Ric Tells Pete

"No."

"Yeah."

"No way!"

"Way."

"No, Rick. I . . . I don't believe it."

Rick throws back his head and unleashes a big laugh.

"Sorry to disappoint you, little brother, but it's true. Every word of it."

"But . . . but . . ."

"What?"

"I just don't understand."

"What's not to understand?"

"Well, uh, I, uh . . ."

Rick pushes himself away from the battered old coffee table that sits in the middle of his garage apartment and climbs up from the floor where he and his younger brother have been sitting.

"You know what I could use right about now, Petey boy? A beer. How about you?"

When Pete who's looking pretty stunned makes no attempt to answer, Rick trots off to the nearby kitchenette to retrieve the beer. He soon returns, bearing two cans, and sets one on the table in front of his brother.

"Here you go. Looks like you could use it."

"But, Rick, it just doesn't make any sense. I mean even if it was true, why would he tell you?"

"Why not me? Oh, I get it. You mean, why didn't he tell you, cause as everybody knows you're the

good

son."

"No, because I'm the

gay

son. If it's true that when he was in college, Dad really did mess around with guys the way you say, then he had to know that would mean a hell of a lot more to me than you."

Rick shrugs. "You're looking at this all wrong, my man. Consider the circumstances. There we were, just a couple of guys stuck up there on that mountain with nothing much to do but drink and talk. OK, so technically it

was

a hunting trip, but it didn't take us long to figure out that neither one of us was much in a mood to spend our time out in the cold woods chasing after deer or rabbits or something. So instead we found this out-of-the-way, hole-in-the-wall bar out on the highway and spent most of our time drinking beer, playing pool and challenging the local yokels to round after round of darts."

"Dang, I wish I could've gone. So how'd the gay stuff come up?"

"Well, it didn't come up right away. As I recall, we had lots of stuff to get off our chests before that—stuff about work and school and the way Dad went off and got remarried without even running it by us. I really let him hear about

that,

I can tell you."

"OK, fine, but how did the gay stuff come up?"

"Well, as I recall, I was the one who brought it up, sorta. Since we were in the process of sharing and getting things off our chests, for me that just sort of naturally led to the subject of sex."

"Naturally," Pete quips, rolling his eyes.

"OK, OK, so no big surprise there," Rick chuckles. "But the fact is we really were having a good time, Pete. Hanging out. Shooting the breeze. Really opening up for the first time in a long time. For once, it was like all the walls were down, and I felt like I could just tell him anything I wanted to without worrying about him coming down on me like a ton of bricks."

"Sounds nice."

"It was. Damn nice. Anyway, like I said, we were just a couple of guys hanging out, and as what usually happens when guys hang out, talk of sex just naturally came up—a number of times. And for once, I just let it all come out: the sex parties, the booty calls, the wild women, and finally even . . . yep, the boys."

Pete giggles. "You did not tell him that."

"Afraid so, little brother. I told all."

Rick takes a big gulp of his beer.

"And did you . . . I mean, um, did you go into detail?"

"Sure—why not? OK, so not everything, but enough to let him know I liked boy ass just fine."

"And he wasn't shocked?"

Rick smiles. "Yeah, well, see, that was the thing. Not only was he not shocked, he really didn't seem all that surprised. What he did seem was turned on. Oh, he tried to hide it, made out like fucking guys was the craziest damn thing he ever heard of. But you know Dad: He's a lousy liar and a worse actor, and I smelled a really big rat. So I set up a little test. I started talking about boys—I mean,

really

talking about boys, like how there are times when nothing will scratch that particular itch but a perfect little round boy ass—and then I turned to Dad, gave him a look, and said: 'Ain't that right, Dad?'"

Rick lets loose with a big laugh and Pete bends forward.

"What did he say?"

"What could he say? I'd caught him dead to rights. He was like a kid caught with his hand down his pants. After that, pulling the whole story out of him was easy as pie."

Pete sighs. "Oh, jeez, our dad is gay."

"Hold on there, speedy. Nobody said anything about gay. I think the word you're looking for is 'bi.'"

"Like you."

"Yeah, like me."

"I still can't believe it. It's like he's been lying to us all these years."

"How do you figure?"

"Oh, come on, Rick. You know what I mean."

"Can't say I do."

"It's like that time when I was 12 and he caught me messing around with my friend Jay in the basement. He threw a fit, made out like it was the worst damn thing a guy could do."

Rick stifles a laugh. "Oh, yeah, I forgot about that. Quite the little horny toad, wasn't ya? But you're reaching back awful far, Pete. And you yourself admitted that Dad eventually came around, and even apologized and told you he totally accepted that you're gay."

"OK, fine, but what about last year when he caught me sneaking in after hours and totally lost it, accusing me of sneaking out to hook up with some lowlife thug? He didn't even give me a chance to explain that I had actually been up here in the treehouse hanging out with you."

"I'm not sure that would have helped, bro. There have been times Dad accused me of being a lowlife thug."

"Not funny, Rick. He grounded me three whole months for that, and I thought he'd never get over being mad."

"OK, I'm gonna say something you're probably not gonna like. But, Pete, I don't think Dad cracked down on you for being gay. I think that had a lot more to do with you breaking the rules and maybe the fact he thought you were running with a bad crowd."

"Oh, I can't believe this: you, of all people, defending him. He's been harder on you than anyone."

"True, but the funny thing is the older I get the more I'm starting to get his point of view. Which is not to say we don't fight a lot because we definitely do. It's kinda hard to explain, Pete. But a lot of times even when Dad and I are yelling at each other at the top of our lungs, I'm still getting him—and someday you will too."

"So you went off to Witch Mountain and bared your soul and now you're all buddy-buddy? I don't believe it."

"It's complicated, bro. But up there on the mountain, we had some good times. Dad opened up and really let me in, for the first time in a long time. And I got a chance to see some sides of him I hadn't seen in a long time. You remember what he was like before Mom died?

"Yeah, I suppose—so?"

"So that's what he was like up on the mountain—the old dad. The free and easy dad. The dad who wasn't always yelling all the time, and who used to like to joke and laugh and pull crazy stunts, like when we had cookouts in the middle of winter or played hooky from work and school just so we could go to the movies."

"We haven't seen

that

dad in a long time."

"That's what I'm saying, bro. Mom's death really threw him for a loop. It occurred to me that bit by bit, he's been trying to work his way back to being that good ol' dad we used to know and love."

"Yeah, I suppose he has been better lately. That time last year was the last time he really yelled at me, and when I enrolled in college, he promised that if I stayed at home instead of the dorm, he'd lighten up on the rules and let me come and go as I please. And believe it or not, he's actually kept his word."

"See: he's making an effort. I honestly think he's trying to really loosen up. And I swear to you, Pete, up on that mountain you wouldn't have even recognized him."

"OK, fine, he's loosening up. But I'm still trying to process the gay thing. You say he didn't even try gay sex until college. What took him so long?

"Well, we can't all be like you, little brother, seducing our best friend at the tender age of 12. Come to think of it, I made my first pass at a fully mature woman when I was 11, so I guess I'm not the best example."

"Yeah, but what about Dad? You're not saying he went through high school without any kind of sex—are you?"

Rick chuckles heartily. "Hardly. I know he was a boy scout, but no one is

that

big a boy scout, at least not in this family. Dad was a good-looking dude—you've seen the pictures—so he made out with his share of girls. It's just that back in the backwoods of East Texas, it never occurred to him that you could fuck around with boys as well as girls."

Pete takes a sip of beer and crunches his face. "But not touching a guy till college? I'm still finding that a little hard to swallow."

"You think so? I didn't touch a boy until I was 21, or should I say, a boy didn't touch me—remember, bro? You should since you're the one that touched me."

Pete giggles. "Yeah, I guess I did forget that. So come on, 'fess up: Tell me what his first experience was like."

"I don't know, Petey boy," Rick said with an impish grin. "It was kind of raunchy—probably too much for your delicate ears."

Pete reaches over and punches his brother in the shoulder.

"I'll show you delicate."

"

Ow,

you little freak!" Rick yelps in mock pain, rolling back with a laugh. "I guess I'll have to, or you're liable to beat me up."

"Stop playing, Rick, and tell me."

"OK, but I wasn't kidding about it being raunchy, which is kind of amazing seeing as how Dad is now. The first time I heard it, I literally jumped up and called it a lie. But then he looked me in the eye and made me believe it, and to this day I have newfound respect for the old man. Anyway, you've heard what it was like growing up in that backwater of East Texas. Their idea of fun was hanging out at the 7-11 on Saturday night and bribing some dude to go inside and buy them a beer."

"Except I doubt that Dad would have done that. Remember, he was an eagle scout."

"Yeah, which must have made it doubly boring. Anyway by the time he went off to college in Dallas, he was ready—beyond ready—for a change of scene. Think about it, bro: There he was on his own in the big city for the first time in his life. It must have been truly overwhelming, meeting kids from all over, and realizing that every one of them was way more experienced than he was."

"That's funny," Pete snickers. "He had to go to college to learn he was uneducated."

"So to speak," Rick nods, "but he got educated real fast. According to Dad, a couple of days into the term, his roommate came on to him."

"Wow," Pete marvels, downing another sip of beer.

"Yep, and that was just the beginning. The real action came later when he pledged a fraternity which, as it turned out, had quite a rep for raunchy parties."

"That doesn't sound like Dad."

"Not now it doesn't, but remember that this was twenty-five years ago. Dad was young, hung, and looking for fun, and mainly looking for a way to break out from his old boring self. He was looking to take a little walk on the wild side."

"What happened?"

"Well, it started out with the usual bullshit—mixers, toga parties, contests, the usual frat boy scene. But then they announced a 'special' late-night party just for the seniors and the pledges. It was all very hush-hush so that the newbies wouldn't catch on to what was going on until they showed up for the party. Turns out it was a slave auction."

"Slave auction?" Pete gasps. "What's that?"

"Oh, come on, little bro, even you're not

that

naïve," Rick snickers, glancing at Pete. But then he sobers up when Pete glares at him. "A slave auction, you know: It's where you go to a party and they auction you off to the highest bidder."

"But why? I don't get it . . . oh, you mean . . ."

"That' right, bro. They auction you off for sex."

"Oh come on, Rick. That doesn't sound like Dad. I bet he took you look at that stupid old auction and get the hell out of there. . . . Didn't he? Don't tell me he stayed."

"What do you think, Petey boy? Of course he stayed. That's why he joined the raunch fraternity in the first place, though he claims he and the rest of the pledges didn't know what was going on at first."

"But a slave auction. That's just so wrong."

"I don't know. Maybe it depends on whether you mind being owned or not. Open up your mind, bro, like dad did."

"Wasn't he at least a little scared?"

"Pete, he was scared shitless, and especially when they announced the rules of this little auction. First rule: All the pledges were told to strip down to their underwear."

"Oh, God," Pete yelps, clutching his beer.

Rick can't help but chuckle as he watches his younger brother squirming and hanging on every word.

"Anyway while they were doing that, the MC—or I guess you'd technically call him the auctioneer—announced that all the pledges would be auctioned off to the highest bidders, and they had to do exactly what their 'masters' commanded. And then loads of guys started crowding around and pulling out wads of cash."

"So they . . . they

knew."

"That's right, little brother. The older ones knew exactly what was going on, and they were ready to go. I bet they even knew exactly which boys they wanted."

"Was this even legal?"

Rick rolls his eyes. "Pete, now that you're in college, you really should get out more—like Dad did. From what he said, the whole thing was a hoot, with the auctioneer parading each pledge around like a show horse, touting their various 'assets' to the crowd, before starting the bidding. Everybody was yelling and joking and knocking back beers: It really was just a big raunchy theme party."

"And did the slave boys have to wear, y'know, chains and dog collars and stuff?"

Rick laughs out loud. "It wasn't an S&M party, bro. Which is not to say they weren't really slaves. Once they were bought, they had to do everything their master told them for the rest of the night."

Just then Pete jumps up and heads for the kitchenette.

"Hey, where are you off to?"

"I'm gonna need another beer."

"Good idea. Grab me another while you're at it."

Pete hurries back with the beers and seats himself beside his brother.

"So what happened next?"

"Well, Dad wasn't chosen right away. They pushed him and a few of the prized hunks aside until the end. Remember he'd been a jock all through high school so he must've looked pretty damn good standing up there in his BVDs."

"Yeah, I bet he looked really good."

"But while he was waiting his turn, he got an eyeful of the goings-on among the masters and slaves. Remember: Those boys literally belonged to those frat hounds. So most of them started making their slaves strip bare right there in front of everybody."

"No!"

Rick snickers and nods yes, totally relishing the look of amazement on his brother's face.

"Afraid so. Of course a few of the newbies needed a little encouragement to, um, get with the program. So their masters didn't hesitate to take matters in hand and rip those suckers right off."

"Damn," whines Pete sucking a big swig of beer.

"And that wasn't all. Some of the more adventurous masters started stroking their boys, actually fondling them right in front of the crowd, getting them all hot and bothered. And then they ordered those young colts to take their master's cock out and start sucking them."

Pete gasps. "Right in front of everyone?"

"Yep, right there."

"And they did it?"

"According to Dad they did. He said that by the time his turn came around, there was lots of sex stuff going on all around him. It seems that after they made them suck them, a lot of the masters made their boys suck their friends as well. Oh, Pete, man, you should have seen Dad's face as he told it. Even after all these years it was like he was right back there in the thick of it, watching guys go at each other for the first time in his life. It made me hot just watching him tell it."

"And what about him? What did he do when . . . his time came?"

"Dad lucked out when his turn came around. This smokin' hot dude who had been hanging back all night, all of a sudden pushed to the front of the crowd and bid like a fortune for him. I don't recall how much; Dad said it was like some insane amount. It was obvious the dude was loaded, and Dad was glad he was, because he was a stud and a half

and

a jock. Dad claimed his heart skipped a couple of beats because this guy was loaded in more ways than one."

"And did he make Dad suck him?"

"Oh, he got around to it—but not right away. It seems Dad was so fucking hot standing there in all his naked beauty that instead of him going down on the guy, the guy actually went down on him."

"He did

not!

"

"Just what I said when Dad told me. That had to be some fucking guy."

But did he and Dad . . . go all the way?"

"Fucking straight they did. After a while Dad was so hot to give it a try that after a while the two of them snuck upstairs to somebody's room and went at it like rabbits for who God knows how long. Dad said they tried a little of everything that night, and he must have liked it 'cause he and that guy got together a couple more times."

"Un—fucking—believable."

"And yet true, little brother. That was our dad, back in the day."

"No, Rick, the unbelievable part was him keeping this from us. We had a right to know."

"That again?"

"So why'd he stop . . . or has he? Do you think Dad could be like one of those internet lechs who secretly picks up guys online?"

"You can be such a little drama queen, you know that? Dad gave up all outside sex when he met Mom. Of course I don't know if he hasn't messed around with a few times since she died."

Pete's ears prick up. "You think he could've?"

Rick grins and nudges his younger sibling. "What's the matter, bro—jealous?"

"Of what? I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm thinking about that guy Dad fucked at that party: you jealous of him?"

"Jesus, Rick. Shut up. I don't know what you mean."

"Dad was a sexy guy. Hell, he still is. Don't tell me you haven't noticed."

"You're such an asshole. I'll tell you what I've noticed: It's nearly 12:30 and I've got early classes in the morning. So I'm taking off."

Pete gets to his feet and so does Rick.

"Not so fast, bro," Rick says, slipping his arm around his younger brother and giving him a not-so-brotherly kiss.

"Dammit, Rick, cut that out. Unlike you, I can't function without sleep."

Pete attempts to turn toward the door but Rick pulls him back.

"Pete, man, come on. You can't leave me like this. You know I can't sleep if I'm all worked up."

"You were born worked up. I mean it, Rick. I have to go."

Pete takes a step toward the door and stumbles a bit from the effects of the beer.

"See there, bro. You need to slow down and take your time. Let your head get clear."

"My head's fine, Rick. I only had one . . . and a half. Believe me, I can handle that much."

"Maybe so," says Rick catching his younger brother's hand and pressing it over the bulge in his jeans. "But can you handle this?"

Pete gasps. "Jesus Christ."

"Yep, it's true: I'm a horny devil. There's no denying it. But as I recall, so are you, bro, once you get going. Can you honestly tell me that after hearing that wild and raunchy story about Dad, you're not even a little worked up?"

Rick pulls his brother back into another kiss, and this time, Pete responds, kissing him back.

"Why do you do this to me, Rick? Whenever I need to go, you're always pulling me back."