dontravis.com
blog post #393
Hope
the reader who prompted me to write something about the pandemic enjoyed my
story, COVID Closet. Doubtless he’ll let me know soon enough. The last I heard
from him after the prior installment is that I was a “tease.” Okay, I admit it.
I am.
I’ve
had some requests for more of Jarrod Gray and the Drama Club at Casa Verde
College, In
earlier
posts, we’ve seen Jarrod with the football rough who thought he could dominate,
with Kahn, the lithe Asian with whom Jarrod could have fallen in love, and with
the Chameleon. Alas, they only last so long as they are in college. This year,
it’s Jarrod’s senior year, so he’s the one who’ll be leaving at the end of the
term. So let’s take a look at Jarrod and the new Drama Coach, Thad Reid.
*****
THE DRAMA CLUB
THE COACH
Upon his return to Casa Verde College for his
senior year, Jarrod Gray learned Ms. Atherton, his Drama Club coach, had
retired. Downer! He’d earned his place as Lighting Director under Ms. Atherton
and wasn’t interested in breaking in a new drama teacher.
He was sitting third row center in Thespian
Hall Theater at the Drama Club’s first meeting when he got the second shock of
the term. The new coach was a man. A handsome man. A drop-dead, handsome young
man. Thad Reid probably hadn’t even seen thirty. What was going on? Casa Verde
was a small, expensive college with a strong drama department built by people
like Ms. Atherton. Why risk that reputation with a kid barely older than the
students?
Thad Reid stood five-eleven and weighed in at
around one-seventy-five. His shaggy, sable hair, which sometimes looked black, kept
falling over his forehead like a damned kid’s. But his voice wasn’t a kid’s; it
was deep and booming as if always projecting from a stage. Broad in the
shoulder, trim in the waist, the coach looked like a darker version of Barbie’s
Ken. But he didn’t move like Ken; GI Joe was more like it, graceful but loaded
with testosterone. Big brown eyes swept the gathered members of the club,
captivating every female in the group.
After dismissing the meeting, the new coach called
for Jarrod and a couple of others to remain behind. Once the set decorator and
cue coach were dispensed with, Reid turned the force of his personality on
Jarrod. “Ms. Atherton had great things to say about you. You’ll continue lighting
for the club this year again… unless there’s something else you want to try.”
“No, sir. That’s my bag.”
“So I understand. However, this is your senior
year, and we need to provide for the future. I’m assigning you an assistant so
you can show him the ropes.”
Jarrod frowned. Accustomed to running his own
show from the control panel, he feared another student in the loft would
complicate… things. “Uh, nobody taught me, that is—”
“I know. But you had high school and amateur
summer stock experience. No one in the group has a similar history. At any
rate, I wanted you to know you’ll have company in the attic this year.”
“Uh… thanks,” Jarrod responded, trying not to
notice the light sprinkle of hair that showed at the coach’s open collar. A lot
of body hair was a turn-off, but a little was nice. But he didn’t want to be
turned on by a guy converting him into a babysitter.
Reid’s method of teaching was different too. The
students spent more time in the classroom and less in the theater. Unimpressed
by the changes, Jarrod did approve of the three plays selected for
production this season: a drama, a dark comedy, and a mind-piece. Shoot, did
the club have enough talent to pull them off? He was not enamored of his peers.
Bobby Lyles, the baby-faced, blond freshman
from the Midwest that Jarrod was given as an assistant, acted like he was hot
shit because he’d been in a couple of high school plays. The guy was impressed by
the setup on his first visit to the loft, but Jarrod soon figured out that was
because of the easy chair, mattress, small refrigerator, and stereo Jarrod had
collected over the years. When Jarrod showed the kid the lighting panel he’d
largely constructed himself, Billy stared at it like he’d never seen one
before.
Because Jarrod spent most of his time in the
theater when not in class, Bobby—shit, he even sounded like a kid—took to
hanging around. Jarrod grudgingly admitted the blond with the pretty face and
trim butt asked reasonably intelligent questions. Within a week, Bobby had
dropped the attitude and opened his mind to learning. He even got to be halfway
likeable. Within a week, Jarrod figured the kid was frantically looking for a
girlfriend but was so picky few could meet his standards. As a result, he was
beginning to show signs of frustration.
“How about it, Jar?”—Bobby insisted on
shortening Jarrod’s name.—“How many gals you laid on this?” The freshman patted
the mattress he was sitting on.
Jarrod looked up from his English Lit text. “None.”
“Come on, bro! Then why’s it here?”
Jarrod looked over and met the big blue eyes. “It’s
where I give blowjobs to a select few.” Although it was perfectly true, he said
it in a flippant tone.
Bobby’s frowned. “No crap! You give many?”
“Enough,” Jarrod returned to his text, leaving
the guy frowning.
Over the course of the next week he almost got
used to the freshman, but every once in a while, Bobby would manage to get to
him. One afternoon he came up behind Jarrod as he was walking across the stage.
“You’re shitting me about the mattress, aren’t
you?”
Jarrod stopped and turned to face the
fresh-faced kid, noticing that his biceps looked pretty good. In fact, so did the
rest of him. Bobby’s slight frame hid a good physique. “Why are you so interested?
You angling for one?”
Bobby’s eyes bugged. “Well…no. Hell, no! What do
you think I am, a pansy?”
“I don’t know what you are.” Jarrod spun on his
heel and walked to a rope hanging from the ceiling. A hand-over-hand climb was his
way in and out of the lighting booth, even though there were two ladders and a
freight elevator available. After climbing—using just his arms—Jarrod looked
down on Bobby standing on the stage below.
When the kid saw Jarrod was watching, he
grabbed the rope and made it to the loft, but it was obviously an effort. He
collapsed on his back atop the mattress and lay panting. Jarrod was suddenly
interested.
“You find a girlfriend yet?” he asked.
“These college chicks are so snooty, you
wouldn’t believe it. How about you? You got a girlfriend?”
“Got better things to do than waste time on
them.” Jarrod moved over beside the freshman sprawled on the mattress. “You getting
all hot and bothered remembering what I said the other day?”
“Hey, man! I’m no queer.”
“You think every guy looking for a little
relief is queer?” Jarrod asked.
Bobby didn’t answer. He just swallowed hard and
laid a forearm across his eyes. Jarrod knelt and ran his hand up the kid’s legs.
Bobby flinched. Jarrod froze… until the kid relaxed. Then he went about
pursuing what he wanted, moving slowly so as not to panic his partner. Bobby
kept still and silent for ten minutes, then he let out a loud moan and went
into a frenzy of muscular contractions.
As Bobby worked through his orgasm, Jarrod heard
a slight noise but stayed with the boy until it was over. Then he turned toward
the ladder behind him in time to see a dark head disappear.
After it was over, Bobby scrambled to cover
himself. His eyes moved restlessly, not focusing on anything. He acted like he
didn’t know what to say. Within minutes, he scampered down the ladder. Jarrod
took the rope and was standing on the stage when the boy reached the bottom,
damned near scaring Bobby out of a year’s growth.
After the freshman fled, Jarrod searched the
building. No one there. But there had been, and Jarrod thought he knew who.
*****
Did Jarrod get caught blowing
a freshman? It certainly looks like that’s the case. Will there be
repercussions?
Until next week.
The following are buy
links for the recently released The Voxlightner Scandal.
Barnes
& Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-voxlightner-scandal-don-travis/1132632844?ean=9781640809260
Now
my mantra: Keep on reading and keep on
writing. You have something to say, so say it!
My
personal links: (Note the change in the Email address because I’m still getting
remarks on the old dontravis21@gmail.com. PLEASE DON’T USE
THAT ONE.)
Facebook:
www.facebook.com/donald.travis.982
Twitter:
@dontravis3
Buy
links to Abaddon’s Locusts:
See
you next week.
Don
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