> ADULT CONTENT! ENTER HERE!! >>>
Related article: AC94
Absolute Convergence: Alvarado Court
By John Yager
This is the fourth of five chapters of a new Absolute
While this story is being added to the existing
Absolute Convergence file, it constitutes an independent, self-contained
narrative. I've given this sequel the subtitle Alvarado Court for
reasons which will become obvious as the story unfolds. While it will be
helpful for readers to know the original Absolute Convergence series, in
which all the principal characters were introduced, this story should stand
Absolute Convergence made its first appearance
in January, 2002, as a series which eventually ran to a total of eighty
chapters, the last of which was posted in January, 2004. I never anticipated
the series continuing for so long and I am still amazed by the incredible
loyalty of readers who stayed with me from the beginning.
I also appreciate those newer readers who have
contacted me from time to time to say that they've discovered this series
and ventured through the collected chapters.
I'm always glad to receive comments, questions,
criticism and encouragement and hope to continue hearing from you. I try
to Cp Paysite answer all messages promptly. If I'm slow at times it's only because
of the pressures of work.
Andrew continues to give me much needed proofing
and editorial help for which I am sincerely grateful.
The author holds exclusive copyright (© 2004)
to this story. It may not be reproduced in any form without the specific
written permission of the author. It is assigned to the Nifty Archive under
the terms of their submission agreement but it may not be copied or archived
on any other site without the written permission of the author.
All the stories I've posted on NIFTY can be found
by looking under my name in the NIFTY Prolific Authors lists. If you'd
like to receive e-mail notification of subsequent postings, previews of
upcoming stories, and other bits and pieces, please let me know by sending
your request to the e-mail address below.
I did very little obvious work the
rest of that day. At least, it wouldn't have seemed like work to anyone
watching me, but sometimes the mental battles associated with the creative
process are the hardest work of all.
After Sam and Nat left us, William
settled into his usual routine, spreading endless financial summaries over
the table, then over the bed and finally, over a good part of the floor
of our bedroom. I knew from watching him do this many times before that
there was some secret order in his apparent madness but to watch him it
seemed like chaos.
I often retreated to the little balcony
off our bedroom to read or make notes. That day, Tuesday, however, I took
a small notebook and headed off alone for the boathouse, telling William
that I'd be back in time for lunch at 1:00.
Sitting on the cool dock, looking
out over the deep blue waters of Lake Tahoe, I thought through everything
I knew about William Desmond Taylor and his murder in 1922. I tried to
see things as Sam had seen them, not as an orderly police investigation
surrounded by a media circus but as a single, swirling chain of events
in which police officials and studio executives and a bevy of reporters
stampeded Taylor's bungalow and the grounds around it. Sam has suggested
that it had not been chance disorder at all, but a deliberate and even
orchestrated attempt to muddy the waters, confuse or even destroy evidence.
I tried to think how I could organize
a story, a novel, around those events and use it as a starting point for
a description of gay life in Hollywood in the early 1920s. The longer I
considered the complex issues, the more discouraged I became. I had
no expectations of solving the mystery of Taylor's death. Many people
had tried, a dozen or more with training in criminology.
The more I thought about the case,
the less I was interested in solving it. I began to see it as a springboard
for a rather different story, one sat in the present, not in the past,
and dealing with the issues which surrounded it, not the actual facts,
known and unknown.
I've always considered myself an
optimistic and cheerful person, never subject to overwhelming pessimism
or discouragement, never plagued by depression, yet by midmorning I was
almost overcome by a deep sense of melancholy, even dread.
It wasn't that I had some reaction
to the misfortune of Taylor's murder over sixty years before. It was far
too late to mourn his death.
What struck me, as I considered the
conclusions Sam had reached, and slowly made them my own, was that a group
of powerful people, probably powerful men, had conspired to cover up a
murder, to conceal the truth, in order to protect their own secrets.
As I thought more about the known
facts of the Taylor case, it seemed very likely that the primary secret
they were so desperate to hide had to do with the homosexual activities
of those same powerful men.
Was the social climate in 1922 such
that public exposure as a gay man or woman was something that demanded
avoidance, even at the cost of committing unethical, even illegal actions?
That thought was in itself disturbing,
but what struck me as an even more overwhelming truth was that public acceptance
of gay and lesbian people hadn't really changed that much in the intervening
In a period of over sixty years,
little, it seemed, if any progress had been made. If Taylor's murder, or
one similar to it, had occurred in 1984, would the same thing have happened?
It seemed likely to me that it would, that the entire thing would have
been swept under the carpet, rather than endanger Cp Paysite the images and careers
or famous and powerful people. The recognition of that fact made me almost
But by then, the summer of 1985,
a great deal had changed, if not in public perceptions, at least in the
personal lives of gay men and women. Tragically, much of that change had
been negative. Hundreds, probably thousands, of people in Hollywood, throughout
the United States, Canada, the UK, and western Europe, were still living
in a world of secrecy and deceit. In the less developed world conditions
could be even worse.
The greatest changes, of course,
had been brought on by the AIDS crisis. Lives were not only being changed,
they were being destroyed. The disease had ravaged gay communities everywhere
and had touched heterosexuals as well. It had caused the loss of some of
our finest minds; creative people, artists, musicians, teachers, professional
people from every walk of life, as well as so many young men, whose promise
would never be fulfilled.
AIDS was a tragedy for everyone,
whether they recognized it or not. It had swept through cities, universities,
rural areas, and we would never know the treasures we'd lost; the unwritten
poem, the symphony which would never be heard, the medical discovery unmade
or postponed, the list was endless.
As I sat on the boathouse dock,
I sank into a dark, bottomless gloom, my usual buoyant disposition lost
in the abyss of sorrow, anger and hopelessness. The breeze coming off the
lake had become uncomfortably cold, reflecting my own mood.
So little had changed in my lifetime,
so little had changed in the sixty years since the murder of William Desmond
Taylor. There seemed to be so little chance of change, gradual or sudden.
"I don't want gradual progress,"
William had said the evening before, "I want to be open and out and accepted
now, while we're still young enough to enjoy it."
What chance was there of change,
what likelihood that William and I would live to see a day when gay men
and women could be open and free to express their sexuality and their love?
I eventually looked at my watch and
realized it was nearly time for lunch. The morning had slipped by and I'd
not written a word in the notebook I'd brought along. I stumbled back to
the lodge, more miserable than I could ever remember being. The shock of
my father's death or the deaths of friends I'd seen wither around me, none
of that compared with the collective realization that we, William and I,
Sam and Nat, all the other gay and lesbian people I knew, were still regarded
as outcasts, as a marginalized segment of society.
AIDS might be killing us, but society
as a whole was crushing us. I felt overwhelmed by my new insight, depressed,
frightened and angry. It was an awful moment in my life, but it was a necessary
moment. It was the point at which the project I had envisioned became clear
in my mind. But more importantly it was the moment when I saw the fate
and future of gay people everywhere as a cause which could not be ignored.
It would become, to one degree or another, my life's work.
When I reached the lodge William
was sitting with Sam and Nat at the dining room table.
"We were just about to go looking
for you," William said, a cheerful tone in his voice which told me he'd
had a productive morning.
"Sorry," I said, Cp Paysite taking my place
as Mary came in from the kitchen with a steaming pot of soup.
"It seems cool today," she said,
her own voice chipper and friendly. "A good day to start lunch with a hot
chowder and fresh baked bread."
I was silent through lunch, only
entering into the conversation when drawn into it. I had so much I wanted
to say, but felt the time was wrong.
Back in our room, William said what
I knew he must have been thinking during the meal. "You seem in a funk."
"Yes," I admitted as we got out of
our clothes and settled on the bed. It was a luxury we enjoyed most afternoons
at Tahoe but seldom had when at home in LA, Cp Paysite caught up in our usual hectic
schedule. That day, especially, I needed the comfort of William's embrace.
The room was cool and the French
windows to the little deck were open, allowing a soft breeze from the lake
to waft across our naked bodies. We made love slowly, lovingly, caring
for each other, aware of our different needs. William's, I knew were mostly
sexual. That was okay. I loved him so deeply and would be happy to assuage
his lust, even if that was all it was, but I knew it was much more. He
loved me in return, sensing my hurt, but not yet understanding it.
Later, resting in each other's arms,
I told him of my thoughts that morning and the realizations they'd brought.
"I've had the same feelings, Robert,"
he said, Cp Paysite rolling over onto his side and gently kissing my ear. "They never
came together in my mind so completely, but I've felt the same frustrations."
"I want this book I'm planning to
be more than a simple narrative, Will. I want it to address issues, really
deal with the deeply rooted problems."
"The most basic problem, I think,
is lack of understanding," William said. "Before the heterosexual community
can accept, they must understand."
"That's a tall order."
"I know, but I trust your abilities,
lover," he whispered. "It's a book that has been needed for a very long
time and I know you can write it."
That evening over dinner I told Sam
and Nat about my thoughts. As we continued our conversation they made several
excellent suggestions dealing with the police investigation of Taylor's
murder, small points which seemed to confirm the intentional muddying of
the case. Individually the points they raised were insignificant but collectively
they pointed strongly to intent.
"Properly trained policemen just
don't make that many mistakes, even considering the standards of the nineteen-twenties,"
"Unless they were intentionally messing
things up," Nat added.
As we went on talking about the issues
I'd considered that morning on the boathouse dock, discussing the fears
and the discrimination and the impact of the AIDS crisis, Mrs. Abernathy
stood by listening in silence. Finally she spoke. "I think Miriam should
hear this. She might be able to make some valuable comments."
"Cook?" I asked.
"Yes, Cook. Her name is Miriam Tobias,
In all the years William and I had
been coming to the lodge at Lake Tahoe, I'd never heard her full name.
"My father died at Belsen," Miriam
began. William and I, along with Sam and Nat, sat in the living room of
the old lodge having coffee. We'd been joined by Lois Abernathy, who ran
the lodge, and Miriam Tobias, whom we'd known for many years as Cook.
"I had no idea," I said, shocked
at how little I knew about the woman.
"I have no memories of all that.
I was just a baby when I arrived in the States with my mother and brother
"Your mother and brother survived
the camps?" William asked
"They were never in the camps. My
father managed to hide our family with a farm family he knew near Tubigen.
He was caught in the very last months of the war when he went into the
village to sell a few of my parents' remaining possessions. He died of
typhus in the epidemic that swept the camp just before the war ended."
"Is that where you were born?" William
"No, I was born in a displaced persons'
camp a few months after the war had ended. My father never knew mother
"And you and your mother and brother
were able to come to the United States," I said.
"Yes, we settled first in Chicago,
then in 1953, came on to California. My brother and his family emigrated
to Israel in 1966 and are still living there in one of the new towns in
"How on earth did you ever find
your way to Tahoe," I asked. It seemed like such an unlikely place for
a woman like Miriam Tobias to settle.
"It was Dexter Cohen who arranged
this job for me," Miriam went on. "My mother worked for him for many years
and he did a great deal to help our family."
"Miriam was married, you know," Lois
added. "She has a grown son and grandchildren in Los Angeles.
"And you, Lois," Miriam said, "you
have grandchildren as well."
"Yes," Lois Abernathy agreed with
a smile. "We'd both had other lives before coming here."
I quickly calculated their probable
age and determined that Miriam, at least, must have had a child, or children,
at a very early age to already have grandchildren. I wondered if Lois was,
in fact, a little older than Miriam.
"You came here together?" William
"No," Lois said, "I've lived Cp Paysite
whole life near here and was hired as housekeeper by Mr. Cohen just a month
or so before Miriam arrived to be his cook." As she spoke, Lois reached
out to take the other woman's hand. "It was one of the great wonders of
my life, finding Miriam."
Both women smiled and we were all
silent for a moment, absorbing the confidence they had shared.
"How long have the two of you been
together?" William asked.
"We've both been here at Mr. Cohen's
lodge for fifteen years, since 1969, but we've only been a couple for ten
years," Lois said.
"Yes," Miriam smiled. "We were both
slow admitting to ourselves and each other how we really felt. It was an
odd experience for both of us, realizing that we were in love with another
"William and I have been together
thirteen years now, but we figured it out quicker than you did," I chuckled.
"I guess loving another man wasn't such a new concept to either of us."
"Yes, we'd remembered this week
was a sort of anniversary celebration for you," Miriam said. "We have a
sort of special supper planned for you for Friday night."
"You two were so adorable, that
first time you were here. Miriam and I said to each other that you were
in love. You were such children then, we thought."
"We were twenty-two," I smiled,
"not all that young."
"And now you are both thirty-five?"
"Yes," William and I said together.
"Still kids," Nat said with a grin.
"I guess I can say that Lois and Miriam and Sam and I are all now past
"Well," Miriam laughed, "I'm just
"And I'm the old lady of the bunch,"
Lois admitted with a simile. "I'll be forty-six in a few weeks."
"You're both young to be grandmothers,"
"Perhaps, but I'm certainly glad
we both married and had our children at a young age. That way by the time
Miriam and I met, we were both free."
"Did you raise your kids here at
the lodge?" I asked. Thinking back, I couldn't remember ever seeing children
here during our early visits.
"Yes, but we both lived in staff
cottages then. You'd not have seen them," Lois said. "Now we share a bedroom
and sitting room upstairs in the north wing of the lodge." She paused,
and then went on, "but the reason I wanted you to talk with Miriam was
so she could tell you something that her brother wrote to her from Israel
recently." She paused, looking over at the other woman. "Did you bring
"Yes," Miriam said, reaching into
the pocket of her full skirt and extracting a few sheets of folded paper.
"It is mostly family news so I'll only read this one part. 'I have considered
many times the suggestion so many have made, that the Holocaust was the
price G_d demanded for the founding of our Jewish Homeland. I do not believe
G_d works in such ways. I do believe, though, that within the human
community the horrors of Nazi Germany had a great influence on world opinion
and led many people who had previously opposed the formation of a Jewish
state to change their minds and support it.'"
Miriam had spelled out "G_d," enunciating
only the consonants, rather than actually say the sacred name, as is the
habit with religious Jews.
We were silent for several moments
considering the passage Miriam had read. The thought was not new to me.
I'd heard others suggest the same thing but, for a moment, the reason these
two women thought it was relevant to the conversation we'd been having
escaped me. Then, of course, I understood.
"Are you suggesting that the AIDS
crisis could play a similar role toward the acceptance of gay and lesbian
"Yes," Miriam said. "I do not believe
G_d sent AIDS to punish gay people, but I do suspect that out of every
disaster some good may come."
"Because the heterosexual community
would have some new sympathy for us?"
"Perhaps, in some small way, but
what is more important, I believe, is that when any group suffers such
loss, it can rebound with a greater sense of identity and purpose. I believe
it is time for gay and lesbian people to come together. We may have differences,
great diversity, but we also has so much in common. I believe it is time
for us to become a true community, not a local community, but one that
spans every corner of the world.
The woman spoke with such clarity
and with such simple eloquence that I was silenced by what she'd said.
There, in a few words, was the vision I'd searched for.
I turned to William who, like the
rest of us, sat silent.
"Miriam is right, Robert," he finally
said. "It is time. Maybe it has taken AIDS to show us that simple fact."
After another pause, Sam said, "I
was in college when the Stonewall riots occurred. I somehow thought it
would bring gay people together, but perhaps it was too localized."
"Well, AIDS sure as hell isn't localized,"
Nat snarled. "Miriam is right, gentlemen. It's time, way past time. We
need to come together, form organizations, get small local groups connected
to other small local groups . . ."
Nat paused to catch his breath and
Sam took up the cry. "Something needs to be done to bring gay people together,
to make them realize that the straight world will never give us understanding
and support until we reach out and take it for ourselves."
"You are all certainly right." William
said. "There isn't a single gay person who hasn't been touched by the AIDS
epidemic. We've all lost lovers or friends or business associates. Even
the few who have not been directly touched have lived in fear of the disease,
waking in the dark of night, wondering if we'd been exposed, wondering
if we were the next to contract that awful scourge.
Yes, we all agreed, it was time!
To be continued.
Related post: 3d Nymphet, Lolicon Toplist, Teen Lolita Hussyfan Pics, Underage Pthc, Lsmagazine Bbs, Illegal Preteen Nymphets, Under 14 Models, Lolitas Bbs Pics, All Lolita Site Nymphet, Nn Preteen Girls, Preteen Models Nn, Pedo Stories, Underage Girl Porn, Tiny Nymphet Portal, Preteen Nude Nymphets, Child Toplist, Preteen Tits, Angel Bbs Innocent, Max Lolita Bbs, Sandra Bbs