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About CarlHoliday

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  1. Chapter 12 - Of Troubled Minds, Part 2

    “Benny, how do you feel this morning?” the psychiatrist asked. “My name is T-Bone,” the boy answered. He was sitting in a gray metal side chair while his doctor sat in a desk chair entering the boy’s responses into a computer terminal. The office was small and had been painted in pale green. There was one wire-caged light fixture in the ceiling with two bulbs, but they weren’t very bright. All of this was immaterial to T-Bone’s attention that morning. “Okay, T-Bone, how do you feel this morning?” “I’m okay, but is that woman who was talking naughty to me coming back?” “I can’t say for sure; hopefully, not today.” “So, you’re not sure.” “No, but we’re fairly certain she won’t be back today.” “Can you do me a favor?” “Sure, what do you need?” “I’d like to see Erik before you send me away, if that is possible.” “What do you mean, send you away?” “Someone said I was being sent to La-La Land. Is it nice there? When are you going to send me? I’d like to see Erik before I go, if you can find him. He’s gone away and my foster father said I can’t see him ever again because he’s under a retraining order, whatever that is. Maybe, you can get Erik to come here before you send me away to La-La Land.” “Who is Erik?” “My boyfriend.” “Where does he live?” “By a great big park. He took me to the opera and then we went to a restaurant. He bought me a tux because that’s what you’re supposed to wear when you go to an opera. The man at the tailor shop—that’s where they make tuxes—touched me and put my cock in his mouth, but I went away and can’t remember what he did to me. The next thing I knew, I was carrying a bag of clothes walking out the front door.” “T-Bone, how old are you?” “Don’t you know. I’d think you would since you’re my doctor. Isn’t it on my recording; or, do you use CDs for that information?” “I want you to tell me how old do you think you are.” “Well, now, let me think about this. I was seven, no, eight when I went to Meridian to visit my uncle and cousin. That was when my cousin did naughty things to me. Then my mommy beat me with a wooden spoon and I had to go to the ’mergency room. Some people came there and made me live somewhere other than where I lived with my mommy and new daddy. “After I don’t know how long, I went back to live with my mommy and a new daddy; and, we left Miss’sippi and came up north to live in New York where my new daddy worked for the railroad. Then I went away and lived by myself in a dark place where there were green lions, purple bears, and these little people who wore skirts made from leaves. I lived with these people, talked to the lions, and played with the bears until these people took me inside a big mountain, in a cave, and showed me this waterfall. Doctor, I saw myself inside the waterfall, but I was much older. “Then one sunny day the leader of these people took me inside the cave and forced me under the waterfall. When I stepped out of it, I was in a shower in the bathroom where I lived with my mommy and a new daddy. Mommy called me to the table and I wrapped a towel around my waist and went out to eat. I was fourteen that day.” So, how old are you today?” “Sixteen, but I’ll be seventeen in a few months.” “You said your new daddy was having sex with you. Isn’t that right?” “Oh, yes, that was before he killed the man who was giving mommy smack.” “How old were you when that occurred?” “Do I have to say?” “Why shouldn’t you say?” “Well, my new daddy said he will kill me and mommy if we say.” “Didn’t somebody say?” “Mommy did. She was coming down from being on smack and meth and my new daddy slapped her around the house for yelling at him because he was fucking me. She ran out into the street, but only had her house dress on. A cop stopped her and my new daddy shot at the cop. More cops came to the house and called out to my new daddy. He yelled at them he would kill me if they didn’t let him go to Canada. And, then, Ol’ Nigger James came to the door and said it was time for me to help him pull in the trotline and we walked through the cotton field because the trotline was on t’other side of the bayou. Can I go to sleep for a while; I’m kind of tired now?” “Okay, T-Bone, you can have a little nap.” “Why’d you call me that? No one has called me T-Bone since when Mommy and me lived in down by the bayou. Before Gram moved to Greenville.” “I thought it was your new daddy who named you T-Bone.” “No, how can that be when the SWAT team took him out when he was holding me hostage. They shot him in the head and got blood and bits of bone and his brain all over me.” “Who named you T-Bone?” “Gram, when I was just a baby. We was poor and could never afford T-bone steaks, but Gram said that was okay because I was her little T-Bone.” “Do you remember Dr. Goldmeier?” “Oh, yes, did she die? I think she said something about going to heaven. No, wait, she was Jewish; I don’t think they believe in heaven. Maybe she was just going to go live somewhere else, like California or Kansas. It’s a shame she’s living in Topeka because I’d like to see her, again, and tell her about the horrible woman from CPS who made me angry.” “Dr. Goldmeier is still seeing patients here in the hospital and next door in her clinic.” “Why aren’t you letting me see her now?” “Because when you came in this time you were catatonic and Dr. Goldmeier doesn’t handle such patients.” “And, you do? Am I ever going to see Dr. Goldmeier?” “As a matter-of-fact, I believe it’s time for me to transfer your case back to her.” “Good, maybe now I can go to the opera with Erik, again.” “Goodbye, T-Bone, it’s been a pleasure treating you.” “Yes, the first chance I get I’m going to introduce Erik to Ol’ Nigger James and we’re going to get some catfish and have a big ol’ fish fry. I’m going out into the cotton patch and see my mommy now.” When Dr. Smithson got out to the hall she dialed her phone and waited for an answer; wishing to the god of telephones her call wouldn’t go to voicemail. After a few rings, the call picked up and she heard, “Dr. Goldmeier, may I help you?” “Esme, Diane Smithson, I’ve been treating the Hensley boy and wanted to ask you if you want him back.” “How is Benny?” Dr. Goldmeier asked. “Well, we’ve gotten him out of the catatonia, but he’s a very confused young man and I think he may do better if you treat him going forward.” “Then the catatonia did him more harm than we expected.” “He said he had been sexually assaulted by the man I believe his mother had in the home, so, unfortunately, I reported that assault to CPS.” “As well you should, unfortunately, those assaults occurred when he was seven or eight. What is CPS doing?” “Everything they can do to get the boy out of here and into NYU.” “No, no, that’d be the worst thing they can do for the boy. Okay, I’ll take over and see if I can get some sense into him.” “He mentioned a boy named Erik. Does that mean anything to you?” “Do you remember seeing something in the news about a young, blind jumper whose attorney has been embezzling millions from the boy’s inheritance?” “Oh, yes, and the boy was sent to Bethpage.” “And the other patients caused him to break his leg.” “That’s Erik?” “Yes. I wonder if we can get both boys down to my clinic. It might do both of them wonders.” “Well, Esme that’s going to take a lot of friendly attorneys. I wish you luck.” * * * Erik lay in his bed staring into the nothingness of his blindness when he heard someone come into his room. Used to the comings and goings of the nurses he waited for the person to identify herself. He heard the chair across the room being picked up and carried to the foot of his bed. Still, he didn’t know who was in his room, but steeled himself against any possible physical or auditory assault. “Good morning, Erik, how are you doing today?” Ms. Shepford asked. “Okay, they said they’re moving me up to the adolescent psychiatric floor in a couple days when my broken leg stabilizes.” “What would you say if I told you you’re going to be sent to Ben’s foster home in Brooklyn?” “I’m going to be living with Ben?” Erik asked. “Actually, no.” “What do you mean?” “Ben is currently in the adolescent psychiatric ward at Bellevue hospital.” “Can I see him?” “No, not at the present time. There are some conditions to his visitation rights pertaining to him and you.” “I don’t understand.” “You see, your previous attorney placed certain conditions on your relations with Ben that have been addressed by the court as to your future relations with Ben.” “Is he saying that I can’t see Ben because we’re in a homosexual relationship that he doesn’t approve of.” “Well, no, not exactly. You see, he feels that Ben is only interested in seeing you is because of your wealth.” “But, he embezzled almost all of my assets.” “Well, yes, but you see, as far as the court is concerned, you still have financial wealth superior to that of Ben and any contact between you and Ben may be detrimental to your financial situation.” “When does this end?” Erik asked. “Do I have to try another suicide for the court to see what that lying bastard is doing to my life?” “Do you want to see Ben?” “Yes, of course, isn’t it plain as hell I want to see him?” “Then I will petition the court to allow a visit; supervised, of course.” “Fuck! Why can’t we be left alone?” “Because you have some degree of wealth and Ben doesn’t. Until we can convince the court that Ben is not interested in your money, that facet of your lives will always remain a contingency that must be overcome.” “Okay! Do whatever you have to,” Erik said. “I just want to see Ben, even if there is someone watching us so that we don’t touch in an inappropriate manner.” “As you wish, I will apply to the court for such a visit,” Ms. Shepford said. “I’ll let you know when the meeting has been arranged.” Erik listened to his attorney put the chair back and go out the door. He stared out into the empty view of blindness. His only wish was to see Ben again, but knew that was an empty wish. His only option in life was to accept his disability and try to make something of himself contrary to society’s expectation of a blind boy. Something came into his mind and he decided he needed to find another out, another easy exit by falling into the oblivion of death. He got out of bed and suddenly realized he couldn’t put very much weight on his injured leg. Carefully walking along his bed, he came to the end and realized he had to move across the aisle to the next bed. He made a horrible noise as he put too much weight on his bad leg, but slowly recovered as he took as much weight off of it as he could. “Hey! You’re not supposed to be up,” a voice said. “Who are you to tell me what to do?” Erik asked. “We’re supposed to call for a nurse if you get out of your bed,” the voice said. “Well, I’m up; what’re you going to do?” Erik asked. “I called for a nurse,” the voice said. “Your leg is bleeding. You better get back in bed.” “No, I’m going out the window and you can’t stop me,” Erik said. “Okay, what’s going on in here,” a new voice said. “Hey! You’re not supposed to be out of bed. Come on, let’s get you back in bed.” “No! You can’t make me,” Erik said. “I’m going out the nearest window and you can’t stop me.” “The bars on the window will keep you in. Now, do you want to this nice like or do we have to put you down?” “Fuck! Damn it! Why won’t you just let me die?” “Because this is a hospital and we’re not in the business of letting boys die.” Erik let himself go limp and allowed the medical staff to half-carry him to his bed where they got him into a comfortable position, pulled his gown open at the back, and he felt the needle go deep into his hip. He tried to stay conscious as long as he could, but the medicine was too strong and he quickly fell into that oblivious state of mind induced by a strong psychotropic drug. * * * “Hello, Troy, how are you today?” the man at the desk asked. “I go by Ben.” “Oh, yes, from your middle name; but, how do you feel today?” “How am I supposed to feel?” “Okay, let’s set the rules here,” the man said. “I’m Dr. Hargrove and I ask the questions.” “What happened to Dr. Goldmeier?” Ben asked. “I thought she’s my psychiatrist.” “You asked a question and I told you I’m the one who asks the questions, but for your information, Dr. Goldmeier was your psychiatrist at Bellevue. You’re now at NYU and I’m your psychiatrist here.” “Do you have a name?” “You just can’t stop with the questions, can you? I want you to know we have rules here at NYU. They might not have had them at Bellevue, but we do have them here.” Ben sat in the chair and looked over at the psychiatrist sitting in the desk chair all the time typing into the computer on the desk. The man was young, maybe twenty-five or so, with curly black hair; white, pasty skin with bright pink cheeks; a long nose and dark eyes set apart because his face was rounder than long. One thing he noticed most was the man’s hands; they were bright pink like his cheeks. “Well?” “Well, what?” Ben asked. “How do you feel today?” Ben sat there looking over at the doctor and then he looked over by the bookshelves at a woman sitting in a chair like his. She was writing on her tablet. She looked up from it and said, “Doctor, ask the patient when he was last abused.” “Yes, Ben, when was the last time you were sexually abused?” “Does it count when I had sex with my boyfriend?” “You have a boyfriend?” “Yes, but he’s gone away and I can’t find him anymore.” “Where does your boyfriend live?” “Fifth Avenue, across from Central Park, but I don’t think he lives there anymore. I think someone told me he tried to commit suicide and has been sent to a mental health place, like me.” “And, how old is this boyfriend?” “A year or two younger than me, I think.” “Isn’t he more likely five to ten years older than you?” “No, Erik is just a kid. I didn’t know I was gay until we had sex.” “And, didn’t this Erik person push his erection into your bottom?” “No, it wasn’t like that. Erik is cool. We were in the same foster home up in Wayne County.” “And, the owner of this foster home; wasn’t he named Erik and didn’t he take you into his bedroom where he took off your clothes and pushed his erection into your bottom?” “No! You got it all wrong. You don’t understand. You don’t know what it was like. You never met Troy or Mary. You are making me go nuts again. You’re going to send me to that hospital up north, again. You’re going to make Troy believe he’s black. You’re going to make Mary come out, again. Oh, God! Why don’t you people understand what you’re doing?” And, Ben went away. “Ben? Wake up, Ben. Ben? Wake up, boy.” But, Ben was in another place far from the interview room in the adolescent psychiatric ward at NYU Medical Center. “What happened?” the resident asked. “Frankly, my boy, I think you drove him over the edge and back to wherever he was down at Bellevue,” the attending said. “What do I do now?” “Call Esmerelda Goldmeier and ask her.” “But, the CPS people said he had been abused here in the city.” “When was the last time you knew CPS to know what they were talking about.” “What about the boy?” “Sedate him and, hopefully, he’ll come out of this, but considering the notes Dr. Goldmeier gave us, this boy may revert into a catatonic state no matter what we do.” “This isn’t going to look very good on my record,” the resident said. “No, not now, but if you’re able to bring this boy around and establish when he was assaulted without impinging your own suppositions on his state of mind, we might reach a successful conclusion.” Sometime later, a woman in a dark blue skirt, matching blazer, and a plain, white blouse with a bright green scarf tied in a knot around her neck came up to the adolescent psychiatric ward nurse’s station and stood waiting for someone to acknowledge her presence. “May I help you?” a nurse asked. “It’s about time somebody in this place noticed me,” the woman said. “I wish to speak to Troy Benjamin Hensley. I understand he is a patient here.” “And, you are?” “Ms. Theodora Fletcher, I am a CPS investigator for the New York State Administration for Child Services.” “One moment, I’ll check with his doctor,” the nurse said. “Why can’t people simply comply with my request. Do I have to get a court order?” “No, Ma’am, but I have to see if the patient is able to receive visitors.” “I have never had more trouble with any of the children I take care of than this boy. First they electrocute him over at Bellevue and now you say I have to have permission to speak to him at this facility.” The nurse dialed a number and after a few rings someone answered, “Dr. Victor.” “Yes, Doctor, I’m sorry to have bothered you, but the representative from CPS is here to interview Troy Hensley.” “I am not a representative,” Ms. Fletcher said. “I am an investigator.” “Yes, Ma’am, the doctor will be out in a moment.” After a couple minutes, Dr. Victor came down the hall, came up to the counter, and said, “Ms. Fletcher, I’m afraid Troy is not in any condition to see anyone at the present time.” “I’ll get a court order; I will, if you continue to refuse my access to this boy.” “I’m afraid Troy has reverted to dissociative fugue as the result of therapeutic interviews. He is heavily sedated at the present time, but with care and time we should have the boy into some semblance of sanity.” “Are you telling me I cannot see Troy?” “You can see him, but he will not respond to your presence.” “Are you going to electrocute him as they did down at Bellevue?” “ECT is normally a last resort therapeutic treatment, but if I feel he has no other chance of recovering, I will put it before the board.” “I will get my client the treatment he needs if I have to go to the governor.” “Well, Ms. Fletcher, if you think that will work, I suggest you do just that.” “You’re all nuts! I don’t know if you’re worse than the patients, but I’m going to get my interview of this boy and that is a promise.” Dr. Victor watched the woman walk down the hall to the elevators where she continually pressed the down button. He turned to the nurse and said, “If that woman comes back, I swear I’ll take her into Troy’s room and she can interview his comatose body.” “Now, now, Doctor, you know putting a crazy person with another crazy person will not make either of them sane,” a nurse said. “An old wives’ tale?” “No, Doctor, an old nurse’s tale.” * * * Meanwhile, over on the island a boy awoke and did his best to sit up to feel along his leg that had been broken. He quickly became aware that the stabilizing rod for his compound fracture now extended further up his thigh. He felt the first post and then the second before feeling along the rod across his knee to the three posts stabilizing his tibia. As he lay, he stared into his blindness. “Fuck!” he screamed. In a few moments a nurse came into the room and asked, “Are you okay?” “No, Goddammit, I’ve been fucked, again,” the boy said. “Why won’t you just let me die?” “Because that is not our business here,” the nurse said. “Is there anything I can do for you?” “Give me a rope or a sharp knife. I don’t care which, I just want to die.” “And, leave your friend in the lurch never knowing what happened to you?” “Ben? Do you know where Ben is? Can I go to him? Please, let me know. Don’t keep it a secret.” “Your friend, Ben, is in NYU Medical Center in Manhattan, but his foster father is out in the waiting room patiently anticipating your return to consciousness.” “Oh, Ben, please let him know I’m waiting for him, too.” “One moment, I’ll bring in your new foster father.” Erik looked into the nothingness of blindness and impatiently waited for Ben’s foster father to come into his room. He hadn’t quite heard that this man was to be his foster father, too; so, when Ernie came in Erik was somewhat taken aback by the man’s familiarity. “Hi, Erik, ready to go back to Brooklyn?” Ernie asked. “What do you mean,” Erik said. “I live in Manhattan.” “Not anymore; your new attorney will come up here when you’re ready to talk to her, but it boils down to this: your previous attorney, your trustee, used almost all of your funds to reimburse other clients of his in a Ponzi scheme. According to the State Attorney General, your estimated net worth is somewhere in the neighborhood of $375,000, but I’m sure they’ll get it down to the penny in a day or two.” “I had millions; do you mean it’s all gone?” “Unfortunately, son, that’s a fact. While your final net worth has yet to be established, you have been placed in my home with my mother, wife, son, daughter, and when he is finally released from NYU, my other foster son, Troy Benjamin Hensley.” “Ben, how is he?” Erik whispered. “According to the docs, he’s very mentally ill. According to one of his shrinks, he said that he’d been sexually abused. CPS is conducting an investigation to determine when this abuse occurred. According to his shrinks, he was probably abused when he was a child, but CPS is certain it occurred much later. Would you know anything about this?” “The day Ben came to my apartment to go to the opera he said the tailor tried to abuse him, but he passed out and wasn’t aware of anything until he was shown out the door an hour later. We kind of talked about it, but Ben was very vague. The only thing I remember was he said he’d been abused when he was a child by one of his cousins.” “Yes, that is what we established when he was living with us. Okay, Erik, I want you to concentrate on getting well. According to the New York City Administration of Child Services, you are cleared to live in our house until you graduate from high school.” “And, Ben; will he be there?” “If he’s cleared after his mental evaluation at NYU.” “Can I see him?” “Uh, no, not at this time. Erik, you have to understand there is a lot of legal and bureaucratic manipulations occurring to Ben’s status as a foster child in New York City.” “They’re going to fuck him up,” Erik said. “You know that, don’t you? You can’t say you don’t. Ben has been so fucked in the head we’ll never get him into a family support situation.” “I have to agree with you on that,” Ernie said. “I’ll come back as soon as I have any news.”
  2. Oh Damn!

    Back in October my VA shrink told me she could no longer see me long term. I was to be sent outside the VA. Well, my outside mental health provider took me off Seroquel and put me on Lithium in addition to my existing prescription for Valproic Acid (Depakote). As the Lithium dosage increased to a therapeutic level the tremors in my hands and arms increased until I could no longer hold my medication in the palm of my hand without it jumping out before I had a chance to put it in my mouth. I couldn’t hold a glass of water without the water sloshing out. But, the worse problem as far as I’m concerned is that I can no longer type without great effort. My fingers simply do not go where I tell them. As a result, my story “A Love Story” will end at chapter thirteen. Future stories will be put on hold until such time that I can type sufficiently without having to stop and go back to fix some niggling error.
  3. Chapter 11 Of Troubled Minds, Part 1

    No, but I do have bad dreams from a torturous childhood.
  4. Chapter 11 Of Troubled Minds, Part 1

    Images of brown nearly still water of a bayou floated across his mind while he looked out the length of his fishing pole and down the fishing line to the bobber floating in the water. He impatiently waited for the bobber to be pulled under the water by a passing crappie, bream, bass, or, if he was lucky enough, a good-sized cat. The sun bore down on his bare neck, but the bug repellant was keeping the skeeters away from his bare skin. He looked to his right and saw the profile of his latest daddy, the man who was sleeping with his mommy. His mind went blank at the thought of the sight of that man’s swollen cock sinking into the body of his mommy. A bright light flashed across his consciousness breaking the imagery of fishing alongside that old slow bayou. Once again, that bright light flashed across his consciousness causing him to turn his head away from the painful brilliance. “T-Bone, wake up, son. Come on, time to wake up. You can’t sleep the day away. We’ve got cats to gut and skin. Come on, boy, time to wake up.” The boy felt the pressure against where he pottied and, then, he screamed his lungs out as he felt that awful fullness enter him, again. He tried to scream more, but the hand over his mouth muffled the sound. He shut his mind to what was happening and entered that place across the bayou where they grew the cotton. He ran up and down the rows of immature cotton all the while the pressure in his bottom propelled him further into the cotton field. Finally, the intrusion to his being was withdrawn and he lay face down on his bed. “You be a good boy and don’t mention this to your mother,” the voice said in his ear. “You don’t want to find out what’ll happen to your mother if you tell.” “Doctor, what is your diagnosis?” “Obviously, the boy is suffering from some form of catatonic behavior. What I have to do is discover which of the many forms is affecting this boy.” “What is your recommendation?” “I believe ECT will assist this boy in regaining consciousness.” “That is a rather drastic move so early in his diagnostic protocol.” “Where else shall we begin?” “I can’t make any other recommendation.” “Then we will progress with ECT.” “Tomorrow morning?” “Yes, that will be sufficient.” “Maybe, he’ll wake up before then.” “We can only hope.” The following morning the stuporous boy, on a gurney, was rolled into an operating room and transferred to the operating table. An IV drip was inserted in his right arm and a blood pressure cuff was wrapped around his right ankle. “Shall we begin,” the psychiatrist said. “Inject the anesthesia, please.” The anesthetist observed his dials and tape readouts and, then, said, “He’s under.” “Place the electrodes,” the psychiatrist said. “Stand back.” The boy’s body stiffened as the electroconvulsive pulse coursed through his brain for sixty seconds and then it was over. The boy was taken out of the operating room and wheeled into recovery where he was monitored until his body achieved a state of wakefulness. Unfortunately, his mind was still locked in its internal struggle between sanity and insanity. After a few hours, the psychiatrist came into the recovery room and asked, “How’s my patient?” “Still catatonic, ma’am,” a nurse said. “Uh-huh, well, there’s always tomorrow.” * * * “Erik, tell me what you truly desire in life,” the psychiatrist said. “To live with my friend, Ben, and be homeschooled with him and be with his family.” “Have you spoken to your attorney?” “Which one?” “Your new one.” “Oh, yeah, him, he was here yesterday. He said he has contacted Ben’s foster family, but there seems to be something wrong with Ben that will prevent me from going to live with him. Do you know what’s wrong with Ben?” “He’s in a catatonic state at Bellevue. They’re giving him electroconvulsive treatments to shock his brain back to reality.” “Why can’t I go live with them until Ben is better?” “Are you certain you want to go that route?” “Why shouldn’t I? I want to be with Ben and what better way than to live with his family until he gets out of the hospital.” “I will contact your attorney and advise him of your wishes. I can’t make any promises as your original attorney is being quite litigious over this matter.” “Why can’t I just fire the bastard?” “Well, that may be a good idea on your part, but lawyers live in a different world than you and I. Your attorney of record may have legal documents to force you to remain under his authority.” “That’s a bunch of bullshit. You call my new attorney and tell him I want him to do whatever is necessary to get me out from under that other attorney’s control. You tell him if it means giving up my inheritance, so be it.” “Are you certain you want to go that far?” “Look, I want to be with Ben and I’ll do anything I can to do it.” “Okay, Erik, I’ll do that. Now, how have you been doing?” “I’m blind and the other patients take advantage of me. They move the furniture around so I never know where I am and I can’t go to my room without help from the staff. I hate it here and I only hope for the day when I’ll get out.” “Have you made any friends?” “No, none of kids like me. There was one boy, he said he’s gay and he tried to talk to me, but the other kids turned him against me. He said he wanted to be alone with me and knew where we could get it on without the other kids disturbing us. He led me into a room and then shut the door and locked it. I pounded on the door for I don’t know how long before the staff finally came to release me, they blamed me for going into the storeroom without permission. I had to stay in my room for a full day.” “Surely, you were allowed to come out for meals.” “No, they brought them to me and kept my door locked. They said if I told anybody about it I’d be punished. They didn’t say what the punishment was.” “I’ll check and see what the situation is.” “Yeah, sure, get me in trouble. Thanks, Doc, your help is really appreciated.” “Well, I think this is sufficient until group therapy. You can go.” Erik stood up, went to the door and opened it. He walked out into the dayroom and within three steps tripped over an ottoman placed in his path. “Oh, crap!” Erik yelled. The other patients in the dayroom broke out into laughter. “Erik! No swearing,” a nurse called out from the cage. “Erik, are you okay?” his psychiatrist asked when he came out of the interview room and saw his patient sprawled over the ottoman and onto the floor. “My knee! Oh, God, it hurts!” Erik cried. “Nurse! Get a gurney in here,” the psychiatrist called out. “This boy is injured.” “He’s just faking it like he always does,” the nurse said. “Well, I know a compound fracture when I see one. Get a gurney in here this instant.” “Oh, shit!” someone in the cage exclaimed. “I tell you he’s faking it,” the nurse said. “Come here and look at this leg,” the psychiatrist said. “Hey, I’m a psychiatric nurse, not an orthopedic nurse.” “If you want to remain a psychiatric nurse at this establishment, I suggest you call for a gurney. Now!” “Oh, fuck, I don’t feel so good,” Erik breathed before passing out. * * * “Are we all ready?” the psychiatrist asked. “Yes, Doctor,” everyone said. “Very well, clear,” and the psychiatrist pressed the button on the ECT machine. The young boy’s body stiffened as the induced convulsion coursed through his body. Finally, after 60 seconds the doctor released the button and the patient’s body relaxed. “Very good,” the psychiatrist said. “I’ll see the patient in recovery. Hopefully, this time he will have regained some degree on consciousness. After about thirty minutes, the psychiatrist went into the recovery room and read his patient’s chart. “His eyes are open, but he’s still a bit groggy,” a nurse said. The doctor went over to his patient’s gurney and looked down into the deep brown eyes. “Hello, how are you doing today?” the doctor asked. “Okay, I guess,” the boy said. “My head kind of hurts, but I think I’ll be able to help Ol’ Nigger James with his trotline, if you let me out of this place.” “What are you expecting to catch on your trotline?” the doctor asked. “Oh, it isn’t mine. It’s Ol’ Nigger James’ trotline. He lets me help him pull in the line and gaff the cats. Sometimes, if he’s nice, he’ll let me take one home to Mommy and she’ll fillet it out. She has a prep of cornflakes and Cajun spices that she’ll coat the fillets with before frying them in oil.” “Ben, where do you think you are?” “Ben? Who’s he? My name is T-Bone. My new daddy gave it to me, ’cuz my first name starts with a ‘T’ and my middle name starts with a ‘B’. Have you talked to my new daddy, yet?” “No, I don’t think I have.” “You should, ’cuz he puts his thingy in my bottom. Don’t tell my mommy, ’cuz she won’t understand that that’s what daddies sometimes do to their young ’uns to put them in their place. My new daddy does that to me when Mommy is at work. It hurts a lot and I try to scream, but my new daddy puts his hand over my mouth and stifles me. Can I go to sleep now? I’m awfully tired. If my new daddy comes by, could you say I’m sick and he can’t put his thingy in my bottom anymore?” “Oh, my God, what’re you going to do, Doctor?” a nurse asked. “Obviously, I must notify the city’s Child Protective Service, but I’m very interested in when this assault took place. Quite possibly, this abuse occurred prior to his placement here in New York. But, at a minimum, I must report that he was abused. Take the boy up to his room and give him three mg Midazolam IM one hour apart. If he comes to and is troubled by those sexual abuse memories, you may repeat the dosage, but I don’t want him too drugged if a CPS investigator comes to interview him.” “Yes, Doctor.” A little under four hours later, an officious woman in a dark blue skirt, matching blazer, and a plain, white blouse with a bright yellow scarf tied in a knot around her neck came into the doctor’s office and asked, “Are you the physician who called about Troy Benjamin Hensley?” “Yes, please have a seat. And, you are?” “Theodora Fletcher, I’m responsible for the older teen placements in our office. What is your relationship with the child?” “I’ve been giving him ECT treatments to treat his catatonic state.” “Am I to understand you are electrocuting this boy?” “No, that’s an old wives’ tale about a thoroughly studied medicinal treatment for mental disorders. We only use a very low voltage to induce therapeutic seizures.” “How many of these so-called therapeutic electrocutions have you put this child through?” “For the record, we do not electrocute our patients. ECT is a valid therapeutic procedure recognized by medical authorities in this state, nationally, and internationally.” “I see. Your call to our office stated this child remembered a sexual assault. When, to the best of your knowledge, did these assaults occur?” “I have no idea, but from the patient’s words, I have to assume they took place sometime in his early childhood.” “And, why not recently?” “Well, he was talking like a child, not a teen.” “That will have to be determined. I want to speak to the child myself.” “Of course, I anticipated your desire. If you will come with me, I’ll take you to my patient.” “No, I want a nurse to escort me to the child. I do not want your therapeutic influences to cloud the child’s responses to my questions.” “Whatever you desire,” the psychiatrist said. Keying her intercom, she said, “Diedre, please arrange a nurse to take Ms. Fletcher up to Benny’s room.” “You referred to him as Benny,” Ms. Fletcher said. “Why is that?” “That’s the name he prefers; unless, he is in his juvenile mind and then he responds to T-Bone.” “Why is that?” “I have no idea, but I assume it has something to do with his earlier life.” “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way,” Ms. Fletcher said. “Try to be kind; this is the first day he hasn’t been in a catatonic state,” the doctor said. “Yes, well, I have my job to do and if the child refuses to cooperate, the results are not my responsibility,” Ms. Fletcher said as she stood up. She stalked out of the office. The doctor picked up her phone, dialed a number, waited for someone to answer, and said. “Yes, this is Dr. Smithson. A representative from CPS is on her way up to see Benny Hensley. Please make him comfortable for her visit.” “Ma’am, he’s still asleep from the sedative you prescribed,” the nurse said. “Try to wake him. The woman from CPS is most disagreeable and may upset the boy if he’s not awake.” “Yes, ma’am, I’ll do my best.” “Thank you.” * * * “Good morning, Erik, how are you doing today?” the psychiatrist asked. “Okay, I guess. Where am I, now?” “Manor Municipal Hospital.” “Are you going to send me back to that mental hospital?” “No; the court has modified your commitment to a facility more in line with your disability and your mental deficiency.” “My mental deficiency is because of my physical disability.” “Your attorney is here to discuss your case. Do you feel up to speaking with her?” “Sure, but I thought I had a man for an attorney.” “I don’t know why, but you now have a woman. Shall I ask her to come in?” “Okay, but I still don’t understand.” A few moments after the psychiatrist left, a woman came into Erik’s room and said, “Hello, Erik, I’m Diane Shepford. I’ve been appointed by the Suffolk County Court to represent you.” “I have an attorney,” Erik said. “Yes, well, you’re no longer in Manhattan. According to the file from your previous attorney there was a legal discrepancy when you were emancipated. Is that correct?” “I was emancipated when I moved down from Warnton, New York.” “How old were you when you were emancipated?” “Fifteen.” “Yes, and therein lies the problem. Per New York state laws, you can only be emancipated when you are over sixteen years of age.” “But, Mr. Morgan said I was emancipated.” “Yes, but he was in error and it seems someone forged the documents stating your date of birth. Are you aware of the net worth of your estate?” “I don’t really know the exact figure, but Mr. Morgan said that my holdings have increased around twenty percent.” “What would you say if I told you your present net worth is somewhere in the neighborhood of three hundred and a fifty, or so, thousand dollars?” “But, Mr. Morgan said my holdings were worth much more; in the millions.” “Have you ever heard of the term Ponzi scheme?” “Wasn’t that what that crook Bernie Madow was involved in? I think I read about it in school.” “That’s Bernie Madoff.” “Are you saying I’m not worth as much as I thought?” “At the very least, you will need to be in a foster placement until your financial situation can be determined by the courts.” “My friend Ben is in a foster placement in Brooklyn. Could you see if I can be placed in his home?” “Ah, well, unfortunately, according to your previous attorney’s various illegal activities, your county of residence has been changed to Suffolk County. With Ben living in Brooklyn County, your foster placement in his residence will have to be coordinated with the two county departments of social services.” “Will you do that for me?” Erik asked. “I can, but we’re still dealing with your court ordered placement in a behavioral health facility due to your attempted suicide.” “Fuck!” “Now, now, Erik, don’t get upset. Steps are being taken to ensure you have a life subsequent to the financial damage Mr. Morgan has done to your estate.” “When can I be released?” “When your financial situation is stabilized and your behavioral health status is cleared, I will do what I can to find you a foster placement conducive to your mental needs.” Breathing heavily, Erik looked out through unseeing eyes as he seethed with anger at his former attorney. He realized his life was basically fucked and he’d be lucky to see Ben ever again. “I want to see Ben. I don’t know what you can do, but I want to see him. I want to be with him.” “Erik, you have to understand, at the present time, you cannot be released to see Ben” “Please, I want to see him!” Erik cried. “Okay, I’ll see what I can do,” Ms. Shepford said. “Okay, make it all happen.” “Where do you wish to live once you are out from under Mr. Morgan’s trusteeship?” “With Ben, in his foster placement in Brooklyn, if at all possible.” “That may take some time. You might have to be placed in temporary housing.” “I don’t care, just get me away from Mr. Morgan and in with Ben.” “I’ll see what I can do.” Erik heard the attorney leave and he lay back on his pillow. It was then he realized his leg ached something horrible. He leaned over and pressed the switch to inject some painkiller in his IV line and waited for the medicine to calm the pain. It took some time, but eventually that warm feeling of relief filled his consciousness. He looked across the room at the television, but, of course, there was nothing to be seen. * * * T-Bone sat in his bed wondering where he was. The only thing that he knew for certain was his bottom hurt from where his daddy put his thingy inside him. He didn’t like what happened, but knew that what happened was what daddies did to their young ’uns to keep them in their places. Someone he didn’t know came into his room and brought up a chair at the end of the bed and sat down. “Troy Benjamin Hensley? I am Theodora Fletcher. I’m a field agent for Child Protective Services in New York City. How are you today?” “What do you want?” “We received a report you have been sexually abused. Who abused you?” “I can’t say or my mommy will be killed.” “Who made this threat?” “My new daddy.” “Is he the person who is abusing you?” “I said I can’t say or my mommy will be killed.” “Child, do not fear whatever your daddy told you. You will be protected. Where is your mother.” “She’s dead.” “I don’t understand. A moment ago, you said your new daddy will kill her if you say what he’s been doing to you. How is it possible that your daddy will kill your mommy?” “Like I said, he’ll kill her if I say.” “Child, your daddy can’t kill your mommy if she’s already dead. Now, is your daddy abusing you?” “Oh, God, my mommy’s going to die. But, yes, daddy is putting his thingy in my bottom.” “When was the last time that occurred?” “Yesterday.” “That’s impossible, you’ve been in this hospital for over a week. Have any of the staff assaulted you?” “What do you mean? I’m home and my mommy is dead because you made me say. Now, my daddy is going to come home from Attica and kill me, too.” He fell back on his bed and started screaming. He was blind with fear and anger. He looked at the woman in the room and screamed, “You killed my mommy!” A nurse came in and asked, “What have you done to the patient?” “He’s being irrational,” Ms. Fletcher said. “That’s because he’s in the adolescent psychiatry ward.” “I must find out when and who is sexually abusing him.” “Well, you’re not going to find out today,” the nurse said as she bent over the boy and injected half his normal sedative dosage. “When will I be able to speak with him?” Ms. Fletcher asked. “Best guess, maybe in a week.” “But, he’s being abused and quite possible by staff members at this hospital.” “That, I assure you, is not occurring. Now, if you will leave, I’ll do my best to restore some sanity in this child.” “Well, I never. You’ll hear from my superiors.” “I tell you what, you have your superiors speak with my superiors and hopefully they can work something out that won’t trouble this boy.”
  5. We can only hope Ben comes out of this with some degree of sanity.
  6. “All rise,” the bailiff announced. All the parties to the proceeding and the few witnesses who were looking to get in out of the rain stood as the judge came out of her office and sat in her chair on the dais. “Be seated,” the bailiff announced. Everyone in the court took their seats. “Let’s see, we are here to determine the sanity of Erik Benedict Johnson and his placement in a facility to treat his mental deficiencies,” the judge said. “Who is here to represent the subject?” “I am, your honor,” the man to Erik’s left said, as he stood up. “And, you are?” “Arthur Pennington, attorney-at-law.” “And, the party representing the opposing view?” “I am, your honor,” Benedict Morgan said, as he stood up. “My name is Benedict Morgan and I am the trustee of Erik Johnson’s estate.” “Very well, we’ll proceed. Mr. Pennington, you may call your first witness.” “Dr. Chamberlain, will you take the stand?” A rather tall gentleman in a navy blue and white pinstripe suit stood up and walked to the witness stand. The bailiff came up and presenting a Bible, said, “Do you promise to give your testimony truthfully before God and all the witnesses today?” The gentleman placed his hand on the Bible and said, “I so promise.” “State you name.” “Arnold Victor Chamberlain, Medical Doctor of Psychiatry.” “You may be seated,” the judge said. “Dr. Chamberlain, what is your relationship with the subject of today’s hearing?” Mr. Pennington asked. “He is my patient in the adolescent treatment center at Bellevue Hospital.” “How would you describe the patient’s mental state.” “I object,” Mr. Morgan said as he stood up. “To what do you object, Mr. Morgan?” the judge asked. “The psychiatrist has no professional record with treating members of Erik Johnson’s social status.” “Your honor, we are here to determine what is to be done with Erik Johnson considering his mental status due to his attempted suicide,” Mr. Pennington said. “That has little to do with his social status.” “Mr. Morgan, what would you have done with Erik Johnson?” the judge asked. “He should be returned to his residence and be compelled to continue his attendance at his prep school.” “Didn’t Erik Johnson attempt suicide from his residence?” “Well, yes, your honor, but with sufficient physical alterations to his apartment door and windows, he should be prevented from attempting suicide from his residence in the future.” “Mr. Morgan, as the trustee for Erik Johnson’s estate, are you more interested in your fees from his investments or the welfare of this young boy?” “Your honor, I respectfully refuse to answer.” “Yes, I’m sure you are.” “Gentlemen, today we are faced with the sanity of a boy of significant wealth, but age-related immaturity has significantly affected his mental state. Erik Johnson shall be committed to a mental health facility commiserate with his degree of mental instability. Mr. Morgan, I am referring your status as Erik Johnson’s trustee to the Manhattan Prosecuting Attorney for review of your legal standing in relation to this juvenile. I think that about covers it for today.” “All rise,” the bailiff said. Everyone in the courtroom stood up as the judge stood up and left the court. Mr. Morgan came over to Erik and said, “This is a travesty of justice, Erik, and you will hear from my office in the morning.” Erik stared in the direction of his former attorney’s voice and then stared at the floor. He didn’t quite understand what just occurred, but was somewhat encouraged by the words of his psychiatrist before the trial, which were, “Don’t worry what happens today. We’re going to get you the help you need and we’re going to get you away from that man who assumes to be your guardian. Don’t worry, Erik, your life is going to improve in a very short time.” Erik felt a hand at his elbow and someone said, “Ready to go?” “Who are you?” Erik asked. “Your escort to Bethpage Behavioral Health Residential Center. Ready to go to your new home?” “Dr. Chamberlain, is he going to be there?” “Oh, yes, of course, Dr. Chamberlain is your physician of record. He will see you at our facility.” * * * “Ben, we’ve found Erik,” Ernie said when he walked into the backroom of the restaurant. “Where is he? Can I see him?” Benny asked. “No, not right now. He’s under a court ordered commitment to a mental health facility out on the island.” “Where has he been? Why haven’t I been able to talk to him?” “Well, there was the restraining order from his attorney, but now he has been sent to a mental health facility for treatment and you’re still not to contact him until that restraining order has been removed.” “I don’t understand.” “I know this is confusing for you, but the important thing is to understand that Erik has been committed to a mental health facility where he’ll reside until the courts determine he is safe to be released to a residential situation where he won’t try to commit suicide.” “He tried to off himself?” “Unfortunately, yes.” “I knew it! I knew he was too young to be living in that apartment overlooking Central Park.” “Well, he did try to commit suicide and now we have to deal with his new residential situation.” “When can I talk to him?” “Well, we’re still blocked by his attorney’s restraining order. Until we can get that overruled, you will not be able to speak to Erik.” “Fuck!” “No need in getting vulgar; now, how’re you doing with the chitterlings?” “They’re not so bad now that you’re getting them from that supplier in Newark.” “Good, you watch the product and if there’s anything wrong, you let me know, okay?” “Sure, Ernie, I’ll do what you say.” As he picked through the chitterlings for dark spots which needed to be cut out, Ben’s thoughts went back to the previous weekend when he had been with Erik in his apartment. He remembered having sex with the smaller statured boy, but at the time it didn’t seem to matter that Erik was smaller than him. Surprisingly, Erik’s cock was longer that his, though it wasn’t as thick. A thought crossed his mind of Erik fucking him with that cock; though, at the same time his mind remembered his cock entering the younger boy and fucking him until he came harder than he’d ever done with only his hand. “Hey, Ben, you got to clean these chitterlings better than you’re doing,” Artie the restaurant’s salaried prep person said. “These guts have too many spots on the outside and inside.” “Oh, sorry, I guess I was thinking of something else,” Ben said. “Well, think about your job.” “Sure, okay, I’ll do it right.” * * * “Erik, welcome to Bethpage Behavioral Health Residential Center,” a masculine voice said at the taxi’s open door. “My name is Reginald and I’m here to escort you to your ward.” Erik got out of the taxi and stood up. He turned his head taking in auditory and other sensory inputs. He smelled the moss on the concrete sidewalk, the aroma of his escort, and the smell of the car. “Here, let me take your arm so I can walk you into the center,” Reginald said. Erik smelled the faint odor of body powder, antiperspirant, and a stronger scent of aftershave, but he couldn’t quite place the scent. Reginald’s meaty grip on his elbow was quite strong causing Erik to ask, “Are you black?” “Nope, Italian-American. Why did you ask?” “Your hand is quite fleshy and I assumed you were black.” “Sorry, Erik, but not all behemoths are black.” “Behemoths, that’s funny,” Erik said with a giggle. “You’re going to work out quite well out here at Bethpage,” Reginald said. “Yeah, as long as I’m on the first floor,” Erik admitted. “Ah, yes, well actually you’ll be on the third floor, but your ward doesn’t have access to stairwells, balconies, or outside windows.” “The perfect jumpers’ ward, then?” “You got that right, son.” “Are there many of us?” “Enough, considering all of you are failures.” “The ones who didn’t make it.” “Yes, but we prefer to refer all of you to be successes in that you didn’t succeed.” “Yeah, keeping up a positive attitude to failures at life who were only looking for an easy out.” “Yeah, that’s right.” The elevator stopped and Reginald and Erik walked into the foyer. Reginald said, “Ah, here we are. One sec’ while I unlock the door.” They walked through the door and Erik heard someone say, “Hey, guys, look, we have a new body. Hi, I’m Lucy, actually it’s Lucretia, but my parents hung that on me. And, you are?” “Erik.” “Come along, Erik, let’s get you checked in,” Reginald said. “See you around, Erik,” Lucy said. “He seems nice, but there’s something wrong with him,” a voice said. “Did you see how Reggie was holding his arm and directing him through the dayroom?” another voice asked. “What do you think is wrong with him?” a voice asked. “His eyes were moving like he wasn’t looking at anything,” another voice said. “What’s wrong with him?” “Obviously, he disabled in some way,” a voice said. “Yeah, but how?” “Maybe, there’s something wrong with his eyes.” “Do you think he’s blind?” “How will he get around in here?” “We got to talk to Harriet.” “Yeah, we can’t have some handicapable dude in this ward.” “Handicapable, that’s funny!” “Wait, Reggie’s coming over here with the gimp.” “Children, this is Erik and he will be with us for a while,” Reggie said. “Please make him feel welcome.” “What’s wrong with him? He keeps looking around as if he’s blind or something.” “Yeah, Reggie, is the gimp blind?” “As a matter-of-fact, Erik is blind.” “What’d he do, Reggie, try to jump off a building?” “That is not open for discussion at this time. Now, are you going to make him feel welcome or do we need to put all of you in your rooms until you think you can act with a little maturity?” “Hey, you can’t threaten us. We got rights.” “Do you want to go back to Bellevue? That can be arranged.” “Fuck you, Reggie. Come on, Erik, we’re watchin’ TV, but I guess you won’t be watchin’ that much.” “I do fairly well listening to the dialogue,” Erik said. “Yeah, okay, my name’s Johnny. I’m a jumper. Why’re you here?” “I tried to jump.” “Cool, dude, you stay with me an we’ll get on okay.” “Okay, everyone, let’s gather for a circle,” a voice said that Erik didn’t recognize. “Erik, come with me and I’ll put you in a good seat,” Johnny said. Erik felt a hand at his elbow and went along with the directions indicated by pressures on his forearm. Eventually, the other person stopped and said, “Here, you can sit here.” Erik felt for the chair and in his mind’s eye positioned his body until he sat down in a chair. “Hey! That’s my chair,” a voice said to his left. “Hey, Molly, Erik’s new and is going to be sitting by me,” Johnny said. “You get a new chair.” “Fuck you, jumper, I’m sitting in my chair,” Molly said. “No way, slasher, go sit with your group; Erik’s a jumper and he’s sitting with me,” Johnny said. “I’ll get you fuckface,” Molly said. “Up yours, filthy cunt,” Johnny said. “Okay, guys, enough of the vulgarity,” a voice said. “Come on, we got a new member, let’s adjust our sitting arrangement.” There was shuffling of chairs for a few minutes and then silence filled the room. Erik turned his head trying to get sensory references from the other children, but for a reason he couldn’t understand all the other children smelled basically the same, except for a few that had a funk about them that was unrecognizable. “Okay, children, we have a new patient with us,” the authoritarian voice said. “You know what to do: name, diagnosis, and present mental state. Beverly, you may start.” “Hi, I’m Bev; I’m a slasher; if you don’t know what that is, I cut my wrists in the hope I would bleed to death. Unfortunately, I didn’t die before my mom found me bleeding in the bathtub. According to my psych, I’m fixated on the guy who caused me to cut myself.” “Hi, I’m Dickie, I’m thirteen. I slashed my wrists because my mother is a bitch and my father is a fuckhead who doesn’t give a fuck what I do. My shrink says I might have a chance at living out this phase of my life if I can be kept away from my parents.” “Yeah, I’m David. I’m a fag and I’m fourteen. My boyfriend, who I thought loved me, told some of his jock friends that I like it up the ass. Five of them raped me, while Barry kept whispering in my ear that he was my one and only. I tied a rope around my neck and stepped off a ladder in our garage. My dad found me and cut me down before I did serious damage to my brain. My shrink says I’m stupid for believing a jock could love me.” “Oh, is it my turn? Sure, okay, uh, I’m Steve, you see Veronica was my girlfriend, but she told some of her girlfriends that I liked to eat her pussy. Honest, I don’t do that, but Veronica said I did. I went out in our garage and looped a rope through an I-bolt in the ceiling that my dad used to hang his dinghy from. Well, I looped the rope around my neck and simply stepped off the fender of Dad’s Ram pickup. Dad found me just in time. My shrink says I have issues with my dad or I wouldn’t have tried to off myself in the garage.” “Yeah, well, I’m Lucy; and, don’t get it in your head I’m not anything like Lucy Ricardo. I’m a slasher. Did my wrists a couple times before my parents finally agreed to send me out here. You won’t find any sympathy here. We’re all just a bunch of teens who’re fucked up at life and now have to be locked up so that we don’t try to kill ourselves. My shrink says I have a negative attitude toward life. As far as I’m concerned he’s right and I’ll attempt another off whenever I’m sure no one is watching out for me.” “Hi, I’m Johnny. I’m a jumper. Three months ago, I went out on the fire escape of our apartment in Brighton Beach and tried to do a header into the alley. Unfortunately, I tripped and ended up landing feet first. Messed up my feet, ankles, knees, hips, and every bone in between. I was in a hospital for nearly three months before my parents sent me out here. My shrink says I have a negative attitude toward life and I should look for the good in life if I’m going to expect to live a long life.” “Oh, last again, huh? My name’s Molly and I’m a slasher, too. I was dating this guy named Ricky, actually Enrique, but that’s beside the point. One day he got real pushy about our relationship and wanted me to go to a party with him and some of his immigrant friends out on the island. Frankly, I think they’re all MS-13, including Ricky, so I said no. He slapped me around and said that we were going on Saturday, whether I wanted to or not. I got scared and slit my wrists, but I didn’t do a very good job of it and just made a mess of my tendons.” “Erik, please introduce yourself,” the leader of the group said. “Well, okay, but there really isn’t much to say.” “Just state the facts and we’ll ask questions for clarifications.” “Well, you see, I live in an apartment across the street from Central Park in Manhattan. My attorney selected the place because he said it was suitable for my social standing and that I might enjoy the view. I’m fucking blind and I’ll never enjoy the view, but he wouldn’t accept that. He put me in a college prep school in the Upper East Side, but the students do everything they can to make me unwelcome. None of the teachers do anything to stop what the students are doing. A number of months ago, I was put in contact with a boy who was at the foster home where I once lived Upstate. He has his own mental issues, but we finally got together and had a great weekend. Unfortunately, my attorney didn’t like the fact that this boy now lives in Brooklyn. He says the boy is below my social status and he got a restraining order to prevent this boy from ever seeing me again. You have to understand that up until a couple years ago I was a fully sighted boy. You cannot understand what being blind is like. Finally, I couldn’t take it any longer and found a way of opening the slider to my terrace overlooking Central Park. I was sitting on the railing when a cop pulled me down and cuffed me. They sent me to Bellevue first and after my hearing, they sent me out here.” “Erik, this is Bev. Am I to understand you’re in a relationship with another boy?” “Yes, isn’t that what gay guys try to find?” “Well, yes, but you’re kind of young; isn’t it possible that you might be interested in a relationship with a girl?” “Why would I want to do that?” “Well, you’re young and, maybe, you’re not as gay as you think.” “Look, bitch, I like sucking cock and taking it up the ass. If that isn’t being gay, then what is?” “Hey! You can’t call me a bitch. We have rules here. Marv, you tell this fuckhead we have rules here.” “Erik, we do not call each other derogatory names.” “Yeah, sure, okay.” “You make him apologize, Marv.” “Erik, you will apologize to Bev for calling her a derogatory name.” “Bev, I apologize for calling you a bitch.” “He did it again!” Bev said. “Marv, you got to send him to his room. Rules are rules here. We all abide by the rules and this fuckhead is disrespecting me.” “Hey! She can’t call me a fuckhead,” Erik said. “Okay, both of you, stop with the name calling,” Marv said. “I want each of you to apologize to the other or I’m sending you to your rooms.” “Erik, I apologize for calling you a name,” Bev said. “Erik, you will apologize for calling Bev a derogatory name,” Marv said. “Fine! I apologize for calling Bev the bitch that she is,” Erik said. “That’s it!” Marv said. “Erik, you will go to your room this instant.” “Where the fuck is it? If you haven’t noticed, I’m blind and have no idea where my room is. All of this is a pile of shit if you can’t acknowledge that I’m blind.” “Geez, Marv, you can’t send him to his room, if he doesn’t know where it is,” Johnny said. “We all know how Bev can be confrontational with new members of the group. Maybe, considering Erik’s blind, we can cut him some slack.” “Everyone, who is in favor of Erik staying in group today?” Marv asked. “Oh hell, Marv, it’s plainly obvious Erik isn’t dealing with his disability, plus whatever his diagnosis is,” Bev said. “Let him stay and we’ll work with him to stabilize his mental issues.” “Okay, Erik, I’ll give you a pass on this one instance,” Marv said. “But remember, we do not call each other by derogatory names. Do you understand?” “Yeah, sure, do you want me to sign a statement to that?” Erik asked. “No, we’ll take your word,” Marv said. “Okay, who would like to address Erik as to his being here?” * * * “Ben?” Ernie said at the Ben’s bedroom door. “Hey, I’m studying U.S. history now,” Ben said. “Sorry for the interruption, but I thought you’d like to know the restraining order against you seeing Erik has been lifted by the court.” “When can I go see him?” “Well, you see, the institution where he’s been committed doesn’t allow visitation rights to anyone but family.” “But, he doesn’t have any family.” “Well, actually, he does and until they formally release custody, you won’t be able to visit him.” “But, I thought he was emancipated.” “Well, actually, according to the Manhattan family court, technically he wasn’t. His attorney finagled the emancipation with a friend of his in the court.” “You mean he’s still a juvenile subject to foster care.” “Yes, that’s about it, except it seems his attorney was running a Ponzi scheme with Erik’s inheritance.” “How much? How much has Erik lost to that bastard?” “Well, the Manhattan D.A. is still tabulating Erik’s losses, but it seems he’s lost a significant portion of his assets to his attorney’s illegal management of the stocks, bonds, and cash in Erik’s accounts.” “And, nobody’s put out a hit on this scumbag?” “Ben, I wish it was as easy as that, but, unfortunately, it’s not as easy as you might think.” “Fuck!” The change in Ben’s countenance was dramatic. The boy’s normal softness became dramatically hard. It was as if he’d been forced to accept something totally beyond his reckoning. Possibly, as severe as being forced to stand at the edge of oblivion and made to look into his own temporal being. His body began to shake until it fell off his chair and bound itself into a fetal position all the while continuing to uncontrollably tremble. Ernie took out his cell and dialed 9-1-1. After a few moments, the operator came on and asked, “Please state your emergency.” “We have a boy here who has had a mental breakdown and needs to go to Bellevue,” Ernie said. “Confirming your address, are you at 52 Fiske Place, Park Slope, Brooklyn?” “Yes, that’s correct.” “One moment … Sir, I’ve dispatched an EMT unit to your location.” “Thank you.” In the meantime, Mr. Thompson, Ben’s afternoon instructor, had gone to the bathroom and got a cool, damp washcloth and had put it on the boy’s forehead. “It’s a shame this had to happen,” Mr. Thompson said. “I was really hoping Ben was getting his life together.” “It’s not his life we’re worried about,” Ernie said. “His mind suffered significant trauma when he was young and now we can only hope some part of his personality will take control and stabilize his mind. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to call Bellevue and let them know Ben will be coming their way.”
  7. Chapter 13 - Two Bullets

    I am sorry to see you go, but I have to admit I'm just not a cream and sugar kind of writer.
  8. “Ah, Erik, I didn’t expect to see you today,” Erik’s attorney said. “What brings you downtown?” “I want a change in my living situation,” Erik said. As he allowed the attorney’s secretary to escort him into the office. He sat down in the offered chair and said, “I am now in a relationship and I want my educational, residential, and living situations to change.” “Let’s see, you’re living across from Central Park. What is it that you do not like about Central Park.” “Look at me! I’m blind! I can’t appreciate that place and I want to move away from there.” “I see and where do you want to move?” “Park Slope in Brooklyn.” “Brooklyn? You’re much too rich to live in that borough.” “Look, you fuckin’ bastard, I want to live near the boy I love and I want to be homeschooled with him.” “I must advise against such a move.” “Then I want a new attorney.” “Erik, obviously you are not aware of your inheritance. Geoffrey’s will clearly states that I am to act as your trustee and, in such capacity, I will provide you with a residence and scholastic placement commiserate with your income and social status.” “The fucking rich kids at that fucking prep school you’ve enrolled me in do everything they can to make me unwelcome. They trip me in the halls and on the stairs, they move desks around so that I cannot find my place in classrooms, and they do everything they can do to physically abuse me in the restrooms. The fucking teachers do nothing about what those students do to me. If I had my way, I’d fucking sue that fucking school for noncompliance with federal disability accommodation laws. I want the fuck out of that school; and, I’ve found a way to be educated and not attend one of your socially acceptable schools. If you don’t allow me to change schools, I swear I’m going to find me a new attorney and sue the fucking pants off you.” “Now, now, I’m sure we can find a solution to this without resorting to having you move to Brooklyn.” “But, that’s what I want. Weren’t you listening to me?” “Erik, you must understand that to get ahead in this country, you have to lay a respectable groundwork in order to progress in society. Living in Brooklyn and being homeschooled will do nothing for you to achieve your place in good society.” “You fucking bastard, I do not care about being in good society. I want to live close to the boy I love and to attend a homeschool placement with him. Why can’t you understand that?” “My dear boy, although you have been emancipated, you are still a minor under my judicial control. You will go to the school I have selected, you will live in the residence I have selected, and from this day forward you will not see that boy you claim to be your lover. Do you have any questions?” “You can’t do this to me.” “Erik Robertson, you will return to your school, now, and you will not trouble me further. Now, get out of my office!” Erik stood up, extended his cane, and swiping it across his path to the door knocked to the floor various and sundry vases and objets d’art on tables between. The crash and crinkle of porcelain and pottery falling to the hardwood floor did little to allay his anger. He came to the door and by memory reached out and pulled the door in until it crashed against some statuary standing on a pedestal, knocking it to the floor with a crash. He walked through the door and slammed it behind him. “Do you need help down to the sidewalk?” a voice asked. “No, I think I’ve got it memorized,” Erik said as he swung his cane in wide swipes as he walked across the room. He came to a wall and felt for the door handle, but didn’t find it. He moved to his right feeling the wall and when he didn’t find a door handle he moved back to his left. When he reached a point where his cane knocked a lamp onto the floor with a crash, he screamed, “Where the fuck is the door?” “Let me escort you,” the previous voice said. “Oh, fuck!” Erik exclaimed. “Why the fuck can’t you arrange your furniture for blind people?” “Please, sir, let me escort you downstairs.” “Oh, fuck, go ahead!” The receptionist escorted Erik out of the office, over to the elevators, and, once arriving on the first floor, out onto the sidewalk. “I’ll take over, now,” Franklyn said. “Ah, Franklyn, take me home,” Erik said. “Your school is still in session,” Franklyn said. “Take me home, damn it!” “Yes, sir; please come across the sidewalk to your car.” Erik got in the backseat, fastened his seatbelt, and, after hearing Franklyn get in, said, “I’m sorry I was so abrupt, but my visit with Mr. Morgan didn’t go well. I want to go home where I can think about what I’m going to do next.” “He’s your trustee,” Franklyn said. “There isn’t much you can do without jeopardizing your inheritance.” “Yeah, that’s my problem. Take me home.” “Yes, sir.” * * * Erik sat in his study and picked up his phone. He dialed Ben’s number and waited for his boyfriend to pick up the phone. “Hello?” Ben said. “Hey, how’re you doing?” Erik said. “Oh, hi, say I’m in the middle of my math lesson. Can I call you back during my break?” “Yeah, sure, talk to you then.” He heard the dial tone when Ben hung up and pushed the END button on his phone. He stared out into the empty, dim grayness of his near total blindness. He dialed 4-1-1 and waited for the operator to come online. “Operator, what is your party?” “I need an attorney.” “What kind?” “Estate planning.” “I have fourteen estate planning attorneys listed in area code 212. Do you want them?” “Yes, but I’m blind. Could you wait a moment until I get my laptop?” “Yes, sir, I’ll wait three minutes.” Erik hurried through the apartment and into his bedroom where he went to the desk, but couldn’t find his laptop. He searched across the entire surface of the desk, but the laptop was nowhere to be found. “Bea! Where’s my laptop?” Erik screamed, but there was only silence. He hurried out into the living room and yelled, “Bea! Where the fuck is my laptop?” There was only silence. He went to Bea’s room and pounded on the door, but no one came to answer it. “Bea! Where are you!” Erik screamed, but there was no answer. He went to his phone and listened, but there was only dial tone. He walked over to the recliner beside the window overlooking Central Park and disgustedly flopped down in the chair. After a few minutes, Erik got up and walked over to the stereo. He thumbed through his vinyls until he came to one that he pulled out of the rack and felt along the top edge until he came to the Braille embossed tape and read with his fingers “Rhapsody in Blue,” “American in Paris,” etc. by Leonard Bernstein and the New York Philharmonic, et al. He took the record out of the sleeve and placed it on the turntable’s spindle. He returned to his stack of vinyl records and thought for a moment before counting along the records until he came to one that he pulled out. With his fingers he felt along the Braille embossed strip and read “Appalachian Spring,” “American Festival Overture,” “Adagio for Strings, Op. 11,” “Overture Candide,” by Leonard Bernstein and the Los Angeles Philharmonic. He removed the record from the sleeve and placed it on top of the other record. He turned on the stereo and heard the first record drop onto the turntable. He went back to the recliner as loud orchestral music filled the apartment. Somewhere in the middle of “Adagio for Strings” Miss Bea came into the apartment with two bags of groceries. She went over to the stereo and turned down the sound. “What did you do that for?” Erik asked. “It was playing too loud,” Miss Bea said. “The super complained. Why aren’t you in school?” “I’m not going to that school ever again.” “You have to go to school. How do you expect to make something of yourself unless you go to school?” “Miss Bea, if you haven’t noticed, I’m blind. I will never make something of myself by going to that fucking prep school. I’m defective, disabled, and worthless. There’s no point in me going to some white, uppity, prep school when I’m never going to get into a top-flight university based on my excellent academic record because that won’t matter because I’m fucking blind.” “It’s that boy from Brooklyn who’s ruining your mind. That’s what it is.” “Ben has nothing to do with this other than he is being homeschooled because he’s so far behind in his studies he might not ever amount to anything. Where’s my laptop? What have you done with it?” “It’s in your bookbag.” “Where’s my bookbag?” “It would be where you leave it every afternoon when you come home from school, but did you leave it in the car?” “How the fuck should I know.” Ben sat in the recliner steaming with anger he couldn’t suppress. He stood up and walked across the room and bumped into the coffee table, which caused him to fall forward until he caught himself on a book on the table, which caused him to slide forward until his right shin slammed into the coffee table. “Why did you move the coffee table?” Erik yelled. “I didn’t move anything,” Bea said. “You walked into it by mistake.” “I don’t make mistakes!” “You keep this up and I’m leaving!” “Leave then! Get the fuck out of my life! Go! Get out!” Ben worked his way around the coffee table and flopped down on the sofa. He heard a door slam and assumed it was Bea going into her suite. “Good riddance,” he said to himself; and, then yelled, “Fuck! I hate being blind!” He stood up and worked his way around the coffee table. Once past the table, he walked toward the recliner and pulled open the draperies covering the slider to the terrace. He’d never been out there, but today seemed to be a good day to go out. He pulled at the door handle, but didn’t move, so he felt along it and found the lock lever. He pulled it up and tried to move the door, but it still didn’t move. “Why the fuck is the door locked?” Erik screamed. Meanwhile, in Miss Bea’s room she was sitting on her bed with her cell at her ear. She listened to the ring tones until someone answered, “Bellini, Bannister and Morgan, how may I direct your call?” “Mr. Morgan, please,” Miss Bea said. “May I ask who is calling?” “Miss Beatrice Johannsen.” “One moment.” As Miss Bea listened to the music, she realized it was something Erik listened to. She began to think maybe she shouldn’t tell the boy’s lawyer things were going bad and that he hadn’t gone to school. She had a nice position here, even though Erik was troublesome sometimes; but, was he that much of a problem? It was all because of his disability. Come to think of it, everything was because of his inability to handle his blindness. “Miss Bea, so good of you to call,” Mr. Morgan said. “I’m sorry to have to call you, sir, but Erik is being most unreasonable today.” “He’s not in school?” “No, sir, he’s home and was playing his music so loud the super complained to me when I came home from the grocery. Plus, he told me he doesn’t want me as his housekeeper.” “I see. Okay, I’ll come over and have a talk with him.” “It’s that boy from Brooklyn that’s causing this.” “Yes, I know, but I guess I’ll have to speak with him about that matter, again. I’ll leave right now.” Miss Bea closed her phone and went out to put the groceries away. As she walked into the living room she didn’t see Erik, but did see that the door to the terrace was open. She knew the door had been bolted shut to prevent Erik inadvertently going out and possibly falling over the railing. She hurried to the door and saw Erik sitting on the railing. “Oh, my God!” Miss Bea screamed. “Erik! Get off the railing.” “Go away! Leave me! I don’t care anymore.” There was a crashing sound from inside the apartment and footsteps approaching. A policeman came out onto the terrace and said, “Don’t do it, boy. Come on, be a good boy and get off the railing.” “Who the fuck are you to tell me what to do?” Erik said. “He’s troubled because he’s blind,” Miss Bea said. Unbeknownst to Erik, a second policeman came out of the apartment and carefully walked up to the boy. With one quick lurch, the policeman reached out and grabbed Erik’s arms. Erik struggled, but the policeman had too good of a hold on him and he felt himself being pulled down onto the concrete floor. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Erik screamed as he felt someone putting handcuffs on his wrists. “Be gentle with him; he’s blind,” Miss Bea said. “Are you his mother?” “No, I’m his housekeeper. The door was bolted shut.” “Well, somehow he figured how to open it.” “What are you going to do with him?” “He’s going down to Bellevue for a little visit.” “Come on, son, up on your feet,” one of the policemen said. “Who’s his next of kin?” “Erik has been emancipated, but his lawyer is his trustee. That’s Benedict Morgan. I think I have one of his cards in the kitchen.” Miss Bea walked into the apartment followed by one of the policemen. The other escorted Erik inside and told him to sit in the recliner. “Okay, Harry, I got the lawyer’s number,” one of the policemen said. “Let’s give the boy a nice tour of Manhattan.” “Come along, you,” the policeman with Erik said. “My name is Erik.” “Okay, come along, Erik, and no funny business.” “Erik, you be good,” Miss Bea said. “Yeah, see you around.” * * * “Hello, how are you today?” the doctor at the desk asked. “Fine,” Erik said. “Any complaints?” “No.” “I expect complaints, since you are not living in your residence.” “I tried to commit suicide; how am I supposed to expect my living situation to be something of my choosing?” “Interesting. According to your file you live in the Upper East Side in an apartment overlooking Central Park; and, yet, you tried to commit suicide from your terrace with that beautiful view. That is quite a psychological statement.” “I’m blind; what do you expect me to do?” “From what I’ve gathered from your attorney, you are quite wealthy, yet you desire to live with or near to a boy who lives in Brooklyn and is in a foster care life situation. How do you explain that?” “I love him.” “Yet, you are blind. How do you know he loves you back?” “Because he said he does.” “Do you believe him?” “Why wouldn’t I believe him?” “Well, he could be saying he loves you to get into a relationship with you such that he would gain access to your wealth.” “You’re a fuck head to suggest such a thing. I know Ben loves me and there isn’t anything you can say to me that will change my belief that Ben loves me, unconditionally.” “You are fifteen and this Ben is nearly seventeen. Soon he will be eighteen and eligible to move out into a living situation beyond his foster care. How do you expect to associate with him if you have not yet achieved majority?” “I’ve been emancipated. That should count for something.” “Unfortunately, as far a sex laws go in this state, if he has sex with you he could face arrest, incarceration for some time, and end up being identified as a sexual predator. Are you willing to possibly subject him to a life with that label?” “I don’t know. That’s all a bunch of legal mumbo jumbo that doesn’t apply to me.” “But, it does and you’re going to have to deal with it whether you like it or not.” “Why can’t I just be blind, play the guitar, and pretend to go to school by doing it on a computer?” “You play the guitar?” “Yes, but it’s only an acoustic one.” “Have you ever considered playing professionally?” “How can I do that and go to that fucking prep school my trustee says I have to attend?” “What if I spoke with Mr. Morgan, would you acquiesce to such a conversation?” “What if he says I have to go to that fucking prep school?” “I could say that you have the talent to become a professional guitar player, if you had sufficient backup to your performance. Do you think that boy in Brooklyn has some music talent?” “I haven’t discussed that with him, but I will as soon as I’m able to speak with him. I understand that Mr. Morgan, my trustee, is establishing some form of legal restriction on me speaking with Ben.” “What if I speak with Mr. Morgan?” “I’d like to say that I’ll appreciate that, if it’s possible that he’ll acquiesce to me talking to Ben, again.” “Let’s see what happens, okay?” “Sure, okay. Oh, when do I get out of this place?” “When you’re no longer suicidal.” “Move me to a townhouse in Brooklyn and you can be assured I won’t try to jump.” “I’ll relay that to Mr. Morgan.” “Like he’s going to pay attention to what I want.” “There’s always hope. “Maybe for you.” * * * “Well, I never expected to be meeting one of my clients in this facility,” Mr. Morgan said. “What do you have to say for yourself.” “Fuck you,” Erik said. “I have served a restraining order on your so-called boyfriend’s foster parents. He won’t bother you anymore.” “Fuck you.” “We didn’t discuss this before, but your stocks have increased in value, this year over last, by nearly seventeen percent; increasing your total asset value by almost fifteen percent.” “Fuck you.” “Your bonds are not performing as well as I expected last year, so I have initiated an order to sell half of your East Coast municipals and purchase Midwest and Mountain State industrials. I expect this situation to increase your portfolio by at least twenty-one percent over this year.” “Fuck you.” “What do you want other than associating with that boy in Brooklyn?” “Fuck you.” “I see. Well, I can’t see any reason for me to be here any longer. Please try to get better. Miss Bea is looking forward to your return.” “Fuck you.” Mr. Morgan left the visiting room and Erik waited for someone to come and get him. Of course, he could attempt to get out of the room on his own, but why risk injuring himself on the edge of some chair or table. Plus, in all reality, he had no idea where the door was. So, he waited. He heard the door open, close, and the latch on the door being fastened. He heard footsteps coming in his direction. To his left he heard the scraping sound of a chair being pulled away from the table. Someone sat down and said, “I understand you think you’re gay. I got a hard-on that needs satisfaction. Turn your chair away from the table. I want you to blow me.” “Help me!” Erik screamed. “There isn’t anyone out there right now. They’re having a bit of trouble with one of your fellow patients. Come on, pretty boy, turn around so I can put my cock in your delicious faggot mouth.” “For God’s sake! Help me!” “Ain’t nobody coming, pretty boy, get yourself around for me.” “Help me! Why won’t anyone help me!” “Ain’t nobody there. It’s just you and me pretty boy.” Erik heard the other chair scraping back away from the table. He started uncontrollably trembling and slipped forward under the table and onto the floor. “Why you fucking faggot get up here and suck my cock,” the other man hissed. Erik drew himself up into a fetal position and started moaning. He thought he heard someone trying to open the door. Then someone screamed, “Robert! What the fuck are you doing in here. My God, you were going to abuse him, weren’t you?” “Fuck off, Julie. Get out of here; this boy’s mine.” “You stupid fuck. Somebody get in here! Robert’s trying to rape Erik.” “What’s going on?” “Oh, Jesus, Robert put that thing back in your pants.” “Call Security! We need to get this man out of here.” “Come on, you, you’ve done it this time.” “Get away from me!” “Get him on the floor. Where’s Security?” “They’ll be here in a few.” “Oh, my God, the boy, he’s frozen in fear. Get a sedative stat.”
  9. Chapter 8 - God's Day

    Yes, Ben has had a hard life and feels put upon by those around him. Erik seems to be his only hope.
  10. Chapter 8 - God's Day

    Yes, he's a darling. Unfortunately, he has a bit of spunk, too.
  11. Chapter 8 - God's Day

    “Good morning, lover,” Erik whispered in Ben’s ear, who opened his eyes and turned his head until he was facing the other boy. “Is that what I am?” Ben whispered. “After last night, I have to assume so. Didn’t you enjoy yourself?” “I enjoyed you.” “Yes, and I enjoyed you, too. I’ve had my morning pee. Do you need to go or do you want to stay here and get to know me better?” “I’d better go,” Ben said as he slipped out of the bed. “Be right back.” When he returned, he saw that Erik had pushed all the bedcovers down to the foot of the bed and was idly lying on the red and green flannel bottom sheet softly stroking his hard cock. Ben climbed up on the bed and Erik said, “Oh, hi, that didn’t take long.” “No, the worst part was trying not to think of you because that kept my cock hard. Finally, I thought of my mother doing smack in the bathroom and my cock softened enough for me to pee.” “I bet you’re not soft now,” Erik said as he searched Ben’s body until he took the other boy’s cock in his hand. “What do you want me to do with it?” “I don’t know; maybe, you should just do what you want.” “I was hoping you would say that. I want you to fuck me.” “Are you sure? I’ve never done that.” “There’s always a first time. But, first, I want you to rim me.” “What do you mean?” “Here I’ll make it easier for you,” Erik said as he pulled his legs up until his knees were beside his head. “See my ass?” “What do I do with it,” Ben asked worriedly. “Kiss it. Lick it. Imagine it’s my mouth. Love it. Make it moist and welcoming for you cock.” “Do I have too?” Ben asked. “Come on, lover, make love to me.” Ben laid down on the bed and spread Erik’s ass cheeks. He stared at the object of requested deed and leaned in a little until his lips touched the puckered hole. He tentatively stuck out his tongue and licked around the smooth skin. He thought of his own hole with all the hair that was around it, but Erik didn’t have any hair down here. What had he done? “Let me have your cock,” Erik said. “You can love my hole while I suck your cock.” Ben got up on his knees, crawled up to Erik’s head, and straddled him so that his cock was over the other boy’s mouth. He lowered himself until his mouth was once again focused on Erik’s smooth hole. He tried not thinking of what was occurring with his cock as he focused his mind and mouth on what was before him; except, he couldn’t ignore the sensations he was experiencing from Erik’s mouth on his cock. He didn’t know what to do other than to raise up a little until he could take Erik’s smaller cock in his mouth. He didn’t know quite what to do with it, but he did have the sense to keep his teeth from the tender skin. He worked his tongue over the head while pressing against the shaft with his lips. After an untold number of minutes, Ben felt the unmistakable sensation of an orgasm building in his balls. He redoubled his efforts on the cock in his mouth and as he felt the overwhelming sensation of come erupting from his, he felt his mouth being filled with Erik’s come. The taste, as he experienced the previous night, was acridly sweet and he swallowed until the come ceased spurting on his tongue. He waited a moment and then rolled off Erik. “Wow! That’s was great,” Erik whispered. “I can’t believe that was only the second time you’ve done that.” “I just did what you were doing to me,” Ben said. “Was it okay?” “Come here, lover, and kiss me.” Ben scooted beside Erik and they kissed as young lovers. In doing so, Ben felt Erik’s hand grasp his cock. He couldn’t do anything except give into the other boy’s seemingly constant need for sex. “There’s lube in my nightstand,” Erik whispered. “Put some on your cock and in my hole.” Ben did as he was told and soon he had the head of his cock pressed against Erik’s slicked opening. “Come on, Ben, enter me,” Erik said. Ben pushed his cock into Erik until he couldn’t go any farther. He held himself for a moment until pulling back half the length of his cock and then pushed back in. “Oh, yes, lover, fuck me like you mean it,” Erik hissed. Ben adjusted himself so that Erik’s thighs were resting on his shoulders and then he assaulted the younger boy as vigorously as he could. “Oh, Ben, fuck me,” Erik breathed. “Oh, God, do it! Do it! Do it!” Ben looked down and resting his shoulders on Erik’s thighs, he moved his hands over the other boy’s nipples and pinched them as hard as he could. “Oh, God, Ben, do it!” Erik hissed as he took hold of his hard cock and pulled at it. “Do it, Ben, do it!” Ben felt the orgasm rising in his balls and he buried his cock deep in Erik’s ass. As he came, he watched come spurt out of Erik’s cock and splash onto his chest and abdomen. Ben stayed in the other’s ass as long as he could before, finally, pulling out. He laid down on Erik and kissed him as only young lovers kiss. “Was that okay?” Ben asked. “Oh, God, yes, I’ve never been fucked so good.” “You’ve been fucked before?” “To be honest, no; you’re my first. But, I wanted you so much, I couldn’t let you stop.” Ben let that thought cycle through his mind and, finally, realized that he must be gay. How else was it possible that he could love Erik and not be gay? He leaned back until his mouth met Erik’s and kissed him deeply. He noticed that he was still hard, but he rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. “You know, Erik, I still can’t believe I’m gay,” Ben said. “Maybe you’re not.” “How can I not be? I’ve sucked your cock, made love to your ass, and fucked you, that certainly doesn’t make me straight.” “No, but maybe you’re bi,” Erik said. “What’s that?” “You like having sex with girls and boys.” “Erik, I only love having sex with you.” “Then, my dear lover, I suppose you are gay. Do you have a problem with it?” “I don’t know how the people I live with will take it?” “Didn’t you tell me their son was gay?” “Yes, but I’m their foster kid. If they don’t like me, they can have me assigned to some group home.” “From what I’ve seen, they’re not going to do any such thing. From what you’ve said, they’re the most loving people in the world. No, Ben, you can be as gay as you want and I am very happy that you love me as much as I love you. Okay?” “Okay,” Ben said. He leaned over and kissed Erik; and, then he kissed him on the neck, chest, abdomen, and took Erik’s cock into his mouth. It quickly hardened, but Erik said, “No, not now, we have to get ready for church. Plus, we have to have breakfast before we go.” Ben came up from the stiff cock and kissed Erik full on his mouth. When he came up, he said, “Okay, lover, we can finish this in the shower.” * * * The boys sat down at the dining table and waited for Erik’s housekeeper to bring in breakfast. Ben looked around the dining room and noticed two paintings on either side of the table. Although he wasn’t educated in art, he did recognize these works of art as probably being quite expensive considering Erik’s wealth. Rich people hung very good art, but poor people generally hung prints of something mediocre that appealed to their uneducated taste. “Your paintings are interesting,” Ben said. “Yes, my attorney picked them out. I can’t see them, of course, so they’re meant to impress my guests.” “How many guests do you have?” “You’re the first. I’m not too popular at school. I’m defective and rich kids don’t like defectives.” “That’s not right.” “No, but what can I do about it?” “You could be homeschooled, like me.” “You said that yesterday.” “Well, you could come over to Brooklyn and be homeschooled by Miss Sylvia and Mr. Thompson.” “I’ll have to check with my attorney.” “Is he your guardian or something?” “Yeah, something.” “Ah, you two have finally come out of the bedroom,” Miss Bea said at the kitchen door. “Are you ready for breakfast?” “Yes, something light, we’re going to the Lutheran church this morning,” Erik said. “And, then have something more substantive afterward.” “Very good,” Miss Bea said. “I thought you go to a Unitarian church,” Ben said. “Usually, I do, but I’m thinking we should go to the Lutheran church today.” “Why?” “Oh, I don’t know, maybe it’s because I’ve found a boyfriend and want to make sure God is on my side.” “Are you going to tell everyone we’re having sex?” “Don’t be so crude. No, I just want to let Pastor John know that we’re friends and might be back.” “Friends, huh? Here we’re boyfriends, but in church we’re only friends.” “Do you want me to tell him we’re boyfriends?” “Well, aren’t we?” “Are you really willing to be ID’d as gay?” “Aren’t you?” “Well, yes, but they already know I’m gay.” “How?” “I told them in Sunday school.” “Are we going to Sunday school?” “We can, if you want.” “Okay boys, here’s your Cream of Wheat and your orange juice,” Miss Bea said as she came out of the kitchen. “Miss Bea, would you please describe Ben to me,” Erik said. “Well, he’s rather slender, his hair is what some might call dirty blond, his whiskers on his upper lip and chin are darkening, his eyes are brown, his eyebrows are long and thin, his face is long and angular, his nose is rather long and it ends in a definite point, he has thin lips, his ears are longer than round and his earlobes hang free, and his sideburns are longer than the whiskers beside his ears.” “Thank you, that was excellent.” After Miss Bea disappeared back into the kitchen, Ben said, “Why do you want to know what I look like?” “Well, you see, I can’t actually see you. It’s all tactile impressions. Like I can’t tell the color of your hair, your eyes, or that your whiskers are probably darkening because they’re actually turning into whiskers rather than the peach fuzz on my face. I knew about your earlobes and your lips, but I didn’t have a clear picture of your face. I thought it was long and narrow, but now I know it is angular, too. Let’s eat because we need to get ready to go to church.” “Is this all we’re having for breakfast?” Ben asked. “For now, yes, but after church we’ll have a big lunch at an Italian place I know on the other side of the park.” “Do you want to go to the park?” “Why? I can’t see anything.” “But, parks are beautiful places to visit.” “Ben, look at me. Do you see a boy who can see the beauty of a park?” “Well, no, but …” “No, buts, I don’t want to be reminded of that place over there.” “But, why did you move here?” “My attorney thought I would enjoy being near the park.” “But, you don’t.” “Yes, and that’s the problem. My attorney didn’t listen to what I wanted, but my apartment is quite sufficient to my needs, so I won’t be leaving.” “They have horse-drawn carriages over there.” “Why would I want to ride in such a thing. Ben, I can’t see the park. Hell, I couldn’t even see when the horse shit, though I certainly would smell it. No, I don’t need to go to the park.” “But, where do you want to go?” “I want to take a train trip to the Pacific Coast.” “Why there?” “Just ’cause. Will you go with me?” “Certainly.” “Good, we’ll go this summer sometime when I can get reservations.” Ben thought about travelling across the U.S. on a train, but couldn’t get a clear picture of where they would be going and how they would get there. He wondered if Ernie would let him go with Erik. How would it be for the two of them to travel to the other coast? “Where do you want to go on the Pacific Coast?” Ben asked. “L.A., definitely not San Francisco,” Erik said. “Why?” “Disneyland is south of L.A. and Six Flags is north of L.A. Plus, there is a beach near L.A. I like going to beaches. I was raised on the coast of Maine.” “So, where do I come into this trip?” Ben asked. “You’ll be with me, of course. Do you like rollercoasters?” “I don’t know; I’ve never been on one.” “Do you like the beach?” “As I said, I don’t know.” “Then you must go with me so that you experience these places and tell me what you think of them.” “Okay, whatever you say,” Ben said. “Good; are you finished with breakfast?” “In a minute.” Later, both boys exited the Mercedes and stood on the sidewalk in front of the church. Ben looked across the street and saw Central Park. To his right was a tall apartment building and across West 65th Street there was another apartment building. He knew he was definitely out of his world. “This is a fancy part of town,” Ben said. “Yes, isn’t it,” Erik said. “But, you have to remember the people around here are just like you and me only they have a lot more money. I’m blind and you’re my escort. Shall we go into the church?” “If you say so,” Ben said. “Take my arm and guide me inside.” After a few steps, Ben said, “Here are seven steps up to the door.” “Yes, I remember them,” Erik said. “Stay beside me in case I miss a step and trip.” Ben did as instructed and soon they were up to the door, which had been propped open. He guided Erik inside and they passed into the narthex. A deacon was standing at the doors to the nave and said, “It is good to see you, again, Erik. Is this a friend of yours?” “He’s my boyfriend,” Erik said. “His name is Ben.” “Welcome Ben; please escort Erik to the front pew.” Ben guided Erik through the nave to the front pew. There were quite a few worshippers on the left, so he directed Erik to the right. They worked their way past five worshippers and their friends until they came to a place where they could sit down. The pastor came out of a side door and started to welcome the handicapped congregants on the left side of the nave. Eventually, he came to Erik and Ben, where he said, “Erik, it’s nice to see you today.” “Thank you, Pastor Larsen.” “And, this is?” “Oh, yes, this is Ben Hensley. He’s my boyfriend.” “Ben, welcome to Holy Trinity. Are you from around here?” “No, I live over in Park Slope.” “With your parents?” “No, I’m a foster child.” “Ah, yes, I see,” Pastor Larsen said as he moved back to the narthex. The organ transitioned into a carol and the choir joined in. Ben whispered in Erik’s ear, “He doesn’t like me because I’m from Brooklyn.” “Don’t be so paranoid,” Erik said. “He’s just not used to people coming from the hinterlands to participate in his service.” “Is that where I live, the hinterlands?” “Don’t let it worry you. A lot of Manhattanites look down on residents from the other boroughs.” “This better be good or I’m leaving,” Ben grumbled and then regretted the words. “Sorry, I’m not used to being looked down upon.” “Maybe, we should’ve gone to the Unitarian church,” Erik said. “I just thought you’d enjoy the service. Plus, they have Holy Communion here and welcome all to partake of it.” “What’s Holy Communion?” “Receiving the Blood and Body of Christ in remembrance of the Last Supper.” “What’s that?” “Do you believe Jesus Christ is the Son of God?” “Yeah, I think so, but I haven’t accepted Him as my Lord and Savior and been baptized, yet.” “What kind of church did you go to?” “Baptist.” “Oh, that’s different than Lutherans.” “What about Unitarians?” “Well, actually, they’re different than Lutherans, too.” “Are they like Baptists?” “No, I don’t think so. I have a booklet at home that explains what Lutherans believe, but since it isn’t in Braille I had Miss Bea read it to me. Oh, the service is starting. We’ll talk later, okay?” “Okay, if you say so.” * * * Ben sat in the Mercedes as it drove up Central Park West until it turned on West 72nd Street. He was deep in thought about his preceding experience at Erik’s Lutheran church. It certainly was different from what he remembered occurring at the Baptist church his mother took him to. It seemed more formal and the taking of Holy Communion was very different from what occurred in a Baptist church. He didn’t partake, but made sure Erik was kneeling at the railing for the first pew. He remembered the Pastor looking at him as if he was something unwelcome in his church. The Mercedes turned left on Columbus Avenue and headed south. Eventually, they came to a traffic circle and went around until they came to Broadway where they turned right and continued south. After a few blocks, they turned left and after a block stopped in front of a restaurant. Franklyn came around and opened the door. Erik got out and stood on the sidewalk until Ben got out and stood beside him. “How many people are in line?” Erik asked. “No one on the outside,” Ben said. “Good, let’s go in,” Erik said as he folded up his cane and held his right arm so that Ben could escort him into the restaurant. “Franklyn, we shouldn’t need you for a couple hours.” “Right you are, sir,” Franklyn said. He walked around the Mercedes, got in, and drove off. Ben escorted Erik to the double front door where he opened one and stood aside so Erik could precede him into the restaurant. He entered and let the door shut behind him before he came up to Erik and escorted him to the front desk. The hostess looked up, smiled, and said, “Ah, Erik Robertson, how may we serve you today?” “A booth by the window, please,” Erik said. “Yes, sir, I have your regular table reserved; if you will follow me,” the hostess said, as she took a menu from the rack and turned toward the front window. Ben escorted Erik through tables that were already occupied by couples, threesomes, and foursomes. They came to a booth that had a placard that said ‘Reserved’ and the hostess said, “Here we are, Erik, may I get you something to drink?” “Coke,” Erik said as he slipped into his side of the booth. “Sprite,” Ben said as he slipped into the opposite side. “Very good; Veronica will be with you in a moment with your drinks,” the hostess said. “Did you go to church this morning?” “Yes, I introduced Ben to the Lutheran liturgy,” Erik said. “Ben, did you enjoy it?” the hostess asked. “It was different from what I was used to,” Ben said. “But, other than that, it was very interesting.” “And, what are you used to?” “Baptist services.” “Ah, yes, they would definitely be different than a Lutheran service. Oh, well, I must get back to my duties; enjoy your visit to Mama Colombo’s.” “She was nice,” Erik said. “Yes,” Ben said. “What’s wrong?” Erik asked. “I guess I’m overwhelmed from what happened at that church.” “What do you mean?” “That pastor kept looking at me as if I wasn’t welcome there.” “You’re just being paranoid.” “No, he didn’t like me being there.” “Well, once you start taking classes to become a member, he’ll be more welcoming.” “What if I don’t want to become a member of that church?” “Why wouldn’t you want to be?” “Because they don’t want me there because I’m a foster child from Brooklyn for one.” “That’s two reasons.” “They’re one as far as I’m concerned.” “What if we could find a Lutheran church in Brooklyn; would you be willing to go to there?” “If you can find one, I’ll go with you.” “Good, I’ll check. Now, what’re we having for lunch?” “I don’t know what to order,” Ben said as he thumbed through the menu. “What do you want?” “I haven’t eaten a lot of Italian food; what should we order?” “Usually, I have the fettuccini in clam sauce with peas and broccoli,” Erik said. “Clams, peas, and broccoli? That sounds icky.” “Well, what do you want?” “Let me look; okay?” Ben looked through the menu and the first thing he noticed was the menu was separated into different types of pasta, sauce, and ingredients such as vegetables, meats, and cheeses. Then on the back cover there was a wide selection of pizzas, but none that he thought would be tasty. He went back to the front and saw rigatoni. “What’s rigatoni?” Ben asked. “It’s tube-like pasta, much like macaroni only bigger.” “What’s lasagna?” “It’s a broad, flat pasta that is made into a casserole.” “What is penne?” “It’s like rigatoni.” “What is ravioli?” “It’s a stuffed pasta.” “Okay, I think I’ll order a cheese ravioli in the red sauce.” “That’s a good choice. Now, all we need is our waitress.” “Do you like me?” Ben asked in a somber voice. “Why wouldn’t I like you?” “Well, you’re rich and I’m only a foster kid with no future. I’ll never be anything like you.” “Ben, you’re a beautiful boy who I like very much. Would you mind if I said I love you?” “That’s awfully definite.” “But, do you mind if I love you?” “Erik, you’re so much different than me. I don’t know how to react around you.” “Ah, may I take your orders, now,” the waitress said as she magically appeared at the table. “I’ll have the fettuccini in clam sauce with peas and broccoli,” Erik said. “That is a very good selection,” the waitress said. “And, you sir, what would you like?” “I’ll have the cheese ravioli in the red sauce,” Ben said. “And, another excellent choice,” the waitress said. “Are your beverages okay?” “They haven’t arrived, yet,” Ben said. “Oh, dear, I’m so sorry, I’ll get them and put in your orders,” the waitress said before she disappeared into the tables between the boys and the kitchen. “She’s not a very good waitress,” Ben said. “Veronica is the youngest daughter and hasn’t quite picked up what her duties are,” Erik said. “But, we were talking about your inferiority complex.” “What do you mean?” Ben asked. “You feel inferior to me and all that I represent.” “You have so many more opportunities than me. How can I expect to live anywhere close to your lifestyle?” “Ben, look at me. What do you see?” “A boy who has a lot of money and will be more than I’ll ever expect to be.” “Is that what you see by looking at me? Don’t you see that I’m blind?’ “Well, yes, of course, but you live across the street from Central Park, have a housekeeper, have a chauffeur, and a Mercedes SUV. I don’t have anything and I’ll never have anything.” “Ben, what if I said you could have half of everything I have?” “How would I have that?” “By marrying me.” “We’re just kids. How can you even think of being my husband?” “I’ll tell you what; I’m going to call my attorney and I’m going to have him find me a townhouse in Park Slope. And, then, I’m going to put in a homeschool room for us and, while you’ll have to work extra hard to advance to your age appropriate grade level, we’ll graduate from high school at the same time; and, we’ll go to a university together where you’ll help me to get my degree, while you get yours.” “That’s an awful lot of suppositions.” “Ben, I love you, and I want to live with you forever.” “Erik, I wish I could say the same to you,” Ben said as he looked across the table at the blind boy who wanted to be his lover. He wanted to believe that everything Erik said was going to happen, but he couldn’t quite hold onto the belief that everything would turn out as they wished. And, while Erik was only blind; he was well, still, mentally ill and any change in their living and educational situations were as far-fetched as he could imagine. He could not believe that Erik could convince his attorney that he needed to move to Brooklyn so that he and Erik could live close to each other. “Ben?” Erik asked, “What are you thinking?” “That your attorney is going to keep you in your apartment overlooking Central Park and will never agree that you should move to Brooklyn so you can be homeschooled with me.” “Well, I don’t agree with you and I’m going to prove it to you; if only to prove that I love you very much.” “I’ll believe it when it happens,” Ben said. “That’s all I ask,” Erik said.
  12. Chapter 7 - A Night At the Opera

    Why thank you for the loverly comment. Yes, I thought a bit of local color might add a little spice to the story.
  13. Chapter 7 - A Night At the Opera

    Benny sat on the living room sofa looking out the front window as he waited for Erik’s chauffeur to show up. His mind was mostly blank because he didn’t have any premonitions of what was going to happen tonight and tomorrow. It was still drizzling, but not enough to create puddles in the low spots on the sidewalk or street. Everything was simply damp and that’s all there was to it. He saw a black SUV coming down the street and felt his heart begin to pound in anticipation that this was Erik’s car. It double parked in front of the house and the driver—who was in a dark suit with a white shirt, turquoise tie, and black hat that reminded Benny of something a military person might wear—got out and came around the car. He came up the steps and rang the bell. “Mam! Erik’s chauffeur is here,” Benny called out. “You be good and remember not to come back too late tomorrow,” Mam called from somewhere in the house. Benny stood up, picked up his overnight bag, and went to the door. After he opened it, the chauffeur said, “Master Benjamin? Master Erik sends his compliments, but he was unable to accompany me. If you would be so good as to come with me, we will be on our way. Please, allow me to take your bag.” “Sure,” Benny said. “Do you have a name?” “I am Franklyn. You may address me as such.” “Okay,” Benny said. He went quickly down the stairs and made to get in the front seat. “I’m sorry, sir, but your place is in the backseat,” Franklyn said. “Oh, sure.” Franklyn opened the backdoor and Benny got in. He turned and saw the chauffeur put his bag in the back of the car; and, then Franklyn came around. got into the driver’s seat, and said, “Sir, Master Erik insists that I take you to his tailor for a fitting of a tuxedo and black shoes.” “Why?” Benny asked. “I don’t have any money for that.” “Master Erik will cover the cost.” “But, why?” “Oh, Master Erik is taking you to the opera tonight and he wants you to appear presentable at his side.” “Well, I’ll be; he never mentioned anything about that.” “No, that seems to be Master Erik’s modus operandi in situations such as this.” Benny sat back in the seat and tried to enjoy the ride into Manhattan. Unfortunately, Franklyn was a very aggressive driver and moved through the traffic as if the appointment with the tailor was only minutes away. Benny recognized that they were going toward the Manhattan Bridge, but before they got to the bridge Franklyn turned right and was soon on a freeway that was elevated over the city. “You didn’t take the Manhattan Bridge,” Benny said. “No, we’re going uptown and I’ll be taking the Queens Midtown Tunnel,” Franklyn said. “Under the water?” Benny asked worriedly. “Does, sir, have a problem with that?” “I’ve never been in a tunnel before. Are you sure it’s safe?” “I can tell that, sir, is distressed; therefore, I’ll go upriver to the Triborough Bridge and then down the FDR to Forty-Ninth Street.” “Thank you, Franklyn.” “No problem, sir. If I may say so, you seem to have a bit of a Southern accent.” “Yes, but we came up north when I was eight or nine, I can’t remember exactly when.” “Then you’ve been living in the city since then.” “No, we lived in Lyons.” “Where is that?” “Up on the Erie Canal in Wayne County.” “Wayne County? Then you knew Master Erik before he moved down to the city.” “Yes, briefly.” “Ah, I see. And, you live with your parents, now?” “No, I’m in foster care.” “Is it a pleasant placement?” “Yeah, my dad played pro football and he had the two adjoining townhouses combined into one. His mother, son, and I live in one; and, he, his wife, and daughter live in on the other side. Oh, and he owns a restaurant near his home.” “What is the cuisine?” “The what?” “Oh, sorry; what type of food do they sell?” “Southern; in fact, the place is called Mam’s Southern Kitchen. I was supposed to be working there today, but I’ve only been with them since Wednesday and I couldn’t do it. They’re practically strangers to me.” “I understand how you feel.” “You do? Were you a foster child?” “Oh, no, but my wife and I foster a couple of children at our home in Queens. When the little girl first came to us, she was very shy for a few months, but now she’s just one of the family.” “Are you going to adopt? Like what happened with Erik?” “Master Erik was a foster child?” “He was living in a foster home, but I think his foster dad adopted him. He died and all the foster boys had to go elsewhere; except, Erik. A man came and took him away. We never knew what happened to him.” “Did you go into another foster placement there?” “No, I was sick and they sent me to an institution over by Albany.” “And, you’re better now?” “Oh, yes; you see, I had a stroke and my brain changed. My psychiatrist says it’s a miracle I’m not like I was before. She said some experts at a place called the NIMH can’t quite believe it happened, but two of them interviewed me and gave me a lot of tests. They’re still not quite sure what happened, but I am better now. Though it is hard for me to understand things and remember things.” Benny watched as the car made its way through traffic on an expressway that Franklyn said was FDR Drive. Benny wanted to ask what FDR stood for, but figured he’d just forget it if someone ever asked him where he’d gone. The interesting thing though was that they were on the other side of the East River. He remembered Ernie telling him that was the water the Manhattan and Brooklyn Bridges went over. He didn’t quite know why it was called the East River, so he decided to ask Franklyn. “Franklyn, why do they call that water out there the East River?” “It’s called that because it is on the eastside of the city.” “The city? I thought Brooklyn was part of the City of New York.” “Well, it is, but in the early days the island of Manhattan was all there was to the city and the East River was on the eastside.” “Oh, okay, that makes sense.” “Of course, just to set the record straight, the East River isn’t actually a river.” “Then what is it?” “It’s a tidal estuary between Long Island Sound to the north and New York Bay to the south; and, to complicate things a bit the Harlem River ties into the East River up near the Triborough Bridge, but the Harlem River isn’t a river, either. Technically, it’s called a tidal straight between the Hudson River and the East River.” “You certainly know an awful lot about New York City.” “Before becoming a private chauffeur, I was private tour operator. Some tourists who come to the city prefer touring the city in a smaller vehicle and that’s what I did for nearly twenty years.” “Why did you change?” “I got a better offer; and, now, working for Master Erik, I make a sufficient income to afford a house out in Queens, a wife, two foster children, and three longhaired Chihuahuas.” “What are those?” “Very little dogs that are full of love.” “I wish I had a dog.” “Why don’t you ask your foster parents if you can have one? Oh, here we are and look we’ve got a parking spot right in front.” Franklyn got out and came around and opened the door for Benny who got out and stood on the sidewalk. “This way, sir,” Franklyn said. Benny went up to the door, which Franklyn opened. There was a rather short, balding man with gray hair and a thin, white mustache who said, “Ah, yes, our formal attire customer.” “Master Benjamin, I will leave you, but I will wait in the car,” Franklyn said. * * * Benny looked around the shop at the bolts of material stacked on the shelves, the black and brown shoes aligned in a rack in the corner, and the two tailors waiting for him. “Let me introduce us,” the man in the white mustache said. “I am Siegfried and this is my son Maximillian. I will size you for a tuxedo and dress shoes and Max will produce your tux, cummerbund, bowtie, and your dress shoes. Please come into our sizing arena.” Benny followed Siegfried into a small area of the shop that was shielded from the outside windows by shelves of material. “Oh, you’re wearing skinny jeans and a t-shirt,” Siegfried said. “How gauche, but at least you will not have to undress. Let me get your measurements. Please move your feet apart. Yes, that is sufficient.” Benny stood quietly as Siegfried went about his body measuring lengths and circumferences; and, lastly, the man had Benny stand on a metal device that he assumed was measuring his feet.” “What kind of shoes would you like to have for tonight’s performance?” Siegfried asked. “What kinds are there?” Benny asked. “Ah, a neophyte in the attire of the upper crust of society. Let me look at you. Ah, yes, you are not urban. Yes, definitely black wingtips. Max, the young gentleman shall wear black wingtips, size 11-B. For his tux, shirt, and cummerbund: inseam thirty-three, waist thirty-two, neck twelve and a half, sleeve thirty-three. You got that?” “Yes, Father.” “Boy, you may sit over there,” Siegfried said as he pointed to a bench over by the front window. Benny went over and sat down on the padded bench. It was then that he noticed the music that seemed to permeate the shop. He didn’t quite recognize the songs or melodies, so he asked, “The music; what is it?” “Jazz guitar,” Siegfried said. “It’s nice,” Benny said. Benny remained on the bench listening to the music and thinking of nothing. He was amazed how his mind could go away into the music and not be troubled with any unpleasant thoughts. After about an hour, Max came out of the backroom and came to Benny with a pair of black shoes. “Please remove your sneakers,” Max said as he sat on a stool in front of Benny. Benny did as he was told and smiled at the man on the stool. “Your stockings are atrocious,” Max said. “I haven’t been able to go to the store to buy new ones,” Benny said. “Yes, red and black argyle will be appropriate; please remove your stockings,” Max said as he stood up and went back through the curtains that separated the front of the shop from the backroom. After he came back, he held out a pair of red and black argyle socks and said, “Please put these on.” Benny did as he was told. “Now, let me put these shoes on your feet,” Max said as he held a shoe at Benny’s right foot and after slipping it on he held the other shoe at the boy’s left foot and slipped it on. He tied the laces of both shoes. “Please stand and walk across the room.” Benny did as he was told. “How do your shoes feel?” “They’re kind of big. It’s like I’m swimming in them.” “Uh, huh, we’ll try the ten and a halves.” Benny took off the shoes and Max took them and disappeared through the curtains. After a few minutes he came back and sat on the stool before Benny. He put the shoes on the boy, tied the laces, and said, “Please stand and walk around the room.” Benny did as he was told and said, “These feel a lot better.” “Are they tight on your heels?” “A little.” “I’ll give you some Band-Aids to put on your heels to prevent blisters until you become used to the shoes.” “Gee, thanks, I appreciate that,” Benny said. “Please take off the shoes and come with me,” Max said. Benny followed Max to the curtains and moved to the side of the aisle as instructed. He waited, not certain what was to occur. After a while, Max came through the curtains with some black slacks, a black suit jacket, a white shirt, and a broad black band of fabric. “Please, take off your jeans and put on the slacks,” Max said. Nervously, Benny took off his pants and took the black slacks from Max. There was already a belt through the loops in the slacks, but when he started to fasten the buckle, Max said, “No, not now.” He handed Benny the white shirt, which the boy put on and tucked into his pants. Max said, “You may fasten your belt now.” Benny did as he was told and Max came around behind. He turned Benny until he was facing a mirror. “Now, we’ll shall tie your bowtie,” Max said. “Please watch carefully because I will not be available to tie it before you go out tonight.” Max came up close to Benny’s back until the boy could feel the man’s erection pressing against his ass. He didn’t know what to do, but was certain if he broke away he’d never make it to Erik’s home today or any day in the future. Max turned up the collar of Benny’s white shirt and draped the bowtie around the boy’s neck; and, then put the collar down. “You have a lovely neck,” Max whispered before he lightly kissed Benny under his right ear. “Now, pay close attention as I tie your bowtie. You can’t leave until you’re able to tie it yourself. I definitely will not be with you tonight. Have you known dear Erik long?” “I met him not quite two years ago,” Benny said as he tried to concentrate on Max’s hands manipulating the tie while the man’s erection ground into his ass. But, to his horror Benny realized he was getting hard, too. He didn’t understand why this was happening, but his cock was definitely beginning to feel uncomfortable in the tightness of his underwear. “Ooh, you like this, don’t you?” Max said as one of his hands felt along the length of Benny’s hard cock. “I guess so; but, what about your father?” “He’s gone for the day. It’s just you and me, dear boy.” Benny didn’t know what to say or do, for that matter. He knew this was wrong, but what could he do? He certainly couldn’t run; not wearing these clothes. “Are you uncomfortable?” “Yeah, kinda.” “May I?” Max asked as his right hand slowly stroked the boy’s erection. “Uh, well, umm,” Benny mumbled. “I think we need a break from tying the bowtie. Come with me; we can be more comfortable in the backroom.” Benny allowed himself to be pulled through the curtains and into a side room where Max stopped. He went over to a table where he picked up a chair and brought it over to where Benny was standing. Max positioned the chair directly in front of the boy and sat down. “Do you want to take it out? Or, shall I?” Max asked as he rubbed Benny’s erection. Benny looked down at the older man and then he felt a buzzing sensation in his eyes as he fell forward onto the man. He was totally out of it as he crumpled to the floor. * * * The boys were sitting at Erik’s dining table eating a light dinner of braised pork cutlets, broccoli in a cream sauce, julienne potatoes au gratin, and a fresh garden salad with domestic blue dressing. Erik was drinking milk, but Benny was drinking Coke. “So, you fainted, right?” Erik said, “Yeah, I tend to do that in sexy situations,” Benny said. “Why?” “When I was little I was abused by my cousin.” “Oh, that would certainly mess your mind up.” “Tell me about it.” “So, you’re straight, right?” “I guess so.” “You mean you don’t know?” “How do you know?” “Well, if I could see, I’d say I get that certain feeling when I saw a cute guy.” “But, you can’t, so what do you do?” “Jack off to my memories of guys I remember as being cute.” “Don’t you have any guys you know at your school?” “I’m blind,” Erik said. “I’m the only kid in school who has a disability. I’m only there because my attorney is an alumnus and I’m rich. The other students avoid me as if I have the plague. I’m never selected to join a study team or any other activity involving the other students.” “That sounds horrible. Too bad you can’t come over to where I live and be homeschooled like me.” “Are your foster parents teaching you?” “No, they hired two tutors. Miss Sylvia teaches me language arts and French. Mr. Thompson teaches me history, social studies, math, and science. Other than Miss Sylvia’s lessons on French, it’s all done on computer. The tutors are there to answer questions that the computer programs can’t answer.” “Where do you take these classes?” “In my bedroom, but there’s an extra room in the basement of Mam’s townhouse I’m sure could be configured as a classroom for the both of us.” “What time is it?” Erik asked. “Nearly six-thirty, why?” “We need to get ready for the opera.” “What do we do about the dishes on the table?” “Oh, Miss Bea will take care of them.” “I can help.” “No, you’re a guest. Are you finished with dinner?” “Yes.” “Good, let’s go into my suite and get ready.” “You don’t use a cane in your apartment,” Benny said as he followed Erik toward the bedroom. “No, I know where everything is.” “What if your housekeeper moved something?” “She wouldn’t dare.” “Oh, yeah.” Once they got into the bedroom, Erik started undressing. Benny was hesitant to undress until Erik said, “Are you nervous about undressing in my presence?” “A little,” Benny said. “I’m totally blind; I can’t see you. I’m going to take a shower; care to join me?” “I guess,” Benny said as he started to take off his clothes. All the while he was watching Erik take off his clothes and was surprised at the speed which the other boy undressed. Soon, Erik was totally naked. “I’m going into the bathroom, now,” Erik said. Benny finished undressing and followed Erik into the bathroom. When he got past the door, Erik said, “Please shut the door. I don’t want any steam getting in my bedroom. Are you ready for our shower?” “Yeah, I guess,” Benny mumbled. “There’s no point in being scared,” Erik said. “I can’t see you. Come on, I promise not to touch you. As you can see, there’s plenty of room for two. Actually, I think there’s room for at least five.” Benny followed Erik into the shower and shut the glass door. He turned and watched the other boy wash his hair. “How old are you?” Benny asked. “Fifteen; you see, I had a hormone problem going into puberty and everything isn’t quite as it should be for my age. I’m still taking shots, but I’m not certain they’re doing anything. What do you think?” “I haven’t seen that many naked boys, so I really don’t know.” “How about you? Do you have a long cock or a shorty like mine?” “It’s longer than yours.” “Can I touch it?” “Well, I guess so.” Benny stood under the hot water as Erik’s hand enveloped his cock. It wasn’t long until it responded to the soft touch and started to harden. “Ooh, this is a nice one,” Erik whispered. “May I blow you?” “Sure, I guess,” Benny stammered. Soon, he felt Erik’s lips envelope his cock and the tongue quickly started to massage the underside of his cock head. He felt Erik’s hand take hold of his balls as he bobbed his head over the cock. Quite unconsciously, Benny’s hands took hold of Erik’s head as his hips began to thrust his cock into the other boy’s mouth. Erik was moaning now as he took Benny’s cock deep into his mouth. Benny felt his ball sack tighten and the orgasmic sensation swept over his body as he emptied his balls into Erik’s welcoming mouth. After he couldn’t come anymore, Erik came off his cock and stood up. “How was that?” Erik asked. “Wow, I’ve never had someone do that to me,” Benny said. “Did you like it?” “Oh, yes, that was so beautiful. Do you want me to do you?” “You don’t have to. I did that as much for me as you.” “But, I should do at least something.” “Okay, stand behind me and soap up my cock. Oh, yes, just like that. Shut your eyes and imagine you’re doing yourself, but please put a hand over one of my nipples. When I get hard, pinch it a little. Not too hard, but enough to make my cock harden. Oh, Jesus, yeah, like that. Harder, please a little harder and faster. Yes, yes, oh, god in heaven; Jesus, yes!” Benny felt the pulses on Erik’s orgasm as his hand held the other boy’s cock. Back in a dark corner of his mind he felt a strange twinge as if some part of him was enjoying this more than he thought. “That was nice,” Erik said. “You can do that to me whenever you want.” “I guess this means I’m gay,” Benny said. “Hey, no way! We just did a couple innocent sex acts. It’s not that we fucked. We just got each other off. That’s all we did.” “But, you enjoyed it; didn’t you?” “Of course, I did. Didn’t you notice I told you exactly how to make me come? Now, if we knew each other better, maybe I would’ve asked you to fuck me, but we just met and I prefer fucking in bed. Do you like to fuck?” “I’ve never done it.” “Well, maybe, if we get to know each other better we can fuck. Shit! We better get done. Go ahead and soap me up. Then I’ll do you. We can’t be late to the opera.” * * * “Did you enjoy the opera?” Erik asked with a wry smile as the boys stood in line at the all-night restaurant. “I don’t know,” Benny said. “I’ve never been to one of those things. There certainly seemed to be a lot of weird singing. Were they doing that on purpose?” “Benny, that’s opera. Next Saturday it’ll be something different.” “I’ll take you to your table, now,” the restaurant’s hostess said. “Help me along; will you, Benny?” “What have I been doing all night?” “Being the gentleman that you are,” Erik said as he slipped his arm between Benny’s bicep and chest. “Hey, sweeties, why’re you all dolled up?” asked an unshaven man with long black hair sitting in a booth with three other rather unkempt men. “Going to a fancy-dress party?” “We’ve been to the opera,” Erik said proudly. “They’ve been to the opera; well, if that isn’t a namby-pamby place for little queers,” the man sneered. “Let it be, Roger,” one of the other men at the table said. “Yeah, sure, been to the opera,” Roger continued. “You’re just a couple of queers. You hear me?” “Roger, you’re going to get us tossed out, again,” one of the men at the table said. “Is there a problem here?” the night manager asked when he came up to the table. “What have I told you about serving queers?” Roger said. “You keep serving queers and they’ll take over the place.” “Sir, I am going to ask you to leave, now,” the night manager said. “See, Roger, we’re being kicked out, again, because of your damned mouth.” “I’m not going,” Roger said, “and, you can’t make me.” “Then I have no alternative than to have you removed. Sidney, will you and Clarence please come here and escort this gentleman to the door?” “You think a couple of queers can toss me out?” The other three men at the table got up and one of the them said, “Come on, Roger, let’s go before they get physical.” “Queers? You’re afraid of a couple queers? Well, I’m not and I’m not going anywhere.” Sidney, who was six-six and weighed a little over two-eighty, came up to the table with Clarence, who was six-four and probably weighed two-sixty-three. As they stood there, the night manager said, “One last chance, sir; leave peaceably or Sidney and Clarence will remove you.” “Fuck off, faggot!” It has always been quite amazing how men of muscular substance can move with such speed and agility. Sidney pulled Roger out of the booth, whereupon Clarence grabbed the man’s other arm and lifted him off the floor. Together, the two muscular bouncers walked Roger down the aisle without him having to make a single step. When they arrived at the door, two of New York’s finest were waiting. “A bit of a problem with a customer?” one of the policemen asked. “Actually, yes, he’s been most abusive to our customers,” Clarence said. “Come along, you, or do we have to get physical, too,” the other policeman said. “Fuck off, faggot!” Roger exclaimed. “Ah, yes, it always comes to that,” the first policeman said. “All right, turn around nicely or do we have to get physical?” “Fuck off!” One of the policeman, a burly fellow who was used to walking his beat at night grabbed Roger, spun him around, and held him firmly while the other policeman applied shiny bracelets to his wrists. Meanwhile, the two boys were sitting in a booth sipping their soft drinks. Benny looked at his menu, but didn’t know what to order, since he didn’t have any money. “What’re you going to have?” Erik asked. “I don’t have any money,” Benny said. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got lots.” “Then I guess I’ll have the BLT.” “Do you want fries, too?” “I don’t have to have them, if it’s too much money.” “Benny, will you get off being worried about money?” “I’m sorry, I’m not used to being on a date when I didn’t have to pay.” “Have you ever been on a date?” “No, but there’s always a first time.” “Okay, it’s settled, you’ll have a BLT with fries. Now, what am I going to have? Do they have any omelets?” “Yes, quite a few.” “Read the list for me, okay?” “Cheese, Western, Florentine, Spinach, Onion, Lox and Onion …” “That’s it, I’ll have a Lox and Onion Omelet.” “What’s lox?” “Salmon.” “What’s salmon?” “A delicious fish that swims for the better part of its life in the ocean. It only comes ashore to breed.” “Why would it do that?” “Beats me; I suppose that’s how God planned it.” “Do you believe in God?” “Yes, I think I do, but maybe not like other people believe. Look at me, I’m blind and hormonally deficient. I can’t imagine a decent God doing that to a kid, but maybe he has some unknown purpose for me in the future.” “Yeah, I see what you mean. Sometimes I wonder why he fucked me over, too.” “Did you have it bad?” “It was okay until I went to visit my uncle and his son abused me. Then my mind went haywire and I went away for long periods of time. It was only after I had my stroke that things came back together.” “May I take your orders?” a waitress said after mysteriously appearing at the table. “I’ll have the lox and onion omelet,” Erik said. “And, you, sir?” “The BLT and fries,” Benny said. “Very good,” the waitress said. She left with the menus and Benny looked across the table at Erik. There was something about the blind boy he couldn’t quite understand. Erik seemed so sure of himself and, yet, he was so vulnerable to everyone in the sighted world. “Tonight, where am I going to sleep?” Benny asked. “Well, I don’t have a guestroom, so I suppose you can either sleep on the sofa in the living room or in my bed.” “With you?” “That’s generally where I sleep.” “But …” “Look, it’s a king-size bed. There’s plenty of room for both of us without either of us getting too close, if that’s how you want it.” “I generally sleep in pajamas.” “I don’t. Actually, I don’t wear anything when I sleep. The tactile experience is unbelievable. Personally, I recommend it.” “And, I don’t have to sleep next to you.” “No, and I won’t force myself upon your person.” “But, what about this afternoon in the shower?” “Benny, you know that sounds so immature. Do you mind if I call you Ben?” “No, I don’t. Ben does sound more mature, doesn’t it?” * * * That night as Ben sorted out his clothes in Erik’s bedroom he couldn’t help watching the other boy undress. In only a few minutes, Erik was nude and he sat on the left side of the bed. He said, “I sleep on this side because it’s closest to the bathroom. Will you have a problem with it?” “No,” Ben said as he undid his bowtie. While Erik sat on his side of the bed he began to idly stroke his cock. In only a few moments it was hard and he lay back on his pillow and brought his legs up onto the bed. “Are you okay with me doing this?” Erik asked. “Yeah, sort of,” Ben said. “Would you like to come over here and help?” “I’m not undressed, yet.” “Well, hurry, then.” Ben kicked off his shoes and tried to quickly remove his socks. He undid his belt, unzipped his slacks, unbuttoned them, and, finally, pushed them to the floor. He took off his jacket, cummerbund, shirt, and undershirt. He stood there across the room from the bed watching Erik stroke his hard-on. He exhaled deeply and pushed his tighty whities to the floor. He looked at his hard cock and slowly walked over to the bed. “What do you want me to do?” Ben asked. “What do you want to do?” Erik asked. “I don’t know what to do?” “Then I suggest you do what you want to do and then I’ll do what I want to do.” Ben climbed up on the bed and lay down close to Erik. He placed his hand on Erik’s abdomen and asked, “Should we kiss?” “If you want,” Erik said. Ben leaned over and placed his lips on Erik’s lips. He felt Erik’s tongue brush along the length of his lips. He sighed deeply and opened his mouth to Erik’s need.
  14. Chapter 6 - Trouble on the Horizon

    As a rule, I try to avoid innards of any animal. My only exception in my life was chicken hearts because my mother would separate them out from the other chicken by-products and fry them up to a crispy brown along with the gizzards. She tossed the livers because of their strong taste. I've had to eat liver two times in my life and hated eating it each time. The organ's primary purpose in an animal is to filter out all the things that shouldn't be ingested by that animal. I look at livers in the same way I look at oil filters. There can't be anything desirable in that organ. Oh, yes, thank you for the nice comment on the chapter.
  15. Chapter 6 - Trouble on the Horizon

    Although she was raised in rural Arkansas, my wife said she would never eat chitlins though they often appeared on the dinner table. As a fan of Mexican food, I often run into people of Mexican descent who often offer me menudo, which is the same thing as chitlins. My primary dietary rule: I do not eat guts, except, maybe, on occasion, fried chicken hearts.

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