Thursday, April 16, 2020

The Drama Club-Part 3 (The Chameleon- Finale) blog post #385
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Well, it’s make or break time. We left our two players last week in the loft over the stage at Thespian Hall saying thing and making promises that might have hidden meanings. Let’s see what happens next.

Part 3: THE CHAMELEON (Finale)

Opening night was a howling success. The actors and singers and dancers brought more patrons than old Thespian Hall could handle. It was standing room only. Jarrod watched from above as Brett paced the wings nervously before the opening. Precisely at eight o’clock, Jarrod pressed the switch that brought up the curtain and hit the first of his light settings. No one was on stage, a gaudy, revolving light show opened the show. It received an ovation.
Brett danced like a pro, drawing the best out of his fellow troupers. The chorus never hit a sour note, and that was almost true of the solo acts. Jarrod’s heart nearly burst with pride for all of them. And he turned his magic loose in the last act, almost overpowering the finale with his bursts of color and light and shade and dizzying swirls of bright hues. The crowd was on its feet for curtain call after curtain call. When Ms. Atherton called him out of the superstructure for a bow, Jarrod came down the rope in the full view of everyone.
At the cast party afterward, Jarrod was as an awkward and ungainly star. The actors and the dancers and singers were supposed to be receiving accolades, not a lighting director for cripes sake! In a way he liked it, in another way, it embarrassed him. As soon as he could, he slipped away, thinking he would go to bed.
Instead, his feet led him to Thes Hall. He used his key to enter from the rear and walked across the boards of the stage. It was dark except for the background lighting he always left burning. His footsteps echoed hollowly. Momentarily, he relived the previous giddy hours, then realized that he was blue. The greatest night of is life and neither Rick nor Kahn was here to share it. Rick wouldn’t have understood, but Kahn would have. Desperately, he wished for the Asian boy. He could almost feel his golden presence.
Climbing the rope, he sat in the easy chair and stared down at the semi-dark stage. Thoughts of Kahn and memories of Brett dancing athletically across the stage stirred him, but a sound from below stayed his hand. Brett walked out of the darkness and paused in the center of the stage. He did a short tap and flippantly waved to the loft.
“You left too soon,” he called.
“Aw, that’s not for me.”
“Loner!” Brett accused.
“Chameleon!” Jarrod shot back. They both laughed.
Brett came up the prudent way, on the ladder. “You know I oughta be tired, but I’m not. Too keyed up! I feel like dancing!”
“Dancing! You’ve been dancing for hours.”
‘Yeah, but I wanna hold June close while we move to the music. You know, slow, old-fashioned dancing. And I want you to come too.”
“Thanks, but no thanks. Maybe some other time.”
Brett walked to the radio and snapped it on. “No way. We’ll have another lesson or two and then we’ll go. Won’t take no for an answer. Tonight’s no time to be a hermit.”
Before Jarrod could protest, Brett grasped him by the hand and pulled him to his chest. “Remember what you learned last time?”
‘Yeah,” Jarrod managed to get out, remembering the two of them standing pressed together intimately.
The number was another slow one. Jarrod worried as he started to react to Brett’s warm body but decided to hell with it. Brett ignored his condition if he was aware of it. Then the music haunting, sad. This time it was Jarrod who put his arms around Brett and pulled him close. It was he who pressed Brett’s head in the hollow of his own neck. His hands slid down and cupped Brett’s buttocks. He spread his stance so that Brett danced between his legs. Rampant. He pressed against the dancer’s groin. Once again, Brett had  one one of his chameleon shifts, he  drew his head back; causing Jarrod to lift his. Those strange, magnificent eyes caught the faint light in the loft. Jarrod leaned forward, fitting his lips to Brett’s. Jarrod sensed the other boy’s shock, but Brett did not pull away. Continuing to move to the seductive music, Bret slowly softened his lips and parted them. Jarrod’s tongue brushed the enamel of his teeth, then forced their way inside his mouth.
Brett moaned and surrendered, allowing Jarrod his way. Moments later, his responded, entwining, thrusting.  The song ended and something wild came on, but they ignored it, continuing to shuffle slowly, arms about one another. When they were at the edge of the mattress, Jarrod disentangled, and laid the other boy on his back.
“You’re strong,” Brett murmured. He still seemed to be somewhere else, but that ended when Jarrod started pulling Brett’s sweater over his head.
“Jarrod, we can’t!” But he raised his hands, and Jarrod saw the naked torso of his friend for the first time. It wasn’t a jock’s torso like Rick’s or a gymnast’s like Kahn’s, but it was long and lean with finely defined muscles… a dancer’s torso. Brett continued to mumble as Jarrod undressed him.
Brett’s torso was hairless; his bush, brown with reddish highlights in the dim light. Jarrod lay beside the other youth and placed a hand across his chest.
“If you really mean no, Brett, tell me now.”
Brett turned his head and looked at him. “You won’t like me anymore.”
Jarrod didn’t answer. He leaned over and kissed Brett deeply. Tenderly touching his lips to Brett’s forehead and lids and cheeks and nose and chin, working his way slowly down the long, smooth body. Brett lay motionless, allowing Jarrod his way. Then, with a sigh, he stretched his long frame and scissored his legs. His hand found Jarrod’s head and rested there as Jarrod worked over him. All too soon Brett gasped and rose to meet him with his hips as he reached orgasm. Long after it was over, Jarrod continued to caress the spent boy’s torso.
Eventually, Jarrod rose to his knees, a little afraid of the dancer’s reaction. It was nothing like he expected. Brett reached for him, hesitated a few moments, and then reciprocated. Jarrod closed his eyes and imagined Rick and Kahn, before opening them to view the reality of Bret working to pleasure him. The sight was more than he could stand. He exploded. He remained as he was on his knees savoring the maagnicifent moment, aware of Bret’s hands stroking the inside of his thighs.
Neither said a word as Jarrod rose and strode to his small bathroom for a rag and warm water. Brett lay with an arm across his eyes while Jarrod washed him clean. When they were both clean, Brett made as if to rise.
“No!” Jarrod said, pulling him back down on the mattress and covering them with a soft blanket. “Stay awhile.”
“Didn’t think you’d want me to,” Brett said shortly.
“Why not? Why would you think that?”
He didn’t,” Brett said after a pause. “There was only one. A guy back home. Grew up with him. Though he liked me, but as soon as he came, he was gone. Never was the same between us after that.”
“I’m not like that, Brett. I want to be with you. Will you stay awhile?”
“If you want me to,” Brett said, settling himself more comfortably. “Are you sorry we did it?”
“No! I’ve wanted to since last year.”
“I don’t believe that. You were too wrapped up in Kahn.” Jarrod’s surprise must have been evident. “I suspected. Like I said, Kahn was up here a lot. And…well, I could understand that. He was a good guy. What I couldn’t understand was Rick.”
Jarrod’s mouth dropped. “You knew about Rick, too?”
“Yeah. But only because I was interested in you. As soon as I saw you, I thought about my friend at home. But Rick was such an asshole, I figured you must be too. But Kahn was a good guy, so maybe I was wrong.” A hand rubbed Jarrod’s chest lightly. “I was wrong.”
They fell asleep after an hour of sharing feelings and getting to know one another. In the deep of the night, Jarrod woke to find Brett watching him through those strange eyes. Uncertain… he hesitated. Until Brett smiled and reached for him once more.

I guess Jarrod’s junior year is going to be a good one. Seems like Brett is a keeper. His reluctance was more of a fear of rejection than unwillingness. Apparently, an older boy back in Brett’s juvie years used him and then threw him away. Oh, well, we’ve all been there, haven’t we? And it worked out okay for Jarrod... and I hope for you.

Until next week.

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