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First Boy by Ganymede Chapter Fife I carried the suitcase up to the second floor and into the bedroom I would share with Shelley for the next few days, assuming that he would still want me around after I told him what had happened to him. With nothing else to do while I waited for him to regain consciousness, I opened the suitcase and began to lift out the clothes that Wilderstein had provided. I also wanted to look for a hidden transmitter, because knowing Wilderstein as I did, he would want to know whether the operation was proceeding according to plan. I checked the sizes as I went and wondered who had purchased many of the clothes. Certainly he, and it was more than likely a man, knew exactly what he was doing. Some of the clothes were, in a word highly, seductive. There were ten pairs of slinky silky boxers with 24 inch hips and a form-fitting style that would emphasize Shelley's butt if not define his crack. They were in varying colors, but all of them were very bright. There were two pairs of shorts made of stretch material and cut tight enough for to enhance what little there was between his thighs. There were shorts made of denim that were cut off right below the crotch, and soft cotton shorts with elastic waists and loose legs that would allow a man to see all the way up if he so desired. There were also several pairs of jeans and slacks, all with narrow waists and tight legs. The shirts were similarly themed to the all-consuming interest of a man like myself, if not quite as obvious as the shorts. Several shirts were without arms, a few were made of silk or see-through netting. The tee-shirts were tight for a 26-inch chest, the dress-shirts of vibrant colors and patterns. All of the clothing with the exception of shoes and socks were selected to emphasize the interesting parts of a ten-year-old male body. In any combination of the more than dozen outfits, Shelley would be a very sexy boy. It was about an hour after lunch of the following day when Shelley finally began to come out of the drug-induced stupor that had kept him unconscious for more than 48 hours. For a long time, I waited by the side of his bed, doing my preparation work as often as I was able to focus my attention on anything besides Shelley. Perhaps I should have worked in the adjoining room, but I did not want him waking up by himself. Maria brought me sandwiches and coffee, and displayed the same affection for Shelley that she had every time he stayed at my house. I watched her face, sensing her regret at losing her grandson, Manuel. Both of us had loved him deeply, and after the initial pain of his loss had faded, she became someone who I could trust with my own life. I came to depend upon her not only as a housekeeper but as a close friend. What happened between Shelley and me was no different to my relationship with Manuel, and she was perfectly happy to turn a blind eye and a deaf ear to what we did at night. "He sleeps still?" I looked up from my notes at Maria's worried voice. I nodded. "He's okay." "That Shelley is very beautiful," she said softly. "Like a deer in the woods, he reminds me." I gazed at Shelley. 'Like a deer in the woods'? It was an apt description of the lithe form in motion, but now asleep? There was nothing more beautiful than a sleeping boy, I decided at that instant. The afternoon sunlight grazed his head as it streamed through the window. It was enough to make me take a deep slow breath and concentrate hard to retain that memory for the rest of my life. "Mister Barrett?" I glanced back at Maria, suddenly aware that I had not spoken. The silence lingered, my thoughts overpowering words. It was as if I was talking, telling her of my love for Shelley. It seemed impossible that such perfect beauty could be contained within a single being. Slowly, I nodded. "He's like Manuel." "Yes, I suppose in some ways he is." I smiled slightly. There were physical differences. Blond straight hair compared to curling dark hair, blue innocent eyes compared to sensuous brown eyes, pale skin that tanned slowly compared to radiant bronze. There were other differences too. Although their erections were nearly of the same length, one was circumcised, the other not. Shelley's penis was thinner, but ever so much harder. And he was passive, a natural bottom, while Manuel accepted the boy's role reluctantly. "You love him very much." "Yes, I do." I sensed the thought uppermost in her mind. 'Did I love Shelley as much as Manuel?' Certainly I loved him differently. Unlike Manuel, he had not been a virgin when I met him, yet that did not matter to me. Every minute that we were apart, a nagging loneliness gnawed at my heart. When we were together, I felt alive, more alive than I had ever been. "Mr. Barrett, when you go away, I go to Mexico?" "No, Maria. Not unless you want to. I'd like you to stay with us, always." "I'd like that." She sniffed. She closed her eyes, seeing Manuel where Shelley was lying. I wondered whether she had the same nightmares that haunted me. Like me, she had no one else. When I looked up again, Maria was gone. After a while I made a quick check of Shelley's groin. I was glad to see that the bruising that I had observed earlier in his scrotum had diminished considerably, although there was some firmness that was unnatural. Both testicles appeared to be slightly larger than I remembered, an observation I ascribed to my imagination, or residual swelling of the one remaining. At least there was no sign of infection, I observed with relief. I watched him stir slightly, shifting to a different position from his side to his back. His eyes flickered open, then closed again after only a second. It was only a matter of minutes before he was awake enough to begin to realize where he was. I approached the bed and gazed down at him. I was still uncertain of what I would say. Would I tell him, or use the story I had prepared? I had never lied to him before. However, there was a big difference between telling him what time I would meet him after school, or where I would take him on the weekends, even how I felt about him; and what I would tell him when he was awake. Would he be devastated by what had been done to him against his will? Even though I had been more or less powerless to stop his operation, I had become guilty by accepting it as a logical consequence. In a way, I was an accomplice. How much was I capable of? Certainly, the goal of defending national security was laudable, but it had come at a high cost, the loss of one of Shelley's testicles. Perhaps the worst was yet to come. I knew what the boy had to do within only a few days and I knew he would not want to do it. What was worse, I knew he would do it. I knew why he would do it. He would do it for me. He moved again, his hand instinctively slipping from his waist towards his groin. Despite Wilderstein's assurances that Shelley would experience very little pain, the claim now seemed unrealistic. I winced uncomfortably, remembering how I had always struggled not to hurt him. Whenever we had sex, I was both patient and careful with him, often to a degree that made Shelley quite irritated. He wanted me to be rougher, to take him forcefully until he gasped and writhed in ecstasy. Then he orgasmed. If I was gentle, he enjoyed it, but he made no secret that he felt cheated if there was no mind-numbing climax that left him shuddering and breathless. I smiled. Of course, his exasperation seldom lasted very long. His urge was so overpowering that it gave me cause to wonder exactly what had happened with Robbie. When I reached the peak and plunged the full length of my penis into him, he gave way to his shameless desire, and tightened his inner muscles against my thrusting sex. He knew exactly what to do to push me over the edge. My ejaculation did not seem to bother him except when it happened before his own orgasm. I had no doubt that Robbie had often penetrated his small bottom when Shelley went into his bedroom at night. It was likely that the man gave little thought to increasing Shelley's pleasure. It was even possible that he had resorted to brute force when the tiny hole resisted him. "Hi!" I glanced down. Shelley's eyes were open. I breathed out with relief. "Hi yourself." He yawned sleepily, slowly looking around and blinking erratically as his eyes tried to focus. He frowned. "Where am I? Is it Saturday already?" "You're at my house? You've been here lots of times." "Oh! What am I doing here? Is it the weekend? I can't remember anything. What happened? " I smiled reassuringly. This was the moment of truth, yet truth was far from my mind. As I gazed down at his questioning face, absorbed totally by his gentle blue eyes, I knew I could never tell him what role I had played. I could not live if he hated me. And he would hate me, I knew it with absolute certainty. "You were involved in an accident, Shel," I said carefully. "I brought you here." "I did? What happened? Was it a car wreck?" "No. You fell off your bike." "My bike?" he half-closed his eyes, trying to think back. "I don't remember. What happened?" "I don't know exactly. I got a call from Julia," I lied. That much was true. Julia had called late in the afternoon the same day that Shelley had not arrived home from school. Not that she was interested in where he was, other than in making sure that he was with me. I lied as a matter of routine. I was building a pyramid of lies, yet there was enough truth to tie the lies together that I could establish a foundation that was almost as stable as the truth would have been. Indeed, my story was even more believable to a person who did not know how far the Agency would go to achieve its goals. When Julia asked me how Shelley came to be at my house, I told her that he had called from school and I had picked him up. He had fallen off his bicycle on the way to school. He had a few scrapes. That was enough to convince her foster son was in good care and she hung up after a crude comment about making sure I used 'enough'. "Oh!" I was brought back to the present. I smiled reassuringly. "I was really worried about you, so I brought you here after my doctor had a look at you." "Oh!" "You have a few scrapes on your knees. I guess you landed on some gravel. They probably feel a bit sore, Shelley." "I,... yeah, I guess. Is that what happened? I feel strange." I took a deep breath, wondering what felt 'strange'. It wasn't hard to guess now the numbness was beginning to fade. Wilderstein assured me that the soreness would disappear quickly. "I think your handlebars or something got in the way when you fell off," I said ambiguously. It was a poor lie, but it was more believable than anything else I had come up with. "What do you mean?" "Uh, well,... it's like this," I said awkwardly, to make the story more convincing. You were hit pretty hard,... down there. Something got you right smack in the balls, Shel." I glanced down at his crotch, covered by the blanket and sheet. "Does it hurt down there?" "Yeah, it's kind of sore, Rick." He looked at me uncertainly. "I don't know. It's not like when I got kicked playing soccer. It doesn't hurt a lot. More than anything else, it feels strange,...a bit numb sort of. Was I hurt bad?" "It'll be sore for a few days I guess." "There's a bandage," Shelley said suddenly as his fingers brushed against the gauze. "Why?" "There's a small little cut on the underside of your ballsac. God only knows how you got it. It's right between your legs. I guess something scraped you. You bled a bit until the doctor sewed it up." "Oh!" Slowly he smiled. "I'm naked. Where are my clothes?" "I threw them out. They were ruined, Shel." It was a good excuse to explain the missing clothes. "My jeans? No! They were the ones you bought for me, Rick. I'm sorry." I shrugged dismissively. "So, I'll buy you another pair. It doesn't matter. The important thing is I can't buy another you. At least not for the price of pair of jeans." He smiled slightly. Absently, his fingers probed at the small bulge under the gauze that covered his crotch. He smiled when he saw me observing him. He always became embarassed when I watched him playing with himself, although in my opinion, it was one of the most beautiful sights in the world. "Does it hurt bad?" I asked with concern. "No,... not really. It just feels different somehow." I smiled again. I wanted to change the subject, to get his mind of his testicles before he explored too far and discovered that `different somehow' was really no feeling at all in one of them. "Well,... I bet you're hungry, aren't you?" "When did I eat last?" "Well knowing you, I guess you didn't eat anything before you left for school, did you?" I asked. Shelley moved his head slightly, trying hard to think back. He shook his head slowly, not quite convinced whether he had eaten breakfast or not. "Then it's been quite a while. I really don't know how you do that. Skip breakfast in the morning." "I don't skip all the time. Only when I'm running late. And not when I'm with you. You taste too yummy." He smiled weakly, both of us remembering Sunday morning a week earlier, when Shelley's breakfast consisted of licking a spoonful of homemade blackberry jelly off my penis. It was promptly followed by something more than a teaspoon, and considerably warmer. Being no stranger to the taste of a man's orgasm, Shelley did what came naturally to him. He swallowed, sucking for all he was worth, until my penis became too sore to touch. Then I dragged him away, and tasted what he had tasted directly from his mouth. "Well, I guess you ate what might be called breakfast the last time I saw you. Only I'm not sure it's as good for you as cornflakes. But semen's probably better for you than some of that sugar-coated crap they make for kids, though," I laughed. "It might have protein or something like that in it." Shelley grinned. He was already shrugging off the lethargy that accompanied heavy sedation. I wondered whether he would notice the after effects as much as I did. I had been sick to my stomach for several days the last time I had surgery. Was it really four years ago? Shelley had all the advantages of youth. The answer came faster than I expected. "I'm hungry!" "I'm not surprised. You ought to be starving." "I'm not so hungry I don't want to mess around first." I grinned back at him. "You're incorrigible." "What's that mean?" "You're always horny," I answered. "One of these your dick will drop off from overuse." I leaned forward and kissed his forehead. Immediately his slender arms slipped around my neck and he hugged me tightly, so tightly that I could not get away, even if I had wanted to. I transferred my kiss to his lips, not at all surprised by the insistent pressure of his tongue against my lips. If Shelley had learned how to do just one thing from me, it was how to kiss. I suspected Robbie or Cal weren't much interested in kissing him. Our tongues played together, dabbling in a steady flow of saliva while we kissed passionately. "I've missed you so much, Rick. Kiss me again you fool," he giggled the instant we parted. I laughed. "It's only been a few days, Shel. You'll live." I started to regain control. He gazed at me, not speaking but communicating what he needed more powerfully than words could have. The corners of his eyes were slightly wet. Then his lips compressed. He forced a deliberate long breath that came out as a sigh. I grinned at him, shaking my head as I did. "Rick?" "Yes?" "How long,... I've been here for a long while, haven't I?" "Two days," I answered. Actually it was closer to fifty- three hours. "You've been,... sleeping the entire time," I added. "Did I hit my head or something?" "No. Why do you ask?" "I can't remember anything at all. I can remember being late. And I had to hurry so I was pedalling really fast. I don't even remember falling off my bike." "You will. It's probably the shock or something like that." "I was really out for two whole days?" he asked incredulously. "Yes. You had some help though. The doctor gave you an injection in your butt. That probably had something to do with it." "Thanks for bringing me here." "It's no big deal, Shel. I,...." I stopped when Shelley's hand brushed against mine. "No. I want to tell you something," he said awkwardly. "Okay. One minute and that's all," I chided. "You need to eat something before you die of starvation. As I have it figured you haven't eaten for at least sixty hours. I'm surprised you're not taking bites out of me." Shelley smiled. "I will if you let me. Only I get to pick where." "I know what you're after, and you're not getting any. At least not until you've eaten something. Then we'll take a look at your balls and see if you're up to any tricks." He nodded. "I,..." he breathed out. "I don't want to go back there. It's getting worse." "With Robbie or Cal?" Shelley nodded. "With Robbie. Julia,... she doesn't care either. I told her, like you said., that I didn't like Robbie doing it to me. He keeps trying to touch me and do stuff to me. Sometimes he even does it in front of them. He always wants to put his cock in my butt. It's not like you. I like you doing it, Rick. He gets me hard, and when he is too, he makes me suck him. I told him I didn't want to do that with him any more. He grabs at me too, all the time. Sometimes I think he's trying to hurt me, he grabs so hard. And when I tell him to stop, he just laughs and keeps doing it. When I first woke up and felt the bandage, I thought he'd hurt me down there." I held his small hand, feeling his warmth sink into me. His fingers closed, wrapping a boyish fist around two of my fingers. "It's okay, now Shelley. It really is. I have something to tell you. If you want, I'm going to adopt you. He'll never bother you again." "Don't promise what you can't deliver, Rick. That's what you said, remember?" Shelley retorted. He grimaced. "God I wish you could adopt me. Then I could live with you. You could be my father,... well we could pretend you were at least. No one would know if we didn't tell them 'cause I even look a bit like you. We could move far away from here where no one would ever find us." I groaned inwardly. Now was the time. It was now or never. "Shelley, if I could adopt you. If you could live with me, you'd really like that, wouldn't you?" "Yeah. Of course I would." I nodded. "And I would too, Shel. It would be the best thing that ever happened to me." "Only it's impossible. I know that. You said you'd have to get married first. I'd give anything, except I don't want to share you with some woman. Not even Maria," he joked feebly. "What would you give, Shel," I asked gently. He swallowed. His hand wiped over his eyes, removing a tear quickly before I saw it. "I can't say I'd give everything I have because I don't have anything. I don't have anything worth more than few bucks, except for the clothes you bought me. But if I could, I'd give anything." He sniffed. "I'd give my left nut if I could live with you. Heck, I'd probably give both of them. Only it's not going to happen!" he finished adamantly. "Shelley, " I interrupted. His offer was resounding in my head like a hammer beating against a brass cymbal. It was all I could do to speak. His offer was frightening. What were the chances? "It's possible, okay... If I do a job for someone I don't particularly like. It's not a very nice job. I don't want to do it, understand? But if I do, then I get some papers that say I've adopted you." "What do you have to do?" "Remember last weekend when we were talking about spies?" Shelley nodded. "After we saw that movie o tv. You said it was a long way from what spies really did." I nodded. "Shelley, a few years ago I used to work for the government. I was called a D-O-2. It means district officer- distance operations. It's a fancy word for a spy. I used to run a small team of field agents. Mostly we worked in Central and South America. For a few years I was stationed in Mexico. We were trying to stop drug dealers or arms merchants. That sort of thing." "Wow! I thought spies only spied against the Russians and Chinese." "The government wasn't much interested in anything else at the time. I got out after a while, because a friend of mine was killed." For a few seconds I thought about telling Shelley who the friend was and what he meant to me. I pushed the memory of Manuel Navarro back into the recesses of my mind where it had belonged for the last four years. In time I would tell Shelley about another boy who had come into my life for a few wonderful months. Manuel was Hispanic and dark-skinned. He was twelve years old when he died, his body mutilated. At the same time, his father died with two bullets buried in his brain. I breathed out slowly, letting my anger dissipate. "I promised myself I would never work for them again. Only it doesn't work like that. You see, they know a lot about me so they can force me to do things." Shelley sensed my problem and voiced it aloud. "Do they know about me?" he asked nervously. "Yes. They even have photos of us, Shel. They were taken the first time, the time when I took you to the motel. The photos are downstairs. The thing is, they've threatened to use to photos of us to put me in jail." Shelley's face crumbled. "No!" "It's okay. You see I know what they want. I have to do a job for them. That's all they really want. If I do it, then I get to adopt you, and we get a bunch of money so we can move a long way away from here." "Is it dangerous?" "Not for me. It might be dangerous for someone else." That someone else was Shelley. Even though I had agreed to do the assignment, even to follow the strategy that Wilderstein wanted, I knew that if there was the slightest chance of Shelley being hurt badly, or worse, I would abandon the operation immediately and execute my own plan for disappearing, hopefully to a place where even the Agency could not find me. The only problem was that Wilderstein would act on that assumption as well. He would have a termination plan ready to put into operation at the first sign of my departure. I knew too much. "Do you have to kill someone?" "No! But if things don't go according to plan there's a good chance I would," I said honestly. "Then I could live with you?" Shelley asked nervously. "You could even adopt me?" I nodded again, slowly. "I made that part of the deal." "You know what you're going to do, already, don't you?" I shrugged. "I'd do anything to keep you with me." "So would I," Shelley murmured selflessly. "Shelley, I want you to answer me very honestly. It's very important that you think hard about what I say and give me your real feelings." I began nervously, wondering whether he would agree. However, I knew Shelley Lawlor well enough to know his answer even before the question was out of my mouth. "Okay," he said softly. He gazed at me with such loyalty and affection that I was unable to speak. "Well?" he asked impatiently, "I don't have all day." I smiled feebly. Sooner or later he would have to find out. "Shelley, what I'm going to tell you is a secret. You must never tell anyone." "I promise, cross my heart and hope to die," he said seriously. For a ten-year-old, it was a promise that was not to be broken under any circumstances. "There's a very important man in DC who's been giving information to the Russians, Shel. The information is so important that the country's security may be at risk. Lots of Americans probably have died because of it already. And if he keeps doing it, a lot more will die." "He's a spy?" "Yes. A very dangerous spy because he's so high up in the government. Because of who he is, everyone believes him. No one thinks he's a spy. That's why it's so important that he's stopped." "Hm,... and they want you to catch him," Shelley grinned proudly. "You must be a really good spy then." I smiled, as proud of Shelley as he was of me. "I'm okay. The thing is, I need you to help me, though." "Me? What can I do?" "This man, well he's a bit like me in some ways,... one way actually. You see, he also likes boys." "Oh!" Shelley smirked. "The only way to get close enough to him to find out how he's passing information to the Russians is for a boy like you to be with him when he does." "Um,... I don't think I understand." I half-closed my eyes. There were a few parts of the operation that Shelley did not need to know about, not the least being how I would know what was happening wherever he went. In fact, the so-called `need to know basis' that most spy movies ridiculed were based on a single reason. 'need to know' generally made it safer for the people on the front line. If the operation did not succeed, it was possible that not knowing some of the details could preserve Shelley's life long enough for me to help him. He might be tortured or drugged, but he would still be alive while his interrogators tried to discover how much he knew. "Let me put it this way.... When you and I do it," I began cautiously. "If you mean have sex, why don't you say it Rick," Shelley interjected. "Okay. It's nothing to be ashamed about, is it? We always do it, have sex, in places that are very private don't we? So no one will know we have sex. It's our secret, isn't it?" "Yes. I'll never tell anyone, you know that. I don't want anyone else to know either," Shelley said confidently. "Okay. Well it's possible that this man also takes a boy to a very private place. If people found out that he liked boys he'd be in a lot of trouble." "Just like you would be, if they found out you were fucking a ten-year-old boy," Shelley teased. "You've got that right. Okay, now it's very possible that other secrets get told in the same place. Hell, it's even possible that the Russians provide the boy in order to keep the man happy so he keeps telling them secrets." "Is the boy like my age, Rick?" "I guess so. We think he likes boys between ten and twelve. One of his earlier boy friends was a lot like you. He even looked like you, Shel, right down to the blond hair and blue eyes." "So you want me to,..." Shel stopped, the thought unfinished. He swallowed anxiously. He looked out the window silently. "If you help me catch this man, I'll be able to adopt you." "Will I,..." I smiled gently. "Yes. I'm pretty sure you'll have to have sex with him." "You mean all the way, don't you Rick? He'll want to butt- fuck me, won't he?" "I guess." I sighed. "I wish there was another way, but there isn't. Really there isn't. If you're lucky it may be only one or two times, Shel. I wish to God, you didn't have to do this. " "Only it might take more than one or two times. That's what you can't promise me, isn't it?" Shelley interrupted. He glared at me with something approaching anger. He had trusted me, and now this. I had violated his trust. I felt a gut- wrenching fear. He hated me. I could see resentment in his eyes. I had given him good reason to be bitter. My words of love accounted for nothing. I was no different to Wilderstein. And then he smiled slightly. "You'll be able to adopt me if we do this," he whispered. "You'll really adopt me?" "Yes. Really and truly. Afterwards we'll disappear. We'll go away where no one will ever find us, Shel." "Promise?" "Yes, I promise." "You can never break a promise if you cross your heart and hope to die." I made the motions that Shelley had made only minutes earlier as I intoned the necessary words. "Who is he?" Shelley asked after a few moments of prolonged silence. "He's the President, Shel'" I answered. Chapter Six The plane banked slightly and as the turn was completed, the nose dipped noticeably. From the window beside Shelley, I watched the city slide slowly past as we paralleled the river. Several dozen office towers were set well back from the river. In front of the city was a large construction project that covered a freeway and sports stadiums. Again the plane banked, turning away from city towards the final approach that would take us into the airport. Only a few minutes remained until we landed. It was Shelley's first ride in an aeroplane and he had experienced it in style, going First Class. "How are you doing?" I asked quietly. Shelley grinned. "Okay. Everything looks so small." "From up here it is small," I finished with a laugh. "We'll be landing soon," I added. I placed my hand on Shelley's knee. "Just remember what we talked about during the last few days." "I worried. Maybe I'll get mixed up and call you Rick, or I won't remember my name. Or,..." "Don't worry. You'll do great, Shel." I leaned slightly and checked his seat belt. It provided the opportunity to lightly run my hand across his crotch. Shelley giggled. His hand closed over mine, holding it over his penis. He pressed down so that I could feel through his clothing. There was no mistaking what was causing the soft bulge. I rubbed gently, massaging. "Mmmm,... That's feels so nice, Rick," Shelley sighed. I quickly glanced to the other side, although there was no need to because the seat across the aisle was empty. However, Shelley had already made a mistake that could be disastrous. I lifted my hand away forcefully removing his hand. He glanced at me and I glared at him. The hurt in his eyes was almost unbearable. He swallowed, his eyes watering. He was frightened. "I'm sorry, Dad," he whispered. His emphasis on 'Dad' was unmistakable. He had realized his mistake, and unless I was very mistaken, it would not happen again. I nodded. Slowly I replaced my hand to give his knee a fond squeeze, the kind of squeeze that wasn't about lust and sex, but simply about love, a father's love. I heard the distant whine of gears engaging, flaps extending or landing gear descending. Only minutes remained before we landed. It was time for the show to begin in earnest. A Corvette was waiting at the Airport. Again, Wilderstein's selection was entirely appropriate, although my personal style would have preferred something less ostentatious, like a Porsche. It took a few seconds to find the keys in my briefcase. Shelley stood by, shifting nervously from foot to foot while I loaded the two matching leather cases into the tiny trunk. He continually glanced around, as if searching for someone. I breathed out, as nervous as he was but for very a different reason. Once inside the car he settled down a bit, but he kept both hands in his lap, showing visible trepidation. He had a bad case of the 'first-time jitters'. Even seasoned agents experienced some apprehension so I was not surprised. I negotiated the way out of the garage, paid a $10.00 parking charge, and headed out into a city where I had never been before. The roads were remarkably uncrowded compared to what I was used to in D.C. It took only about ten minutes or less to reach the downtown. I parked at the curb of the hotel, handed the key to the attendant and walked through the automatic doors into another era. The hotel, built in the Art Deco style, was on the National Register for Historic Places. Huge vases of orchids were placed in the foyer, separating the check-in area from the restaurants. I made a mental note to reserve a table for that evening. Our room was on the fifteenth floor with a view overlooking the Ohio River. With the construction in the foreground it was not much of a view. However, the suite that Wilderstein had booked was more than adequate. At $450 a night, I was glad it was paid from the expense account. It was very different to the first hotel room that I had shared with Shelley. There were two ornately framed beds, both king-size, with covers of brocaded satin. After a cursory glance Shelley started towards the open door of the bathroom. "I have to pee something awful," he said over his shoulder. "It must be all the Cokes you drank on the flight." He grinned and I watched his rear until it disappeared from sight, ever fascinated by the slight wiggle of his buttocks. It wasn't deliberate, but it looked very sexy. His boy's bottom was small and firm, not a 'bubble butt' by any stretch of the imagination, but then I was never very excited by them. "Wow!" Shelley exclaimed from the bathroom. I followed the sound of his voice and entered through the panelled doors. The bathroom was nothing short of spectacular. A full length-full width mirror on one wall was interrupted only by a green and black marble vanity top that seemed to go forever. The same color marble had been used on the floor and halfway up the other walls, and the huge whirlpool bathtub was almost the same shade of green. The towels were black and so thick that they barely fit over the rail. "Cool huh?" I smiled. "Very cool!" Shelley agreed. He turned to face me, grinning with pleasure. "I think I'm going to like having a bath here." "Because the tiles aren't falling off the wall?" I suggested. "Because you can shower with me, silly." He glanced at the toilet. "I have to go pee, Dad." 'Dad' sounded right and I smiled back at him. "So? Do you want me to leave? Unless I'm mistaken I've seen it all before." Shelley smirked. He took only a second or two before his zipper was open. I watched him fumble with his boxers, pushing neon-blue out of the way to display the tip and about half the length of his short pink penis. He smiled like a cherub, gleefully pointing his penis towards the toilet while he continued to look over his shoulder. "Watch what you're pointing him at," I chided. "Otherwise there'll be pee everywhere." I crossed the floor and stood behind him, placing my hands on his shoulders. Both of his hands were at his crotch, directing what was now a steady stream of pale urine into the bowl. It spattered into the water in a circular fashion as he rotated the tip with boyish charm, traced up one side of the bowl almost to the lip, then down again. I felt his body tense as he emptied the last of it from his bladder, then a slight jerk as he flipped the end clear. He turned back to face me. "Feel better?" I asked. "Much! Boy, I needed that. I felt like I was about to burst when we were checking in," he giggled. "I'm glad you didn't." "Do you want to mess around for a while?" Shelley asked softly. "Meaning?" "Whatever you want it to mean, Rick, sorry I mean Dad." "That could be fun," I laughed. "You have to remember, okay. I know you'll screw up sometimes. If we're together and no one else knows, it's okay, but if you do it at the wrong time, it could really cause problems." "I'm sorry," Shelley said dejectedly. "I keep forgetting." "Would you like me to be your dad?" I asked seriously. "Yes. You know I do. Not my real dad, because you're not, but I'd still like you to be like,..." He left the thought unfinished for a few seconds. "So it's time for you to start thinking of me as your dad, Shel. Besides I will be your dad once this is finished you know. You might as well start practicing now, because once I adopt you, you're going to be my son." "I want that more than anything." He sighed. "Assuming we'd still had sex and stuff. It's just so hard to keep pretending all the time." I nodded understandingly. "Okay, so what do you want to do?" First we both get naked," Shelley giggled. "You have to take off my clothes this time," he instructed. "Hm,..." I pretended to ponder. "Here, in bathroom?" "If you want," Shelley answered suggestively. "Or in the bedroom. You get to choose." My grip on his shoulders tightened and I drew him closer so that his chest was against my belly. With his head so close, I could smell the lingering scent of the shampoo he had used earlier that morning. Fine gossamer hair tickled my nose. I kissed the top of his head and immediately felt his arms lock around my back to give me a hug of his own. We stood there, our bodies together. It seemed that every moment we spent together we became even closer. "Mmmm," I sighed. "You feel so good." "I love you, Dad," Shelley said softly. This time there was no mistake. The word had come naturally to him and he had said it without even thinking about it. "I love you so much," I whispered in his ear. "This job will be over before you know it and we'll always be together." "I know. That's why I agreed to do it." My right hand eased down his slender back and playfully grasped his firm buttocks. The thought of another man trespassing into the place that now belonged to me was revolting. I was frightened that it would change our relationship. It was too late to stop. My hand lifting higher tugging his shirt out of his jeans. Automatically, his arms lifted up, stretching his chest until his ribs were like bands underneath the tight shirt. I pulled the warm cloth high, up to his armpits, brushing my hand into his humid softness, then tugging gently to get the shirt past his head. I dropped it on the floor behind him. He stood there, arms raised above his head still, an angelic smile, proudly showing himself. "You can put your arms down now," I laughed. "Lick my armpits." "Lick your armpits?" "Uh huh!" "It'll tickle," I warned. "So? I don't mind." I twisted to the side, stooping slightly so that my head came to his right side. For a second I nuzzled the warmth within the hairless hollow offered to my tongue. There was faint smell, human, boy, slightly sweaty. I licked across the exposed concavity under his shoulder, tasted sweetness. I heard just the barest hint of a giggle as my tongue probed, swirling back and forth across the tender area. "Mmmmmm,...." Shelley sighed. I brought my mouth into contact with his saliva-slicked skin, smooching with wet suction. His giggle returned, becoming a little louder. I sucked harder, playfully nipping with my teeth. My hand caressed his chest, searching for the softness of his nipples. Then pinching the tiny circle, teasing the delicate flesh until it became firmer and a point appeared. I began to rub it between my thumb and first finger, squeezing it gently until Shelley quivered and whimpered, pushing his buttocks back against my thigh. "Uh hem." I jerked away the instant I heard the noise from the other room. I heard Shelley whisper, 'oh shit'. "Yes?" I said as I turned around to look behind me. "Ah, where should I put these bags, sir?" The bellboy was barely able to hold back a smile as he looked at me knowingly. I assumed he had seen us together. Working in a hotel, such things were probably not that unusual, but he could still cause problems. I walked out of the bathroom with a calm detachment. "Just put them beside the bed," I answered. I studied him as he unloaded the trolley that stood next to the door. The black man was young, probably in his early twenties. I wondered how much it would take for our unannounced visitor to have seen nothing. I opened my wallet and withdrew a fifty dollar bill and closed the distance between us. He waited expectantly. He glanced past me. His eyes lit up. Shelley had come to the bathroom door and was standing there watching us. "Cute," he added with a grin directed first at the half- naked boy and then at me. "You saw nothing," I said dryly. I held the money out with two fingers. "Yeah, I saw nuthin' man," he repeated. He took the money and backed out of the room. I closed the door behind him. "Shit!" Shelley said loudly. "That's probably an inappropriate word to describe how you feel, but it works for me," I laughed. "From now on we better be more careful." "Do you think he'll tell?" Shelley asked nervously. "Not if he wants another fifty, he won't. I expect he'll be back sooner or later." I walked back to Shelley and placed my arms around his chest, hugging him lovingly. "I'm sorry," he said apologetically. "There's nothing to be sorry about." I hugged him tighter, feeling the familiar urge growing like the erection that was growing in my crotch. Shelley pressed hard against me, rubbing his belly deliberately against my bulge. I clasped his buttocks with one hand to keep up close together and fondled the back of his neck with the other hand. With his jeans on, it was usually difficult to tell whether he was sexually aroused or not, but from the way he was moving his body against me, it seemed to be more than likely. At that moment, I wanted to have sex with Shelley more than ever before. I wanted to kiss him and remove the rest of his clothing. I wanted to lead him to the bed and place his slender body in the position I most enjoyed, where I could penetrate him and watch his facial expressions while he experienced the pain and pleasure of being loved by a man. There was always a moment during our love-making when it changed from one to the other, when discomfort ended and exquisite delight took over. Then he would tremble uncontrollably, yielding his body for my satisfaction. I wanted to cradle him in my arms and feel my penis lodged deep inside him. There was never a rush. We always began slowly, gently, taking it a bit further each thrust until he was fully relaxed and my penis was contained inside him. Usually, we came to the crescendo only after his sphincter was fully dilated. When he was completely loosened, when the pain was gone, he was as anxious as I was. We tried to delay the inevitable, a perverse situation because we both wanted to feel my semen spurting into his bowels at the same time he writhed and gasped in his own ecstasy. When we were mutually satisfied, then and only then could I claim him as mine. However, I gently eased him away. Taking his hand, I led him to the couch next to the window. "It's practice time," I explained. "This may be our last chance to go over it. So let's get started." "Okay, Dad," Shelley said simply. He enjoyed using the word so much that he used it even when it was unnecessary. He took a deep breath and began to repeat what he had learned by heart. "My name is Shelley Walker. I'm your son. Your name is Robert. Everyone calls you Bob. You're forty one. My mom died when I was three. We live in Palm Beach in Florida. I go to school at Robertson Academy. I'm ten and I'm in the fourth grade. I like to,..." He paused and took another deep breath. I shook my head. "Don't just repeat it, Shel. I want you to say it like you mean it. Like I asked you a question about who you are, or where you came from." "Huh?" "Let's try it this way." I smiled at him reassuringly. "Tell me about your home." "Home?" Uh,... um,... well,..." He stumbled nervously. "I live in,... um, ah, a house, um near the beach." I laughed and ruffled his hair. "Take it a step at a time. Pretend you're talking with a boy your own age. Or someone you really like. Don't be scared." "Okay," Shelley said quickly. He swallowed. I had second thoughts about whether he was going to be able to do what was required of him. He had to appear natural, and if anything, the closer we came to the hour of reckoning, the more nervous he became. Short of having sex I knew of no other way to restore his confidence. "Pretend I'm someone else. Tell me about your dad," I prompted gently. "Um, well,... he's my dad," Shelley began. He looked at me questioningly. Slowly he smiled. "Usually I don't see all that much of him. He's pretty busy most of the time. Even when he's home he works, or he's meeting with people." "But he brought you on this trip?" "I guess he thought it would be cool if I met the President," Shelley answered with a shy smile. "I sorta pestered him too." "That's very good," I said. "Now Shel, let's pretend that you're talking with the President." I paused for a moment to let him get used to the idea. "Tell me about what your father does for a living." "Uh,... um,..." "Take your time. Think first, then speak," I cautioned. "Remember I'm not your dad, now." "I guess he runs his company," Shelley answered smoothly. I nodded. It was a good answer, the kind of answer a ten- year-old boy would give. "He's the president, right?" I asked. Shelley nodded vaguely, seeming not very interested. He was catching on quickly. "I guess. That's why he's never home. He's always travelling to places." "Like where?" "Um,... well he goes to Mexico, and what's the place called 'Bol, uh, livia', or something. Mostly that's where he goes." "What does he do there?" "He works," Shelley replied. He shrugged, glancing down at the floor. "Come on, you can do better than that," I interjected. "I don't know what he does." "Come on! His company imports drugs from there, did you know that?" "No!" "Yes you do." "He wouldn't do that!" "Are you sure? He does, you know. He imports cocaine. Do you know what that is?" "Don't lie to me," Shelley retorted. He swallowed, drawing back into the couch. His hands clenched until his knuckles turned white. He glared at me angrily. His lips compressed. "You know what he does, don't you?" "Maybe," Shelley answered after a long pause. "I wish,..." he stopped, eying me suspiciously. "What do you wish?" I asked patiently. "Nothing!" He was adamant. "I wish he wouldn't do it!" "Do you miss not having him around?" "Yes!" "You're afraid he get killed, aren't you?" "Yes!" I breathed out. Shelley had performed admirably, far better than my expectations. I hoped he would do the same when he was in the real situation. A little nervousness was only to be expected. Any ten-year-old boy would be nervous talking to the President. Slowly I placed my hand on Shelley's knee. "You're a very nice boy, Shelley," I said softly. He swallowed, blinked rapidly, licked his top lip. "Uh,..." "You have a great body. A very beautiful body." He froze. His nostrils flared when he suddenly breathed. He held the breath. His eyelids fluttered. He was responding exactly as he should. "Do you like boys?" he blurted out shamelessly. "Do,... I,... like,... boys?" I repeated slowly. "What do you think?" Shelley smiled. "Yes." "Maybe I do. Would that bother you?" Shelley shrugged. "You know what men and boys do together, don't you?" I queried. He shrugged again. "I guess. One of the men my dad works with kinda,... you know,... did stuff with me a while back." "Oh! Did you enjoy what you did with him?" "It was okay, I guess." "Just okay?" "It was fun." "Did your father know?" "I guess," Shelley answered uncertainly. "He wanted the man to do something for him. I did what he wanted." "What did he want from the man?" "I don't know." "And what did you do with him?" "He sucked me." I grinned. His answer was straight forward and just shameless enough to suggest that he was not averse to doing it again. I was becoming increasingly confident in Shelley's ability to pull it off. He was the picture of innocence to look at, yet the nervous tremble in his voice conveyed much more. It said he was excited by what he was discussing. "Okay, Shel," I said softly. "You're doing great." Shelley grinned proudly. "I pretended just like you said. I made like I was an actor." "Well whatever it was, you were fantastic," I said with admiration. "Don't come on too strong with him." "I thought I was supposed to know all about sex?" "You're not supposed to be a whore, Shel,... I don't know, I guess you're a bit more experienced because of what you did when you were with the president of Brazil Air. If anyone asks why you did it, what do you say?" "You wanted me to." "Not exactly. I told you to. Remember that! I didn't ask you, I told you to do it. He has to think that you'll do whatever I tell you to do. You have to give him the idea that you didn't mind doing it, but it wasn't something you did by yourself." "So because you want him to do something for you, you'll make me fuck with him?" Shelley asked crudely. He was a fast learner, although his language left something to be desired. "Something like that. I'm a drug dealer, remember. They'll find that out as soon as they have a background check run on me. Knowing that, they'll soon figure out that how much I want the opposition eliminated. The only question will be how much am I prepared to pay." "I thought you were going to give them a lot of money for that?" "A hundred thousand dollars. It isn't all that much. What I want will take more than money. It he takes a liking to you,... well I feel pretty badly about your role," I added gently. Shelley gave me a wry look. "I can handle it." "I know you can," I said softly. "I love you Shel," I added. "I know. I love you back." We gazed at each other. On the surface he looked innocent, but inside he was feeling the same powerful urge as I did. His eyes flickered with growing interest, responding to my unspoken thoughts. "We could do it right now?" he suggested quietly. He quivered with excitement. "You said we don't have to be there until six o'clock." I smiled. My appointment with Jack Seidelman was at six p.m. It was still several hours away. Yet, despite my almost insatiable appetite for Shelley's beautiful body, I slowly shook my head. "Not now, Shel. I don't want you dribbling semen later on." "I'm not supposed to be a virgin, remember?" "That's true, but you're not supposed to be a whore either." He wrinkled his nose. "I can get most of it out sitting on the toilet. It won't seep through my undies then. Besides, you could always pull him out before you did it." I laughed. "I know, but that would ruin the best part. I like doing it inside you. That way I know you belong to me. But not now, okay? We've been really good up till now. If we did it, your butthole wouldn't be as tight and he'll probably know something is wrong. Besides, we have to get dressed soon." "But we have two whole hours," Shelley whined playfully. "At least you could get off in my mouth," he offered. "I guess, but knowing what you really want, well it wouldn't be very fair, now would it?" I joked. "So!" he retorted sulkily. "I like suckin' you nearly as much. It's just that the other stuff, well,..." Shelley shrugged, forcing a weak smile to show he was not really angry. "I know you like doing it... And there won't be a chance. That's what you said,... probably not until this is over,... and I'm going to miss him,... and you too, so much. I don't want to have sex with anyone else." "I know, Shelley." "I'm only doing it so we can,... afterwards,... you know,... be together." "It's when you're like this, I know how much I love you," I said gently. "I love you," Shelley blurted out. "I think when this is finished, I'm going to get into bed with you and stay there for a whole day." "Just a day?" I teased. "For me it's more likely going to be a whole week." "How about a whole month! No, a whole year!" Shelley giggled. "We'll have Maria cook for us, and make the bed while we're still in it," I joked. "She's been very understanding about our secret." He paused a moment, tilting his head slightly to the side in the way that he often did when he was thinking. Slowly he looked at me. "When this is over could we go away somewhere, where it would be just us." "You mean just the two of us?" I ascertained. "No. You and me, and Maria. I like having her around. She's kewl about it." "You mean about sex?" Shelley giggled. "Yeah, she talks to me about it. She wanted to make sure I was happy and I knew what I was doing. She thinks you're really handsome." Lovingly I caressed his thigh. My hand slowly progressed higher and higher, until my fingertips brushed against the firm mound of his compact crotch. My contact elicited a shy smile. Automatically, Shelley's knees eased further apart to provide me access. Playfully I stroked across the little hump centered between the boy's legs. Shelley smirked, visibly enjoying my gentle caress. "You keep doing that, and you won't be able to stop." "Hm,... I guess you're right." "Are we going to live in Mexico?" "Would you like to?" "Well,... I guess I would. I've never been there,... You did say I could help choose where we live, didn't you?" "Yes, I did." For several more seconds it was still impossible to determine whether my stroking hand was having the desired effect. Shelley blinked and breathed out languidly. A moment later the density of the small bulge under my fondling fingers changed. An erection was forming, making its presence known with a gradually increasing firmness and elongation that began to lift his clothing up. "I want to live somewhere where we don't have to be ashamed." "The problem is, Shel, that there aren't any places like that in the world. It would be like trying to find a deserted island." He gave me a smug look. "I don't mean it like that. I want to be a long way from DC." "You'll never see them again. I promise," I reassured him as I understood why he was so worried. Shelley moved slightly and pressed his groin against my cupped hand. "You feel so good. I want to be sexy with you," he said softly. "I wish we could just be ourselves." "It bugged you when the bell-boy came in, didn't it?" "Yes! I could see it on his face. He thought I was,... " "He thought you were incredibly sexy," I interjected. "He probably thought you were a girl at first." "No! He thought it was disgusting. That's what most people think about queers," Shelley said adamantly. I looked at him sadly. He bit his lower lip, half-closing his eyes. I sensed his torment, the jeering words of other boys when they made fun of boys like Shelley. I wondered whether he had heard the words of derision, the natural antagonism between straight and gay. "It's not disgusting. They just don't understand," I said. "I don't want to be ashamed of you. I want to live somewhere where no one cares what we do." I nodded. "That would be about the same as living on a deserted island." "Maybe. But if we were a long way away from other people, they wouldn't know." "You mean find a place where we could go and not be noticed?" "We could get a farm. There would be enough money for that, wouldn't there?" "I guess. I don't know very much about farming," I replied vaguely. I wondered whether Shelley had overheard my plans for disappearing. I had been very careful to make sure that he did not hear. Not that it was a secret from him, but there was a chance that he might say the wrong thing at the wrong time. Shelley grinned. "Well, you could learn. And I would help you so I wouldn't have to go to school." I laughed, playfully tugging at the metal tag of his zipper. Knowing how much Shelley disliked the school he attended, it was easy to understand why he wanted to get as far away from school as he could. He knew very little about my youth. Very few people knew that I had grown up on a ranch in Wyoming. Not that I was planning to return to Wyoming when this was over, but I did intend to put my experience to work for me. I opened his zipper slowly, enjoying the feel of his squat stiffness under my fingers. I knew I would not be able to stop myself. For the first time in nearly a week, I was completely subordinated to the surge of desire I felt for him. I wanted to make love to him. I realized I was going to make love to him. "Well, I guess we could. You could try home schooling for a while," I said with barely restrained lust. "What's that?" "It where you have lessons at home. I'd be your teacher." "But what about school?" "If we bought a farm, it might be too far for you to go to school. Besides, I'm not sure I want you hanging around all those horny farm boys. You'll have me as a teacher instead. I'll teach you everything you need to know," I said. Shelley laughed. "I know what you'll want to teach me, and it won't be Math or English." At that moment, the telephone rang. I sighed, thinking it was the hotel calling about something unimportant. It was very unlikely that the bell-boy had violated the unspoken rule of all bell-boys. A sizable tip was supposed to ensure secrecy. Shelley gave me a wry look that reflected our mutual frustrations. I picked up the telephone. It was Jack Seidelman. I listened more than I spoke. After a minute I put the receiver down and smiled weakly. "It looks like we're going to work a few hours sooner than I expected," I explained. "Go get your clothes on."