Lucian Ch. 01

One was Parker, the principal; the other Vivian Kurtz. Of course they both smiled.

Parker rose.

"Hello Lucian," she said in her crispy voice, looking at him from inside her big round glasses. "How are you, darling? Settling in nicely?"

Both women stood now.

Lucian saw there were three plates on the table, not four. Parker gestured him to the third plate, on the opposite side. He waited behind the chair, looking where Drew was.

She still stood where he'd left her.

"Thank you, Drew, for taking care of our Lucian," Parker said. "You may leave now."

The girl hesitated; she obviously didn't know she wasn't invited. Doing a small curtsey, she turned and left.

Lucian wondered if she would have dinner at all tonight.

He suddenly felt alone.

They sat down, and Parker sounded a small bell. A girl came in, wearing a floor-long apron. He thought he'd seen her before; she was maybe one of the Asian girls he met in the corridors.

She did the same kind of curtsey Drew had, and asked what the ladies wanted to drink. The top of her apron opened a bit and he wondered if she wore anything under it

"Ah, Nico," Parker said, "I guess Dr. Kurtz and I will go for the Chablis, and sweet Lucian here will have water of course. Did you already meet?"

The girl blushed.

"Yes, Ms. Parker," she said. "We met in passing. Hello Lucian, I'm Nico." And she curtsied again, graciously.

As she turned away to get their drinks, he saw she wore similar shorts as his. Hers were baby blue and moved with her ass cheeks.

While she was leaving, Dr. Kurtz asked him if he felt chilly. It was a strange question, as the evening was mild and he had his shirt buttoned up to his chin.

He denied feeling cold.

"Well, honey," she said, smiling. "You seem a bit over dressed for a fine balmy evening, so I thought..."

The 'darlings' and 'honeys' started to wear him down. So did the constant urging to strip.

"I'm fine, thank you," he said, feeling hot flashes rise under his collar.

He took the carafe of water that was on the table and filled his glass. Then he took a series of impressive gulps, ignoring the chuckling women.

He put down the glass and said:

"Why did you want to see me anyway?"

It successfully brought their giggling to a halt. He felt a hand on his wrist; it was the principal's.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I guess we should be more sensitive. These must be hard days for you."

The girl returned with a bottle and two glasses. She poured the wine and set the bottle in a cooler.

"I'll be right back with the entrees," she said, curtseying again.

She had strong, toned legs; tanned too.

"Hard days or not," Ms. Parker resumed after the girl had left, "there are things we have to talk about. And you, no doubt, have questions too." She picked up her glass, saluted Dr. Kurtz and took a sip.

"I don't want to be here," he mumbled. The principal set down her glass, and said:

"Oh, but you do." Confused, he looked at her. She smiled, of course.

"But I just said..." he started. She interrupted him at once.

"I know what you said. But that is not what you want."

This was a weird conversation, he thought. He looked from the headmistress to the doctor and back. It was Dr. Kurtz who went on, laying her hand on his.

"If not here, honey, where would you be?" she asked.

He took away his hand. It didn't stop her.

"Would you really go back to your old school? I guess not; nor to any other so-called normal school. You can't even go back home."

Lucian jerked his head up from staring at his plate. The woman nodded.

"Why can't I go home?" he asked.

The hand returned.

"Because your mother will send you back at once. She signed you into this school because she is convinced this is where you must be; and we agree with her."

Of course they agree, he thought. She's paying.

He looked at Ms. Parker who was sipping her wine. At that moment the Asian girl returned with their salads. She said there was bulgur in it, with roasted eggplant, peppers and salty lemon. Then she curtseyed yet again and wished them "bon appétit."

He'd never eaten bulgur before, or even heard of it - nor had he tasted roasted eggplant or salty lemon. He tried a bite; it was good.

Of course it was good: he was hungry.

"Why does my mother think this school is my best choice?" he asked, after swallowing his third bite. Parker smiled.

He started fearing that smile.

"Because she knows," she said, "that this is the only place where someone like you is appreciated - your interests and your talents."

Now he laughed.

"She told you I have talents?"

The doctor's fingers squeezed his hand.

"My God," she said. "They really destroyed you, didn't they?"

"I'm fine," he muttered, embarrassed by what she said.

"No, you're not," she replied, her smile gone now. "You are a beautiful young person. You are smart and sensitive, and just because most schools ignore your talents, that doesn't mean they don't exist."

Oh God, he thought, so it's that kind of school: pimping up a fantasy-curriculum for parents with too much money who want to buy a degree - whatever degree - so they can finally boast about some success of their disappointing offspring at their get-togethers.

He just stared at the doctor; then returned to his plate. At least the food was good, whatever it was.

Ms. Parker pushed away her plate, half-empty. There was no smile on her face - and quite a bit of steel in her voice.

"I bet you see yourself as the fashionable little cynic, Lucian, don't you? Maybe you would even call yourself realistic and me naïve." She caught his eyes. "Yes," she went on, "I thought so. But you should know that you are all wrong. It only shows how damaged you are. As an 18 year old you should be the naïve one - we the cynics. You should believe that the world is there for you to grasp - that anything is possible."

Lucian shrugged, looking away. Sermons like these always embarrassed him.

"Don't look away, Lucian," the woman said, her voice warmer now. "I know this makes you feel awkward, because you'd feel awkward saying it about yourself. Well..." she lifted her glass, "I guarantee that you will be saying it all, long before you leave this school - and believe it.

I drink to that."

Dr. Kurtz picked up her glass and nodded that he should too. He looked at the half-empty glass.

"It's half full, Lucian," the woman said, softly.

He couldn't help smiling. Raising the glass, he touched Parker's with it, and the doctor's.

"To your future, Lucian Gaines," the principal said.

They drank. He swallowed, feeling the water struggle past the angry lump in his throat.

***

Lying in bed, later that night, Lucian tried to process what he'd heard over dinner.

Were the two women really as driven as they let on? Or was it just another P.R. story, meant to make them feel good about their precious rich man's institute? And if so, why would a doctor be as involved as Vivian Kurtz was?

The food was good, although it had been served in very small portions. In the main course he'd found slivers of white chicken meat. There had not been sugar, nor cream in the skimmed-dairy dessert.

And he'd been the only one having pills on the side.

Of course he'd asked Dr. Kurtz about them. She gave the same response as Drew - antibiotics, vitamins and supplements.

She could be lying, of course. But wasn't she a doctor?

He asked Parker about the schedules with their puzzling abbreviations, and the lack of textbooks on math and science. She hadn't really answered; she just told him everything would be explained when he started taking classes.

"When will that be?" he asked.

"Soon. Tomorrow the boys will show you around."

"Boys?"

"Your classmates. There are eight of them. They'll pick you up at seven and take you to breakfast."

Small classes, he mused. His parents must be paying a lot for this.

It was his last thought before waking up at 6:30.

***

Stepping into the shower, he took off the codpiece.

The swelling was gone, he saw, and so was the dull throbbing. His cock had regained its usual paleness; the exposed head was a shade pinker. The thin line of the cut seemed almost natural. Passing water didn't hurt. He felt his testicles; they were there, snuggly packed inside their sac.

Its skin seemed to feel smoother, and tighter.

'The boys' were like a crushing springtide when they hit his door, beating on it with their fists.

Lucian yelled for patience, pulling up the codpiece with its fresh lining. The baby-blue shorts he found in his drawer closed snugly over it. Then he grabbed the white robe and walked to the door.

There were supposed to be eight of them, but it felt like twenty - a pastel-colored ball of energy that suddenly froze when he opened his door. After a startled second they resumed pushing and jostling, but not to get in. It seemed they were mostly trying to hide behind each other, which, of course, left one boy to be in front.

He looked fourteen, maybe fifteen, but who was he to estimate correctly?

The boy was exotically beautiful with dark eyes under thick, long bangs of blue-black hair. The olive skin of his face looked flushed with excitement. He was skinny, of course, but his bare arms and legs were tan and toned. His maize-colored top left his waist bare, right down to cognac-colored short-shorts. There was no shirt.

"Morning," Lucian said, pulling the robe around him. "I'm Lucian."

He offered a hand, but it was ignored.

"Hello," the boy said, smiling broadly. "I'm Harper, and these are your classmates." He stepped aside to present the boys behind him.

There was muted giggling, until a redheaded boy cried out: "I'm Kelly; and he is Madison. He is Jo," he said, pointing at a butterscotch boy, "and he is Mu, mooh-mooh!" It must have been an old joke, but it set off more giggling and pushing.

The Chinese boy didn't seem to mind.

"I'm Cassidy!" someone cried from the back, a blond boy taller than the rest. "Taylor here!" Then the group separated, leaving a path towards the sweetest girl he'd ever seen.

Her huge violet eyes were set in a frame of bushy lashes. Flaxen blond she was, and her body must have been sculpted from Meissen porcelain.

She was a doll and she blushed like the setting sun.

Lucian smiled at her. It made her turn away, hiding behind one of the boys.

"He is Charlie," the boy Harper said. "He's a bit shy."

Lucian saw one of the boys hug the girl - the boy?

***

It was like being moved instead of moving, when they took Lucian to the breakfast room.

The heads of the ever-swirling group circled around him like a flock of birds. He now saw they all had bob-style hair - it was cut and styled similar: shorn at the back to leave their slim necks free, thick long bangs to almost cover their eyes, and swashes down their cheeks.

Some had straight and slick hair, like Harper and the Asian boy called Mu. Jo's were kinky, and the angelic girl-boy Charlie carried his bob like a fluffy cloud of spun silver.

As they walked, Harper explained about the building, pointing out where the classrooms were, mixed with anecdotes of teachers he still had to meet.

The boys threw in details to add color. Not all of them had their own room, like he did. Five shared a kind of dorm - Harper and the redhead among them.

Most of them had been around for at least half a year or longer.

The breakfast room was small and obviously just meant for them. They sat around a big table, sipping glasses of fruit juice and spooning granola and yoghurt.

Girls like the pretty Chinese from yesterday served the food, wearing long aprons over tiny shorts. They scolded the boys in a friendly way.

"They're Barbs," Harper said. "Barbies." He wiggled his limp wrist, closing his eyes as he kissed the air.

"Who are?" he asked.

"The girls serving. We are Bobs."

"You are?" he asked. "What about me?"

His question caused silence. Harper pulled up his bony shoulders, spreading his fingers.

"You're a Bob too, of course," he said. "Juniors like us. Don't you know?"

"I guess I know nothing," Lucian said. He picked up the small bowl filled with colorful pills. "For example," he said, "what are these?"

"M&M's!" the redhead yelled. Giggles came from all around the table.

Lucian saw the boys pick up their pills and flush them down with water.

"You can take them," Harper said. "We all do."

Finishing his juice, he rose.

"Come," he said. "Let's show you the place."

***

The school was bigger than Lucian imagined.

Behind the ancient main building was a modern extension with straight and simple lines and a lot of glass. An open corridor connected both buildings. Upon arrival they were welcomed by piano music, loud stomping noises and voices.

"Ballet classes," Harper said. "Let's have a look."

One side of the huge hall was completely mirrored with a long bar in front of it. The other side gave out on the park and had ceiling-to-floor windows. They let in a sea of daylight.

On a vast wooden floor girls were practicing.

They wore tights hugging their long, toned legs, and woolen calf-warmers. Their bodies bent with easy grace, doing impressive things to their spines. A woman in black played a piano while yelling instructions in a clear, high voice.

"Aren't they great?" Harper asked. "I'm so jealous."

Lucian looked from the boy's radiant face to a girl standing on tiptoes, folding her leg upwards until her heel rested on her head.

Jealous?

"Come!" the red headed boy cried out, pulling on his arm.

Running and jumping, pushing and pulling all the way, they reached tall doors that opened to what obviously was a gymnastics hall.

Smelling the usual cocktail of rubber, leather and old sweat, Lucian's memories turned dark. Places like this were temples of humiliation and ridicule, where jocks were the high priests and the likes of him the adoring altar boys. It was where the big guys with the butchers' faces flexed their muscles and almost accidentally showed off their fat, long penises. It was where they laughed hard at the spindle-armed wannabes trying to hang on to rings or climbing ropes but never reaching the elusive ceiling.

It was hell.

As his eyes roamed the space with dismay, the boys sprinted past him to the torture devices that were all over the place.

The brown boy called Jo took a few high-legged strides, then jumped and did an easy somersault on a vaulting-buck, landing soundlessly on his feet. Others were on the trampoline, jumping till they touched the ceiling; vaulting and flying. The tiny porcelain girly boy Charlie ran to a balance beam, jumping onto it like a feather, and starting a series of elegant high-steps, turns, rolls and flips, ending with a somersault and a slow, total split, crying out with pleasure.

Lucian saw two boys doing high jumps, clearing a bar level to their heads. Harper danced in front of him, whooping and waving his arms like a bird. Then he turned, running to a vast mat, starting a series of jumps, flips and a double, screw-like thing before ending perfectly on his feet.

"You do gymnastics?" he asked Lucian, hardly panting. Lucian shrugged.

"Are you training for the circus?" he asked in response.

The boys laughed out loud, ignoring the sarcasm.

"You'll be doing this next year," Harper said. "Easy."

They left the gym and ran down a corridor.

After a few steps Lucian stopped to stare at a row of framed photographs on the wall. They were professional fashion photos and covers of well-known magazines - Vogue he saw, and Harper's Bazaar. He'd seen quite a number of them; his mother's room had always been strewn with fashion magazines.

"But that is Bobbi Sheering," he said, pointing. "And isn't that Campbell Laurie?"

He recalled his mother's amusement when she found him leafing through her glossies. "Don't you have Playboys to jerk off to?" she'd asked, following up with her throaty laugh.

"What are they doing here?" he asked, walking slowly to take them all in. The models were wonderfully dressed - some outrageous, some half naked.

"Wow, Andrea Pecci," he said, stopping to study a wraithlike, pale blonde in a wispy silk outfit, leaning on a stuffed tiger.

"They graduated here, don't you know?" Harper asked. "Except for Andrea, who's still here, once in a while."

Lucian stared at the pictures, his head spinning.

"You mean they were students here?" he asked. Harper studied his face.

"You have no idea what school this is, do you?" he said. Then he turned and walked on, leaving Lucian wondering about his remark - staring from the boy to the photographs and back.

"Come on," Harper urged. "Coach is waiting; can't be late."

The sun felt good on his skin; so did the soft breeze. Summer still lingered.

Conflicting feelings washed over him as he inhaled the scent of freshly cut grass - sweet air mixed with awful memories.

Harper took him down a path that split the vast lawn in front of the main building. The rest of the boys stayed back; they had classes.

There were clumps of trees and shrubbery. He also saw small groups of girls walking around or sitting on the grass.

Some of them waved.

Coach was a giantess - a huge Nordic blonde wrapped in athletic spandex.

She stepped out of the darkness of a small building - a shack, really - her body lighting up as the sunlight caught her. She was tall, way over six feet, her frame stacked with muscles.

"Is this him, Harp?" she asked, extending a hand.

"Sure, Coach," Harper said. "He's Lucian."

The hand was big and dry and warm. Her voice boomed. Lucian felt intimidated.

He hated coaches with the same fearful disgust as gyms and physical education in general. The woman took his bony shoulders in both hands, looking him up and down until he started sweating.

"I bet you hate sports," she said, feeling his biceps - or the lack of them. She didn't laugh; she not even smiled.

Lucian shrugged. Her face softened.

"Most boys here do," she said.

Lucian recalled what he saw in the gym. The coach stepped back, letting go of him.

"That is," she said, grinning at Harper, "they do when they arrive."

The boy laughed, pumping his fist.

"Please tell me, Lucian," she went on. "I guess you hate the ropes and the rings and doing push-ups - and football, of course. But there must be something you're good at - maybe gymnastics, like Harp here, or dancing? There always is something, you know... do you run?"

Did he run? He always ran, he guessed - away from things mostly. But really running?

"You seem to have a runner's body," the tall woman said. "Let me see. Strip." She folded her arms under her tightly packed bosom, stepping back.

Lucian looked from her to Harper. Undress - here? Did it ever stop?

"You're shy; of course you are," Coach said. "They all are at first, remember, Harp? No need for that, honey. Please show us."

The soft breeze cooled his exposed skin after he took off the top and shorts.

"You still need that?" Coach asked, pointing at the codpiece. "How long has it been on?"

Lucian shrugged.

"Two days, about," he said.

"Take it off and let me see."

Stripping in public was one thing, but stripping naked?

The woman seemed to loose her patience.

"Come on, boy," she said, reaching out and grabbing a strap of the piece, pulling it down. "I bet you think you're the only one with a cock?"

Standing naked, Lucian automatically hugged himself, looking away from the woman's stare. He felt her fingers touch his penis, lifting it up. In the distance a group of girls jogged across the lawn, their ponytails bobbing.