Date: Sun, 24 Aug 2008 19:36:48 -0700 (PDT) From: Mark Arbour Subject: Chronicles of an Academic Predator- Chapter 5 CHRONICLES OF AN ACADEMIC PREDATOR Published First at : Before you read this story, there are a few things you should consider: 1. It contains graphic descriptions of sex between men. In some cases, these depictions may get kinky, and include borderline S&M. 2. It is set in the early 1960s, an era before the Civil Rights Act of 1964 when segregation and discrimination were the norm. African Americans were referred to as Negroes or Coloreds, although the "N" word was offensive then as it is now. I have retained the language of the era because it reminds me how far we have come on race relations. 3. Be aware that the effects of inflation have been profound. A good rule of thumb is to consider that $1 in 1962 is probably similar to $10 in 2008. So just add a zero at the end of any number. 4. Some authors are good enough to create a mood through their words. I need help, so I'll be posted recommended musical selections throughout the story. CHAPTER 5 April 21, 1962 Today is a day that even I will have a hard time fucking up. The weather is absolutely beautiful, 75 degrees with sunny skies. It was so nice that I decided to put the top down, my hair trying to move in the wind as the Pontiac barreled north. I regretted that decision a few miles back, when I got close to Newark and the nasty smell that is pervasive in North Jersey, but now that I was headed into New York City, it was pure heaven. Even after I emerged from the Holland Tunnel and got stuck in traffic, it didn't matter. I just leaned back and looked up at the skyscrapers towering over me. My father had told me, last time I talked with him, that he and Jim planned to expand into building these monsters. Better them than me. I'd had an uneventful month since my return from Claremont. Andre had scored with Vivian, and I tried to be happy for him and not get too jealous, but that hadn't stopped him since we'd gotten back. It seems like every night of the week he was dragging me out to dance and drink. That was just as well, since I seem to have sworn off sex myself. I stopped going to my favorite bathroom, although sometimes resisting the temptation took some Herculean self-control. I'm not sure if it's because I was afraid of being arrested like Peter, or that the cop might, through some weird fluke, recognize me. I'd been daring and risky enough. It was time to get out of Princeton with my record intact. Not surprisingly, I hadn't heard from Peter. Maybe that was part of the reason that I dodged that place, the memories of him. How was it that someone that I barely knew could have such a lingering effect on me? Musical Recommendation: "Every Day of the Week" by The Students So when Billy Schluter sent me a letter suggesting that we meet up in New York and go out on the town for a night, it seemed like the perfect break in my routine. Billy's stationed up in Groton, so it's a short ride for him. I got the feeling that he needed a break too. Having a wife and two kids and living the navy life must get old from time to time. I pulled up to the Waldorf, finding myself swarmed by valets and bellmen. They were disappointed to find that all I had was a shoulder bag, but I flipped them two bits to park my car. Within 15 minutes I had been whisked up to my room, small but nice, with two double beds. I kicked back on the bed, closed my eyes, and reveled in the solitude. From what seemed like miles away I heard a banging noise, only slowly did I realize that I was asleep, and it took me even more time to rouse myself enough to get up and answer the door. I opened the door and it flew open, a strawberry blond hurricane hugged me and threw me on the bed, landing on top of me, knocking what air was in my lungs right out of my body. "JP!!! Great to see you!" Billy was always full of life. "Hey Billy, great to see you too. Now will you get the fuck off of me so I can breathe?" I was waking up, and my mood was improving fast. "You used to like it when I jumped your bones," he said in a seductive tone. "Yeah, but that was only when I was really drunk." We both laughed at that. He dropped off his stuff and we hit the town. It was one of those days where we didn't really have any plans so we just wandered around the city, stopping if something interested us, but mostly walking and talking, something we really hadn't been able to do for quite a while. He was expecting his promotion to Lieutenant this fall, and hopefully a posting to one of the navy's new nuclear submarines. I found it odd that he picked the silent service, but hearing Billy talk about attack submarines, about being the hunter and not the prey, and I realized he'd found his niche. He has two children with one more on the way. The two kids are about the same ages as Jim's kids, but this third child was not expected. I got the feeling that he blamed his wife, even though he knew how unfair that was. We went back to the hotel, showered, changed, and went out for a nice dinner. Neither one of us was in the mood for clubs, so we just went to the bar at the hotel and drank and drank and drank and drank. We laughed so much we got some pretty dirty looks from the other people there, but we really didn't give a fuck. Somewhat abruptly Billy's mood changed, and he got somber. "JP, I need to tell you something." "Sure Billy. You can tell me anything." Like he didn't already know this. "No really, you can't tell anyone. Between you and me. Promise." He'd never been this earnest about a secret. "Billy, you know you can trust me. What's bugging you?" "JP, I'm not sure if this kid is mine." His eyes started to tear up, and all I could do was stare at him. Shocked...that would be an understatement. "What makes you think that?" My brain was fried, so I went back to basics: demand data. "We went to see the doctor and he said she's four months pregnant. I was at sea until the end of February." He looked totally dejected. "Look Billy, you know Janice loves you. Maybe the doctor is wrong. Maybe he got the time wrong. The truth will come out in a few months, so to speak." I couldn't stand to see him in so much pain. "Maybe you're right JP. There were some rumors about her and one of the Lt. Commanders on the base. And now this. Plus she's been super nice to me; I mean more than normal, almost like she's feeling guilty." He had his head in his hands. "Billy, you're just wracking yourself apart. The truth of the matter is that you don't know for sure. But you've been married for four years now, and they've been good years right?" He nodded. "So don't you think you should give her the benefit of the doubt?" He looked up at me. I could almost see the wheels in his brain working. "I guess I should." He smiled at me. "Thanks for coming up here JP. I really needed to talk to talk to you about this. I knew you'd make me feel better." I reached my arm around his shoulders and squeezed him in a semi-hug. "I'm fucked up JP. I think I need to pass out." He was slurring his words now. "Me too. Let's go to bed." With that I helped him up and we staggered to the elevators, down the hall, and into the room. I headed to the bathroom, throwing my clothes off on the way until all I had left on was my boxers. I started pissing and thought I'd never stop, I just kept going and going, which made me laugh. I staggered out of the bathroom, still giggling. "What are you laughing at?" Billy was starting to giggle just because I was. "I just peed forever." He really cracked up then. "I gotta go too. Help me up will you?" I tried to pull him up off the bed, but I was laughing too hard and he fell back. "Here, let's get your shoes off." I pulled off his shoes, and his socks for some reason. Then I pulled him up so he was sitting and unbuttoned his shirt, pulling that off, as well as his t-shirt. "Thanks for taking care of me JP." "No problem Billy." I pushed him back down on the bed which made him laugh again and started to unbuckle his belt. The mood suddenly changed, the atmosphere suddenly charged with sexual tension. I unbuttoned the top button of his pants, but did it slowly on purpose. Then I grabbed his zipper and pushed it down, making sure I put pressure on it so that I rubbed against his dick. Once it was down I pulled open his pants, "accidentally" brushing the back of my hand over the front of his underwear and his inflating cock. He lifted his hips up so I could pull them off, which left him spread-eagled on the bed in just his boxers. "JP, remember how we used to fool around when we were kids?" I lay down next to him, my eyes level with his chest. "Yeah", I said, as I noticed that his nipples had gotten bigger, the size of quarters, and that he had a good amount of hair on his chest. "That was a lot of fun," he said wistfully. "I thought so too," I responded. I put my hand on his stomach and gently stroked his abdomen. "Know something JP?" I looked up at him. "No, what?" "No one's ever sucked my dick as good as you." I looked down and he was tenting out his boxers. I moved my hand down and grabbed his cock, not roughly, but purposefully. He moaned. "Maybe I need to remind you how good," I said to him, sounding really slutty. "Maybe you do," he replied with a leer. I moved my mouth on to his nipple, just for a second, because I knew that wasn't his hot spot. Billy was one of those guys who didn't have a special "spot", or it might be more accurate to say that his "spot" was his dick. I could suck his balls, and he's think that was nice, and I could tweak his nipples, and he'd put up with it, but all he really wanted was my mouth on his dick. I obliged eagerly. We'd done this often when we were younger, but it had been a long time, probably since right before he was married. Time had not marred my memory. I knew every inch of his five inch shaft, knew all the veins that stuck out on the side, knew to watch my teeth because of his wide dimension. He liked me to take my time, and to run my tongue around the head of his penis, then every two or three strokes he liked me to go all the way down on him so he could feel the back of my throat. I knew exactly what he liked and I did it. He lay on the bed moaning and thrusting his hips into my face. I kept my left hand wrapped gently around his balls, not because he liked it, but because that way I could gage if he was close to cumming and back off. It had been four years since I'd gotten to do this. I was going to make it last this time. I tortured him, getting him to the edge and backing off, even as he tried to thrust back into my mouth. Finally, I could make him wait no longer, and I dived down on his cock. He took his two hands and grabbed my face, pulling me onto his dick and ramming it down my throat. Normally this would really piss me off, but for Billy it was no problem. Besides, his cock was kind of short so it didn't choke me or anything. Then he started shooting. And shooting. And shooting. God, when was the last time he came? No way I could swallow it all, and cum came dribbling out of my mouth onto his pubes. Finally he finished and lay back, totally satisfied. "JP, thanks. That was amazing. You are the best. Fuck! I don't think I can breathe." "Glad to be of service," I said as I smiled down at him, oblivious to my own hard cock poking through my boxers. "I want to watch you jack off." He turned on his side and just looked at me. Billy was something of a voyeur, which was fine with me, horny as I was. I stripped completely down, lay on my back, and started stroking my cock. I reached down and scooped some of the cum from his pubes and used it as lube, which made his eyes bulge. He watched me as I stroked, his eyes level with my cock. I felt his fingers run up my thighs and stroke my balls, the contact was so stimulating I had to slow down so I didn't blow right then. He stroked below my balls, hitting my perineum, and I willingly spread my legs to give him better access. I learned that that was one of my hot spots. I lifted my legs up to give him access to my ass, hoping he'd play with my hole. I'd always wondered what that would be like. Fortunately, he showed me, and I found my other hot spot. As he stroked my ass my moans became almost uncontrollable. I felt his finger push at the entry to my hole, and I pushed back into it. Slowly, and with a little pain, I felt his finger slide up my ass. I could take no more. My dick erupted violently; not only did I shoot a lot, I shot far. I hit myself in the face twice. Damn. We both laid there for a few minutes, then I got up, grabbed a towel to clean us both up, and tucked him into his bed. The next morning we were two hurting puppies, popping aspirin and ordering room service for breakfast. We stayed in the room until checkout time, dozing in and out of sleep and waking up long enough to bitch about how miserable we were. Just as we were leaving the room, Billy turned around and pulled me into a hug, a long, lingering hug. As we pulled apart, he leaned down and kissed me on the cheek. "JP, you're the best. Thanks for everything." I smiled at him, and then both of us went our own way. May 24, 1962 Musical Recommendation: "Please Mr. Postman", by the Marvelettes Two months of uncertainty, two months of waiting, two months of planning my day around the mail, making sure I would be there when it got there. Two months, four applications, no responses. I stared out the window, my eyes glued to the mailbox. With a nervousness I only displayed when I was alone, I grabbed the paper. Apparently Scott Carpenter was up in space, orbiting around the earth in Aurora 7. An exciting time to be sure. I wonder if Scott Carpenter can see my mailman from space? I hated job-hunting. I hated the uncertainty. I felt vulnerable and out of control. Normally I'd ease my tension by cruising for some action, but I was still avoiding my bathroom. We had to be out of our apartment by June 1, so I only had one more week of self-control. I would make it, but I wouldn't like it. A car drove by, and interrupted my reverie. Still no mailman. Here it is the end of May and it's already hot in central New Jersey. I got up and turned on the fan, doing an internal mental calculation as to whether the effort/energy/heat expended to get up and turn it on would be offset by its feeble wind gusts. Probably not. Back to staring at the mail box. I started daydreaming about Billy, and Peter, and Andre. How different they were to me. Peter, the ultimate lover, the guy who introduced me to fucking, the guy who premiered in my jack-off fantasies. The guy who made me laugh, the sexy rogue that was now off in California, hopefully conserving what money I'd given him. Peter was a friend, but not in the same way as Andre or Billy. Andre, so unobtainable, so perfect, my best friend in the whole world, the one person who's love I craved the most. He gave me everything he could, and I felt selfish for feeling that it wasn't enough. And then there was Billy, more like a brother, although that would make messing around with him incest, which grossed me out. But messing around with Billy was like two friends doing each other a favor, kind of like rubbing someone's shoulders. These internal ponderings had so distracted me that I didn't even see the mailman walk up to the box. It was only when he slammed the lid shut that I broke from my daze and rushed out to see if today was the day. I grabbed what few letters were there and found what I'd been waiting for. Today was jackpot day. There were two letters addressed to Dr. John Paul Crampton. I took them into the living room and sat them on the table, staring at them, afraid to open them, yet wanting to. I picked up the first, from UC Berkeley. Dear Dr. Crampton, We are pleased to offer you a post-doctoral research position beginning on September 1, 1962 and lasting until the end of Spring Semester, 1963..... I expected that one. Getting another Post-Doc was sort of a fall-back position. I could either continue here, or head to Berkeley for a change of pace, but neither would be a permanent home. I'd still be a glorified temp worker. The next one was from Brown University. This one was a long shot, but if I got it, I'd be able to stay on the east coast, which I had grown to love, and I'd be close to Billy, even though I didn't see him very often. Dear Dr. Crampton, We are honored by your interest in joining our faculty, but while your credentials are impressive, we regret that we are unable to offer you a faculty position at this time...... Well, that was expected. I was alone in the apartment so I allowed myself to lounge on the couch and wallow in self pity. I'd have to cheer up in a few hours when Andre got home, but meanwhile, I grabbed a beer and tried to convince myself that Brown had made a huge mistake, and that years from now when I won a Nobel Prize or something there would be a hand-wringing meeting where everyone would try to figure out how a gem like me escaped them. Hey, at least I can dream. May 31, 1962 Packing sucks. Well, it sucks when you have nowhere to go. That's not entirely true either. My destination is Claremont. I tried to enthuse myself about going home, how nice it would be to have my parents around, and to have air conditioning. I could spend the summer riding, swimming, writing, and researching. It would be great. Who was I kidding? The thought made me miserable. I'd never been in limbo in my entire life, but now I am. I threw some more stuff in a box, probably useless things I should just throw away, but that would require more thought than just packing it. I stubbed my toe on my dresser and let out a string of oaths. Fuck that hurt. I'd gotten one more letter two days ago, a response from Ohio State. They told me that they were interested in talking to me further, so they wanted me to come in for an additional interview. That meant they were stalling, and the only reason for that was that they'd said no but someone was pulling some strings. Political strings. That would be my father, I love my dad, he's a good guy, but I really wanted to do this on my own. It depressed me to think that I wasn't good enough to get a job on my own. Maybe all my successes were mere fiction? Maybe I was just the lucky scion of a wealthy family that had promoted me through the ranks, just like they used to do with young noblemen in Europe. Back in those days, no need to suffer the indignities of being a lieutenant, simply buy your own regiment and be a colonel. I threw more useless shit in the box. Maybe my parents could buy me my own university. I heard Andre come bursting into the apartment. He, of course, was in a great mood. He was off for basic training or whatever variation of that they use for officers. 2nd Lieutenant Andre Clerreault, joining the military and honoring the terms of his ROTC contract. He was confident that he'd be sent to Europe, hopefully France, even though DeGaulle was agitating about removing French forces from NATO. I heard his footsteps and then there he was, handsome as ever, leaning against my door frame with an idiotic grin on his face. I wanted to say "what the fuck are you so happy about?", and that's what he was waiting for. That I didn't do it gave me my first satisfaction of the day. "Guess what I have behind my back?" he taunted. "Your big ass," I countered, thinking I was such a wit. "Very funny. I have the mail." I felt myself reacting and jumping forward, trying to grab it from behind his back. I couldn't even pretend to be calm and unflustered. He held one letter over his head. "Looks like this one came from Northwestern. Wonder what it is?" By now I was frantic. "Come on asshole. Give it to me." "You sure you don't want me to read it to you? Open it for you?" He pushed me right to the edge, where I was about to punch him in the stomach and grab it, when he feigned a bow and handed it to me. I stood there, looking at the envelope. This was it. My destiny was inside. All I had to do was open it. My hands were shaking. I was paralyzed.