Teglin

Stupid Johnny

A Boylove Romance

Chapters 3-5

Chapter Three

It was like falling into a dream when I next awoke. Even before I opened my eyes, I felt the boy. Cuddled in my arms, his soft buttocks pressing down against my erection – oh how I felt him pressing against me along the entire length of his body – his head still resting against my chest, my arms still in his grasp, forcing me to hold him tight, his legs drawn up in my lap. Our bodies were so warm and cozy together. It was like he was fitted to me, and together we made up one living, breathing creature capable of enduring anything – the cold, the dark. The future. In this dream, we had a future.

When I did open my eyes, the dream deepened, for high up above, framed in the rear window of our sedan, was the constellation of Orion!

"Make Orion the Hunter your guide," Tomek would tell us back during the war, before every one of our winter raids. "Just like Orion, you will come and go in the night. You will hunt silently. Move quickly. Get your job done, before the Hunter is gone from above."

How many times through years since then had I dreamed about such moments, and always I would see the great Orion, his belt studded in scintillating diamonds, coursing above us. Then I would awake, and the image of Orion would disappear, leaving me with my heart pounding and surging in my ears.

This time was different. Orion stayed, and Jasio and I were the hunted, not the hunters. Still, my heart hammered just the same. I was wide awake instantly. Aware! Eyes open, ears straining against my raging pulse. Aroused like always in these moments, every muscle tensed. And my penis so hard that it almost hurt.

"Look!" Tomek used to whisper to the whole troop, "look at that horny little bastard," pointing at me and grinning. "Piotrek always gets a hardon before a raid."

Of course he was right. I never felt so alive as at such moments. Moments like this one.

"Let your little dickie be your guide, Piotrek," Tomek would sputter out sarcastically. We all would laugh. I didn't care. I reveled in it.

Now was no different. Well, my penis was no longer so small. If Jasio awoke, he'd feel a veritable log between my legs – 21 centimeters [8¼ inch] long, and as thick and as hard as a stout branch. Wet too. Damn. I'd be leaking precum from now till… till I could relieve myself.

I don't know what it is about me, but I can keep an erection for hours at a time. Especially one unbidden like this, one that comes upon me because I am going into battle again. The excitement, the adrenaline flow, the need for keeping my senses on edge. The need! Even if I could distract myself. Even if I got my rampant dick to soften for a moment, it would rise again till my need was fulfilled. Till the moment was over.

Damn that Tomek! He'd laugh and say, "Don't you touch that dick, Piotrek. I think it's smarter than you. And braver! Always leading the way!"

Well, I ought to have plenty to distract me now. I had a boy to feed and clothe and bathe. Above all I had to keep him out of the clutches of our pursuers until I could come up with a plan.

So here I sat in the dark – my watch showed 1:00 AM under Orion's haunting glow – just hoping I wouldn't wake up Jasio. Would he understand that the chase was on? That he had a part in it? Would he really want that part?

Would he understand my beating heart, my quickened breath, the glare of my roving eyes – or the unrelenting hardness of my manhood pressing up against his bottom?

There was nothing for it, but to get started. The very hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I sensed that someone was out there, searching for us already. The KGB. The Polish police… someone.

Taking care not to startle him, I pulled my arms slowly apart, reluctantly releasing him from my embrace. His hands loosened their hold just as slowly, and it seemed to me, just as reluctantly. They slid down and dropped limply to his tummy.

He didn't stir. Just slept the sleep of an exhausted, mistreated little boy, who for once was warm and dry and comfortable.

Hnnh! I suppressed a chuckle. He was as comfortable as a boy could be who had slept in a man's lap for three or four hours. Worst still, a man who sported a hardon that stabbed upwards mercilessly. When I slid my hands under his thighs, they felt so warm and moist, where our flesh had touched for so long. His skin there was like satin, so soft to my touch, but he was so slender that there wasn't a lot of pliant flesh there – just the firmness of his muscles, and the long sleek lines of his legs. Higher up, against my left wrist, I felt the cushiony softness of his bottom as I lifted him, practically holding him suspended in the air as I scooched out from underneath, and then let him down upon the car seat. The big coat slid down with him, exposing my bare shoulders and chest to the frigid air within the car. I shivered violently while I laid him flat upon the seat and made sure that the coat still covered him everywhere, propping it up just a bit near his head, so he could get some fresh air to breathe.

Quickly I reached for my shirt where I had thrown it after drying the boy and put it on. The sharp bite of its still damp cloth really just invigorated me. I felt every muscle within me tighten, both against the cold and with the need to get going. Still my penis, held tight against my pubis by my belted pants, was straining and hard.

My breath was visible in the sparklingly clear night air, when I got out of the back seat and closed the door as gently as I could manage. There was nary a sign of anyone around, but I didn't waste any time looking around before getting back into the driver's seat, and starting the engine.

It was so clear out that I left the lights off for the time being. Good that I did, too. Because as I backed the car off the side road onto the tarmac of the main road, I glimpsed small wavering lights back along the way. Just about where the turnout was. Probably Leon had rousted out the farmers, and they were already searching for us. I wondered if they could hear our car engine.

At any rate, that settled one thing. I hoped all the decisions Jasio and I had to make would be so easy. We'd have to drive on into the mountains, into the unknown, instead of back down the road to the last town I had passed. One thing was for sure, they wouldn't have any vehicle on that collective that could match the power and speed of my GAZ.

After the first good bend in the road I switched on the lights and sped up, and tried to relax back into the seat. God, I was so on edge! My mind was racing, my heart was still pounding, and my penis still strained against the imprisonment of my pants. As I drove, trying to imagine all the possibilities – where we would find food and lodging, how best to contact Pawel, how much time we had – I kept squirming in my seat, and reaching down again and again to grasp my tool and squeeze. My every move was tantalizing, causing the fabric of my waistband and belt to press down and grate against my super-sensitive glans. It electrified me, adding even more tension and urgency to the decisions at hand.

I kept looking back over my shoulder too, as if to reassure myself that Jasio was still there, in my care. He had slept through everything – all the moving around, when I settled him down prone on the back seat, tucking the coat in, making sure that no part of his body was bare to the frigid air; all the noise, doors closing, the engine barking to life; the jostling as I backed out and up onto the tarmac. He was out to the world, and in a way, I dreaded the moment when he would wake up. What would he think, waking up in a moving car?

It's not like I was kidnapping him. I honestly felt like he had given me all the signs that he trusted me. I had told him that I would take care of him. He had pulled my arms tight about him.

Still, I worried. I didn't want him to be scared. I didn't want him to think I'd do anything to jerk him out of his world – but I had to do something! I couldn't just take him back to those farmers before I had got him some new clothes, fed him – maybe even get him a medical check – and damn sure I wasn't going to take him back there without some leverage.

This mountain road wasn't making anything easier. Each passing mile proved that the villages, so close together down on the plains, had no reason for existence up here beneath the rising walls of the mountains.

The road followed a rift up into the range – it kept crossing and recrossing the same fast-running stream, twisting in tight curves around jutting rock outcrops, and skirting the very edges of looming crags.

We were on the road for a good 30 minutes, with not even a hint of habitation. I was seriously considering the alternative, and was about to start looking for a place to turn about and reluctantly dare the fates down on the flats, when the very next turn brought me up hard. It was a fork in the road, and one that was definitely not on my map!

Thankfully, I had the presence of mind not to slam on the brakes and tumble Jasio onto the floorboards, but I did pull the car over to the side of the road as much as possible, and slowed to a stop. Then I just sat there starring ahead, leaning forward over the steering wheel. My first thought was one of panic – so much for my well-laid plan to get over the mountains using the Old King's Way! Which way WAS the King's Way?

My second thought was one of astonishment, because in the shadows cast by the headlights high upon the great citadel of rock rising up between the two roads, was something straight out of 'The Arabian Nights'. Looming there, conjured out of the very stygian blackness of this forested mountain passage was a huge flat rock face filled with petroglyphs, hieroglyphs, or… or whatever else such things are called – great symbols carved, hammered, chiseled, directly into this virgin stone outcropping that sprang up before us from the very core of the great mountain range.

Road markers. Signs. Symbols. I didn't know how to decipher all of them. Even in the dark, with the light from the car slanting shadows upward from every pit and cavity within the great carvings, I could see that some were ancient, weathered by the passage of hundreds, probably thousands of years. Others were by the hands of much more recent artisans, and all too easily recognizable.

On the right side – for there were actually two very different sets of carvings – rose two towering, majestic emblems of the Great White Eagle, the traditional standard of Poland's old royal families. One of the Eagles was crudely hammered – a stark figure from out of the Dark Ages. The other was magnificently detailed – an almost living relief of the mighty eagle, no doubt from the time when Poles ruled all the Slavs. Below these royal crests, the words 'Droga Starego Króla' showed that here was indeed the King's Way across the mountains.

On the other side, hanging over the other route, were a multitude of carvings. Dominating them all was another famous family crest upon the face of a great shield. I recognized it immediately – what Pole wouldn't know the bold banner of the great Podhorowski family? Two interlocking horseshoes, one a bit smaller than the other, but facing away from the other – it was the symbol of the divided loyalties of a family often more powerful than the royals at times in our nation's past. That wasn't what hit me though. Superimposed upon that ancient crest, was a much more recent defacement – two interlocking gashes of jagged lightening – the emblem of the German SS – again one smaller than the other. Those hated symbols almost brought the bile up into my throat, even though someone had obviously chipped away at them, trying to remove their disfiguring, spider-like scrawl upon the Podhorowski crest.

There were other emblems upon the left-side rock face. All different, but following a very obvious pattern. Two plain circles, one smaller and linked with the larger. Two Byzantine crosses, the smaller superimposed and offset over the larger. Two barely decipherable petroglyphs, perhaps very ancient Runes. To my mind, and in my still very much aroused state, the two slanted lines, connected only at their bases, looked like nothing so much as potent phallic symbols.

Below all these were two words – Grecka Droga.

The Greek Road.

The road beneath these enigmatic symbols was hard-topped also, but a bit narrower than the King's Way, and oddly enough it was paved with concrete. It had the look of heavy usage in years past, with faint oil and exhaust stains running right up the middle of it, but even in the tire paths there were weeds growing up here and there from fissures in the pavement.

I almost felt I was hallucinating. Here I was in a lonely mountain passage, rock cliffs rising on all sides, and this… Greek Road… with it's haunting reminders of both the recent and the ancient past, had appeared as if by magic in the dark of the night! I swear, I kept staring ahead, wide-eyed, but ever so slowly I reached back with my right hand and stretched to feel the blanketed form of the little boy in the back seat. I touched the curve of his hip, and just held my fingertips there for a moment.

Yes. This was all for real. Jasio and I were indeed here. The rising bulk of the mountains on either side of us were not imaginary, the fork in this road was not some figment. Nor was the choice.

To the right? Would that lead us sooner to respite?

Or… to the left?

I just couldn't shake the feeling that this Greek Way had appeared out of thin air… just for me and Jasio! As if luring us.

No. Guiding us.

I had had premonitions before. An unexplained sense of… purposefulness, fate, Providence… I don't know what to call it. I felt it that long-ago moment in '39, when I laid down the shovel I had used to bury my mother and father, and turned to see Tomek standing watching me. I had felt it just yesterday morning, talking to Pawel on the phone. Truth be told, I had been practically struck down by the feeling, yesterday evening, on this very road, when I stopped so suddenly, realizing that I had to return to Jasio.

"I don't know what it is, Misiu," I suddenly uttered out loud, still staring up at the symbols marking the Grecka Droga, "but I think we must go left."

I heard Jasio sigh then and rustle the coat, as he turned over on the seat. I looked back to make sure he was still completely covered and adjusted the covering about his feet. He hadn't awoken, but somehow I felt his continued, peaceful slumber was a sign. All was well. Notwithstanding those ugly SS slashes etched into the rock face, we would go left. Certainly not all the way to Greece! Hopefully soon to find some food, and a place to rest without fear of discovery.

I eased the car back into gear and took the chosen way, passing directly underneath the extraordinary set of glyphs. I reached down and felt that my penis was no longer engorged. For the moment at least, fear, or… uncertainty drained away at my spirit. The sense of purposefulness waned for a moment, as I gave in to doubt. What had I gotten Jasio into? Was it right that I consign his destiny to the rule of my feeble premonition?

Cement. Even that made this Grecka Droga unusual. I could only imagine that it was some kind of war-related construction. The Germans had left their concrete scars all over our land. And yet, this way had obviously been marked and used for countless centuries before the war.

I took the road a bit slower, but pushed on ever deeper into the forest that seemed to close in upon us – huge boles rose up now right at the very edge of the pavement. I rolled down the window a bit. Even with the steady rumble of the engine, there was an eerie sort of 'quiet.' A calmness and darkness disturbed only by the moving car. There was a sibilant gurgling off to the left, and through the thickly clustered tree trunks, the headlights reflected off a small brook that tumbled over a rocky bed.

A bare rock cliff rose just to the right of the road, less than twenty meters [65 feet] away, but the further we went the height of that great rock wall diminished – the only real indication that we were still gaining ever so slowly in altitude.

Two kilometers [1½ miles] along the Grecka Droga, and the trees started to thin out and recede from the edge of the road, and the brook disappeared. The high rock wall off to the right was now a mere ledge, and then it simply blended into the ground as I drove the car up a slight rise and suddenly found ourselves in the very center of a courtyard – a cobbled, leaf-strewn expanse – with small white-washed lodges in either side of us, and straight ahead a much larger structure – like a rustic inn. This, apparently, was the end of our road.

The place looked empty, unoccupied, but well-kept. Not abandoned.

Definitely not abandoned, for as I drove the car slowly up to the steps of the main building, out shuffled a wizened old crone. She must have been 90! Or a 100. Stoop-shouldered and gray, draped in a disheveled robe of sepulchral white, no doubt thrown over her nightgown when the sound of our car rousted her from sleep. I glanced at my watch. It was almost exactly 2 AM now.

The woman was certainly not too old and weak to sling a double barreled shotgun under one arm, and to hold a flashlight in the other – both pointing in my general direction – but her whole body was shaking. It was a slow, rhythmic rattling of her ancient bones. Not from the cold or fright – she looked anything but frightened as she glared at me – perhaps it was from some affliction of age.

I suppressed a most disconcerting urge to chuckle, figuring it wouldn't take all that much steadiness of aim for her to blast a man-sized whole through my windshield if I enraged her any more than she already was. For she looked likely to blast away. Not at all happy to have her sleep, nor perhaps her privacy, disturbed.

When I brought the car to a complete stop, I hesitated for a split second, then just turned off the engine and lights and very slowly rested my hands on the steering wheel where she could see them.

She looked grim, and very much intending to be taken seriously, when she motioned with the flashlight that I should step out of the car. I got out, but left the door open, not wanting to startle Jasio awake at this very moment. What if he suddenly arose, poking his head up over the front seat?! Would she fire away?

I stepped away from the car, happy to see that she turned with me, keeping the gun and flashlight aimed at me.

It was cold in this mountain air! And here I was without my coat again! I must have looked quite the frightened innocent, standing there rigid against the cold, trying to suppress my own shivers.

"The Grecka Droga is closed," she croaked out, her voice hard and inflexible. "Turn your car around and go back down the road. Your kind aren't welcome here, anyway."

Again I felt that incongruous urge to laugh. It was hard to take the old witch seriously!

"And what is my kind, old woman?" I tossed off banteringly, through teeth clenched against the cold.

"You're a Commie. That's your kind. I don't need your kind around here."

"You do know it's illegal to have a gun, don't you? Much less to point it at som…"

"Piss on you and your Commie rules," she said, and then she worked up her toothless gums and twisted her mouth into the most horrifically ugly grimace I could ever imagine, and spat out a huge wad of some brownish gunk that splattered expertly right on my shoes!

I jumped back, keeping my hands still by my side. She might be old and toothless, but I realized I had better not take her threats lightly.

"I didn't kowtow to the Nazis, and I won't bend over for the likes of you either. I served the Podhorowski's! Nobles, by birth and nature. I spit on your kind," she muttered angrily, and I saw that she was about to wrestle up another gob of spittle for my pleasure.

I decided to take a different tack. Jasio needed a place to sleep. And some food. I did too, for that matter.

"Pardon my intrusion. I'm sincerely sorry to show up here at such an awkward hour. However, you obviously have rooms here, and that's all I'm asking for. A place to stay the rest of the night, perhaps a bite to eat in the morning?" I pleaded, holding my hands forward, palms out.

"Get out, I said," she repeated, unimpressed by my soft words.

"But I can't go on driving forev…"

"That's exactly what you can do, for all I care. Now for the last time, get out! I know how to use this cannon if I…"

"But I have a boy with me!" I blurted out, still pleading, seeing that she was about to raise the shotgun to point it more directly at me. "He needs rest, a good bed, some food, some clean clothes – he's had a hard time out…"

"Shut up!" she barked at me, then she looked towards the car and quickly shone the flashlight through the windows. It was maddening to just stand there and watch her blazing that light through the windows towards Jasio, it's beam shaking slowly along with her whole palsied body. Had I made a mistake? Should I just lunge forward and wrestle that gun from her hands? Would she harm…

"A boy?" she asked suddenly, looking back at me suspiciously.

"Yes, he's in the back seat now, sleeping."

"Let me see, then." she answered gruffly, as she started down the steps. I wished she would drop the gun. It wavered about wildly as she descended the steps. I reached hesitantly as if to help her down, but she motioned me away with the flashlight, grumbling under her breath.

I shifted towards the back door of the car to open it for her, keeping a wary eye on the gun. If she so much as hinted at a threat to Jasio, I would cut her down..

"No!" she yelled at me angrily.

"But I thought you wanted to see the boy," I answered meekly, backing away from the car again.

"It's you I want to see, stupid. I know what boys look like," she said as she waddled closer to me and pointed the flashlight right up into my face, blinding me. I just stood there stiffly. I could have pounced on her, taken the gun from her then, but for some reason I… I just felt her authority, as if she had the right to inspect me. That it was important for me to let her have her way.

I couldn't see her with the glare in my eyes, but I could hear her rasping breath just below me. She was no taller than Jasio, and came only up to my chest level.

She punched me in the chest with her finger, and said very solemnly, speculatively, "you have a strong face, Communist. Do you also have a strong heart?"

"I… think so." I answered, taken aback at her question.

"Will you care for the boy?"

The question hit me like a lightening bolt out of a blue sky! What could this old hag know of… what could she know of me, of how I felt, of what kind of man I was, of my past, of… my present? What could she sense? What could she read in my face? Did she know? Did she sense… anything?

"Well, will you care for the boy?!" she repeated, this time impatiently.

"Yes! Yes… babciu. I will care for him," I answered solemnly.

"I'm not your grandmother" she grumbled, and lowered the flashlight. She started towards the car. "But you can call me that for his sake," she said, waving the beam of light in Jasio's direction. "Now show me the boy."

I hastily strode to the back door and opened it, then started to lift the coat from Jasio's head. She had just enough time to see the soft lines of his forehead and nose, when she said, "Alright. You can stay. For the boy."

"I thank yo…"

"Don't thank me. It's for the boy. We shall see if it's for you also. Now come with me," she ordered as she started to shamble off towards the steps. "I will give you a key. You bring me his clothes. And yours too. I will wash them. You can have breakfast at 8. Then you will take a bath in the warm spring."

Now for what I was dreading. How was I to explain that we had no extra clothing. "Yes, ma'am. But… I'm sorry, babciu, but… uh… neither the boy nor I have any other clothes."

She stopped and turned again towards me, and again she shone the flashlight up into my face. "Why would you travel the Grecka Droga without… have you… did you take this boy by force from his family?" she demanded fiercely.

"No, grandmother. I assure you he came willingly. As far as I know he has no family. He was being mistreated by the farmers down on the flats, he has no parents and…"

"You mean the farmers of the Jodłówka Collective?" she asked sharply.

"Yes. I found the boy beside the road. I… hit his cart, with my car, and I feared that…"

She spat again. This time off to my side. "Save your explanations for the morning, Communist," she said dismissively. "I've seen your face. I have also seen the faces of the farmers of the collective. I know them all too well. You will do as I say. I will bring you some clothing. Then I will wash your things."

The fire crackled and flickered in unsyncapated, arrhythmic counterpoint to my cooing voice. Its life-giving, warming tendrils licked up against the rock-lined confines of the hearth, offering our only source of light. It was pitch black outside in the darkest hours before the dawn, but inside our cabin I could finally look upon him.

Him.

Jasio.

I murmured to him unceasingly – about all the possibilities, about all the improbabilities. Or perhaps I spoke mere nonsense. Whatever it was, I couldn't stop it, no more than I could keep from glancing over at him on the bed, where he lay in the deepest slumber, still wrapped in my coat.

Everything seemed so right again. I finished setting out the clothes that the old woman had lent us, then let my hand linger over the impossible softness of the flannel nightgown she intended for my boy.

I wondered how long it had been since he had felt something so soft against his skin – something soft enough for him, good enough for him, worthy of him.

I grasped the nightgown and traipsed silently in my bare feet to his side. I had already stripped to my shorts, and now I slipped out of those too, letting them drop to the floor trailing precum all the way down my legs, and releasing my heavy penis to swing out, free and hard – in that same unrelenting arousal that I had known was going to mark this day. My erection had returned along with the sense that so far, I had made all the right choices.

"Let Orion the Hunter be your guide…" Well, the mighty Hunter had done well for the Hunted, this night.

We had our sanctuary. New clothes. The promise of a welcome to the old woman's table. The offer of a cleansing bath in the Grecka Droga's warm springs.

Plus we had time. Time to plan Jasio's future. Time to just… be.

Selfishly, as I stood above him, stroking my engorged penis with one hand, and feeling the softness of the gown in the other, I acknowledged that another reason I was aroused was that I wanted the Time most of all. Time to just be with him.

"Little Angel Boy, it's time to get your nightgown on and then get you properly under the covers," I whispered to him as I sat down just above his head on the bed. The nightgown might be soft, but sitting on the bed was like being suddenly enveloped in a cloud! The comforter alone was 15 centimeters [6 inch] thick with down and like silk to the touch.

I practically glided Jasio upright upon that frictionless coverlet, slipping my hands under the coat to gently grasp his upper arms from beneath, and just pull him onto me. The coat fell away… the firelight, reflecting off the dark, polished lacquer of the log walls, played in shades of tempered gold upon his pale flesh, highlighting the little crease at his belly-button, casting a dark shadow below that, where his flat tummy disappeared within the coat. The flare of his hips, and the flattening of his buttocks upon the silken surface of the coverlet were mere hints of what lay out of view. My penis extended hot against his thigh – with a mind of its own, wanting to burrow beneath his flesh and feel the pressure of his body abrading its tenderness.

His head lay propped within the crook of my neck, resting warm against my cheek. I felt the slow rise and fall of his chest beneath my chin, as I gathered up the fabric of the nightgown in both of my hands, and then slid it over his still unkempt and unwashed hair. It fell easily to his shoulders, then cascaded slowly in lovely folds to his tummy, where it puddled concentrically about him. His thin arms dangled like a puppet's within the gown – I was his marionette as I searched beneath the fabric for each of his little hands in turn and guided them up and through the arm holes.

He was light as a feather against me, and I considered for a moment sitting like that all through the rest of the hours until dawn. I knew he'd sleep better if I laid him down, however, so I pulled the edge of the comforter in towards us, then simply slid Jasio over onto the mattress.

His little white bottom and the backs of his thighs and legs blended into the creamy white of the bed sheet. Angel boy, in truth. His legs seemed to extend in smooth white perfection forever, belying the fact that he was just a child.

I pulled the hem of his gown down over the mounds of his bottom and smoothed and tugged it even lower, down to his calves. Then I flipped the edge of the comforter over him and stood to smooth it all the way to the wall. Now Jasio was where he belonged, ensconced in a bed just right for a sleepy little boy – so soft, so thick, wrapping him in comfort and warmth.

I froze as Jasio moved under the covers, pulling his legs up and curling into a fetal position. He pushed one hand up from beneath the covers then, and twined his fingers around a lock of hair laying upon the sheet just at his forehead. For the briefest moment his fingers twiddled in the silken strands, then fell lax again, curled in upon themselves in a little circle. His lips parted, and just the glistening tip of his tongue darted out to wet his lips. He murmured softly, the opening note of some sweet melody that submerged back into the silence of his dreams? Or perhaps it was a whimper, for his other hand emerged from the covers, his fingers curled again right at the tip of his nose, and he settled his thumb into his mouth and started suckling on it.

Circles.

My eyes lifted from the circles formed by his delicate fingers, to look about our one-roomed sanctuary in amaze. The patterns… that motif upon the picture rock, above the intersection of the roads … they were everywhere about our room too.

Oh, it had the trappings of the typical resort cabin – a closet, and a little alcove beside that for a polished metal sink and ceramic faucet. Hot and cold water – I supposed piped in from the warm spring and the mountain creek. The bed was set against one wall, with a narrow walkway between it and the wall facing the courtyard. But set in that wall was the oddest shaped window. A white lace curtain covered it thinly, but through that veil I saw the message drawn in the window pane. It was in the shape of a large rectangle, and overlapping that, a smaller one, creating an irregularly shaped trapezoid that had to have been hand-made and glazed. Another similar window, over the bed, looked out upon the blackness of the forest. There were a wooden table, it's surface carved by some skilled craftsman into the shape of two tear-drops, overlapping – and again, one smaller than the other… there was a woolen throw rug between the foot of the bed and the table… and once more, the interlocking circles, one smaller than the other…

For a moment perhaps no longer than the catch of my breath, or the beat of Jasio's heart, I sat suspended in time, for suddenly my eyes fell back upon the bed, where the bend of my knee almost touched Jasio's hand, and I saw… hallucinated… the pattern.. Perhaps it was only what I wanted to see. Me. Jasio. Man. Boy. One touching the other. Lives intertwined. Circles of existence. Once so separate, now together. I was transported back out onto that place where we met, when I first beheld the little boy staring up into my face, and how for a moment, our circle of existence was all that there was in the entire world. Now on this bed, once again, we might just as well be the only two people in the entire universe. We were One, because we came together. We were One, because our circles of existence… overlapped.

I reached down and looped my own fingers through his, wishing I never had to let him go. Still, there were things I had to do before I could steal the remaining hours of the night with him in my arms.

In a daze, I stood and turned back to the hearth and squatted to place another couple of logs on it. My penis jutted out lewdly, wobbling between my widespread legs. As I knelt to stand back up, I saw a drop of my precum that had fallen to darken the red brick edging the hearth. Wasted? Useless? No. Not wasted. I don't know if I truly even wanted release at that moment. My continuing erection made me feel even more this boy's protector and guardian.

With the screen securely back in place, I walked over to the table, determined to ignore the tightness, the fullness, in my groin. My balls ached and hung as heavily as I could ever remember them. My penis begged to be held and stroked. But not now. The old woman had told me to bring our dirty clothes to her at breakfast time. There wasn't much to do, other than getting all of Jasio's collection of odds and ends out of his coat. I shook the cobwebs from my brain, and feeling a bit like I was invading his privacy, I spread the coat out on the table and laid it open with a clunk and clatter – a small broken wrench fell out, with a twisted metal wire attached to it through a hole in the handle. I set it on the edge of the table. A wad of rags bulged from an inside pocket. I lifted them out, and placed them right below the wrench. Then a fork, with two tongs broken off of it, a sewing thimble, a large key – its haft broken off at some point, but obviously hammered back together. Next I drew from the coat a notched stick.

I shook my head in amazement. There was such mystery to each of these things. I wondered how he found them, why he kept them, how he used them? I counted the marks on the stick, and examined their order. Thirty-two little cuts taken out of the bark, evenly spaced, leaving light yellow gashes. The last four were crudely crossed and slashed. Then a space, and seven more notches below those.

Every item, just like that stick, with a purpose beyond my ken, took it's place in neat rows on the table top. Every one had some meaning for the boy, and I intended to make sure he found them all when he woke up.

There was no doubt. This boy was a marvel. It both thrilled and dismayed me to touch his things like this. I felt a kind of awe, and thought back upon his cart. Then I remembered that strange arc of small obelisks set out so orderly next to Leon's cottage. Jasio's Field of Corn. And here was Jasio's Broken Wrench. Jasio's Knotted Ball of String. And Jasio's… Coat of Many Wonders…

Had I stumbled upon a little prodigy here? A boy who could turn junk into a working, innovative machine? A boy whose ingenuity and curiosity had not only been ignored, but actually scorned?

Once again, I wondered most of all, what could I do about that!? What could I accomplish in this one or two days, before everything came crashing down on us.

By the time I finished retrieving all the odds and ends from his coat, it was going on 3 AM. I bundled all his old clothes and mine into the coat and placed it outside on the steps.

Yawning uncontrollably as I closed the door and turned back inside, I stretched, then stepped back to the bed hesitantly, giving my penis another wrenching, punishing twist and squeeze. It was tormenting me. I needed to go ahead and jack off right then and there. I needed it desperately. I feared that not even exhaustion would make it go down otherwise, but I didn't want to waste even the few moments necessary for that in a solitary release. I wanted to be with him! That was the meaning of this moment.

Cautiously I slipped in under the comforter, and in the tiniest of little nudges, I snuggled up against his back, holding my penis up against my stomach. He might feel it there when he awoke, but there was little I could do about it. I released it feeling the softness of his nightgown, and the firmness of his back beneath that, pressing against it. His gown would get soaked there, but there was nothing I could do about that either. Lovingly, I then slid one arm underneath and the other over him, to draw him into my embrace.

My arm was his pillow. Perhaps not so soft as the real one that I used for my own head, but surely comforting, in a different way. At least I hoped he would feel that.

I held him like that for the longest time, till even the firelight had cast its last glimmer upon the wall. To my surprise, just the feel of Jasio next to me – just those moments of BEING with him – consumed all my inner tension, fulfilled my desire, met my need – all those elements that made me so hard – were spent just getting to know him. For the time being at least, I felt the expression of my man-ness in our embrace – my whole body was against his, not just my penis. I had no more need of an erection. I had only to hold him. I swear that as I grew softer, I felt even more intimate with him, feeling like I could perhaps hold him even closer.

Long moments they were, but all too short for me. In each of them I tried to live a lifetime – feeling what it was like to have a boy's curling hair pressed, unmoving, into the flesh of my bicep; marveling at what it felt like when a boy's hot, sweet breath kissed the tender flesh in the crook of my elbow; listening for the faintest whisper of that little boy's breath. When I could steal a thought from those sensations, it was but to lose myself in others: did I know before these brief moments, that if you place your fingers in a sleeping boy's palm, he will curl his own fingers about it just like a baby? Had I ever imagined that the smell of a boy – even an unwashed boy – was earthy, but sweet at the same time – a cleanliness that must come from his very youth? It was so penetrating within the confines of our covers.

Each new sensation served as a reminder that I had gone the better part of my life alone. Stefan was a lingering memory. Tomek too. It seemed that memories were all I was to be allotted in this life. To those I would now add a few precious hours with Jasio.

At some point – I remember I had my right palm resting right over his tummy, my eyes closed, trying to sense the tiny little gurgles inside there, imagining the infinitesimally slow movement of his diaphragm – he suddenly stretched out his legs and arms, his thumb plopping from between his lips. He uttered a little groan of satisfaction, and then turned over right there in my arms. Now it was his turn to nudge in closer to my body – I swear he snuggled in against me, seeking the touch of our bodies together, seeking our shared warmth, perhaps wanting that sense of being safeguarded and treasured that I wanted so much to give him.

Then I remember placing my hands on his bottom and pulling him in even tighter. I lingered there, feeling the pliant softness of his cheeks and the little vale between them. I fell asleep as my conscious caresses gave way to the slow rhythm of my hands traveling up and down his thighs and bottom, and I joined him in a complete surrender to… us.

Chapter Four

Sunlight spotted the wall in slowly wavering patterns. Jasio noticed the play of the undulating light mosaic upon the dark, curved surface of the logs the very instant he awoke. He was laying on his back, on a bed – on something – so utterly soft that it was beyond anything in his memory. Beneath his head he felt the warmth of another being's flesh – an arm. A large arm. A man's arm, its muscles firm, but cushioning his head.

With the slightest turn, he felt the heat of the man's body against his cheek. They were lying together, so close. Indeed a man's body, since it rose so high above him and the muscular chest was covered with wavy hair – slowly rising and falling – the man was asleep, on his side. Jasio felt the man's chin against the top of his own head. Heard his deep breaths.

For a bare instant, he felt panicky. His heart started pumping faster and he wanted to spring up and away from this man, but… did that really make any sense? The man was asleep. They had obviously been lying together like this for some time. Jasio felt so wonderfully warm and comfortable. He willed his body to be still. There was time to think.

Yes. Time to think. Time to do what he did best – no matter that no one but himself believed there could be any value in it.

'So. Think!' he admonished himself. 'Think.'

He and the man were lying so close together. Their bodies touched down there too, below, under the covers – on his leg – his right leg, the entire length of his calf and thigh nestled against the leg of the man.

There was something hard there, and hot, pressing into his side. Jasio felt for it, and then his hand recoiled – he stifled a gasp, realizing that it was the man's cock. Swollen, stiff and extended, pressing out forcefully alongside the sunken cavity of the boy's tummy.

Jasio had only touched one other man's cock. Leon's had seemed huge, but not compared to this one. This one seemed longer, pressing out against him, from his hip all the way up over his stomach.. Both cocks were hot, though. Hard, yet with that incredible softness that just didn't make sense – he had always marveled at how a cock, even his own little prick, could at the same time be so stiff and yet be so soft and smooth to the touch, the skin over it practically gliding effortlessly. It always excited him for some reason.

Jasio suddenly felt the aching in his own crotch that he always felt when his own thing got hard – especially when Leon forced him to suck on the man's thick cock, he always felt this tightening between his legs – and deep inside, all the way up into his tummy, and his chest. It was so strange – like something he wanted so badly, but also couldn't bear. He had often wondered, how he could feel the same kind of… hurt, and longing, when he got hard down there, as when he just felt so alone and hopeless. It was a kind of emptiness that demanded to be filled. It maddened him, too. He hated the way Leon got so angry and mean, and yet… he loved that feel of the strength of the man's cock, and that longing…

But this wasn't Leon. Whenever Leon got in the mood for a suck he would force Jasio into bed, but it always ended the same way. Leon would kick him out. "A man's cock is made to suck and fuck, but a boy's prick is just useless," he would say. "Now get out of here before I take a strap to you. I'll get me a real pussy."

No. Leon never kept him in bed. So this man beside him was not Leon. Anyway, Jasio remembered now, and the new thought excited him even more.

Again he tried to calm himself. He slowly, carefully lifted his head, so that his nose and mouth were above the edge of the covers, and breathed the chill air in deeply, then cautiously edged his head over, away from the man's chest. He wanted to look at the man's face. It just had to be the Party man.

Yes!

Jasio's heart thumped wildly, recognizing the Party man's handsome face, but for some reason he didn't feel the slightest bit afraid. Just… almost… happy!

He was in a strange man's bed, but… well, he knew why he didn't feel afraid – the tall man had saved him. He had refused to let Leon take him. And then in the man's car, he had held Jasio ever so tightly – had whispered so softly and gently, had dried him, warmed him, touched him. He had tried to make the boy feel good. Something Leon would never do. Something nobody, man or woman, had ever done before. So. He knew why he felt happy too. A scared kind of happy, though – not afraid of the man, but… why had the man done all that?!

Why?

Ok, so he knew 'who. But… why? And where? Where was this? How did they get here?

Curtained windows. None of the farmers had curtains. Not even Leon. Walls of smoothed and varnished logs, lain one atop the other. Darkened by age. There was a fine coating of dust, laid down evenly upon each log. Not just upon the upwardly sloping curve, but all over. Clean, but… a room not used very often. A bed not used very often, either – it smelled so fresh… of soap, and the dank scent of their bodies – his, and the man's.

Certainly not any of the farmers homes. Only the storage room in Leon's cottage was unoccupied on a daily basis, and this was no storage room. Jasio had been locked in there often enough to know its cluttered confines very well.

So the Party man had brought him here. Wherever here was.

Where did Party men live, after all?

The air was different. So clear. Even filtered through the curtains, there was a different color to the brightness. Jasio had often thought about how the very color of the sky and the clearness of the air changed in so many ways – with the different types of clouds, with the seasons – and yet this air, this type of air wasn't filed away in any of his memories. There was a dry chill to it, even though he felt so snug and warm under the covers with the man. The sun was well up already, but there was a sharpness to this cold, and a… a tang. He could smell it. It was… yes, the smell of the long, freshly cut logs that the farmers brought back from their trip to the mountains every summer. Like that, anyway.

Where then? The mountains? The man had driven them up into the mountains?

Jasio sat up slowly. The covers slipped from his chest. The boy stared down at himself, marveling at the garment that covered him from his neck on down – a sleeping gown, like some of the girls had, back on the collective. The man must have dressed him in it. It was indescribably soft – so soft that he honestly hadn't even felt it until now – and so warm against the cold air in the room. His shoulders still felt caressed in the warmth, even though he was sitting up.

The covers had slid down the man's chest too, and tented out from his waist. Jasio reached over tentatively, and lifted the edge of the comforter to peek under. The wet tip of the man's cock peeked out, and the dark tan shaft below that. Jasio glanced down at his nightie – there was a wet spot there, darkening the cream-colored fabric, exactly where he had felt the man's cock stabbing into his side.

Perhaps that answered the 'why.'

'He brought me here, dressed me, took me to his bed. His need is obvious – his cock is hard and long. When Leon gets like that I have to suck him. So is that what this was all about? And yet… it's morning… and I have a piss hardon myself. I always get one. He did touch me down there, last night, but… he did it just for me. I know he did. Just for me.'

The memory of it renewed the aching he felt deep inside. The man had done that, just to be… nice.

Jasio carefully pulled the covers back up, all the way to the man's shoulder and very gently tucked the edge of the comforter into the hollow of the man's neck. Then he just stared at the Party man's face – hard, tough looking, even in his sleep – serious looking, like he hadn't had a lot of joy in his life, and yet…

Jasio wondered at his own calm. This man beside him had brought him up into the mountains without even asking his permission, and…

No. That wasn't really true. Now he remembered. The man told him he would take care of him. He asked only that Jasio trust him. But… why?

Why?

Jasio scooted back against the wall, but just as he was about to draw his legs in, to sit cross-legged, he hesitated. For some reason he didn't want to pull his foot away from where it rested against the man's flesh.. That touch was… the man was the source of…

Jasio suddenly felt like crying. He tried to stifle it, sucking in his trembling lower lip and biting it. Forcing himself to keep breathing slowly, steadily.

Who was this man?! Why was every moment with him filled with so many questions!? And with this… aching.

The boy slipped his outstretched feet, toes down, right up against the hot flesh of the man's thigh. He just couldn't bear to be separated… and he didn't understand why! Again he stifled a sob, and brought one hand to his lips.

It hurt! This not knowing! Thinking that this man… really cared…

It hurt, knowing one thing. That if this man did not care, then… what was there to hold onto any longer?

'How pitiful my life,' thought Jasio, 'that this stranger is all I have.'

He studied the man's face again, still keeping his feet tucked in under the man's leg. He propped himself up with both arms, his hands splayed against the softness of the bed.

It was a good face. Tough and serious, it was, but also clean. The dark stubble all over his cheeks and chin made him look rugged. Well, Leon and all the farmers of the collective looked rugged too. They were all strong. And they were all so cruel.

Jasio sighed. Understanding now. He realized he didn't feel like crying anymore. He laid his head back against the hardness of the log wall, giving in to the feeling. All he wanted to do was to trust this Party man. To give him what he had asked. It didn't matter that he really had no choice. He WANTED to trust this man. He WANTED to be here, with this man.

'This man' he thought, 'he gave me food. He came back to me. Oh please, don't let this man ever be mean to m…'

Jasio heard shuffling outside! There was someone out there, like someone dragging their feet. And a horrible grunting and wheezing sound that carried so clearly in the total quiet of the morning. Quickly he slid back down under the covers, turning his back to the man and curving up against his body. His eyes were wide open, but he pulled the covers right up over his head. Just the man's presence there, almost enveloping his own small body underneath their shared covers, made him feel protected, whoever or whatever was coming.

Jasio woke me. I felt him snuggling up against me, his back to my chest, his little bottom pressing right down against my erection! What a way to awake! I was suddenly overwhelmed in all my senses – the softness of his gown-clad body against my bare flesh, that distinctive unwashed scent of his hair, where it pressed right up beneath my nose, a tiny little whimper or sigh of… comfort, and security? The cloth of his nightgown felt cool against my chest – he must have risen, then returned to our bed. My god how that thought thrilled me! That he would seek my embrace was like a stamp of approval on all I had done!

"Getting cozy again, Misiu?" I croaked softly, surprised at how hoarse my voice was from the sleep. I wrapped my arms about him and drew him in even closer. His little arms were crossed over his chest and captured so snugly under mine, but he didn't offer even the slightest of resistance. If anything, he seemed to shrink into my embrace. "Hope you had a good night's sle…"

"I thought I told you to bring the clothes to me, Communist!" the old woman's voice rasped like a frog's croak, but carried clearly through the closed cabin door. I heard her stamping slowly up the porch steps.

Jasio seemed to shrink in to an even tighter little package within my arms. I patted his hand reassuringly, then called out, craning my neck towards the door, "I'm so sorry babciu, I guess we overslept."

"Make sure you don't oversleep your breakfast," she answered gruffly. She seemed to turn away form the door then, but we could hear her easily enough. "All these men… care about… is their boys. Never a thought… for anyone else." She seemed to groan and grunt down each step, but in truth she sounded a lot less perturbed than her words might have suggested. "That Captain Rudenko is the worst. Misha this, Misha that."

"Oh!" she suddenly shouted again. "You empty your own chamber pot," she commanded, then more quietly, as if talking to herself again, "I'll do just about anything else for your boys, but not that. No. Let the men do that. That's been my policy always." And then louder again, "Or… or else… you just head out behind the cabins to the common outhouse. Now, be in the dining room in ten minutes, you two," she called out to us a lot less petulantly.

"Yes ma'am!" I called back to her, then nuzzling my cheek against Jasio's head, I said to him, "I guess we had better not disobey her, Jasio."

It was kind of odd they way she talked about 'the men' and their boys, as if men showing up with little boys in tow was so very common around this place. "I suspect you're wondering who she is," I said to Jasio, half considering it myself. I started to pull our covers down and sat up, one arm till beneath him and pulling him up with me. "And… perhaps… well, you'd probably like to know more about me, and where we are, and… everything else too. Right?"

He sat up with me willingly, and kind of half-turned as I let him loose from my grasp, to look me in the eyes with those huge brown luminescent orbs of his. The clean, crisp mountain air was suddenly filled with his scent, arising from within our overturned covers and from his flannel nightie. Still that glorious, boyish, unwashed mix. I had a feeling we would change that very soon, with a bath in the warm springs. If only I could bottle each of his scents, and keep them beyond this day.

He didn't say anything, but his expression said it all. It was wide-eyed with wonder. His lips were firmly closed and he breathed slowly through his nostrils as he looked up at me expectantly. There might have been a bit of fear there too, in the way he kept his hands together in his lap, in the way he held his body so rigid before me – and yet, he didn't move away.

I dared to lift my hand to the ringlets of caked hair that covered his right ear. His hair was dry now, but dirty, still clinging loosely to the sides of his head, and now matted by sleep into stray clumps that stuck out here and there. I looked straight into his eyes while gently brushing his curls. "You're such a brave boy, Jasio, to trust me like this. I'll make sure I deserve your trust."

He raised his head just a bit, his chin jutting out very sternly, his eyes drilling into mine. Challenging me. He didn't waver even an instant. I could tell he was waiting. Letting me prove what I said. I thought, 'he wants me to prove myself.'

I couldn't keep the excitement from my tone, even while I tried to speak to him calmly. I was still sporting a hardon that wouldn't quit, and suddenly realized that I was sitting upright nude before him, and my penis was like a sword standing up between us. Casually, I tried to cover myself with the hem of the comforter as I slipped backwards off the bed, and turned to step towards the table where I had laid out our borrowed clothing. I looked back, and saw him following my every movement.

"Hmmh, I guess we had better get dressed if we're going to get to breakfast," I said, feeling a bit embarrassed as I stood completely naked before him, self-consciously holding my stiff penis up tight against my belly. I was half turned away from him as I walked to the table, but I saw that he noticed my massive tool. "I uhh… I have to pee, bad," I said as I awkwardly hobbled in the chill air to the table. I started grabbing up clothes, and tossed over the items that the old woman had given me for him. He caught them deftly, and laid them out piece by piece on the fluid surface of the thick comforter, looking rather astonished.

I doubt if I have ever seen such a lovely sight – one so sweet with a boy's innocence. There he sat straight-backed upon the bed, with the comforter forming a soft-white pool of luxuriance around him. His nightgown flowed down from his narrow shoulders, just hinting at the little boy inside it's soft folds. His delicate wrists and little hands, with his fingers so small and straight and smooth, emerged from the elastic, ruffled bands of the nightgown sleeves, belying all the travails that this boy had lived through – he looked positively angelic, almost girlish in that too-frilly nightgown – but in a boyish, very-much-needing-to-be-washed sort of way! His neck was slender – too slim to carry the burdens of his life. In the light of the day – this day that I had looked forward to so much last night – I saw that his complexion wasn't just pale from hunger or exhaustion – his skin tone was literally porcelain white, so fine and pure that he almost looked like a little doll sitting there, with his red lips pursed so thoughtfully and his big eyes

There was no underwear for me, so I started to step into the long white pants the woman had given me. They looked to be just the right size, although my burgeoning, erect appendage made it a tight fit at the moment. I buttoned the flap over it carefully, just covering the base of my tender glans. It peeked up over the edge of the waistband, so I gingerly nudged it to the side, inside the fabric. I also had a buttoned shirt and socks, both white just like the pants, and blue leather sandals. For Jasio she had selected what looked like a quaint little sailor suit. White with light-blue pin-striping, and gold piping around the overlarge navy-blue collar of the tunic, and on the wide sleeve cuffs. The pants were of the same fabric, and the same mid-shipman striping, perhaps a bit too short, probably falling about midway up his thighs. There were underwear too, and socks. Both white. Long, long socks sporting that same dark blue cuff with gold piping. To finish it all, she had given him the same type of blue leather sandals that I had. His outfit even had a little sailor cap with the gold piping and a blue ribbon around it. I wondered how Jasio would feel about wearing it all – it was no doubt unlike anything he was used to.

"Jasio, it's about time I really introduced myself to you," I said as I donned the shirt. "My name is Piotr Ostoja, and I'm fro…" I looked over at him just then and froze. He couldn't have been listening to me, because he sat as if transfixed, staring at the blouse of the sailor suit. He had lain it out atop the comforter, and held the hem in the fingers of both hands. His chest seemed to heave, as if he were about to burst into tears, and he looked just so unutterably lost.

I rushed to the bedside and sat down beside him. "What's the matter, sweetie?" I hesitantly reached out with one hand and placed my fingers beneath his chin, and gently lifted his face to me. He looked bewildered, questioning. There was a moistness in his eyes. They glistened with whatever was bothering him.

"You don't have to wear these, Jasio, if that's what's bothering you. I could ask the old woman for something else, or we could wait till your other clothes are washed."

"No." he answered immediately and emphatically, quickly gathering the blouse into his hands possessively, but he looked down at it quizzically. "I like them… very much," he said then, shaking his head as if bothered by something.

His first words to me. The first words I had heard from him not in anger, at least. He had such a beautiful voice! Thin, light and soft. 'I like them very much' – the words echoed for a moment in my head. A boy's voice – whether soft and velveteen like Jasio's, or even bold and brash, has the capacity to enthrall me, to render me thoughtless and speechless. It's a boylover's affliction… or blessing. Tomek used to tell all of us boys to call out in the night, using our voices like wind sprites. "Don't worry," he would assure us, "no Nazi will ever recognize your signals. Only those who love you, will hear."

I heard Jasio. I listened. I strained to hear the meaning captured in his voice.

"It's not… there's nothing wrong with them," he continued even more softly, as he reached to pull all the other items into his lap. The shorts, the undies, the socks and sandals. Even the cap. He held it up off the comforter and fingered the thin blue ribbon band, following it around the circumference to the crenellated ends where they dangled off the narrow brim. "It's just that I've never had anything as nice as this, but… it seems like I can remember…"

He turned his head up to me in consternation and said, "did you ever have a moment when you felt like you were reliving something? Like you had done it before, but you know it never could have happened?" He looked at me under lowered brow, as if unsure about speaking with me so directly. Then he looked back down at the clothing.

"Yes, many times," I answered, watching as he touched each item in turn, lifting it, turning, folding, feeling.

He must have decided that it was ok to talk with me, for he once again looked up at me, this time more directly, and said, "Well, it's like I can remember this moment – you tossing me the clothes… or at least a man… not you, really. The man was talking to me… handing me some clean clothes to wear… and I called him…"

He stopped in mid-sentence, unable to continue as his lower lip trembled. I watched as a single tear trickled down from the corner of one eye, falling slowly, leaving a wavering wet trail down alongside his nose.

"What did you call him, Jasio?" I asked softly, urging him on.

"Tato."

The man he called his Daddy. "Perhaps… it really did…" I started to say, feeling like I just couldn't let the void of silence fill only with his sad memories.

"But I didn't… I never had a father," he interrupted. It was almost a question to me, the way he said it. The way he looked at me so beseechingly, it was indeed a question.

I had no answer.

I reached up and gently wiped away the straggling tear with the back of my finger, and let it linger there for a moment, caressing his cheek.

He looked straight at me. I met his gaze with tears forming in the corners of my eyes too, feeling so sad for him. I just wished I weren't so helpless. What do you tell a boy who's never known his own father?

Finally I simply stated the only fact I could come up with. "You did have a father. I bet he was a wonderful man, too. And your mom. You've… you've never heard about them?"

He dropped his gaze. For the longest time, he just fingered the fabrics in his hands, perhaps looking beyond them, or deeper into them, still probing his memories.

With the most expressive, deflating sigh I think I have ever heard, he finally said simply, "No."

I was sitting on the edge of the bed, half-facing him, so I just extended my arm around his shoulders and gave him a gentle hug. "Well, I am not your father, Misiu. I'm just Piotrek. You and me kind of… ran into each other last night." I bent my head down to his level and gave a side way's look and a tentative smile. His eyes darted to mine and he granted me a little lift at the corners of his lips too. "Oh, you remember last night, do you?"

"Yes. You were… nice to take care of me."

"Jasio, like I said, I'm not your father, but I want to at least be your friend. Hey, it's the least I can do after smashing into your…"

"It was my fault. I tried to get in front of your car," he interrupted me, his voice now nasal with the tears. He dragged his eyes lower, looking down at the clothes, the bed – or nothing.

I sighed, still hunching down, wanting so much to comfort him in some way. "Things got that bad for you, huh?"

"Yes." he said, almost inaudibly.

"How… how long… has it been like this, Jasio?"

"Forever. I'v…," his voice choked, and he gave a little twist of his neck, as if he were trying to clear that knot of pain that had suddenly welled up into his throat. "I've always tried to work, to make things, but… it was never any good. I don't know what's wrong with me, why nobody wants me, why I have to beg just to…"

The tears started flowing then, and I placed my arm around him again, just holding him still like that for a moment while he cried – trying to come up with the right words. Something, anything to let him know that there could be a little hope in his life. That it didn't have to stay like this.

The silence in the cabin was deafening. Only his sniffles to disturb the morning bright. It just wasn't right. I knew I had to make things right.

"You know what, Jasio?" I muttered quietly, "I'm not any kind of miracle worker, but things are going to be different in your life now." I kind of rocked him gently closer into my side, and then we just lolled there for a moment as I squeezed him tightly. "I won't… I won't let you down, Misiu. Ok?"

Again I bent to try to get him to meet my gaze again.

He wiped the tears away with the back of both his hands and sniffled and swiped them under his nose too. I took the tail of my shirt and dried those wet stains from his cheek.

"Ok, little guy. Give me a chance? Even though you don't know me very well yet, let me have a chance, ok?"

He breathed in haltingly, but deeply, and then lifted his head again. He raised his eyebrows briefly and pursed his lips. The poor boy's eyes were clouded and pinched with the tears.

It was answer enough.

"Good, then. I guess we really had better get going. You're going to look like a little Prince in this outfit."

He was sitting there all slump-shouldered and despondent, but I repositioned in front of him. "Here," I said," let's get your nightie off."

He was such a trooper! Immediately he straightened right up and lifted his arms as I started raising the hem of the nightgown up. We got it off, and I laid it neatly at the foot of the bed. Then he sat there on his heels, his hands on his thighs, as I picked the middy blouse up. He looked at me again with a kind of wonder. This boy wasn't used to anybody helping him. "You'll see," I said jauntily, "we'll have you dressed and stuffing our faces with good food in just a minute." He had no idea about the kind of pampering I intended to give him!

The old woman had judged his size just right too. How she did that with one quick glance at him in the back seat of our car, I don't know, but the outfit was perfect for his frail frame.

Looking at his naked body as he knelt before me, I could see that he had indeed been forced out into the world. He still retained a bit of his summer tan – his torso was darker than this pelvic area, and his arms and lower legs were darker still, although still quite pale compared to mine. He was so sleek – all soft but straight lines to his form, with hardly any swell at his hips.

"Haha," I chuckled, "now I'm not so embarrassed. You have a little morning stiffie too!" I pointed down at the gorgeous and surprisingly long stalk of his penis that was rising like a little pickle from between his tightly closed legs. His balls were hidden along with the bottom of the shaft, but his partially covered pinkish glans, and half of the hardened prick was pointing right back at me.

He looked down sheepishly and gave a weak little laugh, almost begrudgingly.

"Oops! He winked at me!" His tiny pee slit did look a lot like a little cyclopsian eye as his body moved.

"He… it did not!" he protested and giggled softly, "but I do have to go pee real bad."

"Ooohhh okay," I gave in. "Me too. Let's just get you dressed before we both pee right here."

He raised his arms again as I gathered up the blouse and positioned it over his head. I practically devoured the sight of his up stretched form. Then when he wriggled his hands through the sleeve openings his whole lithe body wiggled! Including his little stalk! I was just aghast at his boyish perfection. He should have been sculpted like that. 'Boy Rising.' 'Body Shimmering.'

All too soon for me, I had to slip his head through the neck opening, then let the fabric drop down to cover his little frame. The blouse fit just right, loose enough to allow him to move about freely, but showing off his little boy's figure.

His body was just so thin. I couldn't decide if that was a healthy thinness – a leanness from all his work outdoors – or perhaps just a natural delicacy of his physique, or sadly – what if it was more from the neglect that he had endured for so many years? In the light of day, he did look pallid, and still very unwashed, but not really sickly or even suffering from any kind of severe malnutrition.

I needed more time with him to find out the truth. And more time still to do right by him. To provide him with whatever he needed medically or nutritionally.

Just another of those things I had to ponder over – how to affect the change in his life, when I was perforce not going to be a part of it?

Jasio's musculature was subtle, hiding beneath his flesh, not even rounding out the sharp curves of his delicately jutting bones. He had graceful, almost effeminate lines. I sat there before him in more than admiration – he was like some kind of… prototypical model of BOY. The mold, in which others might find their own perfect manifestations… and yet so much more than a mere model.

He was Jasio. My God, I was in love with this boy already. From his physical beauty to the depth that I sensed in his spirit and intellect, to his eccentric ways, to his ingenuity – and I had to admit – to his need of me.

I was in love!

My hands started trembling as I smoothed the shirt over his chest and then tugged it down over his tummy. He noticed, because he said so softly then, "What's the matter with you, Par… Piotrek? Are you… are you… afraid too?"

The lilt in his voice as he asked it, the way he kind of cocked his head and looked up at me questioningly, showed his genuine concern. I breathed out slowly, calming myself, then tried to smile.

"Afraid?" I answered him. "No… I'm…"

What could I tell him? Would that I could just tell him that it was love I felt.

Instead, I cupped my hands around his shoulders and pulled him to me. "Happy, Jasio. It's 'happy' that I am, that you and I have finally met."

He let me hold him there briefly, his cheek resting so softly against my chest. Then I let him sit back on his heels again. He lowered his eyes shyly, but I could see the gladness that transformed his every feature – from the wan smile that just barely turned up the corners of his lips, to the teeniest little fold of flesh at the corners of his eyes.

He was happy too. Pleased with the blouse. I could see it in the way he flattened his hand across the fabric and smoothed it across his tummy, then he felt along the edges of the broad black lapel, straining his head down to look at it.

He reminded me of a kitten self-contentedly grooming himself, purring away in satisfaction. If Jasio could have purred he would have. Gone were the sniffles. Gone permanently, I wished.

"You do indeed look great in that," I said, wanting to validate what I could see he was thinking. "It'll even be better when we get the whole suit on. Here." I picked up the undies.

They were of a soft, thin cotton weave – little short pants that looked even shorter than the pants for the sailor outfit. My penis surged with the mere thought of seeing him in them. "Let's get these on first – then the sailor shorts, ok?"

As I opened the little panties out and held them ready for him to insert his feet, Jasio obligingly rocked back onto his bottom. His legs splayed open a bit as he extended them out, his knees up. It was like looking down infinitely long and sleek columns of boyflesh, from his knees all the way down to where his legs met – where I longed to dwell. I stared in wide-eyed and mute fascination as his finger-long stiffie wobbled free, and his ballsac hung low and loose, just released from the humid confines between his legs. The oval orbs within hung just as low, seeming to drag down his scrotum. The right testicle hung down a bit longer. It seemed larger too, but I could have easily cupped both within the pads of my three middle fingers., hefting them effortlessly. The thin, raised and crenellated ridge of his perineum trailed out from beneath his scrotum. I followed it hypnotically to where it dipped between the orbs of his cheeks, and magically out of sight into his virgin anus. No man had ever dipped his penis in there. It was just as smooth and pink as it must have been when he came from the womb. The very slightest darkening of the coloring deep within the funneling folds made me squirm, just imagining inserting my own manhood there.

Guiltily, I looked up and saw that he was waiting patiently. His brow peaked in curiosity at my gaze. "Uh… sorry. You've… you're such a…," I stuttered in confusion, almost blurting out the truth, that he was such a pretty boy! "You're such a slim little boy, Jasio, but you have a… big one," I blushed, and nodded down between his legs.

"It is?" he asked softly.

"Yeah, especially hard like that."

And it was big. He was hung. He was still a little boy, and his penis was still a little boy's penis, but this boy was going to be like me someday, carrying a massive weapon between his legs, if his still hairless appendage was any indication. It was as long as my middle finger, and thicker. With a slight upward curve, that let me see the underside of his glans where it joined with his foreskin. The hood was stretched tightly around the corona of the glans now, but still not slipping down onto the shaft freely. Tiny veins zigged underneath the pale surface, engorged just like his boyhood. If I added just the lightest touch of my finger to the throbbing of his heartbeat, I knew his taut foreskin would slip back instantly and his glistening wet glans would be bared totally. The surface of his dickhead looked raw, almost angry, swollen. I wouldn't dare to touch it now.

Not now. Would I ever?

"I don't know why it gets like that sometimes," he said, startling me out of my penis-induced trance. "I've seen…"

He stopped suddenly and turned his head away, as if in shame.

"It's ok, Misiu," I hastened to tell him. "I get hard all the time."

"Why does it happen like that?" he returned his gaze back to me. It was astonishing! It was if he had suddenly transformed – at one moment hesitant, afraid, feeling shamed – and in one instant later, just because of my reassurance, he was wide-eyed again, mouth open, eager, listening, wanting to hear what I had to say about this burning question.

I wondered, was every question of such import to him? And was that a reflection of his mind? Or of the cruelty with which all his questions had been met in the past?

I felt my own face growing red. I was found out. Uncovered. Revealed.

I wouldn't lie to him, though. Not to Jasio, even if I were capable of hiding the truth to any other boy.

"I guess there are a couple of reasons we get hard, Jasio," I said, my voice growing hoarse against my will.

"Oh?" he said lightly, expectantly.

"Yeah. Well, we get hard in the mornings sometimes because we have to pee. I don't know, pressure inside of us, or something – all that pee just needing to get out – makes it hard, I guess" I answered lamely, as I slipped the undies over his feet and started sliding them along his calves. "And then, sometimes, well, we get hard because of… great emotion. Like when we see someone who's… exciting to us, like someone we like, or…"

I stopped, concentrating all my feeble mental efforts on getting the undies up along his thighs. I felt stupid. Hah. Stupid Johnny, they called him. At least he asked the questions. I couldn't even answer them without becoming flustered.

"Hmmmh, how about you stand up now, and we'll get these all the way up. Then we can get your pants on. Dang, we're going to be late, and the old wom…"

"Leon gets hard like that," he mused, seemingly oblivious to my consternation. My ears pricked up at that! He said it so matter-of-factly. I felt something totally different – a very immediate burning jolt of anger, jealousy, dismay. That he might have been with that bastard Leon Koczurba. No. It wasn't anger aimed at Jasio. But I knew as certainly as any truth in the world that that man Leon wasn't worthy of any kind of intimacy with Jasio.

Jasio didn't notice my sudden flush. He just stood, and wiggled his hips back and forth as I slid the panties up and started buttoning them. I don't think he noticed my eyes either, fixated on his half-hooded glans, bobbing just centimeters from my face. His dick protruded lewdly between the two flaps. I fumbled with the top button, growing wide-eyed, wanting to lean in and kiss him, and claim this boy for me – not for that foul Koczurba..

He merely continued with his story. "He gets drunk, gets hard and makes me… lick it."

I forced myself to just keep trying to button him. Damn! What had that monster done to my boy? Forced him into sex? Had Leon touched this treasure? Or any other part of my boy?

"Horses don't do that. And cows. I've seen dogs lick their cocks too. Leon says that's all I'm good for, sucking him. Then he fucks Ania…," Jasio continued on, but my ears were suddenly ringing. At that moment I wanted to either sigh in relief – that that was the extent of what Jasio had been forced to do – or jump immediately into my car, head straight down the road to the Collective, and strangle Committee Chairman Koczurba.

"I've seen lots of the animals fuck," was the next thing I heard Jasio say. The boy was a thinker. He seemed to analyze things. Notice things.

"But none of them suck each other, like Leon makes me do. Leon doesn't like me, so I don't see why he would get hard."

"Well, he… he likes…," I tried to explain, but choked on the thought of Leon feeling anything for Jasio. "Some men like the way you… the way boys look, and that can make us hard too, so…" The dinging of a bell suddenly rang out from the direction of the inn. I shook my head, almost glad to be interrupted like that. "Uhoh," I said, "She's calling us to breakfast. We'd better hurry, Misiu."

I had the undies almost buttoned, but his penis still pointed out so tantalizingly, tilting up at an angle from his pubis. With a feather light touch I placed just the pad of my index finger on the smooth, swollen ridge of his urethra, and pushed his shaft up, then carefully tucked it inside one flap, and buttoned him all the way up over the hardness within. He wriggled and giggled to the sensations.

Good that the old woman was hurrying us, because I was about to cream in my pants. Seeing him standing there, his midriff right in front of my eyes, clad in only a sailor shirt and see-through undies, was a bit too much! The image of him kneeling between Leon's legs haunted me too, with a perverse kind of fascination as I thought of his beautiful red lips opening, his mouth lowering to the man's dickhead.

I took a deep breath, and shook my head, then grabbed up the pants, and fumbled my hands about wildly, trying to turn them around the right way. Jasio giggled again, so I have to admit I clowned it up a bit more, and made him trip when he tried to step into them. He came bouncing down in a boy-bundle, and I pushed him over flat and started man-handling the pants up his legs. I got them over his bottom and buttoned in a matter of seconds, then, both of us laughing uproariously now, I threw one sock at his face, and attacked one foot with the other. He just screamed with laughter, but bent to try to get his sock on faster. We had a race, and I finished with a flourish, and a yell of triumph, then grabbed up the sandals.

"Are we going to make it?" he finished pulling up his sock then held his hands out for one of the sandals.

"Oh yeah, Piotrek never misses a meal." I answered too quickly, and realized my mistake even as I saw him deflate, just like a balloon whose ribbon had just been untied – a slow drawing in upon himself, shoulders collapsing, head drooping.

"Hey," I nudged him with one of the sandals. "I guess you don't need any reminders that you've missed a few meals back there. You know, we can't do anything about that, but… but look, I think we can fix it so that won't happen anymore. I'm not going to let you down, Jasio."

He took the sandal, but just kind of sat there, arms lax, deep in some thought. I went ahead and put the sandal on that I was holding. He let me slip it on his foot and latch the leather straps over his ankle. He raised his head then and looked at me blankly, one corner of his mouth hitched up in a kind of resignation. He held out the other sandal to me, and I took it and started slipping it on.

We were pretty much back where we started. Me with a bunch of promises to keep now. Him with no real reason to trust me, but with little choice to do anything else.

"We'll make it ok, Jasio," was all I could think of to say. With both sandals on, that left only the cap. I picked it up and held it out above his head hopefully. "Alright?" I asked, once again craning my head down, trying to get on his level to meet his eyes.

"Alright," he finally acquiesced, not looking all that confident.

"Good, now to crown my prince… I place this fine cap upon your head," I said with mock solemnity as I raised the cap directly above his head and then slowly lowered it until it fit in place. The tails of the ribbon dangled perfectly off to his left side.

"Oh, you look grande," I said as I held out one hand to help him up. I backed off the bed myself and stood up before him. "Does the Admiral of the Fleet care to partake of breakfast?"

He accepted the proffer of my hand with a true grace, as if he were indeed a prince… or admiral… indeed, like the Captain of my heart. As if arising in state before a crowd of admirers, Jasio leaned into my hand, letting me pull him up. He then stepped right across the mattress and down comforter to the edge of the bed, and hopped down with a flourish of his free hand.

I released his hand and stood back to behold him. A wave of dizziness suddenly swept over me – it was one of those moments he had asked me about earlier. Somehow, someway, I had seen this boy, dressed like this, before! He was the very essence of elegance, resplendent in his uniform – it was as if the hands that had sewn and crafted these garments, and the hands that had selected them, had been guided by a sure knowledge that this boy should be thus adorned. That this was his due.

Suddenly I remembered seeing some Nazi propaganda one time, back in the war, accusing the Russians of being brutal murderers. I had laughed then, when I saw it. Until they flashed up a picture of the Tsarevich Alexander, the little sickly son of the Tsar. He was dressed in just such a sailor suit as my Jasio was now, the very picture of boyish innocence, belying his sad reality.

I vowed to make this a reality for Jasio. This suit was more than just a pretty adornment for a pretty boy. It was like a statement about the world that once was. The world that should be, right now, for this boy.

Jasio broke me from my thoughts. "I wish I could wear these…," he started to say, then stopped. He was looking down at himself, stretching the hem of the middy blouse down straight with both his hands.

"What do you wish, Misiu?"

"Oh, nothing," he shook his head, then looked up at me with a very wistful, far-away gaze. Then he dropped his gaze back down to his outfit, and smoothed the blouse out again.

"Something to do with this suit?" I asked.

"Yeah. I kind of wish I could wear it back to… when you take me back to the collective, and they could see me like…" He stopped again, then waved one hand dismissively. "We better go," he said as he started to turn away towards the door.

"Uhh… yeah… you're right," I said, dumbfounded, but aware that he had pretty much shared my own thoughts. This was the way he should have been seen by all those back where they had mistreated him for years. If the evidence of his intellect and his spirit hadn't done it, then just the sight of him like this had to force his people to see Jasio for who he was. A boy to be reckoned with. A boy to be honored. A boy to just be treated with common decency and care. And love. I put one hand on his shoulder and started to follow him past the bed.

He pointed over near the table, where my sandals and socks were sitting on the floor. "Don't you think you had better get your so…"

He stopped in mid-sentence, staring at the table-top, seeing his things laid out there for the first time. He shrugged out from under my hand and he walked quickly to the very edge of the table. That cut me to the core, and I swear the bottom dropped out of my belly. That I should hurt him in any way, that he should think less of me for this – I just couldn't bear it.

"My coat?" he suddenly turned and looked up at me, his brow furrowed and his eyes so questioning – almost wounded and accusing.

"Oh! Oh Jasio, I hope you don't mind," I rushed to explain. "When the old woman said she would wash our old clothes, I thought why not your coat too. So I…"

He turned back abruptly. Slowly he ran his fingertips across the tops of the things resting there, as if each one was precious to him. He picked up the screw driver handle, seeming to examine it, weighing it, angling it this way and that. Then he turned his head almost in slow motion to look up at me, his eyes still showing that same wonderment, disbelief, questioning – I didn't know what to call it. At least there was no more anger written there. No longer any resentment.

I breathed again. And waited, silently.

He looked back at the screw driver, and then placed it back upon the table top, lining it up with the other items even more precisely than I had done. Next he picked up and flipped a two-złoty coin over and over in his hands, lost in some thought. Again, he put it back down exactly where I had placed it earlier.

Surveying his entire collection of parts, he reached for the notched stick and ran one thumb over the notches slowly, almost caressing them.

I just stood there silently, not daring to interrupt him.

Ancient peoples have since time immemorial gathered together totems, made little bundles of special things that carried meaning for them, that imparted some sense of power or luck or guidance. I was sure that all these odd and ends meant just exactly that to Jasio. All I could hope for, as I stood there helplessly, was that I hadn't somehow tainted them… just by my simple act of touching them, handling them. Or worse – even by seeing them.

Finally, he turned to me once again. The look in his eyes had softened a bit. "You understood," he stated, and looked me right in my eyes so steadily.

I gasped for a breath. His words hit me like a hammer. I had judged this boy right in this matter at least. And now I knew that I had passed some kind of unwritten test. One that he had not even set for me, but one that he certainly recognized.

"Yes," my voice grated, as I attempted to acknowledge his grant of acceptance for me. "I think I do understand that all this things are important to you, Jasio. Useful things. Things you have kept and worked with for a long time. Perhaps sometime you'll tell me about them. Like the wrench, with the wire in the handle. Or that notched stick."

He looked back down at the assortment, and replaced the notched stick where it had been.

"You don't think I'm… stupid? For keeping all these things?" he asked, keeping his head down.

I reached out and placed my left hand upon his still crusty and caked hair, and kind of ruffled it a bit. Thank goodness he didn't brush it away, or step away. "Remember Jasio, I've seen your cart. I rode on it. When I see all these things here, I don't see 'stupid'. I see… maybe… 'genius'. Or 'visionary.' Perhaps that's what you are. So. How about it, Einstein, ready to go eat?"

"Who's Einstein."

"Oh. Another little boy they used to call stupid. He ended up changing the whole world. I can tell you all about him later on, if you wish."

'Ok." he said as he finally looked up and gave me another of his tentative smiles.

I bent to pick up my sandals and socks, then opened the door. Sunlight flooded into our cabin and I stepped out onto the porch, feeling the bite of the cold morning air, but there was no wind and it was just so invigorating – no need for a coat or jacket at all.

I sat down immediately and started pulling on my socks, sitting sideways, watching as Jasio slowly followed me out. He stood poised to take flight back into the cabin, it seemed, the way he held his hands up before his tummy, clasping them, squeezing them. He looked around at everything – the courtyard, the other cabins on both sides and the inn at the apex – then he looked beyond, and suddenly seemed visibly shaken. I glanced in the direction of his gaze, then back to his eyes – he leaned his head back, his eyes marching up the incline of the mountain-side that loomed so majestically across the way, it's slopes densely covered with tall brooding black spruce.

I suppose I had seen this kind of sight so many times, that it didn't dawn on me until now that Jasio might feel very small indeed here – vulnerable, dwarfed by the mountains – suddenly feeling himself out of time, out of place.

I tried to lighten things up a bit. "Hey, do you need to pee as bad as I do?"

"Ye… yeah," he mumbled distractedly, still looking up at the mountain side.

"Ok. You go on around the cabin. The inn-keeper said the latrine was out back there. I'll uh… I'll be back there in just a minute… let me… get these socks and shoes on first. Ok?"

"Sure," he said absently, as he stepped slowly down onto the cobbles of the courtyard.

I smiled watching him. He looked so cute as he slowly walked along the side of the cabin, keeping one hand on the wall as if leaning back upon it, against the pressure of the over-awing mountains. The sailor suit transformed him magically. He was no longer a little castaway boy, unwanted, uncared for. He looked more like a schoolboy, with just the narrow band of his sweet bare legs showing between the high socks and his short pants, walking out for the morning lessons. He looked very much wanted and cared for.

Then he disappeared around the corner, and suddenly I was bereft! I didn't want him out of my sight. For whatever precious moments were left to me, I just had to be with him.

I fumbled with the socks and sandals, and finally slapped them on, then jumped up and practically ran after him.

As I rounded the corner, already searching within the dark forest that bounded the back of the line of cabins, I had to draw up short, for he was standing right there, against the side of the cabin – huddled against it, his forehead down, leaning with his shoulder and arm set forlornly against the roughened log exterior. As soon as he saw me, he stepped towards me, for an instant looking like I had just saved him from some awful threat. Then he stopped and just stood there, arms dangling, looking dejected.

"Oh! I thought you…" I started to say, then saw how he was hunched so miserably there. "Why didn't you go on to the…"

He looked up at me, lips sealed, eye-brows sagging, looking ashamed about something.

I looked around. There were no wild boars or wolves to be seen anywhere, just the trees, the dark undergrowth, the beginning of a half-hidden trail leading into the dark forest – no doubt that's where the latrine was. No ferocious black bears guarding the trai…

Pawel used to accuse me of being dense sometimes. He said I was slow to catch on to the obvious. Otherwise, I was ok. I had to admit now that he was right, because I looked from the little boy standing so miserably before me back into the dark forest, and up at the mighty mountain side, and finally understood. Damn! Big brave Piotrek had sent a little boy off into the unknown, all alone!

Talk about stupid.

Well, I felt my ears burning as I blushed from embarrassment at my own stupidity. Seems in all these moments of admiring this boy, I had forgotten what it can be like to BE a boy.

Dang.

At least I hadn't forgotten how to be a man. "You know what?" I said to him then. I waited till he raised his eyes to look at me. He looked just on the verge of tears again. I pointed behind him, and up at the mountains, and said, "That forest is kind of scary. I don't know that I want to go walking about here alone. How about you and me stick together from now on?"

I held out my hand towards him, palm open. He looked at it – and I swear I saw the same wide-eyed wonder in his gaze as I saw when he looked up at the mountains just a moment ago – my outstretched hand was something new for him, something to be analyzed, a phenomenon – then he took a deep breath, looked back up at me, and seemed to make his decision right then and there. With barely a flutter of hesitancy in his fingers, he reached out and placed his palm across mine.

I caught my breath, in what must have been audible stutter, and then closed my fingers around his – our hands together.

"Lead the way, Admiral," I managed to say, before my throat choked with the feeling that we had finally connected. The circles of our lives had crossed. If only we could walk our paths together, just like this, from now on.

"Piotrek?" he looked up at me as we set off.

"Y… yeah, Misiu?" I managed to answer.

"I could… I could tell you about that wrench now. And the wire. You really want me to tell you?"

"Oh yes. Please tell me. Everything."

Chapter Five

I stepped out from my side of the latrine and did a double take, finally realizing that the placard over the open doorway said just 'Men.' Nothing about 'Women.' There was no 'Women' stall to be seen.

I turned about, looking for other buildings beyond the glade, peering deep into the stands of firs. Their lower branches were neatly culled – sheared either by man's design, or Nature's, making the forest here park-like. There was nothing to be seen beside this outhouse and the line of cabins we had come from.

The outhouse itself was enough to regain my attention. It was of such curious design. Built taller, larger on the right side – tall enough for a man. But the left side would only admit a child.

Certainly not a woman. Nor a girl.

'Men'

'Boys'

That's what the signs read.

Mystery seemed to pile upon mystery in this place. There had really been no time before now to even consider it all, but there was a story as yet untold here. The strange, beckoning symbols carved by both ancient and modern hand, upon the very rock face of the mountains. The old woman, and her uncanny ways. The clothing awaiting us, as if she expected our arrival, and as if she knew our sizes. The recurring theme of circle upon circle. Everywhere something small conjoined with something large. And now this surreal structure set in a forest glade. It was out of a fairy tale – a door for little people on the left. A door for the big ones on the right.

Boys.

Men.

Jasio had giggled excitedly when he saw it. What kid wouldn't rush to investigate a dwelling built for dwarves or elves – whatever little creatures that might inhabit our old fables? I wondered – even without the placards, wouldn't Jasio have gone left, and I to the right. How could it be otherwise in this tale that we had somehow entered? It was almost like we were now acting out the parts of some unknown script.

I looked around the glade. It was quiet. No wind, not even up above, in the treetops. Green sprigs of evenly clipped grass poked through brown, rusty mats of pine and fir needles, everywhere dappled in that golden hue of morning sunlight filtered through the weave of branches.

The latrine structure was of log, like the cabins, but this time built with the boles planted straight down into the ground, and rising up unevenly – higher on the right, much lower on the left. Big entry-way, roughly hewn frame, without a door, on the right. Small one, just as rustic, on the left.

Inside the appointments were anything but rustic and crude. Every surface was tiled in immaculate, gleaming white. There was no need for a light – whatever streamed in through the door or the high slit windows sufficed. It was built solidly. I couldn't even hear Jasio over on the other side. For a moment, that thought had made me panic. I had left him alone again! So I rushed to piss, straining to force the hot fluid up the rigid pole of my dick, leaning forward awkwardly. It splattered out upon the porcelain tile, yellow briefly staining the pure white in a furious stream. Immediately my penis had began to shrivel as the relief shuddered through my body.

I had hurried back outside to wait for my boy, suppressing the urge to call out to him. He hadn't known me yet for more than 12 hours. Perhaps I should at least let him relieve himself in private.

A rustle came from the 'Boys' entrance, and I whirled eagerly to greet Jasio, as if we had been separated for ages.

The stream of pee flew wildly from the tip of his penis as Jasio danced on tiptoe, hurrying to finish. He felt no need to sit over the hole. Other than the few bites of Piotr's sandwich last night, he hadn't had enough food in his system to even notice in way too long. It felt so good to relieve his bladder though. A bolt of electric intensity seemed to wrap itself around the tip of his dick and then rush up into his body, till he shivered and wiggled uncontrollably! Suddenly he was light-headed. Quickly he stiff-armed the wall, and stood there swaying, feeling dizzy. The last thing he wanted to do was fall down in here on this hard, cold tile. It was kind of scary in here, so quiet. He couldn't even hear Piotr over on the other side.

Swiveling on his wrist, still resting on his flattened hand against the wall, he let himself fall to the side till he could feel his back slap against the smooth, hard surface. He breathed too quickly, and the slow swirling in his head became a whirlwind threatening to topple him down bodily. With a little whimper of fear, sensing the walls starting to close in on him – just wanting to get outside again to wait for Piotr – he pushed with both of his hands back against the wall and lunged spastically forward through the door.

In a daze, he saw a man's bulk there, and for some reason that just made him instantly giddy. He was losing control, but didn't care! Piotr! Jasio tried to smile, to answer that ready and welcoming grin that he saw so swiftly fly to Piotr's lips as the man turned to him. Instead, the boy stumbled and started falling again.

It was the hunger. He knew it, even as he felt his knees buckling Two days with so little food and he always grew faint. It happened every time.

Ahhh! Something different this time though. Instead of the cold arms of Mother Earth, he fell into the enveloping warmth of Piotr's outstretched arms.

Piotr said something. Jasio heard it, even as he felt the warmth of the man's stomach cushion the side of his head. Strong hands slipped up under his armpits "Are you alright, Jasio?" came the deep tones again. And then, "Here, let me hold you for a moment…,"

And then was flying! Up… up… it seemed like Piotr was swinging him round and around in circles.

Jasio giggled, feeling lighter than a bird. It was just the hunger, he knew. This was all one of those light-headed visions he had when he got too hungry… imagine a man who would pick him up so easily, and hold him so tightly. Such a man must love him very much…

Jasio giggled again, at his own foolishness, and tried to concentrate.

On the Circles. Was it his mind swirling in circles? Or was it the man… was it Piotr?

Jasio strained to open wide his suddenly heavy lids and peered up beyond the man's concerned face to the circles. Why such concern?! Look up, Piotr! Look up at the circles! Circles of trees. A circle up there in that crystalline blue sky. Circles joining. Always joining. Coming together.

Was that it? Fly in circles! Maybe Piotr would fly with him. They could fly together!

"I'll hold you until you feel alright, Jasio," he heard the concern in the man's voice too, and felt the soothing warmth of the man's hand on his brow. Hadn't he said something like that before?

When was that? What had he said, back in the cabin? "I won't… I won't let you down, Misiu. Ok? I'm not any kind of miracle worker, but things are going to be different in your life now. I'm happy, Jasio. It's happy that I am, that you and I have finally met."

Happy? The man was happy? To be with Jasio…

What else had he said? "And then, sometimes, well, we get hard because of… great emotion. Like when we see someone who's… exciting to us, someone we like…"

Someone to hold him, and never let him go. Someone who wanted him. Who liked him! Even while they flew the circles. While they became the circles. That's what they would do! Together forever! If Piotr meant what he said, then… circles went on forever. And these joined. One connecting with the other.

Of course… it never happened that way in this life. But… what if… what if this were AFTER life? It all changed when the man's car hit him. What if…?

The swirling circles in his mind all came to a sobering end at once, and Jasio opened his eyes fully to stare up into those of the man who held him so tight. It didn't seem that he was dead. This all seemed very real, but how could it be?

He shivered.

"You're really here… aren't you?" Jasio heard himself asking. His voice sounded weak, and unbelieving, even to himself.

"Ooh, you're cold," Piotr said. "Let me get you all warm, little boy." And Jasio felt his body being folded into the man's chest, his limbs gathered in and wrapped in the man's body. "But, yeah," Piotr continued, "I'm really here, and now you seem to be back too." Piotr chuckled. "I think you fainted, Jasio. Feeling better now?"

"Yes. If…"

Piotr waited, just watching as the boy lifted his head a bit, and seemed to search the man's face with those big eyes of his.

"If what?"

"If all this is for real."

"Oh, it's all for real, alright. You seemed to kind of… black out there for a minute. What were you smiling about?"

"I just got dizzy, I guess. You caught me." It was almost a question, as if Jasio still didn't quite believe it.

"Ahh!" Piotr said dismissively, pursing his lips. "I'm just glad I was there. Now, do you fell like you can stand up? Or should I carry you to breakfast?"

"I think… I think I can stand up now," Jasio tried to rise, pushing out gingerly, softly, with his arms, untangling them like a fledgling bird's wings, where they rested against the man's chest. He seemed to test his own muscles as Piotr rolled him out of his arms and stood him up.

"Oh!" the man exclaimed. "Your pants are still unbuttoned and your siusiak is getting cold too, I'm afraid. Let me do the honors," he chuckled as he quickly knelt before the boy and grasped the flaps. Jasio still felt weak, but his head was perfectly clear now, and he looked down at the kneeling form of the man before him in even more of a disbelieving daze than before. If not a dream, then what kind of world was this, where a man of such power and strength would kneel down before him, and willingly take such care of him?! Once again – just like in the cabin, with the clothes – he glimpsed something in this moment, as if he had lived it before. A different place, a different time, but once before – long ago – some man had knelt before Jasio. He could feel the tug of the man's big hands upon the fabric of his pants, felt his own slight body being jostled forcefully, submitting to the man's strength… but somehow feeling like it was his due, like he – Jasio… Stupid Jasio – no! He had never been called Stupid Jasio back then! He had been loved! The man had cared! Just like… this man?

Jasio felt his penis filling then, even as he watched and felt Piotr's fingers on it, once again lifting it, folding it upright against his own flesh, and covering it with the soft fabric of his new underwear. It was like his little dick felt it too – the goodness of the man's touch, the rightness of it – the caring in it – and some kind of wanting… so many times he had felt that wanting.

Jasio felt like crying all of a sudden, but he didn't understand exactly why. Not tears of sadness! For once he couldn't even identify his own feelings. This was like nothing in his experience before. Or… was it the remembering? Or just wishing that these memories were somehow true? Or fear that if they were true, could this moment end, as a dream, and be nothing more than fuel for even more hazy remembrances? Or should he really cry because of Piotr? Because of the man's touch? There was a tightness enveloping him – he felt his balls pulling up tightly beneath his hardening prick, felt the tightening of the skin around his shaft – felt the man's hand tenderly brushing up against it, wrapping it too in his warmth. Why did it strain up and out, against the man's hand, not resisting, but more of that… wanting…

Jasio closed his eyes, and started to lean forward, now wanting to force his body against Piotr's hand, wanting that tightness he felt down there to never end, wanting Piotr to grasp him there again. It had felt so good last night in the car. For once just for him! Knowing what it was like to be given that gift. Knowing that Piotr too wanted the giving…

Clang – clang! Clang – Clang!

The breakfast bell rang out distantly, coming from the direction of the cabins. It seemed far away compared to before, but still the sound carried forebodingly in the morning stillness. Jasio gasped and tensed and stared down at Piotr in wide-eyed alarm.

Clang-clang. Clang-clang!

The old woman rang the breakfast bell more furiously this time. In the dank forest, where the sun was rising but still struggling to penetrate around the common latrine, every sound was dampened in the thick carpet of spruce needles and the moss growing like dark green fur up along the tall trunks, but we could hear her impatience.

"Oh! We're going to be late!" I exclaimed as I forced my eyes away from the still hard little lump rising up beneath the fabric of Jasio's britches. and looked up at him. He looked so alarmed! Almost frightened, as if he were about to cry. Such a lot for a little boy to take in, all these new surroundings, old women waking him up so loudly, and now that raucous, angry banging of the breakfast bell. No wonder he would feel a bit frightened. I tickled his bare midriff with my breath, and at least got a surprised little glimmer of a smile in return. The bell had caught me on my knees, face to face with his cute little belly button! Not that I had noticed it – my attentions had zeroed in on the blue-glow of his iridescent glans, where it peeked from above its encircling foreskin. As his penis lengthened and hardened, seemingly responding to my touch, I watched entranced as one last drop of his pee squeezed out from his urethra to pearl up, poised to spill upon my willing fingers. Instead, as I pushed his shaft back against his pubis, the droplet disappeared in instant absorption into the fabric of Jasio's undershorts.

He held his tunic scrunched up with both hands, baring his tummy so I could get at the buttons of his pants and undies. In the chill stillness, I literally felt the heat emanating from his flesh – his stomach was molded to the outline of his muscles – I could have joined my hands around his waist, he was so slim and trim.

Until that clanging bell jolted me back to reality, I was lost in a moment of wonderment – here I was kneeling before this stripling of a boy. Just moments ago he had literally fallen into my arms and I had held him till his wave of dizziness had swept away. Now it was I, with all my strength, all my bulk, subordinate to Him – where else would I want to be? What more suitable pose for a boylover?

With his little penis safely tucked away, I fumbled hurriedly with the last of the buttons, and jumped up laughing and held out my hand. It seemed contagious, because for just a second he looked at me with such wide eyes, wondering, questioning – I could swear there were tears there at the corners of his eyes from his fright – then all of a sudden he nodded his assent, grabbed my outstretched hand, and we started off running, the sound of our footsteps muffled in the leaf-strewn trail, but our giggling almost drowning the old woman's bell.

She stopped hammering away at it just as we ran out from between the cabins into the courtyard and slowed to a walk, so we could straighten our clothes. She was standing right there on the screened-in porch, and glared at us sternly.

"We really do apologize, babciu," I called out through my rasping breath. I wasn't used to the thin air, and that short run had winded me surprisingly fast. Jasio had collapsed into my arms earlier, but now he hardly seemed affected at all. He did stop giggling quickly enough and kind of stepped behind me a bit, suddenly grasping my hand with both of his, and half-shielding his body from the woman's gaze.

"I expected you to be late, Communist," she answered dismissively. There was no anger in her voice, though. That, along with everything she had said and done since we met last night told me a lot. This old woman was cantankerous, but she had a soft heart.

I started up the steps and kind of gently tried to pull Jasio out from behind me. He held back just the same.

"You haven't met my friend Jasio, have you?" I motioned across my body towards my shadow.

"No, I haven't, but I can see by the stains on your knees that you couldn't wait for breakfast before servicing him. Let me see this boy you kneel to," the old woman gruffed like an old billy goat.

I almost stopped in my tracks, astonished at her comment. Guiltily, feeling a blush coloring my suddenly hot cheeks, but not at all sure exactly why, I looked down at my trousers. There were indeed two wet and dirty stains soiling the white fabric. Surely she could not have meant what she seemed to be implying! I gazed back up at her, wondering – what could she mean? What would an old woman know of such things?

There was something of a grimace on her face that I was sure might pass for a smile if I knew her a bit better. Had she been joking?

I felt a sudden surge of… I guess, pride! Reflected glory, for sure. For attached to my arm as he was, Jasio adorned me. He was just gorgeous in his sailor suit, even with his straggling hair still unwashed and uncombed. I beamed down at him, then back up to the old woman.

She looked stunned – he mouth hanging open.

She saw it too, I thought, smugly. "Doesn't he look just perfect in your outfi…" I started to comment, but she suddenly staggered back, catching herself against the wall, and just stared at Jasio.

"Are you… are you alright, babciu?" I said, reaching out to her. "Here, Jasio, let's help her to the chair."

The boy forgot his shyness, and jumped forward, letting my hand go, so he could grasp the old woman's left arm, even as I took her right, cupping her elbow in my palm and easing her back.

Still she stared slack-jawed at Jasio, even as he stood right there before her, letting her eyes roam across his face, studying him.

Her breath was coming in heaving gasps, lifting her chest.

"Do you think you'll be…"

She abruptly shook off my hand and waved me to silence.

"What's your name, boy?" she peered at him, but her voice now belied the fierceness of her gaze. She now sounded so tender and soothing.

It worked like magic with Jasio, and he smiled at her. "Jasio, they ca…"

"No. What's your real name?"

"That's… all I've ever been called, babciu," Jasio shrugged his shoulders. His brow knit warily.

"Your last name?"

He dipped his head, and shrugged again. "I don't have a family. I just stay wi…"

"With the farmers of Jodłówka," she interrupted, speaking slowly, softly now, here eyes narrowed, like she was seeing something beyond the boy's face.

"Your name is Jan," she continued. Stating it, not asking. Jasio pursed his brow again and looked up to me, puzzled.

"Well… Jasio… Jan. Yes, it makes sense that that would be your given name, Jasio." I nodded to him.

"It's Jan," the old woman insisted.

She was certainly familiar with the Jodłówka Collective. Perhaps she knew about Jasio's parents. It seemed that she had in fact seen him before. "But do you know hi…" I started to ask her.

"Commie's always talk too much," she muttered, not even deigning to look up at me. She couldn't take her eyes off of Jasio. "Surprise me, Mr. Big Shot Communist official, and stop talking."

So I shut up and just stood there waiting, as she continued to stare at Jasio. He was starting to edge back up behind me again when she barked out, "Go ahead. You take Jan in to eat now."

"Uh… yes ma'am," I answered meekly. I could tell she hadn't meant any offense. I guessed that at age 90 or 100, she just didn't have a lot of patience for conversation.

Jasio's gaze lingered on the old woman, when I motioned for him to come with me. I wondered what he must be thinking. He had just been informed of something so very personal, by someone whom he had just met – but someone who certainly sounded like she was the authority. And who was to gainsay her?

He sidled over to me, looking half suspiciously, half in consternation, at the old woman, as I opened the glass paneled door to the dining room and stepped to the side to let him in. He looked up at me, his brows drawn up with a hundred questions, and his eyes like polished ebony-tipped missiles boring into mine. There was a reckoning to be made, I realized. And I didn't blame him. It was all coming to a head.

Jasio would now more than ever want some answers, some understanding of this whole strange situation.

With one last glance back at the old woman, he started to turn away from her finally, but half way around he abruptly stopped dead in his tracks and stared in seeming astonishment at his own reflection in the wall-length mirror that stood next to the door.

I watched breathlessly, searching his face for what he was thinking. My god, had he ever seen himself before? Surely some of the farmers' wives had little hand mirrors. His eyes seemed to travel up and down slowly, taking in his whole reflected image. Then even more slowly, looking strained, almost hurt, he lifted his right hand and slipped the cap from his head and lowered it at arms' length, holding it down and away from his pants as if he suddenly felt that cap didn't belong with him, and that he must remove it, get rid of it, find some place away from his person to place it.

Almost furtively then, looking pained, he glanced up at me and I swore I saw something like an accusation, or disbelief, or… or shame? It made no sense to me. But it struck a cold blow deep into my chest. I felt like molding myself to the door jam in my own shame as he finally turned and slipped past me and walked with his head held down listlessly on into the dining room.

Something was bothering him about that cap, or that suit, or… I didn't know. But I was responsible for all this. Whatever it was, I had to make it right.

This boy had captured my soul. I longed to correct every wrong he had suffered. And I longed for what few moments and hours I had with him to be filled with warmth and hope. I couldn't bear to be the source of any more disappointment or pain in his life.

I breathed again, fitfully, and glanced back at the woman. She had witnessed it all too, and answered my gaze with a sternness that was quite clearly reproachful. "You brought him here, Communist. Now you do the right thing."

All I could do was nod back.

Jasio had seen himself before many times. No. Not in a mirror. Stupid Jasio was not likely to be granted time with such a precious possession. But he had seen himself in many ways. Even his own shadow revealed much to his studied gaze. He knew he was a slight boy. Slim. Straight, and standing as tall as his small frame allowed. That much he took pride in.

And then there was the pond. It's glassy surface on a windless day added color and features to the shadow's one-dimensional portrait. So he saw himself as he truly was. Every feature was a known fact. Rather high forehead, regular, even eyes – dark brown, he thought, looking into the inky well of the water. Narrow nose, lips red and… lips that could form any of a hundred shapes, from sad to thoughtful to angry to hurt… well they couldn't form happy too easily. A chin that… well, it seemed just right for his face, as did the ears, and the hair, and… he guessed he was satisfied with all of that too.

Yeah, he had seen himself many times, but never could he see IN himself what the others seemed to. Where was the STUPID reflected from? He had searched the ripples in the pond water countless times for that, and for all the other reasons that everyone booted him away. Yet he never saw all those other things. He only saw himself. He knew himself very well.

Till now.

He walked forward into the dining room towards the one table that was set with food and plates and glasses and knives and forks and spoons and… stopped at it's edge. He took inventory.

Just as one might expect. Everything for a good meal. For a fabulous meal. His stomach churned and twisted, begging to be filled. He felt his mouth watering. Yet could this be for him?

Was that boy in the mirror him!? Were these clothes for him? Was this hat… his?…

He set the cap down on the table next to the sparkling clean plate and shiny silverware, and reluctantly let his fingers slip from the soft fabric. They lingered on the equally virgin white of the tablecloth.

Behind him he heard Piotr following, heard the man's slow steps, soft and measured on the many-colored rug that covered most of the floor. Those steps belied the man's size and brute strength, but they seemed to fit with the way he had held the boy so tenderly just moments before, in the woods. They seemed to fit with the way he had sought permission to sit on the bed, to help Jasio dress, and the way they had laughed together, the way he had carefully laid all of Jasio's possessions out on the table… the way he had extended his hand…

Now he felt the very warmth of the man's body, as he stood quietly behind him. Of all things strange and wondrous here, of all things so UNfitting with Jasio's world, it had to be this man. So… what was this man… to him?…

"Uh… why don't you take that seat, Jasio," he heard Piotr say in a quiet, hushed, and hesitant voice. He wondered why the man sounded that way.

He did as suggested, and even felt the big man's helping hand on the back frame of the chair as he pushed the boy up to the edge of the table.

He watched as Piotr walked around to the opposite side and sat down, searching his face unobtrusively. Piotr looked so… intense. Wide-eyed, taking in everything, thoughtful, and a couple of times the man glanced over at Jasio as if he were about to say something, but still he hesitated. Finally he said, ""This looks great. I'm famished. Are yo… sorry, of course you are," he ended awkwardly.

Piotr lifted a fork and dipped it into the yolk of an egg. "Go ahead, Jasio, have at it. Eggs. Ham. Potatoes. All the milk we can drink."

Jasio understood. He just still found it hard to believe. He looked at his own plate. The potatoes threatened to spill off the side onto the table. There were two eggs, and more on a platter between them. Big sausages. A huge loaf of still steaming bread. A bounty that he had only seen at festival time, but once again Piotr made this time so different. This food was on HIS plate. This feast was for… Głupi Jasio.

He slowly picked up his own fork, but somehow he couldn't just plunge it in and start eating.

The tightness was there inside him again, just like out in the woods a moment ago, but this time not spreading from the man's hand on his penis – this time it was from a different kind of memory from his past. It threatened to choke him – like he sometimes felt when he got really sad, but… this feeling wasn't from sadness. It gripped him deep inside his chest, like a hand around his heart. Yes, he understood, but he was afraid to give in to this feeling – oh how long he had refused to acknowledge any hope! Not wanting it to, but completely unable to shut it out, Jasio felt the hope rising up from deep within his very being – it had for so long lain dormant and hidden. He used to sense glimmers of it every time he had a new idea or found an interesting new object – but in truth this thing welling up from within had been beaten down for so long that it was almost foreign. Now this man sitting across from him, urging him to eat, had let the thing loose.

Other people made so much of it – this Hope. It almost frightened him, yet he knew deep down that it was something good. If only he dared, he might let it rise more easily and accept it.

He felt his body shivering as he hesitantly touched the tip of his fork to the mound of potatoes on his plate.

Was it really possible that any of this was truly for him?! Could he dare to let this dream be a part of his reality?

He speared a potato and brought it tentatively to his lips, tasting it with the tip of his tongue. Shyly, wonderingly, he let his eyes peer over the fork towards the man seated across the table.

Could he dare to let Piotr be a part of his reality?

"It's good, huh?" I said, feeling better now that Jasio had finally taken up his spoon and fork and was eating. He was taking it slowly, sparingly. His hand had trembled for a bit at first, but at least he was eating. For a while there, as I walked behind him into the dining room, I had wondered. He had seemed to step forward into an unknown that he wasn't sure he was ready for.

I kept trying to imagine what he might be thinking, but it was hard! How to put myself in his shoes? Yeah, I'd been through some rough times in my life – including back when I was a kid myself – but nothing like this boy.

"Take anything you want, Jasio. Seems like we're the only ones around, so let's stuff ourselves while the stuffing's good."

"No, I mustn't eat much," the boy said quietly, keeping his eyes down. I don't think he had even once looked up to see how sumptuous this place was, or to look out upon the grounds behind the inn. It was a beautiful setting. Even more park-like than behind the cabins, with flower beds here and there, still in late bloom. And over to the right, visible through the big plate-glass windows covering one wall of the dining room, was a large glass-enclosed structure. I could see a veritable plantation of growth in there. Trees, ferns, bushes – must be a solarium. Not for the first time, I wondered how the old woman managed all of it. Surely she had help.

"Well, you can truly eat all you want," I urged him again.

"No," he repeated quietly. Not defiantly. Not forcefully. Just as if stating a fact.

"Why not?"

"I'll get sick. If I eat a lot after not eating for several days, I'll just throw it all up."

"Oh!"

How stupid of me, I thought. Once again I realized how little I really understood how harsh his life had been. "Good point. Then uhh… we'll ask the old woman to save some for you, ok?"

I tried to think of something else to say, and looked around the room guiltily, avoiding his eyes. When I did look back, he immediately dropped his gaze back to his plate.

"Who is she?" he suddenly asked. His voice was even higher than before, and tense, almost quavering. That, and the way he cocked his head in mystification, told me at least part of what was bothering him. Well, I had sensed it before. He needed some answers.

He looked so small and vulnerable there in his chair. The table was just the right size for two – and of course it was just like the one in the cabin – fashioned in the shape of conjoined circles. I sat on the side of the larger curve. He had taken the smaller. All about us were more tables, just like this one. Oddly enough, every setting was for two.

Mystery piled upon mystery. Always a new question to be answered here.

"Piotr," Jasio said again softly, his voice sounding just as small as he looked sitting there. I noticed his hands and fingers on the tabletop – so slim and small, like a doll's. I longed suddenly to hold them and to touch each digit and feel again his flesh with mine.

"Yes, Jasio."

"Who is that lady?"

"I'm… I'm not sure, Jasio. I think she just runs this place. Maybe she owns it."

"How did she know me? She really seemed to know me," he followed up quickly. He had dropped his fork on the plate with that first question, and I think he had totally forgotten about the food.

He wanted answers, but I didn't seem to have any. "I… uh… don't know that either, Jasio. She does seem to know about Jodłówka, so maybe she's been down there, and saw you.

"She's never been there while I was around."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes."

Of course I had to take his word on that. He was a survivor. He would have been aware of everything going on at the collective.

"Where is this place, Piotr?"

"Well, I think it's a resort of some kind, with a warm spring. We're up in the mountains above Jodłówka. It's called the Grecka Droga – we were on the Old King's Highway, and then I turned off onto the Greek Way. I guess it's an old road through the mountains, leading over into…"

"The road seems to end right in front of this inn." Jasio answered. Again not defiantly. Not accusingly. Just stating a fact. It made me realize how he was taking everything in here too. Probably he saw much more than I suspected he did.

"Hmmh, yeah, it does. But maybe…"

"What are we doing here?" he asked this time.

I took a deep breath and put down my own fork. Now how to answer that?

"We're resting, Jasio," I finally said. It was the truth.

"Resting? For how long?"

"Umm, I'm thinking, just today…"

"Why did you bring me here?"

"Well, I hit your wagon, and I wanted to make sure you were ok, and… but I couldn't stay around there at Jodłówka."

"Why not? I heard Leon tell you he would let you stay at his place."

Again I took a deep breath. There were two ways I could go with this. Deeper into a fabrication of half-truths or I could just tell him the facts. He was pretty good at sensing the facts anyway. He would no doubt know if I lied.

"I saw how you looked when Leon made the offer Jasio. And anyway, uh… some men are looking for me, Misiu. I frankly didn't want to stick around Jodłówka long enough to be identified. I couldn't leave you there. I felt like you needed me. So… I drove off with you. You did tell me that you'd trust me for a while, so…"

"Did you do something wrong?" He dug deeper, ignoring everything but the direct answer to his question. So I complied, and simply answered, "No."

"Why are they looking for you?"

"Let's put it this way. I did nothing wrong, in fact. They think I did, apparently, but I don't even have a clue…"

No. That wasn't altogether the truth. I did know part of why the KGB was after me. That damnable report I turned in on my last inspection trip. That damned airfield, and all the traffic in and out. Fuck!

Jasio saw the consternation on my face. He was studying me. He even started eating a few bites again, absent-mindedly. He remained quiet for a moment, but I figured he was thinking. Calculating.

"Where do we…," he started to say, looking straight at me, but then suddenly he dropped his gaze back down to his plate, and continued more deliberately. "What are you going to… do with me?" He had that same quaver in his voice again.

I couldn't blame him. I'd done right by him so far, but that was no guarantee, coming from a near stranger. He really had no reason to trust me entirely. I would have to prove myself again and again before I could ever expect him to fully accept everything.

"Well, of course I'll take you back down… home, to your Collective…," I said, thinking that would be his very first concern.

"Oh!" He looked up wide-eyed, and blinked hard. And then he just kind of deflated backwards in his seat, like that was the very last thing he had expected or wanted to hear. He sat there slack-jawed for a moment, unmoving, staring at me, looking almost wounded, one hand suspended and tensed over the table top, the other holding his fork over his plate as if frozen in time.

"Well… Jasio, I don't know where else I could take you." I tried to respond, sounding guilty and defensive even to myself. Like I needed to explain this very carefully for it to make sense at all. "Like I said, I felt like you needed me. And last night, I figured I needed just a little time, so I could made some plans to help you. I was going to take you back, then. I just can't…"

"Back there? How could you help me back there? They'll just…"

"I… don't know yet, Jasio," I interrupted. "I'm not going to let anyone mistreat you again. Please believe me. I have some friends… a friend. He might be able…"

He dropped the fork and clutched the edge of the table with one hand on either side of his plate, and just held on, tensed, looking down unseeingly.

"Then it doesn't make sense why you brought me here, if you're going to take me back there." He said it distantly now, as if to himself, still staring down into the plate.

"I felt like you needed to… like I had to get you away from there for just a while…"

"None of it makes any sense, if you're…," he continued, then finally looked up at me again and said, "Why, Piotr?"

"Wh… why… what, Jasio? I'm sorry if I'm not…"

"Why did you… even come back for me, at all?" he asked almost accusingly, tilting his head to the side, as if trying to peer at me from a new angle, to somehow understand it all.

"Well. You were… hungry," I answered, throwing out the first thing I could come up with. I certainly wouldn't be able to explain to him what I was really feeling when I turned my car back around and sped back to him and his cart.

"Ok. But you gave me food. So why did you come back?"

"I could see… I felt… you were alone there, and then I drove off, and thought how… it was so cold, Jasio, and I couldn't bear the thought of you out there in the cold like that." I answered, my tone almost pleading.

"You covered me."

Yes, but… you needed a place to sleep.

"I've slept on the ground many times."

"Yes, but I couldn't just leave you there."

"Why not, Piotr? Can't you see, that's what I'm asking. Why did you do it all, Piotr? Why didn't you just drive away and leave me there? Isn't that what a Party man would do?" He spoke softly still, but to my mind his questions were like darts or bullets, machine-gunned at me, scatter-shot. He just shook his head at me, still in disbelief.

I couldn't believe that he doubted my sincerity. Surely he had seen what I meant, how I felt? Stupidly, I answered even more defensively, "Look, I'm a member of the Party, but you know we're not all monst…"

He just stared at me for a moment, then seemed to dismiss me, mumbling quietly now, almost inaudibly, "That's what all people do, Piotr. Not just Party men. I thought that… you…" He picked up the fork again and desultorily pushed a sausage across the plate.

I sat there stunned for a moment. It hit me right in the pit of my stomach – being included in his mind among all those others who had used and abused him throughout his short life. But I was different. I had held him, snuggled with him, dressed him. I had begged for his trust, and he had given it. I HAD held those perfect hands in mine.

"I don't want you… to…," his voice squeaked now with his emotion, and I could see the tears starting to stream down his cheeks.

"Jasio…" I muttered, opening my hands wide, beseechingly. Trouble was, I didn't really know what to say.

"You were going to be different, Piotr. I could tell you were different from…" He couldn't finish, but just sat there looking at me so hurt, shaking his head back and forth slowly in denial, till he just let his head fall down to rest on his forearm. His whole body convulsed with quiet sobs.

I was rising from my seat, reaching across to him, about to ask him where on Earth he wanted to go if not back to the Collective, when suddenly I collapsed back down into my seat. Understanding came in a blanching wave, and I realized how dense I was being – how utterly stupid I had been. And how blind. I should have read the facts in the way he had sought refuge in my embrace just this morning, in bed. Or in the way he had touched the new clothes. Or in the way he had waited for me before stepping into the woods, or slunk behind me to hide from the old woman, or… damnit, how he had looked at himself in the mirror just now…

It was one of the strangest moments of my life, because the realization made me at one and the same moment both elated and shamed. I meant something to this boy! He already looked to me for more than just the food or the clothes. He already expected much more of me. He wanted to stay with me! How many years had I hoped and dreamed for a boy to love? A boy who would love me.

Now what a hole I had dug for us! I had gone back to him last night because I couldn't bear to just abandon him, like everyone else had seemed to. I had sworn to try save him, and here I was bumbling everything.

I had raised his hopes, given him a glimpse of what his life might have been like if he had had a father or a mother or an uncle or… even just some friend, someone who would do the slightest little thing to show that he was a boy worth caring for. That much I had done right. But now didn't that give him a right to depend on me? I had raised his hopes, just to dash them? I'd take him back to the collective? Dump him there and just disappear from his life?

But what else could I do!!!

"Jasio," I said quietly, forcing myself to be calm. I waited till he looked up at me. He didn't even raise his head – just looked up from under his brow. "I know that a lot of this just doesn't make sense, but you just have to believe me. I do care. I'm not like all those others down at Jodłówka. I want to try to make some changes for you down there, so… so when we… Damnit. You just have to believe me that I'd keep… I'd stay with y… I'd work every single day for the rest of my life for you if only…"

His eyes were slick with the tears, but he lifted his head and wiped them with both hands. His lips trembled as he almost whispered, "Just forget it, Party man," he said, sounding so infinitely weary and defeated. He pushed his plate away. "I've been through it all before. I'll get these clothes off. Just get me back my own stuff, please" For a brief moment his fingers sought the sailor cap, but then he sighed and let it go, and started to push the chair back to get up.

"Jasio!" I pleaded, perhaps calling out too loudly, but there was no more time for feeble responses. I laid down my fork and sat up straight. He had a right to know the everything. Especially if he did care for me, he had to know what I felt too. And I had to make him know about all the danger, all the possibilities. He had to understand that I wasn't like everyone else, but that love cannot, does not conquer all.

"Jasio, I…"

"Yes?" he looked up at me intently

"Misiu, I want to tell you everything. I'll have to tell you some things about me that maybe you won't understand, about how I fee…"

"You two don't like my food," the old woman surprised us, interrupting me in mid-sentence. I hadn't even heard her enter the dining room. Jasio almost fell off his chair as he instantly shifted around to face her in alarm.

"Oh. No, ma'am," I said confusedly, trying to regain my composure. "Everything is delicious. We're simply not that hungry this morning, I suppose."

"Now what boy isn't hungry?" she said gruffly as she walked straight up to Jasio and pinched his cheek. He flinched from her, and shrank back even more in his chair. "You look like a skinny boy – you need to eat more."

"Commie! I don't know what you two were talking about," she rounded on me gruffly, "but it wasn't good. You made this boy cry. Now you two get off to the baths, and you take care of him!"

"I… I want to, babciu. It's not what yo…"

"I'll have a nice dinner ready for you at one o'clock. You had both better work up an appetite before that," she ignored me. "Now get out of here."

"Yes ma'am," I replied grimly, and stood up. Jasio edged his legs around on his chair, pivoting on his butt, and slid off it to the opposite side from the old woman, then stepped around the table to me.

Still his protector, I thought, once again feeling the rush of elation. So he wasn't yet completely convinced that I was going to betray him like everyone else.

I put my arm around his shoulder and drew him to me.

"Right back out the door with you both, and to the solarium. You'll bath there this time," she ordered.

"Alright. Oh, you have other baths… you don't… have many customers here at the resort this season?" I said, fishing for something to say as I sidled with Jasio towards the door.

"Not many customers these days," she said offhandedly as she started gathering up Jasio's plates. "Mostly officers now. Since the war."

"Military? You mean, the resort has become a favorite for Polish military families?

"Men." She emphasized the word looking straight at me. "Polish, Russian, German. French. Mostly military men now – used to be different, in the old days, before the War, and before you Communists."

That seemed very odd indeed. German military men, still coming here? The old woman must be in her dotage.

"Uh. May I ask about the very unusual pattern that I see everywhere about the resort? The motif of the… conjoined circles, of the rectangles, one overlapping the other, or… well, as in this table, and the one in our room – these two ovals. It seems a very distinctive sort of pattern. Is there a theme that…"

"Hmmh!" she grunted and looked at me as if I were astonishingly dimwitted, then just turned and shuffled away with the plates, shaking her head.

"I told you, Commie. Men come here. Boys come here, too." she said mysteriously, and disappeared through the swinging doors to the kitchen.

Jasio's tears were still on my mind when I undressed and descended the steps to the first terrace within the bath. Those tears had left a red stain on his cheeks. I figured that the hot, humid air within the solarium would do nothing to pale that flush, but surely the warm waters would make him feel a bit better.

I had expected him to just naturally strip and get into the pool with me. If there was ever a boy who needed a bath it was Jasio. I wondered when was the last time he had even had the opportunity for a hot bath, much less the last time he had taken advantage of that opportunity. Certainly it had been weeks. Perhaps months.

Personally, I had pried my sandals off before the door behind us was shut. "One thing about Piotrek," Tomek used to laugh as he warned the new recruits in our war-time band, "if you ever see his eyes get all wide and eager for something, watch out! He'll trip over you and himself and everything else to get at it."

I wasn't quite that bad this time. I knew Jasio was still upset. He hadn't said a word since we got up from the table. Nevertheless, I had stripped and was dipping my foot in before I realized that he wasn't undressing. I went ahead and stepped into the pool, hoping he would follow. I wished I could do something to cheer him up. The waters were crystal clear, the air was scented with the fragrance of the hothouse flowers. It was hard to imagine a more inviting bath.

I lowered myself slowly into the enveloping heat, and felt like I was melting into the pool. Even my member, swollen and stiff by mere proximity to the boy for so many hours since we had met, was now limp. It nestled supine between my legs as I lay back upon the tile. Supine and impotent. Just as I felt.

Still Jasio stood there very stiffly, nervously clutching both hands together, pulling and twisting his fingers. Once again I realized how little I knew about him. How little I knew about his past. Once again I wished I could start over and do this right! Perhaps he didn't even know how to swim.

Tomek was right. I was a klutz.

"Want to… join me?" I called to him tentatively. My voice sounded hollow and small. We were both dwarfed by the vaulted glass walls and ceiling. There were louvers over each pane, but most were open at this time of the day, and the sunlight streamed in. It was like the air and water both were part of our bodies, it was so warm.

"In there?" he answered timidly, looking so innocent and demure in his sailor suit. I thought he was going to pop his fingers off, he looked so nervous.

"Yeah, please do. It feels wonderful, Misiu."

"What is… this place?" He said, changing the subject, unconsciously opening his hands and holding them out palms wide, emcompassing the whole amazing spectacle.

For it was quite astonishing. The building was really a tropical sanctuary and bath combined. The seven or eight meter [23-26 feet] wide bathing pool. just like the wide verge around it, was completely tiled in immaculate white, but it was just a small feature giving way to the flourishing jungle enclosed under the great glass dome. There were trees, ferns, grass around a natural pond, reeds rising up from within right along with misty tendrils of steam from the warm waters. On the far side they had even diverted part of the mountain stream to flow through the Solarium, providing its low burbling accompaniment to this natural symphony of colors and growth and warmth.

"It's not deep at all, and it feels like heaven. Come on and join me. Then we can wash."

"In the pool?"

"Well, we can just soak in the pool. Then we'll wash there on that little alcove – see?" I pointed to one side of the pool, where a much smaller wading enclosure was connected to it, but a bit lower. A cascade from the larger pool would gradually flush any soapy waters from the smaller one into a drain. It was really quite an clever arrangement. "I'm sure we're supposed to wash first, but… well, we ARE the only ones here, so… come on in."

"I guess… so," he answered with obvious reluctance.

I lay back completely, and closed my eyes, and paddled backwards off the shallow terrace into the deeper waters in the middle of the pool. It felt gloriously invigorating. I knew I needed a real bath, but this soaking was something like I imagined heaven to be. It even had the boy…

I let myself just float there then, my feet resting on the floor of the shallow pool, and opened my eyes to gaze upon The Boy.

A few years after the war, the Russians put on a traveling exhibit of the great treasures of St Petersburg. Funny how the city wasn't called Leningrad during that show. The Ruskis wanted to demonstrate to all the world the profligacy of the noble classes. They wanted everyone in their new Proletarian empire to witness Romanov decadence. Among all the finery were some of The Tzarina's jewels, and among those was the fabulous Tashkent Diamond. I remember gazing into its facets, looking for the famous flaw within – the crude, jagged, heart-shaped shard captured within the clear crystalline structure – the intrusion that had made this diamond the most fabulous jewel of all.

Till now. For as I lay back within the gently swirling waters of the Greka Droga and opened my eyes, The Boy knelt in one languid motion to remove his own sandals. Captured there before a background of sunlit crystalline panes, upon the virgin, polished white of the tile, he reminded me of the heart within that diamond – and how it's presence had transformed a mere stone into something fit only for a mighty king's beloved.

Breathelessly I watched as the reflected light from the pool dappled across Jasio's form. From that mystical moment he became one with the Grecka Droga, a living part of it. My own heart started thumping within my chest as I looked about as if in a dream. There was this one boy here, and this one man.

"Men come here," the old woman had said.

"Boys come here, too."

Dizzily, I felt just like Jasio had earlier – like I had been here before… or like this had happened before… but of course that wasn't true! It was just the freshening warmth of the waters – surely it was just my mind growing suddenly light and dizzy from this glorious bath! The two of us…

I shook my head, and pulled myself up so that I could prop my elbows upon the submerged shelf, and took another look around the solarium.

Two pools. The large pond. The bath. Two paths leading through the jungle, two trees there beside the pond, two… of everything! Two of every type of fern, and…

I turned back to The Boy. There was a rainbow rising above him in the humid air of our glass-enclosed world. Within it's frame rays of sunlight suddenly stabbed down through the ceiling and played upon him. I looked straight up, and there within the uppermost pane was every color of the spectrum, as if seen through a prism – all conjoining to shine down upon him…

The sun continued in its inexorable journey through our one day together, and the prism suddenly closed. I looked back across the pool. Jasio had stood up again and was looking at himself, his arms wide, as if he couldn't believe what he saw.

"Did you see that!" he uttered in astonishment as he looked up at me.

"I did," I managed to answer, shaking my head in wonderment.

"I was just… suddenly all these lights suddenly hit me, and… but I didn't feel anything .. and they were totally… there was no noise, just all these colors…"

"It was magnificent, Jasio," I said. "I think for a moment there you became part of a rainbow. I saw a rainbow. Maybe you were my treasure at the end of the rainbow."

"What!?" he cocked his head to the side and looked at me quizzically, and giggled. "Some treasure," he said. "I'm just a boy."

"And for some men that would be all the treas…" I started to say, but let the rest of my thought trail off unuttered. Slowly I settled myself back down into the water a bit, letting my elbows slide off the edge but extending my arms out to hold my body out, just submerged within the pool, my head and shoulders still out.

He raised his brow. I was sure he sensed my embarrassment, because he fell silent too. He must also have understood what I had almost said, because as he returned to undressing himself, it somehow seemed less tense or worried about it. Like his thought were somewhere else, more introspective.

He nudged his sandals off, using each foot in turn to lever them off. Then he bent to take them up in both his hands. It was odd the way he held them, looking at them, as if they were the treasures, as he tip-toed on his bare feet to one wall and carefully placed them, toes out and heels against the wall, side by side.

He was so slender! He let one foot fall back upon it's heel, but with the nearer he stood poised, as if waiting for the opening notes of some ballet. Then it started. I watched in stony silence as he lifted his fingers to unbutton his tunic. Standing sideways to me, facing the wall over his shoes, I got a perfect look at his boyish lines – the graceful flow of the back of his tunic from his narrow shoulders all the way down till its hem brushed the gentle outward thrust of his bottom. The curve of his buttocks stretched the fabric of his shorts out suggestively, then fell to mid-thigh. His legs looked infinitely long – they were so thin, but not at all bony – just sculpted of curves and taut lines. He held himself tall, and looked statuesque, even though he barely came to my chest when we stood together. I wondered, as I so often did when I saw other boys, what it would be like for me as a grown man to bend down and share a kiss with him.

If only…

I closed my eyes momentarily, and tried to erase the thought of our parting from my mind. Such a kiss was not to be, but it would do him no harm for me to dream.

When I opened my eyes again, he had started lowering the tunic over his shoulder. I gasped!

I swear up until that moment it had not dawned on me that I was going to witness his disrobing! I had been a dumb spectator, but now…

He was surprised by my gasp, and turned his head quickly to me, suddenly startled out of his own thoughts.

The tunic draped down in a sensuous curve over his bared shoulder, and below. His thin arm was held tight against his side. I could see the shadows there, deepened where it entered the secret concavity of his closed armpit. I wanted leap out of the pool to lean down there too, and breathe deeply… but his shoulder blade jutted out, emphasizing how delicate were his lines – what a slight boy he was… would I rather draw my finger tips over it, to trace those lines?

Like the statue that I had envisioned, he stood there looking at me, unmoving. I saw his eyes lower along the lines of my own body, until they rested still, staring at my midsection.

It was only then that I realized that my penis had begin to lift from the waters. It was pulsing, growing hard fast, like the head of a snake rising curved then lengthening and straightening in just a few brief seconds till it stood straight up from its nest. Without conscious compulsion, my body flexed, and I felt the uncontrollable urge to lift my midsection up out of the waters. My dick rose magnificently, 21 centimeters [8¼ inch] of blood-engorged meat. My balls lifted and swayed, just breaking the surface of the water.

There was nothing I could do about it. He was boy. I was man. I couldn't have hid my manhood from him, or what he had caused in it, from him even if I had wanted to.

For some reason, now I didn't want to. I wanted him to see it. How huge it was. How solid and hard it was. How he had made it.

I could only gulp for air, and rock there in the water, showing him. I wanted to call out to him, beg him to see it, to understand it.

Jasio lined the shoes up carefully, wondering how long he'd get to use them. Maybe up against the wall they wouldn't get splashed. Shoes like that, clothes like those he had been given this morning, were special. Too precious to stain or dirty in any way. He wanted Piotr to know how grateful he was for the chance to wear them too – maybe if he took good care of them, Piotr would understand.

The man tried hard to make him happy, that much Jasio knew. Even at breakfast, Jasio realized how it pained Piotr to talk about leaving him back at Jodłówka. The man cared.

Now here in the bath place, Piotr had called him his treasure at the end of the rainbow!

Worriedly, Jasio started unbuttoning his shirt, realizing all of a sudden that the man was watching him. What if he made a mistake in the bath? What if he fell in. He had never learned to swim. Not like the other boys on the Collective. It was the water… the dark water in the pond – for some reason Jasio just couldn't force himself to jump in, when he couldn't even see the bottom of the pond through the murky waters. The other boys didn't seem to mind, but…

Well, that was Głupi Jasio. Always asking what was in there.

"Just jump in! The monsters won't bite you too hard, Stupid Johnny!"

The waters here in the bath were clear. So why did he still hesitate, wondered Jasio.

He wanted to get in. He wanted to please Piotr. The man kept inviting him in. Ok, so he'd just do it. Just get the clothes off, and get in with Piotr.

He'd have to take care of this shirt too, though. Keep it nice and clean. He'd take it off carefully, fold it just right. Set it on the shoes.

Absently he started unbuttoning the tunic, his mind on what Piotr had told him. They had to go back. This couldn't go on forever. Jasio knew that he could cry about it, get upset about it, but none of that would do any good. It would all soon be over. He regretted making a fuss in the breakfast room. Piotr had done so much for him already. Jasio realized suddenly that he had never even said thanks. The man had been so kind – beyond anything that anyone had ever done for him before.

In the bath. He'd tell Piotr in the bath. He'd try to be nicer. He wasn't a treasure, for sure. But at least he could try to make the man happy. As he thought about it, he realized that he so much wanted to just please this man.

His shirt started to loosen, and slip down over his shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye, Jasio could see Piotr's form there in the pool, reclining back, his body half in and half out of the water. Shyly he wondered if the man were watching him.

He thought he heard Piotr call out. Quickly he turned his head to look, and he froze. Piotr was indeed looking at him. Jasio took it all in at a glance. The same kind of look in the man's eyes that Leon got before he made the boy get down between his legs and suck him. And Piotr was hard again – it seemed like his whole body was suddenly rock-solid, laying there rigid in the water, with his huge cock sticking up like a weapon. Instantly Jasio felt the familiar tightness in his chest, but he also felt different – when Leon got that look, it might mean Jasio would get a beating. Sometimes he ran – especially if Leon had been drinking – but there was something that made him stay more often. The feeling that Leon somehow wanted him. That there was in fact at least some small thing in him that someone could want. Something that wasn't hated. Something that wasn't stupid.

There was something different about the way Piotr looked, though. He didn't have the glare that Leon always had. There was the need there. The same kind of look of intensity – but with Piotr it was more a look of wanting than taking. Suddenly Jasio felt a flood of emotion. He wanted to reach out and give Piotr whatever it was that he needed. But what was it? What was it that made him look like that, so feverish and… hungry… but not threatening, like Leon?

Jasio studied Piotr's gaze. Followed it.

The man was fixated on him. On his shoulder. On his arm, there… where the shirt had fallen down.

Jasio breathed in in a rush, and quickly jerked his head back, looking forward blindly at the tiled wall before him. His fingers suddenly trembled on the buttons of his tunic. But they shook not from fear, as they sometimes did when Leon tried to possess him, but from something else.

His heart was beating harder, pounding in his chest. The tightness traveled down to his stomach, and… beyond. He felt it between his legs, like invisible fingers suddenly had a grip on his balls and were pulling them down, then squeezing them, then reaching up to cup his cock too, pushing up, in, causing the pressure to build up with him.

His whole body shuddered.

Piotr had gotten hard like that, looking at him!

He knew it. He felt the man's gaze now. And for some reason it made him feel good and all trembly and weak at the knees and like… if the man… liked him, if the man wanted him, then…

"And then, sometimes, well, we get hard because of… great emotion. Like when we see someone who's… exciting to us, someone we like…"

Jasio heard Piotr's words echoing in his mind again.

Someone we like…

The boy breathed audibly, forcing the air through his nose, letting it out in a halting release through his mouth.

HE! HE, Głupi Jasio, had done this. Just by being here, standing here. He had caused Piotr to say it again – without words – that he liked Jasio…

Jasio glanced back at the man, trying not to turn his head too much, but straining to see. Piotr still lay there as if entranced. He too was breathing hard. He seemed to be laying back, forcing his cock up like one of the columns Jasio had planted in his Shadow Ring back at Jodłówka. Piotr seemed to be signaling to Jasio, whether he meant to or not – but with none of the anger and meanness of Leon – he just seemed to want to tell Jasio…

Again the feeling swept over the boy. This was what it felt like to be truly wanted! To be liked… he looked again at Piotr, and felt himself suddenly wanting to rush to the man. If the man wanted him, wasn't it the right thing to do? But what if…

Jasio was afraid. Not the kind of fear that he would get with Leon, or any of the other men at Jodłówka. This fear wasn't for his safety. It was more like, just being afraid to do the wrong thing. He wanted to do only what was right for Piotr. To repay him. To show him that he liked him too.

"Some men like the way you… the way boys look, and that can make us hard too, so…"

He likes the way I look, Jasio knew it. He likes me!

Then he knew what he wanted to do, and a calmness descended upon him. His fingers rested steady, clasping the last of the buttons on his tunic. Slowly, with infinite patience, still standing sideways to Piotr, he undid the button and pulled the shirt apart, letting it slide ever so slowly off his shoulders.

Look at me, Piotr, he called out to the man silently, still feeling the man's eyes on him. Surely the man could hear him. They were making connection. He could swear he felt the man's soft, caressing touch on his shoulder and then falling down his back, just as the shirt revealed his flesh.

His skin prickled. Even in the wamth within the building, he felt his skin tingle. He had always wanted Leon to touch him, for some reason. But that man's hand had always been heavy and brutal, holding his head down upon his man-sized cock. Now Jasio imagined Piotr's touch. So different!

He let the shirt glide all the way down his arms, then swung it back around and slowly folded it. Just as slowly he bent at the waist and placed the shirt reverently upon the shoes, and stood upright again, wondering if Piotr liked that too. Did he like the shape of his shoulder? The arch of his back? What was it he liked?

Very deliberately he turned his head once again, but this time he sought Piotr's eyes, and waited until the man was looking straight into his own. I'm going to continue, Piotr, he called out silently again, praying the man would hear him and understand. That the man would accept his… gift. The man had called him a treasure. Then so be it. If some men liked boys. If some men like the way boys looked – If Piotr liked the way he looked, then…

Here… I offer myself to you. Whatever I have of treasure, is yours…

Jasio placed his hands upon the buttons of his pants and felt the tautness there, realizing only then that the fabric was tight and lifted out over his own hardened cock. He hadn't even felt it stiffening… or had he… was that tightness, that gripping feeling the way Piotr felt? Was that what you felt when you liked someone? Would Piotr realize what Jasio felt too?

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