The Page Turner 4

If the idea of two men loving each other and expressing that love in a sexual manner offends you, then you have clearly come to the wrong place. Feel free to leave.

The Page Turner

-4-

After they came in from the back yard, Tom went to his bedroom, stripped to his shorts, and took a nap. As far as he knew, Noah was planning to do the same.

He woke up just after three and went to the bathroom to relieve himself. Then he went in search of Noah and found him in bed, lying on his stomach, head turned to the wall, obviously out cold.

Noah was clad only in jockey shorts which clung to his bubble butt in all the right places. He stood in the doorway for a long time, studying with interest the twin globes of Noah’s butt and every detail of the young body sprawled on the bed. His mind wandered from interest to desire and finally, to lust. His erection popped through the fly of his shorts.

You are not going to get involved with this kid, he admonished himself. The plan you have laid out for the next five years of your life doesn’t have room for either relationships or romance.

Yeah right, he thought, looking down at his erection. I know that, but you sure as hell don’t.

He went back to his room, pulled off his shorts, and made the problem go away. Problem dealt with, he lay on his bed reflecting on the previous two days.

It doesn’t happen this quickly in real life, does it, he thought. Get a grip, he admonished himself. He willed himself not to let it happen, thinking it’s just lust and it will pass.

He went to the bathroom, and with a warm wash cloth, cleaned up the mess he had made on his abdomen and chest. He looked closely at his face in the mirror. Shit, there was a white blob on his chin. When was the last time that had happened, he wondered. He rinsed the wash cloth with more warm water, washed his face, and returned to his bedroom

He went back to Noah’s room, fully dressed this time, touched Noah on the shoulder and said, “Wake up, sleeping beauty, it’s time to go and swim some laps.”

Noah jumped, and sat up, “What?”

“Sorry to startle you,” Tom said. “It’s after three. Ready to go swim some laps?”

“Sure,” Noah said, “give me a minute.”

“No problem,” Tom said. “All you need is your gym bag, your bathing suit, and a towel. Do you have goggles?”

“No.”

“No problem,” Tom said, “I’ve got an extra pair.”

They parked in Tom’s reserved spot at the church and walked around to the pool entrance. Just inside the door, an attendant sat behind a small desk.

“Hi, Tom,” the man said.

“Hello, Frank,” Tom said, “this is Noah. He’s just joined the choir, and needs a pool card.”

“Sure,” Frank said. Give me a minute. He opened a desk drawer and removed a small card. He handed it to Noah saying, “Just print your name on the card.”

Noah followed his instructions, thanked him, and Tom led him to the locker room.

“I didn’t think to bring a lock,” Noah said.

“Not a problem,” Tom said, “we can double up in one locker.”

They quickly stripped and donned their suits, Tom wore speedos, but Noah was wearing old-fashioned trunks that drooped almost to his knees.

He snapped the lock shut on the locker and slipped his wrist through a flexible plastic bracelet that held the key. Then he grabbed his towel and said, “We’re required to take a quick rinse in the shower before we enter the pool.”

In the pool, they settled down into a steady rhythm of laps. As usual, he counted the laps until he was satisfied that he had done a mile. He stood up in the shallow end of the pool and waited for Noah to catch up with him.

Noah saw him standing there and swam up to him. “You’re a lot faster than I am,” he said.

“That’s because of those God awful trunks you’re wearing,” Tom said. “Wearing trunks like those when you swim laps is like dragging an anchor through the water behind you. With a pair of speedos, you’ll slide through the water a lot faster. Besides, you’ve got a great body and it’s a sin to hide so much of it under all that cloth.”

“How far did we swim?” Noah said, ignoring the compliment.

“According to my count of the laps, a little over a mile.”

“That was a good workout.”

“You bet,” Tom said. “Ready to wash off all this chlorine?”

“Oh yeah.”

They entered the shower room and pulled off their suits. He positioned himself under a shower head in such a way that he could casually eyeball Noah without being brazen about it, noting that his new roomie was, as they say, well equipped.

What’s that about he wondered, as the thought went through his head. You’ve never been a size queen. Stop it, he admonished himself yet again. You’re not going to go there.

When they arrived at the house, they hung their wet suits and their towels on a rack that was situated over the dryer in the tiny laundry room.

“How hungry are you?” Tom said.

“I could eat,” Noah said, “but I don’t think I should go out on that stage with a full stomach.”

“How about a bowl of chicken noodle soup now, and a late dinner after the performance?”

“Sounds good.”

He prepared the soup and he and Noah ate it in relative silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Finally, it was time to get ready for the performance, so he cleared the table and Noah rinsed out the soup bowls.

“I don’t really need a shave,” Tom said, rubbing his chin, “but I’m going to give myself a quick once over anyway.”

He went to the bathroom, took care of that problem, opting to take a quick shower as well. When he emerged from the shower, he smelled of his favorite shower gel. Back in his bedroom, he dressed slowly and carefully. He gave himself a thorough inspection using a full-length mirror and decided that he was ready.

He walked to Noah’s bedroom door, knocked and said, “Are you homesteading in there? We need to leave in fifteen minutes.”

* * *

Noah had been frantically trying to get his necktie to hang evenly, but after four failed attempts the narrow end was still hanging lower than the wide end, and he was convinced it wasn’t ever going to cooperate. He opened his door and looked at Tom.

God, he’s gorgeous in that tuxedo, Noah thought.

“Can you help me with this tie?” he said. “I just can’t get the thing to hang right.”

“Sure,” Tom said. “Go stand in front of the mirror.”

Noah stood in front of the mirror, staring at himself. His dark navy suit was only six months old, and he had to admit that it looked good on him. Tom slipped up behind him and said, “Hold your hands straight out from your sides, please.”

Noah did as instructed, and felt a body press up against his back, as Tom’s strong arms reached around him and began to work on the recalcitrant necktie. The sensations got away with him and he sprang an instant boner.

Oh, Lord, he thought. Why now? Thank God I’m wearing jockey shorts tonight, instead of boxers. Oh my God, I feel a lump pushing against my butt. Could Tom be hard as well?

He fought for self control, and by the time Tom had the necktie problem resolved, his erection had mercifully receded. Tom stepped to one side of Noah and said, “We make a handsome pair, don’t we?”

“What?” Noah said, his mind wandering.

“You can put your arms down now,” Tom said.

“Oh,” he said. “Sorry about that, I guess I zoned out for a minute.”

“You can do that here and now, but not on the stage this evening,” Tom said, giving him a serious look.

“I’ll be a poster-boy for concentration on stage,” Noah said.

“Good,” Tom said, “I’ll hold you to it. Ready to rock and roll?”

“Sure.”

Tom ducked into the studio and returned holding the drawstrings of the cloth bag containing his organ shoes.

“Aren’t you forgetting something, page turner?” Tom said.

“What?” he said. “Oh yeah, the briefcase.” He retrieved it and set it on the coffee table long enough to confirm that its contents were still intact and in order.

“Good,” Tom said. “Let’s head downtown.”

At the Hall, a security guard allowed Tom to park in a reserved spot at the rear of the building. They entered the building through the same side door, and Tom led the way to what he referred to as the backstage waiting area. It was a fair sized sitting room that contained a couple of comfortable sofas and three or four wingback chairs.

Eventually, a man came to the door and said, “Ten minutes.”

“Thanks,” Tom said. “Noah, if you need a last-minute pit stop, now’s the time.”

“Yeah,” he said, “I think I do. Show me where.”

“Through that door,” Tom said, and pointed.

He went to the restroom and relieved himself. As soon as he was back in the room, Tom excused himself to do the same. Finally, the man came back to the door and said, “You’re on.”

They waited in the wings while the house lights were flashed two or three times to get the audience’s attention, then Tom walked out onto the stage and bowed. While the audience was focused on Tom, Noah walked quickly to the organ console. He placed his stack of music in the same spot he had done that morning, and carefully arranged the first piece of music on the music rack.

He sat down in a chair next to the console and waited for Tom to take his place on the bench. As casually as he could manage, he looked around the Hall. It was constructed in what was referred to as a European ‘shoe box’ design, and was indeed shaped pretty much like the inside of a shoe box. There were rows of seats on the main floor, and the balcony ran around all four sides of the room. He knew this from studying pictures, and was trying very hard not to gawk at his surroundings

As the house lights dimmed, he watched Tom settle himself in place and wiggle around a bit until he seemed comfortable. Tom pushed the buttons below the keyboard to set the stops, and nodded to Noah. He stood up, walked to his position at Tom’s right, and the recital began. He quickly forgot about his surroundings and immersed himself in the notes on the pages in front of Tom.

Noah knew that with pauses for bows and applause and a fifteen minute intermission, the Recital would last just under two hours, but it seemed to be over almost in no time. As far as he could tell, Tom had played flawlessly. Evidently, the audience thought so too, because Tom went through all three of his planned encores. Finally, Tom took his final bows and waved his hand grandly in Noah’s direction, which was his cue to stand beside Tom and take his own little bow. He followed Tom off the stage and waited while Tom was called back for an additional bow.

The applause kept going until Tom held up his hand. Noah clearly heard him say, “I don’t have any more music.”

A woman in the front row yelled, “Improvise.”

A man nearby said, very loudly, “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.”

He heard Tom say, “You asked for it.”

Tom went back to the organ and settled on the bench. With single notes, he played the basic tune slowly and carefully. Then he began to run through a series of variations which transformed the simple little tune into something that was at once amazing and wonderful. He even managed to get a neat little fugue going at one point. Several minutes later, the music soared in a furious crescendo, and then came to an end with a little fanfare. The crowd went wild, and Tom slid off the bench for a final bow.**

He walked back to where Noah was standing, and allowed himself to be called back out for another bow. Finally, he turned and waved Noah out as well. They stood, hand-in-hand, took a final bow together, and it was over.

Back in the waiting room, Tom put on his street shoes and said to Noah, “Now would be a good time to slip out on stage and retrieve the music.”

“Gotcha,” Noah said, and he went back to the organ console and gathered up the music, taking an opportunity to get a good look at the Hall as it was fully lit up at that moment. When he got back to the waiting area, there were a dozen or more people visiting with, and congratulating, Tom. He recognized at least three of them as being from the choir, including Cindy.

“Well, Noah,” Cindy said, “you looked good out there on that stage.”

“Thanks,” he said. “Tom told me all I had to do was stand there, look pretty, and turn the pages.”

“That you certainly did,” she said, laughing. “In fact, the two of you make an attractive pair.”

He heard an older woman from the choir, whose name he couldn’t remember, say to Tom, “Tom honey, that improvisation was wonderful. You rode that beast up one side of the building and down the other.”

“Thanks, Anita,” Tom said. “I really had fun with that one.”

“That’s for damn sure,” she said, “and it showed.”

Eventually everyone got tired of blabbing, and he and Tom were back in the car, on their way home.

“Well, page turner,” Tom said. “How was your first recital?”

“Great,” he said. “I wasn’t a bit nervous.”

“Good.”

“I thought you played flawlessly,” he said.

“Let us say that I’m satisfied that I hit all the notes correctly,” Tom said. “As for flawlessly, that gets into the area of how well I interpreted the music, and I’m not quite satisfied with myself in that respect.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” Noah said.

“Let me give you an example,” Tom said. “A few years ago, the American Guild of Organists sponsored a recital at St. Johns Cathedral, which featured several organists. One of them was an instructor from the University of Florida.”

“And?”

“He played a Bach prelude and fugue,” Tom said. “He played every note exactly as it was written, but he gave nothing to the music, and he took nothing from it. His performance was, in a word, lifeless and sterile. At the Cathedral, you can’t see the performer because the organ console is behind a screen, but in my mind’s eye, I could picture him pressing each key just so, holding it down just long enough, and releasing it just so. He played that piece exactly as my first teachers taught me to do, and as I teach my students. As an instructor at a major University, the man should have been years beyond that kind of pedantic playing.”

“Oh,” Noah said, “I think I see what you mean.”

At the house, Tom said, “I desperately need a quick shower before I change. How about you?”

“Oh yeah,” Noah said.

Tom stepped into his bedroom, stripped, and laid his clothes on his bed. He returned naked to the hallway, and said, “Why don’t you be ready to jump in the shower, the minute I jump out of it? It’ll save time.”

“Okay.”

Tom went into the bathroom, leaving the door open, and turned the shower on. Noah went to his own room and carefully hung up his suit. His shirt and shorts went into his laundry hamper. He arrived in the bathroom just as Tom stepped from the shower.

“Perfect timing,” Tom said.

He took a quick shower, and quickly toweled himself dry. Back in his bedroom, he selected shorts and a polo shirt. He slipped on his deck shoes, and found Tom, similarly attired, waiting at the front door.

“I think we’ve earned a treat tonight,” Tom said. “Ever been to Biscotti’s?”

“No, but I’ve heard good things about it.”

“They’ll be serving late tonight, so we’ll be there in plenty of time before they close.”

After they were seated, Noah looked around the restaurant with interest. He liked what he saw, and decided that it was a warm and friendly place. They placed their orders, and were sitting quietly with their drinks. Tom had a glass of wine, and Noah had a soft drink.

A woman whom Noah did not recognize came over to their table.

“Hi, Tom,” she said. “You were wonderful this evening.”

“Thank you,” Tom said. “Let me introduce you to my new page turner. Debbie this is Noah. Noah, Debbie.”

They exchanged pleasantries with the woman. As she left the table, a couple came up to congratulate Tom and they went through the introductions thing again. The scene was repeated two more times before their food arrived.

“This is a popular place for the after concert and after theater crowd,” Tom said. “After a symphony performance it is usually mobbed. Speaking of the symphony, here comes the director of the symphony chorus.”

A woman in her fifties walked up to the table and congratulated Tom on his performance. He introduced her to Noah as the director of the JSO Chorus. Her husband, who was hovering nearby, caught her attention, and she walked away.

“The food is wonderful,” Noah said, continuing their interrupted conversation, “so it’s not hard to understand why it’s so popular.”

When they had finished their desserts, Tom said, “Ready to go? We have to be in the choir room by nine in the morning.”

“Right behind you,” Noah said.

When they were home, Tom said, “I’m going to pour a glass of wine before I crawl in bed. Want one?”

“Sure,” Noah said.

He sat down on the sofa and accepted the glass of wine Tom handed him a couple of minutes later. They sat for a while, enjoying their wine and talking about the day just concluded.

When their glasses were empty, Tom stood and said, “I think I need to hit the sack.”

Noah stood and said, “Tom, I don’t know how to thank you for an amazing evening.”

“I think you just did, kiddo,” Tom said. He surprised the heck out of Noah by grabbing him and hugging him fiercely.

“Noah, you were great out there on the stage,” Tom whispered in his ear, “and you don’t know how grateful I am. There will be more concerts, and in the not too distant future. By the way, I haven’t forgotten your honorarium. I’ll write you a check tomorrow.”

Noah hugged Tom back and retired to his bedroom in a bit of a daze. He hadn’t expected either the hug or the rush of feelings that came with it. He stripped and crawled into his bed. He lay there for a long time replaying the events of the evening in his head. He had never slept naked, and he found the sensation of doing so to be erotic. He masturbated quickly, visions of Tom naked in the locker room shower playing through his head.

The next morning, he padded naked to the bathroom, and from there to the kitchen. Tom was at the counter, in roughly the same position he had been the day before. As Noah approached the kitchen table, Tom turned to set the glasses of juice down.

“I see you’ve joined the club,” Tom said.

Noah looked down at his own nudity and said, “It’s kind of an accident. I crawled in bed naked last night, and sort of forgot to put shorts on when I got up. I’ve never slept nude before. It was kind of....” He paused, groping for a polite word to describe the sensations he had felt the night before.

“Sexy?” Tom said, completing Noah’s sentence for him.

“Yeah, you could say that. I kind of liked it.”

Later in the car, on the way to church, Noah said, “Tell me again about communion.”

“The Episcopal church has what is known as an open table,” Tom said, “which simply means that you don’t have to be a member to partake. All Baptized Christians are welcome to take Communion.”

“But I don’t know what to do.”

“Just follow the person ahead of you in line and do what they do,” Tom said. “Basically, you kneel and hold your hands out kind of cupped. The wafer will be placed in it and you move it to your mouth and eat. When they bring the chalice by, it will be placed against your lips and tilted slightly. Just take a sip. That’s all there is to it. You may even see a former Roman Catholic hold their tongue out for the Priest to place the wafer on it.”

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll try.”

“In a month or so, it will be second nature to you,” Tom said.

The choir members assembled in the choir room. By the time Tom called them to order for a short rehearsal, most of them were in their robes and ready for the service. He stopped the rehearsal in time for the rest of the members to get ready.

“Okay, kids,” Tom said. “I’ve got to go get on the bench. Larry, I’ll assign you the task of finding a place in the procession for Noah, and guiding him through the process.”

“On it, Tom,” Larry said.

At ten minutes before the hour, the choir members filed down the steps and out into the cloister. They lined up outside the same side door that Noah had entered Thursday evening.

There were several people in the front of the procession. The young man at the head of the procession was carrying a cross. Larry quickly explained that his title was ‘crucifer.’ Another altar boy was carrying a round metal thing suspended on chains. He asked Larry about it, and learned that it was a ‘thurible,’ and was used as a censer to scatter incense during the procession.

“I’ve got a lot to learn,” Noah said.

Larry laughed, and said, “Don’t worry about it. Ask Tom to lend you a book he has, which explains the elements of the procession and the service. Oops, here we go.”

The side door opened and they filed into the Narthex, executed a right turn and processed down the aisle, singing the processional hymn. He was so nervous about staying in line that he could hardly keep his place in the music. Finally, they were in their pews, and every thing else fell into place.

He quickly warmed to the service, even though it was totally different from anything he had ever experienced. Instead of pounding the pulpit with his fists and ranting about hell and damnation, the Priest gave a little talk, which was as interesting as it was brief.

He really liked the communion service and had no trouble keeping up with his fellow choristers. When the service had ended, they processed back up the aisle, singing the last verse of the recessional hymn. Somehow that had been timed such that they were all in the Narthex when it ended and the Priest gave his benediction.

Tom began playing a spirited postlude and Noah slipped into one of the rear pews to listen to it. When the last notes had died away, he pushed his way through the members of the congregation who were still standing around visiting, and went back up to where Tom was shutting down the organ and gathering his music.

“Well?” Tom said, when he spotted Noah.

“Well what?”

“How did you like the service?”

“I liked it,” he said. “There’s a lot I don’t understand, but I liked it. Larry said to ask you for a book or pamphlet that explained some of the things that were going on.”

“I can do that,” Tom said. “Right now, I need to go home and take a shower.”

“Now that you mention it, so do I.”

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

**There are some things just cannot make up, or as they say, truth is stranger than fiction. There is an Organist/Choir Director at a major church in Jacksonville who is the best at improvisation that I’ve ever heard, and that includes the late blind pianist Alec Templeton whom I heard in performance when I eleven or thereabouts. I actually heard this particular Organist turn that simple little tune into a semi-major work once upon a time. He did so for a full five minutes and it was so far beyond amazing that words fail.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Jacoby Symphony Hall -

http://www.jaxsymphony.org/about/jacoby/index.php

The Casavant organ:

http://www.jaxsymphony.org/about/jacoby/pipeorgan.php

Biscotti’s Restaurant:

http://www.biscottis.net/

||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

-To be continued-

||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

Your feedback, as always, is appreciated, be it good, bad, or indifferent.

Etienne.Reynard@Comcast.net

My stories may be found on the following site:

http://tickiestories.us/Etienne_m.htm

My thanks as always to the tireless Rockhunter for editing this material.

Special thanks go to Roger who agreed to become my beta reader in order to keep this amateur musician in line concerning matters musical, and who has also provided many useful and helpful suggestions regarding plot strengths and deficiencies.

||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||