Yanking the comforter from my bed, grabbing my pillow, I stomped downstairs to the den.
I flopped down on the sofa, still wearing my dress pants, and wrapped the bedspread around me and stared at the ceiling. My mind reeled with disjointed thoughts. My God, Brad is sick! My best friend is a homo! What will people say if they find out? What do I do? Oh God! I let him stick his tongue in my mouth! I could have stopped him. I let him French kiss me! Oh my God! What if I’m a homo, too? Mom’s wrong! It’s contagious! I caught this from Brad. I’ve been around him too much and now he’s made me like him. We’re both homos! Oh God! Oh God! I can’t be gay. I like girls!
I took a deep breath, trying to get a grip on myself. Okay, Shawn, you were just horny. That’s it. Tabitha got you all worked up and you confused Brad with Tabitha. You got excited from the kiss because you were thinking about Tabitha.
I flipped over on my stomach and my mind raced back to one night last year when I woke up at three a.m. and turned my head toward Brad, who was lying on his back next to me. Unable to go back to sleep, I propped my head up and observed the mesmerizing movement of his chest rising and falling. Reaching out my hand, I cautiously placed it upon his chest and felt his heartbeat. He felt so warm and alive. I slipped my hand between the buttons of his pajama top and felt his smooth, soft skin over his hard muscle. He moved and I quickly pulled my hand away. Looking down, I saw I was completely excited by touching Brad. What was I thinking?
I flipped back over onto my back and put the pillow over my face and screamed into it. No, Shawn, you like girls, you know you do. Brad crossed a line that should have never been crossed. Our friendship is over.
Wednesday, October 31, 1973 (Halloween)
Dear Journal,
It’s been a while since I’ve last written. Honestly, I haven’t felt much like writing. The past four days have been miserable. I’ve lost my best friend, but I had no choice. He crossed a line of friendship into a place that’s just plain WRONG. Sunday, when I woke, Brad had gone. I guess he walked home during the night or early Sunday morning. I’ve deliberately avoided him at school since then. I’ve seen him hanging around Gordy Harold and his former football teammates from Junior High a few times. Yesterday, he sat on the opposite side of the cafeteria at a table by himself. Matt asked me a couple of times what’s up with me and Brad. I lied to him and told him it’s a disagreement over a game. Matt isn’t called “The Mouth” for nothing. Lord knows what would happen if he knew the truth. I don’t even want to think about it. I haven’t seen Tabitha the past few days. Someone said she has the flu. I certainly hope I don’t get it, seeing she probably spread her germs all over me. Matt told me that Brad has been getting pats on the back from the guys who heard what he did to Penny after the dance. I’ve heard the terms “ladies’ man” and “stud” being floated around. Boy, talk about irony. There are so many questions racing through my mind. Why didn’t I stop him? I could have! Penny slapped him immediately when he touched her. I didn’t. I thought about talking to Mom about it, but she might tell Dad and that terrifies me. Dad has been back in town since Sunday. His trip to Mexico City got cancelled.
Mom has been asking why Brad hasn’t been over as usual. I told her the same lie I told Matt. She was surprised and mentioned the fact that we’ve never spent a Halloween apart since we’ve known each other. She and Dad decided to throw a Costume Party tonight for some of their friends. She said since I had no plans, I could help her with the party. Adult parties are so bogus. All people do is stand around talking about investments and their jobs. Even their costumes are bogus. I mean seriously, there were three couples that came to the party dressed as Sonny and Cher. Talk about a cliché. Luckily, I was able to slip away with a bottle of Vodka before they started dancing. I overheard my dad’s boss inviting all of us down to his penthouse in Manhattan for the weekend. I hope we go because I need a break from all this.
~ Shawn
Chapter Five
The glass elevator rose just above the New York skyline as we passed the twenty-first floor. I glanced at the porter dressed in his formal red uniform before gazing off in the distance at the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center towering above all the other skyscrapers in view.
My dad pointed. “You know, George is trying to get us office space on the 101st floor of the North Tower.”
“Far out!” My eyes lit up at the thought of my dad actually getting an office in the newly opened marvel of human engineering.
“You kids and your slang.” Dad chuckled as I stared up at this man I admired so much.
“Now, Frank, remember when you used to say everything was boss?” Mom crinkled her eyes.
“Uh huh.” Dad put his arm around me, patting my shoulder. “You need a haircut, Boy.” He tousled my hair before pulling his arm away.
“Yeah, Dad, you remind me every day.” I grinned at him.
I knew this little battle we had going back and forth was his way of showing he loved me. My dad was truly my hero. Even though he was gone more than half the time, he spent every moment he had off at home with me and Mom. While many of his collogues spent their time off playing golf or going on fancy hunting trips, my dad was hanging around the house fixing things. Even though he could easily afford to hire it done, he liked to do it himself. He and I went to the movies together, went hiking, and like me, Dad was a swimmer. He and I often raced in the pool and he won over half the time. In high school, he won the state championship for diving two years in a row. For someone who was over forty, my dad was in great shape. I only hoped when I got to his age I would be, too.
Our focus shifted to the doors as the private elevator came to a sudden stop. I glanced at the buttons to the right of the door and noticed the lit “P” for penthouse went off. The door began opening and thoughts of spending the weekend being waited on by servants increased my excitement. Even though I had met my Dad’s boss many times, this was my first time visiting his Manhattan penthouse. He owned an enormous beach house in Cape Cod I had been to several times, but this was my first visit to his main residence.
The doors pulled back, revealing a set of red carpeted stairs leading to a pair of ornate wooden doors at the top. The phrase “rolling out the red carpet” popped into my mind and I wondered if this was a bit of Mr. Logan’s tongue-in-cheek humor. The porter ushered us forward.
“This way, sirs. Madam,” he greeted warmly, and motioned with his arm rather dramatically toward the stairs in front of us.
Climbing the steps, I glanced behind me when the sound of the elevator doors closed and the attendant disappeared.
“That guy looked like the waiter that kept getting our orders wrong in that hotel in Barcelona last year,” I commented.
Dad laughed. “I thought the same thing.”
I recalled it took three times for him to get us the correct orders. The hotel owner finally intervened after Dad complained.
“I felt rather sorry for him the way the owner flogged him with a napkin,” Mom added.
“I thought it was hilarious. What was his name? Manuel?” I asked.
“Sí.” Dad pressed the ornate doorbell.
A few moments later, the door opened and a very distinguished gentleman opened the door. He sported silver hair, green-checkered golf pants, and a white button-up shirt, and he held a whiskey in his hand.
“Frank,” he greeted very enthusiastically.
Dad shook his hand. “George.”
“Hello, George. Good to see you again.” Mom greeted as Mr. Logan gave her a quick hug.
“And how are you, young man?” Mr. Logan gripped my hand firmly to the point I wanted to wince, but this was Dad’s boss and I certainly didn’t want to give the impression that I was weak, so I squeezed tightly and put my best face forward.
“I’m fine, sir.”
“Come on into the den and have a drink.” He motioned causally for us to follow.
As we entered the den, I took in the surroundings. Dark wood paneling lined the wal
ls with various large paintings spaced evenly around the room. The floor was covered in yellow shag carpeting, and a very modern-style blue sofa with matching chairs occupied the center of the room. On the far side sat a bar with a well-stocked supply of liquor bottles filling the shelves behind it.
Interrupting my visual exploration of the lavish den, a beautiful older lady in a long-flowing blue evening gown stood up from the sofa.
“Mary, Frank,” she greeted with a smile, “so good to see you again.” She spoke in a very posh British accent. Mom and Dad moved to greet her in return.
Diverting my attention from the greetings, a beautiful young blonde entered from the adjacent room. Immediately, my heart began racing as my eyes zoomed to her large breasts that made even Mrs. Peterson’s mounds look like molehills. The loose-fitting peasant shirt did nothing to hide the fact this beauty was stacked. Her curvaceous form and long hair that hung past her knees made my heart skip a beat. I felt a tingling below that I hadn’t felt since the night Brad kissed me.
“Susan,” Mr. Logan said. “You remember Mr. and Mrs. Stuart?”
“Yes, Daddy,” she replied with a smile then addressed the new arrivals. “It’s been a long time.”
“Why, Susan, I haven’t seen you since you were in pig tails.” My mom crinkled her eyes at her.
Just then it occurred to me; this was Mr. Logan’s daughter. My mind flashed back to a time when I was around seven or eight, playing with her at my parents’ condo in the Bahamas. I remembered she was a couple of years older than me at the time. She and I had a blast that weekend, swimming and building sandcastles on the beach. She was a sliver of a girl then; she definitely wasn’t one now.
“Aren’t you in college now?” Mom asked.
“Yes, ma’am. I just started my first year at Harvard, majoring in fine arts,” she said before her eyes suddenly shifted to me. Her face lit up. “Shawn? Oh my God.” She put her hand across her chest excitedly. “Is that you?”
My smiled broadened. “Hi, Susan,” I said.
“Oh my God,” she repeated as she unexpectedly rushed over and grabbed me in a hug. “You’ve grown up!” She squeezed me, her bosom pressing against my chest.
“So have you,” I managed to mumble before she let go of me.
Mr. Logan laughed. “I didn’t know if you two would remember each other.”
“Yes, Daddy. In the Bahamas.” She looked to him. “I was probably around…ten or eleven.” She tapped her finger on her chin.
“Ah…that’s right.” Mr. Logan took a sip of his toddy. “Back in ’66. We had just closed that deal with AeroGen.” He eyeballed Dad. “That turned out to be quite a little money-maker, didn’t it Frank?” he said with a sly grin.
“After we installed new navigation control systems in their planes and brought them out of the Stone Age.” My dad laughed as the butler handed him his whiskey sour.
Susan stood back and looked me up and down. “How old are you now?”
“Fifteen,” I answered, remembering she was a couple of years older than me.
“Fifteen.” She paused. “Far out.”
She stood silently checking me out. Of course, I was doing the same to her; only I was being more subtle about it. Finally, Mrs. Logan spoke.
“Susan, dear, why don’t you show Shawn to his room and perhaps give him a tour of the penthouse?” she suggested.
“Which bedroom, Mother?”
“I had his luggage sent to the Mediterranean room,” Mrs. Logan answered as she sipped her martini.
“Yes, Mother,” Susan said as she turned back and motioned for me to follow. I fell in behind her as we headed for the stairs in the foyer.
Climbing them, I couldn’t help checking out Susan’s butt. It was plump, round, and pressed tightly into her hip-hugger jeans. The thought occurred to me that she probably had every guy at Harvard chasing after her.
We wound through the mazes of hallways before we arrived at a set of double wooden doors. She looked back at me and grinned before pushing them open.
She stepped inside. “Here we are.”
Entering the room, my eyes focused on the mosaic of ancient Athens that ran along every wall in the room. An enormous canopy bed made of some sort of light-colored wood formed the focal point of the room. A matching dresser and bureau completed the suite.
Although impressive, I had seen a similar design on a trip to Greece a few years prior.
“You don’t seem too impressed.” Susan went to the bed and sat down.
“Sorry,” I apologized as I walked over and opened the closet door, finding my clothes unpacked and neatly hanging inside. “I am. It’s just that I stayed in a room in Athens similar to this.”
Her eyebrows rose. “The Parthenon Embassy?”
“I think that was it.” I closed the door.
“My mother loves Athens. Most of the furnishings come from there.” Susan made a sweeping motion with her hands.
I walked over and picked up a small statue of Athena from the dresser. “This is old.” I winked at her.
“I’d say it’s two thousand years old. Mom bought it from an antique dealer in Athens. She got a steal on it at three thousand dollars, so she claims.” Susan shrugged.
Suddenly, my hands felt sweaty and I gently set it back on the table with both hands, being extremely careful not to drop it.
“Note to self. Don’t touch anything,” I said to myself while drinking in her big green eyes and long eyelashes.
Susan laughed and threw her head back. “You have cute dimples.”
“Thanks.” My face turned red and I looked down embarrassed, recalling the countless number of times I had little old ladies pinching my cheeks as a result of the silly indentations. If I were capable of growing a decent beard, these things would definitely stay hidden.
“I embarrassed you.” She brushed a long strand of hair from her face and gave me a sympathetic look.
“It’s okay,” I said with a smile and sat down in a large ornate chair that faced her.
We stared in silence a few moments. My eyes wandered around the room once more.
“I can’t believe how much you’ve grown. You’re certainly not that skinny little boy with the two missing front teeth anymore.” Her eyes scanned me up and down again.
“Nope. Got my two front teeth for Christmas that year.” I pointed to my pearly whites.
She pointed at me and closed one eye. “And they’re quite nice, too. I bet you’re a swimmer aren’t you?”
“Yeah. How did you know?” I leaned forward, placed my elbows on my knees, and rested my head on my hands.
“You’re built like a swimmer. I dated a swimmer in high school and you remind me of him.” She causally slung her hair back reminding me of a model in a shampoo commercial.
I stared at her dreamily. “Cool.”
She then looked down at her jewel-encrusted gold watch. “I think it’s almost dinner time.”
With her distracted for a moment, I checked out her breasts again. “Oh yeah? What are we having?”
She looked up, and I quickly averted my stare. “I believe we’re having French cuisine tonight.”
“Oh. Escargot. Nothing like a big ol’ plate of snails.” I tried to play it cool and gave her a sly grin.
Her face got serious. “You know escargot is my favorite dish? No one prepares it like our chef.” She lifted her nose in the air haughtily.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” I quickly backtracked before seeing the corners of her mouth rising.
“Gotcha.” She pointed at me and laughed. “I’d much rather have a big, juicy cheeseburger.”
“Now, that’s what I’m talking about.” I causally wiped the sweat from my forehead and resumed my best attempt at flirting.
“You know, you’re adorable when you’re nervous.” Her eyes sparkled. “I could just eat you up.”
My thoughts roller-coastered. Did this goddess just tell me she could “eat me up”? Was she actually flirting back?
It seemed impossible that a bombshell like Susan would be interested in someone like me. I had to be dreaming.
She indicated a door opposite the bed. “The bathroom is over there, if you would like to freshen up before dinner.”
She stood and headed to the bedroom door.
“Thanks,” I said catching one last look at her glorious breasts.
She waved behind her as she exited. “Later, alligator.”
I quickly shot back without missing a beat. “After a while, crocodile.”
• • •
After Susan left, I hit the shower. A long, hot shower after the train ride down from Connecticut was a welcome relief. Getting dressed in my black dinner suit, I meandered my way back to the living room, getting lost a couple of times along the way. Honestly, the whole penthouse was like one giant maze. From what I could tell, it actually took up three floors with stairs, rooms, and corridors that ran in every direction.
Everyone was sitting around sipping cocktails as I entered the living room. My eyes immediately focused on Susan, who was dressed elegantly in a flowery, orange evening dress. I noted with particular interest the slit in the side that ran all the way up to her hip.
“Dinner is served,” the butler announced, who had just entered from the dining room.
“Just in time,” Susan said, subtly winking at me as she passed by. I felt my knees go weak as I knew at that moment she was flirting with me just as much as I was flirting with her.
We made our way to the elegantly furnished dining room. A long-rectangular wooden dinner table filled the space; place settings of fine China and silverware neatly arranged in front of each chair. I ran my eyes around the table searching for where I should sit. As I started to move to the chair next to my father, I heard a voice in my ear.
“You can sit by me,” Susan whispered as she walked behind me.
I turned and grinned as she took a seat near the middle of the table and I took the chair to her left.
A Gay Polyester High School Romance Page 8