Boy Power House
folder
Original - Misc › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
43
Views:
3,439
Reviews:
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Currently Reading:
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Category:
Original - Misc › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
43
Views:
3,439
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction about oral & anal sex between men and young boys. The characters, locations & incidents are fictional. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Chapter 16
©2007 Herb Cat. Do not reproduce or distribute this story without the author's permission.
As an author, I welcome feedback from readers. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank you.
.oOo.
Chapter 16
Date: Tuesday, September 11, 2001
Place: Victor's home, Patterson, NY
"Hello, Mark. I'm glad you let yourself in. I'm sorry I wasn't there. You must have been worried, Sweetheart."
"Where the fuck are you, Victor?"
"I'm still in San Francisco. I'm sorry but there's nothing I could do. You know they've canceled all air traffic."
"They what? What do you mean?"
"You mean you haven't heard the news?"
"What the hell are you talking about, Victor? What news?"
"OK, listen, my boy. When we hang up, you turn on the TV in the living room. It's all over the news, every station. You'll see why I can't fly home for a while. I'm trying to see if I can get a train or something. But you rustle up some dinner for yourself, and stay there tonight. I'll be thinking about you sleeping in the bed. In our bed, Mark. And tomorrow morning, take some money from my dresser, the top left drawer, and go back to the city before my wife comes home. Sorry I can't make you breakfast. I'll make it up to you next week, Sweetheart. We'll have such a fuckin' good time next Tuesday. I promise."
Mark is teary eyed. He can't imagine being in their bed without Victor. He knows he won't sleep anyway. Nighttime is when his young body is most awake. He walks into the living room and switches on the TV. In minutes he discovers the immense tragedy of the day, a disaster equal in proportion, in his thirteen-year old mind, to not having his Victor. The two World Trade Center towers are now a rubble of burning debris. Thousands of people have been killed. Mark doesn't know where Victor works in the city, but now he is glad he was in San Francisco, so far away, but alive. The images of burning towers, planes, dust clouds, masses of New Yorkers running, are repeated over and over again. Was he the only person in the city who didn't know what had happened? Who slept through it all? No wonder the passengers on the train were so somber.
Occasionally, the cameras show Mayor Guiliani, or the police commissioner, telling everyone to stay away from Manhattan, to let the first responders do their job. Mark thinks about the wife. Of course, she didn't stay away. Not even a disaster like this can keep her from going with her girl friends to the city to spend Victor's money. The bitch. But it's just as well she did or otherwise she'd have been home when Mark came to the house.
Mark, like everyone else in the tri-state area, everyone in America, is now glued to the TV. He listens to long lists of cancellations. There will be no school tomorrow, not that that changes his life at all. The stock market closing also has no effect on him. But then he hears that theater performances on Broadway have been canceled. Shit! Will the bitch be coming home tonight? Mark thinks about Victor's instructions, about spending the night. Even out in SF, he must be aware of everything. He said it was all over the news. He must know the lights on Broadway have gone out. But he didn't tell Mark to hightail it out of there. Maybe he spoke to his wife. They both must have cell phones. Maybe she told him she was staying in the city anyway. Mark doesn't know whether to relax or worry. He wants to hear Victor's reassuring voice again.
He goes back in the office and begins looking in desk drawers. Maybe he can find Victor's cell phone number and give him a call. Nope. Just file folders, and paperclips, and rubber bands. A key. A desk calendar. Some money. Lots of pens and stacks of yellow legal pads. He walks over to a corner where Victor has his computer setup. He snoops around the office opening cabinets and looking on shelves. One of the cabinets is locked. Fuck. But Mark remembers the key in the desk. He hates to intrude on his lover's privacy, but he is desperate to find an address book or pocket organizer or something that might have his cell phone number, or the name of the hotel where he's staying. He's sure Victor will understand. So he takes the key to unlock the cabinet. The key that will also open his mind to truths too painful to contemplate. The key that will change his life forever.
.oOo.
As an author, I welcome feedback from readers. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank you.
As an author, I welcome feedback from readers. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank you.
.oOo.
Chapter 16
Date: Tuesday, September 11, 2001
Place: Victor's home, Patterson, NY
"Hello, Mark. I'm glad you let yourself in. I'm sorry I wasn't there. You must have been worried, Sweetheart."
"Where the fuck are you, Victor?"
"I'm still in San Francisco. I'm sorry but there's nothing I could do. You know they've canceled all air traffic."
"They what? What do you mean?"
"You mean you haven't heard the news?"
"What the hell are you talking about, Victor? What news?"
"OK, listen, my boy. When we hang up, you turn on the TV in the living room. It's all over the news, every station. You'll see why I can't fly home for a while. I'm trying to see if I can get a train or something. But you rustle up some dinner for yourself, and stay there tonight. I'll be thinking about you sleeping in the bed. In our bed, Mark. And tomorrow morning, take some money from my dresser, the top left drawer, and go back to the city before my wife comes home. Sorry I can't make you breakfast. I'll make it up to you next week, Sweetheart. We'll have such a fuckin' good time next Tuesday. I promise."
Mark is teary eyed. He can't imagine being in their bed without Victor. He knows he won't sleep anyway. Nighttime is when his young body is most awake. He walks into the living room and switches on the TV. In minutes he discovers the immense tragedy of the day, a disaster equal in proportion, in his thirteen-year old mind, to not having his Victor. The two World Trade Center towers are now a rubble of burning debris. Thousands of people have been killed. Mark doesn't know where Victor works in the city, but now he is glad he was in San Francisco, so far away, but alive. The images of burning towers, planes, dust clouds, masses of New Yorkers running, are repeated over and over again. Was he the only person in the city who didn't know what had happened? Who slept through it all? No wonder the passengers on the train were so somber.
Occasionally, the cameras show Mayor Guiliani, or the police commissioner, telling everyone to stay away from Manhattan, to let the first responders do their job. Mark thinks about the wife. Of course, she didn't stay away. Not even a disaster like this can keep her from going with her girl friends to the city to spend Victor's money. The bitch. But it's just as well she did or otherwise she'd have been home when Mark came to the house.
Mark, like everyone else in the tri-state area, everyone in America, is now glued to the TV. He listens to long lists of cancellations. There will be no school tomorrow, not that that changes his life at all. The stock market closing also has no effect on him. But then he hears that theater performances on Broadway have been canceled. Shit! Will the bitch be coming home tonight? Mark thinks about Victor's instructions, about spending the night. Even out in SF, he must be aware of everything. He said it was all over the news. He must know the lights on Broadway have gone out. But he didn't tell Mark to hightail it out of there. Maybe he spoke to his wife. They both must have cell phones. Maybe she told him she was staying in the city anyway. Mark doesn't know whether to relax or worry. He wants to hear Victor's reassuring voice again.
He goes back in the office and begins looking in desk drawers. Maybe he can find Victor's cell phone number and give him a call. Nope. Just file folders, and paperclips, and rubber bands. A key. A desk calendar. Some money. Lots of pens and stacks of yellow legal pads. He walks over to a corner where Victor has his computer setup. He snoops around the office opening cabinets and looking on shelves. One of the cabinets is locked. Fuck. But Mark remembers the key in the desk. He hates to intrude on his lover's privacy, but he is desperate to find an address book or pocket organizer or something that might have his cell phone number, or the name of the hotel where he's staying. He's sure Victor will understand. So he takes the key to unlock the cabinet. The key that will also open his mind to truths too painful to contemplate. The key that will change his life forever.
.oOo.
As an author, I welcome feedback from readers. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank you.