This is the story of another time. The Vietnam war was tearing the country apart and young people were beginning to throw off the outdated rules of a society. The year was 1969 and the place was Boulder Colorado where two young men met and embraced their homosexuality. It is also a story of dominance and submission and the myriad emotions these roles bring forth in men as they seek to find their own place in the world. And ultimately it is a story of love between two men.
I would just like to add, it was also a time before the polite word of 'gay' was in common use and homosexuals faced strongly held prejudices in all parts of the country. In the language of that time, to be a homosexual was to be a 'queer' or a 'fag'. It also meant facing a real risk to ones very life. I have retained the use of these terms in the story because to do otherwise would present a false sense of the times. But, I ask the reader to understand that I only use such words because these are the words our characters would have used. In fact I have also used the word 'gay' in the story to somewhat soften the abrasive repetition of the 'Q' word, but in reality this word was not in common use in most of the country until a decade or more after the time of this story. So I must also ask those older readers to bear with this small transgression to the historical accuracy. I mention this so the reader will not be offended when you stumble upon a word here that might, under normal circumstances, seem derogatory. You will note that our characters use the words to describe themselves in the vernacular of their time and were just as proud of their homosexuality as the 'gays' of today are.
As always, your comments and votes are appreciated.
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What had started as a peaceful rally against the war in Vietnam had evolved into a raucous Halloween street party, and that had eventually degenerated into a drunken riot. Shawn had participated for awhile but was now sitting with a group of six or seven other young hippies on a small grassy slope on the University side of the street known locally as The Drag. It had been fun sitting there watching the antics of the increasingly drunken and stoned crowd, but now several of the young men were no longer content to simply impede the traffic, but were instead forcing passing cars to a standstill and jumping on the tops and hoods until they were crushed in. Even to Shawn and the wasted new friends surrounding him it was obvious that the party had turned ugly.
BOOM...BOOM...BOOM! The reverberations of the three closely spaced blasts stopped Shawn in mid motion as he was bringing the bottle of cheap Ripple wine to his lips. To Shawn it seemed as if time instantly slowed to a crawl. He watched as the crowd became like a sluggish river flowing away from the source of the explosions. A full blown panic quickly broke out amid the screams and rising smoke from the bombs. Without thought or plan Shawn found himself on his feet and joining in the panic to flee the danger.
Shawn had only run a few yards when he felt a strong hand on the sleeve of his jacket and a voice shouting, "Follow me!"
Turning, Shawn placed the shouting voice with the face of the new friend he had just been sitting with. Trig had only recently returned from an eighteen month tour of duty in Vietnam. He and Shawn had been sitting on the grass talking and sharing their wine as they watched the party in the street. The two had hit it off right away despite their difference in age. At nineteen Shawn had led a sheltered life until several months ago when he had left home to journey to San Francisco. It had been his desire to be a part of the counter culture happenings there, but Boulder and the Rocky Mountains had strummed a perfect chord within him and he never moved on. Trig on the other hand was 24 and during his time in Saigon had become jaded toward the war, the lies, the corruption and finally, life in general. He wandered his way into Colorado trying to find some of the peace that he had lost.
"Come on! We don't want to go that way!" Trig shouted as he veered away from the crowd and ran further onto the University campus.
Shawn allowed the older man to take charge and guide him. He followed Trig as he jumped over a low wall, assuming he must have more experience in this kind of thing than he did. And in this case Trig had guessed correctly that the explosions were combo teargas/concussion grenades set off by the police in order to move the crowd. In fact the crowd was being moved just as planned toward of a larger force of cops who were already rounding up the first wave of panicked young people. But soon enough, Trig had led them deeper into darkness and the quiet campus. As the noise of the crowd faded, the two slowed to a walk.
"Damn it," exclaimed Shawn "I lost my wine."
They both laughed at the absurdity of the statement and Trig replied, "No problem. I'm pretty sure I have some at my place." Then added, "You're welcome to come over, it'll probably be best to stay off the streets tonight."
"Thanks man. I appreciate it."
"No problem, I don't really feel like ending the night anyway and could use some company." Even as Trig was speaking he felt that old familiar stirring again in his loins. Earlier he had already been trying his best not to be too obvious about the attraction he felt for Shawn as they sat and watched the street party. This was the first time since leaving Vietnam he had felt the old familiar desires. But Shawn's youthful exuberance, the long curly locks of hair framing his face and the way he filled his Levis had seemed to somehow lift a dark cloud that had been shadowing him for a long time. The lad's innocence and delicate beauty was like a breath of fresh air to the jaded soldier. As the two young men continued to walk and talk, Trig wondered quietly to himself if it could again be possible to find the same joy he had known with Master Sgt. Keller. And at the thought of his old sergeant, Trig smiled remembering how he had been taught what it meant to address his sergeant with just the one word; Master.
Trig had been a frightened, wet-behind-the-ear young man from Palco, Kansas when he arrived in country. Little did he realize what a sweet assignment he had drawn as he first searched out the warehouse in Saigon where he would spend the next eighteen months. His post was an oddity among the many Army facilities, because what he had eventually found that day was a small central supply warehouse specifically set up for the various non-military offices of the US government in Saigon. And as it turned out it was manned by just two men, Master Sgt. Keller and one corporal. And that corporal would be Trig. The quarters consisted of a small attached apartment with two bedrooms. It was clear from the beginning that the whole operation was Master's domain and he took no crap from any of the other supply clerks that had to go through him to get everything they needed to function. And it didn't take long for Master to also make it clear that the second bedroom wouldn't be needed.
Trig had never even known a homosexual growing up in Kansas. In fact he had never even heard the proper term. The extent of his knowledge consisted of teenage jokes and comments about queers, fags and homos. But Master had wasted little time beginning to seduce and educate him into the new lifestyle that he would come to crave. Master had started Trig's education simply by using graphic magazines and paperback novels, the likes of which he had never seen. Pornography of all kind was abundant in the apartment and a good portion of it contained homosexual content. Next, Master had made him feel silly and immature for being shy about nudity and open masturbation in the same room together. So in an effort to appear a real man of the world, Trig joined Master in the nightly jack-off sessions as they looked at erotic pictures of every conceivable sexual act. After getting used to being naked with another man, Master had coaxed Trig to touch 'it' one night, and after that it just seemed natural to begin fondling and stroking one another in their mutual loneliness and lust. Very soon thereafter it became part of the young corporal's job description to jack his sergeant off almost every night as they drank beer and smoked pot.
