USA
Mark Meets Vince - Part 1

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As a thirteen year old kid living in Brentwood, L.A., I was used to seeing Hollywood celebrities at almost every turn, and knowing quite a few of them personally. My dad was a showbiz lawyer and my mom was VP of a record company. Heck, I used to play in Jimmy and Gloria Stewart's back garden, and had neighbours such as Lucille Ball and Rosemary Clooney. My Godfather was [and still is] a famous TV detective, as well as my hero.

So, for me, all the glitz and glam was no biggie. Actors, musicians and other famous people were, to me, just people, and I could never quite understand why busloads of tourists would ride around gawking at the houses of celebs. What did they expect to see? Marlon Brando on a Harley? Fred Astaire doing a pirouette on his front lawn? John Wayne firing six-guns at clay pigeons?

My best friend was John, a kid my age. There was nothing sexual about our relationship. I guessed we were too young to know much about sex, including gay sex, apart from giggling at crude jokes. Our fav pastime was racquetball, and we played about three times a week at the athletic hall on UCLA, about a 15-minute bike ride from my house.

I'd often seen naked guys in the showers at the courts, including my bud John, but I'd never really paid much attention to them. OK, so I'd gawk at the odd dick if it was bigger than normal but, other than that, my gay sexuality was still dormant. Even when I jacked off at home in the bathroom, my fantasies were about as erotic as one of dad's law books. But that was soon to change.

It was after a game of racquetball with John, when we were in the locker room, that he nodded in the direction of another guy. "Hey!" he whispered. "Check out who's here!"

The dude looked about fifteen or so, but wasn't immediately familiar. "So who is he?"

"You know exactly who he is! What's your fav movie?" I reeled off three or four movie titles, but could see that John was getting impatient with me. "Jeez, Mark, you're so damn thick sometimes! He's the guy in "Frogs"!"

"Vince?" It took a moment for the vision to sink in. "You're right! It's him! Awesome!" Vince didn't look all that much older than when he'd appeared in the movie as a kid about five years ago, except that his body was beginning to become more muscular. I guessed he must've been about seventeen, but his face was that of a younger teen. He was about 5' 5", and 125 pounds or so.

He nodded in my direction and smiled, as if to say, "how ya doin'?"

A nervous nod in reply was about all I could muster. I'd seen more celebs than I could remember but, this time, it was different. And it wasn't just 'cause he was a teen hearthrob -- there was something else about him, something that awoke feelings in me that I'd never experienced before. My eyes were riveted to his long, sweat-soaked, brown hair, and his glistening, wet skin. He'd obviously just finished a game of racquetball, and looked kinda beat.

I couldn't believe it when he stripped off the tight, white shorts he was wearing. Apart from sweatbands on his wrists, he was fully naked! No underwear! No supporter! Just skin! Smooth, hairless skin. Then he removed the sweatbands, grabbed a towel and headed for the showers. My eyes were glued until he vanished down the hall.

"Are you OK?"

"Huh?"

"You were looking at Vince kinda weird."

"I was? I guess I was thinking how he's kinda different now to what he was in the movie." There was no way that I wanted John to know what was racing through my mind.

"Last one to the court is a dickhead!"

After John and I had finished our game, I was disappointed to discover that Vince was no longer in the showers. I guessed a 30-minute shower would have been a bit much to expect. But why was I so anxious to see him again? What was it about that dude that appealed to me? I'd never felt like this about anybody before.

At dinner, I must've looked as though I was in another world. "Earth calling Mark," dad laughed. "Hello? Anybody home?"

"Oh, sorry, dad. I was thinking about a guy I met today at the courts."

"Who?" mom asked

"The guy from "Frogs." Vince. He's older now, and he's totally cool."

"Oh? What did you talk about that's got your mind so tied up?"

"Talk? We didn't. He just nodded, that's all. It was like all of fifteen seconds."

"So how do you know he's totally cool?"

"I just know."

"Oh, dear," mom smiled, "I think we could have a crush on our hands."

"A crush? Hey, gimme a break! I don't even know the guy!"

All that night I couldn't get Vince outa my mind. Later, when I went to bed, I fantasized about meeting him again and becoming his friend. I thought about his sweat-soaked body and his smile, but I wasn't sure of exactly what it was about him that made me wanna know him. Was mom right? Was this how a crush started?

During the next few weeks, I played racquetball with John as usual but never got to see Vince again. It was probably just as well 'cause I knew that John would be jealous of Vince if the teen hearthrob and I became friends. Of course, we could have all become friends but, for some reason, I wanted Vince all to myself. Anyway, I was totally pissed that Vince had suddenly and inexplicably become invisible -- but, even in his absence, my determination to meet him remained resolute.

In order to improve my chances, I began to attend the courts an extra couple of times a week on my own. I figured that day when John and I saw Vince could have been a one-off, and that maybe he normally played on other days. My persistence eventually paid off.

The racquetball courts had areas made of transparent plastic so that people on the outside could view the players. As I walked past the row of courts, I finally spotted my quarry. He was playing with an older dude in his late twenties, so I climbed the bleachers and watched the game from there. Vince was pretty handy with his racquet, and super quick on his feet. He gave me the impression that he was 100% fit even though he wasn't built. He had more of an athletic, sinewy type of physique. But he was damn fast, and his reflexes were razor sharp.

Once the game was over, and the guys had started to collect their gear, I hightailed it to the locker room. On the way, I kept having negative thoughts about how weird I was acting, but the need to meet Vince and become his friend drove me on, despite doubts about my sanity, or the foolishness of my plan. "Hey!" I thought to myself as I entered the locker room. "I haven't played! I'm dressed and dry! Why the hell would I be here in the locker room if I'm all neat and tidy? He's gonna suspect something's wrong! Shit! I've gotta think of something quick!"

My heart was pounding like a Salvation Army bass drum as I stripped in record time, then charged into the showers and turned on the taps. "Shit! That was close!" I thought as my body was drenched with water. "Now that I'm wet, nobody will know that I wasn't sweaty before. Saved by the bell! Woohoo!" All I had to do then was wait for Vince to arrive. It was only a matter of time -- maybe just minutes. Or less! Jeez, I had to try to look cool. I didn't want Vince to think I was some lamo groupy. And what would he think of me? Would he just nod again, then leave? My heart sank. What the fuck was I doing? This was crazy! Who the fuck was I to think that Vince was the least bit interested in me! Damn! I was totally fucking nutz! I should never have come here! Too late!

The moment I saw Vince enter the shower room, I faced the wall and busied myself with soap and water, trying to look as nonchalant as possible. From the corner of my eye, I spotted his hand on the tap next to mine, then heard the shower burst into action.

"Hey, you were here the other day. How ya doin?"

"Me?" I turned to face him. "I'm fine! I'm really fine! I'm really, really, really fine!"

"That's a lotta reallies," he grinned.

"Yeah," I laughed. "I guess I'm just kinda feeling pretty damn cool." And why wouldn't I be? Fuck! My plan had worked its ass off! There I was standing right next to the kid I'd idolized for the last five years, ever since "Frogs" had been released! Woohoo!

For the next ten minutes, we talked about racquetball and a bunch of other shit. But it was totally wicked -- just like we'd known each other for ages. I was so damn amped, I thought I was gonna bust! Then we returned to the locker room where he asked me a whole bunch of stuff about my life, school, sport, likes, dislikes, etc. He was really interested in me and made me feel incredibly important. This was way beyond any expectations I'd had. Vince was genuinely interested in ME! Hot damn!

"Where's your friend?" he asked as we headed for the outside the building.

"John? Oh, he's not here. I mean, he's not here now. He had to leave early -- said he'd shower at home."

"OK. Hey, listen, you wanna get together again soon and have a game? You and me?"

"Hey! That'd be really, really... I mean, that'd be way cool! I've seen you play, though. You'll probably kick my butt."

"We'll see. Are you OK for a ride home? I've got wheels."

"I've got my bike."

"I've got a van. We can put your bike in the back."

"If it's no trouble."

"No trouble at all, Mark."

Wow! I was gonna get a ride home with the ultimate heart teenthrob! Hearteen! Whatever. Jeez, I was so damn excited, it was almost impossible to be cool. But I had to give him the impression that it was no biggie. After all, my dad had clients that ranked with the most famous, and our friends and neighbors were all legends. Vince was just another dude. Yeah, right.

"Hey, Mark, I've seen your face around. Y'know, like on TV or something," he observed as I unchained my bike from the rack.

"Yeah, I've done a few ads and stuff. Milk, cereal and candy bars. Y'know, nothing all that great. Not like you've done."

"Have you ever auditioned for a movie?"

"I wanna be in the next one you do," I grinned.

"Next one? Hey, lemme tell you something. We're not all Mickey Roonies or Shirley Temples. So many child actors have use-by dates. It's like you get a bit of fluff on your upper lip and you're on the scrapheap."

"But why? You were totally awesome in "Frogs". You've been my... I mean, like "Frogs" has been my fav movie for a whole five years!"

"I've been your what?"

"Nothing."

"You can tell me."

"You'll think I'm dumb."

"No, I won't."

"Well," I mumbled as we neared his van, and I wheeled my bike up to the sliding door, "hero."

"You serious? I'm your hero?"

"See? I told you it'd sound dumb."

"Hey, Mark, that's not dumb, man. I'm flattered. Honest!"

"Flattered?"

"Yeah. Hey, you're not just any dude, man. You wanna know something? Remember that time you first saw me in the locker room?"

"Yeah."

"Hey, I was so nervous, I didn't say 'hi' 'cause my throat jammed."

"I made you nervous?"

"Sure did," he laughed as he helped me stash the bike in the back of the van. "At that moment, I knew that I wanted to be your friend."

"You? Wanted to be my friend?"

"What's so weird about that?"

"It's just that... well, I was kinda thinking the same thing."

"K," he said as he closed the door, "let's go."

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