The Front Runner

he ran: hard, deliberate, trancelike.
    Then with a lithe twist of his body, he was over the armrest and into my arms, half-sitting between my thighs, twisted to press against me, his arms around my neck. We held each other with frantic tightness, as if to make up all at once for the five months of pain. We were almost one body just from sheer pressure, and our mouths stayed together in an unrestrained open kiss.
    My hands moved down him slowly, feeling him rather than caressing him, almost as if to make sure he was really there. I felt the long lean back through his sweater, then his narrow waist, a burning bare strip of skin where the sweater was pulled up. He was trying to feel me too, which was more difficult, but finally he got one hand inside my suit jacket, and felt my chest and my side.
    Now and then we looked at each other, as if in disbelief, our eyes black with emotion. I held his head and kissed his face and his eyes, and he kept turning his head to kiss my hands. He precipitated me back to that first time 11 years before, so forceful and tender that he made it all new, except that this time, instead of amyl nitrite, it was love that had me stinging.
    But we didn't do anything more than that. There was a silent agreement that we weren't going to do it in the theater. His hips were clamped firmly between
    my thighs, but with an unmoving dreamlike pulsing heaviness. We were both trembling with exhaustion, and content to rest against each other, like two drowning men who had just hauled themselves up on some floating wreckage.
    Finally I whispered, "When did you fall in love with me, you spoiled brat?"
    "Right away," he said against my cheek. "But I hid it because you were so cold. I thought I was going to lose my marbles."
    I ruffled his hair. We were calming down a little. "You understand the risks, don't you?" I asked.
    "Yes."
    "You may lose your chance at Montreal. I may lose my career. We may lose everything we have."
    "If you're worried about it, then we can't be lovers. But I'll have to leave the school in that case. I can't be around you every day and be held off. You've taught me a few things—maybe I could get to Montreal alone."
    I thought of seeing his face only in newspaper photographs in the future. I thought of him facing all that fury with his youth and inexperience. Running a 27:30 10,000 meter was one thing. Maybe be could do that. But infighting with the track politicos was something else. They would wipe him out.
    "All right," I said. "But don't say I didn't warn you."
    "Darlings," somebody said behind us, "you're better than the movie, but could you be a teensie bit quieter?"
    "Let's get out of this cruddy place," said Billy.
    We walked out into the lobby. My knees were actually shaking. In the lurid flourescent light, amid the billboards and the dusty plastic potted plants, we looked at each other. Billy's face was a strange pale color. His eyes were dark and wild behind his glasses, and his lips were raw. I presumed I looked the same.
    "What about your father?" I said.
    "Oh, hell, he approves," said Billy. "He'll be delighted that I'm not gonna run up his phone bill any more. Calling him up, crying ..."
    "All right, wait here and I'll tell him."
    I went up to the balcony. John and Rayburn were either finished, or not in the mood, as they were sitting there calmly viewing the film. I sat down by John for a moment.
    "I'm going to take Billy back up to school. No alarm. He needs a good night's sleep. Why don't you come up tomorrow afternoon?"
    John looked at me. He knew. He smiled a little. "Okay, see you then," he said. With those four words, he surrendered his only son to me.
    Billy and I walked out onto the street. "We'll go get my car and go on up to the school."
    Billy's face fell. "I thought we were going back to the hotel."
    "I'm a romantic," I said. "I'm not going to make love to you the first time in a goddam hotel."
    "But, at school, that's . .. coming out."
    We were walking along the dark street, stepping over garbage and dog shit and broken boards. Since there were no cabs around, we headed for the 9th Street subway station.
    "No," I said. "We'll have to be careful at school. I know Joe won't care, but I don't want to come out with it. What we'll do is, we'll get a good night's sleep first. We're both worn out. Then first thing in the morning we'll go for a little run in the woods. Well find a nice spot up there somewhere."
    Billy's eyes sparkled wickedly. "That's your