WE BEGIN A LITTLE EARLIER THAN WE LEFT OFF LAST NIGHT....
“I don’t like Cody. Not like that. He wanted some fun. He likes you, like in a real way. He said that. We fucked. I fucked him first and then he fucked me. I liked that, but that’s not love.”
	Russell’s mind reeled. All day he had been thinking not only of the night before, but of all his meetings with Jason, and the jarring events of the party last school year.
“Ralph!” Gilead started.
	“Shush!” Ralph warned, “I’m keeping guard.”
	“Over?” Gilead said.
	“Jason,” Ralph hissed and pointed into the pantry.
	Russell heard it before Gilead looked into the darkness. Russell’s eyes adjusted to Jason, in the back of the pantry, his trousers down around his ankles, his white boxers around his knees, fucking some girl, her legs rising to encompass his waist, falling, rising up again as he drove himself steadily into her and she cried out in light pants. Russell could not stop looking. There was fierce concentration and loveliness on Jason’s handsome face, a light trickle of sweat. The girl’s hands were pushing frantically through his black curls. Her pale hands were pulling up his shirt, reaching down to caress his ass. Russell saw his ass. 
	His dick was hard.
	Russell felt himself breathing harder and was embarrassed to realize Ralph was right beside him, watching.
	Jason’s grey-green eyes turned to them, while he was fucking, looked fiercely on Russell while the girl moaned, and Russell felt all of himself turn red, felt the erection wither. Where was Gilead? 
	“Ey, Lewis, you like?” Jason’s voice was cruel as if he had caught Russell and not the other way around. “Watch this, Lewis.”
	Jason, put his hand to the girl’s face so that she was turned away from him, and then suddenly he pushed her down into the floor and started to jackhammering her so she cried out frantically.
	“You like?” Jason hissed. “You like? You like?” And Russell didn’t know who Jason Lorry was talking to. “You like it, Lewis? How’s it feel, Russell Lewis? Take it, Russ! Take it, Russ. Take my cock! Take my fucking cock, Russ! Take it! Take…Oh, God! Jeeeesusss—” and then he shouted, gasped, and Russell saw Jason’s eyes widen, his face lose control. Russell felt Gilead’s hand tug at his wrist and pull him away. Everything was dizzy to Russell.
When Russell had finally gotten home, he told himself he needed to shower, but all he’d done was pee and then climb into the deep covers of his bed. It was barely spring and cold then, and he’d spent the morning masturbating to the look on Jason’s face. Every time he’d come in his hands or on his bed sheets, he’d been humiliated that the person who despised him so truly made him come so quickly. But he hadn’t stopped masturbating, and now Jason liked him, had always liked him, wanted Russell to come to him and spend the night in his bed.
	Russell’s face was hot and he felt almost sick because the moment Ralph had said he’d fucked Cody, he had wanted to fuck Ralph. He wanted to fuck Cody too. And remembering last year, he knew, he knew, he knew, he wanted Jason Lorry to fuck him before the night was through.
	“Jason kissed me.”
	Ralph blinked at Russell.
	Ralph had looked confused, upset, offended, worried. Now he looked soft.
	“Russell, don’t hurt him,” Ralph said.
	“What? What are you….?”
	“I don’t know if anyone could survive you. You…. People love you. I love you. And you’re kind of a hurricane.”
	“I am not. You… You don’t have the right to say that about me,” Russell said.
	“I would never hurt… I never could. I would never… not love him.”
	“But I think your love is strong,” Ralph said. 
	“Everything you do is so strong. The way he feels about you…. You’re a lot for a tiny mortal.”
	“You’re being ridiculous, Ralph. And… I’ve never been strong.”
Ralph blew out air from his nostrils.
	“You’re a moron, Lewis. Except for maybe Gilead, you’re the strongest person I know.”
	
When Ralph had dropped him off at home, Russell was humming, now not so much full of confusion as resolve. There was the possibility of bed that called to him even as he heard Ralph’s car rumbling down Breckinridge, and yet the night was still alive. The house was not. It was all in darkness. Mom must have gone to bed. Upstairs Dad was working at the computer in his little side office. Russell entered.
	Thom continued to type a little, and then he turned around and said, “Russell, if I’ve ever hurt you—no, scratch that. I’m sorry for all the times I hurt you. I want you to know that. I love you.”
	“I love you too, Dad,” Russell said.   
	Thom said, “I need a cigarette.” 
	He rattled his empty pack of Reds.
	Thoughtlessly, Russell took out his and handed them over, and only when he saw the look on Thom’s face did he realize he’d given away the habit he’d been hiding.
	“Well,” Thom looked as if he’d given up on discipline, “you picked the right time to let me know.” 
	He took out one of Russell’s cigarettes, lit it, inhaled, took out another, put it in the other corner of his mouth, lit it, inhaled until the tip glowed red, and then took it out and, sacramentally placed it between the lips of his son, handing Russell the rest of the pack.
	Thom laid back in his office chair, stretching full out, his head looking at the ceiling while he watched smoke tendril from his mouth and make greyish patterns on the white plaster. Russell sat on the floor, back against the wall, knees to his chest. Thom pushed over another ashtray for his son. 
	If I actually think about what we’re doing, I won’t be able to believe it anyway, and as if he’d been doing it a lifetime, Russell smoked in his father’s presence.
	“Life doesn’t make any sense,” Russell said.
	“No,” Thom agreed. 
	“The thing is,” Thom said, “you have to make it make sense for you.”
	“I might as well tell you I’m probably gay.”
	“Well….” Thom exhaled again, “Well…”
	“What?”
	“I guess I won’t be counting on you for grandchildren.”
	“Do you mind if I go out?”
	“Tonight?”
	“Yes,” said Russell.
	“Is it to make the world make sense?”
	“Yes.”
	Thom nodded, still looking at the ceiling.
	“I can accept that.”
He walked the two blocks down, one up and then across that he remembered from just this morning when everything had changed and Caroline’s baby had been born. This morning last night had seemed like a dream, but now all of life was a hothouse dream where anything could happen if you let it, and maybe that was what life was, only most people never saw this. He went up the long walk and unhooked the gate, and he loved the jasmine smell of the garden. He heard the tinkling trickle of the fountain in the pool and passed the lit solarium, its shades pulled. He tapped on the window of the little wing that came out from the house, and the slats opened. The most handsome face he’d ever seen, the face that had haunted him since 
Freshmen year, looked out at him smiling, and then the slats fell, and a moment later Russell heard a side door opening.
	Jason stood there, the dark hair going up his lovely thighs as he wore only black briefs fitting snug to his body, and the blond tail of the golden retriever beat his dark ankles and the hem of Russell’s khaki’s like it had this morning, Russell reached out his hands and placed them in Jason’s black hair, pulling Jason to him and kissed him. He entered the darkness of the little hallway leading to Jason’s room as Jason, kissing him deeply, embraced him, and then reaching up a little, Jason Lorry closed the door behind them.
He was afraid. Tomorrow morning he could go through his mind and realize why, pick apart everything about this moment, walking down the dark hall with Jason, his fingers linked into Jason Lorry’s soft fingers he was more scared than he’d ever been. The dog padded around them and Russel thought there had been many times he had gone to places he didn’t want to go and done things he didn’t want to do and that was a different type of fear, not this soaring fear where he thought if his emotions ran any higher he wouldn’t be able to the breath. 
	“You came to me, Russell. You came to me.”
	The darkness ended when they came into Jason’s room, and he gently shut the door and the dog out so it was only hi mand Russell and the fairy lights strung about Jason bent down wolfishly kissing him, his hands on his shoulders and down his sides and back again. He’d seen Jason with girls and Jason at school, hanging with the boys, looking cool, but Jason was hungry now and almost sloppy. Russell wanted to slip out of his mind, slip out of this analytical place to the place he’d been before. He didn’t want this to stop, didn’t want Jason’s kisses on his eyes and his mouth, his hands on him to end. But he wanted this consciousness to end, this monologuing in his brain.
	“You came to me!” Jason kept saying, as he kissed Russell. “You came to me.”
	He stopped kissing Russell for a moment, and he said, “Are you alright? Did I do something wrong?”
	“No,” Russell said. Then: No! It’s just…. I’m nervous. I’ve…I did come to you. I’ve never done… anything. It’s a lot. You know?”
	“You don’t have to,” Jason said. “You know… If you don’t want to.”
	Russell knew that Jason didn’t mean that, or rather, he knew that Jason didn’t want that. He didn’t want that either. He’d left the house for a reason, knowing where he was going and what would happen.
	“It isn’t that,” Russell said now. “I just… we have all night.”
	“Of course we do!” Jason said eagerly. “We have all the time that you want.”
	Russell remembered listening to two girls talk on the phone and one saying, before I got with him we had a talk I wanted to know who he’d been with and how many people and where, we really had that talk….”
	Russell had suspected that such a talk didn’t mean anything or lead anywhere, and at this moment Russell wasn’t greatly curious about anyone else who had been to Jason’s room or to the seventeen year old boy’s bed. This moment was about him, and in the time where quiet had come back to the room, a power he had not felt until last night—or very early morning here—returned to him, He remembered the need, the desire, the sort of revelation of lust that had come to him kissing Jason this morning, and of Ralph saying, don’t hurt him. He had, in this moment, a glimpse of who he was, not of the loser he thought he was, but who he was. 
	Jason, shirtlyess, brown chested, with his glossy black hair and black eyes was looking at him, expectantly, and in the dim light of the room, Russell lifted his tee shirt and folded it and put it in the chair, and then he quietly unbuckled his belt and pulled down his thick long khakis. His clothes had been an armor to hide him, but this was another type of armor he was find and he promised himself he would never wear these baggy boxers again as he pulled them off and just for a moment stood naked before Jason. Without touching him, he walked past him into the darkness of the bedroom, and he heard Jason’s feet pad toward him. Russell had pulled the covers over himself, with the air conditioning on in the large house, it was not too hot, but now he pulled them up and welcomed Jason into his own bed. He could not see, but in the darkness his sound was like sight and he helped Jason pull away his shorts, felt the heat of penis rising, pulled Jason between his legs, pulled his mouth down for kissed and thrust his fingers into Jason’s curls. The fire built up in his stomach and rose out of his chest in this joy in the darkness as he linked himself to Jason and.. also… he felt distantly, as he forever left the place of not knowing, not understanding what this was like? Only dimly did the picture of Cody and Ralph move through his mind, could it have been like this, this eager runnings over each other, this hot kissing, lips clinging to lips, tongues twining, the shock of Jason’s mouth on him, sucking him, the shock of his own pleasure, how it did not last for only a moment, but how Jason did not stop nursing on him until weakly, Russell pleaded to do it himself, until here unfolded the meaning of dirty whispers “sixty nine”, here in this bed where nothing was dirty, where there was only joy and need and the joyful feeding of need, where he was shocked by Jason’s finger inside of him, and then his tongue.
	His eyes adjusted to the dark, his hands longed to run down Jason’s shoulders, down his back down the small of his spine. He longed to get his fill of looking at the ass he’d always wondered about, been ashamed of wondering about. He remembered Jason;s hand on his ass, pinching it, saying, “firm, honey”, and he remembered Jason, just now, inside of him and his mouth moved to be inside of Jason, was surprisied by the welcome he felt, thrusting his tongue deeper and deeper into him. Russell wasn’t sure how long any of this lasted. He wasn’t sure how long it was before they were like spoons and Russell pressed himself against Jason feeling the cock he had grown to love and desire pressed against him.
	“I don’t have a condom,” Jason whispered. “I just got lube.”
	“Do it,” Russell said to him.
	“Are you sure—?”
	Russell reached back and pressed Jason’s ass, pressing him to be inside of him.
	“I wanna do it so bad.”
	“Do it like when you were doing it to that girl at the party—”
	“Don’t say that Russell.”
	“But when you were looking at me. Do it to me like that.”
	“I’m gonna use lots of lube, okay? Cause it might hurt a little.”
	But when Jason began to lube up, laughing nervously, saying, “I’m getting it all on the sheets,” Russell reached back and began to stroke him, feeling Jason go harder, feeling the already firm penis take more shape, the roundness of his bland, rounding like a helmbet, the veins under his cock rising, He slipped the lube in himself and then guided Jason in, and Jason’s thigh draped over Russell.
	“Breathe in, okay,” Jason said.
	Russell understood that Jason hadn’t learned this from fucking other boys. He’d pretty much been with girls, sometimes grown women. Jason had learned this from being fucked and somehow this made things better. Russell breathed in and they both closed their eyes and were quiet at the joining. Both of them grimaced, fitting together, and Jason whispered, “Do you want me to stop?”
	“No.”
	It hurt. It wasn’t like anything Russell could have imagined except he did imagine it would hurt. But he did not imagine all of these nerves in him, or the sensation which was beyond physical of being filled with another human being. He closed around Jason, who gave a groan of not quite pleasure and Russell tightened his eyes feeling something that was definitely pain and yet definitely the sense of being held, caressed, kissed, breathed upon, by someone so close they were inside of him. They were like that for a while, and Russell wondered if Jason was afraid of hurting him. It was he who pushed back, who began the rhythm, and he who had seen and heard things, who put Jason gently on his back and began to push down, to feel him as deep as he could, to squeeze him and see the pleasure and wonder in the dark on Jason Lorry’s face. Jason reached up to him, mouth open and after a while, after it felt so good, Jason asked, “Can I… Can I?”
	He didn’t need to ask more, and having been entered the first time it was easier the second. Russell lay on his stomach his face in the pillow filled with the spicy smell of Jason.
	“Pound me,” he whispered, and Jason did and the pleasure of the bed shaking, the two of them shaking pushing back, bound together, the pleasure of being pressed by Jason’s love and desire, kissed over and over again stroked while being fucked and fucked made Rusell want to cry out. 
	“I’m going to… I’m going to…” Jason began.
	“Do it.”
	But at the same time he felt Jason’s cock swelling and jumping like a heartbeat, at the same moment he felt himself pumped with hot seed, he shuddered as his own body gave way and he knew he was coming all against his stomach, all over the bedsheets. 
TOMORROW NIGHT: THE BOOK OF THE BURNING