Brass Balls

by Chris James

Chapter One

It had been a long sad drive down from Orlando and even a glorious red sunset didn't cheer him up. The emotions Gary had encountered at the funeral varied from tears of emotion to downright anger. Like all of his companions, Marty had laughed in the face of death before, only this time he couldn't overcome the odds. Gary knew he had done everything to assure Marty's safety on the mission, but there was no telling that to the family.

Providing security for a world in crisis meant facing danger, they all knew that. Terrorism was on the rise, business was good, too good, and that meant they all took risks. It was just at moments like this that they all wished things had been planned a little better, but then it was the clients who always screwed things up.

It should have been a simple babysitting job. A huge oil tanker was like a working factory the length of several football fields. But the ship and cargo were worth over a billion dollars and so security was first and foremost.

The owners had hired Gary's company based upon reputation, and most likely that contract would have lowered their insurance rates. He was there when two normal looking shipping containers were placed aboard in Dubai and welded to the deck plates. Everything looked correct, but looks could be deceiving.

Each unit was fully armored, six inches of hardened steel all around that would resist a direct hit from most of the ordinance terrorists were using these days. Inside each of the forty foot long containers was some of the most sophisticated military hardware available anywhere in the world. It was Gary's business to know how to apply it.

Oliver and Marty had checked out the systems, run several tests and then sealed the heavy doors. Marty had moved into a small cabin below the bridge, and was only supposed to be along for the ride. But he understood the mission…he was there to make sure it all worked.

The ATDS system's containers were fully automatic, and for sixteen million dollars apiece they had better work when needed. Gary and Tommy had flown to Scotland to witness the initial tests presented by the manufacturer and it had been impressive.

The concept of placing an automatic threat detection system on board a very expensive, and very slow ship, seemed like a good idea. Those who would attack and attempt to hijack these ships would be in for a big surprise. Of course, when all was said and done, none of the pirates would be around to spread the word of this new defense.

The crew was not privy to the capabilities of the system, only the captain was told that the pirate defense was complete and would keep the ship safe. There was the sticking point, the trust needed to accept this solution and allow it to work. Until that had been proven, Marty was a necessary expedient since armed vessels were not allowed in many ports of call.

The speed and movements of a tanker were ponderous, especially when they were loaded with high grade crude. The past two years had been a time fraught with danger for these tanker jockeys, especially along the coast of Africa. Pirates ranged for a thousand miles up and down the coast of Somalia, and the cost of their hijackings was taking a toll in people and equipment.

Pickering Oil Company had bought into the idea of self-defense, at least on the ownership level. Gary had his doubts that the captain would flip the switch when the time came. Marty had drawn the babysitting chore for these three months, but it could have been any of them.

The Bally Three tanker had been eight hundred miles from the Gulf of Oman, plowing ahead down the middle of the Arabian Sea and headed for Shreveport, Louisiana, when the threat detector went off. It was just about dusk, a favorite time for pirates to attack in the gathering gloom of night.

The threat system was wired into the ship's radar and the configuration of small boats that suddenly appeared was suspicious. The computer programs in the starboard box had analyzed the threat level and determined that these boats were something to worry about. The system automatically sent a warning to the bridge.

Marty had climbed to the bridge and watched the crew panic. The captain was Greek, his crew mostly Indonesian.

"Captain, you should allow the ATDS to handle this problem," Marty had said.

The bridge was wired for sound. All live voices and radio transmissions would be recorded and used for later analysis of the activity before, during and after the action of the units.

"It is no use, they will board us," The captain was heard to say. "If we resist they will kill us."

"Captain, the ATDS will not allow them to board…please activate the system," Marty said.

His was the voice of reason…calm, experienced. He knew the capabilities of the self-defense network, and yet the captain refused.

"Then you had best call your owners and tell them you're not going to do it, you have about fifteen minutes to decide," Marty had said.

"Get off my bridge or I will have you shot," The captain was heard to say.

"Sure, Captain…this is your command," Marty replied.

Gary knew what happened next, it was exactly what he would have done. Marty returned to his cabin and engaged the override link through his laptop. He'd thrown the "coward switch," something they figured might be necessary. And things happened pretty fast after that.

Each container was self-sufficient after it had been activated. A slot in the roof opened and the antenna arrays rose into position. GPS, infrared sensors, radar and live video feeds combined to make the weapons systems immensely accurate. Two side panels opened and the outboard weapons deployed, projecting eight feet beyond the sides of the tanker.

The 40 millimeter rotating breech 'Gatling' guns were sufficient to sink any small craft, but there were four ship to ship missiles as well in case there was a larger craft involved. And as the small fast boats filled with pirates hove into range the system began to track them.

The computers identified the four boats approaching, sifting through target information and comparing them to profiles available in the data base. An infrared sweep of each craft identified the body heat signatures of the passengers and noted the outline of the weapons they held ready. The boat ID and weapons profiles gave the system the green light to proceed to the next level.

The GPS range finder triangulated the small boats to within mere inches of the space they occupied on the sea. At the same time, satellite imaging fixed the trailing position of a mother ship that had carried these boats so far from land. It too was subjected to careful scrutiny and declared a valid target. There were now green lights across the board, the system began its response.

A panel in the roof of the starboard container opened and a small platform rose up from inside. A brief puff of smoke and the bright blue Destroyer II ship to ship missile was launched at the horizon. It linked with the GPS satellite and the video imaging control popped on, the missile was armed and deadly.

The Destroyer II honed in on its target twenty-three miles away at twice the speed of sound and dipped towards the ocean. The predetermined attack angle was twenty degrees which brought the missile just fifty feet above the water during its short flight. The mother ship never saw it coming.

At four hundred yards the nose cone snapped off and the package of one inch ball bearings slowly began to spread. The center core of depleted uranium was aimed dead center on the craft, and it all hit at the same time. The ball bearings shattered every piece of wood, plastic and metal they contacted. But the core traveled through the deck, impacting the engine block, fuel tanks and hull before spinning away into the depths of the ocean.

The mother ship was shattered, torn to bits without even an explosion that might attract attention. The sea was left covered in wreckage and body parts, no one had the chance to phone home for help. Major world governments would not approve of the method of execution, but they would certainly applaud the results, if they ever found out…which they wouldn't.

Back at the tanker the weapons systems aimed at the four small boats and the result was devastating. The 40 millimeter guns spewed twelve hundred rounds a minute and the system could track a dozen targets at one time. In two minutes the action was over, scratch four pirate boats.

That should have been the end of it, except the Greek captain went ballistic. Marty was seized, and dragged to the bridge, but not before he hit the panic button. A satellite link was made and a signal went out, Gary and Tommy were both notified that something had gone wrong.

Tommy arrived in Port Elizabeth, South Africa before the ship docked. The crew gave him some story about Marty being shot by pirates, but it wasn't convincing. Tommy accessed the memory banks and the digital playback gave him the voice of the captain screaming at Marty and then two gunshots.

The crew was forced off the ship and Tommy locked the captain in the brig. No one was about to argue with the big man, it was a wise decision. The captain was currently awaiting extradition to England where Pickering was based. He was just lucky that Tommy would allow the law to take care of this business.

The system was removed from the Bally Three two days later and Gary evoked the wrongful death clause of Pickering's contract, walking away with their fifteen million dollar bond. It was hardly worth Marty's death, but Pickering would never get another security contract, no one would touch them now. Clients were often their own worst enemy.

The five remaining members of the team stood graveside and each gave their own personal farewell to their comrade in arms. Marty had been with them since the beginning and there would be no replacing his skills. First Gary, then Tommy, Nate, Oliver and Jackson bowed their heads and then each of them quietly tossed a bullet into the grave. It was the oldest tradition they had, the most sacred.

So many deaths had plagued them in the sands of the Middle East those many years ago that they all began to see it as the devil's hand instead of Saddam's. The bullets were a symbol of their work which was often nasty and evil. If the deceased ever met up with the devil at least he would have the ammunition to do something about it.

Gary had come to Orlando for the funeral, and to make sure the team survived the emotions of the day. But he was also there to see Marty's mother, an elderly woman who had lived a good life and raised a wonderful son. Gary was there to dispel any doubts she might have about Marty's chosen profession and to personally hand her the insurance check. It would not bring her son back, but a million dollars would ease her declining years since Marty could not.

Gary was tired, he needed rest. The past week had been difficult, but this had been the hardest year he could recall in quite some time. The countless trips across the globe to Africa, Pakistan and Indonesia had taken their toll. He was tired of looking at dead bodies, the results of an expanding terror network.

There was only one place he could get the kind of relaxation he needed and it would begin with a short trip on the ocean. For once a sailor, always a sailor, and the far blue horizon called out to him. But now his eyes felt heavy, and so he took the next exit off the Florida Turnpike, following the signs towards Boca Raton.

He needed caffeine and Federal Highway along the coast was the most likely place to find a donut shop open in the middle of the night. He pulled into the parking lot of the Dunkin' Donuts and glanced through the front window. There were only two other customers sitting at the counter…no wait, three. Number three was standing with his back to the door as Gary pushed inside.

"You're twenty cents short, sweetie," The lady behind the counter said.

Gary could see she was speaking to a short, lanky, and yet very handsome young man. If he had to guess he would have said the boy was about seventeen, maybe eighteen. Boys with long blond hair always attracted him. This one looked to be a local, not some tourist.

"I can give it to you next time," The boy said, looking down at the cup of soda in her hand.

She smiled, but there was no trust in her eyes. Gary leaned around the boy and slapped a quarter on the counter.

"No sense holding up progress for just a few pennies," He said.

The boy eyed Gary and gave him a nod of thanks, and then he turned away for the door.

"I'll take a large coffee…black, if you please," Gary said. My God, those blue eyes had been stunning.

He didn't turn to look for the boy since that would be tempting fate. If it was meant to be then they would meet again. Gary paid for his coffee and walked back out to the car. The boy was nowhere in sight.

The image had been delightful. The kid wasn't very tall and maybe a bit too thin. The tee shirt he was wearing had a few stains on the back and a small tear up by the collar. The board shorts were faded, but it was the sneakers he remembered most. The left one was worn and the side was held together with a piece of duct tape.

It was his job to be observant and he could absorb a myriad of details in an instant, but in this case it didn't get him anywhere. Gary started the car and pulled out of the parking lot headed south, back on track for Fort Lauderdale. He hadn't reached twenty miles an hour when he saw the boy walking beside the road. It was now or never.

The blond hair stood out in the headlights, and Gary pulled over ahead of the boy. The kid kept walking, in no hurry, as if he was expecting the car to wait. He finally walked up beside the passenger door and leaned down to look through the open window.

"Hey, you owe me twenty cents," Gary laughed. "Where was the party anyway?"

A smile, perfect teeth. "Pelican Point, but I have to go all the way down to the Glades Expressway…you going that far?"

The kid was stunning, and even in the dim light Gary could tell he was a rare beauty. "You really do need a ride, that's quite a distance. Sure, I'm going to Lauderdale."

The kid didn't hesitate, he slid inside. "Nice car…"

"Gary…were you really planning to walk ten miles?"

"No…not really, I can usually flag a ride. Sometimes it's easy, sometimes not," The boy said.

"I suppose it depends on whose driving," Gary replied. He knew exactly what the boy was saying. With looks like that a boy could expect to be approached. "So…what do your friends call you?"

"If I had any they'd call me Chris."

"Oh, that's not right on so many levels," Gary said. "Are you headed home?"

"Yeah…I guess so, where are you going?" Chris asked.

"Sailing on the deep blue sea, have you ever been out?"

"Some guys from school took me out fishing once, you going fishing?"

"Not especially, but I am going sailing. All the way to Rio and back this time. Pretty hot time of the year but it was the only vacation time I could get."

"Is this Rio place far?" Chris asked.

"Rio de Janeiro, biggest city in Brazil. Don't they teach you anything in school?"

"About South America, are you kidding? School here sucks, man, that's why I can party hardy all the time."

"It's a risk, what if you get caught?" Gary asked.

"I'm still a kid, they'll just slap my wrist."

"Not for long. If you like taking risks go rob a bank, at least you'll have something to show for it," Gary laughed. Now where was he going with this?

"No way. Just because I like a good time doesn't mean I'm crazy," Chris replied.

"But you like risks? So, what are you doing this summer, just late night parties?"

"No…well, so far, yeah."

"I have a better deal for you…sail to Rio with me. It will be a grand cruise. The Bahamas, Virgin Islands, Barbados, Trinidad…travel and see the world."

"Huh? I can't do that...my mom would go ballistic."

"Then don't ask, just go. You look old enough to take care of yourself. We'll write her a letter saying you've been kidnapped by South American drug lords and she can expect a ransom note later. By the time it hits the fan we'll be outta here, sail for sixty days and I'll put you back on the dock before school starts. Then you can tell them all about your daring escape."

Chris was sitting there with his mouth open, amazed at what he had just heard. Gary wanted to laugh but he didn't dare, where did he come up with these screwball ideas? Either it worked or it didn't. What he was proposing was outrageous, but the decision belonged to Chris.

"This is crazy, how can I just run off for two months?" Chris asked.

"Ride with me to the boat and I'll show you. All I have to get is a few provisions tomorrow morning and I'm off. I'm serious...we'll send your mom a letter. I think you need a little adventure this summer, but it has to be your choice."

The boat was docked in Ft. Lauderdale and that was where he was headed. Chris hadn't said yes, but Gary didn't hear a no either. They were fast approaching the Expressway turn off, but if Chris didn't say no he planned to keep going.

"You have a good boat?" Chris asked.

Gary let out a sigh; the boy was going to chance it. "Thirty-six footer, sloop rigged and all the latest electronics. I sailed to Mexico last year and Italy the year before. I'm fully qualified by the Coast Guard."

Oh Lord, Italy had been fine. But if Chris agreed to go maybe he could top that.

"My mom is gonna shit bricks," Chris said.

"Come see the boat, then decide," Gary suggested. "I don't want you to do this unless you feel comfortable. But I could sure use the help."

Yeah, that sounded good. Gary wasn't about to explain that the boat almost sailed itself.

"Your boat…okay. Yes, let's go see your boat. I'm already late, so what's a few more hours? She won't stay mad for long. Oh man, South America, she's gonna shit boulders," Chris laughed. "Hey, can I smoke a joint?"

"Sure, knock yourself out…this isn't my car anyway, I borrowed it at the marina."

The kid started smoking and didn't even notice as they passed the Expressway turnoff. Gary's boat sat in a private marina off the Intercostal waterway. It was just one of thousands of watercraft floating in slips all up and down the coast, but she was special.

Brass Balls, Key West, Florida was painted on the stern in gold letters but it would be too dark to see that. It was almost three in the morning by now and the place was dead quiet. Getting Chris aboard without being seen would be no problem, most of the boats belonged to day sailors.

In fact, Tony was the only full timer there and it was his car Gary was driving. They rolled into the gravel lot beside the dock with shreds of pot smoke still hanging in the air around them. Gary could tell by the smell that it was pretty good stuff, but that was close enough. He had government security clearances to worry about and they occasionally drug tested.

"Which one is yours?" Chris asked.

"Single mast, oh...the one with the blue light at the stern," Gary said. The boy didn't know beans about boats.

Gary guided Chris across the dock in the dark since the few security lights back in the parking lot were of little help in lighting the way. The boat sat calmly in a sea of black water but there was still a risk of falling in if they stumbled. Jumping across to the deck, Gary turned to assist the boy onboard before unlatching the companionway door and sliding back the hatch cover. A click and the lights came on in the cabin below.

"Watch your step going down. Ladders like this take some getting used to," Gary said.

Chris followed Gary down the steep ladder and stepped into the main cabin.

"Wow, awesome," He said.

Gary would have thanked him for appreciating the nautical layout, but of course the boy only had his eyes on the entertainment center. The current weather forecast had been good so it looked like a go for tomorrow morning.

"You sure do travel in style," Chris said.

"Are you still thinking about joining me?"

"It's crazy…I don't know you. You haven't told me anything about yourself."

"Gary Lewis, age thirty-four, financially independent. What else do you want to know?"

"I don't know, are you married? Got any kids?" Chris asked.

"Never married. As for kids, I pick up strays here and there. Got one boy in college, another couple running around somewhere. They sailed with me, worked hard and I felt they needed a chance, a better life."

"Oh, I see. Did you think I was a stray?"

"Didn't know, but I was curious," Gary said. "Look, I hate sailing alone. What if I fell overboard? All this would go to waste and nobody would call the Coast Guard."

"You really want me to come?" Chris asked.

"Yes…yes I do."

"I don't have any sailing experience."

"By the time we come back they'll be calling you…what do they call you?"

"Chris Owens, age eighteen just last week. I got kicked back a grade in elementary school over family problems, and financially…I'm broke."

Gary smiled at the boy's honesty. "We all have to start somewhere. By the time we get back you'll have sailing skills, that's a marketable commodity here in Florida. I predict you won't be broke for long."

Chris grinned. "Cool." He said, followed by a large yawn.

Chris took the bed in the forward cabin and went right to sleep. As was his habit Gary checked his laptop for mail and fell asleep on the couch, waking up three hours later as the sun came up.

Chris was softly snoring as Gary hustled over to Tony's and borrowed a few essentials. Then he cast off the lines and started the engine…they were twelve miles out when the boy finally awoke. Gary was sitting behind the wheel in the cockpit on the aft deck when Chris stumbled up the companionway ladder.

"Whoa, we're on the ocean," He yelped, glancing all around at the vast stretch of water. "I didn't think…I mean maybe…"

"Change your mind already?" Gary asked. "We'll hit the Bahamas about two this afternoon. If you want to back out I'll put you on a plane back to Lauderdale, you'd be home in time for supper."

"Would you…really?"

"Yes, really."

"It's just that…well, I've never done anything like this before," Chris said.

He became silent and Gary focused on the boat. The minutes ticked by until…

"Uh, Gary?"

"Yeah…what's on your mind?"

"This is real, right? I mean, you don't want to hurt me or anything, do you?"

"Get real, you made the right decision," Gary said. "I want you to have a wonderful time and learn all about sailing. Which reminds me, how about we turn this into a sailboat?"

"Uh, what does that mean?" Chris asked.

Gary throttled down and killed the ignition. The silence was sweet; the only sounds were gentle waves lapping at the hull. "Let's put up the sails," He said.

Chris was a willing crew. He hauled on the halyards when told and learned the workings of a winch. In short order they were under sail with the boat heeled over at a respectable rake and running before the wind. The change in the boy was delightful, he seemed to blossom in the morning sun.

They ran hard most of the morning, eating cereal with bananas on deck, while a good breeze off the mainland kept them moving. Gary made landfall in Freeport by mid-afternoon. They docked and did the usual customs nonsense. The official looked Chris over and decided he could be the son Gary had declared him to be. The issue was decided when Gary handed over his passport with two one hundred dollar bills folded inside.

They ate an early dinner at a small bistro near the market place where Gary bought the boy some clothes, several bathing suits and a new pair of sneakers. Gary lived almost naked on the boat but he thought Chris would have to be eased into that one. He didn't want to shock the kid right away; it was too soon for that.

Darkness found them back on the boat with Chris smoking a joint as Gary set them up to play a video game. The boy had a little tin box with quite a few joints in it. Once those were gone Gary wasn't planning on allowing him to smoke any more. It would have to become part of their deal.

"Do you always sleep on the couch?" Chris asked. "I'll bet I'm in your bed."

"Couch is all right for now. I couldn't sleep in bed with you anyway, I don't know you that well," Gary joked. He wasn't going to mention that the benches folded into beds, Chris hadn't discovered that yet.

Chris laughed but then frowned. "Maybe I should take the couch? Well, how about you use the bed too, it's big enough for us both."

"Sure you won't steal the covers?"

"Covers? It's ninety-five degrees outside."

Around ten o'clock they doused the lights and locked the door before heading off to bed. The whole bow was taken up with the mattress so it was big enough for two. Gary began to strip and Chris turned his back self-consciously to pull off his shirt.

"Good night, mate," Gary said turning out the bedside lamp.

"Good night, Captain," Chris replied.

Gary lay in the dark listening to the boy breathe, he wasn't asleep.

"You did real well today, Chris. I think you'll make a fine sailor."

"Thanks."

Silence filled the cabin as gentle swells moved the boat up against the dock
.
"Chris…are you scared by all this?"

"Yes…this is all so weird."

"We'll figure it out tomorrow, go to sleep now," Gary said. "Nothing bad will ever happen to you while I'm around, and that's a promise. Good night."

Minutes later Chris' soft breathing filled the cabin and Gary smiled. Tomorrow they would head south and it would be time to teach the boy about himself. Now that Chris was committed to their adventure maybe he would open up a little bit more about his young life. This wouldn't be the first boy Gary had nurtured.

When Gary awoke the other side of the bed was empty and he felt a moment of panic, had the boy run? But there were noises from the galley and the smell of coffee filled the air. Lord, the kid was making breakfast. He scampered out of bed and went to see what was brewing.

In daylight the boy was outstanding in only a bathing suit. The endearing part about Chris' beauty was that he didn't seem to be vain about it like so many others.

"You know how to cook?" Gary asked.

"Oh, yeah. Around my house if you didn't cook you didn't always eat."

"Is that a good thing or bad?"

"My mom drinks, Gary. I haven't seen my dad in....um, I was eight years old last time. They split and I dumped school in third grade until Family Services caught up with me. Now I'm a year behind…if I decide to go back. "

"I'm sorry. I'll bet you had to look after yourself pretty much."

"Yeah, it was something like that," Chris agreed.
.
"Then after breakfast we'll write that letter to your mom, okay?" Gary suggested.

"Sure…maybe she'll even read it."

So, things were not so good at home for the kid. They wrote Chris' mother a silly letter, all about his running away from home to make money on the high seas. Promising to be back in a few months, Chris signed it with a flourish and they posted it at the mailbox down at the marina office...and then cast off.

The weather forecast called for calm seas for the next three days, after which Gary would start to monitor things more closely. Hurricane season was several weeks off but as they would be heading into the Bermuda Triangle it paid to be careful.

There was a risk in taking a boy into foreign waters without the proper papers. There had been other boys, other trips, and Gary knew what lay ahead. But there were solutions he had used before. He had been heading for Key West all along, always the first stop on any long trip. Now they could use Max's talents to their advantage.

Chris helped set sail after they cleared the breakwater, performing his tasks as assigned. By nine o'clock it was pretty hot and Gary smelled his armpits, it was time for a bath so he engaged the auto pilot.

Fresh water wasn't to be wasted on board a small boat, although they had more than enough for their needs. Gary fetched a bucket with a rope attached, two towels and a bar of soap. Chris watched the activity from the stern seat as Gary threw the bucket overboard and hauled it back in full of sea water.

"Bath time, Chris. It's a little different on a boat because we don't want to waste fresh water. Sometimes you can catch a nice rain to help out, otherwise it's like this."

Gary stripped off the bathing suit and dumped the salt water over his head. It was difficult to lather up with salt water but he managed enough to give Chris the idea. He rinsed off in another bucket of ocean water. Once the soap had gone down the scuppers he filled the bucket from the starboard water tank mounted above the cabin and began to clean the salt off his skin.

"See how easy that was? Rather than waste fresh water, you wait until the final rinse. Now it's your turn."

Chris hadn't stared at Gary's nakedness but he had taken a look at the equipment. He shyly worked the string on his suit and was completely caught unawares as Gary dumped the bucket of salt water over his head. Chris yelped, and then they both laughed. Gary handed over the bar of soap and looked down.

"Oh, still got your foreskin," He said.

Chris shyly put a hand in front of his crotch. "My mom always said it was more natural like this." He began to lather up.

"She's right, wish my mother had felt the same way. I've heard it feels better during sex, but I bet you don't have a lot of experience at that yet."

"Hey, I'm no virgin…I did it once."

"Good for you, how did it feel?"

Chris blushed and then laughed. "I don't remember doing it, I was too stoned."

"What a bitch," Gary laughed, and knew the boy was lying.

Another clue to the puzzle. Gary could only wonder why a handsome boy like this didn't have any experience. He had the looks to attract girls, but maybe that wasn't what he wanted…it was too soon to tell. Once Chris was clean Gary didn't make any move to put on clothes and instead went back to the stern and sat down.

Chris joined him as if being naked was finally all right if that was the way it was going to be. It was time to begin the sailing lessons. Out here in the vast blue emptiness there were things the boy needed to know.

An hour later Chris was starting to show pink skin and that could become painful if it didn't get the proper attention. Gary urged the boy below and trusted the auto-pilot to keep them on course. The radar would blare out a warning if anything approached within five miles. It would allow Gary the pleasure of rubbing sunscreen on Chris' back and shoulders.

"I enjoy being naked when I'm out on the sea," Gary said, "but your skin needs more protection. You have a good tan already, but the waves of ultra-violet light are stronger out here."

Chris rubbed the lotion on his legs and thighs. "You might need some there later on," Gary said, nodding at the boy's crotch. "Lord knows you don't want to roast your weenie." They laughed at that one and Chris offered to lotion Gary's back.

"You have a couple of nasty scars…what happened?" Chris asked.

"Military service, the bad guys shoot at you, sometimes they don't miss."

Silence, Chris was thinking about that. "How come you never married, Gary? I mean, you're still a young guy."

The time was ripe for revelation; Chris had to find out sometime. "I have women as friends, Chris, but I prefer sleeping with guys."

The hands stopped moving on his back. "You're gay?"

"Kind of makes you feel uncomfortable, doesn't it? Sitting here naked, rubbing lotion on the back of a gay guy…sorry, I should have told you before."

"Is that why you brought me out here…for sex?"

"No, my partners are willing or it doesn't happen. Sex is the sharing of pleasure and it only works when both sides agree."

"You don't think…I'm not…"

"I know that, I'm not asking you to do anything." Gary turned around and stared at Chris' astonished face. "Right now sex for you is making love to your right hand, I've been there…we all start there. I just don't want you to reject a friendship with me because I'm gay."

Chris nodded. "I won't."

They went back up on deck and checked the instruments. A few distant blips on the radar screen. "See that, those are cargo ships I bet," Gary said, pointing at the screen. "The only time we have to be careful is when we cross any major shipping lanes. Those big babies wouldn't even feel it if they ran us down. They throw a wake that runs out miles behind and it gets to be a pretty bumpy ride when we encounter one."

"How did you learn all this stuff?" Chris asked.

"Navy for six years, the rest I got from experience. I crewed on a boat much like this up north when I was very young. Best experience of my life. So...I suppose I need to tell you where we're going...are you curious?"

"Yeah, you better tell me," Chris said. "This isn't like driving down the road, everything looks the same out here."

"Good point. See, this screen, it's a chart of the area around us and over here we have the GPS system. That gives us the exact location we occupy at the moment. I read the numbers off this and locate us on the chart."

Gary showed him how it worked and they spent several hours discussing important things like the auto pilot, the navigation system and communications. Finally, Gary spoke about their destination.

"Key West? I thought we were going to South America?" Chris said.

"We are, but since there will be some stops in between I know we need some paperwork to cover your ass. This boat is registered down there and I have friends who can get us what we need...you'll see."

"Okay, I've never been there before anyways. Um...are these friends of yours gay too?"

"Yes, they are...does that worry you? They're regular people, Chris."

"Uh, well it sorta feels strange...they won't think I'm gay, will they?"

Gary smiled and put a hand on Chris' shoulder. "This gay thing worries you, doesn't it? I guess you think that because you're here with me that everyone will think you're gay, but that's wrong. No one will think anything like that, so you don't have to be defensive. Just because I'm gay doesn't mean any of my friends will assume you are. None of us are like that.

"What they will see in you is what I see right now...a smart and very handsome young man, because that is what you are. Gay isn't something that rubs off. You can't catch it from me or anyone else."

"I know that," Chris said, "It's just...I don't want them assuming anything, like I'm your boyfriend or something."

Gary sighed, it would be better to be open and honest with this one. "I could only wish to have someone like you as my boyfriend, but I understand your concerns. Hang with me and I promise you'll meet some interesting people. Better yet, I think you'll like them very much just like I do."

"Gary...you're the only gay person I know," Chris said.

"Am I that bad? Have I ever been anything but honest with you? If I was a bad person then you might think all gay men were bad, and that would be simply wrong. I like you, Chris. You're a fascinating young man and even after this trip is over I want to stay friends with you, do you think that's possible?"

Chris smiled. "I like you too. You're being gay just confuses me, it's something I don't understand."

"Well we have time to learn more about each other, at least that's what I hope. Trust me, no one will assume you're anything but a nice heterosexual boy, I'll make sure of that."

Chris took that in and yet there were other questions behind those dreamy blue eyes.

"Gary...have you had other boyfriends like me? I mean, boys like me?"

"Would you be surprised if I had? You know I find you attractive. The answer is yes. I loved some of them and they felt the same way about me. But boys grow up, our lives changed and they moved on. But I did whatever I could to help them become good young men.

"We may never grow any closer than we are now, Chris...that's entirely up to you. But I can promise you something right now. I will be here for you when you grow up, when you need help with anything all you have to do is ask. I think you're a very special person."

Chris grinned and then without thinking of what it might mean he threw his arms around Gary's neck and they hugged. His body moved closer and they touched chest to chest. It was warm and affectionate, and Gary basked in that feeling. There would be time to discover what the boy had in mind, there was always time.

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