Pickup Pt. 02

Pickup -- Part II

by RalphyNJ

Chapter Four

I lay awake that night, deep in thought. I wanted to tell Keith I loved him but I knew that if I did, he would renew his request for sex. Although just the thought of having sex with Keith made me hard, I had told him the first time he asked, that I consider anyone younger than twenty to be underage. And as of now, his twentieth birthday was still eight months away.

I decided not to say anything until then. I hoped that in the meantime, the way I treat him would give him some indication of how I feel.

Having settled the matter in my mind, I fell asleep.

-----

During the night I dreamed that Keith was standing in front of me wearing only his white briefs. He was smiling. "I turned twenty today. Now you can do whatever you want with me."

I knelt and pulled the briefs down. His little penis was pointing straight out. I put my mouth over it and suckled like a nursing infant. It was warm and pliant, and it sent out little spurts of sweet cum.

I woke up shooting so powerfully that some of it splashed my face.

-----

Keith arrived at the table for breakfast looking surprisingly untroubled. I asked if the fractured ribs were causing much pain. He said it wasn't bad enough to warrant taking the second narcotic capsule. I told him not to be a stoic if the pain worsens, and reminded him of the doctor's instructions to stay in the house if he does take the medication. He assured me that he would do as he was told.

Naomi asked what he would like for breakfast. He replied that she's an excellent cook so he knew he would like whatever she chose to make.

"You're in a remarkably good mood" I said, "for someone who's recovering from a ferocious attack."

He said he was happy that his mother had asserted herself and that his father would be facing justice.

Keith's buoyant mood was contagious; I left the house in high spirits.

-----

At eleven thirty I was in a meeting when my cell phone rang. I glanced at the screen.

Keith's name was flashing. I had told him not to call me unless the matter was urgent; I excused myself from the meeting and tapped 'Accept'.

Keith's voice trumpeted in my ear: "He did it, Eric! He hurt her really bad!"

"Where are you?"

"Hospital!"

"Which one?"

I heard him talking to someone in the background. "Meadowbrook!"

"I'll be right there."

-----

I found Keith in the Visitors area. He was moving from chair to chair, so agitated that all he could do at first in answer to my questions was babble incoherently.

"Alright" I said. "Don't try to speak. Just sit with me."

When he had calmed down somewhat, I asked him to tell me what he knew so far.

"The pain got worse, I was going to take the second capsule. So I called my mom to let her know I couldn't visit her today. When I tried three times and there was no answer I went there to tell her something was wrong with the phone line. Police were outside the house, stringing up that yellow tape they put around crime scenes, and an ambulance was just pulling away. They said the patient in the ambulance was my mom."

"How did you get here?"

"A detective who was coming to interview her let me ride with him. He told me that she came to the police station this morning with bail money, saying she didn't want her husband sitting in jail. The arresting officer warned her that he was dangerous but she took him home anyway. They weren't home even an hour when the neighbors heard screaming and called 911. The police found my mom unconscious on the kitchen floor and him hiding in a closet, trying to wipe blood off a baseball bat."

"Have you seen her?"

"No" he said, reaching for my hand. "When I got here she was already in surgery."

We sat for hours, awaiting news. Finally, a man wearing green scrubs approached us, pulling down a surgical mask. "Keith Lawrence?"

"Yes" Keith answered, tightening his grip on my hand as we both rose to our feet.

Using phrases the doctor had been taught for these situations, he said: "We did everything we could, but your mother's injuries were too severe. She has passed away. Please accept my condolences."

Keith dropped my hand.

I hugged him. "Oh Keith, I'm so sorry."

He stood motionless and silent, seemingly oblivious to my embrace.

Then he threw his arms around me and clung with a frantic desperation.

He began to sob. He begI prepared to hear him cry.

He didn't. Instead, he pushed his face into my chest to stifle the sobs.

I could almost feel his need for the consolation that only a release of tears would provide, but he was holding back in an ill-conceived effort to be 'manly'. I couldn't force him to cry; the most I could do was give him all possible support and wait for the need to overwhelm him.

-----

At the house, Keith regarded his dinner without interest. I tried to get him to eat something. He said he wasn't hungry. But he remained at the table while I ate what little my own dismal mood allowed, and he trailed after me when I went to my office. There, he sat a few feet away while I halfheartedly updated my business records.

At eleven o'clock I announced that I was going to bed. "You should go to bed too."

"Ok" he said, his tone making it plain that he wished I would stay up with him. But I saw no benefit in our keeping a somber vigil. I put a hand on his shoulder. "Go to bed, try to get some rest. It might help. I'll see you in the morning."

-----

Sleep did not come easily to me that night, so when I did drop off, only to be roused by a hand rocking my shoulder, my reaction was an angry "WHAT?"

I opened my eyes. Keith was standing there.

"Oh Keith I didn't mean to snap at you, I was startled. Do you need something?"

He hesitated. "... Could I lie next to you for a while?"

I was sleeping naked as usual, and Keith had not changed into pajamas - he had only stripped to his briefs. It would be inadvisable to have him this close to me. "Keith, I don't think--"

"Just for a while? Please?"

With that one word, spoken in a voice I had never heard from him, he conveyed such misery that I couldn't refuse. Brushing aside my misgivings, I moved to the far side of the bed. "Alright. For a while."

As a precaution, I lay facing away from him and held down the blanket in back of me to hide my nakedness.

I was hoping that with me lying next to him, Keith would be able to sleep. The tossing and turning I felt from his side of the bed shattered that hope.

I ached to do something, anything, that might give him comfort. I rolled over to face him.

He was turned the other way. I addressed his back: "It will get better, Keith. I know. I've been there. It will get better."

He stopped moving but didn't speak.

After a while I dozed off.

I'm a sound sleeper, it took some time before I was awakened by a feeling of pressure and opened my eyes.

I was lying on my side, with my legs drawn up a little. Keith had backed across the bed and spooned into me.

He fit like a hand in a glove.

Nestled there, he had fallen asleep. I would have been gratified if not for the fact that his briefs-covered behind was pressing on the shaft of my erect penis, pushing it partway into his cleft.

I started to back away.

He whimpered.

After waiting a moment, I gave it another try.

He whimpered again and reached for me.

I had been aching to comfort him. Was I going to ignore this opportunity?

I returned to my original position and put an arm around him.

He purred. Then he was quiet.

=====

When next I awoke, dawn was brightening the room and Keith was back on the other side of the bed. As soon as he saw my eyes open, he said: "Please don't be mad at me for staying all night."

"I'm not mad at you" I told him. "I can't have you in bed with me every night, but other than that I'll do everything I can to help you through this. Come to me for whatever you need, even if it's only to talk."

"Thank you.... Could I ask you something?"

"What?"

"Last night you said you've been through this. Did someone kill your mother?"

"No, I was talking about an uncle I lived with until I was twenty-one. Everything I am, everything I've accomplished, I owe to him. He died young from an aggressive form of cancer. I wasn't prepared to lose him so early - if you ever can be prepared to lose someone you love. His death left me in such despair that I felt like abandoning my fine-arts business, the business he inspired me to establish and helped me to make a success. It was a constant reminder of my loss."

"But you didn't abandon it."

"No, I didn't. I decided that if I walked away I would be letting him down."

Keith was silent for a moment. "... If you felt like abandoning your business, maybe it's not so strange that I don't feel like painting right now."

"It's not strange at all."

"I'll start again soon, I won't let you down."

"Don't start until you're ready. Even if that turns out to be never. You won't be letting me down. Any other questions?"

There was a long pause. "... Could I sleep with you for one more night?"

Now it was my turn to pause.

"Just one more?" he begged.

"... Ok, one more night. When I get home from work I'll give you those pajamas I told you about. I'd like you to wear them tonight, I won't have a chance to get you pajamas in your own size until later this week. Now how about some breakfast?"

Keith made no move to get up. "I didn't sleep much last night, I'm still pretty tired. Could I stay in bed a little bit longer?"

"Sure."

"Would you stay with me? Unless you're too hungry."

"I'll survive" I said, impulsively taking him in my arms.

He nuzzled my chest.

I had thought that Keith's purported lethargy was just a ploy to keep me in bed with him, but in less than a minute his eyes had closed and his slow, even breathing made it apparent that he really had been tired.

I fought the urge to fall asleep myself; I didn't want to give up the pleasure of having Keith in my arms.

-----

That evening, Keith showed up for bed wearing my boyhood pajamas. I knew they would be snug on him but I didn't expect that they would fit as if they had been sprayed on: Every detail of his body, every curve, every valley was revealed. Even the round occupants of his pouch were clearly defined.

This was even more arousing than when I had seen him naked. Being so close when he was dressed this way would trigger urges I'd have to resist. However, I was the one who had given him those pajamas, and I had agreed to one more night in my bed.

I moved over, resolving to buy him new pajamas the very next day.

As before, I started out with my back to him. But I must have turned in my sleep, because I found him again spooned against me, with his cleft cradling my erection.

=====

Keith's 'just one more night' proved no more accurate than his 'just for a while'. Night after night, sooner or later I would feel my shoulder being rocked and would wake to find him standing there, begging to sleep with me until morning. Reluctantly I would take him in, despite the fact that I always ended up with his lithe young body spooned into mine, and even in his new pajamas his cleft would be wrapped partway around my rigid shaft. I tried also wearing pajamas, hoping it would reduce my arousal, but I was so used to sleeping naked that I found the pajamas too confining.

I became more and more fearful that I might lose control and do something I would regret. Finally I had to tell him he couldn't sleep with me anymore.

=====

Keith's grief was enveloping him like a toxic mist, draining away all motivation, depriving him of all joy. Even the graduation he had looked forward to so eagerly did not raise his spirits. For days afterward he wandered through the house, a boat adrift, anchoring only occasionally to leaf through my daily newspaper.

Then one day I saw him looking at the Help Wanted Ads.

Seeing my shadow, he looked up. "The computer work I do for you takes a couple of hours a week at most. That doesn't come anywhere near paying for my upkeep. When I was in training to become a commercial artist your commissions would eventually pay you back for the difference. Now I don't know if I'll ever paint again. I have to pay you some other way. I need to get a job."

I didn't want any money from Keith, but a job could be therapeutic. He didn't have to know that any money I got from him would go into his trust fund.

Chapter Five

Daryl had been denied bail and was behind bars, but when six months went by without any further word from the District Attorney's office I began to worry that Daryl's lawyer might use the lack of a speedy trial to get him released.

Then, out of the blue, we were notified that the trial would begin the following day.

=====

We got to the courthouse before the doors opened. We didn't want to miss one minute of the trial.

First the prosecution presented its case, which featured gruesome autopsy photos showing the injuries Keith's mother had suffered.

Then, Daryl's side had its turn:

Ignoring his lawyer's advice, Daryl took the stand. Looking directly at the jury, he said he had acted in self-defense.

His claim disintegrated under the Prosecutor's withering cross-examination: By the end of his testimony Daryl had admitted that the minute his wife called the police he made up his mind to kill her.

The jury returned with a verdict in less than an hour: Guilty of Premeditated Murder with Special Circumstances due to its brutality.

On hearing the verdict, Daryl shook his fist defiantly and shouted: "I'll kill the little fairy too, the first chance I get!"

The judge made sure he would never get that chance: He was sentenced to life in prison with no opportunity for parole.

-----

Keith was subdued on our way home from the courthouse. I asked what was troubling him.

"You heard what my dad said on the stand, he killed my mom because she called the police. She did it for me, it's my fault she was murdered."

I pulled over and stopped the car. "No, Keith. It's Daryl's fault. And if you'll forgive me for saying this, your mother is not blameless: Daryl was getting ever more violent, yet she refused to leave him. It's what many women do, they stay with an abusive man and he ends up killing them. Your father was a time bomb; if she hadn't made that call, something else would have sparked the murderous rage that boils continuously just under the surface in people like Daryl."

"Yes, I knew he was a time bomb!" Keith shouted. "I told her!" Then more quietly: "But I didn't do enough to make her understand. I failed her."

I shook my head. "No you didn't. Your mother was determined to believe that Daryl loved her too much to cause her severe harm. Nothing would have been enough to make her change her mind."

"Then I should have gone there earlier that day."

"You had no reason to. You didn't know Daryl was out of jail, you thought your mother was safe. And what if you had been there? Do you think you could have stopped him? You know how strong he is. He would have killed both of you, his outburst in court made that clear. You didn't fail her, Keith. The situation was beyond your control."

He let out a deep, exhausted sigh. "I suppose you're right. I couldn't..."

Then the tears he had been suppressing for so long began to flow.

I held him while he cried himself out.

=====

Those tears had the healing effect I was hoping for: Day by day, Keith was more like his old self. He even took up his brushes again.

=====

In mid-October the leaves were displaying their most flamboyant autumn colors, and Keith was spending every weekend painting the landscapes he could see from the house. The vibrant autumn hues gave his paintings a new richness.

I suggested that he take the next step: "You've been reproducing the styles of the old masters, that was a good start. Now how about creating a style of your own?"

"I don't know if I can."

"Why not find out? Let your instincts guide your brush, you might be pleased with the results."

"What if my paintings don't sell?"

"Don't think about sales, paint what you feel."

"I have to think about sales, otherwise I'll be cheating you on your investment."

"I didn't bring you here as an investment."

"Yes you did! Our agreement says that I have to produce work you can sell for a commission!"

"Did you read the agreement? I gave you a copy."

"No, I trust you."

"An appropriate word, since the agreement sets the terms of your trust fund. That's all it does, Keith. There's nothing about taking a commission on your work. I told Daryl you were an investment because if I had told him the truth he wouldn't have let you go."

Keith looked crushed. "So when you said I have an extraordinary artistic talent... it was a lie?"

"No. What I'm telling you is that it wasn't the reason I wanted to bring you here."

"What was the reason?"

"To quote a character in one of Shakespeare's plays, thereby hangs a tale. This will take some time; let's go into the living room where we can get more comfortable."

I got settled on a couch, Keith chose an upholstered chair, and I began: "My father died when I was just a toddler. My mother didn't have the money to raise a child on her own, so within a year she remarried. Her new husband had been very considerate while they courted, and when they married he kept a promise to adopt me. But even before their honeymoon was over he had showed his true nature: He was controlling and violent. Sound familiar?"

"He sure does."

"He terrorized my mother and brutalized me. Even though I was only three years old he beat me whenever I did something that annoyed him. He had my mother so intimidated that all she could do was cry; I don't know how long I would have survived in that house if the uncle I once mentioned to you hadn't grown suspicious of the many reasons my stepfather gave for my frequent injuries. He offered to take me for a weekend, purportedly to give my parents some alone time. My stepfather jumped at the chance to, as he put it, 'be rid of the brat for a few days'. He didn't expect that my uncle would take the opportunity to examine me, find the bruises and lacerations all over my body, and go immediately to the Child Protective Services Bureau."

"Did they take action?"

"They sure did, they conducted a thorough investigation. My uncle said he would take my case to the newspapers if they didn't. Based on their findings, my stepfather was convicted of child abuse, both my parents were declared unfit, and I was sent to live with my uncle's family. Keith, it was like waking from a nightmare: The family made me feel like one of their own, and my uncle became not only my provider but my guide, my counselor, my teacher. Best of all, he taught the most important things by example: For instance the way he treated everyone, no matter who they were, taught me about empathy."

"He must have been an exceptional man."

"He was. I try to live up to his example. It isn't easy."

"You said you moved out when you were twenty-one."

"Yes, because by then thanks to him I could support myself. It would have been wrong to keep living off his generosity. So I moved out. But we remained close in what proved to be... the few months... left to him..." My voice was breaking. "I'm sorry Keith, I have to stop for a minute. I still can't talk about him without feeling my loss all over again."

Keith came and sat down next to me. "I'm sorry I made you dredge up such a painful memory."