It seemed incredibly stupid to me, and
weak
was not a strong enough word to describe the followers who had allowed one person to have so much power over themâand could be so easily influenced into doing things they
knew
were wrong. I found it incredibly hard to believe, and I finally decided that Dr. Drake's conclusions had to have been faulty.
Psychology, after all, was hardly an exact science.
And even if Dr. Drake's conclusions were accurate, this activity had occurred at a small, elite college in the Northeast where all the students came from privilege; it surely wasn't much of a reach to conclude that this conduct had been the result of ennui.
Surely the students at CSUP wouldn't be like that. From all the research I'd done on the school, the majority of the student body came from the middle class. And I found it hard to believe that kids from a middle-class background would act as poorly as spoiled kids whose parents gave them everything on a silver platter. Some of the students at St. Bernard had fallen into that same categoryâand I'd avoided them at all costs.
But I was also incredibly excited. I had my own apartmentâmy own
place
âfor the first time in my life, and I was starting a new adventure, a whole new beginning. I was going to be me for the first time. At St. Bernard, everyone knew who my dad wasâwe all knew who we all wereâbut I didn't want to be known as Terry Valentine's son. I wanted to be just Jordy Valentine, another student among the seventeen thousand or so at CSU-Polk. I wanted people to like me for me.
And there was another reason I hadn't shared with my parents.
It wasn't like they'd care one way or the other that I was gay. Of course they would be supportiveâthey always were. But while I knew at some point I would have to have a conversation with them about it, the whole thought of talking to my parents about my sex life made me squirm. I was a virgin, and I wanted to get that out of the way before I went to Harvard. I'd watched a lot of pornography I'd found on the Internet, and I couldn't wait to give it a try. Maybe, if I was really lucky, I'd fall in love.
Mom and Dad were not homophobic. Dad's assistant Lars was gayâand I knew Dad had written a check for several hundred thousand dollars to fight the passage of that horrible Proposition 8 ballot initiative he said was an insult to the U.S. Constitution. But knowing I was gay would just make them worry even more than they already were. The San Joaquin Valley was pretty conservative, and so was Polk. But the university had a reputation as one of the most progressive campuses in the state, and in California that was saying a lot. Polk also had a pretty strong and vibrant gay community. The Greek system was one of the few in the country that welcomed gays and lesbians with open arms. I figured it was better to get my feet wet as a young gay man in a smaller city with a strong community rather than jumping into San Francisco or West Hollywood or New York with both feet. No, these two years in Polk were going to be all about me finding myself before I left for Harvard.
So I was a little nervous but a lot excited.
I pulled into the driveway for the Alhambra Apartments and swiped my entry card at the guard gate. I'd wanted to live in the dorms, but this was a battle I let my parents win. The Alhambra was a gorgeous luxury complex with heavy securityâway out of the price range of the average studentâand I'd allowed them to get me an apartment there as a compromise. The security would make them feel better, and it was a really nice place. I'd picked out the furniture I wanted, and Lars took care of getting the apartment set up for me. He'd even stocked the kitchen with groceries. I drove around to the building I was going to call home for the next two years and pulled into a parking spot underneath a palm tree. I sat there in the car for a few moments, taking deep breaths. Opposite the building was a swimming pool. When I got out of the car I saw a guy climbing out of the pool, and I caught my breath.
He was tall, and once he was out of the pool he shook his head. Drops of water flew in all directions. He was deeply tanned, and his skin was smooth other than a slight patch of hair in the center of his impressively developed chest. His entire body was defined and sculpted muscle. His waist was very narrow, and the cuts between his six-pack were deep. Two deep grooves ran from his upper pelvic bones down toward the top of his low-rise, white bikini. The white Lycra clung to a long, thick penis that reached from the center of the bikini almost all the way to his right thigh. Underneath was a thick set of balls. I gasped a bit, unable to tear my eyes away from this godlike apparition. He turned around, and my own cock began to stir inside my pants. The bikini exposed the top of his crack, and his ass was firm, compact, and round. I watched, enthralled, as he ran his towel over his skin, wiping away drops of water. Every muscle in his body flexed when he moved, his broad back rippling as he bent one way and then the other. Finally, he finished and stretched out on a lounge chair, placing a pair of sunglasses over his eyes.
No one at St. Bernard came even remotely close to that level of perfection.
The spell broken, I couldn't help but grin. If this was the kind of view I was going to get, I was going to like it here just fine.
I locked up the car, walked around to the staircase, and climbed up to the second floor. I was just putting my key into the lock when the door across from mine opened. “Hey, neighbor!” a voice said from behind me.
I turned and smiled. “Hi. I'm Jordy.”
He stuck out his right hand and grinned at me. “Blair Blanchard.” His robe fell open, revealing a navy blue bikini. I caught my breath. Blair was a little shorter than me, and the broad smile lit up a handsome face, creating dimples in his tanned cheeks. His hair was bluish black and curly, cropped a little short, and his bluish green eyes were set on either side of a sculpted nose. His lips were thick and his body lean, definition lines cut into every muscle. A trail of curly black hairs ran down from his navel to the waistband of the bikini. The bulge inside the blue Lycra was impressive, but nothing like the guy at the pool'sâbut then, that guy was practically a freak of nature.
This apartment complex was apparently full of gorgeous guys who wore tiny bikinis.
Oh, I was
definitely
going to like it here.
“Nice to meet you.” I shook his hand. His grip was strong, and I noticed the veins bulging in his forearms.
“Welcome to Polk and the Alhambra.” He let go of my hand and scrutinized my face. “You're here for college?”
I nodded and opened my door. “Yeah. Can I get you a drink or something?”
“No, I'm not thirsty, but thanks.” He grinned at me. “But I do want to see the inside of your apartment.” He winked. “Jeff and I saw the furniture being delivered yesterday. You have excellent taste.”
“Jeff?”
“My boyfriend.”
My heart sank.
Of course he has a boyfriend,
I told myself as I beckoned him to follow me inside.
Gorgeous guys like him are undoubtedly all taken.
“Does he live with you?” I asked as I went into the kitchen and opened a can of Coke.
Blair walked into the living room and whistled. “This is really nice.” He plopped down on the couch. He looked at the painting hanging over the wide-screen TV and whistled again. “Is that a Lindsey Smolensky?” He looked at me, his head cocked to one side and his eyes narrowed just a fraction. “Those are worth a fortune. My dad has a few at his place in Palm Springs.”
“Just a print,” I lied, cursing at myself. So much for just being another college student! I made a mental note to have the painting shipped back home.
“Oh, come on, now, don't bullshit a bullshitter.” He crossed his legs, exposing the bulge in his blue bikini. I tried not to stare. “For one thing, this place ain't cheap, Jordy. Neither is any of this furniture.” He gave me a wink. “Don't worryâthere aren't many students living here, and any student you might have over wouldn't know the difference between that painting and something you bought at a gas station.” He narrowed his eyes. “I gather you don't want anyone to know you have money?” He grinned. “Hey, it's okay, really. I know the feeling. My parents are Steve Blanchard and Nicole Blair.”
It was my turn to goggle at him. “Seriously?” They were two of the biggest film stars in the world. Even at St. Bernard, where the faculty disdained popular culture, I'd heard of them. I'd never seen any of their films, but it was almost impossible to go on the Internet and not run across a photo of one or the other. I could actually see the resemblance to both of them in his face.
He threw his head back and laughed. “Yes, seriously. So I know where you're coming from, right? You don't want people to like you because you have money, right? You want them to like you for you.”
I nodded.
He shrugged. “Cute. Me, I don't care why people like me as long as they like me.” He made a gesture with his hand. “Then again, only someone with the most pedestrian of tastes wouldn't like me.” He grinned, blinking his eyes rapidly.
I laughed. There'd been no one like Blair at St. Bernard.
Blair got up and walked over to the door to my balcony. He unlocked it and pulled it open. “Ah, you're luckyâyou've got a pool view.” I was just about to say something about the gorgeous hunk at the pool when Blair screamed, “JEFF! JEFF!”
I walked out on the balcony just as the hunk in the white bikini got up from the lounge chair and looked, shielding his eyes.
“NEW NEIGHBOR!” Blair shouted, gesturing at me with his arms, and then waved for him to come over.
“That's your boyfriend?” I managed to stutter out as I watched the god in the white bikini gather up his stuff and start shuffling toward us across the parking lot.
“Tongue back in your mouth, young one.” Blair shook his head at me. “Yes, that's my boyfriend, Jeff Morgan, he of the godlike body that stops traffic, makes pussies drip, and gets gay men hard with just one glimpse of his physical perfection.” He blew me a raspberry. “I suppose you're wondering what a schlub like me is doing with such a perfect specimen.”
“Actually, no,” I replied. “You're just as sexy as he is.”
Blair blinked at me a few times, and his face softened into a smile. “I do believe you're serious, bless your heart.” He reached over and touched the side of my face gently. He sighed. “I know, it's not like I'm some kind of a troll or something, but I've gotten used to not being noticed whenever Jeff's around.”
“I don't understand.” I was confused. Blair was one of the best-looking guys I'd ever seen, and his body was sexy. Sure, Jeff was incredible, but so was Blair.
“You really don't, do you?” Blair smiled a little sadly. “You'll learn fast enough, I'm afraid. I'll go let him in.”
I walked back inside the apartment just as the front door opened and a divine creature walked in. His towel was draped around his tanned shoulders, and I couldn't do anything but stare. “I'm Jeff,” he said, offering me his right hand.
I shook it and opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He was gorgeous, without a doubt, but I
knew
him from somewhere. An image from the Internet flashed through my mind. “Oh, my God, you're Colt Madison,” I blurted out before I could stop myself. My knees felt weak.
How many times had I beaten off to his pictures online?
Jeff blushed under his tan, and Blair laughed. “I told you, Jeff, you could have been a huge porn star.” Blair turned to me. “He does just one video shoot and you wouldn't believe the fan mail. Every gay porn producer wants him to come back to work. Jeff, this is Jordy.”
“I told you, I don't want to do that anymore.” He turned to me and flashed a smile that made my knees start to buckle. “Thanks, though, Jordy.”
“But you dance in the gay bars . . .”
“I don't have to fuck anyone, either.” Jeff cut him off. “It's different, Blair, and you know it.” He put his big hand on my shoulder. “I'm a go-go boy, Jordy. I hope you won't think badly of me. I only did that one shootâI did several different scenes in one weekend, and they used them in several different movies.” He sighed. “It gives the impression that I did a lot of movies. I've regretted doing it ever sinceâit doesn't seem like I'll ever live that down, either.”
“Think badly of you?” I gulped. “I think it's
cool.
”
“Tongue back in your mouth, child,” Blair commanded. “I take it you've never met a porn star before?”
“I'm not a porn star!” Jeff insisted.
“Darling, I'm teasing you,” Blair said patiently. “Now, Jordy, are you a freshman?”
I knew it was rude to stare at Jeff, but I couldn't take my eyes off him. I nodded.
“Perhaps you should rush our fraternity,” Blair went on when he realized I wasn't going to say anything else.
That got my attention away from Jeff. “A fraternity?”