Pickup

"Diverting his attention is not the solution, Keith, because the problem is not his need for a target: The problem is that he's fundamentally violent, and the only solution is for your mother to leave him. So stay if you must, but you know you can't be here every minute."

Keith stood thinking for a long time before deciding to go with me.

I got the required signatures and records while Keith brought down the things he would be taking with him. When we had loaded it all into my SUV, he went back inside and said goodbye, promising his tearful mother that he would visit her every day.

=====

My business has not made me wealthy, but you could say I'm prosperous: My income supports a large house, a number of high-end vehicles and other luxuries, while still leaving a sizeable discretionary reserve. Supporting Keith would not be a problem.

After introducing him to my live-in housekeeper, Naomi, I gave him a tour of the house including the rooms I use as my office. Then I took him to my three-car garage about a hundred feet from the house. It has an upper floor consisting of one large room, empty at the time. "This will be your studio and bedroom. You'll be comfortable year-round, I had a climate-control system installed when I was considering the purchase of a classic car. I ordered furniture and bedding for you this morning. It will be delivered today. I'll have a skylight put in to give you plenty of natural illumination, and you'll have a reading lamp for nighttime study. Naomi can bring your breakfast and lunch if you want to eat them here, but I'd like you to join me every evening for dinner."

"Why would I be studying at night?"

"Don't your teachers assign homework?"

"Going back to school wasn't part of our agreement."

"That's true, it wasn't. But I'm now your legal guardian, which requires me to establish rules that will serve your best interests. The first two rules are that you stay in school and that you go to bed at a reasonable hour on school nights."

Keith frowned. He had assumed that with me he would have free rein. Glumly, he asked: "Can I watch television?"

"Yes. I'll get you a flat-screen TV and have a cable line run out here."

"And I can watch anything I want?"

"Anything at all, including the X-rated channels. Unless you don't put enough effort into your schoolwork and I activate the cable service's parental controls."

"How high do my grades have to be?"

"All I ask is that you do your best. If I see that, you'll have access to any content you ... desire."

He laughed, having caught the implication in the word 'desire'.

=====

Keith proved to be an engaging dinner companion, always brining news about the high school that he thought might interest me. He would also tell me about articles he had read in the newspaper or programs he had seen on TV, and would ask for my opinion. I made every request a path to discussion.

Our discussions covered a wide variety of people, yet I never heard from him a single word of judgment about anyone. He was a sweet kid, I was glad I had brought him to live with me.

Chapter Two

I took my custodial role very seriously, making sure that Keith did his homework and enforcing his bedtime by means of a switch I had an electrician install at the house to control the lights in his studio. I even attended Parents' Nights at the school. He sometimes objected to one or another rule, but I think he appreciated the fact that in his new safe environment he was thriving: He was more confident, more open with people; he was gaining a circle of friends. And no longer fatigued by lack of sleep, he could pay attention in class. His grades rose dramatically.

I rarely went to the studio, I wanted to give him the freedom to work without any perceived pressure from me. So it had been almost a month since my previous visit, when I entered on an unseasonably cold April afternoon and found it no warmer in that room than it was outside. Keith was hard at work on a painting, dressed in a light jacket. He was quivering the brush, creating a diffuse effect.

"What's going on?" I asked. "Why are you keeping this room like a meat locker?"

"The heat stopped working a few days ago" he said, his attention fixed on the canvas.

"You've had no heat for days? And you didn't say anything?"

He lifted his brush from the painting and turned to me. "It wasn't this cold until today, I didn't want to bother you."

"That wouldn't be bothering me! I need you to let me know right away when something needs attention! Aren't you cold, where's your winter coat?"

"I left some of my clothes at my parents' house. I didn't know if there would be enough space here for all of it."

A drop of paint fell from the brush as his hand continued to quiver. The diffuse effect had not been intentional: He was shivering.

"So" I said, "to avoid bothering me you've been sitting in this arctic room, freezing―"

I wanted to say 'freezing your cute little tushy off', but more judiciously I said: "freezing half to death."

I took off my coat and held it out to him. "Put this on."

"No, you'll be cold."

I scanned the room. "I can't have you living here."

I turned back to Keith, and saw that my statement had terrified him. "Oh Keith I didn't mean you can't stay with me, I meant that this room isn't fit to live in. I'm moving you into the house. I'll convert one of the guest rooms to a studio and one of the others will be your bedroom. My god, you thought I was throwing you out!"

"Well that's what it sounded like."

"Yes it did, I spoke carelessly. So I'm going to say this in a way that can't be misinterpreted: You're welcome in my home as long as you want to stay."

Keith sat still for a moment. Then he leaped from his chair, grabbed me and gave me a big, wet, sloppy kiss on the cheek.

My startled look sent him stepping back. "Oh I'm sorry! I was just so happy to hear you say that!"

"It's ok" I assured him. "It was nice."

The truth was that his childish kiss had thrilled me. I was even more attracted to Keith than I had thought.

I went to the door. "Let's go, you need to be someplace warm."

When he got close, I thrust my coat at him. "And wear this!"

=====

Dinner was not far off. The stove and the oven would be going full blast, making the kitchen the warmest place in the house. I took Keith there and left him under Naomi's watchful eye while I went to get the thickest blanket I could find.

I returned with a heavy quilt and wrapped him up.

As he sat swathed like an Indian elder, his shivering continued. I sat down at his side. "We need to get this into better contact" I said, putting my arms tightly around him.

He closed his eyes and sighed. I believe it was a sigh of pleasure: he was smiling.

I wished I could join him under the quilt and warm his body with my own. Was it only lust, or was I falling in love with him?

Gradually his shivering subsided, and then it stopped.

I was not quick to let go.

=====

That night I dreamed that I had joined him under the quilt. We were standing naked, with our arms around each other. I felt his body warming as I held him against me and ran my hands down his smooth back.

When they moved onto the behind I had seen in his pants, I came.

I woke to the sight of my nocturnal erection dribbling the last of its cum, adding a small puddle to the larger ones that were starting to cool on my chest and belly.

It had been years since I last came in my sleep.

=====

Keith's Junior year ended on a high note, with grades that earned him a place on the school's Academic Honor Roll. I told him that if his grades remained high next year I would subsidize his college tuition. He said that he was studying hard for my sake but he did not intend to go to college. He planned on devoting his life to painting.

The summer was an idyllic time for Keith: It gave him a respite from his schoolwork and it allowed him to be at his easel from morning to night. He began his senior year in September making no secret of the fact that he was counting the days to graduation, when he would be free permanently to paint full time.

=====

On November 23^rd, Keith was standing at the window observing the season's first snowfall when I entered his studio and said: "Naomi tells me that you frequently ask to use the telephone."

He turned to me. It was clear from the expression on his face that my comment had frightened him. "I don't ask unless it's something important. And I never stay on long."

"I know" I said, smiling as I handed him the gift-wrapped box I had been hiding behind my back. "Now you won't need to ask. Happy birthday."

Almost unbelievingly, he began to unwrap the box, having expected a rebuke not a gift. When he saw the smartphone the box contained, I was grabbed for the second time and given a kiss on the cheek - but not the hurried, clumsy smooch he had planted on me in the garage studio: This one was gentle, and it lasted long enough to give me the full sensation of his soft lips. It made my temperature rise.

Along with something else.

He looked at the new phone in awe. "I've never had even a simple flip-phone."

With my hand in front of my crotch to conceal what was growing there, I said: "I've put my number on Speed Dial but don't call me unless it's urgent; my day is usually taken up with business meetings. Other than that, make unrestricted use of the phone."

I waited for him to ask for instruction on the device's features, but he stood mute.

"Do you have any questions?" I prompted.

"Um ... yes. I was wondering why you're not having sex with me."

I was stunned. "Why would you think ... oh, because of what I said to your father about making you my boy toy? You know that was a lie to trap him! I would never require sex from you as a condition for living here, even if I were despicable enough to molest underage boys."

"I'm not underage, I'm nineteen. And it wouldn't be molesting if it's what I want."

This ravishing boy was offering himself to me!

It was an offer I couldn't accept.

Getting no response, he reminded me that the day we met I had said I would like to do a lot more with him than talk. "Did you change your mind?"

"No" I answered. "But I consider anyone younger than twenty to be underage."

=====

The following morning, I was awakened by a hand caressing my face.

Keith was bending over me. "Hello sleepyhead."

My attempt at a reply was stifled by a passionate kiss on the mouth.

He smiled at my astonished expression. "You refuse to have sex with me until I'm twenty, but this isn't sex." And he kissed me again.

I always slept naked, there was nothing between me and the blanket. Maybe this wasn't sex, but I was sure that if he kissed me one more time I would shoot into that blanket. "Keith, I can't― "

"I know, you can't kiss me back. It's ok. Just let me−" and he joined our mouths a third time.

And I did shoot into the blanket.

Chapter Three

My business keeps me constantly on the go. That doesn't faze me, I love the work. But I resolved from the beginning not to let it occupy my life entirely: Not only do I reserve the weekends for leisure, I strive on weekdays always to be home by 6 o'clock for dinner. And now that I would have Keith at the table with me, it became an unbreakable rule.

So I was distressed when I arrived home one day in March and he was not there. He visited his mother daily but I could rely on his ending the visit early enough to be at my home before 6. Not once had he ever been late.

I called his cell phone to ask what was keeping him. It went to voice mail. I called his parents' house. No one picked up.

Now I was concerned. I went to the house. It's within walking distance but to get there as fast as possible I drove.

Repeated knocking failed to bring anyone to the door. My concern became alarm. I moved to a living room window and tried to see inside.

A neighbor who was taking out her trash demanded to know what I was doing.

"I'm Keith's guardian" I told her. "He lives with me. He didn't show up for dinner today and I can't find him."

She said that Keith and his parents had been taken away an hour earlier in police cars.

Luckily there were no traffic control officers on my route to the police station. I got there in what was probably record time.

I identified myself to the Desk Sergeant, who told me that Keith, his mother, and his father were all in separate interview rooms giving their versions of a domestic incident.

I paced the reception area until Keith came out. He had a black eye, a puffy cheek and a bloody lip, and he was moving gingerly, but he claimed that he wasn't badly hurt.

His mother emerged moments later. Her only visible injury was a facial bruise. She said there were no other injuries and that she needed nothing more than a ride back to her house. I told her I would be glad to drop her off on my way home after I deal with some forms I would have to fill out as Keith's guardian. "It shouldn't take long."

Then I walked Keith out of his mother's hearing and asked: "What happened?"

"My dad was home today, he had the day off. While I was there he socked my mom because she spilled some coffee. I got between them, told him to chill. That enraged him and he lit into me worse than ever. That was when my mom did something she had never done before: She called the police. My dad said I attacked him but she told them the truth. He's being charged with aggravated assault."

The police couldn't persuade Keith to accept medical attention, he maintained that he was fine. A different story was told by the grimaces I saw as he was getting into my car, so after letting his mother off at her house I took him to an emergency room.

The ER physician called me in after examining Keith. "There are multiple welts and bruises on his chest and abdomen. Also, our X-rays show two cracked ribs. We don't tape people up for those anymore, they'll heal on their own if he doesn't put any pressure on them for the next few weeks." The doctor wrote a prescription and handed it to me. "This is for his initial pain. It's a narcotic. I've specified three capsules, no refills. Give him one tonight, one tomorrow morning and one at bedtime tomorrow. If he continues to have pain, acetaminophen or another NSAID should be adequate. Get him back here if he spikes a fever."

Turning to Keith, the doctor said: "The medication will make you very drowsy. Don't do anything that requires alertness tonight or tomorrow. Don't even go out for a walk."

On our way home, with a stop at a pharmacy to fill the prescription, I asked Keith what he thought had caused his mother to call the police this time when she had never done it before. He said: "I asked her while you were signing the police forms. She told me she was ashamed of standing by all these years and letting my dad pound on me. She had to make it stop."

At home we ate a very late dinner. Then Keith said he was going to his studio. I blocked his way: "Absolutely not. The only place you're going is to bed." I handed him one of the capsules with a glass of water. "Tomorrow I'll call the school and tell them I'm keeping you home for the rest of the week."

I waited while he took the medication. Then I escorted him to his bedroom so I could make certain he would not try to stay up.

He unbuttoned his shirt and began to take it off, wincing almost every time he moved. I stopped him. "I'll do that."

I carefully maneuvered the shirt off-- and was surprised by what I saw: His biceps were significantly larger than what I would expect on someone who lifts nothing heavier than an artist's palette.

Next, he slowly raised his arms and I pulled his T-shirt off, uncovering what the close-fitting garment had already indicated: a meaty chest also out of keeping with a sedentary life. He had a build more like that of a young athlete than an artist.

He reached for his belt buckle. I pulled his hand away. "I'll do that too" I said, opening his pants and letting them drop to his ankles.

There was a small bump at the front of his white briefs. When I drew them down, I saw that the bump had been made by the tip of a darling little penis. It was not much more than an inch long. I wanted to take it in my mouth and fondle it with my tongue, to feel it grow and become firm. I wondered how large it would be when its erection was complete.

Forcing my mind back to my current task, I said: "Sit down."

I removed his shoes and socks, clearing the way to pull his pants and underpants all the way off. When that was done, I asked: "Where do you keep your pajamas?"

He pointed to a drawer. I took out a fresh pair, and holding the shirt open I said: "Stand up and turn around."

My gaze went immediately to the alluring behind that until now I had only seen clothed. Resisting the impulse to cup the cheeks, I got him into the pajama shirt rapidly so that its tail would hide the tantalizing view. Then I turned him forward.

After buttoning the shirt, I had him sit down for the pants. When he stood again and I pulled the pants up, I was unable to suppress a laugh: The pajamas were much too large for him! The pant legs pooled on his feet, and he fairly swam in the shirt! He looked like a little boy in a grown-up's clothing. It was so cute I wanted to kiss him on top of his blond head.

"Why do you wear such oversized pj's?" I asked, folding the excess material to fit his arms and legs.

"My dad won't let my mom buy anything for me unless it's on sale" he said. "She alters things to make them fit. She hadn't gotten to these yet."

"I have a pair of pajamas from when I was a boy" I told him. "I've kept them for sentimental reasons, they were a gift from someone I loved very much. They might be a bit snug on you but they'll fit a lot better than these do. You can wear them until I get you some in your size."

I helped him into bed, taking care to avoid any motion that might cause him pain. As I arranged the covers, I commented: "You're very well developed for someone who spends his days sitting at a school desk and his evenings at an easel."

"Until this year we had gym class three times a week" he explained. "For the first half of every class the gym teacher had us working out."

"Well it has done a lot for you."

"I know. I wish they offered phys ed in the senior year."

"I have a membership at a gym. I can add you if you want."

"That would be great! I promise I won't waste it."

"I hope you won't. I'd hate to see you lose that good build."

Having now finished with the covers, I said goodnight and left the room.

Half an hour later I went in to check on him. His eyes were closed. I put a hand on his forehead. His eyes opened slowly, the medication was taking effect.

"Your forehead is cool" I said. "That's good. You don't have a fever."

He smiled and murmured groggily: "I'm glad I'm here." Then his eyes closed again.

"I'm glad too" I whispered.

After another half hour I went in for a last check before going to bed myself. A full moon had risen, tinting the walls a pastel blue. All was quiet except for the whisper of soft breathing through parted lips.

I went to the bed. Keith's beautiful face was bathed in moonlight. "Keith?" No answer. I put a hand on his forehead. No reaction. The medication had taken full effect; he was in a deep sleep.

I stood for several minutes just watching him. Then I bent down and kissed those parted lips. I had fallen in love with him.

End of Part I