By: Gerry Young

[To DREW in Yorkshire, England, my LOVE for his continued inspiration, encouragement, ceaseless instructions over my hardheadedness, and his determination to help me make this the best that I think it can be, even though I may not have followed all his suggestions to the letter.]

[From Chapter One:]

Tom looked startled and sat up straight.  He glanced away, scratched his chin for a moment, and then with a look of understanding and knowing, looked back at his new friend.  “Gerry … if it’s what I think, happened, it will help if you talk about it … well, talk about it with a … a friend … ya know … get it out in the open … put it behind you … if at all possible.”

“That’s just it, Tom.  I don’t know.”

“What d’ya mean?

“Two weeks ago …” he sat up and looked into those green eyes again, “… I woke up in a hospital in Rockland, Maine, and the doctor told me something that I have absolutely no memory of, at all.”

Tom nodded and said, “Go on, Ger.  What did the doctor tell you?”

Another deep sigh and Gerry answered;  “The doctor told me that I had had surgery.  Rectal surgery.  To repair rips and tears.  From being gang-raped!”

CHAPTER TWO

[This chapter is totally new and has never been posted before.]

“Oh, my God, Ger.  I’m so sorry … so sorry, babe.  Is there anything I can do to help?”

Gerry shook his head in response and gave a deep sigh as he looked upward, unfocused, toward the area where the wall met the ceiling, his eyes darting left and right and back and forth.

The two men said nothing for several minutes.  A pensive silence reigned around them except for the drip-drip…drip-drip…drip-drip coming from the shower area, and the buzzings of a pesky mosquito and at least two flies.

Gerry jerked his head left and right, looking at anything and everything other than at Tom.  His toes and the fronts of his feet were rising and lowering from and to the floor, leaving only his heels in contact with the old inch-square white ceramic tiles stained with age.  His hands were in his lap but his fingertips were in a constant tapping motion.

“What are you thinking, babe?” Tom asked.  “You’re as nervous as hell.  I can see your thoughts are jumping from one thing to another.  What is it, Ger?  Talk to me.”

Gerry was biting his lower lip – almost as if he were scratching it with his upper teeth.  He stopped tapping his fingers, and then he began a slight rocking motion, back and forth, back and forth.  His gaze again returned to the floor.

“Ger…?”

He shrugged his shoulders and fanned his arms and hands out to the sides in the silent, universal language that says, I don’t know.  His hands returned to his lap and he interlocked his fingers.

Gerry stopped all movement;  even his lungs stopped breathing for a few seconds, until his subconscious mind forced him to take a sudden gasp of the needed oxygen.  Slowly he turned his head toward Tom but avoided looking into his eyes.  Rather, he gazed at the small distance between them – at the naked, black wooden bench with its chipped paint.  He began to nod his head, if ever so slightly.

Then, slowly, his eyes moved to Tom’s hands, still pressing the hem of his towel to the bench;  then on to his naked waist and abs, chest and pecs – all with only a smattering of fine blond hair tinged with the palest of reds;  his arms, strong, yet soft in appearance;  his chin, also strong but with a cleft in its center;  his lips, soft and kissable … Did I just think, ‘kissable’? … Oh, my God! … And then he looked into those captivating, green eyes once again.  But this time, he really looked at them, even as he leaned a little closer to Tom.  There’s even gold flecks in them, he thought.  “Umm,” Gerry unconsciously let escape from his throat.

He sat a little more straight, still engrossed in those green pools of golden light, opened his mouth and with a voice barely above a whisper, said, “Tom … you … we … said we’re friends…”

“Yes…” Tom cut him off.

Gerry held up a hand, silently telling him not to say anything.  “Let me finish before you say anything else, please.”  Tom nodded, and Gerry began again.  “We said we’re friends, and I would like that – really like that … if it were only true.  You don’t know me;  I don’t know you.  And because of that … and only because of that … and even as much as I would like to, I don’t know if I can trust you.”

Tom opened his mouth as if to say something, and Gerry held up a finger again before continuing.  “Tom … I’ve been fine since the surgery, but something – I don’t know why – something about being naked and having you against my back – particularly with your arms around me, forcing my arms to my sides, not letting me turn or move, and feeling your … your …” he pointed to the front of Tom’s towel, “… I can’t even say it!  I’m absolutely petrified at … at … something.  I’m sorry for acting like a frightened kid.”  As if offering an apology, he reached out and patted Tom on his naked knee, and left it there.

He had said his piece, and after a moment, Tom asked, “Can I say something now, Ger?”

“Yes.”

‘You mentioned that the doctor told you that you had been brutally raped.”

Gerry nodded. 

“Just a couple minutes ago, I noticed the newly-healed welts across your lower back.  You must have gone through hell, Gerry, and you say you don’t remember any of it?”

Gerry nodded his head in silent agreement.

“From what I’ve learned at work, you’ve blocked that entire horrible experience from your memory.  I’d like for us to be friends, Ger – real friends!  And right now, with you being new in town, you need a friend … one you can trust.  I want you to give me the chance to earn that trust, Ger.”  Tom lightly placed a hand on top of Gerry’s hand, still on Tom’s knee. 

Gerry looked at him and smiled.

“I work at Mariners’ …” Tom began, but was interrupted by another towel-clad man, probably in his late thirties, early forties.  Gerry quickly withdrew his hand from Tom’s knee.

“Well, hellll-ooooo there, gorgeous,” the effeminate man addressed Tom in a girlish sing-song voice, as he bent forward, wiggling his hips, and kissed Tom on the cheek.  The man had deathly-white skin, no eyebrows, and his dyed-black hair was tied in a ponytail that reached the middle of his back.

“Long time no see, lover boy,” the man continued, “and whooooo is this beautiful hunk?” he asked as his eyes devoured Gerry.  “I’ve never seen that bod around here before.”

“My friend and I were just leaving … Mary!” Tom said, standing and moving to the opposite side of the bench.  He held his hand out toward Gerry, and on taking it, Gerry stood, stepped across the bench and joined Tom who put an arm across Gerry’s shoulders.

“Well, excuuuuuuuse me!” the affected man said, one hairless eyebrow raised and his head cocked to one side.  “But stop by the Leather Sling tonight around 10 p.m. and see the new number I’m doing.  I’m stripping down to absolutely nothing, dahling – nothing but my red stilettos!  Quite the show stopper, too, with my squats and bumps and grinds,” he giggled.

Gerry’s eyes grew large in disbelief as he turned his attention from the man to Tom.

“I’ve learned how to push little Pepi up inside and tape him there.  You’d never know I didn’t have a real twat.”

“‘Little Pepi’, is right!” Tom scolded.  “There’s not that much to try to hide, anyway!”

“Awwwww.  You’ve hurt little Pepi’s feelings,” he sniffled and feigned a sob as he groped his own crotch, and as he turned, he ripped off his towel and tossed it to Gerry who just let it fall to the floor.  As he prissed his way to the showers, he wiggled his ass, looked back over his shoulder and said, “Y’all come now, ya hear?  And I do mean … cum.  Ta ta!”  And he was gone.

“Who the hell was that little tornado?” Gerry asked.

Tom laughed and shook his head.  “Just one of our local Drag Queens, Ger.  There’s a new bar down by the waterfront in a seedy part of town, called The Leather Sling, and he’s performing there.  When he’s not on stage, he’s in the sling, offering his ass and his mouth up to anybody and everybody who wants a piece of the action…”

“Sling?  What’s a sling,” Gerry asked?

“You really are new to all this, aren’t you?”

“I guess so,” Gerry shrugged, “but what’s a sling?”

“Well … you’d have to see it in action.  Maybe, if you want me to, I can take you down there sometime, and you can see for yourself.  It’ll open a whole new world to ya.”

“I don’t think I wanna go,” Gerry scowled.  “At least, not yet.”

“That’s okay.  Might be a little rough for you right now.  Maybe sometime in the future.”

“Maybe.”

“Why don’t we go get dressed and I’ll take you out to dinner.” Tom asked as they began walking down the hallway toward Gerry’s room.

“I don’t know, Tom.  I was thinking about…”

“You have any other plans?

“No, not really.”  Gerry wasn’t completely comfortable with Tom’s suggestion.  Not yet.  “I was just gonna walk around a little bit, maybe find a hamburger joint, and grab a bite to eat, then come back, get a newspaper and look at the job opportunities before hitting the sack.”

“Well … my new-found friend … there’s a park not far from here.  We could grab some take-out, go to the park, enjoy the … uhhh … the scenery, and get to know each other a little better.  And I promise not to take advantage of you,” he teased.  “Then, we can come back to the ‘Y’, you can get a paper, and I’ll go on home.

“You really know how to twist a fella’s arm,” Gerry said, smiling at him.  “It sounds nice, particularly since I don’t know where anything is.  “But … uhhh … you’re not…”

“No ‘but’s’ about it, Ger.  I want us to get to know each other.”

“Okay,” he relented;  “I’ll do it;  but I’m paying my own way.  I don’t want to feel obligated.  I hope you understand.”

Tom gave a deep sigh and then said, “Yes, I do understand.  You can really be difficult;  you know that, buddy?”  He laughed, and Gerry joined him.  “But one of these days, I AM gonna have you for dinner.”

Gerry stopped abruptly and stared at Tom.

Tom hesitated, and after a moment, realized what he had said.  He chuckled, and restated, “I mean … I’m gonna invite you over to the house for dinner – I make a mean Veal Parmesan.”

“Oh, damn!  One of my favorites!  Ummmmmm.”  Gerry licked his lips just thinking about the dish.  “That sounds great, Tom … uhhh … how would that go with a Greek Salad … with Anchovies?”

“Anchovies?”

“You don’t like’em,” Gerry almost whined.

“No!  I love Anchovies!  I thought I was the only person in the world who did like’em!”

“No joke?”

“No joke.”

“Great! … uhhh … I guess I just accepted your invitation, didn’t I?”

“I think you just did, babe … errr … Ger,” Tom added, almost as an apology.

“That’s all right … babe.  I kinda like it.”

It was obvious that Gerry was more comfortable with Tom.  Only time would tell where their friendship would go.

<><><> 

About a half-hour later, they met up again in the lobby on the street-floor.  They walked down the hill a few blocks and got some Chinese take-out (instead of the hamburgers as Gerry had mentioned) and a couple of Coca-Colas.  Then they headed up another hill and parked themselves on the grass around Coit Tower, from where they could watch the sun set over the Pacific.

Gerry had a helluva time trying to learn how to use the chopsticks that came with the Chinese food, but Tom was a patient teacher;  it gave him a chance to be ‘up close and personal’ to Gerry, at least.  Eventually, Gerry gave up and used his fingers, as they hadn’t any forks.  After finishing the Chow Mien and Pork Fried Rice, Gerry opened his fortune cookie;  it read, ‘True friendship passes all other acquaintances.’  He looked at Tom and smiled, saying nothing.

The reds, oranges, and golds of the sun setting below the horizon brought a peaceful quiet to the whole world for the two men.  They both leaned back, resting on their elbows on the grassy hillside.  The sea gulls had become quiet, probably nesting for the night.  Most of the ships and boats on the Bay had moored at the wharves;  only a few small sailboats were seen near the middle of the blackish water of the evening.

“Gerry?” Tom asked.  “What kind of work are you gonna be looking for, if you don’t mind my asking.”

“Well … no, I don’t mind … my last civi…” he stopped himself from completing the word;  “… my last job, I was a Surgical Technician in New Awlens, but I’ve been movin’…”

“Surgical Technician?  You mean, Surgical Nurse?”  Tom sat straight up as Gerry nodded.  “You gotta be shittin’ me!”

“No.  Why?”

“‘Cause I’m a Surgical Nurse!”

Hearing this, Gerry sat up.  “No way!”

“Yes, way.  I’m a Surgical Nurse at Mariners’  Hospital, not far from Fisherman’s Wharf.  It’s not a big hospital like San Francisco General, not by any means, but it’s a nice little hospital that’s really been growing over the past few years.”

“No!  Really?”

“Yes!  And you’re not gonna believe this, Ger, but the only other Surgical Nurse – a woman – just quit last week ‘cause she’s gonna have a baby, and wants to stay home full-time after the baby comes, and … here’s the good news … we haven’t even had anybody apply for the position yet.”

“I don’t believe it,” Gerry exclaimed, grinning like a Cheshire Cat.

“Believe it, buddy!  I think the Goddess Destiny is at work here.”

That statement took Gerry aback.  His eyes drifted to the dark expanse of ocean as a … was it a vision?  Or was it just a memory? … as a smiling face began to form in the moonlit clouds above the uncertain horizon. 

“Or a gentle giant of an Angel,” Gerry said softly, his voice catching in his throat, and a tear of happiness beginning to form in his eye.

<><><> 

Within the week, Gerry had procured employment at Mariners’ Hospital, much relieved that his referral from New Orleans failed to mention that he had left to join the Navy. 

He fibbed a little when asked what he had been doing the past nine months – “Having a baby!” he teased Yong Kim, head of Personnel.  And with just as straight a face as Gerry had had, Kim asked, “And how many miscarriages did you have?” just before he grinned and winked.

“Gerald … Arthur … Young …” Kim read aloud from the application form.  He then looked over his glasses with a questioning expression.

Gerry squirmed in his seat, intuitively drawing the conclusion that Kim had noticed his initials.  “I didn’t choose the name,” he responded with some remorse.

“And … if I may ask … are you?  Not that your answer will have any bearing on whether or not you’re hired,” he added.

Gerry closed his eyes as if to block out any malevolent feelings directed his way, and with a sigh of resignation, he lowered his head and nodded.

“It’s okay, Gerry;  most of us here at Mariner’s … are!”

Gerry’s eyes flew open;  his head shot up.  He was aghast at the information.

“Did you notice the inscription over the main entrance?”

“No.”

“Take a look at it when you leave today.  It says, ‘Red and Yellow, Black and White – They are Precious in His Sight.’  In other words, the inscription implies that we have no prejudice here.  We do not discriminate in hiring, nor do we refuse to care for anyone, regardless of race, creed, color, sexual inclination, OR the ability to pay.”

By the time Kim finished speaking, Gerry was beaming;  he felt at home.  “I really want to work here, Mr. Yong,” he said with enthusiasm.

“‘Kim,’ please;  we all go by first names, Gerry – even the doctors.”

No sooner had Kim said the word ‘doctors’, than one walked into the office.  “Good morning, Dr. Bzuzu;  something I can do for you?”

Gerry noticed that Kim also winked at the doctor.

“Good morning, Kim.  Oh, I’m sorry.  Are you in the middle of an interview … I hope?  Gattawonga Dotubuku!” he exclaimed.  “We really need that Surgical Technician this morning;  we’re swamped with emergencies!”

“I think we’ve got just the man for the team,” Kim said, handing Gerry’s application to him.  “Dr. Bzuzu Ungudamu, head of Anesthesia, this is Gerry Young, Surgical Technician from New Orleans,” he introduced the two.  “Gerry … Dr. Bzuzu.”

Gerry stood, turned around and gaped at the giant of a man in white surgical scrubs.  His eyes fell to the man’s enormous feet, and slowly crept up his long legs, huge chest, gorilla-like arms, a beautiful black face with gorgeous chocolate-brown eyes, and a shiny, shaved head, the top of which was more than seven feet from the floor!  Without thinking, Gerry’s eyes shot back down to the doctor’s crotch.  They froze and grew bigger;  they gaped;  they gawked.  And Gerry began to shake.

I’ve got another birthday present for ya, Ger.  Why don’tcha come to the shower room with me, and I’ll give it to you there? he heard Zed’s words in his head.  Will it never end? he silently asked.  Oh, please, Dear God, let it end, he prayed.

Dr. Bzuzu grabbed his arm.  “Here; sit back down, Gerry.  You look as if you’ve just seen a ghost.  Are you all right?”

“Just some memories, Doctor.  I’ll be all right in a few minutes.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Well, in that case, I’ve got to get to Surgery.”  Then he redirected his attention;  “Kim … do whatever you can to fill the position … whatever … and let us know as soon as possible.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“And you, Gerry … you take care of yourself and do whatever you have to, to help calm those memories.  We have several qualified people here who could help you.  I hope everything works out so that we’ll soon see you in scrubs.”

“Thank you, Dr. Bzuzu.”  Gerry stood, somewhat shakily, and shook the doctor’s hand.  “I’ll do my best, Sir.”

“That’s all anyone can ask.”  And with that, the doctor turned and left.

Gerry turned back and said, “Well, I guess I just screwed my chances for getting hired.”

“I wouldn’t say that, exactly – you heard what the doctor ordered.  Have a seat, please.”

Gerry complied, and Kim studied him for a few moments, occasionally looking back over the application and referral.

“I’ve gotta tell you something that’s kinda funny, Gerry.  Dr. Bzuzu is a wonderful man.  We all love him.  He’s from Natal, South Africa, and studied in Oxford.  We lovingly refer to him as our ‘resident Witch Doctor’, and joke with him about his excellence in the use of ‘blow-darts’ when he puts patients under anesthesia.  He’s a very special person, not only to us, but to his own people as well, since his father is Zulu and his mother is Swahili, and he carries the “magic” of both peoples.

Gerry just shook his head in amusement, and chuckled.  

“Now that you’re more relaxed, Gerry, and before we go any further,” Kim continued, “I want to tell you that the referral from New Orleans was excellent.”  Gerry smiled in relief at the report.  “Your work there was exemplary, and personally, I think you’d be a credit to Mariners’.”

“But …?” Gerry interjected.

“But … I get the strong impression that there’s more … something else! … that we should know, before making our decision.”

Gerry hung his head and looked solemn.

Kim continued.  “I noticed your reaction to Dr. Bzuzu when your eyes fixed on his … shall we say … uhhh … his … his bulge!”

Gerry blushed, and Kim chuckled.

“It is quite obvious, even in those baggy scrubs!  We’ve all been taken aback by it at one time or another.  And if you join the Staff, I know that someday, you’ll hear him say that all you can do with it, is to throw it over your shoulder … and … burp it!  He’s not ashamed of it at all, and with one that big, he doesn’t try to hide it.  The old saying, ‘If you’ve got it – flaunt it,’ doesn’t apply to him;” Tom chuckled.  “He couldn’t hide it if he wanted to.  I truly think he’d prefer to go ‘native’ and run around here naked, rather than to have to wear those scrubs.  But it would be against the decency laws, and besides that, nobody’d get any work done ‘cause everybody’d be drooling or fainting or looking at him all the time.”

Gerry roared with laughter at the vision in his head, then, returning to the moment, swallowed with some difficulty and only nodded.

“Off the record … at least for the time being, because if we decide to take you aboard, I’m going to recommend counseling during your stay here, and if my suspicions are correct, the information revealed at that time will then go into your file.  Well, as I said before, off the record for now, I wanna ask you a personal question.”

Gerry looked at him.  He knew what the question would be.  What’ve I got to lose? he asked himself.  “All right,” he replied, somewhat discouraged.  And then the big question hit.

“Gerry … have you ever been abused … sexually?”

A long moment of silence followed.  Gerry squirmed in his seat, and beads of perspiration broke across his forehead.

As best he could, Gerry told Kim everything – or as much as he could remember.

The telling took nearly half an hour, and when the conversation was finished … really finished … Kim asked, “How soon can you come in for a routine employment physical exam?”

“You mean …?”  He was overjoyed.

“I see no reason why … with counseling … and if the exam doesn’t indicate anything negative … you couldn’t start work sometime later this week.  Would tomorrow morning be convenient for you to come in for the exam?”

“YES!” Gerry enthusiastically fisted the air.

“Nice fist, by the way,” Kim remarked with another wink, and an affected cock or the head, wriggling his eyebrows and with a shit-eatin’ grin!

Gerry frowned and, with head cocked to one side, looked at Kim, not understanding the reference to his fist.

“Just a bit of my sick humor,” Kim offered.

“Maybe you can explain it to me, sometime.”

“Maybe.”

<><><> 

Also during that first week in The City (as many referred to San Francisco), Gerry had also moved into Tom’s old but renovated Victorian-style home in the Haight-Ashbury section.  Their rooms were next to each other on the upper floor, and they would be sharing the bath across the hall.

The day he went for his first interview, Gerry had thought it strange that he saw no female employees at Mariners’;  Tom had mentioned nothing about the apparent segregation, and when he came home from work that evening, Gerry asked about it.

“Mariners’ was founded about seventeen years ago as a small clinic right on the waterfront, to help and care for sailors and seamen who were injured or sick.”

“Interesting.”

“And since that time, it’s grown to include not only the building you were in today, with an all-male Staff, but it now includes Women’s Hospital on the south side of town, with an all-female Staff, and Little Angels’ Hospital, just outside The Presidio, up at the north end of the peninsula, with a mixed Staff.”

“Oh, I love it, Tom;  I really love the idea.  I can’t wait to get started working there!”

“Then you got the job?” Tom asked, with a huge smile.

“Well … not yet, but almost!  I go in tomorrow morning for my physical, and if everything’s okay, all I have to do is sign the necessary forms.”

“That’s wonderful, babe!”  Tom exclaimed.

<><><> 

After Monday’s interview and Tuesday’s physical exam, Gerry was hired and began work on Thursday.  His schedule dictated that his days-off would be Tuesday and Wednesday, while Tom would have Saturday and Sunday off;  thus, they had no full days-off together – only their evenings.

Their friendship grew deeper, and as Gerry attended his scheduled counseling sessions with the Staff Psychologist, he became more comfortable around Tom.

They had begun regular workout sessions at the ‘Y’, running the track, swimming, and lifting weights.  Little by little, Gerry learned to enjoy having Tom scrub his back for him, just so long as Tom didn’t hug him from behind.

Over time, their friendship evolved to include some intimacy – holding hands, snuggling, some light kissing, even sleeping together.  But Gerry was still uncomfortable when Tom would spoon against his back.  More than once, Gerry would wake up during the night, only to feel Tom spooned against him with an obvious hardon against his ass.  He’d get up and return to his own room, but would toss and turn the remainder of the night, getting very little sleep.

“I love you, Ger,” Tom said, one night as their hands were roaming over each other’s naked bodies.  It was the first time the ‘L’ word had been used between them.

“I love you, too,” Gerry said in a brotherly tone.

“No;  I mean I really love you – I think I’m falling in love with you, Ger but I …”

“Shhhhh…” Gerry placed a finger over Tom’s mouth.  “I think I feel the same way.”

They both were lying on their sides facing each other, and their hardons were evident to each other.

“I know we both have needs …” Gerry continued, “… and I know that you want more than what I’ve been willing to give … up to this point!”

Tom started to say something, but Gerry shushed him again as he planted a kiss on his lips, rolled him onto his back, and lay on top of him.

What ensued brought them both to a passionate, simultaneous climax, rubbing their bodies together.

Gerry slid over onto his side again, and looked into Tom’s beautiful green eyes.  “Whew!  That was good.”  They kissed again.

“Yeah, but messy,” Tom added, with a laugh.  He jumped up, ran to the bathroom and returned with towel in hand, and began wiping Gerry’s body and then his own.  After dropping the towel to the floor, he got back in bed and began kissing Gerry’s body, from his lips and neck to his pecs, abs and crotch.  Their erections rose to the excitement again.

Tom straddled Gerry’s waist, putting a knee on either side of his hips, and lowered his ass to Gerry’s crotch.

Immediately Gerry went limp.  He covered his eyes with his right forearm and began pounding the mattress with his left fist.  He was on the verge of tears.

“Awww, babe, what is it?  What’s wrong?” Tom begged, rolling off to the side and hugging Gerry to his own chest.  He, too, had instantly lost his arousal.

“I’m sorry;  I’m so sorry.”

“About what?”

“I just can’t do it.”

“Do what?”

“I think … when you sat on me … I suddenly got the feeling that you wanted me to … to … to enter  you … to … to fuck you!”  His hands were shaking badly against Tom’s back, and his voice was quivering.

“I would love it if you would, Ger;  really, I would!  I’ve been wanting it ever since we first met.”  Tenderly, he gave Gerry a kiss on the lips.

Gerry pushed him away, saying, “But I can’t.  I just can’t … can’t … fuck you.”

“Why not, babe?  I want you to.”  Suddenly, a realization must have come to him, because he sat up, and softly asked, “Is it because of what happened to you in Maine?”

“I don’t know.  I don’t know.  Maybe,” Gerry answered.  “Like I told ya before, I don’t remember anything about the rape, but the doctor told me how badly I’d been ripped and torn, and Tom …” his chest -- and in fact, his entire body – began to convulse more and more with each of the words that followed, “… I don’t want to do that … to cause that pain and damage to you … or to anyone … but, especially not to you.”

The whole bed was shaking with the power of Gerry’s convulsive sobs.

“Oh, Gerry, Gerry, Gerry,” Tom said, as he hugged him tighter yet, trying to console him.  “I understand, now, babe;  I understand.  God!  I could just kill whoever did that to you, babe.”

They lay there, holding each other … silently looking into each other’s eyes for a long time.  Gerry became calm once again, and relaxed.  His eyes closed and his breathing became slower.

Tom slowly removed Gerry’s arm from across his own side and back, and, as gently as possible, turned over and spooned himself against Gerry’s chest and crotch before reaching back to pull Gerry’s arm once again over his side.  He placed Gerry’s warm hand against his own chest, over his heart, and placed his own hand on top of Gerry’s.

Softly, Gerry spoke.  “If you did that, you’d be worse than him.”

“Huh?” Tom asked, looking back over his shoulder.  “I thought you were asleep.”

“If you killed him, you’d be worse than the rapist.”  He took a deep, slow sigh, and as he exhaled his warm breath onto the back of Tom’s neck, Tom raised Gerry’s hand to his mouth, and softly kissed his palm … again and again and again.

TBC

From the author:

Dear Reader,

If you’ve gotten this far and are reading this note, I want to express my sincere thanks for your staying through these emotionally difficult chapters.  Not being a professional, my words, thoughts, and style and content of writing may have gnawed at your better judgment, and if so, I sincerely apologize for that.

But any rape, any sex without mutual consent, whether heterosexual or homosexual, or whether adult/pre-pubescent, or human/bestial, is horrendous and de-humanizing in my humble opinion.  Privacy has been violated.  Physical, mental, and emotional damage has been done, leaving scars lasting a lifetime – scars that seldom, if ever, are completely healed.

But as the author, I promise that much happier times are ahead for Gerry.  Please, I pray you, don’t give up on the story, as surprises abound in the forthcoming chapters.  New highs will be reached, a few lows will be tackled and overcome, and a few old friends will reappear … quite unexpectedly! I can assure you.

To the few of you who have written to me, I sincerely appreciate and thank you for your kind words and encouragement;  they have made my struggles seem worthwhile.

Gerry Young