Finding Tim
A Fourth Alternate Reality

 by: Charlie

© 2005-2008

 

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Episode 62
Penn

 

Sid had been gone about a week.  There had been multiple telephone calls back and forth to North Dakota to make sure that everything was going well.  Finally Fred called Tim and said, “Look, kid, we’re quite able to take care of Sid and his family–who are quite charming by the way.  You don’t need to worry.  You don’t need to call every day.  We really can manage this without you.  Go back to your diving and gymnastics and stop worrying about Sid.”

 

That seemed to be what Tim needed.  That night as we cuddled together in our warm, king size bed he said, “Charlie, it’s really wonderful that everyone in Grand Forks is so willing to help Sid and his family.”

 

“Tim, did you expect anything else from that crowd?  Especially since Sid’s family are all quite nice people.  Sid’s quite exceptional.  But our friends would’ve taken care of them regardless.  Did you every think otherwise?”

 

“No, not really.  But it’s hard to let go.”

 

“I know, Tim.  But Fred’s right, you need to get back to your routine.  And I’d add studying to Fred’s list of diving and gymnastics.”

 

Not since I’d first met Tim had I seen his routine so disrupted as by Sid.  Our coming out and commitment were less disruptive, I believe.  And this time he didn’t get back into his routines instantly.  Gradually, however, he fell back into his pre-Sid routine and things got back to normal for us.

 

Well, not for me.  Life at the Supreme Court was considerably more hectic than at the Court of Appeals, even though we handled less cases.  We had an unbelievable number of petitions for certiorari (i.e. to have the court hear the case on appeal), and handling them was the main task of the clerks.  It actually gave all of the clerks considerable power in the life of the court.  If it didn’t look like an important case to some clerk, it wasn’t likely to get to the top of anybody’s pile.  Doom for some poor slob that was desperate to have his case heard at the highest level.

 

My relationship with Chief Justice Clark was wonderful.  In his words, “Charlie you’re living up to all of my expectations.  You’ve challenged my writing in ways not one of your predecessor clerks ever dared.  I hope we have a really big case this year and you can help me work on it.”

 

We would have–the following June.  In the meantime it was a fairly ordinary year at the court.  I was busy and challenged, and if Justice Clark was being honest, “The best damn clerk this court has ever seen.”  Tim’s certain that Clark wasn’t exaggerating.  I’m equally certain he was.

 

In October we got a call from Franklin; his parents were going to take a week’s vacation in Washington.  He said they hadn’t been in the city since they took him when he was about twelve years old.  They thought they’d like to see it through the eyes of adults. 

 

“Why are you calling us, Franklin?” I asked.

 

“They aren’t going to call you up and ask to stay with you, Charlie.  I’m quite certain that they’ll get hotel reservations before they call.  I know they’ll want to visit, but they are going to be embarrassed to invite themselves to stay with you.”

 

“What the Hell?”  I asked.  “Since when is anybody even remotely connected to the Gang shy about asking to visit?”

 

“Don’t talk to me; talk to them,” said Franklin.

 

I did, about five minutes later.  I simply told Peter and Norma that staying anywhere else was totally unacceptable.   They were both on the phone, and Norma admitted that Peter had wanted to call us, but that she’d felt it was an imposition.  She said, “Charlie, I knew we were going to get dinner invitations, sightseeing, the works; you didn’t need us staying at your house at the same time.”

“Bosh!  Besides, we’re close to what you want to see in Washington, and it’ll be less trouble to see you off from our house than to have to pick you up somewhere else.”

 

Two weeks later we were meeting them at National Airport, thankful that they hadn’t flown into Dulles or Friendship in Baltimore, either of which would’ve been a lot further drive.  They settled into our guest room, and insisted that we get on with our lives and let them entertain themselves as tourists during the day.  We did, of course, lay on dinner at Halversham’s, and happened to meet the Goldwaters there that evening.  The Senator invited them for lunch at the Senate two days hence.  When I mentioned to Justice Clark that I had guests in town, he asked who they were.  He’d heard the story of the Gang, and was intrigued to meet the parents of a member of this extraordinary group.  So Peter and Norma were able to take home to Chippewa Falls the stories of lunch with Senator Goldwater and dinner at the home of the Chief Justice of the United States.  Not many Washington tourists are able to bring home such stories or memories.

 

They were pretty tired when they arrived the first night, and conversation was limited before they headed off to bed–at an hour even earlier than Tim was used to.  The third night, following our dinner at Halversham’s, our conversation with Peter and Norma didn’t go in a direction we expected.

 

“Tim, Charlie, rumor has it that sex is crossing the generational divide in the Gang,” put in Peter, after we’d been talking about the Gang and plans for the future.

 

“And just what route might such a rumor be traveling?” Tim asked.

 

“Parent to child, to a contemporary, to another contemporary, to a parent.”

 

“And you are the second parent on that list?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“That makes Franklin the contemporary of a contemporary of a child.”

 

“It would seem.”

 

“Hal and Franklin talk a lot.  Hal talks to all of the Gang.”

 

“Including Ronnie.”

 

“So this rumor has names attached.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Why are you telling Tim and me.”

 

“A variety of reasons.  First, and most important, Norma and I thought you should know that rumors spread.  There aren’t many secrets in the Gang, and that pretty much extends to the parents as well.”

 

“Other reasons?”

 

“Do you need to ask?”

 

“Peter, you know the rule in the Gang.  If you can’t talk about it, you can’t do it.”

 

Norma spoke up, “Boys.  Heck, you aren’t boys anymore.  But, gentlemen doesn’t work either.  What should we call you?”

 

Tim said, “I’d vote for kids, but I’m not sure that Charlie’s into that.”

 

I said, “I like boys.  It won’t be much longer that we can even dream of using that term, but if you think it describes us, that’s fine with me.”

 

“I agree,” confirmed Tim.

 

Norma continued with her thought, “Of course, boys simply emphasizes the age and generational difference between us and makes this all the more awkward.”

 

Tim said, “No, if the age makes it awkward, then we shouldn’t be doing it, whatever it is.  The point is, we’re exploring the question of whether there’s any reason for it to be awkward just because of our ages–presuming that Charlie and I are, legally at least, no longer boys.”

 

Peter said, “Franklin’s very disdainful of euphemisms, and our use of it has to be a classic example.  Norma and I have talked, and included Franklin in the conversation, and we’d like to invite a sexual relationship for the four of us.  At least at this stage, we aren’t talking about intercourse, but Franklin said he thought you two would be more into hands and mouths than fucking.  Is that correct?  And does that put it plainly and bluntly enough?”

 

I said, “So why do you still have your clothes on?  Does that answer it plainly and bluntly enough?”

 

You don’t need to guess who was naked first, do you?

 

I said, “Perhaps everyone would feel more comfortable if we went up to the bedroom.  Our king size bed holds four quite comfortably.  If you’d like to go up to your room to undress, that would be fine.”

 

Tim chimed in, “Oh, no, it wouldn’t.  I either want to undress them or watch them undress.  Nothing offstage.”

 

Peter stood up, “Who would you like to undress first?”

 

“You’re asking a gay boy?     You, of course.”

 

“Go for it.”

 

He did.  Interestingly he started at Peter’s fly, reached in and pulled out his now quite hard dick, and then work his balls out through the fly.  With the fly pushing them up and out, and the full erection, Peter looked ready to go.”

 

With that Tim grabbed his dick and led him upstairs to the master bed.  I reached through the buttons of Norma’s blouse and hooked two fingers into her bra and pulled her along behind Tim and Peter. 

 

In our bedroom, Tim told Norma to undress me.  She hesitated a little and then did so, starting with my shoes and socks, then my shirt and pants.  She left me in my briefs, showing a very hard dick.  Tim shoved Peter over and told him to pull down my briefs.  He did.  Tim said, “Down on your knees and suck him.”

 

Peter seemed a little startled at that command, but he did what he was told.  I didn’t want to come this soon, so I stopped him fairly soon, even though it felt wonderful.  I moved over to Norma and undressed her, sucking her tits as I exposed them.  Then, on my knees, I pushed my tongue in and began to explore her cunt.  While we were engaged, Tim finished undressing Peter and knelt down and sucked him as well.

 

Before things went too far, Norma said, “Stop.  I think that it’s time for a little more talk.”

 

“Right,” said Tim, and Peter and I agreed.

 

There were two chairs in the room, and Peter and Norma took them.  Tim and I sat on the foot of the bed.  We were all pretty aroused and eager, but realized that conversation at this point was probably in order.

 

Norma started, “A couple of questions: First, have we already passed the point of no return?  Second, is it really appropriate for us to be having sex with our son’s contemporaries?  With his camp counselor?  Third, how far are we going to let this go?”

 

Peter said, “Obviously, we’ve talked this over between us and are comfortable.  But we think those questions should be raised with both generations.  There’s also the homosexuality issue, which is new for me.  And I guess the heterosexuality issue for you two–but I know that that isn’t new for you.”

 

I said, “Look, the Gang concluded long ago that sex is fun, and as long as you respect each other, better yet, love each other, its OK.  Better than OK, I think that the relationships within the Gang have been substantially strengthened because of their sexual aspects.  Of course, we’ve been able to avoid jealousy and all of its ramifications.  I think that’s mainly because we’ve denied no one.  We’ve given everyone an opportunity to have sex with anyone in the Gang; much more than that, we’ve encouraged it.  And we’ve honored some special relationships, like Hal with Franklin, and Phil with me.  It’s all worked.  Would it work for everyone?  I doubt it.  So what?  Will it continue to work as your generation gets added into the mix?  I think so.  But I’m not sure just how many of your generation are going to be interested.  Certainly we aren’t going to push anyone.”

Peter asked, “What about kids and parents?  If this gets more widespread, are we going to find ourselves in situations with Franklin?  Or Phil? He’s more of a son than anything.”

 

Tim said, “We’re thinking pretty far into the future here, and speculating an awful lot about others in your generation.  But let’s speculate, and assume that several sets of parents decide to join in.  What about parents and children?”

 

I said, “The cultural norms are pretty firm; it’s a no-no.  I’m quite aware that those are the same norms that say that homosexuality is sinful; that frown on bisexuality; and insist upon monogamy.”

 

Tim said, “It’s the same set of norms that kept us apart for four years.”

 

“Right, and that simply says that we have to evaluate each, and see if they work for us.  Frankly, I’m troubled by parent-child sex.  The counselor-camper relationship that we had has been replaced by a different one.  You can’t replace the parent-child relationship, and you can’t end it.”

 

Peter put in, “I don’t think that having sex with children is the issue.  It’s being present, watching, being a part of a larger activity that includes your child.  It’s one thing for Franklin to tell me about his sexual adventures.  I can turn that off at any point in the story when I’m getting more information than I want.  But if he and Tim are having at it in the same room, what’re my options?  What are the limitations?”

 

Tim answered, “Comfort.  You don’t let yourself get outside your comfort zone.  Just like this evening.  If it looks like Norma and I are headed toward my fucking her, and that’s outside your comfort zone then you have two choices:  You can leave the room, with Charlie if you like, if the issue is just having to watch.  On the other hand, if the issue is simply the fact that Norma and I are fucking, then you need to speak up.  Both of us would immediately respect  your expression of discomfort.”

 

“I believe you.  And I think I believe that about the entire Gang.  I wouldn’t be so sure beyond that group.”

 

“Neither would I, which is precisely why Charlie and I don’t have sex with very many people outside the Gang and a few other intimate friends.”

 

“Point well taken.”

 

Norma said, “I think there’s another issue.  I’m not sure how comfortable I am bringing it up, but I think we’re trying to lay everything on the table tonight, before we go too far.”

 

“Right,” said both Tim and I.

 

“Charlie, you’re thirty.  When we first met you, you were twenty, I think.”

 

“Right.”

 

“Tim is twenty-four, he was fourteen when we first met him.  Face it, fourteen year olds, twenty-somethings, and a thirty year old, are a lot sexier to a forty or fifty-something, than the other way around.  Are we taking advantage of you when we get involved in a sexual relationship?  Are you just being nice to us old folks?”

 

Tim said, “What a question!  Well, Charlie is more attractive to me than anybody else on earth.  I guess that if looks was all that counted, then you’d have a good point.  But I don’t think that’s the point.  If I’m tempted to have sex with Peter it isn’t because I think he’s beautiful, but because I’ve gotten to know him, like him, respect him, and think that he would bring a mutuality of like and respect to the relationship.  Given that as background, then I think that the principle that’s working here is, ‘Variety is the spice of life.’  Why should I limit myself to people my own age?  Charlie will pretty vigorously enforce a rule against my looking very much younger, so I have to look older.  I think that you know that Charlie and I have had a sexual thing going with Felix, the guy we bought our house from and who now lives in the apartment upstairs.  I guess that started because we felt sorry for Felix; he was a gay man who had been unfulfilled all his life.  But once we got into it, sex with Felix was fun.  It was great for both sides.”

 

I said, “Peter, you’re moving into a situation in which you add two men to your couple.  It means homosexual activity.  Are you ready for that?  I guess you are, or this whole conversation would never have started.”

 

“I’m ready.  You know that I’ve been dealing with the fact that I have a gay son for about a dozen years.  I quickly got over the idea that gay sex was dirty or repugnant.  Now as I’ve talked with Franklin I find myself intrigued.  But neither Franklin nor Phil were appropriate for experimentation.  Honestly, boys, I’m eager to find out what it’s all about.  I hope you’re willing to accept me on those terms.”

 

“We are,” said Tim.  I nodded agreement.  Tim continued, “Norma, what do we bring to this for you?  We can’t offer a lesbian relationship.”

 

“I think that Peter would agree that we’re in somewhat of a rut.  Years ago we played around with oral sex, but not much.  We start with our hands, but almost always end up fucking, and in a pretty limited set of positions.  There’s no way you two aren’t going to bring a lot of variety to our scene.  And I’m not talking about age variety–though that’ll be fun.”

 

I said, “We’ve been sitting here stark naked, talking about sex.  Don’t you think it’s time we moved beyond talk?”

 

Tim said, “Absolutely.  Norma, there’s one thing that I’m certain you have never experienced: three on one.  Lie down here on the bed.  Peter, you suck her tits, gently but thoroughly.  I’m going to kiss her.  Charlie, you work down between her legs.”

 

We all bent to our tasks, and Norma sailed into ecstacy.  This was followed by all of us laying on the bed in somewhat of a heap, very conscious of each other’s bodies.  Tim remained in charge.  “Peter, in a gay encounter receiving an orgasm isn’t a lot different from a straight relationship.  After all, a man or a woman’s hands are very similar, as are mouths.  Of course, getting a dick shoved up a man’s ass is pretty much limited to a gay relationship. On the other hand, in giving, whether with your hand or your mouth, it’s quite a different experience.  So you can use your hands on Charlie and then your mouth on me.”

 

Peter was willing to be led, and Tim was clearly leading.  Peter wiggled around so that he was at my side, slid his hand over me and grabbed my dick.  I said, “Follow the Golden Rule:  Do unto me just what you’d like me to do unto you.”

 

The rule worked, and we both had a good time.  It didn’t take long to produce a mess on my belly and his hand.  Tim pushed Norma on top of me, saying, “Gay boys, at least these gay boys, like messing around in cum.  Join in.”

 

She did, but with a little less enthusiasm than Tim displayed!

 

Now was Peter’s time.  He’d sucked me a little when Tim had ordered him to, but he’d just been unthinkingly responding to Tim’s instruction.  Now here was Tim’s dick aiming at him, and he had time to think, not only about sucking Tim, but about the logical consequence of that act.  However, even though he’d never had sex with Franklin, he knew what Franklin did, and so the whole idea of oral sex was far from new to him.  He took the plunge.  Tim wiggled around on the bed, as if approaching climax, far more than normal, and I’m sure that he was just giving Peter a good time.  But Peter returned the favor, and eventually Tim exploded into Peter who swallowed it all without protest.

 

Norma and Peter weren’t sure about sleeping four in the bed, but we insisted, and that’s the way we slept.  The next morning, at both Norma and Peter’s insistence, all three of the men fucked Norma, crossing a line that originally we hadn’t been sure we wanted to cross. I don’t know how many orgasms she had, but she sure had a good time with each of us, and we with her.

 

That morning we went our separate ways.  Norma and Peter toured downtown joining me at the court for lunch, and then they headed out to the University and watched Tim’s gymnastics practice.  That evening was our dinner at the Clarks’,coming home early enough to talk about another evening and night. 

 

As we sat in the living room Peter asked, “OK, last night we crossed just about every line we are going to cross.  Can we move beyond thinking that the relationships in the room are special, and act normal?”

 

Tim and I both responded with, “Sure,” or its equivalent.

 

Norma said, “But what is normal?  If Hal and Sue were your guests, would you now be talking about what was going to happen tonight, or would it just happen?”

 

Tim said, “Who knows?  Sometimes we talk.  Sometimes we act.  Sometimes nothing happens.”

 

I piped up, “Seldom.”

 

Tim continued.  “We did a lot of talking with Hal in the beginning, as he had some issues that were resolved by his having a wonderful night with Charlie, while I had the same thing with Sue.”

 

Peter said, “I’d like to hear that story sometime.”

 

Tim told the story, ending with, “So, that suggests to me that I should take Norma to bed tonight.”  He bowed in front of her, took her hand, led her up to the guest bedroom, and they weren’t heard from until morning. 

 

I stood up and repeated the performance with Peter, and we ended up in the king size bed.  Both couples tried 69; Hell, more than tried, it came off perfectly! 

 

Not long after Peter and Norma had returned to Chippewa Falls we got a phone call from Franklin and Phil.  Franklin started with, “You guys really pushed the envelope with Mom and Dad!”

 

“We sure did.  I hope that doesn’t upset you.  They said that you all had talked about the possibility.”

 

“No, no.  I think it’s great.  The Gang is expanding!  Who’d have guessed.”  Franklin continued, “I was worried about Phil and how he’d react, considering the attitude of his parents.”

 

Phil chimed in, “I said, ‘Our parents are just so cool!’”

 

Franklin said, “That’s just what he said.  ‘Our parents.’  Oh, God, Phil, I love you.”

 

Tim said, “We all do, Phil.  And you, too, Franklin.”

 

We did have to return to reality in Washington from time to time.  The big case that I was hoping would happen on my watch was bearing down on us, but we didn’t know it.  In the meantime, life at the Court was generally routine,  which was pretty good, because not much else in Washington was routine.  Alice liked us to grace her parties from time to time, and although she insisted that we had no obligation to her, it was ridiculous to suggest that we could accept her free hospitality for two years and not be present when she asked if it was at all possible.  She was so kind about those occasions when we declined that it almost made us feel guilty.  She didn’t, thank goodness, overdo it.  One party, in particular, stands out.  Louis Armstrong and his band, who constantly were on tour, were the entertainment.  Alice had employed him before, and they seemed like old friends–though both of them were capable of acting like old friends with any perfect stranger!  Tim and I weren’t the guests of honor, but we were seated near Alice nevertheless.  Washington protocols would have had us almost at the foot of the table farthest from Alice, and our promotion was obviously noted.  The guest of honor was some Senator or other, I can’t really remember; he was having a 60th birthday.  But clearly he was simply an excuse for a party.  Tim worked hard not to upstage the honored guest, but that was hardly possible when Alice invited people to get his autograph, and mine as well. 

 

Louis Armstrong was introduced, and after a few numbers, played “Happy Birthday” for the Senator.  Then he broke into “Hello Dolly”, but when he started to sing it was “Hello Timmie; Hello Charlie, it’s nice to see you here where you belong.”  We were pulled to the podium, introduced, and then Alice came up.  We began to realize that we were in the middle of a well-planned production, and would learn our parts as we went along.  Alice talked a little about both of us, mentioned that we were the outest gay couple in America.  At this point a trumpet in the background started to play “We Kiss in a Shadow.”  Where on earth had Alice found out about our connection with that tune we’ll never know.  Her detective work really did put the CIA and Brinks to shame!  The band was ready even if we weren’t, and it was clear that we were going to have to sing for our supper.  We did, and much of Washington got a very public view of gays in America–many or most for the first time.  Then the band made it clear that it was dance time, and the rhythm made traditional dance partners unnecessary.  In the little over a year and a half since we had danced the Twist with Chubby Checker at this same house, dance styles all over America had changed.  It wasn’t just the Twist, but virtually every popular dance involved partners that didn’t touch and didn’t have prescribed gender roles.  I presume that gays all over America, not just Tim and I, were delighted with this evolution (or revolution) in dance styles.

 

Then Tim did something that only Tim would have the nerve to do.  As Louis Armstrong finished a brief trumpet solo and was standing with his trumpet under his arm, Tim walked up and pulled him onto the dance floor.  In a low voice Tim said, “If you can make me sing, I can make you dance,” and dance they did.  Amazingly, Armstrong was quite a good dancer and he and Tim quickly were solo dancers in the middle of the floor. 

 

The whole night is a blurr.  We danced, talked with Alice, Louis, politicians, you name it.  About half way through the evening Armstrong and his band put on a brief stage show.  A little more than a decade before Armstrong and his band, some of whom were still with him and were on the bandstand that evening, had been in the movie High Society with Grace Kelly and Bing Crosby.  Now Louis was doing the number “Now You Has Jazz” that he’d done with Bing Crosby in the movie.  He sang both the Crosby and the Armstrong parts, and right in the middle, in a loud aside to the audience, he said, “Dig this, Bing Crosby in technicolor!”  It brought down the house.

 

Author’s note: Armstrong did the “Now You Has Jazz” number on tour, just as described, and with the same technicolor joke.  I had the good fortune to see him do it in person.

 

I don’t remember much more about the party except that it was both louder and later than usual.  That didn’t keep Tim from bounding out of bed early the next morning, ready for a new day of studies and practicing.  As often did, he drove me past the Supreme Court building on his way to College Park.  As I got out he said, “Charlie, do you think that Grand Forks will be as exciting as Washington?”

 

As I shut the door I answered, “Yes, Tim, it will, with you there.”

 

I believed it.

 

The University of Pennsylvania would host a major international, individual, invitational gymnastics meet in March.  Tim and Tor were both expected, and much of the gymnastics world had concluded that this would be the big showdown between the giants of the gymnastics world before Munich.  Tor and Tim were excited to see each other for other reasons as well.  I told Justice Clark about the meet, asking for time off, but also reminding him that his wife, Sally, had asked to be informed when she might see a gymnastics meet that Tim would participate in.  This was it, and it was sure to provide the spectators with a good show.

 

Within a week Justice Clark let me know that Alice and Sally had arranged for a chartered bus to take them and “a few of their friends” to Philadelphia.  With both Sally and Justice Clark aboard, along with Lady Bird Johnson, the bus would be provided a police escort and Secret Service protection.  Tim and I still chuckle when we contemplate the reaction the University of Pennsylvania must’ve had to the initial contacts of the Secret Service, telling them that the spectators at their meet would be getting Secret Service protection!  It also startled them when the Chief Justice and the former First Lady offered to present the medals at the medal ceremony concluding the meet.  It wasn’t until later that they connected those events to Tim.

 

The knowledge that Tor would be competing really spiked Tim’s practice.  I don’t think that he was worried about competing with Tor, or who would get the most medals.  Rather, Tor was a respected competitor and colleague, and Tim would’ve been quite embarrassed and ashamed not to be at his very best in the competition.  I can honestly say that he was better than his best!

 

Tor and Vlad arrived in the U.S. about ten days before the meet and  about a week ahead of most of the other competitors.  They were to be our guests for that week, and then we’d all proceed to Philadelphia together, the day before the meet.  We’d all share a big hotel room, rather than staying in the athlete’s quarters at the University.  I wonder why?

 

Tim decided that it was time to do a favor for some of his favorite journalists--Bill (from Elgin, Illinois), Mike (Tim’s high school classmate), Susan (from Minneapolis), Mick (from SI), Eddie (from Grand Forks), and a couple of others (Evan from the Washington Post and Steve from Diving) that had been especially kind or helpful to us.  They were invited to join him and Tor for exclusive pictures and interviews in the week before the meet.  He also invited Merle to come and do some of his drawings.  Tim had arranged to use a practice gym at the University of Maryland and had made a deal with the Director of Athletics: in exchange for Tim and Tor having exclusive use of the gym for two hours a day, the rest of their practice would be open to the University community.  There was great reluctance to give Tim the two hours exclusively, but Tim was insistent.  If that wasn’t the deal he would arrange practice facilities in a different location.  Since everybody at Maryland was eager to see Tim and Tor, who otherwise would only be performing in Philadelphia, the deal was struck.

 

Tim used the two hours for Tor and him to reestablish the rapport that existed between them, to develop new and more spectacular aspects of their routines, and to meet exclusively with Tim’s friendly press.

 

It was quite a week.  Mike, now on the staff of Sports Illustrated ,said that when he told his boss that he and Mick had an exclusive invitation to Tim and Tor’s private practice sessions, he was almost worshiped.  That kind of access to world-class athletes is rare, and reporters that can achieve it, or bring it with them to the job as Mike had, were on the fast road to success.  For Tim and Tor it meant they’d be featured in what was sure to be a wonderful story in SI, and probably another cover.  That may not have been a big deal for Tim, but for Tor it would be a spectacular coup!  Going back to Stockholm with a stack of America’s leading sports magazine under your arm, featuring you on the cover along with your friend Tim, would be a thrill.

 

Tim laid out the ground rules for the reporters: Nothing they obtained in the private sessions, including photos, was to be published before the meet without clearing it first.  However, everything they saw and heard was on the record unless they were specifically told otherwise.  And, right now, Tim was telling them that anything sexual was off the record.

 

Mike chuckled and asked, “Just exactly what’re you going to be doing, in that regard, that’ll be off the record?”

 

Tim chuckled and said, “Who knows?  But it’d better not be in your viewfinder.”

 

Mick asked, “Seriously, you know that I’ll respect whatever the rules are, but the fact that both you and Tor are gay is public, and it is a story.”

 

Tim said, “Sure.  You can write that.  You already have.  But there may be conversation, gestures, more, around here in the private sessions, and that stays private.  Write a sports story, not a sex story.”

Susan said, “That’s what we’re here for.”

 

I said, “There’s one other thing.  Merle’s going to be sketching both Tor and Tim.  They’ve agreed to some nude modeling, including action on some of the apparatus.  No photos.  Anybody that’s going to be embarrassed, make yourself scarce at those times.”

 

Susan said, “This is going to be an interesting week.”

 

It was, for everyone.  First of all, the public sessions were well attended and Tim and Tor put on quite a show.  Well, the sessions were technically not public.  There were open to the University community and guests of the athletic faculty, Tim, and Tor.  University IDs were checked.  That still made for close to a full house in the small practice gym which Tim had been allowed to use.

 

While Justice Clark was willing to be very generous with time off for me, I felt the need to be at the Count in the morning the days of their practice week.  I ate a bag lunch on the run as I drove to College Park, regularly arriving as Tim and Tor returned from lunch for the two hour private session that ran from 1 to 3.  It always started with Tim and Tor chatting with the small group of reporters, explaining the practice plans for the next 24 hours.  Then Tim and Tor would spend about 45 minutes coaching each other on various fine points of their routines.  They spoke so that everyone could hear them–that was the point of inviting people to these private sessions.  At one point Mick turned to me and said, “They’re talking about a level of perfection that most gymnasts can’t even dream about.  Tim doesn’t talk about sticking a landing, but whether the balls of his feet hit at the same time as the heels, and whether he bent his knees too much.  It’s absurd.”

 

“Not to Tim.”

 

“I know.  Not to Tor, either.  But that’s new.  Tor was always good, but since his working with Tim before the Munich meet, he’s improved incredibly.  And his coach says that he’s acquired a level of seriousness about his performances that never was there before.”

 

“Pure Tim,” I said.

 

“It must be quite something living with that guy?”

 

“It takes getting used to.  His demands are never voiced, but you know he expects the world of everyone he loves, and when he loves me like he does, I don’t have any choice.”

 

“And, Bingo, you get a gold medal in archery.”

 

“Bingo.  And a law degree.  And a Supreme Court Clerkship.  And.  And.  And.”

 

“You give Tim credit for all of that?”

 

“If you were to look at my college transcript, you could pinpoint the date that I met Tim.  My life changed.  Dramatically.  I don’t want to suggest that I’d have been a loser without Tim.  But I sure as Hell wouldn’t be where I am.”

 

“None of what you have achieved came from riding his coattails.”

 

“No, not that.  It’s been his inspiration, not his pulling or pushing.”

 

“It looks like Tor’s reacted similarly.”

 

“He won’t be the first.”

 

“Off the record, how much is sex involved in this?”

 

“With me?  A Hell of a lot.  With others, not really.  Yeah, sex is part of Tim’s relationship with some, but not others.  I don’t think their ability to improve their diving, gymnastics, or anything else, is related to sex.  He’s inspired a lot of people whom he’s never had sex with.”

 

“But you’re telling me that he does have sexual relationships other than you.”

 

“Off the record you can conclude that.  Never excluding me, I need to add.”

 

“Understood.  How can you be so sure you can trust me?”

 

“I’ve known you a while, Mick.  I think you can be trusted.  But Tim would quickly point out that you have more to lose than to gain.  If Tim and I, and all of his friends, told Sports Illustrated that you’d betrayed a trust, and that we’d have nothing to do with SI while you were on their staff, where would you be?”

 

“Out the door.  Is that a threat?”

 

“No.  You are smart enough to figure that out without a threat.  But we’re being honest here, so I’m telling you that it isn’t completely a matter of trust.  But we do trust you.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

Merle sat through all of the sessions, sketching madly.  He worked in charcoal, pencil, and pastels.  He liked charcoal the best.  He said nothing, never asked for poses, and filled sketch books at a furious rate.  If the pages sold like the ones he did of Jim’s judo success he could retire on this set of sketches.  Tina had come to Philadelphia with Merle and sat through all of the sessions, either watching over Merle’s shoulder or just sitting watching the gymnastics.  I couldn’t help but wonder what she thought about Tim–the Tim that she’d certainly loved and could never have.  Not once, however, did she exhibit any jealousy or regret.  She and Tim were openly friendly, and kissed each other each day when they met for the first time.

 

When Tim had called Merle and invited him to the practice sessions and suggested that he might like to do some sketching, Merle had very hesitantly asked about nude sketches.  Tim said that it was fine with him, but Tor had to agree.  Tim also thought that Tor would agree.  Tim wasn’t exactly sure what Merle had in mind, but he wasn’t worried about the nude sessions, or Merle’s use of the sketches.  Merle easily agreed to follow whatever rules Tim and Tor laid down, and to get permission for any public use of the sketches.

 

The Wednesday private session was set aside for the nude sketching.  I think that Merle expected that the number of spectators would be reduced, but it wasn’t.  The group had been restricted from the beginning, but all of that restricted group was welcome on Wednesday.  Cameras were not.  Bill commented that his mind was a pretty good camera, and it would be shooting!

 

Tim and Tor walked in in their usual outfits–snug short shorts and sleeveless Tees, as they had to get through the public areas from the locker room to the gym.  Then they simply took off their clothes and proceeded to conduct the two hour session as usual.  The few from the Gang that were present didn’t bat an eye.  The reporters, especially Susan and Eddie, were a little startled, but soon got used to the situation.  Merle’s sketching continued at an even more furious pace throughout the session.  I’ll have to admit that seeing the two gymnasts going through their routines completely naked was erotic and exciting.  The pommel horse was especially arousing as their scrotums swung around following their legs!

 

I did enjoy watching Tina watch Tim!  Her eyes hardly left him during the whole session.  It was clear that she was thoroughly enjoying a view of Tim that she hadn’t had since high school!  Merle was clearly aware of Tina’s interest in Tim, but didn’t seem to be bothered in the least.  It was interesting:  as an artist he dealt with nudity on a regular basis, and it didn’t bother him.  Yet, he was the single member of the Gang that didn’t choose to participate in any sexual relationship with anyone other than Tina.  Tina respected that, but watching her watch Tim, I couldn’t help but wonder how much she missed a broader sex life.  I guessed that someday I might find out.

 

Tor did a vault and then turned and watched Tim do the same vault.  As Tim stuck his landing, Tor picked him up under his arms and lifted him up so that his groin was directly in Tor’s face.  He held him and kissed him very gently on the end of his penis, which by then was sticking straight out at Tor.  Then he slowly let him down.  I was pretty sure, but not certain, that Merle had captured the moment. 

 

Then Tim waved me and Vlad over to the two of them.  We were told to strip as well.  Then Tim lined Tor, Vlad, and me up in his field of vision on the rings.  Bill came over and asked what Tim was doing.  I responded, “I’d be willing to guess that he’s about to hold a “T” position a preposterously long time.”

 

“Why do you call it a “T” position?  It’s an iron cross.”

 

“It may be to you, and to everyone else, but Tim refuses to use that term.  He dislikes the Prussian military connotations.  He says he wouldn’t wear an iron cross, he won’t do one either.  It’s also called a crucifix, but that offends Tim even more.  If you could hold one at least ten seconds longer than anyone else in the world, you, too, could call it anything you pleased.  ”

Bill laughed at that.  Then Tim called out, “Bill.  Bill Manly.  Either get away from those three or take your clothes off.”

 

That caught Bill by surprise.  I said, “I don’t think he wants to see any clothed bodies while he does whatever it is that he’s going to do.  Strip or move, take your pick.”

 

To my surprise, Bill decided to strip.  He was quickly as naked as Vlad, Tor, and me, and we all stood there looking at Tim and wondering what was coming.  Tim was on the rings, but facing away from us.  He was quickly inverted, so that he was looking in our direction.  Then he was holding an inverted “T”.  Five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven seconds.  Then we heard Frank’s voice, “That’s enough Tim.”

 

At fifteen seconds Tim was swinging on the rings like they were a circus trapeze–a forbidden gymnastics move, as they were “still rings” to gymnasts.  All of a sudden Tim was flying through the air doing a reverse double dismount with a half twist, landing right in front of our noses.  He stuck his landing, of course, and then tweaked each of our dicks before kissing me.  He was now getting a mixture of applause and laughter for both his rings performance and his sexual antics.

 

I think Bill had just had the first homosexual experience of his life–if a very minor one in the scheme of things.  He got red in the face and hard in the dick!  Tim grinned at him, pointed to his dick, and said, “If you don’t hide it someone is likely to suck it.”  Bill got harder, if that was possible, and quickly started to put on his clothes.  Tim continued, “Don’t you want to watch Tor?  The same rules apply.”

 

Bill had his undershorts up, hiding himself, but now had to consider his next move.   He could obviously watch Tor from the side with all his clothes on, but this was a challenge.  What was Tim, or Tor for that matter, likely to do if he got naked again?  He took the risk, pulled off his shorts, and said, “Tor, let’s see you do your stuff.”

 

Tor did his stuff.  He held a standard “T” position for 26 seconds, Frank having suggested a halt at about 23.  Tor stuck a good landing from still rings and walked over to us.  He smiled at Bill and said, very quietly so that only the little group of naked men could hear, “Gee, Vlad and I would both love to suck that thing.  Care to join us later?”

 

Bill wasn’t sure whether he was serious or not, and to this day I’m not sure either.  But he came back well, “That thing, as you call it, happens to prefer female mouths, and so now will go into hiding.”  With that he very calmly got dressed.  It was, in fact, a little after three and time for us all to get dressed and open the doors to the larger public.  As soon as we were all dressed Susan walked over and said to Tim and me, “I don’t believe what I just witnessed.  Can you really trust everyone in this room.  We’re all sitting on one Hell of a story.”

 

Tim smiled and said, “But it’d be your last Tim story, and there are lots more to come.  Next time we’re going to get your clothes off.”

 

She smiled and said, “Any time, Tim boy.  You too, Charlie.”

 

Now it was our turn to try to figure out who was being serious!

 

The reporters left and the practice continued.  We had established a pattern that at the three o’clock ending of the private session the reporters would leave, exiting via the back stairs to the locker room and coming back in with the larger press group at the front door.  We didn’t really want to make an issue of the fact that certain reporters were getting special access.  When he came back in, Bill went over to Frank and asked about his stopping Tim and Tor while they were holding the “T” positions.  Frank replied that he didn’t want them pushing themselves too much just before an important meet.  Both were capable of going too long and straining muscles.

 

Bill asked, “Just how long do you think they could’ve held those positions?  Tor held the “T” for 26 seconds and Tim was inverted for 15.  That’s phenomenal.”

 

Frank said, “Tim’s beaten 40 seconds in the “T” and with you guys naked there I’ll bet he could’ve made a minute.  Of course, today he was inverted.  That way, probably half that.  I don’t know about Tor, but when I suggested that he stop he’d gone long enough.”

 

Vlad joined them on the apparatus, and the three of them put on quite a show for those watching, which included a pretty good crowd of university athletes and others.  Mick said to me, “I can’t remember when two athletes so dominated a sport.  That they’re such good friends, from completely different team backgrounds, and such fierce competitors makes it a good story.  I won’t know until tonight, but I expect them on the SI cover when it comes out tomorrow.  And if they do as well as I expect at the meet, they’ll make the cover again next week.  Boy, I’d love to have one of Merle’s nude sketches.  My editors would drool like a bulldog!”

 

“In your dreams.”

 

“I know.  But you can’t stop me from dreaming.”

 

“I wouldn’t want to try.  New subject, just how well do you expect these two to do in the six events?”

 

“One or the other will get a medal in each of the six events.  They’ll be one, two on high bar and rings.  Tor should dominate the pommel horse.  Tim’s hard to beat on the floor.  Beyond that, who knows?”

 

“That would be quite impressive.”

 

“The meet is Saturday.  If they perform as well Saturday as they do today, they’ll do at least that well.  And if they keep it up, they’ll dominate the Munich Olympics as they have never been dominated.  It’s extraordinary.”

 

“What did you think you were getting into when SI sent you up to Minneapolis to interview the little gay diver/gymnast who’d had the audacity to come out?”

 

“Better yet, ask me what I thought when the kid started laying down the ground rules for the interview.  So polite.  So gracious.  But I played by his rules or I didn’t play.”

 

“He knew you’d play.”

 

“I know he did.  My editor wasn’t happy when I told him that Susan had been present for the interview.  But we both have learned that we have to play by Tim’s rules.  Since then it’s been quite a roller coaster ride.”

 

“You can’t believe how many people use the roller coaster metaphor in describing life with Tim.  I first heard his brother Carl use it.”

 

Eddie had joined the conversation and asked, “You live it all the time, don’t you Charlie?”

 

“I sure do.”

 

“Do you have the feeling that you’re playing second fiddle?”

 

“Tim never lets me feel that way.  If you’d hear him talk to me you’d think I was the most important person in the world and he was just so lucky to have me.”

 

Mick said, “Don’t forget, Charlie’s an Olympic gold medalist, in addition to his law success, and his book, and all that Lincoln stuff.  They make an incredible duo.”

 

Eddie said, “I remember when I got a call from Susan Wilfield inviting me to come and interview Tim.  I knew who he was, but I wasn’t sure where I fit in.  The interview was almost over before they told me he was going to join the North Dakota diving team.  He fooled everyone with that decision.  But it’s been wonderful for Grand Forks.”

 

Mick said, “You can believe that the sports world was surprised at that decision.  We all thought he was crazy.  It would be the end of his career.  He had to go to a big school with a top notch coach.  It wasn’t the first or the last time that Tim rewrote the rulebook.  Look at him out there!”

 

Tim had just completed a very difficult vault.  His vaulting wasn’t like his diving, where he could do every dive in the book.  He didn’t dominate the vault, but he sure as Hell was good.

 

The practice, and then the week, ended.  We drove up to Philadelphia Friday evening and stayed in a nice hotel.  Vlad and I insisted that Tim and Tor sleep together, in anticipation of the meet on Saturday.  They slept in each other’s arms, letting their hands roam at will, but didn’t go any further.  They were following, unconsciously, Hal’s dictum that a little sexual tension helps the athletic performance.  Vlad and I, in the second bed, had no such limitations.  I think Vlad would’ve liked to fuck me, but he respected Tim’s and my limits and didn’t even suggest it.  He rammed himself into my oral cavity instead!

 

We were up early the next morning, had a very carefully controlled breakfast, and headed for the Penn field house.  With the advance publicity, the SI cover, Sally and Lady Bird talking it up in Washington, and the hype about the Tim versus Tor competition, there was a full house, unheard of in this venue for a gymnastics meet or any event in a non-major sport.  Tim was used to this; Tor was not.  At first he seemed a little flustered, and then, as he realized the he was half of the center of attention, his ego took over.  He began to ham things up a little, waving to the crowd and behaving, at least from Tim’s point of view, stupidly.  Tim took him aside and they talked about five minutes.  Basically Tim calmed him down and let him know that his ego was setting him up for a fall.  “Just think of it as another practice session.”

 

Evidently it worked, because Tor got the message and returned to pretty serious attention to his gymnastics.

 

In the words of Sports Illustrated, well Mick’s words to be specific, “Never have two athletes so dominated a gymnastics meet.”  Both of them placed at least fourth in each event.  On the high bar the judges simply refused to break a tie: both were awarded a ten, and both got gold.  Tor edged Tim out on the rings and they were one, two.  Tim had gone last, and his average score was 9.94; Tor’s had been 9.97.  Tim was pure Tim; as soon as the scores went up and the average was calculated, Tim realized that Tor had won the rings.  He ran over to Tor and hugged him.  You’d have thought he was Tor’s father, brother, or coach, not the athlete he’d just beaten.  Tim was genuinely happy for Tor; he always believed that if you wanted gold you had to be better than everyone else, and if you weren’t; well, then you didn’t get gold.  You can still rejoice in the success of the guy that beat you.  And Tim did. 

 

Tor so dominated the pommel horse that nobody was even close to his ten.  His performance was spectacular, and Mick swore he’d never seen anything like it.  At third, Tim didn’t make much of a mark in that event!  Tim was second on the parallel bars, to Tor’s third, and on the vault they were third and fourth.  Floor exercises was the last event, and Tim performed last.  Tor did quite well, setting a pretty high bar for Tim.  However, everyone in the building, at least those that were familiar with Tim, knew that they might as well award the gold medal before he started.

The most amazing thing about his performance was that it was a new routine, one that he’d never done before.  He had known that his practice sessions were being watched, filmed, and carefully dissected.  In order to do something new he had to develop it in his mind, not on the mat.  He practiced all of the pieces, singly or as part of other routines, but put the whole thing together in his mind.  He swears that the final details fell into place as he walked to the mat.  If the standard for excellence was a double whatever, he did a triple.  If a full twist was difficult, he did a double.  He danced around the edge of the mat so that even those of us that were used to his antics worried about his missing.  He didn’t.  If a six footer like Tor rose to eight feet in a somersault, Tim reached eight and a half feet.  Everything stuck.  Not barely, but solidly; leaving nothing to doubt.  I was seated next to Mick; I couldn’t watch Mick because I didn’t want to take my eyes off of Tim, but I could feel the tension in Mick’s body.  We were both on the edges of our seats, riveted to the performance.  When Tim stuck his last landing, in the corner with his toes so close to touching the line that it would’ve taken a magnifying glass to check,  Mick was on his feet yelling his approval.  So was the entire house.  Tim had given the performance of his life, and the four thousand people lucky enough to see it would never see anything like that again in their lifetimes.  In any case that was Mick’s judgement as reported in SI. 

 

Tor got to him first, picked him up and hugged him, and carried him over to me.  He grabbed me and kissed me, before he waved to the crowd.  In my ear he whispered, “Tonight.  We have a date.”

 

The rest of the afternoon is a blur in my mind.  Tim won the overall medal  giving both him and Tor three golds.  Tim also had two silver and two bronze medals.  What a collection.  What a day.  And it wasn’t exactly diminished when the medals were presented by Lady Bird Johnson and Sally Clark, with Chief Justice Hiram Clark offering the first congratulations. 

 

Frank was beside himself.  For the entire week Tim had recognized Frank as his personal coach, and the press picked up on that and wanted to talk to Frank as much as Tor and me.  Frank never tried to take credit for Tim’s successes; he knew that if anyone was self-made it was Tim.  But every time he said something like that he was credited with modesty and his star shone brighter.  Tim’s comments always polished it even more.  When Tim got the final medal–the overall–he called me and Frank up to receive it with him.  Tor was already there to receive the second.  I felt sorry for the poor slob from the University of Kansas who got third.  His was an excellent performance; one that in an ordinary meet would’ve gotten him accolades.  With Tim and Tor doing their thing, he was virtually ignored.  Lady Bird tried her best to acknowledge his performance, but the crowd was only interested in Tim and Tor.  Tim finally left the field house riding on Tor’s shoulders, Vlad, Frank, and me following behind.  The Clark’s hosted dinner that night in a Philadelphia restaurant.  Tor’s stories when he got home would certainly be enhanced by the tale of eating dinner with Lady Bird Johnson as his seat companion!  Tim saw to it that Frank was on the other side of Lady Bird, and more stories were created to be retold back in Grand Forks.

 

Tim and I hadn’t pushed the Gang to make this meet.  In retrospect we should have, because Tim was close to his lifetime best.  But we didn’t realize that as we approached the event.  But Jim, Andy, Kara and Amy had made the trip from Grand Forks, Carl and Carol had come from Bismarck, and Franklin and Phil were there from Kansas.  And though they were more distant members of the Gang, Tina and Merle were still on the membership roster. They were all invited by the Clarks to dine with us, but they decided to decline.  They felt that Tor, Vlad, and Frank would appreciate the opportunity to be the center of attention, and they knew that had they been present, the Gang would’ve been the center of attention.

 

After dinner Frank declined our invitation to come back to the house, saying, “Look, I know what that invitation means, but I’m still your coach.  Sex isn’t appropriate, and we aren’t going to start messing with that rule.  You guys do your thing, I’ll see you in the morning, and then I’m back to North Dakota with Jim, Andy, Carl and their partners.”

 

“Our thing that night for Tim and me was to be by ourselves.  On the other hand, Vlad and Tor couldn’t resist the charms of the Gang, and they asked if they could all have the king size bed.  Tim and I headed for the guest room on the fourth floor.  It was impossible to get a queen size bed up the stairs, and the room wasn’t really big enough for a king, so it had twin beds, but we had no trouble sharing one of them.  I told Tim, “Today you earned whatever you’d like tonight.”

 

“Charlie, I got my rewards at the meet, what would you like tonight?”

 

Honestly, I can say that even today we continue to be that kind to each other.  However, from time to time it is frustrating, and neither of us was willing to state his preferences.  Finally Tim got fed up with the “What would you like?” routine; he grabbed me and sucked me vigorously, not stopping until I came and he’d eaten all of it.  It was clear that he wanted the same thing, and he got it.  Then we slept like babies, spooned together as usual.

 

That left eight for our king size bed, five boys and three girls.  When the boys included Franklin and Phil, you know the bed was crowded.  I’m sure that whatever they did it was fun and loving, but I never heard the details.  When it was time to sleep, Phil and Franklin were pushed onto the floor!

 

The next night Tim and I were alone in the bedroom.  I looked up and noticed two pictures that hadn’t been there before.  The first was a framed charcoal sketch of Tor lifting Tim and kissing his dick.  The second was a similar sketch of Tor, me, Vlad, and Bill standing in the buff, watching Tim.   Merle had had frames ready, and had hung them the night before.

 

We got Merle to send us a copy of the picture with Bill in it.  We had it framed and shipped to Bill.  His note back to us, in addition to grateful thanks, noted that it hung in his bedroom.  “I don’t dare let my editor see it; he’ll insist on publishing it.”  It never was published, but it still hangs in Bill’s bedroom.

To be continued...

 

Posted: 07/18/08