Chapter 11

In point of fact, I did have somewhat of a crush at school. It wasn’t a major part of my life, because Lily had filled it up so thoroughly that I barely had room to think of anyone else. As the weeks dragged on, though, and especially as our parents seem to have no plans for a night out any time soon, I found myself thinking more and more about the object of my affection, even to the point that I sometimes didn’t think exclusively about Lily when I masturbated.

Unfortunately for Dad, if he were ever to find out, my crush wasn’t a girl. Timothy was a chubby, slightly dorky boy whom, against all odds, I’d befriended in homeroom class on my first day as a freshman. We mostly hung out in the company of other friends, but he and I clearly shared a somewhat stronger affinity than either of us did with the others. We’d always sit next to each other at the coffee shop and sometimes carry on our own conversation as the others joked around us. With three or four packed into each side of a booth, we’d be rubbing shoulders, literally, and I always felt a little bit of a frisson if my bare arm touched his.

He seemed like he’d be soft and comfortable to make out with, but I didn’t think he was gay. I knew I wasn’t gay, but I’d always had occasional crushes on boys, even when I was little. I had vague memories of playing doctor with a close friend in elementary school and being excited and wanting to go further, but being rebuffed. I quickly learned this was something to be kept to yourself, but over the years I’d often had obscure fantasies about other boys’ naked bodies.

I started masturbating quite late and when I did, it was often the mental image of boys (like the one I’d seen in a locker room) that brought me to the climax (if only because I’d seen them naked, whereas my girl classmates’ bodies remained a mystery). But all that had receded when Lily and I learned to bring each other to orgasm. Now, I found myself fantasizing about touching Timothy all over; thinking about seeing his bare midriff when he leaned back and laughed, wondering what his penis looked like.

It didn’t seem to me that I’d ever be likely to find out, but as so often happened, events took their own course. Timothy and I had been talking more and more as I tried desperately to fill the empty hole in my life and he invited me over to play video games; he had a home computer, something we didn’t have that I didn’t know much about. As we sat in front of his Apple II and he demonstrated diskette after diskette (all, I gathered, copied from classmates; there was apparently a diskette trading ring at school) I looked at his smooth face and bright eyes and felt a little woozy.

Timothy, amazingly, seemed to pick up on it, and even more amazingly, he wasn’t upset about it. In fact, he kept touching my arm as he talked enthusiastically about computers. When his single mom came home from work, he suggested I stay for dinner. I called my parents, who knew I was visiting a friend after school (they seemed so happy when I told them in the morning) and they agreed; in fact, they suggested if I wanted that maybe I could stay over, if not today, then some other day. And of course invite my friend over too.

Naturally, I wasn’t going to ask Timothy or his mom if I could stay, but as it turned out, I didn’t have to. His mom turned out to be a fascinating, intelligent, and highly perceptive woman who asked didn’t mind talking, in an amazingly non-condescending, among-equals way with teenagers. Timothy obviously adored her, and I could see why.

Of course I couldn’t tell her about the most important problem I had, but she probed me expertly and I found myself revealing thoughts and secrets that I didn’t even know I had. By the time we realized how late it was, Alice (she asked me to call her that) suggested that I just stay over, and I told her I knew my parents were OK with that. I was worried - I hadn’t actually said I was staying over, but it was rather late to call. Eventually I decided that they’d probably already assumed I was staying; I’d given them Timothy’s phone number and I though they’d probably have called if they were concerned.

The apartment was a small two-bedroom - actually more of a one bedroom with a very small office space off the main room that had been converted into Timothy’s room. Alice offered to set up an air mattress next to Timothy’s bed, but he utterly shocked me by saying “It’s OK Mom, I guess we can both squeeze into the bed.”

I could barely believe my ears. Alice seemed utterly unfazed. “OK, guys, I’m hitting the sack. Don’t stay up too late, tomorrow’s another day.” Timothy and I took turns in the bathroom brushing our teeth; fortunately they had an unused spare toothbrush. We went into his tiny room, with barely enough space for a queen size bed and a small desk, and without further ado he stripped to his underwear.