Theo And Reed's School Blues

Chapter Six

Charles Alistair LeClair was not expecting any visitors that night at his elegant one bedroom condo in the Georgetown neighborhood of Washington DC. He was not expecting anyone. He was starting to hate his own home really. He had once upon a time loved it. He had collected every single piece of antique furniture in the condo. Some he had traveled to far off places just to out bid some other crafty buyer for it. He once had loved every aspect of his living space including the tasteful black and white modern art pieces arranged artistically upon his plain white walls. The furniture was simple and sleek and few. Charles very much preferred the minimalist appeal. His home had once been his crowning joy.

Now it seemed more like a mere shell. A cold lonely empty shell.

Kind of like himself , he snorted without an ounce of humor. At fifty eight with no real partner or children he was starting to envy Theodore's life for some ungodly reason. The cluttered often times messy old house that was Theodore and Reed's was nonetheless filled to the brim with a lot of laughter and fun and life. And love. He could almost hear his own grandfather Alistair laughing regally at him within his own head. He could hear his grandfather telling him that love was an useless emotion.

Love. He took a sip from his glass of white wine , swished it about in his mouth and swallowed it before putting the long stemmed expensive crystal wine glass back down on the coaster on his rounded glass coffee table. Love. Charles knew a lot about sex and money but he knew zero about love. That was more the realm of Theodore. He would never tell the man but Theo was very blessed to have Reed and the children in his life. Theo's life was full right now. Charles' life seemed half empty. He heard a timid sounding knock at his front door. He recognized that knock.

Love.

Love was what he now saw as he opened the front door to find the one man standing there that he just could not remove from his every waking thought. His every dream.

Lane Davis of Rocky Creek , West Virginia.

Charles stood there in his foyer staring at the young man. Lane came in fast. He looked shaky and scared and tense. And ..... he appeared to have tears in his eyes. Charles longed to inquire why he was on the verge of tears but he knew better. Their relationship , if this was a relationship , wasn't like that. It couldn't be because Lane didn't want it to be. Charles was a very powerful man but in this matter Lane Davis , a poor young ill dressed teacher from the sticks , held all the cards. Charles hated him for that.

Charles loved him. He loved Lane. He wanted to protect him. He wanted to shower him with nothing but the best and show him things Lane had never even dreamed existed. He wanted to comfort him at this moment. But that wasn't what they did. Again Lane's rules. Lane's game.

" Lane ? What do you want ? Are you quite alright , my dear teacher ? "

Lane looked at him. He was breathing hard. He looked at Charles standing there in his long silk red and gold robe.

" No, " Lane said , " I'm not alright , Charles LeClair. I'm not alright. "

Then Lane pushed Charles back against the wall of his foyer. His bland wall. His routine wall. His lonely wall. It was a position that Charles had been in before but this time he treasured it. Because it was this man that had confounded all his very senses. Lane's body pressed against Charles'. His red rimmed eyes stared into Charles' eyes. Lane's eyes seemed so neutral except for the deep longing and desire reflected within them. There was something else that Charles could not pinpoint. That deep down he was too scared to examine more.

" What do you want , Lane ? "

" Stop talking. I don't want to talk. Not right now. I don't want to talk. I want to fuck you. I want to fuck you so damn hard. And so damn long. And so damn hard. I want to be in control for once in my pitiful pathetic life. I want to have you scream my name. "

Charles , God help him , wanted that too. Hell's bells , he wanted that and far more. But he knew in his heart of hearts that even within Charles' sound proof home that Lane would never want him screaming his name. Because God forbid someone might hear and Lane was not ready for that. Charles didn't think he would ever be ready. The teacher was not ready to reveal the truth of himself to the world. Or even his own family.

" Then , " Charles retorted , as he played their very familiar game , " then do stop dithering around. Do get to work fulfilling your wishes , my dear teacher. And mine. "

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That night they were intertwined together in Charles' king sized bed. Lane was resting his head on Charles' suntanned chest with its wild tangle of silvery hair. Lane loved listening to Charles' heart beating so steady.

Lane was so scared. He was almost thirty years old , a grown man , and he was so damn scared. It wasn't just that damn woman that had threatened his own livelihood. God. He hated her ! She had almost hit him and would have if Theo had not come in to stop it. If she had actually hit him Lane would have defended himself and his life would have been over then. He would never have taught in DC , Maryland or Virginia. He may have had to go back home and that was the last thing he wanted. He may have had to leave this bougie arrogant demanding snob of a man. He wasn't ready to leave Charles. Not yet. Maybe. Maybe not ever. That scared him as well.

He didn't know who scared him more : Callista Hamilton or Charles LeClair. Or himself. His breath escaped in one long despairing gust of air. His brain screamed what he wouldn't allow his mouth to.

He loved this man.

He loved Charles LeClair. And he didn't want to. Maybe he had from the one moment that he had seen the elegant man standing in front of his disabled expensive car , looking both mysteriously appealing and pissed.

( " Is there a taxi service in this burg you call a town ? " )

( " No. Not really. But if you have a spare tire I can change it for you. I'll only charge you the low low low price of a drink. " )

Lane sighed deeply. He started to move away from Charles. It was getting too close to early morning after all. He had to get back home and get ready for school. He could not afford to be seen. He wasn't as brave as his brother Dennis. He could just see his parents' faces when they learned they had two queer sons. Only Lane preferred the company of both women and men. He looked at Charles who slept peacefully. He wanted to stay.

Charles felt his lover once more leaving him. Like so many lovers in his past had done. Before he hadn't cared if they stayed or went. He actually preferred them gone by dawn. They had been there just to pleasure him. Not to be entertained. Not to be loved. They certainly didn't fall asleep in his bed with him holding them. Charles was not the cuddling type. As he felt Lane pulling away from him he yearned to open his eyes and call him back.

Beg the man to stay. Ridiculous. A LeClair did not beg. Anyone.

He didn't. He just pretended to be sleep while Lane dressed in the dark. That was what they did after all. Lane wasn't Reed and Charles wasn't Theodore. Lane never stayed past sunrise. He was too afraid to be seen.

Lane paused by the front door of the apartment building , a pensive look on his face. He wished he was more like Dennis. Then again what difference did it make anyway ? Even if he came out today Charles LeClair would never really be his. Charles didn't want nor need a real relationship. He had told Lane that time and time again. And if he did it certainly wouldn't be with some poor country boy teacher from Coal Country. Charles only wanted him for sex. And that was how Lane liked it.

( " You have Charles , " Theo had said. )

Wrong , Theodore , he mentally told the man in his head. He crossed the parking lot to his Toyota. Wrong. The last thing he had was Charles.

He was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't notice that the same man who had taken pictures of him arriving was now taking more pictures of him leaving.