Episode II: WHEN A BODY MEETS A BODY
BEHAVIOR FOR GENTLEMEN
Jules bowed to Kevin's household
gods as he arrived, and they rewarded him by sending thoughts
of Kevin into his mind. His cock quickly stiffened in anticipation.
He rubbed it through the denim of the jeans he wore to please
Kevin, who enjoyed being reminded of the near-fetish status of
this clothing item in some of his favorite periods of history.
The ritual greeting
to the gods was a heartfelt thing for Jules, but he was a person
who always respected social forms, even when he caught himself going
through the motions without thinking. However, this was not an issue
when visiting Kevin, as they both brought a real zest to fulfilling
the social niceties. They never neglected any element of the proper
greeting, and this evening was no different.
First they exchanged
the requisite number of air kisses. Kevin offered tea, and Jules
politely declined. Jules backed Kevin against the wall in the entry,
and rubbed his nipples. Kevin growled, Jules purred, and they soon
found themselves tumbling onto the couch, happily rubbing their
dicks together, then against other well-beloved body-parts, drawing
out the formal phase of greeting as long as possible before reaching
the traditional genital release. Kevin and Jules liked frottage
not only because it felt good and allowed them to appreciate each
other's fine points, but also because it charged up the etheric
energy in the ghost of Kevin's missing arm. They could ride that
energy for days after just saying Hello in the proper way.
So it was that as
Kevin was happily rubbing his dick on his friend's sweet round belly,
having already paid his respects to various other favorite parts
of his anatomy, a whirring sound made its way into his awareness,
slowly growing more distinct, until he knew exactly what it was.
to find you together." Militant Mike spun into the room in his wheelchair,
roaring at his usual enthusiastic level, just below that of a small
"Much as I love
you, Uncle, you do have the worst timing of anyone in recorded history,"
Kevin teased, "and for lack of evidence to the contrary, I will
throw in prehistory, too."
scoffed, "Even in jest you are imprecise, if not incorrect." Pretending
to be officious was one of Mike's favorite strategies for self-mockery,
an ancient practice that he was trying single-handedly to keep alive.
Perhaps the love of ancient practices explained his use of a wheelchair,
the antique vehicle of the disabled, though he insisted he used
it to remind people of alternative approaches to human interdependence:
"Others may prefer to use the levitation system," he would always
say, "but I cannot see any reason why I should not get about in
one of these relics, as long as I can keep the thing in working
order." Of course it was not Mike who kept it in order at all, but
one of his flock of adoring students, of which there was never any
Mike, who had always
been his favorite uncle, became his mentor only when Kevin fell
in love with history. Mike was delighted when his nephew insisted
that teaching history was as important as sex work, but keenly disappointed
that he did not want to pursue academic research. Instead, Kevin
encouraged his own best students to work with his uncle, an arrangement
that seemed to mollify Mike.
But when it came
to politics, nothing could mollify Mike. Early experience in a youth
group of the Permanent Emergency Revolutionary Movement (PERM) convinced
him that the Permanent Emergency had been a ruse to restrict freedom
under the banner of revolution. From then on, he was too suspicious
of all forms of authority to belong to any organization for long,
though he did support the Revolutionary Organization of Transformational
Sexuality (ROOTS), because they also wanted to overthrow PERM. Mike
claimed he could not rest while PERM ruled. Kevin thought it was
unlikely that his uncle could rest, period-thus he was not terribly
surprised by this unannounced visit.
social forms, Mike showed no interest in air kisses or any other
part of the traditional welcome ("Not really a guest here, am I?"
he had said once, "and besides, I get enough of that as it
is." It was certainly true enough, he never lacked for attention
of any kind, as far as Kevin could tell). But Mike could hardly
resist the opportunity to tease: "Couple of tasty morsels, you are!"
Jules reached for
him, but Mike only laughed. "Sorry to interrupt, but I just heard
there's a big demo tomorrow, you must both come along. We've got
to support ROOTS, or we'll be stuck with PERM forever. Promise me
you'll be there and I'll leave you to enjoy yourselves."
"But Uncle, politics
are banned, as you well know. How can we go to a demonstration?"
"Kevin, how many
times do I have to tell you: Politics cannot be banned. That is
why we have to demonstrate, to remind PERM that freedom is ours
because we take it, not because they grant it. Whether you agree
with the opposition or not, at least they continue to speak out
against this ridiculous Permanent Emergency."
"I'll be there,"
Jules put in quietly. "What time? At the Spiral Ground, as usual?"
Kevin thought about
politics only when Mike made him, and tended to take for granted
that no one else would either, given the choice, so he was surprised
at this new side of Jules.
at noon," Mike replied.
"Your uncle Mike
is very persuasive," Jules smiled at Kevin, who felt his dick throb
"Well," boomed Mike,
"You boys have a nice evening, I have to see a few more people before
my bath and massage. Those boys take me to their house now, say
they simply cannot work at the bathhouse with everyone trying to
talk to me the whole time."
"Now I believe we
were still saying Hello," Jules purred, as Mike rolled out chuckling.
A meeting of a different
kind was taking place that night, in a lovely old house on the far
edge of town. The house sat next to an overgrown park where few
people would have reason to go except to attend this gathering.
The central room, uncluttered and airy, became quite cozy when the
group filled it, as they did tonight for yet another conciousness-raising
"Opposition is the
theory, we are the practice! Gender is a prison of our own making.
We must break down these rigid categories and define our own realities…"
"Oh really, Charlotte,
if you would stop stringing slogans together for a moment, we might
at least discuss our own realities, and perhaps that might enable
us to define them later," Louise broke in, and realizing she hadn't
only been thinking, but had said it out loud, she added, "I know
you mean well…"
"But Louise is right,
we have to think, not just comfort ourselves with formulas praising
our vanguard status." Though keen to avoid distracting personality
clashes, Bernard felt very strongly that they were there to explore
ideas, not make speeches.
The working group
of TIPSthe Transformational Intersexual Progressive Society,
though even the members tended to think of it as Trannies in Perpetual
Struggle devoted its meetings to imagining the greater possibilities
for freedom once they had shaken off the repressive Permanent Emergency
of the PERM regime. Although the real work of TIPS could hardly
begin until ROOTS brought the hated perpetual emergency to an end,
the members of TIPS came together because they believed they had
to start thinking beyond opposition and discover the full range
of freedom, or risk settling for too little not only now but even
after the PERM collapsed.
enjoyed the meetings, but tonight he wondered if what they were
doing truly mattered. Was the group really going to expand freedom
by questioning the sex-gender system, as they claimed? Tonight it
seemed as if they would never do anything besides talk. Maybe that
was only because the member who had drawn him into the group in
the first place was absent from the meeting. Knowing that the energy
radiating from that one individual bound him to the group even more
than the excitement of talking about freedom, Bernard could not
help wondering how many other members of TIPS were present because
of that same person.
His thoughts drifted
happily to the day he set eyes on that beautiful figure for the
first time. His eccentric but persuasive neighbor Mike had dragged
him along to an anti-Emergency demonstration, explaining the importance
of ROOTS, the organization calling the demo, all the way there:
"They were the ones
who transformed the world, you know," Mike told Bernard, "and while
they were busy saving us all, those who are always sure that what
they decide is best for everyone formed PERM and took over, and
we've been trying to get out from under their control every since!
As I often tell my nephewvery smart in his own way, but not
very sophisticated politically, in spite of all my efforts to expand
his horizonsit is wrong for us to enjoy the comforts of freedom
until that freedom is fully won, we all have to do our part to complete
the struggle begun by those heroic pioneers…"
If he could have
gotten a word in edgewise, Bernard might have asked about what to
expect when they got to the demonstration, since the only large
gathering he had ever been to was a ritual dance put on by the Fraternal
Order of Faeries (FOOF). As soon as they arrived, a gaggle of youths
recognized Mike and rushed over to greet him. Bernard stopped to
take in the crowd filling the great Spiral Ground, and his eyes
fell on a person so attractive, he simply could not look at anyone
or anything else. When Mike's new entourage swept him off into the
thick of things, Bernard was glad to be left alone to let his feet
follow his gaze. Although too shy to introduce himself, he did get
close enough to hear someone say the man's name: Jules.
© 2005 Seamus
Header design by Tom Metz
Episode III of
The Professor of History
in the September issue of BENT
Let us know what you think
of this BENT feature.
Seamus Lester Hussey, who admits to suffering from far too much
education and far too many ideas, has been pondering the transformative
power of fiction. He assures you, dear reader, that if you are
not careful, the inhabitants of the future will take over your
life, they way they have already taken over his.
A Journal of CripGay Voices/July 2005