Eff Del

Young But Daily Growin'

Chapters 14-19

Chapter 14

Eric will sooth Jack's fright and fly home to Sean who has indeed been learning to fish

We are told that it is better to light one candle, than to sit and curse the darkness. While this is certainly true, it is equally correct that once the darkness has been lessened by that one small glow, we are predisposed to desire even more illumination. Driving back the darkness and dwelling in the light is a fundamental aspiration of human nature.

I was staring into two moist, impossibly green eyes as I wrapped my arms around the naked boy and gently rocked him as I made soothing and totally meaningless sounds. He was no longer shaking and his tears had never actually spilled onto his face, but his countenance was wrought with regret, concern and even fear.

"I'm so sorry Sir. I can do it. I've done it before. It's-it's just that it hurts so much that I sometimes forget what I'm supposed to do." His look and his voice were so poignant.

"P-please, if you'll try it again, I know I can do it right. I'll make it really good for you."

I took his chin in my hand and gently held his face wanting to keep his eyes locked with mine.

"Jack, you haven't done anything wrong and there's nothing to be sorry for. You're a wonderful boy. Of course it hurt when people have done that to you. You're just too small yet. You can't take that kind of physical use without pain and you should never have to."

"That… act… when done between two adult-sized people who care about each other can be wonderful. To be coerced into doing it though is a cruel brutal thing and to force a young boy like you to submit to such an act is a horror."

I made a quick decision there and then. "It's a horror that you will never have to worry about again, Jack. I'll see to that."

His look turned confused and quizzical.

"Trust me on this Jack."

He nodded his head in assent. I ran my hand softly down his back and couldn't help continuing the journey so as to include his wonderful round butt.

"Do you know what I want to do now Jack?" I half whispered. He looked up again with just a hint of concern showing.

"I'd like to take a certain red headed boy I know out for a steak dinner. Does that sound OK?" He broke into a wide dazzling grin.

"It sounds Great! I LOVE steak!" and then a look of concern crossed his face again. "B-but Sir… can I take a shower first? My bottom is all sticky and squishy from that stuff you put down there."

I raised him up to his feet and playfully swatted his bottom as I began laughing. Good Lord but it felt so good to laugh.

"There's the bathroom… towels are on the shelf… I'll see you in the living room when you're beautiful and not squishy. On second thought, make that just 'not squishy; you're already beautiful."

He smiled and then giggled. I had to kiss him before I let him go to scamper into the bathroom.

While he was in the shower I made two telephone calls either of which might have posed a problem for someone with less resources than me. One of life's simple facts has always been that with the right amount of money to spend, anything can be accomplished… and quickly.

I had barely finished my second call when a naked red haired vision came scurrying into the room. If I were going to illustrate Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream, this boy would be my model for Puck, I thought to myself.

"I forgot that all my clothes were out here." His devilish little smile was back.

I watched as he dressed and then I called for my car to be brought around.

'La Maison de Boeuf' has always been my favorite steakhouse in the city and it was not very long before Jack and I were sitting in a semi-private booth attacking two monstrous T-bones.

The steaks were wonderfully seared with a perfect dark crust on all sides. The inside was a uniform pink and upon tasting, the high quality beef was enough to cause you to roll your eyes in ecstasy. Like all boys I've ever met, Jack had an appetite that would be sufficient for someone twice his size.

I had ordered a bottle of a wonderful Washington State burgundy I was familiar with. I poured a glass and offered it to Jack. Unlike Sean, he accepted it with a smile and enjoyed it with his meal. It must be an age thing. I thought to myself.

During our dinner conversation, I learned that Jack had a keen interest in ocean life and hoped to major in Marine Biology after graduating from the Academy. "If I can accrue enough money from contracts or if I'm lucky… score a scholarship," he appended his narrative.

"That's a wonderful ambition and sounds like an exciting and worthwhile career choice," I'd agreed.

He was sitting across from me with his back to the wall and I couldn't stop admiring how stunning his exotic coloring stood out against the old fashioned black and red paisley patterned wallpaper.

By the time dinner was over, Jack had opened up considerably and I found him to be a delightful conversationalist; funny and slightly irreverent… just as I'd initially suspected he must be.

As we rode the elevator back up to the penthouse he suddenly got somber. "I had fun this evening, Sir. I'm sorry I was such a disappointment."

I stroked his cheek gently. "Jack, you were anything BUT a disappointment. You have no way of knowing just how important our interval together has been for me… AND… for the rest of our time, you need to call me Eric."

He smiled his wonderful smile. As we entered the apartment I noticed the package I had called for earlier had been delivered and placed on the table.

"Jack why don't you go inside and get ready for bed and then you can join me out here."

He looked at me totally confused. I laughed. "I mean, just like before, take your clothes off but this time… leave them in the bedroom instead of out here."

He grinned his little wicked grin.

"On second thought, leave those little underpants on. I might want to take them off myself." He was off in a shot and, in just moments, returned with the small beige briefs hugging his wondrous buns.

"Sit over here Jack," I indicated the couch as I got up and retrieved the small long box from the table.

I cracked the box open and looked inside. It was as exquisite as I'd thought it to be when I'd noticed it in the jeweler's window on my way in earlier today. I removed it from the box and held it up for him to see. "This was obviously made with you in mind," I told him.

It was an 18-carat gold chain of medium thickness made of intricate double entwined links. The chain ran through a gold bale that was cunningly fastened to a magnificent tear shaped full carat emerald. It was a beautiful piece of jewelry and was decidedly masculine in every way.

Jack's eyes were opened wide and I noted with satisfaction that they almost perfectly matched the color of the gem stone hanging from the chain.

I walked behind the couch so that I could fasten the chain around his thin neck. The stone fell to the center of his chest slightly higher than his nipples. The golden chain and the green stone so complimented his coloring that it seemed boy and pendant must have been created together and been accidentally separated until this moment.

"Go look." I smiled indicating a mirror hanging on a far wall.

He got up and walked to the glass.

He spent several minutes looking and posing before finally turning around with a smile of pure delight. "It's the most beautiful thing! Thank you Sii… Eric! Thank you so much."

He ran to me and wrapped his arms around me in a big hug.

"Sit down now, Jack, so that I can tell you something." I'd taken a seat on the couch and, without being asked, he sat right next to me. I draped an arm over his shoulder and pulled him into me.

"What happened… what ALMOST happened tonight should never happen to a little boy like you. That is something that adults do with adults and only if they choose to. I've taken measures to make certain that this is something you won't have to worry about again."

"I've been in touch with powerful people at the nest… at the Academy Jack. You won't be sent out on any more contracts before you are 17. By then your body should have grown enough to safely tolerate… such things… and if you WANT to go out you may… but you won't have to, not even then."

"I've had enough money transferred to the Academy to more than cover your potential income for them. They will ensure that your percentage will be deposited into your account. That will be a good bit of money for you when you're 18."

"ALSO… I expect that you'll get cracking and study really hard because I've also set up a scholarship for you at State University after you graduate. OK?"

This time his emerald green eyes weren't able to hold back the tear drops. "Why are you doing this for me Eric?"

"Because you are a wonderful young man who came to me just when I needed you. You'll never know how grateful I am to you."

He looked confused. I smiled and kissed him.

"Don't try to understand it Jack. Just trust me OK?"

"OK."

"Now Jack, I've also got to tell you that our time together is going to be cut short. I'm going to drop you back at the Academy in the morning because I've got some important personal business to take care of tomorrow. I won't forget you, though, and I hope you'll think of me every time you look at that necklace."

He buried his face into my chest and I knew he was crying silently.

I ran my hand in wide soft circles caressing his back. We stayed that way for quite some time before I softly spoke, "What do you think Jack… TV or bed?"

After a few moments, he took my hand in both of his and gently but firmly pulled me into the bedroom.

As he had done earlier, he lay on his stomach and watched me undress, when I approached the bed he rolled over and raised his hips so that I could slide the small beige briefs down his legs and off.

I made to lie down next to him but he urged me onto my back.

He was kneeling between my legs, his pert round ass jutting up into the air as he lowered his lips down onto my throbbing member. I felt the heat of his mouth as he engulfed me. In two distinct but smooth motions he had taken all of me in. I was surrounded by the hot wetness of his young mouth and throat. I could feel the tip of his nose pressed into my dark pubic hair.

He moved slowly and evocatively up and down my shaft using his tongue skillfully to caress and tease. Every time he reached the tip he paused lingering long enough to taunt with his tongue and teeth before plunging to the base and beginning the slow erotic journey up again.

It was as if he could feel what I felt… think what I thought, because each time the superb fire began to fill my cock, he found a way to forestall its rise and extend my exquisite torment.

Eventually even his considerable skill could not prevent the inevitable and issuing some animal-like sounds my cock erupted… I shot my load into his enveloping mouth as I moaned his name.

Finally I lay sated and still and he slowly worked his lips upon the tip of my cock cleaning up the small residual post climax drips.

He raised his head and looked at me with a grin, green eyes flashing with good humor.

I pulled him up onto my chest and slid the blanket over both of us. I think we both fell asleep at the same time.

***

Before I walked him into the Academy the next morning we sat in the car in the parking lot. I kissed him one more time, gazing into those bewitching, unearthly green eyes and thanked him again.

Thanking me in return, he told me once more what a great time he'd had.

I'd given him a card with my private telephone numbers telling him I expected a call if he ever needed anything. Before leaving him to return to his dorm, I told him that I'd be checking up on him regularly. "I've just invested a lot in your future Jack, make me proud. Become the fine man I know you're meant to be."

I hugged him tight and then turned and left.

The flight home was smooth and uneventful. John was waiting on the tarmac with the limo.

As I usually did when it was just John and me, I slid into the front passenger seat. I was wishing I had requested that he bring Sean along when I'd called with my change of plans. In his usual comfortable manner when it was just us, John kept up a happy line of small talk and soon we were passing through the gate.

I was a bit surprised when rather than pulling around back as he usually would, he pulled up to the front door. Instead of Walter, Doctor Swaim was standing at the steps to greet me.

I became concerned."Professor, what's wrong? Where's Walter?… Where's Sean?"

He put a large hand on my shoulder and guided me into the house. Very quickly I realized I was being shepherded in the direction of the library. "Nothing's wrong… at least not here," he said.

"Sean and Walter are up at Fish Camp murdering the bass. When we got the word that you were cutting short your… business by almost two days, I got concerned and thought it might be best if I intercepted you to make certain everything went as you planned."

We had walked into the library and he had me sitting in a leather armchair as he moved on the wet bar and mixed two drinks. He offered one to me and I had the strangest urge to decline. But, I accepted it and took a sip allowing my tongue to relish the snappy peaty taste.

I looked at him for a prolonged time before replying. I didn't break our eye contact as I spoke, "It went almost nothing like I had planned and exactly as I suspect you thought… or at least hoped it would."

I gave him a detailed account of my time in the city. I described my battle with the beast at the very threshold of young Jack's body. I particularized my personal revelations while weeping in the bathroom and my symbolic farewell to Kyle.

He listened without interruption until I finally ran out of things to tell him.

"What now Eric?" he finally asked.

"I don't know for sure, Doc. I know that my heart is light and my mind is free. I'm filled with love for Sean. I want him to learn to understand my love and to hopefully learn to express his for me."

"Then, you intend to keep him here with you?"

"Yes… yes I do I just don't know in what way. I could simply buy out his contract which is essentially what I did for the boy Jack I was with last night… or I could make legal arraignments. I could even go so far as to adopt him. That alternative sounds particularly attractive."

"I don't know in what direction I want our relationship to develop. I don't know what my capacity in his life should be. I haven't thought that far ahead. This is all too new."

"Well, Eric, before you say anything to him, I urge you in the strongest way that I can, to take the time and think about these things. Examine all of the questions… consider all of the possibilities."

He finished the last of his whiskey and rose to his feet reaching for my empty glass. He continued talking as he prepared two more drinks, "Eric, Sean is not some houseplant that you've brought home because you think it will look good in your study. He's not like a puppy that you've bought from the breeder and that you can return if he doesn't please you or learn the tricks you were hoping for. He is a wonderful, bright, loving boy and that could pose a problem Eric."

I was stunned that he seemed anything less than ecstatic over my triumphant return and shocked at what seemed like the beginning of a rebuke of some kind.

I opened my mouth to reply, but, he spoke first.

"Eric, until recently the great love of your life has been Kyle, your little brother. Kyle lived to be older than Sean is now… he was 14 years old but essentially still just a little boy when he was taken away from us.

"In three short years Sean will have grown to be as old as Kyle was but, while Kyle is frozen in time… forever 14 in your heart and mind… God willing, Sean will continue to grow. He'll become a teenager and then a young man and eventually a man as big as or bigger than you.

"Kyle never got the chance to make teenaged mistakes, to exercise the natural rebellion and independence that are so intrinsic to maturing and growing up. He never had the opportunity to say or do angry and hurtful things that all growing boys unintentionally do as they begin to stretch their minds into their growing bodies.

"Eric, Sean will live to do all these things. He is wonderful and loving and bright, but he is a boy and a boy must evolve into a man.

"It's like the old English folk song says, 'he's young, but he's daily growing'.

"Eric, drunk or sober, through anguish and anger, these past four years you've had the dubious luxury of loving the idea of Kyle. Had he lived, Kyle would be 18 years old now. By all acceptable definitions he would be a man.

"He would have grown from the hero-worshiping little boy into and through periods of rebellion and even a bit of cruelty. He would by now have second-guessed you many times and most likely taken issue with some things you had done or said. Boys do that. It's part of growing up. I'm certain that the bond of your love for each other would have stayed strong but, by now, it would be on different… far more equal… terms than it was when Kyle was 14.

"None of this happened with Kyle because as the same song says, 'cruel death has put an end to his growing'.

"This isn't the case with Sean. He'll grow Eric. Joyous Gaurde is not Never Land and Sean is not Peter Pan. He won't do it on purpose and he won't do it to hurt you… but he'll grow.

"You have to ask yourself this very hard question, 'what do you really love?

"Do you love Sean for what he is now and what he will grow to be… understanding that this will include the perquisite bad times and bad things? Understanding that all too fleetingly the little boy will become a man?

"OR!

"Do you really love the idea of Sean? Sean, the delightful 11-year-old boy who makes the whole world new and bright. An ideal child that should be frozen in time.

"Here is the reality you MUST face before you say anything to him Eric. If you're going to keep him with you, then you must be willing to accept the changes that will occur with growth and you must be capable of loving him as he grows even, if at times, he seems to be growing away from you. You must be capable and willing to love Sean the boy, the youth and the man.

"If, on the other hand, you discover that what you really love is the idea of Sean, then you must enjoy this year and then let him go back exactly as he is regretfully expecting to do. You can make all of the financial arraignments required to keep him safe and ensure his future but you must… for both of your sakes… return him to the life he had before it became entangled with yours. This way he'll do his growing out of your sight and the Sean of today will be forever preserved in your heart like Kyle… youthful and perfect."

He fixed me in the gaze of his powerful blue eyes and I sat there shocked and speechless. Once again he was right. Once again, like so many times in my life, he had posed me a problem that I had not even considered and was going to leave me to solve it on my own. When, I wondered, will he ever stop being my teacher?

"Think hard on these things Eric but don't make a hasty decision. You have the luxury of time I'm happy to remind you. Think hard and make a decision that is the right one for YOU as well as for the boy. For now, for this moment, the best choice would be a happy reunion with a little guy who has missed you."

We walked out the back and got into a cart headed for Fish Camp. My head was filled with the new questions the big man had confronted me with.

My immediate conclusion; he was right that I had the luxury of time. When faced with difficult choices, a year can seem like an eternity. For now, I just wanted to hug my little boy.

As we pulled the cart into the clearing in front of the cabin, I noticed Walter down by the shore of the lake. He was dressed very casually in a short-sleeved green shirt and tan cargo shorts. I took a moment to reflect upon what a fine looking man he really was.

An extraordinarily fit 67 year old, he stood about 6 feet 2 inches [1.90 m] tall. His almost silver hair was kept immaculately trimmed at all times (Kyle and I used to joke that he kept a barber prisoner in his apartment in the mansion.)

His face was strong and always clean shaven. Today his dark eyes were hidden behind sunglasses. His shoulders were broad and his arms were strong and muscled in a normal, not ostentatious, way. His legs were the same. His muscles were for utility, not for show.

I didn't know much about his background other than the fact that he had served in Vietnam as one of the legendary Green Berets. There were family rumors about his exploits while in service and other (half whispered) stories concerning other perhaps more clandestine things done in the employ of my father.

My father had taken over control of the family businesses as a young man after Pa Pop (my grandfather) withdrew from his active life over grief at the early death of my grandmother.

Dad had done some things that were only hinted at. The only things I knew for certain were that in a remarkably short time, he had almost doubled the family's already unthinkable wealth. The other thing was that Walter had been integrally involved in these projects.

My father had regarded Walter more as a brother than an employee and the only time in my life that I had ever seen Walter give in to his emotions was the day we buried my family.

Walter regarded the estate of Joyous Gaurde as his home and he managed it with care and concern. To me he was a guardian and a trusted rock. His erstwhile job title of 'butler' completely belied his function and his great value.

He was fussing with his tackle, attaching a new lure to his line when he saw me. He put a finger to his lips to signal for my silence and pointed to the path that ran into the woods along the southern shore of the little lake.

I nodded and walked down the rocky little trail. The path followed the shoreline closely and as I rounded a sharp bend, I saw him. He was sitting upon a well-rounded rock that half jutted out into the water.

He was shirtless and was wearing a pair of grey cargo shorts and sneakers without socks. Perched upon his head was an ancient oversized tan canvass bucket hat that was so ridiculous that it made him look absolutely precious.

His already tanned shoulders had the dark red burnish indicating more recent sun exposure. He held his fishing rod casually in his hand and as I watched he occasionally worked the line almost nonchalantly.

As he stared out at the still water surface he was chewing on a long stem of dried grass. My God! I thought. He's Huckleberry Finn.

My heart ached to hold him but I stood frozen just enjoying the wondrous beauty of him. I stood silently for long moments until I could stand it no more. "How are they biting?" I tried so hard to sound casual.

His head spun around and for just a moment he looked blankly at me. His face instantly lit up with recognition and happiness and he was off his rock perch and jumping onto me in moments.

Spinning rod cast aside, fishing forgotten, his arms were wrapped around my neck and his legs around my waist as he hugged me tightly and kissed me repeatedly. "You're back!" he didn't speak, he shouted. "Eric I missed you sooo much! I hated sleeping alone without you last night!"

"I hated sleeping without you, little man." It was a half lie and I felt no guilt over it. I held him tight to me but he was… well, he was Sean and pretty soon he was wiggling out of my arms and leading me to his spot by the lake edge.

"You should see how good I can fish, Eric! Dr. Swaim says I learned really fast an I'm a natural!"

I thought to myself, Little boy, you seem to be a natural at everything you do. I was smiling so hard that I was afraid my face would break.

He was talking a mile a minute and soon I was perched on his rock while he demonstrated his newly acquired skill at casting the line. I was impressed. He had learned quickly.

Almost on cue as he cast a fourth time, the lure was taken as soon as it hit the water. The rod in his hand bent into a sharp arch almost doubling in upon itself.

Like a little pro, Sean snapped the bale and gave the pole a tug to set the hook. He began playing the fish with a skill that bellied his short experience. Once I saw the creature break water in an attempt to throw the lure I knew that Sean had latched onto a large-mouth bass and was in for a thrilling fight.

"Holy guacamole!" he shouted. "This is sooo cool!"

His pink little tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on bringing the fish slowly to the shore. He was making cute little sounds but spoke no words… at least not that I understood.

It took about ten minutes but the fish eventually tired and yielded to the tug of the line Sean was so skillfully playing. Spying the net lying on the ground nearby I jumped up and scooped in the silvery prize as Sean pulled it in.

It was a very nice sized fish; about 13 inches [33 cm] and could certainly have been a keeper but Sean expertly removed the hook and gently wiggled the fish in the lake water until with one massive shake of its body it was revived and gone deep and away.

Sean looked at me with a serious face. I desperately tried not to giggle but the floppy hat he was wearing made him look very cute but very comical as well.

"The Professor says that we only keep the fish we're going to eat an the rest we let go so we can have the fun of catchin' them some other time." I nodded somberly at him trying to act as if he had just shared with me the secrets of the universe.

Just then from a short distance away, I heard a sound I hadn't heard in years. It was the clanging of the large metal triangle that hung from the overhang on the cabin front porch. Since the days that this was Pa Pop's retreat, it had been the cabin's dinner bell.

"We got plenty to eat Eric! Me an Walter caught a bunch this morning." He looped the hook of his lure around one of the cross braces on his reel and pulled the line taught. Locking the reel, he draped his pole over his shoulder and took my hand leading me down the pathway back to the cabin.

"Walter taught me how to clean fish this mornin'. I thought it was disgustin' at first but Walter explained that it's just fish guts it's not like its poop or nothing like that." He had a wonderful way of seeming to be enthused about everything he learned.

As we entered the clearing he was jumping up and down with his excitement and he called out, "Look guys! Look… Eric's back!" Walter and the professor were nice enough to pretend I had just fallen from the sky, greeting me as a new arrival.

I watched as Sean placed his rod onto the wooden rack mounted to the lake side of the cabin just (I was certain) as he had been taught to. I remembered this well because I had been taught to do the same thing when I was a little boy. The professor ushered Walter Sean and me into the cabin and seated us at the table.

"Now you must know, Eric, that the bulk of the bounty about to be placed before us is the result of the skill of our young angler extraordinaire," he nodded magnanimously at Sean who beamed with pride. He was wiggling in his chair as the steaming plates were placed on the table.

I am not as a rule a big fan of large-mouth bass as food. In general I find the meat to be a bit mushy and bland. The fish from Lake Eric, however, tended to be on the smaller side (normally no bigger than 14 inches [36 cm]) and the meat was generally firmer and sweeter than usual for the species.

Doctor Swaim, like my father and grandfather, was an artist when it came to preparing a fish meal and lunch was fantastic. He had even prepared a large platter of hushpuppies using his own secret flavoring that always set my taste buds to dancing.

The table talk was all about Sean and how easily he had adapted to the skills required to be a successful fisherman.

"By yesterday afternoon, I was able to let him go off on his own because he needed no further guidance from me. This morning Walter gave him instructions on the unpleasant but necessary procedures for preparing a fish to be eaten. What did Walter teach you Sean?"

"How to take out fish guts!" he said wrinkling his nose and grinning. "An choppin off the head and tails too!"

"Sean," I asked, turning to the boy seated beside me. "Where in the world did you get that outrageous hat?"

"The professor got it from upstairs," Sean answered.

Doctor Swaim looked across the table at me. "I'm rather shocked that you don't recognize it, Eric. It was yours. I gave it to you the first time you and I came here to fish together."

He smiled softly and recognition came rushing in. I was 13 that year. Kyle was 4 and just beginning to be fun, but the professor felt that I needed some 'attention to me' time.

He'd placed the hat on my head as soon as we'd arrived at the cabin telling me with a wink that it would help me catch fish. For at least two years I'd convinced myself that I couldn't fish successfully if I wasn't wearing it.

At some point in time I must have just left it in my room upstairs in the cabin and… like so many treasures of my wonderful childhood… just forgotten it.

"Since you're back from your business trip early, Eric, I hope you'll consider spending the night here at Fish Camp. You and Sean can spend the afternoon fishing and I'll prepare a pot of my world famous chili."

"Afterwards perhaps Sean will play the guitar for us. I took the liberty of having him bring the little old guitar from the music room with us yesterday. Sean plays and sings beautifully."

I smiled. It was so typical of Doctor Swaim. As brilliant as he was, he didn't understand or give credence to the intrinsic value of some things. The 'little old guitar' was the almost priceless Martin that had been Kyle's and which Sean had played for me on that unfortunate evening that now seemed so long ago. There were people in the world that would be horrified to learn that it had been allowed to be taken out of the house, let alone up to a cabin to be used in a fireside sing-a-long.

"Will you Eric?" Sean was looking at me pleadingly. "The professor says I'm in the room you used to use. We can sleep in your old bed. Will you? Could we?"

I reached over and put my arm around him squeezing his shoulder. I smiled. "I can't think of anything I'd rather do Sean and, besides, the Professor knows I'm a sucker for his chili"

Chapter 15

Too often we will attempt to grab and pull toward us something that we desire or think we need only to find as we open our hands that they are empty and the object that we craved has eluded us. This is not necessarily because our grasp has exceeded our reach but more likely because we did not understand what we were actually seeking in the first place.

The big room was dimly lit with the main illumination being the flickering glow of the fire in the large stone fireplace. The professor and I were sunk comfortably into the embrace of two ancient overstuffed chairs, each nursing a glass of the apple schnapps that he so adored and I found so tart and sweet as to be barely palatable.

A large red cushion was on the floor in front of the hearth. Sean was seated on it, one leg stretched out and one bent at the knee. Upon his lap, the fine old guitar sounded the delicate and sweet notes that both his hands worked intricately, but quite separately, to create. He had been playing and singing for us for over an hour and we both sat enchanted.

He had just completed a complex rendering of the melody on the six metal strings and now his untrained, but pure little boy soprano, sang the final words of the song that had been written so long before he had been born:

But of all these friends and lovers
There is no one compares with you
And these memories lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more

Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more
In my life I love you more

The final note from the guitar faded just slightly after his singing had ceased. He looked up at us and smiled. I returned his smile and nodded my head. There was nothing I could or needed to say.

"Extraordinary," Dr. Swaim muttered softly and rose from his chair. "On that most wonderful note, I shall bid you both a good night."

"G'nite professor," Sean spoke before me. "It was a neat day an' your chili was great."

It had, indeed, been a neat day. I'd sat upon the big round rock and served as net man while Sean fished the afternoon away. He'd landed and then released about six more nice-sized feisty bass and several placid bluegills. As the sun had dipped low in the late January sky, the day had gotten much cooler and we headed back to the cabin to wash up and have Sean put a warm shirt on.

I made two Jack Daniels and waters for the professor and myself. I'd been miffed to discover that there was no scotch in the cabin. I must do something about that.

Doctor Swaim was in the kitchen fussing with dinner, Sean was curled up at the end of the couch reading his book and I sat sipping my drink content to watch Sean and think my confusing thoughts.

And, the chili HAD been great. His chili was ALLWAYS great. It was just one of the many, many things that made Doctor Swaim such a mystery man.

I'd first tasted it when I was 13-years-old, that magical summer that he first came into my life. I was a raging fan from that moment on. Unlike what so many people thought of as chili, his was of the authentic Texas variety… no beans, no fillers just meat, peppers, tomatoes and onions. The recipe was his own and quite secret.

Over the years I'd learned a few things about it: he used 2/3 beef and 1/3 pork for the meat, three different types of chili peppers which he ground to powder himself and another two powdered spices the identities of which were known only to himself. He had some special method of pre-browning the meat that he kept hidden from prying eyes.

He'd made me a promise that he would share the complete recipe when I was 'worthy'. Exactly when that would be he never specified.

He'd simmered it for hours and served it to us in heaping bowls with slices of his own home made cornbread. Sean was hooked with his first mouthful.

Doc and I had washed ours down with ice cold beer drunk straight from the bottle. Sean had to settle for root beer, but seemed quite content with that.

After dinner we'd moved into the big room and, at the Doctor's request, Sean had gotten out the guitar.

As the large man disappeared up the stairs, Sean rose up from the cushion and carefully, lovingly placed the guitar into its case and moved it safely over against a wall.

Not moving from my chair, I opened my arms to him and he moved quickly over and crawled up onto my lap arms around my neck and his head resting on my chest and shoulder. I wrapped him in a comfortable embrace and we sat in that fashion for a long, long time. No words were spoken. We were content to be together locked in each others arms sharing our warmth and closeness.

Finally though, after the trauma of the past 24 hours and conflicting thoughts stemming from the professor's earlier conversation in the library, I needed to do more than hug; I needed to be even closer. I needed to share my deep strong feelings in a physical way.

I lifted him off my lap and stood him on the floor. I tugged gently at the hem of his shirt and he silently raised his arms into the air so that I could pull it off of him in one smooth motion. I popped the snap at the waist of his grey cargo shorts and pulled down the zipper. They dropped to the floor and he stepped out of them without a word.

Picking him up, I carried him across the room to the large red cushion he had been sitting on and laid him across it. I grasped the band of his underpants and worked them off his hips, down his legs and off.

The fire had almost died save for the large bed of coals that burned with barely a flicker. Aside from this red glow, the room was dark.

I knelt down on the floor and ran my hands slowly, but hungrily, all over his sleek young body. In the unbelievably short time that we had been together I already knew every perfect smooth inch of him. Every little crease, every sweet tasty bump, every nook and cranny. I smiled at that and thought, Yeah. He's my very own little English Muffin.

I lowered my head and pressed my lips against his. He was still not a very good kisser but what he lacked in skill he more than made up for in enthusiasm. I was so starved for the taste of him that I half feared I would smother him with my passion. I kissed him almost desperately as my hands continued to explore and caress.

Eventually I could restrain myself no longer and I moved down and engulfed his little cock in my mouth. Sucking urgently and torturing it with quick almost cruel swipes of my tongue, he was soon breathing hard and gasping as his little hips raised and lowered in tandem with my movement upon his wonderful little rod.

There was no pretense of subtlety here. I was trying urgently to bring him off quickly. I needed so badly to feel him in my hands as he writhed in the sublime bliss of his dry, youthful orgasm.

His exclamation of pleasure was an almost tearful cry as he gave himself over to the sudden waves of pleasure sweeping his beautiful body. He heaved and bucked until he was spent and then collapsed against the soft red surface beneath him breathing heavily but smiling broadly as he gazed at me.

I leaned in and quickly kissed each of his little nipples. When I looked back up his face had gotten serious. He reached out and pulled my head down toward him and he said very softly, "Nobody ever liked me like you do Eric. I hope you're always gonna like me even when I haffta go back."

My heart did a sudden flip but professor Swaim's warning ran in my mind, Do not say anything to him until you've made a decision.

I gathered his clothes up from the floor and then scooped him up throwing him sack-like over my shoulder. He began to giggle but I cautioned him that Doctor Swaim was sleeping.

We were almost at the top of the stairs when he farted. That was the end of that. He began laughing so hard I had to run down the hall to our room hoping that he hadn't awakened the sleeping professor. I threw him onto the bed and covered his mouth with one hand but, by then, I was laughing too.

I don't think there is anything in the world that a little boy finds quite as funny as a fart and there's nothing in the world I find quite as infectious as a little boy's laugh.

There was just a glimmer of light coming through the window when I woke the next morning. Sean was still sleeping, one arm and one leg across me in his typical fashion.

I carefully extricated myself out from under him, slid out of the bed and walked softly to the window.

It was like stepping back in time. I stood naked as I had once done in my then 8-year-old body all those long years ago when I'd first been allowed to spend the night here with Pa Pop. It had been a prideful day when my Grandfather had announced to everyone that 'Little E' was going to be his weekend fishing partner.

I remember my grandfather as a gentle, wise man. Who spoke softly, walked quietly and carried with him an aura of deep sadness. I was often told, when I'd grown older, that he had been quite a different person before my grandmother died. Her death was sudden and he took it very hard. I suppose he must have loved her greatly, though I couldn't say because she died before I was born and so I had no memories of her.

I remembered that wonderful first day fishing… just me and Pa Pop.

He would sing funny little songs as he fussed with me showing me how to tie the line to my hook using the blood knot. We had night crawlers for bait and were fishing for blue gills. He told me silly stories and occasionally hugged me for no apparent reason. He later cooked a fabulous fish dinner just for the two of us.

These were all things that he'd never done with me before and it made me feel so proud and important.

That night I had trouble going to sleep in the strange bed all by myself listening to the night noises from the woods surrounding the little cabin. It was my first night sleeping anywhere but my room in the big mansion and I wanted so much not to be afraid. It was scary being alone in the room like that but I endured it because I wanted to be brave for him.

Just like now, I had risen from my bed as the first grey light of dawn was slipping through the window and just like now, I had walked softly… naked and wondering… to gaze out upon the lake. It was just the same then as it was this very morning and I felt as though I was, once again, looking through my youthful eyes as the thick mist rose from the surface of the water.

I silently mouthed the words that I had actually spoken that morning so very long ago, "It's so beautiful."

I would have liked to have remained suspended in time like that for a while longer but when you've got to piss in the morning, nothing else takes precedent for very long.

I was 'shaking off the dew drops' as Kyle used to say when I heard the soft sound of bare feet on the tiles behind me. He was smiling while rubbing his eyes to clear the sleep away.

"Mornin' Eric!" he slid by me to take his place at the toilet. "I slept soooo good last night how about you?"

"It seems I always sleep very well when I spend the night here but you know what?" He looked over his shoulder as if asking for the answer. He was still peeing.

"I can't sleep in the bed in that other room. This is the only room… the only bed I've ever slept in here at Fish Camp and I guess it will always be that way. But, it's also the first time I've slept there with you and that was really special too."

The showers at the cabin are tiny single person affairs and so we took turns. It wasn't much fun, but we did stay in the bathroom to keep each other company.

Breakfast was pancakes. I sincerely believe that pancakes were the only thing Doctor Swaim knew how to make for breakfast because, as long as I'd known him, that was the only thing I'd ever seen him prepare.

Not that it mattered because his pancakes were wonderful and, even though Fish Camp was on the same 200 acres [80 ha] as Joyous Gaurde, there was something psychological about spending the night there that made you wake up with twice the appetite.

As the three of us sat eating… with the adults sipping our coffee and Sean drinking his milk… we discussed our plans. After breakfast Sean and I would pack away his fishing tackle and then he and I were going to go for a hike. When we returned we would head back to the big house and leave Doctor Swaim in peace.

He shared with me for the first time that he was indeed working on another book which was why he had so quickly embraced the chance to accept the tutoring assignment. The little cabin was an ideal spot to create in solitude.

He acknowledged that he could make good use of a weekend alone but that he would be down to the main house this evening so that we could select a room where Sean's formal schooling was to take place.

I mentioned that I'd been thinking that my grandfather's office in the old south wing might be perfect. He agreed that we'd look at it this evening. Fixing Sean with a firm but not unfriendly look he announced that 'school hours' would begin on Monday.

The property was only 200 acres [80 ha] but a large part of it was wooded and the naturally hilly terrain allowed for many twisting climbing and very interesting trails. In my youth I had explored them all either alone or later, when he was old enough, with Kyle. I was taking Sean to one of my favorite spots.

The trail hadn't been hiked in many years and had become overgrown through lack of use. We had to snake in between branches and bushes that had grown across the path that slowly but steadily climbed higher. Though overgrown it was still obvious enough to follow with relative ease.

When we broke through the last bit of bramble, we emerged out into a natural clearing at the top of the large hill that marked the highest point of the estate. While it couldn't be called a mountain by any standards, it was significantly higher than anything else around it and thus afforded a wonderful view of the property. The entire acreage was sprawled out park like below us and it was quite a sight. I could tell Sean was impressed although the closest that he came to waxing eloquent was to exclaim, "Wow."

After I'd allowed him to take in the view from different spots and angles I led him further down the path.

"Kyle and I used to call this Hawk's Hill because this is where the red tailed hawks build their nests and sometimes rest before swooping down upon their prey down there. We used to spy on their nests right after their eggs had hatched… it's the wrong time of year for that though. Come this way, I want to show you something else."

The top of the hill was crowned by a pile of massive boulders that had been pushed up and piled together by nature thousands of years ago, probably by a glacier during one of the ice ages. I was no geologist and Kyle had called them the 'giant's stones'. That had always worked for me.

I led him around the large rocks and through a passage between boulders that somehow seemed smaller than I remembered it. I guess I was a kid the last time I was here, I thought to myself.

It was off to the right just as I remembered it. It was a natural shelter formed by a fortuitous grouping of rocks. Once we crawled through the opening, the interior was more than high enough for Sean to be able to stand up comfortably while I had to stoop a bit.

"This was our fort," I almost whispered.

"We called it The Cave and it was our secret place. I don't think another soul knows that it exists. We used to tell each other that if we ever needed to hide, this was the place we could come and live like Indians or cavemen forever."

The fire ring that we had built in the center of the stone floor was untouched. Dark charcoal ashes and one partially burned log filed the circle of stones.

All of the crude wooden furniture we had made stood as it had been left. At the far wall the battered old foot locker that we had laboriously manhandled up here from the main house still rested undisturbed over the years. I walked over to it, snapped the latch and opened the top.

It didn't smell nearly as musty as I'd anticipated it would, and the piles of blankets, pillows and throw rugs that we had so stealthily sneaked out of the house so long ago were still neatly folded and seemed to be in remarkably good shape.

No varmints or mildew had invaded the sturdy chest. I closed the lid and reset the latch.

Against one of the walls a roughhewn set of shelves we'd constructed still held the pots and fry pans that Mrs. Edwards had pretended never to have noticed were missing from her kitchen.

"Come over this way Sean, I want to show you the cave paintings." He gave me a questioning look as I led him to the gallery… a relatively flat stone wall that was concealed behind an outcropping of rock.

Kyle had studied photos of the famous Ice Age cave painting from Lascaux, France and made a series of his own drawings. He'd hauled paint and brushes up the hill and, over the course of about six months, had illustrated the wall that I later christened the 'gallery'.

In a very clever imitation of the style of the ancient paintings, he had filled the area with all sorts of fantastic animals that had sprung from his fertile imagination. It was a wonderful piece of work, and once created, Kyle and I had a marvelous time giving all of his different creatures names.

I pointed out one of my favorites to Sean. It was a heard of strange animals with large hind legs, long snout-like mouths sprouting long sharp teeth and tiny tails. We had dubbed them Wolbits because we decided they were part wolf and part rabbit.

Sean was fascinated by the paintings and he studied them closely while I searched out a particular grouping from among the rest. I remembered it to be in the lower left part of the wall and, getting down on my knees, I found it almost at once.

It was two figures… very obviously human. One was almost twice as large as the other and the bigger one was brandishing a stick or a spear seemingly protecting the smaller one from the many beasts on the wall. Looking closely, you could see that on the chest of the larger figure Kyle had painted the letter 'E' while on the chest of the smaller was a 'K'.

On the ground off to the side of the painted wall I noticed a wooden box. I stooped down and opened it. There were five cans of paint that had obviously been opened used and then resealed.

Lying alongside these were three wood-handled paintbrushes of different sizes. While they had obviously been well used, they had been meticulously cleaned before being stored in the box. I picked up the larger one and rolled the handle between my fingers. The last hand to have touched this had been Kyle's.

I swallowed hard and took a deep breath. I lovingly replaced the brush in the box and sealed it again.

Sean was looking at me with questions written all over his face. He had no way of knowing.

I looked back at him and smiled. It amazed me as I did this because I suddenly realized that there were no ghosts waiting for me here. Just memories… very happy memories.

We crawled back out through the opening and into the sun light. I stood up and dusted myself off… my mind a jumble of memories and thoughts. I didn't realize he was beside me until I felt his arms come around me and tighten into a hug.

"Thanks, little man," I said as I raised the funny floppy hat off his head and ruffled his hair. "I really needed that."

We arrived back at the big house about an hour later. While Sean sat in the kitchen eating fresh-baked cookies and talking to Martha, I ducked into my study to see what phone messages there were since I'd left for the city. So much had happened in such a short time that it seemed like I'd flown out a week ago.

I played the recording through and took a few notes and then walked back to the kitchen.

"Well Sean," I said with a big smile, "Official congratulations are in order. There was a phone message from Coach Riorden officially telling you that you are on the swim team! The welcoming dinner is Monday so we've got to high tail it out to Strothers and pick up your club blazer."

He was grinning from ear to ear and Martha was hugging him and congratulating him like he had just thrown the winning pitch in the last game of the World Series.

While Sean was being treated as the all-conquering hero, I placed a call to Jacob Strothers to ensure Sean's blazer was ready to be picked up. He assured me that it was and if we could come in today, they'd like to do a final fitting on some of the other tailored garments I'd ordered for him.

I sent Sean upstairs to shower and change and then called back to the garage to have John bring the limo up for us.

I sat behind the desk in my study sipping on a whiskey while I waited for Sean. My mind was filled with all of the emotions and questions that had been raised during the past few days.

I had thought my major problem had been handled when I 'slew the monster' and did the right thing by young Jack, but now I realized that had been only part of it. Doc Swaim had now forced me to start evaluating what my actual relationship with Sean was going to be.

In what manner did I want to keep him in my life or, for that matter, did I really want to keep him at all?

Said like that it sounded so cold and calculated, but when spelled out as the Doctor had done, it made complete sense. Did I simply want a little boy around to have fun with almost like a toy… or did I want to keep a growing boy in my life to nurture and watch grow with all the problems that would involve? AND… If I did, what would be my role in his life? Father? Brother? Lover?

I swallowed the last mouthful of scotch and shook my head. I don't know. God help me, I just don't know.

"Are we taking the Red Cat?" I spun toward the door jarred from my introspection.

God he looked so beautiful wearing a dark blue polo shirt and white shorts. He had obviously left the floppy hat upstairs and that suited me just fine.

"Not today buckaroo. John's going to take us in the limo."

"Cool! I can tell John that I made the team."

I reached out and took his hand and we walked out the back and toward the waiting limo."If you'd like, you can ride up front with John and tell him all about it Sean."

He gave me a huge grin and ran across the pavement to the car. "John! John! Guess what?"

He paid no attention to the fact that John was standing there holding the rear door open for us. Instead, he opened the right front door and slid into the car. John was smiling as I got into the rear passenger compartment giving him a smile and a shrug of my shoulders as I did.

Sean began talking a mile-a-minute as soon as John had turned the ignition. I slid open the walnut door of the built in bar, made myself a drink and settled back into my seat to listen.

I couldn't help but smile as I picked up bits of his chatter.

"I knew that day but I wasn't supposed to tell nobody… The seven of us guys are the best he's seen in a long time he says we're going to do great… We're gonna go to swim meets all over the place… I just wanna do so excellent because I know I can, John… Monday we gotta go to this fancy dinner at the club that's why we gotta go pick up my club blazer today. I didn't even know I was gonna have a club blazer…"

I winced thinking to myself, How can such an intelligent boy speak such terrible English when he's excited?

At some point Sean finally came up for air and John jumped into the (up until then) one sided conversation, "You know, Sean, there's another kind of pool that's a lot of fun too."

The boy looked at him with a totally blank face.

"There's a very nice pool table in the game room. Maybe some time I could teach you to play. Every guy should know how to play a game of 8-Ball or 9-Ball."

"Could you John? Would you teach me how to play?"

"Only if it's all right with Eric."

"It's OK, isn't it Eric? Could John teach me how to play pool?"

I couldn't help but laugh. "Well Sean, if you're going to learn your way around a pool table, I suppose nobody could teach you better than a genuine hustler,"

John glanced at me from the rear view mirror. He was smiling broadly. "I resemble that remark Boss."

"You certainly do." I replied smiling as I freshened up my drink.

I'd first met John when I was 16. I was going through that stage that most young men about to bust out into maturity pass through. I wanted so desperately to be 'cool'.

While I wasn't trying to be rebellious against my parents (I actually never did that), I wanted to be something more than how I felt people saw me. I didn't know it then, but I was about eight months away from recognizing my sexual orientation and the inner confusion that I hadn't defined for myself yet, undoubtedly aided my youthful search for an identity.

Hanging around the pool hall in town, for some reason seemed, like such a good idea to me at the time.

Although I'd enjoyed a wonderful life of great privilege, the down-side was that I was rather ignorant regarding the workings of the 'real' world.

I'd learned how to handle a cue on both a pool and a billiard table and, like most everything I'd put my hand to, I'd become more than proficient. My only experience however, was friendly competition with family or friends in the safety and comfort of our game room. I certainly knew nothing about 'playing for money' 'house rules' or 'hustling;.

I was in trouble the first time I picked up a cue from the rack on the wall in Arnie's Place. While it was not exactly a dive or even a terribly disreputable place, a certain type of people tended to hang out there and some questionable actions were either tolerated or overlooked completely.

It reeked of stale beer and the air was thick with cigarette smoke. I did not find the atmosphere exciting as I'd imagined I would, I found it unpleasant. I figured in my teenaged foolishness that I needed to tolerate it if it was required to be 'cool'.

Obviously wet behind the ears. I was spotted as an 'easy mark' by one of the regulars. After explaining the 'house rules of 8 Ball', I was coerced into a game with him and, 'to make it interesting', I accepted a wager of $10 a game.

Using what I now realize is a typical hustler's tactic; he played poorly so that I 'won' the first two games handily at which point he asked if I'd 'give him a chance to break even' and double the bet. It was at this point that he would begin to play using his genuine skills and beat my ass (and wallet) all over the hall.

The problem for him was that, although I was a novice at 'Pool Hall 8 Ball', I was technically a better shooter than he was and I continued to win despite his best efforts. Pretty soon he was broke and frustrated and became convinced that I was, in fact hustling, HIM.

Looking at the dirty old clock hanging on the wall I realized that the evening had gotten late and that I'd better be heading for home. I reached down to pick up the stack of bills that I'd won and his hand flew down and grabbed my wrist.

"Not so fucking fast kid!" he was almost spitting in his anger. "I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but you don't get away with pulling that kind of shit around here!"

I was flabbergasted and I was afraid. I was considerably smaller than this guy and, frankly, had no idea what I'd done to make him so angry. Obviously the money meant nothing to me but he had no way of knowing that.

"Take your hand off that kid Stinny," a figure from the shadow said to my assailant. "You just got a taste of your own bullshit. This kid kicked your ass."

The figure walked up and stood next to me. He stood well over six feet [1.80 m] tall, a black sleeveless tee shirt stretched over his broad shoulders and his biceps bulged. His whole presence spoke of raw pent up power.

"Ok John. Take it easy but I still think this kid's a fuckin hustler."

"Takes one to know one, Stinny. Now get the hell out of here before I kick your ass just for the fun of it… and don't let me ever hear about you bustin' his balls when I'm not around! Hear me?" My former assailant slunk away.

"I'm John." He had a wonderful smile and his dark eyes sparkled through the gloom of the smoke-filled room as he held out his hand to me.

"Eric." I said shaking his hand and smiling back at him.

"I watched you Eric… you shoot good where did you learn?"

"Oh, we've got a pool table at my house I've been sort of playing since I was little."

"It shows. Come-on, shoot a game with me… just for fun… no money.'

"I-I really have to call a cab I'm going to be VERY late getting home."

"Don't worry. I'll drive you home after we play… just one game."

That was the day I learned what a REAL pool shark could do. I shot my best which was pretty good but he sank the 8 ball leaving me with four balls still on the table.

He smiled and clapped me on the arm. "I was pretty sure I could beat ya. I just wanted to make certain. I had to let everybody see that I'm still the king." His grin was dazzling and the dimples in his cheeks enhanced his already friendly attractive face. "Come on, I'll take you home" he tugged at my elbow.

We walked out the back door of the pool hall and out to his car. I could tell from twenty feet away that the sleek black thing was no ordinary Camaro. John had 'made a few modifications' and' once we hit the road' they became obvious.

He began telling me about things like horsepower and torque and gear ratios… all things that went way over my head. While I may not have understood what he was telling me, I certainly recognized the knowledgeable way he explained the changes he's made to his car and the obvious pride in his voice as he spoke.

We talked as he drove and I found myself instantly drawn to this big friendly, straightforward guy. He was about five years older than I was and explained he'd been traveling the country looking for something to do and some place to 'settle in for a while'.

He was an ASE Certified Master Automotive Technician who couldn't keep a job because he refused to pad his repairs or recommend work that wasn't needed to customers. "My father taught me to be honest and to earn an honest dollar… no more, no less. So now I make my money playing pool and fixing cars on the side. I charge a fair price for my car work and I shoot my pool straight and honest and, you know what' Eric… I sleep REAL good at night."

He pulled up to the gate and I entered the code and I think about then he was wondering just what kind of person he'd picked up. When the house came into view he let out a whistle. "Holy crap Eric… you work HERE?"

"No John, I don't work here, I live here."

He hit the brakes and stared at me. "No shit?"

"I'm not kidding. Come on and park the car. I'll show you around."

Life is fortuitous some times. A week previously our long time driver, Mathew, had resigned in order to go back east and run his father's hardware store. My father was in the process of interviewing potential replacements but he yet hadn't found anyone who seemed a good fit for the job.

On a hunch, I introduced him to John and the two of them talked for quite a while. They hit it off from the very start. At some point, John took Dad for a ride in the black Camaro. When they came back they were laughing and Dad was slapping him on the back.

By the end of the week John was moving into the big apartment over the garage and he'd been there ever since.

Who better to teach Sean how to play pool… and help him learn how to be a decent human being in the process?

The fittings at Strothers did not go as quickly or simply as Jacob had anticipated. Too much had gone on in his young life the past few days and it was a chore getting Sean to stand still so that final measurements could be made and marked on the rough tailored garments.

Besides the Club Blazer, I had ordered two suits and two sport jackets to be made for the boy just in case we needed them.

Poor Albert looked like he was going to keel over from stress as he attempted to make the markings on the garments so they could be taken into the back and completed.

Finally finished, he carried the now marked garments into the back muttering softly to himself while Jacob placed a nice Strothers' vinyl bag over Sean's grey Club Blazer and navy blue trousers.

"The other pieces should be ready to pick up by Wednesday, Eric. If Albert survives this fitting," he laughed as he walked us to the door. Sean had no idea what we were joking about.

We arrived back home just as the Professor was pulling up in his golf cart. We strolled down to the library and I made us each a drink. With these in hand we walked down the far hall and took a different elevator up to the second floor of a seldom used wing off the old part of the house,

The second door down the hall opened into the large room that had been my grandfather's personal office back in the days when he ran a good portion of the family enterprise from home. It was large and bright with rich oak paneling on the walls. There was a large desk at one end and an huge oak table in the middle of the room.

"What a magnificent space," Dr. Swaim exclaimed. "This will do nicely as a class room and place of exploration." He clapped a huge hand on Sean's shoulder. "We'll meet here Monday morning at 9 AM sharp young man… is that all right?"

"Yes professor Swaim, that sounds super," The small boy replied as he looked up at the big man.

"After supper, get together with Walter and tell him everything you'll need up here professor… computers, supplies, books whatever. He'll have you set up by Monday. Oh, and also tell him to put a case of Glen Fiddich on your cart to take back to the cabin for me. Next time I visit I don't want to have to drink that bourbon of yours." He raised an eyebrow but held his piece. "I assume you'll be staying for dinner… Martha's making pot roast with ginger snap gravy and I've just gotten in a case of a very special Merlot I think you'll like."

He let loose with his deep Santa Claus laugh. "Since you asked so nicely, how can I refuse?"

As the three of us walked down the hall to the elevator I was thinking, Monday is going to be a very busy day for this little boy. I'd better come up with something fun for us to do over the weekend.

I'd lagged behind. Sean and the Doctor were ahead of me engaged in a lively conversation. I contented myself with watching his little ass wiggle in his white shorts as he walked.

Chapter 16

We're off to the sports club dinner and then… we're going to skip ahead in time a little bit

Strangely, at those times when life has acquired a certain pleasing rhythm and sits upon us thickly and sweetly flowing along smoothly like warm honey, we will often fail to appreciate our satisfaction or, when we do, will make mental or verbal apologies for our current lack of distraction and disaffection… as if to be living a happy existence should be a cause for embarrassment.

We reach an inner spiritual and mental accord when we come to the realization that comfort and contentment are not states of mediocrity or failure but rather, are a desirable condition (however briefly they may be maintained) in the course of this all too short life.

Nature intervened upon my plans for an active outdoor weekend. A cold, January rain swept rapidly in from the west and, as so often happens, it stalled above us depositing life giving water upon the earth in icy torrents driving us ungrateful and petulant humans indoors to spend our time sullenly sheltered under our good roofs behind our strong warm walls. There would be no hiking or fishing. No hours at the trap range… no playing catch out on the grass.

Not that we lacked for amusement within the confines of Joyous Gaurde.

John was summoned from his apartment across the teaming parking lot and down to the game room to begin Sean's tutelage as a future 'stick'… a term of respect and affection bestowed upon a skilled pool player.

The first order of business was the location and retrieval of a fortuitously remembered step stool so that the small boy had legitimate access to the flat, felted surface of the adult sized table.

John was not a harsh instructor but he was precise and thorough. He made no assumptions regarding Sean's knowledge of the game. He chose to start with the very basics taking time to explain the significance of each tiny detail.

Unlike many boys his age, Sean didn't attempt to rush or dissuade John from the explanation and demonstration of these basics in order to get on with the 'fun stuff". Instead, he listened and watched intently often interrupting with pertinent and well thought-out questions. I mentally noted that this seemed to be Sean's approach to all new things and was probably one of the reasons that he seemed to excel at almost everything he put his hand and mind to.

I watched, without interrupting, admiring, as always, the artistic manner John wielded a cue… the precision with which his eyes and mind worked out the complex geometrical problems and relayed the solution to his waiting and capable hands.

After about a half an hour, I decided to leave them to it. It was obvious they were enjoying their mutual enterprise as well as each others company.

Both had been smiling and laughing as I retired to my study and poured some of my favorite amber spirit over two ice cubes; sipping as I leaned back in my chair.

The rain was having an effect upon my attitude and I was looking for some diversion to drive away my morose mood. I decided to place a call to Uncle Phil.

We hadn't seen each other or, for that matter, even spoken since that wonderful Monday we had met together in this very room and he had presented the videos that were my first glimpse of the dark haired angel that a compassionate heaven later sent to save my foolish life.

Uncle Phil naturally wanted to know how things were developing and I did my best to fill him in on all of the amazing things that had occurred in the short time since I'd fetched the boy from the nest.

Unlike Doctor Swaim, he asked no probing questions but instead he seemed content to listen to my commentary and enjoy hearing about my new found happiness. I didn't reveal or discuss any of my inner turmoil concerning what the future held in store for Sean… and for me.

Steering the conversation in a different direction I explained that I felt I had finally regained a level of mental and emotional stability. With that said, it was time I began taking an active interest in the family business at some level. Actually, it had occurred to me that effective Monday, Doctor Swaim and the swim team would be taking up a good deal of Sean's time and I frankly needed some personal diversion.

Absently, I glanced at my now empty tumbler and felt the prickle of an unexpressed thought ping through my mind. It had the feel of an unpleasant idea and so I pushed it away into some hidden recesses.

"You know Uncle Phil," I laughed a bit too theatrically "I can't live every minute just for one eleven year old boy. I need something more to do with myself."

Before breaking the connection, it was agreed that we would get together Monday morning while Sean was with the Professor, and we'd review some possible active involvement I could have in some or all of the family enterprises that he managed so capably.

I threw two fresh ice cubes into my crystal glass and splashed single malt over them. There was no little tingling mental objection this time, so I took a long sip and leaned way back in my chair staring at the ceiling.

I allowed two thoughts to rise to the surface of my consciousness, I'm drinking far too much and far too often. I wonder if I've actually passed the point where I can even control it anymore. That thought was entirely too troubling and so I pushed it away and let the second ascend, I lied to Uncle Phil. If I had my choice I'd spend every waking moment with Sean. I'd smother him with my love and attention… I'd… I pushed that idea away as well. It was almost as disturbing as the first.

Sean had come into my life and this little boy had somehow been strong enough to lift me out of the fog; to extricate me from the emotional muck I'd allowed myself to sink into and had dragged me up and into the clear light of sanity and reality.

If I was to continue operating on this plane of clarity however, I was going to be forced to make decisions. Decisions that were based upon reality and… because I'd allowed him to become involved… because I'd allowed him to begin his rescue of my foul lost soul, those decisions would concern him just as much as they did me.

They would have to be fair, right decisions not emotional ones. My mind and heart ached with the pain of these realizations. I made myself another drink and finished it quickly not allowing pesky concerns over it emerge for consideration.

The rest of the weekend was spent leisurely. We swam naked for hours with me finding myriad excuses to touch his water slick skin.

John came back in on Sunday spending a couple of hours of instruction in the game room.

Sean and I spent a great deal of wonderfully lazy time lying on one of the large sofas in the library reading. We laid, each at a separate end with our heads propped upon pillows playing footsie with our stockinged feet as we turned our pages.

All too quickly it was Monday. After breakfast, we parted with a sweet kiss. He scampered off to meet the professor in the newly converted 'classroom' and I walked down to my study to wait for Uncle Phil. I couldn't shake the feeling that life was about to settle into a routine. If that's the case, I thought, it doesn't feel like a bad thing.

I stood in front the mirror and looked at my own image not entirely displeased. It had been over four years since I'd worn my grey Deer Run Club blazer and, remarkably, it still fit me quite well. My extended excursion into madness had not destroyed body's overall fitness though I noted there were areas that had grown soft and it didn't take much of an imagination to see the very slight beginnings a paunch at my middle.

I made myself a promise to begin a more regular program of workouts noting with a silent chuckle that more time spent swimming in the pool as opposed to grabbing Sean's cute little ass would help tremendously.

"Eric, could you please help me?… Oh boy! You look terrific!" Sean had come walking into the dressing area waving both ends of his blue and red club tie which lay unknotted around his neck.

"Thanks champ you look pretty great yourself," I responded with a smile.

He looked wonderful in his navy slacks, crisp white shirt and brand new grey blazer with embroidered club patch.The colors made his startling blue/green eyes appear almost turquoise.

His thick black hair had not yet been brushed. The shaggy locks falling over his ears and down upon the collar of his shirt set his beautiful face off to perfection. I noted, almost mournfully, that he would be needing a haircut soon.

His face had been fixed in a serious expression as he walked into the room fussing with the tie, but he'd broken into a smile upon seeing me. Now, as he noticed how I was looking at him in return, the smile became an impish grin and he spread his arms as if he were on display. Which, truth be told, he was.

"Come over here and stand in front of me and watch in the mirror what I do."

I leaned over him and slowly worked the silk cravat into a half Windsor knot, pulling it snug and finally pinching it into perfection. He looked stunning and I suppose he knew it because he broke into a wide smile as he viewed his own reflection critically while I ran a brush through his hair.

As we walked down the stairs in our matching outfits, he began to giggle.

"What's so funny, Sean?"

"It's been a while since we had a dress code around here," he snickered. I reached over his shoulder and hugged him into me. I didn't need to say anything.

Sean made as if to get into the front seat of the limo but John stopped him. "Oh, no. You look way too snazzy to ride up front. Into the back with you, Sean."

From the look on the boy's face, you'd have thought that he'd just been slapped which melted John at once. He reached out and took the boy by the shoulders stooping down to be at his eye level. "Sean, I'm just kiddin' with you but you've got to understand… when you're going to some place formal and fancy like this thing tonight, it doesn't look good for you to ride in the front. That's why you have a limousine in the first place. When it's over, you can ride up front with me and tell me all about it. For now though, ride in the back with Eric. I'm even going to close the glass divider between us before we pull into the club. OK?"

"Kay." Sean replied, but I could tell from his tone that he wasn't actually convinced nor did he really understand why things had to 'look good'. There wasn't an ounce of pretense in this boy's body but he trusted me and he trusted John so he slid in back next to me. John gave him a smile and a wink as he closed the door on us and I gave him a hug as we headed down the long driveway.

The Club was crowded. John pulled up front, jumped out and held the door opened for us while standing in his most formal manner. Before stepping out of the limo, I doubled checked with him as to what time he should return to pick us up. I knew he probably had some pool games lined up at Arney's Place tonight and he just loved pulling up to that seedy joint in the limo.

Inside, the club was a sea of grey blazers. The introduction and welcoming of the swim team was a major social event at Deer Run.

There were in actuality four complete teams being introduced tonight, (the girls teams would be introduced at a separate affair tomorrow)… Division 4 was the 11-12-year-olds. Division three, the 13-14-year-olds, division Two were the 15-16-year olds and division one was the senior grouping made up of 17-18-year-olds.

The Division 4 and 3 teams were the largest and were always the Club's pride and joy. As in many things, as boys grew into their upper teens, other interests and diversions drew them away from the discipline of organized swimming hence the teams grew smaller.

While I had been an above average swimmer in my youth, Kyle had been outstanding. He'd been a standout in Division 4 but had really bloomed in Division 3. He would have faced some wonderful competition when he moved up into Division 2 had he lived to do so. I shook my head to clear it reminding myself that I'd made a promise to avoid all depressing thoughts this evening and to concentrate only on the happy anticipation surrounding Sean and his new team.

We crossed the lobby to sign in and pick up our tickets and as we were doing so I heard a chorus of young voices from across the room; "There he is!"

"Sean! Hey Sean!"

There was the sound of young feet running on the rust colored carpet and suddenly Sean was in the midst of a group of boys whom I recognized as the six he'd been with upon leaving the tryouts last week. They were the group that Coach Riorden had secretly designated as already qualified for the team that very afternoon.

They were all immediately engaged in an animated conversation, gesturing and jumping… not a one of them seemingly capable of standing still for five minutes.

I watched them with a smile. They were as attractive a group of boys as I'd ever seen but my Sean was the gem of the group. His eyes flashed and hands moved in swift bird like gestures as he spoke. The other six hung rapt on his every word. They were the elite of their genre and he was their instinctively recognized leader.

My bemused observation was interrupted by a hand suddenly clasping my shoulder. I turned and saw Clay Riorden smiling at me. My first reaction was to think to myself that his hair was so grey that it almost perfectly matched his Club blazer. Other than that however, he looked as fit as I remembered him when he'd coached me as a teenager.

"Well Eric, what do you think of the Seven Samurai?" he said with a smile as he indicated the clutch of boys.

"Excuse me?" I hoped I didn't look as confused as I sounded.

"That's what I've begun to call them in my mind, the Seven Samurai… like in that old Jap movie. I think that these boys are going be the core of the best Division 4 team this club has ever produced and…" he lowered his voice at this point, "your Sean is going to be the heart and soul of the whole group unless I'm badly mistaken."

Before I had the opportunity to respond, they were calling us into the dining room for the banquet. At the door he headed off to his place at the front dais while Sean and I located our designated seats at the Division 4 table.

While excited young chatter circled and crossed the table, I pondered Clay's appellation for the group of boys. The Seven Samurai was a classic 1950's Japanese movie by legendary director Akira Kurosawa. It was about a group of seven Ronin (samurai with no master to serve) who accept the task of defending a small village against a large gang of bandits and succeed against all odds.

The entire concept was later blatantly stolen by Hollywood and turned into the wonderful western; The Magnificent Seven. I wondered if either of these honorifics would mean anything to these boys. Perhaps I'd have to arrange for a private screening of both films. How would 11 and 12 year olds handle sub-titles for the Japanese film? I wondered and then recalled that the action was so fast and vivid they probably wouldn't care.

I filed that idea away for future consideration. We'll see how they live up to expectations I decided.

The meal was mediocre as such things tend to be and the speeches were too long and, of course, too predictable but then, this night was not for the adults it was for the kids who would be doing the actual competition.

Sitting up front in the limo, a very animated Sean delivered a blow by blow account of the entire banquet to an amused John. "And John," Sean excitedly added, "Coach took the seven of us guys aside and told us we had a special name… we're the Seven sammerfries!"

John let out a loud guffaw which he'd tried desperately to suppress. I reached over the seat and patted Sean's shoulder. "That's the Seven Samurais." I tried not to sound as amused as I was. "I'll explain all about it to you tonight."

I glanced into the mirror and saw that John was looking very much like the famous cat that had eaten the canary. "So John," I tried to sound casual, "how was YOUR evening?"

With a smile, he reached into his inside jacket pocket and withdrew a thick stack of bills I could see the reflection of his grin in the mirror. "Eric, let's just say that I'm buying the ice cream tonight."

I reached over and patted his shoulder. "Long live the King!" I said with a smile.

***

January ended wet and chilly. February was passing in much the same manner; interspersing bright warm glorious stretches with cold, wet, grey days that chilled the bone and dulled the spirit. This is how winter strives to break your heart in this part of the country… by trying desperately to blunt the hope and expectation of spring.

I spent my mornings reviewing reports that were now being sent to me on an increasingly regular basis. Every Monday I met with Uncle Phil and together we discussed what action was or was not required to facilitate the smooth flow of commerce that was the life blood of the family fortune. Every day I noticed he seemed to put more and more credence on my in-put. We'd finally reached a point where I no longer felt that he was simply humoring me during these weekly meetings.

Sean spent his mornings behind the closed door of my grandfather's old office which was now the secret chamber of Dr. David Swaim, the Wizard of Joyous Gaurde.

I never even poked my nose inside the classroom because what was going on in there was a process shared by the two of them. I only knew that Sean was never reticent to start the day's 'learning adventure' and he always left the room excited and eager.

We had our weekends and afternoons to ourselves except for swim team practice three times a week and Saturday swim meets. The team was having a record season and the so-called 'Seven Samurai' were exceeding expectations. Sean was becoming something of a gold medal monster and the little guy was getting used to seeing his name, and often his picture, in the sports section of the local newspaper.

I'd started a scrapbook and was making plans to display his awards. I'd originally considered some new shelves in 'Father's Alter' but that just didn't feel right. My current idea was to create a large niche in the wall of the hall leading past the library.

I was seated in a soft arm chair in the library reading a magazine. My interest in the world and its events had been slowly rekindled.

Sean was lying on the sofa, knees up engrossed in his latest book. One of the results of his time spent with the professor was that he'd become a voracious reader. He was currently reading Melville's Moby Dick which I considered ambitious for an 11 year old. I myself had not read it until I was 13.

"Eric, did you know they make perfume outta whale puke?" that one came right out of left field.

"What?"

"Yeah, they make 'spensive perfume and stuff outta whale puke."

My mind clicked back into gear. Aha! He's reached chapter 92, I thought. I placed my magazine aside. "You must be talking about ambergris," I said.

"Yeah, that's it. I read about it here in Moby Dick and when I asked the Professor about it, he told me to do some research. They make perfume out of ambragrass… whale puke."

"First off, it's 'ambergris' not 'ambragrass' and it's not REALLY whale puke." I got up from my chair and motioned him over to me. "It's a substance that is found in the bowels and intestines of sperm whales and it helps them digest things that they eat. Sometimes the whales do puke it out but most often they poop it out or it just stays inside them.

"In the old whaler days like in Moby Dick, they'd get it out of the body of a whale they'd killed but now that we mostly don't kill whales anymore, all the ambergris we get is found floating on the ocean or washed up onto a beach. Here…" I pulled a glass display box down from one of the shelves alongside the fireplace and opened it. It contained a dark gray irregular item about the size of a baseball. I handed it to Sean.

"My father and I found this chunk floating in the water off the Coast of St. Johns Island in the Caribbean. When it's fresh from the whale it's white and smells like poop… really bad, but after time it turns dark like this and smells… well you smell it."

Sean cautiously held the chunk to his now crinkled nose. I knew that he would smell a sweet, woodsy musty odor rather like animal musk. I could tell from his expression that he'd been expecting a horrible stench and was pleasantly surprised.

He grinned and said, "That's a pretty good smell for whale puke!" I just shook my head and placed the chunk of ambergris back in its display case.

That night we lay in bed listening to the fierce tattoo of the hard driven rain outside. I was on my back and he lay on top of me. I was occupied with dancing my tongue against his as our lips crushed into each other.

Sean had become a decidedly better kisser and, with the improvement in his technique, came an increased desire to participate in that most pleasant of activities. I was not so distracted that I didn't notice his hard little cock pressing into my belly as his hips undulated grinding it subtly against me. I knew what he wanted but was always too shy to ask for.

I slid my hands in between us and tapped my shoulders. "Slide up and sit here." I whispered.

He quickly was sitting upon my chest and shoulders and I reached around and grasped his firm little ass pulling him up and over until his iron-hard little boy prick was in reach of my hungry tongue and lips.

I slipped one hand up and spread my fingers across his back while the other remained on his soft bottom. Gently but firmly I bent him over so that his cock slid into my waiting mouth. I closed my lips around the hot little spike while my hand ran along his back and sides, massaging and stroking in hard passionate motions as my tongue and lips devoured his hard tool.

It only took moments before he was moving in a rhythm to match my sucking and licking. His little ass was rising and falling as he instinctively sought to pump his tiny prick into my all-too-eager face. I countered this by locking my lips tightly around his hard flesh so that he was forced to take control of his own pleasure.

He pumped with increasing speed and energy and I spurred him on by brushing his cock with snake like strokes of my tongue while at the same time teasing his little rosebud with the fingers of the hand that now guided but did not control his humping ass.

I could tell by his breathing and the almost agonized noises he was making that he was close. I stroked his little asshole and reached around grasping his scrotum which was pulled tight against his body. I gently tugged and softly stroked the firm tiny sack and he froze for a split second before driving his cock as deep into my mouth as it would go.

His body was wracked in spasms and thrusts as he cried out in the euphoria of his massive dry orgasm. Finally, moaning in pleasure, he rolled over and onto his back his face gleaming.

We were learning how to give and receive pleasure from each other and, when these blissful moments were over, I was tortured by the knowledge that this was in no way helping me to make the intelligent decisions that would all too soon be forced upon me.

What in the hell was I supposed to do? When we were naked and in bed together everything seemed all too easy and obvious but I understood that this was the deception of the flesh. I wondered but found no answer here. My mind was torn in a dozen directions when he rolled back over on top of me and slid down my body until he was kneeling between my legs.

He lowered his head down to my groin and teasingly swirled his little tongue around my very erect shaft. He raised his face up to look at me. His eyes sparkled in the faint light and his grin was a wicked little boy grin.

"I bet this is better than any old ambergris," he giggled before closing his lips around the end of my cock.

Sometime later in the darkness as, we slept wrapped into each other, the rain stopped and we woke into a morning that glistened gold and green.

Is Eric any closer to making his decision? What will it take drive him to this epiphany?

The Seven Samurai will watch the movies and Sean is going to do something that results in serious and unexpected ramifications

New Characters: The Seven Samurai introduced: Buddy (12yo), Rico (11yo), Matty (12yo), Mike (12yo), Bulldog (12yo), Charlie (11yo), No, I didn't miscount; you've already met the 'Samurai Sean'.

We are never more perfectly human than when we recognize we have committed an offense and seek to make an honest restitution. An unfortunate aspect of our nature though, will often cause us to attribute more significance to our transgressions than are actually perceived by a generally forgiving world.

Inevitably, we will seek absolution via a chastisement that in actuality exceeds the magnitude of the infraction itself.This need or desire to "make right our wrongs", is the very essence of what we call honor and yet this action of penance for sin does not in truth gain us any real moral nobility. It simply sustains our inherent quest for goodness.

Honor is a grace we are born with. It is part of our chi; integral with our soul. We can never earn honor. We can only lose it.

The laughter and general cacophony of young voices filled the air as perceptibly as the smoke and aroma of the cooking meat. The day was golden, the sky an almost blinding cloudless blue; the air welcomingly warm and the atmosphere decidedly celebratory.

The big table on the patio was occupied by cadre of pre-pubescent boys sharing camaraderie, joy and triumph as only these most magical of heaven's creatures are capable of doing "How is it possible that seven little guys can eat so much?" a mystified, but smiling John asked as he filled another platter with hamburgers fresh off the grille.

I just shook my head and with as serious face as I could muster replied, "I don't know. I Suspect it is one of those deep secrets of nature that science has yet to unravel." I watched as Walter plopped another helping of barbeque beans onto the upheld plate of a smiling brown haired 12 year old who was back for his third helping by my informal reckoning.

The County Swim season had ended very successfully for the Deer Run Athletic Club Division Four Boys Team. More trophy's, medals and ribbons had been brought home than by any previous team in the long history of the Club.

The core of the team. the so-called 'Seven Samurai' had all garnered their share of the treasure and had each qualified to move on to the Regional Matches which would begin next week. In celebration, Sean was hosting a sleepover movie/swimming party for his six friends and team mates.

I had followed through on my idea from weeks ago and had obtained copies of the original classic Japanese movie as well as the American western remake, 'The Magnificent Seven'. Although I'd heard rumors that such a version existed, I had been unable to locate a copy of 'Seven Samurai' with dubbed English dialogue and therefore had to settle on a version with sub-titles.

My original concern in this regard proved to be well founded. Although my memory and admiration of the movie remained intact, to a group of 11-12 year old boys, it proved to be less than a smashing success. I realized that it wasn't just the subtitles. To new, young eyes, the film sadly came across as corny and in many places boring.

All of the genius and innovation that had made it such an international phenomenon in 1954 has been copied with such frequency that today, if seen for the first time, much of the movie seems trite and commonplace. The boys, including Sean, were unimpressed and, (I was fairly certain) bored by it.

There was enough violence to elicit occasional hoots and hollers from the pint sized critics lounging lazily on the plush seats in the media room but, more frequently, jokes, giggles and lots of pre-teen quasi Japanese gibberish were the sounds that overrode the movie soundtrack.

When the movie was finished, I was assured by each sincere-faced little cherub that they had really enjoyed the movie and the consensus was that it had been 'REALLY Coool!' and 'REALLY great'!

I muttered, "bullshit," under my breath and sent them all out onto the vast grassy area out back with a soccer ball while John, Walter and I grilled hamburgers and set up for lunch.

Doctor Swaim had been invited to participate as well but he excused himself under the premise that he was at a critical point in the latest chapter of the new book he was writing.

Sean didn't seem terribly upset that he wasn't making an appearance at this, the boy's first social event, and I suspected this was because he wasn't quite ready to share his own private wizard with his friends. Never show your full hand until you've been called… the kid will make a good poker player someday.

Given the choice of viewing the next movie or swimming, the vote for swimming was unanimous.

In a way this surprised me considering these boys were a swim team and I would have almost expected them to choose anything over more time in a pool. Upon further consideration I realized that this was probably why these seven were such extraordinary swimmers-their mutual love of swimming and being in the water in general.

Although recent scientific research had proven it to be unnecessary and, in fact, an old wives tale, I still insisted upon the old 'wait 30 minutes after eating before going in the water'. This afforded Sean the opportunity to conduct a tour of the mansion for his guests. We had previously discussed this possibility and I had let him know that no part of the residence was off limits with the exception of my bedroom.

He understood, without my having to tell him, that the bedtime portion of our relationship was a private issue between us.

'His' room which he used essentially only as a place to do homework and play the occasional video game, was to be shown as his bed room and, without lying, he would let his guests assume what would be normal to assume.

I'd had the solarium furniture cleared or rearranged and seven air mattresses and sleeping bags were laid out there for the actual sleepover. I'd also had a large screen TV and video game system moved in because I suspected very little sleep was going to take place that night.

When the tour was complete, a smiling Sean returned to the patio with his entourage. I received several little-boy compliments on my home and the consensus seemed to be that Joyous Gaurde was 'way cool'.

"Can we go swimming now, Eric?" asked Sean with a group behind him staring at me in anticipation.

"Absolutely. You guys go get into your suits and I'll meet you down at the pool in a few minutes. There was a round of youthful exclamations just a decibel or so lower than a cheer and they were off in a flash. I headed upstairs to get into a pair of trunks. I despise the currently fashionable knee length 'shorts' that are being called swimwear these days and I refuse to wear them.

As I was changing I looked wistfully at the bed realizing that this would be the first night in a very long time that I would be sleeping alone. I wondered if this was, in some way, indicative of the direction my relationship with Sean was taking and if so… I wondered how I felt about that.

I decided not to involve myself in such potentially morose speculation right now. This was Sean's weekend to enjoy. I would be happy just knowing he was getting such pleasure from it.

They were all waiting at poolside for me doing their best not to be too overt in their display of youthful impatience.

The variety of swimwear was interesting. I realized that this was the first time I was seeing Sean in one of his Strothers swim trunks that we'd purchased on his first full day here. Like everything else he wore, he looked great in them. They showed off his wonderful legs brilliantly and the light blue material formed around his marvelous ass perfectly almost like a second skin.

Two of the other boys wore trunks similar to his while two others had simply brought their team speedos. The remaining two sadly wore brightly patterned loose fitting knee length board shorts.

I gave the group an intense visual inspection as they stood at the deep end of the pool by the diving board. They were as beautiful as they were diverse and my eyes just drank them in. "It's OK guys, I'm here you can go in now!" I shouted with a smile.

Rather than jump in as I expected, they all crowded around Sean speaking very softly. I couldn't hear much of what they were saying to each other but I did pick up on, "Go ahead! Ask him! See if he'll let us!"

Sean parted from the group and walked down the length of the pool to where I was standing. He was obviously nervous and uncertain about approaching me with what was apparently a very important question. I decided to try and make it easier for him. "What's up Sean? Is there a problem I can help with?"

"Uhhm, well, ahhh Eric… see, I kinda told the guys that we swim, ahhh, naked a lot and I was errr WE was uhmm we WERE wondering if it would be OK if we did that today."

Sean never 'played' me like some kids have learned to try to manipulate adults and so this question was sincere and difficult. He knew this request was stretching the informal rules that existed between us and he was honestly not certain what my reaction or answer was going to be.

I don't know what I'd thought he was going to ask, but this certainly wasn't it. I know I must have looked a bit silly with surprise. I looked down at him and he'd fixed me in the gaze of his beautiful eyes, patiently but anxiously waiting for my answer.

Encouraged by the fact that I hadn't responded negatively as soon as the question was posed, the other six boys had gathered around waiting for an answer. Emboldened by my silence a few spoke up, "Pleeeese Mr. Turner? Can we Mr. T? It'll be soooo fun! Yeah, Mr. T can we pleeeeze?"

I ran the idea around in my head and the only problem I saw was the very real possibility of some pissed-off parents and I told them so.

It was Buddy, the speedo clad 12-year-old breast stroke champion who spoke up, "It'll be OK Mr. T. We won't tell nobody that you let us and, besides, most of our parents won't care as long as we're not doing it with girls around."

This elicited a chorus of agreement and not a few chuckles as well.

I made my decision. "Well, if that's what you guys want to do and if you promise not to get me in trouble, then I don't see why not. I certainly think it's the best way to swim and I… … …"

I don't think they were listening past 'why not'. The pool area echoed with a loud chorus of, "YES!" And, almost instantly, swimwear was being peeled off and six naked boys were lined up at the diving board.

Sean grabbed my hand and squeezing it tightly said softly, "Thanks Eric. You're the best fun."

It was only as I glanced down at him that I realized that he had somehow become as naked as his pint-sized compadres.

They were at the end of the pool laughing and wise cracking totally unashamed or self-conscious at being naked in front of each other or me, a relatively strange man. I pulled a lounge chair closer to the edge of the pool and sat down to enjoy the view taking detailed mental snap shots as I looked at each boy.

Buddy the 12 year old had wavy brown hair, dark eyes and a serious face. He stood about 5 feet [1.50 m] tall which made him the tallest of the group. His shoulders and chest gave a clear indication that the breast stroke was his preferred event. His flaccid cock hung down at about three and a half inches [9 cm] and his ass could have been a dictionary illustration for the term bubble butt.

Rico was 11 years old and about the same height as Sean. He was stockier than Sean and, like my boy, seemed incapable of standing still. His hair, worn close cut, was as black as Sean's but his eyes were a dark brown. His full lips framed flashing white teeth.

His parents had been refugees from El Salvador during the dark days of the Sandinistas and they had made quite a success for themselves here in the USA.

His pubic area had a sparse smattering of little hairs that were only visible because they were so dark. I guessed his dick to be about 3-inches [7 cm] and his ass looked tight and muscular. Unlike the other six boys, his copper colored skin gave no hint of tan lines even at his ass. (I wondered a bit at this).

Matty was 12 years old and the second tallest of the group. He stood about half-an-inch shorter than Buddy but, because he was so thin and lanky, he gave the impression of being taller. His hair worn shaggy and medium length was the color of wheat growing in a Midwestern field and his bangs came down and almost covered his pale blue eyes.

He was the 'super dick' of the group, sporting a tool that hung down a good four inches [10 cm] over an almost man sized ball sack. The base of his cock already had a respectable growth of light toned hair. He had oversized hands and feet indicating that he was about to have a significant growth spurt.

Mike was also 12 years old but was not yet as developed as Buddy or Matty. He was only a tad taller than Sean (perhaps 4-feet 7-inches [1.40 m]) and looked to be almost delicately slender. Had he been a girl, he would have been described as 'willowy'. This slenderness displayed the nicely formed muscles in his arms and legs delightfully.

Like all of the boys, except Rico, he wore his muddy blonde hair stylishly long. His eyes were grey and complimented by long dark lashes that contrasted with his much lighter hair giving him an almost exotic look. His body was as smooth and hairless as Sean's. His cock looked to be about the same length though a bit thinner than Sean's.

Bulldog was 12 and it required no imagination to figure out how he got his nickname. To look at him you would have pegged him for a wrestler or even a football player but you'd never have guessed he was such a powerhouse at the back-stroke. He stood about 4 feet 10 inches [1.47 m] tall and was very well muscled for a boy his age. His shoulders were so well muscled that from the back he almost seemed to have no neck. His chest was also well developed and the muscles on his arms and legs would not have looked out of place on an athletic 14-year-old. He was another boy waiting for a growth spurt to bring his body closer to perfect proportion but having said that, he was certainly pleasant to look at as he was.

His hair was an almost white surfer blond and the strands seemed super fine. His hazel eyes twinkled constantly brightening an otherwise serious but extremely handsome face. His ass was round and solid. He had a dark well filled bush of pubic hair at the base of his short fat cock and his body was otherwise hairless.

Charlie was one of the three 11-year-olds and the smallest of the bunch at about 4-foot 3-inches [1.30 m] tall with a slight build and a cherubic face he looked more like a young 10-year-old than his actual age. With shaggy dusty brown hair and ocean blue eyes, this little guy always had a mischievous grin on his face.

His body, slender but not in the least bit skinny seemed taut and wired at all times like a compressed spring waiting to be released. His body was totally hairless, his cock was like a child's and his ass was only slightly rounded.

He looked like someone's delightful imagining of a forest elf… all he needed was a set of gossamer wings and pointy tips on his ears to complete the picture. Despite his size and very youthful appearance, Charlie was thus far unbeatable at the 50 meter butterfly.

While Sean outshone the rest in my eyes, I still noted contently that this was as fine looking a group of boys as I had ever seen and they were a pure delight to gaze upon. All of these pictures and observations were registered in my mind as one by one these sleek nude cherubs took their turn on the diving board and sliced neatly as knife blades into the water.

I realized that my own cock had become as rigid and hard as a steel pole and I became glad of the built in supporter in my swim trunks.

After they had each done several laps of the pool they abandoned their usual regimented, disciplined protocols and resorted to normal little-boy horse-play. The laughs, shrieks and squeals of delight rang against the tile walls of the pool room and the tangles of water slick youthful skin produced an alluring spectacle. I realized, with a degree of selfish pleasure, that I was the sole beneficiary.

I don't know how long I sat there just enjoying show before I became aware that youthful calls were being directed at me.

"Mr. T, Mr. T., come in and toss us! Sean says you're great at it!" It was Rico being the instigator this time, but almost at once he was joined by the chorus, "Yeah Mr. Tucker! Come on Mr. Tucker!"

I smiled, giving a small waive of acknowledgment and jumped into the water amid a round of cheers. I had briefly considered shucking off my own trunks but quickly decided that a show of adult discretion was required and I left them on with no little regret.

One by one I launched each boy out of the water and up into the air tossing them as far as I could. At least four of these kids were noticeably heavier than Sean but not too heavy for me to throw them far enough to provoke whoops of happy pleasure. In the process I had my own enjoyment as I handled seven naked little butts and the occasional 'accidental' brush with various little penises.

This lasted about 25 minutes and I was pretty much exhausted when I set them all to doing six laps each and then off to the showers. As they climbed out of the pool almost in unison I caught bits of conversation aimed at Sean more or less informing him that he was the 'luckiest guy in the world'.

As I watched seven adorable little asses wiggle their way into the locker room I speculated privately that I might actually be the luckiest person in the world right now.

Walter and the staff had removed four leaves from the big table in the formal dining room as we had decided to really put on a show for Sean's guests. The table, in its currently modified state, was still quite big and easily accommodated the six boys with Sean and me sitting at the opposing ends of the table.

Martha had asked Sean what he would like served at this, his first diner party, and without hesitation he had replied Spaghetti Carbonara with tiramisu for desert. This selection didn't surprise me at all and we adults further conspired to impress Sean's friends by having dinner served by two members of the staff in formal attire.

By the time the meal was finished the admiring looks and comments directed at Sean made me very pleased for him. Not surprisingly, Sean himself did not gloat or put on any airs but seemed to simply enjoy the fact that his friends were having a good time at his party. Pretension was foreign to Sean's personality.

After dinner the gang returned to the media room for the screening of 'The Magnificent Seven'. This film was more to their liking and it became obvious from the spontaneous noises and reactions that they were all enjoying the classic western.

When the movie was concluded I guided the entire group into the solarium to get them settled in for the night. I'd had a snack station set up in one corner with tons of chips, pretzels and other goodies and an electric ice chest was filled with soda and fruit juice.

Assuming my role as the 'grown-up in charge', I instructed them to choose their sleeping bags and get ready for bed. With a minimum of tussle or hassle, individual space was claimed and to my absolute surprise, there wasn't a pair of pajamas to be seen. All of these boys it seemed slept in their underpants or had at least chosen to do so tonight.

While I surreptitiously scanned the little beauties I chuckled to myself thinking that of all of them, Sean would be the only one overdressed for bed this evening. This little joke stopped being so amusing when I remembered that I would be sleeping alone.

I announced that I would be imposing a lights out curfew at 11:00 and got only minor static. I gathered this was significantly past most of their normal bed-times so this seemed quite generous to them.

As I headed for the door, the nearly naked boys crowded around the game control consoles hunkering down to enjoy their extended evening.

Just as I stepped out into the hall, I felt a pair of small arms wrap around me. I turned in the embrace and looked down into smiling blue/green eyes. He pulled himself tightly against me and rubbed his cheek against my chest. "Thanks Eric. Thanks for everything. This is the first party I ever had and it's so fun. I… well I… YOU'RE my best friend I've ever had Eric. Nite, see you in the mornin'," he reached up and pulled me down and kissed me, smiled and then turned and scampered back into the room to join his friends.

I felt a lump in my throat and my eyes were misting as I wandered down the hall into the library. I was thinking to myself He ALMOST said 'I love you' this time… at least that's what it sounded like.

Walking to the wet bar in the corner I threw 2 ice cubes into a tumbler and filled it with whiskey. First one today, I thought rather proudly as I settled into an overstuffed arm chair and opened my new Nate Mentor novel.

Two drinks and a hundred pages later I realized it was time to head down and declare lights out. I wasn't entirely surprised to discover that two of my 'Samurai' were already tucked into their sleeping bags and at least two of the remaining five seemed to be struggling to keep their eyes open. I was greeted with smiles and yawns as I shepherded them into their bags.

I moved to the control panel on the wall and lowered the room lighting down to a faint orange glow not unlike that issued from the embers of a dying campfire. "Does everybody know where the bathrooms are if you need them?" I received a chorus of affirmative responses.

"OK guys, it won't get any darker in here than it is now so you shouldn't get disoriented at night. All of you sleep well OK?"

Again, they responded with "OKs" and "goodnights", and I walked back down to the library figuring to give them a half hour to settle in before I checked on them one last time before heading up to my room. I finished one final drink and about fifteen pages in my novel before heading back down the hall.

As I approached the door of the solarium the low orange glow spilled out onto the hall carpet. As I got closer I was certain that I could hear young voices speaking very softly.I couldn't make out what was being said until I had just about stepped into the room.

"Oh shit, Matty… that must have shot 2 feet in the air!" there was a chorus of muffled giggles.

"Man, I wish I was able to shoot already but it still feels good just doing it!" Sounds of agreement filled the room.

"We should have a race and you guys that can't cum yet… shit we'll trust you OK?"

There was rustling as I mentally pictured all seven boys getting stretched out comfortably and then a voice, "Ready? GO!" This was followed at once by the unmistakable sound of flesh rapidly slapping flesh.

A genuine circle jerk. I grinned to myself. I'd love to stick around and see who wins but it's really none of my business. The sound of fleshy pounding was soon joined by various little-boy moans and sighs as I stepped out of the room and headed down the hall to the elevator.

In the morning, I ran the seven boys through the showers in the locker room which was the only bathroom that could accommodate them all at the same time. I had considered trying to fit them in my shower but rejected the idea as being more trouble than it could possibly be worth.

In the dining room, Martha was in her glory serving out mountains of pancakes and glasses of milk and juice. It was a spectacular race between Martha's cooking skills against seven voracious little-boy appetites. In the end, it was Martha who won when Bulldog was the last of the boys to declare he couldn't eat another bite.

Without embarrassment, Sean had greeted her first thing this morning with his typical hugs and kisses. When breakfast was finished however, six additional little boys stood in line to take a turn at hugging her and thanking her for breakfast and dinner last night.

She was beaming and her face was flushed as red as an apple.

The boys gathered their things together and one-by-one thanked me for the party. I assured them that I'd enjoyed having them and that we would most certainly be doing it again.

The final touch came when we loaded the boys into the limo and with Sean sitting up front with him, John dropped each of the boys home. I knew Sean would be hearing about this for a long time.

Later that afternoon, I was at my desk in the study going over a report I wanted to discuss with Uncle Phil Monday morning. I hadn't seen Sean for about an hour and I assumed that he was up in his room working on some project for the professor. I was applying my yellow hi-liter quite liberally to the text of the report when I sensed more than saw someone standing in the doorway.

I looked up and it was Sean. It took me a few seconds to realize that he was trembling and his face was white as a ghost. In his hands he held some pieces of a brassy material that I vaguely felt I should recognize and there were tears in his eyes.

I looked at him and arched an eyebrow in query. "Sean?"

"I… I… I didn't mean to do it. I'm sooooo s-s-sorry Eric. Pppleese don't send me back to the nest early. Pleeeese let me stay for the whole contract. I'll do anything Eric!"

"Sean, what's the matter? What are you talking about?" I'd risen quickly from my chair and was hurrying across the room toward him.

He held his hands filled with the strangely familiar metallic stuff to me, "It was an accident. I didn't mean to do it b… but… broke Kyle's State Championship Trophy!"

Chapter 18

Sean will propose his own restitution

We are called upon to make decisions every day. While most are minor choices having very little impact upon the course of the mightily flowing river that is life, occasionally we must select an action or direction that will influence our path and perhaps another's for a considerable period of time.

When confronted by the need to make such a judgment it is important that enough time has been taken to carefully weigh all possible alternatives. Once a clear choice has been selected with reasonable certitude, it is imperative that we act upon it definitively and without further influence.To do less is to be untrue to the nature of the process and ultimately to ourselves.

I was standing there immobile staring at the almost hysterical little boy in front of me. I was completely dismayed and unable to process what he was trying to tell me. With tears streaming, he was offering me some silly bits and pieces of brass and begging me not to send him away while professing his regret and sorrow.

What in the hell was happening? We'd just concluded a delightful weekend in which he'd shared his current bounty and pleasure with his friends and now… NOW he was weeping miserably as if his life were about to end.

In the midst of struggling to understand, it also registered with me that he was bleeding from the forehead and he had a nasty scrape on his left knee and shin. These I could at least react to immediately.

I scooped him up into my arms and carried him quickly to the kitchen where I retrieved the First Aid kit and ran a couple of towels under the cold water. I wiped his face with the cold wet towel while making idiotic 'shushing' noises. He slowly stopped audibly howling but his little shoulders still heaved with silent sobs and the tears continued to stream from his beautiful eyes.

The direct contact of the wet towel I'd been holding against the cut caused the bleeding to stop and I had time to examine it and assess the extent of the damage. It was superficial… more of a scrape than a cut. Facial wounds tend to bleed so profusely that, initially, they almost always look worse than they actually are.

I reached into the kit withdrawing the tube of Neosporin and applied it liberally to the injury. While I wasn't certain it was entirely necessary, I fixed a Band-Aid over it just in case it started bleeding again. Besides, I thought; All little boys are proud of their bandages when wounded.

His shoulders had ceased their intense heaving and the tears had decreased to a mere trickle but the totality of his grief and anxiety had resulted in a severe case of the hiccups.

I filled a glass with water and told him to drink it while I cleaned up his leg.

He looked up at me plaintively, his eyes big and moist and his body jumped and spasmed almost violently with each 'hic' attack. I knew he was forlorn and emotionally devastated but he looked so cute I had to fight vigorously to keep from laughing.

I kissed his bandage, kissed his nose and ruffled my fingers through his hair. "Now Sean, take a deep breath and SLOWLY tell me what happened."

From his perch on the marble kitchen counter, he looked at me pitifully and loudly snorted snot back up into his nose, swiped the back of a hand across his moist philtrum and spoke, "I-I was trying to read the writing on the trophy b-but it was too h-high up for me to s-see. S-so I got one of the stools from the k-kitchen counter and I c-climber up on t-top of it s-so I could read the trophy a-a-an then the stool tipped over an I fell down an I K-KNOCKED K-KYLES TROPHY ONTA THE FLOOR AN IT BROKE INTA A M-MILLION PIECES!"

This was as far as he could get before he was once again wracked with sobs and flooded with tears. The only perceptible benefit to this being that the hiccups seemed to have stopped.

I ran a clean white towel under the cold water, wrung it out and wiped his face. I handed him the towel rubbed his back and patted his uninjured knee.

Between sobs he tried to continue to talk, "E-e-Eric… I'm Soooooo S-sorry! I'm soooo sorry! I didn't mean to do nothing bad. I j-just wanted t-to see if my n-name was r-really on it that's all." And he wailed loudly expressing all of his misery. "Puleeeze don't send me back yet Eric! Pleeeese let me stay! I didn't mean it an I'm soooo sorry!"

There was nothing to do but to let him calm down so I hugged him tightly to me and patted him making those silly soothing noises that seem to work as ridiculous as they actually sound. When he had quieted a bit I spoke, "Sean, if you wanted to read the trophy, why didn't you just ask me to take it down for you?"

"I shoodah! I shoodah! B-b-but I just wanted to see if my n-name was really on it t-that's all! I didn't think I'd fall an knock it over!"

I was a bit confused so I asked, "What do you mean you wanted to see if your name was really on the trophy?"

He looked up at me, his big blue/green eyes swimming in tears his face was serious and intense. "I-I've been doing so good at the s-swim meets that Coach Riorden's been saying the Championship Trophy's got my n-name all over it. An… an last n-night all the guys said the s-same t-thing… t-that the Championship Trophy's got my name on it. I didn't know how that could be s-so I just wanted t-to see."

I looked up at the ceiling and smiled. I understood now. He wasn't doing anything sneaky he was curious because he didn't understand a common figure of speech. Having been raised in the isolation of the nest I suspected he'd never heard that turn of phrase in his life.

"Sean that was just an expression. It means they think you're so good that you're sure to win the championship and the trophy. It was a compliment. If you win it, though, it will be a different trophy… your very own just like Kyle's but not the same one. Your trophy would be just your trophy and Kyle's trophy is just Kyle's."

He started to cry again. "I-I know and I broke it! I shouldn't a touched it! I-I know you hate me Eric and I know you're gonna send me back… I just know it… but b-b-but pleeeeze don't. Pleeeze let me stay here my whole time! I'll do anything!"

I picked him up from the counter top and held him to me. He threw his arms around my neck and buried his face into my chest. "What's most important to me, Sean, is that you're all right. From the sound of things, you could have been hurt a lot worse than you were."

He made a muffled snuffling noise and I quietly wondered if I now had snot on my shirt. Oh well.I walked us back down to my study and I set him back down on the floor.

I grabbed an empty cardboard box from the closet next to the credenza and put in the pieces of broken trophy he'd brought with him. I smiled down at him hoping my face looked as warm and reassuring as I wanted it to. I extended my hand to him. "Come on; let's go straighten up down there".

He took my hand and we walked down the long hall to 'Father's Alter', the alcove where the trophies were displayed. The stool he had climbed up on was lying on its side. Next to it was the brassy main portion of the trophy a few additional handles and 'geegaws' were scattered on the floor. Up on the wall, the shelf the trophy had stood on hung loosely askew-held to the wall by one stubborn mounting screw.

"My God, Sean, you could have been hurt so badly!" I said to him as I placed the remaining bits of the fallen trophy into the cardboard box. I picked up the fallen stool and I carried it to the kitchen. Sean followed carrying the box. He sniffled loudly as we walked.

"Sit down, little man. You need a nice cup of hot chocolate." I was already heating the milk and laying out the cups when he climbed up on the stool and looked at me intently.

"Are you going to send me back Eric?"

"Of course I'm not going to send you back Sean. Why would you think that?"

"Cause I did something very bad and I ruined your best thing that was Kyle's and now you hate me and don't want me around no more." His face was mournfully serious as he said this.

I placed a dollop of Cool Whip onto the hot chocolate in each cup and gave one to him. I sat down on the stool next to his and peered at him across the top of my cup as I took a slow sip.

"First off, that trophy isn't ruined. I'm going to send it out to be repaired and in a couple of weeks it will be back here good as new."

"Second, if that trophy had been smashed into a zillion smithereens, it's NOT the best thing I have of Kyle… my memories… my HAPPY memories are the best thing I have of Kyle and nothing can ruin them for me."

I was looking hard at him and he was watching me just as intently. His little face had registered a slight bit of relief when I'd told him I was not going to send him away, but it was still fraught with concern.

"Third," I took another sip of my chocolate… he hadn't touched his yet. "I don't hate you and I DO want you around OK?"

He was chewing on his lower lip and I could tell that wonderful little mind was working and he was trying to frame his thoughts into words.

"You say you're not angry with me but that's cause you're nice an' you're trying to be nice right now but how do I know that you really aren't mad and hate me for being so bad? How will it ever be the same Eric?"

What an astonishingly adult concept! I thought to myself

I could tell by looking at him he was about to burst into tears again. I reached out and cupped his chin in my hand raising his face up to look into mine. "What can we do to make you believe me Sean? I'm not going to send you away; I'm not going to yell at you. What can we do so that it will be alright again?"

He took my hand away from his chin and held it in both of his. He never broke his gaze from mine. "You gotta punish me Eric," he was dead serious. I could tell from his look and from his voice.

"How shall I do that Sean? Should I confine you to your room… cut out deserts and snacks for a week… for a month?"

He shook his head vehemently. "No Eric! Don't make fun… you gotta really punish me. You… you gotta spank me."

I almost spit out a mouthful of hot chocolate I was so taken aback.

I had never been spanked in my life and neither had Kyle. Corporal punishment was something that was never done in our family it was a completely foreign concept to me.

"Ok. Go bend over that table and I'll spank you," I said half joking.

"No!" he was, as they say, as serious as a heart attack. "Don't fool about it Eric! It's got to be a real spanking and it's got to be hard and it's gotta hurt… like with a belt or a paddle."

"Well Sean, I'm certainly not going to whip you with a belt and I haven't got a paddle so…"

"I could make a paddle… in the workshop. Walter could show me. You gotta do it Eric… you just gotta!"

"Sean… I… Sean, remember in the jet that first day? I promised you that I would never do anything to hurt you. So I can't… ."

"That was before I did something BAD… before I did something that hurt YOU… you gotta do it Eric or it can never get better PLEASE!"

I drained my cup and carried it over to the sink to rinse it out while I thought over what he was telling me. I needed advice and I knew where to go to get it.

I walked over and took his cup from him and bent down and kissed the top of his sweet head, I casually almost carelessly brushed the fingers of my right hand down his cheek. "I tell you what, little man. Let me think about it tonight and we'll make a decision in the morning. For now, why don't you go get a nice hot shower and hop into bed with your book? I'm going to be a little late coming up tonight; I've got to talk to someone… so if you get sleepy, just turn the lights down OK?"

"You're being true Eric… right?" He asked with a serious face. I nodded affirmatively.

He hopped down from his stool and was headed out of the kitchen. "Hey!" I called softly. "You can still give me a goodnight kiss can't you?"

He spun around and rushed over to me. I bent down and we kissed lightly and tenderly. He turned and left, but not before I saw that he had tears in his eyes again.

I walked over to the telephone mounted on the kitchen wall and punched in the proper internal extension. "Hello Doc? Break out a bottle of that scotch I sent over there. I'm on my way… we've got to talk." I rushed out the back door and jumped into one of the waiting golf carts.

The Professor was pouring me a second drink by the time I had finished relaying the strange set of circumstances that had occurred this evening and told him of Sean's bizarre request. He handed me my glass and I watched as his large bulk sank into and was almost enveloped by one of the overstuffed chairs in the cabin.

"Doc it's the strangest thing to me. What put such an idea in his head… spanking? What does he know about spanking how would he have even heard about it? They don't practice corporal punishment at the Academy."

"Tcch," he clucked at me "Eric, he has probably heard about and read about spanking his entire life.

"Children's literature is full of it… 'The Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe'… Beatrix Potter's 'Benjamin Bunny'… the Elephant's Child in Kipling's "Just So Stories"… He loves Mark Twain, how about 'Tom Sawyer' and 'The Prince and the Pauper'.. Then there's Charles Dickens 'David Copperfield' and 'Oliver Twist' just to name a very few off the top of my head." He was waving his glass of Jack Daniels at me as he spoke.

"And that doesn't take into account television and movies he's seen and bed time stories he's been told. Believe me Eric that just because Sean, like you, has never been subjected to a spanking he certainly knows what one is and what it is for. He's very aware that it is for punishment and that it's supposed to hurt. Don't kid yourself about that."

"Now then what are your feelings about this proposal of his??"

"Well Doc, as you well know it's foreign to me almost repugnant. I can't see any justification in hurting a little boy even though the Bible tells us, 'Spare the Rod and Spoil the Child"…"

"Nonsense and Drivel!" he interjected fiercely as he extricated himself from the embrace of his chair and leaned forward towards me waving a finger almost in my face. "The Bible says no such thing! I don't know how that misconception ever got started. That horrible adage is found nowhere in any of the 31,103 verses in a Standard English language Bible!"

"There are four places where the Bible does mention using a 'rod ' in conjunction with disciplining a child… these are all found in Proverbs and they NEVER allude to beating or smiting the poor little things. Eric remember that loveliest of Psalms, 'Thy ROD and thy staff they comfort me.' COMFORT… not beat not punish!"

"It's a problem of sloppy translation I'm afraid. Remember how many languages the Bible was translated from before we ever got our first version in English. Our current English language Bible comes primarily from translations from the Greek which are, in fact, really translations from ancient Hebrew.Many of those translations were done poorly and words were incorrectly inserted which has led to a myriad of misconceptions regarding what the Bible ACTUALLY has to tell us."

"For instance, to this day, in this country and a lot of the rest of the English speaking world, millions of people believe that the Bible tells us that Moses parted the "Red Sea" when he and all those Hebrews were fleeing from Pharos's army. The fact is he didn't and the Bible never intended for us to think he did."

"What the Bible actually says is that Moses led the people through an opening in the 'Sea of Reeds' or 'Reed Sea' which probably means he found a more or less solid path through a marsh or swamp."

"When translating the Bible either from Hebrew to Greek or from Greek to English, the words 'Yam Suph' meaning 'Sea of Reeds' or 'Reed Sea' were miswritten as 'Red Sea' and the mistake has been printed in the pages of Exodus and taught to the faithful ever since."

"Moses never parted the Red Sea but don't try to tell that to millions of people who read the Bible in English. Imagine that… one of America's favorite Bible stories and Cecil B. DeMille's greatest movie scenes is based upon a lousy spelling error! Our English language Bible is packed with such mistakes, I could go on for a week but most importantly to you right now is this…"

"While the Bible never says anywhere 'Spare the rod and spoil the child' it does say in, Proverbs four different times, that children should be led and disciplined with the 'rod' but here again someone took the Hebrew word 'shebet' and mistranslated it."

"'Shebet' means guidance and leadership. It is also the name of the 'rod' or 'staff' carried by a leader so that he can be recognized in a group. Essentially it's a walking stick or ceremonial pole… interestingly, it is also the name given to a shepherd's rod or staff that he uses to keep his flock in place. Some bad or lazy translator carried only the 'stick' meaning of 'shebet' and none of its greater and more significant implications. The Bible in no place suggests beating or striking a child as a means of discipline AND the shepherd NEVER uses his rod to strike his sheep… only to guide them. The Bible tells us to discipline our children with guidance and leadership not beatings."

"That false Biblical 'spare the rod' quote has been responsible for hundreds of thousands of poor children being savagely beaten in the name of God… some even beaten to death. And it's not even in the Bible to begin with! So, Eric let's leave God out of this decision, God is not a child beater nor does he encourage the practice."

"Let us however, examine what is really happening here."

He paused and handed his empty glass to me indicating the ice bucket and bottles he'd placed on the table… obviously it was my turn to make the drinks.

"As we have already discussed, the boy loves you. I think, by the way, that he is coming closer to understanding that for himself and, in fact, he may be close to articulating it if he ever feels brave enough or comfortable enough to do so."

I thought about what I was certain Sean had almost said to me outside of the solarium last night and I nodded my head.

"Sean is also very aware of your deep love for your lost brother. Kyle has become an almost mystical figure for him… an ideal he strives to emulate despite your agreement in that regard months ago. Sean loves you in ways and degrees that are almost beyond definition… you are to him Father, Brother Friend and… I suspect at least to some extent… Lover." Here he raised a bushy eyebrow as he stared at me.

"He hopes to live up to what he thinks were your expectations for Kyle. He doesn't want to be Kyle but he wants to at least share the great love he knows you have for Kyle."

"Sean is also very unsure what your feelings are for him. Although you've told him that you love him, that word… that phrase… is a concept that is still formulating in his mind. While he recognizes and relishes your affection, he still won't allow himself to feel like more than a temporary thing in your life."

"In his mind, whether intentionally or no, he has damaged… he believes destroyed… a beloved object, a relic if you will, of Kyle. To him, this transgression is worthy of banishment from this life of temporary but great happiness. He knows his time here with you is finite. We need to discuss that further by the way, but not tonight. The idea of leaving is already sorrowful to him and so the idea of being made to leave prematurely is horror incarnate."

"You have benevolently withdrawn the specter of that feared punishment and have even verbally absolved him from any sin involving the broken trophy But you see, Eric, you don't have the power to do that… not verbally you don't."

"He feels he's committed an offense worthy of severe punishment and until you actually mete out that punishment, he cannot believe your forgiveness is genuine and, therefore, your relationship will be tainted. I know that all sounds quasi-religious Eric but after all it is upon just such basic moral strictures that many so called sacred rituals are based."

I drained whatever was left in my glass in one pull. I stood back up and reached for his glass. He tossed back its contents in a single deep swallow and handed it to me.

I moved to the table to build two new drinks. "So then Professor, what do I do?"

"If you care about your relationship with that little boy… whatever direction you eventually decided to let it evolve, you must do him the courtesy of accepting the validity of his perspective of the situation. You must respect his moral concepts… you must allow him his honor and therefore you must administer his punishment as he perceives it. You'll never convince him he deserves less Eric."

"You are being tested, you see. This is how you will demonstrate that you value him despite his frailties. That you care enough to punish his transgressions is an ultimate indication to him that he is important to you."

He accepted the new drink from me and peered at me over the top of his dark rimmed glasses which had typically slid down the length of his nose.

"So… I spank him?"

He smiled gently and raised his glass to me in salute. Nodding affirmatively he replied, "You spank him."

As I suspected he would, Sean had fallen asleep reading. I gently lifted the book which lay open across his chest, marked his page and laid it on the bedside table. He had obviously showered as I'd suggested. His dark hair was still slightly damp as it spread upon the pillow.

His lovely face: washed clean of the tears of sorrow and remorse and relieved by sleep of the stress of his grief, was heart stopping in its youthful beauty.

I lowered the lights to almost dark and crawled in beside him. I was awake for a long time just thinking about how complicated one little boy had made my life… but then again, I thought; how very wonderful as well.

I woke in the morning to find he was sitting on the bed next to me legs crossed in what we call Indian style. He was staring at me intently.

I was not greeted by his customary smile this morning. Instead, his face was grave reflecting anxiety and concern.

Seeing I was awake he spoke to me softly but earnestly, "Did you think about it like you said Eric?"

I raised myself up on one elbow. "Man! Don't I get good morning kisses anymore?"

His face dropped instantly but quickly broke into an almost shy smile. He leaned over and kissed me. "Sorry Eric… Mornin. Did you decide?"

I sighed deeply and got up from under the covers and sat down on the bed next to him. I suppose that deep down I'd been hoping that after a good night's sleep he would have forgotten all about the spanking but obviously he hadn't nor had it lessened in importance overnight.

I scooted over and leaned back against the headboard and pulled him to me so that he was sitting between my legs leaning back against my chest as I wrapped my arms around him. He smelled and felt so wonderful, I lowered my head and ran my nose through his thick black hair and softly kissed the top of his head.

"I have thought about it and I have decided." I felt him tense in my arms. "I don't agree with it and I don't like it but I understand that it's important to you that you pay a price for last night's… mistake."

He seemed to relax as I spoke these words, "As I told you last night, I will not hit you with a belt and you don't seem to think spanking you with my hand would be punishment enough so… After breakfast, go find Walter and explain what you need to do and ask for his help. Then go and ask Doctor Swaim for the morning off so that Walter can work with you in the shop."

"When you've made your paddle, bring it to me and I will administer your spanking. It will be up to you to decide how many swats you deserve, by the way."

He sighed deeply and relaxed against me. I just closed my eyes and shook my head.

"Now Sean, you have got to promise me that when this is over… it is OVER. You'll never worry about it again, you'll never question how I feel about you again… it's OVER, done… finished. There is no further punishment, no debt to be paid. OK? "

He twisted his head around and looked up at me. "Kay," he said so softly that I almost couldn't hear.

"Promise?"

"Uh huh." He turned around in my embrace and threw his arms around my neck and hugged me tightly and silently.

As we were finishing breakfast, Walter walked into the kitchen to speak with Martha about some household matter. Sean jumped up from the table. "Scuze me please." he muttered as he ran up to Walter and pulled him aside by the pantry door.

I watched him speak gravely and intently to the older man his hands moving, almost painting a picture as he spoke. I could not hear the conversation but it became obvious when the question had been asked because Walter turned and looked at me. His face required no spoken inquiry his expression was enough.

I simply nodded in the affirmative to him and he turned back and looked down at Sean. He said something briefly to the boy and then held out his hand. Sean took it without hesitation.

I watched through the window as they walked together down the gravel path to the large building that housed the wood and metal shop. I filled my cup with coffee and hurried down the hall to my study. I'd completely forgotten I had a meeting with Phil.

It was late in the afternoon when he appeared in the doorway.

"Hi, Sean. I haven't seen you all day. Where have you been?"

"Workin in the shop with Walter. He was REALLY nice. He helped me pick out the right wood an he helped me make the design and he helped me with the jig saw and the sanders and everything and… well…" With a serious and slightly worried expression he handed me his wooden creation.

It was actually quite beautiful in its own way. The wood, which I guessed to be hickory by its straight tight grain and rigidity, had been cut neatly in the shape of a fairly standard paddle with a generous handle and a wide base. It was light enough to swing with force and rigid enough and hard enough to create a substantial impact.

The edges around the blade had been planed and sanded to an almost knife-like taper which allowed it to cut neatly through the air and, I suspected, intensify the result of impact upon flesh. It had been sanded to a beautiful smoothness and sheen that almost begged for a light stain and coat of varnish that it would never receive. Despite its beauty, it had been created for a more dire and utilitarian purpose.

I nodded at my boy determined to take the entire manner as seriously and with as much dignity as he did. "Have you decided how many wacks you are to get?" I flinched inwardly wishing that I had come up with a more serious sounding word than wacks'.

"I think a hundred Eric," he said quite seriously.

"Absolutely not!" I scoffed. "That's far too many for ANY punishment… maybe except for murder. You didn't murder anybody as well as break a trophy yesterday did you?" I was smiling but he was having none of it.

"Eric! Seriously! How 'bout 75?"

"How about 10?"

"That's not enough. How about 50?"

"Twenty five… and that's my last offer AND I still think that's too many."

He gave it a few seconds of serious thought. "Alright. Twenty five… that's good. I guess that'll be enough."

"Oh, I promise you that will be enough Sean. Now, should we do it after dinner?"

He nodded. "In the bedroom?"

He nodded again.

"Pants on or off?"

"It's gotta be on my bare butt Eric. That's how it's supposed to be done."

I was about to say something about that but decided to remain silent. This was after all his idea and his plan. "OK then, leave this paddle with me and I'll see you later on at dinner."

He nodded once again and left the room.

I turned around and built a drink. This would be my first one of the day and I decided the last until the deed was over.

Glass in hand, I took the elevator up stairs and looked around the room trying to work out the logistics of the thing. In the kitchenette, I noticed a straight backed armless chair. It was oak and very sturdy. I carried it over to the large open floor space between the dressing area and the bathroom door.

I would sit here and have him over my knee I decided.

In the cabinet in the bathroom I rummaged through my creams and ointments and selected a tube of cooling pain-relief cream. I placed it and a couple of hand towels on the top of the low chest against the wall near where I'd positioned the chair.

I hefted the paddle a few times until with a good hard swing I slapped it against my thigh. Even through my jeans it provided a considerable sting. Twenty five of these on a bare ass will provide something to remember, I thought and then I snorted at the thought of his original proposal of a hundred. He'll get more than he bargains for out of twenty five I thought.

Satisfied, I placed the paddle on the seat of the chair and headed down to what I knew was going to be a somber dinner.

He'd left the table early to go upstairs and get ready, while I sat sipping my coffee and playing with my second piece of pie. Martha had been shooting me 'looks' all evening and I tried to ignore them but now that we were alone I knew that they couldn't continue to go unacknowledged.

"What?" I finally said. "I swear to you this is his idea not mine!"

"How could you even consider such a thing, Eric Tucker!" she countered fiercely. "You father hardly ever even raised his voice to you let alone his hand and now you… you're going to beat that poor child… that precious little angel!"

"I'm not going to beat him Martha… I'm going to spank him and I didn't want to do it… he insisted that I HAVE to do it. Don't be mad at me… be mad at him for heaven's sake!"

She blew out a breath in total exasperation and returned to her kitchen huffing and tsking and I realized that I had no excuse for lingering at the table any longer. I got up and took the slow sad walk to the elevator.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his hands folded on his lap and his little legs swinging. He'd stripped down to just his black boxer briefs. As I entered the room he looked over at me with large sad eyes.

I didn't say anything. I walked across the room, took his hand and led him to the chair I'd positioned earlier.

I put my hands gently on his shoulders and looked down into his face. His eyes were wet and wide; his lips were drawn and taught.

It was obvious that now that the moment was at hand his resolve was beginning to fail and he was afraid.

I couldn't blame him. He'd never experience real sustained pain in his life and while I knew he still trusted me, he also knew that at his own insistence, I was about to hurt him… probably a great deal. I gently stroked and rubbed his arms and shoulders. I could feel he was trembling slightly and I didn't want to embarrass him. Above all I wanted to help him maintain as much dignity as he could.

"Sean… You know we don't have to do this. I'm impressed enough that you're just willing to do it. It will be fine by me if we call it off."

He shook his head vehemently. He was swallowing hard. He didn't want to cry; at least not until he'd actually been spanked.

"N-no. We have ta do it!" he was looking right at me. "An Eric… I'll know if you're not doin it for real. If you don't do it hard as you can it won't count for nothin' Kay?"

"OK." I nodded and I let him go. I reached down and picked up the paddle and took my seat.

With one last forlorn gaze at me, he reached his thumbs into the elastic waistband of his shorts and pulled them past his thighs. They fell down his legs on their own and he stepped out of them.

He moved to my right side and laid his body across my knees. I guided and helped slip him forward and over so that his little pecker was lying pressed against my right thigh and his sweet round ass was raised pertly in perfect position for striking. I could tell every muscle in his body was tensed up and he was now trembling despite his attempts not to do so.

I stroked his back and his buns with my left hand and whispered to him, "I think it will be better if you can try to relax. I'll count them for you so you'll know how many are left. Are you ready?"

"Y-yeah."

I swung the paddle down upon his ass without giving him further warning. The noise of the impact was astonishing; He let out a loud gasp in pain and surprise.

I watched in morbid fascination as the area of impact on the skin of his white butt instantly turned a bright red. He had jumped and wiggled after the blow and I reached down with my left hand grasping his torso to hold him in place and quickly swung down with the second blow.

This time he articulated his pain with a loud, "Owwwwww!"

"Two," I said and immediately swung down a third time. His body jerked and his legs kicked and his expression of pain was louder and more heartfelt.

By the tenth blow he was howling and crying in pain. His little body had given up trying to outmaneuver the paddle, He lay limp and sobbing across my knees and his legs no longer kicked when he was struck.

My paddle had turned the previously lily white real estate that was his lovely ass a bright red. I was silently cursing myself for having let him negotiate me up to twenty five strokes. I steeled myself with the conviction that, as unpleasant as this was, I'd made a commitment to him and I owed it to him to carry through with it.

By the eighteenth stroke it was obvious that he was lost in the pain and the trauma of it all. He was crying almost silently now and the force of a new blow by the paddle hardly seemed to increase the intensity of his weeping. He'd been surprised by the pain and he was defeated by it but through it all he didn't beg for leniency or request that I stop. He'd taken it all bravely.

At the twentieth stroke I made a conscious effort to drastically reduce the force of the blows barely tapping his buns loud enough to issue a slight slapping noise as I loudly called of the numbers. "21! 22! 23! 24! 25! And… finished!" I said this as loudly as I could because I wanted him to pay attention.

I threw the paddle to the floor and let him lay across my knees sobbing softly while I stroked his back being careful to avoid touching the red flesh that had been abused by the paddle.

Eventually he seemed to have calmed down enough and I helped him to his feet. I hugged him to me tightly and kissed him and murmured reassurances as his breathing became close to normal and his weeping had diminished to infrequent but deep-felt sobs.

I wiped his face with a towel that I'd run under the faucet and then guided him over to the bed laying him carefully on his stomach. I fetched the cream from the top of the cabinet and gently applied it all over his red ass. I could tell from his reaction that it was helping with the pain.

I stroked his back and neck and whispered to him, "It's over, little man. It's all over. You took it so bravely. I'm so proud of you. You should be proud of yourself." I continued murmuring such inanities to him as I rubbed him reassuringly.

After about a half an hour he had calmed down to just occasional soft sobs and the cream seem to have really eased the pain somewhat. "Feeling a little better?" I asked as I continued to stroke his back and neck.

"Uh huh." He half cried into the pillow.

I waited a few more minutes and then, "You know, little man, your ass looks great with some color on it. Maybe we should do this more often."

"Noooooooooooooo!" he wailed and then realized I was joking and despite his pain and trauma he began to giggle.

He rose up on his elbows and looked at me with a half serious half smiling face."That's one thing we're NEVER going to do again… I PROMISE!"

I handed him a glass of water and two children's Tylenol and then walked into the kitchenette to make him a cup of hot chocolate.

When I returned with the steaming cup I saw he had fallen asleep. I lay in bed alongside him trying not to make contact with his painful little ass.

Just before sleep overtook me I thought to myself;

What a remarkable little guy. He did all this to make me proud of him and want to keep him… If I finished that thought, I didn't remember when I woke up in the morning.

Chapter 19

Truly, few things are more bittersweet than those fleet moments that are the pause we always take following the completion of an important task or action. They are as immediate and as necessary as the quick intake of breath after the completion of a sustained note sung to one's limit of exhalation.

In these short spaces we quickly review the course we have completed and either wish we had chosen differently or else look forward to the positive effect our accomplishment will inspire. The former of these is regret and the latter is hope. Choose hope… always choose hope.

I could not remember a time that I had struggled up from the depth of sleep feeling so exhausted physically, mentally and emotionally. I reached over to touch him to reassure him while he slept and was shocked when my hand claimed a purchase on empty bedding instead of soft boy skin.

I sat up abruptly and looked around the room. Across the floor stood the oak chair I had sat on last night. Nearly in front of it bunched upon the carpet were his dark underpants, two wadded up towels and off to the right of the chair laid the discarded wooden paddle. On the bedside table at what I had come to consider 'his' side of the bed were another crumpled towel and the tube of cream.

Sean was nowhere to be seen. I scrambled out of bed and threw on my dark blue terry cloth robe to fight off the chill that I suspected was emanating more from my guilty soul than from the actual temperature of the room.

I crossed the carpet and silently walked to the door of the bathroom. He was standing with his still red ass facing the large mirror while he was twisting his head and neck into painful looking contortions obviously attempting to get a good look at the devastation last night's paddling had wreaked upon his butt.

"Oh, it's a sight all right," I spoke, surprising him and causing him to jump startled from his concentration upon the image in the mirror.

He turned and looked at me awkwardly. Neither of us quite knew how to begin this morning's conversation. I reached into one of the lower cabinet drawers and pulled out a big rectangular hand held mirror and gave it to him so that he could more easily and completely survey the reflection of his recently abused cheeks. I allowed him all the time he required to perform his examination in silence until finally he laid the mirror on the counter top and turned to look at me again.

His face was a perplexing mixture of sorrow, humor, confusion and expectation. He looked up at me with wide moist eyes, chewing on his lower lip. We stood there for a few moments and I realized that I still didn't have words for him. Instinctively, I opened my arms and he ran to me throwing himself against me and wrapping his little arms tightly around my chest,

I enfolded him in my own embrace simultaneously closing my open robe around him. We stood in this tight encirclement for a very long time. As yet no words had been exchanged and somehow, the silence felt correct… like it was the proper way to begin this new day.

Finally I lifted him up off the floor and brought his face even with mine. Pulling him closely I kissed his eyes, his cheeks, his nose and then finally his lips. These I kissed tenderly and he returned the passion of my touch in kind.

Lowering him back down to the floor I brushed one red butt cheek softly. I was surprised that it was not emitting a fierce heat or that he didn't scream at the pain of my hand's contact. I didn't really know what to expect and therefore was surprised that I'd received no real reaction to this touch at all.

"Is it still very painful?" I asked him, softly thinking to myself that ,of course, it must be.

"Not as bad as last night, but it's still pretty sore." He'd reached around and was softly rubbing his other cheek.

"Let's have a quick shower and then I'll rub more cream on you. That should help a lot."

"Kay," he said softly into my chest.

I'd dried him carefully applying as little pressure as possible against his tender little ass and then stretched him on the bed lying on his stomach as I applied a generous layer of the soothing cream to the redness.

"Today's Friday and I'm going to call the professor and tell him that I've declared a school holiday. I want you to rest as much as possible and I want to talk to you later about… Last… about things."

I let him lay there on the bed while I made the call to Doc Swaim who agreed with my decision. He was extraordinarily upset when I told him of the extent and severity of last night's paddling and insisted that we must speak about it when I could make the time. After breaking the connection, I picked up the oak chair and returned it to its place in the corner of the kitchenette and grabbed up the discarded towels and briefs and threw them in the laundry.

I retrieved the wooden paddle and placed it on top of the little cabinet and looked around satisfied that there were no significant traces of last night's 'event' in the bedroom.

"Do you feel like getting dressed and going down for breakfast of shall I have it brought up here for you?"

Rolling over onto his thigh and propping himself up on one elbow he replied almost indignantly, "'Course I can get dressed and go down for breakfast! I'm not sick Eric… I just got a sore butt." He actually was smiling.

I smiled in return and ruffled his hair tenderly. "OK then but if I may suggest loose shorts or sweat pants and maybe no underwear this morning." He chose a powder blue work-out suit with dark blue trim and of course he looked stunning.

Looking up at me with a soft glow on his face and in his eyes, he took my hand in his and we walked downstairs together.

Martha tried not to be obvious with the attention she paid him as we entered the kitchen and as she led us to the table. I was amused to notice an extra pillow had been placed on Sean's chair. Neither she nor Sean said anything about it, but as he sat at his place he looked at her gratefully.

For the full duration of the meal he was waited and doted upon with tenderness and concern while my own service was cool and business like. I was very aware that Martha was looking at me as little as possible and I chose to ignore this slight because, in actuality, I certainly wasn't my own biggest fan this morning either. Among the three of us, Sean seemed to be handling last night's event the best.

When breakfast was finished and Sean and Martha had exchanged more than their usual hugs and kisses, I guided him down the hall to my study. As always on a weekday morning, there was a pot of coffee and a pitcher of orange juice set up on a cart in the corner. I poured myself a cup of strong black Kona and poured a glass of juice for Sean.

I led him over to the casual corner of the room and indicated he should sit in one of the comfortable chairs. I took the chair opposite him and, after a small sip, I placed my cup down onto the low oval table that was between our chairs.

He looked at me expectantly obviously knowing our conversation was going to be important.

"Sean, I want you to listen to me very carefully and to try very hard to understand what I'm going to say to you. Will you do that for me?" He nodded gravely and affirmatively.

"What happened last night… what I did to you was so wrong… in so many ways that I hardly know where to begin. I hated every second of it and I hate myself for having allowed it to happen. Tell me what it was like for you Sean."

"Well…" he placed his juice glass down on the glass table top. "When I was waiting for you to come up I was sittin' wondering how it was goin' to feel and the longer I sat there waiting the more scared I got and then I was afraid I was goin' to cry before you even got started an… Eric, I know you didn't want to do it but I wanted you to do it 'cause if you spanked me… then I would know that you cared about me and that what I did really mattered to you an that it was something important…" He trailed off and I realized he was having a difficult time putting his very complicated thoughts and feelings into words.

It was as I suspected; the spanking was not of itself a means or an end to anything… it actually was representative of his confused correlation between his two worlds: his lifelong world of the nest and his short and, perceived, temporary world of life with me at Joyous Gaurde.

He was not a child of the mainstream world and I kept forgetting it. Much of what we… what I took for granted was new and strange to him. Good and bad, there were things in the 'real' world he'd never been exposed to.

I considered, for the first time, that perhaps something as simple and basic as self-will was a foreign concept to him. The nest was not a harsh or uncaring environment for a child to grow up in. In fact, it was quite the contrary.

From the beginning nest boys were nurtured and encouraged to excel at anything and everything they had interest and talent for. While there was no actual love, there was certainly encouragement, camaraderie and probably friendship. There was reward with only the most minimum of punishment. Children at the nest progressed through encouragement rather than threat or intimidation.

While there were social tiers; primarily the differentiation between the 'little kids', the kids undergoing 'training' and the 'big kids' who actually went out on contracts, there was no unnatural hazing, harassment or torment. In fact, between the social levels of the nest, there was probably less friction than exists between siblings in a normal household.

What stopped this from being an almost ideal environment for growing up was the simple, sinister fact that these bright talented boys were being brought up and trained to be exceptionally gifted whores.

This of course had no negative connotation for the children of the nest. This was their accepted duty upon reaching a certain age. It was a function that they performed for the good of the only home they had ever known. It was a life style they were trained for and expected… a service they performed for a few short years before moving on with their lives.

I was beginning to realize that this attitude was being instilled into the children long before their sexual training began. Sean had no body shame because he had been brought up to have none. In fact, he'd been taught that it was a good thing to display himself and to be pleasing to look at.

He had no sexual hang-ups other than the abstract fear that some sex acts would probably hurt at times. He'd been raised to understand that sexual compliance was something that would be expected of him. He understood this long before he really had any idea what sex acts actually were. It had also obviously been driven deeply into him that his first obligation was to please his client in all things.

I realized with a shudder that to Sean, I was his client.

His young mind and his youthful emotions may have begun to run far afield of that basic concept, but it was there and despite his growing feelings, he simple could not shake the client/nest Boy relationship… at least not by himself.

I suddenly knew for the first time that if I were going to keep him with me… as I was still certainly planning on doing… I would somehow have to help him learn his value as Sean, not as a favorite nest boy.

It occurred to me that I'd been procrastinating… putting off the difficult job of decision making and then working towards putting that decision into action. I also realized I was being incredibly insensitive and unfair to the beautiful little boy sitting across from me. I looked back at him and returned to my original train of thought.

"The spanking Sean, did it hurt?"

He stopped sipping on his juice and looked at me with a quiet intensity and half nodding his head he answered, "Yeah. It was the most hurting I ever felt in my whole life. It was much worse than I thought it was gonna be. I thought I was gonna die an I wanted to ask you to stop… but I couldn't 'cause then that would have been going back on our deal."

"Sean…" I interrupted him though I probably shouldn't have. "We had no 'deal'. It was your deal… your idea of something that you felt was supposed to happen to you."

I waved my hand absently in the air as I carefully chose my next words.

"Do you really think in your whole life that you have ever done anything bad enough to have deserved the pain you suffered last night?" I didn't give him the opportunity to reply.

"Sean that spanking was brutal and horrible and so out of proportion to anything I can possibly imagine you ever doing and it certainly had no relationship to your accidentally knocking a trophy down from its shelf. My God Sean, don't you think the scare you got from falling… the cut on your forehead and the scrape on your leg was a big enough price to pay?"

He just looked at me wide-eyed with his lower lip trembling. I'm going to make him cry again I realized but it simply can't be helped.

"Sean, you're a little boy and little boys make mistakes all of the time. I'm a grown man, for crying out loud, and nobody makes more mistakes than I do… and Kyle… he was always making mistakes." There, I'd said it! I'd begun to invoke Kyle's humanity… begun the slow but necessary work of destroying his image of perfection.

"Making mistakes is how I learn… mistakes were one of the big ways Kyle learned and Sean you are going to learn by making mistakes as well. People don't get punished for making mistakes… mistakes help us grow."

He continued staring at me and though moist, his eyes were without tears so far. I reached across the table and stroked his knee being careful of the now browning bruise.

"Sean, there's not a boy in the world… not even the worse boy there is who deserves what happened to you last night. I'm sick to my stomach over it and though I know you won't believe it, my heart hurts more than your butt does right now."

"Believe me when I tell you that there will never be another spanking in this house and you must never again think that you have done anything that deserves such abuse. Nobody ever deserves something like that."

"Sean, you're the best boy I have ever known. You don't deserve to be hurt… you deserve to be loved… only loved… and Sean, I love you. With all my heart I love you, little man, and I will never again do anything that hurts you… I promise."

The tears were flowing now and he was trying not to sob which caused him to make cute little squeaking noises. "E-Eric… I don't want you ever bein' mad at me. Y-you're the m-most special person I ever had in my whole life an… an I l-l… an I like you s-sooo much Eric!"

Now snot was running from his nose and he wiped it away with the back of his hand while trying to suck it back up making snorting noises as he tried. I reached behind me and grabbed a box of tissues from the credenza and handed them to him.

"E-Eric… will you.." he looked through his tears at me so intently it was if there were fires smoldering behind them… like they were blue/green coals burning slowly into my soul. "Will you love me alla time… even after I go back? Will you still see me sometimes an maybe even bring me back here sometimes?" He was twisting his moist tissue into a rope.

"Tell him!" I screamed silently to myself. "Tell him now!" I felt short of breath my inner struggle was choking me. "I can't!" I screamed back at my internal voice. "I can't… it's too complicated… I haven't decided yet!"

I swallowed hard and stood up and stroked his dark hair. "Of course I'll love you all the time Sean and you'll always be a part of my life."

I knew at once that I'd given him a horribly chicken-shit answer but it calmed him down and I walked him to the wash room and rinsed his face with cold water.

"Let's go back upstairs and I'll put some more cream on you."

"It feels pretty good right now Eric."

"I know… but I'll take any excuse to touch your cute little ass."

He smiled up at me and gave me a shoulder bump. God I love it when he smiles, I thought.

I'd been concerned about his red ass when I dropped him off for practice the next morning. As it turned out, if it had been noticed, it was being kept between himself and his friends. He certainly said nothing about it when I picked him up.

As we sat at the wooden table scarfing down our carne asada burritos I decided to ask him. "Did any of your friends say anything about your glow in the dark butt?"

"Sure, they all did," he said between bites. "They said it looked like I got a good one."

I arched an eyebrow in surprise and he responded, "Jeeze Eric, I'm not the first guy to show up with a red hinny. Buddy and Mike's dads are always givin' them spankins and Bulldog has showed up with a red butt once too."

I nodded none too pleased at this news but realizing that only 'he who is without sin should cast the first stone.'

The weekend newspapers were full of excitement about the Regional Swim Meet on Wednesday. Over the course of the regular season they had all picked up on Coach Riorden's nickname for the boys and had even modified it slightly so that now they were known as the 'Seven Swimming Samurai'.

The expectation was that, for the first time in years, Deer Run Athletic Club might be sending a full team to the State Finals and already there was talk of a State Championship for the team and an individual all-around championship for 'Samurai Sean'.

The entire staff at Joyous Gaurde were excited and Walter, John, Martha and, of course, the Professor had made it plain that they intended to be there. There was enough room in the limo for all of us to take the two hour trip and John volunteered to drive but I insisted that this time he was going to be a passenger. Chauffeur duties were assigned to Terry, a staff member who filled in for John when he was on vacation or otherwise unavailable.

Tuesday evening Sean and I were in the 'chess corner' of the library involved in our latest match. It was our seventh game against each other, two had been called a draw and we each had won two. As I'd suspected from the first, the little bugger was a formidable opponent.

Sean had just moved a knight and was holding a finger on the piece while he considered the value of his move when Walter entered the room. "Sean there is a telephone call for you. I've had it transferred to line three. You can take it on the phone there in the corner."

Sean looked up at me and raised an eyebrow in query.

I nodded and said, "Go ahead and get your call. It's OK to take your finger off the piece… I won't count it."

He smiled at me and got up from his place. We'd become so competitive that we had begun holding each other to strict observance of the rules. Therefore once a piece had been moved and a finger not retained on it, the move was final and could not be changed. I'd just given him permission to let go of his knight and still be allowed to change his mind about the move when he returned to the board.

He returned to the table with a concerned look on his face. "That was Coach Riorden. There's been an accident. Charlie fell off his bike and he's sprained his arm. Coach says I haffta swim the 50 meter fly since I'll have had the most rest between events."

"Poor Charlie!" I exclaimed. "He's come so far only to have this happen. Are you sure you can do his race, Sean?" I knew the 50 meter butterfly was by far Sean's weakest event.

"I can do it," he flashed me a 'Sean smile' and dramatically lifted the finger he'd placed back on his chess piece. "An, that's my move."

I grinned at him. "I suppose you think you're very clever but… guess what? We've got to get an early start tomorrow so it's off to bed with 'Samurai Sean'… this game is on hold."

It was a marvelous trip to the Regionals. We four men drank good cold San Diego brewed beer while Martha and Sean drank root beer and Martha fed us sandwiches.

The meet itself couldn't have more exciting or successful. Sean had already swum four of his five personal events and had taken gold in them all. He sat in the stands with us wrapped in a warming blanket as he watched his teammates compete. He still had the individual medley to swim, plus Charlie's fly and the grand finale… the Team Relay.

The 'samurai' were having a spectacular day thus far. The boys had medaled in every event they were entered in and our group of spectators was going a little crazy. At one point after ogling all the little boys in their skimpy speedos, Martha leaned over to me and whispered, "Our Sean is by far the best looking one of them all."

I smiled and winked at her. "You don't have to try and convince me," I laughed."

They were calling for the swimmers to take their platforms for the 50 meter butterfly. "Good luck Sean." I gripped his shoulder.

Sitting on my other side was a miserable looking Charlie, arm in a sling looking for all the world as if he'd just been sentenced to death or something equally as horrible. "Don't worry Charlie… I'll get 'em for you!" Sean smiled as he slid past us and made his way down to the pool.

This was an important race for Charlie. If Sean could medal in this event, the team could enter a swimmer in the State finals which would be Charlie assuming he'd healed in time. If Sean didn't place, then Charlie's season was over so far as his best event was concerned.

The swimmers took their positions and the horn sounded. They all hit the water almost simultaneously. The butterfly is a terribly strenuous stroke it is very fast and the swimmers churn the water so as to make visibility almost impossible.

All of the swimmers were very good and the 50 meter is short and fast. Almost at once however three swimmers were vying for the lead against the rest of the pack.

One of these, in lane three, was Sean. With about 25 meters left to go it was definitely a three boy race.

We were all on our feet screaming ourselves horse. Little Charlie was jumping up and down and I was afraid he'd fall over and further hurt himself.

In a flash it was over. Gold to the boy in lane six, silver to lane one and bronze to Sean in lane three. That was all he needed.

A half an hour later Sean claimed gold in the individual medley in spectacular fashion finishing ahead of the second place swimmer by more than a meter. At the end, the Deer Run boys took the relay handily making this the most lopsided Regional in over five years.

When it had become apparent that the team was going to be overwhelmingly victorious, I'd asked Walter to call and reserve a private room at Pine Valley Pete's, a well-known steak-Fhouse close by and I hosted the team, coaches and families to a celebratory dinner.

There is nothing quite so amusing and beautiful at the same time as a group of pre-adolescent boys who have just accomplished something they know to be spectacular. They were so loud and insufferable in their victory, that I made the seven of them sit at a separate table so we adults could enjoy our meal.

I must have also gotten caught up in the spirit of the moment because at some point during desert I stood up and announced that after the State Championships in two weeks, I was taking all seven of them camping and fishing to my place on Devil's Horn Mountain.

This was met with a raucous chorus of approval from the 'Seven Swimming Samurai'.

It was late that night when Terry pulled the limo through the gate at Joyous Gaurde. Sean had fallen asleep at least an hour ago so, with John's help, I gently got him out and carried him to our room.

He was still half asleep and flopping around like a rag doll as I undressed him. As I slid his underpants down off his hips I stopped suddenly and looked carefully to make certain of what I was seeing.

There at the base of his little cock, almost unnoticeable except for their darkness, were the unmistakable beginning of some pubic hairs… not very much to be sure but a certain sign that puberty was preparing to pounce on my little boy.

I softly ran a finger over his pubic area and they weren't detectable to the touch yet. I bent down and kissed the little area and then I kissed his tiny cock, his belly, his nose and his lips. He didn't move. 'Samurai Sean' the golden boy was out for the night.

I stood looking down at the gorgeous little naked boy on my bed for long minutes before I pulled the covers up over him.

My heart was full and my mind was racing as my eyes embraced his peaceful sleeping face. "What am I to you?" I whispered so softly that I could almost not hear myself. "Am I a friend, a lover… a father? Or am I a client; someone you've been taught to expect in your life… someone you've been raised to please. Do you love me and not know how to say it? Or is love something you've never learned and will never understand?"

I reached down and softly brushed my fingers through his thick black hair. "What are you to me?" I whispered again as I gently turned a lock of hair between my fingers.

"Are you a boy I rented and paid for to bring me moments of laughter and pleasure? Are you a lover in training? A brother to replace the one I've lost? Are you my young friend or perhaps… a son… a son I never thought to have? Or are you something else entirely… something not defined by a society that tries so hard to pigeon-hole everything and everybody?"

"What are you Sean that I feel so deeply for you… that my hearts soars when I see you smile? What are you that I cannot even speak it aloud? How can it possibly be that you've become so important and so dear to me that I can't even think about you clearly?"

I slipped out of my clothing and climbed into bed next to him. I lay there listening to his little boy 'almost snoring' noises. Just before sleep claimed me I thought to myself, I'm confused but I'm hopeful… so very hopeful.

C'mon, Eric. Make your decision! You know what you want to do! You know what's right for both of you! Make your decision NOW! BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE!

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