(by Edward Zeusgany, copyright 2001, all rights reserved)

Alan’s recently departed lover, left not dead, had gotten him interested in antiques by dragging him to auctions. True, his parents had owned a few antiques and his father had been in the business for a short while with Alan’s great grandfather, but he had not gotten the bug from them. He might have inherited a predisposition, he supposed.

Alan bought a few things. These few led to more. After he was awarded tenure at Smith College, he purchased a period colonial house in Hatfield. Three years later, Alan opened an antique shop that he operated weekends and during the summer. He joined the Pioneer Valley Antique Dealers association and participated in their annual spring show. The previous year he had help, but he did the 1985 show alone.

That next summer, he was not sure that he wanted to continue the business. He wasn’t sure of much of anything. He often felt depressed. Some days he did not bother to turn the sign from “closed,” to “open.”

It was on one of those days when he heard a knock on the door at about two in the afternoon. A kid was standing there, a youth of about sixteen. Alan nearly didn’t recognized him, the youngster had grown so much. The boy had first appeared at his shop two summers ago. Alan recalled that the lad lived with his divorced mother in Georgia and had been in Hatfield on a visit to his father. He also remembered the youngster for being bright and pleasant. They had had a pleasant talk the previous time that the teenager had stopped by, so Alan invited him in.

After looking at the items for sale in the room that Alan used for the business, the kid started to walk into one of the private rooms. On the infrequent occasions when customers would to this, Alan would tell them that there was nothing else for sale, but this time he did not. Alan was amused by the boy’s presumption and he was enjoying the visit. He didn’t want it to end so soon. Instead he said, “Would you like to see the antiques that I keep for myself?”

The youth indicated that he would, and took this opportunity to introduce himself. His name was Charles. Charles was about 5 feet 7 inches in height, had sandy, short straight hair, blue eyes, and a face more long than round. His build was slight. He was attractive, but it was his personality that was most appealing. Charles had a keen intellect and was interested in everything around him. He seemed to be very open in his communication, really engaged in the conversation, listening carefully and contributing meaningfully.

As they went through the house, Alan pointed out various objects of interest and told Charles about them. He also interspersed questions to Charles about what he liked at school, where the thought he might go to college. Charles asked about some of the more unusual objects he observed. It was clear that he knew little about antiques.

When they were in one of the upstairs bedrooms, Charles startled Alan with some personal questions. “Are you married?”

“No,” Alan responded.

“Did you ever consider getting married?”

“No, I never did.”

“Sometimes I feel that way myself.”

Alan just smiled, not knowing how to react.

The boy continued. “I even went to Times Square once, but no one asked me for anything.”

Alan stopped smiling. He sat down on the edge of the bed and said, “Come here and sit down.” Charles did as was suggested.

“What do you know about AIDS?” Alan asked him.

“Not much. I wasn’t really asking for a lesson.”

Alan took the kid’s hand and continued. “I know. do you mind terribly, if I give you one anyway? It’s important that you know about it.”

The boy sighed, “OK.”

“The most important thing,” Alan said, “is that it is always fatal, and generally a very unpleasant way to die. You get the disease by taking sperm into your body. Using a condom, a rubber is safer, but condoms sometimes break.”

Charles interrupted, “Do you have AIDS?”

“I don’t think so, but I don’t know for sure.”

“Why don’t you get tested?”

“There is a chance of a false result, either a false positive or a false negative. Either way the test comes out, you still need to practice safe sex. You can’t be absolutely sure that you don’t have it, and you surely can’t be positive that the person you’re with doesn’t have it.”

“I can’t have AIDS, I’ve never done anything.”

“I believe you, but I wouldn’t want you to trust someone else, if they said that to you.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re talking about life and death, not a little infection that can be taken care of with a few shots.”

“Then you can’t have any fun anymore?”

“You can’t have as much fun, maybe, but there are still things to do.”

“Like what?”

“You can use your hands.”

“What do you mean?”

“You can masturbate your partner. Touching and kissing are OK, too.”

“Is that all?”

“No, it is possible to put your dick between your partner’s legs.” Alan indicated on his own body the spot just below the crotch. “Here. You can do it from the front or the back. A little lubrication is a good idea.”

“Lubrication?”

“Skin lotion.”

“Why?”

“Reduces the friction, makes it easier.”

“And you can’t get AIDS that way?”

“As long as you don’t have a cut or burn. A break in the skin could allow the virus to enter.”

“I suppose this means you wont have sex with me,” Charles said.

“Would you like me to take your clothes off?”

“Safe sex only?” Charles smiled.

“Of course.”

“Yes, I would.”

Alan knew that the only reason this kid would be interested in a dumpy middle aged man like himself, was that he was sex starved. God bless the American suburbs. Alan took off Charles’ shoes and socks. He touched the boy’s feet. They were nice feet, elegantly formed. Male feet are often blocky, lumpy, callused things; but Charles’ were lovely.

The man unbuttoned the teenager’s preppie shirt, pulled the tail out of his pants, pushed the fabric back from his shoulders and slid it down his arms. Charles was wearing a T-shirt underneath. He felt each of the youngster’s arms. There was little muscular development, the skin wonderfully smooth.

There was an awkward moment, when Charles’ undershirt got hung up around his head and ears. When that had been remedied, Alan took his time caressing the kid’s upper body. There was so much to explore.

They stood up. Alan unbuckled the belt, unzipped the fly, and lowered the teenager’s pants. A hard on of appropriate size was evident in Charles’ briefs. Leaving that for later, Alan removed the trousers from around the kid’s ankles, and lay them on the bed with the rest of his clothing. He examined the youth’s legs with the same thoroughness that he had previously displayed.

Then Alan moved close to Charles and put his arms around the youngster’s body, pressing the boy to him. His hands moved down over the small of the youth’s back. Taking the waist band of the briefs in his fingers, Alan pushed it down, exposing the twin mounds of Charles’ backside. In the front, the band slipped down, the cotton material forming a little pouch. Alan fondled the delicious globes to the rear.

Releasing the boy, Alan moved around to Charles’ back, and hugged him again. He touched the youth’s hips and again sought out the elastic waist band. He took it in his hands and pushed it forward, in order to free the kid’s dick. It sprang forward when released. Alan moved the cloth down the length of Charles’ thighs, until the underpants were no longer caught up, letting them drop to the teenager’s ankles. Holding the soft balls in one hand and the youth’s erection in the other, Alan squeezed both gently, then the stiff rod more firmly. Then he let go.

“Shall we pause for a while?” Alan asked.

“Why?”

“If I do it now, it will be over. If we wait, it will prolong the feelings. How do you feel?”

“Wonderful.”

“Then let’s see if we can make it last for a while.”

“OK.”

“Come on. We’ll go downstairs.” Alan took Charles’ hand and they proceeded down the staircase and into the parlor, a very beautiful room, with elaborately carved arches over the recessed windows that were either side of the fireplace. An oriental rug was on the floor, two large bookcases stood against the interior walls. There were oil paintings, matching wing chairs and Windsor side chairs, a birdcage tea table, a Sheraton sofa. The sun was pouring in through the front windows.

“I feel very naked, being here like this,” Charles said.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes. It’s exciting.”

“Come here.” Charles went to Alan. Alan took him in his arms and kissed the boy on the lips. The man put his arms around Alan’s neck. This was the first demonstrative act that the kid had made. Alan could feel the teenager’s hands kneading his body, as he used his tongue to pry open Charles’ mouth. The kid knew almost nothing about kissing. The youngster was pressing himself against the man.

Alan decided that it was time. He disentangled himself, and took a position at the youth’s back. As he had when they were in the upstairs bedroom, he cupped the boy’s testicles with one hand and gripped his penis with the other. Alan began to stoke the kid’s cock.

“We can’t do it here,” Charles protested, “I’ll mess up the rug.”

Alan reached into his pocket, took out a handkerchief and handed it to Charles. “Use this to catch the cum,” he told the youth.

This required Charles to look at what was being done to him, to see the man’s hand on him, the cuffed sleeve of Alan’s shirt, to be more acutely aware of his own nakedness and of someone else manipulating his penis. Alan felt the boy’s nuts tighten, drawing up to his crotch, one ball on each side of the stiff erection that extended nearly all the way back to the teenager’s anus and into his body. Lightly, Alan tickled the youngster’s scrotum with the tips of his fingers. The man felt the lad’s climax start to shake him. Tremors passed though the kid in waves. Then Charles’ hand was pressing on Alan’s, a signal that the orgasm was finished.

Alan held the boy until he thought that Charles had returned to normal. “You probably want to get dressed now,” Alan speculated.

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to come up with you?”

“I’d like to be alone for a minute. Do you mind?”

“Not at all.”

Alan went out to the kitchen and made iced tea. About fifteen minutes later, Charles reappeared. “Shall we have some iced tea out on the porch?” Alan suggested.

“That would be good.”

Alan handed the youth a glass and led the way to the little screened enclave, hung with plants.

“Do you want me to do something for you?” Charles asked.

“Not unless you specially want to. I’ve had a perfectly nice time as it is.”

The boy said nothing in response, that being the response.

“Right now, you’re probably feeling a little foolish,” Alan offered.

“A bit.”

“That’s entirely normal, don’t feel bad about it.”

“Thanks. You’ve been very kind. I don’t know how to repay you.”

“I told you. I enjoyed it. There is nothing to repay. If you want to, come and see me again; if you don’t, don’t feel bad about that either.”

“You seem to know how I feel, even before I do.”

“Most people have to go through about the same things. At your age, you’ll be hot again in about an hour. In a couple of days you will want someone to have sex with. If there is no one else around, come here, you will always be welcome. If you find someone else and need a place to be together, bring him here.”

“Why are you being so good to me?”

“Because I wish someone had been around for me, when I was a kid. Because I like you.”

“Thanks.”

“Do you still mind the lecture I gave you about AIDS?”

“No, I’m glad you told me.”

“Well, be careful. I want you healthy.”

Charles grinned. They drank their tea and watched the sun make changing patterns on the lawn. Alan put some records on. Charles was a fan of early rock and roll, and was pleased with Alan’s collection. A while later, Charles looked at Alan kind of sheepishly and said, “Do you mind if we do it again?”

*****

During the next two weeks, Charles came to see Alan several more times. The last two of these, Charles had wanted Alan to go to bed with him. He did, of course. After Charles returned to Georgia, he wrote to Alan occasionally, telling him of his attempts to make friends and asking his advice. Alan was careful in his replies, assuming that the boy’s mother would eventually come upon one or more of his letters. When this happened, Charles wrote of his fury.

Although the boy’s mother and father hardly ever communicated, she brought this matter to the father’s attention. Alan had not attempted to hide his sexual orientation from the community, so it was generally known that he was gay. Both parents assumed that their son would have done nothing wrong, but insisted that he not write to Alan any more. The mother refused to let Charles visit his father the following summer, since he had failed to properly supervise the boy.

Charles rented a post office box, and sent the new mailing address to Alan. They wrote more frequently after that. Charles had many more issues thrust upon him and needed someone to discuss them with. His mother had asked him, flat out, if he was homosexual. He had lied, but wasn’t sure that was wise. Alan was the only person he knew, who he could trust.

Alan laid out the pros and cons, as best he could. Some kids get thrown out of their homes, when they come out to their parents. On the other hand, it is unpleasant to be untrue to yourself. Charles decided to wait until he had graduated from college. They were both very happy, when Charles was accepted to Yale.

Charles was not long at college, before he was meeting people. Yale had an active group for gay and lesbian students, and had created the first gay studies program in the country. Charles was popular. Now, finally, he needed advice on his love life. He met people who were shallow, some who wanted an emotional prop, those interested exclusively in sex, men he desired who did not seem responsive to him; all the sorts of situations there are in life. Alan tried to help by providing perspective, by recounting some of his own experiences, the mistakes he had made, and the things he felt he had done right.

Charles asked Alan to visit him for a weekend. He suggested where Alan could stay; that they would go out with friends, one of whom was Charles’ current interest; and that they would have some time to talk, just the two of them. Alan understood that Charles was trying to make it clear, that there would be no sex between them. Alan wrote back that it would be fun and that maybe he would meet some gay professor there.

Alan spent several weekends each year in New Haven, while Charles was a student. Then Charles, who had always been interested in aviation, joined the air force and was trained as a pilot. When his four years were completed, he flew for Trans World Airlines. This made the development of a permanent relationship unlikely. Charles and Alan remained friends. Sometimes, Charles would get Alan a free flight and they would have a few days in some exotic part of the world. As Charles got older, they resumed sexual relations, on those occasions when it happened to suit them both. They were comfortable with each other.

When “Charles” made his remark about going to Times Square and no one asking him for anything, I (Alan) just let it drop. We did have iced tea on the porch and we did have a very enjoyable chat. He said that he had to leave because his father was taking him to the local airport in Northampton, where he was going to have his first flying lesson. I said that I’d look for his plane and invited him to come back, if he had nothing better to do. I gave him a pat on the back as he left.

It took me a while to figure out the full significance of his remarks, about sometimes feeling that he never wanted to marry and Times Square. The construction, “sometimes feel,” slowed me down. How did he feel other times, I wondered. If he had returned, I would have pursued the matter with him, but he was so young, so inexperienced, a tourist, and the AIDS discussion would have been necessary. (Current advice is to take the test, because early interventions are possible now.) I was not prepared to make a move without more encouragement.

“Charles” did not visit my antique shop again. I suppose that he had given up on me. What did he have to do, draw pictures? He had taken a risk with his oblique statements. He didn’t have that much time in Wately, and his father had a full schedule of activities for him. Why would he waste more time on someone, who wasn’t going to ask him for anything?