Chapter 4

"Oh!" I just about had a heart attack when I opened the shower curtain and saw Scott sitting on the closed lid of the toilet. I hadn't heard him come in or anything. "You scared the crap out of me!"

"Sorry." He handed me a towel. Our bathroom is sort of small and there wasn't a whole lot of room between us as I stood there wet and naked.

"Thanks." I rubbed my body dry while he watched me. "What are you doing in here? I thought I locked the door."

"No, you didn't." Scott is different from other people. Maybe he's just normal or something, and the rest of us are strange, I don't know.

He's almost 20 and got certified through the vo-tech to fix cars. He's probably the best mechanic in the family, better even than our dad, but he doesn't look like a mechanic. Scott looks mostly like me, which means he looks more like our mom than he does Daddy. His hair is light and he's the only one of us who wears it long, meaning it actually covers his ears and even touches his collar. Scott's eyes are sky blue and he has the same heart shaped face and small pert nose as me. He's pretty, even more than Greg, who's pretty too, but takes after our dad. Yeah. Scott's beautiful. People say I'm beautiful, but I'm a girl so I don't think it means as much as saying it about a man.

Scott looked at me with those blue eyes like mine and I wondered what he was thinking about. I'd always been close with all of my brothers. Not all of them were close to each other though, which I never figured out. Henry and Mark couldn't even be in the same room together for more than ten minutes without fighting. And Steve and Scott, they never talked, not even to argue, even though they shared the same bedroom. It was like the other one didn't exist for them. That's why it came as such a big surprise when Scott said what he did.

"Steve told me about you guys."

"What?" I narrowed my eyes and stared at him. "What do you mean?"

Inside my mind was a jumble of thoughts. Why wasn't Steve here? And hadn't he promised me that he wouldn't say anything? I tried to remember what Steve and I had said to each other the night before. I couldn't remember exactly, but I was pretty sure he'd told me he wouldn't ever say anything to anyone. And if he did tell someone, I'd have bet my last dollar that it wouldn't have been Scott!

"He said you gave him a blow-job."

"Why would he tell you that?" I asked, not really prepared to try and dispute the truth. Nor was I ready to admit it though. But I'd told Greg already, so ... Obviously secrets were hard to keep in our family, or maybe just mine were, since I was the one in the center it seemed like. Everyone else sorta went around and through me; I don't know, but maybe that's what my daddy meant about me being the glue.

"Because, uh..." Scott looked around, but it was still a small bathroom. "I do it too."

"Do what?" I stopped moving, frozen as I bent halfway over with my left foot on the edge of the tub.

"Give Steve blow-jobs," he said softly. "I'm gay."

"Oh." I had no idea what to say to that. It didn't bother me a whole lot, obviously, and it even explained some things. I nodded and thought about it for a minute, and then I sat down on the tub, holding the towel in my lap.

"I always have been, but I couldn't tell anybody," he explained with a small laugh. "Dad would have kicked my ass and then kicked me out."

"Probably," and that was the truth, "but you told Steve?"

"A long time ago, yeah," he shrugged. "I had to tell someone or I thought I'd go crazy, you know?"

"Yeah. I do know."

"Yeah," Scott nodded. "Steve told me you'd understand and that you were ... sorta..."

"I'm gay too, yeah," I looked at him and said it without trying to be funny. "I mean, I would be if I wasn't..." I gave a helpless little shrug and lifted my towel away, exposing my pussy.

"A girl, I know." Scott gave me a wry smile. "You're lucky, believe me."

"I don't think so. You don't know what it's like, wanting to be a guy so bad all the time and every morning when I wake up, you know ... I sort of expect I'll just wake up different. Like I dream about it sometimes."

"Yeah, but you can do whatever you want to," Scott pointed out. "You can give a guy a blowjob or something and nobody's going to beat you up for it."

"I don't know. The guys I like, the kind I think I like, don't want me though. Like you, does this do anything for you at all?" I stood up and let my brother look at me, I spread my legs slightly so he could see my pussy and even reached down to spread my lips just a little.

"Well, no..." he admitted.

"See? How am I sposed to get together with a guy who wants a boy, if I'm not a boy?"

"I don't know," Scott sighed and then smiled. He made me smile too as I thought about how strange our conversation was getting.

"So why did Steve tell you?" I started drying myself off again.

"He thinks I can help you," Scott waved his hand. "Like I can be your faerie godmother or something and introduce you to all my gay friends."

He sounded a little sarcastic, or maybe just cynical, but not gay. Don't go thinking he's a stereotype fag, with a lisp and weak wrists and all that. He's definitely not. Scott's a pretty gorgeous guy, yeah, but he's a Russet too and I'd seen him kick some butt before. Plenty of times.

"Do you have a lot of gay friends?" I paused my drying and stared at him.

"Nah," he shook his head. "I knew a couple guys at the vo-tech, but they're long gone now. Mostly I just go down to Pullman if I want to find somebody, you know, like a one time thing."

"Pullman?" I gave him a look. "That's like three hours away!"

"Yeah," he said. "But what am I gonna do? I can't go cruising for sex around here!"

"Yeah, that's true, I guess." I hadn't really thought about it. "So you and Steve... ?"

"Well, I do. Steve just lets me. He's straight, but figures it's okay if some fag wants to suck his dick as long as he doesn't have to do anything else."

"That sucks." I frowned a little. "Does he ... I mean do you guys, um, you know..."

"Does he fuck me?" Scott laughed softly. "Nah. He did before, a couple times when we were still in high school, but I think it made him nervous, like he might wake up gay or something."

"He said he was going to fuck me today." I said, looking down because this was pretty weird. "Like a guy I mean."

"In your ass?" Scott grinned. "That hurts the first time," he chuckled. "The first couple times, actually."

"So?" I shrugged.

"So, I'm just telling you. Steve's got a big dick too."

"Yeah," I bit my lip. "I like it."

"Me too."

I giggled at that and Scott grinned. "Um, so are you gonna help me?" I asked.

"I don't know. We'll see." he looked at the door. "Get dressed. We'll talk in my room, okay?"

"Are you gonna fuck me?" I looked at him.

"I..." he lifted his hands. "I don't think I could. Really, Ann. I mean, it wouldn't..."

"What, because you're my brother?"

"No, I don't care about that. Steve fucked me, remember?" He laughed. "I just don't think I could get hard, you know? You're not exactly my type."

"Oh." I looked down and frowned. "Yeah. That might end up being the story of my life."

"Nah. You worry too much." He stood up and opened the door. "Just get dressed, okay?"

I got dressed quickly. Greg wasn't in our room anymore, which was sort of a relief, I suppose. He might have asked me why I took so long and then he might have gotten me to say something I shouldn't have, although I couldn't believe Scott was really gay and nobody knew about it but Steve. I put on some boys briefs and old jeans and a faded flannel shirt that was old and thin, but really comfortable. I combed my hair straight back like I do, which basically meant it stuck straight up, since it was only a couple inches long. And then I went to the bedroom Scott shared with Steve.

Their room was pretty cool. Probably the coolest one in the house because they both liked weird stuff. They had an aquarium with all kinds of fish, lava lights, a bean bag chair, a killer stereo, except they had to use headphones mostly. There were some posters on the walls and stuff. Mostly hot chicks in thongs and rock groups like Korn and Limp Bizket. I guess the girl pictures hadn't been Scott's idea, or maybe it was his way of disguising himself. I knocked and walked in and found Scott sitting in the bean bag chair playing with his old guitar, trying to play along with Johnny River's doing a live version of 'Memphis'. He always listened to off the wall music, stuff you'd never even think of listening to, but when you heard it ... Wow! I got on the bed and just sat there listening and enjoying it totally.

Scott's guitar was something he'd made himself, although he pretended he didn't and I don't know why. He called it a 'Gibson Preacher' like it was some sort of guitar you could just go out and buy, but I'd watched him build it and it was like a Frankenstein monster. It had a Gibson Les Paul body, with a Fender Telecaster neck, and the pickups and all the guts were taken from a Gibson SG. I'd made his pick guard for him, cutting a really thin slice of stainless into half a heart and I'd flanged it, just a little and it looked like a mirror after I'd buffed it. The whole thing had been stripped, the guitar body and the neck, and just stained and lacquered. I liked to play it sometimes, but I wasn't as good as Scott. Nobody was.

"Here..." He gave the guitar to me and I grinned.

"Hit that Screamer when I get there, okay?" I told him, because Scott kept all his pedals up on a little table mostly. I started playing 'Seven Nation Army' real slow at first and Scott was banging on his thighs for my imaginary drums, and when I got to the part where the song goes about 3 octaves higher and the guitar takes off, he hit it and I cranked the volume ... It was good!

"You're getting better," Scott told me. But that's an easy song, really easy, and it always cheered me up. "You wanna learn 'Ring of Fire'?"

"Huh?" I laughed. "What's that?"

"Johnny Cash. You'll like it," he promised. He went to the closet and found his old acoustic guitar and started tuning it up.

And so we just sat there, playing guitar for about half an hour before I stopped. It was hard on my fingertips because that Telecaster neck on the Preacher is kind of wide. Kyle had an Ibanez that fit my hand perfectly; it was more like the size of a ping-pong paddle and I could fly on that thing. Plus it had a whammy bar! Oh yeah ... Waaaaang! I loved it!

"I want a boyfriend," I told Scott. He was still strumming and singing something weird about some guy in El Paso, in between all our talking, I mean.

"So do I," he said with a grin.

"You had one before, right?"

"Yeah, sort of. Remember that guy, Darryl, came by a couple times?"

"Yeah, he was cute. You were doing it with him?" I'd never have guessed that guy was gay. He'd looked like ... Well, like a regular guy.

"Uh-huh," Scott shrugged. "Anyway, if all you want is sex..." He looked at me rather pointedly, since I was just his little sister. "Then that's a little different than finding a boyfriend, you know?"

"Mmmm ... Okay." I flushed a bit as I thought about having sex. "I want sex, I guess. I mean, I've only given three blow jobs in my whole life."

I giggled at the look on his face. He must have thought I'd only done it once, the night before with Steve.

"Maybe you're too young for this stuff, Ann." Scott frowned at me. "There's a lot of other stuff in life and..."

"How old were you?" I asked. "The first time, when you really got interested."

"Uh ... About the same, I guess, 14 or 15 probably," he admitted a little reluctantly. "I'm a guy though, its a little dif..."

"I'm a guy too, Scott!" I laughed. "I swear, I am ... I'm just ... I look like a girl, okay? But I'm not."

"Yeah, so you say." He didn't look too sure. "Well, if all you want is sex then, uh ... We can go to the highway."

"The highway?" I sat back a little. "Why?"

"Cause that's where the sex is." He looked at his watch. "If we go now, we can be back before midnight."

"I come back at midnight and Daddy's gonna kill me!"

"Nah. We'll say we're going to Beaverton. Steve will cover for us, don't worry."

"And we're going to get sex?" I stared at him.

"Yeah," Scott grinned and I think he was a little excited at the prospect himself. "As long as you don't mind sucking a stranger's cock."

"I don't mind!" I giggled nervously, feeling my heart thumping at the thought of sucking a stranger off.

"Uh-huh," Scott laughed at me. "I can't believe I'm doing this."

"You love me." I got up and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"Yeah. That's my point," he sighed. But my brother knew what I was going through. Scott, more than anyone else, understood my need to discover sex. It was like a fire and if I didn't feed it, then it would consume me. "Steve's gonna kill me," Scott muttered, mostly to himself.

The interstate was about 45 minutes north and then we drove another 20 minutes or so west, towards Seattle. We talked along the way about different stuff, mostly how hard it was trying to find a guy to be with. I knew how to tell if a boy liked me, I mean as a girl, but was it the same for gay guys? I didn't think so and Scott's experiences weren't very encouraging either. Maybe it was different in the cities, like Spokane or Seattle, or even down by Pullman where the big college was. Lots of fags down there, I bet! But around Squinosha and Beaverton and the middle-of-nowhere Washington? If you were gay, you were just passing through and probably in a big hurry!

Or else you went to the Rest Area, a simple wooden building with bathrooms, vending machines, and a big plastic map that said 'You Are Here' just in case you didn't know where exactly Middle-of-Nowhere was. There were some picnic tables and a place to walk your dog, and a parking lot for truckers to park and sleep. It was a full service Rest Area and I wasn't exactly sure how this was going to work, but Scott clued me.

Along the way, I dug through his little CD collection. Scott drove an old '71 Challenger, like Barry Newman drove into the bulldozers in Vanishing Point. My Daddy's a muscle car freak, just like we all his kids, and so naturally our familial opinion was that any car built after 1973 or so really sucked. Never mind the fact that my oldest brother hadn't even been born until 1980, Daddy drove a cherry '69 Camaro RS with a new LS7 Crate crammed under the hood. That car pretty much hauled ass, but the Challenger wasn't bad, even with the stock Mopar plant. Scott was kind of a purist and he'd restored it faithfully inside and out, which was seriously cool. Mark's girlfriend, Sherry, had a Challenger too, but hers was a Pro-Modified Sprint by the time my brothers had finished with it and while I loved Scott's ride, my heart belonged to Sherry's ... That car was just insane!

"What, no Village People?" I grinned at Scott.

We were flying down route 370 doing about 85 and it was fun and curvy. Every now and then we'd pass a sign with an arrow pointing left or right and it would say '25' on it ... I didn't know until I took Driver's Ed that the number meant you were supposed to slow down, my brothers always sped up it seemed. Or maybe outside just went by faster on curves, I don't know.

Scott grinned back. "Uh ... Nope. No Village People, sorry. But I got some Roy Clark in there."

"Who?" I found it and sort of squinted at the guy's face. "He looks like a pumpkin."

"Yeah," Scott agreed. "Play, uh, track number three, you'll like it."

So, we listened to some red neck pumpkin head singing 'I Never Picked Cotton' while we rushed through the sunset. It seemed pretty surreal, which matched my whole day up to that point perfectly! It was a quick ride once we got on the interstate though and soon enough I could see the Rest Area. We pulled into the parking lot and it must have been about eight o'clock or so, which meant we had a couple hours at least.

"Okay, um ... Here's how this place works. All the guys who live around here, in the small towns like Squinosha and Wilverness, know about the Rest Area. There's other places too, but this is like the quick fix, okay? So were not worried about the people just driving through to Grandma's house."

I giggled at that.

"There's a couple ways to play it. One way is to sort of hang out, mostly on the other side, because the truckers park over there and they're usually looking for something. They know about this place too. So you get a soda and a cigarette, sit on a picnic table and just hang out."

"What?" I laughed. "Sit on a picnic table drinking a Coke and some guy is gonna ask me to have sex?"

"Uh, not right away probably. If a guy's looking to hook up he'll walk around, stretch, relax, maybe say hi ... Ask how you're doing, where you're headed, that kind of thing. How you act, how you say it with your body, with your eyes ... That's more important than the words, you know? Body language."

"Okay." I didn't have a clue what he was talking about.

"The other thing is to go in the bathroom, the men's room over there, and go in the last stall, the one next to the wall." I nodded as Scott spoke slowly. "There's a glory hole in there and..."

"A what?"

"A glory hole. It's a hole in the wall, well ... The partition between the stalls. Anyway, you get in the one stall and wait until a guy goes into the other one. If he's looking for a blowjob, he'll stick his dick through the hole."

"Really?" That sounded kind of ... bizarre.

"Yeah, or he might ask you to stick yours through so he can blow you."

"But I don't have anything to blow," I sighed.

"Right so, uh ... Don't worry about it. Someone asks, just say no, you don't want one."

I thought about it for a second. "So I'm going in the bathroom?"

"Yeah, that's the best probably. You look like a guy, sort of, but more like a 12 year old, you know? So if you're sitting outside, even if somebody thinks you're a guy, he probably won't want anything to do with you. And if he does, then it'll be in his truck and then he's gonna know you're a girl and..." Scott made a face. "We don't need that, right?"

"Right," I agreed.

"Besides, the bathroom is safer."

"Safer?" I giggled. "What, I'm gonna get attacked by a bear or something?"

"No, stupid." Scott tugged me a little so I looked up at him. "There's some stuff you gotta worry about, okay? First thing is the cops. The highway patrol, they stop by when they're driving past. Just to see if anybody's stranded, or making sure nobody's breaking into the vending machine or something. But they know fags come here sometimes too and if they catch us, they're probably gonna give us a lot of shit about it. Especially since your just 14 and a girl."

"So ... Avoid the cops," I nodded. "What do I do if one comes in the bathroom?"

"If you're alone in there, just make like you're taking a dump. If you're sucking somebody's dick, then just cool it. Don't worry, I'm gonna keep an eye and if I see a cop coming, I'll let you know."

"Okay."

"The other thing is some guys just wanna beat up a fag, okay? You get two or three guys, probably drunk and pissed and looking for an excuse. You ask a guy if he wants a blowjob and he isn't queer, he's gonna be offended," Scott chuckled. "No doubt, so you don't ask first and you don't have anything to do with a guy if he's not alone. You don't go anyplace with the guy, you don't drink his beer, you don't tell him your name. This is a fucking Rest Area, okay, not a social club."

"Okay, okay," I sighed, thinking Scott was being sort of negative all of a sudden. Was this what life was like for a gay guy?

"You're just here to get your rocks off ... er ... Get your jollies, you know? You wanna suck some dick. If some guy starts getting pissed, you just run, got it? Run back here to the car, but I'll be close, like I said. You ain't gonna be alone."

"These, uh, guys that beat up fags..." I bit my lip a little. "Are there a lot of those guys?"

"Nah. But all it takes is one, you know? Lots of assholes in the world, Ann, so just be cool and everything's okay." He looked at me and smiled reassuringly, "You, uh ... Do you swallow?"

I laughed at that, it was so totally unexpected. "I guess, yeah. I like it," I nodded.

"Well, don't be swallowing, okay? Just suck a little and when they start cumming just spit it out and jerk the guy on the floor. You don't know where these guys have been."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm gonna suck their dicks, so what's the difference?"

"And don't let anybody fuck you! In the ass or wherever, just blow jobs!"

"Yeah, alright," I sort of bobbed my head.

And so I was introduced to the joy and wonder of gay glory hole sex! I was a little nervous walking into the men's room, but not too bad. We watched it for awhile and didn't see anyone coming or going for a few minutes, so that was my chance. I really didn't want to bump into someone going through the door, you know? There were only three or four cars there anyway, and a couple big semi-trailers on the other side.

Scott went in with me and it was just like he said. There were four stalls lined up against the cinderblock wall and the last one had a smooth hole in it, not like it was cut really, just punched through and smoothed out around the edges. It was big enough for a cock, that's for sure, and just about in the right spot that I could sit on the toilet and just lean over and forward a little. I grinned when I saw it and gave Scott a little wave as I closed and locked the stall door. He looked sort of worried, but I suppose that's only natural for a big brother. He promised he'd be waiting outside, sitting on the hood of his car and drinking a soda or something.

It's weird being in a boy's bathroom alone. The place was real quiet and I started getting a little nervous, well, I was already nervous! I just mean more nervous. I heard some people come in, using the urinals and leaving and it seemed like I sat in there a long time before somebody came in and sort of walked around a little, judging from his footsteps. Then the door next to mine opened with a little squeak and I felt my heart pounding! Somebody was next to me and I felt like hiding for some stupid reason. But that worked out okay, I think, because I didn't want the guy to look through the hole and see my face either!