When there are productions we’re together. There aren’t many boy dancers. They always need me. But usually my classes are in the late afternoon, a...ter school—no school now, of course, since it’s summer. My mother teaches classes in the evening.”“So, she’s not around in the evening.”“No, not usually.”“But you like it, don’t you? Dancing, and being in productions?”“Yeah, I like it. It’s something I can do, and do well, that other guys aren’t doing. But I’m also into sports,” he said, somewhat. When the bell finally rang I felt a sigh of relief, the students jumping up and exiting the class room, all except for two. As they came up to my desk my thongs were held up like a flag of my surrender. My Bull, my Master, my Daddy, the young impertinent little shit that made me beg and grovel told me to come and get them after school from I knew where. I knew where alright, the west wing second floor boys bath room, the spot where he first had me. I felt angry and betrayed. I would be there. More

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