toast, a mixed greens salad and thick slices of beefsteak tomatoes marinated in red wine vinegar and olive oil topped with a chilled slice of fresh mozzarella cheese. Desert was a tangy Italian style lemon ice with thin cookies.

It was totally delicious and perfect for a warm summer day.

After eating we walked casually through Joyous Gaurde as Sean and I gave him a tour of the grand old place with the exception of the South wing which he would be spending most of tomorrow and Friday in as he met with Walter and Uncle Phil.

He particularly liked the game room and, of course, the indoor pool. He was properly impressed with the trophies and awards displayed in the trophy room as well as Sean's personal alcove.

"Now Chris, let's give you a quick look at the property. Sean, why don't you drive us in your new ride?" The little boy flashed me a huge smile and ran ahead to the parking lot.

One of the things I had given him as a birthday/adoption present was his very own golf cart. Well, not just any golf cart, of course… I felt like I had many prior birthdays to make up for and he also became my son that day so I wanted him to have something very special. I'd had a stylish Garia Monaco 2-plus-2 customized a bit further than normal to make it very personal for him.

I'd had the carbon fiber body painted the same red as my Jaguar F-type convertible. The hand-stitched leather upholstery was the same as the Jag's and I'd had the initials "SMT" stitched elegantly into the dash leather. I'd chosen the twin bucket-type seats option for the front rather than a more standard bench seat.

At a top speed of about 18-25 MPH [25-40 km/h] it was hardly a sports car but, for a little boy just turned 12, it was a damned neat thing to have.

Everyone knew that I called my Jaguar the 'Red Cat' and it was John who had jokingly called the newly arrived cart 'Sean's red kitty'. The name had stuck and I'd been compelled to have "Red Kitty' painted on the nose of the sleek little electric vehicle.

When I'd given it to Sean, he had burst into tears and I was afraid something was terribly wrong but it turned out to be 'happiness overload'. That day had been just too much for the poor little guy and, despite the fact that his surprise party was still going on, I'd wound up carrying him up to bed by 8 o'clock that night.

He'd slept soundly until 10AM the next day. The very first thing he'd wanted to do after breakfast was take every one of us: me, John, Martha, Walter, the Professor and Phil for rides around the grounds in his new cart. Fortunately, it seats four and so only two trips were required.

Sean was waiting behind the wheel as Chris and I approached and I indicated Chris should take the front seat next to Sean and I hopped into one of the rear facing back seats and we were off.

I had Sean first take the path that led out to the far east side of the property. It was there that Uncle Phil lived in his luxurious condo-like apartment isolated from the main house. He occupied the top floor of building A and now Barry had moved into the apartment on the ground floor.

Across the clearing was an identical building, Richard would soon be moving into the ground floor apartment and I hoped (if he accepted the position I would be offering him) that Chris would be moving into the top floor apartment very soon.

Walter had an apartment in the main house of Joyous Gaurde as did Martha. John lived very happily in the large apartment over the garage building and it seemed that, for the foreseeable future at least, Dr. Swaim was happily entrenched at Fish Camp.

As we drove past the two 'condo' buildings I began to wonder about future housing needs for key employees. I knew that there was an empty 65 acres of land adjoining the northeast of the current estate and I made a mental note to look into purchasing it.

I knew that Andy lived in a small house near the equipment garages isolated to the north of the property but the time was coming soon when I'd need to be appointing a younger man as official Groundskeeper and he would need a place to live. I filed those thoughts away for future consideration.

As he turned the little cart sharply around in the paved lot between the two buildings Sean leaned over to Chris and said, "Now we'll head over to the shootin' range and the gun shed then I'll take you to Fish Camp. You'll love meetin' the Professor. He pretends that he's a teacher but he's REALLY a wizard… you'll see."

Because my seat was facing the rear, I didn't see Chris' facial reaction to that statement but I had to fight not to chuckle out loud. Silently I said to myself; "My wonderful imaginative little boy… my son. God how I love you!"

***

As we returned from our little tour of the property, Sean set the brake on the 'Red Kitty' and excused himself. During our visit to Fish Camp, the Professor had reminded him that, since he and I were flying to Houston on Friday, he'd need to do extra work on two assigned projects and present them to the big man tomorrow.

I admired the fact that Sean never tried to wheedle his way out of any of his responsibilities even when there was something more interesting to do. Rather, he accepted the fact that there was something that needed to be done and did it.

I'd been wondering lately if this was part of his nature or a work ethic that was taught to all nest kids. If the latter were true, then I was forced to mentally add yet another check mark in the 'positive' column for the Nestwell-Turnbridge Academy. My anti-nest campaign was getting more and more complicated the deeper I looked into it.

I invited Chris to follow me down to the library for a drink and, perhaps, a little conversation and he accepted with a quick smile.

As we were crossing the parking area, we spotted John waxing a sleek black car. "What a sweet looking old Camaro!" Chris exclaimed. "Is it part of your collection?"

"Oh no! The black beauty there is John's. It's his pride and joy." It was the same car that John had owned and driven me home in that long-ago day when we had first met and he'd rescued me from the hustler at Arnie's Pool Hall. He kept it in immaculate shape occasionally making further improvements on it. I'd often secretly wonder how much of the car General Motors would recognize by now.

"Hi John." I greeted him as we walked by. "Got a hot date tonight?"

He looked at me with an uncharacteristically sheepish grin and answered, "As a matter of fact, yes I do. She's a great girl. I've been seeing for a while now and if this keeps up, I guess one day I'll have to bring her around here and introduce her to the family."

"I'll look forward to meeting the woman who manages to tame you John." I was smiling sincerely at my friend.

"Oh, but you've already met her, Eric," he replied. "Jenny has worked part-time for Martha for about a year now while she's earning her teaching degree."

"Jenny? Pretty little Jenny? That sweet nice girl is going out with a big bozo like you?"

He grinned from ear to ear. "Yep! Go figure eh?"

"The word is that you shoot a mean game of pool John," Chris interjected.

"I've been known to pot a ball or two, Chris." John replied as he waggled his eyebrows at me.

"Maybe we could play a game sometime," the handsome young man half asked.

"Anytime Chris. I'd love to. But now guys, I've gotta get this wax off." With a smile he turned back to his work and we crossed the pavement and into the house.

We were seated in two of the big old leather arm chairs in the library. I was sipping single malt on ice and he held a Jack Daniels and water. "Damn!," I'd thought to myself,"when the Professor learns this is his preferred drink, I'll never hear the end of it."

After a small comfortable silence he spoke first. "You know, Eric, I hadn't realized Sean was your son when you two were up at the lodge. Somehow I was under the impression you were his guardian or something like that."

"Well, Chris when we first met you that was correct. I was only his guardian." I then proceeded to briefly lay out the manufactured 'history' we had created to better explain Sean's relationship with the Tucker family. I was privately amazed at how easy the story was to tell and how much sense it made as I told it.

Pointing to the large painting I'd had newly installed over the fireplace I said, "That's one of Karen Harris' paintings. The child is Sean when he was about three or four years old."

Chris was running his index finger around the rim of his glass staring at me contemplatively.

"You really love that little boy don't you?"

"With all my heart and soul, Chris. I can't imagine life without him."

"Do you ever let anyone else into your life, Eric? Someone just for you? Someone or something that doesn't also center on Sean?" I blinked at him, a bit taken aback.

"I'm not quite certain what you mean."

He smiled at me and raised one eyebrow as he took a long pull from his glass. "Permission to speak freely sir?' he said with a grin and I chuckled loudly.

"My friend, Commodore Tipton, would love you! Permission granted."

"Well, Eric, as bright and charming and loveable as he is, Sean is still a little boy. You on the other hand, are a grown man. A very personable and attractive man I might add. A man has certain… needs that a little boy cannot, or at least should not, fulfill and a man should be able to pour out his passion his… needs… with another adult… someone who fully understands and can reciprocate in kind."

I suddenly felt a great heat around my temples and suspected that I was blushing furiously. At the same time I felt the familiar hot arousal between my legs. I was caught completely by surprise and I just sat there staring at him like a complete fool.

He obviously mistook my silence for anger or rejection because he blushed from embarrassment. I was in enough control to note to myself that this only served to make him more attractive.

He placed his drink down on the side table and half stammered,"I-I'm so very sorry. That was forward and uncalled for. I was WAY out of line… I'm so sorry… I… I suppose I'd better leave." He started to rise from his chair and I quickly thrust out a hand to stop him.

"Wait Chris! Please sit down. You're very right. It's been almost five years now since I've had even a brief adult relationship… at least one that took place when I was sane and sober. I've been such a mess… so lost since my family died. It was Sean and his love that saved my life and I'm only getting back to normal so much so that I… well, it's just that hearing that from an attractive young man like yourself… for a moment it almost sounded like an invitation and…"

"What if it was an invitation Eric?" he was leaning forward now looking at me with a hot intensity. I was suddenly more flustered than I'd been in a very long time.

"Well Chris… such an invitation wouldn't go by unconsidered and it would certainly be immensely appealing but…"

"But perhaps should be issued and considered at another time." He rose from his chair. "I think I will take advantage of the couple of hours before dinner and go up to my room to rest." He'd reached over and laid a hand on my shoulder leaving it there lingering for a few moments. "I'll see you a bit later Eric."

He left me sitting alone in the library with wildly conflicting emotions.

This handsome young man who spoke so tenderly and wisely was hardly more than a child himself. At 21 he was only two years older than Kyle would be had he lived, but he had spoken to me almost as an equal and I believed had offered to share himself with me if I would do the same for him… a beautiful man-child who had unquestionably offered himself to me. I was stunned, pleased, excited and confused… most certainly confused.

***

Dinner had been a wonderful success and I remembered how much fun it could be with a large group of friendly interesting people gathered around the big dining room table.

Chris was delightful company and, to my relief, our conversation in the library was neither mentioned nor alluded to. In fact, I might have been able to convince myself that it had never happened had I not caught him looking at me intently at moments when he obviously thought my attention was elsewhere.

It was agreed that he would meet Walter and Phil for breakfast at nine the next morning and would be spending the next two days with them. We all made plans to meet for pre-dinner drinks in the library tomorrow evening and I let them know that Dr. Swaim would be joining us as well.

That night I lay in bed running my fingers through Sean's silky black hair. He was kneeling between my legs tenderly kissing my balls and taking teasing kitten like licks at my raging hard cock. The little boy had become quite adept at teasing me unmercifully before taking me into his mouth and skillfully granting an increasingly expertly executed release.

"Chris is neat, huh?" he spoke softly while still concentrating upon my left testicle.

"Yes he certainly is, little man."

"You like him don't ya?"

"Yes, why do you ask?"

"Cause I'm pretty sure he likes you too."

"Why do you say that, Sean?"

"Oh, the way he always is lookin at you, Eric."

"Does that bother you, Sean?"

He sat straight up and stared into my eyes. "No, Eric. It don't bother me. I know there's things… 'specially sex things that you won't do with me. I think you should be able to do that with somebody and Chris is nice.. I think he'd be nice to do sex things with."

I was stunned but I also had to admit my own feelings and I certainly needed to be honest with him. "What if I did do that sometime… have sex with someone else like Chris? How would you feel about that Sean?"

"I'd be happy, silly. I want you to be happy Eric. I know you try alla time to make me happy. I want you to be happy too."

"Even if I did… sometime have sex with someone, you're the one I love. It wouldn't mean anything like that… it's only you that I truly love… I…"

"I know that too, silly!" and with that his warm hot lips closed around the head of my cock and I sucked in my breath in a gasp of pleasure.

We were both coated in a patina of sweat as we lay sleepily in each others arms. Our pleasure taking and giving had been extraordinary tonight and we clasped each other in a state of contented exhaustion. "You're the love of my life," I whispered huskily into his ear. "I've never loved anyone like I love you."

"Me too," was his soft reply and moments later he was sleeping.

***

The flight to Houston had been pleasant. Captain Lucas had greeted us both warmly and asked Sean if he'd like to be up in the cockpit for take-off. Sean had looked at me with wide questioning eyes and, with a laugh, I'd told him of course he could before he'd even actually asked.

About twenty minutes after we were airborne Sean returned and sat next to me. He was vibrant with excitement and happiness. I hugged him to me and said, "How long before you're asking me if you can take flying lessons?"

He flashed me a large 'Sean smile' and answered at once, "Just as soon as you think I'm old enough, Dad."

"Well when things settle down a bit, I guess we'll have to look into that. Remind me to talk to Captain Lucas next week, OK?"

"Kay!" He leaned against me and rested his head on my chest and we spent the rest of the flight snuggled together that way.

I had forgotten that Sean had never seen the Houston penthouse and smiled as he ran around exploring. I enjoyed each of his funny little exclamations of discovery.

"Boy, Dad, you sure got some way cool houses!" he nearly shouted.

"WE sure have some cool houses," I corrected him. "Guess what? You haven't seen half of them yet, but you will, I promise." He smiled and hugged me warmly and I held him closely.

"Now Sean, I've got to leave to pick up the boy from the nest. Are you certain that you don't want to come with me?"

"N-no Dad. I just don't want to go to that place, at least not now. Is that OK?"

"Of course it's OK, son. You can wait here. You know where everything is and how to turn everything on, right? I'm just sorry there's no pool in this place. When I bought it I didn't know Aquaman was going to be living with me."

He released me from his hug and assumed a humorous muscle man pose before saying,

"It's OK Dad, I've got my book. I'll be fine."

I bent down and kissed him. "Great, I won't be long I promise."

***

As I walked through the doors I couldn't help wondering if young Jack had changed much. It had been almost seven months since we'd been together and I remembered he'd seemed on the verge of a growth spurt. After meeting with Mr. Coleman, the director I signed the necessary temporary custody papers and, in answer to his question, I replied that my time with Jack was open ended at this point. This posed no real problem as I essentially had purchased his entire contract term seven months ago.

"And may I enquire how is Sean?" Mr. Coleman asked in a simpering voice.

"My SON is quite well, thank you Mr. Coleman," I replied curtly. Before any further uncomfortable conversation could occur there was a knock at the office door. The Director bade the visitor enter. The door opened and there he stood.

He didn't seem to have grown very much but, if possible, he was more stunning. He was wearing his hair a bit longer which offset his square jaw wonderfully and his emerald green eyes danced as a smile crossed his face when he saw me.

Impulsively he ran up to me and embraced me warmly causing the officious little director to clear his throat audibly.

"Oh, cool it Mr. Coleman!" I snapped. "I'm happy this boy is as glad to see me as I am to see him. Hello Jack." I smiled at the exquisite red head.

"Hello Eric! I knew it! I knew you come back to see me again. I'm so happy you're here!"

"Well Jack, we're not staying here. We'll spend the night at the penthouse and then you're coming home with me for a while. Is that OK?"

"OK? It's GREAT!"

"Then let's go." I hefted the small travel bag he'd placed by the door. From its weight I suspected they'd packed him no more extra clothing than they'd done for Sean when I'd picked him up. "Oh well," I thought, "Jacob Struthers will love it and, besides, it's probably time to get Sean re-sized as well. Summer is almost over."

I turned the car over to the valet and Jack and I entered the elevator. "Well Jack, if you don't mind my saying so, you certainly haven't gotten any less handsome. You're as beautiful as ever."

He beamed with pride and reached into the collar of his shirt drawing out his lovely emerald pendant. "All the guys were so jealous when they saw this. You know Eric, I'm 16 now. I'm not such a little boy anymore."

I reached out and mussed his hair. "You've only JUST turned 16 and you're still a little boy to me Jack… a beautiful wonder boy but still…"

We arrived at the top floor and with, my arm on his shoulder, we walked to the penthouse door. I was wondering, out of curiosity, if he and Sean knew each other. To a certain extent they must I assumed.

"Well, here we are again," I said as I swung the door open. Jack took two steps in and stopped abruptly. In the center of the room Sean stood equally frozen, eyes wide mouth agape.

"Rufus!"

"Tadpole!"

They were in each others arms instantly and I was the one frozen in place with his mouth wide open in surprise.

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