Times like that were good, because most every time when I came out, Dad wouldn’t yell at me and, if I stood by Paul’s chair, Paul would stroke my ...air or my back, absentmindedly. As young as I was, I wished I had a way to tell him how much that meant to me. Many evenings, Paul would have dinner with us, others he would I guess go home. When Mom went back to work full time, I would sometimes have a sitter of sorts when I got home from school. I say “of sorts”, because it was Mrs. DeCarlo. He always knew how to tease me, I bit the corner of my lip as he lifted my shirt over my head. I stared at his body running my fingers up and down his arms, and tugging lightly at them wanting his body against mine again. He wrapped his arms around my back pulling me up against him, my eyes stared into his before kissing him again. I wanted him–bad. I always did, James’s arms held me firmly against his body as he kissed my neck. I tilted my head and gripped the back of his hair. James’s lips. More

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