Billy Budd

By Tim Mead

At 7:15 AM thirty-something Everett Sloane heaved himself out of the college pool after 45 minutes of swimming laps. The three other men in the pool, all faculty members, didn’t even look up. Sloane was a fixture there three mornings a week, so they took his presence and his leaving for granted. If they had troubled to look, they might have said Everett had kept his swimmer’s build. The less charitable could have pointed out the beginnings of a pair of love handles. He looked pretty good at 6’1” with no sign of losing his thick brown hair, which he kept cut to a medium length to show off the waves in it. Some of the women in his classes had been known to admire his brown eyes. But Everett was lonely. It was no fun being a gay professor in a small college town 30 miles from any decent-sized city.

Everett loved his teaching. That is, he loved working with students. He was not fond of the meetings – committee meetings, department meetings, division meetings, and general faculty meetings – that seemed to plague his life. He drew emotional sustenance from his students. They gave him life and energy; they made him look forward to each new day.

But this morning as he showered, he felt empty, depressed. It was the beginning of a new semester. He should have been happily anticipating new batches of students, but he wasn’t because Billy had graduated at mid-year.

Something of a loner, Everett was out, but he’d never had a student lover. Since Ben Selig had taken a job at Wright State two years ago, he had had no lover at all. He’d seen Ben a couple of times at conferences and was happy for Ben that he had found someone else and was enjoying life in Dayton. Sloane knew or knew of several other gay faculty members, and the campus had an active GLBT group. But he wasn’t into activism. Face it, he was a single gay man approaching middle age. It was scary to think of being alone for the rest of his life, so he tried not to think beyond the present.

Most of the time he had been able to live with his status, but this particular morning he was feeling lonely and sorry for himself. As he sat on the bench in front of his locker putting on his socks, he knew full well that his depression came from the knowledge of Billy’s absence.

After a morning of classes, he went to the college snack bar for a bowl of soup and a sandwich. Oblivious to the hubbub around him, he thought back to that day a year and a half ago when “Billy Budd” first showed up in his life.

He’d never actually called William Bond “Billy Budd,” but with his fair skin, baby face, blue eyes, and curly blond hair, he seemed to fit Melville’s character, which had popped into Sloane’s mind the instant he saw him.

* * *

It was several days into the fall semester. Sloane was in his office, working on his class rolls, trying to pair the names on the list with faces he could remember. He looked up when he heard a tap on the doorframe. There stood a boy so beautiful it made his breath catch. Six feet tall, thin but well-muscled, he was a perfect specimen. Sloane could see the boy’s nipples through his tight collared tee, and a tempting package caused his jeans to bulge. People as blond as that never get dark tans, but the boy had obviously been in the sun during the summer, as he had a healthy glow about him. And there was an extra hint of ruddiness about his cheeks.

“Dr. Sloane?”

“Yes, I’m Everett Sloane. Can I help you?”

“Yes, sir. I’m registered for your 19^th Century American lit class.”

“Come in and sit down. But first, tell me your name, please.”

The boy blushed. “I’m sorry, sir. I’m William Bond.” He offered his hand, and they shook.

Once they were seated, Sloane asked, “Where’ve you been, William? The semester began two days ago.”

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry. I was driving to campus from Stamford and my car broke down. It took a couple of days to get the part, get it fixed and get here. I hope you’re not going to hold that against me.”

“Of course not. Did you say you were driving from Stanford, as in California?”

“No, I live in Stamford, Connecticut.”

“Well, I recognize your name as being on the class roll. Here’s a copy of the syllabus. Perhaps you can borrow someone’s class notes for the days you missed. If you have any trouble, come back and I’ll see if I can remember what I said.” He smiled to let the boy know he was teasing.

Billy’s faced lighted up with his radiant smile. “Thank you, sir. I know a guy in the class. His name’s Jack Claggart. I’ll bet I can borrow his notes.”

“Great. Do you go by William, or do you use one of the nicknames?”

“I’m usually William, Dr. Sloane.”

“William it is, then. See you in class tomorrow.”

Billy gave Sloane another dazzling smile and left. Sloane adjusted his hard cock and tried to get back to work. He kept thinking about how beautiful Billy was and how instantly he had been attracted to the boy. He had built such a wall around himself that he was seldom affected this way by a student, but Billy’s appearance at his office door had managed to knock a big hole in that wall. Who was the student Billy said he knew? Oh, yes, Claggart. Strange. An unlikely friendship, it seemed to Sloane. He knew Claggart, who had taken his American lit survey the previous year. Quiet. Rather sullen. Intelligent enough, and very intense. Just not outgoing, nothing like Billy.

Billy was there the next morning, bright and shining, as they say. He didn’t sit with Jack Claggart, either. He sat in the front row. As the course went on, he was always in the front row. He was always prepared. He didn’t strike Sloane as being a suck-up. He didn’t dominate the class discussions. But he always had a good answer when the professor asked him a direct question, and he occasionally made an insightful comment. The other students in the class seemed to like him, so they obviously didn’t think he was a suck-up either. Claggart sat toward the back and usually managed to scowl, though his tests and papers gave ample indication that he, too, was doing his reading and following the discussions and occasional lecture carefully.

Unfortunately, though Billy was good in class, his essays tended to be unfocused, often full of scintillating observations, but not adding up to a coherent whole. That necessitated a number of conferences. Sloane asked him to come to see him after the first paper, and then again before and after each successive paper. (The professor believed in several shorter papers rather than allowing a big part of each student’s grade to depend on a “term” paper. They’d get plenty of that, he thought, in other classes.)

In those conferences with Billy, Sloane found the boy enchanting. They often sat side by side at Sloane’s computer looking at Billy’s outline or his notes for a paper, or perhaps at a draft of the paper. That way Sloane could learn a great deal about the way the boy went at the task of writing an essay, and Billy could get helpful tips about the writing process. When their sessions were finished, Billy always thanked Sloane profusely, always shaking his professor’s hand before he left. Sloane thought that was formal bordering on the quaint, but he also enjoyed the boy’s dry, firm handshake. In fact, he usually felt a shiver go up his spine when they shook hands. Invariably he had to adjust his cock after the boy was out the door.

As the semester went on, Billy learned to put his excellent thinking into something approaching excellent writing. As the semester went on, Sloane’s wall crumbled. He was obsessed both with the boy’s beauty and with his essential sweetness.

At the end of the period on the last day before the brief Thanksgiving break, Billy stopped at Sloane’s desk. “I hope you have a nice Thanksgiving, professor.”

“Thanks, William. You, too. Are you going back to Stamford for the holiday?”

“No, sir. It’s too far to drive for such a short break, and I can’t afford to fly.”

“That’s too bad. Will you be alone in the dorm for the holiday?”

Billy gave Sloane a wry smile. “Well, almost. I’ll be alone in the frat house. Or almost alone. A couple of other guys will be there, too.”

Sloane amazed himself by what he said. “William, I love to cook, and I haven’t had much reason to do that lately. Would you like to take a chance and have Thanksgiving dinner with me?”

This time it was a full, brilliant smile. “That would be so cool, if you are sure you don’t mind.”

Sloane returned the smile. “We can’t have you eating cold pizza on Thanksgiving, can we?”

“How’d you know about the cold pizza?”

“I can remember my own college days. At least that hasn’t changed. Now, why don’t you come by about 4:00? We’ll have something to snack and sip on, and then, later, we’ll eat bigtime.”

Billy grinned at “bigtime” because in class the professor didn’t use much slang. “Are you sure you want to do that, Dr. Sloane? I don’t want to be any trouble.”

“Yes, William. I’m very sure.”

“Uh, what should I wear? And can I bring anything?”

“I’ll probably be in corduroys and a sport shirt. So you can dress as you like. And you don’t need to bring anything.” Billy gave Sloane another big smile, and the professor’s penis began to fill.

“Great. See you Thursday afternoon, then.”

“Thanks, professor. I’m surely looking forward to it.” When the two shook hands, it seemed that Billy held Sloane’s hand a little longer than usual.

Billy arrived on the dot of four o’clock. He had a gift bag from the local card shop and in it was a bottle of a fifteen-dollar California chardonnay.

“I didn’t know if we were having turkey, but if this doesn’t go with what you planned, save it for another occasion.”

“It will be fine. It’s even cold.”

“Yeah, I put it on the window ledge for a while. And I walked over here, so it should be good to drink now, or you can put it in the fridge until supper if you’d rather.”

“William, this is better than I had planned for supper. Let’s drink my stuff now, and open this with the meal.”

“Okay by me, professor.”

Sloane hung the boy’s parka in the coat closet. He was amused that his guest was wearing corduroy jeans and an untucked plaid shirt.

“I thought we’d eat about six. Come on out to the kitchen with me. I was just peeling the potatoes. You can sit on one of those stools and keep me company.”

“You making mashed potatoes?”

“Uh huh.”

“Well, let me quarter them for you and put them into the pot. That way you can be doing something else.” Sloane handed him a knife, and the boy cut up the potatoes and dropped them into a big saucepan with water in it. While he did that, Sloane was stringing and breaking up green beans. He put those into a pot and put the lid on it. “We’ll not add the water to those until we’re ready to cook them. Now, would you like some wine? Would you prefer a beer or a soft drink?”

“Wine’s great, thanks.”

Sloane handed him two stemmed glasses and said, “The wine’s open in the fridge. Why don’t you pour, and I’ll fix us some snacks?”

He put hunks of Jarlsberg, stilton, and cheddar on a plate, dumped several kinds of crackers in a bowl, and they went to the living room.

Billy dug into the cheese and crackers with gusto. Sloane suspected the boy hadn’t eaten much yet that day. As they sat and talked, he also noticed that Billy wasn’t tearing into his wine as he had been his food.

“William, would you rather have something to drink instead of the wine?”

“No way! The wine’s great. But I just want to take it slow, if that’s all right with you.”

“Of course. I just want you to be comfortable.”

Sloane asked the boy about his family. Billy explained that his parents were both high school teachers, his father in English and his mother in math. His father had been killed in the crash of a small plane. He and a friend had gone to a fly-in in Florida, and their plane had come down in a thunderstorm as they flew home. That was two years ago.

“Mom’s still teaching. I know she’s awfully lonely and misses Dad a lot. It’s good I have an academic scholarship, or else I couldn’t afford to be here. I have to work all summer to help pay for my expenses.”

Sloane wondered about the fraternity expenses, but he didn’t feel comfortable asking.

At the appropriate time, they put the heat on under the beans, after adding water, and the potatoes. Sloane had stuffing baking separately in a covered dish in the oven. The turkey breast was out of the oven and “resting.”

Billy, who was sitting on a stool at the bar watching him, asked, “Professor Sloane, how did you become such a cook?”

“I have my mother’s and my grandmother’s recipes, and I’ve always liked to cook. I, uh, used to have someone to cook for. But it’s been a while since I’ve fixed a meal like this.”

Sloane felt guilty that he was going to serve cranberry sauce out of a can instead of making his own. He had made his grandmother’s cloverleaf rolls, however, which were in their pans on the counter, covered with a tea towel. He would put them in the oven soon.

With Billy’s help, the meal made it to the table while everything that was supposed to be hot was actually hot. Sloane opened Billy’s wine and, after thanking him once more, poured some for each of them. When they sat down, Billy bowed his head. Obviously he expected Sloane to say a grace. Momentarily nonplussed, Sloan remembered a prayer he’d heard his father say many times as he was growing up: “Give us grateful hearts, Our Father, for all thy blessings, and make us ever mindful of the needs of others.”

“Amen,” Billy responded.

Although his table manners were impeccable, Billy ate everything on his plate and had seconds. Sloane noticed that he managed to finish a second glass of wine with his meal.

Billy insisted on helping clear the table, put away the food, and load the dishwasher.

”Now, William, I’ve made a pumpkin pie. Would you like some, with a cup of coffee?’

“I’d love some pie, professor. But do you have any milk?”

“Sure do.”

Sloane cut wide slices of the pie, spooned on whipped cream, and set two plates on the table. Then he poured milk for Billy and coffee for himself.

They exchanged memories of Thanksgiving as they ate their pie. Billy remembered big family gatherings in Hartford at his grandparents’ home. Sloane shared recollections of his family gatherings in Huntington, WV, when he was a boy growing up there.

When they were finished, Billy helped Sloane clear the table and load the dishwasher. Then there was an awkward moment. Sloane would have been more than happy to have the boy stay. He would, he admitted, be ecstatic if the boy spent the night. But what was he to say?

“Well, sir, I don’t want to take up more of your evening. This has been wonderful, and I don’t know how to tell you how much I appreciate you having me here. It sure beat cold pizza, as you said.” He gave Sloane another of those radiant smiles.

“William, you don’t need to rush off. I’ve got a pretty good collection of vhs tapes and dvd’s if you’d like to stick around and watch something.”

“Are you sure?” the boy asked, trying to hide his eagerness.

“Yeah. Look in that cupboard over there.”

Sloane didn’t have anything in the way of action adventure pictures, so he hoped Billy could find something he’d like. And he was glad that his collection of gay porn dvd’s was in a different cabinet. Billy handed him a dvd and said “I love this. Do you mind if we watch it?”

Sloane looked at the box. It was “An Affair to Remember.” He would never have expected Billy to select that flick. And then he began to wonder . . . .

“I’m going to kick off my shoes. Feel free to do that if you’d like.” Billy, who was wearing ankle high leather shoes, quickly unlaced them and pulled them off. Sloane couldn’t help noticing that the white-sock-clad feet were nicely proportioned, but pretty large. They sat together on the sofa to watch the picture. When it was over, they both had tears in their eyes.

Sloane was embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Billy. That’s not great drama, but it always seems to get to me.”

Billy put his hand on his professor’s knee. “Yeah, I know. I love it, too. Your having tears in your eyes just tells me that you’re my kind of people, Dr. Sloane, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

Sloane’s cock got instantly hard. He’d had trouble controlling it as he sat beside the boy and took glances at him during the film. The boy’s touch on his knee was electric, and it had an immediate effect. “Please don’t tell your classmates that I’m a sentimental slob, William,” Sloane said, smiling.

Billy grinned back. “Your awful secret is safe with me, professor.”

They talked a while longer. Sloane didn’t want to stand up until his erection subsided. Besides, he was happy to sit there on the sofa beside the beautiful boy, watching the changing expressions on his face as he talked.

Eventually, Billy took his leave, thanking his professor profusely. “Believe me, William,” Sloane said, “it was my pleasure.”

Billy had already helped him put away the food, rinse the dishes, and load the dishwasher, so there wasn’t much to do in the kitchen. Sloane did what remained to be done and went upstairs.

As he undressed and went through his nightly ritual of brushing his teeth, urinating, and generally getting ready for bed, he thought about the young man who’d spent the evening with him.

‘My god, am I falling in love? It can’t be love. I don’t really know him.”

‘Then you’re infatuated with him,’ a voice inside him said.

‘Well, what if I am? Surely there’s no harm in that.’

‘So long as you can control yourself, there isn’t. But he’s one of your students, and you’re old enough to be his father.’

‘No! Almost old enough, perhaps.’

‘Don’t evade the issue. You have responsibilities. You mustn’t take advantage of your position.’

‘Yes, dammit, I know!’

Sloane was certainly not going to venture into the city to shop on the day after Thanksgiving nor the day after that, so he stayed home, listened to music, and read. Saturday morning he did make a run to the supermarket, but other than that he was in his house all weekend.

By Sunday afternoon he was at loose ends. He had no more exams to mark or essays to read, and he was fully prepared for his Monday classes. He knew the students, who were arriving back from their holidays at home that afternoon, wouldn’t be prepared for their Monday classes. That was a given of college life. But he, dammit, was prepared. The problem was, how was he going to kill that evening? Certainly there wouldn’t be anything on television. He didn’t feel like watching any of his videos. Then it occurred to him that he might dig out one of his porn vids. Just then the phone rang.

“Hello.”

“Dr. Sloane, this is William. How are you?”

“I’m okay, William, thanks. How about you?”

“I’m okay, too, thanks. Professor, have you got any plans for supper tonight?”

“No, not really.”

“Don’t make any. I’ll be there at 6:00, okay?”

“What do you have I mind?”

“Just relax, Dr. Sloane, and I’ll see you then.” He hung up.

Sloane was puzzled, but he had to admit to himself that the thought of seeing the boy again excited him. He’d been wearing jeans and an old flannel shirt when Billy had called. He went upstairs, shaved, showered, splashed on some of his best aftershave, and put on a pair of flannel slacks, a blue button-down shirt, and his black loafers.

A few minutes after six the doorbell rang, and it was William. He had a pizza box and a six pack.

“Here, professor. Why don’t you put this in the oven and let it warm up? We’ll have a beer, and it should be ready to eat by the time we finish the first one.”

Sloane stood back and gestured for the boy to come in. “Let me take this to the kitchen. You know where to put your coat.” When he got back from the kitchen, he saw that Billy was wearing jeans, a Gap sweatshirt, and sneakers. Sloane felt silly and a bit overdressed.

Sensing that this party was to be less fussy than Thanksgiving dinner, he took two cans of beer back to the living room and handed one to Billy. “William, whatever made you think to do this?”

“Well, professor, I had such a good time when I was here the other day. I can’t fix you a wonderful dinner, but I wanted to do something to let you know how much I appreciated your having me. Thursday was so nice. I guess I also just wanted to see you again.”

Billy smiled at Sloane, whose heart suddenly wasn’t beating at its normal rate and whose cock, predictably, began to harden. ‘This could be dangerous,’ he thought.

After they had finished the first beer, Sloane asked, “Would you like to have the pizza in here and watch a video? Do you have classwork to do, or any reason to hurry back to the fraternity house?”

“I’m all caught up on my work. I’ve had lots of time this weekend and nothing to do. So, yes, I’d love to watch another flick with you, if you don’t mind.”

“Go pick out something, and I’ll bring in the pizza.” Sloane turned off the oven heat and put two slices of pizza on each of two dishes. He turned off the oven heat and left the door ajar so the rest of the pizza wouldn’t dry out. He carried the plates to the living room coffee table. Then he went back to get two more beers.

“What did you pick?”

Billy picked up the remote and pushed the button. As soon as Sloane heard the opening music, he knew it was “Evita.” He looked at Billy and grinned. “I love your taste, Billy.” He realized that the boy never called himself Billy. That was always the way Sloane thought of him, but he always referred to himself as William. He hoped the boy wouldn’t mind.

They cleaned up the whole pizza as they watched the film. Sloane paused the dvd, picked up their plates and empty beer cans, and took them all to the kitchen.

“Thanks for the dinner, William. I was getting pretty tired of leftover turkey. Can I bring you anything? I’ve got some ice cream in the freezer, and there’s even some of the pumpkin pie left.”

“No, sir, I couldn’t eat another bite, thanks. Just come back and watch the rest of the movie, okay?”

Sloane sat beside the boy and kicked off his loafers. “Want to take off your shoes?”

Billy grinned and toed off his sneakers. When Sloane put his sock-clad feet on the coffee table, Billy did the same. Somebody pushed the play button, and they settled back to watch the rest of the movie.

By the time the movie was over, Billy had managed gradually to move closer to Sloane. When Sloane pressed the remote button to turn off the dvd player and tv, Billy leaned his head against the back of the sofa and let it tilt a little so that it was almost resting on Sloane’s shoulder.

Sloane wanted to take the boy in his arms and cuddle him, but his conscience was screaming that he must not do that. Professors these days are required to be ever aware of the possibilities of entrapment, of students who will claim they’ve been subjected to sexual harassment or worse. Sloane didn’t think Billy was that kind of kid. His take was that this was a very loving boy who needed to be hugged, held. But the college had rules against fraternization of that sort. Many faculty members entertained student groups in their homes, and he knew it wasn’t really unusual to do what he had done for Billy on Thanksgiving Day.

But all sorts of warning signals went off when he thought about any kind of physical contact with the boy. Yet Billy sat there, head back, eyes closed, a look of peace on his face.” Without changing position, he said, “Man, this is nice!” Then he let his head fall that little distance so it was actually leaning against Sloane’s shoulder.

That’s the time when the professor thought to himself, ‘Fuck it! I’m going to do this.’ He turned toward Billy, put his arms around him, and hugged him tight. The boy sighed and snuggled closer.

“I was hoping you’d do that.”

“I sensed that, William. I’m glad I wasn’t wrong.”

“No, professor, you weren’t wrong. This is great. Can we just sit here like this for a while?”

Those alarm bells were still clanging inside Sloane’s brain, but he ignored them. The boy smelled of soap or shampoo, and, although the room wasn’t excessively warm, his body gave off what seemed to Sloane like waves of heat. Although he continued to hold Billy, he relaxed the rest of his body. He rested his cheek against the top of the boy’s head and allowed his mind to shut down, enjoying the pleasure of the close physical contact, a contact that he had often fantasized about since the beginning of the term.

After perhaps ten minutes had elapsed, Sloane said, “William, this is wonderful. But I must ask you a question. What do you want from me?”

Without changing position, Billy replied, talking almost directly into Sloane’s left pect. “No more than you are willing to give me, sir. I’m grateful that you’ve been so kind to me. And I love that you didn’t push me away a while ago. I love that you’re holding me. This is so nice!”

Sloane chuckled.

“What’s wrong, did I say something funny?”

Sloane squeezed the boy tighter for a moment. “No. I was just thinking that it’s pretty silly for you to keep calling me ‘sir’ when we’re sitting here cuddled up together. So when we’re alone together, why don’t you just call me Ev, which is what my friends call me?”

“Okay, sir, that is, Ev. I’ll try.” He nuzzled Sloane’s chest. “You called me ‘Billy’ once. That’s what my dad called me. After he died, I insisted that everyone call me ‘William’ because I was the man of the family. And that’s what everyone here on campus calls me.”

He pulled out of the embrace, sat up, and looked the older man in the eye. “But I’d really like it if you’d call me ‘Billy’.”

Sloane kissed the boy’s forehead and then smiled. “’Billy’ it is.”

Billy snuggled up against Everett but didn’t say anything.

“Billy, you do know I’m gay, don’t you?”

The boy laughed. “Anyone who looked at your collection of videos would know that. But, yeah, at least a couple of people have mentioned it.”

“I don’t flaunt it, but I’ve never tried to hide it. And I did have a partner for a while. Ben and I tried to be discreet, but a lot of people knew about us.”

“I hadn’t heard about him. Can I ask what happened?”

Everett sighed. “He got a job that was simply too good to pass up.”

“Bummer. But if he thought the job was more important than you, maybe you are better off without him.”

“Yeah, I’d about decided that myself.” He paused. “Billy, let me ask you again. What do you want from me?”

“Ev, this has been perfect. I really need to go back to the house. It’s getting late. But could we do this again sometime soon? I don’t want to barge into your life if you aren’t interested. But I think you are interested. So could I maybe bring some more pizza next weekend?”

Sloane chuckled. “So you didn’t come over here to seduce me?”

Billy sat up and grinned at him. “I haven’t even told you whether I’m gay or not.”

“Not in so many words, no.”

“Okay, maybe we’ll do something sexual, maybe we won’t.” He paused, looking into Sloane’s eyes. “You know, I really wouldn’t have had to eat cold pizza on Thanksgiving. I got another invitation. For the weekend.”

“After I asked you?”

”Yeah.”

“Billy, you know I would have understood. Was it one of your friends?”

“Well, a frat brother. You know him. Jack Claggart.”

“So why didn’t you go?”

Billy ducked his chin. At that moment he reminded Sloane of a little boy. “Because I wanted to be here with you.”

Sloane pulled the boy into a tight hug. “I feel guilty that you gave up being with your friend, but I’m very glad you decided to brighten my weekend instead.”

The boy squeezed back. “Me too. Besides, Jack’s not that close a friend. I’m not sure why he asked me.”

“Because you are such a great guy, Billy?”

He looked startled. “Me?”

Sloane laughed. “Yes, you.”

They hugged again.

“Why don’t you come for dinner next Saturday night, if you don’t have anything better to do? I’ll fix us something, and then maybe we can find another flick to watch. We’ll see what happens after that.”

Billy flashed Sloane another of those brilliant smiles. He put on his shoes and stood up. Everett stood as well.

“I’ll check with you after class Friday about the time.” He kissed Everett on the forehead.

“Thanks for dinner, Billy. I’m looking forward to this weekend.”

“Thanks for the evening, Ev. See you in class.”

Billy’s behavior in class that week was irreproachable. There were no winks or sly looks to suggest that he and the professor had any sort of special relationship. When he stopped by the desk after class on Friday, he said, “Do you still want me to come to supper tomorrow night?”

“Yes, if you still want to come.”

He gave Ev the smile. “I’d really like that, but you have to promise not to do anything as fancy as what you did for Thanksgiving, okay?”

Ev smiled back. “How does beef stew sound?”

“Great. Can I bring anything?”

“Only your sunny self. And I’ll probably be wearing jeans, so you can dress accordingly.” Sloane thought he saw a flicker of amusement cross the boy’s face, but he only said, “Great. See you tomorrow.” And left.

After beef stew, corn bread, salad, and apple crisp for dessert, the two cleaned up the kitchen and moved to the living room to watch a video Billy had brought along. It was called “Drift,” a film by Quentin Lee which depicted three different versions of a triangle of three young gay men.

When it was over, they talked about the story, its characters, and the fascinating way it had presented three different scenarios for what might have happened among the three characters.

Then Billy took Sloane’s hand. “What about us, Ev? What’s our scenario for the evening?”

“I know what I’d like it to be, Billy, but I have terrible qualms about suggesting it.”

“Don’t be shy, Ev. Tell me.”

“It’s not that I’m shy. It’s just that I have scruples about having an affair with a student, particularly with one in my class.”

“Do you think you can’t give me the grade I deserve when the course is over?”

“I think I can be objective about that.”

“Are you going to do special favors for me in class, or excuse me from required work, or anything?”

“No.”

“Do you think I’m going to run around campus telling everyone what we did?”

Ev laughed. “I don’t think you’d do that. But you have to understand, we could both get in trouble with the administration if you tell anybody, anybody at all, and it gets back to the dean or the president.”

“Trust me, Ev. What we do here stays between us. Now, what ARE we going to do?”

Ev stood and took Billy’s hand. “I have a few ideas. Let’s go upstairs. When does your coach turn into a pumpkin?”

Billy snickered. “Cinderella can stay all night if it turns out that way.”

“Count on it, Cindi!”

In the bedroom, the two took turns undressing each other. Billy seemed as appreciative of Sloane’s body as Sloane was of his. When their clothes were folded neatly and put on a chair, the two stood, facing each other, their hard cocks seemingly prepared to duel. Sloane grabbed Billy into a tight hug and began kissing him hungrily, all the passion he’d been restraining since the beginning of the semester finally coming out. Billy gave back as good as he got. Without breaking the kiss, he steered Sloane toward the bed (the covers of which Sloane had turned back that afternoon, just in case) and pulled the older man down on top of him.

Finally, Sloane said, “You just told me we had all night. Let’s not rush this.”

“Okay,” Billy said with a smile.

Everett began to kiss the boy’s face, his forehead, his eyelids, the tip of his nose, his cheeks, his chin, under his chin, his neck. Then he tongued Billy’s ears as the boy moaned and began to writhe. He gave the younger man the full tongue treatment, laving his chest and abs, then moving to his knees and licking his way up first one thigh and then the other.

“Oh, god, Ev! That’s fantastic! I’ve never felt anything like that before!”

Sloane wondered how much experience the boy had had, but he decided that wasn’t the time to ask.

“Now,” Billy continued, “it’s your turn. I want to do that to you. Get on your back.”

Sloane rolled off the boy and lay on his back. He’d been leaking precum as he had tongued Billy, but when he was on the receiving end of the tongue bath, his cock became harder, if that was possible, throbbing and drooling onto his lower abs. He couldn’t tell whether Billy was experienced or merely enthusiastic, but the boy was doing a skillful job, seeming to know where the especially sensitive areas were. When he found that Sloane didn’t respond excitedly to having his pits licked, he moved on. When he found that Sloane groaned with delight at having his nipples sucked, he sucked them assiduously.

Finally, it was the older man who said, “Let’s pause a minute. I’m about to come, and I don’t want to yet.”

Billy smiled down at him and said, “Okay. Why don’t we just hold each other for a while?”

The lay on their sides facing each other and snuggled. Their hard cocks were side by side. When a slight movement of either body caused them to touch, both bodies twitched.

“Billy, do you know what 69 is?”

The boy giggled. “Oh, yeah!”

Feeling a little like a naughty boy himself, Sloane asked, “Wanna?”

They did it lying on their sides. It was the older man who eventually said, “Oh, damn, I’m gonna come!” Billy’s response was to put a hand on Sloane’s butt and pull him closer. In moments, Sloane’s cock was jetting semen into the boy’s mouth. The boy was swallowing greedily. Sloane had paused from sucking Billy during his orgasm, but as soon as he was finished, he resumed tonguing and sucking Billy’s sweet cock. Slone stuck a hand between the boy’s legs and began to tickle the boy’s pucker. That was all it took. Billy began to flood Sloane’s mouth with cum, more than he could swallow, so he choked on it. He sat up, coughing, tears running down his face, and jizz running down his chin.

“Oh, man, I’m so sorry, Ev. I should have warned you.”

Everett laughed. “I wouldn’t have missed tasting your cum, Billy. I just wasn’t expecting quite so much. I haven’t been with a twenty year old since I was your age, I guess. I’d forgotten how much of that stuff you guys produce.”

“You’re sure you’re okay now?”

“Uh huh.”

“Well, professor, you fed me a pretty big load, too, you know. And it was yummy!”

The two went to the bathroom together where Sloane gave the boy a new toothbrush. They both urinated and brushed their teeth and returned to bed. Billy lay on his right side, Sloane spooned behind him with his arm over the boy’s chest, and they went to sleep.

The next morning they exchanged blow jobs again, showered together, though it was a squeeze in Sloan’s tub shower, and Sloane fixed waffles and sausage for breakfast. Billy left, saying that he wanted to go to church and that he had a fraternity meeting that afternoon and had to study in the evening because his English prof was such an ogre.

The two got together at Sloane’s house again the following weekend. Then it was time for the Christmas holiday. Billy flew back to Connecticut. Sloane was glad he wasn’t driving his old car, especially at that time of the year. Sloane spent most of the holiday alone. His only family was a married sister in Seattle who found having a gay brother embarrassing, so he decided not to accept her somewhat grudging invitation to fly out to be with them.

After the second semester began, Billy didn’t have a course with Everett, but they continued to spend Saturday nights together whenever possible. Sloane was occasionally invited to parties given by administrators or faculty colleagues which were pretty much mandatory if he wanted to stay on good terms with everyone. Billy had the occasional date, which he told Sloane was to keep up his image in the fraternity, and from time to time there were parties at the fraternity house which he was obligated to attend. If nothing else was scheduled, however, the two were together.

Their first night together had had nothing more adventuresome than their 69 sessions. As time passed, however, they explored one another and the delights of mansex fully. Sloane never quite brought himself to ask, but he came to believe that Billy was hardly inexperienced.

He wasn’t sure just when it happened, but somewhere during that second semester, Everett knew he was in love with the boy. Hopelessly, completely in love. He’d had lovers before. But his feelings for them were nothing like what he felt for Billy. As the spring semester went on, he began to wonder how he’d get through the summer. Billy had some transfer credits which would allow him to graduate at the end of the coming fall semester. Sloane didn’t even want to think about graduation. He was merely dreading the summer.

The two were very careful to be discreet. Billy walked to Sloane’s house so his car wasn’t seen parked out front every Saturday night. Sometimes Sloane drove them to Cleveland for dinner and a concert or a play and they would return to his house late, make love until even later, and sleep late the next morning. But they made a point of not being seen as a couple on campus.

They talked about the summer. Billy had a job back in Stamford that paid so well he couldn’t afford to turn it down, especially since he would be able to live at home. Sloane was interested in a post-doctoral workshop in Melville at the University of Michigan, so he decided he might as well sign up for it. Six weeks in Ann Arbor would be more interesting than six weeks at home, and being there would help keep his mind off of how much he was missing Billy. So the two, promising to email each other every day, kissed goodbye after Billy’s last final in late May, and they separated.

Busy as he was, Sloane nevertheless thought the summer interminable. He always looked forward to the beginning of classes in the fall because he enjoyed his teaching. There was always for him a certain pleasure, a reassurance about the starting up once again of the academic year. This year, however, he was more excited than ever in anticipation of Billy’s return.

Billy called a day before Sloane expected him. He said he’d driven straight through the day before rather than stopping overnight. He’d moved all of his stuff back into his room at the fraternity house and was eager to see Ev.

“Can you come on over now? I’m free for the evening.”

“Be there in fifteen minutes. Shall I bring my toothbrush?”

“No, silly boy, you have one here.”

The two hardly slept at all. Throughout the night periods of lovemaking alternated with periods of rest. It was as if they were trying to catch up with everything they had missed during the entire summer.

The next morning Sloane let Billy sleep late. He had a lot of catching up to do. That afternoon there was a convocation for the student body and faculty at the field house, and both had other things to tend to, so they didn’t see each other. Or, to be more precise, they didn’t get to speak with each other. Billy saw Everett as the faculty, in academic garb, came onto the stage to sit behind the president and the dean, and Everett during the president’s overlong remarks about the coming academic year had ample time to spot Billy among the audience of students. He was sitting with Jack Claggart, the two of them exchanging grins and comments occasionally as friends might.

The next morning an obviously distressed Billy came into Sloane’s office and shut the door. The two embraced and kissed.

“Billy, baby, what’s got you so upset?”

“Terrible news, Ev. It’s Claggart.”

“What about him?”

“Well, first of all, somehow he pulled strings in the frat, and he’s my roommate when I thought I was going to have a single room this year. But that’s not all. He knows about us, Ev. And he’s threatened to go to the president. He says he can get both of us in all kinds of trouble for “improper fraternization,” or something like that.

Sloane hadn’t read the faculty handbook for a long time, but he knew there were fairly severe sanctions against faculty members who had “romantic” affairs with students. And the prejudice wasn’t just against the faculty member. Billy risked expulsion if a complaint were lodged and proven to be true. Worse, perhaps, there would be a hearing before a faculty court for Sloane and one before a student court for Billy.

As they clung together, Billy said, “I don’t see that we have any choice, Ev. We just can’t be together any more. There’s no way I’m gonna fool Claggart. I guess we’re lucky he isn’t going to President Tompkins about us. I can’t stand the thought that you’d lose your job over me or even be publicly reprimanded, for that matter.”

Sloane’s mind was racing, but he couldn’t think of any way out, either.

“Billy, I love you. And you know I wouldn’t use that term lightly. But I won’t be the cause of your being expelled or even publicly humiliated. I know you intend to go to graduate school next semester, and it would destroy all your plans if you had to transfer somewhere just now. A state university here or back in Connecticut would accept you as a transfer with your grades. They wouldn’t turn you down because of what we’ve done. But that would set your schedule back a year, probably. And I have no right, no intention of asking you to do that.”

With tears in his eyes, Billy said, “Ev, we never talked about what would happen when I graduated. You know, I’d change my grad school plans if there were any way we could be together.”

“Yes, baby, I know that. And I’d look for a job near you after you are settled somewhere. Right now, for the life of me, I can’t think of anything we can do except to submit to Claggart’s blackmail. I had no idea he was such a bastard.”

And so it was. The two saw each other occasionally in public that fall. Billy called Ev on his cell phone when he could. But he wouldn’t email Ev because he thought Claggart could get on to his computer. They didn’t even dare to meet somewhere because Claggart kept a very close eye on Billy. Thus it was a frustrating and lonely semester for both of them.

At the end of finals week, Billy came into Sloane’s office as the professor sat there reading exams. He shut the door, and the two hugged and kissed each other.

“I’m through, Ev. I’ve got the car packed, and I’m ready to head for Stamford.”

“When do you start your work at Miami?” Billy was going to work on a master’s in marine biology at the University of Miami.

“January 7^th.”