Jay Little

“ ENVELOPED IN A COMPOUNDING haze of glaring colored lights, New Orleans, fabulous city of the south, spread out before Gaylord from his twelve story hotel window. He gazed down on the rolling reverberations of cabs, street cars and people.
"I'm yours for tonight," the squeaking cab horns screamed and rambled over the uneven streets. "We won't hurt you," the tops of the queer-shaped buildings groaned, their voices old and toothless. "Come down and dance with us," yelled the jazz bands from the dimly lighted cracks. "I'm really the old man of the river," hooted a steamer from the mighty river. ”

“ At last Blake wanted him.
To be lonely is one thing, to be wanted is another. There is no loneliness so acute as that of a boy upon a trap, facing many eyes; but to be wanted is to be free, free from eyes and tongues that watch and question and condemn. Feeling himself now thus wanted, Gaylord relaxed, and after a moment he stretched his legs and breathed deeply. An approaching glaring light made him blink and squint and finally shut his eyes altogether. ”

“ He sat on the wooden bench, lost in thought, not feeling its hardness; his soul filled with the dream that had come so often lately, and the mirrored stars swept silently across his child-like face. He closed his eyes and in the dream Blake took his hand and drew him close. He remembered the grin, how cute it was, how genuine. He made a wide circle of all those he knew and decided again that Blake was the only one. The pleasure, the sheer physical delight of their bodies touching, grew within him to such an extent that he wanted to stay in their protection forever ”

“ Gaylord's head inclined towards Blake's chest, his face sober and tear-stained. He did feel guilty because the desire had been there ... It had been deep and if Glenn would have made even the slightest move, he realized now that Blake would be speaking the truth. He did not look up, only rested his tired head across the broad chest. How strange it felt beneath him, how awfully strange. He was innocent, and yet he was guilty too. But life was like that. The littlest seed could grow into a huge tree the same as one act or word could become a burning quarrel. ”

“ He no longer regretted the impulse that had brought him to the dance. The moving stars awoke memories of a thousand nights. He was a girl and dancing with Blake. The darkness felt clean and in Blake's strong arms he had a feeling of security. In them he could forget the crowd and still be a part of it. From the frightening terror that had descended upon him that first day of school, from the cruel remarks about his person, from the blows he had received, he had always crawled away within himself. But now, as he imagined himself in Blake's bronze arms, a feeling of being wanted had entered. ”

“ He saw Blake in his football suit, looking like a bronze god and running like a wild deer down the entire field. He saw Blake naked and remembered how it had been. He remembered the grin. Even with his eyes closed he could see the tight muscles of the arms about him, and the hand massaging his bare flesh was very plain.
"Bob," he breathed, lingering on the name. He felt as if his entire being was boiling, was steaming like a boiler seeking a quick release. His heart pounded and back of his exploding mind a thousand dreams became alive. ”

“ Gaylord leaned over again and drew down the underwear while wave after wave of excitement went shuddering through him. He felt even dizzier than he had at the club, and his heart beat as though it would break through the cage of his ribs. Paul's body came clear and even closer. Gaylord tried not to breathe, to stifle the swallowing sound of his throat.
The room rang out in a whisper. "Don't be afraid of Paul. He likes you ... he's your friend ... don't be afraid ... Abide with us restless seekers of love and we shall teach you." ”

“ He pressed his hands around the school's bronze door knob and looked down. Its color reminded him of Blake. His fingers gathered themselves into small fists and he pressed his hands against the knob. If only it could be Blake in his grasp. He glanced at the pane in the door as if it might reveal the handsome face but only his own sad eyes were caught in its blurred coldness.
Gaylord's legs ached. He left the door ajar and turned down the long corridor. It was filled with yelling and hurrying students. Their arms were burdened with books, but in their faces were no signs of pain. ”

“ THE GLOOM OF THE AUDITORIUM had been perennially deepened by the shadows cast upon it from the giant cottonwood trees surrounding it. Shadows that roamed over its rows of endless worn shingles, on the grounds that bedplated its weather-beaten sides, moved and swayed in the moonlight as if some unseen hand was fanning their decaying bark. In Cotton, the auditorium meant a perfect floor to dance on ... a good time; but to Gaylord it was an ugly thing of the past, a leap into the days of his childhood. ”

“ Paul was assailed with a familiar pang of loneliness, and from the street, a girl screamed with delight and a horn from a passing cab caught it up and carried it deep into his mind. Why was he remembering drinking coffee at the dingy old French Market? Why was he remembering the place he had met Arnold?
Damn, that's an ugly boy, he had thought; but the ugly one had gone home with him and stayed. How happy they had been the months following that meeting. How utterly full of joy his soul had been, and how handsome Arnold had become in his eyes. ”

“ The three walked together, and out of the corner of his eyes, Gaylord watched Blake. Saw the nippled chest, imprinted on the white sweatshirt, the dark hair, soft lips; looked at the big hand that held Joy's, at the other swinging with a careless grace in time to the slow steps of the big shoes. He admired the back of Blake's head. Blake was a man's man all right and yet he was kind and gentle. Every once in a while the muscles in his arms tightened and looked powerful under the deep bronze skin. Did those arms really embrace him? Did those lips, those gentle lips, really kiss his? ”

“ FROM BIRTH ROBERT BLAKE HAD been physically a big boy and possessed a terrific strength. Now, at eighteen, he stood over six feet in his bare feet. His face, beneath short pitch-like hair, looked as though it had been sculptured out of bronze. His mouth was long, with a touch of wry humor about it, and his eyes were as brown as an old penny. His nose, which had been broken in several football games, showed no ill effects. It looked perfectly chiseled above a square and dinted chin. His physical bigness was so evenly proportioned that his two hundred pounds seemed an unbelievable weight. ”

“ Instead of answering, Gaylord moved closer.
No one o'clock in the morning ghosts rose from the road to haunt him as they started back towards Cotton. If loving Blake was a crime for which society would never forgive him he didn't care. In Blake all the beauty, life, and loyalty, the endless dreams and young hopes had come alive. Was it so easy to dispose of someone who gave all this? Who else could save the effeminate boy or find beauty in his sensitive soul? "For whoever or whatever you love, love is beautiful." ”

“ All the way home, he cried; kept seeing Blake and Joy in bed together, enlaced with their love-making.
As he turned into his driveway, the heavy stillness surrounding the dark house was gone. The lights from his car had awakened it from a restful snooze, and now it appeared alive ... glad the darkness had been lifted. A parked car by the curb in front of the house meant nothing to him as he walked absentmindedly from the garage around the side and to the front of the house. A whistle, like a boy would make to a passing pretty girl, stopped him from going up the porch steps. ”

“ There's no one like Bob, he thought. The sound of his voice, the expression in his eyes, the way he walked, all made him feel that he had had a momentary glimpse into another world. Everyone else seemed intolerably dull, even contemptible.
The evening had settled swiftly and the sun had gone long ago. A cool little breeze had sprung through the open windows and struck his cheeks.
He wondered if Blake was thinking of him now, and he felt sure that he must be. No man could kiss like that and forget. ”

“ A girl pushed against him and he smiled at her. She wore a white sweater and grey skirt, with a little clasp of imitation pearls around her neck; her hair fell in soft rolls about her face; she was at her very prettiest. Gaylord stood and watched her, and two thoughts followed each other through his mind: "I wish I was in her shoes" ... "Why, since I was born a boy, can't I be like the rest?"
Gaylord was seized with a feeling of vertigo, an actual dizziness, as though he were teetering at the edge of a precipice, looking into a turbulent sea, resisting an impulse to jump into it. ”

“ As if the bronze arms had suddenly been taken from him and desiring to get them back, he flinched his eyes, a response to the sensation of peril. It was like a struggle against sleep, or the beginning of something terrible.
"Come on, beautiful ... whataya sitting here all by your lonesome little self for? Let's dance, cutie."
The words were coarse and drawn together. They smelt of whiskey and the warm fresh air was suddenly contaminated with filth and germs. It surrounded him closer and closer until it choked him. And his beautiful dream was replaced by a dreadful anticipation. ”

“ Gaylord watched the dimples grow in the smooth tan cheeks; the clutched fist go under the sturdy chin; and now, he indulged in the exquisite dream of repeating with Rogers what he had done with Blake. He thought of lying next to Rogers in bed. It would be the first time he had ever slept with anyone. He wished it could have been Blake; Blake with the golden skin and the strong bronze arms. He was not at all sure he could force himself to touch Rogers. The feeling for Blake which had taken the first young giving of his love had a powerful enduring claim upon him. ”

“ Blake's low voice said, "much better."
When Gaylord opened his eyes the haze across the sky had thickened, and the moon and stars themselves had vanished. They were alone, between two forests. There were no clearings here, no farms, no filling stations or houses. The civilization from which man came was far away, and those who ventured here were explorers or lovers, with only one thought ... to be alone. ”