Evan and Li Encounter Prejudice
This story is entirely fictional and original—no AI was used in its production. There are three previous chapters under the Series "Aloysius Li Washington." Ch 04 contains a brief recap of the first three chapters. All characters engaged in sexual activity are over 18, as should be any reader where local law so dictates. © 2023, all rights reserved. Brunosden
The early-in-the-season snow and ice storm turned out to be a whopper. At sundown it was very cold. The rain started and soon froze on the roads and overpasses; then it warmed slightly and a 6 inch blanket of snow fell overnight on the icy base. Everything was closed. And fortunately the weather was the top story of the day in all the Boston media and papers.
Bill had issued the press release about the new basketball program at the Y—a joint release with the Celtics Organization which took the second page of the sports section of the Globe. It was after all Monday, that weekend being the end of the regular college football season and the beginning of the pre-season pro games. But, Li was news, his partnership with Evan O'Malley was duly noted—without any sexual relationship implied, and generally the article was upbeat about professional athletes giving back to the underprivileged in the community .
We were apparently safe from the press for another day. But, the new venture had piqued the interest of the Gay Gazette and its social media copy-cats. They thought maybe they had a story. Archives were searched. By afternoon, they had pieced together my biography and —of course Li, being a sports celebrity was fair game, with lots of prior press.
I had spent the night with Li at his condo after an afternoon of non-stop torrid sex. When we had surfaced from the single-minded sex wrestling in Li's bed, the ice storm had begun, and I decided not to make the run to my apartment about ten miles farther west into the suburbs. "I'm working on a new presentation of the latest software the geniuses have developed. So I can work from home tomorrow—so long as the internet doesn't go out. I've always got my lap top handy."
"You did tell your folks you were planning on moving in. How about we start now—and finish over the Thanksgiving weekend? I use the den for my studying. You can have the second bedroom for your home office. We can move the stuff around now and add or subtract anything that you want. We won't be needing a second bed, will we?"
We had spent a leisurely morning, starting with a late wake-up, then some athletics under the sheets before an hour workout in the condo gym. I again made breakfast. Then we opened the electronic version of the Globe—and found the story about the Y venture. The Globe had not picked up on any potential homosexual side story.
My "partnership" with Li according to the Gazette was based on two photos one at the table at the restaurant and one as we were leaving. But they were clear and brightly lit. Li's profile had easily been developed from his official press releases from the Celts. There were several copycat articles. All were of the "top scoop" variety, but generally positive. The Gazette, after all, was gay advocate press. No one on their staff had any problems with the liaison—although some might have held some envy: we were a magnificent pair.
My photos clearly showed I was a hung, muscular "ginger"—the "type" they loved to pair with the darkest of blacks. Li, being black and ultra-tall and very muscular was presumed to be a hung, perhaps of legendary size. They dug up several of his Celts action photos which clearly showed his monster equipment in his silken basketball shorts. In short, for the gay press, we were a dream couple to be profiled, followed, and idolized again and again. The fact that Li had been a star athlete and an MVP added to the luster. In modern America, there was no right to privacy—at least for consenting adults, and particularly when one was newsworthy. Li's come-back-from-cancer story was just too much to ignore.
By late afternoon, the sun was peeking through and warmer temperatures were quickly melting the ice and snow. Both of us had managed to complete a day's worth of study and work—by carefully avoiding each other in separate rooms.
As to the stories, there was nothing more to be done. Neither of us answered phone calls from the press. Bill had constructed a simple response. "We are partners in the Y basketball program that we have been working on for weeks. We look forward to continuing that effort—with the support of the Y and the Celtics Organization. Our personal lives are private. We ask you to respect that." Then, we were advised to say nothing more and not to answer any other questions. "This will blow over in a day or so. Homosexuality just doesn't carry the news the way it used to. Even a gay athlete is not the news he was five years ago."
The Globe picked up the follow-up story on Tuesday, but the reporting was routine—and not inflammatory or condemning. The Celtics were always news in Boston, and they were more or less idolized in the press. The Celtics Organization issued a one paragraph announcement that they don't comment on the personal lives of their players—unless illegality was involved. But, the Globe did publish a letter to the Editor which purported to be from a parent of one of the kids in the Y program. The gist: how can the Y permit "known fags" to be "coaching, counseling, and molesting our impressionable children? Don't they investigate their volunteers?"
I knew most of those kids well. They were largely from one parent, hardly-ever-there, "families". Without the Y, they'd be on the streets, probably getting into trouble. I remarked, "I wonder which single parent who is never home and pays no attention to their teen-aged son wrote the letter? Those kids could definitely benefit from a role model at home."
The next few days were quiet and routine, but it was a dream to be in bed with Li every night.
Thanksgiving at the O'Malleys was predictably hectic—and enjoyable. We had brought the wine, and my sisters had been permitted to bring "sides" and pies. It was a real groaning board—and we even interrupted our non-stop viewing of football in the downstairs family room to sit at the table. (MM would have starved us if we had decided otherwise.)
By the end, Li realized he was already accepted and a family member. He could not have asked for more. And Li and I ate so much that Thanksgiving night was the first night we had spent together in bed where one had not made love to the other. We were just too sated. I teased Li about my partner becoming an old man already—not really able to perform because of obesity. But, when given a chance, I couldn't either.
Saturday was the first Y basketball session after the story had broken. So we were a little tense about what to expect. We had heard nothing from the Y itself—and the story had died.
But some of the boys knew—and within a few minutes everyone knew. When we entered the gym to start the drills, the boys all stood and applauded. They didn't care. (And much later we learned that a few of the guys were gay, but concealing their sexual identity out of fear.) The drills and the practice went like normal—including the locker and shower chatter thereafter. I did notice that an observer, presumably a "regular" staff member was present throughout the entire afternoon—something I had never experienced before. He had even posted himself in a remote office with a window on the locker/shower area. Maybe he got his thrills from watching several dozen guys strip and shower. I thought they had better things to do—including enjoying a day off. I expected that another shoe was going to drop soon. But, for now, we were looking forward to our typical Saturday night after a hectic afternoon: take-out pizza, beer, and make-out.
I had moved to the condo on Friday and a cleaning service had been called to finalize the turnover condition of my apartment—the lease anniversary was November 30. Thanksgiving leftovers had been consumed after a full day of moving, and thankfully, there were none left in the fridge.
We had showered at the gym and changed into our "time-together" outfits: loose sweat shorts and tees, barefoot. We sat together on the leather sofa to catch the last Thanksgiving weekend college game which was just ending.
"Evan, I've made a tentative decision about the job. I'm not asking your advice. I know you won't give it to me. So, I'd like you to endorse it. On Friday, I talked to the hiring partner at RW. I told him that RW was my first choice, but that there were some compelling reasons for me to stay in Boston. He interrupted and asked whether I had heard about the merger. I told him that I had. He asked if I would consider joining DRL if they can find a place for me in Boston with the post-merger firm?"
"I told him I didn't know much about the partners of the Boston firm—and that I had been talking to a "black" firm. He knew them. He said they were a good firm and if I chose them, he was sure I would be getting good experience. Then, he added, 'Of course, we all know that the first job a new lawyer takes out of law school is rarely his or her last. The quality of the first job however can determine how wide your options are with the second and third. We'd like you in Washington. But, if it's Boston, we can make that happen, I think.' I hadn't considered that before."
"I think I'd like to talk to some people at the Lodge firm in the next few days. If that works out, I'm thinking that we might stay here in Boston. What do you think?"
"I've told you before, Li. I'm all in with you. In Boston with the new firm or the black firm or in DC with RW. I'll be there. But I'd sure like to be here. I think the Y program is going to take off. And my family loves you. And Pete might be your partner!"
"Well, not partner right away. Associate is more like it."
Li smiled and leaned over and pulled me into his lap. I loved it when he did that. It's hard to explain to someone that a strong, aggressive Marine top likes being overpowered by someone like Li, knowing full well that he was going to fuck me before long and I was going to love it. Always before, I had been the aggressor and took all the first steps—except of course when he did his caveman routine. I felt the baseball bat immediately. Li was as hard and as big as he had ever been. "Someone's ready to play."
"Hell, with you boy, it's not play. It's work. I'm dealing with a professional. You never told me you liked clubs and dancing. Those photos of you are really hot. Did you fuck those guys? Do I need to start tipping you to get into your ass? I thought there was only one celebrity in this relationship?"
"Li, I never told you I was a virgin—although before we met, I rarely bottomed. I was strictly a top-man. I've had my share of bottoms. I think maybe I've taken more virgin ass holes in the Marines than any other guy. There weren't a lot of girls in Iraq or Afghanistan—at least not girls for US Marines. Those guys were always horned. And it only took a little to get them to bend over. My technique was easy and mostly the same: lure them in thinking they were going to fuck me or that I was going to blow them—and then after they were hot enough to have lost all ability to reason, my terrific powers of persuasion would kick in, and I was in their pants before they realized what was happening. Most had never had their prostates touched. That's the secret weapon to use on most guys who think the're exclusively straight. Get to the prostate and you've got'em every time. They get really hard instantly and start leaking. There yours. And, they always came back for more."
