Leaping Into the Quarry
Chapter 9
On the train going back to Normal the next morning we were feeling the effects of too much beer. We were like giddy kids. When we got to Springfield, half way back, we got serious and started assigning duties. We had only two weeks to get ready. When we pulled into the driveway at Doc’s a horse trailer, hitched to a black pickup, was parked there. I could see Doc leading Bess toward the trailer. My heart sank. With her gone there was no longer any direct connection with my mother. As I walked toward the trailer,
I felt Zack put his arm around my shoulder. Taking a deep breath, he whispered in my ear, “It’ll be OK, babe. You have wonderful memories.” Tears ran down my cheek. With Doc on one side of me and Zack on the other, we watched as the back gate of the trailer closed, and the truck pulled away. Doc, without a word, reached his long, muscled arms out and pulled us both into his chest. I was crying like a baby. Mike and James stood back.
Zack agreed to call Wally to tell him that we no longer needed his services. Zack told us that he needed us for Tan-Tara but Zack told him we weren’t available. Wally slammed the phone down. Zack and Mike approached Coach about borrowing the pommel horse, in addition to the parallel bars. Our routine depended on Coach’s approval. He agreed, and encouraged us to use the gym far practice. Zack reported that Coach wasn’t too happy about us working for a beer company since three of us were too young to drink alcohol legally. But he understood that we needed the money.
I made hotel reservations in St. Louis followed by Chicago for the Grant Park Music Festival. James called Andrea to see if she would order outfits for him, plus extras for us since we would be performing in the middle of summer. When the package arrived parcel post four days later James unwrapped twelve ballet straps of multiple colors in front of us. We hadn’t seen anything but white ones before. We had a big laugh. She also bought a matching outfit for little Stan.
We perfected our routine with Mike and me starting with a dual floor exercise; followed by Zack’s graceful, energetic pommel horse routine; then James swinging like a bird on the parallel bars; Mike was next with his floor exercises, which ended with a double somersault and, finally, me twirling on the parallel bars, ending with a somersault dismount. Matt called to say that he would be driving up to see our routine. He was technically our manager, so we couldn’t say “No”. We weren’t sure what he’d think of our commune of guys and girls.” He asked if he could stay with us which required some rearranging. Mike made it clear that he wasn’t sleeping with Matt. Since Vicki was gone James moved back in with Mike. We would give James’ room which had been our quiet room to Matt.
Matt drove into the driveway on Friday afternoon in a red Thunderbird hard top convertible. We, including little Stan, went out to meet him. He looked surprised to see a child with us. His expression suggested that he was baffled. I preempted his questions and said, “Matt, this probably doesn’t make a lot of sense but let me explain.” During my telling, both Doc and Boris came home. I explained that we lived in the main house which housed students learning trapeze skills. I told him Boris and Doc lived next door. I explained that we were doing the gymnastics exhibitions to make extra money, since we didn’t have scholarships.
“What about the little boy. Who does he belong to?”
“He belongs to all of us. He is Zack’s sister’s child. She, unfortunately, was killed in an auto accident.” At that point Stan came running into the room naked, closely followed by Joyce. She said, “Yes, in warm weather that’s how he usually dresses.” There was laughter.
Zack rode with Matt as they followed the pickup to the gym where we showed Matt our routine. He said, “I think one of you needs to tell the audience what you are doing.”
“That means we have to have microphones and speakers, which is more money. What about music?”
“Music would be good. When I get back to St. Louis, I’ll see if there’s anything in the budget for it. Want to see a picture of the motor home and trailer, all painted and ready to go?” We passed pictures around and couldn’t believe the luxury, that we certainly didn’t have in the trailer. After we showered Matt invited us out to dinner but Boris was already cooking dinner.
James sat next to Matt during dinner. They talked and seemed unaware of our presence. Zack smiled at me, as we ate our steak, baked potato, corn-on-the-cob and cherry cobbler. Mike looked relieved. James and Matt continued their conversation in the family room after the rest of us went to bed. I said to Zack, “Any bets on where James sleeps tonight?”
“I’ll bet he sleeps alone.” That turned out to the correct answer, as James reported to Zack in the morning. James and Matt had definitely made a connection. Matt stayed until Tuesday and attended every one of our practices. That afternoon, he returned to St. Louis to get the new Michelob booth and the exhibition stage ready. We said, “Goodbye.” James walked with Matt to the car and gave him a hug that was stiffly returned.
When James came inside, I said, “You seem to like Matt.”
“Yes, we really clicked. We like the same things. He’s a bright guy.”
“And very rich, just remember that. Rich guys can easily squash guys like us. Just be careful.”
“He is too nice to do anything like that.”
Zack repeated my words, “Just be careful. We don’t want you to get hurt.”
We rented a truck for the parallel bars, the pommel horse and mats. We received a glorious send off from Doc, Boris, Joyce, Betty and little Stan. I drove my pickup, so we could get around when we didn’t want to move the motor home. We arrived at the brewery in a downpour and hadn’t thought about performing in the rain. Matt informed us that the portable stage issue had not been resolved. We didn’t know whether Matt had arranged for the sound system. He led us to the motor home and trailer, which were located next to a gigantic garage, We unloaded the equipment.
The motor home was more luxurious than we could see from the pictures. There was a double bed in the back next to a tiny bathroom with a shower. Across from the kitchen were bunks for James and Mike. The four of us could easily sit at a table for meals. Mike was eager to go for a drive, but we persuaded him to wait.
Matt wasn’t anxious to have us leave. We crowded into his Thunderbird and he drove us to Grant’s Farm to see the magnificent Budweiser Clydesdales. He asked one of the stable boys to hitch up his brake. With Matt at the reins, we toured the manicured rolling hills of the estate. He proudly showed off the rose garden and the paddock where the resident team of Clydesdales was housed. He explained that there are four teams stationed around the country. In the warm months the teams are on the road promoting Budweiser in parades and at county and state fairs. Matt pulled his rig to a stop saying seriously, “If you guys can do what I think you can, you may become the Clydesdales for Michelob. We’ve arranged for two PR photographers to follow you guys before, during and after the exhibition. Is that OK?”
Mike snapped, “In the shower, too?”
Matt’s retort, “Yes, but we’ll only show waist up on you. What you have would frighten people.”
“Fuck you, Matt Busch.”
“Anytime you wish, you pervert.”
“Enough,” I said, “We’ve got to be careful with the gay chatter ‘cause you never know whose listening.”
“Particularly, when Busch people are around,” Matt added.
“Are you staying with us at the hotel?”
“As much as I can without raising suspicions. I got you guys adjoining rooms with inside doors. There are two beds in each room. I’ll drop you guys off and be back later. I’ve got a date.”
“A date?”
“Yes, I have to keep up appearances. This isn’t New York.”
Matt returned about 11:00. James was in one bed and Mike in the other. Zack and I had the other room. In the middle of the night I noticed that Mike had moved into our room. I guess he wanted to give James and Matt some privacy. I heard them showering.
Our first scheduled exhibition was at 5:30 that evening. We got the equipment set up and went through our routine several times. Two young photographers were clicking away. We practiced our narration with the portable sound system. Our inaugural performance was preceded by Mr. Busch, toasting the crowd with a newly designed bottle of Michelob. The crowd was offered complimentary mugs that could be filled at the festival booth draped in colorful Michelob banners. He handed the microphone to Matt, who introduced us as the Michelob Boys. On cue, Mike and I bounded onto the stage doing a double flip, followed by our routine. James followed mounting the bars with athletic elegance. His body twirled as he removed one hand then the next. He ended with a hand-stand straight up before dismounting. Zack’s graceful, energetic pommel horse routine followed. The crowd generously applauded. Mike followed with a tight floor exercise. The performance space was small. He flipped, walked on his hands across the mat, before flipping to a standing position. Zack and I performed together on the parallel bars to the continuous applause of the audience. We took our bows, and could tell by the look on Mr. Klinfelter’s face that we had done well. We only had a few pictures left by the time the crowd moved away. James told Matt that we needed more pictures. Matt said he would have a big supply for the opening day crowd.
The three days flew by. After every exhibition we autographed pictures. We were exhausted. Without Matt we slept in on Monday and didn’t get to the river front until afternoon. One of the men from the brewery brought the motor home over and helped us load the equipment into the trailer, which was hitched to the motor home. When we opened the back doors we saw a portable stage in sections inside. It was a tight fit for the parallel bars, pommel horse and mats, but we made it work. Since none of us had ever been to Bloomington, Indiana we decided to head in that direction early Tuesday morning even though we didn’t have to be set up for their Blue Grass music festival until Thursday afternoon.
Rejuvenated we left St. Louis. James asked, “Where we going?”
“To the quarry where Zack and I first met. We’ll find a campground close to Columbus where the circus was performing when we had our first encounter.” Zack drove the unwieldy vehicle with the trailer tugging behind, while Mike slept. Zack found that the rig was heavy, making it slow to stop. He kept his speed at fifty-five. James and I followed in my truck. We got to Columbus by mid-afternoon, traveling along Highway 40. We encountered multiple delays because of road construction but had no vehicle problems. We stopped at the Chamber of Commerce and asked about a campground. With some hesitancy a plumpish woman with bright red hair, and equally bright red nail polish, directed us to Camp Buckwood which she said was a family camp. We didn’t understand her inference as the four of us stood before her. Zack and Mike left with the rig as James and I went to the super market. We had eaten in restaurants for a week and were ready to do own cooking.
The camp had recently opened and it being a weekday there were plenty of sites available with water and power. The woman, who checked us in, was curious why four guys were traveling in a motor home painted like a beer bottle. When she heard the reason she parked us prominently near the new swimming pool. The next morning we gathered towels, swim suits, sandwiches and several six-packs of Michelob and headed off in my pickup to find the quarry. Three years had changed things very little. The trees were thicker and the road leading to the quarry was more worn. We pulled up near the willow tree where I had parked my bicycle. Without speaking we stood surveying the natural setting. The summer breeze caused the moving willow leaves to whisper. The float was still there, and sun-covered rocks provided the diving platform. The quarry was as tranquil and peaceful as it was the Sunday afternoon that Zack and I met. Neither Mike nor James knew the story, so I said, “Guys, see that swimming platform. That is where Zack first sucked my cock.”
Mike said, “What the fuck? You brought us to the scene of the crime. Child molestation, punishable by five years.”
I protested, “It was consensual. Besides I was a minor, too. Strip off your clothes and let’s go for a swim. We hadn’t noticed anyone, but didn’t really care. Holding Zack’s hand, I led him across the soft grass to the cool, inky water. Mike and James splashed ahead of us. We swam out to the swimming dock and climbed up onto it. Zack grabbed my hips and pulled me toward his mouth. He licked my dick and took it into his mouth momentarily before leaping into the water.
James scowling said, “What was that all about?”
I said, “That was exactly as long as our first encounter took.”
“Did he come back? He didn’t finish the job?
“No. And I didn’t see him again until he came to my leaping class last year.”
Zack climbed back up onto the dock, “Want me to finish what I started?”
“In public? In front of James and Mike? I would be too embarrassed.”
“Oh please. You weren’t the first time…”
OK, but make it quick.” All four of us were in various states of arousal. Zack got on his knees and took my dick in his mouth. He began slowly moving in and out on my member which felt truly wonderful. I realized how uptight I had been leading up to St. Louis. I closed my eyes, and when I opened them, I saw Mike on his knees showing blushing James his talent. The sucking didn’t last long, because multiple hoots came from across the quarry. We quickly jumped or dove into the water. We hadn’t heard any vehicle, so we didn’t know where the hoots were coming from. Looking toward the opposite shore, we saw two girls and two guys in colorful, tie-died clothes, waving from the sycamore grove. They were undressing as fast as they could. One of the guys with long scraggly hair and a beard called, “Why’d you stop? We didn’t mean to stop the show.”
My heart was pounding knowing we’d been busted. We were treading water, when the bearded guy swam close to us with his girlfriend following. He said, “Sorry we scared you. We didn’t mean to. I told Chelsea that I want her to do that for me.” Chelsea frowned and pushed the guy’s head under water.
Looking puzzled Zack said, “There’s nothing bad about it. It’s fun.”
She said, “I don’t know. It seems gross.”
The other girl said, “It’s not so bad. Bart would rather have me suck him than fuck.” That comment brought nervous laughter from everyone, except Bart.
“Sharon, I do not.”
Before more comments, Zack said, “You guys want a beer. We have plenty.”
The eight of us swam toward tree shaded pickup. We stood around naked drinking Michelob. Bart said, “This is good stuff. I never heard of it.”
“We promote Michelob for Budweiser. Come see us in Bloomington at the music festival.”
The girls smiled nervously at each other. Bart said, “We’re one of the performing groups. We’re called the Weeping Weathervanes. Do you perform in the nude? Only kidding. What do you do?”
Laughingly, Zack said, “No, not naked. We do a gymnastic exhibition near the Michelob tent to draw festival patrons to the beer.”
“Sounds cool.” After more conversation Sharon and Bart and the other two said, “Goodbye,” and after genuine, full-body hugs, swam toward the swimming dock. Once on top Sharon dropped to her knees and took Bart’s dick into her mouth. We cheered. I would have loved to have been closer to see Bart’s face. By mid-afternoon we had enough, and drove back to the campground. We stayed to ourselves after we fixed hamburgers and chips. Sad faced Zack was unusually quiet. Something wasn’t right. When Mike went to the john, and James was cooking the burgers, I asked, “Something on your mind, you gorgeous hunk?”
“Randy, I wanted so badly to lay you on your back under that willow tree, bury myself inside you and stay there forever. I love you so much. Do you love me?”
“Don’t I say it often enough? Blame my German heritage. I’m perfectly ready to go back tomorrow, and do exactly what you said. Maybe the other guys’ll understand.” The idea of returning to the quarry came up after dinner. I sensed that Mike and James knew why we wanted to go back. They both said they would prefer to lounge around the pool.
Our first night sleeping in the camper was comfortable. We could hear the bugs buzzing and birds chirping early in the morning. They were outside and we were safely inside. Raindrops falling sounded like peddles but they cooled the air. After breakfast, Zack and I drove back to the quarry on a warm, sunny Thursday. We found three young boys swimming. We saw their naked butts scamper into the woods. As if remembering our first time, Zack smiled at me. He reached out his hand and pulled me into one of his most luxurious kisses. We undressed and swam to the swimming dock.
After sitting quietly, enjoying the warm boards we swam to the boulders. We climbed to the top. Zack dove first and I followed. We swam back to the swimming dock and held onto the ladder. I reached around Zack and touched his crack. He did the same for me. We swam toward my truck which was in the same shaded point where I parked yesterday. After drying off, Zack took a blanket out of the cab, and led me over to a clearing under a weeping willow tree. He cleared away a few twigs, spread the blanket out, before inviting me to sit down.
As he put his arms around me he said, “Randy, I am so happy. You make me so horny all the time.”
“Well, lover boy, my feelings are the same.” At that, he pulled me into another kiss, as he gently twisted my right nipple. I was instantly hard. He was down on me quickly. The foreplay was gentle as our bodies brushed each other. Slowly, he pushed me on my back to get into position to do what he had planned. We hadn’t made love for a couple of weeks so I was tight. He slowly moved his index finger to my crack. I felt something slippery so assumed he had brought KY or something similar. He slipped his digit inside and tickled my prostate. I closed my eyes waiting patiently as he widened the opening. He slipped his significant member up and down my crack.
I heard a branch snap, but I wasn’t going to be distracted. I knew we had an audience. Zack smiled at me, indicating he heard the same thing. He proceeded to push into me. He felt wonderful, once I accepted his entry. I opened my eyes as Zack instinctively slid in and out. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the three young boys with their little wieners sticking straight out not ten yards away. They were quiet, as they watched our man-sex. Zack’s movement was getting more intense. I stroked myself, to synchronize our climax. Zack seemed to be enjoying providing sex education for the boys, and giving me great pleasure at the same time.
I knew from his familiar sounds, that he was approaching his climax. I sped up my hand action to catch up with him. It worked as planned. I shot across his shoulder, as he pumped his cum into me. He kept going and grabbed my dick, causing me extreme pain and pleasure. The boys didn’t move. The smallest boy let out a “Whoa.”
Both Zack and I looked toward them and laughed. Still inside me Zack said, “Boys, Randy is my best friend in the world. We like giving each other pleasure.”
“Doesn’t it hurt?”
“A little, but if you go slow, it is wonderful. You guys are lucky, because you saw two people who really love each other.”
“But you’re guys. My mom said our preacher say that’s not right.”
“Well, I don’t know your mom or your preacher, but they’re wrong. Zack and I have been lovers a long time, just like your mom and dad.”
“I live with my mom, ‘cause my dad left us.”
Zack’s lesson continued, “Have you ever touched each other in your private place?” They each shook their heads from side to side. “Try it now. See how it feels.” The smallest boy reached out both his hands and took the other boy’s dicks. Zack rolled onto his side so that the boys could see his hard penis. The chubby boy took in a deep breath, “Oh my, that is better than me touching me.”
The other boy looked amazed, as he eyed Zack’s full size. “Mr. you’re really big. Will I ever get that big, when I’m your age?”
“Could be, but you have to keep masturbating to help it grow.” I smiled, as Zack spoke.
“What’s masturbating?” the little guy said.
“That is when you rub your wiener until it quivers and squirts some liquid out,” the biggest boy said.
“Like when I pee?”
“Not the same.” As his sex education talk proceeded Zack took our lube and put a little on each boy. He slowly rubbed each a little and placed their hand onto their own. He encouraged them to slide their hands back and forth. The chubby boy instinctively spread his legs. He was concentrating, as he successfully brought himself off, with a little clear liquid squeezing out. The smallest guy surprised us both as he shot a couple of feet from his body. The third boy wasn’t successful, but Zack told him that boys develop at different times. He told him that he would cum when his body was ready.
I could tell Zack wasn’t finished, when he said to the boys, “If you want to watch, you have to be quiet, because love making between two people is a private thing.” They shook their heads, as he took my dick in his mouth. He was sucking vigorously. The boy’s eyes were wide open, as each held his own stiff little member. Zack rolled onto his back, and took his knees in his hands. I knew what he wanted me to do. I slipped behind him on my belly, and went right after his asshole with my tongue. I loved doing this for him. His exaggerated moans and groans continued as my tongue gave his asshole a washing. I loosened him up, before going for my goal. The boys didn’t move, nor did they make a sound. When the end approached, I could feel the boys move closer. I came first, before Zack created a white pool in his belly button. The boys simultaneously shouted, “Whoa!” I collapsed on top of Zack. I pulled Zack up, and the five of us ran into the water to rise off. We offered the boys some cookies and lemonade which they happily took. We asked their names. The chubby boy’s name was Marshall, he said, “This may sound corny but thanks for telling use things our parents won’t.”
As Zack and I drove back to the campground, we discussed whether we should do what we did with little Stan. We concluded would but not until time was right. After another night in the campground we drove to Bloomington. We saw the Weeping Weathervanes perform and enjoyed their company several times. There was always plenty of Michelob drunk. The festival was crowded and the weather was perfect. After that country and folk music festival, we spent a week in Chicago at Grant Park, listening to many different kinds of music. Matt had arrived before us, and had booked a suite across from Grant Park at the Conrad Hilton. He and two friends met us when we arrived. After the equipment was unloaded, we parked the motor home and my truck down at Soldiers Field. Zack, James and I were happy to be in Chicago, because we had heard about the gay clubs. Matt explained that our exhibitions would not be close to the Michelob beer garden. Mike suggested that we autograph pictures at the beer stand after each performance. Initially, Matt was concerned that James, Mike and Zack couldn’t go into the beer garden, because they were under age. The off-duty Chicago cop manning the entrance didn’t ask us for ID’s after our first performance. He smiled as we went into the tent.
The performances took place every day three times a day, for a week. We were exhausted, not only because the weather was really hot, but also because Matt had a party every night in our suite, after we returned from the clubs. From the first night, James slept with Matt in the master suite. Mike was without anyone, which didn’t bother him. When two of Matt’s female friends dropped by, they quickly took Mike into their care. He was unusually tired the next day.
Zack and I were curious about what was going on between Matt and James. James joined us for breakfast away from the hotel, near the end of the week. Mike slept late, recuperating from an all-night orgy. After ordering Zack said, “James, tell us how it’s going with Matt.”
“God, he’s wonderful. But he seems so afraid we’re becoming too much in love. He is sure he’ll be disowned, if anyone finds out he’s gay.”
“He’s not worried about his friends knowing. He hopes they keep their mouths shut. I would spend the rest of my life with him, but I know that isn’t going to happen. I’m realistic. He’ll get tired of me sooner or later.”
Trying to be encouraging I said, “Maybe not.”
“I’m not willing to be his plaything forever. For now, it’s working fine.”
“How’s he in bed, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Let’s say our sexual activities have been limited, but we’re making progress. I’m not sure he understands that a partner has needs, too. He wants me to do him. I mean, I rim him, which he loves, I fuck him, I suck him, and finally he comes. He helps me cum but I’ve a sense that’s a bit of a bother for him. It’s fine for now.”
“What you said doesn’t surprise me. He’s a poor-little-rich-boy.”
Chicago was open and friendly. We did one gay bar after another for the week. The Gentry on Rush was the best partly because it was the closest. We went to Legacy 21 to celebrate my 21st birthday and, like all the other bars, no one was asked for an ID. We saw leather guys and guys called drag queens in gorgeous clothes at the Baton. Matt and his bevy of friends were with us, wherever we went. Our suite was a sexual Grand Central Station. Zack and I regularly had to roust people out of our bed, so we could go to sleep. Everything was paid for, but it had its costs, too. Matt took us to the finest restaurants – Le Perroque for French food and the Cape Cod Room at the Drake Hotel for seafood. And then, the festival and Matt’s orgies came to an end on Sunday.
Monday morning, he and two friends left for St. Louis in his red Thunderbird. Zack drove the motor home, and I followed him on the short trip to get ready for Milwaukee’s German Heritage celebration. We didn’t see Matt again until early August in Cincinnati, but we didn’t miss him. We were so busy. Our schedule was more taxing than the circus’. We were the crew and the entertainers. Our audiences couldn’t get enough of us. We got stronger, and our muscles were bulging. Mike’s gut was like a washboard, and he was golden brown from so many performances outdoors. James’ glorious male features seemed to grow more awesome with each passing day. His routine was graceful. His blue eyes sparkled when he dismounted the pommel horse, which he did with a flourish, as he thrust his arms into the air. My wonderful Zack was the anchor. He could get us up, when we were down or discouraged. He complimented me daily, as I got more adventurous on the parallel bars. We regularly called home and talked to Joyce or Betty, to see how Stan was doing. He always wanted to talk to me or Mike. Joyce was taking him to the swimming pool for lessons, which he loved. She told us that he was becoming a proficient four year old swimmer.
We regularly checked in with Coach. He was anxious to see us and decided to drive to Kansas City, where he had relatives, to check out the routine. When Coach caught up with us he was more than impressed with our routines. He felt we had a good chance of winning the Missouri Valley gymnastic title. I reminded him that I was going for best act in the Gamma Phi circus. He said, “That, too.” After Coach left us, we had two more festivals with the next one being in New Orleans. To Mike’s surprise Vicki showed up with little Stan. Rather than stay in a hotel, we parked the motor home next to a guest house. Marjorie, the owner, let us hook up to her water and electricity and use the pool as long as we rented at least one room. That meant we had a full bathroom with a roomy shower. Instead of money, she wanted four cases of Michelob as payment which we could easily provide.
For some privacy, Mike and Vicki took the rented room and little Stan stayed with us. After a hot, muggy Saturday afternoon exhibition, we were sitting by the pool drinking cooled Michelob, and watching Stan splash around. Mike said to Vicki, “Why are you here? Is the circus over?”
“No, I missed you guys. They really didn’t need my double somersault, since my eight year old cousin could hit it almost every time.”
“So you went to Normal to check on Stan?”
“Yes, and when I got there, I got a sense that Joyce and Betty needed a break. I doubt Betty wants to continue as Stan’s caregiver. She’s sixty-five, and wants to move back to Memphis. Anyway, Stan and I left a couple of days ago. We caught up with my parents and the circus in Cape Girardeau, Missouri. Stan was a good traveler, especially since he knew he was going to see you guys. This is your last gig, right?”
“No, we have one more, over Labor Day in St. Louis. Its right before school starts but we agreed to do it, because the money is so good. Anyway, James is trying to decide whether he wants to keep his affair with Matt Busch going.”
“So they’ve become an item?”
“Yes, but as James tells us, it’s one-sided.”
“Are you guys going to do this again next year?”
“The company, Anheuser Busch, wants us to turn professional. But we’ve told them that we want to win the Missouri Valley title, before we decide. They want to sponsor us on the pro circuit.”
Stan came running up naked, and handed Vicki his swimming suit. He said, “Randy come swim with me. Take off your clothes.” I followed his order, as everyone looked on. I wondered how long this kid was going to be so uninhibited. I hoped that it wouldn’t come to an end too quickly.
As I stood naked in front of the group Vicki smirked, “I see what three performances a day has done for your body. Whoa!” I could feel my face turning red.
In a few minutes all six of us were splashing around. Stan loved it when we threw him in the air from one to another. Marjorie looked on smiling. We were in a happy place.
New Orleans was hot and humid. James slipped off the handles of the pommel horse, and twisted his ankle. No matter how much rosin we used the bars were still sticky. These were not our best performances, but the inebriated crowd yelled praise after each of our routines. We were glad to be finished but the Michelob Boys filled many steins.
On the last night, we went to Galatoire Restaurant in the French Quarter. Marjorie happily agreed to babysit Stan. The mood was festive, as we told stories while we ate etouffee and shrimp jambalaya. Financially, we were in excellent shape with more than $5000 in the bank. We popped open two bottles of expensive Moet champagne. Before dessert, Mike clicked on his glass. He said, “I have an announcement to make.” We quieted down. “Vicki and I have decided to get married. We got careless, and she is going to have a baby in March.” Vicki’s face was beet red. She looked like she was going to slap Mike.
She spat, “We’re not getting married because I’m pregnant. We are getting married because we love each other. Right, jerk?”
Mike was blushing, “Sorry, Vicki, I said, too much. Anyway we think it will be good for Stan to have a baby sister or brother around the house.”
Zack said, “So, you are staying with us and not getting your own place?”
“Sure. We didn’t consider otherwise. Should we?”
“No, we want you to stay. We have to practice for the Missouri Valley Conference championships and Gamma Phi. If you move, it wouldn’t be so easy getting your ass out of bed for practice.” With laughter, we ended our mouth-watering Cajun dinner. We saw the Busch guys who slapped us on the backs as we prepared to leave. They said they would see us in St. Louis.
We stopped in St. Louis and found out the event had to be rescheduled. We dropped off the motor home. With my truck and Vicki’s car we made the trip back to Normal. The brewery took the responsibility of getting the equipment back to Coach in Normal. Matt invited us to stay in his condo, overlooking the Mississippi River. He was polite, but seemed put off by Vicki and Stan. We declined. We stayed at the Holiday Inn, except for James who stayed with Matt. James surprised us the following morning, when he drove up in a brand new, navy blue Pontiac GTO. Zack snapped, “So that’s how you decided to use your money?”
“No, it’s a gift from Matt. We decided to split up. He’s not able or ready, to settle down. And that’s what I want. We agreed to stay friends. I’ve learned so much from him. I love him, but he’s not partner material.”
Zack and I looked at each other, and smiled. W knew he was totally in love with Matt, despite all of his faults. But James was being realistic. I knew we would have some counseling to do with him if we planned to win the conference championship.
The fall semester began our senior year, even though only Mike and Zack would finish on time. Even with anticipated rigorous gymnastic practices, followed by equally challenging leaping classes, we decided to take full course loads. At the urging of Mr. Klinfelter, we agreed to do two fall exhibitions, in conjunction with October-fests in Iowa City, Iowa and Milwaukee. The brewery agreed to drive the motor home and equipment to Iowa City. To our surprise jovial, happy Matt was there, when we arrived. James told us that he and Matt would be staying at the new Holiday Inn in Iowa City. That didn’t seem like the best environment for James but I didn’t say anything.
Matt parked the motor home in a university parking lot, next to the old State Capitol. The weather was clear and cool and the crowds, enthusiastic. Before Saturday afternoon’s exhibition, I recognized the gymnastics coach from the recently renamed Northern Iowa, University plus several members of the team. State College, now Northern Iowa, is our main competition for the conference title. I called Zack, James and Mike over for a quick conference to consider altering our routine. We decided the opposite. We set out to scare them, as we started butterfly twirling, exaggerated flipping and elegant swooping rotations on the bars. After the exhibition the coach and the guys walked toward us. The coach said, “You guys are impressive. I presume we’ll see the four of you at the winter meet in Normal?”
Zack said, “We’ll be there.”
The coach jokingly followed up with, “That’s too bad.” We laughed, and the team members joined in with strained laughter. On Sunday afternoon we were exhausted but energized by the many enthusiastic students we met. I drove with Zack in James’ new GTO. Matt and James drove the motor home to Normal, and stayed in it overnight in Doc’s driveway. Both had red eyes the following cloudy morning, as James took Matt to the train station. When James returned the downturned corners of his bright red lips told the story. Zack hugged him. “So how was it with Matt?”
“The same. Good sex. Good discussion. He can’t live with me, because of his family. He wants to continue to see me. He agreed that I can date whoever I want, as long as he and I can get together. He invited me to go to Mexico over Easter break. I told him I’d think about it. I know he’ll have his minions along.
“You mean ass-kissers.”
“Well, they’re his friends. He can have friends, too. Guys, I care more about you, than I do him. It was fun going out with someone who took such good care of me.”
When we walked into the family room Doc and Boris were watching Monday Night Football. Stan got up from his toys and ran to James, who swooped him up and kissed him on both cheeks. Vicky and Mike were in the kitchen fixing, our first family dinner in months. Once Joyce arrived our family was complete.
For us, the Milwaukee event was a wash-out, because of cold, rainy weather. After we unloaded the equipment, with coach’s permission, we parked the motor home behind the gym. It would remain there until someone from St. Louis came up to drive it back. I was surprised, when Matt got off of the train. I drove him directly to the motor home. He said he had to get going, because he had a lot of work to do in St. Louis. James didn’t seem upset, when I told him.
Our daily routine was study and practice, six days a week. The leaping class was going well. We brought a new girl, Martha, into the advanced class to replace Stephanie. She was from a circus family, like Vicky. She was athletic and really small, standing less than five feet tall. She had dark brown eyes which matched her darker skin tone. Her shiny black hair was pulled into a tight bun whenever we practiced. Vicky kept practicing with us, until two months before the baby was due. The doctor insisted that she stop at Christmas. She hoped to be back on the bar, before the Gamma Phi audition in April.
Doc continued to tutor Zack in chemistry and biology. He tried to convince Zack to consider veterinary medicine, but Zack didn’t think he would make enough money. Doc took Zack to the Vet School in Champaign to meet the faculty. Zack came home totally excited. He said jokingly, in front of Doc, “I found out that veterinary medicine is more than sticking your arm up a horse’s ass.” Shortly after the New Year Zack got admitted to the University of Illinois vet school and to the U of I medical school in Chicago. We discussed his choice for hours. I wanted him to do, what he wanted to do as long as I could go with him. I wasn’t going to graduate, but knew I could transfer wherever, Zack went. Coach assured me that there would be work in some athletic department, with the recommendation that he planned to write for me.