Showing posts with label Gay discovery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Gay discovery. Show all posts

Thursday, June 18, 2020

DRAMA CLUB – The Coach (Part 2 of 3 Parts)

dontravis.com blog post #394

Theatrical Spot Lights
Last week, Jarrod Gray got caught servicing a freshman in the lighting loft at Casa Verde College’s Thespian Hall. This week, we’ll see the price he has to pay for such shenanigans.

*****
THE DRAMA CLUB

THE COACH

Nothing happened for three days except that Bobby didn’t come around to bother him. On Friday, the drama coach sent for him.
“Hello, Jarrod,” Thad Reid responded cordially to his knock. “Have a seat.” Jarrod sat and waited wordlessly. He was impressed by the coach’s cool. “I’m taking Bobby Lyles out of the booth and assigning him to sets, okay?”
“Fine,” Jarrod said calmly. “Who are you sending upstairs?”
“Let’s get through the first production and worry about that later.”
“Sure. Whatever.” Jarrod hesitated. “He ask to be reassigned?”
“Well, yes. Felt he’d do better backstage on the sets. Guess one of his buddies is on sets and scenery.”
“Yeah, sure. That all?”
“No. When someone does his job well, I don’t like to interfere… but I’d like you to remove that mattress. Probably the easy chair, too. Give the loft more of a professional air.”
“They’ve been there for three years, Mr. Reid. I spend a lot of time up there working on control panels, setting up new lights. Sometimes I need to study, so I use the chair. When I need to rest, I use the mattress.” Jarrod clamped his jaws shut. “You tell me to bring them down, I will. But I’m asking you not to. I need them.”
“Son,” the term didn’t fall from Thad Reid’s lips gracefully, “college is about more than just classes. You need to develop socially, not just academically. There’s more to your world than the lighting of a stage production."
“I don’t care about any of that stuff.”
“Someday you will. Thanks for stopping by.”
Jarrod left the coach’s office confused. He was certain Reid had seen him servicing Billy Lyles. Yet all he’d done was reassign the freshman and ask him to remove the mattress from the loft. It didn’t look like he was going to make a federal case out of what he’d witnessed.
Figuring he was lucky to have gotten off so lightly, Jarrod went about his business. Then one day, as the club began working on the first play, he ran across Reid on the Thespian Theater’s stage. They exchanged greetings before Jarrod ascended to the loft by the rope.
A few minutes later, he noticed the rope going taut and beginning to jump as someone on the other end ascended. In no time, Coach Reid stepped onto the stage.
“Neat way to get up here.” Reid wasn’t even puffing hard.
“Quickest too.”
“Thanks for getting rid of the mattress. You understand why, don’t you?”
“I just stowed it away in a closet at the back. If I’m gonna sleep over, I’ll haul it out temporarily,” Jarrod responded a little defiantly
“No reason to sleep in the theater, is there?”
“Sometimes when there’s a play on, I work on changing the lamps at night. It’s easier to sack out there. Wrestling them around and getting them bolted in place is hard work sometimes.”
“And you do it all alone?”
Yes, sir. Always have.”
‘Well, if you need assistance, let me know.” Coach Reid changed the subject. “Have you read the play yet?”
“Few times. Blocked out some ideas for lighting although I gotta see the sets before I can bring anything to you.”
“Good. Tryouts start next week, and I want the stage backlit softly with a highlight halo in the foreground. No spot. No filters. Just plain light.” The man rushed on in front of Jarrod’s objection. “I know, you usually work the lights and make everyone look as good as you can. And I understand you’re scrupulously fair about it. But I want to judge the raw material. I’ll narrow the field and have a second round of tryouts. Then you can do your thing. Okay?”
 “Makes sense. Sure, I’ll do that. You’re the boss.”
Reid left shortly after that, departing the way he came. Jarrod watched him cross the stage, noting the power and grace of the man’s movements. A little shiver ran down his back.
An hour later, he looked up from rewiring a portion of the control panel to see the rope dancing again. His heartbeat increased at the thought of Reid paying him a second visit. To his surprise, Bobby Lyles stepped onto the loft platform. Jarrod smiled. The kid had made the climb easier this time. He nodded his greeting as Bobby stood there uncertainly.
“Hi. You doing okay?”
Jarrod nodded. “Fine. What are you up to?”
“Just wanted to check the place out. Haven’t seen much of you lately.”
“See you in class,” Jarrod said.
“Yeah. Look, Jarrod, I didn’t fink on you. Mr. Reid found out about what we did some other way.”
“I know. He came up the ladder and saw us.”
Bobby’s fair skin reddened. “He… he saw us?”
“Yeah. Don’t worry. All he had me do was remove the mattress. That’s the price I paid.”
“So you don’t have any place to….” Billy turned scarlet again. “You know.”
Jarrod indicated the worn overstuffed chair. “Sure I do. He asked me to remove the chair too, but I didn’t. Apparently he’s okay with that because he was up here and didn’t say anything.”
An awkward moment passed before Jarrod spoke up. “You plop that trim butt of yours in the chair, and I’ll know what you really came up here for.”
Billy met his gaze briefly before his glance slid away. But he covered the distance in three steps and settled into the chair.
Jarrod stood in front of him. “Take your shirt off.”
“W-what if he comes back.”
“He just left. He won’t be back. If he does, he’ll just make me get rid of the chair.”
Billy licked his lips before shimmying out of his shirt.
Nice. Good pecs. No six pack, but the belly was trim.
“Now the pants.”
“But what if someone else comes up?”
“No one else has come up here in three years unless I asked them up.”
Billy stood and dropped his trousers, revealing he was ready.
Jarrod knelt and gave the frosh what he wanted so desperately.

*****
What was the punishment? Stowing away the mattress Jarrod had had in the loft for three years. How will he survive without the mattress? Oh, yeah. There was the easy chair, wasn’t there? But the tale isn’t finished yet. Check it out next week.

Until then.

The following are buy links for the recently released The Voxlightner Scandal.


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

Thursday, May 7, 2020

Liam (Part 2 of a 2 Part Story)


dontravis.com blog post #387

Courtesy of rawpixel.com
Last week we met Tommy Zachus and his idol Liam Spotsworth. We watched as Tommy, struggling to become Tom, adored his hero from afar, drinking in stories of Liam’s exploits with women and dreaming of something. What he didn’t know. Until the two cowboys went skinny dipping one day.

What more can possibly happen now? Read on.

*****
LIAM
          The summer turned strange and wonderful. I had no trouble getting out of bed because Liam would be waiting for me. We were a team. A damned good team. And he taught me about… me. Wednesday of the next week, he drove to the pond at the end of the shift without asking. This time, we didn’t swim, merely washed away the day’s sweat and grime and then took to the blanket. He showed me what he liked and what he didn’t. Friday, we did it again. And that became the pattern. Wednesdays and Fridays were ours. I never asked what he did on the weekends in town, and he never told me stories again.
          As the summer neared its end, he invited me to spend Friday night with him at the line shack, a place where the hands overnighted during gatherings… what the cowboy movies call roundups.
          After showering, I made up a story about spending the weekend with a school buddy in town and drove the GMC out onto the highway, turned toward town, and took a back gate onto the ranch. Liam was already at the shack. He’d come straight here after our shift—we’d skipped the “swim”—to clean up the place and cook some stew for our supper. I got out of my truck trembling with anticipation. How would this differ from our swims?
          Seeing Liam setting out the fixin’s for our meal clutched at my heart. It felt full and near to busting. My man was waiting on me. And that’s the way I thought about it. My man. And what a man. Rangy, lean muscles, unruly black hair, blue eyes, a laughing mouth, and as handsome as any man or woman I’d ever set eyes on.
          “Just in time,” he said. “Set yourself down for some Spotsworth stew. You’re cleaning up afterward.”
          My voice almost got stuck behind my heart. “Glad to.” I threw my leg over the back of the chair and took a seat like a proper cowboy. We finished a good meal without talking. As he pushed away his empty plate, he eyed me across the table.
          “You’re a damned good-looking guy,” he observed.
          “Me? You’re—”
          “We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you. You are, Tom. You’re handsome and sexy. And I’m damned lucky you do what you do for me. Just wanted you to know I appreciate it.”
          I swallowed hard. He’d called me Tom. “Welcome. It’s something I want to do for you. I… I really like it. But with you. Not with anybody else.”
          His smile almost rendered me into a pile of melted tallow. He winked. “Tonight, we’re gonna take things a little ways down the road.”
          My heart jumped. What did that mean.
          “I’m getting real fond of you, Tom.”
          Wow! I love you, dude. But you’d never say that, would you. You’d say “fond.” I blinked. “Me too, Liam. Real fond.”
          He stood and held out his hand. “I’ll help you with the dishes later. Right now, I’ve got other things on my mind.”
          I took his hand and followed him into the bunk room. He’d turned down the covers on the biggest bed and put two lighted candles on little tables on either side of it. Hues from the western sunset splashed against the closed blinds, giving the semi-dark room a dreamlike, romantic quality. The world was silent except for the thudding of my heart.
         Beside the bed, he turned to me and brushed my hand away from my shirt buttons. He undressed me himself, and for the first time took me in hand. He grinned, elfin this time.
          “And that’s nice too. Your turn.”
          I undressed Liam Spotsworth and shivered with anticipation as he pulled me to him and kissed me. We’d never kissed before, and I was shocked by my reaction. I felt it down to my toes. My knees went weak again. Chill bumps puckered my back. My core burned with hot flames.
          Wordlessly, Liam laid me on the bed and crawled between my knees. Candlelight sent dancing shadows across his features. Entranced, I did not resist as he raised my knees and came to me. I wasn’t even aware of the pain as he entered me, merely joy at watching this man’s man—my man—claim me as the center of his world.
          I don’t know how long it was before I began to feel things within myself. A pleasure I’d never experienced flowered deep inside me. The electricity of his legs against my thighs. The heat of him exciting my insides. And finally, the ecstasy of an unassisted ejaculation just as he reached his own orgasm. And then the joy of a shared “little death” that the French write about. I knew from his eyes, it has been as wonderful for Liam as it had been for me.
          We spent the weekend at the line shack to share our time, take walks, and make love. Sunday evening before we made ready to go, he took me to bed again. After entry, he hesitated above me.
          “I won’t be here when you wake up tomorrow,” he said, his voice low in his throat.
          “Course not. We’ll be at ranch headquarters.”
          “You will. I won’t.”
          “What do you mean?”
          “I joined the army, Tom. I report tomorrow.”
          “What! Why?”
          His smile held sadness. “You’ll be off to NMSU in a week or so.”
          “But—”
          “Besides, I’ve grown too fond of you, Tom.”
          I stared into his eyes and took the plunge. “I love you, Liam.”
          He chucked me under the chin. “I think that’s what I just said, dumbo.”
          “I-is that a bad thing, Liam?
          “To some people it is.
          And then he made love to me for the last time.

*****
I’d say the summer led to a great deal more than where we left off last week. It led to genuine feelings between the two young men. But as is so often true… life got in the way. Alas. I wonder how the two of them fared beyond this point.

Let me know how you liked the story.

Until next week.

The following are buy links for the recently released The Voxlightner Scandal.


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

Thursday, April 30, 2020

Liam (Part 1 of a 2 Part Story)


dontravis.com blog post #387
  
Courtesy of rawpixel.com
Man, did I get some reactions to last week’s “If Only….” Glad I could stir some memories for you.

This week, our story takes you to a northern New Mexico ranch to meet a couple of young men, one sheltered, the other experienced. Tell me what you think of Liam Spotsworth and Tommy Zachus
*****
LIAM

          I wished I was Liam Spotsworth, but I wasn’t. Liam was a curly-headed cowboy on the J-Bar-Z; I was Tommy Zachus, the ranch owner’s son. He was edging toward twenty; I’d just landed on eighteen. He was a man’s man; I was wary of them. He chased—and caught—women; I was afraid of them. I’d been raised on our northern New Mexico ranch; he hailed from somewhere in Montana and had been everywhere. I’d been nowhere. He was handsome—heck, he was beautiful; I was… just me.
          The summer of ’19 promised to be a good one. I’d graduated from high school—sure wouldn’t miss that 20-mile bus trip five times a week—and had opted for a 2012 GMC Terrain as a graduation present rather than a trip to Rome and Venice. Don’t know who was happier with my choice, me or my working pony, a pinto named Hopper. I drove that truck—that how I thought of the SUV—all over the ranch. Even herded a few ornery cows with it.
          But even better than that, I was teamed with Liam until I was scheduled to take off for New Mexico State over in Las Cruces this fall. Liam had only been on our spread for about six months, but he was a cowboy down to his boots and already knew more about the place than I did. And, heck, I’d been born here. Well, to be accurate, I knew the landscape better than he did, but he had more cow sense than me.
          By the end of the first week, we were down to talking about personal things. Liam stayed on the ranch for five days straight, but on Friday evenings, after he slicked up so he looked good enough to eat, he piled in his old ford F-150 and started on the ten mile trip to town. We didn’t see him again until sometime Sunday night looking a damned sight less slick and plumb wore out.
          No matter how late he got in, he was always up and at ‘em at first light Monday morning. Heck, I had more trouble dragging my fanny out of bed at that early hour, and like as not I’d stayed home the whole weekend. Then he’d spend the rest of the workweek telling me all about his previous weekend. I lapped it up, but I always wondered how he managed to do things like that to women. I mean, they were such prim things according to my thinking, but they sure didn’t come off that way in his yarns. The second week we worked together I couldn’t keep my mouth shut any longer.
          “Are you spinning me tales?” I asked right after him telling me what a rollicking good time he’d had with Marybelle Spinner.
          “Course not.”
          “That’s not the Marybelle I know. She was a year ahead of me in school, and she was the biggest prude in class.”
          He paused in tightening a strand of wire with the come along jack and looked me right in the eye. “She just needed a man to loosen her up a little. You shoulda done it before she graduated.”
          I felt myself go red in the face. “She… she was older’n me.”
          “So?” He paused again and fixed me with two eyes bluer than the broad New Mexico sky. “You ever been with a gal?”
           “Uh… sure. Dated a couple this last year.”
           “No, I mean ever been with a gal.”
          I figured my knees’d give way any minute now, and my cheeks would have fried a hen’s egg. “You mean done it with a girl?”
           He nodded as a smile broke across his handsome mouth. “Yeah. Fucked a gal.” He paused and the smile grew wider. “You haven’t, have you? You never landed one of them have you?”
          The hammer I was using to tack wire brads to fence posts grew so heavy in my hand I almost dropped it. My back pimpled so bad I thought my shirt moved. “Uh… not all the way. Not yet.”
          “Man, we gotta repair that hole in your experience.” He laughed. “How come you’re blushing?”
           “Dunno.” I had trouble getting that one word past my windpipe.
          To my relief, he let it go and we returned to stringing wire. Although I confess to snatching glances at him now and then. How would his big shoulders look while… pleasuring Marybelle? I admired the way his torso made a vee on its way to his small waist. I liked his hips flaring so they were wider than his beltline. What did those trim buttocks look like when he was throwing it to her? I had to quit thinking like that because it was beginning to show.
          We threw our tools in the back of Liam’s pickup and got in so we could move down the line to the next fence post. Like I always did, I scooted into the truck first so I could watch him slide gracefully into the seat. This time there was something different, and I gawked so much he caught me at it.
          “Sorry,” he said, adjusting his fly. “I guess talking about Marybelle got to me. Just ignore it.”
          I couldn’t believe what came out of my mouth. “Hard to.”
          He chuckled, removed his hat, and glanced over at me. “Hard. Yeah, that describes it, I guess.”
          I almost passed out as the next words came out of me without conscious thought. “I-I’ll take care of that for you.” Oh, man! Did my cheeks burn then. “If… if you want.”
          “You’d do that?”
          I willed myself to meet his gaze, noticing how his dark hair curled and looked like an unmade bunk. A handsome unmade bunk. I licked lips suddenly thick and slow. “For you I would.”
          “You ever done it for anyone else?”
          I shook my head so hard my thatch whipped around. Did it make noise like moving hay?
          “Just yourself, huh?” he pressed.
          I swallowed a lump in my throat. “Sometimes?”
          “Like every day, I’d guess.”
          “N-no. Once a week, maybe.”
          “You like it?”
          “Used to. Not so much anymore.”
          His smile sent my stomach plunging. “Outgrowing it, most likely.” He straightened in the seat and switched on the Ford’s motor.
          I was relieved… and disturbed. That kinda talk had been disturbing and… I don’t know, exhilarating all at the same time. But it was over now.
          We hadn’t moved ten yards when he clapped his hat back in place and said, “After the shift’s over, maybe we’ll mosey down to the pond and take a dip. Then we’ll see.”
          My stomach didn’t just fall away, it near disappeared. My heart pounded hard enough for me to hear.


          From then on, Liam didn’t even try to hide his condition. Sometimes he looked normal behind the fly, and sometimes he looked all puffed up. But for the last hour before we quit, there wasn’t any sign of excitement. So he’d probably forgot all about the swimming hole… and my offer.
          Finally, he squinted skyward and beat the dust from his hat against his leg. “We put in a good day’s work, kid.”
          Kid. He called me that sometimes. Other times, he called me Tommy. Wished he’d treat me like a grownup and settle on Tom.
          We stowed our tools and wire in the bed of the truck and piled in. My belly did it’s disappearing act again when Liam headed down to the pond. I was almost breathing normal when he parked along the shore. Our pond’s the only freshwater body of water on the ranch. Dad had dammed the one perpetual spring on the place years back and allowed a body of water maybe fifty yards across to build. Too bad it wasn’t near the house so we could all take a dip whenever we wanted.
          Slower getting out of the truck than Liam, he’d already dropped the blanket he grabbed from behind the seat, shucked his shirt, and kicked off his boots and denims while I was fumbling with my shirt. When he rolled off his jockeys, my legs dumped me on the ground. We were going skinny dipping. And the guy with me was as handsome as could be from top to bottom. I couldn’t measure up, but I couldn’t weasel out, either. He hit the water. So I finished stripping and scrambled into the pond, hoping he didn’t get too good a look at my skinny frame.
          When Liam heard my splash, he swam over to where I was and gave me that great smile.
          “I-I thought you forgot,” I stammered.
          He grabbed my hand and guided it to himself. “Does that feel like I forgot?” His deep baritone was throaty as hell.
          “N-no, feels more like an iron bar!”
          He laughed and pulled away to swim about twenty yards out before going underwater. I stood where I was and watched for him to reappear. But he didn’t. I’d started to fret when something grabbed me by the legs, and Liam burst up out of the water right in front of me, chest to chest, groin to groin, that iron bar probing between my legs. He rested his hands on my shoulders. I wished they were somewhere else.
          “Aren’t you going to swim?” he asked as he shook water from his eyes.
          “You bet!” I said, but I didn’t move until he swam away. Then I followed him across the pond and back, where he splashed up out of the water onto shore and spread the blanket on the ground. Water draining from him followed the contours of his muscles. I’d never seen anything so sexy.
          I crept up out of the pond, half ashamed of my condition until he turned to face me and I saw he was in the same state of excitement. Although his “state” outweighed mine, it wasn’t as bad as I feared. A shiver went down my back as his eyes raked me.
          “Nice,” he said.
          “T-thanks. But not as nice as you. You’re….”
          He sat on the blanket. “Aren’t you gonna come over here?”
          “Sure,” I gasped and got my legs to moving. I plopped down beside him as close as I dared.
          He lay back on the blanket, leaving his impressive condition totally exposed. I gaped, muscles frozen.
          “Well?” he asked. “Did you mean it?”
          “You bet!” I took him in hand. Stroking him gently sent such shivers through me I thought I was having tremens like Uncle Luke used to get after a binge.. Here was my idol, my Adonis, lying naked and submitting to me. Unbelievable. Wonderful.
          He pulled to his elbows and fixed me with those blue eyes. “Hey, dude. I can do that for myself. I thought you meant take care of me.”
          “I-I am.”
          “Not that way.” He reached out a lean bronzed arm, clapped me on the back of the head, and pulled me down.
          I only hesitated for a minute.


*****
Where’s this going? Liam has already woven his magic over the younger, more innocent Tommy. What more can happen? Check in next Thursday and you’ll see.

Until next week.

The following are buy links for the recently released The Voxlightner Scandal.


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

Thursday, July 12, 2018

I’m My Own Man (Part 2 of 2 Parts) – A Guest Blog

dontravis.com blog post #293

You will remember that last week, Mark Wildyr guest posted the first part of his short story, “I’m My Own Man.” This week we finish up the story.

*****
          I slept fitfully in my car that night and woke the next morning feeling dirty and heavy-lidded and not thinking too straight. I crawled out of the car to stretch out the kinks and wash up in the men’s room at the town park. Thus far, I’d spent half my energy throwing mental darts at my father; at his insensitivity, at his physicality, his crudeness. The other half, I invested in feeling sorry for myself. Now in the clear glare of sunlight, I needed to decide what to do next. No way was I going back home… not right away.
          I bought a breakfast burrito and cup of coffee from the McDonald’s down the street and took them back to the park to escape people. I imagined everyone was staring at the town queer. Didn’t take long to achieve that distinction. Kiss a guy once… well, twice… and that’s all it took. As soon as the bank opened, I went inside and tapped my funds for enough money to take care of me for a week.
          Without thought or plan, I got in the Chevy and drove out of Wadlow. Before long, I found myself in Silverdale, the county seat not a dozen miles down the road. I hit their McD for lunch. While I didn’t know very many people in this town, I imagined they were all staring at the county queer. Damn, I’d been promoted in less than a day.
           Finishing my burger in their park—it was bigger than ours—I wondered what to do next. Drive on until I was somewhere nobody knew me? Sit and stew? Go back home and do the crawfishing papa would demand before he quit looking at me like I was an alien. Or just sit here and molt.
          “Joshua, is that you I see?” The heavy voice startled me into thinking papa had already tracked me down.
          I looked up into the florid features of James Rondell. Mr. Rondell owned the grocery store in Silverdale. He knew my dad from business and civic organizations they both belonged to. Friendly competitors was how my mom put it.
          I stood and accepted his hand. “Mr. Rondell. Nice to see you.”
          “You are not working today?”
          “N-no, sir. I’m taking some time off.”
          “Well, if you want to make some extra money for school, I can use a hand. I’m short a clerk. The wiener schnitzel went and got himself married.”
          My heart took a leap. “Really? Guess I could help out… if it’s needed.”
          “A lifesaver, my boy. That’s what you’ll be. For a week, maybe?”
          “I… uh, I guess so. Have to find someplace to stay.
          “Not a problem. My wife and I have a spare room. Outside entrance and everything. You’ll be welcome.”
          Mrs. Rondell was my mom plus ten years and ten pounds. She welcomed me into her home and made me feel comfortable. I’d found a soft landing… at least for the next week or so.
          The culture at Rondell’s Foods—the way they did business—fit like a glove. Except for wearing a blue apron instead of a green, everything was almost the same. Mr. Rondell and I went to the store at six each morning after a hearty breakfast to open and get things ready for the day. The butcher and another clerk—a middle-aged lady—completed the staff. At the end of a week, no one said anything about me moving out or not coming to work, so I continued as I was.
          At the end of the second week, Mr. Rondell wanted to stop for a cup of coffee before going home. As we settled into a corner booth at the restaurant, I understood he wanted to talk.
          “Joshua, you’re a good worker, and I want you to understand you have a job here for as long as you like. But I know you sometimes get lonely for your own home.”
          “S-sometimes. But I’m okay. If you still need me, that is.”
          “You work at the store. You see my need. But still—”
          “It’s not comfortable for me at home right now,” I blurted.
          “Yes, I know.”
          And I saw that he did. He knew all about it. My cheeks burned.
          “Let me tell you a little story,” Mr. Rondell continued. “There was this man who knew how the world should work and insisted his family live by its rules. But he had a son who saw things differently. A son who insisted on being his own man by falling in love with another man. His dad thrashed him good and told him to be normal, a good Christian.”
          Mr. Rondell took off his glasses and wiped his eyes. “Then the son left his home and never came back. He and his friend moved out of town. A year later, word came to the family the son had been killed in an automobile accident. That papa never saw someone he loved dearly again.”
          “That… that was your son?” I stammered.
          He nodded. “My sweet Steven. He was a good boy even though I was too stupid to understand that.” He touched my shoulder. “I don’t want that future for you, Joshua. You are welcome here, but when you are ready to stand up to your father, Hilda and I will understand.”


          Two days later, my knees nearly gave way when Toby Wolfson came through the door and walked up to me. “I need two bales of hay,” he announced with a lilt in his voice and merriment dancing in his eyes.”
          I had to clasp my thighs to keep from throwing my arms around him. “How… how did you know where I was?”
          “I live about halfway between here and Wadlow. Sometimes I shop here, and sometimes there. I heard you were working at Rondells. So here I am.”
          “Let’s go get that hay.”
          After we loaded the bales, Toby backed me into a corner and took liberties that had me panting so bad I could hardly stand it. Apparently, he couldn’t either because he backed off and asked when I got off work.”
          “Not till seven.”
          “I’ll meet you outside at seven. Then we can go somewhere where we’ll be alone.”
          “Okay, but I have something to do first. Can you hold off an hour or so?”
          “Yeah, if I don’t burn up between now and then.”
          “You better not. I’ll see you at the Wadlow city park at eight, okay?”


          My mom was overjoyed when I walked through the door to our house; papa, more like flustered. But he recovered fast. “So, you just stroll in here after walking out. How you know you’re welcome?”
          “Be quiet, Louis,” mom snapped. “Of course, he’s welcome.”
          “If he can behave himself. If he can be a man.”
          I walked over to where he sat and took the newspaper out of his hand. “That’s why I’m here. I want to explain something to you.”
          “You explain to me?”
          “Yes. Apparently, you haven’t learned much from life. In too narrow a rut, I guess.”
          “Joshua, don’t speak to your father like that.”
          “Sorry, Mom. But this is between him and me. Papa, there’s more to being a man than just loving a woman. I take care of myself, make my own way. I’m responsible and reliable.”
          “Yes, but—”
          “Let me finish. So in my eyes, that makes me a man. But I’m not you, papa. I’m my own man. And if you can accept that, maybe I’ll come back home. But until you do, I won’t enter this house again.”
          I crawled into the Chevy a tormented man. It felt good to stand up to my father and express myself, but I hadn’t been raised to go against his wishes. Had I irreparably separated myself from my family?
          Unsettled and uncertain, I was steadied by the sight of Toby waiting for me at the park. Without a word, we piled into his pickup and drove out of town. An hour later, all of my doubts were swept away. I was truly my own man… with a man of my own.
                                                                                                                                      
*****
Looks as though Mark brought it home okay. I don’t know about you, but it stirred some shadowy memories in the past part of my brain.

Now my mantra: Keep on reading. Keep on writing. And keep on submitting your work to publishers and agents. You have something to say… so say it.

If you would like to drop me a line, my personal links follow:

Facebook: Don Travis
Twitter: @dontravis3

Here are some buy links to City of Rocks, my most recent book.


The next book in the BJ Vinson Mystery Series, The Lovely Pines is scheduled for release on August 28 of this year. It appears on DSP Publication’s upcoming releases page:  http://www.dsppublications.com/books/upcoming-releases-c

Abaddon’s Locusts follows on January 22, 2019. AND I have recently signed a contract for the sixth book in the series called THE VOXLIGHTNER SCANDAL. Publication date as yet undetermined.

See you next week.

Don

New Posts are published at 6:00 a.m. each Thursday.

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