The Hook, For Real Part Three>>>

The conversation was something one would have written in some Shakespearean soliloquy, but it was wonderful to me. I asked, again, what he was doing and he told me he only wanted to be alone.. I backed off at that, though I felt my place was to stay (which meant that I would be there if he wanted me). In a minute, (although a minute means different things to different folk), he asked me to come down near him. Obviously he knew I had not left and did not play the game suggesting that I should.

I moved from my, "sneaky," perch and went to him. My entire body was shaking with desire and anticipation. This incredible person had requested, no required, my presence within his realm without any of his "normal friends." What juvenile queer could have asked for anything more??? No one, in my eyes. The object of my obsession began to speak to me, all the while actually asking things about ME. I had no idea of how to correctly respond. The biggest worry was that I might make some kind of huge faux pas, even though no one in my(our) crowd knew what that was, but the fear was still there. This guy was the, "ultimate," according to ALL the girls in the neighborhood.

That fateful evening was something from a dream to me now. He began talking about how things had, "gotten weird," where his friends had been concerned. He told me that we could never be seen together, but he DID want to be around me. He then leaned over closer to me and put his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his body heat. I could feel the warmth, of his breath upon my neck and even the beat of his heart. The next thing I knew he bent his head down and began, very lightly, kissing my left ear. Although this was my plan, my own heart began racing. I had made my first genuine conquest and, shit, I was excited. One thing led to another and I got what I wanted. You can use your imagination to figure out exactly what that was.

For the next few weeks we met up constantly, but under the cover of night. The best thing about this was that I was no longer picked on, as much, like it had happened before. The idiots would always be idiots, and my current obsession could only do so much without looking like he was doing something, BUT it was working to my advantage for the most part.

One night, as we were in the throes of passion, mind you I was becoming a bit bored with the entire thing, we heard steps, kind of sneaky sounding, on the top of the cliff. I knew that the proverbial jig was up, and I think he did, too. He walked away and started saying things meant to hurt my feelings. I really didn't care because, I was sure that whomever was above had already seen something he or she had wished not to see. He left me sitting alone on the beach and that was the last time we had any kind of relationship. BUT, I was never bothered by that group again. They never picked on me in any way, nor even acknowledged I was alive. That, my friends, yeah like I have any friends, was exactly what I had planned. Damn, was I getting good.