Boarding School (35 page)

While Dorothy sat up against the headboard, I would look at Matt and yell to him… “I want to welcome her to Munchkin Land!” And then I was supposed to reach over and rip or pull off a piece of “her” clothing.

“Oh!” the actor would cry out in falsetto after the injustice I had just visited upon her had been done. Then it would be Matt’s turn to holler back at me.

“No, /want to welcome her to Munchkin Land!” RIP!

“Oh!” The falsetto Dorothy would fretfully express her indignation again.

Then it would be my turn once more. “No, / want to welcome her to Munchkin Land!” RIP!

“Oh! You cads! Where is Auntie Em when I need her?”

And so it went. Eventually Matt and I had succeeded in tearing off all of Dorothy’s clothing. Once “she” was naked, the actor then made us sit still while with pretend anger he reversed the action and quickly stripped off our clothing until he had us naked as well. And then he directed me to attack him by performing a blow job on him while he lay there helpless and screaming (still in falsetto) every so often for help. Once I had made him ejaculate, it was Matt’s turn then to attack him by giving it to him in his mouth. Afterwards, Matt and I agreed that it was disappointing as hell for us to discover that this actor whom we had admired for so long was really just a wuss.

The next day, after an amazing breakfast of eggs benedict, we spent most of the time we had remaining just walking and kicking a soccer ball through the small fields which made up the actor’s backyard. Amid the vast stands of trees which filled much of his property, we lay down on fallen leaves and removed our trousers so we could trade even more blow jobs with our host until the time had come, finally, for us to be picked up. To our surprise, Mr. Stuart turned out to be our driver for the day instead of Joe. After the hair-raising experience we had gone through with Joe, Matt and I were relieved to be riding with someone else. And with the idea of finding out where the man had spent his weekend, we asked Mr. Stuart how it was that he was driving us on this day. The head of our school responded to our probe by revealing only that he had spent the night with a friend in a nearby town and as such, found it easy to stop for us today as he made his way back to the Academy. So once we had said our good-byes to our host and had climbed into our headmaster’s car, Matt and I agreed that, our disappointment with the man’s true personality notwithstanding, our weekend with the actor had been a blast.

* * *

During the next few weeks, we became accustomed to our new routine. On Wednesday afternoons and evenings we provided the services we had been trained to perform on whatever local area customers happened to show up at the inn, while on our off nights, to quell our raging urges, Matt and I usually found ways on our own to relieve each other’s tension. And then on weekends, depending upon how our time was scheduled, we would either go out on two one-day excursions, or we would pack our bags and leave the campus for an overnight trip.

We were also aware of the progress that Carlos and Juan were making as they were put through the same training that we had been forced to endure. Carlos was shorter and had thick curly hair, while Juan was taller and had his hair cut above the ears and combed over on top. On the weekend they were scheduled to go into the mud pit, I wondered how Artist’s mud sculpting would make each boy appear. Matt and I weren’t permitted to have much contact with either of them during this period, but we found out from some of our gang that even after the beatings and the drugs and the booze, Juan was still being defiant every so often while Carlos had succumbed fully as we both had.

On that same weekend, Matt and I were driven down to New York City to stay overnight with a man who lived alone off Third Avenue in Manhattan. We never really learned very much about this guy other than he worked in an office on Wall Street and he treated us with great kindness. Until this trip, Matt had never been to New York, but I had already visited the city a few times by this point in my life. We had been told to bring dark suits with us and fortunately Matt and I each owned one because this man wound up taking us out to Sign of the Dove for dinner that Saturday night. He had warned us ahead of time to say that we were his nephews in from Chicago for the weekend should anyone who knew him happen to stop by our table for a visit.

“Most people who know me know that I live alone, and I wouldn’t want any of them to get the wrong idea about me,” he explained as we were seated next to one of the mirrored walls in the restaurant.

“You mean the right idea,” I replied softly and with a smile on my face.

A bashful sort of an expression then came over the man. “Well, yes I suppose you’re right. But you know what I mean.” Then, as soon as the waiter had taken our orders, our host continued in a voice which was just loud enough for the two of us to hear.

“You know, I would never ever hurt anyone or force anyone to do something they wouldn’t want to do. I admit that I like boys. In fact, when I have a steady young friend I feel happy all the time and complete. Like I’m a whole person, finally. But I would never want to do something that would harm a boy in any way.”

At this point Matt and I looked at each other and I could see that the very same thought which had just crossed my mind was in my roommate’s brain as well. And that was… if what our host was saying to us was true, then why the heck were we here?

“I’ve dated women, you know,” the man continued. “I’ve even gone to bed with them, but I could never get excited about being with them… if you know what I mean.”

“You mean they never got you aroused?” Matt asked. By now we had become used to speaking plainly about sexual matters.

“Well… that’s right. No matter how hard I try, I just don’t seem to be able to be interested in women in a sexual way,” he told us.

“What about men?” I asked. I was now finding this conversation a bit intriguing.

“Well, I finally got to a place in my life a few years ago where I decided that if women didn’t turn me on, I must be interested in men, instead. In New York there are places where gay men can go to find other gay men, so I began going to some of these places and looking for a guy I might find interesting. And after a while I found a man who seemed interested in me.”

“What happened then?” I asked when our host paused for a moment to take a sip of water.

“Well, we went out for dinner and then later on we wound up back at my apartment.”

“Did ya do it with him, then?” Matt was now into this guy’s story as much as I was. And I had to admit, our host was a very engaging fellow.

Undaunted by my roommate’s frankness, our host then went on with his story. “Well, after we had both had a few drinks, we did go to bed together. But just like the experiences I had with women, going to bed with another man just didn’t excite me either. So the evening turned out to be a complete disaster and we never saw each other again.”

“That’s too bad,” I remarked without thinking.

The man then looked at me and smiled. “Thank you. No matter how hard I’ve tried to deny it, and no matter what I’ve tried to get around it, I could never get over the fact that boys are where my interests really lie. And it’s not just sexual stuff I ‘m talking about. When I have a boy as a steady friend, we cuddle together in front of the TV, we ride bikes in the park, we go to the Y and go swimming, we shoot baskets in a nearby school yard… we do lots more than just have sex with each other.”

“What about young girls?” Matt asked as the waiter suddenly appeared to serve us our salads.

The man waited for a few moments until our first course had been placed on our table and everyone who wanted ground pepper had been given some, and then he gave my friend his answer. “No, having any kind of a physical relationship with a young girl is just wrong. Their emotions get too wrapped up in everything they do. Sex with boys, on the other hand, is more like… well it’s more like horsing around. You know… like play.”

“So that means you think it’s ok to do it with boys?” I asked. The man then took a bite of his salad and looked at me again. “Well if I didn’t, you boys wouldn’t be here right now. Look, I’m not a predator, if that’s what you’re asking me. People always think that people like me are predators, but they’re wrong. I would never do anything to harm a child,” he proclaimed emphatically. “You have to believe me. I don’t believe in forcing a boy or anyone for that matter to do something they don’t want to do. But I’ve discovered that there are plenty of boys out there who want to do sexual things with each other as well as with grown-ups. So I just try to find these boys so I can become their friend. I mean if they’re going to do it… they might as well do it with me. Don’t you see?”

“Have you had any luck?” Matt asked.

“Some. Actually, I’ve had a young friend for the past few years, until a couple of months ago. He lived alone with his mother in my building and when I discovered them, I became friends with his mom right away. She worked at night so pretty soon it became a regular thing for her to rely on me by leaving her son with me every evening to babysit. I never go out anywhere, so I was always happy to help her. The boy himself was very affectionate and liked to cuddle with me in front of the TV. So one night when we were in our pajamas and cuddling in my living room, he reached down and gave my crotch a few rubs with his hand, and then he looked up at me and smiled his million-dollar smile. ‘Do you like that?’ he asked me.

“I had suspected it before this night, but it was at this moment when I knew for sure that this little imp was trying to seduce me. ‘I sure do,’ I answered. ‘Would you like me to do the same thing to you?’ I asked.

“He said he did. So I rubbed him back. He liked it, so I rubbed him back some more. And pretty soon I had his pajamas off and I was giving him a full body massage. And once I had him completely relaxed, I gave this boy his first ever blow job. He loved it, of course. And it wasn’t too many days after that before I had taught him how to give me blow jobs too. ‘It’s only fair,’ I used to tell him. ‘Whatever I do to you, you have to do to me.’”

“How old was this boy?” Matt asked. Neither of us were eating now. We had both become transfixed by this guy’s story.

“This happened when he was eight,” the man answered.

“Eight?” I asked in amazement. I then looked at Matt and saw that he couldn’t believe what he was hearing either. Somehow, this guy had misconstrued innocent childish horse play for sexual advances. We felt it was extremely doubtful if this boy had possessed any idea at all of what he was doing when he first rubbed the man’s groin. So how, we wondered, had this guy not understood that? And then the story continued.

“Before long whenever he’d come up to my apartment, he’d be out of his clothes in no time and telling me that I had to take mine off too. And so I would. Ohhh…” he sighed. “We used to have so much fun together.”

“What happened to him?” Matt asked.

“Oh, his mother finally married some guy and they all moved out to Flushing. After that, I never saw him again.”

“How old was he when he moved away?” I asked.

“Twelve,” our host answered sadly.

“So that means you two had sex all the time for four years?” I calculated.

“Yes,” the man answered with a far-away look in his eye. “They were the best four years of my life.”

The waiter was back then with our meal, so we all stopped talking about this man’s four-year affair with his neighbor boy and turned our attention to our food. And because it was so clear to us that our host was still greatly saddened by the fact that this young friend of his was no longer in his life, we changed the subject after that and tried not to bring the boy up in any of our further conversations for that weekend.

After dinner our host took us to see the musical
Hair
—we were glad to see that we weren’t the only ones being made all the time to take our clothes off— and then when the show had ended, we returned to his apartment and drank alcohol until we had all become blitzed. Right before bed, however, there was one thing our host made us do to earn our keep. As it turned out, this man liked showers also. He didn’t have one as large or as elaborate as the one that Fatso owned, but the one in his bathroom was big enough for all three of us to fit into at the same time. So after we had undressed, Matt and I followed the man in and then took turns wetting ourselves down.

“Ok now each of you pick up a cake of soap,” the man instructed once the steam from the hot water had raised the air temperature in the shower to a comfortable level. “Then I want you boys to use the soap and your hands at the same time to wash every inch of my body from my shoulders down.”

By this time in our careers as boy prostitutes we had heard crazier requests, so obligingly we did what was asked of us.

“Ahhhh!” As soon as our hands began to rub the soap around on his skin, our host instantly closed his eyes and began to relax. He had been tense all night and even the alcohol he had consumed with us hadn’t managed to calm him all that much. So as our hands worked up a lather on him, the only thing we could see that wasn’t relaxing was his penis. The longer we rubbed, the more swollen it became. I remember thinking that his penis reminded me of a balloon being inflated by a bottle of compressed helium as he continued to be aroused by our touch. This went on for a while until the man finally opened his eyes again and spoke to me.

“Ok, you can stop now. Next I want you to take a step back and sit down for a few minutes. Ok?”

“Ok,” I answered obediently. And then I planted my bare bottom on a little triangular seat which had been set into one of the rear corners of his shower. Once I was sitting, I then watched our host speak to my roommate.

“Ok now, and you… I want you to stop washing me and I’m going to pull you toward me so you can hug me for a little while. All right?”

As water dripped steadily from the ends of his hair and his ear lobes, Matt looked soulfully up into the man’s eyes as he listened intently to these instructions. Our host had treated us very kindly all night and yet our presence that evening seemed to do little to cheer him up. His sadness over the recent loss of his relationship with the neighbor boy was profound. And despite our misgivings over the way he viewed his relationships, and the world in general, he was a gentle man and Matt and I did grow to like him during our visit. So by this time Matt and I had come to a point where we sincerely wanted to do for this man whatever we could to help him to feel better. So when he asked us for something, we wanted to do it for him.