Summer in the band

[SwimTeamSpeedo]

Part 1:

The ribbons and the accolades spoke for themselves. Three straight Gold medals, three state championship wins, best brass solo performance two of three years. It is often said one person does not make up a great concert band, but one great performer can make a concert band great. In this case, a concert band that was a blend of students from three high schools and a few smaller schools across the Crown of Maine, a place where musical talent never could compete with the bigger schools in Portland, Bangor and Augusta. The wall of the “band hall”, if one could call it that, was lined with the accolades. The best was a write up from the Portland Press Herald that called the Aroostook Combined Regional Concert Band the best performance to hit Maine since the pilgrims. “At the top of the act is a gifted trumpet player, Chris Hill, who can play with the best of them worldwide,” the story went on to say. Oh sure, maybe exaggeration to a limited degree, but there was quite a bit of truth in the assessment.

Chris was a late child, the last of three in his family. One girl and two boys. He was lost when his family came to Maine, especially to the potato harvesting land of Northern Maine. Aroostook is way north, touching the Canadian border. In fact, it is so far up in Maine that Canada tried to claim it as their own land in the 1800’s, touching off a near war between the two countries. The real language of Aroostook is a blend of French, Canadian English and US English mixed in with an accent that makes all of it totally confusing. Not by choice, more by circumstance, Chris was really an only child. Fourteen years separated his older sister from him, so she was long gone and living in DC with her nerdy husband, a computer geek who worked for the NSA or something like that. His older brother of seven years was also his best inspiration., at least while he was around, but by the time they moved to Maine, Mickey was already in college “back home” in North Carolina.

Two things finally made Chris start to like the remote world of Northern Maine. The band was the first, and Chris quickly rose to the top of the local school band and then the regional band. Swimming was second. Chris joined the local swim team. While he loved swimming, he was not quite as good at it as he was music. The top swimming spots were locked down between Zachary and Ryan, to local guys. That did not stop Chris, who balanced swimming with band and the demands trumpet lessons in Orono, the home of Umaine.

Chris was a tall and handsome guy. He was over six feet, thin and muscular with a tight set of abs, muscular legs and a delightful smile. He wasn’t a bulky muscled guy, but he was softly chiseled with definitions that were clear, but not overly done. He had a fantastic smile of gorgeous white teeth, perfectly aligned. His face was soft, sweet and genuine. He was witty, fun and made people laugh. He attracted the eyes of every girl. When he was in his swimsuit he looked beyond stellar. He could well have been a model. Everything about him was handsome, well proportioned. He wore a swimsuit better than any guy on the team. Much to Ryan’s disappointment, Chris was absolutely straight and enjoyed the attention girls gave him, both at band and at the pool. He was fresh, non local opportunity in a region where family ties and small towns make for tightly knit circles. Pictures of Chris in his swim team suit were secretly stashed in the bedrooms, lockers and books of almost every girl in his school. He was cute, hot and they all wanted some action with him.

It was the end of his Senior year in high school when his trumpet instructor asked Chris about his interest in trying out for a group of students who would spend the Summer traveling Europe. He had just turned 18 and was ready for an adventure. The band would play concerts in six different countries, including one in Paris directly under the Eiffel Tower. His teacher, a music professor at the University of Maine would also be one of the band directors. It was a dream come true, except that it would mean he would miss most of Summer swimming season. Still far too great to pass up.

________

The alarm went off early, way too early for Chris’s roommate, Alexander. Chris quickly shut the alarm off, but not before it woke both of them up. They were in a small dorm room at a college on the outskirts of Boston, the band’s home for the first week. The band would spend long days rehearsing and pulling together before they would begin the European journey. Chris quietly slipped out of his bed, hoping Alex would not be too much more disturbed. Alex laid quietly watching Chris’s handsome male physique crawl from the bed. Chris reached for the tiny blue and gold Speedo swimsuit he had left on the top of his luggage. He slipped it on over his naked, youthful body, tucking his male parts into place inside the tight swimsuit. Chris was still somewhat aroused, a state he often woke up in, but nothing the water would not quickly resolve.

“What are you doing?” Alex asked groggily. He watched through the sliver of light coming under the dorm room door, enough light to allow Alex to see the shadow outline of Chris’s handsome body. Alex and Chris had hit it off well, in part because they had similar gregarious personalities, and because Alex thought Chris was cute. Very cute, in fact. Alex knew this would be a fun seven weeks. He did not know, until now, that Chris was a swimmer or that he’d be wearing tiny little swimsuits.

“Sorry, go back to sleep. I am going to do my swim workout.” Chris whispered. He felt bad for waking Alex.

In the dark light Alex could barely make out the swimsuit Chris had slipped on, except that he knew it was a Speedo swimsuit. The suit he watched Chris lay out the night before. Alex had never seen a guy live in a Speedo swimsuit, only on television watching the Olympics. Alex’s school had a swim team, but he never went to see them, despite his inner attraction to cute guys. As he watched Chris, he wanted to flip on the light and see him live, clad in the tiny little blue swimsuit. He could barely make out the dark form of the tight swimsuit against Chris’s body. What he could see told him Chris looked hot.

“Have fun,” Alex said. Alex was totally aroused under the sheets, a situation he would deal with after Chris left.

Chris slipped shorts on over his swimsuit, topped it with a yellow polo shirt, untucked, and grabbed his swim bag. He quietly opened door and slipped out, not even aware that Alex was actually watching him the whole time. The rest of the dorm was quiet as Chris headed off to the campus pool. It was barely six in the morning, breakfast was at 8 and rehearsal at 9. Enough time to get in four or five thousand yards. For whatever reason, Chris was still quite aroused in the swimsuit. He tugged at the front of his shorts as he walked to the pool. He preferred that his near erection would ease before he got there. “The one bad part of swimsuits,” he thought to himself.