by Blair Aaron
His cell door open and a different set of guards came in to dress him for the event. Stetson could sense they were petrified of what he might do to them. They pulled off his shirt and pants and put him in nurse's scrubs, then placed a black bag over his head. From Stetson's perspective, all he could see was black, but he could hear and feel the gurney they laid him on roll down the hall and into a new room. The air conditioner in the adjacent froze him like no other, and it smelled sterile like a hospital. Stetson was sure they had him in the room he would die in. The next thing he knew, Presley Watkins pulled the bag off his head, stood over him, smiling.
“You know you're going to die in 15 minutes, right?”
Stetson ignored him and looked away, past his head at the ceiling. Two orderlies came into the room, followed by a man in his mid-thirties wearing a priest's collar. The orderlies wrapped Stetson's wrists with thick leather straps and used the electronic chair to sit him up.
“OK doc, we're going to set you up in the chair, but you got to promise you won't do anything to hurt us.” Stetson again said nothing. “OK we'll take that as a yes, doc. Here we go.” They pulled him up from the gurney heaving all their weight to counterbalance his. They placed him in a large wooden chair, strapping down his arms and legs. Then they doused a sponge with a bucket of water, bathing the crown of his skull with the wetness. The water dripped down the front of his brow onto his shirt and into his eyes. He never blinked. As the orderlies screwed a metal plate over the top of his head and connected various electrical wires to the chair, Stetson could see through the plate glass window Stetson alone in the observation room, staring, and smiling. It was silent in the room, but Watkins turned around suddenly in the darkness of the room, as if he suddenly saw or heard something. Suddenly Watkins body was thrown against the glass violently and the two orderlies rushed out of the room to help. Several moments passed, and Stetson could hear screams through the other side but then there was silence. The door to the execution room open and Stetson looked over at the figure standing in the door, saying nothing, too weak finally to put up any fight. The figure threw a red package in his lap, labeled EVIDENCE.
--
After an hour or two, when the place was silent, two middling guards walked with the priest into the execution room to find the prisoner, cloaked with a black hood over his face, sitting tied to the electric chair, with all other orderlies missing. Missing too was Presley Watkins.
“What the hell is going on here?” one guard asked.
“Beats me. I'm hungry. Let's get this show on the road,” the other guard yawned. They turned on the lights in the observation to find an empty, clean room. Another hour or so passed and witnesses came filing in, one after another, sitting in the chairs. Some of them were Jaidon Marsh's relatives. Some of them were friends of Presley Watkins, one of whom wondered out loud, “Where the hell is that boy?”
II
Carter pulled into his driveway, sure the police would arrive at his place any second. He got out of the car, racing in circle like a rabid dog, unsure where to go or what to do. He paced back and forth in the den of the mountain home. The quiet of the house terrified him. He thought about the past few years and all that he'd been through, all the suffering which he didn't seem capable of escaping. It was like he was the plague, and everything he touched died or abandoned him. He just couldn't cope anymore with the unbearable sadness of losing Stetson. He stared at the loaded on the table, knowing this was it. He picked it up, placed the end of the barrel into his mouth, closed his tear-filled and pulled the trigger.
But the chamber wasn't loaded. He looked down at the clip to make sure there were bullets, found something lodged in the clip and dug his finger in to remove it. There was a desperate knock on the door. Carter looked up frightened, as he approached the front door. He wondered for a second whether he should open it, certain cops were waiting outside with loaded guns, ready to blow him away. He placed his hand on the doorknob, ready for his fate, and opened the door. He stared at the figure on the doorstep for several seconds in shock.
“Stetson,” he said. “How did you?” The figure belted him in the chest with a red package labeled EVIDENCE.
III
The second set of guards to enter the execution chamber, never bothering to check the identity of the man in the chair, gave the approving look to the switch handler. “Roll on one.” The handler nodded and flipped the switch, sending thousands of volts of electricity through the terrified human sitting in the chair. After a few seconds which seemed to last forever, the doctor walked over the prisoner and checked his pulse.
“Dead.”
The lights in the observation room went up and the doctor pulled the veil of the head of the prisoner, revealing his identity at last. There were shocks from the room were murderous. “PRESLEY WATKINS!” one of them screamed.
The Redemption
I
Michael Ingram sat in his cruiser, now by himself, thinking about the love of his life, the one human being he loved managed to really love, Carter Simmons. He knew it was over now, and perhaps he always knew the relationship would never last because the boy only loved the cowboy. Subconsciously he knew it would end when the cowboy was executed, and Ingram's heart broke because of it. He just wished there was something he could do. He longed for some way he could help the boy feel whole again and understand that Ingram really cared about him. His biggest regret was never speaking up to the injustice he helped to bring along with Presley Watkins. Now he was left alone, no family, no spouse, without even a partner to call backup.
Just then a Ford-150, blue raced past his cruiser. The truck looked vaguely familiar to the truck he remembered Carter driving, but then these days he saw Carter and everything associated with him all over the place--in his dreams, in the supermarket, in the locker room, everywhere. He put the car in gear and started his lights, obliged to chase down the speeding vehicle.
As he came closer to the pickup, he noticed it did look even more similar than he originally thought to Carter's truck. He got out of his cruiser and approached the driver's window.
“Sir, do you know why I pulled you over today?” he said before he could get a good look at who was sitting in the driver's seat, none other than Carter himself. “Holy shit man. What are you doing out here? Don't be doing anything stupid now, you here?” He looked in the back seat to see who was sitting there, even more shocked to see Stetson Carthswaite covering his face with a cowboy hat. In that moment it was clear he could help Carter as he last wished.
“Uh--I'm going to give you a warning this time sir,” pretending not to recognize the man in the back seat.
“They'll have your ass for this you know.”
“They already do man. Just trying to help.” Carter gave him the first genuine smile of appreciation he'd ever received from the boy. In those eyes in that moment he saw nothing but gratitude. Carter reached over to the passenger seat and tossed him a red package. “Here's your real chance, friend.” Then he sped away, leaving Officer Michael Ingram standing on the highway, holding a red package labeled EVIDENCE.
II
Michael Ingram plopped down at his old desk, long overused and disgusting compared to the one he had before Watkins demoted him. He opened the red package to reveal a tape. He popped it in the cassette player. The audio played over the loud speaker, accidentally, voiced:
“I don't care. He's still going to fry. I'll just say Jaidon was a liar and thug. Thugs can still be murdered you know.”
“So you admit it then? You slimy bastard.”
“Are you retarded, Carter? We were both there and know what happened. You saw it, and I saw it. I just wish my little plan to off you and your lover would have worked out better. Too bad Jaidon didn't have the guts to shoot you while you were on that fence post. And I would have done it myself if there weren't witnesses. Give me that, faggot. They'll never believe you.”
The entire police department looked up in the air, listening to the sound of th
e guilty air their sins through the speaker. They would know why Jaidon Marsh died. They would know Stetson as the hero he was. Michael Ingram looked around at his comrades as the audio revealed Jamie Simmons and Presley Watkins for what they really were.
A new day had come to the town of Baggs, Wyoming--a kinder, gentler, more understanding day, one which Michael Ingram finally had a chance to help bring to fruition. They could all feel then a hope for the future and its improvement. Ingram himself felt it particularly strongly, because he recognized this was at last his chance to right his wrongs, address his regrets, and finally save the poor blonde boy he should have stood up for so long ago.
III
There was a cabin on the coast of California, white stucco plastered on the outside for protection. If a casual stroller stopped to notice, he would think it was some ancient Indian church yard, hanging off the cliff near the ocean. The cabin withstood the edge of the cliff all this time, and there were no signs it would stop. Deep inside its interior, there was very little furniture, a few desktops, a coffee table, a small television, and a large strong wooden kitchen table in the dining area. On that table was a beige cowboy hat and a pile of clothes. Outside, through the window, two men, one large and looming and the other blond and frail, ran down the edge of the embankment, toward the ocean, naked as the day they were born. Carter and Stetson were finally free to live their lives as they pleased, away from the prying eyes of the hateful and scornful.
At this juncture in their relationship they had adopted to some extent or another each other's qualities. For Stetson, this meant he was more open and expressive of his love for Carter. And for Carter, this meant he could stand silences better than ever, using those quiet moments in the early afternoon to communicate the contentedness he was experiencing with the second person he'd ever truly loved.
Carter jumped into the ocean, Stetson wading after, a little more reluctant, protective of the open water. Carter motioned him further into the water, assuring him without speaking he was all right. Stetson stepped into the water slowly at first, then dived head first.
The water was salty and warm, perfect for the breezy, yet somewhat chilly air above the surface of the ocean. There wasn't much turbulence that day, and Stetson reached under the water for Carter's wrist, giving him the indication he was “in the mood.” As he pulled the boy closer to him, his dick grew harder in anticipation of the passionate love they were about to make to each other. Stetson could feel various parts of Carter's body under the water, guessing only from touch what body part was caressing him. First it was Carter's dainty hands, running through the salty spray over Stetson's cheeks and back and then his hard nipples. Then it was Carter's long legs entangled in Stetson's, swimming to stay afloat then wrapping around Stetson's waist. After that it was Carter's lips under the water groping for Stetson's member and waist, as Carter held himself under the water long enough to give Stetson fellatio. Stetson put his hand on Carter's head under the water, his blonde hair somehow infinitely softer in the water than it was dry. In the rustling waves he could see through the foam the shape of his lover's head bobbing up and down but it didn't last long, as Carter came up from beneath the water for air. He gasped and Stetson couldn't help but wonder if he was okay. He was always wondering if Carter was okay. Somehow Carter himself knew this and gave Stetson a casual pat on his cheek with a wet hand to show him everything was all right. Carter was groping for Stetson's erect member underneath the whole time. He hopped on Stetson like a bronco and pushed his large penis into him from behind. The water made things a bit uncomfortable so they allowed the tide to drift them ashore, onto the cake-like sand, which the waves caressed them from behind, washing away and covering them with billions of sand grains altogether. Sometimes Stetson wondered if he had really been executed, and somehow was hallucinating in heaven about living the rest of his life with Carter. It wasn't a long shot, especially considering how he'd escaped, which didn't hold too much memory of. His entire life after meeting Carter seemed surreal and dream-like, as if time had stopped or slowed down and he had left the world to the rest of its business.
Carter drifted onto Stetson's naked lap, slipping Stetson's giant member into his mouth, massaging the tip of his penis with his tongue, tasting his sweet juices, then covering his face in the folds of Carter's body, running his hands along Stetson's thighs, squeezing every now and then, then speeding up his stroking motion with his hand. Carter grabbed Stetson's hand and placed it on his head, as if he wanted to be treated like a toy, a pliant, obeying personal slave, created all for the special purpose of making Stetson feel comfortable. In those moments it occurred to Stetson that Carter was probably used to being a slave of sorts, obeying others commands, thinking of how his actions and statements affect other people. Carter himself wondered from time to time what it would feel like to have someone take care of you, what it would feel like to let someone else do the work for a change. But those were just dreams, he thought as he rolled onto his back. Stetson leaned over and stared into his eyes, smiling, almost reading Carter's thoughts. It was time Stetson committed to taking care of the one person who'd suffered more than he'd ever consider. Carter could not turn off his feelings for people and the world. He simply had too much love to give, and one day it would fully exhaust him if Stetson didn't do something about it. He crawled on top of Carter and got him erect with his mouth, then turned onto his stomach, offering Carter to be the first person to penetrate Stetson. Carter crawled on top of Stetson and rammed himself into Stetson's thick buns as hard and fast as he could, knowing full well how strongly he'd have to push to even register in Stetson's mind, he was so large and hulking. He continued pumping away for several minutes and after damn near physically exhausting himself, he reached around Stetson's waist to stroke his erection. When Carter was on the verge of ejaculating inside Stetson, he heard a faint moan from him. And it occurred to Carter in that moment, Stetson enjoyed taking in Carter from behind. He continued pumping away, faster and faster, and threshold of climax passed him before he realized it, leaving a sweet feeling, calming and subdued, satisfying Carter not just physically but emotionally.
There was something emerging from within Carter in those moments. It was a feeling he'd long forgotten he was capable of, and it took him a while to grab onto it in his heart and mind. He looked around him, at the lull of the beach, the quiet hiss of ocean spray, the flapping curtains against the setting sun, Stetson's large and hulking body exhaling and inhaling softly as he fell into a deep post-coital nap. All this and more made him Carter feel at last safe and sound. And he could finally rest with no interruptions.
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Every year when the carnival rolled into the small town of Baggs, Wyoming, Carter Simmons made a pact with his boyfriend that they'd have sex in the fun house when all the drunken visitors stumbled their way through the maze, which Carter's father helped design.
“Okay let's go back here,” Maddox said. He walked in front of Carter through the smoke. Drunken men with their cotton-candy toting girls laughed through the metallic walls at their reflections in the mirrors. Maddox was a thickly built blonde guy who enjoyed wearing his boots over his jeans. Carter's first impression of Maddox, before he fell in love with him, was that he was the straightest guy east of the Mississippi. But when met him on at a bar on Bourbon Street, the first thing to jump out to Carter was the fact that Maddox wouldn't take the shots the female waitresses were vigorously foisting on him. They'd take his hand and put glowing test tubes of tequila in their cleavage, summoning Maddox like a succubus from a sexy dream. He didn't budge. When Carter laughed out loud, Maddox heard and the rest is history.
Carter was the bottom, simply because the love of his life would never trade positions. The truth was that Maddox was in all ways pure cowboy, save one. He liked slim, tall boys with big lips who looked just like Carter, instead of busty girls. Maddox treated Carter with the grace and care he w
ould a woman, if he'd been straight. So it was in this way Carter could see that it truly wasn't in his boyfriend's nature to be anything but dominant.
They stepped around the corner from where a couple was laughing. Maddox put his hands on Carter's face in the dark, groping for where to plant his first kiss. He found Carter's lips and began making out with him. His calloused hands were something permanent that Carter endured because Maddox's job required heavy labor in the oil fields of Louisiana. For some reason, though, no matter how dirty Maddox got, after a quick shower it was like his skin rejuvenated itself, white and without a single mark. His odor was slightly sweet, as well.
As they continued to make out, Carter put his hands on Maddox's chest, a thick slab of pec, smooth as a marble sculpture. He continued down his abs where he could begin to feel the soft fuzz of his boyfriend's pubic hair. Maddox's gigantic erection was swelling fast as they continued their foreplay. Soft grunts vibrated through the area, drowned by the din of the carnival, the laughter, the screams of excited riders, the giggles of schoolchildren. Maddox drifted his kissing down Carter's neck, sending soft tingles of energy through his body. He took his strong, 21-year old hands and ripped Carter's shirt open. He could feel Maddox continue tasting his chest and then his pelvic area.
