The full bloom of summer green swayed the tall maples gently as the heavy burden of leaves caught caressing breezes. Christian, a slender boy of fifteen such summers, walked along the path in the park. He stayed on paths on his way to the community pool, because the tickling blades of grass would activate his allergy, should he venture to step upon them, wearing only rubber thongs on his feet. The short cut across the grass, taken by everyone else in his family, would only set Christian to sneezing.

Being self conscious, Christian hummed a recent hit by the Ronettes quite softly, to himself, as he walked. He felt keenly aware of his swimsuit. Although a boxer style suit would be less revealing, all the coolest boys wore the racer style, like the swim team, and Christian did as well. The warm breeze seemed to catch even the microscopic peachfuzz on his legs, from his feet, right to his crotch, and that made his nipples tingle. He seriously doubted if boys should even have nipples, and feared that these sensations might mean he was partly girlish. Fortunately, he wore a tee shirt, with horizontal stripes, which covered the little points on his chest, although he had observed that other boys nipples stuck up, too, when they were cold, or wet. Actually, Christian liked the feeling, but he probably wasn't supposed to.

The words to the tune twirled in his head, twisting on his tongue, even though his lips never parted. "No, no, he'll never do; Bobby, no, it isn't him, too..." Christian stopped humming as he approached the anchor fence that surrounded the community pool, lest someone might hear him. He drew from his tee shirt pocket the identity card one must present to gain access to the pool, and surrendered it at the gate to his mother. Even though his mother was serving this day as card taker, all must abide by the rules. The cards were returned upon leaving, and this kept non-community persons out, unless they were a guest, of course. There was always the municipal pool for outsiders.

"Hi, honey," Christian's mother sparkled, "I wasn't sure you'd make it today."

"Hi, Mom," Christian shyly smiled. His mother always sparkled when she met him in public. He knew he was her favorite, she had told him so once, when she had had too much to drink.

"Where's Betsy?" his mother inquired after his thirteen year old sister.

"She went with a bunch of girls to the municipal pool. Annie Siegal's mother drove them." He wondered where he should put his towel and tee shirt when he went in for a swim; there was a man on the usual spot, the bench behind the card file table, at the gate where his mother sat.

"Honey, you know Councilman Schaeffer," his mother gestured towards the man on the bench. "He's the one we helped elect last November. Ben, this is my oldest, Christian."

"Hi!" Christian stepped forward to greet the leant forward councilman, they shook hands.

"Please, call me Ben."

Christian smiled politely. He placed his towel on the other end of the bench where Ben sat, and took off his tee shirt, tossing it over the towel. "I think I'll do some laps," he said.

"Great day for it, it's a scorcher," Ben said. Christian smiled, his mother smiled, and as he walked away from his mother and her friend, toward the diving end of the pool, Christian could hear Ben's voice fading. "Great kid you got there..."

Christian did not like to hear people talk about him, because he had decided that it was quite difficult, if not impossible, to change people's opinions of others, whether that opinion was good or bad, deserved or undeserved. He stepped into the required anti-fungal foot bath, and rinsed under the required shower, before diving into the Olympic sized pool at the deep end, and swam the entire length under water. When he emerged for air at the shallow end, he noticed that his mother and Ben still watched him. His mother smiled and waved, and Christian waved back. He submerged again and swam the length toward the deep end this time. Perhaps a few lengths under water would disinterest his mother and Ben, and they would go back to their own conversations. Yes, that did the trick. He switched to Australian crawl, and then became a breast stroking battleship. Needless to say, all enemy vessels were sunk as Christian swam about the pool. None of these ships, or people, young or old, were friends to Christian. That song was back in his mind. "And someday, someway, whoa-o-o-o-uh-oh, I'll meet him; He'll be kind of shy, and real good looking, too..." Christian loved the voice of Ronnie, the lead singer of the Ronettes. He almost went to see them at Murray the K's show at the Brooklyn Paramount, but his mother wouldn't let him go to Brooklyn alone on the bus. After a short while, the air temperature seemed to be cooler than the water, even though that couldn't be true. Then, after sinking all enemy ships again, and after singing, in the deepest solitude of his mind, the words to "Walking In The Rain" several times, and after standing perfectly still in the water so that his body created an invisible blanket of warmth around him, someone would inevitably swim by, creating currents so cooling, they felt like autumn breezes. Christian knew it was time to get out. He climbed the ladder, and walked to where his mother and Ben were still talking local politics. He toweled himself dry, and sat at the far end of the bench from Ben, even beyond where his shirt lay. The sun soaked deep green boards of the bench felt warm and good to Christian's slender thighs and bottom. He leaned back on the warm boards, and that was enough. Already he began to feel comfortable, not chilly at all. The summer sun warmed Christian's outstretched legs and upper body, and created small yellow fringed, diamond like patterns on the concrete at the purple bordered edge of shadow, cast by a row of broad leafed deciduous trees to the west of the pool's deck. The kaleidoscopically changeing sun pattern, now with greens and oranges, as well as the yellows, purples, and blues, hypnotizing to Christian, as the drone of political conversation between his mother and Ben receded to near inaudibility, allowed Christian's eyelids to gradually lower, and his head to float back , until a message from his inner ear, that his head might soon fall off of his body, startled his brain into wakefulness. Christian felt a rush of embarrassment, as the blood reddened his face, and he looked at his mother and Ben, whose topic of conversation had changed to gardening. They hadn't even noticed him drifting away.

"...and now that rhododendron is huge, and the flowers are beautiful," Christian's mother said.

"I'll have to try Dietrich's," Ben said, referring to a local garden shop. He looked at his watch.

"Just remember to get a small one and plant it at least eighteen inches from the foundation. They really fill out in no time," Christian's mother advised.

Ben took his watch off. "Time for one more dip, before I have to be going," he said, looking at Christian's mother. Then he turned towards Christian and addressed him, "care to join me?"

Christian, surprised, replied "Oh, no thanks, I stayed in too long before. I'd have to warm up first, before I could even think about going in again."

"Well, okay, you lay there in that sun, and I guarantee you'll be hot in no time," Ben said.

"Wait a minute, Ben," Christian's mother stood up. "I wouldn't mind joining you, myself, if Christian wouldn't mind watching the cardfile for me," and she winked at Christian, smiling.

"Oh, sure," Christian replied, "I don't mind." He stood up, too.

"Thanks, honey. Let's go, Ben." They walked off towards the deep end.

Christian took the aluminum folding chair, upon which his mother had sat, facing Ben and the afternoon sun, and turned it forty five degrees to face the card table and the cardfile, also thereby avoiding the sun in his eyes. Shortly, two girls his own age came over, Carol S. and Elaine V., her friend. He withdrew their cards, and handed them to the girls as they reached the table.

"Hi, Christian, where's your mother?" Carol asked.

"She went for a swim." Christian responded.

"Oh, that's nice," Elaine smiled. Carol pushed Elaine with her shoulder, towards the gate, and out, as they both called back, "Bye, Christian," and trotted away. Twenty feet, or so down the path, they slowed to a walk and giggled audibly. Christian didn't like that, since he didn't know what they were laughing at. He glanced down the length of the pool, to where his mother and Ben swam several widths, rather than lengths, and then came to stand, up to their armpits, near the deep end; whereupon their conversation continued. This, Christian felt, differentiated all grown-ups from himself, and, probably, other teenagers; that is, their conversations. It wasn't the swimming, or a round of golf, a fine meal at a gourmet restaurant, or an evening at the theater, that was the substance of their lives. Rather, it was the conversations, verbal agreements and alignments, disagreements, confidences, and conspiracies, that made their meat, not the swim, the swing, or the taste. But for himself, and Christian felt sure other teenagers, too, there was only the moment, like at a live rock and roll concert, or even the loud playing of records in one's own little room, when the lyrics swirled in the air and enjoined one's mind, while the music swelled and swayed, and enraptured the physical body; or a roller coaster ride, when one could only think of the thrill or the throw up feeling of that moment, and when the ride was over, the only concern being for what to do next, now, this moment. At this moment, Christian felt, well, not quite powerful, but certainly authoritative, as the substitute card taker at the gate. Not that he could refuse to return a card, withdrawing pool privileges; that was only done to the rowdiest of boys who had done something uncontrollably rude, and only at the request of the lifeguard. Nevertheless, Christian felt very good, confident.

There were not many left swimming, for it was nearly five o'clock, and the pool closed at six. Some fathers who worked in the city would rush in for a quick dip before closing, but not too many, and despite councilman Schaeffer's remark, it was not a scorcher, so the pool would not offer extended hours tonight. Christian smiled politely as he returned cards to the departing few, and he knew most of their names, although some needed to announce themselves as they left. One little fellow came up to the card table, but said nothing, simply staring at Christian and smiling.

"What's your name?" Christian asked, smiling back easily at the little boy, because Christian was always more at ease around younger children. They were less judgmental, and this one, who was about seven, was quite cute, actually. The small boy just shook his long blond hair for a moment, and it seemed brighter than the sun.

"I'm not leaving, yet," the tyke finally replied, placing his hands on the table, and then he stepped around to the side of the table, where Christian could view the boy's entire figure.

"Oh," Christian acceded, caught slightly off guard by the boy's prettiness. Although he didn't admit it to anyone else, he did admit to himself his homosexuality, but he always thought that boys his sister's age were most attractive to him, because he was more at ease around thirteen year olds, than boys his own age. His mother would often babysit for her political friends, but when a meeting came up which they all wanted to attend, babysitters were in short supply, and she would offer Christian to her closest friends. Christian would make a show of reluctantly agreeing, but secretly he enjoyed it tremendously. He loved little kids, boys and girls, loved talking with them, playing with them, caring for them; but he never thought of them as sexually attractive. Not, that is, until he saw this little boy, who now stepped even closer to Christian, so that their thighs touched. Gracefully, the youngster leaned his weight against Christian's leg, and it felt warm and comfortable to both boys.

"My name is Stewart Landers, what's yours?"

"Christian Howard," was his smiling reply.

"Where's Mrs. Howard, are you her son?" Stewart asked, wiggling his thigh a little against Christian's.

"Yes, my mother's swimming, so I'm taking care of the cards for a few minutes," Christian explained.

"Are you a boy or a man?" Kids asked the most surprising things, but it just made Christian laugh.

"I guess I'm still a boy, but I'll be a man in a few years," Christian chuckled.

"I wish I was as big as you," Stewart said so sincerely, that Christian was quite touched.

"You will be, even bigger than me someday," Christian responded, dancing his leg up and down ever so slightly, giving Stewart a jiggle.

"Stewart!" a man shouted suddenly, "where's the orange towel?" He must be Stewart's father. Christian hadn't realized that Mr. Landers had a son. He recognised Mr. Landers, who had a house right on the park, as his family's was, only Mr. Landers' house was at this end of the park, near the pool, while Christian's was at the other end. Stewart walked toward Mr. Landers, but only went half way, about twenty feet, and pointed to a bench behind Mr. Landers, raising his whole arm in a languid way, index finger barely outstretched. The afternoon sun reflecting off the concrete lit the underside of Stewart's arm and his smooth childish armpit to a peachy cool hue, in contrast to the bright orange-yellow light on his squarely set shoulder tops and quintessentialy boyish chest. Mr. Landers spun round and retrieved the orange towel, packing their belongings in a canvas bag. Stewart turned back toward Christian, and when Mr. Landers came up to him, they walked together to the card table and Christian. Christian had their cards ready, and handed Mr. Landers his first, and then Stewart his.

"You're Mrs. Howard's son aren't you?" Mr. Landers barely asked before Stewart objected.

"I'm not leaving yet, I want to swim some more!" Stewart shouted.

"You do?" Mr. Landers asked, as surprised as Christian, adding, "Come over here and talk to me," and he pulled Stewart about ten feet away, where he talked quietly to him. Christian couldn't hear, but he watched Mr. Landers squat down, and put his hands on Stewart's slender hips, sliding them up the boy's pale body so that his thumbs came to rest over Stewart's little nipples, and massaging them gently. The two seemed to come to some agreement, and Mr. Landers shook Stewart's chest tenderly, stood up, and patted the boy's tow colored hair. Watching this, Christian knew he wished to touch Stewart all over, in just the same way the boy's father had, and he was surprised, because it came from deep within Christian's heart, and he couldn't control it. The two Landers' came up to the card table again, and Stewart triumphantly handed his card back to Christian. Mr. Landers asked, "The pool does close at six tonight, doesn't it?"

Christian said, "Yes," and Mr. Landers turned to Stewart.

"You be home at six, then, okay? No dawdling around?"

"Yup!" Stewart replied, full of pride, and grinning.

Mr. Landers patted Stewart's head again, took a couple of steps backwards, then turned and left. Walking down the path, he turned once and looked back, then walked on out of sight. Stewart never turned to watch his father go, but waited till he was sure his father was gone, and then, looking over his shoulder quickly, he stepped forward to resume his former position pressing his thigh to Christian's.

"Will you come swimming with me?" Stewart asked, withdrawing his thigh's warm touch, and standing almost at attention.

"Sure, but I have to wait for my mother to finish her swim first," Christian explained. Stewart turned his head to look at Mrs. Howard and her companion.

"Is that your father?" he asked, and Christian turned to look at his mother and Ben Schaeffer, too.

"No, my father travels," and Christian added, "he's only home on weekends," and he turned back towards Stewart just as Stewart threw his leg over Christian's, sitting pony style on Christian's leg. Christian didn't mind at all, but he wondered what his mother would think. He smiled at Stewart, however, and dandled him a bit. Stewart's still damp bathing suit was just like Christian's, a royal blue racer style, like the swim team's, only Stewart's was much smaller, naturally. The dampness made Stewart's suit cling to his abdomen, and Christian could clearly see his one inch penis outlined.

"My father has a new wife, I don't like her." Stewart stated plainly, and he began arching his back and releasing, causing him to gently rock on Christian's leg. As he rocked forward each time, his little penis pressed against Christian's thigh. The little boy even placed his hands on Christian's leg, as if to steady himself, as if to insure that each rolling motion forward would impress his penis into the older boy's thigh. The small hands were quite close to the older boy's groin, and Christian looked down to see that Stewart's penis was now three inches long, and clearly erect. This surprised Christian, since he couldn't remember having an erection before he was eleven. When he discovered it, he also discovered masturbation. He had simply assumed puberty was the same for all boys. Perhaps, he thought now, he had some reading to do. Christian could feel the shape of the little boner against his flesh as the rocking got wilder, and the smaller boy's right hand slipped from Christian's thigh, so that his face came to rest on Christian's chest, and that same right hand of Stewart's came to rest on that part of Christian which had already responded with it's own six inches of erection. In that moment, each boy knew the light headed feeling they felt in their stomachs, was felt by the other. Christian released the chairs arms, and grasped, instead, the tender and fragile young rib cage laying upon his own, and both boys were content to remain like that, motionless, for a golden moment. Christian then straightened Stewart up, back in the saddle, as it were, and each smiled upon the other with pink lips, white teeth, and bright eyes.

"Whoa, cowboy, almost lost your pony there!" Christian laughed.

"I saw you swim underwater before," Stewart proudly announced.

"You did?" Christian responded, "I didn't know you were watching me," and merrily tousled Stewart's hair.

"I can't hold my breath that long."

Mrs. Howard, Ben Schaeffer, and Mr. Bee, the lifeguard, were standing at the far end of the pool, not in the water, talking; and presently, they came over to the bench behind the card table. Mrs. Howard and Ben toweled themselves, making br-r-r sounds. Of course, Mrs. Howard knew Stewart, and she told Mr. Bee and Ben Schaeffer how proud she was of the way her son got along with little children, and how he would make a good father some day. They spoke of the boys as if they weren't there, couldn't hear, but then they all looked at the boys, smiling, as if the boys should understand they meant not to demean, but held a sort of parental and community pride. The one positive aspect of this, for the two boys, was that they both lost their erections, and could now stand without embarrassment. So stand they did, since there were no others at the pool now besides themselves and the three adults, and they jogged off to splash in the water. There Christian taught Stewart to breast stroke underwater, and the smaller boy swam an entire width of the pool under the surface for the first time in his life, and they variously climbed out to cannonball one another, which they knew would now be permitted, since no one else was about to object; and dunked each other; and Christian, with Stewart's feet in his hands, thrust the little fellow like a rocket, from the water splashing into the water. Christian, laughing as much as Stewart, also tossed his darling giggler by the bottom, placing, cupping his palms upon that curiously attractive part of the human anatomy, especially Stewart's round little fanny. The frollicking and fun, laughter and excitement, even tenderness and endearment continued unabated for some time, and as the inevitable six o'clock turned up, Stewart even kissed Christian unexpectedly upon his cheek, adding immeasurably to their pleasures. But a difference unknown to either boy welled between them, unlike the difference in their ages or sizes. As Stewart left the pool and trotted off towards home, shouting back...

"Good-bye!" to Christian, and...

"Bye!" from Christian in return...

...he raced to new pleasures and even new sorrows that would occupy his life to come equally with his past, and live urgently, for some time, in the moment, never looking back. But Christian had unknowingly passed his first Janus faced moment, and perhaps the greatest one. For as he walked home with his mother, he realized that he would not, after all, become great good friends with Stewart, owing to the difference in their ages. The sinking feeling was heavier upon his soul due to what he could not imagine: that for the rest of his life, he would be seeking a return to the past. The past of that golden moment, when those silky hairs tickled his shoulder, the moment of that sweet face upon his chest, the mystical stirring in his groin that was echoed against his thigh, the mutual arousal that vibrated in their stillness, in that moment when he held a fragile tenderness, a sexual and sensual innocence, beneath his caressing fingertips, and gloried in their exchange of simple human warmth.

That moment in the chair that Christian's subconscious mind wanted to go on forever, only the gods know cannot. Christian would seek that moment for the rest of his life.