NONE ENTERED BY AUTHOR
A - H I - P Q - Z Newest Files
First Boy by Ganymede Chapter One. It was cold, so cold that two thick blankets were not enough to keep the creeping chill from the bed. Even with a hangover it was obvious that sometime during the night the heater had stopped working. I had consumed equal parts of tequila, triple-sec, dark rum, and freshly squeezed lime juice until I staggered to the bathroom, splattered piss over the seat and floor, and collapsed in the nearest chair. I could not even remember getting into bed and pulling the blankets over me. Like every moment of my day (and night) my thoughts drifted to boys, or to be more accurate, one boy in particular. I dozed with thoughts of Shelley, no longer inebriated, yet still in a soporific stupor that would last until midday. With luck I would not forget any of the dreams I had. Then the phone rang. I heard a single word before I replaced the receiver with a loud bang. He gave only his first name. That was enough for the caller was a person who I would never forget. There was only one reason why he was calling me. "Fuck!" I swore. The phone rang again. This time I let it ring, pulling the pillow over my head rather than venture out from the limited warmth afforded by the blankets. Without an answering system, the phone continued to ring. Persistently, its strident note penetrated the foam pillow and reached its harsh demand for attention into my consciousness. "Fuck!" I cursed again. I picked up the telephone, resisting the urge to tear the line out once and for all. "Yes?" "You know who it is! This is Jacob Wilderstein!" "I know who the fuck it is!" I spat out. "I don't take calls from assholes!" "Very funny. I have a job for you, Rick." "The hell you do. I don't work for assholes either." "What are you doing nowadays?" "That's none of your business," I snarled. "I'm freelance now." "So I hear. Keeping real busy too, I understand." Wilderstein added sarcastically. "My clients have interests that need taking care off. I get rid of problems for them." "When you worked for the Agency you were good at handling unusual problems. I've got one right now that might be very interesting to you." "I'm not working for you any longer. I took early retirement, remember?" I replied angrily. "I remember. It was a difficult situation, wasn't it? However, I think you still owe me one," Wilderstein said. "I owe you?" I asked dryly. "Get real! I owe you nothing, Wilderstein." "Really?" "Forget it! I'm out of it! Gone, Finished!" "Really? Now, Rick you're not out of it yet. Not after what you did with that cute little blond boy you met in Arlington. What was his name? Martin wasn't it? It was about four months ago, I think. I'm sure you haven't forgotten him already." Wilderstein joked. In the back of my head, an alarm bell went off with a loud clang. I tensed, waiting to hear the rest of what he knew. The silence lengthened until there was no point in concealing what both of us knew. He had told me that he not only knew about Martin, he also knew about Shelley. I sighed. "Shelley. His name was Shelley," I answered testily. There was an period of dead silence. Blackmail was a fact of life with people like Jacob Wilderstein, their protestations of national security to the contrary. I could hear his barely restrained mirth when he began to talk again. "Don't you wonder why he likes you so much? You're so old it must seem to him like you're his father." "Get to the point!" I countered angrily. "There's no big rush. Surely you know by now that I always try hard to take care of my friends, Rick. Even when they have unusual interests like yours. Maybe I should say especially when they have skills like yours." "Very funny! I'm not in the mood to fuck around with you. What do you want?" I demanded. "I'm hardly someone you'd want to fuck around with, am I? I have a job for you." Wilderstein answered. "Are you interested in volunteering?" "No!" "It really doesn't matter. But then you probably realize that, don't you Rick? This is a matter of national security. I'm not going to bullshit you. It's important. The fact is you're the best person for the job." "I don't care if the fate of the world hangs in the balance. I'm out of it. I've been out of it four nearly four years." "You really don't have a choice," Wilderstein said. "Maybe I'll still say no!" I replied. My mind plotted quickly. I could be away in a few hours. There was nothing to keep me in Annapolis. I would need to go to the bank, spend a few hours at the marine store, supermarket, and liquor store, and then I could head south. By evening I would be all way the down the Chesapeake, and either follow the Intercoastal all the way to Florida or head out to sea in my 27 foot sailboat. With luck, I could stay out of sight long enough for Wilderstein and his Agency friends to lose interest. "I really don't think so. There are some photos of you and little Shelley Lawlor sitting here on my desk. He doesn't have any clothes on. In fact, neither do you!" "Get to the point!" "I can't believe you did it to him. You put it in his ass and he was barely ten at the time." Wilderstein waited a few seconds, still smirking crudely. "Well,... I guess you knew how old he was when you got into bed with him. At that age I'm surprised he was old enough to enjoy it. But he enjoyed it, didn't he?" "Fuck you!" "Now Rick, there's no need to be vulgar about it. I expect he's still got a few years before he starts puberty. Of course, you would have known that as soon as he took his clothes off. I guess you really like your boys hairless." I shrugged. "Get to the point, damn you!" "Talk about jail-bait. I would have thought you were smart enough to find your little boy-sluts down in Mexico instead of shopping locally. What happened, Rick? Couldn't you control yourself? can't afford the airfare to Acapulco?" I sighed, half closing my eyes. It had been far too easy at the time, but I was desperate to fulfill my longing. It had been too long to go without. I thought I had been careful, very careful to make sure it wasn't a trap, but I had not been careful enough. Old habits died hard, but when the opportunity unexpectedly presented itself, I could not resist. I could never resist a beautiful boy who wanted nothing more than to be loved. It was very easy with Shelley. He did know who his father was. His mother was only a a dim memory. On reflection, it was too easy. I remembered thinking I was in love the instant I saw him. For the first time, everything fell into place. He was lonely, unloved, curious, more than willing. Just looking at him was enough to make my heart race. What happened in the hotel room was entirely mutual. At times, it even seemed as if our roles were reversed. In a way, I had been seduced by a little boy. I was unable to stop myself. The sight of his slender naked body sent me over the edge. He was prepubescent and flawless. He was beautiful and intelligent. Despite his youth, he was easily aroused. He exhibited his sexuality with few inhibitions. He was excited just as I was excited. He was so aggressively affectionate with me that it was impossible to be content to just lie in the bed with his lean hot body draped over mine and our genitals pressed together. He was not a street hustler, yet he knew what to do. I sensed his joy when he began to move, rubbing that hard hot part of him against my lower belly. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply as he shamelessly reached down and placed my penis between his thighs, clamped his legs tightly against my erection. He began moving faster, pumping our throbbing sex organs. There was no secret about his experience. Some of it was with another boy, a year or two older than he was. The rest? I closed my mind to the question and allowed him to take control. Whatever sexual activity had occurred in his past, it was more than sufficient for him to tell me what he wanted me to do to him. After only a few minutes the shameless words were whispered, and then he smiled and rolled onto his back. He held nothing back, guiding my maleness into the hot tight tube, groaning as my penis arched deeper and filled his core. I came quickly the first time, shooting my seed into him with more pleasure than I could remember in four years. The haunting memories of Manuel had finally been vanquished. That afternoon, I discovered that the slender boy was also very athletic. We made love almost continually, discovering positions that were both original and satisfying. When we finally struggled into our clothes, we were both exhausted. In retrospect, it was too good to be true. My lust triumphed over reason and restraint. Now, after years of taking great care to protect my secret, it seemed that I had made a grave mistake. "You haven't changed, Wilderstein. You're still an asshole. Is it freelance, this time or a job for the Agency?" I asked cynically. "Let's just say that it's a sponsored project. Of course, the Agency is aware I'm here, but you'll be working in a private capacity." "Meaning that the Agency wants to keep its hands clean. God, this must be bad," I mused. "Why me? Why not one of the regular outside contractors?" "Hm,... I think you know the answer to your own question. Why we aren't using an outside contractor is the same reason that the Agency wants nothing to do with it. If it sours they want to have clean hands." "It's inside the Agency then?" I posed. "No! However, in a way it's no different." "High up then?" I asked. "It sounds like it must be." "Very high! It's very serious, Rick. We need someone who has the right qualifications,... an in-depth knowledge of inside situations, and the right background. Ideally, we need someone who can move quickly and think on the fly. And especially no connection to the subject or the Agency." "I'm not your man." "You're not ideal. I know that. But you in one way you have the perfect cover because of your work down south." I shuddered, blocking the memory of four years ago. "Why don't you pick someone from outside the Agency? There are a few people I know who meet your specs. I can think of a couple at least who know as much as I do about moles, and,..." Wilderstein interrupted me abruptly. "Were it so easy as catching a mole. This is different. Let's just say that you have another unique skill that is needed for the job, Rick." "Meaning I'm expendable and they're not," I posited. "It won't come to that. At least I don't think so. This is a quick operation. In and out, and then you disappear forever." "God! It must be high. The Director?" I asked curtly even as I realized it must be someone close to the top to demand an approach that left no indication that the anything had occurred." "I wish! But you're going right direction. It's with one of our friends in the nation's capital." "If it's not inside the Agency, then it rightly belongs to the Bureau!" I retorted sarcastically. "Very funny. The Bureau is so fucked up, they can't find the way to the john. Hell, you might as well give it to Justice to screw up. It'll be just like Waco. This is in the Agency because no one else can do it, Rick. It should be quite easy! No one will suspect you. There's no problem getting in and out. There's no danger involved either. You'll be on the sideline all the time, more or less. Once it's finished you walk away and we never bother you again. Besides, this is right down your alley. It's something you ought to enjoy!" "What on earth are you talking about?" Wilderstein laughed. "You know about boys, Rick. That's all I can say over an unsecured phone. If you're interested, and I know you will be because of the photos I'm holding, I can give you an address." "Where?" "19th Street. You remember the place in Rosslyn?" "Top floor. Room 906," I sighed. I had been there only one time. The CIA had used the location for an aborted project that had started five years earlier. That failure was one of the reasons why I resigned. The boy I loved had been mutilated and two agents had been murdered at a deserted airfield in Texas. "I'll expect you at noon!" Wilderstein said before the phone clicked and went dead. However, Wilderstein had awaken memories that once initiated, could not be quelled no matter how much I tried. I could not stand to go through the same situation again. I wanted his warm body lying next to me, to feel his inquisitive fingers exploring, giving pleasure, teasing me into erection, placing me in position. I lay back in bed, wondering whether I should call Shelley to make sure he was safe. A quick glance at my watch told me he was already on his way to school. It would have to wait until 3.00 p.m. I smiled, remembering a cold afternoon in Fall, a little blond boy with sky-blue eyes and a beaming smile, and how much I had loved him after spending only a few hours together in a hotel room a few blocks off the Mall. Chapter Two. Four Months Earlier The car beside me was innocuous, yet it immediately captured my attention. Dated early eighties, it was one of the cheap sedans that were identified by Chrysler as "K" cars and were sold by the millions. It was dull gray, without any remaining polish. God only knows why I happened to look sideways. Destiny, I suppose, although I did not know at the time that fate would give me a preview of what my future held. Perhaps it was the result of being a spook, years of experience that caused suspicion to exist where there was no reasonable foundation. It was enough that I looked. The fleeting image would stay with me forever. There were five of them in the car. Two in the front, three in the back, a curious mixture of young and old, male and female, black and white. The driver was a woman in her late forties or early fifties, white hair pulled into a bun, visibly overweight. Beside her sat a dark-skinned girl, maybe in her early teens. She wore a bright-red dress. However, it was the passengers in the back seat who held my attention. Nearest to my car was a dark-skinned boy with closely cropped frizzy hair. He looked to be about fifteen, perhaps the brother of the girl in front. Next to him sat a balding young man with a neck like a bull. I glimpsed his features when he turned to look at me. I almost turned away. Although there was no immediately visible deformation, there was something about his face that was not normal. He had thick lips, a broad forehead, closely cropped hair. His cheeks had been ravaged by adolescent pimples and were pock-marked. His receding chin and thick neck were stippled with a day-old stubble. Beside him and in startling contrast, on the far side of the car was the most beautiful boy I had ever seen. In fact, at first glance I actually thought "he" was a "she". He was young, nine or ten years old at most. His hair was long, curling, and very blond. It glistened like brushed gold. He was slightly built, yet not what I would call 'skinny', not at all like the Mexican street boys I used to relieve myself. Even from a distance I appreciated that he was exactly the type of boy I had fantasized about since I was a boy myself. His head lifted up and for a fraction of a second his eyes met mine. Surprisingly, his head turned to follow me when the car he was in pulled ahead of mine. We looked at each other through the rear window of his car. He smiled momentarily, an earnest look in his eyes that conveyed an inner longing. Other boys have looked at me like that. It was a look that said, 'I know you are looking at me because I'm beautiful.' At least that was what I wanted to think, and then my view was blocked out when a brown delivery van passed between us. Behind me, an impatient driver was angrily sounding his horn. I gestured rudely and he hit the horn again both harder and longer in impotent response at being delayed. Ahead, I saw the car turning into a side street. I accelerated quickly and tried to get ahead of the delivery van, however I was already passed the corner. At the next corner I turned and drove quickly back to the previous block. They were walking along the street headed away from the Mall. When they turned into number 1951, I got a much better look and my mouth dropped open in surprise. Ten minutes later I was sitting at my desk, still dreamily thinking about the boy in the car. However, there was work to be done. It was not work that I wanted to do, although in part it was very enjoyable. There were two groups of files. One was on the floor, stacked in a pile that reached halfway to the top of my desk. There were nearly a hundred of them. The other group of three manila folders lay on my leather pad. Although the decision had been made, it was not irrevocable. I picked up the top file and reclined in my chair. I opened it, lifting out the eight-by- ten glossy. I held it in one hand while I read aloud from the bio-sheet, interpolating freely as I went. "Alan Hewer. Age 12. Born Sussex, England. So you're English, huh Alan? You're a real doll, Alan!" I mused aloud while wondering whether he was homo sexually inclined. He looked like he might be, but long ago I had discovered that appearances could be deceiving. I continued to read the material in the file, looking for further clues to his sexual disposition, as much out of curiosity as a need to confirm what I had suspected from the moment I laid eyes on the photograph. Out of the three files, he was the only one I continued to have doubts about. Several days of without masturbating had not helped my mood. "Mother, Margaret K., Father, James Roger. And I see Mr. Hewer works for CitiBank. The family came to the US in 1992. You probably no accent left by now. Pity, Alan. You look like a real cutie-pie." I continued to think and read aloud, interpreting as I went. "Previous experience: hmmm, I see you've done a few commercials for cereal. Not much in the last year except the usual mart ads in the Sunday papers." Almost all the boys had done mart ads at one time or another. They alternated among catalogs for Sears, K-mart, Walmart, and a host of other retail chains. A few of the files had even included the catalog pages, safely protected by plastic covers. Alan's mart work included the fall catalog for a national retail chain. He photographed nicely and from the beaming smile on his face, I imagined that the photographer had fun working with him. "I see you also did a milk-ad in June. With your English complexion, you certainly have the face for a milk commercial," I chuckled. I smiled. Another quick glance at the photograph. He had a very pretty face. Slightly dimpled cheeks, cheeks that looked like a rouge-blush had been applied. Button nose. Straight, blond hair. Light-blue eyes. He was angelic-looking. He was a perfect specimen of boyhood, clearly belonging in the much-preferred category. I had immediately picked him out from the hundred other boys aged between ten and twelve. On the downside, Alan Hewer was nearly at the upper age-limit, not that it was all that important for the assignment. At twelve, most boys had either started puberty, or were so close to sprouting pubic hair that my client would not derive sufficient benefit from the relationship to justify the cost. It was a pity the search to Ty's replacement had not started a year or two earlier. Based on the unproven hypothesis that Alan was gay, I would have received a large finder's fee. I put the file down and picked up the next one. With a birthday in early May, the second boy had just turned ten. 'Surfer-type', I thought as I studied the photograph of Jeffrey Montell. His hair was bleached-blond. Of course, he probably had never been near a surfboard, and not because he lived outside DC. Only a few serious models have the time to do anything except model, and from studying his file I knew that this boy was very serious, almost as serious as his doting mother. He had the face and body for a successful career, at least until he was well into puberty and the ravages of adolescent acne. Already, he had obtained a six-month contract to model jeans for a well-known clothing company. In one half-page full- color provided with the file, he looked exceptionally sexy. All he wore, were faded denim jeans. From the waist up, he was ideal. Lightly tanned, well-defined muscles, small navel and barely discernible nipples. There was only problem with Jeffrey Montrell. It had taken only one afternoon to confirm the obvious. Jeffrey was more than a homosexual in the making, he was actively seeking out sex. I smiled, imagining what his mother would do if she knew where her precious son was spending his afternoons after school. I had watched him through binoculars from inside my car. If my suspicions were correct, Jeffrey spent the best part of an hour on his back every day, doing it with the janitor of the apartment building where he lived. He was the easy solution. Except for the fact that he had more than likely been exposed to AIDS, or would be in the near future, I would have had no hesitation in getting him into my own bed for some fun and games. I turned to the third and last file. Shelley James Lawlor. In my opinion, he was the best of three. Even his name conveyed 'gay'. He was still a few months shy of ten years old, and he looked even younger. He had the face, the body, the talent, and more than likely, if my suspicions were correct, more than enough 'interest' for the job. Although I knew the details of his file by heart, I examined his biographical data for the umpteenth time, filling in the missing details with what I had gleaned by a few hours of very discreet surveillance and a credit report on his foster mother. He was born in Maryland. His mother died in a car wreck at a railway crossing when he was four years old. His father was not identified on his birth certificate. Presently, he lived with a foster family under the care of Julia Louise Harmon. She was currently unemployed, and had spent some time in drug rehabilitation. Despite her past history, she had been qualified to provide foster care for the last seven years. They lived on the east side of Washington with a ninety-two- thousand dollar-mortgage on a small stucco-and-wood-framed house, and seven thousand in unpaid credit card bills, a further indication that during the last few years, Julia, her retarded son, and the three children who lived with her had barely survived. Still, despite their dire situation, she had been able to find the money to hire a good photographer, and pay Hammerstein Modelling Inc. the hundred-dollar fee to become agents for Shelley's modelling career. The only problem was that this truly remarkable boy had never received a single modelling assignment. Shelley had not done even one mart ad. Given how attractive he was, there was probably a good reason, and I suspected the foster mother adversely affected the boy's opportunities. There were two photographs of Shelley James Lawlor. One was of his head and shoulders only. I gazed at a perfect face. He was very good-looking, so attractive that beautiful would not be an exaggeration. He had naturally blond hair. He had very big, startlingly-blue eyes. His eyes were not as pale as Alan Hewer's eyes. They were almost the color of the sky on a clear day. His eyes gave him an innocent appearance, but his lips said otherwise. They were full, red, and femininely shaped, almost begging to be kissed. His hair was long and cupped his face, the fringe coming just past his eyebrows, touching the collar of his shirt at the back. He was ideal for my client. In the other photograph, Shelley had been very carefully dressed for the right effect. If anything communicated that he was 'gay' it was that one photograph. It was almost as if he was auditioning to play the part my client had in mind for him. His clothes gave new meaning to the word 'sexy'. He was lithesome, a few inches short of five feet, probably weighing less than eighty pounds. He stood next to a bicycle, wearing a tight-fitting shirt and spandex shorts that reached to his knees. While the only bare flesh visible was his arms and legs, it was easy to fill in the rest. His body would be flawless. I smiled, wondering how he would be perceived. >From my point of view, his physique was a perfect '10', and, as an added bonus, his crotch was compact compared to most prepubertal boys. Like most boylovers, my client preferred his boys not to be over-endowed. I was no different. There was a flat lop-sided crease in his shorts to indicate both the position and approximate size of his penis. I smiled, considering how many of the one hundred files had provided a photograph of the subject with a visibly erect penis. I expected one or two, because it usually paid to advertise in this business. After more study, I estimated three inches or less, with nothing in the 'ball department' to get worried about. It would be a few more years before Shelley Lawlor was big enough for my client to lose interest. He would probably be well in his teens before he was able to come in any significant quantity and by then my client would have become bored with him. "Well, Shelley, I said you were the one the first time I laid eyes on your photo. You're the winner! I guess it's time I had a talk to your mother about your future with my boy-loving friend. If you only knew what could be in store for you over the next two or three years." I picked up the telephone and pressed "I" for "intercom". Almost instantaneously, my secretary picked up. "If Ms. Harmon is waiting, send her in," I said. "Keep the boy waiting outside until I call for him." Less than a minute passed before Shelley's foster mother was shown in. I stood, waiting until the door closed behind her. There was no question that she was an unpleasant woman. If one was inclined towards the opposite sex, Julia would quickly convert you. I walked across the room, my hand extended. "Good afternoon, Ms. Harmon," I said with a smile that gave nothing away. "I'm Rick Barrett," I said with a smile. "I work for the Holland Company. I'm doing the recruiting for the ad you're here about. We shook perfunctorily, not unexpectedly because Ms. Harmon had been told that she would be meeting the owner himself. A face-to-face meeting with Peter Hammond would come later, once the details of Shelley's 'contract' had been worked out. However, the first meeting would be a social meeting, an opportunity for my client to meet his new boyfriend. "Please sit down, Ms. Harmon," I said with a generous gesture towards the faux-Chippendale chair in front of my desk. She slid into the chair, crossed two very slender legs, and watched me sit down. I regarded her, thinking thoughts that she would not appreciate. "Ms. Harmon, you don't mind if I call you Julia, do you?" I asked. She smiled and inclined her head slightly. I took that as a 'yes'. "Well, Julia, the good news is that we have picked Shelley out from among a hundred other boys. He's a very good looking young boy." She nodded slightly and waited for me to continue. "He could compete with Aaron Carter in the looks department. He's good the right look for today's market. He has a very good chance at getting the job. However, there are two other boys we also want to audition." She beamed instantly. Without stretching the imagination, it was possible to see her mind like a cash register, then she frowned. "Audition? I thought you wanted Shelley to model for a swim wear ad." I nodded vaguely, choosing my words very carefully. It was a game I was good at playing. "The ad is only a part of what we,... what the company has in mind. It's entirely possible that the boy who we select will do more than stand in front of a camera." "Oh? I didn't realize. Hammerstein's didn't say anything at all about that." Julia studied me for a few seconds. I quickly revised my analysis of her. She was street-wise. I could smell her piqued interest. Slowly, she smiled. "Well I'm quite sure that Shelley can do whatever you want. He's been taking lessons for the last two years. He's really very good, even though he hasn't done anything in front of a camera yet,..." I nodded abruptly. Julia Harmon had a tendency to run on. "Of course there's a chance it won't work out,..." I smiled slightly. "What role Shelley gets really depends on him, on what he wants to do." "In what way?" Julia asked uncertainly. I leaned back in my chair. "Mmmm,.... well you know what they say, show business is show business. It depends upon what Shelley is prepared to do to get the part." "In what way?" Julia repeated. I heard the nervous inflexion in her voice and I suppressed a smile. There was only one reason why Shelley's full-length photograph featured an erection. "I think you know, Julia." She regarded me blankly, her eyes never leaving mine. I marked time, waiting. "Perhaps I do," she muttered. "My client is a very wealthy man and he has very particular tastes. He's rich enough to indulge those tastes," I added slyly. "I think we both agree that Shelley's a very good-looking boy. The ad is his if you're interested." I continued to watch her surreptitiously while I glanced through the notes I had placed inside Shelley's file. "I'm interested." "Good. Then what I'm about to say shouldn't come as a complete surprise. The fee is the standard rate for juveniles. We'll pay $300 an hour plus expenses. We'll arrange for the photographer and a location to be as close as possible to where you live. We want the photos taken at the beach, so there might be some travel. It might be difficult to get a time during the weekend when it isn't too crowed, so he might have to take some time of during school." "That's okay. Will your client be there?" Julia asked quickly. I looked at her, pretending surprise. "I don't imagine so. Why do you ask?" Julia reddened slightly. She swallowed, her gaze unwavering. "Well, no reason in particular,... After what you just said,... I mean, well,... personally I was just interested, you know," she said awkwardly. "He's a very busy man," I replied ambiguously. "However it might be arranged, under the right circumstances." "Which are?" I shrugged. I needed to say just enough to leave her with the obvious conclusion. "If Shelley wants to audition for the other work, it won't be an issue, Julia. My client may want to meet him,... if Shelley is who he wants." I wondered whether Julia comprehended what I had in mind by 'audition for the other work'. I was constantly surprised by how naive even highly intelligent people can be. On the intelligence scale, Julia Harmon was on the low end. However, I suspected that she was anything but naive. There was only one way to find out. "Let's cut to the chase, Julia," I said boldly. "I think you've got it pretty much figured out. My client is what is often referred to as a boy lover." "I'm not surprised," Julia said snidely. "When I got the call from your secretary,... Shelley hasn't done any professional modelling so it had to be something else." I smiled. "Does it bother you." I allowed the words to sink in. "Meaning?" I chuckled. "I think you know why you're here as well as I do, Julia. My client's attracted to prepubescent boys. You know what I'm looking for, don't you?" "And what is that?" she asked, turning stubborn. "Shelley's a boy, isn't he?" I asked softly. Her eyes remained fixed on mine. "Yes," she said quietly. Despite her apparent calm, her voice revealed a light nervousness. "Yes, he's a boy." "And he hasn't started puberty yet, has he?" "Uh,... I don't think so. I don't know for sure. I mean I,... haven't seen him, you know down there for quite a while." "Usually there are signs," I smiled. "If you change his sheets,..." "Huh? Oh! That! No he hasn't, at least none that I've noticed." "That's good. Of course, he's only ten so he would be a few years early if he had." I smiled and gestured towards her. "Okay, let me put it another way.... My client would like the opportunity to get to know him better. If everything works out, Shelley will have a a wonderful opportunity," I added deliberately. "Does it mean,..." Julia began. She hesitated, waiting for me to say what she found difficult to ask. I said nothing. She had to face her own dilemma. There was no easy way. "Sex?" she said finally. She smiled slightly. I was surprised how candid she was being. "Will Shelley have to have sex with him?" she repeated. "That's entirely up to Shelley. It's his choice,... and your's too in a way,... You are his legal guardian, aren't you?" "Shelley isn't a whore, Mr. Barrett," she retorted. I interlaced my fingers together, lapping my thumbs. I regarded her curiously. "If he was a whore, you wouldn't be here," I said after a few seconds. "My client is a boy lover, Julia. The emphasis is on both words, boy and love! He's not interested in just any kid, especially not a boy who sees his ass for peanuts." "Meaning he's rich enough to get whatever he wants," Julia said sarcastically. "He doesn't have to cruise the streets looking for boys, if that's what you're getting at. He's interested in having a long- term friendship with a young boy. If you're worried about Shelley having sex, we can leave it at the photo shoot and nothing more," I said pleasantly. "But sex is involved, isn't it?" "Right now, like I said, my client's interested in having Shelley for a friend, that's all!" I smiled slightly, enough to convey the ambiguity of what that friendship would entail. "If Shelley's interested in more than friendship,... well like I said, that's entirely his decision." I waited for several seconds, watching her reaction. I knew she needed the money that Shelley's relationship with a man like my client could provide. She was fast running out of the small amount of money she received in welfare. "What are you, his procurer?" Julia demanded bitterly. "How do you sleep at night?" Again I shrugged. "It's a job. I work for him, okay. However, I'm a boy lover myself so I can understand his desires." I breathed deeply. "I think we both know what's in Shelley's best interests might not be socially acceptable," I said. "However, if it's what Shelley wants and nobody else knows about it,... is it really that terrible?" "Socially acceptable?" she snorted. "You're talking about a grown man screwing an ten-year-old boy in the ass. It's wrong! Hell, it's against the law." "Those are your words, Julia, not mine. My client's only interested in being Shelley's friend," I repeated blandly. I was beginning to wonder whether I had made the wrong choice. "If Shelley's gay,... and some boys are, you know, even at his age, perhaps that changes things a bit. It may be against the law, but it's not as wrong as people make it out to be." "I know that,... I just don't know about Shelley," Julia answered uncertainly. She was very predictable. When all was said and done, it would come down to money. Until then, there was a game to be played. "Don't you?" "Maybe he is, maybe he isn't." "Just maybe?" I queried. Julia shrugged vaguely. "Okay. I know some boys are that way." "Shelley's already started down that path anyway, hasn't he?" I smiled again, observing her nostrils flare out with anger when she realized my amusement. Julia stared at me, her mouth open for a few long seconds. "How? How do you know about that? It doesn't prove anything," she added adamantly. "Let's just say that I've done my homework. Are you sure it doesn't confirm what you already suspect," I queried. As far as I knew it was only one time, yet my intuition told me it had to be more often. Two weeks earlier Shelley had allowed the older boy, the African-American teenager who Shelley called Cal, to masturbate him in the shed behind the house. It was just after dark when the two boys entered. They were together for nearly fifteen minutes. That I indirectly witnessed the momentous event from my car using a remote microphone in a well-concealed hiding place (a rusted watering can), was sufficient to confirm the boy's sexual orientation had developed far enough to include other boys. To my ears, it had sounded as if it was not Shelley's first time with Cal. Certainly the younger boy showed no repugnance at being asked to perform oral sex. From the sound of it, Shelley had his mouth full, yet there was enough noise to tell me that he enjoyed doing what he did. The older boy's groan of ecstasy and long silence that followed gave me the impression that Shelley also had no qualms swallowing the older boy's semen when it finally spurted out. Julia reddened, unable to answer with any degree of confidence. "I don't know what you think you know, but,... if he is queer,..." she began uncomfortably. "Well if he does,... what you're talking about,... well it might not be so bad,..." With impending victory, I steepled my fingers, pressing my thumbs and moving them slowly back and forth. "My client is a very understanding person, Julia. He'll be able to give Shelley all the affection he needs." "Shelley's different. He can be a very affectionate boy, Mr. Barrett." I was suddenly tired of playing games with her. I thought of the beautiful boy outside my office, of the obscenity we were talking. I thought about what it would mean for him. "You want to know what's in it for you?" I interrupted. Julia nodded slightly. "Shelley's not even ten yet." She hesitated, scratching her chin thoughtfully. "If this man you're talking about,... if he wants to have sex with Shelley it could hurt him. I have to know if it would be worth it." That Shelley depended on the woman was sufficient to remove my smirk of smug satisfaction that I had identified her for what she was. "Let's just say it'll be worth your while. I'd rather talk about what's in it for Shelley. My client is in a position that allows him to take very good care of his young friends, Julia." "That's not enough," she returned swiftly. Her anxiety was beginning to wear her down. "You're unemployed at the moment, aren't you Julia?" I did not wait for her to answer. "I'm sure keeping three kids and your own son on three hundred bucks a week is very difficult for you. What with all the bills for them, and the mortgage payments,... I know child support is nowhere near enough," I allowed my voice to sound sympathetic. "It doesn't have to be that way. Shelley's a beautiful boy, Julia. He should take advantage of what he has. Depending on what you want for him, he can also be a very lucky boy," I added cautiously. "How much do I get?" she said flatly. The time had come for serious negotiation. She left no doubt about what she was after. "Under the right circumstances, I'm prepared to make you a very generous offer, Julia." "What sort of offer?" "Hm, well depending of what Shelley is prepared to do with my client, and assuming the relationship becomes ongoing, you would start to work for a company called Sinclair Inc. It's a small company." I smiled ambiguously. Sinclair Inc. was a real estate management company that my client had set up to manage some properties that he preferred his wife not know about. "It will be something of a unique position, Julia. The job will pay the same salary you had in your last job, which was a few years ago, wasn't it?" "Yes!" "Okay, that's $35,300 a year, to be exact. You'll be able to work entirely from your home. My client understands that your foster family comes first. And if you want to do other work, of course there will be a lot of time to do it." Julia half-closed her eyes thoughtfully considering the offer of receiving money without any work involved. I was offering her thirty-five thousand dollars a year and all she had to do was put the checks in the bank. After a few seconds she looked at me. There was no longer any guile in her eyes. She had risen to the bait and found it to her liking. "After tax? I don't want to go off welfare. It's very expensive living in this city." "I'm sure it is. Payments could be made in cash, I suppose." She sat very still. "If I say yes, then,... what about,...?" "There's more," I interrupted impatiently. "Each year that Shelley and my client are, well,... let's just say they'll be close friends,... Each year you'll receive a $10,000 Christmas bonus, in cash of course. Oh, and one more thing. Shelley will be enrolled in a small, private school in DC. It's only a few blocks from here, and it's close to where my client lives. Of course, he'll get special gifts as well, depending on what he does and how good he does it." Julia nodded absently. Her smile indicated that she understood exactly what was being offered and what was expected in return. "It's not very much,... considering,... what's involved." "We're not talking about a pittance, Julia. My advice is to take it. We're talking about a hundred thousand or more in cash. In a few years Shelley will be teenager. He probably won't last longer than fourteen in this line of work. The demand is like that. If he's very lucky he might go all the way to fifteen or sixteen before men like my client lose interest in him. There's not much interest in pimply teenagers." "So I,... I mean we should take advantage now. Is that what you're saying?" Julia acknowledged. "More or less. There will be other rewards along the way, of course. Shelley will always benefit from his friendship with my client, even if it only lasts a year or two. He'll meet people who could be very important to his career. Just being around a man like my client is a great opportunity for a boy like Shelley." "Shel's almost ten and,... well I know he won't be young forever. You said this man only liked boys before puberty. At fourteen or fifteen he could almost be a man." "That's true. Let's not worry about when Shelley starts puberty until we see if it works out," I answered vaguely. "I'm sure it's still a couple of years away still." "I guess,... It's just the price is a bit high, that's all. I mean,... well I'm sure you know what I mean," Julia said. She gave me an uncertain smile, that while it did not say she was rejecting my proposition, she was having second thoughts. Perhaps she thought she could demand more money for herself. Clearly she had very little interest in Shelley's welfare. I smiled back at her. "That rather depends on your perspective, doesn't it?" "What do you mean?" "For one thing, for the right boy, it might even be the ideal opportunity to meet someone he'll like. It would be a pity to waste the opportunity, Julia. You could change both your's and Shelley's lives for the better, if you wanted to. Forty-five thousand a year is pretty good money for doing nothing." Julia inclined her head. "And you think Shelley is the right boy?" "Is he?" I challenged. "You know him better than anyone else." I paused, giving her time to consider what she knew about him. This had to be her decision as much as Shelley's. She shrugged, suddenly very confident as she realized that she was going to take full advantage of the fact that Shelley was a budding homosexual. "I'm sure he is. I've found messin' around with my Ronnie. It's pretty obvious what he likes," she admitted slyly. "'Messing around' could mean lots of things," I suggested gently. Still, I sat up and leaned forward with interest. Ronnie? Julia's retarded son, Ronald, was in his mid twenties. The possibility of Shelley's involvement with him was something I had completely overlooked. However, it wasn't necessarily bad news as far as my client was concerned. If a boy had some experience with an older male, he was more than likely to be interested in relationships with other men. I wondered what she intended by "messin' around. "I already know what it means, Mr. Barrett. It means he's gay! I've known for some time. You only have to look at him to know. The boy's queer alright. I've seen the way he looks at them." "You mean men?" "Of course I mean men. He doesn't look at girls that's for sure. You can see it in his eyes. It's like part of him is female. God! I can't believe I'm saying this. Maybe if he hadn't stayed with us,... It's unnatural. Doing stuff with Cal was one thing. I could ignore that. Boys,... well they get like that, don't they?" "Some boys can be sexually active at a very young age," I commented. "It doesn't necessarily make them gay." "Maybe if he and Ronnie hadn't started doing things,..." I nodded understandingly, yet very curious. The image of the two of them together was depressing at the same time as it was strangely exciting. The beautiful pre-teen boy and the retarded, overweight man. What could they do together? The thought ricochetted through my brain, firing memories of a little brown-skinned Mexican boy who sucked like a vacuum cleaner and had a rectum of about the same diameter. "What happened with Ronnie?" I ventured. It was hard to keep my voice under control. "Ronnie's not all there, you understand. He's retarded, but he's still interested in sex, only not with women, you understand. He,... He plays with Shelley sometimes," Julia admitted. "He plays with Shelley? Could you be more explicit?" "If you must know,..." "It might be important," I said vaguely. "It's his doing. Ronnie wouldn't do that, not unless,... He gets my Ronnie to play with him. At night, mostly." "Mostly?" I queried. "I've found them together at other times, too." I watched her face. "Have they had sex?" She shrugged nonchalantly. "When the door's closed, Mr. Barrett, who knows what goes on inside a room?" "Is Shelley a virgin?" I asked bluntly. It really did not matter to my client whether the boy was a virgin. However, for some reason it mattered to me. "How in the hell am I supposed to know that. I don't sit there and watch 'em for God's sake. I just know he goes into Ronnie's room at night and he don't come out for an hour or more. Sometimes he's in there until the next morning. How can you tell if a boy's done it? It's not like there's a hymen in his ass." I hated her. I knew she was lying. She knew exactly what happened in Ronnie's bedroom at night. She had no conscience. I had an unpleasant feeling of foreboding. Not only did I distrust her, but I knew she had few if any scruples. I would have no hesitation in reporting her to the authorities if it did not mean that Shelley would be taken from her. I realized then, that I was no better than she was. "The usual sign is blood on the sheets," I answered with revulsion. She smirked. "For boys as well as girls?" "Some bleeding from a boy's anus is not unusual, particularly if the man isn't careful or if he rushes things," I explained. She shrugged, unwilling to accept any responsibility. "Whatever! I warned Shelley, okay? I told him to be careful around Ronnie. I know Ronnie could hurt him if they that did that. He's big, you know what I mean. Anyway, It's not like Ronnie forces him to do anything. The boy's certainly not reluctant to go into Ronnie's room. He goes in there because he wants to." "I understand. Like I said, some boys are like that, Julia. It's not Shelley's fault. It's rather like flipping a coin. Mostly it comes down straight but every so often a boy turns out to be gay. He can't help it." "A coin flip?" Julia smiled. "And a boy likes men instead of girls." "Something like that. The important thing is how we can help him deal with it. And I don't mean letting Ronnie screw his ass," I added quickly. "Then what?" Julia demanded impatiently. My fingers tented and pointed to the ceiling, prayer-like. "It might sound naive, but I how important it is for Shelley to know that he's loved. It's particularly important for a gay boy because he can have sexual needs that are overpowering at the same time he's rejected by his friends. Frankly, I'm not surprised he's been going into Ronnie's bedroom." "You make it sound personal," Julia commented. I nodded. "It is personal! I was twelve when I started, Julia." I leaned back in my chair. "I can still remember everything that happened. He was my next door neighbor. He was twenty-three and just starting graduate school. In my own way, I loved him, and at the time I thought he loved me back. It was physical, right from the get-go. It started when he took me to an evening baseball game downtown. We didn't stay for the game to end. He took me to a park over by Winthrop. By the time I got back home about ten p.m. my ass was a bloody mess and I was addicted. We had sex every afternoon when I came home from school. Only there was one problem. He really didn't love me." Julia regarded me silently. For the first time since she had entered my office, I felt her sincerity. There was an strange understanding between us. "I gave him my innocence, Julia." "I can imagine." "We did everything," I said flatly. "At twelve?" "Yes. I guess I started enjoying it after the first month. It's like that for a boy, you know. It hurts pretty badly when you start, for the first few times at least, and then it slowly stops hurting. After a while it starts feeling good, so good that words can't describe it. It wasn't something that I wanted to stop." "What happened?" she asked awkwardly. "I had been doing stuff with him for about two months when I told him I loved him. I was dumb enough to ask whether he loved me back. We were having sex at the time and he didn't answer. I thought he hadn't heard so I asked again. He told me to shut up." I shrugged. "When I tried to ask again, he put his hand over my mouth and kept on fucking me. I can't tell you how bad I felt. I wanted him to love me so badly that it hurt inside." "I'm sorry," she said without feeling. I smiled absently. "I couldn't stop doing it. It didn't last more than a year. was a reject at thirteen," I said. "I had pubic hair and everything else that goes along with puberty. I guess he lost interest in me. However, it doesn't have to be like that. My client will see to it that Shelley doesn't go though the same thing." "It sounds like you ought to keep Shelley for yourself," Julia reflected softly. If,... if I said yes, what happens?" she added awkwardly. "I don't think I could talk to Shelley. Not about this." I nodded sagely. 'You wouldn't have to, Julia. I'll talk with him right now. I'd like to have you wait outside while I do. It'll take a while." Julia sighed. "You know I've worried about him for so long. I know he's safe with Cal, and Ronnie too, even if he's retarded. It might hurt him, but he's still safe with him. You hear stories, you know, about men who pick up kids in the toilets, or boys selling themselves in the malls and elsewhere. I don't want that for Shelley." "Neither do I. And it won't happen. My client will be a friend for him. It'll start with Shelley modelling some swim-wear. If that goes okay, then he'd like to photograph Shelley in the nude. And it that works out then Shelley will stay at his house for a night. It'll be bit like a sleep-over, only he'll be sleeping with a man instead of a boy," I added with dry humor. "They'll sleep together?" "Only if Shelley wants to. Otherwise, separate beds, or even separate rooms if he's uncomfortable with having the man that close to him." "And if nothing happens? What then?" Julia asked. "He'll have done an ad for some swim wear? Big thrill!" "In addition to the swim wear, there'll be a cash payment to you of a thousand dollars if Shelley poses nude for him. You can double or triple that depending on what happens during the first night. If it works out, the payments will be made every month. Whatever happens, you can take my word for it that you'll be well paid. Maybe Shelley will even have a good time." "I'm sure," Julia said cynically. "And so will your client." "I won't deny it," I laughed. "I wouldn't mind having a sleep-over with Shelley either. However, I don't have my client's money. I couldn't afford to keep him more than a few months." Julia stood up and started to walk towards the door. Halfway across the Persian Tabriz rug, she stopped and turned around. "I not sure that money is all that important sometimes." She hesitated as if she was considering saying something else. A moment later she added, "Should I tell Shelley to come in now?" "Please do," I replied. "This will take a while I expect. If you want something to drink while you wait, don't hesitate to ask my secretary." I waited for about two minutes before the door opened again. He was even better-looking than I remembered, much more attractive than the two photographs showed. For the a few moments that he glanced around the room, I could not take my eyes off him. I sighed. To my jaded eyes, Shelley was far, far beyond the only word I could think of. A single word, 'beautiful' could not even begin to capture my first impressions, and a plethora of adjectives failed miserably. He was radiant. He was natural. His hair was shining. He was incredibly sexy. He smiled uncertainly, and I slowly became aware that I had been staring fixedly at him with disconcerting infatuation. Except Manuel, I had never had the problem with other boys. I trembled with excitement. "Uh hi!" I muttered selfconsciously. "You must be Shelley?" He nodded, his only affirmation beyond a shy smile. "Well, Shelley, come on over here," I gestured. He walked hesitantly across the room until he stood before my desk. In person and close up, he was even more beautiful. For the first time in eight years, I was entranced. His large eyes were startling in their innocence, and enhanced to the point of femininity by his delicately thin eyebrows and long lashes. He had full, very kissable red lips, a little reminiscent of Macaulley Culkin, yet the resemblance to Aaron Carter was even stronger. "I see you're not wearing your bike pants this time," I remarked casually. His eyes darted down momentarily before he looked up to meet my gaze. After a second or two he smiled uncertainly. "Uh,... no I'm not," he admitted quietly. He sounded uncertain, not frightened. "Well, you're still a very sexy boy, even without them," I continued softly. I watched carefully and was not surprised to see Shelley redden visibly, yet he continued to meet my eyes steadily. "You have a very nice body," I added. "You're well built." "I sorta watch what I eat so I stay skinny," Shelley said meekly. He swallowed, then deliberately licked his bottom lip thoughtfully. "It always pays to advertise," I smiled. "Still, I'm surprised Julia let you pose like that." "Like what?" Shelley asked with pretended innocence. I smiled again. "With a stiff dick." I watched for his reaction. Instead of surprise or anger, he merely shrugged and glanced down at the floor. He slowly looked up at me with his clear-blue eyes. He looked innocent until he smiled at me. "I wasn't my idea, okay. Anyway, it happens all the time," he replied flatly. "I can't help it." "Yes, I'm sure it does, though I bet it needs some help at times too?" I teased lightly. He smiled again, becoming increasingly at ease. "Sometimes." I winked and stepped back. I regarded him with growing curiosity. Shelley was studying me at the same time. "Like now?" I asked softly. He seemed about to reply, but he hesitated, spontaneously glancing down to confirm whether I was teasing him. There was a definite bulge in his crotch, but it was no bigger than when he first walked into the room. He pondered his answer, apparently as confused as I was whether 'yes' meant that he needed help, or whether he was already erect. He resorted to ambiguity. "Maybe," he ventured. Only Shelley knew the true state of his male organ. I found myself liking him more and more. He was radiant, conveying intelligence and boundless energy. It was time to change the topic. "Well,... as you probably know by now I work for a company who wants a good looking boy like you to model some swim wear for them," I began. "And you've been selected from a number of applicants. The question is whether you'd mind wearing a small Speedo in front of a camera?" "No. It'd be okay. Is this like an audition or something?" Shelley asked. "Because I'm not really dressed for it." I shook my head. "Not really. Even with your clothes on I can see you certainly have a very nice body so that isn't a question. It's more like a pre-meeting to see if you'd be interested." I emphasized the last word deliberately. "Interested? In what? Um,... I mean,... who wouldn't be?" Shelley said anxiously. "Well, it really depends on you," I answered directly. "What are you interested in?" "I don't understand." I smiled. Shelley was very nervous and it made me like him even more.He shifted his weight from foot to foot like a frightened deer ready to run at the slightest hint of danger. He was adorable. "You're a very good looking boy," I said softly. "I bet you've heard that a lot before, haven't you?" "Er,.... s-s-sometimes," Shelley admitted. "My teacher, Ms. Mills, she's said it once or twice." "You've heard it from men before, too I bet," I added patiently. "S-s-sometimes," he stammered. "It's embarrassing, huh?" "Yeah, a bit." I nodded reassuringly. "When a boy is as good-looking as you are, and he's very sexy as well, he's sure to get a lot of attention." "I s'pose so." "Does it bother you?" "Kinda." He blinked. He took a deep breath. He swallowed. His hand brushed quickly at his long locks. His lips compressed like he wanted to say something but was afraid to say it. "Some boys aren't bothered when men show interest in them," I continued. He shifted uneasily. "They like the attention. It makes them feel good inside." "I guess," Shelley ventured. "It's okay, I s'pose." "You don't mind then?" "uh, not really. It's just, well, it kind of makes me feel funny." "Funny? Why?" "Don't know. I guess 'cause I know it's wrong." "Wrong?" "Because." "Just because?" "Yeah." "Because it might mean that you're gay?" Shelley started. He glanced at me awkwardly, then looked away to stare down at the floor below him. I had the answer I wanted. He knew he was attracted to his own sex. He was old enough to know it meant that he was gay. He was not ready to admit it openly. "Being gay is not wrong, you know Shelley," I said. "I'm gay too. Although I usually don't go around telling people I am, I'm not ashamed about it." "Yeah? You don't go to my school, that's for sure." "Well, I've always figured that if no one knows, there's not a problem." "The kids at my school make fun of them, and me too sometimes, because of how I look, I guess." "Well, you are very good looking. Maybe they're just jealous of you." His eyebrows lifted slightly with increased interest. "You really think I'm good looking?" "I said so, didn't I, Shelley? You could be a movie star." "Yeah, I know. Some of the kids at school say I look like that Carter kid on tv." "They're absolutely right. I hope you know I meant it. I think you're very good looking." He smiled uncertainly, finally accepting the compliment. "Okay." "Do you know why you're here?" I asked. "Because of the swim wear ad, I guess?" "Yes, partly you're here for that. Your foster mother and I talked about that. You're going to model for them. We'll do the photography for the ad probably next week. My client isn't all that interested in seeing you in a swimming costume though," I hinted. "Then what?" Shelley tensed. It was as if a sudden surge of excitement ran though him, as if he knew what was coming. "He'd mostly like to have you photographed out of the costume." "You mean naked, don't you?" "Yes." "I guess it would be okay," Shelley wavered. "Would anyone else be there?" I shrugged. "He'll take the photos himself I expect. So, to answer your question, probably not." "Um,... well like what would I have to do, besides do model poses that is?" I shrugged. "Whatever you wanted to do. Only you'd do it with your clothes off, that's all." "He wouldn't force me to do things I didn't want to do?" I shook my head, wondering what had prompted the question. He seemed to expect that he would be used sexually. "You'd do nothing you didn't want to do." "It's okay, I guess," Shelley said slowly. "It depends." I sat forward in my chair and studied the boy's face. He was exceedingly attractive, far too handsome a specimen of boyhood for the man I was working for. He was nearly sixty, and in my mind he was too old to appreciate the boy's awe inspiring beauty. "It depends on what?" I asked gently. He bit his bottom thoughtfully. He shrugged. "Do I have to do sex stuff?" he asked with an innocent voice. "Only if you want to. This man likes boys, Shelley. Do you know what that means?" "I guess so. He likes to have sex with them." His explanation left a lot to be desired, but it showed that the ten-year-old had the right idea. I put one leg across the other and leaned back in my chair. I tried to appear relaxed, yet at the same time my mind was filled with a jumble of thoughts, most of which were about keeping Shelley for myself. The more I looked at him, the more difficult it became not to blurt out that I loved him. "Does that bother you?" He looked up at me shyly. "I think I'd like doing it with the right person," he volunteered. He looked directly at me, his eyes questioning as he waited for a response. "Have you, er, done it before?" I asked, deliberately leaving whatever "it" was to Shelley's imagination. Shelley nodded. "Do you want to tell me about it?" he shrugged. "Where I live,... with Julia, all the kids do stuff. I've done it with Cal, only a few times. He's a black kid who's a couple of years older than me. Mostly I do it with Robbie, that's her real son. She even got me to do it once with Linette." "A girl?" I asked with a smile. He shrugged. "Linette's the black girl who lives with us. She 'bout twelve I guess, only she's not that much bigger than I am." "What did you do?" I asked playfully. Shelley grinned. "Nothing much. Mostly she's with Julia, y' know. They sleep in the same room and all. I guess she wasn't that interested in me." "Neither were you, am I right?" "I guess." At that point, my mind was made up. My client was going to meet Alan Hewer. He would not know the difference. He'd be as entranced by the boy's English accent as much as his splendid young body. I had no doubts that both of them would be happy. He would never know about Shelley Lawlor. I concealed my smile and picked up the telephone to place the call that would start the process all over again. While the telephone rang in the office outside, I made plans for how to get Shelley Lawlor by himself.