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Discovering Reg

Chapter 2

By Wayne Telfer

Down we went, and I felt renewed. Not only had Marcia washed and repaired my clothes, but she had nicely pressed them so that I didn't feel under dressed. Well, not too much anyway. I mean, here I was in this mansion; marble, fine wood banisters, luxurious rooms, elegant parents in finely tailored garments. Me, I was in my J.C. Penney trousers and button shirt.

I wasn't a jeans and t-shirt kind of guy, like some of my former friends. I never had been. I preferred nice clothes. Hell, give me even a hint that I'd have to wear my suit and I was all over that. I mean, I knew I was handsome. Maybe not gorgeous or cute, but I was a well put together specimen of the male human. And I enjoyed wearing clothes that displayed me well. Jeans and t-shirts detracted from that, I felt.

"I'm glad to see someone found your glasses in the car and cleaned them up," I said, noticing that he had finally donned them.

"Oh, these are one of my extra sets."

"Gods, Reg, I feel a bit under dressed."

"Crap!" he responded.

That really shocked me. I'd never imagined that he knew how to swear. It seemed so incongruous with the image I had of him. But then, my image of him up until four hours ago had been one of a mousy, studious, over achiever. An image that I now knew was incomplete and based on outward appearances.

That set me back a moment. It seemed that I was as capable of judging on incomplete information as the bigots that harassed me. That was sobering, and disconcerting. I'd thought myself above all that. I'd have to think about that later. No time now.

"Mother and father aren't going to embarrass you by getting all turned out, Wayne. They are very sensitive to people's egos." He got quiet for moment, his hand on the door handle. "Hmmm. I guess I should warn you that I've mentioned to my parents that I thought I was gay."

"Gees, Reg, how'd they react?"

"Supportive, surprisingly. They've always supported me, but they surprised me when I told them."

"When was that?"

"When I turned fourteen. We've always been open. I could always go to them with any problem. Still, I hadn't expected them to accept it. In typical Finger fashion, my father had gone quiet, thought about it a moment and simply asked me, 'are you certain?'. And I'd been honest with him and told him that I was as certain as I could be for someone who was a virgin."

"Jesus, Reg. Do you plan to tell them about us?" This definitely had me worried.

"I won't have to. Mother and father are the two most perceptive people I know. They can judge a person's character within five minutes of first meeting them, and be right ninety-five percent of the time." He looked up at me. "Do you feel any different now than you did when we first arrived home?"

"Christ, Reg, that's a stupid question. I feel like I'm on top of the world."

"Uh huh, me too." Then he just stood there and waited for me to make the connection. And I did.

"Oh, hell. No way are we going to be able to really hide how we feel, is there?"

"They'll know the minute we walk into the room, I guarantee it. I don't think they'll say anything right away, though. They'll watch us for a while. But it will come up eventually."

"What should we do when it does?"

"Wayne, all we can do is be honest. They'll respect that more than prevarication. As for how they'll handle it, I can't be sure. I'm not nearly as good at reading people. If I were, I'd have had you in my bed when you first started sitting next to me in classes."

I thought for moment. "Still, discretion should be the order of the day, don't you think? I mean, we don't have to rub their noses in it."

His smile was electric. "Absolutely." He didn't move immediately, however. "Of course, there is one thing that might offset our immediate discovery."

"And what might that be?"

"They might chalk it all up to the fact that you're my first real friend." He'd said it in almost a whisper, seeming embarrassed by the admission.

"You're exaggerating."

He looked at me and shook his head, and I could see moisture in his eyes.

I reached over and picked up one of the hand towels we'd left on the table. I stepped up to him and began to gently dry his eyes.

"Their loss, then." His eyes once again dry I asked, "Didn't anyone ever come over?"

"Oh, several kids have come over through the years, but they were all more interested in my things than in me." He paused. "There's going to be lot I show you that only comes with lots of money, Wayne."

Ah, the fear of rejection was still there, despite what we'd shared that afternoon.

"Won't matter. I don't care if you have three Ferraris in the garage, a first edition of the Guttenburg Bible or every toy ever created." I caressed his cheek. "You are the reason I'm here. The only reason."

His smile returned.

"Now, let's get going. Don't want to be late for the Wellington, now do we?"

Was I nervous as we headed for the parlor? Damn straight. The idea that there was even the remotest possibility of losing Reg scared me no end. Still, Reg seemed relaxed, so I tried to still my beating heart as we descended the stairs and headed for the parlor.

When we entered, his parents were already seated.

"Good evening, boys," said his father.

"Good evening father, mother."

"Good evening, mister and missus Finger." I had to pause at that moment to admire the elegant room we'd just entered. I was beautifully appointed with furniture that appeared antique to me and lots of feminine frills.

"Hmmm. This must the mistress' room," I remarked boldly.

Mister Finger simply smiled, while missus Finger clapped her hands and giggled in the most girlish fashion.

"Oh do come sit beside me, you perceptive young man."

I took the wing back chair next to Reg's mom.

"And what gave it away?" she asked, obviously fishing for a compliment.

"Well, somehow it just seems out of character for Reg's father to be comfortable being constantly surrounded by lace, delicate flowers and Louis the Fifteen furniture."

"Louis the Fourteenth, actually," laughed mister Finger. "And you'd be right. How did you decide it was Louis the Fifteenth?"

"I didn't have a clue. I took a stab in the dark, trying to be cute," I laughed in return.

"Do you enjoy tea, Wayne?" asked missus Finger, holding the porcelain pot over an empty cup and saucer.

"I've never had tea, but I'd love to try some."

She poured, dropped in one sugar cube, stirred it, then handed me the delicate cup and saucer.

I placed thumb and forefinger on the handle and purposely exaggerated sticking my pinky out. "Pinky out is the correct posture, isn't it?"

They laughed. And it wasn't a polite, tolerant laugh. They laughed as if they really were enjoying my humor.

"So, Wayne, would you be willing to tell us a bit about yourself?" asked missus Finger.

"Well, I'm sixteen, with red hair, green eyes...oh wait, you know that already." I went on to explain that my mother was a seamstress that worked out of our home and mentioned what my father did. I described my two younger brothers in some detail, since it just so happened that I loved them very much. Without getting into any detail, I explained that my father and I had issues with one another and that had created quite a bit of tension in the house. I described our modest living conditions and the fact that we lived comfortably.

Just about that time, one of the staff arrived to inform us that supper was ready for service. We rose and Reg's mother looped her arm in mine once again and gently guided me.

"So, Wayne, I imagine that all of this opulence has been a bit of a culture shock for you," she remarked.

I smiled. "I believe that would be categorized as one of the great understatements of the year."

She laughed, then continued. "I hope you're not so uncomfortable that you won't visit. Regi doesn't bring many visitors."

I stiffened slightly, in anger. "So Reg has told me. And it's a crying shame. Please, mister and missus Finger, I am here because Reg is my friend, not because he is well healed."

She hugged my arm tightly in thanks.

I was saved from having to pursue that subject any further by our entry into yet another magnificent room. The dining room could have come from a Hollywood movie set. Chandeliers, dark woods, long, sweeping table with at least twenty high back, upholstered chairs. Oh yes, and another stunned expression from me.

One of the female staff replaced missus Finger as my guide and led me to a chair beside Reg. Mister Finger got the obvious place as head of house, missus Finger to his right, and Reg and I to his left. I looked around and saw that they'd pulled out all the stops, despite our casual dress. Fine china graced the table, with obviously high quality silver service. There were more utensils at each place setting than I'd ever seen, as well as four glasses.

I grew concerned. My table etiquette was fine for the middle class restaurants I was used to. But I knew it was not up to the standards expected here.

Reg obviously sensed my unease and simply reached over, under the table, and squeezed my knee. Yes, that's right, if I watched carefully, I could probably do a tolerable job. So long as no one waited for me to make the first move.

And they didn't. Reg helped from time to time by simply pointing to the required implement that would be needed for the next course, usually before it reached the table. Evidently, supper was well choreographed enough that the progression was logical.

The meal was really very enjoyable, mainly because conversation was casual and everyone made a point of including me. There was as much laughter as there was serious discussion.

There had been five courses to the meal. None of them had been huge, just enough to be able to truly enjoy the course without becoming full from it. But after five of them, I was beginning to hope that it'd soon be over, or they'd have to wheel me to the front door on a hand truck.

I needn't have worried. Francios, himself, arrived with the dessert course; something served in silver bowls that were covered by lids with a delicate silver filigree.

"Francios, that was delicious," said missus Finger.

"Thank you, Lady Penelope, I'm please you enjoyed it." Then he looked straight at me.

"Francios, it was delicious. But tell me, is there a bouncer or body guard around someplace that will be able to carry me to my car later?"

That got a hearty laugh from everyone.

"Seriously, Francios, this has been a true culinary experience for me. But I have to know, did you put in a bit of extra effort on my behalf?"

It was charming. He actually blushed slightly.

"Well, perhaps just a bit." He laughed lightly.

"Thank you, Francios, I appreciate it. But now, can you please tell me what you did to that cauliflower? It's never been anything but bland to me, but yours was stimulating."

He beamed, if you can believe it, as if my opinion was the most important one in the world. Then he placed a finger lightly beside his nose, "Trade secret". I laughed. "And now," he continued, "A little something to warm the cockles of your hearts."

I nearly choked at his choice of phrases.

He nodded and the two servers lifted the lids with a flourish. Missus Finger clapped like a girl with a new doll.

"Bananas Foster!"

Francios went around the table and lit each bowl with a long match, starting with Reg's mother. When he finally got to me, however, he paused.

"I have been asked by the entire staff to express our appreciation for you defending mister Regi this afternoon, mister Wayne."

I blushed a bit in embarrassment. They were all making such a fuss about it. But one had to be gracious. "You're welcome." He then lit my bowl, allowed it to burn for a minute or so and then set the lid back in place to extinguish the flames. He then lifted the lid and departed.

After a couple of bites, mister Finger addressed my embarrassment.

"Wayne, we really don't mean to embarrass you, but what you did today for our son is very much appreciated, by everyone. I know that you feel we are making too much of it. You may not think much of what you did, but we certainly do. Now, having said that, I would really like to know how you handled fours boys by yourself."

I swallowed my last bite then looked him right in the eye. "Karate, third degree black belt, and army hand to hand combat."

Eyebrows reached hairlines and eyes got as big as quarters all around the table. Everyone went back to their desserts, in a few moments, without another word.

We retired back to the parlor where a staff member arrived with a tray of wine glasses. The two larger ones were presented to the adults, and two smaller ones were presented to Reg and me. Well, I raised my eyebrows at this.

"Wayne," said mister Finger, "It is a family tradition that we share a glass of wine after supper. It is only meant to cap a fine meal." We then took a small sip and sat back into our seats. Reg's parents had taken the two wing back chairs and left the settee for Reg and me.

Everyone was silent and I could sense that there was a tension rising.

"Wayne," said mister Finger, "I'm going to ask you a very personal question. I don't want you to feel pressured, and you can decline to answer if you wish."

Did he have my attention? I'd say. I suddenly felt like the mouse caught in the lion's gaze. All I could do was nod.

He took a deep breath and leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. "Wayne, is the tension between you and your father due to the fact that you are homosexual?"

I didn't look anywhere but in his eyes, but I swear I could hear as if Reg had spoken in my ear; "Told you so."

I didn't look away, but I did answer very softly. "Yes, sir."

He smiled every so slightly and nodded, as if in approval of my honesty, then grew serious again. "And have you and Regi become...'acquainted'?"

I felt as if I'd eaten a bale of cotton. "Yes, sir."

"One final question. Is this going to be just a fling for you?"

I felt as if he'd slapped me in the face and I answered immediately and forcefully, jumping to my feet to stand over him.

"No, sir! I'm not that kind of person!" I was trembling in anger, the wine glass held tightly in my fist, the wine sloshing dangerously close to the rim.

He placed his wine on the table and slowly stood. I was confused. He didn't look the least bit angry. I couldn't detect any disappoint in his gaze. He slowly pried the wine glass from my hand and reached back to hand it to Reg. Then he stepped so close that we were nearly nose to nose. And he smiled.

"Then welcome to the family, Wayne." He pulled me into an embrace and I nearly fainted.

It took me a moment, but I finally lifted my arms and returned the hug. I looked over at Reg and I could see that he was as shocked as I was by how his father had handled this.

Next thing I know, Reg's mother is hugging me. "Welcome, Wayne."

Well, I was in tears by this time. Not a lot, but I had to express my relief somehow, and fainting would have been just a bit over the top. I looked over and saw that the hug between father and son was, in fact, quite intense.

We began returning to our seats.

"I won't apologize for the way I approached this, Wayne," said mister Finger. "I believed I had to shock you into giving me an honest answer." He held his hand up to stop me as I opened my mouth. "I also do not expect you to apologize for the way you responded. The intensity and immediacy of your response was all the proof I needed." He looked from one to the other of us. "I have to wonder, though, how deep your feelings for each other go."

"I love him," we answered simultaneously.

"That bad, huh?" He chuckled. "Well, boys, we are not going to interfere. You are both sixteen, intelligent, and, we believe, well able to make your own choices. So if this is truly the direction your lives are headed, then we will support you in any way we can."

I sat there and silently cried, tears streaming down my face. I was so overwhelmed by the support of these magnificent people whom I'd known less than twelve hours; it was too much. All I'd gotten at home for the past six months was shame and ridicule and here are these two angels who knew little or nothing about me and they accepted me for who I was, totally, without hesitation.

It must have taken me five minutes to calm down. All the while, Reg held me close, our roles as comforter and comforted reversed.

"Sorry," I smiled. "It's just a bit overwhelming. Revealing that I'm homosexual has never been received like that." I looked from one to the other of them. "But..."

Silence descended. Reg finally poked me in the ribs. "Go on. Remember what I told you about them?"

I looked over at him and smiled.

"You're family, Wayne," he continued. "They said so."

Yes they had. Still, it was an adjustment to my thinking that was not easy. "Why?"

I was surprised when Reg's mother responded instead of his father. But that gave me a bit of insight into their relationship. They were partners in every sense. When missus Finger stepped into the background it was because she chose to, not because she was being relegated to that position. These two remarkable people were equals.

"That's a pretty general query, Wayne. I'm afraid you're going to have to be just a bit more specific. Why, what?"

", how, can you be so accepting of what is happening between Reg and me? You just met me."

She smiled warmly at her husband before answering.

"Wayne, Arthur and I have made an art form out of reading peoples' characters. We've accomplished all this," she said, sweeping the room with her gaze, "by being able to understand a person's motivations and character better than they understand themselves. We've used that ability ruthlessly to stay one step ahead of the competition and rivals. But we also use it to help those whose motivations are sincere and honest."

Mister Finger stepped in so smoothly, you'd have thought they were telepathically linked. "For instance, you think we don't know you. You're wrong." He paused and smiled. "Wayne Edwards; intelligent, with the ability to carefully analyze a situation and respond in a way that will benefit not only himself, but those around him. Yet, he's able to be quickly decisive when the situation demands an instant response. Wayne is sensitive to the feelings of those around him, especially his friends and family. There isn't anything he wouldn't sacrifice on their behalf to ensure their happiness. He has wisdom beyond his years, and yet he is still a young man struggling to understand himself and his place in the world."

Missus Finger insinuated herself in. "You are a peace maker, Wayne. There is nothing you deplore more than violence and conflict. And yet, you understand that you can not allow others to impose their will on you. You know that there is a time to fight back and say no, I will not be forced or coerced. You are generous to a fault. You are a champion for those who do not have the ability to champion themselves. Not for your personal gain, but simply because it is the right thing to do."

"If I may use a poetic analogy," said mister Finger, "you are the supple willow, that when buffeted by winds, does not break, but simply bends and springs back, simply stronger for the experience." He smiled. "And it doesn't take a rocket scientist to see that you are gracious to everyone, regardless of their apparent station. You are also, if you'll pardon me for being blunt, surprisingly sophisticated for someone who was not raised in privilege."

This time his words were spoken. "Told you so," said Reg.

"I knew by the way you greeted me on the front steps that you were going to be a delight," said missus Finger.

"Your Scarlett O'Hare was perfect," I laughed, "Because when I first saw this place I thought, 'A modern Tara'. I half expected to see Scarlett come racing down the stair, Rhett Butler riding in and sweeping her up into the saddle and riding off into the southern sky. It's one of my favorite films. A bit long winded for the theater seats, but still my favorite."

"Well, we'll just have to take you down to our private theater some day and sit and watch it. The chairs are all overstuffed loungers." She smiled, winningly.

"Why am I not surprised you have something like that in this marvelous home." Then a thought struck me, since they were being so wonderful. I turned to Reg. "Could I stay the night?"

"Nope. You can spend the weekend. I've already ordered Carter to hide your car keys and the staff are locking all the doors and windows as we speak."

We all laughed. When I glanced at his parents they were nodding their approval.

"Shouldn't you phone your parents, Wayne?" asked mister Finger.

"No, sir. I usually stay away from home on the weekends. It helps to relieve the tension if I'm not around for a few days."

"Where do you stay?" asked missus Finger. "I thought you said you didn't have any close friends."

"Sometimes I stay at a cheap motel," I said, embarrassed. "In good weather, I just sleep in my car."

I saw the moisture in her eyes.

"It's not so bad, really. The motel manager is a very nice gay man and he knows my home situation, so he gives me a bargain rate."

"Would I be wrong in assuming there's a story in that somewhere?" asked mister Finger.

"There is," I said. Then I yawned.

"But not tonight I think," said missus Finger as she stood up. "It's been a long, exhausting day...for all of us. Why don't we put this discussion on hold for now and get a good night's sleep."

Mister Finger got this wicked twinkle in his eyes as he stood. "You do plan to get to sleep sometime, don't you boys?"

Reg stepped over and mock hit his father in the chest. "I suppose now I can expect to get teased and embarrassed?"

"Well, of course, son. It's in the parenting handbook, under 'Child's First Love'. Didn't you know?"

We laughed.

There were hugs all around, with full-on kisses for Reg and one on my cheek from his mother.

When we got back to Reg's room, he turned to me. "Well, that went well."

"Speak for yourself, you weren't the one under interrogation."

Reg stepped up and hugged me gently. "Was it really that bad?" he asked softly.

I returned the hug, with interest. "No, not really. I'm just glad you warned me, though, or I might have responded stupidly."

"You did great, Wayne, really. I was proud of you."

I yawned again.

Reg stepped back. "You really are tired, aren't you?"

"I'm sorry, Reg, but yes I am. It's been an emotionally charged day for me and that always wrings me out. Will you be disappointed if we just went to bed and slept?"

"Not if you're beside me," he purred.

We undressed, folded our clothes and placed them on the table and then crawled under the sheet and blanket, completely naked.

We embraced. Then I rolled onto my back and Reg rested his head on my chest.

"I love you, Wayne."

"I love you too, Reg."

And that's the last thing I remembered...

...shit! Was I peeing the bed? But then my mind engaged and I remembered where I was and who I was with. Then I chuckled.

The warm sensations of his mouth sliding up and down my morning hard on was delicious. I wiggled my butt to let him know I was awake.

He lifted himself up. "Morning, green eyes. You like?"

"Morning, lover. That feels incredible. I've never been awakened like that before."


"I'll explain later. I think I'm feeling sleep overtake me again." I gave him a fake yawn.

He smiled and resumed his morning ministrations. And they were incredible. His hands never stopped moving. My nipples, my nuts, the base of my cock. And his mouth kept exchanging my cock for my nuts and back again.

Gees, was I being incredibly uncritical, or was he really doing a bang up job?

He had me moaning, groaning and writhing in no time, especially when he discovered how sensitive I was in the crease between my thigh and scrotum.

The tingling didn't start slowly. I rushed from a whisper to a torrent in a matter of milliseconds. His only warning was...

"Ah...urg...oh no!"

He swallowed three quarters of my cock and wrapped his hand around the remainder and applied such a suction that it felt like my asshole was being drawn up through my cock.

It was another stupendous, board stiff cum. "Uh...uh...uh...uh! Shit...fuck...oh god damn!"

And he took it all, every single drop. When I was able to think clearly, I was impressed. Only his second time and he'd taken all that I had without gagging once. He spent a few moments milking the last few drops, licking the beads from my slit.

"Hmmmm, tasty."

I laughed. Had he really said that? I laughed harder.

"Oh, not fair. I can't breath already and you make me laugh?" I gasped.

He waited patiently while I recovered.

Finally, "Did I...?"

"Oh, Reg, that was incredible. You did that better than guys that have been doing it all their lives."

"It wasn't hard, excuse the pun, once I started paying attention to your reactions."

"Yeh, but Reg, I'm serious. I've been with men that have decades of experience that should be taking lessons from you. Now what?"

"Could you..." he looked down our bodies at his pulsing cock.

"Your command is my wish, oh lord of my heart."

And before he could move, I reached down and grabbed his ass and pulled him up toward my head. "Put your hands on the headboard." He hadn't expected this, but once he realized what I intended he rushed to position himself perfectly, his cock a fraction of an inch from my mouth. I held his hips firmly so that he couldn't move to help and then looked up and saw that he was watching my every move.

"You ready?" I whispered.

He simply nodded, the excitement of what was about to happen robbing him of speech. His very first blow job.

I snaked out my tongue and gently licked off the copious amount of precum and then lifted his cock out of the way with my nose so that I could worship his orbs, first licking and then sucking them into my mouth, one at a time. I glanced up and saw that he had his eyes closed and his mouth open in astonishment. He was actually drooling slightly. It was a truly delicious site. But I knew he probably wouldn't last all that long, so I abandoned his balls and very, very slowly slid his cock into my mouth. His head flew up and back. I'm surprised he didn't give himself whiplash.

I chuckled. That was a mistake. I hadn't counted on him being that close. But the vibration of my laugh had sent him over the edge and it took all my strength to hold him in place as he shot ribbon after ribbon of hot, thick fluid into my mouth and throat. It just kept coming and coming, I thought he'd never run out. He didn't even have time to groan. All I could hear was a long, steady hiss as he exhaled throughout the entire orgasm. It sounded like water hitting a hot iron. He bucked and quivered and bucked some more.

And then he collapsed and I rolled him over onto his back, slowly scooting up so that I could see his face. There were tears rolling down the sides of his face and his opened mouth smile was huge as he gulped and wheezed for air.

It took him several minutes to recover. He finally turned his head toward me and before I knew what had happened, he rolled over, grabbed my head, locked his lips on mine and stabbed deeply into my mouth. We were immediately transported into a world that contained only passion, only love. We violently shared our lips, our tongues, our saliva, even our breath. A class five hurricane couldn't have separated us.

But finally, we both had to breathe. We lay there side by side for at least ten minutes simply holding each others' hand; our fingers laced together, almost white knuckled from our determination to not be separated.

"," he finally whispered.

That was the last thing we remembered until we woke several hours later, still side by side, our fingers still laced together.

I woke completely when Reg rolled slowly toward me and placed his free hand on my chest and began to gently play with the light hair upon my chest. I reached up with my free hand and began to caress his brown tresses, simply reveling in this moment of supreme bliss. We didn't need to say a thing. We'd said it all in our kiss. That had been violent passion. This was tender love.

I glanced over at the bed side clock. Seven.

"When's breakfast?" I asked softly.

I felt his head shift as he too looked at the clock. "An hour."

"Think we can make it to the shower?"

"We better. We smell like sex. Never knew what that meant until now. Mind you, I like it, but the rest of the household might be offended."

As we made our way to the bathroom, I realized that instead of feeling exhausted, I was energized and revved for the day. We washed each other tenderly, trying not to arouse the other. Reg washed me first and them me him. When I was just about done, he turned to me.

"Could you rub my sphincter for a bit?"

"May I do it a bit differently than yesterday?"

He turned and placed his hands on the wall and jutted out his ass. "Uh huh."

I don't know if he really knew what I had in mind, but I doubt it, because his gasp and clinching ass hole told me that he was momentarily shocked that I'd stuck my face between his cheeks and was tonguing him. But that clinching lasted for only a split second as he began to relax and slowly pushed himself backwards. I took a chance when I felt his ass hole go completely limp and I pressed my tongue into his love shaft. His asshole began to clinch and release repeatedly. I reached up and felt between his legs and could feel his orgasm. All I could do is smile. What a horn dog.

When he sighed, I removed my tongue and face from his ass and looked around him. Sure enough, there was a huge volume of cum sliding down the wall and his cock was still spasming as it dripped the last remaining dregs of his seed.

I simply stood and walked out of the shower and began toweling off. It took Reg a couple of minutes to recover, rinse himself and exit the shower.

"Don't you want...?"

I shook my head, grabbing his towel and shaking it out. I stepped over and threw it over his back and shoulders and then took his face in my hands.

"There are times when it is its own pleasure to simply give something to your love without asking anything in return." I kissed his forehead. "I love you." Then I exited the bathroom and began dressing. "You know, if I'm going to be visiting as often as I think, I should probably go home and bring some of my clothes over here."

Reg stepped up beside me and began to dress. "You could, or you could let me take you shopping."

"Reg, you don't have to buy..."

He'd placed his hand over my mouth. "There are times when it is its own pleasure to simply give something to your love without asking anything in return."

I leaned forward and kissed him lightly. "Have I mentioned lately how much I love you?"

"As a matter of fact you have, but I'll never tire of hearing it. I love you too."

We descended the stairs just in time to see Reg's parents leaving the parlor toward the dining room.

"Didn't expect to see you two so early," his father greeted us.

Reg hit his father in the arm. "None of your business, nosey."

His father laughed then wrapped him in a hug and gave him a kiss. Then he shocked me by doing the same to me.

I could have cried, but I didn't. I just felt too warm inside. "Thank you, mist..."

"Wayne, why don't we drop the mister Finger, missus Finger thing? You're obviously going to be around a lot, so why don't you think of us as a second set of parents."

"I'd like that very much, dad."


I smiled. "Well, that was a dad gesture, not a father one."

He looked at me quizzically. "Let's go start breakfast and you can explain the difference to me."

We were halfway through our breakfast before anyone spoke.

"All right, Wayne. We've all knocked the edge off our morning hunger, now perhaps you could explain this dad/father thing."

"Certainly. It came to me one day that our parents are two separate entities in one body. The first, the mother and father, are the people that created us. They are the ones that see to all of our mundane needs; you know, food, clothing, housing, education. But there's an even more important side. That's the mom and dad. They are the ones that see to our emotional and spiritual needs. They are the ones that tuck us in at night, read us bedtime stories until we fall asleep, comfort us when we have some childish hurt, accept us for who we are and support us."

I had their undivided attention.

"Mother and Father teach us the ins and outs of finances, budgets, right and wrong. Mom and Dad teach of the ins and outs of life, love, disappointments, and successes. Mother and Father agonize over the burdens their children place on themselves, thinking of the effect on their child's social standing. But Mom and Dad are the ones that love their child even when society would shun them because of a socially unacceptable label."

The only reaction was when Reg's father looked over at him.

"Don't ask me, I'm the practical one, remember? You know I never had any patience for philosophy." Reg turned and looked at me, his eyes sparkling in loving acceptance. "But this is a philosophy I can embrace..." he turned back to his father..."dad."

Reg's father then looked at me, and his face was gentle and loving. "Where did this come from, son?"

"Honestly, I don't really know. It just happens sometimes. I get bored in class and my mind seems to fold in on itself and I suddenly find myself examining what I call the innerverse. I'm fascinated with the things that make us emotionally unique."

"Hmm. Well, just like Regi, I think this is a philosophy I can embrace, especially since it's been so clearly explained."

Everyone finished their breakfast in silence. It wasn't until dad had placed his napkin on the table that anyone spoke. And that anyone was Reg.

"Father, may I take Wayne shopping for clothes that he could leave here?"

"Oh, what a marvelous idea," said mom.

"I agree with your mother, son," said dad, enthusiastically. He looked at his watch. "The stores won't open for another hour or so. Regi, would you mind if I had a little private chat with Wayne before you leave?"

"Of course not, dad." He was really rolling with this new concept. "I'll need to call Carter and make sure I have my card."

"Thank you, son. And about your card. Why don't we keep it under a thousand for this first trip."

"A thousand?" I asked.

"Dollars," replied Reg and dad together.

My eyes nearly popped out of my head. But before I could say anything, dad raised a hand. "No arguments. If you are going to become a part of this family that means that you'll be needing attire worthy of a Finger, regardless of your last name." Then he smiled. "Please, Wayne, let us do this for you. You deserve it."

"Is this because of what I did for Reg yesterday?"

"No, Wayne," answered mom. "This is because your father and I have decided that you are a long lost Finger that has finally managed to find his way home."

I sat stunned for a moment looking from mom, to dad, to Reg and back again. Finally though, I smiled. "You people are crazy. But it's a crazy that I'm proud to be a part of. Thank you."

"You're welcome, son. Now, why don't you join me in my study while Regi takes care of making all the arrangements."

Reg headed for the staircase, mom for the kitchen and dad and I wandered off to a room on the other side of the staircase from the parlor. It was a grand 'study'. It reminded me of an old English smoking room. Dark wood bookcases filled with volumes of who knew what, dark leather chairs and sofa, a massive desk of oak, with mother of pearl inlay.

Father took his seat behind the desk while I took one of the two wing back chairs before it. I noticed that he'd closed the door after we'd entered. He immediately pulled out a pen and paper and began writing.

"Wayne, I'd like you to try and do something for me today while you and Regi are shopping."

"I hope you know I'll do anything I possibly can for you, dad."

He smiled and looked up at me. "You know, that's going to take some getting use to. Regi has always called me father. I'm not sure why, I never required it. Oh well, with two of your dading me, I imagine I'll get use to it soon enough."

"Anyway, Wayne, I'd like to have you try and get Regi to update his wardrobe. I haven't pressed the issue with him because Penelope and I have tried to let him make his own decisions, so long as they weren't detrimental. But I really am tired of his corduroys and sweaters. You, however, dress sharply. You seem to choose clothing that accentuates your best features and highlights the best parts of your personality. You also don't seem to be caught up in the clothing trends that your peers succumb to."

"It's not the best look for him, that's for certain," I remarked. "And those glasses of his are horrible. I think he's been trying to fade into the background. The problem with that is that he dresses so different from the rest of us that he stands out even more."


"Well, dad, I'll do what I can, but I'm not going to make an issue of it. We've only just discovered each other and I don't want him to think I'm out to change who he is. It will have to be his decision, and I'm not exactly sure how I'd broach the subject with him without giving him the wrong impression."

"I understand that, Wayne. I certainly do not want you doing anything that will jeopardize what you two are building together. I only ask that if you see an opportunity to exploit it as much as you can."

"Under those conditions, I'll be happy to try. I think it'd go a long way to improving his self image."

"My thoughts exactly. So, here is a list of the establishments we frequent and some of the names of people that are usually responsible for assisting us. The one's with the stars beside the name are our particular favorites. We'll go ahead and set the same thousand dollar limit for this first excursion. Oh yes, and here, use this card instead of Regi's."

I nearly dropped it when he handed it to me. What he gave me was his personal American Express Card, his name clearly embossed in the corner.

"Now I'll call ahead to some of these establishments and let them know that you have permission to use that card. If you go somewhere and they question your use," he pushed a business card across to me, "simply have them call this accounting firm and they will verify your authorization."

"Gees, dad," I said, holding up the card.

"Just don't lose it, okay?"

I immediately tucked it into my wallet, in one of the inner compartments. I then folded the paper and stuffed it and the business card in with my bills, what few of them there were.

"Now, Carter always keeps the fuel tanks topped off, so you shouldn't have to worry about that." He rose and led me back to the doors. "Now go, and enjoy yourself."

I stopped before leaving and hugged him. "Thank you, dad."

He returned my embrace warmly. "You're welcome, son."

Reg bounded down the stairs, apparently feeling as energized as I felt. "All done?" he asked.

"Absolutely," I answered, touching his hand briefly. "Let's go see if this town is ready for two teenage Fingers."

"Oh hell, what have I unleashed?" quipped dad.

We all laughed as Reg and I raced for the front doors. Once on the portico, however, I had to stop dead. My nineteen sixty-eight, fire engine red, Plymouth Roadrunner was not awaiting us. Instead there was a sleek, sporty little MG Spider. It was pure white, with maroon interior. The convertible top was down, as it was a spectacular warm, spring morning. And, of course, there was the ever present Carter.

"We took the liberty of sending you vehicle out to be serviced this morning, Mister Wayne. Mister Arthur, himself, selected this vehicle for your use during that time. He said that if you made a fuss that I was to tell you that this vehicle gets far too little use and that you are to take it out and properly exercise it."

I smiled, knowing that it would futile to object. "Will you please inform dad that I am shocked and thrilled, and that, since I'm under strict orders, I will do my utmost to properly exercise this gem to the fullest extent possible. I presume someone has seen to the necessary insurance arrangements?"

He smiled. "I'm not certain, but I'll inquire when I deliver your message. I'm sure that if it has not already been attended to that everything will be handled in short order."

Reg bounced into the passenger seat while I executed a more graceful entry into the command position. "I suppose it's convenient that I actually know how to drive a stick."

"That was his only concern," replied Carter.

"No fear, Carter. I promise not to grind the teeth off the gears." I then buckled my seat belt, something I normally never did, put it in first gear and raced away, being careful not to spin the tires. "Yeow!" I yelled in exhilaration.

We spent the first two hours at stores that catered to the more casual side of what I'd need. All the while I watched as Reg slowly began to look at the selections on the racks with a look of hesitant longing. Hmm, maybe this wouldn't be so hard, after all.

We finally reached Sacks and began selecting the more elegant portion of my wardrobe. Since I had no experience, we enlisted the help of Charles, who was specifically noted on dad's list as the man to see. I suspected that he was gay from his demeanor and his casual touches of appreciation and total lack of inhibitions while measuring me. He never stepped over the line, but he certainly got all he could.

I was taking off my last new outfit when Reg opened the door for me.

"God, I wish I could look that good."

I paused and looked at him and could see the genuine longing. I glanced over at Charles significantly, and he immediately took the hint.

"I'll go see how their progressing with the alterations." He winked and left. I knew he wouldn't return until I asked him to.

Still in my underwear, I sat next to Reg and placed a hand on his knee. "I think you could, if you wanted to."

"You really think anyone could do anything with this?" he asked, looking down at himself.

All right, this had to be defused immediately. The strong, self assured Reg of a few hours ago was gone. In its place sat the shy, insecure little boy.

"Reg, 'this', as you call it, is a magnificent piece of work. It is the ultimate testament to the beauty of the male human form. Every line, every curve is perfectly sculpted."

"You're just saying that because you love me," he smiled. But I could see a hint that he desperately wanted it to be true.

"I suppose that's a natural assumption. But in this case it's not true. Reg, if you were to really display yourself, you'd have the girls swooning and the guys would be green with envy. You might even discover more guys that felt as we do."

He paused and searched my eyes for any sign of duplicity. "You really believe that," he said in wonder.

"With all my heart. Hell, Reg, I'm envious. I wish my body looked half so good."

He gently caressed my cheek. "Your body is beautiful."

"That's sweet, love. But I wish I had a bit more tone and definition."

"We could start working out together?"

"I'd like that very much."

I waited as he looked around at the mounds of clothing I'd been trying on.

"I wouldn't know what to choose," he finally said, softly. Another pause, and I knew I couldn't say a word. If I did, he'd retreat again. Then he looked back at me. "Would you help me?"

"Because you want it, yes."

"I'll have to call and get father's permission."

I smiled. "No you won't." I reached into my wallet and pulled out the credit card I'd been given. "Your father has already made arrangements. He had hoped you'd feel inspired."

Reg's face clouded up.

"Oh Reg, I'm sorry. You're upset with me now." And I was genuinely worried.

His face cleared instantly. "No, no. I just never knew my parents cared about it that much."

"There was a conflict of interest, apparently. Yes, they wished you'd dress better, but they couldn't say anything because then it wouldn't have been your decision. They wanted it to be your choice."

It was like the sun breaking through the cloud cover, his face shone so bright. "Alright, let's update me."

I stepped over and selected an outfit from the pile of things that hadn't needed to be altered. I set it aside, slipping on the trousers. Then I went to the curtain and opened it and motioned Charles to rejoin us.

"Charles, I believe I've got all I need for the time being. But Reg, here, has expressed a desire to update his wardrobe. So we were hoping that we could impose on you further for your help."

"No imposition, Mister Wayne. My time is yours."

"Marvelous. So, here's what I think Reg would like..." And we were off like two generals setting out the strategy for a major campaign. Then Charles had Reg strip to his underwear and began measuring every inch of him, explaining the importance of each measurement to me.

I noticed right away that he was taken with Reg. What self-respecting gay man wouldn't have been. So when it became obvious to me that he was wanting, I caught his eye and simply shook my head slightly and pointed at my chest. He got my drift immediately, and even blushed slightly, and then mouthed the word, 'sorry'. From then on he was nothing but professional.

My fittings had been simple, having already established my style likes and dislikes. Reg's fittings took much longer because we had to experiment. It took us two hours. But when we were done I was more than pleased.

Obviously, the MG wasn't capable of carrying all of our purchases, but Reg had recognized that right away and had called dad to have him arrange to have all our purchases picked up and delivered to the house, so we told Charles to hold everything. He was obviously familiar with the procedure, because he didn't bat an eye.

Reg and I argued about a tip for Charles until Reg finally insisted on one hundred dollars and said he'd take the responsibility. Reg paid for my clothes. But when I handed over my card to pay for Reg's, Charles looked suspiciously at me.

"I believe if you check with your management, you'll find that everything is in order," I said with a smile. I also thought, 'good for you, Charles'. I felt better about the tip.

When we left, we were both wearing new trousers, shoes and a t-shirt, with the remainder of the chosen outfits laying in the back in garment bags so that we could don them later.

Before I pulled away from Sacks, I turned to Reg. "So, how are you feeling about all of this?"

"Damn, Wayne, this is exciting." He turned and took my hand in his. "You were right. Now, is there anything else you think I should do?"

"I don't want you to think I'm trying to..."

"No, no, it's all right. This is my choice. But I need your help. I just don't have any experience and you do. Show me how to be as stunning as you."

"You sure know how to stroke my ego. All right, let's go all out so that when we walk down the street together, people will get whiplash when they have to do a double take."


"Ok, where's your optometrist? Those glasses have got to go. I'd like it if you try contacts."


"Oh yeah. I don't want anything to stand between that beautiful face and the world."

Off we went. What surprised me was that the optometrist actually had Reg's prescription in stock, so that he didn't have to wait for contacts to arrive. It was uncomfortable for him at first, but he was determined to make it work.

Our final stop was to a hair salon. Now this was back in the day where men went to barbers and women went to salons. So it took a couple of stops to find a salon that was willing to take us in and do their best. I knew that I wanted something more for Reg and me than the standard barber's cut. The consultation required three stylists and the owner. There was much pulling, combing and brushing before they thought they had a plan that would fit in with their skills and still give Reg and I the fresh looks we wanted.

It took an hour, but when they were all done the result couldn't have been better. The ladies had trimmed the length, sculpted the sides and generally gave us looks that framed our faces and accentuated our best features.

I asked to use the restroom when they'd finished and Reg and I donned the rest of our outfits. Silk shirts and blazers, with just a touch of jewelry to make everything flash. I exited first and cleared my throat as Reg made a couple of final adjustments. I'd gotten everyone's attention so that when Reg exited, the reaction was priceless.

First came the stunned response; one hand to the mouth, a gasp and wide eyes. Every one of the women did it as if on cue. Then came the smiles and a rousing ovation. Reg blushed a deep red.

"Mr. Finger," breathed the owner.

"Nancy," said Reg in embarrassment, "I thought we agreed that you'd call me Regi."

She shook her head slowly. "And I was pleased to call the boy that came in here Regi. But the man that now stands before me is certainly no Regi. This is a man of distinction, power and grace. Actually it's two men of those qualities." Yep, it was my turn to blush. "No one will ever mistake your stations in life. You are definitely Misters Finger and Edwards, make no mistake."

"This has been a remarkable experience," said Nancy as we paid the bill, including a nice gratuity for all the ladies involved. "I believe I'm going to look into the benefits of including men in our clientele." She smiled at us. "But even if I don't, you young men are always welcome. I'd suggest once a month so that we can maintain your quaffs in perfect condition." We had her set our next month's appointment and left.

It was four in the afternoon when we finally headed for home. But I'd taken the time to raise the top on the MG. We didn't need our hair to become stacks of hay. Besides, I had an idea.

"Reg, are you willing to let me make a production of presenting you to the family?"

"I think I'd enjoy that," he said. And there was genuine appreciation and warmth in his voice.

The house was situated perfectly so that the afternoon sun cast a shadow over the portico and drive, so no one could really see into the car. Only Carter was present when we arrived, which made it perfect. When he opened the door to allow Reg to exit, his jaw dropped.

"Mister Regi?" he breathed. God, I was loving that response.

Reg simply smiled.

Thanks to his being stunned I was able to get his full attention before he made a scene.

"How good of an actor are you, Carter?"

"Beg pardon?" He was clearly having trouble getting his mind to function. It was priceless.

"Do you think you could ask everyone onto the portico without giving this away?" I indicated Reg.

Now his mind clicked into gear and he got a conspiratorial grin on his face. "I believe I could manage that, Mister Wayne." He closed the passenger door and headed off.

I patted Reg's shaking hand. "Take a deep breath, lover. This could turn into an event." I stepped out of the car and stood by the passenger door as everyone gathered.

"What's this about, Wayne?" asked dad when everyone was present.

"I simply thought it'd be nice if everyone was present when I showed you how I'd invested the money you gave me this morning."

That got his immediate attention. His mouth opened slightly and his eyes got slightly wider. Of course mom knew nothing of what we'd talked about, so the confusion on her face was understandable.

All I did was reach down and open the door, never looking away from the portico. I could feel Reg unfold himself from the car with grace and confidence. And I'm glad I hadn't looked away because the reactions were priceless. Every woman gasped and threw a hand over their mouth. The men grew wide eyed, but smiled their approval. But it was dad's response that totally made this worthwhile. His eyes instantly filled with tears.

"," he said as he slowly descended the stairs. It wasn't until he stood before his son that Reg finally spoke.

"Good afternoon, father."

One minute they're looking into each others' eyes and the next, dad had grabbed Reg into an intense embrace. "Regi, you look spectacular," whispered his father.

They stood like that for a minute or so, until mother came up beside them and gently touched her husband's arm. He stepped back and allowed her to take his place. But he didn't just stand there. He immediately grabbed me into an equally fierce embrace.

"You look spectacular too, Wayne."

"Thank you," I said, returning the hug.

"If you dare deny your part in this transformation, I swear I'll send you to bed without your supper."

"All right," I chuckled, "Then I won't."

It wasn't until mom and dad stepped back that the staff responded by applauding with real feeling. We were still standing there when the delivery truck arrived. Mother was quite taken back when they opened the rear and she got her first look at the shear volume.

"My god, Regi. Is there enough room in your closet for all of this?"

"There is, mother, if you burn everything that's currently in there. I never want to lay my eyes on another pair of corduroys or another sweater."

There was two hours until supper, which gave mother and several of the staff enough time to dismantle and reload our closet, while we sat with dad and talked about the day and all the fun we'd had.

'Our closet'. That sure had a nice ring to it. And I felt that the real significance of it was the imagery of 'our'. Yes, I'd begun as the strong one, the mentor and comforter. But over the course of this day and a half, Reg had assumed that role for me. I really appreciated this aspect of our relationship. I could see that we were going to be able to be whatever the other needed. There wouldn't be a dominant or submissive between us. We were, like our parents, equals. Each of us had skills the other lacked, which only meant that we would be more capable of handling what life dealt us.

Yes, there were bound to be disagreements, but if we continued to nurture this equality, then the compromises would be endurable, and would only make us stronger.

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