Class Reunion Ch. 01

Revised version copyright 2006 by the author.

Author's note: this is the fourth of the "Steelman Tales," but not, strictly speaking, a sequel to the previous three, though Jon Evans and Kevin Kuehlwasser play important roles in the story. It stands on its own without the others; those who have read the earlier tales may enjoy finding out a bit more about Kevin in particular. Best, KN

PROLOGUE

He had been wrong about what he would feel when he stepped back onto the campus of his alma mater. Steelman College was a place where Lucas Boatright had mostly been unhappy. He hadn't fully realized this until he had left the place well behind him, and his real life and career had begun.

At forty-one years of age, by most standards, Lucas was a success--not a man of extraordinary physical beauty, but fit and attractive; not fantastically rich, but comfortably off; not world-famous, but well-known in certain circles for his regular writing appearances in a national publication. Yet he had never shaken off the sense that there was unfinished business in his life.

He was returning to Steelman for his twenty-year class reunion to try and come to terms with events that had almost destroyed him. He had wondered about the wisdom of such a venture. Perhaps it was better to leave old wounds alone. On the other hand, he had a few years back weathered the loss of a beloved partner to the prolonged and painful illness that had taken so many of them, and that still cast its long shadow. Having survived that, the prospect of revisiting his college haunts, and the ghosts that inhabited them, no longer seemed so daunting. When the literature had begun arriving about Steelman's Homecoming celebrations, this time he had responded, and now here he was.

He had worried that returning would depress him, but to his surprise his spirits lifted as he walked on the academic mall on that sunny Friday afternoon in late October. The campus had changed in appearance. Many new buildings were up, bright and majestic, all white limestone, glass and steel. Lucas was especially impressed at the sight of the new Student Union building. The old Union, now torn down, had been the place where he had spent many hours as a reporter for the school paper, the Steelman Banner. The Banner. Lucas chuckled as the memories came back. How he had sweated blood in service to that rag, how seriously they all had taken their journalistic mission. He didn't suppose he would see Josephine Scott, his senior-year editor, this weekend, since she had not been a member of the same graduating class. He would love to know what she was doing now. As much as he had wanted to throttle her sometimes, she had, after all, unintentionally been responsible for bringing him and Will DuBarry together.

Then again, had he known how that was going to turn out, he might have done the evil deed then and there.

PART ONE

"What do you mean, I have to interview the swimmer?" Lucas complained. "I'm not the sports reporter around here. Where's Brant anyway?"

"Lucas," Josephine explained, with exaggerated patience. "You know as well as I do that Brant is about to flunk out. He has taken a leave of absence from the Banner until he can get his academic shit together. That leaves you as our best reporter, and best writer. Ergo, you interview Will DuBarry."

They were in the office of the Steelman College campus newspaper, a cramped, uncomfortable set of cubicles in a room just off the first-floor atrium of the Student Union building. Lucas sighed. Josephine—never Jo or Josie—could be, and frequently was, maddening--where did she get off using words like "ergo," anyway?--but he knew she was right. Their staff this year was pathetic, and there was no one else who could do the interview. Josephine had run for and been elected editor though she was only a sophomore--none of the upperclassmen vying for the chair last spring had been remotely qualified. Lucas had not run, though by virtue of his three continuous years on the staff he was virtually entitled to the editorship. He couldn't face the long hours, the deadlines, the responsibility, all of which she had shouldered. So it was poetic justice that he, senior reporter, now had to take orders from an underclassman.

"Anyway," Josephine was saying, "It really is a story, you know. Steelman has never been in the running for a Southern Athletic Conference title in swimming until this year. And it's all due to DuBarry transferring here last year and single-handedly re-energizing the team. Besides, Boatright," she added, her patronizing tone returning, "it'll do you good to have to interview a jock. You're such an intellectual snob, you think they all talk in monosyllables."

Lucas thought about giving her the finger, but stopped himself. He knew that Josephine was as hard on herself as she was on others. It was her one saving grace. She also had a disconcerting habit of halfway perceiving truths about him he would rather not have admitted. The thought of being face to face with Will DuBarry did make Lucas uneasy, though not because he was arrogant about his mental abilities. The truth was, he had no idea how he was going to remain coherent, let alone coolly objective, around someone whose physical being took his breath away.

Lucas had realized in high school that he was gay. He had heard of the shattering trauma such self-discovery could involve, the depression, the suicide attempts. His own moment of truth, in contrast, had been arrived at with a mental shrug. Already shunned and scorned for his "geekiness" and "weirdness," tagged with the dreaded label of "nerd," he remembered exactly what he had thought at the time: oh well, one more thing they'll hate me for.

At Steelman, there was no immediate danger of anyone discovering and condemning the social preferences of Lucas Boatright, since he had no social life. He filled his time with his studies, working at the Banner and, quietly and inconspicuously, working out. One good thing about going to college here was that physical education was a requirement, so the classes were filled with students as uncoordinated and awkward as he felt himself to be. He had always liked the water, though he had never been fast enough to qualify for any team. Swim conditioning and Lucas, therefore, were made for each other, and he happily put in his required miles per week, giving himself yet another reason not to talk to other people.

After three years of this diligent training, Lucas, though he did not know it, cut an attractive figure at the pool, goggles temporarily replacing his heavy, awkward eyeglasses, his slim, toned body clad only in a brief Speedo. His dark hair, luxuriant on his head and sparse on his chest, contrasted effectively with his very fair skin. He never thought of himself as anything but ugly, however, and was lost in admiration of those he considered far more attractive. For Lucas, the ultimate treat was a glimpse of the elite users of the natatorium--the Steelman men's swim team.

He had gone one morning to the pool at eight o'clock to swim laps. During the competitive season the team held early morning workouts, and would finish at that time. It must have been on a Tuesday or Thursday, since he didn't have classes on those days that semester. Lucas often slipped into the pool area a few minutes early to watch the last few minutes of practice, admiring the grace and speed of the swimmers, so different from his own dogged stroking. He was mesmerized by the broad-shouldered, slim-hipped, muscular male bodies that paraded before him in dizzying array. When they got wet, the dark blue Speedos the team members wore clung to their buttocks and emphasized the cracks of their asses. In front they left equally little to the imagination, revealing rather than concealing what was underneath. Lucas frequently had to wait a few moments after the signal had been given for lap swimmers to enter the pool, until his erection diminished enough that he could stand without embarrassment.

Although the pool had been cleared on this particular morning as Lucas entered, one swimmer continued to move up and down one of the center lanes, freestyling smoothly. Not knowing quite what was going on, Lucas claimed a lane next to the one occupied by the lone team member and sat with his legs in the pool. After a minute or two the straggler stopped swimming. His head emerged from the water and he propped himself at the edge on folded arms, breathing hard. After a minute, he pulled off his goggles, and Lucas found himself looking into a pair of brilliant blue eyes.

"Hey," the stranger said.

Lucas felt shyness envelop him. No one on an athletic team had ever taken any notice of him in his life. He forced himself to nod. The other boy now removed his latex cap. Blond hair emerged, clipped very short and darkened by the water. Lucas searched desperately for something else to say.

"Good workout?" he managed, groaning inwardly at the stupidity of the remark.

Amazingly, the swimmer smiled. "Yeah, not bad," he replied. He hoisted himself out of the water with long sinewy arms, turned and sat at the pool edge next to Luke, still breathing hard. Lucas couldn't believe his good fortune. Not only was he sitting next to a tall, handsome, and, he couldn't help noticing, nearly naked athlete, this Greek god inexplicably seemed to think it was worth his while to converse with him.

The stranger sat a few moments longer, then he stood up. "Well, better hit the shower. Have a good swim, buddy."

Lucas raised a hand wordlessly, then stared unabashedly at the V-shape of the swimmer's retreating form, the long graceful legs, the glutes working in the tight trunks. He suddenly realized that lap swimmers were splashing in every lane except the one he was claiming, and pushed down his goggles and slipped into the water. He felt it begin to cool his burning cheeks and shrink the uncomfortable fullness in his swimsuit.

That was his first meeting with Will DuBarry, whose name he didn't find out until later. Lucas replayed the encounter in his mind repeatedly for days afterward. The swimmer belonged to one of the Steelman fraternities and wasn't enrolled in any of his classes, so Lucas had to content himself with occasional glimpses, either at the pool, or at a distance on campus. It had been sheer luck that he taken a few extra laps that day. Lucas hoped they would meet in that fashion again, but the fates were against him. Either he would get to the pool a little late and the team would either be already gone, or, if he arrived early, the swimmer he sought would finish on time, and leave among a crowd of his teammates, talking loudly and horsing around.

One day near the end of the semester Lucas went to the pool for an afternoon swim. When he entered the men's locker room, he heard the shower going. He stripped and pulled on his trunks, got his goggles and banged his locker shut, and headed toward the lavatory to take a leak before getting in. The shower stalls adjoined the washroom area, and as he stood at the urinal the sound of rushing water stopped. Lucas couldn't help turning slightly to see who emerged.

His heart leaped as he saw that it was the swimmer he had met, holding a towel and a bottle of shampoo, gloriously naked. Lucas' eyes swiftly took in the chiseled pectoral muscles and the perfectly formed ridges on the swimmer's stomach. Lower down he caught a glimpse of dark blond pubes, round tight balls, and a long ropy cock that dangled entrancingly between his legs. He was rubbing his short hair dry. As he wiped his ears he looked up and saw Lucas. "Hey, it's my swimmer bud," he said, smiling. "What's up, guy?"

Lucas hastily stuffed himself back in, though he hadn't started peeing. He was blushing furiously at having been caught checking another man's body out, but the object of his lust appeared not to notice. His friendliness was unforced, relaxed.

"I see you around here all the time, don't I? Why aren't you on the team?"

Despite himself, Lucas smiled at the thought. "Have you ever seen me swim? You'd know why I'm not on the team."

"Well, I think it's great that you work out. By the way, I'm Will DuBarry." He stuck out his hand. Lucas shook it, feeling giddy as he allowed himself to look into the blue eyes, clear as the waters of the pool. He said his name.

Will raised his eyebrows. "Lucas, what a cool name."

"Cool?" Lucas hadn't ever thought of his name that way.

"It's just that you don't run into many Lucases these days. Do they call you something for short? Luke, maybe?" Lucas shook his head.

Will tapped his arm, as if that decided it. "Well, that's what I'm going to call you. Got to get to dinner. See you later, Luke my man." He picked up his shampoo, slung the towel over his shoulder and walked toward his locker, whistling.

Lucas slipped into one of the lavatory stalls. He loosened the drawstring of his Speedos, pulled out his own already half-hard cock, and began to stroke it. He thought of Will, standing naked, only a few feet away, toweling the water off of his body.

Lucas sat on the toilet and began to jack off in earnest, pushing his trunks below his knees. He closed his eyes and imagined himself standing in front of that perfect form, running his hand over Will's chest. He imagined leaning forward, touching his tongue to a firm pink nipple, catching the faint sharp scent of chlorine on the smooth skin. In his fantasy he saw himself kneeling, his mouth opening wider...

A muffled groan escaped his throat as the orgasm shook his body. His cock came to life in his hand and he heard soft splashes as it dropped his load into the bowl. It was long moments before Lucas was able to open his eyes. Looking down between his trembling legs, he saw the white plumes and drops of his cum floating in the water below, lit by the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights.

He started with fright as someone knocked loudly on the stall door. "Luke?" boomed Will's voice.

"Jesus!" Lucas cried.

"Hey man, didn't mean to scare you, but I thought I heard something. You're not sick or anything, are you?" Will asked, concerned.

After a moment, Lucas managed to reply. "Thanks, but I'm okay, really." He stood hurriedly, readjusted his trunks and grabbed his goggles. His heart was still pounding, both from his recent climax and now the shock of near-discovery. He flushed the toilet, and the roar of the water helped him regain his composure. Finally, he pushed the stall door open. Will stood outside, now dressed, looking at him quizzically.

"You sure now?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Lucas answered brusquely, brushing past him. "I'll see you later." He was still shaking as he walked toward the entrance to the pool. As soon as he got through the door, he collapsed against the wall and laughed. It had been a close call.

He didn't talk to Will for a long while after that. Final exams were soon upon them, followed by the Christmas break. When they returned from the holidays, Lucas found that looking at the swim team had lost its charms—he was only interested in seeing one team member. Just catching a glimpse of Will at a distance on campus, striding with his long legs to class or to practice, was enough to make Lucas' face flush, his palms sweat, his heart race. Aghast at the effect the swimmer was having on him, Lucas started going to the pool at different times, to be sure not to see him--then fell into a deep depression, longing for the sight of the amiable athlete in his Speedos. Since he had never allowed himself to get emotionally close to a fellow human being, Lucas did not realize that, at age twenty-one, he was in the throes of his first serious crush. The summer after his junior year, working back in his small Texas hometown, was bleak and cheerless. First semester senior year was worse. He began to think about graduation with mixed anticipation and dread. He would be gone from this place and could put all of this inner turmoil behind him--but he might never see Will again.

So, early that January, when his irritating editor at the Steelman Banner threw him the assignment that would have gone to the absent sports reporter, Lucas' blustering reluctance was at once genuine and completely false. A part of him sang with joy at the thought that he at last had a reason to get close to, to hold a deep conversation with the object of his fevered affections. Another, equally insistent part warned that he was getting in over his head. He raced home from the meeting with Josephine and immediately looked up Will's number in the Steelman directory. It was two days before he worked up the courage to pick up the phone and dial it.

A strange male voice answered, barking, "Sigma." Lucas said nothing, puzzled. The voice repeated, irritably, "Sigma House." Lucas realized he had reached a fraternity house, probably a hall phone. He identified himself and asked for Will.

"I'll check and see if he's around," the voice said. The receiver was laid down with a clatter and he heard the unknown frat member shouting in the distance, "Hey! DuBarry! Phone!"

There was silence for long moments, and Lucas started to lose his nerve. He was debating whether or not to hang up when suddenly Will's voice sounded in his ear. "Hello?"

Lucas took a deep breath. "This is Lucas Boatright."

"Who?"

He tried again. "Lucas. From the pool. Luke."

"Oh yeah, how are you doing?" Will responded, his voice warming. "What's up, buddy?"

Haltingly, Lucas explained the reason for his call. There was a silence, then Will said, "So--you want to invade my privacy, eh, Luke? Didn't know you were one of those tabloid types."

Lucas, mortified, began a weak protest when the other boy laughed. "Just giving you a hard time, guy. Sure we can talk. When do you want to do it?"

Late the next afternoon Will and Lucas sat at a table in the almost deserted snack bar of the Student Union. Lucas had bought cups of coffee for Will and himself. On the table were also a small recorder and a sheet of paper, on which Lucas had printed out his questions.

His subject answered the standard questions good-naturedly. How had he gotten started in swimming? Who were his role models? How did he feel when he set a national high school record? As the interview progressed Lucas began to relax. He found himself genuinely curious about Will, who by rights should have been on scholarship in some major swimming program, UCLA or UT, but who had in fact left the latter school after two years. He decided to take a chance and depart from his prepared questions.

"Will, why did you transfer to Steelman?" he asked. "You were doing great on the team at UT--people couldn't understand it when you left."

There was a silence, the first time Will had not immediately responded to one of his questions. Lucas looked up and saw that his subject's smile had taken on a distinct edge. "You had to ask that, didn't you, Luke?" he said.

Lucas persisted, though he was puzzled at Will's reaction. "Well, the fact is Steelman is incredibly lucky to have an athlete like you--not to be sarcastic or anything, but some of us are wondering what we did to deserve the honor."

Will reached out and pressed the "stop" button on Lucas' recorder. Lucas, thinking that he was about to break off the interview, began to speak rapidly. "Will, I'm sorry if I offended you with the question. I'll withdraw it, but please, I'd like to go on--"

Will held up a hand and shook his head. "Luke, I'm not mad, and I'm not leaving. You're a nice guy and I like you. It's just that I'd like certain things to be off the record, ok?"

Lucas nodded, mystified but also thrilled. The object of his worshipful fantasies had paid him a compliment, and what was more, was about to confide some secret. The interview was progressing beyond his wildest dreams.