The Kid, part one>>>

I was a bit pissed, though, that he had just decided to show back up when he had left so abruptly before. He said that he wanted to make sure I was not “being abused.” Of all people, I would have thought he would know I wasn’t about to let that happen. I may not have been a large person, but I was much more intelligent than most of my conquests, at least in the ways of what I was doing. The “street sense” if you will. I was pretty bright in other things, too, if I do say so myself. And, let us not forget how I could use my looks to get WHATEVER I wanted. Oh, have I said that before? Oops.

Anyway, we decided to go back to his apartment, which was actually his without a roommate, at least to my knowledge. He told me of his trials and tribulations since the last time we were together, which I didn’t really care to hear, and got down to business. What? I was sixteen. You all know a guy of that age can go all night if need be, AND that’s all we think about. By the time we were done, I was tired. He wanted to talk, which I let him do, and just wanted to leave the earth for a while and float around in my own world, which I did, nodding and making yes or no sounds when appropriate. I finally fell asleep half listening to him and half beginning to plan my attack on my dude.

One of things I liked best, regarding my abilities, was that I could, “take off,” from wherever I was if something that I didn’t really care for was happening. It was not like what they call astral projection because I was still there so to speak. I could kind of go to a place that wasn’t really anywhere. People and surroundings were still there but my mind allowed me to idealize them. They would be with me though more as a voice within my own head than a real person. I was then able to set my mind on automatic, thereby allowing folks to think I was still intently listening to their inane babble. What a bunch of morons.

My plan was really basic. I mean it didn’t take rocket science to figure out what I could do to fuck with this guy. The thing was… I didn’t really want to do it the legal way. I also really didn’t have any urge to keep it going for very long, either. The fact that I didn’t really care about anybody worked both ways. I didn’t love the man, nor did I hate him. What I really wanted was to find a way to ensure that he would leave me alone and get on with his life. Again, it had nothing to do with what I wanted for him, this time, but more for my own selfish interests. In other words I wanted him to get the FUCK off my dick and go find someone else to perseverate over.

I had already begun by saying what I had said while leaving the house. The second part was standing out in his yard with the college boy for five minutes or so. Now I had to formulate a plan that would either anger him so badly, or scare him enough, that he would think it was his idea to stay away. That was going to be more difficult but not impossible. I had, after all, made sure he wanted me way back at the beginning when I was basically posing for him while doing my flips and shit. I knew just the thing.

Since he had often made comments about how I was only using him, duh, I would do just that but take it up a notch or five. I called him that very night just to see if he would answer the phone, which he did after about seven rings. I actually thought his answering machine would pick up but he must have even turned that off.

I expected him to start bitching as soon as he heard my voice, which, shockingly, was not the case. Instead he just sounded tired. He said that he no longer wanted me to call him and that I had to find someone else from whom to, “suck the life out of,” his words not mine, but I must admit they were pretty powerful. I was momentarily taken aback, but then I realized what had transpired just a short time before. I said I needed gas in my car and he said he didn’t really care. I then did what always had worked before and hung up on his ass. Normally, he would call back within two minutes or so, therefore, I waited. No fucking call came.

I must have been visibly annoyed because I suddenly “felt” an intense stare coming from my college boy. I had honestly almost forgotten I was still at his place but had never really registered I was using someone else’s stuff to make calls and the like. Now THAT was the weird part of my taking off ability. He wanted to know what was going on to which I replied that it was none of his fucking business. Of course, it WAS his business as it was his place, but I wasn’t going to let him know I knew that. He called me a couple of choice names like “asshole, little shit, cocky mother-fucker,” and others. So I called him a child molester and left, slamming the door. The last look on his face was one of utter shock. I had hit him where it hurt and knew it, now THAT was fun.

I decided, since I had a bit of adrenaline flowing, to drive back over to my guy’s place. I didn’t really plan on doing anything at all. I just wanted to sit there and figure out WHAT exactly I was going to do next. I watched the drive, not really able to see the house, and noticed the windows lighting up and shutting off going from living room to bedrooms and back again. He may have been trying to act like a hard-ass, but he was not showing that. In fact, his mental state was such that I didn’t know whether or not it was worth my time to even work on him. I figured he would probably send himself over the proverbial edge as quickly as I could, BUT I just couldn’t let that show of physical anger go. That was something I promised myself I would never allow.

I waited until I saw that the living room light was off for about five minutes before I moved. In order to ensure that no one saw me get out, I rolled down the window and climbed out Dukes of Hazzard style. I slowly walked through the various trees and shrubs toward the house. I took a calm tour around the house and decided to lightly tap the windows and doors until I was sure he had begun to hear at least something. I know how cruel this sounds, but the fucker deserved it. He may have doted on me and given me what I wanted, but he still got everything he wanted as well. I mean, in truth, how many older guys DREAM of having a young boy in their bed? I can’t even begin to tell you how many google eyed stares I had had in my sixteen years.

After about ten minutes of rattling windows and doorknobs, I got bored and just left. I knew I would talk to him soon enough, but for now, I had done what I set out to do. It was time to set my sights on something else. I was somewhat adrift at that point due to the fact that I had just set my college boy adrift again after such a short reunion AND I had, maybe not completely burned, charred a bridge to my guy. It suddenly hit me that I didn’t really have anywhere else to go. I might actually have to go stay with my mother for the first time in years. It was not that I hadn’t been there off and on, but I ALWAYS had somewhere else more inviting. Damn!

At about 3 am one morning, the one after all of the above happened, I arrived at her door, at least I thought it was her door because it had been a couple of weeks earlier, and knocked. No one answered at first. After about five minutes, a light went on at the next townhouse. I stood quietly, hoping against hope that the neighbor would just go back to bed, or go on about his or her business. Of course that wasn’t going to happen in my world. No, not in my world! The light above the door came on illuminating their steps and those on both sides, which included those on which I stood. I could see a pair of eyes peering out through the curtains to the left of the door. They were dark and large and incredibly bright looking. The next thing I knew, I was waving in that general direction.

The door very cautiously and quietly opened and out walked a beautiful specimen of humanity. At first I could tell neither gender nor age, but I was pretty sure it was male and of about my age or possibly younger. The person motioned me to itself making sure I knew it wanted me to be as soundless as possible. I stood there dumbfounded for a few seconds, probably because it almost seemed like I was in some kind of Hollywood dream sequence, then forced myself to move.

He took my hand and led me into his lair, I’m telling you, that was exactly how it felt. I immediately felt both incredibly uncomfortable AND supremely at peace. I know such oxymoronic feelings make no sense, but… Anyway, he spoke and I had an image of Michael Jackson. His voice was very light and incredibly smooth. His coloring was that of lightly creamed coffee and his skin was absolutely flawless. Yes, I had determined the person was male only because I saw the huge bulge in his shorts.

He told me he knew who I was because he had heard about me from my mother. He also told me that they DID still live there, but would be gone for a few days. I stopped him because he used the word, “They,” which was something I did not know. He told me that my mother had taken on yet another of her men and that she and he had been forced to go somewhere to, “lay low,” so to speak. That meant there were probably drugs or some such involved, probably drugs. He continued to tell me about his knowledge of me, which was, again in that semi-oxymoronic manner, both exhilarating and off-putting at the very same time. This dude was going to be a trip, BUT my questions of earlier in the morning had been answered. It was time for the next step in this thing I called my life.

It turned out that my mother and her sleep-in had been picked up by the Cleveland Police for, among other things, “lewd and lascivious acts,” in public. Knowing how she was, THAT could have meant anything from flashing her tits to actually going down on some guy, or chick for that matter, in the middle of the street. I must say I was intrigued. There was nothing, by this time in my life, she could have done to shock me, but I was definitely intrigued. It also turned out that “having to lay low” was no more than spending a night or two in the old pokey. The next morning at around eleven thirty I heard them attempting to enter her humble abode. I snickered to myself and turned back over before realizing I wasn’t quite sure where I was or how I had gotten there.

Lying on my back, my right hand fell upon a warm body. I slowly turned in that direction, almost afraid of what I might see, and beheld that vision from the previous night, or earlier that morning I should say. I realize the sound of this is quite Puritanical or even Biblical, but the words seem to fit. It came flooding back to me. The entire night and its excitement hit me with full force. I had burned some bridges, played some nasty human games, hurt a couple of people, and finally ended up here at the neighbor of my mother’s house. I remembered coming inside as if it were a dream. Well, guess what? I wasn’t a fucking dream. Here I was and I was ready for whatever that meant. But, first, I needed to find out what happened to my only true family.

I walked next door to and went right in, the door was unlocked, shockingly enough. The two of them were huddled over the small kitchen table and looked up when I walked through the door. He had a look of drugged-out semi-shock, while she went right back to her line as if no one else were in the room. He started to say something but she pulled him back down to the little mirror between them. After a few snorting sounds and a finger to the upper gums, my mother finally acknowledged my presence. She toddled over and gave me a big, albeit frail feeling, hug. It felt as if she were nothing but bone, which was not surprising considering she had just gotten out of jail and the first thing on her mind, beyond even locking the front door, was to do a line or six. She asked how I had been and what I had been doing. She rambled on about her new man and what he was like. She started telling me about her latest score when suddenly she realized I was standing there. It is not that she didn’t know it was me, but it was actually ME she was talking to. We hadn’t really seen each other much in the past few months and when we had it had been for a very short time with stilted conversation. We loved each other immensely but I didn’t like her whorish ways and had never felt the need to hold back my feelings (not that I had any room to talk but at least I DID know what I was talking about).

After her initial shock had worn off, I was finally able to ask her about her latest run-in with the wonderful Cleveland PD. She explained that she and her latest were in front of Circus Circus in The Flats, when they had gotten some coke and were about to crouch down to do a line. Someone had noticed the cops so she reached into his pants to deposit her stash. Because she was already a bit tipsy, she fell into him knocking him to the ground. Being the way she was, she took the initiative and decided to pull down his zipper and jerk him off right then and there. She “forgot” about the cops that were supposedly right there, so, as she was moving her head down to blow him, the police tapped her on the shoulder and asked her to kindly get up. (Yes, I am embellishing this a bit I’m sure, but it sounds good, right?) Being the nice woman that she is, my mother yelled at him to get away and he yanked her up by her armpits. She flailed around for a few seconds then was thrown into the back of the car. Luckily for them, her friend had lost the stash, he thought, while they were, “playing.” Since he was part of the entire scene, he was brought to the justice center and thrown in jail with her for the night.

Although that was not the exact scenario I had envisioned, it was pretty damned close. After about an hour, I could no longer stand the sight of her snorting line after line and drinking like the proverbial fish, so I made my way back to the boy. Before I even got to the door he had it open and was standing there awaiting my return. I remember thinking how cute he looked at that precise moment. His eyes were just a bit lidded due to sleep but were still huge and more sparkling than any diamond I had ever seen. His beauty just may have even surpassed my own, though of course I would never admit such a thing in public, or to ANYONE else for that matter.

When I crossed the threshold, I thought about one of the things that had just come back to me from the previous night. It was my understanding that I had to be quite so as not to awaken his family, but here he was with the door wide open wearing nothing but a flimsy pair of silk boxers. AND he was not doing anything to attempt to be silent. In fact, he was in the kitchen banging pans around while trying to make breakfast, I guess. There were eggshells all over the counter and a pan spitting a bubbling on the stove. There were onionskins on the floor, a mound of cheese on a paper plate and something that resembled sausages on another plate much too near the flame of the gas burner. Although I wasn’t afraid he would get hurt per se, I did not want to see that beautiful skin marred in any way, so… I stepped in to help.

While cooking and laughing, I found out quite a bit about him, without really asking much of anything. His background seemed to be a lot like mine, but some things were glaringly different. He had two parents, both of whom he knew, and actually had some money while growing up. He was a societal outcast. His looks had caused people to immediately fall in love with him, on one side of the coin, and others hate him without any more cause. His relationship with his family was strained, but he had an extended family, which I did not. Hell, I didn’t even know any of my supposed people. That was where things started splitting apart.




It turned out that my new-found friend pretty much had the house to himself. Both parents were travelers who happened to have been out of the country at the time. He had been known as a very capable and mature kid therefore they left him home to fend for himself quite a bit. The reason, I had the feeling I was supposed to have been quiet the previous night was that he was on the phone with his mother from London and hadn’t yet finished the conversation. I, admittedly hadn’t seen any phone or had any inking of such a conversation, but, then again, there were still quite a few things I hadn’t been able to piece together. He told me about his schooling, which was, surprisingly to me at that time, private. In fact he went to one of the best schools in the area, University School which I believed to be in Shaker Heights. Most people called it US, which I had always equated with the Jackie Gleason Character in the movie “The Toy.” You know what I’m talking about. The one where his ditzy trophy wife always called him something that sounded more like, “You ass.” Anyway, that was another reason he stayed home. Although they could have afforded a tutor and such, they allowed him to make the decision. He had said that he was in eleventh grade and would probably be able to graduate in less than a year.

For myself, the only reason I even stayed in school was to look at those I wanted to see, and to keep myself under the radar of the truancy morons. I took off as much as I possibly could without having to see whomever it was that week that would make my life miserable. You all know I liked the older guys, but there was always some time for a cute burn-out or jock, if the mood hit. Especially if he was supposedly straight. I never had more fun than when I could get a straight guy to beat me off then let me suck his dick. It was a phenomenal ploy, which made people stay away from me. I know I am digressing, but this is something that I have to talk about right now.

I would scope out a potential victim, this, mind you, had been going on since I was in junior high, and go on the prowl. Once I found someone who exuded a perceived power within his particular group, I would “clandestinely” stalk him until he finally noticed (Obviously I wasn’t too sneaky, because as you know by now I was pretty damned good at getting what I wanted). Usually I would get called a faggot or pussy or something else derogatory, which never bothered me in any way. He usually said it loud enough to ensure someone else could hear. Then I would closely watch his eyes. Now, you have to realize that I didn’t always know whether or not my ploy would work, but most often it did. Anyway, once I got him to acknowledge me, things became easier.

I would begin to show up places where I could be relatively sure he was going to be without whatever entourage he may have had during the school day. I also made sure I never even looked at him while at school, because I had done that once early on and it ended badly with me having a black eye and some very untoward bruises, though all in all I had still gotten what I had wanted. My conquest, I know I may have overused the word but nothing else quite fits so get over it, would finally begin to break. I realize this sounds like a long process, but in truth it usually took less than a week to get to the place I needed. When I had finally broken down his defenses to the point where he would talk to me for a decent length of time, I knew he was mine. Something I found interesting was the fact that almost every one of the dudes originally wanted to meet somewhere they knew well. I invariably had to remind them that they did not want anyone to know they were hanging with me, at which time they more often than not said that there was no way they would ever, “hang with me.” But, I had made my point. Then a funny thing would happen. The most outwardly poised person, at least within his group and around the school, would become a blubbering idiot. So, I began to take over, not that I hadn’t been in charge since the beginning.



I always suggested a place I had been going without problem since I was quite young and exploring things with my neighbors. You know what I mean by things by now, I am sure. There was this park right on Lake Erie that had a beautiful copse of trees near the northwestern end. In the summer, the leaves were so full it was as if you went into another world when within. It was a perfect place for the proverbial midnight rendezvous. I even had my own spot where in the past I had never been discovered.