Boarding School (38 page)

“Now drink, ya little bastards!” The head waiter this time issued the command in a way which expressed what we believed to be his true attitude toward us.

Without any argument, the four of us did as we were told and began to take rapid gulps of our fifths. A short while later, once we were all on the brink of passing out once again, the bigger kids—feeling impatient with our slow progress I guess—assumed control over us. Suddenly a hand pulled my bottle away from me while other hands guided my upper body down until I was lying on my back on the floor. I then felt these same hands begin to undo my belt and unhook and unzip my pants. And while I watched in my drunkenness as my clothing was pulled away from my body, I happened to look over at my friends and notice that they two were being undressed.

“Since some of them are still wet, just throw all the clothes into the kitchen,” the leader instructed. A minute or so later, all four of us were lying naked on the carpet.

“Ok,” the leader continued. “Little guys sit up again, and big guys feed ’em some more of their bottles.”

This time, after the hands had helped me to sit up again, I felt one of them hold on suddenly to the back of my head while the other tried to force me to down the remaining half bottle or so of bourbon which I hadn’t been able yet to consume. Of course as soon as I felt the alcohol enter my mouth, I began to drink it, but in a few moments the inevitable happened and I began to choke on it and spit it out. But this time, the hands didn’t give me a break. As soon as I had regained myself and had stopped coughing, the hands again forced me to drink more.

Enough already!
I remember thinking to myself as the bigger kids kept up their efforts to force even more liquor into me. And it wasn’t just me who was being put through this hell. I could hear the others around me choking and sagging as they too were force-fed their alcohol. Eventually, I guess, the upperclassmen grew tired of this game, and left us alone. But as we sat there with bourbon spilled all over our faces and torsos, I don’t think any of us were surprised by what they made us do next.

“Now we’re gonna have you boys form a square on the carpet with your bodies. So U.S. kids lay down parallel to each other on your backs but separate out a little bit and Matt… you face the other way. And then Juan, you lay down on your stomach perpendicular to the U.S. boys at one end of them, and then shove your dick into Clint’s mouth and take Matt’s dick into yours. And then Carlos… you lay down like Juan but at the other end of the U.S. boys and face the other way so you can put your dick into Matt’s mouth and then take up Clint’s dick into your mouth. Ha, ha, ha!” The leader then began to give his drunken laugh again.

In our trashed conditions, these instructions were complicated for us to follow. But with the help of the upperclassmen, we eventually got our bodies and penises arranged in the ways the leader had ordered. And as I waited for the next order to be given, I realized that we were all about to get to know each other a whole lot better.

“Ok, now go down on each other, and don’t stop until you all cum.” And then the leader laughed again. In fact, this time the leader led the entire room in laughter. They were now clearly amused by the spectacle we were making of ourselves.

At the same time I felt Carlos take my penis into his mouth, I could feel Juan searching for my lips. When he got close, I opened my mouth and took him in to save time. And then we all began to do what we had been trained so well to do, and our first ever foursome was begun. As always the crowd around us yelled and cheered as we all worked to arouse one another. And eventually, despite the fact that we all had to fight to stay conscious long enough to get our jobs done, we all ejaculated into the mouth of the boy lying close by.

“Stay where you are,” a voice said once we had all finished. Blankets were then draped over us and the lights in the room were turned off. It was obvious to us then that we were expected to go to sleep this way. And considering how drunk we all were by this point, it was no problem for us to do as expected. So a few minutes later, after a little bit of adjustment so I wouldn’t wind up with one of Juan’s legs lying across my throat, we had all fallen asleep where we lay.

“Hey, how ’bout shootin’ a few hoops with me?” Frank asked as I passed through the basketball court in front of my dorm one afternoon after classes.

“Naw, not today, Frank,” I answered.

“Oh, come on, Adams. What do ya have to do this afternoon that’s so important, anyway? Ya quit the soccer team didn’t ya?”

“Yeah,” I replied.

“So come on!” With that Frank passed the basketball to me.

Instantly I dropped my books onto the small lawn in front of my dorm and caught the ball.
Why the hell not,
I thought.
I haven’t done anything like this for too long.
“Ok, you’re on,” I said. And then I dribbled over to the backboard and made a layup.

“Not bad, not bad.” Frank then took the ball back to the foul line and waited for me to set myself up to defend against him. “But let’s see if you can keep me from doing this!” Frank then ran past me and made his shot as if I hadn’t been there.

“Not bad,” I said a little winded. “But I’ll show you how it’s really done.” I then took the ball back to the spot where Frank had started and prepared to make my drive for the basket. A moment later I was off, but Frank got me all tangled up and was able to take the ball away from me and sink his own shot.

“Ya know we’re supposed to get betta as we get olda, not worse,” Frank said in his native Brooklyn tongue.

“I’m just warmin’ up,” I said out of breath. In the past weeks my jaw and my neck had gotten stronger, but the rest of my body had apparently fallen apart. “Just take the ball out and let’s go, wise guy.” Even though I was breathing hard, I didn’t want to let on that I was already wanting to stop playing.

“Hey, what did ya get on that English assignment today?” Frank asked as he blew past me again.

“I don’t know. An F I guess.” It was my turn now and instead of trying to fancy foot my way around Frank, I decided to try a shot from way outside. “An F? Didn’t you used to get A’s?” Frank set himself up to block my shot. “Yeah, I guess.” I took my shot and missed the rim by a mile. “You guess?” Frank then ran over into the lawn in front of the headmaster’s house to retrieve the ball.

“Yeah, I don’t know. I guess I just didn’t get the assignment. That’s all.” I was starting to feel as if Frank was putting me through some sort of an inquisition.

“Bullshit!” Frank was never one to mince words. He now was standing in front of me with the ball in his hands. He had a look of frustration on his face and it was obvious that he wanted to say something to me. “Somethin’s goin’ with you, Adams, and your roommate too. Both of youz have changed. Neither of you two are doin’ nothin’ anymore. You know I like you, Adams. You’re a kid from the suburbs, but I always thought you were all right. Matt too. But now both of youz are turning your lives into shit, and I can’t figure out why.”

“I don’t know what you mean, Frank.” Now I wanted to leave. It had become obvious to me long ago that Frank was one of the students at the Academy who was not in the confidence of the upperclassmen. And my masters had very strict rules about not telling outsiders about our activities. “Come on, Frank, are we gonna play ball or not?”

“We’re not!” Frank answered abruptly. “Adams, you’re really pissin’ me off. You’ve got everythin’ goin’ for ya, and you’re blowin’ it. You’re blowin’ it big time, and I can’t figure out why. But I will.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Frank.”

“Don’t give me that,” Frank countered.

“I don’t,” I tried again.

“I said don’t give me that, Adams! Jeeze!”

I then took a step closer to my friend and lowered my voice. “Leave it alone, Frank. Really. It’s no big deal. I’m just goin’ through a phase, or somethin’. That’s all.” I was trying to deflect his attention from the real problems I was facing.

Frank was now fed up with my answers. “Bullshit, Adams. Bullshit! That’s a load of crap and you know it.” Frank then turned and began to walk away from me. “You go on and keep fuckin’ up your life. But don’t stand there and insult my intelligence by tellin’ me that you’re goin’ through a phase. That’s bullshit, Adams, and you know it.” And then he walked around the front corner of Ulster Hall and was gone.

I was surprised that the changes in me were so transparent to my friend. I actually hadn’t thought that anyone had been able to notice.

So with no reason to stay on the court any longer, I picked up my books so I could continue on into my dorm. But as I began to walk again, I could hear Frank’s voice carrying on the breeze from the front steps of Ulster Hall.

“And you suck at basketball too!”

Thanksgiving was too short of a holiday for me to go to Europe to see my folds, and Matt’s aunt was just as happy not to have him under foot that weekend. She was apparently on the hunt after a ski instructor in Aspen whom she believed might marry her as long as she didn’t let on too soon that she was encumbered by a kid. Also by now, our full-fledged cocaine addictions called into question any number of logistical concerns over how we could manage to keep ourselves high while not giving anything away to our loved ones once we were with them again. So Mr. Stuart had assured my parents and Matt’s aunt that he would see to it personally that we were both sent home with a nice Academy family to spend the holiday with. And so, on the Wednesday night before Thanksgiving, after we had finished up our duties at the Friendly Inn, Matt and I found ourselves in a car headed for Boston to spend Thanksgiving with Fatso and Sweetie.

We had been up to see them several times since the first night we had met them, and in a strange way they were beginning to seem like surrogate parents to us. During the ride, though, I took some time to open a letter I had received from my real parents. In it I was stunned to read my mother’s congratulations for having gotten all A’s on my midterms.

“Huh!” I grunted under my breath. Then I folded up the letter again and put it back into my pocket.

“Well there you are! Come in, come in,” Sweetie said as we walked through the front door of their penthouse a little later on that night. She then raced over to give each of us a big lip sticky kiss on our mouths. “Take off your coats. You boys must be starving by now. I’ve got a casserole all ready for you and keeping warm in the oven. So just come right on into the kitchen and take your places at the table.”

It was late when we had finally arrived at their apartment that night, so after dinner, Matt and I climbed into the double bed in their guest room and went right to sleep. Fatso and Sweetie knew that we had been working hard all afternoon and evening, so they didn’t ask us to do anything with them that night. Also, Matt and I always left each other alone on the days we worked.

The next morning, we got up early and prepared ourselves to fly to Florida so all four of us could spend the rest of the holiday together at Fatso and Sweetie’s house down there. As soon as we had finished breakfast and had taken our showers—Matt and I had decided to use Fatso’s big shower at the same time, but because we had a schedule to keep, they left us alone that morning too—we were off to Logan Field. During our journey to the fixed base operator where Fatso kept his Lear Jet, I asked him about Carlos and Juan. He told me then that because they too could not return to Venezuela for only a few days, our friends had wound up going to spend their weekend with Joe at his house just outside of town. After hearing this, Matt and I looked at each other and knew that we were getting the better deal.

By this time we had learned that Fatso was a successful businessman in Boston and that he owned a pretty good-sized company there. I never found out the name of his firm or what type of business it was, but Fatso seemed to be well known around town because he and Sweetie were always going out to benefits and other social events in the area. It was also clear to us that his legitimate business interests made it possible for Fatso to pursue his not so legitimate interests like child prostitution and the cocaine trade.

Fatso had a car waiting for us when we landed in Ft. Meyers. Once our luggage was all loaded into the trunk, he then took us directly to a local restaurant for a full Thanksgiving dinner. It was actually one of the best Thanksgiving meals I had ever eaten. The management at the restaurant apparently knew Fatso and when he was asked if we were his sons, he explained that we were actually his nephews who were down from Portland. So immediately Matt tried to sound as if he was from Bar Harbor.

After our noon dinner, we all piled back into the car and Fatso drove us straight to a nearby marina where a fifty-foot Daytona with a flying bridge— which he apparently owned—was tied up and ready for us to board. I loved the ocean and boats. Besides the trips we had taken to Cape Cod, my dad and I had done some pleasure boating up and down the Inter Coastal between Miami and West Palm Beach over on the east coast of Florida. So I felt right at home when I stepped onto that deck, and I was eager to help with the lines when the time came for us to shove off.

“Where are we goin’?” Matt asked once we had cleared the harbor and could increase our speed.

“Captiva!” Fatso answered as he nudged the throttles forward a bit more. “That’s where our house is.”

“Where’s Captiva?” Matt had never heard of the place.

“It’s an island off the west coast of Florida. It won’t take us long to get there.” Fatso really seemed to love to pilot his boat. It was funny to see him in the skipper’s hat he was wearing because it covered his bald head so thoroughly.

“It’s a lovely place,” Sweetie added. “I’m sure you’re both going to love it there.”

After a while, when there was nothing more to see but the water that was all around us, Matt asked if he could go exploring through the boat.

“Sure!” Fatso said appreciatively. “I’d show you myself, but I can’t leave the wheel right now. But Clint, you know boats. You go ahead and take Matt on a tour. Ok?”