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   story codes: (Mb bb snuff anal oral ped) style: contemporary

   THE DUNGEON MASTER by Rafe Morgan (Copyright 2012)

   BOOK I: THE CAGE (Jacob)

   Chapter 4

   After four weeks Jacob's wound had scabbed over and then healed into a
flat shiny scar.

   "You're looking like a real warrior now," I told him, rubbing it with my
finger.  "I've seen kids that have been all scarred up.  Maybe you'll get
like them - like the kids that did the bull dance in ancient Crete."

   Any reference to old tales caught Jacob's interest and he looked up
curiously.  "What's that?"

   So I began telling him about Crete and the young boys who danced,
leaping on the backs of the ferocious bulls, cheating death by dodging the
needle sharp horns.

   Jacob listened fascinated.  "What happened if they missed?"

   "The bulls gored them.  If they were lucky the horn tip would just
crease or slash and the best dancers usually had a lot of scars from close
calls.  But other times the bull would win and get a horn right in..." I
pushed a fingertip into Jacob's bare stomach and he nodded in
understanding.

   "Then what happened?  They was deaded, right?"

   "Yeah.  No one survives a wound like that.  If the boy had danced well
one of the others would kill him quickly - just like we do.  But if he had
messed up..."

   "It was like slow," Jacob said, nodding.

   "Yeah, it was bad.  He would be like all twisting and squirming around
in pain for hours."

   The boy closed his eyes, and then after a moment took my hand.  "You
won't like never let me do that, will you Joe?"

   "You know I wouldn't," I said patting him tenderly.

   Jacob was wearing nothing but his training shorts and when we went to
the pool for a swim he stripped them off.  The fall nights had turned cool
but now the noon sun made it Indian Summer warm and after a spirited game
of tag he lay naked on a towel next to me absorbing the rays and listening
to more stories.

   I told him about Perseus defeating the Minotaur and how he escaped from
the labyrinth using Ariadne's ball of twine.  Then he wanted to hear about
the Trojan War again, his favorite tale, and we talked about the young
Achilles.

   "He was like the best, wasn't he."

   "Yes.  The best by far." My fingers slid down the hollow of his
backbone, touching each delicate point, and then I stroked the silky gloss
of his hard little butt and brushed a fingertip over the hip scar.  "Scars
are badges of honor.  Achilles was proud of his.  You should be, too."

   I could tell this made him happy because his eyes gleamed and he
squirmed in the little way he had.

   "Joe?" He asked later when he was standing beside me watching as I made
his lunch in the kitchen.  The boy was starting to fill out and had grown
at least an inch since I had taken him.

   "Yup."

   "When can I like fight again?"

   "Now that you're healed up, I guess any time." I cut his thick chicken
sandwich in half and then handed it to him.  "We got a lot of offers when
that first tape hit the net, but I've been putting them off.  I'll set up
one now if you're sure you're ready."

   The boy nodded solemnly, taking a bite out of the sandwich.  I waited
until he swallowed and then put a hand on his shoulder.  "You've seen what
it's like for real now.  You sure you want it?"

   He nodded again.  "Yeah."

   "You're not scared?"

   The boy lifted his eyes to mine.  "Kinda, maybe.  Like a little.  But...
But it's like..." He bit his lip, searching for the right words.  "It's
like this big hill where I used to ride my bike.  It was like really,
really steep and you got going like wicked fast - and at the bottom there's
like this stop sign 'cause like there's this road...  But you're going like
way too fast to stop and you go right across without looking, and you know
you can like get killed by a car, but like you do it anyway 'cause like
it's totally awesome when you shoot across..."

   It was a lot of words for him, a rare moment of articulate expression,
and I nodded in understanding.  "I know exactly what you mean."

   The boy gazed up at me with an expression that tugged at my heart.  "Did
you ever like do stuff like that, Joe?"

   "Yeah.  For sure.  If it ain't dangerous it ain't any fun." I pulled the
boy close and he leaned against me putting his head on my shoulder.  "I'll
start making arrangements.  We'll see if I can't set something up in the
next few days."

   Even though nothing had ever surfaced about Estaban in the media I
avoided the city where I had taken him and searched in a completely
different direction.  This involved lengthier drives, so I took Jacob with
me as a treat and we spent a few nights in a motel with a nice heated pool,
went to an Adventure Park, which he thoroughly enjoyed and, the next day,
leaving him in the room watching a pay-for-view movie I went out scouting.

   There were malls in the area, all full of cameras, and a quick walk
through yielded nothing interesting.  Using maps I had brought I drove the
van to a poorer section of town and parked in front of a deserted lot
overgrown with weeds.  The street was one block away from a big public
housing project and I circled its boundaries cautiously using adjoining
roads.

   Trash littered the patchy areas of grass - shards of broken glass
glistened on the sidewalks.  In the litter-strewn playgrounds, amid garish
wall graffiti, I saw a few groups of kids but most were black and none
appeared to be the right age.  A few stared at the lone white man walking
past, the rest simply ignored me, and I went on without stopping.

   It took the better part of an hour to walk all the way around.  Nothing
looking remotely like a prospect turned up and I was heading down the last
block toward the van when a young Hispanic boy, wearing a red bandanna over
orange frizzed hair and dressed in a faded orange sleeveless T-shirt, fell
into step beside me.

   "What up, Homes?" He asked with a leer.  "You lookin' for somethin'? 
Maybe I got it."

   "Could be." I slowed my pace, darting my eyes left and right, looking
for others.  The bandanna was a gang sign, and if I was dealing with a pack
I needed to know how many there were.

   But except for a fat black woman walking with a child on the other side
of the street I saw no one.  My eyes went back to the boy.  "Let's talk
about it."

   "Sure Homes," he sneered, smiling with shiny teeth.  "That's cool.  You
gotta' car?"

   "Yeah, up around there." I pointed to the corner.

   "Okay, Homes.  We talk in your car."

   I glanced at him several times as we walked along the sidewalk toward
the van.  He was very good-looking, with the white skin and clear features
seen in the Caribbean among those of nearly pure Spanish descent.  For a
young boy he was also very well built, the same height and weight as Jacob
and nearly as well defined.  The boy's shoulder and arm muscles showed to
advantage in the sleeveless shirt and I watched the boy as he moved,
admiring his lithe grace.

   When we reached the van he eyed me slyly.  "This your ride, Homes?  What
you got in it?  Good stuff?  Open it up.  Let's see..."

   I unlocked the panel door, shoved it open and gestured for him to look.
"Check it out.  Let's get in an' talk."

   But the boy was not listening.  Instead he was glancing swiftly from
side to side making sure we were unobserved - and that telling movement
gave away what was coming next.  Given my size and build I was surprised
that he was going to try it, but there was no time to ponder on whatever
had made him so foolishly overconfident.

   The sudden appearance of his switchblade was competent enough but I was
ahead of him, bending his wrist back until the blade clattered to the
sidewalk.  With a twist and one powerful shove I sent him sprawling onto
the floor of the van, jumped in behind him and then held the boy down with
a knee while pulling the door closed, and handcuffing him behind his back.

   "Maricon," the boy hissed, struggling, and I grabbed a handful of
bandanna and hair, pulling his head back until he grunted in pain.

   "You just made a big mistake, Chico," I warned him in Spanish.  "Don't
make an even bigger one by shooting off your stupid mouth.  Comprende?"

   I had his neck arched back so far he was unable to speak, but he grunted
and gave a little nod.  Dropping his head I double checked the handcuffs
and then climbed into the front seat.  There was no one visible out on the
sidewalks and the houses to either side of the weed grown lot where I had
parked looked empty.

   "Make no sound, Chico, if you wish to grow any older."

   I gave this warning to the boy over my shoulder, and then got out to
make a further check of the surroundings.

   The switchblade had bounced into the gutter beneath the van.  I
retrieved it, and then gazed around, studying the neighborhood houses. 
There was no movement anywhere, and no sounds except for the noise of cars
on a boulevard several blocks away.  Across the street all the windows had
their blinds drawn.

   Climbing back into the van I slid behind the front seats and sat down on
the metal floor next to the boy who was stretched out on his stomach,
wrists cuffed behind his back.  We were so close I could have touched him
anywhere I wished, but I kept my hands away.

   "I think now we can have our little talk," I said in Spanish and the boy
replied in the same language.

   "Let me go."

   This made me smile.  "Why should I?  You were going to murder me.  What
I should do is kill you."

   The boy shook his head violently.  "I was only going to rob you."

   "So?  You admit it.  You are a thief, and a thief is a nuisance.  It
would still be a good thing to kill you."

   He squirmed, trying to turn his head so he could look at me.  "I made a
mistake.  I did not know you were a player."

   "A mistake?  Yes, Chico.  I think we can both agree you made a mistake."

   Reaching over I lifted the boy's sturdy bare shoulders so he could get
his head around and in the dim light his eyes flicked to mine.

   "So, you think I am a player and that is true.  But I perceive that in
your own young way, you are a player, too.  Perhaps if we talk to one
another we can turn this mistake you have made into something of value.  Do
you agree?"

   I could see that the boy was frightened and trying to conceal it.  He
gave a little nod of his head.  "Yes."

   "You asked me what I was looking for.  I came here looking for a boy."

   He squirmed, shifting his feet.  "I am no puta!"

   Shrugging I answered mildly, "I did not say you were.  But, as to that -
" I showed him the switchblade.  "I could already have cut your clothes off
and raped you if I wanted to - and what could you do about it?"

   He squirmed again looking at me.  "You would not do that."

   "Really?  You seem very sure.  And why would I not?  You are a very
handsome boy.  I like the way you look."

   "I..." The boy paused for a moment, and then went on, "I just do not
think you would."

   "I see.  And are you such a good judge of character?  A few moments ago
you thought I was weak enough to let you kill me."

   "Only to rob you, Jefe'!  That was all!"

   "So you say.  But you made a big mistake when you took the chance.  Let
us try to avoid mistakes in the future, yes?"

   "Yes, Senor."

   "So, you have not asked me why I needed a boy."

   "Why do you need a boy, Senor?"

   The kid wiggled, trying to get his cuffed hands into a more comfortable
position.

   "Your arms hurt?"

   "A little, Senor."

   "You will stay in the handcuffs.  I have not yet decided if I can trust
you.  I need a boy for a special movie.  He has to be good-looking, strong,
quick, and..." I paused for a moment watching his eyes.  "And he must want
to make a lot of money."

   "How much, Senor?"

   "Ten large."

   The kid's eyes widened.  "I am that boy, Senor!"

   "Really?  You?  But you are only a thief.  You have said so yourself. 
You wear the colors, but I see no crew.  You are out here boosting on your
own because you are greedy and will not share.  You have no loyalty.  You
probably cannot be trusted!"

   This tongue-lashing stung him to reaction and he protested, "I can wear
my colors!  I am in the crew!  No one can say I am not!"

   I shrugged.  "But, as a sideline just for yourself, you jack a few
people here and there."

   The boy looked away.  "Everyone needs money..."

   "So it is for the money, that you do it?"

   His eyes returned to mine.  "So?"

   I just need to know, that is all.  So, you have some loyalty, but for
enough money you will do anything?"

   He squirmed, looking away and said again.  "Everybody needs money..."

   Leaning to one side I got the wallet out of my back pocket and showed it
to him.  "Here is what you might have had if your plan had succeeded.  How
much do you think is in it?"

   "I don't know." He shifted around him patiently.  "Senor, what about the
ten thousand?" As the Spanish words "dien mille'" rolled off his tongue I
sensed his greed.  "I will be the boy you want.  For the ten thousand I
will do it."

   "I have not told you what that is yet."

   He shrugged again.  "Anything.  I do not care.  I will do it."

   "For the money?"

   "Yes."

   "Good.  Then let me fuck you right now."

   The boy eyed me warily.  "No."

   "Really?  So it is not true that you will do anything."

   This placed him in a dilemma and I could see him thinking about what to
say.  Finally it was, "I have not yet seen any money!"

   "Ah!  You must see the money.  I understand." I held up the wallet. 
"How do you know it is not in here?"

   Shaking his head the boy told me scornfully, "No one carries so much
money in their pocket.  It would be crazy!"

   "So maybe I am crazy," I told him, shrugging.  "Let me fuck you right
now and you can have all the money that is in this wallet.  I will give it
to you before we start."

   There was a pause of perhaps two heartbeats while he thought about it,
and then his head shook.  "No."

   "Too bad," I said, opening the wallet.  "Look what you could have
had..." I took out a sheaf of one hundred dollar bills, fanning them where
the boy could see.  "Ten of them.  One thousand dollars."

   The boy licked his lips.  "All right..."

   "All right?"

   "You can fuck me."

   "For one thousand dollars."

   "Yes." He squirmed a little and then watched as I took away five of the
bills.  "What about for five hundred?"

   He licked his lips again and there was a long pause.  "Okay, five
hundred..."

   I took away two more bills.  "What if we make it three?"

   "No."

   We looked at each other, and then I put one bill back into the fan. 
"Four?"

   A very long pause while he bit his lip thinking, and then finally, "No."

   I put the fifth Bill back in again.  "But for five?"

   The boy's head twitched.  "Make it six."

   But now I shook my head.  "Five or nothing."

   "Okay." He nodded quickly.  "Five."

   "Very well." Returning five of the hundreds to my wallet I placed it
back in my pocket and then carefully folded the five remaining bills into a
narrow wad.  Pulling up the boy's shirt I found the utility shorts he was
wearing much too loose in the waist for the wad to be held there and
stuffed the bills into the taut elastic waist of his boxer briefs.  Beneath
the thin cloth was the jut of his hard curved butt and I brushed my palm
over it once, very lightly.

   "The money is yours.  Don't lose it.  Later, at a better time, we will
do it.  But now I know your price.  Five hundred dollars.  For ten thousand
I shall expect much more.

   The boy thought about it.  "You can fuck me in the mouth."

   I smiled scornfully and shook my head.  "I think even more than that. 
This film - as you have correctly and cleverly guessed - is pornographic,
but it is not all sex.  It is more expensive.  A death film.  What they
call in English a 'snuff' film."

   The boy stared at me and for an instant there was something like panic
flickering behind his gaze.

   "Of course, we already have a boy to be killed." My reassuring tone
calmed him.  "That is not what I came here for.  What we need is the other
one who will do the killing.  Can you be this one?"

   "Yes." There was no hesitation in this answer.

   I peered at him.  "How do you know?  Have you ever killed anyone?"

   "Sure." He said this with an indifferent shrug.  Now that he thought he
knew his role the boy was putting on a little show of bravado.  "Once at
school, this homie that was holdin' out.  An' when we was on with the
Crypts I bladed one." He gave me a proud look.  "Policia still don't know
who it was."

   "You trust me enough to tell me this?"

   The boy stared at me a moment, then nodded.  "Yes."

   It was a significant thing and I nodded back solemnly.  "Thank you.  I
honor your trust and will trust you as well.  We will go now." I got up and
started climbing over the engine hump into the front seat.

   "I can have the ten thousand dollars?"

   "I will give you five thousand as soon as we are there and the other
five thousand after you have performed on the other boy."

   "Take these handcuffs off."

   "Not until we are out of the city." I started the engine and the boy
cried out, "My arms hurt."

   "For ten thousand dollars you can endure some discomfort," I said to him
over my shoulder.  "Remain quiet and be patient."

   Knowing that Jacob could occupy himself for hours with movies and video
games at the motel I made a decision to secure this new prize quickly and
headed directly for the interstate and the almost two-hour drive home. 
True to my word, before getting on to the big super highway I stopped and
uncuffed the boy, letting him up into the front where he sneered at the old
AM/FM radio.

   "This all you got Homes?" We were talking English again.  The boy tuned
around for a while finding nothing that he liked, and then switched off the
set in disgust.  He dug out the wad of money I had given him and examined
each bill meticulously.  "When you givin' me the five thousand?"

   "As soon as we get there.  It's about two hours."

   We were up on the interstate now and the van's six-cylinder engine was
roaring just beneath us so I had to talk loudly over the noise.  "What's
your name?"

   "Orlando."

   The boy rubbed his hand over the vinyl seat cushion, and then shook his
head.  "This ride sucks, Homes.  Ain't this thing got no A/C?"

   "Nope.  It's strictly business.  Just a heater."

   "You need some better wheels, bro." Orlando looked at me in pity. 
"Player needs tunes, the A/C, lights, plush seats...  Player need to be
stylin' bro!"

   "Make us some money on this film, Orlando, and I'll work on it!"

   This seemed to amuse him and he played with his money for a while and
then asked, "Who this kid we gonna' off, Homes?"

   "He's a runaway.  Been peddling his ass on the street.  We picked him up
about a month ago for his looks.  He's a pretty boy.  Great on camera. 
Your size and weight I'd say.  How old are you?"

   "Fifteen."

   This was an obvious lie but I let it go.  "He's younger than you then.
Thirteen, maybe fourteen."

   "White boy?" Orlando asked this with a sneer.

   "Yeah.  He's white."

   The Hispanic boy curled his lip in contempt.  "I stick him a couple a
times, Homes.  He be dead before he hit the ground."

   "No, no," I told him, waving my hand.  "That's way too quick.  Nobody's
gonna' pay to see that.  You gotta' do it slow.  Christ!  This kid's
valuable.  We gotta' get the most out of him and drag it out.  You gotta'
mess around with him."

   Orlando nodded his head.  "Slice him a little first, huh?"

   "Yeah.  Stuff like that.  It'll be good if you can get him to scream."

   The boy looked over at me.  "You want I should fuck him?  I can fuck him
then kill him."

   "Yeah.  That would be good.  And when you kill him, we'll give him a
fake knife or something so it looks like you guys are fighting when you
carve him up.  Just don't do it too quick."

   "I take homie the white boy down slow," Orlando assured me.

   It was just past noon on that warm fall day.  Golden sunlight filled the
van's interior, bringing orange glints to Orlando's curly hair and glowing
on his bare arms and shoulders.  The boy's smooth light brown skin was
flawless, without a single hair and so glossy in the light it looked oiled.
Long dark eyelashes and finely drawn mouth and nose brought the boy's
handsome Latin features to the verge of prettiness and beneath the loose
cloth of his utility shorts I saw the outline of what I was sure where slim
and elegant legs, like a dancer's.

   The boy was very beautiful and there was a dainty, almost feminine
quality to him despite his sturdy build.  I was hard under my clothes and I
badly wanted to touch him but feared risking another bidding contest that
would weaken the authority I had established over him.  I kept my hands on
the steering wheel.

   Almost as if he had read my mind the kid looked at me and then, over the
engine noise, said, "Check this out, Homes!"

   He pulled up the orange shirt, baring a taut little stomach that had
clear lines of definition on its silky surface.  Then he slid down a little
in the seat and tugged at the waist of his boxer briefs and utility shorts
on the right side to reveal the lower part of his belly and groin crease.
On the skin there was a glistening two-inch horizontal scar that he pointed
to with pride.  "That from the dude in the Crypts.  Nobody beat me in a
fight, Homes!"

   It was another obvious lie.  The thing was an old appendectomy scar, but
pity and a respect for the boy's feelings kept my face from revealing this.
Instead I nodded appreciatively, giving him the admiration he so obviously
wanted.  I reached over and Orlando pulled his clothing down even further.
"Touch it, Homes.  You can."

   The boy's pants were now pulled down so far I could see both the top of
his slender thigh and the base of his penis which was in a smooth hairless
groin.

   My fingertips brushed over the shiny raised scar and Orlando turned a
little toward me so it would be easier to reach.  Inches away, over in his
groin, I saw the base of his penis swell.

   "Wow!  Some scar!" I told the boy.  "That kid almost got you!"

   "Yeah, but I get him first, Holmes."

   When my fingers slid along his groin crease feeling the muscle in the
top of his thigh Orlando rolled toward me a little more so I could go all
the way to his hip.  "Nobody ever beat me in a fight," he bragged, watching
the movement of my hand.  Then he turned his head to look up at me.  "What
you be, Holmes?  How you get so big and fast?  You don't be no white guy!"

   "I've been all over, learned stuff in a lot of places." I rubbed the
glassy smoothness of the boy's hip and then glided my fingertips back along
his crease where they pressed gently on the engorged base of his penis. 
Almost as if he wanted me to do more Orlando held still, but instinct told
me to let more of the initiative be his and my fingers returned to the
scar, rubbing over it a few more times before I gave the boy's hip a tender
pat.  With a look at me that I found hard to interpret he sat back up in
his seat and then fanned out his five hundred dollar bills again to admire
them.

   "What we gonna' do when we gets there, Homes?  We gonna' make the movie
today?"

   "Naw.  We'll shoot that tomorrow." I made an off hand gesture.  "That
other kid's doin' wet scenes today.  We'll rest him up, then shoot the
thing with you in the morning.  That'll give us time to wrap up by the
afternoon, and we can drop you off when we truck out.  Tonight you can hang
at the crib.  You gotta' be up early though.  It takes an hour to do
makeup."

   "What that, Homes?" Orlando gave me a suspicious look.

   "You know..." I made an impatient gesture and then told him in Spanish,
"In films actors have to be made up so their faces and skin don't look pale
in the lights.  Perhaps you have seen this on TV.  I will show you in the
morning." Reaching over I touched the boy lightly on his knee and then took
my hand away.  "I want you to look good for this, Orlando.  Sometimes the
camera can play tricks, but if you film well and are as good as you say -
this could lead to much bigger things."

   "What you mean, bigger?"

   "Like big parts in bigger films...  Lots and lots more money."

   Orlando stared at me.  "What I gotta' do?"

   "Just do like you said he was gonna' do.  Don't kill that other kid too
fast.  We need a good scene.  Let me handle the film part.  I'm gonna' make
you up perfectly tomorrow morning so everything will be exactly right.  If
this works like I think, you're going to get a lot more."

   The boy leaned back on his seat and pulled his shirt up again to touch
his scar.  "I do it like I said, Homes." Then he asked, curiously, "What
that wet stuff the other kid doin'?"

   "We got him set up over at a motel for a lot of sex shots," I explained,
making up what occurred to me.

   Orlando tossed his head.  "He like gettin' fucked an' shit?"

   "Yeah.  He'll be pretty used up by the time you get him."

   "Don't matter, Homes.  I run up in him, then start with the blade."

   "Not too fast," I cautioned.

   "No way, Homes," the boy assured me.  "I do him slow like you want." He
stirred in his seat, pulled his shirt up again and then glanced over at me
to ask, "How much further to this place we goin' to?"

   "It's a ways more."

   "This boring, Homes.  You need more stuff in this ride."

   He fiddled with the radio some more, finally getting some hip hop that
he liked and turned it up to the point of distortion on the cheap dashboard
speaker.  For a while he sat bouncing in the seat, rapping out the lyrics
while snapping his fingers.  This occupied him for a while, but eventually
he slumped down and the next time I looked over the boy had fallen asleep,
his bandana'd head slumped over toward me and his mouth half open.

   I was touched by this.  It was the signal, perhaps an unconscious one,
that the boy had decided to trust me.  His delicate features looked younger
and even prettier relaxed in sleep, revising my estimate of his age
downward.  It now seemed possible that he must not be as old as Jacob and
my new guess was a well-developed twelve or early thirteen.

   On the assumption that the boy was accustomed to the noise I left the
radio blasting and continued on my drive, but it was hard not to keep
glancing over at him because the sleeping boy was so lovely.  He stirred a
little when we took the exit off the interstate, but did not wake fully
until I turned the volume down approaching my residential neighborhood.

   "Duck down," I told him, nudging his bare shoulder.  "We're trying not
to attract attention around here."

   Orlando was apparently familiar enough with stealthy activity to not
question this.  He ducked into the foot well and I drove down the street to
the house with him out of sight.  Once we were past the big hedges at the
foot of the driveway I tapped him and he sat up and then stared at the
house.

   "Nice crib, Homes."

   "Yeah.  We rented it for this project."

   Orlando nodded in appreciation as the automatic garage door went up for
the van and then back down again once we pulled in.  We got out and
entering the basement he stared around at all the weight equipment.

   "This nice, Homes.  This where you work out, right?" He glanced up at me
for a moment, and then added, "You know who you look like?  You look like
that Chuck Norris dude..."

   I led him to Jacob's bedroom and the boy went immediately to the wide
screen TV.  "Yo, Homes!  This like a kick ass set!  You got porno?"

   "Yeah, not here though," I said patting his bare shoulder.  "Mostly we
use this to check out the tapes we shoot each day.  There's a bunch of
movies and game stuff, though.  Down here.  Check it out.  Use whatever you
want.  You know how to run this stuff?"

   "Sure, Homes." The boy gave a confident shrug.  "I got all this in my
crib, too."

   But there was just enough uncertainty in his tone so that I went all
over it with him anyway, demonstrating the controls.  Then I patted his
shoulder again.  "This will be your room for the night.  Think you'll be
okay here for a while?  I gotta' go check on the other kid and let the crew
know you're here so they can set up for tomorrow."

   Orlando gave another shrug.  "This be good, Homes." Already he was
eyeing the movie titles.

   "You got a bathroom over here," I told him, pointing.  "There's snacks
in that little refrigerator.  I won't be gone too long - a few hours maybe.
When I come back we'll have dinner - anything you want." Orlando had
already picked an action adventure movie and was putting it in the DVD.

   "Listen," I said walking to the door.  "I'm gonna' lock this door on
you. It's the rules when no one else is home.  Plus when the other kid
comes back we don't want him to see you.  You cool with that?  I don't want
this to mess it up between us."

   "We cool, Homes." Orlando looked around and then eyed the bed.  "The
white kid been in here?"

   "Yeah.  In fact this is his room.  He's probably gonna' be pissed
tonight because he can't use his stuff."

   Orlando made a rude gesture.  "He not gonna' be needin' it anymore after
tomorrow."

   I nodded and tossed a grin at him, then went out, locking the door
behind me.

   In the workout area I pumped my fist and then, heart thumping with
excitement over the quality of this opponent, I got into the van and
started the return trip to pick up Jacob.  All the way down the interstate
my fingers drummed on the steering wheel as I planned for the next day and
when I pulled up at the motel I was still jittery with excitement.

   Jacob noticed it the moment I came into the room.  He was sprawled face
down on the bed clad in an old pair of workout shorts playing a video game
and ordinarily when I came in he would look up, smile and then finish
whatever screen he was on.  But there was something in my expression this
time that made him drop the controller box and prop himself up on one
elbow.

   "You've got an opponent," I told him, sitting down on the edge of the
big bed.  "It's all set up.  You fight tomorrow morning, live on the
Internet.  That'll be prime time over in the Far East where the big
audiences will be."

   The boy gave me a tense nod, brushed his long hair back and twisted
around to sit up with his legs crossed under him.

   "That first fight got you way more attention than I thought," I said,
continuing.  "You're like a big up and comer.  There's only seven other
kids whose tapes had more hits last month.  In the novice division you're
the hot item.  There were a lot, like nearly a hundred, offers - but the
one you're fighting tomorrow I think is the best for you."

   "Who is he?" Jacob's eyes had the widened look he got when he was
concentrating.

   "I'll tell you on the way home.  We gotta' get back so you can rest. 
Tomorrow you gotta' be up early so I can make you up.  You gotta' look good
for the cameras.  There'll be a big audience watching."

   "Will there be people there?"

   "Not yet.  Not in this country.  We'll have to travel to see that, an'
if you keep winning we'll be doing that.  You're gonna' like Bangkok.  They
got palm trees and elephants.  Sometimes you fight at night in like these
old temples with torches all around."

   Jacob's eyes widened even more.  "Awesome!"

   "Yeah, it is.  But forget about that now.  Concentrate on this fight. 
Take them one at a time!"

   We did a quick cleanup, gathered the few things we had brought and then
got into the van.  I settled our bill in cash at the front desk and minutes
later we were on the interstate with the engine noise around us, heading
for home.

   "Here's what we know," I told Jacob, who was still wearing only the
brief shorts.  His hard sculpted young body glowed in the sunset and I
reached over to stroke his thigh.  "This kid you're fighting was the hot
item before you.  That's why his handlers are willing to come to us for
this match.  They want him to have the spot of hot new sensation back again
and they're betting a lot of money that he can beat you."

   I turned to grin at Jacob.  "By the way - how does it feel to be the new
hot sensation?"

   "Awesome!" The boy replied, grinning back.

   "Good!  Beat this kid for me and hang on to the title!  He's your age;
almost identical in height and weight.  He'll fight smarter than the last
kid.  He's got some experience - three kills so far, but all against easy
marks.  With the training you've had you'll be the toughest opponent he's
ever faced.  My money's on you all the way.  I'd be willing to bet he'll be
over-confident.  Size him up like I taught you, and then go after his
weakness!  Be strong!"

   "Yes," Jacob assured me, nodding when I squeezed his leg.

   "Now - here's a part you may not like.  He's come a long way and he's
the visitor so he gets to sleep in your room tonight.  You can sleep
upstairs with me, all right?"

   "Yes." Jacob nodded again, not really minding this because he liked
sleeping with me upstairs, something he did not get to do very often.

   "No midnight swims, though!" I cautioned.  "You need your rest.  And
no...  Well, you know what..."

   This made him laugh and he leaned over on the seat and then stretched
into my lap pushing his shorts down at the same time.  His penis was
standing up rigidly hard and I rubbed my fingers on the slick stretched
skin of the shaft as he squirmed to get comfortable.

   "None of this once we get home," I growled and he giggled.  "I don't
want that kid to get even a glimpse of you before the fight," I said,
continuing.  "Let's not give him any information he could use.  I may have
to lock you for a while in the little bedroom.  Can you deal with that?"

   Jacob nodded his head but I knew I had lost his attention.  Instead he
was focused on unbuckling my pants.  Once he had the zipper open he took
out my stiff penis and began to tongue it greedily.

   "Okay - okay," I told him, stroking the boy's glowing silky warmth. 
"Just be ready tomorrow..." Sliding my palm over Jacob's hard curved butt
cheeks I pushed into his crease and the boy squirmed happily as I thrust
two fingers up into his rectum.

   When we reached the house I began the complicated job of caring for my
two fighters.  First I put Jacob into the small bedroom along with a stack
of his favorite video magazines and a snack.  "I gotta' pee," he told me,
as I got ready to lock him in.

   "I'll get it open for you in a sec."

   With him secure I circled past the weight bench and opened the door to
the big bedroom.  Orlando was stretched out on the bed watching a movie at
ear splitting volume.  He looked up as I came in.

   "How 'bout something to eat?" I yelled.  He nodded eagerly and got up to
turn down the sound while I entered the bathroom, unlocked Jacob's door,
looked in for a moment to smile at him, and then retreated back to the big
bedroom, locking its connecting door.

   "What do you like?" I asked Orlando.  "How 'bout pizza?"

   This met with his approval and we went upstairs where the boy prowled
around, looking over the house while I called in an order on the kitchen
phone.

   In the living room I found him peering at a framed travel poster that
decorated the wall.  "Nice place, huh?" I said and he shrugged.

   "They got way better on MTV.  When I gonna' see the five thousand,
Holmes?"

   "Right now."

   I led him to the bedroom office and from a small safe under the desk I
pulled a crisp bundle of new bills.

   "This is ten thousand," I said showing it to him.  Removing half I
handed the wad of bills to him, and then held up the remainder.  "Here's
what you'll get tomorrow." I let him watch me put it into the safe and
closed it up.  "Want to take a swim while we wait for the pizza?" I pointed
out the window to where the pool lights were glowing in the evening
dimness.

   Orlando gave me a wary look.  "I doan' know how t' swim, Homes."

   "I do," I assured him.  "And I won't let anything happen to you.  You're
way too valuable.  I'll stay with you the whole time.  Come on..."

   Grabbing an older pair of shorts for myself I took the boy downstairs to
find a swimsuit he could use.  There were some Speedo's in Jacob's wardrobe
cabinet that I had bought for him during the summer and I handed one of
these to Orlando indicating that he should put it on.  He looked at it
doubtfully but started taking off his shoes and I left him alone, going out
to the workout area to change into my shorts.

   When Orlando emerged a few minutes later, wearing the Speedo, the sight
of his almost naked body took my breath.  The boy was stunningly beautiful
= there were no other words for it - and I had difficulty concealing a
sudden overwhelming desire for him.

   Like Jacob he was perfectly defined, but where Jacob's lean body had the
hard muscular curves of an athlete, this boy was formed in the longer more
flowing lines of a swimmer or dancer.  Both had the same lithe grace:
Jacob's from his months of intense wrestling training; this boy's...

   As he moved toward me, perfect young body gleaming in the fluorescent
lights, I saw that like all the rest of him it was a beauty that was
natural.

   "What's that?" He said, pointing to the door of the small bedroom.

   The erection I had was hard enough to be painful and I shifted position
to conceal it.  "The other kid's in there," I told him.  "We got him locked
in.  He's pissed because you're in his room.  I told him he could fight you
for it tomorrow."

   Orlando made a rude gesture, and then followed me upstairs.

   Out by the pool he was surprisingly timid, but with a lot of reassurance
and patient coaxing I finally got him into the water at the shallow part.
By supporting him with a hand on his stomach I rode him back and forth a
little which he seemed to enjoy.  At first his pretty, slender legs just
dangled uselessly but I taught him how to kick and eventually he was able
to make a splash.

   "Very good," I told him, lifting him up onto the edge so he can rest. 
"I know you were a little scared, but you're doing great." Stroking the
swell of muscle in his thigh I held his eyes with mine.  "Doing the thing
that scares you takes a lot of courage, Orlando.  I'm very proud of you."

   This last I told him in Spanish and I felt a little tremor go through
him.  He bit his lip and then told me, also in Spanish, "When I was little
I went to the pool and these big kids held me under the water.  It scared
me.  I never went again."

   I squeezed his leg and then stroked it.  "That would have scared anyone.
There is no shame.  Everyone has fear.  Only the coward says he is not
afraid.  True courage is to face your fear and overcome it..." Once more I
patted his thigh.  "I will say this again, Orlando, because I mean it.  I
am proud of you."

   Just then I heard the pizza delivery coming up the driveway and I hopped
up out of the pool.  "Here comes our dinner.  You like Coke or Pepsi?"

   "Pepsi."

   "You got it."

   We ate our pizza at the kitchen counter and I noted that Orlando was a
fussy eater, folding each slice carefully and taking little bites until it
was gone and then licking his fingers like a cat.  Despite this, he
demonstrated a growing boy's appetite by eating his entire half plus a
slice of mine.

   "More swimming?" I said afterwards and he nodded.

   "Okay."

   Back in the pool I rode him around some more because he enjoyed that and
then, very gently, I began tossing him so that he landed just a few feet
away with a splash.  Like every boy I had ever known he loved it.

   "Do that again, Homes," he demanded laughing.

   I held the lovely boy around the waist while he rubbed the water out of
his eyes.  "You like that?"

   "Yeah!"

   "Okay.  Here you go again."

   Toss followed toss and gradually, as the boy gained in confidence, I
threw him higher and farther.  He reveled in this, kicking his legs as he
went up in the air, squealing like a very young child.  He took delight in
the splashes he made and always struggled to get back to me as quickly as
he could, demanding I do it again.

   Soon I discovered there was something else he wanted as well.  He liked
the feel of my hands on him and found ways to press himself against me as
much as he could.  In his Speedo the boy was virtually naked and silky
flesh was always there beneath my palms no matter where I put them. 
Orlando's body was so perfect it made me shiver to touch him and as I
discovered he wanted it I stroked my hands all over him before each toss.

   The boy's crotch was bulging from the swell of his trapped penis but I
stopped myself from untying his waist string, wanting the initiative to be
his and curious to see if he would do it himself.

   He did not, but he often glanced up at me as my fingers rubbed over him
and several times took my hand to guide it into his crotch.

   Eventually my shoulders tired and I told him we had to stop.

   "You too strong to be tired, Homes," the boy complained, but allowed me
to lift him up onto the pool edge.

   "Tomorrow you got a job to do," I reminded him.  "And you need to rest.
It's time you got to your room."

   Orlando sneered at this scornfully, declaring, "It ain't late." But I
shook my head.

   "You can stay up as late as you want with the TV.  Just make sure you
can do what you gotta' do tomorrow.  Don't forget, I'll be getting you up
early to do makeup."

   Orlando made a face.  "Shit, Homes."

   "You wanna' be a movie star you gotta' pay the price," I told him with a
pat on the shoulder.

   We went downstairs to his room where I closed the door which locked us
in.  "I'll get the bathroom open for you.  The other kid won't need it."

   "He not gonna' need nothin' after tomorrow, Homes," Orlando assured me.

   Cautiously I unlocked the bathroom door, checking to be sure Jacob was
not in there.  When I looked into the small bedroom I saw Jacob asleep in
the bed.  Closing his door quietly I locked it and then took some towels
off the rack and returned to the big room giving one of the towels to
Orlando.

   "You should be okay now.  Don't stay up too late.  I'll be down early
tomorrow to get you set."

   He looked at me for a moment as if coming to a decision, and then sat
down on the edge of the bed.  Throwing the towel aside he leaned back on
his hands, spread his legs and looked up at me to ask, "When we gonna'
fuck?"

   The erection I still had throbbed and I had to shift position.  "Now," I
told him and went over to switch off the overhead lights.

   In the dim glow still coming from the bathroom, Orlando stretched out on
the bed, tugging at the knotted string of his Speedo.  I helped him with it
and then he lifted his hips so I could strip off the satin brief.  Freed of
constriction the boy's penis lifted into hard jutting rigidity and I saw
that the shaft was longer than Jacob's, nearly the same length as my own,
but very slender.  Its circumcised tip was quivering with the beat of
Orlando's heart, but when I stroked his hip I discovered the boy was also
trembling.

   "You sure you want to do this?" I asked, caressing his shoulder.  The
muscle was firm there, the rounded shape smooth as glass.

   The boy squirmed a little.  "I say I gonna' do it, Homes.  So, I gonna'
do it."

   "You are keeping your word," I told him, switching to Spanish.  The
boy's glossy skin was slick and warm.  I kept stroking him very gently. 
"That is a very good thing.  But this is like the swimming, Orlando.  You
are afraid of something.  You know I like you very much.  I will not do
anything to hurt you.  Why are you afraid?"

   He bit his lip and his eyes flicked to mine, but he did not answer.

   "It's all right.  You can tell me.  I'll understand.  You know I will.
You've done this before, haven't you."

   His head jerked in a little nod.

   "How old were you?" I asked, continuing to use Spanish.

   "Six," he finally admitted.  Then he turned his head to me.  "It hurt. I
told him to stop, but he kept doing it."

   "Who was it?"

   "My cousin.  He was fourteen then." The boy paused for a moment and then
added, "He lives in Puerto Rico."

   "But you moved here.  How old were you when you moved?"

   "Seven."

   "Your English is pretty good.  Listen, I'm going to do something..."

   Leaning over I kissed Orlando on the lips and he stared up at me without
moving.  "Did that hurt?" The boy shook his head.  "Did it hurt when I took
you swimming?"

   "Uh-uh."

   "I won't do things that hurt you," I told him, stroking his glossy
shoulder once more.  "Do you trust me?"

   "Yes."

   "If I do something that hurts, you tell me and I'll stop.  You don't
have to be afraid, Orlando.  I like you."

   The boy had stopped trembling but he was still tense.  I leaned over and
kissed him again.  "I want to do this very much, Orlando.  I really like
you.  But you can say no and it's okay.  Do you want to do it?"

   He stared up at me and then gave a little nod of his head.

   "It'll be all right," I assured him.  "Trust me..."

   Sitting up for a moment I stripped off my shorts, and then stretched out
again, naked, at the boy's side.  In the dim light I saw the gleam of
Orlando's eyes watching me as I slid my palm across the satiny smoothness
of his chest, feeling the hard little points of his nipples.  Then my hand
drifted over the silky sweep of his flat taut stomach.

   As he had been in the pool, the boy was comfortable with this, liking
the touch of my hands on his body.  When my fingers drifted down over the
muscled gloss of his tight little lower belly they found the long slender
erection jutting out of his hairless groin and as I began to rub I heard
the catch in Orlando's breath as he lifted his hips very slightly,
squeezing his butt to harden himself even more.

   The boy was all warm fabric, velvety armpits, silken buttocks and the
smooth sheen of satin on the insides of his thighs.  Slowly and
deliberately I put tongue and hands to these textures until Orlando was
stretched out, hands over his head, breathing through his half open mouth
with his eyes closed as he tensed his young body in pleasure.

   With tenderness, I rolled the boy into my arms and he pressed the full
length of his smooth warmth against me, tucking his head into my shoulder.
His hair smelled of chlorine from the pool and I kissed it, sliding a palm
over the span of his shoulders and then down the taper of his back.  The
boy's sturdy body was glassy smooth and it glistened in the dim light like
polished marble.

   Despite the graceful elegance of his build, Orlando was well muscled,
the little swells and hollows beautifully defined.  There was no wiry
compactness, but instead the flowing lines of perfect symmetry with just
enough width of shoulder, taper of waist and swell of thigh muscle to hint
at strength within.

   My hand slid further down to glide back and forth over the silky curves
of Orlando's butt and he pressed closer to me, pulling a leg up over my
hip. When my fingertip glided down his crease I felt the boy tremble and
kissing his hair again, I gave him reassurance by stroking and petting.

   Very gently I pushed my finger between the mounds of his butt to press
at the base of his taut little scrotum.  Orlando caught his breath and
wrapped his arms around me, pulling his knee up higher on my hip.  With
tiny wiggling movements I brushed my finger back over the sensitive skin
until the tip filled the dimple of the boy's small anus and he tensed
again, his breaths coming faster.

   "It's all right," I whispered, stroking the boy.  "I won't let anything
hurt you."

   There was something there, a tiny welt on one side of his opening that I
could feel as my fingertip rubbed over it.  Without pressing into the ring
I slid my finger back and forth across his anus until the boy's trembling
stopped and he squirmed in pleasure.

   "Feel nice?"

   He nodded his head without lifting it off my shoulder.

   "Wait just a sec," I told him.  Releasing the boy I put him on his back,
leaning over to give him a quick kiss on the mouth, and then got up to
obtain an absorbent pad and tube of KY from the bathroom.  Orlando lifted
his hips so I could place the pad under him, and then rolled back into my
arms the moment I stretched out next to him again.

   "This will make it feel even better," I explained, uncapping the tube of
KY.

   Orlando turned his head to watch as I squeezed a glob of lubricant onto
my fingers.  When I smeared it onto his butt crease he made a tiny noise at
the cool touch of the jelly, and then pulled his knee back up over my hip
to open himself.  I pushed the slippery KY into his crack, and then gobbed
out more until his anus was coated with it.  Only then did I put a finger
onto the opening and press.

   Orlando took a quick anxious breath as my fingertip slid into his ring.
His anus tightened around me, but I could tell by the way he held himself
that I was not hurting him.  Penetrating the boy was easy because his ring
was stretched and after a few seconds my fingertip slid up into the heat of
his rectum until the full length of my finger was buried in him.  Orlando
quivered as I wiggled the tip, but it was from pleasure not from pain, and
when I pressed on his tiny nub the boy moaned softly, squirming in ecstasy.

   Slowly and gently I inserted a second finger into him and as it slid up
the boy quivered again, breathing faster.  Eyes closed he lifted his head
off my shoulder, blindly offering his lips to be kissed and when our mouths
touched he opened his so my tongue could go deep into him.

   For a long time we writhed together on the bed, my tongue and fingers
penetrating the boy as he clung to me squirming to rub his hard slender
penis on my hip.  Then a throb pulsed deep within his loins contracting
around my thrusting fingers and the boy jerked, moaning in passion.

   Withdrawing from him I repositioned the boy, nudging to roll him over
onto his other side, which Orlando did without hesitation, all his fear and
apprehension gone.  Placing his rounded butt against my groin I slipped an
arm around his slim little waist, and then slid the blunt tip of my thick
Rod into his slickly lubricated crease.

   The boy squirmed, eager for me now, and pushed back the moment he felt
the tip at his opening, popping me through into the moist sweet warmth
beyond.  Then, with a little grunt of mixed pain and pleasure he thrust
back again to impale himself fully on my slick hardness.

   When it was done the boy was gasping a little, writhing as his lower
legs twitched in spasm and I held him tight until he accommodated himself
to the penetrating fullness.  Beneath my encircling arm, which I kept
around his waist, was a bulge in his lower belly where my tip was thrust up
inside him and when I ground a little with my hips, moving it, Orlando
moaned softly, stretching out his arms and writhing in ecstasy.

   With my free hand I stroked the glossy warmth of his hip and thigh, and
then took hold of his long rigid penis and started to rub firmly.  The
boy's slender shaft was so hard it was straining outward, throbbing with
his excited heartbeats and as my fingers slid up and down, from base to
tip, a sudden contraction in it made Orlando jerk and kick his legs.  I
pushed a fingertip into his belly button, pressing and wiggling, and the
boy thrashed again, jerking in quick little bucks as a few warm slippery
droplets rolled from the tip of his throbbing penis.  Orlando's slender
body arched, his curly head pulled back, and his lower legs kept jerking as
his breathing came in quick little gasps, "Uh...  Uh...  Uh...  Uh..."

   As the spasm passed there was an easing of the tension in his body and I
began to move in him, pumping my hips to let my slick rod glide in and out
through his anus.  The boy's ring now gaped open and I slid in him easily,
the movements radiating through his groin creating new pulsating throbs
until once again he was jerking and kicking.  I prolonged him with my
fingertip pushed deep into his belly button and the boy moaned in ecstasy,
heaving against my restraining arm.

   He went limp for a while, eyes closed and head lolling as I kept moving
within him, my hips pumping in slow steady rhythm, and then the throbbing
contractions came again, arching his slender body, sending him into new
jerking spasms.

   Over and over it repeated until the boy was staring in a blind trance of
passion, his anus gaping wide, all muscular tone lost.  With a warm gush
his bladder emptied, urine dribbling onto the absorbent pad and still I
kept pumping him until the boy was jerking almost continually, his slender
little body shuddering as he bucked.

   Within my own loins the pressure I had been holding back for so long now
ramps upward and I felt a sudden slippery warmth gush from my tip.  It was
impossible to keep from pumping faster and I thrust into the boy grinding
against his butt to push as far up as I could, sliding myself in him with
increasing urgency.

   Orlando responded by pushing back at each stroke, deepening my
penetration and we writhed together groaning and twisting.  I was squeezing
desperately to hold back, never wanting it to end, but the pressure in me
rose beyond anything I could do to restrain it.  On the point of release I
rammed into the boy, locking my groin to his smooth glossy butt, and
holding myself there with my arm clamped around his waist.  For a moment
there was nothing but the incredible sweetness of having the boy, all my
straining hardness sheathed in his arched body - and then in jerk after
jerk, contractions throbbing, I flooded his rectum with spurts of semen.

   After it ended I collapsed, panting, onto the bed and held Orlando until
my softening member slipped out of him.  Then I turned the boy, letting him
cuddle against me, curly head buried on my shoulder and his knee pulled up
over my hip.

   The boy's heart was fluttering in his chest and he wanted to be stroked,
squirming against me and hugging while my palm glided on his warm silky
body.

   "I did not know it could be like that," he whispered at last, speaking
to me in Spanish.

   "It should be like that always," I replied, kissing him tenderly.  "I am
very grateful you let me do this, Orlando.  I want you to know I like you
very, very much."

   His response to this was to hug me, rubbing his hand over the muscle of
my shoulder and arm.  Then he lifted his head and I saw the glitter of his
eyes in the dim light.  "Tomorrow, can we swim and then you do this again?"

   "Tomorrow, after the movie is finished, you may have whatever you want."


   My hand stroked down the boy's flank onto the glossy swell of his hip
and he shifted position, rubbing his still hard penis on my thigh.

   "The other boy...  Does he do this?"

   "Yes.  But it is no good with him.  He has done it with too many
others."

   "I do it only with you," Orlando assured me.  "No one else.  I swear
it!"

   "I believe you." Caressing the boy, I leaned down to give him another
kiss and Orlando rubbed himself against me while my palm cupped the warm
silky mounds of his butt.

   "I want you to rest now," I told him.  "Tomorrow you have the thing you
must do.  You must make a good scene and not kill the other boy too
quickly. But do not take chances.  He will be armed."

   Orlando shrugged and switched over to English.  "He a white boy, Homes.
White boys doan' know nothin'.  I do him slow."

   Giving a final caressing pat to his buttocks I disentangled myself from
his arms and got up.  "I will be waking you early to do your makeup," I
reminded him, taking up my shorts.  "Try to get a good rest.  Don't stay up
too late."

   The boy rolled onto his back and stretched his lovely body, arms thrown
behind his head and one knee half pulled up.  His eyes gleamed in the dim
light, and I saw the white of his teeth as he smiled and ran the tip of his
tongue around his lips.  "Stay here and sleep with me, Homes."

   "Tomorrow," I said and then went out the door, locking him in.

   By the weight bench I paused to step into my shorts, then I unlocked the
door to the small bedroom and went inside.  Jacob was still asleep but it
was a light doze and he woke with a start as I knelt by the bed.

   "Is it time?" He asked, staring.

   I reached to stroke his hair.  "No.  It's still the night before. 
You've been napping.  I'm taking you upstairs to bed."

   When I gathered the boy in my arms, Jacob wrapped his arms around my
neck and rested his head on my shoulder.  I carried him upstairs to my room
and once he was laid on the bed he lifted his hips so I could strip him of
his shorts.  Then I tucked him, naked, under the covers.

   "You should eat a little more, but I know you don't want anything heavy,
right?"

   He shook his head.  "Uh-Uh."

   "You stay here and rest.  I'll make you another little snack.  In the
morning you can have a breakfast drink.  That will be plenty."

   "Yeah."

   After giving him the TV remote I headed for the kitchen where I put
together a small sandwich of roast turkey with one slice of Swiss cheese
and a leaf of lettuce.  Jacob took this down with half a glass of orange
juice, nibbling in little bites.  Then I got into the bed with him and he
settled against me.

   "Joe?"

   "Yup."

   "Tell about the Trojans again."

   This was the favorite story that he never seemed to tire of, so I began
at the beginning.  "All the gods and goddesses got together for a party -
except nobody invited Discord, because who wants Discord at a party?  But
she was pissed at not being invited, so here's what she did..."

   When we got to parts about Achilles Jacob always wanted to know more,
because Achilles fascinated him.

   "I wish he didn't have to die."

   "All warriors die in the end," I told him, smiling sadly.  "Even if they
don't get killed on the battlefield, they get old - and that's death for a
warrior, too."

   "But why Achilles?  He was like the best of all!"

   "It was the choice he made, remember?  Zeus told him, either a long dull
life, or else die young and have eternal glory.  He chose glory."

   "So would I," Jacob said, nodding.

   "Yes, I know..." My arm was around him and when I gave the boy a quick
hug he rolled closer against me rubbing his stiff penis against my hip.  He
wanted me, and I wanted him, but with the fight looming in the morning I
did not want him distracted in any way.  If he won, there would be time
enough later.  And if he lost...

   "Tomorrow," I whispered, reaching down to stroke his jutting little
shaft.  "I want you to save everything for that..."

   Jacob nodded in understanding, but boy like he wanted everything at once
and kept pulling my hand back each time I took it away.  Eventually, more
of the Trojan War story distracted him, especially the character of Hector
whose flight from Achilles always made Jacob shake his head.

   "I don't like him, Joe.  He runs away!"

   "Fear is the toughest enemy of all," I said, stroking the boy's silky
flank.  "You saw what it did to that other kid you fought.  He was brave
all the way to the end and then broke.  That's sort of what happens to
Hector, except at the very, very last he turns back to fight.  That took a
real courage, Jacob.  To face fear and overcome it.  Hector did that.  He
was a hero."

   "But, he lost."

   "Not all winners win - not all losers lose.  Fate works in strange ways
sometimes.  A lot of people think Hector is the real hero of the Iliad."

   The boy thought about this, and then said, "I get scared."

   "Sure." My arm tightened around him.  "You could be killed in these
fights.  Of course you get scared."

   "Uh-Uh." He shook his head.  "That's like part, but..." The boy glanced
up at me, and then went on, "I get really scared that like I'll mess up an'
you won't be proud of me."

   Hugging the boy, I swallowed to remove the lump forming in my throat. 
"That could never happen.  I'm so proud of you all the time.  Everything
you do makes me proud.  You are the bravest, most wonderful kid in the
world.  Don't ever think I'm not proud of you!"

   Jacob wrapped his arms around me and hugged, trembling a little and I
stroked him for a while.  Finally he asked, "Joe, do you think the other
boy is scared?"

   "I don't know.  Maybe inside a little - I think so." Bending over I
kissed Jacob's hair and then went on.  "I can tell you this.  His handlers
aren't worried.  They're so sure he's going to beat you that they've
already signed him up for two more fights after this.  I would never do
that!  It's a jinx when you start playing too far ahead.  I think they're
way overconfident.

   Jacob cuddled closer to me and I caressed the boy tenderly.  "You just
get in there tomorrow and remember your training.  You're gonna' do just
fine.  The whole world will be watching when you take that kid out!  You'll
be my little champion!  Okay?"

   "Uh-huh."

   Jacob slept fitfully that night, waking several times and wanting to be
held.  I stroked his stiff penis for a while until he jerked, and then
after that he slept more soundly and did not wake for the rest of the
night.

   ------------------ End of Chapter Four ------------------