Boarding School (29 page)

A moment later a poorly lit hallway was revealed to us, so we stopped our conversation and stepped out of the elevator. As it happened, the door we were interested in was right there in the hallway where we had appeared. So as Mr. Stuart pressed the doorbell to announce our arrival, I tried to take a quick look around to acquaint myself with the surroundings. It looked to me as if there were one or two other penthouses on this floor, but the dimness of the light, along with the dullness of my condition, made it impossible for me to know about this for sure.

An instant later the door in question was opened and we beheld a tall, balding, fat man in a bathrobe. “Come on in,” he said smiling. “You’re right on time.”

“Oh good,” Mr. Stuart then placed a hand on each of our shoulders and quickly guided us into the front entryway of the man’s apartment. “The traffic wasn’t so bad this time. I guess people aren’t returning from their weekends away from town until later on tonight.”

Matt and I were then stopped and turned around to face our host. “This is Clint,” Mr. Stuart said pointing to me. “And this is Matt.” “Hmm.” The man looked us over. “And you say they’ve been trained?” “Oh yes,” Mr. Stuart sounded eager to reassure the taller man of our qualifications. “They’re green, but they know what they’re supposed to do.”

The man continued for a moment longer to stare at Matt and me. “Ok,” he finally said. “You boys go sit down on the couch in the living room and wait there,” our host said dismissively.

Without a word from either of us, Matt and I then turned and walked like the little drugged automatons we had become into the man’s living room and then we sat down on his couch. As soon as we were seated, Matt and I noticed immediately that there were two silver hand mirrors placed on the coffee table in front of us with two lines of cocaine spread across the surface of each.

“You boys go ahead and do those two lines of coke I’ve left out for you,” our host called over to us.

Next to the mirrors, a box of short straws was lying on the table as well. So I picked up the box and pulled out two straws, and then I handed one of them to Matt. Eagerly then, Matt and I proceeded to do as we had been told so that a moment later, there was not even a trace of the powder left behind. It’s a funny thing about cocaine. The more of it you do, the more of it you want to do. So as Matt and I sat back on the couch and continued to sniff our gift from the fat man farther up into our heads, the two men continued to talk quietly in the entryway. We tried to listen to see if we could make out what they were saying, but they were keeping their voices too low for us to be able to understand any of their words. One thing we did observe, though, was that Mr. Stuart seemed to be awfully obsequious around this man. Matt and I were astonished to see this because we had never known our headmaster to be fearful of anyone.

“Hey, I’m Joe.” Neither of us had noticed him when he entered the room suddenly from the kitchen where he had been waiting, but now we were aware of another large man and this one was standing in the living room right in front of us. “What’s your names?” Joe then put out his meaty hand to shake mine first.

“I’m Clint,” I answered as I watched my smaller hand become enveloped by his.

“And I’m Matt.” My roommate then took his turn and shook the hand of the man who looked to us sort of like a stevedore.

“Oh good, I see you boys have met Joe,” our host said as he and our headmaster then walked into the living room to join us. “Joe here is another member of my team. I call him our straightener.”

Matt then looked at the fat man standing next to Mr. Stuart and couldn’t resist asking the obvious question. “What’s a straightener?”

“Oh,” our host replied promptly. “Well, if anyone ever gives us any trouble, I send Joe here to straighten them out for me. Right, Joe?” The fat man then looked over at his near equal in size, but noticed that Joe had already moved his mind on to the task of sizing up Mr. Stuart.

“Huh?” Joe replied when he realized that his boss was speaking of him. “Oh yeah, yeah. Right! Ha, ha, ha! And I always straighten them good too. Ha, ha, ha!”

Our host then gazed back at us with a pained expression on his face. “You’ll have to excuse Joe, boys. Sometimes he’s got a rather short attention span.”

Matt and I just looked at each other in amazement. Even in our altered conditions, it was obvious to us both that this guy Joe was as dim as the lights out in the hallway. The fat man then wheeled around on one heel and walked across the room to open a closet door. With the rest of us watching in silence, he removed a baseball bat from inside and then he closed the door again and returned to where we were all still gathered.

“Here you go, Joe,” our host said as he presented the bat to the muscular man. “I got this for you yesterday while I was over at Fenway dropping off a delivery for some of my buddies over there.”

“Oh, no! You’re kidding!” Joe was obviously overwhelmed by his boss’s gesture of kindness. “This is so great! An official Boston Red Sox baseball bat.”

The fat man then raised one of his fat fingers so he could point to some writing we could all now notice on the bat. “Yeah and see,” he announced with pride, “I even got five of the players to sign it for you.”

“Oh, man,” Joe continued to gush. “This will go great with the rest of my collection,” And then, as if he felt the need to let us in on what the whole fuss was about, Joe looked at Matt and me. “I love the Red Sox. How ’bout you boys? Don’t you just love ’em too?”

My roommate and I then squirmed a bit in our places on the couch. “Ah, sure,” we both answered. In reality, neither one of us could understand what the big deal was.

“Well, you’re very welcome, Joe. I always like to reward those who work hard for me and do a good job.”

Suddenly I found myself wondering if this entire little drama was being staged for our benefit.

“I knew you were a big fan,” the fat man continued. “So I just figured I’d pick this up for you. Do you really like it?”

“I sure do. Thanks a whole lot for this.” Joe kept running his hands along the grain in the wood and was stopping every so often so he could feel with the tips of his fingers each name that had been scribbled into its surface.

“Well, good.” Then the man in the bathrobe looked at his watch and instantly Matt and I could see a change in his demeanor. “Ok then, Joe.” It was obvious now that our host had other matters—like Matt and me—on his mind. “Thanks for stopping by.”

Joe then looked away from his bat and over at the man who was now giving him the bum’s rush. Instantly he understood that his fatso boss was wanting him to leave. “Huh? Oh yeah, ok. Right. I need to be going anyway.”

“And why don’t you ride down the elevator with Stuart, here.” It was clear now that our host was wanting to move on to the next item on his agenda for the evening.

Apparently surprised that he too was being dismissed, Mr. Stuart then turned his head to look at our host. “Oh… right. I guess it is time for me to be leaving now as well. I’ll be back for the boys then at nine.” And with that the head of our school turned and began to slink back over to the front door so he could leave the two of us behind in this strange man’s apartment to be subjected to God only knew what.

As he watched Joe then walk out of the room too, I could see that Matt was about to say something. I figured that he was now as distressed as I was that we were about to be abandoned. But before he could speak, I elbowed him on his arm to remind him that we had been warned to never speak unless we were being spoken to. And I succeeded, apparently, in communicating my meaning because after that Matt just sat back and folded his arms across his chest.

It only took Fatso another thirty seconds or so to get rid of the two men. And then he closed and locked his front door. “Sweetie!” he called out.

Immediately then, we saw two big double doors across the room, which we gathered led into the apartment’s master suite, fly open and issue forth a small woman with rich-looking, long, straight brown hair which she allowed to fall past her petite shoulders. Her appearance caused Matt and me to automatically remember our manners. We assumed right off that this person was Fatso’s wife as she rushed over to the spot in the living room where Matt and I were now standing, clad also in nothing more than a bathrobe.

Doesn’t anyone around here ever wear real clothes?
I wondered.

“Oh, are these the two new boys?” she asked. “Well, aren’t you both just the cutest little things?”

She was a fine one to be calling us little. The woman herself was only about five feet three inches high. And she was wearing enough makeup, nearly, to be mistaken for a kabuki dancer.

Fatso then walked over and stood in front of me. As if now seeing us for the first time, he looked us both over much more carefully, and then he spoke again. “Ok, boys, stand straight.”

In our inebriated and high states, standing still now seemed a bit too difficult for us to pull off. Nevertheless, we did our best to comply with the man’ s order. Fatso then reached over and rested one of his fat hands on my shoulder. “I’ll take the blond one first,” he proclaimed to his wife.

Sweetie then stepped over to stand next to Matt so she could wrap one of her arms around his shoulders. “Well then, I’ll just take the one with the black hair,” she announced with a big smile. This woman was pretty and perhaps twenty-nine or thirty years of age, and it was funny to see her as she stood next to Matt because she was so short. Together the two of them looked like a pair. “We’ll just see you two in a little while then,” Sweetie remarked sprightly.

I continued to watch as Sweetie then took Matt by the hand and led the boy away into the master bedroom. “Come along, my little dear,” she beckoned. Matt made no protest, and in another moment had disappeared with his new admirer behind the double doors. Then Fatso moved his hand onto a spot on my back between my shoulder blades and gave me a little shove to let me know he was ready for me to walk with him.

Together we then walked through the front entryway and down a hall on the other side into, what I presumed, was their guest bedroom and bath which turned out to be complete with a large walk-in shower. My host kept walking until he had reached the large double bed in the room and had sat down on its edge. He then placed his hands on my upper arms and squared me up so I could stand directly in front of him. After all that Matt and I had been through over the past several weeks, I found that I wasn’t phased when Fatso helped me off with my jacket and undid my tie for me. And I hardly noticed it when he undid my buttons and removed my shirt. But when he began to unbuckle my belt and unhook my pants, it occurred to me that this was something I probably needed to lodge a complaint over. But if I had learned anything in all of my trials at the Academy so far, I had learned that I needed to keep my mouth shut unless someone around me was wanting to put something into it. And besides, by this stage of the evening the cocaine he had given us plus everything else they had filled our bodies with had made me pretty pliable. So I simply stood there for the man and allowed him to undress me.

After he had me unzipped, he ordered me to slip off my shoes, which I did for him right away. Once my shoes were removed, he opened up my pants and allowed them to drop to the floor, and then he helped me out of them plus, while he was bent over, he used the opportunity to pull off each of my socks for me. It was almost as if I was watching these things happen to some other kid because I remember feeling surprised suddenly when I realized that I was now standing before this man with nothing on me but my underpants. Then, in a display of reverence which I found remarkable, my host placed his hands against each of my hips and turned down the elastic in my briefs and continued this process of slowly peeling down my undergarment until my underpants were off of me completely and lying on the floor with the rest of my clothes.

“There we are,” Fatso proclaimed with pleasure once he was able to view my naked body in its entirety.

I’m a little chilled,
I remember thinking.

Despite my discomfort, for the next minute or so I continued to stand where I was in that room as this man surveyed me first with his eyes and then with his hands. “My, you’re a fine one aren’t you.” He seemed to approve of me. “Your body is so firm.”

“Yes, sir,” I answered. It was nice to get a compliment regardless of the circumstances.

He continued to rub his hands all over me for a bit longer. He even played around for a moment with my hair. Then he ended his examination by wrapping a few of his large fingers around my penis and giving it a few gentle strokes. Instantly I could feel him stimulating me and, I guess because of the cocaine in my system, my penis began right away to swell. “Uuh!” I moaned as I felt the sensations begin to surge through my body. When he saw how I was reacting, Fatso picked up the pace of his hand movements on me which caused my head to dip slightly, and then as his stroking became steady and my lower body began to stiffen, my mouth opened and my head fell back slowly until I was looking up at the ceiling and on my way to heaven.

Fatso watched me as I gave over control of my body to his fondling, and he continued to stimulate me until he had gotten me fully erect. At this rate, I figured it wouldn’t be long before I’d be shooting out all over his feet. But then the man stopped his stoking and let go of my penis. “Very nice,” he said. “You’re very responsive.”

Was I supposed to say something here? Again I appreciated the compliment, I guess, but I didn’t dare to answer my host on this occasion because at this moment I was annoyed over the fact that he had started me up without finishing me off.
Doesn’t anybody ever finish anything these days? \
thought as I remembered similar feelings of frustration from the night before in the mud pit.

“Yes, I think you’ll do nicely,” he said, obviously pleased with the offering my headmaster had made of me. I felt as if I was a turkey being picked out and prepared in advance for a Thanksgiving meal. Then he stood up again. “Follow me, son.”