Hadrian's Lover (12 page)

Dean smiled. “I’d like that.”

Jeremy turned to his right where his guitar case leaned against one of the vacant stump seats. After opening it and retrieving the instrument, he took a moment to tune the strings. “Let’s see now,” he said while retuning the G string; his ear was close to the string as he listened intently until he was sure the sound was just right. “How about a little more Tim Hus?”

“Who’s he?” Dean was clearly intrigued.

“Tim Hus, he was from Alberta country back when Alberta was still a part of old Canada. I sung y’all one a his songs yesternight, the one ‘bout a bull rider.”

“A bull rider?” Dean was intrigued, his eyes widening at the wonder. He remembered the song he just hadn’t put the picture together in his mind. Blushing Dean adds, “I, ah, thought a brauma bull was a wild horse.

Jeremy laughs. “You remembered that line, did ya?” Then shaking his head between chuckles, he adds, “No. It’s the bull they say no one can
ride.” Unable to let a good joke pass he adds, “It also means the man with the big penis.” Dean joins in on the jocularity. Then nodding his head thoughtfully, Jeremy adds, “Anyway, cowboys—note girls ain’t added here—don’t think there were any women folk done this—men would saddle up the biggest, most ornery bulls they could get a hold of an’ try an’ ride ’em. Compete to see who could stay on its back the longest. Well, them bulls would buck mighty hard. I guess it was considered a real act of manhood to be able to ride on the back of one of them like that.”

“Were any of them ever killed?” The idea of risking his life to prove his strength above others was intoxicating to Dean.

“Oh, yeah. I reckon lots were. It would be mighty dangerous. Our old bull is one mean bastard. I sure wouldn’t want to git on the back of him—but these good ol’ boys did and made good money doing it, too. Anyhoo, this here song I’m gonna sing ya’s called ‘Silver in the Buckle’ and its ’bout a broncin’ horse rider.” Jeremy chose this song specifically for the one verse in which the Montana man meets a girl “across the line that stole his heart away.” Under normal circumstances, Jeremy would adjust the verse, even though most folk, he knows, don’t really listen to the lyrics. But not tonight—tonight Jeremy sings the song exactly the way Tim Hus wrote it. If he had judged the lad correctly, Dean would make out the intent of the lyrics. And when he was singing that verse, he would watch the youth closely to see whether or not he was game. Sissy was mighty lonely and Jeremy knew she needed a man in her life. He couldn’t keep up this charade; Jake was far too suspicious, and as much as he loved Sissy, his true love was Jake. The fear of losing him had been building up lately.

Jeremy was correct. Dean picked up on the lines, gasping as soon as he heard them—taking off his hat, Dean used it to cover his lap. Without even finishing the song, Jeremy chimed out, “Sissy? Sissy, little girl, is that you?”

Jeremy had turned the voc mic off so Dean couldn’t hear the woman’s response. “Jeremy? For Hadrian’s sake, don’t you know what time it is?”

“It’s late, sweetie pie. What you callin’ fer?”

“ME? Why you dirty ol’ swamp rat—” Jeremy blinked, turning on his eye cam to show her Dean. “Ohhh.” Intelligence dawned. Although he was obviously much younger than Sissy, she couldn’t help but find herself drawn to his masculine beauty. “Can he—hear me? Can he—see me?”

“Naw, little girl,” Jeremy teased. “You know I don’t got time to come running up there to help you herd in a bunch of sheep. Why didn’t you
fence up them pastures like I told you to?” He then confused the young man by giving Dean a wink. “Why didn’t you jes’ call me in the morning?” Feigning chagrin, he added, “Now, little sis, you know I’m too busy. We got guests to entertain this week.” Having trouble containing himself, Jeremy laughed outright.

“So, what’s your game, Jeremy? Is he for me?”

“Maybe.” Grunting as if punched lightly, he added, “It might be possible.” His smile spread wide. “Of course you can meet them—well, one of them, one guest went to bed early. Here—” When Jeremy blinked on the holocam, the grainy image of a blonde, curly haired young woman in her mid-twenties appeared. She was sitting up in bed with the covers dropped down to her waist.

“Hello.” She spoke shyly, having never met a man other than her brother with straight tendencies. And since Jeremy is bi-sexual, she has to share him with Jake, who, she reasons, would likely kill her if he knew. The very idea of a fully straight man only interested in women excited her. Jeremy moved his head, bringing Sissy’s image closer to Dean. “I’m Sissy. I herd sheep for my brother up north.”

Dean looked up, smiling clumsily. “My name’s Dean Stu—Hunter.” Blushing crimson, Dean squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his head.

Sissy giggled awkwardly, “Stuhunter. That sure is an odd name. What’s your cultural heritage?”

“No, uh…” Dean stuttered. “I…it’s just Hunter.”

“Okay, just Hunter.” Dean was so embarrassed by her teasing that he could not bring himself to look up. Beginning to feel sorry for him, Sissy added, “It’s nice to meet you, Dean.” Since Jeremy had placed her holo image close enough, Sissy reached up with her hand to touch Dean’s cheek. The cool thing about holo imaging through the contact voc is that the salt-based electric current charging it can be felt as a slight shock, which had given a whole new meaning to the concept of phone sex! Unfortunately, when Sissy’s holo fingers lightly feathered Dean’s face, he was stunned. His mind reeled back to reeducation and a bolt of lightning crackled in his brain, searing all of its energy out of his extremities. The suddenness of this impact caused the young man to have a seizure. Sissy quickly pulled her hand back, watching on in horror. When the attack finally abated, nausea set in. Turning his back on Jeremy, Dean vomited into the bushes behind his seat. When he finished, Dean got up, and without looking back, stumbled
toward his and Geoffrey’s cabin, pausing briefly at the water trough just outside their door to wash his face and rinse out his mouth. Turning to look at her brother, Sissy inquired, “Jeremy, what just happened?”

“He’s a re-ed…” Then shaking his head, he suggested, “They must’ve done something.”

“For the love of Hadrian,” she gasped. “What?”

“I don’t know, Sissy.”

“Poor boy,” Sissy lamented.

Jeremy sighed. “I only hope he can adapt.” His eyes had followed Dean walking in the direction of his and Geoffrey’s cabin.

Sissy was miffed, “Like m—”

Jeremy never let her finish. His eyes had hardened, “
Likely
, yes, likely, I agree. It’s very
likely
.” After a pause and having softened some toward his sister, he said, “But what might have happened to him—it frightens me more than you can possibly know.”

Trembling at the implication, she inquired, “How so?”

“He could be—” Jeremy stopped himself in time. He knew he must avoid saying anything that might implicate Sissy. He had taken a foolish risk doing introductions over the voc—anyone on the government wave could have overheard.

For a brief moment, brother and sister stared into one another’s eyes. Sissy was the first to break the silence. “I really do need help—with—the sheep, Jeremy.”

“I sent you three women,” he replied dryly.

Closing her eyes, Sissy tried desperately to squeeze back the tears. “Please come,” she begged. “I really need you—your help.”

“All right, baby girl,” he answered soothingly. “I’ll saddle up first thing and get there by nightfall.” Although Jeremy and Sissy are brother and sister through their fathers’ marriage they are not genetically related. Even so, if anyone ever learned of their affair most people would find it disturbing.

Suddenly, Sissy blurted out, “I love you!”

Jeremy’s eyes grew stern again, and he responded quickly with, “I love you too,
little sis.
”

Too many of today’s teenagers are sexually active. This is a concern for numerous of Hadrian’s parents. Many are seeking professional advice for ways to discourage our youth from beginning early experimentation. The fact is, early sexual experimentation has been a problem for parents of teenagers since the beginning of time. The accusation of outsiders that our teenagers are promiscuous due to our sexual orientation is balderdash. The teenage years are ones of sexual awakening. Teenagers’ hormones begin to pop and dash around like the ball from the old pinball machines in the arcade museum. That is not to say I condone early sexual behavior in our youth. I only say this to let parents know they haven’t done anything wrong if they suddenly discover their young adult is no longer a virgin.

Many young people find themselves hurt and confused by their first sexual experiences. What our children need to learn, through open and honest communication with their parents, is that touching, allowing another to touch you, is a very intimate experience. One becomes quickly attached to the person to whom she or he makes love. The greatest danger our youth face is the wretched psychological hurt that comes with a break-up. The pain of breaking up is compounded deeply if one has been intimate with another. Encouraging our youth to restrain from acting upon their sexual impulses at an early age is crucial. Early experimentation may shatter a child’s self-esteem, creating an emotional turbulence that can deter an individual from creating a stable emotional bond with a future partner.

No doubt, parents, you are wondering what it is you can do to help stave off your child’s sexual yearnings for a year or two. To begin, you need to be open and forthright with your sons and daughters. Be prepared to answer any questions they might ask regardless of how uncomfortable it may make you feel. And, yes, it is essential that you consider their questions
about heterosexual behaviors. Remember, many of our citizens know what it feels like to be attracted to the opposite sex. Even though our geneticists have done a wonderful job isolating the gene for homosexuality, the fact still remains that some of our children are born with heterosexual tendencies. Let’s remember the Kinsey scale: anyone between a three and five is easily swayed to accepting homosexuality as the sexual norm. Youth who are a two, on the other hand, feel the heterosexual drive a lot more strongly than their latent homosexual tendencies. If you suspect your child might be a two on the Kinsey scale, you can help him or her release the inner homosexual. Encourage your children to reach deep inside and discover what they like most about their own sex. Nurture these inclinations and help your child turn them into honest desires. For a child who is a two, it really is just a matter of finding the right man or right woman.

Now, for parents whose children are easily attracted to the same sex, you need to talk to your children about how to move slowly, as they may not take the time necessary to formulate solid relationships. Many of our youth find they get involved too quickly in a sexual relationship and are ultimately hurt. Parents, speak candidly with your child. Let him or her know what it was like for you as a young adult. Discuss how you controlled your sexual urges; or be honest, let him or her know about the hurt you felt when you gave of yourself too soon. It never serves a parent to mimic a virgin countenance. A false face forces even the finest into floundering. We are not saints; we are human beings, and we are all prone to flaws. Let us leave that “holier than thou” nonsense to the religious fanatics outside our walls, shall we? Rather, Hadrian’s parents need to help their children understand how emotional the sharing of one’s body is and encourage their children to restrain from entering into such a commitment at too young an age, and the best way to accomplish this is by sharing our own experiences openly. But perhaps the two most important pieces of advice I can offer you are these: be honest and never judge your child.

Vale!

Frank’s room is huge. Todd laughed the first time he saw the bathroom attached. “By all that’s gay and glorious, man, your bathroom is four times the size of my bedroom!” Frank’s bed is a four-poster queen-size; Todd’s is a single. As soon as he enters Frank’s room, Todd always rips open the poster’s curtains and tosses himself onto Frank’s bed. “Man, I wish I could have a bed this size. And the mattress.” He always says this as he luxuriates in the feel of a mattress that actually bends and forms to his body, immediately placing him in the perfect rest position and realigning his spine at the same time. “Hadrian’s lover,” Todd groans in delight, “it just cracked my back for me.”

Frank laughs heartily. He enjoys watching Todd squirm in delight on his bed. “You can sleep over any time,” is Frank’s chirp reply, always knowing, but never fully prepared, for Todd’s inevitable response.

“Forget it, Frank. I’m not one of your tinsel tarts.”

“I think you’d look cute in makeup.” Frank never quits.

“You’re not slathering that shit on my face ever again.” Todd sits up and studies his image in Frank’s mirror. The silver center is a beautiful oval surrounded by a highly decorative cherry oak frame. “It made me look stupid; the stuff smells. And, worst of all,” he adds emphatically. “It gave me acne.” Now looking at his friend, he exclaims, “I hate acne!” Frank sits next to Todd, placing his hand on his knee. Todd swats it away. “Hands off, buddy!”

Frank shrugs off the rejection. Todd may play hard to get, but they are still best friends, and that relationship always gives him hope. “And how old were we then? Ten? Twelve?”

“Thirteen,” Todd replies crisply. Todd has grim memories of that day. Frank and he got carried away dressing themselves in as festive a manner
as possible. After painting each other’s faces, Frank exclaimed how beautiful Todd was, and suddenly, they were kissing, making out quite heavily. The experience became awkward for Todd when Frank began dry humping against him. Todd didn’t know what to do, and the incident hadn’t stopped until Frank had groaned during ejaculation. Todd had leapt up from the floor at that point, crying, “I’m not ready, Frank! I’m not ready. This is too soon.”

As Todd ran out of the room, Frank had chased him. “Todd, come back! I’m sorry.”

Todd wouldn’t listen. He had just hopped on his bike and raced home. He never even bothered to change. When he ran inside, he saw Papa Mike sitting on the couch with a new “friend.” “Well, well,” the man said smiling, “look at your little fella.” Todd stood rooted to the floor, unable to move. He was so stunned that when the man stood up and walked toward him, Todd stumbled back against the wall. The older man, trapping him there, leaned in so close Todd could smell the whiskey on his breath. It wasn’t until the man hooked his finger through the silver loop of Teika’s dog collar and gave it a slight tug that Todd remembered Frank had put it on him. All the clothes Todd had chosen to wear were pinks and purples, and Teika’s dog collar, being dark purple, matched perfectly. Frank had taken it off the old German Shepherd and strapped it on Todd. They had both laughed hilariously when Todd had pretended to be Teika. Frank started petting him, saying things like “Good girl!” Todd had pretended to wag his tail and leap up to lick Frank’s face the way he had seen Teika do. That was when things between Frank and him got crazy.

“I like the dog collar.” The older man’s seductive whisper ripped Todd out of his memory. “Do you want to do it doggy style? Is that what you’re wanting to do?” Todd winced. That was how Frank had dry humped him. The man continued his seductions. “You are one beautiful little boy. Do you know that?” he asked Todd in an enticing manner. Todd just stood there, glued to the wall, and quaking. “You are going to have all the men chasing after you when you get older.”

Timid and terrified, Todd called out, “Please make him stop, Papa Mike. Please.”

“Leroy, leave the kid alone.” Papa Mike didn’t even sound annoyed. But Leroy listened. He blew Todd a little kiss first, then returned to the couch to sit beside his lover. “But, Todd,” Papa Mike began to chastise, “go to 
the mirror and look at the way you are dressed.” Todd did as instructed. “With those clothes,” he said, shaking his head, “that dog collar and all that makeup—well, face facts, son; you are just asking for sex.”

“Your Papa’s right, little man,” Leroy concurs. “Makeup was designed to help make a person more attractive. It’s a tool. You wear it because you want to enhance your appearance. And if you want to enhance your exterior form, it’s because you want somebody to take notice of you. Just like I did.” He topped off his lecture with a wink.

Todd shivered. He didn’t mean to. He thought Frank and he were just fooling around, but then it got crazy and they had done stuff, stuff Todd felt was wrong—
No
, he thought,
not wrong, just not right
. He looked at himself questioningly in the mirror.
Why
, he wondered,
if it’s not wrong, didn’t it feel right?

“So, Todd,” Papa Mike asked, “are you ready for sex?”

“No, Papa.” Todd knew he wasn’t ready; he wondered whether he’d ever be ready after what he and Frank had done. “No, Papa, I’m not.”

“Then go wash your face, change your clothes, and for Hadrian’s sake, take off that damn dog collar!”

“Well,” Todd recalls the other man laughing and saying, “at least you know the boy is gay.”

“Shut up, Leroy.” After sighing, Mike had added, “You can dress for attraction when you are ready to attract.”

Still staring at himself in the mirror, Todd mouths the words, “Yes, Papa,” both in the past and in the present.

Frank looks at Todd oddly, wondering what is going on inside his friend’s mind. “Thirteen,” Frank waves the age off dismissively. “We didn’t know what we were doing.” Walking over to his dressing table, he opens up a cosmetic case. “I’ve been learning all kinds of ways to use makeup creatively in Cos class. Makeup doesn’t have to make anyone look tawdry. You don’t have to slather it on, wear blush, or anything. Just use a little base to keep from looking too pale.” As if to further his case, Frank adds, “No tinsel, no trash.”

“Yet,” Todd reminds him, “all the boys you date wear it to look kitschy.”

“Kitschy,” Frank laughs. “Good word! That’s going to be my nickname for you.”

“Don’t you dare—” Todd begins to protest.

“Okay, Kitschy,” Franks says, winking Todd’s way. Frank is constantly threatening to give Todd a pet name.

Todd’s face reddens. “I swear by Hadrian’s lover, Frank. I’ll kick the shit out of you if you ever call me that again.”

“All right, gee whiz, learn to take a joke.” Frank shrugs off his annoyance by turning to the mirror and begins to brush the light beige powder over his face. Taking his time, sensing the mood of the room, Frank decides to chat lightly until Todd calms down. Unfortunately, he does not choose a very good topic. “Really, Todd, it’s like you’re living back in the Dark Ages, embracing old world concepts where men weren’t allowed to dress freely. No makeup, no skirts, no flashy clothes.”

“You don’t wear skirts,” Todd interjects.

“The point, Todd, is I could if I wanted to.” He turns to face Todd, brush in one hand, powder case in the other. “And nobody would abuse me for it!” Frank insists, “So could you!” Before Todd can object, Frank barges on, lecturing, “There was a time, before Hadrian, when men’s fashion was limited. We weren’t allowed to choose the way we dressed.” Looking with emphasis toward his cosmetics, he adds, “Or the way we looked.” Turning back to face the mirror, Frank finishes his touch up. When done, he swivels to face Todd, presenting his newly formed image: “See,” he smiles proudly. “You can’t even tell I’m wearing any. It just covers up the blemishes.”

“You don’t have any blemishes,” Todd interjects.

“That’s because I cover them up.” Adding more powder to his brush, Frank moves in closer to Todd. “Here, let me put some on you.”

Annoyed, Todd pushes Frank’s hand away. “I said no.”

“Oh, come on, Todd. Everyone wears makeup!”

“That doesn’t mean I have to.”

Spinning on his heels, returning the cosmetics case to his dressing table, Frank exclaims, “You are so stubborn!”

“You said men have a choice in Hadrian. So, why can’t I choose the way
I
look?”

“Of course you can,” Frank says a little too harshly. “Did you know,” he adds in his own defense, “that when makeup was first used by the Egyptians, it was worn by men as well as women!” Todd shakes his head. “I learned that in Cos, too!” Huffing a little to release his anger, he states, “Well, here in Hadrian, like in ancient Egypt, men are free to wear makeup if they want to!”

“It’s just,” Todd counters, “some guys use way too much goop and it looks awful.”

Frank takes this comment to mean his personal use of makeup is vulgar. “Just because a guy wears a little base doesn’t make him cheap or gaudy.”

“I didn’t mean you…” Todd stumbles, trying to avoid hurting his friend’s feelings. “It’s just that’s the way the boys you date look—garish, flashy, showy. I mean—you never date anyone who just looks normal.”
And they all wear that stupid fucking collar!
“It’s like you want every guy you’re with to look like a tart or something.” His frustration growing, Todd expresses his real fear, “And I know if you’re trying to put that crap on me, it’s because you want me to look that way, too!” To avoid further discussion, Todd stands and crosses over to the bedroom door. “What’s taking Crystal so long?” Todd reaches into his jean pocket to retrieve his cell phone and begins to text.

“What are you doing?” Frank is clearly annoyed. Todd hit home when he suggested Frank wanted him to look pert and cute like his “boys.” It’s almost as if Frank is trying to relive their time together when they were thirteen. Todd seemed so anxious to kiss him, so anxious to pet and play then, but he suddenly changed. Frank still doesn’t know what he did wrong, and they can never talk about that day. It has become taboo—almost as if it never happened. Sighing, Frank realizes a truth about himself; everyone he dates has that same boyish look; they all remind Frank of Todd on that day, and they all end up wearing Teika’s dog collar.

Todd has his back to Frank so he doesn’t see his friend’s facial expression. He simply answers Frank’s question. “Texting Crystal to see what’s taking her so long.”

“Put that away,” Frank growls. Todd obeys his friend, hearing something dark and ominous in Frank’s voice. “She’ll get here when she gets here!” Allowing all of his annoyance to spill out, he adds, “Crystal, our little chaperone.”

Todd turns around. “That’s not fair, Frank! She’s smart. Besides, we both need to pass this test.” He adds as a reminder, “Everyone needs Hadrian history to graduate.”

“I know.” Frank lets go of his aggravation. “I just would have preferred you and me alone.”

“You’re the one who got the three of us together to form a study group last year!”

“I know.” Somewhat frustrated, Frank replies, “I had no idea you two would hit it off.”

“We’re just friends, Frank,” Todd insists. “Like you and me.”

“No,” Frank reminds him, “not like you and me.”

It is Todd’s turn to get irritated. “I am not a tinsel tart! I am not trash! And I will not join your little harem of boys!”

Frank is offended. “I never said you were any of those things.” Frank sits on the bed and pats the spot next to him. Todd refuses to take the bait. “You would be the only one!” As if to defend his behavior, he adds, “I only date all those guys because I’m waiting for you!”

Slightly mollified, Todd sits back on the bed, searching for a way to word this delicately. “Frank, I don’t want a boyfriend.” Seeing the look of shock in Frank’s eyes, Todd begins to backtrack. “I mean, not so soon after—it just hurts too much.” Sighing, hoping this will placate Frank, he says, “I’m just happy being able to hang out with you again.”

“And what’s wrong with dating?” Frank sees hope in everything Todd says.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Todd replies, “Nobody just dates.” Then complaining, he says, “A date means getting laid and…” Feeling foolish, blushing a little, Todd stares at his feet as they shuffle uncomfortably. “I’m not ready for sex.” He harrumphs, “That’s why Devon dumped me.”

Frank laughs gaily as he wraps his arms around Todd’s shoulder. He and Devon didn’t do it! He can still be the one Todd falls in love with! The first and only one Todd shares himself with!
Just like Dad and Papa Dean,
he tells himself. Todd wants to shove Frank off, but he knows that will hurt his friend too much so he lets Frank hug him instead. “I respect you, Todd. I wouldn’t make you do anything until I knew you were ready.”

“That’s what Devon said,” Todd mutters gloomily.

“I’m not Devon.” Then whispering in Todd’s ear, he adds, “Dating would be no different than the way things are now, except for kissing and,” a little naughtily, “maybe a little petting.” Frank leans in for a kiss.

Todd quickly turns away. “Kissing leads to petting and petting always leads to sex!” Glaring back at Frank, he concludes, “And if it doesn’t, he dumps you!”

Frank gently brushes away one of the tears Todd is desperately trying to hold back. Frank reaches out to Todd and holds his friend tight in his arms. “He really hurt you, didn’t he?”
Hadrian exile you, Devon,
Frank curses.

Although he would like to struggle against Frank’s hug, Todd merely closes his eyes and tries to explain. “Frank, I—” Unable to finish, he tenses into Frank’s embrace.

Encouraging him, Frank says, “You can tell me anything, Todd.”

No, I can’t!
Todd starts to cry.
Why can’t I feel anything if I’m at least a two? Isn’t it just a matter of finding the right man? Isn’t Frank the right man? I love him. I don’t love anyone better! Why don’t I feel anything then?
Summoning up the courage, he asks, “Everybody’s at least a two, right, Frank?”

Frank smiles reassuringly at his friend, “That’s right, babe. Everybody in Hadrian is at least a two.” To prove his point, he asks Todd, “You look in the mirror, right?”

“Of course I do. Everybody does.”