(by Edward Zeusgany and Alex Anders, © copyright 1999, all rights reserved)

It was Charles’ ninth grade English teacher who assigned him his first research paper, and it was that assignment that brought him to the public library. He had been there before, of course, but not to spend any where near as much time. Arriving directly after school, he noticed that quite a few boys, a year or two younger than himself, would appear over the course of the afternoon. Charles observed that, for the most part, they were not the athletic types and some were both effeminate and pretty, his favorite. What he didn’t know was how to meet them. Everyone was supposed to be busy and quiet.

Charles put more effort into that paper than anything he had ever done before. His teacher was impressed and he received an A- grade. It would have been an A except for some spelling mistakes. Although the assignment was over, Charles had no intention of leaving the library. He did most of his studying there, finding supplementary materials with the help of the librarians, who came to know him and to like him. He was polite, thanked the women for their assistance, and had an engaging smile.

One day, he casually revealed to the reference librarian the beginnings of an interest in the field of library science. Almost as if talking to himself, he said, “Being a librarian might be interesting work.” It was an aside, but the reaction was immediate.

“You could start by becoming a volunteer,” she suggested.

“A volunteer,” Charles repeated.

“Yes. The library has volunteers. For example, you could help some of the younger children find what they need. You’re here anyway. You’d find out if you really wanted to become a librarian, and you’d learn a surprising lot along the way.”

Charles said that he would think it over. That was just so he wouldn’t appear over eager, he knew at once that he was going to do it.

*****

The librarians would send kids over to him, but he took it upon himself to see if he could be of any assistance to certain youngsters of his choice. Being nice boys, they were friendly and welcomed a helping hand. Now kids of this age touch each other frequently and think nothing of it, a practice that diminishes with time. Upon graduating from high school, touching among most men in Anglo societies is limited to manly expressions occasioned by success in sport or shaking hands. The transition is quite gradual at first.

A boy would hardly notice that the little finger of Charles’ hand on his shoulder happened to fall inside the shirt collar and gently touch the youngster’s smooth and tender neck. If the finger tip then moved at all, it was thought to be an inadvertent twitch. Of course, a boy who wanted affection would become aware of this at some level. His smile would reflect a complicity the lad would not know how to verbalize, or there would be a heartening reciprocal touch. Charles became expert at reading these signs; returning where encouragement was given, withdrawing from subtle rebuff.

When he thought that there was mutual regard and a sufficient level of trust between them, Charles would suggest a meeting outside of the library, perhaps to continue work on the project or just for fun. Music was a possible point of connection, since Charles played the piano. But Charles was prepared to undertake any activity that would arouse the lad’s interest.

Charles’ room at home provided sufficient privacy for the initial stages of a relationship. His parents seldom visited it, and never without notice. They felt no need to check up on him because he had never been in any trouble. His grades were good and improving. He kept his room neat and did his own laundry. Being an only child, there were times when he had the house to himself. Sometimes, the abode of his friend of the moment was suitable.

His next steps were learned by observing his straight classmates, who performed openly for his edification. Mild teasing and complements on personal appearance were the primary ingredients of a successful campaign. Admiring a person’s hair or clothes legitimized the touching of that same hair or clothing. This tended to initiate a condition of intimacy that could later be exercised as if it were a right. Hopefully, the object of one’s desire would respond with giggling acceptance and later with a feeling of belonging and a desire to be possessed.

One boy, who Charles brought to his room, had a face full of freckles that made him chuckle. This fell into the mild teasing category.

“You’re laughing at my freckles,” the youngster accused him.

“Yes,” Charles admitted.

“I hate them,” the boy asserted.

“I love them,” Charles insisted. Using his index finger, Charles pushed the collar of the lad’s shirt a little to the right and looked intently at the exposed skin. “Do you have them all over?” he queried, saucily.

“Yes!” the kid said, grabbing Bill’s hand with both of his and laughing.

“That’s funny,” Charles observed, “you don’t like them and I do. I guess you were made for me.” Charles looked at the boy gleefully while they sat on the edge of the bed holding hands. Sometime later, Charles found out that the lad did have freckles everywhere, even on the bottoms of his feet and between his toes.

*****

Being kids, the idea of staying together always never entered either boy’s head. Each went on to other relationships of various natures and duration. They remained friends and frequently compared notes until Charles went on to college.

Because Charles started out being attracted to boys a year or so younger than himself he had the idea that this would never change. For a while it didn’t. When he was a senior in high school he had a friend who was sixteen and in the junior class. And he didn’t seek out junior high boys any more, not that he didn’t find some quite attractive. At that time his favorite age was fifteen, when boys were at their most charming, in his opinion, and sexually potent.

Charles was surprised when, all through college, fifteen remained the center of his range of preference. That’s life, he thought, and proceeded to try to enjoy it. Visiting the centers of nearby towns he would sometimes see a lad hanging about with nothing to do. “What’s happening,” he’d ask. Nothings happening, would be the reply. Charles would propose an activity and they’d find a suitably private location.

His first position after college was as an assistant librarian in Leominister. There he met Robbie, who was a high school senior but looked and acted younger. Charles was in thrall with the cute and vivacious youngster. The feeling was shared, so when Robbie was admitted to Brandies for the following year Charles applied for and obtained a position at the University. They lived together in Charles’ apartment.

*****

During Robbie’s sophomore year, he met a cute, little, French Canadian student named Claude, with whom Robbie openly had an affair. Charles’ boy had a boy of his own. He was disconcerted however much he said that it didn’t bother him. But, in time, Claude drifted off. They each had several adventures on their own while they continued to live together. At least once a year they considered separating.

They had a big party to celebrate their twenty fifth anniversary, contacting friends who had known them at the beginning, some of whom they hadn’t seen in many years. Everyone contributed a little story to a collection of remembrances. Looking back, it is obvious that they have shared their lives principally with each other. Neither of them would willingly give that up, nor the new experiences they hope to enjoy well into old age.

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