Chapter 15

There are two ways to be fooled.  One is to believe what isn't true; the other is to refuse to believe what is true.  Søren Kierkegaard
There are two ways to be fooled. One is to believe what isn’t true; the other is to refuse to believe what is true. Søren Kierkegaard

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Homo!: Chapter 15

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SUMMARY: What if you were homosexual but refused to admit it to anyone, especially yourself? The year is 1971 and fourteen year old Jimmy Barnes has discovered growing up in a small town can be boring in a way not even the solitary masturbation sessions he enjoys so much can relieve. When his best friend takes a job at the local newspaper, Jimmy finds himself on his own for the summer. What follows is a decade long saga with numerous twists and turns, a tale that’ll reveal the best and the worst of the nineteen-seventies and beyond.

WARNING: This story is a work of adult fiction and intended for mature audiences only. Unless otherwise noted, all of the characters in the story are fictional; any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. While some of the places described or mentioned in the story are fictional as well, others may be real. However, some liberties may have been taken with the truth to enhance the story. Please note that the story may describe, depict or otherwise include graphic portrayals of relationships between men and/or adolescent boys that are homosexual in nature. If you do not like For approve of such discussions or it is illegal for you to read such material, consider yourself warned. If you continue to read this story, you are asserting you are fully capable of understanding and legally consenting to reading a work of adult fiction.

NOTICE: This story is my property and protected by the copyright laws of the United States and other countries. It may not be reproduced in any form without my written permission. You may download a single copy to read offline and to share with others as long as you credit me as the author. However, you may not use this work for commercial purposes or to profit from it in any way. You may not use any of the characters or fictional places in the story in your own work without my explicit permission. Nor may you use, alter, transform, or build upon the story in any way. If you share this story with others, you must make clear the terms under which it is licensed to them. The best way to do that is by linking to this web page.

NOTES: Please check these notes every week. If there’s something I want to alert you to as I post each chapter, this is where I will I do so.


Part III – March 1975

Chapter 15

I spent much of Wednesday trying to figure out what had happened the previous day, but never could. As best I could tell, the lunch at Mr. Henry’s had gone well. All of the boys were friendly, especially Ryan. He seemed to like me a lot.

After that we had gone back to Randy’s house. The regular members had played their Triple C game and seemed satisfied with the outcome. Then there had been that special drawing between Del and me and I had come up with the short straw.

And yet even before I could begin to worry about what Del might ask me to do, Bobbie had stepped in and seemingly rescued me. Given a choice, Del had decided to pick Bobbie to be friends with for the coming week. I couldn’t blame him for that.

Bobbie was cuter and sexier than any of us, that was for sure. If I had been Del, I would have done the same thing. But everyone seemed surprised by the outcome for reasons I couldn’t fathom.

Eventually, I gave up trying to figure out what had happened. Eric had promised we would talk about it again on Thursday. He had been kind of cryptic about the whole thing, which made me curious. But until we talked there was nothing more to be done about it.

As best I could tell, nothing had turned any of the boys against me.

I spent much of the rest of Wednesday trying to decide what to wear to Bobbie’s place the following day.

You’re beginning to act just like a girl, Jimmy, I recall thinking. Why the sudden interest in clothes?

But the answer to that was obvious. I was going to Bobbie’s place and wanted to look good for him.

Instead of briefs, I decided to wear the g-string he had given me. Not that he would know I was wearing it, but it was Bobbie’s g-string and wearing it made me feel special.

I debated whether I should wear the same shirt and pants I had worn on Monday. Both Eric and Bobbie liked them, but I didn’t want them to think that was the only stuff I had. Looking through the rest of the clothes I had brought to Washington, I finally settled on jeans and a colorful flannel shirt.

They weren’t as sexy or nice as the outfit Jeff had bought me, but they gave me a more rugged, masculine, look; at least that’s what Jeff used to say when he saw me in them. That always made me feel good.

Wednesday night I didn’t sleep very well even though Jeff and I had sex. Usually I was able to fall asleep pretty quickly once we were finished, but for some reason I found myself tossing and turning that evening.

Why so nervous, Jimmy? It’s just some club meeting; nothing important.

Easy for you to say, I responded. I’ll be spending more time with the boys. I hope I don’t make any mistakes or do something that’ll turn them against me. I want them to like me. It’s important to have friends you can count on.

And then there was Bobbie, of course. I would be seeing him again. That was the main reason I was nervous. Of all the boys I had met, I wanted to make a good impression on him. Ryan had said Bobbie was God and I could understand why. Like the rest of the boys, I was in awe of him.

He seemed perfect: good-looking, hot body, perfectly dressed, and a lot more self-confident than any of the rest of us. More than just being perfect, however, he seemed to have the perfect life, at least from what Eric had told me.

Charles doted on him; gave him everything he needed or wanted. He got to travel around the country and all over the world to places I could only dream about. It was easy to see why someone might be jealous of him, but somehow Bobbie had a way of making you feel special whenever he talked to you.

I wanted to be friends with him and he seemed friendly enough, but I didn’t understand why and that made me nervous.

Eventually morning arrived. I waited until Jeff left for work, then got up. As much as I tried to keep myself busy, the morning passed slowly. But finally it was time to leave for the Hawk and Dove where Eric and I had agreed to meet.

Checking myself in the mirror one last time, I wondered whether I was dressed too casually. For a moment I panicked and thought about changing into the clothes I had worn Monday.

Bobbie liked them. He said you looked good, Jimmy. You should have worn them, not the stuff you’re wearing.

But by then it was too late to do anything about it. Grabbing Jeff’s leather jacket, I pulled it on and took another look.

Bobbie liked this jacket as well, I reminded myself. It’s a good fit and a lot better than mine.

Locking the house up, I quickly made my way to the Hawk and Dove. Eric was already waiting for me when I arrived.

“I love that jacket,” he commented. “You look totally butch in it.”

“Butch?” I asked, confused. “Remind me again.”

“It’s slang for masculine,” Eric said.

“Thanks,” I replied. “The next time we have lunch you’re going to have to go over all these new words you’ve taught me again. Half the time I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about; and you haven’t even explained some of the words to me yet.”

“No problem; there isn’t that much to learn,” Eric responded.

After that the two of us chatted about nothing much for a couple of minutes.

“There it is,” Eric finally said, pointing up Pennsylvania Avenue.

Turning around, I saw the biggest car I had ever seen in my life approaching. Even though it was still winter and the car was white, the outside of the thing was totally immaculate. There wasn’t a speck of dirt on that car as far as I could see.

Pulling up next to us, I started to reach for the nearest door.

“Wait,” Eric said, pulling my arm away.

Within moments the driver of the car stepped out. He was wearing some kind of strange uniform and quickly opened the door for Eric and me.

“After you,” Eric said.

As I stepped in, he goosed my butt, which made me giggle. Seeing what happened, the other boys in the car giggled as well.

Eric and I seated ourselves next to two boys, Across the way four other boys were facing us. As Eric started making the introductions again, the heads of the final two boys popped up over the back of still another row of seats.

I could see it was Del and Ryan. They were sitting in a rear compartment. Having said their hellos, they promptly slipped back out of site.

“I guess membership has its privileges, Del,” Eric said. “I have a pretty good idea what the two of you are doing back there.”

“You’re just jealous I’m the one sucking on Del’s lollipop,” Ryan responded in mock indignation.

“Don’t choke to death,” Eric replied, causing the other boys to laugh.

By now the car had maneuvered itself onto a highway I was only vaguely familiar with.

“So where’s this place we’re going to?” I asked, turning to Eric.

“Great Falls, Virginia,” he said. “It’ll take us about thirty minutes to get there, but you’ll like the place once we do.”

As the limo picked up speed, all of the boys seemed excited to be on the way. They were jabbering at one another, laughing at each other’s jokes, and having a good time.

“Who farted?” one of the boys suddenly asked. “I smell something unpleasant.”

“That’s what happens when you fart, Shane,” one of the other boys responded. “Like they say, he who smelt it dealt it.”

I couldn’t smell anything, but that’s how the conversation mostly went. One boy would accuse another of some high crime; the accused would do his best to parry the charge and make his accuser regret having done so.

It was fun to watch because the boys obviously liked one another and that made me all the more anxious to become part of their group.

Even though I wanted to ask Eric about what had happened on Tuesday, I didn’t want to do that in front of the other boys in case I had made some kind of embarrassing mistake. About fifteen minutes into the drive one of the boys turned to me.

“So what’s your daddy like, Jimmy?” he asked. “Eric told me he’s young; at least younger than mine.”

“He’s 24, soon to be 25,” I said, “but he’s not really my daddy. He’s just a friend.”

“You’re living with him, aren’t you?” the boy asked, scoffing.

“I am.”

“Are you paying rent?”

“No,” I conceded.

“Do you have a real job or is your only job making him happy?” he asked.

“I’m looking for a job,” I responded defensively, a little annoyed at being cross-examined like that. “Until I find one, I’m helping out at his place.”

“I bet you are,” the boy replied, smirking. “I bet you’re helping your friend out a lot!”

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I rest my case,” he continued. “How do you find?”

“Guilty,” one of the other boys quickly responded.

“Guilty,” the others chimed in.

“There you go,” the first boy declared; “no more of this he isn’t my daddy, he’s my friend, bullshit, at least if you expect to be part of this club. This club is only for boys with daddies; daddies who love boy pussy. Does your daddy love your pussy, Jimmy?”

“Give it a rest, Dale,” Eric said, interjecting. “Just because your daddy loves pounding that fat ass of yours doesn’t give you the right to pry into everyone else’s sex life.”

“My ass isn’t fat,” the boy responded, indignantly.

“That’s not what I hear,” Eric replied. “Most of the guys I know say fucking your ass is like exploring the Grand Canyon. You can get lost pretty easily in there.”

“At least I’m getting some, Eric,” the boy replied, sticking his tongue out. “From what I hear, Bob can’t even get it up anymore.”

Whatever else it accomplished, Eric had shifted the focus of attention away from me and I was glad about that. And yet it made me wonder again whether Jeff really was my daddy. It wasn’t the way I had ever thought about our relationship up until now, but suddenly I found myself wondering just how different I was from the rest of these boys.

Like them, I was dependent on Jeff for just about everything; food, clothing, and shelter. Like them, I wasn’t working.

What’s really different? I asked myself.

You’re not getting your ass fucked like them, Jimmy, a voice responded, coming to my defense.

They don’t seem to mind getting fucked, I replied. If anything, they seem proud of it.

Then why don’t you let Jeff fuck you and find out what they’re so happy about?

He doesn’t want to fuck me, I responded. Besides, he’s the homo, not me.

Yeah, right, Jimmy. All the rest of the boys in this car are homos. You’re the only one who isn’t?

Shut the fuck up, I said. I’m bisexual. It’s not the same thing.

By now we had exited on to some back road surrounded by trees. Soon enough we turned on to a still smaller road that penetrated even deeper into the woods. Eventually an opening appeared and a house loomed into sight about a half mile away.

Unbelievable, I thought, as we approached it.

To call the thing a house was like calling the lake back home in North Adams the Atlantic Ocean. The place was massive; larger than any house I had ever seen in my life. Eric was right; it was a mansion.

As we approached, a massive gate opened and allowed us into the inner grounds. We turned right and proceeded around a circular drive, finally coming to a stop in front of the place.

The driver quickly exited the vehicle and opened the doors. Boys tumbled out of the car, pushing and shoving one another in a playful way. Eric headed up the stairs that led to the front door. As he did, the door opened and another strangely attired man ushered us into the house.

“To your left, gentlemen,” he said, formally. “Master Robert has arranged for a light luncheon to be served before the show.”

“Who the heck is that guy?” I whispered to Eric.

“That’s the butler, Marcel,” he replied.

Entering what turned out to be the dining room, a long table with a ton of food was waiting for us.

“This is a light lunch?” I asked Eric.

“They tend to understate things at this place,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders.

“Will Master Robert be joining us?” Eric asked the butler.

“No,” the guy responded. “He’s making final preparations for the show, but he does send his regrets and urges all of you to eat hearty.”

By now the other boys were already lining up. It was a luncheon buffet where you served yourself, then found a place to sit down. Picking up a plate with an intricate pattern, I turned it over and could see it was fine china. The silverware looked like the real deal as well.

“I’m almost afraid to eat off of this,” I whispered to Eric.

“You don’t have to worry,” he replied. “This is their casual dinnerware. It won’t matter if you break something. They reserve the good stuff for their hoity-toity friends.”

By now I was hungry so I filled my plate with a variety of things; turkey, roast beef and ham, different cheeses, some intricately carved breads that turned out to be surprisingly delicious, and fruits and vegetables that came in a colorful variety of sizes and shapes. There was enough on that table to feed an army, but our group barely made a dent in it.

Eric and I sat down with Del and Ryan. Ryan was bubbly; he was obviously quite happy to be here and seemed ravenous as well. He filled his plate a couple of times over the course of the next half hour.

Later Eric would tell me Ryan hardly ever ate back in D.C. because his daddy was always complaining about how fat he was getting. That was ridiculous. Ryan was smaller and thinner than any of the rest of us; if anything, he looked starved to me.

By contrast, Del was quieter and more reserved. He didn’t smile as much as the other boys, but eventually he seemed to relax and open up as Eric engaged him in conversation. The more we talked, the more I liked him. He just seemed kind of depressed for some reason.

Whatever that reason might be, he didn’t seem to hold any grudge against me for what had happened on Tuesday. I was grateful for that.


About thirty minutes later the butler returned to the room and took Eric aside. They spoke privately for a minute or two, after which they left the room together. A few minutes later the butler reappeared and made an announcement.

“Master Robert invites you to join him in the lavender room for his second annual fashion show, gentlemen.”

With that he ushered us to a room that appeared to have been set up specifically for whatever was about to take place. As we entered, two other servants showed us to the various chairs that had been set aside for each of us.

Mine was by itself near the end of a long platform that ran from one end of the room to its center. The platform itself was covered with a pink carpet and colorful flowers that had been strategically placed along the runway to cover what turned out to be spotlights.

Once we were seated, the butler and servants withdrew from the room leaving us alone. Standing off to one side with a microphone, Eric used some kind of device to dim the lights in the room and turn the spotlights on.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Eric said, reading from a piece of paper he was holding. “Oh shit, strike that reference to gentlemen. If there are any gentlemen present, please leave immediately. This show is for girls only.”

That caused the rest of the boys to laugh so I took it as a joke.

Surveying the audience, Eric continued.

“Welcome to Master Robert’s second annual fashion show for the starving masses of Capitol Hill. Please hold your applause until the end of the event, ladies.”

With that Eric used the device he was holding to start some music playing and douse the room lights completely. As the pace of the music quickened, a girl wearing a long dress appeared from behind a backdrop at the other end of the platform.

Great, Jimmy, a fashion show; just what you’ve been looking forward to. I wonder what this is about.

As the girl slowly moved down the platform the other boys started to hoot and holler at her. In addition to being rude, that seemed kind of strange. It wasn’t like the girl had done anything to deserve that kind of treatment.

She was just modeling some clothes after all. And she was pretty as well, very pretty. I found myself attracted to her.

You see, Jimmy. There you go. You’re still perfectly normal, still attracted to girls.

But none of that seemed to matter to the rest of the boys. They were all over her case for some reason I didn’t understand.

As she came closer to the end of the platform where I was sitting, something seemed vaguely familiar about her, but I couldn’t figure out what. Suddenly it dawned on me.

It wasn’t a girl I was staring at. It was Bobbie. He was the one wearing the dress and it fit him perfectly. If I hadn’t known he was a boy, I would never have guessed. He had fooled me completely.

It was shocking and took my breath away.

What shocked me the most was how attractive he was dressed up as a girl. I didn’t know how I should react to what I was seeing, but then realized there was a part of my body that had already reacted. That was embarrassing and caused me to blush.

As he passed by the other boys and reached the end of the platform, something changed. Up until that moment Bobbie had been staring off into the distance, oblivious or perhaps indifferent to the catcalls the other boys were directing at him. But when he reached the end where I was seated, he stopped, looked down and smiled at me.

He stood there staring at me for what seemed like forever. Frozen like a deer in a car’s headlights and embarrassed as well, I blushed and turned my eyes away from his gaze momentarily. He turned and began walking back toward the other end of the platform. As he retreated, I couldn’t take my eyes off his butt. It was mesmerizing.

I’m not sure how long the show went on that day. At the end of each walk down the platform and back, Bobbie disappeared behind the curtain and changed into some other female outfit. As the afternoon progressed the outfits became skimpier and more revealing, much to the delight of the other boys. Some of them were shouting at him to take everything off.

By the end I didn’t think I could be shocked anymore. But then Bobbie emerged from behind the curtain wearing a pair of meshed white panties that hugged and accented his hips and exposed the skin beneath. A solid diamond of white both covered and highlighted his crotch.

A pair of white sheer silk stockings with solid black stripes rose from his feet to mid-thigh and guided your eyes up his legs to the panties. He was also wearing something Eric later told me was an embroidered white bustier that exposed his midriff and again pointed your eyes toward the panties. The whole thing was unbelievable.

At the end of the platform Bobbie seemed to linger longer than usual. By now my eyes were totally locked onto the panties although I noticed a couple of the boys in the distance looking at me. They were giggling and talking to one another excitedly and I wondered what they were saying. Finally Bobbie walked slowly back to the other end and disappeared behind the curtain.

As he did, the spotlights that had been trained on the runway dimmed and then disappeared while the lights in the room came back on. By now I was hyperventilating and needed to escape. Standing up, I rushed out of the room into the hall. I didn’t notice, but Eric followed me out of the room.

“Where are you going?” he asked when he finally caught up to me.

“I don’t know,” I responded, panicked. “I just needed to get out of that room. I felt like I couldn’t breathe.”

“Didn’t you like the show?” Eric asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but I wasn’t expecting something like that. I don’t know what to think.”

“Why, Eric?” I suddenly asked, still agitated by what I had seen. “Why did he dress up like a girl? I don’t understand. Dresses, skirts and panties? Why would he wear stuff like that, especially that last outfit, the lingerie?”

“Did he look good?“ Eric asked. “Could he pass as a girl?”

“I don’t know,” I replied, flustered. “I guess so. At the beginning, I thought it was a girl. It took me a little while to figure out it was Bobbie. So, yeah, he looked like a girl, at least at first; and that lingerie he wore at the end? He looked better in that than my girlfriends ever did.”

“I just don’t understand why he did it though. Hell, I don’t even know whether he’s prettier as a boy or a girl, but he’s better looking than the rest of us either way. It’s unbelievable.”

“He wears those things because his daddy likes him to,” Eric replied, calmly. “His daddy likes his boys to dress all femmy for him in the bedroom. Not that he and Charles ever do anything in bed except sleep together. Charles is more into looking, not touching, which is actually good for Bobbie in some ways.”

“The point is, wearing stuff like that is part of his job; part of keeping Charles happy. Bobbie’s no different than any of the rest of us. Every one of these boys has to deal with a daddy that has different quirks.”

“Bobbie told me beforehand he thought you’d be upset,” Eric continued. “Me and the rest of the guys will be staying for a while, but he’s got a limousine standing by to take you back to Washington if that’s what you want to do. But he’d like to talk to you privately first.”

“Are you willing to do that, Jimmy; to talk to Bobbie?”

“I guess,” I said, confused. “I don’t know why he wants to talk to me, but I guess that’s okay, at least as long as I get back in time to make dinner for Jeff.”

“You will,” Eric said. “Just wait here.”


Standing alone in the hall, I thought Eric might have gone off to get Bobbie. But a minute or two later the butler appeared instead.

“Master Robert is taking a swim and requests your presence at the pool,” he said. “Please follow me.”

Soon enough we were down in some kind of basement, but it wasn’t like any basement I had ever seen before. A wall of glass revealed a swimming pool to our right. I had never been in a house with an inside swimming pool before, let alone one that large.

Entering the area, I could see a solitary figure swimming in the distance. Then, having reached one end of the pool, he turned and began swimming back toward me. As he approached, I could see he was skinny dipping.

When he finally reached the edge of the pool, Bobbie held on to the side and stared up at me. He looked perfectly normal again.

“Hi,” he said, smiling. “Would you like to join me?”

I looked down at him, trying to keep my eyes focused on his face and shoulders, nothing else.

“Uh, well, probably not,” I replied. “I don’t have a swimsuit.”

“Neither do I,” Bobbie replied grinning, “although I suspect you already know that. Neither Charles nor I use suits when we swim in this pool. But if you’re shy about that kind of thing, you could swim in your underwear if you want.”

Recalling that I was wearing the g-string Bobbie had given me, not my underwear, I tried to find some other excuse to avoid embarrassing myself.

“I’m not sure I want to go for a swim in March,” I said. “It’s still winter where I come from.”

“But this place is climate controlled,” Bobbie countered. “The temperature in here is exactly right for swimming; and if you don’t want to get your underwear wet, I could have Marcel fetch one of my swimming suits for you. We have to use them in Florida and California whenever we’re there and I have quite a few. Do you have a favorite color, Jimmy?”

He was doing his best to be helpful, but that still wouldn’t have solved the problem. Knowing how embarrassed I’d be, I didn’t want him to see me wearing his g-string.

“I just don’t feel like a swim right now,” I said, insisting.

“Fine,” Bobbie replied, although I could see he was disappointed.

Feeling bad about that, I tried to change the subject.

“By the way, what’s that thing over there,” I asked, pointing to a strange silver cylindrical device over in one corner.

“That’s called a tanning bed,” Bobbie replied. “The cylinder opens up and you climb inside; then someone closes the cylinder and turns it on. There are lights inside that tan you if you stay inside long enough.”

“That’s weird,” I responded. “I’ve never heard of something like that before.”

“As far as I know, they don’t make them yet in the United States,” Bobbie replied. “It’s kind of a funny story how we got the thing. Last month Charles and I were in California and he was admiring the tans all the boys at the beach were sporting; and then a couple of weeks later we were in Germany on a business trip and Charles spotted that thing at a store over there.”

“He insisted on buying it for me on the spot although I told him I didn’t really want it. It cost a ton of money. It probably cost even more to have the thing shipped back to Virginia.”

“Weird,” I said. “If I wanted a tan, I guess I’d get it the old-fashioned way; under the sun.”

“I agree,” Bobbie said. “I’ve used that thing a couple of times, but I don’t like it that much. I don’t think it’s healthy to use something like that. It dries out my skin too much.”

“Of course, Charles likes me tanned, but I’ve told him we’ll need to spend more time at our house in Florida if that’s what he wants,” he added, giggling.

“You have a house in Florida?” I asked, surprised to hear that.

“We do,” Bobbie replied; “and one in Los Angeles and San Francisco as well; plus the condos in New York, Chicago, Paris and London.”

“That’s . . . that’s unbelievable,” I responded, incredulous. “Why would anyone have that many houses?”

“Charles is a very wealthy man,” Bobbie replied. “And we travel a lot on business, of course, so it makes sense to have more than one place. In any event, that’s neither here nor there. If you’re not going to join me, I guess I should get out and dry myself off.”

Using just his arms, he lifted himself up and climbed out of the pool, accenting his muscles in the process. As much as I tried, I couldn’t help myself. I looked at his now fully exposed body and remember gasping silently.

“How did you get so . . . so . . .” I stammered, embarrassed I was asking and yet unable to find the word I was looking for.

“Defined?” Bobbie asked.

“Yeah,” I replied. “I guess that’s a good word for it. You’re not bulked up or excessively muscular like some of the guys at Outlaws, but you’re definitely in great shape.”

“I didn’t use to be,” Bobbie replied, wrapping a towel around his waist, “but we have an exercise room next door with tons of equipment. It’s amazing what spending an hour or two in an exercise room every day can do for your body.”

“Here, let me show you,” he added, leading me out of the swimming pool area and down a corridor.

Opening still another door, the two of us looked in. It had all kinds of weights and machines.

“That’s pretty amazing,” I said, looking over the room. “I don’t know if we had this much equipment at my high school back home.”

“You probably didn’t,” Bobbie, replied, “but then again Charles doesn’t do anything half way. If he decides he wants something, he goes all in and makes sure he gets the very best of everything.”

I was about to ask about Charles, but at that moment the butler reappeared.

“Oh, good,” Bobbie said. “Could you take Jimmy to the library while I get dressed, Marcel?”

“Certainly, Master Robert,” the fellow replied.

“I’ll join you in a couple of minutes,” Bobbie added, turning his attention back to me. “If you want anything while I’m getting dressed, anything at all — a drink, a snack, whatever — just ask Marcel. He’ll fetch whatever you want.”


6 thoughts on “Chapter 15

  1. I just read the last two chapters. You really know how to set the stage. Some may think the stories progress is too slow but I think it is fine. I think Jimmy is moving way too fast for his liking and it will be interesting to see how he reacts now. This is why I think you are a very good writer and it would be a shame if you quit now. However I can understand that with no reaction from your “fans” it is discouraging. Lets hope that I am not alone in liking this story. You have caught the essence of the times very well. I know because I lived it. Keep up the good work.

    1. Unless people start clamoring for me to do so, I doubt I’ll quit, Captain. That wouldn’t be fair to you and whoever else may be reading the story. Without feedback, however, it’s just very hard to know whether I’m capturing the times in a believable way. Worse still, it’s even harder to know if anyone likes the story.

      As I edit chapters from week to week, I see so many things I would have done differently if I had spent more time working on the story before I started posting. Jimmy isn’t a Josh or Nolan or even a Tommy. Neither hero nor villain, he seems kind of pedestrian, confused and much too horny for his own good. That makes drawing him as a character in any kind of sympathetic way more difficult.

      And we should have learned a lot more about Jeff by now! He remains a totally elusive character. By the time I get around to filling him in, no one may even care.

      I’m not going to kick my readers because it’s nice to have some, especially given all the a**holes I have to deal with for the crime of daring to write without the blessing of all the guardians of gay authorship on the web.

      But that’s a story for another day. In any event, thanks for the continuing encouragement, Captain.

  2. No wonder everyone loves Bobby. He is so gentle with Jimmy. I suppose it is too late in your development of the story to hope that Bobby and Jeff find each other, fall in love, and open a B&B in P-Town.

    Damn you Kit … Could you at least write one character I don’t care about. It is gur-wrenching reading this,

    1. That first paragraph is funny, Tim, I’ll grant you that 🙂

      And yet even though both Jimmy and Jeff are from Massachusetts, it’ll probably be another fifteen to twenty years before they have a clue about P-Town. I suspect Bobbie already does, but it doesn’t seem like he’s into starving artists.

      In any event, keep the faith. Like the saying goes, it gets better … though I can’t guarantee it won’t get worse before it gets better.

  3. Dear kit I have been so bad in just catching up with this story and making my first comment. You have got me gripped so much with this story I have made time to sit down and read it all. i guess Bobbie fancys Jimmy and he is so thick or stupid to realise this. for example Bobbie would have been thrilled to see his g string on Jimmy in the pool. I wanted to kick Jimmy in the butt for not seeing this. This shows how good your writing is so good. Please, please continue to post on this lovely story.

    Ps I have no idea what P town is.

    1. Nice to hear from you again, Graham. I’m not sure gorging on one of my stories is healthy, but thanks for doing so anyways 🙂

      P-town is shorthand for Provincetown, a community at the very tip of Cape Cod in the state of Massachusetts (the part of Massachusetts jutting out into the Atlantic Ocean). It’s about as far away from North Adams, where Jimmy and Jeff originate, as you can get while still being in the same state.

      I’m not that familiar with its history, but it became both a tourist destination and a haven for gay people back in the mid-twentieth century. Over time its reputation as a gay haven and vacation spot became more well known. More and more gay people flocked there and the number of gay-owned businesses boomed.

      It’s still as gay as ever from what I can tell although I’ve only visited a couple of times. Back in the early nineteen-sixties and seventies when our story takes place, its reputation would have been less well known, especially for someone from the opposite end of the state.

      At least that’s what I think, but others should feel free to jump in and correct me if I’m wrong about.

      As for Jimmy, we need to cut him a break. His knowledge of gay life is pretty abysmal; it’s kind of the white elephant in the room that he’s been ignoring and is only now beginning to come to grips with. As Tom’s story below suggests, it wasn’t easy back then.

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