CHAPTER SIXTEEN Luke

Like my work shifts at the bakery, I was alone until closing at the furniture store. I didn't mind cleaning up. Being away from the compound and having alone time suited me. The carpenters and Josiah, the other apprentice, left at five. I glanced at the wall clock. Half-past five with an hour and a half to go before closing at seven.

Friday nights were slow at Half Moon Ranch Furniture. I figured the outsiders had other things to do on Friday nights besides shopping for tables and bookshelves. Those same outsiders, or the locals, knew that anytime the word Ranch was attached to a business name in Bend or Madras, the business more than likely belonged to the folks out at Half Moon Ranch.

I'd once joked with Josiah that we should just name every store we owned, The Moonies, to make it clearer. He'd agreed, but we both admitted the nickname stung when used against us, which it was, far too often.

"The locals just don't understand us," he'd stated, tucking the identical, short-sleeved, white, button-down shirt I wore, into his also identical, too-large jeans.

I lifted my arms and looked down at my clothing. "How could they understand us?" I'd asked. "Look at us, Josiah. We dress weird."

In my opinion, we did dress oddly. Every male, from the young boys to the elders, dressed the same. The women folk also dressed like each other, except they could wear different colors, but only the same matching dress design.

Having overheard conversations with the crew earlier, I knew Franklin wouldn't be stopping by that night. He was conducting a meeting with the elders, so I was clear to unbutton my shirt. I kept it tucked in just in case a customer stopped by, though. Someone showing up on a Friday before closing would be rare, so I undid the top two buttons, feeling sorta wild with my decision.

Rules were not to be broken at Half Moon, and if they were, punishment was swift and severe. I felt a small rush of victory with my undone-button rule-breaking, feeling almost prideful, another sin in Franklin's long list of them.

Truthfully, I was amazed I still hadn't been kicked off the ranch or locked in solitary after my behavior in Franklin's office a week ago. My actions were plain awful, sinning at the height of sin, and it was my fault he did what he did to me. I knew it was bold of me—and completely wrong—but once he began, I'd focused on Tate while Franklin soiled himself, and me, doing vile things.

After I shuddered uncontrollably in my release from his actions, sperm leaving my penis, Franklin stood. His face was red and anguished. Probably embarrassed by his conduct.

"Put your clothes on, boy," he'd muttered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Even though what he'd done to me felt surprisingly good, I was disgusted by his behavior, as well as my own. Someone else's mouth on my penis had to be a sin. Such things were not discussed within our community, and I certainly hadn't known such an act was done by men. I got through it because of my ability to focus my thoughts on Tate, imagining it was him who was on his knees in front of me. Somehow, Tate putting his mouth on me or mine on his made me feel excited.

There would be consequences for sure, because Franklin had the power to do whatever he wanted, up to and including throwing me off the ranch. My actions that day were beyond acceptable, but still, nothing was said, nothing was done. I had humiliated and mocked our leader, God's disciple. I figured I'd better pack for hell.

"You will regret this behavior, Luke," he'd stated.

"I apologize, sir,"I'd said, scrambling to get dressed while he continued staring at my naked body.

You'd think he'd be embarrassed about his actions, turning away rather than ogling me, but he didn't seem to care.

"You have my permission to work full time at the furniture store, but know this, I'll be stopping by frequently," he'd warned. "For more favors.And next time, boy, you'll be the one on his knees."

I had no reason not to take his threat seriously. My forehead perspired as I relived my horrible offense with Franklin. If I'd been afraid of him in the past, I'd just assured myself that he'd be intent on making my life even more difficult.

I nearly jumped out of my skin and yelped when the chime at the front door rang out. Quickly re-buttoning my shirt, I hustled up front to greet the customers.

"Hello, Luke," Tate greeted me when I came around the corner.

"Hello," I replied, instantly anxious over him being there, and fighting the butterflies in my stomach. I also battled with the fact that I was at once nervous, as well as beyond happy he stood there.

"I'm Tyler," the person with him announced, moving forward and reaching for my hand.

For whatever reason, I wiped my hand on my jeans before extending it to him. Tyler was handsome. He appeared to be a couple of years older than me and he dressed fancy like Tate did. He was an attractive man for sure, but my first feeling was disappointment at seeing him with Tate.

Tate's friend looked familiar to me, like he'd been in the bakery or here before. This definitely wasn't the first time I'd seen him. I couldn't understand the jealousy that I was experiencing at seeing Tate with another man. The feeling was new to me, and I didn't like it all that much.

"Nice to meet you, sir," I responded.

Tyler's arms flopped exaggeratingly to his sides, a frown appearing on his face when he turned to Tate. "‘Sir?'" he complained, stomping a foot for effect. He placed a hand on one hip. "Have I become a sir?" he asked Tate, glancing between Tate and me. "Oh, my God," he said, running toward a nearby dresser and its mirror, leaning toward his reflection.

"You look fine, Tyler," Tate said, turning to me and rolling his eyes when Tyler turned back to the mirror.

"I absolutely cannot get old in this town," Tyler muttered, pulling at the sides of his eyes for some reason. "What man wants a wrinkled, old sourpuss?"

As hard as I tried, I couldn't stop staring at Tate's friend. I'd never heard a man talk like he did. He was an adult male, not a girl, like his actions appeared. Tall, muscular, lean, and definitely a man. Why did he speak like women folk?

"I didn't mean to speak unkindly, sir," I said to Tyler, glancing at Tate and hoping he'd offer backup to my poor manners.

"You're good, Luke," Tate interjected.

Tyler hurried back, stepping between Tate and me. "I'll decide if he's good or not," he began, turning his focus to me. "Perhaps Luke here can buy me a drink to make up for hurting my feelings."

"Is water okay?" I replied. "We have bottled for our customers. Fresh-baked cookies, too, if you'd like some of those."

Tyler laughed out loud. "Are you punking me, stud?" he asked, slapping my arm. He turned to Tate. "Is he joking?"

"I don't think Luke drinks alcohol, Tyler," Tate stated. "So, I imagine buying you a drink, as you said, is also out of the realm of possibilities."

"There's no cost for the water, Tate," I stated. "So I sorta could buy him a drink," I added, trying to be nice to Tate's friend.

"Tyler isn't talking about water, Luke. He's suggesting you take him to a bar or a club and buy him a cocktail," Tate explained.

I had completely misunderstood. "I couldn't go to a place that serves alcohol," I said. "I'm only nineteen."

Tyler stepped closer, grabbed my arm, and leaned against me. "I could purchase the alcohol, Luke," he said, his voice quieter. "And then you could come over to my place."

The kind smile on Tate's face disappeared as his friend spoke. He seemed upset with Tyler. "I don't drink alcohol, sir, and I'm not sure I could visit you either," I explained. "I hope you don't think I'm being unkind by not accepting your invitation."

"Tyler is teasing you, Luke," Tate said, giving Tyler a stern look. "He doesn't know that your beliefs don't allow for drinking alcohol."

"Oh, okay," I replied. "I understand."

Tyler hadn't let go of my arm yet, his other hand gripping my biceps. "But you could still come over, right?" he asked. "Maybe hang out… or something."

"Enough, Tyler!" Tate snapped, anger in his voice. "Luke does not get your not-so-thinly veiled invitation."

Tate was right; I didn't know what Tyler was on about. He was an attractive person, but seemed a bit unusual to me. I couldn't put together what there was about him that confused me. Plus, I had never encountered a man who stood directly against me and stroked my arm before.

"Do you date?" Tyler asked, scowling at Tate before turning his attention back to me. "Nineteen is certainly an age a person should be able to date, right? Be your own man, if you know what I mean."

"I'm not promised to a woman yet, but courting isn't allowed outside my community."

"Let it go, Tyler," Tate warned, shaking his head after seeing Tyler's mouth drop open as he stepped back.

Apparently, Tyler didn't care about Tate's concern and grabbed my arm again. "Promised?" he asked. "And to a woman, no less. Eewwww."

Tate grabbed Tyler's arm and yanked him away from me. He seemed irritated at Tyler and concerned about my feelings. "Okay, Tyler. That is quite enough from you."

Everything that was happening was completely foreign to me. I felt like I was either out of the loop of a joke or was the joke. I couldn't tell which. Tate acted like he was on my side and unhappy with his friend's behavior, so that made me feel good inside. But for the life of me, I had zero idea why Tyler was behaving strangely. He'd never spoken to me when I'd seen him before.

"I just want to know if he's gay or not, so I don't waste my time in this place," Tyler said, fighting free of Tate and adjusting his clothes.

"I'm sorry, Luke. My associate and I need to leave now," Tate said, his handsome face suddenly very red. He reached for Tyler's arm, but his associate quickly moved away, standing close to me once again.

"Apologize to Luke please," Tate said.

"Chillax, boss man," he replied. "I simply want to know if Luke here is gay or not gay."

"Don't answer that, Luke," Tate said, holding his hand up and finally getting his free hand on Tyler. "We are leaving."

Tyler wouldn't budge. "Well?" Tyler asked, practically being dragged to the front door, but still managing to maintain eyes on me.

"I'm not sure what that word means," I admitted.

Tate's eyes filled like he was about to cry. He was upset with Tyler or me. I wasn't sure who. "That is quite all right, Luke," he whispered. His voice cracked as he glared at Tyler. "We're leaving now."

"It means, are you a homosexual?" Tyler blurted out, still trying to fight Tate off.

"Jesus, Tyler!" Tate yelled. "What the fuck?" Tate let go of his friend and backed off, shaking his head in disgust.

"What?" Tyler squealed, glaring at Tate and then turning back to me. "Luke here is fucking hot, and I want to know."

"Being a homosexual is a sin," I answered. "I'm not allowed to be a homosexual."

"Well, there you have it!" Tyler exclaimed. "He isn't a homosexual because being a homosexual is a sin. We are both out of luck, Tate."

Tate shook his head back and forth, seemingly offended, as he backed toward the door. "I'm so sorry, Luke" he whispered, turning and walking out the entrance.

I hadn't wanted Tate to leave because I wanted to get to know more about him. And today would've been perfect because I was alone. But Tate was not alone, and now he'd left me alone with a complete stranger who was peppering me with inappropriate questions.

"So, you're sure you're not a homosexual?" Tyler asked. I nodded that I wasn't, needing him out of my face so I could talk with Tate. "Come on," he soothed. "I can do things to you that will blow your mind. Pardon the pun, big guy. And I won't tell anyone if you want to be on the down-low, stud. I promise."

I gazed at him and remained silent as he stepped toward me. When he was less than two feet from me, I voiced a suggestion. "I wouldn't come any closer, sir."

"It'll be loads of fun, Luke. All you have to do is lay there," he whispered, reaching a hand toward me. "I'll do everything. And I'm very good at pleasing a man." I met his outstretched hand with one of mine. "Ooohhhh, so manly and strong, stud," he whispered. I applied more effort. His eyes widened, and he looked at his hand, then back to me, unwilling to comply with the message. I squeezed harder once again until his face grimaced. "Fucking Moonie," he spat.

"Are you done?" I asked. He refused to answer. I increased my grip, knowing I was barely into the strength I could muster. "I asked you, sir. Are you done?" Nothing. I bent his wrist further back, maintaining a firm grip until he dropped to his knees.

"Yes," he gasped.

"Leave now. Don't come here again."

I glanced toward the door, offering him the directions for a safe exit. Tate was outside the door, looking in.