Chapter 12

The entire crowd was already looking in my direction, tipped off moments earlier by Jackie’s departure from the hall. It seemed to me that they must all be holding their breaths, so absolute was the sudden silence.

The crowd had now formed two concentric circles around the clear area in front of the stage. The inner one consisted of the eighty-odd guests, dressed in a random assortment of colors. The outer was the one hundred forty students and graduates in their class uniforms.

There was a sudden gasp from the audience, followed by a burst of applause louder than I would have thought possible from so few people. I knew Grant had just appeared behind me in the doorway.

I tried to walk normally but suspected I was giving an impression of a royal procession. I walked between the two lines of ropes from the door to the stage. As I reached the back edge of the crowd, I could see excited students on either side of me. All were cheering happily, some of them shouting Grant’s name. To my right I saw Melissa, Jana, and Holden. Jana was pumping her fist over her head, a huge grin on her face, while Holden was literally bouncing on his feet, his hands clenched by his sides.

I reached the rope circle, and unhooked one velvet rope to let Grant pass through. The shouting grew louder, and I caught sight of Kathleen, about a quarter of the way around the circle to the right. The sullen look was gone from her face. In its place was complete astonishment, as she turned her head left and right, in utter disbelief of the crowd’s reaction. She had never expected, never imagined, the level of respect, of honor, that everyone in the room, students, graduates, club members, gave Grant. I recalled Kathleen had been planning to be at a concert right now. Whatever amount of excitement the concert crowd might show at the emergence of the band they had come to see, it couldn’t match the adulation being displayed, here and now, for Kathleen’s brother.

I smiled, and hooked the rope in place. Grant, all by himself, walked up the half-dozen steps onto the stage. Outside the rope circle, two students were already pulling back the pylons and ropes that had formed the corridor from the private rooms, allowing the crowd to fill in that space.

Atop the stage, Grant took a deep breath, and shook his head slightly. He nuzzled his cheek against the noose beside him, a beatific smile on his face. He started saying, “Thank you, really, thank you...” almost inaudibly over the sounds of the crowd, which gradually quieted in response.

As the room grew still once more, he opened his mouth, and seemed unable to speak. One last time, he looked at me for strength. Then he began, in a quiet voice that everyone could hear, turning slowly as he spoke to face all sides, “This room is totally full of people who are very special to me. Everybody here. I mean it. The boys in red are my classmates, and they mean so much to me, but not only them. All of the students you see around you make this Academy what it is. They’ve learned some things from me, and I’ve learned so much from them. And all of you members of the club. A lot of you, I’ve had a chance to get to know a little better in bed,” he grinned, “But all of you, including the ones I haven’t met, your support of the Academy is so important! I want to thank all of you.

“I want to especially thank Dean Porter, who does so much to make sure all of us maintain the quality of this school—you just really can’t know how much he does, but it all works because of him.”

He waited as everyone applauded the Dean.

“There’s also my dad, of course, who’s standing right here, with my sister Kathleen. Please help me tell them how glad I am to see them here.”

I helped him out by pointing to Mr. Sadler. Kathleen, suddenly realizing the applause was now partly meant for her, covered her face completely with both hands, but couldn’t resist peeking through her fingers.

“And I want you to know some of the people most responsible for what you’ll see me do. There are legends going around that I invented all of this stuff, which is really flattering, but don’t believe it, because this place isn’t like that. We all work together and learn from each other, and when you watch me today, one person you’ll see in me is Shawna. Shawna, raise your arm so they know who you are.”

The crowd turned to look and spotted the incredulous Shawna, holding her arm up as she giggled, and gave her a burst of applause.

“Also Melissa, Jana and Holden, you’ll be seeing some of them in me.” I heard a squeak from Jana, who held up her hand while she covered her mouth with the other. Beside her Holden waved his arm and grinned open-mouthed. Melissa also grinned, waved one arm, and hugged Jana with the other.

Grant went on, “It’s really not possible to name everyone who helped me do what I do, because there are so many. But I need to say one more name.

“When I was a boy, all I could think of, all I wanted to do, was come to the Academy. I thought the only reason was so I could get a chance to the best Noosemeister I could possibly be. And I’ve tried to do that with every breath, in every walking moment. But I didn’t know there was another reason I needed to be here. I had to come here to meet Amy.”

Tears suddenly welled in my eyes. I had known Grant wanted to talk to the crowd first, but hadn’t expected any of this.

“You all know who Amy is, because you’ve seen us do our shows together. But I wish you could know her the way I do, because ... she means everything to me. The others I’ve named have helped me do what I do, but more than anybody else, Amy has helped me be what I am. And now I’m not going to say anymore after this sentence, because I want the last words out of my mouth to be, I love you, Amy.”

I crouched suddenly, the heels of my palms pressed hard against my eyes, trying to stop the tears. I forced the word professional, professional, professional to echo through my mind, wiped the remaining tears away, and stood. My excitement returned. This is Grant’s hanging!

I walked to the stage and trotted up the steps to its surface, then jumped up atop the hanging platform. Standing beside Grant, one hand resting on Grant’s shoulder, I looked out at the audience.

This is it; we’re doing it; we’re really doing it! I smiled, and cleared my throat. “I’m just not really sure why you’re all here. It’s Saturday, and such a pretty day outside. I’m sure there are things you’d rather be doing.” I’d planned this opening with Kathleen in mind. I wanted Kathleen to see the value everyone present placed on what they were going to witness.

Laughter spread around the crowd, several people saying, “No!”

I made a show of looking at my surroundings. “Well, I’ve got a boy here, and a handy rope...” More laughter. “What do you suppose I should do?”

Three or four audience members called out, “Hang him!”

I turned slowly to look at all sides, my mouth hanging open theatrically. “You think I should hang him??”

A greater number called out, “Yes! Yes!” From behind the guests, some of the students started a chant, “Hang him! Hang him!”

Grant, his lips pushed out in a pout, shook his head. After watching him for a moment, I turned back to the crowd. “That’s one vote against hanging him. How many in favor?”

A loud “Aye!” from the crowd. The chant “Hang him” resumed, growing louder. Even Kathleen was caught up in the excitement, shouting with everyone else. Grant’s father looked on proudly.

A wave of my arms quieted the crowd, and I shrugged. “Well, all right, then.” The crowd cheered once more, then quieted again, intent on watching.

I took hold of the noose, looking at Grant. “I’m sorry, dear, the vote is overwhelming.” I dropped the noose down over Grant’s head and tightened it around his neck, then added a new line to end the script. “But while you’re swinging, just keep one thing in mind...” With all of the feeling I could put into my voice, I went on, “I ... love ... you!”

With that, I stepped behind Grant, untied the slip knot on the robe’s belt, and in a quick motion pulled the robe off his shoulders. Then I jumped backward off the platform, crouching down as I landed to give a clear view to the people behind me.

There was a loud gasp from the crowd, even from the students. Nearly everyone present had seen Grant naked before, but seeing him now, standing proudly alone on the platform, that beautiful face that always drew attention wherever he went, his perfect body oiled and gleaming in the spotlights, inspired universal awe beyond any I could remember at any hanging. Even Miranda’s.

I waited until the anticipation reached pin-drop silence. Then, kneeling behind the platform, I pulled the lever.

As the platform slowly sank, it was easy to hear the slight creak and whir from the mechanism, and the slight choking sound from Grant as he raised himself on tiptoes and, for the last time in his life, hung suspended by his neck.

Grant did some random kicking for a few seconds. Just teasing his audience, I think, but also getting his timing right. I quickly spread the robe across the top of the platform, and then backed farther away and slipped off the stage.

I settled myself, sitting cross-legged on the floor looking up at Grant. There was no sudden boundary, he just flowed into his first sequence: he thrust his hips forward, offering himself to a lover, then swung both legs forward, wide open: welcoming that lover into himself. Nearly all of the onlookers had seen other students do it, students who had learned it from Grant. But watching Grant do this was ... different. More. Sexier. Once, in that summer before I started at the Academy, I had gone to a club that featured music and dancing. A boy I knew, a casual friend, was there with his date, a woman who danced professionally. The boy had been taking lessons, and it showed in his dancing, but there was still such a clear difference between him and the professional. The boy could do all of the right steps, but it was obvious, in the concentration on his face and his careful movements, that he was consciously working on putting this foot here, that foot there. But when I watched his date, it seemed to me as though her legs were moving on their own, in exuberant, happy steps that she didn’t need to think about.

Then Grant switched. No, not switched. After three years of training here, and three years living with Grant, I was an expert. But even I could not see any sudden transition. Just somehow, with no perceptible break, he was reaching down, feeling for something to stand on. He was desperate, trying to survive, hoping for a reprieve perhaps. And then he was climbing an invisible staircase, as if he could save himself if he could just reach the top. He did that for nearly a minute, then somehow he was rippling from his neck down to his lower legs, over and over, like a flag waving in the wind.

I had learned all these moves myself, seen them developed and perfected. I could name the student who had developed each of them ... Shawna, Holden, Jana, and Grant himself. But watching Grant do them in his own terminal hanging ... knowing that it would go on until he was dead ... I couldn’t think. My consciousness wasn’t behind my eyes any more. It was in my neck, imagining the lethal caress of the noose, and in my pussy, a need unfulfilled. I clasped my hands behind my back, not wanting to cum too soon—but also to avoid taking the audience’s attention away from Grant. As if I could, at this point!

All of the club members watching—they all understood what they were seeing here. I could hear it in the gasps. They had never before seen Grant in a solo hanging. They were all conscious of seeing something special.

Grant now shifted into a composite dance, inviting his invisible lover, enfolding her in his legs, then reaching desperately for the platform, then climbing imaginary steps, then shimmying like a flag in the wind ... all blended smoothly together. He slowly turned left, away from me, eventually facing the opposite direction, then a full turn right, gradually giving everyone a view from all angles. Moans from the audience were very audible now.

Some of the moans were mine. I found I was rubbing my crotch slowly, without being aware of when I started, the electricity of sexual arousal coursing through my body. It seemed no less intense than it had that first time I’d hanged Grant, in our room. Memories of so many hangings, and of the intense lovemaking that followed, came flooding back, making me even more aroused.

When my own orgasm came, I forced myself to keep my eyes open, watching Grant for the signal. I had a responsibility here.

After about twelve minutes airborne, as my breathing settled back into a normal rhythm following my climax, Grant turned again to face me, and gave the small foot-signal that told me to start my own movement. Grant had needed to work to persuade me to take an active role. He’d eventually convinced me that this was something he wanted very much. Now, still sitting on the floor, I started moving crab-like around the circular stage. As I moved, Grant turned to face me, again wrapping his legs around an invisible lover—me! The audience, already aware of Grant’s feelings for me, could see that Grant was now performing for me alone. They could see that he was making love to me, even though we were separated by several feet. As Grant reached the limits of his ability to turn, he signaled with his foot again. I started moving the other way, as the rope holding Grant untwisted, then twisted in the opposite direction.